#i spent more time trying to figure out how to draw bushes and making a background than i even did shading
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Ugh so I'm making a short comic to explore a little what's wrong with Mugman in my Eldritch au but my perfectionist ass keeps getting me to put moderate effort in each panel. There's only 4 (planned) panels. Why is this taking so long
#cuphead#cuphead au#mugman#eldritch au#cuphead comic#wip#cuphead wip#the agony of an artist#BUSHES ARE SO UNNECESSARILY HARD TO DRAW LIKE WTF#i spent more time trying to figure out how to draw bushes and making a background than i even did shading#is this normal for you guys???#horrible. the worst#the cuphead show
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Ragnarssons random headcanons.
A/n: Sort of dark, but more on a cutesy side and completely random. Got to post something as I write/edit my next chapter :)
Bjorn:
The one that just says: “I’m going to marry you”.
Isn’t a man to beat around the bush, he knows what he wants, when he wants and will get it.
If enamoured before the Thorrun fiasco, then he’ll be more considerate and patient.
On the other hand, if it happens after, unless his beloved is some powerful figure like a royalty, he won’t play any games to get them.
He is Bjorn Ironside, he doesn’t have to explain himself to anyone. Not a family would decline his proposal. Either by his fame and status, or by fear. And in case they don’t have family, then there’s no resistance.
He’s not at all hard to live with, mostly because he’s out a lot and isn’t very talkative, at times being completely disconnected. As long as his beloved doesn’t opposes him or neglect his needs (sex, mostly that, some cuddling but yeah, it’s sex) they have a lot of freedoms.
Doesn’t care a lot if they speak to other men/women, his confidence reaches Valhalla. Will however set area boundaries so they won’t go away.
Has momma Lagertha on his side.
Sigurd:
Probably the easiest one to deal with.
He works on getting his way, but he’s going to do it as much in the shadows as possible.
Prefers to not be forceful. High chance of having his beloved through a mixture of artistic talent and social interactions.
Is usually really sweet, but the moment something triggers his jealousy and deep rooted child issues, he’s vitriolic. His beloved is sure to hear some very spiteful things in that moment, either towards them or someone else depending on what triggered it.
Other than his brothers, he doesn’t mind if his beloved likes to have friends and a social circle. He likes it too and it’s guaranteed he’ll be part of it, assuming that wasn’t how he got them in the first place.
His beloved may go their entire life without knowing his tendencies, but should they betray him or try to leave, they’ll see just how far a bad word gets.
Ubbe:
Along with Sigurd in being easier to deal with.
Prefers to not draw blood, why would he when he can most likely achieve the same goal by his charm and scheming abilities?
Goes easy on them because he knows you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. His tendencies begin to appear later on.
Is controlling in a discreet manner. Asks who they talked with, what they spent their day on, has more insightful talks, etc. Uses all of this, plus his observations, to evaluate whether or not he should do something, when and what.
Not fond of arguments. If he finds a problem he deals with it and will advise his beloved to not do whatever they were doing before.
Unlike Bjorn, has an ideal image of a family, preferably a large one, and he will get that. Either his beloved is able to give him children, or he’ll find another way.
Wants to shape a respectable image and will make his beloved step up to that.
Hvitserk:
The wildcard. Can be a really sweetheart you barely notice his darker side, or anyway to a completely hard one.
He’s the one that goes through the most changes in life and in each of those he behaves differently.
At a core, he deeply wants a family and someone that will have his back. But making the transition from hookups to committed relationships is not always easy and may not be possible depending on the period of his life.
He’s on that weird spot of being the middle child and once Ivar was born, he definitely suffered from the lack of attention.
Unlike Sigurd, he’s not as much an instigator as he is a follower. For that reason he doesn’t mind if his beloved is on a more dominant side, he might just relish in it as it gives a sense of security.
The worst period is if he’s not recovered yet. He might unintentionally hurt his beloved while on withdrawal.
Has a lingering fear his beloved will just drop him once they can.
Ivar:
You mean: “Default disposition?”
Forget anything about ‘me’ time and private life. He will demand his beloved to spend almost every waking hour with him, not even sleep breaks it off because he likes to sleep warm and comfortable.
Depending on where in his life he is, he’s either more methodical, or outright will simply marry them.
It’s like walking a minefield because he’s almost always on high guard and is prone to understand things as slights to him, even if it isn’t at all.
Doesn’t like to share and that includes his beloved’s attention and time.
Can be overwhelming to his beloved and if they don’t figure out how to live with him, things spiral down pretty quickly.
He is dotting and likes pda. It’s possible to gain his trust, but that takes a lot longer.
Has momma Aslaug on his side. If she still lives.
#vikings headcanons#vikings x reader#bjorn x reader#hvitserk x reader#ivar x reader#ubbe x reader#sigurd x reader#learning to put gifs lol#hope it doesnt suck
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Basketry: Take two
So if you remember, a few days ago I attempted to make a basket out of unprocessed, unknown type of bush/tree, and it was fun! It didn’t produce a basket, but I got some practical knowledge.
Since then, I’ve started following a lot of basketry groups and blogs, and the things I’ve learned have made me impressed and intrigued. Firstly, these people have no limits in what they’ll make a basket of; trees, grasses, dry stems of plants, houseplants, dry corn leaves, wild brambles, tree bark, vines, you name it; they’ve made a basket out of it. Secondly, they’re not just making natural baskets, but cordage, out of almost every natural material! They know how to process stems of cattails and all kinds of plants in order to get the fibers and make them into little cords, and then they can even use those cords for making baskets! And the cords can be used for anything you would need a piece of string, like macrame, crafts, tying up plants, it’s incredible!
So now I’m determined to get more of this knowledge, it seems almost godly to be able to go out in the wild and then create practical items out of every piece of grass, stem and tree.
One vital piece of information I’ve gathered, is that you can harvest blackberry bramble using thick gloves and shears, and then you run it thru a piece of old denim in order to scrub all of the thorns from it, and it’s usable for basketry. This information feels golden, because not only is blackberry is perfectly pliable and easy to manipulate in basketry, but it’s invasive and overgrowing the entire field I work on, so making it usable for practical purposes is a dream come true. I will be testing this out today!
So I’m at it again; I’m out and first thing I want to do is collect that same non-identified tree/bush branches in order to try and complete my failed basket. I’m smarter this time, so I’ll be collecting only the thinnest and most pliable branches!
This is how that bush thing looks like, it even has some black berries, which makes me believe it’s a rhamnus (Buckthorn). Anyway, I got a bunch of it, and then went to look for the blackberry brambles.
I found this grass situation on the way, and figured that if everything else fails, I can always try to make some grass stuff? Grass has to be easy to weave with, it’s extremely pliant. The only thing is, this grass’ edge is very sharp. It gave me a papercut almost immediately. Still, I got a bunch. Maybe it won’t matter that it’s sharp.
Okay, so I arrived at the blackberry place, and I have my very thick gloves on, and I’ll try running the vines thru a piece of old denim, to see if it really removes all those thorns:
Not only it worked, it worked immediately and perfectly! I was careful to run it in both directions, but even after running it once, the brambles have been smooth and safe to handle! I was able to hold it in my hand! I’m extremely pleased, and I spent next 15 minutes pulling out the invasive blackberries, and making good material out of them:
My piece of denim is a bit filthy, but it isn’t badly damaged! It will be good for more times.
So, I got home, put all that stuff on the floor, and figured I should go see if I can re-do my last basket. It’s been on my balcony ever since, drawing the attention and sympathy of the onlookers. Here’s what I got:
Since the spines of the last basket were essentially fine, I tore off all of the branches I attempted to weave with the last time, and decided to start again, this time with a bit thinner ones!
And it started off great! Mind you, I was still using a LOT of brute force here, these branches did not want to bend the way I wanted them to, I was being pretty aggressive to make it look like this. The start looks awesome, and then I realized that bending the basket to go up, is not as easy as it was with newspapers, and I struggled a bit to make the bend and to continue weaving upwards.
And here’s a basket! As you can see, I didn’t end it very professionally, I just cut off the ribs and pushed in the handle (it’s not safely inside, it could detach with weight), but this, this is definitely a basket-shaped item! Compared to the last thing I did, this is a good learning curve in the working.
Now, sadly, this basket is barely usable, or more specifically, it’s usable only for the stuff that doesn’t mind being stabbed. Since the material was so hard to bend, when I wanted to put in a new branch, I had to stab it into the basket, and force it into any opening available; I couldn’t tuck it down nicely as you’re supposed to. So at the end, I had to cut a whole lot of branch endings, and the sharp edges have remained everywhere; you can get stabbed just by holding this thing.
Not to despair, this is a learning basket, and now I know there’s a problem like that, I can work on it! I filled that basket with walnuts and pinecones and I’m perfectly happy with how it looks right now.
This basket will also show me how this material stands the test of time; when raw materials like this dry, they usually shrink up, so the basket might lose a bit of it’s shape, and I will see in few months what it looks like.
I still have blackberry bramble, some drying dandelion stems, twine, and my grass, but I did tire myself out making this, so I’ll leave those for another day. And when some of these materials manage to dry, I will try doing the proper process of drying and soaking, to see what difference does it make to use raw vs prepared material. But this is what the raw thing can do! I’m happy to know it.
#basketry#learning#diy basket#weaving baskets#foraging for wild materials#cordage#blackberry bramble#btw if you're going out to collect blackberry bramble#take the leaves too#they're medicinal and make good tasting tea!#tea tastes fruity#and its anti-diarrhea medicine
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The Garden of Horrors- Kelvin x Female Reader – Part 1/?
Prompt: You were already on the island when a certain incident occurred. Will you be able to get out of there now that there is also a wounded soldier in your care? Idea by @hubbelebubbele
Your friend Alan was undoubtedly an exceptional case. That rich boy, son of rich parents, did whatever he wanted, and had always been a die-hard fan of exploring uncharted territory, of going into a jungle and taking a private helicopter out when he got bored after a month. You had seen him become obsessed with survival books, and his latest favorite author was one Eric LeBlanc whom he read like crazy. You saw a golden opportunity when he asked you to accompany him on his next exploration to that island that he had discovered in the middle of nowhere and that didn't show up on any damn map. You weren't going to lie, you had never done anything like that and it made you somewhat curious, besides spending some time with him, being that you had a crush on him, could be a great opportunity for him to see you as more than just a friend.
-
"And how did you find this island if it doesn't appear on any map?" You asked, leaning against the fuselage of the boat as he sailed through the middle of the ocean.
"From my father" He took a drink of his stupidly expensive scotch "He was talking some nonsense about an island that is disputed between his company and the rival company, and since he was quite drunk, it was easy to get the information from him"
"Do you think it's a good idea to explore an island that's in legal dispute?" You hesitated.
“Pffff” He laughed loudly “What are they going to do to me? The pharmacist where dad works has the most absurdly expensive lawyers on the market, the ones from Puffycorpy aren't going to do anything to me… If something happens, feign ignorance, say we came by chance. Unless they put a fence around the island, they won't stop me."
"You have it all figured out, cunning fox." You laughed.
"OBVIOUSLY" He gloated, puffing out his expensively dressed chest.
Alan could be many things, but above all he was smart and cunning, those kinds of things were always perfectly controlled by him, his brain was two chapters in the future.
-
This unknown island seemed pretty cool, although it was obvious that it was relatively in use, as there was a small harbor at one end, where Alan left his fantastic rich-boy boat. That didn't stop him, he left his backpack of things and you both went to explore the surroundings slightly, with adrenaline pumping in your chests. The scenery was great and he spent a couple of hours strutting about what plants did what and how to make the most of a squirrel's fur, things you didn't really pay much attention to, you were too busy not tripping over a spider web.
What you least expected was that the island was inhabited, and that its inhabitants were hostile enough that you two were running for your lives, heading for the boat, the screams of those monsters hot on your heels like demons of the night, some appearing out of nowhere, armed like cavemen.
They were getting closer, Alan knew, so when he saw that his legs wouldn't save him, he stopped you, to push you hard, throwing you to the ground.
"Alan!?" You got scared, seeing him separating from you.
"I'm sorry, baby, I don't want to die here" Was what he said before running away.
You got up, desperate. That bastard had tried to use you as bait to draw the attention of those natives to you, and have a better chance of escaping. Your feet sped up, running somewhere, anywhere, away from the screams that followed you.
Terrified, you passed through leaves and bushes, dodging logs, until you saw a small natural stone wall with a slight opening. Hiding was your best bet for survival, so you catapulted yourself there, into the gap that could barely let a person through, and hid, in the damp dark shadow, trying not to keep your panting loud enough to that they listen to you.
Trembling, scared, you saw those guys go by, screaming, as if they were looking for you. Fearing the worst, you backed up further, following the tunnel carved into the rock, quickly falling into the dark, feeling the sticky wet stone wall under your fingers, until your fingers felt a surface too smooth to be stone, cold, metallic, and your boots stopped walking on a rough surface. It was no longer stone, it was something else.
Your body let out a slight “uhf” as you ran into a metal door and groped the surface with one hand while rubbing your face with the other. You found a handle, so you pulled, opening the heavy door, seeing a large room, with concrete walls and some lights on the ceiling that illuminated everything poorly.
It was a bunker, or so it seemed. Metal shelves with things, boxes, what seemed to be an electric generator, bags with things, all messy, a simple bed, unused, somewhat high, with open compartments underneath, long, as if to store weapons, some simple chairs, some many metal tables, things scattered on the floor, fabrics and clothes. It seemed that someone had taken out everything urgent, quickly, before leaving.
You closed the door before sitting down on the floor, your back resting on the cold metal surface, trembling with a mixture of fear, adrenaline and anguish. You hugged yourself, crying. You had been so close to dying, and all thanks to the fact that your supposed friend had seen more value in you as bait than as a friend. The worst thing is that you had no idea what to do, you didn't explore, you didn't know anything about survival, you had gone to accompany him and because you had the stupid hope that you weren't completely invisible to him.
"Stupid Alan!" You cried “You bastard son of a bitch…” You dried your eyes “You better be waiting for me on the boat or…”
You trembled even more. What if he was waiting for you? Perhaps he was there, on the boat, awaiting your arrival like a dubious-minded Prince Charming. You wanted to go out and check it out, but, by God, you couldn't. You were so scared, you felt like your legs weren't responding. You didn't know how long it took you until you worked up your courage and calmed down enough to take a step. Little by little you left the bunker, with a broomstick as a weapon.
The sun was going down, you knew you had to hurry, so you ran, very carefully, to that half-abandoned port, your eyes fastening on every noise you heard around you.
The happiness of knowing that you had arrived there safe and sound, went out like a fire underwater, seeing the empty port. The boat wasn't there, Alan had gone, leaving you there, alone, lost on an island full of dangers, without having the slightest idea what to do.
You wanted to scream in despair, but you covered your mouth, terrified that they would hear you, on the back of your neck. You were going to go back to that bunker, but something caught your attention, and it was that the backpack that Alan had left once he went down, was still there. You took it, hastening your steps to that safe corner that you had found by a miracle.
Part 2
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ANGEL (Yandere!Angel x Reader)
Words: 1,930
Warning: Yandere content
A/N: This is one of the tamest yandere pieces I've wrote, I think. I hope you enjoy it.
Silence was only broken by the ambient noise that played on the TV and the soft whimpers of someone's voice, otherwise, the air was incredibly still in this apartment.
He stood above them. This poor person who was at the complete and utter mercy of Angel, whose touch could kill anyone if they touched long enough. His deep brown eyes lingered on their body while his hands hovered inches off of their face. Tears rolled down the person's face while they were forced to stare up at him.
"I'm going to ask again. You've already lost about a year of your life with your uneventful answers," Angel spoke. "Please, I've told you again and again, I don't know where [Y/N] is!" The feminine voice cried out quickly after Angel's statement. "But you do," Angel retorted, "[Y/N] has been seen in this apartment complex four times. That means walking by this door four times. Four encounters."
He was trying to piece together something, but you couldn't quite tell what it was. You hovered nearby for the sake of trying to find out what his game plan was, but at the expense of (almost) making your presence known... it wasn't easy getting into this apartment after Angel stepped in, but you wormed in and made yourself comfortable out of sight. You could only pray that he didn't see you, or hear you.
But there was something about all of this that you couldn't quite wrap your head around. Was he trying to figure out if you lived here? Because you didn't. No, your mentor lived here... and it was just normal for you to visit her when you had the time to, outside of work.
"I-I-I don't know..." the voice sobbed, "I have a family! Please don't keep doing this to me!"
It was sickening. Angel was repeatedly threatening this person's life by... touching her. No one could underestimate the power of his hands touching a mere human... even a simple grab of the hand could cost you two months. You could only bitterly imagine what it must've been like to be caressed by him. What it was like to have his face cup your hands. How much of your life would he take away then? You couldn't answer that question clearly, but the person he was interrogating, could.
"No, no no no, PLEASE!" She yelled, before a loud scream erupted from her lips while Angel's hands touched her face. Seconds pass, every one of them feeling like a grueling eternity that made your stomach churn. It was a total of ten seconds before Angel removed his hands. "You're in luck! I only took about a month away. We're nearing that threshold, though, and that can be scary ... so I would start talking now. So, I will ask this question again, Miss. Please answer it to the best of your ability."
He was growing too impatient to keep pestering this person, you could tell. Angel was lazy, and though he surprised you with the amount of effort he put into doing all of this, you knew he couldn't keep it up for long. Especially when it was reaching dead ends like it was now. Angel cleared his throat, "you may be aware of a person named [Y/N] [L/N] that comes into this apartment complex every Tuesday and Thursday around the same time in the afternoons. I know you see [Y/N] because you're a stay-at-home wife. So, I am asking you again. It's... early in the evening," he checked his watch before looking back down at the person. "And [Y/N] wasn't here today. Did something happen."
There was more silence to be followed before the person began to sob again... wail, really. It was distressing to hear. To know that someone was dying because of you really didn't sit well on your mind, or on your stomach.
"This will all be over soon. You've told me all I need to know." Angel's eyes hooded.
"N-n-no, please," the helpless voice uttered over Angel's, "I-I want to live! Please! I don't even know who [Y/N] [L/N] is!! PLEASE, NO!-" Their cries were ... blended, almost. If anyone could make aging be heard, it was Angel, while he took someone's life through simply touching their skin. You still couldn't quite wrap your head around that fact.
You stifled a cry and clamped your hand over your mouth to silence yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. Why? Why would he do this? What did this person do to deserve the touch of death? For just living here, was that it?
A yawn characteristically came from Angel's mouth before he stepped over the person's body, tucking his hands in his pockets as he stopped at the door. He stood there for a moment before he he turned his head, beautiful locks tumbling down his back as he looked around with narrowed eyes. You did your best to stay quiet in the corner you were in, you didn't want to draw attention to yourself and risk him knowing that you were here.
The longer he stayed at the door though, the more you found yourself beginning to question why you were even here in the first place... but you knew why. He was acting strange. He had been acting strange ever since that little date the two of you went on.
Ice cream. It wasn't a very romantic setting and it was actually one he and Aki Hayakawa frequented quite often, but something about this particular day happened to set him off. You treated him to something nice after he proved to be helpful against a devil you couldn't get close to—so it was just the two of you this time, Aki was nowhere in sight. A lot of the time you two spent together at that time was spent toward speaking about things, such as the ice cream you ate, how he saved your life, and how you were thankful that he helped you out.
Angel wanted to know so much about you after that—and was clingy, moreso than what you would've expected from someone like him, who seemed like he couldn't have gave a damn whether someone lived or died, as long as he wasn't bothered. In the days, maybe even weeks after leading up to now, he never really left you alone until you broke off from him to go home for the day. The days you went to visit your mentor, you linked up with him shortly after leaving the apartment complex, some ways away from it. You didn't quite think of it like you were thinking about it now, but looking back on it, there were clearly some things that were wrong here. How did he find out that you were coming to this apartment complex? Was he following you?
"I thought I heard something other than that woman when I walked inside."
"Gah!" You squeaked in fear, making your body jolt as your arm covered your face in self-defense. Angel found you, he finally found you. "F-fuck!"
"What are you doing here, [Y/N]?" He asked, "are you here to talk to whoever you're talking to?"
"W-why does that matter?" You stammer, as you find the courage to finally remove your arm from your face to look up at him. Why, he looked mental. His eyes looked like beads against his white sclera. What a terrifying expression to come back to—it made your heart leap into your throat. "I didn't feel like visiting my mentor today."
"Oh. Your mentor."
Silence between the two of you begins to pick up after that. Your heart felt like it was going to explode with how fast it was beating. So many questions had to be asked, but how could you ask them? You didn't even know what to say right now.
"Want to go get some ice cream?" He asked, as if everything that happened didn't just happen. You swallowed thickly at the question asked and looked around nervously. Did you beat around the bush? Agree, and act like nothing happened in this room? Or did you face the fact that what Angel did was unforgivable?
Another gap of silence.
"Angel, you just killed an innocent human being for no reason," you stated the obvious. Your brows furrowed and you stared at him. "Do you have any idea what this means?"
"Mm, no," Angel shook his head, "I'm sure I don't really care, either." He then pointed to the door. "Do you want to get ice cream with me, [Y/N]?"
"A-angel!" You pressed him with your words. "You... you killed an innocent human being!"
"...why do I care?" He gave you a blank stare. "I was doing her a favor. Now, do you want to get ice cream with me?" He extended his free hand in the direction of your body. "I know you're going home soon, since this is your day off."
You stared at him, horrified by the lack of humanity within him. Well, he was a devil... so of course he didn't have any shred of humanity, but still, didn't he feel even an ounce of remorse over what he just did? None at all? "Y-you killed her because of me," you reiterated in a more... significant light. "Why?"
"Because I didn't see you come into the building today, so I went around asking," he responded and sighed before he shoved his hands into his pockets. He would know better than to touch someone he cared for if he didn't want them to die. "She was mean to me, so she suffered the consequences."
Those words worried you. "What do you mean you went around and asked?" You narrowed your eyes. "Did you..."
"Only to those who were rude." Angel calmly stated, "not a lot of them were even subjected to what this woman went through. But I know she saw you... she saw you every time you came up on this floor. I know she did. She proceeded to lie about it, and for lying, she had to be killed." He tilted his head. "Have I answered your questions enough? Can we go get ice cream now?"
So many people had their lives threatened because of you. That was a tough pill to swallow, wasn't it?
The sound of the door opening made your heart beat quicken again. Your eyes shot to the door to see him standing in the doorway with his eyes still on you. "Come on. I want to go get ice cream."
"...why... why did you do it?" You weakly asked him as you stumbled forward to meet him. "Why would you subject all of these people to torture? A-and for... for me..?" It just didn't sound right.
"It may not be a lot, but it's honest work. I try my best to keep you safe. I have to know where you are at all times to do that though, right?" Angel shrugged his shoulders. "Think of me as your guardian angel, maybe that'll make the pill easier to swallow. ...so, can we go get ice cream?"
"N-no," you gently push him out of the way so that you can leave the building. "We won't be doing anything of the sort. I'm going to go to the hunter's association and ask to be reassigned to another devil."
Angel stumbled back, but was quick to grab your arm.
"Not if you want to live, you won't." He narrowed his eyes. "We're together now. If I can't have you, no one else can."
#chainsaw man#csm angel#angel devil#angel chainsaw man#angel x reader#yandere#yandere x reader#reader insert#gender neutral insert
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heyyy. I know you’ve been doing marvel a lot, but if you could do one with morgan and the reader? Based on amplification and it’s the reader who gets sick instead. thanks!
Finally
Warnings: some mentions of being sick (cause... you know... anthrax), angst and fluff :)
Word Count: 2735
a/n: My first Morgan fic!! I love him so much! This one took me a while because 1) I feel like I'm not that good at rewriting episodes, and 2) I wanted to get Derek's character right. Hopefully it's not too terrible! I hope you enjoy!! :)
Masterlist
"Rossi, Prentiss head to his office. Morgan, get Reid and L/N from the hospital and check out his house." Hotch instructed as soon as Dr. Nichols was deemed a reasonable suspect.
It wasn't long before you, Reid, and Morgan were pulling up outside of Dr. Nichols house.
"It's clear so far. I'll let you know when we're done checking." One of the CDC techs said through a walkie.
"We should look around a bit." Reid started down the driveway, gesturing for you and Morgan to follow.
"Ow!" You flinched away from the rose bush, shaking your hand in an attempt to lessen the pain.
"You good?" Morgan eyed you, overly concerned about a small scrape.
"I'm fine. Promise." You winked, walking past him and Reid to check for anything out of the ordinary in the backyard.
"I don't understand why you haven't asked her out yet." Reid looked between you and Morgan. Unfortunately, Morgan was saved from answering by the sound of his phone ringing.
"Hey, princess what do you have?" Morgan greeted Garcia, glaring at Reid.
You continued to explore while Derek and Reid talked to Garcia. It wasn't until after you entered the shed-like building that you thought maybe the CDC should check for anthrax out here too.
By then it was too late.
"L/N?" You could hear Morgan calling you. "Y/N!" It was clear him and Reid were approaching the door you just walked through.
You ran back to the sliding glass door, slamming it shut and locking it before either of them could stop you.
"What's wrong?" He frantically ran up to the door.
"Get back! No, don't come any closer." Your eyes flitted between the two agents, landing solely on Derek when you muttered, "I'm sorry."
"Y/N, open the door..." Derek's typically powerful voice nearly broke as he watched you shake your head.
"I can't. I- I'm already exposed." You shook your head resolutely, convincing yourself this was the right move. "I'll look for anything that could help in here. It's the best move."
"Y/N, you need to go to the hospital." Derek put more power behind his words with hopes of convincing you.
"The hospital won't do anything for me. Nichols could've made a cure, and if he did it's probably in here." You tore your eyes from Derek, hoping Spencer would help you convince him. "Reid, tell him I'm right."
He looked conflicted, eyes flitting between you and Derek.
"She's right. The cipro isn't working on anyone infected. Her best chance is to stay in there and find something useful." Reid looked reluctantly at Derek.
"Then you better find a cure in there." Derek whispered, eyes lingering on you before he finally turned away to call Hotch.
-
"Morgan, Reid. How's L/N?" Hotch questioned immediately, forgoing any greeting.
"White powder all over the room and the air was blasting." Morgan responded quickly. He made brief eye contact with Hotch before turning to walk back to the door.
The general barked out instructions for a decontamination team and cordoning off the area.
"Get her in the ambulance." Hotch directed Morgan and Reid.
"She won't." Morgan felt his heart rate increase at the thought of you staying in there any longer. "Said she's more helpful inside than in the hospital."
"Nichols is dead, looks to be about 2-3 days." Reid added on.
Just then Hotch's phone rang.
"L/N?" He answered on speaker.
"I really messed up this time." You let out a dry laugh.
"You need to get to the hospital." Hotch tried to argue.
"I know Morgan and Reid already told you I won't go. There could be answers in here." Your stubbornness was showing. "I need to figure out who killed Nichols."
"Y/N-" You cut Morgan off before he could try to convince you to leave.
"I think he had a partner." You decided to refocus the conversation on the case rather than yourself.
"I'll get Rossi and Prentiss to ask at his office." Hotch sighed in resignation.
"Good, I'll keep looking at everything in here."
You hung up before anyone could argue further. You shoved your phone into your pocket, immediately going back to look through papers and lab equipment around the room.
As you worked inside, you could hear the CDC team setting up outside.
Watching through the windows as people in full hazmat suits prepared to enter the room you were in made everything feel more real.
You pulled your phone swiftly out of your pocket dialling the number you knew by heart.
"Hi." Garcia's voice was quiet when she answered the phone.
"No funky greeting? I'm feeling a little jipped." You tried to joke with her, but it fell flat.
"I can't be my normal, bubbly self when you are where you are." Again, her voice was quiet.
"Garcia, can you do something for me?" Your voice was steady, masking the emotion about to pour out of you.
"What? Tell me what to do and I'll do it." She frantically moved around her desk, ready to do anything you requested.
"You know how a few weeks ago, you were joking about my crush on Morgan?" You asked slowly.
"The one you swore didn't exist? I remember." Her voice was laced with confusion at your topic change.
"Well, um, do you think you could record a message for him?" Your breaths were unsteady as you thought about saying goodbye.
"But you're gonna be fine." She spoke with authority, as if saying it made it true.
"I know, but, um... just in case. I want him to hear it at least once." Your voice broke.
"Okay. Um, whenever you're ready." She listened as you spoke to Derek.
"Hi Derek. Um, I kind of have a secret to tell you, but first I want you to know this isn't your fault. I'm the idiot who walked into the lab. It's on me. I guess I just want to make sure you hear this from me at least once." You cleared your throat, thick from emotion.
"I, uh, I think I'm maybe, just a little bit, um... in love with you." You felt the tears fall from your cheeks. "You're my best friend. You've always been there for me when cases hit a little too close to home or even if I'm just having a bad day. You never fail to make me smile, no matter how hard I'm trying not to."
You wiped at your cheeks roughly, trying to focus on the message.
"I've wanted to tell you for a while, but I never knew how. I guess I'm glad I walked in here for one reason. It finally pushed me to tell you how I feel."
You chuckled again, but there was no humor in it.
"I'm, ah, I'm really sorry if this is goodbye." You paused, unsure if you had anything left to say.
"Y/N?" Garcia questioned if you were still on the line.
"Prep the victim for transfer." You could hear Dr. Kimura entering the room, preparing to begin treating you.
"I've got to go." You hung up without another word, trying to rid your face of any evidence of the tears before facing the doctor.
"How are you feeling?" She questioned once you were in view.
"I'm actually feeling okay." You nodded, trying to convince yourself it was true. She eyed you like she didn't believe you, but nodded with you anyway.
"Alright, how can I help?"
You spent the next few minutes explaining Dr. Nichols profile. Dr. Kimura set off to look for the cure while you continued trying to figure out who killed Nichols.
-
"L/N, stick with me." Morgan's voice sounded through your phone, drawing your attention away from the stack of papers in your hand. "Prentiss and Rossi don't think the partner is from work."
"Okay, um..." You went back to the bigger desk. "He's got course syllabi and outlines dating back to the 80s." You glanced around the room, eyes catching on the other desk.
"A student..." You trailed off, mind moving a mile a minute.
"Talk to me." Morgan drew your attention again.
"Derek, I think it's a student. There's two desks, different organization on both. The smaller one has what looks like a dissertation that Nichols could've been grading. He wouldn't open his lab to a scientist, but he might for educational purposes." You prattled on, more and more information fitting the theory.
"I'll get Garcia to look at science students." Morgan gestured for Hotch to call Garcia. He was about to hang up when you corrected him.
"Wait! The paper, it's more about social policies surrounding an anthrax attack, not the actual science of it." You spoke quickly, trying to hold in an impending cough.
"Okay, political science and social studies majors then." Morgan trailed off, waiting for your response.
"Good. That's good." You coughed slightly, listening to the sound of his breathing.
"Garcia's got a match." Hotch nodded to Morgan before heading toward the SUVs.
"Y/N, you got everything you could in there. Now get the hell out." He practically begged.
"Sure thing, Derek. Bye." You hung up right as Dr. Kimura walked back toward you.
"His inhaler! It could have the cure, right?" She looked to you for approval.
-
"They're checking out Brown's house." Derek watched as they hosed you down.
"Go help them." You coughed slightly, wincing at the cool water.
"They've got plenty of help. I'm staying with you." His eyes never left yours.
"Please." You looked him in the eye. "They're about to strip me naked and hose me down. As much as I know that's something you want to see, I don't think I look my best right now." You joked, watching the way he averted his eyes slightly.
"Y/N, I-" You cut him off again.
"I know." You smiled softly, gesturing for him to go. "Now go help catch him." You kept your eyes on him until he was out of sight.
Turning back to the conversation happening in front of you, you watched as Dr. Kimura instructed another hazmat team member to get the inhaler tested for the cure.
"It makes sense for the inhaler to have the cure." Your mind felt fuzzy as you thought it over. You moved to grab your head, something catching the attention of the doctor.
"Agent L/N, did you cut your hand?" You glanced at your hand, remembering the rose bush outside. You nodded, eyes widening ever so slightly at the now blistering cut on your hand.
"Let's move." You were quickly cleaned of any lingering traces of anthrax before she directed you into the waiting ambulance. "Are you still feeling fine?" She questioned while taking your vitals.
"I'm doing great. I flea foon. I fill fon." You muttered, eyes rolling back in your head.
"Driver, faster!" She called to the front of the ambulance as you started coughing blood.
-
"Are you eating my jello?" You cleared your throat as you eyed Derek sitting next to your bed.
"Yes I am." He stared directly into your eyes as he ate another spoonful.
"Well, is there more?" You pouted, eyes still lingering on the cup in Derek's hands. He laughed in response.
"What happened?" You slowly moved to sit up, eyes flitting around the various machines in your room.
"The cure was in the inhaler. The other patients are in recovery, and you are going to be just fine." The way he smiled when he said 'just fine' had your heart aching. He just looked so relieved.
"Brown?" You continued your line of questioning.
"We got him. It's over." Derek's soft smile remained, eyes flitting around your body as if he were making sure you were actually okay.
"Well, that's a relief." You took a deep breath. "There's actually something I want to tell you."
He raised a brow, a small smirk playing at the edges of his mouth.
"Oh, yeah? Does Garcia know anything about this?"
You felt the blood rush to your cheeks, eyes widening in horror that he had already heard the message. "Oh, um, I mean, technically yes. I didn't- I wouldn't have told her before you if I didn't think I might die!" Your voice was rising in pitch, panic surging through your body.
"Woah, babygirl, slow down." His previous smirk shifted into another look of concern, although he still let out a small chuckle. "She just told me to ask you about a message. That's all."
"Oh." Your mouth stayed in the 'o' shape for longer than necessary, your body's way of stalling what you were about to say. "You haven't heard the message?"
"Nope." He said with a pop. "Care to enlighten me?"
"Well, I guess I have to since you brought it up." You rolled your eyes, messing with him.
"Hey, now! You started it." He clearly had you beat, so you just blurted it out.
"I think I love you!" You threw your hands over your mouth, eyes wide now that you'd confessed to your best friend that you're in love with him.
"That's what the message said. I thought- I mean there was a strong possibility that I was going to die. I didn't want that to happen without me having told you how I actually feel."
Your eyes were focused on the edges of the hospital blanket where your fingers were twisting a loose thread.
"Can I hear it?" His question confused you, causing you to look at him with a furrowed brow. "The message I mean?"
You nodded slowly, texting Garcia to see if she could send it to you. The chime of a text coming in happened almost instantly. You didn't hesitate to hit play on the recording.
"Hi Derek. Um, I kind of have a secret to tell you, but first I want you to know this isn't your fault. I'm the idiot who walked into the lab. It's on me. I guess I just want to make sure you hear this from me at least once.
I, uh, I think I'm maybe, just a little bit, um... in love with you. You're my best friend. You've always been there for me when cases hit a little too close to home or even if I'm just having a bad day. You never fail to make me smile, no matter how hard I'm trying not to.
I've wanted to tell you for a while, but I never knew how. I guess I'm glad I walked in here for one reason. It finally pushed me to tell you how I feel.
I'm, ah, I'm really sorry if this is goodbye."
The message cut off abruptly at that point.
You could feel your heart pounding as if it were trying to escape your chest.
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize it sounded so sad." You smiled, though your eyes were watery. "I mean, I guess it makes sense since I thought you would only hear it if I died." You continued rambling, eyes looking anywhere but at Derek.
"Y/N?" He prevented you from muttering any other embarrassing words.
"Yeah?" You winced, trying to prepare yourself for his rejection.
"I love you too."
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any-" You abruptly stopped, the words you heard finally catching up with your brain.
"You- you love me too?" You whispered, eyes finally meeting his.
"I do." His smile was wider than you've ever seen, and so, so pure.
"Oh." Your mind was having a hard time comprehending the gravity of what just happened. Luckily for you, Derek knew exactly what was going on when he leaned in to kiss you.
It took a second for your body to respond, but as soon as it did you could feel the butterflies swarming in your stomach.
Despite how new it was, everything felt right in the world when you were kissing Derek Morgan.
He only pulled back when you gently pushed him away, a wide smile on your face as you sucked in deep breaths of air. The two of you stared at each other lovingly, just enjoying the presence of one another.
The sound of a throat clearing coming from the doorway shocked you out of your trance. Reid stood leaning against the doorframe, a smirk on his face. He uttered one word, perfectly encapsulating your own feelings on the situation.
"Finally."
permanent taglist:
@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman @madewithsebstan @sebastnstn
Criminal Minds tag list:
@mac99martin @goldeng1rl8 @measure-in-pain
#derek morgan x reader#derek morgan x you#derek morgan x y/n#derek morgan#derek morgan fic#criminal minds fic#derek morgan fluff#derek morgan one shot#derek morgan angst
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Helpless (2)
the next chapter in the drider virgil fic!
warnings: spiders, slight dehumanizing language, assumptions/jumping to conclusions
-
Logan was certain that he’d tracked down his quarry.
Of course, he’d also been certain the last two times he’d found promising evidence around a swath of woods, but this time was different.
He had learned plenty while traversing through the varied lands of his kingdom, and while physical evidence was ideal, word of mouth was one of the most useful tools a researcher could use to find leads.
That was part of the reason why he’d been so careful to observe typical travelers for weeks before his departure, the reason he was wearing worn, cheap fabric and staying at the second-cheapest room at this town’s inn, despite having plenty of money still hidden on his person. He didn’t want a single rumor about a suspiciously rich noble traveling alone.
The last thing he needed was for his investigative journey to be interrupted by bandits, or worse, would-be do-gooders attempting to return the missing prince to his place in line for the throne.
Logan resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the very thought, putting aside the last half of his travel rations and stopping at the edge of town to stare into the woods beyond. He checked his compass habitually, and he was pointed firmly westward, exactly towards the point of the woods that were occupied by a dangerous monster, according to the barkeep that Logan had plied for information last night at supper.
The whole town knew of it, even the younger residents, which was a point in favor of the creature really existing rather than just being another folk tale.
There was one other potential source on the creature, a town outcast going by the way others’ noses wrinkled at the mention of him, but Logan was more than ready to begin investigating for himself, and the odds that the outcast actually knew anything were low, anyhow.
Decided, he headed into the forest, prepared for the day-long trek that was sure to follow. If he was prone to less scientific notations, he might have jotted down that he had a good feeling about this particular town.
Exactly an hour and a half later, Logan had found himself almost entirely immobilized by layers and layers of gossamer threads strewn about the trees.
Needless to say, he was ecstatic.
Even the foolish manner in which he’d landed himself stuck in such an obvious trap couldn’t dampen his spirits, not when faced with undeniable proof that there was in fact a drider in these woods. He’d been too hasty in his attempt to collect some of the biological material, and by yanking too hard, had ended up pulled forwards into the thick of the intricate spider web.
His immobility was a bit concerning, but mostly frustrating, since he couldn’t reach for his journal to note down the surprising level of the webbing’s tensile strength. Still, proper scientists had to be prepared to hold onto their observations for as long as it took for them to be able to write them down.
Besides, he could hardly complain. His current predicament practically guaranteed that he would actually get to see the creature!
-
There was a person stuck in his webs, and Virgil was freaking out about it.
It had never happened before. Virgil very specifically made the webs closer to town thick and opaque so that any passerby would see them and avoid this exact situation.
Virgil peered around the cluster of bushes he had half-flattened himself behind. The stranger didn’t seem too panicked, at least, going by the way that the web barely swayed with his presence. He didn’t even seem to be breathing hard, which was… admittedly sort of strange.
Skies above, what if this was a trap? Virgil turned his head sharply to scan his surroundings, wary of human hunters suddenly popping out of the undergrowth.
Several moments of silence, and even with all his senses pushed to their farthest, he couldn’t detect anything. It seemed the only one trapped here was the human.
A pang of guilt curled unpleasantly in his first stomach. He grimaced, wishing desperately that Patton was here to mitigate the utter terror Virgil was surely about to inflict on this guy.
No point in drawing it out. He rose up to his full height, grateful that the human had gotten stuck facing the opposite direction, and quietly crept up behind him. All he needed to do was announce his presence and let the human know he wasn’t going to hurt them, but he was immediately distracted at the sight of just how tangled his webs had grown.
“How does one human manage to touch every single support thread at the same time?” he asked, voice incredulous.
The human stiffened, and he couldn’t help but tense in response, cursing his big mouth.
… Really though, he spent hours crafting these, and now this one would have to be completely reconstructed!
“Are you the monster spoken of in town?”
The measured voice snapped Virgil out of his thoughts as easy as a clap of thunder, and he shuffled a bit from side to side nervously. His many steps must have been louder than he’d thought, because the human immediately attempted to twist around and see him.
He failed, naturally, because Virgil’s threads weren’t exactly easy to wriggle free of, but Virgil’s nerves only grew. “I… why do you ask?”
There was a short silence, and then, “Considering my current situation, it’s only natural I would want to know, isn’t it?”
Virgil resisted the urge to wince at his own dumbassery. “Right. Well. Yeah,” he confirmed, already bracing for the fear that nearly every human bore when confronted with him. Even Patton had been afraid at first, though Virgil really thought him braver than any other human, to be so terrified of even normal spiders and befriend a Drider of all creatures.
“Oh, excellent,” the human said with clear excitement. “Would you mind coming around so that I can see you?”
Virgil blinked, befuddled. The last thing most humans wanted was for him to come closer. Maybe it was the natural fear of him being in their blind spot? The guy certainly didn’t sound very afraid, even with Virgil’s less-than-stellar first impression.
“Do you have a weapon?” he asked warily.
“I have a knife,” the stranger offered, “but I can’t exactly reach it at the moment.”
Virgil could see the glint of it, caught bladefirst at the very edge of a web as though it had been used on the threads themselves. He slowly circled around the clearing, watching the stranger closely for any sudden movements, until he stood before him, all eight legs and thorax visible.
“Fascinating,” he breathed, eyes blown wide as they skittered from point to point as though noticing every little detail. Virgil would have thought him afraid had it not been for the prideful little grin that sat on his face. “I thought maybe you were lying to me-- I hadn’t expected you to be so fluent in the common language, living in the woods and all-- but wow!”
Virgil felt his front legs rising up a little bit in an automatic defense against the unexpected reaction. He ran his tongue over his fangs nervously, trying to figure out whether or not he should be insulted about the language thing. And what exactly did this guy mean by ‘expected’?
The stranger’s hands twitched slightly, still stuck firmly in place, and irritation briefly flitted across his face as though he’d forgotten his position. He blinked, as though remembering something.
“Oh, right. Are you planning on trying to consume me, then?” he asked, the question as politely curious as an inquiry about the weather.
Virgil recoiled physically at the idea, skittering back a few strides and baring his fangs despite the difference in size and strength and trapped-ness between the two of them. “What? No!”
The stranger managed to drag his intrigued gaze away from Virgil’s fangs, his hands twitching again almost subconsciously. “In that case, would you mind helping me down? My leg has begun to go numb, and I really would like access to my journal.”
“I-- I mean, yeah, if you aren’t-- I can--,” Virgil stumbled over his words, drawing closer with his body lowered non-threateningly and waiting for the inevitable flinch or shiver of disgust.
It never came. The stranger continued to stare at him with no trace of terror in his eyes, even as Virgil grew close enough to reach out and touch him.
“Take your time,” he offered, despite being the one trapped in a monster’s web. Virgil abruptly felt a bit silly about his obvious wariness, and lifted his front legs to rub them together at the ankles. The stranger’s head tilted to the side slightly, watching the gesture intently.
“... It’s the oils that make the webs not stick,” Virgil explained. “I produce it naturally on my feet so I don’t get, y’know, stuck. I’ll have to touch the webs that are attached to you. With my feet. The spider ones.”
Virgil didn’t have any other kinds of feet, but the stranger graciously didn’t nitpick.
“A built-in solvent… I wonder if natural spiders have similar traits,” he mused instead, and then, “Do whatever you need, I don’t mind. The opposite, really, I appreciate the assistance.”
Sure enough, he didn’t shy away when Virgil began carefully plucking at the threads entangling him, sliding the sides of his legs along them to coat them in the anti-stick oils. Bit by bit, the entanglement loosened, and Virgil had just freed both arms when the human abruptly twisted around to reach for something on his person.
Of course, now that much of the webbing holding him in midair had been removed, his weight was significantly less supported. A few threads snapped, and he dropped a few inches with a startled yelp. If he continued, he’d be in for either a rough fall or getting caught in a whole new layer of webbing, and Virgil wanted neither of those things.
He quickly reached forwards with his human arms and lifted the stranger up and away from further entanglement, batting away any stray threads with his front legs. Belatedly, he realized he had forgotten to check if it was a weapon that the human had reached for. Even more belatedly, he realized that this was the second human he’d picked up in this impromptu carry.
Weird that it had happened twice.
“Perfect, thank you,” the guy said, and then he started writing furiously in a little book, occasionally glancing up at Virgil and locking onto a feature before returning to writing. It was as though he didn’t mind at all being held aloft like a human might lift up a misbehaving cat.
Virgil took the opportunity to continue cleaning any web remnants off the guy while he was distracted, his mind whirring. A stranger who had clearly never done a day of hard labor in his life, who didn’t seem at all afraid of him, and was taking notes.
... Oh, shit.
Virgil set him carefully on the ground while he was still preoccupied with scrawling out a label for a diagram of Virgil’s teeth. He backed up, softening his steps, and by the time the stranger pulled his attention away from his book, Virgil was already well out of sight and planned to keep it that way, regardless of the confused little call the stranger made.
He was not messing with what was clearly a mage out for his parts.
#sanders sides#sanders sides fic#spiders tw#ts logan#ts virgil#drider#helpless#super weird not to have an acronym#h#lol#i think logan deserves to be a silly little scientist. as a treat :)#my writing#writing#my fever broke yaaay#thanks for everyones patience#and well wishes!
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drabble idea: after Wilbur is killed by Phil, Fundy finds a smol arctic fox hybrid reader and cuz they're both foxes and the hybrid child looks abandoned, he adopts them. Then Ghostbur shows up and Fundy doesn't want him to have anything to do with his child. maybe some other relationships for fluff??? i'm just craving this rn -💍
So imagines won right? I sit down and go to write the imagine, and I just end up staring at a blank screen for what felt like forever. I know I said I would give you the option but I honestly couldn’t put anything in my brain for it. And because I spent so long staring at it, I lost a lot of time and so this is the only post for tonight…. I feel so bad. I’m sorry guys, I should have more stuff tomorrow. <3
TW: Parental abandonment.
This idea is so cute though.
So we all know that Wilbur wasn’t the best father. He really messed Fundy up and gave him some of those good good daddy issues to where he has a hard time trusting people. But I think that he would be out on a walk, clearing his mind, trying to think of anything but his father. He’d be in a snowy biome when he hears footsteps. At first he thinks it’s a mob of some kind, so he draws his weapon and creeps toward the sound. He catches sight of something white and at first he thinks it’s a skeleton, but then the thing moves again and he can very clearly see it’s an ear, a white fluffy ear… That’s odd. “Hello?” he finally decides to call out. There is a small squeak and a lot of rustling. When he wasn’t attacked, he figured it safe to move forward. He carefully approached and as he pushed some of the bushes out of the way to reveal a small child. In one quick glance he could tell this was no ordinary child. It was an arctic fox hybrid, the fluffy white ears and tail a dead give away. In his glance, he could also tell this child was in rough shape. Their clothes were tattered and torn allowing him to see just how skinny they were. His heart ached for the poor child, “Hello little one,” he greets softly, “What are you doing out here?”
You’d been on your own for a really really long time now. Your parents had brought you out here, told you to stay put, and left. You listened and so you waited for them to come back. But as the days went on, you began to understand what had happened. But nevertheless, you sat there and waited. Munching on the berries of the bushes, but it never quite fills your stomach. One day as you’re moving from bush to bush, a voice calls out. It startles you and you can’t help but let out a squeak as you fall to the ground in surprise. The bushes shuffle a bit and from over the top you find an orange headed man peering at you curiously. His eyes scan you quickly before he speaks, “Hello little one,” his voice soft and comforting as he speaks, “What are you doing out here?” You give him a little shrug and allow yourself to look him up and down. You’re heart thuds a little faster as you notice that he is also a fox hybrid with orange and black ears, an orange and white tail, and sharp canines poking out from his lips. “Where are you parents?” he tries again. Again, you give a little shrug and figuring you can trust this man, you speak, “Gone… Let me here.” His heart breaks at your sad and defeated tone. “They left you here? All by yourself? When did they leave?” Another shrug, “Two… three….. Weeks.” you mumble, looking down to the berry bushes, your fingers grazing them carefully. Fundy’s heart burns in anger as he thinks about how horrible your parents were for leaving their obviously amazing child to die in the woods. He’s about to speak when your stomach grumbles loudly causing you to flush in embarrassment. “Hungry?” Fundy asks, then mentally smacks himself. Of course you’re hungry your stomach just rumbled. But you nod sheepishly, still plucking at the leaves. “How would you like to come home with me. I can fix you up some fish. I have lots of fish at my house. You could eat as much as you’d like and you could stay as long as you want.” Not even caring if this guy was lying to you, you accept his offer, simply desperate to get out of the woods. Your head slowly rises from the bushes as you stare at Fundy who is smiling at you ever so softly with an outstretched hand. Carefully you raise your own arm and gently rest your hand in his, shivering at the warmth that spreads throughout your palm. “Let’s get going then kiddo.”
Fundy leads you out of the forest and towards his house. As you two walk, you two talk… Well he does a lot of the talking and you give small answers here and there. You tell him your name and he tells you his. He talks about where you’re going and how it’s extremely safe there and how he thinks you’ll like it. He leads you inside his house, sits you at the table, before making up some fish for you and him. He places the plate down in front of you and before he can sit to eat his own meal, yours is finished. To say he’s shocked is an understatement, but he quickly remembers you were out in the forest all alone for two to three weeks, maybe longer with nothing but berries. You’re looking at him super embarrassed, like you want to ask for more but are too scared too. “Hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, walking back over to you, setting his own plate down in front of you, picking up the empty one, “You don’t have to feel bad. Like I said, I have plenty of fish, eat as much as you like.” And so you do. You eat until you’re so full you can barely move. Your eyes are sleepily closing and then jerking back open as you try to force yourself to stay awake. Fundy notices this and laughs quietly to himself. Your eyes close for a little while, giving Fundy enough time to put his plan into action. He quickly stands up, moves to you, picks you up, and carries you to his bed. He carefully lays you down, tucks you in, and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Sleep well darling,” he mumbles, not thinking much of it. “Thanks dad” you mumble back, clearly out of it. But the simple word stops Fundy’s heart before a huge smile grows on his face. He decides that he wants you to be his child, if you want. He can feel a connection and a strong desire to care and love for you and he wants to be that strong father figure that he himself did not have. The next morning when you wake up, you don’t remember what you said obviously. You also plan to leave and go back to the forest. You would thank Fundy for feeding you but you already feel you've overstayed your welcome. You make your way down to the kitchen, ready to tell the man who saved you, who you don’t want to leave, goodbye. Fundy is standing over the stove and at the sound of your footsteps his head turns and he grins brightly at you, “Hey kiddo! Have a seat! Eggs are almost done! I hope you like them scrambled!” Not wanting him to feel bad, you do as you’re told and decide to tell him after breakfast. True to his word, the eggs don’t take that much longer and soon he’s served you some eggs. You two eat together, talking a bit about how you both slept and stuff. And after you’re done, you’re just about to tell him but then he begins to tell you about his plans for the day and asks if you want to tag along and you do. You really do. It is then you decide that you’ll stay until Fundy asks you to leave, and if that means you’re staying forever… So be it.
Okay on to some more general headcanons and less plot type stuff haha
You two help each other in grooming your ears and tails all the time. I feel like they can be hard to get perfectly clean by yourself so you two do it together as a bonding activity. You would do Fundy’s first because it takes less time. Fundy does a lot of it and you just get the hard to reach spots and stuff, and makes sure there is no spot left unclean. However, when it’s your turn, Fundy takes complete control. He will make you just sit there and let him groom and take care of you. He is so careful as he does it. He cleans your ears and your tail carefully, making sure no dirt is left. And then he takes the time to carefully brush out the hair and make it very soft and very fluffy. It feels so nice. I would imagine you didn’t have the nicest parents, they literally left you in a forest to die, so you never got this special treatment or attention for your ears or tail. So the first time you two did this, you would be so confused. You didn’t understand what was happening or why you were being treated so kindly, which broke Fundy’s heart. I feel that’s also partly why he doesn’t let you help because he wants to make sure that you know that you will be loved and cared for as long as he’s in your life.
So that being said, you two are so affectionate with each other. Like you curl up together and cuddle on the couch all the time. It has a lot to do with the fox side of both of you. It feels really nice to be pressed against family of your own ‘breed’ so to speak. A lot of the time it’s a lot of you sitting on his lap or laying on top him while he holds you tightly. Again, he wants to make sure that you feel loved and wanted.
I feel like it wouldn’t take you long to call him dad. Like you accidentally did the first night, but you weren’t really awake for it. But I do feel like it would be a slip of the tongue on your part again. Just he does something for you and you give a quick “thanks dad” before you dead stop and stare at him. His eyes are also wide and filling with tears. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to call you that. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. It just that you have taken care of me from the moment I got here and I--” Fundy would cut you off by pulling you into a tight hug. “It’s okay Y/N. It really is. It would be an honor if you called me your father” he tells you. Your heart soars in your chest as you hug him back. “Okay… Thank you dad.” You two go to sleep that night with the biggest smiles on your faces that you’ve ever had.
…….. Speaking of dads….. Ghostbur comes back. One day there is a knock on the door. You’re both confused because no one should be coming over to your knowledge. But Fundy gets up and he opens the door and his confusion turns into anger. “What are you doing here?” He spits out. You slowly make your way to the front room, hiding behind a wall but peeking your head around the corner to see what was happening. There in front of your father stood an extremely pale man in a yellow sweater and a red beanie. “Hello Fundy!” the man greets, oblivious to Fundy’s harsh tone, “I came to visit you! I wanted to see my son!” A gasp catches in your throat, this was your dad’s dad. He hadn’t told you much about him, he just told you that he used to be close with his father but as he grew more obsessed with politics, that bond broke bit by bit until it was completely severed by his death. “Well that sucks because I don’t want to see you. Go away now” Fundy snaps back, waving him off. Ghostbur catches his harsh tone now and a frown settles on his face, “Fundy please. I want to talk. I want to mend what was broken. You’re my son and-” “And nothing. You should have thought about that before you went and blew up our nation and then got stabbed by grandpa… So goodbye now.” Fundy moves out of the doorway and goes to close the door. When he moved out of the doorway though, he accidentally gives Ghostbur a direct line of sight of you peeking around the corner. He lets out a gasp and points, “Fundy who’s that.” Fundy looks over his shoulder and pales a little but because oh fuck. This is the last thing he wanted to happen. He clears his throat and looks back to the ghost of his father. “That’s Y/N… My kid” “I have a grandchild?” “No you don’t because you are no father of mine. Now if you’ll excuse me” and before Ghostbur can respond, Fundy has slammed the door closed. You’re a little worried as to what he’s going to say to you so you speak first after you walk all the way in, “I’m sorry” you whisper. “No, no, no baby. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.” The rest of the day, Fundy is a little off. He tries to act normal but you can tell something is off. You don’t call him out on it though, you just let him do him.
But yeah. Fundy does everything in his power to keep you away from Ghostbur. He does not care a single bit if Ghostbur isn’t Wilbur, they were both still his father that practically abandoned him and so therefore he will not be around his child. His child will only be surrounded by those who love them unconditionally and will always love them. If you and him are out and public and Ghostbur appears, Fundy will take you back home. He doesn’t care if what he is doing is super important, he will leave and take you home. He also will not let Ghostbur in his home. Ghostbur does show up occasionally, hoping to catch another glance of you, but Fundy barely opens the door to the point where Ghostbur can hardly see him. Fundy will let Phil, Techno, and Tommy see you occasionally which hurts Ghostbur a lot, but there is nothing he can do about it. Fundy does not want his ghost father to be anywhere near his child.
But Fundy would be an amazing father. He knows what it’s like to be/feel abandoned by a parent and to feel ignored in a world full of family. So he makes sure you never feel like that. He loves you so much and makes sure you know that. Fundy would do anything for you, give anything for you. He loves you so much. His precious baby child.
Okay that ending sucked lololol. Again, I’m very sorry that this is the only post tonight. I got a much later start than I planned and it fucked everything. I’ll see you guys with more content tomorrow though (hopefully).
#mcyt#mcyt imagine#mcyt x reader#mcyt drabble#fundy#fundy imagine#fundy x reader#fundy drabble#ghostbur#ghostbur x reader#wilbur soot#tw: abandonment#💍 anon#anon#ray responds
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royally screwed | fw | pt. two
pairing: prince!fred x princess!reader
word count: 2.4k
warnings: cursing, mentions of meals/food, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers
a/n: hello friends! happy valentine’s day!!💛the long awaited part two is here and i hope you all enjoy!😊bonus points if you catch the subtle hp references in this chapter hahaha thank you to @spacexcowgirl for beta reading, i love you dearly!! you can read part one here
summary: Prince Frederick Weasley of Burrow was a twin, but unfortunately, at least in his mind, he was born the eldest twin, meaning it was his duty to inherit the kingdom. Since the young age of ten, Fred knew that he was to marry Princess Y/N Y/L/N of Diagon, and over the years they’ve both come to dread the day. With the eve of their wedding closely approaching, their disdain for each other begins to worry their respective families. However, there is a very fine line between love and hate.
Y/N awoke the next morning and immediately recounted the previous day’s events; she could feel the puffiness in her face and eyes from the tears shed after her Mother left her room. She had hoped that their conversation would go differently, but it was done and there was nothing left she could say regarding the matter.
A sharp knock on Y/N’s chamber door had her jumping up and crossing the room faster than her feet would carry her. She stumbled a bit, almost crashing into the door before pulling it open, only to see the most peculiar sight.
Frederick Weasley, with his siblings stood behind him, although George was standing rather close so that he could pinch his brother’s ear.
“Well,” Ginny goaded, “go on then, you arse.”
Fred turned swiftly to shoot his sister a glare, but George’s grip on his ear had him wincing in pain.
“You better get going or I swear I’ll rip it off,” George grumbled, struggling to hide the jesting smile creeping on his face.
“Fine, fine,” Fred huffed. “Princess Y/N, I would like to apologize for my behavior last night. It was entirely unacceptable and I hope that you can find it in your impossibly sma-”
Ginny quickly stomped on Fred’s foot, interrupting what Y/N was sure would be an insult.
“Pardon me, your impossibly large heart, to forgive me. I was also wondering if you would care to join me for breakfast in the drawing room.”
George promptly let go of Fred’s ear, but not without one final yank, and the entire clan of Weasley siblings looked at Y/N expectantly, awaiting her answer with fervor.
“You must be absolutely mad, Frederick Weasley,” she scoffed, folding her arms across her chest in defiance. “After your attitude last night, which you had for no reason, I might add, and you come knocking on my door to ask if I want to have breakfast with you? I don’t want to see your face unless I have to!”
“I’m trying, Y/N! You said that the least I could was try, so here I am, offering to spend time with you when I’d rather lick the floor in the foyer.”
“Well, then, feel free to go scrub the floors with your tongue because I will not join you for a meal today or any other day!”
Fred stalked away with no objections from his siblings, who were all laughing at Y/N’s quip. She had a satisfied smile on her face as well, but it quickly fell when she averted her gaze to the three other Weasley siblings.
“Now what exactly did you think that was going to accomplish?” Y/N spoke with a, mostly, playful glare to the three standing before her.
“Honestly, we were hoping a bit that you wouldn’t answer the door. Mum made us drag him down here,” George answered with a shrug of his shoulders.
“But, now that we are here,” Ginny said excitedly, “will you have breakfast with us?”
Y/N smiled softly; she could never say no to spending time with her only friends.
“Let me get dressed and I’ll meet you…where should I meet you?”
“The drawing room…” Ron mumbled, hoping Y/N wouldn’t recall that Fred wanted to take his breakfast there as well.
“You three are insufferable,” Y/N laughed, “however, I’ll be there in ten. Hopefully he will be gone by then.”
Y/N gently shut her door and quickly threw on a dress and her day slippers; her mother would absolutely have a fit if she saw the disheveled state she was in, but Y/N simply couldn’t care.
After a quick glance in the mirror, Y/N hurried through the castle corridors that she had come to know so well and made it to the drawing room in record time. To her delight, Frederick was nowhere to be seen.
“Good Morning, dear,” Queen Molly said warmly from her seat. “Have you by chance seen Fred this morning?”
Y/N heard the quiet snickering of Ron and George and then a hushed “shut it” that could only have come from Ginny.
“Oh, yes, Queen Molly, he stopped by my chambers to apologize. Very out of character for him, I wonder if someone slipped something into his morning tea.”
Molly Weasley hummed lightly, taking the slightly sarcastic tone of Y/N’s voice to mean that things hadn’t gone as she directed.
“That’s lovely, dear, maybe you’ll actually have a civil conversation in the gardens.”
Y/N set down her tea slowly, trying not to act shocked because she had no knowledge of a walk in the gardens.
“The gardens? I didn’t know anything about the gardens,” Y/N mused inquisitively.
“That’s where Fred is right now, I told him you’d be along in a few minutes. He even looked a bit excited,” Molly teased.
Y/N snorted inelegantly and immediately covered it with a cough; she rose from the table and looked pleadingly at George, hoping he could come up with some form of an excuse that would save her from time spent with Frederick, but George refused to look at her and continued eating his breakfast unbothered.
“I’ll go meet him now, Queen Molly. I’m sure he’s awfully busy so we can make this short,” Y/N said with a smile.
“Fred is free all day, I cleared his schedule, dear.”
“Brilliant,” she grimaced.
With a half-hearted wave, she left the drawing room and begrudgingly walked towards the gardens, smiling politely at each person she passed. Even if her future husband did not care for her, Y/N took comfort in knowing that his family and the people in the castle did; she hoped it would make the rest of her life tolerable.
All too soon, Y/N felt the sunshine on her face as she stepped into the magnificent palace gardens. She could spot Prince Frederick’s fiery hair a mile away; he was standing near the rose bushes twirling a yellow one between his long fingers.
The rustling of the grass between Y/N’s feet caused Fred to turn around to find the source of the noise.
He stalled a bit; even though he despised the Princess of Diagon, he could never deny that she was breathtakingly beautiful. Her hair was unkempt, a soft pink, cotton gown swished around her legs as she stalked toward him, and her face was set in a scowl but even the worst grimace could not distract from her captivating eyes.
It was entirely infuriating, and it made Fred want to hate her even more, but some intrinsic force wouldn’t allow him.
“What are you staring at?” Y/N asked, her eyebrow raising.
“Nothing,” Fred replied with a shake of his head. “I’m just thinking of all the ways I’d rather spend my morning.”
“Well, it seemed like you were staring at me. Do it again and I’ll push you into the rose bushes, I don’t care if you are the future King.”
Fred turned his head and tried not to crack a smile, but failed miserably as the corner of his mouth quirked up involuntarily.
“Let’s get this over with, Y/N, can your stubby legs keep up?”
“It’s not my fault you shot up like a bloody bean pole; you went from stumpy to looking like someone sewed tree limbs together and animated them.”
“Most women like tall men.”
“I like tall men, Frederick, I just don’t like you.”
A stunned silence fell over the two royals, only the sounds of the rustling leaves and nearby animals could be heard.
“I suppose that’s why you like Prince Cedric, then?”
“Beg your pardon?” Y/N’s eyes widened, confused at the sudden interrogation.
“Your conversation with your Mother last night, how you begged her to marry him instead. Or my brother. Or that horrid Malfoy.”
“You had no right – that was a private conversation. How dare you eavesdrop on my personal business? Every time I think you have a shred of decency you prove me wrong, Frederick Weasley.”
Fred stepped in front of the Princess, blocking her path and preventing her from walking on.
“Prove you wrong? I had come to your room to apologize when I heard you plotting with your Mother to run off with someone else and disrespect my family.”
“I would never disrespect your family. They’ve never been anything but good and kind to me, the last thing I would ever want to do is hurt them. I haven’t the slightest idea how you’re related to any of them.”
“Oh, I know, you have them all wrapped around your little finger,” Fred scoffed.
“I’m not going to stand here and fight with you, Frederick, I don’t have the energy. Can we please just keep moving and we can tell your Mother we had a wonderful time and learned so much about each other.”
Y/N stepped around Fred, lightly grabbing his wrist to pull him along through the endless rows of flowers.
“She’ll probably quiz us and you don’t even know my favorite color,” Fred griped.
“It’s purple, I think,” Y/N blurted. “I overheard you telling your Mum years ago that you wanted purple frosting on some dessert. I figured that meant it was your favorite.”
“And you remembered?”
“There aren’t a lot of things I forget about the people in my life, Frederick. If it’s important to you, I’ll remember.”
“But you don’t care about me, why did you even bother?”
Y/N sighed and shook her head before turning to look at Fred, shielding her eyes from the sun.
“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t hate you. I don’t particularly like you, maybe in a different life we’d actually be friends, but I don’t hate you. I don’t hate anyone.”
Fred realized this was the longest they’d gone without arguing in years, and it was barely one tenth of a conversation. He turned his head slightly to watch Y/N, taking in the way she gazed lovingly at the surrounding flora, and noticed her eyes linger a bit longer every so often.
“Yellow,” Fred mumbled.
“What was that?” Y/N asked.
“You look longer at the yellow flowers. Yellow is your favorite color.”
Y/N smiled softly, the same smile she’d given Fred when she had arrived the day before but it was infinitely more sincere.
“If you were like this all the time, you wouldn’t be so bad Frederick.”
“Who says I’m not?”
Y/N rolled her eyes and this time Fred could not contain himself; he laughed loudly, and the sound triggered a fluttering of sorts in the Princess’s chest. They continued their walk, chattering idly and the Prince even picked a blooming yellow rose and delicately handed it to his Princess.
“I really did want to apologize last night, you know,” Fred assured. “I didn’t have any reason to be so rude when you arrived, I guess it was just…habit. We have a way of getting under each other’s skin.”
“Apology accepted, for your rudeness yesterday, of course. But, you owe me another.”
“Another?”
“Yes, for eavesdropping on me and my Mother.”
“That conversation involved me, I hardly think it’s one I shouldn’t be aware of if you’re trying to finagle your way out of our betrothal.”
“It may involve you, but it was a private conversation.”
“That involved me.”
“My God, I’ve said it before but truly every time I think you can redeem yourself, you do or say something completely asinine. Do you have any manners?”
“You were talking about me, I felt I had a right to listen!”
Y/N groaned loudly in annoyance, drawing the attention of the nearby guards.
“I don’t even believe you wanted to apologize, you had the chance this morning and just insulted me like you always do! Every decent part of you is nothing but an act!”
“You don’t even know me,” Fred seethed.
“No, I don’t, but it’s because you won’t let me!”
“You’ve never even tried, don’t attempt to play me for a fool, Y/N.”
“Well, I’m trying now. I’m trying now and still all we can do is fight.”
The two stood toe to toe, breathing heavily and staring into each other’s eyes. After a few moments, Y/N looked away and sighed deeply. It sounded almost dejected, Fred realized, rather than the anger he had expected.
“Go ahead of me back to the castle, please, I’d like to actually enjoy the rest of the walk.”
“I don’t have to take orders from – ”
“You’ll do as I say, Frederick Weasley,” Y/N snapped.
Fred wanted to argue; God, did he want to argue with her until he was blue in the face, but something about the tone of her voice frightened him a bit. So, he scoffed and stalked back to the castle, swinging his fists by his sides and gritting his teeth.
He passed by his twin, giving George a half-hearted wave before entering the castle. It wasn’t hard to sense the tone of what had transpired, and George shook his head and took off running towards the gardens to find Y/N.
“Oi! What did he do this time?” George shouted as he slowed to a stop in front of Y/N.
“Just the usual. Acting like a pompous prick that can do no wrong. He was nice for two minutes and then refused to apologize for eavesdropping last night on a conversation between me and my Mother!”
George rolled his eyes and raked a hand down his face, massaging his temples in preparation for the headache that his brother always managed to give him.
“Y/N, you know he’s not malicious, he’s just an idiot sometimes,” George offered.
“I appreciate you defending him but at the moment it’s going in one ear and out the other, Georgie.”
He laughed and slung an arm around the Princess’s shoulders, joining her on the remainder of her walk through the gardens. He noticed Y/N twirling a yellow rose around and every so often lifting it to inhale its sweet scent.
“Stealing flowers from our gardens, eh?” George jested, bumping his hip into Y/N.
“Frederick picked it for me, actually,” she mumbled.
“Well, that’s sweet. You two can get along, is what I’m seeing and hearing.”
“It was a momentary lapse of judgment,” Y/N sighed, before throwing the perfect rose to the ground and ensuring her slipper crushed the delicate petals.
When they were good and flattened into the Earth, she swore she felt an ache in her chest.
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#fred weasley x reader#fred weasley au#fred weasley#prince!fred au#enemies to lovers#royally screwed#fred weasley x you#fred weasley x f!reader#fred weasley fic
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Ni Kar'tayl Gar Darasuum
Pairing: Din Djarin x Pregnant! Reader
Summary: When you finally wake up, Din knows it’s time to break the news. (Part 2 of Aliit Be Cuur)
Warnings: Pregnancy, Mild Description of Injuries
Word Count: 3700
A/N: The much requested part 2 to Aliit Be Cuur! I took some inspiration from a comment by @linkpk88. My apologies for the long ass name. I just wanted to keep up with the Mando’a theme.
__________
“M-mando?” Your voice shook and cracked from having gone so long without being used. You were trying to reach towards him but in reality, your fingers only lifted off the medical cot ever so slightly.
Mando looked as if he’d possibly fallen asleep at your bedside, though it was difficult to know for sure with the helmet and the way he had a habit of sitting so still, even when he was awake. At your words, though, he immediately stood up, shooting to attention and coming to your bedside, “Cyar’ika? How are you feeling?”
“W-water? Please?” Your mouth was dry and throat stiff. It felt like you’d been breathing in hot sand and it had sucked all the moisture from your body.
Mando reached down to a water pack he had for himself on the ground by the crate he’d been residing on, unscrewing the lid, and tilting it slightly at your lips. The liquid felt like the best thing you’d ever drank, life suddenly coming back to your body at the small amount of water. “Thank you,” You said as he put the lid back on.
Mando sighed, his gloved hand coming down to rub over your knuckles gently, careful to avoid anywhere covered with bandages, “Why would you run in like that?”
“I thought you were dead. I was ready to kill the damn thing with my own two hands. I certainly can tell you I wasn’t expecting it to explode.” You attempted to chuckle weakly but you flinched, hand reaching for your torso in a poor attempt at soothing the pain of the broken ribs and burns.
Mando noticed the way your fingers grazed unassumingly over your belly that held the secret everyone but you knew about and he stiffened beneath the beskar armor. “How long have I been out?”
“About a day. The attack was yesterday.” He answered, pulling the crate closer to your bedside so he could sit beside you while you spoke.
You groaned at the thought of being unconscious for so long, “Am I dying?” You asked in an attempt at making a joke to lighten the mood. You could practically feel the anxiety and stress radiating off Mando and you wanted to try to lighten the mood but clearly it hadn’t helped. Your grip on his fingers tightened slightly, reassuring him. “Hey, I’m kidding. It’s gonna be alright.”
Mando’s silence was not something you were unaccustomed to. Even now that your relationship was much closer than professional, he was a man of few words. You still couldn’t help the way your face a little when you felt like your joke may have caused more harm than good.
Little did you know that Mando had glanced up over your shoulder and made eye contact with the nurse from yesterday, the one who had shown him the unborn child within your womb. Of course, the nurse couldn’t tell that the Mandolorian was looking at him but he still sent the masked man a knowing, almost pushing look.
As selfish as it made Mando feel, because obviously he was very concerned for your wellbeing and wanted nothing more than for you to be awake and okay, he was relieved when you remained asleep through the night. It gave him time to get his own thoughts straight, how he felt and how he would tell you.
Children were sacred in Mandolorian culture. With depleted numbers, many of the Alor had encouraged child rearing amongst Mandolorians or the adoption of Foundlings to save the Way. Even so, Mando had honestly never actually seriously considered being a father, at least not at this stage of his life. He had Grogu, to whom he was a father by the Creed, but physically rearing his own genetic children felt different to him, even if it wasn’t supposed to. He lived a dangerous life full of criminals and skeezy backwater planets and he was comfortable that way. Even if it was preferred that Mandolorians reproduce, he was one of the few that had been called more to a life of service. Besides, after losing everyone he’d ever loved, from his birth parents to his clan, he was used to being alone. A part of him was scared to bring more people into his life because he didn’t want to keep losing them. Even accepting the fact that he loved you took a long time.
But Mando was nothing if not a man of duty and honor and, as the leader of his clan of two, your lover, a father to Grogu, and now a father to your unborn child, he had a responsibility to protect and care for all within his clan, which was now about to expand to a clan of four. It was a responsibility that he had actually come to almost look forward to in some aspects in the early morning hours when he allowed his mind to move from the hardships that you were sure to face to the happy memories you were all sure to make together.
“There’s-there’s something you need to know.” He began directly, his modulated voice sounding strained.
Your smile faded at his tone and you gave him a concerned look, “Wait, am I actually dying?”
His helmet shook side to side in a moment of silence before he continued, struggling to find the right words. All the words he’d spent all night rehearsing in his head were failing him now. “No. They said you’re going to be fine.” He began, another pause between words as the actual confession was so much harder to get out than he imagined it would be. Mando had never been a man of many words but suddenly there were no words at all that seemed fitting.
Your eyebrows raised and you shook your head a little, indicating for him to continue. Nerves buzzed through your body. Mando was never like this. Sure, he had never been very talkative but he was concise and straight to the point when he did. He was never one to beat around the bush or draw out information for dramatic effect. Whatever he had on his mind must have been serious if he were struggling this badly. “What’s wrong, Mando? What happened?”
“The nurse came by while you were out. He said you’re pregnant.” The words came out clear and blunt, straight to the point. It was the only way he could process the information himself and he struggled to find a more delicate way to put it to you.
Your jaw went slack at the news, “What?”
“You didn’t know?” It wasn’t so much a question as much as it was a confirmation of what he had hoped. You hadn’t known. You weren’t keeping secrets from him. That alone made him feel better.
You shook your head, looking a little offended at the suggestion, “No, of course not. I- I wouldn’t have-” Your brain was moving a million miles a minute and cohesive sentences were difficult to form. “You have to trust me that I would have told you if I knew.”
The sentiment let out a floodgate of relief in Mando’s chest. “What do you want to do?” He asked simply. Throughout the night, he had thought about this long and hard and the more he thought, the more he was actually excited about the prospect of having a baby. An actual baby. He knew that this wasn’t just his decision though.
You swallowed hard, looking down at your stomach that you had just noticed was covered with Mando’s cape. “I-I don’t know. I need some time to think. This is just… a lot.”
You didn’t talk about it for a while. You barely spoke at all for almost an hour. After he knew you were alright, Mando had left your side to take Grogu outside. The poor kid had been cooped up inside for almost two days. It also allowed you time to think without the pressure of him being right beside you. Mando didn’t know if you needed time alone to process the information or if you needed him there to talk it through but he knew that he preferred to have time to himself to figure things out and it was the best thing he could think of to help you.
The nurse had stopped by while Mando was gone, just to ensure that the Mandolorian had in fact informed you that you were pregnant. He went over your vitals, important basic information about being pregnant, answered any questions you had, and reapplied bacta to all your wounds, which were estimated to be fully healed up within the next few hours with minimal scarring, thanks to the miracle medicine. You felt better after he left, physically and emotionally.
When Mando returned a few hours later, you were sitting up in bed, having made nearly a full recovery. “You’re looking better.” He commented as he walked over to you.
You gave a small smile of acknowledgement before looking down at your hands and flexing your wrists. You stretched out your torso a little bit. Your back was certainly achy but at least you didn’t feel like you had been hit by a flaming X-wing anymore. Mando felt better now that he could see the burns and abrasions that had littered so much of your body fading away to your natural skin color, only a few looking like they might possibly even leave a scar.
“I’m feeling better.” You responded and it was clear that you meant it about everything.
Grogu toddled towards the bed and reached his tiny arms out in an attempt to reach the frame and climb his way up to you but couldn’t reach. With an amused chuckle, you bent down and lifted the baby effortlessly.
Mando didn’t want to press you about the matter but he was desperate to know what exactly your future held. He stood in waiting silence until you spoke again, “How do you feel about this?”
Despite the fact that you were often concerned for others before yourself, he hadn’t been expecting that question. It also just wasn’t a question he had ever been used to being asked. Nobody usually cared. “How do I feel?”
You nodded, looking up to him, “Yeah.”
Mando sighed before sitting on the medical cot beside you, the thin mattress dipping more under his weight and the weight of his armor. He struggled to find the right answer to this question. Not just the right answer that you wanted to hear but the right answer that was truthful to himself. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”
“What does that mean?” You asked, gently stroking Grogu’s soft head while you glanced to your left at Mando. You had tried to pick up on Mando’a since you’d been travelling with Mando but he rarely spoke it unless it was a knee-jerk expletive, which you too were now an expert on.
“It means I love you. I know you. But it’s much deeper than those words mean in this language. But… that’s how I feel.” It took a lot for Mando to admit his feelings for you. Words of affection were seldom exchanged between the two of you. Your love for each other manifested more as just a mutual feeling of love, protection, and honesty with each other that extended beyond platonic friendship. Mando especially had a hard time expressing his feelings so when the words left his mouth, you couldn’t take your eyes off the visor in his helmet that hid those eyes you wished so badly you could finally see.
“I love you too,” You started, wishing you could repeat those words in his tongue but knowing you would do them no justice. There was a brief pause while you inhaled a deep thoughtful breath before you continued, vulnerably honest, “I would like to raise this child with you, Mando.”
Again, another pause. The silence hung thick and uncomfortable in the air, at least for you. You wished so deeply you could see his face so you could at least try to get a glimpse of something that might be going on in his head. You swallowed hard, attempting to get rid of the lump in your throat that was forming in the midst of his pensive silence. You took your eyes off his helmet that seemed to be pointed towards your knees or the ground just below them, though you could never tell exactly where his gaze ever actually was, and stared at your lap where you began to pick at your fingers with your thumb nail.
“Din.”
“What?”
You looked back over to the Mandalorian to see his visor turn towards you and this time you were sure his gaze matched. “If we’re going to have a child together, I want you to know my name. It’s Din. Din Djarin.”
You smiled, knowing how important this was to him. Mandalorian culture was still something you were learning about and you hadn’t met any other than Man- Din - but he had never told you his name before so you assumed that perhaps it was like his face, where you couldn’t know it in its true form. “Din Djarin,” You tested the name on your tongue, “I like it. It suits you.”
Din’s mouth fell in disbelief beneath his helmet at the way his name rolled so sweetly off your tongue and he let out a little sigh of happiness when you had said you liked it. Though saying his name was not breaking the Creed, it was something he very seldom told anyone. It reminded him of his home planet and his birth parents, good memories tainted by tragedy that he preferred to avoid. It was also a way that he kept people at an arm’s length, a habit he’d developed quickly as a distrusting bounty hunter. But he didn’t want to be called Mando by you anymore. If you were going to give him the gift of a child, a literal human being to call his own, the least he could give in return was as much of him as he had to give.
“There’s one more thing,” He began, reaching into his pocket. You stayed silent but waiting as you watched him pull a long chain from his pants, a small pearlescent shard dangling from the end. He held it up for you to see, the jagged and unrefined edges to the uniquely beautiful stone swaying in his grip. “I would like you to become my riduur.”
Your mouth fell into an ‘o’ shape. That word you knew. The Armorer had asked Din if you were his riduur back on Navarro all those months ago, to which he honestly answered no to. “I love you, Din, but I don’t want you to marry me just because I’m pregnant.”
“In my culture, we come to have our own children in several ways but marriage is not necessary in any. Like I said earlier, mesh’la: Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. And I would be extremely grateful if you would do me the honor of joining me in riduurok, baby or not.” He confessed, pressing the necklace into your hands.
The edges, though jagged, were not sharp by any means. Simply unrefined but there was a beauty in it. The light created the illusions of different textures across the small stone. The chain was thin and of a material that you didn’t recognize, a dark grey metal that definitely was not silver, beskar, gold, or steel. “Usually betrothal tokens are rings. I know this is not a ring but Cobb had managed to scour a few broken pieces of Krayt pearl from the dragon yesterday and should you accept my offer, I will replace that chain with one made of beskar.”
You shook your head, trying to shake away any doubt as to how perfect his gesture could be, “It’s beautiful. I love it.”
“You don’t have to decide now.”
“I would be an honor to be your riduur.”
“Really?” He asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “You’ve never even seen my face and you’re willing to marry me?”
You reached a hand out to rest on his helmet, just where it curved inwards where his cheek should be, “I know that I love the heart of the man behind this armor and I know what you feel like without it in the dark. I am willing to marry you without knowing what you look like beneath that helmet because I know I love you regardless.”
Din’s hand came to press against yours, holding it against his helmet. Inside, his face was pressed against the interior, wishing he could feel more than just mere knowledge that your hand was there. He wished he could feel your skin against his again. “When we are bound in riduurok, I can finally remove my helmet for you and for you alone.”
Your heart picked up with excitement, “You mean I can really see your face one day?”
His helmet nodded up and down.
“I can’t wait to look you in the eye and kiss you one day.” You closed your eyes and leaned your forehead against the beskar shielding Din’s face but he was mirroring the action beneath. A smile crept up on your lips and you handed him back the necklace, “Would you mind?”
He reached around your neck and clasped the necklace together, pulling your hair gently to lay over the thin metal cord. “How’s it look?” You asked, straightening out the pearl over your chest.
“Like it was meant to be there.”
His arm fell to rest comfortable behind your back and you leaned over to rest your head on his shoulder. It was uncomfortable from the beskar that pressed hard into your cheek but you would still rest like that for the rest of time and then some if it meant you could be with Din. Grogu sat between you, a tiny leg on each of your legs and your hand pressing against his stomach gently to keep him from falling forward.
When he startled wiggling around in your grasp, making tiny grunts of effort, it drew both yours and Din’s attention down to see what the kid was doing. He twisted to face your stomach, your hand now firmly keeping him from tumbling backwards. Neither you or Din were sure quite how much of your language he understood but it would have appeared that he somehow understood that there was now a new addition to your clan because his small three-fingered hand stretched out to rest against your lower belly and he closed his eyes, leaning back into your hand slightly.
At first, you thought he was just trying to feel for the baby, which of course was far from being large enough at this stage to feel, especially from the outside. “Hey, hey! What’re you doing?” Din asked, not angrily but definitely concerned for what Grogu could be doing to the new baby. Though he wasn't a malicious child, Din had seen him choke Cara with the Force once before and he couldn't be sure what was going on within your womb from the outside. All he knew was that the kid was definitely using the Force.
Grogu kept his eyes shut, ignoring his father, but a look of contentment spread over his face. That was when you felt it. You weren't even quite sure what it was that you were feeling but it felt positive, like an awareness of the life inside you that had been previously unbeknownst. It was more than that though. You could feel your connection to it and, though you knew it sounded absolutely insane, you could have sworn you could feel Grogu connecting to the fetus as well.
Din made a move to lift the child from your lap but you put your hand on his forearm to stop him, “Wait, it’s alright.” You nodded in reassurance, looking down to Grogu. “Can you feel them?”
Grogu reached out his other hand for Din’s, his entire hand only able to wrap around a single gloved finger. That was when Din felt it too. Again, it was a sensation he couldn’t describe. It was almost like an awareness of life but it was clearly emanating from within your womb. Grogu was merely acting as a bridge for Din.
“Do you feel it too?” You asked, looking up at Din.
Beneath his helmet, his mouth was agape as he struggled to process the feeling of life and light that seemed to radiate from where his body met Grogu’s and that his mind was able to just innately comprehend that this was the life you and he had created. “Yeah, I feel it.” He breathed out in amazement. “Is that the baby?” Din asked, the idea sounding preposterous but at the same time he had no idea of the capabilities of this new thing he’d learned of called the Force. He didn’t know the limits of Grogu’s power or his connection to it.
Grogu’s hands fell from both your stomach and Din’s hand as he flopped onto his butt on your knee with an exhausted plop. Nevertheless, his disproportionate green ears wiggled happily and the rosiness in his cheeks made you fairly certain the answer was yes.
Your hand came to cover where Grogu’s hand had just been, no longer feeling that same light feeling you had when he was touching you. Din no longer felt that connection either since Grogu sat down. “I don’t know what that was but it was kind of amazing.” You let out a breathy chuckle, “We’re going to be an actual family. Can you believe it, Din?”
“Y’know, deep down, I think a part of me always wanted to have a family. A riduur and a youngling all of my own. I just got so used to being alone that I didn’t think I would ever find someone I’d want that with. But now I have you and Grogu and,” his hand came around your front to gently rest on your stomach, “this. I promise you that I will care for you and protect you both until the day you give birth and every day after.”
You lifted your hand to Din’s helmet, gently turning him to face you, “Trillions of men in this universe and I got lucky enough to find you.” Grogu squealed in your lap and you laughed, stroking his ears, “And you.” Your hand dropped to Din’s lap and you laid your head against his chest plate, “I love you, Din. I cannot wait to spend the rest of our lives together.”
#mando x you#mando x y/n#the mandolorian x reader#the mandalorian#mando imagine#din dijarin x reader#din djarin#din djarin fics#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fluff#pedro pascal imagine#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you#din djarin x you#din djarin x reader#din djarin x y/n#mando x reader#mando fic#the mandolarian#aliit be cuur
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i am your ally || tsukishima kei.
pairing; tsukishima kei x f! reader
genre: oneshot, drama, flangst, a little comedy
word count: 5.6k
details: 3rd year Tsukishima, artist reader
warnings: reader going missing, verbal abuse, crushing of dreams, lots of sadness, heavy parental argument, everything that happens here hits home
synopsis: tsukishima didnt know what is the right thing to say after he heard of (y/n)’s situation, but the words that stumbled out from his mouth were a surprise, yet it blossomed to a meaningful talk that happens once in a blue moon.
(a/n): wrote in the middle of my depressing days to find a little comfort from this character that I love with all my heart. inspired by true situations irl; if you, my friend, is feeling down today, i hope reading this work of mine can help. i might make this into a full story if this got enough attention tho.
(Y/N) was nowhere to be found.
It wasn't Tsukishima's habit to eavesdrop on other people's conversation, but he couldn't help but listen when he heard her name from her classmates. She was a consistent top student that will never neglect her studies, so it was unusual to know that she was absent today. He thought that maybe she got sick or she decided to go crazy and skip school. If it was the latter, he hoped that she knows what she's doing, because midterms are coming in 3 days, and he's not going to listen to her whines and begs to help her study for the tests.
And now he just happened to overhear that she was missing.
He saw her parents walk out of the campus after talking to the vice-principal and to the teachers. Gossip filled the corridors and rooms. Tsukishima went back to his room, clearly annoyed with the unnecessary noise.
He listened to the lectures of each subject and continued to write down important points, but the thought of (Y/N) lingered in his head. What could've happened that led to her disappearance? Was she kidnapped? No, he just walked her home last night and she'll never leave her place past midnight. Kidnappers won't dare to make a move in daylight because of the town's high authority visibility. There's no way she'll be lost in an area she's very familiar with.
She ran away from home. That is the only logical possibility he could come up with, but he couldn't think of an idea as to why. (Y/N), who loves to be cooped up in her room with music blaring in her earphones while drawing, left her home without a trace. Tsukishima was a little worried, but he won't let his face show whatever the hell he's feeling.
His plays and blocks aren't exactly bad, but Yamaguchi could sense that Tsukishima was thinking of something other than the volleyball practice. He approached his friend who was resting on the floor, his long arms covering his curled up legs.
"Tsukki, what's with that expression? Did you get a failing score in a quiz?" Yamaguchi started, in an attempt to lighten up the atmosphere.
The blonde's eyes darted to him, "Like hell, I'm going to let that happen. What do you want?"
He shrugged, "Nothing, I just noticed that you were a little quieter and more passive today. Normally, you would've chewed the first years out with their simple blocking errors, but you didn't say a thing. You're scarier in their eyes when you're silent."
"I was tired. I'll only waste my voice pointing out something I did a million times." A sigh escaped his lips
"Right..." Yamaguchi paused, "So, I assume you have heard?"
"Heard of what?"
"That (Y/N) is missing."
"Oh," A frown fell on his features. It wasn't his usual frown. People who really know him would notice that his eyes are full of worry.
He sat beside Tsukishima before he spoke again. "I know you have ideas on places (Y/N) could've gone to."
"I do not know what you're talking about."
The latter chuckled, "Oh, humor me, Tsukki. If you're that worried, I can excuse you for today's practice. No problem."
"Does that mean that you aren't concerned?"
"I am concerned. I want to look for her as well, but I have to whip the other players into shape. I'm sorry if I couldn't accompany you right away."
Tsukishima stood up and sighed again, "You will excuse me, you said?"
"Yeah."
There were silence and the background noise of balls and shoes colliding on the floor. He wiped the sweat off his face before replying, "I'll be leaving the gym in a few minutes."
He changed his clothes and packed his things up, causing the team to exchange glances.
"Tsukki!" Yamaguchi called, throwing his friend's large jacket to him, which the other caught. "Take care! I hope you find (Y/N) and get her home safe."
"I wish. Then, I'll leave it to you, Captain."
The green-haired middle blocker's eyes teared up and sparkled as he beamed a smile back, "I got it!"
Tsukishima started to look for (Y/N) at the places she liked to go to; the art store, the Central Park, the kid's playground, the museum, and the prefectural library. But there was no sign of her anywhere. He looked at the nearby places to no avail. He walked on while dialing her number, but her phone is out of coverage area. He spent 3 more hours finding the girl and soon received a message from Yamaguchi, telling him that (Y/N) hasn't been found yet and that he joined the authorities to help them find her.
He walked back to the direction of his home, panting softly. He had failed to find (Y/N), yet his brain won't stop thinking about her possible whereabouts. The cool breeze of winter hit Tsukishima's face and shivered at the contact. He had hoped again that she is inside of an establishment, safe from such cold weather.
Tsukishima's home has its lights out. Her mother was invited into her colleagues' reunion as said in her text, and both his father and brother are busy at work. He reached for his key in his pocket and was opening the door, not until he heard a loud sob from somewhere. Tsukishima looked around the place as the sobbing continued. He searched for the source and ended up in their backyard. He caught the sight of a small figure behind the bushes and went closer to confirm.
It was a cat. It had scurried away once he got close to it. Oh, how stupid he is to get his hopes up only to find a scared animal. But he was certain he heard a sob somewhere near. And cats aren't capable of making a sound like that. Or maybe he was only hearing things?
He dragged his feet to the main door to unlock it, but this time, there was a loud noise of scrubbing on the roof. What is it this time? He moved back and looked upon where it came from.
To his surprise, it wasn't another cat but a person. Their legs were curled up, arms covered around them, with their chin on their knees. Tsukishima turned on his phone's flashlight and there she was.
It was (Y/N). Her shoulders shook, either from the cold or trying her best not to cry out loud.
"H-Help me."
He stared at the girl, confused and fighting back laughter because of how scared (Y/N) looked. "How the heck did you get in there?"
"I climbed that tree and jumped off to break in and hide in your room. Turned out that the windows are locked. I don't know how to jump back and I-I was too high from the ground. You know I'm scared of heights! Why did you lock the window?! Stupid!"
"Of course, I would lock the window for the security. And wow, aren't you the stupid one for knowing how to climb and jump up to my window and not knowing how to get down? Why did you climb if you are scared of heights? Such an idiot."
"Fine, fine. I am an idiot. Now, can you help me get off this roof?"
He crossed his arms and smirked, "No."
"Ugh! Please, Kei. I've been trapped here for hours. I am begging you to help me get down. Please?"
He sighed in defeat and raised his arms. "Here. Jump."
For seconds, (Y/N) didn't respond as she was having second thoughts about jumping.
"What? Do you expect me to get a ladder? I'm sorry, but it's in the basement, broken." He said in a mocking tone. "Don't you want to come down?"
"Can you catch me properly? Are your arms stable? Won't you fall on your ass?" (Y/N) interrogated.
Tsukishima rolled his eyes, "Alright, stay there and freeze to death."
"No, wait! I was just asking! Come back! Don't leave meeee!"
The blonde looked up to her and raised his arms again, "Don't think. Trust me, I will catch you properly and you won't crash to the ground. You weigh like nothing anyway."
"Are you talking about yourself?" She retorted, pertaining to his weight.
"Can you please just jump?"
(Y/N) inhaled and went to the edge of the roof. It was a scary view for her, just looking down makes her dizzy, and want to throw up. She thought he would have the largest frown on his face because of how irritatingly slow she was, but there was Tsukishima waiting for her with the calmest expression. She smiled a little.
"Here I go..."
She took off, closing her eyes, and swallowing her fears. The gravity pulled her feet down shortly after, and Tsukishima readied himself for the impact as he reached her waist. He held on to her lower torso while (Y/N) placed her arms around his shoulders tightly and legs on his waist. The athlete's balance slightly went off, so he took a step back to support both their weights. It was now steady.
"I'm surprised you didn't lose your balance. Where's the weak boned beanpole 3 years ago?"
"I did for a second."
"Doesn't matter. You caught me. Thank you."
They had stayed in that way for a moment until Tsukishima spoke, "Do you plan to get off?"
"No. I'm tired."
"I am too." Yet she refused to let go.
He exhaled, carrying (Y/N) to the main entrance and finally unlocking the door. Her hoodie was cold and some parts are wet, but it didn't rain on that day. He took her in and placed her on the couch. Tsukishima went to his room, changed clothes, and brought a spare sweatshirt, handkerchief, and a towel. He went down but didn't find (Y/N) where he left her, so he walked to the kitchen counter and found the girl on the corner, shivering like a pup.
He tossed the clothing at her without further words. There was a note from her mom beside the curry in the table, saying she had eaten and she left rolls in the refrigerator. He was about to turn on the stove to reheat the food his mother left, but his eyes landed on (Y/N) who sat quietly, hugging the sweatshirt instead of wearing it. Her hair was disheveled, the sleeves and neck part of her hoodie was damp, her nose was red and her puffy, bloodshot eyes implied that she has been crying for who knows how long. He set the pan down to get her a glass of water.
"Everyone was looking for you." Said Tsukishima.
"No one was really looking for me." (Y/N) replied, clearing her nose.
"I didn't spend the last 3 hours tiring myself to scan the whole town for no reason." He sat beside her, handing the glass. "Care to spill the tea?"
(Y/N) drank first before speaking weakly, "I hate them. So much."
The male remained quiet, waiting for her to continue her dilemma.
"Remember when I told you and the class that I will be the most successful doctor in Japan after I finished my studies? It was a lie. It wasn't my dream to stay in a hospital and treat ill people, I only wanted to draw and paint. I didn't care if it never made them or anyone happy, I am happy doing it. And they are taking it away from me."
He knew from the start that her dream job as a doctor wasn't true. For years she stayed close to him as a friend or more, she won't blabber anything of the medical topic. She was terrified of syringes. He saw her reading an article about surgeries and like, but her focus was easily taken away.
She will get a pencil then start scribbling and drawing. Something that Tsukishima always sees her doing whenever she has a pen and paper, but she insists that it was a mere hobby. Her notebooks are well designed and organized, but the back is always full of artistic doodles instead of algebra solutions. She only has very few art materials yet she can make a portrait with only her fingers to shade. She makes digital art without a stylus. She would drag him to the museum after class to view some western and eastern paintings or any work of art while he admires the dinosaur fossils. For times she's watching an art tutorial and talk about art, draw and paint, she has those stupid sparkles in her eyes and a huge smile on her face.
"You know Tsukishima, after I finish studying and became a doctor, I'll become an artist and if the time let's it, I'll open my own art gallery. That's my ultimate dream." She looked alive and delighted.
Very much the opposite of what she looks like right now.
Even though she was a slave of art, as Tsukishima was a slave of his own interests, (Y/N) prioritized her studies so much. He understood why when he went to her house and met her parents before their study sessions. He had noticed everything but chose to stay quiet.
"I-I was drawing last night. Dad entered my room but I didn't notice so he ripped the music away from my ears and yelled. He said that I would always lock myself in my room and draw every night. It was never-ending and irritates the shit out of him. He asked why would I do something so useless that isn't even connected to any academic subject. He was looking down on my art like he was looking at a piece of crap. He told me to stop and threatened me if I didn't. Why would I get punished for drawing? I couldn't get myself to stay silent so I retorted. If he doesn't want to see me drawing, then he shouldn't enter my room at all. He should stop meddling with my hobbies. His anger only went up."
(Y/N) stopped for a while to wipe her tears and snot with her sleeves but Tsukishima placed a handkerchief on her hands. She muttered her thanks and blew her nose and soon followed with a sneeze.
"Soon, it became a full-blown argument. He said that he was checking out if I was doing my projects, but oh he was so disappointed only to find his daughter drawing for nothing. What the heck? I gave them the best grades I could get, and part of it was because of you, Tsukishima, but they still aren't satisfied? I balanced drawing and academics, but they made it seem that all I was doing was my hobby, completely ignoring my efforts at school. I finished the school activities and I reviewed for midterms and all I want is to be left alone and draw. What, they want me to go crazy by studying every hour with things I won't even apply in real life?"
Her fake laughter echoed in the kitchen for seconds before her depressed tone took over again.
"Mom heard all the shouting and joined the argument. Of course, she sided with dad without listening to my feelings and there they ridiculed their youngest child's interests and talent. They told me that everything I do is bullshit and wrong, that I was useless, that I was the huge opposite of their expectations, and... and how come God gave them a joke. She said they raised me so that I could help them, not to do such useless things. It hurts to shout back but I did to explain why I'm so passionate about art in hopes that they will listen and understand but, I was so wrong. I was suddenly slapped..." She placed her hand to her left cheek, her lips quivered a little.
"I-It stung so much. Mom complained about how the Internet generation is so rebellious and won't listen to the elders. They didn't raise and teach me to talk back at them, but here is their child being a bitch. They started comparing me to my elder siblings or relatives who focused on their studies and who are at the door of success. I know they only want me to achieve the best, but my success isn't up to them! It's on me!! And I've invested a lot for that! They shouted at me as mom pulled my hair. It was so loud I thought I was going deaf. Dad blamed the gadget's influence and my drawings. I have only drawn decent fanarts of fictional characters, people, and sceneries, but they believed that because of these, I turned into a mannerless bastard. So mom decided to get my phone and lessen my allowance so that I wouldn't buy any art materials that are a waste of fortune--"
She bit her lower lip that is trembling uncontrollably and her eyesight blurred as her fat tears got in the way.
"and... D-Dad... he... he... he tore m-my sketch pad apart..."
Tsukishima's eyes widened. (Y/N) brought that thing with her almost everywhere she went and it was filled with good drawings and art plans. She has a lot of them though, but Tsukishima could only imagine how she felt when her efforts were trampled over by someone important to her.
(Y/N) broke down, bawled her eyes out, and shrieked hysterically. He looked at her with a heavy heart. He had seen her crying sometimes, be it because of a sad movie or empathy, but never like this. A depressed, emotional wreck. Her eyes were sore enough after a lot of hours, but she won't stop crying. It was heartbreaking to see and hear his significant other in this state, yet Tsukishima didn't know what is the right thing to say.
But maybe there was no need to say anything at all.
Kei wrapped his arms around her weeping figure and pulled her towards him. Cry it out, pipsqueak. (Y/N) didn't expect this action, nonetheless cried in his shoulder He didn't care anymore if this meant he gets his clothes drenched in her snot and tears as long as she felt a little less lonely. He rubbed her back and hair in an attempt to comfort his lover. (Y/N)'s airways hurt, but she screamed the pain out, in hopes that the pain in her heart would vanish. Her weeping went on for long minutes until she choked in her own sobs that Tsukishima had to get her another glass of water.
"Tell me, Kei." She began, wiping her eyes, "Is there... something wrong with me? Is my dream really that insignificant?"
"There's nothing wrong with you. You followed your ideals. Anyone including me would've done the same." He answered beside her.
"I-It's realistic, right?"
"It is."
"Then... why did it turn out like this?" Her voice was cracking.
Tsukishima looked down, "The society is just very cruel."
"Yeah. It sure is. Such a cruel society to live with."
(Y/N) let out a dejected sigh and leaned on Tsukki's shoulder. "I couldn't look at them without such overwhelming fear and hate anymore. I wonder if... they knew that I was doing this for them. I'd like to make them smile with something I've made myself. Once, I made each of them a portrait. A realistic one made from a pencil. I couldn't afford a material set that can be used to paint realistically, but I tried my best to impress them with a charcoal one. Oh, if only you saw their faces when I gave them the portraits. They returned a half-hearted smile. It wasn't the same kind of joy I see whenever I give them perfect scores on tests. I didn't spend 3 sleepless nights just to see their half happy, half unpleased reaction. I wish they could feel more proud of their daughter who worked hard for them... I wonder if they threw it away as he did on my sketch pad..."
They let silence engulf the atmosphere for a while. (Y/N) had calmed down a little, despite shedding smaller tears from the side of her eyes. Tsukishima held the sweatshirt he gave her earlier to make her wear it on the top of her hoodie to lessen her shivering. He stared at her, while the other gazed down on the floor with dead eyes.
Tsukishima asked, "So, what are you going to do now?"
"What am I going to do now huh..." (Y/N) repeated. "I'll probably... put everything to an end."
"You know I won't let you."
"I'm not talking about my life, silly. I might stop drawing and all. I've lost it."
"Isn't your life and drawing one and the same? And I'm pretty sure you have that immense talent to continue."
"No... Besides, talent isn't a talent if it doesn't make anyone happy."
The blonde mentally scoffed. She just said that it makes her happy in the beginning.
"Oh? Fine, stop doing that one thing you put everything into. What would that girl you received a commission from would feel if she were to hear you though?"
(Y/N) was stunned. She had completely forgotten about the whole commission thing she opened in her social media accounts. Tsukishima accompanied (Y/N) on giving the commissioned charcoal portrait to a girl last 3 weeks ago. It was (Y/N)'s first commission for years she's making art. Someone liked her work for the first time and paid for it, and her client looks very contented and glad. The words she said filled her thoughts with inspiration.
"Wow, this is awesome! I'm so happy!! Thank you for making this, it was exactly what I've pictured on my mind! You're amazing! All the excitement I've bottled up for this day is so worth it," The girl, probably a little older than them paused and admired the painting she received from (Y/N).
"Would you ignore those words she said?"
'Please don't stop drawing, I'll be looking forward to your future works!'
A pang of guilt hit her chest. She wants to pursue art, but there are these shackles and chains on her limbs and around her neck that made it hard for her to move forward. She couldn't breathe. What happened yesterday night was too much. Her parents went overboard.
"B-But—"
A monotone voice interrupted her, "Don't. Never stop striving for something you have been building for years. You might be defeated now, but surely, you will win some time. There's no way you'll stay in the lowest level of the ladder after I saw how hard you worked. You will go to nationals again, and I will continue to support you. I'll cheer for you and stay by your side! So please, do not stop! Let me see those beautiful blocks that you execute in the game once more! And I will watch you reach the top! Doesn't matter how many times, I'll never get weary of watching you do amazing things!"
She was silenced by that statement. She had definitely heard those before, but couldn't quite remember where.
"Does the sentiment seem familiar to you? Those are the same words that came from your mouth when I was planning to quit volleyball after our huge loss to Date Tech last year. I am returning them back to you."
"Huh?" She replied with a meek voice.
"That time, you really did a good job meddling with my decisions. It annoyed me first, but what you had stated held a weight that I couldn't disregard. You gave me the small push I didn't know I needed. In the end, I'd like to pay you back." Tsukishima stated with a far away look in his eyes.
(Y/N) listened with watery eyes. This Tsukishima's side isn't definitely the one she gets to see every day so she couldn't feel anything but the warm, fuzzy feeling that is healing her heart.
"It's probably selfish for me to say this but, don't you dare give up. I didn't stop. No matter how long and hard the game is, no matter how tired and discouraged I get, and no matter how many pessimistic thoughts clouded my head, I didn't stop chasing after a falling ball and thinking of another tactic to counter the enemy. I kept your words with me in court. It was you who told me not to in the first place, and I'm not going to forgive you if you ever dropped everything. I won't let the stupid, starry-eyed (Y/N) die today."
The girl beside her started sobbing. "But you told me once that my drawing are ugly."
"Oh. That. I... kind of remember that. I'm not sorry about what I said because I did it to provoke and rile you up. It was a lie though. As someone who always sees you drawing, I can't call your work ugly at all. Your art is... astounding. You make it look like it's so easy to do. I think you forgot next sentence after I told you that."
"What was the sentence after?"
Tsukishima sighed, "I told you to keep doing it, right?"
The sound of (Y/N) crying engulfed the kitchen, "Oh gosh, why did I forget that... I'm sorry, I'm so idiotic..."
The blonde brought her back to his arms, "Will you stop crying, you've been too hard on yourself today,"
(Y/N) hid her face on his chest, muffling her speech, "c-couldn't help it... my mind is such a mess... I do not know..." She paused, coughing. "It's no use if m-my parents don't acknowledge me..."
"Hundreds, or perhaps thousands of people who follow you on social media account recognize you. People in school recognizes you. I recognize you. I am your ally. Isn't that enough reason for you to get back on your feet? I will support you just like how you supported me. You have a lot of people who admire you, but I only have a few people and you. Yet your words are enough. I'm certain that soon, you will reach your parents' standards and get them to acknowledge you. It's not impossible."
(Y/N) fixed her tear-stained face before looking up to him, "You know what? Who are you? Is a good spirit possessing your body? The Kei I know will either stay quiet or laugh at me for being pathetic."
"I was trying to be nice for once and this is what I get?" He frowned.
(Y/N) chuckled and hugged Tsukishima, "I'm sorry. Everything you said meant the world to me. Thank you very much."
She relaxed against his lean body, "I have a question though..."
"What?"
"You literally had no business in my art, it was my own problem. Why are you doing this?"
"Why don't you ask yourself after you argued with me that night? Why did you have to butt in with my choices?"
"Because you like volleyball! You might look like that someone stole your dinosaur collection when you're at practice, but you're good at it and have a future in it! It is a part of you, and you're deciding to throw it away? Your potential is too big to be wasted and I refuse to let that happen." Her voice is a little louder now, but hoarse.
"There's your answer, little gremlin."
"How is that— Oh."
"But I'd like to add something."
"What is it?"
"You look better doing what you really like. It makes you look less like a hag."
It was silent after that. (Y/N) punched his arm. Tsukishima didn't even wince but asked, "What was that for?"
"The last statement was unnecessary, and the first one is sweet yet cringey." She criticized.
"C'mon, I'm just a teenager. Aren't you the cringey one most of the times?"
She used the handkerchief to sniffle her runny nose away, "Why do you have a knack of returning everything I said to me?"
"I won't do it if it's not appropriate." Tsukishima placed his hands on her back and to her hair, "So, what are you going to do now, (Y/N)?"
"I'll think things through. My brain is still slightly messy, but I'll be fine, thanks to you. But Kei..."
He hummed as a response. "I don't want to go home. I want to run away."
"Not possible. You can't survive on your own. You're almost 18 and until now, you don't understand how a washing machine works with all your perfect scores in exams."
"This is just a thought. I didn't say I'll be alone. I'm taking you with me."
"I refuse."
"Why?"
"Couldn't you wait for more months until we graduate?"
(Y/N)'s eyebrows raised, "So basically, you're agreeing, but not this time?"
"No, but you'll be free of your parents' suffocating control. Who knows how huge is your potential by that time."
"How considerate of you." The girl smiled.
"Only this time. And no, we won't live in the same place in college. Not yet. Not until we finish our studies, have secured jobs, and get important things done."
"Will you be playing volleyball at college?"
He lazily replied, "Probably."
"Don't give me such an ambiguous answer!"
"Probably yes."
"Hmm. Fine by me. I'll continue to draw, then." (Y/N) rested her head near Tsukishima's neck.
He smiled a little at her answer, "Another thing though. I don't think... you should leave things with your parents like that. There'll be a time where you have to face it."
"Yes, that sucks... I don't want to think about it but I'll have to go back eventually... When that confrontation happens, I'll try to calmly talk it out with them. I will never be certain if it will end well. But my hate and fear of them won't change."
"You can always run back here if it didn't end well."
"Kei, don't want to see their faces just yet. Can I stay here for a while?"
"You even bother to ask. You are welcome anytime in this household. Just enter the house in the front door, not in my window."
"Right... thank you."
"Oh, now it's my turn to ask. How did you get in there?"
(Y/N) sighed, "It was on 4:30pm. I was on the loose and I looked for a store where anyone can't recognize me so I can eat for lunch. But there's this creep who kept on following me—"
"Did he hurt you?" He abruptly questioned.
"No. I ran as fast as I could before he could even get close to me, but in the next block, there were the town authorities with my mom, and I knew they were looking for me, so I blended into the people with my hoodie on and made my way. I climbed the tree in panic that they'll find me and hid there. It took me hours to notice that your house is just next to it, so I decided to climb to your window. However, the window was locked, and I was stuck."
Tsukishima sighed in relief. "It was a miracle that a klutz like you didn't fell off the tree and surprisingly, no one found you."
"I was high in adrenaline when I climbed the tree. My blending and hiding skills are in ninja-tier now, I beat you."
"Whatever. What did you have for breakfast?"
"...a melon bread."
"Just that?"
"Just that."
Tsukishima kissed her forehead before lifting her up with him. "Go change. Borrow any of my clothes. I'll reheat the food."
(Y/N) kissed his cheek, slowly got off him and went upstairs. Tsukishima opened his phone to text Yamaguchi about her situation and proceeded to reheat the spicy curry.
"Wait, Kei! Is it okay for me to eat?" She shouted from upstairs.
"What kind of question is that? Of course you can." He shouted back.
"Your mom left that for you, for your dad and for your brother. I'd feel bad."
"My brother and dad will come home late and I'm sure they've eaten already. So is mom."
"Are you sure? I can replace the food." She said while going down the stairs.
"Oh, you can cook? I'm afraid you'll burn the whole kitchen." He mocked.
"At least not the whole house." (Y/N) laughed, "Just kidding, I have a tiny knowledge in cooking."
"You don't have to, I told you they already ate. I'll bring out the sushi mom made if you still want to eat."
"Alright. Thank you for the food."
Few hours later, Tsukishima's mom came home and took off her shoes. "I'm home."
As she was about to enter the living room, Akiteru greeted her and placed his finger in front of his lips, indicating her to keep quiet. She wondered what was going on and saw her youngest son and his girlfriend leaning on his shoulder, asleep on the couch in front of the TV. He signaled her to read the note Kei left on the table.
To mom, dad, and brother,
Earlier in the morning, (Y/N) went missing and her parents and town authorities were looking for her. I found her on the way home, but it turns out that she ran away from her home because of an intense argument between her parents, and doesn't want to be found yet. Please let her stay here for a while. I'll do most of the household chores or any favor you ask me in return.
Mom, I shared the curry and sushi rolls with her. I left for some for dad and brother. (Y/N) said it was very delicious.
Love,
Kei.
She smiled after reading the note and looked at the sleeping kids. She took notice of (Y/N)'s eyes and quickly understood the situation. Before she left to rest in her room, she looked for a spare blanket and laid it atop them to keep them warm.
(Y/N) snuggled further to Tsukishima's arms, satisfied on how this night will end well, unlike yesterday's.
©4aloysius.porteu.2021. please do not repost, copy, or edit. plagiarism is punishable by law.
#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu!!#haikyuu angst#haikyuu headcannons#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu first years#haikyuu fanfiction#haikyuu tsukishima#haikyuu fake chat#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu scenarios#tsukishima headcanons#tsukishima imagine#tsukishima kei#tsukishima angst#tsukishima scenarios#tsukishima x reader#tsukishima x y/n#tsukishima hcs#tsukishima x you#tsukishima oneshot#hq#hq x reader#hq tsukki#haikyuu yamaguchi#tsukishima fic#yamaguchi tadashi#kei tsukishima#hq tsukishima#hq!!
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TAG Mini Bang 2021
Hey fam, This is mine and the amazing @katblu42′s contribution to the @tagminibang. Katblu42 wrote the story, of which I love so much, and i made a couple of doodles to go with it.
We both worked really hard on it, hope you enjoy.
***
Deep Water
The summer is drawing to an end when an almost-twelve-year-old Virgil is lumped with looking after little bro Gordon for the day. When a simple walk in the woods becomes more than they bargained for, the pair must work together to overcome their fears.
Written by @katblu42
***
“Hey, Virgil. Whatcha doin’?” Gordon bounced down the stairs and watched his brother carefully pack his brand-new artist’s set of watercolour pencils, mini easel, and sketchbook into his backpack, using one of his hoodies for padding.
“I’m gonna go out on the top track and try out my new pencils. It’s gonna be a really nice day for practicing landscapes. I want to try and capture the way the light filters through the trees and . . .”
As Virgil excitedly rambled on about all the things he wanted to draw, Lucy emerged from the kitchen with a lunchbox packed with sandwiches and snacks and two water bottles for Virgil to add to his bag. She ignored the eye-rolling from the younger boy, who obviously didn’t share the enthusiasm for artistic inspiration. Placing a hand on Virgil’s shoulder as she handed him the last of the supplies, Lucy smiled.
“Sounds like the two of you are going to see all kinds of wonders today,” she said. Virgil opened his mouth to question, but she didn’t give him a chance to speak. “You’re going to take your brother with you.”
“But . . .” was all Virgil managed to squeak out, while Gordon sported a look of surprised incredulity.
“It will do you both the world of good to spend some time together, just the two of you.”
Lucy knew these two didn’t always get along, mostly due to Gordon’s talent for finding exactly the right buttons to push to try Virgil’s patience. In fact, Gordon did that with everyone, but it somehow affected Virgil the most potently. Lucy, Jeff, and the other boys had little tolerance for Gordon’s annoying antics, but the fact that Virgil usually had an abundance of patience was exactly why Gordon got under his skin so much. With Virgil, Gordon would keep on pushing, keep needling, insistently nagging until that patience wore thin and caused Virgil to react in frustration. As a result, Lucy had noticed Virgil tending to avoid spending too much time with Gordon.
But today she needed to pair them up together. Grandma would be by any minute to pick up Scott, as she was helping him log extra flying hours towards his pilot license while Jeff was away for work. John had already left for the library where they had been running a special summer program in the AV centre focussing on early space exploration because today was the last day he’d be able to see it.
“Aw, Mom!” Virgil whined. “If he comes, I won’t get any drawing done.”
“Yeah, Mom,” Gordon joined in, wrinkling his nose, “can’t I stay with you?”
“Nope!” Lucy ruffled Gordon’s unruly blond locks. “I have errands to run today.”
Gordon groaned. He hated being dragged all over town when his mom was running errands, mostly because the entire day was usually spent listening to her tell him he couldn’t run off too far or do anything fun – getting up to mischief, she called it.
Lucy knew her day would be difficult enough with a toddler in tow without adding a hyperactive six-and-a-half-year-old to the mix. For a moment, she felt for Virgil. In a way, he had a point. He’d have to keep Gordon occupied, which would take his focus away from his artistic endeavours, but she had faith that the two of them would find a way to make it work.
She stood between the two boys and, with a hand on a shoulder of each, pulled them into a hug. “You two go out and have fun.” She placed a kiss on first Virgil’s and then Gordon’s forehead. “Be good, look after each other, and don’t get into any trouble!”
She ushered them through the door and watched them head out, turning back to wave goodbye to her from the front gate before continuing westward towards the top track. She would always worry about her boys out there on their own, but they all knew the rules and had repeatedly been warned of the various dangers contained within their little patch of wilderness. Virgil was not inclined to be reckless or break the rules, but the lure of an interesting view could distract him at times. Looking after a younger brother would help keep his attention more focused. It was one of Lucy’s secret weapons. Pairing a big brother with a little one always seemed to make the big brother more inclined to obey the rules and watch for dangers.
The two boys made quick progress across the open paddock towards the trees, Virgil striding out confidently, Gordon occasionally having to run for a few steps to catch up. Once they reached the track that wound its way through the trees, the pace began to slow. Virgil’s gaze wandered as he walked, noticing in great detail the colours of the foliage and tree bark, the stark contrasts formed by shafts of sunlight filtering between the trees and highlighting this branch or those leaves. He would hear the cry of a bird and look up, searching the treetops to see if he could catch sight of the culprit. Despite the distractions, however, Virgil didn’t stop walking. He had a destination in mind, and he was keen to get there so he could start drawing.
Gordon found distractions of his own along the track. He’d hear skittering noises in the dirt and leaf litter beside the track and stop to see if he could spot the creature that had scuttled away. He found spiderwebs woven between the trees and bushes, and noted with interest whether or not the spider was home and if they’d caught anything. He, too, would search the trees and sky for birds that called out their various songs. Unlike Virgil, Gordon stopped often and would have to run to catch up to his bigger brother, usually after Virgil called out to him to hurry up.
After falling behind for the fourth time, Gordon decided to run ahead along the track a bit. That way Virgil would have to catch up to him! He stopped short when he came to the fork in the track. An idea struck him, and he jogged back to his brother.
“Hey, Virgil?” He had a glint in his eye that the older boy knew well enough to be worried about. “We should go down to the lake!”
“No.”
“Oh, come on! Why not?” His voice was verging on whiny and his expression close to a pout.
“We’re not supposed to go to the lake on our own, it’s –”
“We’re not on our own, we have each other!” Gordon didn’t want to give Virgil a chance to argue or talk about possible dangers. “We’re not gonna do anything dangerous or anything. It’s nice by the lake. Besides, you said your pencils were watercolours. Shouldn’t you draw something with water?”
“That’s not . . . Uugghh!” Virgil sighed, rolled his eyes, and rubbed a hand through his hair. He knew steering this particular brother away from water was going to be a hard sell, and if he was honest with himself, his little brother was right about the lake being a good place to draw. It would give him an opportunity to practice drawing reflections, which was something he’d been wanting to experiment with. And the view across the lake was pretty spectacular. But swimming in the lake could be dangerous. If they went to the lake, Virgil knew his entire day would be spent watching Gordon in the water.
Gordon studied the expression on his brother’s face for some sign of what he was thinking. He had that look of intense concentration he used when he was figuring out how to fix something.
Virgil slowed to a stop and looked down at Gordon. “If we go to the lake –” As Virgil spoke, Gordon’s face broke out in a wide gap-toothed grin as he sensed he had won. “I said if! If we go to the lake, you have to promise me you won’t go for a swim. I came here to draw, not play lifeguard.”
“Aww! Virge, it’s summer! It’s a great day for a swim.” His smile was gone, and he now had to trot alongside his brother as Virgil began walking again, setting a brisk pace. He was going to have to fight hard to get his way. “Pleeeeease!” No reaction. “What if I promise not to go in any deeper than up to here?” He indicated his waist.
Virgil’s eyebrows drew down into somewhat of a scowl, but he slowed his walking pace again. “You have to stay dry above the knees,” he said.
“Yes! Okay, I can do that.” Gordon’s big, infectious grin was back, and he literally bounced with happiness and excitement at his victory. “I promise I won’t go in past my knees, and I’ll be good so you can just do your drawings.”
Virgil tried to keep his expression serious, but his little brother’s glee was so irresistible he couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Pretty soon he was grinning too, and they headed down the left fork in the track towards the lake.
As they descended the narrow trail, weaving between trees and larger rocks, the hard-packed dirt underfoot gradually giving way to sandy soil, Gordon’s excitement was barely containable. He ran ahead down the track, calling to Virgil to hurry, ran back to his brother urging him to walk quicker, tugging at his hand, gave up, and ran ahead again before he could even see Virgil roll his eyes. The whole process was then repeated. Twice.
Soon enough the trees lining the track thinned out, allowing glimpses of dark blue water. The track curved, and suddenly they emerged from the trees onto an expanse of silty sand with the lake spread out before them, rippling and glistening in the sunlight. The dark greens of the trees on the far side of the lake separated dark blue water from pale blue sky on the horizon.
Gordon ran straight to the water’s edge, while Virgil took a moment to take in the entire scene. The lake itself didn’t cover a particularly large area, but it was very deep in places. Virgil estimated that it was more than half a mile from side to side, north to south, and possibly as far as three hundred metres to the trees on the other side from where Gordon now stood. The hills to the north funnelled water down into the lake via a network of creeks and streams. The surface of the lake looked relatively calm, but it hid unpredictable undercurrents as the water worked its way to the small stream that trickled away from the natural dam at the lake’s southern tip. There were a few tiny islands dotted throughout the lake, most of them closer to the far side, some large enough to have trees growing on them, others no more than large rocks with their tops protruding from the water.
A short walk along the water’s edge northward took Virgil past a small wooden pier with a little dinghy tied to it, gently rocking and bumping with the lazy motion of the water. Beyond that, the flat sand gave way to a series of rocky, sloped banks. Picking his way up over some of the lower rocks, Virgil climbed up onto a large, relatively flat boulder that afforded him a good view and room to set out all his materials. He could see the beach (as Gordon called it) and his brother discarding his shoes and socks so he could explore the shallows and the little boat attached to the pier, with the water stretching away before him.
Once he had carefully unpacked his easel and sketchbook and placed his pencils beside him within easy reach, Virgil began to sketch out some rough outlines. It wasn’t long before Gordon popped his head up over the edge of Virgil’s rock platform.
“Is that all you’ve done so far?” he asked with curious disbelief. “You should use more colours.”
“Gordon.” Virgil’s tone was a warning.
“Okay, okay,” Gordon said, raising his hands, palms outwards. “I just wondered if it’s lunchtime yet. I’m hungry.”
Virgil resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he looked at his younger brother, searching for any signs of mischief and finding none. He realised Gordon was probably right, it was time for lunch. Virgil had been too caught up in what he was doing to notice how long it had been since they’d eaten breakfast.
“All right, let’s see what Mom packed for us to eat.” He dug the lunchbox and water bottles out of his backpack while Gordon climbed up onto the rock and sat cross-legged beside him.
Neither boy was surprised to find their mom had provided each of them with their favourite sandwich toppings, and they ate hungrily. Gordon would have polished off all the snacks too, but Virgil prudently suggested they should save those for later. They washed the sandwiches down with a hearty helping of water, making sure to save some of that too. When their little picnic was done, Gordon started to scamper back down over the rocks.
“You can go back to drawing now,” he delivered a parting shot with that cheeky grin, “I’m gonna go see if I can find any fish.”
“Stay out of the water,” Virgil warned. “You just ate.”
“Ugh! I’m not stupid, Virgil! And besides, I’m only going in up to my knees, remember!”
“I remember. I’ve just gotta make sure you do!” Virgil watched as Gordon started to clamber down the rocks. “Stay where I can see you!” he called after him. “And be careful! The rocks can get slippery.”
“I’ll be fine!” Gordon yelled back, and added under his breath, “Spoilsport.”
“I heard that!”
Virgil didn’t see Gordon poke his tongue out before he ran off along the sand to go and get his feet wet again. He stood in the shallow water, running his hands over the slimy reeds looking for little fish. He spent some time digging his toes into the sand to see what little creatures came darting out into the water as it clouded around his feet. Virgil’s focus was split between the landscape that was rapidly developing on the paper and keeping tabs on Gordon. Every little, excited exclamation had Virgil looking along the beach, wondering what his brother had found. But his attention was inevitably pulled back to his watercolour sketch.
Coming out of the water for a while, Gordon picked his way along the sand, gathering a pocketful of stones before finding a spot to stand and skip them across the surface of the lake. He was pretty proud of the one he managed to get to skip eight times before it sank. The clicky slap of the first skipped stone had Virgil’s head turning to watch, making sure his brother was still keeping out of trouble. He wondered who had taught Gordon to skip stones and fondly remembered Scott showing him how it was done. Gordon was actually pretty good at it, and he kept at it for quite a while.
After that, Gordon wandered closer to the trees looking for beetles and interesting insects. He even took one or two of them over to show Virgil. He did the same with some of the smooth pebbles he’d found, especially the ones that had pretty colours or unusual patterns. Virgil liked those ones, he could tell. And every time he returned to Virgil up on his rock, while he munched on a snack or took a drink of water, he took a peek at what his brother was drawing. There was one main drawing of the view across the lake that was more and more detailed every time Gordon saw it, but there were some other smaller sketches too. Gordon wasn’t sure if they were like little practice drawings for things that Virgil wanted to add to the main one or if they were something else. It looked like some of those extra sketches included him, some were of the treasures he’d brought to show his brother, and some he couldn’t quite decipher yet.
The afternoon sun beat down on them, too high in the sky for any shadows long enough to provide decent shade. Virgil barely noticed, but Gordon felt the heat. He had climbed back down from Virgil’s perch and was now sitting on the end of the little boat dock dangling his feet in the water. He kicked his feet, splashing and watching new ripples form. The water was pleasantly cool against his legs, but his head and shoulders yearned for that same refreshing feeling. He looked out across the lake, longing to jump in and immerse himself in liquid heaven. He was regretting his promise.
“Gordon,” Virgil called down to him, “stop splashing around so much. I don’t want you falling in.”
In response, Gordon just sighed. A gull squawked nearby, and he watched it wing its way to a large rock protruding from the water, joining other gulls and ibises sunning themselves. It was the closest island to where he sat, and it didn’t look too far to swim to. It was so hot. It would just be a quick swim.
“Hey, Virgil,” Gordon called out, twisting his body around to look up at his brother, “how far do you think it is to that big rock out there?”
Virgil took a moment to stand up and stretch muscles that he hadn’t really moved in nearly two hours. He looked where Gordon pointed and couldn’t help doing a rough calculation in his head to estimate the distance, but he knew where this question was leading.
“Too far,” he answered. “You’re not going to swim to it. No deeper than your knees, remember?”
“But, Virge . . .”
“No, Gordon! It’s dangerous. We don’t swim out that far when Mom and Dad bring us down here, I’m not letting you go out there alone.”
“But I’m a good swimmer, and the water’s really flat and calm, and it’s so hot . . .”
“I said no!” Virgil was almost shouting now. Why wasn’t Gordon listening to him? Couldn’t he see how bad an idea this was? “It’s gotta be at least eighty metres out to that rock, and you can’t see the currents at work under the surface or the reeds or the cold spots or how deep it is. It’s not like swimming in the pool in town.”
“Eighty metres is easy! I already have my two-hundred-meter freestyle achievement certificate. I’ll be out there and back in no time.” As he spoke, Gordon started removing his T-shirt.
“Gordon, don’t!” Virgil’s heart was hammering at his rib cage like it was trying to break free, and he started making his way down the rocks towards the boat dock, knowing he wasn’t going to be quick enough.
“Bet I’ll do it in the fastest time ever. Time me, Virgil.” And with a flash of a wicked grin, he turned and dived into the water.
Virgil ran across the sand and onto the wooden dock, heart still pounding fit to burst as Gordon swam away. All he could do was stand there and watch. As scared as he was, he couldn’t help being a little bit in awe of his little brother. Even though he was little, he was a good swimmer. From his very first swimming lesson two years ago, he had been very much at home in the water. He learned fast and seemed to have the knack of skimming the surface of the water when he swam – unlike Virgil, who always felt like he was fighting the water, trying to stop it from pulling him down. He didn’t mind admitting that Gordon was a better swimmer than he was, but the little fish had no experience with open water – or getting out of trouble on his own.
It wasn’t long before Gordon was halfway to the rock island, and everything seemed to be going fine. Virgil even managed to start to relax a bit. It seemed like he was going to make it out there just fine. His pace had slowed a little, but that was to be expected. Then suddenly something wasn’t right.
Gordon had slowed right down, almost to a complete stop, his legs no longer breaking the surface with his kicks. He rolled onto his back and made a couple of awkward backstrokes, then he went under. Just for a millisecond. But it was enough to have Virgil scrambling to get into the dinghy. Gordon tried to shout, but the effort seemed to cause his head to bob under again.
Virgil rowed as fast as he could, his head twisted to look over his shoulder, not wanting to take his eyes off his little brother, praying each time he went under that he’d see blond hair break the surface again. Swear words repeated over and over like a mantra with every stroke of the oars. Strong, long strokes propelled the little wooden boat through the water. He fought back panic. He would get there in time. He had to get there in time. He had to save his brother.
Gordon seemed to be losing the battle to stay afloat, arms flailing, panicking, bobbing and spluttering. He knew Virgil was trying to get to him, and he was desperate to keep his head above water until he got there, but kicking was difficult and painful. His left leg was not obeying. He’d never experienced a cramp like this before.
Virgil finally reached the spot where Gordon had just gone under again. Leaning over the side of the boat, mindful of leaning too far and capsizing, he grabbed a flailing arm with one hand and reached the other into the water to grab a handful of blond hair. He ignored the shock of the cold mere inches below the surface and hauled his brother up far enough for him to gasp for air. He adjusted his grip and dragged Gordon into the boat, where he lay coughing and spluttering, shivering and absolutely terrified. Virgil sat, boat rocking beneath them, breathing hard and equally terrified, watching his brother, grateful for the coughing because at least he knew he was still breathing.
“You okay?” Virgil panted out once the coughing had died down a little.
“Cramp!” Gordon gasped out in reply, indicating his left leg.
“Calf muscle? Here?” Virgil was kneeling with Gordon’s left foot resting on his thigh, fingers gently kneading into his calf. Gordon responded with a nod and a little groan of pain.
Virgil spent a few minutes massaging the cramped muscle. He wasn’t sure if Gordon’s tears were from the pain in his leg or fear or relief, but he suddenly felt like he’d do anything to stop them. All he could offer were words of reassurance. Words that comforted both of them.
“It’s okay, Gords. You’re okay. You’re safe now.”
Virgil’s fingers worked methodically, gently, gradually relaxing the muscle, relieving Gordon’s agony, and calming both of them down in the process. Gordon was soon wriggling his leg free of Virgil’s grasp to sit up on the floor of the little rowboat. He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs, still shivering.
“Hold on, Gordon.” Virgil shifted himself back onto the seat and took up the oars. “Let’s get you back to shore and then we can warm you up.”
Rowing back to the wooden dock seemed to take so much longer than it had to row out into the lake. Virgil wasn’t sure if this was because there were currents working against him or if he was just a great deal more tired now. Or maybe it was the lack of terrifying urgency driving his actions on the return trip. Either way, he was grateful to make it safely to the dock and get the boat secured. Gordon was adamant he could get out of the boat on his own, but Virgil’s assistance was accepted readily when he found himself unsteady on his feet.
Virgil retrieved the T-shirt Gordon had so hastily tossed aside earlier and draped it over his little brother’s back. It didn’t take much convincing for Gordon to remain sitting on the dock in the same knees-huddled-to-chest position he’d adopted in the boat while Virgil raced up to his rock platform to retrieve all his gear. He also made a quick dash across the sand to find Gordon’s discarded shoes before returning. He didn’t like how quiet and still the normally boisterous boy was. The paleness of his skin and the fact he was still shivering – or perhaps trembling – worried him even more. The now damp T-shirt had been pulled on over his head but offered little in the way of warmth.
“Hey, Gordon. Arms up,” Virgil instructed, holding his own hoodie ready to slip over the blond head.
Gordon did as he was told without comment or complaint, seeming to Virgil a little like some sort of robotic puppet. The hoodie was way too big, but it was soft and thick and most importantly dry. With head and arms now inserted into their correct holes, Virgil knelt in front of Gordon and pulled the hoodie down over his entire tucked-up body. Not even his feet protruded from beneath the hem. He then wrapped his arms around the whole bundle of little brother and rubbed vigorously to generate some heat.
“Virgil?” Glossy brown eyes peeked out from beneath the sweater’s hood. The voice was quiet and had a quality to it that felt somehow small and uncertain. “I’m sorry.”
The look in his brother’s eyes, more than the words, stung Virgil somewhere deep inside. “What?” Virgil answered. “What for?”
“I didn’t listen. You told me not to and I . . .”
“That doesn’t matter now.” Virgil’s arms tightened ever so slightly around him, and Gordon rested his head against his big brother’s shoulder. “All I care about right now is making sure you’re okay.”
For a moment, the two boys stayed locked in the embrace, Gordon letting the feeling of safety envelop him, Virgil feeling the rise and fall of Gordon’s chest with every breath. He was relieved to find his brother relaxing into an even, steady pattern of deep breaths. There was no sign of any wheezing, and the coughs and splutters seemed long gone.
“Come on. Let’s get you home,” Virgil said softly, giving Gordon’s back one final rub before releasing the hug.
He slipped his backpack straps over his shoulders, held his hands out for Gordon to take so he could help him onto his feet, then lifted him up into a reverse piggyback hold. Gordon’s arms looped around his neck, and his legs wrapped around his waist without hesitation or protest, and Virgil set off for home at a slow but steady pace.
The gentle but constant incline of the path back to the top track gave Virgil quite a workout with the additional weight he carried, but he took it in his stride. Gordon remained so still and quiet, hooded head resting against his left shoulder, Virgil thought he might have fallen asleep. He tried not to jostle his bundle of brother too much as he picked his way up the hill.
When he reached the relative flat ground where the lake path rejoined the top track, Virgil took a moment to catch his breath, and Gordon stirred.
“Hey, Virgil?” he said quietly. “When we get home . . . we don’t have to tell anyone what happened, do we?”
“Gordon, we have to tell Mom. You nearly drowned!”
Gordon caught his brother’s gaze and for the first time saw there was fear in those deep brown eyes. It made something in his insides feel fluttery.
“But I’m okay,” he pleaded. “You saved me.”
“I pulled you out of the water, but . . .” Virgil wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence and sighed. “If you got any water in your lungs, that would be bad. I’m not sure exactly how it works, but sometimes it can make a person have trouble breathing hours after they’ve been rescued from drowning.”
“Oh.” The initial response was almost whispered, then Gordon’s features and tone brightened. “But –”
“Did you swallow any water?” Virgil cut him off. “Because the water in the lake could make you sick if you did.”
Gordon’s brow creased. “No. I don’t think so. Maybe?”
Virgil sighed once more, then began walking again. “I don’t want to scare you, Gords, but what happened out there was a big deal.”
“I know,” Gordon whimpered, and held on to Virgil a little tighter. “But I’m not scared now. I’m safe. I was afraid. In the water, when I thought . . . when I couldn’t . . . It was scary, but now I’m not scared because you’re here and you saved me.”
Virgil remained silent.
“Would it be less scary for you if you stay with me until you know I’m not going to get sick or stop breathing?” Gordon whispered. The rhythm of Virgil’s footfalls faltered for a step or two. “I promise I won’t leave your sight until you’re sure I’m okay. Then we don’t have to tell Mom unless I get sick. Okay?”
For a moment, Virgil couldn’t say anything. The lump in his throat was too much of an obstacle. He blinked a few times to clear his swimming vision, huffed out a ragged sigh, and hitched his brother a little higher on his hips.
“Okay, Little Fish. You got a deal. I won’t tell Mom, and you and I stick together like glue for tonight.”
Not long after their deal was struck Virgil’s steady paces brought them out of the trees and into the paddock, with home in sight. It seemed they had beaten Lucy home, as her car wasn’t parked in its usual spot, but John’s bike was neatly leaned on its stand next to the others, and Virgil suspected Scott was already home too.
He was relieved to finally climb the stairs and deposit Gordon gently on his feet on the front porch. Slipping off his backpack and rolling his shoulders to ease tired muscles, Virgil followed his younger brother through the front door and into the kitchen. He might have known Gordon would gravitate towards food. At least this was a good sign – if Gordon was hungry, then he probably wasn’t feeling any ill effects from swallowing lake water.
“Oh, look. It finally happened,” Scott said with a smirk and an elbow to John’s ribs. “One of Virgil’s hoodies grew legs and walked away.”
“Ha-ha,” Gordon replied as he grabbed the jug of juice from the fridge.
“Seriously, Gordon,” John spoke up from his seat at the kitchen table, where he and Scott had been finishing their afternoon snacks, “what’s with the hoodie? It’s gotta be ninety-six degrees outside.”
“He just wanted to prove me wrong,” Virgil chimed in, walking straight to the cupboard and grabbing a couple of glasses. “I told him he would disappear completely inside one of my hoodies.” He noted the suspicious looks but ignored them as he poured juice for himself and Gordon. “How was the space thing at the library?”
As John began eagerly explaining in great detail the highlights of the interactive exhibition, Virgil met Scott’s expression of curiosity with his best nothing-to-see-here shrug. He knew the innocent look he tried to project wouldn’t be enough to prevent Scott from seeing straight through the change of subject. Scott’s sapphire-blue eyes had the ability to cut like diamonds, and right at that moment Virgil felt the full weight of their scrutiny. He tried to give a reassuring smile and turn his attention to John’s increasingly fast-paced account of the space exhibit.
“Actually, that sounds pretty cool,” Gordon said with an air of surprise and a warm smile at the conclusion of John’s animated description. He drained the dregs of his glass of juice and turned to Virgil. “I’m gonna go upstairs and change clothes.”
“I’ll be up in a minute,” Virgil replied.
Gordon left the room at a trot and bounded up the stairs. Scott and John were both back to studying Virgil intently.
“What?”
“Why’s Gordon so attached to you all of a sudden?” Scott asked. “He’s practically asking you for permission to leave the room.”
Virgil’s gaze flicked between the blue and the turquoise, and he resisted the urge to squirm. “I don’t know. I guess we just had kind of a good day.” It was the only thing Virgil could think of to say.
“You two spent the whole day together and you’re not sick of the sight of each other?” It was John’s turn to question the lack of frustrated bickering that would normally have surfaced between them.
Virgil just shrugged, finished his own glass of juice, and picked up his backpack. “I’m gonna go put this stuff away.” He left the room, deliberately not hurrying but desperate to escape from the interrogation he felt was coming.
As soon as he reached the top of the stairs, Gordon’s bedroom door opened. He was wearing his clownfish pyjamas, and Virgil couldn’t help but grin.
“Virgil?” Gordon packed so much uncertainty into just his name Virgil was a little concerned at what might be coming. “Do you think maybe . . . I mean could we, maybe . . . Do you wanna build a blanket fort with me?”
“Actually, I think that’s a pretty great idea.”
When Lucy arrived home, wrangling a grizzly Alan who had missed his afternoon nap, and exhausted from a rather frustrating day full of unnecessary delays at every stop, she found Scott and John in the kitchen getting dinner started. Neither had seen the other two boys in a while, so she settled Alan in the living room with his favourite cartoon and headed upstairs to investigate. She found them in Gordon’s and Alan’s room. At least, she found evidence that this was where they had been for some time. Half of the room was obscured by a complex construction created out of pillows, blankets, and assorted bed linen supported by various pieces of furniture and some rather ingeniously rigged clothesline string.
“Well, look at you two in here together, thick as thieves!” Lucy said as her head emerged from between two blankets that served as the entrance.
“Hi, Mom! We’re building a blanket fort!” Gordon explained excitedly.
Virgil rolled his eyes. “She can see that, doofus.”
“And it is quite an impressive feat of engineering.” She winked and smiled. “What did you boys get up to on your walk today? Lots of exciting adventures, no doubt.”
A look passed between the two.
“Nothing,” Gordon blurted out, just as Virgil spoke.
“Not much.” Virgil added a shrug and a somewhat apologetic expression. “Just . . . boy stuff.”
“Yeah, Mom. Boy stuff,” Gordon repeated emphatically. “We can’t tell you because you’re a girl.”
Lucy’s head tilted slightly, an eyebrow raised, and the corners of her mouth and eyes began a slow upward quirk into a smile. She wondered what they were up to, but she was happy the two of them were getting along well.
“Hmm. Does this boy stuff include any drawings I’m allowed to see?” If they wouldn’t tell her where they’d been, perhaps she could discern something from Virgil’s sketches.
“Can I show you later? Tomorrow maybe?” Virgil squirmed a little under the inquisitive gaze of those soft, honey-coloured eyes. Usually he loved sharing his artworks with Mom. She always praised the bits she thought he’d done well and knew exactly how to suggest little improvements without making it seem like he’d made mistakes. Sometimes it felt like she saw more in his drawings than what he’d put in them.
“Okay,” she said, changing tack. “Are you two coming out of there to join the rest of us for dinner?”
Another look between the brothers. The plot thickening before her eyes.
“Can we come back in here after dinner?” Gordon asked.
“Could we, maybe, both sleep in here for tonight?” Virgil followed up quickly.
Lucy studied the faces of her two brown-eyed boys. These two were not regular partners in shenanigans. There was something going on here that she was not quite sure she understood just yet, but there didn’t seem to be any harm in what they were asking.
“I don’t see why not,” she answered, and was rewarded with two beaming smiles. “Go wash up and you can set the table while I help your brothers finish up in the kitchen.”
Dinner for the most part was about as chaotic as usual. Alan was still irritable and played with more of his food than he ate, making a mess of himself and the table in front of him in the process. Scott and John both gave lengthy answers to their mom’s enquiries about how they had spent the day. There were all the usual arguments over who would get the last helpings of this or that as plates and dishes were rapidly emptied, their contents hungrily devoured. Virgil and Gordon managed to talk about the more innocent parts of their day, clinging to descriptions of what plants were flowering, the types of birds they saw, the spiders and beetles and butterflies, rather than any specific mention of the lake.
As the scrape of knives and forks on plates finally died down, Lucy began clearing serving dishes off the table.
“How about tomorrow we all have a day at the pool?” Standing behind her water-baby as she spoke, she gave his hair a ruffle.
John and Scott were both quick to answer with excited affirmatives, Alan enthusiastically exclaimed “Swim!”, but she didn’t see the panicked look that flashed across Gordon’s face as he looked across the table at Virgil.
“That sounds great, Mom,” was Virgil’s reply as he kept his eyes firmly on Gordon, trying to relay a sense of calm reassurance that he didn’t really feel.
If anyone noticed Gordon’s lack of enthusiasm at the suggestion, no one made mention of it. Perhaps his reaction was lost in the flurry of activity as the table was cleared and Alan was escorted upstairs for his bath. Virgil did notice an odd expression cross Scott’s face as he watched Gordon begin loading dirty cutlery into the dishwasher, but he said nothing before leaving the kitchen. John and Scott had helped cook dinner, so Virgil and Gordon were left to load the dishwasher and tidy the kitchen.
“Gordon?” Virgil caught his little brother’s attention with a gentle flick of a tea towel, and a sullen expression was his reply. “Don’t you want to go to the pool tomorrow?”
Gordon shrugged.
Virgil kept his voice low, not wanting anyone to hear the conversation. “You always get excited about going to the pool. You’ve been begging Mom to take us every day for the entire summer. People will ask questions if you suddenly don’t want to go.”
The look in Gordon’s eyes was a complicated mixture of fear, sadness, and uncertainty that had Virgil once again wanting to do anything he could to take away the pain. He was about to say something more when he heard John’s voice carry through from the living room and thought better of it. The discussion wasn’t over, but it would have to wait. The rest of their kitchen duty was completed in awkward silence.
Chores done, they headed upstairs, back to their blanket fort. They had barely begun to settle into the pile of pillows and cushions when a small hand, followed by a headful of slightly damp blond hair, poked through from beneath a blanket wall. Bright blue eyes sparkled as a giggle escaped through a cheeky grin.
“Peek-a-boo!” Alan exclaimed and wriggled his way into the enclosure.
“Alan!?” Lucy parted the fort’s entrance with her arms so the blankets draped like a stage curtain. As her eyes came to rest on her littlest, a wave of relief was reflected in her fond smile. “Say good night to your brothers and I’ll read you a story.”
Liberal good-night cuddles were dished out to both big brothers before Lucy ushered Alan out so she could bundle him into bed.
“You two – shower or bath, teeth brushing – go!” she instructed.
By the time Virgil and Gordon had washed and brushed and were attired for bed (again in Gordon’s case), Alan was asleep, the bedroom was illuminated only by Alan’s star projecting night light, and their mom was holding her finger up to her lips.
“Shh. Try not to wake your little brother,” she whispered. She gave each of them a hug and a kiss on the forehead. “Don’t stay up all night!”
Virgil and Gordon were soon alone and comfortably secure in their plush fortress. Their flashlights had been propped between pillows and furniture so they provided a soft glow amid the cosy gloom.
“Talk to me, Fish,” Virgil said softly. “You’ve been so quiet since dinner. Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Gordon’s slumped posture added to Virgil’s impression that his brother looked pretty miserable. “It’s just . . .” A huge sigh escaped his tiny frame.
“You’re worried about tomorrow?” Virgil finished for him.
“Do you think I could tell Mom I have to do some reading for school or something?”
Virgil’s eyes widened and his heart dropped into his stomach. His little brother might not be physically sick or injured, but he was not okay.
“You know that’s not gonna work, Gordon. You’ve been pestering her all summer to take you to the pool. If you suddenly don’t want to go, she’s going to be super suspicious. And nobody will believe that you would ditch the pool in favour of schoolwork. Especially in summer!”
“I know.” Another sigh. A long silence. “It’s just, when Mom said we’d all go to the pool tomorrow I . . . Normally I’d be really excited, but this time I kind of got scared.”
“What are you scared of?” Gordon thought Virgil’s question was a pretty stupid one considering what had happened at the lake, and his scowling glare communicated as much. “I mean, what exactly scares you about going to the pool? Are you afraid you might get into trouble like you did in the lake?” Gordon’s expression turned more quizzical as he considered what Virgil was trying to say. “Because the pool is going to be very different from the lake. The water is clear. You can always see the bottom. The temperature is controlled and kept fairly warm. There’s a lifeguard on duty all the time keeping everyone safe, and we’ll all be there with you. You won’t be on your own, far from shore.”
“I guess.”
“Gordon, you love the water. You always have, even when you were tiny. You’re always happiest when you’re in the water – even if it’s just the bath or splashing in puddles.”
“Not anymore.”
“You have to get back on the horse,” Virgil said absently, almost to himself.
“What? What horse? What does that have to do with the pool?”
“It’s a figure of speech. Something Grandpa says. If you fall off the horse, you’ve gotta get right back on. You can’t let one bad experience make you scared forever, and the sooner you get back up on the horse after falling, the easier it is to ride again.”
Gordon looked uncertain. “So, you’re saying that I have to go to the pool tomorrow and get back in the water or else I might be scared of swimming forever?”
“I’m saying you have to go to the pool tomorrow because swimming makes you happy. You’re good at it, and you can’t let today stop you from doing something that makes you light up like Fourth of July fireworks and grin like the Cheshire Cat.”
There was another long silence. Gordon scooted a little closer to his big brother and rested his head against Virgil’s shoulder. “Will you stay with me tomorrow? At the pool?”
Virgil wriggled his arm under his brother and tugged him closer. “For as long as you need me to,” he affirmed. “We’ll start off in the shallow end. Mess around for a while, just getting wet, splashing about. Pretty soon you’ll be swimming like a fish and I won’t be able to keep up. But I promise I’ll stay close and watch out for you, okay?”
“Okay.” Despite how tired he sounded, there was a brightness to Gordon’s voice that caused a wave of relief to sweep over Virgil.
The day’s exploits had exhausted the two boys. Their little nest was cosy and warm, and the close contact between them helped relax them both as they quickly drifted off to sleep. But Virgil’s usually sound sleep was disturbed by unpleasant dreams. Twice he woke suddenly, heart pounding and breathing hard, certain that something terrible had happened and with an unshakable need to check on Gordon, only to find him safely asleep beside him. He lay awake after each nightmare, watching the even rise and fall of his brother’s chest, noticing every little twitch and murmur made as he slept. He had a feeling it would be a while before he could completely shake these nightmares, but it was comforting to think that Gordon had been spared the same kind of disruption through the night.
***
Morning dawned bright and warm, and despite the duvet cover preventing much sunlight penetrating the sanctuary of the fort, Gordon was awake with the dawn chorus. He tried to let his brother sleep, happy to listen to the soft snores and try not to giggle, but he quickly became impatient. Virgil woke to gentle but insistent poking to the ribs and the repeated whispering of his name. When he peeled his eyes open, he was greeted with brown eyes mere inches in front of his own and a beaming smile.
“We’re going to the pool today, Virgil,” Gordon whispered with a hint of excitement. “You have to get up.”
“Okay, okay,” Virgil managed to somewhat grunt as he sat up, rubbing his eyes. Then he registered the expression on his little brother’s face, the gleam in the eyes and the fact that the smile still hadn’t faltered, and a smile of his own spread from the depths of his heart and across his face.
The mixture of nerves and eagerness thrumming through Gordon all morning was enough to give the rest of the family the impression he was full of barely contained excitement fitting for the day of a visit to the pool. He repeatedly asked when they would be leaving and was repeatedly told they would head out after lunch. He offered to pack everyone’s towels and Alan’s floaties into a bag ready for later, and he fidgeted and bounced his way through to lunchtime.
After lunch, as promised, Lucy piled all the boys into the family car and drove them to the public pool. She paid their admission, and they all tumbled through the turnstile. As usual, Scott, who had never grown out of wanting to go everywhere at top speed, and Gordon raced away to find them a spot on the grass where bags and towels could be unceremoniously dumped before they hit the water. By the time Virgil and John joined them, T-shirts had already been discarded and comments about the fate of the last person into the water were being bandied about. When Lucy was finally able to set down her load of Alan and the bagful of necessities required for their day out, her four oldest boys were already racing towards the Olympic-sized pool. Scott first, John not far behind, and Gordon practically dragging Virgil by the hand.
Lucy kept an eye on her boys happily splashing about with each other in the shallow end of the pool while she got herself and Alan stripped down to their bathing suits and slid Alan’s floaties on over his head and arms. They had started a game of Chicken Fight by the time she slid herself into the water and lifted Alan down into her arms. John, sitting on Scott’s shoulders and Gordon atop Virgil’s, were locked in grappling combat. Scott and John had the advantage of both height and reach, and it was not long before Gordon toppled into the water. A rematch produced the same result in short order, and Gordon exacted revenge by distracting Scott with an underwater pantsing, causing him to break his hold on John, who overbalanced and slid from Scott’s shoulders into the pool. Lucy and Alan laughed along with the others as Scott protested foul play.
Handstand competitions and a game of Freeze Tag followed. Lucy took Alan to the toddler pool where he could splash about more freely, instructing the older boys to behave and try not to bother other pool users too much while she was gone.
Virgil was pleased to see that, just as he’d predicted, Gordon was happily swimming rings around them all as they played. He’d stuck close to Virgil at first, but after the Chicken Fights, he was swimming farther and faster in his efforts to escape being tagged and spending longer underwater with every passing minute. It seemed he had slipped right back into his home environment without any lasting dramas.
As the afternoon shadows grew long, one by one Lucy’s boys returned to their spot on the grass. She and Alan had grown tired of the water first, and Alan had even had a short sleep amongst the pile of towels as they waited for the others to tire themselves out. Scott was first of the older boys to tire of swimming and return to towel off and dress in dry clothes, with John quick to follow. Lucy was a little surprised at how long Virgil lasted in the water until she spotted him sitting on the edge of the pool with just his feet and lower legs in the water watching Gordon as he shot back and forth across the free-play area, dodging strangers. She gave a shrill two-finger whistle. Virgil, recognising the signal, turned his head to look back at her, and she beckoned with her hand to indicate it was time to go. It seemed to take a while to convince Gordon to get out of the pool, but Lucy was not surprised.
The car ride home was a fairly quiet one, the boys having spent a great deal of energy over the course of the afternoon. They brightened at the suggestion of ordering pizza for dinner when they got home, and there was a brief buzz of conversation when she mentioned their father would be home by the weekend.
He had only been away for two weeks, but the older boys had never really grown out of getting excited by his return. This latest trip wasn’t as far away as Mars or even the moon, but the prospect of having Dad home again still triggered that same feeling of welcoming someone who had been long absent. He may not visit space for work any longer, and his absences could be measured in days instead of months or years, but it was always great to have him home again.
“He already has big plans for this year’s Last Day of Summer,” Lucy mentioned with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “It’s only ten days away now!”
While Scott and John speculated on what their dad might have in store for the annual family day at the lake on the last weekend before they went back to school, Virgil felt a small hand slip inside his and squeeze. He looked to his left at Gordon staring silently out the car window and gave a slight hand squeeze of his own in reply. While today had helped, it was obvious his little brother was still harbouring some fear of returning to the lake.
There was no chance for Virgil to talk one-on-one with Gordon when they got home from the pool. As was fairly normal in the Tracy household, there always seemed to be someone else around or something that needed doing, and before he knew it, Gordon was already tucked in bed and reading a bedtime story with Mom.
Virgil took a little longer than normal in the shower, needing the time alone with his thoughts. If Gordon acted anything less than excited about going to the lake for Last Day of Summer, it wouldn’t be long before their little secret would come to light. He had to find a way to get Gordon’s confidence back, but he was starting to wonder if he could manage on his own. With something like this, he would normally talk things out with Scott. It felt wrong to be hiding something from him and even more wrong to be hiding things from Mom. He was beginning to wonder whether he should just let the cat out of the bag and tell the truth, but he really didn’t want to let his little brother down either.
Unable to face revealing how close he’d come to letting his brother drown, Virgil ended up avoiding any chance of conversation for the evening and shut himself away in his room until it was time for bed. John was in and out of the shared bedroom as he began preparing to turn in for the night, but it was not unusual for the two of them to quietly do their own thing without really exchanging words.
When Lucy popped her head inside the door to check on her two quietest boys and say good night, Virgil tried his best to act like everything was normal. Her gaze fell heavily on him for a moment, and he had to fight the urge to tell her everything about the day at the lake and ask her advice.
“Don’t stay up too late, boys,” she playfully warned them. “Lights out by 9:30 please, Virgil, and John, no more stargazing after lights out!”
“Okay, Mom,” they both answered automatically and in chorus. “Good night.”
It took a while for Virgil to fall asleep that night, mind whirling with the thought of his little brother being afraid of something that had always been a source of such joy. There had to be a way to fix it – every problem had a solution, you just had to find it, that’s what Dad would say. As tired as he was, his mind kept trying to focus on finding that solution before drifting away into a sleepy fog.
Gordon didn’t know exactly what time it was, but he knew it was very late. The house was quiet. The room wasn’t dark – Alan’s night-light saw to that – but he couldn’t hear any voices, any indication of anyone moving around downstairs or in the bathrooms and bedrooms. Everyone must be asleep. He had startled awake, sitting bolt upright, breathless, heart pounding, eyes prickling with oncoming tears and really wishing he wasn’t so alone. He’d been dreaming about the lake, and now he didn’t want to go back to sleep. Slipping silently from his bed, he tiptoed across the floor, careful not to disturb Alan, and crept out into the hall. He hesitated for a moment. Normally he would head for his parents’ room, but Mom would ask what the dream was about, and he didn’t want to tell her about swimming in the lake. He didn’t want to get in trouble – or get Virgil into trouble. Gordon changed direction and headed for Virgil’s and John’s room.
Being very careful to open the door without a sound and close it just as silently behind him, Gordon stood in the pitch-dark bedroom for a moment and let his eyes adjust. He couldn’t understand why his bigger brothers liked it so dark, he found it a bit creepy, but he couldn’t turn on the light and risk waking John. It wasn’t long before he could make out the shape of Virgil’s bed amongst the gloom, and he stealthily padded across the carpet to stand beside his sleeping brother. Now that he was here, he wasn’t really sure how to wake him or whether he should. He stood twisting the fingers of both hands around each other, close to tears again.
“Virgil?” he whispered, barely above a breath. No response. “Virge?” This time a little louder, a little more desperate, a little more whiney and accompanied by a sniff. He tried tapping Virgil’s shoulder a few times, but his brother didn’t budge from where he lay curled on his side, facing the wall. In the end, not knowing what else to do, Gordon climbed across the bottom of the bed and squeezed his way past Virgil’s knees, wriggled himself under the covers and Virgil’s arm, and curled himself into the space between his brother and the wall.
It was around three a.m. when Virgil woke to find he wasn’t alone in the bed. He didn’t know how or when Gordon had come to be there, but he could hear him softly whimpering and feel him shaking with the occasional sob.
“Gordon,” he whispered softly, “are you okay?” He tugged his brother a little tighter to him, feeling him struggle to get the sobbing under control and even out his breathing.
“Had a bad dream,” came the ever-so-quiet response.
Virgil eased his grip and shuffled over on the bed, allowing Gordon to roll over and face him, but he kept his hand resting against his brother’s back. Neither of them spoke for a moment, and the quiet darkness seemed both comforting and ominous at the same time.
Gordon heaved a deep breath in and let it out in a sigh before breaking the silence. He kept his voice low, but once he started, the words tumbled out in a torrent. “I can’t go back to the lake for Last Day of Summer, Virgil. I don’t want to go back in the water and everyone will know that’s not normal and want to know why and I don’t want them to know what I did and –”
“Shh,” Virgil soothed, rubbing Gordon’s back as he spoke. “We’ll work something out together. I promise.”
“You mean so we don’t have to go?”
“No, I mean so you won’t be afraid anymore. We have to go. It’s tradition. And I think we both have to go back to the lake and confront our fears.”
“You’re scared too? Wait, what are you scared of?”
It was Virgil’s turn to let out a sigh. “Gordon, as annoying as you sometimes are, you are my little brother, and if anything happened to you – anything really bad, I mean – I’d be . . .” Another sigh. “I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you. And I guess I’m scared of what might have happened. I keep having bad dreams where I couldn’t save you.”
Gordon was suddenly wrapped around him like an octopus, his skinny little arms squeezing tight around Virgil like he was never going to let go and legs twining their way between bedding and body to latch on too. Despite feeling a little bit trapped within the many-limbed embrace, Virgil felt oddly comforted by it.
“You don’t have to hold so tight, little octopus. I’m not going anywhere,” Virgil whispered into blond hair.
“I’m not an octopus,” came the muffled reply, buried somewhere in Virgil’s neck, “I’m a squid.”
“Okay then, Squid. How about we try and get some sleep and work this out tomorrow?”
Gordon’s hold on his brother relaxed enough for them both to get a little more comfortable in the bed, but it was clear he wasn’t letting go. Virgil managed to get one arm disentangled enough to trace his hand back and forth across Gordon’s back, helping to lull him to sleep. Slumber quickly claimed the older brother soon after.
***
Morning crept up on them, dawning overcast and gloomy, despite being summer warm. As a result, Gordon slept later than he normally would and was woken by John’s quiet movements as he rolled out of the bed on the other side of the room and shuffled towards the bathroom. If John noticed the interloper in Virgil’s bed, he didn’t say anything, so Gordon took the opportunity to unceremoniously climb over his brother and hightail it back to his own room.
Virgil woke with a start after yet another nightmare. Sitting up and trying to reacquaint himself with reality, he realised Gordon was no longer with him, and his heart rate ratcheted up a few more notches in brief panic. Catching sight of the clock and taking a few slow, deep breaths, Virgil managed to convince himself that everything was fine, Gordon had obviously just woken up earlier and was more than likely perfectly okay. But he needed to check.
He tumbled out of bed and, after a brief detour to the bathroom, stumbled his way down the corridor in search of Gordon. Finding the tiny two’s bedroom deserted, he headed downstairs and found his target in the living room. Virgil stood in the doorway watching Gordon playing with Alan for a few minutes. Seeing his goofball brother being his normal, animated self and hearing the shrieks and giggles his antics prompted from Alan were enough to reassure him that yes, Gordon was just fine.
Sometime after Virgil had found himself some breakfast and begun to consider himself properly awake, John found him sitting at the piano, absently staring out the window. John didn’t recall hearing Virgil play any practice exercises, and Virgil’s brow was furrowed in deep concentration, so John concluded that he was there more for the familiarity than the urge to play music. He did this sometimes – sat there just thinking, wheels turning, gears shifting, working something out in his head – and John always found it interesting to watch the thought process play out through Virgil’s expressions. But the expression wasn’t changing.
“Virgil?” John prompted with some concern. “You okay?”
With a jolt, Virgil tore his eyes away from the view he wasn’t really seeing out the window and focussed them on John.
“Yeah.” Virgil sighed. “I just have something I need to do, something that needs fixing, and I don’t know how to do it.”
“Look it up,” John answered with a shrug. “That’s what I’d do. There’s probably a book about it somewhere or a repair manual or instructional video. If I want to know how something works or how to do something, I start with research.”
With that, John walked away, leaving Virgil to ponder how to research fixing a fear of swimming in a lake. And then it hit him. Research was the answer, he just had to look up the right thing – not how to fix the fear, but all the things there were to be afraid of. The more information you know about the thing you’re afraid of, the less scary it becomes. So, all he had to do was look up everything that could cause someone to get into trouble swimming in a lake – and maybe rivers, streams, and oceans too – and learn everything about them. If he knew how to spot the dangers or how to prevent them and how to get out of trouble, then maybe Gordon wouldn’t be afraid anymore.
Virgil set off at a run to go and find Gordon.
At first, Gordon wasn’t sure about this idea of Virgil’s. Sitting in front of a holoscreen looking up information sounded a lot like homework. But Virgil was insistent that they at least give it a try. After all, it couldn’t hurt to know more about different waterways.
“Okay, so where do we start?” Gordon asked as they settled themselves at the big desk in the corner of the living room.
“Well, what scares you most when you think about going swimming in the lake?”
“Getting another cramp.” Gordon’s reply was quiet, and suddenly Virgil hated himself for making his little brother revisit that moment when everything had gone wrong. He put his hand on Gordon’s shoulder and offered a reassuring squeeze.
“Then let’s start there. We can find out what causes cramps when you swim and learn how to prevent them or how to manage them.”
Virgil found a great deal of information on muscle cramps related to swimmers, which he quickly became quite absorbed in. He had to remind himself to stick to the sites with simple wording and steer clear of the ones that crossed too far into medical jargon territory. The boys learned the importance of warming up before swimming, being careful not to overexert the muscles, and staying hydrated. They also found that cold water could increase the chance of cramping. Virgil physically shivered at the memory of plunging his arm into deceptively cold water to grab at one of the only parts of his little brother he could still see.
They researched swimming in cold water, what caused cold spots in lakes and rivers and whether you could spot them, and ways you could avoid them or deal with them. They learned about different types of currents – ones you could see, and ones you wouldn’t know about until you felt them. Submerged objects, reeds and seaweed, rocks and tree roots . . .
“What are you guys doing?” Scott startled them so badly Virgil jumped and Gordon squeaked.
“Researching water safety.” Virgil decided honesty was the best way to go . . . to a point. “It’s for Rescue Scouts.”
“But we don’t go back to Rescue Scouts until a week after school goes back.” Scott eyed both brothers suspiciously.
“We know, but there’s no harm in getting in early, and Gordon really wants his Water Safety badge.” Virgil had to resist the urge to squirm under the scrutiny of his big brother’s gaze as Scott remained silent for what seemed like a whole minute.
“Well, it’s time for lunch,” Scott finally said before turning his back on them and heading for the kitchen.
Gordon grinned up at Virgil, who huffed out a long exhale in relief. He didn’t think Scott completely believed the Rescue Scout story, but it seemed as though they would be able to continue their research unquestioned.
In fact, no one questioned the time these two spent together in snatches of an hour or two here and there over a couple of days, continuing to search out information on the best ways to stay safe in just about any body of water. Gordon had even made a scrapbook of notes and pictures so he could keep track of all the things they’d learned. Excuses aside, when Rescue Scouts resumed after the summer break, Gordon would already be well on his way to earning his Water Safety badge in earnest.
As promised, Jeff was back home by the time the boys awoke on Saturday morning, and he began dropping hints about his plans for the best Last Day of Summer yet. It was to be bigger and better than ever before because, for the first time since they began making the end-of-summer vacation a celebration, it coincided with Virgil’s birthday. The first hints encouraged the boys to check their tents and sleeping bags. It wouldn’t just be a day out with a picnic lunch this year, it would be an overnight campout. There was a promise of campfire tales and s’mores and a special surprise that required the night sky as a backdrop.
There were hints about guests that prompted a whole day of guessing who might be joining them at the lake. Grandma and Grandpa were the first confirmed additions to the guest list, along with “Uncle” Lee and a mysterious extra guest from England and his daughter, who was apparently around Virgil’s and John’s age.
Amidst all the building excitement about the big event at the end of the week, signs of Gordon’s nervousness about returning to the lake were easily missed by the rest of the family. Only Virgil saw the signs – the slight frown at Scott’s mention that they’d all need to remember to bring their swimmers and towels, the look of horror at John wondering if he’d see more stars if he rowed out into the lake after dark. Virgil decided he’d have to take Gordon back to the lake before the weekend. They needed to return to the scene of the crime.
Gordon, having come to much the same conclusion in his own way, approached Virgil after breakfast on the Wednesday. The day was clear and bright, much like it had been on the morning of that fateful day little more than a week before. It seemed like a good day to go back and face the monster that the lake had become.
“Virgil,” Gordon said quietly, despite there being no one else in the living room at the time, “can we go back to the lake today? Can you take me?”
“Today seems like a good day to me,” Virgil answered with a gentle smile. “We’ll have to tell Dad we’re going out for most of the day.”
Now that Jeff was back from his trip and working from the home office, Lucy was spending more time at work. The boys were expected to look after each other and only interrupt their father if it was important, but Jeff would check up on them all throughout the day.
“Do we have to say where we’re going?” Gordon twined his fingertips around each other, raising his eyes to meet Virgil’s from a head trying to look down at the floor.
“We’ll tell him we’re going back to the place we visited last week to finish the drawing,” Virgil suggested. “It’s not exactly a lie. We are going back to the same place.”
The knock on Jeff’s office door was tentative but loud enough that he heard it over the voice of the colleague on the other end of the video call. He muted his audio to tell his visitor to wait a moment before unmuting and bringing the phone conversation to a conclusion.
“Come in,” he finally called towards the closed door. He was a little surprised by the request for this particular pair to spend a day out together on their own, but he remembered Lucy mentioning something about these two having been out on the top track the week before.
He gave them permission to go provided they tell Scott and John where they were going and promise to be back by five.
“Take something to eat and plenty of water, Virgil,” he reminded the older boy, “and look after your brother.”
“I will, Dad.” Virgil gave a solemn nod, and the two boys slipped back out of the office, closing the door behind them.
Bag packed with sandwiches and water bottles, art supplies for the sake of appearances, and towels, the boys were soon striding out across the paddock towards the top track. This time there were no lingering looks at the scenery as they walked – the birds, spiders, and bugs were largely ignored. Unlike the last time they had set out together, Virgil had no desire to hurry, and he let his younger brother set the pace. He noted with a small amount of pride the purposeful strides, the determination in the set of squared shoulders, and the fire in amber eyes as Gordon focused his energy on reaching their destination so he could do what needed to be done.
Gordon’s determined march stuttered to a somewhat abrupt halt when they rounded the last curve and stepped onto the silty sand of the lake’s beach. With his eyes fixed on the water, shoulders drooping, it seemed Gordon’s fire had died. Without a word, Virgil placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, the simple gesture having the desired effect – lending the younger boy enough resolve to steel himself once again, lengthen his spine, and straighten his shoulders.
Virgil steered them over to a patch of sand where he could spread out a towel for them to sit on. Shoes were shed in preparation for the inevitable trip to the water’s edge, but the boys remained seated.
“What do you see out there?” Virgil asked.
“It’s the same. Calm. Flat. But it’s different from last time too.”
Virgil waited for a moment before trying again, wanting Gordon to see past the feeling of fear. “Remember what we learned about studying the ripples?” he prompted. “Is it really flat and calm?”
There was silence as Gordon’s gaze focused intently on the expanse of blue stretching before them. The embers of the fire that had previously lit his eyes seemed to ignite anew as he studied the surface, looking for telltale signs.
“There are reeds just under the surface over there,” he said, pointing a little to their left, “and the ripples over here are different to that bit farther out where it looks really smooth.”
Virgil could see Gordon’s confidence growing as he gestured to various parts of the lake, telling his big brother what the differences in the rippled and smooth areas were likely to mean in terms of what was going on beneath the surface. Pretty soon they were on their feet and striding into the shallows to test the waters.
Gordon entered the water at a slow walk, which Virgil thought was through caution or trepidation at first, but then Gordon gently trailed fingertips through the reeds and beckoned his big brother over.
“Virgil, come look,” he called, looking up at him with a grin. “There are fish that feed in the reeds.”
The next half hour was spent following Gordon through the shallows exploring the aquatic life found therein. As the younger boy got more caught up in watching the fish, finding different types of reeds, discovering eels, and excitedly pondering all manner of life in the depths of the lake, they wandered deeper into the water. Virgil followed and listened, answering questions as best he could when asked, smiling fondly all the while. The Squid was in his element.
“Hey Gordon,” Virgil said as he playfully splashed a well-aimed hand scoop of water into the side of his little brother’s head. “You realise you’re getting your shirt wet, right?”
Gordon looked down at the water that was now up to the middle of his chest and back up at his brother with a grin. “Oops.”
They briefly returned to the little beach, shed their shirts, and laid them down in the sun to dry.
“You know, when we come back this weekend, we’ll mostly be swimming out here where we just were.” Virgil nodded his head back towards the little patch of lake they’d just explored. “We could go a little deeper, actually lift our feet off the bottom and swim for a while. This is the only part of the lake any of us have ever really swum in before.”
Gordon’s eyes sparkled with light reflecting off the water as he pondered Virgil’s words for a moment. Mom and Dad had always suggested the boys shouldn’t swim out past where they could touch the bottom and definitely never past the end of the wooden pier. Looking at the pier and the dinghy tied securely to its mooring drew his eye to the rock island beyond, tantalisingly close, yet so terrifyingly far.
Virgil watched his squid brother scanning the water, casting his gaze over the safe and familiar. He saw the moment the line was crossed and thoughts turned to the challenge just that little farther afield. Once again, he placed a hand on Gordon’s shoulder, hoping to redirect his thoughts.
“Why don’t we just go back in, swim around for a while, have some fun where we know it’s safe?”
“Yeah, okay,” Gordon agreed, a little half-heartedly.
Virgil took his brother by the hand, and by the time they’d taken two steps, they were running towards the water. He only let go once they were in deep enough that a tug of the hand lifted Gordon’s feet off the bottom and propelled him a short distance through the water. He received a splash to the face for his efforts, but his little brother was smiling and treading water. In no time at all, Gordon was literally swimming rings around his big brother, splashing at him and darting away, taunting him, daring him to swim after him.
It was hunger that drove them out of the water and back onto the dry sand sometime later. PB&J sandwiches were retrieved from the backpack and devoured. The late summer sun warmed their shoulders as they sat in content silence, listening to the lapping of the water and the cries of the birds. Virgil would have been happy to remain there soaking it all in, but Gordon soon became restless, his gaze drifting back to where water birds were drying their outstretched wings.
“Virgil, I wanna swim to the rock.”
The fire was back in Gordon’s eyes. Virgil studied him for a moment, seeing that same determination that had driven the march to the lake. He wasn’t asking for permission, he was making a statement. It was what he’d come here to do – the demon he needed to conquer. Virgil wasn’t feeling anywhere near as courageous as his little brother looked at that moment.
“Gordon . . .”
“I need to do it, Virgil.” He turned his head, those glowing embers burning straight into his big brother’s wide brown eyes. “But I need you.”
“I can’t . . .”
“Use the boat. I’ll swim, you row. If I get into trouble, you’ll be right there.”
Virgil had to look away. The intensity in those eyes, the body language, the strength of will in his little brother were too much. But it was the faith Gordon was placing in him that was twisting his gut. He caught sight of the rock island, out there beyond the boat docked at the pier. He was suddenly very aware of his own heartbeat thumping just a little too hard and a little too fast. Gordon needed this – needed him to do this with him. He couldn’t let the Squid down.
“Okay,” he agreed with a sigh.
He had expected a look of triumph, a smile, a victory dance . . . something. Anything but the simple nod and determined knitting of Gordon’s brow that he received in reply. The younger boy then grabbed his water bottle and took a long draught.
“Staying hydrated helps stop you getting cramps, right?” Gordon asked. Virgil nodded. “And I should do some warmup stretches before I swim out there.”
“Right again.” Virgil was gladdened by the amount of thought and preparation Gordon was putting into the task ahead of him this time.
“And you’ll stay close in the boat?” There it was, the uncertainty just below that confident façade.
“Right beside you all the way, little brother.” Virgil tried to school his expression into one of reassurance, but he wasn’t sure he managed it.
They made their way across the sand and onto the wooden planks of the pier, then stood studying the expanse of water for a moment, watching the ripples and trying to read currents. Looking for dangers.
At last Virgil could put it off no longer. Gordon was warmed up and ready to go, they had assessed the risks and had plans in mind for just about any eventuality. It was time to untie the boat and take up the oars. Sitting in the gently rocking dinghy, Virgil had to take a moment to close his eyes and concentrate on a few deep breaths to quell the hammering in his ribcage before looking back up at Gordon and giving a nod. He was as ready as he’d ever be.
This time when Gordon dived in, he began his swim with a measured pace rather than a burst of speed that he wouldn’t be able to maintain. Virgil didn’t have to work too hard on the oar strokes to keep up with him. Not far out there was a brief moment of panic when Gordon suddenly stopped his forward momentum and started treading water. An odd expression furrowed his brow, then he ducked his head under the water. Dropping the oars and preparing to make a grab for his brother, Virgil was sure his heart stopped beating altogether for a second before the blond head re-emerged above the surface. Seeing the panic in his big brother’s eyes, Gordon grinned and held up the weed he’d just untangled from his leg.
“It’s okay, Virge, no cramps, just waterweed.” And with that, he resumed his swim with a flurry of swift kicks and smooth strokes.
By the time Virgil could regather the oars – and his wits – his little brother was ten meters ahead of him. It took only a few strong pulls on the oars to catch up again, but Virgil knew his pulse rate was not going to climb down out of the stratosphere until they were both on dry land.
It felt like an eternity, but in reality, it was only a few minutes before Gordon was able to lay his hands on the slippery surface of the rock. Finding a decent hold, he clambered up far enough to sit on a crag, feet still in the water, triumphant grin lighting up his features, water droplets catching the sunlight, causing his hair and skin to glisten as he caught his breath.
“I knew I could do it!” he panted as Virgil drew the dinghy close beside him.
“I never doubted you, Squiddo,” Virgil agreed, practically beaming with pride at his brother’s achievement. “Now, are you gonna swim back? Or do you want a lift?”
Gordon’s eyes widened in surprise. He hadn’t really thought about the return trip. Virgil chuckled.
“Um, I think maybe I’ll just come back with you in the boat.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, dragging it back from where it was dripping into his eyes.
“No problem, Fish. You’ve proved enough for one day.”
With a bit of manoeuvring, jostling, and boat rocking, Gordon was able to climb into the dinghy and settle himself into the seat at the prow. To him, the journey back to the dock seemed to take no time at all. Virgil’s strong, steady strokes with the oars propelled them quickly and smoothly through the water as though it took no effort at all. He jumped out of the boat and onto the pier before Virgil had even finished drawing the oars into the boat, then waited for Virgil to climb out and secure the mooring.
“Virgil?” It was all the warning the older boy got as he turned to face his little brother, who closed the space between them at a run and launched himself into what became a squid hug, arms and legs tightly wrapped around Virgil’s torso. It took Virgil a couple of backward steps before he could steady himself under the sudden additional weight. “Thank you. You are the best big brother.”
Virgil returned the embrace, allowing a chuckle to escape as he rested his head against damp hair. “You are a pretty amazing little brother, Squid.”
***
The Last Day of Summer celebration, and Virgil’s twelfth birthday turned out to be a fantastic, fun-filled event for all involved. Nothing could hold Gordon back from spending as much time as possible in the water, and so no one knew there had ever been a problem. The nightmares had run their course too. Summer vacation came to an end, and with the start of the school term, life returned to normal.
A few weeks later a chance meeting at school pickup resulted in a few puzzle pieces slotting into place for Lucy. Gordon’s class teacher spotted Lucy waiting in the Kiss & Drop zone and made a passing comment about his wonderful piece of creative writing for the obligatory “What I Did Over Summer” assignment.
When they got home, with the boys all occupied with snacks or homework and various afterschool activities, Lucy dug out Gordon’s writing workbook and found the story in question titled “My Summer Vacation,” with a large A+ written in red at the top of the page.
My Summer Vacation
I did lots of things in summer with my big brothers and we had lots of fun but there was one scary day. I went swimming in the lake when I wasn’t supposed to and I nearly drowned but my brother was there and he saved me. After that I was scared to go swimming, but he told me it would make him sad if I didn’t swim anymore because he says swimming makes me happy. We looked up all the ways you can get into trouble swimming in lakes and rivers and oceans. We found out all the ways you can look for dangers and get out of trouble in the water and how to be safe. Now I’m not scared to go swimming anymore.
Well, that explained a great deal. Lucy smiled to herself and shook her head a little. She would have words with Virgil about the kind of secrets that needed to be shared with an adult, but she was struck once again by how amazing her boys could be and just how far they would go for one another.
***
#thunderbirds are go#thunderfam#gordon tracy#virgil tracy#thunderbirds fanfiction#thunderbirds fanart#katblu42#kidthunder's art#tag mini bang 2021
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So sorry, my fault I haven't checked the original prompt post with your comments! Doctor x Rose, 13 and 30 if you want to, please :)
Rosebush & nightgown
Nine x Rose; Medieval/Fantasy~ish AU; Rated: light M
I’m taking prompts!
//
The Harvest moon cast an orange glow over the Duke’s castle and its bountiful surroundings. John of Gallifrey, the captain of the guards, walked the length of the north wall. His chain mail chinked with every step, loud in the quiet night. Quiet that was soon disturbed by snapping branches and mumbled profanity.
Drawing his sword, John approached the rosebushes where the noise was coming from.
A cloaked figure was fighting the thorny branches. Their hood fell off, revealing the blond hair of a maiden.
John relaxed. He sheathed his sword, but kept his hand on the pommel, as he watched the woman struggle to get off the bush. With the sound of ripping fabric, she rolled off and landed on her arse.
“Ouch! Son of a lich.”
John snorted, and Rose noticed him for the first time.
“I thought I told you to stay away,” he said.
“I thought I told you, Captain, the villagers need my help,” she retorted.
He’d seen her a few times, stealing medicinal plants from the gardens, but never caught her until about a month ago. Still, he’d let her off with a warning. A warning she hadn’t taken heed of, obviously. Anger rose in him; he’d tried to help, but now he’d have to arrest her.
“Don’t you know how to grow your own plants? Some herbalist, you are.”
She didn’t answer, which made him suspicious, she always talked back.
“Unless… you’re not stealing from the Mage’s garden, are you? Oh, you stupid maid.”
“The way I see it, everyone’s sick because the Duke is making them work so hard and taking all their food. It’s only fair we take something back from him.”
John wished he could argue with that logic. In fact, he wished he could do more for the villagers. Since the former Duke’s death, his greedy son had taken over. John and his men used to help tenants with construction work and harvest (in fact he’d helped Rose’s mother, widow Tyler), nowadays, he spent most of his time guarding one landlord’s wealth.
Clouds parted, and in the full moonlight, he saw for the first time how badly hurt she was. Her cloak was torn, her face scratched and her fists clenched in pain.
“Rose…”
“Can I go now?”
He looked around. She couldn’t climb back over the wall in this state, and he couldn’t sneak her out with this bright moonlight without his men noticing.
“Come with me,” he ordered, striding ahead.
Rose hesitated, uncertain about his intentions. He hadn’t gripped her arm or threatened her with a weapon, so she decided to trust him.
As captain, John had his own, private lodgings, a thatch-roof hut beside the guards’ casern. He opened the door for Rose. It was spartan but cozy, a table, an armoire and a bed. Various weapons and armor pieces hung on the walls. Above the fireplace, a tapestry represented not a battle but a folk tale.
John removed his studded leather armor and chain mail. He stoked the fire. As the light grew, so did his awareness of Rose’s injuries. Her back had taken the brunt of it. Carefully, he helped her remove her cloak. She clenched her jaw and breathed through her nose, holding back moans of pain. The white linen dress underneath was spotted with blood.
“Are you running about, robbing the Duke in your nightgown?” he asked, incredulous.
“I couldn’t well put my dress on without waking up my mother.” She twisted her head to try to see her back. “How bad is it?”
“As bad as it feels, I should think.”
She grabbed a poster of the bed for support. “I need you to boil some water and fetch me some mistberry leaves, they prevent infection.”
She was about to tell him where to find mistberries, but, to her surprise, he had fresh leaves in his armoire. John set a pot of water above the fire and put the healing leaves in as well as some rags.
Rose sat on the edge of the bed, and he settled behind her to remove the thorns still embedded in her flesh.
“Didn’t you know about the Mage’s defensive rosebushes?” he asked.
“I did.” She winced. “I usually climb the east wall, but— ow!”
“Sorry.”
“But for the first time in his life, the guard there wasn’t asleep on the job.”
“Ah. Yes. That would be because of me… I had a feeling you’d be back on the full moon.”
“It’s the best moment to pick herbs. I should’ve come back another day, but the full moon makes one a little reckless.”
He removed the last thorn, and Rose's shoulders relaxed. The next step was cleaning the wounds. He took the pot off the fire and set it down on the stone floor to cool. After a moment, he returned to Rose with a rag.
“I need you to…” He cleared his throat and tugged lightly on her sleeve.
He needed access to her injuries without the dirty fabric in the way.
Rose blushed and loosened the ribbon around the collar, pulling it wide enough to slide over her arms and down to her waist, careful to keep her chest covered.
John averted his eyes, but it was hard to ignore what was happening.
With a gentleness that surprised her, John cleaned the blood off her skin and patted the cuts. Rivulets slid down her back and dampened her nightgown.
They remained silent, only night sounds filled the room: the crackling fire, a hooting owl and chirping crickets.
He brushed her hair aside, and she felt his breath on the nape of her neck. A shiver ran down her spine.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
He changed rag and started from the top of her back again. With each brush of his fingertips, her heart beat faster. He was the captain of the Duke’s army, she shouldn’t let her guards down around him, yet she felt so pliant in his hands.
“There, all done.”
Rose tried to hide her relief. “Thank you, Captain. I should go now.”
“I have dew jelly,” he said.
He brought a small pot for the armoire, and Rose swallowed thickly as she realized he would touch her again, but she couldn’t refuse. The dew jelly was wonderfully cool and soothing, it had a light anesthetic effect that made her skin tingle.
“How do you know about dew jelly?” she asked to distract herself from the sensations coursing through her skin.
“My mother was a healer, too. She taught me a few things. It comes in handy on the battlefield.”
John dabbed a drop of jelly over each cut, going slowly so the task wouldn’t end too soon. Something about taking care of her, fed his soul in a way he hadn’t realized he missed. He mended her wounds, and she soothed him in return.
When he finished, Rose looked at him over her shoulder. For the first time since entering the hut, their eyes met, and they saw each other in the fire light. It was hard to think about anything but how beautiful and brave she was. She’d said the full moon made people reckless, and he was about to prove her right. He leaned over, just slow enough to give Rose a chance to stop him, and he kissed her shoulder.
Rose gasped at the reverence in his action, the lowered eyelashes, the light, lingering press of his lips.
“Keep going,” she said with a teasing smile.
He brushed her hair aside and kissed her neck. She tilted her head with a sigh, and he trailed kisses up to her jaw. Emboldened by her acceptance, he placed a finger under her chin and guided her mouth to his. His whole being thrummed with an energy that could only be blamed on astral bodies. Her lips parted for him, giving as good as she got. It was intoxicating. He needed more, but he was still at her back and mindful of her injuries.
When they broke the kiss, Rose’s eyes were hooded and dark, her lips swollen red. She stood up and let her nightgown fall off her body. John’s jaw dropped.
“Like I said, the full moon makes one a little reckless.”
“What else will you blame on the moon?” he asked.
She pushed lightly on his shoulder and he fell on his back on the bed. Rose straddled him and guided his strong, yet gentle, hand between her thighs.
“This,” she whispered.
—
When John woke up the next morning, Rose was gone and the Mage was furious about the ransacking of his garden. He smiled knowing his little thief would be back next month.
#Thank you this was so fun to write!#ficandchips#Nine x Rose#September prompts#lostinfic writes stuff
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Y/N part 1 - Dysphoria ch. 5
pairing: Yoongi x Reader, OT7 x Reader (platonic)
summary: Y/N has an accident at a Halloween party that sends her further down the wrong path.
notes: Occasionally I'll make some grammatical errors on purpose for emotional emphasis so that's why. Also sorry this took so long I'm kinda going through some stuff right now.
word count: 16.9k
warnings: language, drugs, self harm, mental hospitalization, shitty parents, near drowning, anxiety attack, overdose, hospitalization, miscarriage, sedation
“Do you know why you’re here, Y/N?”
“Spare me. I’ve done this before.”
“I know you have. I’m simply asking if you understand that you need this.”
“I don’t.”
“You don’t understand?”
“No, I mean that I don’t need this.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because I’ve already accepted that this is how I feel, and how I’ll keep feeling ‘til I die. No amount of talking it out and coping skills will change that.”
“Well, that’s not a very healthy way to look at it.”
“Yeah, no shit, but it works for me and I’d appreciate it if people didn’t waste their time trying to fix me so they can feel better about themselves.”
“I understand.”
“Obviously, you don’t. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”
“I do. I’m not here to tell you what you're doing wrong. I’m here to figure out how and why you got to where you are.”
“What, you gonna pick apart my life and tell me where everything went wrong?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then what?”
“Well first, I’d like to go back and discuss your experience at St. Joseph’s.”
“I don’t really feel like talking about that.”
“Y/N, these sessions are mandatory. No matter how much you resist, we’re still stuck here, so you might as well take advantage of the time we still have.”
“…”
“Or, we could just here in silen-”
“Fine. Anything but that.”
~~~
8TH GRADE
The cold classroom was silent except for the steady tick of the clock on the wall. It was only third hour and Y/N already wanted to jump out a window. She’d long finished her classwork and homework, so she buried herself in her sketchbook. Drawing was always her safe place. She found it meditative being able to just turn off her brain and let the pencil map out her mind.
Everyone jumped a little when the intercom released its usual loud beep. “I need to see Y/N L/N in the office.” Her stomach fluttered at the chance to get out of class. “And tell her to bring her things.” She halted. What? She didn’t have any appointments that she knew of, and her parents weren’t the type to check her out for minor things. Her head pounded while she stuffed everything in her backpack with everyone, including her teacher, watching her.
Backpack slung over one shoulder, she made her way down the bland cream and blue hallway that she’d spent the last three miserable years in. Jimin was her best friend all through elementary school, but he switched to a private school, leaving her to fend for herself in a new school of unfamiliar faces. He didn’t want to leave her, but the school she was going to didn’t have a dance department, and his mom had convinced him to go. By the time she found out that the school in question had the best arts program in the district, it was too late. There was no way her parents could afford to send her there anyway.
She’d be lying if she said she was happy he was pursuing his dream. Making friends wasn’t an easy task, Jimin was always the one that did the talking. So she settled for whoever cared enough to give her the time of day. There was only one person she was actually close enough with to hang out outside of school, Abigail. To say she was the dominant one in their relationship would be an understatement. Whatever Abi said, went. Whatever Abi wanted, she got. Whatever she wanted to do, Y/N was dragged along whether she liked it or not. She didn’t mind that much. It was better than no one.
The office door came into view, and she ran over every possible circumstance in her head before opening it. Her parents stood by the front desk. Her dad was clutching her mom’s trembling hand. “Mom? Dad? What’s going on? Did somebody die??”
“No, everything’s fine. We’ll explain on the way.” Her dad took it upon himself to answer.
“Uh...o-kay?”
The second her dad pulled the car onto the road, her mom turned around to face her. “I don’t really know how to start this, so I’m just going to say it. I was cleaning your room last week and found something.”
“What?” She pulled an old DVD case from the glove box and set it in Y/N’s lap. Every single defense mechanism in her body went off at once as she gawked at the image of a black bobbed Uma Thurman laying on a bed with racey magazines, puffing on a cigarette. Her favorite movie. But she knew it wasn’t the inappropriate film that her parents were concerned about. She slid the plastic sheath off to reveal-. They weren’t there.
“Looking for these?” Her mom held up her palm stacked with the razor blades she’d tucked behind the cover. Y/N’s face turned a sickly white, her mouth opening and closing to think of something to say. Her mind was moving so fast her words couldn’t keep up. She had nothing.
“Really? You have nothing to say for yourself?” She subconsciously pulled down her sweater sleeves. Her mom snatched her wrist and yanked the knit fabric back. “How could you do this to yourself?” She turned her arm to make her look at the pale pink and red lines that peppered all the way up her arm. “This is going to stay on you forever. What do you expect people to think when summer comes?”
Y/N dropped her head against the headrest and squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. Of all the scenarios she thought of, this wasn't one of them. This had to be a dream. It had to be. She tried to pull her arm away and her mom let go, letting it fall to her side. She turned to her dad with a look that screamed, Say something! He simply shook his head in disappointment.
The car was silent for a long time before she finally mustered the strength to open her mouth. “W-where are we going...?”
“A Catholic youth center.”
“A youth center?”
“Yes. They offer great adolescent counseling.”
“But I don't want to.” She crossed her arms defensively.
“Y/N, we just want to get you help, but we can’t do this on our own.” Her dad finally spoke up.
“It’s a nice place. Sister Adrianne from church volunteers there.” Her mom added.
They turned into the parking lot of an old fashioned brick building decorated with stained glass and white molding. She could smell the Catholicism from here. A black suit, white collared man was waiting for them at the entrance once they’d found a parking space. His wire rimmed glasses caught the late morning sun, shining it right in Y/N’s eyes. That alone was enough to make her scowl. “Hello, I’m Father McCarthy, you must be the L/Ns.” Her parents exchanged pleasantries with him before he led them into the lobby.
Sitting smack dab in the middle of the room was a marble statue of St. Joseph, patron saint of children. Y/N scoffed to herself. She hated this place already. The priest spun on his heels to face the family. “If you don’t mind, I was hoping to have a word with Miss Y/N before the tour.” They looked at each other, shrugged, and nudged the poor girl out to him. “It won’t take but a minute.” He said before cupping her shoulder and steering her through the lobby to a set of backdoors.
Outside was a meditation garden that spanned farther than she could see. Cobblestone paths twisted and turned around rose bushes and vines of ivy. The steady flow of the fountain at the center gave the air a calming ambience. Y/N was anything but calm. “Why are we here?”
“I thought maybe a look at the garden would suit your nerves.” He caught her confused stare and laughed lightly. “Your mask is thick, strong, but I can see deeper than most.”
“I appreciate the effort, but it takes more than some pretty flowers to make me feel better. Are we done?” He sighed and checked his watch.
“I suppose. Right this way.” He placed a guiding hand on her back and steered them to the path out of the garden and inside. Her stride slowed when she saw her parents standing in the lobby, a suitcase in her dad’s hand. Her suitcase. A man in white scrubs took it from him and carried it in the other direction. Everything clicked.
¨No…” She breathed, her head mindlessly shaking. She stepped back and bumped into something firm and whipped around. Another man in the same white uniform towered over her. His face was gentle but his jacked body told a completely different story. His hand clamped onto her bicep. “No, no, no, nonoNONO!” She frantically looked to her parents, who were standing at the exit with pain stricken faces. Her mom buried her head into him while she heard her daughter being dragged away kicking and screaming by two nurses. She’d never forget the final words she caught before she disappeared behind a set of swinging doors.
“I’LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!”
~~~
“Did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Did you ever forgive your parents?”
“I tried, but she ruined it.”
“How?”
~~~
Y/N followed her screaming, cussing mom through the house as she took trips from her room to the porch, tossing her belongings out onto the lawn.
She’d found her stash.
“Mom! Stop it! This is childish!” she stopped in her tracks and whipped around to face her daughter.
“CHILDISH?!” She took an aggressive step forward. “I’LL TELL YOU WHAT”S CHILDISH! STEALING FROM YOUR OWN PARENTS TO BY DRUGS!” Y/N threw her hands into her hair and tugged at her scalp.
“It’s just weed! And I bought it with my own money! It’s not like I’m doing crack!” She looked to her dad sitting in his chair in the corner of the living room, observing the whole debacle. “Dad? Help?” He gave her a look of surrender. Not my call. Her mom disappeared back into her room.
“IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOU’RE DOING!” Her mom shouted as she threw another handful of clothes out the door. “AFTER ALL THE MONEY WE SPENT ON YOU AND YOU GO AND BUY DRUGS?! IT’S LIKE YOU CHOOSE TO BE MISERABLE!” Y/N pounded across the floorboards and got nose to nose with her.
“OH, I’M SO SORRY YOU HAD TO PAY TO THROW YOUR OWN DAUGHTER IN A PSYCH WARD BECAUSE NOT HAVING A NORMAL KID WAS TOO HARD FOR YOU! AND I’M SORRY YOUR HUSBAND WAS TOO PUSSY TO STOP YOU! AND YOU KNOW WHAT’S MAKING ME MISERABLE?! YOU!”
“THEN GET THE FUCK OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!” Her mom shoved her by the shoulders into the wall.
“FINE!” Y/N stomped to her room and grabbed her backpack, stuffing in as many necessities as she could. She threw it over her shoulder and blew past her still fuming (and still cussing) mom. “Good fucking riddance!” she shouted over her shoulder. She swiped her car keys from the bowl and slammed the front door behind her so hard she heard a line of books topple to the floor inside. The lock on the door clicked and the curtains at the front of the house were hastily drawn.
She lividly gathered her clothes and suitcase strewn about the grass and crammed them into her shitty grey Corolla wherever they could fit. She dropped into the driver's seat and ripped the car out of the driveway and down the dimly lit street.
She crashed at Jimin’s for a bit while she looked for a place. Abi was long gone by then. Back when she was at St. Joseph’s, she’d called Abi for comfort, but what she didn’t know was that she happened to be at a sleepover, and that she’d put her on speaker. It didn’t take long for Y/N to hear a muffled giggle from the other end, and it was safe to say their friendship died the second she slammed the hospital phone receiver back onto its hook.
She didn’t need her anymore. Not with Jimin coming back for high school. He begged his mom to let him go to public school so he could be with Y/N again. What managed to convince her was the impressive dance team the school boasted.
Within the first week away from home, a packet of government documents for her emancipation arrived in her parents’ mail. She was surprised to receive a phone call from her attorney the next day, saying he already received the pettily signed forms and that they’d been filed with the district court. That was it. In a few months, she would be legally on her own. Sixteen years old and on her own.
~~~
“Good. That was good. I know that wasn’t the easiest thing to say, just know that it’s a step in the right direction.”
“Whatever. Are we done?”
“I suppose.”
~~~
Y/N sat on Yoongi’s lap while she painted his hairline into a V and thickened his sideburns into a more boxy shape. His hair was slicked back and he sported a suit and bolo tie. It didn’t take much to convince him to dress as Vincent and Mia from Pulp Fiction for Halloween. She bit the inside of her red painted lips while she cleaned up the edges of his widow’s peak with a steady hand.
It was a lot weirder than Yoongi expected to see her in a wig. The silky black bob made it feel like a complete stranger was parked on his thighs. Her unbuttoned white blouse and wide-bottomed slacks the complete opposite of her usual style. The only thing about her that was the same as he always loved were her eyes. He admired the e/c orbs that flicked back and forth in concentration, oblivious of his gaze.
“I think I’m done.” She leaned back and moved his face side to side to make sure his sideburns were even. “Yeah, you're good to go.” She gave his cheek two solid pats and climbed off his lap to get her shoes. He stood from her bed and checked himself out in her full length mirror. His hair had grown out quite a bit. Long enough to brush the back of his neck when he turned his head. He didn’t think he’d like how he looked with this hair, but it was quickly growing on him.
Y/N came up from behind and wrapped her arms around his torso. She peaked her head around his shoulder to admire his look put together. “If I didn’t know a better word, I’d say you look hot right now.” He caught her eye in the mirror with a smirk as he smoothed back his hair once last time.
“I think,” He pulled her in front of him to see her reflection, “I should be the one saying that.” He slid his hands up her shirt and adjusted the black bralette hidden underneath that had been wrinkled from her hunching over him. Her skin tingled under his large, warm hands. That asshole. He did that on purpose. He dipped his head to be even with hers. “Now, we should go before I mess up that lipstick of yours.”
~~~
Jin leaned against the kitchen counter and surveyed the frat house filled with college and high school students alike. Cobwebs stretched over every corner and fog machines gave the air a dark, heavy look. He always loved throwing his annual Halloween party. It was his favorite holiday other than his birthday. Couples cutely matching, friends coordinating costumes, comedians in gag outfits, and almost every girl wearing a sexy version of what we all dressed as kids. He loved any excuse to dress up.
He wore a loose white tunic and black slacks, his defining piece was the pink and blue diamond printed coat hanging from his shoulders. Howl from, only his favorite movie ever, Howl’s Moving Castle. He watched that shit like it was his job.
“Damn, do you need a maid? I’m not an old lady, but I can cook and clean.” He spun and met a smirking Jimin. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned, black tie loosened, hair tousled, and red lipstick marks trailed from his chest all the way to his cheeks. Jin eyed the scene with visible concern. “Relax, this is my costume. I have a little class.”
“Oh, thank God.” Jin laughed.
“Although some of these are courtesy of some lovely ladies here tonight.” He turned to show the words “KISS ME” written on his back in big letters.
“How did you even get them to agree to do that?” Jimin flashed a proud smile.
“It was easy. Girls aren’t threatened by me. Being part gay is great, you get the best of both worlds!” Jins phone buzzed in his pocket.
Thing 1: Me and Yoongi are about to pull up
Jin smiled at his screen and typed a quick response.
“Who’s Thing 2?” He turned to the younger looking over his shoulder.
“You.” Before Jimin could offer a rebuttal, Jungkook squeezed out of the crowd and nested at his side, beer in hand.
“There’s my Ponyboy!” Jimin gave him a slap on the back. Jungkook's hair was greased back with a single curl hanging on his forehead. His white t-shirt and jeans matched well with Yoongi’s leather jacket that he lended for the occasion. “Doesn’t he scream Ponyboy vibes?”
“I’ll admit it,” Jin added, “he does.” Jungkook took a sip of his beer to hide his embarrassment. He never liked being the center of attention.
The front door burst open to reveal Taehyung, clad in a full face of clown makeup, green hair, and a purple and yellow suit. “WHAT’S POPPIN’ ASS WIPES!!!” He marched inside and made a beeline to the three with Jiwoo in tow. Her skunk stripes were in pink and blue pigtails and her black and red corset top and tights hugged her slim figure. “GUESS WHO HAS A FUCKING GIRLFRIEND!” He laced his fingers with hers and lifted her arm triumphantly in the air. She hid her face bashfully with her free hand. Jimin gasped.
“Shut. Up. You're joking!” Tae flashed a boxy grin.
“No, I’m Joker.” Jiwoo slapped him in the arm.
“Yes, he’s for real.” She answered on his behalf. Jimin and Jin exchanged dramatic, wide-eyed looks and threw their arms around the new couple.
“We did it! He’s off the streets!”
“He’s off the streets!”
“I’m off the streets!”
Jiwoo watched the three jump in circles with their arms linked like a bunch of kids who were told they’re going to McDonald’s. Yeah, she made the right choice.
The front door opened again, not flying off the hinges this time, and Y/N stepped in with Yoongi flush against her back. She spotted the group in the kitchen and threw her arms up. “Heyyyyy!!!!” Taehyung turned with an ecstatic smile and bounded over, pulling her off the ground in a big bear hug.
“Y/N GUESS WHAT! GUESS WHAT! GUESS WHAT!”
“What?” she gasped under his grip. He dropped her and gripped her shoulders.
“I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!” Both Yoongi and Y/N’s faces lit up.
“WHAT?! TAE, OH MY GOD YOU'RE OFF THE STREETS!” She clapped her hands together giddily and threw her arms back around his neck.
“I KNOW! THAT’S WHAT EVERYONE ELSE SAID!”
“Okay, okay, break it up.” Yoongi pried the two children apart and steered them to the kitchen. On the way, he leaned into Tae’s ear and whispered, “I trust you, but I’ll say this anyway. You hurt her, I hurt you.” He snapped out of his scary tone when Jimin came and pulled Y/N into a hug and kissed both her cheeks.
“Ahh! You two look so hot together! Best couple costume ever!” Yoongi never minded how close they were. He knew about their brief fling before he came along, but he trusted her when she said it was all in the past.
Y/N’s excited squeal broke through his thoughts. She booked it for Jungkook to gush over his costume. “Kookie! You look so friggin’ cute!!” She played with the piece of hair hanging on his forehead and fixed a few loose strands. He smiled at his feet and fiddled with his jacket zipper. “Come on, gimme a spin!” He sheepishly did a 360 to give her a full look at his outfit.
“I’ll be damned,” Yoongi added, “you almost look better in that jacket than I do.” Jungkook hid his face behind his hands. He couldn’t control the big ass grin plastered on his face.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him all night!” Jimin cut in, fists on his hips. She squeezed past him and Jungkook to say hi to Jiwoo and Jin.
The eldest boy pulled her into a sweet hug, his coat draping partially over her back. He leaned back to catch her eye. “How are you? You doing okay?” Jin, ever the mom.
The truth was, she wasn’t. Her situation with the pills was getting out of hand. What started out as a party topper, became a full blown addiction. She hated the person she had become. If she didn’t get her fix, she’d turn into a monster, snapping at anyone and everyone if they rubbed her the wrong way.
The moment she realized she had a problem was when Jungkook tried to approach her at school on one of her bad days. She ended up punching her locker with enough force to turn heads. The cold, unsympathetic eyes of the complete stranger that took her place bore into him before storming off. Tears welled in his eyes and he was frozen in place. All he asked was if he could help.
She scared him, and she'd never forgive herself for it. Even after he did.
She put on her best convincing smile and patted Jin’s chest. “I’m fine, you shouldn’t be worrying about me.” He searched her eyes for a crack in the facade, but he saw none. A warm smile played on his lips and he gave her a kiss on the head before turning her loose. She immediately pivoted to Jiwoo, trying to change the subject.
“Now I’m no DC expert, but I’m pretty sure you two are from different movies.” She gestured to the couple. “Tae, I know you’re from the Dark Knight, but I've never seen Harley in this hot ass outfit before.” Jiwoo chuckled and shuffled in her knee length boots.
“I’m actually Harley from Arkham Knight, a video game. It’s my favorite look of hers.” Y/N gave her another up and down, nodding her head.
“It’s great ‘cus Harley wasn’t in The Dark Knight, so she could be any version she wanted.” Tae commented.
“Except Suicide Squad.” Jiwoo added.
“Except Suicide Squad.” He echoed. “That movie was a disgrace.”
“Hey,” Y/N slapped Jimin on the arm, “Is Hobi here yet? I need a little...” She tapped the side of her nose. He giggled and pointed to the loft on the second floor.
“He was up there last I saw him. Have at it.” She made her way back to Yoongi and went on her tiptoes to give him a quick peck.
“Go ahead and make yourself a drink. I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” She said seductively in her best Mia Wallace voice. Her index and middle fingers walked up his chest and dragged across his shoulder as she walked past him.
The loft was surprisingly hard to get to being that it was clogged with partygoers. She finally managed to squeeze through and fall to the floor, her face inches from a pair of sharp-toed dress shoes. She followed the white suit up to the face peering down at her. “The floor is no place for you, Mrs. Wallace.” A hand gripped her forearm and hoisted her to her feet with ease. At the other end of the arm holding her, was Hoseok’s beaming smile. The pointed collar of his black dress shirt was folded over the lapel of his suit.
“Saturday Night Fever?” He nodded. “Yay, now I have two John Travolta’s.” She took her arm from his hold and fixed her bangs.
“I think I might know why you’re here.” He inquired
“You would be correct, sir.” He chuckled.
“Follow me.”
He led her to a couch at the edge of the loft that overlooked the sea of costumes below. There was so much smoke in the air it was impossible to tell if it came from the fog machines or someone’s lungs. They plopped onto the cushions and he went to work cutting lines on a mirror laid on the coffee table. “So how’s life?”
“Eh, I've been better.” She let herself slip a little. Talking to Hoseok was easy. She liked being able to tell him some heavier things because he never pressed for more information. He accepted what he was given and took it in stride. She leaned forward and grabbed an almost empty bottle of cherry vodka and finished it off.
“I feel ‘ya. Soccer practice is really starting to get to me. Just gotta take it day by day, my friend.” He slid the mirror to her side and handed her a rolled up bill. “Here.”
“Thank you, good sir.” She plucked the makeshift tube from his fingers and dipped her head to sniff up the pristine white line. The feeling hit her instantly. A huge smile spread across her face and her whole body felt like it was floating among the smoke clouds.
“Good?” She couldn’t find the words, so she gave him a simple thumbs up. Their moment was cut short when Taehyung’s booming voice cut through the music and conversation.
“EVERYONE! OUR BELOVED QUARTERBACK, NAMJOON KIM, IS OFFICIALLY OFF THE MARKET!”
“WHAT?!” They shouted in unison. With a quick shared look, they scrambled down the stairs and through the cheering crowd. Taehyung was standing, red cup in hand, on the thick mantle of the fireplace at the head of the room. “Jesus fucking Christ.” She mumbled as they watched Jiwoo weave through the mob to pull him down.
“There he is!” Hoseok pointed to the head of brown hair that poked above everyone else. He pulled her along behind him, using his strength to cut through the congestion. When they broke through the wall of bodies, the entire friend group was gathered on the massive sectional couch at the center of the room. She picked the couple from the cluster and her jaw dropped.
“No fucking way. Cheyenne?!”
“Yes way.” Jimin chimed. The girl in question was perched on the arm of the couch next to Namjoon. Her amber eyes lit up when she recognized Y/N standing there.
“Y/N?!” She jumped up and crashed her body into hers with a crushing embrace. “Oh my God you grew up so much!! You’re not a little shrimp anymore!”
“I haven’t seen you since what? Fifth grade?” Cheyenne’s smile flashed white against her sepia skin. They were rather close in elementary until she moved away before middle school. She was the extrovert that found her and acted almost like a mother to her. Cheyenne was the one that cracked Y/N’s shell.
“I know, girl! We moved back and I’m going to Westview!”
“Westview?! I go to Westview!” Her eyes widened.
“What?! How come I haven’t seen you at school?” Y/N chuckled.
“I make myself very hard to spot.”
“She’s right,” Yoongi added, coming to stand beside her, “took me forever to track her down to talk to her for the first time.” He handed her a solo cup of vodka cranberry and she gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. Cheyenne’s hand flew to her chest.
“I’m gonna cry. My baby’s all glown up and she got herself a man!” She dramatically fanned her eyes. Her long false lashes almost reached her brows when she looked to the ceiling. Her box braids were twisted into space buns on either side of her head and her long, flowing white dress cinched at the waist and had a slit running up to reveal her muscular leg.
Y/N peaked over her shoulder at Namjoon. His long sleeved, tan v-neck and black vest made everything click. “Oh my god! Han Solo and Leia! That’s so fucking cute!”
“Can you guess whose idea it was?” Cheyenne cocked an eyebrow and looked over her shoulder at him, who blushed and gave a little finger wave. What a man baby. She took her seat back by him and Y/N and Yoongi sat on the couch across from them.
“So how did you guys meet?” The couple shared a humored look.
“Remember that bloody nose I said I got in P.E. a couple weeks ago?” Namjoon asked.
“Yeah?” Cheyenne proudly raised her hand.
“That was me. It was girls vs boys in dodgeball and I nailed him in the face.” Y/N would expect nothing less from her. Even in elementary, Cheyenne was the best softball player she’d ever seen. That girl had an arm like a cannon.
“She walked with me to get ice and we kinda just got to know each other along the way.”
“Awwww~” Jimin and Taehyung swooned.
“As much as I hate to break up the moment, I'm trying to get fucked up tonight.” Y/N finally said once the conversation died down. “Chey, do you,” She put her thumb and index finger to her lips and puffed on an imaginary joint, “partake?”
Cheyenne raised an eyebrow at her. She wasn’t surprised Y/N had turned to drugs. That girl had issues from the very start. “Of course I do, who the fuck do you think I am?” Smirks cracked the pair’s lips and they shared a mischievous look for the first time in a long time.
~~~
Y/N, Yoongi, Cheyenne, Namjoon and Jimin gathered on the sofa by the swimming pool filled with splashing guys and girls stripped down to their underwear. Which was insane given that it was basically November and the water was 70 degrees at most. Yoongi placed a thick blunt between his lips and flicked his Zippo lighter, casting a brief warm glow on his face. He expertly cupped his hand against the flame and got a good burn going, then snapped the lighter closed against his thigh. The blunt cherried bright orange when he took a colossal hit, letting the smoke roll out of his nose in plumes before passing it to Y/N. She gathered a thick cloud in her mouth and let it float out to inhale through her nose. The milky reverse waterfall flowed into her nostrils like a yellow tinted nebula. The THC hit her already intoxicated brain, sending her further into the couch.
Jimin took his two puffs quickly and passed it on. On her turn, Cheyenne blew a single smoke ring and ran her finger down the middle to make it a heart, sending it floating into Namjoon’s face.
“Cute.” He said sarcastically as he took the blunt from her manicured nails and drew a long hit. “I don’t know any tricks so you’re just gonna have to deal with my boring ass.”
“We’ve been dealing with your boring ass for years.” Y/N deadpanned, earning a series of laughs from the group.
The blunt made its way around the circle back to Yoongi for the third time, and it was starting to reach its end. “Have you two smoked together before?” He questioned the new couple. They looked at each other and shook their heads. “Well then,” he clapped his hands together and plucked the blunt from his lip, “it’s customary that new couples christen the relationship by shotgunning.”
“What?” Namjoon’s brows knit together in confusion.
“Come on Joon, you’ve hung around us this long and you still don’t know what shotgunning is?” Y/N spoke up. He threw his hands up in defense.
“Hey! I’ve only ever heard it mentioned. No one ever told me what it actually was!” Yoongi huffed a chuckle.
“Watch and learn.” He puffed on the blunt and trapped the smoke in his mouth. His hand went to the back of Y/N’s neck and pulled her into a kiss, slowly delivering the cloud to her lungs. They parted, and white fog poured from her lips. “Now you try.” He handed him the blunt. Namjoon pocketed a good bit in his cheeks and cupped Cheyenne’s jaw. He pressed a light kiss on her full lips, transferring the smoke to her.
“Like that?” Yoongi and Y/N gave him an approving nod with a shared smirk.
“Consider us properly christened.” Cheyenne quipped. Before anything else could be said, a guy popped out from the sliding doors leading inside.
“AYE! WE GOT JELLO SHOTS IN HERE!”
“Oh fuck yes!” Y/N lept up, not giving herself time to ride out the head-rush that blacked out her senses and made a beeline inside. Yoongi watched her stumble through the glass doors and disappear in the crowd with visible torment.
“You good?” Cheyenne’s robust voice broke through his inner turmoil.
“Yeah.” He kept his gaze on the spot he lost sight of her in, “Yeah, I’m fine.”
~~~
Six Jello shots, two shotgunned beers with Taehyung, another rip from Hoseok, and a bonus sniff of crushed oxy in the bathroom later, Y/N was completely, totally, and utterly wrecked. She had to hold onto the walls and furniture for dear life to make her way outside. It had been almost an hour since she left Yoongi, so it was about time she found him.
The pool was a little less crowded and she could see her reflection on the surface. It’s hair was wild, clothes wrinkled, lipstick faded. Stars twinkled across the ripples, drawing her gaze up to the sky. She walked along the edge of the pool as she admired the lights that dotted the heavens. Her feet stopped their ambling to match the two sets of pictures in her vision back in place. The luring abyss of the sky gave a sharp contrast to the glimmering lights. Everything in her peripheral melted into the darkness that blanketed her view, and the frigid water rushed up to meet her.
It sounded like any other splash. Yoongi didn’t think anything of it. People had been jumping in and out of the pool all night.
“Hey, wasn’t that your girlfriend?” He turned to see a random girl standing behind his seat. His brows furrowed.
“What?” She pointed behind her to the steady bubbles that rose to the surface of the water.
“She was walking on the edge and just keeled-” He rocketed out of his chair and shoved her out of the way. He stripped off his coat mid sprint and dove head first into the jarring water without a second thought.
The water blurred his vision, but he could make out Y/N’s body steadily sinking to the bottom of the pool. He kicked as hard as he could and propelled himself deeper and deeper until he could reach her. His hand gripped her fuzzy wrist and pulled her up to him. Arm around her waist, he swam towards the light with powerful strokes from his three free limbs.
They broke the surface and he swung his head side to side to rid the hair from his eyes. He hooked an elbow over the edge for support while he lugged her unconscious figure out of the water.
“What the fuck?” Taehyung stood dumbly at the sliding door looking out, joint hanging between his lips.
“Get her, get her!” Yoongi grunted. Taehyung rushed over and hooked his hands under her shoulders. With one big tug, he dragged her onto the cement. Her upper body rested in his lap while Yoongi hauled himself out of the pool and scrambled to her side. He pressed his ear to her chest, listening for a pulse in agonizing suspense. The breath he was holding exploded out of his chest when he heard the familiar beats. Taehyung held his finger under her nose.
“She’s breathing.” The adrenaline left Yoongi’s system, taking every ounce of his energy along with it. He collapsed onto his back next to her, gasping for air. The sliding door opened and closed.
“Tae? Why’d you- holy fuck!” Jiwoo came rushing to his side and looked over Y/N’s soaked frame. The black wig was long gone, leaving her h/c mane splayed on the wet cement. The water turned them into a dark mass of limp waves, dulling their natural brilliance. “What happened?!”
“Fell…” Yoongi huffed, “…didn't hear...splash.” His heaving breaths spaced out his words into incoherent fragments. By now, a few heads turned to watch the scene, but most everyone else was too drunk to notice there was even a problem. Jiwoo jumped up.
“I'll go find some towels.” She disappeared back inside and came out not long after with Jin and Jimin carrying thick, blue towels in their arms. Jin immediately dropped to his knees, wrapping it around her soaked body and hugged her to his chest like an infant.
“Is she okay?” He asked apprehensively.
“Yeah. I think so.” Taehyung answered for Yoongi, who was tweaking and on the verge of an anxiety attack. The first one in nearly two years. His heart clamped in his chest and despite the biting cold, his trembling body was drenched in sweat.
Switching to mom mode, Jin snapped his fingers at Jimin, who was staring at the scene before his wasted eyes. “Jimin, wrap Yoongi up and try to calm him down. You,” he pointed to Taehyung, “go find Jungkook. He’s the only one who’ll know if she’s actually okay.” The three, Jiwoo following Taehyung, jumped to work on their tasks.
Jimin draped the towel over his figure as best he could given he was laying flat on his back and there was no getting him to sit up. Yoongi’s eyes darted back and forth, pinballing against his peripheral in all different directions. “Yoongi? Yoongi, I need you to look at me okay?” He sandwiched his face between his hands and tried to catch his eyes. Yoongi shook his head rapidly, eyes still all over the place. “I need you to listen to me. If you can’t look at me then close your eyes.” He squeezed them shut in hopes the roaring panic in his system wouldn’t be able to find him. “I’m gonna press on your chest, and I need you to push back, okay?” He didn't show any kind of response, so Jimin went ahead. He placed both palms against his hyperventilating chest and applied a gentle pressure that compelled him to take longer breaths. “You can breathe, it's okay. Feel that pressure? That’s air filling up your chest. You’re not suffocating, you have plenty of air. You’re okay.” He repeated the affirmations like a mantra. “Deep breaths. Push against my hands for as long as you can.” His chest pressed against his hands again and again, each breath growing deeper and longer. “There you go.”
The sliding door ripped open and Taehyung had Jungkook by the elbow, all but dragging him across the ground. Jungkook yanked his arm free. “What the hell is happening?!”
“You didn’t tell him?!” Jin shouted. Jungkook’s frustration disintegrated when his eyes landed on Y/N wrapped in Jin’s arms and Jimin bent over Yoongi splayed out on the ground.
“I was in a hurry, okay?! I couldn’t think of the words!” Taehyung retorted. Jungkook pointed a shaky finger at her, flashes of a life without her sent his anxiety through the roof.
“Is...is she?”
“No, she’s not dead.” Jin answered his unasked question. “We need you to check her and see if anything’s wrong that we didn’t catch.” Thank God. He could live again.
“Why me?” A stupid question, honestly.
“Because you’re the closest thing we have to a doctor, now get your ass down there and do your thing!” Taehyung gave him an urgent nudge. Jungkook hesitantly knelt by Jin’s side. It almost felt wrong seeing her in such a vulnerable state.
“U-uh...okay. You found a good pulse, right?”
“Yeah, but you need to be the judge of that.” He swallowed hard and pressed two fingers to her neck. “Well?”
“Her pulse is fine, and from the looks of it, her brain is getting enough oxygen.” He pointed at her lips, which were coming back to a healthy peach. “If she wasn’t, her lips and fingernails would be blue.”
“Is she okay?” Yoongi’s raspy voice was barely audible over the din of the party. Jimin managed to wrap the towel around him and his breath was nearing back to normal. The occasional twitch jolted his muscles from the lingering bad high.
“Yeah, just keep her warm and she’ll be fine.” Yoongi’s head fell back against the ground in relief. “Just make sure she stays on her side all night so she doesn’t aspirate.”
“Aspirate?” Jimin inquired.
“Suffocate on her own vomit.”
“Christ. That doesn’t happen a lot does it?” Taehyung asked.
“Enough to have a word for it.”
The door slid open yet again and out came Namjoon, Cheyenne, and Hoseok. “Jiwoo told us what happened. Are you sure she’s okay?” Hoseok spoke first.
“Jungkook said she should be.” Jin replied. “I’m gonna take her home and watch her for the night. Just in case.”
“That’s probably a good idea.”
Namjoon carried Y/N in his arms to Jin’s car and laid her down in the backseat, taking care that she was propped on her side. Yoongi and Jin came to the car soon after, the latter carrying a hastily packed duffle bag.
“Yoongi, sit with her in the back and keep her from rolling over.” Jin ordered. The younger gladly climbed into the backseat and readjusted her head on his lap. Jin dropped into the driver's seat and hooked an elbow over his rolled down window. “Joon, I trust you can handle things while I’m gone. I might not live here, but it’s still my party so make sure everyone gets the fuck out by 6.” Namjoon gave him two thumbs up and headed inside when Jin started the car.
~~~
Jin slid his copy of Y/N’s house key into the lock, and the deadbolt snapped open. He pushed the door in for Yoongi, who was carrying her up the steps. The clock on the microwave read 3:45. Surprisingly early for leaving a frat party. “I’m gonna change her into some dry clothes.” Yoongi said.
“Okay, make sure you guy’s hair is dry so you don’t catch a cold.” Yoongi rolled his eyes and disappeared into her bedroom. Jin helped himself to the closet of sheets and blankets and grabbed a pillow from the bottom shelf. Once he was happy with the nest he made on the couch, he slipped in the tiny guest bathroom to wash his face, change, and take his meds. High blood pressure. His mom always said it ran in the family.
A few minutes later, he emerged in a pair of Totoro pajama pants and a grey t-shirt. He eyed the kitchen cabinet that was always stocked with ramen. Yoongi’s gonna be starving when he’s done with her. He set out a pot on the stove and grabbed three packages from the cabinet. “Hey Yoongs,” he padded to her doorway, “I’m making ramen do you want beef or-” His voice quieted when he peeked inside and saw them both in bed. He’d changed her into one of his hoodies and tied her hair in a bun. He laid behind her, arms seatbelting her to his torso, fast asleep. Without context, it was a heartwarming scene. Jin's lips formed a small smile and he eased the door shut, careful not to wake him. “Goodnight guys~”
He plopped onto the couch and plugged his phone into the charger that ran across the floor to reach the coffee table. The second his head hit the pillow he felt himself being pulled under by the current of sleep. He wondered to himself, what was going on in Y/N’s head that was so bad she nearly died just to get away from. She’d never lost control like that before. At least not bad enough for Yoongi to have a whole anxiety attack over. Whatever it was, he prayed it was nothing too horrible because he knew no matter how much he’d try to help, there was no getting anything out of her. That scared him. Hell, it terrified him not two hours ago. He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind for the time being, and let his lids droop until sleep overtook him.
~~~
NOVEMBER 9TH
“Haaaaappy Biiiirthdayyyy tooo youu~! Haaappy Birthdaaayy tooooo youuuuu~! Happy Biiirthday dear Yoongiiiiiiii~!” The birthday boy buried his face in his hands out of sheer embarrassment while the group drunkenly sang around the cake in front of him. “Happy Birthdayyy toooooo yooouuuuuuuuuu~!” A birthday party, his worst nightmare. He was never one for birthdays, his family didn’t have the money for that kind of luxury. Every year, his dad would just gift him a pack of cigarettes, grab him by the collar, and give the same drunken speech about how he needs to toughen up if he’s gonna survive in the real world. Y/N carded her fingers through his hair to get it out of his face.
“Make a wish, Yoongi.” Her gentle touch was enough to coax him back to reality. He lifted his face from his hands and studied the three joints stuck into the frosting as candles. He thought for a minute then leaned in and blew the tiny flames out in one breath. Their cheers bounced off the old, bare walls of the abandoned house. Everyone was there, even Cheyenne.
“Finally!” Taehyung and Hoseok pounced on the cake and plucked off the “candles” before ash fell on the frosting. The cake was white with colorful piping on the edges and pink flowers dotting the sides. It was obviously for a kid, which was most likely the reason Y/N and Jiwoo chose it. The room quickly filled with wispy clouds of smoke courtesy of Tae, Hobi, Jimin, and Cheyenne.
“Holy shit!” Cheyenne’s hand flew to her mouth to cover her grin and pointed at Yoongi and Y/N.
“What?” She asked.
“Yoongi’s 18 now! You guys can’t fuck!” Y/N turned bright red and hid her face behind her hands.
“2 months, 17 days and...” Yoongi checked the time on his phone, “10 hours.” He sighed. The time until her 18th birthday. She got held back a year in kindergarten after a nasty case of pneumonia. So, technically, she should’ve been a senior by now. But then she never would’ve met Jimin. Or Cheyenne for that matter.
Y/N leaned her cheek on her fist and observed the spectacle. Her natural smile slowly faded, and corners of her lips grew heavier and heavier. She could feel the curtain of despair lowering over her, suffocating the enjoyment out of the otherwise jubilant moment. The all too familiar mentality settled in her mind that she’d never be happy again, or see life as anything more than some sick joke. Not now. Not now, not now please… She tried to keep it together for everyone’s sake, but the tears were coming any second now.
Under the cover of the noise, she slipped away and into the bathroom on the other side of the house. She eased the door shut with a tiny click. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. The harder she pressed her lips together, the wetter her eyes became. She leaned against the sink, staring into the abyss of the rusty drain. Five hours. Five hours of sobriety and she was already a sobbing mess. She tried. She really did. She wanted to be sober for Yoongi’s birthday so she’d have the memories and not need to rely on pictures and stories the next day. Her and what little self preservation she had left were fighting a war against her demons. And she was losing. Five hours would soon turn to four, then three, then... She stopped from scaring herself any further.
She hurriedly fished out two Zoloft tablets from her black skinny jeans pocket. The bulge of the baggie was covered by her oversized, snow white sweater. Using her phone case to crush them and credit card to scrape the dust into a neat line, she bent down and snorted the powder in one quick sniff. Her head jerked up and she stared at the person in the mirror. Slowly but surely, her face relaxed, her smile returned, and everything felt okay again. She wiped the runny mascara from under her eyes and stepped out to return to the joyful madness.
~~~
DECEMBER
The heated architect’s office provided a welcome contrast to the biting cold outside. Y/N sat behind the receptionist desk, filing the last of a client’s paperwork so she could finally leave. Everyone else had left for the day, leaving her the task of locking everything up. After her emancipation, Jimin’s mom couldn’t have offered her a job at her office fast enough. Hell, she even offered for her to live with them permanently. The work was boring, but it paid better than any other part-time job ever would.
“Y/N!” Jimin quacked from the employee lounge down the hall. He’d tagged along after school to study for midterms with her in the downtime.
“WHAT!”
“ARE YOU DONE YET?!”
“ALMOST!” Were they yelling louder than necessary? Probably, their dynamic accepted nothing less. He popped his head around the corner, his body following suit. There wasn’t anything good to raid from the fridge, so he had nothing else to do but watch her lock up.
The phone on her desk rang, breaking the silence. “Fuck a duck! Do people not pay attention to business hours?!” She huffed aggressively and ripped the receiver off the hook. “Mijeong Park’s office, this is Y/N, how can I help you?” Her voice took a hard right to a bright, singsongy tone, and he had to bite his lip to not laugh. Hearing her speak in such a way he knew she hated brought him pure joy. On busy days it was like watching two personalities fight over their host. “Oh, I’m sorry she just left. Would you like to leave a message?” She grabbed a pen and jotted something down on a sticky note. “Uh-huh. Mhm...Alright, thank you!” She hung up and her face immediately fell back to its usual resting bitch face. She slipped on her coat and threw her messenger bag on her shoulder. “Okay, let’s go.”
~~~
The euphoric ring of the bell signaling that school was over washed over Y/N’s senses. She did it. Midterms were over. Granted, she didn’t study that hard, so she wasn’t expecting the best results. Oh well. C’est la vie. Now all she had was another week before winter break and she was home free.
Yoongi had work, Jimin had dance, Namjoon had football, Jungkook was with his family, and pretty much everyone else seemed to be busy when she texted each one to hang out. Whatever. She’d treat herself to something special.
The clock on her nightstand read 8:50 by the time Y/N stepped out of the steamy bathroom. She did everything; shave, exfoliate, lotion, face mask, hair mask. She scrunched her hair with a t-shirt until the curls were almost dry, leaving the rest of the water to soak into her roots. Yoongi’s Kendrick Lamar hoodie with the word “DAMN.” across the chest in big red letters kept her warm in the chilly apartment. She never used the heat system. It was cheaper and more comfortable to just bundle up. Her black sweatpants had the RIPNDIP cat giving the one finger salute on the side of one of the legs. There was no contest. They were her favorite pair.
The only light that filled her room was from the moon that poured through her open blinds. Long black shadows were projected over the space, giving it a strange yet aesthetically pleasing contrast. She shimmied under her bed to grab the shoe box shoved to the very back against the wall and tossed it on the bed. She climbed onto the mattress and sat legs crossed. The box was full of various paraphernalia she’d collected over the years. Digging to the very bottom, she pulled out a tiny baggie with two white tablets. They were bought a few weeks ago, but had been saved for a special occasion such as this.
She’d always been interested in trying Fentanyl. Just once. To satiate her curiosity. The pills crushed into power nicely. She cut and scraped a small line -- much smaller than the usual line of coke -- on her makeup mirror. This stuff was fifty times stronger than heroin. She wasn’t a complete idiot. Come on.
The line stared back up at her with a silent urgency. Now or never. She put the straw to her nose and snorted up the dust.
She waited.
Nothing.
She waited some more.
Still nothing.
A frustrated huff left her and she reached for her phone to cuss out the plug who had the audacity to sell her fake shit.
She reached for the phone.
The phone.
Get the phone.
Get the fucking phone.
Her mind completed the action time and time again but her body moved at a snail's pace. The last of her strength gave out and she collapsed onto the bed, only to realize, she’d been laying down the whole time. Woah.
A sedated smile spread ear to ear and a string of lazy, incoherent giggles made her diaphragm flutter. At that moment, the entire world shut the fuck up, and she was alone. Truly alone. It was just her inside her head. No depression, no anxiety, no trauma, no mommy issues. Nothing. Just her. It was like walking around in an empty mall. She had the entire world to herself. You know what would be great right now? Music.
She inched for her headphones.
Didn’t move.
She tried to focus on that singular action as hard as she could.
Didn’t move.
Okay...this isn’t really funny anymore.
She tried again.
Her muscles didn’t even flinch.
Tears pricked her eyes and her back broke into a cold sweat. Panic began to make its entrance as her eyes darted around the room for something, anything, that could help her. Her lungs struggled to replenish her oxygen leaving her chest in agony. She regressed back to the terrified, helpless little girl that she ran so far to lose.
She almost didn’t hear the knock at her door over the internal cacophony. She tried to listen for it to happen again. Maybe she was just hearing things. Sure enough, another knock split through the roaring static in her ears. Help! Please Dear God! I'm here! I’M IN HERE!
“Y/N?”
Jungkook.
Oh shit. No. No, no, no, no! Anyone but him!
“Y/N?” Every emotion that she’d freed herself from was dumped over her head like a bucket of ice water when, out of the corner of her eye, the door eased open. Jungkook’s silky head of black hair reflected the moonlight streaming through her window. He almost didn’t spot her from the glare. “Y/N? Are you okay? I felt bad that you were alone today, so I thought I’d stop by and check on you...” She made a barely audible, unintelligible sound. Attempting to raise her voice above a teensy whisper was an exercise in futility. His heart sank at her response. “Oh, you’re in the middle of something. I-I’ll just come back tomorrow.” He turned back around. Wait! No! Please don’t go! Forget what I said earlier! Help me please!
“..d-n’t g-o…” She scraped all the energy left in her body — from the top of her head to the tips of her toes — to say those two words.
Jungkook turned and stared at her stagnant figure. Wow. She must be really high. “Alright, come here.” He sat on the bed next to her and helped her sit up. Her head rested on his shoulder. His arm was the sole thing keeping her upright. He took a deep breath and thought about what he planned on telling her when he got there. He might as well practice now since she wouldn’t remember anyway.
“So uh...about me being with my family… That was a lie.”
“Mmm..?”
“I went on a date. Well, not really, but I really like her and I think she might like me too..” His cheeks blushed a little at the thought. “She’s a great friend, so if it doesn’t work out I hope we still have that.” He grew more confident with his words the more he talked about her. “I think you’d like her. She smokes weed and stuff for pain, but she does it recreationally too.” Her silence finally caught his attention after the mention of weed. He giggled a little. “Did you fall asleep?” When he turned to look down at her, she slipped past his shoulder and slumped onto the bed. The impact of the mattress didn’t stir her in the slightest. “Y/N?”
He shook her shoulder.
Nothing.
He shook harder, the familiar fear germinating in the pit of his stomach.
“Y/N?”
Nothing.
Fear festered into horror as each attempt failed. Tears blinded him while he turned her on her back and roughly patted her cheeks. “Y/N?! Y/N, wake up!” His heart dropped past his stomach and onto the floor. Her lips and fingernails had turned an unhealthy shade of indigo and her breathing was dangerously shallow. No. This wasn’t real. It had to be a nightmare. It had to be. “Please wake up!!” He couldn’t stop saying her name in hopes that it would somehow magically awaken her. Her declining state said otherwise.
“Don’t leave me!” He pulled her onto the floor and straddled her hips, pulling his phone out to dial 911 in the process. His hands lined up with one another over her heart and jumped into action pumping her heart for her.
“Just stay with me! Please!”
“Blood oxygen at 60%!”
Jungkook had to be ripped from Y/N’s body as the team of EMTs swarmed around her. One of them lifted her lid with a gloved finger and flashed a penlight in her eye.
“Pupils are constricted! I need 2mg of Narcan!”
He was shoved out of her room and forced to watch from the doorway while the first responders stuck her with needle after needle. They slipped an oxygen mask over her lifeless face. The world seemed to slow with every jagged breath he took. His eyes unfocused and his hearing grew fuzzy except for the faint sound of his hammering heart. All was quiet in the eye of the storm. Then, the air left. Every atom of oxygen was sucked from the world with no regard for his existence. He fell to his knees gripping his throat and chest, his lungs screaming for air.
“..........d!……..id!……..Hey, kid!” He was snapped back to reality when large hands pressed into his shoulders. He darted his red, watery eyes to the paramedic restraining him to the floor. “You need to calm down!” His kicking, screaming and crying had been silenced by the ringing in his ears. A sharp pinch pricked his side and before long, he stilled as a wave of serenity washed over him. It was like someone flipped his off switch.
“What… what did you give me..?”
“Just some Valium to help you relax.” He felt his body sink into the floor, being pulled further into the abyss of slumber. He fought his lids open despite their growing weight, but it was no use. They drooped closed and all the chaos and fear gave way to darkness.
The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital pierced Jungkook’s lids pulling him back into consciousness. He was stretched out on a firm sofa with a simple heart monitor clipped to his fingertip in what looked like an ICU room. The soft beeping of an EKG drew his attention to the bed next to him. He got to his feet as fast as he could with the Valium still lingering in his system and raced to Y/N’s bedside. The bittersweet excitement of getting to see her went completely sour when he took in her state. She’d never looked so frail and delicate before. Dark circles sunk in her eyes with rings of yellow on their border giving the illusion of two black eyes. Her lips were chapped and bleeding. Countless tubes and IVs protruded from her body which only stressed the severity of her condition further. Yet, despite her broken appearance, she never looked so peaceful.
“Good. You’re up.” He spun around. The voice came from a doctor standing in the doorway clipboard in hand. “I’m Dr. Lobrano, I’m the one in charge of your friend’s case.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s stable, but the stress overload caused her to slip into a coma so her body can heal itself to its full extent.” Jungkook’s face paled. “Now, I’m not saying it’s 100%, but most opioid coma patients wake up and make a full recovery. Physically, that is.”
“How long will that take?” He took in a calculating breath.
“It’s hard to say. It could take three days or three weeks. Every case is different” His heart sank for the nth time that night. He looked over his shoulder at her motionless figure under the sheets. The only thing that told she was even alive was the soft, steady beep of the EKG. He could hardly bear to look at her. It was like seeing Superman fall from the sky. She was his Superman. Whether she believed it or not didn’t matter because it was true. “I hate to bother you during such a stressful time,” he pulled a pen out of his pocket protector, “but I need you to answer a few questions about our friend over there.” He pointed the end of the pen at her.
“U-um, okay.” Dr. Lobrano took a seat in the chair facing the sofa which Jungkook had retaken his seat on. He clicked the pen against his knee and held it at the ready.
“Next of kin?”
“Her parents, but she’s emancipated.” He nodded and silently jotted something on his clipboard.
“Siblings?”
“No.” He looked up.
“Extended family?” Jungkook opened mouth to answer when he realized -- she didn’t. She had no one. From what he’d caught over the years he knew her mom was an only child and her dad’s only brother died when he was in college. No aunts, no uncles, no cousins. No one.
“Not that I can think of. No.”
“Okay...any other significant relationships? We need someone to sign off on her paperwork and consent forms in case anything happens.”
“But it won’t, right?” He clicked his pen.
“As a medical professional, I’m legally obligated to tell my patients and their loved ones the truth. And the truth is, your friend over there took an almost lethal dose of Fentanyl. And with her age and weight? I consider myself a man of science, but that’s a miracle if I ever saw one. However, just because she made it past those first critical hours doesn’t mean there’s zero risk of other complications that may arise later on.” Jungkook nodded, trying to take in the information as stoically as possible. He didn’t want the doctor to see how he really felt on the inside.
“How old are you?”
“I’m sixteen, sir.”
“Do you have anyone you can call who’s at least eighteen that can sign for her?”
“Yeah, her…boyfriend” The weight of his circumstances hit him like a bus. The thought of anyone else hadn’t even crossed his mind until now. How the hell was he supposed to tell Yoongi that the only person keeping his life together was in a coma from almost killing herself?
“Then I suggest you give him a call as soon as possible, and if you don’t have any other questions I should finish making my rounds.” He gave a distant nod and was left alone with Y/N once again. His eyes were drawn back to the subtle rise and fall of her chest. A long sigh of anguish left his lips and he buried his face in his hands.
“What am I gonna do?”
~~~
Jungkook stared at Yoongi’s contact in his phone. His thumb hovered over the call button. He knew he was about to hurt him worse than anyone ever has in his life. It was going to kill him. He forced his thumb down on the screen. The dial tone counted down the seconds before the heartbreak. It stopped after three rings.
“Hello?”
“....”
“Kook?”
“Yoongi…” His voice began to quiver, “Yoongi, something bad happened.”
~~~
Jiwoo laid in bed on her stomach with her feet swishing in the air. She held her phone to her ear with her shoulder while she painted her nails their usual black chrome. “You should listen to Never Know by Bad Omens. I bet you’d like it.”
“You think?” Taehyung’s voice came from the other end. Before she could answer, she heard Yoongi in the living room on the phone.
“Woah, woah, calm down. What happened?” Silence.
“Jiwo-?”
“Sh!” The silence stretched for a good four seconds. She jumped when Yoongi came barreling down the hall to his room like a bat out of Hell and came back out with his jacket slung over his arm. The front door opened and slammed shut. Within seconds, his car peeled out of the driveway. The roar of his engine quickly dissipated in the distance.
~~~
Jungkook bounced his knee in anticipation. It had been almost ten minutes since he called Yoongi and there was still no sign of him. He was beginning to worry something might’ve happened to him on the way when the door swung open sending the doorknob colliding into the wall. Jungkook shot up and immediately broke down in tears when he laid eyes on Yoongi’s familiar face. Yoongi rushed to catch his crumpling body and hugged his head to his chest. Jungkook sobbed like he never sobbed before. Every emotion he’d kept bottled up since the moment he found her in her room spilled out onto Yoongi’s grey hoodie.
His heart — along with every other function in his body — stopped when he saw Y/N. She’d never looked so broken and it tore at his insides to even look at her. It didn’t feel natural. It didn’t feel real. There was no way this was the girl he loved.
When Jungkook’s cries diminished to a sniffle, Yoongi gingerly took him off his chest and approached her bedside. He tentatively placed his hand over her cold one. IV needles were sunken into each of her wrists and one on the back of her hand. He drew a shuddery breath. “What-....what did she take?”
“Fentanyl.” Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut trying not to dwell on it.
“Is she gonna be okay?” He knew it was a stupid question. Of course Jungkook couldn’t answer that.
“I don’t know.” Jungkook muttered.
“Did they say when she’d wake up?” Jungkook winced at his question. He must’ve been in shock to assume she even would.
“Yoongi,” the older turned to face him, “Y/N’s in a coma.”
~~~
Yoongi and Jungkook stayed the night in the spacious ICU room with Jungkook passed out on his little couch and Yoongi pulled up a chair next to Y/N’s bedside. He stayed awake all night watching her. It wasn’t that he thought something would happen if he fell asleep, he just couldn’t bring himself to leave her. Even if he may have still physically been there.
Breaking the news to everyone the next day was hard. Hearing their reactions over the phone was harder. ICU patients were only allowed to have three visitors per day —excluding Yoongi—so he was forced to decide who would get to see her first. He decided to just go by age.
Jimin and Taehyung arrived within five minutes of getting the call. Yoongi was waiting outside her room when the two came flying down the hall. They skidded to a stop and Yoongi had to hold them back with his palms against their chests. “Hold on, hold on. You can’t see her just yet.”
“Fucking why not?!” Taehyung shouted.
“Yeah, what the hell?” Jimin added.
“The doctor said that it helps to talk to coma patients, so we’re taking turns visiting her alone. Jungkook’s in there right now.”
~~~
Jungkook sat in Yoongi’s chair beside the hospital bed. His fists balled against his knees trying to think of something to say.
“Y/N…..I’m…. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I took your pills. I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry I watched this happen and didn’t get you help.” Tears pooled in his eyes. “I’m so sorry...You're my hero Y/N….You probably don’t think so, but if I never met you...” He choked, “I don’t-...I don’t think I’d be alive right now.” His lips quivered trying to form the words. He’d never said anything like that out loud before. “You’re the only person who makes me feel like I’m not alone. I’ve never felt more loved and wanted than when I’m with you. You’re the strongest person I know. You always make sure I get all of my work done and eat right even when you can barely take care of yourself. It sounds useless, but it’s those reminders that reassure me that someone actually cares. If you go I-...I don’t know what I’m gonna do. But it’s not gonna be anything good.” He put his head down on her thigh and cried. “I need you, Y/N. I need you so much it hurts.”
~~~
The three in the hall jumped to their feet when the door finally opened, and Jungkook stepped out. His eyes and nose were puffy and red from hours of stop and start tears. Jimin pulled him into a soft hug which he gratefully accepted. “Okay Tae, you’re next.” Yoongi said. Taehyung thought for a second.
“No. Jimin should go. He’s known her longer than I have.” Yoongi looked from Taehyung to Jimin who looked up in surprise.
“That’s fine.” He said. Jimin gave Taehyung a thankful look and entered the room.
He drew a hard breath when he saw her. Her hospital gown washed away the color of her cheeks that once gave her a youthful glow. “Oh, Y/N…” He put his hand to his heart and sat down. “What happened to you?” The dark circles under her eyes popped against the blank canvas of her face. He slipped his hand under hers and rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “You can’t be doing this to yourself. You scared me. You scared us.”
He spent a long time just looking at her in silence. He couldn’t find a way to put his emotions into words. “God, you’re so gorgeous. Even when you're wearing a paper gown with bags that rival a panda’s.” He reached and twirled a piece of her hair in his fingers — something he did a lot when they relaxed together. Her usual bouncy coils laid in dull, limp waves against her shoulders. “You almost left me. You can’t do that, because you’re stuck with me. And there’s nothing you can do to change that. Wherever you go, I’ll follow, whatever you do, I’ll copy. We’re in this together, so your ass better wake up so we can fuck shit up until we’re old and grey, scaring kids on Halloween together.” He giggled, but it slowly turned to whimpers. He wiped tears from his cheeks with his sleeves. “You’re my best friend, N/N. I don’t know if I can handle it if you go.” He took a sniffly breath. “I love you, Y/N. I’ve always loved you. Even if it was in different ways, but I always have.” He sniffed and his voice cracked under the emotion. “You deserve the world, you deserve someone who loves you the way I know you should be loved. That’s why I was so happy when you met Yoongi, because I knew he was perfect for you. He worships you, Y/N, kisses the ground you walk on. And I can rest easy knowing you’re in the best possible hands. Don’t worry about me though, I’m happy loving you in any way I can.” Tears patted on the bed sheets when he leaned in to give her a lingering kiss on the cheek. “Please come back to us.”
~~~
An hour passed, and Jimin emerged from the room. “Finally! I was starting to regret giving up my turn.” Taehyung stood. Jimin and Jungkook held hands and Yoongi stripped his leather jacket off. The extra layers were starting to get to him. He looked up and saw Taehyung still standing there.
“What are you lookin’ at me for?”
“C-can I go now?” Yoongi chuckled a little.
“Of course you can.”
~~~
It took a while for Taehyung to eventually gravitate to the chair beside her. He mainly stood near the door and stared at her for the first five minutes. Another twenty went by of him just sitting in the chair with his hands clasped between his knees. “Listen uh...I’m not good at this whole sentimental thing, so if it’s true that coma patients remember what they hear, don’t judge. I know I get on your nerves a lot and tease you, but I do it ‘cus that’s just how I show love.” He looked down. “Truth is, you’re like a sister to me, Y/N. I always wanted an older sister to annoy, and when I met you it felt like I’d found my missing piece. Nobody in my life ever stays long, but you’re the one constant that I could hang on to. No matter which girl left me or friends I lost, I knew I could always count on you to be there, ready to go along with whatever I wanted.” He chuckled at the tears brimming in his eyes. “Look at this shit. You got me cryin’.” He roughly wiped his eyes with the collar of his hoodie. “Well, that’s my spiel. Wake up soon. I need somebody to roll their eyes at my jokes again.” He stood and wiped his palms on his sweats. His fingers twitched at his side as he peered down at her. Hesitantly, he leaned down and gave her a quick peck on the forehead. “Get better, sis.”
~~~
The next day was Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jin’s turn. Namjoon, unsurprisingly, got there at the exact time Yoongi texted him to. He came in carrying a to-go cup of coffee with the Starbucks logo on the sleeve. Immediately, he pulled Yoongi into a quick hug before he could protest. “Here, I know you’re not sleeping.”
“Thanks.” Yoongi took it with a small smile. Namjoon wasn’t wrong. He hadn’t slept a wink since he got there, and it was starting to show. His raven hair hung in glossy clumps and he was starting to develop his own set of dark circles. “You can go in whenever you’re ready.”
Namjoon stepped in and closed the door gently behind him. “Hey, N/N.” He sighed and took a seat in the chair that he dwarfed with his long legs. “I know you probably could care less, but I’m gonna take care of your homework for you until you get out of this. That is, if you don’t wake up by Monday. Anyway, uh, Cheyenne couldn’t make it. She’s at a tournament in Las Vegas, but she sends her love. Maybe when you wake up, you can FaceTime her. She’s really worried about you, y’know. Even if you guys haven’t seen each other for years.” He gazed at her almost as if he was waiting for her to respond. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Normally, I always know what to say, but….with you there’s just so much to be said I can’t think straight, so I thought,” he fished a small book out of his coat pocket, “I’d read you some poetry instead. I know the guys have probably talked your ear off, so it should be a nice break from it all.” He cracked open the book to one of the pages he’d marked with a sticky note. “I’ll start with this one, since I know it’s your favorite.”
Life is unpredictable,
It changes with the seasons,
Even your coldest winter,
Happens for the best of reasons,
And though it feels eternal,
Like all you’ll ever do is freeze,
I promise spring is coming,
And with it, brand new leaves.
- Erin Hanson
~~~
Hoseok was already in the hallway when Namjoon finished up. “How’d it go?” He showed him the book in his hand.
“Just some reading. She always likes that.” Hoseok gave him a nod and circled around him to take his place.
He took a seat and rested his elbows on the mattress. “Hey...God, I don’t even know how I’m supposed to do this. I’m not used to one sided conversations.” He gave a tiny chuckle. “I was a mess when I heard about your accident...I mean, Fentanyl, Y/N? Fentanyl?? I know how bad that shit’s reputation is and when I heard you ODed on it, I was certain you were dead. It took five minutes for Yoongi to calm me down and say you were alive.” He eyed all the tubes and machines she was hooked up to. “Although it doesn’t really look like it….Fuck you scared me, Y/N. Don’t you ever do that again.” He grabbed her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You hear me? You’re the only one who knows how bad my coke problem really is. In fact, no one else even knows I’m bipolar. Only you. Because you’re the only person I feel comfortable talking about it with. So please, don’t scare me like that again. I don’t expect you to come out of this clean as a whistle. Hell, I don’t even expect you to stop snorting your prescriptions. That’s why we need each other. We can work on ourselves together. I know you’ll wake up. I just know it. And I’ll be waiting with a big ass bag of all your favorite candy and movies when you do. So, you just focus on healing that body of yours and get back to us as soon as you can.” He gave her a kiss on the hand and another on her forehead. “Love ‘ya.”
~~~
Yoongi eyed the book Namjoon had set on one of the chairs lining the hall. He picked it up and leafed through it. “Hey, Joon?”
“Yeah?”
“You think I can borrow this for a bit?” He looked over to see what he was talking about.
“Yeah, of course.” Yoongi continued to flip through the pages when Hoseok stepped out and shut the door behind him. His eyes were misty and his voice was a little nasally.
“That was a lot harder than I thought it was gonna be.” He scanned the hallway. “Is Jin coming?”
“He’s coming around six after he gets off work.” Yoongi said, not looking up from the poem he was in the middle of.
“Oh, okay. Well, I have practice later so I’ll try to come visit again as soon as I can.” Hoseok gave each of them a hug and took his leave.
“I can stick around if you want, Yoongi.” Namjoon offered.
“No, no. I’m okay. There’s really not much you can do here. I’ll call you if anything comes up.” He stood again and Namjoon gave him another parting hug. “Thanks for the book, by the way.”
“No problem. I’ll see you later.”
Yoongi took his spot in the chair by Y/N’s bed and delved back into his book. As he went along, he wrote poems that reminded him of her on the hospital stationary from the bedside table. He didn’t read them aloud. He found it hard to believe that talking would actually help. His life hadn’t been fortunate enough for him to believe in anything more than cold, hard facts. He wasn’t one for talking anyway, and he knew neither was she.
He didn’t realize how much time had passed until Jin came knocking with a duffel bag in his hand. “Who’s that for?” Yoongi asked.
“You.” Jin said as he tossed it at him. He dropped the book and caught it against his chest. “Now go shower while I talk to my baby because I know you haven’t. You don’t want Y/N to wake up and have you smelling like ass.” He had him there. He stood up with a sigh and took the duffel to the connecting bathroom.
Jin turned and felt his heart sink at the sight of her. It hurt to see her like this and not be able to do anything to help. “I hope you’re feeling okay in there.” He sat on the edge of the bed by her thigh. “I can’t stay as long as I’d hoped, so I’ll have to make this quick. I know you probably don’t want me boo-hooing over you, so I’ll try to keep the tears to a minimum.” He rubbed the smooth tape securing the IV in her hand. “I’ll never forget that time I found you curled up on the floor, in the middle of your living room, so depressed you couldn't walk. I had to bathe you and tuck you in bed. I even fed you soup even though you said you could do it yourself.” He smiled softly. “I know I have to take care of you sometimes when you can’t do it yourself. And that’s okay. It’s okay to ask for help every once in a while. That’s my job. We always joke about how I’m your guys’ momma, but it’s true. You’re the reason I realized how much I want to be a dad one day. Believe me, if I could take care of you for the rest of my life I would, but I don’t think you’d care for that too much.” A small tear slipped past his guard and dripped down his cheek. “Sorry,” he wiped it away, “but you can’t blame me. I’m worried about you, Y/N. I don’t know what drove you to do this, but I know you tried your hardest to fight it.” He squeezed her hand. “I want you to know that I’m not mad, I’m not disappointed. You were trying to take your pain away. I just wish you could’ve told me how much you were suffering. Even if you want to spare me the stress and heartbreak of it all, I’d rather know you're in pain so maybe I can help you. Please don’t hide like that again. I need my little gremlin around to give me grey hairs before I hit thirty.” He leaned down and gave her a kiss on the head. “And you’re worth every single one.”
The door to the bathroom opened and Yoongi stepped out rubbing a towel over his hair. “Sorry, I tried to take as long as possible.”
“It’s fine, I need to be going anyway.” Jin stood and gave Y/N one last glance. “I’ll be waiting for you, kiddo.” He turned to Yoongi. “You gonna be okay here by yourself?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
“Have you talked to her yet?” Yoongi paused. “You should. Even if you think it doesn’t do anything, you’d be surprised what comes out.” With that, he took his jacket off the chair and closed the door behind him.
~~~
The clock read 11:50 by the time Yoongi finished his book. He set it on the bedside table with a sigh. Over a dozen notes were taped to the railing in a long line of comforting messages. It was surprising how much it helped him take his mind off the worst. But now, he had nothing to do but wait. He let out another long sigh. “I’m sorry I haven’t talked much. It’s just hard not being able to hear your voice...I figured if I tried to say anything I’d fucking lose it, but it feels like I already am.” He rested his forehead in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair. “Jesus...what am I gonna do? If you go, I don’t know what I’m gonna do to myself. It scares me...One of the nurses told me you’d be going to a better place, but I don’t care if you’re going to a better place, I need you here.” He sniffed. “And I know that’s wrong, but I need you in this shitty ass world because I can’t survive without you.” He tried to blink the brimming tears out of his eyes, but it was no use. “There’s no one else in the world I’d rather be with than you. I don’t know how you made me like this, but I don’t ever want to change. I love you. I love you so fucking much I don’t know what to do with myself. I love the little things about you the most. I love that one curl that you hate because it goes the wrong way, how you’re not afraid to eat twice as much as me, how you grab my shirt in your sleep, how you walk in the grass with a flashlight during the summer so you don’t step on any frogs.”
The steady beep of the EKG was the only response he got. “Please don’t leave me. Please? No one’s ever made me feel this good before. And if you leave...if you-...” His head sank as he tried to hold back his tears. “It’s just- It’s easier to smile with you because when I look at you, I can feel it. And I-I look at you and I-....I’m home….Please, I don’t want that to go away.”
~~~
Yoongi didn’t remember falling asleep, but he woke up with his head resting against Y/N’s hip. He blinked away his sleepiness and tried to read the clock. 6:20. He groaned. Stayed awake two nights in a row and didn’t even get so much as six hours. Despite his suspicions, he did feel a lot better having talked to her. It seemed to bring her a little closer to him in these God awful times.
She was looking better. The dark circles were fading and the color was returning to her lips. It lifted his spirits to see she was visibly healing. He called Namjoon to bring him another poetry book. The stuff was really starting to grow on him. Of all people.
Other than a visit from Jungkook, Jiwoo, and Jimin, the day was pretty uneventful. A few nurses came in to take her vitals and stretch her joints, but he wouldn’t necessarily consider that an event.
“Here’s a good one.” Yoongi leaned forward in his chair for her to hear.
I don’t think you will
Ever fully understand
How you touched my life
And made me who I am.
You are the keeper of my dreams,
The man who holds my heart,
The one I want to spend my life with,
The one with whom I will always stand.
Stand beside through thick and thin
Through all that life throws our way
Knowing that this special love we share
Will guide us each and every day.
I don’t think you could ever feel
All the love I have to give,
And I’m sure you never realize
You’ve been my will to live.
- Stephanie Schiavone
~~~
The light of dawn shone through the thin curtains that billowed in the breeze coming from the open balcony door, casting the spacious bedroom in a golden glow. Yoongi shifted under the white, linen sheets and stretched out his spine like a cat. He cracked an eye open and took in the view of Y/N’s bare back on the other side of the bed. The fabric only came up to her hips and was pulled around to her chest with her sleeping hands. Her hair swept over the entire pillow scattering her curls every which way.
He ghosted his knuckle down her spine and back up again, repeating the action until her slender shoulders stirred. She let out a small, airy groan and dug herself further into the mattress. Birds chirped in the lush trees swaying outside with the coming morning. Yoongi scooted closer until her back was flush against his chest. The heat between their skin was a welcome sensation that seemed to fill his heart with even more love. If that was possible. He slipped his arms around her waist and buried his face in the crook of her neck. She wriggled again when he started peppering her with kisses up and down her neck and cheek. He finally brought his lips to her ear. “Wake up.”
~~~
Y/N’s eyes drifted open and fluttered against the cold lights of the ICU room. She looked down at her IVs and around the room groggily. Yoongi was asleep on the edge of the bed with his head resting on his folded arms. It broke her heart to see how tired he looked. Dark bags marked his red, puffy eyes from hours of vigil. Tears welled in her eyes and her lips drew into a pained frown as the memories of her night flashed in her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut and attempted to silence her hiccups. Her head sank back into the pillow and hoped it would just swallow her whole. There was no way she’d be able to face anyone after what she did. Oh God. Jungkook. Instant guilt and shame washed over her when she realized what she put that poor boy through.
When her eyes cleared enough to see, she noticed the dozens of messages littering her bed and side table. She took one off the railing with a shaky hand. It was in Yoongi’s handwriting.
When I first met you
I remembered you
From a hundred different dreams
And there you were
For me to love
All over again
For the very first time
- Atticus
A smile crept onto her lips as she read each one.
Your eyes.
Your eyes hold everything
My soul thirsts for.
- Paul Perry
She read another.
You gave light to my soul
You helped me to be whole
I have felt love for you before
And it will be more and more,
You are mine, my dear
You are the angel from above
Who taught me how to love.
Please, forever keep me near.
- Anonymous
~~~
The feeling of his hair being carded through slowly coaxed Yoongi out of his dream. He peeked an eye open. Y/N was mindlessly playing with his hair while she intently read one of his notes. “Oh my God!” He jumped onto the bed and cupped her head in his hands as he attacked her with kisses wherever he could land them. “You’re awake! Holy shit, you’re awake!” He pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “I thought I lost you.”
“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Her hoarse voice was like music to his ears. He let himself laugh for the first time in the longest three days of his life. She looked up at him and he finally got to see those e/c eyes that he missed so much. Another wave of kisses washed over her that concluded with a final long, heated kiss on her lips.
“I’ve been waiting to be able to do that again.” She giggled and pushed against his chest.
“Get off, creepo. If the nurses saw you like this you’d get kicked out so fucking fast.”
“Oh shit,” he jumped off, “I need to tell them you’re up!” She watched in amusement as he ran out the door, then frantically popped back in.
“I’ll be right back!”
~~~
Everything that happened next flew by in a blur. She nearly suffocated under the hugs and kisses and gifts she was bombarded with. She was transferred to a standard room where she was allowed to have as many visitors as she wanted. Her entire day consisted of catching up with everyone, watching movies, and lots, and lots of Jello. Most of her IVs were removed which allowed Yoongi to curl up beside her that night.
The next evening, Jungkook was visiting her when Dr. Lobrano stepped in with his usual clipboard and pen. “Hey you two. If you don’t mind, I need to speak with Miss Y/N for a few minutes in private.”
“Oh..okay.” Jungkook reluctantly got up and left the room, stealing a glance on his way out.
“So?” She asked. The doctor folded his hands in front of him and looked down for a bit.
“I’m afraid there’s one thing about your condition that I’ve yet to mention.” She sat up straighter, her stomach churning.
“What is it?”
“When you first arrived at the ER you had major vaginal bleeding, so we did some tests...” Her heart stopped. “You were pregnant, but I’m afraid the shock of your overdose also caused you to miscarry.” It felt like she got punched in the stomach by Mike Tyson. All the air was sucked out of her lungs.
“P-pregnant..?”
“I’m sorry. I wanted to give you some time to catch up with loved ones before I informed you.” Hot tears rolled down her cheeks and her eyes darted back and forth trying to make sense of it all.
“H-how far along was I?”
“About three weeks.”
“Does...does Yoongi know?”
“I’m leaving you the choice to decide that. Once again, my deepest condolences.” He left her to process the news in privacy.
She collapsed onto the bed, her sobs coming out in hiccupy squeaks. Her hands gravitated to her stomach and tried to imagine the little being that used to be there. Three soft knocks sounded from the other side of the door. It slowly opened and Jungkook peaked his head in. “Y/N? Are you okay?” She only stared up at the ceiling. He approached her bedside. “....Y/N?” Her eyes eventually found him and filled with more tears.
“Can you hug me?” He immediately sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her up into a hug. Her shoulders quivered and she gripped desperately at his shirt.
“Hey, it's okay. It’s okay…” He stroked her hair and rested his chin on the top of her head. She cried, and cried, and cried until nothing else came out. Jungkook held her until her sobs faded, and her body leaned against his chest. He gently laid her down, taking care not to wake her up. Her peaceful face was a stark contrast to the tears that wet her cheeks and reddened her nose. Whatever the doctor told her must’ve been pretty damn bad to have her asking for a hug, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.
Y/N was still asleep when Yoongi stepped out of the shower. Moonlight that came from a small window lit his path to her bed. She stirred when he climbed in. “It’s me. Go back to sleep.” He whispered. The sheets were pulled over their bodies and she rolled onto her side with her back to him. He took the opportunity to pull her closer. His face nestled on her shoulder and he let out a long sigh of contentment. She clenched her muscles to suppress her whimpers, but it was no use. He lifted his head to look down at her. “Why are you crying? What’s wrong?” Her eyes clamped shut and a choked sob escaped her chest.
“I killed our baby.”
~~~
It took a long time for Yoongi to wrap his head around what she told him the night before. When he finally put two and two together, he immediately turned her around so she was facing his chest and pulled her in as close as he possibly could. He was absolutely distraught, but only a few silent tears of shock came out as she sobbed into his shoulder all over again.
They slept late into the afternoon until they were woken up by a beaming Jimin. “Wake up, sleepyheads! It’s your discharge day!” Yoongi scowled at the unwelcome noise and lazily swatted at him. Jimin grabbed his wrist and pulled him to sit up straight. “Come on! Don’t you wanna get out of here?”
“Gimme a minute before I punch you.” He grumbled, rubbing his eyes. Jimin circled around to Y/N’s side and played with her hair.
“Y/Naaa, wake uuuup~” She cracked an eye and glared at him. “Oh, don’t give me that look too. It’s noon, and you’re supposed to check out at two. Let's get a move on.”
They spent the better half of an hour watching TV while Yoongi packed up the duffel Jin brought him. Y/N brushed her teeth in bed and spat the toothpaste in a cup when she was done. “Here.” She handed it to Jimin who took it and rinsed it out in the sink.
There was a knock at the door and Dr. Lobrano stepped inside. “How’re we feeling today?”
“Fine, I guess.” she shrugged. “I’m just ready to go home.”
“About that. It’s come to my attention that you have a history of suicidal behavior, and while it’s not my position to judge, I also can’t rule your overdose out as a suicide attempt.”
“What?” She was dumbfounded. How could that be any of his business? “I wasn’t trying to kill myself!”
“But did you or did you not have any concern for your safety when you took that Fentanyl?” She pressed her lips into an angry thin line. She was angry because she knew he was right. She knew the risk and she did it anyway.
“What are you getting at?” Yoongi stepped in.
“According to California law, overdose victims are required to participate in a mandatory 28 days of rehabilitation. And since you’re also a danger to yourself, your treatment will have to be in a psychiatric facility.”
Y/N, Yoongi, and Jimin’s jaws dropped. There was no way he was serious. Right? Her heart beat faster, and faster, and faster with every memory of St. Joseph’s that flashed in her mind. “No….no, no, no!” She clawed at her IV and yanked it out of her hand. She threw the sheets up and made a mad dash for the door, but two male nurses stood ready to catch her. “NO! NO! NO! I’M NOT GOING BACK!” They hauled her back on the bed and tried to pin her kicking legs down. Her screams brought another team of nurses rushing in with a set of bed restraints.
“What the hell are you doing to her?!” Yoongi shouted. One of the nurses turned and put her hand to the boys’ chests.
“You two need to leave, right now.” They were shoved outside the room and forced to watch the crowd of people struggle to hold Y/N’s thrashing body to the mattress so the restraints could be slipped on. Jimin held his hands to his mouth and stared through wide, teary eyes.
“NO! NO! NO! NO! I CAN’T GO BACK! YOONGI!” It felt like someone stabbed him in the heart when she desperately called out to him. He could hear the terror in her voice.
“YOONGI!”
Pain filled his entire body and he bit the inside of his lip, visibly restraining himself from lunging forward and ripping her from the restraints that she jerked so furiously against. “YOONGI! PLEASE DON’T LET-'' A nurse sank a syringe into her hip and her legs quickly ceased their kicking. Y/N fell silent.
Yoongi stood like a statue and stared at the only half of her that he could see. “Yoongi, I-” he ripped his shoulder away when Jimin placed a hand on it and stormed away. He didn’t stop until he got all the way to his car in the parking lot. The door slammed shut behind him and he was left in silence. His forehead fell against the steering wheel and he let out a long breath.
A single whimper escaped his chest.
Then another.
And another.
Loud, hiccupy sobs wracked his whole body as he white-knuckled the leather wrapped wheel. One especially aggressive wave had him hugging himself in a bawling heap. He hadn’t cried like this since he was little, hiding in the closet from his dad’s drunken rage. It was scary how quickly he lost control, and he knew there was nothing he could do to get it back.
#bts x reader#bts angst#bts fanfic#bts fic#yoongi x reader#yoongi fic#yoongi angst#namjoon#bts seokjin#yoongi#jimin#taehyung#jungkook#bts sad
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Lessons Learned And Praise Well Earned
@lokijiro prompted: "Frigga regularly reads books to her tiny sons. One day, she realises that Loki can read, even though she hasn’t really started teaching him yet." Loki is around the equivalent of 3 years old here, and let's say Thor is somewhere between 5 and 6. Word count: 5918
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Odin eyed his eldest son. Thor was not usually one to dawdle over meals, but he was quite clearly dawdling now. Since he wasn't putting any more food on his plate, Odin assumed Thor was done with his breakfast, but instead of saying anything he was just sitting there quietly, fiddling with his spoon, as if he didn't want to call attention to himself.
"If you're finished eating, Thor," Odin said, not ungently, but very much aware of the time, "I will walk you down to your tutor." It was not far; they had set up an unused room at the opposite end of the family wing as Thor's new classroom, but Odin wished to personally introduce Thor to Master Egilson and see his son settled in before descending to the lower levels of the palace and beginning his own day's work.
Thor sighed and put his spoon down with a clank and pushed his chair back. He wasn't sure how he felt about starting formal lessons with a tutor. On the one hand, it meant he was growing up and was one step closer to being able to train as a warrior, on the other hand, he wanted to go outside and play as he usually did every morning instead of going to sit in a stuffy old room learning...well, whatever it was that he was going to be learning. He had been trying to take a cautious wait and see attitude towards it all, except every time he looked at his little brother, Loki looked so forlorn at being forced to stay behind in the nursery that Thor felt horribly like he was deserting his brother.
"I'm ready," he said resignedly, standing up without any enthusiasm whatsoever.
Odin got to his feet as well and clasped a reassuring hand on Thor's shoulder. "It's all right to be nervous on your first day," he said. "But I'm sure you'll do well."
"It's not that," said Thor. "It's just that Loki -- "
As if one cue, Loki jumped up from his place at the table, his own breakfast nearly untouched in his unhappiness. "Are you sure I can't come too?" he pleaded, looking at his father. "I'll be good; I wouldn't cause any trouble."
"Oh no, sweetheart." Frigga rose and stepped up behind him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "You're too young. But we'll have fun while Thor's gone, I promise, and it's only for a half day. He'll be back for lunchtime and then you can have the rest of the afternoon to play before dinner."
"But it's not only a half day," protested Loki. "It's a half day every day." He could feel the tears starting to gather on his eyes and his lower lip trembled. "For... forever ."
Odin's lip twitched. "Not quite." He didn't mention that Thor's half days would at some point become full days of lessons, because he could see that Loki was quite distressed enough already. "Yes, your schooling will go on until you grow up, for there are a great many things that you will need to learn as princes of this realm. But you will be able to join Thor in his studies long before that, and then it won't seem so bad, eh? But for now you have your own very important job to do, right here."
"I do?"
"Mm-hm." A few steps took him from Thor's side to Loki, and he bent and reached down, Loki immediately lifting his arms in response. Odin picked him up and settled him on his hip, looking Loki in the eyes. "I know you're going to miss Thor, but your mother was telling me just this morning how glad she was that she would still have you to keep her company while Thor went off to his lessons. And I was glad too, for I don't like to think of your mother being sad and lonely any more than I want you to be."
"Oh." Loki twisted around and looked back at his mother.
"It's true," Frigga confirmed. "I've been looking forward to the chance to spend some time alone with just you, the way I did with Thor before you were born."
"Oh," said Loki again, his brow furrowing. He hadn't thought that his mother might miss Thor, too. "So my job is to keep Mama company? So she's not lonely?"
"It is. Can I rely on you to do that?"
Loki nodded. He didn't want to think of his mother being sad, either. "Yes, Papa."
"That's my good boy," Odin said approvingly, and kissed him before handing him off into Frigga's waiting arms. "Now, Thor." He held out his hand, and Thor slipped his own smaller one into it without hesitation. "Let's not keep your tutor waiting."
Thor took a deep breath, but he did feel a little better about leaving Loki now. He squared his shoulders. "All right. I’ll see you later, Loki.”
"’Bye." Loki gave a tiny wave.
"Have a good day, my son." Frigga went over and pressed a kiss to the top of Thor's head. "Loki and I will come and get you at lunchtime; stay with your tutor until then."
“I can walk back to the nursery on my own.”
“But we might not be in the nursery. And besides, I wish to speak to your tutor this first day and I think Loki might enjoy seeing your classroom.”
“Oh. Very well.”
Frigga waited until Thor had followed his father out of the room before turning and surveying the remains of Loki's breakfast with a frown. "Hey." She jiggled him gently. "Do you think you can eat a little more of your breakfast now? And then when you're finished, we can go down to the garden."
And Loki, his throat feeling less tight than it had earlier, found that he could.
----------
Outside, without Thor to pull him away into whatever game he wanted to play, Loki stayed close by Frigga's side, following her around as she tended to the plants, a subdued and quiet little shadow. She didn't bother trying to draw him out, figuring that would come naturally after Thor returned from his lessons in the afternoon; instead she filled the silence by telling him the names of all the herbs and flowers, and what they were good for -- cooking and medicines and scenting things, teas and potions and dyes. When he roused enough to express interest in the last, she gathered enough material to make up a small dye pot, bundling it with a length of twine and placing it in her basket, figuring she would let him help dye some raw wool and then spin it into yarn for him to play with, a special project just for the two of them while Thor was at his lessons. After that, her clever little son proved he had been paying attention to what she was doing when he began pointing out spent blossoms for her to snip off with her pruning shears, his lower vantage point making it easy for him to spot all those that were closer to the ground.
“Thank you, my darling,” Frigga praised as she bent to snip another dead flower head off, tracing back its stem to where a new bud was forming and making the cut above that. Loki beamed and circled around the shrub, easily navigating the tight space that would have caught at her skirts.
“Here!”
There were three crumbly brown flower heads grouped closely together, half-hidden at the back of the shrub. As soon as Frigga had snipped them off, Loki moved to the next bush, his sharp eyes seeking out browned or drooping flowers, and Frigga had to hasten on, what was usually a leisurely stroll for her turning into an attempt to keep up with Loki’s pointing finger and expectant face as he embraced the hunt like a new game.
“Where next, Mama?” Loki asked as they reached the end of the next row, ready to scamper on ahead.
“Hold, wait a minute,” Frigga said, straightening up and stretching, her back beginning to ache from repeatedly bending over. She thought how much simpler it would be to simply let him snip the dead heads off himself. He was a careful child, far more so than Thor had been at his age, and she thought he might be able to handle a pair of pruning shears safely without hurting himself, at least on the easier to trim plants -- nothing thorny, or that had thicker, woody branches. “Loki, if I could find or have made a smaller pair of shears that would fit your hand, would you like your own pair so you can trim off the flower heads yourself?”
Loki’s face lit up. “Yes!”
“I’ll see if I can find some, then. You’ve been a very good helper to me this morning. What say we do that area under the trees and then go back inside and you can pick out some books for me to read to you?”
Loki turned and skipped backwards in front of her. “When will I get my shears?”
Frigga laughed and dropped her own into the pocket of the apron she wore to protect her clothes. “I’m not sure; I’ll ask the head gardener if they can know where I could get any small enough for you, but I really think the smith might need to make them special. Perhaps in two or three days; it depends on how busy they are. Here, turn around and watch where you’re going; I don’t want you to trip.”
It was cool and pleasant in the shade of the trees after being in the warm, bright sun, but by the time they got back to the nursery, Frigga was ready to pour herself and Loki glasses of the cold lemonade that she had sent for, and then settle herself in the comfortably cushioned window seat, a light breeze blowing in fresh around them. Loki scrambled up to sit beside her with the selection of books he had chosen and leaned into her side, looking at the pages of the picture books as she began to read. When she noticed it was time to go pick up Thor, Loki jumped down and made for the beautifully carved wooden door leading into the corridor, bouncing impatiently on his heels as she put away the books.
“Come on, Mama,” he said impatiently, and Frigga smiled as she pushed the door open and took his hand in her own.
“There, it was not so bad spending the morning with just me, was it?” She swung their arms together as they walked towards Thor’s classroom.
“No,” Loki admitted. “It was nice. Did I keep you from being sad?”
“You did indeed, my darling. Thank you.” She saw the door at the end of the hall had been propped open and released Loki’s hand, pointing. “Go on.”
Loki ran ahead and into the room, his eyes quickly finding his brother already standing next to a small desk and talking to a pleasant-looking young man. “Thor!” He threw himself at his brother.
A wide grin split Thor’s face as he caught his brother up and lifted him briefly from his feet in an exuberant hug. “Loki! I missed you!” Lowering him back down, Thor put his hands on Loki’s shoulders and turned him towards his teacher, beaming with delight. “Master Egilson, this is my brother Loki.”
“Hello, Prince Loki,” the tutor said with a smile. “Your brother has been telling me a lot about you.”
“Really?”
“Mm-hm. According to Thor, you’re the best little brother in the entire kingdom.”
Loki flushed with pleasure.
“What about me?” asked Frigga from the doorway, smiling. “Did I rate a mention?”
Master Egilson turned and bowed respectfully to her. “You did indeed, your Majesty.” He picked up a paper covered in Thor’s blocky writing from his own, larger desk and read from it. “ My mother is the queen and she is very beautiful and very kind. Everybody loves her .”
Frigga felt her own cheeks pinken. “Oh. Well, what else have you been doing all morning besides saying flattering things about your family, Thor?”
“We did reading and writing and numbers and Master Egilson told me the story about how Asgard was created.”
“I can write,” Loki informed the tutor.
“Can you?” Master Egilson smiled and fetched a clean slate, laying it on Thor’s desk along with a piece of chalk. “Do you want to show me?”
“You don’t have to -- “ Frigga began.
The tutor shook his head. “Nonsense, I would be pleased to see the skills of a future student.”
Loki climbed up onto the chair, kneeling on the seat, and picked up the chalk. The tutor wasn’t surprised to see him begin to write his name -- it was the first thing most children learned -- but instead of scrawling “Loki” in large runes over the whole of the slate, they were unexpectedly small, and neat. He saw why as Loki started a second tidy row underneath them, hesitating briefly over the cross stroke of the nauthiz rune before angling it in the correct direction and finishing up. Loki Odinson , the slate read. The youngest prince glanced up at the tutor expectantly.
“Very good,” Master Egilson said warmly, and meant it. “Your parents must be proud of you.”
“We are,” Frigga assured him, and held out her hand towards Loki. He scrambled down from the chair, looking pleased with himself, and took her hand.
“Can we go now?” asked Thor. “I’m hungry.”
“We may, and lunch should be waiting for us as soon as you wash up. Master Egilson, may I have Thor’s paper to keep?”
“Of course.” The tutor handed her Thor’s writing practice sheet, smiling and tousling Thor’s hair as he took his place at his mother’s other side. “You have good boys; Norns willing, I look forward to many years of teaching them.”
“They say mothers are prejudiced, but I quite agree with you. I couldn't wish for any better.” Frigga smiled down at her sons. “Good day, Master Egilson. Come on, boys.”
Thor chattered animatedly all through lunch, telling them all about his lessons and what he had learned of his tutor. Master Egilson had an older sister, and a young nephew and a niece on the way. His parents were bakers. He, Thor, liked him very much. After they were done eating, Frigga took up a basket of needlework and led her sons outside to the wide lawn, where Thor immediately took off running, calling to Loki to chase him. Loki shot off after him, and Frigga simply sat watching them for a while as they ran about yelling, Loki’s screams of delight just as loud as his brother’s every time that Thor turned and chased after him, Thor deliberately keeping just behind his brother for a while before speeding up and swooping Loki up in a hug that tumbled them both to the ground. When Thor had burnt off the worst of his pent-up energy from the morning, he began practicing his latest accomplishment, setting his hands to the ground and kicking his legs up into the air in a handstand, managing a few wobbly steps forwards before toppling back to the ground. Loki, of course, tried to imitate him, and Thor ceased his own efforts to help, holding Loki’s legs straight up while Loki walked forwards on his hands. Frigga heard him cheer Loki on and felt as if her heart would burst with love for both boys.
“I see the princes are in high spirits today,” a voice said from behind her.
Frigga turned and saw the Lady Gná, and smiled, gesturing to the place on the bench beside her. Lady Gná sat down gracefully.
“They are; they were kept apart from each other for the entirety of three hours this morning while Thor had his first lessons with a tutor and are still rejoicing in their reunion.”
Lady Gná laughed. “How did the lessons go?”
“Quite well, I think. Both the tutor and Thor seemed cheerful enough when I collected Thor. And I think Loki will benefit from having some time where my attention isn’t split between the two of them every day.”
“Mm.” Gná took out her own needlework from a bag hanging at her waist. “I dare say you might enjoy the break, too, or am I wrong? Meaning no disrespect, but your Thor is a boisterous one.”
Frigga laughed and finally took out her own project, although her eyes rarely left the boys for long. “You’re not wrong. Loki was such a blessing in more ways than one; I can’t imagine the handful Thor would be if he didn’t have a brother to play with. It at least gives me a chance to sit down occasionally and just keep an eye on them.” She took a few stitches in her embroidery and smiled in reminiscence. “No one was happier than Thor when Loki started walking -- and I’m sure Loki learned as early as he did because he wanted to keep up with his big brother.” She glanced up again and grinned. “And now look at them.” Both boys were, briefly, upside down at the same time, legs waving in the air.
Lady Gná laughed. “Truly we have a pair of ambitious and talented princes. Who amongst us can say we sought to learn to walk on our hands once we had mastered doing so on our feet?”
Frigga chuckled, and then gave a small exclamation as Loki overbalanced and thumped down hard onto his butt, knocking Thor over as he did so. Nonplussed, the boys righted themselves and looked towards her.
Loki ran over. “Mama, Mama, did you see me? I was standing upside down on my own!”
“I did indeed; we were both very impressed.” She ruffled his black hair. “You remember Lady Gná, don’t you? Sif’s mother?”
Thor made his best bow. “My lady.”
Loki looked around, as if to make sure the aforementioned girl wasn’t here. “Sif bit me,” he said accusingly.
Lady Gná sighed. The last time she had brought her little hellion over to play with the princes had not ended well. “I haven’t forgotten, Loki, and I am sorry. We are trying to teach her better manners, I promise you.”
“See that you do,” he said sternly, and it was so obviously a phrase that he had picked up from his father that both adults had to smother a laugh. Loki leaned against his mother’s legs, suddenly tired now that he had stopped moving.
Frigga smoothed a hand over his curls. “Ready for your nap, sweetheart?” With the disruption in their usual schedule, she’d been waiting to see when and if he looked like he needed one.
Loki frowned. He usually had a nap after lunch, but he also had usually had the whole morning to play with Thor.
“Here,” said Lady Gná briskly, rising and putting her needlework away. “Why don’t you just lie down on the bench and lay your head in your mother’s lap? Close your eyes for a few minutes and if you don’t feel sleepy, then you can get up and start playing again. I shall take a bit more of a walk while Sif is down for her own nap.”
Frigga looked up at her friend gratefully. “Thank you, Gná, and tell Sif hello from me. Come on, Loki, that sounds like a fair suggestion, doesn’t it?” She patted the space beside her, and after a moment, he climbed up and settled himself as suggested.
“Just for a few minutes,” he said.
“I’ll be here when you wake up,” Thor promised, and went in search of a stick with which to practise sword moves. Frigga began to sing softly, and her youngest was asleep in her lap before she’d finished the last verse of the song.
The days fell into a routine. In the mornings, Frigga enjoyed her time spent alone with Loki, working in the gardens or reading to him or pursuing any other paths his interests went down. He had his own specially-made gardening shears now, sized to fit his small hands, and was careful never to put them away dirty. And she’d shown him how to dye wool, and how to make a simple braid from the yarn she’d spun from it, and he had yet to grow tired of wearing the yellowy-green bracelet he’d made from it. In the afternoons the boys played together, and Loki would take a short nap, and then after dinner, they would usually spend some time at the child-sized table in the nursery where the drawing paper and other art supplies were kept, although Thor was now also using it to do small assignments for his tutor on occasion. Frigga often saw their fair and dark heads bent close together, but one night when she came over to see what they were doing, Loki quickly pulled a blank piece of paper over whatever it was he had been working on, and Thor straightened back up in his chair, a list of vocabulary words in front of him.
“Are you making a surprise picture for me?” she guessed.
“Yes,” said Loki, and looked at her expectantly until she took the hint and left them to it. She did get a picture later that night, but she couldn't see why he would have been hiding it; it was fairly similar to his usual offerings, though no less cherished and saved for that. But since whatever was absorbing her boys' interest was giving her an hour or so of peace and quiet every evening, she was perfectly willing to leave them to it.
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"Always be polite to a bilgesnipe, there’s really no call to be rude; Always be polite to a bilgesnipe, and he might not decide that you’re food!"
Frigga gave a little "rawr!" in Loki's ear as she read to him from one of his favourite picture books -- the words and pictures silly enough to delight a small child while still conveying the importance of good manners -- and he giggled from his position in her lap, where he was curled up quite happily. A few weeks into Thor’s new schedule of morning lessons, Loki now sent him off quite cheerfully in the mornings, seeming to enjoy the time alone with Frigga as much as she did, seeing her little boy open up about all the things he was interested in now that he didn’t have to wait for a chance to be heard amidst Thor’s chatter. And he obviously relished being able to choose more than one book everyday for storytime, more than content to sit still and listen long after Thor would have gotten restless and begun interrupting with commentary or jumping up to enact out exciting portions of the stories that he’d chosen.
Frigga turned the page and kept reading until she got to her favourite set of pages in the entire book, the illustrations showing a larger boy boosting a smaller one up so that he could reach the plums hanging from a low tree branch. What made the pictures especially endearing to her was the fact that Thor, years ago, had very carefully coloured in the smaller boy's hair -- originally fair like his own -- so that it matched the black of his new little brother's.
"Always be nice to your brother, remember to say 'thank you' and 'please', and if you are nice to your brother, he'll help you pluck fruit from the trees!"
"'Might help'" corrected Loki, pointing at the page. "You left out a word."
Frigga looked at him in surprise. His finger had hovered directly above the word "might".
"You're right," she said. "So I did." Thoughtfully, she turned the page. "Can you read this one?" she asked.
He could, not perfectly, hesitating on some of the bigger words, but he was undoubtedly reading. Frigga hugged him tightly when he had finished reading the rest of the book, Frigga helping out whenever he stumbled on a word. "I am so proud of you! When did you -- " Yes, he had been pointing at and asking about some of the words in the books lately, but -- “Oh! You and Thor, in the evenings! Has he been helping you with reading?”
Loki nodded. “The more I learn now, the less I’ll have to catch up on when I start lessons. So Thor and I can study together.” His chin jutted out with determination, and Frigga’s heart melted as she hugged him again, already planning to do the same to Thor as soon as she saw him next. It was the walking all over again, Loki not wanting to be left behind, and Thor doing everything that he could to make sure that didn’t happen.
“Well, you have made a very good start of it, and now that I know you’re ready to learn to read, I’ll help you with it every day, too.” Her eyes sparkled. "Shall we practice a bit, and surprise your father tonight?"
Loki's face lit up with pleasure at the thought. "Yes, please."
----------
“Papa!”
“Papa!”
Two small bodies ran at Odin as he entered the family quarters and collided with his legs. He leaned down to hug his sons, the cares of the day slipping from his shoulders in the face of the boys’ happiness in seeing him. It was always one of the best parts of his day.
“Hello, boys. Did you have a good day?” He straightened up and ran a smoothing hand over each boy’s hair.
“Yes, Papa,” they chorused.
Odin looked at them closely, Their smiles seemed even brighter than usual, a certain simmering of excitement under the surface suggesting that they had something to tell him. “Well, let me freshen up and you can tell me all about it at dinner.”
However, once they were all gathered around the table in their private dining room and tucking into a delicious meal, Odin began to wonder if he’d been mistaken when nothing unusual was mentioned when they shared what they’d been doing during the day. That is, until the boys finished eating ahead of everyone else and didn’t ask to be excused, merely sitting and waiting and watching him. Odin took his time enjoying his dessert, once more sure that something was going on as Loki began to fidget in his chair. But it wasn’t until he leaned back in his chair with a contented sigh that Loki looked at his mother hopefully.
“Now, Mama?”
Frigga smiled. "Yes, now."
Loki jumped down from his chair. "Would you like me to read you a story, Papa?" he asked, nearly bouncing with excitement.
"Don't you mean you want me to read you one?" Odin asked.
“No, I’m going to read it to you,” Loki said firmly.
“Ah, very well, then,” Odin said indulgently, thinking that Loki was simply going to recite it as best as he could from memory; Norns knew he was pretty sure he had the entirety of some of the boys’ most favoured books stuck in his own head. “Shall we adjourn to the nursery, then?” He got up and Thor immediately jumped up as well, Frigga rising more gracefully with one of her cryptic smiles on her face and taking his arm when he offered it.
“Papa, does “adjourn” simply mean “to go”?” Thor asked. He knew its general meaning from what Master Egilson called the context of a sentence, but he was learning to pay more attention to the specific meanings of words.
“It means, in this case, that we are moving from one place to another. It can also be used to indicate the stopping of a meeting to be resumed later, for instance “the meeting is adjourned until after lunch”.”
“That’s how Master Egilson used it the other day,” said Thor thoughtfully. “He said classes were adjourned till the morrow.” He liked the sound of the word; it sounded grown-up and important.
Odin nodded, Loki ducking under his arm as he pushed open the heavy door into the hallway and dashing ahead to wait impatiently by the nursery door. “That is a correct usage. Go see if you can help your brother.” He watched as Thor and Loki both put their hands to the nursery door and leaned in, managing to push it open between the two of them. Loki ran to get his book and Odin went to sit down in his usual chair facing the hearth, Frigga taking the other. Thor plopped down on the rug in between them and picked up one of the three dimensional puzzles from the basket on the hearth, fiddling with it.
Loki came back with his book and Odin took it, setting it down next to him before leaning over to help lift Loki up onto his lap. Loki squirmed around for a moment until he was tucked comfortably in the crook of Odin’s arm and held out his hands.
“Ready.”
Odin gave the book to him and Loki opened it and began to read. And Odin’s eye widened as he realised that Loki was indeed reading it, no doubt helped by the familiarity of the verses, but not missing a single word on any of the pages. Occasionally he paused, but never for long, and Odin looked from the book to the expression of concentration on Loki’s face to Frigga, whose cryptic smile had given way to one beaming with pride. Even Thor, sitting at his feet and listening, grinned up at Odin when Loki finished the book in triumph.
"Loki can read!" Thor announced needlessly. "Did he surprise you?"
"He did indeed." He looked back down at Loki, who was gazing up at him expectantly. "That was very well done, Loki; I am most impressed. I didn't even know that your mother had started teaching you to read yet."
"I hadn't," said Frigga dryly. "He partly picked it up all by himself, just following along when I read and asking the occasional question -- and partly because Thor has been helping him ever since he started his own lessons, because Loki doesn’t want to waste any time catching up once he’s allowed to join him.”
Odin looked from one son to another in amazement. Mine, he thought with a fierce surge of pride. My boys. He spared a second to think scornfully of Laufey, and what a fool he had been to so casually throw away the great gift he had been given in Loki. His now, though, and he would make sure that Loki’s intellect and talents were nurtured instead of wasted.
“I am so proud of both of you,” he said warmly. “You, Thor, for helping your brother, and you, Loki, for learning to read so early! My clever, clever boy." Giving him an extra tight squeeze, Odin kissed the top of Loki's head and saw the tips of Loki’s ears redden in shy pleasure at the praise, but he was grinning as he gave a little wriggle of delight in Odin’s lap. Odin decided to tease him a little. "Does this mean that you won't need me to read you any more stories now, though?"
"No! I like it when you read them to me too," Loki hastily assured him.
Odin’s eye twinkled. "Very well then. Why don't you pick out another one and I'll read it to you and Thor this time."
"I'll get one!" Thor jumped up and raced over to the low bookshelves that held their books. "Is this one all right, Brother?" He pulled one out and held it up for Loki to see.
Loki nodded, too content with his position in his father's lap to get down and pick out another. He drew his legs up and turned so he could lay his head against his father’s chest, Odin’s arm tightening around him and holding him secure. Thor came back and offered the book he’d chosen to his father and leaned comfortably against the side of his chair, folding his arms atop the chair’s leather-padded arm and resting his chin atop them.
“I Want To Be A Warrior,” Odin read. The book’s cover showed a young boy looking up at a man clad in the armour of the Einherjar. The book spoke of what it meant to be a warrior, to swear oneself to the defense of the kingdom, and went on to describe all the things a boy training to be a warrior would learn as they grew to manhood. Thor had already memorised what all the different pieces of armour and the different types of weapons were called with all of the single-minded focus that a young child could turn on something that they were deeply interested in.
“I want to be a warrior,” Odin read. “I want to serve my realm, and my king. I will fight to protect my home, and my people.”
“I must be strong ,” recited Thor. “I must be brave." His eyes were bright with fervour.
Glancing at him, Odin had no trouble imagining his son grown tall, clad in bright armour and with a sword sheathed at his side. Thor listened with rapt attention and an occasional interjection, and Odin had reached the unlabeled illustrations near the end of the book which allowed a boy to test his memory before he wondered if he should have been involving Loki more in the reading of this book. He glanced down at his son, but Loki looked contented enough snuggled against him, his head resting right over Odin’s heart and a sleepy half smile on his face. A soft smile touched Odin’s face in return as he remembered learning that trick, that an unhappy baby could be soothed by the sound of their parent’s heart, recalling all the times he had half-dozed off himself in the nursery with a sleeping babe sprawled atop his chest, afraid to move lest he wake them before he could return them to their cradle or cot. Loki especially had seemed to crave that close contact even more than Thor had, and Odin had often wondered darkly in those early days how long Loki had lain there alone in that temple before he had found him, before Loki had learned the sound of his father's heartbeat and that it meant comfort and safety and no longer being alone, even before he had learned the sound of his mother's. It still filled Odin with satisfaction that even now, with Loki happy and flush with accomplishment and the success of his surprise, that his son obviously found comfort in the sound, in his presence. He rubbed Loki’s back gently; he would miss it when his boys were no longer small enough to hold entirely within the safety of his own arms.
“Papa, turn,” Thor prompted, when he realised his father had become distracted.
“Hm? Oh, sorry.” Odin turned the page and Thor touched the illustration of a sword, moving his finger along it as he named the parts of it.
“Pommel, hilt, crossguard, tang, blade,” Thor rattled off, no doubt dreaming of the day when he would have a real sword of his own.
“Very good,” said Odin, and briefly ran his hand over Thor's silky hair as Thor moved on to enthusiastically list all the various types of polearms shown on the facing page. Glancing up, he saw Frigga watching them with the same deep contentment in her eyes that he could feel in his heart. No doubt one day both their sons would be fine, strong warriors. But for now, he liked them exactly the way they were.
#loki#thor#odin#frigga#ficwoodelf#lokijiro#marvel fic#lessons learned and praise well earned#tumblr prompt fics
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Home: chapter one
azriel x reader (acotar)
summary: (y/n) is a daughter of Persephone, still recovering from the trauma of her fall into Tartarus and doesn’t have time for a stupid, handsome, annoying, stunning, injured man. But now they’re stuck together in the middle of nowhere and there only chance of getting home is if she can heal him, and fast.
warnings: big spoilers for mark of Athena and house of Hades, also some for the acotar series, eventual smut, blood, PTSD, graphic descriptions of violence, injuries and torture, enemies to lovers so az is a bit of a dick to start, swearing
word count: 2.8k
a/n: this is the first proper fic I have written in so so so long and i’m legit nervous to post it so pls be nice, plus feedback is always appreciated. there are more parts to come, I’m not sure how many yet but i’m going to try post regularly! message me if you wanna be tagged and i’m gonna try figure out how to make a masterlist :)
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The view from your window was beautiful yet haunting. Your eyes roamed over countless wildflowers, yet your stare would linger on a poppy or a Red Admiral butterfly and you were back there. You were tied down and crying, body and brain equally numb until another searing lash stripped your back of flesh, white-hot pain rushing through your body and forcing an involuntary cry to tear from your lips.
You quickly stood, wiping your hands down your skirt in an attempt to quell the memories surfacing, the ones you had desperately tried to supress since you had fallen. You quickly moved, all but running to the bathroom, needing to do something, anything, so long as it got you out of your head. You stopped when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, looking exactly as you felt. The dark circles under your eyes from nights spent with hot tears flowing freely down your cheeks and into your hair and ears made you look ghostly, paired with the dull tone your skin had taken on, losing its natural glow. You looked as empty as you felt, a shell of the person you once were.
Tears welled in your eyes, but you quickly moved away, instead walking to the kitchen, the nausea from not eating overcoming you, yet the thought of eating just made you more nauseous. You found an apple at the bottom of a practically empty fridge and cleaned it softly, then used a blade to cut it into four, forcing it down, repeating the benefits it gave your body as you went, the basic information you had learned in your high school biology class, using the information to push through the sick feeling residing in your stomach, and instead focusing on the energy you desperately needed.
Your gaze drifted to the ajar door that led to your expansive garden, the cottage you lived in itself was small, but your garden was your pride and joy, your power sifting through all the plants in it, bringing them to life in ways of indescribable beauty, nearby animals coming to exist in harmony, safe under the care of their protector. But recently the usual vibrancy of the garden was dimming, the grass turning yellow and the plants wilting. There were no deer napping under bushes and barely any birds taking full advantage of the seed you laid out for them. You pushed past the door and into the garden, the plants brightening as you trailed your hands over their leaves. You found your favourite spot to sit in and dragged your fingers through the grass, smiling despite yourself as it visibly perked up, turning greener instantly. Your gaze trailed to a ruby throated hummingbird that had landed on the special feeder you left out for them, your breath hitching at the red colour, mind instantly returning to the dark, unable to tear your eyes away from the innocent bird.
The first thing you remember seeing was red, red water flowing like blood, red rocks beneath your bent knees, and your skin tinted red from dried blood seeping out of the wounds the chains around your wrists had inflicted on you. You sought to remember where you were, your mind drifting back to how you clung to Annabeth, your stomach aching from what must have been a broken rib, even as she was roughly pulled backwards, even as Percy desperately grabbed her, falling over the edge too, not quite reaching Nico’s shaking hand as he desperately tried to save you. You remembered been torn from their grip during the fall, a Fury hoping for a demi-god it could pick apart, you remember Annabeth screaming they would save you. But you don’t remember landing here, and you don’t remember the chains being attached to your wrists and ankles, or your shirt being removed, a choice you decided couldn’t mean anything good. However, you knew you would never forget the dark chuckle you heard behind you. Or the colour red.
--
Azriel didn’t know where he was. He knew he wasn’t in his world at least, but that was as far as his knowledge went. He was simply tired after a long mission far away from Velaris and his family and had tried to travel through the shadows to his home. Yet here he was, farther away from home than he had ever been and absolutely exhausted. He stepped out of his shadows and had to blink as the tallest buildings he had ever seen came into view. He absentmindedly took a step forward, then another until he was roughly shoved into, a man with a thick accent he couldn’t place swearing at him. His head whipping around as he got his bearings and moved to follow the direction more people than he could believe were walking until the crowd thinned out.
With less people present he slowed his pace, hands drifting to his pockets when civilians stared, old insecurities that never really left him rising to the surface, and instead took the time to admire the strange world he was in. the fashion in this new world was vastly different to his own, groups of girls congregating in tiny shorts and tight tops, next to groups in which there were girls in all black and boys in skirts. There were men and women dressed sharply talking quickly to no-one in particular, with hands pressed to their ears, there were people in rags begging for money and there were people dressed in ways he couldn’t even fathom to understand. By the time he reached the end of the street he was sure he had seen everything, and walked onto a more recognisable street, one with smaller buildings, unlike the magnificent glass structures, made from stone and wood and with friendlier faces behind stalls filled with food he recognized along with food he had never seen before.
He made his way through the market, losing track of time, the initial anxiety he felt seeping away, if he got here, he could easily return home, right? Instead, he chose to focus on the culture of this new world, determined to tell his family of the wonder he had uncovered, faintly hearing different languages from people’s conversation, and music coming from the open window of what he presumed was a coffee shop. He distantly wondered if they could see his wings, as no-one eyes lingered the way he had grown used to, in fact it seemed they couldn’t look at them, he presumed humans in this world simply had a natural glamour preventing them from seeing fae, that being said however, no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t spot another fae.
Eventually he reached the end of the street and decided he should return home now in order to stop his family from worrying, searching for a shadowed alley so as to not draw to much unwanted attention to himself. He walked to an alley that he decided would do the trick, excited to share this adventure with his family, but stopped short when he came face to face with a girl in a short skirt with incredibly pale skin and fire-like hair leaning over a passed-out man, sucking blood from his neck. She looked up when he approached and he saw that her hair was not just fire-like but literally fire, and her eyes were glowing red, and angry. More alike her then came out of the shadows, he quickly counted six, sighing as he pulled Truth-teller out of its sheath.
Shit. I am not in the mood for this.
--
You strolled through your favourite farmers market in NYC, the colours that filled the stalls always bringing some cheer back into your life, along with the thought of home-made meals and your practically overflowing basket, filled with fruit, vegetables, bread, and other necessities, but not meat, not since the animals started speaking to you when you first arrived at camp, and nothing red, you still couldn’t face that.
You made a quick stop at your favourite coffee place, opting to get your drink to go, only making polite conversation when you had to, and smiling through any other interaction. You were soon ready to leave, basket and dusty blue corduroy jacket slung over one arm, cup in that hand and your phone that the Hephaestus cabin had adapted in the other, when you heard pained grunts and the cackle of a monster you wished you could just forget already from a nearby alley.
You gave a pained sigh, looking longingly at your coffee before chugging it and throwing the cup in a nearby bin, making your way over to the alley. When you got there, you saw an unnaturally dark alley filled with a gaggle of Empousa surrounding a tall, winged man who was fighting incredibly well but clearly hadn’t gotten the celestial bronze memo, as his blade was defective.
“Long time no see ladies” you said, smirking at the growls that tore from the back of their throats as they tore around to stare at you, recognition in their horrifyingly red eyes. “What no hugs, no happy reunions?”
“You.” The middle one snarled, lunging forward, only to be cut down by the thick, green vine you had grown, intertwined with strands of celestial bronze you kept wrapped around your wrists disguised as thin, looping bracelets, and exploding into dust which you nonchalantly wiped from your shoulder.
“Whose next,” you laughed as three of them leaped at you, two staying behind and keeping the winged man, who had taken to staring at you with an unreadable expression, occupied. You destroyed them quickly enough to see the man falter as one of the Empousa force their talon like nails into his side, twisting it and pulling it out. You rolled your eyes, moving to pick up his slack, wrapping the vine around its neck and pulling until it exploded into the fine dust. The man was on the floor now, clutching his side, as you stalked forward to the final monster.
“You know I really just wanted a chill day,” you complained,
“I remember you,” it hissed, smiling at you with razor sharp teeth.
You fought a shudder and forced the memories down, “I’m glad I made an impression.”
“They want you back you know, we never got to finish playing.”
You snarled and went to move, but it was too fast, and you realised your mistake in waiting too long as it released a piercing cry that must have notified monsters from miles away, “shit,” you muttered under your breath, killing it quickly and moving to the winged man’s side.
“Hey, any chance those wings are good at flying,” you asked, “cause we’re about to be swarmed and I really just wanna get home.” You put his arm over your shoulders and dragged him up, grunting under his weight.
“I-it, poison.” Was all he said, fully leaning on you.
“Shit, okay um,” you racked your brain for an idea, furrowing your brows when you saw monsters start coming around the corner, eyeing you like their favourite toy. The man looked up from beneath his thick, dark hair before cursing and tightening his grip on your shoulder.
“Just hold on,” he said,
“What? Wait no!” you shouted, clinging to his arm as suddenly you were engulfed in darkness, only to suddenly be blinded by bright, hot light, forcing your eyes closed.
When you opened them again, you were on a sandy beach facing an impossibly blue ocean. Your mouth fell open and you turned to ask the man some questions, (or yell at him you were yet to decide) just in time to watch him collapse, falling onto the sand with a soft thud, red blood steadily flowing out of his side, the blood draining from your face at the sight.
Shit.
--
You stared down at the man in disbelief for at least two minutes. He can shadow-travel. Is he a son of Hades? Gods know I don’t need another step sibling. Also, where the fuck am I? Why a beach? Is it LA? I might marry him if it’s LA. A million thoughts raced through your head as you stared at him, guessing that the unnatural darkness you saw before must have come from the shadows you could now see were surrounding him, protecting him from the light and, when you moved closer, you. From what you could see, he was handsome, if not slightly dead looking, thick, dark hair and a lean, muscular build. Wait dead looking? You cursed jumping into action, checking his pulse, relieved when you found it, before moving to his side using the knife you kept tucked into your boot to hack through the leathers he was wearing in order to reveal the gash.
It wasn’t wide but seemed deep as it was gushing dark red blood, you blanched and screwed your eyes shut at the sight, fighting the memories of your own dark red blood. You opened your eyes purposefully not looking at the cut as you used his torn leathers to put pressure on the cut and start dragging him up the beach to an area you could grow the thin vines you would need as makeshift stitches.
--
Azriel woke to an extreme discomfort in his side, in a place he didn’t recognise. He pushed up into a sitting position, wincing at the reminder of his wound, and looked around, finding himself shirtless, surrounded by trees on a sandy floor. A girl was sitting cross-legged, staring- no- glaring at him and he felt himself return a confused expression, vaguely remembering her as the girl that had killed the monsters that he could have sworn were completely invulnerable.
“What are you?” She asked suddenly, her bluntness taking him by surprise, but before he could answer she continued, “I mean I’m presuming you’re some sort of child of Hades, given you shadow travelled, but I don’t understand what else, cause you’re defo not part human?”
“Hades?” he asked, frowning at the words he didn’t understand.
“Yeah?” she asked slowly, raising her eyebrows at him as if it was something obvious.
He scoffed, “I don’t need to tell you anything.”
“Oh, is that so? No thank you or anything? I mean it’s not like I saved your life and I mean least of all I would expect an apology.” She was rambling as she stared at him in disbelief.
“An apology?”
“Yeah, for getting me stuck here.”
“Where’s here?”
“Fuck if I know,” she threw her hands up in exasperation, “I thought you know, I’ve done enough, I’ll let him find a cure for that poison on his own, I just wanna go home, so I decided lets get my bearings. I’ll find a high place and work out where I am, only to climb to the top of a fucking mountain and realise you got us stuck on a fucking Island!”
He slowly stood, bracing himself on a tree, as she remained sat, levelling him with an unimpressed stare. He shook his head, not needing to babysit this girl, and instead shot up from the ground, flying above the island to see she was in fact correct, there didn’t seem to be land for miles.
Suddenly, a sharp shooting pain went up his right side and he lost control of his balance for a second, all but plummeting to the ground.
“Yeah you shockingly haven’t healed completely yet,” the girl said moving to his side and pushing away his maimed hands from his wound, barely even glancing at the scars, “I have some ideas as to what will cure the poison, but if you want to fly away and leave me to die here, be my guest,” every word was dripping with sarcasm and he fought back a growl at her as she inspected his wound, were he saw he had torn the peculiar, green stitches.
He watched her carefully, not fully trusting her, as she inspected his stitches, furrowing his eyebrows when she significantly paled at the sight of his blood. “What scared of a little blood,” he instantly regretted the biting words when she snarled at him and put more pressure on the wound than was necessary, feeling slightly guilty given she had saved his life, but her attitude was infuriating, and he just wanted a hot bath and food.
“Okay, so here’s what’s going to happen, I’m going to stitch you back up, and then we’re gonna find a lake or some source of fresh water, you’re going to heal extremely quickly so you can take us back home and you’re not going to give me anymore shit? Kapeesh?” The stare she gave him could’ve rivalled his own in terms of intimidation, but instead of challenging her he just nodded, setting his jaw.
“Good. Now, nice to meet you, I’m (y/n),” she said reaching out a hand,
“Azriel.” Was all he said, meeting her small, soft hands in his rough, scarred ones, the difference in texture astounding him, still not entirely used to touch, and ignored the tightness in his chest when she offered him a cocky smirk.
#azriel x reader#azriel#acotar#acomaf#acosf#acofas#rhysand#feyre#percyjackson#greek mythology#heroes of olympus
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