Tags are at the bottom. As always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated.
A Million Reasons
Rolling over in the bed, you sigh, realizing Dean isn’t next to you. Not that you’d expect it, not lately. You know where he is. Either at a bar or in the library drinking whiskey, or passed out on whatever surface seemed the most appealing in a drunken stupor.
You can’t remember the last time he’s smiled at you, or held you or said a kind word. Lately, it had been a constant stream of arguments and tears. The pain was bone deep, the hurt, the rejection that you felt on a daily basis, it was wearing you down.
Trying to wait it out, trying to be supportive, giving him space, it was taking a toll on you. It was breaking you. You were running out of reasons to stay.
Sam hears her sobs through the bedroom door as he makes his way to the kitchen. He hesitates, his hand on the knob. He doesn’t know if he should try to comfort her or if he should give her the dignity of privacy.
What he does know is that it can’t keep going on this way. Dean is lost is his own grief, angry and bitter, hiding in his cups and taking his pain out on the both of them. She gets the brunt of it, and it kills Sam. She doesn’t deserve it.
Sam is just about to turn the knob when he hears the bunker door swing open and the heavy tread of Dean’s boot on the staircase. He shifts back and forth from foot to foot trying to decide which direction to go.
With a heavy sigh, he removes his hand from the knob and turns to confront his brother.
sighed, your heart easily feeling heavy as you emptied out your resolve with that
one text. You thought hard, the past three and a half months with Namjoon had
been a dream, and now, more than ever, you felt like all you did was receive
from him. In the countless random moments you had with him, you tried to look
for a clue where he might be.
Was he in that coffee shop that played the best music? Was he in the
school cafeteria where he finally acknowledged that the lunch ladies can
actually make decent food? Was he in the library where you first got to know
him as your crash course Philosophy tutor? Or was he in between all of those
moments, somehow still by your side while knowing that you saw through him and was
looking for something that he did not have?
And in these questions, you found the answer.
Your feet moved faster than you could comprehend as your frantic fingers
pressed for his name. There was a short ring as you climbed the stairs.
“Hello?” his deep voice will never fail to catch you off-guard.
“Namjoon, I know exactly where you are.” you declared, catching your
breath at the last flight of stairs. “I want to see you, but I don’t think
you’d want to see me.”
You heard him sigh, chuckling below his breath, laughing at how well you
seem to know him. “You must know a lot about me, Y/N-ssi.”
The formality somehow made you sad as you traced your steps towards a
Kim Namjoon was the vice president of the student council. He was VP
Namjoon in your phone before he became Joonie, before he started to be someone you cared for. That was
his identity before you and seeing him through the
window from where you stood in the hallway, sitting on his desk in the student
council room with the late afternoon sunlight washing over his melancholic
face, made you realize how you seem to be going backwards. As if you were going
back to where you started… before Namjoon and towards Yoongi and maybe, the
past before that too.
It was a bittersweet feeling, but slowly, eventually, that moment became
your eureka. If you really were going back to where all of these started, then
you were going to do it right.
“We’re alike and lately, maybe too alike.” You smiled as you watched him
fiddle with the hem of his jacket with his head hung low. “I’m sorry, Namjoon.”
You choked out. Maybe he sensed it, maybe he heard you through the thin walls,
but he began looking around for you and you had to fling yourself to the
nearest wall to prevent him from seeing you. “Don’t… look up. Look out the
window or something. I don’t think I can say what I want to say while looking
in your eyes.”
You peeked from where you stood and saw that he had indeed turned his
back and looked out of the window. With a hand in his pocket and the other
holding the phone against his ear, he said with a stable voice, “Okay, I’m
ready. Today is the day, huh.”
“I’m sorry.” You repeated weakly, stepping out to look at his back again.
“We can’t choose the people that we fall in love with.”
He chuckled darkly, his next words laced with just the right hint of
contempt. “You see, Y/N… I don’t believe that.” He declared with the tone of
finality that everyone seem to acknowledge and even when there was no one else
around, you were sure that people would have whispered their agreement. “People
always say that. Not only in love or relationships, they say that they didn’t
have a choice, but in reality everyone has a choice. Always.”
He took a short moment, maybe to recompose himself as his voice had
gotten a decibel louder or maybe just to take a quick breath before he
continued more calmly, “You could’ve turned me down, you could’ve stopped your
feelings for Yoongi or you could’ve fought for him, but you didn’t. You
were the one who gave up on him first. You always had a choice, Y/N. You will always have a choice, don’t
You nodded silently even though he cannot see you. “I know that I can’t
get mad at you, you know why? Because I chose you. I chose to play this game
even though I knew that I would lose.”
“I’m sorry.” You could only repeat the words meekly because you couldn’t
argue with Namjoon. He was always right.
He sighed and turned around again, startling you as he leaned on the
windowsill. His eyes were trained on something in front of him, so you knew
that he was deliberately not looking at you. “Are you apologizing for breaking
my heart or are you apologizing for not accepting my heart at all?”
You took a second to think, but that second was enough for you to see the
way the single teardrop from Namjoon’s eyes catch light and glisten in the
“I’m sorry…” you hesitated, wondering if you should finally reveal
yourself. “…because I made the great, Kim Namjoon cry.” At your words, his eyes
immediately connected with yours. You were stunned, but you continued with your
trembling voice, “…but I’ve thought about this so many times before actually
deciding. No matter how I feel now, I still think it isn’t right for me to keep
seeing you when I can’t give my whole heart to you. I don’t want to use the clichéd
“it’s not you, it’s me” line, but really, it’s me. I need to take a step back
from all of these and just find out if I want to be with anyone.”
He nodded and you didn’t know if he accepted such an explanation or
simply understood you without further questions. “Y/N?” The way he said your
name, without any suffix or formality, made you rethink everything. “Remember
that favor you owed me?”
Immediately, you remembered the favor you owed him for his time as your
tutor and how those days already felt like a million miles away. “What is it?”
“Don’t ask me to be friends with you.” Kim Namjoon was always warm, but
now, he made you feel his chilling words down your spine as he looked at you
with his unwavering gaze. “Let me decide if I want you to be in my life again.”
When you finally nodded in acceptance, you realized that you were also
crying. His words definitely signified the end of something. “I understand.” You bit your lower lip, looking for all the words that
you had wished to say but couldn’t, so you settled with, “…and if I change my
His smile, the one that spread on his lips and parted them to reveal his
teeth and deepen the dimples on his cheek, might’ve been his parting gift to
you. “Then you’ll have to wait in line. I’m highly eligible.”
You returned his smile and even though a wall, a window and a few paces
separated you, this was the closest that you had ever gotten to each other’s
hearts. You meet his eyes from where you stood for one last time. You wipe both of your tears and smile
at each other before you finally ended the call.
waved at him one last time, mouthing, ‘Thank you.’
Summary: It’s the number one rule: you should never fall in love with your best friend or worse, Min Yoongi. With love in the equation, it becomes much difficult to find the right answer. Is it really true that you can’t choose who you fall in love with?
You woke up from your sleep, everything was a
haze in your vision – and you felt unusually weird. You tried to open your
eyes, but you couldn’t, no matter how hard you tried. You then did an attempt
to move your sleeping body, but this turned out to be useless as well. The
weirdness you felt evolved into this scariness you felt building up inside your
guts. What was this? Were you in a sleep paralysis? Your mind was definitely
awake, so you thought your body might be sleeping? However, this felt too
different from a sleep paralysis. You tried to convince yourself that you were
in a sleep paralysis, but everything felt… unreal – which actually shouldn’t be
the case if you were in a sleep paralysis.
Your throat felt dry – and you felt like you
needed to speak up, even if it was just one word. You tried to open up your
mouth, but it felt like your jaws were glued to each other, your mouth not
listening to the signals your brain sent out.
“This must be a dream, it has to be,” you
thought out loud, as you could hear your own voice in your head – making this
echoing sound as if the inside of your brain was totally empty, with your mind
being the only thing wandering around in it. All you could see was a black
void, simply because your eyes were closed tightly, refusing to open up. This
was too frustrating to you – not being able to move – and it felt like you were
about to go nuts at any moment.
But right then, a certain voice stopped you
from going nuts. The voice that has made your heart beat multiple times faster
whenever your ears picked up the sweet, velvet-like sound. It was like this
particular voice made you… complete. As if you were born to hear this voice –
which you technically were, actually – because this voice belonged to no other
than your dear beloved soulmate.
However, as the voice kept repeating its words
– the more the voice repeated the words, the more strangled it sounded, like it
was deeply hurt – and as you became more aware of what these exact words were,
you could feel your heart shredding into pieces. With your body somehow being
paralyzed, your tears weren’t able to come out, but you were sure that you
would have cried a whole deep ocean if your body would not be in this state.
“Y/N. I will always love you. Please, don’t
the thing about giving your heart to someone
is that when they take it
what they do with it will forever change you
they’ll be fine
they won’t be the ones bleeding from the shattered pieces on the ground
they won’t be the ones struggling to breathe with broken glass stuck in their chest
it’s all you
you’re the one left feeling empty
who could expect you to feel whole when your heart is missing?
you’’re the one left aching
it’s a pain that doesn’t just go away with time
a pain that lingers
then flares up when you least expect it
like when you finally think you’re ready to trust again
it starts to hurt in a way that’s all too familiar
come to think of it, it never really stops hurting
how unfair is that?
they fucked up
and you’re the one suffering.
instinctedbadge said: Hey.. Could you write one about being cheated on by someone you put all your trust and faith into and never being able to trust them or anyone that way again?
Anonymous said: Hi 👋🏼 can you write about this girlfriend that’s cheating on her boyfriend but secretly, but the boyfriend finds out and doesn’t want to break up because he doesn’t want to be alone
Anonymous said: Could you write something about being cheated on by your best friend and your first boyfriend? (cc, 2017)
Summary: You always want what you can’t have: You want Seokjin, Yoongi wants Yoora and the only seemingly happy couple is the wanted themselves. Until you and Yoongi get drunk one night and fall into a relationship that neither of you wanted or planned. The only problem is, could either of you move on from your first loves to fall again?
From this anon’s request!!
Can I request a YOONGI
ANGST where you are in love with Jin but Jin has a girlfriend and YOONGI is in
love with Jin’s girlfriend and you grieve together with YOONGI (who’s your best
friend) but accidentally got drunk together and slept with him.”
THERE WILL BE ONE MORE PART TO THIS SCENARIO
WARNINGS: Sexual situations, blood, angst, idiocy, derpiness, general super fluff for whatever reason, also heartbreak. The usual. You know me.
They always said that when your heart was broken it would
mend itself by rebounding into new love–feeling whole through a person that
was so vastly different than the one you lost or couldn’t have. But, it could
be any person really; it honestly did not matter if they were someone different
than the last. As long as the rebound was next to you and equally as drunk,
then the name and appearance of the person would not stop you from shoving your
tongue down their throat. Nor would it remove their hands finding solace in
tracing the line of your panties through your skinny jeans.
Granted, you didn’t know who “they” referred to or
if “they” even actually said it–if you were sober you would have
realized that rebounding was a stupid decision felt by those either inexperienced
in love or too intoxicated to care if their best friend was removing their
shirt. Well, to be fair to yourself, the alcohol was fooling you into believing
that Yoongi was the person that you loved for 90% of you conscious life instead
of someone who shared your misery. It was only when you sat with your back
pressed up against brick, your ass on top of an old wooden work bench in the
supply closet of a bar, and your fingers embedded in Yoongi’s hair (how was
that shit so soft?), that you were reminded of the stupid word.
The term had always sounded harsh and negative; it always
meant something dangerous–broken hearts and a year’s worth of tears. Well,
with several rounds of shots and that cocktail the bartender had railed for you
that night fogging your mind, the idea of a rebound sounded amazing. You’d
tried everything to lose your feelings for Kim Seokjin, but maybe, maybe this
man who tasted like whiskey and soju and smelled like bleach from the nearby
shelf would drag those feelings out from your heart and purify the empty cavity
If you were sober, you would have doubted it, but drunk you
was a gullible sap–even to your own inner ramblings.
“We can’t.” You murmured in a second of
sobriety–one that was quickly drowned out by the poison of alcohol on Yoongi’s
tongue. Despite the statement, you did not pause in your ministrations nor did
you try to pull away from the male.
Yoongi, himself, was too far gone for proper speech so he
only grunted and, when his hands roamed your sides in just the right, tender
way–you fooled yourself into believing that the man you were letting unzip
your jeans was, in fact, Seokjin.
Nothing feels as perfect as lying in the arms of the one you love. The safety you feel is all-encompassing, nothing can hurt you. Breathing in their smell is like a breath of fresh air that saturates your lungs. You live for that air, it keeps you going, keeps you fighting.
Nothing feels as horrible as losing the person you love. Emptiness invades your heart, invades your soul, consuming every ounce of joy you thought you might have.
The day you lost Dean was the day the air was ripped from your lungs. Sam tried to pull you away from what was left of Dean’s body. He was unrecognizable. The hell hounds tore him to shreds as he screamed out in pain. That scream invades your thoughts now. It invades your dreams and pierces you to your core. You can’t do anything without hearing it, can’t go anywhere without crumbling to the ground, clutching your ears.
When Dean came back you could finally breathe again. He was here, he was alive, and this was real. You thought that with Dean back everything would go back to the way it was, but that wasn’t the case. His screams still stuck with you, never leaving your thoughts. You tried everything to get the screams to stop. You would lock yourself in the bathroom and stand under the shower head, listening to the the rushing sound of the water, letting it fall over your face for what felt like days. But nothing truly worked. Everything was a temporary fix. Dean eventually caught on that you weren’t yourself, but he didn’t want to push you.
I would give the world to know
if I ever crossed your mind,
if thoughts of me kept you up at night,
if you sometimes type out a text to me but then decided not to send it,
if you drive by places we used to go and you feel your heart empty,
if little things throughout your day
remind you of me,
I would give the world to know
if you still have a little love left for me.
“But they forgot Allah, so they forgot themselves.”
There is so much to be said about this one sentence, subhanallah. When you neglect Allah, when you choose other things to be as more important for you than Allah, then Allah makes you forget who you are. He makes you forget your identity.
And when this happens, your heart becomes hard. It feels empty. So you try to fill that emptiness with worldly things. You try to fill that hole in your heart not realising that the only thing that can bring you happiness is Allah.
Wallahi happiness can only be found with worshipping Allah. It can only be found in pleasing Him. When you make Him your priority, He will fill your heart with the sweetness of Iman.
And there is nothing more beautiful than the feeling of being close to Allah.
May Allah protect us from making this dunya our only concern.
without you, there is no more sun. there is no more light. there are no more stars. the moon doesnt come out anymore. without you, i am lost. i am broken, i am in pain, struggling to continue. without you, my whole world feels like its slowly starting to crumble all around me as im standing there watching everything fall in front of me. without you, my heart feels weak. its empty.. craving your love. without you, i feel like i dont even know my name.. dont know right from wrong, dont know up from down, dont know wrong from right. without you, i dont want to live. i dont want to continue. i dont want to wake up. i dont want to wake up everyday knowing youre not here. moping around feeling sorry for myself, waiting for you to come back, show up, something. i dont want to be here without you. without you,my life doesnt have purpose. my life doesnt have meaning. my life is dull. full of grey clouds and rainy days. without you, my life isnt my life anymore. im not living anymore, im only existing. you were my life. you are my life. without you, i am not me. i will never be me again. i will never know who i am ever again. and thats whats scary.. without you, i am nothing. i am worthless. i am lifeless. walking around like a dead corpse. i am just another ant on the ground, existing. not being noticed.. too small for anyone to look or care about. without you, life sucks. and i dont want my life to suck anymore.
at the ceiling in the dark Same old empty feeling in your
heart Love comes slow and it goes so fast Well you see her when
you fall asleep But never to touch and never to keep ‘Cause you
loved her too much and you dive too deep
you only need the light when it’s burning low Only miss the sun
when it starts to snow Only know you love her when you let her
go Only know you’ve been high when you’re feeling low Only hate
the road when you’re missing home Only know you love her when you
let her go And you let her go
nails tapped on the beat-up wooden table as you waited
apprehensively. You both knew this wasn’t going to end well; it never
did when Dr. Hess made an appearance. Mick had been with her in the
office at the British Men of Letter’s bunker for over an hour now and
you were getting worried. Feeling too anxious to wait around, you
drove to the closest dive bar.
your phone for the fifth time, your heart raced frantically as you
saw nothing; no messages, no calls, nothing. You knew damn well what
those Brits were capable of, especially Arthur Ketch. Your grip on
your phone tightened dangerously as you thought of him, your skin
crawling. When you had first met them with the Winchesters, you’d
definitely been interested in the charismatic Brit but, after getting
to know him better, you uncovered just how vile he was. Mick, on the
other hand, hadn’t even turned your head at first. Sure, he was good
looking but he wasn’t Arthur Ketch good looking. However, after
working more closely with Mick, you’d realised he was actually a
sweet, funny, incredibly insecure man and you fell hard.
could you write a jughead imagine where reader has daddy issues and she’s scared of falling in love and jughead wants to proof her otherwise and that he’s not gonna break her heart
I like this one, but I’m not sure what you will think of it. Send some feedback!
You were laying in your bed, staring up at your ceiling and getting lost in your thoughts. It had been a few days since you had a small fight, more like a small argument, with Jughead Jones. He was a confusing person, with confusing feelings which only added to your own. The two of you had been going out for a while, as close friends, but around three days ago, Jughead needed to know how you felt. He admitted that he loved you and begged you to tell him how you felt about him. The problem was, you were scared to feel.
“Y/N, please, tell me,” he had stepped closer, so you were sharing the same air. You stepped back, but he grabbed your hand gently. You felt your heart break a little at the action, it had been done before, by countless of other guys.
“I can’t Jug,” you murmured, still not meeting his eyes.
“Y/N, I love you,” you shook your head at his words, feeling tears falling down your cheeks.
“No you don’t, no one else has what makes you any different?” You looked up at him then and saw the hurt in his normally bright eyes. You stepped towards him and carefully captured him in a hug.
“I’m sorry you’ve been hurt so much, Y/N, but you need to believe me,” his voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. You were outside Pop’s diner, late at night, so luckily no one was around to hear your exchange.
“I, I’m too scared Jug,” you whispered, finally letting your fragile heart show. He pressed his cheek against the top of your head, trying to comfort you in any way he could.
“I’ll prove it to you,” he whispered, “that I love you.”
You hadn’t heard from him since and it left you feeling empty. You didn’t dare expose your scarred heart more than you did that night. You hadn’t been that open with someone in a long time. The self-isolation came with so many coming in into your life but leaving you soon after. It wasn’t that you didn’t love Jughead, in a way you did, but you weren’t ready to fully accept your feelings. Part of you believed that Jughead was being honest, that he did indeed love you; but the other part of you, the cold half of your heart, felt that he would grow tired of you like all the rest had. The war between these two pieces of yourself was raging as you continued to stare up at your ceiling, trying to push your hope of love deep down.
You’d been let down too many times now, it wasn’t fair. You felt tears stinging your eyes, unable to hold them back, you just let them fall. The fear of being hurt again was so overpowering, it overwhelmed you. You were about to wipe away the tears when your phone buzzed loudly. You shifted in your bed, grabbing your phone. Your heart leapt when you saw the message was from Jughead. You opened the message and your breath caught in your throat.
Jughead : Can you come to the Twilight?
Your brain was screaming at you to say no, just ignore the text in general. If you went, you would be opening yourself to heart break again. Then again, if you didn’t try, you weren’t giving Jughead a fair enough chance to prove himself to you. You jumped up from your bed and slipped on a comfy shirt and black jeans. You grabbed your sneakers and your phone and darted out of your house as quietly as you could. You walked down the dark streets as quickly as you could. Nerves were buzzing around your brain as you walked, but all your heart could do is think of Jughead. His warm hugs, his caring smile, and his ability to love someone as broken as yourself. You loved him, you realized, causing you to almost trip over your shoes. You caught yourself and kept walking, because now you had to tell him.
You rushed into the empty drive-in theater, looking around for Jughead. You jumped when you heard a crunch behind you. You spun around a saw Jughead, looking at you with dopey eyes.
“You came,” he said, stepping towards you and instead of shying away from him, you met him in the middle.
“Of course I did,” you murmured, meeting his gaze. You saw how his jaw clenched, he only did this when he was nervous or in deep thought, and you smiled softly.
“I spent the last three days trying, struggling, to figure out the perfect way to earn your trust,” he said, stepping towards you again. “I figured that there was only one good way to let you understand how I feel,” he took a deep breath, “and that’s to tell you everything.” He stepped even closer to you, grabbing both of your hands in his. He rubbed his thumbs across your cold fingers nervously before looking into your eyes once more.
“My name is Forsythe Pendleton Jones III, I attend Riverdale High School with a minimal amount of friends because I hate people in general. I have a little sister name Jellybean, who I haven’t seen in ages because my father is a South Side Serpent. I left home and I live in there,” he let go of you hand to gesture to the film hut, “and that explains why I always smell so bad.”
You smiled and let out a small giggle, which caused Jughead to smile a little too. “I don’t tell anyone anything about me because I’m scared. Scared that once they see the real me they’ll run to the hills. I’m telling you all of this because I trust you, Y/N,” he paused and shook his head, “no, I love you, so much.” Your heart melted at his words and tears gathered in your eyes.
“I get why you’re scared, Y/N, you’ve been let down by your father, a feeling I totally understand,” he looked down at your joined hands again, “I know it all too well.” You let go of his hand, raising it to his face, bringing it up to look at you. You saw the redness in his eyes and felt your own eyes burn with tears. It stayed silent for a moment, you just stared at each other, conveying unsaid words through your eyes. You carefully moved towards him, resting your body against his. His arms immediately wrapped around you, hugging you tightly.
“I hope I proved that you’re not alone,” he whispered, “and I hope you’ll allow us to be alone together.” You nodded against his chest and his arms tightened around, as if he were trying to form a protective shell around you.
“Yes,” you whispered, pulling your head back enough to look at his face, “I love you Jughead.” He gave you a true, but soft smile. You leaned up on your tippy toes and pressed a kiss to his lips, showing that you believed his good intentions. You pulled away, but Jughead wasn’t done. His hands lifted to your face, cupping your cheeks as he kissed you again. Your lips moved in-sync with his, and with it you could feel his heartbeat against your hand that was on his chest. He pulled away breathless, and you leaned your forehead against his.
“I’m never letting you go,” he whispered and you smiled. “Not ever, not five years from now,” he whispered and you brushed your lips against his again. He pecked your lips softly, proving himself once more.
“We’ll be scared together,” you whispered and Jughead nodded, pulling you into another heartfelt kiss.
Warnings: Mild panic attack; mentions of the car accident; major fluff
Side note - there’s been a real Shakespeare theme with these lately and I’m blaming it on the fact that I’m a total Shakespeare nerd #sorrynotsorry
Thank you so much to everyone who has like, reblogged, or responded to my story. Without y’all, I don’t have too much motivation to write. My inbox is empty right now so feel free to drop in as many requests as your heart desires! I need substance to write, and I must appease my peoples :)
He murmured, “Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight, for I never saw true beauty till this night,” quoting the very play we were watching. The line caused you to blush, knowing what it mean. You couldn’t tell if he meant to say it out loud or think it, but he didn’t seem to notice, and this was just one more thing you found to love about Jughead Jones.
It had been a week since you had shared your first kiss with Jughead. Since then, you two were practically inseparable. Your dad let Jughead stay in the guest bedroom most nights because he suspected something about his home situation. You had seen Archie around school and at lunch, but he made no efforts to talk to you. In the afternoons, you spent time with either Betty and Veronica talking about the hardships and trials of love, or at Pop’s with Jug. Today happened to be a day with B and V before some jock’s party started - you refused to go, but even so the two girls convinced you to help them get ready.
Warnings: dad!crowley (if that’s a warning), angst bc I
can’t help myself
A/N: This was written for @becaamm’s 1k followers song
challenge. I chose Let Her Go by Passenger, and she gave me Crowley as my
character. Congrats on your new follower milestone, you deserve it! Forgive me
if this is terrible, it’s my first time writing for the King. Lyrics for the
song are italicized
“Come on Princess, just take a few more
steps towards daddy,” I said with outstretched arms. Never did I, the King of
Hell, think I would find myself wrapped around the finger of a little munchkin
I had saved from my own demons. Bastards wanted to kill the child after possessing
her parents and forcing them to kill themselves, they wanted to do away with
the small one too. Good thing I stepped in. And now, I was wrapped around her
finger. I would do anything to protect my little Princess.
even allowed her to sit on my lap and play on my drums, and no one touches
those drums but me.
Fitz thinks of all the evenings he longed for her, ashamed of both his lust and his love. He can still feel the ache he buried so deeply within himself it became part of his genetic makeup. He remembers lying on his bed in a cramped bunk, the quiet whir of the plane bleaching to white noise, thinking: I love you and I want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me. He remembers the traitorous prayer, washing over him each night as he faded into sleep, when he was at his most vulnerable and could no longer fight it: But please, please love me back.
He thinks of this and wonders how he could have been so naïve. He’d had so little experience of the world; he didn’t know it was possible to share a bed with someone you loved with your whole heart and still feel empty and alone. He didn’t know it was possible to receive everything you’d ever wished for, only to watch yourself slowly tear it all to shreds.
Maybe things would be different if they weren’t in some mysterious space prison. Maybe on Earth there could be therapy and indefinite leave to a cottage in Perthshire. He imagines it, sometimes, when he feels he deserves the extra punishment. Jemma would smile—like she used to, not this small brittle expression she gives him now, as if he’ll shatter at any moment.
Here they’ve all been separated. He hears murmurings from the guards occasionally, a whispered mention of “Coulson” or a sneering, contemptuous “Little Ms. Quake.” A part of him can’t wait until they’re free and Daisy makes their captors pay, but mostly he keeps his head down and hands Jemma the tools she needs.
As far as he can tell, the menial labor they do only serves to keep this ship/station/rock thing in space. Still, he can’t help the tremors that run through him at the idea that his work, however inconsequential, could be supporting something horrible and he has no idea. He had refused, at first, which landed him in solitary confinement with no food or water until Jemma had been allowed in his cell to beg.
“We’re just keeping ourselves alive,” she’d said. “I can’t find any evidence that what we’re doing in the lab is hurting anyone.”
At his silence she had grabbed his hand. “I promise, and if I’m wrong it’ll be my burden to bear.”
And when he still didn’t respond, she had forced him to look at her and she had cried. “You can’t do this to me,” she said. “You can’t kill yourself like this.”
So now his days follow a steady, unvarying rhythm he’s never before experienced: a shrill, station-wide alarm in the morning, a quick shower, toast and butter with Jemma and a ridiculous number of guards, mindless work in the lab, a thirty-minute lunch break, rotations to fix a keyboard or the wiring in a door panel, dinner with Jemma and a second group of guards, and then lights out in their room.
He has the side of the bed near the wall, and every night he curls as far away from her as he can manage. During the day, they work together seamlessly. Sometimes they even joke, and sometimes he looks at her and for half a second believes they’re back home in their lab, happy and in love, before everything fell apart.
But at night their bodies are too close and he’s never felt more alone. She cries when she thinks he’s asleep, silently, her body barely moving.
He wants to extend a hand and touch her. He wants to hold her and tell her everything will be okay. But he would be lying, and at any rate, he’s lost the right. So he listens to her cry and bites down on his knuckles, hard, to keep himself from reaching for her. Eventually, her shaking subsides into the tortured breathing of her nightmares, and he lets sleep force him under as well.
Every morning he wakes before her to find himself tangled up in her limbs, as if he’s drowning and she’s his life raft, and he hates himself for it.