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softguarnere · 7 months

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For Whatever We Lose

Lewis Nixon x OFC (slow burn, enemies to lovers)

Chapter Five: Enchanted

Summary: She may not be fond of Guarnere, but she would rather have a group than be the odd one out. A/N: Battling through burnout this weekend to post a chapter for the first time in forever 😰 Fun fact: it was originally over twenty pages long! Amazing what ADHD can allow you to do when you're avoiding other things, huh? I've split it into two different chapters for everyone's sake, though, but it does make the end of this one feel very sudden The title for this chapter comes from "Enchanted" by Taylor Swift because of course I'm using her lyrics for titles again, it's me we're talking about here Warnings: mentions of the Boarding School Era Taglist: @dcyllom @kujofam

The morning is muggy. Fog clings to the camp like a wet blanket, the moisture so heavy that no one can tell if they’re sweating, or if their shirts are clinging to them because they’re heavy with the water that seeps out of the air all around them. Either way, it’s uncomfortable, and people are complaining about today’s activity before it even starts.

They stand in groups. Easy Company’s men stand to one side, clustered in their small cliques that have already formed, and the women stand to the other, doing the same. Although no one is brave enough to bridge the divide between them, there are curious glances thrown across it, like a scouting party being sent ahead into the unknown before the adventure can officially begin.

Nixon has a feeling that this is either going to go very well, or very poorly – which, to be fair, is how most of life works. But either the men will begin to include the women and successfully integrate them into the company, or they will effectively ostracize them, thereby causing Sink’s great experiment to fail. No pressure.

He, for one, has no intention of ostracizing the women. Quiet the opposite, actually. He’s already searching the scene for Sergeant Revels as he and Dick approach the group.

But Dick stops suddenly. Nixon stops, too, looking back at his friend.

“Wait a second,” Dick commands, his voice quiet, yet firm. Although Nixon has never been in the habit of doing as he’s told, he obeys his friend’s order, taking a step back toward him so that they won’t be overheard. Dick’s voice is low when he says, “Whatever you’re planning – don’t.”

Nixon can’t help but blink. Feigning surprise, innocence, has never worked that well for him, but here it’s at least half true; he has no clue how Dick has figured out what he’s been thinking, and is rather surprised that he’s noticed at all.

“What?” He asks anyway.

“What if it were Blanche?” Dick says, very straightforward, as usual. “Or my sister? What if they had this opportunity, only to end up being sent home because some guy couldn’t help fraternizing with them. Because we both know the consequences for the man would be nothing in comparison to what the women would face.”

Before his friend had spoken, Nixon had planned on teaming up with Sergeant Revels for the scavenger hunt. Now, though, he’s too busy considering what Dick is saying to worry about what he was going to say to her. Instead, he has to figure out what to say to his friend.

“Dick, I was just gonna – “

“You’re married,” Dick reminds him. He raises a gingery eyebrow to punctuate the point. “That wouldn’t look good for anyone.”

“That’s never stopped anyone with the last name Nixon before,” he mutters, mind flashing back to his own father, his own mother, his own childhood – everything from before the Army that mostly feels very distant and easy to forget nowadays.

“Nix,” Dick warns. “Getting the women integrated into the company is going to be hard enough with Sobel accusing everyone of fraternization left and right. Don’t give him any more excuses to revoke a pass. And don’t be the reason that someone gets sent home.”

Nixon hasn’t even done anything yet, technically, but the look of disappointment on his friend’s face is so strong that some terrible feeling that he hasn’t felt in a very long time begins to fester in his chest. Dick can’t really tell him what to do like this. And yet, Nixon is sure that if he doesn’t obey, he might lose the best friend that he’s ever had.

And, okay, maybe Dick does have a point. If someone ruined Blanche’s career, her future, he would probably hunt the bastard down and kill him. He prefers being alive . . . most of the time.

After a moment of doing nothing but staring at his friend, openmouthed – how embarrassing! His mother would kill him if she could see! – and hesitant, he finally snaps it shut, forces his lips into a firm line, and acquiesces. “Fine.”

Dick nods. “Thank you.”

And with that, he approaches the group ahead of them like nothing has happened.

Silence falls as the lieutenants approach the group. Men and women alike stand at attention, ready. Dick nods, smiles, and they all fall at ease.

“Not the most agreeable weather,” he begins casually. “That’s part of why today’s exercise is optional.” He pauses while a sigh of relief runs through the crowd in front of him. “However, I think you will find the reward for those who do choose to participate to be far greater than for those who bow out.

“Somewhere in this camp, there is something that you need to find. You may find it immediately, or it might take you all day. But trust me when I say that it will be much easier if men and women work together.”

No one speaks, but everyone glances at each other in question. Together? Even with the fraternization policy?

“Don’t worry about your passes,” Dick assures them. “You can’t learn to be a real, cohesive company if you’re never allowed to interact. It’s encouraged from now on.”

The men and women glance at each other again, much less shyly, and much less confused than before. Some people clearly seem more excited about this news than others, though. That part becomes even more obvious when Dick allows them to split into groups. Some of the men throw glares at the girls before turning on their heels and heading back to the bunkhouse. It is their day off, after all, and they’ve been told that this is optional.

The rest of them, however, tentatively begin to break away into groups. Some men band together, creating all male groups, but others whisper amongst themselves before glancing over at the girls, figuring out which ones to ask to join them, and how to go about doing so.

“Oh, Anna! He’s looking at you again!” Lucinda teases as Floyd Talbert throws a look in her direction.

The singer keeps her cool, though, only shrugging. “Well, he’ll have to do more than that. Skinny Sisk is the one coming over here.”

On cue, Easy Company’s favorite reprobate swaggers up to her, smile bright. “Hello, Anna.” He nods to the rest of the girls in greeting before putting his full attention on the Tennessean. “Would you like to join my group?”

“Depends.” Anna glances behind him. “Who else is coming?”

“Shifty, Popeye, and McLung.”

“Okay then. Sure.” With that, she follows him off, casting a smile back at the other girls and completely ignoring Talbert, who watches with wide, forlorn eyes as she goes.

Liebgott is the next to approach, which may or may not be because Talbert, looking so crestfallen, whispers something to him before beginning to stalk over himself. Ed Tipper follows them, but he doesn’t look as aggravated as Talbert, or as determined as Liebgott.

“Bianca,” Liebgott says with a smile. “You wanna join us?”

The Italian girl’s eyes widen. For a moment, she stands stock still, like a deer in the headlights. Ever since they joined Easy Company, everyone with eyes has been able to see that Liebgott likes her – except Bianca, that is. Though some argue that she knows and that the real problem is that she’s just too shy and too Catholic to do anything about it.

Finally, she nods. “Sure.”

More men have plucked up the courage to approach them now, and the other girls find themselves receiving invitations that range from bold and bordering on flirtatious to hesitant and downright painful to watch.

It’s not until a familiar face approaches that Lori thinks she’s been saved. For there, out of the crowd, approaches none other than David Webster. She hasn’t seen him in ages. If she’s being honest, she never really cared for him much at social events – he was a bit socially awkward and always managed to find a way to turn the conversation into one about literature or about sharks, neither of which have ever really sparked Lori’s interest. Nevertheless, he’s walking over, and Lori is willing to put all of that aside for the sake of finding a group to join; the comfort of finding something familiar within the unfamiliar.

That is, until he walks straight past her.

“Lori,” he says, offering her a polite nod.

“Hello, David,” she replies, making sure to show off her brightest smile.

But then he continues walking, his friends by his side hardly giving her a glance. What’s worse is that she has to watch in disbelief as he approaches Minerva.

“Good morning, Sergeant Revels,” he greets her.

Minerva smiles. “Hello, Webster. Nice to see you again.”

“Care to join our group?”

She doesn’t know the other men standing with him. And even though she hardly knows Webster himself, he’s always been polite to her, right from the first moment that he came over and introduced himself. The gesture is much appreciated considering all that the women have been through.

“I would,” Minerva agrees. “Thanks.”

She’s just about to take off with him when a hand takes hold of her elbow, stopping her in her tracks. Keziah is staring at her, brown eyes wide as she watches the sergeant go. She doesn’t have to say anything – her eyes dart toward the next group of men approaching, and Minerva can see the problem immediately.

Bill Guarnere is at the head of the group, and he’s heading straight for Keziah. Anyone could have guessed that this would happen. He always seems to have an eye on her.

“What am I supposed to do?” she hisses.

“Kez,” Minerva says, patting her friend’s shoulder. “Just give him a chance.” Guarnere might be boisterous and laugh a lot, but none of the girls have ever had a bad thing to say about him, and it seems like the men don’t either. Besides, when he looks at Keziah, it’s completely different than the expression that he uses when surveying the rest of the company; he’s like a man trying to piece together a puzzle. “I’m sure he’s not as bad as you think.”

Keziah fixes her with a hard look that seems like she’s resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “He’s always looking at me.”

“But I don’t think it’s for the reasons that you think it is.”

He’s upon them now. His friends all greet the girls, flashing bright, handsome smiles. It’s clear that Bill is the leader of this expedition, though.

“Keziah, do you wanna join us?”

A beat passes where it looks like she’s going to say no, to laugh in his face, to refuse him. What no one else seems to notice, though, is the way Lori is edging in at the periphery of Keziah’s vision. She may not be fond of Guarnere, but she would rather have a group than be the odd one out. And if she wants that, then she’ll have to accept before Lori can throw her hat into the ring.

“Sure.” There is no pleasure in her voice, but no malice either. There is nothing but resignation, an acceptance of one’s own fate as she follows Guarnere and his friends away through the camp.

With that sorted, Minerva turns to her new group and offers them a smile. “Well, boys. Where should we start?”

At least Guarnere’s friend is funny.

Keziah has heard about George Luz, though she’s never noticed him much. She recognizes his voice, though, as soon as he introduces himself. He’s Easy Company’s funny man. And his other friend, Joe Toye, is quiet, reserved, but polite enough. Luz’s polar opposite. He offers Keziah a nod when she joins the group.

“Well, fellas,” Guarnere starts. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he pauses, corrects himself. “I mean, er – Well, you know what I mean. Should we start with the mountain?”

Luz groans. “Bill, we climb that thing every damn day. This was supposed to be our day off, and here you are, wanting to make us go right back up there.”

“If something is hidden in this camp, don’t you think it would be up there?” the NCO asks.

“That seems too obvious,” Keziah cuts in before she realizes what she’s doing. All eyes are on her. Clearly no one else expected her to offer up a contradiction, either. “I mean, most people are probably going to assume that it’s on the mountain. Everyone will be going up there.”

“Unless they think it’s too obvious and avoid it,” Toye points out. He shrugs. “Could all be a mind game.”

In the end, they decide it can’t hurt to hike up Currahee just in case. Especially since no other group seems to be doing it, and it might be, like Toye said, the obvious answer.

Keziah wishes that they would run. Then they could get this thing over with. But the boys seem intent on walking – almost at a leisurely pace – and talking the whole time. And talking to her, no less, which was not something that she expected when they set out on this expedition. When she was invited to join the group, it was obvious that it was Guarnere’s idea. She didn’t expect his friends to welcome her with such openness like this.

“So, Keziah,” Luz begins as soon as they’re past the initial incline that starts the trail. “Am I saying that right?” He stops to say it slowly, Kuh-zai-uh, working each syllable and then looking to her for approval.

She nods. “Yeah. Like from the Bible.”

“Job’s daughter,” Guarnere muses.

“Anyway,” Luz continues. “Where are you from, Keziah?”

That’s a good question, and one that she’s not too fond of answering. “Oklahoma.”

Guarnere raises an eyebrow. “Really? You don’t have the accent, though.”

Toye scoffs, checking Guarnere’s shoulder with his own. “What? Should she talk like a cowboy, or something?”

Guarnere shrugs, rolls his eyes. “I don’t know! I’ve never met anyone from there.” He turns to Keziah. “Do people have accents in Oklahoma?”

“Usually.” At a younger age, she would have said no. But now that she’s older, and after spending time away, she can hear it every time that she returns, and can note the different types, too. Her grandpa and father have the distinct tone that comes from speaking Choctaw, whereas her little sister probably sounds more like the cowboys that Guarnere is imagining.

“You don’t have an accent,” Guarnere notes.

“No. I was sent away for school.” Where they would rather die than let you hold onto any semblance of home, she doesn’t add.

Toye’s eyes go wide with realization. Guarnere, however, doesn’t pick it up as easily and plows ahead.

“Oh yeah? Where’d you go to school.”

“God,” Toye sighs.

“What?”

Keziah watches him for a moment, waiting to see if he’ll catch on. When he doesn’t, she tells him. “A boarding school. You know, the kind for Indians.”

“Oh.” The Philadelphian cringes at his own mistake. For what it’s worth, he looks like he wants to kick himself for that one. “Sorry.”

At least he sounds sincere. “It’s fine.” Keziah shrugs it off. She may only be nineteen, but she knows better than to let it weigh her down, to turn the situation awkward. She’s stuck with these men until they find whatever it is they’re looking for.

So she takes a page from Luz’s book and makes light of it. “That’s why I’m the best at close-order drills. Been doing them all my life.”

“The best, huh?” Guarnere raises an eyebrow, his embarrassment at his earlier mistake ebbing away. “We’ll see about that.”

#lewis nixon #lewis nixon x ofc #lewis nixon x oc #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers #band of brothers oc #hbo war #hbo war fanfic #for whatever we lose #oc minerva revels #my writing

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intrepid-creations · 11 months

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Alright

I'm working on NaNoWriMo 2k23 with my project this year being adding 50k words to an existing manuscript I'm writing.

I've posted some drawings of my OCs on here related to said project.

Specifically of a badass and extremely traumatized knight named Torvola

A woman of the same badass caliber but 500x more likely to just try to win the battle herself ... Caleste

And an archer mage who might be the slightest bit into blood magic (it's ethically sourced) ... Cazan

Anyway I had 26k words written before starting NaNo and going to try to get to 76k by the end of the month. I have a whole outline and shit.

Premise: A knight comes out of retirement and reunites with her old war buddies (and one plucky teenager with special powers) to go save the world.

More detailed summary: Torvola is a knight who's long since hung up her sword in favor of living out the rest of her days in relative peace. Most of her 20s and 30s were spent fighting a brutal campaign to help the queen retake her throne. She's exhausted, traumatized, and feels more than a little survivor's guilt. However, when creatures start coming out of a rift in the earth and attack her village she realizes she has to pick up her sword again.

The attack on her village was not an isolated incident and rifts begin opening up all over the region - shattering both the earth and the queen's era of peace. Joined by two of her comrades from her fighting days, Torvola embarks on a quest to find the source of these rifts, put a stop to it, and figure out how a teenager with abnormally strong magical powers figures into all this (... and if she has the time - perhaps get some therapy along the way).

This is a thing I'm planning on releasing as a serial web novel. Not on AO3, I actually have a wordpress site in the works. My plan for this month is to get Part 1 and maybe 2 done. There's four parts to this sucker so basically - get a half finished manuscript. Spend December polishing up the first half as well as writing at least most of the second half.

Then some time in January 2024 actually start releasing chapters. I need to find some time in the middle of all that to like do some illustrations so actually January may be slightly ambitious.

#original projects

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whoslaurapalmer · 1 year

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i want to know about your fic! is that cheating? is it meant to be a surprise?

technically!!!!! it is in fact a surprise!!!! because it is secretly for a person!! I will give the following incredibly vague details --

1) i hope to get it done within the. oh I wanted to have it done by the 20th I think but it will uhhhh probably take. longer. by god, it's already the 11th. I regularly and vastly underestimate time. but I hope not much longer than that!!!! hopefully a week after at the latest??????

2) objectively it has the funniest shenanigans. but also like......I am trying to keep them in character. but also not. experience the EXTREME second hand embarrassment that can come with these shenanigans, bc second hand embarrassment physically hurts me

3) a long long time ago (2008.) the mcr website had a blog section that gerard used REGULARLY, and once posted about calling second hand embarrassment The Motts (and since it's gerard, it does and does not make sense in context.) and ever since then whenever I experience second hand embarrassment I think 'oh no gerard way I am feeling the motts' so my notes very frequently say DO YOUR BEST TO AVOID THE MOTTS.

4) lemony is there!!!!!!! beatrice and bertrand are mentioned in passing. ......other characters show up.

5) the fic spans a great deal of time. like.........a GREAT deal of time. damn.

6) I have never written this trope before but I have read a great deal of it in my time, it was very popular in the les mis fandom? which I have read TOO MUCH fic for. I always wanted to write fic for it and still have lots of wip documents, but I think my les mis fic potential days have passed me by. I still love the amis a great deal, though. anyway it's also not quite that trope, and that's very thrilling. that's where a great deal of the amusement comes in. If I can navigate it right. oh but it's also a very old trope, actually!!

6a) I mean, you see tropes in fic sometimes and think of them as very fic specific, and I think some things very much are, but also, people have been telling the same sorts of stories for an age, and i was actually able to tell my mom about the plot and have her understand it bc she's seen movies with the plot. which is very bizarre, usually this does not happen.

6b) although I do wonder now, isn't this trope like the worst way to get enjolras and grantaire together. well, I guess it depends on how you're writing them, honestly. I think the most well-known fic with this trope did it well, now that I think about it

7) I think. I am going to split it into two chapters. and........see the first half took about a weekish of planning to get the Reasons things were happening to make sense. so if push comes to shove and I only finish the first half by whatever date it was, I will post that, and then, do the second half. which is less structured but still needs. you know. things to stand on. just less things.

8) it tentatively had a title but then I thought, it would be better as a chapter title maybe, so then I figured out the other chapter title, and now I am. Missing an overall title.........

9) the titles, though, are from the songs the maze and I know how to speak by manchester orchestra.

10) potentially, a candlelit dinner may take place. there will be bread.

11) one of my notes just says 'it's the most unsexy [REDACTED] of all time'

12) someone's gonna get kissed eventually though despite my subpar skills at writing physical romance contact!!!!!!

13) I worry about it a lot, though. Just, making the fic, make sense right in general. I know what I'm aiming for but there's still a lot of uncertainty in getting there, sometimes. and it happens all the time, in everything I write!!!! every writer goes through that, in every piece. never stops being very nerve-wracking, though. And I don't think I've ever really written something like it before. so!!!!!!!! we'll see. I'm rooting for it.

#oh! i have the link to the blog post but you gotta run it through the wayback machine now.#they actually finally deleted the old blogs! they were up until at least......late last year? i think that was when i finally saved the post #thank god i did.#this. is a silly amount of vague details. no regerts!

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the-middle-grounds · 1 year

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June Log 2023|Mid-2023 Log

One day May will get a log.

First off, Happy Pride Month.

Second, halfway through the year and I’ve checked a few things off my list. Less than I’d like but at least something got done. Stuff happens, and that includes my ability to wake up being way worse lately and writing just, not happening.

I tried writing a few days ago and I hated every word, so yikes. I don’t know, maybe I’m just out of the groove I was in during January.

Also now have major commitments that include tedious, technical stuff and I have to try to get something important done before the end of my break.

No pressure.

Anyway, let’s check in on those yearly goals.

Goals for 2023

Finish Arc 1 of Three Strikes (Chapters 2-4) and post it by March.

I actually did most of this goal! I’m happy about this one! Not so happy that I still haven’t finished editing chapter 4 because I just, really don’t want to edit right now. My mindset is all types of not willing to edit. If I can my brain into action, chapter 4 might be coming out to finish off the arc by the end of this month.

Write Arc 2 of Three Strikes (5-8).

I haven’t written a word for this since about March, and the reason is similar to the reason I haven’t edited, though it’s much more about figuring out direction. I know what I want from this part, but trying to make the writing actually go along with my plans feels utterly impossible. I have no idea how long it’s going to take, but I want to get out of this rut so yay. Sorry to anyone who expected me to get it done this year.

Complete a sketchbook cover-to-cover.

I’m about a third through my sketchbook. That’s about it. Maybe one day I’ll show off some sketches/doodles I’ve made this year, but I’m my own biggest critic.

Finish the Percy Jackson book series.

Still haven’t finished the third book. Want to finish the third book. Don’t want to read the third book right now.

Design the main cast of Travelers.

Imagine being the one character of a cast of six that is the hardest to conceptually finalize and your opponent is Tarah. Who has spots. Anyway, I’m hoping maybe by December I have a lineup finished.

Plot 2 books in a book series.

The fact I have a little under half of one book done plotting wise and haven’t progressed since writing that up about a year ago is frustrating. Yet I still might actually get at least one done by the end of the year.

Now, since it’s been months since my last log, a quick review of what got done and what didn’t get done since then.

March Goals

Rewrite Chapters 2-4 of Three Strikes to be more tone consistent

Done.

Write Chapter 5 of Three Strikes

Not done.

Finish Titan’s Curse

Not done.

Upload at least one chapter of Three Strikes

Done.

And now finally the thing I’m here for, June’s goals.

June Goals

Read Urban Legends Vol. 1

Edit Chapter 4 of Three Strikes

Here’s hoping it goes well.

#Logs #i'm now realizing I have six issues and Benard appears in issue four #happy pride month tim and benard

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lvllns · 2 years

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candescent

redacted asmr | damien x huxley. 3k words. tiny bit of angst, but mostly fluff and comfort. it's just the way that i am (i'm alive and it's bittersweet), chapter 1 of 3.

[read on ao3]

—

Damien has been doing better, really he has, but there are still moments where his chest gets tight, eyes burning, and it’s all he can do to remember how to breathe.

This morning was one of those moments.

He woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for air and clawing at the comforter. Kicking and flailing until he tumbled to the floor, blanket spinning through the air as his hip slammed against the hardwood, missing the rug entirely. He had groaned, muttered an extensive litany of colorful curses under his breath, and then plucked his phone off the nightstand. It was three in the morning. Damien had two options then. Attempt to get some more sleep so he doesn’t pass out at Huxley’s tonight when everyone gets together, or just start his day.

The park is empty this early, it always is. Damien knows this intimately. He’s lost track of how many days he’s started before five, pushing himself to his limits as he runs the path. Headphones in, music blasting, water bottle held so tight in his hand his fingers ache, he runs. It’s what he’s good at, the running. He likes it. Likes the way his lungs burn, how his head goes blissfully blank as his muscles ache. Sometimes, when he thinks he needs to stop, when his body protests so hard he expects to just drop on the concrete running path, he forces himself to go faster. Go farther. More, more, more. Erase the memories, the sounds.

It’s when everything hurts, when it all feels like an inferno, that Damien starts to feel like himself again.

It’s a process, he knows this. Some days are better than others, some are so bad it’s all he can do to crawl out of bed and exist. Most days start well before sunrise after the nightmares have choked the air from him and ripped the earth out beneath his feet.

There is, also, perhaps some misguided attempt to run his emotions out of him, Damien is aware enough to admit that. The earlier he’s out, the less chance he has of seeing Huxley, and it’s not that he doesn’t want to see Huxley, it’s just that being alone with Huxley is starting to make Damien fumble.

Damien doesn’t fumble.

Or, at least, he didn’t.

Fuck, maybe failing that one class did more damage than he thought.

The point is, he runs and runs and runs until his legs buckle and when the sun begins to snap the horizon in half, he staggers back to his apartment before Huxley can show up for his morning run. It’s just easier like this, for right now. Even if it makes Damien want to scream into a pillow because Huxley has never pushed, never done anything aside from asking once why Damien wasn’t there for their morning run, and when he had told Huxley he had run earlier, that had been it. Huxley had let it go. Hadn’t pushed for an explanation or anything, just accepted that Damien had changed his schedule around. Part of him wonders if Huxley thinks he’s avoiding him, which he kind of is, but…well. He really hopes Huxley doesn’t think that.

It takes four tries to get his key in his apartment door, his hands are shaking so bad from exhaustion, and he barely makes it inside before he collapses on the ground. Back to the wall, legs stretched out in front of him. The pain is grounding. Chest rising and falling, eyes closed. He’s going to feel this in his legs tomorrow, from his thighs down. When he checks his watch, he finds that he’s hit a new personal best, both in distance and mile time. He’s getting quicker, stronger. Next time…next time…

Damien doesn’t remember falling asleep on the floor in his running gear, but he did because he’s woken up by his phone going off. Rapid fire texts. Groaning, he swipes it open and sighs. The group chat, of course. Freelancer and Lasko are talking about food for tonight. Huxley sends the most ridiculous meme about pizza Damien has ever seen and fireflies take flight in his chest. They light up the darkest parts of him, illuminating places he’s kept hidden, and tickle his neck as they crawl up the inside of his throat.

Ever since the inversion, since all the shit they went through together, something has…shifted. Damien isn’t an idiot, he knows that he has a crush on Huxley, but he can’t tell if it’s reciprocated or not, so he keeps it to himself. Locks it away. Stuffs the fireflies in jars and shelves them.

And he runs.

And he avoids being alone with Huxley.

He locks his phone. Forces himself to his feet, and trudges to the bathroom to clean up. It’s later than he expected, and he needs to get ready to pick up Lasko and head to Huxley’s without being late this time.

Lasko talks the entire way to Huxley’s place. Damien welcomes it, welcomes the distraction. He’s thankful that Lasko is opening up, talking more about work. The question dodging still happens sometimes, but it’s slowing down. Damien asks about his day and Lasko responds, honestly, about what’s going on. What he’s doing. He offers his opinions and advice when Damien asks for them, and fuck, it starts to feel normal. It’s all starting to feel normal again, and there’s a little twinge in Damien’s chest.

He hangs back as they walk up to the door. Part of him wants Lasko to knock, to open it, but they don’t even get to that point before Gavin flings the door open and leans against the side dramatically.

“Lasko, Damien,” he says. “Get inside, Hux and Freelancer are out back.”

Damien smiles and it’s tight at the edges. Gavin cocks an eyebrow, head tilting to the left, but Damien waves him off. Not now. Preferably, not ever but he knows that won’t happen. Not when—

“Hey buddy!” Huxley’s voice cuts through his racing thoughts.

Lasko is already outside talking to Freelancer and when did that happen? Gavin squeezes his shoulder as he walks by, something flickering in his eyes that Damien thinks is concern. Or curiosity. He can’t really tell.

Damien blinks and Huxley is still grinning at him. “Hey, Hux.”

“Hugs?”

And how the fuck could Damien ever say no to that?

He nods, an actual, genuine smile cutting through the chaos of his emotions. “Yeah, Hux, please.”

“Fuck yeah dude.”

And then all Damien can smell is redwood. Evergreen. Dirt, soil, mud, clay. Crisp air, the kind that stings a little because it’s so clean. Huxley is warm, arms tight as he holds onto Damien, and Damien doesn’t even fight it. He melts. Presses his forehead against Huxley’s collarbone, wraps his arms around his waist, and just. Breathes. Eyes shut, hands clutching the fabric of Huxley’s tank top.

“Hey,” Huxley says, breath skating along the side of Damien’s face, “you okay?”

Damien shrugs. “Tired.”

One of Huxley’s hands—(big, broad, Damien cuts those thoughts off immediately)—starts drifting up and down Damien’s spine. “You wanna talk about it?”

Yes. “No.” Damien winces. “That was…curt. Sorry.”

“It’s fine bro, something is buggin’ you, I get it.”

Of course he does.

“I just. Maybe later. Tonight is supposed to be for fun and relaxation and not worrying about whatever bullshit won’t clear out of my head.”

“Damien.” Huxley steps back. Rests his hands on Damien’s shoulders and meets his gaze. “Don’t think you have to, like, put on a show for us. If you need to go chill, or, or even leave, don’t force yourself—“

“Huxley,” Damien says, so soft it’s barely a whisper, and he doesn’t miss the way Huxley’s eyes go a little wide. “I’m okay just…dealing with some shit. I don’t want to leave, I want to hang out with everyone.” He swallows. Flicks his eyes to the side to look out the back door. “I’ve missed you. Uh, all of you. Everyone.”

Fuck, Damien does fumble.

Huxley smiles, honest and wide, and his cheeks dimple. “I’ve missed you too dude, runs aren’t the same without you.”

Damien winces. “Ah, yeah, so—“

There’s a hand over his mouth.

He blinks.

“No apologizing, it’s all good.”

The palm against his skin is calloused but warm. Fingers light against his face and shit, shit, that’s the temperature kicking up.

He swallows. Steps back and paints a shaky smile on his face. “Thanks, Hux.”

“No worries.” Huxley throws an arm around Damien’s shoulders and really, honestly, he’s going to light something on fire at this rate. “Now come on, let’s go save Lasko from whatever Freelancer and Gavin are doin’ to him.”

“Oh shit.” Damien falls into step next to Huxley, trying desperately to ignore how good he feels pressed to his side, tucked under his arm. “We did leave them alone, didn’t we?”

They weave their way into the conversation easily. Freelancer throws themself at Damien when he says yes to more hugs, and then Gavin draws him into the topic at hand. Which Damien is hardly paying attention to because Huxley is standing to his right, arms folded over his chest, and it’s taking every single ounce of Damien’s willpower to not blatantly stare at his biceps and what the fuck does he do to get them looking like that?

He’s in the middle of talking with Freelancer about their classes coming up, the increased healing courses they’re taking, when the doorbell rings.

“Oh, that’s the food.” Huxley starts to move but Gavin places a hand on his forearm.

“I got it.” Then he looks directly at Damien. “Come help?”

A split second to consider if he can get out of this, and when he concludes that no, actually, he cannot, Damien nods. “Yeah, of course.”

He promises Freelancer to pick their conversation back up in a minute, and then he’s off. Into the house with Gavin. Who is an incubus.

It takes all of fifteen seconds before, “So, have you finally figured out you want to fuck Huxley?”

Damien sputters. Mouth opening and closing and he can’t get the words out to explain that he doesn’t want to fuck Huxley, except he really, really does but it’s more than that. It’s deeper. It’s everything he saw, the fear of almost losing Huxley, of almost dying, the way it kicked him out of the haze he’d been in. Realizing that he’s been slowly falling in love with one of his best friends and was too stubborn to admit it until everything was shattering to pieces around them. How would he bring that up now anyway? Everyone is healing, things are going back to how they were, and Damien is so scared to smash the window with the rock he’s holding.

“I don’t want to fuck Huxley,” Damien says. Even to his ears, it’s a weak lie.

Gavin levels him with a stare. “Hello, my name is Gavin, I’m an incubus which means—“

Damien shoves his shoulder. “Would you shut up and grab the pizzas?”

As he walks backwards towards the front door, he points at Damien. “This isn’t done.”

With a roll of his eyes, he grabs the stack of plates and napkins, fully intending to be back outside to avoid whatever talk is coming his way, but Gavin just fuckin rifts. With the food. One second Damien is about to leave the kitchen and the next Gavin is directly in front of him, pizza boxes in hand.

“Shit!” Damien almost drops everything he’s holding, barely managing to juggle it and keep it in his grasp. Frowning, he lifts his head to look at Gavin. “Can you fucking not?”

“Are you okay?”

Damien blinks. “What?”

“Don’t play with me, Damien.” Gavin sets the food on the counter. “I can sense the knots. You’re all tangled.” He pokes the middle of Damien’s chest. “What’s going on?”

Damien sets the plates and napkins back down and rubs a hand over his face. “I just haven’t been sleeping.” A heavy, weighted exhale. “My last therapy appointment got pushed back, and I tried to set one up with another therapist because I need to keep the weekly schedule but no luck, so I can’t talk to anyone until next week, and I’m just so fucking tired.” He laughs, rueful, and shakes his head. “I’m a mess right now.”

Gavin hums. “Nightmares?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Damien says. “Bad ones.”

“Freelancer gets them, hell, I do too.” He steps closer, propping his hip against the fridge. “The difference is I lean on them and they lean on me.”

“Are you telling me you want phone calls at one in the morning from now on?” Damien jokes weakly, giving him a lopsided, half-hearted grin.

Gavin scoffs. “Not me, not Freelancer. Not Lasko.” He grabs the pizzas. “Damien, you’re bright, but this is—“

“I don’t,” Damien grits out, “want to ruin things.”

“You won’t. Trust me.”

Gavin leaves him standing in the kitchen staring at the counter. He gives himself thirty seconds. Half of a minute. He counts down. Composes himself, and then takes everything outside. Gavin gives him shit about getting lost. Damien flips him off. Lasko and Freelancer make exaggerated shocked gasps in unison. Huxley bursts into laughter and Damien thinks it’s the sweetest sound he’s heard all week.

Damien replays that sound, the deep, rumbling laughter, over and over and over while he picks up all the dishes. He leaves everyone in the living room, cycling through Switch games like they aren’t all going to just play Smash again for the millionth time, and ducks into the kitchen.

A sense of calm washes over him. Bracing his forearms on the counter, he leans down until he can touch his forehead to the cool granite. It’s quiet in here. The sound of everyone bickering and laughing muted through the walls. He just needs a minute. A moment. Some time to ground himself because he knows he’s going to end up squished on the couch next to Huxley, and with the way he’s been reacting to Huxley’s touches all night, he doesn’t want to light the damn sofa on fire.

“Damien?”

Huxley’s voice cracks the silence.

Damien didn’t even sense him get close.

He shivers.

“Yeah?” Damien asks.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay dude?” Huxley stands next to him. All strength and warmth. Damien can’t help but tip his head in Huxley’s direction, a flower seeking the sun, cheek resting against the counter. “You’ve been…off tonight.” There’s a beat of hesitation and then, in a voice so small it breaks Damien’s heart, “Did I…do something because, like, if I did, could you please just tell me?”

“Hux, Hux, no.” Damien snaps his head up. Grabs Huxley by the bicep—(shit, he’s solid)—and sighs. “I haven’t been sleeping well, and my therapy appointments are all fucked right now, I’m just a bit of a mess. Temporarily.” Huxley frowns, face twisting, and Damien drops his hand back to his side. “I’m fine.”

“You’re such a shit liar, man.” Huxley groans. Tips his head back and rubs his hands over his face. “Fuckin’, you and Freelancer. You don’t want to burden anybody else so you never say shit until you’re cornered but, like, dude, we care about you.” Damien’s eyes sting. He shakes his head but Huxley’s fingers curl around his wrist before he can speak. “I care about you, Damien.”

He laughs, wet and tired. So, so tired. “Half the time I feel like I’m going to wake up and you’re not going to be on the other end of the phone,” he says, the admission loud in the quiet of the kitchen. Damien swallows. Looks up at Huxley, and inhales sharply at the intense look in his eyes. “I’m a mess, Hux. It’s bad right now and I don’t—”

Huxley sighs. Moves closer and holds his arms open.

Damien tumbles into them.

He clings to Huxley, hands fisted in his tank top and cheek pressed right over the center of his chest. Where Huxley’s heart beats steadily. Damien is swallowed up by the hug. Moved so close he isn’t sure where he begins and Huxley ends and he doesn’t fucking care. He doesn’t care. Huxley’s arms are strong and solid, and he smells like the forest they went camping in months ago. Like freedom and second chances and life.

“I think,” Huxley says softly, voice rumbling through his chest, “we’re all kind of a mess right now, dude.” He starts moving his hand up and down Damien’s back, and Damien leans into the touch. “But, like, I’m strong, man. You can lean on me when you need to, I’m not gonna, like, tip over or anything. I can handle it.”

“I don’t—”

“Damien, please.” Huxley catches his chin and tips his head back, meeting Damien’s eyes. “I’m here for you, I want to help, and like, if it’ll make you feel better, I promise to share what’s buggin’ me and shit too.” Huxley’s thumb drifts across Damien’s jaw before he drops his hand. Damien fights to breathe, to keep himself from bursting into flames or burning Huxley or lighting something on fire. He hardly hears Huxley when he asks, “Hey, are you busy tomorrow?”

“What?” Damien blinks, still looking up at Huxley. “Tomorrow?”

Huxley grins. “Yeah, dude. If you’re not busy, we should hang out. Just us. We haven’t done that in, like, weeks.” The corner of his mouth twitches like he’s fighting a frown and Damien wants to smooth the wrinkle forming between his brow away. “We can get lunch?”

“Yeah,” Damien says without even thinking about his schedule for tomorrow. “Yeah, I’m free. I’d love that, Hux.”

“Fuckin’ sweet,” Huxley says, eyes going bright. “I’ll pick you up at one?”

Damien arches a brow. “Do I get to know what you’re planning or is this a surprise?”

Laughter, bright, windchime laughter, and Damien’s heart catches in his chest. Stalling before kicking into overdrive as Huxley beams at him.

“You’ll know what’s up tomorrow.”

He snorts. Shakes his head and smiles. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

“Come on,” Huxley says as he squeezes Damien’s shoulder, “let’s go kick everyone’s asses at Smash.”

Damien follows him out of the kitchen feeling like every nerve in his body is on fire.

He’s never been so warm.

#redacted asmr #redacted damien #redacted huxley #writing tag #long post #me typing all my silly little tags:#anyway the second chapter is like half done so figured i may as well post this lmao #i'm gently holding them both #this kind of sort of turned into an exploration of both of their characters tbh #i love them tho that's what matters

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you-cant-spell-subtext-without · 4 years

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GAH, i am unwell, but -

in my current rewatch of only spn episodes that focus on reapers/death, I have unfortunately Come to a Notion, and I am going to share it with you because once again Nobody Asked.

Yes, this is about how we Can Still Win, even after 15x20.

[other than of course reading my post-15x20 WIP, Angels Don’t Fear the Reaper, the first chapter of which can be found on AO3 here]

so this is an extension of the theory that 15x20 is not actually heaven (because of beers and lighting), and my particular addition to the “Dean is not yet in heaven in 15x20″ lore is -

The Bobby that greets Dean in 15x20 is not Bobby - he is actually Dean’s reaper.

for the love of Chuck I truly cannot watch a single episode of spn like a normal person. Put your clown nose on, buddies, and come bounce around the padded walls with me - after the cut!

Okay. First, it’s important to note that SPN has a history of intentionally using lighting/camera work as part of the story, specifically in grounding location for the viewer, for example, to convey when characters are in an alternate universe (Purgatory, Apocalypse World, The Bad Place) or experiencing an alternate/altered reality such as a djinn dream - or, for purposes of this Essay - the limbo in between life and death whilst dying.

That space is explored a few times in the show, but the first detailed expose occurs in 7x10: Death’s Door with Bobby, as he races through his memories trying to escape his own reaper -

an example of the lighting/blurred camera work from 7x01 can be found here -

[please keep the image of Bobby’s outfit in your mind]

This lighting/blurred camera work appears again in 9x01, when Sam is dying, and is mentally here:

where they have the audacity to make the “part of Sam’s mind that is ready to accept death” appear as Bobby.

Bobby is literally used in the narrative to lead Sam towards Death, convincing Sam to accept dying. Who usually has that job in SPN? Reapers.

***and remember, from 2x01: In My Time of Dying, that reapers can change their form as well as a soul’s perception of surroundings -

!DEAN You know, you read the most interesting things. For example, did you know that reapers can alter human perception? I sure didn't. Basically they can make themselves appear however they want. Like, say, uh, a pretty girl. You are much prettier than the last reaper I met.

TESSA/REAPER I was wondering when you would figure it out.

!DEAN

I should have known. That whole "accepting fate" rap of yours is far too laid back for a dead chick. But the mother, and the body, I'm still trying to figure that one out.

TESSA/REAPER It's my sandbox, I can make you see whatever I want.

Compare this to Bobby’s dialogue with Sam in 9x01:

SAM

I want to fight. I do. But I just feel like...

BOBBY

Like you got nothing to swing at? Like you're punching at shadows? You got to let go of fightin' and scratchin' and lookin' for loopholes, 'cause that ain't happenin'.

SAM

So – so, what? I - I - I just die?

BOBBY

Just die? All the good you've done, all the people you've saved, all the sacrifices you've made? You've saved the world, son. How many people can say that? How many people can say that they have left this godforsaken hunk of dirt that much a better place? What you call dyin' I call leavin' a legacy.

**please hyperfixate on the word legacy for a minute and embed it in your brain for later

***what’s interesting is that this is very out of character for Bobby, and 9x01 actually reminds us of that in a prior scene ->

DEAN

Shut it, Sam. [to BOBBY] You – go. Oh, and, uh, before you throw me under the bus, you're welcome for the hell rescue.

BOBBY

Hey, first of all, you didn't rescue jack, half-wit. Sam did. Second of all, Sam, you're in a coma. Now, suck as that may, sometimes that's just the way things go.

DEAN

What are you talking about? There's always a way. You taught us that.

***this dialogue also contains a very specific callback to 8x19: Taxi Driver, where Bobby has this to say to Sam about accepting the finality of things-

BOBBY

Must have been hell on you not being able to get him out all that time. You did try?

SAM

Look, Bobby, Dean and I had an agreement, okay?

BOBBY I know that agreement. I taught you that agreement. That's a non-agreement. I get the feeling a lot must have happened while I was gone.

***keeping all of this in mind, let’s move on to 15x20: Carry On (sorry)-

where we have this lighting/blurred camera work

and the first person Dean sees in ‘Heaven’ is. . . Bobby

[hmm; that outfit looks familiar]

It also drives me crazy that Bobby is just sitting here, relaxing on a rocking chair

since this was Bobby’s primary concern before heading to heaven in 8x19 after he was rescued from actual hell -

BOBBY

But if they give me a rocking chair up there, I'm raising hell.

Consider Also the final scene in 10x17: Inside Man, after Bobby leaves his boring ass Chuck Heaven house to help Sam and Cas break Metatron out - and Bobby tells Sam “it's the happiest I've been in forever” after he assists him and Cas in Chaotic Causing of Problems.

so, yeah - Bobby in a rocking chair as his perfect heaven is kind of. . .again, out of character.

Also I can’t ever discuss 10x17 without including this -

you’re welcome.

Anyway, back to the Derogatory 15x20 - after Dean chats with “Bobby,” it’s time to drive around In The Car.

hmm, remember Sam’s ‘dying mind limbo’ plot in 9x01?

Also starts In The Car.

incheresting.

The 15x20 drive, however, is spliced with the Sam’s Long Life Montage, and what would convince Dean to accept death more than if his staying dead meant Sam having a long, normal, happy(??) wig life.

[had to.]

also -

*** something something children are a legacy something ***

and look, more blurred camera work.

oh, are they playing catch?

that’s cute.

An interesting irl addition to all of this is that Jarpad is on record claiming that 15x20 is his favorite episode of spn, and his second favorite is - 8x23: Sacrifice. You know, the one where Sam dies. The one immediately preceding 9x01.

BONUS:

Potential Reaper Bobby to dying Sam in 9x01 ->

BOBBY

Everything inside you need to help you on your way. Go on, son. I'll be waiting for you with a couple of cold ones.

cool, cool, cool.

Anyway. Hope this ruined your day as much as it did mine. LYLAS

#literally just sitting here and thinking about this made me want to burn down my house #like im certain none of it was on purpose but was some of it on purpose #will we ever know #will there ever be rest #spn analysis #supernatural #finale derogatorians rise!#destiel #deancas #hellerism #my spn meta #spn 8x19 #spn 9x01 #spn 15x20

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gothighunicorntolerance · 3 years

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At last, my Big Bang fic!

When Roman and his friends go hiking, they expect to see some birds, some lizards, maybe a deer if they were lucky- not a hidden cave with a sleeping person inside, unable to be woken up by anyone. His friends decide to let the sleeping person stay put, but there’s some feeling Roman just can’t shake off. Red chapter one below, and the full fic on AO3, accompanied by amazing art by @littlebigmouse

taglist: @theimprobabledreamersworld @edupunkn00b @ts-storytime

AO3 link

art post

The tranquility of the forest was quickly interrupted by the banter of several people standing by a parked car, their faces illuminated by the pink-tinted full moon low on the horizon.

“Come at me, Mothman! I have a very juicy ass you would LOVE!”

“Remus, you IDIOT. Mothman lives in West Virginia!”

“Well what about the skunk ape, Virgil? Don't you want to see the Skunk Ape? SKUNK APE! SKUNK APE!” He chanted, his voice echoing in the parking lot.

“Remus, would you shut up?!” Roman shoved his brother. “We are actually going to try and find wildlife like deer and stuff, and that’s not going to happen if you keep shouting for cryptids to fuck you.”

The rest of the group sighed collectively at the antics of the twins, though Roman didn’t pay much attention to his friends’ groaning.

“Anyways,” Roman said louder than necessary. “Logan, you have the compass, right?”

“Of course. I also brought several yards of paracord, just in case. And also cereal bars, batteries, and water.”

“Thank you for being the responsible one,” Roman laughed. “Virgil, it’s your job to make sure that the entire state of Florida doesn’t find out that my brother is a monster fucker.”

Virgil groaned. “You know that’s going to be impossible.”

“Just punch him when you think he’s about to say something stupid.”

“Oh, like this?” Virgil smacked Remus in the arm.

“Ow!” Remus groaned.

“Well, I thought you were about to say something stupid.”

“Can we please just get on with our hiking-adventure-whatever you’re calling it?” Janus spoke up.

“Please.” Logan agreed.

“O-KAY! Into the woods!” Roman sang.

The five hikers walked down the small dirt path, the mud from last night’s storm splashing their ankles. The colors of the sunset were barely visible through the branches of the trees, which cast long shadows onto the ground and Roman still quietly humming all parts of the song by himself.

As Roman’s song ended, trailing off into the instrumental bits, Remus had finally shut up about various cryptids, and the only sounds were the squelching of mud sticking to their shoes and the occasional snap of a stick or crunch of a fallen leaf underfoot.

The May nights were cool and humid, so most days like this, Roman wore cheaper jeans and a hoodie that he was willing to throw away if it got too dirty or torn.

About half an hour into their adventure-hike, Logan silently passed around flashlights to everyone, which Roman gladly accepted. It had gotten dark quickly, to the point where Roman had been barely able to see his feet.

Suddenly, Virgil, who was in front, stopped.

“Deer,” he whispered, aiming his flashlight into the trees.

Roman followed the flashlight beam onto a huge buck, its pelt speckled with mud and antlers extending far beyond its ears.

“The inside spread is over twelve inches,” Logan whispered.

“That’s big, right?” Janus asked.

“Yes, it is. The largest recorded spread in the state of Florida was nineteen and a half inches.”

Roman knew that Remus was about to open his mouth and say something stupid, and apparently, so did Virgil, because Remus groaned again after he was hit in the shoulder, the rest of the group snickering.

The deer eventually ran away, and the group continued on until the dirt path ended.

“Hey, look at this!” Virgil waved the group over to where he was standing, shining his flashlight into a large opening in the side of a rockface.

Roman jogged over and looked into the cave- as far as the flashlight illuminated, he could see moss and other plants clinging to wet stone.

“I haven’t seen this before- I think I’d remember,” Janus commented.

“It must have been uncovered by erosion from the storm last night,” Logan added in.

“Let’s go in!” Roman and Remus said at the same time, grinning at each other. They might not agree on much, but when it came to deciding whether or not to explore a creepy-looking cave, the answer was always going to be yes.

“Don’t you think we should- never mind,” Virgil sighed as the twins started swinging their flashlights across the wet ground of the cave.

“Look at this!” Remus whisper-shouted to Roman, pointing out some kind of slime growing on a rock.

“That is disgusting, put it down or I’m not letting you in the car,” Roman said as Remus began to poke the slime.

Remus stuck his tongue out at his brother but reluctantly stopped poking the unfamiliar growth. Roman turned around to see that the rest of the group had followed them in.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Virgil asked worriedly. “I mean, this cave wasn’t here before, and we might be the first living things to step in here in maybe hundreds of years.”

“And this is how people find monster boyf- OW!” Virgil once again took it upon himself to hit Remus in the arm to stop him from talking about various cryptids in a non-child-friendly manner.

“Caves such as this one are particularly interesting because you never know what you might find- oh, look!” Logan pointed to another small opening at the back of the cave.

“I’m going to crawl through!” Roman declared after the group had spent a minute or so deciding what to do.

Roman got on his hands and knees and started to wedge himself through the opening, quite aware that he would likely have to put his clothes through more than one wash cycle to get the stains out. He bit down on the flashlight, illuminating what was in front of him, but only barely.

When there was finally room for Roman to stand, he turned and called through the opening, “I’m fine! You can come through, it’s safe!”

The second part of the cave was much wider than the first part, and Roman was able to stand without hunching over.

Swinging his flashlight across the ground, Roman suddenly gasped.

There was a man laying on the ground, hands folded across his chest, dressed in- were those robes?

“Guys…? You might want to see this…” Roman called out again, his voice shaking.

“Ro? Are you okay- HOLY SHIT!” Janus crawled through, his eyes wide with disbelief and perhaps a little fear.

Remus and Virgil came through next, Remus uncharacteristically silent, his mouth open in an ‘o.’

Logan was the last to crawl through, and he, like everyone else, stood silent, looking at the figure laying in the center of the cave, arms crossed over their chest and wings spread out- Roman rubbed his eyes. This couldn’t be real- he couldn’t have found some guy in a cave that hadn’t been touched in years!

Maybe they had gotten drunk or something and put on a very realistic-looking cosplay and then ran through the woods? Remus had done odder things, so it couldn’t be completely ruled out.

Janus slowly walked up to the figure, stepping over the silken blue robes and putting his hand on their neck, careful not to knock off the wire framed glasses.

“There’s a pulse, but it’s really faint.” Janus announced to the group. “They’re definitely not dead.” The hikers stepped closer to the sleeping person, forming a circle around them but careful to not touch the giant gray bird wings sprouting from their back. Roman noticed a strand of curly brown hair had fallen into their eyes, and resisted the urge to reach out and tuck the strand of hair behind their ear.

After a moment of silence, Roman spoke up. “Should we… try to wake them up? I mean, what else should we do?”

Roman was careful not to touch the sleeping person. Roman wouldn’t admit it, but he was afraid there would be some kind of horror movie scene- where as soon as he got close enough, they would sit up and try to murder him. Or something like that.

Logan crouched and tapped his phone, and the default alarm sound echoed through the cave. The person didn’t stir.

Virgil stepped up next, unscrewing the cap of his water bottle and pouring the contents onto their face. “Seriously? Nothing?” Virgil muttered.

“Let me try,” Janus said, grabbing the person’s shoulder and shaking them.

“Alright,” Remus said, stepping forward and rolling up his sleeve. He looked up at Roman, grinning, before bringing his arm down to the person’s face and slapping them on the cheek. Roman cringed at the echo it created, but there was still no reaction from them.

“How the fuck did that not work?” Remus stared at the still-sleeping person.

“Heavy sleeper?” Roman suggested.

“Coma?”

“Dead?”

“Are we about to be on Buzzfeed Unsolved?”

“Underlying medical condition?”

“Alright, it’s your turn, Prince Charming. Go do a true love’s kiss on the guy. You never know,” Remus laughed.

“No way! I’m not touching that guy with my finger, let alone my mouth!” Roman protested as Remus tried to drag him over.

Another beat of silence passed before Virgil spoke up. “I think we should leave. This dude’s probably not okay, and I don’t want to have to call the police or paramedics. I don’t want to get involved in anything, whether this guy is just stoned or in a coma or whatever.”

“Yeah.” Roman said after a minute of consideration. “You’re right. I don’t want to get involved. We should just- I dunno, leave the guy here? Maybe check later to see if they’re okay? I mean, they’re not dead.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, and soon crawled back out the way they came. Roman exited last, and couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder at the sleeping figure. A small part of him wanted to stay behind, try and wake them up.

But Roman ignored that feeling and left the cave with the rest of his group.

Once the group srood back on the path, all a little shaken or confused from what they had just seen, Roman said, “let’s all just go back home. If we want to, we’ll come back next week or whenever to make sure the guy’s either okay or gone, but for now just leave it alone.”

Roman said the last part for himself, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that he was missing something. He shook his head and followed Logan and Janus, who had already started walking back to the parking lot through the wet grass and still-sticky mud. Even in the dim light, Roman could tell the two of them were holding hands. Roman opened his mouth to tease the two of them but thought better of it. They had all just seen something pretty weird in that cave (Roman was still trying to decide what he really saw), and Logan and Janus hadn’t announced that they were together, probably for the exact reason that Roman would tease them.

Oh well, there would be plenty of moments for teasing later. For now, Roman just focused on dragging his feet along the muddy path back to the car, though he kept glancing over his shoulder. He told himself that it was to keep an eye on Remus and Virgil and make sure they were still behind him, but the nagging feeling that he had forgotten something still lingered.

#Sanders sides #Thomas sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #royality #ts storytime #Big Bang event #Sanders sides fic

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kenmasgameboy · 4 years

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chapter 18: my girlfriend.

previous…next

masterlist

kuroo tetsurou came into y/n’s life when she needed him to fuck it up the most.

a/n: this chapter is an intense one, i put the trigger warnings that i could think of below. if i ever miss anything please feel free to send me a dm or an ask, i’m also always looking forward to your guys’ comments and asks, please don’t forget that i always read them. i want this to be a safe place for everyone :)

trigger warning: bullying, cursing/vulgar language, and violence (smacking, stepping and spitting). anxiety.

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Your book is dripping wet, the pages turned to a fragile paste and falling apart at the touch. Your hair was wet, buckets of water had been prepared just for you. In your honor, four older girls had decided to go out of their way to prepare a bucket of water to dump all over your head.

“What did we tell you?” Their leader, Yui, kicked you in the stomach. “I thought we were very clear yesterday that you cannot talk to Kuroo-san.”

“And then you walked home with him!” One of the other girls spoke, but at this point their voices meshed together in your head. You tried staring at a paint chip on the ground to try and keep your cool.

I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry.

Your face was pulled off the rough pavement to face Yui’s face by your hair. The beautiful girl holds a fistfuls of your hair and you can get a good look at her this way. She really was gorgeous, she had long hair that was dyed a beautiful blond. You could hardly tell her bright blue contacts weren’t real since they fit into her soft features so well. Her makeup was nothing short of flawless, blending perfectly into her skin that made her look effortlessly beautiful. She looked like an idol, an angel in stood front of you, it was a striking contrast to her harsh words she’s given you over the last week.

“And now he posted about you, too! I told you that Kuroo-kun was mine. I should’ve said something weeks ago when I saw him talk to you here.” Yui stomped her foot, “Don’t you dare lie either, I saw him at your shoe locker this morning.”

“I’m not going to lie.” You said, your voice coming out much quieter than you thought. It was cold outside, and your clothes were wet. You didn’t even want to think about your white shirt.

“Good girl.” Yui smiled, “Now let’s talk about arrangements. Since you obviously didn’t listen yesterday. And I’m what they’d call Kuroo-kun’s guardian angel. I’ve always protected him from skanky bitches like you, who aren’t interested in Kuroo-kun for anything beyond what he can do for you. It’s not my first time, and it won’t be my last either. I love Kuroo-kun more than any of you and I’ve been at this a lot longer than you.”

What the hell is wrong with you?

You were cursing at her in your head, every bit of anger poured from your veins and forced you to clench your fist. This girl was pissing you off to no end, nobody was around at this point. Your fear of shyness being easily overwhelmed by the anger of being controlled.

A part of you selfishly wished that Inuoka or Kuroo would enter this scene right now and intervene. But they couldn’t fix this for you. They weren’t always going to be with you. And you weren’t someone who was going to be smacked around by these girls anymore. This girl must’ve been the one that started those rumors about you that forced Kuroo to intervene for you. You didn’t want anyone to have to do that for you.

“Kuroo-san would never like a girl like you.” You said. You would be proud to know your face never wavered as you spoke. Your voice had only a slight shake, the only tell being the shakes of your hand. Every word granted you a half ounce more of confidence.

“Do you want to say that again, dog?” She stepped on your hand with her foot, all her spite being aimed at you.

“What? I told you I wasn’t going to lie.” You kept your face plain. She spit in it and threw you down. You wiped the disgusting vile away with the back of your hand.

“Keep talking! See what happens.” This was a bet you’re willing to take.

“You’re a very pretty girl. But you’re mean, petty, vengeful, controlling and most of all an idiot if you think I can control how Kuroo-san feels. It’s not my fault he likes me. And if you really liked him, you should want him to be happy, but instead you try to block him off from anything that’d do that.” You said it all while she hardly listened, yawning as you spoke.

“Are you done?” She asked, you groaned in response. God she was so annoying.

She smacked you.

“You’re going to act like you know him after a few weeks? I’ve been in love with him for three years. He always has doted on me before you got here, he tutored me, gave me parts of his lunch, and he even gave me his jacket when I forgot my umbrella. Every third year girl knows that he’s mine. He’s too mature for younger girls like you, especially ones with their head in the clouds and nose in a book. You don’t even interact with anyone! What’s so good about you! Nothing! So don’t you dare try to act like you’re better than me!” She said her own speech, ending it with pushing her foot down on your thigh. Your knee scratching against the pavement.

“Kuroo-san isn’t a thing you can own..” It was taking everything in you not to cry, you’ve always had a hard time when people yell at you. But the part of you that wanted to defy authority was still winning at the moment.

“God! You’re so annoying. Just listen to me and break up with him so he can love me already! I’m tired of waiting!” Yui was yelling, you were starting to hear voices in the windows behind you crowding over. Your eyes drifted down, your shirt was totally see-through. This was so embarrassing.

You put your arms over your chest to protect yourself. You scolded yourself for not bringing out your jacket.

“No.” You said, strong and out-front.

“I think this is the most this girl has ever spoken..”

“Normally she’s such a crybaby..”

You heard everything anyone was saying around you. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. None of those people knew you.

“You insolent little bitch–”

“Oh? Big word there, did that make you feel like an adult? You read that one in a book?” You were completely unfiltered at this point. None of it mattered to you. Your clothes were wet, your hair was frazzled, your knees scraped and your face spit on. If there was one thing you could do to protect yourself it was your mouth. You had to.

“Shut up! Be thankful your senpai hasn’t ruined your life. Just let him go! You don’t even like him!” She was really fuming, there may as well be smoke coming out of her ears. “I can tell you’re scared, just agree so we can finish this.”

“That’s not true.” You said, your face blushing as the first sign of emotion this whole time.

“Oh, look, she’s blushing.”

“She’s actually so cute.”

“Gah! I hate you!” Yui raises her hand again, the only interruption being the heavy metal door to the courtyard being opened.

“Stop, stop! Yui, what the fuck are you doing!?” Kuroo, the man of the hour, ran into the courtyard and immediately stripping his blazer off.

“Kuroo-kun! I’m so glad your here, she was being so mean to us! I was just–” It was Yui’s turn to panic. Her voice quivered as she quickly mustered up tears to fake.

“You think I’m going to believe that when she looks like this?” Kuroo quickly wrapped you in his blazer, the large fabric covering you. His warmth flew threw you as he helped you to your feet and held you into his chest protectively. Your cold skin stealing Kuroo’s warmth. You hadn’t really realized how cold you were.

“I heard you had a volleyball meeting today–”

“After school. Even if I did, did you think I wouldn’t come running after I hear about my girlfriend getting bullied?” Kuroo said, his hand wrapping around your head. Your face was hidden, but he could feel you gasp for breath. The emotions you had been trying to hid getting lost in his chest, your stiff fingers gripped the fabric of his sweater vest. Kuroo’s large palm straightened them against his chest, warming them. “God, she’s freezing.”

“Girlfriend?” Yui was really crying now.

“Yes. Y/N is my girlfriend, and if anyone has a problem with this from now on bring that to me.” Kuroo’s deep voice boomed through the courtyard, it was a warning.

“You can’t be serious! It’s only been a few weeks, you’ll just drop her anyways in a few days right?” Yui had never been caught by Kuroo before, whenever a new girl would try to get close to Kuroo he’d never really minded if they lost touch after a few days. But you were someone he sought out, and tried so hard to figure out, he would never let it go that easy.

“Even if it did, you have no right to do any of this. But I’ll be with Y/N as long as she lets me, because I have deep feelings for her. I don’t expect you to understand but neither of us would ever throw the other away so easily as you’re saying. So leave us the fuck alone.” You had never seen him so angry before. But still he was so delicate to you, lowering his head to your ear to whisper a soft: “Are you ok? You did awesome, but this is over now. Let’s get you to the infirmary.”

“I’m sorry.” You said, but it was muffled by his shirt. His chest was so warm and firm, it made you somewhat sad to lose the warmth when he pulled away for only a second.

“Yui, I’m sorry I can’t return your feelings. If I had known you’d feel that way, I would’ve been able to end this sooner. But don’t worry, I won’t be going out of my way for you in the future to avoid any misunderstandings.... I’m going to take her to the infirmary, and I’m telling the nurse everything that happened here.” Kuroo held a strong frame, you winced when you took a step.

Your knee stung from the blood running down your leg. Kuroo didn’t want you to be here any longer than you needed to be, so he latched his palms under your knee and threw your arm over his shoulder. Bridal style he held you in his arms, girls squealed behind you. Your face practically being glued to his shoulder to hide your embarrassment.

The moment you were back inside you felt warmer. You squeezed him tighter to yourself. You were so afraid, allowing yourself to so easily be weak in front of him.

“W–wait.. Kuroo..” You were letting tears fall. He rolled you in his arms to better hold you there. Your hair smelled like a morning rainfall, you were so cold.

“Not yet. We’re not alone.” He said.

The rest of the time you spent in his arms was silent. And when he got you to the infirmary he was ushered to go back to his class since the bell rang.

“Please, she’s my girlfriend. Can I please stay with her?” You could hear him beg the nurse on the otherside of the curtain from where you were changing out of your wet clothes.

It made you smile, you didn’t know a title like this would make you smile. He never asked you, but he sure got comfortable with it really fast. Maybe it wasn’t real though, you tried to slow your heart beat from beating out of your chest at the thought.

“I’m sorry but school comes first. You can come see her later. She’ll be fine.” The nurse assured him. You peaked your head out from behind the curtain.

“Thank you.” You mouthed it to him and it seemed he understood.

Kuroo didn’t seem pleased, but he still nodded. He bowed to the nurse quickly before exiting. Once on the other side of the door he looked at his hands, his sleeves were still wet from where he held you in his arms. He was chilly from losing his blazer that was now with you. The view he had of the top of your head being forcibly pushed into his chest. His chest still tingled from the imprint of your face.

“Kuroo Tetsuro, you’re awful for thinking like this..” he scolded himself. He just had to pull you out of a situation that he caused, it was because of him that they were bullying you. He needed to apologize properly, but his mind couldn’t help but melt at how close you were to him. How it seemed you invited him to be closer. This 6’3” boy reduced to a crumbled, blushing mess as he squatted next to the infirmary door.

Girlfriend.

Wait.

“She’s my girlfriend....” Kuroo remembered saying that in front of everyone, “Did I... say that out loud?..”

Both his hands were used to smack himself. His face didn’t react from the shock, eyes still wide with two hand prints leftover on his cheeks. He didn’t even ask you to be his girlfriend! What had gotten into him! Even in the heat of the moment, he should have taken at least one second to ask and then ask properly later. No, that would’ve looked suspicious. How rude of him to ignore your feelings like that and announce it in front of everyone without your permission.

I’ve been so good at asking her for everything up until now. What if she’s scared of me again? No, if she wants me to I’ll start at stage 1... Maybe Yamamoto was right, I really am a simp for her..

He thought, a small smile still on his face. He was okay with that. You were so strong out there. He only caught a few moments but watching you talk back all on your own was inspiring. You could defend yourself, any normal person would’ve let it go but Yui was a different breed that Kuroo knew too well. Watching you speak so boldly was a treasure that would live in his mind, the last domino of hearing your voice say “That’s not true.” to protext your feelings for him. But that was all he was able to catch of the conversation since he couldn’t stand there knowing that your hand wasn’t shaking from the cold.

Does she really have feelings for me? Is it true? If I would’ve asked.. would she have.. his thoughts stopped abruptly as he looked to his right at the infirmary where you stayed. What were you thinking right now? Were the thoughts you had as embarrassing as his? An image of you popped in his head, probably not. His chest was so tight and warm and the thought. He can’t think like this in the situation you’re in. He should’ve tried to stay in there longer, but maybe any longer and he would’ve burst.

He looked back at his arms, the ones he held you in. The water has dried now, ang trace that you were in them was gone. He really missed that feeling. If it were up to him right now, you’d never walk again so you could always stay in his arms.

Girlfriend..

He’d have to apologize later for overstepping his boundaries and explain later but... he’d never apologize about how it felt far too natural to say.

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chaoticminhos · 4 years

Text

swim captain (chapter two)

pairing: bang chan x reader

genre: angst again i suppose

warnings: none

word count: 3k

a/n: chaos post consistently and not wait weeks to post a second chapter of something that shouldn’t take weeks to do challenge: failed. anyway here’s chapter two of swim captain :)

you were woken by your blaring alarm the next morning. you dragged yourself out of bed and made your way to your kitchen, breakfast was always the first morning task. you passed through the living room on the way there and jumped upon seeing minho’s sleeping form, you had forgotten he stayed the night. you walked over to him and gently shook him awake. the least you could do was be gentle with him considering that he’d only stayed the night to make you feel better.

he groaned as his eyes opened, hand flying over his face to block out the light coming from the windows.

you laughed, continuing your original journey to the kitchen after confirming that he wasn’t going to fall back asleep.

you poured yourself a bowl of cereal and took a seat at your table. it wasn’t long before minho was sitting next to you with his own bowl, the two of you eating in comfortable silence. you only spoke when you stood to go get ready for school.

it didn’t take long for you to get ready, only switching your sweatpants out for a pair of nice blue jeans and putting a shirt on under minho’s sweatshirt. you’d already decided it was yours now, you might as well put it to use right away.

you left your room to find minho sat on the couch playing on his phone. he had fixed his messy morning hair but was still wearing your brothers shirt and hoodie.. the sweatpants were replaced with the same jeans he had worn the day before.

you gestured to his pants, “do we need to stop by your place on the way to school?”

“nah,” he shrugged, “this works.”

“don’t you need to brush your teeth?”

“already did, found an extra in one of the drawers.”

you laughed. the way he helped himself to everything in your house was kinda endearing. it wasn’t just him either, most of the boys knew your house well enough to do things like that without needing to ask.

you motioned for him to stand up and he took that as his cue that it was time to leave. the drive to school was normal, consisting of the two of you singing poorly along to the songs on the radio. he parked in his usual spot in the school lot and you wrestled your bag away from you just to be difficult before handing it back and heading inside. you were having casual conversation, playfully bickering and talking about the meet that day, when someone else joined the conversation.

“y/n, minho, wait up!”

you turned to see chan lightly jogging to catch up to you and minho, falling into line and walking beside you.

your had flew to your hair, quickly brushing out any bumps that may have happened since you brushed it that morning. having been with minho for more than 5 minutes probably meant that anything taming of your hair had been undone.

“don’t you normally walk unless the weather’s bad?”

it took you a second to realize that chan was speaking to you. minho answered for you.

“i stayed at her place last night, kinda would have been weird if i didn’t give her a ride.”

you laughed a little, not noticing the look that flashed across chan’s face at minho’s comment. minho, however, was not so oblivious.

you didn’t have any reason to be looking for a weird look or a reaction out of chan. to you, it wasn’t odd or suspicious to have minho spend the night. he did it to make you feel safe, and it wasn’t any different to you than having one of your girl friends over, other than the fact that minho snored a hell of a lot louder than any of them.

but chan didn’t know that minho stayed with you because you were afraid to be alone, he only knew that you and minho had always been close and that you had spent the night together.

“oh,” chan tried to steady his voice, an uncomfortable and frustrated feeling pooling in his chest. he cleared his throat, “so, you guys ready for the meet?”

minho pouted, “yeah, i think so. i didn’t get a lot of sleep, though.”

chan felt his stomach drop, what was that supposed to mean? minho spent the night at your place and he didn’t sleep much? what kept him up for so long? he didn’t know why the idea of you and minho possibly being intimate frustrated him. probably because he saw both of you as close friends and it was weird to consider you two as a couple. yeah, that was probably it.

you laughed at your friend, your couch wasn’t that uncomfortable to sleep on.

“it’s your fault for choosing to stay the night.”

he put a hand over his heart, “what was i supposed to do, let my dear y/n cower in fear from the storm while i go home and sleep peacefully because i’m not a pussy who’s afraid of a little thunder?”

you laughed as you scolded him, slapping him on the shoulder. meanwhile, chan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding in.

he had forgotten you were afraid of the thunder. he felt himself relax. he was just relieved that he wouldn’t have to deal with you and minho as a couple, you know, since minho was a flirt and had trouble staying in a relationship for too long. that was all, he just didn’t want to see you get hurt and a wedge to be shoved in the swim team friend group. he was snapped out of his head by your voice.

“chan? you good?”

he blinked his eyes as he looked at you, “yeah, yeah, i’m fine. just a little tired.” he chuckled. his eyes lingered on your face, scanning your features. had you always been this pretty?

the three of you walked through the doors and into the school and split off to go to your lockers. minho’s came before yours and chan’s, leaving you and chan to walk the rest of the way to your lockers as just the two of you.

chan’s locker was only a few lockers down from you, close enough to make conversation as you put your things into your locker.

“how about you, ready for the meet?”

he turned to you, closing his locker. his eyes scanned your figure, just now noticing the hoodie you were wearing. minho’s.

“yeah.” his answer came out with more of an edge than he had meant after having noticed the sweatshirt you had on right before the words came out his mouth.

his hand reached out to grab the fabric of the hoodie you had on, “minho’s?”

he didn’t have to ask. he knew the answer, and he didn’t know why it mattered so much to him that you admitted it. it wasn’t like you were trying to hide it.

you looked down at your shirt, “oh, yeah,” you smiled, “he gave it to me yesterday.”

chan slowly nodded. he felt his jaw clench again. wasn’t sharing hoodies something couples did? his previous worries started to creep back. just as he was about to ask if you and minho had something going on, the bell rang and you turned to head to class.

“see you!” you called as you lightly jogged in the direction of your classroom.

chan sighed, you and minho had always been close, but since when were you two this close?it wasn’t a new suspicion of chan or anyone on the team, anyone in school really, to think that the two of you had something going on, so why now was it suddenly bothering him?

chan spent the school day keeping an extra eye on you whenever minho was around, he even made a point to sit between the two of you at lunch. minho laughed when chan shoved him lightly away from the seat next to you, making no protest to get his seat back. your face flushed red when he sat his lunch down and took his seat beside you, it was obvious he had done it deliberately. normally the boys just sat in whatever seat was open, so for chan to push minho out of the seat to get it was unusual. other than that, lunch was completely normal. you and the boys joked and talked like normal, and chan yelled felix and jisung for eating cupcakes on meet day.

in no time, the day had ended and you and the boys were on a small bus on your way to the meet. being only 9 of you, you each had your own seats. minho was across the isle from you, felix in front of you, and jeongin behind you.

chan cursed himself for being the last one on the bus, meaning he couldn’t choose his seat. he normally didn’t mind, but he felt the need to sit by you that day. you know, to make sure minho wasn’t just messing with you. obviously not because he enjoyed being around you or that he thought you looked particularly stunning that day.

chan spent the bus ride half heartedly listening to conversations, mostly focusing on yours and minho’s. he shifted uncomfortably every time he heard minho call you a pet name or, chan didn’t even know if it was jokingly anymore, flirt with you. he knew it was just how minho acted, but it seemed different. maybe chan was just seeing it different, he didn’t know.

arriving at the meet, you helped the boys carry their things in and walked with them to the dressing rooms. you weren’t allowed to go in since there were other teams in the rooms as well, but nothing said you couldn’t wait for them outside.

you stood with your back against the wall next to the dressing room door, eyes trained to your phone. after about 10 minutes of waiting, you felt someone bump into you. you assumed it was one of the boys, that you had missed them exit the locker room and they were now messing with you, but when you looked up, your eyes landed on someone you’d never met before. he was a swimmer, you could tell by the robe he had on, indicating he had already changed into his meet suit and was waiting for the races to begin. he had his head turned away from you, and he was scolding his friend.

“dude, i told you not to shove, you just made me bump into someone!”

you laughed softly at the interaction. it caused the boy’s attention to fall back on you. he bowed slightly.

“i’m jaemin, sorry for bumping into you. this is chenle, he kinda shoved me into you.”

you smiled at them, “i’m y/n. and it’s okay, i’m used to it.”

jaemin chuckled, “brothers?”

“something like that.” your eyes landed on the embroidered patch on his robe. “oh, you’re from NCT?”

his smile grew, “yeah, you’ve heard of us?”

“kinda hard not to know you guys when you’re, like, our biggest rival.”

he tilted his head on confusion.

“i manage for Stray Kids.”

he nodded, mouth forming an “O” shape.

before either of you could speak again, you felt someone place a hand on the center of your back, coming to stand right beside you.

“engaging with the enemy, i see.” jisung joked, “but now we gotta go. chan wants to talk to us before the races start.”

you waved goodbye to your new friend and followed jisung to where the rest of the boys were sitting.

“obviously we aim for first, but it’s fine if we don’t get it. this meet has practically no effect on placing in nationals, so don’t stress yourselves out. stressing will only tense your muscles up, just stay relaxed and do your best.”

with that, the announcer began to call names and the races began. you watched them intently, cheering the boys along from the sides, and they deserved the support.

minho came in first in his 200m freestyle for the first time in a meet that NCT was in, besting their top swimmer by 2 full seconds, 4 seconds above his previous record. when he came up from the water and the announcer stated that he took first for that race, minho rushed out of the pool and met you on the sides, picking you up in a tight hug. chan, who was preparing for his race soon to follow minho’s, saw the interaction and swallowed hard.

chan tensed up at the sight of minho holding onto you so tightly. he had to remind himself of his own words he had said earlier; relax.

chan and the other swimmers lined up on their boards in front of their lanes and waiting for the signal to dive. as the announcer counted down, chan scanned the sidelines, finding you standing with minho and a few other of the boys that had already completed their races. your shirt was nearly a completely different color on the front from being soaked with water when minho hugged you after coming straight from the pool. he’d dried off a little now, but he still had you pressed firmly into his side with his arm around your waist and rested on your hip.

with that image, chan dove into the water.

chan was a great swimmer, he wouldn’t be captain if he wasn’t, but when he was distracted while swimming, it showed. chan swam his race and came up at the end in third place. third isn’t bad placing, but he was used to taking first or second. performing worse than usual he was in a bad mood, and that wasn’t good for anyone. chan dried himself off and threw his towel over his shoulder, making his way to join the group of you who had finished swimming already.

a chorus of “good job!” and “you did good!” was heard when chan reached the group, which he shut down with a shake of his head. chan stayed with you guys for the remainder of the races, but he barely spoke.

the last match finished and the boys headed back to the locker rooms, once again leaving you alone to wait for them. after sneaking into the restroom to take off your soaked shit and pull on minho’s hoodie instead, you propped yourself against the wall next to the locker room door and waiting for the boys to come out, just like you had at the start of the meet.

when they finally did, jisung suggested the group of you going to get ice cream to celebrate minho’s new best race time and, even though no one said it, to cheer chan up. minho beamed at the idea, and chan let out a dry chuckle. he knew he preformed bad, and he knew it was because he was frustrated with the way you and minho had been acting recently, and to be quite honest, he didn’t really want to get ice cream with you and see more of your interactions before the night ended.

before chan could deny the request, claiming he was tired and wanted to go home and rest, someone called your name.

“y/n!” jaemin jogged up to you, not even bothering to address the other boys around you. “hey, my teams heading to get a bite to eat, i was wondering if you wanted to come along?”

“oh, uh…” you turned towards your team, face flushed red, silently asking for help. before any of the boys could okay you going with jaemin or not, chan interrupted.

“she’s going out to eat with us, actually.” chan took a step closer to you and jaemin. he had surprised himself with his words. he wasn’t even planning on going before, but he suddenly felt the need to do anything to keep you from going with jaemin. he thought to himself that it must be because, although he didn’t like the idea of you and minho together, if you were a couple, he wouldn’t want some other guy to come between the two of you. chan felt frustration pool in his stomach again, unconsciously sending a glare in jaemin’s direction.

“she hangs out with us after every meet, let her miss this one time.” minho spoke.

“are you sure, min? i know your new best time is a big accomplishment for you, if you want me to celebrate with you i will.”

“nah, don’t worry about it,” he ruffled your hair. “we can get boba tomorrow to make up for it, yeah?”

you smiled at him, “okay!”

and with that, you followed jaemin back to his group. the second you were out of earshot, chan turned to minho.

“what the hell, man, you’re okay with that?”

minho furrowed his eyebrows, shrugging, “why wouldn’t i be?”

“i don’t know, maybe because your girlfriend is about to leave with a group of guys we don’t know-“

“woah, woah,” minho interrupted, “i’m sorry, girlfriend?”

chan blinked at him, “yeah, aren’t you two like, a thing?”

minho let out a loud laugh, “oh my god, i swear i have to clear this up with someone every fucking day.” he clasped his hands together in front of him, “no. she’s gorgeous and i love y/n just as much as any sane person would, but i would never do that to you.”

chan frowned. “wouldn’t do that to him?” what was that supposed to mean? regardless, chan would have expected his muscles to relax at the reassurance that you and minho weren’t and never had been together, but for some reason, the frustration stayed in his stomach, increasing when he glanced over and saw you with jaemin and his friends.

according to his previous logic, he should have been fine with you going with jaemin now. it wouldn’t affect yours and minho’s relationship since you two weren’t even in one and he didn’t have to worry about minho hurting you anymore, so why was he still frustrated?

then it hit him.

how stupid was he? the anger he felt when he saw you close with minho or when you walked away with jaemin wasn’t just him being a protective friend or not wanting you to be with someone who might hurt you, it was him not wanting you to be with anyone, unless that someone was him.

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adrenaline-roulette · 4 years

Text

Four Eighths

Pairing: Four x Eight (Reader) Word Count: 8K+ (She’s a doozy!) Warnings: Language, angst, very basic medical procedures *Disclaimer: Hey again guys, so sorry about the delay with this chapter. But I’ll admit, I actually got this posted a lot sooner than I thought I would! So kudos to me I guess? I just want to say a huge thank you to all of those who have been with this story since the beginning, and those who have joined us along the way. This isn’t the end of this story, but I just want to let you all know how much you all mean to me. And please remember, if you read this story and you like it, give it a like, a comment and maybe even a reblog if you think your followers may like it? I know there isn’t much happening in the 6 Underground fandom these days, but the only way to keep it alive, is if people keep reading and writing for the characters!

All my love my dudes ❤❤❤

Probably best if you check out the other chapters first..... One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten

Chapter Eleven: Don’t let me fall, at least not alone

“Four? Can you hear me?” Billy felt weak, and highly disoriented. His head was spinning, as if he actually was fighting a migraine, unlike the one he was supposed to be faking…. Faking, why was he faking a migraine again? “Four, stay with us!” The voice continued calling out, though why was this person yelling out a number? A name sure, he could understand that. But calling out random numbers? That just served to confuse him more.

“Four, god dammit! Keep your fucking eyes open!” This was a new voice now, one which sounded just as Billy’s eyes had slowly drifted closed against the harsh fluorescent lights above him. How strange, surely these people weren’t addressing him were they?

“Four, please just stay with us a little longer! Five, how are you going with those injections?” The same voice from before was firing orders, her voice holding an edge of fear and concern. Suddenly a shadow appeared above his closed eyes, and carefully he peeled them open, relieved to not be greeted with bright lights, and instead by a shadowed figure. “Billy, please just keep your eyes open for me. You’re going to be fine, I swear.” She was whispering to him, or at least that’s what it sounded like. Though it was hard to be sure, especially as he struggled to keep his eyes from falling shut once more.

How had things turned out like this? The last thing he could recall, was speaking with a woman dressed in white at a reception desk. Then it had all gone blank for him.

*****

You paced around the small living room of the house you had all been calling base for the past few weeks, sucking in deep breath after deep breath, all the while clutching your arms around yourself in a tight embrace. “Nope, I can’t do it. I cannot do this guys!”

Two looked up at you from her gossip magazine, having taken great pleasure in the abundance of French reading material. She was the only one of you in the group to have settled into your temporary accommodation, and was fitting in with the locals perfectly. Rolling her eyes at your outburst, she returned to her reading. It wasn’t that she was being unsupportive, far from it actually. It was just that she had reached her limit of words of support, forty odd minutes ago, at the beginning of your breakdown.

“Yes, you can. You know you can! We’ve been over the plan hundreds of times now, everything is in place. Weapons are stored in the hospital, the Lushnick’s are there, we’ve seen them! Everything is working out according to plan. Four will be on his way to Emergency within a few hours, then it’s all up to us. We can’t leave him.” It was One’s turn to play reassurer this time around, and he was the first to raise Four as if knowing it would get a rise out of you.

You whirl on the spot, eyes growing wide and pupils blown. “I never suggested we leave Four! I ju– I just don’t know if this mission is a good idea is all?”

One sighed, squaring his shoulders before smoothing his hands down his turquoise scrubs. “Eight, if you had one shot, or one opportunity. To seize everything you ever wanted in one moment, would capture it? Or just let it slip?”

You stare at One, blinking slowly as silence fills the room. “Is – Was that Eminem?” You stammer, shaking your head gently, as if to clear the fog which had settled there. Surely you were mistaken, One couldn’t be quoting Lose yourself, right?....

“Does it make it any better or worse knowing this isn’t the first time he’s used that as a motivational speech?” Seven grins, winking at you impishly.

“I think what makes it worse is knowing that no matter what reaction he got last time, he still decided to try it again!”

“Touché, and dude, get yourself a better speech already!” Seven smirks, patting One on the shoulder as he walks by and towards the kitchen. His uniform shirt half buttoned as he goes.

“Why does everyone know that song straight away?” One groans, looking genuinely confused.

“Because it’s the bloody 2020’s! And not to hate on Slim or anything, but for the love of god, replace your ipod shuffle, and listen to some new music. Please!” You plead, as the startling thought of One thinking lose yourself was a new song creeped its way into your mind, causing you to shudder.

Five steps out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam billowing out behind her. Looking like the absolute goddess she is, with her hair wrapped in a fluffy towel, and a robe concealing her, she fixes you with a strong look. “Eight. You are ready for this. Upon our first mission, we were all terrified. But we pulled through, one way or another we did what needed to be done, and look where we are now. I know what you’re feeling, we all do. We’ve all been there, trust me. But the only way this will work, the only way we will be able to get to the Lushnick’s, is if we stick together and work this mission just as we’ve planned. That means all of us. We can’t be a member short, not this time.” Without waiting for your response, Five walks away, closing a bedroom door behind her.

You have no response, no witty retort. Nothing. Not that it would matter, Five wasn’t there to hear it anyway. Chewing on your bottom lip, you turn back to One, who still looked somewhat put out by your ipod comment. “Has anyone seen my uniform?”

*****

Just after 11am, Billy made his way to the hospital and into the Emergency department, cradling his head between his palms, and groaning in mock agony. His earpiece was safely tucked in his ear, providing him contact with his team. Contact which he had been severely missing these past few weeks. At first it had been bearable, what with your secret texts on your burner phone. But when One had arrived at the safe house, it had been harder to sneak messages, until finally they had ceased all together. But hearing your voice now, ringing through his ears, he felt like he was home. Despite walking into a hospital.

“Genevieve Lushnick is on the move. Last seen leaving Ward 11A.” You advise everyone.

“She finished her rounds in Paediatrics much earlier, not sure where she’s headed now.” Five recalls, the sounds of crying infants in the background of her voice.

“Usually her roster would have her checking on Geriatrics in Ward 7B next. But She’s already been there. That was her second visit of the day.” Seven advises, though he sounds confused. To be fair, so does everyone else. Genevieve was changing up her routine, something she hadn’t done at all during their surveillance of her. So why now?

“Hold on, let me see if I can track her down through the live camera feeds.” You suggest, the sounds of your fingers flying across a keyboard breaking the silence which followed.

Billy’s concentration on the conversation happening in his ear is cut off by a woman dressed in white sat at the Emergency reception desk. A nurse from the looks of her. “Bonjour, comment puis-je vous aider?” She blinks wide amber eyes up at Billy, who stares back confusedly.

“Uh, En-English?” A part of him wants to chastise himself for not learning French for this mission. But knowing he was playing the part of a tourist he allowed himself some leeway in the preparation department.

The nurse smiles further, though the more teeth she shows the more forced it looks. “Of course. How may I help you today sir?”

“I just flew in a few days ago, and I have an awful headache. I’ve never experienced anything like it before. All lights are too bright, I feel weak, my head is pounding, and I feel nauseas.”

“Has this just begun, or is this an ongoing issue?”

“No, it just started this morning. I took a couple of paracetamol to help when I woke up, but they’ve done nothing.”

The nurse nods her head, looking down at her computer, as Billy adds in a groan for effect. Just as the nurse asks for personal details, One appears from the behind the desk. “Goodness, what’s wrong with this man? He looks like death on two legs!”

Billy repeats what he had just told the nurse, with One nodding along, and playing every part the good doctor. “You need to be seated immediately. Someone, bring me a wheelchair!” One calls in the direction of the wardsmen who are stood around the waiting room. “Jennifer, you need to be more familiar with signs of a migraine. This young man, what was your name sir?”

“James.” Billy moans, falling back into the wheelchair once it appears behind him, laying his head back for added effect.

“Yes, James could have collapsed at any moment. Please be more mindful next time.” One warns, a harsh glare in his eyes directed at the young nurse.

“O-of course Doctor Cleavers. It won’t happen again.”

Billy can barley contain his smirk at the sound of One’s alias, covering his attempted chuckle with a well-timed groan.

“Does anyone have eyes on Gregory?” Two whispers harshly into her earpiece, causing Billy to flinch slightly, just as one does the same. Christ, Two needs to keep her tone down!

It’s Three’s turn to respond first now, who sounds quite proud of himself as he speaks. “He’s up in theatres, doing God knows what to God knows who.” The sound of a trolley filled with rattling dishes being pushed, barely making his mumbled voice audible.

One moves around behind Billy, kicking up the brake on the wheelchair, and pushing him towards the swipe pass activated doors, leading to the Emergency treatment area. The deafening silence flowing through both his and Billy’s earpieces cause the two men to glance at each other nervously.

“How long ago did you see Gregory heading to theatres?” You ask, an edge of worry hinting at your tone.

Yet another long pause, until. “During breakfast rounds… I suppose two hours ago, maybe?” Three no longer sounds sure of himself, which sets in a sinking feeling in all those on the team.

“He was scheduled to finish surgery one hour ago. Has anyone seen him this past hour?” You snap back, perhaps more of a bite in your words than you had intended.

“Negative.” Replies One in a quiet voice, while smiling at fellow doctors as he pushed Billy.

“No.” That was Two.

“Nope.” Five now, who had been awfully quiet so far.

“Neither.” Three mumbles, likely feeling as dejected as he sounded.

“Well you know I haven’t.” Billy smirks. It was a risk him speaking to the group like this, but currently with his head tilted back, and staring up at the ceiling as he was being wheeled down a corridor, no one really paid any attention to him.

“I’ve only seen Genevieve. The two haven’t been together all morning sorry.” Seven whispers.

“Fuck me…” You breathe out, slamming your fists down on the desk. “I can’t see either of them on the live feeds!”

Carefully, Billy lifts his head once again, turning over his shoulder to peer up at One, who was frowning and staring dead ahead. “Is there a problem Doctor Cleavers?” He mumbles, keeping the act up for anyone who may pass.

“There very well may be.” One mutters, only glancing down at Billy for a brief moment.

The two continue down the corridor for another few minutes, the bright clinical lights beginning to bring on a genuine headache for Billy now. Finally, they come to a stop in a large treatment room, multiple beds lining the walls, all encircled by blue curtains. Some had been drawn for patient’s privacy, while others remained opened. In the centre of the room was a large desk where Nurses and Doctors hurried to and from, collecting and depositing various prescriptions and clinical orders. “James, are you able to stand to bring yourself over to the bed?” One asks, raising his voice enough to somewhat put on a show for those nearby.

The temptation to ask One to pick him up is almost too great to pass up, but knowing that somehow it would come back to haunt him, Billy opts for standing himself. “I think I can manage, thank you Doc.” Standing slowly, Billy pivots on the spot, and shuffles over to the bed, hoisting himself up and laying back.

“We’ll need to bring your fluids up, I’m worried about you becoming dehydrated. We’ll need to cannulate you. Have you ever had a cannula before?” One asks, waving for a nurse to come and assist him.

“No, I don’t think I have.”

“Not to worry, it’s relatively quick and painless.”

The nurse hurries over, and listens as One fires orders at him, orders which he had picked up from watching medical shows, mostly scrubs…. “We need James on a drip ASAP, get that started now!”

“Right away Doctor Cleavers.” The nurse agrees, before moving off to grab the necessary equipment.

Billy turns his attention to One, raising his eyebrows in concern. “Are you seriously going to stick a needle in me?” He hisses, emerald eyes flashing in fear.

One shrugs lightly, turning away from Billy to keep an eye out for the nurse. “Well, I’m not going to be injecting you. Can’t say the same for the nurse though.”

Billy wants to scream, at no stage during the briefings had there been any mention of him having a needle jabbed into him! Hell, if there had been any discussions of such a thing, he likely would’ve backed out! Perhaps that was why there was no mention? The nurse reappears, and preps his work station, all the while One, or Doctor Cleavers stays around to supervise the proceedings, occasionally chiming in with his theories as to what the cause for his sudden pain could be.

“Four! One! They’re coming!” Your voice breaks through the stinging sensation of the needle, panic flying through Billy’s veins. “The Lushnick’s! I finally found them on the cameras, they’re headed straight for-” Your voice is broken by puffing breaths, and the sound of your feet pounding on the tiles as you sprint from somewhere else in the hospital.

“Emergency.” Billy finishes, as the two people who he had been staring at photographs of for months now, strut into the treatment room, patients and doctors alike parting like the red sea as the couple head towards Billy and One. Four sets of eyes meet, and no member of either team is willing to break concentration.

“We’ve been expecting you.” Genevieve grins, her canine teeth almost too pointed, like fangs brushing against her ruby painted lips.

“Thank you, Eric, you’ve done a wonderful job here.” Gregory turns to the nurse and nods his head, the nurse returning the gesture and leaving the group.

“Eight for Four, come in Four!” Your voice shouts in his ear, causing Billy to flinch away.

“Ah, that must be the rest of your team I take it? Not to worry, we have our people taking care of them as we speak.” Genevieve shrugs, before turning to One. “Seeing as you’re so good at playing Doctor, you’ll be pushing your friend. He won’t be awake much longer. I would hate for him to collapse.”

At these words, Billy shoots up on the bed, his head spinning as he does so. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Genevieve waves him off, her nails painted the same shimmering ruby as her lips. “Surely you don’t expect me to give away our secrets? That’s not how people like us work.”

One steps behind Billy’s bed, and begins driving it forwards, following behind the Lushnick’s with a scowl. Billy could see the wheels in his mind turning, as he tried to formulate a plan of escape, though from every way he looked at it, they were pretty well fucked. He could feel his body growing tired, and his mind becoming clouded and dazed, whatever they had given him, it was taking over his body quickly, and any minute now he would be useless to the team.

*****

Fuck! The entire team had lost the Lushnick’s! How did that even happen? Seven was supposed to be trailing them, he had been doing so every other day perfectly, but what the fuck had gone wrong today? Your fingers fly across the keyboard, frantically switching between all the cameras in the hospital. Some provided a live feed, while others only offered playback, but at this point in time you would take what you could get. Window after window pops open on your monitor, squinting at the slightly pixelated images to try and identify who was being filmed.

“There!” You practically scream, causing one of the guards walking past your office to jump, turning a concerned look your way. “Sorry, just uh – finally got a fly that’s been harassing me all morning.” You blurt out, though with a shrug, the guard walks on, either having bought the lie or not caring enough to question it further. You gaze back at the image on your screen, it was from one of the playback cameras. Both Gregory and Genevieve were spotted seven minutes ago in one of the staff only corridors, leading between the imaging department and emergency. “Seven minutes…. How long does it take to get there?”

“Three! Come in Three!”

“Bloody hell, no need to yell Eight. What is it?”

“On your delivery route, how long does it usually take to get between X-ray and Emergency?”

Three pauses to think, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he does so. “Roughly twenty minutes.”

“We’re fucked.”

“What? What does that mean?!”

You ignore the frantic questions streaming from Three, the others shortly joining in with their own confusion. But you didn’t have time to address their concerns, right now there was only one thing on your mind. Beating the Lushnick’s to the Emergency room. With your heart hammering in your chest, and breathing coming out in desperate gasps you turn back to your computer, snaking your way into the hospital power grid.

You know how to do this, it’s just like what you did for your museum heist way back when you had met One. But for some reason, your brain can’t seem to summon the image of what you need to do. You could try a keyboard smash now that you’re in the controls, but that could seriously damage literally everything… “Come on, just think dammit.” You snarl at yourself, clasping your hands into fists, and pressing them against your temples.

Eyes springing open, you fix a harsh glare at the blinking screen before you, asking for a password. “Y’all Lushnick’s are fucked.” The password it simple to guess, trust the Lushnick’s to use their fucking last name as a password. They may be smart in what they do, but they sure as hell know nothing about internet security. The screen turns black, with a 3D model of the hospital slowly building itself on your screen. With each scroll of your mouse, the model shifts, and enlarges to a new section of the hospital. A blinking blue bar in the top left of the screen offers a text space, and going on a hunch, you type in ‘Geriatrics’ and press enter. The model disintegrates into tiny pixels, before rebuilding just the section you had searched. “Brilliant…” You whisper to yourself.

The geriatrics ward of the hospital consisted of one main power source, with a backup which would boot up and provide energy to the most necessary equipment and lights in the event of the main grid failing. “Five for Eight, come in?”

“Eight here, what’s going on?”

“I’m being followed. There’s security blocking off just about every exit on this floor, and no matter where I go, there’s someone behind me, or waiting for me.”

“Has anyone else got this issue?” You call out, eagerly awaiting replies. There’s a resounding yes in response, with the only discrepancy coming from Seven.

“A couple of guards caught up to me in 11B, they’ve brought me along to help catch the infiltrators.”

“So they don’t know you’re a part of this?”

“Seems like it. And from what I gather, they aren’t onto you either…”

“Perfect, Seven stay with your team. There’s about to be a Code Blue in geriatrics. I’ll put the call through to all security to get to the ward, that should give the rest of you time to escape. Rendezvous in Staff corridor D.”

You don’t wait to hear the replies from your team, once again your body working quicker than your mind. Your hands already working on shutting down the power to the Geriatrics ward. You should feel worse than you do, you were putting innocent people’s lives at risk. But the one thing which had been drilled into you from the begging was, the team comes first wherever possible. It was Seven who insisted on this. But who were you to argue with him?

Your eyes are glued to your screen as you watch a warning light appear over the 3D model you had been working with. ‘WARNING! Main power grid will be turned off. WARNING!’ It was rather polite of the system to warn you of the damage you were about to inflict, however the flashing red image did little to stop you. With one final mouse click, a new pop up appeared on your screen. This one somehow even more urgent, despite no red flashing lights. ‘WARNING! Main power grid for geriatrics has now been turned off. Back up system now operating.’ An alarm was blaring throughout your office, warning you and all security who remained nearby of a system failure. “All units. Repeat, all units to Geriatric ward immediately. Power failure. All units report.” You instruct through the P/A system.” Instantly, you watch as two security guards’ race past your office, down the hall and towards the stairwell.

“Five, have they gone? Can you get out?” You ask carefully, keeping your voice low in case of any security stragglers.

“Yeah, they’ve all gone now. Jesus Eight, what kind of a system failure did you make?” You can hear her laughing now, though you know the doctor side of her is genuinely concerned as to what chaos you had caused.

“Nothing that should cause any real harm, but it’s done the trick.” You smirk, locking your computer and stepping out of the office.

You knew the security alert wouldn’t deter the Lushnick’s, hell even if the building was on fire, you doubt they would stray from their current target. But if your calculations were correct, you still had at least five minutes to warn One and Four of their impending arrival. Your heavy combat boots pound against the tiles, sprinting your way towards corridor D, praying the others would already be there, or at least arriving soon. Pressing your index finger against your earpiece, your voice sounding frantic even to you. “Four! One! They’re coming!”. They had time, they had to have time….. But with no response from either, you try again. “The Lushnick’s! I finally found them on the cameras, they’re headed straight for Emergency!”

Nothing, not a single word from Four or One. This wasn’t right, they were supposed to have time still, plenty of time to get out of Emergency and meet you and the team. But as you round the corner to Staff corridor D, there’s no One, and sure as hell no Billy. “Thank God you got here alright!” Five gasps, running over to you and wrapping her arms around you. You had never known her to be much of a hugger, but you suppose high stakes situations like this could change a person. Checking over her shoulder you spot Three, Seven, and Two all talking amongst themselves. “Where’re Four and One?” You ask timidly, stepping away from Five’s embrace slowly, and looking between her and the rest of the team.

No one seems inclined to answer you, which only serves to send a deep chill down your spine, and for a solid mass to feel as if it had been lodged in your throat. Pressing on your earpiece again, you try calling for the two again. “Eight for Four and One, come in both of you.”

There’s again no reply, and your heart feels like it’s being strangled. “I heard some of the guards talking. There was talk of a couple of intruders being found…” Seven begins, his dark eyes meeting yours, with a look which could only be described as true sympathy.

Sharp, electric static echoes through your teams ears, all earpieces but yours going haywire for five seconds, before silence once more. “What the fuck was that?” Three snarls, ripping the piece out and glaring at it between his large fingers.

An all too familiar voice speaks slowly now in your ear, but as you look around you realise this voice was only speaking to you. No one else could hear her. “Well, who do we have here. You’re not the Doctor, I would recognise her voice anywhere. And you’re obviously not the French one, unless you’ve managed to disguise your accent, which I truly doubt. So who are you…”

“I’m not playing any of your sick little games Genevieve. Where is the rest of my team?” You hiss, causing the others to look up and over to you.

“Eight? What’s going on?” Two asks carefully, stepping towards you slowly.

“Who are you talking to? Three asks, lifting his brows up.

“Ah, see. There’s the French one! I knew you had to be someone else! Eight was it? Oh how interesting. So what, did another one of your team die? Is that why you’re here?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about! I’m not someone’s replacement.”

“Oh aren’t you? Well that just makes this even more special then doesn’t it? Tell me, which one of these charming young men is Four who you seem so concerned about? Is it this ruggishly handsome tall fellow who keeps glaring at me? Or is it the pretty blonde, with the gorgeous green eyes, who’s having a hard time staying awake right now?” It’s an involuntary reaction, but at the mention of Four, your breath catches in your throat, causing a small gasp to escape your lips. “Ah, the blonde it is..”

“What have you done to him? What can’t he stay awake?”

“My my, so many questions! If you didn’t want anything to happen to him, then maybe you shouldn’t have used him a bait silly little girl!”

“Where the fuck is he?”

“I suppose I could tell you, it would be rather enjoyable to see the look on your face as we operate on him, while there’s nothing you can do about it…”

You don’t wait to hear anymore, ripping the earpiece out and throwing it as far down the corridor as possible. “Theatres. The Lushnick’s have Four and One. They’re about to do something to Four.” You gasp out, barely able to catch your breath, as tears prick the backs of your eyes.

“Shhh, Eight it’s going to be fine, I promise.” Five offers, soothing her palm down your back gently.

“Don’t you dare make empty promises.” You growl, shaking her off and racing down the hall, towards the stairwell.

*****

“What have you given him?” One growls, glaring between both the Lushnick’s and Four who lay on an operating table, barely moving and occasionally groaning. He rattled his arm against the handcuffs which kept him bound to a side railing. He was completely useless, both to himself and to his teammate.

Genevieve turned to him now, regarding him with a cold stare. “I hardly see why that matters now? You can’t do anything to help him, especially not in your current predicament.” She chuckles darkly, before turning her attention back to Gregory. The man barely spoke a word, but the sick sadistic smile which had been growing across his lips these past few minutes, was enough for One to get a better sense of his character.

“At least tell me what you’re going to do to him!” One tries again. He was running out of questions, and by the looks of things, time too. He had hoped he would be able to keep the Lushnick’s occupied long enough for you and the rest of the team to get here, but ever since Genevieve finished her conversation with you, she seemed all the more eager to get this started.

“Well that’s the fun part. Greg doesn’t know yet! Here’s how this works. Greg cuts the patient open, has a bit of a poke and prod around. Takes out what he wants, and then stitches ‘em back up! You never know what will be taken!” Genevieve grins, pressing a red kiss to Gregory’s cheek, who only grins broader.

One has to fight back to urge to both vomit, and throw punches, instead opting to glare at the duo. “You’re both sick, and you’re going to rot in hell once we’re through with you!”

Genevieve waves him off, turning her attention to Four, who was more unconscious than conscious now. Though he occasionally made a slight jolt, or mumbled a quiet sentence. “Should we wait until he is a bit more under before beginning the procedure?”

Gregory turned to her, lifting a brow in curiosity. “And risk the others getting here, before it’s too late for them to rescue him?”

Just as his words die off, a loud crash against the operating theatre door causes both Doctor’s to glance towards the sound. The crash was quickly followed by another, before a gunshot can be heard echoing throughout the circular room, the sound of a heavy body hitting the ground following. “Greg…..” Genevieve whispers, turning to the Doctor, as the double doors slam open. The metallic hingers screeching under the sudden movement.

“Where the fuck is my boyfriend?” You scream, pistol raised, and aimed directly at Genevieve Lushnick. Seven and Three stand beside you, each holding a gun of their own, with Three aimed at the nurses in the theatre, and Seven poised to fire upon Gregory. Two and Five stand either side of them, aiming at the guards behind them who were writhing on the ground, though they both remained vigilant for any further arrivals.

Gregory lifts a scalpel and hovers it directly above Four’s abdomen, poised and ready to cut. “Ah, you must be Eight.” Genevieve grins, taking a careful step towards you, as Gregory lowers the scalpel closer to Four’s bare skin.

Seven aims at the wall just above where Gregory stands, the bullet ripping a hole in the sterile room, causing Gregory to jump back almost an entire foot. “Don’t even think about trying that again.” Seven hisses, fixing the Doctor with a glare.

“Now now, there will be no need for violence.” Genevieve begins, before taking a look at the guards who were slowly bleeding out in the entry way. “At least, no more violence that is.” She steps forwards again, fixing you with an interested eye. “My goodness you look familiar. Have we met before?”

“I’m positive I would recall meeting someone as wicked and vile as you.” You spit, keeping your pistol trained on your target, your eyes following her every step.

“Hm, yes I suppose so.” You were now engaged in an odd type of dance, Genevieve was slowly circling around you, and you followed her every move, moving in a circle on the spot. “This is where the negotiations begin, I imagine.”

“There will be no negotiations. You tell us what you gave Four, you let him go, and we take you to the authorities who will make sure you both rot in a prison cell for the rest of your sorry lives.”

Genevieve shakes her head no, still walking in her slow circle around you. From an outside perspective, it was that of a lion circling its prey, though to your perspective, you had the upper hand. Or at least, you had the weapon. “No, you see that doesn’t work for us.”

“Fine. You tell us what you gave Four, you let him go, and we kill you both right here, right now.”

Genevieve shakes her head again, looking over to Gregory who was clutching the scalpel for dear life. “Eight, something’s wrong…” One calls, looking over to Four. The young man was beginning to convulse on the operating table. His skin was flushed in tiny pinprick sized red dots, and his chest was rising and falling in rapid laboured breaths.

You chance a glance over to Four, and your heart stops. Something was horrendously wrong. “Five, go check on him!” You screech, turning your full attention back on Genevieve as Five races past you. In a split second, you pocket your gun in the back of your jeans, and lurch forwards, fists griping into the collar of Genevieve’s shirt. You hold the fabric with such ferocity the seams popping in her shirt is almost audible, but your blood is pumping too loudly in your ears for you to hear. “Tell me what you gave him!” You’re practically screaming now, directly in her face, yet Genevieve doesn’t seem phased at all. She was used to outbursts such as this, granted they were typically from a grieving mother or father, and not someone threatening her life, but none the less, it felt like just another day in the office.

“Not until we strike a deal!”

There’s only one thing running through your mind as your eyes lock onto Genevieve’s, the training fight you had had with Three all those months ago. Only this time, there was no one fighting back, you had the power. Your leg steps behind Genevieve’s left, and you sweep out with your entire weight, releasing her collar just as her knees gives way and buckle beneath her weight, and she crumbles to the ground bellow you, her back smacking the hard tiled floor with a crack. Instantly, you’re on top of her, kneeling down against her stomach and pinning her to the ground.

“You bitch!” She shrieks, coughing as she attempts to regain the breath you had knocked out of her, though with almost your entire weight leaning into her now, it was unlikely she would.

“I’m terribly sorry. I guess I lost my footing.” You smirk, pressing your knee harder against her. Causing Genevieve to cry out in pain.

Gregory races forwards, his scalpel dropping to the ground in his haste. “Get off of her!” He calls, wrapping her palms over your shoulders and attempting to tear you away.

Three steps in, shoulder barging him in the stomach and sending the Doctor crashing to the ground beside his wife.

“Guys! I think Four’s having a severe allergic reaction to whatever concoction he was pumped full of!” Five yells, a stethoscope looped around her neck, as her frantic eyes meet yours. “Is he allergic to anything you know of?”

You stare back at Five, your mind going completely blank, you feel like a deer caught in headlights. Surely Four would’ve told you if he had any allergies, right? And perhaps he had done just that, but standing here now, with all hope resting on your shoulders, you couldn’t think of a single thing which may be useful in this situation. Shaking your head, a growing sense of dread filling you, as the rest of the team remain silent. “I- I don’t know….”

“I can give him an Epipen, but I need to know what he’s either had, or what he’s allergic to so I can get him the proper antidote!”

Tearing your eyes away from Five, you look over to One, who not only felt but looked entirely useless, chained to a handrail on the opposite side of the room. Your eyes searching his for an answer. Your mission was to capture the Lushnick’s, and right now, that was exactly what you had done. But if you kept them as they were now, as prisoners, Four could die….. Was that a sacrifice you were willing to make?

All One could offer was a gentle half smile, shrugging his shoulders slightly in his compromising position. He couldn’t offer you an answer, hell you couldn’t even offer yourself an answer….

Carefully, you release some of the pressure from Genevieve’s stomach, just enough for her to look up at you in surprise, blinking wide eyes up at you. “Tell me what you gave him, and we’ll let you both go.” You mutter, fighting back the urge to swallow back your own words.

A wicked smirk unravels over Genevieve’s lips. The kind of smirk which one would associate with a wicked stepmother, or evil queen from a Disney film. “Deal.” You release more pressure from your hold on her, until she can breathe properly once more, and Three steps away from Gregory, giving the man a swift boot to the hip just to make his point. “We gave him a combination of penicillin, general anaesthetic, codeine…” Genevieve stands, as does Gregory, both stepping backwards towards the door. Your team moving out of their way upon looking at you for clarification. No one wanted to move, that much was obvious in the frantic looks the others were throwing your way. But at the same time, they all knew the price they would have to pay if they kept the Lushnick’s as they were now. A price no one was prepared for.

“There was some paracetamol mixed in too….” Genevieve continues. They were at the doorway now, hand in hand, gazing behind themselves to make sure the way was clear. “Hm, what else?”

“Gosh, I just can’t recall.” Gregory shrugs, an evil smirk crawling its way over his lips. His eyes glowing with malice. “I simply have no idea what ese they’re may have been!” He calls with enthusiasm, before both pivot on the spot, racing from the theatre.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” You shriek, your sight going red as you sprint after them down the corridor, pulling your gun out as you give chase. Genevieve looks at you over her shoulder as they reach the stairwell, regarding you with a look of familiarity.

“Eight! Eight, it’s not worth it!” Two yells from the doorway, watching you with a deep concern. She knew what you were capable of, your whole team did, but not the Lushnick’s. And from the looks of things, they didn’t care either. You stop halfway down the corridor, releasing the safety on your pistol and firing three shots at the door Gregory hand his hand pressed against. He jumps backwards in shock, glaring back at you, pure fury masking his features.

“Yes Eight, listen to your friend. She seems to be the brains of this group. We wouldn’t want you getting hurt now would we?” Genevieve snarls, baring too many teeth to be considered even remotely friendly.

Aiming the pistol once more, you line up your sights, finger hovering over the trigger. One shot, that’s all it would take. A bullet to the middle of Genevieve’s forehead would kill her instantly, and Gregory would have no choice but to surrender. “Are you going to kill me? Shall I say hello to Kellie when I see her?”

You stare at Genevieve, her words ringing through your ears, and sending a jolt of shockwaves straight down your spine. In that moment of hesitation, the Lushnick’s push through the stairwell door, and flee.

You’re paralysed on the spot, staring after where the Lushnick’s had stood moments ago. They recognised you. They knew who you were and why you wanted revenge. But how? It had been years since you last saw them, you had been a child! Surely you looked different now from back then? But they knew you! They remembered Kellie… A gun shot rings down the corridor, the sound of metal clanging to the tiled floor following directly after.

“Eight! What happened?” One yells, now free of his handcuffs, and jogging down the corridor to meet you. You hadn’t moved. Still stood with your arms raised, and gun pointed to where Genevieve had stood.

“They – They knew me.” You gulp, putting the pistol away with shaking hands, and turning to look up at One. Tears were brimming in your eyes, though you refused to let them fall. At least not yet.

“What? But how?”

“I don’t know! That’s the fucking problem.” You hiss, storming away from One back towards the theatre. Once back, chaos surrounded Four, with everyone racing around him handing various different equipment and medications to Five, as she prepped some kind of antidote perhaps. “How’s he doing?”

Five looks up at you, regarding you with a careful mix of sympathy and hope. “The EpiPen gave him enough adrenaline to wake up again, though he’s extraordinarily groggy. Now I’m just tyring to figure out exactly what to give him to counteract the other shit that’s pumping through him.”

You nod your head in thanks, knowing you would find the time to thank Five properly once all of this was over. “What can I do to help?”

“We need to try and keep him awake, he keeps coming in and out of consciousness.” Three replies, as he passes Five a vile of clear liquid.

“Four? Can you hear me?” You ask carefully, stepping over to him and squeezing his hand tightly. His warm fingers curl around yours in reply, before falling limp against your palm.

“He’s out again! Wake him up!” Five yells to those in the room.

“Four, stay with us!” You plead, pressing a soft kiss against his knuckles. To hell with anyone seeing the act of intimacy, if One wanted to give you shit for it, he could do so when you were all in the clear. Though checking the room, you can’t find One or Two for that matter, they must still be in the corridor where you had left them?

Slowly, Four blinked his eyes open, frantic emerald flickering around the room and searching for something, or someone. Just as his eyes landed on yours, they fell shut again, and his body spasmed once more.

“Four, god dammit! Keep your fucking eyes open!” It was Seven yelling this time, his voice booming above all other noises in the vast room.

“Four, please just stay with us a little longer! Five, how are you going with those injections?” You can hear the tears in your voice as you beg for him to open his eyes again, but they remain closed. Turning to look at Five, she looks frazzled. Her hair which had started in a neat, slicked back bun, was now hanging loose down her back, and was wild with frizz. She looks up at you, not quite in a glare, but with enough ferocity behind the look that you know better than to bother her anymore.

Leaning down, you card your fingers through Four’s blonde curls, brushing away a few stray locks which were plastered to his forehead with sweat. Barely more than a slit, his eyes open and stare directly up at you. “Billy, please just keep your eyes open for me. You’re going to be fine, I swear.”

Three looks over at you, his ears perking up at the use of his teammates real name. It was one thing to use names in privacy back home. But during a mission, however failed that mission may be, now that was new. Shaking his head, he spots One and Two heading over, but with grim looks on their faces. “What’s the plan?” Two asks, her eyes locking with Three’s.

“There isn’t one, not really. We just need to keep him awake.” Five sighs. “I think I know what to give him to help, but I want him awake when I administer it. If it works correctly then it should knock him out for a bit. If he’s already unconscious when I give it to him, then I won’t know if it’s doing more harm than good.”

One turns his attention over to you now, lifting one brow as you meet his gaze. “Any idea what will keep him awake?”

You pause, clutching Four’s hand tightly, and staring blankly at One. “Trivia. He loves random trivia facts!” You blurt out after a beat of pause. All eyes turn to you in surprise, no one quite knowing how to respond to this information. You shrug lightly, averting your gaze from One’s. “We play a lot of trivial pursuit back at base.”

Seven is the first to break the silence, though not to mock you as you had thought would be the case. Instead, he looks down at Four. “Hey mate, did you know high heels were originally invented for men. Imagine Three chasing down the Lushnick’s in stilettos.” He laughs, which causes Four to stir slightly, his eyes opening just a tad.

“Fuck, you’re right. That did work.” One blinks in surprise, running a hand through his short hair.

“Of course it did. I know Four, I know what works on him.” You mutter quietly.

Without looking up, Five smirks to herself. “You sure do kid.”

There’s no fighting the embarrassment which claws within you. Perhaps now wasn’t the time to be making suggestive comments… “Alright, keep ‘em coming guys!”

“Um okay…. Uh, Canada has more lakes than anywhere in the world.” Seven offers unsurely.

“Those greedy fucks….” Four moans, causing everyone to pause, before laughing quietly. Good, his sense of humour was still intact, that’s surely a good sign!

Two steps closer, and looks down at Four in deep concentration, before leaning back slightly. “David Bowie, he did not in fact have two different coloured eyes. One of his pupils was permanently dilated after he was punched in the eye during an argument over a girl.”

“Bugger me, really?” Five pipes up, both brows raised in surprise. “I always thought he had one blue and one brown eye.” She shrugs, priming a syringe carefully.

Slowly, Four was waking up. Granted he wasn’t exactly moving very much, but his eyes were opening, and he was grinning somewhat at the facts that were being thrown at him.

Staring down at Billy, something pops into your mind, a fact which you had learnt years ago at school but never shared with anyone else. “Okay, here’s one for you. Madonna’s like a prayer, is actually not about praying, it’s about giving someone a blowjob!”

Silence follows, and you swear you could hear crickets chirping. “Why the fuck is that something you know?” Four groans quietly, his eyes searching all over your face, before finally meeting your own.

“Shit, I don’t know… I also didn’t think that would be the fact that would wake you up the most! I was hoping someone else would say something after me!” You grumble through a grin.

“Nothing could possibly beat that fact.” Four chuckles weakly, squeezing your hand as tightly as he could muster.

Five turns around, holding a full syringe in her right hand, and a sterile swab in the other. “Glad you’re awake. What I’m about to give you however, is going to send you right back to sleep. Sorry about that. But I assure you, next time you wake up, you’re going to feel amazing.” She grins, ripping open the swab, and swiping it over the inside of his elbow.

For the second time that day, Four winces in pain as a needle plunges through his skin. Squeezing his eyes shut against both the sight of the injection, and the stinging pain. Whatever Five had given him was fast acting, and soon enough Four finds it nearly impossible to reopen his eyes now that he’s closed them.

“Move him into the wheelchair there, it’ll be easier than carrying him out of here.” You suggest, pointing to the blue cushioned wheelchair in the corner of the room.

One, Three and Seven all nod their agreement, and move around the operating table, getting into position to lift Four. “Count of three…. One, two, three.” Three instructs, as the men lift Four who simply groans in protest. You watch his limp body be carried across the room, your heart aching at the sight. ‘It could be worse… He’s just asleep.’ You repeat to yourself, once again fighting back the tears which had remained ever present at the corners of your eyes.

Three pushes the wheelchair as you all follow in a daze. Your mind felt as if it were a million miles away from the current situation. For the briefest of moments, you had genuinely considered murdering Genevieve. Never once had you thought yourself capable of doing such a thing. But yet, there you had been. Gun poised, and trigger finger rearing to go. If it hadn’t of been for her words, then she would be dead…

The escape route was an easy one, especially with security still trying to figure out what had gone wrong on the geriatrics ward still. Swiping the keys to an ambulance at the docking bay, you load Four inside the back with Five to monitor him. One drives, Three and Two sitting beside him up the front. While you and Seven sit quietly in the back. Occasionally your focus returns to Four, but mostly you stare out of the back windows, watching as traffic zips around you. You nearly killed someone today… What sort of a person were you becoming? And did you even like the person you were turning into?

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love-fireflysong · 3 years

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yIt's done. It took me waaaay to long to write this piece out but between June and my computer apparently deciding to kick me in the teeth this month, the fact I made it to 5 full squares completed anyways I will gladly take as a victory! And, just fyi, this WILL be the last piece for this month. I know that there is still another four days left of June, but I am sick and tired of dealing with my keyboard so this is the last fic you're gonna see from me until I get a new laptop hopefully fairly soon. (Unless I decide that I'm desperate enough to try and write things out on my tablet of course...)

Anyways, the First Date trope was specifically requested by @jesus-hotsauce-christmas-cake when I let her know that the one she did guess (road trip) was going to be a second chapter of a twoshot. Which you still might get because I'm very likely going to be sharing the short little summary blurbs I had written down for each trope so people can very easily bully me into writing them anyways if people still wanted to read them. And even though it would be like months and months late, still post them under this bingo board because I can and I had a cool idea for what I was doing with the colours and layout before life decided to say 'NO!' in a very firm voice. (Unless of course the three lovely ladies that came up with this idea in the first place say no obviously)

Rambling over though now I promise. Chocolate Covered Confessions can be read over and AO3 of course, with the full fic also under the readmore as well.

Chocolate Covered Confessions

Trope: First Date Fandom: Until Dawn Characters: Ashley Brown, Chris Hartley Words: 8214 Rating: General (though reader beware there is some almost scandalous hand holding and a couple of scandalously public kisses. You have been warned...) Authors Notes: Oh look, more chrashley fluff. Who da thunk it? Pride month? What pride month? This is just me apparently figuring out how many different ways I can get Chris and Ash to confess their feelings. Because you only read like three of them, I still have another two waiting in the wings. Plus at least three others if you count climbing chrash lol.

Something was...weird. It wasn't something that Ashley could put her finger on just yet, but something was definitely off that was for sure. The problem of course was that she didn't even know where to start looking in the first place, because for the most part her day had been extraordinarily ordinary.

She, Chris, and Josh had planned to go and see a movie Saturday morning a few days back and then hang out the rest of the day. But seeing as they were, you know, best friends that certainly wasn't the issue. Not even close. They always made plans to do stuff like that together. And yeah, okay, so maybe Josh had 'coincidentally' texted them just before the movie started to let them know that something unavoidable had come up and he wasn't going to be able to meet up with them. And when her and Chris had brought up just waiting until a later showing when he was free, he had immediately been quick to affirm that nope, he was going to be busy the whole rest of the day actually. So the two of them could continue with their original plans and they could make it up to him another time.

While certainly suspicious, that wasn't what was wrong though. Josh had been flaking out on their plans more and more, especially when it was plans that took up an entire day. Ashley Brown wasn't stupid. No siree Bob she was not! She knew exactly what Josh was trying to do by leaving her to spend the day with Chris. Alone . And she appreciated it (she really did!), but if Chris was going to make a move then he would have done it ages and ages ago, because she sure as hell wasn't going to do it! Ashley Brown wasn't stupid, but she also wasn't exactly what you would call brave either.

Not that Chris had seemed to notice what Josh was pulling though, he had just sighed and rolled his eyes with a grumbled "fucking typical", and then the two of them had entered the theater to watch the movie. And as per their usual shtick when Josh wasn't there with them, Chris paid for the tickets while she paid for the food and drinks. Or, at least, that was how it normally went. Instead, when she had decided to take a run to the bathroom while he held their spot in the long concession line, she had come back to Chris waiting for her with the pop and popcorn already in hand. After brushing off her flustered apologies, he had explained that shortly after she had left, another cashier had popped on till so the line had gone down in half the time either had expected. And it seemed like a dick move to just wait there until she came back so he had just decided to get the food instead.

She still felt a little guilty about it honestly, even after swearing that she would get both the tickets and food next time.

And, to be completely fair to Josh, he hadn't exactly been missing out on a lot by skipping out on the movie. It wasn't a horror flick (he would never even think of skipping out on that after all) so it wasn't one that he would feel the need to make the two of them watch again with him. Which was more than fine honestly, because if she was to describe the movie in a single word, well, that word would definitely have been 'dreadful'. If she was given a few more words, then she would have easily elaborated and stated that it was 'a boring, plot-hole driven mess, with only extremely over-the-top action scenes and explosions every five minutes to carry any semblance of the extremely loosely written plot'. In other words, she had lost interest in the movie barely half an hour in, and considering that Chris had started scrolling through his phone bored, she wasn't alone in this boat either.

Still, Ashley had resolved herself to sit through this over-budgeted explosion fest if only because movie tickets were horribly expensive. Not to mention the fact that Chris had shelled out money for both the movie and the food. But then he had turned to her, asked if she was as bored to tears as he was, and once he got that confirmation, asked if she wanted to just ditch the movie entirely. And she did—she really, really did—but didn't want Chris to waste the money he had spent more. And then yet another explosion...exploded on screen, and she realized that she was wasting precious hours of her life that could be used to do something more fun and less mind-numbingly boring.

Like watching paint dry. That at least had a semi-cohesive plot.

And so the two of them had walked out, continuing to share the extra buttered popcorn between them (the movie may have been awful, but the popcorn certainly wasn't) as they left the movie theater behind and wandered into the nearby mall. That wasn't the strange thing either. The mall and subsequent window shopping had absolutely been part of their day plans after, even if those had been unexpectedly pushed forward a couple of hours.

Admittedly the art show that the mall was running in one of the empty storefronts was unexpected, but it had been simply a nice surprise and a great way to kill time. So after paying the $2 entrance fee, the two of them had continued to share the popcorn as they looked at some of the paintings and sculptures that had been on display, giggling childishly at most of them. And okay, so one of the curators had been glaring at them( or rather, at their greasy, butter-covered fingers) the whole time, but that had just been a little rude and insulting. Not strange. And that had stopped almost the moment they had run out of popcorn, Ashley nudging him in the stomach with her elbow as she licked her fingers clean, and the two of them laughing under their breaths at the curator who had looked exceptionally much more at ease once Chris had crumpled the empty bag into a ball.

The rest of their day in the mall had just been spent following the rest of their day's plan, wandering from shop to shop and browsing at all the things that caught their eyes, and then taking a break after a few hours to have a late lunch in the food court. The two of them checked out another couple of stores, these ones to try and get some ideas for Josh's birthday in another month, before moving onto the small arcade on the top floor. As part of their deal and agreement since it had just been Josh and Chris (Ashey not joining the duo until five years later), Chris bought the tokens needed while she scouted out the various games for an empty console and claimed it until he could join her in another couple of minutes.

They spent the next hour in there, trying to beat each other or work together depending on the game in question. They almost never played a game twice before moving onto the next one, in hopes to both try as many games as possible before their self imposed hour ended and to see if they could beat their previous high scores or make it onto the leaderboard in only a single try. But as the hour came to a close, they both made their way over to their final game: one of the racing simulators scattered around the arcade. And as had been done for ten years now, played to determine which of them would be paying for the tokens next time they came.

And once the race ended, with Ashley winning by photo finish for the third time in a row (and celebrating her winning streak by maturely sticking out her tongue and doing an awkward little shimmy dance in the seat while Chris jokingly sulked and pouted), they had finally left the mall altogether and got into Chris's truck. There, he had surprised Ashley with the novel she had been eyeing in the bookstore (or at least, eyeing closer than all the rest she had picked up) and that he had somehow been able to buy without her noticing. And that certainly hadn't been weird, because it had been so exceptionally sweet of him, sweet enough that Ashley had so badly wished that she could thank him properly. But as mentioned before, Ashley Brown was a coward pure and simple, so she had just clutched the book to her chest and beamed at Chris in heartfelt thanks instead.

He may have said something in reply, but Ashley had already settled into the passenger seat and opened to the first page of the book, so she was already long gone. A fact that Chris had anticipated, if the light chuckle he had let out before starting the truck meant anything. And no, Ashley reading a book while Chris drove them to their usual game store across town was not the strange thing either. If Chris hadn't wanted her to read on the drive over and talk to him, then he never would have given her the book now of all times. He would have waited until he had dropped her off home, or not even bought the book in the first place. After over a half a decade of friendship, if anyone knew what would happen after giving Ashley Brown a new book, it was Chris Hartley.

The drive over is done quicker then she had expected, and even then Chris still hadn't let her know that they had arrived until she had finished her chapter. Yes he had certainly teased her about it the entire time, joking about how she would never find someone as understanding of her reading habits then him (he didn't know how right he was, that she didn't want to find anyone else), but the fact that he had just continued to let the music play in the truck and distracted himself on his phone was so unbearably sweet that she decided to let it lie.

The fact that Ashley and Chris hung around in the game shop comparing dice and looking at new books while wincing over the prices for nearly two hours wasn't what was off either. Hell, if anything the fact that they only spent a couple of hours there before leaving was weird! Her, Chris, and Josh could easily spend almost half a day in there flipping through comics and rolling dice to test them out, only leaving because a tired employee was forced to ask them to leave for making too much noise and taking up a table when they weren't playing anything, especially when there was a group that had been waiting for a table for close to an hour now.

Which brought Ashley to where she was right now, sitting at a sticky plastic table under the shade of a cheap umbrella while Chris had run off to get them some ice cream before dropping her off at home. Her new book was open in front of her, the pages crisp white even in the umbrella's shade, but her mind wasn't on the book anymore. A random line had a character mentioning that something had been feeling off all day ever since they woke up ('like everything had been moved three centimeters to the left, so while it all looked normal, nothing felt right anymore'), and Ashley had also realized that hey, wait a second, her day was also feeling just a little wonky too! But no matter how hard she thought about it, she couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was. Today had just been a normal day hanging out with Chris after all. They went to see (and bailed) a movie, spent hours hanging out in the mall and at the game store, and now they were each going back home. Nothing unusual had happened, so why did it feel like something hugely monumental had been going on all day?

"Oi. Earth to Ash, you okay in there?"

A light flick to the center of Ashley's forehead has her blink in surprise, and she finds herself back into the present once again. Chris is standing next to her, carefully balancing the two cones in his right hand and his left ready to flick again if needed, and a bemused smile on his face.

"Oh, uh, sorry Chris. Got a little too into the book I think." She closes the book, not wanting to get melting ice cream all over its crisp white pages (and she really hasn't absorbed a single word for nearly ten minutes now), but Chris doesn't hand her the cone just yet.

"Yeah, I'm not buying that," Chris says as he snorts in disbelief. "I know your 'praise be to books' look, and that was not it. That was your 'head full, too many thoughts' look."

"Excuse me? What? I do not have a reading look! Or a thinking look for that matter!"

"Oh you do. You really, really do. Trust me. You may have been staring at that book but there was no way that you were reading, I would bet my own ice cream here on it." Chris brandishes his double chocolate cone at her, then seems to reconsider and switches to show off her own dipped soft serve that he still has yet to actually let her eat. "Actually, you know what? I would eat your dipped monstrosity if I'm wrong."

Ashley sighs, but she can't keep the smile from her face. "It's not that bad this time, oh my god. It's chocolate ice cream dipped in blueberry syrup. This is actually a normal combination for people who go out of their way to order more exciting cones then two scoops of chocolate." She leans forward and places her elbows on the table to support her head in her hands. "But I wanna see you do it anyway, so tell me exactly why you're so convinced that I wasn't reading."

Chris opens his mouth, but immediately closes it a second later, as though he didn't realize exactly what he had signed himself up for here until now. Ashley of course takes it as a sign of victory. "I knew it. So let's see this Chris, I wanna see you eat something that isn't—"

"When you read you get, like, super attentive." Chris's face is pink, and not looking at her but at the book on the table as he bashfully continues. "You become so drawn in to whatever you're reading that you ignore everything going on around you, because all of your attention is now on that book. Pretty sure a bomb could go off right next to you and you wouldn't even notice sometimes. And it's always so easy to tell what's happening in the book when you're reading too, cause your face is always so expressive. Like your eyes get big when something exciting or surprising happens, and when you're really enjoying whatever it is you're reading, you start giggling like a loon."

Ashley is too stunned and, quite frankly, her heart is beating too fast for her to even think of a proper response to that . She manages to squeak out a quiet little "oh, um" but Chris doesn't notice. Not when he's still babbling and not looking at her at all.

"But when you get deep in thought, you're not like that at all. All of your attention goes inward, and everything around you disappears cause all the important stuff is going on inside your head right now. Your mouth falls open just a little, sort of like you're gaping at all the information in front of you. And-and sometimes you'll mouth out what's going on inside your head as you try to fit the pieces of everything together so it's neat and tidy like a puzzle. And even though you have the, like, blankest stare imaginable, it's not empty at all if that makes any sense. Cause your eyes narrow and your forehead scrunches just the tiniest amount so you have a small little wrinkle form like right here—" with his unoccupied hand Chris points at the bridge of his nose right between his eyes "—and it's weirdly, insanely cute? But when you finally figure out the puzzle in your head, your face lights up like a kid on christmas morning and...and..." He lets his words trail off and stops awkwardly there, as though finally realizing exactly what he's been saying this entire time.

His face is almost beet red now, and Ashley is pretty sure hers is too. "Oh, uh, wow. I-I didn't realize you paid any attention to me when I was like that..."

Somehow his face only gets redder, and though he mumbles the words under his breath, Ashley can still make them out. "I'm always paying attention to you."

But not close enough attention it seems, she thinks sadly. If you did then you would have noticed something way more obvious than that. But she doesn't want to embarrass him anymore than he already is (then she already is), and she isn't sure what else she could possibly say that wouldn't be her blurting out that she likes him, so instead she pretends that she hadn't heard a single thing and wordlessly accepts the ice cream that he hands to her, accepting her defeat as she takes a small bite of the blueberry covered chocolate soft serve.

...The blueberry covered chocolate soft serve that he had bought for her. Or, you know, the ice cream he had paid for himself. Just like he had paid for everything today. Kind of like it was almost a, uh, date. Like he had taken her on a date.

Oh .

"Oh boy, let me guess: I was right and your ice cream really is a crime against taste buds?"

Ashley comes crashing back down to reality to see Chris, his face still a little red but the playful smile back on his face as he teased her. And yet, that only makes it worse as she can't help but feel the usual gymnastics routine the butterflies in her stomach perform at that particular smile, only they're a thousand times worse now that's she's realized exactly why today had felt so strange. And she can't help thinking how much everyone else would classify what was just a day hanging out with her best friend as a date. And how much she really, really wished it was one.

"Nope," she unfortunately squeaks out, and clears her throat so she can continue in a more normal tone of voice. "Nope, sorry to disappoint Chris, but the ice cream tastes fine." She takes another bite for proof (and to her credit she's not lying, it tastes more than fine). "Just, uh, realized something funny that's all." And the moment the words leave her mouth she realizes just how badly she's screwed everything up, because there is no way in any world that Chris Hartley is just going to let that comment lie.

"Funny? Oho, well now I'm interested. You mind sharing your glorious epiphany with the rest of the class Miss Brown?"

Taking another small taste of her ice cream, Ashley averts her gaze as she gives what she is kicking herself for is obviously an extremely forced laugh. "Did I say funny? I meant boring, just super boring actually."

"Well now I just want to hear it more."

"No, you don't. Trust me, you really, really don't."

Chris's brows furrow in concern. "Ash? You okay?"

She isn't, of course she isn't. She's now realized exactly what a date with Chris would be like, and it would be exactly like this. With them going to all the same place and doing the same things but she's allowed to hold his hand and kiss him when he does stupid sweet things like buying her the book she's been eyeing and talking about all day. She's never wanted something to be so true so badly in her life. And it's likely this thought in her mind that causes her to blurt out "A date." before she even realizes what she's said.

That only makes the confusion on Chris's face go deeper, which is appropriate considering she's sinking deeper and deeper into her chair in a futile effort to hide or escape as well. "What? Are you saying that you just remember what date it is today? Or that you had something you were supposed to do today instead? I'm not really following you right now Ash..."

This is perfect. It's the perfect excuse, she could laugh and say that she totally forgot what day it was and that she had an essay due pretty soon, or that she was supposed to babysit for a neighbour tonight. Anything really, the sky was quite literally the limit. And instead she just bit her lip and stared at the ice cream melting in her hand before weakly admitting "No, a, uh, date. As in, the romantic kind. I realized that today probably looks like a date to anyone else. Funny, huh?"

She's not sure how Chris would react to that. Maybe a startled laugh, and hand wave as he brushes her off. A scoff as he assures her that this definitely isn't a date, cause they're just friends and that's all they'll ever be. Whatever the reaction she expected, it was certainly not the fumbling for his ice cream as he nearly drops it in his shock, and how absolutely flustered he sounds as he trips over his own tongue. "W-what? I-I-I, uh—I mean, th-this obviously isn't—Who would even—? Wh-what would even give you the idea that we could um, possibly be on a date?"

Ashley shrugs weakly. "Isn't it obvious Chris?" She ignores his even more flustered babbling that no, he absolutely did not see what was so obvious as she continued on, still too nervous to look him in the eyes. "You've kind of paid for everything today."

"I wha—? I mean, no I haven't!"

"You kind of have, Chris. The theater?"

"You know I always pay for the tickets, and it would have just been really rude to make the line even longer!"

"The art show?"

"It was just a couple of toonies! And you saw the face of the worker there, they would have kicked us right out if they'd had to break a twenty. It was just easier."

"Lunch?"

"They-they'd had a special on for a two-person meal at that stall in the food court, and they wouldn't let each of us pay half..." he neglected to point out that Ashley could have easily paid for their lunch, and probably should have, but before she had been able to offer he'd already been swiping his debit card.

"The arcade?"

"Okay, that was my turn to buy the tokens, you know that. That one doesn't even count."

Ashley lifted her eyes from the ice cream to the book that sat menacingly and innocently all at one at the center of the table, it's pristine cover mocking her. "The book?"

"T-that was just a gift! You seemed really into it at the store and friends buy each other gifts all the time—"

There was no describing how soft and nervous her voice got as she asked the question that would put the final nail in the coffin. "The ice cream?"

"I, uh, it was just—um..." Chris let out a breath in a weak chuckle. "Shit, I guess I kind of did, huh?"

Ashley doesn't say anything, and neither does Chris, as the table goes silent. She's bracing herself for when Chris inevitably shoots her down and confirms that it doesn't matter. That the two of them will never be anything more then friends and that she never should have hoped for anything more and by revealing this she's ruined their friendship for good—

"Hey, uh, Ash?" He sounds so nervous that it immediately takes Ashley out of her anxiety driven thoughts of doom and gloom, but she can't do anything more than just shakily nod to let him continue. "It's, uh, probably like a really, really, really stupid question but—" he takes a nervous breath "—did you want this to be a date?"

Her head immediately shoots up as she stares at him with wide eyes, her breath caught somewhere in her throat where her heart is currently lodged. She frantically rakes her eyes over Chris's face looking for any hint that he's mocking her, or playing some cruel joke on her and her feelings, but all she sees is just nervousness all over a pale, shaking face with what she thinks ( prays ) is a glimmer of undisguised hope. But it's still too much uncertainty, and she's too scared to risk it all on a mere glimmer that she is likely only imagining because she wants it so badly to be real, so she throws the question back at him instead.

"...would you have been opposed if this was actually a date?"

"Nuh uh, I asked you first."

Ashley realizes that he's just as scared at what the answer might be as she is. She wants to tell him, has wanted to tell him for years and years and years. And maybe this is the chance she's been waiting for her whole life. The two of them sitting at a sticky plastic table under the early evening sun, long forgotten ice cream melting in their hands, and she can finally tell him that she's had such a huge crush on him since she was twelve.

"Yeah." The word is less choked out than it is released. Like it's a breath of fresh air and she feels simultaneously lighter and heavier for it. "I-I think I would have liked that. I would have liked that alot."

Chris snaps his gaze up to meet hers, and the glimmer of hope that she had seen earlier has now nearly taken over his face at the disbelieving smile that's threatening to crack his face in two. "Really? I-I mean, uh, I would have been alright with the idea too. More than alright actually."

She can feel her own smile start to nervously match his, and then the first giggle breaks out. His own ecstatic laughter quickly follows her own until the two of them are both giddily laughing at the table, but too embarrassed and bashful to even look at each other now. The giggling abruptly cuts off when Chris lets out a yelp of surprise when he realizes how much of his ice cream has melted onto his hand and Ashley joins him in trying to finish off their ice cream before it's melted entirely. But there's definitely a change in the atmosphere around them now. The contentness and laid back ease that always formed between them whenever they hung out was still there, but there is a charge that hadn't been there before either. An excited anticipation that only surges higher and higher whenever Ashley shyly glances in Chris's direction to find he's looking at her with the same disbelieving smile beaming on his face.

They never say anything more about it as they both finish off the ice cream, but Ashley knows. With that little agreement, the entire day had changed. This wasn't just them hanging out as friends anymore, this was an actual, factual date now, pure and simple. So when Chris hands her a couple of extra napkins to clean herself off, she may have let her fingers brush against his for just a moment. The resulting blush and dumbstruck smile on his face when he cautiously took his hand back so he could clean up the rest of the mess on the table was oh so worth it. And when he returned from his trip to the garbage can and held out his hand as an offer to help her up from the chair, she accepted it readily.

Once she's back on her feet, the two of them drop their eyes to stare at their still clasped hands, realizing that they could easily hold hands the entire short walk back to Chris's truck if they wanted. And she does want that—horribly in fact—but it seems it's still a little too early for either of them to make that teeny tiny but monumental jump to hand holding so they let go awkwardly and slowly, letting their fingers linger against the others before letting go completely. As though giving themselves a taste of what may yet actually come to pass in the (hopefully) very near future.

The short walk back to the truck is filled with both anticipation and dread alike, but unusually silent. Ashley knows it's because she's now a buzzing ball of nervous energy, terrified that saying anything at all will shatter this dream that's apparently coming true before her eyes, but Chris is different. He looks more like he's trying to work up the courage to say or ask something, and is spending all his energy on that alone. So when he reaches out to open up the passenger side door for her, Ashley can feel her heart pick up speed when he stops with his hand on the door handle and looks at her nervously. His mouth opens and shuts a couple of times as he tries to work up the courage to say whatever it is he wants to say, and all she can do is stare at him expectantly as she struggles to hold back an excited smile.

"Hey, Ash, ca—nevermind. It's, it's stupid. Don't worry about it." A second later, he has the door opened for her and the moment she can't see his face, she lets her smile fall crestfallen. But only for a second before a polite one replaces it as thanks when he closes the door for her and continues to his side of the truck. It's fine, she supposes as she buckles herself in, while the two of them have been hanging out all day, it's only been an actual date now for barely ten minutes. And once he drops her off home in just another few short minutes it's going to be over. The fact that she even managed to get this far is franky mind blowing, so expecting anything more from her dreams would just be extremely selfish. She can't have everything she wants all at once, no matter how long she's been waiting for it.

The drive back to her place is also quiet, filled with only the droning of the radio playing in the background. Ashley's returned back to her book, but she knows that Chris knows that she's not absorbing a single word, hasn't turned a single page even. She keeps glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as he nervously taps at the steering wheel, and then tightening his grasp when it looks like he's going to say something, only to return to the nervous tapping when he inevitably backs out at the last second and returns to the frantic pep talk he's likely giving himself. The air that fills the vehicle is heavy and thick with anticipation and it's taking almost everything in Ashley to not start shaking the question out of Chris at every red light they stop at.

But, eventually, they pull up in front of her place and Chris stops the truck. There's a moment where the two of them just sit there, not wanting to leave because leaving means the end, and Ashley schools her face into a cheery smile in an effort to hide as much of the disappointment as she can when she turns to face him and bid him farewell, only to have it fall to confusion when he starts fumbling at his own seatbelt.

"Chris? What are you doing?"

He struggles further at it, frustrated that the buckle's apparently decided that now is the perfect time for it to stick once again. "Trying to get this fucking thing off."

"Yeah, I figured that much. But why are you trying to take it off, you're just gonna leave right away again anyway."

He slows his fumbling as cheeks start darkening in embarrassment. "I, uh, I just thought that was something you were supposed to do after a date, walk them to their door to stay goodnight. I mean, at least I think this is a date now? And, and only if you're okay with it! I can stay in here instead if you don't want me to. I was just hoping..."

The once forced cheery smile on her face is certainly not being forced any longer, if anything she's trying not to show how much the idea of Chris walking her to her door thrills her. "N-no!" Well, so much for trying not to show how desperately she wants that. The startled look he gives her at the unexpected outburst had her trying to control her voice into something less desperate, but considering she doesn't think she's ever going tame the frantic butterflies that have been flapping around non-stop in her stomach ever since the ice cream realization, she's probably doing a terrible job of it. "I-I mean if you want to, it's completely up to you after all..."

"Cool. Cool cool cool. Just, just give me a second." He continues to struggle with his seatbelt buckle, letting out more and more agitated curses escape the longer the thing continues to stick, and Ashley is getting the feeling that if he was able, Chris would have ripped the entire thing straight out of the seat by now. Broken safety laws and ensuing repair costs be damned. The moment he finally manages to unstick the traitorous buckle it's with a cry of victory and relief so exuberant that Ashley finds herself laughing in disbelief and awe that he had wanted to walk her the short ten or so feet to her front door that badly. Thankfully, for both of them, her seatbelt unclicks easily and much more quickly in comparison, only taking another couple of seconds to grab her bag from the footwell and joining him.

The far too short walk up to her door is over before either of them realize it. One second the two of them had been standing awkwardly and nervously by the truck as she fought the urge to reach out and grab his hand, and the next they're standing just as awkwardly and nervously (if not moreso) in front of the front door. Both of them waiting for the other to say or do something to break the tension, but cleanly aware that doing so would signal the very final end of the day, and the date. In fact, just knowing that Chris doesn't want this to end just as badly as her, is what gives her the courage to look at him with a surprisingly heartfelt and soft smile.

"Today was fun."

Chris lifts his eyes from where they had been staring at the dried leaves on the doorstep to match her smile. "Yeah. It was."

"And thanks. For the movie, and everything else." Ashley raises her hand to give the new and still shiny paperback a small wave. "And, you know, the book too. Of course."

"Yeah, it was no problem. Anytime." There's something with how he says the last bit—not really emphasizing it but making it clear all the same that he means 'anytime'—that causes her face to flush giddily as she pulls her lower lip in between her teeth in a weak effort to fight back against the ecstatic smile that forms anyway. And when she sees his eyes lower just a smidge to follow the motion and the way his shoulders stiffen in reaction, Ashley very quickly also finds she's trying (much more successfully) to hold herself back from just saying 'to hell with it' and throwing her arms around Chris so she can finally kiss him silly and until they're both breathless. But considering that she's too much of a coward to initiate something as innocent as hand holding apparently, there is absolutely no way that something as...as scandalous as kissing him on her doorstep is ever going to happen. Clearly.

And yet, she gives Chris another few seconds to try and work past that blockade in his throat, but when he still can't muster a single word, she decides to just put the both of them out of their misery. Or further into it. It's probably just the same thing really. "I guess I'll see you next time. I'll talk to you later, okay?" She turns away and puts her hand on the doorknob, and tucks the book under her arm so she can dig into her bag for keys, but is stopped when Chris's hand abruptly snakes out and wraps itself firmly around her wrist before she can reach into the bag. And it works—boy does it ever —turning back to him and the hand wrapped around her wrist as excitement just starts to bubble up inside of her.

A second later though, his brain has apparently caught up with the movement he clearly hadn't intended to make, because his face goes beet-red and he's dropped her hand so he can shove both into the pockets of his jeans. He averts his eyes so he's back to staring at the loose gravel and dried leaves under their feet.

"Oh, uh, sorry about that. I didn't mean to..."

"It's fine, Chris." Ashley tries to smile softly at him in reassurance, but it's considering she's gripping the doorknob in an almost vice-like grip in anticipation, it's likely far more eager than she would like. "What is it?"

Somehow, his face goes even redder and he blurts out the question so fast that it may as well have been one word. "CanIkissyou?!"

Immediately, Ashley's gaping at him wide-eyed and her mouth open in shock as her heart's beating so fast that she's pretty sure it's ready to burst out of her chest at any moment. "Wha—"

"I-I mean goodnight. Can I kiss you goodnight? That's what people are supposed to do on dates, right? A-a-a-and I think we agreed that this is a date now, or at least I really, really hope we did. Cause I've wanted to go on a date with you for the longest time and-and-and I didn't want Saundra or-or-or any of your neighbours to see cause I know that would just really embarrass you and me but I've been trying to ask you for the past thirty minutes now cause I've wanted to kiss you since forever but I was scared about how you would react cause I really, really, really like you Ash and I just wanna to kiss you so fucking bad right now you have no idea and—"

Ashley would like to believe that she's brave enough to throw her arms around Chris and drag him down into that searing kiss she's been dreaming about forever and ever, but she doesn't. Even with a confession that is everything she's ever wanted to hear and more. That's not to say that she doesn't want to do it—god does she want to do it—but she's so frozen in place from shock that she physically can't. So instead she just continues to gape at him as he (adorably) rambles on and on, and giggles out an elated little "okay".

His nervous rambling stops dead in its tracks, and he finally looks back up at her, nervous relief evident all over his face. "Really? I mean, are you sure? I'd understand if you didn't want to—"

" Chris ."

That immediately shifts the relief to a different kind of nervousness entirely, one of excited disbelief, but even then neither move to actually initiate this promised kiss for several seconds. Instead just staring at each other waiting for the other to be the first to move, Chris with his hands still in his jeans pockets and Ashley glued to the doorknob with her other hand frozen as it hovers over her bag. Finally, Chris is the first to slowly bend down to meet her awkwardly half turned body, and she unsteadily tries to rock herself onto the tips of her toes without losing her balance completely and falling over. And still, they both pause about an inch away from each other's faces, though whether to give the other an out if needed or just to work through the logistics of how to do this exactly without their foreheads or noses smashing into each other or Chris's glasses getting in the way is anyone's guess.

But finally, mainly due to the fact that Ashley can't lean forward anymore without falling completely on her face, Chris closes that final bit of distance and kisses her. It's a nervous brush of the lips really—a quick peck at best —but they jolt back from each other so quickly that the single action may as well have activated some hidden magnetic repel function that neither had been aware of until this moment. Both of them are staring at each other wide-eyed and breathless as the magnitude of what they had both finally managed to accomplish hit them. The kinda-sort confession and the almost hand holding meant absolutely nothing in comparison to this. Those she could have (and would most likely have) brushed off as her reading too much into innocent statements and gestures when she thought over everything that had happened today in the safety of her room later tonight. But this? This was physical proof .

Looking back, Ashley's not sure which of them moved first. One second they had been staring at each other in disbelief, stuck in the same awkward bent and leaning stature from before, and the next it's as if the magnetic attraction between them reverses its flow entirely. Chris is cupping her cheek with one hand as he kisses her in the way she always dreamed he would, his other hand slowly skating across the back of her neck so he can pull her up closer to him. The book that had once been clutched protectively under her arm was completely forgotten about—fallen to the ground with a sharp crunch as it crushed the dried leaves beneath their feet—as her arms wrapped possessively around his shoulders as she props herself as high as the tips her toes will allow her. She can still taste a hint of the chocolate from earlier on his lips, and the small part of her that isn't being blown away by all of this is wondering if he can taste the blueberry and chocolate on hers as well.

She's not sure how long the two of them stood there on her doorstep, kissing for all the world to see, but she does know that they still separate much, much too soon for her liking. Not that they fully separate of course. She may be back on the soles of her feet, but neither of them have removed themselves from the embrace itself. And with the way that Chris is lightly brushing his thumb over her cheekbone as he just stares at her with the same stupidly giddy grin she's got, Ashley would be perfectly fine if they could just stay standing like this forever.

"So..." she starts, and stops to take a moment to giggle when Chris bumps his nose into hers. "I think that was a perfectly acceptable first date if you ask me."

Chris doesn't let go of her when he leans back to consider her, the comically raised eyebrows in shock doing nothing to take away from the absolutely thrilled beam of his smile. " First date? Why Miss Brown, are you perhaps asking me out for a second one already?"

"I mean, if it's not too presumptuous of me, I suppose I am. I-if you're not opposed to it of course." She can't help the way her nervousness starts to bleed through with that last sentence, already panicking that she's somehow completely misread everything that's just happened and that maybe that kiss didn't mean as much to him as it did to her after all.

His next words completely derail those fears entirely. "Of course I'm not, I would love nothing more than to go on a second date with you. Followed by a third and fourth and even a fifth if you have the time for it."

"I mean, I'm a pretty busy girl but I think I can open up as many days in my schedule as it takes if I need to."

Before she knows it, the two of them are leaning in for another kiss when the sound of pot being dropped in the nearby kitchen through the open window jarringly brings them back to reality and the two of them let go of each other red faced and embarrassed. Oh no, how much of this had her mother heard? Or worse, saw? She wants to leave the doorstep (which is rapidly becoming her favourite place in the whole entire world) even less now, but the longer she takes the worse the excited interrogation from Saundra will be so she starts digging back into her bag to try and find her keys once again.

"I'll text you later, okay? And, maybe, we can talk some more about that second date...?"

The reply from Chris is flustered but eager. "Yeah, totally. I-I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Cool. And um, the next one's one me. The date that is. It's only fair after all."

"Yeah, right. Only fair. Totally. And, uh, your book..."

She finally finds her keys from where they had sunk to the bottom of her bag, and looks up at him and the paperback book that had fallen during their, uh, intimate embrace. "Oh! Uh, right. Thanks." She could easily leave it at that, but the last few minutes have made her bold so when she reaches out to take the book back from him, Ashley curls her fingers over his and bounces onto the balls of her feet so she can give him one last kiss on his cheek—almost the corner of his mouth really—before finally stepping back with the book and keys in her hand. "I mean it. Thanks . For everything."

"Yeah. No problem. It was my pleasure."

She lets herself have one last glimpse of the stupefied grin on his face just as he turns to walk just a little unsteadily down the path back to his truck. The only sounds being the leaves crushing underfoot and the jangle of metal as she sticks her keys into the door to finally unlock it. A sound that it quickly interrupted by not only the click of the door unlocking, but a muffled shout.

Alarmed, she turns quickly expecting to see Chris having accidentally shut his coat into the door as he is sometimes known to do when the weather gets colder, but instead watches in elated shock as he continues to keep energetically flapping his arms and fist pumping into the air and screaming what she can vaguely make out as 'yesyesyesyesYESYESYES' over and over again.

Suddenly it hits her. Despite the shy confession over ice cream, and then the much more rushed and rambled one only minutes ago, and followed by the kiss(es) that are still sending her heart into rapid fire, Ashley still hadn't believed what all the evidence had been saying. Chris liked her. He really, really liked her. Possibly as much as she liked him even! This wasn't just a one-off event that would now make things awkward between them for the rest of their lives. This was happening. They'd just had a first(!!!!) date and after Chris had kissed her goodbye, she had asked him out for a second one.

And he had accepted .

Ashley fumbled with the door and the moment she was in the house, slammed the door behind her, not even bothering to lock it. She let her bag fall from her shoulder to the floor with a soft thump and slowly slid down the door until she was sitting against it with her eyes wide and breathless. She ignored the surprised clatter coming from the kitchen as Saundra immediately dropped whatever it was she had been doing in and held up the book so she could stare at the once innocuous cover in amazement.

He had bought her this book and the ice cream because he liked her and he had gladly and excitedly accepted to go out on another date with her. And even more if he had been serious about that third date and beyond line.

And not that either would ever know it, Ashley mirrored Chris at that exact moment by placing her head into her hands and screaming as the built up joy and bliss finally exploded out of her.

#pride month prompt challenge #my writing #until dawn #chris hartley #ashley brown #chrashley #take two of trying post this stupid thing!#tumblr deleted the last one >:(#but this one actually copied over the italics so that saves me a shit ton of time if im being honest

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ka-writes · 3 years

Text

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Notes: I had already started on the second chapter before I posted the first one, so don’t expect updates every day... I also had to do a lot of googling for this chapter.

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Chapter 1 in case you missed it:

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Inspired by:

Humans are Space Velociraptors

By:FreshRoses_InMyGarden_NeedTheRain

Some kids come from storks, others come from crashed spaceships

By: mmmajora

Home Again, Home Again

By: teeth_eater

All works can be found on Ao3

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Warnings: Cussing, needles, character conflicts, intentional poisoning, poisoning, Jaws reference

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“Humans are [and text here]”

Chapter 2: What is this, an interview?

Tommy was now restrained to a chair six feet away from the weird scientist alien. He had a dark brown lab coat with a fuzzy yellow sweater underneath, matched with black pants and black leather boots. His gold rimmed Harry Potter glasses slipped down his nose bridge a bit before he pushed it up and shuffled through papers. He wore a red beanie with a big whiff of his curly chocolate hair. His skin was a weird translucent grayish color with blue speckles decorating it. He had deep brown eyes with an odd electric blue circle outlining the pupil.

His tongue licked his finger as he turned the page. This was a habit that most of the weird teachers and counselors did. It always annoyed Tommy. This time fear was also mixed into that annoyance. His saliva was tinted blue and he had sharp teeth which immediately reminded him of a shark.

“You have shark teeth.” Tommy stated absentmindedly. Clearly, this caught the scientist alien off guard.

“I have what?” The alien asked, confused.

“Shark teeth.. ya know like the weird fish creatures that eat people.” Tommy started rambling causing the shark-alien to become even more confused and slightly alarmed. “I mean I think they eat people. That’s what the shark movie showed… what was its name, Jaws I think? I dunno, my foster mom freaked out in the middle of it and we went home. That lady was weird.. She made us wear itchy clothes and take weird photos before she sent me back to the group home.”

“What?..” The shark-alien asked. Tommy jumped a bit. He forgot he was rambling to a stranger. Alien stranger at that.

“Doesn’t matter.. What's the first question bitch-boy?” Tommy liked the way the alien jumped at the randomly timed insults.

“Er- right.. First off, what’s your name?” The shark-alien asked after collecting himself.

“Tommy Innit. Yours bitch-boy?” Tommy replied.

“Wilbur Soot. Stop calling me bitch-boy!” Wilbur huffed.

“Next question, bitch-boy!” Tommy emphasized the name, getting an even angrier expression in return. Wilbur’s weird blue circle flashed red for a second which caught Tommy off guard.

Wilbur took a shaky breath before asking the next question. “How old are you?”

“Old enough! I am a big man!” Tommy stated. Yet another thing that pissed him off.

“Age?” Wilbur asked, clearly irritated.

“18.” Wilbur raised a brow, “14.” Tommy huffed. His age should only be his business not some alien-bitch who didn’t even have his file.

“If you keep lying, I may have to get the truth serum from the back.” Wilbur half-heartedly threatened. Tommy, the big man that he is, did not get scared at that statement, only slightly unsettled which clearly showed on his face.

“Now, do you have a family?” Tommy tensed at the question. It was a touchy question and was not one that was asked often especially with his reputation.

“I am a big man. I don’t need a family to be great.” Tommy stated, happy with the answer. The alien-bitch shifted awkwardly.

“Right… What is your diet?”

“Umm.. I dunno, whatever I can find. I am allergic to nuts though..” Wilbur nodded in understanding and wrote things down in his notepad.

“What plants are poisonous to you?” Wilbur asked without looking up from his notes.

“Ermm, poison Ivy, poison oak… uh I think parts of rhubarb, and most wild berries. I am not sure other than that.” Wilbur nodded while adding bits to his notes.

“What was the place you lived like?” This time Wilbur glanced up to look at Tommy. This was again another touchy subject… How many times would this alien bitch get into the sad background?

“Shitty.” Tommy snapped. That was the only response the bitch was gonna get.

“Right.. Do you have music on Earth?”

Tommy scoffed, “Of course we have music, dumbass!”

“Can you tell me about the animals there?” Wilbur asked, almost hopeful.. which was weird. What was he hoping for?

“Erm I guess..” Tommy mumbled, trying to figure out where to start, “There’s a bunch of animals. Mainly on land. My favorite would be the cow.”

“What’s that?” Curiosity stained Wilbur’s face. This got Tommy excited; he was practically beaming as he started talking.

“Well they are these big ruminants that make milk and have horns. There are a bunch of types too like the highland cow, which obviously is the most poggers one. They are a Scottish breed with really long hair. I met one once, on a field trip his name was Henry.” Tommy rambled on for the next two and a half hours, jumping from topic to topic and explaining anything that wasn’t personal. He usually ended those paths with short insults.

——————

Wilbur hated to stop the kids' detailed story, but two and a half celestial hours had already passed, and Dream would be coming to check soon. Luckily, he had a couple new poisons that could pass off as a research development. He had even managed to send the distressed signal and no doubt Phil would already be there with the SBI craft ready to fly at any given moment.

“Alright Tommy.” His voice dropped to a serious tone causing the kid to stop his story of how he got poisoned by mushrooms on a camping trip. “You’re gonna have to trust me just for a bit. I am going to get you off the ship at the next stop but in the meantime I need you to tell me how allergic you’re to nuts.” The kid immediately tensed at the question.

“I am mainly allergic to tree nuts.. almonds being the worst. After a few minutes I can’t breathe properly and I usually pass out. The doctor said if I don’t get it treated within 15 minutes, death is most likely.” He took a moment to go through the information. The kid most likely has an anaphylaxis reaction to tree nuts. Meaning either he would have to know the exact time of landing and exactly where Phil was or he needed another poison that was less severe.

“Alright, here is what we’re gonna do. I have a chemical mixture that is similar to that of rattlesnake venom. I also have a chemical substance that numbs any pain you may feel. Side effects would include being very very tired and delirious over the next few days. Along with being knocked out for a good ten hours. To put it simply I am gonna fake poison you, in order to get you off the ship. It’s your choice if you’re willing to do it.” Wilbur paused to study the kid still restrained in front of him. It was odd how relaxed the kid seemed to be in a situation like this. He had no urge as far as Wilbur was aware, to fight against anything that happened. His complaints only being those that touched on personal matters. It was unsettling to say the least, and intrigued Wilbur. He really wanted to unravel the life the kid had lived before this and how he was actually dealing with the situation.

There was a long pause before the kid spoke, “I wouldn’t mind getting away from the weird smiley bitch.. plus you seem nice and to know what you’re doing so sure. Poison me bitch.” He said the last sentence with an enthusiasm Wilbur wasn’t expecting. He took a moment to rethink his plan, which was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Dream says you better have advanced in your stupid testing. Otherwise he’s gonna kick you off the ship at the next stop.” Stated the rather rude blazeling, Sapnap. The blazeling never liked Wilbur and made a point to argue against any advancements at meals. That led to Dream installing a new system of emails and Wilbur eating meals alone.

“Yea yea, it’s going!” He yelled through the metal door.

“Better be.” The blazeling snapped before making a non quiet track back to his quarters.

“Stupid blazeling.” Wilbur grumbled as he sorted through vials and picked up new needles and measured out the substances. “We are going to start with the anesthetic then move onto the poison.” He softly addressed Tommy.

Wilbur swiftly disinfected Tommy’s shoulder and gave the needle. He then gave the second needle. Immediately Tommy slumped over. Wilbur swiftly took off Tommy’s restraints and moved him on to the patient bed in the back corner of the room. After the transfer was done he clipped the body restraints around Tommy and waited for the alert signaling landing.

After about five minutes the light next to the door turned blue. He moved over to his seat and clipped on the safety belts. The light turned green and the ship shook momentarily before a thud could be felt. Quickly as Wilbur could, he emptied the needles into the waste bin and waited for his soon-to-be-ex-boss to arrive.

Dream stepped through the door and glanced around the room before heading to Wilbur for his report.

“Report.” The dreamon commanded.

“The subject's body would have gone through a painfully slow death and have multiple organ failures if I did not intervene. The chemical mixes used created a conflict in the patient’s body which resulted in the patient falling into exhaustion as they recovered.” He responded in a monotone tone. Dream looked over Tommy. He flinched back in disgust as Tommy grunted in his sleep.

“Is that all?” The dreamon questioned.

“No.” Wilbur swallowed down his panic, “This is the last testing I will be doing with this crew.” The dreamon scoffed.

“I am assuming you’re getting off at this planet?” Dream spit. Wilbur knew he absolutely hated when people left his crew as he saw it as a direct violation of his loyalty.

“Yes.” The phantom stated, keeping his even tone apparent. With that Dream stormed out cursing in Siestian. Somewhere in the mess of words he told Wilbur to get his things.

Without hesitation he grabbed his bag from his quarters, which was held in a small room that branches off the lab. He half sprinted down the short hallway and straight to the bed Tommy was on. He swiftly unrestrained the human and sat him up. He slipped on boots and gloves then tied a cloak around the kid. He pulled the hood up and carried him off of the closest exit. There were faint yells from Dream down the hallway and reassurances from the only two beings that put up with him. And with that Wilbur was off to find the only craft he had ever called home. The SBI ship.

——————

Chapter 2- End

Words~ 1774

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End Notes: ‘‘twas to lazy to reread... sorry for minor mistakes. Also suggestions are always appreciated!! Please reblog...

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Chapter 3:

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Wilbur:

#my writing #my fanfic tag #wilbur soot #sapnap #dream mcyt #tommy mcyt #dream smp fanfiction #space au

15 notes · View notes

lordoffiction · 4 years

Text

Two Souls, One Fate: chapter one.

☞: After spending two days trying to post this, here it is! Hooray!

I really hope you all enjoy this whilst I finish writing the fifth chapter for T.L, because god knows I spent too much time on this. I haven’t wrote in a few months, so please excuse any mistakes I made in this and if it’s shitty! It’ll get better, promise.

Please give me feedback and let me know if you would like to get tagged in this series!

Anyways, enjoy!

WORD COUNT: 5,069

WARNINGS: swearing, mild violence, mentions of suicide.

gif isn’t mine, all credits to the owner.

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Your fingers combed through your hair, bundling it up into an untidy ponytail, pulling the long strands to make sure it was secure and tight enough. You had had long hair for around ten years, it's your pride and joy.

Growing up in an all-male family had made you that way, you grew up a tomboy with your five older brothers and always saw yourself as one of them.

But then that magical moment came when you were ripped from your carefree childhood and brutally slammed into the harsh society and expectations of women, you had begun to hate the idea of acting like a boy. People told you to act more like a “lady”. So you had put away the mud pies, the sword fights, and the wrestling. You began doing make-up, having long hair, and wearing pretty clothes.

But throughout everything, no matter what anyone said, society and snotty people couldn’t take this one thing from you.

Archery.

Your father had taught you from a young age, a sport that made you better even on your worst days. Something that not even the most powerful being in existence could take from you. The thrill of letting go of that arrow, watching it glide through the air before striking its target. It was something you would never get bored of.

You dressed in your normal sportswear, sliding on protective gloves made specially to stop your hands from getting sores as you held the arrow.

Where you lived was a small village, everybody knew everybody. News and gossip spread like wildfire here, so you only imagine that half the village had already heard about your date later tonight.

Reaching over to your bow and your arrow hanging pot, slinging it over your shoulder, you left your small apartment and headed towards the forest. You had a set up shooting range for archery at the corner of it, your dad would make targets for you and set you challenges every day when you were younger. Like swinging targets or shooting whilst you're running.

“G’ morning, dear. Going out to the woods again?”

Your eyes turned to see your elderly neighbour smiling at you, her eyes crinkled at the corners. Her walking stick barely keeping her up properly and her woven hat kept the sunlight out of her eyes.

“Mrs. Genkins,” You smiled at her small frame. Such a fragile woman. “Don’t I spend all my time in those damn woods?”

“Just you be careful, you wouldn’t want to hurt yourself before your date tonight.” Mrs. Genkins waved her walking stick at you slightly in a teasing manner, barely putting it back in time before she loses her balance.

The comment made your eyes roll internally. Of course, people already knew about your date tonight.

“I see news hasn’t lost its way around this place.” Your hand automatically reaching out to her in case she falls, which she brushed away with her wrinkled hands. Though she may be pushing ninety, she sure is one tough little lady when it comes to receiving any help.

“You know people around here, other people's lives are their entertainment. Just make sure this one can handle you, you can’t be single forever, you know?” Mrs. Genkins squinted her eyes at you teasing you from the last man you had dated that went sour once he had realized how unfeminine you are.

“Is he really worth my time is he can’t handle a tough girl like me?” You teased back, giving her a small wink as she cackled at your comment.

“Well, I better be going if I want to miss the morning rush at the morning market. You be safe, dear. And be careful.”

You nodded at her, smiling as you waved her down the road and out of sight. You let your head fall back slightly, closing your eyes with an exasperating sigh. You really need to move somewhere where there isn’t anyone you know or where no-one knows you.

You set off towards the woods, it wasn’t a far walk, only about five minutes from your apartment complex.

You dug your earphones out from your pocket, plugging them into your phone, and playing your latest playlist you had made for when you go do your archery. You began stretching your arms on the way, hooking one arm around the other, and pulling on it to receive a satisfying 'pop'.

Just as you entered the woods, you began to hear faint drumming noises. You brushed it off, perhaps it was something for the song you were listening to, though you never remembered this when you last listened to it yesterday.

Your brows knotted together in confusion as the drumming began to get louder and louder as you went deeper into the forest. The noise became so loud that you ripped your earphones out of your ears, your eyes widening. It wasn’t coming from the music.

It was coming from around you.

As soon as you realised, a small chanting sound echoed with the drumming, syncing with the beat of it.

A cult? You thought.

Your E/C hues quickly began searching around you to see who was doing it but found no one else in the woods with you.

Your fight or flight reflex suddenly kicked in, making you break out into a full-blown sprint into the woods, you tried to fumble with your bow, reaching for one of your arrows in it’s hanging pot behind your back, panting as your fingertips brushed the tip of it.

“C’mon!” You yelled at yourself in frustration.

Suddenly, you began to fall sideways, your ankle giving way beneath you in a twisted mess. The world began to spiral around you as you rolled into the ditch near the pathway you were once walking on.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

You felt yourself being thrashed around for a few seconds downhill before finally landing on the flat ground again. You gasped for air, the collision causing you to land onto your back, knocking all the air out of your lungs.

You laid there for a minute, breathing in deeply. Did you really just fucking fall?

Rolling onto your side and going onto your hands and knees once you regained your breath, you looked up at the large hill you just fell from, realising the only way you can get back to the track is if you climb back up again.

“Shit.” You grumbled under your breath, using the nearest tree to pull yourself up to your feet again. Your arrows were scattered around you from the fall, leaning down to pick them up one by one and placing them back in your hanging pot.

As you reached for the last one, but your eyes were caught on a small box under the root of a large tree, surely the largest tree you had seen in these woods before and in your entire life.

It must have been thousands of years old, you could wrap yourself around it at least six or seven times.

“Oh, my...” You gawked the tree up and down, taking it all in before looking back to the box that was intertwined with its roots.

“What’s this?” You wondered aloud, going onto your knees and tracing your fingers on the corners of the box that you could touch. It was covered in dirt and moss but your curiosity ate you alive, reaching for one of your arrows, you began to jab at the root to loosen it with the end of your arrow.

After a few moments of trying, you finally loosened the root enough to yank the box out from it with a hard tug, causing you to fall backward.

You brushed it with your fingers but the dirt and grime were so thickly coated on it for god knows how long.

“Curious cat, aren’t you?” You spoke to yourself, standing up again and forgetting completely about your training. “This could be a murder weapon or something and you want to take it home with you.” You tusked, tucking the box into your hanging pot.

The journey back home was filled with many emotions, the main one being self-pity for yourself on how you fell down the hill. The second was about the drums that caused you to fall.

—————————

You ringed your hair out as you stepped out of the shower, letting it fall down your back, the water droplets dripping down your skin, and pooling around your feet.

You dried yourself off as you danced to the music playing from your speaker in your small apartment, grabbing the clothes you planned to wear to your date tonight.

What a weird day, huh. You thought back to the drumming and chanting.

You had chosen a pair of black jeans and a cute black top you had recently bought as a treat, the neckline dripping to show your cleavage. The outfit suited your figure beautifully, staring at yourself in the mirror as you tugged on your black, leather heeled Chelsea boots.

You’d only done concealer and mascara for your make-up. Nothing too fancy for a little date.

“Not bad, Y/N. Not bad at all.” You smiled at yourself. You had curled your long hair, tucking one side behind your ear.

You looked behind you, seeing the small box you discovered sitting on your kitchen counter. You glanced at the clock on the wall, seeing you still had some time to kill before your date got here.

After a few minutes of running around your apartment and gathering things like a toothbrush, washing up liquid, a small paintbrush, and paper towels; you set up your little workspace on the counter to clean the box.

You dipped the toothbrush in the soapy water, gently scrubbing the dirt from the box, using the paintbrush to brush any specks of dirt off it.

Some time had passed, and you could finally see the beauty beneath the dirt.

“What are these?” You mumbled to yourself, looking at the strange engraved marks on the box. The box looked silver, but you couldn’t be sure.

Carefully prying the box open with your fingertips, you revealed inside a stranger kind of necklace.

Your head tilted to the side and your brows furrowed together as the small spiral pendant looked almost familiar. Like you had owned one before but forgot about it. A very distant memory.

It was silver, in the shape of an upside-down hammer. The leather cord that was with it had deteriorated, falling apart as soon as you picked up the pendant.

You cleaned off the pendant in the soapy water, patting it dry with a paper towel. Quickly going back to your room and grabbing one of your necklaces, you took the chain from it. Going back to the kitchen where you carefully hooped the pendant onto the silver chain.

Should I...

You pondered for a moment, staring at the pendant in your hand. You raised the chain around your neck, clasping it together at the hooks as it hung on your chest. You stilled for a moment, almost expecting something to happen when you put it on.

“Idiot,” You laughed at yourself, going over to where a mirror was to see how it looked on. But as soon as you took a step forwards, it felt like you began falling. You could hear the chants again from the woods, the drums pounding around you, almost deafeningly loud. Your eyes widened in terror as you couldn’t move your body as you fell back, the floor of your apartment swallowing you in a rabbit hole.

Lights surrounded you in all different colors, seeing silhouettes in the corner of your eye. Were they the ones chanting?

Oh god, oh fuck, oh shit.

Your breathing became labored, struggling to get air as you tried desperately to move your limbs.

The drumming and chanting only growing louder the deeper you fell into this rabbit hole.

Silence.

Suddenly the chanting and drums stopped, looking up to see the disfigured sky. You attempted to move your limbs again, gasping when you found you could move.

You kicked your way up to the sky, gasping for air once you broke through.

The sound of lapping waves and squalling seagulls invaded your ears, a sudden chill going over your body.

You looked around you with wide eyes, astonished by your surroundings. You were in the fucking ocean.

“What the fuck?!” You shrieked out, panic set over you as you tried to stay afloat, legs kicking under the water furiously.

“You’re dreaming. You must have gotten a concussion,” you repeated to yourself. “Yeah, yeah. You’re concussed.”

“You there!”

You snapped your head to see a wooden boat sailing towards you, numerous men aboard it as they all peered down at you. One man, in particular, stood at the arch of the boat, big and with a long braided bear. He was bald, tattoos around his head in strange patterns.

“Did you get lost, woman?” He belly laughed, the other men joining in. You were too much in shock to try and even say anything back. “Frode, throw the poor woman a rope.”

One of the men, skinner than the one barking orders, threw a thick rope towards you, splashing into the water in front of you, the water spraying on your face.

You grabbed the rope, unsure whether or not being on a boat with strangers or being in the ocean alone was better. The men heaved you up to the boat, letting your body hit the deck of it like a wet fish.

You panted slightly, trying to calm your thundering heart before it jumped out your throat.

You weren’t facing the men, your eyes locked onto your hands that dug into the wooden deck, trying to desperately grasp onto some kind of reality.

“Holy fuck.” You gasped out.

“Someone get her something to cover herself with!” The bald, bearded man ordered. Someone came over and wrapped some kind of cloak on you, you quickly tied it on your neck, trying to get warm.

“What kind of clothing is she wearing?” Another man spoke.

“A whore, perhaps?” Another replied.

“Whore!?” You repeated, turning to look at the men for the first time. “Who do you think you're calling a whore?”

The expressions on the men’s faces changed as soon as you looked up at them. The sudden change in mood made you want to cower away. Are these cosplayers? Re-enactors? Why did they dress that way?

“Freyja.” The bald one spoke, barely a whisper.

“Freyja?” You repeated. Who?

You’d never heard such a name before, were they calling you that? The men exchanged a look, communicating with their eyes before turning back to you.

“What’s your name?” The bald one asks, his tone in voice changing.

“Y/N,” you reply, beginning to stand up. “Where is this? Where are we right now?”

“Kattegat.” Someone spoke, earning a quick shove by the person next to him.

Your brows frowned together. Kattegat? Maybe you should have paid more attention in geography class when you were in school.

“Tie her up. We must show the Princes, this is an imposter of Freyja.” The bald one spoke again before walking away, his face unreadable.

“Wait!” You exclaimed, looking around as the men closed in on you, starting to grab you. “Get your fucking hands off of me!”

You elbowed the man who grabbed your from behind, hearing a grunt from him as he doubled over, making you flick your long hair out of your face.

“If anyone touches me, I’ll rip your fucking limbs off.” You warned, getting into a fighting stance with your balled fists in the air. You were outnumbered, by many. Before you could even say another word, one of the men quickly backhanded you across the face, knocking you down to the floor where they all cornered you.

—————————

The bald man, whose name you had learned was Magnus, threw you onto the ground with force, causing you to land on your shoulder. A groan left your lips as pain tingled down your arm.

“Don’t fucking throw me, you bald bastard!” You shouted at him, your hands restrained behind your back and your ankles tied together also, restraining you of trying to run off. Your hair had fallen across your face, limiting your view of your surroundings.

The whole hall of people turned to look at you, hearing small whispers about your clothing. The music had stopped playing and the cheers.

Who the fuck were these people?

You could barely make out four men sitting at a large table in front of you, maybe a few feet away, two with fair hair and two with dark.

“What’s the meaning of this, Magnus?” You heard one of them say, his accent making your ears perk up. “Did any of you ask for a thrall for the night?” He directed his question to the men beside him.

“My apologies, Prince Ubbe, but...” The bald man suddenly seemed nervous, unsure of what exactly to say. It made you scoff. A big guy like him was scared of these guys? “We found her in the sea--”

“Spit it out, before I rip your tongue out.” Another man at the table spoke, the threat taking you off guard. His accent was the same.

“We believe she’s an imposter and a volva.”

“An imposter and a volva?” another one of the men at the table snickered. “Sound’s interesting, Ubbe.”

“Who are you calling an imposter?” You sneered at the men. “I don’t even know you.”

“Watch your mouth, whore!” You heard, gasping as one of the men who tied you kicked you in your side.

“Enough.” You heard the first man say, hearing the chair he was sitting in move across the floor. “I asked you what the meaning of this was? You’re spoiling our celebration.”

The bald man grabbed the back of your head, gripping onto your hair as he roughly pulled you onto your knees, making you wince. Your hair moved from your face in the process and you could finally see around you. At the table sat the four men, the Princes, you had gathered.

All handsome— wait. Not the right time.

Their faces were twisted in an expression you had never seen before on someone as soon as they looked at you. The whole of the hall went deathly quiet as eyes were on you.

One of the men at the table stood up abruptly, his hands on the table. He had four twisted braids in his dark hair, his eyes a piercing blue as they stared at you. They were the bluest eyes you had ever seen.

Those eyes. You’d seen them before.

“Freyja.” He said to you. Again with the name.

Your head was tugged back, knocking you out of your trance and filling your chest with rage. Ripping your eye contact from him, you turned your attention to the man behind you.

“Get your hands off me before I break them.” You growled out.

Whispers broke out around you, you scowled at them all. What were they all wearing? Are these Vikings?

Your E/C eyes find their way to the blue ones again, he seemed to tense when you looked at him, his breath catching in his throat. It was like he was a statue.

The one with long brown hair with two braids going into one and green eyes stood up.

“Everybody leave.” Was all he said for everyone to leave the room. “You men can also leave. Get out.”

The men behind you began to leave, Magnus let your hair suddenly go from his grip, letting you land onto your face.

“Fuck.” You whimpered out, a tingling pain going up your nose. The only people left in the large hall were you and the four strange men, you strangely began to feel small.

The blonde man who was at the head of the table began to make his way towards you, his footsteps stopping once in front of you. Was this the one they called Ubbe?

“You,” He kneeled on one knee as he grabbed your jaw with his index finger and thumb. “What is your name?”

You hold your tongue, refusing to tell him. But this only made his grip on your jaw tighten.

“If you want to keep your tongue, I suggest you answer when spoken to.” He said lowly, his eyes just as blue as the man behind him. Were they brothers?

You stare into his eyes, trying to stare him down like a dog but his eyes never faltered. His stare was incredibly intimidating.

You gave an exasperating huff of breath, rolling your eyes to yourself.

“Y/N. My name is Y/N Y/L/N.”

He kept staring at you, his eyes studying your face. His eyes looked sad as if pained as he looked at you. His jaw clenched and unclenched before he spoke again. “Why were you in the sea?”

“I don’t know, one moment I was in my home and the next I was in the water.” You knew this had to do with the necklace and the drumming in the woods. It all has to link up somehow. You went to reach up to grab it but remembered your hands were tied.

His eyes moved from yours as he removed his hand from your jaw, turning to the other men at the table. Your eyes followed. Both the one with blue eyes and the blonde one with fluffy hair were frozen in place still. It’s like they’ve seen a ghost.

The one kneeling in front of you raised his eyebrows at the one with the braids as if asking him what to do. He walked over to the both of you, gawking down at you with his green eyes.

“It’s as if she’d risen from the dead, but how can that be? We saw her body that day.” He said, staring down at you.

“Can someone just explain to me what’s going on?” You pipped up. A loud bang caused you to jump, looking towards the cause of the noise. The blue-eyed man had gotten up, his chair fallen behind him and his hands pressed against the surface of the table. His chest was heaving under his leather armor. His face was twisted with anger and hurt, barely looking at you as he grabbed his crutch.

“I don’t care what you do with her," he looked over to you with eyes so intense, your lips parted as your breath hitched in your throat. You felt your heart dip into your stomach.

Holy shit. Those eyes... Where have you seen them before?

"She's not Freyja." He walked out the hall and passed you, his crutch stabbing into the wood beneath him in anger, he looked as if he was almost snarling as he walked through the doors.

“Ivar--” The one with the green eyes called after him, going to walk after him but the one who was knelt suddenly stood up, holding a hand against his chest.

“Leave him, this must be a shocking sight for him. He needs time.”

“Can you untie me so I can leave?” You cut in, the rope irritating the skin off your wrists. The men ignored you, the blonde fluffy-haired one finally speaking up after this whole time.

“You can’t let her leave.”

—————————

You sat awkwardly in the chair, fiddling with your fingers on your lap as the three men stared at you. The fluffy-haired one had untied you but sat you in the chair at the large table, the green-eyed one threatening that if you tried anything then you’d regret it.

Scary.

They spoke as if you weren’t even there too.

“What kind of clothes is she wearing? She's dressed like a prostitute.” The one with the two braids spoke, cutting an apple slowly with a knife before placing it in his mouth.

Your gaze turned to him, anger rising in your chest. What was with these guys? Do they have no respect?

“Say that again,” You pointed your finger towards him. “and I’ll spoon your eyes out. How can you say anything about what I'm wearing when you’re dressed like a rodent in all those furs?”

The man stared at you for a moment before smirking. Who are you smiling at, you bastard--

“With a mouth like hers, she certainly isn’t Freyja. She wouldn’t dare speak like that.” He said. "Even if she is identical to her."

“That’s because I’m not Freyja. And you do know that this is kidnapping, right? You can get put into jail because of this.”

The brothers exchanged a look.

“And where would you find one of those?” Asked the one with the long braid, Ubbe, you remembered. “We’re the sons of Ragnar, nobody can tell us what we can or cannot do.”

Your eyebrows frowned, looking at them sideways at you felt dumbfounded.

Who is Ragnar?

“As if I know, or care, who Ragnar is. Let me go.” You huffed, folding your arms over your chest. Shit, it was cold here. Even this cloak did nothing to help with your soaking clothes.

Their expressions only looked more confused, as if they were more confused than you are and couldn't understand how you didn't know who Ragnar is.

“Where are you from?” The one eating asked.

“Tell me your names and then I’ll tell you what you want to know.” You cocked an eyebrow at them. If they were stupid enough, they’d tell you so you can report them to the police once you find a way out of here.

God, the air here smells like constant shit. You want to go home already, to your scented candles to cleanse your nose of this stench.

“Curious thing, aren’t you? I’m Hvitserk,” Hvitserk pointed to the other men with the end of his knife. “these are my brothers, Ubbe and Sigurd.”

Ubbe smiled at you as Sigurd only stood still, unsure of what to say to you.

“And the blue-eyed one who walked out?” You asked.

“That was Ivar, our youngest brother.”

“What was his problem?” You quizzed again. Shut up, Y/N. This curiosity is the reason why you’re here in the first place.

Ubbe and Hvitserk looked at you before exchanging a look between them, Sigurd shifting on his feet as he cleared his throat. You noticed his jaw clench and his fists tighten at his sides.

“Well?” You repeated, waiting for an answer from one of them.

“The woman you resemble—” Ubbe began, getting cut off by a nudge from Hvitserk.

“Is it wise to tell her?” He asked his brother lowly, his green eyes looking at you.

“You do not think she deserves to know?”

“She could be deceiving us, a volva like the men said,” Hvitserk warned his brother.

You could only roll your eyes at them as you shifted in the chair, crossing your legs over.

“I don’t know what that is, but I can assure you I'm not deceiving you. I just want to know what’s going on.” You sighed, tucking your hair behind your ears.

“You resemble a woman called ‘Freyja’,” Sigurd spoke suddenly, looking into the bright flame that burned in the hall. His brothers turned to look at him with you. “No, you don’t resemble her. You are her.”

“Who is Freyja?” You asked.

“She was my first love.” He turned to look at you. “And Ivar's.”

Hvitserk and Ubbe sat back in the chairs, staying deadly quiet as their brother spoke to you. Their first love?

“What happened to her?” The question made your heart sink, taking you off guard. Why do you care?

“She died protecting us all. She was the most beautiful and loved woman in Kattegat, every man wanted her hand in marriage. Including all of us,” Sigurd suggested to his brothers, making Ubbe take a sip out of his cup and Hvitserk turn his gaze.

“A king came one day, wanting to trade. But once his eyes set on Freyja, demanding to marry her or risk causing a war between us. We all agreed to go to war, prepared, made an army. She refused to cause a war over her, Freyja had always hated violence.”

Sigurd took a shaky breath, his hands trembling in the light of the fire. The sight was enough to let you know how much he was affected by this.

“She... she was in love with Ivar. The thought of either losing him in battle or by marrying herself off was too much for her to ever bare. The day of the battle, Freyja stood between armies, in the middle of the battle field,” His eyes looked at yours, something flashing over them. “She drove a sword through herself in front of everyone. She did it for her love.”

The words made your breath hitch in your throat.

She killed herself... for him?

Your eyes tore away from Sigurd’s figure, looking anywhere but at the brothers.

No wonder Ivar left, you thought. Imagine seeing the woman you loved kill herself in front of you and then seeing her alive again...

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly, staring at your lap. “But I just want to go home. I have a family there, friends. They’re probably searching for me.”

“It’s dark out now,” Ubbe spoke, clearing his throat as he stood. “You should rest here for the night and begin searching for your way back in the morning. We'll help you.”

You nodded a 'thank you', standing from your chair. Hvitserk looked at your soaking clothes, turning to Sigurd.

"Tell one of the thralls to prepare some clothes for Y/N. She can't sleep in those."

Sigurd nodded, walking down a passageway and out of sight. You could see a grateful look on his face towards his brother for getting him out the room.

"You still haven't told me where you're from." Hvitserk turned his attention to you, leaning back against the table.

"Honestly, I don't think any of you will know where I'm from. But I can tell you I'm not from here. I come from a different time." You uttered, holding the necklace under your cloak, your thumb grazing the lines in it. "Someone or something brought me here, I want to know why."

#vikings #ivar the boneless #reader #ivar x reader #sigurd lothbrok #sigurd x reader #Ubbe Lothbrok #ubbe x reader #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk x reader #ivar lothbrok #ragnarssons #hvitserk smut #ubbe smut #ivar smut #sigurd snake in the eye

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firefly464 · 4 years

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The Real World - Chapter 9

:insert eyes emoji here because shits about to get real:

@i-have-this-now wrote the last part because she’s great and amazing and wonderful :D

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~~~

Wilbur sat in his office, staring at his computer screen in dismay. It had been roughly a week since him and Tubbo had gone and visited Tommy. Roughly a week since his friend's panic attack. A week since Tommy had started acting differently. His friend had been acting secretive all week, almost terrified in a strange way. He acted as if no one could see the way he flinched at loud noises, or the fearful look in his eyes whenever someone came too close. He had fumbled around with the phone, as if not even knowing how to use it. He had talked to Dream in an almost pleading tone, begging for… something, and Will didn’t know what it was. He had never seen his friend acting like that before.

His hand traced over the long scar on his arm that Tommy had given him during his panic attack. He didn’t blame his friend at all for the wound, in fact it was mostly his own fault for trying to comfort him. At that moment, it had been clear that Tommy hadn’t actually been seeing him. He had seen someone, or something else. In Wilbur’s concern for his friend, he had reached out to comfort him, despite the fact that he knew it was a bad idea.

His stupidity had earned him a long, jagged cut down the side of his forearm from the pencil that Tommy had been wielding as a weapon. He had jerked back with a hiss of pain. “Get the fuck away from me! I won’t let you hurt anyone else!” Tommy had screamed.

Tubbo took a small step forward, his hands out in front of him comfortingly “Tommy, you’re ok, I promise. No one is going to hurt you.” His voice was soft and calm, as if he was talking to a wild animal. Based on the look in Tommy’s eyes, it wasn’t too far off from the truth.

Tommy’s blue eyes had snapped over to Tubbo, as if trying to figure out what he was supposed to do. “Tubbo? Tubbo you need to run! He’s going to kill you, he’s going to fucking kill you and burn our home to the ground!”

“Hey, it's all right. I’m fine, see? No one is going to kill me.”

Desperately, Tommy grabbed his friend's shoulders, trying to get it through Tubbo’s head that he needed to run. “You don’t get it. H-He’s going to kill all of you. You need to find the others and warn them. I can’t… I can’t fucking lose you.”

“Tommy, take a deep breath. You’re safe. I promise that we’re both safe.”

“But Dream-” he shuttered, a wave of sobs running through him, “God this is my fault. Why the fuck did I listen to him? Now you’re all going to fucking die because of me!”

Wilbur stared intently at the scar on his arm, trying to figure out what the hell Tommy had meant. Clearly, Dream had done something to him. But what? What had he done that was so terrible, it had caused the boy to collapse over a simple video clip? Will had rewatched the clip several times, trying to pinpoint exactly what could have possibly triggered the terrible PTSD. He had found nothing.

After WIlbur and Tubbo had left Tommy’s house, it had seemed like things were slowly but surely returning back to normal. Tommy had quickly gone from acting as if he knew nothing about the world around him or how to do anything, to slowly but surely returning to his old, chipper self. Even so, it didn’t feel right. Something was still wrong. His jokes all felt forced, his smiles all fake. Whenever they were in a call together, his words all felt carefully planned out, as if he were scared of saying something wrong. No one brought up his outburst, but it was clear that they were all thinking about it.

At one point, Tubbo had hesitantly suggested that Tommy get on the DreamSMP, clearly scared of triggering another panic attack.

However, Tommy had just gone silent, before very quietly saying, “What…?” His voice had been filled with a hesitant hope. Hope for what, Will didn’t know. But it was something that he hadn’t heard in his friend's voice all week, and he wasn’t going to question it.

“The SMP? The server?” “How do I… How do I do that?” He had asked quietly.

Tubbo had ended up walking his friend through the entire process of getting online, never once asking why or sounding annoyed. It was clear how important this was to Tommy, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to ruin it by teasing.

As Tommy had logged onto the server, the discord call was silent. No one spoke as he spun in a slow circle, taking in everything around him. Not a word was muttered as he cautiously moved around. The only sound that could be heard were the quiet sobs being picked up by his mic.

“Home…” He had whispered quietly, the sound just barely loud enough to be picked up over discord.

God, none of it made any sense. None of it made any damn sense, and just thinking about it made Wilbur’s head hurt. Tommy acted as though he was an entirely different person. At first, Will had just attributed his strange behavior to PTSD. A strange way of coping after whatever hell he had gone through. But now… Now he wasn’t so sure. Tommy was recovering far too quickly for it to be merely PTSD. So what the hell was going on? He needed to talk to Tubbo. They needed answers.

~~~

The next day, Tommy was sitting in front of his computer, staring at the walls of L’manberg. Looking at it made his chest hurt with homesickness, but it was his only connection to his old life. It may not have been as impressive as the real thing, but it was still beautiful in its own right. Ever since the others had shown him the server, he had spent most of his time on it. He hadn’t exactly done anything, but simply walking around the familiar lands of his home felt calming.

A ring sounded from his computer, making him jump. It took him a couple seconds to calm down enough to register that it was only an incoming call, and not any sort of attack. With a slightly trembling hand, he answered.

Silence. “Hello?” he asked, trying to see what was going on.

“Hey Tommy.” Tubbo’s voice was reserved, almost nervous in a way. Tommy could feel his muscles tense. The last time he had heard his friend speak like this was during the war. Something had happened. Something must have happened.

“What's wrong? Are you ok? Did something bad happen?” he asked, trying to figure out what was going on.

“What? No, no. We just uh… We just wanted to ask you something.”

“I mean, go for it…? Are you sure everything is alright?”

“We’re fine. Tommy, I want you to answer me honestly, got it?” Wilbur’s voice cut interrupted his rampaging thoughts. Thoughts of how his friends were hurt. Thoughts of what had gone wrong. Thoughts of how Dream might have gotten to them… “Tommy, what happened to you?”

“I told you already. I don’t remember,” he replied half heartedly, his mind elsewhere.

“I think we all know that isn’t true. Tommy, what did Dream do?”

That brought his train of thought to a screeching halt. What did they know? How did they figure it out? What had he done wrong? “W-what? What do you mean?”

“Alright, I’ll let you in on a little secret. Tommyinit wasn’t this shit of a liar. He was bad at it, yeah, but at least he could lie without sounding like a moron. I’m going to ask this once, and I expect a straight answer. Who the hell are you?”

Tommy felt like his blood had frozen in his veins. They knew, they fucking knew. Dream was going to kill him. Dream was going to follow through with his threat. “I uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Wilbur ran a hand through his hair. “Alright. If you aren’t going to give us a straight answer, I might as well ask Dream himself.”

“NO!” He screamed. If Will went and asked Dream, then Dream would think that Tommy had snitched. Then, who knows what would happen. “Please don’t talk to Dream about it. Please.”

Will had already left the call.

~~~

“Yeah, you’re right, chat. Hold on let me check if he’s online,” Eret said, switching browsers from Minecraft to Discord. “Yep, he’s in VC 3 with Tubbo.”

Eret clicked on the voice chat. He tried to talk yet Tubbo cut him off. “Oh fuck, we aren’t in a private VC.”

“Sorry, a wha-”

“Er… Hello?” Eret said. The two of them suddenly stopped talking. “So, what’re you two up to?”

“...Eret?” Tommy said, it sounded more like a statement than a question.

“Am I intruding on something? I can go if you’d like.” Eret replied, hoping to lighten the tension on the situation. Eret’s twitch chat was going insane, spamming questions and shouting. Eret wasn’t really focused on the chat.

“Hold on, I think we should go to a privat-” Tubbo spoke but was cut off.

“No, that- that’s not right- I- you fucking-” Tommy started, and was immediately removed from the VC. Tubbo also exited the VC seconds after.

“It is actually getting a bit late here so I guess it’s time to end the stream.” Eret tried to make an excuse to end the stream. “I’ll see you later guys. I love you all so much, thank you for all the support this stream. I think I’m gonna be streaming tomorrow? Still not sure. Anyways, I’ll see you guys later. Peace.”

He quickly exited Twitch and stopped streaming. Tommy sounded… mad? Upset? Scared? Eret didn’t know. He opened Discord and sent a message to Tommy.

TheEret Today at 8:52 pm

You alright?

He instantly got a Discord notification back, but it wasn’t from Tommy.

Tubbo_ Today at 8:52 pm

can we private VC?

TheEret Today at 8:53 pm

sure

The second he sent the message, he got a call from Tubbo. “Hey, Eret.” Tubbo said. “I… I don’t think Tommy’s feeling too well. I’m really not sure what happened.”

“Oh god. Is he okay?” Eret asked, concern creeping into his voice.

“I- hold on, I’ll dm him and see if he wants to talk.”

“Alright.”

A few seconds passed. “Oh. Oh no.” Tubbo said.

“Wait, did something happen? What’d he say?”

“He’s very… mad at you. I- Oh jeez, that’s a lot of messages- I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Do you think it’s because of the SMP? I- you know it was just a bit, right?” Eret asked. Surely, Tommy can’t be mad at him because of a video game right?

“Yeah, yeah, but he’s… he sounds pissed, man. I don’t know wha- Oh. Shit, hold on, he wants to be added in the call. You okay with that?”

Honestly, Eret wasn’t sure. “Uh- yes?”

“Eret.” Tommy’s voice rang through the call. His voice was quiet and stable, unlike his usual self. “What the fuck.”

“I- I’m sorry? I don’t know what I did wrong. Was it the SMP? You know that was a-”

“You could’ve been on the right side of history, Eret. You could’ve-”

“Tommy, calm-”

“Instead, you chose to loot us and leave us for dead. You chose power. You chose to be with Dream.”

Wait, were they supposed to be in character? Eret just ended his stream, so was Tubbo streaming? Or was it something else?

He immediately switched into character, hoping it was the right move. “Well, it wasn’t hard for me to choose. You were fighting for something futile, something you didn’t guarantee. I chose Dream because you were fighting a losing battle, and I didn’t want to get the short end of the stick.”

Whilst he was talking, Eret sent Tubbo a Discord message.

TheEret Today at 9:12 pm Are you and tommy streaming?

Tubbo_ Today at 9:12 pm no?

TheEret Today at 9:12 pm so i’m not supposed to be in character?

Tubbo_ Today at 9:12 pm uhh yeah

Before Eret could wrap his head around the situation, another person joined the call. It was Wilbur. “Dream said you have 48 hours, Tommy wh- wait, why is Eret here?”

Before Eret could respond, he was kicked from the call. He stared at his monitor in stunned silence, not entirely sure of what had just happened. Tommy had seemed so mad at him for his “betrayal,” even though none of them were supposed to be in character. Why was he so upset? And why did Wilbur react to Eret being there in the way that he did? Had he said something wrong? Was there some sort of planned stream that Eret wasn’t told about?

Eret turned off his computer with a sigh. His mind was racing with possibilities of what had just happened and why, but he wouldn’t be able to act on his thoughts until tomorrow. All he could do now was sleep.

~~~ On the other side of the country, a man sat in front of his computer. A sadistic grin sat upon his face as his green eyes pierced through the dim light. “I warned you not to tell them Tommy. Now, it's time to face the consequences of your actions.”

~~~

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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years

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Odin’s Ward ~ Chapter 16

Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/639618035738607616/odins-ward-chapter-15

Pairing: Loki x female reader

Word count: 1836

Warnings: Brief mentions of death

True age: Y/n: 1449 // Loki: 1575 // Thor: 1827 // Audunn 3213

Human equivalent age: Y/n: 23 // Loki: 25 // Thor: 29// Audunn: 51

Loki’s POV

The trial is brutal.

In the course of his attempt to save his life, Audunn does everything he can to discredit Y/n. He paints her as a liar, a schemer, the mastermind behind the coup, and at one point, even accuses her of sleeping with his servant, Sveinn.

But she faces it with her head held high and takes none of it, delivering her account of the coup honestly and clearly.

She will make a great queen someday, and I can see by the sparkle in his eye that Odin recognizes this too.

In the end, the evidence against Audunn is too damning, and he is sentenced to death, to be carried out in two days time. It comes a shock to no one, except maybe him, and he meets the verdict with false claims of injustice and conspiracy. He has to be dragged from the courtroom.

Y/n watches him go, flinching slightly when he gives her a look of such hatred, I can feel it in my own bones. Thor — the dutiful fiancé — shields her from Audunn’s view.

After we are dismissed, Y/n disappears, and I resist the urge to go looking for her. She probably wishes to be on her own, and I have no right to offer her comfort, anyway. But fate, it seems, has other plans, and a few hours later, I find her sitting in the gardens, absently staring at a light pink flower.

I have to say her name twice before she notices my presence. She looks up, blinking as if working herself out of a daze.

“Oh, hi Loki,” she murmurs, staring at my shoulder rather than my face.

I’ve never seen her like this. The Y/n I know has always had a bite to her, a spark of passion. But the woman before me may as well be a shell of Y/n, for all the light that is in her eyes.

I’m at a complete loss for what to do.

So, without thinking, I conjure a bottle of wine and hold it out to her, sitting next to her on the bench.

She looks between me and the bottle, and then the clouds in her eyes break and she gives a soft laugh. She takes the bottle and drinks deeply, clutching it to her chest when she’s finished. “We cannot solve all our problems with alcohol.”

I try to study her inconspicuously, still concerned for her state of mind. “Yes, but it can take the edge off.”

She chuckles more freely, taking another long drink. “When I am queen, that shall be the cornerstone of my domestic policy — your children might be starving, but here, have something to drink! It’ll take the edge off.” Then, with a noise between a laugh and a sob, she forces the bottle back into my grasp and drops her head into her hands. “Oh my gods. What went wrong, Loki? How did we mess up our lives this badly?”

I shake my head vehemently. I know I’ve screwed up, but she’s done nothing of the sort. “You’ve not done anything wrong.”

“Haven’t I?” She raises her head, and when she looks at me, I can see her eyes brim with tears. “I fell in love with you when I knew I would belong to someone else.”

I furrow my eyebrows, confused as to why she’s upset about something so out of her control. “You didn’t choose to—”

She raises a challenging eyebrow. “I cheated on my husband with you.”

Does she regret that? I try again to stop her self-berating. “That was my fault, I—”

She begins to talk over me, her voice growing more hysterical with every word. “I let an innocent servant be beaten half to death because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. My people were massacred while I relaxed in the bath—”

“—Y/n please, stop this. It isn’t—”

She refuses to be consoled. “I’ve sent my husband to his death. I looked him in the eye and condemned him! And I will never love Thor. He doesn’t deserve that. I’ve taken away his chance at happiness with Jane, I—my chest hurts — I can’t breathe.” She gasps through panicked sobs.

Without thinking, I place the bottle on the ground and gather her in my arms. She clutches at my shirt, shaking and gasping in shallow breaths. We hold onto each other too tightly, like if we relax even slightly, the other will crumble apart.

“Okay,” I try to soothe, my own voice wavering with worry. “Okay, deep breaths.” We draw in air and exhale together. I bring my hand to the back of her head and draw what I hope are calming lines with my thumb. After a few minutes, she regains control of her breathing and leans further into me, visibly exhausted. I lay my cheek against her hair, grateful that she seems to be through the worst of it but knowing she’s not out of the woods yet — I’ve had enough panic attacks to know how volatile they can be. “When was the last time you slept?”

“I don’t know.”

As gently as I can, I stand, pulling her with me. “Come.”

She doesn’t protest when I transport us inside her chambers, though she does look a bit sick at all the movement. I walk her to her bed then bring her a glass of water — something I probably should have provided her with initially, instead of the wine.

“I’m sorry,” she nearly whimpers, sagging against the pillows.

Immediately, I shake my head. “There’s no need to apologize. I…”

Don’t do it, I beg myself. Don’t give in…it will only hurt you both. You are undeserving of her love, and probably incapable of giving it back.

But I have always been selfish. I am unable to stop myself from repeating her words to me from a few days ago, showing just how deeply I have taken them to heart. “I am always on your side.”

This seems to calm her. She sighs contentedly, her eyes fluttering shut. Within seconds, she’s asleep.

I know I should leave. But instead of walking out the door like I planned, I find myself settling on the couch facing her bed. Now that Y/n is settled, I take notice of the exhaustion in my own body — sleep frequently eludes me, too. And, without meaning to, I drift off to sleep.

Y/n’s POV

I awake to the soft peals of bells in the distance and the first rays of the sun. For the first time in while, I feel rested. I did not wake once, it seems, and slept soundly from afternoon to early morning.

There’s a figure lying on my couch.

Loki is too long for the small furniture, so he sleeps curled up, wrapped in his cape. He looks so innocent and peaceful that it makes my stomach hurt, because I know those qualities will flee once he wakes. He’s gone through so much. And yes, a good part of it is by his own hand, but still, I ache with the desire to see him well-cared for and happy and free of the weight he keeps himself under.

As if feeling my gaze, he stirs. He stretches out, groaning softly, then sits up straight, blinking to adjust to the limited light.

We stare at each other for a moment before I gather the courage to speak. “Good morning.”

I feel unsure.

How many times had we woken up together, in much more intimate contexts than this?

But this moment…this moment feels dangerous. It teeters on the edge of something familiar, something we could so easily slip back into….

He swallows, holding my gaze with equal gravity.

Then, he breaks it. “I’m sorry. I should not have stayed.” He gets up, and moves to the door.

But I am not ready to let this moment go, and I call after him. “No—I don’t mind. Please, stay.”

He looks at me over his shoulder, uncertainty in his eyes and…hope?

Unsure what exactly compels me to move, I rise from the bed. I take my time walking to him, fearful that if I move too quickly or too loudly, all this will fade away. When I reach him, I stop just short of our shoes touching.

The words I feel so strongly come out as no more than a breath. “I want you to stay.”

Slowly, hesitantly, and with all the force of a brush of air, he takes my hand in his. “We cannot fall back into old habits.” But even as he says this, he steps closer, bringing up his fingers to twine in the ends of my hair.

I’m unable to stop my free hand from running up his chest. He feels so familiar, so solid, so safe. “We would be terrible people to do so.” Somehow, my lips are now only centimeters from his.

His grip tightens in my hair. “I wish I cared about that.” My fingers brush against his neck, and his lips touch mine.

A sharp knock echoes through the room.

I jump, and Loki closes his eyes, leaning his forehead against mine. “Send them away.”

“Yes,” I agree, reluctantly releasing him from my hold and pushing him out of sight. As I walk to my chamber door, I have to blink a few times to steady myself.

Am I really going to do this? Aren’t I strong enough to stop myself?

Do I want to stop myself?

I pull open the door, to reveal a smiling Thor.

Oh gods.

“Thor,” I half-gasp, the excitement and peace I felt just a seconds ago shattering on the ground. “I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you.”

He eyes my rumpled dress—yesterday’s dress—with amusement. “I can see that.”

I feel heat gather in my cheeks. “Yes, uh…I was so exhausted after yesterday’s events that I fell asleep in the afternoon and only just woke up a few moments ago. I should call Ragna and dress for the day.”

“Perhaps that would be wise,” he agrees politely. “And after, would you be so kind as to join me in the dining hall? I would enjoy sharing breakfast with you.”

“Oh.”

Because he’s my fiancé.

Fiancé’s spend time together.

Former lovers do not.

Oh, I am awful.

I force a too-sunny smile to my face. “Yes, I would like that as well. I shall be there shortly.”

He bows, and brings the back of my hand to his lips for a kiss.

I’m the worst. The shame makes me feel ill.

I close the door. As much as I dread doing so, it is Loki I must send away. Because he is not my intended.

Gathering my resolve, I turn to search for him.

But he is already gone.

A/n Hey everyone, sorry for the month in between posts! I don’t know why, but I just could NOT get myself to write this chapter! But I finally figured out what I wanted to say and how I wanted to say it, so here ya go!

Comments, likes, and reblogs mean the world to me! Let me know if you would like to be added or removed from the tag list.

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