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wwilloww · 4 years

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you’ve got a friend in me | knj

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Smut

Rating: Explicit

WC: 3k

Summary: Your best friend and roommate proposes an interesting idea to decrease both of your stress levels.

Warnings: Super awkward conversation. Cockwarming. Cockwarming that turns into sex. A sprinkling of dirty talk. Cumshot. Cum eating. Cuddling.

A/N: Thank you to @kinktae for the title and to @ot7always for thirsting with me the other night and inspiring this story into being. Also this piece was written with two glasses of wine and is largely unedited. So proceed at your own risk of grammatical errors.

|| masterlist ||

©wwilloww Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

YOU’VE GOT A FRIEND IN ME

You and your roommate had come to a very strange arrangement.

It had developed out of the strangest of circumstances. Two broken hearts. Finals approaching. Namjoon had lost his anxiety medication. You had been working so hard on your latest piece of research that you had ended up neglecting your entire social life.

“I think you should just put it in,” you stand, hands on your hips in the kitchen.

Namjoon is shirking in the doorframe.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“You were the one who suggested it.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen. “I didn’t mean it!” he defends.

“You can’t just suggest putting your penis in my vagina and think I’ll take it as a joke! You know I take these matters very seriously!”

“Please don’t call it that,” he grimaces. “And yeah, you’re right, you do. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“But you did.”

Fifteen minutes later you were sprawled on your back in Namjoon’s bed with the man himself straddling your waist.

“You could at least take your shirt off,” you suggest. He tugs it off in one go and you make a note to ask him later how he did it so gracefully. “The whole point is literally skin on skin contact.”

He starts to align himself with you before you place a hand on his chest, stopping him.

“Lube, darling.”

“Why?”

“Do you think vaginas are just walking lube machines? It takes work to get all oiled up and ready to go au naturel and I don’t see you doing any of that kind of mechanical labor.”

Namjoon shrugs off of you, grunting as he leans over to the bedside drawer, grabbing an opaque bottle. He squeezes some of the liquid onto his hand and then, eyes darting up to you, very quickly strokes himself to spread the lube thickly and evenly.

Averting his eyes from you, he lines himself up and pushes in. Joon is big and because you haven’t had any preparation you wince just a little when he finally bottoms out.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, wiggling your hips to adjust. “Just, you’re really big. Give me a minute.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, doing your best to relax around him. It takes a minute, but you succeed, and finally, a gentle warmth begins to blossom out from your abdomen. When you open your eyes again Namjoon is holding himself as far away from you as possible, his arms trembling with the effort.

“This is supposed to be very good for our relationship, too,” you say, matter-of-factly, as if your best friend hasn’t just shoved his monster dick in your cunt as an act of platonic anxiety management. You take your hand and run it up his arm, beckoning him closer to you.

He feels so snug against you, his weight resting on top of you, suppressing any thought of strangeness or distraction or what you’re supposed to be doing. As you settle into the delightful comfort that is Namjoon, a yawn ripples through your body.

“Am I boring you?” Namjoon gapes. “My dick is in your--your hole, and you’re yawning?”

“Joonie!” you scold. “Unless you want me to be fucking you--like really, genuinely fucking you--I’m going to relax! And you should be as well!”

Needless to say, the first time didn’t go very well.

Two weeks later you are both done with your final projects for the semester and had journeyed out to your favorite pub, O'Reilly’s, for what was probably one too many beers and four too many tequila shots.

“I don’t think we did it right,” Namjoon blurts out as you traipse down the moonlit sidewalk, taking turns swinging around the streetlights.

“Whatcha mean?” you ask, twirling around a pole.

Namjoon laughs and steadies you as you wobble off balance, dizzy from spinning around so many times.

“The, ah, peen, vajayjay cuddle sitch.”

“Cockwarming. It’s called cockwarming, you dumbass.”

“I just mean to say I think we did it all wrong. I should be spooning you rather than on top of you. Like, for the extra cuddles.”

You search his face before speaking slowly. “Is this your way of trying to get me in bed with you?”

“Wha--no! I just genuinely think we did it wrong the first time and owe it to ourselves to try it again. And--” he grins at you. “It would make me feel reaaaaally good.” Your face flushes at his words, but you don’t say anything. “Please, just let me put it in for fifteen minutes.” He does his best impression of puppy dog eyes. “You yourself! You yourself told me that it was good for my health. Hm? Whatcha say to that?”

You laugh. “I don’t know, Joonie.”

He becomes serious. “If you really don’t want to, I won’t push you. Just say the word.”

You bite your lip, considering, even though you already know what you want. You just need to decide what’s right. “Okay,” you say sheepishly, surprised by how shy you feel in the face of your best friend.

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

You peek over your phone at Namjoon as he strips down to his birthday suit as you lay popped up on his pillows.

“Aren’t you going to take your clothes off?” he says, standing fully nude at the foot of the bed. Your eyes trail down his planed chest, trying not to linger too long on the supple definition of his pecs, or the way his skin seems to glow beneath the dim light--and definitely not trying to dawdle on the way his cock is already standing at attention, a thick vein tracking up the underside. You gulp. There’s definitely something to looking at it, that makes you want him in you now.

For cuddling purposes, of course.

“Ah, yeah,” you say, hurriedly undressing and tossing your clothes off to the side of his bed.

“Lube?”

“Um, I think I’ll be okay.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. You flop on your side, presenting your ass to him and he plops down on the bed, shuffling over until he’s pressed against you. You can feel his fingertips fluttering above the skin of your hip.

“It’s okay,” you say softly. “You can touch me.”

His hand comes down on your waist, pressing lightly into you. It’s the simplest of touches and yet it sends goosebumps prickling all the way up your spine.

“And you’re sure you’re okay with this?” Namjoon asks, always the one to be overly clear, even in bed.

“More than okay.” You push your ass back just enough to signal your green light.

You imagine that behind you he’s got his lip caught between his teeth in the way he does when he’s thinking too hard, that he’s looking down at you, hand wrapped around his own cock as he presses up against your pussy.

The sensation of his head spreading through your lips has you biting your tongue, doing your best not to react.

“Relax,” he murmurs in your ear, the hand on your waist coming to brush up and down your side. “Ready?

“Mhmm.”

And with that he’s pushing into you, this particular position leaving you tighter than you were last time. He slides in slowly and you relish in the feeling of his cock head gripping against the ridges of your walls. Finally, he’s fully inside you.

“Ouch,” you grumble, his hip bone pressing uncomfortably into you.

He shifts, his hands on your hips, trying to get you comfortable. But instead of easing the sharp pain, the feeling of his cock shifting within you sends a surprising wave of pleasure through you and you moan. You freeze, clapping a hand over your mouth as if the action could wind back time and erase the lewd utterance that had just slipped through your lips.

“Did you--did you just moan?” Namjoon says astoundedly against your back. You say nothing. “Did you like that?”

“No?” you squeak out, your voice breaking underneath the lie.

Namjoon laughs, a big and belly-full laugh, one that spreads through his whole body. He’s shaking against you, causing his cock to rub delightfully within you, circling rhythmically against your walls. A small squeak of frustration and pleasure forces its way out of your throat.

“Oh my god,” Namjoon says, still cackling. “You like it! You like my cock!”

Even in your compromised position, you manage to cross your arms and pout.

“You keep moving, you dumbo, how do you expect me to react?!”

Why were you so damn sensitive to him today?

“I didn’t expect you to fucking moan like I was making love to you or something!”

As his laughter rolls through him, you can’t help but feel the pleasure build within your cunt, a warmth growing and spreading through your abdomen. It was not only the fact that his cock was pressed deliciously within you, filling you out in a way you had never been filled before, but it was the sensation of his joy, rippling through him, and pressed right up against your back. As much as you wanted to push it away, your years of friendship made it impossible to deny how good it felt to have him here, inside you and so joyously laughing.

“I mean if you keep moving like that you might as well just fuck me!” you say in one final show of frustration.

The arm Namjoon has wrapped around your waist tenses and falls still. You squeeze your eyes shut. Fuck.

And then. And then his cock fucking twitches. You gasp, your cunt clenching involuntarily, wrapping tightly around his length. A shiver shoots up your spine as you instinctively push back on him, taking him even deeper into you. Now, your ass is pressed flush against his pelvis.

Namjoon‘s hand tightens around your waist, the other one slipping beneath your body to wrap around your ribcage and pull your torso flush against his. The two of you are clinging to each other, pressed together as tightly as humanly possible. You bite your lip; your cunt continues to throb around Namjoon, desperate to pull him even deeper, desperate to find some kind of--really, any kind of-- satisfaction.

Wrapped up in his arms, you can almost grasp onto that sense of security and comfort the two of you had set out to find together. It’s there, singing on the edge of your consciousness. But any semblance of peace is split by a desire for more, for him to move against you, to allow your bodies to map each other out in pleasure, for him to fuck you.

As if he’s read your mind, his hips begin to slide backward ever so slowly, as if he means to leave the warmth of your cunt. With the speed of light, you reach your hand behind you, bringing it to his hip. Gripping it--hard--you push him back into you.

“Please,” you whisper.

Namjoon stutters beneath your touch. Your voice is filled with need, a note threading through the sweetness of the sound, urging him forward. Even as your begging turns him to putty, his cock hardens at the thought of you wanting him. Of you needing him. So he grips your hip and twines his other hand up to press between your breasts and drives into you.

The force with which he’s just rammed into you shudders through your entire body. It brushes against something so deep in you, you’re not sure if it hurts or if it’s the best thing you’ve ever felt. The whine that comes out of you splits through the stale air of the bedroom and Namjoon curses at the sound.

“God, you’re so tight,” Namjoon hisses. He nuzzles his head against your neck. When you push back against him, rotating your hips in a circle, his teeth find the skin of your shoulder. He bites down into the skin.

Namjoon is big. As he begins to push in and out of you, his head drags against the slick ridges of your walls, almost as if he barely fits. Your breath comes in pants and gasps as each new sensation rips through you, driving you closer to your own release.

“Joonie, please, harder,” you gasp. He punctuates your question with a particularly strong thrust. “More.”

Namjoon slips the arm he’s got beneath you down to your waist. Now both of his hands are on your hips and he draws his cock out of you slowly until only the head is resting at your entrance. You whine, trying to move your hips in search of any kind of friction, but his tight grip on your hips holds you in place.

“Please!” you gasp, squirming. He chuckles into your ear and the sound goes right through you.

“When you stop squirming, I’ll fuck you.”

You fall limp against his hold, desperate for him. He waits for what seems like forever as you feel the tension in your belly begin to recede.

Your breath is rammed out of you as he snaps his pelvis into your ass so hard you know there’ll be a bruise there tomorrow. He fucks into you, his hips driving with more power. But it’s the grip he has on your hips that makes all the difference. He moves you like a doll to his own will. He maneuvers you at just the right angle that the both of you are gasping in pleasure, his pace unrelenting.

You’ve never come from just vaginal penetration alone, but if he keeps doing this, you think you just might, the force of his thrusts rocketing through your entire body. Still, you reach down, slipping your fingers between your dripping folds, finding your clit. You build up a slow pace, circling around the hardened bud as he continues to ravage your pussy.

The combination of your hand and his cock has you tipping over the edge in less than a minute, the dual stimulation unleashing streams of pleasure you’d never known before. You throw your head back, your mouth stretched in a silent “oh.”

Namjoon lifts his head to press his cheek against yours, the sweat of your skin sticking the two of you together. He can hear the way your breath comes out, ragged and in tatters. And still, he never falters.

At this point he is chasing his own pleasure. His pace slows slightly as he circles his hips against your ass, relishing in the way your cunt spasms around him, flooding him with warmth and the delicious drip of your cum.

As you regain your senses, the feeling of his cock drawing through your sensitive folds is overwhelming.

“Too much,” you gasp, the sensation sending sparks through your body.

“Can you take it for just a bit longer?” he gasps.

You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath. “Yes,” you breathe, finding pleasure in the overwhelm and wanting to see him come undone for you. His thrusts have become fast and sloppy, losing some of the power and replacing it with speed. You can hear him whining against you, the sound so need-filled and wanton that you can’t help but clench around his length again.

You reach back, your hand brushing up against his side so softly and delicately. It’s this that has him squeezing his eyes shut and attempting to hold back the stampede of his orgasm.

“It’s okay, you can let go,” you say. “I wanna see you cum for me.”

His hips stutter to a full stop. He pulls out of you and you whine at the loss of him as he comes to kneel over you, one thigh on either side of your hips.

You watch as his head tips back, his lip caught between his teeth. Somehow the crease between his brow is the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. His hand works over his cock with quick, practiced strokes. You want to memorize the way his wrist twitches, the way his fingers quickly circle his head, or the flex of his forearm when he tightens his grip as he nears the base of his cock.

“I-I’m cumming,” he groans. You look back up to his eyes, now open and looking down on you, unfocused as he takes in your bare body spread before him. He’d never thought he’d have you like this, but now that he does, he’s not sure how he’ll ever go back.

“Cum on me,” you command. “I want it, Joonie.”

With a groan, Namjoon grips his cock tighter and sends spurt after spurt onto the softness of your stomach, some of it landing directly in your belly button.

He collapses onto the bed next to you, sprawled out and panting. You gaze over at him lovingly, stretching out your hand to brush the sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes. You stay like that for a minute, him panting, you just watching him, before you come to your senses.

“I wouldn’t call that relaxing, but it definitely made me feel better,” you joke.

Namjoon pushes you gently, a grin spreading across his face.

“I should probably go, uh, wash up,” you finally say, sitting up on your elbows.

“Stay?” Namjoon flops on his side, fluttering his eyelashes in a poor attempt at begging. “Please?”

“If I’m being honest, I really don’t want to fall asleep with your cum in my belly button,” you laugh.

Namjoon leans over the bed to grab something before rolling back to you--and over you-- somewhat crushing you in the process. With his weight resting on your legs he looks up at you, his gaze intense as he dips his head down to your belly button, lapping up the cum that’s come to collect in the valley of your stomach.

Heat floods your cunt as you watch the white release rest on his pink tongue before he closes his mouth and swallows. You gulp.

When he’s done, he takes the t-shirt he’d grabbed and gently wipes you down, his movements gentle and

“You’ll stay?”

“I’ll stay. Just tonight.”

“Just tonight.”

Namjoon grins at you, his dimples showing, before he pulls you against his torso in a position now all too familiar to you.

|| masterlist ||

#ksmutclub #btsgoldnet #btswriterscollective #bangtanarmynet #hyunglinenetwork #namjoon smut #rm smut #knj smut #smut #fanfic #bts fic #rm #namjoon #knj #bts #bts ff #bts smut #friends to lovers #spooning

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swan-of-sunrise · 3 years

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Specs and the Flyboy (Chapter Nineteen-Part Three)

Summary: (Y/N), Jack and their friends finally face off against Leviathan and the Secret Empire.

Pairing: Jack Thompson X Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Ya girl wrote this while dealing with sleep deprivation, cramps and the after effects of the vaccine, so I hope it’s good ‘cause at this point I can’t even tell lol Thank you all so much for reading! I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Nineteen (Part III) Leviathan’s Weapons Facility, Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic (Previous Chapter)

While the two of them were ushered down the staircase that led into the crate-filled warehouse by Michael and Dottie, (Y/N)’s mind raced as she struggled to think of a way out of their current conundrum. I’ve been in plenty of tough scrapes before but even I’ll admit that this one’s the toughest one yet, she thought to herself, her eyes rapidly scanning the large room; there were large, frost-covered windows towards the ceiling, several boarded-up skylights and the two metal doors she spotted were both guarded by Leviathan soldiers. By the time they reached the base of the stairs, (Y/N) had counted a total of twenty armed enemy operatives – seventeen Leviathan guards, Attwell, Underwood and Michael Carter – and from the brief glimpse she’d gotten of their friends hidden behind a stack of crates, it looked as though both Pinkerton and Sawyer were badly injured and the others were trying to bandage their blood-soaked wounds. So, we’re out-gunned and out-numbered, she concluded with a sinking feeling as she bit her lip in worry.

“So, Chief Thompson did survive his daring escape!” Attwell grinned, walking out into the empty space amidst the crates and standing before the two of them. “Truth be told, I was hoping that we’d meet again; I detest leaving loose ends, and killing the SSR’s golden boy once and for all would’ve been a genuine pleasure.”

Beside (Y/N), Jack’s shoulders tensed but he tilted his head to the side in mock contemplation. “What, you couldn’t do it without your Leviathan goons backing you up? What a real tough guy.”

Attwell’s fist quickly connected with Jack’s stomach and when he doubled over in pain, the man struck him across the face and sent him sprawling to the ground. “Stop it!” (Y/N) started towards her partner but the sudden feeling of a pistol barrel against the back of her neck stopped her cold; tearing her eyes away from Jack, she met Attwell’s gaze and struggled to keep her voice steady as she spoke, “He’s not the one who’s screwing up your deal with Leviathan, I am.”

“Of course, of course, the infamous codebreaker.” Attwell stepped closer but she held her ground, raising her chin in defiance and refusing to look away despite how uncomfortable his stare made her feel. After a tension-filled moment, his face broke out into a stomach-churning smirk. “It’s a shame that such promising talent’s being squandered by the SSR, by those who dismiss and condescend you at every turn. I was very much like you before joining Hydra; I was overshadowed at Cambridge by my perfect older brother and his two brilliant flatmates; while William, Michael and Adam flourished in their respective fields of study, I floundered and was subsequently expelled but as luck would have it, I was approached by Hydra and offered a chance to unlock my true potential; and here I stand before you, Agent (Y/L/N), to offer you that very-same chance. With the new Leviathan, your immeasurable skills would not only be recognized but they’d also be celebrated. You and Michael could work side-by-side in our efforts to break through as the world’s leading superpower and once we achieve our goal of fully weaponizing Zodiac, Agent (Y/L/N), you’ll have everything you’ve ever truly desired.”

Out of the corner of her eye, (Y/N) noticed Jack’s hand resting on his waist and while Attwell talked, her partner’s index finger had tapped away. It only took her seconds to realize he was sending out a message in Morse Code on the walkie-talkie still clipped onto his belt and once she did, she knew exactly what she needed to do.

“You know, it’s a good thing you’re decent at codebreaking, Specs, ‘cause you’d make a pretty shit spy. You fidget too much.”

If Jack can think up an off-the-cuff plan to get us out of this mess then I can buy us all a little time by being a good spy, she thought with resolve just as Attwell finished up his speech. Taking a page out of her partner’s book, (Y/N) raised an incredulous brow at the man as the corner of her mouth curled into a humorless smile. “There was a time when I would’ve given just about anything for people to recognize me and my skills, to appreciate just how hard I’ve worked to get where I am today. But then I grew up and realized that the only person whose appreciation I needed was my own. Mr. Attwell, I don’t need to be celebrated or appreciated by anyone, but especially not by a pathetic imitation of the Red Skull.”

The man’s expression instantly grew cold at the comparison. “Then it would seem that you’re of no use to us.” His gaze shifted to look at whoever was holding her at gunpoint and he nodded. “Shoot her, Michael.”

“Stop!” All of them looked over just as Peggy jumped out from behind their makeshift barricade with her rifle pointed directly at Attwell. “I’ll give you the key.”

“Peggy, no!” The barrel of the pistol pressed harder into (Y/N)’s neck and she winced in pain. However, her horror was quickly replaced with dawning comprehension when Peggy flashed her a pointed look before briefly glancing in Jack’s direction. She knows about whatever Jack’s planning, she silently realized, playing along with her old friend’s ruse by rearranging her features into a look of righteous indignation.

Moving to stand beside Attwell, Dottie raised the hand that wasn’t holding her rifle and gave the younger woman a small wave. “Hiya, Peggy. You know, you really should’ve listened to me back in New York; I told you there were currencies in the world stronger than money. I practically spelled all of this out for you! But the great Peggy Carter couldn’t figure it all out on her own, so she needed the help of…” Dottie turned to (Y/N) with a frown. “What’re those revolting nicknames you call each-? Oh, never mind, I don’t want to know.” Turning back to Peggy, the spy shrugged. “Well, I suppose not everyone’s perfect, are they?”

“No, they’re certainly not.” Attwell agreed, gesturing with his head for Peggy to lower her weapon and holding out his hand once she’d set it on the ground. “No tricks, Agent Carter. The key, and you and your friends are free to go; it appears that at least one of them is in need of medical attention, so I’d be quick about it if I were you.” When Peggy’s eyes flicked over to where Michael was standing behind (Y/N), Attwell chuckled darkly and shook his head. “No, I don’t think dear old Michael’s going anywhere but by all means, Agent, go ahead and ask him if you don’t believe me.”

For the first time since they were ushered into the warehouse, Peggy looked directly at her older brother. Her hardened expression slipped and for the briefest of moments, (Y/N) recognized the vulnerable young woman she’d known all those years ago at Bletchley Park who mourned her beloved brother’s death. While her lower lip trembled, Peggy finally addressed Michael. “Not too long ago, I had a dream about you and you told me that you’d be right alongside me if you could. I didn’t believe it was possible, even when (Y/N) and Jack told me it was, but now we have a second chance at being a family again. Michael, you can finally come home.” She blinked away her tears and gave him the ghost of an encouraging smile. “Please, Michael, come home with me.”

(Y/N) could feel the pressure on her neck ease up but just as she was beginning to think that Peggy had succeeded in getting through to him, Michael coolly replied, “This is my family, Agent, the only family I have in this world.”

Peggy’s face crumpled as Attwell laughed in amusement. “I told you so! Now, the key for your friends.”

God, I hope that whatever Jack’s planning happens sooner rather than later, (Y/N) silently prayed, sucking in a breath while the younger woman approached Attwell. Once Peggy reached into her pocket and withdrew the familiar Arena Club pin, the man looked over at Dottie and gave her a nod; the spy slung the strap of her rifle over her shoulder and made her way over to one of the many wooden crates near them, kicking the lid off of it and lifting a small metal box out of the loose excelsior. The box looked innocent enough but as Dottie walked it over to Attwell, (Y/N)’s blood ran cold and she knew that the moment Peggy handed over that key, Leviathan would possess one of the world’s deadliest weapons and they’ll have lost.

“Get up, Chief Thompson,” Michael barked and while Jack got to his feet, (Y/N) was roughly pushed towards him. “And you, stand over there with him.”

(Y/N) did as he said, standing beside Jack and keeping her eyes on the scene unfolding before them as she murmured, “You okay?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Peachy-keen.” She watched Dottie hand the metal box over to Attwell, her anxiety steadily building within her while he examined the box’s intricate lock. “Are you going to fill me in on the plan or what?”

The corner of Jack’s mouth curled upwards and he quietly replied, “Patience is a virtue, Specs, just be ready for it.”

“Be ready for wha-?”

Just then as Peggy’s hand stretched out to give Attwell the Arena Club pin, the warehouse wall opposite them exploded. Rubble and splintered pieces of crates flew through the air but before (Y/N) could fully react, gunfire broke out all around them. Amidst the chaos, Jack latched onto (Y/N)’s hand and ran, yanking her behind the nearest tower of crates as bullets whizzed past their heads; both of them crouched on the ground and peeked around the wooden crates, and her eyes widened in amazement at what she saw. The explosion that had knocked down part of the warehouse wall hadn’t been an explosion at all but rather one of the Howlies’ trucks and as (Y/N) watched, Daniel and Henry used the truck’s doors as barriers while they exchanged fire with the Leviathan guards. Moments later, she spotted Peggy dart out from one of the aisles to join her boyfriend behind the open truck door.

“Wa-Hoo!”

Dugan’s deafening war cry from across the warehouse was punctuated by a fresh barrage of gunfire, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but revel at the familiarity of it all; her eyes were suddenly drawn to two men sprinting down the aisle towards her and Jack, and it took her a tense moment to recognize them through all the chaos.

“There you guys are!” Howard exclaimed before ducking down beside them, followed closely by an anxious-looking Edwin Jarvis. Reaching into the satchel that was slung over his shoulders, the inventor withdrew two handguns and offered the weapons to them. “You know, you two’ve got a real habit of gettin’ into trouble…”

Jack rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Says the man who was mind-controlled into almost gassing all of New York last year.” Springing up, he fired off several shots before ducking back down. “How’re we looking, Jarvis?”

“Well, Chief Sousa’s dramatic entrance provided enough of a distraction for Mr. Fieldman to escort Mr. Pinkerton and Mr. Sawyer out the front; their wounds aren’t life-threatening, but Mr. Fieldman promised he’d help treat them once they reach the clearing.” The butler set another satchel on the ground in front of them. “And we’ve brought more guns and ammunition, as per your request.”

“You know, Thompson, you said in your message that you needed a big diversion, but that whole entrance was my idea; I actually took it from one of my studio’s newest scripts, where a gangster steals-”

“Of course, Mr. Stark, your genius knows no bounds.” Edwin hurriedly interrupted the inventor’s rambling, glancing over at (Y/N) with his brow furrowed in worry. “And have you broken Mr. Carter out of his brainwashing? Where is he?”

Looking around the edge of the crate, (Y/N)’s heart dropped when noticed that several important people were missing from the gunfight. “Where the hell did they go, Jack?”

Jack craned his neck to see what she was looking at and swore loudly. “Shit, I-wait, they’re on the stairs!” By the time (Y/N) spotted them, Attwell, Dottie and Michael had reached the top of the stairs and had disappeared around the corner. “Jarvis, stay here with Stark and cover us, then go help the others.” Edwin nodded and her partner turned towards her, his blue eyes scanning her face for any signs of trepidation as he asked, “Are you ready, Specs?”

“As I’ll ever be,” (Y/N) pulled an extra ammunition magazine out of the satchel and tucked it into her pocket before giving Jack a determined nod. “Let’s finish this once and for all, Flyboy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Compared to the chaotic warehouse they’d come from, the rest of the facility was eerily silent and it wasn’t at-all difficult to follow the footsteps of the fleeing trio through the deserted hallways.

“You know that this is probably a trap, right?”

“Naturally.”

“Good. Just wanted to make sure that we’re both on the same page.”

Before (Y/N) could get another word in, a figure she soon recognized as Dottie dropped down from above them and began attacking; the spy kicked the guns out of their hands, ramming her knee into (Y/N)’s stomach and knocking the wind out of her before spinning and using her leg to slam Jack into the wall beside them. (Y/N) took advantage of Dottie’s momentary distraction and aimed a side-kick at her thigh, but the spy merely turned her sharp fall into a somersault; she stood and threw a punch that (Y/N) was quick to duck, and then she grabbed the spy’s extended arm with the intent of wrenching it behind her back. Dottie predicted the move, yanking her arm free only to wrap her hand around her throat and roughly shove her back against the wall.

The back of (Y/N)’s head erupted into a sharp pain while Dottie flashed her a condescending smile. “I already told you, you’re too easy! It’s almost pathetic to see you try so hard to be as good as Peggy.”

“Don’t need to be as good as Peggy,” (Y/N) choked out as the fingers around her throat tightened. “Just…just good enough to keep you distracted.”

Dottie frowned in confusion and that’s when Jack slammed the butt of his gun against the back of her head. The spy tumbled to the ground in an unconscious heap and (Y/N) doubled over, her hands firmly clutching her knees as she coughed and gasped for air. “(Y/N), you okay?” She nodded and allowed Jack to take hold of her shoulders, his soothing encouragements helping her finally regain her breath; once he was sure that she was fine, her partner handed over her dropped gun and rested his hand against the small of her back to urge her forward. “C’mon, let’s go…”

They left the motionless spy behind and continued down the hallway, turning the corner and finding themselves at the entrance of a dimly-lit boiler room. Beside (Y/N), Jack shuddered and she recalled the story he’d told her of the mission he and Peggy had conducted to investigate one of Leviathan’s training facilities; she nudged him with her elbow and gave him a brief smile, wishing that she could offer him more comfort but not wanting to distract them both from their mission. Jack nodded as if to say he was fine, but his shoulders remained tense while he silently gestured for her to go left into the room while he went right.

(Y/N) crept behind the various boilers and pipes, careful not to slip on the slick ground as she did. If I end up surviving all this, I think I’m going to sleep for a week straight, she thought to herself, her heart rate steadily increasing with each step she took. While she edged herself around another heavy piece of industrial furnacing, she found herself trying to think of how to break Michael out of his mind-control long enough to save him; Jack insisted that cognitive re-calibration was the only way but after being present for Peggy and Michael’s reunion, she wondered if reminding him of his past or even recent actions would also do the trick. But a sharp skid noise right behind her made her forget her train of thought and turn, dodging the knife just in time.

“You really should’ve taken my offer, Agent (Y/L/N),” Attwell spat out, slashing at her with the knife again and forcing her to stumble back into the center aisle of the boiler room; the blade sliced against her forearm and she stifled her cry of pain, dropping her gun and leaping out of the way as he aimed for her again. “Soon, you and your foolish friends will be dead and Leviathan will have more power than you could possibly imagine!”

“Don’t you ever get tired of hearing your own damn voice?” (Y/N) retorted, her hand shooting out and twisting the red-colored knob beside them; a pipe next to Attwell spewed out pressurized steam and he let out a shriek of pain as the steam enveloped the right side of his face. Not wanting to stick around, she turned and sprinted further into the vast room, a part of her hoping that she’d bought herself enough time to save Michael. Skidding around a corner, she was immediately met with the sight of Jack and Michael engaged in a vicious fight on the floor; her partner was trying to wrestle something out of the other man’s closed fist, but he was so preoccupied with his task that he didn’t see Michael’s other hand brush the handle of a nearby gun. (Y/N) kicked the gun away from him, pinning his shoulder to the ground with her knee and spoke the first thing that came to mind. “Visions, light, cheered, night, dream!”

As she finished reciting the five words he’d used to encode his final message to Peggy, something shifted in Michael’s dark eyes and his clenched fist relaxed, allowing Jack to snatch the Arena Club pin from him. Before any of them could say or do anything more, a fiery ache erupted along her shoulder blade and she cried out in pain as she pitched forward. “(Y/N)!” Jack looped his arms underneath hers and dragged her over to half-lean against a pipe; her vision was partially clouded by the pain, but she could still make out the bloody knife he’d just pulled out of her upper back and tossed onto the ground beside them. “No, no, don’t look at that, just keep your eyes on me!” He pressed his trembling hand tight against the wound and when she nearly whimpered, he held the side of her face with the other and frantically nodded, his blue eyes steadily filling with panic that he struggled to control. “I-I know it hurts, baby, but I have to keep pressure on it; it’s not very deep, but I can’t have you fainting right now so keep your eyes on me, c’mon-”

“How touching,” Both of them looked up to see Attwell and Michael standing before them, the former with a self-satisfied smirk on his half-seared face and the latter staring stonily down at them. “Let’s make a new deal, Chief Thompson: Give me the key, and I won’t let Agent (Y/L/N) slowly bleed out on the floor of this boiler room.”

“Bastard.” Jack spat back, but his hand left (Y/N)’s face long enough to retrieve the Arena Club pin from his pocket and throw it into Attwell’s waiting hand. “You better start lookin’ over your shoulder now, Attwell, ‘cause I won’t rest until I kill you myself.”

Attwell shrugged and ran his fingers over the pin, twisting it sharply to convert it into a key. “Such fiery attitude in the face of doom was precisely why I was looking forward to killing you. But then I realized, forcing a man like you to live with your mistakes is a far worse punishment than death; and to make this victory sweeter, I plan on unlocking Zodiac in front of you both, so you can see just how spectacularly you failed yourselves, your agency and your country.” He turned to Michael with his brow raised in expectation. “Are you ready to make history, old chap?”

Michael nodded. “Of course…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the metal box containing Zodiac; (Y/N) tried getting up, unwilling to sit back and let Leviathan win, but Jack’s strong arms held her in place against him. When she met his gaze, he gave her a barely-discernible head shake and with her jaw clenched tight, she watched Attwell push the key into the lock and turn it clockwise; the lid popped open and the man breathed a sigh of relief, reaching into the slightly-smoking box and holding an electric-blue colored vial with strange etchings carved into the glass.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? So much potential for war and destruction, and it fits within the palm of my hand.” Attwell looked up at Michael and continued, “My brother never appreciated such things, you know. He never truly appreciated you, either; once you were found out to be a deep-cover spy for the SOE, I saw an opportunity to mold you into the person you were always meant to be. Do you remember the first thing I told you after you came out of Hydra’s operating room?”

Michael’s hardened expression faltered, almost as if he was struggling to control his actions, and in an instant, he drew his gun and shot Attwell directly in the chest. There were tears in his eyes as he finally replied, “‘Michael, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.’”

The box and the vial slipped out of the dying man’s hands and as he began to sway dangerously on his feet, (Y/N) lunged forward and caught both in her hands before they could hit the ground. While Attwell’s lifeless body collapsed to the ground in a heap, she and Jack hurriedly placed the deadly Zodiac back into the box and slammed the lid closed; she let out a shaky breath, unable to grasp everything that had just happened. Michael dropped to his knees, tossing his gun to the side and rubbing his head with one hand; still mindful of her now-oozing wound, Jack held her a little closer as they both warily watched the unsteady man turn away from Attwell’s body to look at them. “I-It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Agent (Y/L/N). I’m Michael Carter, SOE.”

A smile slowly stretched across (Y/N)’s face and a sense of relief was beginning to wash over her as a familiar voice called throughout the boiler room. “(Y/N)? Jack?”

“We’re back here, (Y/N) needs some medical attention but we’re okay!” Jack called back, meeting (Y/N)’s gaze and flashing her a lopsided grin. “You’re gonna be fine, Specs, you hear me?” With a relieved chuckle, Jack leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her sweat-covered brow before resting his cheek on the top of her head. “We’re all gonna be fine.”

“Hey!” The first person who rounded the corner was Daniel, whose gun was already at the ready when he pointed it at Michael. “Hey, get the hell away from them!”

Jack held out a placating hand to the chief. “Easy, Danny Boy, he’s good right now; he’s the one who killed Attwell.”

Lowering his gun, Daniel limped over to where they sat against the pipe and knelt down as best he could to examine her knife wound. “Looks like the knife missed everything important, thank goodness. What the hell happened down here?”

Jack detailed everything they’d dealt with after hurrying out of the warehouse as their friends joined them; Edwin began treating her various wounds with Henry’s assistance, Howard carefully stowed the box containing Zodiac and its key into a satchel and Dugan worked on locating a weak point in the wall to blow a quick exit for them. There was a flurry of voices and activity surrounding (Y/N), but all her attention was on Peggy and Michael; they were talking to each other in low tones, Michael looking heartbreakingly unsure and Peggy trying her hardest not to cry, until they both surged forward and hugged one another. For the second time that day, (Y/N) was reminded of Freddie but while she watched the Carter siblings finally reunite, she didn’t feel sadness or envy, but rather pride. She was proud of herself, for having helped stop Leviathan’s plans and for having made-do on her promise to reunite her oldest and dearest friend with her beloved brother. If anyone deserves a second chance at happiness it’s those two, she thought to herself, taking a deep breath and resting her head against Jack’s strong shoulder.

They did it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Only one more chapter left!! Like I said, idk how I feel about this chapter as a whole so I’m sorry if there’s mistakes/it’s bad, but next week’s is gonna be great! Thank you guys so much for reading! If you haven’t checked it out yet, I created a Spotify playlist for this series and it’s linked down below!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21pWY7OiMFj8LaYpxhtVtW

Chapter Twenty

“Specs and the Flyboy” Masterlist

Tagging: @nnon-it-up @fluffymadamina @remmyswritings @ourstarsailor @darkusangelus @josis-teacup @marvel-jackt-loki-buck @yeetyeetchickenmeat @sameoldbaby @theserenityspace @seeing-but-not-observing @supervoldejaygent @momc95 @brooke0297 @kinda-c0nfused @outoftheregular

#jack thompson x reader #agent carter #jack thompson #peggy carter #daniel sousa #howard stark #edwin jarvis #dum dum dugan #pinky pinkerton #happy sam sawyer #the howling commandos #michael carter #dottie underwood #marvel cinematic universe #strategic scientific reserve

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terramous · 3 years

Text

i'm in over my head

an incredibly belated birthday present for my love @silvarafael !! thank u jamie i love you so so so much and i'm so grateful to be your friend!! title from: the palace - father john misty word count: 9.6k beta'd by: @marjansmarwani bthb - seizures warnings: vomiting AO3

“Here’s your uniform. It’s ready to go when you are,” Carlos declared as he wandered back into the bedroom. He had a soft smile on his face as he set the folded uniform down on the corner of the bed.

“Thanks, babe,” TK said as he dragged a hand down his face. It took him a little longer to gather up the energy he needed than usual. It was probably courtesy of the month he’d spent on medical leave while recovering from his concussion. He wasn’t used to surfacing before noon anymore, aside from when Carlos would press a kiss to his forehead before leaving for his morning shifts.

In reality, he was excited to get back to work after so much time spent at home recovering. He had been going stir-crazy since he was well enough to get down Carlos’ stairs by himself and it’d been three weeks since then. As much as he liked spending all of Carlos’ time off curled up together and without a shortage of affection, he was going to lose his mind if he spent any more time cooped up.

Carlos stepped closer to TK and brought a hand up to cup his boyfriend’s jaw as he connected their lips in a soft kiss. “How’re you feeling?”

“Pretty good.”

Being met with worried brown eyes pulling apart every detail of his demeanour was something TK had come to expect in his daily life and those looks had only become more frequent over the past month.

“Are you sure? How’s your head?” Carlos asked, running his hand through TK’s hair until it came to rest on the back of his neck and he began running his thumb over TK’s skin. It had become a comforting gesture they often shared when TK was plagued by the most horrific headaches during his recovery. It never soothed the pain but it made him feel less alone.

He’d gotten used to the constant low-level pain behind his eyes, it was nothing to worry about at this point, so he omitted mentioning that to Carlos. It would only serve to make his boyfriend worry when he really didn’t need to.

TK was fine. He was on the road to fully recovering from his concussion, he was finally going to get his life back.

Even though he was only scheduled for a six-hour shift today. It was incredibly short, pitifully so, but he had to take it easy.

Carlos didn’t even have a shift today, he was just spending lunch with his family at his Tia Lucy’s and would be able to pick TK up the second he was done at the firestation. It wasn’t like he was immediately being thrown into the deep end with a 24-hour shift, Carlos really didn’t need to worry so much.

“You know I love this shirt on you,” TK said as he smoothed down Carlos’ collar and trailed his fingers down the seam along Carlos’ shoulder.

Carlos leant forward to share another kiss with TK. He spoke as they parted, “you love every shirt on me.”

“I also love every shirt off of you,” TK whispered, following the kiss as Carlos drew backwards.

“I know you do, but you have to get dressed.” Carlos stood up from the bed and intercepted TK’s needy grab to draw him back into the bed with a firm poke of TK’s nose. “You have work.”

“I could call in and say that my head hurts, then you could spend the day in bed with me. Your Tia Lucy loves me, she’ll forgive you.”

“No, she’ll forgive you. You’re her favourite,” Carlos clarified with an accusatory point in TK’s direction. “You also say that as if your father wouldn’t order a wellness check and call me every fifteen minutes to make sure you’re not dying.”

“Ugh. He’s the worst.”

“I know sweetheart,” Carlos said, giving TK another chaste kiss before he quickly snuck away. “I’m going to sort out some breakfast so you can get changed.”

“You’re the worst,” TK protested with a pout.

Carlos poked his head back through the door and shot TK a smile. “You love me anyway.”

TK tossed a pillow at Carlos but it collided with the doorframe as Carlos disappeared down the hallway. “That’s debatable!”

He watched as Carlos disappeared through the door and down the stairs before he took a deep breath and glanced at his waiting uniform. It was just clothing, it should feel like a big deal.

And yet it did.

Grabbing the folded shirt on the end of the bed and pulling it into his lap, TK couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling of anxiety in his chest as he ran his thumb over the patch with his name on the front.

This was his job, he loved it, he lived to help, but that didn’t keep him from feeling nervous about getting back in the game after a month. It didn’t help that his last shift ended with being held hostage on the wrong end of a gun and given a concussion.

He could do this. He just needed to be thrown back in the deep end.

Shrugging off one of Carlos’ old hoodies that he liked to sleep in, TK took a careful breath and mentally prepared himself for the shift ahead. He didn’t know why he was so nervous but something about the familiar weight of his uniform draped over his shoulders somehow made it feel more official.

The buttons seemed to be smaller and more stubborn than he remembered. He fumbled with them but just couldn’t seem to get his fingers to work properly. Never before had it been this difficult to dress himself. How many times had he done this exact thing without a second thought?

Tears of frustration welled up in his eyes. He just wanted things to go back to normal, but he couldn’t even put on his own shirt. Fuck.

He clutched at the material of his shirt, bunching the edges up in his trembling, useless hands as he stared down at the offending buttons through tearfilled eyes. He was so focused on the indignity and frustration of it all that he didn’t hear the footsteps outside the door until Carlos’s voice drifted in.

“Hey, food’s ready- what’s wrong?” Carlos asked. TK didn’t look up but Carlos’ hands were holding his in a matter of seconds.

“I can’t do it.”

Carlos squeezed TK’s hands softly in a way that was meant to be reassuring. “What can’t you do, sweetheart?”

“These stupid buttons!” TK huffed, unable to stop the fresh round of hot tears running down his face.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Carlos said, already moving to do up TK’s buttons in a matter of seconds. He smoothed down TK’s uniform, before carefully tilting his boyfriend’s head up to meet his gaze. “You know you don’t have to work today if you’re not ready. No one is going to judge you for taking a little more time off.”

“No offense, but if I’m stuck here for even one more day I am going to start climbing the walls.”

“None taken. Do you want something to eat?”

“Actually, can I just take it with me?”

Carlos’ eyebrows knit together at that as he eyed TK cautiously. He was clearly worried. “Sure. Are you nauseous? Do you want to take another day off?”

TK waved away his concern. “I’m fine. I just don’t want to be late.”

“Okay…” Carlos didn’t look convinced but he gave TK a quick kiss. It was just a second or two but it took all of TK’s strength to not seize Carlos by his collar and pull him down onto the bed.

Carlos knew this, of course, and smiled at TK before pulling away. “Finish getting dressed and we’ll get on our way soon. I’m sure you can manage that, but just call out if you need me.”

“I always need you.”

“You’re such a dork,” Carlos chuckled as he stepped out of their bedroom, blowing TK a kiss as he left.

TK lifted his hand to catch the kiss, gingerly curling his fingers into his palm. He turned back to his uniform and took a few seconds to let go of his anxiety. He could do this. The buttons were just a minor setback.

Truly, the buttons appeared to be the hardest thing. Not that TK was entirely sure why, but getting dressed the rest of the way proved itself to be a lot easier.

He’d even managed to brush his teeth and make his way halfway down the stairs before Carlos called out to him.

“Who’s this handsome paramedic in my house? I don’t remember calling 911.”

TK just rolled his eyes as he hopped down the rest of the staircase. As soon as his feet hit the floor he stood there with his arms open, giving Carlos a pointed look.

He tapped his foot impatiently as Carlos wandered over and wrapped his arms around TK’s waist, picking him up and walking towards the door.

“This is not what I had in mind!” TK grumbled until Carlos set him down. Slung over Carlos’ shoulder was TK’s duffle bag that plonked heavily on the ground at the same time as TK’s socked feet reconnected.

Before TK could say anything, Carlos was kneeling down and grabbing TK’s boots.

“I can put my own shoes on,” TK protested as Carlos manhandled his feet into the boots.

“You can’t even tie your laces properly, you still do the double-loop. It’ll go faster if I do it.”

TK knew it was a ploy to make sure he didn’t have to deal with the fiddly task of tying his laces. But he’d never tell Carlos that he had caught on.

I only took Carlos a few seconds before he was standing up again and pushing the front door open with a lovesick grin on his face. “You ready to go?”

“Definitely,” TK said with a nod.

TK froze as he stepped out of the front door. The sun was definitely brighter this morning than he was expecting, and a little more than his head was prepared for. But he could handle it.

“You good, babe?” Carlos asked. TK opened his eyes to see Carlos worriedly looking over the top of the car door instead of climbing into the driver’s seat. He really was going to worry about TK all day, wasn’t he?

TK nodded, “Yeah, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

Taking a deep breath, TK gave Carlos a smile. “It’ll be fine, Carlos.”

Walking into the firehouse felt like coming home after a long day. He wasn’t aware he could miss his workplace so much, at least until he spent a month basically confined to Carlos’ condo.

No one was around when TK wandered in, which he could probably chalk up to the missing ladder truck. That was until he spotted the one, the only, Nancy Gillian. She had her legs draped over the arm of the couch and her phone glued to her face, the blue light from the screen reflecting on her skin.

“He’s alive!” Nancy cheered as she looked up from her phone, all but throwing it aside as she kicked her legs up and in a few short strides, wrapped TK up in a bone-crushing hug.

This was definitely weird. TK had never even been hugged by Tommy, let alone the paramedic with whom he had not had the smoothest sailings with in terms of their relationship.

“I missed you, jerk.”

It took TK a few seconds before he was returning her embrace. “I missed you too.”

Almost instantly, Nancy let TK go and turned her back to him. “Did you hear that, Tommy? I told you I could get him to be sappy within five minutes!”

Tommy stepped into view and clicked the button on her stopwatch, making it beep. “2.38. That’s got to be a record.”

“I wasn’t aware there was a record. Or that you were both scheming against me on my first day back,” TK said, his gaze shifting between his fellow paramedics.

“C’mon, it was the perfect scheming opportunity. Marjan and Paul helped with the plan,” Nancy explained.

TK rolled his eyes. “Of course they did. I wouldn’t expect anything less from them.”

Nancy looked around before crossing her arms across her chest, looking somewhere between disappointed and bored. “They had hoped that they were gonna be here to witness it though.”

“Speaking of, why aren’t you guys on the call with them?”

“Medical wasn’t needed, so we’ve just been waiting for you to show up. They’ll be back soon, though,” Tommy said with a shrug.

“And Judd will probably never put you down again in your lifetime,” Nancy chipped in.

TK couldn’t help but to chuckle at the mental image of Judd carting him around for the rest of his life. He certainly wouldn’t put it past him.

Judd was, after all, always threatening to wrap TK up in bubble wrap or never let him do anything unsupervised ever again. TK definitely considered it to be an overreaction and a tad over-protective but everyone else seemed to disagree with him every time he brought it up.

He followed Nancy back to the couch where they both sat down and TK prepared for the onslaught of questions about his well being.

Nancy turned her calculating gaze on TK. “How’s your head?”

“Good.”

“Any dizziness?”

“Nope.”

“Sensitivity to light?”

“I told you, Nancy, I’m fine. Just happy to be back at work.”

“She’ll never admit it, but she missed you,” Tommy said.

“I did not,” Nancy hissed, shooting a glare in Tommy’s direction.

“She’s lying. We all missed you.”

TK turned to see Paul standing behind him. Paul smiled and ruffled TK’s hair. “How are you doing?”

“If one more person asks me that I’m going to smack them.”

“Don’t hit me,” Paul said, raising his hands with his palms towards TK in surrender.

“Give me one good reason,” TK said, raising his hand in an empty threat.

Paul eyed him carefully. “You need someone to protect you from Judd when he realises that you’re here.”

“True,” TK said, lowering his hand so that it rested in his lap. Judd’s big brother role that he had adopted was definitely a lot to deal with at times, but TK enjoyed the affection.

“Strand!” Judd’s distinct voice called, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps.

Paul mouthed him a quick ‘good luck’ before TK was wrapped up in a tight embrace.

Pitifully trying to shove away Judd’s arms, TK struggled to wriggle out of his hold. “I need to breathe, Judd.”

As soon as his boots hit the ground, TK rolled his shoulders back and shook out his arms as he bounced on his feet. It was good to be back.

It’d been a good day, mostly minor calls so far, a fainting, a typical rest home visit, and a compound fracture from an unfortunate shortcut down two flights of stairs. But this was exciting, he was back in the heat of it now.

“Look less excited to be at a car accident, Strand,” Nancy scolded as she jabbed her elbow into TK’s ribs.

“It’s not my fault. I’ve been on house arrest for a month, I’ve missed this.”

“And we’ve missed you, but make sure to listen to your body and not push your limits today. You’re supposed to be being eased back into this,” Tommy said carefully as she placed her hands on TK’s shoulders to hold him still.

TK nodded. “Got it. Take it easy, tap out if there’s any issues. I got it.”

Tommy offered him a satisfied smile before she turned to the scene. “Alright, TK, you take the kid that got flung, Nancy and I will check on the driver.”

“On it, Cap,” TK said with a sharp nod, adjusting the strap of his medical bag on his shoulder.

He could do this, he could see the kid sprawled on the road with a few firefighters by his side. This was straightforward, just TK and no hassle of waiting for the team to free his patient.

It was simple, something he couldn’t mess up on his first day back. He knew that this was Tommy’s way of including him without potentially jeopardizing anything.

“What have we got here?” TK asked as he knelt down on the opposite side of the patient, meeting Paul’s gaze briefly.

“Kid got thrown, don’t think he lost consciousness but he doesn’t seem to be in a chatty mood,” Paul offered.

“That’s alright, I got it from here. Why don’t you go do firefighter-y things?”

“Ooh, he’s a paramedic and now he’s too good for us firefighters,” Paul mocked as he gave TK’s shoulder a firm shove.

“Blah, blah, blah. Screw you, Strickland.”

“Let me know when you’re free!” Paul called with his hands cupped around his mouth as he jogged backwards towards the rest of the team.

TK couldn’t help the smile on his face as he shook his head. It was good to be back. He’d certainly missed everyone more than he cared to admit. He turned his attention back to his patient. As far as TK could tell, Paul had gotten as far as a cervical collar and not much else.

“Hey, I’m TK. I’m a paramedic. Can you tell me your name?”

“Andy,” the kid groaned, his face scrunched up in what TK assumed was pain. There was road rash visible on Andy’s face, blood from his nose and a laceration on his forehead sticking his long black hair to his skin.

“Hi Andy. I’m going to help you as best I can. Can you tell me what happened?”

“I’m-” Andy paused, seeming to need a moment to think about it. “I’m not sure.”

TK tensed for a moment before shaking out any visual reaction to the information he was gathering. He had to be professional, and being professional meant keeping his patient calm at all costs. “That’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“Do you know if you lost consciousness at any point?”

“I don’t think so?”

TK pulled the edge of his bottom lip between his teeth, gnawing on it to ease his nerves. This wasn’t good. “Do you know where you are?”

“The middle of the road.” Well, he wasn’t wrong.

“Do you know what day it is?”

“Tuesday?”

TK shook his head. “It’s Saturday.”

“Nice.” Andy cracked a small smile. “I love the weekend.”

TK fished his penlight out of his pocket and turned it on in one fluid motion. It was muscle memory, but it felt good to be back. He ran it over Andy’s eyes, his mind whirling as he processed what he was seeing.

Tensing up a little as he realised the severity of the seemingly insignificant head wound. “Pupils are irregular and response is delayed.”

“That’s bad isn’t it?” Andy asked, his voice climbing in pitch with what was undoubtedly fear. It was always fear.

“Don’t worry about that right now.” TK clicked off the light and held his penlight parallel with Andy’s face. “Can you follow my light?”

He watched Andy’s eyes trailing the sideways movement of the light carefully.

Clicking his tongue, TK slipped the penlight back into his pocket. “I can’t make a diagnosis here but you might have a concussion.”

“How bad is that?”

“Oh, it’s not gonna be pleasant. I just spent a month on medical leave for a concussion of my own. Wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”

“Ouch?”

TK nodded, suppressing a grimace as he tried to ignore the stabbing pain making itself known behind his right eye. Now really wasn’t the best time for a headache. “Ouch.”

“I’m going to slide my hands under you to check for any bleeding that I can’t see. Is that okay with you?”

Andy nodded slightly, his movement restricted by the collar. Clearly his probable concussion protested the attempted motion as Andy quickly let out a groan, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Yeah, that won’t be a good idea for a while,” TK hummed as he began sliding his gloved hands under Andy, watching carefully for the familiar smear of red that would let him figure out why Andy was getting so pale.

But there was no blood.

In any other instance, TK would be relieved to find no evidence of bleeding, but with the growing lack of colour in Andy’s skin and the way that TK confirmed with a single touch that his skin was also colder than it should be, there was no relief from the lack of a visible bleed. It was almost definitely internal and there wasn’t a lot that TK could do about that.

Sucking his teeth, TK mentally ran over his course of action. It didn’t involve a lot of steps so he could handle it on his own. There was no need to bring in the cavalry.

“Okay, I’m going to give you an IV,” TK said as he dug around in his med kit. “It won’t solve anything but it’ll make you feel a whole of a lot better.”

“That sounds good.”

TK had the bag of saline, the needle—he even triple-checked the gauge—, the catheter and a few alcohol pads laid out before him. This was an IV, he’d done it a million times, he could do it in his sleep.

That was until he tried to open the alcohol pad and couldn’t seem to get his fingers to cooperate. It was the button fiasco all over again. TK was starting to get really sick of this.

Brushing it off and deciding to blame the alcohol pad as faulty, TK quickly tried another. And another. And another.

The alcohol pads weren’t faulty, he was.

Taking a breath as he closed his eyes, TK willed his hands to stop shaking. This wasn’t the end of the world, he could handle it.

“Hey, Gillian, can you give me a hand?” TK called over his shoulder and tried to ignore how unsure his voice sounded.

“Sure!” She called back. It was only a few seconds before Nancy was kneeling on the other side of Andy, her own med kit with her. “What do you need?”

With a careful inhale, TK asked the question he knew was only going to raise a million more. “Can you run a line for me?”

Nancy looked like she wanted to ask, but she stayed silent and set up the IV with quick ease.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Nancy said. TK could tell that she was trying to seem casual, but her voice was firm. This was going to find it’s way back to Tommy and she was going to bench him. So much for a good first say back. “I’m gonna go see if there’s an available gurney.”

“That'd be great, thanks Nancy,” TK said with an uneasy smile. He was grateful but he knew that once this interaction was over, he was going to be benched. Carlos would be called to come and pick him up from the station and he’d be back on medical leave for the foreseeable future.

Nancy left and TK turned back to Andy who was eyeing him curiously, his brown eyes seeming to trail after TK’s every movement.

“Are you alright?” TK asked, scanning Andy for any sign of an injury that he may have missed.

“Did you know that you’re really pretty?”

TK froze for a second, he probably looked like he was buffering. Concussed teenagers are one thing. Apparently concussed teens flirting with him were the same thing. TK had to consciously remind himself to reply to Andy instead of just kneeling there looking like a stunned mullet. “It has been said.”

“No, I mean like, so pretty.”

TK rocked back on his heels slightly, lifting his head to look in the direction of the rest of the crew. Silently begging Nancy to return. “Andy, I’m flattered, but you’re like twelve.”

“I’m fifteen,” Andy said.

“I rest my case. You’re a minor and I already have a boyfriend.”

“It’s not my lucky day, I guess.”

TK could help a smile as he shook his head, ignoring the low-level pounding in his making itself known. “No. No, it is not.”

As soon as Andy was unloaded from the ambulance and Nancy and Tommy followed his gurney inside the hospital, TK climbed into the passenger’s seat of the ambulance to wait for them.

His body was so heavy, he really couldn’t fathom staying on his feet any longer. He wasn’t used to all this work. Maybe diving back into the deep end wasn’t the best plan.

If he was still a firefighter, he’d have been put on light duty. He’d be working reception, checking inventory or cleaning all day but he’d be doing something. Light duty wasn’t much of a function when he was a paramedic.

This was the closest he could get, he didn’t get to drive or work on anything that wasn’t minor. And still, he was feeling the toll.

Curling in on himself, TK massaged his temples. Of course his head had to hurt.

TK could feel the pressure in his head climbing. The little sharp pains morphed into a constant throbbing as it got harder and harder to bear having his eyes open. It was only going to get worse from here.

But he just needed to hold it together for the rest of the day. Or until they could get back to the station.

If they got back he could sleep off the worst of it, or look pitiful enough for Tommy to send him home. He didn’t want to go home but he wanted to stop feeling like he couldn’t do his job.

He could hear the distinct sound of doors opening and closing as Tommy and Nancy returned but he didn’t look at them.

“Good work out there, team. It’s been too empty just as the two of us, it’s good to have you back, TK,” Tommy said as TK felt the ambulance start up with the familiar hum of the engine.

“It’s good to be back.”

Nancy had pulled out of the hospital and back onto the road by the time Tommy spoke again.

“Do you want to talk about the IV, TK?”

“Not really,” TK said. He knew what Tommy was going to say, he was bound to be benched.

“Just say the word and you can go home. No one is mad, or disappointed, or anything. If you need more time off, that’s okay.”

“No, no. I’m good.”

“The offer is always there if you feel the need to take it.”

TK let out a short laugh. It sounded kind of like he was being strangled. “I won’t, but okay.”

They lapsed into silence, the atmosphere suddenly having become so much more awkward.

After a few minutes and most of their journey back to the station the pressure in TK’s head decided to spike and suddenly everything was making a fresh wave of pain hit him.

Groaning softy, TK pinched the bridge of his nose and scrunched his eyes shut to block out the light. He really needed the throbbing in his head to ease up or at least not get worse before they got back to the station and he could down a few advil to take the edge off.

Over his recovery period he had gotten used to the pattern of his migraines, the way the pain would linger for an hour or two and steadily get worse until it skyrocketed and Carlos had to hold him while he sobbed and tried to ride out the pain. By that point there wasn’t much either of them could do except to make their way up to the bedroom and hope that TK could sleep it off.

He couldn’t begin to even imagine how many hours Carlos had spent sitting on the bed next to him in the dark, rubbing his hand soothingly across TK’s back, silently begging for the pain to stop. TK knew how much it killed Carlos to see him hurting, as well as how he’d kept quiet about it but he could never really hide these things from his boyfriend. Carlos’ eyes were so full of emotion, they were a dead giveaway every time.

It’d been almost a week and a half since he’d had a migraine, his neurologist even said it was a good indicator that he was on the tail end of his recovery. However, in usual TK Strand style, good things never lasted.

As he opened his eyes, TK had to suppress his urge to curse. Everything was like he was looking through an out of focus camera, the haziness only slight in the centre of his vision but his peripheral vision was barely decipherable.

The taillights of the car in front of them seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat and the midday sun was making the simple act of keeping his eyes open borderline-unbearable as pain laced its way through his skull.

This was bad.

He closed his eyes and leant his head back until it collided softly with the seat. At least he was expecting the dizziness and nausea as they washed over him.

“You alright, Strand?” Nancy asked, undoubtedly having given him a quick once-over when he got quiet.

TK nodded, biting his tongue as he felt like he was going to regret having lunch. He tried to laugh it off, but the sound came out very weak and not at all as casual as he had hoped. “Yeah, just tired. I’m not used to being awake for so long without taking a nap.”

“Feel free to lie down for a bit when we get back to the station. I don’t want you overdoing it, you hear me?” Tommy chimed from her seat in the back.

“I’ll be fine, Cap. Just need to readjust to working life.”

TK could hear Tommy shift in her seat, probably so she was sure that he was listening to her. “You sustained a traumatic brain injury after getting kidnapped on the job, I think you’re entitled to as many naps on the clock as you can take.”

“I’ll be fine. I just want you to treat me like you would any other day. You guys got kidnapped too, I don’t need any special treatment.”

“You’re not special, we just don’t want to waste half an hour giving you a ride up to the ER because you overdid it and didn’t tell anyone,” Nancy said.

“I wouldn’t do that,” TK objected, not even bothering to open his eyes and give Nancy a displeased look.

He didn’t even have the energy to roll his eyes as his coworkers laughed.

Tommy was the first to speak, “sure, kid. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The laughter dissolved after a short while, Nancy and Tommy making amicable conversation as TK tried to hold himself together around every turn and slightly too-abrupt brake.

Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. It seemed like the fire station was further away than it had ever been before, he wasn’t going to make it until then.

Taking a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth, he couldn’t quell the nausea.

“Nancy, pull over,” he groaned.

“What?”

“Pull over.”

“I’m not going to pull over, TK. We’re almost at the station.”

“Nancy Gillian, I swear to god, pull this ambulance over.”

Nancy gave in, probably noticing the serious edge to TK’s voice or probably the fact that he had undoubtedly gone very pale in the passenger’s seat. “Okay, okay. Pulling over now.”

TK couldn’t fly out the door any faster once the ambulance came to a halt. He knew that Nancy and Tommy had a million questions that he wasn’t answering, but he was too preoccupied sinking to his knees and throwing up in the gutter.

This wasn’t going to go down in history as one of TK Strand’s finest moments, that’s for sure.

He didn’t notice anything aside from the throbbing in his head and the sting of bile in his throat until there was a hand rubbing his back. It was Nancy, he knew that without her even saying anything. Her cherry scented shampoo, although usually pleasant, made his stomach twist.

“‘M sorry,” TK whined as he took a moment to catch his breath before the nausea came back with a vengeance and he was once again emptying his guts.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t feel good.”

“No, I bet you don’t.” That was Tommy. She had a very soothing energy that would usually make him feel better but he was too preoccupied retching and only now noticing how much he was shaking.

“I’m-” TK drew in a trembling breath. “I’m fine.”

“Sure you are.”

“It’s just,” TK waved a hand in the vague direction of his head, “concussion.”

Tommy was running her hand through his hair now, like his mother always used to do when he was sick as a kid, it was a very comforting gesture. He was going to die with the secret that her comfort made him want to cry, ignoring the fact that he definitely already wanted to cry. “Yeah, I think you’re gonna need some more time off.”

“No.”

He could almost hear Nancy rolling her eyes. “Yeah, Bud, I don’t think you have a choice in the matter.”

“If this stays between us I don’t have to go back on medical leave.”

Nancy scoffed. “This can stay between us if you can stand up and walk back to the ambulance on your own.”

“That’s easy. I can do that.”

“Go for gold, kid,” Tommy said as she retracted her steadying hold on him. TK didn’t quite realise how little of a part he was playing in keeping himself upright until that moment.

Steeling himself with a deep breath and wiping his sweaty palms on his pants, TK rocked back onto his heels, ready to push himself onto his feet.

And careened backwards almost instantly, a head rush rolling over him.

TK would never be able to express his gratitude for Tommy and Nancy catching him in that moment. He leant heavily on Tommy as he closed his eyes willing everything to stop spinning. The earth wasn’t supposed to tilt like this.

Nancy gave TK a gentle pat on his back. “Yeah, you’re going back on medical leave.”

She was just met with a groan, TK couldn’t find the energy to argue, and he was almost certain that if he opened his mouth he’d be sick again.

“Do you want to ride in the gurney back to the station?” Tommy asked softly, brushing his sweaty hair away from where it clung to his forehead.

“Please, no,” he whimpered, resting his head fully on Tommy’s shoulder. He was never going to live this down.

“Hey, champ. Just sit tight and we’ll give you a hand.”

TK waved her off. “No- No, I’m good.”

Ignoring how much he fumbled, TK eventually managed to wrestle his way out of his seatbelt and opened the door. He ended up bracing himself almost entirely on the doorframe as he struggled to his feet and tried to step down.

His foot missed its purchase and he was falling for a moment or two, his brain didn’t even realise it was happening until Tommy and Nancy appeared seemingly out of nowhere to catch him.

“Easy there,” Tommy said as TK relinquished his part in holding himself up. His legs felt like the bones had been stripped from them at this point, he had no hope of bearing his own weight.

TK couldn’t help the whine he let out at the sound of Judd’s voice. “Whoa, what happened?”

“Can you guys help get him to the couch?” Tommy asked, dodging the question as she slung one of TK’s arms over her shoulders.

Judd’s arm looped around TK’s torso should have made him feel better and more supporter but he could only let out a pitiful groan as every slight shift made the room spin.

“Don’t worry, we gotcha.”

“I don’t,” TK grumbled as he let himself be dragged around until he was settled down onto something soft. He knew that it was a long enough walk from the ambulance bay to the common area or the bunk room for TK to know they had definitely gained the attention of most of the firehouse at this point.

“You’re looking very green, kid.”

As much as TK appreciated Judd’s concern and assistance getting to wherever he was currently situated - he couldn’t find the will to open his eyes to the bright lights of the station - but the signature deep Southern drawl was grating against his eardrums.

“He looked greener when he abandoned his guts in the middle of the street,” Nancy chimed. It was a very snarky statement but her words had no bite. TK imagined that this was probably how she had spoken to him on the night of the kidnapping when he was freshly concussed. He honestly couldn’t recall anything more than a few flashes from that night.

“He’s shakin’ like a leaf.”

“Yeah.” That was Paul’s voice now, coming from somewhere behind or to the side of TK. He wasn’t entirely sure anymore. “Shouldn’t he go to the hospital? This doesn’t look good at all.”

TK could almost see Tommy shrug. “If he doesn’t improve with some rest, or gets worse, there’s a ride to the ER with his name on it.”

“No,” TK groaned. “No hospitals.”

“Bud, I love ya, but this looks pretty bad.”

The voices were beginning to get harder to tell apart, everyone’s words blending together into one big indecipherable mess by the time they reached TK’s ears but he knew that was Judd.

TK stiffened as his stomach lurched. He opened his mouth to speak but a small trash can was swiftly shoved into his arms just in time for him to throw up yet again. He whimpered between heaves of what was just bile at this point, his insides cramping painfully.

“Carlos is on his way.”

Was everyone here? TK assumed his dad would be there considering he was puking his guts out on his first day back, but there were already too many other people seeing him in his current state. The idea of Carlos coming, however, made TK feel a lot better.

He’d probably feel bad about interrupting Carlos’ time with his family later but right now, all TK cared about was having Carlos next to him again.

He didn’t even realise he was crying until someone was wiping his tears away. It was that gesture that prompted TK to open his eyes. To near-complete darkness.

It only took him a few seconds to piece together that he was in the bunk room surrounded by his colleagues while he held onto a rubbish bin with a white-knuckle grip. As if on cue, he folded over the edge of the bin again and retched while someone continued rubbing his back.

The hand was definitely bigger than Tommy or Nancy’s, so maybe it was Judd? Or Paul? TK didn’t particularly care at this point. He was just glad that he wasn’t alone.

Every time he managed to lift his head for more than a minute at a time, Tommy was right there with a glass of water, trying to coerce him into drinking some of it.

“You need to drink something,” Tommy said firmly as she once again put the glass in his face.

Even the idea of drinking water made TK’s insides twist, he didn’t particularly feel like throwing up cold water anytime soon. “No thanks.”

“I wasn’t asking. You’re going to drink this water or you’re going to get an IV.”

“An IV sounds great.”

“Drink the water, TK.”

He didn’t have the energy to fight her so he slowly sipped the water while Tommy held the edge of the glass to his lips.

The feeling of cold water on his irritated throat was better than he’d ever admit, but he only got a few seconds of relief before he pushed the glass away and the water came back up.

“Yeah, this has ‘hospital’ written all over it,” Tommy said.

“No hospital,” TK groaned, trying to glare at Tommy through the tears gathered in his eyes. “Need Carlos.”

“I’m here.” There were hurried footsteps and a familiar presence slotting in next to TK as arms wrapped around him. TK could cry. He buried his face in Carlos’ shoulder while Carlos ran his hand between TK’s shoulder blades. “I’m here, baby.”

TK couldn’t help the fresh wave of tears that soaked into Carlos’ shirt. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. How are you feeling?”

“Bad. Awful. I left the thesaurus at home.”

“You’re doing great.”

“Sorry for ruining lunch,” TK mumbled into Carlos’ shoulder, his voice muffled by the fabric.

Carlos brought a hand up to play with TK’s hair at that. “Shh, no. You didn’t ruin anything. We’re all just very worried about you and want you to feel better.”

“I wanna feel better.”

“I know, baby.”

“Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for. Everyone understands,” Carlos said as he pressed a kiss to the top of TK’s head. “Are you going to let Tommy take you to the hospital now?”

TK just whined and clung tighter to Carlos. He didn’t want to let go.

“I’m not gonna leave. I’m going to be right next to you the entire time,” Carlos promised, pressing a few more soft kisses to TK’s hair.

“Is that my cue to get the gurney?”

TK wasn’t entirely sure who spoke but he just sighed and nodded into Carlos’ shirt.

“Yeah, that’d be great.” TK could only imagine the smile Carlos was giving, he could hear it in his boyfriend’s voice.

Being with Carlos brought him comfort and he was so exhausted from the toll this episode had taken on his body that he was content to just rest his entire weight against Carlos.

Carlos accepted his presence entirely. He ran his palm along TK’s spine in a comforting gesture. TK could almost fall asleep there if he didn’t feel so awful.

He had no idea how much time had elapsed by the time something changed. Everyone was pretty silent for the most part, aside from the occasional clicking of the door opening and closing as people came and went.

And then he felt the shift. Like a tectonic plate moving underfoot, the exhaustion morphed into a sensation he was all too familiar with.

Panic.

Something bad was about to happen.

TK rested his palm on his chest, right over where he could feel his heart racing as it got harder to draw in a deep breath. That wasn’t a usual symptom when his head was acting up. “Ooh, I feel weird.”

Carlos stiffened under him at that. “What do you mean?”

He looked over at where Marjan and Paul were pretending not to be looking over at him every few seconds, only to realise he couldn’t really see them all that clearly. “I kinda feel like I’m about to have a panic attack, but my vision is going weird. That doesn’t usually happen.

“Are you okay? Do I need to get Captain Vega?”

“I think-” TK’s sentence was cut off as he paused to take a breath, willing away the dizziness that had made a spectacular comeback. “I need to lie down.”

“Alright, okay,” Carlo said, helping to ease TK down until he was lying on his side and Carlos could run a hand through his hair. “Just hang tight and we’ll see what Captain Vega says, okay?” Carlos asked in a soft voice, running his hand through TK’s hair.

TK nodded, “Okay.”

As quickly as things had gotten weird, they got weirder. There was another wave of dizziness and a weird taste in his mouth as his body seemed to have a mind of its own. There were a couple involuntary jerks of his hands and legs, as much as TK tried to hold his limbs still it just seemed to get worse.

“Tommy!” Carlos called, his voice cracking.

“Go get Tommy,” someone said before there was another set of hands touching him and the sound of panicked footsteps moving further away. When they spoke again TK could identify the voice as being his father’s. “TK? TK, can you hear me?”

TK wanted to nod, to confirm that he could hear them, that he didn’t know what was happening.

He was scared.

TK could feel himself slipping as the jerking got worse. He wanted to tell Carlos not to worry but he wasn’t in control anymore. His jaw clenched firm as his head jolted back a few times. He was shaking now, like he’d been electrocuted, and Carlos was looking more and more scared with each passing second.

“Shit.” Tommy’s voice reached his ears ripe with alarm as TK felt even more hands on him. “He’s seizing!”

And TK slipped.

The darkness was only brief, in what seemed like just a few moments he was blinking up at Carlos again. As if he’d fallen asleep for a minute or two.

“Hey there,” Carlos said with a soft smile. Looking up at his boyfriend, TK could clearly see the tears gathered in Carlos’ wide, worried eyes.

“Hi,” TK breathed as he pieced together all he could remember. There was a gap between lying down and talking to Carlos and waking up in the same place that he wasn’t entirely sure of. It was a void. All he knew was that his head definitely hurt more now, but everyone aside from Tommy and Carlos had cleared the room. “What happened?”

“You had a seizure.” That was definitely Tommy speaking, even though TK couldn’t see her. She was somewhere out of his line of sight and he was too preoccupied with studying Carlos’ worried expression to look away. It definitely made a lot more sense now why Carlos downright terrified.

It also made sense why no one else was around. Tommy would have known that he didn’t want anyone gawking at him when he came to. “Thanks.”

“For?” Tommy asked.

“Sending everyone out.”

“Don’t worry about it. I figured you didn’t need anyone other than me or your boy right now.” Tommy gave TK’s thigh a pat before leaving his side. “I’m going to go see if Nancy’s got the gurney sorted, okay?”

TK just hummed as Tommy walked away. He didn’t particularly care much about what was going on, he just reached out for Carlos until he could curl his finger around his boyfriend’s wrist.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a soft voice, not failing to notice the way Carlos jumped a little.

“What do you mean?” Carlos’ eyebrows knit together in confusion as he visibly tried to decode those three words, as if he was going to come up with a reason he could understand for why TK would ask him that. “I’m fine. I should be asking you that.”

“You’re scared, I can tell.”

“Of course I’m scared. You don’t have to worry about me, though.”

“I’m still going to worry, I care about you.”

“Care about yourself for once. You just had a seizure!” Carlos’ voice cracked on the last word as he covered his mouth with his free hand. He was crying. TK couldn’t see it but he knew. He could feel the way Carlos trembled and hear how his breaths were rough and staggered as he tried to swallow his sobs.

“I know. But I’m gonna go to the hospital and they’re gonna fix me up, you don’t have to worry. I don’t even feel that bad anymore, I’m just really tired and my head hurts. I just wanna make sure you’re okay, ‘Los.”

He heard Carlos take another deep, steadying breath before a familiar hand found its way into his hair. “TK-” he started, voice moderately steadier than before, but he was interrupted by the arrival of TK’s team and the gurney.

“Up you go, Strand,” Tommy instructed lightly as Carlos shifted gears, pulling the hand out of his hair and instead reaching around to help him up.

“I don’t need help,” TK objected as he slowly eased himself to his feet, bracing his entire weight on Carlos as his boyfriend helped to lift him.

“Yeah, you do. It’s okay,” Tommy said as she grabbed his legs and moved them so that they were on the gurney with him. “No one is mad at you.”

“I never said that.”

Carlos pressed a careful kiss to TK’s temple before brushing a hand through his boyfriend’s sweaty hair as he placed the other on TK’s side. “You were thinking it.”

“I’m getting déjà vu,” TK groaned. This situation of his worried boyfriend hovering over him while his head was unbearably painful was beginning to be a recurring event in his life.

“I think they call that nausea and dehydration,” Carlos offered, a small smile curling up the corner of his lips.

TK closed his eyes and sighed. “I hate you.”

“Why? I’m lovely.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” TK mumbled as he tried to suppress a groan at the jostling motion the gurney made as he was loaded into the ambulance. Carlos was quick to follow him though, eagerly scooping up TK’s hand in his own.

"I'm dying," TK grumbled, his face buried in his pillow. He’d been trying to fall asleep for the past however many hours he’d been cooped up in the ER. But everything was too bright, too loud, and his head hurt so badly. Every squeak of sneakers or beep from his IV pump seemed to serve only to exacerbate his pain. He was even cooped up under a spare blanket and Carlos’ jacket as his sweat was just making him colder in the frigid hospital air.

TK could tell by Carlos’ silence that he was trying to suppress a laugh before he said anything. "You're not dying, babe."

"If I'm not dying, why does my head hurt so bad?"

"Because you're an idiot who doesn’t tell anyone when he’s struggling."

TK just groaned in response. "I don't think this level of pain should be legal."

"Unfortunately, I don't think I can arrest your brain."

"Then what's the point of having a cop boyfriend?”

“I’m not sure. Personally, I choose to date endearing idiots who are determined to give me grey hair.”

TK just huffed and shot his boyfriend a glare. “You suck.”

“I know.”

Their banter dissolved into silence. TK knew Carlos was trying to stay as quiet as possible, that any sound would aggravate TK’s pain, and he was grateful for that.

"My head hurts," TK whimpered, reaching out clumsily until his fingers connected with Carlos' arm. His grip wasn't firm, but he pulled Carlos closer anyways, as if his boyfriend wasn't mere inches away at most times and always eager to be closer.

Carlos ran his fingers through TK's hair, carefully so as to not jostle his head. "I know sweetheart, I'm sorry."

In a flash, the nausea came rolling back with a vengeance and TK only had a few seconds to prop himself up on his elbows.

Carlos was quick to shove an emesis bag under TK’s face as he shuddered under the force of his body dry heaving until he had to taste his own bile for what seemed like the millionth time that day.

When TK finally rolled back onto the bed, panting from the toll the day had taken on his body, Carlos gagged. “That’s disgusting. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Give me a break.” TK grumbled, rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm. He was exhausted and he just wanted everything to be over. “I’m in the hospital.”

“This chain of events was entirely your fault, you don’t get pity.”

“I deserve pity.”

“Maybe you do.”

“I want to take a shower, I’m all sweaty and gross.”

“You can when we get home.” Carlos said, taking TK’s hand in his own, careful not to mess with the IV as he pressed a few short kisses to TK’s knuckles. “Unfortunately that’s going to be a little while away. They’re probably going to want to do a bunch of scans.”

TK groaned, rolling towards Carlos until his face was buried in the thin hospital pillow. “I hate scans.”

“I know, baby.” Carlos tapped his fingers on the railing of the bed a few times before he spoke again. “You know they’re necessary though.”

“I don’t care. They suck.”

“Just try and get some sleep, okay? I’ll wake you up when the doctor gets here.”

TK went to nod but thought better of it. Instead he sighed and sank further into the pillow, “I’m sorry.”

Though TK couldn’t see him he could practically hear the frown in Carlos’s voice. “Sorry?” he asked, “For what?”

“For worrying you,” TK started, “for not being able to make it through a day at work. For not being able to do anything. For being useless.”

“Hey,” Carlos responded firmly, “You are not useless. You are hurt and still recovering. None of this is your fault TK, none of it.”

“Still,” TK pressed on, “you shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“And niether should you, but here we are. We’re in this together babe, no matter what.”

TK lifted his head off of the pillow to look at Carlos who was giving him a soft smile. He looked so hopeful TK could hardly stand it, but he appreciated it all the same. “I think I love you,” he said wearily before plopping his head back into the pillow, the sounds of Carlos’s fond chuckle chasing him.

“Well I know I love you,” Carlos assured him, rubbing a comforting hand down his back. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

The resident tapped the end of his pen on his clipboard before looking back up at TK. "This could just be post-concussion syndrome but I'm going to page your neurologist given your medical history to see how she thinks your treatment should go."

Carlos looked confused as he turned to the doctor. "What would his medical history have to do with it?"

TK sighed. He’d had this conversation with his neurologist a month ago. The risk of this concussion exacerbating any symptoms from previous injuries that could have had an affect on his brain. "Overdoses. Getting shot. They're worried about permanent brain damage."

“That sounds serious. Why haven’t you brought that up before?”

TK shrugged. “I thought we’d cross that bridge if and when we got to it. No use worrying you about something that no one can control.”

“I’m going to order a CT scan and see whether or not your neurologist wants more tests when she gets here,” the doctor explained before heading back into the main body of the ER.

One CT scan became an MRI, and many more tests and scans. After many hours it was determined that no, TK’s condition hadn’t worsened. It just hadn’t gotten better.

His neurologist had determined that it was likely post-concussion syndrome and discharged him with a few referrals and a prescription for a bunch of new medication that would hopefully ease his symptoms.

Carlos offered him a soft and reassuring smile as he pulled a hoodie over TK’s head.

TK didn’t even bother to put his arms in the sleeves as he gave Carlos a pout. “I want to go home.”

TK was used to Carlos’ sixth sense at this point. He should have expected that Carlos would hear him sniffle from all the way downstairs and race up to check on him.

Before TK could even get his thoughts in order, his face was sandwiched between Carlos’ hands as thumbs wiped the tears from his cheeks. He loved Carlos’ eyes, he loved getting lost in their depth, but he didn’t love the way they only ever seemed to look at him with worry nowadays.

“What’s wrong? What hurts?” Carlos asked in a soft voice. He was worried. He always was.

TK closed his eyes and let a few more tears slip free as he drew in a shaky breath. “My head.”

“Get back in bed, sweetheart.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what, TK?”

“This,” TK said, gesturing towards his head. “It’s been five months and it’s not getting any better. I’m sick of being in pain all the time, I’m sick of not being able to work, I’m sick of being a burden on you.”

“Hey,” Carlos breathed, tilting TK’s head up so they were looking at each other. “You’re not a burden. You’re never a burden.”

“I keep making you cancel plans to take care of me. We don’t do anything anymore, you just look at me like I’m going to fall apart if there’s a loud noise or if i go from a dark room into a bright one. Just because my life is ruined, it doesn’t mean that yours has to be too.”

“I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel like this, but I promise you that I’m never going to want to be anywhere as much as I always want to be by your side. I love you, TK. I don’t care how long this recovery process takes, I’m not going to love you any less.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Never,” Carlos said firmly. “I’m always going to be here to love you. I’m gonna go downstairs and bring up your meds and something to eat, then we can spend the day in bed and try the date tomorrow if you’re up to it.”

TK nodded. “Tomorrow.”

Carlos pressed a kiss to TK’s temple before disappearing back downstairs.

When he returned, Carlos handed TK a handful of assorted pills and a smoothie before sliding under the covers and wrapping his arm around TK’s waist.

“You know I love you, right?”

“I know.”

“You mean the world to me and I’ll never let you forget that.”

#bad things happen bingo #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #writing*#userjillian #userkimmy #tuserpaige #tuserjamie #userjillybean #uservickytoria #userac

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just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi · 3 years

Text

Disobey - Tool

Hallo! Thank you to those of you who told me to get off my ass and write something. And thanks anon! for the inspo!

Anonymous said: (For the command thing) Tool ► disobey the Mechanic once

[Masterlist]

CW: punishment, ECT/electroshock therapy, restraints, seizure, blink and you’ll miss it implied triggering.

(Also just a disclaimer but y’all are smart Cookies. ECT is an actual medical procedure and not a punishment. The Mechanic is just an asshole and doing it incorrectly on purpose.)

The Mechanic smiled at his colleague, swirling the liquor in his glass.

“Tool,” he called casually, deeply enjoying showing off his assistant in front of another. “Bring the bottle.”

Tool stood next to the bar, at the far end of the room. They didn’t move. The Mechanic shifted in his armchair, craning his next to glance their way. They didn’t see it - their eyes were drilled into the thick carpet.

Why. Why. Why - why am I like this? Why do I do what he says?

No.

“No.”

The Mechanic snapped his head in their direction, eyes furious. Unbelievably, his assistant lifted their eyes to meet his.

One would think the man’s teeth would have snapped under the pressure of his clenched jaws. That look was back in his assistant’s eyes. The one from the first day after they had been brought to the manor, the look that had stayed up until their first night in the Machine.

He hated it more than anything.

With a bristle, the Mechanic turned to his guest. “Apologies, I don’t know what on earth got into him tonight.” The other man smirked, taking a long drink.

“No worries. In fact, I would love seeing the Machine in action firsthand.”

Tool’s already pale face seemed to lose all color, swaying slightly. That. That was why he obeyed. Why he kept silent and submissive and relinquished all control to this man. That was the hell from his nightmares, ones that still came every night.

How could he have forgotten that he lived next to his own personal hell.

Before he could open his mouth, before his mind could even try to pull the reigns of his panic to form a response, the Mechanic waved his hand and finished his drink.

“Tragically, can’t risk it so soon. Had some internal bruising after the last time and that needs to heal ever so slightly more.”

The other man looked disappointed, but Tool was overcome with relief. Not tonight, not today. Bits of time added to the hourglass, slowly draining away until the next time. He wasn’t so naive to believe that it would never happen again.

“However,” the Mechanic said, his standing prompting his guest to down his drink and stand as well. “There are multiple forms of correction on hand.”

The pair walked to the door and the Mechanic paused, motioning for Tool to follow only once. Tool swallowed, knowing full well this was their only chance to not make the punishment even worse. So they followed.

The Mechanic led them all to his office. The guest marveled at the screen and readouts, skimming over the data uncomprehendingly.

“Tool - the table.”

Tool moved to obey automatically, cold seeping into his bones. This was the workshop, the Mechanic’s office - easily the second most dangerous room in the manor.

Easily, Tool opened the hollow cabinet and unfolded the exam table down. Usually it was hidden away, unnecessary and simply filling up space. But there were always tests, always small examinations and experiments that the Mechanic needed it for, so it was always in the room. Always available at a moment’s notice.

It was padded lightly, restraints hanging loose and haunting. Even as simple strips of leather and rivets, no one could mistake them as harmless or innocent.

“Tilt it up to 30 degrees and get on your back.”

Tool paused a moment to let a violent shiver run down his spine. When it was finished, he completed the order and apprehensively laid back. The feeling of the fake leather was already enough to make his skin crawl, to make his tense and joints lock up. It was like the texture could freeze him, trap him there catatonic.

The Mechanic hummed in approval and stepped over to tighten the restraints. Straps over thin wrists and ankles, across scrawny legs and chest. He left the forehead strap undone for now, but it wouldn’t stay that way.

“I gotta say, he’s much more behaved now. Wonder what it was that made him stop out there?”

“No way of knowing. Humans are fickle, complex things. And I would never deny that they are in fact human,” the Mechanic mused as he set a small box on the side tray and peeled back the connector stickers. Tool whimpered softly, remembering the last time he had been punished this way. Before the Machine, before anything, really.

The guest watched, fascinated as the Mechanic pushed back Tool’s auburn bangs and stuck two connectors on his forehead. “You doing electroshock?”

“Electroconvulsive therapy,” the older man corrected, slipping a mouthguard between Tool’s teeth. “That’s an outdated term, muddied by horror movies and tales of medical malpractice. Electroconvulsive therapy can be incredibly effective and helpful with many conditions.” He smirked and looked down at his assistant, soaking in their trembling and quick pants through their nose. “Perfectly safe under the watchful eye of a licensed physician, isn’t it?”

“Are you a licensed physician?” The guest snorted. The Mechanic grinned wildly as he leaned back over to the box.

“No, I am not.”

The latest round of shocks ended and left Tool panting, writhing against the restraints. He was making a wounded, warbling sound as he laid there limply. He was jittery as if he was in the depth of anxiety, muscles burning and aching. His jaw, his neck, even down into his shoulder burned and pulled. His head was pounding, breaths weak and uneven as he struggled to swallow properly. He was tired, he just wanted this to end.

Tool heard the Mechanic fiddling with something, and let out another broken whimper. No, no more; please.

“Another round? Damn dude, how many are you gonna do?”

“Last one. Want to make sure it sticks, so the fear stays even when they forget.”

“Forget?” asked the guest from his chair. The Mechanic had brought it over for him earlier in the night, grabbing one for himself as well.

Before he answered the question, he started the next cycle of shocks. Tool jolted and cried out, tense and in pain. The shock lasted no longer than a few seconds, but the seizure it triggered lasted a minute longer. It was a clashing of senses, like he was both ends of a tug of war. Every muscle was weak and loose, but spasming and jerking at the same time. It was stiffness and motion all once, pulling him into a daze and sharpening every sense simultaneously.

When the convulsions finally went away, Tool was exhausted. They could barely move, barely remember to breathe. Information floated uselessly around them, not meaning much. Finally, they were able to catch the conversation once again.

“-ike, not at all? Damn.”

“No way of knowing what they may or may not remember, but there’s a good chance. Don’t worry, you’ll have an opportunity to meet them again. And maybe,” the Mechanic changed his volume, addressing Tool now, “Next time my assistant here will behave from the start.”

Tool whimpered. Yes, Yes they would behave. They would be obedient, they swore it.

The guest laughed, standing now that the entertainment for the evening was over. “Either works for me! I enjoyed this immensely. You’ve done a fascinating thing, Nigel. I’d love to get my hands on one of my own.”

The Mechanic smirked knowingly, something plotting in his mind. “Oh, I think that could be arranged.”

tagging @unicornscotty @as-a-matter-of-whump @starnight-whump @whump-me-all-night-long @whump-it @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @valkyrie-whump @cupcakes-and-pain @whole-and-apart-and-between @misspelledwitch @fanmanga1357-blog @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @just-a-raccoon-in-a-party-hat and @thehopelessopus for tool.

Plz let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!

#tool #tool and the machine #whump #punishment tw #restraints tw #medical whump #is this? idk just in queso #electrocution tw #did some bare bare research for this #but I've actually heard pretty good things about ECT #it's supposed to be done under anesthesia #but it's supposed to be quite helpful.#I was just gonna make Tool be in pain but then i saw that ECT triggers little mini SEIZURES #seizures tw #and I was like #HELL YEAH *grabby hands*#i love seizure whump #also haven't had one in a HOT minute (like 4-5 months)#:DD

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the-sympathetic-villain · 4 years

Text

You Belong With Me - Chapter 23

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Description: Much to his surprise, after being released from prison for a crime he didn’t commit, Logan has been appointed as a the prince’s new advisor.

Word Count: 4340

Anxiety, Angst, Minor Injuries, Restraints, Imprisonment, Sleeping Medication, Flirting/Romance (Let me know if I missed anything!)

Author’s note: You guys can have one extra chapter today...as a treat <3

Logan collapsed on Roman's bed and buried his face into the pillows, barely resisting the urge to scream until his voice stopped working. He could feel his breath quickening as he considered the situation, curling into the pile of pillows around him

What was I thinking?

He cringed, defeated.

Well, that was the crux of the issue. Wasn’t it?

I wasn't thinking.

He'd let his careful guard down for one night and his world had been upturned. Roman had been kind to him. He'd carefully prepared a outing for Logan and had pulled all the stops to ensure that Logan had enjoyed himself. After Remus had made to feel worthless, Roman made him feel special and that was all it took to pull Logan into playing a dangerous game with the prince's heart.

Roman had stared at him with those adoring, brown eyes and he'd made him feel like he was the center of the universe. Truly, there should have been no surprise that he'd given in so easily. Roman had confessed his interest in him and all rational thought had gone out the window. His skin had tingled pleasantly and he’d barely been able to register Roman's words past that point. Logically, he knew Roman's concerns were valid and it was essential for him to consider the situation more thoroughly before rushing into any decision. He should have considered the consequences before he'd kissed him, but in that moment, all he'd been able to focus on was Roman's soft-looking lips and the gentle smile face.

Damn it.

Logan’s heart raced as his thoughts spiraled. He was on the verge of a full-blown panic, but he forced himself to take deep breathes, counting like Virgil had taught him. The process was slow to stop his escalating his anxiety, but slowly, he managed to calm himself down and distract himself with less distressing thoughts. He lost himself, starting to think back to his first true meeting with the prince.

He started to think about when Roman had come to release him from his cell.

Logan was staring vacantly at the wall in front of him, forcing himself to stay awake until movement outside of his the metal doors of his cell pulled him from his thoughts. The heavy cuffs pulled at his sore wrists as he turned his head toward the sound. The sound sent a small jolt of adrenaline through his body. He was awake now, listening carefully for the sounds of someone approaching. To his dismay, a moment later, he heard metal brush against metal as the main doors opened and voices echoed in the hallway. He bit his lip, nearly hard enough to draw blood as he clenched his eyes shut.

Please.

Not again.

Logan pleaded with whatever gods may be listening inside his own head to spare him from what was coming as he stood quietly and started to move. He lifted his chains and silently moved to the end of the old, lumpy cot on which he'd been sitting, staying as far out of sight of the cell door as possible.

It's the middle of the day.

Fucking leave me alone, you bastard.

His heart stopped in his chest and he stifled a whimper at the sound of his cell door opening.

Please, I’ll do anything.

Turn around and go.

He pulled his knees in closer, making himself appear smaller as footsteps continued to approach. He felt his breath stop as the figure came into view and he couldn't he but blink in shock. Relief briefly washed over Logan as he realized that at the very least, it wasn't Remus, but his moment of reprieve quickly soured as the figure stared down at him. Submissively, he hung his head, hoping to draw less attention to himself.

Logan recognized the figure leading them as the prince, who was followed closely two guards at his shoulder. His skin prickled at the thought of being so greatly outnumbered. He dropped his head lower and avoided eye contact, hoping they would simply lose interest. To his relief, Logan vaguely registered the prince's voice as he quietly sent the guards away. But still, he didn't look up, clenching his hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

Please.

Just leave me alone.

Looking down at the man before him, Roman’s heart sank. His was covered in layers of grime and dirt and he was clearly distressed by Roman's presence in his cell with him. He exhaled slowly, trying to mellow his own indignation as he looked at condition of the stranger’s face. Despite the thick layers or grime, it was apparent that dark bruises lined the man's face and his face was swollen from lack of proper treatment. Roman sighed. His heart suddenly felt heavy with grief of how this man had suffered for him.

Roman took a step away from him slowly and slid down to the ground against the wall opposite the man. He desperately hoped this made him seem less threatening. He saw the man's gaze follow him nervously as he sat down but he'd immediately looked back to the ground once he'd noticed Roman watching him.

“Your name is Logan, right?” Roman spoke softly, trying not to startle him.

There was no response from the man as he continued to stare at the ground. Roman's heart ached at the slight tremble in the man's frame.

“Please, I won't hur—”

“Yes, sir. My name is Logan.”

Roman stared at him for a moment, taken aback. The response had come a little too quick and strained and it was clear the man feared repercussions for not complying. Roman bit the inside of his lip and continued to speak softly. “Right, well, I do believe I owe you my thanks. I hear that if it weren’t for your brave actions a few days ago, I quite likely would be dead.”

Logan didn’t move, his body tensed as Roman spoke.

He kept talking, hoping Logan might relax . “I'm apologize that you been as long as you have, Logan. It's not right that you were held even after you saved me. As soon as everything was explained to me, I tried to give the order for you to be released. Unfortunately, my decision was overruled and I was in no position to bargain on your behalf.”

Roman almost continued but this time, Logan spoke up. His voice was hoarse and strained.

“They wanted ensure there was no deception before they released me." Logan muttered flatly. He sounded numb to his own words. "The decision reached me eventually, sir. Fortunately, the news reached me before the executioner did.”

Roman watched Logan shudder. He sighed. “I am sorry you had to endure any of that unnecessary stress. You should never have been treated like a criminal.”

Logan glanced up at him for a moment and Roman could see surprise in his eyes. “Logan? May I ask you something?”

Fear clouded Logan's vision once more and he hung his head. “Of course, your highness.”

“There is no need for formalities. You may call me Roman.” Roman paused, cautious. “Your life has value, Logan, and I don't want to treat you as any lesser than myself.”

Logan snorted.

Roman watched as Logan seemed to realized his mistake. His eyes shot to the ground and he seemed to tense even more than before. Roman sighed, pressing forward. “Why did you do it, Logan?”

“To what are you referring, sir?” Logan asked, pulling his legs closer. His voice was shaking.

Roman sighed, speaking softly. “You escaped the dungeons, Logan. You could easily have fled the castle. Why did you save me?”

“I wouldn’t have made it far.” He sounded defeated. The cuffs around his wrists jingled together as he pulled them to his chest.

“You moved through the halls completely undetected for hours while the castle were on high alert to find the supplies you needed to craft the cure. To do so while evading capture of my entire guard is a near impossible feat.” Roman paused, watching as Logan sunk back into the wall behind him. “You weren't even caught because of your own mistakes. You were caught because you were out in the open inside my infirmary room. Which was heavily guarded, by the way. Even now, no one's figured out how you got in there without being spotted. It's hard for me to believe that you thought you couldn’t have made it out of the castle.”

Logan shrugged again, looking down at his feet.

“You must have wanted something out of this, Logan. What was it?”

“Truly, I expected nothing in return.” Logan absentmindedly traced his finger in the dirt on the ground. “If anything, I expected to be killed on the spot.”

“Why then?” Roman pressed. “If you only expected to die, what was the point?”

Logan's body was shaking but he gave no response.

“Logan—” Roman pushed.

“Listen, in every scenario I crafted in my head, I was certain I was going to end up dead. I simply didn't see why you had to die too.” Logan cut him off loudly, his voice cracking. “I simply took the only chance I saw that resulted in one of us surviving.”

Immediately, Logan seemed to regret his outburst. He retreated closer into himself, curling his arms tight around his legs. He almost seemed like he was bracing himself for Roman’s reaction, but Roman could only stared in stunned silence. After a long minute, he finally spoke softly. “You’re not going to die, Logan.”

Defeated, Logan held up the shackles binding his hands. “As far as I’m concerned, it's still on the table.”

Roman's heart sank as Logan's eyes glistened with unshed tears. He leaned forward slightly, smiling encouragingly at Logan. “Logan, I'm going to reach into my pocket and grab the key to your shackles. There's nothing to be afraid of as I do so. Okay?”

Logan paused and nodded at him suspiciously.

Roman smiled faintly and reached down to pull a small bronze key out of pocket. He held it up for Logan to see. “If you’re okay with me approaching, I will take those off.”

Logan looked up at him cautiously, as if trying to gauge the truthfulness of Roman's words.

“I can also slide the key to you, if that would make you more comfortable.” Roman paused, feeling guilty. “I swear I would have taken them off immediately, but—”

“But you were afraid I might escape—” Logan swallowed, looking away despondently. “—or that I might hurt you.”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “No, Logan. You’re clearly shaken and I didn’t want to frighten you by immediately stepping into your space.”

Logan looked up at the prince, cautiously processing the words. His glance eventually fell on the key in Roman's hand.

“There's no catch. I tried to have you released days ago.” Roman's smiled encouragingly. “The door's open, Logan. There's nothing keeping you here any longer.”

Logan raised an eyebrow and leaned forward around the cot next to him to see the door hanging open. Surprised, Logan slowly turned to look back at Roman, suddenly not breaking eye contact.

“Alright.” Logan held out his wrists. “Please, sir. Take them off.”

Roman nodded and slowly made his way across the room, careful not to loom over Logan. He gently held underneath Logan's binds, holding them still as he slipped the key into the shackles’ locks. He frowned seeing the bruises around Logan's wrists. The skin looked like it had been rubbed raw the bruises gave way to irritated, red welts.

“That doesn't look good.” Roman commented as he unlocked the binds on his other wrist.

Logan pulled his arms back, crossing them and hiding his wrists. Logan looked away. “I suspect I had a mild allergic reaction to the metal. It should abate once they’re off.”

“I'm so sorry.” Roman looked at him sympathetically. He paused briefly as he unlocked the other cuff, gently setting them off to the side. “Logan, I know you must be anxious to get out of here but—”

Logan tensed, closing his eyes.

“—I'd like to ask you to join me for a walk. There is more I would like to discuss with you, if you’ll have me.”

Logan paused, looking up at him in shock. “That's all you want?”

“Nothing more. You have my word,” Roman smiled encouragingly at him. “and you can say no, if you like. You’re not a prisoner anymore.” Roman offered Logan a hand up.

Logan hesitantly took the prince's hand, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. He staggered slightly but the prince caught him.

“Careful there. Are you okay?” Roman asked.

“I'm fine. I simply got dizzy.” He pulled away from the prince’s grasp, leaning against the wall. He looked away, guiltily. “I haven't been sleeping well lately.”

“No, I suppose not.” Roman said, glancing at the uncomfortable looking cot.

“I'm fine. Can we go, sire?” Logan muttered, avoiding eye contact once again.

“Of course, but please let me know if you need assistance.” Roman frowned at Logan's return to addressing him formally. With a sad smile, he stepped out of the way and gestured for Logan to lead the way.

A few minutes later, Logan stepped out into the castle courtyard, nearly blinded by the sunlight. He paused, squinting.

“I’m sorry, Logan. It's been raining for days. I didn’t think it would be so bright.” Roman offered, noticing his discomfort. "We can walk inside, if you would prefer."

“Please,” Logan’s cheeks burned with shame. “If you'll allow me, I'd prefer the courtyard. I h-haven't felt the sun in days. I only needed a moment to adjust, sir.”

Roman smiled and nodded and they walked down the path in silence for a while. Logan didn’t mind all that much at first. He hadn't had a chance to stretch his muscles like this in a long time and the warmth of the sun felt good on his skin. Eventually though, he started to notice that his appearance was attracting odd looks. He kept his head down, finding himself walking nearer to the prince in an attempt to avoid the malevolent gazes.

He knew he shouldn't be surprised. He couldn't imagine how he looked walking next to the pristine and elegantly dressed prince.

“People are staring.” He observed, trying to appear nonchalant as he glanced nervously up at the prince. He folded his arms over his chest, trying to hide the injuries on his arms.

Roman didn’t even look up. “Let them stare. I couldn’t care less what they think.”

Logan exhaled slowly, hesitating to speak. “So, is that what this is about, your highness?”

“What?” Roman looked over at him, confused.

“Are you parading me around to prove your not a judgmental ruler? Is this all some ploy for political favor?”

“What?" Roman looked up from his daze, appearing genuinely confused. “Of course not. What made you think that?”

"You asked me to accompany you on a walk and you haven’t made a point to say anything to me." Logan hung his head, rubbing at his sore wrists “From what information you've given me, I have to conclude that parading me around the castle was the point of this outing.”

I’m sorry, Logan. I see what you mean now." Roman glanced around at the crowds passing them by. “But, no. That was not why I asked you here. I simply got lost in my own thoughts and forgot to speak."

“About what are you thinking, my prince?” Logan prompted nervously. Internally, he cursed his own tongue, but he had to know. The suspense was killing him.

“To be honest, I wasn't sure what would come of our conversation until I met you.” Roman paused. “But in light of our conversation, I'm certain this is the right decision.”

“What decision?” Logan looked over at him anxiously. His heart rate picked up as anxiety built up in his chest. He glanced around at the thinning crowd around them. Only now that the prince had made such an ominous statement did it seem like few people were paying him any attention. He tensed, glancing around the courtyard for help.

“I'd like to offer you a job.”

“A what?” Logan stopped walking, staring at him incredulously.

Roman smiled at him, amused. “You didn’t mishear me. I would like you to come work for me.”

“Why?” Logan managed to spit out in shock.

“You're clearly intelligent beyond your means. Despite extremely limited resources, you managed to do something no one else was capable of. Not to mention, your intentions seemed to be purely selfless.”

Logan stared at him dumbfounded. “What if I was lying?”

“I'd be able to tell. You are clearly not a practiced liar." Roman smirked knowingly at him, gesturing for him to continue following him. “Besides, if you were deviously plotting against me, I doubt you'd try so adamantly to convince me not to trust you.”

Logan thought for a moment, absentmindedly rubbing his wrists as he continued to follow the prince. “What type of job?”

“I would like to appoint you as my personal advisor.” Roman smiled.

Logan was quiet, eyeing him nervously. “You’re not serious.”

Roman stopped and turned to look at Logan. “Dead serious.”

“Y-you just met me.” Logan stuttered, staring at him. “Less than a week ago, I was to be executed for your murder.”

“I think we've established that you did not make an attempt on my life, Logan. If anything, I owe you a debt for choosing to save me, rather than yourself.” Roman shrugged. “What can I say? I have to trust my instincts on such matters.”

“You're instincts put you in the infirmary for a week—” Logan paused biting his lip as he gauged Roman's reaction. When Roman merely smiled, tension released from his body. He suddenly felt tired. "I have no formal education or training."

Roman tilted his head in confusion, slowing his own pace. “Honestly, I'm a little surprised you don't have a formal education. You’re impressively well-spoken for someone who's self-taught.” Roman shrugged and continued walking. “Either way, I have no doubt you'll learn quickly.”

Logan scrambled to catch up. “But—”

Roman interrupted him, holding a hand up. “You can turn this down, Logan. I want to be clear. If you don't want the job, you can simply say no.”

“It's not that.” Logan paused, looking at him. “I…I want it, but I can’t help but feel you’re making a mistake.”

“I think you'll find it to be a good fit, Logan, and if it’s a mistake, that's my problem, not yours.” Roman smiled slyly at him. “I'm not worried though.”

“When do I start?” Logan asked numbly. This was very much not how he'd expected this conversation to go.

“The title is effective immediately but you don't have to start right away. You can take a few weeks to recover and then we can gradually work you into the job. I’d start with you accompanying me to meetings and doing some basic planning and research and then we'll just add things as you get comfortable.”

“Okay.” Shock was starting to settle over Logan. He felt numb.

Roman continued unaware. “You'll be given quarters in the tower, access to the castle's resources and as for pay I'm thinking starting at about fifty gold pieces.”

Logan’s jaw dropped. “A month?”

Roman raised an eyebrow and laughed at him. “Every week, Logan.”

“What?” Logan stopped, stunned. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t offer, if I wasn’t sure.” Roman smiled.

“I can't possibly accept that.” Logan pleaded.

“That's nearly the base for this position, and I'm not paying you for less than you’re worth.”

“I can't…I can't believe this is happening.”

“It is happening. Trust me.” Roman stopped in front of the tower. “So, that is your final answer? You will accept my offer?”

Logan considered for a moment and then nodded. “I accept your offer, Prince Roman.”

“Just Roman, please.” Roman smiled patiently. “Truly, I can't stand the formalities.”

Logan smiled weakly and nodded.

“Good, Logan. I'm glad to have you on board, and if that's settled, I do need to get back to my work. I've arranged for a courier to take you around the castle. They’ll take you around to the bathhouse, ensure you get fed and get you fitted for your new work attire. They'll also show you to your new room later tonight.” Roman paused, looking up at him guiltily. “I’d normally show you myself but as you can imagine, everything is in chaos with me being out of commission for over a week. Not to mention the extra security measures that have to be taken as a result of what happened.”

“After everything else, I believe I can handle this.” Logan paused, his cheeks burning. “I appreciate all your efforts…and this opportunity. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, Logan.” Roman reached out and touched Logan's shoulder. “Let's get you settled, okay?”

“Okay.” Logan smiled, appreciative of the prince's simple comforting touch.

Laid down in Roman’s bed, Logan contemplated his newfound dilemma. Thoughts bounced around loudly in his head making sleep impossible. He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Objectively, he knew he shouldn’t even consider getting involved with Roman. He knew it was guaranteed heartbreak.

But his lips tasted so—

Logan shook his head, trying to clear his head. It made no sense. They could never be open about their relationship. Certainly, suitors would continue to court Roman. Eventually, he would have to marry someone else. There was no happy ending for down that path. He knew that.

But the way he blushed—

Logan shivered and rolled onto his side. He'd only known Roman for a few weeks. He hadn’t even decided if he trusted him fully. He'd seen Roman lie to Remus. His ability to hide his true feelings had unnerved him before.

All of this could be an act.

Logan sighed, rolling onto his back. Somehow, he knew that Roman wasn't lying to him. He wasn’t cruel.

He wasn’t his brother.

Logan clenched his fists.

You don't deserve him.

Logan's heart ached. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his darker thoughts at bay. He knew he should take Patton’s poultice soon before he drifted off on his own. He just couldn’t get comfortable. His thoughts had started to pick away at him.

It's never going to last.

Logan sat up abruptly, sighing in frustration. He swung his head over the edge of the bed.

He'll get bored with you.

Jumping off and walked over to the door, he grabbed the door handle. He hesitated.

Give up.

He pulled back from the door, turning around. Anxiously, he paced back and forth across the room.

This is insanity.

Finally, he walked over and to the bedside table where Patton’s poultice sat. Opening the container, he slipped two spoons of the poultice in his mouth, recoiling at the taste. An eternity passed in the next minute, but finally, Logan swallowed and sighed nervously.

Now if anything goes wrong, I'll just pass out.

He went over to the door, pulling it open slowly. The main room was dark. Roman had closed the curtains and the fire had dimmed to glowing embers. He glanced around for a moment before quietly darting across the room, his bare feet cold on the stone floor.

Logan found himself standing over Roman, watching quietly as the man slept below him. Logan's own eyes started to droop at the comfortable sight and he almost chuckled out loud. Roman had a beautiful smile even as he snored. He knelt down by the prince's head, yawning. He reached over and pushed the prince’s hair out of his eyes. Roman's stirred for a second before abruptly pulling back, startled by Logan's dark silhouette.

“Relax, Roman. It's only me.” Logan whispered, grabbing Roman's hand.

Logan saw Roman relax slightly, laying his head back down on his pillow. Logan thought he could see Roman smirk at him in the dark. “Lo, what are you doing still awake?”

Logan yawned and smiled down at him. He looked down to where his fingers interlaced with Roman's. “I was having trouble sleeping.”

Roman leaned up on his elbow, looking at Logan with concern. “Oh Lo. I'm sorry. Is it what I said?”

Logan yawned. His cheeks felt warm and Logan was suddenly glad it was dark. “It's related.”

Roman sat up all the way this time, swinging his legs over the edge of the couch. He still held Logan's hand, resting it in his lap. “Can I do anything to help, Lo?”

"I—" Logan smiled shyly in the dark. He could just make Roman's face out in the dim lighting. "I don't want to sleep alone, Roman.”

Roman looked at him quietly for a moment. After a moment, he spoke softly. “Really, Lo?”

Logan nodded nervously.

“Okay, then.” Roman smiled faintly in surprise. “I don't think I have it in me to deny your request.”

"I don't know what this means." Logan clarified nervously. "I haven't thought things through yet."

"You don't have to." Roman smiled at him patiently. "If in the morning you change your mind, that's fine too."

Logan smiled, squeezing Roman's hand as he pulled him up off the couch. He led the prince back to his own room, letting Roman's hand drop as he slid onto the bed. He turned around as Roman climbed up behind him.

Logan reached over and grabbed the collar of Roman's silk pajamas pulling him close underneath the blankets. He could feel Roman’s breath in his hair.

“You continue to surprise me, Lo.” Roman whispered in Logan's ears.

“Good.” Logan yawned, cuddling close to Roman’s warm body. His mind was finally quiet as he started to drift off, breathing in rhythm with the rise and fall of Roman’s chest.

“Good night, love.” Roman ran his fingers through Logan's hair, pushing it out of his eyes.

Logan shivered, pleasantly. “Night, Ro.”

General Taglist:

@somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff

You Belong With Me Taglist:

@cas-is-a-hunter @insert-cool-blogname @ironwoman359 @i-know-im-smart @imbadatnames8d @croftersphoenix @optimistic-violinist @chronicallynervouschild @croftersjam15 @actitus-hypoleucos @unbefuckinglieveable @justthatamount @eeveeeclair246 @taxicabinmemphis @dwbh888

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #ts logan #ts roman #logince #You Belong With Me #villain writes

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pratyayasingh · 3 years

Text

ANXIETY: it just stops your life…

Anxiety: Everyone is familiar with this term, everyone experience this many times in his/her life time. Generally, it’s obvious to get anxious in some situations like before exams, interview time or during result time….. such kind of anxiety is quite common and mostly go/ vanish once the instance is over… In most of the cases, there is always a reason behind why person is anxious and if we address that reason, a person can succesfully deal with this situation.

But when anyone start feeling anxious with out any reason like, suppose you are sitting on your couch,enjoying your coffee , watching your favourite show and suddenly you start feeling heaviness in your chest, suddenly your heart is pounding ,gets throbbing… you start sweating, trembling, restless……and when you calm down you try to recall what happen?? and you realised that actually you don’t have any clue why this is happening to you,you trying to find out but you get no answer, no specific answer and when such incidents start happening more frequently then this anxiety is called CHRONIC ANXIETY DISORDER (CAD).

Anxiety not only means that you feel only low but it also means you feel very high too but one thing is common you wont have any reason for either of these states….like it can be understood that your electrons are always into excited mode not at its normal state ,you either feel too low or too high….🤨😔🙂

There can be anything that can make you anxious when you have CAD[ Chronic anxiety disorder] this something or anything is named as triggers….. list of triggers is so long and varies so much from person to person that it’s practically not possible to pen them down.

I ,personally, dealing with this CAD so I can very well know how difficult this situation is, sometimes even a word like ‘shame’ can trigger or aggravate the anxiety… though if we look into literal meaning of shame it is not a very positive word but it’s very general/ common to use such words in not negative way. Is it possible to avoid such triggers… Mmm… according to me it’s not practically possible. How such things can be avoided??, it’s only possible if you just lock yourself or just raise walls around you so high that you just be with yourself only…… and icing on cake is that even if disconnect ourselves from all people,still we get anxious ,this is the most worst.

And its a sigh!! that there is no magic, no silver bullet which you can just pop in and get rid of anxiety…. 😒😒and funny part is the medicines being prescribed to control anxiety,they all have anxiety,depression as side effect,isn’t it funny?

Its a very tricky and vicious circle, you just can’t go and tell everyone around you that look please don’t do this, don’t do that because I’m a CAD patient and Irony is we really need support, a good support system to deal / fight with this condition. Very few are lucky ones that get such strong support system actually I think(its my perception) it’s very difficult to get such support afterall they’re humans, they’ve their own limitations so I just wonder what should/ can be done in such situations? How to break this circle, how to deal with it at your own level without creating negative impact on persons in inner circle of your life?

My this problem increased to the point where it starts impacting my role as mother.I am lucky that im blessed with very understanding boy but I started feeling that my this situation is giving, putting negative impact on my son’s life.I started expecting more understanding from him,which is not right, afterall he is just a my little boy and

It puts me on roller coaster ride of guilty.

Now the million dollar question is how to treat this condition or atleast manage it so it cant impact negatively on our lives.

My personal understanding from my own situation is that the most important thing is to accept this condition, this anxiety… it’s very important to accept that it’s fine, it’s okay if we’ve CAD or anyother kind of anxiety or mental health issues. Its not something to hide or run from it. Second, important part is to understand that it is treatable just like most of other physical ailments. Third , part is to take help of not only physchiatrist , but also of physchologist as former one mostly deals with medicines , but former one can help us to address the hidden triggers for anxiety, which we may find are not triggers . Along with all this, we can incorporate yoga, meditation, mindfulness, inner child therapies. Moderate exercise , with healthy diet can help to cope with this condition. Its absolutely fine, okay to seek help from family or friends if possible.

The first step is very important that is to accept your condition asap. I, myself, took long time to accept that I can have anxiety , I always think I’m a strong person with tough mind, such mental health issues can’t happen to me and here I’m today, tried all the medications and now waiting for rtms and hoping that after this treatment, my condition will come to initial stage and then I’ll start my journey to get rid of it or manage it using the possibilites I mentioned above because as of now by the time I accepted that I have anxiety, I have become already Chronic anxiety disorder patient and I didnot realise when I reach so far on the path of medicines, that doing yoga , meditation etc become a big task for me, I just can’t do it.

But, still because of the help of my friends, my physchologist I did not lose my sanity and I’m still seeking help though I got panic attacks almost once in an hour but don’t know what’s that thing in me which tells me still you can come out of all this .

So , accept the problem, don’t hide it, seek medical help, family and friends help if possible…….enough for now Pratyaya #panicdisorder #anxiety #mentalhealth

#panic attack #anxiety #mental wellness #mentalheathawareness

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kpopficsincorporated · 4 years

Text

NK (New Kid)

Pairings: Bang Chan x reader, Jimin x reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst Romance

Words: 2217

a/n: wow, I haven’t posted in, like, a million years. I hope you like this update.

-Admin Sam

Prologue, Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6

Warnings: not sure if this qualifies, but, there is mention of anxiety and panic attacks in this chapter. There was a small mention in the last chapter and I should have posted a warning there as well. I also need to state that everyone who suffers from anxiety and panic attacks have different experiences. Each person’s experience is their own. I used myself as a reference. I suffer from emotional outbursts that leave me numb afterwards, and then I am emotionally exhausted, but it’s better than the overwhelming panic I feel. This is from personal experience, and yes, I am receiving medical help for it.

I don't claim to know everything about them, but I know myself, if that makes sense. If this kind of thing bothers you, please don’t read this.

Chapter 5

You woke up to your phone ringing for the billionth time. You could have sworn you turned on ‘do not disturb’ earlier before you passed out, which meant that whoever was calling had been calling multiple times. You reached under your pillow, sliding to answer.

“Hello?” You laid the phone on top of your face, snuggling into your blanket once more.

“Y/N! I’VE BEEN TRYING TO CALL YOU ALL DAY!” It was Chan. And he sounded frantic. You opened your eyes, checking the time on your phone and noticed that it was only about 3 in the evening. You also noticed the missed calls and piles of text messages and social media notifications.

You placed the phone back to your ear, sitting up. “What’s wrong?” You were worried. Chan had never shouted at you before, and with all those missed notifications, you were feeling your anxiety rising, causing you to tremble.

“I’m coming to pick you up. I want you to put on a hoodie; grab a cap and face mask, too, and meet me at the spot. Shit, actually, stay in your room, I will come and get you, okay?”

“What? Chan, what the heck is going on?” you asked, but you followed the instructions, putting him on speaker phone and quickly getting dressed. Chan never came to your dorm, and the fact that he was, scared you.

“I’ll explain when I see you. Just stay on the line. I’m almost there, okay?” You felt like you wanted to cry, because Chan sounded frantic and you really didn’t know what was going on.

“Chan,” you whimpered, wiping a tear that fell down.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay, Y/N. I promise. I just don’t want to tell you anything over the phone. I’m almost at your door.” You threw open your door, looking down the hall and finding Chan. He was dressed in all black, his hood up and mask on his face. He had a couple bodyguards with him, too. Now you were really scared.

“Why do you have bodyguards?” you asked as he came into your room and shut your door. The bodyguards stayed posted outside, and you could feel your heart racing.

“Come on, pack a bag. You’re gonna stay with me for a few days,” he said, rushing past you and grabbing your duffel bags. He started throwing your clothes and underwear into the bags haphazardly, rushing around. “Grab your phone charger, get your school stuff. Come on Y/N, we need to hurry.”

You were so confused. You didn’t know what was happening. Why did you need to stay with him for a few days? Why was he running around your room franticly? Why were there bodyguards outside? Your heart was racing and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. There were tears clouding your eyes and you stumbled a bit into your desk chair.

“Chan, what’s going on?” you asked. He stopped when he saw the beginnings of a panic attack.

“Hey, hey,” he muttered softly, enveloping you in a hug. “Breathe. I promise I’ll tell you, but I need you to breathe first.” You nodded, clinging tight to Chan. You breathed in the scent he carried around himself – a mix of his cologne and his bodywash and shampoo. Just as you had calmed down, there was a knock at the door, signaling for you to hurry.

“Okay, I’m going to give you the simple version, and I need you to stay calm , okay? Just stop me if you need a second,” you nodded in understanding, wanting him to hurry and tell you what the heck was going on.

“Okay, so short version is, when you were leaving BigHit and Jungkook was carrying you out, someone was hiding and took a picture, but they also followed you to the college. And before you ask, no they did not capture your face. They don’t know what you look like, they just know that you go to college here. So, until this dies down, you’re going to come stay with me.”

You didn’t know what to say. You should have been more careful, even if you think you’re safe, you should always be careful.

“Do they know that I’m NK?”

“No, but there are people who are taking guesses. Some say it’s you and some say it’s just a random girl who is in college. Bang PD is taking action against the pictures, and JYP is trying to take action silently. If people knew that JYP was taking action, it would just lead to further rumors and questions, so he’s trying to be quiet about it.” Chan grabbed your mask and put it on your face for you. He pulled a cap onto your head and pulled the hood up over it. “I know you need more time to process, but we gotta go. There are a lot of people waiting at the gates. We’re gonna go the back way and Mimi will pick us up there.”

“This is too much, Chan,” you muttered as you grabbed your backpack, double checking to make sure you had everything.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry, bub. You didn’t do anything,” you ran your hand through his hair, petting his head for a second, before grabbing a duffel bag and putting your hand in his. “Let’s go.”

Luckily, there was no struggle getting to Mimi, and you were quickly on your way to Chan’s dorm. You handed your phone to him and asked him to check your notifications. You were too scared to even look at them.

“Okay, so you need to call Jungkook today sometime. He’s blown up your phone with worry. I already told him I picked you up, so it’s calmed down a little, but you still need to call him. Jackson is at my dorm waiting for you, so you don’t have to call him. JYP is also at the dorm. He wants to talk with you about everything-“

“Am I in trouble?” you asked, laying your head on Chan’s shoulder and wrapping your arms around his one arm. He maneuvered you, placing your legs on his lap and his arm around your shoulder to where you were cuddled to his side and hugging his body instead of his arm. He was trying his best to comfort you.

“I don’t think so, no. I think JYP is going to tell you that you should have been more careful, but I don’t think you’re in trouble.” He answered honestly. This was another thing you loved about Chan. He comforted you, but he never lied to you and tried to make things seem better than they were. He was optimistic when he needed to be, never pessimistic, but just honest. It was refreshing.

“I was just so tired, Chan. I wasn’t paying attention.” You started tearing up again. With the fact that you were on the verge of a panic attack in the dorm, you knew that just being hugged and comforted wouldn’t help. You needed the outburst of the emotion welling up inside so that the panic would fade away.

“Go ahead, you can cry, Y/N.” Chan held you as you let the dam break and by the time you arrived to the dorms, you were feeling much better. You didn’t feel happy. You felt slightly numb, but you knew that the numbness would pass after a while. The numbness was better than the overwhelming emotion that had built up; the emotional exhaustion was better.

After the bodyguards were sure that you weren’t followed or being watched, Chan helped you carry your bags up to the dorm. You were so lost in your head and numb to your surroundings that you didn’t even notice that you were in the dorm. You didn’t notice that you were being hugged by someone until Jackson whispered in your ear that it was going to be okay.

“Y/n,” someone called your name from the living room.

“Hello,” you greeted JYP robotically with a small bow. He gave you a sympathetic smile, understanding.

“Have you started seeing that doctor I told you about,” he asked as he stood, giving you a look that made you feel like you’d done something wrong.

“No, sir, I haven’t yet. I forgot to even look into it. I’m sorry,” you bowed again.

“It’s fine, Y/N. I’ll get you an appointment set up.”

“But-“

“You had your chance to set the appointment yourself. You waited too long and I know it’s getting worse,” he said with that ‘You know I’m right, so don’t argue’ look on his face.

“Yes, sir,” you bow again. He sighs heavily, motioning for you to sit on the couch.

“I need you to tell me what happened.”

You explain what happened, keeping your eyes focused on the coffee table in front of you, not looking up once.

“We had been working on the song until, like, 5 something. I was so tired and I hadn’t been getting much sleep lately. So I went into my ‘shut down, bed now’ mode and I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings. Jungkook helped me down to the van – I had almost fallen over completely in the elevator. He offered to carry me, and if it weren’t for that, I would have fallen asleep in the elevator and would have been dead to the world for a few hours. When I made it to the van, I went to sleep on the floor of it, and that was it. Mimi dropped me off at the campus, I went to my room and went straight to sleep. I’m so sorry for not paying attention,” you sighed, closing your eyes, and trying not to cry in front of the boss man.

“You’re not in trouble, but, because of this, I would like to move you to a private dorm that isn’t on campus. You’re already one of my artists, you have a manager who can drive you to the campus when you need to be there. You already spend most of your time either here or at the company. It won’t be much of a difference for you, except you’ll be safer. You’ll be a couple of floors away from Chan if you need any help. I think this would be the best course of action for now.”

You had a feeling that he would say this. When you had first signed the contract, he tried to convince you to move to a private dorm, but you were already paying to stay on campus. It would be a waste of money if you moved.

As you opened your mouth to argue, he held his hand up. “I’m not asking. I’ve already taken care of everything. Your new dorm will be ready in a week. You’ll be spending this week going to classes and packing everything up. Mimi will be with you at all times except during your classes. I’m also assigning you an extra manager, but she’ll be more of a guard than an actual manager. Mimi might be fierce, but she isn’t fierce enough that extra backup wouldn’t be helpful.”

You opened your mouth to argue again, but he kept going. “You don’t have to pay for anything. It will be taken care of, Y/N. I would also prefer if you stayed with Jackson until your room is ready, but I know you’ll be here with Chan, anyway.” At that, he gave you a knowing look.

You crossed your arms over your chest and pouted, a blush marking your face at what was being insinuated. “Where are the rest of the boys?” you asked.

JYP gave you an infuriating smile – a smile you wanted to wipe off of his face but knew it would be extremely rude to do so. He knew he won by the change in topic, but he only won because you didn’t get a chance to say anything earlier. Despite everything, you were happy that he was trying to make sure you were safe. Having a bodyguard posted outside your door on campus would be like a huge blinking sign that said, “THIS IS NK, SHE LIVES HERE IN THIS ROOM.” You understood why he was making you move and understood why you were getting an extra manager; you respected his decision. He was only trying to help. Plus, he was paying your bills right now anyway.

“They’re at practice,” Chan answered from his seat at the kitchen table. You sat up so quickly, you felt slightly dizzy.

“Did I make you miss practice?” you asked, worried. Chan deserved better than a friend who was a constant distraction.

“No, JYP did,” he answered, smiling at his boss.

“Chan is going back to practice in an hour,” JYP rolled his eyes with affection, smiling kindly. “Jackson is going to stay with you for now. I should get back to the company and see if we can get things sorted with all of those reporters posted outside the university.”

He stood to leave, everyone standing as well to walk him out the door. He told you he’d keep in touch and keep you updated on the details and you were grateful.

It had been such a long day already and you were ready to go back to sleep.

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heroacademiasstuff · 5 years

Text

confessions

Izuku seeks relationship advice from his idol and mentor

Also available on my ao3 account: dolphins

Finally the school bell rang, signalling the end of a long, tiresome but fulfilling day. Afternoon sun began to filter through the slots in the blinds, making the little spots of dust glow like fireflies in the air. Toshinori began to gather up his textbooks and papers to grade, shoving them haphazardly into his satchel. Naomasa had told him he would to invest in a bigger bag- perhaps one that was more secure than this ragged, old thing, but he hadn't gotten round to heading to the shops yet.

Stomach beginning to ache slightly, he knew it wouldn't be long until he would need a second dose of his medication and a small meal to reduce the impending nausea. It was good he could even last this long, slinking back into his true form not long after three-thirty. Screams echoed, muffled from outside as the zoo of kids made their hurried way home. Or to the dorms. Whichever their choice. Now was the perfect time to catch up on lesson planning and have a cup of tea. Well, if what Toshinori scribbled out could be perceived as a lesson plan. It was more just a vague outline. Proper planning would take time, or so Nezu kept telling him.

Floors began to be polished, the soft whirring settling him as he opened up his diary. A knock. Gently, as though barely there on his door. At this time, who on Earth could be there? Aizawa would more than likely be at home to nap before his nightly patrol, Hizashi had his radio show and Midnight rarely stayed past the end of the bell herself.

"Come in?" Toshinori called, eyebrows raising to meet Midoriya creeping into his class like a mouse.

It was not the first time this had happened. The boy had been circling him like a timid vulture all week, fleeing right before he took hold of his pray. Questions formed in his mouth but the words refused to come up, blushing and stuttering, changing whatever subject had yet to be discussed. It was quite sweet, if Toshinori said so himself. Of course, he wouldn't draw attention to the matter as if Midoriya had something he wished to discuss, it was better to wait until he was ready. Not to say he wasn't curious.

"Young Midoriya!" He grinned, bouncing up off the chair and greeting the boy with genuine enthusiasm. Shy grins, eyes averted and darting anywhere but at him, Toshinori supposed he was attempting to grasp courage that was trapped between wedges of anxiety. "I am glad to see you. Sorry I missed lunch today, Aizawa and I discussed an upcoming class trip and it required my input as well."

"No, no, it's okay," Midoriya rubbed at his neck, flustered. Their shared lunches were unofficially official. A bento, wonderfully prepared by Inko, with a little extra for Toshinori, shared between them with stories of their day. Iida and Ochako sprawled on the grass beside them, eventually getting over the overwhelming star-struck feeling of being so close to their idol.

"Now, why are you staying behind so late? Are you behind in your homework, perhaps? I was terrible at languages and mathematics, but I can surely give it a go," Toshinori ruffled his hair, Midoriya shaking his head like a wet dog with a shy grin.

"N-no, All Might, I am not behind in my homework. I just wanted to see if-" A stutter, the first of many as the words lodged in his throat and made his face embarrassingly red. It shouldn't be so hard to talk, not when they had shared manys of meaningful conversations. "If-"

Nodding, Toshinori bit his tongue, softening his facial expression and hoping his body language radiated welcoming and non-judgemental vibes. Watching the boy struggle, drowning with unspoken words pained him a little, so much like Toshinori himself at times that it made a tender bit of his heart hurt. Very much like his first couple of months starting at U-A. It seemed like everything he said was just wrong. Especially when Aizawa would give a stare that was just confirmation of the fact that he didn't really know what we was doing.

"I would like to speak to you about something," Midoriya spluttered, word-vomitting all over the place, finally coming up for air and looking at his mentor uneasily.

Unusual. They already werespeaking. "Of course, my boy. I can prepare us some tea and we can speak about whatever you like." Toshinori led him to the staff lounge, knowing it was likely to be quiet until five in the evening as teachers took to grading papers and preparing work in their own classrooms. Sugar, two for Midoriya. It was likely he would enjoy it, after all Toshinori had witnessed him practically inhale an ice cream sundae after school more than once before. Placing the steaming cups on the small table in front, he sat down with creaky limbs and waited for the boy to speak.

It was like he was tripping up and stumbling over his words in his head, swapping them around and then abandoning them all together. Perhaps looking for a way out of this after all. Maybe he would need a little prompting. Toshinori placed his long hands in his lap and carefully began, "Is there something on your mind? Would you like to discuss your training? Is there anything you are not happy about?"

Heat flushed Midoriya's face brutally, his green hair flapping about as he shook his head. "N-no, my training is going just fine. I-" his lip quivered and he sank his teeth in to stall it. "I'm happy with the way I have been progressing so far." Fidgeting in his seat, he scratched at the worn cuticles of his nails, eyes pointed firmly down and sucked in a huge breath. "I-It is something a bit more... personal."

Oh. Toshinori's head began to swim with distant thoughts. What constituted as personal to a sixteen year old boy? Probably everything if Toshinori remembered correctly. An awkward age where everything is embarrassing and strange. Nana used to tease him relentlessly, enjoying the way he squirmed. Fondness flooded him. Midoriya was lucky in that sense, his mentor had much more tact.

Speak, his mind yelled, as he realised he had zoned out and Midoriya was in the middle of death by blushing. "Yes, please go ahead my boy. If you want to know the ins and outs of anything I will answer your questions." To the best of his ability of course.

Taking his tea with shaking hands, Midoriya wanted the ground to swallow him whole. "I... I like somebody." Air expelled from his lungs like a punctured air balloon. The words were out. Floating among them as free entities, away and out of his head at last.

Frozen, Toshinori blinked. Wasn't this a conversation he should be having with his mother? The thought registered a moment later and he imagined Midoriya bringing up potential dating to his mother and got second-hand embarrassment. His father? Now that he thought about it, the boy's father had never been mentioned in any passing comments- and this was coming from a boy who told All Might every one of his nightmares, what he had for lunch, what the new craze was going around school. Oh. It hit him with a fuzzy kind of feeling. He was the person Midoriya felt he could confide in about this matter. Swarming pride and happiness filled him.

"That's brilliant, my boy! It is good you are having these feelings. Do I know the lucky lady?" Toshinori grinned widely, placing a big hand on his shoulder and gripping it proudly. To his surprise, the boy shrunk in on himself, trembles beginning to shake his body. By now his face was a dark crimson. Quickly covering his face, Toshinori felt a lump in his throat as he heard the tell-tale signs of Midoriya covering up his crying. Choked back sobs, little coughs and eventually drops that fell to his lap in little puddles.

"Oh God. My boy, whatever is the matter?" Toshinori leaned a bit closer, tone sorrowful and moved the hand on one shoulder to the other, bringing the sobbing boy a little closer. "There is nothing wrong with having feelings for someone. It is nothing to feel bad about."

This however, made the crying worse. Sobs spluttered into scarred hands, snot and tears- the works. Toshinori fumbled. How had he got this so badly wrong? Midoriya tried to cover his face, stop the floodgates that were already wide open. Words tumbled from his mouth that Toshinori just about heard.

"It's not a girl."

It hit him like a ten tonne of bricks to the back of the head, both shocking him and not at the same time. Of course. How had he been so dense? Looking back, it should have been so clear. Midoriya went to leave, stumbling over his lanky, growing limbs and Toshinori pulled him back with a gentle tug on his wrist.

"You silly, silly boy. I knew you spouted a lot of nonsense, but crying over something like this?" Toshinori teased lightly, rubbing at his back while still keeping a soft hand around his wrist incase the boy tried to bolt. "You crybaby," he leaned forward and used his sleeve to wipe away the tears and snot on Midoriya's face. He could change the jumper later. "Having feelings for someone is a wonderous experience. It is nothing to cry about, my boy."

Midoriya gritted his teeth, face burning. "Did you not hear me? I told you it was a boy."

Toshinori let out a loud chuckle, very similar to his trademarked All Might laugh but much more genuine, with soft crinkles around his eyes. "I'm old but my hearing is just fine, young Izuku." Deciding that making jokes wasn't the best way to go about this, he pulled Midoriya's hands away from his face and forced the boy to look at him.

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with having feelings for anyone. What you are experiencing is perfectly normal. I'm very proud that you felt like you could talk to me about this, my boy." Toshinori held the back of his neck in a protective hold, staring him dead in the eyes even though there may have been tears developing in his too. Not that he was going to show that. No chance. It was feeling more and more like a conversation that should have been happening between father and son, but the more Toshinori prodded the strange, growing butterfly within his stomach, he realised that to him... it was.

Midoriya gaped up at him, mouth opening and closing with unspoken words. Eventually he pushed them out. "Have you ever felt this way?"

Grinning, Toshinori tapped a finger to his lip. "Once or twice. A good friend of mine from the past. I felt very safe when I was around him. Very safe in a very dangerous world. It was rather unusual." The gaping expression on Midoriya's face only widening as he tried to piece the words together and realise that his favourite hero, idol and mentor was not quite as straight as he had assumed.

"I didn't know." Midoriya said dumbly.

"Of course you didn't." Toshinori let out a loud chuckle, "I didn't tell the public. I prefer to keep romance out of the media, otherwise I will be just another piece of fodder for the tabloids." Placing a firm hand on his back, Toshinori gave him a wide grin. "But that doesn't mean you have to hide who you are."

"Has there been anyone since?" Midoriya prodded, tentative and still sniffling but Toshinori was just glad the tears had let up. Even if the questions were adding a little pink cast to his face. An image was in his mind. It would be highly inappropriate to divulge such information to his student, considering, but he had to admit there was a spark of something there.

Aizawa. A tender balance of respect and being kept on your toes. He appreciated not being fawned over, being held accountable and being pushed to strive for better- something he hadn't felt in a decade or two. There was little sexual to it. Toshinori rarely felt such instincts, as was his nature, but the thought of being close to and listening to the man speak. His skin prickled.

"Yes," Toshinori smiled, tint of sadness there. "But, enough about me. Tell me about this person you like."

Blushing almost on cue, Midoriya spluttered on his tea. Teenagers, Toshinori thought with a sigh. Always so hidden and withdrawn with their emotions. Although, his mind told him, you haven't exactly confessed to Aizawa now, have you?

"It is young Iida, isn't it? A wise young man with his head screwed on. A wonderful companion to keep you on the right side of trouble!" Toshinori chuckled loudly to Midoriya's horror. Shaking his head like a helicopter, it was surprising it didn't take flight and fly away.

"No! Of course not! He's my friend!" Midoriya hissed, flushing and causing his mentor to chuckle.

"Kirishima then, yes? A strong boy with an even stronger spirit." Toshinori quizzed, immediately getting his answer when Midoriya erupted into a rush of no's, and looking like he wanted to teleport to another location. Pretty much anywhere but here.

Toshinori scratched his head. "It's not Bakugo, is it?" Unable to come up with any other potential crushes, he thought rapidly to whatever boys he had seen Midoriya interact with in the past.

"Kacchan?" Midoriya looks puzzled for a moment, as though he hadn't considered the thought before. Moments later, his face darkening as he insisted. "No." Toshinori was perplexed, racking up his brain for any semblance of ideas for who it could be. Not that it really mattered, but he was a curious soul after all.

But then, it all lined up so neatly that he could have kicked himself for not realising something so obvious. He should have seen this before Midoriya even told him he had a crush on someone. It was so clear, like shining, transparent glass, that it was the one person who Midoriya had leeched onto, besides himself of course. Shoto Todoroki. A puzzle, one which he suspected Midoriya had already started to uncover. On the outside, he could see the Todoroki boy quite obviously changed his techniques and disposition after the fight with Midoriya, but looking back, he could see how this had affected the boy also. A strong ally by his side at all times. Who ever had Izuku Midoriya by their side was sure to strive.

"Ah yes, Shoto Todoroki." The name made Midoriya's face do all kinds of things. A ripple of emotions running through them, so expressive but much too fast to catch. It was so obvious. Staring them right in the face like a bright neon sign.

Realising that the boy wasn't going to offer up any words on his own accord. Toshinori began, "I'm glad. A quiet boy, but I imagine he will be loyal and a good influence on you, despite his rather... unorthodox family." To put it mildly.

"D-do you think his parents would disapprove?" Midoriya winced at words, visibly shook by Toshinori's heart laugh. One that came right from the belly and up to his throat.

"I don't believe Shoto Todoroki would be the sort to worry about such things," he explained, the worry disappitating a little on the boy's face, "In fact... it may be bold to say, but I imagine if his father disapproved, it would just be the icing on the cake."

At last the stony seriousness of Midoriya's face cracked with a half smile and it only widened when his mentor elbowed him in the ribs and leaned in mischievously, "Now, speaking of sweet things... how about we go and grab some ice cream before you head back?" It warmed his heart to see his face light up and Toshinori abandoned his plans to actually be productive.

Nerves began to creep back into the boy as he made no movement to stand up, scratching at his cuticles and studying them intently. He twitched, as though holding back and pushing himself in waves. "Young Midoriya?" Toshinori prodded lightly, suddenly stunned as a pair of arms were thrown around his slender waist and squeezed tightly. Face burning, the boy was hugging him. How adorable, Toshinori felt love spike in his chest and he hugged him back, pressing a kiss onto the top of his curly mop.

"Thank you for confiding in me, my boy. You can tell me anything," he tapped Midoriya's nose teasingly. "-And your mother, don't forget." Midoriya nodded seriously and Toshinori grabbed his satchel. "Come on, maybe I can stretch to burgers as well."

The next day, Toshinori was unintentionally being as conspicuous as possible, watching behind a large oak tree, sipping his coffee and studying the private conversation between Midoriya and his crush. Todoroki was as solemn as ever, nodding slightly at times and ignoring the way Midoriya was practically imploding with bottled-up anxiety, frothing up at the sides in the form of an endless blush and stuttering words. Of course, it had never been his intention to intrude on such a personal interaction, and the guilt was all on him, but someone would have to be there incase the Todoroki boy broke his heart. He wasn't being... protective. It was just a precaution.

The kids on the playground eyed the creepy, skinny guy peering in between leaves with curiosity.

Toshinori had the life ripped out of him when a silent figure slinked up beside him and startled him into an eruption of coughs. Blood leaked between his fingers and he swung round to meet Aizawa who had a flicker of amusement in his dark eyes. A travel cup dotted in cartoon cats perched between his hands.

"Aizawa-san," he wiped his mouth on a handkerchief and caught his breath, "You always catch me off guard."

"I'm testing your reflexes." he replied deadpan, without a beat. "You're slacking from retirement."

"Oh, go easy on me," Toshinori let out a laugh.

Aizawa rolled his eyes, sipping on his drink. "Care to tell me why you are lurking in trees? Is UA so easy for you that you have nothing better to do?" he snipped, "If you are running out of work to do, I can assure you I can find something to occupy you."

Sweat began to blossom on his forehead at the intimidating man before him. God, he felt more like one of the students getting scolded rather than a fellow teacher. His hands trembled slightly and despite the height difference, he felt tiny. "No, no, I have plenty to do as always. I-I just have a matter of urgency to attend to."

"A matter that involves skulking around in trees, yes?" Aizawa had his hand on his hip.

Oh. He wasn't getting off the hook that easily. Sighing, he caved like a soft boiled egg being poked in the yolk. "I'm worried about young Midoriya. I can't divulge too much... but he is having a rather difficult conversation a-and I'd like to make sure it goes okay."

Aizawa's face did something, quirked slightly before whatever he was thinking was shut out. "Fine. But our students can handle their own problems, as worried as you are- standing over here and fretting isn't going to help anything. Stop being such a mother hen."

Holding his hands up in defeat, everything that Aizawa was saying was entirely true and he knew it. But as he began to follow behind, he shot back a last glance and noticed the conversation had ended between his students and the boy was hurdling towards him at a rapid pace. Once Todoroki was firmly out of sight, of course. His hiding place wasn't very good then, he supposed. "All Might-sensei!" He shouted, throwing himself at his mentor with a grin despite the fact that Aizawa was standing just a few feet away.

"I take it everything went alright then?" Toshinori pried. Midoriya put two thumbs up and his face said it all. Shoto Todoroki had blushed and was quiet for more than a few minutes, enough time for Midoriya to gather up all of the reasons why this had been a terrible, terrible idea, but then he had smiled, soft and his eyes creased at the corners. Stars aligned just perfectly and he had admitted he felt the same. Ever since the sports festival, it was the first time he had felt such emotions come in a rush and they had agreed to hang out after school.

"I'm so proud of you, my boy. I knew you could do it!" Sun shone down on All Might casting a halo of light before him. A sneaky grin began to creep onto Midoriya face, a snake crawling out of the wreckage.

"I think you should take your own advice, All Might-sensei," he muttered, before running off towards his next class, hair flapping about in the wind.

Looking at him go with a fond smile, then back at Aizawa staring at him with a stern expression, butterflies fluttering. He supposed it might be worth a shot.

#bnha fic #mha fic #my hero academia fic #dad might #dadmight #toshinori yagi #midoriya izuku #aizawa shouta #all might #erasermight

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tayerroos · 4 years

Text

Patchwork Tales: Book 1

A “9" roleplay compendium. Read on AO3 Chapter: 6 [First] [Back] [You Are Here] [Next] Warnings for this chapter: Dysphoria

Mesos smiled as she allowed her optics to close and bury her head into his chest. She felt so safe and warm in his embrace.

#Patchwork Tales #Book 1 #Chapter 6 #tw; dysphoria #Fanfiction #Shane Acker's 9 #9 RP

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dearlazerbunny · 5 years

Text

Lie to Me (Ch. 22 of 28)

Pairings: Loki x Reader

Genre/Ratings: M eventually (aiming for a slow burn here); warnings for kidnapping and subsequent anxiety/PTSD (will be marked before every chapter)

Words: 1300

Summary: If you had to guess what the captured, traitor, trickster god Loki Laufeyson wanted or needed at this moment, a babysitter would be far, far down on the list. (Set after the events of Avengers 1.)

SHOUTOUT TO @molmcb and @jessiejunebug, I’m too tired to think of something clever to put here tonight (pt. 1)

Requested Tags: @deraniel, @iamverity, @yasnooshka24, @wegingerangelica, @themusingsofmany , @dark-night-sky-99, @tarynkauai, @stuffandstuff-stuff, @angelicshinigami, @my-current-fandom-is, @geekysimmerthings, @lokis-butter-knife, @help-i-need-a-social-life, @vodka-and-some-sass

“The Allfather has summoned me.”

You look up, pulled from the doodles you’ve been scribbling on your notepad. The two of you have been sitting in companionable silence, exchanging the occasional barb, but in general just… being. It’s nice. Very nice. “What?”

“Odin,” he repeats. He has a book in his hands, and appears to be reading it, but from what you can tell he hasn’t turned a page in ages. “He has recalled me back to Asgard.”

“Oh.” You blink. And then it hits you. Oh. “You’re leaving.”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“They are not in the habit of telling me such things. But very soon, I gather.”

“I see.” The still-healing scars hidden underneath your shirt all seem to twinge at once.

You look at him. He looks at you. And then the two of you go back to what you were doing before Loki spoke his death sentence into existence. The silence is a little less companionable now, stretched thin by the thousands of things the two of you are not saying.

XXX

It is indeed very soon. The next day you stand shivering in a thin sweater in an open field, surrounded by agents and Avengers and probably more invisible surveillance hiding in the shadows that today’s dawn is bringing. Some small, pathetic part of you honestly expected the sun to not rise today. Because he’s leaving. And everyone knows he’s not coming back. To them, it’s a victory, a relief. For you… well. You hadn’t slept much that night.

No one had told you about their departure, either, except for Thor, who had the courtesy to give you the time and place should you want to be there. Part of you didn’t. Most of you didn’t. But you also couldn’t give up the chance of seeing him one last time.

So you stand on the sidelines, trembling from the weather and only the weather, hoping no one will notice you. Everyone is on edge, even though Loki is thoroughly chained and has not moved from Thor’s side. The muzzle, thankfully, has not made an appearance.

The crowd gathered is very pointedly looking everywhere but Thor and his brother, so it is very easy for Thor to catch your eye and wave you over. You go, and you can feel eyes follow you, but you’re pulled by a force much stronger than your anxiety of being the attention of a crowd. It’s a little hard to navigate with the boot encasing your slowly mending ankle, but you manage. Thor says something to Loki you can’t hear as you approach, but Loki inclines his head in what looks to be a gesture of gratitude. “I will leave you be for a minute, little sister. Do make sure my brother behaves.” A strong arm is wrapped around your shoulders and an affectionate kiss placed upon your forehead. You hug Thor back and look at him gratefully before he moves off towards the other Avengers, all on guard and looking very ready for this whole ordeal to be over.

But your focus isn’t on them. “Trickster.”

“Witling.”

“I feel underdressed.” He smiles slightly at this, acknowledging the formal battle armor he’s clothed in for his arrival to Asgard.

“Well, I would hardly want to disappoint Father, now would I?”

You huff out a breath. “I don’t know how you’re making jokes.”

“You started it.” You wrinkle your nose at him, such a familiar gesture, and the warmth in his eyes such a familiar feeling. The wind ruffles your hair, and you wrap your arms around yourself. “You’re shivering.”

“Well, it’s cold. Humans get cold, remember?”

“Is it? I hadn’t noticed.” But your sweater glows faintly, and then you are considerably warmer. You raise an eyebrow at him. “Oh, hush, a small spell will not get me in trouble today.”

“Liar.”

He shrugs, and the chains wrapped around him rattle depressingly.

There are so many things you don’t know how to say. So many things you can’t say. Whether it’s because you don’t have the words, or the courage, or both, you can’t be sure. But you look him in the eye and very firmly, but softly, so no one else can hear, you say to him: “I want you to come back. Please. If you can.”

He stares at you for a moment, and then a moment more, taking you in. “And what if I know that I cannot?”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and a tear drops down your cheek. “Then lie to me.”

“Everyone is looking, Witling,” he says gently.

“Let them.” Out of defiance and anger and grief and a big fuck you to whatever power in the universe deemed this be the way fate would have it, you stand on your toes and brush a kiss to his cheek. “Keep yourself out of trouble, Trickster.”

“Only for you, love.”

And before you can process that little bombshell, Thor is back and gently tugging you away from Loki, relocating you to a safe distance from both the Bifrost opening and prying eyes. “Thank you, Thor. For everything.”

And wonder of wonders, the god bows to you. “It is you I have to thank, my lady. Truly, you do not know everything you have done.”

“Please look out for him.” Because I can’t.

He smiles sadly. “I have for a thousand years. I do not plan on stopping anytime soon.”

You nod, accepting it. All of it. His fate, and yours, and every footstep that led you to this moment.

When Thor raises Mjolnir above his head, colors you haven’t ever seen before and will never see again shine from the heavens. You hold Loki’s gaze as long as you can, until the flash of light he disappears into forces you to turn away.

The crowd begins to disperse, and you with them, until something metal clamps around your wrist. You shriek, adrenaline flooding your system at the surprise, and you are instantly released. “Hey, hey, it’s just me. Jesus kid, I’m sorry. I forgot about the-”

“Mr. Stark,” you say stiffly, not letting him finish his sentence. You eye the metal suit he’s wrapped in carefully. “Can I help you?”

“You’re going to need to come with us.”

“I don’t believe I do,” you say coolly. “I am going home.”

Stark sighs. “Do I have to force you? Because I can, and I will, but we both know you probably can’t handle that right now.”

“What do you want from me? I’m nothing of interest.”

“Yeah, we’ll be the judge of that. This way.” He points to the Quinjet stationed nearby, and the rest of the Avengers gathered around it. God fucking- this is the absolute last thing you need today. You just want to go home and cry. But Stark’s threat looms heavy in the already stifling air, so you follow him, leaving your heart at the ancient sigil now burned into the ground.

The plane ride is silent and efficient, and its occupants may as well be statues. You sit in the farthest corner possible, knees pulled up to your chest, still feeling the warmth emanating faintly from your sweater. You put your cheek to your sweater’s sleeve, fruitlessly hoping it might feel like his touch. It doesn’t. “Can I ask what this is about?”

“You’re going to medical,” Stark replies.

“I’ve already had many examinations. I’m sure I don’t heal as fast as superhumans, but the doctors don’t seem to be concerned with my progress.”

“We’re not talking about broken ribs here,” another voice says. The archer, you think, who’s flying the plane.

“Then what are you talking about.”

“Magic.”

That throws you for a second. “Excuse me?”

“We all saw what you did back there,” Stark comments. “With the-” he taps his cheek.

Your eyes widen. “What of it?” You say hotly, immediately on the defense. “I didn’t realize it was any of your business.”

“Look, kid, I don’t know who you think you are, but when someone goes up and kisses the cheek of the god of mischief who just so happened to attack all of Manhattan less than a year ago? Something is wrong. Very wrong. But don’t worry, we know how to reverse it. You’re going to be fine.”

Several pieces click into place in your brain. You wish they hadn’t. Because if Stark is suggesting what you think he’s suggesting- your hands clench into fists. “You think he’s mind controlling me.”

“We know he is, kid, we’ve seen it before-”

“You think when he came to rescue me, he, what? Magicked me instead? That he conscripted all those Hydra agents to beat me nearly to death just for an out?” Your voice has been steadily rising, and a curly headed man in the corner is starting to look uncomfortable- they all are, really- but you hardly care. “You are such an ornery, bull-headed, imperceptive-”

“Kid-”

“He would never do such a thing,” you snarl. “How dare you.”

“Okay, hold up.” The same man who spoke before from the cockpit presses a few buttons, then enters the conversation properly. “He would never? Are you kidding me? He did. With me. With other agents. Good people, I might add. And he forced us to do-” he cuts himself off, shakes his head roughly. Romanov puts a gentle hand on his wrist.

“I am very sorry about what he did to you, Agent Barton.” Barton looks a little shocked that you know his name. “And I do not make excuses for his actions.”

“Then why the hell-”

“I’m sorry.” You snap to your feet, anger rolling off of you in waves. “But did everyone here get atoned for their sins and suddenly become saints when I had my back turned?” Every word you spit from your mouth is a dagger, embedding themselves into the air around you. “Because the last time I checked, I am sitting here with two master assassins, a billionaire who made his money off weapons of mass destruction, and a man who I’m assuming willingly subjected himself to scientific experimentation so he could kill people more effectively. I don’t know who you are,” you gesture to the man who’s looking a little green in the face. “But if you’re in with this crowd I’m willing to bet you’re not so innocent either.”

“How much blood do each of you have on your hands? How many people have you killed? Do you think that just because you’ve joined a cause all that destruction just gets wiped from your ledgers? Now you,” you point a finger at the Captain. “You kill Nazis, as far as I know. I might give you a pass for that. But I’m willing to bet there’s someone out there who even you’d make very, very bad decisions for.” You can tell you touched a nerve there, because the Captain definitely looks a little haunted by your words.

“And you!” You turn on Stark. “Jesus Christ, every stupid move you’ve made in your entire life is most likely because Howard Stark was probably a really, really shitty dad.” You laugh at that a little, and you try to ignore when it comes out a touch hysterical. “Try having Odin for a father. Try being played and manipulated from birth. Because I think if for one measly second you tried to put yourself in Loki’s shoes, you might find that you’re really not all that different.

Loki fucked up. Big time. On a massive scale. I know that. You know that. He also knows that, though I don’t think any of you ever bothered to find that out. Have none of you, not a single one, ever fucked up because you were hurting? Because it all just became too much? I just spent the last ten months with the God of Lies, so don’t bother lying to me. We all have. And because you’re sitting here, each and every one of you got a second chance to redeem yourselves. You got a do over. A restart, to prove that you yourself aren’t defined by those shitty mistakes. This ‘Avengers Initiative’ is one big shot at forgiveness for all of you. Why doesn’t Loki deserve that same chance?”

You look each and every one of them in the eye, staring down the most powerful people on earth who could snap you like a twig with a casual hug, but you aren’t afraid. You’re not. You’re mad, and heartbroken, and tired of shortsighted people who think they know it all when really they’re just… ignorant.

“Loki has been messing up for thousands of years,” the Captain says firmly. “Thor told us-”

“And I’m sure he conveniently left out all the times he messed up over the past thousand years. He’s not so clean either. Trust me, I’ve got a masters in mythology. I could tell you some stories, if you’d take the time to hear them. But you won’t, because Thor is your friend, and I get it, you have soft spots for your friends. You give friends second chances. You forgive your friends. Loki’s never had a friend, not really. But I’m his friend. And I forgive him. And I gave him the second chance he deserves.”

A very long moment passes. “But he did save my life,” you say shortly. “So, I guess I’m biased.”

A/N: Hi I definitely posted this on Ao3 and forgot to post on here so you all get two chapters tonight! Woo!

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formalmess · 4 years

Text

For Your Entertainment ~ Chapter Eleven

Summary: Luigi gets help and Peasley receives a visitor.

Warnings: Gore, Character Death, Murder

”D-Daisy…”

Luigi’s chest dropped as he watched the last signs of life escape his friend in the form of unceremonious bubbles, Daisy’s corpse floating within her final watery resting place. He sobbed out her name in vain, his stomach twisting painfully as his knees gave away, stumbling back.

”Luigi, my boy.” E. Gadd approached him, his glasses clouded and face pale. He gripped Luigi’s shoulders, trying to help steady the trembling man. “Are you okay? Stand up, young feller!”

Luigi didn’t respond. He was numb, gaze locked upon the screens. “Daisy… D-Daisy…!” The weight of her passing hit Luigi all at once, his sobs turning to screams. “N-No...! NO! DAISY!”

”What is-?” E. Gadd turned around. “What’s going on?!”

”Bravo!”

From within the recording, Dimentio suddenly spoke up.

The three standing in the lab jolted, moving to focus on the screens surrounding them.

Not yet finished, Dimentio stood up and waved his hands in the air dramatically.

”That was quite the performance, was it not?” His maliciously chilling voice continued without an air of sympathy as he circled the golden box. “Wouldn’t have expected any less from my most devoted and fesity of assistants. Putting up a fight until the very end! What a spectacle, indeed.”

He circled Daisy’s floating corpse in the execution tank with a smile on his face, lifting a gloved finger to his chin in thought. “I do suppose I was partially to blame for the exhaustion that ultimately sealed her fate, though…” Dimentio mused with a sigh.

He laughed. “But who am I to resist a game of cat and mouse when presented with it? Only a fool would pass up such an opportunity. Even if the other contender in the game gets worn out, it’s all the same to me! A bit of fun before the show. Certainly a fine way to loosen up a bit before playing the role of host…”

”Oh Grambi, no…” Peasley held a hand over his face, grimacing as he lowered his head, trying not to imagine Dimentio’s cruel titters of delight from when he snatched the Sarasan Princess away. “I can’t even imagine…”

”-But!” Dimentio continued. “Speaking of exhaustion… I do believe my audience is deserving of a bit of a break. Wouldn’t you agree, my flower dame?”

Silence was all that answered.

”Ah, right… Dead.” Dimentio mumbled. He shook his head, clapping his hands together. “Well, in any case, I won’t see to it that I bore my audience with the same old tricks! Why, I need time to prepare for the show’s finale, after all!”

Dimentio turned his attention to the camera, keeping a hand up against the execution box he’d created.

”So consider this your intermission, everyone. Stretch, maybe get some snacks, rest up... Our regularly scheduled program will start again soon!"

Dimentio further pressed his gloved palm down on the golden box in the middle of the room, grinning madly as his yellow eye twinkled upon examining Daisy's body.

"My assistant will be more than happy to send you off... with a bang!"

He disappeared with a snap of his fingers, laughing.

Without warning, the golden box containing Daisy’s body exploded, the swirling contents inside meshing together in a horrific combination of dark ash and sparks, blood splattering against the yellow sheet of glass.

Bloodied water flooded the camera’s view.

The tape cut to black.

- - - - - - - - - -

Dimentio kept true to his word.

After the three shakily exited the lab, composing one another despite their festering terror, they soon realized there was nothing to fear. Nothing else in the manor was amiss, and none of the ghosts reported any sightings of the jester.

As the hours passed that evening and the night turned to a clear sunny day, it was made very clear Dimentio’s intentions of giving his grief-stricken audience a break were truthful. He didn't attack, torment, send letters or parcels... It was almost as if he'd gone dormant, the cruel beast locked away for the time being.

Paranoia tore at their fragile subconscious, however, constantly reminding them they weren't safe and that he could strike at any time, to whisk them away to a horrific fate.

But, for now, everything was tranquil. Nothing was wrong. Everything was okay.

E. Gadd took it upon himself to ensure Luigi and his spouse felt happy and comfortable in Evershade Valley upon seeing how upset they were after the video incident. And despite the hesitation at first, the pair did stay.

E. Gadd put lots of work into sprucing up Gloomy Manor for his guests, dusting up cobwebs and fixing furniture with the help of various ghosts. Luigi and Peasley also helped despite E. Gadd’s protests, claiming this was his job, and that the two boys should just relax. But, they insisted they help, using it as an opportunity to distract themselves. Peasley decorated the main foyer and entrance with tens upon tens of yellow roses he’d collected, having been waiting for an opportunity to display them somewhere. He filled the large vases by the doors, telling Luigi that it’d be a nice thing to come home to.

Luigi was already quite familiar with the property from his ghost-hunting days, which made it easy for cleaning up. As they tidied up their new and hopefully permanent abode, Luigi seemed to recognize every nook and cranny, telling Peasley tales of his past adventures.

The stories helped to comfort Luigi, and having the ghosts assist in their efforts to clean certainly helped in making him feel better. The gesture turned something that was once terrifying seem familiar and comforting, much like how he’d been when first adopting Polterpup. The spectral pup himself seemed much happier living in Gloomy Manor, playing by their feet while his owners worked. He even tried to help in his own way, ripping up shreds of paper and curtains that were caked with dust or broken.

As the days passed, Luigi adapted to the new setting as well.

Keeping his thoughts away from Dimentio, Luigi managed to calm himself down. He often mediated and read to himself in the library with Polterpup on his lap, left to calm himself down when his thoughts began to wander. Peasley would always accompany Luigi wherever he went to ensure his safety, helping whenever it was necessary.

Mario had even sent a letter to the manor, calming Luigi's growing anxieties tenfold. Luigi came to Peasley in jubilant tears one morning to show him the letter, written in Mario's own handwriting with bolded red ink.

’I'll be back soon, Weegie. I miss you a lot, and I'm sorry I haven't been there for you. As soon as I get there, we'll figure this out together. I'm on my way.’

Luigi knew Mario most likely didn't even know what had befallen upon them all. Not the full story, at least. Luigi didn't want to tell him everything. Not all at once.

Not about the Princess...

Luigi shook his head and pocketed the letter, continuing to try and distract himself with menial activities. Peasley did his very best to try and keep Luigi feeling secure and happy as the days passed by.

Luigi's panicked jitters and horrific nightmares began to subside as the days turned to a single month, leaving everyone in the manor and valley feeling much more at ease. The change was almost unprecedented, but no one objected or complained. E. Gadd was pleased to see Luigi's condition bettering, always offering him time to himself.

But, the professor did still request a weekly meeting with Luigi and Peasley to catch up on things in between vigorous lab work. He never saw the boys during the week and wanted the opportunity to see them once in awhile. Their meetings were fun and light-hearted, E. Gadd usually telling bad jokes over tea and snacks.

Today’s meeting was quieter than usual though. E. Gadd had lost most of his eccentricities, now silent and twiddling his thumbs across from Peasley and Luigi.

"Now... boys,” E. Gadd began, sitting up as he held his hands together. “I know you two have been rather stressed, as of late. But, I wanted to ask you two something. It's just an idea, so hear me out."

Peasley and Luigi glanced up from their separate cups of tea, exchanging a glance.

"What is it, professor?"

E. Gadd took a breath, and then began. "Earlier today I was in Toad Town, just looking for parts for my next big invention.” He grinned. “Which, might I add, will be quite the revolutionary project, something generations will be studying for years to c-...”

He paused, clearing his throat as he turned to Luigi and Peasley, both with puzzled expressions.

“Ahem, sorry, got a bit off-track there. Anyhoo, I ran into an odd fellow on the streets. He was wearing the most peculiar outfit, a purple cloak draped over his head and a crystal ball in his arms. He stopped me, noticing I was looking rather pale, and asked if I needed any help. Now, my complexion is my business, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't the least bit shaken from... the incident, that happened a few weeks ago."

"But still,” he continued hastily. “I explained that, and I apologize for letting this slip without your consent, young fellers, but I informed him of your, uh, condition, right now. Rather fragile, the pair of you are. He explained he was a doctor. Lives in Toad Town, not far from here at all.

“You both need to cope somehow, and I just thought it would be better if you two see a medical professional rather than just bottling it up yourselves. These talks are doing some good, I would hope, but there's not much I can do except offer some words of encouragement. I know not the slightest thing about how the mind works, only what makes gears turn and cogs spin.

“It’s only an idea, but he gave me his information if you two might be interested." He handed over a card he'd been keeping in his lab coat pocket, handing it over to Luigi. Luigi looked the small card over, tilting his head curiously.

It was labelled with the name ‘Dr. Toadley’ and gave the address to Toadley Clinic. The name sounded familiar to Luigi, but he didn’t exactly recall why.

”He said he mainly focuses on having one client at a time, just for an hour session. And he also told me your first session would be completely free. Just tell him I sent you. He seems like a nice-enough fellow, albeit a bit odd, but who isn’t a little odd nowadays?”

"Luigi, this sounds like a marvelous opportunity for you!” Peasley spoke up, setting his tea cup down.

”What? B-But, what about you? I don’t want to leave you alone!”

”I’ll be fine!” Peasley smiled. “Besides, someone’s gotta look after Polterpup while you’re out.”

Polterpup, who was licking up the crumbs that’d fallen to the ground, yipped and perked his head up upon hearing his name.

”I… I don’t know. I’ve been pretty okay, lately…? I don’t n-need-“

”Luigi, my boy, you need help. I’m no professional, but you’ve been out of it for several days these past few weeks. Seeing you cry breaks my old heart, son.”

”But… what if… h-he? While I’m walking to Toad Town, if-?”

”I’ll have some ghosts accompany you, my boy. No one will mess with you when they’re around. Hoho! They’ll be too scared outta their skin.”

”I… I…”

Peasley reached forward, grabbing Dr. Toadley’s card and slipping it back into Luigi’s hands. He held them comfortingly, smiling. “This will be a good break for you, darling. Try and tell him everything. I’m sure he’ll be able to help you.”

”But, I don’t want… I don’t want to remember...”

”I know it hurts. It hurts me every day to think about it too. But, you can’t keep it to yourself any longer. It’s going to hurt you so much more if you do.”

Luigi looked into Peasley’s concerned gaze for a moment before turning to glance at E. Gadd, who also nodded.

”O… Okay.”

- - - - - - - - - -

“I-I’ll only be gone for an hour.” Luigi spoke shakily. “I’ll be in Toad Town…”

“I know, Luigi. Just an hour. You’ll be back before dark, right?”

“Yeah. A-And E. Gadd is just next door, if you need him, for whatever reason.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“Y-Your sword! Do you have your sword on you? Just in case.”

“Yes, darling. I always have it on me.”

“Lock the door behind me, p-please.”

“I will, darling.” Peasley smiled. “Goodness, shouldn’t I be the one worried about YOU? It’s been quite awhile since we were last in Toad Town. You be careful out there, Luigi. Come back home safe. Stay close to the ghosts.”

Peasley gestured forward. A group of various ghosts stood just outside the door, a rather large Slammer right by Luigi’s side.

“Y-Yeah. I will. I just… I want you to be safe, Peasley...”

“Just try and calm down, my love. Clear your mind. Remember what Snoozemore taught you about deep breathing?”

“I… All Snoozemore reminds me of is… i-is...”

“I know, darling. You can tell Toadley about it. He’s the professional, I’m sure he’ll be able to help. Be sure to not spare any details. He won’t be able to help if you don’t tell him everything.”

Luigi nodded shakily, holding back tears. “Yeah…”

Peasley leaned forward and hugged Luigi tightly, trying to soothe his shivering. “It’ll be okay. Just try and calm down. I love you so much, Luigi. Be safe out there.”

Luigi nodded into Peasley’s shoulder, sniffling. Peasley leaned back and kissed Luigi on the nose, smiling.

“I love you.”

Luigi went to respond when he jolted at the abrupt sound of barking from behind Peasley, Luigi glancing up just in time to see Polterpup jumping up on his legs.

“O-Oh, hello, doggy…!” Luigi muttered as he bent down to pet Polterpup on the head. “I can’t play right now, I gotta go, boy... I’ll be back soon, though…!”

“Polterpup, stay in the house, please.” Peasley playfully chided as he pushed the spectral dog back. He picked him up, smiling. “Well, I suppose we can both see you off then?”

Luigi nodded slowly, turning and taking a deep breath. His ghostly companions led him down the porch steps toward the road. Glancing back, Luigi smiled as he made eye contact with Peasley again, who was still standing out on the porch.

“Bye, darling!” Peasley waved, blowing a kiss in Luigi’s direction. “See you later tonight!”

Peasley watched Luigi go until he was out of sight. He set Polterpup down on the ground of the manor’s entrance, letting the dog run off as he shut the front doors behind him.

Peasley exhaled before walking down the corridor from the entrance, going toward the main hall. He shivered slightly from a sudden cold draft of air through the windows, the suits of armor looming ominously along the walls certainly not helping with Peasley’s unease as he went.

Once in the main hall, he made his way toward the downstairs corridor, holding his sides as he went into the library. A fire was weakly crackling in the fireplace, coating the room in a warmth that easily relaxed Peasley’s anxious shivers. The gentle glow soothed him as he walked into the kitchen, entering from the side door off of the library.

He removed a package of coffee beans shipped to him from the Beanbean Kingdom from one of the cabinets, setting it down on the counter. He silently made himself a cup of coffee, only the sounds of the whirring machine and trickling liquid being there to accompany him.

He froze as he felt an abrupt wet sensation on his legs, turning around feverishly in panicked shock, only to be met with Polterpup sitting behind him. The ghastly dog tilted his head, panting as he sat and rubbed up against Peasley’s legs, licking them again.

”O-Oh, it’s just you. Hah, you scared me, little guy...”

Peasley smiled as he went to pet the dog before the beeping of the machine caught his attention, turning to pick up his cup.

He set off towards the library again, Polterpup trotting close behind him. He seated himself in one of the velvet lined chairs, almost hidden beneath stacks of books. He picked up one of them to read, skimming over the cover as he sat.

Peasley took a short sip of his freshly brewed coffee, exhaling. Polterpup barked from below him.

“What is it, boy?”

Polterpup whined, his puppy-dog eyes widening.

“What do you want?” Peasley laughed, pointing to his drink. “Do you want some coffee? Hah, just because Luigi isn’t here doesn’t mean you can have caffeine. I don’t think he’d appreciate that.”

Polterpup yipped, playfully licking Peasley’s hand as he bent down to pet him. He then jumped up on the chair, squirming under Peasley’s arms before snuggling up against the prince’s chest.

Peasley ran a hand over Polterpup’s back, smiling. He leaned on his arm as he settled into his seat, setting down his cup on the table at his side. He picked up his book, opening it up and beginning to read.

The hour passed by slowly. Every minute, Peasley wanted nothing more than for Luigi to come back. The ticking of the ornate grandfather clock in the corner of the room only heightened his anxiety. He tapped his foot anxiously.

Polterpup stirred at the trembling movement, glancing up at Peasley curiously.

“Did I wake you? Sorry, Polterpup. I’m just a bit worried. It’s almost been a little over an hour, and he’s not back…” Peasley bit his lip, setting his book down. “Do you think he’s alright?”

Polterpup whined in response, nuzzling his head into Peasley’s chest.

“M-Maybe we should go find him. It’s getting late, and I know how much he hates when it gets dark outside…” Peasley mused, lifting a hand to his cheek. “How about we go pick him up, together? How’s that sound, boy?” Peasley tried to relieve his thoughts by sounding optimistic, but it didn’t help much.

Polterpup yipped, jumping off of Peasley’s lap and nearly knocking over a stack of books as he ran toward the doors, clawing at the wood. Peasley pushed open the door, but Polterpup still phased through the walls and doors, the pup rather impatient.

“Hey, slow down! Not all of us can just go straight through walls, you know!” Peasley playfully scolded as he ran after Polterpup.

Entering the main hall, Peasley watched as Polterpup briefly waited for Peasley to ensure he was still following before immediately bolting through the doors leading to the entrance, barking loudly as he went.

“Polterpup!” Peasley called as he opened the doors to the corridor. The same cold draft of air hit him as he entered, squinting down the hall as he started toward the entrance.

Oddly enough, he couldn’t hear Polterpup anymore.

He stiffened upon hearing shuffling on the other side of the doors, pausing in his tracks.

“Luigi?” He questioned as he pushed open the doors, glancing around the entrance hall carefully as he walked in. “Luigi, is that you-?”

He froze.

“Ahahahaha! Look who finally decided to show up!”

Peasley could practically feel his heart stop at the sound of the now-familiar laughter. He stepped back instinctively, horrified at the smiling figure standing before him.

Dimentio stood dressed in his usual garb, a violet and yellow cape draped over his shoulders. The bells on his jester hat jingled as he moved his head, smiling eerily. His mask was almost completely fixed, but small pieces of it were still broken. The jester was holding a snarling Polterpup in his arms, the dog furiously trying to escape his hold, but Dimentio’s expression didn’t change.

“Ah, it’s always a pleasure to meet my hapless victims before the show. Especially you! Why, I feel as though we should’ve had this meeting ages ago.”

His smile only grew as he relished in Peasley’s absolute terror.

“Ahahaha! You almost look surprised, princey!”

Peasley refused to respond, merely keeping his distance.

“Don’t act so shocked, you had to have known this was coming. Even the most dense of imbeciles would have been able to guess I wouldn’t let Luigi’s darling husband just get out of this alive, right? Or perhaps that’s your foolishness at work again?” Dimentio laughed cruelly. “Mr. ‘Oh, he’ll leave us alone if we just wait it out!’, Mr. ‘Maybe he’ll just give up!’, how I am ever-so-pleased to meet your acquaintance at last!”

Polterpup growled in Dimentio’s hold, baring his teeth before chomping down on Dimentio’s hand. Dimentio released a shrill shriek, glaring at Polterpup.

Dimentio’s porcelain smile twisted into a frown. “Miserable creature...”

He snapped his fingers, Polterpup releasing a final growl and sharp yelp before he disappeared from sight, seemingly into thin air.

“Polterpup!” Peasley held back a horrified scream. “W-What did you just do-?!”

“Oh, the mutt’s fine! I just sent him off to my own little pocket dimension for a bit. I just got the place tidied up, after all.”

Peasley stepped back, trying to keep himself from shivering. He reached behind him, grabbing the door handle.

”Well, now that that distraction is out of the way…”

Dimentio held out a hand for Peasley to shake, to which Peasley responded by stepping back further.

”Oh, what? You’re not going to shake my hand? Too good for that, I suppose.” Dimentio scoffed, lowering his outstretched hand. “Fine. Be impolite then.”

Peasley ignored Dimentio as he reached to his side, moving to grab the hilt of his sword.

”No introductions will be necessary for me, I suppose. Surely you know who I am, and you must know exactly why I’m here. Why, you’re my next act, after all!”

”I-I’m not afraid of you, Dimentio.” Peasley spoke confidently.

”Ahaha… Now that’s a laugh! You can say that all you like, but it won’t change a thing. You’re uncontrollably shaking, like a leaf desperately clinging onto a tree during the coldest and foulest of winter days…”

Dimentio floated forward, hovering off the ground slightly. He moved fluidly, his mismatched eyes watching Peasley’s every movement as he leered at him.

“I suppose you must be curious about what your role during my show may entail. I would just hate to spoil the surprise, but let’s just say it will be quite the show-stopper! Quite a fun welcome back from our short intermission.”

Dimentio suddenly appeared beside Peasley, teleporting to his left side and pushing him back into the middle of the entrance hall. Peasley broke his composure, having lost the grip on his sword.

“No, you won’t be the finale of my show, I’m sorry to say. And you won’t even be the first prince I’ve had onstage either! Aw, what a shame, indeed. I know how much that must hurt your egotistical heart, not being important at all to the program…” Dimentio mockingly pouted, running a finger down his mask to imitate a tear.

Dimentio hoisted Peasley to his feet, staring into his eyes.

“But, you’ll still be a marvelous addition… I’ve planned a very special trick for you.”

Peasley pulled himself out of Dimentio’s grip, stumbling away. He reached to the table along the wall, picking up one of the flower vases he’d put out. As soon as Dimentio lunged toward him again, Peasley slammed the vase over Dimentio’s head, the sound of glass shattering filling the otherwise silent entrance hall.

Dimentio clambered backward, reaching a hand up to his now-broken mask shakily. Black liquid spilt from the cracks onto his gloved hands, thick streams of pure jet-black fluid dripping down the white side of his mask.

Peasley staggered back momentarily before he turned on his heel and bolted away from the entrance hall, rushing out of sight as he dashed down the corridor.

“We’re playing rough, then…? Fine. I can deal with that…”

Dimentio wiped away at the black liquid trickling down his face, his cracked smile twitching.

“Let the games begin.”

- - - - - - - - - -

“T-Thank you, again, Dr. Toadley, f-for everything.” Luigi’s meek voice trembled slightly as he spoke.

The meeting at the clinic had gone much better than he originally thought it would, feeling a sense of renewal fill his chest. It had gone a little longer than he would’ve liked, but the time spent further delving into ways to cope certainly helped.

”It's just been really hard to talk about that kinda stuff lately…”

“Are you feeling better now? Of course you are.” Toadley spoke quickly, brushing his hands off on his cloak. The blackened coat draped over his head concealed most of his features, but Luigi didn’t complain. Eye contact made him nervous. “Will I see you again? I assume so. My services have proven themselves formidable to you, correct?”

“Yes-”

“Of course I’m correct. Stop by the clinic at any time. My intern will see to it that you’re first in line for my services.”

“T-Thank you, Dr. Toadley.” Luigi smiled. “I-I really am feeling a lot better.”

“Happy to hear. Now, hurry on home.” Toadley spoke hastily. “Tell E. Gadd I said hello. And Luigi?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t forget our talk. You have an unseen potential. I foresee you doing great things.”

“T-Thank you! And will do. I-I’ll probably see you later…!”

Luigi rushed out of Toadley Clinic to the waiting group of ghosts, a smile on his face. He waved goodbye to Dr. Toadley, who saw him off at the door.

The ghosts led their mortal companion back to Evershade Valley, chattering back and forth.

The doctor grinned as he watched Luigi go. But his smile was not his own.

He’d completed his assigned task.

For, what Luigi failed to notice upon his leaving, was the small green sprout curled around Toadley’s cranium.

- - - - - - - - - -

Peasley ran without stopping.

He couldn’t breathe, his vision hazy with tears and his heart pounding in his ears. His skull rattled as he tried to compose himself, attempting to catch his breath. He couldn’t stop for anything.

Dimentio would catch him if he stopped.

Peasley pushed open the doors leading into the main hall, stopping in the middle of the room. His eyes feverishly darted around the space, trying to find the most optimal place to hide.

He turned on his heel as he heard the sharp sound of Dimentio whistling, bells jingling from the corridor behind him.

He quickly darted into the coatroom, hiding himself behind the safety of the closed door. He kept it open though, just by a crack, to keep watch on Dimentio should he come close. He secured a hand on his sword’s hilt.

The doors to the corridor were flung open, Dimentio floating into the middle of the main hall. He turned his head upwards, still holding a hand over his cracked mask as he did.

“Oooh, Peasley!” Dimentio’s sickly sweet voice crackled for a moment, calling out into the silent house excitedly. “Come out, come out, wherever you areee~!”

Peasley kept his hands clamped over his mouth, trying to keep his panicked breathing to a minimum.

Dimentio paused, glancing around, waltzing around the vicinity. Peasley watched his every movement, trying to steady his breathing as he dug his arms into his chest, as though that would stop his heart from beating so quickly.

The air was still.

Without warning or reason, Dimentio sharply turned his head to stare directly at Peasley, his single yellow eye glowing.

From behind the crack in the door, Peasley nearly lost his breath when gasping out a horrified cry, pulling his sword out of the scabbard on his belt.

But, Dimentio didn’t approach him, instead going up the stairs to the second floor.

Peasley glanced down, allowing a sigh of relief to escape him as he crept out of the room upon Dimentio’s leaving. He tested the floorboards, the old wood creaking with each step he took. He huffed, bolting across the main hall to the corridor he’d entered from. He pulled on the handles, but the door had been locked.

He panicked, rushing into the downstairs corridor on the other side of the room, shutting the door behind him and gulping down saliva as he anxiously tried to steady his breathing.

Peasley went into the nearest room, the door creaking with age as he did.

He went to cover his nose as he entered, shutting the door behind him.

Something smelt… awful. It was almost like something was on fire, but the lack of light from any such fire was clear as he was consumed by complete darkness as soon as the door shut behind him. He groped the wall for a light, unable to see anything in the pitch blackness.

He flicked what he thought to be a switch, turning on the lights overhead.

The sight that greeted him made him wish he’d hadn’t.

E. Gadd’s corpse sat in a wooden chair in the center of what had once been his laboratory, strapped down. His pale skin was charred and rotting, his head lowered, blood having spewed from his mouth. His glasses lay shattered on the ground at his feet.

Peasley screamed at the sight. The stench of burnt flesh assaulted Peasley’s senses as he staggered back, holding his hands over his mouth.

He stiffened as he heard someone moving in the hall just behind him, quickly shutting off the lights in the lab and crouching down behind an old machine.

Dimentio entered curiously, the light pouring in from the hallway being the only indication of his expression as he went into the lab.

“I know you’re in here…” Dimentio spoke in a sing-song tone. “Don’t try to hide from me...”

Peasley scooted toward the door that Dimentio had left open, trying to slip past his wandering gaze.

“You must’ve seen my little project. Hard to miss, isn’t it?” Dimentio laughed shortly. “I personally don’t think it’s my best work, but it’ll suffice. You should’ve heard the old man screaming! I’m quite shocked you didn’t actually… These walls are quite thin, you know.”

Peasley crawled towards the door on his hands and knees, trying to keep his sword from scraping on the ground.

He didn’t notice in the darkness, however, a small toolbox lying on the ground in front of his hands. He hit it as he tried passing, the clinking of metal making Dimentio spin around, chuckling.

“There you are~!”

Peasley screamed as Dimentio fired a star-like projectile toward him, blasting one of the machines in the lab to pieces. Peasley avoided the blast, coughing and darting out of the abandoned laboratory and running back into the main hall.

Only to run directly into Dimentio again.

Peasley screamed, glancing back over his shoulder feverishly.

“H-How did you-?!”

Peasley slipped past him, Dimentio watching Peasley as he dashed up the stairs, firing another projectile in his direction. Nearly tripping over several steps, Peasley quickly turned at the top, running into the upstairs corridor. He slammed the door behind him, locking it and barricading himself in.

“Yes, run as much as you like, but you won’t be able to escape!” Dimentio called, his playful voice echoing through the winding hallways of the mansion.

Peasley couldn't help the tears from streaming down his face, hopelessly sobbing as he realized he was trapped. He was trapped in his own home with a psychotic jester who wanted nothing more than to steal him away for a twisted show of his own creation.

He turned his head, running his hands through his hair anxiously as he tried to steady his breathing, nearly choking on his saliva as he gasped out in short breaths. Running further down the hall, he threw open the door to the bedroom he and Luigi were now sharing, shutting the door behind him. He breathed out choked sobs, guttural sounds of pain escaping his lips as he hugged himself.

He had never felt so powerless and alone. He could try jumping out of a window, but that would probably end in his death. He didn’t know what outcome he feared more.

Turning his attention back to the bedroom’s interior, he noticed Luigi’s pajamas strewn on the bed and the covers pulled back, the pair having not made their bed that morning. Today was supposed to be a lazy casual day.

Peasley blinked away tears, rushing over to the wooden vanity in the back of the room. He snatched up a piece of parchment that was lying atop it, having originally been meant for writing a letter back to his mother in the Beanbean Kingdom.

But, right now, all he could think about was Luigi. He had to make sure Luigi knew what had happened. He had to protect him.

He began to write, his hands shaking so much that his words were barely coherent, looking more like scribbles than anything else.

An abrupt crash sounded from the hallway. Peasley bit down on his tongue to keep from screaming.

Terrified, Peasley crouched down with the letter clutched close to his chest. His eyes darted about the bedroom, looking for anywhere to hide, soon flattening himself against the ground and crawling under the bed. He curled his body up, hiding in the darkness amongst the musty floorboards.

He breathed in short spurts, attempting to finish his letter despite not being able to see. The sliver of moonlight from the window was all he had, his words trembling and ugly, messily strewn about. Tears stained the paper, the words smudged.

He just hoped Luigi could somewhat read it. That’s all he needed.

He froze upon hearing more shuffling in the corridor, the door to the parlor in the next room over creaking open. He was getting closer.

Tears trickled down Peasley’s face onto the parchment, blurring the already almost incoherent words as he fought back the urge to start sobbing loudly at the thought that this would be his last interaction with Luigi, ever.

He would never see his homeland again. He would never see his mother. His friends. His husband.

Dimentio had already taken so many.

And he was next.

He buried his mouth in his hand, biting down on his skin to keep himself from making too much noise in fear that Dimentio might hear him. He still shivered, his heart pounding as tears continued to fall. He kept a hand held over the letter to ensure the inked words wouldn’t smudge anymore, but he couldn’t stop himself from crying.

He didn’t want to die.

He continued the message, signing his name shakily, his letters unreadable and his signature unsteady.

‘Luigi I love you so much

don’t let him take you. don’t let him find you.

please never forget how much I love you

please

peasley’

He suddenly froze, petrified in horror as he heard Dimentio’s voice.

“Still hiding, are we?”

He was in the bedroom.

Peasley glanced up, holding back tears and sniffles as Dimentio searched, looking into the closet and sifting through clothing. He stepped back.

“Not where I thought you’d be, then…” Dimentio chuckled. “Hmm, now if I were a stupid little naive prince… Where would I hide?”

Dimentio paused right beside Peasley’s hiding spot, having stopped floating as he lowered himself to the ground, just outside Peasley’s vision. The prince scooted backwards further, trembling. He was terrified that Dimentio might be able to hear his heart practically beating out of his chest.

“Well, let’s see. Not in the closet. He could be hiding under the bed… oh, but that’s the oldest trick in the book! Certainly, even the most dim-witted of fools wouldn’t be caught in such a place! That would be an embarrassment!” The smile on his face could be heard.

Dimentio stood still for a few moments, just inches away from Peasley. He held back a sob as Dimentio stepped toward him, humming a peppy tune.

“Ah, I could look, but it’s just a waste of energy!” Dimentio broke his sarcastic character for a moment, bursting into laughter. “No point in looking, I’m quite sure!”

Peasley came to the horrifying conclusion all at once.

Dimentio knew exactly where he was.

Minutes passed with only the accompaniment of Dimentio’s playful humming as he fiddled with the bells on his jester’s hat, almost as if he were waiting for something, bored.

Eventually, after several long minutes of painful silence and waiting, Dimentio finally moved, floating back toward the door. With a snap of his fingers, he teleported out of the room.

Peasley blinked, almost in disbelief, as he tried to steady his breathing. He waited for another minute before scooting out of his hiding place, careful as to not hit his head. He stood up, brushing himself off before he reached down and picked up his sword and the letter meant for Luigi.

He read over it one last time before he set it down on the bed atop Luigi’s pillow, holding back tears.

Turning on his heel, he threw open the door to the bedroom, intent on dashing back to the main entrance.

He wasn’t expecting to run directly into Dimentio’s chest upon exiting.

Peasley scrambled backward after he made contact with Dimentio, the jester forcing Peasley back as he loomed over him, his signature grin plastered on his face.

“S-Stay back! I’ll… I’ll kill you if you get one step closer to me!”

Dimentio didn’t listen, still moving toward Peasley.

Peasley inhaled, glancing down at his ever-trusted sword in his hand before he glanced back up, glaring at Dimentio.

He lunged forward, plunging the sword directly into Dimentio’s abdomen. Dimentio glanced down at the sword stabbed through his chest, his smile turning to a frown.

Instead of bleeding out and dying, however, Dimentio simply disappeared from sight, leaving nothing behind.

Peasley dropped his sword by his side with a clang in disbelief, lifting a hand to his face.

He approached the spot that Dimentio had once stood, glancing around to see if there were any remains to speak of.

But there was nothing.

Dimentio was gone.

“W-What…”

Peasley yelped as he suddenly felt two cold hands press down on his shoulders. He froze in terror as he heard an eager laugh sound from behind him.

“Look at you, trying to play the hero again. Your attempts are almost as sad as your appearance.” Dimentio’s familiar voice spoke happily. “It was a fun game though. It’s always nice to play with my little mouse before I pounce upon it…”

“H-How...?”

“Oh, did you not know that I can make duplicates of myself? They’re virtually worthless, but they make for a spectacular illusion!” Dimentio chuckled darkly. “Nice try, princey, but I found you…”

Everything went black in Peasley’s vision, Dimentio’s laughter ringing in his ears.

- - - - - - - - - -

“Peasley! I’m home!”

Luigi entered the main entrance of the manor confidently, striding into the open space with a smile on his face. He shut the doors behind him.

“You were right! That was actually really good for me… I can’t believe how much-”

Luigi froze.

Porcelain and glass lined the floor at his feet, roses littered across the ground in messily strewn displays. The doors to the main corridor were shoved open, ominously swaying on their hinges. Black splotches stained the carpet beneath him.

“P-Peasley?”

Polterpup hadn’t even rushed up to greet him yet, which was almost always guaranteed whenever he returned home from something.

“Polterpup? Doggy…?”

Luigi felt lost. He was alone.

“Is… Is anyone here? H-Hello…?”

He didn’t want to think it, but he knew what had happened. He didn’t want to accept it.

His worst fears couldn’t have come true.

They couldn’t...

They couldn’t be gone.

#super mario bros #super paper mario #luigi #peasley #dimentio #prince peasley #daisy #e gadd #egadd #superstar saga #tw gore #my fics #writing #for your entertainment #happy friday the 13th #dont let a jester attack you in your house

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