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just-dreaming-marvel · 3 years

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My Superhero

MAIN MASTERLIST

Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1,500ish

Summary: You and Steve’s relationship is fairly new, so you haven’t told him everything yet.

Notes: I did a Tony Stark one about chronic illness called Invisible Pain. I wanted to do a Steve Rogers one as well.

Feeling completely well on any given day was a luxury. It never really mattered what medicine, diet, or amount of essential oil you put on, your joints hurt. End of story. Of course, it wasn’t completely random. You had Rheumatoid Arthritis, so there was a reason for it. You just sometimes wished that your arthritis was located in specific joints instead of all of them.

You were currently in your apartment getting ready for your fifth date with none other than Captain America’s, Steve Rogers. He was suppose to pick you up in a little more than an hour and, yet, you still couldn’t get out of your pj’s to shower. Your shoulders were causing you excruciating pain. Trying to take your shirt off was bringing you to tears, each try more unsuccessful than the next.

You were at a loss of what to do. You had yet to inform Steve about your chronic illness due to past experiences. Every other man you had dated, or tried to, quickly left you in the dust after finding out that you would forever be sick and that it would slowly get worse with age. So you had told yourself that you would tell Steve once you were official, even though there was still a chance of heartbreak even then. You just wanted to enjoy this while it lasted.

Steve was so sweet, kind, and gentle towards you. You two had met after he accidentally walked into you about two months ago on the side walk. This was only your five date in that span of time due to the missions he was constantly being called on. Though, the two of you texted or talked on the phone whenever you could.

You were currently sitting on the edge of your bed, staring at the typed up message just waiting to be sent. At this point, canceling the date was your only option. You couldn’t change and you had already maxed out on drugs for the night. You sighed, a tear strolling down your cheek, as you pressed sent.

You: Hey, Steve :) I’m so sorry to do this to you at such late of notice, but something’s come up and I won’t be able to make it today. Sorry :( Can we reschedule?

It didn’t take long for Steve to respond.

Steve: hey doll :) is everything okay?

You: Yeah, I’m just not feeling the greatest. But I’ll be fine after some much needed rest. How does next Friday sound?

Steve: Next Friday sounds wonderful. But are you sure you’re okay? Do you need anything? I could come over and we could stay in for the night. Order food and watch one of the movies I’ve yet to catch up on.

This man was too good to you. Almost too perfect. But you were too scared. You didn’t want to lose him just yet. You were enjoying it too much to be hurt already.

You: I’ll be fine, Steve. I just need some rest. You should probably get some too. I’ll talk to you later.

He didn’t respond. You sighed, laying back on your bed, tensing at the pain in your joints. You closed your eyes, trying to will your pain away, to no avail. Apparently, you had slightly fallen asleep because when a few knocks sounded at your door, you jumped up. Immediately regretting it because of the pain that shot through your joints.

Confused, dazed, and in pain, you shuffled over to the door. You didn’t even bother checking the peep hole before opening the door. Your jaw practically dropped to the floor at the sight in front of you. There was Steve, standing there in sweatpants and sweat shirt, your favorite flowers in one hand and two boxes of pizza in the other.

“Steve?” You questioned quietly, willingly yourself to stay put instead of run away embarrassed. You knew you didn’t look your best. “What—what are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you,” he responded with a gentle smile. “Can’t have my best girl feeling unwell now, can I?”

“Steve,” you shook your head, “you really didn’t—“

“Of course I did. Now, are you going to let me in or do I have to let myself in?”

Biting your lip, you opened the door wider, letting him walk in. Steve went straight to the kitchen, setting the pizzas down on the counter.

“Do you have a vase?” He asked, looking around. “For the flowers?”

“Under the sink,” you responded. “Um… I’m going to change.” You pointed over your shoulder, immediately regretting it and grimacing.

“Y/N, is something wrong?” His concerned eyes raked over you.

“No, nothings wrong. I just need to change. I-I haven’t gotten out of these all day.”

The look in his blue eyes told you all you needed to know, he didn’t believe you. You turned around as quickly as you could. You could feel his eyes following you as you disappeared into your room. You slowly pulled down your pj pants, holding in a cry as you did. Pulling up clean sweats was easier, thankfully. It was the new shirt, you knew would be the killer.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed the hem of your shirt and tried to pull it over your head. Failing to conceal the whimpered cry that left your lips, you heard Steve’s quick footsteps stop at your door.

“Y/N?” He called outside the door. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you responded, clearly your throat. “I’m fi-fine.”

“Are you sure? Do… do you, uh, need help?”

“No! I’ll be right out.”

Steve didn’t move from his spot outside your bedroom door. In fact, he leaned in, pressing his ear to the door. He could hear you breathing deeply, like you were trying to calm down. Which concerned him. You had told him that you hadn’t been feeling well, but you looked like you were fine. So what was going on? He waited, keeping quiet at your door.

Inside, you were still trying to get your shirt off. You were riding it up, but you couldn’t get it past your breasts. You let out a louder cry, finally breaking. Steve couldn’t wait any longer, he came in to see you in tears on your bed.

“Oh, doll,” he cooed, heart breaking at the sight of you. He rushed over and sat beside you on the bed. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m… I’m so sorry, St-steve,” you cried. “I didn’t want you to find out like this… honestly, I hoped you would never find out.”

“Find out about what?”

He went to put an arm around you, to pull you into him. But when he put his hand on your shoulder, you winced and let out a small whine. His hand quickly was off your shoulder and the furrow between his brows increased.

“Y/N? What’s going on?”

“I… I… I’m sick.”

“Like, with the flu? Or… or worse?”

“I guess, you could say, something in between.” You looked at Steve to see him intently listening. “I… I have arthritis. Rheumatoid Arthritis. It’s where, well… my body is attacking its own tissue and joints. Even… even my internal organs. As I age, it will slowly get worse. Possible bone erosion and joint deformity… It’s painful, but I’ve been able to manage it. I still have good days and bad. Today… today’s—“

“A bad day. Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because all the other guys I’ve dated have left me after finding out. I… I like what we have. And I don’t want to lose it. But… but I’ll understand if this is too much for you.” You looked down at the hands resting in your lap. “It is for everyone else.”

“Y/N… can you look at me, doll?” He carefully guided your head back up. “I am so extremely sorry that others have been so stupid. They obviously don’t know what they’re missing out on. And I guess that makes me lucky, cause now I get to know you and get to fall in love with you.”

“You’re… you’re falling in love with me?”

Steve nodded. “Yes. And I would like the opportunity to keep doing so, if you’ll have me?”

“Of course. Will you… will— you still want to date me?”

“The fact that you go through life every day, trying your hardest and pushing yourself, even though you don’t have to. That only makes me fall more in love with you.” He gently cupped your cheek. “You’re a real superhero.”

You giggled. “No, I’m just—“

“My superhero. You’re my superhero.” He pressed a short kiss to your lips. “Thank you,” he whispered, “for telling me. Please know that you don’t have to hide from me. I really don’t want you to. I want to help you in any way I can.”

“Thank you, Steve.”

He gave you another kiss. “Now, how about we eat the probably cold pizza and watch anything you want?”

“I’d like that.”

I have Rheumatoid Arthritis, but I would like to remind people that everyone who has it suffers from it differently. This story is based off of my own personal pain and struggles. I go through most days pushing through the pain that is constantly there without most people realizing. And I know that I’m not the only one.

Remember, everyone is going through unseen challenges. Please be kind to everyone you interact with/come across.

Comments, likes, reblogs, and asks are always welcome!

#steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #Steve Rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #avengers imagine #captain america imagine #captain america

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royallyjoon · 4 years

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nephilim (deux)

you know where the cred goes 💙

cult au, supernatural creature au

yandere! ot7 x f! reader

warnings: yandere themes, violent behavior, manipulation

deep in the forest lies the home to the infamous, successful kim family. you steeled yourself to enter the lions’ den, where kind, masked souls surrounded you, welcoming you with open hearts and open arms. you, however, still keep your wits about you. you protect yourself by getting comfortable, but not too close. but it’s alright. put your guard up to your hearts’ content. you are their favorite past time, after all. either way, sooner or later, you will be theirs...

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The five Kim siblings couldn’t be more elated, watching the object of their eye sleep without a care in the world.

They remained quiet, speaking in whispers as they strove not to wake you up. Your guarded attitude around them had escaped no one, and they, quite frankly, found it adorable.

You were the only one who didn’t wear your emotions on your sleeve around them.

The sleek, black van turned corner after corner around the winding paths of Ichabod, passing homes, places of commerce, and office buildings.

The Kim family lived deep within the woods, not too far away from the base of the monthly gatherings. All of the other town dwellers would walk from their homes, located at various points in the city, into the twisting black woods in order to appear at the meeting on time.

For the Kims would accept nothing less than perfection.

After another twenty minutes, Driver Bin cautiously approached a narrow dirt path and he directed the car onto the incline, winding upwards on the hill. The car then veered off to the right, entering a secluded road that would lead specifically to the Kim family mansion.

It stood, raised on wooden platforms with impressive glass windows. The exterior shone in the afternoon sunlight, polished cherry wood glistening through the orange and green leaves on the forest trees.

There was no ostentatious fountain or statue outside the front of the home, nor were there piled bodies of the forsaken lying around their grounds, contrary to popular schoolyard taunts and beliefs.

Only a winding, wooden staircase that led to the front door.

The boys stared out the window, gaze breaking away from you for only a moment as they watched the approaching front gate.

A black, iron-wrought masterpiece, as well as their father’s pride and joy: the front gate worked all too well at keeping unwanted guests outside and favored guests inside of the Kim household.

Each of the brothers had grown up detesting that gate. Whether on purpose or by accident, it kept them locked up from the outside world, ostracizing them even more than they had already thought possible.

But now, as the old iron monstrosity creaked open, and as they watched their beloved sleep ever so sweetly....

Why, they wouldn’t have wished for anything other than for that gate to close once and for all, leaving you with them forever.

The metal closed with an ominous clang, and the van pulled into the home’s garage as the sun began to set.

——————————————————————

You peeled your eyes open, disoriented for just a moment before pure panic bled through.

The last thing you remembered was getting into the Kim’s car on your way to their home.

But now, you lay in a queen size, four poster bed covered with soft (f/c) sheets. The dark brown, wooden frame had beautiful gossamer, white sheets hanging down, wrapped around each end so that you could sit up without them getting in your way.

You looked down and found your school uniform still on, albeit a bit wrinkled. There was a sweater a bit too large for you wrapped around your shoulders. Your shoes were no longer on your feet, and the thought of someone taking those off for you made you flustered.

You weren’t sure how you had gotten to the room, but logic reasoned that one of the boys must have brought you in here to rest...

Your face twisted into an unreadable expression...you weren’t particularly sure how to feel about that.

You should thank them and apologize, of course, but still, the entire situation only heightened your unease.

Your phone and backpack lay on the table next to the bed, and you picked the device up, checking the time. To your surprise, it had only been an hour since you left the school grounds.

You texted your mother that you had arrived before getting off the bed and walking to the door in your socks. Before you could open it, however, your phone began to buzz in your hand.

“Hello?”

“(Y/N)! Is everything alright?” Your mother’s voice, tired but worried, sounded out from across the line.

“Yeah, everything’s fine! We just got here. I had to use the bathroom so they led me to a guest room; that’s where I am right now.” You paced around the room as you spoke before sitting on the edge of the bed and fingering the silk canopy.

You decided not to tell your mother about the falling asleep part. What she didn’t know couldn’t worry her.

“That’s good. I get out of work in a couple of hours, I’ll call you when I’m on my way. Just tell me how the project’s going in the meantime, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” She cautioned you one more time before hanging up the phone.

You put it in your skirt pocket and pulled open the wooden door, relieved by the fact that it made no sound. It led you to a hallway and you carefully walked out into it, making sure not to disturb anyone.

You surmised that you were located on the bottom floor of the house. The room you were in had been situated at the very end of the hallway, and you found the lack of noise unsettling.

At first, the only thing you could hear was the soft padding of your socked feet on the hardwood floor, but as you walked down the hallway, the sound of talking and laughing got louder and louder.

You peeked your head around the corner to see all five of the boys seated in a sort of lounge with large, floor-to-ceiling glass windows.

The Kims had somehow managed to perfectly blend the appearance of old money with the taste and style of new money artwork and design. The house looked like something straight out of a romantic fiction, young adult novel.

As you looked around the living room, it was somewhat hard for you to take in the amount of wealth in the home. The windows offered a splendid view of the surrounding forest from the inside, although clouded a bit by coffee voile curtains. Before them sat two settees with a small, rounded glass table between them. Closer to the entrance where you stood sat a gray sofa across from a much longer, L-shaped couch.

Taehyung and Jimin sat roughhousing passionately on the sofa while Hoseok, Namjoon, and Jungkook sat on the longer couch opposite them. The former was laughing at the two’s shenanigans, clapping his hands in glee and the latter two were occupied with separate activities: Namjoon reading, occasionally pushing his glasses up on his face and Jungkook concerned with something on his phone.

You hesitantly walked out. “...Jimin?”

All five heads snapped up as they watched you approach.

Jimin’s face broke out into an even bigger smile and he jumped up to stand in front of you. “(Y/N)! How are you feeling? Are you alright?”

“Did you sleep well?” Taehyung smiled mischievously from the couch, but you could tell from his tone that he meant well.

Your cheeks darkened in embarrassment. “Yeah! I’m so sorry about that, I just..didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. I thought I had handled my fatigue pretty well, but I guess it never actually left. You could’ve woken me up, you know...” You spoke with your head down, looking at your hands as they wrung together.

You heard the room go silent for a moment, just as you feared it would. When you looked up, all five of the boys had an enigmatic expression on their face.

It sent chills down your back, just how quickly their attitudes had switched. They went from joyful laughter and peaceful content to emotions you felt were unstable...you sensed a bit of helplessness paired with indifference, and the slightest hint of anger and contempt.

Perhaps it wasn’t the smartest idea to remind of them of the reason why they were ostracized so much, why they were seen as different. You mentally smacked yourself in the forehead, making a note to be more sensitive about the topic while you were in their presence.

The sound of a hardcover book snapping shut broke the silence, causing you to jump.

Namjoon gently placed the book he was reading on the couch’s armrest and looked at you with a cordial smile. “You should take better care of yourself, (Y/N). It wouldn’t do for you to fall asleep in your classes or end up unwell.”

With that sentence, the spell was broken.

Jimin gently took your forearm and tugged you into the direction of the sofa he was sitting on earlier, pouting as he spoke. “I should have known...you looked ready to drop since our break this morning.”

He seated you and took the place on your right as you waved him off. “It’s fine, it was my fault-”

“If you still want to rest, feel free to go back to the guest room!” Taehyung added, claiming the spot on the other side of you.

“Never feel like you have to hide how you feel around us, (Y/N).” Hoseok said with another winning grin, leaning forward in his seat.

You blinked warily at all of their support. “Well...thanks, guys.”

Your eyes stopped on Jungkook, who was staring at you, and his heavy gaze made you itch.

You leaned back in your seat and felt the sweater you’d woken up with start to slip.

You pulled it off of your shoulders, beginning to question how it even got there in the first place, and met eyes with Jungkook again. “Is this yours...?”

He nodded and opened his mouth to speak for the first time. “You were shivering in your sleep in the car. I thought you might need it, so I left it with you after I carried you in.”

You folded it and handed it back to him, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. “Thank you, Jungkook. Again, I’m sorry for falling asleep on you all like that.”

He took it from you, large eyes getting slightly wider in wonder.

“It’s alright, (Y/N). We’re glad to help you out with whatever you need.” Namjoon nodded and smiled, the dimple in his left cheek prominent. You smiled, a bit more relaxed now but still cautious of your behavior.

“Thank you for welcoming me to your lovely home, then.” You replied, admiring the layout once more.

“Aww, she thinks our home is lovely.” Taehyung gushed. “Seokjin hyung would love to hear that someone finally appreciates his taste in design.”

You cocked your head at him. “Your brother designed this living room?”

“Our eldest brother,” Jimin gushed. “He threw a huge tantrum a couple of years ago, complaining to our parents about how much he couldn’t stand the decor, so they let him draw up a design plan...then they ended up going along with it.”

“He and Yoongi hyung, our other brother, are usually studying away at college,” Taehyung went on. “Our parents bought them an apartment in the city so they could be closer to the campus, but because they have to be present for the meetings, they come back home for a bit every month.”

“They were here last night, but then they had to leave immediately.” Hoseok added.

Before the discussion could continue, you heard the sound of sharp clacks approaching the room.

“My darling sons,” A tilting voice spoke from the entryway and out came one of the most beautiful women you’d ever seen (aside from your mother, of course).

She glided across the wooden floor in sensibly high heels, a silk dress complementing her figure and a tan blazer resting on her shoulders. In her hands, she carried a silver tray full of neatly arranged snacks.

“I brought a little something for you all to enjoy! I know how hungry you all get-oh....who is this?” She slowed with a smile as she approached the couch.

Kim Eunbyul was not a person meant to be taken lightly. Her status in this town was no different than royalty, and she exemplified grace with every step that she took.

As expected of the two time winner of the Pluton Actress Award.

You stared at her in amazement before you quickly snapped back to your senses and rose, giving a polite bow in greeting. “Good evening, Mrs. Kim! I’m (Y/N) (L/N).”

“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest thing,” she hummed, laying the tray on the table. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, (Y/N). Might I ask why you’ve decided to visit our humble home?”

“She’s here on my invitation, Mother.” Jimin spoke and your gaze snapped over to him in shock. His tone sounded so...flat, so unfazed, so unlike every other expression you’d heard him use today. “We have a group project for Mrs. Hargrove’s class, one that will be a considerable part of our grade.”

“Alright, I understand.” She chided him slightly, seemingly used to his attitude. She came to stand before you, leaning a good couple of inches above you. “Let me get a good look at you.”

You smiled at her—an actual smile this time, albeit a small one—as she grasped your hands in hers.

To your surprise, you could feel them tremble slightly.

You stood there, making an effort to avoid eye contact as she studied you. When you looked to the brothers’ in an attempt for nonverbal help, your breath hitched.

The siblings gazed at their mother with something likened to...no, something that was utter detestation.

Jungkook payed her no mind, his thumb obsessively stroking the sweater he held in his possession once more.

Hoseok and Taehyung openly glared at their mother behind her back, the elder’s lips frowning in annoyance and the younger’s twisting into a sneer.

Jimin’s eyes glued onto her, oozing indifference, his gaze all too similar to the one he’d sent Mrs. Hargrove earlier that day.

Namjoon simply watched his mother with cocky amusement glinting in his eyes.

Mrs. Kim gave your hands a gentle squeeze and she smiled. “You have a wonderful energy around you, my dear. You possess a wisdom far beyond your years, and great power as well. I advise you to be wary of some of the people around you, though. They may want to steal your power for themselves.” She gave a small sigh and pat the back of your hands before lowering them gently.

“Thank...you?” You smiled at her in polite confusion. As far as you knew, Mrs. Kim was an actress. No one had said anything about her being able to tell people’s fortunes.

Your classmates would have called her a witch.

But with her husband acting as Wylynne’s divine messenger, would she truly have no powers herself...?

“Of course, my dear.” She gave you one last smile. “Please, enjoy yourself, and make yourself right at home. Our doors will always be open to you.”

She then left the living room, not so much as sparing a glance towards her sons. Not that they would have wanted it anyway, for they looked as though they couldn’t stand a second longer of her presence.

You watched her go, leaving with the same grace that she came in with, but much quicker than before.

Your palm still tickled from the feeling of her trembling hand in yours.

“Sorry about that,” Namjoon stood up, brushing off his uniform pants. “I wouldn’t take her prediction to heart. Our mother tends to do that to everyone she meets-”

“Are they true?”

“...What?”

Just as you started getting slightly comfortable in this bizarre atmosphere, Namjoon’s intense stare brought you back to the present, reminding you of your place.

“Is there some truth to her evaluations?” You innocently asked, trying not to cave under the weight of the older boy’s attention.

“I must admit, I wouldn’t know,” he chuckled, his gaze softening, “we’re the only ones she refuses to do a reading on.”

You nodded, intrigued. “I see. I just find those interesting, is all...”

“Well,” Jimin interrupted, hopping up and clapping his hands. “we should get started on our project!”

“I left my bag in the room, I should go get it.” You turned to go in the general direction of the hallway from which you came but was stopped by Taehyung gently grabbing your elbow.

“Here!” He stood up, toeing his sandals off and sliding them in your direction. “Jungkook took your shoes off and placed them at the front of the house with the rest of ours, so you might need these.”

“Oh! Thank you. I’ll be sure to return them before I leave.” You smiled at him.

He blushed and grinned in return.

Jungkook's hair fell into his eyes as he looked down in shame. “I should have prepared a pair of slippers for you while you were sleeping, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it!” You claimed, just to watch his eyes light up again.

“Good luck on the project, you two!” Hoseok said, turning to leave.

“Let me come with you, (Y/N)!” Jimin said, taking you by the hand. “We’ll be right back, Namjoon hyung!”

He pulled you towards the entryway and you heard the boys start to disassemble behind you, heading off toward their respective locations with the exception of Namjoon, who sat back down on the couch to wait.

You traipsed down the hallway with Jimin. “I think your mother is a lovely person,” you quietly stated.

Jimin didn’t pause, but his grip on your elbow tightened before he turned to you, eyes scrunched together because of his wide smile. “I’m glad you think so! I think she likes you as well.”

You smiled back at him, carefully watching his expression, before turning your gaze to the wood floor. He stood at the doorway as you grabbed your bag and arranged the bed.

When that was finished, the two of you walked down the hallway and met up with Namjoon, and ascended to the third floor of the home.

---------------------------------------------

The Kims’ library looked like something out of Beauty and the Beast, though it was nowhere near as grandiose in height. Your inner bookworm squealed at the sight of all the books lining the shelves, as well as the plush couch and beanbags resting in the leftmost corner of the library.

You held on to the strap of your bag, following Jimin and Namjoon as they weaved their way through multiple bookcases.

Namjoon reached a dilapidated wooden shelf at the back of the room. His fingers trailed over the book backings and he backtracked and picked one up, blowing the dust off of it only to end up coughing. Jimin muffed his giggle as he covered his nose and mouth with his sweater sleeve.

“I believe this is what you were looking for,” he said once his coughing fit was over, “The Word of the Lost.”

What a fascinating title...

“Ah, yes, hyung! This is exactly what we needed!” Jimin’s eyes practically sparkled as he took the book from his brother. It was an old, leather bound thing and the glossy pages flashed underneath the dim library lights.

It reminded you of the older bibles with illuminated pages.

“Thank you for helping us look.” You said. Namjoon nodded toward you with his classic student-body-president smile.

“Of course. I thumbed through this book many times as a child.” Namjoon said. “I’m sure you both will be able to find a fascinating creature to do your report on.”

The three of you walked out from the labyrinth of shelves and you beelined toward the couch, making yourself comfortable.

Jimin came to sit next to you, placing the book on his lap and waving goodbye to his brother. While you were bent over retrieving your school materials, Namjoon returned the wave with a smirk and left the library, leaving the two of you to your work.

You pulled out your notebook and a writing utensil, turning to Jimin as your academic weariness set in once more. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” he stated, opening the book. “I don’t spend as much time in the library as Namjoon hyung, but I do remember there being a host of creatures in this book...”

UnFortunately, Namjoon’s recollection of the text was spot on. There were so many mythological creatures, you and Jimin were overwhelmed and didn’t know which one to pick.

“How about banshees?” Jimin suggested.

“The harbingers of death?” You mused. “I know of them. They’re one of my favorites.”

“Ah...then what about the wendigo?”

You shuddered. “I know about them as well; their folklore is so interesting, but so creepy.”

Jimin nodded, paging through the novel again. “We could research golems?”

You smiled and shook your head. “I’ve heard about them before relative to Jewish mythology...and they’re somewhat similar to the Egyptian ushabti.”

Jimin playfully groaned and dropped his head back onto the couch. “You’re so learned, (Y/N)! How did you hear about all of these mythological figures?”

You shrugged and smiled a bit, doodling in your notebook. “I’ve just come across them in some way or another...usually through the media.”

You gently took the book off of Jimin’s lap and decided to thumb through it yourself, turning to the chapter list to see the different branches of creatures. Your finger ran down the list before stopping at a certain name.

“...Jimin, have you ever heard anything about nephilim?”

He stiffened and his brows furrowed. “No. What are they?”

You flipped the book to the demonstrated page number and began reading. “‘Nephilim are creatures conceived of humans and angels. These fascinating individuals are born with immense amounts of both angelic grace and the original sin of human beings.’” You beamed. “Perfect! This creature sounds the most interesting-”

You turned to speak to Jimin and found his face uncomfortably close to yours. Gone was the innocent, boyish expression on his face, replaced by an endearing and inquisitive stare.

You immediately turned your head to look back down at the page. “-of the creatures...and the least known,” you mumbled, hoping he couldn’t see the tint of red on your cheeks.

Rather than taking the book for himself, Jimin started reading it over your shoulder. You tried not to breathe too hard with his proximity.

He’s too close...

“‘As they mature, they must come to terms with their proclivity to sin and balance it out with their angelic nature. Nevertheless, this arduous task often leaves them with an identity crisis, and most succumb to their sinful natures.’” Once he finished, he turned to you with an impressed look. “You’re right! This sounds really interesting, and if you haven’t heard of these figures, then they should definitely be the one we research.”

“Yeah! So we should get started, then,” you said, pulling out your laptop and casually reseating yourself a couple inches away from Jimin.

“Mrs. Hargrove wants us to do a presentation as well as write an essay for this project...which do you think we should we work on first?” You asked him, sending your mother your location, and opening a new tab.

“We could write the essay first, and then pull information from that to combine it with what we find from our research for the presentation.” Jimin suggested, taking out a laptop of his own.

“Sounds good! I shared a document with you.”

The both of you spent the next two hours on your computers, researching as many articles on nephilim as possible. It was somewhat difficult, finding authentic sources about the creatures rather than commentaries on media representations of them, but working off of what The Word of the Lost gave you, there was enough to compile a hefty source list.

After that, however, you, still mentally exhausted, started to get distracted, and then Jimin decided to take a break as well. The project was due near the end of the semester, and the two of you had made enough progress for tonight. You deserved this break.

Outside, the light changed from the orange afternoon sun to the cool blue of evening. Before your very eyes, the sky outside was purple, and the oranges and greens of the leaves had disappeared in the dark, turning into obscure figures and shapes outside the window that left you wanting to pull the curtains closed.

A couple of minutes later, you were startled by the click of the library doors.

Mrs. Kim peered through the opening. “Ah, there you both are!”

She approached you and Jimin with two glasses of water, one in each hand.

You took the glass she handed to you and expressed your thanks. Her hands didn’t seem to be trembling as much as they were earlier.

“How is it going?”

“We made a lot of progress--I think this project is going to be a good one.” You smiled at her and she returned it, relieved.

She raised a hand and paused, hesitantly lowering it gently into Jimin’s hair and stroking it lovingly. The boy froze, lowering the glass from his lips and turning to look at Mrs. Kim.

“Yes, thank you, Mother.” His tone remained flat.

She breathed out a sigh and nodded at him before turning to you. “(Y/N), darling, I believe your mother has arrived downstairs.”

Your eyes widened and you began packing your school materials. “Oh, really? She didn’t even tell me! I must have overstayed my welcome.”

Mrs. Kim laughed lightheartedly. “Not at all dear. It’s most likely because she encountered my husband along the way. They’re both seated downstairs, talking.”

On the outside, you managed to give Mrs. Kim a pleasant smile. On the inside, however, your thoughts were raging.

Why, of all people, would Kim Moonsik want to have a conversation with her?

If that old man tries to sacrifice my mother to his creepy little moon goddess, I swear, I’ll-

“I can take you to meet with her, no worries.” Mrs. Kim stated, bringing her blazer closer around her shoulders. “I’ll just wait for you outside.”

She glanced at Jimin once more and turned away, heels clacking on the floor as the click of the door sounded.

You zipped up your bag, having nothing else to pack, and pulled it over your shoulder.

Before you could stand to leave, however, Jimin gently took your hand in his.

“(Y/N), before you go, I just wanted to say thank you.”

The boy was looking down at his lap, his eyes covered by strands of his hair. You patiently waited for him to finish.

“I know everyone is suspicious of us and would rather not interact with us at all for fear of...” he paused on the last bit, “but you have been the only to one to approach us wholeheartedly.”

“Thank you for not treating us like freaks, or some sort of plague or disease like everyone else.” Jimin raised his head, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes.

You smiled and gently squeezed his hand. “Please, think nothing of it. Why would I treat you like something you’re not?”

“You and your brothers are all just people. You’re a family, just like how everyone else in this town has families.” You spoke quietly. “You may not be the most...orthodox of families, yes, but you’re hardly to blame for that. Who’s to decide what the norm is anyway?”

Besides, I have no reason to hurt you or yours, you thought.

Jimin huffed out a sob and gathered you in his arms in a hug. You grunted, as it was unexpected, but hesitantly raised your arms to pat him on the back.

“It’s alright,” you murmured.

Behind your back, Jimin did have tears falling down his face, but rather than a look of sorrow or suffering, sheer, hysterical glee appeared on his face.

He struggled to suppress the broad grin threatening to take over his expression.

The smell of your hair was intoxicating...

“I thank the goddess for you, (Y/N),” he murmured, low enough that you could not make out what he said.

He made sure he regained control of his expression and then pulled away from the hug with a soft smile. He stood up and took your bag for you, much like how you had taken his earlier that day, and led you to his mother, who was waiting outside.

The three of you walked down the two flights of stairs to find Namjoon, Hoseok, and their father speaking with your mother.

She was quite the visage in their home, sitting on the smaller gray sofa, still in her scrubs.

Kim Moonsik sat in front of her, with one of his sons on either side, looking like interviewers for a job position, while she sat on the edge of the couch opposite them, her hands placed in her lap and looking extremely uncomfortable.

“Yes, well, working at the hospital has its downsides, but it also has its valuable life experience,” you heard her say. “I truly enjoy caring for and working with all kinds of patients, as well as with the staff of the inter-professional team.”

You heard a hearty laugh, followed by the voice that you were supposed to only be subject to once a month.

“Careers like yours are crucial in the eyes of the moon goddess, Ms. (L/N). It sounds as though you’re doing a wonderful job.” Kim Moonsik grinned and nodded at your mother, who forced a laugh. “Wylynne looks down on you with favor.”

“Ah, thank you, Mayor Kim. Praise Wylynne...”

She made eye contact with you as you descended the staircase and quietly sighed in relief.

“There’s our guest for the evening!” Mr. Kim cheered and stood up, walking to stand in front of you and Jimin while his wife slipped by, pressing a kiss to his cheek, as she went to sit next to your mother.

Without the luminescent glow of the moon or the intimidating glow of purple flames streaking across his face, Kim Moonsik almost looked like any other successful businessman and father. He and his wife both had dark hair and dark eyes, and they appeared to be quite the happy couple.

But there was no way that the past several years of monthly meetings was a dream. There was plenty of reason for caution around them, no matter how pleasant they may seem.

Your mother had nagged enough sense into you for you to know that much, at the very least.

You bowed again, hoping your nerves weren’t showing through your voice. “Good evening, Mr. Kim. I’m (Y/N) (L/N). It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He chuckled in a good natured manner. “The pleasure is all mine...I trust you and Jimin were able to accomplish what you needed for your project?”

How did he know? “Ah, yes...we made loads of progress today.” You smiled politely.

“Eunbyul told me all about our visitors just before I arrived,” he responded as though he heard your question and smiled proudly, gently clapping Jimin on the back. “That’s amazing news to hear.”

Jimin smiled cordially, pulling you away from his father and walked over towards his brothers.

“(Y/N)-ie is leaving us now,” Hoseok fake pouted.

You grimace-smiled at him.

“Please,” Namjoon scoffed. “She’ll be over here so many times, we’ll start to get sick of her, right (Y/N)?”

“As long as you don’t mind having me over,” you said. “We have until the end of the semester to do the project, so, yeah, I might be over a couple more times...” You slowed as the reality of the situation started to hit. “Actually, Jimin, can I see your phone?”

He handed you his phone and you put your number in his contacts and texted yourself. “Now you have my number, and I have yours.” You smiled at him and handed the device back.

Jimin’s eyes widened in glee and he grinned in return. “Thanks, (Y/N)!”

Hoseok’s fists tightened his pockets.

Kim Eunbyul stood to her feet, her conversation apparently over. “You and your daughter are welcome any time,” she emphasized, placing a hand on your mother’s back.

“Indeed, Ms. (L/N), Our home is your home.” Kim Moonsik added, placing his hands on his wife’s shoulders.

“Thank you so much, we’re truly grateful for the invitation.” You heard your mother say.

You carefully slid Taehyung’s sandals off your feet and lifted them up. Jimin handed you your backpack in exchange for the sandals and you took it, swinging it over your shoulders. “Please tell Taehyung and Jungkook I said goodbye, and that it was lovely meeting you all.” You said.

“We will!” Hoseok smiled, waving goodbye.

“See you tomorrow at school!” Jimin called and waved enthusiastically.

You waved and bowed to the Kims one more time, then took your mother’s hand and walked down the front steps.

Her car was parked outside the garage (read: haphazardly strewn across the asphalt).

Your mother got into the front seat and put on her seatbelt without saying a word. Even when she began to drive, she was eerily silent.

It was not until the both of you were outside of the gates, down the hill, and outside of the forest that your mother abruptly stepped on the brakes and unbuckled her seatbelt, exiting the car.

You repeated her movements in alarm, slamming the passenger door shut and running to the other side of the car.

You got there just in time to watch as she keeled over on the side of the road and began to throw up.

“Mom!”

-----------------------------------------------------

Back at the Kim household, the instant the two guests left, a violent chill swept across the room.

Hoseok went to stand threateningly in front of Jimin. “Don’t go around thinking you’re better than the rest of us.”

The younger boy’s grin morphed into a devilish sneer. “Be careful, hyung...it’s starting to sound like you’re jealous.” He shook his phone, still open to (Y/N)’s contact information, tauntingly.

Namjoon scoffed at their bickering before turning his attention to smile at Moonsik and Eunbyul. “Mother...Father...we bid you goodnight.”

Hoseok smirked, following Namjoon up the stairs.

Jimin made a move to go follow them as well, but he stopped in front of Eunbyul.

“Mother dearest.” The sophomore gripped the woman’s chin, turning her gaze to land directly on him. “As the most talented actress in our county, your performance could have been a bit more...convincing.”

He looked her up and down, and then released her, throwing her to the right and out of his direct path. Eunbyul stumbled to the side, her form quite visibly shaking.

“I look forward to seeing what you come up with in the future.”

Jimin shouldered Moonsik, climbing past him up to his room on the second floor.

-------------------------------------------------

Your mother had stopped throwing up, but you continued rubbing her back comfortingly.

She stood up on wobbly legs and you supported her on the way back to the car. You reached in your bag for your water bottle and some tissues, handing them to her.

She cleaned her mouth off, swished some water around in her mouth, spat it out the window, and then drank some more.

Before you could even ask if she was alright, she turned to you with another stern look. “I was so worried about you.”

Your eyes widened incredulously, but softened just as fast. “Mom, you didn’t have to worry! We were just working on a class project, like I said.”

Your mother nodded and sighed, putting the seatbelt back on. “I understand. It-it’s just terrifying to realize how close you were to-” She trailed off and tried again. “I mean, what if....”

This was a first, for you, to see your mother so visibly shaken.

She usually was, and is, the epitome of strength in your life. To think that seeing the Kims jarred her to this point...

You grasped your mother’s hand. “I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. They’re just people, Mom.”

“People can be just as dangerous as deities,” she whispered, putting the car into drive.

With that thought, the both of you sat in ominous silence until you had arrived at your home.

-----------------------------------------------------

Once you and your mother arrived, you both had dinner and you ensured that she was able to go to bed of sound mind and heart. From the way she pushed you off of her, you surmised she had collected herself enough to return to her usual temperament.

You made your way up the stairs to your room and threw your bag somewhere near you desk, booking it to the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, after a refreshing shower and a change of clothes, you sat at your desk. It was already significantly late, and you still had to complete the other classes’ homework that you didn’t have the chance to start while at the Kim’s.

As you basked in the comfort of your home’s walls, you felt truly relaxed for the first time that night.

Jimin and his brothers were, for the most part nice, although misunderstood. The student body usually stayed away from them because of their parents and the influence they had on this town.

Perhaps if this town were normal...

You sighed and immediately chased the thought away. This town was far from normal, that couldn’t be clear enough. And with Kim Moonsik in charge, the sense of unearthliness clearly wouldn’t change any time soon.

You spent the next couple of hours doing the other assignments to the best of your ability. When you deemed it enough, you decided to call it a night, packing your things away and climbing under the covers.

Just as you began scrolling through social media, your phone vibrated from an incoming notification and your brows furrowed.

Who was still awake at this hour? And why were they contacting you?

Perhaps it was Mana, you thought, begging to hear details about what it was like at the Kim house before tomorrow. You probably should have texted them when you got home, considering school was no longer the most....open place to have these discussions.

Nevertheless, you opened your messages and, to your surprise, there lay a text from none other than Kim Jimin.

I’m really glad I met you, (Y/N) 😇

Aww, that’s sweet of him, you thought.

You paused, wondering if you should pretend that you’re asleep rather than text him back right now, as the conversation could always continue in the morning.

You also thought of how he might nag you should he discover you’re awake at this hour after passing out in his car and at his house, and winced.

Yes, it would be best to ignore that until tomorrow morning.

Having had enough of the day, you put your phone to charge and pressed your head to the pillow, falling asleep.

-----------------------------------------------------

As Jimin lay in bed that night, he thought about your comment earlier this afternoon.

“I’m so sorry about that, I just..didn’t get a lot of sleep last night...You could’ve woken me up, you know...”

It wasn’t the fact that they were reminded of the sacrifice last night that made them pause.

No, it was the fact that that worthless scum caused their beloved to lose precious hours, minutes, and even seconds of sleep.

Almost every meaningful contribution Natalia Pierre gave life, served to make yours more difficult than it already was.

She should have been a sacrifice much, much sooner.

On the other hand, they should have thanked her, they supposed. For it was her demise that led you to sleep so silently, so soundly in their presence.

They had finally gotten the opportunity to see you at your most vulnerable, and they couldn’t get enough of it.

But they reined in their greed and held any dominating thoughts at bay. For patience was the art of the game.

Sooner or later, willingly or unwillingly, you would present yourself to them and their company.

And they would welcome you with open hearts and open arms.

---------------------------------------------------

~taglist~

@melaninkpops @loserwithapen @hellaspookystudent @ecillartto @omgsuperstarg @ace-angel-judas @jjamsbangtan @lovinggalaxies @lovesick-heart0 @ksxmpoison @girlmeetsliv3 @thedarkwinterrose @purpuravm @oneweirdbean @hopelessfountainjoonie @mazmaz30 @enigmaticlove-03 @uppiespuppy

#yandere bts x reader #yandere bts #yandere #ot7 #ot7 x reader #yandere ot7 x reader #yandere kim seokjin #yandere min yoongi #yandere jung hoseok #yandere kim namjoon #yandere park jimin #yandere kim taehyung #yandere jeon jungkook #high school au #college au #supernatural

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shintorikhazumi · 3 years

Text

(Diakko week) There’s no way she- (5) ““There’s no way she would ever lose her again.””

A/N: I’m late because. I’m dying in school. Thank you. Dw, I’ll finish the story regardless.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

Day 5: Afterlife/Reincarnation

“There’s no way she would ever lose her again.”

[“I will be with you in our next life, and into forever... Diana.”]

“-ness. Your highness, please wake up.”

Akko stirred from her slumber, feeling the silken sheets slip from her shoulders as she was aided into a sitting position.

Yesterday’s meeting must have really worn her out if her body felt this heavy the following morning.

“Ugh- Thank you, Anna. May I have a glass of water?” She requested, holding a hand out in waiting while the other cradled her throbbing head.

“Of course, your excellency.”

Having been handed the drink, Akko took large gulps until she cleared the cup of its contents, handing it back to her attendant. “Thank you.”

“I am glad to be of service.”

Akko continued to massage her throbbing temples, trying to think of all she had to attend to today. It was proving difficult however as she felt strange emotions swirl deep within her. Somehow, she felt as though she had dreamt of something important last night. However, she could not- for the life of her- seem to remember.

“Could you call Finnelan for me?” She moaned through the steadily intensifying pain.

“Right away.”

Akko nodded her gratefulness to Anna who quickly went to fetch the person she needed to see. Not a minute later, Akko’s court adviser had walked into the room, some papers in hand.

“You rang, Empress?”

Kagari Atsuko, empress of the continent of Solis, raised her head to greet her subject, trying her best to put on a presentable face.

“Yes. I apologize for my current state, but I’m feeling a little unwell. I’d like to ask if I had anything important that I needed to accomplish today? Anything that needs immediate regard?”

Finnelan gave her a sympathetic smile, leafing through the papers she had brought with her. “Not that I know of, Empress. You are fairly ahead of schedule for most of your work, and anything scheduled for today can be moved to at least three days later with nothing affecting any ongoing or future work.”

Akko sighed in relief, allowing herself to fall back into her covers. “Thank goodness. Would it be alright if I take the day off? I’m feeling a little unwell.”

Finellan laughed at the question. The young empress sure could be considerate.

“You literally own the entire empire, your Majesty. People’s time revolves around you. I mean this in a positive way. You are allowed to take breaks. No one could ever tell you no.”

Akko laughed along lightly with her, glad that she could take a much deserved rest.

“I will take up the opportunity then.”

“Please do. We can’t have our Empress functioning at any capacity less than her best.”

“Understood~” Akko lazily saluted as her subjects shook their heads in fondness.

“We shall be taking our leave then.” Finnelan said for both of them, taking a bow as she did.

“If you need anything, your majesty, feel free to call for me.” Anna reminded before they both finally left the empress to her own devices.

At the sound of the door clicking shut, Akko sighed, draping her arm across her eyes as she thought of what she should do with her free time now. Clearly, resting was at the top of her priority list, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to just keep still and laze around all day.

She decided she’d nap and grab a bite to eat before doing some exploring- something she hadn’t been able to do lately. The forests to the south of the palace sounded like the ideal place to adventure in today.

With her plan in mind, she laid herself to sleep and succumbed to the temptations of her sheets.

Akko felt significantly better once mid-afternoon came around. She had satisfyingly filled her stomach and had acquired her much needed rest. Refreshed, she decided to go for a ride into the southern woods, as planned.

Akko walked through the palace halls, first searching for Anna to let her know she was heading out. With the castle staff aware of her whereabouts, she made her way out the back doors and hiked far enough that she’d be hidden from anyone’s immediate sight.

She scanned her surroundings for any presence or unwanted eyes. Finding none, she sighed in relief, reaching into the pocket of her coat and pulling out a small locket- an oddly shaped one. One that looked uncannily like...

A briefcase.

This odd artifact had been with her since the day she was born, apparently. Her parents hadn’t given it to her, that’s for sure. They just said that one moment she was born, and the next they’d seen her, she already had the necklace laid next to her in her crib. She had never parted with it since then.

It wasn’t something they could explain. Maybe a cleric or a mysterious nurse had gifted it to her, who knew. All Akko knew was that one day, she suddenly had many creatures to call family, and somehow, she knew each one by heart.

Whispering a few words against the locket, and planting a gentle kiss on it, the case grew and she was able to open it.

Biting her lip, she weighed a few options in her mind. Who should she call today...

Ah, of course. If she wanted to brave the woods and look for adventure, who better to call on than-

“Florence.”

Immediately, a gentle glow of light filled her area, and a regal-looking creature emerged, basking in the light for a few moments before nuzzling Akko’s side.

The empress giggled, petting her creature before returning the briefcase to its former state and hanging it around her neck.

“Hello, my friend.”

Without her having to say another word, Florence took her up on his own back before quickly ascending to the heavens and flying quickly across the vast lands, giving Akko a gorgeous bird’s eye view of the landscape.

As they sword above the heights of trees, Akko spotted an open area. She was sure that if she had walked the woods, she’d never spot this peculiar looking shack as it seemed cloaked in some sort of... magic.

Carefully, she had Florence glide about the air before silently landing nearby, but not quite in the area. Her intuition had proved right as she struggled for a few minutes to see what she had found from above. Using her general instinct and memory of where she vaguely assumed that place to be, she eventually stumbled through an odd-feeling magical barrier that allowed her to stumble upon a cottage that looked nothing like what she had seen mid-air.

It looked cozy, quite homely.

Akko looked around, hoping to see any signs of a person as clearly someone resided here- what with the well-kept grass and the lively waving by the window.

She followed the dotted stony path leading to the door, reading the sign left there.

[Apothecary Cavendish is closed. Return tomorrow.]

Akko frowned slightly for two reasons. One beint that that odd name caused her head to throb once more. Was she getting sick again? Maybe not. The other reason Akko felt disheartened was due to the fact that she wouldn’t exactly be having a tomorrow to check this place out as she would have to get back to work. She wasn’t quite sure if she’d have any time this week either. Or this month. Or... ever.

She weighed her options.

She could sneak out of the castle at some point in the future. Or maybe she could quench her curious thirst right now and try opening the door- have a little peek, that’s all. She could say that it was an inspection since she was sure this place wasn’t on the empire’s map, nor was it registered in any city or town hall.

She was simply investigating, yes. Investigating. For the safety of her country and men.

Akko nodded, knowing she hadn’t really convinced herself of anything. Reaching for the knob, she felt her hands sweat and tremble, throat drying. She really was justifying her actions that could very well be a crime. Empress or not, this was really wrong. But... She just had to know... She just had to reach and turn the knob and take one small look and all would be fine. She’d leave without a trace, and no one would kno-

“Who are you.”

Akko felt her body go rigid in fright, slowly turning around to spot a woman with basket of what seemed to be herbs. Had she just returned from collecting them-

“Ugh-”

“Hey! Are you okay?”

Again. It was back again. The pain in her head.

Akko crouched down, cradling her head in her hands with her eyes squeezed shut as the world spun round and round until she hit the ground. She barely heard the panicked yelling of her companion as all went to black.

“You’re awake.”

Akko blinked once, twice. Her visage was filled with soft light and wooden framing across a tall roof. Turning to her side she watched the woman she’d met only moments ago squeezing a towel over a basin before gently laying it over her forehead.

“A high fever, and you had the gall to go exploring in these dangerous woods.” She scolded Akko who couldn’t help but stare, not processing anything she’d just said.

Akko didn’t know why, but something spoke familiarity in just about everything this woman had been showing her. Her manner of speech, of action, the way she was currently scolding Akko with a stern and frank voice that still held a gentle warmth to it- everything about her told Akko that couldn’t possibly be the first time they’d met.

At least... not in this lifetime...?

Akko did a double-take at her thought process. This lifetime? What did that mean? Had she ever been one to believe in something like reincarnation and multiple lives? Well, she didn’t necessarily doubt it either. She simply never thought of it until now.

So… what did she think of it now?

“Um, pardon me? Are you alright? Are you still with me?”

Akko realized her mind had wandered so far that she forgot her manners.

“Ah, my apologies. I just...just…” She had looked up to meet the eyes of her savior to show her sincerity, but so quickly got lost in them. Sparkling blue gems that were framed with long lashes above the gentle slope of a tall nose and healthy pink lips distracted her.

Holy shit. This lady was-

“Absolutely stunning.”

Miss Stunning blinked. As did Akko.

“Thank...you…?”

It was only then that Akko came to her senses, immediately rising from the bed, only to smack her head straight into her companion’s nose.

“CR- CRUMPETS AND SHIITAKE MUSHROOMS-… WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” She groaned, nursing her nose and checking for any possible signs of bleeding.

Fortunately for her, their were none. Unfortunately for Akko she was now rather cross.

Akko reached out to assist her, but the woman promptly created distance between them, not trusting Akko anymore in case of any more surprise attacks.

“Miss, I-”

“Just-! If you’re feeling better, please leave. Please. I beg you.”

Akko really, truly felt terrible for causing her so much trouble that she silently complied. With a bow, she gathered her coat that had been hanging off a dining room chair, wore it and said her farewells.

“I’m sorry to have bothered you. And trespassed.” She apologized, head hung low. “I-if it’s alright…” Still, something deep within her told her she still needed to come back. She needed to know of this woman and the strong pull she seemed to have over her. “May I come back?”

Akko could see the woman’s hesitance in her eyes. She watched her deliberate over the decision, before sighing and agreeing, much too Akko’s surprise.

“Fine. I guess I do need a few more customers. Wouldn’t mind that.” She reluctantly gave Akko a smile… and a piece of paper with a few things written on it.

Akko cocked her head to the side, scrutinizing the item. “What’s this?” She inquired, confused.

She watched the other woman crack a grin, finding it somehow incredibly endearing. “The bill.” She stated factually. “For the services I’ve provided you, good miss.”

Akko’s jaw dropped at the words. She couldn’t even tell if she was being teased or-

“I’m dead serious.” She was told. “My ingredients don’t really grow on tre-… okay, some do. But this forest doesn’t exactly grow me any money. Only resources.”

That drew a fit of laughs from Akko who was incredibly amused by this stranger’s straightforwardness.

“Alright, alright.” She was never really short on money anyway. “I’ll come back with your compensation. That, I promise.”

And she swore she died a little at the smile she received just then. Her brain ceased to function and her feet would no longer move.

“Miss?”

“O-Oh! Sorry, just… uh. Got lost in the moment there. Um…” Awkwardly scratching the back of her head, she bid her farewells. “Well, I’ll see you around um…” Oh. She didn’t quite know the woman’s name.

“Hmm?” Akko was given a questioning look before the apothecary caught on. “Oh, right. We forgot to introduce ourselves to one another. Hello there.”

“H-hello.”

“I go by Cavendish…

Diana Cavendish.”

And at those words it felt like puzzles of a piece Akko didn’t know she was solving, suddenly fit. Sparks connected, and her mind ran miles and miles per hour over memories, thoughts, emotions, and a past Akko now fully remembered.

A past where she had love. A past where she had… Diana Cavendish.

She hadn’t even realized when it was she started crying, but Diana had reacted faster than she did, dabbing Akko’s face with a handkerchief while awkwardly consoling her.

“May I… embrace you?” Akko suddenly blurted out.

Diana, already surprised from Akko’s sudden crying, became all the more shocked. Her being a little weirded out by what Akko had requested was also not something she particularly hid from showing on her face.

“May I... Could I possibly embrace you?” Akko repeated to her, well aware of how odd it was to ask that of someone who clearly thought her to be a stranger.

“I don’t even know who you are, sorry.” Diana eventually admitted, the words breaking Akko’s heart just a bit.

Akko couldn’t remember the last time words had hurt her this much, but Diana not remembering the things they’d been through and Akko knowing the things she knew… it was just a bit much.

Maybe… this wasn’t something that was meant to be. Akko decided to plaster on a smile. Maybe she could try again tomorrow? Would Diana be able to remember her as well? Should Akko just tell her? Would she even believe her?

Akko didn’t have much time to think about it any longer as the sun began to set. It was time for her to leave.

“My apologies.” Akko sighed, giving Diana a respectful bow. “That was rather rude of me, wasn’t it?”

Diana gave her a small, suspicious nod.

“I must be on my way, but… um…” Akko felt her palms sweat and she quickly wiped it off on her garments before holding a hand out. “Let us start over again.” She smiled. She could do this much at least. Right?

Diana took her hand incredibly slowly and carefully. Akko kept up her smile despite all the salt continuously being added to a fresh wound.

“Hello, Miss Diana.” She greeted. “I am a simple noblewoman in this country and I go by the name..,” Maybe if she said her name, Diana would remember just as she had.

Or maybe not and Akko would continue to wallow in sadness for a few days more.

Only one way to find out.

“Kagari Atsuko”

Nothing.

There was nothing.

Diana neither flinched, nor blinked, nor spoke a word.

Akko could now actually hear her heart start to crack, ready to shatter. The universe sure could be cruel sometime-

The sunset sky sure looked lovely from where Akko was laying on the ground, tackled by a Diana who now sobbed heavily into her robe.

“B-by gods, Akko… Akko. Akko.” Diana chanted, over and over and over again. “Akko. Akko. Akko. Atsuko. Kagari Atsuko. My Akko.” She cried into the crook of Akko’s neck, placing kisses along that curve and up to her cheek,

Adjusting herself so that she was comfortably atop Akko, she cupped both the brunette’s cheeks, looking into her eyes as if she were confirming this to not be a dream.

Akko felt her eyes water again, the shock of the sudden attack fading away as it all begun to sink.

That Diana remembered.

That they both did.

As though she had found it, Diana’s face lit up into the biggest smile as she leaned down to plant a kiss on Akko’s lips for as long as she could, like she was afraid Akko would disappear again at any minute.

They both laughed through the tears and the kisses, Akko carefully sitting them up with Diana situated on her lap.

Having run out of air, they parted, Akko immediately grabbing both of Diana’s hands and planted kissed on them,

Diana felt her stomach flutter at the familiar gesture, bringing her hands up to brush the sides of Akko’s face, her bangs and hair, and play with her eats that were warm at the tips.

“I’ve missed you.” Diana whispered.

The floodgates opened once more and Akko cried the most she had in this lifetime.

Cradling Diana close to her chest. Showering her lover with her own affections and completely forgetting about her home, Akko just reveled in the miracle that they had acquired, happy beyong measure.

“I’ve finally found you again.” She told Diana, tightening her arms around her as she felt Diana do the same.

Akko smiled even wider-if it was possible as she continued her statement.

“I love you.” She whispered with Diana whispering it back. “And this time, I’ll never lose you. Ever again.” Akko promised, and Diana nodded, wrapped in euphoria and Akko’s arms.

“Never again.”

A/N: I rushed this already, I’m sorry. ;-;. See you last 2 chaps!

~Shintori Khazumi

#diakkoweek #i'm not early #i know #diakko #dianakko week 2021 #diana cavendish #atsuko kagari #fanfic

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lia-jones · 3 years

Text

Growing Together - Chapter Twenty-Five - Kintsugi

Kintsugi - Kintsugi (金継ぎ, "golden joinery"), also known as kintsukuroi (金繕い, "golden repair"),[1] is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum, a method similar to the maki-e technique.

Wikipedia

He woke up in his bed, disoriented, wondering how he had gotten there in the first place. The last thing he remembered was being…

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The memories came all at once, flooding his senses, and he had no choice but to painfully relive every single one of them in his mind: the lawsuit, Mina’s death and funeral, his fight with Andrea, the glass hitting the wall, his panic attack. His wife’s hand, lovingly squeezing his, lighting his way back to sanity.

His son, crying, scared to lose yet another parent, called the paramedics. Victor recalled, in the middle of his mental chaos, being put on an oxygen mask and told to breathe, but the fact that he now had strangers witnessing his meltdown only made him panic more. Eventually, he was given an injection, as Andrea’s coaxing was no longer enough to have him relax. After the paramedics were sent away by her, she took him to bed, but not before helping him change his sweat-drenched clothes. He could remember how helpless he was, his body soft and useless, his eyes too heavy to be kept open. Andrea carefully laying him in bed.

“Stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He looked outside the bedroom window, it was already dark. He wondered if Andrea had already gone to bed, but he already knew the answer. Just like he refused to sleep before he put the glass back together, she would stay put until she saw all of his pieces back in place, sturdy and strong. No matter how hard her fingers bled.

Victor wondered how many times did a glass have to break to be deemed irreparable. He felt like the glass on his desk, ugly and useless, unable to hold anything. He wondered if she would see that in him, now that he had shown her his weak side. He wondered if she would regret spending the time trying to fix him. He heard the whiskey glass hitting the wall, and saw the frightened look on her face, all over again. He had committed an unforgivable sin. And still, she held his pieces.

Victor jumped off his bed and walked to the kitchen to get some water. Part of him wanted her to be there, he didn’t want to be alone. But at the same time, another part wished she had become wiser and just left him. He couldn’t make her happy, he was too broken. And he was afraid eventually he would break her too. Broken glasses don’t stand in the cupboard like the others. They are disposed of. That’s what he deserved.

But not what he got.

She looked spent, her dark circles standing out on her fair complexion, her curls disheveled and held in an updo with a pencil, some kind of voodoo only Andrea could accomplish. She was focused on her laptop screen, occasionally typing with one hand, the other touching her forehead, like she always did when she felt overwhelmed. She looked like a fragile crystal, the slightest vibration enough to shatter her.

“You’re awake.” She was startled by his presence. “How are you feeling?”

“You’re here.” You shouldn’t be. I’m a waste of your time.

“Of course I am.” She got up, turning to the stove, opening the pot standing there. “It’s late, Owen already had dinner and went to bed, but I have some stew for you. You should eat.”

Owen. Victor recalled again his frightened voice, panicking on the phone. He could only imagine how that small child had spent his day: anxious, scared, traumatized, worried about his father, who was too weak to keep it together. “You just have to make a scene, don’t you?” He heard his father’s voice again.

“How is he?”

“He was scared at first, but I told him you were still processing what happened.” She gave him a faint smile. “He’s really insightful for his age, I think he understood.”

“What about your trip?” You should stay away from me. Both of you will be happier away from me.

“I canceled it. You are unwell, we can go some other time.”

Victor’s stomach turned with self-loathing. Worse than any insult was the thought of someone staying by his side because he was weak, especially if he didn’t deserve the sympathy.

“You should go. I’m fine.” Victor turned to the door, wanting to get away from Andrea as fast as possible. The sight of what he had and what he had lost was simply unbearable.

“I already told you I’m not going anywhere. I love you, Victor.”

The statement felt like a heavy rock falling into a pond, agitating the waters inside him. Victor froze in place, unsure of how to answer. He loved her more than anything, but he didn’t deserve another chance. It was clearly over between them, yet he couldn’t say it. He was a coward. Tears started rolling down his face, as he stood in silence, his back turned to her, keeping his distance, but also selfishly refusing to release her.

For the second time that day, loving hands held the back of his neck, pulling him to a warm embrace, and then all hell broke loose. Tears quickly turned into hysterical sobs, as emotions broke out of him like a tsunami, spilling all over. He leaned against his wife and accepted her reassurance, even though he knew he shouldn’t get it. If only he could have her forgiveness.

“I’m sorry.” He croaked as the retching sobs made his legs wobble, making him kneel on the floor. “I’m so sorry.”

Victor wasn’t sure who he was really apologizing to, there was so much unsaid in his heart. Maybe it was to his mother, for not being the child that she wanted, the one that would make her stay. Or perhaps he was apologizing to Mina, for not honoring like she deserved, for not saying he loved her or holding her hand in her last moments. But mostly, he was apologizing to Andrea. For disappointing her. For not being the kind loving man she believed him to be all along.

All at once, Victor was an adult and a child, and both were crying in Andrea’s arms. A memory of long before came to mind. The smell of polished wood and silver, the echo of the large hallway, suitcases on the floor. His child self, holding his mother, fighting the tears. The words he wouldn’t say to her came, at last, twenty years later, for the love of his life.

“Please don’t leave me.” He sobbed. “Please.”

Her embrace tightened.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Her arms felt like a loving home, where he could be safe. Her voice was so sweet in his ears, her hands so warm in his back, her heartbeat so soothing. So, for the first time in decades, Victor decided to surrender, lay down the sword and simply stop fighting. He held onto her and cried, facing the storm of his emotions, hoping he would come out whole in the end. He just felt so tired. Surrendering seemed to be his only option.

Victor cried enough for a lifetime. All that was inside him, thirty years’ worth of pain erupted in hysterical sobs, landing as salty water on Andrea’s sweater, and he couldn’t stop it. He cried of fear for his kidnapping, of sadness for his mother’s departure, of anguish for her and Mina’s death. He cried for all those times he felt utterly lonely and unloved, for all those times he felt angry for being unable to draw people closer. For all his moments of self-loathing and despair. By the time he was done, he was exhausted. And scared. Scared that if he let her go, he would lose her forever. Afraid that if she stopped holding his broken pieces, he would fall to the ground to never get up.

So Victor simply lingered on Andrea’s embrace, wanting to enjoy a little more of her tenderness, as he knew it would be short-lived.

“We need to talk.” She announced, and Victor promptly left her arms, sitting against the kitchen island, creating the necessary distance. He prepared himself for the worse.

“I’m sorry for the glass.” He blurted out, fearing he would lose his courage if he waited for too long. “I hate that you saw this side of me.”

“What side?” She frowned.

“My ugly side.” His voice tightened. “But I need you to know I could never hurt you that way. I would never do that to you.”

“I know that!” She hurried to answer. “I do, it’s just…” She trailed off with a long sigh.

You can’t live with a violent man. Just say it.

“I pushed you into it. It was a cheap blow to mention your parents.”

Victor turned his eyes to her in surprise.

“I know you didn’t mean it, I-”

“Could you just listen?” She interrupted him.

Victor turned his eyes to the ground, obediently waiting for her to continue.

“I was hurt. And furious. I wanted you to hurt as much as I was, so I used something that you shared with me in our intimacy, knowing fully well how deep it would go, forgetting that you were acting that way because you were hurting too.”

Victor sighed, at a loss for words. How could he hold anything against her? None of them had acted in an honorable way.

“I have an ugly side too.” She muttered.

Silence filled the kitchen again, and Victor stared at Andrea’s hand, wanting to take it. There was so much he wanted to tell her, but he feared he wasn’t entitled to anymore, or that more words would just lead to more strife. He was done bruising her, he had done so much of that already.

“Victor… I really want things to be well again.”

The words caught up in his throat. He wanted it too, more than anything. But he wasn’t entitled to ask.

“Look, I know that you have been through a lot, and I can’t possibly imagine what you are feeling right now.” She jumped, kneeling in front of him, her hand taking his, while her eyes gazed at his earnestly. “And I know you are not the kind of guy that goes around talking about feelings, and I don’t need you to… That is something you should do at your own pace.”

Victor’s heartbeat quickened, wondering what she would say next. He desperately needed to make amends, he desperately needed her by his side, he desperately needed her consent in holding her and having her again. At this point, whatever she asked, he would do. He loved his light, and he needed her, like he needed air to breathe.

“But you need to know, no, you need to acknowledge I’m here. Because I am, and I always will be. I need you to know that, even if we disagree, I won’t leave your side. And if you fall, even if you don’t hold on to me, I will hold on to you, do you understand? I’ll never let go of you.”

His fingers caressed hers, so small in comparison.

“The only reason I mentioned that trip was because I felt my presence was hurting you. Victor, for the last few days, all I wanted was to be by your side, to love you and support you. I don’t even care about our fights, or what was said, we should stick together no matter what!” She squeezed his hand tighter. “This is the closest I have been to you in days! I missed you!”

Victor couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled her to his arms and kissed her, with an urgency of someone who had been starving for love for days. When he broke the kiss, he held her tightly, his face buried in the nape of her neck, wanting to have as much from her as he could.

“I missed you too.” He spoke against her skin.

“Are we ok?”

“I want us to be.”

She smiled at him, and that’s when he noticed. While he had been crying, she had been crying too.

“I’m sorry.” He hurried to apologize again, seeing the full effects of his actions on the woman he loved. “I will be better, I will never hurt you like this again. I promise.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” She caressed his bangs. “This is something we both do, you know.”

He watched her shift in place as she seemingly organized her thoughts.

“Do you remember when we came back from Switzerland?”

He remembered, yes. Her being in unbearable pain, pushing him away, while he tried to comfort her. And then it dawned on him. He had done the same.

“You and I are not that different.” She let out a sad chuckle. “We both need to be in control, to always keep our feelings in check, so we bottle them up. But we are a couple now, we are not alone anymore. We should learn to depend on each other. Do you think you can do that? Can you trust me enough for that?”

“I trust you with my life, Andy.” He was an idiot. He let all of his childhood insecurities take so much relevance these days, that he actually forgot the woman he was married to. He didn’t need her to tell him she loved him and she would always be there for him, he knew she was loyal. He knew she loved him. How could he have forgotten that?

“Wait, I have an idea.” She broke free from his arms, taking out her wedding ring.

“What are you doing?” He frowned, confused.

“Give me yours.” She instructed. “Here’s mine.”

Victor removed his wedding ring, handing it to her. She took his left hand and inserted the wedding band halfway through his ring finger.

“We keep talking about renewing our wedding vows, but you know what? We shouldn’t do it when things are easy. We should do it when things are hard.”

Victor watched her take a solemn deep breath before speaking again.

“I, Andrea, renew my commitment to you, Victor. My love for you grows with each day, and I truly believe we can overcome whatever comes our way, as long as we are together.” She lifted her eyes to him. “And I am sorry I hurt you. I love you more than I can possibly say. You are the love of my life.”

Victor smiled as he saw her gently gazing at him with affection in her eyes. And miraculously, all of his shards were put back together again. He took her hand, hoping he would be able to convey what was in his heart.

“I, Victor, renew my commitment to you, Andrea. You are the light of my life. I promise to always keep my eyes on you, and search for you when in need. I have no other place to be, but beside you.” He felt a few tears coming again. “And I am sorry. I’m sorry I ignored you.”

“For better or worse, we are in this together.” She affirmed, her eyes locked on his.

“For better or worse, we are in this together.” He promised with all his heart.

He pulled her to his lap, kissing her lips, their bodies pressed against each other in a warm hug, Victor losing himself in their embrace. Their bodies fit beautifully together. Sometimes they would hold each other so close that Victor could no longer tell where her skin began and his ended, so perfectly united that they truly felt like one.

It reminded him of Kintsugi. Golden leaf and glass shards are useless apart but when united with the patience only real love can bring, they can make beautiful art. It was indeed a fitting analogy. Andrea held his pieces together and made him whole. Patiently, she had picked each one of his shards, unfazed by the cuts they brought, and put them all together.

His wife chuckled against his chest, and it was the most beautiful sound in the world. To hear Andrea laugh once again, while being held by him, was priceless.

“What is it?” He couldn’t help but chuckle as well. Her laughter was contagious.

“The time we spent planning where we would renew our wedding vows, and we ended up doing it on our kitchen floor.” She laughed.

“Well, we did want it to be meaningful.” He smiled, playing with one of her curls. “No place is more meaningful than this. We spent most of our happy moments in this kitchen.”

“Well, if we follow that line of thought, next year we could use the bedroom.” She smiled back.

“I said happy, not lewd.” He poked her nose, making her laugh again. “Any place will do, as long as you are there.”

“I feel the same.” She sighed, motioning to get up. “Maybe we should get up from the floor, you must be hungry and your buttocks must be getting numb.”

“We will in a minute.” He pulled her against him again. “Just a little while longer.”

She leaned against his chest, arms circling his waist, and he held her back, again marveled at how flawlessly they fit. He kissed her neck, lingering on her skin, taking a bit more of her scent. He held her as tight as he could, drinking from her love, letting her gold seep through his cracks.

Author's Note: This project has been going for a year now (it started in February 2020) and it won't be over any time soon, so I would like to ask you, as much as possible, for your support, because we still have a very long way to go. So, if you enjoy the work, don't forget to comment and reblog. It gives it traction and enables other people to learn about it, and for me to get more excited about what I do.

#victor mldd #angsty victor #mlqc victor #love and producer fanfic #li zeyan #Growing Pains - Series #growingtogether #victor x oc

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bluejayblueskies · 3 years

Note

Could you do "things you said at 1 am" for MarTim? Romantic or platonic is good. I'm loving all these prompt fics so much!

warning for some discussion of canon-typical worms

Tim sets the box of Martin’s things at the foot of the cot in document storage and makes a show of shaking out his arms and hands, even though it really hadn’t been that heavy. Mostly clothes and toiletries and other necessary amenities—though Tim had snuck in a small faux-leather notebook and a picture frame depicting a family he assumed to be Martin’s standing in front of the sea. Martin couldn’t have been more than five in the picture, but Tim recognized his auburn curls and button nose.

If Martin’s going to be stuck in the Archives for the foreseeable future, he may as well have something personal to keep him company, Tim figures. So, he’d packed it away, gathered the rest of the items on the list Martin had provided him with, and brought it all back to the Archives. Sasha was already gone by the time he arrived, and Jon’s office door was shut, though a thin line of light escaped from below it.

He’s been working later and later, Tim’s noticed. And if the cot already tucked away in document storage is anything to go by, he’s also been spending less and less time at his flat.

“There we are,” Tim says, flashing Martin a warm smile. “You’re all set to live in the company of hundreds of years’ worth of dusty documents. Not exactly bedtime stories—unless you prefer the spooky sort—but, you know…”

Tim trails off with a small shrug. There’s an ache beneath it, one that grows stronger when Martin curls in on himself slightly and says, “Better than the worms.”

“Yeah,” Tim says, and some of it leaks out—a guilt so thick it hurts his teeth. Two weeks, and he hadn’t even thought to check on Martin.

“We would have come,” Tim finds himself saying, quiet yet too-loud in the space between them. “If we’d have known, we would have come.”

“I know,” Martin says, his words ragged around the edges. “It- it’s okay.”

“No,” Tim says, surprised at the conviction in his voice. “It’s not. You were trapped for two weeks by a worm-infested woman and- and we just took her word that you were out sick.” Tim feels revulsion bubbling up within him, a sickening nausea. “I texted her. I thought it was you, and I- I was sending her the things I would send you, little jokes and pictures I thought you’d like and offering to come over. But every time, you said no. Said you didn’t want me to get sick, and it was such a you thing to say that I just accepted it! After a week, I should have just come by, if only to see if you needed- Christ, groceries or something.”

Martin hugs his arms tighter to himself. “I’m glad you didn’t,” he says, barely more than a whisper. “I- I don’t know what would have happened if you did.”

Tim knows that Martin’s right. He’d probably be dead. Or worse. Still, he can’t shake the feeling that if he’d just cared enough to check in, Martin wouldn’t have that scared, haunted look on his face that he’s trying very hard to hide. “Yeah,” Tim says, that same guilt laced into his words. “You’re probably right. Doesn’t make it better, though.”

Martin just nods. For a moment, they stand there in silence. Tim doesn’t know what to do, how to make it better. He hadn’t been there for Martin when he’d been trapped and alone and terrified, but he’s here now. He’s here, but he’s never been good at comforting people, at smoothing the pain from someone’s face or knowing the right words to chase away fear and sadness.

So, eventually, Tim shrugs off his jacket, folds it on top of the box, and says, “You know, I have some playing cards stashed away in my desk, as well as quite an impressive selection of crisps and chocolates. I have to tell you, though—I’ve never lost a match of Go Fish.”

Martin’s eyes when they meet Tim’s are wide with surprise. “What?”

Tim shrugs and smiles, a practiced motion that keeps him grounded even when pain and sadness threaten to tear him apart. He hopes it does the same for Martin. “Thought we’d make a night of it. A good old-fashioned sleepover, if you will.”

“Why—?” Martin cuts off, shakes his head once. When he speaks again, his voice is cracked down the middle. “You- you don’t have to stay, Tim. I’ll be fine.”

“I know,” Tim says, a bit of that guilt pushing into the edges of his words again despite his best efforts to keep it hidden. He lets it take over, for just a moment, and says, “I thought you might not want to be alone. And I’ve been told that I’m excellent company.”

Martin lets out a small, shaky laugh. “Do they?” he says, humored, and something warm spreads through Tim’s chest, nestling next to his heart. “I- I suppose… I’d like that.” He nods hesitantly and repeats, “I’d like that.”

Tim flashes Martin another grin before heading off to retrieve the cards.

They stay up late, into the very early morning even as exhaustion drags Tim’s eyelids down with every passing hour. Tim’s always liked spending time with Martin—on Friday nights at the pub or on the occasional movie night or even just in passing, taking a moment to chat at Martin’s desk before moving on to his own work. He finds himself moving closer and closer to Martin as the night wears on until their thighs are pressed together as they lean against the wall, the cards laying forgotten on the floor in front of them as they just talk. About frivolous things, like the kinds of flowers Tim likes and Martin’s favorite pastries. About personal things, like Martin’s visits to his mother in the home and Tim’s brief affair with Sasha.

The clock rolls over into single digits, and Martin says, quietly, “I lied on my CV.”

Tim looks over at him. His hands are fidgeting in his lap, but his mouth is set into a thin, determined line, like he’d been working himself up to this for a very long time. Martin must sense Tim’s eyes on him because he continues unprompted, “I- I mentioned that my mother is in a home, and- and she’s been unwell for quite some time, so I had to drop out of school when I was 17 to support us. Didn’t have time or the qualifications for a degree, but I needed the money, and- and nowhere was hiring, so I- I faked my credentials. Said I had a master’s in business or English or history—anything that might get me a job that paid enough to support us. For some reason, my lie about parapsychology got me an interview with Elias, and then… he hired me.” Martin sucks in a small, shaky breath. “I- I’m only 29.”

Tim’s reeling a bit. He doesn’t really know what to say—what can he say? Eventually, what comes out is, “You’ve been here since you were 22? Without a degree?” He turns so he can face Martin fully and says, completely serious, “Martin, that’s amazing.”

Martin flushes a bright crimson. “I- I don’t really think it’s- I mean, it’s not really something that I earned—”

Tim puts his hand on Martin’s knee, and Martin’s mouth snaps shut. “To jump straight into an academic job without any prior knowledge? Yeah, maybe it’s not conventional, but it doesn’t negate the fact that you’re just as good a researcher as me and Sasha.”

Martin’s flush grows deeper, and he mumbles, “Yeah, I- I guess.”

Martin’s hands begin to twist around each other again, an uncomfortable gesture, and after a moment’s hesitation, Tim takes one of Martin’s hands in his, trying to offer support and reassurance in the brush of his fingers against Martin’s. He hears the way Martin’s breath hitches as he does so, and affection curls in his stomach. “I’m glad you told me,” Tim says sincerely. “And I hope you know that I’m not going to tell anybody, not unless you want me to.”

Martin shakes his head firmly. “No, I- I really don’t want to be fired. I, er. I kind of need this job.” He lets out a small noise that could almost be a groan if it weren’t so laced with nerves. “Christ, if Jon found out. After the dog incident, I- I think he’d just fire me on the spot.”

“Or maybe,” Tim says, “it might finally convince him to stop berating you for every little mistake.”

“Tim,” Martin says, pleading.

“I’m not going to tell him,” Tim says softly, squeezing Martin’s hand once more to firmly convey his point. “I promise.”

The tension in Martin’s shoulders bleeds out, and he sighs heavily. “Thank you. For- for everything, I suppose.” He pauses a moment before saying, quieter, “For- for this. For staying with me.”

Tim knocks his shoulder against Martin’s and then makes the split-second decision to leave it there, pressed against Martin’s. “Yeah, of course,” he says lightly. “We’re friends.”

“Friends,” Martin echoes, like the word’s unfamiliar on his tongue. After a moment, he squeezes Tim’s hand in return and leans more firmly into Tim’s side. His curls brush against the shell of Tim’s ear, and Tim has the sudden desire to feel Martin’s lips against him, ghosting across his jawline and light against his temple. For a moment, he considers asking—taking Martin’s hand and raising it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to Martin’s knuckles and his palm and the inside of his wrist.

He doesn’t. Instead, he gives Martin a wide smile and says, “I like you, Martin. Me and Sasha and- and even Jon, I bet, underneath all that prickliness.” He gives in to his desires, just a bit, and lets his free hand come up to the side of Martin’s face, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. “How could we not?”

Martin’s cheek is hot beneath Tim’s hand, and he can feel the motion of Martin’s jaw as he says, quietly, “I… I like you too.”

“Flatterer,” Tim says. He loves the way Martin’s smile at that feels against his palm.

They go to sleep soon after, Martin flat on his back on the cot and Tim sprawled on top of him despite Martin’s protests that we’re not both going to fit, Tim, the cot’s not really built for two. Tim can feel the motion of Martin’s chest as he breathes; he wants to curl up into Martin’s side and stay there forever.

“Goodnight,” Tim mumbles, sleep already overtaking him. Maybe that’s why he lets his lips brush against Martin’s cheek as he says it, a slight enough motion that he doesn’t know if Martin feels it.

He’s not awake for long enough to know for sure. But with the feeling of Martin beneath him, soft and warm and safe, he doesn’t really mind either way.

#tma #tma fic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fic #martim #martin blackwood #tim stoker #my fic #my writing #christ another 1.8k 'ficlet'#i am apparently incapable of writing short things (esp. short angst)#anyway hope you enjoy some s1 emotional hurt/comfort ft. pining tim :)

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just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot · 4 years

Text

Soulmate September - Day 5

Day 5 - Any intense emotions your soulmate feels you will also experience.

Pairing(s): Romantic Logicality, Background Romantic Prinxiety

TWs: Suicide Mention near the end, swearing, talk of death, anger issues perhaps? let me know if I missed anything!

–

Ever since the day he burst into a hysterical giggle fit out of the blue in the middle of his very first recess, Logan Faraday could tell his soulmate would be a handful.

Of course, this initial outburst had already cost Logan any chances of socialising; soulmate or not, it’s hard to convince other children that you’re not crazy when you very suddenly laughed in their face mid sand castle construction. Needless to say, the only upside to that first recess was that he could work on said sand castle by himself. Yes, that was an upside. At least, Logan convinced himself it was.

Logan preferred to keep his emotions rather modest, not initially to save his soulmate from a similar ostracisation as he had suffered, but simply because he preferred it that way. Were there moments that he felt intense emotions regardless? Certainly. For his ninth birthday, his fathers had caved and bought him a telescope, a gift he used to this day despite it’s child-sized inefficiency. At the time it was a fleeting thought, but as he watched the stars while his fathers both pointed out constellations - and occasionally bantered back and forth over any inaccuracies - Logan wondered if his soulmate felt his love and passion for the stars. If they could feel how much the gift had meant to him. The thought was one Logan allowed to slip away at the time, only to receive a feeling of pure joy immediately after. As much as his soulmate’s overly excitable emotions could cause him all kinds of trouble, Logan couldn’t help but hope deep down that his soulmate was so happy because he was happy.

Logan went to sleep that night feeling like a bright newborn star…

Years of spontaneous happiness and excitement was something Logan was used to; sudden, unstoppable sadness was not.

“Logan?”, his science teacher had inquired concernedly, “Is everything alright?”

Logan hadn’t realised he was crying profusely until he looked down at his notebook to be greeted by a wet splatter causing his notes to spread out in a blue flower of sorrow. He wiped at his eyes initially, ignoring the awful sad feeling in his chest, spouting a near monotone, “I’m fine.”, though the tears didn’t stop. Out of the corner of his quickly blurring sight, Logan could see his classmates talking. Whispering among themselves. About the situation. About him.

His teacher hadn’t needed to ask again before Logan packed his bag, simply offering, “Actually I feel rather unwell. I’ll go to the nurses office. Excuse me.”, before he all but ran out of his classroom.

Why? Why couldn’t his soulmate stop crying!?

Logan made a beeline for the nearest bathroom, locking himself in a stall to let his soulmate’s emotions pour out their sorrows in peace. Unwavering sadness, a cocktail of fear and helplessness stirred in there too for good measure. If Logan had felt more empathetic at the time, he’d have tried to understand his soulmate’s obvious distress. But he was only a teenager. A stupid, angry, hormone-addled teenager with more frustration than sense who lashed out instead. Why didn’t his soulmate understand what they were putting him through?! Why couldn’t they just stop making him embarrass himself?! Didn’t they understand how he felt?!

“WHY CAN’T YOU STOP MAKING ME FEEL LIKE THIS?!”, Logan yelled as he kicked at the stall walls and doors in frustration as the tears just kept coming. In fact, they seemed to worsen the angrier Logan got until he was a sobbing mess on the dirty bathroom floor. With no signs of the tears stopping, Logan wrenched his notebook out of his bag, flipping to the last page and scrawling out a quick note before he would leave to go be sent home by the nurse,

“Ask Soulmate About:

April 13th 20XX: debilitating sadness, unstoppable crying, demand explanation”

Logan never told his parents exactly why he was home early, brushing off his fathers’ concern with a simple, “I felt unwell and couldn’t focus”, as he ascended the stairs to his room to spend the rest of the night stargazing, hoping to drive away his earlier outburst. Instead, Logan felt overwhelming guilt. His soulmate was bawling their heart out and he’d answered them with anger. Irrational, illogical, rage that they didn’t deserve. Now Logan felt nothing from his soulmate as he lay in his bed and wished - oh how he wished - he could’ve relived the day just so he could properly comfort his soulmate instead of lashing out at them like a snarling animal. But he couldn’t. And he’d have to live with that forever.

Logan went to sleep that night feeling like a monster…

Over the next three years, Logan had slowly become convinced that his soulmate was dead. He had heard rumours; people who found out their soulmate had died some time after they had stopped feeling anything from them. The thought was terrifying to Logan. Outwardly, he tried not to let the thought consume him; people die every day, they come and go, and no one has control over the how or when. There were times when Logan was sure he felt something. Just the tiniest twinge of an emotion, but the feeling would be gone so fast, he was sure he was just imagining things. By the time he turned 18, Logan had accepted that his soulmate must have died. And the last thing they’d potentially felt from Logan was his seething anger and resentment.

What a goddamn fool he had been.

At nineteen, Logan had been accepted into his top choice college and quickly began establishing a routine; he’d wake up at 6 am, ignore his roommate, Roman, loudly announcing his love for his soulmate to the mirror, walk across campus to his classes, have lunch with classmates, then return to his dormitory where he would indulge in either more studying or the occasional movie or game night with Roman. It kept his mind focused and allowed very little time for him to dwell on unpleasant thoughts.

Expectedly, his routine was shattered to pieces. Knowing Roman’s need to be spontaneous, he hadn’t expected it to take three months, but oh well.

“Let me get this straight-”

“Good luck with that!”, Roman had finger gunned back at Logan, who rubbed his temples like they could smooth out the stress that was building up by the second, “Let me be sure I understand you.”, he rephrased through gritted teeth, “You decided that, without my knowledge and completely throwing out any semblance of social etiquette, that you would not only invite your soulmate-”

“Boyfriend.”, Roman corrected, preferring that label for some reason. Logan rolled his eyes annoyedly.

“Your boyfriend, to come over and join in our game and or movie night and are just now telling me that I will simply have to, as you put it, ‘deal with it’?”

Logan watched Roman nervously rub the side of his neck, “Well, kind of.”

“Kind of? In what way has this ridiculous arrangement of yours changed to further inconvenience me?”, Logan snapped a little too viciously before he could catch himself. Roman was ready to answer him when a knock arrived at the door. Perhaps it was spite, perhaps it was to let the unwelcome guest know just how much he was intruding on Logan’s routine - though to be honest, Virgil was actually rather pleasant - either way, the enraged man stormed over to the door and hauled it open, “Greetings, make yourself-”

The words died in his throat.

The man standing at the door definitely wasn’t Virgil. Strawberry blonde hair, slightly sunkissed skin, round silver framed glasses, a baby blue polo and tan shorts… definitely not Virgil. Logan stared for probably a little too long before the young man spoke up,

“Um, are you okay? Logan, right? Virgil and Roman have told me about you!”, he held out a hand to shake Logan’s, his smile blinding, “I’m Patton!”

Logan ignored the tiny phantom emotion that poked at his soul and opted to step aside and let Patton in, “It’s nice to meet you, Patton. I apologise for my…. Aggressive demeanor.”, he admitted, ignoring Roman’s guilty glance to ask, “I was informed Virgil would be joining us?”

“Oh! He’ll be a little late,”, Patton sheepishly explained, “He’s uh, he’s still picking out a shirt to wear.”

Roman seemed all too eager as he valiantly proclaimed, “Then I shall go forth to my dark and stormy knight, and help him pick one out! Logan, be a good host for our dear friend Patton!”

Before either of the two could protest, Roman took off down the hallway. Logan sighed, “Please, make yourself at home, Patton. It may be up to an hour before they’re done.”

“An hour to pick a shirt?”, Patton looked so confused. Logan clapped a hand to his mouth. Oh this poor sweet innocent bean. He wasn’t sure what to do, but he needn’t have bothered as it appeared it had finally sunken in. “OH.” Patton flushed bright red, sitting on the sofa, mortified. Logan was stifling a chuckle so hard, he almost missed the foreign feeling of embarrassment growing within him. On a reflex, Logan tried to will the feeling away. His soulmate was dead, it must be his own embarrassment, therefore. It persisted for a moment until Logan was wrenched from his inner struggle by Patton, “Are you alright, Logan?”.

Ah, that’s right. He had company. Logan nodded and sat down next to Patton on the sofa. He would have sat on his own but he felt awkward doing so when it was just he and Patton alone. He didn’t want Pat to feel like he was avoiding him.

“I’m fine, Patton. Would you like me to play something on netflix?”, he offered, picking up the remote.

Patton grinned mischievously, clearly about to make an awful joke. “Logan, are you asking me to netflix an-” “NO-!”, Logan’s face burned bright red, but he quickly rushed to reassure Patton as the shorter man recoiled, “No, I mean, I’m not attempting to ‘netflix and chill’ with you. I’m-”

Patton stopped him, his expression unreadable for a second, “It’s alright! I understand, it was just a joke, I promise!”. Logan nodded, trying to power through the intense attraction he had begun to feel. It felt so odd being able to feel an emotion so strongly without his soulmate. Or perhaps…. Was he wrong? Had he been wrong the whole time? No. No, how could someone suppress intense emotions for almost three years now? He needed to stop betting against his logic just because an attractive man was staring at him.

…. Why was Patton staring at him?

“..... Do I have something on my face, Patton?”, Logan questioned.

Patton bit his lip worriedly at first; apparently mulling over what he was going to say first, “This uh, might be a little bit personal to ask so soon, but...”, he paused, fiddling with his shirt, “Have you found your soulmate yet?”

Ah. Logan hadn’t anticipated that question, but he wasn’t surprised by it either. He eyed Patton for a moment, unsure as to whether he wanted to be fully honest with him. For some reason, Logan felt he could confide in Patton.

“No. I haven’t. If I’m being entirely honest, I have reason to believe they may have...”, a deep breath, “...passed.”

The sorrow in Patton’s gaze could’ve put Logan in the ground with his soulmate. Such beautiful eyes shouldn’t be tainted by mourning. Before Logan could apologise, Patton took a sharp breath, meeting his gaze somewhat guiltily, “I… How can you be sure? Do you think...possibly... your soulmate might be alive?”. The insistence in Patton’s tone had Logan hoping he was right. Four years of convincing himself his soulmate was gone for good wouldn’t leave immediately, but for Patton, he wanted to indulge the idea.

“If they are, I owe them a rather lengthy apology.”

The young man in front of him tilted his head in confusion which prompted Logan to continue, he’d told him so much already, why not open up some more? “My soulmate was- is,”, he corrected, earning a petit smile of encouragement from Patton, “rather a happy soul. They’d burst into figurative fits of laughter and joy almost daily. As a result, I never made many friends. The other children found it bizarre, they treated me like an anomaly.”

He took a deep breath in. It took a second for Logan to take note of Patton’s hand resting over his; to encourage him, surely, nothing more… “I never paid my outcast status much heed, I..”

Patton leant slowly closer and Logan felt it again; that psychosomatic feeling of intense adoration. Or perhaps… “... I never realised how lonely I felt.”, Logan continued quietly, acutely aware of the emotions spreading within his chest as Patton’s fingers intertwined with his own, “Genuinely, I never thought about it, I was so content to just enjoy my happiest times for what they were. The first time I felt true happiness, I lay in my bed and I hoped. I hoped my soulmate could feel how happy I was, and I felt them.”. Logan was hit with a wave of overwhelming fondness mixing with his nerves. Patton looked so, so happy, but..

“... Then, I ruined everything.”, Logan continued somberly, attempting to slip his hand from Patton’s hold, but instead Patton held firm, anxious and eager to know what happened it seemed. “A few years after, I was sitting in science class when my soulmate felt this…. This unimaginable sadness. I couldn’t contain my tears, and no matter where I looked, my classmates were staring at me. Like I was even more of an oddity than they already thought me to be.”. While the feeling of deep affection flowered within his chest, Logan felt that same sadness sewing its seeds among the roots. Of all the times to potentially feel his soulmate’s emotions once more, that was the one thing Logan had never, ever, wanted to feel again.

“I lashed out, alone in the school’s bathroom.“, his hand slid free of Patton’s before the shorter man could react, threading itself in Logan’s dark hair as his anxiety grew, “I allowed my anger to warp my emotions and I lost control. My soulmate was-!”, his breathing hitched, ��They were hurting! They were in pain, Patton! But I spent so long in that stall just, yelling such awful things-!”

As if he couldn’t further relive that same trauma, Logan hadn’t realised he was crying until Patton gently caressed the tears from his cheeks. He softly murmured, “It’s okay, keep going. Please. I think… I may need to hear this...”

Logan found that the words wouldn’t come. Perhaps he’d known since he laid eyes on Patton but was just so deep in denial that he convinced himself he couldn’t be so lucky. Perhaps he’d put it together when Patton’s reactions aligned with his twinges of emotion, but didn’t want to believe that he was facing the soulmate he’d so callously lashed out at in his time of need, and treated as though he had passed on to make himself feel better. Either way, Logan could no longer run from the facts; just looking into Patton’s beautiful eyes, those honey gold galaxies that complimented the deep cerulean of Logan’s own, he knew that Pat had already worked it out. With their close proximity, Logan rested his head on Patton’s shoulder, murmuring barely above a whisper,

“...Why?”, Logan’s dulcet tone came in softly, “Why were you crying that day? April 13th, almost four years ago...”

Patton’s voice was as gentle on his ears as his fingers threading through his hair, even as it sounded like his heart was breaking, “My cousin tried to kill themself.” Logan felt his heart shatter for good this time. He could barely stop his arms wrapping firmly around Patton as he reassured him. Reassured him. Like Logan had any right to be the one who needed comfort. “It’s alright, Logan, they’re okay! They’re fine now, but it was… I was really scared back then. I was the only one home at the time.”. Patton took a breath, “Like I said, they’re alright now. They’re married and everything-”

“I’m so sorry.”, Logan couldn’t hear it. No, he wouldn’t hear it. Patton was banned from reassuring him when Logan should be begging for Patton’s forgiveness instead. “You …. You needed me. And I repaid your cry for help with such anger. You were hurting, Patton!”, his hands gently held Patton’s soft cheeks in their palms, “You were hurting-! And I-!”

“You couldn’t have known, Logan-”

“I knew enough! I knew you were in pain, for goodness sakes, Patton, I could feel it! I couldn’t stop crying for almost a full hour! I felt the same fear and sorrow you felt, but I-!”

Patton gently pressed his delicate fingertips to Logan’s lips.

“And I repaid your attempt to apologise with spite.”

Met with a confused expression, Patton continued, “I… Your anger did hurt me. I won’t lie to you, I could never lie to you. But I was so hurt, by the time I could feel your guilt, I… I’d resigned myself to stop feeling intense emotions ever again.”. The sad smile Patton presented made Logan wish magic existed, just so he could banish anything that made Patton sad to the dark recesses of space forever.

“At first, it really was just... sheer spite. You weren’t the only hormonal teenage disaster, Logan.”

The curt laugh that dragged itself out of Logan was so jarring, he himself didn’t know where it had come from, but Patton was just so happy that he felt comfortable enough to do so, continuing on, “I was only going to stop for a week at most really, but I got too inside my own head. Maybe I am a burden. Maybe I am just causing him trouble with all my emotions. Maybe I should stop causing trouble and being such a nuisance. But if I’d-... If I’d known you thought that I was dead-! That you thought all this time you were alone I-”

Logan didn’t let him finish. Gently silencing Patton with a soft tap of fingertips to lips so soft they felt how Logan imagined an angel’s would feel, Logan softly leant forward to press his own lips to Patton’s. While Logan knew nothing he did could truly make up for the pain he caused Patton, the very least he could do was show that he very much needed no apologies from his soulmate.

Their kiss was shorter than either would have liked - due to the interruption of their roommates walking in to find them lost in the moment - but Logan couldn’t say it wasn’t as perfect as he’d hoped it could be.

Hours later, as another game night drew to a close with both Virgil and Patton spending the night with their respective soulmates, Logan held Patton closer as the shorter man curled into Logan’s body heat.

As he brushed a loving hand through beautiful strawberry blonde curls and admired the sleeping face of the young man in his arms, Logan went to sleep that night feeling happier than he had in years..

------------

I’m ready for people to stab me for this one lmao.. @tsshipmonth2020

Taglist [ask to be included]: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses

#logicality #prinxiety #logan sanders #patton sanders #soulmate september #roman sanders #virgil sanders #my fics #fanfics #tsshipmonth2020 #I really just went ham on this huh #logan #patton #roman #virgil

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castielsangelsx · 4 years

Text

I See You (Ivar x Blind!Reader) Part 2

A.N: request for @unabashedgentlemenpirate for a part 2 to I see you and others who have wanted a part where Ivar comes back!!!! Original request by @queenofthe-nerds. Let me know what you think!!

Summary: since Ivar has left, Kattegat has changed, a new queen has risen and another dead. you and Ivar’s relationship is tested as he returns, you find Ivar more lost than you imagined.

Part One

———————————————

Chaos. That was the best way to describe Kattegat after Ivar had departed for England with Ragnar. I had tried my hardest to stay near Aslaug, her comfort and guide were welcomed, and she was the closest thing, besides Ivar's brothers, that helped remind me of her youngest son.

The day Lagertha took Kattegat was the day I had lost Aslaug and found myself spending more time by the ocean. That's where I sat daily, waiting for the day Ivar would return. Life in Kattegat was more lonely than I had thought, Magrethe's company was boring.

So here I was, sitting at the edge of the shoreline with my feet in the sand and my ears on high alert at the sound of footsteps and horns blaring in the distance.

Boats.

I had dreamed of the day Ivar would return; in my mind, I envisioned I would be able to kiss him and feel him again. I missed his voice, and I knew that Ivar was not going to feel well to the news of his dead mother following these tough times. I had heard the disapproval of Ubbe and even Sigurd.

I knew that Ivar would not take lightly - considering he always took what he wanted. Revenge was no different. To be honest, I couldn't wait for that.

"Y/n!" Turning my head to the side, unable to pinpoint the sound's location, I recognize Ubbe's voice. "Ivar has returned... with the Christians."

"What?" Ubbe laughs lightly at my words.

"That is what I thought, he needs to see you first before we break the news. And I know how much you miss him, he too." You nodded at his words and giddily hopped up, Ubbe's arm bumped your own, and you linked yours with him for a guide. I usually carried a stick or went about with my instinct and hearing people's conversations, but human help was always welcome.

Ubbe guided me up off the sand and weaved me through the streets. His touch was gentle, a lot like Ivar's. Something I gathered Ubbe for, Sigurd and Hvitserk, were not so much willing and were harsher in their handling. Sigurd rushed a lot, causing a lot of unnecessary arguments with Ivar.

The grounds texture was much less rough from the gravel, it was smoother. The sound of the waves accompanied and affirmed me that the docks were at my feet. The tones were much more hushed in the docks than I had heard them, underlining the fact the Christians were here. The nerves built in my gut, I did not know where to focus my attention on.

Twisting my head to focus on the direct sounds coming from the rocking of the boat as Ubbe releases from my grip. My senses heightened in an attempt to guide my own self. I searched and wracked my brain for Ivar's voice or presence.

"Y/n?" Ivar. His voice was croaky and weak, and I stepped forward to continue and follow the sound of shuffling.

"Iva-." I am interrupted by Ubbe's voice, I recognize.

"We must bring him inside y/n, he is unwell, hold onto my arm." Feeling disheartened and anxiety-ridden, I grasp his elbow. His movements are much quicker, and his body is leaned at the the sound of Ivar's feet sounded to be dragging as I attempted to keep up with their long strides.

Making it to a makeshift hut, an area of Kattegat I was not too familiar with. The feeling of the walls was different, and the ground was much coarser in gravel than others.

Ubbe shakes off my arm, and I reach out for Ivar whos hands outstretch to grasp on my own. At an arms reach away, I rush towards him, wrapping my arms around his hunched form.

I imagined a tired Ivar, an Ivar who's traveled and experienced more than he should. Ivar weakly wraps his arm around my back as I grasp at his body firmly. Hoping to savor this moment, ensuring he couldn't get the chance to leave again.

---

Revealing to Ivar about the casualties that left Kattegat at the hands of the first wife of Ragnar and the death of his mother drove Ivar in a state of tension and anger. His hands never left my side after the news. Held at my hips or resting on my thigh.

We lay beside one another now, after Ivar had been given proper care by the healers. Ivar's presence soon calmed my previous nerves and anxieties that awaited his return. He was home, and that was what mattered most now, nothing else.

“Did they hurt you?” I asked, rubbing my hand along his stomach as I lie on my side with Ivar seemingly parallel to me. Ivar takes a deep breath, it fans my nose. He says nothing, though. His lack of conversation proves his internal struggle. Losing two members of the family is difficult, mainly to Ivar. “I am happy that you are safe,” filling in the gap from Ivar, I speak.

Ivar gives me no time to continue as he wraps his arm around my neck. I bask in his body warmth and comfort. His hand glides against my back, and I sigh in content.

“Lagertha will pay for what she has done,” I smile at his words.

“Of course Ivar, I will help.” he releases his grip, but his face nears mine as I feel the feeling of his lips closer to my own.

“I have missed you. I am grateful the gods have blessed me with such a perfect woman.” I feel the heat of cheeks rise, and warmth swallows my whole face at his words.

“Kattegat was lonely without you. After Lagertha, she had me moved to lay beside Margrethe in her chamber. No one in Kattegat is like you Ivar, they do not fill my heart like you do or understand me like you do.” Ivar’s cold palm runs over my cheek. His lips come closer to my own.

The softness engulfed me, the kiss was soft and gentle. Lasting only for a few seconds, we pull apart. We rest our heads comfortably in the bed we have chosen to share for the night in the smaller shack Lagertha has given them from prior living arrangements.

“I’ve missed this, Ivar,” you smile smugly at your words and move closer towards him.

“I see you.” He says, rubbing his thumb against my closed eyelid. “You have gotten more beautiful.” I shake my head and give a breath-like laugh.

“I see you, Ivar.” His lips meet my eyelid one after the other before he shifts closer and rests his hands. My own hands entangled with his own.

His hands were laced in my hair, a fistful of it in his hand. His cold fingers caused chills down my spine, it was calming nonetheless. His breaths fanned my face; my breaths matched his own as I rest my eyelids to sleep. Finally, next to Ivar, who I knew was mine forever. From tonight to the day, he proves to all of Kattegat who the Boneless can be.

TAGLIST: @youbloodymadgenius @gruffle1

#ivar #ivar imagine #ivar lothbrok #Ivar Bjørnson #vikings ivar #ivar x reader #ivar fanfic #vikings #vikings imagine #viking imagines #vikings x reader imagines #vikings ubbe

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inforapound · 4 years

Text

Two Faced

I wrote this for the writing challenge celebration for @geekandbooknerd and @fandomfic-galore. Congratulations you two. This is some dark Oleg shit.

Warnings: mentions fo abuse, mother issues, low self-worth

Words - 1,300

My situation could certainly be worse. Where I found myself and with whom was in no way part of my life’s plan. The reality was women like me, hunted since the dawn of time, were rarely given a choice. More days than not, I chose to live from a place of gratefulness. A place of nothing from where I could create who I wanted to be, always appreciating the comforts and security that so many were never granted. At least that is what I told myself when, each evening, who I would become was determined at the whim of a beast of a man.

I relied on the fact that Oleg was unpredictable. Never allowing myself to slip into complacency. I was poised and ready. The ever-stoic witness to his mayhem. To his darkest depravations, I was his enabler, less often a spectator but always his victim.

The note under the door told me how to prepare.

Mother, come to me. I feel unwell.

“Prince Oleg,” I whispered after closing the door from where I stood behind his chair in his private chambre.

The scent of spice and fruit was warm and inviting mixed with the smokiness of cedar burning in the fireplace. The room was lit by candles just enough to see the ornate furniture placed around the room. For a man so particular on the details of his surroundings; the colours of the drapery, the pattern of stitching on his quilted bedding, cloves not cinnamon in his mulled wine – he seemed blind to it all. Oblivious, always a prisoner of sorts to his own complicated mind.

Oleg was a force. He possessed great wisdom, with a memory like an iron trap with potent stamina for ruthlessness. Ever merciless. On this night, like few before, I could unknot and breath knowing I was his one weakness. Oleg loved his mother.

“Prince Oleg,” I repeated softly, cautious not to startle him.

Stirring in his chair, I could tell, even from behind that he sighed while staring into the fire.

“Mother, I hate when you refer to my title.” His tone was laced with impatience. “The fire is warm, come closer,” he added in a milder voice.

Walking around to face him, the severity of his features released as if he was surprised to see me standing there. I would never grow tired of that reaction. Always reminding me he was human.

“My dear boy, you look like you are fighting a battle in your mind.”

“I have done terrible things today, Mother.” Closing his eyes, he huffed air out through his nose. His mouth twisting with shame. Slamming his hand down onto the rest of his chair, he looked up. “These foolish men. They bring it upon themselves. Why mother?” he gawked, shaking his head, confused. “Why do they force me to be… unkind. It is terrible what they make me do. You know I hate this. It is all so brutal.”

There were no tears running down his cheeks, but the anguish was clear in his face. He felt victimized.

“No, none of this is fair. It is their doing.” I reassured. “No other man could carry such a burden. Come, my darling.” I held out my steady hand. Not a single tremor or shake to be seen. “Let me tuck you into bed. Tomorrow is a new day, and little cannot be made better with a good night’s sleep.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Guiding him by his hand to his bed, I undressed him, having him raise his arms into the air, as a child might, to slip on his nightclothes. Few people had seen him in this light, not even his dead wife.

With a delicate touch, I guided him to lay back, pulling the gold and rust dappled cover up to his chest. Without being asked, I knew tonight’s requirements. He needed tenderness and quiet and a mother’s love.

“Lie with me mummy,” he whispered in a small voice. His eyes round as if I might return to my room and leave him forgotten.

“Of course,” I whispered rounding the bed and climbing under the covers beside him. Careful to keep my relief from rising.

Within a moment he turned onto his side, pulling me close and wrapping me in his arms. Moving lower, he pushed me flat onto my back, resting his cheek against my bosom, relaxing to the rhythm of my heart and breathing.

“I love you, Mother.” He mumbled, melting closer to sleep as my fingers dragged lightly over his scalp.

“You are such sweet boy,” I hummed softly. “So brave and strong my darling Oleg. Such a good prince and you will be an even greater king. You will forever be my most beloved son. A gift from God, a Prophet, one who will rule over....”

He was asleep.

Thank all that is scared. Tonight was a gift from the spirits world. In these moments I knew it was me who was not forgotten.

Not daring to disrupt this mercy of a night, I waited some time until he was deeper in sleep. I crept out of bed after rolling him onto his side and pressed my lips to his temple, whispering goodnight. I had been doing this for enough years to know that staying in face until the end was utterly critical.

Back in the corridor, I closed my eyes, leaning back against his door and fought the feeling of the floor rising toward me. A rush of cold made me shiver and my hair puffed like it had been hit by a gust of wind. The sensation could not be explained, and I worked quickly to avoid being questioned. The quivering and itch began and the skin on my face melted away, evaporating with a mere sliver of pain.

The transformation was complete, and Yelena was gone, and I stood recast in my own face once again.

Yelena, the prince’s mother was the identify that I was most grateful for. He rarely touched me while I was her with heaviness or anger and less often did it progress to anything considered intimate. Another consolation for me to appreciate.

The nights I was forced to wear the face of his late wife made me think that I would not survive, and it would be the end. It felt like the end. His dramatic weeping and experienced backhand were loaded with disdain, but the punishment of his desire was worse than any treatment or torture. To say that he used his prick to try and kill me would simply trivialize the pain. Once he was satisfied and I could turn the spell, I often needed help by the slaves to get back to my chambre.

Witches like me, who can wear any face, were hunted down like demons and I could feel in my bones there were few of us left. One would think these Christians would celebrate us for our ability to infiltrate their enemies, spy, pose as anyone.

But here I fall again, being ungrateful. I could be dead or barely surviving in the freezing cold forest, starving, selling my body to strangers. Even harder would be facing the future alone. The sheer unknowing.

So tonight, as I tiptoe to my private room, with a four-post bed and meal waiting that I had the luxury of picking at before going to him, I am beholden. Indebted and thankful that as bad as it gets, as much as it hurts, life could always be worse.

Tomorrow will be a new game. Wearing the face of the blue-eyed, raspy-voiced Viking. I will need to put thought into my movements having had a little time to study him in person. The premonition has been there for days, but I will experience soon enough what obscene degradation Oleg has planned for him.

I will, of course, remain positive as someone who, in this world, is worthless. I will earn my keep for enjoying so many advantages. Being whoever Oleg wants me to be, will keep me from burning, reducing to ash as so many witches have who wore two faces.

*Thank you for reading. Please, please do not stay in a terrible situation because you feel it could be worse.

MASTERLIST

@youbloodymadgenius @naaladareia @whenimaunicorn @lol-haha-joke @ceridwenofwales @tephi101 @captstefanbrandt @mdredwine @ivarsrideordie @fields-and-fields-of-poppies @flowers-in-your-hayr @silly-bullshit-collector @readsalot73 @funmadnessandbadassvikings @waiting4inspiration @squirrelacorngliterfarts

#prince oleg #oleg vikings #vikings #vikings fic #oleg fic

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projectwkm · 4 years

Text

Star of the Show

An Actor Mark fic that’s only half a vent set before WKM! Anything in bold is the Manor speaking to him.

[SUMMARY: Mark drinks too much, and Celine and William slip up. The show goes on.]

[WARNINGS: alcohol, blood, horror-descriptions of the House’s Entity, cheating, mentions of bile, stabbing, manipulation, mentions of corpse.]

They stood too fucking close together.

Scowling, and taking a too-large gulp from his drink, Mark surveyed the scene though narrowed eyes and a tight smile that he hoped didn’t look as faux as it felt. There were too many people around for him to cause a scene, far too many people — he barely dared confront Celine on anything when there was anyone else around, lest word spread about them being anything less than happy: God knew his reputation and career couldn’t do with those sort of rumours.

Not that they appeared to be rumours at all. Staring at his wife and his— brother, rival, best friend, enemy? — William, Mark saw what he’d been too blind to see previously. A laugh from Celine. A grin from William. A meaningful glance exchanged between the both of them. God, it made him sick: or maybe that was the alcohol. The whole room had gone blurry a few drinks ago, and Mark had never been the best at holding himself together drunk in public, but seeing Celine and William was far too much for him sober. So he drank.

The wine glass was tugged free from his too tight grip, and Mark started, gazing blearily into the concerned eyes of none other than Damien. His only remaining confidant, his ally, his best friend. Damien.

He probably knows about Celine and William, something hissed poisonously in the back of his mind, and Mark, tipsy and cruel, latched on to that thought instantly. Damien probably did know. He was Mayor, after all — and Celine was his sister. There wasn’t a lot he didn’t know, no doubt. His previous sentiments about Damien soured quickly. Damien was just as guilty as William and Celine; covering up their crimes was equally detestable.

It seemed like Mark really was the only hero in his story. That was disappointingly clear.

“Mark, I think mayhaps you’ve drank enough,” Damien murmured, his voice low so as to avoid the other guests at the party, ever the diplomat. He was so concerned about reputation, Mark thought scathingly, ignoring the way he too obsessed about how his public appearance. Did Damien even care about him? Did Damien even care about his feelings at all, or did he care about his reputation first and foremost?

His anger, previously simmering, began boiling up inside of him.

“Oh, please, Damien, you worry too much,” he smiled, but the words came out too sharp and the expression too false, judging by the alarm written over the other’s face. “I’m fine. Perfectly fine. Completely fine.” Maybe he had drank enough. Maybe he was overreacting.

Maybe you should look at your wife. Unwillingly, Mark’s eyes dragged themselves back to Celine.

She was touching him. Her head on his shoulder, his arm around him, both of them looking as if they’d never been happier. They probably thought they were so clever — managing to get away with so much, right under Mark’s nose, managing to flirt so much at his own party. He could imagine them now, congratulating themselves with praise and flirting and—

“Mark.” Drawn from his own musings with the back of his mind, Mark tensed as Damien spoke his name, already on edge. There was a trace of weary annoyance in his childhood friend’s voice, as if Mark was the one that deserved to be reprimanded. As if Mark was the one in the wrong! “Don’t— Perhaps you should lie down. You’re looking quite unwell—”

“I’m fine.” There was definitely malice in his voice, aimed rather unfairly at Damien, but Mark couldn’t care about that right now. “Didn’t I just say that? What I need is another drink.”

Damien’s jaw clenched, and he had the nerve to look concerned still. “I don’t think that’s for the best,” he said, tentatively, “you don’t seem yourself. Maybe—”

Aren’t you sick of his maybes?

The voice posed a good question. He flushed in anger.

“I’m so tired of your suggestions,” Mark snapped, only realising how loudly and drunkenly he’d been speaking when others turned around to glance at him, clearly seeking out the source of the drama. “I know you’re protecting them. I know you know what they’ve done. Get outta my way.”

Without further ado, he elbowed his way past Damien and made for Celine and William, barely restraining the fury from playing over his face. He snatched another drink from a table as he passed by, draining it in agitation and putting it down roughly on another table. Sick. He was sick of Celine’s lies, William’s dishonesty, sick of everything.

Maybe they deserve this, something whispered to him. Mark couldn’t help but agree. They did.

“Well, well, well. What have we here?” His voice didn’t sound like his: it sounded rehearsed, blank with too much anger behind it. Celine jerked, eyes widening, while William only tensed, a sort of readiness to fight slipping on to his face. “My beautiful wife. My favourite adopted brother. How quaint. How perfectly quaint. How sweet. You’re like a— a— happy couple.”

Perfect. Perfect delivery of your lines. Lines? Were they lines? He didn’t know. His anger was rising too rapidly to think.

“How much have you had to drink, dear?” Celine asked, sickeningly sweet, and there was a wary sort of fear in her eyes. She knew this was it. God, this was it, Mark realised, with a dawning horror. This was it. There was no turning back now. “Don’t you think you should go and lie down?”

Maybe he should....

Maybe she’d enjoy you leaving. William would have her all to himself. Maybe you should expose her lies.

“Oh, I’m sure you’d love that, with your darling William to keep you company!”

The beginning of the end.

The night was a haze of blood and wine — of shouting and eventually silence. The crowds, greedily lapping up the drama of the situation, eventually lost interest and left, not too long after William and Celine. Damien, like the sheep he was, followed helplessly after them, making faux promises to Mark to return and help him. Mark lay on the floor, head spinning, mind reeling, and lifted one hand to wipe at his nose. Bloody. Badly bloody. William had punched him, he remembered that much. Had that been before or after he’d called Celine a whore? Before or after he’d screamed at William for betraying him, before or after he’d tried to punch them?

Maybe they deserve to be miserable like you are. The voice in the back of his head didn’t sound much like it was just that anymore. It sounded more oily, more greasy, far smoother. Maybe you should make sure they aren’t ever happy again. Mark blinked drunkenly. He’d heard that voice before. He’d spoken to that voice before. He’d obeyed that voice before.

Maybe you should wake up, little hero.

Maybe he should.

He blinked again, and when he focused, he wasn’t in a brightly lit ballroom. He was alone and only half alive with a bottle of wine clutched in one hand and a knife in the other.

Coughing up blood and bile, Mark rolled on to his side, trembling with exertion. It had just been a memory — an awful memory. He wasn’t alone. He never had been alone. The House was always with him, offering suggestions, opinions, praise. Anything Mark desired, the House gave him.

When he’d discovered the Upside Down world, he’d demanded a neverending starring role as the hero. And the House had promised to give him it, as soon as he completed one little task. A task he’d been wanting to complete for too long anyway.

Revenge.

Maybe you should clean yourself up, the House, not the back of his mind, cooed, in time for your side characters arriving.

“I know,” Mark murmured, voice croaky and dry, but still prideful, “but I… I don’t understand why you’d show me that night again. That party… I don’t understand.”

Maybe you should listen to me. I am the one that has been there for you when you were alone. I am the one that will lead you to your hero role. I showed you that night to remind you of how they hurt you. How they abandoned you. To remind you that I will never leave. I will never hurt you.

He choked on the feeling of its claws in his chest, digging in deep enough to draw blood. But it didn’t, of course. He damaged his own body enough without it doing it for him. “I am the hero in all this. Aren’t I?”

Of course you are. What else could you be? Your humble upbringing, your tragic backstory. There’s no other part for you to play.

Tragic backstory, humble upbringing...? Mark frowned, trying to remember his life that seemed like forever ago now. He’d been raised spoiled and rich, bratty and demanding, with everything he could ever want — he wasn’t humble in the slightest. But then the House cooed at him, brushed a breeze through his hair, and his memories slipped away. Of course. His humble upbringing. He was the hero.

There was no other part for him to play.

Mark clambered to his feet with a grimace, woozy and off balance from both the wine and the death. Inwardly, though, he’d never felt more awake. This was his time to shine. The main event of the story, the climax of the first act of the play. The beginning of his better life. Smiling far too wide for a man that had just been stabbed, Mark turned his attention to the House.

It ... wasn't physically visible to anyone other than him, despite how it felt. Mark could feel it deep within him, chittering and vibrating and clawing, and although the pain had been most unwelcome at the beginning, over time, he’d grown to enjoy it. It was a distraction from the constant pain his broken body was in. The House rustling in his body, restlessly moving from his stomach to his chest to his shoulders to his back and all over, made him feel less alone — like he had a small animal or pet to keep him company. It was hard to tell what shape the House Entity was. Sometimes, he could feel its beak speaking words out his mouth. Other times, he felt its fur run his insides dry and its claws sink into his skin to draw blood. In his best nightmares, it looked like a shadowy outline of him, with glowing red eyes and razor sharp teeth as it showered him with praise and instructions for his role in this story.

You’re perfect, the House crooned at him, and Mark could almost feel its oily embrace. A bolt of jealousy, hot and cruel, shot through him when he thought of Celine and William. How often did they hug, hold hands, kiss, embrace, exchange physical contact with each other? They could do so every day if they so desired. But Mark was alone. William had stolen Celine from him, and Damien had known and still sided against Mark. Because Mark was the only hero.

He ignored the hundreds of unopened letters from the Mayor that were in his room, ignored how genuine Damien had sounded when telling him he hadn’t known about the affair, ignored the part of him that knew deep down Damien didn’t deserve to be dragged into this mess. None of them did.

They wronged you. Mark wasn’t sure if it was the House or himself saying that this time. Either way, he knew it was true. They deserve this. They deserved this. You should punish them. He would punish them. They don’t deserve to be happy when you aren’t happy. They didn’t deserve to be happy when he wasn’t happy.

He needed to get going. With a brief glance in his mirror to check that the House was still around — the mirror that showered his true reflection, the bloodless and disgusting corpse he’d become, the mirror he’d come to despise for telling the truth when he hid in a world of delusions — Mark painted over his rage and pain with a jovial smile. He almost felt like his old self again. Slipping from one black robe to his favourite red one, he tilted his head too far on his neck at the sound of the doorbell.

Showtime.

As he headed downstairs, the House stayed, lingering in the mirror for just a second more. It smiled and dripped oozing black from its expression, remorseless and excited. Its puppet was beautiful, a beautiful broken thing, so narcissistic and desperate to hurt others — it had moulded him perfectly. Soon it would be able to grow more powerful than ever.

The doorbell rang again, more insistent, and it vaguely heard Benjamin’s voice greeting the guest. Its smile only grew. It could taste Mark’s blood, but also his desire for this. It may have shaped him, but his deceit and cruelty and narcissism had been there already, even before the fateful night of the revelation of the affair. The House hadn’t done that, not at all.

With a last, self satisfied grin, the Entity slithered back to its puppet, hanging heavy around his shoulders and letting its tail stroke the wound on the actor’s body.

Beautiful, it lied, and it could tell he believed it.

Mark was the hero in his version of the story, after all, and heroes had to be beautiful. Even if inside they hid something far more sinister.

—————

All critique and feedback is appreciated!! Feel free to reblog or request a snippet with Actor Mark involved!! 💛

#markiplier #who killed markiplier #actor mark #wkm #asshole mark #wkm mark #mark fischbach #adwm #a date with markiplier #ahwm #a heist with markiplier #wkm fanfiction #wkm fanfic #actor mark fanfic #actor mark fic #nox’s writing

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thetalentedkurthummel · 5 years

Text

Kuris ll Sweet Creature P1

When: 10th April 2019 (roughly)

Where: Kurt’s house

Who: Kurt and Louis (@whatifprincelouis)

Summary: Kurt has a fractured ankle and his boyfriend comes round to help tidy up. They discuss their relationship being made public, frustrations with Blaine and three little words.

Warning: Mentions of depression and child custody

Note: Written on Discord and P2 is currently being written

Louis

By now the drive had become familiar to Louis, even though they went to eachother's houses for the same amount of time. Twice. Of course now things had changed between him and Kurt, they were close now. Being it gifting Kurt roses for Valentine or cleaning up his house now that Kurt was injuired, slowly but steady he began to enjoy the small gestures their relationship offered. Sending messages to each other when they got the time. Or finding enjoyment in talking about the little girl that stole Kurt's heart. Everyday had been a blessing and Louis enjoyed every minute of it. Of course there were days when he began to think how he messed up with Elliott, but this time he made sure to voice those worries and allow Kurt to make him feel more secure. As his car came to an halt he smiled as he looked for the flowerpot with the hidden key. Opening the door to announce that he had entered the home so he wouldn't look like a burgler. "Kurt I am here!" Well it still felt too early to call it his home, though this time it felt almost tempting.

Kurt

Kurt was bored out of his mind because he was currently in a plaster cast, but that would hopefully change within the week and then all he would need is some physio to get back some of that strength but he was sure his cousin would help him with that. The reason as to why he was incapacitated right now was rather embarrassing but there was a toy lying around and he fell and injured his ankle. Serena was currently with Blaine, the latter of which he was unsure about because he wasn’t sure how mentally well his ex was right now. It made Kurt nervous. He didn’t want to take away Serena from him, but if he wasn’t fit enough to care for their child or even realise he was unwell and get treatment then that might have to change. Back to reality Kurt was looking forward to the next few hours. His boyfriend Louis was coming over and going to help him tidy up and just help Kurt forget about all his problems.

They trusted each other enough by now in that they would give each other keys or codes to houses or apartments and Kurt was even pondering on making this “official”, in that he would tell the world he was in a more serious relationship than he realised. However that would also mean he’d have to deal with whatever Blaine would throw at him. Before he could comprehend that thought he heard his front door open and his saviour had arrived. “Hey honey, i’m in the front room going nuts and need to remember what your face looks like.”

Louis

Louis didn't expect that to be the greeting he would be given, but it still made him chuckle. "It is what we get for having too little pictures of the both of us."He exclaimed the moment he walking into the front room. "I was expecting a war zone but it doesn't look like it takes me forever to clean." Then again he had yet to see Serena's room and it certainly was one of his to do clean up places. He greeted Kurt with a big smile and added: "Which is positive for me because it gives me more time to spoil my sweet secret boyfriend." With that he offered Kurt a soft kiss on his cheek. He took his time to sit next to Kurt and asked: "So tell me what is on your mind to the point you are tuning nuts because I am not only here to be your personal cleaning lady."

He winked. It did him well to see Kurt again, though it was odd to have Serena not around. He knew that she was with Blaine though a part of him missed the little girl, so he could picture how bad it would be for Kurt. With Darius his unexpected return he began to wonder if the dad type was a type that attracted him. He pushed the idea away by considering both Ian and Elliott. They were nothing like father figures. He simply enjoyed being around children. And kurt was adorable and charming. Plenty of reasons to like the guy.

Kurt

Kurt smiled at Louis and kissed him back as his boyfriend sat next to him on the couch. He wasn’t really dressed for the part but they had both seen each other at bad times (or at least Kurt had with Louis) and so he wasn’t as self conscious for Louis to see him in some casual bottoms and top. “Well it could have been worse but majority of the stuff I think is in the spare room and kitchen as it’s a bit difficult to put plates away. I can still use the hoover just about you know.”

He went and stroked Louis’ arm. “I was thinking actually of making our relationship status more...public. I don’t want us to be a secret anymore because i’m paranoid of the press or my ex husband. I want to show you off and treat you to romantic dates in places which are not my kitchen.” Kurt then sighed. “However I would need to talk to Blaine first and...I don’t know how he is going to take it. I think he feels like I didn’t ever love him and he’s going to spiral like he did when we broke up back in college.”

Kurt was thinking too much. “I shouldn’t push this all on you, but you came in my life and didn’t think we’d get to a stage like this and you keep spoiling me like what you did on Valentine’s or just coming here and saying how you will pick me up like a princess. One day i’m going to be the one spoiling you.”

Louis

Louis listened attentively, as he softly smiled when Kurt returned the kiss. Wrapping his arms around the other, he allowed Kurt to talk what was on his mind. "Well that's why I'm here for, it's not that difficult to put plates away for you, or you know pick you up so you can." He teased, as he noticed their conversation grew a bit more serious. Louis had imagined the moment would get there eventually but he had respected that Kurt had his own pace with things. Part of him saw it as his duty to remain a secret for the sake of Serena as well, last thing he would want is for the little girl to get harmed cause of his father finding happiness with someone else. When he was in a dark state of mind that might have even scared him off, yet because Kurt had pulled him through with every day he had been his secret he had regained some inner strenght as well.

Placing his hand around Kurt's he pulled Kurt's hand towards his lips and pressed a gentle kiss on it. "If you feel that you are ready, you know I certainly won't mind. Because I too would love to have more public times of affection...though I can't say having you all for myself, or sharing you with Serena isn't fun either." He chuckled. "Seeing I've been in that state of mind I do understand what you mean that you have to discuss this with Blaine, and if Blaine is open for it I'd like to talk to him as well." He didn't have anything against Kurt's ex-husband. But he knew it wouldn't be easy, not for him, Kurt or Blaine. But if Louis could aid to make things easier he'd try to with the best of his abilities.

He offered Kurt a smile. "You aren't pushing anything on me, I was willing to wait and take things on your pace if you needed me to. Because I'm certainly grateful you became a part of my life, and in a way you are spoiling me plenty Kurt. You might not know but welcoming me in your home, having me be a part of your life, to me all these things are signs of affection and a way of spoiling me. I do these things because I want you to be happy, because you deserve that happiness. And you are a man worth waiting for, you have an amazing daughter and you are an amazing father. I'm really a blessed man."

Kurt

Kurt let Louis take his hand and kiss it as much as he wanted. Kurt years ago would never have thought he’d meet someone like Louis who was understanding and just wanted to take things slow in their relationship while their working life sometimes went 100MPH and other such things like needing to care for Serena or whatever Blaine was sending his way. Kurt also was understanding of what Louis may be doing or what had happened in the past with his love life. It is why the most intimate things they had done so far was kissing, hugging and laying down with each other non sexually - despite the fact they had been going out officially since February of this year.

Louis to Kurt felt like he was young and innocent again and there were no worries of needing to impress him, despite the fact that Kurt needed to up his game a little in the romantic gesture department, but he was working on that. Kurt laid his head on Louis shoulder. “All I can say is good luck when it comes to Blaine. I will try and arrange a meeting between you two but I can’t promise that Blaine won’t be a bitch about it. He is usually fine, but when upset he gets into a weird head space.”

Kurt got distracted by what Louis was then saying. “You say you are blessed to have me when I really feel it’s the other way around, you’re my prince who comes bearing gifts and cleaning services. You make me feel like i'm doing the right thing when it comes to my parenting and let me relax and not try to live up to false expectations like I sometimes have to do at work.”

Louis

Managing a club and working on a fashion line certainly had him occupied, but in a way he had learned not to get him to be overworked. Their work was a major part in both of their lives, but Louis made sure that there was enough room to spend with this amazing man next to him. He wasn't in a hurry, and waiting for every small step to be taken felt normal to him. He knew they would take all steps that belonged to a relationship eventually. Though Elliott certainly played a part in his own pace, he found himself growing happier with every day passing the way things were being right now. And with days passing he didn't feel afraid for a potential next step. Kurt made him happy and that happiness he wanted to return.Kurt made him feel worthy of love again, a feeling that he had lost not only with Elliott but with Ian as well. He was a romantic soul and liked to show his love for Kurt with the tiniest of gestures. Being it placing a hand in his, kissing his temple or simply acknowledging what he was feeling.

"You know I love you right?" He whispered softly, a gentle smile forming on his lips. "I'm sure that Blaine won't be easy, but I do hope he understands that he'll be a part of this family regardless of how it is shaped." He smiled. "I do not wish to take his place away, I simply want to join it."

Even if Blaine would be rude, he wouldn't be unempathic towards him. The situation wasn't easy and certainly something he had to adjust with. "I just want you to be yourself, because it's you who makes me the happiest. I don't want you to change yourself in order to make me feel happy. Just spending time like this is enough for me, and even though everyone might not know I capured your eye, I know I did, and that I love you. And that's enough for me. Though if I get to show you off it's even for the better. The moment I don't have to hide this anymore I'm really going to show you off as much as you deserve. Because you are an incredible father and an amazing boyfriend Kurt."

Kurt

Kurt’s heart skipped a beat just a little when Louis mentioned the L word. He looked in his boyfriend’s eyes and opened his mouth slightly not sure what to say. Sure he was falling for Louis hard, but his head and heart was still trying to recover from what happened or didn’t happen with Blaine. They had been together on/off since high school and there was always going to be a part of Kurt that loved him still. Heck he felt guilty sometimes for going out with Louis so soon after his separation.

He sighed and kissed Louis softly on the lips to show his affection. “I didn’t know but I know now. I’m sorry but I can’t say those three little words you probably want to hear in return right now. I have lots of things going on and i’m still trying to figure where everyone fits - including you. I see you in my future as my partner and even step father to Serena, but when I say those words I want it to be right, to feel right. I don’t want it to be in a situation where i’m not feeling myself with a fractured ankle and in my sweatpants.”

Kurt caressed Louis’ arm softly. “This isn’t a relationship i’ve experienced before. This relationship...i’m still yet to put it into words, probably because there are none. I will probably have to sing it, though don’t expect me to come out in song right now. I’m not Rachel Berry.” It was true though, Louis despite his appearance made him feel like royalty and it felt like they were in some kind of dom/sub/switch relationship without the need of sex or other kinds of bondage to show what they mean to one another. “In time I will say it, but for now I will say thank you for your love and it means the world to me. Now...what about what you were saying where you were going to pick me up like a princess, you’ve still not done that yet.”

Louis

Louis smiled as he listened to Kurt express himself slowly. Though he certainly was the first to say those three strong words, he knew that it would still need Kurt more time before he would be the one to return them. But something Louis had learned from what they were having right now was patience.

He smiled at the soft kiss and nodded. "And I am fine with that Kurt. I am not unaware of what you are going through." He sofly rested his hands on Kurts and offered him a soft smile. "Everything can go on your own pace. You might not have realized it yet but I am not in a hurry. This whatever it will be in the end, can go as slow as you want it to." He then chuckled. "And you look great in everything I'd say you almost look adorable right now."

"Well I'd make a terrible duet. I never sang to begin with so maybe for the better that you are not like Rachel. Though I enjoy listening to musicals-" Well he silenced himself because it wasn't something he wished to prove. "Well..." Louis smiled for a moment before chuckling sweetly. "You might wanna make sure you hold onto me well, cause I will sweep you off your feet right now." With that he paced his arm around the others back, and one under his knees.

#parawhatif #louis #para

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jade4813 · 7 years

Text

The Princess and The Pirate, Chapter 3

Author Notes: Endless thanks to @valeriemperez for her help editing this story and assisting me in figuring out how I wanted this story to go! This will hopefully end up being the first in a planned Westallen Fairy Tale AU series!

I’m sorry for the delay. I’ll probably be a little behind in getting chapter 4 finished, since I’m working on a Westallen Christmas fic. But this story won’t be forgotten; I promise!

Title: The Princess and the Pirate

Rating: PG

Synopsis: Princesses don’t fall in love with pirates, do they? Anything is possible in a fairy tale!A Cinderella/Princess Bride inspired Westallen AU.

Chapters: 3/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Iris and Caitlin were relaxing in the gardens one morning, idly sketching trees they’d drawn a hundred times before, when Caitlin heaved a heavy sigh. “Your Highness,” she began, her voice low and reluctant, “There is something I need to tell you.”

Iris glanced at her friend out of the corner of her eye and put her pencil aside. Caitlin had been quiet for a couple of days, lost in her own thoughts. All efforts to discover the source of her distraction had failed, and so Iris had quietly decided to wait until her friend was ready to confide in her. It seemed that moment had come.

But now that she’d begun to speak, Caitlin didn’t know how to continue. She lapsed into silence, so Iris pressed softly, “Are you unwell?”

Caitlin blinked rapidly and shook her head. “No, it’s not –” she began. Her voice broke off, and she cleared her throat softly. “I’m fine. There’s something I need to tell you. I should have told you sooner, but the King –”

Her voice broke off when a guard approached, bowing deeply to the princess. “My apologies for intruding, Your Highness, but the King would like to see you. He asked to see you both.”

Throwing her friend an apologetic look, Iris nodded. “Of course,” she demurred. A summons from her father could hardly be ignored.

When she turned back to the castle, however, the guard cleared his throat. “My apologies, but if you will accompany me, he’s waiting for you in the drive.”

That piqued her interest. Giving the guard a slight nod, she and Caitlin fell into step behind him. Though she tried to catch her friend’s eye, Caitlin kept her gaze on the guard’s back, her mouth tightened into a firm line.

When they reached the drive, Iris found a carriage waiting for them with her father inside. She tried to hide her surprise, taking the footman’s hand so he could assist her into the carriage. She typically only accompanied her father into town for holidays and other special occasions, so she couldn’t imagine the cause for this trip.

Once she had settled into the seat across from her father, the carriage began to move. The trio sat in silence as they traveled through the front gates, headed towards town. Though she was burning with curiosity, Iris bit her tongue and tried to exercise patience. Her father would reveal the reason for this trip in his own time.

Eventually, the King pulled his attention from the trees passing by the carriage windows. With a slight smile, he met his daughter’s eyes and said, “I’m sure you’re wondering why I wanted to see you. There was something we need to discuss, but I wanted to do it in private.” Iris nodded. Privacy was one commodity impossible to come by within the castle walls.

The King frowned but he didn’t continue, and Iris’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. It seemed this was a day for uncomfortable, reluctant conversations. She shot Caitlin a quick look to see if she was similarly amused, but her companion was staring out of the carriage windows.

“Is everything all right?” Iris finally asked, unable to completely hide her exasperation.

Her dad’s teeth flashed in a quick grin. “Everything’s fine. It’s just hard for a father to admit that his daughter has grown up.” He reached out and grabbed her hand, giving it a slight squeeze.

The tension broken, he continued, “I asked you to accompany me today for two reasons. First, I wanted to tell you that I know I’ve been…unfair to you. I’ve wanted to keep you at the castle to keep you safe.” He paused and then added with a wry twist of his lips, “As your father, I would keep you safe in the castle forever, if I could. But as a king, I know you need to know get to know your people – and your people need to feel that they know you. They need to trust you and believe in you.

“I wanted to let you know that I’ll be assigning a few guards to you over the next couple of days. Whenever you want to leave the castle, they will accompany you. In return, you need to promise me that you will take at least two of them with you any time you go out. I may not be able to protect you from the illness that took your mother, but I will do whatever I can to ensure your safety.”

Iris beamed. If they weren’t stuck in an enclosed carriage, she’d throw her arms around her father in an exuberant hug. Lurching forward, she did her best, but it was awkward to say the least. “Thank you, Daddy,” she whispered into his ear.

“Just promise me you’ll stay safe, baby,” he murmured back. When she settled back onto her seat, he continued in a stern voice. “And no more putting on your maid’s clothes and sneaking out alone.”

Iris froze, her breath caught in her throat. “How did you –?” she began, but she broke off before she could continue the question. She could feel Caitlin stiffen beside her, and she shot a quick glance in her direction. Her friend wouldn’t look at her; she kept her gaze firmly on her lap, where she worried a handkerchief between her fingers. “Oh.”

“Don’t be angry with her,” her father said softly. “She was worried for you. I commanded her to tell me if there was anything that might help us track down the Man in Black. Regardless of what he said, she was afraid he might have recognized you and followed you home.” He paused and then added, his voice low, “Before too long, this kingdom will be yours. When you carry that responsibility, you cannot always believe the best in people – even if you wish you could.”

To hell with what a princess should or shouldn’t do. Iris sighed heavily, her gaze dropping to her own lap. “I’m not angry.” It was a little white lie that meant no harm. She understood that the King’s command would always come first, but that didn’t mean she had to be happy about it right away. Raising her gaze to her father, she straightened her shoulders and asked firmly, “And what is the other reason you wanted to see me? You hardly needed privacy to tell me the first part.”

“Ah,” he said with a nod. “Of course.” He paused and cleared his throat, his hand forming a fist in his lap. “As you know, according to tradition, you should be betrothed by your twenty-third birthday. You turn twenty-two in six weeks, so we need to start looking to the future.”

A knot formed in her stomach. Iris squeezed her hands in her lap, wishing she could reach for the comfort of Caitlin’s hand. She was aware of the tradition. She had simply hoped that she wouldn’t have to abide by it. A year suddenly seemed to be entirely too little time. “But surely – surely I’m not – it’s just a silly old tradition. You’re the king. Surely you could –”

He bowed his head. “I could,” he admitted. “As your father, I wish I could allow you all the time you need to follow your heart. But in this, I must think like a king. And as king, I have to put the good of our people ahead of ourselves.” His eyes were troubled as he reached for her hand, but she kept her own in her lap. “I wish I didn’t have to lay this on you, baby girl, but I have a greater responsibility to consider. We both do.”

She nodded, not needing him to elaborate any further. She was the sole heir to the throne. Should something happen to her, the next in line would be her cousin, Wallace. He was a good man and a good king, ruling over a kingdom of his own. Should he assume rule over their land, as well, it would almost double his holdings. While the nine kingdoms had existed in harmony for generations, peace was never guaranteed. In the past, kingdoms had gone to war for far less than a dramatic shift in power.

As unlikely as it was that Iris would die any time soon, she was gambling with the lives of innocent people – those who would be sent into battle against one another – if she was wrong.

She couldn’t do that.

Dropping her gaze to her lap, she asked in a low voice, “What did you have in mind?”

Her father shifted in his seat, uncharacteristically awkward. “We have already planned a party to celebrate your birthday. I suggest we invite the eligible princes in the surrounding kingdoms to attend. You don’t have to make a decision on that day, but perhaps…” He let his voice trail off, but she hardly needed him to complete the thought.

Her gaze shot to his face. “Six days?” she asked in surprise. “But is that enough time to –” She broke off when she saw his expression. “You already invited them.” He didn’t respond, so she heaved a heavy sigh and looked out the window. People had noticed the King’s carriage and were lining the streets, waving to them as they passed. Some reached out and ran their fingers gently along the sides of the carriage, wanting to touch the king they so loved in whatever small way they could.

Iris was touched by their genuine outpouring of support and love. How could she repay that love with selfishness? With a smile, she reached through the window and grabbed one of the hands held out to her, letting her subjects’ fingers brush gently through her own. And that was when she had an idea.

“Father, I will do what you ask. But in return, I have a few requests.” Pulling her hand back, she turned back to the king, her jaw set in resolve. “I want all of our people to be invited to the ball, as well. Six days should be sufficient to prepare.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly, but he smiled. “Anything else?”

“Yes. I would like it to be a masquerade. If I am to meet – and perhaps choose – my future husband at this ball, I would like the chance for him to be attracted to me and not just my crown.”

Her father’s smile faded, but he offered her a solemn nod. “Iris, as it is a celebration of your birthday, you will open the ball with the first dance. You will also be by my side periodically throughout the evening. You can hardly hide your identity at that point.”

She gave him a thoughtful look. “True. But have you met the Lady Cecile? She’s new to the court, but she’s about my size. I propose we prepare two gowns. After the first dance, I will slip away to change, and she will take my place. If you keep her at your side throughout the evening and speak for her as much as possible, nobody should realize the subterfuge.” He looked doubtful, so she pressed gently, “Please, Father? For me? I wish to at least have a chance to find the kind of love you and Mother shared.”

His head bowed for a moment, but then he nodded. “Very well,” he agreed. Then he said in a low voice, “You know I wish I didn’t have to ask this of you.”

Iris swallowed heavily and looked out the window. They were heading back to the palace now, and she had never been so tempted to blink away tears at the sight of her home. “I know.”

They fell quiet until they pulled into the drive, and the two women climbed out of the carriage. Once it pulled away, Caitlin blurted, “Ir – Your Highness, I’m so sorry for telling your father about our trips into town. I didn’t want to betray your trust, but I was –”

Iris raised a hand, cutting her off. She had been angry before, but now she just felt numb. “Stop, please.” She turned and threw her friend a wry smile. “Now more than ever, I understand that the crown will always come first.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she sucked in a deep breath and tried to ignore the sinking in the pit of her stomach. “I just – I hoped…I wanted the chance to fall in love one day.”

Caitlin reached out to put her hand on her arm. “Perhaps you will. I know it seems unlikely, but you might fall in love.”

She scoffed, stepping away from her friend’s touch. “Oh, Caitlin. I may be a princess, but this isn’t a fairy tale. And I cannot expect it to be.” She took a deep breath and said with firm resolve, “I must do what is right by my people. I’m afraid love is a luxury I simply cannot afford.”

“You know, you’re so disgustingly in love, it’s a wonder Cynthia manages to put up with you,” Barry teased his friend as they slung their bags over their shoulders and headed away from the dock. Cisco had been almost obnoxiously cheerful for days, looking forward to the moment he’d get to see Cynthia again.

Cisco chuckled and gave Barry a slight shrug. “I hate to tell you this, but you’re no better.”

Barry threw him an affronted look. “What are you talking about? I’m not in love.”

A snort was the only response, since Cisco was immediately distracted by Cynthia shoving her way out of the crowd. Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him in for a long kiss. Barry shook his head and looked away, but when the kiss didn’t end even after several minutes, he cleared his throat. That still didn’t get their attention, so he tried again, louder this time.

The kiss finally ended, and Cynthia turned to Barry with a smile. “Good to see you again, Allen. Thanks for keeping this idiot safe for me.” She nudged her boyfriend in the ribs and threw him a quick grin.

Cisco scoffed. “He kept me safe? I will have you know that I am the responsible one in our relationship.”

Cocking his head to the side, Barry threw him a measuring glance. “Really? That’s not the way I remember it.”

“Me, either,” Cynthia agreed, though she seemed distracted as she looked at Barry. At his questioning look, she explained, “I didn’t realize you had a scar from your sword fight.”

“Oh,” he murmured, raising a hand to rub the thin, pale scar just under his eye. “It’s not too bad, is it?”

She shook her head slowly. “No, but it is a problem. Come on; I’ll explain when we get home. Just…keep your head down until we’re out of town, okay?”

Barry nodded, and Cynthia linked her arm through Cisco’s as they made their way back to her home. As the Mistress of the Hunt, she lived in a cozy cottage within walking distance of the palace’s front gate. Though he kept his head bowed, Barry noticed that people stepped out of her way and touched the brims of their hats when they saw her approach. He didn’t know why his scar was a concern, but perhaps it was best that people were too distracted by her to pay him much attention.

Back at the cottage, Cynthia threw open the door and escorted them both inside. Then she grabbed Barry’s arm and moved him towards the light spilling through the open windows. “Here. Let me look at that again.”

“What’s wrong?” Cisco asked as she studied his face. “How is his scar a problem?”

She made a soft sound in the back of her throat and turned to rummage through some papers on a nearby table. Finally pulling one out, she handed it over. “Because everyone – including all the castle guards - is looking for a guy with a scar like yours, right under the eye. You just had to pick a sword fight with a princess, didn’t you?”

His stomach sinking, Barry took the piece of paper from her hand. The picture on the Wanted poster wasn’t a terribly good likeness, but it did mention that he probably carried a scar. “I don’t understand. She ordered my arrest?”

Cynthia shook her head. “She didn’t, no. The King did. Her lady in waiting told him that the princess cut you in the fight and you might have a scar. He sent these out the next day.”

Cisco took the paper from Barry. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you send word about this?” he asked in confusion and concern as he studied the image.

She shrugged. “These were only posted recently. About a month ago. I figured you’d be here before any letter I tried to send would find you.”

Putting the paper down, Cisco turned to her friend in concern. “Maybe this is a bad idea. You should take the ship and get out of here. If anyone realizes you’re the Man in Black, you’re going to be thrown in jail. Thanks to you, Eobard is rotting away in a jail far away from here. Isn’t that enough?”

For a second, Barry was almost tempted. Then he remembered why he’d returned, and he couldn’t do it. “It’s unlikely he could have done what he did alone. Lord Jesse had my parents’ rings. If he helped cover up Eobard’s crime and framed my father for it, then he needs to be brought to justice. Until he is, the princess – the royal family, I mean – could be in danger. I need to make sure she’s safe.”

Cisco and Cynthia exchanged looks. “They’re safe, you mean?” Cisco couldn’t resist teasing.

Barry flushed. “I’m not in love with her,” he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. At Cynthia’s look, he protested, “I’m not!”

“Oh, of course! I believe you!” she reassured him quickly, but it was obviously a lie. “I mean, Cisco mentioned in his last letter that you rarely even mention her. Only, what was it you said?”

“Four or five times an hour,” Cisco readily supplied.

He glowered at them both. “I don’t –!” he began to protest, but the look on his friend’s face made it clear how little he could argue the point. His voice lowering, he crossed his arms over his chest and grumbled, “That doesn’t mean I’m in love with her.”

Cynthia’s sigh was full of feigned regret. “Then I guess you won’t care that there will be a masquerade ball in honor of her birthday tomorrow night. And everybody in the kingdom is invited.”

Barry froze, his eyes wide. “R-really? A masquerade?” At her nod, he cleared his throat. “You know, it would probably be the perfect time for me to sneak in. To warn her. About Lord Jesse.”

Cynthia managed a grave nod, but Cisco didn’t even try to hide his response. He ducked his head and laughed, and Barry looked around for something to throw at him. Sadly, there was nothing within reach that Cynthia wouldn’t kill him for breaking, so he just huffed in irritation. “I’m not in love with her! I’m not!” he protested.

Nobody was listening.

#my fanfiction #the princess and the pirate #westallen #barry allen #iris west #fanfiction #fairy tale au #westallen fairy tale series

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boofphil · 7 years

Text

because he loves him

2010!dan

summary: dan has been getting sick a lot recently, making phil worried (based off dan's 2010 surgery)

word count: 2090

genre: fluff, sickfic

warnings: mentions of vomiting

A/N: i can’t title help me

Dan didn’t think much of it at first. When his stomach started hurting after most meals, he brushed it off as bad university food. [add more here] He figured a weekend at Phil’s would help with food that didn’t taste questionable. After dinner, the two went to the lounge to watch a movie. Not too long into however, Dan’s stomach started feeling funny. Dan frowned, knowing what would come next. Phil noticed Dan shifting uncomfortably next to him.

“Dan? What’s wrong?” Phil asked.

Dan tried to ignore it. “I’m fine.”

Phil gave him a concerned look, but didn’t press on.

It didn’t take long before Dan’s stomach began to ache, much to Dan’s dismay. He couldn’t blame bad food on this one. He pulled his knees to his chest and crossed his arms over his stomach, subtly trying to ease his stomachache. The pain worsened with each passing minute and Dan found himself unable to focus on the movie anymore. He didn’t want to worry Phil; it would only be a matter of time before he noticed, so Dan needed to find a way to relief the pain before Phil picked up on it.

“I’m going to use the bathroom,” Dan excused himself, standing up and trying not to wince as the pain worsened.

“Do you need me to pause the movie?” Phil asked, glancing over at Dan.

Dan shook his head, then left to go to the bathroom. Once in the bathroom, he doubled over and clutched his stomach, face grimacing. This one felt worse than the usual stomach pains. He sat down on the floor, curling up as much as possible.

He planned to wait a couple minutes before going back out, yet he was too distracted by the pain to pay attention to how long he was in there. He only became aware of how much time had passed when there was a knock on the door.

“Dan? Are you alright in there? You’ve been in there for twenty minutes.”

Dan groaned; his stomach didn’t feel any better than when he first came in.

“What’s wrong?” Phil said, worry evident his voice.

Dan didn’t respond, hoping Phil would go away. He knew Phil wouldn’t leave, of course; he’d be an awful boyfriend if he did.

“Dan, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I’ll have to pick the lock to get in.”

“No…” Dan whimpered, stomach cramping. Why did this stomachache have to feel so awful? Having a decent dinner with his boyfriend was supposed to help, not make it worse. Now Phil would find out about his stomachaches and force him to visit the doctor, something he couldn’t afford as a university student.

There was some noise with the door knob, signaling that Phil had resorted to picking the lock to get in. Dan hid his face against his legs, not wanting to see the worry on Phil’s face. The door swung open and nearly hit Dan. Phil stepped in, closing the door behind him and crouching down to Dan’s level.

“Dan, please talk to me,” Phil whispered, gently rubbing Dan’s back. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Dan shook his head. “My stomach hurts again.”

Phil frowned. “Again?”

Dan lifted his head. “It’s been hurting all week.”

This further worried Phil. Why hadn’t Dan told him about this sooner? “Does it come and go or has it constantly been there?”

“Only after I ate meals. I thought it was the university food, but I guess not.”

Phil could see how upset this was making Dan, so he decided to wait until later when he was feeling better to talk about it. He placed a hand on Dan’s cheek, letting the younger boy lean into it and close his eyes. “How about you go lay down in my bed while I go buy you some medicine, alright? We can talk about what to do later.” Dan nodded in agreement, eyes fluttering back open as Phil removed his hand from Dan’s cheek. He helped Dan get to his bed, where the younger boy curled up with his arms around his stomach. Phil tucked him in and pressed a kiss to his head, promising to be back in ten minutes.

Phil waited until the next day to bring up going to the doctor. The two were cuddling on the couch, Dan settled between Phil’s legs. His head was resting on Phil’s chest with Phil’s arms tight around him.

“Hey Dan?”

Dan looked up at Phil, his fringe falling into his eyes.

“Do you think you should see a doctor about your stomach?”

Phil felt Dan instantly tense. He obviously didn’t want to go to the doctor, even though it would only get worse the longer he waited. “I really don’t want to. Can we just wait another week?”

Phil shook his head. “It’ll only get worse. I don’t mean to scare you Dan, but it could be something serious.”

Dan sighed, hiding his face in Phil’s chest. “I’ll go tomorrow, if it’ll make you happy.”

Phil smiled, kissing Dan’s hair. “It would. I want my boyfriend happy and healthy.”

“Ew, you’re being sappy.”

Phil lifted Dan’s head and began planting kisses over his face, making Dan scrunch his noise. “Yes, I am,” Phil said teasingly between kisses. “Because I love you.” “Noo,” Dan giggled, face turning pink. “Stop it.”

Phil planted a kiss on Dan’s nose, then on his lips. He smiled into the kiss as he felt Dan sigh contently. “Never.”

Dan pulled away, looking fondly at Phil. “I love you too.” He leaned back in, the two getting lost in each other.

A week later, however, the two found themselves in A&E. Dan was staring at the ground, a hand pressed against his stomach. Even with the pills prescribed from the doctor, Dan’s stomachaches became more frequent and painful. It had gotten to the point where Dan was skipping meals to avoid the pain that came after them. Phil had been worried the entire time, insisting that Dan stayed at his place until he got better. Dan hadn’t gone to class at all, instead spending most of the day curled up in Phil’s bed with stomach pains. Phil drew the line when Dan had thrown up his lunch.

“Is your stomach feeling any better now?” Phil leaned over and whispered. He was a bit conscious of the looks they were getting, considering they were two young adults with matching haircuts and skinny jeans.

Dan shrugged. “Not really. But it’s not as bad as when I threw up.”

Phil sighed. Dan was obviously upset about having to come to the A&E, not to mention how unwell he felt. The only thing they could hope for now was that they could get in and out as quickly as possible.

Eventually, Dan was called back. After some examination and discussion, the doctor concluded that Dan would need surgery. It was a simple one that wouldn’t take long, meaning Dan would be out sooner. It was scheduled for tomorrow, meaning Dan would have to stay overnight. Unfortunately, Phil wouldn’t be allowed to stay once visiting hours were over. Knowing Dan was in safe hands and he’d be called if anything went wrong, Phil kissed Dan before reluctantly leaving.

The surgery went well for Dan, and when Phil arrived, Dan was already awake and feeling much better. At least, that’s what Phil assumed. Dan was very loopy from the amount of morphine he received. It was hard to understand much of what he was saying, or even to get him to understand what was being said to him. Dan slept on and off through the day, Phil always by his side, occasionally waking up to talk gibberish. Phil didn’t mind; he thought Dan was awfully cute. Then again, when didn’t he?

In the evening, Dan was a bit more coherent, so the doctors talked to them about what was going to happen next.

“He’ll have to stay a few more days to make sure everything is going fine, and he’ll have lots of pills to take, but other than that he should be fine. The surgery was simple enough and as long as there’s no complications, he’ll be out of here in no time.”

Phil nodded intently as the doctor spoke, while Dan stared at him through glossy eyes. He understood what the doctor was saying and at the same time didn’t. He concluded that he would simply have Phil take care of whatever it was. With that thought, and no regards to the doctor who was still speaking, Dan turned back over and fell asleep.

“I’m hungry.”

Phil looked up from his phone to see Dan laying on his side, pouting. He raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t you eat two hours ago?”

Dan sighed, flopping on his back. “Yeah but that was gross hospital food. I would barely even call it a meal.”

Phil wasn’t too surprised Dan was complaining about being hungry; he had seen the meal size and it wasn’t very satisfying. Not to mention, Dan was still growing and ate a lot. Phil would know. Dan has proven that he can eat half of Phil’s food in two days. “Well, I don’t think you can get a second lunch here.”

“Not that I want any,” Dan grumbled, crossing his arms. “I miss real food. The kind you’d dress up fancy and go to an overpriced restaurant for.”

Phil rolled his eyes fondly at Dan’s dramatics. “Unfortunately, you’re not allowed to leave the hospital to visit such restaurants.”

Dan smiled slightly. “Well, there is such thing as fast food restaurants.”

Phil raised his eyebrows again.

Dan rolled over, giving Phil his best puppy eyes. “Will you be a kind boyfriend and get me McDonald’s?”

“No way, Dan,” Phil said, trying his best to sound stern. “That’s too risky.”

“It’ll be fine, you can wrap it up in a jacket. It won’t hurt me, if that’s what you’re worried about. My tummy’s fine now.”

Phil tried to stay stern, but the sad eyes and way Dan was pouting was making his heart ache.

“Phil,” Dan whined, “please?”

It wasn’t fair. Dan was too cute and Phil was too in love to say no. He stood up, giving in. “Fine.”

Dan’s face lit up into a big smile, making Phil’s heart squeeze with affection. “I love you Philly!”

Phil sighed, leaning down and giving Dan a kiss. “Love you too. But if I get caught it’s your fault.”

Dan shrugged. “Whatever, nerd. Now go get me some food.”

Phil left, shaking his head in exasperation. Dan waited restlessly for him to return, his stomach begging him for food. Finally, after what seemed to be forever, Phil returned with a jacket bundle that held the holy greasiness that was McDonald’s food. Dan made grabby hands for it, mouth watering with anticipation.

“Jeez, Dan calm down,” Phil snickered. He handed Dan the bundle, letting him unravel it to reveal a McDonald’s bag.

Dan tore open the bag and pulled out the burger container. He opened it and picked up the burger, taking a bite. He moaned. “God, this tastes like heaven.”

Phil watched with great amusement as Dan savored the preservative-packed burger like it was a five star meal. “Do you need a moment with your burger?”

“Shut up. You’d do the same thing if you tasted the hospital food here.” He practically inhaled the rest of his burger, then flopped back against the bed.

“There’s some fries in there as well,” Phil pointed out.

Dan’s eyes widened and he snatched up the bag, pulling out the fries. “You’re an angel,” he said breathlessly.

Phil snorted. “You’re welcome. Now share some with me.”

Dan held out the fries, allowing Phil to grab some. The two ate their fries in silence. Dan finished the fries off as fast as the burger, stuffing the empty container into the bag. “Seriously, Phil, thank you for that.”

Phil smiled, standing up so he could drop a kiss on Dan’s forehead. “Anything for you.”

Dan pretended to be disgusted, but his pink cheeks betrayed him.

“Now do me a favor and keep getting better, alright?”

Dan smiled softly. “I will.” He took Phil’s hand in his own, looking down like he always did whenever he said something affectionate. “I have you, after all. I know you’ll take care of me.”

And he was right. Phil would always be there for him, and Dan would do it right back. All because they loved each other.

#boofers #phanfic #phanfiction #phan fluff #phan sickfic #dap:sty #im so tired my eyes are burning

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massivedrickhead · 7 years

Text

One More Year: Chapter 30

I am so immensely sorry it has taken me so long to update. I have had a really stressful month, and I spent a large part of it pretty unwell. I'm better now, but my life is still a bit stressful at the minute so I can't promise updates will be more frequent. I'm also not really happy with how this chapter turned out, but I needed to move the time forward so I hope you all don't hate it.

I have no right to beg for reviews but if you can find it in you to leave me one/like/reblog, I'll be super grateful.

fanfiction.net

I do not own Pitch Perfect or any of its characters.

Chapter 30

Beca watched nervously as her dad looked at the sheet of paper that had her final grades on it.

High school was effectively over, they just had prom and then graduation. Then a final summer together before everyone went off to college.

Everyone except Beca that is.

Her dad sighed quietly before he smiled.

"You passed," he said, looking up from the paper. "Good job, Becs."

Beca let out a shaky sigh of relief and hugged him. A few months ago, he would have chewed her out for grades like this, but now he was just happy she'd passed. Her grades weren't strong enough to go to Barden, but she didn't care about that. She was just relieved she'd get to graduate with all her friends next week.

"So, now we should talk about what happens next," he said. "I'm gonna give you a year to figure out what you want to do. You don't have to get a job, but you can if you want to. You can work on your music or try and get an internship, or whatever you want. But don't waste it. At the end of the year, you'll either have a job, or you'll be applying for college." Beca opened her mouth to protest but her dad cut her off. "I know you don't want to go to college, but I don't want you to miss out on this opportunity. Deal?"

"Okay," Beca said. "Deal."

"I'm proud of you," he said, hugging her again.

"Thanks," she said, looking down at her grades again. She had worked hard for this. They all had. And tonight they were going to celebrate.

"Are you gonna tell your Mom?" He asked.

"Um, yeah I guess so," she said. It still felt weird hearing him talk about her.

"You guys are still talking?"

"We text every now and then, yeah," Beca said.

"Good," he said with a smile. "So, what time do you want me out of the house for tonight?" Her dad asked, returning to his coffee and newspaper.

"You don't have to leave the house," she said, "but people are gonna start arriving by seven."

"No, no, I know when I'm not wanted," he said with a wink.

"You're still going to Sheila's for a few days?" She asked.

"That's the plan," he said.

"Aren't you tired of doing the long distance thing?" She asked, after a small silence.

He shrugged. "It won't be forever. And she's worth all the effort it takes." He looked at her. "Why?"

"No reason," she said. "You're not worried she's gonna meet someone else? Someone better?"

"I'm shocked that you'd think there is a better man alive than me," he said, acting offended.

Beca laughed and shook her head.

"I trust her," he said. "And she trusts me. And you should trust Chloe."

Beca looked up and he gave her a knowing smile. "I do trust her," she said. "I know she'd never cheat or anything. But she's going to college. She's going to meet so many new people. What if she meets someone she likes better than me?" She'd never planned on voicing these worries to her dad, but she hadn't been able to stop herself. As soon as she'd gotten the text that morning from Chloe telling her she had gotten into Barden, she'd started worrying.

"Look, I'm not going to tell you that that isn't a possibility, because it is. She's going to a new place with a lot of new people. She's going to make a lot of new friends and have a lot of new experiences," he said.

"You aren't helping," Beca said with a groan.

"But I know Chloe loves you," he said, ignoring her interruption. "She really loves you, and I know you love her. I have absolute faith that you will both be fine. And remember, she's going to the college I work at, so I can always convince her professors to set her so much work that she won't have time to socialise," he added with another wink.

Beca laughed again. "That would be great, thanks."

Later that night, all her friends were gathered in her den talking excitedly about the future.

Beca's music was playing low in the background as they all just sat and talked.

"This summer is going to have to be awesome," Jesse said, taking a drink of beer he'd gotten his older brother to buy him. "It's our last summer of freedom. Our last one together."

"Jeez, Jess, you make it sound like we're dying," Aubrey said.

"I'm just saying, it's all gonna change when we go to college," he said.

"I mean, we're all going to Barden, apart from Beca. It's not like we're all spread across the country," Stacie said.

"Or maybe you're just lamenting that you won't be able to drink your shitty beer in my den?" Beca asked.

"Well if it's so shitty then I'll have that bottle back," he said, reaching to take it away from her.

"No," Beca said, drinking. "It's mine now."

The others laughed before they fell quiet again, all of them thinking about what was coming.

"You really don't think anything will change?" Jesse asked, looking around the room.

Chloe, who had been relatively quiet all night, squeezed Beca's hand a little tighter. She was sitting with her head on Beca's shoulder, one hand holding Beca's, the other stroking up and down Beca's arm.

"I think everything will change," Beca said, looking down at hers and Chloe's hands. She could feel a lump forming in her throat but she ignored it. "And…" she cleared her throat. "I'm gonna miss you guys. I'm gonna miss this."

"That's why we make this summer count," Jesse said. "Right?"

"Right," Benji said, nodding his head in agreement.

The others started talking about what they should do over the summer, and Beca squeezed Chloe's hand.

"We'll have to take a lot more pictures. I'm gonna need to create a whole new photo wall in my dorm room," Chloe said.

"Then we should start right now," Beca said, pulling out her phone and taking a quick selfie of the two of them. "I'm gonna need you to fill every inch of your walls with photographs of me. Just so everyone who goes in your room knows the score."

Chloe laughed. "Do you want me to wear an 'I love Beca' t-shirt too?"

"I mean I assumed those were the only t-shirts you owned." Beca said, causing Chloe to laugh more. "At least I know what to get you for a going away present now."

"You're such a weirdo," Chloe said laughing. The pair were unaware that the rest of the room had gone quiet to listen to them. "I want to spend every day of the next few weeks with you," Chloe said.

"Then that's what we'll do," Beca replied.

And so they did.

They spent a lot of time as a big group, but at the end of every hangout Beca and Chloe would go home together. Sometimes they'd go back to Beca's, sometimes to Chloe's, but they never slept alone that whole summer.

They would spend all day with their friends, and all night with each other.

"Do you think we're making it harder by doing this?" Chloe asked one night as they lay together, half tangled in their sheets.

"What do you mean?" Beca asked, tucking a strand of hair behind Chloe's ear.

"We're so used to being together all the time, isn't it going to make it harder when we have to be apart?"

"Maybe," Beca said, feeling the familiar gut-punch she got whenever she thought of Chloe not being there. "But I'd definitely regret not spending every second I could with you."

"Me too," Chloe said, leaning in to kiss her.

Beca could honestly say that that summer with Chloe and her friends was the best time of her life. If she hadn't had the black cloud of everyone leaving looming over her, she would have described it as perfect.

But every happy moment was tinged with sadness that it was all about to change. That they were all about to leave her.

On their last night together, Beca had cried quietly, staring up at the ceiling while Chloe slept next to her.

All of Chloe's clothes and the things she was taking with her were packed in boxes in her room. Even some of the photos from her wall had gone. Placed in some box for Chloe to put up in her new room.

"Please don't cry," Chloe whispered, reaching up to brush a tear from her cheek.

"I don't want you to leave me," Beca replied, choking on her words.

Chloe closed her eyes and forced herself to keep it together. "I'm scared too," she said. "I'm scared that I won't be able to handle the work load. I'm scared I won't get into the Bellas. I'm scared my eating will fall apart again. But I'm most afraid that I'll have to do it all without you." A tear slid down her cheek. "But I know you'll still be there for me. I know I can call you at anytime, and I know I'll still see you most weekends."

"Of course I'll be there for you," Beca said, wiping her eyes. "I'll be there anytime, day or night."

"And I'll be there for you too. I promise. You're not going to lose me," Chloe said.

"I just… I'm going to miss seeing you everyday," Beca said. "I'm going to miss sleeping next to you, and I'm going to miss waking up with you. I love you so much."

"I'm going to miss you too," Chloe said. She pulled Beca into a hug and held her tightly, fighting back her own tears as she felt Beca sob against her. "I love you more than I can say." She kissed Beca on the top of the head. "We can do this. I know we can."

The next morning, both Beca and Chloe did their best not to cry.

Beca managed to make it through breakfast, but Chloe started halfway through her cereal at the same time as her Mom.

"She isn't moving to France," Johnny said, trying desperately to lighten the mood as his Mom's and Chloe's crying had set the twins off.

Beca kept it together as she loaded up the last of Chloe's boxes into her truck. She would be driving Chloe while Chloe's Mom and dad would follow them.

She almost lost it when they were driving down the highway and Ed Sheeran's 'Castle on the Hill' started playing, but Chloe had managed to regain her composure by then, and she didn't want to set her off.

"I can't show up to my first day of college looking like I've spent the last 24 hours crying all the liquid out of me," she said, fixing her makeup.

"You remembered to pack your 'I love Beca' t-shirt right?"

"All ten of them," Chloe replied.

Beca had actually gotten her one as a joke, but she was planning to wear it anyway, even if it was just to sleep in.

All too soon, they arrived at the University and Beca and Chloe's parents helped her find her dorm and get all her stuff moved in.

Aubrey arrived not long after, her parents gave her a quick goodbye hug and left her to it. Beca wasn't sure what she expected from the Posens, but considering Chloe's Mom and dad were currently squeezing Chloe into the tightest hug she'd ever seen, it wasn't that.

"We're gonna meet up with Jesse and Benji outside their dorm and Stacie is coming later," Aubrey said, checking her phone. "Are you gonna come Beca?"

Beca looked at Chloe before shaking her head. "No, I'm gonna head back. It's high time you college kids started doing… college stuff."

"Beca," Chloe said softly. "You can still come hang out with us you know."

"I know," Beca said. "But not today. Someone might mistake me for a student and ask me a difficult question."

The people staying across the hall from them poked their heads in to say hello and both Beca and Chloe's parents decided this would be a good time to leave.

"I love you," Beca said as she hugged Chloe. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," Chloe replied, her voice cracking.

"I'm a phone call away, okay?"

"Okay," Chloe said, trying to force the tears back. She let out a shaky breath. "Okay." Beca took that as her cue to let go.

As Chloe hugged her parents again, Beca gave Aubrey a hug goodbye.

"I'll look after her," Aubrey said, quietly.

"I know you will."

Beca made the drive home in silence. She couldn't bring herself to listen to any music, because she knew every song would remind her of Chloe. And she didn't want to start crying in the middle of the highway.

She got home and was greeted with more silence. Her dad would be at work for the rest of the day.

There was something painfully familiar about it all.

She clipped Jasper's leash onto his collar, and they walked together into the woods, down towards her clearing.

It had started getting colder, and she pulled her jacket tighter.

She reached her clearing and took a seat where she always did.

The silence settled around her like an old comfortable blanket.

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