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headcans-oneshots-and-stuff · 4 years

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Overworked

Fandom: DC Pairing: Batsis!reader x Batfamily Word count: 3k Summay: Your on your way to be the next C.E.O. of Wayne Enterprises, but the road is filled with challenges and a lack of self-care that your family can’t help but worry about (based on this) Warning: Slight angst and unconciousness, near death experience Requested by a pretty great Anon: Can you do a one shot of future ceo batsis overworking herself with long days and vigilante nights and she’s basically not sleeping or taking care of herself and batfams gotta step in and make her listen to reason.

The cup of coffee had already grown cold, the liquid inside it stale and surely undrinkable, when you reached for it. Hardly the first few drops of the liquid had ran down your throat when you realized the horrible transition it had gone through from the nectar of productivity to the lovechild of tar and sulfur, your face distorting into an expression of utmost disgust as you quickly put it back down and besides the other six paper-cups that were all half-filled at most. You sighed when you realized that it must have already been an hour since you had made - and after completely forgot about - the coffee. It really was a cursed circle that you had been going through for the last eight hours. You made a cup, brought it to your office, drank a bit, forgot about it and realized how horrible it now tasted half an hour or so later and then you took at least another twenty minutes before deciding to head for your next cup. Was it already time for the next one? No, it could wait a bit longer. You turned your attention back to the screen in front of you - or rather the three screens - and let your eyes fly over all the data and graphs and numbers that you had to have in a presentable form by next morning for the monthly debriefing. This time would be your first time without Bruce on the sidelines and overlooking your work, a fact that made you feel proud at your accomplishment while simultaneously scaring you to the core. You knew that logically it wouldn’t be different than the last two - which you had also done basically solo with Bruce only sitting beside you silently observing - but there was still that internal voice that told you that without your father by your side the board would rip you apart until nothing was left over. You didn’t know what exactly caused it but suddenly you felt dizzy and the letters and numbers in front of you started swimming around, turning into absolute gibberish, the neon-lights of the screen hurting your eyes. No, not the screens themselves, it was the contrast between the brightly lit screens and the darkness that spread out behind them. It was only then that you let your gaze move behind the confines of your office and through the glass doors to the rest of the office space that was completely engulfed in darkness. Now you realized that it wasn’t only that, it was more, there was no soul wandering the floor and no sound beside the ever-so-steady growling of the computer fan and the clicking of your keyboard. “Fuck,” you couldn’t help but mutter when you looked at the clock beside you which already read half past nine. Which meant that you only had half an hour at most before your patrol started. Ignoring the pounding that built up in your head you tried to remember how it was possible for the time to surprise you like that. You had come to work at eight that morning and had spent two hours calling around, checking on contracts and meeting with potential clients, then you had your daily briefing with the department heads - which had extended into almost an hour because Brad from PR really couldn’t get his shit together - then you had to talk to HR about finding a possible replacement for Brad from PR and after you had started working on the numbers. And now you were standing in the elevator on your way to the car park. Did you have Lunch today? No, you had to skip Lunch break for Brad. What about Breakfast? No, wait, you forgot about that too. You rubbed your eyes and felt the need to curse rise again when you realized that you’d have to get right back to the numbers as soon as you had finished patrol which meant that you wouldn’t be able to sleep yet again. What was that? The fourth night in a row? Your only solace was the possibility that you’d maybe finish quickly and get a good one to two hours before you had to be back in the office, but deep inside you knew that it was unlikely. It hadn’t worked the last four nights either. But you’d pull through. There was a light at the end of the tunnel. After tomorrow’s meeting you’d go home at a normal time and indulge yourself in that full meal your stomach had been begging you for, sleep for a full eight hours and maybe even watch a movie if you felt especially crazy. Just for one night you’d really let yourself go. But for that to be possible you had to bite your teeth together and stay on your path.

The elevator arrived at the car park and you quickly rushed to your car and made your way to your apartment which - for maximum efficiency - was only a five minute drive away from the Wayne Ent. Tower, where you quickly rushed into the hidden side room to change into your gear. As you checked the time you realized that you still had a good five minutes before you had to check in with your father and you had to very quickly decide between your two options: quickly eat something or make and drink another coffee. You decided for the second one, but as you made your way to the kitchen counter where your coffee machine stood you caught a glimpse of the unopened stack of mail on the kitchen island and with a sigh decided to just get that over with, effectively ignoring both your previous options. The letters were rather quickly sorted through and before you knew you were standing on a nearby ceiling and activated your comm. “Y/H/N reporting from area 7.4 in central Gotham.” “Good evening Y/H/N, it’s Oracle, I’ll be your voice in the background tonight,” Barbara’s voice echoed through your ears and after exchanging the usual greetings she quickly gave you the location of a robbery in progress. With quick, experienced movements you jumped over the roofs until you stood on the ceiling of a jewelry which was - luckily for you - made out of glass. There was only a single man in the darkness of the store below you, using a flashlight to clean out the display cases, and he wasn’t especially silent so you used the noise to your advantage as you opened one of the few ceiling windows that were openable and let yourself glide down with a hook. “I think you have to pay for that,” you interrupted the robber who quickly turned around, his face hidden by a black, knitted hat with badly cut out holes for the eyes. He was definitely no professional. The man - obviously panicked - got out a gun with shaky hands and pointed it at you, but before he could even think of shooting you had thrown a batarang and the piece of weaponry landed on the floor too far from him that he could reach it before you. Seemingly not seeing another option the man started charging at you and you just sighed and said: “I wouldn’t do that if I was you,” but by the end of the sentence his fist tried to make contact with your masked face, but you caught his hand expertly and used the momentum to twist it behind his back, grabbing the other one too and with quick movements you had used a pair of handcuffs that you had in your bat-belt™ to chain him to one of the displays before letting him go. “If you’ll excuse me for a second,” you mumbled before walking a few feet away where you told Barbara to contact the police and tell him they didn’t need to hurry. You had just finished the conversation and muted your mic again when the same dizziness as earlier in the office hit you but this time tenfold. It was like the ground was swaying below you and you had to take ahole of a countertop so that you didn’t fall. “Hey, are you okay, you look kinda sick,” the robber asked in an actual concerned voice, but you didn’t answer, instead you quickly used the hook you had attached earlier to let yourself swing out of the window again. “Y/H/N?” Barbara contacted you and you tried your best to swallow down the weakness in your muscles that suddenly seemed to grow over you. “Yeah?” “Bats asks you to meet him on the roof of the Jefferson building down in third.” “Tell him I’ll be there in a minute.”

You gave yourself another few seconds to collect yourself before you did as you were told and made your way over to the roof of the builduing Babs’ had told you to go to, the dark silhouette of your father’s persona already expecting you there. Like you had done so often before, you started to run towards the edge of the building next to it - the one you were currently on - and made yourself ready to jump, only for your muscles to suddenly give up on you and the only thing you felt next was the rushing of air as you were falling and then the sudden stop and pain in your wrist as something caught you. Bruce quickly pulled you up and even with the cowl you could see the concern. “You okay?” he asked, his voice worried which definitely sounded uncanny in connection with what he was wearing. “Uhm yeah, my legs just kind of gave up on me there,” you tried to wave it off with a chuckle, not wanting him to see that you were frightened to your core. “Y/H/N?” he asked again in that voice he had always used when you tried to sneak out at night and lied when he had caught you. He hadn’t used that voice in so long. “I’m serious Batman, everything is okay, it’s no big deal,” you huffed - now defensive - and stood up with your arms crossed in front of your chest. “It is when you suddenly fall from a roof. What would have been if I hadn’t been there to catch you?” he asked, now slight anger edging through the worry, but you couldn’t blame him. “I’m sorry, okay, it won’t happen again,” you sighed and hoped he would just let it go, especially considering that the dizziness started to return. Along with it came the heaviness of your eyelids that you had gotten used to that somehow now seemed to actively pull you down. You raised your hand to rub your eyes - hoping it would put some more live back into you - but even that slight movement seemed to be too much as the world started swaying again and you felt gravity getting the best of you. Something black started moving in front of you and you weren’t quite sure if you were falling unconscious or if it was Bruce who came towards you to catch your falling form, but it turned out to be latter when you found yourself being lowered to the ground and propped against the end of one of the vantilator shafts of the building with Bruce kneeling beside you. “You’re definitely not okay,” he muttered as he held your face in his hands to get you to look at him. “I’m just a little bit tired is all,” you tried to argue, but your voice was weak and almost started lulling. “When was the last time you slept? Or ate?” You shut your eyes in concentration as you tried to remember. “Wait I know the answer to that one,” you muttered but almost fell asleep, only being kept away when your head started falling downwards, “What did you ask again?” “When was the last time you slept an entire night?” he tried again, this time more specific. “What day is it today?” “Friday.” “Then I think it was Monday,” you whispered since suddenly the loud noise of your voice seemed to pierce your skull apart. “You were on Patrol from nine to two a.m. on Monday,” Bruce disagreed and you almost chuckled. “Yes, and after I went to bed and got a full five hours. That’s pretty good isn’t it,” you couldn’t help but smile almost proudly, your mind starting to fog up with bubblegum coloured smoke that made it impossible to think straight. “And when did you last eat?” Bruce sighed, worry and recognition crossed his face. He himself must have known too well what you were going through. You averted your eyes and looked down at your lap where you played with your hands like an embarrassed child. “Also Monday,” you mumbled and Bruce immediately shook his head. “That’s not okay, you have to take care of yourself Y/H/N, you’re no good for anyone when you don’t.” You weren’t sure if it was only tired paranoia that made you see only disappointment on your fathers face - that ignored all the worry - but suddenly the prospect of having disappointed him, the one thing that you were trying to avoid ever since you could remember, made tears well up in your eyes and your lip quiver, “‘M sorry,” you could just press out before the tears started rolling. Bruce immediately regretted his tone of voice, but he knew nothing he would say now would be remembered by you so he just pulled you up from the roof and started carrying your already passing out form towards the batmobil. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow…”

The feeling of waking up rested was foreign to you, especially since it wasn’t one of your four separate alarms that woke you, and caused you to immediately sit up, only to be pulled back into the mattress. Your eyes flew open and explored your surroundings. The chandelier above you, with rainbow-coloured glass-pendants and the dark blue dealing with the painted stars immediately calmed you again. This room was your childhood bedroom which meant that you were in the manor, which in turn meant that you were safe. For a moment the calm was pretty nice, but then you remembered your case of immovability and looked down at where your wrists came out from under the cover. They were bound by silky bands and a move of your feet told you that the same was the case for them. While you were contemplating ways to get out of the unbelievably good, but still comfortable restraints, the door started to open and you turned as well as you could towards where you smallest (figuratively and literally) brother entered. “Your awake?” he asked in his usual stern voice, but you had known him for long enough to recognize the hidden worry. “Yeah, mind telling me why I’m strapped to my bed?” “Forced self-care,” he stated matter-of-factly and you couldn't help but narrow your eyes. “What?” “You fainted on Patrol, father says you haven’t eaten or slept since last Monday so we took measures to make sure you wouldn’t kill yourself with how careless you are.” You wanted to reply with something snarky, but you were well aware that what he said was probably right. “I’m sorry okay, I just had a lot on my plate, but you’re right and I feel a lot better now that I had some sleep, so you can let me go again,” you tried to smooth your way out of there, but you had the slight suspicion that it was hopeless. “I respect your try but you will not be let go until father is certain that you’re better.”

“But I am better!” you whined and tried yet again to wiggle yourself out of the restraints. Damian just raised his eyebrows unimpressed. He walked over to a chair that was standing beside your bed and as you followed him with your eyes you noticed the shutted curtains and the small gap of light between them. “What time is it anyways?” you sighed and felt surprise when you had to hold back a yawn. “It’s about 8 a.m.” Your eyes widened. That meant you had enough time to get to the office! “Please Dami, you gotta let me go, I have to get to the board meeting,” you begged, starting to wiggle more and more, but to no avail. “But Ukthi, you-” “No you don’t understand! This is my first time alone, I can’t let dad down, I have to be able to pull through with this if I ever want to make it as the next C.E.O. Dad wasn’t allowed a break either.” “Ukthi-” “Damian please, please, I promise I’ll come back right after and take care of myself, but I have to do this if I-” “Ukthi! The board meeting was yesterday. You slept for over 24 hours!” Damian shouted to get you to stop interrupting him and when you realized the weight of his words you sunk back down into the pillow. “What? But I was supposed to…” “Father just postponed it, he didn’t leave room to argue, he also gave you the week off from patrol and work.” If your hands weren’t bound you’d probably sunken your face into them in shame. You tried to hold tears back as you looked away from Damian. “Y/N?” he asked and came closer. “I’m sorry, It’s just- how am I supposed to handle being the C.E.O. of Wayne Enterprise if I can’t even handle little things like board meetings? How am I supposed to take after dad?” “Y/N, you keep on saying how father managed to lead the business on his own, and how you should be able too, but you’re not alone. You’re not supposed to be either. You have all of us by your side for a reason and we won’t leave you alone with this. We’re here for you and you shouldn’t be ashamed to ask for help. We’re family, we love you and we want to support you with all we can. “For now, how about you rest a little bit more and then I’ll let you out of bed to get a proper meal, Alfred made your favorite. After that I’m afraid Father will want to have a word with you.” “Oh shucks….”

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 3 years

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destiel, 2.4k, mild hurt/comfort, happy ending. for @wormstacheangel who wanted a fic with anemic!Cas <3

"Cas?"

Dean hears a flump from the direction of the bedroom right as he finishes shaving his left cheek. It takes him about five seconds from there to dashing out of the bathroom, sink hastily turned off and half of his neck still covered in white, wearing an expression of worry that doesn't quite go with the foam beard.

Cas seems to hold the same opinion because his face splits in a wide grin the moment Dean enters the room.

A grin almost distracting enough for Dean to not notice that Cas is back on the bed, and suddenly wearing a blanket.

Almost.

"Goddammit, Cas." He sighs, huffing as panic slips away to make room for exasperation. He walks up to the bed, sets about righting the blanket around Cas.

Cas lets him.

"I should've known -"

"- Dean, I forgot -"

"- you were going to ditch your meds the first night after I stop bugging you 'bout them." Dean mutters, ignoring Cas completely as he makes weak attempts at protesting when Dean tucks one corner of his blanket all the way round at the other side, effectively turning him into what he mentally likes to call a Cas-burrito.

He doesn't like to call it anything at the moment though, cause right now, it's just proof of how Cas doesn’t listen.

Friggin' ex-angel of the lord, billions of years old, with libraries worth of stories and history in his head — but taking his meds when they're supposed to be taken, he forgets.

"It wasn't on purpose." Cas insists in a small voice, and Dean shoots an annoyed look at him before stepping back, finally finished with the blanket routine.

If you could call it that.

Well, Dean does call it that.

Because it happened often enough times after Cas's return from the Empty, human as the day Dean was born, to prompt both a title, and a reason to investigate why in the first place.

And not a lot of road to cover from typing in Cas's symptoms in a search engine — headaches, spells of dizziness, fatigue and feeling cold in general (things Cas had dictated to Sam who was typing, while Dean seethed from the next chair at not having been priorly informed of most of those things that warrant being informed about) — to ending up at the conclusion of a few billion (but actually just the first four) results, just minutes after.

Cas had anemia.

(The doctor Dean took him to the very next day, and Sam's completed research on the Novaks' medical history by the time they got back, confirmed it.)

Now, as far as the Winchesters were concerned, that was practically a relief — especially since their next place to look would've been old, tired books of curses, and the meekest of those would've been several times more worrying than the awfullest case of anemia one could possibly get - and Cas's, thankfully, wasn't even that bad.

However, curses are reversible. Or at least, equally as destroyable as their curse-rs are — who, usually, tend to be pretty destroyable when it comes to Sam and Dean.

Mineral deficiencies, on the other hand, are neither.

So supplements it is, as the doctor said and then prescribed — or so it should have been anyways, except for how the love of Dean's life was a giant baby when it came to taking pills.

"Sure it wasn't." Dean rolls his eyes, continuing in his exaggerated 'Cas' voice. "You just forgot."

Cas squint-frowns at Dean with all the ferociousness of a tired, cold and anemic four-weeks-old human, and Dean perches next to him on the edge of their bed with a sigh, the exasperation wearing off too.

(If he hadn't already wrapped them up, this would've been about the time Dean would've taken Cas's hands in his own.)

"Cas," He says, softer now.

Truth be told, Dean can't imagine what it must be like to go from being a - a being, that can heal itself and everything else, to a human who gets shivery and lightheaded cause of things inside of him he can't even control.

It's got to be terrifying, and obviously awful, and Dean's proud of Cas for the way he's been handling all of it — but dammit he's supposed to do the things that make it easier.

Just like he's supposed to let Dean take care of him.

"Dean," Cas replies, looking sideways at him with most of the stubbornness melted from his expression as well. "I'm a little cold but it's okay. I'm fine." He says, like he can still tell exactly what Dean needs to hear.

What he needs Cas to be.

There's a pause and Dean looks down at his hands. He can't help his next question, it's been on his mind for some time.

"What about the first time you were human?"

Cas noticeably withdraws into himself on hearing him, and Dean feels immediately a pang of guilt. It may have gotten easier to read him since he became human, but an accidental display of emotion was still a novelty. (Being difficult to read was apparently more of a Cas trait than an angel feature.)

"What about it?"

"Shouldn't you, uh," Dean pauses. "Shouldn't you also have been anemic then?"

Cas turns away from him, slow enough that Dean knows he's not taken offense, deliberate enough that he's thinking.

He finally answers, facing the wall ten feet away instead of Dean.

"I guess I was."

"But," Dean frowns. "I thought you had no idea you had anemia until last week."

"Dean, I didn't even know there was anything wrong with me until last week." Cas returns, his tone steady. "And back when I was human for the first time, I didn't either, because I'd never known what healthy felt like before, so I had no idea if I was or wasn't it. Of course I knew in an objective sense, say, the ideal temperature of the human body, but the ordinary amount of chilly one should feel on the streets in winter, or how hard or easy falling asleep is supposed to be, I couldn't have told you."

"Oh."

"And I still wouldn't have been able to," Cas turns back to him. "Had you not been the one to point it out."

Dean scoffs.

All he'd done was ask why Cas had been shivering in the middle of the day. That was it. Honestly, how could he not have seen it sooner?

"So you just," Dean lets out, afraid of the answer. "You just thought the cold spells and the, uh," he falters. "The being tired all the time — you thought that was part of being human?"

Cas smiles wryly. "It is for a lot of people."

"But —"

"And it was, Dean, anemia or not, for a lot of the people I lived with back then."

Dean's stomach bottoms out. He knows Cas is right. Six years ago, he'd been living on the streets, living in a bus. Dean remembers him — homeless, cold, sleeping on the floor of a Gas 'N Sip in his only set of clothes, Cas. And he knows he's responsible for it — knows he deserves to be hated for it, and it messes with him everyday that Cas doesn't — but did Cas really not even know what Dean had done to him? What Dean had — and Jesus, he detests himself — made him go through?

"You really thought all of us were going through that," Dean blinks. "And none of us was saying a thing?"

Cas doesn't look away this time and Dean goes on.

"I mean, I know you put humanity on a pedestal it doesn't deserve, and you think we're all capable of things you're capable of, but Cas, I can't believe you associated being human with being cold and tired, and —" Dean scrubs his face with a hand. "Goddammit, Cas! How could I have let you go out there on your own when you — h-how did I not see it, and — and you should never have had to deal with it all alone, I should've —"

"Dean."

It's not until Cas interrupts him that he realizes he's been rambling. Ranting, really, because it's not fair that Cas only got to see the worst of humanity, and it's not fair that Cas was so used to feeling awful that he just figured everyone felt that way all the time. That Cas was all alone at a time Dean should've been there for him, should've been at his side, been there to make sure he was warm, and make sure he ate spinach and seafood and whatever the hell else is rich in iron — hell, Dean should've looked it up sooner — and Dean should've been able to tell that Cas was sick, even if Cas couldn't, because that's his job.

He hasn't felt this way in a while — this particularly familiar fear of failing Cas, and losing Cas, entwined horribly, returning to him; seeping back in through his skin, and settling on his bones like the vast sediments of guilt and loss he's been carrying for most of his life.

Cas is supposed to be okay, and Dean's supposed to make sure he is.

But so far as upto here, turns out Dean's just been failing in more ways than he'd even known.

"Dean," Cas repeats, pulling him out of his reverie with determination in his voice, and a hand on Dean's left arm, his blanket now hanging off of one shoulder.

Dean immediately reaches to make it right but Cas holds him right where he is. Physically and not-drowning-in-his-own-head wise, and he's the only one who can do that.

"You're not listening to me."

Shit, Cas had been speaking this entire time, hadn't he? "Sorry, I was -" Dean looks Cas in the face to apologize, and lets out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, cause thank god, Cas isn't that pale. "Sorry."

"It's okay." Cas smiles, and it's not lopsided anymore, it's just Cas.

(Dean wonders if he should try to mirror it.)

"I was just saying that now I know that that's not the only part of being human."

"What do you mean?"

"The pain and the suffering, Dean. That's not all." Cas says. "There's also love, and kindness, and worry of the non-lifethreatening kind that dissipates with a smile, and warmth."

Dean stares at him.

"And sure," Cas shrugs. "I knew those things before too — I've read books, I've watched you and Sam — but now I've felt them as humans do, for the very first time, so it's a different kind of knowing."

Cas takes Dean's hand in his, and Dean's the one who squeezes.

"I believe the human expression is 'knowing it in my bones'."

Dean lets out a strained laugh in spite of himself. "Dunno, man. I don't think that's exactly what that means."

"But I do know it in my bones." Cas says simply, and Dean's heart does that thing where it feels too big for his chest. How Cas could go through so much, and still be so full of kindness and good, is one of the mysteries of life Dean's never going to solve — but it doesn't stop him from falling a little bit harder every time it happens.

"You should've gotten to know it the last time too, Cas." Dean tells him, sighing again. "I'm just — I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"Well, you are now." Cas tilts his head. "And I prefer the things I'm learning this time over the last time anyway, and I believe it's you who's always taught me that the present is what matters the most. I'm just glad you're here this time."

"And I'm not going anywhere." Dean squeezes their hands tighter, and Cas's smile grows. God, he deserves the world and he keeps settling for Dean, doesn't he — and Dean hates it, and loves it, and couldn't live without it. He puts his other hand on Cas's face, gloving his cheek. Cas leans closer.

"I love you."

Dean's throat constricts. "You're too good to me."

"I think that's the point."

Dean can't help but smile, and he really can't help the tears.

"I'm okay." Cas says, once more. "Are you?"

There's only one answer, and nothing to fight this time.

Dean closes the gap.

"I love you too."

It's not their first kiss, nor is it the first time they've ever said it — but it feels more significant than anything's felt before. It's more them, too — not sickly-sweet or angry and fighting, just them, coming around to the end of a hard talk, falling into each other's arms with an ease they reserve for each other only, and sinking into each other, slow and perfectly synced, like they're made for it.

When they pull back, a moment later, Dean leans his forehead against Cas's and licks his lips. Breathes.

"There's so much more to being human," he hears himself saying. "Than you'd ever find out just living here in the bunker with us."

"Dean," it's Cas's turn to sigh. "I've already found everything I need."

Dean's cheeks heat up. "I thought it was never too late to learn."

"It isn't." Cas leans back, hands falling back to his sides from where they were wrapped around Dean's neck. "But sometimes, practising old things is more important."

Dean immediately dissolves into laughter. "Yeah, no, great going. Call me old before you go to town practising on me."

Cas ignores him save a twinkle in his eyes. "And some things, I'd like us to learn together."

Dean grins.

"And some things," Cas concludes, with a wide smile. "Aren't taught anywhere else in the world."

"Yeah?"

Cas shrugs.

"Why so?"

"Well, rumor has it the teacher's afraid of flying."

Dean freezes for a moment, silent, and then snorts — because yeah, that's funny, Ha Ha, but okay, if Cas is fit enough to make jokes, then he's fit enough to take his meds now, and Dean tells him that gleefully, resulting in Cas's grin immediately turning upside down as he tries to scoot away from Dean, except Dean's kinda expecting it so he's prepared to launch himself on the bed if he has to — and he does have to, cause Dean might love him for his heart, and his courage, and his kindness, but remember how Cas is just a baby in a trenchcoat?

Yeah.

(And that is just a regular morning in the Winchester household.)

#destiel #destiel fic #angst with a happy ending #destiel kiss #deancas fluff #cas angst #well. minor angst.#long post #i really hope you like it Rubi <33 #it got considerably longer (and sadder in the middle) than i'd expected it to be?? but oh well :'))#nyrawyra #userpris #userdee #spncreatorsdaily #dean pov #kashmircastiel #friendshapedcastiel #rambleoncas #oh writing my writing

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sparkles-and-trash · 3 years

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The Gaang are Roommates AU ~

note: this is a rewrite and repost of my old roommates au, there was some stuff I wanted to change, and I wanted to make the parts a little longer, so yeah, ta-dah!

- think modern setting in the canon universe, bending is still a thing

- the Gaang are all in going to Ba Sing Se University

- I’m gonna change the ages a bit to make it easier for myself, sorry

- Zuko, Sokka, Suki and Mai are 20, Katara, Ty Lee and Azula are 19, Aang, Toph and Yue are 18

- so, Zuko, Sokka, Katara, Aang and Toph end up living together in a big loft type apartment

- Sokka and Aang are old best friends, they met Toph in Middle School, and Katara is a natural part of the group

- until now Sokka and Katara have both been living in the dorms, and they both hate it intensely

- but now that Aang and Toph are also in uni, they all decide to move in together!

- …but the only problem is that the only place they find that they like is just out of their price rage (Toph’s parents aren’t supportive of her major so they’re not helping out much)

- enter: ~ Zuko ~

- so, Zuko has been living with his uncle Iroh since his Father, who’s a high up in some big and important company the Fire Nation, disowned him for speaking up against the company’s shifty treatment of workers and ruining a lot of sacred land etc

- they’re still firebenders and the scar still happened, not in an Agni Kai, but it happened

- but after Zuko started uni, Iroh really tried to push him to meet some people his own age and make some friends

- the only people Zuko talks to on the regular besides Iroh is Azula, Ty Lee and Mai, and Mai is the only one who is like, his friend yanno?

- the last year the deal was that if Zuko didn’t branch out, Iroh would have him live one year with other students

- it’s his idea of tough love

- Zuko tried to do some random kid’s homework to have them pretend to be his new friend in front of Iroh so he wouldn’t have to, but Iroh can tell he’s lying so easily

- so, Zuko ends up hearing about the Gaang through Mai, who heard from Ty Lee, who plays field hockey, Suki, who’s best friends with Sokka

- so, he goes to meet them, and it’s so awkward mY GOD

- Katara is a B I G environmental activist and HATES Ozai and his company, with good reason

- she eases up a tad when Zuko admits to being turned away from as a teen, but she is still suspicious

- Aang loves him right away, ofc, and that makes Katara even more suspicious because she’s pretty protective of Aang

- she claims it’s because he’s so kind and believes everyone but she totally liikeees hiiiim

- Toph is just like, sure, as long as he pays his rent idgaf

- Sokka is weirdly quiet, because he’s had a huge crush on Zuko forever, and the only one who knows is Aang (and Toph but she ain’t no snitch)

- so, ya boy makes the cut, and before they know it, it’s move-in day!

- but, the idiots didn’t think through the facts that it’s only three bedrooms oops

- and Toph is NOT afraid to pull the “I’m blind and I need my space” card

- and nobody’s up to fight her on it, so

- let’s just say there is A LOT of back and forth, but with Katara refusing to room with her brother again, and Zuko being rightfully scared of Katara, it ends up with Zuko and Sokka sharing a bedroom, and Katara and Aang

- they have separate beds ofc

- but still, tension, man, so much tension

- it takes a while, but the dynamics starts working out really well

- Zuko is good at grocery shopping and likes to clean, and Aang is always happy to help him out

- Sokka loves cooking, so he does that a lot

- Katara is always on top of the others with schoolwork and making sure everyone is okay, and she usually does it in genius, sneaky ways so people doesn’t even notice that she does it

- Toph is clearing the air off bullshit

- like, she will call a bitch out

- but because she cares about said bitch

- so, Aang knows that Sokka has a crush on Zuko because Sokka told him in a weak moment, and Toph knows because she just knows

- Aang is a good friend tho, and he tries to like, ease them together

- but he is so awkward about it, the poor thing, and Zuko doesn’t understand AT ALL

- Toph is just sitting back and sighing a lot

- Katara doesn’t understand either but she just stays out of it (smart girl)

- but okay, we know how oblivious Zuko can be right?

- Sokka can give him googly eyes and blush and stutter around him so much and he still has no clue at all

- Zuko starts thinking Sokka just doesn’t like him at all

- but then one night Zuko has this really intense nightmare

- okay and quick addition, his scar is… handshaped? Like, you can clearly tell what happened to him

- but nobody talks about it, yet

- but then he’s having a terrible nightmare and is talking and begging and pleading in his sleep

- so much that Sokka wakes up

- and he catches on pretty fast, but had no idea what to do

- so he just shuffles over to Zuko’s side of the room and starts tapping his shoulder rapidly

- but nothing happens

- so he just… gently and awkwardly pats his head until Zuko wakes up

- and Zuko is like… wat u doin there bro

- and Sokka is like… just patting ur head to wake you from a nightmare bro

- and they awkwardly just mumble and go back to their beds

- but Zuko is smiling a lot because someone who’s not his family or a family friend really cares about him

- after that, Zuko slowly starts opening up to all of them, but Sokka especially

- he never really tells them about being cast out and burned tho

- until one day he kinda casually slings it into a convo all fast and awkwardly

- it’s just Toph, Aang and Sokka there

- Toph yells so WHAATTT so loudly and just metalbends the whole fridge into a clump in rage

- Aang cries lmao but he tries to hide to and be supportive and not awkward

- Sokka is kinda quiet, but he carefully asks about it that night when they’re in their beds, and they talk a little about it

- Aang tells Katara (with permission) and she awkwardly, but wholeheartedly tells him that he can always talk to her

- they do that «awkward sibling hug» from Gravity Falls after

- *hugs stiffly* «pat, pat»

- but okay, Toph and metalbending when angry, it happens quite a lot

- this was the first time it was the fridge, but the toaster, the microwave, and several other appliances have met the same fate

- everyone is kinda used to it now, and she always replaces it

- except Zuko, who’s still kinda new to them all

- but what are you supposed to say when your new friends is so outraged by the abuse you went through that they crush a whole ass fridge?

- it actually reminds him that he’s cared for here, by these people who owe him nothing, and is not related to him, and it makes him a little dizzy to have people care this way

- he casually mentions it to his Uncle Iroh the time he’s in at work, that his new friend is a metalbender and squashed their whole fridge when she was pissed on his behalf

- Iroh is thrilled

- to the point of offering Toph a job lmao

- Toph, desperate to cut of as much ties with her family and be as self-sufficient as possible, agrees

- and now Iroh have two formerly rich kids with no clue about any sort of customer service and basic stuff like that working for him

- Toph is a hard worker tho, and she and Zuko work surprisingly well together

- Katara is a little relived, because the more those two work, the less are the chances of either of them trying to cook or do too many chores around their apartment

- they mean well, or, Zuko does, but he does so much dumb shit when trying to help lmao

- Sokka starts spending a lot of time over at The Jasmine Drago too

- Aang is still trying to keep the fact that Sokka likes Zuko a secret, but he is having trouble

- Katara is his biggest weakness, and now they’re suddenly alone with her a lot

- someone else who could always read Sokka really well is Suki

. whom he used date in high school, but they parted as friends and everything s cool

- but Sokka is a little taken aback when she comes into The Jasmine Dragon one day, hand in hand with Sokka’s childhood crush obsession, Yue

- for the first time in man’s memory, Sokka is a little speechless

- and Suki’s like “lmao dude I haven’t seen you like this since the first time you saw Zu-”

- cue Zuko popping out behind them like “WELCOME TO THE JASMINE DRAGON FRIENDS OF SOKKA :D”

- Sokka is so fucking red, poor boy is just about having an aneurism at this point

- but luckily something happens and Zuko gets distracted

- Suki is having the time of her life tho, Sokka always used to tease her for her crushes before and after they dated, and suddenly, here they are

- at the apartment, Aang decides they need some apartment traditions

- they’ve been living there for almost three months, after all

- so he decides that weekly movie nights are mandatory

- so are pillowforts

- Katara is actually really excited for it, she loves all things cozy and fall-like

- also… she is weak for Aang, y’all, and she loves seeing him all excited

- Zuko barely knows what a pillowfort is, he didn’t think real people actually made it

- but imagine these dorks in a pillowfort with hot chocolate and lot’s of pillows

- Toph claims that she thinks it’s soo dumb, but she will always make sit in the middle of the group all wrapped in her blanket and laughing when the others jump and get spooked from the horror movies Sokka always wants to watch

- and she will make sure the fort is right and perfect lmao

- Zuko is a little awkward about it at first, but he likes it too

- Sokka always manages to plop in next to Zuko lmao

- they haven’t talked about the head patting incident yet, but Zuko is def starting to feel the butterflies

- one time after a movie night Sokka falls asleep on Zuko’s shoulder, after the others have left for the night

- Zuko can’t resist waking him up with awkward head pats similar to the one Sokka used on him

- Sokka thinks he died and went to heaven lmao

- but then he fully wakes and sees Zuko’s shit eating grin and can’t help but laugh at the whole thing

- and Zuko has his “oh no he’s hot beautiful and I really adore him” moment

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dancingthesambaa · 3 years

Text

The Smell of Plum Blossom Tea Ch 14

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

Also as a heads up, since college started back up for me I decided to change my posting to every Thursday night rather than Friday Mornings. There also might be times where I won't be able to post that week or be late due to schooling, so this is an apology in advance!!!

Chapter 14: Memories Intertwined

A clear cut path was set for the public eye as it stood between rows upon rows of Plum Blossom trees and flowers spread all around. There were quite an abundance of people along these paths as families came together for a picnic, couples went for a stroll together as they held hands, or the occasional jogger or artist that ran or drew as they wandered in. Many don’t try to venture off the path, not because of its danger, but rather in fear of getting lost in the woods.

Well except for two people, a human and a Monkey, as they stood on the outskirts of the forest.

“Well this is it, welcome to the Plum Blossom Forest,” MK said as with his arms raised high. “The most awesomest place to be.”

It took a few minutes for Wukong to respond as he took in the beautiful view, but also felt that there was something else rooted in the leaves, along the branches, and deep into the ground within the forest. It wasn’t bad, just something different. Normal trees don't usually have any types of aura on them unless they are spiritual in nature, these aren’t those types of trees. At the same time though it does, he can’t quite put his fingers on it, but it just feels like…like safety. “Yeah, it is.”

“Monkey King?”

“O-oh yeah,” he snapped out of it, “this place looks absolutely amazing.”

“It sure is, now follow me,” MK went into the forest as the Monkey King followed.

“It would probably be faster if I used my cloud instead of going through the forest, you know,” he pointed out.

“Sure, but this is your first time, so you have to experience it on foot at least for your very first experience!” He countered.

“You got me there,” he grinned, “on foot it is. So, tell me more about this place, anything interesting about it besides the abundance of trees?”

“Tons! Like this forest doesn’t just have regular animals, but it also has so many mythical creatures living here!”

“Really? What kind?”

“Well we have a few Qilins that like to roam around here.”

“Qilin, haven’t seen one of those in a hot second,” he muttered.

“They sometimes come and go, but some even make a den here,” MK continued.

The further they went in the clearer it was that MK really knew the forest as he began to excitedly tell all sorts of things to his mentor.

“So the faeries tribe get along with the Xianglu? Now that is something I didn’t think was possible, the faeries are especially a…crafty bunch,” which was Wukong's way of saying manipulative sons of bitches. He got lost in a forest for a month because of those little bastards.

“Not really surprisingly, they both like to collect shiny things so they usually like to show the other what they have found, bargained, and/or stolen,” he shrugged. “And-oh hey BaBa!” He cheerily waved to his long time friend.

Wukong just blinked as he looked at her and just nodded, “Okay, not even gonna ask how or why he managed to get a Bashe here.”

“Dad says that apparently she just came here one day and decided to stay.”

The monkey opened his mouth and promptly closed it instead to bow to her, “It’s nice to meet you.”

BaBa gave a shallow nod to him and laid her giant head back down and curled up in the sun rays.

“Come on! We’re almost there,” he grabbed the Monkey King's hand and dragged him back on track, or at least they tried to get back on track as not even twenty minutes later, MK was ambushed by a couple of macaque monkeys.

“Guys! Guys! I’ll play with you all later,” he tried to push them away, but they held a tight grip on him. “Guys! Why are-don’t you even think about it,” he snatched one by the tail, who was sneakily digging into his pockets and hanged him upside down. “Really?”

They all just grinned at him as the infants attempted once more.

“That’s-okay, no! You can’t just steal from me like that unless you have a distraction in place,” he managed to gather all four of them in his arms and put them down. “A distraction helps a lot, it will steer your target attention away from the pickpocketer and towards something else.”

The monkeys were paying very much attention to his impromptu lecture as they stared wide eyed.

Wukong, on the other hand, was holding back his laugh as he looked on in the scene with fondness and amusement as he was drawn into a familiar memory.

“I can easily steal from those people no problem, why do I have to disguise myself and sneak in?” Wukong groaned out as they made their way to the edge of the market.

“Just because they look weak doesn’t mean they are, haven’t you heard the phrase ‘Don’t judge things on how they look.’” Macaque argued back.

“No.”

“Of course you haven’t,” he rolled his eyes, “well how about this, you distract them, I’ll grab the food from the assholes.”

“Works for me!” He happily threw away his brown cloak and gave a loud screech as he dashed through the market causing a huge commotion when he ran into people.

“I didn’t mean now,” he hissed to himself as he quickly grabbed the fallen cloak, but nonetheless got to work as he stole from the fruit vendor, who cussed them both out yesterday, grabbed a few loaves of bread from the bitch who decided to stomp on Wukong tail, and took a few things here and there from customers who he recognized from other days that always sneered in disgust when they saw him.

He was just about done wrapping up, and with such a nice haul, all that was left now was to sneak around and look for Wukong, quickly tug on his shadow to bail out and make way to the forest.

Unfortunately, it didn’t work out quite like that as not even twenty paces in he heard sounds of a fight occurring as many scruffed up looking people were all going at it at each other, and guess which reckless monkey is in the middle of it all.

“Damn it Wukong,” his eye twitched as he once again contemplated about leaving his reckless ass, but begrudgingly moved his way to the front. The first, and last, time he had tried that, he got side tackled hard by the monkey and he swears the bruises haven’t left him since.

When he reached the point where he was not entirely in the front, but still had a good angle on the fight, he saw that it wasn’t just humans that were drunkenly fighting each other, but also demons…who were wielding weapons.

“Shit!” The monkey shrieked as he dodged a flaming spear to the back of the head.

Weapons that happened to be enchanted…great.

“How does he even get himself into these messes,” Macaque lowly growled as he made sure everyone's attention was focused on the fight before slipping into the shadows, something he has recently been learning when he saw something on the rooftop. There was a figure standing there and in his hands was a bow and arrow that was aimed right towards the fighting monkey.

Now this wouldn’t usually worry him, he has seen him tussle with deities for fun, but then he noticed that the arrow too was also enchanted as he heard a soft crackle and saw a shimmering blue glow as he soon released it.

“Shit!” He quickly, and he will admit a bit recklessly, dived into the shadows and straight in the middle of the brawl.

Good news, he made it to the middle of the brawl and tackled his friend out of the way. Bad news, he currently has an arrow stuck in his right shoulder that hurt worse than the time he got stabbed by the selkie.

“Fuck!” He grunted as he laid on top of Wukong and promptly winced when everyone started screaming at the arrow that came out of nowhere.

“Mac! What do you do that for-your shoulder!” He screeched as he got the monkey off of him and sat him up and saw his shoulder was currently smoking. He didn’t even look back to use his tail to throw the man about to attack them from behind as he was focused on the arrow. “What happened?!”

“We can worry about this later,” he gritted as he tried to stand up, only for his head to feel dizzy and he stumbled.

Wukong quickly grabbed him before he could fall and set him back down. He knew that he had to get the arrow out of him soon, but now was not the best time to do that as he gazed upon the people looming over them. He looked to see his friend trying to stand back up despite his injuries and was fully ready to fight back with him.

It was time to go.

The monkey stopped his black furred companion from moving, “Shall we bail?”

Macaque gave a nod as he grabbed his friend and sank him down into the shadows once more and managed to travel all the way to the outskirts of the fight. They didn’t stop there though as Macaque quickly gave Wukong his cloak back and the two began to make their way through the town, past the entrance, and back into the field with a large tree stood, which is where they agreed to meet up in case things went south, like a lot of times before.

“Well,” the injured monkey grunted as he sat down, “that could have gone a lot worse.”

“You're telling me,” the bruised simian agreed as he began to look over the arrow that was still embedded in his friend's back. “Sit still, I’m about to take this out.”

“Yeahhh, it hurts like hell,” he grumbled as he sat in place as Wukong got the arrow out and only flinched when he began to lick the wound shut. The first time he found out that this was a thing was when he pricked his hand against a thorny bush and the impulsive simian decided to put his finger in his mouth without warning. He had almost chucked the monkey for that. Soon enough it was over as the bleeding stopped and the tongue left his back.

“That should be good, though you were an idiot for getting struck in the first place,” he said.

“Me?! I was only doing that to save your stupid ass,” he indignantly said.

“I would have been fine!”

“Maybe, but I wasn’t about to take that chance with an enchanted weapon,” he shot back.

“That does explain the weird marking, wait there was another one?” He was already interested in that flaming stick that the demon used, but now there was another weapon he didn’t even see…that had struck his friend…he really wants a round two with those fuckers. “Who even were they?”

“Hopefully people we don’t have to meet anytime soon,” Mac grunted as he took the sack that he managed to quickly snag on their way back and grabbed himself a nice looking mango. “Come to papa,” he said and took a big bite.

“Bring it here,” he said and he caught the bag thrown at him and rummaged through it a bit before he found some nice looking loquat.

After that, they filled the two rested up in the tree, and dozed off in a peaceful slumber. Though the same couldn’t be said for a certain group of people as in the middle of the night they were ambushed by a cloaked figure and proceeded to get thoroughly pummeled into unconsciousness, the archer especially as his hands were broken beyond use and his bow shattered. Then the figure slipped off into the night with his hoard of coins and trinket stashed into his pocket and bounded his back to the tree where his friend laid.

No one was allowed to mess with anything that was claimed by the great Monkey King after all.

“Bye! Now use that to mess with everyone else!” He was snapped back to reality as he saw the monkeys leaving and MK waving to them. “But don’t use it on the faeries please, they tend to hold grudges!”

They got screeches of confirmation as they eventually vanished from sight and were ready to commence their new found knowledge amongst the wildlife.

“Alrighty,” his protege clapped his hands, “let’s back on track.”

“I’m just gonna assume that means we’re heading to that big tree over there,” he pointed to the enormous tree they were heading towards.

“Yup! It’s the very first Plum Blossom Tree that was grown here!” He stated as they continued onward, “and it’s where our home is.”

“You guys live in a treehouse,” Monkey King amusedly said.

“Yup!” He exclaimed as he began to climb up the tree and leap towards the house, “race ya there!”

“You're trying to challenge a monkey?” He grinned as he easily began to catch up to him. “You don’t stand a chance!”

“Home Field advantage!”

“Dream on!”

“First!” Wukong cheered as he landed on the wooden porch.

“Damnit!” MK said not even a second after, “you cheated! You pulled me down!”

“All is fair in love and races,” he cockily grins then he stilled as he felt a killer intent behind him. He swiveled around only to stop and see a smiling child behind him. “Hel-”

“MK, it’s about time you got here,” the girl playfully rolled her eyes as she wrapped her arm around him. “It took you long enough.”

“Says the one who was lazing about here waiting for us, speaking of us,” he wiggled out of his sister's arm and pointed to the monkey. “Mei meet the Monkey King!”

It could have just been Wukong, but he swore that her grin seemed to grow a little wider when their eyes met. “It’s nice to meet you Mei,” he tried to play off that weird feeling.

“Same,” she said as she stepped forward and pushed MK towards the kitchen, “it’s your turn to help pops in the kitchen.”

“Why? Can’t you do it?” He whined, he literally just finished walking here.

“I already did my part, now wash those nasty hands of yours,” she fully pushed him out the room.

“But-”

“Bye~”

“Ugh fine!,” he huffed and turned to his mentor, “You can wait in the living room with Mei! I’m pretty sure there are still some plums if you want, we have plenty of those.”

“You're telling me,” Wukong chuckled as he saw his student leave the room, so he turned back to Mei. “So how long have you-” he paused as he saw the pigtailed girl hold up a small piece of paper in front of him with words saying.

I don’t like you

“Umm,” he paused as Mei continued to smile.

“Well let me show you the living room,” she said as she went to the next card.

You may be MK mentor, the great and powerful Monkey King, and Dad old friend, and they may have both forgiven you, but I will not

“Thank you,” he managed to wrangle out as he followed Mei who began to walk forward.

“It’s no problem,” she said as they made it to the living room and held out the last card. “Just promise me to remember where it is next time monkey man.”

I know what happened and I’m keeping an eye on you, cause if you fuck up again then it won’t be pretty

Her eyes glowed a dark green as she stared down with wary golden eyes.

“I promise,” he nodded his head.

She looked at him for a few moments before walking away, passing by a trash can filled with torn up letters, and to the kitchen, but not before calling out, “I do hope you keep that in mind.”

It was only after she had left that Wukong sank down into his seat and breathed. ‘Well that wasn’t frightening at all,’ he sarcastically said to himself as he picked up a plum from the middle of the table and began to eat it. ‘I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I expected it to be from the awkwardness, not the girl who looked like she would gladly see me twenty feet under.’

He would continue his train of thought, but then he smelled something delicious making his way to him and saw Mac walk towards him with a plate in hand.

“Hope you still like dumplings,” he said as he plopped a huge tray of dumplings, filled with various fillings, in the middle of the table.

“Hell yeah…So you learned how to cook?” He was about to reach for the chopstick but paused and waited until the other monkey sat down first.

“Kinda had to with everything and all,” he didn’t specify as he sat down on a chair adjacent to the couch Wukong was on.

“Do you know how to cook?” Wukong was momentarily surprised at MK's voice as he and Mei were actually following behind the monkey and carrying plates, cups, and a pot.

“In a way yes, thank you,” he nodded his head to Mei as she gave him a wide grin.

“Hair food does not count,” Mac deadpanned.

“Hair food?” Both teenagers looked in confusion.

“He uses his hair to make food.”

“It’s not that bad,” he tried to defend himself.

“It’s fast I’ll admit, but it’s bland as hell,” he stated.

“It’s still not that bad.”

“I’ll take your word for that,” MK said as he sat down next to his mentor and happily began to eat the dumpling.

Wukong, after seeing everyone starting to eat, began to follow suit and his eyes widened as he quickly grabbed another dumpling. “This is delicious!”

“More than your hair food,” the black simian smirk.

Wukong stuffed another dumpling in his mouth in place of answering and drank some Plum tea, only to blink in surprise. “What kind of tea is spicy?”

“Pffft,” Mac couldn’t help himself as he barked out a laugh that was quickly followed by MK giggles.

And that’s how it was for the rest of the lunch, small chatter here and there, mostly from MK as he talked about his week or Wukong in his small questions from ‘What he likes to grow in his garden?’ to ‘How long did he take to build his home?’ It was nothing too invasive, just simple questions here and there and they finished up the plate, though there was a small fight between both humans and the sage monkey over who would get the last beef dumpling. It was a tense match, but it was MK who won in the end after a serious battle of Jan Ken Po.

“Victory tastes so good,” he smirked as he devoured the dumpling.

“I will remember this,” Mei hissed as she messed with her pigtails.

“Maybe it’s time we review the basics again,” Wukong huffed and he slurped down the tea.

“You're just mad that I won.”

“Children all of you,” Mac said as he got his clone to put the plates in the sink.

“You're not wrong,” she said as she leaned back against him.

The simian hands then began to unconsciously undo her messed up pigtails and groom her hair. Both parties didn’t really take note of the change as this was a daily routine for anyone who has known them long enough.

Wukong just eyed the scene with mirth and a small bit of jealousy, that he will forever deny, as he watched his friend groom his child.

“Can I groom your fur,” he was startled by MK’s question.

“Wha-I mean, sure,” he quickly agreed after getting caught off by the question.

He smiled widely as he pushed the great sage Monkey King to the floor and began to gently groom his hair as well. He couldn’t help himself slowly become relaxed as the fingers gently caressed his fur. He has done this multiple times with his tribe, but this feeling will never get old.

“What is up with your fur being so soft?” The boy commented, “Dad’s fur is super soft and now yours? Is there a rule that demon monkey fur has to be soft?”

“Technically not a demon, but that is just the side effect of quality grooming,” he had to stop himself from letting a purr out as the kid continued. “Makes the fur nice and silky.”

He didn’t really pay attention to what his student said next as he closed his eyes and let the soft hands thread through his fur then when he opened his eyes once more it was dark and the hands had stopped.

He took a quick glance around and saw that he must have dozed off during their impromptu grooming session as he saw MK was now leaning against him in deep sleep and Mei curled up like a small cat on the couch with a pillow under her head. Yet there was no Macaque insight, his eyes flashed a bright golden as he scanned the area and saw the familiar outline of violet aura sitting on the railing outside.

So, he carefully dislodged himself from his student grip, laid him down gently with a blanket, and softly padded his way outside the warm home and into the cool night air.

“Could have sworn you were passed out,” Mac said as Wukong sat down next to him.

“What can I say, grooming plus silence equals sleepy time,” he shrugged, kicking his feet as he looked around, “you do have a nice home.”

“Thanks,” he awkwardly answered.

“Must have taken quite some time to build.”

“A few years.”

“Oh,” he said, then an awkward silence filled the air as neither side knew what to do without the kids acting as some sort of buffer between the two. Neither monkeys knew how to go from here despite one inviting the other over, they didn't know where exactly how to start nor, which is both their biggest worry, how it might end. But the inevitable conversation did need to start, so Wukong turned to his friend.

“Look, about the whole fight the other day and me saying you were just trying to use MK, I’m sorry,” he really knew he did a major fuck up then. “You really do care for the both of them and I can tell that they really love you as well.”

“…thanks, I got really lucky having them in my life,” he smiled then he winced, “Sorry about almost killing your friends back then, that was stupid of me.”

“Yeahhh, about that,” he turned his whole body to face him, “that has been nagging me for the longest of times. Why did you attack them?” He surprisingly watched the black furred monkey groan and put his face in his hands.

“It was both parts stupidly and sheer impulsiveness. I came to find you after Guanyin freed you and I heard you screaming and I saw you in pain, I thought you were being tortured,” he quietly replied.

Wukong's eyes were shot wide open as the truth of this finally came to light. This whole time he thought rage towards humans finally erupted in one huge explosion and attacked them, but it wasn’t. That wasn’t it. Macaque attacked them because he thought they were hurting him, he attacked his friends because he thought he was in pain because of them. Everything that happened, from the fight to their long separation was due to a fucking screwed-up misunderstanding!

“Oh,” yet he didn’t know how to voice any of that out, which is ironic considering he is known for being a loudmouth after his impulsiveness.

“I am sorry,” he reiterated as he barely got a reaction out of his friend. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions, but I just heard screams and I saw you lying there, that I couldn’t stop myself from listening to the voices,” he admitted. Wukong is one of the few people he has ever told about the voices that like to whisper in his ears all their malicious intent and their cruel lust.

“…we both are truly hot messes huh,” he finally said as he looked back to the moon and gave him a small nudge. “Just look at the two of us, you somehow became the recluse medicine man that lives in the forest alone, but still somehow ends up with two kids, and me, who lives up in the tallest of mountains and became the Great Sage Equal to Heaven.”

“You forgot to add reckless idiot, somewhere there,” Mac lightly jokes.

“Heh yeah…I forgive you,” he quietly stated.

Macaque whipped his head to him, “Just like that? I almost killed you and your friends back then and that whole fight, and the words-” they both winced at the reminder of those damned words they spoke to the other. “What I did was horrible.”

“And we fought and I made you fucking blind!” He hissed out as he tried to see past the glamor in place to look at his hazy eye.

“I’m pretty sure I left you with a few scars yourself,” he shot back.

“A few scars are nothing compared to being blind!”

“That is just one injury compared to the multitude!”

“It doesn’t work like that, you are literally a physician?!” He threw his hands up.

“And I do declare myself completely capable despite my disability!” He barked back.

“I never said you weren’t capable, I know better than to underestimate you. Remember back with the fire spirits.”

“Which ones?”

“The arrogant bastard ones.”

“Which ones? There are numerous of them,” he deadpanned.

“The ones centered by the river, you know the spirits who thought they were powerful enough-”

“To take on the deity that commanded that puddle of water,” he said with him and continued. “I still can’t believe that those words came out of his mouth,” he snorted.

“And after we kicked their asses,” Wukong reminded him with a wide grin, “remember the look on their faces when the river goddess heard what they said.”

“I have never seen a fire spirit look like they want to piss themselves that fast before,” he barked out his laughter.

“Right!”

The two shared a laugh at the memory of the deity whooping their asses once more as the arrogant spirits either ran away screaming or died beneath her thundering waves. Both of them were completely safe as they watched the entire thing from on top of a tree and made bets over which idiots would survive. Their laughter eventually died down as the night silence took over once more, but it wasn’t the awkward silence that greeted them but a kindling of familiar comfort they shared before.

“We really are idiots,” the medicine monkey faintly commented.

“Glad to hear you finally admit it,” the sage monkey replied then he paused as he thought for a moment, but pushed forward. “After our many years of friendship, I would have never thought I would ever hear the day.”

Mac's eyes widened at his admission, “Friends?”

“Yep,” he boldly looked him in the eyes, “I mean I have spent centuries with you, so I think we are way past that level you know.”

“Despite not seeing each other in between those centuries,” the simian retorted.

“Well friends do have stupid fights with each other sometimes, it’s just not specifically for mortals you know,” the monkey slightly grinned.

“You're not wrong,” he swung his feet, “do…do you want to start over? Maybe try anew?” Thinking that maybe they couldn’t go back to how things were before, how the easy smiles and laughter that they used to share between the two of them and thoroughly dissipated. That maybe, if they begin right here and right now, there can be some resemblance of that bond that was once shattered.

Wukong let that answer sink in and ponder it only for a few moments before shuddering. “I…no I really don’t,” he said with a surprising harshness in his tone. “You were the one person who has known me longer than anyone other than the ones that still reside on the mountain, you are the only one who knows me the best out of anyone, and call me selfish, but I don’t want to start over with the only person who knew me from the inside out and still give a damn about me.” He can’t even imagine just throwing away all those years that he spent with moonshine, it would be easier if they ripped his head out instead, at least then the pain won’t be so bad. “So how about we both agree we made and did stupid ass decisions and continue on, cause if I’m being honest here, I really missed your grooming,” he teased.

“You just want me for my hands,” he couldn’t help but say.

“You do have very lovely hands,” he didn’t deny.

Macaque snorted before nodding, “Yeah, I like that peaches.”

“It’s been a while, mango,” Wukong grinned as he took in his friend form once more. He really had changed a lot since the last time he saw him, who he was is still the same, but he has opened up his soul a little wider and has beautifully flourished. Just how, well he just has to see more for himself. But not just his soul, but his whole outer appearance and he’s not talking about his ‘feminine’ clothing, both of them aren’t ones who care for gender roles or whatever the humans have decided their identity is based around. Rather his long fur that is swaying gently in the breeze under the moonlight night.

He couldn’t stop himself from taking glances at that fur each time he looked at the black furred simian. From just the sheer size to the fluffiness, as his student had proclaimed (though he can’t help but agree) he really just wants to thread his fingers through his fur. Maybe it’s just the absence of not grooming his friend fur in a long ass time, but he wants to remember how soft his fur is, to gently smooth out any tangles, to let him sit in between his legs as Mac sinks into his ministration and purr once more, to hold him as long as he can as they gently relax in each other arms to have his hands move down from his gorgeous fur and to his beautiful face and tilt his head up so that his golden eyes meet his own and ben his head down to meet-…oh.

And it was at this moment as he stared at Liu Er face did the thought occur to him as their tails unconsciously had entwined for the first time in over five hundred years and sat together beneath the stars.

‘I still love him,’ he faintly thought and his own heart pounded in confirmation. Not even when they have been separated for five hundred years did he stop loving his moonlight. ‘I really won’t stop loving him…and for some reason, I don’t mind.’

But instead of saying anything, he instead put his face on top of Macque's head and playfully nuzzled him. He can see his moon fondly rolling his eyes at his antics, but lean in as he feels his smaller friend rest his head on his shoulder.

‘This is enough,’ both simians privately thought as they cuddled close together.

Though they weren’t quite alone as two pairs of eyes were trained on them from the living room and they haven’t moved an inch since they heard Monkey King walk outside for the first time.

Mei and MK looked at each other in complete shock as they took in the scene. The surprise wasn’t from their conversation nor from the harmonious aura that surrounded them, but rather from the black and brown tails that were intertwined with each other. Now they may not know how romantic love feels and looks except from t.v, movies, couples strolling, and the scarce amount of times Mei parents come around, but they can tell there is something definitely there as it was hanging around the two monkeys and seeing them like this, it clicked.

‘Holy shit, Monkey King is the old flame!’ MK exclaimed with his eyes as he looked toward Mei.

‘It would seem so,’ her eyes flickered.

‘And he likes Dad back!’ His eyes widened.

‘Indeed he does,’ she narrowed her viridian eyes.

‘What do we do?’ He blinked three times as he was happy that they reconciled, but was unsure of what’s to come.

‘Watch for now and see what happens,’ she breathed as they both turned to look at the two silent monkeys basking together in the night.

Slow burn? Slow Burn?! They have been slow burning for countless centuries that even the polar bears are starting to feel the heat

HAHAHAHA I’m turning up the fucking heat for these damn monkeys

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #mk #macaque #six eared macaque #monkey king #PlumTeaAU

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ivanabaqero · 3 years

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Since I just returned from rehab, here is my.. idk, emotional journey on my chronic illness + mental health or wtf ever u wanna call this. This is the most personal thing I have ever posted but I need to get it out.

Before you read, I guess I gotta tw this for suicidal thoughts and descriptions of my symptoms.

I don’t even know where to start. It feels like all of this happened in one week and at the same in a span of several years. But no idea, time just kept passing and more shit happened.

Last summer was pretty cool. I worked hard and made a fuckton of money - not really considering the consequences of the fact that I overstepped the boundaries of my body every single day. Either way, I regret nothing it was pretty cool and another experience I am glad I could make. Well, but when I came back home, I started to notice a few things. Among some weird shit nobody wants to know about, I noticed a change of my eyesight. There was a cloud right on the vision on my left eye and it got blurry. At first, it started with minutes and then it passed. But I knew my body responded to exhaustion in an odd way so I let it slide. As doctors have instructed me, only when it lasts over 24 hours it’s an actual episode/flare and I should go to the ER -- to elaborate this further, I have been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in 2015 and have not had any bigger flares since, only the regular symptoms like fatigue, etc.

I got treated with the regular medication; cortisone. This shit gave me some energy boost for a few days and then, things went back to somewhat normal. The blurry thing in my eye has changed into a weird ass thing called nystagmus. Basically, my eyeball was twitching. It was better than the blurry sight and my doctors told me that physical therapy was the only thing to help me with that, and up until some weeks ago this didn’t stop, at the moment it’s gotten way better though - a relief because that caused me mad headache and made reading really difficult.

Anyway, that was the smaller problem. A few months later, in December around Christmas, I have gotten really weak and have been constantly dizzy. As usual, I let it slide for some days. Up until that point when I couldn’t move from the bed or look at anything else but right up at the ceiling or I would get fucking dizzy. Back to the ER again, the same procedure began. Cortisone resulted in a massive push of energy that lasted for some days, but after that, all the symptoms slowly returned. Not only that, but it started to get worse. I have been dragging and limping with my left foot since months but I still managed somehow to walk and get around. In January I had a major panic attack when I noticed that I couldn’t walk on my own to my doctors, which is merely an 8 minute walk away. I had to call my mom to bring me back home because I couldn’t go any step more. My doctor sent me to the ER but the next day, I decided that I was fine and being over dramatic and everything was perfectly fine. The whole thing kept getting worse, I could not walk anymore, I kept feeling dizzy all the time unless I was staring at only one spot: my laptop or phone. So that was what I did, ignore my symptoms. Adding to my chronic fatigue, dizziness, inability to walk and my eye problem, a sensitivity problem spread all over my body from the chest downwards. My hands hurt and my fingers cramped up and got stiff, I lost all feeling in my feet. I had an appointment at the neurologist thank god, or else, I would have let it gotten worse and kept telling myself that I am being over dramatic and nothing is actually wrong. Delusional? Maybe. I don’t understand myself there either.

The neurologist decided to keep me in hospital for a whole ass week, getting cortisone every day. I got in there with the ambulance in a wheelchair and left out of there walking again. Not perfectly, but I thought things were looking up. Of course, once the high dose of steroids begins to wear off and you slowly come down from it, you first catch sleep. Steroids this time have been given to me five days in high dose instead of three and in addition, I had to take pills that I had to reduce slowly over another two weeks. I did not sleep in those three weeks more than 3-4 hours per night and then I finally could. To make this more understandable; my brain was tired but my body was buzzing. I also had a tremor that has still not entirely left me as a wonderful side effect from the medication.

That time stationary they finally put me back in a MRT and found 2 bigger new lesions. One of them in my cerebellum and the other in my spinal cord. Each of them causing me all those massive problems. Back at home I had physical therapy every day, but despite all of it, I had to rely on a wheelchair. I got my wheelchair in march and named him Otto because he is the best man ever. Next time in hospital, I was mentally and physically just fucking done and tried to just ignore how much my mental health was going downhill along with my body, the neurologist offered me stationary rehab at a very well known center where they treat several physical as well as mental illnesses. I said yes, and luckily got a place in July.

The initial plan was to stay there for four weeks, but the doctors suggested to extend to six. I did. And good that I did. I made slow progress. Very slow. To imagine, in twenty minutes at the first day I could barely walk 130m with four breaks in between, with walking aid and what not - and my last day I made 640m in the same time with no breaks. I know this doesn’t sound like a lot but fuck -- I made it out of a fucking wheelchair. I am walking again. Not perfectly or any good, but my legs are used for their purpose again; to get me through this world. For someone who loves hiking and going for little walks alone, this was such a big deal to just not be able to anymore.

The day I had the panic attack was the day I realized that in 2015 I made a promise to myself that if I ever have to rely on other people, I would end it. But I felt selfish for not wanting to end it. I felt selfish for wanting to live and being a burden to people. I know, none of this is my fault and I am the first to give good advice, but am I good at handling my own shit? Absolutely not.

With all the physical therapy I did for six weeks every day, I also had a psychologist that helped me understand myself better and deal with the trauma this experience brought me. I have to find another psychologist at home as well, because I didn’t feel the one I have helped me at all. I had to make a lot of promises to myself, such as accepting and asking for help and that it’s no shame in doing so. I feared losing my independence and I still do. But fuck, this experience was an eye opener in so many ways. I made new friends in rehab as well, which was one of the coolest things. And I got hit on by two attractive men - can you believe? I was in a wheelchair, dressed like absolute shit and not making any kind of deal of how I look! But yeah, my interest wasn’t really there to get involved in anything. I’ve got a lot of love to give but I need to give it to myself rather than pour it out on someone else.

I learned so many lessons, about my body and about my mind. My brain is an idiot and I have so many fears I was never even able to see until now. I thought optimism could beat everything and well... while it helps me a lot to get through every day life, every now and then I just need a slap in the face to look at things in another light. Not everything is fine if you tell yourself it is, no, you are not over reacting and you are allowed to feel sorry for yourself when life is dealing you a bad card. It doesn’t matter that other people have it worse -- it doesn’t mean your own shit is any less valid. And with that, I am going to wash my face and stop crying. I am still in a shock of reality state because I am back at home now and everything is different. And I got to admit, I feel a little lonely. But I don’t want to reach out to my old friends at the moment with whom I felt like the “sick friend”. I want more friends in similar positions as me so I don’t have to feel bad for... well, feeling bad, and I don’t want to hear any more optimism monologues from healthy people who have absolutely no idea what it is like to have chronic pain, fatigue and overall; an illness. Whether it be mental or physical.

If you really read all of this, thank you. There was no need to, but I appreciate it. I honestly just needed to let it out. Because I haven’t done so properly since all of that started.

#shush vanana #uhh #no tags i am lazy

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klbwriting · 3 years

Text

Unexpected Allies - Chapter 9

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: Kaz/female!Reader

Summary: The Dregs finally have some bonding time but its ruined

Note: So complete honesty, the second song that inspired this fic makes an appearance in this chapter and its uh ‘I2I’ from A Goofy Movie so yes, you can all imagine my surprise when I heard this play for my kids and instantly said ‘the Dregs would love this shit’ and well, I went with it, also I think I used this gif already but I love it so its appearing again

Taglist: @amwitherspoon @mcntsee

Y/N spent the next day trying to catch up with everyone from her past, seeing old friends and even training the new Grisha that were volunteering for the army. It was refreshing after being forced to play a role she hated for so many years. She felt freer than she had in a long time and she felt herself coming out of her shell more. She struck up an instant friendship with Nina as the women trained the up and coming Grisha and she finally asked about Kaz's time in Ketterdam more. "So in Ketterdam you were a servant?" Y/N asked, staring at Nina surprised. "And I knew Kaz was in the Dregs but he wasn't the actual leader?" "I was an indenture," Nina corrected. "And no, Kaz was second in command to Per Haskell and well, I guess since Per didn't survive the assault Kaz is sort of in charge now. He probably said he was in charge to impress you." Y/N blushed and tried to brush it off. "I don't think Kaz goes around thinking about how to impress me," she said, sitting down at the dinner table with her plate of food. Nina smiled and shook her head. "Look, we all know that you and Kaz have a thing, Jesper can't keep his mouth shut, but we've all agreed that we don't want to say anything because no one wants to die by caning," she said. "So yes, Kaz Brekker thinks about impressing you, and apparently stalks you since that's about the 6th time I've seen him looking at you since lunch." She nodded her head towards the line for food where Kaz was standing. When Y/N looked and saw him he looked at Matthias as if he had been listening to what the giant was saying. Y/N shook her head and looked back at Nina. "I'm impressed that you somehow broke through that icy wall he has around him." "I don't think I broke it, feels kind of like I just found a small door and crawled through," she said. "I mostly just want him to be happy, well as close to happy as Kaz Brekker gets. Though I'm not made of kruge so I doubt he's that happy." "Who knows, maybe he likes you more than kruge," Nina said. Both women started laughing, drawing some attention to themselves. Jesper and Inej soon joined them with Wylan coming soon after. Matthias was next and finally Kaz. He approached the table and cleared his throat. Wylan looked up from his spot next to Y/N. "What?" he asked, noticing the murderous look on Kaz's face. Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled. "Move merchling before he gets angry," Jesper said, pulling Wylan closer to him. "I don't know how you tell...he always looks angry," the boy grumbled as he started eating. Y/N saw Kaz throw him a look before he started eating himself.

A few minutes into the conversation about the possible job that was going to be given to the Dregs Wylan threw a hand up and it smacked Kaz's shoulder. Kaz had let down his guard some, not really paying attention and didn't expect the interaction. He paled and felt a little dizzy for a moment, the world going a little fuzzy. He hadn't had an incident like this in a long time. He had come to expect the small bumps and touches from others and braced himself all the time for them. Now however, after the journey and him having held hands with Y/N last night, he had let down that guard thinking he was getting better, but this proved him wrong. No one else seemed to notice that he was struggling and he was glad, he didn't want them to see his weakness so clearly on display. He had to recover quick but at the moment he didn't know how, his vision wasn't refocusing and he could feel his chest closing, feeling sickness rising in him. "Kaz, listen to me." Her voice, he heard it in his head. At least he thought that's where it was. "Breathe. Breathe again. One more time. Now close your eyes and open them. Look at me." He did as she said and when he opened his eyes and looked at her he saw they were alone at the table. She smiled at him. "I told them you were still tired from the journey, they went to set up a fire circle for tonight, asked for us newcomers to join them." "Alright," Kaz said. He was still focusing on her voice, letting her talk and letting the sound ground him. From the way she was looking at him he thought that she knew what he was thinking so she kept on the conversation for them both. They wanted her to bring her guitar, wanted to hear her sing something. She hoped she didn't embarrass him with her song choice, it was going to be a silly thing she had written while in school. "Do you think you can stand and walk, they're waving us over now," she said. He hadn't realized it had gotten truly dark already. He was going to need to be better about keeping his guard up, he couldn't let something like that happen again. He nodded and stood, leaning more on his cane then normal. Y/N rose and kept a good distance between them, giving him space that he desperately needed and he appreciated her for it. They worked their way to the other Dregs and sat on seats around a roaring fire.

"Could have used your help with this thing Miss Inferni" Matthias said, giving her an annoyed look. Nina elbowed him in the ribs. "I could light your coat on fire if you really want to use my powers like I'm a trained dog," Y/N shot back, sitting down. Jesper had run to her tent and gotten her guitar. He sat down and handed it to her. Kaz sat down next to her and she felt his mood shift, his panic attack was over and he was back. He looked at her and nodded, confirming he was alright and she nodded back. "Play the song, I think we all want to hear it," Wylan said. The others murmured agreement and Y/N blushed. This song was so dumb and she was going to be mortified but she had promised. "Alright so remember I wrote this when I was around 14 so its going to sound like silly fantasy nonsense," she said. She tuned the guitar a little bit to make it sound brighter and started playing. It was more upbeat than anything she had played recently and she was really struggling with getting the rhythm down until she heard someone playing what sounded like drums near her. She looked up and Wylan had a bowl and some spoons and was making a beat for her to play too. 'Thank you' she mouthed to him and he smiled brightly back as he kept playing. She finally found the beat and started to sing.

"I got myself a notion, one I know that you'll understand To set the world in motion by reaching out for each other's hand"

She teasingly reached out to Kaz, a smile on her face so he knew she was playing. She expected him to blow her off, roll his eyes and look away, but to her surprise he actually squeezed her hand for just a moment before pulling back. She felt her heart do a little leap in her chest. It was one thing for him to touch her in private, where no one could see, but out here with friends was another story, he was comfortable with her and was showing it around others. The others didn't seem to notice as they were having fun moving in their seats, sometimes making wooping noises to the music as she kept singing about love saving the world. It was silly but it made everyone smile and that was what she was hoping to do. They deserved this time to bond as friends again. As the song ended they heard a mocking clapping from nearby. Y/N turned to look at who was ruining this moment and saw an older man who looked rough, and well, his eyes held evil in them, covered in a thin layer of cruelty. "That was lovely, just so sweet to see the Dregs back together," he said, voice light, like he was talking to old friends. Inej stood up, folding her arms. "Not now Rollins, we will speak later," she said. It clicked for Y/N who this was. Pekka Rollins. The man who had nearly destroyed Kaz. Rage roared inside her and she stood abruptly. She could feel the anger radiating off of Kaz next to her but he was controlling himself, biding his time.

"O, want to give me a private show little lady?" Pekka said. This brought Kaz to his feet. He had felt more then seen the rage that had filled Y/N when she realized who this was. He was practiced at containing his malice for Rollins but she wasn't. When she stood he stayed seated, hoping that Rollins would just finish whatever business he came here for and then leave. Apparently that wasn't going to happen. "What business?" Kaz asked like they were in Ketterdam again. He figured that's not how things worked around here but it would hopefully remind Rollins of whatever he came here to do. Rollins laughed. "Living in the past my friend, time to catch up. I just came to thank you Brekker, breaking me out of that Fjerda prison saved my life. If I hadn't be escaping I wouldn't have heard those Second Army shits talking about demolishing Ketterdam. Thanks to you I got most of my crew out, sorry about yours though, shame you couldn't get them out," he said. Kaz took a deep breath, remembering that his time to kill Rollins was fast approaching. He would do it in secret of course, take his time in the night and make sure that by morning the body would be unrecognizable. This mantra kept Kaz from striking the bastard right here. But it didn't keep Y/N at bay. Before anyone could react she threw a large rock right at Rollins's face, cracking him in the nose. Blood poured and he cried out in anger and pain. "You bitch!" he said. Y/N had a fireball in her hand ready to fire. "Leave now, your business here is finished," she said, becoming every inch the Darkling's second in that moment. Kaz could see her where someone evil, someone like him, could trust her, deep inside she was the same, she just worked to suppress those traits while he relished in them. Rollins took the hint and walked away, some of his crewmates coming over to help, glaring at Y/N as they left. Kaz and Y/N sat down again and they looked at each other. He was asking her to help him kill Pekka Rollins, tonight, without saying a word. She understood him completely and nodded. "Tonight," she said. He wished she hadn't spoken it aloud but it didn't really matter. "You can't kill him Kaz," Inej said. He looked at her with raised eyebrows. "His death is mine to collect," he said. "I call the shots for the Dregs and I saw when I take a life." Inej took a breath and he saw her change, her demeanor becoming one of a leader, ready to compete with him instead of work under him. "It doesn't work like that here Brekker," she said. "Pekka Rollins did get most of his crew out so our people from Ketterdam joined together, everyone was a Dime Lion or a Dreg and we were forced to become partners. If you kill Pekka Rollins then those sides will start infighting and this resistance already has enough of that. Leave him be, a Dreg cannot kill a Dime Lion." Kaz gripped his cane tight and stood, turning and walking a few steps. He stopped and glanced back, knowing that Y/N was following him. He let her catch up to him and they walked back to his tent. "I have a plan," she said as they entered. Kaz looked at her a little surprised and a little proud. "Let's hear it," he said. He knew they probably were thinking of the same plan but he would let her have the credit for it. "I'll get Rollins, if I had to subdue him I will but with how he looked at me I think he'll come willingly. We got out of camp and then you can have your revenge. I'll burn the body after. If he's found everyone will think I did it and after my display tonight I'm sure no one would be surprised. I'll make sure to distance myself from you and the Dregs out there, make sure they can't pin it on you guys," she said. Kaz smirked and nodded. Well, think you can work your magic in about an hour? Head out of the camp and go east, I heard there's a hut there for skinning animals, I think I'll borrow it," Kaz said, feeling the sick thrill of knowing he was going to do something truly horrifying.

#six of crows #kaz #kazbrekker #kaz brekker #kaz x reader #kaz brekker x reader #unexpected allies series

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angstyaches · 3 years

Note

This is trope anon from before :) It might be interesting to see Elliot put off feeling sick, because he is so caught up taking care of everyone else? He kind of strikes me as a worry about everyone else first kind of guy lol. Then absolutely regretting it later haha

If not Elliot, Ryan also kind of gives me similar vibes

CW: mention of disordered eating/malnourishment, trauma mention, overwork, nausea, emeto, dizziness, blood mention (he’s a vamp, so yeah), pining (for absent partner), platonic/brotherly caretaking

Author’s note: Elliott and Felix are going to be just FINE! They’re not even broken up; Felix is just a little AWOL after a fight they had. I just loooove me some angst.

Elliott’s vision went pitch black for a moment as he stood and waited for the kettle to finish boiling. His stomach lurched so harshly that he almost turned towards the sink, expecting the return of the blood he’d drank for breakfast. Instead, he swallowed, closed his eyes, and breathed in slowly through his nose. He was overexerted, probably. He’d been pushing himself during his and Shayne’s ritualistic “sparring” (or, as Shayne called it, “trying to kick the shit out of each other” or “therapy”) session. Elliott had hoped his supernatural abilities would have begun to manifest by now, seeing as his transition to full vampire was complete. But still, nothing yet. Maybe the stress of Felix being gone was stunting his development. Maybe the stress was adding to how bad he felt.

The kettle clicked, reminding him of why he was standing in the kitchen in the first place. Elliott’s heart sank as he recalled Shayne’s eyes rolling back in his head, his body almost hitting the ground before Elliott could catch him. Turned out the kid had been starving himself again. Elliott would have punched his lights out if they hadn’t already basically been out.

A minute later, Elliott picked up a hot mug and crossed the open-plan kitchen and living area to where he’d left Shayne on the white sofa. He was conscious now, at least, but his eyes were glazed and unfocused.

The mug contained hot, weak tea and a few spoons of the glucose solution Ryan had concocted for Felix’s blood-and-sugar lollipops. Back in the day, when Felix refused blood and couldn’t hold food down, Ryan had fed him the solution like this, and it had kept him from passing out. The smell was so strong that Elliott almost gagged, his body so delicate as to protest merely being in the presence of human sustenance.

Elliott tried to hand Shayne the mug, but his cousin’s hands were so shaky he almost dropped it immediately. Elliott took it back, trying to ignore the fact that his own hands weren’t exactly the steadiest. He brought the rim of the mug to Shayne’s lips.

Shayne made a face and pulled away as soon as he took the first sip. His hand went to his mouth, like he was considering spitting it back out.

“Swallow it.”

A shiver seemed to roll through Shayne’s body as he did. His eyes watered like he was about to cry. “That tastes like shit, El.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what you get for forgetting that you need to eat.”

“I didn’t forget I needed to…” Shayne mumbled. “I’m not stupid.”

“That’s extremely debatable. Drink.”

“I’m gonna be sick.”

“Drink,” Elliott said again, as calmly as he could, “or I’m going to get Ryan.”

The last of the fight went out of Shayne’s eyes. Elliott knew he didn’t want Ryan or Nancy to know things had gotten this bad again.

Victorious but not feeling it, Elliott brought the mug to Shayne’s lips again and again, letting him take small sips. At one point, he covered his mouth again, shoulders jerking forward as he gagged slightly. Elliott’s stomach flipped at the sound and he had to turn his face away until Shayne stopped. He didn’t usually puke from seeing somebody else do it, but he had a bad feeling that if Shayne threw up, he would lose it too.

Shayne shook his head when presented with the mug again. A tentative hand rested on his stomach. “I can’t, El. It’s so heavy.”

Part of Elliott didn’t want to yield so easily, wanted to make him finish the mug. He wondered what Felix would do, or how Charlie would have reacted to that pleading look. Elliott knew he wasn’t soft in the same way they were. He just hoped he wasn’t harsh.

He hoped he wasn’t frightening.

He swallowed against a swell of nausea in his belly. Whatever was gnawing at the pit of his stomach weakened his resolve.

“Okay,” he said, “lie down.”

Shayne gave a small sigh of relief.

Elliott took the mug back to the sink. White floor and wall tiles swayed all around him like he was inside the world’s most colourless kaleidoscope. He slowly breathed in through his nose, leaning on the edge of the countertop to try and introduce some form of balance to his body.

He’d extended the offer to Shayne, but honestly, lying down sounded like an absolute dream to Elliott, too. Maybe his body would stop freaking out if he got a little more rest. His sleeping pattern was completely thrown off, his mind raced in the middle of the night. Felix had star-fished across about forty different mattresses before choosing theirs, and while Elliott had acted like he didn’t care which one they bought, he had ended up agreeing that it was the best mattress he’d ever used. But sleeping there without Felix felt wrong, so his body had been rejecting it as much as physically possible.

Nowadays, he might as well have been sleeping in a wooden coffin like the stereotype dictated.

He turned around to check on Shayne, frowning when he saw that he was still sitting upright on the sofa.

“I thought you were going to try and sleep?”

“I can’t – I can’t,” Shayne whispered, lowering his head into his hands. “El, I – every time I try, I feel like she’s here. Breathing on the back of my neck…”

Guilt churned Elliott’s stomach this time. Elliott felt regrets like cobwebs sticking to his soul, and although he didn’t allow himself many, one of those cobwebs was the feeling that maybe he could have gotten Shayne out of Madelyn’s sooner.

“She’s not getting in here,” Elliott promised. “Ryan will have her head on a stick before letting that happen. Nancy will turn her blood into tar.”

“She doesn’t have to be here, El. She’s already here.” Shayne pressed a finger to either side of his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Jesus, I’m – I’m sorry, man.” Elliott laid a hand on his stomach, stifling a belch since he really didn’t need gas leaving his body to make this moment even more stressful. “What usually helps when this happens?”

As Elliot should have expected, Shayne gave a lifeless shrug. Alright, think, Elliott told himself, swallowing thickly. He’d never seen Shayne warm up to anyone until that day in the park when he’d been clinging to Charlie like his life depended on it. He liked to act tough (and who did he pick that up from, I wonder?), but really, Shayne just didn’t want to be alone.

He’d be lying if he said he couldn’t understand that feeling.

Elliott swallowed again, fighting the lump in his throat and the swirling in the pit of his stomach.

“Want me to sit with you?”

Shayne opened his eyes, looking genuinely surprised.

Elliott sank down on the sofa without waiting for a verbal answer. He hit the cushions a little too quickly for his stomach’s liking. It shifted noisily, semi-digested contents swimming around inside. “Now, if you think you can feel someone breathing on you, you can tell yourself it’s just me.”

“Ugh,” Shayne groaned, curling up on his side so that the top of his head was just next to – scarcely touching – Elliott’s thigh. “Do not breathe on me, man.”

Elliott smiled through his vaguely-concealed discomfort, glad that Shayne wasn’t facing him. “Afraid you’ll catch vampire cooties?”

Shayne didn’t respond beyond a soft groan that Elliott interpreted as “shut the fuck up, old man”. So even though he’d have loved to keep taunting his cousin and keep himself distracted, Elliott shut up, letting his neck rest against the back of the sofa and draping one arm up over his eyes. Lack of vision made the world feel a little less like the spinning drum of a washing machine. Elliott regretted dreaming up that metaphor, gritting his teeth as he realised his stomach felt like such a drum, too.

He was swallowing constantly, every few seconds now, chest tight with the effort of drawing slow, shallow breaths. It felt like the fibres holding his being together were frayed and left just shaky enough to throw everything off without causing him any actual, physical pain. Beneath it all was a tiny flame of anger; what the hell was the point in becoming a vampire if feeling unexplainably shitty at inconvenient intervals was still on the table?

An icy shiver ran down Elliott’s back, and he flinched where he sat. He slid his hand around the back of his neck and gulped another wave of saliva. Nothing was there, yet when he exhaled, he shuddered again. Shayne’s talk about Madelyn must have wormed its way into Elliott’s mind. Lord, he really was a mess.

He glanced down to make sure his sudden jump hadn’t disturbed Shayne. It was hard to tell if the boy was sleeping or just trying very hard to stay still. At least he didn’t seem to be panicked or shaking anymore. Elliott desperately wanted to stand up and walk around; moving and distracting himself would surely ease the building pain in his stomach, but he didn’t think he could get up without jostling Shayne.

Sucking in a breath and trying to brace his stomach for the move, Elliott shifted his weight on the sofa, cringing at how much the cushions flexed with him. He watched Shayne’s head, his breath still caught somewhere between his belly and his lungs. Another trickle of unpleasantly cool sweat ran down the back of his neck and his hands shook until he dropped the weight of his head into them. His elbows felt unbalanced on his knees. His stomach flipped, and he swallowed measuredly against its protests.

“El?”

“Yeah,” Elliott choked out, though he’d meant to give a friendly, open yeah? As in Felix’s chirpy Yeah, buddy? Are you okay? What can I do for you?

“Y’alright?” was all Shayne replied with.

“I’m good, yeah.” Upon tasting blood and bile, Elliott gulped again. “Just relax, okay? No one’s going to –”

Elliott jammed a fist against his lips in time to stifle a wet, shallow belch. The sound was so sudden and violent that his head shot forward, almost ducking between his own knees.

“Fuck,” Shayne gasped, scrambling upright despite the fact his eyes were barely open. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Elliott half-snapped, annoyance at himself manifesting as annoyance at Shayne. “I may have pushed myself a bit this morning, but I’m –”

He was once again cut off by a belch, this one rumbling up from much deeper inside him. His belly continued bubbling even after the air stopped being pushed up.

“El, I think you need to –”

“Don’t.” Elliott shook his head.

“Why did –” Shayne winced slightly and rubbed at his head. “Why didn’t you say you were feeling sick?”

“Because I was trying to look after you!” Elliott sighed into his hands. The tiny burst of frustration was dizzying on top of everything else. “Lord fucking knows you can’t take care of yourself.”

“Fuck you,” Shayne said back, though his voice was empty of any of its usual fight. “I’m – I’m trying, I’ve been trying… Elliott, just go to the sink!”

Elliott’s shoulders rolled as he covered his mouth with his palm, feeling a thick film grow over his tongue. He was tempted to swallow it down again but a cramp ripped through his gut, making all of his organs squeeze in defiance of him swallowing anything.

“Shit,” he somehow mumbled, sitting forward and pushing himself to his feet as Shayne pushed – weakly but with good intentions – at his back to help him up. Elliott sprinted across the kitchen tiles and flung himself at the sink, stars in his vision and blood in his mouth. He was unbearably dizzy as he heaved up what he’d drank that morning. At least it had been an animal-blood day, and he wasn’t watching mouthfuls of human blood pooling in the sink and trickling into the drain.

It was a waste, but it could have been worse. He choked on a sob, realising he’d never thought like this until Felix.

“Fuck,” Elliott gasped when something moved next to him. He hadn’t even noticed Shayne following him to the sink. “Christ. I feel awful… Why – why do I feel this bad?”

“You’re trying to force something you’re not capable of.” Shayne folded his arms and rested them on the countertop, eyes falling shut again.

Elliott spat bitterly towards the drain. “How the fuck do you figure that?”

“Because that’s my whole life summed up, El.”

Elliott gripped the neck of the tap and turned it on, directing the water around the sink to get rid of the mess he’d made. His head was spinning and his nerves still felt alive with electricity and just wrong in general, but his belly felt a lot better. He felt like he could breathe normally again.

“You okay?”

“I think so.” Elliott rinsed his mouth, running tap water into his palm and lifting it to his lips. It was cool, and soothing on his throat after the retching.

Shayne looked positively miserable as their eyes met. “What now?”

As he shut off the tap, Elliott brushed a wet hand across the back of his own neck, relishing the cold drip that started trailing down his back. He shut his eyes, feeling like he was ready to drift off to sleep on his feet, like a horse.

“Well,” he said, “how would you like to take a nap on a really nice mattress?”

33 notes · View notes

honeymoonjin · 4 years

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: sexually explicit content, oral (f receiving), public sex, filmed sex, watching porn w the bros, fingering, jk being a little shit, voyeurism, mxm, dom!jk but also sub!jk because we love the duality, orgasm control, handjob, camming : )

also please be aware, further down there is a link to a 4 second clip from twitter that inspired one of the scenes. that’s what the link is, it’s not hugely graphic but please use your discretion.

DAY TWO

It’s almost midday by the time you wake up. From outside your bedroom, the faint echoes of conversation remind you of just where you’d gone to sleep the night before. Of what you’d done the night before.

You dress quickly in some jean shorts and a loose shirt, wincing at the slight twinge between your legs, a welcome ache for what pleasure it had brought you. In the hallway upstairs, the collective hum of conversation is clearer, and you follow it down the stairs and to the kitchen, where six of the seven men are sharing breakfast at the dining table together, two waiting places still remaining.

You take the seat between Jungkook and Yoongi when the younger man greets you first, eyes wide as he pats the space. The other men glance up, conversations drifting off to greet you good morning.

The seat directly across from you is empty, Taehyung and Jimin at the chairs adjacent while Hoseok and Namjoon take the heads of the table. “Where’s Jin?” you ask in surprise.

“Jin?” Hoseok questions with a salacious smile. “Judging by the noises Jimin heard last night, you were the one who saw him last."

Your cheeks heat, and though you want to curl up in embarrassment, you can't help your eyes from automatically darting over to Jimin.

In a loose silk shirt the same gunmetal silver as the cutlery, Jimin's blue hair stands out even more than usual, as well as the smokey eyeshadow that frames his intense stare.

"I'm sorry," you say awkwardly. "I- Well, I guess that'll probably be a regular occurrence one way or another."

"Keeping me up at night with your shameless moaning?" he questions with a raised brow.

Out of everyone at the table staring at you, it's his gaze which burns at your cheeks the most, making you drop his gaze, eyes down on the empty plate in front of you. "I meant more, um, having sex in general, since that's the point of the show. But... sorry."

"Just try and be quieter next time," Jungkook suggests cheerily from beside you. The other members laugh, resuming their conversations or going back for more breakfast, but Jungkook's attention lingers on you for a moment longer, before he stands up abruptly.

"Jungkookie, where are you going?" Taehyung calls out, twisting in his chair to watch as Jungkook steps into the kitchen, disappearing through the open door of the walk-in pantry. Jungkook doesn't answer, but the rummaging sounds of plastic give his purpose away.

"Wow," Yoongi drawls with an unimpressed frown, "I prepare all this food for you and he still needs to go fossicking for more."

The attention sufficiently off you, you lean in to Yoongi's side. "I'm just going to grab a drink from the kitchen, do you want anything?"

Yoongi shakes his head distractedly, more focused on buttering every last edge of the toast in his hand. Getting up, you let the blood finally leave your cheeks and your heart rate slow down. No point worrying about something you couldn't really help.

In the kitchen, you can see easily across to the dining table, Taehyung's and Jimin's backs to you as you look through the refrigerator for something to drink.

The options are decently impressive, and you stare indecisively that the fridge beeps at you for being left open too long. Settling on some milk to make coffee, you turn and almost drop the carton at what greets you.

Crouched below the kitchen island innocuously, out of view of the boys, is Jungkook, grinning toothily at you, with a finger to his mouth in the universal 'be quiet' signal.

Your eyes widen, but as you look out across the bench to the dining room, nobody has noticed. Biting your lip, you grab a mug, turn the electric jug on and slowly walk over to where he is, standing so that his bent knees brush your shins.

Though nobody is paying you a lick of attention, you pretend to drop a spoon onto the ground before dropping below the level of the bench yourself, face-to-face with Jungkook.

"What are you doing?" you hiss quietly, the sound barely louder than your lips moving.

"You have to practice being quiet," he says cheekily. "So let me eat you out while you make some coffee."

"You're crazy," you whisper, but your eyes are entranced by the tip of his tongue as he licks his lips. "Fuck, okay."

Ignoring his shiteating grin of victory, you grab the teaspoon and stand up again, reaching for the jar of coffee crystals. A minute sigh leaves your mouth when nimble fingers run up your thigh, over your shorts and begin fiddling with the button. Fuck, were you really doing this?

"Y/n?"

Your eyes dart up, fearing you've been caught, but Hoseok is smiling at you unawares, pointing at the jar in your hands.

"Could you make me a cup too? I can come get it-"

"No," you blurt, swallowing as Jungkook's hands don't falter, reaching around to grasp at the meat of your ass from inside your shorts. "I'm already up, I don't mind."

You inhale through your nose as Jungkook flicks the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh, voice a low murmur that only you can hear. "Selfish girl, ask if the others want a coffee too," he instructs.

Your head feels funny, a combination of dizzy and hyper-focused. "Does anyone else want a cup too? It's just the instant stuff."

You get a few moments break from Jungkook's roaming hands for the time it takes you to go fetch three more mugs, Namjoon and Yoongi also wanting a drink. The second you step back to the kitchen island, however, it's like the boy is making up for lost time.

Without hesitation he's undoing the button and the zip, pulling your shorts and panties down to your knees, a hand pushing your leg open wider so it doesn't drop to the floor.

Fully bared, you bite down harshly on your tongue, shaky fingers undoing the top of the jar as a hot mouth descends upon you, devouring you like it's his last meal.

Jungkook is good with his tongue, but he's merciless, not holding back even as he has to grip onto your knees to stop them from buckling.

You feel unbelievably exposed, and with the casual stream of conversation continuing on just a few metres away, every touch feels electrified. Out of all the guys, Jungkook's hair is the longest, and you can feel it tickling your thighs and lower abdomen, a strong arm wrapping around to hold you close to him.

Though it's definitely far too quiet for the others to hear, the faintest sound of slurping feels like thunder in your ears, and as he sucks at your folds, tongue driving in deep inside you like he's licking the inside of a wrapper, you press your lips together to hold back a moan.

Getting spoonfuls of ground coffee into each of the four mugs is a game of its own when long, narrow fingers find their way inside you, three at once slipping in your pussy, still stretched out from last night.

Clearly knowing thrusting them would be too loud, Jungkook instead just crooks them inside you, dragging them over your g-spot like he's coaxing an orgasm out of you.

You focus on your task, letting the challenge of not spilling the dark powder anchor you, but all too soon the sound of the electric kettle reaching boiling point fills the room, and you know that once you reach over and pour the drinks, there's really no other reason for you to be standing at the bench, and you couldn't exactly go back with your shorts around your ankles and Jungkook lapping up your juices enthusiastically.

The ding of the kettle gets the attention of those wanting coffee, and you send them a weak smile as you reach for it, holding the handle with one hand and each mug with the other, relaxing in relief as Jungkook pauses his assault while you're handling the boiling water.

Once the jug goes back in its place, you begin to stir the drinks as slow as you can possibly manage, Jungkook returning his ministrations with a vengeance, sucking harshly at your clit and slipping a fourth finger into you, still curling his fingers in a beckoning motion, stretching at your walls deliciously and rubbing over your g-spot every time.

You're breathing heavily, you know you are, but you tell yourself that it least it isn't moaning out loud.

Still waiting, Hoseok glances up. "Y/n, are you okay?" You nod hastily, a clipped moan escaping in place of a yes, but he's not convinced. "You can't carry all four mugs by yourself, I'll come take two."

"N-no," you defend lowly, cursing internally as your orgasm approaches even faster with eyes on you, the arousal of danger running through your veins like liquid sex.

Hoseok doesn't listen, getting up and jogging over. Behind him, the other boys are starting to get concerned too, frowning at the way you gasp for breath, eyes lidded.

"Shoot, Y/n, are you alright?" Namjoon asks, voice strained with worry. "You look like you're about to pass out."

Your head feels blurry as the realisation hits you: you're going to orgasm in front of them all, while they're waiting for their morning coffee.

As Hoseok approaches, he reaches out for the mugs, but his hands freeze halfway. The bench is only around the level of your waist, so there's no doubt in his mind that at this distance he can see Jungkook's head between your legs.

Rather than looking at Hoseok's face, you make the mistake of glancing down, and it's the obscene sight of Jungkook's head of black locks bobbing between your legs that sends you over the edge.

"What is she- Y/n?"

Your knees buckle but Jungkook keeps you steady, so you lean forward instead, covering your face with your hands as a powerful orgasm rocks through you, the moans impossible to hold back as Jungkook gives up on being quiet, fucking you through the orgasm with his fingers and tongue.

"How good is that coffee?"

"It's not the coffee, Tae."

"...Oh."

Once the white behind your eyelids settle, you let out a weak embarrassed moan, hearing the self-satisfied chuckle of Jungkook beneath you, licking you clean and lifting your shorts and panties, dressing you like nothing had ever happened.

Though of course, every single person in the room just watched you have an orgasm in the kitchen, and there was no pretending like nothing had happened.

Ignoring the loud buzz of confusion at the table, and the awkward cough of Hoseok as he took three mugs to the table, you bat away Jungkook's hands and sink down, sitting on the floor with your back to the island bench, face in your hands still.

"I can't fucking believe you did that," you pant out morosely, your pussy still clenching rhythmically with aftershocks of pleasure.

Jungkook licks his lips like the cat that got the cream. "You loved it," he retorts. "Did you think I wouldn't notice that you came the moment Hoseok noticed what was going on?"

"Fuck you."

"You didn't even have to," he chimes cheerily, standing up and going to join the others shamelessly.

You take a few more moments to compose yourself, letting Jungkook take most of the heat. Once the jibes begin to settle and your legs don't feel so wobbly, you stand up again and grab the remaining cup of coffee, taking a sip and making your way back to the table with flushed cheeks.

"So, we're just gonna pretend like that didn't happen?" Taehyung asks in bewilderment.

"I would prefer if you did, yes," you answer calmly, reaching out for a slice of cold toast.

He blinks. "Okay."

For a few blissful moments, the seven of you return to your normal conversations, Jungkook resting a smug hand on your thigh as he chats away happily.

"Morning!" a sing-song voice calls out, and you all glance up to see Seokjin arriving, broad grin on his face.

After a moment, Taehyung lets out a yawn and the spell is broken, everyone going back to what they were doing before.

Visibly disappointed, Seokjin's shoulders sink. "Morning," he repeats again insistently. "Is no one gonna ask how I slept? Or what I did last night? Seriously?"

"That's old news, hyung," Taehyung explains matter-of-factly.

"How can it be old news already? I only just got up."

"And you missed a lot," Jungkook replies. "Besides, hyung, I'm worried about your diet. It tastes like you aren't eating enough leafy greens."

In the chaos that ensues, you couldn't tell who goes redder - you, or Seokjin.

----

“It’s kinda strange now that I’m here,” Hoseok comments. “I’m so used to being go-go all the time with work, and chores, and hobbies, and now it’s just...waiting around for food and sex.”

Taehyung chuckles, head resting back against the couch as he sits cross-legged on the lush carpet. “I’m not mad about it.”

After you had gone up to have a shower and reclaim a bit of your dignity, the group had dissipated. Jimin had apparently left to “take some business calls,” Jungkook had decided to break in the indoor gym (you could all hear the odd grunt and clang of equipment from the lounge area), and Namjoon had recently announced he was going outside for a walk around the backyard. The others had initially suspected he was making excuses for going to the Confessional Booth, but Jin had snuck out to the outdoor dining area and reported back that the younger man was “walking around with his hands in his pockets like a nerdy cryptid.”

Now, the remaining five of you chill on the couches, chatting away as Yoongi scrolls aimlessly through Netflix. You share a couch with him, Yoongi with his legs crossed and the remote resting on his knee, you spread out in the space between, toes almost touching his thigh. Across from you, Hoseok and Jin have chosen to both stretch out, Hoseok leaning back against Jin, with the older man’s legs on either side. Occasionally one of them will reach down to pat Taehyung’s head or rub his shoulder, Tae responding with a hum or grunt of approval.

It was strange how some individuals in the house had gotten closer faster than others. You knew Namjoon was still struggling with feeling like he wasn’t on par with the others, and Jimin clearly felt most comfortable with a strict boundary line that he maintained on his own terms, but on the other side of things, Hoseok and Jin were finding comfort in the casual skinship. You can’t help but wonder how things might progress as the game goes on.

“There’s nothing,” Yoongi announces with a frown. “Let’s find something else.”

“What else?” Hoseok asks, pouting glumly. “If I’m honest, I don’t even watch most movies and TV shows these days. When I watch something, it’s usually just porn to get inspiration for scenes.”

Taehyung sits up abruptly, dislodging Jin’s hand from lazily stroking his hair. “Then let’s watch porn.”

Yoongi scoffs out a laugh, before realizing Taehyung is serious. "What; looking for some inspiration yourself?"

The younger boy ignores the jibe, getting up off the floor to steal the remote, going to the internet browser on the SmartTV function.

Jin lets out a laugh hearty enough to jostle Hoseok as he watches Taehyung type each key painstakingly.

bb|

bba|

ba|

bag|

ba-

ban|

"Is the porn meant to be you edging us?" the eldest retorts.

"Shut up, hyung," Tae answers without looking away from the television, finally clicking the button to load the site.

bangasm.com

"Ah, you reckon we'd get sued if we used some other porn website instead?" Jin jokes. "Afraid of getting kicked off the show for jacking off to PornHub?"

"Shut up, hyung," Taehyung repeats insistently, navigating to the search bar of the familiar site. He types more carefully this time, brow furrowed and lip pinched between his teeth in focus. "He goes live on a different site, but cross-uploads all his videos here too."

gu|

gukk|

gukke|

gukked|

gukked97. ENTER.

"Taehyung..." Yoongi starts slowly, uncrossing his legs to lean forward. "We shouldn't be watching his stuff without him here."

Once the page loads, and Taehyung clicks on the first result, your breath catches.

Earlier that morning, when Jungkook had gone down on you in the kitchen, he'd still been fully dressed, and so far he'd been wearing exclusively sweatpants and hoodies in the house.

Here, though, he's bared to you in 1080p quality, countless thumbnails of him filling the page in rows and rows, each one a week apart.

In most, he has a hand around his cock, usually leaning back on his bed with his head tipped back in pleasure. His cock appears a bit smaller than Jin's, but it fits in his hand so beautifully, arching in a gentle curve so that the head taps at his lower abdomen, which is defined in hard lines, revealing the muscular body of a gym bunny. Considering it was only the second day and he was already working out, it seemed his physical condition was important to him.

The thought of you all sitting and stalking his account while he's in the room down the hall, unawares, has you biting your lip in guilt, but as Taehyung keeps scrolling, seemingly searching for something specific, you can't help but glue your eyes to the TV.

While most of the thumbnails are him jerking off, in various states of desperation, if you watch carefully you can catch flashes of colour.

Jungkook with bright spots of red wax over his chest, a second figure visible only as a torso beside his lying body. Jungkook in a bathroom, filmed in the shower as he holds the detachable head to his cock. Jungkook in pink thigh-high stockings, holding his cock in sweater paws. Jungkook bending a girl over a table, holding her green scarf like it's a leash and thrusting into her.

Seeing him in so many different scenarios has your mouth watering, and you shift in your seat minutely, hoping nobody notices the attempt to receive some friction.

The other protests have died down, too, and you watch Hoseok sit up suddenly, turning to give Jin's crotch a bewildered look, before tucking his own legs up and folding his arms across his lap.

Beside you, Yoongi's eyes are dark, mouth slightly parted and lips shiny from where he'd licked at them.

"Let me just find my favorite," Taehyung says to break the silence, clearly the most unaffected of you. The dates change, going back to earlier vids, until he lands on a video, dated 30 December 2018. "Picture this: I'd been a shitty mood all day. It was my birthday, but I'd been stuck at the mall all day because my grandma wanted to buy a cell phone and she-"

"How is this at all relevant?" Yoongi interrupts impatiently.

Jin snickers. "You just want him to hurry up and play the video, don't you?"

"So what if I do?" Yoongi complains mulishly.

You look back over at the TV, partially covered by Taehyung's frame. The thumbnail, selected with a yellow frame, seems relatively innocuous at first, the side profile of Jungkook on a couch, what looks like a gaming controller in his hands. The title of the video is pretty tame too, ‘ready player one ;)’, but that’s when you notice the hand on his thigh, coming from behind the camera.

Taehyung clicks on the video, settling back onto the floor in front of Jin and Hoseok as he waits for it to load, scrolling through almost twenty minutes of Jungkook chatting to the camera, eyes darting down to read comments, looking entirely at-home. It’s clear to you that the camera is hand-held, and every now and again Jungkook looks up past the lens, listening to something the person holding the camera is saying.

“The point is,” the younger man explains as he fast-forwards, “Jungkook uploaded this on my birthday and the guy sou- oh, here we go - sounds like me.”

There’s a weird energy in the room once Taehyung resumes playing the video. It seems wrong to have it playing out loud on the television, like you were breaking some taboo, but at the same time, nobody wanted to protest. In the video, Jungkook’s wearing a baggy white t-shirt and some loose black shorts, something that clearly he was most comfortable in judging by what you’d seen him in the past few days. If you strain, you can still hear him working out down the hall, and everything feels a little too real, the memory of him between your thighs making you shiver.

Taehyung’s skipped a long way into the stream, the wide palm of the cameraman having slid up from Jungkook’s thigh to be palming his crotch directly, and his voice comes as a low murmur into the room, the volume on the television turned down.

“...for me? Keep playing your game, baby boy, you only get to cum once you win.” Taehyung is right; the voice is starkly similar to his, that same musical resonance in a deep timbre. You think Taehyung’s is nicer; still, the idea of Taehyung being behind that camera is affecting you just as much as it’s affecting the rest of the men in the room.

Everyone’s gone deadly silent, Yoongi making no barbed remarks, Jin without a quip. It’s clear from the way Jungkook writhes that the man is pressing him with a decent amount of force, but his strangled moans prove he’s loving it, hands wavering as they smash at the buttons, the noise from the video game sounding even more faint.

The man behind the camera doesn’t seem too interested in playing fair. Just as Jungkook bites down hard on his lip, panting but managing to focus, the tanned hand slips under the waistband of his shorts, not pulling his cock out but rather jerking him from beneath the fabric, making the boy shudder, a broken moan louder than any sound before.

As you watch, you have the urge to press a hand to yourself, wanting to relieve some friction, but instead you just clench hard, rubbing your thighs together. Yoongi glances over when you move, his pink lips parted, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat like he’s parched. It shocks you to see him so affected by the video, eyes hazed over with lust and fingers clutching at the fabric of the couch. On the opposite side, the other three men are in similar predicaments, Hoseok looking calm but clearly aroused, Jin bright red as he palms himself almost unconsciously, and Taehyung with a dreamy smile on his face, breaths shallow.

The Jungkook on screen lets out a frustrated whine when he loses the game, letting the controller hang limply on his thighs. His head lolls to the side, making eye contact with the recorder before lowering his gaze to stare pleadingly down the lens, and you hear Yoongi hiss a breath in the moment their gazes connect through the screen, Jungkook staring out into the audience with blown irises and bottom lip red from being bitten.

“You lost again, hm?” the voice calls out, dripping with mock sympathy. Jungkook swallows and nods, hips shifting against the hand that’s now stilled between his legs. A chuckle echoes from behind the camera. “Your viewers are telling me they want to see you cum, baby boy. Play one more round. Don’t disappoint us.”

Jungkook whines, but obediently sets up another game, sitting up and furrowing his brow to focus. Slipping out of Jungkook’s shorts, the hand instead pushes down the elastic waistband, freeing his cock. Jungkook sighs throatily at the open air on his length, a glossy bead of precum running down the side, collected by a single finger.

“Should I go easy on him, guys?” The voice pauses for a minute, trailing a single fingertip up and down the underside of Jungkook’s cock as the boy pants and tries to stay focused on the game. A bemused hum comes from behind the camera. “It’s your lucky day, baby boy. Taebybaby says you should get to cum because it’s his birthday today.”

Taehyung’s face splits in a boxy grin, eyes crinkling as he jabs a finger towards the television, where the on-screen Jungkook sighs in relief, wishing the user a happy birthday. “That’s me!” he calls out, turning around to stare accusingly at Yoongi. “See? The background context was important.”

On the television, Jungkook’s given up on the game, controller tossed to the side and head thrown back as the hand wraps around him, using the slick of his precum to jerk him off rapidly, clearly wanting to draw a quick orgasm out of the boy.

It’s pure sin, the way his thighs tense and the sliver of stomach where his shirt has ridden up flexes, hips jerking and moans pouring out of him in a constant, wanton stream.

“Are you serious?” Jungkook says calmly, and you frown, before realising it’s not the Jungkook on the screen that’s spoken.

Whirling around, you see the real Jungkook leaning against the doorway, shirt clinging with sweat and a towel slung over his shoulders. “My own viewing party and I wasn’t invited.”

“I’m so sorry,” Taehyung gushes with wide eyes, wincing as the volume from the TV increases, the toned body jerking as streaks of cum are milked from his cock, running down the hand of the cameraman. Taehyung fumbles for the remote as the on-screen Jungkook cries in pleasure, turning the TV off completely with shaky hands. “We weren’t- It just- We were just watching,” Taehyung finishes. “I’m sorry.”

Jungkook holds a hard stare for a few agonising moments, before breaking into a hearty chuckle. “Hey, I put them on the internet for everyone to see, people watching is the whole point. I hope you all enjoyed the show.” He grimaces. “That was such an old one though. Scoot over, Y/n; I’ll find you all a good one.”

You choke on air with the mention of your name, still feeling like you’d been caught red-handed. Or, red-cheeked rather. You blush violently as you stand up on shaky legs. There’s no way, if he played another video, that you would be able to resist the urge to slip a hand down your shorts, and you’d gotten off in public enough for one day. “I, uh, need to go water my plants,” you stammer, “I almost forgot. Y-You guys go ahead.”

Not wanting to wait for Jungkook’s reaction, you rush past him, feeling his hands attempting to hold you for a moment, before giving up when you don’t stop.

So flustered from the situation you’d just run from, you stumble up the stairs blindly, not noticing the figure that opens his door at the same time, watching in curiosity as you rush into your bedroom and slam your door shut, collapsing on your bed with a groan.

----

“Where have you been all day?” you ask conversationally as Namjoon takes a seat next to you with his bowl of fried rice.

“Out and about,” he answers loftily, avoiding your gaze. The two of you are sitting in the private, unfilmed lounge across the stairs. It’s strange; you’ve only been here two days but the constant presence of cameras has become so easy to grow accustomed to that in this room, it feels weirdly empty and stagnant. Still, there’s a relief in feeling like you have a break from being watched.

“Out and about,” you repeat, unconvinced, “you know we aren’t allowed to leave the property, right?”

Namjoon smiles down at his food. “The gardens are really gorgeous. I went to explore for a bit and ended up staying outside to soak up the sun and the nature.”

You bite your lip. He’d been the one that had suggested the two of you go eat in this room. “Struggling with the cameras, still?”

He looks up, finally, eyes crinkled with a rueful smile. “I guess I still feel a little silly to be here. I know my whole thing is that I’m inexperienced, but… Really feels like I’m doomed to fail here.”

You put your spoon down slowly. “Namjoon… Experience isn’t the only thing that matters, you know? I’m not gonna vote you out immediately just because you can’t, I don’t know, fuck me while doing a cartwheel or some shit like that. I said the other night that all of you as people are important too. Don’t distance yourself just because you’re worried about going home.”

He nods slowly, though he doesn’t seem entirely comforted. “I still only have a one-in-seven chance of winning this thing.”

“So do the rest of them,” you point out, gesturing back the way you came. “And if you like to run the numbers, you have a higher chance of staying than being sent home every week except the last.” You push your food aside, scooting around to sit beside Namjoon instead of across from him. “Honestly, Namjoon. I’m saying this away from all the cameras so you know I really mean it, but if you wanna stay, give me a chance to get to know you. Stick around.”

His chin protrudes as he tenses his jaw, deep in thought. “Y/n… Can I do something honestly too? Away from the cameras so you know I really mean it?”

“Of course,” you reply automatically, eyes widening when a broad palm comes out to hold onto yours.

Without another word, Namjoon just leans closer, the feeling of his breath on your face preceding the soft press of his lips on yours.

Namjoon kisses much like he acts; tentative, uncertain, and a little clumsily, but endearingly so. You find yourself entranced in the reverential way he does it, a series of tiny butterfly touches instead of the deep sensual frenching you’d been exposed to in the past. It’s chaste but meaningful, and when he draws back, his cheeks are pinker than his lips, coughing lightly in embarrassment.

“Namjoon,” you whisper into the quiet of the room, no words coming to mind except his name.

“I’m sorry,” he says with a laugh. “You probably think it’s stupid. Of course the virgin would get a crush on the girl first.”

“A crush?” you question. “Namjoon, we’ve known each other for two days.”

You meant to be lightly jesting, but his face crumples, laughing again in self-deprecation. “It’s stupid,” he repeats, clearing his bowl off the table and standing up. “Sorry, just- ignore I said that.”

“Namjoon, that wasn’t what I-”

You’re interrupted by the solid finality of the door slamming shut behind him.

TAGLIST

I’m going to try and put excess tags in the comments, hopefully this works better than last time! Please comment on this post if you wish to be added.

(can u pls tell me if this worked if you were in the comments and if it worked if you were in the main post, i’m trying my best to work out how many tags i can actually put where! there are over 150 of you already so it’s a little tricky)

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#ficswithluv #the gentlemen #bangtanarmynet #bangtanhq #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #magicshopnet #smutcentralnet #ksmutclub #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts x reader

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alienitz · 3 years

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//posting this on instagram as i usually do would make me look like an attention whore so i'm just gonna write everything here bc i know no one's ever gonna read it - looks like i'm being overdramatic and complaining for nothing but i've been keeping this for myself for too long\\ + /!\tw: mentions of self-harm and suicide/!\

it's 12am and i've been crying for a few hours and every new thought i have, every single thing i look at makes me cry some more. i know i've been feeling down for years and even worse this year and a literal hell since i moved here alone, but the last few days have been the worst so far. i don't even know where to start, this life is just a fucking mess and i can't keep that weight on my shoulders anymore. it feels like i'm wandering alone as i've always been and whenever i hit rock bottom it somehow gets worse. whatever makes me happy one day is gonna destroy me the next one.

every time i get a call from my family or even when they visit, i tell them that everything's fine, the neighborhood is not so bad, school is really great and i'm making friends. friends, i tell them i'm good, not at my best but not at my worst either, no i don't own a cat but these little cuts are nothing to worry about and no worries because i can handle it. when really i've been walking around in this damn apartment for a week now and it made me lose it. i haven't eaten anything since last week (not a real meal at least, just some dumb stuff here and there), i cry myself to sleep every night, i listen to the same triggering songs on repeat, i go crazy and hide myself whenever someone's yelling in my street because it scares me, i lay in bed all day and night doing nothing and blankly staring at the ceiling, it makes me realize how i don't really have anyone by my side, someone that knows and that can act on it, no one to ease my pain as it's no one's role. also i've been sick for a few days now so i couldn't even get out of bed, i'm completely dehydrated from the crying and sweating because my body really shouldn't be reaching such a high temperature, my throat is burning, i'm starving but it just makes me feel very nauseous so i won't eat, and i woke up 4 times last night, i had hallucinations on the 4th time. when i finally got up i could barely walk and i found myself wondering where i was, i was feeling high and lost, i nearly fell in the hallway while being dizzy and trying to figure things out. i also noticed that no one's talked to me in days, except the few people i texted first and it certainly isn't helping me.

i usually spend most of my days daydreaming to escape reality but a week ago it changed and my mind's been busy with something else. i haven't been able to daydream since and i'm just forced to face my thoughts and the reality around me. so today after sitting and crying on my desk for a few hours, i just lost it, felt the need to yell and destroy everything, smash the furniture, burn the drawings, break every single object i own and used to enjoy. i didn't do any of this, but i wish i did. i'm usually dissociated from reality and now that i'm faced with it, it just makes no sense and it's driving me crazy. i thought about getting drunk, or taking too many pills, or cut some more, whatever. and then i burst into tears again and fell on my bed as i realized that it would take days, even weeks, before someone notices that i'm missing. they couldn't care less, everyone's busy with their own issues as it should be.

i keep telling myself that we all deal with some really fucked up shit, but i'm the weak one that just can't manage. the others are not breaking down like this, driving themselves crazy, or maybe they are but i can't see it. and i'm just a mess, i can't handle this. i hate this place, i'm scared of this creepy neighborhood, i'm failing all my classes, i'm not able to take care of myself - never been -, i've got no one to tell this to so i'm writing it on this dumb website and it's gonna be lost forever, i never had anyone by my side, i've been letting this loneliness kill me softly for years, the fact that no one's ever been interested in me confirms my thoughts about myself, whatever i bought to fill up this apartment is not me, my drawings are not art, they're just pieces of paper i covered to ask for help but it never fixed anything; just watch me give up and let go of this. it makes no sense anyway, i've only ever lived in my head but it's poisoned and i just can't keep going. i was never meant to be a part of this, nothing ever felt right - and what did just left me - and all of this just feels like i'll keep messing up again and again until the end.

i'm exhausted.

#tw #death tw #tw nightmares #falling apart #giving up #depressing shit #kinda depressing #depressing post #rip #sorry #death mention #mental breakdown

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dreamescapeswriting · 5 years

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BTS Reaction || You’re Sick and another member notices

Seokjin:

You weren’t the one to complain when you got sick, you would suffer in silence and wait for it to go away, there was no use complaining about something that no one could do anything about but that was until now, you hadn’t left your bed in two days, you told Jin over the phone you were busy with work and that’s why you couldn’t come and see him at practice, or in the studio or at the dorms. You promised you’d be round as soon as work calmed down. You didn’t want to bother him with a silly sickness bug you’d caught, it was nothing and you were going to rest up until it went away.

(X)

“Y/N! I’m here for Jin’s hoodie, the pink one!” You didn’t even move when you heard Namjoon calling your name, you just rolled over in the bed to check the time on the small clock.

“Joon…it’s 5 am why are you here?” You groaned as he opened the bedroom door, he stared at you as you laid there.

“You okay?!” His voice full of concern, he rushed to your side of the bed feeling your forehead and trying to pull the covers off you, you were dripping in sweat but you felt so cold in yourself.

“Joon it’s freezing, leave me alone.” You whimpered trying to fight for the covers but failing because you felt so weak, you just laid your head back down and he ran off into the en-suite, coming back a few seconds later holding the first aid box, he pulled out the thermometer and put it under your arm.

“How long have you been like this?!” He questioned going to get a cold flannel and some water, coming back and trying to cool you off, you stayed silent.

“I don’t know, two days? I told Jin two days ago I would be round later.” You whispered trying to push the flannel off your head but he kept it there.

“Y/N…That was four days ago, have you drank anything? Eaten?” He was panicking now and you could tell, you frowned shaking your head.

“I can’t keep anything down.” He took out his phone, you presumed he was trying to call Jin and let him know what was going on.

“Hi, yes I need an ambulance please, right away….” He went on telling them the address while you tried to stop him,

“No, no hospitals please, Joon I’m fine.” He looked at you with a raised eyebrow and then poked your side gently and you screamed out in agony, it felt as though he’d sucker-punched you in the side.

“Yeah I think my friend might be having kidney failure, her lips have a blue tint, she’s not eating or drinking, the temperature is abnormal, thank you.” He hung up and then dialled for Jin,

“Jin I’m going to take her to the hospital, no…no, meet us there, an ambulance is coming, they said five minutes…yes, okay I’ll tell her.” He hung up and helped you sit up in the bed.

“Jin said he loves you and when you’re better he’s going to kill you for lying to him.” You let out a soft giggle before laying your head down on Namjoon’s shoulder, you wanted to just sleep in the bed.

“Kidney failure?” You questioned as you waddled down the stairs together, he sat you down on the last one, grabbing some shoes and helping you get into them.

“Yeah, you’ll be fine. They’ll put you on a drip, and keep an eye on you until they go back up, could take about a week. You should have told one of us you were sick!” He ordered, you hummed closing your eyes and laying your head against the wall.

“Next time I’m sick, I’ll tell you.”

Yoongi:

Yoongi had been working late again at the studios, you didn’t mind, you were used to it by now. He did it a lot and you loved that he was so passionate about his job. Normally when he got so into his work he would stay over at the studio, so you would send food down for him, to be delivered by Hoseok who would come to your place to pick it up and take it with him on his way, but today was different. You slept through your three alarms, finally got up when the fourth one woke you up, you headed straight to the kitchen, taking some painkillers for the killer headache you had, and then began cooking some lunch for Yoongi.

“Shit.” You whispered as you started to feel dizzy from the headache, you knew it was a migraine the second the dizzy spell hit you and the light began to hurt your eye, you pushed on trying to finish the pasta dish you were making before boxing it up for Hoseok to take with him.

“Hey, I’m here what’s on the menu for today?” You did you best to fake feeling fine in front of him, knowing that he if knew you were sick he would tell Yoongi and he would come home, you didn’t want to distract him from his work when he was in the zone.

“I made him some pasta, tell him I’m sorry it’s not much but I’m busy today.” You lied looking at Hoseok as you handed him the seven tubs of pasta, one for each member and smiling at him.

“You okay? You look a little tired.” You nodded, faking a quick yawn and looking at the clock.

“Didn’t sleep much last night, lots to do today.” You were pushing him out of the front door and as soon as he was in his car and driving off you turned off all the lights and went to lay on the sofa, wanting to relax your eyes for a little bit, your head was throbbing and the pain felt as though someone was taking a knife to your skull, you laid your head down on the cool leather and wanted the pain to go away, you felt as though you couldn’t concentrate on anything else.

(X)

Hoseok walked through the front door two hours later carrying some empty containers and he found you on the sofa, fully clothed, laying on top of the blankets, a pillow over your eyes and painkillers on the table, he came to the side of you and gently shook your arm trying to wake you up.

“You okay?” His voice sounded louder than usual thanks to the extreme headache you were having, you wanted to cry when he moved the pillow from your eyes and the light hit you.

“Hobi no.” You whimpered, shielding your face from the light, he got up to turn them off and you relaxed a little more.

“When was the last time you took anything?” He questioned looking down at the bottle of water and painkillers, you wanted to shrug your shoulders but your entire body was aching.

“Come on, we��ll put you to bed and I’ll call Yoongi.” He whispered bending down to pick you up, he threw one of your arms over his shoulder and carried you bridal style up the staircase and into your shared bedroom with Yoongi, he laid you in the bed and covered you up, moving over to the blackout curtains to draw them shut,

“Tell him not to worry, to focus on his work. I don’t want him to be distracted because of me.” You managed to say before falling asleep again snuggled against a pillow that smelt like your boyfriend.

Hoseok:

Being Yoongi’s little sister wasn’t always so easy, especially when you were dating one of his best friends, when you first started dating Hoseok he was protective, not of you though, his little sister, of his best friend. You remember the time you told him you were going on a date with Hobi, he went onto a long speech about how if you broke his heart, sister or not he would break your face, you told him you’d liked Hobi for a while and weren’t planning on breaking his heart.

(X)

“You said you weren’t going to break his heart!” You heard someone yell from beside your bed, you groaned rolling over to find your brother standing in the bedroom door of your apartment, you wanted to scream at him but your throat felt as though it was closing up.

“I haven’t broken anyone’s heart.” You managed to whisper out to him, but he wasn’t listening he came further into the room.

“Do you know how annoying it is to have Hobi in my studio every day asking why you haven’t called him? Or text him? Or sent him a selfie for the last five days!” He yelled you pushed him off the bed as he sat down next to you and you pulled the covers over your head.

“The least you could do is tell him you don’t want to see him anymore instead of ghosting him!” You had enough and sat up in the bed,

“I haven’t broken his heart! I’m sick Yoongi! My throat feels like it’s about to close up, my eyes haven’t stopped watering, my nose is like a god damn tap and I feel so sick all the time!” You squeaked out in an attempt at a yell, you laid back down crying out as your throat hurt even more now, Yoongi looked at you properly now, you were laying in one of Hoseok’s shirts, which you were drowning in it was so big, and all around you were tissues, and water bottles, multivitamin tubs and some other cold and flu relief pills.

“I-I didn’t know.” He said as he came over to you, he put his hand on your forehead and you slapped it away not wanting him to come near you.

(X)

He came back into the bedroom carrying a tray, on the tray was a bowl of chicken soup, the kind your mum made when you were kids, a new box of cold and flu tablets, water, orange juice and a DVD collection of old children’s movies, he set the tray down on the bedside table.

“I’m dying.” You said to him as he climbed onto the bed next to you,

“I highly doubt that, come on-up you go.” He pulled you into a seating position and you took the tablets he’d given you.

“I told Hobi you’re not mad or anything with him, that you were just sick and hadn’t told anyone like the dumbass you are.” He stated before going over and turning on the TV that was in your room, he set up a movie for you and got back into the bed next to you.

“What are you doing? You’ll get sick.” He shook his head and pointed at the TV.

“I’m looking after my baby sister so shut up and watch the damn movie.”

Namjoon:

You were at the dorms with all of the boys, you were trying to have a movie day with them since they would be going away soon, you got along amazingly with every member, your boyfriend Namjoon you got along best with but you were also really close with Taehyung, he was like a brother to you, and it was nice to have a connection with one of them, you were halfway through the first movie when you started feeling sick and gross, so you excused yourself, going to Namjoon’s room to have a lay down for a little while, you didn’t want to bother the boys with your problems, you knew what was wrong so you just needed a little nap.

(X)

“Y/N? You alright?” You woke up to Tae coming into the room with a bottle of water for you, you rubbed your eyes and sat up in the bed making room for him to sit down beside you, he handed you the bottle and you drank from it.

“They’re making food, you want anything?” You smiled, feeling a lot better than you did before and got off the bed following him towards the kitchen where you found Jimin and Jin arguing over something, Yoongi cooking away at the hob, Hobi, Namjoon and Jungkook were nowhere to be seen.

“Gone to get snacks,” Tae said as he noticed you looking around, Yoongi spotted you and called you over, letting you taste the soup he was making.

“What do you think?” You went to try it but the smell hit you first and you instantly felt sick again, you smiled at him before rushing off to the en-suite in Joonie’s room.

“Can’t be that bad?!” You heard Yoongi yell before you slammed the bathroom door, your head in the toilet bowl.

(x)

Tae was sat behind you holding your hair back as you threw up into the toilet, you cringed at the thought of him seeing you like this and threw up again.

“You didn’t even taste it.” He joked trying to lighten the mood, you pulled away from the toilet and flushed it, going to the sink and brushing your teeth with the toothbrush you kept there for when you stayed over.

“You caught a stomach bug or something?” You spat out the toothpaste and washed off your face, debating with yourself, you turned to look at him and shook your head.

“It'snotastomachbugihavemorningsicknesscauseimpregnantbutdon'tknowhowtotellJoonie.” You rushed out, he blinked at you confused by what you’d tried to say to him.

“Morning sickness…I’m…I’m pregnant and I don’t know how to tell Joonie.” You admitted, sitting on the edge of the bathtub and looking at him, he had a smile on his face.

“I’m the first one to know?” He questioned sitting beside you, you nodded.

“Besides the doctor and myself, yeah.” He smiled pulling your head to lay down on his shoulder.

“You have to tell him though.” You nodded, sipping on the water from before and closing your eyes.

“I guess I just wanted to let him be a carefree manchild a little while longer.”

Jimin:

“Jungkook, leave me alone I’m fine!” You said as you crawled back into the bed you would normally share with your boyfriend but he was busy at work for the day leaving you at home with the youngest of the boys who had taken the day off to “play video games,” but you knew it was just so he could annoy you all day, something he could do very well, like something a younger brother could do except you weren’t related you were just really close friends since you were the same age.

“You are not fine! I’ve just heard you throw up three times!” He yelled coming into the bedroom, you threw a pillow in his direction, missing dramatically, he picked it up and came over to you.

“I’m fine, it’s just a bug.” You stated as you snuggled into the pillows below you, he sighed looking at you. Your eyes were bloodshot, your skin was warmer than usual and you were looking pasty.

“I’m calling Jimin.” He threatened, reaching for his phone,

“You touch that phone and it will be the last thing you ever do golden maknae.” You warned sending him an evil glare, you didn’t want Jimin to worry and if he got word of you being the smallest bit sick he would drop everything to come and care for you, which is not what he needed. He needed to focus on work right now.

(X)

You’d fallen asleep next to Jungkook in the bed, you were under the covers while he laid on top of them, drawing invisible patterns into your skin as you tried not to think of how sick you were feeling, you ended up falling asleep together and now you were sitting in the bed as he tried to force-feed you soup as if he was your parental figure.

“It’ll make you feel better.” You took the bowl out of his hands and tried to eat he’d made, you didn’t want to seem ungrateful for what he was doing for you but after one spoonful you felt worse than before, all you wanted to do was lay down and sleep until the bug went away like you normally would but he wasn’t having any of it.

“You’ll get sick if you stay here.” You warned him as he sat beside you again, you laid your head on his lap and he shook his head.

“You’re like a sister to me and since Jimin is busy I’m going to look after you.”

(X)

Jimin walked into the room a few hours later and found you both asleep, back to back as you snuggled into a Chimmy plushie and Jungkook snuggled against a pillow, he scoffed at the sight before noticing the bottles of water, sick bucket and painkillers next to your side of the bed, he woke Jungkook up quietly and replaced him, spooning against you and leaving a small kiss on your neck.

“Missed you Jiminie.” You whispered, trying not to get to close to him, not wanting him to get sick as well.

Taehyung:

Taehyung was out around Amsterdam while you stayed back in the hotel room, you and Tae had been dating for two years and you knew you didn’t have to spend every waking moment together so when he brought you to Amsterdam with them it was a nice break, but you knew you could both go off and do different things since some of the things you wanted to do weren’t what he wanted to do. You had planned to go out around Amsterdam finding all the best beauty shops and buying out face masks and other pamper items for yourself, as well as getting all of the boys some gifts but those plans were ruined when you realised you’d caught a cold, not just any cold but the flu, you were coughing and sneezing every few seconds and you felt like death. Taehyung had left the hotel room before finding out you were sick which was good, you didn’t want to ruin his holiday, you instead planned to have a giant bubble bath, and make yourself sleep all day until the flu left your body, but that plan also wasn’t going to work because Jin decided to come and sit with you for the day.

“Jin I’m an adult I can look after myself.” You tried to defend but he wasn’t moving, he sat down on the bed and turned on the large hotel room TV and found a movie for you both to watch together.

“You’re sick and I’m sick, it’s the best way to spend the day.” You sat down next to him and rolled your eyes.

“I’m only sick because of you, if you hadn’t have gotten sick I wouldn’t be in this mess.” You said to him, which was true. He’d gotten the flu when you stopped in England for a week and kept coming near you when you told him to stay away, eventually, the flu passed onto you.

(X)

“Drink it!” He ordered trying to force a spoon of black liquid into your mouth, you pushed his hand away spilling the contents onto the white bedsheets and screaming, running into the bathroom trying to lock the door but it wouldn’t lock.

“You ruined the sheets!” He yelled coming over to you, you were backed against a wall and had no other way out of the room, you bent down onto your knees and tried to cover your mouth but he came and bent down in front of you.

“Drink it or I will pry open your mouth and pour it down your throat.” You looked at the black liquid and shook your head, it was some cold and flu relief he found online and picked up, it was supposed to be really good and he wanted you both to take it.

“You’ll get Tae infected if you don’t.” You groaned opening your mouth and letting him pour it in.

“Swallow.” You whined as the thick liquid went down the back of your throat, instantly cooling the burning sensation you had but it tasted of something too foul to put into words.

“I hate you.” You stuttered out to him, going to get a drink from the fridge to burn away the aftertaste of the medicine.

Jungkook:

You hardly ever got sick and when you did you just slept the bug away until you were fine again, but you couldn’t do that now. You were on tour with the boys and you were trying to keep up with them as they rushed through the airport to get to their next destination, your head was spinning from the pounding headache you were experiencing, you felt nauseous because you hadn’t eaten all day but you couldn’t eat because you felt so sick, Jungkook was ahead of you in the airport with Namjoon and Jin while you trailed behind slowly with Jimin.

“You look unwell.” He said to you as you walked side by side towards the security desk.

“Well done captain obvious.” You barked at him, he scoffed handing you one of the masks from his bag and you placed it over your face to try and hide how pasty you looked.

“Sorry…I get snappy when I’m ill.” You answered, as you walked through to a waiting area and sat down, Jungkook was nowhere in sight.

“Does Jungkook know you’re not well?” You shook your head, sitting down in a leather chair and wanting to rest your eyes for a little while before you had to board the flight, the photographers and screaming fans from before had made you more tired.

“Just feel so weak.” You whispered to him before falling asleep.

(X)

You were on the move again going to board the plane now, Jungkook was ahead of you again so you walked to Jimin towards the boarding area.

“You really don’t look well, are you sure you’re gonna be okay?” You nodded and handed your passport to the stewardess who nodded letting you onboard, you wobbled a little as you got onto the plane and almost fell back into Jimin.

“If you pass out I’m not going to catch you.” He joked putting one of his hands on your shoulder to steady you, you let out a defeated giggle and walked into the first-class section, finding your seat and instantly sitting down to close your eyes.

(X)

“Kookie.” You whimpered as someone poked your cheek, you turned over to see Jimin staring at you, you frowned and looked around.

“We’re not landing yet, but I got you some painkillers, and Jungkook is trying to find someone who has some anti-sickness medicine.” You looked behind you to see Jungkook asking passengers who were awake if they had any thing, before a nice older looking lady handed him some and he came rushing to your side to aid you.

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anonniemousefics · 4 years

Text

The Nine Terrifying Moons | Chapter Three

Fandom: The Folk of the Air | Jude + Cardan

Synopsis: Based on the response to this post. :) Jude’s not sure what she expected motherhood to be like, but it isn’t this.

(SO MUCH FLUFF HERE. Really. Just. The fluffiest. I can’t help myself.)

Chapter Three: The Third

I think maybe I am meant to be a cautionary tale, not a happy ending.

I think that someone who has manipulated and lied and schemed as much as I have is destined only for tragedy.

And now it’s finally come for me.

I think this over and over again, like a spell I’m chanting to grant myself some measure of grim acceptance, while Cardan and I ride a ragwort horse all the way to the mortal realm. It’s the best course of action we can come up with in the moment of panic.

The moment I knew we were facing a potentially devastating complication, I wanted – no, needed – a human doctor.

Pregnancy is rare among the Folk, and I now find I’m not interested in trusting faerie midwives with a decidedly human condition. If there is something wrong with me, or with our baby, I want to know what it is, everything about it. I don’t trust anyone who might want to strike a deal for my child’s wellbeing or concoct some potion that, while saving the pregnancy, also gives our baby a third eye or snaggle-teeth or an appetite for blood. I’m also having flashbacks of a conversation long ago with Oriana, when she divulged details of Oak’s horrific birth. How there’d been complications that had cost Liriope her life. How Oriana herself had carved the baby out of her friend’s stomach.

I shudder hard at the recollection and press my cheek hard against Cardan’s back as we ride, my face between his shoulder blades. Hard pass. On every bit of that. Just – one massive hard pass. We are finding a real doctor.

Cardan didn’t even argue. Though he insisted it was time to tell The Court of Shadows, if only for safety reasons while we made an unannounced, unplanned emergency run to the mortal realm.

Nothing goes like either of us had hoped. There are no tears of joy. There are only tight, grim expressions and tense words while plans are made. How we will prevent our enemies from learning of the child and our absence. How we will remain protected while among mortals.

I have hardly a word of help to offer, and that alone is horrifying. I have always schemed and survived – it’s what I am. But there, instead, I can only sit with a hand at my flat stomach, my sole focus on willing this little rebel in me to hear her mother’s first command.

Don’t go. Please. I love you.

Please stay.

Please.

I’ve resented this for weeks, and now I’m begging for the nausea, the aches, the exhaustion to stay – all of it. Any reassurance that I’m not losing this newfound love before I’ve even really gotten to know it.

But I also wonder if I should just accept fate. I have always felt from the beginning that I did not deserve this. That I am stealing a happiness that I have not earned.

“How are you faring?” Cardan asks me over his shoulder, the whine of the wind in my ears. We’re somewhere over the sea, jostled by the roll of the ragwort horse’s gallop beneath us.

“The same,” I answer. Sick. Dizzy. Terrified of what comes next. Unconsciously, I grip his body to mine harder. He’s tense, every muscle on edge. This is unlike any journey we’ve made yet. There’s nothing to fight, and still everything to lose.

“Nearly there,” says Cardan, but it sounds like he’s saying it more for his own benefit. He hates the journey over the sea, the precariousness of ragwort horse travel. I’m not in any state to offer reassurances, or even tease him to lighten the mood.

Sure enough, the clouds part, and the city lights along the coast of Maine wink up at us. It’s evening, and dark beneath a heavy rain cloud, and as soon as we’re low enough, we’re being pelted with sheets of rain. By the time the ragwort horse alights its oaken-hooves on the pavement, Cardan and I are both soaked to the skin.

We dismount, invisible beneath a glamour, at the far end of a hospital parking lot. The sign at the entrance glows with a red cross and the name, Down East Community Hospital. It was the best I could think of to do at a moment’s notice: instruct the ragwort horse to find us an emergency room.

I wrap my arms around myself as Cardan holds out a hand to gather up the horse. The leaves of its mane and the bark-like coat of its body begin to curl in on itself, like a plant rolling in on itself for the night. A moment later, it’s only a few leafy twigs that Cardan can hide in his pocket.

We both look absurd, and I’m just now realizing it. We look like we’ve just run out of a community theatre dress rehearsal for a low-budget melodrama. Cardan’s tried to dress down, but he’s still Cardan, and he’s wearing tight black trousers and tall boots over his calves. He’s thrown one of the zip-up hoodies I keep in my wardrobe for trips to the mortal realm over a loose white shirt. He also must have been feeling particularly festive this morning after last night’s romp, and he’d gone and added a bit of kohl to his eyes before I’d woken up and shit hit the fan. And he’s still wearing gold rings all over his fingers and in his pointed ears. Combined with his soaked, inky hair, he looks a bit like a member of an 80’s rock cover band who’s recovering from being pushed into a pool.

It’s kind of nice. He rarely looks a mess. It makes me feel like we’re in this together, at least.

For my part, I didn’t let Tatterfell braid my auburn hair today, and now it’s just long and windblown, so I’ve tried to pull it all to one side to keep it managed. I’m wearing a simple pair of brown trousers with little silken flats that were my least flashy pair of shoes. I’ve got a shirt and olive-colored vest on beneath a hoodie similar to Cardan’s that was supposed to keep me warm, but now it’s sopping wet.

We both pulls the hoods on our sweatshirts up over our heads as we make a mad dash for the automatic sliding doors of the ER, racing against the onslaught of rain. Once we’re inside the vestibule between sliding doors, I stop a moment to grab Cardan’s arm and gather myself. He puts a bejeweled hand over mine, his expression tightened in concern.

“I’ve never done this before,” I confess, breathless. Hospitals, emergency rooms, doctors. It’s all foreign to me.

“I’ve done it even less.” Cardan’s looking more pale by the minute. The rising terror in both of us is palpable.

“I should call Vivi,” I spout, and Cardan’s nodding furiously in agreement, for once graciously not pointing out how he’s been saying this very thing for weeks.

But when I look around, there’s not a phone in sight. There’s only a poorly lit waiting room on the other side of the glass vestibule, and bored-looking nurses waiting at intake windows. Shit. Shit. How do mortals do this? How to they get treatments for mortal ailments and weaknesses and not fall to pieces fretting over their inherent, inevitable vulnerability in the process?

Suddenly, the surety of immortality is looking rather cowardly by comparison.

“Maybe one of the nurses will let me commandeer a phone,” I mutter, and I let my fingers slide from Cardan’s arm to his hand. My palm is starting to sweat when he laces our fingers together, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

The glass door to the waiting room slides with a hissing whisper, and inside there are people crowded in the cheap chairs lining the walls. Somewhere, a toddler is wailing out of sheer boredom while the evening news anchors jabber on a TV mounted in the far corner above a potted plant. Cardan’s already drawing stares with his ominous, messy appearance. He found a beanie in the pocket of the sweatshirt to cover the pointed tips of his ears, but there’s still kohl streaking his prominent cheekbones. I’m gonna need to clean him up at some point.

Right now, all I’m focused on is slipping into the first open intake seat and figuring out how in the hell I’m going to see a doctor for the first time in my mortal life. I am going to be brave. I have trained for nothing less.

“Hi, how can we help you today?” says a warm-looking middle-aged nurse behind the desk. She has short grey hair and floral scrubs, and a pair of readers perched on the bridge of her nose. Her badge says her name is Josie.

“Um.” My mouth feels dry, but I push on anyway. “I am—I am pregnant, and, um, I’m having some…” I draw in a shaking breath. Why is this so hard? “Some bleeding. I think I need to see a doctor right away.”

“Of course, honey,” Josie says, and peers over her readers. “Have you spoken with your OB?”

“I don’t have one,” I shake my head, my face starting to flush as Josie’s concern increases. I’ve never felt like I belonged in the mortal realm, and it’s never felt more apparent that I’m an outsider.

“Okaaay,” Josie says, slowly, adjusting her readers as she turns to her computer. “Let’s get you registered. Name?”

I hesitate again. I’ve never given my name in any sort of official capacity here among mortals. Especially not since I’d gotten married. What do I want to be called?

“Jude Duarte-Greenbriar,” I hear myself answer. From the chair beside me, Cardan titters a little amused laugh to himself and then bites it back when I shoot him a look. He likes the sound of it, too.

“Okaaay,” Josie says again, pecking at her keyboard. “I’m gonna need you to spell that for me, honey.”

I appall Josie further as the registration process yields the fact that I have neither a driver’s license nor an insurance card. With each of Josie’s judgmental sighs, I can sense Cardan stiffening with repressed irritation next to me, and it’s only stressing me out more. I should have had a talk with him first about promising not to curse anyone. I’m half-expecting Josie to sprout cat ears at any minute.

“While we can’t legally decline services based on insurance,” Josie says, doing little to suppress her concern, “I will need you to sign this agreement that says you understand that, since you are not presenting insurance today, you will be personally responsible for the entire cost of today’s visit.” And she shifts a clipboard toward me.

“Oh, look, love,” Cardan suddenly chimes in. He slides a wet leaf from his pocket across the registration desk as his voice takes on the heady, dangerous quality of magic. He’s conjuring a glamour. “I think you can see all of the insurance information you require here.”

“Oh, good, you found your card!” Josie exclaims, delighted, as she takes the leaf and begins happily clacking away at her keyboard.

“Do not get carried away,” I hiss at Cardan while Josie’s distracted. “That should be a one time thing.”

But Cardan just slits his kohl-lined eyes at me, looking like the smug bastard he’s always been, and leans an elbow on the registration desk, throwing Josie a coy smile. The glamour in his voice when he speaks again is just as sinfully seductive.

“And Josie, my sweet,” he says, “you’ll let my wife borrow your phone to speak with her sister, won’t you, dearest?”

“Of course, Mr. Greenbriar,” Josie replies, with the charmed-sweet smile of the glamoured. She shifts her desk phone to me, handing me the handset. “Just press nine for outgoing calls, honey,” she tells me.

I’m frowning at Cardan’s wicked smirk as I accept the phone.

“I don’t think that was entirely necessary,” I whisper to him while Josie types away. He grins at me. I don’t really want to admit that he’s just been pretty useful, and he knows it.

Regardless of how ill-gotten this privilege is, I do need Vivi. I dial her cell phone, one of two numbers I know, and wait while it rings.

And rings.

“She might be screening her calls,” I say to Josie, sheepishly. “Her father is…” Oh, how to describe what Madoc is like these days. “…over-bearing and tricky.” And I hang up and try again. Josie gives a tight, uncomfortable smile, peering over her readers.

“You are not concerned about how unusual this is,” Cardan tells her, the glamour dripping off his voice, and I smack his arm to get him to stop. Josie settles again as the phone keeps ringing.

I have to hang up and dial two more times before Vivi finally picks up. She sounds irritated when she answers.

“Vivi, this is Jude,” I say, slumping in relief that she’s finally answered.

“Jude? Seriously? What?” The annoyance in her voice vanishes as she’s scrambling to understand. “You’re calling me? Where are you? Are you ok?”

“I’m at the Down East Community Hospital emergency room,” I say. “Can you come?”

“Oh, my God.” It sounds like Vivi’s suddenly frantically looking for her keys. “Yes, I’m coming. I’ll be there. Why are you there? What’s going on?”

“It’s a lot to explain over the phone,” I say, slowly, white-knuckling the handset. “I’m ok, and Cardan’s here, but I just really need you.” I hate it more than anything, but I can’t keep the frightened younger sister out of my voice now that I’m actually talking to Vivi about this. The first rush of relief hits me when Vivi replies without hesitation:

“Ok. It’s gonna be ok. I’m on my way.”

I let out a long breath as I hand the phone back to Josie.

“The nurse will call you back when they’re ready for you,” says Josie, and gestures to the crowded waiting room. “Have a seat.”

“Or--” Cardan starts, leaning forward, and I know he’s about to throw out another glamour to speed things along. In the blink of an eye, I clap a hand over his mouth before he can say another word.

“Thank you,” I tell Josie, through a gritted smile, and urge Cardan to move along.

“Your moral stance on glamours ought to have a loophole where our child is concerned,” Cardan gripes as we shuffle to the nearest available two chairs.

“You Folk are like addicts with glamours,” I snap back as we take a seat. “You don’t know when to stop.”

“I believe I’ve proven myself capable of great restraint,” Cardan says, looking miffed for a moment until a People magazine on a nearby table catches his eye and his curiosity of mortals gets the better of him.

He has the right idea, I think. Distraction would be the key to getting my mind off the blood and not falling apart right now. I’ve done everything I can at this point, and now we must wait.

I busy myself for a moment by wrapping the cuff of my sleeve over my fingers and wiping off the rain-splattered streaks of kohl off Cardan’s face, so that the father of my child looks less like the troubled D-list celebrities his People magazine is trashing. He’s not drawing any less attention, but there’s not much either of us can do about that. If you’re not accustomed to the allure of the Folk, it’s nigh impossible to not stare and stare and try to decipher what it is about them that’s so otherworldly. But at least now they’re staring for the right reasons and not at his ruined eyeliner.

With nothing more at arm’s length to distract me, I rest my head against the wallpaper behind me and let my vision go unfocused in the general direction of the TV in the corner. I don’t want to think about the whining toddler in the room, who’s mad at his mother for not bringing the right stuffed animal with them to the hospital. What would I do with a half-human child in Faerie who fell ill or wounded? What would we do? Would the land let Cardan heal him? Would we have to make this journey again? What if I forgot the right stuffed animal, too??

Amazing that I’m suddenly assuming this child is going to survive whatever’s happening now, I realize, and this worry spiral is helping no one.

Once upon a time, I’d been the girl determined to become a thing feared. What has happened inside me, that I’m now this terrified woman? I hate it. I hate it, and I don’t know how to stop it.

“You’re not afraid of that everything will change?” I remember asking Cardan, three moons ago. I had thrown out the last of my birth control that day. We’d snuck away from a revel to lie beneath the massive tree that grew out of the top of the palace of Elfhame, staring at the stars above and dreaming of what they could hold.

Cardan looked to me, his hands behind his head in the loam, his crown slightly askew. He smiled, and the moonlight made him almost too beautiful to bear.

“I cherish every change you’ve ever brought me, Jude,” he said, and he stretched out a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers softly lingering at its rounded edges. “I don’t see why this should be any different.”

“You’ve not always felt so gracious about the changes I’ve foisted upon you,” I pointed out. “And you don’t get to exile me now if my parenting pisses you off.”

I’m not sure what I thought he’d think of such a statement, but it was out in the night air anyway. His gold-rimmed eyes darkened as he pulled his hand back, folding it over his chest. I watched him as he stared up at the stars again, waiting for his response, and with each second, regret began to sink in.

“I consider myself fairly thick-skinned,” he said at last, “but that was uncalled for.”

“I was teasing--” I started, but he shot me a dark look.

“There was a measure of truth in your voice,” he countered. “You don’t lie as well as you think you do.”

“I don’t see what you’re so put out about,” I huffed, pulling back to glare at the night sky. “You weren’t the one living in exile.”

“Not this again,” Cardan groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Five years, Jude. It’s been five years,” he sighed into his palms.

“And now we’re discussing children, and it’s a very large and potentially aggravating change,” I said. “Maybe I am a little wary.”

“Of me?” The moment I saw the unguarded devastation on Cardan’s face, it was like I’d slapped him, and not in the fun way. I wanted to be swallowed down by the loam, covered in a grassy grave. Everything about this was awful. I wanted children with this man. Why was I dredging up ancient history?

But Cardan had been right. There’d been a measure of truth to it. It’s been a deliriously wonderful five years, but we are not entirely new people. We have a terrible past. And I feared what demons a significant change like this could summon.

When I didn’t answer right away, Cardan sat up so his back was to me, burying his head in his hands.

“Cardan…” I shifted so that I was propped up on my hands.

“What else can I give you to make this right?” he fretted to the ground in front of him. “I have given you everything. Every part of me, everything you see before you. It was wrong for both of us to take our games as far as we did, but I would have thought by now--”

“It was an off-handed comment made in poor taste.” I wanted to put a stop to everything that was happening. Rewind the whole evening.

Instead, he looked over his shoulder at me, visibly aching.

“I will not be like my father. I refuse it,” he retorted, and when I cocked my head to the side, not understanding, he went on. “Eldred collected consorts and sired children the way some people curate shoes: to suit his vanity. And I have that in spades already; there’s no need to spawn more. What I would want for a child, more than anything, is to not know what it is to grow up as an accessory. To not fear that his mother will be discarded. Jude, if you cannot trust so little of me, then this is poorly timed. Perhaps we need another five years. Or ten. Or however long you require.”

I sat up and scooted next to him, tucking my chin against his shoulder.

“I trust you,” I assured him in a whisper, and, as if he couldn’t help it, his eyes closed as he leaned his head towards mine. He smelled like oakwood and leather, like everything I’ve ever wanted. “I would not still be with you if I did not trust you.”

I wanted to push back the thick curls from his forehead, and so I did. And held my palm against his jaw as I leaned my forehead to his while the stars twinkled overhead.

Five years later, and sometimes we’re still finding little bits of armor that need to come off. For me, becoming a fearsome thing is not an option for handling motherhood, just as Cardan refuses to mirror his father’s vanity. But when I take off this bit of armor, this need to be feared and respected, it feels as if there is nothing underneath yet. Only vulnerability. Only terror.

I think of it now, in the ER waiting room of the Down East Community Hospital, while I snake my arm through his, looking at him while he’s ogling People magazine. He looks a mess, and there is no one I trust more. I’m still not convinced we’re shining examples of excellent would-be parents. But I’m afraid and vulnerable in the worst ways, and there’s no one I’d rather see me through it.

“Eldred would never have done something like this for any of his consorts,” I point out to him in a whisper, and he looks back at me with a pleased smirk.

“You are my wife,” he indicates, and gives my cold knuckles a swift kiss before turning back to whatever filth is engrossing him in People.

“Jude Duarte-Greenbriar?” There’s a nurse at the emergency room door calling my name. I draw in a breath. Here we go.

The nurse in blue scrubs takes my vitals and makes us somewhat comfortable in a makeshift space where we’re surrounded by taupe-colored curtains on three sides while I wait on a hospital bed. There’s a squeaky grey plastic chair for Cardan to sit on, and no more TV or People magazine – just the assurance that a doctor will see me soon. And then we’re left with our dread to stare at the taupe curtains around us, listening to the squeak of hurried shoe soles against linoleum and the occasional beeping of hospital pagers. The air is acrid, like someone’s tried to scrub it clean, and it’s making my stomach lurch. It must show on my face as I swallow hard against the rising bile, because Cardan swiftly hands me a blue plastic barf bag that the nurse has left him in charge of. He’s wary of my empty threats to aim for his shoes.

“Jude, are you decent?” calls a voice from the other side of the curtain. “You have visitors.”

The curtains scrape against their tracks on the ceiling, and I can’t hold back a relief grin at the sight of Vivi and Heather.

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God.” It’s all Vivi can say as she sweeps in to wrap me in a hug.

“Hey,” Heather graciously greets Cardan while the two are awkward to the side. She’s looking effortlessly cool, with her shoulder-length pink hair in soft waves. She has holes in her jeans in all the right places, and she’s wearing a breezy, colorful boho top that shows off her brown shoulders. I try to give her a wave while Vivi is squeezing the life out of me.

“What are you doing here?” Vivi demands when she pulls away, holding me by the shoulders. She’s given her golden hair a short, edgey chop that almost hides the pointed tips of her half-fae ears when it falls the right way. She tends to favor t-shirts and jeans, but today she’s in tight black pants and a grey v-neck under a jacket, and I’m hoping I haven’t interrupted a date.

“Well.” I shift a glance between the two of them, simultaneously gladdened that they’re here and nervous with how I now I have break the news. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out…” And then Vivi gasps.

“Are you pregnant?!” she squeaks.

“Oh, my God, V,” Heather rolls her eyes. “You can’t ask people if they’re pregnant.”

“She’s right, though,” I interject. “I am.”

“Jude!” Vivi exclaims, fondly, and takes my face in her hands, and, for a brief moment, I realize this is all I’ve been wanting for weeks. I grin, sheepishly. Then Vivi narrows her cat-like eyes at Cardan.

“You knocked up my sister?” she jabs.

“Bold of you to assume it’s mine,” he quips back, and Vivi feigns a disgusted gasp as throw the empty barf bag at him.

“Force of habit,” Cardan tells Heather with a shrug.

“Congratulations, Cardan,” Heather replies, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

“But why are you here?” Vivi turns to me again. “Does Taryn know? Does Madoc?”

“No on both counts,” I shake my head. “It’s early. And we’re here because--” Ugh, I hate this. I hate this. “I started bleeding.”

“Oh, no.” Heather’s face is etched with genuine concern. It’s been a roller coaster of a few minutes.

“But why are you here?” Vivi tries again, and I see what she’s getting at. Why not be seen to by the royal midwives?

“I’m mortal,” I say, quietly. “This is a mortal thing. I felt like I needed a mortal doctor.”

And Vivi takes my face in her hands.

“I completely, one-hundred-percent agree,” she says, whole-heartedly, and there’s relief there, too. She’s always wanted me to spend more time in the mortal realm.

We crowd around the hospital bed for a while to catch up. Heather makes a run to the vending machine to bring back some snacks, and soon the tightness in my chest is releasing and unwinding. This was the distraction I needed. For a few minutes there, I could almost forget what had brought us to this weird, curtained-off corner to begin with.

But then the curtain scrape on the track again. There’s an orderly waiting there in blue scrubs, pushing a wheelchair.

“They’re ready for you in ultrasound now, Jude,” he tells me, and indicates that I’m supposed to ride in the chair. I bristle at the gesture. I’m not sure of the last time I’ve been asked to do something so vulnerable and humiliating. I am not ill. I don’t need this.

Vivi notices and puts a hand at my arm.

“It’s just standard hospital procedure, Jude,” she says, in her tone of voice she uses to convince Oak to eat vegetables.

So I comply. Heather and Vivi tell us they’ll wait for us to get back, and then we’re off. Cardan follows the orderly, and every once and awhile, I hear him having to jog to catch up – he’s easily distracted by what all the mortals are up to in this place.

I’m wheeled into a dark room with an exam table. Next to it is a bunch of strange equipment I’ve never seen before – screens and wands and all sort of buttons. A technician waits for us there, a woman in pink scrubs with a badge that says her name is Brenna. Her dark, curly hair is pulled back tight against her scalp, and she has kind brown eyes that smile when she tells me to make myself comfortable on the exam table.

“And is this Dad?” Brenna wants to know, cheerfully waving Cardan in to have a seat on a grey plastic chair next to me.

“Not my dad,” I say, not understanding the question at first. Then it dawns on me. “I mean, he’s the father, yes. Of the baby.” Oh, my God. This is off to a great start. Cardan’s trying very hard to not laugh outright at me and failing miserably. His laugh comes out like one long snort.

“Happens all the time,” Brenna says, with another cheerful wave, which makes me wonder why she’s still asking it, then.

“First baby?” Brenna now wants to know, making small talk while she’s queuing up her equipment.

“First everything,” I reply, hoping that will explain my nerves. “First baby, first ultrasound, first try.”

“Oh.” Brenna sounds impressed and looks to Cardan as she wheels around in her swivel chair. “Nice shootin’, Tex,” she tells him, with a wink.

“Thank you, Brenna,” Cardan accepts graciously, puffing out his chest a little. I roll my eyes.

“This may be the only time I’m ever complimented on my marksmanship,” he tells me. “Let me have this moment.”

“All right!” Brenna interrupts. “Let’s see what you’re cookin’ in there, mama.”

She rolls up my shirt and tucks in some scratchy paper into my leggings. Then squirts some cold gel across my abdomen. I watch in fascination while she rolls her device over my stomach, and then she turns her screen to us.

“And here’s your little guy,” she says. “Or gal. Can’t tell yet, obviously.”

For a moment, time stops.

Next to me, Cardan draws in a breath.

Something squirmy and alive curls and stretches in the grainy black and white pixels of Brenna’s screen. It doesn’t look quite human. Or fae. It looks kind of alien, if I’m being honest. But I can see its tiny limbs and the outline of its perfectly round head, and it’s moving. Like a manic little seahorse, our little shrimp is bobbing all over the place, alive and well.

“Looking good,” Brenna says, and Cardan barks out a surprised laugh. I’m smiling so hard my face might break.

“Oh, I was sure I’d stabbed it,” Cardan sighs in relief, slumping in his seat, and it’s my turn to laugh.

“That’s not actually possible,” Brenna tells him, and maybe now he’ll believe it. “Let’s see if we can hear the heartbeat.”

She clicks and clacks at some buttons, then turns a knob. Pushes a little harder on my abdomen.

A fluttering, steady whooshing sound fills the speakers in the room. I don’t know when I grabbed Cardan’s hand, but I’m squeezing it hard now. I glance at him. He’s utterly transfixed on the screen, his dark eyes wide, his lips parted. He looks like how I feel when I’m in bearing witness to great and ancient magic.

This isn’t all vomit and exhaustion. This is happening. This is real.

We are making something new. Something entirely unique. Like magic.

“Ok, this might be your issue.” Brenna breaks the enchantment, zooming in on something dark on her screen. My heart, which moments before felt like it might burst, squeezes and contracts in panic now.

“This is a sub-chorionic hematoma,” she says, pointing to the screen and making some notes. “The doctor will explain all this to you.”

“What is it?” Cardan’s voice is tight, panic thinly-veiled. “Is it dangerous?”

“They’re pretty common,” says Brenna, not looking at us while she takes measurements and notes. Like she drops these kinds of bombs regularly. “It’s basically an accumulation of blood between the uterine wall and the fetal membrane. It can cause bleeding, especially as the baby gets bigger and jostles it around. They usually resolve without much issue.”

“Usually?” Cardan’s not assuaged.

“Well, again,” Brenna says, looking at him sidelong, “the doctor will read this and give his advice. But it can increase the risk of miscarriage in some cases. Not always, though. The doctor will tell you how he wants you to treat it, but it usually involves some bed rest or limited activity, nothing too strenuous or crazy. Don’t go horse-back riding!” And she laughs as if only a crazy person would get on a horse while pregnant.

I look to Cardan. He looks to me. It’s hit us at the same time.

The ragwort horse.

How the hell are we getting home?

“Huh.” I barely had time to digest my realization about the ragwort horse before Brenna was back with more. She swivels the device on my stomach around some more. Cocks her head to the side.

“Are either of you a twin?” she asks.

Cardan points at me like I’ve done something wrong he doesn’t want to be blamed for.

“Why?” I ask, slowly, cautiously.

“It does run in families,” Brenna says, and turns the screen to us again. “And I’m seeing two babies here.” She looks back at Cardan. “And on the first try, Tex,” she says, looking impressed again.

Now, nothing feels real. I think I might leave my body. There are two squirmy aliens in the black and white screen, the lazier of the two now floating into view. Brenna adjusts the knobs some more to bring the new heartbeat into focus, just as strong as the first.

“Jude.” I can’t decipher what Cardan’s feeling now. He looks unlike I’ve ever seen him before. Something between elation and sheer dread is warring between his wide eyes and furrowed brow. He grips at the beanie over his hair like he’s trying to keep his own head from flying off.

“Are you and your twin identical?” Brenna asks. I nod, stupidly.

“These, too,” she nods, and points at the screen. “See: they’re sharing a sac.” She draws in a deep breath. “This does elevate the risk more, with the hematoma. The doctor will go over all of this with you. But I’ll bet he’ll want you on some kind of bed rest. Weekly check-ups. That sort of thing.” And then she squints hard at the screen. “What is that?” she wonders aloud. “Is that a tail?”

“You don’t see a tail,” Cardan says, but he’s so flustered and shell-shocked, he’s forgotten to use the glamour.

“I think I might, though.” Brenna squints harder.

“You don’t see a tail,” Cardan says, louder and hurried, this time with the weight of magic heavy in his tone. “Everything you see looks normal to you.”

A glamoured smile flutters over Brenna’s pleasant features as she lifts the device from my belly and clicks off her equipment.

“Everything looks normal,” she hums, happily. “Congratulations, you two.”

“Everything but the hematoma, right?” I cock my head to the side as she rolls away her swivel chair. “The doctor will speak to us about that.”

“What hematoma?” Brenna’s still smiling as she stands with her clipboard. “Everything looks normal. I’m going to call an orderly, but pretty much you’re free to go. Congratulations!”

“Cardan,” I accuse under my breath as she leaves, leveling a glare at him.

“You are carrying twins.” He’s just agape at me, either unaware or unrattled by how the poor wording in his glamour just muddled everything.

“The doctor won’t know about the hematoma now!” I exclaim.

“We’ll scrounge up another one somewhere,” Cardan waves me off. “Jude. Twins.”

It’s not helping me feel any better, him saying it over and over again. I slump into my hands, weighted by disbelief and frustration. What am I going to do? This can’t possibly be real, can it?

“I am going to get so huge,” I moan into my palms in self-pity. I know it’s vain, but at the moment, it’s all I can think. In the land of willowy Folk, I already stick out like a sore thumb. Now I’m going to be a sore and massively swollen thumb.

Cardan’s shifted to stand in front of me on the exam table. And he runs his hands up and down my arms, almost reverent.

“You are magnificent,” he reassures me, softly, and presses a kiss against my head.

“Why are you not freaking out?” I ask, and pull him by the hoodie pockets so I can hug him again if I need it. I think I may need it. “This is two babies. We don’t even know Thing One about taking care of one baby, and now there will be two.”

“We may require a few more house cats,” Cardan jokes, and when I scowl, he asks, “That’s still not amusing? I shall persist. One of these days.”

“You know, I hear that’s a mortal fatherhood trait,” I point out. “Persisting over and over with the same unamusing joke to the embarrassment of everyone around you.” And I wrap my arms around his waist as I look up at him. He’s warm, and everything is a little more bearable when he’s close and smiling.

“I think you are implying that I’m excelling at fatherhood so far,” Cardan grins down at me, and I’m surprised to see it looks as if his gold-rimmed eyes are glistening.

“Are you all right?” I ask, softening at the sight. He blinks, furiously, as he buries his long fingers in the hair at the nape of my neck, holding me close as he looks over my face.

“I just--” His voice is hoarse when he starts, so he clears it and tries again. “This is more than I ever dared to consider,” he says. “I did not dream that this kind of life would ever be an option for me. Family that looked after each other, that loved each other – that always seemed to me to be a strictly mortal gift. As if the Folk had bargained for everlasting life long ago and forsook all hope of familial love in the process. I had accepted that it wasn’t mine to have. But you.”

He shifts his hands so that he holds my face, and I feel swallowed by the adoration in his admission. All I can do is close my eyes as he holds me. I can think of nothing else when his nose brushes my forehead.

“I am overcome by all you have given me,” he whispers, and I think I might cry. My hands twist in the fabric of the sweatshirt he wears.

“I love your words,” I whisper back, “but you give me too much credit.” I pull back to look at his mirthful, glistening eyes and say: “If it were left up to me, I would never have given you twins.”

He laughs outright, unguarded and thrilled.

“Lucky for me, then,” he says, and kisses me.

I have kissed him hundreds, maybe thousands of times. We have shared passionate, unbridled kisses and desperate, devouring kisses. We’ve kissed at quick partings, and we’ve kissed with soft, gentle comfort. I like everything about them all. But this is something entirely new, something that surprises me still. It’s filled with gratitude and promises and dreams of the future, and though it is intimate, I would not have felt ashamed if someone had walked in.

It’s the kiss of complete trust, and in that moment, I feel assured that, in Cardan, I have not made a mistake. There is much to figure out still. But this is right.

So, we will have twins. I will meet this challenge with resolve. For right now, anyway, the quantity of babies is the least of our concerns.

“How in the hell am I supposed to get home?” I ask, the moment we pull apart. Cardan rests his hands on my shoulders, screwing up his beautiful mouth in thought. The ragwort horse. The bed rest. The doctor we must scrounge up somewhere. There are a dozen new bullets swirling on a to-do list, and none of them lead us back to Faerie any time soon.

“I haven’t the foggiest,” he confesses. “Which further complicates matters, because there is absolutely no chance that I am leaving you here.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” I say, and press back a smile. “And also glad,” I add.

Cardan meets my smile with a little wicked smirk of his own.

“Is it time we scheme together once again?” he asks.

We cannot get home until this is resolved, and we cannot leave Faerie ungoverned. I have no idea where to even start on this problem.

But that’s certainly never stopped us before.

There’s a knock at the door. The orderly has arrived with the wheelchair to take us back to Vivi and Heather. I give Cardan a secret, knowing smile.

“I suppose it is,” I agree.

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

Tag list! Let me know if you’d like to be added: @yellowavocadopit, @dagypsygirl, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @booklover-sleeplover, @mwejh, @courtofjurdan, @faeriequeenofwest, @sugawsites, @loveyourselfsolid, @owl0y0s, @feelinglikecleopatra, @akaloto, @charrise, @persephxnecoven, @raging-bisexual-alert, @rteme, @nahthanks, @emmabookworm08, @elorcanislife, @snusbandxknifewife, @poeticbrownmermaid,

#the folk of the air #tfota #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jurdan #jurdan fanfic #vivienne duarte #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #post-qon #babies!#baby fic #pregnancy fic #fluff #jurdan fluff

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no-whump-on-main · 3 years

Text

Apartment 307-8 (Grabbed by the hair)

Hi guys!! I'm so sorry it took me so long to update. School and work have been crazy but luckily I'm out of school next week so I'll have much more time and be posting more frequently! Apologies for the short chapter, I have no idea why but it just kicked my butt lol. I tried doing some cool multimedia stuff, I hope you enjoy! This is @sableflynn's BTHB request, grabbed by the hair.

TWs: Creepy, possessive whumper, mention of branding, also this chapter made me sad bc I love my mom and Elora's mom is sad so warning for that lmao

Elora was still lying there crying hours later. The tears had slowed from her initial keening sobs, but they still fell steadily down her face, accumulating in a small puddle on the tile by her head. She could see a bit of her reflection in the salty water; just her eyes, mostly. She saw green eyes that had once been so full of hope and life that were fading, the slow abandonment of hope almost making them gray out. She wanted to lie there forever, staring into her own eyes, until oblivion took her. If she cleared her head enough, she could pretend she was elsewhere, somewhere warm and loving; the blanket draped over her body did help with the fantasy, though she always knew somewhere in the back of her head that it was just that: a fantasy. She was still here. With him.

Clyde tried to give her time to recover, but his patience wore eventually. He began to get antsy after a few hours of watching her lie there, doing nothing but cry. Admittedly, he did enjoy it at first-seeing her so weak, so docile, because of him-but it eventually grew tiresome. Watching each tear drip down into the puddle became like watching paint dry.

He stood up abruptly. Elora was startled by the motion, flinching before stilling and watching him very carefully. What was he going to do?

“Get up,” he said simply.

Elora froze. She still felt sick, dizzy with pain and the lingering scent of her burning flesh in the bathroom. But why would he care about that? Why should she disobey him, when she knew what would happen?

Yet pride and pain got the better of her again.

“I can’t,” she whimpered. She felt weak. “I hurt. You hurt me.”

The piercing sound of a loud, sudden laugh began to echo through the bathroom. It reminded Elora of the laugh of a hyena. She winced.

“Darling, did you not think that was the point?”

Her expression hardened and her heart thumped in her chest. That was the point. She wanted to say something, but her mouth suddenly got dry.

The man simply grinned. “Get up,” he repeated, but she didn’t. She just laid there, dumbfounded.

He groaned angrily, rolling his eyes. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Be that way.”

He gathered up her hair in his hand, locked his fingers in a tight fist, and pulled up. Elora yelped and scrambled to get to her feet to relieve the pain, but he didn’t give her the chance; he carelessly dragged her off, out of the bathroom, through the hallway, and into the living room. She screamed and thrashed wildly, her hands desperately trying to push him away as her scalp burned like fire. Again and again, her feet scraped the ground to no avail, kicking and kicking but never able to gain enough traction to stand as she was mercilessly dragged. The man finally dropped her on the floor at the foot of a worn leather couch, releasing his death grip on her hair. Her hands immediately flew up to her head, applying gentle pressure to her scalp to try to ease the burning pain as she looked around the new room.

The living room was barren, like the man had half moved into it then given up. There was a dusty box in the corner, the couch, a worn coffee table, a small stand, and an old TV. Other than that, it was empty, in an eerie way. The aged carpet spanned the floor like an ocean.

The pressure didn’t do much and Elora dropped her hands, still wincing as the man plopped himself on the couch behind her, the leather making a loud crackling noise as he sat. She whipped her head around as her shoulders raised up to her ears instinctively. The man made a sour face, his features twisting into an ugly frown.

“Relax,” he commanded, forcefully pushing her shoulders down. At first, she tried to wiggle away, but that idea was abandoned when he tightened his grip, clearly as a warning. He grabbed the TV remote from the arm of the couch and turned it on. It started on some history channel documentary about cars, but Clyde quickly flipped through channels until he found the local news station.

A grin spread across his face as he read the blue banner spanning across the bottom of the screen. They were just in time.

UP NEXT: CAPE COD GIRL GOES MISSING; DESPERATE MOTHER PLEADS FOR HER RETURN

His hands wandered to Elora’s scalp and began to gently card through her hair. She inhaled sharply, and it took everything she had in her not to immediately shove him off. Somehow the gentleness felt worse than the pain; the false sense of care disgusted her. He was a maniac. He hurt her, he branded her, and now he was sitting on the couch petting her hair, pretending like none of it happened. It didn’t escape her attention how he set her on the floor instead of the couch, below him, like a dog.

The banner was bad enough, but she felt sick to her stomach when the station cut to a reporter sitting at a desk with a picture of her on half of the screen. It was the picture her mom took of her at the orchard last fall. It was candid; she remembered it. She was intently focused on a butterfly off on a tree, ignoring her mom as she snapped the photo. It was one of her favorite pictures of herself. And now, it was plastered all over the news.

The reporter on the TV began to speak. “Tonight, a desperate mother pleads for her missing daughter’s safe return. Elora Larkin, nineteen, of Barnstable county, Massachusetts has been missing since Friday night. She was last seen walking home from her job at Agathangelou’s bakery, wearing khakis, a black t-shirt, and black sneakers. The police have opened a tip line and are offering an unspecified reward for any information that leads to Miss Larkin.”

Elora felt a lurching sensation in her stomach, so visceral she wanted to throw up. That was her. On the news. Gone. Missing.

Behind her, the man chuckled.

“Look at that, baby. You’re all over New England.”

“I’m not your baby,” she snapped, turning around. But her head was spinning. All over New England? It wasn’t the Cape Cod news station on the TV. It wasn’t even a state news channel. It was entirely unfamiliar, the reporter’s face one she’d never seen.. So he’d taken her across state lines, making her chances of being found lower yet.

The man shushed her and put a finger up to her lips. “Watch.” She almost bit him, but decided it wasn’t worth the inevitable punishment that would follow. Besides, they might say something useful, something that could help her. She needed to pay attention.

The screen changed, and a missing persons poster popped up. Hers.

It was up for a minute before it faded away as the reporter came back on the screen.

“Such a sad story. Everyone in the studio is hoping and praying for her safe return. Unfortunately, vigilance is so important in this day and age. Up next, we have a recording of a press conference with the girl’s mother.

The girl’s mother. Her mother. Elora felt her heartbeat thumping in her chest.

And there she was. Jodie was standing at a podium in a building that had to be a police station. Demetrios was standing by her side, offering support by merely being present. While Elora hadn’t seen him cry even once in all the years she’d known him, he now looked like he was on the verge of tears.

Her mom started to speak. She looked so sad. Withered, like the life had been sucked out of her, from fear and overthinking and sleepless nights.

“My daughter-My daughter Elora has been missing since Friday night. She’s got-she’s got blonde hair, and green eyes, and she’s real tall. I’m sure pictures have gone around by now. She was walking home from work and-and then she disappeared. We were supposed to have dinner Sunday and she never came. It was supposed to be her weekend off. I- If someone has her, please, I’m begging you, let her go. Bring her home safe. She’s a good kid, she works hard, she rescues cats in her spare time...she doesn’t deserve this. And Elora, if you’re seeing this, I love you. I love you so much, honey. If you chose to leave, please just tell us you’re okay. It’s okay. You can go see the world, just tell us you’re okay. And if something-something bad happened, we’re gonna find you. I promise, baby, I love you and we’re gonna bring you home. Promise.”

At that point, she set the microphone down and began to cry, tears streaming down her face as she hurried off to an exit, the cameras following her for a few moments. Elora’s heart twisted in knots. Seeing her mom’s face brought her so much joy, yet knowing how worried she had to be made her feel sick with guilt.

But she promised. She promised she’d find her.

“That your mom?”

Elora stilled. He already knew the answer.

"She’s kinda pathetic. Could barely keep it together long enough to tell them about you.”

She went cold. “Stop,” she seethed. Her voice was eerily calm, given her anger.

"Or what?” he replied, twisting her hair up in his hand and giving it another tug.

Elora was silent. There was no or what. She knew that.

The reporter came back on the screen.

“Well, folks, that’s all we have on the case for tonight. Remember to be safe and vigilant. This has been Hannah Brown with News12.”

The man released her hair, picked up the remote, and turned off the T.V.

“Notice how they only talked about you, not me?”

Elora turned her head around. She was crying.

“What?”

He scoffed. “I said, notice how they only ran their mouths about you the whole time. Never said a word about me. You know what that means? They don’t know jack shit about me. They don’t know who you’re with or where you are. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but we’re in Connecticut. We crossed state lines twice. They’re never going to find you, you know that?

She tried to hide it, but he could see her expression falling with every word he said, hope beginning to seep out of her. She shook her head vigorously, her bottom lip trembling.

“N-no! No, they will, you’re just crazy! You’re just fucking crazy!”

A scowl formed on his lips. “No, they won’t.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but in a split second, his hand was gripping tightly around her throat, cutting off her air. Her eyes went wide.

“No one is coming to save you.”

Elora swallowed, fear bright in her eyes. She tried to rip herself away, but the man raked his fingers across the fresh brand on her collarbone, sending her to the ground, keeling in pain.

“We could’ve had a nice evening if you behaved. Listened,” he grumbled, standing and once again grabbing her hair tightly before dragging her off towards the bathroom.

Tags: @exploringspaceinpyjamas @all-whumped-out @badthingshappenbingo

#bad things happen bingo #whump #whump fic #whump writing #my writing #whumper #human whumpee #possessive whumper #creepy whumper #Elora #elora larkin #lady whump #whump blog #psychological whump #physical whump #apartment 307

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 4 years

Text

White Lies (Pt. 02 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 2.2 K

Summary: Keanu found the girl almost dead, in the wrecks of what was once her car. While she was in surgery, stuck in a coma, he gathered the best doctors of New York to attend to her. They told him she is likely to have some kind of brain damage, what may lead to memory loss. And this possibility added up wit the fact that she's pregnant, made the council come up with an odd idea. They asked Keanu to pretend to be her husband, since the stress of finding out everything that happened could put the baby in danger. He reluctantly agreed, but only if she does has some kind of memory loss. He still goes she'll wake up soon, with her memories intact.

But when you finally wake up, there's nothing inside. You're quick to find your head is empty, void, like a blank canvas. The only thing that brings you some relief, that makes you feel less lonely is the mention of a husband. And you can't wait to meet him, because you know you can't deal with this by yourself.

<- Previous part (01)

Next part (03) ->

{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

{John Wick Masterlist}

Facing It Together

“Hi.” You mutter, feeling a little pathetic.

“Hi, beautiful.” The man softly says, walking closer to the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“I...” Your hopes are suddenly crushed. You thought you'd recognize him, but you didn't. He's a stranger. “I don't remember you. I'm sorry.” You start crying again, sobbing, unable to look at Keanu. There's a pressure in your chest, like your own heart is being destroyed, and your head hurts so bad it makes you want to throw up. “I'm so sorry.”

“Hey, hey. Calm down.”

His voice is a distant sound as your body is shaken by the sobs, and you hide your face with both hands. “I'm so sorry.” You repeat, defeated and lost. Because this is how you feel now. Completely, ultimately lost.

You're tired of looking inside yourself and finding nothing but a void. No memories, no familiar faces, nothing. It's like you're an empty vessel, stripped away from everything you once were, everything you grew to be. You feel the mattress moving, and hands grabbing your wrists gently, pulling them away from your face. “Don't apologize,” Keanu says, and you can't control yourself. This man is everything you have, the only person from your life that you have around. Whatever this is, wherever this leads, you need him. Biting back a sob, you throw your arms around his neck, holding on to him like you holding on to dear life.

“I-if you want to divorce me, it's ok.” The words flow out, a little confusing, too fast. You can't put him through it, it's not fair. “I can't ask you to deal with this, I...” Still, you don't find it in you to let go of him just yet. And that's when you feel his arms embracing you, strongly holding you against his chest, and it just makes you cry even more. “It's alright if you want to leave me.”

“(Y/N), listen.” Keanu pulls away, and you reluctantly let go. But he remains close, his face once a few inches away from yours as a hand comes to caress your cheek. “I'm not going anywhere. We're in this together, you and I.” Blinking to push some tears off, you stare into his dark eyes. “I promise you.”

“But I–”

“No buts.” He cuts you short, placing a kiss on your forehead. “I'm right here with you and we'll go through this together.”

“Alright.” You mumble, feeling as Keanu dries off some tears with his thumb. “I'm so sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, none of this is your fault.” He's still speaking when a nurse comes in.

“Excuse me. I'm here to help (Y/N) shower. And Dr. Harris asked to see you, Mr. Reeves.” She says, showing off a small smile.

You don't want him to go, but you can't ask him to stay. So you watch as he stands up, looking down before sighing. “I'll see what Dr. Harris wants. But I'll be back, I promise.”

Nodding, you keep your eyes on him until he leaves. But Keanu gives you one last look, along with a smile before heading out of the room.

The psychologist goes through the same things they've been talking about since Keanu agreed to this. The backstory, how to deal with headaches, confusing questions, everything. It takes hours and he's annoyed, mind wandering through the hospital, all the way back to her room.

Keanu's heart is broken. He never saw anyone suffering that much. He never saw someone who felt utterly, impossibly lost. If there was a way, it doesn't matter how much it would cost, to bring her memories back, he'd pay for it. If only medicine was that advanced.

“Mr. Reeves?”

“Huh?” He asks, raising his eyes from his hands up to Dr. Harris again.

“Is everything set at your place? We're planning on discharging her by next week. As long as the baby is alright.”

“And who will tell her about the pregnancy?” Keanu inquires, leaning forward on the table. “I think she should know it sooner rather than later.”

“You, as her husband, should be the one to tell the news.”

“Of course.” He couldn't help but feel guilty, like he's toying with her life. It isn't fair, but her reaction just a while ago changed his mind. It convinced him that the doctors were right. (Y/N) needs him, and it doesn't matter if they're both complete strangers, he feels it in his heart that this is the right thing to do. If he's willing to pay any amount of money to help her get better, he can do this too. And he will. “When can I tell her?”

“Whenever you feel like it. We're counting on you to set the pace in this. Soon enough you'll be very close, and your reports will help us find the right treatments along the way.”

He nods, despite thinking he'll be doing their job. Keanu is not a doctor, and he's not comfortable with this lie. It's too huge, too cruel to trick her like this. He's a confusion of feelings. Maybe he could've found a way to tell her the truth. That he found her, brought her here, and would stay by her side until everything is alright. But now, the damage is already done, and Keanu can't bring himself to break through this. Not now. Not after he saw how desperate she was.

Their talking went on for hours, until late at night. (Y/N) is already sleeping, they told him, so he took his time to go back home, eat something, shower and sleep for a couple of hours. It was still dark when he gets back to the hospital, silently walking into her room. The hospital gown she's wearing now is light blue instead of white, he doesn't know why. Careful, he stands next to her, looking down at her face. (Y/N) is pretty, more than that actually, and despite telling himself not to see her this way, struggling not to find her beautiful given the situation, he can't. A small smile crosses his lips as he moves to the couch in the corner, taking a seat. He'll wait, patiently, for her to wake up. As a true husband would.

You make your way back to consciousness slowly, with a persistent headache. It doesn't seem like it'll leave you alone, said the nurse, not for a while. You also feel dizzy, and the hospital room spins around even though you're secure in the bed.

“Shit.” You mutter, tightly closing your eyes once again, hoping it'll help.

“Something wrong?” The voice startles you, eyes opening and your attention being claimed by him. Keanu is here, making his way over you, looking worried.

“I'm just dizzy.” You explain, trying to move into a sitting position. But Keanu stops you, a hand on your shoulder.

“Keep still until it passes.”

“Alright.” Suddenly feeling nervous, you look away from him, clearing your throat. “I guess it's normal. Giving my... Condition.”

“Actually, (Y/N)...” His tone changes, and it makes you brave enough to stare at him again. Keanu seems uncertain, like he's fighting against himself.

“What is it?” Anxious, you push yourself up, ignoring how your sore body complains. “I-is it bad?”

“No, it isn't.” With his voice softer, he sits on the bed, taking both your hands in his. Furrowing your eyebrows, you decide not to pull them away. He's your husband after all, he must be used to this kind of affection. “(Y/N), you're... We're expecting a child.”

Gasping, your eyes go wide, a hand covering your mouth. “What?” You mutter, tears filling your eyes again. Looking down at your stomach, which is flat, you furrow your eyebrows. “A-are you sure? It doesn't look like it.”

“You're only five weeks pregnant. But soon enough it'll start to show.” Unable to control yourself, you start crying all over again, sobs shaking your body. “Hey, it's alright.”

Once again, you hug him, arms around his neck. You can't help it. If you thought your condition was delicate, complicated, it only got worse. You don't remember anything about yourself, you don't even remember your husband, and now there's a baby in the mix. “W-what and I going to do?” You cry, feeling his arms around you. “I-I don't–”

“We'll do it together, sweetheart,” Keanu says, his voice as soft as silk. You do need him, more than you thought you did. This is something you can't do by yourself. Your whole body hurts as you shake a little, hiding your face from Keanu's neck.

Slowly, you stop crying, allowing Keanu to calm you down, a hand rubbing the small of your back. A couple of minutes after, you pull away, a little embarrassed for breaking down like this. Again. Reaching out for the remote control, you push the buttons until the bed allows you to rest your back while still on a sitting position. Keanu fixes your pillow, and you mutter a ‘thank you’. “So...” You start, a hand on your stomach. “Did we plan it? Or is he or she an accident?” You ask, meeting his dark, deep eyes, voice still low and weak.

There's something in his eyes, something you can't quite place. “We planned it.”

“How long have we been married?” You burst out, a hand still on your stomach. It's a weird feeling to know there's a new life growing in there.

“A year and two months.” Keanu quickly answers.

“Alright.” You whisper, your eyes falling on his hand. Taking a deep breath, you take it, placing it on your belly. His hand is a lot bigger than yours, and your skin warms up under his touch. It hits you suddenly that it must be weird, since Keanu doesn't move. So you sink a little, looking down. “I-I'm sorry. You don't have to.”

“That's not it.” It seems like he was snapped out of his thoughts, and he leans forward a little, his eyes going to where his hand is. “I don't want to make you uncomfortable, that's all.” He breathes out, his thumb moving a little, a small smile crossing his lips.

Laying both your hands on top of his, you sigh. “Keanu, how... How did we meet?”

There's an awkward change in his expression, and he removes his hand from your stomach. “Well, I'm an actor. We met at an airport.”

“An actor? Really?” Furrowing your eyebrows, you chuckle. Looking like this, it's not much of a surprise.

“Yes.” He giggles at your expression. “You weren't really into movies, so you didn't recognize me at first. We started chatting, I asked for your number and you gave it to me.”

“...You're a little older than me, aren't you? If you don't mind me asking.” You couldn't help but notice. Keanu is very handsome, breathtaking really, but he's certainly older. In his forties, probably.

“Uhm...” He clears his throat, restless. “Yes, I'm something around two decades older than you.” Keanu avoids your eyes, looking down at his hands. You wish you could read his thoughts, and you hope you didn't hurt him in any way. “How do you feel about that?”

“I don't know.” Shrugging your shoulders, you curse yourself for saying that. This must be hard for him too, seeing you like this. Having his pregnant wife seeing him as a complete stranger. “Are we... Are we in love with each other? I mean... Do we love each other? Is our marriage good?” You don't know exactly what you're asking, but you need to know how's your relationship. You hope it's good. You hope you're not stuck in an unhappy marriage. But, in your favor, Keanu is treating you nicely, and since the pregnancy was planned, things are probably fine between you two.

“Yes, beautiful,” Keanu assures you, kind eyes as a hand comes to caress your cheek. “We're completely in love. We have been since the beginning and nothing changed. It only got stronger.”

This makes you smile. At least you had a good life before, and hopefully, you'll remember it. You'll remember him. “That's good.” You mutter, and his hand comes to your stomach once again.

“It is.” Keanu smiles too, softly and kind. It still feels weird to have him touching you, but you keep in mind that he's your husband. And you've been hurting him enough already with all this.

“Thank you for... Everything. And I'm sorry for... Driving recklessly and putting myself in this situation on the first place.” If your condition had screwed up your life alone, that's one thing. But there's someone else in this, and a child too. You'll never apologize enough.

“Stop it. None of this is your fault and we'll deal with whatever comes together. I promise you.” Keanu leans closer, and you freeze a little, a burning sensation on your core when you feel his lips placing a soft kiss on your forehead. But you manage to stay calm, offering him a small smile. “I'm with you, alright? You won't be alone through this process, or during your pregnancy.”

“Thank you.” You can't help but repeat, feeling less lonely than felt when you woke up.

@multific @inumorph @aestheticallywinchester @bvbwestfall @liviiii98 @allie1804-fan @gian-giannina @playboygeniusphilanthropist

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crushing-on-nico-di-angelo · 3 years

Text

Okay, here's the actual chapter 3

7 Nights in Cabin 13

Nico took a small step backwards. “I’m sorry,” Will hesitated. “I shouldn’t have asked you, I know you probably don’t want to and--”

“Hey, woah, I never said I didn’t want to. I was just shocked. Not everyday I get asked to sleep with someone-- I- I mean… you know what I mean.”

Will giggled. “So does this mean you do want to?”

“...Yeah. I guess it does.”

Read (and maybe give kudos?) on ao3

~~~~

Lying in Nico’s bed, side by side, wasn’t as awkward as Will thought it would be. The comforter was very comforting and warm. The warmth of Nico made his heart beat faster, he hadn’t slept next to anyone since he was about seven years old having a nightmare about goats and crawled into his mami’s bed.

Nico turned to him, so Will made the necessary adjustments.

“I hope you don’t mind that I kept the window open. The light… helps.”

“I’m the son of Apollo, Neeks. I don’t mind at all.” Nico’s face softened. Will stared at his eyes, and he swore there was a universe of activity and stars in a dark brown expanse. He was lost in trying to pinpoint every constellation that he didn’t notice Nico’s hand reaching for his hair until he felt the tentative ruffle.

“Ah, sorry. I can stop if you’d like. Bianca…” Nico cleared his throat. “Bianca used to do this to me when I was having trouble sleeping.”

“Don’t stop,” Will murmured, once again feeling the effects of sleepiness. “Please.”

Nico closed his eyes and continued softly playing with Will’s hair. Will was simultaneously hyper-aware of how nice it felt to have someone play with his hair and extremely at peace, letting sleep overtake him.

A wedding. Drinking gasoline. Pain in his right leg. Silence; eternal, deafening silence.

When Will opened his eyes, he was acutely aware of the hand resting on his head. A bit of drool was pooled underneath his chin, but how could he move when Nico was still asleep holding his head? Nothing to do now but stay still and think.

Alright Solace… I’ve been putting it off too long. How did I get here? …Nathan is how. But I don’t want to think about him. Which is fine, because I haven’t seen him in years, so I can’t exactly pin this on him. How did I get here now? ...I got into my head again is how.

He remembers it, his relapse, but not exactly.

He was showing Clarisse how to complete an advanced archery move. He may not have been the best in comparison to his siblings, but he and Clarisse had been best friends after the Battle of Manhattan. They had gotten clean together. He had to help her with the archery.

But then. The way he positioned Clarisse’s arm. He remembered that was exactly how Fletcher positioned his. He remembered Michael doing the same for other campers. He finished teaching Clarisse the move and left to go to the showers.

He pushed the thought out of his mind-- or, he tried to. He couldn’t think of anything at all, and his breathing was getting so, so heavy. He turned on the water to hide the noises he was making, hyperventilating. They were dead, they were dead, and he knew they were dead. Why couldn’t he get it through that thick skull of his? He knew they were dead he saw it happen, saw the bridge collapse. But it was all he could think of, all just looping through his mind, over and over and over. No release. No end in sight to the looping thoughts. Breathing breathing breathing only not in the way he was supposed to. Suffocating on too much air and not enough oxygen.

And then the dysphoria kicked in.

His chest hurt. His chest hurt so fucking much. In addition to the binding he was doing, he was breathing so, so hard. He wanted to take the binder off, but his clothes were too wet and it was stuck. Thoughts looping, never stopping. Dead, dead, dead. Never going to be a real man. The sound of the explosion being nothing and everything to him all at once. Losing the first person to help him. Wanting so badly to hurt himself but having nothing to do so with. And then remembering what he did in the following months.

He let the water of the shower run over his soaked clothes while he focused on what he did after they died. The Hypnos cabin, they helped him forget it, but in the wake of his panic attack he remembered where he put them.

The last of his stash.

The next thing he knew, he was frantically searching for pennies with a flashlight in a camp that didn’t even use American currency-- his mind finally off his dead siblings-- at midnight outside of the Hades cabin. And thank Zeus for that.

...He was a weak person. As soon as things got tough, he went with the convenient solution. He’d always been a bad friend and a bad son because of it, and he likely always would be. Things got better for a bit, but looking at himself now? How could he ever think of himself as a good person after this, when it’s clear that he’ll always be fucking… weak like this….

This wasn’t something he was going to forgive himself for anytime soon. Not at all. Especially not for concerning Nico like this. He could have handled himself.

Could I have handled myself? he wondered. Nico shifted in his sleep, his arm now draping over Will’s shoulder. Does it even matter right now? It’s too late to change it.

He tried to settle into sleep again, but he found that he couldn’t. He also didn’t want to think anymore about what happened to get him here in the first place, when he could be messing around with his friends and cabin-mates while canoeing. He could be trying for the camp record on the lava wall. He could be doing a million things… but he fucked it up. Gods, he already said he didn’t want to think about it. So why was he?

He sighed softly, not wanting to disturb Nico. He snuggled into Nico’s embrace, not realizing how close they had gotten when they were asleep. His nose was nearly touching Nico’s and he noticed the faint freckles splashed over his nose and under his eyes. They were so light that you had to be inches away to notice them, but Will suspected that he would only notice them from now on. Just like his eyes, Will felt compelled to trace out constellations.

Will had posters and posters back in his home in Austin about stars and space exploration. He memorized constellations and had a hyperfixation on planets from ages seven to eleven. He still had all of that knowledge in his head, and it was remarkable to him how many constellations he found on Nico’s face. He pulled one of his hands from under the covers and started going over them, trying not to touch Nico’s face. He did lightly trace Nico’s nose, and was surprised when Nico didn’t even stir. He started feeling more and more relaxed, tracing what was almost the big dipper; he eventually fell asleep again with his hand cupping Neek’s cheeks.

He dreamt rough dreams, but was fortunate enough to wake up not remembering any of them.

~~~~~~

Will woke up and felt an absence of warmth. He saw Nico leaning against the doorframe, his silhouette framed by the hall light. He stood there, unmoving. Will would have wondered if he had fallen asleep again if not for the fact that he was standing fully upright. Nico knocked gently on the wood of the frame before walking away. Will wondered what that was all about but didn’t want to ask. He stood from the bed and walked to Nico’s bathroom to splash his face. He stood up and was hit with dizziness. There was a clock by Nico’s bed which read ‘8 P.M.’

“Ah,” he murmured himself. “That’s it.”

He fell asleep with Nico at around noon, which meant he hadn’t eaten in nearly 8 hours. He shivered from the cold. He grabbed a jacket hanging from the bed and walked out.

“Hey, Neeks,” Will felt a bit odd. They had been so intimate with each other earlier, he wondered if that would make things awkward between them.

“Hello, William. How’d you sleep?” Nico seemed to not mind, so Will decided to play it cool.

“Alright. I dreamt, so…”

Nico chuckled. “So not the best it could have been. I made us pot pie, it’s in the oven right now.”

“Holy shit, deathboy. You always cook so much?” Nico smiled and shook his head.

“Just felt like it lately, I suppose. It’s almost ready, grab a seat.”

~~~~~

After about an hour of eating and delirious laughter, it suddenly came to light that Nico had never played 20 questions.

“What the hell do you mean you’ve never played?” Will was incredulous. “Didn’t you used to go to boarding school?” Nico was still grinning from the laughter.

“Well, yes but I was around 10 years old! I didn’t play games like that.” Will shook his head in disbelief.

“We’re remedying that today, di Angelo.”

“How do you play?”

“I ask you a question, you answer it, and then you ask me and I answer. The cycle continues until we each ask 20 questions.”

Nico hummed to himself. “Is anything off-limits?”

Will knew what he didn’t want him to ask, but instead said, “On my end? No. Is there anything you don’t want me to ask you?”

“...I suppose not.”

“Alright. Feel free to say ‘skip’ for any question. No big deal, I’ll just ask a new one.”

“Alright. Do you go first or me?”

Will always liked to ask the same question during 20 questions. “If you had the chance to have dinner with anyone, living or dead, who would it be?”

“Hm…” Nico took a deep breath. “Does my mother count?”

Will’s breath hitched. “She-- she does,” Treat it normal, Solace. “She seems like she’d be a good choice. She died in the 50’s?”

“30’s, actually. Right before I was moved to the Lotus Hotel.”

“...Oh. I’m sorry, Nico.” Nico waved him off.

“It’s fine, I was little. There’s just… so much I wish I knew, you know?”

“For sure…” Gods, this poor kid. “Still, I’m sorry. You were just a kid.”

“Yeah, well. Anyway. My turn, right?”

Will could tell that conversation was over, so he nodded.

“What’s your tattoo?” Nico asked, to which Will smiled.

“It’s… here.” He pulled down his shirt enough for the sun to show. Nico leaned forward to get a closer look.

“It’s really pretty. I saw it on that first night after you showered. Why did you get it?”

“Lee Fletcher.”

“Lee Fletcher? Who’s that?”

And who was Lee Fletcher? Lee Fletcher was the man who meant everything to Will. He had a mom and two sisters, and no father. Lee Fletcher was the first guy in his life to act as a guardian to him. He was four years older and always acted as an older brother even before Will knew that Lee was a guy. Lee taught Will archery and how to talk to girls. Later, Lee would teach him to talk to boys. Lee was powerful and smart. He was so, so brave. He would heal people just by singing to them. He was everything that Will wanted to be.

After he died, Will was inconsolable. Of course, during the war he was fine. He was cool and collected: a healer, the child of Apollo. But after? He started sneaking out more, trying to escape everything and everyone. Started drinking more… that’s when he met Nathan. He knew that wasn’t the question, though. Lee Fletcher, the memory of Lee Fletcher, is what kept him going through the darkest time in his life. He owed the world to him.

“Lee Fletcher… well…”

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