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amedetoiles · 4 years

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@baoshan-sanren ok so i was thinking about this all day since your meta ask and this is entirely your doing. please take responsibility.

cangse sanren, jiang fengmian, wei changze: the first junior trio to sweep into cloud recesses and give lqr such a gigantic headache that the mere sight of wei wuxian decades later makes him nearly qi deviate from the memory.

wei changze and jiang fengmian have essentially grown up together. they’re best friends and sworn brothers. there’s no bad blood here because, well, jiang fengmian has always been the next sect leader, he knows his own skills and can’t be bothered to brood about other people, and wei changze doesn’t care about politics. he’s happy to help the sect in whatever way it needs. he does his job well, doesn’t complain much (unless he’s griping at jfm to stop leaving all your fucking shit on the floor a-mian), and is happy to go on night hunts alongside jfm. he’s an average cultivator, more skilled at thrumming music than sword wielding, but he’s clever, fast, and above all, kind. he would never let anything happen to jfm. there’s some talk around him from too-nosy gossipers and a few uppity elders across the clans, but nobody really pays the brothers any mind. they’re kids after all.

they meet cangse sanren on a night hunt. her name already begets her reputation—a rogue cultivator, disciple to the famed immortal baoshan sanren. she’s beautiful, wickedly skilled, and curses so much that even the most vulgar of men and women on the field blush. they meet her while trying to take down a herd of soul-stealing demon beasts, and her sword stops a clawed paw from crushing jiang fengmian’s larynx. she takes one look at them afterward when they’re sweaty, soaked with acrid demon blood, and trying to catch their breaths, and promptly adopts them both as her own. she calls them fengfeng and a-ze, and anyone who has a problem with her boys will answer to cangse sanren’s fists.

by the time the trio make their way to gusu for lectures, their outrageous exploits are a well-known table story amongst all the other juniors of their generation. the trio comprised of the jiang heir, the jiang servant, and their rogue cultivator queen are said to have stolen all 40 hens from an affluent farmer once and redistributed them to smaller villages nearby that he had been forcing to pay an exorbitant fee for eggs. each stolen hen wore a curious talisman necklace that deterred the farmer from taking it back (only once did the man try to and he almost lost both eyes and a sensitive body part). they are extremely well-loved by all the civilians they have helped along the way—their night hunt skills are admired by many, and the reputation bodes well for yunmengjiang sect, so the elders leave jfm alone for hanging around with a rogue cultivator.

plus wei changze can apparently drink anyone under the table, and on the first night at cloud recesses, the trio gets half the junior class wasted (cangse tells wei changze drunkenly that he’s perfect to his immense embarrassment but she promptly forgets this the next day). with the trio at the center, cloud recesses become a constant whisper of jokes and giggles and midnight fishing escapades. every night lqr considers breaking the no alcohol in cloud recesses rule.

all in all cangse finds cloud recesses utterly stifling. she prefers to play in the cold streams and lounge on the mountains than sit in the hall listening to lqr drone on about gusulan’s most boring collection of rules. more often than not she gets herself thrown out by lqr for arguing against every tenet he lectures to be the epitome of righteous cultivation. no punishment phases her. she even manages to make handstands look obnoxiously like a rebellion. she is wild, carefree, unapologetically fierce, and jiang fengmian loves her. wei changze of course coos at him relentlessly about this.

one evening, the junior class are led out to night hunt with lqr, whose dictatorial and by-the-book handling of their offensive and defensive groups make cangse shake with frustration. her vocal complaining gets her relegated to a holding group, so she isn’t there when jiang fengmian and wei changze get attacked. it’s the screaming that runs cangse’s blood cold. when she arrives, the beasts are already subdued but jiang fengmian is barely conscious on the ground, bleeding from his entire right shoulder, and holding onto wei changze, who is too still and deathly pale, with a gaping wound in his chest. he had put himself in front of jiang fengmian.

cangse is livid, and it’s only the junior disciples who hold her back that stops her from lunging at lan qiren in the middle of the forest. she screams that his hypocrisy, ignorance, and three thousand bullshit gusulan rules will be the death of the cultivation world. she gets 250 beatings for her insolence. she takes them all with stony unflinching eyes that never move from lan qiren’s glare. afterward, she forgoes treatment and holds vigil at wei changze’s bedside for five days and four nights until he wakes up. she plays nursemaid, and he laughs at her terrible congee but finishes every bowl anyway. they smile at one another, and jiang fengmian knows four things.

first, he’s lost her.

second, he’s loved her since the moment he saw her, with her messy ponytail swept up by the wind and glowing with the electric blue of her carefree spirit.

third, her home is in the sky.

jiang fengmian tells wei changze the evening before lectures come to a close to leave with cangse. wei changze laughs, says a-mian having you been drinking without me, then sobers immediately when he realizes jfm is serious. jfm adds this moment to the handful of times wei changze has called him ge, manages to sit through the slight sheen of betrayal in wei changze’s grey eyes, pretends he doesn’t have red crescents in his clenched palms, and remains firm until wei changze agrees.

(fourth, jiang fengmian never wants to see wei changze bleeding because of him again.)

the gusulan lectures end anti-climatically but everyone’s had enough excitement in that last night hunt to not care. lan qiren is conspicuously absent from the formal farewells. (word of lan qiren’s missing goatee filters through the cultivation world in the ensuing weeks). jiang fengmian says goodbye to cangse sanren and wei changze when they part ways on a mountain outside of gusu.

he returns to yunmengjiang with half a heart and half a soul. he settles into his jiang heir duties, ignores the telltale absence at his side, and eventually ascends to the head in his father’s retirement. he agrees to an arranged marriage with meishan yu sect without much complaint. every few months, jiang fengmian meets cangse and changze in yiling. there’s an unmistakable distance between them now, but cangse is still a bright force to be reckoned with, and wei changze still calls him a-mian, and gets drunk with him the night before his wedding.

he meets their son during one visit. wei wuxian is an adorable combination of both of them—warm and bright with laughter, eyes full of mischief and kindness. he calls jfm shushu and bounces with happiness when jfm spoils him with gifts.

their meetings grow less frequent through the years as jiang fengmian is caught up in sect leader duties, and his best friends roam the world, helping the weak and the poor, free from the monotonous drivel of discussion conferences and politics. he is in yiling one evening–it’s been years, and their letters have stopped, he is nostalgic of old times, wonders where their journey has taken them, until he hears a commotion further down the market, an angry stall keeper and a shivering boy. jiang fengmian see wei wuxian cowering on the streets, in bloodied rags of clothes, pale and too thin, and his heart shatters.

jiang fengmian doesn’t have time to grieve. at lotus pier, his best friends’ child looks up at him with wide apologetic grey eyes that are too painfully familiar while his own spitfire son screams through closed doors. (years ago, when wei changze had woken up, he had held jfm’s shaking hand and said, a-mian, in lotus pier, you never have to apologize for things that are not your fault.)

the gossipers say jiang fengmian loved cangse sanren so much that he is raising her son. he favors him even above his own son, they whisper, that perhaps the rogue cultivator’s brat even is his own.

it’s true that he see cangse in the messy tangles of wei wuxian’s ponytail, in his sharp focus when he wields his blade like a third limb, in his bright unrestrained laughter, in his carefree spirit. but those grey eyes belong to jfm’s brother. he watches wwx put himself in front of jc when his son’s temper gets him in trouble with the taller and bigger kids in the streets, and all jiang fengmian remembers is the man who refused to leave his side, who pushed jfm out of the way and bled.

jiang fengmian lives as the jagged piece of a soul missing two parts, he watches wwx grow with each day into the perfect embodiment of his best friends, and thinks he understands what it means to attempt the impossible.

#the untamed #mdzs #cangse sanren #mdzs fic #cql #陈情令 #mdzs meta #!mine #!fic #!meta #WHAT THE FCK IS THIS YOU ASK? I HAVE NO IDEA.#PLEASE HAVE THIS DRIVEL #OH FCK DID I MAKE MYSELF LIKE JFM???

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btsqualityy · 4 years

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Scripted: Part 15

Namjoon x Reader; Jimin x Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, President!Namjoon, Head of Security!Jimin

Warnings: (Reluctant) open relationship, mentions of cheating, mentions of a miscarriage, descriptions of violence and injuries

“Clear the way people! Move now!!” Jimin shouted with authority as he ran alongside the stretcher that Namjoon was laid out on, you following close behind with a flurry of security flanking you. Once you all made it into the hospital, doctors came from what seemed like every direction to work on Namjoon while Jimin worked on locking down the hospital to keep it safe.

“You’re ok Joon, you’re ok,” you whispered to him when you heard a loud groan escape his throat. You figured that he was in pain from both the bullets inside of him and from whatever the doctors were doing to him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look down at his chest.

“Ok, he’s stable but it’s touch and go so we’re gonna have to get him into surgery now!” One of the doctors exclaimed.

“First Lady Kim, you’re gonna wanna back up,” one of the nurses said to you and you nodded, standing up straight and backing up slightly but still holding onto Namjoon’s hand. The team of doctors counted to three before they all lifted the sheet that Namjoon was laying on and moved his body onto a hospital bed.

“Y/N, you have to let him go,” Jimin said as he walked up behind you, gently taking ahold of your arm but you shook your head rapidly.

“I can’t leave him!” You exclaimed.

“He has to go into surgery, he’ll be fine,” Jimin assured you, trying to pry you away from Namjoon but you just clutched onto his hand tighter.

“First Lady Kim, we’ll come tell you as soon as we have any news,” a doctor assured you. “But he needs to get into surgery right away.”

“...Ok,” you relented, fresh tears falling down your cheeks as you looked down at Namjoon and released his hand. You watched tearfully as the doctors and nurses swiftly wheeled the bed that Namjoon was on down the hallway, disappearing behind double doors that read ‘Only Medical Personnel Beyond This Point’.

“Come on, we’ll wait in the waiting room,” Jimin said as he wrapped one arm around your waist and you leaned into him as he led you away from the blood-spattered ER.

Just as the two of you were about to head into the waiting room, you heard a flurry of commotion near the door and when you looked up, your eyes widened as it seemed like all of your worst fears were coming true.

“No,” you whispered, your head starting to hurt from how much this night was turning into a literal nightmare.

“Oh my God,” Jimin whispered in shock and you broke out of his arms as you ran towards the door, almost colliding with the stretcher that Momo was laid out on.

“Mo, are you ok?!” You screamed, the very sight of your best friend on a stretcher effectively freaking you out.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I promise,” she swore, holding up her left arm, which had a thick bandage wrapped around it. “I got hit by one of the bullets when it ricocheted off of the railing of the staircase but it’s a shallow wound.”

“Thank God,” you muttered, throwing your arms around her in a hug, which she returned happily.

“How’s Namjoon?” She questioned and the emergency worker who had been pushing the stretcher that Momo was on started to move again, so you walked with them.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “When we got here, the doctors stabilized him but he’s in really bad shape and they basically moved him into surgery as soon as they were sure that he was still breathing.” The emergency worker wheeled Momo into a free room, before bowing to you and walking out to give the two of you privacy.

“What about Jungkook and Taehyung?” Momo asked and your eyes widened again.

“What about them?” You wondered.

“They got hit by bullets too,” Momo informed you and you couldn’t stop the gasp that slid past your lips.

“I didn’t know that,” you said. “I was so focused on Joon, I probably didn’t even notice that they got wheeled in as well.”

“When the shooting started, I got hit and Jungkook pushed me down to try and cover me but then he got hit in the leg,” Momo recounted. “I think maybe in somewhere else too, then Taehyung tried to help the both of us and he ended up getting shot too. I’m not sure where though because I effectively passed out after that.”

“What the fuck?” You huffed in disbelief. “Do you know if anyone else is hurt?”

“Not sure,” Momo shrugged. “We were the only ones outside though, so I’m pretty sure it was only us.”

“I’m so sorry that you got caught in the literal crossfire,” you apologized and Momo shook her head instantly.

“Not your fault,” she said sternly. “It’s just some fucking psycho, nothing to do with you.”

“But still,” you shrugged and just before Momo could respond, a doctor stepped into the room.

“I’m sorry First Lady Kim, but we need to work on extracting some bullet fragments from Ms. Hirai,” she said.

“Of course,” you nodded before looking back at Momo. “I’ll be back to check on you.”

“Alright, and see if you can find out any updates on Jungkook, please?” She requested and you smiled softly.

“You know it,” you told her, leaning over and kissing her cheek before stepping out of the room. Once you were back out in the hallway, there was still the buzz of activity going on and you found yourself suddenly feeling faint as the reality of everything that had happened in the past hour began to set in. However, like the angel he is, Jimin was by your side in a second.

“Hey, you ok?” He wondered and you shook your head.

“Feeling a little dizzy,” you admitted and Jimin’s eyes widened.

“You haven’t eaten since this morning before we left my place, have you?” He wondered and you shook your head. “Let’s go get you some water and a candy bar then, yeah?”

.................................................

About two hours later, you were sat in the waiting room with Jimin, still in your blood-stained dress with Jimin’s suit jacket hanging from your shoulders. Namjoon was still surgery as far as you knew, Momo was under anesthesia from getting the bullet pieces out of her arm, and you still hadn’t heard anything back on Namjoon’s, Jungkook’s or Taehyung’s conditions.

In the two hours that you had been waiting, the only thing that played in your mind was the argument that you and Namjoon had had before leaving the Blue House just a few hours ago. You couldn’t help but to be overcome with a huge sense of guilt, not for the shooting, but for how you had never noticed how Namjoon felt about loosing your son. You felt careless, self-centered, and like a terrible fucking wife.

“Hey, you alright in there?” Jimin asked and you looked over at him, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could even stop them.

“I had a miscarriage,” you blurted and Jimin’s eyes widened.

“What? When?”

“A year ago,” you answered. “It happened a little while after Namjoon had announced his candidacy for President.”

“Do you want to maybe, talk about it?” Jimin asked cautiously and you nodded.

“Once Namjoon decided to run for President, he was never home,” you began. “He was always at his campaign headquarters, or giving a speech, or out shaking hands with people. It was a hard adjustment for me because we went from being together all the time and being able to spend time together to seeing each other twice a month. About two months into campaigning though, I found out that I was pregnant and we were both so excited because we had always talked about having kids.”

“Keep going,” he encouraged you, reaching over and grabbing one of your hands in his.

“One day, I was really insistent on him coming home and not working late because I was pregnant and emotional and just wanted my husband at home with me. He said that he needed to work and we ended up getting into this huge fight, and I went to bed angry at him. When I woke up, I was soaked in blood,” you said. “It was the most blood that I had ever seen in my life at once, up until tonight.”

“I’m so sorry baby bird,” he whispered, scooting closer to you and wrapping his free arm around your shoulders.

“You know how Namjoon and I were arguing before we left the Blue House?” You wondered, knowing that he had probably heard the shouting and Jimin nodded. “Namjoon cheated that first time with Hyejin because after I had the miscarriage, I treated him like shit.”

“That’s no excuse for him to just go off and cheat on you though,” Jimin pointed out.

“I know but it just all makes so much fucking sense now,” you huffed. “I pushed Namjoon away in order to cope with my grief, all while being oblivious to the fact that he was grieving too. It took years for Namjoon to really trust me and to trust our relationship and to trust the fact that he wasn’t going to have to leave me like he had to leave Hyejin, and I ruined all of that in a second.”

“You can’t blame yourself for all that’s happened between the two of you.”

“I’m not,” you assured him. “But I am realizing just how big of a role I played in all of this. I started it by hurting Namjoon, then he hurt me by cheating with Hyejin, then I hurt him again by telling him that our marriage would be a marriage in name only once we decided to do the arrangement when I knew full well that he was trying his best to earn my forgiveness back, and he hurt me by starting to sleep with other women once our marriage was open. It’s been a vicious ass cycle of us just hurting each other over and over again, and I feel fucking guilty that I let it go on this long. Now, he’s on an operating table with fucking bullet holes in his chest and his last words to me were ‘Fine’ in response to me saying that I really do want a fucking divorce!”

“Ok stop, you have to calm down,” Jimin told you firmly, pulling you into a tight hug and holding you there as you wrapped your arms around him as well. “Match my breathing.” You did so, taking slow and deep inhales before letting them out again. The two of you continued this for a few minutes, until your breathing returned to normal again.

“I’m sorry for springing all of that on you,” you muttered against his shoulder and you felt him shake his head.

“Don’t be sorry baby, I know it’s a lot going on right now and you’re handling it the best that you can,” Jimin replied. You opened your eyes and saw a doctor walking into the waiting room, making you immediately let go of Jimin and stand up. Jimin did the same, the both of you turning to face the doctor.

“First Lady Kim,” the doctor said, bowing to you. “I’m Dr. Song.”

“Hello,” you greeted him. “How’s Namjoon?”

“President Kim’s injuries are just as bad as we anticipated them to be, if not worse,” Dr. Song announced grimly. “He lost a lot of blood, and the bullets did extensive damage to his chest cavity. As a result, he’s now in a coma.”

“A coma?” You squeaked. “And how long is that going to last?”

“Well, only time can tell,” Dr. Song shrugged. “We were able to get all of the bullets out but the damage is so bad that his body just cannot handle extended surgery right now so although we know that the damage was bad, we aren’t exactly sure to what extent and that makes it hard to estimate.”

“Oh, what about Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook?” You asked and the doctor grimaced.

“Mr. Jeon was hit in the leg and although it’s pretty bad from what I heard, he’ll be fine with some intensive physical therapy in order to regain full, functional use of his left leg,” Dr. Song said. “As for Kim Taehyung, his injuries were a bit more extensive.”

“How much more extensive?” Jimin spoke up.

“He was hit in the shoulder and in the stomach, which are two particularly dangerous places to be shot in,” Dr. Song replied. “He’s still in surgery as of right now, but he was stable when he was brought in.”

“Thank you so much, Dr. Song,” you thanked him and he just nodded softly.

“As soon as I find out any more news on the three of them, you’ll be the first person to know,” Dr. Song assured you and you smiled softly as he bowed again before turning and walking out of the waiting room. You then turned back to Jimin, fresh tears falling from your eyes again and Jimin just held his arms open, allowing you to follow into them.

“This is like a nightmare,” you sobbed, making Jimin just wrap his arms tighter around you.

.................................................

“Y/N-ah, I know that you’re upset but don’t make a dumb decision,” Yoongi spat as he paced in front of you, and you looked up at him with a glare.

“All I wanna do is make a statement to the press about Namjoon’s, Taehyung’s, Jungkook’s, and Momo’s conditions,” you said. “I didn’t realize that doing that would be counted as stupid.”

“Usually, it wouldn’t be but given the fact that someone just tried to kill your husband a few hours ago, it’s dumb,” Yoongi said and you looked over at Jimin for help, only to see him with a hard frown on his face.

“I agree,” Jimin spoke up, knowing that you were trying to get help from him. “It’s too dangerous right now, especially since we still haven’t caught whoever did it. Can’t you just release a statement through the Blue House?”

“Look, Namjoon has never shied away from anything regarding this job and since whoever did this has made it to where he can’t stand up for himself, I’m going to be the one to do it for him,” you stated firmly.

“Y/N-,” Yoongi started to say but you cut him off.

“Look, I’m not going to debate about this any longer. Now, either we can be smart about this and you can set up the press and Jimin can arrange proper security measures, or you can both be stupid and let me go out there alone. Either way, I’m still going out there.”

“Jimin-ssi?” Yoongi said gruffly and both of you looked over at him, seeing the internal struggle that he was going through.

“....Fine,” he finally relented and you smiled at him. “We’ll get someone up here with extra clothes for you while I go and make the necessary arrangements.”

“Thank you,” you told him and he nodded stiffly at you before getting up and walking away.

45 minutes later, you were standing near the entrance of the hospital, watching through the window as Yoongi addressed the crowd of reporters, journalists and camera people.

“We all set?” You wondered as you turned to face Jimin and he nodded as he listened to whoever was talking to him through his earpiece.

“About one more minute,” he said as he turned to face you, reaching out and fixing the lapel of the blazer that you had changed into. “Remember Y/N, I’m giving you one minute out there to say whatever you need to say and if I so much as see someone move wrong, I’m not above running to you and dragging you back in here, got it?”

“Got it,” you nodded, a soft smile coming onto your face when Jimin leaned forward and kissed your lips lightly.

“Alright, come on,” Jimin said, pushing open the hospital door and allowing you to walk out first. He stayed close to you, the two of you walking over to the makeshift podium that the hospital had set up outside. Yoongi lightly tapped your hand as the two of you passed each other, and you stepped up onto the podium while Jimin, Yoongi, and the rest of your security flanked the podium.

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice and at such a late hour,” you began your statement, looking out into the crowd as you spoke into the microphone. “As I’m sure all of you are aware, my husband, President Kim Namjoon, was shot tonight as we made our way to a Children’s Benefit. While the President’s injuries are extensive, he is still alive. However, he is now in a coma as a result of his injuries and we are not sure how long it will take him to wake up as of now.”

“In addition to my husband’s injuries, my personal secretary Momo Hirai, Chief of Staff Kim Taehyung, and Minster of Economy and Finance Jeon Jungkook all sustained injuries in the shooting as well. Now, any questions?” All of the reporters and journalists hands went up in the air and you randomly pointed to a small woman in the front. “Yes?”

“What is the extent of both Minster Jeon’s and Chief of Staff Kim’s injuries?” She questioned. “From the footage that exists, it looked like they were both injured pretty badly.”

“For privacy reasons, I am not allowed to disclose that information as their families are still being contacted and notified,” you said, pointing to a man in the back who had his hand up.

“As President Kim will be presumably be out of commission for a while, even after waking up from this coma, do you think he’ll resume his Presidential duties?” He asked.

“Well, I can’t exactly say. However, I do know that serving our great country and the people that live in it has been my husband’s greatest mission in life so I think even if he can’t resume his duties as soon as he wakes up, Prime Minster Min has his full confidence.”

“And you?” Another reported spoke up. “Does he have your full confidence?”

“Absolutely,” you nodded. “Prime Minster Min was endorsed personally by my husband and they share the same sense of duty so I believe that our country will be in great hands while my husband recovers. Now, one last question.” You said as you pointed towards a middle aged man that stood near the middle of the crowd.

“In regards to the people who did this, what do you want to happen to them once they are caught?” He wondered. “I only ask because your husband has notoriously been against death sentences and I’d like to know your thoughts.” You tilted your head to the side lightly, thinking about the question for a few seconds.

“I hope that they burn in hell,” you smiled, a flurry of sound coming from the crowd and an increase of camera flashes started to happen. “No further questions.”

.................................................

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chibsytelford · 4 years

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Terrible Things

*** GIF CREDIT TO CREATOR ***

Authors Note - I’m back again with another sad Angel fic. This wasn’t a request but I was listening to Terrible Things” by Mayday Parade and got this fic idea.

I’m not gonna lie to you, it’s sad as fuck and I apologise in advance.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bllr63yMszw - song link

Warnings - slight mention of cancer

Taglist - @agirllovespasta @everyhowlmarksthedead @rebel-without-cause-x @whyisgmora @sadeyesgf @sheeshgivemeabreak @lady-pswrld @scuzmunkie @elcococruz @angelreyesgirl @trulysuccubus @angelxshiba @blessedboo @xx--day-dreamer--xx @thisishowdynastiesareborn @gemini0410 @starrynite7114 @fangirlingaesthetics @jadesamhart @talicat713 if you would like added/removed from my taglist let me know :)

"Pop, can you tell me about mom?" Angel knew that question would come at some point from his son Danilo. He was a teenager now and Angel knew he would be more curious about his mom after seeing all the mothers dropping their children off to school every morning. When Danilo was younger Angel showed him pictures of his mama, and always told him "that's your mom, and she loves us so much". It always broke Angel's heart thinking of her and talking about her, but he wanted Danilo to know who his mother was.

He vowed to tell Dan about her when he asked even though he knew that he probably wouldn't get through it without breaking down. 15 years later and the pain was still indescribable and very very raw. She was the love of Angel's life and he knew he would never find anyone like you.

Angel sat Danilo down at the table and patted his knee. "Are you sure you wanna know Dan?" He asked his son.

"Si pops" Danilo told him and that was the encouragement Angel needed to start talking.

By the time I was your age, I'd give anything

To fall in love truly was all I could think

That's when I met your mother, the girl of my dreams

The most beautiful woman that I'd ever seen.

"When I first saw her, she took my breath away instantly. She was struggling to carry shopping bags to her car so I offered to help being the gentlemen I am" Angel smiled sadly at the memory. He can still see her struggling to juggle 6 bags with 2 arms. She refused help at first but Angel didn't take no for an answer and grabbed the bags from her causing her to smile. And from that moment on he knew he wouldn't let this woman leave his life.

"She had this smile that lit up every single room she walked into son, you would have loved it like I did". It was Danilos turn to smile sadly.

"I really wish I could have seen that smile pops, but I've seen pictures of it and she was so beautiful" Danilo told his dad.

"She really was Dan" Angel confirmed.

"What happened next? When did you see her again?" Angel was coping ok telling this part of the story, they were happy memories which filled his life with pure and utter joy.

She said, "boy can I tell you a wonderful thing?

I can't help but notice you staring at me

I know I shouldn't say this, but I really believe

I can tell by your eyes that you're in love with me."

"Well, I'm not going to lie to you son. I followed her home" Angel smiled sheepishly at his son. "Never do that though kiddo" he warned Dan and ruffled his hair.

"I watched her go into her house and I just knocked on the door" Angel laughed. "No plan, no nothing". When she opened the door I just stood there and stared at her like an idiot, she asked me how I knew where she stayed, so I just shrugged and flashed her my best smile"

Angel smiled at the memory. He will never forget the look she gave him. She wasn't scared or pissed off or annoyed. She was happy and Angel knew that she knew he was in love with her already. He had never felt the butterflies he felt when she shook her head softly and smiled her beautiful smile at him.

He was smitten and boy did she know it. "She literally said to me - "I can tell by your eyes that you're in love with me" - "and I didn't deny it. I'm glad I didn't".

"She sounds wonderful dad, what happened next? What did you guys get up to?" Angel was so glad Danilo wanted to learn more about his mother. He knew he would want to say some point and he was glad it was when he was old enough to understand.

Now most of the time we'd have too much to drink and we'd laugh at the stars and we'd share everything

Too young to notice and too dumb to care

Love was a story that couldn't compare

"We were still pretty young back then, so we spent most of our time getting drunk under the stars. Our favourite place was a little hut down on the beach. We don't know who owned it but we claimed it as our own" Angel took her there for a first date and it soon became their favourite place to go. They kept a blanket and some pillows under the bench at the hut for when they were too drunk to drive home.

They said their first “I love you’s” there, and Angel found out he was going to be a father there.

I said, "girl can I tell you a wonderful thing?

I made you a present with paper and string

Open with care now, I'm asking you please

You know that I love you will you marry me?"

"I proposed to her there too" Angel smiled sadly at the memory. "I wrapped up a ring box, and put some string and ribbon on top. I told her it was just a little gift but really it was a ring". Angel didn't know what the perfect way to propose was. He had never thought he would get married and he didn't really have any serious relationships so this was all new territory for him. "As she opened it, I went behind her and got down on one knee. She turned around and was crying but that beautiful smile lit up her face".

"And she said yes" Dan confirmed.

"That she did kid, she made me the happiest man alive".

Now son, I'm only telling you this because life can do terrible things

You'll learn one day, and I hope and I pray that God shows you differently

The hardest part was coming up for Angel. He had told Danilo some of the happier memories Angel and his mother shared but he knew that he owed Danilo the whole truth. He knew Dan could handle it, he just didn't know if he could handle telling Dan.

"This next part Dan, isn't sunshine and rainbows. All of it isn't happy memories but I want to tell you the truth. I'm telling you because life can do terrible and awful things and I just want you to be ready for what life can unexpectedly throw at you" He reached out and grabbed his son's hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss before placing it onto his own cheek and cuddling it.

She said, "boy can I tell you a terrible thing?

It seems that I'm sick and I've only got weeks

Please don't be sad now, I really believe

You were the greatest thing that ever happened to me

"Everything was going great. We were married and were expecting you. You were due in a few weeks and it was supposed to be the best time of our lives, well it was, but also the fucking hardest" Angel couldn't stop the few tears that spilled from his eyes. He wasn't ashamed of crying in front of his son. It was a natural human trait so he didn't wipe them away.

"She called me at work. Asked me to come home quickly. I thought she was in labour with you so I drove home as quickly as I could. When I got home she was sitting on the kitchen floor cuddling the blanket she knitted for you". Dan left the table for a few seconds and came back holding the very same blanket that his mom made for him.

"I love this blanket pops" Dan told Angel.

"I know you do son, I know you do" Angel grabbed Dan's hand again and resumed talking.

"Anyway, she told me that she had cancer, and the doctor's said she might just stay alive long enough to give birth to you" Angel's world stopped right then and there.

She didn't tell Angel that she had a feeling she was sick. She lost some hair and her bones ached, she wasn't eating and was sick, but she played it off as pregnancy symptoms and Angel will never forgive himself for believing her or for not pushing it. She went to the doctor's alone and she told them how she felt so sick and tired constantly, and she didn't just think it was the pregnancy. The doctor's confirmed she had cancer and gave her only a few weeks to live.

"I picked her up and sat her on my knee, cuddling her, letting her cry for hours and hours. It was the worst moment of my life" Angel was now crying hysterically having to relive that moment again and Dan went over and pulled him in for a cuddle of his own. Angel grabbed onto him for dear life, refusing to let go for a while.

When Angel was finally composed enough to talk he continued. "She died right after giving birth to you mate. Her body couldn't take it. She pushed through the pain long enough to bring me an amazing gift. She gave me happiness and sadness in one go. I was ecstatic to have a mini me, but heartbroken that I would raise you on my own and you would never meet the love of my life, your mama".

Angel had help from his own pops Felipe, and his brother EZ and the rest of the MC he was in. They all helped Angel grieve and to raise Danilo and he will forever be thankful to them all for that.

So don't fall in love there's just too much to lose

If you're given the choice then I'm begging you choose to walk away, walk away

Don't let it get you, I can't bear to see the same happen to you.

Angel didn't want to scare Danilo away from love. Away from something that could make him as happy as it made Angel. The chance to have his own kids. But he also didn't want Danilo to feel the sheer pain that he does every single day of his life. To wake up in the morning crying, having nightmares every single night of the exact moment he lost his wife. His partner. His everything.

"Dan, I'm not going to lie to you. I haven't lied to you all night. It hurts everyday man, every single day I think of your mom, all the memories, all the laughs, all the tears, all the arguments and it hurts like hell. I'm not trying to scare you away from love, but please, if you can avoid it, do it".

Angel knew it was so selfish of him to say that, but he would rather be selfish than watch his son go through what he has.

"I love you so much buddy, never forget that". Angel pulled Dan into his chest and kissed his forehead. He was glad to have got some things off his chest. Only Felipe and EZ knew everything, and now Danilo did too.

“I love you too dad”.

Angel just wished that Dan would never forget his mother.

#angel reyes imagine #angel reyes fanfic #mayans mc #angel reyes

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pocket-void · 3 years

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Oh! Actually it slipped my mind but here’s the short story I wrote for my creative writing class. It’s not very long and it’s mostly a mood piece as my prof mentioned, but I like it ok. ^///^

(I actually recorded an audio reading of it for a friend of mine but I do not like it lmao, it sounds really melodramatic. He liked it though.)

Uuuh general heads up that it’s eldritch horror themed?

From the Journal of J. M. Jassby

I know now that I’m not in Hell.

To some degree I had always known, but a part of me honestly would have preferred that I be dead. But now, face to face with something my eyes had once ached to see again, I know.

This place is far, far worse.

I’m haunted. Haunted by these sights that once made me smile. Chased by what is, in a cruel twist of fate, what I had always wished for. What once would have made me weep with joy now only evokes within me an unspeakable terror. It’s not fair. I still feel tears in my eyes when I see them, but they’re nowhere near joyous, and they only blur my vision when I need it most; as I frantically weave between the rocky landscapes to find somewhere I can catch my breath. It’s not fair. I don’t want to remember them like this. I shouldn’t have to run when I see them. I shouldn’t have to feel sick to my stomach when I hear their laugh, or scramble to hide myself behind something when I hear their footsteps. Why? Why am I here? It’s not fair.

I don’t even have the time to grieve.

It mocks me. It’s on purpose, I know it. With their faces, with their voices. It knows, it has to. It knows how much each word digs its way into my already battered heart. It lures me out from hiding with its sweet promises and facades as if this were a fun game of charades, and knowingly laughs in the face of my despair. It knows. I know that it knows, that I am but a foolish and desperate woman who would fall for the same tricks over and over and over again with the stupid, naive hopes that it’ll somehow be different this time. That this time, I could possibly feel the warmth of holding my child in my arms again. That this time, I'd be able to lovingly kiss my husband's sleepy, unshaven face while looking into his eyes. I wish I could at least remember what color they were. Is that why I still look back? How could it possibly know?

It’s not fair.

It won’t leave me alone. I see it everywhere, and even if I don’t, it’s still there. I know because I can hardly breathe whenever it’s near. Which is often. Or maybe always. No, the tightness in my chest can’t just be from fear alone. It’s just...oh what do I even call it. It’s everything, but also nothing. Just like here. I’m in every nightmare that I could and couldn’t have possibly imagined having all at once, yet there’s nothing here. Nothing at all! Just dust, and sand, and rocks, and the pitch black sky that beckons to me. It tells me to stop running. And I agree. I don’t know why I still am either. There isn’t anywhere to go.

Perhaps a part of me still hopes, but I know that hope was dashed the moment I saw my son’s face turn into that...thing. I see it everytime I close my eyes. His smile twisting open into an endless array of jagged teeth, his eyes melting into black voids that would quickly begin to run down his face, and his cheerful laugh would morph into the distorted cackles of a monster. A part of me is still grateful that I can see my son’s face at all, but that’s probably why it laughs at me, isn’t it. Maybe I deserve it. As long as I still can’t let go, it will continue to feed me these false hopes while it mercilessly tears at what I had already barely been able to consider my sanity.

I miss them. I miss them so much. I can’t possibly describe in written words how much this hurts.

It hurts.

I ask myself sometimes if I would have preferred how my life was before. It’s such a tough choice. I hate to say that, because what kind of a person am I to think being endlessly chased by a monster is somehow better than my colorless home? It wasn’t always like that of course, but it felt like a nightmare too. Just...a different kind.

Now that I think about it, what difference did it truly make? I couldn’t speak to anybody. I couldn’t make out what anyone was saying. Hell, I couldn’t even recognize my own son’s face! It got so bad that I couldn’t even name the color of my sister’s hair and we were twins! Oh god I still don’t know...and I hate to admit that maybe that monster does.

I don’t even know when it started happening. I just remember it happening so suddenly. I woke up one morning and my husband didn’t have any eyes. None. Like they were simply wiped off his face. He laughed at me then, but I never saw them again. He kept laughing at me every time I told him, until he didn’t have a mouth to laugh with anymore. By then I couldn’t even talk to him. I’d speak but it was as if nobody could hear me. They’d gesture at me strangely and guide me to the nearest couch. I would scream. Scream at these faceless strangers with only the outline of someone I thought I loved. Eventually I couldn’t even go outside anymore, it was just too much. Or perhaps too little.

Surely I was losing my mind. Oh how terribly unlucky I must be! I remember crying, thinking it must’ve been something akin to alzheimers. And I remember cursing the terrible fate that must have befallen me. Why else couldn’t I recognize anybody? Why else couldn’t I register anybody’s voice? Why else couldn’t I even close my eyes and imagine my child’s smiling face for just a modicum of comfort? It wasn’t fair.

And to think that I was almost fully resigned to that hideous fate.

But my face in the mirror was always crystal clear.

I would stare at it for hours.

And I would loathe what reflected back at me from the deepest depths of my soul.

“Why?” I would ask. “Why are you here?”

In that nightmarish haze where I had become stuck between the real and unreal. I thought that I was somehow in Hell.

I must’ve been, I thought, for I couldn't imagine a place worse than somewhere I could never see nor remember my loved one’s faces ever again.

Maybe that’s why I’m still here.

Maybe that’s why I’m still running.

Even if these cherished faces are what ultimately kill me, I can’t bring myself to forget them again.

I just think that’s...unfair.

#im very tired and busy with work but ill be back u-u #mock writes #The Withering Beyond

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salamanderskin · 4 years

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Comfort

cr//it//ical r/o/l/e (m) sickfic. This is one of my more favourite fever scenarios I’ve written, I’m very happy with it though idk if the rest will make any sense if you don’t know the show.

After a near drowning in episode 40, Nott has a panic attack, Caduceus has wet fur and the start of a cold. They bond over their shared misgivings about seafaring life and give each other some comfort.

Or... Caduceus leverages Nott’s caring instincts to calm her down. Platonic intimacy ensues.

It has been hours since they left the water.

Whole hours, which means Nott is fine, she is safe, everything is fine and she did not drown and she can breathe just fine. So why then are her lungs still working like she'll never breathe again?

She knows this feeling, knows it just her body telling her she's dying when she's quite safe here in hammock on the Squall Eater. She's felt it a thousand times, knows it always passes, but it's horrible horrible horrible.

Where's Caleb? Where's Frumpkin?

In their own hammock, with the cat curled tight on the wizard's own chest. He doesn't look exactly peaceful either, but they are asleep. If they were in an inn or camped outside she would take her own place on his chest, or at his feet, and let his steady breathing remind her own lungs how they are supposed to work. Perhaps she could climb up there with him?

The motion of sitting up sets her hammock rocking in a way that reminds her immediately of the waves below. Nausea rises in her throat.

She could certainly climb in and sleep with Caleb but that would rock the hammock even more, and between their two bodies the cloth would constrict her limbs and maybe she couldn't climb out of it easily and- no, not that then. That's not the answer.

Nott leaps from her own cocoon of blanket and paces the floor, hand on her chest to remind her to breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

She slips out of the door. Let Caleb rest. He needs it.

In the narrow, dark passages below the deck she takes stock.

Caleb? Asleep.

Jester? Most likely asleep but wouldn't mind being woken.

Beau and Yasha? Most likely asleep and would mind being woken.

Fjord? Would also mind being woken. Not asleep but with Avantika, getting his rocks off most likely. That leaves…

Caduceus? Most likely asleep?

As she paces past the cabin she knows the Firbolg shares with Fjord, Nott listens hard. She expects to hear slow even breaths, but instead she can hear the a tall body moving around and the rustle of fabric. A sniffle, a set of ticklish coughs and a muffled exhalation that might have been a sneeze.

Not asleep then.

She enters without knocking.

There is a hurricane lamp it and in it's flicker she can see the firbolg sitting on the floor on a pile of blankets. Of course he is far too tall to take a hammock. He is shirtless and the glow picks out pools of shadow beneath his collarbones, a smear of deeper grey between every rib in his thin chest.

“Nott!” he looks up, surprised. “Is everything ok?”

“Yes, no, I'm-” her breathing hiccups and her vision gets spotty from lack of oxygen. Maybe she stumbles, because she is caught by strong hands and settled to sit beside him on the floor.

“Whoah. Hey there.” His deep voice is gentle but clear. “Why don't you take some deep breaths. Like this, with me.”

He takes her hand in his and presses it to the broad plain of his chest, so that she can feel the slow rise and fall in her own body.

“That's it. Nice and steady.”

It's hard. It's really, really hard when her body says can't you see you're dying. Mastering her breath is like reigning in a galloping horse. But it will work. She knows it will work if she can just get control of it. Ignore her heart, ignore the way her the room seems to tilt, ignore the nausea and the terrible skin- tightening panic.

Trouble is, there's a fine line between deepening her breathing and focusing on it too much. She wants to be aware of it, but if she gives all her attention to the sensations they will become too much to bear. In Nott's mind she grasps for ways to make the situation normal, to find something, anything to make small talk about.

Caduceus helpfully provides it by tucking his head away for a sudden sneeze.

“Gesundheit!” she offers. The routine response momentarily overrides her panic. It happens again and he offers a sheepish sniffle as he turns back to her.

“Pardon. Got a lot of water in my nose today.” He sniffles. “You want me to count your breaths for you? Some people find that helps.”

Nott considers and shakes her head. “Can we- talk to me- about something else? Anything?”

“Sure I can.”

He agrees easily, without questioning her further. At that moment, she could kiss him. It must be working with so many people who are grieving- he is really, really good at this, and launches into easy, light conversation that doesn't require a meaningful response. He just chats away as he picks up the towel he was using to try and buff at his fur.

She can see how that the longer patches of are spiked, like a plush velvet cloak that should definitely not have been washed in salt water. The shortest parts around his face and arms are dry but the rest of his fur still holds the water.

“I know it's tropical out there but I can't get warm till it's dry.” He tells her, sniffling again.

“You should definitely dry off or you'll get sick.” She comments absently.

“You don't get a cold from being wet and cold,” Caduceus tells Nott.

“Says you.” She fires back, desperately glad to put her attention on any subject other than her recent near drowning and the way still can't seem to get a proper breath. Her heart hammers uncomfortably in her throat but it seems further away when she has something to focus on.

“Yeah. says me. I'm the h- the heal-er-”

Nott hears his usually deep voice go all tickly and shuddery as he winds up for another sneeze. He looks so over it afterwards that it makes her heart flip but it's a soft caring flip not a drowning, panicking flip and it actually makes her chest feel warmer. She grabs the towel from beside him and stands, so that his pink hair is level with her chest.

“Come on, let me dry you off. Don't you know any spells for that?”

“I don't. And I don't fancy asking Caleb to try a fireball, so we'll have to do it the old fashioned way.” He shakes his head under the towel.

Nott can feel the firbolg shivering under her ministrations. In response she begins to buff the towel down his shoulders and upper arms, then follows by rubbing with the palms of her hands to try and get the circulation back. The sensation of silk-velvet fur beneath her palms is so delightful that she is no longer sure whether she is doing it for his comfort or hers.

“That's really nice.” He comments, closing his eyes and tipping his head forward with a huffing sigh.

“You're freezing. You should put a shirt on. And a sweater. And socks. Do you even own socks?” She fusses.

Caduceus laughs. “You'd make a good mom.”

“I'm-”

He notices how her shoulders rise back up to her ears and diverts, “Okay, okay, clearly that's a conversation for another day!”

“Yeah. Thanks. Sorry.” Nott manages.

She can deepen her breathing by herself now. After the initial gasp she gets when she thinks about her family, memories of caring for her son do actually make her calmer. There was that same coolness in a crisis that she is feeling now. Not that this is a crisis, but the vulnerability she feels in Caduceus is quieting her own worries to a dull roar and she likes it that way. At least the fur on his torso is mostly dry now. It is standing up fluffier than usual and he seems to be shivering less. She did that. That's something.

Caduceus runs his own hands over his arms, assessing, and clearly her efforts will suffice because he puts a dry shirt on leans back against the side of the ship. He isn't entirely relaxed however, Nott can see his nostrils twitching while a little furrow deepens between his brows.

“Caduceus?” She asks.

His answer is to double forwards with a wrenching sneeze and then another, barely smothered against the crook of his arm. Nott winces. That sounded... wet. She casts around the little room to find a handkerchief. It might technically be Fjord's but she doesn't suppose he'll mind, especially when the alternative is a very sniffly room-mate.

“Here.” She presses it into his hand. He casts her grateful look, sidelong over the press of his wrist to his nose.

Standing up and searching the room felt good. Doing things for someone else feels good. As Caduceus blows sheepishly, inspiration strikes.

“I'm going to make you some tea!” She declares.

Her companion frowns slightly. “I can make it-” he begins. Stops. Sees the slightly frantic good will in her eyes and just nods slowly. “Sure. That'd be nice. Thanks Nott.”

He still uses his magic to heat the kettle but he lets Nott set out his beloved cups, marvelling that they had not broken on the voyage. He shows her to some pre-made blends in pouches and lets her do the rest, leaning back against the wall and letting his heavy head droop.

Nott is fastidiously careful as she handles Caduceus' most precious possessions. She can't quite believe he is actually letting her manage the process herself. It is kind of a gift, she realises.

She watches him critically as he takes the cup from here. Did his hands shake just a little? Her keen eyes spot a tiny wince with each swallow.

“Does your throat hurt?”

“Yeah, a little. The tea will help, I think.”

“Let me just-” Before he can protest, she reaches to feel his forehead for a fever.

Even with him sitting she has to stretch to reach. His brow is broader than the length of her hand. She thinks his dove-grey makes her green skin look more emerald than muddy, for once.

There's no heat there, that she can tell. She switches her palm for the back of her hand and then as an extra measure applies it to the side of his neck. Nothing to feel but soft, slightly damp firbolg. He looks at her curiously.

“No fever.” She tells him. “Yet. So I don't think you have what Beau had. But I'm keeping an eye on you.”

“I’ll bear that it mind.” He agrees mildly, and sips his tea. He knows full well he hasn't got whatever magical malaria had briefly sunk it's teeth into their human companion- he had a word with the biting insects and politely asked them to back off.

Nott is satisfied with her work and comes to sit beside him with her own cup of tea, and she seems to finally have settled.

“Nott?” He asks. “Feeling calmer now?”

She draws a breath and makes a mental check of her heart, her lungs. “Yes. Yes, thank you. I’m fine now. I was just having… having a time.”

There is a long silence as they both sip. She nestles in closer beside him, filling the crook beneath his shoulder so that his arm is almost around her. He is so tall and soft that she feels particularly small and gnarly by comparison but it’s nice, too, being under the protection of someone so big. She wonders how it feels for him, being mothered by someone so small. Speaking of…

“Caduceus?” She asks at last. “Were you maybe faking a little bit to get me to fuss over you? To calm me down, I mean?”

He laughs, then turns to look down at her with his lovely almond-shaped eyes and his brows in a solemn arch.

“Well. Lots of people find helping someone else calms them down a lot, so there's that.” He pauses, scrubs at his face with the little sniff-swallow that is becoming more frequent. “I wish I was faking it for you. My nose feels really stuffed now.”

She makes a sympathetic face and is about to move beside him when there is a knock at the door.

It isn't loud, but the suddenness makes her jump as though she was slapped.

Nott feels ice cubes drop down into her gut, a sharp ache at the top of her chest and it's hard to get a good breath and it's starting again oh shit

She looks down, finds her claws pressing too hard into Caduceus' arms, sees his strong hands gently peeling them off.

“It's okay. It's just Caleb, see? I think the noise made you jump.” He doesn't seem mad.

He's right, it is Caleb coming into the room with his cat in his arms, his ginger hair mussed and lank from the near-drowning, and a worried look that eases somewhat when he sees Nott.

“Ah, there you are.” He says. “Nott, are you okay?”

“She’ll be okay.” Caduceus tells him evenly. “That's good.” This last is directed to her with a warm hand rubbing her back.

Nott comes to herself enough to watch a couple of different expressions drift over her wizard's face. She wonders whether he might even be jealous that it is Caduceus easing her through this, the way she might be jealous if Caleb were to confide in someone else before herself. Talking her down from the panic is usually Caleb's job.

But Caleb doesn't seen to mind exactly.

“It seems I startled you.” Caleb says. “I am very sorry my friend.”

“It's fine,” She reassures him. “I- it's nothing.”

What she loves about Caleb is that he doesn't force an explanation. He knows that sometimes people's minds don't work quite right and then their bodies follow. He just sinks down to sit beside them on Caduceus' makeshift bed and wraps his arms around Frumpkin, who is purring aggressively. Caleb doesn't look to be in good condition either. He moves as though his joints ache and his expression is deeply unsettled.

The firbolg between them is shivering again. Nott can feel his teeth chattering and apparently Caleb can too because he raises an eyebrow. Caduceus shrugs, pulls one of the blankets from the pile and adds his over his knees. He also sniffles audibly.

“He's getting sick.” Nott tells on him.

“There's no need to be concerned.” Caduceus begins.

“With respect,” Caleb tells him. “I agree with Nott. You don't look so good.”

“With respect,” Caduceus echoes, “neither do you.”

The wizard laughs. “Can we just agree that we all nearly drowned and we all look like shit and today was a really shitty day?”

“It was an incredibly shitty day.” Nott agrees.

She feels calmer now. It's nice, sandwiched into this tiny space with Caleb and Caduceus both together.

“It was a, uh, really quite a day.” Caduceus agrees. “But we all made it our alive and unharmed.”

It's a pity the firbolg has to sneeze immediately after that statement. Caleb doesn't seem to mind.

Nott winces at the sound. So does Caleb, and she notices him squeeze Caduceus' hand.

“Definitely coming down with something.” Caleb remarks.

Nott tries to give him a told-you-so look but Caduceus looks so worn down that she can’t muster much fire in it. They sit together for a long time, just the three of them, collectively wincing when the ship crests a particularly huge wave. Eventually Caduceus sighs heavily and looks at them both.

“If you don’t mind, I should probably try and get some sleep.”

Caleb nods agreement and rises, reaching for Nott’s hand. “Do you think you could try to sleep, Nott? You can come in with me if you want?”

“Sure, I suppose so.” She agrees. She does feel better now but more importantly if she stays up, Caleb will stay up with her, and he needs his sleep or he’ll end up as sick as Caduceus.

Before leaving she turns back to the firbolg and gives him a firm hug, trying to show her gratitude through the cling of her limbs. Caleb is less demonstrative but his voice is warm as he says, “Rest well.”

So Caleb leads Nott back up to her cabin, her bony fingers nesting securely in his broader, bandaged-hands. She lets herself be taken. Let Caduceus sleep.

………

Morning comes, bright and hot and wave-tossed. Nott wakes in Caleb’s hammock, curled over her boy’s legs like a stringy green cat. She takes a moment to assess the situation; they are out on the open sea in a ship filled with untrustworthy pirates, the opportunity to drown is still very present, but she feels a little better today. Her fear is back at it’s usual level; lurking around the pit of her stomach rather than gripping her throat. Thank whatever gods are out here.

Then she remembers. How is Caduceus?

He is usually an early riser. She’d expect to find him in the galley knocking up a meal or perhaps standing on the deck and looking out for land with a longing nearly as strong as her own. He must still be in bed. Nott seeks him out.

Below decks the movement of the ship seems worse somehow. She stumbles whenever the floor pitches under her and makes a conscious effort not to think of fathoms of saltwater underneath her feet.

Fjord has already vacated their shared quarters, if he even came back at all, and left a pile of blankets on the floor, rucked into a mountain range by the bony angles of a still sleeping Caduceus. Laying down, he is all limbs and knees and shoulder blades. For once she feels grateful for her goblin body, in that it curls in on itself easily. There is just too much firbolg and he is too skinny to make a ball for warmth. He looks like he would if he could.

She shakes him gently, then harder. “‘Duceus? You in there?”

No answer, though his eyes open. Nott can see a bleary slither of pink which blinks out for an unsteady breath and a sneeze that just wrenches through him. Poor guy.

“I was going to ask how you’re feeling-?”

His answer is another sneeze, well-smothered into a handful of blankets, and a thick sniffle showing he can barely breathe through his nose. “I…” He tilts his head bashfully. “Yeah… that’s about the shape of it.”

He raises up on one elbow and shakes his head as though testing his focus and finding it wanting. “Wow. Yeah. Not too good.”

“Oh no.” Nott comes to sit beside him and notes the flood of warmth released from under the bedclothes. She agrees. Not good at all.

“Bit of a fever there, ‘Ducey,” she sighs.

He blinks at her muzzily. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“C’mere.” She crawls over and leans to lay her cheek against his forehead. There is a noticeable warmth, nothing alarming, just enough to make the big guy miserable for a day or two.

“Mm, that’s nice.”

“Huh? Oh-” She adds her cold little hands to the sides of his face, first the backs and then the palms. “I can do that.”

When he leans in to the touch, she scoots close enough to give him a hug. She wishes her arms were a little longer but he seems to welcome it all the same.

At that moment, the ship gives an especially noticeable roll. They shudder in unison and look queasily at each other. “I hate this. I can’t wait to be back on dry land.” Nott voices their shared thoughts.

“You and me both.” Caduceus nods. His eyes are weighing closed and he looks weak and shivery. He sniffles and it turns into a persistent, painful cough.

“You should lie down. See if you can go back to sleep”

He lies down but keeps his eyes open, looking up at her. To Nott he suddenly looks really, tired and really, really sad.

“Are you feeling worse? Should I get Jester?”

He shakes his head, swallows hard. She can feel him shiver convulsively despite the warmth of the day.

“No, no, it’s not that. Don’t tell Jester, she’ll worry and she’ll tell Fjord and he’ll worry. He needs to focus on the ship, he doesn’t have time for this-” a gesture to himself.

Caduceus continues in a husky whisper, “I don’t even mind getting sick, not really. Every creature has periods of weakness and then the Wildmother lifts them through it. But in the Grove, surrounded by my family, with evidence of her power everywhere, it wasn’t so bad. Out here it just…”

“Really sucks.” Nott finishes his thought.

“Yeah. Yeah. It really sucks.” He agrees

His big eyes gleam with wetness at the corners and it hurts her heart.

“Can I do anything for you?” Nott frets. “I could make some more tea?”

“Thanks.” He says through chattering teeth. “But I think I’ll just try and sleep it off.”

“Okay.” She twists her hands in the hem of her dress for want of something to help him. Maybe she should leave him to his misery.

The ship is heaves from side to side again. They watch a loose copper coin slide across the floor when the angle changes. Nott grimaces. Her heart kicks in her chest as a unspoken voice says drowning, you’re drowning and you can’t breathe-

“Nott?” Caduceus’ deep voice cuts through the panic. “Would you… stay for a bit?”

She must have given him some goblin-faced look because he retracts it immediately; “You don’t have to.”

“No, no. I’ll stay. I’d love to stay with you. I don’t want to go up there.” Her own voice is high and scratchy and fast and relieved. She returns to his bedside as though drawn by a magnet to his feverish form.

Where he lies on his side there is a perfect, Nott-sized hollow made by his bent legs where she can lean her back against him and have a hand free to smooth along his flank. He reaches an arm over her lap to give her a squeeze then tucks it back under his head, trying to find a way to rest his neck. The simmering, febrile heat of him is not unpleasant for her, though it makes him kick off his blankets. She can hear his breath getting shallower as his fever crests.

She rises from the embrace only once, to dampen a rag with water from the canteen and lay it carefully on his brow. His eyes crack open and he manages a quiet, “thanks…” without truly surfacing from sleep. The soft, grateful tone nearly breaks her heart.

Nott settles back at the head of his blanket nest, where she can reach to lift his sweaty hair from his neck. She sifts through it, allowing the breeze to reach his skin. His silken, goat-like ears are pressed back against his head and the effect is rather pitiful, even without the frown pulling down his mouth as he sleeps.

“I hate seeing you like this.” She says to his drowsing form. “We need you better,’Duceus. Who's going to make us tea and remind us to eat and be the butt of jokes they don’t really understand?”

Caduceus must be more awake than she realised, because he turns his head to her. His eyes have a glassy sheen that make them look more like costume jewellery than rare sapphires. It’s not right at all. But he does manage a smile.

“S’alright.” He slurs sleepily. “We can’t stay on the sea forever. And I’ll be okay. I’ve got all of you. And you’ve got me…”

He rolls over. Nott feels some tension she wasn’t aware of leaving her body. Maybe she could sleep too, just for a little.

At different times during the morning, both Caleb and Fjord crack open the door to the cabin. Greeted by the sight of two unlikely bedfellows, they carefully push it closed again and turn away. Lots of things are going wrong for the Mighty Nein, but they are doing right by each other. That’s a comfort.

t has been hours since they left the water.