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#screaming and yelling and sounding like his life was spiralling which it probably was.
wolffoxnation2 · 24 days
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Trials of Loki AU Chapter 1
@parrotxx I did it!
Well atleast the first Chapter. I'm still not sure how i'll get him to earn his place back to godhood. And it was a little rushed near the end. Also havent proof read.
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Hi, I'm Loki Laufeyjarson. I used to be a god—err, Jotun. My 'godly membership' was revoked two thousand and sixteen years ago.
In my many, many years of living (if you can call most of it life), the Aesir have punished me in lots of creative ways. They've forced me to go get new golden hair for Sif. Let my mouth get stitched up. Murdered my sons and defiled their corpses to chain me to a rock. Put a snake over the aforementioned rock to drip venom on my face until Ragnarok.
But never in my immortal existence have they done something like this.
And I'm not even sure how they did it.
The last thing I remember was making an err...tactical retreat after a flyting with Magnus Chase. Being in a walnut that I definitely chose to be in, then sitting on a table surrounded by very angry Aesir, and then falling. Buildings spiralling in and out of my view. I tried to shapeshift into a bird, a dragon, or maybe even a butterfly—something that, as a Jotun, should come naturally to me, but I just kept falling, still humanoid. Which is very...uncomfortable.
Thankfully, I had a soft landing.
I sat up, groaning in a pile of leaves, spitting out a red leaf, and glaring at the park groundskeeper, who was staring at me bewildered. My ribs ached, and I was pretty sure were broken.
"What?" I snapped, "Never seen a guy fall from the sky?"
The groundskeeper's jaw dropped, and he fled, leaving his rake behind. Pretty sure he needed that.
The very annoying voice of Odin rang in my mind: YOU BROUGHT THIS ON YOURSELF, LOKI.
"Very helpful, Odin. Now, how do I fix it? Do I have to watch one of your stupid PowerPoints?" I asked, "Get you a new raven?"
Odin's shrill voice boomed in my head like he was yelling too close into a microphone: FIGURE IT OUT YOURSELF.
I rolled my eyes, massaging my temples. Great. Just great. Not only do I get—
—AND MY POWERPOINTS AREN'T STUPID, Odin bellowed before going completely silent.
Well, they are, old man, I thought before attempting to pick myself up from the leaf pile. My ribs cracked and throbbed in protest, and my stomach clenched. I barely managed to stand up before I wanted to sit back down again.
My vision blurred. I was in some sort of park. Blobs that I assumed were mortal children were playing loudly on a bigger blob—a playground of some sort, maybe?— nearby. Another grey blob stood in front of me—A statue, sadly probably not of me. I could hear running water, a fountain?
I took a deep breath, which was a mistake.
"Owwwweee!" I hissed through my teeth, "Yep. Yep, ribs definetly broken!"
My entire body screamed at me to lie back down. This mortal form was so... fragile. Every movement felt like snake venom dripping on my face, only this time it was my entire body. Everything was so soft and painful — How do you humans live like this? How do you deal with being so, so...weak? So fragile? Broken that easily? I hated it!
I managed to —painfully— drag myself to a bench, which proved to me once again that my ribs were definitely broken.
On the bright side: my vision finally decided to stop pretending it's a funhouse mirror and I could properly take in my surroundings.
I was right about the statue, it was not of me. Very sad. It was of that one guy—Leaf I think his name was. Seriously you mortals should get a statute of me erected (haha) instead of that nobody.
The sound of wolves howling rudely broke me out of my thoughts.
Which meant Fenris' pups were on the prowl.
Now usually I'm fine with wolves, my own son Fenris was born a wolf after all and these were his children—my grandchildren. But, I knew well enough to tell the difference between an 'I'm hungry let's go hunt, guys' howl and an 'Oh my gods guys. I love you all so much' howl.
This howl was the former.
And I'm not sticking around for it. Not because I think they'll attack me. They wouldn't dare try that. But because watching my grandchildren tear apart a mortal or the odd demigod brings back some very um.... unpleasant memories.
With a very painful protest from my squishy, broken, weak mortal body, I got up from the bench and started hobbling out of the park.
As I trudged out of the park and up the street, It started pouring rain because I clearly hadn't been humiliated enough. Thor decided to soak me.
"Really?" I yelled at the sky, slightly regretting it at the sharp sting of my ribs.
YES REALLY, Odin's voice boomed in my head. Though that could have been my imagination or delirium from the broken ribs.
"I'd never do this to you!" I retorted, pointing angrily at my head. Earning some weird looks from passing mortals.
YES YOU WOULD, several Aesir said in unison before going silent once more.
It's true I would. But that was beside the point! 
I am once again asking how you mortals deal with this? THIS IS TORTURE! And I should know! I've been tortured! Many times!
A car driving past decided I wasn't soaked and miserable enough and lovingly gave me a splash of muddy water, soaking my clothes, causing them to cling to my body.
I snarled before shivering.
I have to get out of here fast, I thought bitterly. I couldn't stay in one place for too long, not unarmed and injured anyway; I have too many enemies. All of which want me dead. Can't imagine why, I'm a delight!
But the problem with having as many enemies as I have is that I don't have many allies. There's my wife Sigyn, she's the only person I truly trust to not stab me in the back—mostly cause her hands are full from holding the bowl over my face but I digress.
But that opens up a whole other problem: I don't know where she is. She could be across the country ceramic bowl shopping for all I know!
So that kinda leaves me only one option, and I know neither one of us is going to like it. But I am really starting to feel woozy and I don't have a choice.
I stood outside Randolph Chase's mansion—well more Magnus Chase's mansion. I think Randy died, pretty sure I killed him. Not too sure about that, some of my memories are a bit foggy. Hope that's not a permanent thing.
Despite our rocky history of me trying to kill him and possibly killing his uncle, the son of Frey has proven himself to be somewhat sympathetic to me in the past. So maybe, I could appeal to his sense of compassion.
And if that doesn't work then I'll just convince one of my children to let me in. Because my children just cannot say no to me.
Because if they say no I'll make them say yes because they owe it to me for their powers and creating them.
Yay, parenting! 
The snarling wolf knocker rattled as I knocked on the door. Seriously what was it with Randy and wolves? Like, dude your sister got mauled by wolves have some decency...oh right he worked with me. He doesn't have that.
I yawned and rubbed my eyes. Why did I feel so tired all of a sudden? Why am I even doing this?
The door swung open and I had to dodge to avoid being hit in the face, something my broken ribs enjoyed very much.
It was in fact not Magnus that made an attempt on my life through door. It was the green-headed menace that I called my child.
Alex Fierro.
He—she? I couldn't tell, guess Odin didn't just take my immortality—didn't react to me in her/his usual hateful face. Which was a good sign. What wasn't a good sign was the fact that my vision was starting to swim again.
"Hey, Alex!" I chirped, before promptly passing out.
Oh for fuck sake.
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Chapter 2: Will be written soon.
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siderealxmelody · 6 months
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Her heart raced as her fingers gripping a hold of the front of his shirt, her mind was spiralling as the memories and thoughts continued to hit her without regard to what she wanted. The panic that followed through her, the heartache her body felt. It was like bits and pieces of what had happened was missing, as if flashes of what had happened came and went without reason.
She could hear Helion yelling, she could hear her brother screaming at someone. The gentle hand of another touched her arm, a female presence which was not blood was nearby. Was that Helion’s-? Any sensible thought was gone as she froze, her body tensed as she bit her lip to keep herself from screaming. She wasn’t in pain though? No, she was, just not physically.
Her clothes were wet, had she been outside?
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“We can hunt him down Thesan, we can drag him back here to answer for what he has done?” Endymion stood at the end of the hallway with her. He remembered the sound of Thesan’s screams when they had come across her twin, when they found her wandering in the rain. He was not surprised how quickly Harrow had jumped to action, tearing into the direction she had come from as if he needed to rid the world of some monster.
Thesan had confessed to him as Helion, Amaya and Nephelle had arrived on the scene that Sarai had been meeting with a male, a male who had been courting her and promised her so many things. He vaguely remembered the change in her over the last little while, though he had not been paying attention solely for the fact his focus had been on her sister.
His hand reached out and touched her lower back, he knew how close this family was, he knew damn well if one of their own was hurt in anyway they’d close ranks. “You don’t think he was sent here to do this, to break her? Why would they do something like this? Your father and mother had always been good and just rulers.”
[ Trying to find that in to explore the Sarai things. ]
Armand took the money, counting it out. He nodded at the order from his handler to remain low profile, to stick to the outskirt inns.
He set his bag down, the runes etching on the wood to keep it safe. It would trigger if someone tried to take it.
His hands were shaking, his entire body was burning up. He squeezed his eyes shut, his nails digging into the wood. He needed to breathe through this, this high pitched whine needed to stop. He'd told his Handler of it but they hadn't worried - "A simple symptom of High Life Armand. I wouldn't think much of it."
So why couldn't he breathe? Why couldn't he get her out of his head? Why -
His nails were bloody and raw. He curled on the ground, trying to make the whine stop. He barley noticed the person in front of him. Barely heard him being followed. It was finesube they'd stop the whining, his Handler wouldn't save him for this. He'd done his duty and like all of them he supposed he'd been put out to pasture.
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Helion stared down at the kid, guant, runes were carved into his skin. A Thrall, a - he moved, gently moving his ear to find the numbers tattooed on his skin.
A Child of the Prisons, a Foundling. He probably only knew his name. He thought of Nephelle, the tattoo behind her ear.
The way she'd never believed him and he'd proven her right. Till he'd stopped being an idiot. But with their bond he could hear the song, crystal clear like a silver bell.
Harrow stepped forward the blade at his side gleaming. Helion barred his teeth, moving between them.
"We give him once chance Harrow. We don't kill people who don't understand -"
"He broke her Helion! How is that fair? Why should he get another chance to -"
"I know you love my sister..I know you're only doing this because you don't like seeing her hurt...but if I know anything about the Foundlings. He grew up with nothing and no teaching on our customs. We should give him one chance...and if he doesn't pass we can torture him till he is a helpless shell."
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Armand curled in a corner, his teeth barred. His claws dragging through the wood. He didn't know these people and that whining wouldn't stop. He barely glanced at the female who put some food down for him.
But her Soul Song was beautiful and bright. It reminded him of home, twisting corridors and walls of iron and ash. He turned to her, gripping her wrist.
"Is this the Handler? Did they - did I fail?"
Nephelle fought to control her tears, her rage at seeing it happen again. She'd been just as terrified, and when Helion had walked -
She swallowed and shook her head.
"This isn't them. This is - you're safe little brother. Your safe. Do you remember the girl? She - you did a good job in breaking her. She didn't last long after you were done. We are Tuning you before your next assignment."
She watched him deflate, watched his eyes shut and those nails dig into his skin. No Foundling would show this much emotion in front of another family or not. But he was too far gone to care, his magic was burning him up. Did he even know how to weild it? Was he still on those suppressants to keep it dormant? She wondered if he had the same lesson on Falconry she had a child.
She still remembered raising that baby chick, teaching it to fly. Watching it soar and learning to mimic it. She remembered how it's heart had beat wildly as she'd been asked to kill it with her hands and teeth. To swallow its still beating heart -
"Nothing lasts. You are not a person, you are a tool. Tools feel nothing, weapons feel nothing."
She slipped out of the room, greatful when Helion simply held her. Her eyes shut, focusing on his scent on his low voice in her ear. Counting every one of those whispers that swirled in her ears.
"Do you think this is Drakon's family? His father was furious when I left Helion. I -"
She exhaled and looked back to the door. Her fingers gripping his shirt.
"He's so broken, a discarded puppet that doesn't understand what's happening. He recognized my Soul-Song so we must have crossed paths or come from the same wing....why are you smiling?!"
"Becuase I've been trying to figure out who this male was for two weeks. I was trying to understand what Sarai saw in him but now....she wanted to help him right? That must have been how it started and it evolved from there."
He looked back to her, his eyes so soft for her..
"I know he isn't you. I know he may be beyond saving. But I refuse to go back to the person I was in that war Nephelle. I hated that version of myself where no one and nothing mattered. My parents would want me to try, to help him as much as I can. Even if he and Sarai don't work...she is strong..she will come back, she has to. I accept no other words. She will come back and he will be free of them."
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Harrow watched, he always watched. Watched Sarai blossom into something even the Sun hid it's light from. He watched her fall for another, someone she didn't know. Someone he never met and who she was ready to Fade for.
Did no one else see what he did? Did no one else understand what was happening? If they were tied - if this was the life she was destined for...
Better she die, better she find peace. Some people just felt too much to exist in this world. He looked down at the Creature. His pale blue eyes milky from whatever things his Handlers did.
He knelt before him, satisfaction curling through him as he flinched away. He must still hear the music the Prison had touched him with. His father had been a Warden in those streets, his mother one of the Handlers. He'd rejected that till now, till he could see it all slip away.
He told himself he wasn't doing this because he loved her. He told himself that he wasn't owed her love or attention.
But he wanted those things and maybe he was being selfish sending them both to The Otherworld like this. But she was too broken to be fixed and this Thing didn't deserve to breathe the same air as her.
He held the drink up to its lips.
"Drink. You'll find peace now."
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starryjellyfishies · 1 year
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My Heart in Your Hands for the prompt! ;)
WIP Ask Game
Not to choose favorites or anything but... this one's definitely my favorite marvel fic XD
It takes place directly at the end of Avengers, with the premise that once Tony goes through the wormhole, he doesn't make it back out, and instead is captured by the Chitauri... only to end up cellmates with none other than Loki! They break out and end up adventuring around in space while trying to get back to Earth. It started as a whump prompt and spiraled into an adventure/survival fic, filled to the brim with tropes and a fair share of bizarre planets.
I spent a really long time debating which snippet I wanted to share, and uh. decided on the part that gave the fic it's title! Which is... not a snippet. So instead of being quoted it's going under a readmore!
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He tried his best not to think of Obadiah looming over him as he clicked the reactor out of its socket. The soft noise drew Loki’s attention, and the god paused his rummaging to stare in shock.
“See these cords? There’s only two. Two. Please remember which connects where,” Tony pointed out, holding the reactor as far away as it would go without straining the wires.
“Loki?” At the sound of his voice, the god didn’t even blink, and Tony was starting to worry that the Asgardian was actually paralyzed and frozen in place until he finally spoke up.
“You… would entrust me with your life?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I would,” Tony answered, taking a deep breath as he came to terms with what he was about to do. “I am, actually.”
He ripped away the reactor before he could think twice, gasping as he felt the constant, comforting whirr of the electromagnet abruptly stop.
Holding it out with a shaking hand, Tony could feel himself start to sway. Loki sprang into action and carefully grabbed the reactor from his fingers, giving him one last look of what Tony could only comprehend as surprise before shuffling over to the control dock.
“You’ve got about a minute before I go into cardiac arrest, and after that, I’ll, uh-“ Tony paused as he laid down, a feeling of static running through his head. “I’ll probably die,” he finished.
Tony knew what it felt like without the reactor, but he would never be used to the feeling. He zoned out as the god worked, his heartbeat loud in his ears.
For someone who was known as a genius, it was ironic that he was probably about to die from his own stupidity. He just gave the fate of his heart to the very man who threw him out of a window. If he tried, he could practically hear Pepper and Rhodey yelling at him from the other side of the universe.
It was a stupid decision. Loki was Loki. He enjoyed chaos and unleashed the Chitauri that got Tony into this mess in the first place. He was known for lying and deceiving. He was unpredictable, crazy as a bag of cats, murdered countless amounts of people, and Tony saw footage of him smiling as he jabbed a man in the eye while everyone screamed around him.
But Tony also knew Loki. And Loki wasn’t anything like the crazed sorcerer he met in Stuttgart. Sure, Loki was still cunning and manipulative, and he thought out his plans for the long run, but he wasn’t cruel. He was broken, he was used and controlled, and Tony was intimately aware of what he had been through. The look on his face when Tony handed him the reactor was the look of someone who had never been trusted in their life. And for all his snarky and biting comments, Tony truly thought the god enjoyed his company, and maybe he cared, even if it was only a tiny amount.
Giving Loki the reactor should have been a terrible idea, but for once, Tony knew he wouldn't regret this.
“You know, if I don’t–”
“Stark,” Loki interrupted, shutting him up with a glare. For a moment, as he finished hooking the arc reactor to the ship and stood to look at the controls, Tony wondered if he actually didn’t care at all, which, for the most part, really hurt. But, the god spoke once more after he flipped a few switches. “I will see to it that you do not fall to Hel’s grasp.”
“People usually tell me the opposite,” Tony joked with a weak laugh. Just as the edges of his vision started to blur, he saw a small smile make its way onto the god’s face. He hadn’t seen anything like it before, and it was so very soft and genuine, albeit a little sad. As his consciousness faded, Tony truly believed that he wouldn’t mind it being the last thing he saw.
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genshin-impact-fics · 3 years
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Streamer!Genshin Reacting to Character!(Y/N) Dying in Game
!Warning!: Major character deaths & angst
Characters: Diluc, Venti, Childe, & Zhongli
Diluc:
It was a race to get inside one of the bases of the Abyss Order to put a stop to whatever plans they were in the process of executing that could potentially put many lives in danger. Diluc was rather calm while playing though it would be a lie to say that it wasn’t a bit annoying that the route to the domain was timed
It was once inside the domain did things pick up fast as it seemed to be a fighting wave system which after beating the first two rooms there was a short scene where in the end Lisa and Amber stayed behind to hold off the incoming enemies so the rest of the group could go further. It seemed like forever doing some of the puzzles to unlock the doors to reach the next fight
In that fourth room after the defeat of hilichurls and abyss mages did suddenly a short cut scene appear to show the appearance of an Abyss Lector. As remembering how much he hated fighting this guy in the spiral abyss he already knew what he was in for; however that was until your character stepped forward with your weapon ready. Diluc was actually sad to have to leave you behind as he was hoping that you’d be one of the characters that went with him to the very end
“I think I’ve watched enough shows and movies to know what this could be leading up to.” He’d comment to his viewers as he finally reached the destination where the Abyss Herald was. Finishing the fight triggered another cutscene as the traveler’s sibling appeared and was making their small speech, asking if the lives of the “friends” the traveler made were worth losing
Diluc is watching with a straight face as he kinda expected this but the who was what he wasn’t sure about and truthfully the only one he’d be truly heartbroken about is your death, but they wouldn’t kill you now of all times right? Wrong; soon the cutscene finally came across where they had left you and you were leaning against the wall extremely injured with your weapon laying beside you. Diluc is frowning cuz he has to watch you die now
Listening to your final words as you spoke to no one Diluc would sulk in his chair a little. In the last moment before your eyes closed, if you mentioned something about not getting to tell his character your true feelings it is visible that Diluc looks like he wants to cry(but he doesn't). Once the screen showed the mission complete he’d grab the plush he had of your character and hold it looking at his camera. “Of all the characters I thought were going to die, I wasn’t ready for it to be (y/n).” At that point he’d probably call it a day from there but he’d still talk to his viewers as he probably would watch the tribute videos that fans had already made
Venti:
Everything was in chaos as it looked like archon war 2 was going to be taking place, but this time it was a war between the Abyss Order and the Archons. He was heading to Mondstadt to help and to check on you. Dvalin was flying around sending attacks at the abyss members. “Ah traveler there you are!” The sound of your voice as you landed before him; as weird as it was to see you in your archon robes was odd but you looked so good! After a short conversation you had gone flying off and it was time to get back to fighting
Things were looking good as it seemed like they were winning against the abyss order though it wasn’t over yet. It was until up in the air did a cutscene starting showing you and the traveler’s sibling fighting going at it. Venti is so captivated by how serious and cool you look fighting, but it all changed when the sibling landed a blow that caused you to fall from the sky ending up falling into the Whispering Woods
Venti couldn’t run fast enough to get to the woods to check up on you but when he did the first thing he saw was the sibling standing before you. He’s already sad and yelling at the sibling for hurting you though it seemed that now he was there the sibling went and disappeared revealing the real condition you were in. “No, no, no! This better not mean (y/n)’s dying.” He’d say in denial as he’s already starting to cry a little
“A-Ah Windblume h-haha… Sorry you have to see me like this.” Even in a moment like this you gave him such a cheesy grin until you seemed to grimace in pain. “Unfortunately it seems like… This is it for me. As long as the winds blow I will always be with you, so please watch over Mondstadt for me.” Your words were making Venti cry as it was like back in your story quest but only ten times worse. And to think it was already painful as it was your next words that did him in. “Maybe in another life we will find each other again and maybe then we can be together.”
Watching you start to glow until you turned into partials of light till nothing of you was left, Venti is devastated. The chat is crying with him as he’s saying how awful it was that his sibling had killed the love of his life! His viewers are going to send him fanart and fics to look at that was an alternative that you lived in the game
Childe:
It was a big fight with the confrontation of the Fatui Harbingers, facing off against one of the other stronger members that blocked the path to proceed to seeing the Tsaritsa. The boss’ first stage was fine; however during the second stage it seemed after losing a certain amount of health the damage that Childe was dealing significantly decreased.
It was when the cutscene started that Childe was already dreading the foul legacy form he’d be facing this time. You suddenly came out of nowhere and already in your foul legacy form yourself Childe is going crazy over how cool you look; he’s also swooning at the fact that you’ve come to his rescue. The fighting progressed until you landed a successful hit that weakened the other harbinger; however, at that same time the other harbinger managed to hit you with a powerful attack
Childe is screaming at the sight of your mask breaking while you fell to the ground. He’s so glad that his character is running over to check on you instead of the fight picking right up, but he’s already feeling the feels hit him hard cuz he hates seeing you hurt. Seeing you back to normal, the damage you sustained was really bad; then the worst thought came to his mind. “This-This better not be what I think it is,” he’s saying not looking away from the screen listening to you weakly talk
“Haha don’t give me that look sweetie, I couldn’t just let this be where your journey ends.” Hearing those words and the nickname you used for his character was sad. “To think we’d be able to travel together more, but hey… Promise you won’t stop fighting and could you look after my siblings for me.” Childe is literally crying now that the reality of the situation is clear. If he gets a choice of dialog to choose from he is going to pick the choice that says that he pinky promises
If your character smiled at the choice he wanted to smile but he’s also just sad, you were dying in his character's arms. If you had given a small love confession in the little bit of life that was in you, he’s going to ugly sob and once the fight was starting again he needs to pause by going into his bag
Immediately he goes getting his big plush of you and coming back to hug it and cleaning his tears with his sleeve before looking at the camera. “I wasn’t ready for this, my baby!” He was not expecting to be losing you; he figured that some characters would possibly die but you were the last character he thought would be killed off in the game. There’s Fs in the chat all around and the crying emote; it’s sad boi hours in this chili’s. He doesn't wanna do the fight but also he gotta avenge you so this last stage fight was for you. Afterwards he’s gonna go look at fanart and video edits
Zhongli:
After helping some of the other nations and their archon’s fend off the abyss order it was time he headed to Liyue to find you. Of course as usual it wasn’t going to be as easy as running around the harbor until he got word from Xiao that you were in Cuijue Slope. So he headed over to help you before anything seriously bad could happen to you
Getting to the open area there you were fighting against the sibling as you were even in your archon robes. Going in and interrupting the fight his sibling clearly looked annoyed and proceeded to try to get him to side with them which of course he didn’t. A Herald appeared to allow the sibling to get away which the fight with the Herald commenced
Just when Zhongli finished up the fight thinking he had won it strangely went to a cutscene as his character and you started to talk; however it was when the fallen Herald came out of nowhere about to attack his character but must to his surprise you shielded him not only taking the hit, but also using your elemental burst to finish off the enemy. Zhongli is frowning at how badly you were hurt as he already has a bad feeling this wasn’t going to end good; the traveler was helping you sit up after having fallen over
“I’m glad to see that you aren’t hurt my friend.” You said as you certainly have seen better days. “Sadly I believe my time has come… Do not be sad dear friend, I have lived many many years… As knowing you has been life changing. Though rocks change from erosion, know that no time will change how I felt about you.” Your words broke his heart as you had such a soft expression on your face as your body began to glow and before he knew it you turned into particles of light and disappeared. He probably wouldn’t cry at most maybe a tear but he is clearly upset about your passing in game and would take a break to talk to his viewers and maybe look at the fanart that surprisingly had been put out already
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miyalove · 3 years
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➳˚。⋆ MUTUAL CONNECTION.
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➳ pairing. roommate!kuroo x fem!reader x (slight) terushima
➳ warnings. slight dubcon (kuroo listen’s to reader having sex), voyeurism, swearing, masturbation (male), pining
➳ notes. thank you for 500 followers! here’s a spicy fic to celebrate... if it gets enough love then maybe a part two will be out
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2.4k | thinking you were going to be home alone, you decide to invite your favorite fling over to have a good time. surpisingly, you’re not alone and your roommate kuroo is torn between letting you know that or locking himself up in his room to torture himself.
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he’s in some deep shit now. the playfully cocky man is grown enough to admit that. as much as he wanted to blame you for his trouble, he’s adult enough to admit that maybe… just maybe, this one is on him. you thought that he was out and with fair reason too. he did text you saying so; ‘late classes. don’t wait up’. only it turned out that his professor had a last minute change of plans because as he got to class, on the door was a note detailing how they were canceled.
it wasn’t much of a sweat for him though. he wouldn’t mind a day home alone with his thoughts. it would allow him to catch up (and even get ahead) in most of his classes so this was basically water under the bridge. instantly, his feelings of serenity changed when you arrived home and not alone either, but with your current prey— terushima.
he was a younger guy compared to kuroo, but not by much. fit, intelligent, a cosmetology major (so he never looked bad) and kuroo knows just how much of a good dude he is in bed too. courtesy of you, of course. every now and then, you’d get into tangents about your flings and terushima was the only one that you had only good things to say about. it wasn’t as if he was jealous though. please, kuroo feels all emotions but he prides himself on not feeling that on. him? jealous? nothing of the sort, really.
he thought you were hot and when the two of you meet for the first time, there was just something that clicked. you got along so well with him like puzzle pieces perfectly slotting together. you two got along so well that since then you were practically attached by the hip. that was nearly a year ago, when you meet. if the circumstances were different he might have made a move on you, but things are complicated now because even if he thinks about what you would look like underneath him; he can’t make a move.
you guys are roommates. he missed his opportunity to have something more once he asked you to move in with him. and you being a broke college student, just like him, happily said yes. it would become awkward if things didn’t work out because hell— he’d be living with his ex which could make a great plot to a cliche hallmark movie but not to his life.
for now, he’d have to keep things on the down low. even if you constantly came at him with flirty teasing. it happened mostly when you were drunk— everyone tends to have more courage when they’re 5 shots deep in tequila. however, there are some instances of ‘friendly’ flirting that happens especially when you’re sober. he doesn’t miss the vague compliments that, if either of you questioned, things would start spiraling. he doesn’t miss the stares that last a little too long or touches that linger for a split second longer than needed. the way you giggle a little too much to not be considered flirting.
but even at that, even with fate constantly pushing the two of you together be it through classes, parties, or running into each other on the street; he never made a move and neither did you. and at first, he was okay with that, but right now not so much because right fucking now, he’s stuck in his room wanting nothing more than the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
he didn’t even know you were still seeing terushima. sure, you bragged about how great he is in bed but you were more of a one and done kind of girl (as you lovingly explained to him one drunken escapade). so to see the bleach blonde again (in his own house of all places) with you straddling his lap rubbed kuroo in a way that was anything but pleasant. he didn’t want to be subjected to this kind of torture so he figured running into his bedroom would be a good solution to his problem.
he anticipated just blasting music in his headphones. drown out whatever was happening just a few feet away from him. arriving at his destination, he gently shut the door to his room. throwing himself on his bed and reaching for his laptop, he’s glad that the noises haven’t started up yet. but when he searches his bag for his headphone and nothing comes up, it then dawns on him that he leaned his pair to a friend and now he is more fucked than you.
he panicking. a low whine of despair escaped his lips as he felt pity stir in his chest for himself. just his luck that his pretty roommate was fucking a completely different dude and he’d have to sit her and take it like some kind of incompetent loser. he contemplated going out there to stop whatever was happening. to just maybe knock on his door or yell out to you, to have you guys know that he’s in here and it’s not just you and terushima. yeah, just yell out to you guys would be easy, right? open the door, scream a simple “please don’t!” and done. he so sure that his plan is golden that he reaches for his door knob with a grin.
but then he hears you moan.
and his eyes widened at the sweet sound.
he can’t help but freeze up. how could something so lewd sound to pretty? his grip on the knob tightens. kuroo finds himself thinking hard to himself. this is so bad. even if he’s heard how pretty you sound, doesn't meant anything. as a good roommate, hell, as a good friend, he should go out there and tell you what’s up.
but then he hears your pleas again, however it’s not a moan this time. you let out a shakily sigh that was followed by some other words that he couldn’t really make out because of the distance. you sounded so needy, so desperate to have someone touch you to make you feel good. the mere thought of you desperately pleading with that pretty little mouth of yours made him dizzy.
with everything that’s happening, it makes sense that his dick starts to stiffen. he fumbled about his room. trying so damn hard to ignore the growing pain in his cock. he did some quiet jumping jacks, paced around his room, and tried to drawn everything out by screaming in his head.
it seemed that most things where to no effort. when he hears you let out a low groan followed by the succulent sound of wet lips kissing at your skin is when he finally lets go. desperately kuroo’s hand clutches his crotch over his shorts as he tried to control his thoughts and raging desires. he pleaded with himself to keep it cool, but no matter his attempts, it felt like his dick had a mind of it’s own— which it does.
no matter how hard he shut his eyes, or how loud he blasted super bass in his head, he couldn’t get the image of you naked out of his thoughts— you were probably fully nude by now, underwear (if you were even wearing any) scattered across the living room floor. he imagines that you’d wear something elegant yet contradicting sexy. lingerie that framed your body perfectly. kuroo would have to demand you to take them off or he’d rip into them himself. you’d be on full display just for him— terushima, he meant. not like him him. dear god, he felt sick but at the same time so fucking horny. it’s a weird combo that only you could ever invoke from him.
would you be weirded out if he jerked off to the idea of you having sex with someone else? of course, you would! it takes a special kind of crazy to think that you’d be okay with him just barging in on your private time. there’s no other way around it. you’d probably hate him for the rest of your life, if you were to find out what he was doing. but it’s not like he can do anything about it. it’s not like he can not not listen to you.
it’s far too late to interrupt now because he’ll look like some kind of perv that was actually enjoying listening in on his roommate fucking another guy. when his head start to finally clear, a deeper voice erupts from the intimate silence. it’s  terushima.
“you want me to fuck you right here, baby?” he breathed out. even with the distance, kuroo could hear the leather of the couch shift. he only can only imagine how you two are positioned right now. “what if your roommate sees?”
“then he can enjoy the show,” he knew you were just playing along. drawing out the teasing to further your play time with terushima but it’s startling really because— if only you knew.
at this point, kuroo thinks he’s about to explode. he could practically hear the smirk you had on. the way you were dripping with lust had him biting back a groan. the things you do to him when you’re not even doing him was insane. he tried to block his thoughts out, think about something that’ll kill his boner but nothing came to mind.
nothing could kill his intense wanting when all he could picture was that he was the one making you moaning right now. that it was his name that you were grunting as you ride his cock. the thoughts made his dick impossibly harder, the pressure building up so much that it felt like he had no choice but to rub it over the fabric of his shorts.
it was like his body was acting without thinking as he began panting quietly to himself. when the sound of your voice got louder, his pace over the fabric quickens. his cheeks flush at the scandalous act. there is no way he’s rubbing one out to the sound of you fucking another guy.
but then your voice gets more needy, pleading with a desperation that kuroo couldn’t help but wish was for him. something inside him snaps. then all at once he’s betraying his thoughts. he’s not thinking straight when he finally pulls his shorts down. sighing in relief as his dick springs up, slapping his abdomen.  
he waste no time wrapping his hand around his cock. eyes fluttering close when he gets a good rhythm going. slowly pumping when he hears you whining. then quickening his pace when he hears your moans getting faster. the slapping of skin on skin contact making his imagination grow wilder. he can’t help it really. picturing you all spread out, taking his cock like the good girl he hopes you are. your expression shifting to absolute bliss when he hits your sweet spot. he’s drowning in pure pleasure. his body completely laxed as he slumps over.
he slows when he hears your voice again, “god, fuck. just like that.”
it’s airy and pitched. begging and praising terushima as he fucks you perfectly. the image of you taking him— kuroo (not your other stupid fling), makes his breath hitch.
“f-fuck,” he mutters. his hand picks up speed. so many thoughts running through his head. mainly of you spiraled out in his favorite position, and so wet that his cock would just slide into your pussy easy. you’d be begging him to go harder and with such a sweet fucked out voice, how could he say no? he’d grab your hips and slam into you. you’d practically forget who the hell terushima was if, kuroo has his way with you.
hearing your moans pick up, his imagination gets the best of him. his hand pumps faster and faster. his body feels hot as he imagines your tight pussy swallowing his cock, sucking him in ever time he tries to pull out. he pictures you to be greedy in bed wanting every inch of him inside you and pounding so hard into you’d practically be seeing stars. he imagines running his hands gently through your pretty hair, petting you every once in a while and cooing about how much of a good girl you are. he’d be ready to pull at your roots if you even dare to tease him because he knows you’d try something as cunning as that. you’d do it with pleasure, a smirk plastered on your lips and nothing but trouble lining your hues.
“oh god– fuck.” he’s nearing the edge. he can feel the brink of his heat snapping. as if the gods are finally righting their wrongs. your melodious moaning reaches his ears.
“fuck. i’m– i’m gonna cum!” if this were any other circumstance, kuroo would say that it was romantic. the two of you finishing together. the blissful ride coming to an possibly wholesome end. silks of white hot pleasure filling you up and just when you think it’s over, he’d lean down one hand gripping your thigh while his long slender fingers go to work on stuffing all the leaking cum back into you. fuck. you’d be squirming under his touch caught between begging him to stop or wanting to go again and again and again…
opening his eyes, kuroo’s hues are meant with darkness. a stickiness all over his hands and tummy that he’s come to be all to familiar with at this point. he wishes he could finish how he imagined but he has to snap back into reality every once in a while. a bitter feeling fills his chest, a huge shift from his lust filled yearning a few seconds ago. things were certainly going to be a little weird from now on. kuroo considers himself quite the extrovert (sorta) but he’s kind of terrified to see how he’ll naturally react to you now that– that that has all went down.
taking one last look at the white strings that cover his body, he let’s out a way too loud (especially given the circumstance) groan. grabbing at a dirty towel he starts to clean himself off. when warm thoughts of you invade his memory again, he grimaces a fluttery feeling overcoming him.
“oh, i’m so fucked,” tossing the towel somewhere in his room. he falls asleep to the sound of your soft giggles as his soundtrack.
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sailorhyunjinz · 3 years
Text
𝕴𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝕾𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖘 𝐈𝐈
© 2021 SailorHyunjinz ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
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Pairing; Bartender!Changbin x Fem!reader (she/her pronouns)
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Warning ; ANGST!!! SMUT!! skz side characters, semi-slow burn, hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers, depiction of mental disorders, consumption of alcohol, tobacco use, dysfunctional families, mentions of undereating, vague hints to eating d-sorders mentions of crimes, mentions of blades, fainting, mentions of dr-g use, arguments, mentions of savior complex, mentions of childhood neglect, depiction of depression, mentions of needles, mentions of blades, yelling, mentions of hangover, parental issues (lmao cherry just say daddy issues), arguments
𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞 ; PIV, unprotected sex, hair pulling, drooling, getting caught, masturbation, fingering, clitoral stimulation, orgasm (f). 
(fic header made by @yjeongs! thank u cora <33) 
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𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 ; 10.0 k 
From one survivor to another; cheers you guys. 
O N E | T W O
                        ⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ Playlist ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰
Drugs N Hella Melodies - Don Toliver, Kali Uchis
Life is a Bi... - Bibi 
cigarette and condom - Bibi 
Empty Trash - LØREN 
Noir - Sunmi 
NEED - LØREN
Pretty Boy - The Neighbourhood
(hint hint look at the lyrics <33)
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𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥.
𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 18.
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𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈 ; 𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐚
Three months.
Three months of booze, questionable substances, friends and most importantly. 
Him.
Seo Changbin. 
You never knew you could feel this deep about someone, there hadn’t been a reason earlier in your life since everyone in it either used you or abused you. But you knew he was different from the first time you saw him that night in the dark room, injured and surrounded by 7 other boys that were now your closest friends. Why would anyone ever want to leave this place? There was everything! Free drinks, ear-deafening music and your boyfriend. This was heaven for a hurt soul like you, so why would anyone search for an exit in this box of traitors? 
“O-oh fuck! Changbin!” you cried out as the momentum of his thrusts made you jolt forward, hands desperately trying to grab onto the black leather of the sofa you and him had made love on countless times, the door always being unlocked since there wasn’t a lock and this damn parallel universe wasn’t gonna install one anytime soon. 
Changbin grabbed your hair, twisting it around his hand as he pounded into you from the back, the supple valleys of your ass wobbling with each movement. Your voice became frail, stuttering and moaning his name in broken syllables along many other pleas and swearwords, the way your words became incoherent the longer he fucked you made his head lull backwards, pure music to his ears unlike that shitty music that blasted through the speakers on the dancefloor that was just next to the tiny dark room that was currently filled with the scent of sex and lust. Your head was tilted up, eyes tightly shut as you clenched around Changbin’s leaking cock that was jackhammering into your wet cunt, his dick glistening with your slick every time his hips moved away from you and reflected in the minimal light of the room. He grunted as all kinds of lewd sounds were heard from you, the skin slapping against each other and the squelching noise of your pussy being filled with his cock. His hands had a tight grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as the pleasure surged through every nerve of his body, sweat beading around on his temples. Your arms could barely hold you up, quivering and risking to collapse under you causing you to put your head towards the seat, warm cheek against the slightly cold leather. With your back fully arched your ass perked up, Changbin hitting exactly the right place in this position, a small stream of drool hanging from the corner of your swollen lips. You were so close to your release, hanging on by a thread to not tip over the edge and be sent spiraling down an earth shaking orgasm. 
“C-changbin, I’m gonna f-fucking cum” you stutter, reaching your hands backwards to which he let go of your hair and instead grabbed your wrists, holding you in place and pushing you down onto his cock. Your voice was no longer a whimper but instead a scream, goosebumps erupting on your soft skin as you panted, Changbin viciously thrusting inside you and being fueled by your pleasured sounds, he got off by the fact that you felt good. You were so close. So close.
“QUICK!! FELIX FUCKING FAINTED” Jisung said, bursting through the door but immedietly regretting his decision as he yelled out into the room that was now filled with your yelp and the loud club music from outside. 
“For fuck sake Jisung! Knock!” Changbin growled at the boy, you trying to grab your clothes off the floor and desperately covering yourself as Jisung stod in the doorway with panicked eyes, flailing his arms around in an anxious state. He was more appalled by seeing Felix passed out than he was seeing Changbin fucking you from behind. 
“NO TIME FOR KNOCKING, JUST FUCKING MOVE” he said, signaling his hands to follow him. In a haste you put on your clothes that weren’t much more than a skirt and a tight shirt, oh and of course your sexy panties, you had leveled up from your previous looks that made you look like a distressed mother of 4. Now you knew when you were gonna pass out and you even teleported in the phonebooth instead of injuring your head against the wall as you fainted. Changbin did the same, putting on only his pants as he ran after Jisung, you following shortly after, scared about what you were gonna witness.
The main dance floor looked like it usually did. People high, drunk or both, dancing and singing their hearts out, falling over and tumbling down on the floor. The whole place reeked of straight liquor and the music was loud enough for anyone to go deaf. You held Changbin’s hand as he dragged you through the crowd, not letting his eyes go from Jisung’s figure that was leading the both of you to the back end of the club, pushing through people and muttering small apologies that couldn’t be heard by even yourself. When you got to the end of the big place you saw Felix, his back and head against the table as he was completely knocked out, his legs dangling from the end of the rectangular table. You climbed on top of the soft seatings of the booth, putting your cheek near his nose and mouth. You didn’t hear if he was breathing but you were assured as you felt his cold breath against your hot flesh, sighing in relief. 
“How is he?!” Jisung yelled, “is he dying?”
You shook your head, grabbing his limp wrist and putting your pointer and middle finger on the underside of his limb, his veins not visible in the dark lighting of the club. His pulse was stable, beating faintly. 
“He’ll be alright!” you yelled back, the concerned gazes of the other boys standing around the boy exhaling as they heard your words, Changbin going closer to Felix and putting his hand on his shoulder, shaking the boy and repeating his name over and over again but to no avail. Seungmin rubbed the palm of his hand against his exposed forehead as his hair was pushed back.
“I’ll stay here with him, Changbin fetch me a water bottle and,,, wait,,, why did he even faint in the first place?” he asked, the boys looking at each other until they landed on Jisung that looked distressed, his pinkish lips quivering. 
“Probably a nice concoction of no food and only alcohol” he said, peering down at his black boots, his hair flopping onto his face, too shy to meet the gazes of his friends as if he had done something wrong himself. Seungmin could only sigh, you patting Jisung on the back as you walked through the jumping crowd again, the song changing as you heard Seungmin say “get him something Changbin”, their voices fading into the beat as you walked with Jisung behind you. 
Jisung slammed the door as you two were back in the room that had only moments earlier been filled with helpless whimpers and pleas. You threw yourself on the wrinkly couch, looking away in shyness when remembering that Jisung had caught the two of you even if everyone knew that you guys fucked in that very same room whenever there was time and Changbin wasn’t standing in the bar. The young boy sat down on the dark floor, leaning his elbow against the seat of the sofa as his twinkling eyes met yours. 
“I,,, just don’t understand” he said, you tilting your head in wonder as he uttered those words.
“Don’t understand what Sungie?” you said, the walls almost vibrating from the bass of the song from outside. He sighed as he momentarily looked away from you. 
“Felix,,, like it’s so clear that he needs help, just over the last few months his cheeks have sunken in and his eyes are completely matte and lifeless” he said, his voice trembling as a lump of tears was stuck in his throat. 
“But aren’t you the same Jisung? You need help too, help to stop thinking that everyone is your responsibility. I understand that you want to help him,,, but you carrying everyone's emotional baggage has landed you here. Felix will get help by those that are capable of getting him that help, you aren’t Jisung.”
His eyes shot up at you, dark as his eyebrows furrowed, his jaw clenching in anger. He felt attacked, commenting on his actions usually made him feel offended. 
“I am capable of helping him. What about you then huh? You can’t even help your own boyfriend” he snarked, running his hand over his hair in frustration. You rolled your eyes at him, watching him as he bit the inside of his cheek. He needed to do that, he couldn’t tell you the fact that one day your boyfriend is just gonna disappear since he’s actually taking matters into his own hands and getting help. 
“Don’t say that Jisung, we both try our best,,, let’s not fight over something we can’t control” you say, your voice getting frail by the end of the sentence.
“Can’t control? We can, we can help each other!” he said, banging the palm of his hand against the warm leather of the couch, making you jump in fear. You dropped down on your knees, your eyes being on the same level as his as you looked at him, the young boy diverting his gaze immediately.
“Jisung, look at me.” You grabbed his other hand that was resting in his lap against the rough material of his jeans. “We try, that’s the best we can do. Change comes from within. Nobody can save us if we don’t save ourselves.” Jisung sighed loudly, swallowing harshly, the both of you flinching when somebody burst through the black door. Changbin was carrying Felix on his back, the male still passed out on his broad shoulders. Your boyfriend looked puzzled at the scene before him. His girlfriend holding hands with one of his closest friends, sitting close enough to feel his breath against her cheek, both looking like two helpless deers caught in headlights. He furrowed his eyebrows as he walked into the room, throwing Felix off his shoulder and positioning him into a semi-prone position in order to open the airways. You and Jisung stood up, looking at the blonde boy and how his eyelashes layed gently against his lower eyelid. Changbin looked at Felix for a while before turning to you with a serious expression. 
“So,,, what happened here?” he said to which you shrugged.
“Me and Jisung just talked,,, about Felix” you answered, Changbin uttering a little “oh” as his previous rather unfaithful suspicions were proven to be false. “There’s no need to worry, he’s breathing so he won’t be in any medical danger as of right now but somebody needs to keep an eye on him,,, in case something changes.” You smiled at him talking.
“Alright doctor Changbin” you said while giggling, hugging him and him wrapping his sturdy arms around you, looking at Jisung’s mellow expression, eyes brimming with tears as he sat down on his knees on the floor once again, pushing a lock of hair from Felix’s delicate face, cupping his cheek that was once plump but now gaunt. Changbin pulled away from your comforting embrace and patted Jisung on the shoulder, bending his knees to get closer to him. 
“Do you wanna keep an eye on him, Ji?” he asked to which the boy nodded, not answering with words, not even a gaze at the male that was talking to him. He turned around to look at you, pointing his chin towards the door, signaling for the two of you to get out and leave the two boys alone to which you nodded, following Changbin out and gently closing the door behind you by turning the knob and releasing it slowly. The music got louder and louder as you two walked in the long corridor before ending up on the main floor, the corridor going to the bar and you could only get onto the dance floor by exciting through the wooden gate of the bar. 
“I’ll go find the others, you should work!!” you yelled through the music and Changbin nodded, giving you a kiss on the lips before you exited through the gate, being careful to knock any of the liquor bottles on the walls over and causing a ruckus like you’d done once before, being black-out drunk and trying to hobble your way through to god knows where, accidentally swinging your arms towards the shelfs. Luckily everything restores itself in this universe.
People were doing their usual activities in all corners of the club, making out against a wall or jumping, spilling their drinks on the floor that Changbin would have to mop up afterwards when he steps in the sticky liquid that pressed up against ones shoe. It was impossible to see who was who in the dark room, the neon lights on the roof changing colors but not making it easier for you, especially not with the commotion around you, individuals bumping into each other. In the distance you saw a hand waving, a familiar hand that was decked out in maybe a thousand silver rings, all with intricate designs that could only be seen from up close. Next thing you see is Hyunjin jumping, the bedazzled hand belonging to the long haired blonde male that always made sure to use the most expensive perfume. You made your way over to him, the male smiling brightly as he sat down on the edge of the cubical sofa, the other males being around the table that Felix was lying unconscious on just a brief moment earlier. The table was filled with half empty beer bottles along with red glimmering packs of cigarettes that belonged to some of them. Hyunjin patted the seat next to him, scooting closer to Jeongin that was ruffling his slightly sweaty hair, putting the bottle green top against his lip and taking a sip, his adam's apple moving as he swallowed. 
Hyunjin was different, different from anyone else in this place. You’d expect him to have the best life imaginable due to his family background. His father was the CEO of an influential business and his mother being his fathers assistant, both living a lavish life and providing for their only son, Hyunjin. But no amount of wealth can buy happiness. You don’t know the entire story but what you have heard when he was drunk and barely able to speak is that he was bullied all throughout school, struggling with the pressure being put on him by his parents to become a businessman just like his father. It ate Hyunjin alive to everyday go to sleep and feel like a failure that wasn’t able to live up to his parents expectations. He wasn’t worth this lifestyle he thought as he mindlessly doodled on the edge of his college application papers, it was easier to end it. He felt like a coward, always taking the easy way out but that’s how he’d lived his entire life. Getting help wasn’t an option, it would bring shame upon the family if anyone found out that he went to therapy and besides, his family didn’t believe in mental illnesses, it was simply to “go on a run” to feel better. “Then why the fuck am I not feeling better? I’ve ran miles but my mind runs faster” he wrote in the small black notebook he kept in his bedside table, hiding it together with his cigarettes under piles of papers and books. That’s how he ended up here, being together in a little group consisting of Chan and Minho along with some other people that had already departed from the place he felt the safest. 
You gave a smile to Hyunjin, grabbing the beer bottle in front of him, earning a little “hey!” from him but you drank it anyway as you laughed at his reaction, the bitterness spreading throughout your mouth. You exhaled, putting the bottle down harshly, the loud sound being drowned out by the music. Hyunjin laughed along with you, he seemed kinda distant, his pupils dilated. With furrowed eyebrows you looked at the other boys that looked back at you in a confused manner. 
“Something wrong y/n?” Seungmin asked, his cheeks slightly red from the heat that was radiating off everybody in the room, the tension heightening the temperature. Your eyes landed on Minho who looked equally as dazed as Hyunjin, looking up at the ceiling as the crown of his head rested against the dark walls in an uncomfortable manner. 
“You guys definitely did something” you said to which Hyunjin laughed, now stealing Minho’s drink since he was completely immersed at how the colors changed. 
“Of course we did,,, if we were gonna do it, why not here?” he said, looking at you through hooded eyes, his gaze sharp as pin needles, the black smudged eyeliner around his eyes not making it easier to escape the way you drowned in them. It was true, here was the place where you could be yourself, do whatever you pleased and act reckless as long as you didn’t hurt anybody, a rule Minho found difficult. It’s not that he wanted to hurt people, it’s just that he couldn’t help himself. Something bad was gonna happen if he didn’t. So that’s what the switchblade was for, not to hurt anyone but just in case he needed to add another felony to his list. You didn’t even wanna know what substances that ran through his veins but you felt bad for him. He was a slave to his own thoughts, sometimes even his own actions. He had no other choice but to obey them, do everything that the voices whispered faintly into his ear, a serenade of revenge to everyone that has never believed in him, considered him a shame and neglected him. No, not him. His inner child. 
Seungmin grabbed the red carton of cigarettes, the crimson wrapper unfolding itself when he opened the lid and grabbed one of the deathsticks whose orange ends were looking up at him. He picked one up, putting it to his lips and patting down his sides in search for a lighter but to no avail. He sighed out of the corner of his mouth, gesturing towards Hyunjin by flicking his pointer finger upwards, the blonde boy reaching over to his pocket and retrieving a white lighter that he put on the glossy mahogany table and scooted across it, Seungmin grabbing it as it nearly fell to his feet. He thanked Hyunjin by lazily saluting with two fingers before igniting the cigarette, the deep purple fading out into a light orange at the tip of the flame, the smoke evaporating around Seungmin as he puffed, exhaling straight ahead of him, poor Jeongin beside him coughing. 
“What’s even the purpose of these?” Jeongin said, grabbing the packet and examining it closely, twisting and turning the small box.
“What’s the purpose of your life?” Seungmin answered with an evil laugh, you wanting to bend over the table and smack him across the face for talking like that to the youngest. Jeongin shrugged his shoulders, smirking at Seungmin.
“Touchè I guess” he said, a smile hiding his pain. “Can I get one?” he said as he nudged Seungmin on the shoulder, the boy already taking his second puff. Seungmin didn’t answer, simply placing the cigarettes and Hyunjin’s white lighter in front of him. You stared at Seungmin in disbelief for a moment before throwing yourself over Hyunjin’s lap, grabbing the two objects and clutching them tightly in your hand. Hyunjin flinched at the sudden commotion, all the boy’s eyes were on you, tilting their heads like confused puppies. 
“Don’t you even dare Yang Jeongin” you said, him looking at you with twinkling innocent eyes. He nodded and you turned your head back to Seungmin. “And you, no actually all of you, quit it” you said, a moment of silence flew by before all of them bursted out in laughter.
“fucking,,, tell that to your boyfriend first” Minho said, him finally awake from his trance “if you manage to get him to stop then we’re all with you y/n” he said, laughing, his two front teeth poking out like a rabbit. You sighed, looking at the four boys but noticing Chan was missing. 
“Where’s Chan?” you asked, Seungmin shrugging as he exhaled grey smoke again.
“He hasn’t arrived yet,, don’t know what he’s up to” he answered, putting the orange end to his plump lips, pink in color but this being impossible to see in the changing neon lighting. “I wonder how Lixie is doing,,,” he added with a sigh. Good you hoped, the last three months have been nothing but a downward spiral to hell for the boy, everyday the gleam from his eyes got duller and duller until they were matte with fatigue. You remember a distinct moment that happened in the first couple of weeks in the club, you still getting to know the peculiar characters that moved around in this place. Felix was sitting in the bar, you sitting right next to him, the whole conversation was difficult to hear due to the music and chatter from people but you guys made do. 
“You know that song? By Radiohead?” he said. You shrugged and shook your head.
“Which one?” you asked, taking a sip from your drink that was unfortunately made by another bartender, Changbin not being there yet. 
“That one where they sing ‘I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul’” he said with a giggle, grabbing his glass and taking a swig of the poison in his glass, decorated with lemons and limes. You laughed with him, not knowing what he meant, thinking he was just spewing random words at you from being intoxicated. 
“Yeah, what about it?” you said, the young boy’s smile fading away as he gulped, placing down the drink. 
“I don’t know,,, I often listen to it on the bus or home alone,,, it tells me something but I can’t place my finger on what exactly” he said with a loud sigh, resting his cheek on his hand that was bent against the dark wooden bar. 
“Isn’t it the lyrics?” you said, “the fact that you want to be perfect in every way?” Felix hummed for a minute before nodding his head slowly. 
“It’s not even that I want to be perfect because that’s what society taught me,,, it’s because I live in a false reality where I believe that people will love me and appreciate me more if i tweak everything” he blurted out, going silent and sipping his drink slowly. 
“I’m happy that you know that it’s false but,,, what’s stopping you?” you asked, looking at the boy whose eyes were gazing at the wooden stick inside his drink, stirring it over and over again. 
“Because,,, if I stop,,, I won’t be sick enough” 
The both of you got silent after he remarked those words. Felix got silent because he thought he’d said something wrong. You got silent because you knew how that felt, that someone was going through your struggles. 
“You don’t prove anything by that Felix. I k-know this is gonna sound stupid and you’ve heard it so many times but,,, just know that I love you no matter how you look. I’m happy that you’re here Lixie” 
You looked at him and his dark brown eyes met yours, glittering once again, rounded as if he’d heard the best news of his life. He opened his arms and you stood up on the floor, hugging him and squeezing him by the sides.
“I’m happy that you are here too y/n” he whispered in your ear, barely audible from the loud bumping of the music. You pulled off the hug and shimmied up the bar stool again, putting the transparent glass edge to your lips and feeling the liquor trickle down your throat. 
“I was thinking of getting those words tattooed on me but now that I think about it, I want those words tattooed on me but with a big red x over it.” You smiled together with him, his dimples being carved into those freckled cheeks along with his bleak eyeshadow, his lips a cherry tint. 
“You should.”
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“Oh fuck-” you cursed as you woke up on your living room floor that was covered in dust and crumbs that was a trail all the way to the kitchen. You sighed every time you were back in reality, in the cursed world that wanted nothing else but to crush you under its fingertips. A patter was heard from outside, gentle raindrops decorating your windows as they were falling from the dusky skies. The rain was at least better you thought, in the sun you felt immense guilt for not being as happy as everyone around you, scrolling through your phone and seeing pictures of old classmates on trips and drinking out in the basking sun, wearing sundresses and hats. Being picturesque.
You made your own fun. Late wine nights and therapy appointments early in the morning where you get drilled with information that you could actually use to get better but you decide to cancel it all out. It was impossible to take in. Or maybe you wanted this now? Like Felix said, you wanted to remain sick enough even if there is no such thing. It used to be about not wanting to leave your comfort zone as odd as it sounds. You had struggled with your mental health for as long as you could remember and getting better would mean that you would have to make active changes in your life that at the moment didn’t seem appealing. But now it wasn’t about that. It was about Changbin. Getting better would mean that you would have to leave him, not only him but all the other friends you made at the club for the last months. They felt closer than family especially since you’d barely had one in the past. You wanted to stay by Changbin for forever but did you want to suffer for just as long?
Little did you know, Changbin didn’t. 
You stood up from the wooden floorboards, stepping closer to the balcony door and seeing the rain cover the streets, lonesome people walking with umbrellas and rain jackets through the storm, probably on their way home to a delicious home cooked meal, a comfortable bed and a stable mind. You only had one of those things but you, in contrast from before the club, didn’t get jealous when you saw those people down at the rainy street. You had your own happiness that was Changbin.
Every time you said his name your heart started racing, your knees almost bent underneath you as you walked back to the couch, no lights turned on in the entire odorous apartment. With a thump you fell with your back against the comforting material, once again being swallowed by a fort of pillows and clothes that you haven’t been bothered to put away. The tv display stood blank, your silhouette reflecting in the matte sheen of the screen, your face almost hanging low with boredom. What was there to do when you weren’t in Changbin’s secure arms? 
It was as if his name rolled off your tongue. Smooth as butter, sweet as syrup. You closed your eyes, eyelashes fluttering against your cheek, tickling the sensitive skin on your face. Underneath your lids pictures flashed by in bright colors, not from imagination but from memory. The pictures radiated their energy through your entire body, sending shivers down to the tips of your toes as you saw the faces of your best friends and boyfriend, their smiles creating red apples on their cheeks. 
You wondered how many of those smiles were fake. 
A wave of arousal shot through your body as remembered the events that took place before Jisung had a chance to ruin them, how Changbin grunted next to your ear, his hot breath teasing the shell of your ear as he whispered, the movements of his hips going from rolling to pounding, the room filling with the lewd noises of skin slapping against each other accompanied with your tiny whimpers, pleading him to make you cum. You couldn’t help but to rub your legs together, shifting in the grey sofa that was decorating your trash pile of a living room, the other decor pieces being empty bottles and white used tissues that were tiny houses to your tears. You peeked down quickly, seeing that you were still in your party clothes that consisted of a shirt and a short skirt that was sitting kinda lopsided on the base of your hips, hugging your skin tightly. With a rapid hand you removed the garment by unzipping it by the side, kicking the fabric towards the end of the couch with your feet that were bare, you managed to toss your sneakers away whilst you were deep in your imaginations. Except for the bright colors in your mind, the rest of the apartment was dark, not a single light being switched on. Your light source for many of your lonesome nights were the grey poles on which a bulbous light hung, a so-called street light. The blue cold light shone inside, deep dark shadows being casted on the walls by the trees that decorated the sidewalk. 
Lines started to blur between the real and the fake, not sure if you actually felt Changbin’s hands wrapped around your neck or if it was just yet another illusion your mind has decided to put forward. You could feel the warmth from his hands surging down your neck, soothing your heart in a comforting way. It was as if you were being held in a way that made your blood run south, loved and aroused at the same time. It was as if a ball of warmth bubbled inside you, encapsulating you in its aura of happiness and distraction, your hand teasing the the skin on your lower abdomen before it plunged beneath the small pair of cotton panties that had been violently pulled off by your boyfriend some time ago, exactly how much was something you couldn’t tell, the universe simply didn’t allow time. 
Time is an arrow. 
It always goes forward. 
Under the thin elastic your fingers started moving on their own, like they knew what to do, almost imitating what Changbin had done so many nights prior to this one on that murky couch. You couldn’t help but to wonder if he missed you right this moment. Was was he doing? What was he thinking? You wondered if he thought about you whenever he pleasured himself, if it was your name that echoed in the four empty walls of his broken down apartment whenever he came. The thought of his hand wrapped around his cock as he groaned made you sweat, the skin on the underside your knees sticking to each other as your knees were bent, soles flat against the frowning sofa. Automatically you spread your legs, one resting against the wallpapered surface as the other one hung out from the edge of the sofa. With your middle finger you felt the slippery surface, gathering your slick as you swiped up your finger, coating the sensitive bud in stickiness. You clenched around nothing, thinking about how Changbin whispered his praises in a sweet tone like a serenade.
“You’re doing so well y/n, fuck,,, you’re so pretty princess”
You nodded despite there being no one to see, small whimpers forcing their way out of your throat as two fingers circled your clit, spreading one pussy lip with a third finger, widening the area of contact. Your spine arched at anticipation, a faraway feeling approaching with quick strides as you squirmed your hips, butt digging into couch cushions as your gently pinched your slick-covered clit. Your hole was practically begging for more, velvety walls throbbing for pleasure that you didn’t mind giving, slowly inserting your middle finger, followed by a second finger, hissing at the initial stretch and getting used to the feeling, wiggling your fingers inside just like Changbin always does but his fingers filled you up better accompanied by the small marks he left all over your torso and tits, sucking on your delicate nipples with his wet tongue, leaving a trail of saliva as he licked around the valley of your tits, the ticklish feeling causing you to throw your head back. 
“f-faster binnie” you said into thin air, there being no one to answer your request except your fingers that started going faster in and out of your squelching hole, using your thumb to nudge on your clit, desperately trying to move it in circles and moaning as pleasure built up in the pit of your core. You licked your lips, coating them in a thin sheen of spit, imagining his soft lips pressing up against yours, his tongue coaxing yours as he licked your bottom lip, nibbling on it before slipping it into your mouth, the soft surface meeting yours, a languid kiss being exchanged as he panted into the kiss, you whining gently in between breaths. Your hair stood in a mess as you rubbed your head against the fluffy pillow under you, a couple of stray pieces sticking to your forehead that was covered in a lustre of sweat, reflecting in the small amount of light that was looming in the room together with you. Your mind blurred with lewd scenes with him, curving your fingers inside you in order to reach your g-spot and being startled by your own moan when you did, it simply felt too good, especially when thinking that it was his fingers that plunged into your wetness. 
“Just a little bit more y/n,, o-oh shit,,, f-fuck i’m gonna cum”
His voice ringed in your ears, it didn’t have to be loud to be memorable and make your head spin with pure amativeness. Your fingers started to hurt from how vigorously you were pumping them inside yourself, bringing yourself to the edge as you imagined that it was Changbin’s cock, twitching and begging from release, wishing he would cum inside you and paint your walls in his milky white cum, the hot liquid oozing out of your swollen pussy. Your clit throbbed, your breathing getting uneven between your parted lips, your hand being slightly restricted by the fabric of your underwear. 
“Cum for me baby”
It was an automatic response. Your hips convulsing upwards, high-pitched moans bouncing off the walls as you continued to tease your clit, pulling out your fingers and rubbed the swollen bud up and down into overstimulation until you it hurt, your eyes tightly squeezed, small droplets of tears teasing the corners of your shut orbs. The high washed over you, from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes, every body part rushing with adrenaline before coming down in a state of repose. Slowly you withdrew your hand from beneath the fabric, the elastic snapping gently against your skin, fingertips glistening with your juicy release that now also coated your panties as it rubbed against the inside fabric. You slowly opened your eyes, vision blurry before focusing correctly, seeing nothing but darkness and vague outlines of objects. Night had fallen. You sighed, you were alone.A part of you wished at Changbin had been there whenever your glittering doe-eyes sprung open, your plushy lips being met with his but alas you couldn’t get everything in life.
Except that you couldn’t even get anything. At all.
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“Binnie!!!” you shouted as soon as you opened your eyes as you woke up on the floor, looking around confused as your voice echoed in the room. You rubbed your eyes, the familiar automated voice and its words still stuck in your head.
“Uh? Over here y/n”
You heard his voice, the sweet tune hitting your eardrums, you looked at the direction of the sound and noticed that you were lying on the main dance floor. No music. No people. You stood up with wobbly knees, looking around and being shone on by a spotlight on the ceiling, watching Changbin drying off a couple of glasses with a kitchen towel, a brown apron sitting snugly around his waist, another piece of useless fabric that hid his well-sculpted body. 
“W-why is there no one here? Are we glitching again?!” your voice panicked as your gaze was busy, landing everywhere from the meaningless neon green exit sign pointing to nowhere to the colorful transparent liquor bottles on the shelves behind your lover. Changbin let out a little snark as he put the glass down, throwing the cloth over his shoulder and leaning on the wooden bar counter.
“No y/n, sometimes many people are busy and that’s when you don’t teleport here,,, you know that already”
You let out a small “oh” in realization before walking over to the bar and throwing yourself into a chair lazily, tapping the table with your pointer finger twice, a quiet signal for help. The kind that alcohol provided. Changbin didn’t say anything, simply scooping some ice into a low glass with pretty carved out details at the bottom, the black haired boy filling up the glass with whiskey, the brown liquid seeping between the cubes of frozen water. It was oddly silent in the club, not from the fact that there wasn’t anyone else there but there was this awkward feeling between the two of you, as cold as the ice cubes that the champagne bottles were resting inside a iron bucket full of ice underneath the bar on one of the shelves. 
“So uhm,,, was everything alright yesterday?” he asked in a low voice, peering at you through hooded eyelids as he tilted the glass, pouring another liquor bottle and pouring the substance in. 
Memories of the night prior flashed past your eyelids causing you to almost choke on your saliva. Changbin looked at you suspiciously, furrowing his eyebrows as he put the glass on the coaster in front of you, watching you gulp down the poison. He had something on his mind, the words were basically danging off his pink lips but he hesitated, something stopped him every time he tried to open his jaw and let the words pour out in a puddle of word-vomit on the floor. The words were lodged in his throat like a boulder, he didn’t know how to say it.
“Something wrong binnie?” you asked with a confused expression, your eyes filled with concerned. What if something had happened in a universe you couldn’t even reach, the boy wandering alone with his concerns? 
You took another sip from the glass, frowning as the alcohol stung your tongue and descended down your esophagus like a ball of fire, observing the contents that you were drinking partly because you were interested in what concoction your boyfriend had made but mostly cause you didn’t want to look him in the eyes in this frigid atmosphere. He shook his head, giving you a non-verbal answer. 
You didn’t believe him. 
By the way his jaw clenched to the awkward posture as he stared at you, he had something to confess and you weren’t sure if you were ready for it, thinking that maybe it would be easier to not ask about it anymore and live in oblivion. 
“Come on~ I know you well enough to know that something isn’t quite right” you said, resting your chin in the palm of your hand, eyeing your boyfriends godly figure, practically drooling over him on the spot. 
“Hmm,,, y-yeah ok,, I do have something to say but,,, I’m not sure how to” he started, your heart starting to beat faster with each syllable he pronounced, thinking that this was the end of your world because he was indeed your entire world. The reason you still smiled.
“Just say it baby, I won’t be angry” you said but not sure if you could keep your promise. 
“I got a place at rehab” 
You started laughing sarcastically, the boy standing perplexed behind the counter. 
“Wh-what’s so funny?” he asked shortly after. 
“You obviously said no, right?”
Silence erupted throughout the establishment, your smile was wiped off your face as you waited for an answer but you felt the tears start bubbling up in your glossy eyes as the silence went on, brimming and coaxing to fall down onto your warm cheek, his expression was blank, a canvas without a paint. In a rage of fit you threw your glass at the nearest wall, the glass shattering in a million pieces just like your heart, impossible to glue together. 
The ice cubes melted on the floor, liquid splattered on the dark glossy floor. There was no saving the broken pieces, it was simply to throw it in the trash. You couldn’t blame Changbin for being startled, backing to the wall that displayed the bottles of alcohol, small lights above them causing the flasks to reflect tiny fractals.
“What the fuck do you mean Changbin, huh?!” you yelled at him, salty tears streaming down your cheeks, hanging off your quivering lips. He could only exhale loudly from his nose, his dusky complexion losing its color the more stressed he got. 
“No, what do you mean? Are you actually serious about letting me rot in my life and not take help when I’ve finally gotten it?” he said, his tone growing louder with each word, him practically growling like a feral wolf. You couldn’t believe the word coming out of his lying mouth. Rot in his life? Why? He had you now. You were all he needed, right?
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier then?” Your voice was expressionless, a string tinted red with betrayal laced in your tone. 
“I was scared.”You scoffed, feeling the frustration in the pit of your stomach like a heavy weight, tears glittering in the bright lights that were on currently, shining down on you as if another dimension had opened. 
One without Changbin. 
With dark eyes you looked at him, a dumbfounded smile causing the corners of your lips to turn upwards, tasting the salt of your sadness as a droplet rolled down and into your mouth. “
I never want to see you again Changbin”
“Don’t say that y/n, p-please don’t say that.” 
His voice was drowsy like he hadn’t slept in days, your theory being more believable as you saw the dark bags under his blank eyes. He had been worrying, worried for your reaction. He took off the apron and put the kitchen towel on the nearest surface before hurrying to exit out through the gate and took strides towards your standing figure but you distanced yourself every time he got closer. You felt yourself getting smaller and smaller as his shadow towered over you, his face not showing compassion but rather irritation. 
“GET AWAY!!” you screamed in a ear-deafening screech, him barely flinching as he had seen worse things in his life than his heartbroken girlfriend getting pressed up against a wall with dark streaks of makeup and tears staining her face, plagued by treachery that was brought upon by the only one she trusted in her life.
Maybe this was deeper than just your boyfriend leaving you. Maybe this was a silent cry to stay and not leave like your father once did. Sure, he was around in your childhood but that’s the thing; he was around, never actively invested in what happened in the life of his child. You didn’t like to look into it. Hell, you barely wanted to talk about it but you couldn’t help but to wonder if that was the reason as to why you had a difficult time with goodbyes. It replayed memories, memories you’d rather forget. Or wish you never had in the first place. 
“The fuck-” said a recognazible voice that belonged to Minho, the male staggering out of the toilets in a hungover haze, scratching his hair as he yawned.
“Huh,,, how long have you been there?” Changbin said, him turning his head to look at Minho whilst standing mere inches from you, sandwiching you between his body and the dark walls. 
“I have no idea,,, just woke up and heard a scream” he replied lazily, still not really registering the situation that was unfolding in front of his very own eyes. You glared at Changbin before pushing him by the shoulders, thinking you would make a big impact but him only losing his balance for a few seconds, with fierce steps you bolted to Minho, the boy sliding his hand down into his pocket the closer you got causing you to stop dead in the tracks. 
You’d rather be heartbroken than deceased. 
“Did you know about this? Did you know that this motherfucker was going to fucking rehab?!” you yelled hysterically towards the boy that picked up a packet of cigarettes instead of a switchblade. He smirked as he put a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, not breaking eye contact with you for a second throughout the entire process, almost hypnotizing you with his looks. 
“Yeah,,, we all knew” that devilish smirk only signaling that he liked the pain he saw in other people, the white lighter in his hands flicking and emitting an orange and purple flame that slowly burned the tip of the deadly stick. 
You wanted to scream on the top of your lungs, break every single one of the bottles on the shelves in a fit of rage before breaking Changbin’s heart, shatter it in pieces and step on it like glass even if it would make shards stick to your wounded and bloody feet. But that’s life. You can never hurt someone without getting hurt back. 
“And so you all decided to be on his side? To defend a liar was the best your stupid fucking head could come up with?” you couldn’t even filter your words, whatever came to your mind rolled off your tongue as smoothly as the words “i love you” once had. 
“Hey y/n! Don’t say that! He had nothing to do with it” Changbin roared, stepping closer with his heavy black boots that could probably smash someone against the concrete by the telephone booth where thousands of stray souls wandered every hour of the short 24 hours we humans have in a day. He put his hand on your arm but you shoved him away, freeing your hand from his grasp and yelling inaudible words at the boy. 
“And that’s why you don’t date a psycho, am I right Changbin?” Minho laughed, lodging the cigarette between his pointer- and middle finger, blowing the smoke towards you as a careless gesture. Changbin looked done, rolling his eyes at the other boy before shaking his head, his hair bouncing in a fluffy manner as he moved. 
“Not now Min” he answered simply, keeping his composure but you on the other hand were boiling with anger, feeling your heartbeat in your ears. You let out a half laughter filled with sarcasm.
“Somehow the real psycho has the audacity to say that to me, huh? Who the fuck do you guys think you are? You guys think it’s cool to live like this?” you said, your voice becoming frail at the end of your sentence, breaking as new tears weighed on your eyelashes and dropped down on the floor beneath you. 
“No we don’t y/n and that’s why Changbin is getting help. Don’t you see it? You are hurting him by keeping him here.”
Minho’s words stung more than a thousand needles piercing through your raw flesh. 
He was right.
The entire relationship rested on a foundation of suffering that you fed with repeatedly withdrawing from help that could make you blossom into the person you once were. Deep down you knew that this relationship was impossible, you knew it before you even fell for him but the thing is that you didn’t choose to fall in love, it happens. There’s a reason as to why it’s called ‘falling in love’, because once you’ve jumped you can’t expect to stand on the top of the cliff again. Only at the view from halfway down do you realize that maybe this wasn’t the right time and space. 
You looked at Changbin that held his hands out, wanting to hug you and make everything feel alright, like it was before and you couldn’t help but to melt at how his eyes rounded, twinkling by the thousands of lights around the room and reflecting in his teary eyes. With the arm of your sleeve you wiped off the tears, makeup rubbing off on the fabric but you couldn’t give less of a thought before Changbin wrapped his hands around you, tears falling at a rapid pace as you sobbed into the neck of your boyfriend, breathing in his musky scent that infiltrated your bloodstream and made your heart stop for just a brief moment before pounding harder than before, powered by longing. 
“I’m s-sorry Changbin” you said in between sobs, words coming out in broken syllables, it was difficult forming a sentence let alone an apology. Changbin shook his head as he put his hand on the back of your neck, descending down and rubbing your back soothingly.
“Don’t apologize y/n, you didn’t do anything wrong” His voice ran down your spine, the boy pulling away from the hug and holding you by the shoulders, looking deeply into your eyes as he spoke. 
“I love you and I will never forget you”
You nodded, your face in distress with tears and snot, puffy eyes looking back at him. 
“W-when are you leaving t-then?” you asked timidly to which Changbin responded by breaking eye contact.
“In two days.” You sighed, not sure if you should be sad. What kind of partner tells you that important of an announcement just two days prior? But you understood, he was just as scared as you. 
Scared of the unknown. Alcohol had been a part of his life for a long time, it was his comfort and now suddenly he needed to adapt to a life without it, a life in sobriety. You weren’t the only scared one. The both of you heard Minho picking up the shards of glass with his bare hands, throwing it in the trash as he smoked, not even needing to remove the cigarette from between his lips in order to exhale the smoke, grey clouds billowing out of the corner of his mouth and filling the area with the scent of over 70 harmful substances. 
In the distance you heard footsteps coming from the dark room that was pretty much the only private space in the building, Felix and Jisung walking out, their expressions changing from happy to confused upon seeing your face and Minho cleaning up. 
“W-what,,,” Jisung started but Minho put his pointer finger to his lips before removing the cigarette from his lips and mouthing to the younger boys.
“He told her”
Both Jisung and Felix nodded slowly, their eyes big as saucers as they mouthed a small “oh” back before casting a glance at the two of you, two bodies melting in a touch that could be the last one.
“What will I do without you Changbin?” you said, looking down at the ground. He sighed before smiling at you. 
“What you’ve always done y/n,,, fight for yourself because one day you will make it” he said, cupping your cheek in his hand and swiping his thumb across the tears on your cheek, the dampness remaining on the rough pads of his thumb. 
“B-but don’t worry y/n! It’s in two days,,, maybe I’ll be back tomorrow” he said, you seeing that the boys nodded their heads in the corners of your eyes. 
“Alright,,, I’ll trust you,,, I always do”
“You guys can go and I don’t know,,, talk in that other room,,, we’ll take care of stuff out here” Minho said, flicking the ashes off the end of the cigarette one last time before throwing it in the sink, the boy standing in the bar together with the the other two boys. You and Changbin nodded, making your way past them and entering the dark room that had now become a place where only memories live. With hesitance you sat down on the couch, Changbin doing the same. You glanced over at him, slowly tilting your head against his shoulder and exhaling loudly through your nose. 
The momentary silence wasn’t awkward. It was comforting. 
Silence was what this place needed, moments away from everything related to partying and drinking until your liver failed. 
“Do you remember the first time we met?” he said with a laugh, you giggling with him.
“Of course I do, it wasn’t even that long ago but,,, it feels like forever.” 
He nodded, glancing at your hand for a moment before grabbing it, his warm hand wrapping around your cold one, lacing his fingers with yours. 
“I don’t want you to leave binnie,,, t-this is unfair.” Tears started bubbling up in your throat again, your breathing getting unstable as your gaze was fixed on the ground. 
“I don’t want to leave either y/n but,,, what if we meet in the right dimension? What if that’s what happens? That when you,,, start loving yourself for who you are,,, maybe that’s when you meet the one that will continue to heal you?”
Changbin’s words made a lot of sense. Nobody knew what happened to the people that descended to the real world again. What adventures they were on or who they were loving at this point in time so maybe that did happen. It made you smile, your heart filled with hope, something you hadn’t felt since he said those doomed words earlier. You turned to him, his lips lingering dangerously close to yours to the point where you could feel his hot breath brushing up against the apples of your cheeks. He leaned in, attaching his lips on yours one last time, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear and holding you by the back of your neck, his thumb caressing the knuckles of your hand. You kissed him back, slipping your tongue into his mouth in a deep exchange of saliva intertwined with yearning. The kiss formed an even pace, you tilted your head to the side causing the kiss to get intense, his wet tongue gliding against yours, your pout swelling as he bit your bottom lip, blood rushing into it. He could almost feel yours eyelashes fluttering against the bridge of his nose. He pulled away, landing a final peck on your soft lips before nibbling the inside of his cheek in nervosity, unsure as to why he was nervous in the first place. Maybe the thought that he would never kiss you again. You put your hands around him, rubbing your dark tinted cheeks against his shirt that was luckily in a darker color as well. He smelled like home, like comfort.
A murky scent mixed with tobacco and ephemerality.
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 You haven't seen Changbin since that day. 
“How have you been y/n?” said the woman sitting opposite you, tapping her pen against the A5 block of secrets that rested against a folder that has your name on the side, filled with results of various psychological tests. You shrugged your shoulders, looking out the window where the ivys growed over the glass.
“I’ve been alright,,, although I miss someone” you answered, your eyes meeting the curious ones of your psychologist that observed your body language, your foot shaking in the air as your legs were folded on top of each other. 
“Who do you miss y/n?” she asked. You thought about telling her the truth but then had you ever done that in this office?
“Doesn’t matter,,, Just someone” you answered shortly to which the lady nodded. 
“Longing is a very difficult feeling, sometimes there’s nothing you can do about it since the only thing that will cure it is seeing that person again but of course, that’s not always possible” she said, you observing the marbled pattern on the vinyl floor. You agreed, not knowing what else to do before she started talking about something else that was connected to your well-being, wondering how you are coping with still being on the hunt for a job and having your mental health to care about in the meanwhile. 
The session ended as it always does. By you walking out of the office with an orange post-it note where the next appointment was scheduled in messy writing and with a warm goodbye to your psychologist that was a nice person. It was just that you didn’t really care for her advice and you yet again felt horrible for not taking the help you got when other people in the world couldn’t afford the same experience. The wind hit you in the face as you exited out to reality, out from the solace of the office and the building that held countless of skin-crawling memories. You pulled your jacket closer to your body, walking with quick strides towards the convenience store in order to buy gum and something sweet that could stop the world from leaving a bitter taste in your mouth at all times. A bell above the door tinkled as you stepped into the store, the grey welcome mat being a soft surface to step on with your sneakers. You casted a glance at the staff, seeing the gum you always bought by the cash register and the back of a young man in a black jacket with a baseball cap, looking upwards at the cigarettes and talking to the cashier in a husky voice. You walked past aisles of various snacks and other necessities, hearing the man talking in a voice that made your head spin, sending you into a deja vu feeling.This voice, this very voice was familiar. 
“That one,, yeah,,, thanks! Oh,, just gonna grab something real quick” he said, his footsteps getting closer to you that were hunched over, looking for the banana milk on the lower shelves and squinting your eyes as tried to look further back to see if you missed a bottle by mistake. Your eyes lit up as you saw it, stretching out your hand but in that moment you didn’t feel the cool plastic layer of the yellow manufactured drink but instead a slightly warm hand that was bigger than yours, clad in a couple of silver rings. You quickly apologized and peered upwards, your eyes landing on a couple of dark hooded eyes that made your heart start to race. The lips were plump, a bit dusky in color from the cold weather. A sharp jaw that led to a prominent chin. A triangular nose that connected to a pair of strong bushy eyebrows. A face you had so longed to see. A hand you hadn’t held in what felt like an eternity. There the two of you were, holding the same bottle of banana milk in the flickering light of the store, the coldness emitting from the refrigerated shelves.
It was him.
It was Changbin. 
He was right. 
Only when one decided to heal was it destined for you to meet in a dimensions that was real. A dimension that didn’t consist of an odd phone number and a crimson telephone booth. A world away from the loud music and booze and instead entering a world that had earlier been dark but now got lighter, your tunnelvision ending and objects getting their color back. The world seemed real again. Alive like the way scent of a rose made its way down your lungs and into your blood, feeding the feeling of love from within.
You met him. 
In a different place, in a different time. But you met the same person.
The person you were destined to meet. 
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Taglist ; @minholuvs @liz820​ @skztrashbag @lix-freckle3​ 
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Y'all, it's Whumptober! I'm super excited!
Okay, uh...funny story [and super embarrassing for me] I am a highly unorganized person, I have a calendar in my room, but it's so much easier to check the date on the huge calendar in the kitchen! So, I calculated the days till October in August, and promptly forgot to write prompts and outlines, [even though I pants most of my works].
Fast forward to today, when I see my mom writing down the October events. I was like, oh, she's just reminding herself for next month.
Then I realized.
I literally forgot that September comes right before October.
I literally thought that I had another month to plan ideas.
One of you come whack me on the head, I really need it.
Anywho, let's get on with the show!!
"Come on, Damian! Reach for it." Jason dangled Damian's bottle, inches from the baby's hands. Damian whined and stretched his arms out as far as they would go, attempting to snatch his bottle.  Jason smiled at the child. "Scoot forward. Like this." He demonstrated, pulling his body along with his arms.  Damian stared at him as if he'd grown a second head, then cooed a little.  "Yeah, it looks whack. But come on." Jason shrugged and put the bottle down, wagging Damian's little toy dog instead. On what planet did this qualify as a dog? It looked more like a deformed elephant.  The woman at the store had insisted it was a dog….he had to get Damian some more toys. All the parenting books said that babies needed good toys for development. "Come on buddy, get your..animal." Jason called. Damian laid his head on the quilt and sucked his thumb. Jason snapped a quick picture as the little boy nodded off, tuckered out by 'tummy time'. "Come on Dames, don't fall asleep just yet." Jason said, grunting as he got to his feet. The wound he'd sustained wasn't helping any, and the painkillers weren't working right, thanks to the pit.  Oh well.  "Come on kid, you can't fall asleep on your stomach." Jason rolled the sleepy baby over on his back. Big blue eyes batted up at him, laced with sleep.  Looked like Bruce, a little.  House of Wayne.  Once upon a time, Jason had wanted to use the kid as leverage...but this was a baby, and his brother. He'd realized that, but realized it a little late. Damian deserved to grow up, shielded from batdad's nonsense and in a world without Joker.  Godamn it, Talia was right.  Having a 'family' around him had cleared his head. And screwed up his plans. Majorly. But he wouldn't trade it for anything.  Besides, he'd nearly had Joker's brains splattered against the wall yesterday, right in front of Bruce's face.  He'd make them watch, make them all watch when he pulled the trigger on Joker. For himself. For Barbara.  For Damian. Maybe then, when Joker was dead, he'd present Damian to Bruce. Let Bruce wage war against the House of al Ghul while he and Damian ran for the hills. Then they'd double back and destroy both families. He couldn't kill Bruce, not until Damian was older. Jason was no Willis Todd, he was far from willing to force his brother into a life with no father. Picking sides would be Damian's choice, when he got older. But for now, it was Damian, Jason and Talia against the Joker and Batdad.  Not a hard fight.  Especially when Jason had the upper hand.  "We're gonna be just fine." Jason smiled down at the sleeping baby. "We're already winning." Damian's eyelashes fluttered, and he let out a tiny snore. Jason picked him up and transferred him to his playpen, then wandered out of the living room and into the bedroom that he'd converted into a gym.  A rumble of thunder burst through the room, and Jason paused, hoping it wouldn't wake Damian up. That was pretty loud, for thunder. The ground seemed to shake with the sound.  The pull up bar he'd installed yesterday clattered to the ground, and he flinched lightly as an image of a crowbar flashed before his eyes. It felt as if something had hit him in the back, but he chalked it up to imagination. He was probably imagining the fog around him too.  Some things Joker gave him, he could never get rid of.  But Damian began to cry, loud, hysterical wails that sent fear up Jason's spine. Another rumble broke through the air as Jason sprinted out of the room. A sickening crack ricocheted through the house, and Jason unwillingly moved to the left as something brushed his right shoulder.  A support beam.  "Damian!" Jason had never moved so fast, weaving past and through the falling drywall and wood. He was only feet away from the playpen when Damian's wails choked to a stop, as if someone had turned them off. Through the fog and falling objects, he reached into the playpen and curled around the child, shielding him with his body as he tried to find an exit.  Damian's body was limp in Jason's arms, not a cry or a coo. Jason risked a
glance at the child's closed eyes and pale, dust covered face. He shoved the blanket up to cover Damian's nose and rushed blindly into the direction of the doors. Behind him, a beam fell and what was left of the house shuddered.  An eerie feeling washed over Jason, settling right in the pit of his stomach. Everything went quiet, but Jason tensed, alert.  A hot burst of air slammed into his back, and he knew he'd been right to keep alert. Jason grunted as he was thrown into what was left of a wall, which crumbled, pinning his legs down. His mind fogged like a static TV, and he could feel warm air.  Fire.  Then realization hit.  Damian was no longer in his arms.  "Damian. Damian!" His throat was raw, coated in drywall dust and dirt. But he yelled on, hoping, needing to hear anything from the rubble.  But there wasn't a sound.  Jason pulled his leg from under the rubble and plowed through it to the best of his abilities, climbing over and under and around piles of garbage that had once been a house. There was an odd feeling in his leg, the only other thought that wasn't an urgent repeat of, "Find Damian!". But he quickly suppressed the feeling, because through the fog and dust and smoke, a tiny hand protruded from under a beam. Jason attempted to lift it, but couldn't. Damian was trapped under an air pocket, but any wrong movement would send it all crashing atop him.  A lever.  Jason searched desperately for a board or pole to use as a lever, but saw nothing. But then his eyes scanned over his own leg, and he had to look back at it.  His foot was quite literally facing the wrong way. The odd feeling vanished and became a sharp pain that nearly took his breath away.  Focus, Jason. The League had trained him as a sniper, and he was good at it. He excelled, even.  But all snipers knew how to do one thing. Hyperfixate. And that skill, with the help of adrenaline, might just save both his and Damian's lives.  Jason looked around the room once again, eyeing the position of the beam that Damian was under. If he could manage to get across the rubble, he could crawl into the air pocket and rescue Damian. Jason pulled his body up and over rubble, ignoring the extreme pain that was now burning through his body. At some point, that white agony would get the best of him, but for now, adrenaline was masking most of it.  "Damian!" Jason called again, nearly falling over a piece of wall. His broken leg slammed into a sheet of metal, which dislodged. The beam began sliding, and Jason screamed, unwillingly. He felt his legs propelling him towards where his brother lay, and he pulled Damian into his arms and cringed as the beam fell down around them.  "Damian...Dames." Jason panted as the dust settled, smoothing the dirt off his brother's pale face. The baby was too pale. He had to get him out of here. The falling rubble was controlling the fire, but smoke inhalation would kill them. And Damian had been unconscious for far too long, but there wasn't a single scratch on the child to evidence any injuries. Jason growled in frustration. "Damn it!" His entire body hurt, his leg most of all. Adrenaline was wearing off...the pain was mixing with the green light of the pit, and together they nearly blinded him.  Rage, and pain. Great combination.  He looked around for a way out. It was like a grave. Tight, and hard to breathe.  No Jason.  No.  His breath caught, and he knew he'd just screwed up. There wasn't enough air in his lungs, and he could breathe it in quickly enough. He clutched Damian to his chest and tried to get in a breath, to no avail.  Whimpers punctuated his breath, and the rational part of him could have laughed at himself.  But he couldn't. Whimpers turned to screams, and nothing made sense anymore. He screamed the only name he knew would come for him. "Bruce! Bruce, please!" He could hear his own screams dying out, feel himself losing a grip on consciousness. "Dad! Dad...Bruce…" His voice rasped into a whisper, and he gritted his teeth. "Batman! Dad! I need you! Please...please dad!"  Not a soul
stirred.  "That's right. He's not coming for you." Joker whispered sadistically.  Jason shook his head desperately, tears mixed with blood running down his face. "Shut up, you stupid clown! Please! Bruce. Bruce! Please!"  Like a miracle on Christmas eve, a ray of light shone into their prison, and a familiar shadow fell across Jason, along with another pound of dust. Damian wailed, and Jason shielded himself and the child against the dust, then spiraled into an exhausted darkness.  Four hours later, he pulled himself out of the pit of unconsciousness. "Dami?" Jason slurred, exhausted.  "He's fine, Jay. With Alfred."  That voice.  Jason made an attempt to bolt upright, only to find that he was secured to the bed.  "You have two broken legs, five ribs, son." Bruce muttered, undoing the restraints.  They must have given him some hefty painkillers, since he could feel nothing. "Call me son again-" Jason snarled, his voice cracked and dry. "How am I your son, if you had the nerve to let him live?! I gave you the choice last night, Bruce. Save me, or save him. You threw a batarang at my throat instead."  "Jason-" Bruce looked wounded, his jaw working with words he didn't know how to say.  "No! You don't get to "Jason" me. Not after what you did. You don't deserve to have your son."  "Jason."  Jason looked up at Bruce. "What?"  "I put a batarang in your throat?"  Disbelief surged through Jason. "You didn't know? All those years of aiming those damn things, and you didn't know?" Bruce's face was as stone cold as ever. "No." Jason had probably imagined the look of sorrow on his father's face. It wasn't like Jason meant anything to him anymore. "It only nicked me, lucky for you. Doesn't even matter, I'm alive. Surprising, isn't it? You wanted me dead and him alive. What, you got a crush on him?" He looked away, unwilling to meet Bruce's eyes.  "I hate him, Jason. I just can't kill him."  "You screwed me over Bruce. All this," Jason gestured to himself, "Is your fault."  "You have a son, Jason." Bruce said softly.  "He's not my son. He's my brother." Jason replied, tone dark. "He's your son."  There was a dead silence that almost resonated. Jason chanced a look at Bruce.  For once in his life, the man looked truly stunned.  Did he break him? "Bruce…?"  "Talia's child?" Bruce whispered.  "Yes." A sudden whim forced him to add, "And you can't have him. You're not going to get him killed too." "I wasn't going to make him a Robin."  "Cut the bullcrap, Bruce!" Jason screamed, startling both himself and Bruce. "Yeah, maybe I almost got us both killed, but I've never put a gun or a batarang in his hand and told him to throw it!"  Bruce hesitated before speaking. "It wasn't your fault. The city was destroying a building, and the explosion shook the foundation of other buildings. I couldn't get to you two as quickly as I should have. I'm sorry, Jaybird." Bruce sighed. Sorry. Sorry doesn't cut it, Bruce, Jason wanted to say. "Whatever, Bruce.", was all that came from his throat. "Not the first time you've forgotten me, anyways."  "If I had known-"  Rage surged through Jason. "Save it! Why the hell is he still alive? That's my only question. Why. Isn't. He. Dead? Don't kill him. Fine. But let me kill him. Look at Barbara! Isn't what he did to me enough?! When will it be enough, Bruce? When he murders Damian?" Hands gripped Jason's shoulders, and he stopped his tirade. "Son…" Bruce began, then stopped. Jason could feel his face crumple, not a word slipping past his dry lips. "I can't kill him, Jason. I can't let myself go off that edge. "You failed me, Bruce. When will it be enough?"  Bruce didn't answer. Jason swallowed against the knot in his throat and spoke roughly. "I just want him dead. All I ever wanted was to make you proud...then you left me with him. That, the abandonment, it doesn't even hurt anymore, but I wanted you to kill him. For me." Jason's face twisted into a scowl that thankfully repressed the tears. "Make him die." He spat. "I can't, Jason. I'm sorry Jason. It's meaningless, but I'm
so sorry." Bruce looked physically pained.  He's acting, Jason told himself. "If you're sorry, don't let him hurt anyone else."  "I can't promise that."  "I know you can't. But I can!" Jason yelled, finally. But instead of his rage getting the best of him, it all just evaporated. He felt nauseated, as if someone had punched him in the gut. But all he vomited up were words, words that he shouldn't say. "All I ever wanted was to make you proud...then you left me with him. I don't care about that...but didn't you care about me?"  Bruce's expression darkened to something that Jason had never seen before. "I put the Joker in a body cast for a year. That permanent limp he has is evidence of it. I couldn't bring myself to murder him, because in his dead eyes, all I saw was myself in him. And it was all too peaceful. He tortured you for months. I'll torture him for the rest of his life." Bruce said the words like a vow, determination lacing his tone. Jason stared straight ahead in shock. Silence settled over the room.  "You-when was Joker dead?" Jason finally asked, almost dreading the answer.  "Dick killed him when he found out what happened. I couldn't let him live with the remorse, so I revived him." "Dick….killed him." Jason repeatedly slowly, almost dumbly. He wanted to feel anger that Bruce had brought the damn clown to life, but he couldn't.  "He always had a temper." Bruce said lamely.  Oh great, both of them were shutting down their emotions and verbalization. "Didn't think he'd go that far." "I did. He loves you, Jason."  "Don't talk to me about Grayson. He managed to do what I've been trying to do." Jason managed a rough laugh. "Isn't it funny, Bruce?" Bruce only stared at him, a near pitiful expression on his face.  It wasn't until Bruce hugged him that Jason realized that there were hot tears streaking down his cheeks. Slowly, Jason hugged back, blinking back the stinging wetness of his eyes.  This, all this 'emotional seminar with the Batman' was a total mistake. So Jason let go of Bruce and pushed him a little to regain personal space.  Bruce unsurprisingly was fine with taking back his boundaries. "You're doing alright, Jaylad. You took in a son that wasn't yours and you're raising him."  "I took him in for all the wrong reasons." Jason bit his tongue. "And what are your reasons now?"  "Touchè."  Parents...and adoptive older brothers make mistakes with kids. They fail them and screw them up. But Jason's mistakes with Damian could be fixed.  Jason couldn't. Not until the clown died. "You can always make the present better than the future." Bruce said.  Dammit, old man. "Whatever." Valid points.  Very valid points. "Who else trained you in manipulation?"  Bruce just looked confused. Either this was more manipulation, or Bruce being bipolar by the days.  Whichever one, Jason would try his luck. It was a mistake, destined for disaster.  But he just couldn't help himself.
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Sex Tape
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Pairings: Johnny Depp x Reader
Request: “ If you take requests, would you consider doing johnny reaction to like theirs sex tape getting leaked? Reader may also be a celebrity or not. Whatever you prefer “ - @fanficshitandother 
Warnings: Mentions of sex but no actual smut
Word Count: 1800
A/N: Sorry this one is so short. I was having a harder time writing it than I thought I would. I hope you enjoy!
__________________________________
Shit. 
You knew this was a bad idea when he suggested it but no. He just had to have this video “for when he was away filming.” It always ended like this, though, right? It always started out as fun and games until bam! Celebrity sex tape leaked! 
The gossip talk show video that your best friend had sent you was still playing on your phone and you watched in silent horror as the red haired woman talked about your sex life to her male counterpart as if she had any actual right to have an opinion. In the top corner was a picture of you and Johnny at the red carpet for the premier of the Crimes of Grindelwald, his arm around your waist and both of you smiling for the paparazzi pictures. “Okay, guys. You are going to want to hear this,” She started, clasping her absurdly long acrylic-clad fingers together and holding onto her knees, “So there has been yet another sex tape leaked and I want you to guess who’s it is.” She looked over to her co-host. He had a push broom mustache that was bleached blonde to match his hair. 
The man hummed before waving his hand, which also donned long yellow acrylics, “I swear, Laurel, if this is another Kardashian or Paris Hilton tape, I’m gonna scream. That’s such old news.” 
“Actually, it’s someone that I certainly didn’t expect. Johnny Depp and his wife, Y/N L/N.” She dropped the news and the co-star’s mouth dropped. 
“Are you serious? Like Jack Sparrow, Sweeney Todd, Willy Wonka, Johnny Depp?” He asked in total shock, “I didn’t expect that either! But you know what? I feel like he’d be really good in bed.” 
He and Laurel both laughed, “You’re so bad!” She squealed, hitting him with the paper notes in her hand, “But, between you and me,” She leaned in, as if she was telling an actual secret that wasn’t being broadcast on the internet, “I did see it.” 
“And?” 
“It was pretty hot, I can’t lie. That Y/N is a very lucky girl indeed.” The pair giggled like a pair of school girls. 
You were absolutely mortified. How did this happen? How many people had seen it? Who had seen it? Oh God… all you could imagine was your family stumbling across the video or, debatably worse, Johnny’s kids. This had to be one of the worst moments of your life. 
You turned off the video and quickly dialed your husband. “Hello, love.” He greeted cheerily on the other end. The faint sound of cars passing in the background told you he was probably driving home from the meeting he had been at. 
“Did you see it? Did you hear it?” You asked frantically. 
“What?” He asked, confused.
“The video! The video got leaked!” You ran your fingers through your hair messily, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. 
“What video?” He questioned, not sounding like he fully understood what had happened, but then you could almost feel the weight of realization falling on him, “Wait, our video?” 
“Yes! Our video!” You were yelling at this point, not at him but at the situation and thankfully he understood that. 
“Okay, okay. We’ll- Hang on my manager is calling. Probably to tell me about it. I’ll be home in five minutes. I love you.” He signed off your call quickly before hanging up without giving you the chance to respond. 
While you waited for him to get there, you spiraled down the rabbit hole that was the tabloids and social media. Your phone buzzed off the charts as everyone from your sister to Helena Bonham Carter called you to ask if you were okay. Of course, you weren’t. But it was one phone call from a former college roommate, Sheila, had really gotten your blood boiling. 
“It’s okay! If anything, this is just going to make you more famous! Look at all the other celebs who’ve had their sex tapes leaked. They’re like, super famous.” Sheila sounded more excited than she should have, which certainly made you question her motives behind calling you in the first place. Since marrying Johnny, you’d had the unfortunate displeasure of having to cut a few people off from your past who had randomly called you up after years of little to no contact, asking more favors in the movie industry, money, or even just for the clout of saying they knew you. There really was such a downside to this whole marrying famous person thing that nobody ever really talked about - not that you would take it back, though, of course. You loved Johnny more than anything. 
Still, when the words left her mouth, you felt a flash of anger swell up, “Contrary to what a lot of people might believe, being famous actually kind of sucks,” You spat angrily, “And call me crazy, but I don’t exactly feel thrilled at knowing the whole world as access to a video of my naked ass!” 
“At least it’s a good naked ass, though! Your boobs are looking pretty good too. Did you get them done?” She asked bluntly, still not a care to be heard in her voice. You swore you could almost detect a fake valley girl accent too. 
Your mouth dropped open in disbelief at the words coming from her voice, “I can’t believe you.” Without giving her a chance to respond, you clicked the off button before flipping her off through the screen, though you knew she couldn’t see it. The audacity of some people. 
The front door swung open, drawing your attention as Johnny hurried into the house, setting his bag down by the front door. “How bad is it?” You asked, knowing his manager must have told him the full extent. 
“Do you want the truth?” Johnny saw as panic and humiliation swept across your face, knowing that perhaps that wasn’t the best way to break it to you that it was pretty bad. He stepped forward and wrapped you in his arms, “I told Harrison to take ‘em down. Whenever he found one, he said he’d get it deleted. 
You sighed defeatedly, “That doesn’t stop the fact that a bunch of people already saw it.” Your arms wrapped around Johnny’s torso and you allowed your head to fall against his chest, trying to calm yourself with his scent- exotic spicy cologne and old books. 
His large hand came to stroke through your hair, “That is true,” He conceded with a heavy breath, “But, it also means that fewer and fewer people will continue to see it.” There was a pause in which neither of you said anything, only took a few minutes to hold onto each other while you thought about the future now, “Y’know, I can’t help but feel like this is partly my fault. I shouldn’t have asked to make the video. I’m sorry, Y/N.” 
You shook your head in disagreement, “I agreed to do it too. It’s on both of us. In retrospect, we should have put it on an actual VHS tape or something that would be more difficult to get into the tabloid’s hands.” 
You were tired of this - of this constant running from the vultures that prayed off your every misstep just to turn them against you and create headlining stories. You felt like you couldn’t even breathe without a scandal unless the media allowed it. You were just grateful that you happened to marry one of the most private actors in Hollywood, knowing that whatever pressure you felt, more public figures like Angelina Jolie had it much worse. Still, something inside you stirred, a decision that you’d stop living in fear. 
Johnny pulled back and gave you that infamous cocked eyebrow look of wonder, one that you’d mostly seen him use as Jack Sparrow. Little did everyone know, it was a gesture he’d picked up on doing in real life as well. “Do we even have a VHS player anymore?” 
You chuckled and buried your head back into his white shirt, “I don’t even know. I feel like there must be one laying around somewhere. And if not, I’ll go down to a pawn shop and pick one up just for you to use while filming.” 
“What do you mean?” 
“I mean,” You leaned back, pulling on his shirt to bring him down closer to your level, “That if we’re going to be making you another one of these videos, it’s gonna be on something that stays only between us.” 
Your husband nearly choked on air, “Another one? After what just happened?” 
“Only if you want to and only if it stays on something physical like a CD or VHS that we can mutually agree to burn and destroy if anything happens.” You giggled and Johnny joined in with a low chuckle as well, “But… the video was leaked. We knew that was a risk when we made it. But, y’know what? I’m tired of living in fear of the paparazzi and public. They’ve already seen us fuck. There’s not much else we’ve got to lose.” 
His dark eyes flashed with mischief before he took off in a light jog down the hall without a word. You followed him, “Where are you going?” You giggled, turning the corner to find him digging through your little Harry Potter closet under the stairs. 
When he stood up, he shook his long hair out of his eyes messily and held up an old tape recorder that had to be at least twenty years old. Johnny swayed towards you, jokingly flirtatious as he spoke, “Well, Mrs. Depp, it would seem that you’re in luck because your husband likes to hoard old shit.” 
The grey and black machine seemed to stare at you and some hesitation set in again but then you remembered what you’d said: I’m tired of living in fear… there’s not much else we’ve got to lose. 
Johnny flicked open the side compartment and his eyes opened in surprise to find a tape still in there. He lifted it from the slide and looked it over, shocked to see that it appeared to be an unused blank tape, “Well, well, looks like we’re in luck.” 
Biting your lip, you looked up at him with those eyes before grabbing his hand and running upstairs to your bedroom, dragging him along. “The world thinks they’ve seen us fuck. They only got a preview.” 
“Only a preview? I thought we went pretty hard last time?” He countered with a low challenging laugh.
You turned around at the top of the stairs, one hand on the banister as you turned to face him. His body collided with yours, his hand reaching around the small of your back to steady the two of you and you arched your body into his, being sure to brush your body against his groin, “Oh, Johnny… we’re both throwing our backs out tonight.” 
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morganaspendragonss · 3 years
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white noise, what an awful sound
“Their unit is not on the grid. It’s like they have disappeared.”
If Grace says anything else after that, Carlos doesn’t catch it. A ringing erupts in his ears and he staggers, all the breath sucked out of him. TK’s missing. Not running late, not on his way; missing.
ao3 | 3.3k | 2.08 speculation
It’s more than an hour after TK’s shift was supposed to be up, and he still hasn’t come home.
Carlos doesn’t want to worry; Owen told him that medical caught a call right at the end of shift, so he knows that TK will be pulling overtime. It’s actually worked in their favour a little, because they’ve been able to set everything up for TK’s party in the time they’ve been waiting. But, from what Owen said, it was only supposed to be a simple call, and whilst Carlos knows as well as anyone that the simplest calls can often turn out to be the most complicated, they really should have been done by now.
He sends off a couple of texts, telling himself that TK is just busy and will reply when he can, even though his instincts are screaming at him that something is wrong. By the time they hit the two hour mark, everyone seems to be getting concerned - which, in a house full of first responders, is not something to be taken lightly.
Carlos crosses over to Owen. “Have you heard from TK?” he asks, trying desperately to keep his voice as low and steady as possible.
Owen shakes his head, flashing Carlos a smile which doesn’t reach his eyes. “They’re just running a little over,” he says, and Carlos isn’t sure who he’s trying to convince. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
“But what if it’s not?”
“We can’t think like that, Carlos,” Owen says, not unkindly. “He’s probably just in the shower.”
“He would have texted,” Carlos persists. “You know he would have, Owen. Something’s wrong.”
Owen grimaces, glancing around the room of people, who have started to take notice of their conversation. He sighs. “Try calling him,” he tells Carlos. Then, turning to the room, “Can anyone try and get a hold of Nancy or Tommy?”
“Already did, Cap,” Marjan says. “Nancy’s not picking up.”
“Tommy neither,” Judd adds, and Carlos’s heart plummets as the sound of TK’s voicemail confirms that he, too, is still unaccounted for.
“This isn’t right,” he says, allowing a little desperation to bleed into his tone. He can feel it in his bones; TK wouldn’t leave them hanging like this, especially not on a day like today. Carlos has no idea what could have happened to make all three paramedics drop off the grid, but he knows it’s not just lack of cell service or traffic.
Owen closes his eyes and hangs his head, apparently coming to the same conclusions. “Alright then.” He pulls out his phone, and Carlos frowns.
“Who are you calling?”
Owen sends him a wry look, showing him the three oh-so-familiar numbers he’s dialled. “Desperate times, right?”
Carlos manages a nod, but there’s a lump in his throat at the thought of these being such desperate times that they need 9-1-1. Logically, he knows it’s the right step, but he guesses he still has that little flame of hope left in him - hope he doesn’t want crushed by the confirmation they’re about to receive. Owen places the phone on speaker, and Carlos watches it nervously, waiting for a dispatcher to pick up.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” It’s Grace, and Carlos could cry with relief. If anyone can help them find TK, it’s Grace Ryder.
“Grace,” Owen starts, “it’s Owen.”
“Captain Strand? Is everything alright?”
“We were hoping you could tell us that.” Owen takes a steadying breath, looking once more around their friends, before continuing. “EMS 126 were sent out on a call at the end of our shift, two hours ago. There’s been no word from them since, and we’re worried something’s happened to them. Could you tell us anything about where they were sent and why?”
There’s a brief pause on the other end before Grace speaks again, hesitant and slow. “Captain Strand, that’s not information I’m sure I should be giving out to civilians.”
“I’m not a civilian,” Owen argues. “I may not be on shift, but I’m always Captain of that firehouse. Please, Grace. They’re our family.”
Grace sucks in a sharp breath, then the sound of typing comes through the speaker. Carlos allows himself a single moment of relief before the anxiety takes over again as Grace speaks.
“EMS 126 were dispatched to a pregnant woman in distress,” she reports. “They… Oh.”
Carlos exchanges an alarmed look with Owen, his panic spiking at Grace’s words. 
“Oh?” Owen asks, not even trying to hide the worry in his voice anymore.
“Captain Strand, their unit is not on the grid. It’s like they have disappeared.”
If Grace says anything else after that, Carlos doesn’t catch it. A ringing erupts in his ears and he staggers, all the breath sucked out of him. TK’s missing. Not running late, not on his way; missing. Something happened to him and his team between leaving the firehouse and now, and they’ve all just been sitting here, doing nothing, for two hours. He should have spoken up earlier, when he first got his bad feeling - maybe that wouldn’t have prevented this, but they could be on their way to finding him right now.
And Carlos knows better than anyone here how crucial every second is in a missing persons case.
When he comes back to himself, a hand - Paul’s - is resting on his shoulder, and Owen and Gwyn are locked in an argument, the call with Grace clearly over.
“What’s going on?” he asks, turning to Paul.
Paul shoots him a sympathetic grimace, squeezing his shoulder. “Cap got the address of their last call,” he answers. “He’s insisting on going, but he won’t let anyone else go with him. Gwyn disagrees.”
Carlos stares at Owen, finding himself firmly in agreement with Gwyn, though likely for different reasons. In his mind, it’s a non-issue; he’s going to search for TK, and there’s no-one who can stop him - certainly not Owen Strand.
He strides over to them, not caring about interrupting their quarrel. TK’s life is on the line, after all. “I’m going with you,” he says firmly, leaving no room for argument.
“Son -”
“You can’t stop me, Owen.” He levels him with a hard stare. “Besides, I’m a cop, and you need back up. I’m going.”
Owen watches him for a long moment, then sighs, nodding reluctantly. “Alright,” he says, clapping Carlos once on the shoulder. “Let’s go find them.”
*
Carlos jumps out of Owen’s truck before it’s even stopped moving, flicking on his flashlight as he strides through the garage, praying that he’ll round the corner and find them all in one piece. Behind him, Owen is yelling out for them, the only reply he gets the sound of his own voice echoed back. It sends Carlos’s heart plummeting into his shoes, even as it only confirms what he’s known for a while - they’re not finding TK here.
All they do find is a brown van, all its doors open, and a pile of bloodied rags lying next to it. Carlos refuses to think about whose blood it could be; if he does, he thinks he’ll lose it, and that’s the last thing anyone needs right now, himself included.
“Where would they go?” he asks, turning to Owen. They hadn’t seen the ambulance on the way in, so they must have left in it at some point - or someone had.
Owen shakes his head, a trembling hand running through his hair. “I don’t - I don’t know,” he says, sounding more lost than Carlos has ever heard him. It’s a jarring sight; Owen is usually so put together, so unruffled in the face of emergency, and his appearance now cuts a striking contrast. Carlos understands - much as TK has complained about his parents in the past months, it’s clear they love him, even if they might not be the best at showing it. 
Carlos is sure he looks similarly distressed; his curls are beginning to escape from his fingers running through them, and his heart is pounding a mile a minute, but he tries to school his expression into something stronger, as much for his own sake as for Owen’s.
“I don’t know what to do, Carlos,” Owen admits, body sagging in defeat. 
Carlos hesitates, then pulls out his phone, tapping through to his contacts. “I might,” he says, and Owen looks up at him in surprise. “My dad is a Texas Ranger. He’ll be able to help, I’m sure of it.”
Owen immediately nods, seeming to steel himself up a little. “Do it,” he says. “I’ll call and update the others; I’m sure they’ll want to know.”
He walks away, giving both of them some semblance of privacy to make their respective calls. Carlos pauses for a brief second, glancing down once more at the pile of bloody rags, his mind flashing back to four years ago, the last time someone he loved went missing. He knows - he knows the situations are nothing alike, that Iris’s and TK’s disappearances are worlds apart. But the grief crawling up his throat and clutching at his heart can’t help but make comparisons, warning him that he’s going to lose someone else.
Carlos swallows roughly and shakes his head, dialling his dad’s number before he can start spiralling. Now is not the time to fall apart; he has to be strong.
His dad picks up on the second ring. “Carlos? ¿Qué pasa?”
“Dad,” Carlos answers, surprising himself with how steady his voice is. “I need your help.”
*
They’re on their third dead end of the day, and Carlos can feel his grip on control slipping. 
His dad had tried to get him to leave when he’d arrived at the garage. “You’re off duty; you shouldn’t be here, mijo,” he’d said, attempting to steer Carlos towards Owen’s truck. “Let us handle this now.”
“No,” Carlos had insisted, shaking his dad’s hands off him. “I have to be here. One of the missing paramedics - it’s TK, Dad.”
It had taken a few moments for the penny to drop, his father’s frown growing once it did. “Your friend from the market? I thought he was a firefighter.”
“He switched fields.” Carlos had drawn himself up, staring his dad down. “I’m not going anywhere until I find him.”
Something had flickered across his dad’s face then, something Carlos hadn’t understood. Whatever it was, his expression had quickly cleared, and he’d lain a comforting hand on Carlos’s shoulder.
“Alright, mijo,” he’d said. “You can stay.”
Now, Carlos can feel his dad’s eyes on him as he stares blankly at the building they’d been so sure they’d find TK, Nancy, and Tommy in. It had been empty, because of course it had, and Carlos is starting to wonder if they’re ever going to find them.
They’re supposed to be celebrating right now. TK hadn’t wanted anything special, but Carlos knows he’d secretly been looking forward to tonight, his one year anniversary of sobriety a source of pride for them both. They should be celebrating it; instead, TK could be injured or worse, and Carlos feels like he’s going out of his mind.
(They’d found the ambulance an hour ago, abandoned on the side of the road. There had been blood staining the inside of that, too, and Carlos had had to swallow back bile at the sight.)
His dad comes to stand at his elbow, a hand on Carlos’s back. “So,” he starts, gently, “this TK boy?”
Carlos closes his eyes, desperately wishing for his dad to drop it. He knows what’s coming next, and he knows there’s no avoiding it this time. He doesn’t have the strength to lie.
“Dad -”
“Who is he, Carlos?” His dad’s voice is careful and measured, lacking any hint of judgement, but Carlos still tenses, not fully prepared for the fallout of this conversation.
He avoids his dad’s eyes as he answers, keeping his gaze fixed on the space in front of him. “He’s my boyfriend,” he says. “We’ve been dating for just over six months, and I - I really love him, Dad.”
The last admission is said quietly, but Carlos feels like he’s shouted it, such is the silence that follows his words. His hands start to shake at his sides and a sick feeling begins churning in his gut, but, still, he doesn’t look over.
“Six months…” his dad eventually says, voice strained. “Which means you were together when we met you at the market. Why did you lie?”
A flash of white-hot anger surges through him, tears burning the back of his eyes as he rounds on his dad. “I could hardly tell you the truth!” he cries. “You’ve made it clear you’d rather not hear about my sexuality. I was trying to protect us!”
A sob crawls up his throat, but Carlos pushes it back, determined not to break down in front of his dad’s entire team. His dad’s face is stricken, a surprising emotion glinting in his eyes.
“Oh, Carlos -” he starts, but he’s cut off by one of the Rangers shouting for them. He throws Carlos a look that lets him know they’re not done with this conversation yet, before they both run over to the Ranger, Carlos arriving slightly ahead of his dad.
“We’ve found them,” the Ranger says without preamble.
Carlos stares, the words sending a spark of hope through his chest, but he refuses to give in to it just yet. “How sure are you?” he demands. He knows it’s not his place to ask these questions - he’s barely allowed here as it is - but he doesn’t think he could take one more false lead, one more dead end. The Ranger, to his credit, only momentarily shows his surprise, quickly schooling his expression back into one of firm neutrality. He nods, once.
“Positive.”
And, for the first time since they’d heard the news, Carlos dares to hope.
*
He’ll never get used to this. 
The heart monitor beeping by his side, the smell of bleach, the hardness of the chairs. It’s not something he should really have to get used to, but, with a family full of first responders, hospitals are a fact of Carlos’s life. Especially with a boyfriend like TK, who seems to insist on gravitating towards danger even when it’s no longer his job.
“How do we keep ending up like this, huh?” he whispers, gently running a hand through TK’s hair. 
TK’s asleep, having first woken up around an hour ago. Hopefully, he’ll be discharged later, if all his tests come back okay - which, thankfully they should. 
Carlos’s eyes drift to the bandage around TK’s head, the wrappings around his ribs, the scratchy sheets which Carlos knows covers extensive bruising. They’ve been lucky, he knows this, but he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to forget the sight that greeted him when they burst into that restaurant. Tommy and Nancy were standing by the table, next to an unmoving body, both shaken but unhurt. TK had clearly borne the brunt of the attack, and Carlos hadn’t needed to stop to wonder why; his boyfriend’s too much of a damn hero for his own good sometimes.
Apparently, TK had tried to pull the fire alarm, but had been caught before he could, receiving a blow to the head for his efforts. They’d also broken his nose and several ribs, and his body is littered in marks from the kidnapper’s boots. Carlos’s heart had nearly stopped when he’d first seen TK, cable-tied to a pole and barely conscious, but now he can only thank god that it isn’t worse. 
“Carlos.”
Carlos stiffens as he hears his dad’s voice behind him, dreading the conversation they’re about to have. He tightens his grip on TK’s hand, not yet brave enough to look away from him.
“Hi, Dad,” he says, voice hollow. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”
“Yo también, hijo.” His dad heaves a sigh, footsteps coming closer until he’s at Carlos’s side, easing himself into a second chair. “You know we love you, don’t you?”
Carlos winces. “I know. I’m sorry I yelled at you like that earlier, I was just -”
“No, mijo,” his dad interrupts. Carlos looks up at him sharply, confused by the weariness in his dad’s tone, and he’s taken aback by the sorrow in his eyes. He’s not sure he’s ever seen him cry before, and Carlos doesn’t know what to make of it. “It is me who should be apologising.”
“Dad -”
His dad holds a hand up, cutting Carlos off. “Your mother and I… We have only ever wanted what was best for you,” he says. “When you came out to us - Carlos, I was so proud. I was shocked, yes, but I could see how hard that must have been for you, and I thought you were so brave. We thought that if we carried on as normal, then you wouldn’t feel like anything had changed. Because, to us, it hadn’t. You were still the beautiful son we had always known and loved, and being gay wasn’t going to change that.
“We thought that you would be more comfortable with it like this, but I see now that we made a mistake. I’m so sorry that we made you feel like you couldn’t talk to us about these things. I’d like to change that, if you’re willing.”
Carlos blinks, tears spilling down his cheeks. “You’re really okay with it?” he croaks. “You and mami?”
“Of course we are.” His dad chuckles, rubbing Carlos’s shoulder. “You know what your mother’s like; she’ll be fawning over him as soon as she finds out.”
Carlos manages a laugh, though there’s still a little lingering dread in his stomach at the thought of having to tell his mom. He’ll have to do it, and soon, but he can’t get rid of a decade of uncertainty and fear so easily. At least, this time, he’ll have his dad and his boyfriend by his side.
A groan from the bed pulls his attention, and he looks over to see TK’s eyes blinking open. They immediately seek out Carlos, a frown creasing his brows.
“You’ve been crying,” TK murmurs, reaching a hand up to Carlos’s face, only to freeze before it gets there. TK’s eyes widen, frantically darting between Carlos and his dad. “Uh, Mr Reyes, sir. Carlos said that you helped to find us; thank you.”
“Hey.” Carlos catches TK’s hand, still hovering in mid-air, and smiles at him. “It’s okay, Ty. He knows.”
TK’s lips part in shock. “You told him?” he whispers.
“Kind of had to,” Carlos replies, laughing a little. “I could hardly say I was having a meltdown over a friend, now, could I?”
TK’s face clouds with guilt. “I’m so sorry, Carlos,” he says. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”
“Did you ask to get kidnapped?” Carlos asks, raising an eyebrow.
“No, but -”
“Then you have nothing to apologise for.” He presses a gentle kiss to the inside of TK’s wrist, never breaking their gaze. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”
TK smiles, visibly relaxing. He squeezes Carlos’s hand, then brings their joined hands to his lips, lingering for a long moment. Carlos loses himself in it, his heart aching at the thought that he could have lost all of this today. But TK is here, and he’s going to be okay, and that’s all that matters right now.
A throat clears behind them, and Carlos jumps, turning to look guiltily at his dad.
“I see I’m no longer wanted here,” he comments wryly. Carlos flushes, but his dad just laughs and pats his shoulder as he stands. “I’ll see you soon, Carlos.”
“Thank you again, Mr Reyes,” TK calls. 
Carlos’s dad grins at him. “You take care of my boy, TK.”
TK’s gaze flicks over to Carlos, his eyes full of so much love that it shocks him. “With my life, sir.”
It’s a promise that goes both ways and, as he leans over to kiss his boyfriend, Carlos knows that he’d do anything to keep it.
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gay-otlc · 3 years
Text
Little Miss Perfect
Summary: Straight hair, straight A's, straight forward, straight girl
Straight hair is most beautiful. Straight A's are most successful. Straight forward is fastest. Straight girls are the most perfect. And if straight girls are the most perfect, and Biana is the most perfect, ae has to be straight. Ae doesn't get a choice.
Little miss perfect, that's me
Content warnings: Internalized homophobia, homophobia in general, cursing, mentions of abuse, mentions of eating disorders, lmk if I should add more.
Word count: 3143
(Read on AO3)
Straight hair, straight A's, straightforward Straight path, I don't cut corners
Biana Amberly Vacker is beautiful, and smart, but that's hardly a surprise. Even before ae was born, everyone knew ae would be beautiful, and smart. Ae's a Vacker, after all. Ae wakes up early to straighten aer hair and stays up late to study, so ae's tired all the time, but ae's gorgeous and ae's at the top of aer class, so does it really matter?
Ae takes life one day at a time, one step after another, because if ae slows down or turns around, everything ae's running away from might catch up with aer.
So ae doesn't do that. Biana keeps following the straight path and hopes the road ahead of aer doesn't wind too much. Make sure every step leads aer to perfection.
I make a point to be on time Head of the student council
Not only that, but Biana's on time for everything. Aer parents make sure of that, but ae probably would be even without their help- Biana likes to plan ahead. Or really, ae doesn't know for sure whether ae likes it, or if it makes ae feel trapped. But at least it saves aer the confusion and terror of an uncertain life. Whatever the reason, ae makes little notes in aer planner for all aer appointments.
And bigger notes in aer journal for the rest of aer life.
Make it through Foxfire.
Manifest an ability.
Get a respectable job.
Marry a respectable boy.
Have children.
Step four... doesn't seem so great, by which ae means downright nauseating, but that doesn't matter. What ae wants doesn't matter. And anyway, this will probably be what ae wants in the long run. Ae's just not old enough for boys yet. Plenty of time for that in the future.
Ae'll be on time for every step of aer perfect fucking life.
I don't black out at parties I jam to Paul McCartney
Biana doesn't break rules- mostly because ae's afraid of how aer father would punish aer. Either way, ae's never snuck out at night, never spent time with the classmates he said were beneath aer, never wore something he said showed too much skin, never ate more than ae was allowed to. Every single one of his rules, ae followed.
If that meant not going to Marella Redek's party because her mother was too "strange," even though everyone else was talking about how fun it would be, ae wouldn't go. Ae would just miss out. Fun.
Ae heard that at the parties, they played human music. What would that even sound like? Fitz knew- he got to go to the human world all the time, but Biana didn't. Still, after incessant begging, aer dad let aer listen to one song, by a human named Paul McCartney. It wasn't bad. Quite good, in comparison to elvin music. Still... ae wished ae could listen to more.
Of course, ae wouldn't. That would be disobeying aer dad. And ae didn't do that. She always had to be the perfect daughtaer.
If you ask me how I'm doing I'll say... Well, hmm
Lying wasn't good, of course. Ae shouldn't lie to people who asked how ae was doing.
But ae couldn't admit to being anything less than perfect.
So ae'd just mumble.
Perfect until proven otherwise.
I was adopted when I was two My parents spoiled me rotten
Okay, so Biana isn't actually adopted- but for years, ae thought ae had been. Always out of place in the perfect Vacker family, because everything comes so effortlessly to them, they're exactly what elvin society wants without any struggle at all. And ae... wasn't like that. Too loud, too argumentative, not quite ladylike enough. Not smart enough, ae needed to work harder. Not pretty enough.
Not interested in the right people.
But when ae learned to stay quiet, keep aer head down, and follow all the damn rules, aer parents seemed to like aer better. Well, Alden did. Della always appreciated aer, however quietly, slipping aer little pieces of mallowmelt behind Alden's back even when he told aer that ae had to be thinner. Whispering compliments into aer ears after Alden scolded aer so much his voice was hoarse from screaming and aers was hoarse from crying.
And when Alden was proud of aer, she would get everything ae wanted. All the pretty dresses. All the sparkles and sketchbooks and sewing kits. Trips to Atlantis or Eternalia. Anything ae wanted, to reward her for being Little Miss Perfect.
Often I ask myself, "What did I do?" To get as far as I've gotten
Some of the time- who the hell is ae kidding, it's most, if not all, of the time- Biana feels like... ae doesn't deserve aer last name, or aer popularity, or any of aer privileges in life. Mentors at Foxfire practically revere aer and aer peers bend over backwards to be liked by aer.
Ae is so fucking sick of it.
Why aer? Ae wants to scream the question at every single person who treats aer differently. Why is ae the one to get that treatment? Ae had never done anything important in aer whole fucking life, ae didn't do anything, and all this praise should go to someone far more perfect than aer.
A pretty girl walks by my locker My heart gives a flutter
Biana is, unfortunately, very well known at Foxfire, and ae thought ae knew everyone else too. But ae's never seen this girl before, because ae would know if they had. It would be impossible for past Biana to have seen this girl and not remember her.
She has dark skin, even darker than Biana's, and long dreadlocks pulled into a knot and streaked with blue. Biana thought ae was used to the beauty of elvin girls- they were all quite pretty- but this girl, holy shit, ae was not prepared to see this girl. Her flat nose and full pink lips and turquoise eyes are all so beautiful. Biana's heart pounds and flutters around her chest like it wants to fly out and meet this girl, and aer breath catches.
Maruca Chebota, as ae later learns, is perfection.
But I don't dare utter a word 'Cause that would be absurd behaviour For little miss perfect
The pretty girl continues walking, seemingly unaware that she's thrown Biana's world wobbling out of orbit. Biana wants to call out to her, to yell, to make sure she doesn't walk away and make it so that amazing high, those butterflies and awe and something ae can't even describe, seems almost like it never happened.
But there are a lot of people in the hallways, and they're already staring at aer far more intensely than what ae would describe as comfortable, ready to judge each and every thing she does. Running to catch up with a girl because she's pretty? Not normal. Not normal for any elf, but especially not aer.
Biana silently watches her turn around a corner into a different hallway and out of aer line of sight, wishing ae could have been a little less perfect. Just for one second.
Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na No, I can't risk falling off my throne
Dear Maruca,
I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've been avoiding you lately. I'm sorry I can't talk to you. You haven't done anything wrong, I promise.
It's just... you're dangerous. To my heart, my... my reputation. My throne.
That's not quite true. You're not dangerous to most people. You're just dangerous to me. Maybe you're fine, and I'm just too fragile. Too imperfect.
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la Love is something I don't even know
Dear Maruca,
What if we did love each other? Bravely. Boldly. Unapologetically.
What if I pretended it wouldn't topple me off my throne; or pretended I didn't care?
No. That's stupid. I shouldn't sacrifice all that for love.
This isn't even love, anyway. I don't know what love is, but you aren't it.
Straight hair, straight A's, straightforward Straight girl
Straight hair is most beautiful.
Straight A's are most successful.
Straight forward is fastest.
Straight girls are the most perfect.
Little miss perfect That's me
And if straight girls are the most perfect, and Biana is the most perfect, ae has to be straight.
Ae doesn't get a choice.
One night my friend stayed over We laughed, and drank and ordered
And straight girls would like Maruca, sure, but not in the way Biana does. Not in that all consuming, heart wrenching, feels like ae's floating and falling and spiraling all at once way. Just in a... a friend way. A normal way. Because the two of them would make perfect friends, and anything other than that would end in fiery disaster.
So Biana makes friends with Maruca. Friends. They talk about their Universe class, and play splotching together in PE (Maruca wins; Biana gets distracted by her braids), and horribly bake mallowmelt together. It burns.
Maruca is... fun. It's fun to be friends with Maruca. Ae invites her over to Everglen for a sleepover- Della is overjoyed that Biana is finally making friends- and they have a fun time. Playing games and talking about useless shit and going to go bother Fitz and his friend Keefe.
It doesn't need to be anything different, Biana tells aerself, again and again. It's perfect like this. It doesn't need to change.
Something about her drew me in What? It's totally platonic
Biana can't stop staring at Maruca.
She feels like gravity, a star, and ae feels like a planet. They work perfectly together, orbiting around and around and around. If Maruca smiles, Biana's mind races to solve the mystery of how exactly that smile would taste on aer lips. It tastes good, ae thinks, though that's a stupid thought.
"What are you thinking about?" Maruca asks. "You have this goofy smile on your face, and you didn't hear the story I just told."
Biana turns bright red. Of course, ae can't say I was thinking about your lips on mine, because that would sound... weird. Ae has to keep it platonic, because they'll never be anything other than platonic, and it's not like ae wants that either. Ae swallows, and finally says "You. I'm really glad we're friends."
Platonic friends. Perfect, platonic friends.
That night was so exciting Her smirks were so enticing
"Yeah, I'm an awesome friend," Maruca says, flicking one of her intricate braids. Biana's eyes linger on it a little too long.
Ae clears aer throat and quickly deflects the conversation, still blushing. "You are. Do you want to go downstairs? It smells like something's baking."
"I would be honored to go eat some of your mom's amazing desserts, m'laedy," says Maruca, extending a hand with mock formality. Her gorgeous lips are pulled into a smirk. Biana's breath catches; ae wants to freeze this mental image for eternity. Cautiously, ae takes Maruca's hand in aers.
Skin touching. Holding hands.
It's stupid, it's a cliche, but it does feel like sparks shoot across aer skin as Maruca wraps her fingers in Biana's and starts walking downstairs. Aer stomach flips around excitedly.
Then ae crashes and burns. They are friends. Both girls. Friends don't get this excited about holding other friends' hands. Biana rips aer hand away and stuffs it in aer pocket. Maruca looks a bit offended, but Biana clenches aer jaw and looks down.
It hurts, but ae has to be perfect. No exceptions.
Hours speed by like seconds Then, what happens is iconic
Once they get over the awkwardness of that moment, they slip right back into the fun they were having before. Della's ripplefluffs disappear quickly, and the two of them go back into Biana's room to keep talking. Biana shows Maruca aer sketches- ae hasn't really shown them to anyone before, Alden thinks a Vacker should have a more noble profession than designing fashion- and Maruca tells Biana that ae should dye aer hair.
Alden is going to kill aer, but for once, ae isn't thinking of that. Della would probably say yes, but the two of them decide it would be more fun to sneak out, so they light leap to Slurps And Burps as quietly as they can, in silent giggles the whole time. Maruca decides to re-dye the blue streaks in her hair, and Biana opts for violet. They go back to Biana's room and laugh more. Biana wildly thinks this is the most fun ae's ever had.
It's perfect, even if ae isn't.
She takes a sip, I bite my lip She tells a joke, I nearly choke
Aer stomach is sore from laughing, and ae still can't stop looking at Maruca. She's so pretty, something ae could stare at forever if ae had the chance. The longer ae looks, the more ae notices little details, like the way her braids fall against her shoulders, and how she has barely visible freckles splattered across her nose, and how her hand brushes against Biana's every so often. It's warm, and smooth, and perfect.
Maruca is a masterpiece of a person.
Currently, Biana's fascination lies in how her lips curl around the straw of her lushberry juice. It’s disgusting and wrong and so thrilling as Biana imagines kissing those lips.
No. Stop thinking about that, Biana commands aerself, biting aer own lip to draw aer attention away.
"Biana? Bi? You listening?"
Ae turns red. "Yeah, sorry!"
"Alright, so I was reading about cowboys, except I read it as cowgoys because it was really late, which implies the existence of Jewish cows. So then the thought 'Bar Moo-tzvah' came into my head and I can't stop thinking about it."
Biana snorts; the joke is funny enough on its own, but the cute little smile on Maruca's face and the way her eyes light up nearly make aer choke.
“Shut the fuck up, brain, let me be the perfect Vacker,” ae muters, too quietly for Maruca to hear.
She braids my hair, I sit there Blacking out for the first time
Maruca says Biana's newly violet hair looks beautiful- ae needs to fake a coughing fit to keep from squealing- and asks to braid it. Biana nods, and lets aerself get lost in the feeling of fingers weaving through aer hair and brushing against aer head.
Aer eyes close- ae doesn't know when, but the room around aer disappears and all ae can feel is fingers and this all encompassing, overwhelming love ae seems to be drowning in, blacking out everything else.
Next thing I know, I lose control I finally kiss her but oh no
Without making any conscious decision, Biana spins around, cups Maruca's face, and gently presses aer lips against hers. Their flat noses touch, eyelashes flutter against each other's cheeks, lips kissing. Kissing. It's fast, and sweet, and wonderful. Biana feels aer world aligning perfectly, like this is the way everything was meant to be, and there are fireworks shooting across aer skies.
Biana smiles against Maruca's lips.
I see a face in my window Then my brain starts to go
Everything happens at once.
Maruca yelps and pushes aer back. The door swings open, revealing a shocked Fitz. Fireworks vanish, as quickly as they came.
Biana's world shatters.
Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na No, you can't risk falling off your throne
Dear Maruca,
That kiss was amazing.
But it's too risky to do again.
I'm sorry.
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la Love is something you don't even know
Dear Maruca,
What do I know about kissing? It's not like I have anything to compare it too, besides that one time I kissed Keefe on the cheek because I thought I was supposed to. No, because I wanted to. Because I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to kiss him and I didn't want to kiss you.
I don't know what kissing is supposed to feel like. Or what love is supposed to feel like.
It'll be better with a boy. It has to be better with a boy.
I'll know love eventually, and it won't be with you.
You shouldn't love me either.
Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na You can't risk falling off your throne
Dear Maruca,
I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you-
No.
I hate myself.
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la Love You don't even know
Dear Maruca,
Or maybe I love you.
I don't know.
I probably don't.
Because I can't love another girl, right? I have to be misunderstanding what love means if I think I can love a girl.
I don't know love. But it can't be you.
Rewind, induce amnesia Deny the truth, that's easier
Fitz tells her what to do- pretend like it never happened. That's what Alden told him when he kissed Keefe. Biana snorts humorlessly at that; two fucked up Vacker children. But ae follows his advice. Forget about it. Pretend it never happened. Never address it with Maruca; or speak to her again, really. Pretend, pretend, pretend.
Ae's been pretending aer whole life.
Life continues on, and ae pretends to be okay. Maruca makes friends with Stina, and Biana makes friends with the new girl. Sophie Foster. Sophie is nice enough, but she's not Maruca. She can't replace Maruca. No one can fucking replace Maruca, and no one should have to- ae just fucked up aer only chance with someone that wonderful. But ae pretends Sophie is enough, pretends ae's not heartbroken.
Pretends, pretends, pretends.
Pretends to be perfect.
You're just confused, believe her When she says there's nothing there
Biana talks to Maruca once.
They both apologize in the same breath.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what happened-"
"That was weird, I'm sorry-"
"I don't like you, I was just confused."
"So was I, kissing girls was just something I thought I'd try, a bit of a phase."
"No, totally, it's not like I really like girls or anything."
"Nah, that'd be weird."
They never speak again. There's nothing between them. Biana tries to believe what Maruca told aer. Ae doesn't.
“You're just confused,” ae repeats to aerself. “You're still perfect.”
It's never worth it When you're little miss perfect
Dear Maruca,
Maybe someone else can love you. Someone who doesn't have to be little miss perfect.
76 notes · View notes
rafael-silva · 3 years
Text
heal me (with you I’m whole): a tarlos fic
“You’ll be sporting one hell of a bruise, though.”
Carlos nods. “Yeah, not my first rodeo,” he says through gritted teeth as he attempts to sit up.
“Easy, easy,” Mitchell reaches out, her hands on Carlos’s shoulders as she helps him move.
The sound of sirens start to fill the air around them as the ambulance gets closer and closer. Mitchell looks in that direction, seeing the ambulance park in the alley entrance.
“Hey, Reyes. Isn’t your man a paramedic now?” She asks, her eyes not leaving the bus.
“Yeah.”
“Well, he’s not gonna be happy about this,” she replies, the bold 126 numbers stuck on the ambulance her biggest clue.
Or: Carlos is hit with a bullet while he and his partner chase a suspect, giving him a nasty and painful bruise. Cue TK working through his worry as he takes care of his injured boyfriend, in more ways than one.
for bad things happen bingo: tarlos + bruises 
established tk strand/carlos reyes, major character injury, emotional hurt/comfort, hurt/comfort, angst, whump, fluff, team as family, hurt carlos reyes, worried tk strand, angst with a happy ending, comfort, paramedic tk 
5.4k | on ao3
*****
“Dispatch, this is 363-H-20, in pursuit of suspect on foot, heading west on Sixth.”
“Copy, 363-H-20,” a female voice replies.
Carlos doesn’t have a second to spare to give dispatch more information because said suspect has turned to face the officers and started firing his gun in the direction of Carlos and his partner.
“Take cover!” Carlos yells as he and Mitchell dive behind a dumpster, hearing the collision of metal with metal echo against and through the steel.
He takes hold of his radio and presses down on the side button. “Shots fired. I repeat, shots fired. Requesting back-up.”
Carlos hears dispatch’s acknowledgment and starts studying the layout to come up with a plan to catch this guy. He carefully starts moving to get a better view of where the suspect was last standing, and when no bullets come flying his way, Carlos dares to move swiftly but cautiously into the open. He spots the back of the man running towards a nearby alley.
“Mitchell, I’ll follow him, you go around and cut him off from the other end of the alley,” Carlos quickly pieces the plan together.
Mitchell gives him a firm nod and starts moving, gun drawn.
Carlos starts jogging in the direction the suspect was last seen heading in, his vision and focus narrowed to just that.
Mitchell is about to reach the alley when a shot rings and bounces off the brick walls. She gulps, racing towards the source of the sound.
She freezes when she enters the alley. It’s only for a second but it felt like hours. Her wide eyes catch movement ahead and she diverts her gaze to see the suspect racing back in the direction he came from.
“Officer down! Officer down!” She screams into her clutched radio. “Suspect last seen fleeing on foot heading east.” She relays the information before dropping to her knees next to Carlos’s unmoving body. “Reyes!”
With a quick scan, she finds Carlos’s service weapon discarded on the ground next to him and a hand grasping at his chest.
“Reyes!” She tries again, moving to touch her partner but pulls back when Carlos startles.
His face immediately scrunches up in pain, squeezing his eyes shut and tries to catch a breath. Which doesn’t really work for him judging by the groan he exhales.  
He opens his eyes and looks up at her. “Go…after him.”
“Like hell I’m leaving you,” Mitchell replies. “Besides, he’s long gone. Maybe back-up will have better luck finding him.”
Carlos groans again, and she doesn’t know if it’s because of what she just said or if it’s the pain. Or both. Probably both, she decides.
“Requesting EMS to our location,” Mitchell calls into her radio. “363-H-20 last known position.” She releases the button. “Where are you hit?”
“Caught me straight in the chest,” Carlos pants.
After an inspection of his vest, Mitchell easily finds the tear where the bullet is lodged in the Kevlar. She pulls out the round, showing it to Carlos.
“You’ll be sporting one hell of a bruise, though.”
Carlos nods. “Yeah, not my first rodeo,” he says through gritted teeth as he attempts to sit up.
“Easy, easy,” Mitchell reaches out, her hands on Carlos’s shoulders as she helps him move.
The sound of sirens start to fill the air around them as the ambulance gets closer and closer. Mitchell looks in that direction, seeing the ambulance park in the alley entrance.
“Hey, Reyes. Isn’t your man a paramedic now?” She asks, her eyes not leaving the bus.
“Yeah.”
“Well, he’s not gonna be happy about this,” she replies, the bold 126 numbers stuck on the ambulance her biggest clue.
She moves out of Carlos’s line of sight and sees the moment his realization kicks in. And the groan he lets out then definitely has everything to do with the information and not his pain.
Carlos watches Tommy jump out of the back, shouldering the lifepak, and soon is followed by Nancy and TK, who’s holding the medkit.
The officer relaxes a little upon seeing his boyfriend, a sense of safety washing over him but that relaxing feeling is quickly replaced with dread at knowing how much TK is going to worry, and he already hates putting TK through that.
He sees TK and Nancy in a fast exchange, and TK laughs at something his partner said, making Nancy’s eyes light up at his laughter. Carlos wonders when he’ll get to see TK laugh that freely again. The team is still unaware of who is currently on the ground needing their help.
“What do we got?” Tommy asks once they’re near the officers and within ear shot.
“Mitchell?” TK frowns before anything else can be said, his eyes landing on her.
Confusion paints TK’s face for a few moments before all the pieces fall into place and with a pang in his chest, he realizes. He feels his face heating up and wills his eyes to start moving towards—
“I’m okay,” comes Carlos’s voice from behind Mitchell, speaking up before TK’s mind completely spirals towards the worst case scenario.
“Says the man who took a round to the chest,” Mitchell retorts, looking at the paramedics.
“What?” TK almost yells, his brain still catching up to everything happening around him.
“The vest stopped it,” Carlos raises his hands in defense.
“Still, not good,” Mitchell shrugs.  
With a sigh, TK drops the medkit and kneels next to Carlos. He works on collecting his breath and relaxes just the slightest at seeing his boyfriend sitting up, alert and talking.
“You’ve just shortened my life by five years,” TK mumbles.
“Oh, I’ve shortened your life by five years,” Carlos snaps back, but his eyes are filled with affection as he looks at TK and tries to lighten the mood.
TK rolls his eyes with a shake of his head. “She’s right,” he says instead, his eyebrow raised as he tries to mask his worry.
But Carlos can see right through it. “I’m okay, Ty,” he whispers, his face soft but clearly trying to hide the pain.
“Let me be the judge of that,” TK replies and no amount of banter or gestures can conceal the concern radiating from the paramedic’s green irises.
Carlos nods, watching as TK opens the medkit and grabs the equipment he needs to start his examination. Meanwhile, Mitchell stands aside while Tommy and Nancy crouch in front of Carlos.
“Hey, guys,” Carlos gives them a small smile.
“Hey, Carlos,” Tommy smiles back. “How are you feeling?”
“Okay.”
TK gently presses the head of the stethoscope to Carlos’s chest and moves it around as he listens. “Where exactly did the round hit you?”
“Right here,” Carlos points to the middle of his chest, a little above his bellybutton. “It hurts to breathe a little.”
“I’m hearing some wheezing, Cap,” TK speaks up.
Tommy nods, her mind gears turning. “Given the location you got hit and your breathing condition, I would say it’s a bruised lung. But the doctors at the hospital will confirm.”
Carlos drops his head at the mention of the hospital.
“It’s just to make sure it is what it is without any complications,” TK jumps in. “You know that, babe.”
Carlos nods.
“Help me get his vest off,” Tommy says to TK as Nancy preps to take Carlos’s vitals.
Carefully, TK and Tommy work together to peel the vest off Carlos without causing him any added pain. However, no matter how mindful they are, Carlos lets out a few pained breaths as slight jostling happens in the process.
“Sorry, sorry,” TK apologizes, his voice filled with sympathy.
TK knows what to expect as he watches Tommy lift Carlos’s shirt to unveil the injury. Yet TK can’t help the sharp breath he draws in when his eyes land on the nasty red bruise already blooming across his boyfriend’s chest.
That small, round piece of metal had left substantial damage in its wake, and TK finds himself praying that Carlos hasn’t also suffered bruised or fractured ribs from the impact. Or worse: internal bleeding.
“It’s okay, Ty. Not the worst I’ve had,” Carlos says, reading the worry and the reaction on TK’s face.
TK knows Carlos is trying to help make him feel better, to comfort him and decrease his worry, but that wasn’t particularly the comfort TK was searching for.
“That doesn’t make me feel better,” TK sighs, his voice filled to the brim with emotion.
TK extends his arm and takes Carlos’s hand into his own.
TK squeezes. I’m right here.
Carlos squeezes back. I know.
“Everything is okay, but respiration is a little low,” Nancy reports after checking Carlos’s vitals.
Tommy nods. And then to Carlos: “I’m going to check your ribs, okay?”
Carlos nods, sucking in a deep breath as Tommy starts adding pressure around and over his ribs. His grip on TK’s hand tightens as Tommy continues her exam, hot pain flaring through his nerves at the contact.
His eyes water a little and he lets out a shaky breath as Tommy retreats her hands.
“Good news is nothing appears to be broken, but they’ll want to get x-rays done, too.”
TK lets out the breath he was holding at Tommy’s words while Carlos’s ears are still ringing from the wave of pain still coursing through his body.
His ears clear as Tommy asks another question. “Can you get up?”
“Yeah,” Carlos answers, his voice a little unsteadier than he’d like.
And then Mitchell is by his side as he drapes an arm over TK’s shoulder, Mitchell taking his other arm and guiding it over hers. Together, they share Carlos’s weight as they get him to his feet. Supporting him, they slowly walk over to the ambulance and lowering him on the gurney before he stretches on it.
Carlos closes his eyes and lets out a content sigh at the softness underneath him, heaven compared to the hard asphalt where he was lying slash sitting for a while.
He opens his eyes again when Mitchell speaks. “I’ll meet you at the hospital. And Reyes?” She looks at Carlos. “They caught him.”
He gives her a grateful smile.
After pushing the gurney into the ambulance once Tommy got in, TK wordlessly follows, Nancy shutting the doors and heading to the driver’s seat.
Tommy is attaching some wires and equipment to Carlos while TK grabs the oxygen mask and places it over his boyfriend’s face. “It’s gonna help.”
Carlos accepts it, because breathing really does hurt right now and he’ll take all the assistance he can get, but still, he’s about to say something before TK interrupts.
“You’re okay, I know,” TK gives him a small smile and leans in, brushing a kiss to the officer’s temple.
Carlos finds TK’s hand and gives it another squeeze.
“Just relax, babe.”
TK feels better after Tommy’s examinations and her prognosis, yet a part of him can’t stop the worry and concern that flood his own chest. He can’t get rid of it or push it to the side, not until he’s a thousand percent sure that Carlos is fine, scans, tests and all.
He knows how badly and quickly things can escalate with injuries like Carlos’s. Patients go from sitting up, talking and laughing to needing emergency surgery in a matter of minutes if something went unnoticed. And that thought alone scares TK to his core.
No. TK expels the thought, Carlos is okay, he’s gonna be fine. He trusts Tommy and her judgment, her experience. And they’ll make sure Carlos gets all the tests and scans he needs at the hospital to rule out any underlying injuries or problems. Or if there are any, to catch them early before they get worse or become life-threatening to Carlos.
TK is torn from his thoughts when his hand is squeezed again. He zones back in and looks at Carlos, who’s giving him his own concerned look with slightly creased eyebrows. He sensed where TK’s mind had gone.
TK gives Carlos a smile to reassure him, or attempts to, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.
Once they arrive at the hospital, the ambulance doors are pulled open the moment the bus comes to a halt. There’s a doctor and two nurses helping lower the gurney which Tommy pushes out of the ambulance while relaying information about Carlos, his injury and vitals. TK’s hold on Carlos’s hand remains firm as he quickly moves alongside the gurney.
However, they’re forced to pull apart when the nurse stops, stopping TK in his tracks with her.
“We’ll take him for some tests and scans, you can wait there,” she says, pointing to the waiting room.
“Can I stay with him? He’s my boyfriend,” TK replies, his eyes speaking volumes.
The nurse’s face softens at his words, and she nods after a moment. “Just until we take him up for the scans.”
He steals a quick look at Tommy, noticing Mitchell now standing nearby.
“Go,” she says immediately. “We’ll wait.”
“Thank you,” TK gives her a small smile and with a nod from his Captain, he jogs in the direction he saw the nurse walk in.
He finds Carlos easily, and his boyfriend is lying back in a hospital bed as another nurse wheels the gurney out. TK steps aside to let her pass and then directs his attention back to Carlos.
“Hey, babe.”
Carlos opens his eyes and they land on TK. “Hi, baby. I thought you had to go.” TK shakes his head, approaching Carlos. “Not right now. The nurse said I can stay until they take you to get the scans done. Tommy and Nancy are waiting and Mitchell is here, too.”
TK takes hold of one of Carlos’s hands while the other finds its way to Carlos’s hair, where TK runs his fingers through the officer’s curls, the gel he uses to keep said curls in place almost completely gone now.
Carlos is about to say something when TK cuts him off before he starts.
“Carlos Reyes, if you’re about to say you’re okay one more time…”
Carlos sighs. “I hate to see you worrying.”
“Well, I’m gonna worry. It comes hand in hand with loving someone,” TK says and leans in, planting a kiss to Carlos’s forehead.
Being close to Carlos and being able to touch him helps calm TK’s racing heart. Carlos’s warmth and scent an indication that he’s here, that he’s okay.
“You’re preaching to the choir,” Carlos teases with a small chuckle.
Whatever was going to be TK’s response stops short on his lips when his radio crackles to life.
He squeezes his eyes shut, titling his head backwards, that feeling of calm he had moments ago is now replaced with dread.
“Maybe I can talk to Tommy—” TK is already planning before even opening his eyes again.
“Hey, baby, it’s okay,” Carlos’s collected voice guides TK back. “Go.”
TK hesitates. “I don’t wanna leave you, not yet, I’m sure Tommy—”
“Ty, baby,” Carlos continues, slightly shaking his head. “Go. I’m okay, really. They’ll probably send me home after the scans. Mitchell will drive me to the station and I’ll go straight home from there. It’s okay, I promise.” He knows his boyfriend all-too well, and hopes his words will lift the feeling of guilt he knows is currently setting in TK’s gut.
“Okay,” TK finally nods, but his eyes still carry concern. “But if anything changes or if the scans show anything—”
“I’ll call,” Carlos gives him a reassuring smile.
“I’ll see you at home, baby,” TK whispers before pressing his lips gently against Carlos’s.
Carlos’s smile widens into the kiss as he returns it. “I’ll see you at home, babe.”
With one last look at Carlos, TK reluctantly leaves, repeating he’s okay he’s okay over in his mind, a mantra to keep him calm. He meets Tommy and Nancy by the rig and jumps into the passenger seat without a word.
*****
Owen meets them in the bay when they return to the firehouse after the call. He’s frowning, eyebrows drawn together as he watches TK close the door.
“Carlos,” Owen states, the concern evident in his tone. “Is he okay?”
TK nods, running a hand through his hair. “Had to leave the hospital for a call before his scans but he texted a while ago. He’s waiting for the results, his partner is with him.”
Owen pats TK’s back as he walks past him and walks towards the stairs.  
After a quick shower, TK heads into the common area. He tries sitting on the couch, but the bouncing of his leg starts to drive him a little up the walls, so he opts to stand instead. Which leads him to pace around the room, checking his watch for the time every thirty seconds as the black screen of his phone taunts him.
He starts fidgeting with his hands as he moves around, radiating nervous energy and he’s so caught up in his own thoughts of Carlos should have the results by now and what if something is wrong and I’m not there that he doesn't hear someone enter the space around him.
“He’s gonna be okay, man,” Paul’s voice seeps into TK’s ear through the fog engulfing him.
He turns to look at his teammate, and Paul’s face soft and carrying empathy.
Slowly, the rest of the team start filing in, dispersing into the room as they fall into easy conversations about anything and everything. And TK finds himself sitting down, too. They don’t make a big deal about it, but TK knows what they’re doing. He knows they’re here for him, physically and otherwise and to keep him company, knowing he can’t bear to be alone right now. Not with his leg bouncing again and his hand playing with a loose thread sticking out of a couch cushion. As much as he appreciates it, and he does, he ends up tuning out all their voices and movement around him, Carlos the only thing on his mind.
What brings him back is his phone pinging in his pocket.
He jumps to his feet in a heartbeat, fishing it out of his pocket. He sees its a text from Carlos and unlocks his phone with shaky hands.
The room falls silent as TK reads the message, holding his own breath as his mind catches up with his eyes.
Carlos: Everything is okay, babe. Scans are fine. No bruised or broken ribs and no internal bleeding. The bruised lung will heal on its own. Heading back to the station now.
TK rereads the text for good measure, to make sure his brain isn’t playing any cruel tricks on him. Once he’s satisfied that there are no tricks involved, he finally allows himself to relax and breathe.
“Oh, thank God,” he whispers, the first audible reaction to the text. He looks up at his family. “Carlos is okay. He’s gonna be home soon.”
The collective tension is suddenly lifted, along with the weight sitting on TK’s shoulders.
“That’s great,” Paul gives TK a wide smile.
“Hey, TK,” Owen calls for his son.
TK turns towards the doorway to see his father and Tommy standing side by side, both wearing small, soft smiles. Owen nudges his head in the direction of the bunk room and TK gets the hint. He follows them in there.
“You should go home, Strand,” Tommy starts. “You should be with Carlos and I know he’d want you there. We only have a couple of hours left for shift, we can hold down the fort here.”
TK nervously shifts his balance from one foot to the other. “Are you sure? Because it’s just a couple of hours, like you said.”
As much as TK wants nothing more than to be with Carlos right now, he also doesn’t want to skip out and leave his team shorthanded.
But Owen joins in the conversation, bringing any more of TK’s thoughts to a halt.
“Go home to your boyfriend, son,” Owen fondly claps TK on the back. “A bruised lung is painful, and like Tommy said, I’m sure Carlos would want you there. We got it covered here.”
And TK doesn’t need to be told again. With a quick thank you! and grateful looks given to his father and his Captian, TK is rushing to pack his stuff and order an Uber.
He was counting down the minutes and seconds until he went home to Carlos, and now instead, he’s making his way out of the firehouse with promises to pass on the crew’s well wishes to the officer as he gets into the awaiting car.
He’s using his key and pushing the condo door open less than thirty minutes later.
The living room is dark, save for a small side lamp that is left switched on near the couch, which casts a soft yellow glow.
Moving his attention up the stairs, TK notices that the hallway light is on.
“Carlos?”
A beat.
Then, “TK?”
Carlos’s tired and slightly strained voice has TK ascending the stairs two at a time and then steps into the bedroom.
The moment his eyes land on Carlos, he learns the reason behind his boyfriend’s fatigued tone.
Carlos is halfway through taking his shirt off, his movement paused as it sends waves of pain down his arm and rattles against his bruise.
TK drops his duffel bag at the foot of the bed and walks over.
“Hey, babe. Here, let me help,” TK says.
“Can’t really move my arm without it hurting,” Carlos sighs.
TK hums in understanding and helps ease the shirt off Carlos’s shoulders and down his arms in the least painful and uncomfortable way. He then throws it into the laundry basket to be dealt with later.
“I was gonna hop in the shower,” Carlos speaks after the waves of pain are over. “The hot water helps,” he adds, speaking from experience.
TK picks up on that, and he wants to know more about what exactly happened to Carlos before, but he holds back. He knows it’s not the time for it, and he can eventually revisit the subject when Carlos is feeling better and not sporting a gigantic bruise on his torso.
“I’ll join you,” TK decides.
“Then that shower will definitely help,” Carlos smiles, a glint of playfulness in his eyes. And then he realizes something, which makes his smile fall a little. “Hey, I thought your shift ends in a couple of hours.”
“It does,” TK confirms. “Cap and dad sent me home early. Told me I should be with you, and they got it handled. The whole crew send their well wishes and love, too.”
“I’m honestly just so glad and relieved you’re here that I can’t conjure up enough to feel guilty that your team is shorthanded right now,” Carlos expresses. “And also very tired.”
“There’s no reason to feel guilty,” TK assures Carlos. “I promise. They say they have it covered, then they have it covered. Besides, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here.”
Carlos gives him a small, but genuine smile. TK kisses him softly. It’s a kiss filled with love, reassurance and safety.
“Come on, that shower awaits.”
TK runs the water to reach the perfect temperature as he helps undress Carlos the rest of the way and gives him a hand into the tub. After quickly removing and discarding all of his own clothes, TK steps in behind the slightly larger man.
Carlos closes his eyes as the warm spray collides with his battered body, running down his skin.
TK eyes the large bruise and his breaks at how painful it must be, and he hates that Carlos is experiencing that pain. And his heart also starts racing at the mere thought that Carlos is hurt to begin with. But he reminds himself that Carlos is here, he’s okay, and he’s going to heal.
“Relax, I got you, babe,” TK whispers when he notices Carlos tightening his back muscles. He reaches out, running his hands gently up and down Carlos’s back.
“You always do,” Carlos whispers in return.
TK drops a kiss to Carlos’s shoulder and cards his fingers through his now-messy curls, the product Carlos used that morning long gone.
He retrieves the shampoo and pours a good amount in his palm, lathering it up and then moving to run his hands over Carlos’s hair, gently scratching against his scalp, massaging it as he went just as the officer likes and the action has Carlos leaning into the paramedic’s tender touch.
After rinsing out the shampoo, TK reaches around Carlos again and grabs the peach scented body wash. Once it’s foamy in his palms, he carefully glides his hands up and down Carlos’s body, mindful of his injury as he washes the day’s sweat, pain and hospital visit off of Carlos’s skin.
Carlos lets out a satisfied hum, letting himself get lost in TK’s delicate ministration. This is everything he wanted all day, everything he longed for. To feel TK’s touch, to be in TK’s space.
TK doesn’t apply pressure on or around the bruise, his touches light as he works the soap over the wound. Looking over the contusion, TK can spot the point of contact between the bullet and his boyfriend’s body. The small circle is darker than the rest of the bruise, and TK has to swallow against his suddenly dry throat at that realization. The vest had protected Carlos, stopping the bullet, but the energy had to go somewhere and so it spread over and through Carlos’s chest.
TK shakes it off, focusing on Carlos in the here and now.
Once they’re done and smelling fresh, TK turns off the water and steps out. He wraps a towel around his waist as Carlos climbs out, letting TK wrap a towel around his middle.
“Better?” TK asks.
Carlos nods, looking into TK’s green eyes through his wet lashes.
“And your chest?”
“Doesn’t throb as much.”
A the edges of TK’s lips pull up in a small smile. He frames Carlos’s face with his hands and closes the distance between them with a chaste kiss, which Carlos happily reciprocates.
Carlos’s own sorrow starts to brew in his gut at the memory of a fleeting thought he had earlier in the day: for a second, he thought he may never get to kiss TK again.
TK taking hold of his hand brings him back to this moment, standing in the warmth of their bathroom and Carlos is thankful for the distraction. He pushes the memory to the side and follows TK as he leads them back into the bedroom.
They slip on sweats and comfortable cotton t-shirts, TK momentarily going downstairs to get two bottles of water before retreating back to their bedroom. He finds Carlos pulling the duvet back and carefully climbing into bed, letting out a content sigh when he rests his injured body on the soft mattress.
Carlos grabs the prescribed non-opioid medication he got from the hospital pharmacy and pops the dosage into his palm, gratefully accepting the opened water bottle TK hands him.
Carlos’s phone pings as TK makes his way around the bed to his side, watching as Carlos unlocks his phone, a smile immediately decorating the officer’s face at what he sees.
“My mom is coming over tomorrow,” he tells TK after a moment. “She’s gonna make us food.”
TK chuckles as he gets comfortable. “Sounds very much like Andrea Reyes.”
“Yeah,” Carlos agrees.
“Tell her I say hi,” TK smiles as he watches Carlos type back.
After responding, Carlos plugs his phone into the charger and a small wince escapes his lips as the movement hurts his chest.
“Easy, babe,” TK reminds him from behind.
Carlos settles back, taking deep, even breaths as the wave of pain trickles away. He slowly moves down the bed, until his head is even with the pillow but instead of using it, he gravitates towards TK’s open arm and pillows his head on his boyfriend’s chest.
Usually it’s the other way around, with TK’s head on Carlos’s chest, save for a few times Carlos would have bad days and want to be held. And right now, all Carlos wants is for TK’s arms to be around him, and TK happily obliges. Plus, adding pressure to Carlos’s battered chest is not a good idea, making the only other option for them is staying apart, which both men are highly and most definitely against. They need to in each other’s embrace.
They settle with careful maneuvers until TK feels Carlos relax in his hold when he finds a comfortable position. His arm is thrown across TK’s waist, his head resting above TK’s steady heartbeat, which is Carlos’s lifeline.
TK’s hold on Carlos is firm and gentle, with enough pressure to reassure his boyfriend that he’s safe but not enough to cause him any hurt. He runs his hand up and down Carlos’s back, to help ground and anchor him.
“I was really scared for a moment today,” Carlos whispers. “When the bullet hit my chest, all I could feel was white, hot pain. I didn’t know if it had gone through the vest, sometimes they do, and for a second, I was scared I’d never see you again. That I’d never kiss you again. I was so scared that we were out of time,” Carlos’s voice builds with emotion.
TK’s touches don’t slow or stop, he keeps the movement going, also knowing Carlos needs it.
“And there’s still so much I want to do with you, so much for us to do together,” Carlos continues.
TK nods along with Carlos’s words. He, too, feels the same in his heart.
“You know I’ll always fight to come back to you. I’ll always fight for us,” Carlos states, his voice wavering a little.
“I know, babe,” TK replies, dropping a kiss to the top of Carlos’s head. A moment of silence passes between them. “I was scared, too. We had no idea who was down and then when I saw Mitchell and you were nowhere in sight, it was like a bucket of ice water was poured over me. And all I could think was the same thing, there’s still so much for us to do together that this can’t be the end,” he confesses. “And you know what?”
“Hm?” Carlos moves his head to look up at TK.
“We’ll make every second count,” TK says with a soft smile.
Carlos studies him for a couple of moments, his eyes roaming over TK’s face, taking in his micro expressions, the way his green eyes sparkle, the worry still etched into his forehead that’s slowly fading away.
“We will,” Carlos promises back.
“You know it’s okay,” TK speaks, slicing through the quiet that settles in the air once again.
“What is?”
“For people to help you,” TK clarifies. “You always take care of everyone else, you’re always there for everyone, for anything they need. It’s only fair you get the same treatment in return. And I know you can take care of yourself and all, but it’s never a burden asking for help, or accepting it,” he pretty much reads Carlos’s mind.
Carlos tightens his hold on TK.
“And I know you haven’t been fighting me on helping you and taking care of you since I came home because you hate seeing me worry. And helping you has been helping me, too. Knowing you’re okay. You don’t have to be strong all the time, babe. I admire your strength, but you can get help sometimes, too.”
Carlos lifts his head again and looks at TK, his brown irises swimming with unshed tears. He doesn’t need to speak, TK understands.
“Oh, ‘Los,” TK murmurs. “I promise I’ll always be here.”
Carlos nods and closes his eyes when TK brushes a kiss to his forehead, a tear rolling down his cheek which TK wipes away with his thumb.
“I love you, Ty,” Carlos voices. “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me, ‘Los. I love you, too, baby. Get some rest.”
TK extends his arm and clicks the light off, the moonlight shining through the blinds takes its turn to illuminate the room. Carlos closes his eyes, focusing on TK’s steady heartbeat. He’s lulled to sleep, basking in the warmth and love of TK.
Yeah, everything is going to be just fine, Carlos thinks as he drifts off.
111 notes · View notes
dancingthesambaa · 3 years
Text
The Smell of Plum Blossom Tea Ch 11
Summary: Just like a butterfly wing, a single act of kindness can change the course of the future, it certainly did for MK as a black furred monkey put out a hand towards him.
Rating: Teen and up
Chapter 11: It’s a Bittersweet Reunion
“Monkey King!” MK quickly stood up as he rushed towards his mentor, “it’s not what it-” he quieted down as he felt Monkey King glint ominously as he stared him down.
“You should probably listen to starlight there,” Macaque tried to say, but he sighed when the stare was directed back to him, but a lot more threatening.
“What have you done to him!?”
“Or you can just ignore me,” he sighed dramatically, but his entire body was buzzing in anticipation for the first strike. He knew how this is all gonna go down whether he likes it or not. So he takes a step forward with his hands out and says, “look Wukong, it’s-” then promptly stops as the Monkey sage takes a step towards him.
“Don’t you take another step forward,” he growled out.
“Look Wukong-”
“Don’t call me that.”
“I refuse to call you Monkey King, so Wukong,” he emphasized. He didn’t call him Monkey King back then and he sure as hell is not about to start now. “Open your fucking ears and listen, I’m not gonna hurt the kid.”
“Nice try, but I’m not buying it,” he watched his every twitch, just waiting to see when he would strike.
“But I’m not, you really think I’d hurt a kid?”
Wukong said nothing, but his narrowed eyes were all the answer he needed.
Macaque sucked in a sharp breath and gritted his teeth shut as his nails dug into the palm of his hands. He tried his best to ignore the hushed whispers in his head that begged him to show him real fear. Show how deep our shadows can take him. Show him how to see with one eye like him. Show him painpainpainpain. Then he let the air harshly out of his nose as clenched his teeth as he growled out. “You really think that low of me huh.”
“After what you did to them,” he shifted his foot back and gripped tightly onto his staff, “it does make me question a few things.”
The six eared demon couldn’t stop the jealousy and irritation that flowed through his mind when he heard those venomous words. Didn’t stop his hands from shaking nor his eyes or ears from twitching.
“What were you doing with MK,” he repeated himself.
“Oh some herb gathering, I’m out of stock you know,” he sarcastically said.
“If you're going to lie, at least think of a more feasible story,” Mac really wanted to rip off his tongue at that, “tell me the truth.”
“Or what?”
“But it’s true!” MK tried to say, but it seemed that his words were ignored.
“Or I’ll make you,” he let the golden energy roll over him as he stood in front of his student.
“Just try it,” he taunted as his own violent aura emerged and coiled around him. He knew where this was headed, but at this point he didn’t care, he wanted to vent out all his frustrations to this dumbass monkey for a long time. He sent over a glance to MK, who looked to be on the verge of a mental breakdown, to stand far away.
He heard it loud and clear as he opened and closed his mouth repeatedly before running as far as he could.
Then, in less than a heartbeat, there was a loud sound that blasted out as the two monkeys collided together in a burst of torrent energy.
BOOM BOOM BOOOOOM
They separated as the blow blew them both back, but Wukong charged first once more as Macaque sank into the shadows to avoid the attack. That didn’t deter the golden monkey as he activated his eyes of truth with a quick glance charged at one spot, only to block an attack from a clone emerging while the other followed suit.
“You really think it would be that simple,” taunted Macaque as he rushed in with a swing of his glowing staff.
Wukong easily dispelled the clones and side swept him with his own staff.
Neither side gave him as they instinctively began to run further toward the mountain while still attacking one another.
Both monkeys are opposite of one another in many ways, but those differences seem to not matter when face to face with each other as they both counter each other's moves.
When Wukong became a bird and flew high to drop down into a tiger, Macaque manipulated his shadows to tackle him out of mid air and send him spiraling to become a crater on the ground.
When Macaque tried to grapple him from behind and throw him to the mountain side, Wukong nimbly dodged and sent him a sidekick to the side.
When Wukong sent out a flurry of blows, Macaque easily blocked each strike with his own staff.
When Macaque attempts to kick him to the mountain and pin him there, Wukong jumps high and hurdles him away from him.
When one attacks, the other counter.
When the other strikes, one will block.
It was almost an endless cycle.
It may have been a long time since they last saw each other, but the knowledge and the instinct that was left upon them never failed for a second. So, with both monkeys equally matched it would lead to a stand still as neither side gave in or could push enough.
So how would this end?
With both sides killing the other off with one final blast, leaving the mountain and perhaps even part of the city in ruins?
Not quite. Actually it would end when MK had enough of this stupid fight and recklessly charges in.
“STOOPPP!” He yelled out as he made the final jump and stood in between the two enraged monkeys. He knows this is a very stupid move that he is gonna get lectured on later, but he thinks that this is the only way to stop the two of them from fighting.
And he was right. Both monkeys' eyes widened in horror as they saw where their attack was heading.
“MK/STARLIGHT!” They both screamed as both of them immediately aborted their powered up blast and screeched to a halt before they could run into him.
The sage monkey could feel his heart drilling in his ears as he was so grateful that he managed to stop when he did. Before he could grab his kid, another force beat him to it as he saw Macaque rush over to him. He sprinted over there to stop him from hurting him but it was too late as the black furred monkey grabbed MK, picked him up…and began to examine him frantically?
“Are you okay? Did you get hit? Did the excess release of the energy seep out and injure you? Do you feel any nausea, headaches, dizziness, need to run around and blow shit up, bloody nose?” He began to search not only his physical self, but his inner self in both body and spirit. He may train him and Mei to the ground every session and make them wish they wanted to rip out their own bones, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t take the utmost care of them. Hence why they have never left training with any broken bones or fractures alike, this is probably why everyone calls him a worrywart.
‘…what?’ Wukong blinked at the scene in front of him.
“I’m fine,” he tried to push the hands off him and focus him back on what was previously happening.
“That still doesn’t take away from the fact that you recklessly charged into the fight and almost got yourself killed!” He hissed out.
“Meep,” he lowered his head as he remembered, right, his Dad could care less if the world was burning around them if he was hurt in any way. Though that doesn’t stop the warm feeling in his gut at the thought.
“Ummm, what’s happening?” Monkey King couldn’t help but ask as he stepped forward, only to be stopped by Macaque turning to him, as he pushed MK behind him, and let out a short snarl to him with his eyes burning a bright violet.
He only stopped once he realized just who he was looking at and remembered what just happened not even a minute ago as he slowly eased his posture. But even when his eyes were focused on the monkey in front, he still kept three of his ears to MK behind.
“Wouldn’t you like to know tinker bell,” he couldn’t help grunting out.
“Okay, first off rude and secondly, I just want to know what you're doing with my student?” He rolled his eyes cause at this point he sorta figured out that he may have been slightly wrong about something. He just can’t put his finger on what.
“Oh now you want to talk,” the medicine monkey huffed, “would have been a nice idea before you decided to up and try to kill me.”
“I wasn’t going to kill you,” Wukong immediately said. “Just knock you out,” and that was the solid truth. He may not see eye to eye with him anymore, but he will not take away his life. He refuses to.
“Oh cause that’s so much better.”
“Would you rather you be a hundred feet underground?”
“As if you can manage that, I felt that last punch, it seems you are slacking old man,” he gave him a nasty smile.
“By only a thousand year!” His eye twitched at the age-old insult.
“Keep telling yourself that old man.”
“There may be a standstill but that still won’t stop me from throwing your scrawny ass off this mountain!”
“I would rather not,” both monkeys startled at the sound of MK's voice and they quickly backed away from each other as they just realized how close they were standing to the other. “I rather like my Dad alive.”
“MK don’t do-wait YOUR DAD?!” You can almost hear his neck snap towards his student at his words.
“Yeahhhh,” he couldn’t help but avoid those bewildered eyes as he rubbed his neck.
Wukong could barely comprehend his words as he turned his head to a very smug monkey.
“Surprise mother fucker,” he couldn’t help but say. He was very much enjoying this.
And for the first time, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, finally took a good look at his former friend and noticed that he has definitely changed. He couldn’t decide what to focus on, from his new clothes, his long mane (which really threw him for a loop), his sleek fur, or his very sparkly nails. But he decided it was probably best to focus on the human he is actually willing to protect as he formed up an articulate question in his head out loud.
“Dad?” Nope, he was still very thrown off about this. Macaque is a Dad?!? Are we still talking about the same angst demon monkey that would barely even stand the presence of others let alone a human child?!
“Huh, congratulations. I think you finally broke what was left of his brain no matter how small it may have been,” he complimented his child.
“I really wasn’t trying,” he sighed as he stepped closer.
“Then that’s even more pathetic on his part.”
“I’m still here,” Wukong couldn’t help but announce.
“Oh really I thought you left,” Macaque sarcastically said, “well since you're here then I guess you finally have time to listen or are you just gonna be an impulsive idiot again.”
“Okay, I’ll admit that I may have jumped the gun, but can you blame me for thinking that you would try something to get back at me?!” He shouted back, not knowing the fuse he had lit.
“Excuse me!?” At this point the demon monkey was fed up as he began to march back over to the sage monkey to start round two. He hoped he did not imply what he thought he did.
“I-I mean you used to never do this before,” he quickly said to calm down the enraged monkey, though he probably should have listened to MK frantic hand movements as they all gestured him to basically ‘shut up before you get killed.’
“I ‘used’ to! Past tense you egotistical fool! People-demons-I can change! I have changed, I know I am not the same demon I was thousands of years ago!” He had to stop himself from dragging his hands to that pretty little throat/begging him to understand. “I am not the same.”
“And you just happen to stumble upon a human who so happens to be able to pick up my staff?” He said in disbelief.
“Want to hear something shocking? Yes! I did! I found him and I adopted him cause I could, cause I wanted to, cause I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving him alone! So get off your high horse and come down to the rest of us beings, cause the world doesn’t revolve around you Sun Wukong.” Macaque could barely hold in his anger as he spat out his name.
Wukong didn’t even flinch as he held his ground, he knows that people can change, he sure as fuck had, but right now he wants to make sure that the demon in front of him had changed for the better. He knows he is driving a bigger gap between them than before (hurtpainpainwhydontdoithetribematefriend) but he can’t take any chances, especially with the kid involved in their mess. “That still doesn’t mean that you won’t try to use him against me like before!”
And it was that moment that the fuse hit the combustion and Macaque erupted in a glorious and deadly violet light as he smashed his right fist into the mountain side and moments later, that came crumbling down.
“How dare you,” the low voice harshly echoed out.
“Wha-”
“How fucking DARE YOU!” Voices overlapped each other as a pulse of dark violent energy instinctively flared out towards Wukong, who was just able to stand his ground against the wave.
“Mac-” The monkey tried to speak but was abruptly cut off.
“How dare you accuse I would do anything to harm my child! Fuck you, you flea ridden coward! Here’s a fucking clue things change! I can admit I done some shit in the past, I screwed many over, and I damn sure stained red with the blood of innocent and guilty, but don’t you even dare for a goddamn moment that you never done messed up shit fuck face! But how fucking dare you accuse I would do anything to harm my child!” His eyes glowed in pure rage as he locked onto shocked golden eyes. He was done.
“No! No I don’t thi-” He shouldn’t have done this, he shouldn’t have said a damn thing.
“Shut up! Like fuck I know I made my own stupid mistakes and even when centuries have passed I will never make up for some of those, do you want me to say sorry? Cause I fucking am!” He clenched his robes to where his heart was as he gripped it right.
Wukong eyes feel like it couldn’t enlarge anymore as he reached out a hand to him, “Mac-”
“I’m sorry for attacking you and your friends so many times! I’m sorry that I couldn’t change my ways back then! I’m sorry that I couldn’t keep up! I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to stay by your side! I’m sorry for all the years you wasted being my other half!”
He is sorry that he spend all those years with his Sun, he is sorry that he couldn’t help but feel alive when he is with him, he is sorry that he couldn’t help but falling in love with him for all those years, but he doesn’t-will not say that outloud nor will he ever truly regret it.
Wukong feels everything shrinking in on him as he only has eyes for only one as of this moment. He could see the anger in his voice, the frustration in his eyes, and the rage in his stand.
But if there is one thing Macaque has always been good at, it is playing the part, cause he can also see the desperation in his tone, the misery in his eyes and the pure betrayal in how his shoulders are a bit too firm.
“Mac no! I-” He wanted to explain that he didn’t want this, that he was being an idiot.
“Shut up!” He didn’t want to hear anymore.
“Listen!” He wanted to explain it all.
“Shut up!” Not a single word, not now.
“Please, just-” He needs to tell him.
Then his glamor flickered as all of his scars showed on his body and his hazy blind one appeared as he bared his fangs and screeched out.
“I said SAVE IT BASTARD!”
It was dead silent on the mountain trail, no bird was chirping, no leaves were rustling, not even a sound of heavy breathing was heard. If you listened closely you could hear the beating heartbeat of every living thing, which was quite a feat unto itself, but it was suffocating to two demons facing each other on the mountain.
MK was the one who finally broke the silence as he walked up next to him, while making sure his footsteps were loudly heard, and gently spoke. “Dad, your glamor.”
That was what snapped Macaque out as he looked down to his scar filled hands and already instinctively knew the ones on his face, let alone the rest of his body, was prominent. So, he took a long deep breath as he held one hand over his blind eye and released it as he put the glamor back on.
“I’ll be leaving first starlight, yell if you need me,” he quietly said as he lowered his hand to reveal the scarless eyes.
“I will…are you okay dad?” He worriedly asked as he looked at him.
Macaque could only muster up a small smile at his child care as he ruffled his hair, before sinking into the shadows.
Not once looking back to his old friend.
MK could only faintly watch his dad shadow travel and as soon as he knew he couldn’t see him anymore, he whirled around to the Monkey King, who still had a very horrified expression, with a pissed off look, “What the hell was that?!”
“What have I done?” He hoarsely said as he still had his eyes on the traveling shadow even when it had long escaped from the mountain.
“I don’t know, maybe jump to conclusions!” He snarked out to the Monkey King for the first time. He respects him, he really does and that won’t change, but that he cares more for the monkey who raised him and took care of him for all those years. So yeah, he is getting some answers out of him whether he likes it or not.
Monkey King, who hadn't moved since Macaque left, finally pried his eyes away from the moving shadow, no matter how much he wanted to follow, and looked to his student. “I messed up real bad, didn’t I.”
“If you mean by indiscriminately yelling at my dad before he even had the chance to speak then promptly fighting him and then going back to yelling at him once more? Then yeah, you did,” he sarcastically said.
He winced at the harsh, but very justifiable, tone. “…so, he’s your dad?” And he still can’t help but ask, because Macaque raising a child was not even on his list of things he could have imagined.
“Geez, how’d you figure that one out?”
“You get your snark from him don’t you,” he couldn’t help but say.
“Oh yeah,” he unashamedly said, “he did raise me after all.”
Wukong wilted at the reminder, “He did, didn’t he.” It was after he said that was when he squatted down, gripped his hair, and let out a short burst of frustration. He doesn’t know if he can come back from this, if things were bad before, they are absolutely horrendous to the pit of despair now.
The student silently calmed down as he blinked at the monkey sage actions then a few things finally clicked into place. “You still care about him.”
“What, the books don’t emphasize enough of our ‘wonderful’ relationship to each other,” Monkey King couldn’t help but sarcastically say. He has read the book and let’s just say that there are some details so far off that it just makes him want to completely rip all his fur off.
“No, but dad does tell me that you were his first friend,” he plopped down next to him.
The Monkey King, “He talks about me?”
“Ohhh yeah, he told me all the things you guys did together. Like that one time where you tried to trick a corrupt ruler by disguising as a pair of priests.”
“To be fair, the two of us were really hungry and that buffet that he had looked real damn good, it’s not our fault that the man got outed in the end and was left on the cliff…well only a little bit,” he snorted. You can’t blame them for being hungry, but they may have had a rather loud conversation out loud about the extravagant feast they saw to a couple of people…in the market of the common folks….and as they were in the middle of a shortage. Things just tend to escalate sometimes, but can you really blame them?
“Dad just said that what goes around comes around.”
“That too,” he said with a small chuckle as he trailed off and sighed, “he was with me since almost the beginning. When I left the mountain for the first time, I didn’t have my monkey nor did I know anyone, so meeting him was a blessing.”
“He told me the two of you met after you ate a mountain deity offering,” MK said.
“Like I said, I was still new to the world and I barely knew a damn thing, but he was there for basically it all and has to be one of the main reasons I’m even alive today, cause I can be real and admit that he was at least 75 percent of my impulse control.” He remembered all those times he had run off at the sight of the newest shiny objects or the next food and the amount of times Mac had to drag his ass away from there before the two of them were caught. “And I managed to ruin that all…twice!” He moaned out as he gripped his hair once more in frustration.
MK just watched his teacher silently self deprecate himself, he knows what it looks like, and sighed as he patted his shoulder. “It’s not totally over.”
“I essentially attacked him twice! I know some of those scars were made by me during our first battle and his eye,” he stopped short as he could feel the bile rise up as he remembered the hazy honey color eye floating back into his mind. “I made him blind, he is blind in one eye and I did that. Fuck I did that…I can’t forgive myself let alone even think he will forgive me.”
“Dad can hold a grudge, but he can also forgive. By the gods knows how many times I messed up before,” he lightly jokes.
“You're his kid and by the looks of it, someone he cares for greatly.” He doesn’t think he has ever seen his friend that worried before unless it was aimed towards him whenever he got badly injured. There is a painful tug of something weird coming from his stomach at the thought.
“And you're his friend, someone who he also cares for,” he shot back. “The two of you need better communication, but you two aren’t shattered and crushed up by a horse hoof during a race, just a bit broken but it can still be fixed.”
The monkey looked his student in the eye, “You really think so?”
“Mmhmm, Dad has missed you for all those years after all.” If he was any less observant he would have missed his Dad's nostalgic expression whenever he told him a story about them or his sad eyes when he would ask questions about the Monkey King.
“He’s not the only one,” he said as he finally sat down from his squatting position. “…can you tell me more about him?” It was about time he got reacquainted with his friend, they had over five hundred years after all. Maybe it was time to go back in the world again and see what he has been missing out on.
“Well he likes to garden,” he switched positions and crossed his legs together, this was gonna be a long talk.
Wukong's eyes blinked rapidly, “Now that’s new, I remembered that when we needed food we would just go to someone's farm and take some food there, there were so many times Mac took out weeds by accident, but damn it we still ate it just for the laughs.” He gave a small smile.
“He still does that from time to time out of habit.”
“Complains about it getting stuck in his teeth?” His eyes brighten.
“All the time,” he agreed.
The monkey let out a short chuckle, “Is that why you guys were up here? To get more plants?”
“Well no, we were here getting some herbs.”
“Herbs? Like for medicine?” He shot straight up and tried to ignore the growing pit of horror in his stomach. “Are you sick? Is he sick? Are you guys okay?!”
MK quickly shook his hands to dispel the worries monkey, he already had one, he was not looking for another. “No, nothing like that. He’s…well I guess basically a Doctor, I mean no one really puts a name on it, but yeah he usually collects herbs for his supply.”
“I’m sorry, he’s a what?!” Great! And here’s another thing he could have never imagined that Macaque being! “When-how-why did he become a Doctor?!”
“Honestly, he just said he was bored one day and saw Ping making medicine and decided to learn from him,” he shrugged. He should be glad that the Monkey King has come out of his depressive state, despite his over reaction to his dad…though it is quite funny.
“Whose Ping?” He knows that this is not someone the both of them knew when they were still friends, so this must have happened after.
“Ping is the human who-” MK cut himself off as he realized that perhaps he shouldn’t just tell his father personal secrets to someone he just had a fight with. “…who is one of his friends, he can tell you more about it if you ask.” Which will not be any time soon.
“Yeah, I’ll do that,” he said with deceit dripping from his voice, totally spacing out when he heard the word ‘friends’. “What else?”
“He sometimes likes to do shadow puppetry in the theater.”
“Now that’s something I know he won’t give up, I remember that he was more dramatic than me when it concerns his puppetry.”
“That’s what I said and he still is!”
Now everything still wasn’t fine despite the lighthearted atmosphere that surrounded the two. There was still a bone deep hurt that needed much time to be healed and nurtured between the two immortal simians, but this was the first step, no matter how small this may be. It will take time, patience, and so many apologies before anything can be forgiven, but for now it was the time to learn and let both monkeys calm down. For when it is time to meet once more, it is needless to say that a certain impulsive simian is going to go full force.
The sun was setting by the time MK got back from the mountain, he decided to go to his dad’s place for the night after he called up Pigsy to tell him the small change. When he entered through the front door the whole house was completely dark and silent as not a single light was on nor a single sound was uttered.
‘Oh no,’ he silently thought to himself as he made his way past the living room, passed their bedroom and finally faced a closet where they stored all of their pillows and blankets. He gently opened the door and his heart dropped as he saw his dad there in almost pitch darkness, kneeling with his head almost touching the ground and his hands covering all six of his ears as he methodically tapped the back of his neck with his middle finger.
MK opened his mouth to ask if he was alright, but promptly closed it as he realized just how stupid that question was, so instead he quickly head out to gathered some items before coming back. He placed the bowl of fruit and water bottles on the shelf above, he gently pried his dad hands off his ears and put the headphones on instead, he made sure to wrap the weighted blanket around the both of them, and he gently redirected his dad head to instead lay on his lap after he closed the door and began to groom his dad mane.
And yet throughout this entire process, Macaque had yet to utter a single word nor even shift an inch from his spot.
The boy knew he wasn’t going to respond, but he still can’t help himself but feel a twinge of anger directed at the Monkey King at what he has done.
‘This whole day was a disaster and a half,’ he narrowed his eyes as he numbly threaded his fingers in the fluffy fur. ‘He may be a God, but he’s not infallible…he’s not perfect.’ And with this little thought, he began to really realize that despite status or power, no one can be truly perfect. Not the Monkey King nor any other higher being that claims to be above them all. It’s a cynical thought, but he thinks that maybe it’s more real than he can imagine.
But those thoughts can wait for now. Right now, all he wants to do is focus on grooming this fur and just being there for his dad.
In the forest when the moon was high all were mostly sleeping and all was calm. Though some were laid to rest, there were other creatures, both mythical and not, that were waking up to their nightly routine. Everything was the same as always and nothing had changed enough to really bother any creatures despite.
Not even for a newly planted Plum Blossom seed that lay deep within the forest.
33 notes · View notes
firewoodfigs · 3 years
Note
and A and B collapsed in it, exhausted
ERI!!! ILY 🥰💕
VADE ILY MORE <3 tysm for the prompt and I'm so sorry it took me so long to get back to it, but I hope you enjoy!! :')
(side note: this kinda spiralled out of control so it might be a better idea to read it on ao3 instead LMAO)
                                        xxxxx
There are a few things that her mind manages to dimly register before it loses focus.
One, the ongoing chaos around her — the yelling and screaming and the achingly familiar smell of smoke. Riza hopes that means the unit is safe, that the mission has succeeded. Adrenaline rushes through her veins as she struggles to remain alert, but her faculties are stubbornly uncooperative, and the only thing it really manages to absorb at the moment is pain.
Pain. Her hand is drenched, sticky. Riza inhales shakily, her breath coming out in short, ragged gasps. She’s bleeding from her side, and she has to bite her lip to keep from crying out as she presses down on her side. Her efforts are in vain; blood continues to drip on broken cobblestone like water from a leaking tap. She’ll probably need a blood transfusion or two. Riza just hopes she hasn’t punctured a lung (though she can certainly feel the makings and telltale signs of a broken rib or two).
The last thing she hears a voice she’d recognise anywhere — Hawkeye, stay with me. Stay awake, you hear me?Instinctively, Riza tries to obey the command, but it’s hard when pain is spreading through her chest like an exploding star; when she can barely catch her breath. She picks up on the desperation in his voice as he lapses into informality — Riza, stay with me, please. You’re going to be okay— and manages to choke out an apology before her consciousness flickers like a spoiled lamp. She wants to tell him to not worry, to tell him how she’s truly felt for the past decade, but the last spots of light in her vision seems to fade away, somewhere far beyond her reach, and —
And then her world turns to black.
When she finally wakes, her world is an astonishing shade of white.
Riza blinks groggily. She would have pushed herself into a sitting position, but the dull ache in her side seems to hint that that would be a spectacularly stupid thing to do. So she continues lying down, feeling very much like an invalid. Her nose wrinkles at the nauseating stench. Antiseptics. Disinfectants.
The hospital.
Riza bites back a groan and, this time, fighting any sense of rationality and self-preservation, attempts to seat herself up. She hears a matronly voice fussing over her predicament — something about her being as stubborn as Colonel Mustang had described her to be, and would have snorted aloud at the hypocrisy if the morphine hadn’t done its job so expediently.
Riza falls back asleep, the pain slowly ebbing away as a hand reaches out to gently stroke her hair.
The next time Riza wakes, her world is spinning, tilting on its axis to create an indecipherable blur of colour. There are, however, blobs of light swimming in her vision, warm and golden —  daylight? It must be daytime, then.
Riza swallows a pained groan and forces her eyelids open. Her vision is hazy, but she notes, to her dismay, that the ceiling is still conspicuously white. That must mean she’s still in the hospital. She clears her throat and blinks, hard, thinking it might just be a hallucination or a side effect of having too much morphine in her system, but her surroundings remain the same.
The only difference this time is the voice that greets her. It’s deep and decidedly masculine, one that she would recognise anywhere. (One that has been haunting her dreams.)
“Are you awake, Lieutenant?”
“I am,” Riza mumbles. She will never understand how her body can be so tired even after she’s slept so much. She doesn’t even know how long she’s been out for. “How long was I out for?”
“Nearly two days,” Roy whispers, and she immediately detects the worry in his voice. She wonders if he’s gotten much sleep over the past two days; the dark circles lining his concerned eyes tells her that he hasn’t. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m alright, sir.”
Riza shakes her head lightly in an effort to dispel some of the dizziness. Slowly, she tries to ease herself into a sitting position, wincing as a sudden wave of pain surges through her abdomen.
“Lieutenant!” he half-yells, chidingly. Riza winces again when he circles his arms around her torso without any warning. “You shouldn’t be doing that.”
“Hypocrite,” Riza manages, weakly.
Another burst of pain renders her speechless soon enough, and then she’s gripping onto the bed rail like it’s a lifeline.
Roy ignores her comment well enough. Gently, he adjusts her back into bed, the hem of his black wooden scarf tickling her cheek as he does so. She mutters something about propriety and regulations, but Roy ignores that as well, instead bringing a cup of water to her lips. Riza sips at it slowly. She hadn’t realised how dry her throat was; it makes her feel like she's just swallowed sandpaper. Like she’s back in the desert.
Riza mumbles a thanks when she’s done and leans back against the hard pillow, bringing a hand up to shield her eyes from the sunrays. She is so very tired. She thinks she could use another shot of morphine, possibly another day in bed, but there are bigger, more important things at hand, like —
“How did the rest of the mission go?”
“We’ve managed to sort everything out, Lieutenant,” Roy reassures, frowning at her priorities. “Don’t worry about it. Worry about yourself, first.”
“You’re being hypocritical again, sir.”
“Maybe, but we can save this argument for another time.” His tone brooks no disagreement, and before Riza can so much as protest he’s already taken the liberty of laying her back down. “For now, rest.”
“I’ve been resting for two days, sir.”
“Clearly, you haven’t had enough,” he says, smirking in a way that makes her want to pull the trigger on him. Regrettably, though, the hospital has a no-arms policy, and she finds that even the pistol that she always keeps hidden on her thigh has been removed. Riza huffs. “Since you haven’t shot me yet for putting you in bed.”
“I will soon enough,” Riza mutters, but the words sound tauntingly hollow to her ears. Her eyelids are starting to feel heavy again. She can feel herself slowly ebbing away, drifting back into a void.
“I look forward to that. And Lieutenant?”
“Yes?”
As much as she tries to fight it, being awake for the past ten minutes has taken a toll on her still-battered body, and she’s unbelievably exhausted. Being so drugged up probably doesn’t help, either.
“Do not, under any circumstances, risk your life like that for me. Ever again.”
That’s what a bodyguard is for, is what Riza wants to say, but sleep reclaims her before she can properly protest, and it’s dark again. (She thinks she’d managed to articulate a resolute no, though.)
The rest of the unit, along with Rebecca, visits her the next morning.
Riza manages to remain civil and courteous throughout the entirety of their fussing — which is a miracle, she thinks, when Rebecca and Havoc are sobbing like she’s actually dead. (Riza rolls her eyes and pats Rebecca on her hand when nobody’s looking, hoping the contact will provide some confirmation that she is still in fact among the living.)
Falman, Breda and Fuery are, thankfully, a lot more composed than them, although Fuery himself looks like he’s well on the verge of crying too. Riza distracts him expertly with questions about Hayate’s well-being, and he perks up immediately at the mention of her beloved pup (who’s presently under his care, because he’s the only one she can entrust Hayate with).
“Alright, alright, the Lieutenant needs her rest,” Roy announces at last, much to her relief. As much as she appreciates their concern, she does need her rest, and she will probably need an extra dose of morphine, too; Riza can feel the ache in her side starting to flare up again. “It’s time to go.”
Riza hears a chorus of get well soon, Lieutenant, mingled with a couple of tearful goodbyes. (Rebecca mumbles something about Roy being a selfish prick who’s kidnapping Riza for himself and warns Riza against Stockholm syndrome. Riza rolls her eyes and tells Rebecca to stay away from shitty soap operas.)
Riza waves at them as Roy ushers them out. When the room is empty again, he turns his undivided focus back to her, and asks, “Are you feeling alright, Lieutenant?”
“I’m fine,” Riza insists, although her mind is already devising a way to ask for morphine without him noticing. She’s sure that he’ll kick up a fuss if he realises that she’s in pain; the last thing she needs is him moping around day and night like a kicked puppy.
Slowly, like she’s testing the waters, Riza eases herself up - with some uninvited assistance from her commanding officer - and breathes heavily, resting her head on the pillow. She notes the weird contraption around her waist and stifles a childish groan. The fact that it’s still there means that she’ll probably be wheelchair-bound for a while, but she’s already starting to feel restless from being stuck in bed for so long. (Riza wonders if this was how Roy had felt, when he had been hospitalised after his affray with Lust. She thinks she can better empathise with his decision to recklessly discharge himself now.)
“Are you hungry?” Roy asks suddenly. Riza shakes her head, but he continues anyway. “I made chicken soup.”
Riza watches, somewhat nonplussed as he extracts a thermal flask from an insulated bag and sets everything up on the overbed table. The sudden role reversal discomfits her a little. Riza feels strangely out of her element, being cared for like this (when it’s normally the other way round).
“Thank you, sir,” she says, both embarrassed and touched by his concern. “You didn’t have to trouble yourself —”
“It’s no trouble at all, Lieutenant,” he interjects gently, smiling.
Riza shrugs and sips at the homemade soup wordlessly. The warm liquid glides down her throat easily enough, and she lets out a hum of approval, pleasantly surprised by the sudden display of culinary talent from her commanding officer.
“This is really good, by the way. Since when did you learn how to make such good chicken soup?”
“Since ten tries and a burnt kitchen.”
Riza almost sputters. “What?”
“Just kidding. I’m not that bad of a cook,” he says, grinning as he ladles out a bowl for himself.  Riza stares at him disbelievingly. Burning down a kitchen is not something altogether impossible for him, considering his track record of culinary mishaps. “Really, Lieutenant. Give me some credit. I’ve improved quite a fair bit since my days as a teenage boy.”
“Well, this proves it, for sure,” she says, and his grin widens.
“I’m glad you like it.”
Riza offers a small smile of her own in return.
“I do, thank you.”
They eat in companionable silence. Riza is relieved to note that his mood has improved somewhat. since the last time she’d been awake. She might’ve been too drugged up to fully comprehend her surroundings previously, but she had been conscious enough to note the anger and frustration, the worry in his tone when he’d reprimanded her for her recklessness. And it’s easy to understand why was mad; he’s always had a peculiar habit of putting his subordinates above his own well-being.
Still, Riza doesn’t think she’s done anything wrong. She’s simply doing her job, and he’s simply being overprotective. She is his bodyguard, after all, and that itself entails sacrifice where necessary. And she would do it, in the blink of an eye, if it means keeping him out of harm’s way.
But Riza also knows him well enough to know when to back down from a losing argument, and so she simply pretends that conversation never happened. She’s satisfied with the way things are between them — for now, at least.
Above all, she’s just relieved to see that he’s safe.
Later in the afternoon, a nurse comes in to check on Riza.
“How are you feeling today?”
“Better,” she says, even as the growing ache in her side threatens to expose her lie. Roy looks at her, unconvinced, and Riza feels a sudden, uncharacteristic impulse to give the nurse a hug when she ushers Roy out for privacy reasons. She’s not really the hugging sort, but this nurse - Jade, Riza notes, from the little white name tag hanging from her breast pocket - definitely deserves one. “When can I be discharged?”
“Not so soon, my dear.” Jade clucks her tongue, as if disappointed that Riza had even asked such a thing. “We’ll have to keep you around for at least a week more, but you should be able to start physiotherapy in a couple of weeks.”
Riza visibly cringes when she hears this. Two weeks is a long time to be hospitalised, and she’ll probably be out of commission for a while at this rate — especially if physiotherapy is involved. (Throw in an overprotective boss in the mix, and she’s basically done for.)
“Is it possible for us to start physio earlier?”
“No such luck, sweetie,” and Riza cringes again, this time at the term of endearment. She’s always been a little uncomfortable around nurses like these, simply because the military doctors are usually the stoic, no-nonsense with no time for coddling.
(Between the two, though, she’s not sure which she prefers, but Riza decides she just hates hospitals in general. The rooms are stifling and smell like a mortician’s lab, even though it’s a place that is technically supposed to keep her alive and nurse her back to health.)
“I’ll be fine. Really, I’m feeling much better already.”
Jade sighs, the disapproval apparent on her pretty face. “Have you even tried walking yet?”
“No, but -”
“Good, you shouldn’t. You’ll have to use a wheelchair for a few days, before switching to a walking frame.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You heard me,” Jade confirms, sounding a little more apologetic this time. “I would strongly advise against trying — unless you want to risk worsening your injury, you’re better off staying in bed.”
Riza frowns, very much displeased with her current predicament. As she’d predicted, she is, in fact, wheelchair-bound, but she hadn’t thought that she would have to rely on a walking frame, too. She’s never had to rely on one before — not since she was first trying to learn how to skate on the rink that one winter as a girl of ten.
“I’m sorry,” Jade says, patting her on the hand sympathetically. “I’m sure you’ll get better soon, with time and rest.”
Riza shrugs, feigning nonchalance. She’s irritated at the situation, but there's really not much she can do right now other than rest. Besides, her commanding officer will find a way to keep her here somehow even if she tries to escape.
“Alright. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now, do you need anything else? More painkillers, perhaps?”
Riza nods grimly. She turns away as the nurse administers another dose of morphine, and adjusts herself on the pillows in helpless resignation as she waits for it to take effect.
“Take good care of her. She’s a stubborn one.”
Riza hears these words faintly, through the charged, cottony silence filling her drug-addled mind. She tries to protest, but the words seem to come out like garbled nonsense, and the last thing she hears before falling back into unconsciousness is something that both irks and warms her heart immensely.
“I will.”
Riza begins her first physiotherapy session exactly a week later.
By some stroke of luck, she’d managed to bring it forward, after proving to the doctors that she had, in fact, made a rather speedy recovery — even if said recovery meant that she was still mostly stuck to a wheelchair. Her commanding officer hadn’t been too pleased, of course, but it was still worth being able to get out of her room and get up on her own two feet.
That doesn’t mean it’s easy, though. Recovery is an agonisingly slow, painful process. Riza finds herself trembling, just from supporting herself with a walking frame. It feels like someone is repeatedly stabbing her at her side, and she has to pause every now and then just to catch her breath.
Riza grimaces. She hasn’t felt this winded since the last time she’d had an awful case of bronchitis. Her legs are like jelly, and there’s a sheen of sweat that’s starting to stick to her fringe from all the heaving and wincing she’s been doing the past five minutes.
Still, Riza forces herself to keep going. She’s had worse, anyway, and this is nothing compared to the survival camps she’d endured back in the academy.
(It’s also nothing compared to what Havoc is going through.)
“Now try to put your left foot forward, Miss Hawkeye,” the physiotherapist says, and Riza follows suit, thinking of her friend as she takes her first steps. “Very good, now slowly, with the other foot.”
Riza continues as instructed, even as a fresh jolt of pain shoots through her side. Riza grits her teeth and staggers forward. She has to do this. She has to get better soon for the unit, for him. It’s bad enough that he’s already missing one subordinate, and she would rather die trying than be a liability.
(The thought of being an additional burden on his already worn shoulders is simply unbearable.)
“How did your first session go?” Roy asks later that evening, when he comes around to visit her. It’s already way past visiting hours, but Riza doesn’t need to ask to know that he’s probably charmed some poor, ingenuous nurse into breaking the rules and letting him in.
“Fine.”
Roy frowns. “I still think you should have waited for a bit longer before —”
“I’m fine,” Riza insists. The exhaustion is beginning to creep up on her, and she doesn’t think she can sustain much of a conversation - much less an argument - today. Riza notes the dark rings under his eyes and immediately softens. Guilt creeps into an overworked system, urging her towards a feeble attempt at reassurance. “I promise, sir. Don’t worry about me.”
Roy stares at her meaningfully, and then sighs as if to say, you know that’s an impossible request. He offers a wry smile.
“Alright,” he says, making himself comfortable on her bedside stool. He folds his arms across his chest and yawns, joking about increased paperwork and reduced efficiency in his absence, but Riza can tell that he’s still in a sombre mood; she doesn’t need to ask to know that he’s been beating himself up over her current situation.
Riza knows, however, that it’s not something that he’s particularly keen on discussing, and so she plays along with a teasing shrug.
“I hope you’re not slacking off, sir.”
“Oh, you know me. I wouldn’t dare.”
“I’ve known you long enough to know about your atrocious work ethic, sir.”
He laughs. “I’ll work on that, Lieutenant.”
“Good.”
Roy continues visiting her the following evenings, after her physiotherapy sessions. He’d insisted on tagging along at first, but Riza had convinced him that it was better for her to do them alone. It’s bad enough that the nurses are starting to think that there’s something more than a strictly professional relationship between them.
Besides, he’d made a promise to not skive off at work. That had been enough to get him off her back in the afternoons, but not enough, apparently, to prevent him from breaking in and visiting her at night.
“You don’t have to come every day, sir,” Riza says, because she knows he’s been basically shuttling between her and Havoc. The fatigue is obvious on his face; his complexion is paler than usual, taking on an almost sickly tone, and the rings under his eyes are starting to become almost bruise-like.
“Nonsense,” he scoffs. Riza rolls her eyes, because he’stalking nonsense. “I’m fine.”
“You look tired.”
“Is that meant to be a jibe at my appearance?”
“Yes,” she deadpans, pointing at the stubbles on his chin. “You haven’t even shaved today.”
Roy waves a dismissive hand as he carefully pours out her favourite congee into a bowl. “I still managed to charm my way in, so I’m sure I’m still as good looking as ever.”
“With all due respect, sir, you’re not.”
“Really, now, don’t be insubordinate —”
“I’m serious, sir.”
Roy regards her with abject horror, and heads to the bathroom to fix his stubbles while she slowly savours the steaming bowl of congee that he’s left on the table. Roy leaves an hour later, and at first Riza thinks he’ll take a hint and take the day off tomorrow, but he shows up the following evening, anyway, remarkably clean-shaven this time.
As much as Riza knows that her expectations are unrealistic, it’s disheartening to see that she’s still having trouble walking. It’s been nearly two weeks since surgery, and she’s received feedback that she’s making tremendous progress in physiotherapy, but it’s still too slow. She’s still not discharged. She’s still not allowed back at work, she’s still mostly confined to bed, and —
And she’s still useless.
She hates it, of course, but there’s really not much she can do right now. She can’t return to work without her commanding officer filing a restraining order of some sort, and she can’t discharge herself without an entire army of hospital staff hot on her tails.
She can, however, get past the nurses who are a little too preoccupied with the rumour mill. And so she does. Riza wheels herself furtively into a lift without attracting attention, and, having brought along her inconvenience of a walking frame, takes her rehabilitation into her own hands. She ventures out into the hospital garden, clumsily pushing herself towards standing. The floor is cold and the air tastes salty, but it’s the most alive she’s felt in ages. Her first step is shaky, and so is the next, but she is walking without supervision. Taking baby steps.
Riza smiles, even as her arms tremble from having to hold up her entire weight. She soldiers on anyway, persisting in her hobbling. It’s a strangely liberating feeling to walk by herself after weeks of enduring multiple sets of watchful, paranoid eyes.
But maybe she’s overestimated herself. The ache in her side returns with a vengeance, without warning, causing her to pause in her tracks.
Riza leans against the railings, gasping for breath. She presses a hand to her side as another wave of pain strikes. She’s a far cry from her usual athleticism, now. She doubts she’ll be able to ace the annual military fitness test this year like she normally does (she’s never fallen below the gold standard since graduating from the academy).
“Hawkeye!”
Riza stumbles when she hears her name. She only just manages to latch onto a nearby railing, but her limbs seem hellbent on giving way. She braces herself for the impact, expecting to fall flat on her face, but a hand reaches out to steady her from behind just before she crashes to the floor.
A little more than relieved, Riza exhales shakily and clutches onto her walking frame, with both hands this time.
“Hawkeye,” she hears again, and she knows instantly that she’s in for an (unnecessary) lecture.
“Sir,” she heaves. “I’m alright. Sorry for the scare.”
“What are you doing here by yourself?” Roy exclaims, and she shushes him with a displeased glare.
“Keep it down, please. We’re in a hospital.”
“Exactly,” he huffs, his voice taking on a reprimanding tone. “You shouldn’t be out and running about by yourself. Where are those nurses, anyway? Why isn’t anyone keeping you company? What if —”
“Sir,” Riza stresses, her irritation seeping through. The last thing she needs right now is to be treated like a helpless child. What she needs, actually, is some affirmation that she’s still a valuable asset to the team. Still useful. “I’m fine. You worry too much.”
“You’re not helping with that, Lieutenant.”
“The last I recalled, you were running around with a similar injury.”
“Yes, but I was an idiot, and you’re not.”
Riza smiles. “I can’t say you’re wrong there.”
“Anyway,” he continues, clearing his throat as if to regain some of his lost dignity. “You were nearly caught in an explosion, and then shot by a bullet. That’s far worse than getting impaled in the gut.”
“When you put it like that, I’m not too sure which is worse, sir,” Riza says. As much as she appreciates his concern, the double standard is beginning to grate on her nerves; she thinks he should at least be grateful she hasn’t broken out of the hospital by sheer force yet.
Roy huffs. “Stubborn as always, aren’t you?”
To that, Riza simply shrugs. She leans back against a nearby vending machine, enjoying the fresh air and dim lights for a bit before being forced to go back.
Roy regards her with a meaningful look like he’s debating whether to scold her or something else. Something she doesn’t want to expressly acknowledge. Not yet, at least — not during this crucial period of their lives that could very well dictate how the rest of it will go.
(But this is how it’s always been, Riza thinks. They’ve never needed words to convey the unutterable. In many ways, their actions have always spoken louder than its verbal counterparts, and it’s probably best for them to keep it this way, to suppress the felonious sentiments that they’ve already kept so closely guarded for years.)
“Put your feet on top of mine, Hawkeye.”
“Sir?”
“Just do it. You’re not that heavy,” he says, gently pulling her forward so that she no longer has the vending machine for support. Something nudges at her toes, and Riza raises a brow, as if to question whether he’s genuinely serious about this. “Go on.”
“You could end up with two broken feet, sir —”
“In which case I’ll get an extended leave from work, so really, that’s a win-win.”
“Seems like you’ve given this a lot of thought,” Riza says. She laughs quietly at his antics, and she doesn’t need to look at him to know that he’s smirking triumphantly, like he’s just bested her in a game of chess.
“Of course I have. Now get on, it’s better than walking around like you’re fully recovered.”
And because she knows better than to fight a losing argument, Riza just does as she’s told.
Gingerly, she puts her feet on top of his, mindful to not fracture anything. Roy pulls her close to him, wrapping his arms around her torso — whether to prevent falling, or to embrace her, she’s not sure, but she doesn’t mind, not really. Being shackled to a hospital bed for two weeks is enough to make her crave and cave into human contact.
“This feels an awful lot like we’re dancing, sir.”
“Again, a win-win.”
She rolls her eyes. “How very opportunistic of you.”
Laughter rumbles from his chest, genuine and unbridled.
“You know me. I would never pass up on an opportunity to dance with my favourite subordinate.”
“I’ll be sure to relay your message to Havoc, sir.”
“Thank you,” he says, and Riza bites back a laugh at the obvious sarcasm. “Alright, now just follow my lead. Move your left foot back.”
She does as she’s told, again. Roy repeats his instructions for the other foot, and the cycle repeats, until they’re trudging around in small circles. It’s like graceless dancing, Riza thinks, observing him silently as he frowns from concentrating so intensely on their every step. It’s just like when he’d first tried to teach her how to dance. (Dancing around campfires during the pumpkin harvest had never really been her thing - in part because it involved copious amounts of socialising and talking, and in part because she was born with two left feet - but it had been Roy’s, evidently. She hadn’t the heart to rain on his parade, and so had reluctantly obliged when he’d asked her to dance.)
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing, sir.”
His frown deepens, and he stops moving for a moment.
“Are you tired?”
“I’m alright, sir.”
“You always say that,” he murmurs. “But I don’t want you to overdo it. Let’s get you back.”
Riza sighs resignedly. She is starting to feel exhausted, but there’s a part of her that doesn’t want this shared, private moment to end, either. She’s been enjoying it more than she should. More than she would ever admit.
“Alright,” she says, but Roy surprises her and pulls her in for a hug.
“I just wanted you to know that you’re not useless, Riza. Not at all.”
Her throat runs dry.
“Sir?”
“I know you’ve probably been feeling that way,” he continues, running a hand through her hair, now limp and sickeningly dry from all the time spent away from sunshine and conditioner. “Which is why you’ve been pushing yourself so hard. But I promise you you’re not. You could never be.”
Riza chews on her bottom lip contemplatively. She wants to ask how he’d read her mind, but there’s no point asking questions that she already knows the answers to. They’ve known each other for a long time, after all (she knows he must’ve been thinking the same thing during his earlier convalescence, too).
“I - thank you, sir.”
Roy nods, his chin tickling the top of her head.
“Besides, that word is meant for me, not for you.”
Riza laughs, but it comes out muffled as he continues stroking the back of her head.
“Your level of self-awareness today is off the charts.”
“I know,” he smirks. “Shall we?”
She nods, and Roy guides her back into her wheelchair. Their extensive experience with covert operations is particularly handy during a time like this; Roy manages to somehow evade all of the staff on duty and successfully wheels her back into her room without arousing suspicion.
Riza is so enervated that she practically sinks into the mattress without protest, even as Roy helps her in. She eyes him as he makes himself comfortable - as comfortable as one can be - in the old, lumpy chair beside her.
“Sir,” she croaks out. Riza clears her throat and tries again. “Sir.”
“Yes?”
Riza shifts a little to make space. She’s thankful that it’s already evening; she’s pretty sure she’s blushing by now, because she’s never been so bold, so forward before. (He’s usually the one taking initiative when it comes to things like this, but the unhealthy pallor in his skin is enough for her to make an exception.)
“You should rest, too.”
“I am, Hawkeye.”
She shifts a little more to the side. He gets the hint.
“Well, since you’re asking so nicely —”
“I'm not asking.”
Roy laughs, but he slides in any way, military regulations and meddlesome nurses be damned. They’ll be fine, Riza thinks; the nurses aren’t known to be particularly alert past midnight. Besides, Roy is probably sensible enough to get out before dawn, and if he’s not, he’ll probably charm or bribe his way out somehow. She’s not normally so cavalier about breaking the rules, but Roy deserves a night of proper rest, at least. It’s the least she can do after all he’s done for her.
“If you say so.”
“I didn’t,” Riza insists, stifling a yawn. She’s so tired that she thinks she might fall asleep while talking. “Get some rest, sir.”
“You too, Hawkeye,” he says, yawning as he pulls the miserable excuse of a blanket over them both. “Sleep well.”
Riza feels the ghost of a kiss on her temple, before her world becomes blissfully dark.
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Text
HASO, “Milkshake.”
You guys seem to be enjoying it, so here is some more fluff with Eris .
Hope you enjoy!
Eris sat on the couch in the living room; the TV was on, but she wasn’t really paying attention as her eyes kept drifting towards the front window which looked out on the front lawn and the street beyond that. Jim was sitting across the room for her and Martha was working on another clothing pattern for Eris. She had really latched onto the idea of making clothing that was comfortable for her, which Eris appreciated immensely though she wasn’t sure if she'd be confident in wearing them.
People would think she was weird.
She glanced out the window again, hoping to see a car pull up.
He said he would be here today sometime in the afternoon. She knew it was only 11, but she desperately wanted to see him again despite her nerves and her continual feeling of isolation. Why did she care about this man so much? Yes he had saved her life, yes he had provided half of her DNA, but no, he hadn’t chosen to have her, no she hadn’t grow up the normal way with him as a father figure, and no he still wasn’t really in her life.
He was a busy man.
He was important.
And what was she to get in the way of that? 
Nothing, that was the answer. He was big, important and successful, and she was a violation of his privacy.
These thoughts rolled around in her head as she sat on that couch. She knew the vast majority of them were irrational, made by her own mind to make herself feel inadequate, but she just couldn’t push the thoughts away. She wondered when she had turned into this person, someone who wondered about their adequacy and worried about their appearance. Once upon a time she remembered being powerful and terrifying to the people who had wronged her and her little family.
She remembered being confident in what she was doing.
Perhaps it was the loss of her goals and purpose that had driven her to this.
Once the others started getting adopted and brought into new families her work had grown less and less, and she became obsolete and lost in a universe that was vast and unknowable. The others were being taken care of, but no one had returned for her.
No one had seemed to consider that she was just like the others.
She had been created against her will and had never been given time to grow up.
With all the responsibility of other people’s thoughts in her head.
What was she doing?
It was only then that a sudden thought from Jim jogged her from her spiraling self doubt. With his human hearing, he could make out a car pulling into the driveway. She quickly got to her feet and turned to look at the window as the car stopped and the door opened.
Her heart jumped in her chest as Adam stepped out into the early morning sun. He was a little different than she remembered. He stood straighter and held his head higher. He still wore the eye patch she remembered and still had the same messy hair, but there was something about him that changed in the months since she had last seen him.
Behind him, a large blue shape exited the vehicle as well and stepped onto the pavement.
It was him, Sunny, the little doctor named krill, and Adam’s dog.
The dog’s mind was very very strange, driven by impulses and instincts as she snuffled around in the grass, but when she turned back to look at Adam, there was such an intense feeling of love and admiration, Eris had to pull away.
Adam rubbed the dog’s ears and walked up towards the house as the other two followed behind.
Martha got up to grab the door and Jim turned in his seat.
The door opened, and the group of them stepped inside, waffles, the dog, running in to greet Jim, who she had an unusual affinity for.
Martha hugged Adam tight, “So good to see you.” She pulled back hands to his arms, patting them with a frown on her face, “You’ve been working out.”
He smiled slightly, “Thank the Neo-Spartans for that.”
He reached over and shook his father’s hand, as his arms were busy with the pile of dog that had scooted her way halfway onto his lap, “Looking good.”
He nodded to Sunny who stood behind Adam, “I heard about your Sainthood. Congratulations. That’s a big accomplishment.”
Eris felt the pride radiating from Sunny as she lifted her head into the air, “Thank you Jim.”
Martha nodded, “You’ve come along way since we first met.” She gave sunny a hug too 
Martha’s thoughts, once cold towards Sunny had warmed up over the past year. A small part of her even began to see Sunny as another daughter, thought that was the fact about Martha Eris had come to notice. She tended to adopt any little lonely thing she happened to meet; even the little doctor who walked in last.
She smiled, “Dr. Krill I see you haven’t died of complications relating to stress yet.”
The Vrul’s antenna twitched a little and he hummed his amusement, “Not for all of your son’s trying.” Despite how calm the little creature seemed, Eris could see in his head as a myriad of emotions flew through him. He thought that this place was a complete death trap, and had to constantly remind himself that humans were more durable than they looked.
In a way she thought it was kind of cute that he would worry about his companions so much.
Then Adam’s eyes turned to her.
She tried not to listen in on his thoughts, really tried. She didn’t like to pry into people’s minds. A lot of people didn’t like that when they knew what she could do, but she couldn’t help as the flood of strange emotions came pouring from the man’s head. He was a little different than other humans, he had a lot going on in there, and his thoughts and Emotions hit him hard and fast.
What did she expect.
Anger
Bitterness 
Betrayal 
annoyance 
She was invading his privacy, injecting herself into a family she had never been invited into. WOuld he resent her for that? 
But instead she felt.
Excitement.
and...
Nervousness?
What did he have to be nervous about.
The man walked over, and to her surprise picked her up into a crushing hug lifting her feet completely off the floor. She marveled for a moment at how strong he was, forgetting that humans tended to be on the strong side, second only to drev. He set her down smiling, and she felt a jenuine well of happiness wash over her tinted slightly with guilt, though he did a good job at keeping that to the back of his mind.
“You know what, I think you’ve gotten taller.”
She smiled, “Or you’ve gotten shorter.”
He laughed, “That is a complete possibility.” She continued to smile as he patted his chest, “I am getting old after all.” He looked over towards Jim, “Aging like my old man.”
“Shut up.” Jim harumphed, “I can still kick your ass.”
Martha frowned, “Are you implying that I am old Adam.”
He turned to smile at her, “Not a day past 21 mother.”
Martha crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, “Someone is looking for brownie points.”
“That depends, did you make brownies?”
She rolled her eyes, “No, I did not make brownies.”
He frowned.
“But I did muffins.”
“Score.” He said flopping down on the couch next to Eris as Krill floated to sit in the chair next to Jim.
The two of them watched the game, Jim seeming to enjoy Krill grimacing at every play and screaming at the TV for letting the humans knock each other out. He especially seemed to enjoy the medical descriptions of all the horrible issues they were probably having from all of that running into each other.
“So, how are you liking earth.” Adam asked, draping one of his large arms over her shoulders. Eris was struck with how nice the gesture felt and looked up at him, his head tilted to the side.
She smiled slightly, “I like it, it’s so warm and bright, and you have good food.”
“You can eat human food huh?”
She smiled and nodded, “We haven’t tried everything yet, but I really like strawberry ice cream.”
He snorted, “Lord she developed David’s poor taste in cold flavored delectables.” 
For a moment she worried she had really upset him but was soon proven wrong when she could tell he was just teasing her, “So how are you a herbivore or a carnivore.”
Eris felt herself blanch a little bit. If her blood had been more visible through her marble Starborn skin, she might have gone pale.
“I uh…. I haven’t tried eating….. An animal yet.” She shivered at the thought. How could she? How could she eat something that used to be alive?
He smiled seeing the look on her face3, “Don’t worry, no one is going to force you too, though I dare say meat is good, your probably won’t regret trying it at least once.”
From across the room she could hear dr. Krill’s thoughts. He was more similar to a plant than he was to an animal, and the thought of consuming something that was living also baffled him, Though a part of him admired how “metal” It sounded. Eris frowned as she looked at the little doctor.
She had red the mind of Vrul before.
They had been strange to her, very alien in their processes, but Krill.
Well she might have thought he was just a very strange human had she not been able to see him.
The humanizing phenomenon perhaps>?
She couldn't be sure.
“So Eris, how about my offer from earlier, how would you like to go see where I grew up.”
She turned to look at Adam, who was staring at her expectantly. 
She shuffled her feet awkwardly, “I would like that.”
“I will show you all the great and wonderful places I got beaten up. It will be a grand time.” She looked inside to see that he was just joking again. He did have some bad memories associated with the town, though the vast majority of them were good. She could see and feel the vibrant joy of fireworks and colorful parades as they passed through his memory. She could see cold calm lakes and feel wind blowing through the forest.
She nodded.
Martha turned to look at Sunny, “I’d like to keep you and Krill behind tomorrow if you don’t mind.”
Sunny looked up from here she was staring intently at the TV yelling over Jim’s shoulder at the reff who, to her, had made a very poor call.
“Of course, what do you need us for?”
“Alternative clothing designs for aliens. I think there is a large untapped market, and I want to see what I can do with it.”’
Adam grinned across the room at sunny, “Ah, she has finally roped you into being one of her guinea pigs. Enjoy.”
“Adam was such a good little guinea pig, and looked so good in a dress.”
Adam snorted and waved a hand, “I rocked the regency period as I have said before and so I shall say again.”
Eris leaned her head against Adam’s side as she listened to the ongoing banter between the group of people.
She tried not to pry but couldn’t help soak up the memories that popped to the surface of his head. Warm sunlight through an open window, the sound of a sprinkler, and the yell of children’s voices in the distance.
For a moment she became jealous of it before hiding that away in the back of her head.
THere was no use resenting others for something that wouldn’t change.
She would make the best of what she had.
That night, Eris slept in the same room as Sunny, whose memories were remarkably less pleasant than Adam’s, while Adam got his old room back. He would have shared with Krill, though Krill didn’t sleep, and spent most of the night watching late night television, which he found both strange and haunting in ways he wasn’t so sure was good.
She drifted in and out.
She wasn’[t entirely sure if her sleeping patterns were normal. She needed to recharge like the humans did, but seemed to go into a trance rather than into real sleeping. She dreamed, but hose dreams were more hallucinations which appeared about the room around her. Occasionally, she learned that she was able to share the dreams of others, and so took a ride along with Adam as he was joyfully able to fly without the need for a jet or a jetpack.
The feeling was so vivid she jolted awake when it was all over, sure she was going to find herself hurtling through the air.
That morning they had muffins, which melted in her mouth and made her insides growl. They weren’t as vocal as human innards, but apparently the smell of the muffins woke something deep within her.
Sunny was presented with a bowl of dandelions Jim had picked from the backyard that morning.
He was a little nervous that it might seem rude or degrading, but Sunny definitely seemed to appreciate the gesture. Krill didn’t need anything other than a glass of water, though Martha opened the curtain on the back sliding door to let in the early morning sun.
It fell across both her and krill, and her body hummed with its energy.
Adam stood and turned to look at his father when breakfast was over, “Can I borrow the car keys.”
Jim looked over at him skeptically, “You… drive… I don’t know about that.”
Adam frowned, “Oh come on, I fly spaceships for a living.”
Jim snorted, “yet, somehow every time you get in a vehicle that has wheels on it, you turn into my granny with a led foot.”
“Promise I will be safe.”
Eris smiled,  his memories reminding him of all the jokes about being a bad driver .
Jim just rested his hand on his forehead and looked at Eris, “Lord knows I have never known a man with such poor command of motor vehicles. Ans you see if have seen this boy fly a jet in formation with seven other jets four feet apart and his hands are rock steady, but put him in a car, and he overcorrects into the ditch.”
Adam frowned, “That was my FIRST time driving.”
Jim finally relinquished the keys to him, “take the car, it’s an automatic. Everyone knows you shake her brains out if you tried to take the truck.”
Adam grumbled and took the keys, “Its the 41st century dad why do you even still need a stick shift.”
He crossed his arms, “If we are ever attacked by an EMP burst, that car is the only thing that is still going to be running, now get out of here.”
Eris followed Adam out the door, her little black cloak swishing behind her.. She hadn’t wanted to wear anything to obvious yet, so martha had grudgingly decided to at least make her something that looked better than her old ratty sweatshirt. It was a short cloak thing with a hood, and she thought it looked kind of nice,   though she kept the hood low over her face. Adam slid into the driver’s seat of the car and Eris got into the other seat clipping on her seatbelt as he turned and began backing out of the driveway.
They jolted a bit as he moved into first and he glanced over at her, “Don’t tell my dad.”
She smiled somewhat as he inched forward and then began to pick up speed. The look of concentration on his face, and the white knuckles of his hands almost made her laugh. She could see him flying in his memories.
But for a man who loved to fly, he sure hated to drive.
“I’ll show you around the two first, than we can get lunch and after that we will find places to get out of the car and take a look around. Does that sound good?”
She nodded, though she wouldn’t have argued with him if he wanted to ride in circles all day. It was nice being here with him. Since they had last met his thoughts had calmed down significantly.
In the back of the car, his dog waffles sneezed and then rested her chin on the console.
Eris looked sideways at her sensing that the animal was looking for attention. She reached out a nervous hand and stroked the dog’s ears. In the back seat her tail thumped against the upholstery, and she grumbled happily.
“And out your right side of the window is the local high school  or what I like to call the department of corrections against happiness. Eris winced, there was a lot of thought coming out of that building, and none of it very pleasant.
“Thank goodness I only went there for like a year.” he grinned, “I was flying planes after that.” He tapped his chin, “I can never decide if it counts as me dropping out of high school or graduating early, or transferring schools.” he shrugged and kept going, “That’s the middle school on the left, arguably just as bad as the high school but with younger people, and right next to that is the elementary school.”
“So many?”
He shrugged, “Yeah I have no idea why they do it this way, but that’s the way it has been done for a very long time.”
Eris had obviously never gone to school. She didn’t really need to.
She could know anything she wanted to know as long as someone else around her knew it. She could read and write and do math well enough. It was a little harder with muscle memory as that wasn’t something she could read. So, while she knew how to make most of the clothes that Martha could make, she might not be so good with a sewing machine.
“That’s the park. I used to like climbing up to the top of that tree in the middle, and down over there is the drive in movie theater. It’s one of the only ones left in this country, kind of more for nostalgia than anything..” he was able to lift his hand rom the steering wheel and point over at something else, “You have the grocery store over there and then that parking lot is where all the redneck kids used to go to get drunk.”
Eris leaned forward feeding off the memories those strange places gave him. He showed her little hidden spots down by the rivers where his brothers and him used to go swim. He showed her places of significance for the town, and even those locations where he had been sure he had seen an alien. The thought made her smile considering he had one in his car now.
Eventually he turned away and pulled into a small diner on the edge of the town.
He looked over at her, “Best place to eat in town, I know it doesn’t look like much, but trust me get yourself a milkshake at the very least.”
She nodded and nervously got out of the car with him, walking by his side as he made his way across the parking lot and to the little building. A bell dinged as they walked in,  and she found only a few people sitting inside this time of day. The two of them seated themselves at a booth and Eris looked around,
It wasn’t like the many other buildings Eris had seen. It was old with a checkered floor pattern, and red upholstered bar stools. All of it looked new enough and clean enough, though something about it just felt old.
There was a jukebox playing music in the corner, something that had been obsolete for almost two thousand years. No wonder Adam and Martha liked this place. Martha with her doctorate degree in the information age, and Adam with his obsession over turn of the century rock music.
They were greeted just then by a pleasant faced portly little woman with grey hair.
Hermemory was a vibrant one.
She had worked here for a very long time, a sweet southern bell moved up from the south and married to a man in town. She had worked at this diner for over three decades and seen everything that passed through. Adam remembered her as someone who had been a fixture of the town, and his memories were pleasant.
When he had been alone and hurting, he had come here just to be in a safe environment, and this woman had had pity on him and made him a milkshake for free before sitting and talking with him when her shift would allow.
He smiled up at her and she lit up in surprise.
“Why if it isn’t sweet little Adam!” She looked him up and down, “Not so little anymore, lord it was only yesterday you and your brothers were in here causing trouble.”
He smiled, “And you angela, looking as beautiful as the day I met you.:
She snorted and waved a hand, “Oh stop, I’m old and wrinkly.”
“Old, you don’t look a day over twenty five.”
She laughed again, “Your flattery won’t work here dear. I know you have a penthouse on the moon.”
He snapped his fingers, “Pity.”
She turned her head to look at Eris, “And who is your friend.”
He looked across the table, “I uh, this is Eris.” Eris hunkered down in her hood a bit, “She’s my…. Daughter?”
Angela looked skeptical, “Boy i’ve never seen you look at a woman sideways, so forgive me if I don’t believe you.”
Adam smiled a bit ruefully, “Well it’s complicated.
Eris slowly raised her eyes towards the woman’s curiosity and as soon as Angela saw her face she put a hand over her heart and held up a hand, “Lord have mercy!” Eris braced herself for the disparaging thoughts, but instead the woman sat down next to her, “Why dear, why don’t you take off that hood and show us your pretty face.” There we go, and look at that long gorgeous black hair. You know them fancy modeling places in the city might just eat you up.”
She turned to look at Adam, “Aliens? Really?”
“She was grown from my DNA, but…..” He paused mulling something over before deciding to speak.
“But I WAS dating a different alien for a while.”
Angela did not seem surprised.
“For a while? Something went wrong?”
“I screwed it up.” he sighed, “Still trying to see if I can get back in her good graces, but who knows.”
Angela just smiled and shook her head, “You were never going to be normal, Adam, but not that that’s a bad thin.: She stood and looked down at Eris, “What can I get for you.”
Eris cleared her throat and in a small voice, “A milkshake””
Adam nodded up at her, “Strawberry, that’s her favorite.”
She nodded, “And your usual?” 
“Yes please.”
She smiled at them and walked off with a pleasant wave. When she came back Eris learned he was right about their milkshakes. It was so good and filled her mouth with just enough flavor. He polished off a milkshake and a Hamburger, and Eris really had no idea where iit all went. He was a black hole when it came to food.
Angela gave him a hug on his way out, and even spared one for Eris before commenting on her hair again, which Eris would have blushed at if she could blush.
Afterwards he took her just a little out of town to the top of a tall hill. On this hill there was a tree and a tire swing with a picnic table. Clouds rolled lazily over the sun as he sat down in the grass and she sat next to him. She could hear dogs barking in the distance, and somewhere the elementary school was out for recess.
Adam closed his eyes and leaned back in the grass.
“Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my love for space that I forget just how much I love Earth.” He sighed and the two of them could smell freshly mowed grass and pine trees.
She lay back with him.
“I was thinking about maybe staying here with your parents for a while.”
“Your grandparents.” he corrected eyes still closed.
She felt her heart beat faster, “Yeah, if they’re ok with that.”
“I don’t see why not. Mom always liked having someone around to help her with her projects. She uses dad when she can and he suffers silently for her, but I think she'd enjoy your company.”
“You do?” Eris wondered 
“Well I don’t see how she couldn't. I enjoy your company.”
She felt a thrill through her insides.
He turned to look at her, “I AM sorry I can’t be…. more. “ his words didn’t say as much as his thoughts could, and it were those  that helped her understand what he really meant. He would offer to take her in any day of the week, but that would mean her being alone more often than not while he was away, and he didn’ want to do that to her. 
He thought she deserved better.
She wouldn’t argue with him about that, for she understood his reasoning and sentiment and tended to agree.
Both of them knew that his parents were a pretty great idea.
She could be happy here
230 notes · View notes
untaemedqueen · 3 years
Text
Third Wheeling
CEO!Yoongi x Reader
Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut
Chapter 5.
Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage
A/N: Shout out to my squad @ppersonna, @xjoonchildx, @ladyartemesia, @underthejoon for always spitballing ideas with me and reading over what I have written. I’m seriously so lucky to have my girls and my heart is so full with them around <3
Also the beautiful banner is by @xjoonchildx so now we have two gorgeous banners to alternate every other chapter! I’m so happyyyyyy!! Enjoy guys!
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It's usually relaxed Sundays at the Yu penthouse like God intended them to be but instead this Sunday was filled with raucous screaming and over dramatic whining which you aren't exactly used to.
"Leena." Jin warns, almost as if he's speaking to a child. 
You watch as your best friend takes the stuffed animal you won at the Fall Festival out of it's cardboard box before chucking it back onto your unmade bed. It's her act of defiance and it warms your heart slightly to know how much she loves you.
"Relax, would you?" Jin asks, wrapping a painting of yours in bubble wrap.
"No." She huffs out as she folds her arms. 
You find yourself smirking as you wrap your arms around her. She stiffens slightly before melting into the hug and rocking you from side to side.
"I hate him. I hate him. I hate him!" She chants bitterly as Jin sets the painting against the wall.
"Why don't you tell us about your date with Taehyung?" Jin offers, trying to take her mind off of it.
"No." She replies childishly as she hugs you tighter.
Jin sighs gently as he picks up the contract. It's a thick packet with words and legal jargon you find yourself unable to understand.
"I'm going to go read this in the living room. Leena, come with me." Jin commands and she pouts at you as she pulls away.
"At least he bought her pretty things." She grumbles to your other best friend as she follows him out of your bedroom.
You sit on the edge of your bed, taking in the almost empty room. Your heart feels heavy in this moment. It's been almost six years since you moved into this apartment with Leena. 
This new journey will be the start to something extremely different from your norm. This will be the first time that you won't be seeing your best friend everyday, or when you wake up in the morning. It's jarring and more importantly frightening.
You had already quit your managerial position at the hospital, you've already packed up all of the things deemed "acceptable" for Yoongi's home. It really is a new path for your life.
Your parents loved you so very dearly from when you were quite young. They always knew what to say and what to do, always pushed for you to do the right things quite like them. They worked so hard for you to have a better life than they did when they were young. 
You can only hope to be as good of a parent as they were. 
Telling them you were pregnant was terrifying at first. You expected them to be disappointed with you. But, surprisingly, they were supportive. It was incredibly comforting, because no matter what happens you could count on them.
Looking down at your flat stomach, although you don't look different, you feel different. With a sigh, you close your eyes for a fraction of a second before taking in a deep breath.
Everyone keeps telling you to be strong, to have strength and everything will work out but unfortunately it isn't that easy. 
"Hey Y/N." Jin whispers as he leans against the door frame.
Opening your eyes, you give him a smile to try and tell him you're alright.
"The contract looks good. Namjoon did right by you." He tells you, holding up the packet and a pen.
You hold your hands out and he enters the room.
You can hear Leena's feet stomping down the long hallway as you put the packet on your lap. 
She arrives in the doorway with a martini in hand and you tilt your head to her as she scowls. 
"You can't have sex? Is he serious?" She scoffs.
You give a smirk as you sign the contract, "Seems like it. I asked him if I could have sex with him because he's the father and he sat there and literally told me he doesn't understand why I would have sex if I'm pregnant. He seemed repulsed." 
"I'll punch him in the dick." Leena murmurs into her martini glass.
"Yu Leena." Jin scolds as you set the pen down on your lap. 
"What?! He's a huge fucking dick suck." She says waving him off with her hand.
Both you and Jin snort loudly and he lays his head on your shoulder before hugging you tightly. 
"I'm gonna miss you, princess." He whispers.
"Me too." You mumble as you wrap your arms around his.
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"Shouldn't you let the madam buy the child's furniture?" Yoongi hears Maya ask over his shoulder as he scours through the furniture website.
"If her ability to pick out furniture is as bad as her clothing or her shoes, my heir will end up sleeping in a rickety old basket made out of straw and hair." He retorts as she hands him his Irish coffee.
He hears her gentle sigh and he knows it's because somehow, something he said had disappointed her.
"What's wrong, Maya?" He asks as he locks the iPad, throwing it on the other side of the couch to look up at her.
She hums undecidedly before looking down at him as he sips his coffee, "Maybe try to be nice to her. She's going to have a hard time being pregnant in this household with your wife here." 
Her suggestion makes a shiver run up his spine. Just hearing the word pregnant sends him into some deep spiral.
Maya always has been kind hearted. She's always been understanding of others. Even if they don't deserve it.
Like with Sera, Maya will bust her ass to try to make the leech smile even if she gets sneers and snarky remarks in turn. 
She's too pure for this world. Too amazing for this cheap lifestyle.
"I am being nice to her. She gets to move in here." He responds as he sets the coffee cup down on his marble table.
“Min Yoongi.” Maya breathes out above a whisper before closing her eyes.
He watches her brow furrow with shame and he clears his throat uncomfortably before looking around the open gallery of the mansion to try and find any reason for her to leave.
“I didn’t raise you this way. You know that.” The older woman chides as she dusts off some of the priceless paintings that line the walls beside where he sits. 
He lets out a gentle snort as he leans back into the chaise lounge. 
“At least someone raised me, right?” He quips to her as he looks out the bay windows.
The garden seems well tended as of late, after the last fiasco with the uneven hedges he appreciates how much work his new gardeners have put into it.
He begins to wonder what you enjoy, what your hobbies are besides getting pounded in the back of your best friends club. Do you enjoy the finer things? Like yachting or horse racing? Do you even know what they are? Just how sheltered are you?
“What do poor people like? Swap meets?” Yoongi asks as he watches the rose bushes sway in the wind. 
“Yoongi.” Maya whispers dejectedly and he turns his head to her before shrugging. 
“Just asking.” He murmurs as a sparrow lands on the marble bird bath beside the window. 
“Why don’t you just try to get to know her? Ask her things like that without being rude.” Maya replies as she turns to him.
With a grimace, he finishes his coffee before handing the cup to her, “Why do I have to get to know her?”
“Oh my goodness.” Maya mumbles as she leaves the gallery. 
The billionaire watches her leave before slowly turning back to the window to stare aimlessly for a little while longer.
He's always been so jaded, always been so absolutely fucking ruthless because if he didn't protect himself from the outside world who would?
And even if it causes rifts, he just has to be this way. Because you can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs.
The sounds of construction break him out of his thoughts. The contract must have gone through to Namjoon, if your room was already being renovated. Kira must have called and set up everything like she was supposed to.
It's a good thing she isn't just good for her tight snatch. 
Standing up with a groan, he stretches high up to the ceiling. He can hear and feel his bones popping and groaning to welcome a new day in front of him.
As he steps onto the heated marble flooring of the second floor, he knows he should be getting ready for work yet instead his curiosity begins to eat at him. 
What is your room starting to look like? How about the kids room? 
Walking past his walk-in closet, he can see dust and wood shavings on the floor in the hallway. His first thought is to curse out the constructors and threaten them if even a single wooden shard enters his room. But, before he can even open his mouth the shrill voice of his wife enters his ears.
"MIN YOONGI!" He can feel his brain rattling around in his skull, like a cry for help. He sighs loudly, it's really not a surprise that she can be even louder than the construction right in front of him.
Turning to her, he takes in her half asleep look. Her sleeping mask is stuck to her forehead, her black hair jutting out on all sides as she narrows her big, doll-like eyes at him.
"Some people are trying to sleep!" She screeches from the entrance of her wing in the mansion.
He chuckles to himself at her disheveled state and proceeds into his closet to get ready for work.
It probably won't end at that. And, he is absolutely correct.
Peeling off his sleep shirt, his eyes meet his wife's through the mirror as she storms into the room.
"I need beauty sleep, asshole!" She yells at him and he stares at her for a fraction of a second before clicking his teeth and tilting his head.
"You don't need beauty sleep, I paid for that face, leech." He deadpans.
His body is quick to duck out of the way as she takes the nearest object to the door before lobbing it at his head. 
"Did you do as I told you?" She asks, watching him grab his crisp white work shirt.
He doesn't reply, which in turn makes her repeat the same question louder with a high shrill added to her tone.
She's always been impatient and bratty. Once which was endearing to him is now like nails on a chalkboard.
"Hello?! I'm speaking to you! Answer me, asshole!" She yells as she snaps her fingers in his face.
Pressing his tongue to his cheek, he lets out a gentle snort before taking a deep inhale through his nose.
"When do I ever just do as you tell me to, Sera? When has that ever been a goal of mine?" He asks as he grabs his pinstriped tailored pants to match his shirt.
"What? So you didn't?" She asks, clearly shocked.
"Of course I didn't, what are you? Insane? Stupid? I'm a dick but I'm not heartless." He retorts.
"No! Just heartless to me!" She cries out angrily and he chuckles to himself as he grabs a tie.
"I'm sure you'll survive." He mumbles as he pulls the drawer full of his watches open. He watches them spin on their platforms before picking a black Rolex that would go nicely with his pants.
"The plan was for you to make her say that she's my surrogate! Since I'm so beautiful and so famous, she would be carrying my child instead!" Just hearing her ridiculous plan again makes him almost as uncomfortable as the first time he heard it.
In all honesty, as soon as those words left her mouth he didn't even entertain the idea. It seemed so wholly horrible and so absolutely fucking selfish. But, this is Sera we're talking about.
"That was your plan. You think I would ever force her or anyone to have to go in front of people and say their kid isn't their own? Jesus Christ. You really are a fucking leech." He spits out.
"But! But, she's going to use you for your money! She's going to ruin everything!" She screams above the incessant construction.
The sentence sends something akin to fire flaming throughout his gut.
"Well, leech, it's not like I'm not used to being used for my money. If anything you can teach her first hand what it's like to milk me like a money cow." Her mouth opens slightly, as if she's appalled by the notion.
It's then that his patience snaps like a thin twig beneath weight.
"Do you want to see my dick?" He asks briskly.
"Ew! What? No, of course not!" She yells at him as he gathers his clothes onto one arm.
"Then get the fuck out. I have to get ready for work." She stomps her foot loudly as if in protest but he brushes by her without a word back to his bedroom.
"Fucking money grubbing leech." He whispers to himself as he slams his bedroom door closed behind him.
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Thursday nights were appointed for one thing in Min Yoongi's eyes. Poker.
The library which he barely ever entered as well as his wife that couldn't read more than ten words without having a seizure was always occupied on Thursdays. 
Usually, the other five members of his social circle were always present but today he only had the pleasure of four of them.
"I love that Maya deals." Taehyung chuckles as he pulls the pile of poker chips in the middle of the table towards him.
Yoongi snorts gently, clamping the cigar between his teeth tighter as he stacks his chips with one hand.
"Maya, can I please have some more ice?" Namjoon asks softly as he holds up the bucket.
"Oh of course!" She says quickly as she takes the bucket from him.
Taehyung and Jimin watch her leave before slyly smirking to Yoongi as he leans back in his chair with a groan. The way they look at him makes him feel like prey in a baron forest.
"What?" He murmurs as he pulls the cigar from his mouth.
The tips of Taehyung's fingers slide over the green felt table as he lifts his glass of whisky.
"I heard something interesting about you." He replies to his older friend.
Namjoon clears his throat uncomfortably as he crosses his legs beneath the lip of the table. 
"Oh yeah? What's that? Something about my board of trustees?" Yoongi asks with a laugh as he picks up his own glass.
"Not so much." Jimin murmurs as he ashes his cigar.
"Heard you got a girl pregnant." Yoongi chokes on his whisky as he hears Taehyung's smooth voice. His eyes widen and he spins his chair around to dab at his mouth. 
His blood runs cold as the hotel CEO chuckles behind him. It scares the ever living shit out of him and he hates that.
"Where'd you hear that?" He asks gently, his voice audibly shaking as he turns back around.
"A little after I pulled my dick out of Yu Leena's tight ass." Jimin snickers at the admission and Yoongi closes his eyes in defeat.
"You won't say anything, right?" Namjoon asks quietly as he looks over at his best friend.
Hoseok, Yoongi's other best friend since childhood had only recently found out about you and his heir. While he was surprised, he was always loyal to the CEO and Yoongi knew he could count on his silence.
"I definitely won't. I like it when Leena comes over and if I say anything she won't let me take her to France in two weeks." The Kisung Connected CEO sighs in relief at the younger man's admission.
Maya returns with the ice and it gets quiet for a bit, just the gentle sounds of ice clinking against glass and poker chips smacking into each other resound throughout the large library.
"Leena loves her, y'know. She never shuts up about her. I feel like I know her with how much Leena tells me." Taehyung says as he rubs two poker chips together between his fingers.
This peaks his curiosity as he begins to relax into the chair once more.
"What does she say?" Yoongi asks softly and he watches as Maya smirks gently. Her motions are soft and smooth as she deals the cards. 
"About Y/N? That she's really sweet and kind. She works really hard and enjoys simple things like most poor people." Humming inquisitively, he lifts his whisky glass to his lips to ponder that thought.
"Simple things? Like?" Taehyung rolls his eyes at Yoongi's question.
"Yeah. Simple things. She likes to paint and to watch romantic movies. She enjoys cooking and other poor people shit." 
He begins to wonder how well you can paint. If you were any good at it.
"She's really sweet." Namjoon adds and Yoongi grimaces in his direction.
Noticing his grimace, the lawyer shrugs with a smirk.
"Is she the girl that was with Leena on her birthday?" Jimin asks and both Yoongi and Taehyung nod at the same time.
"Oh dude! She's so fucking hot! I can't believe you got to her before me!" Hearing those words roll off of his friend's tongue sets him in an uncomfortable state.
His body leans away from Jimin's as he clutches the cigar tighter between his index and middle finger.
"So she's moving in here?" Jimin asks happily.
"In two days. Yes. We have to go to the doctor and then she'll be in the mansion." 
Hoseok nudges Namjoon as they watch their best friend move uncomfortably. 
Yoongi loosens his tie around his neck, his face and chest begin to feel incredibly hot and flush. He can feel the sweat building on his hairline as he uncuffs his cufflinks. 
"Maya." He whispers as he holds them out over the table. 
Swallowing thickly, he stares down into his glass as the ice clinks against the crystal sides.
"You're lucky she's moving in. Now you'll have constant pussy." Jimin says as he scrolls through Leena's Instagram. 
The concept is completely foreign to Yoongi, "She's pregnant. Why would I fuck her?" 
Namjoon chuckles to himself gently as he looks at his cards, he tosses a few chips into the center of the table before looking pointedly at his best friend.
"Because man, pregnant pussy feels so much better than regular pussy. Plus, she's carrying your baby. That's fucking hot." Yoongi sneers at Jimin, the corner of his upper lip flicking upward at the notion.
"You're a fucking short little weirdo, Park Jimin." Yoongi's sentence comes out just a bit more acidic than he means it to but he doesn't apologize.
If anything the small flames of anger seem to burnish brighter as Jimin chuckles to himself. Park has always been so sure of himself, so absolutely ruthless in getting what he wants. But, you weren't his to have.
"If you aren't going to fuck her right, can I?" He asks as he tosses chips into the middle of the table. 
Yoongi's hand grips into a fist, the edges of the chips he holds make uncomfortable indents into his skin as he focuses on Maya's face to calm himself down.
"Whoa. Jimin." Hoseok mumbles as Jimin laughs.
"Calm down hyung. I'm just playing with you. I'll just ask her out on a date and we'll see where it goes." Yoongi chuckles to himself.
He can't begin to understand why it bothers him so much to hear those words. Maybe it's because you're being treated flippantly or maybe it's because you were his. Or, should be his anyway. You were having his child. Doesn't that make you off limits?
But he was better than this. He was better than letting small, simple things beneath his skin.
"She won't say yes. She's pregnant with my baby." He says as he chucks his chips into the center of the table roughly.
"We'll see. If she does say yes, just know I'll treat your baby mama with a lot of respect...as I rearrange her guts with the head of my cock." Jimin and Taehyung chortle loudly as they knock their shoulders into one another. 
Scoffing gently, he downs the rest of his whisky before wiping the back of his hand over his lips.
It takes all of his restraint to not get out of his chair and punch the shorter man in the face. It takes every single ounce of strength to just stay seated and look as if he's calm while on the inside he's burning bright with red hot rage.
"You watch your fucking mouth, Jimin. She's the mother of my child." He says as he points his finger over the lip of his glass at the younger man.
The laughs die down as they notice just how deadly serious he is. 
"Oh, now you care about her? Seemed like she was going to be just another leech ten minutes ago." Jimin chuckles as he speaks his words and Namjoon's eyes flutter shut in defeat.
"Yeah well, if she was to be a leech. She would be my leech. Not yours. You watch your fucking mouth when you talk about the mother of my baby in this fucking house, do you understand me?" He doesn't even understand where this rage is coming from. He can't begin to process it, but he doesn't miss the smile that creeps onto Maya's face as he defends your honor.
Jimin holds his hands up with a laugh as he clenches his cigar between his teeth. 
"Calm down Yoongi. I'm just fucking with you. I don't want to fuck your poor baby mama, alright?" 
Namjoon sits up fast as Yoongi goes to stand up, "Let's just all relax. Calm down." He tells his best friend as he puts his hand on his shoulder.
"Get out." He says aloud as he brushes Namjoon's hand off his shoulder.
Jimin looks up at Yoongi as Maya gently sets the cards down on the felt table. 
"Oh Yoongi. Come on, I was fucking around." He says half heartedly.
"I'm done for the night. Get the fuck out." He burns his cigar out before opening up the library doors.
Everyone stands and thanks Maya softly before heading out one by one. Yoongi catches Jimin by the shoulder as he leaves last.
His hand clasps roughly around his skin and Jimin cringes at the sharp pain, "You keep her fucking name out of your goddamn mouth. Do you understand me? Don't you dare ever disrespect her in this household again. Or, I'll release those pictures of you at your bachelor party to Dispatch. You keep your dick away from where it doesn't belong in this house."
The threat sends Jimin's eyes widening a fraction before he collects his composure, "I got it. Relax." He says before pulling his shoulder away and patting the older man's arm.
Taking a deep breath, he looks around the library before meeting Maya's gaze as she clears the cards off of the poker table.
"I'm sorry you had to hear that nasty stuff." He apologizes and her nose wrinkles sweetly as she smiles.
"Now that, that is how I raised you." He smirks gently at her praise before pocketing his hands and looking down at the floor.
"Can you order some paint brushes and canvas?" He asks softly.
"Oh of course! For you? You don't paint." Maya asks, her voice is riddled with confusion as she stacks the poker chips back in the oak box.
"No, I don't but Y/N does." He mumbles and Maya smiles widely before nodding. 
"Of course I'll order her some painting materials! That's a great idea, Yoongs!" Seeing her, the woman who has raised him, get so excited about it makes him feel almost drunk off of delight.
But, then he gets brought down to Earth once more as he hears his wife giggle from the kitchen. 
"Thanks, Maya." He mumbles as he sets off to his wing of the mansion. He eyes Hoseok chatting up his wife as they both lean against the bar and he snorts to himself in disbelief. At least someone would be getting laid tonight.
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The problem with having a wife that sees other people is just how loud sex can get when you're not involved. 
At one point Yoongi craved to be in Hoseok's position. He was dying to get in between Sera's legs albeit she was annoying and bratty since they were kids. He had a genuinely real crush on her that dissolved into distaste and pure hatred in a matter of moments.
Even across the whole mansion, he can hear her getting fucked like there's no tomorrow and he grimaces while turning to the window as he lays in bed. 
"Music up to ninety percent." He calls out in the room and the volume of the classical piano piece rises quickly to drown out the feral noises of sex from the other wing in the mansion.
Pulling out his phone, he begins to scroll through Instagram before finding Leena's page. There were so many posts with just you and her or you, her and Seokjin. Your smile was pretty. He takes into account that you haven't really smiled around him all that much but he can understand why. 
He can remember your giggle too, when you were in Namjoon's office. It was soft and gentle, like hummingbird wings. The noise instantly made him relax and he can remember how his eyes fluttered shut just upon hearing it.
You weren't a bad person. You weren't trying to trap him-- he could see it on your face when you had lunch. You were genuinely mortified. So fucking frightened. And, even though he doesn't know you, you don't deserve that.
You don't deserve to be terrified of him or anyone. 
He can see in most of these pictures, you're wearing borrowed things. The Chanel, the Balenciaga, the Gucci-- it was all Leenas and none of it was your own. 
How fucking depressing must that be? Did Leena make you wear her clothes or did you ask her to borrow some in order to not feel poor and unworthy around others? 
Sighing gently, he presses his face deeper into the pillow as he continues to scroll.
Maybe he shouldn't treat you like another Sera. But, he doesn't trust a single person. He's learned to lock his heart away in an iron cage after Sera so brutally stepped on him.
He's not sure if he could ever truly open up to someone else that isn't the woman who raised him.
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Next Chapter --->
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magneticghouls · 3 years
Text
anxiety buck/eddie - wc: 2081 - ao3 link!
!!! TW: descriptive panic attack/anxious feelings !!!
It’s a typical Monday night, one of Eddie’s nights off, Christopher is safely tucked in bed after a typical day at school. Ana just left after having dinner with them as she did a couple nights every week, but he had to admit that those nights were becoming an increasingly awkward event. So she headed home and now it was just Eddie and the TV.
After the panic attack (Eddie was still hesitant to say that out loud) every interaction with Ana was more tense. He knew she could feel it, there was a tightness to her smile, and a shortness when he spoke to her. He didn’t mean to, but his body reacted without fully processing the weight of why.
Still, Eddie was polite, he kissed her, went to that christening event with her family, went through the motions of being what a good boyfriend was supposed to be.
The eggshells were starting to crack, however. He was pushing her away or she was pulling away, either way you spin it, they were like the two sides of a magnet that wouldn’t stick no matter how hard you tried.
It was just a matter of who was going to be done first at this point.
Cue the almost daily spiral from Eddie thanks to his overactive brain these days, he would get stuck on those words from the doctor. Specifically: repression. That’s not what it was, despite the doctor’s insistence. He maintained that he was just moving on, brushing the dust off his shoulders. That was the best way to deal with anything life throws at you. That’s what he was taught growing up and it worked for a time. Except now all that shit was building up.
Ana was what Chris and him needed, he couldn’t really entertain the idea that it could be something-or someone-else because somewhere along the line his thought process convinced him that she was it and he had to stick with her.
Deep down he knew: there was no confronting one thing without all the walls coming down, the dam was going to break, the inevitable break up with Ana and his mental health were just the two most pressing issues. And that weight just seemed a little too daunting, like too much change all at once. So maybe pretending like none of it was an issue would always be the default. For now.
He didn’t panic, and he wasn’t repressing anything. If he repeated that and continued to convince himself his relationship with Ana was enough, then it would eventually be true. Manifesting and shit, Buck told him about that once.
Buck...who would tell him otherwise about the whole situation, he knew that. Since they ran into the doctor at the hospital, Buck wouldn’t let it go and got Eddie to tell him what happened. Eddie knew Buck liked researching random topics, but it was as if he became a freaking walking WebMD about panic attacks and anxiety after that.
The younger man was concerned, and Eddie appreciated the care. The soft look in Buck’s eyes when he offered to come stay at his house and help with Christopher like he did when Eddie’s shoulder was healing, almost as if he was hoping he’d get to take care of Eddie again. Eddie refused this time. Of course he did. Buck didn’t have to spend his time worrying about something that might not even happen again. And if it did, he’d be able to deal with it this time.
It was as if the universe wanted to prove him wrong at that moment. A big “You think you’ve got a handle on this, Diaz? Let’s see.”
A loud noise on his TV rattled Eddie out of his thoughts. A jarring bang from whatever he was watching, some show on the history channel? He couldn’t be sure. His body reacts instinctively, muscles tightening, and suddenly the calm low lighting in his living room turned harsh and unforgiving. The dishwasher running in the kitchen is too loud and the walls feel like they’re closing in.
There’s a momentary thought and he knows what’s happening, of course he does, but it’s not as extreme as it had been in the department store. He can manage. He’s at home and he’s safe, what was there to worry about?
Eddie feels a slight tremor to his hands as he reaches for his phone.
Ana had only left twenty minutes ago, he’s sure that she wouldn’t have a problem coming back.
The number dialed was as involuntary as what his body was going through.
There were flashing scenes in his head, all at once thrown back four months. The lights were all too bright and he could see that LA street moments before the sniper pulled the trigger. It was overwhelming. His own blood was splattered across Buck’s face again as unconsciousness threatened to claim him through the searing pain in his shoulder.
The crystal quality in which his brain could recall those moments terrified him.
He knew Buck was fine now. They had talked earlier that day. Things were good. But he had to be sure. Had to check.
It only rang twice.
“Buck?” Eddie gasped, closing his eyes to shake the bloodied image of his best friend out of his head, “Buck are you okay?”
“Hello? Hey, is this Eddie? Hold on, Buck’s just in the shower,” Taylor’s voice is unmistakable.
Eddie freezes and in the next split second he hangs up, letting his phone drop to the floor.
The edges of his vision are in and out of focus and his chest feels so tight he only just manages to breathe. “Oh, come on,” he tells himself, pulling himself up with the support of the arm of the couch and suddenly the whole floor feels like it’s moving.
Somehow in his daze, he makes it to his bedroom, unaware of his phone ringing on repeat back in the living room.
The darkness of his room is usually comforting. It’s a safe place. Right then it feels the exact opposite. It’s cold and empty and unwelcoming, and everything he doesn’t want, but he also has no clue what he does want.
“It’ll pass. It’s gonna be fine,” he breathes as he sinks to the floor with his back against the bed frame, whispering affirmations of nothingness to himself, “I don’t panic.”
Burying his face in his hands, Eddie realizes for the first time his eyes are wet, but the fact he had been crying didn’t even register until now.
Eddie feels himself floating, a black hole entrapping him and growing, devouring any sense of calm. And he tries. He reminds himself of some grounding thoughts. Chris is sleeping, he’s safe. His friends, his family, are all safe. Buck is okay. He is okay. Those thoughts quickly become distant and sucked into the void of panic, and his body sways involuntarily.
“God damn it,” he curses and starts to feel sick to his stomach.
He’s not sure how much time goes by in that state. Five minutes? Thirty? An hour? The part of his brain screaming at him begins to quiet eventually in that time, but only to a low nagging. Not enough to leave him alone.
It’s the quiet opening click of the front door that eventually registers in his brain, reminding him that he’s at home and not actually in a life or death situation, but he’s still unable to move.
The footsteps are familiar even with their rushed pace, he knows who it is before they walk through his bedroom door.
“Eddie!” Buck almost yells when he steps into the bedroom, but being mindful of the fact that Chris is probably sleeping, he manages to catch himself. He still sounds distraught as he kneels beside Eddie on the floor, “Hey, Eds, talk to me, are you okay? Do you need me to call 911?”
“No,” Eddie manages, but that’s all that comes out. All he can make himself say. There’s not much light to go off of but he can see the gleam of tears in Buck’s eyes.
"Hey, you're alright, I'm here," Buck hesitates, hands hovering awkwardly, “Can I sit with you?”
Eddie nods and Buck sits beside him with their shoulders touching. Eddie leans into it instantly.
“Taylor said you called and sounded off...and then when I couldn’t get a hold of you I didn’t know if something happened with Christopher or you-” Buck whispers with a raw crack in his voice as Eddie cries silently into his shoulder, “I was so worried about you, man.”
If Eddie could make himself talk, he would have apologized. That was exactly what he wanted to avoid.
An arm wraps around Eddie’s shoulders and the weight of Buck’s chin rests gently on his head, and it feels like he can breathe again for a moment, focusing to make his breaths even and match Buck’s.
Buck doesn’t say anything more, and Eddie is thankful for the lack of conversation right now. He was fairly sure Buck knew what happened and there weren’t words to express how he felt in the moment, anyways.
What did it say that he called Buck instead of Ana.
The woman he was supposed to be in a relationship with wasn’t the one he called when things went south, it was Buck. Always Buck. When people mistook Buck as Chris’ other parent, Eddie never freaked out. Hell, he made the other man his son’s legal guardian, something he’d never consider with Ana. It all very obviously pointed in one direction, but Eddie didn’t want to go there yet.
Why?
So many hang ups he had to get past and he had no idea where to start. Dealing with things was going to prove to be a lot harder than just leaving things in the past.
“You probably need some sleep,” Buck says eventually, voice muffled by Eddie’s hair, “Here.”
Eddie takes Buck’s hand that he offers, and the room doesn’t feel like it’s moving anymore as he stands up, but he still leans into the other for support.
Buck only lets go to pull back the covers for Eddie to crawl into and runs to the kitchen to get a glass of water for him. Judging by the sounds of his footsteps, he stops and checks in on Christopher as well. It feels childish because these are simple things Eddie can do on his own, but he’s so grateful that he doesn’t have to.
Eddie’s already sunk into the comfort of his pillow but he stares at Buck when he returns and puts the glass on the bedside table.
“Hey...can you stay?” Eddie’s voice was small, embarrassed at having asked that but he hated the thought of Buck leaving more.
Buck’s shoulders visibly relaxed and he smiled, “Of course I can.”
Eddie felt relieved, and turned over to face the middle of the bed as he made space for Buck on the other side, pushing off a sweater and an extra blanket. Buck had stopped spending the night on the couch when he stayed over forever ago, and at this point, Buck had spent more nights opposite Eddie than Ana. Another interesting point for him to mull over later.
“Thank you, Buck,” Eddie speaks into the dark, voice hoarse, “For everything.”
“I’m always here for you, Eds, you know that,” Buck assures.
Without thinking, Eddie moved closer under the duvet cover. The last thing he wanted was to feel alone right now, and the person he trusted most in the world was right beside him, he wanted that contact.
Buck put his hand out in between them and Eddie took it without hesitation.
Maybe this was waiting on the other side of everything. A life with someone he trusted so wholeheartedly, a sense of comfort and peace to just exist with said person who’d been right under his nose for years now. They were moving backwards in a sense, they’d already built a life together, Eddie would even go so far to say they were raising his son together. A partnership in the making. Just a few bridges to burn and new ones to cross stood in the way.
Eddie’s inner musings were becoming fuzzy with sleep, his eyes trained on Buck who was watching him silently with a gentle smile, and he felt safe.
Tomorrow was another day to consider the future, but for now, the darkness was less daunting.
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