#its great none of them should ever work in a hospital.

[caricatureblue]

By the request of one single person (@cherryelectricboogaloo) I present to you:

Pre-SMP Cari Lore

In the form of writing, for now, but I’ll have you know I fully intend on doing a Tales from the SMP comic about it

———

Caricature Blue grew up in the thriving city of Terra Nova. A technological marvel, Terra Nova pioneered advancements in the medical and engineering fields, pursuing knowledge at every turn and exploring the great unknown far beyond its walls.

Cari, unfortunately, could only watch the bustling city from behind clean laboratory walls. See, Cari was a very sickly child. From birth their lungs had struggled to expand, and their blood ate slowly away at their tissue from deep within their veins. Their parents had given them up within only their first year. They’d be safer in the hospital, of course, where they could be tended to and researched upon for anything that may extend their life.

This isn’t to say that their time at Nova Labs was bad, not at all. Other sickly children in their ward provided constant company, as the industrious child often refused to stay in bed, dragging their IV with them around the halls, wheezing away. The doctors were kind, and attentive, the nurses taught Cari so much about the world.

With each passing year, the doctors found more and more ways to help Cari survive. Cari didn’t much understand what was being done to them. The medical procedures were terrifying, but they always sought to have a brave face. After all, without it, they wouldn’t have the energy to play with the other kids, and those kids needed to know everything would be okay.

Every fairytale they’d ever read had a happy ending, so of course they knew that their own story would too.

One year, the procedures changed. It seemed that the doctors had come up with some sort of plan, and it started with a cannula and a little vial of orange liquid.

Only a few months in their energy had already shifted. Jumping around the labs, chattering away to anyone who would listen until their short breath ran out, Cari seemed to be on the mend, even if the doctors still spoke with an underlying tone of sorrow. It was promising, certainly, promising enough that Cari could finally take part in the Nova Labs Interlock tests.

A series of chambers meant to improve physical strength, teamwork, and cognitive function, while monitoring its subjects for signs of degeneration.

Cari thrived here, truly. It was exciting, so much more exciting than sitting around all day. It almost felt like they were finally getting to live the adventure that any good citizen of Terra Nova should have. Finally, their story was underway!

The group of test subjects became very tightly knit, carrying each other through trial after trial, welcoming in the new, strange man with the spiralled sweater.

When a test was interrupted to call Cari out to another procedure, after over a year of not having to deal with one… Cari found themself nervous. They weren’t sure why, they’d stopped being nervous ages ago. But something hung in the air, and anxiety that was palpable on the tongue.

The man in the spiral sweater knelt to their height and promised them that everything would be okay.

Cari believed him.

Out of their jumpsuit and back again into a hospital gown, Cari was wheeled into a chamber they had never seen before. It was dark, obsidian- In the centre was two giant test tubes filled with bright, orange liquid. Their heart was pounding now. Within one, a dark shape writhed, thumping against the glass.

The doctors worked with solemn efficiency. None of the usual pleasantries and reassurances were spoken, even as they fastened a glass helm over their head, the metal around their neck digging in to seal the opening. Every step up the metal staircase to the top of the empty test tube made them feel ill. They could hardly breathe. The helmet was suffocating.

The cannula was removed from their arm. The hatch to the test tube was open.

“We’re going to need you to jump in.”

Such a simple order, but it sounded absolutely insane. This was unorthodox, even for Nova Labs. But Cari had spent their whole life there- if they trusted anyone, it was them.

Cari took a deep breath of air, not knowing it was the last they’d ever take, and jumped in.

The liquid was thicker than they’d expected, coating their skin like a syrup. Peering through it, they could make out the shape in the other tube. Long and vague, without any clear features- like a living void. Their presence riled the creature up as it slammed against the glass with a single, sharp hand that seemed to sprout from nothing, and it turned a massive, spiralled mask toward the child. It was impossibly white, as if the liquid they were both suspended in simply ceased to exist between it and Cari.

The syrupy liquid brushed their jaw, and Cari realized that the helmet was flooding. Panic shot through them as they clawed at the metal that held it in place

Above them was the distinctive sound of air escaping as the hatch between the two tubes opened up with a mechanical crack.

In an instant the creature’s hand had shot through the opening, grabbing Cari in an impossibly cold grip. Something flashed above them, sending electricity through both of them and making the creature screech in pain.

A blinding burn shot into Cari’s back, their cheeks, the sides of their skull. The sound of shattering glass filled their ears.

Gripped with terror, Cari hardly noticed the shouting of the doctors as they hit the obsidian floor on their hands and knees. Every breath drew in the liquid now, filling their lungs- had they the wherewithal to do so, they may have felt relieved.

Instead they found themself standing outside the tube, in a puddle and liquid and glass, the creature’s dark shape looming above them. Attached to them. They needed to get out. They had to get out. Their pounding heart blocked out the blare of the sirens.

Without choosing to do so Cari lunged toward the nearest man, blinded by the blood that splashed across their helm.

The creature tore through the door, and pulled them into the hall. Through the red emergency lights, they could make out the shape of their fellow test subjects. The man in the spiral sweater.

He’d lied to them.

Rage scorched any sense they had left. The group turned to run. They pursued.

In a flurry of darkness and screams the two lashed out at their captors, clawing through the walls, tearing the place down to its very foundation. It was all just noise, terrifying horrifying noise, Cari couldn’t keep up, could hardly breath.

Cold wind whipped at their bare skin as they stumbled through the wreckage of the city wall, brightly coloured blood staining their skin, their clothes. Red and- orange. Orange, pouring from their own wounds. Smoke filled the air, and in truth, Cari wasn’t sure how it got there. Only that the city behind them was burning. They had no chance to look.

The only thing they could do was run.

#caricatureblue #terra nova my beloved #fusion is just a cheap trick to make weak 8 year olds stronger #will maybe post a part two #dsmp oc #dsmp #tales from the smp

[razieltwelve]

Super Villain (Final Rose)

Citrine was not an especially outgoing girl. Her mother had a healing Semblance and worked at the hospital all the time, and her father was a doctor. She spent a lot of time with babysitters or with her neighbours, a kindly elderly couple. But when the elderly couple moved away to be with one of their children who could take care of them because of their faltering health, she didn’t really have anyone to take care of her.

Instead, her parents sent her to before-school care and after-school care during the week. When they were home on the weekends, they were often too tired to do anything, and she didn’t want to make them tireder, so she stayed in her room and played with the dolls they bought her. She liked dolls, and she could take them anywhere. Her favourite were the Gary-brand plush toys. She even brought one to school. She wasn’t supposed to, but she kept it hidden in her bag and only took it out during break times when she knew nobody could see her since she usually found a quiet place to hide. The other kids were loud, and she didn’t really know how to get along with them.

One day, some of the older kids founds her. They made fun of her doll and were going to take it from her when a little kid walked over. She was in the same grade as Citrine, but they weren’t in the same class. But Citrine knew who she was. Everyone did.

“You should give that plush toy back,” Victoria said. Her mouth was smiling, but her eyes weren’t.

The two older girls were a lot bigger, but they were trembling. Victoria kept smiling, and some other big kids showed up. They nodded at Victoria and stepped forward menacingly. The girls hurriedly gave the plush toy back to Citrine, and Victoria grinned at the big kids before handing each of them a can of Gary-brand cola.

“Are you okay? Us Gary fans have to stick together.”

“What... what was that?” Citrine asked quietly. She wrapped her arms around the plush toy.

“That was those two being jerks because they forgot who runs this place. As for the big kids... they work for me, and I make sure they get plenty of cola and sweets since their parents apparently hate sugar in all its forms. Sure, they can only eat those things at school, but I make sure they don’t have to go without.” Victoria rolled her eyes. “Honestly, it’s one thing to moderate sugar intake, but just banning all sugar from the house is a great way to get your kids addicted to the stuff. At least this way, they’ll have enough experience with sugar to not just binge on it when they get old enough to buy it for themselves.”

“Um... okay?” Citrine knew a lot about sugar and how it could be good or bad, but she’d never heard another kid talk about it like that before. Then again, everyone said Victoria was super smart. In fact, her parents were always grumbling because although Citrine got excellent grades, Victoria didn’t even have to do the tests because they were far too easy for her. “Do... do I have to pay you or something?”

Victoria looked at her - really looked at her - and Citrine paled. It was like having one of the big tigers at the zoo stare at her. And then Victoria’s gaze softened. “It must suck not having friends, right?”

“I...”

“I never see you hanging out with the other kids, and none of the other kids ever mention you either. Plus, you’re always in before-school care and after-school care. Your parents are early to drop you off and late to pick you up quite often too.”

Citrine sniffled. “They’re doing their best. They’re really busy. They work at the hospital and...”

“My Grandaunt Vanille does a whole heap of super-important things every day. She’s probably the smartest person who has ever lived, but she always made time for her kids. I can guarantee that she never made any of them sad the way your parents make you sad.”

“I don’t want to trouble them.” Citrine looked down.

“Hmm...” Victoria scowled, and Citrine quailed. “You’re pretty smart and you like Gary. There’s no reason you should have to be alone all the time.”

“I... I don’t really know how to get along with people.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s not your fault. When were you supposed to learn? Your parents obviously never bothered to teach you, and it’s not like the other kids are going to take the time out of their day to teach you either.” Victoria smirked. “But, hey, I like taking on a tough project every now and then, and my mother always says that you never know what sort or person someone might grow into if they just get a little help.”

“...” Citrine blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Starting today, Citrine, I’m going to teach you how to handle people, make friends, and survive.” Victoria had to reach up to put one arm around Citrine’s shoulders. She was tiny despite them being the same age. “Stick with me, and you’ll have no problems fitting in.”

X     X     X

Despite how crazy it was, Victoria was true to her word, and at school, Victoria’s word was law. Nobody messed with Citrine anymore, and the teasing stopped entirely. It was like magic.

But the real magic were the lessons. During break time, Citrine would sit with Victoria and her other friends, and it was like the other girl was holding court. She had kids in all the grades who could keep an eye on other kids, teachers, and even the maintenance staff. At the same time, she helped people with their homework, gave advice about how to avoid being grounded, and even talked about Gary, other cartoons, books, and video games.

“Pay attention,” Victoria told her. “Watch, listen, and learn. When you feel confident, talk.”

Citrine took the words to heart. It took her a while, but she eventually found the confidence to begin contributing to the conversations. It was awkward at first, but she slowly gained confidence once she realised that no matter how badly she did, Victoria would make sure that it never got out of hand.

It wasn’t easy, but she gradually got better at making conversation. It helped that she was smart. In exchange for helping the others in her class with their homework and assignments, they taught her how to sound more normal and even what sort of things she should talk about if she wanted to make friends. Just being around people did wonders since she was finally able to interact without constantly worrying that she was going to get ostracised for making a mistake.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Victoria said to her one day. “Most of the kids here are my minions, not my friends. They do what I say because they know I can get them what they want.”

“That... that seems kind of sad,” Citrine murmured. They were watching some of the other kids play tag. Victoria usually didn’t play since she was so much better at it than everyone else. In fact, there were a lot of things Victoria didn’t do because of how much better she was at them than everyone else.

“Meh.” Victoria shrugged. “That’s how life is. Not everybody is out to be your friend, and you should never forget that. But most people will be happy to work with you if it benefits them. Don’t forget that either.” She grinned toothily. “Besides, most of the other kids will never be able to learn everything I have to teach. They don’t have the brains for it.” She chuckled at Citrine’s horrified expression. “Hey, I’m not being mean about it. It’s just a fact that not everybody has the same level of intelligence, which means that not everybody is going to be able to do the things I do.”

“I guess...”

“But I think you could learn a lot of what I have to teach,” Victoria said. “So I think we should hang out more.”

And they did start hanging out more.

When the next year rolled around, Citrine found herself in the same class as Victoria. She didn’t have to ask. She already knew that the other girl must have engineered that somehow.

Apart from that, Victoria also convinced her parents to let Citrine come over after school. Instead of going to after-school care, Citrine would go to Victoria’s house to hang out before getting dropped off at her house later. Victoria’s family was certainly interesting. Her parents were all so famous and really nice although Victoria’s mother, Jahne, seemed to find something about their friendship very amusing.

“Don’t worry about my mother,” Victoria said. “She’s not going to do anything to you. She just think it’s funny.”

“What’s funny?”

“That I’m helping someone who’s so quiet get out of their shell, so to speak.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t think too hard about it. You’ll drive yourself crazy.”

As the year went on, Citrine found herself learning more and more about how people thought and acted from Victoria. They would walk around the schoolyard during break, and Victoria would point things out and explain how she could tell what people were thinking or about to do. Citrine had an excellent memory, and she learned quickly, so it wasn’t long before she started being able to pick up on those things too.

“It’s almost like a game,” Victoria said to her. “Once you know how the system works, it gets really easy to exploit it.”

In an awful way, Victoria was right. Nobody had ever paid much attention to Citrine before, but now that she knew what to say and how to act, it was easy to get people to pay attention to her. One day she even tried it out on her parents, and she had to go to her room later and cry because of how differently they treated her.

“It’s because they like the pretend you more than the real you,” Victoria had told her after Citrine had tearfully explained the situation after school the next day.

Citrine nodded. “Yeah.” She paused and looked at Victoria. “How... how much of the you I see is the real you?”

Victoria reached up to pat her pet snake. Count Strangula was a very friendly snake, albeit with slightly pointier teeth than was normal for a grass snake. “Citrine, I can say this. I will never lie to you. There are things I can’t say or won’t tell you, but anything I tell you is the truth. That goes for everything I’ve said in the past too.” She smirked. “Most of the kids at school are my minions, but you’re my friend, and I take care of my friends.”

“Oh.” Citrine wiped away her tears. “You’re my friend too. I think you’re the first friend I’ve ever had, and my best one as well.”

“Heh. Stick with me, and who knows how far you’ll go?”

X     X     X

Citrine made it all the way to Beacon Junior Academy before realising that Victoria was a real life super villain.

She finally put the pieces together when she watched Victoria go after someone who’d beaten her in a spar. It wasn’t the fact that she’d lost that had gotten Victoria truly mad in a way Citrine had never seen her before, it was how she’d lost.

Citrine was a middling fighter, but she was an exceptional healer who had, over the course of the years since meeting Victoria, developed a knack for combining her healing Semblance with modern medicine to vastly increase her capabilities. Moreover, she’d even developed a knack for helping people deal with psychological problems. She would likely never be the greatest huntress, but she was shaping up to be an incredible physician and psychologist who specialised in treating hunters.

While Victoria was gone on a mission, one of the other highly-ranked students had gotten it into her head to go after Citrine as a way of attacking Victoria. Everyone knew how close they were. The fight had not been quick. Instead, it had been slow, humiliating, and utterly crushing. In the past, Citrine would have bawled her eyes out and hid away. Instead, she refused to be cowed, doggedly fighting on until the instructor supervising them called a stop to the fight.

She could see that the instructor wasn’t at all happy about the way that fight had gone, but instead of reprimanding the other girl, he’d simply said to her:

“You do realise what you’ve done, right? Don’t expect any help.”

Victoria had returned from her mission the next day. When she’d found out, her face had gone completely blank. It was so different from the usual smirk or grin that she normally wore that Citrine had been genuinely concerned.

“I see.” Victoria stood up and left the room. “I have a few things to organise. I’ll be back in an hour.”

Victoria had returned an hour later, and she’d been all smiles as usual. They’d spent the rest of the afternoon talking about their plans for the Senior Academy and discussing the latest series of Gary.

The next day, Victoria and the other girl had squared up in a challenge. The fight started, and Citrine half-expected to see Victoria tear into the other girl like a berserker. Instead, Victoria simply walked up to her and started whispering into her ear.

After ten seconds, the girl was crying. By the thirty second mark, she was down on her knees. After a minute, she was curled up into a ball and weeping inconsolably. Victoria knelt down to say something else, and Professor Farron rushed out of the crowd to grab her.

“Victoria, that’s enough.” Serah Farron’s voice brooked no disobedience.

“I have no idea what you mean, Grandaunt Serah.” Victoria’s lack of care dripped from every syllable. “I was simply discussing the rules of our spar with my friend there. Isn’t that right?” The reply from the girl on the ground came in the form of a broken, wailing sob.

“All of you get out of here,” Professor Farron said, shooing away the other students. “Victoria, go to my office now. We will be discussing this, and I will be speaking to your parents.”

As Victoria all but skipped toward Professor Farron’s office, Citrine hurried after her.

“What did you say to her?” she asked.

“Because I care about you, I’m not going to tell you,” Victoria replied without missing a beat. “Anyway, I don’t think you have to worry about anyone doing something like that to you again.”

“Victoria... you didn’t need to go so far.”

Victoria stopped. “Yeah, I did.”

“But...”

“You know what sort of person I am, right?” Victoria asked.

“A super villain?” Citrine said, only half joking.

“Pretty much. You know what I’m capable of too, don’t you?”

“I do.” Over the years, Citrine had seen more than enough to know, and she’d applied all the lessons she’d learned about how to understand people to Victoria. She was... complex... and quite possibly the most potentially terrifying person that Citrine had ever met.

“And are you afraid of me?”

Citrine didn’t have to think about it. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re friends.” Despite what Victoria was capable of, it had never occurred to Citrine that Victoria might turn against her. She knew Victoria. She was like a dragon. If you were her enemy, she was the worst enemy in the world. But if you were her friend, you never had to worry about a thing. She’d take care of you and keep you safe from whatever the world tried to throw at you.

“You know,” Victoria drawled. “When most people get to know me - really know me - they get scared. You’re one of the few who truly understands me and isn’t afraid.” She grinned. “That makes you special. The only way someone hurts you is over my dead body, and I am very, very hard to kill.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, can you do me a favour and tell Xanthe not to worry. She’ll probably hear about this and assume I’m going to be horribly punished, which I probably will be. Oh well. I can handle it, but I’d prefer she not worry.”

“I’ll tell her.”

“Thanks.” 

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

Victoria shares the same sort of moral complexity as Jahne and Jihl but with a possibly unhealthy helping of the Farron possessiveness and general insanity to go with it. She most likely just helped Citrine because she found her interesting, but then Citrine just kept on getting more interesting since she had the intellectual firepower to actually learn what Victoria was teaching and keep up reasonably well. That interest would then have evolved to genuine friendship, at which point Citrine gets added to the metaphorical dragon’s hoard.

#final rose #fanfiction #victoria #citrine #serah farron

[appl3-juice-box]

Okay I have had a rough night and this thing fucking pisses me off

Fynne's friends always complain about how shitty their school is with handling things like self harm, accommodations and harassment but they have it so fucking good.

Because yeah, if a student has been reported for having slashes on their wrists, its gonna get to the parents, whether the parents are the problem or not. What else is the school supposed to fucking do? they legally cannot take control in that situation without parental consent, and if a child is /actively/ harming themselves, the school needs to let their caretakers know. Its not like the principal can follow you into your fucking house

They complain about how annoying it is that a friend of Fynne's keeps getting reported for sh that happened a bit ago and how they wish they didnt do anything cause its not their business but the fact that the school fucking cares is amazing. There was a kid who tried to kill themselves with an entire kitchen knife in the girls bathroom stall in my old schoo. You know what the office did with it? Jack shit. I /witnessed/ my ex try and kill himself and fail, and when it was reported, it took the school an hour to even fucking arrive to clean it. I was stabbed with a spork by my ex because if he killed me then killed himself we could die together and when I went to the nurse she gave me a tums and an ice pack for an open wound that was actively bleeding. A trans phobic boy brought a switchblade to school just so he could grab my arm and cut it, in front of the teachers, and then I was reprimanded for self harming in school. WHIKE HE WAS HOLDING THE FUCKING KNIFE

we had a gang rape incident. I was the only one in the group not raped, but they tried. They then announced who the victims were on the PA system the next day and publicly shamed them for dressing slutty. In school uniform.

My ex tried chloroforming me.

A friend of mine literally fucking threatened to bring a gun to school and wasnt even in trouble. A girl joked about killing either herself or me for 25¢ and that she had weapons at home and so she got sent to a mental hospital for 3 days and was diagnosed with autism. Had a boy get beat up in the bathroom and slip ajnd crack his head open on the toilet. A boy went around and sexually harassed every woman in the school, including the principal and 4th graders. girls got in trouble for dressing too slutty when they had frayed jeans at their ancles. We had a sub who was a pedo, he would lean over girls hug them and rub their sides when answering A question they had on their work sheet. He would sub in gym every so often and every time the girls caught him with an erection and staring at their butts as they squatted. This got reported by nearly every girl in school. He got a raise for staying "such a great sub when theres so much drama circulating about you". I would have such dreadful anxiety attacks in gym that I would actively harm myself, clawing my skin until it fell off or my friends pryed my fingers off of my own arms. In dodgeball, kids thought it was funny to target the kid who was frozen in panic and cause even more anxiety. I would go to the office after gym every day because you know, bloody fingers and arms and bruised abdomen and head, and they had me sit down for five minutes and go back to class without so much as a bandaid because I " did it to myself ". I had to fight for a 504 to take me out of PE. they had me sit on a bench all class, not removing me from the environment at all, and they only let me be an office aide after my mom threatened to sue the school and my therapist was trying to get the counselor and principal fired for their shitty behavior. This isnt even touching on the fucked up ness of another girl that I dont even want to fucking talk about

None of that stuff was ever addressed the way it should have been.

Here, the school calls in the student, asks them is there's anything they need, they have suicide help line numbers hung up every where. We have therapy dogs. I reported a guy for telling me I had nice tits and he got ISS, which is a lot more than me getting a slap on the wrist for having "nice tits"

Please don't complain about a shitty school to us. I know, the school system sucks ass and it needs to be better, but you all take things for granted. Just appreciate the fact that your counselor actually wants to interact with you for god sake

-Flint

[catkittens]

Talbot Baines Reed: The Poetry Club

During one of my terms at G— (and in speaking of that famous old school it is quite unnecessary to mention more than the first letter of its name) a serious epidemic broke out. It affected chiefly the lower half of the upper school, and during the brief period of its duration it assumed so malignant a type that it is still a marvel to me how any one of its victims ever survived it. The medical and other authorities were utterly incompetent to deal with it. In fact—incredible as it may seem—they deliberately ignored its existence, and left the sufferers to pull through as and how they could. Had it been an ordinary outbreak, as, for instance, scarlatina or diphtheria, or even measles, they would have cleared the school between two “call-overs,” and had us all either in the infirmary or in four-wheelers at our parents’ doors. But just because they had not got this—the most destructive kind of all epidemics—down on their list of infectious disorders, they chose to disregard it utterly, and leave us all to sink or swim, without even calling in the doctor to see us or giving our people at home the option of withdrawing us from our infected surroundings.

I love the old place too well to dwell further on this gross case of neglect. The present authorities no doubt would not repeat the error of their predecessors. Should they be tempted to do so, I trust the present harrowing revelation may be in time to avert the repetition of the calamity of which I was not only a witness but a victim.

The fact is, in the term to which I allude, we fellows in the upper Fifth and lower Sixth took to writing poetry! I don’t know how the distemper broke out, or who brought it to G—. Certain it is we all took it, some worse than others; and had not the Christmas holidays happily intervened to scatter us and so reduce the perils of the contagion, the results might have been worse even than they were.

Now, one poet in a school is bad enough; and two usually make a place very uncomfortable for any ordinarily constituted person. But at G— it was not a case of one poet or even two. There were twenty of us, if there was one, and we each of us considered our claim to the laurel wreath paramount. Indeed, like the bards of old, we fell to the most unseemly contentions, and hated one another as only poets can hate.

It was my tragic lot to act as hon. secretary to the “Poetry Club,” which constituted the hospital, so to speak in which our disease worked out its course during that melancholy term. Why they selected me, it is not for me to inquire. Some of my friends assured me afterwards that it was because, having no pretensions or even capacity to be a poet myself, I was looked upon as the only impartial member of our afflicted fraternity. No doubt they thought it a good reason. Had I known it at the time I should have repudiated the base insinuation with scorn. For I humbly conceived that I was a poet of the first water; and had indeed corrected a great many mistakes in Wordsworth and other writers, and written fifty-six or fifty-seven sonnets before ever the club was thought of. And Stray himself, who was accounted our Laureate, had only written thirty-four, and they averaged quite a line less than mine!

Be that as it may, I was secretary of the club, and to that circumstance the reader is indebted for the treat to which I am about to admit him. For in my official capacity I became custodian of not a few of the poetical aspirations of our members; and as, after the abatement of the disease, they none of them demanded back their handiwork—if poetry can ever be called handiwork—these effusions have remained in my charge ever since.

Some of them are far too sacred and tender for publication, and of others, at this distance of time, I confess I can make nothing at all. But there lies a batch before me which will serve as a specimen of our talents, and can hardly hurt the feelings of any one responsible for their production.

Our club, as I have said, was highly competitive in its operations. It by no means contented us each to follow his own course and woo his own muse. No, we all set our caps at the same muse and tried to cut one another out. If I happened to write an ode to a blackbird—and I wrote four or five—every one else must write an ode to a blackbird too; until the luckless songster must have hated the sound of its own name.

It was no easy work finding fit subjects for these poetic competitions. But the papers lying here before me remind me at least of one which excited great interest and keen rivalry. Complaints had been made that the club had hitherto devoted itself almost altogether to abstract rhapsodies, and had omitted the cultivation of itself in the epic or heroic side of its genius. On the other hand, the abstract rhapsodists protested that any one could write ballads, and that the subject to be chosen should at least be such as would admit of any treatment. One member suggested we should try the fifth proposition of the first book of Euclid, as being both abstract and historical—but he was deemed to be a scoffer. Eventually Stray said, why not take a simple nursery rhyme and work upon it, just as musicians take some simple melody as the theme of their great compositions?

It was a good idea, and after some consideration—for we had most of us forgotten our nursery rhymes—we fixed upon the tragical history of “Jack and Jill;” and decided to deal with it.

The understanding was that we might treat it any way we liked except—notable exception—in prose!

And so we went off to our studies and gave ourselves up to our inspirations. The result, the reader shall judge of for himself. Only he shall never know the real names of the poets; nor will anything induce me to disclose which particular production was the performance of the humble Author of this veritable narrative.

I will select the specimens haphazard, and distinguish them only by their numbers.

Number 1 was a follower of the classic models, and rendered the story in Homeric fashion.

Attend, ye Nine! and aid me, while I sing The cruel fate of two whom heaven’s dread king Hurled headlong to their doom. Scarce had the sun His blazing course for one brief hour run When Jack arose and radiant climbed the mount To where beneath the summit sprang the fount. Nor went he single; Jill, the beauteous maid, Danced at his side, and took his proffered aid. Together went they, pail in hand, and sang Their love songs till the leafy valleys rang. Alas! the fount scarce reached, the heedless swain Turned on his foot and slipped and turned again. Then fell he headlong: and the woe-struck maid, Jealous of his fell doom, a moment stayed And watched him; then to the depths she rushed And shared his fate. Behold them, mangled, crushed. Weep, oh my muse! for Jack, for Jill your tears outpour, For hand-in-hand they’ll climb the hill no more.

After this somewhat severe version of the story it is a relief to turn to the lighter rendering of the same affecting theme by Number 2. Number 2 was evidently an admirer of that species of poetry which begins everything at the wrong end, and seems to expect the reader to assist the poet in understanding what it is the latter is driving at.

What’s the matter, Jack? Lost your head, poor wight! I always told you the block wasn’t screwed on too tight. Tumbled? Is that it? It’s a mercy you lit on your head. Nothing brittle in that;—if you’d come on your feet instead— Broke it? No, never! You have? I knew it was slightly cracked: Never mind that there was nought to come out—that’s a comforting fact! What! two of you? Who is the other? Not Jill, I declare! Is her head cracked too? On my word, you’re a pair. Have I seen a pail lying about? Why, no, I have not. Pails don’t grow wild on this hill—that is, that I wot. Oh, you dropped it, you did? Oh, I see, ’twas your pail, And it tumbled you both o’er the rock? That’s your tale. It may turn up somewhere, perhaps. So you fell Off the edge of the path that leads up to the well? Well, all’s well that ends well, at least so ’tis said; But next time you’d better stay down, and try to fall uphill instead.

Some of us at the time thought highly of this performance. I remember one fellow saying that Number 2 seemed to have caught the spirit of Mr Browning without his vagueness, which was a very great compliment.

Number 3’s poetry ran chiefly in dramatic lines. He therefore boldly threw the narrative into dialogue form:—

Shepherdess.—Alas, my Jack is dead!

Shepherd.—I mourn for lovely Jill.

Both.—A common fate o’ertook them on the hill.

Shepherdess.—I watched them go—him and the hateful minx.

Shepherd.—I smiled to mark his footsteps on the brinks.

Both.—Cruel deceiver he/she! shameless intriguer she/he!

Shepherdess.—’Twas she who lured him o’er the cruel ledge.

Shepherd.—’Twas he who basely dragged her to the edge.

Both.—Oh! faithless he/she! oh! monstrous traitor she/he!

Shepherdess.—Her fate no tongue shall mourn, no eye shall weep; Shepherd.—His doom was all deserved upon the steep.

Both.—Oh! hapless he/she! oh! wicked wicked she/he!

Shepherdess.—Take warning, Shepherd; trust no faithless Jill.

Shepherd.—Nor you, fair nymph, with Jack e’er climb a hill.

Both.—Oh, woe is me! and woe, oh woe is thee!

Shepherdess.—With thee, poor youth, I fain would shed a tear.

Shepherd.—Maiden, with thee I’d sit and weep a year.

Both.—Wouldst thou but smile, I too would dry mine eye; Nay, let’s do both, and laugh here till we cry.

Number 4 was a specimen of the simple ditty style which leaves nothing unexplained, and never goes out of its course for the sake of a well-turned phrase.

When Jack was twelve and Jill was ten Their mother said, “My dear children, I want you both to take the pail We bought last week from Mr Gale, And fill it full of water clear, And don’t be long away, do you hear?” Then Master Jack and Sister Jill Raced gaily up the Primrose Hill, And filled the pail up to the top, And tried not spill a single drop. But sad to tell, just half way down Jack tripped upon a hidden stone, And tumbled down and cut his head So badly that it nearly bled. And Jill was so alarmed that she. Let drop the pail immediately And fell down too, and sprained her hand, And had to go to Dr Bland And get it looked to; while poor Jack Was put to bed upon his back.

Number 4 regarded his performance with a certain amount of pride. He said it was after the manner of Wordsworth, and was a protest against the inflated style of most modern poetry, which seemed to have for its sole object to conceal its meaning from the reader. We had a good specimen of this kind of writing from Number 5, who wrote in blank verse, as he said, “after the German.”

I know not why—why seek to know? Is not All life a problem? and the tiniest pulse Beats with a throb which the remotest star Feels in its orbit? Why ask me? Rather say Whence these vague yearnings, whither swells this heart, Like some wild floweret leaping at the dawn? ’Tis not for me, ’tis not for thee to tell, But Time shall be our teacher, and his voice Shall fall unheard, unheeded in the midst! Still art thou doubtful? Then arise and sing Into the Empyrean vault, while I Drift in the vagueness of the Ambrosian night.

We none of us dared inquire of Number 5 what was the particular bearing of these masterly lines upon the history of Jack and Jill. I can picture the smile of pitying contempt with which such a preposterous question would have been met. And I observe by the figures noted at the back of this poem that it received very few marks short of the highest award.

Number 6 posed as democratic poet, who appealed to the ear of the populace in terms to which they are best accustomed.

’Twas a lovely day in August, at the top of Ludgate Hill I met a gay young couple, and I think I see them still; They were drinking at the fountain to cool their parching lips, And they said to one another, looking up between their sips—   Chorus—I’d sooner have it hot, love; I’d rather have it hot; It’s nicer with the chill off—much nicer, is it not?   They took a four-wheel growler for a drive all round the town, And told the knowing cabby not to let his gee-gee down; But they’d scarcely got to Fleet Street when their off-hind-wheel went bang, And they pitched on to the kerb-stone, while the crowd around them sang—   Chorus—I’m glad you’ve got it hot, love; I’m pleased you’ve got it hot; It’s nicer with the chill off—much nicer, is it not?   Moral.   Now all you gay young couples, list to my fond appeal, Beware of four-wheel growlers with spokes in their off-hind-wheel; And when you go up Ludgate Hill, all on a summer day, Don’t drink much at the fountain; or if you do, I say— Be sure and take it hot, love; be sure and take it hot; It’s nicer with the chill off—much nicer, is it not?

This poem was not highly marked, although Number 6 confessed he had sat up all night writing it. He thought we had missed the underlying philosophy of his version, and was sorry for it. As he said, the first essential of a poem is that it should be read, and he believed no one could deny that he had at least written up to that requirement.

There was a more serious moral hidden in Number 7’s version, which was stated to be on the models of the early sonnets:—

Two lovers on one common errand bound, One common fate o’erwhelms; and so, me-seems, A fable have we of our daily round, Who in these groves of learning here are found Climbing Parnassus’ slopes. Our aim is one, And one the path by which we strive to soar; Yet, truer still, or ere the prize be won, A common ruin hurls us to our doom. ’Twere best we parted, you and I; so, Fate, Baulked of her double prey, may seek in vain, And miss us both upon the shadowy plain.

The writer of Number 8 I always suspected of being a borrower of other people’s ideas. In fact it seemed as if he must have had “A Thousand and One Gems” open before him while he was at work, and to have drawn liberally from its pages.

The way was long, the night was cold, And Jack and Jill were young and bold. “Try not the hill,” the old man said, “Dark lowers the tempest overhead.” A voice replied far up the height, “We’ve many a step to walk this night.” Ah, luckless speech! ah, bootless boast! Two minutes more and they were lost. Who would not weep for Jack and Jill? They died, though much against their will. And the birds of the air all fell sobbing and sighing As they heard of these two unfortunates dying.

The concluding line (which was the only original one in the poem) was specially weak, and Number 8, I observe, only received one vote, and that was probably given by himself.

But, for originality and humour, Number 9’s version was the most distinguished of the lot. With it I conclude, and if I may express an unbiassed opinion, many years after the memorable contest, I consider it far and away the best version of the story of Jack and Jill I have ever met with.

Jack and Jill Went up a hill To fetch a pail of water, Jack fell down And broke his crown, And Jill came tumbling after.

#fiction #reading #literature #short story #tale #literary #classic

[ophelia-jones]

Thorns pt 4

Lacey's feet were healed, none of her wounds had taken long to heal in this environment, and she was grateful to be strong enough to start working in the community.  She provided whatever answers they wanted, but was not made privy to any plans they had to attack the Saviors compound. Not that she would even want to know. 

Today, however, she had spent in the infirmary with Denise. She had already known her body was changing, and she was not young enough or naive enough to not already know what was causing it. She was 37 years old, an age which would have been considered high risk for a pregnancy even when there were hospitals available in every town.  

Tonight she was wandering around the streets aimlessly, trying to know what to do. It was too far in really, to stop it safely. She had considered it when she had first realized what had happened, when the morning sickness started. But to be honest, she wasn't sure she could. Even though she was scared, both for herself and the child, she already felt protective of it.  So she was making her peace with the fact that this could well be the thing that ended her life.  She wiped away tears as she thought bitterly that Negan had possibly found a way to kill her after all. 

There was a commotion at the gate, and she hurried to see what was happening. Daryl had been out on a scavenging trip and had arrived home with a deer and two bags of canned goods and other non perishables. It was like manna from heaven at a time when the community had been cutting back to preserve its food stores. 

Daryl smiled at Lacey when he saw her, moving quickly to greet her. 

"Got you something." He said, reaching in to his pocket and producing a pack of MnM's. "They were under a counter out the sun and everything. Should still be decent." He tried to act like it was no big deal, but at that moment it meant more to Lacey than just about anything else anyone had ever done for her. She surprised Daryl, and herself when she stood on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck. She had been with them for 7 weeks now and each day she became more grateful for the people here - and more afraid of losing them. Especially Daryl.  

"Alright, alright." He replied awkwardly, patting Lacey on the back at first; when she didn't let go however, he wrapped his arms around her as well. He completely enveloped her and she lingered there in his arms for every second she could get out of him.

"You ok?" He finally asked, pulling back to examine her face and seeing that her eyes were puffy. "Whats wrong?" He looked as if he hoped the problem was someone whose ass he could kick.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little emotional tonight." She said. Other than when she first came here, exhausted and hunted by a madman, he hadn't seen an emotional side to Lacey. She had a good head on her shoulders and she could work more than most of the men around here. He had discovered that her brothers had taught her a great deal about hunting and fishing and she knew how to identify useful plants and mushrooms in the are surrounding Alexandria. They had spent many afternoons together gathering ingredients for medicinal teas and wild asparagus, leeks and best of all morel mushrooms; a share of these she had fried and served to him proudly. They were something she had been foraging and eating every spring since she was young - and they were worth the effort. They were a rare decadence in this modern world.

She was tough and resourceful, and in their wanderings had shown herself to be capable of taking walkers down without any help from him at all.  He had certainly not seen the sensitive side of her. So if she didn't mind hard work or fear walkers (or saviors on the lookout still), what on earth would make her cry?

"Walk with me?" She suggested, and Daryl nodded his agreement, falling into step with her. "If you knew you were dying, what would you want to do before that? I mean, is there something that you would regret not having done, when the time came?" She asked, her hand brushing Daryl's as the walked. 

"Did something happen with the saviors while I was gone?" Daryl asked gruffly.

"No. Answer my question." She urged.

"I don't know. Maybe." He seemed to be considering it. "What's the point?"

"I have something I would regret not having done." Lacey told him, and this time when his knuckles brushed her hand, she slipped her fingers into the calloused palm of his hand and held it gently. He stiffened briefly, but then his fingers relaxed around her hand and held it.

He didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything at all. When they reached Carol's house, they stopped in front of it, but he didn't let go of her hand. She smiled down at their interlocked hands and then back up at Daryl, who was shifting awkwardly, not knowing where he should be looking or what to do next. 

Lacey leaned her face up close, and then closer still but didn't quite touch his lips. He was perfectly still for several agonizing moments, but with each breath of his, she could tell he was breathing faster, deeper;  finally he worked up the courage to close the gap and let his lips meet hers.

It was not a deep, sensual kiss - he barely opened his lips - but that made it no less passionate. It was, perhaps because it was so simple, so slow, that its heat was so intense. It was intimate, lingering. 

When he drew back slightly, Lacey made a small noise of disappointment, her eyes fluttering open. Daryl was looking at their feet shyly.

"I have to tell you something." Lacey said, her voice catching in her throat. "And I'm scared to tell you, but I have to." 

He scowled down at her in concern but remained silent as ever. 

"I should have told you this before, and I'm not going to be able to hide it much longer. And the truth is, it terrifies me… Daryl, I'm pregnant. I knew before Simon threw me to the wolves." Daryl blinked in shock, unaccustomed to feeling so many emotions at once. "And I know how dangerous it is, that I may die when the time comes.  I needed to… to tell you how I felt about you. I just wanted you to know how I feel, that I adore you. I feel at home when we are together." 

More silence.

"I don't blame you, if you don't want anything to do with me I understand."

"Shut up." He told her, leaning down, one of his big hands slipping up into her hair as he kissed her again. And then again. She melted against him. If she hadn't put her arms around his neck, she might've fallen down.  Her chest was pressed to his and one of his hands slid around behind her to slide under her ass and lift her up with one arm until her feet were off the ground and he didn't have to lean over.

"About time." They heard Carol say as she breezed past them to go home.

Daryl pulled back and lowered Lacey back down to her feet. 

"I should go. I uh, just…" He was back to being shy, most distant. But he smiled at Lacey, stayed close even when they weren't quite touching anymore. "You're not going to die, it's going to be ok." 

"You can't promise that. All I want is more of you in the meantime." She told him, one hand against his chest. He breathed out heavily, and she knew he felt it all too, the need and the desire, and the tender feelings, which Lacey did not dare put a name to. He rested his forehead against hers. 

"Yeah." He said simply. But it was all he needed to say. 

#original female character #negan smith #the walking dead fanfiction

[dracoslittleangel]

The Dark Mark (d.m.) (requested)

Warning: I haven't re-read it so there might be some mistakes.

Y/N'S POV

I stared at the blue sky, the chirping of birds and the voice of the moving water in the black lake calming me down. My head resting on my boyfriend-well-secret boyfriend's stomach, his one arm around me, the other tangled in my hair.

I sighed in content. This is all I have ever wanted, to be in the arms of the love of my life- Draco Malfoy. He is my home. I feel safe with him.

It was our sixth year at hogwarts. Among all the chaos, we both didn't get much time to spend with one another, considering we were secretly dating.

No one knew about us, not even my bestfriends- Harry, Hermione and Ron. And I don't plan on telling them anytime soon, knowing they'll not approve of my relationship with Draco. And none of Draco's friends knew either, considering I am a muggleborn. Contrary to popular belief, Draco doesn't hate muggleborns, Infact, he becomes quite interested when it comes to muggle things, although he'd never admit it ,otherwise , his 'bad boy' image would be ruined.

My thoughts were interrupted by him shifting underneath me. "Draco", I whined. "Stop moving!" He just ignored me and continued moving. I got up to see why he was moving so much to see him removing his jacket. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion as to why he was doing so. He looked up at me and smiled. "Its getting colder darling, wouldn't want you to catch cold, now would I?", he smiled warmly at me. "How did I get so lucky to have you?", I smiled fondly at him and crawled upto him to lay on top of him. I wrapped my hands around his torso and rested my head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat and closed my eyes.

I felt him put his jacket on my shoulders and then he wrapped his arms around me. It's been 3 years of us dating and he hasn't changed one bit. I still remember the day vividly.

-flashback- I was walking down the corridor to the great hall for lunch when I heard my name being called. "Ms. Y/L/N" "Professor Snape?" "Since you are one of the brightest students in my class,I want you to help Mr. Malfoy in completing his work." I wanted to deny, but I knew I couldn't because Malfoy is his favourite student. "Yes professor." Great! Now I have to do his homework. He'll probably annoy me to the point where I'd rather smash my head into a wall. And now I have to skip lunch too..Ugh. Although I may or may not have a tiny crush on him,but I know he'd never like me back. I mean I am a muggleborn-or in his language- a mudblood.

-time skip- "Listen here Malfoy, I am just here to help you only because Professor Snape asked me to and I don't want to come on his bad side.", I said while rolling my eyes. I was sitting in the hospital wing on the chair beside his bed. Honestly, I don't think he is even hurting by the way he is annoying me. "No need to lie to me Y/L/N. I know you came here to check up on me because you just can't resist me..I mean who could?" And there it was. The annoyingly attractive smirk was back.

"You are unbelieveable", I groaned.

"You are in denial Y/L/N. I know you like me." "So what if I do?", I blurted out without thinking. Shit. My hands clasped over my mouth and my eyes became the size of a saucer. His eyes were the same size as mine and he had a taint of pink on his cheeks. *Wait what? He was blushing?*

"I-I sh-should go.", I stood up and was about to turn around when a cold hand yanked me back and I was pushed flushed onto a chest. Draco's.

I was practically lying on top of him and our lips were barely a centimeter apart. "I like you too.", he whispered. And with that he connected his lips to mine in a loving yet passionate kiss. -flashback over-

I smiled at the memory and hugged Draco tighter. "What are you smiling at, love?", he asked, looking down at me. "Nothing, just remembered our first kiss. Do you remember?" "Of course I do, the best day of my life!", he chuckled. I looked up and into his eyes. "I love you, Draco." "I love you more, darling.", he kissed the top of my head.

-time skip- DRACO'S POV I was listening to Pansy ranting about- well I wasn't listening, when a familiar owl came flying in and dropped a letter in front of me. All eyes turned to me-probably because it was too early for mail. I mean we have been here for not even an entire month. Ignoring the stares, I opened the letter and ofcourse it was from my father.

Dear Draco, I want you to come back to the manor next weekend for the meeting. Sincerely Lucius Malfoy.

WHAT? I told him I didn't want to be a death eater. I am not a monster. Yet, he still arranged the meeting. God, I hate him. He can't control me. I am not going to the so-called meeting. He surely can't force me to come when I am here at Hogwarts. My frustration must have showed by my face because when I looked up, I met Y/N's concerned eyes. 'What's wrong?', she mouthed, to which I replied with a simple 'Nothing'. She just nodded although she didn't seem convinced.

3RD PERSON POV Back at the manor, when Draco didn't show up for the meeting, Lucius was furious to say the least. He didn't understand what was keeping his son from obeying him, his father, someone he has never said 'no' to before. There has to be something that is keeping him from fulfilling his duties...or rather someone.

He eventually got to know that Draco's been rather cozy with a girl. And not just any girl, but a mudblood. When Lucius got the news, he was fuming with anger. How could his son, a Malfoy, date a mudblood? So he did what he decided was best. Use that mudblood.

He owled Draco to meet him at the manor the next weekend, saying that he needed to talk to him about something important. Although Draco didn't want to go, he still decided to go because he didn't want to face the wrath of his father after disobeying him twice.

Meanwhile, Lucius asked Bellatrix to keep an eye on Y/N Y/L/N and bring her to the manor any chance she gets. When she saw her alone at hogsmeade, that too with Potter, Weasely and Granger, she didn't waste any time in using the Petrification spell and confiscating their wands.

DRACO'S POV Why does father want me there again? I don't want to go, but I have to. He said there's something really important. But what?

3RD PERSON POV The next weekend, Draco apparated to the Malfoy Manor. When he stepped into the living room, he saw something he would never have expected to see at his place. Y/N. But she was chained?

"Y/N?" "D-Draco?", her voice just above a whisper.

Draco was about to speak, but was cut off by someone clasping his hands from behind him. He looked back to see his father tying his hands with a spell.

"Father!"

"Now now Draco, just shut up and let me have fun with this mudblood",cackled a feminine high-pitched voice- Bellatrix.

Draco widened his eyes, knowing exactly what her fun meant. "No!", he yelled. "Don't you dare touch her!", he warned.

Bellatrix cackled once more. "My dear nephew is in love." "Love makes a person weak.", Lucius scoffed from behind him.

Draco didn't have time to respond as Bella had already made her way to Y/N and used the Cruciatus curse on her.

Her body felt like it was being stabbed by a hundred-thousand knives at once. Her legs gave up and she dropped to her knees. Her screams echoed through the entire room.

Draco watched his girl, the person who he loved the most on this planet, scream and whimper in pain and he couldn't help the tears forming in the eyes.

"STOP! STOP!", he yelled but to no avail. Bellatrix simply ignored his pleas to stop torturing the girl he loved with all his heart.

"I'll do anything! Just please stop!" Now this caught the attention of both Bellatrix and Lucius. "Tell me boy, are you ready to serve The Dark Lord?", Lucius smirked at his success.

Y/N's eyes widened as she heard this. When she met Draco's pleading eyes, she shook her head, as if to tell him not to do so.

"Will it mean you would spare Y/N?", he asked his father, eyes still on Y/N. "Yes, we would, only if you promise to serve the Lord with all your sincerity."

Draco took a deep breath and nodded his head. "No! Don't do this Draco, please", Y/N pleaded. "I am sorry.", he looked down, unable to meet her eyes. He then turned to his father. "Yes, I'd do whatever you want me to." Lucius smirked victoriously, thinking his plan worked. He then untied Draco's hands, ready to arrange a meeting with you-know-who.

But as soon as Draco's hands got freed, he took out his wand and pointed it at his father. "Did you really think I'd serve you-know-who? I'd never do that! Petrificus Totalus!" He then turned to Bellatrix who had her wand pointed at the girl.

"Put your wand down Draco, otherwise she'll suffer the consequences!"

Draco looked at her, then at Y/N. He slowly started to bend down to put his wand on the floor. And when Bellatrix changed her aim from Y/N to Draco, he immediately picked his wand up. "Expelliarmus!", her wand came flying into Draco's hand.

"Stupefy!", she went flying backwards and into the wall, lying unconscious.

Draco immediately rushed to Y/N's side who was lying on the floor. "Y/N, love, are you alright? I am so so sorry, this is all my fault.", he sobbed.

"This is not your fault, Draco, please don't apologize.", she croaked and wiped his tears with her thumb.

"We have to save Harry, Hermione and Ron, they are in the dungeons, I assume", she whispered.

"What? They are here?", he asked, eyebrows furrowed with confusion. "Yes, they were with me when Bellatrix found us, please save them."

He nodded and picked her up bridal style, considering she couldn't even speak properly and made his way down to the dungeons.

When he reached the cells, he saw them sitting on the floor with concern all over their faces.

When they heard the voice of footsteps, they all looked up to find Malfoy, with Y/N in his arms, unconscious.

"What happened to her?!", Hermione exclaimed.

Draco didn't notice that she had fainted. When he saw, he widened his eyes. "I'll tell you all later, first let's get out of here." "Alohamora", he unlocked the bars. They all rushed out and grabbed their wands from him and apparated back to Hogwarts.

-time skip- Y/N'S POV I woke up to the sound of distinct voices. "When will she wake up?", a feminine voice asked, who sounded like Hermione. "She is okay, she should be up soon", replied another feminine voice. I opened my eyes and blinked a couple times to adjust to the white light. I looked down to see my hand was being held by another pale hand. I looked up to see Draco. When he met my eyes, a grin slowly etched on his face. "Y/N, you are up!", he exclaimed. "Draco?" "Yes! I am here, how are you feeling?" "I am feeling fine except for the fact that I can't really move any part of my body.", I replied truthfully. "I am so so sorry Y/N! I never meant for any of this to happen.", he cried. "Its alright Draco. It's not your fault."

I was so focused on him that I didn't realise 3 other people standing there with shocked look on their faces.

"Y/N?", said Ron. "Oh uh..", I looked at Draco with raised eyebrows, as if asking him to tell them about our relationship , and he nodded, as if to say its okay. I looked back at the three of them. "Uh..m-me and Draco a-are dating.", I stuttered out. All of their eyes widened. "You what?", all three exclaimed at the same time. "How long?", asked Harry. "Th-three years." They gasped. "Why-why didn't you tell us Y/N?" I looked down not wanting to meet their eyes. Just as I was about to answer, Draco interjected. "Because we feared this is exactly how you'd react.", he spat. "Look Potter, I know we have not been on good terms-" Harry scoffed. But Draco continued,"- but I used to bully you all only because I wanted to make my father proud. I didn't mean any of this. My father forces me to do things, and this is exactly why I was mean to all of you. But I love Y/N very much, and I'd do anything to protect her from harm, even if it means I am in harm." I squeezed Draco's hand and gave him a loving smile, which he returned. "And I love Draco very much too", I said.

The trio were a bit skeptical at first, but when they saw how happy you were around Draco, they eventually forgave him and tried to be as civil as possible with him, which then turned into a good friendship. A/N:This is the probably the longest I have ever written...

#draco #draco fanfiction #draco imagine #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy x you #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco malfoy #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy blurb #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x you #dracotok #luciusmalfoy #bellatrix #bellatrixlestrange #narcissamalfoy #harrypotter #hermione #hermione granger #ronweasely #voldemort #darkmark

[annemagus]

natural love potion; h.p.

Pairing: harry potter x fem!Gryffindor!reader Timeline: HBP / 6th year Warning(s): cussing, mentions of dying and blood, submission, reader pining Word Count: 5k

A/N: Hey there! This is my first ever post. I would love to hear your thoughts!

Harry and Y/N are friends. Just friends. Much like Harry and Hermione, there is nothing out of it that is going on between them. Not until that day in potions.

—

“Are you done with my potion?“

“You mean, will Professor Slughorn call you by your name? Then yes, Wallenby.“

It was the first week of another year at Hogwarts. New faces, new prefects and even new professors are introduced, as usual. Professor Slughorn is the newest addition to the faculty and to have a good first impression with the students, he's given the 6th years Amortentia, the love potion, as their first Potions homework.

They were supposed to put it in their selected food or drink and it had to be unnoticeable. Why would the Potions Teacher assign this kind of homework to the students? No one knows. But this certainly gave him a good first impression to a large number of students.

“Blimey Harry, we've been rotten at Potions ever since. Now look at you, it's as if you've taken private lessons with Snape the whole summer. You’re the bloody Potions Master in our year now!“

The two Gryffindors are making their way out of their dorm room towards the Common Room with Harry holding a small basket of cookies to bring it in the dungeons where the potions classroom is at. Y/N is patiently waiting for them near the Portrait as several students greet her along the way.

"G'morning."

“Where’s ‘Mione?“ Ron exclaimed without even acknowledging the girl’s presence.

“Uhm, shouldn't you know that, Mr Prefect?"

The male prefect then realized the time and his supposed agenda to escort first years to the Great Hall. Harry scolded him of how much he and others would kill to be in his position and yet he’s never given it any importance.

“Godric, have mercy on me. Hermione’s gonna kill me!” the redhead exclaimed after getting a playful slap behind his head from the Chosen One before rushing away from the two.

“Much worse than that, she’s gonna make him expelled,“ she jokes with a mouthful of cookie from the small basket Harry was holding. "Mhm, you have no idea how badly I've been craving cookies since last week! This is good, Har. Where’d ya buy it?“ 

Harry, before realizing what happens, freezes. He was too busy lecturing his best friend that he didn't notice a hand sneaking into his potion, the cookie. His hand slowly snakes its way to the contents of the basket that has supposedly four cookies but now has only three. “Y/N!“

"What?" she chuckles dreamily.

"We need to get you to the Hospital Wing."

“What for? You put poison in it, didn't you?“ Y/N continues to chuckle dreamily.

Harry stares at his friend as if she was some peculiar experiment. “How are you feeling, Y/N?“

“I feel like . . .“ she sighs dramatically as she gazes far away, mesmerized. The effects are plainly obvious. “I feel like falling.“

“Falling?“ Harry's stomach twisted. This is what makes Potions classes bothersome, the uncertainty of knowing whether the potion you brew is right or wrong. You can only know it if you’re a professional or by testing the potion done, which in Harry’s case, Y/N would do for him.

"I'm falling in love, Harry. I'm falling in love with you."

And boy was he really the Potions Master.

The raven-haired boy's cheeks got warm the second those words escaped his friend's lips. The two are only friends and have never acted more than that. Seeing this new side of Y/N for Harry is too foreign for him.

Sure, Harry has seen her date two boys from different houses, but being the recipient of her romantic antics has never crossed his path. His last romantical relationship, if you can call it that, was last year with the senior Ravenclaw Cho Chang. Even that didn't go well. He went on a single date with her just to make her believe he's in love with both Hermione and Y/N. Ever since then, he never thought about committing to any romantic relationship.

"Harry . . ." Y/N's hand reached out for his arm, grazing down slowly towards his hand with too much delicacy. Their hands are now intertwined. The both of them have never reached this close proximity, having learned now that one of his best friend's palms are soft but slightly calloused in the fingertips from playing muggle instruments and Harry fears that when Ron finds out about this act, he will tease them nonstop which isn't fair for Y/N. ". . . I know this may sound all too sudden, but, I have loved you ever since."

He didn't respond. He tries to block all of this sudden affection out of his mind knowing these are all artificial.

"Don't you love me back?"

"Of course I do. You're my best frie-"

If his cheeks were warm, now, his ears as well are on fire. Y/N has thrown herself to the flustered boy, locking his neck and face in her arms, squealing in happiness like a kid. Holding hands is a new thing for The Boy Who Lived but hugging him as if to let the world know he's someone's is another thing.

Very few people have ever hugged him in all the history of his 16 years of existence, knowing the story of his parents and the lack thereof. His godfather, Mrs Weasley and Hermione are the only ones — as far as he knows — written in a tiny piece of parchment of the list of people who have hugged him. Yet none of them could compare to this hug as those mentioned acted parental towards him.

Students are now starting to pass them out of the Common Room towards the Great Hall. One of those shouted, "get a room!" They're still standing just beside the Portrait Hole where Ron has left them both to deal with his own romance.

"Uhm, Y/N, why don't we go get ourselves some breakfast first, yes?"

"Yes! Let's tell 'Mione and Ron that we're finally together!"

—

Breakfast was agonizingly slow, to Harry's opinion. Y/N can't stop giggling beside him and feeding him like an infant earning them attention from the others.

"Oi, Potter! Didn't know that you two are . . ."" Seamus makes a kissing face earning a few cackles and sniggers from their other friends at the table.

The boy just ignored them with an eye roll, amusing the two friends in front of him.

"Leave them be, Harry. Besides, when was the time Y/N acted on you this way, huh?" They all diverted their gaze to the dazed girl. Eyebrows knitted in concentration as she feeds him but at the same time doing her best to get as close to Harry as the universe could possibly give her the opportunity to. They've never seen her this in love and affectionate. And the two thought that Harry just deserves it even just for a while. "Never, right? You better make it worthwhile."

"Thanks, Ron. Really helpful." He answered with his famous eye-roll.

"Always here for you, mate "

"I just don't get why we couldn't tell Professor Slughorn immediately. I mean, I'm sure he has something for Y/N. Or Madam Pomfrey-"

"Yeah? In which I'm sure is also your easiest ticket to detention."

The boy grunts some incoherent words of profanities under his breath. Not only was he getting embarrassed by the fact that one of his close friends is acting like his girlfriend but dragging Y/N along with his catastrophic life is just too unfair on her side. She didn't ask for this. Plus, detention in the second week of a new school year doesn't sound good.

The Brightest Witch reminded them not to take Potions lightly. It may sound like not the most helpful subject in a wizarding war, but can get you expelled once meddled with students. In short, what happened to Y/N is very illegal. You should not use or test your Potions project with another student. Plus, Filch will go nuts if he gets the news that a student gave another student a love potion.

“Well, at least, now we know that your Potion worked well.”

"Come on, we're going to be late for DADA."

On their way towards Snape's classroom — a fact Harry still can't accept — Y/N's fingers are interlaced with Harry's as they walk. She's given him her bag as that's what boyfriend and girlfriends do. In the classroom, Y/N didn't sit in her usual spot but literally kicked Ron out of his chair to sit beside Harry, the boy just mouths a sorry.

Her usual focus from the class was now inclined to Harry himself alone the whole class. Out of all their major subjects, Harry is known to have the Defence Against the Dark Arts class on top of it all. Y/N knows it, having been a member of Dumbledore's Army. Everybody knows it. But with Snape being the teacher and Y/N constantly caressing his left cheek every time Snape's back faces them, the said subject is somehow kicked out of its place on top.

"Y/N, do you mind?" He tried but obviously failed to ask her to stop in the nicest way he can utter. "I mean, it'll be really hard for us to pass DADA, and eventually NEWTs, if we're both distracted." His voice is hoarse and soft, one way or another. Afraid to hurt the girl beside him and cause a scene. Letting his former Potions Professor know his mischief doing is the least of his priorities for the day. Merlin, at least, let this day finish without anyone knowing.

"Harry, my love, it's not my fault your eyes are distracting. They're the most beautiful green not even the most beautiful forest in the world could compare to."

Once again, his cheeks and ears are on fire for the 37th time this morning. Most of the reasons are from the nonstop compliments he's receiving from the girl. It didn't take much energy from him to not believe all of it. He grew up with the Dursleys, they didn't fail to engrave in his mind his place and worth.

"Care to share in class what you're chattering about, Mr Potter?" The elder snarled in the middle of his discussion, letters extending out of his tongue as per usual. He finally notices, as always, Harry making another noise across the room.

"Nothing, Professor."

The said Professor narrowed his eyes to the duo. He knows, of course, he knows, he was a bloody Potions Professor ever since he accepted the job offered to him at Hogwarts.

"I'm saying this once and only once," he positioned himself in front of the two, now leaning to the Gryffindor boy to let just the two hear what he'll say. "Fix this, or you will face more vile punishment than getting expelled."

The class was dismissed with 50 points taken from Gryffindor. Harry is used to it, even his other fellow Gryffindors weren't surprised anymore. As a matter of fact, as long as he is breathing, infinite points will be deducted from their house.

As they were heading out of the classroom, Hermione gently peels the zonked out Y/N away from her grasp on the poor boy. "Harry, you can't let the other teachers know about this."

"Well, what do you suggest then?"

The next words that came out of her lips are like caffeine to the sleepy heads of Harry and Ron. They could not believe she could say such things. Even Y/N would have been gobsmacked if she just wasn't in a daze.

"Don't go to classes?" Her tone was laced with uncertainty. But she couldn't think of any other option, she'd rather let them take a day off classes than have Harry nor Y/N expelled.

"Can I come with them?"

— 

Harry Potter's Monday was bizarrely different from his usual ones. He has spent the whole day with Y/N trailing behind him like a baby duck. His hand used to be sweaty the whole time with her's but now, it felt more comforting than awkward interlocked with his.

The castle was quiet, with all the students in class, it gave him privacy and away from the prying eyes of malicious gossipers. They couldn’t get inside the Common Room as some 7th years are hanging there knowing they have fewer classes and more time for reviewing for their NEWTs, library; some teachers roam around there, Hagrid’s Hut; knowing Hagrid, as much as they love the guy, couldn’t keep his mouth shut from secrets.

As much as he dreads going to class all the time, it was strange to see the castle this quiet without Ron’s company.

He was throwing pebbles by the lake to pass time as Y/N sat on the ground behind him, making them their Charms essay homework.

The boy studies her features. Y/N wasn’t so bad. Her hair’s tidier than Hermione’s. She was actually beautiful. He would’ve taken her to the Yule Ball when Ravenclaw Cho Chang declined his invitation and if it wasn’t for that Slytherin bloke asking her out instantly - her first ex-boyfriend who Y/N dated a few months back. Her hair tucked in her ear as she focuses on what to write next in her essay. Harry feels bad for making her write his homework but the girl insisted. Guess you’d do anything for the people you love.

He looks back on the lake. Thinking of the people who have loved him did everything they could to protect him, even dying. First, his parents, then Sirius even Jesus, what did he do to deserve this fate. What good will it be if the people he loves are gone?

Two arms wrapped around his chest from behind startled him.

“You’re tense.” Y/N’s hand unwrapped his bloodied hand. He didn’t even notice he was gripping the stone tightly, his scarlet blood staining the object.

“It’s nothing.“ He cranes his neck to stare at the girl on his right shoulder. Her eyes are full of concern and love. Love that he created out of a goddamn potion for a goddamn homework. A love that could never be compared to the love of his parents and Sirius. A goddamn false love. His brows knitted before jumping out of Y/N’s embrace with panic.

“I think we can go inside now.“

The rest of the day consists of Harry, trying to ignore all of Y/N’s pining over him. He tries to remember that all of these are not her fault, there’s nothing to get mad at her about. Running away from her is also impossible as she committed herself to cling to Harry’s arm as if her life depends on it.

Finally, classes are over and dinner is approaching. The two are reunited with Hermione and Ron in a secluded area of a random hallway, as Harry was hoping to get less attention from other students as they got earlier at breakfast.

“How are the love birds?“ Ron teases, seeing their hands locked still.

“Oh, it was majestic, Ron! Harry took me to the Black Lake even though today was a school day. I feel a little rebellious, to be honest.“

“Good hiding spot.“ Hermione commented.

“I’m not going to the Great Hall for dinner. So you two can bring Y/N instead.“

“No! I’m coming with you!“

“Y/N aren’t you tired of my company yet?“

“I could never! I love you.“

Ron snickered pretty loudly in front of them, even Hermione couldn’t suppress a smile.

“Aren't you two just adorable?” the redhead continues to tease.

“Don’t worry Harry, Ron and I will bring you supper instead.“

The day has finally ended and the effects of the Amortentia, as what the favourite book of Harry says, wears off after 24 hours. It was past Y/N’s get up time but fortunately for them, she took her time sleeping exactly until the effects wore off. 

She moans with pain as she tries to sit up from her bed.

"How are you feeling?"

"'Mione?"

"It's me."

"I feel like a full construction site is inside my head . . . and I feel awful. Like, waking up on the wrong side of the wrong bed."

"Do you feel anything . . . unusual? Like, something or particularly someone you want to obsess about?"

The girl looks at her strangely and then at the time. "Bloody heck Hermione, aren't we late for breakfast?"

Clearly, Y/N remembers none from the incident.

Meanwhile, at the Great Hall, Harry is tapping his leg out of anxiousness. If his Amortentia was too strong and didn’t ease away, he might as well pack his belongings and leave Hogwarts voluntarily. His precious book from the Half-Blood Prince has mentioned the cure for a love potion but the ingredients are only held by the Potions Teacher. The horrors there will be once he mentions this to a teacher is unimaginable, he’d rather spend the day with a dazed Y/N than get lectures from a teacher.

“Don’t worry about your girlfriend, mate,“ Ron’s words are muffled from a chicken leg in between his teeth from across him. “They’re here.“

Across the Hall, the two girls are striding towards their place.

“Why are you at my seat?”

“Uhhh . . .” stammering, Ron glances at Harry for help. They were normally sitting beside each other but after the incident yesterday, they thought Y/N would love to sit next to the Golden Boy. “I-I don’t know either,“ just sliding to his side to make room for the two.

“How are you feeling, Y/N?“ Harry asks the dishevelled looking girl in front of him. Both Hermione and Ron - who are sitting side by side - are listening to the exchange intently.

“Honestly, I feel bad. Like, subconsciously, I know this day would be so bad,” Y/N sighs depressingly. “Why, are you alright?“

“Yeah,” deep inside the boy, a strong wave of relief passed him. His body was cold from the nerves, but knowing his Amortentia had finally worn off, those nerves were showered off of him with a warm relieving feeling. “Actually, I’ve never been better.”

“Well, at least one of us has woken up on the right side of the bed.“ she chuckles half-heartedly. Harry felt guilty hastily after hearing those words. It’s all your fault dipshit.

As Y/N is back to sitting beside Hermione, she is also back to her normal self. Talking to her alone about their Charms homework that she never remembers making and some other random stuff that the boys could not give a care about. She was back to not paying any attention to the Golden Boy at the front who she absentmindedly know is staring at her.

Morning supper was finished and the quartet is now in Snape’s classroom. Y/N was back to sitting beside the cute Hufflepuff guy she's been crushing on and Harry is back stuck with his blabbering best friend.

As Snape discusses some more non-verbal spells and the techniques, he takes time to stop rounding the class in front of Y/N who was again, back to her normal self, her focus never leaving the Teacher. He stares at her, looking past her eyes and seeing that his student’s consciousness is back before trudging towards Harry and Ron.

“10 points from Gryffindor,” he grunted under his breath, which actually is the first compliment Harry has ever received from the elder man.

Classes ended and dinner came, Harry finds himself staring at the girl in front of him. She was talking to Seamus, one of their good friends, chatting and laughing with him as if he'd said the funniest joke ever told. The food on his plate has long been forgotten.

"Quit staring, you creep."

Harry looks back at his best friend beside him with a mixture of confusion. "Don't tell me you think I wouldn't notice."

What the boy was talking about, he has no idea.

"When will you tell Y/N?" Again, he replied with a look. "About the incident, of course."

Harry wasn't planning on ending his friendship with Y/N because of his carelessness. He could've just sealed the cookies in a jar or box so no one could see it, but no. He had to display it for the world to see. Hermione disagrees with his plan, of course.

The three of them found the perfect time to be alone in the common room, students are still chatting and scampering about their day anywhere but their dorms. So they decided then, to tell Y/N what happened.

"So that's why I felt bad. Isn't that the after-effects of Amortentia?"

Three heads nodded in front of her, studying her features.

"Well, I'm glad it was you, Harry. Could you imagine if it was Ron?" Y/N visibly grimacing at the thought. "But to be honest, it was all my fault. I should've asked you first before eating it. Thank you for being honest with me, Harry."

It wasn’t really what the boy was expecting as a response. He was anticipating more anger or embarrassment from the girl.

Their usual cycle is back. Y/N was completely Y/N Y/L/N again it's as if nothing happened. The four of them never mentioned the incident again and Harry catches himself being disturbed with that. It made him feel some things like shouldn’t Y/N be shy around me? Or shouldn’t Ron tease us still about what happened? Or shouldn’t Hermione lecture us and watch over us more to not repeat the incident again? These thoughts run through his head as every day passes.

He also catches himself getting extra angrier at the Hufflepuff boy, Y/N’s crushing about, every time they have a Quidditch tournament. Especially that time when she barges in the Common Room pretty loudly yelling at everyone that she got a date with the cute Hufflepuff.

“Y/N can you help me find a good present for Mrs Weasley’s birthday on our next Hogsmeade trip?” He tried, one Friday morning, to get in between them.

“Of course, Harry! But, can we do it after my date?“

“Right . . . you have a date.” Sounding a tad bit more disappointed than he really is.

“But,” Y/N responded with the syllable dragging along “I could tell him to go on the next visit instead and spend the day with my best friend?”

“Oh no, I don’t want you to cancel your date because of me.”

“Harry, I could even cancel my Charms class, Godric knows how much I love that class but, that’s beside the point. What I’m saying is that I’m here for you. Also, we’ve barely hung out anymore ever since you’ve been the, what does Ron call it, ah, the Potions master!”

“Not you too!” he playfully grunted all too loudly earning a laugh from the girl.

"Seriously, I would love to come with you.”

He never thought he'd say this but he misses Y/N. His Y/N, who cannot keep her hands to herself but Harry’s.

And before he could stop himself from getting deeper into his thoughts, he was left astounded. To his knowledge, all feelings he has for his best friend are only platonic but here he is, couldn't stop himself from the thoughts of Y/N. The way she used to have her focus engraved to the boy alone and him alone. It gives him so much angst every time Y/N hasn't given him enough attention for the day.

If this stupid Amortentia incident leads him into any feelings he'd be in deep shit.

Because Harry should not be bothered to get distracted. Quidditch season is starting, he's got new people relying upon his captainship. Besides Y/N has her eyes on someone else and he cannot risk losing their friendship knowing his feelings aren't being reciprocated.

Well there it is, he's already in deep shit.

So when their first game arrived playing against Slytherin, he is rather surprised to see Ron winning them a high rank.

He knows he deserved the glory that's why as the captain of the team, he let them have the post quidditch game party in their common room. The parties were usually lead by the twins, but knowing they're already gone, he didn't know that his fellow housemates apprehended their festivities.

"Weasley! Weasley!"

They watch as Ron finally gets recognition for his own efforts alone. Y/N was nowhere to be found, probably with her new boyfriend, and Hermione was shattered when Lavender Brown smothered Ron with kisses.

The two are in a random staircase trying to comfort one another. He doesn't know who needs more comforting, Hermione or him. Knowing he already lost someone who's never his also shattered his heart.

"How does it feel, Harry? When you see Y/N with another guy?"

To say that he's dumbfounded was an understatement. He couldn't be that careless with his so-called feelings now, is he?

"I know. I see the way you look at her. You two are my best friend."

He dreaded this conversation happening. The Golden Boy has never intended on developing feelings toward his friend. Unlike Hermione and Ron, the two have been having this romantical tension ever since their first year. His feelings toward Y/N is purely conjured by an incident they never dared to speak about. The boy believes that these stupid feelings of him will only break their friendship and Harry's not risking that.

"Why don't you try something?" Hermione is always the one they go to whenever they need help and whenever they're clueless about the next step. But this, this advice of hers is definitely one Harry's scared to listen to. "Hufflepuff boy is still not making any moves yet. You know, you're valid to think about yourself too. You've always thought about the others, you always prioritize us before yourself. You deserve to live too, Harry."

So Harry did listen.

In the Great Hall, he confided himself to sit beside Y/N all the time. Hermione doesn't mind the changes in their seating arrangement as she gets to sit with Ron anyway, so candidly speaking, it is a win-win situation for everybody.

He starts small, playfully feeding her (the way she used to), talking and listening to her talk about life in general. When they were walking towards their class, he would always offer to carry her bag, in which he never really waits for her response. Intermittently inviting her to do homework by the lake alone together. And every time they have Hogsmeade visits, he would buy her sweets at Honeydukes.

And Y/N notices. It didn't really take her long before she sees. She has convinced Hermione one night to tell her of her doings that day she was under Amortentia. Harry's new behaviour towards her has perfectly mirrored the story Hermione has told her.

Little did Harry know, the feelings eventually have been mutuals.

So when the Golden Boy was informed of this Christmas Party Professor Slughorn has assembled, he didn't hesitate to ask Y/N in an instant, too afraid that Yule Ball night might happen again. He was, for once, too grateful to be part of the Slug Club as Hufflepuff Boy was not part of it. Now that just minimizes his crush problem.

He has seen her in a ball gown back in their fourth year for their Yule Ball. But he never got the chance to be the one standing beside her throughout the night but now, tonight, he feels like the luckiest man.

Standing on the top of the stairway from the girls' dorm room was his best friend he never had feelings before until this year. She wasn't wearing the grandest of gown there is but this simple dress enhanced her features. She was walking down the stairs with a smile that gave a huge impact on how she looks. She was literally glowing.

"Hi."

"Y/N," he breathed, completely in awe of what feelings do to people.

He always sees Y/N every day, talks to her and laughs with her. She sees her perfectly like what normal best friends do. But after developing feelings for her, his mind is persuaded that she was the most beautiful person that walked on the planet.

Harry is infatuated. He felt as if he was under some spell. Is this how Y/N sees him, all those times she was under the love potion?

But Harry was sure, a hundred per cent, that this is not artificial feelings. He really likes her.

So after a very successful Christmas date, with Hermione being their third wheel, the two were back from being hip to hip. Harry was glad his Y/N is back. He's been wearing the pride of not having to use a love potion to get her back beside him. Because this time, Harry did not create an artificial love to make the girl he likes, like him back. This time, he did it right. He just needed to wait for the right time and place to ask her.

Christmas has passed and Harry's time is also running fast. Of course, his special assignment with Dumbledore has never left his mind. He would do the subtle talks with Professor Slughorn here and there. He felt as if he's running out of ideas to get what he needed and to make things worse, the Potions Master is already growing annoyed with him.

"Still no luck with Slughorn, then, I take it?"

"Luck . . . That's it. All I need's a bit of luck."

That evening, Harry was away the whole time. He missed dinner but Y/N waited on him in the common room. She knows that the Felix Felicis potion has no limits. Whatever the user's deepest desires, it will help give it to them. Y/N knows that at this very moment, Harry succeeded. She makes sure that there will be someone waiting on him to celebrate it with him.

Harry came back from the Headmaster's office bearing a report about Slughorn's memory with Tom Riddle. There, in the Gryffindor Common Room, he sees her sleeping in one of the tables far back. It was not hard to see her, with the time obviously past bedtime, she was all alone.

With the liquid luck still pumping in his veins, he rushed to her. Kneeling in front of her, the Golden Boy then gently wakes the girl up.

"Harry?"

"Y/N . . . I think I'm falling"

"Falling? What falling? Are you experiencing vertigo right now? Anxiety?"

"Worse than those."

And Y/N, moving on from her sleeping state, was now fully aware of where the conversation was going. She holds his inviting hand. "What is it, Harry?"

"Love . . . I'm falling in love."

Y/N smiles at how adorable the boy is looking right now. His hair is ever so dishevelled and his lips as red as cherry. He was the most oblivious boy she knows. Has only dated one yet here he is, kneeling in front of her. Confessing.

She knows that Felix is helping him with some luck because knowing the sober Harry, he would never be bold enough to say such things. Little did Harry know, he need not some luck as she was all too blessed to have him in her life. Because to Y/N's honest opinion, in this room, she was the luckiest.

"I'm falling in love with you, Y/N."

—

(Shamefully) tagging these amazing ppl: @harryjamespotterxreader​ @harrypotterxx​ @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts

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[shedobewritingalittle]

Me and My Husband

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: The reader warns herself of her relationship with Steve Rogers.

Rating: R

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Infidelity, miscarriage, depression, suicidal thoughts

No one will tell you what to do when you find out your husband is cheating on you. No one tells you that whether you stay or you leave him, everything you do will be judged ruthlessly. So you just pretend. You will pretend like its not happening, like you haven't seen the text messages on his phone or heard the whispers when you visit the Compound upstate. You'll ignore them the best you can, pray that somehow you got this all wrong. But you can read minds, so you get it straight from him that he's cheating on you.

You'll keep your head held high, ignoring the issue as much as possible. You act like nothing is amiss, even though everyone that you work it-or have worked with-knows the truth. They all know your husband was having an affair and they wonder if you know. You can see their questions as they appear in their heads. You plaster a smile on your face, wishing to be in your bed so you just cry. You'll get bombarded with their thoughts and it'll make you feel like you're drowning.

You'll never bring it up to your husband, but he knows that you know. You've promised that you'd never read his mind, but he knows that you have. You know every gritty little detail of the affair and he knows. He is reminded of it every time he sees you lying in the bed you once shared, your back to him. He's reminded of what he did every time the two of you visit the Compound upstate, when everyone gives her looks of sympathy while he gets glares that bore into his skin. Every time your eyes meet his, he is reminded that he didn't care about the sanctity of marriage and because of that you'll never look at him the same way ever again.

You'll spend moments wondering what you did wrong. Did you not love him enough? Not give him enough attention? Instead of being mad at your husband, you're mad at yourself. Wanting to think about what you could have done instead of thinking that your husband just didn't love you. It'll be easier to blame yourself and you'll live with this bundle of hatred for yourself.

A betrayal by the people closest to you. Your husband and your best friend. Your husband and your maid of honor. The two people you loved most in the world sleeping together and losing your trust, losing you. You wanted it to be anyone but her, anyone else. You prayed and begged that somehow his thoughts betrayed him and he didn't sleep with her, but you know deep down that he did. Her face is all over his memories. She won't meet your eyes and you've stopped taking her calls.  You will want to hurt her, kill her. Want to make her brains spool out from her head because you're so God damned hurt. She isn't friend anymore. Friends don't betray you. Friends don't sleep with your husband. Friends don't make a mockery of your marriage. Friends don't-

Cry.

You'll find yourself crying a lot. It's an endless stream of tears that leave your head pounding and your eyes aching. It's the type of crying that makes your throat and entire chest hurt, the types of crying that leaves you feeling hollow. You must be dehydrated with how much you're crying. Your husband will come home to see your eyes red and watery. He used to be so concerned when he saw you post-crying, but that was before your marriage imploded. He knows he is the reason why you're crying, so he doesn't bother asking anymore. And that only makes you cry even more.

A night of emotions being too high and apologies that he doesn't mean result will in a positive pregnancy test and you're stuck in marriage with three people. You, your husband, and the other woman. It's too cramped and you feel like you can't breathe. It's suffocating.

When you get pregnant, people will whisper it's a save the marriage baby. None of their smiles will meet their eyes and their pity will be written all over their faces. They congratulate you nonetheless, calling you a fool once your back is turned. Having a baby with a man that betrayed her with her best friend.

They'll ask you how he feels about it. Not how you feel because you're not allowed to have feelings anymore. You gave up your feelings when you chose to ignore his infidelity. They'll ask you how he reacted, if he is happy. You don't want to tell them that he just nodded when you told him, his face not giving away way what he felt about the news. You don't to tell them at he left immediately to go see her as soon as you got into the shower.

She will be in the room when you tell the remaining members of your team, both holograms and in person. Hidden in plain sight, she sits among the people you call your friends-at least the ones that remain. His eyes meet hers when the news falls from your lips and you can hear her whisper in her mind "What are we going to do?". As your friends and teammates walk up to congratulate the two of you, she takes her time getting up, takes her time to walk over to you. She looks you in the eye and says that the two of you are going to be great parents. Three of us in this marriage and I can't breathe.

You'll wonder every day as your stomach grows if the man who you married hates you. He's stuck in this house that he had built, with the family he had wanted, in loveless marriage because he messed up and you found out. It doesn't stop him from leaving at night, showering immediately when he comes back. They both know you aren't stupid. You know what they are doing, but your heart can't break anymore. You'll tell yourself that he'll stop when the baby comes, but you know that's a lie, but it's a lie you keep repeating to yourself in hopes of it coming true.

Sometimes, you will dive into his mind when he is asleep next to you. He'll never know that you've snuck inside, but you get to see every moment of their relationship. It's sadistic and all it does is make you more upset, but you can't help yourself. You need to know how far it goes, if they love each other or if it's just a physical thing. She fills up more of his memories than you do. You're being replaced and there isn't a thing you can do about it. You can only watch it happen.

And no one will tell you what to do when you start to bleed. It will seems to pour endlessly from you, staining the cream colored sheets. Your husband won't be beside you, he's off with her. So instead, through the pain, you drive yourself to the hospital, blood covering the seat. Tears streaming down your face as you force yourself to walk into the emergency room, hand on your stomach. You'll lean on the receptionist's desk and calmly tell her "I think I am losing my baby." as blood drips down your legs. No one tells you who to call. Should you interrupt your husband's time with his mistress? Make him hate you more? No. Instead, you call your friend, the one who has always been like a brother to you. The one who lives a few hours away with his wife and their newborn daughter. You'll wait for him, sitting alone in a hospital room as nurses run tests on you.

No one will tellyou how you are supposed to react when they come in and tell you that your baby-a boy, you learn-is gone. Your bump is still there, so how can he be gone? He. A sweet baby boy that you'll never get to meet. When Tony arrives, you can't get the words out. Saying it aloud will mean it's true. But he knows. He knows as soon as he walks through the door that the baby is gone. He doesn't bring it up and instead sits next to you, where your husband should be, and holds your hand. Your hand in his while you other hand cradles your bump. Your husband will return home the next morning to find your car gone with blood smeared everywhere. For the first time in months, he'll call your phone, wondering what was going on.

Tony will be the one who answers the phone when you're in surgery, the doctors wanting to make sure the contents of your womb are completely out. He'll be the one who tells your husband that you lost your baby. Tony will be the one to tell him to stop calling. Before your friend hangs up, Tony will tell your husband that he caused this, that his infidelity direct caused your miscarriage.

In that time, you'll finally lose it. It's like you're finally reacting to everything. You'll be drowning in anger, in sadness, in sorrow. How you managed this far you'll never understand. Tony will bar your husband and his mistress from coming anywhere close to your hospital room. Your life is falling apart at the seams and you're losing control of everything. You're unable to sleep, unable to eat. The last thing you've had was your baby and now that he's gone-Well you don't have anything left. You just want all of the pain to end and you'll tell Tony that. He'll will be worried and he'll ask for you to be put into a seventy-two hour hold. While this is happening, while your brain is being picked in order to see if you're going to harm yourself, Steve will be throwing away the bloody bed and getting rid of the ruined sheets and blankets.

Tony will decide that you can't go back to your home you share with Steve, but you also can't stay with him. He has a baby and you just lost yours. It's not right for you to stay there. So instead he takes you to Asgard's new home. You'll be thousands of miles away from the home you had wanted to raise a family in, away from your husband. Thor and Valkyrie will welcome you with open arms, helping you transition into your new lifestyle as you grieve. Tony will handle the divorce proceedings and Steve will get a new bed. Your things will be packed up and sent to you and you'll be completely removed from your husband.

And when Bruce and Rocket come knocking on your door three years later, begging for your help, you'll be forced to make a choice. And you'll sit there in your tiny cottage next to Thor's, thinking about what to do. And then you'll agree to help because you want to bring back half of the universe. You love saving people and it doesn't matter if you feel uncomfortable, you are going to help bring people back.

So when that beautiful man with the baby blue eyes comes up to you after a mission, a million dollar smile stretched across his nervous face and asks you to go on a date, heed this warning. He'll be amazing at first, but it'll go down hill so fast. Know that you were never his first choice, you were the only available one.

If you don't heed the first warning and you do go on a date with the blonde man, don't marry him. The marriage is a sham, something you'll do a year after half of the universe turns into dust. You'll be excited and it'll seem like he's really happy, but he isn't. He just wants purpose again and he won't get it from the marriage. He'll emotionally leave you and you'll try to stick it out.

Being with Steve Rogers will only end in pain, so save yourself the heartbreak and stay away.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #captain america x reader #chris evans x reader

[five-rivers]

Home

The building that housed Fentonworks had never been normal, no matter what neighbors and real estate agents might profess.

Things had happened there. Deaths. Wild twists of fate and shocking coincidences. People who lived there heard noises, saw things, felt things. Experienced sicknesses with no cause. Were cured of sicknesses without cause. Survived things that should have killed them.

It was a thin spot between worlds. Reality was a rippling membrane, frayed enough for things to shine through.

The construction of the neighborhood itself had been… strange. It happened much faster than it should have, as if there was a whole extra shift of workers on the project.

The townhouse that would one day become Fentonworks had stood out even in that mystery. Extra rooms, a basement deep enough to cause a nasty fight with regulators, features not approved by the architect.

It was a wonder they hadn’t hit any of the water lines or the sewage systems. A wonder- and an impossibility. So, the matter was ignored and dropped.

Then the next owners expanded that impossible basement, building another, secret basement and putting things in the walls- They were criminals, of course. It was expected for them to do illegal things. (Although exactly what they had done was… oddly uncertain.)

(Drugs, perhaps.)

Then, the lunatics. Then, the tiny cult that collapsed in on itself. Then the empty years, dozens of transient ghosts trying and failing to pass through, and the ghost hunters. So many ghost hunters, none of them particularly successful.

Then, the Fentons.

Then, little Jazz.

Then, little Danny.

Danny with wide eyes that saw too much.

And all the horrors that the Fentons could dream up, from living hotdogs to weapons that burned like stars and doors to places that should not be visited.

And this was Danny Fenton’s home.

.

The Manson estate was an odd case, even for Amity Park. Save for the basement, the entire building they lived in had been transplanted, brick and beam, from Germany.

Rich people were bizarre.

Even the Mansons couldn’t explain it. The man who had done it hadn’t been a Manson. The Mansons, who were relatively new money, all things considered, had purchased it from one of the man’s children. Anything to boost their prestige.

It was fancy, and it was old, a gothic and statuesque mansion worthy of its name. Still, it wasn’t quite fancy or old enough to merit the kind of expenditure moving it had to take.

Hence the rumors, squelched by the Mansons, that the place was haunted.

It wasn’t.

The rumors, however, were enough to get one Samantha Manson interested in the occult. Especially given how hard she saw her parents working to hide the rumors from her.

No. The mansion wasn’t haunted. For all it’s oddities and quirks – which only multiplied as the Mansons added more and more features to it – the building itself was mundane.

(The land it was built on might have been another story.)

And this was Sam Manson’s home.

.

The Foleys didn’t want to know what Tucker got up to in the attic, but liked to think that, with that one exception, their home was a nice one. It was on a nice street, in a nice neighborhood, just far enough away from Fentonworks to keep both sightings of the Ghost Assault Vehicle and resultant property damage and property taxes to a minimum. Within walking distance of the high school, a supermarket, and a park.

They kept the fridge and pantry stocked. Their food might not have always been healthy – red meat was an element of almost every meal – but it was always available and filling. They made an effort for the dietary restrictions of Tucker’s friends of course.

All the rooms were kept clean and neat. Even Tucker’s, by way of bribes. Everything was organized, everything had its place. Except, perhaps, for the stray shoe or piece of schoolwork.

But that attic.

It really hadn’t been anything, before Tucker asked if he could move his computer stuff up there. Just a storage space, one too difficult for either Angela or Maurice to climb up there often. They didn’t consider themselves old, but they couldn’t call themselves young either. Not with a son Tucker’s age.

Once Tucker had realized the attic was there, he had been fascinated. And, well, once he was old enough for them to not worry about him falling off the ladder, they let him go up.

Some days, it seemed, he didn’t come down.

Better than his faintly disturbing Ancient Egypt phase, where he kept bringing pictures of mummified corpses to the table. Or, worse, the werewolf phase.

And this was Tucker Foley’s home.

.

Amity Park had claimed the distinction of ‘most haunted town in America’ long before the Fentons opened their portal. In fact, that was the reason the Fentons had set up shop there, in the first place.

No haunted town was complete without at least one haunted house. Amity Park had several. Not to mention a haunted hospital, a selection of haunted schools, a haunted museum, a haunted pool, a haunted crosswalk, a haunted mall, a haunted football field… The list went on, essentially ad nauseum.

Of course, that list mostly consisted of places that became haunted after the Fentons built their portal. But even before then, some places offered their dubious charms to tourists.

Mostly gullible ones. More than half of the claims of hauntings before the portal opened were fraudulent in their entirety. These places quickly went broke and got abandoned when real ghosts started showing up.

One of these was the ominously named Raven House, which stood in the hills on the west edge of town.

The story the tourists of years gone by had been told was that a widower had lived out here, all by himself and that one day, he stopped coming to town, or paying his bills, or even getting his mail. When the mailbox at the end of the long driveway was full, the mailman decided to go check on the widower. What he found was a flock of ravens and a skeleton, entirely picked clean of flesh.

No such death had occurred there, nor in any part of Amity. No such person had ever lived in the house, either. The last owners, before the company that decided to market the house as haunted, were a couple with two children.

It wasn’t until months after the portal started up that it became haunted in truth.

.

“This place isn’t haunted,” said Danny, panning his flashlight over cobwebbed corners on the ceiling. “I don’t think it ever was.”

“That’s what, strike five?” asked Sam.

Danny shrugged. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Four, actually,” said Tucker. “We counted the hospital as inconclusive, since we don’t know if anyone was there before Spectra.”

Danny nodded. “It’s weird, though, isn’t it? That no one lives here, I mean. It looks like a perfectly nice house.”

“Décor’s a bit… eh. Trying to hard to be haunted,” said Tucker, poking a raven decal on the wallpaper.

“I like it,” said Sam. “Needs cleaning, though.”

“Hey,” said Tucker, “you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking, are you? Because I’m pretty sure that’d be illegal.”

“It isn’t as if anyone else is using the place,” argued Sam. “It could be a great backup hideout, if we ever had to… you know.” She glanced at Danny. “Plus, we’d be doing them a favor, really, keeping things clean and lived in.”

“I think it’s an okay idea,” said Danny.

“Yeah, but you think lots of dumb things are good ideas. Like showing up at a party hosted by people who publicly humiliate you on a regular basis.”

Danny grumbled something about trauma responses that sounded like a direct quote from Jazz and something else about that incident being ages (aka weeks) ago. Then, he brightened.

“We could get one of the little ectoplasm generators to power everything,” he said. “Remember all that stuff we lifted from Skulker and Technus? We could actually use it. Study and test things without worrying about whether our parents will walk in. I mean, your attic is great, but still.”

“Plus, we can have actual lab safety protocols. No offense, Danny.”

“I am the one that half-died in a lab accident, so… None taken.”

Tucker rubbed his chin. “Alright. I suppose I can see the appeal… But if we have stuff that can trace back to us, we could get in serious trouble."

“We’ll be careful, then,” said Sam.

“Anything I take from Mom and Dad has plausible deniability. They’ll assume ghosts stole it.”

“We also need to clean if we’re being serious about this. And get a fridge. And figure out the pluming situation.”

“Fridge is on the list. We have to be careful about the outside, too. If this place is suddenly well maintained, people will notice.”

“Sure, but that isn’t something they’d call the cops over,” said Danny. “They’ll just assume new people are moving in. If anyone sees it at all. We’re pretty far away from anything. But pluming won’t be too hard. We just need to bring our own water. Like, toilets flush using physics. If you dump more water in, they’ll go, no electricity required.”

“How do you know that?”

“I can’t even tell you how many time Mom and Dad blew out all our breakers with stuff in the lab,” said Danny. “You pick up a few things.”

“Well,” said Tucker, swinging his flashlight over to examine a discolored spot on the ceiling. “Then… Home sweet home, I suppose.”

.

There was a house in the hills in the west hills of Amity Park.

And this was the home of two and a half humans and half a ghost.

#danny phantom #dannymay2021 #dannymay 2021 #dannymay #dannymay day 2: home

[wonlouvre]

pairing: doctor!wonwoo x lawyer!female oc

genre: modern royalty, arranged marriage, fluff 

word count: 2.2k

WARNINGS: none (pls tell me if there’s anything i missed!)

a/n: THEIR LOVE STORY CONTINUES AND YOU WILL FIND OUT ON MY NEXT POST! i will say this over and over again, THANK YOU WITH ALL MY HEART! 

epilogue | masterlist

The trial of your father was not something you have ever imagined you would experience nor witness in this lifetime. Despite having the option to not go, you still attended. You weren’t present at the court itself though. Instead you waited at the parking lot with Jeongyeon everyday from the first day up to the last day. The judge’s verdict was obvious and irrevocable. Your father’s ancestry, title and reputation didn’t matter in the eyes of justice. At some point, you couldn’t accept it still but eventually you knew that every wrong must be corrected.

You can say that the wounds from this inevitable downfall burned the most than the wounds inflicted by the enemy.  

Wonwoo was at your apartment when you arrived after the long hours of waiting. He just finished showering, drying his hair with a clean towel when he greeted you. After getting discharged from the hospital, he didn’t fail to visit your place and most times, he would stay the night. That’s why it’s natural and comforting to see him lounge around as if he has been living with you from the get go. 

He already knows how the trial went because it was everywhere. He catches you with his arms once your bag is dropped on the couch and the tears you have been holding back start to fall. It’s not easy to cry every second, every minute and every hour. It’s not easy to accept that your tears are not enough. Not enough to help your father without damaging everything else further. 

Your face was buried on the crook of your lover’s neck as you finally let it all out. He holds you there for a while before he moves the two of you to the couch and keeps you close by letting you take a seat on his lap.

You love your father so much but it is only right and only just to let this Kingdom punish him for the crimes he committed against the people he swore honesty and protection to. 

The exhaustion made you fall asleep and Wonwoo left you be until he had to wake you because he doesn’t want you to skip your meal. After munching on a few bites, he led you to the bathroom for a warm bath, sitting on the cold tiled floor as he took care of you. And in the late evening, he held you close as you retired from the pain of the day.

Wonwoo is a gift and he makes every single day a little better.

You and Wonwoo decided to tie the knot three years later than what was initially arranged. It just felt right at the time to postpone the wedding and do what should be done. The Prince can tell that your heart and mind was not set on marriage yet because of what was currently happening. He was the one who brought it up, suggesting a postponement if you needed the time to think and of course, to wait. He didn’t mind because he’s one hundred percent sure that he is yours and it wasn’t necessary to immediately hold a wedding to seal the deal.

Three years of waiting wasn’t the timeline you intentionally planned on but if one were to count, that’s how long the two of you endured. The plan to have a grand wedding was scrapped and essentially, you two were back to zero. The venue, decorations, menu and even the custom made wedding dress and tuxedo were either auctioned or donated. It was a unanimous decision among you, him, your mother and his parents. It was for the better and taking things slow in your relationship was much needed anyway. 

On the subject of parents, Wonwoo’s, for a period of time, were uneasy with your relationship. It was not because of you and what your father did. Their Majesties were wise enough to not hold anything against you and who you are. What made them uneasy was the people and their talking. If some were still loyal and supported and rooted for you, some were the exact opposite. The tabloids were cruel as well and you didn’t miss them displayed in every newsstand. They still gossiped about your father and even talked about the most irrelevant nonsense. Like come on, who cares about you wearing an orange jacket on a normal Sunday?

But the major stumbling block for them was your recommendation to abolish the Royal Family of your Kingdom. 

You have pondered about it for quite a while and when you have made your decision, you discussed it with the rest of your relatives. As the times have changed, reigning as the sole power of the kingdom didn’t appeal to your family anymore. Some of your father’s siblings and cousins have discussed this already even before your father himself inherited the throne. It just so happened that the then cabinet members strongly opposed the idea. However this time, things will be different for and with you. 

By right, you are the Queen of the Kingdom and it won’t be for much longer.

It was a long and exhausting process. You had to meet with the Cabinet and the policy making body of the Kingdom. For a whole year, you were lobbying and arguing with a lot of individuals who have their own greedy political agendas. However, for the same whole year, the people were supportive of your decision and goal. That pushed you forward and motivated you to not give up. It paid off because in the end, you stepped down as the last Queen to ever reign in your family and ultimately, the Kingdom. 

Countless aspiring public servants stole the spotlight the following year as the campaign season started. Some still encouraged you to hold a position to which you declined immediately. It was a tight competition because every candidate had the potential. The people were smarter and at the same time stronger. They knew who they wanted and needed to lead the Kingdom. No flowery words could ever sway them. 

Power to the people indeed.

You were present to the formulation and enactment of the new laws that will hopefully make the Kingdom and its citizens flourish without the presence of abuse of power and dishonesty. Once you finally signed the last piece of document as the Queen, the Kingdom is not yours anymore and you have never felt so free. 

During the (unintentional) three year wait, you and Wonwoo made the most out of your time as boyfriend and girlfriend, fiancé and fiancée. Well, the engagement ring wasn’t returned to you so you’re quite unsure about the status of the latter. You didn’t lose it though. Wonwoo admitted on one of your dates that it’s with him and that he’ll eventually give it back. 

Wonwoo stayed and continued working at the Royal Hospital meanwhile you decided to leave your current law firm and establish a new one to serve the public. It was a busy year of transition and you felt bad that you dragged Wonwoo into it. Even though he promised that he didn’t mind, you still can’t help but feel terrible that he’s carrying a whole lot of baggage that isn’t his. 

He will just shush you with a kiss on the lips whenever you bring it up and you hate how he makes it work. 

For most of the time, you were awfully busy, you had to bring work back to your apartment. Wonwoo would always complain with his forehead on your shoulder as you worked away on your desk. He would complain that it’s already late and you should be snuggled to him by then and you would just scratch the back of his neck to placate him. To which, he didn’t like. He didn’t stop until you shut down your laptop and let him pull you to bed. 

Wonwoo diligently went back and forth to his hometown and here. He could go back and work at his Kingdom, but not without you. He made it clear that he has every intention of marrying you, so until then, he’d stay by your side. You love every single bit of time you spent with him and you’re beyond grateful. Although there was one instance you had to take care of him because he got sick, that didn’t make him stop. 

The two of you went to a lot of dates despite the busy and overlapping schedules. Most of your dates consisted of long drives far from the city. You frequent farms, beachsides and small hidden cafes with little to none customers. It was great and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

It’s Wonwoo, after all. 

Eventually, you had to visit his parents and introduce yourself in a whole new and different perspective. It was nerve wracking, but their Majesties never changed. In fact, almost everyone at their Kingdom still treated and served you like royalty to which you vehemently refused. Nonetheless, their Majesties still gave their utmost blessing and support to your relationship and if anything, they hope to see you get married soon. 

Wonwoo requested to meet your father at some point. At first, you were confused as to why but when he told you that he wanted to do things right, you couldn’t say no. 

You had to admit, you were embarrassed. However, you swallowed your pride because it’s pointless to keep concealing yourself from Wonwoo. He has accepted and loved you in every way and every form already, all you have to do is bare yourself to him. 

The meeting and conversation you shared with your father was short-lived because of the time limit. In spite of that, it was good to see him and you’re happy Wonwoo took the initiative to visit him. It has already been two years since he got imprisoned and even though you couldn’t visit him every day, your father never held it against you. He was ecstatic to see Wonwoo and the news of your wedding still on, made him burst into a joyful laughter. 

It still pained you to see him on the other side of the glass. It still pained you to not hug or touch his hand at least. But you keep yourself together and remember the purpose as to why your father had to go through this. 

Your father never failed to tell you his regrets and apologies, but most importantly, he never failed to tell you how proud he is and that he loves you very much so. 

You will never become a queen anymore, but Wonwoo vowed that you will be of his heart. He found it cringey himself, but he told you he had to say it in front of everyone present at your wedding. You just laughed it off because you know he’s not saying it out of spite. 

The wedding happened at his mother’s garden with only close family and friends invited. Your father couldn’t make it even if he wanted to, but it was alright because you promised you’ll send lots of pictures afterwards. Some of your relatives made it, Jeongyeon and Seungkwan were also there. Meanwhile, all of Wonwoo’s relatives made it and of course his best friends Soonyoung, Jihoon and Jun (whom you met along the way) were also present. 

It was a short ceremony that didn’t last more than three hours. It started late in the morning and ended early in the afternoon. The two of you, hand in hand and all smiles, did your best to mingle with every guest and thank them for their time and attendance after finally sealing everything with a long kiss and of course, legal documents.

There was no afterparty held after lunch was served, you and Wonwoo wanting the rest of the day to yourselves. A traditional program sounded lovely, but the two of you wanted to be simple. 

The wedding was three years long in the making and in between, it almost didn’t happen. The beginning was vague because it started off as an arranged union. You didn’t know him, he didn’t know you. The middle was everything you wanted, full of love and security. You were so sure and so ready, just waiting for the dress and everything was set. However before the happy ending, shortcomings and bad deeds needed to be resolved and by doing so, one of you almost had to sacrifice the middle that you were ready to have forever. 

But when Wonwoo buried his face in the space between your jaw and neck and his arms found its way around your waist, you realized that everything that had to happen was worth it. In the middle of the garden where the two of you stood alone, swaying from side to side, you realized and accepted that it was all worth it. 

Your fingers ran through the hairs of your husband’s hair and he hummed at the sensation. You smiled at the vibration and continued holding him. If you were to tell one of the sentiments that you and Wonwoo share when you’re together, it’s that you wish for everything to never end. And now that you’re married, it is not far-fetched. 

“I love you, Wonwoo,” you whispered and you’re not crying anymore. 

Wonwoo pulls away slightly to look at your face and when he sees your smile, he knows that he loves you too.

a/n 2: all my love, the drabble/oneshot series masterlist is up! 🧡

#seventeen #wonwoo #svt #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen scenario #wonwoo scenario #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo fanfic #seventeen imagines #wonwoo imagines #seventeen imagine #wonwoo imagine #seventeen fluff #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo seventeen #seventeen wonwoo #fic: ifliys

[bonjour-rainycity]

The Grandfather Clock Chimes | 1921

Pairing: Carlisle/Esme

Rating: G

Word count: 1977

Warnings: None

Summary: The first time Carlisle and Esme are alone together.

A/n Thanks to @jessicanjpa for the idea to do a solo Carlisle/Esme fic! I’m obsessed with them at the moment, so writing the first hopeful, awkward, thrilling moment when they’re on their own made my heart all kinds of happy! 

In the entry way, the tall grandfather clock noted the hour.

Esme counted five chimes.

Carlisle was rarely home this early.

His arrival through the grand front door had startled Esme, who had become quite used to their little routine, but did not seem to shock the bronze-haired boy composing at the piano. No, Edward had merely smiled in that shy, all-knowing way of his, and welcomed the doctor home before announcing his intent to visit town. Esme had watched him go, shocked into physical silence, but inside, her mind raced, shouting panicked thoughts at the boy.

She had never been alone with the doctor, and had no idea what to say to him.

Stifling a grin, Edward had patted Esme’s hand in a half-hearted attempt to soothe before he took his leave, off to town to ‘collect supplies,’ whatever that was supposed to mean.

And that’s how Esme and Carlisle came to find themselves alone in an unnecessarily large house, sitting unnecessarily far apart in the unnecessarily spacious living room.

Esme sat straighter in her chair, if that was even possible.

On the sofa across from her, Carlisle mirrored her action.

The seconds ticked by.

“I was reminded of you while at work today,” Carlisle spoke suddenly. His voice disturbed the heavy silence between them, and Esme blinked to buy time while she found her voice.

“Oh?”

Though her response was minimal, Carlisle felt encouraged — the brief, thrilling moment when she spoke to him was much better than the silence.

“Yes,” he nodded eagerly, leaning forward in his seat in a futile attempt to close the space of the entire room that lay between them. “A woman visited her brother in our burn ward, and she had the same length hair as you do, with the same bounce to her curls. For just a split second, I thought it was you — but of course, it was ridiculous to believe it could be.” To illustrate this, he shook his head slightly, admonishing himself. “Regrettably, you are confined to the house and our land for the time being, so obviously, you could not have been visiting me at the hospital. Not to think I would presume that, were you to leave the house, you would visit me at the hospital,” he was quick to correct, glancing at her nervously. “No, you could be there for any number of reasons, I’m sure. Though,” his eyes darted to the wall just to her left, avoiding her slowly yellowing eyes, “those reasons are escaping my mind, at present.”

Despite nerves that made her wonder if she still possessed the ability to pass out, Esme smiled. Carlisle always seemed so proper, so put together — nothing ever flustered him.

Nothing, it seemed, until today.

Without Edward there, Esme could afford to be honest with herself in this brief moment of mental privacy. And, since she was being honest with herself, she could acknowledge that she quite liked seeing the doctor flustered.

In her silence, Carlisle continued to babble. “Once I got a better look at the woman, it became doubly clear she could not have been you. Her hair, while a shade of brown, was nothing like the unique caramel color of yours….” He trailed off once again, his gaze falling from the wall to a spot by Esme’s foot.

Esme pursed her lips against a smile. His nervousness had an unexpected effect on her — it seemed to embolden her, almost, to push past the uncertainty of her own. She attempted a slight change in topic. “How was your time at work?”

His perfectly golden eyes snapped to hers, a measure of relief in them. “Quite pleasant, to be honest. All easy fixes today. That is not often the case.”

“Is that why you were allowed to come home early,” Esme prodded, unable to fight the smile that tugged on her lips. She continued to be bold, watching his expression carefully as she spoke. “I admit, I found it a pleasant surprise to have you home before your usual time.”

Hope — beautiful, lighthearted, blossoming hope — lightened Carlisle’s eyes. He leaned forward, now in danger of falling off the sofa. “You did?”

“Y-yes,” she stuttered, caught off guard by his exuberance. She realized how her careless words could have been interpreted, and hurried to cover her tracks. For all his happiness at present, it was clear he did not share her feelings — best not to scare him off. “It is good for Edward to see you often — though he is older than me in our immortal years, he is still a boy at heart. He needs your attention, your guidance.”

Carlisle’s face sobered, though he quickly softened the lines into a small, understanding smile. “You are right, of course. I should spend more time with him. I am grateful for your insight.”

Esme’s useless heart could have melted right then. Always so polite and considerate, her doctor was, and it never failed to chip away at her carefully constructed reservations.

They fell into silence again, and Esme bit the inside of her cheek — a human gesture carried into this new life. Her hands laid over each other on her knee, touching the skirt of the light blue dress she wore — a gift from the man who sat at her opposite. Her fingers interlaced and tightened as she raised her eyes to his once more, trying to provoke her courage into gathering again.

“What did you and Edward do for fun before I arrived?”

Carlisle’s eyebrows raised, and so did Esme’s. She hadn’t planned on asking that.

Carlisle’s lips stretched into a nostalgic smile, and Esme decided right then that it was the most beautiful expression one could make.

“We spent a lot of time exploring the areas we lived in — visiting shops on cloudy days, hiking in the vast forests, even swimming in the lake sometimes.”

Then, his expression clouded, and Esme nearly had to sit on her hands to keep herself from rushing over and caressing his cheek, wanting to offer him every ounce of comfort she could.

“But I must admit,” Carlisle continued, sounding sad in a way that broke Esme’s heart, “those days were few and far between. Edward is…an introspective soul,” he decided on his phrasing finally, sounding like he chose the words with great care. “There are many days when he prefers to stay at home and lament over a choice he had no chance to make for himself.”

Esme had noticed this. Despite all the good times she and Edward had together, there was many an occasion when he would insist that they were all damned. Him and herself she could believe with little argument, but Carlisle? His damnation was a more difficult point for her to be convinced of — he seemed too pure, too wonderful, too good to be stopped at the gates of Heaven.

“I think he requires a push sometimes,” Esme reasoned, having gained great insight into Edward during these past few months of her new life. “He is intelligent, he needs something to stimulate his mind and take away from those dark thoughts. Perhaps visits to museums or—or an opportunity to play his compositions publicly, like at one of those galas you’re always being invited to.” The ideas came to her suddenly, tumbling out of some vault in her mind she wasn’t aware she possessed. “Maybe even school would be good for him.”

At this, the corners of Carlisle’s lips turned down, and Esme sucked in a breath — had she said something wrong?

But Carlisle shook his head, speaking gently. “It would not be right to leave you home by yourself, not while your control is…still in its early stages of success,” he finished delicately, always hesitant to insult even the most deserving being.

“Right,” Esme agreed, looking at her lap as she thought. A new idea sparked in her brain, and her eyes snapped to the doctor’s with enthusiasm. “I could teach him!”

Once again, Carlisle’s eyebrows raised, this time in clear surprise. “Is—is that something of interest for you?”

“Oh, yes,” Esme nodded, excitement overtaking her. “Though I don’t remember much of my career, I know I was a teacher in my human life — I would love the opportunity to rekindle that passion.”

Carlisle grinned, and Esme had to amend her earlier thought — this was the most beautiful expression one could make.

“I think that is a fantastic idea,” he enthused, hands settling on his knees. “I will go into town tomorrow morning and order all the necessary supplies. Are there any subjects of interest you yourself would like to expand upon? I would be happy to pick up the materials.”

Esme tilted her head as she thought on this. There was something, a curiosity that had always played at the back of her mind.

“Architecture,” she answered, then surprised herself when a playful smile overtook her lips. “If I learned about it, maybe I would stand a chance restoring this crumbling mansion of yours.”

Carlisle dipped his head in a teasingly bashful acknowledgement and promised to find her the proper books and supplies.

Esme leaned back in her chair, mildly embarrassed to find how far she had extended herself in Carlisle’s direction. “Perhaps you could be a guest lecturer of sorts — when your schedule allows, of course.”

Carlisle blessed her with her favorite grin once more, and Esme basked in it. He tilted his head as if explaining some inside joke. “Esme, we do not sleep. I am sure I could find time to help with your project.”

If she thought his smile would do her in, it was nothing compared to hearing him say her name! How lovely it sounded coming from his lips, resonating in the gentle baritone of his voice. She wished she could pretend she did not hear it, to ask him to repeat himself, and have the chance of hearing him say it again. Then, perhaps, she could return by speaking his own name — his familiar name, as he had used hers — something she rarely allowed herself to do.

She opened her mouth to say something, anything, when the front door opened and Edward’s scent filled the home.

The breath she would have used to speak tumbled from her mouth in a sigh. So soon…

But the clocked chimed again — six tolls, this time — and Esme was startled to discover that she and Carlisle had been together in that living room for over an hour.

How had the time stretched in an eternity, yet been over in mere minutes? What was this man’s presence doing to her?

Esme’s eyes sought Carlisle’s once more and she felt a pleasant warmth upon realizing that his eyes were searching hers with an equal fervor. They stayed like that for an immeasurable moment, locked in a gaze of unexpected intensity.

She hoped, down to the deepest parts of her useless heart, that there would be more moments like this, where it was just the two of them. Yes, part of her was relieved at being freed from this constant state of being unsure, but another part regretted Edward’s rapid return.

Part of her would have been perfectly content to sit in the hesitant, hopeful, awkward, thrilling silence with Carlisle for an eternity.

She didn’t quite know what to make of that.

Knowing their time for this evening was done, Esme and Carlisle stood and met the boy in the foyer, welcoming him home. While they inspected and praised the packages he brought — items for the house and gifts for the two he was quickly starting to consider as his parents — Carlisle and Esme avoided each other’s eyes.

Only Edward could know what the other was thinking.

And, out of respect for them both, he would not tell them that they were thinking exactly the same thing.

A/n Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs make my day! You can find my masterlist here :) 

#twilight #twilight renaissance #twilight fic #carlisle #carlisle cullen #esme #esme cullen #esme anne platt cullen #carlisle x esme #carlesme #carlisle/esme #esme x carlisle #esme/carlisle #carlesme fic #twilight canon gapfiller #canon compliant #carlesme gapfiller #carlesme canon #twilight fanfic #twilight fanfiction #carlesme fanfic #carlesme fanfiction

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Coming Down (Ethan x MC)

Summary: They break up. Dassit

A/N: I’ve been tired of this imposter Ethan, and the back of forth nature of his romance route for the entirety of book 3, so I wrote this.

Warnings: None

Title Inspo

~v~

Naomi’s fingernails tap impatiently against her leg as the shrill ring of her cell phone rings at her ear. It rings 5 long times before she’s sent to voicemail.

“Hello, you’ve reached Dr. Ethan Ramsey. I’m sorry for not answering your phone call, but leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you.”

“Ethan, it’s me...again. I haven’t heard from you in,” lifting her wrist, Naomi checks the time on her watch, “wow, in over 24 hours. I’ve been calling and calling, to no avail, and you just aren’t responding.”

The news of Ethan getting hit with a malpractice lawsuit hit her like a freight train. As soon as things started to feel good again, as soon as the diagnostics team started to find its rhythm with two new physicians, this torpedoes any chance of normalcy she could ever experience.

“If you could give me a call back and let me hear the sound of your voice, that’d be great. Bye.”

There’s a lot more that she wants to say, but she’s been given a limited window of time so Naomi hangs up.

Switching tactics, Naomi opens up her messages, and scrolls to her thread with Ethan.

Naomi: Hi

Naomi: Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in a while.

Naomi: Can you at least reply, telling me to leave you alone?

Naomi: At this point, I’d settle for at least knowing if you’re alive.

She waits a few minutes, and when she gets no response, she shoves her phone into the pocket of her white coat. Anxiousness and worry pools in the pit of her stomach, and the only thing she can think about is Ethan’s well being. And this situation doesn’t bode well because Naomi is still in the middle of her shift.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of quiet chatter as the door to the diagnostics team’s office opens and in walks Tobias and Harper. Their conversation is cut short once they notice the youngest member of the team.

“Hi, Naomi,” Tobias greets, an easygoing smile adorning his face. “What’s up?”

She wishes she could feel as casual as he looks, because every part of her body is twisted inside out and turned upside down.

“Have either of you talked to Ethan today?” Naomi asks, skipping the pleasantries.

“I spoke to him yesterday just to gauge how he was handling the malpractice suit,” Tobias answers. “Obviously, the conversation didn’t last long because he and I rarely interact outside of these four walls, but he seems…” he trails off when he notices Naomi’s face fall. “What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

Any other time, Naomi would be ecstatic to hear about Tobias extending an olive branch, and Ethan actually accepting the support, but today isn’t that day. She’s been trying to get in touch with him all day with no success, but he answers a phone call from his sworn enemy?

“I haven’t heard from Ethan today, so I’m at least glad to know he’s breathing,” Naomi says, her voice tight.

Too caught up in her own pity party, Naomi misses the way Tobias and Harper exchange worried glances. The team has been through enough the past few months, the last thing they need is romantic friction between Ethan and Naomi seeping into the office.

“Maybe he’s turned his phone off since then?” Tobias suggests. “Times like this can force you into an introspective mood, and he’s probably going technology free.”

Naomi chuckles humorlessly. She appreciates Tobias’s effort to satiate her foul mood, but she can’t think of a single excuse short of death that could justify Ethan’s behavior.

She stands, dusting off her coat and straightening it out. “Thanks. I’m going to get some lab work done on our patient, page me if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

Without another word, Naomi exits the office.

Working helps slightly. For an hour or so, Naomi is successful in turning off her brain and focusing diligently on work. She manages to not think about Ethan at all.

Until she hears his name brought up in conversation. She’s strolling towards the nurse's station when she sees Sarah and another nurse, Ronnie huddled in a corner.

“Sounds like Dr. Ramsey’s not as perfect as everyone thinks, huh?”

“Screwing up a standard tracheotomy that way? Frankly, I’m just surprised it took the patient this long to sue!”

Naomi slows her steps before she stops walking all together. The nurses are so engrossed in their conversation, they don’t even notice her.

“I heard from Marlene that the patient wouldn’t have even needed a trach if they hadn’t dosed her wrong in the first place,” Sarah adds in an excited whisper.

“Seriously? That’s next level…”

Her first instinct is to stop this, to tell them to stop talking, the urge to protect Ethan still as strong as it’s always been.

But she stops herself from doing that. Because why should she? Why should she put forth the effort to defend the honor and reputation of a man that doesn’t even have the decency to answer her phone calls?

And just like that, she’s plunged back into her flurry of conflicting emotions: worry, fear, annoyance, and most of all, anger. The emotions war inside her, all fighting for dominance, and she hasn’t felt like this since her intern year when he left to go to South America without any sort of goodbye or correspondence.

That wasn’t a good period in her life. Naomi can still feel the cold grip of anxiety that plagued her chest when she came into work one day and he was nowhere to be seen. She heard through a LVN that he left before confirming it with Naveen. She can still taste the saltiness of the tears she shed after leaving her 5th unanswered voicemail. Experiencing such a high of beating her ethics trial and getting picked for the diagnostic team,  and the low of him leaving in that short amount of time left her spiraling and isolated, and it took entirely too much time clawing herself out of that dark place.

Turning on her heel, Naomi speed walks in the other direction, her original plan long forgotten. The hospital passes her by in a blur as her legs move, the rest of her body and brain moving on autopilot.

She doesn’t stop moving until she’s in front of the residents’ lounge. She spots Aurora, Bryce, and Sienna sitting at a table.

“Naomi, come join us!” Sienna exclaims. “We’re going to make cappuccinos with this fancy machine.”

“I’ll have to take a raincheck on that,” Naomi says. She turns to Bryce. “Can I borrow your car keys please?”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just have a couple errands to run and I don’t feel like taking the train. I’ll bring it back with a full tank of gas and everything.”

“I’m not gonna nitpick you about gas, Omi.” Bryce’s warm gaze sweeps across Naomi’s face, studying her. If he notices anything wrong with her, which he probably does because Bryce is a lot more perceptive than he gives himself credit for, he thankfully doesn’t mention it. He reaches into the pocket of his mint green scrub pants and pulls out his keys. He tosses the keys to Naomi with a wink, and she catches them mid air.

“I keep a shovel in the trunk in case you need to bury a body.”

Whether he realizes what is going on with her, or if he just cracked a joke to lighten the mood, Naomi is grateful either way.

~v~

Naomi spends an hour driving around Boston, people watching and attempting to collect her thoughts before she ends up in Back Bay at Ethan’s apartment complex. She didn’t want to go to his house in her previous state, guns blazing and emotions all over her place.

Even on the ride on the elevator up to his unit, her stomach is in knots and her heart beats faster than normal. She hasn’t been this nervous about seeing Ethan in a long time, and it dawns on her just how fucked this entire situation is. Why should she be nervous to talk to the man who claims to want to be with her?

Steeling her nerves, Naomi issues three sharp knocks to Ethan’s front door. Approximately 45 seconds pass before the door opens.

“Naomi!” Ethan’s eyes widen when he sees her standing there. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you going to let me in, or should we have this conversation in the hallway?” Naomi asks. Ethan steps aside, widening the door so Naomi can enter. “Thank you.”

The apartment is stale, like Ethan hasn’t opened the windows in a few days. He looks disheveled, the bags under his eyes are extremely pronounced like he hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

For lack of a better word, Ethan is a mess. And she wants nothing more than to just...wrap her arms around him and make everything better. But she doesn’t. She keeps her distance.

Ethan shuts the door before turning back to her. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No.”

“Well let’s sit down.”

“No, I think I’d rather stand because I don’t plan on being here long.”

The coldness stuns Ethan. Naomi almost seems indifferent towards him, something he’s never experienced before. It doesn’t go unnoticed that she didn’t bother greeting him warmly, no hug or kiss, no excitement in her voice, nothing.

“I needed to see with my own two eyes that you were alive and well,” Naomi starts. “Because you’ve gone radio silent on me. I know you’ve seen me calling and texting. Your phone works just fine because you picked up a call from Tobias of all people.”

He averts his gaze, ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry, I–”

She holds up a hand, stopping him mid-sentence. Naomi doesn’t believe for one second that he’s apologizing due to actual remorse. “I have spent the entire day wracked with intense worry. I feel like I’ve been turned upside down, and I could barely focus on work. Every time I thought I could be productive, something or someone was there to remind me of you. And then I’d spend more time ruminating over you and your situation, and the fact that you’re ignoring me, and then I’d feel like absolute shit. And earlier today, as I listened to the nurses gossip about you, I realized that this feels so much like your two month sabbatical to the Amazon, and our relationship hasn’t changed at all since then.”

“That’s not true,” Ethan argues.

“It is,” Naomi insists. “One step forward doesn’t mean anything if we end up taking two steps back immediately afterwards. A year and a half later, you’re still holding me at arms length, keeping yourself closed off, ignoring my calls.”

“I don’t mean to do this, to be this way.”

“But you continue to do it, so at this point you have to see it’s a pattern. You won’t even open up and talk to me about this lawsuit that’s being waged against you.”

“I just don’t want you getting needlessly involved.”

“While it’s a noble excuse, it’s complete and utter bullshit. If you think you’re doing something to save my reputation, remember nothing you do will ever top me almost losing my medical license my intern year, and then having a resident face a malpractice lawsuit a few months later. So come on, give me another excuse.”

“I’m doing this for you!”

“How? How could this possibly be for me?”

“Everything I touch becomes tainted!” Ethan snaps. “Because there is something wrong, in which everyone arounds me leaves or dies, or everything falls apart. I don’t have control or autonomy over anything, so yes, the one precious thing in my life, I’m too scared to touch.”

“But I have been right here with you! I was right here in this exact same spot when we worked on Naveen’s case. I sat by your side while we watched over Dolores’s son. I was there when they wheeled your mother into the hospital, and when you took her to rehab. Time and time again, I’ve proven to you that my loyalty is steadfast, and not once have I ever wavered, so you don’t get to stand here and punish me for some unrealized fear. You don’t get to treat me like I’m a passenger in this relationship, if you can even call it that.”

That’s what gives him pause. “Of course this is a relationship.”

“This isn’t a relationship, I am just a woman you sleep with. Occasionally you open up to me, we share a cute moment and promises, and then you clam up and up goes the barriers, and it starts all over again. And every single time, we’re a little bit deeper into this thing we’re in. I’ve shared more, I’ve let myself be more vulnerable with you, emotionally and physically, I’ve deluded myself into thinking ‘This time it’s the real thing,’. And I’m afraid that this is going to be our reality. One day I wake up, 3 years in, tentatively living with you, trying to settle into the pieces of a life I’ve scrounged up with you, and you do this again.”

“I don’t speak on it, and I don’t like to because I try to keep it all together, but you don’t understand the toll it takes on me every time we do this back and forth. I was a train wreck when you quit. I had the trial looming over my head, Landry, a guy I considered one of my closest friends betrayed me in the worst possible way, you weren’t the only person scared of losing Naveen, and I couldn’t even verbalize any of it to you because you slammed a door in my face when I tried to bring it up, and then you left me. And then you did it again, and I spent two months worried that you might not even come home because you could contract the deadly disease you were off fighting. And then you go on national television declaring your relationship status, and you made promises to me on my deathbed that led nowhere, and then finally we make some headway in Hawaii and establish what we have going on, and then I come home to this. So while you say one thing to me, time and time again, your actions say otherwise. It’s clear I’m not a priority.” 

This conversation triggers Ethan’s fight or flight response. He doesn’t know where this conversation is headed, but he’s smart enough to know it’s nowhere good.

“Naomi, what are you saying? Spell it out to me like I’m a preschooler.”

“I think we need a break,” Naomi says in one breath, afraid she’ll break if she prolongs this any further. The six words leave a sour taste in her mouth that she has to choke back.

“No,” Ethan’s tone is gruff, and the seriousness almost startled Naomi. “No, we’re not breaking up.”

“From where I’m standing, we already have,” Naomi retorts. “I’m just confirming it.”

Ethan takes one long stride towards Naomi, but she takes a step back. “Look, I am a daft asshole to put it mildly, and I know I have a lot of work to do, but this is by no means a reason for us to break up.” He takes another step forward, and now Naomi is backed up against the door. He tugs her forward, wrapping his arms around her. “I am sorry. I know the words probably sound hollow, but trust me when I say I mean it. I’ll fix this, I’ll do whatever it takes. You’re the only person I want, the only one I’ll ever want, and I’m not losing you. Not now, not ever.”

Through this right embrace, Naomi can feel just how rapidly his heart is beating. He’s scared.

A tear slips from the corner of her eye, and she’s too drained to even wipe it away. “This is reactionary. You’re saying all of this because you’re panicked, but if you meant any of what you just said, it wouldn’t take the threat of a breakup in order to want to change things.”

“It shouldn’t have taken me this long to realize what a fool I’ve been,” Ethan says. He refuses to let go of her, his arms still wrapped so tightly around her petite frame, he almost worries about crushing her.

“I agree.” What does that even mean? She gives him nothing more than that, and Ethan is left to stew in his own doubt and worry. Naomi breaks free of his embrace and presses a palm to his chest, signaling him to give her some space. “But I still think we need some space.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Trust me, I do.”

It becomes hard to breathe. When Ethan woke up this morning, the last thing he expected was Naomi to dump him. “What can I do? Tell me how to fix this. Do you want consistency? Done, I’ll talk to you every single day, multiple times a day. Transparency? Sit down right now, and I’ll explain this entire lawsuit top to bottom. You want proof that I’m never going to up and leave again, you can take my fucking passport. Naomi, I don’t care what I have to do, I will do it, but I will not accept you walking out of that door.”

Naomi inhales deeply, trying to stop a full son from bursting out of her chest. He’s saying all the right things, but at the wrong time. It’s too late now. “I’ve warred with myself all day about this decision. You’re clearly not in the right space to sustain a healthy relationship, and that’s fine. I just need to remove myself from the situation, for my own health and well-being. And I think you need to do the same.”

“So...what? This is it? It’s over?”

“Let’s be honest Ethan, you never gave us the opportunity to begin.” She wants to touch him so badly, reach out a run her hand through his hair or stroke his beard one more time. It takes everything in her to not. “You’re a great doctor, one of the best ones I know, so I really hope you beat this entire lawsuit and I get to see you back at Edenbrook. Take care of yourself, Ethan.

Ethan shakes his head in denial. He refuses to let things end like this, and for her to give him the same cool professionalism she extends to every other coworker.

“Naomi, wait–”

She’s out of his apartment before he can convince her to stay. It doesn’t register until he hears the soft click of her door shutting that she’s actually gone. And another minute passes before the gravity of the situation finally dawns on him.

For the first time in a long time, he’s truly alone.

~v~

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#playchoices #choices: stories you play #open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #dr. ethan ramsey

[defiblover27]

Old Friends

Sorry that I have been gone for so long. Finally back to writing again. If you ever have any ideas for a story my DMs are always open. Enjoy!

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

Bek is a 37 year old female with blonde hair that falls to her shoulders. She is slightly on the heavier side with and stands at just five foot three. Bek and one of her closest friends Ryan have decided to meet up at her house after they have both been busy with their professional careers and have not had the time to sit down and catch up in quite a while. Bek puts on her jeans and a shirt and then finally pulls a hoodie on over top while she waits around for Ryan to arrive before he has to go into work later in the morning. After Ryan arrives the two sit in the living room and start chatting about their current lives and reminisce the good old days of growing up together. The chatter quickly develops and they sit and laugh together as they recall some embarrassing stories that they experienced together. "I can't believe that we really did that.... Would you care for a cup of coffee before you have to leave?" Bek asks. "That would be great" Ryan responds. Bek gets up from the couch and heads into the kitchen just a few feet away. After picking up the coffee pot she turns to the walk to the sink to get some water when she suddenly feels very light headed and her tongue starts to tingle. Before she can do anything her vision goes dark. There is an audible thud and the shatter of the glass coffee pot is heard in the living room as Ryan jumps up from his seat. "You okay in there Bek?" as he turns the corner he sees the glass shards across the floor and Bek lying in the middle of the kitchen floor. "Oh my god Bek" he quickly rushes over and kneels down beside her. He shakes her shoulders to get a response and after a few shakes Bek lets out a sigh as she begins to regain consciousness. "What... what happened?" Bek asks shakily as she attempts to sit up. "You must have passed out has this happened before recently?" Ryan asks as he helps her up into a seated position. "No nothing at all, I've felt a little under the weather since this morning but besides that nothing." Bek responds as she slowly picks herself off the floor into a standing position. "I'm calling an ambulance" Ryan states as he heads back into the living room to get his phone. "No I'm fine really" Bek pleads but Ryan is already gone and dialing 911. Bek hobbles over to a bench in the kitchen by the table as she leans up against it. She can hear Ryan in the other room talking to the emergency dispatcher. She still feels lightheaded and a little woozy but brushes it off without another thought. Ryan reenters the room and stays by Bek and explains that the ambulance is on the way. After a few minutes the EMT's arrive at Bek's house and Ryan lets them in and leads them to where Bek is leaning up against the bench in the kitchen. They set down their bags and ask a few initial questions. After checking her vitals they explain to Ryan that she should be okay but they want to transport her to the hospital just in case. Bek tells Ryan to go to work and that she will call him later. The paramedics get his contact information before he leaves and he tells her to make sure to call him later. Ryan leaves the house and heads to work even though he is still worried about Bek. Jayden, one of the paramedics, asks his coworker Alex to go to the ambulance and grab the gurney since she is having trouble walking. Alex leaves the room while Jayden stays behind with Bek. "My... my chest... it..." Bek collapses to the ground for a second time. Jayden catches her as she collapses and lays her gently on the floor. He feels for a pulse and breathing. Finding none he quickly places his gloved hands between her breasts and begins CPR. He felt as each compression caused her chest to cave in and return to its position each time. After giving thirty aggressive compressions he tilted her head back, sealed his lips over her mouth, pinched her nose, and delivered a breath. He gave two full breaths into her still lungs causing her chest to rise and fall with each one. He did another round of thirty compressions as he felt a few ribs pop out of place due to

the force of the compressions. Again he gave two breaths as Alex returns with the gurney to see their patient unconscious on the floor. "What happened?" Alex asked quickly as he grabbed the heart monitor and AED from the gurney. "She went into full cardiac arrest, I've done two rounds of CPR and still no response. Alex grabbed some shears from his pocket and cut away Bek's hoodie, shirt, and bra causing her breasts to fall to the side. Jayden placed his hands between between her exposed chest and continued CPR. "We need to attempt to stabilize her before transport." Jayden announced. Alex grabbed an orange ambu bag from the O2 bag and sealed it over Bek's face. After every thirty compressions Alex squeezed the ambu bag twice to inflate her lungs. While Jayden was performing CPR Alex also attached the electrodes and AED pads to Bek's bare chest. The monitor whined to life as the line bounced up and down in v-fib. The AED charged to 200 joules as the paramedics backed away. The shock button was pushed and Bek jerked on her kitchen floor as the electricity coursed through her dying body. With no response Alex took over CPR as the AED charged to 300 in preparation of a second shock. Alex used the full weight of his body to compress Bek's chest as he felt a few of her ribs break under him. The AED announced that it was charged as they backed away and pressed the shock button. Again Bek jerked on the floor before relaxing again. "Still no response, lets give one more shock and then transport regardless." Jayden announced. Alex was already giving Bek CPR and simply shook his head in agreement. The AED was charged the 360 as CPR continued on Bek's dying body. They backed away once more as the AED was charged and shocked her again. This time the increased voltage caused Bek's chest to rise slightly off the kitchen floor before crashing back down causing her breasts to shake. "Asystole, lets roll out hopefully the ER can do something else to help her" They rolled her over before placing her on a backboard and loading Bek and all of their equipment into the ambulance and sped away. Alex hopped into the drivers seat and flipped on the lights and sirens as he attempted to get to the hospital as quickly as possible. Meanwhile Jayden was in the back of the ambulance compressing Bek's chest which now had a grayish look to it as her body began to shut down. The first few minutes of the ride were uneventful as Bek remained in asystole while her chest was being pounded away on. After pushing another round of cardiac drugs into the IV Jayden was able to force Bek's heart into v-fib as the AED was charged to 360 again. The shock caused Bek to jerk violently on the gurney before going still again. There was no change in rhythm so the AED was charged again as Jayden quickly tilted her head back and slid a metal blade into her mouth and down her throat slightly. He then passed a 8.0 ET tube down her airway and secured it with a blue holder. Attaching the ambu bag he gave a couple ventilations as he placed his stethoscope onto her cold and clammy chest to ensure it was placed properly. He was able to get it right on the first time so he dropped the bag so it laid against her face and pressed the shock button again. Bek's feet jumped off the gurney slightly and clenched up showing off the wrinkles of her small feet. Jayden began to lose hope of saving Bek as the monitor went flat once again as she went into asystole once again. Jayden pounded away at her chest as a purple bruise began to form in-between her breasts from all of the aggressive CPR. Her complexion started to fade and her lips turned to a bluish purple as her body was shutting down. She was now cool to the touch other than the center of her chest where Jayden's warm gloved hands have been so often. Each compression forced her breasts to shake violently as her chest was caved in rhythmically. He pushed another round of drugs into her dying body and gave to quick squeezes of the bag hanging out of her mouth before continuing CPR. He lost track

of how many cycles he has done so far or how long she had been down. All he knew is that he wouldn't stop until he got her heart beating again.

As they arrived at the ER Bek was still under intense CPR as her chest caved in rhythmically. They rolled her out of the ambulance as Jayden straddled the gurney. His hips placed directly on hers as his body hovered over hers as he continued aggressive compressions. Alex picked up the ambu bag laying on the gurney and gave a few squeezes every few seconds in attempt to give her much needed air. They took her directly into the trauma room as Alex gave the report. Jayden hopped off of the gurney and helped transfer Bek to the bed. They rolled her to her side and slipped the backboard out replacing it with a CPR board to get her chest in the correct position. Her nude body now laid dying on the bed as a nurse took over CPR. Jayden backed away slightly trying to catch his breath from all of the CPR that he had just performed. They placed another IV port and gave Bek her next dose of epi and continued CPR. The monitors beeped in tune with each compression that she received as her body shook around from the force. The attending doctor took out his pen light and checked her pupils. They were sluggish but reactive meaning that she still had a chance at coming back. They had no time to waste before it would be too late though. A day that went from hanging out with an old friend turned into a day where a team of medical professionals did everything they could to bring her back to life. The monitors began to bounce erratically as Bek converted into Vfib once again. The paddles were taken off of the crash cart, a large amount of gel was placed on one of the paddles as they were rubbed together, placed on her bare chest, and discharged. The shock caused Bek to flop on the bed and after the shock there was no change. CPR was resumed as the paddles were charged again to 360. In a moments notice the cold metal paddles were back on her skin as she was shocked again. This time her arms flailed to the sides and her feet scrunched up and relaxed again. Bek still did not convert so another nurse centered their hands between her large breasts as the paddles charged again.

Jayden was near the nurses station as soon as they left the room and called Ryan. "Hello is this Ryan?" Jayden asked. "Bek is not doing very well and I think that its important for you to get to the hospital as soon as possible. You are the closest thing to family that she has." He hung up the phone and looked into the trauma room as he watched the resuscitation continue. A few minutes later Ryan busted into the ER and ran toward Jayden. Jayden had to catch Ryan in his arms before he could burst into the trauma room. "What the hell is going on? She seemed okay when I left. I should have stayed with her." Ryan frantically pleaded. "She went into cardiac arrest shortly after you left. We have been doing everything that we can for her. She is in good hands." Jayden responded. Ryan could barely see into the trauma room but was able to see as everyone backed away and then as her body shook around on the bed. He fell to the floor as Jayden caught him and tried to console him.

"Asystole doctor" the nurse in charge of ventilations announced. "Push another round of epi and continue CPR please." he replied. The team worked in silence as they continued resuscitating Bek but they all knew that she was inching closer and closer to death. After three minutes at her 40 minute mark of her code the doctor asked "is there any family here?". A nurse informed him of the situation and he asked that Ryan be brought into the room. Ryan could barely hold his own weight as Jayden guided him into the room. "I'm the attending here and have been in charge of Bek's case. She was brought into the ER 20 minutes ago in full cardiac arrest. Her heart hasn't been beating for over 40 minutes. We have given her all of the drugs that we can and have done everything in our power. I am going to check for any signs of life again. Come on over and hold her hand." The two of them approached Bek as Ryan placed her hand in his. He could feel how could it was. "Stop CPR and check for pulses." The team backed away as they checked her carotid, and femoral pulses. The attending checked her pupils for the last time and found that they were fixed and dilated. "Time of Death 10:46am. I'm very sorry." The doctor announced. He left Ryan and a few nurses in the room as they started post mortem care. The disconnected the ambu bag, leads, wiped the gel off her chest, hung a toe tag on her right foot, and finally draped a white sheet over her nude body. Jayden stayed in the room with Ryan until she was taken down to the hospital morgue. Her autopsy found that she had suffered a massive heart attack.

#cpr #resus #resuscitation #defib #defibrillator

[sunnysviolin]

Omotober Day Three- Picnics

If you want to read it on ao3 (now as one singular fic because I am a dum dum) you can do that here

When Hero suggested that the five of them get together and have a picnic, Basil was nervous, but excited. There was a part of him that would always be afraid, but more than anything he wanted things to go back to the way they used to be. A picnic could be the start of that.

But Basil should have known that things could never go back to the way they used to be.

“Forgiveness, reader, is, I think, something very much like hope and love - a powerful, wonderful thing.

And a ridiculous thing, too.”- Kate DiCamillo

Basil wasn’t really sure what to expect when their group decided to get together for a picnic again like they used to, but his first inclination wouldn’t have been that there would be a fist fight about to break out.

After the fight, and the hospital, and everything that came after, things had gotten surprisingly calm and quiet. The guilt that had eaten his insides for all those years was gone, and in its place was peace. Yes, he still felt awful about what they had done, but the secret was over, and he no longer had to hold all of that pain by himself.

Their friends had accepted the truth at varied rates, and Basil was sure it would take a long time before they ever even came close to forgiving him or Sunny. Aubrey was still quick to anger, Hero was still avoidant of the pain, but things had changed. Something about those last few days Sunny had spent with them in Faraway had changed them all, made everyone more open to trying with each other again. Even after they learned everything.

It felt good to be friends again, to be able to look at their faces without the self loathing threatening to crush him. He would take whatever halted measures of friendship they would give, if it only meant not being alone again. So when Hero suggested a picnic, Basil eagerly agreed without thinking twice.

He should have thought twice.

The planning had gone perfectly fine. Kel was a hundred percent on board, and he had even offered to help with making the food. The other boy seemed most pleased that it was Hero specifically who was extending the branch out. Basil knew that, of all of them, Hero was probably going to have the most mixed emotions about what he and Sunny had done. Still, Hero was Hero. Even if he hated them both, he would never reveal it.

Aubrey had seemed unsure, but Kel’s enthusiasm and the promise of getting Sunny back to join them had her agreeing. Basil knew she and Sunny talked on the phone pretty often, maybe even more than Sunny and himself. Aubrey was trying hard to make up for the last four years, and she spent most of her time with Basil or by herself. She said it was to ‘figure things out’ and he didn’t pry. He knew how hard it was to accept things in your past that you didn’t want to think about or the parts of yourself that you didn’t like all that much.

Then there was Sunny. They had all crowded together around Kel’s home phone to talk to Sunny about their idea. He had agreed to come and made plans to sleep at Kel and Hero’s house the night of their picnic. Logically it would have made more sense for him to stay with Basil, there was more room at Basil’s house, but it went unspoken between them why Kel and Hero had extended the offer instead. He would catch the train in and out and be back by dinner the next day, it wasn’t a far journey. None of them had seen Sunny since the hospital, at least not in person, and Basil wondered what it might be like to lay eyes on the other boy now.

The day came and they had split into natural groups. Most of the preparations were already done, but there were a few things to finish up on the morning of. Hero would take care of finishing the food, Aubrey would set up in their spot in the park, and Basil and Kel were going to go pick up Sunny from the train station.

Everything was good. The day was bright and warm with not a single cloud in the sky, Sunny’s train had arrived right on time, and Sunny had even greeted them both with quick but tight hugs and a small smile. He was still wearing an eyepatch (and apparently would always be from now on) but he looked a lot better. The bags under his eyes were gone, and the greying pallor of his skin had vanished. He held himself a little straighter, spoke a little more, and the air of fear that seemed to surround Sunny had dissipated into nothing.

Kel had grabbed both of their hands and swung them through the air as they walked towards the park, chattering about what he and Hero had planned for that day. Basil was content to let Kel do most of the talking and shared a secret amused look behind his back with Sunny. This was something that had happened all the time when they were kids, and the nostalgia of it was easy to fall into.

When they got to the park and saw Aubrey, things were awkward for all of two seconds before she punched Sunny gently on the arm and ruffled his hair, bringing them over to the set up she had created. The picnic blanket was a checkered blue, not red, but it was soft. There was the scent of flowers in the air from the bushes nearby in bloom, and a breeze twirled the pinwheels clustered in the distance. It felt so blissfully...normal. Like they could just fall right back into step where they left off all those years ago.

Basil should have hit himself over the head for thinking that.

It started so innocently. They were waiting for Hero to arrive and sighing about how nice their little corner of the world was, when Aubrey made an offhand comment about her friends potentially joining them next time. Before Basil could even really process what her words, Kel had said no. He hadn’t said it in a joking way or to tease her. Kel had snapped, and the tension in his shoulder and the hardness of his eyes told them all that he was deadly serious.

It was jarring. Of all of them, Kel had always been the friendliest. Hero may have been the most popular, but Kel wasn’t far behind his brother in natural charm. He was sweet and sincere, and almost always willing to get to know people. It wasn’t like him to shut down so quickly or with such force. Kel’s face was stormy and he was avoiding eye contact with all of them, keeping those hard eyes locked with the ground. Aubrey seemed livid, but she sat stony and silent, waiting for more of an explanation. The one that came only made things worse.

“I just don’t see why you would even wanna be around them anymore,”

Aubrey, loyal beyond words, had swooped in to defend the rest of her gang, claiming that they were good people who were great friends. This had only made Kel scoff, which infuriated her even more. Basil was used to Aubrey and Kel getting into arguments, he was even okay with the escalated fight that had happened at the dock (seeing as he blamed himself for causing it), but this was unlike any of those.

Normally it was Kel who kept fairly cool during these things, and Aubrey that went ballistic. Yes, Kel fought right back with her and gave as good as he got, but he had always seemed calm and collected, mostly joking around and poking fun at how red Aubrey’s face would get.

Now it was his cheeks that were tinged, and his throat that was raw from screaming, in a way that Basil had never seen before. He stayed silent and tried to keep himself small, hands clasping together over his chest as he tried to remember the deep breathing techniques Polly had been teaching him. They didn’t seem to be working. A quick glance to the side showed Sunny in a similar state of distress, watching their friends argue with a wide eye and clear panic etched into his features.

Aubrey and Kel’s argument devolved fast, going from something that held worth to just being insults hurled back and forth. They began to advance on each other, clearly done with words and moving past to blows, but a voice cut through, breaking the intensity that had caught them all firmly in its grip.

“What’s going on?”

The four of them turned around simultaneously, varying stages of guilt evident on everyone’s faces. Hero emerged from the brush, carrying a large wooden picnic basket on one arm, his mouth turned downwards.

He surveyed the moment and sighed, a tired sound that betrayed a weight that they all knew Hero carried but refused to let them bear with him. The eldest walked over and gently placed the basket down on the blanket, glancing at each of them in turn.

“You okay, Sunny?” Hero asked, and Sunny nodded. He seemed calmer now that someone was intervening, but fear was still there. Hero patted him once on the top of his head and peered around the youngest. “Basil?”

Basil nodded too, his own words caught in his throat. It wasn’t the same as when Something had been squeezing him too tight to breathe, it wasn’t that bad yet, but it was still pretty bad. Nothing he couldn’t handle though, and Basil knew that Hero needed to be focusing on the other two right now. With both of them checked on, Hero stood at his full height and stared at the others.

“Explain,”

Both teens burst into words, voices raising as they tried to shout over each other and interject to disprove what the other had just claimed. Hero listened to the cacophony for a moment and then raised his hands, yelling over them to quiet down. Once it was settled again, Hero turned to Aubrey.

“Aubrey, you go first. You can talk with no interruptions. Then Kel is going to talk with no interruptions, and we’re all going to listen to each other. I want each of you to explain to me why you’re fighting, okay?” Both teens nodded, and Hero sat down, gesturing for the other two to sit back down as well. They did, and then Aubrey began to talk.

“Out of nowhere Kel starts going off about my friends and talking bad about them for no reason,” Kel made a noise here and Hero looked at him. The younger brother rolled his eyes but stayed silent, and Hero waved a hand at Aubrey to continue, “I don’t get why he’s so angry, but I don’t care. He had no right to say all of those things. That’s why they don’t like you, you just assume the worst of them.”

Kel shot a harsh glare towards the girl, something fiery and fueled with a deep rage that was completely out of character for him. Then when he spoke, the oddities only continued.

“I didn’t start ‘out of nowhere’. You started this by saying you wanted us all to hang out with them. Like we’re all pals. Did you forget that the only thing you did when you spent time with them was bully people and act like none of us mattered to you? You keep talking about how you wanna change, but you don’t. You just want to act like nothing you did mattered. They bullied m- Basil for years! If you’re really our- his friend I don’t know why you don’t want to protect Basil from those guys,” Kel finished his speech with a huff, crossing his arms and curling in on himself.

“I apologized to Basil plenty already!” Aubrey replied, a glance to Hero when she began. When he didn’t interrupt her, she kept going, “He forgave me, and now we’re trying to get past it. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Maybe we should listen to what Basil thinks?” Hero suggested, trying to keep the conversation from riding off the rails as it had before, “If you’re both so worried about him, it seems like his opinion would be the most important thing here,”

Then all eyes were on him, waiting to hear what he had to say. Basil twisted his fingers in his lap and laughed nervously, his mouth filling with cotton as both sides of the argument clearly looked for his backing.

“I-I don’t know?” He finally replied, the words sounding small and useless, only making everyone madder, “I wouldn’t mind trying I guess. Seeing if if it works out, ya know?”

Hero perked up here, shooting Basil a grateful smile. Aubrey seemed vindicated and her anger began to melt. The tension eased out of the air, and Basil breathed out. It was all going to be okay now. It was just a regular Kel and Aubrey fight. They would hug the way Hero always forced them to at the end of their arguments, and then the five of them could enjoy the afternoon together.

“Kel, if Basil is okay with it then it’s fine. Why don’t you two hug and make up and then-”

“What if I’m not okay with it, Hero?!” Kel exploded, cutting his brother off, “What about that?!”

Stunned silence coupled with an even stronger tension surrounding the group. Kel and Aubrey fighting he could understand, even Kel and Aubrey dragging Hero in to play referee he could understand, but never before had Basil seen Kel yell at Hero. Kel worshipped the ground Hero walked on, his big brother could do no wrong, and Basil had never seen any evidence that he ever had.

But Kel wasn’t done yet, and he continued his yelling. It was like something had cut into him with those words, and now that something, dark and black, was finally getting a chance to leak out of Kel. Basil knew all about Somethings. About how painful it was to live with them, about how they always eventually burst out and demanded to be seen. He just had never thought Kel might have a Something too.

“It isn’t fair that they get to spend years being terrible people. and then just act like they never did any of it. It isn’t fair that I have to just pretend like they weren’t awful to me. Like I didn’t spend most afternoons crying on my walk home because of them. Like I didn’t have to second guess everything single thing I did because they made me think that I was a bully.”

Basil had remembered hearing them calling Kel that before, and it had confused him then too. Kel had never done anything like bullying to anyone, but Basil had dismissed it. It seemed so ridiculous to him, he thought Kel would have just let it go too. Apparently not

“All I’ve ever done is try to help. I smiled and laughed and pretended like nothing bothered me because that’s what everyone else needed. And what did that get me? A bat to the face and being told by my own bullies that I was the one messing with them. They’re the bullies. Mean, angry bullies who I never did anything to. Except try to be friends with you.” Kel finally pulled his eyes to Aubrey with this final word, cutting his furious ranting off with a half laugh half sob. He brought his knees up to his chest and put his arms on top of them. He wasn’t crying, but the pain in his eyes was enough to make Basil’s own chest ache in sympathy.

“And then you let them call me a bully. When I didn’t do anything except try to help.”

Kel dropped his head against his knees, hiding and breathing harshly. His shoulders rose and fell. Up and down and up and down as he panted with exertion from his outburst of emotion. None of them made a sound. Basil wouldn’t have known what to say after that, and he was sure no one else did either. They also couldn’t have been prepared for the final blow that was about to be dealt.

“You all just wanna pretend like none of it ever happened...like all that time didn’t matter.” Kel’s voice was muffled, but the words hit all of them like a punch to the gut.

It wasn’t just about this one fight, it wasn’t even just about Aubrey’s friends. It was bigger, stretching out for years and years of suffering that had never been addressed. Basil’s breath caught in his throat, and he could see the others were in a similar state of shock. He looked down at his interlocked fingers, his stomach twisting up in knots.

It was so easy to forget with Kel. It was so simple to just get lost in his happy go lucky personality and his endless bounds of optimism. He always had time for them all, always willing to go that extra mile to help out his friends when they needed him.

He hadn’t given up on them. He hadn’t stopped knocking on Sunny’s door, even when he never answered. He hadn’t stopped saying hi to Basil, even when he didn’t say hi back. He hadn’t stopped encouraging Hero, even when Hero had no encouragement left to offer in return. He had even still looked for the good in Aubrey, when she had nothing good to say about him. That was just who Kel was, someone who kept trying.

But Basil knew better than any of them that a person could only be pushed so far before there was a part of them that was cracked and bleeding and needed others to heal it. Kel was a nice person, a happy person, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have his moments of doubt. The times where he needed to rely on them instead of the other way around. He never pushed, so no one ever was forced to notice all the bad thoughts and emotions piling up under that sweet sunshine smile. It was just easy to forget that those things existed behind his joy and his upbeat attitude.

They were the people who should have remembered to look. They were the ones who should have known. They had all wanted things to go back to the way they were, but the truth was they couldn’t.

There was no way to erase four years, no way to let go of what had happened to Mari. It existed, it was real, and all of them had tried to ignore it. All except for Kel, who had done everything he could to hold them all together without so much as a complaint. He was right, instead of acknowledging his sacrifices, they had acted like none of it had ever happened. That was what was unchallenging, that was what took no effort. But that was also what was killing Kel inside.

He didn’t know what they could say that would even start to mend four years of their friend trying and failing and continuing to try against all hope. What could a person say to that kind of dedication? What kind of thanks could be given to someone who took on that burden without a word until it had nearly crushed him?

It turned out that Basil didn’t need to know the answer. There was someone else who did.

Aubrey rose up from her spot across from Kel on the picnic blanket and plopped down next to him, turning her head away from the other boy. Her hand moved to his, settling on his elbow and grabbing his attention. Kel raised his head, staring silently at her as she looked at him from the side.

Basil didn’t know what conversation the two of them had without words, but he suspected he would never know. Things like that were only ever meant for two people, and even asking about it was treading on something sacred. Whatever it was, it was enough for Kel to uncurl from the position he had put himself in. He sat on his knees facing Aubrey, and she turned to do the same. She took a deep breath and raised her head, meeting his gaze fully.

“I’m sorry,”

It wasn’t much, when it came down to it. It wasn’t a long speech filled with tears and impassioned pleas. Aubrey wasn’t on her knees begging for forgiveness, or making promises to be better. She hadn’t even said it in a special tone or in a whisper meant just for the two of them. It was an apology, nothing more, nothing less.

It wasn't really much, but it felt so big. They were all touched by her words, all impacted by the enormity of such a small but profound statement. Sunny edged closer and leaned against Basil, and the weight against his side was warm and grounding. He looked down at the top of Sunny’s head, and the vines looping around his spine eased away once more.

When he turned back, Aubrey and Kel were hugging, sitting up on their knees and clutching hard to one another. He wasn’t sure which one of them moved first, but it wasn’t something he had ever seen. Basil has only ever seen them giving each other quick little hugs, or the awkward side squeezes Hero demanded after their fights. But this wasn’t either of those. It was genuine and real, and they both seemed a little reluctant when they pulled apart.

Hero, ever the older brother, beamed and pulled the basket to the center of their group, changing the subject to the food that he and Kel made. To anyone outside of their group, it might have seemed like a callous way to change the subject, but the other four were grateful for something to switch their minds to.

With the moment over, Aubrey went back to her usual brusque, digging into the basket and pulling out a sandwich and bottle of water. She grabbed the food and Sunny’s hand, dragging him over to one of the corners and demanding to hear about his new house. Sunny obliged her, talking about his room and the renovation plans his mother had begun.

Kel drifted over to Hero, falling against his brother’s side and leaning his head against Hero’s shoulder. Basil didn’t interrupt, but he watched Hero wrap Kel in his arms and whisper in his ear, something that had to be comforting given how Kel nodded and snuggled closer to his brother. Hero squeezed Kel and turned to Basil.

“How’s the new garden coming along?”

#Ugh that ending #Bleh #But I also don't have timme to doubt #anwyays! #omori fic #omori #omori kel #omori hero #omori sunny #omori basil #omori aubrey #angst #picnics #I just #hhhhhhh idk

[someonestolemyshoes]

So... during the time skip, Hange is on a business trip to Marley. Levi stays home to deal with some installation or important project for Hange, gets injured in some stupid way, falls off scaffolding or something. And he doesnt think too much of it because it's such a stupid way to get injured. And he hides it even when it gets worse and Hange is the only one who notices because she knows him so well. BUT when she gets back, it gets worse. And Levi hates hospitals so Hange forces him to go <3

Hello! Thank you so much for the prompt :) I’m not super thrilled with the way this one turned out, but I had a lot of fun anyway, and I hope you enjoy it! Angst ahead, if that’s not your thing. 

(Drinking game: take a shot every time Levi says he’s fine) 

Levi was no stranger to pain. While he had been luckier than most, Levi had sustained his fair share of injuries. Bruises and breaks were commonplace. Pain became easier to handle, wounds less debilitating to endure.

It didn’t make them hurt any less.

**

It wasn't a particularly bad accident, but it was a particularly stupid one.

Hange had been tied up in meetings for days, stuck inside Sina with other military personnel, with carnivorous media, with business moguls eager to ensure their pockets would be well lined by any negotiation plans with Marley and their neighbouring countries.

She had taken Armin and Jean alongside her; Armin had a mind with similar mechanics to her own, and as such he was best suited to help her formulate a compelling case with their higher ups, while Jean had attended at Levi’s insistence. Hange had already made it clear that, with Armin gone, they needed somebody to oversee continued construction on the railway line, and Levi, uneasy with the idea of Hange being without an attack dog, had demanded Kirstein attend in his place. The brat was becoming something of a budget Moblit, always trailing after Hange whenever she was around—Levi thought he looked a little pitiful, following her around like an eager puppy, but he supposed he was grateful for it now, if it meant he had no objections taking a trip into the interior with her.

Levi had been left with the rest of the brood. Eren and Mikasa worked diligently, though Eren—distant and despondent as he had been since the Queen’s address after Shiganshina—remained sullen, while Mikasa alternated between shooting Eren looks of concern, and staring scathingly at Levi whenever he came into view. She tolerated him far better, these days, but Levi was unsure she’d ever fully forgive him for his public display at Eren’s trial.

No matter. She did as she was told, reluctantly as may be. Connie and Sasha, on the other hand, were proving problematic.

They lacked focus. The four of them were working on construction of a rail house near the coast, somewhere to store equipment for maintenance, with a few flat beds for workers to rest in between commutes. The walls were coming along, but the space was still lacking a proper roof, covered only by tarp to keep the metal beams and frames inside from rusting before they could be treated and on the tracks. Eren and Mikasa were working quietly on one side, while Connie and Sasha were goofing off on the other.

Levi clicked his tongue. The work was, in theory, far less hazardous than slaying titans had ever been, but they were still a couple of stories in the air on flimsily constructed scaffolding, without any gear to catch them if they fell. The drop wasn’t deadly in itself, but the inside of the half-built hut was full of great mounds of metal, beams and poles and wires covered only by papery thin sheets. A fall onto that, from this height, would result in breaks and bruises at best. 

"Oi,” Levi called, making his way around the rickety structure. Connie and Sasha either did not hear him, or chose to ignore him. That had been happening upsettingly often, of late; whatever intimidation tactic Levi had employed when they were still bratty kids had lost its effect. Connie teetered around Sasha as she tried to smear mortar on his cheek, edging along the scaffolding on only his toes until he made his way around her. Levi picked up his pace and called again, more of a snarl this time, a warning, but Sasha let out a shriek of delighted laughter as she managed to slap a trowel full of mortar on the top of Connie’s head. Neither of them heard him.

“You fall and break your necks and Hange will kill me,” Levi said. Sasha twisted to look at him but offered only a smile. Levi was within feet of them, when Connie moved quickly behind Sasha—he was doing nothing suspicious that Levi could see, but Sasha, awaiting retaliation, tried to scurry hurriedly away. Her foot missed the edge of the scaffolding, and there was a fraction of a second in which her eyes widened, body tilting, before Levi moved.

His hand closed around her wrist. With a sharp tug, he jerked her back onto the safety of the scaffolding, but in his rush to grab her he hadn’t the time to brace himself—with his weight unbalanced, the force of his pull sent his body careening forward, tipping over the edge of the plank.

He barely managed to release his grip on Sasha before he lurched over the edge.

Levi was no stranger to pain. While he had been luckier than most, Levi had sustained his fair share of injuries. Bruises and breaks were commonplace. Pain became easier to handle, wounds less debilitating to endure.

It didn’t make them hurt any less.

Levi hit the beams with a resounding clatter. Metal clanged and wood splintered, dust gathering in great plumes as Levi hit the tarp. The beams, built with enough strength to hold steam engines, had no give to them—Levi struck one solidly with his side and his body bowed around it. Something—his ribs, his spine—crunched on impact. The sudden stop made his neck whip down, temple cracking hard against the stone floor.

Every last drop of air punched out of his lungs and a white, dizzying pain exploded in his head. He slumped the rest of the way to the ground, gasping fruitlessly, but his chest, all empty, crushing pressure, would not expand, would not allow for a single wheezing breath.

He lay in a heap on the cold stone. Dimly, he could hear voices, the clatter of feet on wooden planks and the echo of sturdy shoes on the scaffold poles as the kids clambered their way down to him, but everything sounded muffled and distant, warbled by the pound of his pulse and the rush of blood in his ears. He blinked rapidly, squeezed his eyes closed to push the fuzziness from the edges of his vision, then gathered himself slowly, shifting to lay on his back. His every muscle felt tight, seizing from the shock of the impact and sharp, stabbing pain, but despite the tension, something in his side felt loose. He sucked in a few small breaths, pausing at every spike of pain before trying again, and then he pushed himself up to sit. His head felt thick and full, stuffy, too heavy for his neck to hold up. It throbbed with the change of position, a crack of pain so sudden he thought his skull might split in two. He resisted the urge to grab at it as the kids’ footsteps sounded close by, several sets of feet scuffing and clicking against the stone.

Levi pre-empted their concern with a wheezy, “I’m fine,” as Mikasa, followed swiftly by the others, rounded the corner and stopped short of him. “Get back to work.”

None of them moved. Levi focused his swimming gaze on them as well as he could, attempting a glare, but the corner of his eye and the side of his face felt fat, skin tight over the rapidly swollen flesh, and his breathing was tight, uneven, chest jerking with each attempt to fill his empty lungs. Nobody looked intimidated by the sight of him—in fact, all four of the little brats looked almost frightened.

“Captain…” Eren said. Levi scowled, fought not to wince.

“I’m fine.” Gritting his teeth to muffle each pained grunt, Levi grabbed a nearby beam and used it to drag himself up to his feet. His head spun, the ache intensifying to something almost unbearable, and that, coupled with the sickening grinding sensation in his side as he straightened up, was enough to make him sway on the spot. Mikasa was the first to step forward, hovering awkwardly. Levi suppressed the manic urge to laugh—there was some irony somewhere in Mikasa, grudge so steadfastly held, being the one ready to catch him if he fell. Levi shooed her away. His chest ached something terrible, a persistent, resounding swell behind his rib cage. It should be impossible to feel so full, so bloated, yet so empty at the same time.

“You should rest a little more,” Eren said, at the same time Sasha erupted with a wailed apology. Connie looked pale and guilty behind her.

“Hange wants this—shitty thing—finished, by the time—she gets back.” Levi hitched stilted breaths as he spoke. He took a careful step forward. His side screamed, and his head pounded, but he remained upright, which was good enough. He passed by Connie and Sasha, who both looked ashen-faced, and clicked his tongue against his teeth. They’re too tall now, so tall he almost lost his precarious balance when he stretched up to pat them both roughly on the head. Then he brushed past them with as much ease as he could manage.

“Hurry up. The damn walls won’t build themselves.”

**

Levi had expected to be better by the time Hange returned.

The pain had not subsided at all in the three days that passed between the injury and Hange’s arrival—if anything, it had intensified, and Levi’s bouts of dizziness and breathlessness were near constant. He hid it as well as he could from the others, compensating with vicious scowls and quick, barked instructions, but he couldn’t escape their concerned glances.

The building, at least, was almost complete. They had laid the rafters for the roof the day before, and were hammering on the felt when Hange, Armin, and Jean appeared in the distance.

The weather was blisteringly hot. Eren and Connie had removed their shirts long ago, while Sasha and Mikasa had tried fruitlessly to keep their hair off the base of their necks and out of their faces. Despite his lack of manual labour Levi was just as sweaty as the rest of them, though his skin was pale in comparison. He had argued, albeit rather feebly, to do his part in aiding the construction, but the damn brats had put their foot down on that, at least—as such, Levi had spent the last three days sitting beneath the shade, glumly watching their progress.

He stood when he saw the horses approaching. The others climbed down from the scaffolding, wiping sweat from their hands and faces. They cast Levi a sidelong look, and he glared in return.

“Not a word,” he reminded them coldly. Levi had already demanded that they keep the details of his incident quiet. The swelling on his face had gone down some with the aid of a bag filled with cold sea water, but the bruises were persistent, mottled from his eye to his ear. He could play it off as a far smaller incident than it was, so long as he could keep the ugly welt on his torso well hidden. The bruising there was dark, a deep, violent shade of purple, wrapping around his side and bubbling out over his back.

Eren looked uncertain. Mikasa gave him a stoic, level look, while Sasha and Connie still looked sheepish, avoiding his gaze. They had apologised profusely, and on multiple occasions,  for causing such a mess. Levi had, at their insistence, scolded them for messing around, but in truth he had little energy left to care.

Hange waved as soon as they were close enough. She kicked her horse on, Jean and Armin following dutifully behind her. The three of them pulled to a stop and dismounted, leading their horses to shade and water, looking tired, but satisfied. Levi kept his angled down, twisted to one side. He was prolonging the inevitable, he knew, but if he could get Hange talking about the meetings, or with some luck the upcoming expedition, or maybe even the mostly completed rail house, Levi could at least wait until they were alone before Hange battered him with questions.

All three of them had dark circles under their eyes. Armin yawned widely, he and Jean bumping into one another as they walked. Hange, as tired as she looked, strode forward with a delighted confidence—Levi, in spite of himself, quirked his lip in a small smile. It has been too long since Hange looked excited about anything. The prospect of an expedition had breathed some life into her.

“We’ve still got to work out some kinks,” Hange said, “but things are looking good. We’ll set up another meeting with Kiyomi. It might take a little while, but we’ll get out there ourselves. See the world with our own eyes, and—more importantly—let them see us.”

Connie and Sasha exchanged excited glances. Mikasa and Eren shared a more subdued look. Levi understood both perspectives—the prospect of venturing out into the world opened them up to a lot of risks. Each of them carried targets on their backs. One wrong move, and they would be in trouble. But, if all goes according to Hange’s plan, there would be plenty of reward. Freedom was worth any price they could pay, if only they can secure it.

Levi listened as the group reacquainted. Eren and Mikasa seemed pleased to have Armin back in their company, while Sasha hounded Jean endlessly until he relented, and surreptitiously pulled a small pack of cured meat from the inside pocket of his jacket. He had the decency to look embarrassed when he caught Levi’s eye on him, but his abashed expression quickly turned to one of confusion when he caught a good look at Levi’s face.

“The hell happened, Captain?”

Hange, who had been quietly engaged with Armin and the other two, looked around. Levi tutted and curled his lip, letting his fringe fall to cover part of his bruised brow.

“None of your business,” he said. His chest spasmed and he clenched his teeth, fighting the sudden urge to cough. “If you’ve still got the energy to stand around talking, you can get up there and help them finish the damn roof.”

Jean, who either hadn’t quite developed the same immunity to Levi’s brash tone as the rest, or was nervous about Levi scolding him for stealing food from the interior, nodded once and shrugged out of his jacket. Sasha’s eyes followed longingly as he hooked it over the nearby cart sitting on the tracks, but then her gaze shot back to Levi, and she scurried after Jean towards the rail house.

The others followed. Hange’s eye was still on him, and she waited until the group had scrambled up onto the scaffolding and picked up their tools before she crossed over to him. She bent a little, tilting her head to get a good look at his face. Hange let out a low whistle.

“Quite the bruise,” she said. Levi gave her a somewhat guarded look, and carefully shrugged one of his shoulders.

“Brats were messing around,” Levi said simply. “Caught me with a stray elbow.”

He didn’t dare look Hange in the eye long enough to determine whether she believed him. He nodded towards the rail house and said, “They’ll be done in a few hours.”

Hange beamed, bracing her hands on her hips. “They’ve made good progress! I wasn’t sure they’d get it finished by the time we made it back.”

“You wanted it finished,” Levi scowled, “those were your orders.”

“Calling it an order is a little harsh, Levi.”

“You’re our commander, Hange,” Levi said. “You tell us to do something, we do it. By definition, it is an order.”

Hange grimaced. It had been years since Shiganshina, years for Hange to come to grips with the position that had befallen her, and to her credit she had taken to it admirably enough, on the outside. It was only in small, private moments like this that she allowed herself to show doubt. The lack of cooperation from Hizuru had been a blow Hange had expected, but hoped to avoid—she had worked hard on her proposals and her negotiations had been sound, but the rejection stung nonetheless. With each new trial and each new error, Hange felt herself all the more lacking. Her distaste for her own position, for Erwin’s faith, grew stronger, and showed face more often.

Levi took in her sullen expression and winced internally. After a moment of heavy silence, he said, “They give you a hard time?”

“Who?”

“Zackley. The reporters. The kids.”

Hange let out a low chuckle. “Zackley’s as rigorous as ever. Picked apart every last thing we had to say, highlighted every possible flaw in the plan. Made us work hard, as usual. The reporters...asked a lot of questions we didn’t have answers to. They’ll smear our names in the papers tomorrow, no doubt, but it can’t be helped. We did our best. Armin was a huge help, though. He’s still a little nervous, but—so clever! So full of interesting ideas, and he negotiates well. He’ll make a good commander one day.”

“And Kirstein?”

“He’s an excellent paperweight,” Hange said, shooting Levi a sideways grin. “I appreciated the company, but I think we would have been fine without him.”

“Never know,” Levi said gruffly. He couldn’t be sure whether it was the heat of the sun or simply standing too long, but Levi was beginning to feel woozy. Breathing was still a chore, a concentrated effort to suck air into his aching chest and let it out again without choking, coughing, and more often than not he felt lightheaded. He nodded towards the boxes he’d been using as a seat over the last couple of days. “Sit. You look like shit.”

“For once, I don’t think you get to judge me for that.”

Levi had already begun walking stiffly to the boxes, and made no comment. He had no valid argument to give—he did look like shit, far worse than Hange, and he felt even shittier. He dropped a little heavily onto the box and bit back a grunt of pain.

Hange sat next to him. The box shuddered. Levi tensed as pain lanced through his side. He took in a quick, sharp breath, holding it high in his chest when the pain intensified. He could feel Hange’s eye on him and clenched his teeth, fighting to keep his face somewhat neutral.

“You sure you’re okay?” Hange said to him. Levi grunted. He busied himself taking slow, shallow breaths, staring resolutely ahead, avoiding Hange’s keen stare. “You look a little clammy.”

Levi made another quiet noise. Levi wasn’t very talkative at the best of times—this, he knew Hange was aware of, and most of the time Hange was content to fill the silence herself, but today she was quiet, and watching him too closely. Scrutinizing. Levi had often praised Hange for her powers of observation—she had an incredible eye for detail and a knack for spotting patterns and anomalies, a talent which had served the Survey Corps very well, but right now, Levi was cursing it. He didn’t need Hange surveying him.

He was hurting. He’d had a near constant headache since the incident, and his chest felt tight, riddled with pain both dull and sharp, stabbing whenever he breathed too deeply or gave in to the pressing urge to hack out a cough, but more than that, he felt unwell. Groggy, sickly, light-headed. His heart beat frantically, and his skin did feel clammy, cold sweat sitting on his brow. He stared ahead, blinking the fuzziness from his head and resolutely ignoring Hange’s steady stare.

Hange’s palm pressed to his forehead. The sudden touch made him jump—his muscles tensed, his ribs screamed in protest, and Levi let out a strangled groan, biting his tongue a second too late to trap the sound.

He was barely aware of Hange’s fussing as he fought to draw breath. Air grated in his battered lungs as Hange’s hand pressed flat to the back of his neck, her voice warped and muffled in his ear as she felt his sweat-damp skin. His vision tunnelled. He blinked rapidly to clear the black spots and wheezed in the humid air. His chest felt like it might split open, pressure billowing out from behind his ribcage, pressing agonisingly against his damaged bones.

He breathed short and shallow until the haze of pain lessened. Hange’s voice was loud beside him, the sharp, deep bark she used when she felt it necessary to assert her authority. Through the fog in his head he could barely make out her words, but he knew exactly what it was she was demanding. Sasha’s voice was meek in comparison, but it still carried over the distance enough for Levi to hear her.

“It was an accident,” she was saying. “It was our fault—my fault—”

Levi hissed through his teeth. Hange’s hands—one still at the back of his neck, the other curled around his arm—tightened their grip on him.

“Drop it,” Levi said. “Stop grilling them. It doesn’t matter what happened, I’m fine.”

Hange had the audacity to laugh, but there was no humour in it. “Fine? Levi, you can’t even move. You can barely breathe! What the hell did you do?”

“Fell,” he said shortly. His voice sounded weak, but he didn’t have the breath to put more force behind it.

“From where? When? Hell, Levi, when did this happen?”

“Hange, leave it.”

Hange turned her question to the rail house, and Connie answered immediately. Traitors, Levi thought scathingly. Mikasa explained without prompt that they didn’t know the extent of his injuries, that Levi had refused a proper medical examination despite the head wound that had left him unable to stand straight. She explained that they had managed with very little effort to get him to observe the construction from the ground, which, it seemed, was enough to concern Hange—Levi wasn’t the type to sit around doing nothing. He despised being idle and she knew it.

“You should see a doctor, Levi.”

“I’m fine—”

“No, you’re not. What else did you hurt? Just your head?”

Levi felt ill. Hange’s persistent questions were making his head spin and his entire body felt sore and spent. He mustered enough strength to glare at her, but nothing more. Hange was watching him carefully, brow furrowed in concern, but at his silence her expression hardened, and she stood abruptly. Levi bit back another groan as the box moved beneath him.

“You can ride, then?”

Levi squinted up at her. “Hah?”

“If you’re fine, you can ride back into town with me.”

No. “Sure.”

Hange stared at him a little longer, waiting, no doubt, for him to backtrack, admit defeat. Levi clenched his jaw and maintained steely eye contact. Hange narrowed her eye at him, then turned towards the rail house.

“Oi!” Hange called up, cupping a hand around her mouth. Six heads turned their way, popping up over the roof. “We’re heading back early. Leave the scaffolding when you’re done, we’ll send for it tomorrow. Good work!”

She turned on her heel and headed towards the horses, still tacked and tethered beneath the shade of a small copse of trees.

“We’ll go get your head checked.”

“Hange, I said I’m fine.” It was a weak argument, made even moreso when he stood too abruptly and swayed on the spot. Hange darted back towards him and steadied him with a hand on his shoulder, and a little of her angry resolve cracked, worry creasing her brow. She led him, more slowly now, towards the horses with her hand hovering over his back. He braced himself for the agony of her touch, if she pressed her palm against him, but Hange—perhaps in fear of not knowing what other injuries he had sustained—didn’t touch him.

“Humour me,” she said. “If you’re really fine, and it’s really nothing, no harm done. I’ll feel better knowing, and you—” she drew them to a stop by the horses and turned to face him fully, grinning, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, “—you get to say I told you so.”

Levi said nothing. The thought of riding for hours on end made him feel nauseous.

“This is pointless,” he said. “I’ll rest here, if you’re so worried.”

Hange shook her head at him. She untied her own horse and Jean’s, holding the reins out for Levi to take.  

“We’re going back now, Captain. That’s an order.”

**  

An hour into the journey, Levi began to struggle in earnest.

No part of the ride had been pleasant—the heat was oppressive, and the motion of the horse required a fluidity in his hips and back that sent sharp jolts through his side with every step. Hange was uncharacteristically quiet, occupied instead by watching Levi from the corner of her eye. His head pounded with increasing intensity the longer they travelled, and between the pain, and the scorching sun, and his pitifully shallow breathing, Levi was feeling more faint by the second.

It was an unsettling sensation. Injuries were always difficult, but Levi had never felt so completely wiped out by physical damage in the past. Three days was enough time for his body to at least begin healing, but Levi had seen no improvement since the moment he struck the beam during his fall—if anything, he’d felt worse by the day.

Now, he was fighting to keep himself upright in the saddle.

They were approaching another clump of trees, great leaves wilting in the heat, when Levi, jaw tight and teeth bared, grunted out a request that they stop.

Hange looked torn. She wanted to hurry back into town, and was already impatient enough that Levi had requested they walk—”It’s too hot, for the horses”—but something on his face must have reflected the severity of his discomfort. Hange directed them to the treeline, dismounting and taking Levi’s reins while he did the same. His feet hit the ground and his knees buckled.

Hange caught him about the elbow but only after he had sunk to the grass. He felt shaky, weak, but more than that he felt vulnerable. Realistically, Levi knew that there was no shame in being hurt, in needing help, but he was a stranger to it. He had been self-sufficient since he was in Kenny’s care, and had grown up with the express understanding that showing weakness was a death sentence. And then again, in the Survey Corps—an injured soldier was titan bait.

There were no titans now, but Levi felt distinctly exposed, sitting in the long grass with his vision swimming and his lungs burning, barely functional.

Hange knelt next to him in the grass. She brought a hand up to his face, fingers curling against his jaw. Her gaze darted over his face, all of her righteous anger forgotten as she took in his state. Levi wanted to shake her off, to shake off the spinning in his head, to stand up and get back on the horse and continue their journey, but he couldn’t find the strength to gather his legs beneath him. Hange’s hands—one on his arm and one still on his face—kept him sitting upright.

“Levi…” Hange said slowly. Words sat on his tongue, reassurance that he was fucking fine, that he just needed a minute, but try as he might, he couldn’t get enough air in to voice them. His chest bubbled and rattled as he drew in a thin breath.

“Levi,” Hange said, sharper this time. Levi blinked blearily and searched for her. Neither of them were moving, but Hange’s image wavered and blurred in front of him. He swallowed. Wheezed. His heart hammered in his ears. Hange’s fingertips found the pulsepoint in his neck, pressing, counting. “Levi—what else hurts?”

Levi swallowed thickly, a nauseous tremor under his tongue. After a moment, he choked out, “cracked a few ribs, probably.”

Hange sucked in a sharp breath. “Let me see.”

He didn’t have the strength to fight her as Hange began unbuttoning his shit. He swayed where he sat, struggling to balance without her hands keeping him upright, until he heard Hange’s hiss as she uncovered the bruises wrapping his chest and back.

Levi looked down and grimaced. The bruising was worse than he remembered, stretching further up his chest, dark and mottled, the flesh tight and swollen.

“Levi, this is bad,” Hange said. “We need to get help.”

“Just need rest,” Levi said. His voice sounded slow and slurred in his own ears. Hange’s hand cupped the side of his neck, her thumb tipping his jaw up to look at his face. His eyelids felt heavy.

“I know it hurts,” she said, “and I know you don’t want to move, but—Levi, please. C’mon, I need you to get up.”

It had been a long, long time since Levi had heard that frantic tone from her. She sounded urgent, panicked. Desperate. Levi dragged his eyes open, but found he couldn’t focus on her face anymore. His lungs protested violently as he tried to speak, only coughing instead, dry and hacking. His chest burned.

Hange dragged him to his feet. Levi’s limbs felt heavy and clumsy, detached and completely out of his control. He leaned heavily into Hange’s side as she moved him across the grass.

“C’mon, Levi—work with me.”

Hange hefted him up onto one of the horses. Her horse, he realised, as she clambered up with him. She settled behind him, her arms gripping the reins either side of him. Levi tried to sit up right, but as she kicked the horse on, he slumped back with a low groan. Hange’s voice rumbled through her chest when she spoke.

“You good?” Hange asked quietly, and then, “stupid question, of course you’re not.” Levi found the strength to scoff, but it was a pitiful sound, and followed swiftly with another pained grunt and a fit of coughing. “Bear it a little longer, okay?”

Consciousness drifted, as they rode on. Levi was dimly aware of the sun on his feverish skin, and of Hange’s warm, solid body at his back. Her jaw brushed his head when she moved. Her voice was constant now, a rumble up his spine and in indistinct mumble in his ear. At times he could pick out her words, but his comprehension was hazy, mind unable to string sentences together, to find meaning in her chatter.

In this state, there was no focal point for the pain. It was consuming, indistinct but ever present, impossible to isolate in any one location. His whole body ached. His breathing was quick and laboured. There was no real respite even in this state.

Hange’s hand repeatedly found his throat, fingers feeling for his frantic pulse.

Time passed strangely. The ride seemed to last a lifetime, with Levi waking a thousand times to agony, consciousness barely breaking before he succumbed again to his feverish dozing.

At times, he awoke to new sounds and new sensations. The echo of multiple voices around him, all talking frantically over one. The scratch of crisp sheets beneath his bare back, the click of shoes on tiled floor. New, stinging, fiery pain, sudden and excruciating enough to make his body jolt in discomfort, followed swiftly by strong hands on his arms and legs to keep him still. Cool air blowing gently over his heated skin. His hand caught in a loose, tangled grip.

The aches in his battered body settled, localised. Levi felt it acutely in his chest, though the pressure no longer felt as intense. Breathing still hurt, but the air came easier now. He felt his lungs fill with it, little by little, for the first time in days. He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly in the light, then rolled his head slowly to look around.

The small window had been cracked open, the fresh, cool air lifting Levi’s fringe, tickling at his brow. Thin morning light poured in, illuminating the small, sparsely furnished room. Besides the bed he lay on, there was only one small table and a stiff, uncomfortable wooden chair.

Hange was slumped low in the chair. Her legs were sprawled out in front of her, her chin dropped to her chest while she slept. She had discarded her military jacket, eye patch, and glasses in a heap on the floor, and her sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, the top buttons of her shirt undone and splayed open. Her hair hung limp and ratty around her face. She looked pale and exhausted.

Levi’s tongue was dry, tacking to his teeth and the roof of his mouth. It took him three attempts to say her name, and when he did it came out raspy and ragged. He tried to move, to reach over and nudge her awake, to ask what the hell had happened since he’d last been lucid—but as he leaned over a sudden, white hot agony ripped through him, tearing into his side.

He gave a strangled groan and pressed himself back into the mattress, squeezing his eyes closed as he rode out the spasms. Wood scraped by the bed; Hange must have startled awake at his outburst. Levi squinted an eye open to see her blinking rapidly, rubbing her knuckles into her eyes before scooping up her glasses and taking in the sight of him.

The pain subsided little by little, though Levi didn’t dare move again. Hange sat on the edge of her chair and reached for him, her hand stopping short of his and falling to grip the bed sheets instead.

“How you feeling?”

Levi cleared his throat. “Like shit.”

Hange managed a weak smile. The bags under her eyes were considerably darker than they had been before, her skin paler, papery. Levi frowned at her. “You still look like shit.”

Hange waved him off with a small laugh, sitting back and scrubbing her hands over her face. She hung her head over the back of her chair, fingers pressing into her eyes beneath her glasses. She sat for a long while, observing the backs of her eyelids. Levi watched her through pinched eyes as the burn in his side settled to a more familiar ache.

“Don’t do that,” Hange said, voice strained by the stretch of her throat. “Don’t do that again.”

“Which part?” Levi said.

“All of it. Don’t get in stupid accidents. Don’t pretend you’re fine when you’re not. Don’t—”

She stopped short, then, with a sudden hitch of her breath. Levi watched her dig her fingers harder into her eyes, watched the bob of her throat as she swallowed reflexively. For a moment she was quiet, then she sat up straight and turned watery, bloodshot eyes on him.

Hange was strong. She was a far more emotionally available person than he could ever be, but she had an incredible capacity to compartmentalise. To switch off. To accept the necessity, the inevitability of loss, to evaluate and recalculate and move forward. Hange mourned—Levi had witnessed the aftermath of it plenty of times before, repaired broken tables and reorganised upended bookshelves in the wake of her disaster—but she mourned later. Alone. Felt all her fears and frustrations in isolation, away from prying eyes.

Hange wasn’t the type to cry at peoples besides and beg them to live.

And yet.

“Don’t leave me on my own.”

“It wasn’t that—”

“You dare tell me it wasn’t that bad and I’ll kill you myself.”

Levi clamped his mouth shut. Hange was glaring at him like she might really mean it. Instead of arguing, he said, “what’s the damage?”

Hange slumped forward, elbows on her knees and head hung low. “Broken ribs. Ripped up a few muscles in your back. Collapsed lung. The air pressure in your chest was restricting blood flow to your heart.” She put her head in her hands and dug her fingers into her messy hair. “You got so fucking lucky, Levi. If we hadn’t left when we did—”

He watched silently as Hange groaned into her palms. She breathed deeply, back and shoulders raising as she did.

“You could have died.”

“I didn’t.”

Hange’s head shot up. “By the skin of your teeth, Levi. You—” she took a long, steadying breath, but her voice still shook as she continued, “—you were barely breathing. You couldn’t talk to me, you would hardly even respond to me.”

“Sorry.”

Levi wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to say. Hange looked distraught, her composure tenuous. Levi’s fingers twitched on the sheets, itching to reach out and touch her, offer some kind of reassurance that he was here, he was fine—but he wasn’t fine, and moving so far was out of the question. He gripped hard at the sheets instead. “Sorry.”

“Not you as well,” Hange said quietly. Levi’s chest tightened painfully at her tone—she sounded so small in that moment. Scared. Levi wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her sound so frail before. “What am I supposed to do if you—” she cut herself off again, shaking her head.

“Same thing you always do.” Hange curled tightly in on herself. Levi turned to stare at the ceiling instead. “You keep going, Commander.”

“Don’t. Don’t do that.”

“One day or another, everyone you care about eventually dies. You said that.” He listened as Hange’s breath hitched, but refused to look at her. “It sucks. It hurts. But we keep moving forward.”

The mattress dipped by his hand. Levi rolled his eyes down, and found Hange hunched out of her chair, her face pressed into the blankets. Levi sunk his fingers quietly into her hair.

They lapsed into a painful silence. Hange hiccupped and sniffled now and then, while Levi scratched lightly at her scalp. After a long while, Hange spoke again.

“I know those were my words,” she said thickly. “But I can’t accept that. Not now. Not after everything.”

“Stubborn,” Levi said quietly. He pulled lightly at her hair until she raised her head, wiping her cheeks and nose messily on her arm. “Disgusting.”

Hange managed a bare, wobbly smile. Levi’s hand fell from her hair as she straightened up, and Hange scooped it up in both of her own. She played absently with his fingers, curling and flexing them, rubbing her thumb over the lines on his palm. She seemed to be gathering herself, brow a little furrowed in thought.

“I know we can’t guarantee anything. I know how uncertain our world is. But just—” Hange paused, closing Levi’s fingers around her own, then looked up at him with a fierce determination. “Promise me anyway.”

Levi blinked sluggishly at her. “Promise you what?”

“That you’ll survive.”

Levi tensed. “Hange…”

“Indulge me. Just this once, please.”

A promise of that kind was unrealistic, Levi knew this. Hange had said so herself: there were no guarantees. Except, that wasn’t quite true—death, at least, was a constant. The only inevitability they had. The island may be free of titans now, but the threat of attack loomed over them like a persistent storm cloud, black and heavy, ready to give at any moment. And accidents, as he had painfully learned, could happen in the blink of an eye.

Levi was resilient, but he wasn’t invincible.

But Hange was looking at him steadily, her resolve unwavering. She wanted his word here and now. Needed it, maybe, but Levi knew her. Hange valued honesty over everything else. There was no way she could feel at ease with such an empty promise.

Levi sighed.

“You’re a brat, you know that? Looking at me like that.”

Hange’s gaze held firm. Levi felt her grip on his hand tighten.

“I can’t promise shit like that, Hange,” he said. She squeezed his hand tighter still, and her body tensed, shoulders drawing up to her ears. “You know I can’t. Nobody can.”

For one horrible, gut wrenching moment, Levi thought she might cry again. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes but when she opened them again, her good eye looked terribly blank.

“You’re right. Sorry, sorry!” She let go of his hand and sat back in her chair, hands resting on her legs instead. Her voice sounded lighter, more like Hange, but there was something off about it. Something forced. Strained. She adjusted her glasses but didn’t meet his gaze again.

This was the Hange he knew. The Hange who could bury her feelings in the moment, squash them down and push them aside to focus on the rational, the plausible. Seeing her like that didn’t relieve him the way it should have. It left a sour taste in his mouth and a discomfort in his gut, knowing that he was the cause of the grief she felt she had to hide.

It was stupid, the whole situation—how a moment of carelessness lead to this; Levi bedridden, and Hange struggling to hold herself together.

The space between them grew stagnant. Hange seemed a little lost in thought, gaze caught blankly on Levi’s blankets, while Levi watched her, waiting for her to say something else, to change the subject, to be Hange again. But Levi was never one for giving inspiring speeches, and in truth, he didn’t know that anything he could say now would make anything better. Hange would do what Hange always did—wait until she was alone, and vent in whatever way she could.

And Levi, as soon as he was able, would do what he always did, too—pick up the broken pieces and mend as much as he could.

“You should rest.”

Hange blinked tiredly over at him. It had been an age since Hange looked well-rested, years since Shiganshina and the exhaustion of that particular battle had never left her. The burden she carried—everything Erwin had left behind and all that they had discovered since—was so impossibly heavy, the expectations put upon her too much for any one person to handle. Hange had enough to deal with, she didn’t need to be worried about him, too.

“Eat something, bathe. Sleep. I’ll still be here when you come back.” After a pause, he added, “I’ll promise you that much.”

Hange gave him a weak, wry smile as she fished up her eye patch, strapping it into place and righting her glasses over it. “I guess I’ll take that. And then tomorrow, you can promise me the same again.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever. Go.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll nap for a couple hours and come back. You should sleep some more too, you know. It’ll help you heal faster.”

Levi grumbled in response, and grumbled louder still when Hange stepped up to the bedside, but he fell quiet when she leaned over, brushing his fringe back from his forehead and pressing a small kiss to his hairline. It was such a simple gesture, and nothing out of the ordinary—Hange had been a physically affectionate person as long as he had known her, always grabbing and hugging and kissing whenever she got the chance—but there was something so tender in it, this time. Levi’s eyes fluttered closed.

Hange lingered longer than was strictly necessary, and yet it still didn’t feel like enough. Levi could easily have let her stay close, feel the warmth of her breath and the softness of her lips on his skin until he drifted into sleep, but she straightened up after a moment and Levi was left instead with the cold breeze from the open window. Levi blinked sluggishly up at her. His own exhaustion barrelled in, making his eyes sting, lids heavy. Hange folded her jacket over her arm and pushed the chair into the corner, out of the way.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” She said.

“Mm.”

“You’re gonna feel like you got crushed by a titan when the pain meds wear off, so make the most of it.”

“Got it.”

“And you should let the doctor know if anything changes. Straight away, don’t wait around.”

“I will.”

"And there are nurses around, if you get hungry or thirsty. The bathroom is just down the hall too, but they've got bedpans if you need to—"

“Hange.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Hange had already crossed the room as she spoke, but she paused in the doorway, fingers curled around the frame. She deliberated with herself for a moment longer, then said, “hey, Levi?”

“Hm?”

Hange chewed on her lip, contemplating something, a faint blush building on her cheeks. And then she shook her head, gave him a small smile, and said, "Ah, doesn't matter. Sleep well."

She left quickly after that, closing the door quietly behind her. Levi stared at the space she'd vacated, brow a little furrowed; her hesitancy confused him.

But he was tired. His body hurt. His head felt thick and fuzzy, and without Hange's presence to keep him occupied, he consciousness began to drift. 

Tomorrow, he thought hazily. He would ask her tomorrow. For now though, he would follow his own advice; for now, he would rest. 

#snk #levihan #my writing #man I had a hard time with this in the end hjhgjj I can't say I'm that satisfied with it #but!! I am sticking to my philosophy after the Drabble week #someone somewhere will like it #levihans relationship ended up more ambiguous but hey ho #also ended up being a lot of angsty hange

[imekitty]

Prompt: Vlad and Jack get stuck in an elevator together and thanks to security cameras Vlad can't use his powers to leave nor finally kill Jack. Tensions rise thanks to Jack's happy and oblivious attitude causing Vlad to explode at him and spill everything he's bottled up the last 20 years

I can't promise this is good.

-----

Vlad checked his watch as the elevator he was in began its descent. Only three o’clock, still plenty of daylight left for his other errands.

The elevator stopped and opened. Vlad walked out but froze when he caught sight of someone in the lobby, someone huge and tall and wearing an orange jumpsuit.

Shit.

Vlad walked back into the elevator.

“Vladdy! Hey!” yelled Jack behind him.

Vlad pretended not to hear him and pressed the button for the highest floor. Maybe he would just fly out of the building once he lost Jack.

“Hey, hold that for me, V-man!”

Jack was moving quicker in his direction now. Vlad jabbed the “close doors” button and watched the doors glide toward each other.

Jack began running. Vlad watched the doors close, almost, almost—

Jack’s massive gloved hand jammed between the doors. With a grunt, he forcibly pushed one of the doors back, metal scratching against metal. Vlad narrowed his eyes.

The elevator shuddered as Jack stepped inside. Vlad gave him a perfunctory smile.

“That was close,” said Jack. “Almost didn’t make it.”

“How unfortunate that would’ve been,” said Vlad through his teeth.

“Oh, can you press 3 for me, Vladdy?”

Jack beamed at him with that stupid oblivious grin he always wore. Vlad pushed 3 and also 2 for himself. The elevator doors did not close. Vlad pressed the “close doors” button. After another pause, the doors closed with an unpleasant grinding noise.

“So what are you doing here?” Jack held up a packet of papers. “I just need to get some things notarized at the bank here.”

“I’m here for meetings,” said Vlad, trying to sound cheerful.

“Yeah? Mayoral meetings?”

“Oh, I won’t bore you with the details.”

The elevator began moving up.

“Well, Mads and I are both really proud of all the great things you’re doing for our town.”

Jack grinned again. Vlad did not doubt his sincerity.

“So you’re here on your own?” asked Vlad. “Maddie did not join you?”

“No, she asked me to—”

The elevator shook and lurched up a couple feet before jolting to a stop. Vlad felt his balance shift as his legs stumbled. Jack grabbed hold of his arm.

“I got you, V-man. You good?”

Vlad wrenched his arm free and stood tall, straightening his tie. “I’m fine.”

Jack looked around at the walls surrounding them. “The elevator’s stopped.”

“It has indeed,” said Vlad.

Jack pressed a few buttons on the control panel. Nothing responded, no movement. “Definitely stuck.”

“Seems that way.”

“But someone will fix it soon.” Jack nodded. “We’ll be out of here in no time.”

Vlad looked up at the camera in the corner of the room and sighed. Even if Jack weren’t here, he wouldn’t be able to phase out. Not without finding where the security footage was kept and destroying it.

“I’m thankfully not in a rush. I’ve got plenty of time to get this done.” Jack stretched out his arms. “But what about your meetings? Are you gonna be late?”

“Hmm? Oh.” Vlad shook his head. “No, it’ll be fine.”

“I guess the mayor is allowed to be late for whatever he wants, huh?”

Vlad forced a curt half smile.

“But maybe we can call the front desk and ask if they’re getting someone to fix it.” Jack pulled out his phone and tapped the screen before raising the phone to his ear. “Hi there, we are in your elevator and it seems to be stuck. It’s not going anywhere. Do you have someone to fix it? Yeah? All right, well, we’ll just wait here, then.” Jack ended the call. “They’ve called maintenance. They should have us moving in a jiffy.”

“Good to hear,” said Vlad.

“So.” Jack switched his packet of papers from one arm to the other. “What should we do?”

“Do? What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean, I said they’d have us moving in a jiffy, but I was exaggerating.”

“Really? Were you now?”

“Yeah! So we’ve got some time to kill. This is a good chance for us to talk!”

“Talk?”

“Yeah!”

Vlad looked from one side of the elevator to the other. “Talk about what?”

“Anything! We don’t really get to talk anymore. I miss our college days, don’t you?”

“Do I?” muttered Vlad.

“Back when we used to goof around, crash frat parties.”

“I think it was you doing most of the goofing around. And we had to crash them because we were never invited.”

“Yeah, and I never understood why. We were so cool!”

“It was probably due to your incessant blathering about ghosts.”

“Ah, yeah.” Jack looked at the ceiling and smiled. “I really miss when we used to stay up late at the university lab. Like when we worked on that proto-portal. Remember that? Weren’t those fun times?”

Vlad shook his head. “No, actually. I don’t miss that at all.”

The two fell quiet for a moment.

“You know.” Jack flicked through the documents in his hands with a thumb. “You never told us what happened exactly.”

“What do you mean?” asked Vlad, weary.

“With the proto-portal. When it zapped you in the face?”

“Oh. That.” Vlad shrugged. “What about it?”

“Well, I mean, what happened with that?”

“It zapped me in the face, like you said. You were there. You saw.”

“Yeah, I know, but what happened after that?” Jack frowned. “Maddie and I never heard from you again. Not until the college reunion a couple years ago.”

“I was a little busy being hospitalized and nearly dying,” said Vlad dully.

“Yeah, we heard,” said Jack. “And we tried to get in touch with you, but we couldn’t find which hospital you were at.”

“I didn’t want anyone to find me.”

“But even us? Even me?”

“Especially you.”

Jack’s frown deepened. “But we were best friends, weren’t we?”

“I might’ve described us that way in the past, yes.”

“What does that mean?”

Vlad pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned.

“I was really worried about you, Vlad.”

“Worried?” Vlad scoffed. “Really?”

“Of course I was. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You weren’t worried about making sure you put ecto-purifier and not diet soda in the proto-portal’s filtration system,” said Vlad. “You weren’t worried about making sure I was out of the way before turning it on.”

Jack sucked his teeth. “Yeah, I was a little trigger happy, but I was just excited. Weren’t you?”

“I was not excited about getting blasted in the face with soda-infused ectoplasmic energy that burrowed in my skin and tore it up, no.”

“Was it really that bad?”

Vlad folded his arms. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

Jack nodded. “Okay. Well, maybe we can get coffee sometime or meet somewhere more comfortable—”

“No, I mean I don’t want to talk about this with you. Ever.”

“But why—”

“Because it was your fault!”

Jack shrank away from him.

“You were careless and selfish and destroyed my life,” roared Vlad. “I was in horrific pain and everyone who saw me stared at me like I was some freak. And I almost died. I wanted to die sometimes. Couldn’t even look at myself in a mirror.”

Jack tightened his hold on his documents and looked down at the floor.

“You never think before you do anything. You’re reckless and oafish and that hasn’t changed at all.” Vlad thrust his hand toward the elevator door. “Just look at what you did to the elevator!”

Jack looked at the door. “I didn’t—”

“Yes, you did,” spat Vlad. “You forced the door open and now it’s broken and we’re stuck in here. Because that’s what you do, you destroy and ruin things for other people.”

“But I didn’t want to miss seeing you.” Jack’s voice had a small whine. “I don’t get to see you enough, Vladdy.”

“Right, of course. You were thinking about yourself again. You broke the elevator because you wanted to see me. Just like you zapped me in the face because you didn’t want to wait any longer to try out the proto-portal.”

“Vladdy, please—”

“Don’t call me that. We’re adults now.” Vlad paused. “Or at least I am.”

He looked up at the camera and pursed his lips. With his arms folded, he clenched his fists, knuckles cracking.

Jack did not speak for some time. Vlad could only hope he would keep shut up until the elevator started working again.

“I am sorry, you know.”

Vlad rolled his eyes. Of course he couldn’t possibly expect Jack to stay quiet for long.

“I really didn’t know that would happen,” said Jack. “I didn’t even see what happened to you until it was too late.”

Vlad scoffed.

“I just thought we were on the brink of something incredible,” said Jack. “And I didn’t want to wait anymore.”

Vlad lowered his gaze to the floor.

“We were on the brink of something incredible,” he said softly. “I wanted it as well.”

Jack side-eyed him but Vlad kept his head down.

“And I suppose…” Vlad shrugged. “I know I couldn’t have done it on my own. Not without you. And Maddie. Probably more so without Maddie.”

Jack hummed amusement but said nothing.

“But you were the one who got me into all this,” said Vlad. “Ghosts, I mean.”

Vlad recalled Jack’s nonstop yammering about ghosts that kept him up at night when he really needed to be doing his homework instead. Yammering that at first annoyed him but began intriguing him, challenging what he thought he knew, pulling him into a new direction to explore the supernatural.

And allowing him to meet the first woman in a long time who had actually smiled at him. A woman he would have followed anywhere, into the Ghost Zone and wherever else she wanted to go.

“None of what I have now would’ve happened without you,” said Vlad. “Not that I’m about to thank you for any of it.”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me either,” said Jack.

“And I don’t,” said Vlad. He blew out a sharp puff past his lips. “But at least things turned out almost okay for me.”

“Almost?” said Jack. “What isn’t okay for you now? Something I can help with?”

Vlad wondered what Maddie was doing right at that moment. How he wished he could have gotten stuck in this elevator with her instead.

“No,” said Vlad.

The elevator shook and restarted its ascent. Jack grinned up at the ceiling.

“Hey, they fixed it!” he exclaimed.

Vlad also looked up but said nothing.

The elevator doors opened. Vlad had no idea what floor it was but knew he was getting off anyway. He stepped past the threshold.

“Vlad. Hey.” Jack stepped out with him.

“The bank isn’t on this floor,” said Vlad curtly.

“Yeah, I know,” said Jack as the elevator doors closed behind them. “I think I’m gonna take the stairs the rest of the way.”

Vlad raised his brows before huffing and shaking his head. “I have things to do.” He started walking away.

“Vlad.”

Vlad turned back to him. “What is it, Jack?”

Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “You have my number, right? If you ever want to talk about anything. Maybe whatever it is that isn’t okay for you right now.”

Vlad chewed the inside of his cheek and crossed his arms, remembering the failed hits he had put on Jack, how the only thing that kept him from killing Jack in that elevator was a surveillance camera.

“You really still think of me as a friend, don’t you?” said Vlad.

Jack blinked. “Well. Yeah. Don’t you?”

Vlad studied his face for several long seconds before smiling.

“Of course,” said Vlad.

Jack smiled back, looking relieved. Vlad’s facial muscles cramped as he kept up his own smile.

“Please give my best to your lovely wife,” said Vlad. “I really must go now.”

He turned and walked away at a brisk pace, balling a fist against his chest out of Jack’s sight.

#danny phantom #vlad masters #jack fenton #imekitty writes #prompt writing #chaosblade7 #proofread once