Summary: Derry was supposed to be an escape from your mother’s bad decisions and her hatred towards you for being ‘special’. But upon your arrival there you discover the eerily quiet town has a sinister reputation and a history that repeats itself.
“Are you sure they’ll like me?” You ask Beverly, pressing the phone closer to your ear. An old, fading, torn at the edges polaroid picture was held in your hand, the photo she had given you as a final present before you left Portland for good. Fuck your mom and her “unstable” lifestyle. She probably didn’t want you to see the tequila hidden under the bed.
“They will, I promise.” Her distorted voice comes through the ancient home phone, crackling with electricity.
“But you said-”
“They won’t know your last name,” Beverly assures. “And if they find out, they probably forgot anyway.”
Not for a prompt this time, but just a spontaneous ficlet because I felt this was a meeting that needed to happen.
Yondu isn’t sure what he expects to happen next after freezing to death and asphyxiating in space – well, there’s not supposed to be a next, that’s kind of the point, but standing in a field of grass on some random planet is really, really not it.
The grass is up to his knees and it’s a shade of bluish green. There are some rolling hills in the distance, a blue sky above with a hint of gold and pink. It’s nearing this planet’s sunset, either that or just past dawn, enough to give the light a long, golden quality.
None of this really narrows it down. A lot of planets have blue skies and plants in this general color range. And he doesn’t like that he has no idea how he got here. He reaches under his coat and touches his arrow to make sure it’s where it’s supposed to be, even though he can also feel it through his implant.
… but that’s not quite right, is it? The arrow was broken –
“Hello,” a quiet voice says from behind him.
He whirls, coat flaring around him, the arrow automatically heating up for action.
The woman is standing a few yards behind him in the grass. She’s got a lot of light-colored hair and she’s wearing a white and blue dress that flutters in the wind. He’s not entirely sure of her species – could be Terran, could be Xandarian, could be from any one of a few dozen planets got settled by people with that general look. Peter’s look.
“Yondu Udonta, right?” she says with a tentative smile, looking him in the eyes. And there’s something about her eyes, that’s what does it. He knows those eyes.
“Yeah,” he says, and he’s not quite ready to power down the arrow because he’s been around the galaxy too many times, in too many ways, to enjoy mysterious fields he doesn’t remember getting to, with too-friendly women standing in them. But still – her face –
The woman walks forward through the grass. She doesn’t seem afraid, and she ought to be afraid of him, tiny and soft like she is, and completely unarmed by the look of it. Unarmed people who aren’t scared of people carrying weapons are the worst. There’s usually a reason.
“I wanted to be the first to say hi to you. I hope you don’t mind, um, all of this.” She holds out a hand to indicate the field around them, the blue sky with its soft hints of other colors. “I know it won’t look familiar to you, but I wasn’t sure what you’d think was familiar and comfortable, figured I’d just get it wrong if I tried, and … I also thought maybe you’d want to see it. This is Missouri, Mr. Udonta.”
And with that, he can’t really deny any more what he knows to be true, and he lets the connection to the arrow die. He can’t threaten this woman, at least no more than he threatens her just by standing here, twice her size with the ability to deal death to her in a dozen different ways. “An’ you’re Meredith Quill,” he says softly.
Her smile is wide and bright and heartbreakingly like Peter’s. But of course it would be. Kid didn’t get anything from Ego, nothing Yondu’s ever been able to see. “Yes. I wanted very much to meet you.”
There’s nothing he can say to that. Nothing he can say to her at all, really. What could Peter’s mother ever have to say to him? If she knows who he is, then surely she knows what he’s done – what he did to Peter, and to all of those children who were Peter’s half-siblings.
The bitterness of this particular fate makes a sardonic smile tug at the corners of his mouth. He hasn’t lived a good life, and he knows it, but he still wasn’t prepared to have it paid back to him this fittingly: to stand in front of this woman he wronged (one of the many, many mothers he wronged), the woman whose son he stole away from her family to sell to a monster and then, to compound his crime, raised to a life she could not possibly have wanted for him. And there’s nothing he can say to her that could change anything, no words he could offer in his own defense, not when he comes to her reeking of death, with hands metaphorically drenched in blood.
There is nothing he deserves more than whatever punishment she wishes to mete out to him, and he’s prepared to receive it.
The one thing he’s not prepared for is what she actually does when she reaches him. For a moment she stands in front of him, looking up at him with an expression that he can’t understand at all, eyes wide and soft (Peter’s eyes). And then she reaches out and touches him hesitantly on the shoulder – he tries not to flinch – and lays her other hand lightly on his chest, and then –
And then she hugs him, stretching on tiptoe and leaning into him and wrapping her arms around him and hugging him, coat and weapons and all.
“Thank you,” she whispers into his shoulder. “Thank you for taking care of my baby for me. Thank you for saving him. Thank you.”
Plot: Sean goes off in search of lilacs for a special project made for a special someone.
Extra: listen to Make Believe by Astronaut Husband ♡
Sean roamed the lavender grazed fields, the sky giving off a hazy orange hue as the sun began to set behind the clouds. He had parked his car on the edge of the hill and had left his phone on the passenger seat, unknowingly losing complete track of time. The past few hours had been spent going down each row of purple-infused lilac shrubs. He’d tune his hearing and lean in close - so close that he’d hear the buzzing of the bees and the rush of the wind against the leaves. He’d eye the crisp petals, his gaze tracing the white outline of each and every freshly bloomed lilac.
Some were limp, some were dry. Others were dull and it seemed as if they had never truly bloomed at all. It was only the best, the bold, the unique that he’d pluck and quickly set into his other palm. Then he’d start the cycle over again and lean in close, his mind wandering as his eyes sought for any sign of a ripe lilac.
By the time he had become satisfied with the number of delicate florets he held in his fist, the sky had begun to show signs of early evening. It was painted with streaks of deep oranges and reds, with a slight hint of a hazy blue peaking through the canvas of the sky.
“I’ve been here that long?” he mumbled quietly to the world. Only the sounds of nature whispered back, and he wandered back to his car, admiring the sheer beauty around him as he went. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he jammed the keys into the ignition and the engine began to hum in response. Gently setting the blossoms in the seat next to him, he pulled onto the road and left the setting sun behind him in the rearview mirror.
It took him ten minutes to get back to the building he had come from. He knew how to get there by heart. Every turn he took, every sign he saw, and every light he passed was embedded into his brain. A deep hatred pained his heart every time he’d glance at them - because they were familiar. But not every place that’s familiar is a good one.
He pulled into the parking lot and settled in a spot that was reserved just for him. It faced an off-white wall that sickened the pit of his stomach. Whenever he craned his neck to look at the top floor, his stomach would lurch. His fingertips would numb and his heart would pound against his ribcage. Sean’s pulse quickened as his eyes met the accustomed setting.
Before he knew it, hot tears were leaving silver paths down his cheeks. His bottom lip quivered and everywhere he looked would leave a pain in his chest so sharp that it was similar to a glass shard cutting through him. He reached for the copper wire in the backseat that he had twined himself earlier in the day. The pressure in his chest began to build and he wiped his sleeve across his face, setting the small custom-made crown in his lap.
His vision blurred. Panic rose in his throat. Forcing his eyes shut, he leaned his head against the steering wheel before a small sob escaped his hoarse throat.
For her, a thought crossed his mind, take a deep breath and finish this for her.
It caused him to sob louder, sharper.
Sean stayed there for a few minutes, gaining back his composure. He wiped his palms against his eyes, focusing on his breathing.
It felt like an eternity to him. Every tick of his racing pulse was a second gone by. But it was worth it. He had to be calm if he planned on going back in there.
Slowly raising his head, he took another glance at his surroundings and exhaled sharply. His stare landed on the copper wire. Sean grasped it gently, the cool metal drawing against his skin. He stared at it for a few more seconds, allowing a split second of admiration of the beauty of it to fill the void in his mind before he went to work.
For her, his thoughts repeated. For her. For her. For her.
Pinching a lilac, he’d wrap it around the crown and tie it in a perfected knot. They ranged in different sizes and shades, different pigments and patterns. It was his first attempt at this and he learned as he went, not focusing on who he was making the crown for but rather why.
To make her happy, he told himself. To see her smile again. Oh, God, it’s been such a long time since she has smiled.
Eventually, the flowers morphed and spun into a breathtaking display of a beautiful lilac flower crown. His chest ached, but the warmth of happiness flowed within him. He didn’t allow himself to focus on it any longer. If he did, he’d spiral back into the pit of negativity, and he wasn’t about that. He wouldn’t be about that. It was hard, but you become the person you are through the difficult times, don’t you?
Sean stepped into the elevator. His heart skipped a beat as his thumb pressed the number 9, the final floor of the hospital. The peaceful elevator music encircled him and he let himself doze off as his fingers traced over the crown.
He stepped off the elevator.
He let his feet take him where they wanted. He didn’t even bother. The walls were beautiful the first few weeks at the hospital, bursting with color. But now they were washed out and nothing about them made him feel comfortable. He didn’t look up at them, or at the paintings that watched him as he went, or the patients that strolled down the halls in search of entertainment. Eventually, he stood in front of the door. In his right hand, he held the dainty headpiece. In the other, his hand was settled on the knob.
Before he could second-guess himself, he allowed himself in, quietly shutting the door behind him.
“Sean?” Y/N asked quietly, using the armchairs to help herself up. She rushed over quickly, caressing the side of his face to get a better look at his eyes that were red and tearing. He mustered a smile at her concern. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he whispered almost inaudibly, pulling her into a hug. He embraced her before she pulled away, brows knitted in concern. Sean gave his wife another reassuring nod before turning the corner to the hospital bed.
The sudden presence in the room caused the little girl to glance up. Her big, blue eyes, identical to Sean’s, watched him as he came up and sat next to her.
“Dad!” Throwing her arms open, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face into the crook of his neck. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her in return, letting her pull away a few seconds later.
“Hey, Princess,” his smile reached his eyes for the first time in weeks. The pure happiness radiating off of her was contagious. He couldn’t help but grin at her joy. She pulled the covers over her frail, shivering body again. “I’ve got something for you,”
“Do you really?” she questioned curiously, almost immediately noting his hand that was held behind his back. Sean nodded.
“Close your eyes,” he said. A small grin curled her lips as her eyes fluttered shut. Taking the crown out from behind him, he glanced at it one last time before positioning it on the top of her head perfectly. She giggled and turned to her right, slowly peeking at her appearance in the mirror that was next to her.
Her eyes shot open and her jaw dropped, and she jolted upward from her position in the bed.
“It’s so pretty,” she marveled, reaching her hands up to touch it, as if it weren’t real. “Did you make this?”
Sean was met with a few seconds of silence before his daughter engulfed him in a hug again. It took him by surprise, but he squeezed her tightly and laughed at her excitement.
“It’s even prettier than my hair, dad,” she whispered, only loud enough for the both of them to hear. “I love it so much,”
She pulled away, and her crystal blue orbs had filled with tears. A sharp pain shot through his chest again, and his throat swelled up. He inhaled sharply and bit down on his tongue, using the pain to distract himself from the tears that wanted to fall. He took a deep breath and nodded.
“Don’t thank me. A beautiful crown for a beautiful princess,”
She smiled. A smile that spread from ear to ear. The same smile that she used to do, the one where her nose wrinkled. A smile that creased the corner of her eyes.
Looking at her reflection again, she smiled even bigger. He noticed.
And he watched as for the first time in months, she wasn’t focusing on the hospital, the nurses, the bloodwork, the IVs, the tests, the tubes, her bald scalp, her dry skin, and the medicine - no, she wasn’t focusing on that at all.
You sat at the table watching her. Your best friend Mari who dragged you out here tonight. Of course you had to come. It’s her birthday. The only problem was you weren’t exactly a “bar” kind of girl and she was exactly a “bar” kind of girl, so she was fully in her element, getting hit on by a variety of good looking guys and you sat alone at your table holding your second drink, bored and unapproachable.
You were beginning to feel a little bitter. And bored. Guys never came up to you. Maybe it was your resting bitch face. Maybe it was the high necked top you wore to hide your boobs that you were self conscious about. Maybe it was how you glared at every approaching guy until they gave up and went somewhere else.
Yeah you glared at them, because fuck them. They could just go flirt with Mari. They were probably boring anyway. And it’s mari’s birthday.
It’s cold and Bran is in deep with a vision, so what harm will cuddling do? (Slightly younger reader, younger in regards to Bran’s age.)
It was freezing cold, impossible to get any warmth. You had escaped the horde of White Walkers thanks to Bran’s Uncle Benjen; but that didn’t help your nerves. You kept looking through the trees while Bran gripped the weirwood tree. You glanced over at him, his eyes still pure white.
“C’mon Bran,” you whispered, “come back.” You shivered, looking into the forest for any sign of the dead. Their blue eyes were burned into your mind, haunting your dreams with no mercy. Trying to distract yourself from your nightmares, you looked up into the sky. The hints of blue had started to fade into a dark, hazy grey. You contemplated making a fire, but you feared it’d be an obvious sign; calling out to the dead. Instead, you found a different source of warmth.
You scooted close to Bran, whose back was pressed to the cold ground. You rest your body next to his, your shoulder landing against the ground. You shifted your head, gently resting it against his chest. His body warmth spread to you in an instant, making you slightly more comfortable in the restless forest surrounding you.
Bran remained still, lost in whatever vision, for a while. You could only imagine what secrets had been revealed to him and what new knowledge he had acquired. Looking up at his face, it was hard to tell that he had witnessed since he had been through so much. You were both young, almost too young to be out on your own. Especially in the far North; beyond the Wall. During your search for the Three-Eyed Raven, you had grown close to the Stark boy.
Grew to love him, in a way. Nights like this, you’d stay close to him, but never too close. During the day you’d distance yourself. It seemed both you and Meera had the same affections for him; but Bran was too busy to notice. You weren’t going to push your luck with him either. You weren’t highborn, you were only friends with Jojen and Meera. Sadly, both of the Reed siblings hadn’t made it this far. You curled closer to Bran at the disheartening memory of your friends.
“N-no,” Bran whimpered, bringing your attention back to his soft face. You leaned up on your knees, your hands going to his cheeks. Your palms rested on either side of his face, ready to wake him from the vision scaring him.
“Bran, Bran!” You shook him lightly, waiting to see the dark brown and black of his eyes. Finally his eyes rolled forward and you met his gaze. His hand went to your face quickly, his breathing ragged with fear. His wide eyes looked into yours, the panic slowly fading from his pupils. “What happened,” you asked quietly, still holding his face.
“My family is far more complex than I once thought,” he said once his breathing had calmed. You got off your knees, sitting beside Bran and removing your hands from his face. He looked over at you when you pulled away, his lips turned downwards slightly.
“If you want to talk about it you can,” you offered. Bran nodded, then shrugged. You reached over and brushed his hair away from his face gently. His eyes closed at your touch, eyelashes fanning out across his cheeks. “If you’re not going to talk you should rest before we go back,” you whispered. Bran hummed softly in agreement and you pulled your hand away. You turned on your side, your back facing Bran’s side. Your were suddenly freezing again, now being farther from Bran’s warmth. You were closing your eyes, trying to sleep, when Bran spoke.
“You can come closer, if you want, again.” You smiled to yourself, turning on your other side. As you scooted closer, you met Bran’s light brown eyes. You leaned your head up, resting it against his chest. You looked down at your feet and realized how tall Bran was. Since he never stood, you often forgot about his height.
“I’m not going to miss these nights in the North,” Bran said dryly, but you chuckled a little. You moved your head, looking up at his face. There was a soft smile playing on his lips as he met your eyes. You noticed a pink blush rising to his cheeks, causing your smile to widened. You had forgotten how good it felt to smile. But as you held Bran’s gaze, the smile faded. Was it fair to your dead, to Bran’s dead, to be happy in this moment?
“We’re almost home, Y/N,” Bran whispered, “you’re allowed to be the slightest bit delighted.” You opened your mouth, ready to ask how he knew; but no words left your mouth. Instead of talking, you buried your face closer to his chest. His heat spreading to your body, warming it up. But you still were cold, inside and out. You shivered slightly against Bran’s body.
“It’s hard to be joyus when everything is so cold.” Bran seemed to understand what exactly you meant : the weather reflected the icy shell of your heart. Bran shifted, wrapping his arms around you in an attempt to comfort you. You had both been through so much, it wasn’t fair.
“I know,” he whispered, “but things will change once we return. They will be different for the better.We’ll fight the dead and keep the world to the living. I promise.” You slowly turned your head to meet his eyes once more. Bran held your gaze, trying to convey how serious he was.
“You promise?” Bran nodded and your lips turned upwards slightly in a soft smile. You leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” you whispered. You laid back down, cuddling closer to Bran’s side. You finally felt calm enough to snooze for a while. Your nerves about the monsters in the woods had ebbed slightly in the soft warmth of Bran’s spirit.
You’d actually miss the nights in the North, but maybe you’d find a new home in the snowy hills of Winterfell. A home next to Bran, helping him and loving him; because next to him, the world seemed a little less frigid.
Included in this is also a prompt from a while ago from @shalomksenia ‘I don’t care what they think and you shouldn’t either’
It’s sort of semi-AU. Post revival, the world didn’t end but it was a little ropey for a while. I will completely gloss over how they saved the world, how Mulder was cured, what happened on that damn bridge or how they found William. Just take it as read that it all happened and we have time-jumped a couple of years to this pointless piece of nonsense. @baronessblixen here’s that fluff I promised you :D
Up, up and away.
When Mulder told me he had something special planned for my birthday, I have to admit that, even given that my partner’s taste in entertainment can be described as quirky when I am feeling generous - and downright unfathomable when I’m not, the sight that greeted me when it became clear we had reached our destination and his ‘surprise’ hove into view was the last thing I had imagined over the past week or so when I had grilled him on a daily basis as to what he had planned.
The only information he would divulge through those glorious lips of his was that I would need to wrap up warm and wear sensible footwear, which frankly, knowing Mulder the way I do could have literally meant anything.
“Fun fact about apple picking,” York said, zipping up his hoodie. “I used to get hay fever wicked bad when I was a kid and so I’d get all itchy and uncomfortable, but I didn’t know it was an allergy because my dad told me it was all part of the experience.”
“It’s definitely an experience,” Carolina agreed as they entered the orchard.
“I also swelled up the first time I ate pineapple, and he just told me that now there’s more of me to love. I actually have a shocking amount of stories where my dad just completely failed to recognize I was having a medical emergency.”
“That should be more worrying than you think it is, York.”
Summary: Desperate to find financial security for her family, Katniss Everdeen goes to whatever lengths it takes to bring home a paycheck. Peeta Mellark just wants someone to make him feel normal again.
Kris Wu celebrated his 26th birthday with the release of his new song. This youth, contradicting and full of endless possibilities, had also begun to understand the real meaning of life and come to an age of accepting regret, therefore having to work even more firmly to treasure time. He said that, his time has just begun.
It was just slightly over half past seven when I had stepped into Shanghai Gymnasium and realised that I was already late. The lights were switched off, and I found myself surrounded by a sea of hundreds, thousands of phone lights. “Happy birthday to you” a medley of high and low voices rang throughout the venue like waves, each subsequent time resounding with increased excitement. This was Kris Wu’s 26th birthday party, and although he had yet to appear on stage, the air was bursting with excitement, as if it was a balloon that would rupture at any moment a scream were to pierce the air. When he finally emerged rising from the center of the stage in a silver jacket, without a word, screams erupted with the force of lava spewing out of a volcano.
I managed to catch several little things about him when I saw him a couple of days ago in the photography studio: The bluetooth speakers which accompanied him throughout (“Use music to change the working environment”), the grey hair with hints of pale purple and sky blue, and his black leather flip phone case, that had several bank cards which looked like something a conservative middle-aged person would opt for. It’s rumoured that fans have tried gifting him [phone cases] in a “more fashionable style”, but he turned them down. Having used the previous [similar styled phone case] till it was worn out, [Kris said it was] “because it was practical”, and thus went to get several of the exact same design, just in case.
From time to time he would gently furrow his eyebrows, and walking amidst the people he would maintain a steady gaze. His gaze was not one which could be easily met; it was polite and distanced. He likes to use declarative sentences, being direct and straight to the point, very rarely containing a sense of uncertainty. He is a person who is used to taking in charge when it comes to making decisions. “Others say that Scorpios are natural-born leaders, and I’m like that.” However he burst out laughing before even finishing off, his brazenness giving in to shyness. He is aware that he appears to possess a combination of contradictory elements: a little new, a little old, a little far, a little near. “Many people feel that I am really cold, actually I have a rather warm heart. Everyone needs to have a second chance to be introduced.”
After the shoot that day, I accompanied him to his next work venue. He had to continue with movie dubbing, and the expected end time was around 2am. He changed into his own hoodie and sweatpants in the car, falling back comfortably into the seats, and time to time hummed and moved to the music. When the staff did not know how to use the airdrop function, he simply reached out to take the other party’s phone and worked it out himself. While watching his fingers dance along the two phone screens, I could not help but think, here is such a joyful 26 year old.
Music is like a switch on Kris Wu’s body, once switched on, it is as if he is powered up by a sudden surge of energy. When I mentioned the “singer” written on his Weibo verification, he let out an exaggerated expression only seen on manga characters and his fingers began to move animatedly. “We’re finally able to talk about my music? Come on, let’s.”
He couldn’t wait to introduce his new song <July>. “From debut till now, this is the music-related work which I am most satisfied with. This is the first time I have put in my all, and was immersed in all parts of making this piece of music.” It is evident where he has invested his time in, and he strongly believes that. “It’s not to say that I haven’t put in enough effort in the past, but if a time limit is put on the creation process, it will definitely have a huge impact on the quality of your final work. So having many films is good, <Bad Girl> which was released last year is good too, now even more so, I would wish for those to be seen as trailers, because right now is where it truly begins.”
He had spent three months completing the composition, recording, mixing and mastering in America. As producer, he had stayed on throughout, keeping close watch from beginning till the end. Talking about it, he sounded like a proud kid. “All of the people I worked with were incredibly outstanding musicians, and one of them was even a two-time Grammy award winner!” During that period of time, he would be in the studio every day from 2pm till 10pm. I asked if it was because that was the time when his voice was at its best, and he pondered for a moment before replying, “I’m not sure about my voice, but I can say that I am most comfortable with that timeframe. Many singers are used to recording through the night and into the morning, but I definitely can’t. Even more so, I can’t do so in the morning – I am not a morning person, the music I have done in the mornings were all in frustration.”
One song, three months - based on his jobs which were scheduled to the hour, is really a luxury. “As an artiste, whose time isn’t valuable? I can film a movie within three months. Actually all this while there have been others who have been buying songs from abroad, but there are very few who go overseas to do production work. Not only would it cost even more time and money, but one would also be faced with many uncertainties. But as long as there are people who are willing to try, why not?” He feels that this has to do more with being courageous. “In the end, what matters is how much you want to do this.”
He then began to explain the different genres and history of development of hip hop music to me in detail. “It is what I love the most, there is nothing else like it.” This was what he concluded his feelings toward hip hop with. “It’s like being unable to extricate yourself after having fallen in love with it. Perhaps there would be no way to do other genres of music, for example if you asked me to do rock, it would be very hard.” Since young, he loved wearing baggy drop-crotch pants and oversized tees, and felt that a little more satire could be included in life. From the inside to his appearance, everything was all a homage to hip hop. “My friends around me all watched, listened, and talked about hip hop. I love every single beat and rhythm, it’s as if it is imprinted in my body.”
Why go to America to produce music? “The most direct reason is that, the quality of music depends hugely on the equipment. Lyrical songs can be done to perfection in China, but when it comes to hip hop or electronic music, there isn’t enough equipment or knowledge about it in China.” He hopes to do the best with all the resources he has. “Not only the equipment, but in terms of producing hip hop music, America has more experience.” The most critical point is of course himself. “During the mixing and mastering, I would ask others if there was any difference between the two? They would not hear any difference, but because I could not choose which was a better version, I would continue on, without sleep, till five in the morning.”
He repeatedly emphasised that <July> is a song which has a “completely new hip hop style, one that has never been seen before”, [and that he wanted to] “present the purest form of hip hop to everyone”. Having a listen, besides having fun, also endowed him with a little sense of responsibility. The new song was only digitally released online, and he felt that it was “very embarrassing” if he were to release a physical copy of just one single. “My goal will always be to spread a type of music, some art, some happiness. I won’t think so much on making profit.” As to how wide a scope of affirmation he wished to have , he expressed that he did not demand of it. “I just wish to convey a work of mine, a music piece which I feel highly satisfied and extremely happy after listening to.”
That day, after driving for over an hour, we were still held up in that evening’s Beijing traffic, inching forward at a snail pace. Looking ahead at the sea of red tail lights, he could not help but rub his eyes tiredly several times, and was starting to get a little restless. “In the car, I cannot fall asleep nor get any rest.” He sighed softly, as the car switched lanes. He was worried that he would not be adequately focused. “I have to complete everything before I can relax, otherwise it would be like carrying a rock in my heart.”
Having returned to China to develop his career for two years, Kris Wu already completed filming 8 movies, and worked with Luc Besson, Stephen Chow, Tsui Hark, Feng Xiaogang and other internationally renowned people. He has graced the cover of almost all the top magazines, and was even appointed brand and product ambassador to Burberry and Bvlgari and several international top labels. View on the music video of his newest song exceeded 1 million within 14 hours of its release. The opportunities and results which other people dream of, he had grasped into his hands, and yet facing all of that, he merely explained that for all that he did, “I like it, I am happy, I work hard, and I don’t let myself down.” He is a little of a workaholic. “The most important thing is that passion, as long as it is burning in my heart, there is no problem which cannot be overcome. The scariest thing for people is to get tired of something.”
Such an answer sounds like the “standard inspirational words of wisdom of idols”, but the solemn expression on his face made others feel that this is truly his attitude towards his long term, demanding career. While working, he can forget that he is cold, hungry, or tired. He sacrificed his freedom for his job, and even when there were misunderstandings, he felt that it was within reason. Everything is fair: You win some, you lose some, and during the growth process he learned an important lesson - as long as one persists in what they genuinely love doing, and put in their utmost effort into doing it, the journey would be much more interesting than the results.
He had just wrapped up filming <Journey to the West 2: Conquering the Demons> not too long ago, playing the part of Tang Sen. To the viewers and himself, this was something which was completely unthinkable at the beginning. “Stephen Chow and Tsui Hark brought out a side of me which I did not know, and I can only say that I was incredibly fortunate to have been able to meet them.” His first meetings with both directors were not a walk in the park: Stephen Chow wanted him to try acting like a person with Parkinson’s disease. “I had no idea that I was able to act out that kind of trembling.” When he met Tsui Hark he had yet to shave off his hair, and both of them were unsure of how his final look would turn out. “There was unease in my heart.”
It’s not a huge deal to shave off hair for a role, even more so when he loved changing hairstyles since his younger days. But his shortest hairstyle was never more than a crew cut, and he had no idea how he would look like bald. Seeing the final result in the mirror for the first time, he merely felt that it was new and strange. “I still look rather handsome!” He just spent a little more time getting used to being bald. “When I woke up in the morning I would still be in a daze, I was used to touching my head, [but now] oh no, why is my hair gone? At night before sleeping, I would always wonder why it was so cold… therefore I constantly kept a beanie on.” Those months led him to have a new understanding of the ability to keep warm with hair. “People with hair really have to thank the heavens.”
After shaving off his hair, he felt more like a monk, and even practiced meditating at home. “I hoped to get into character as much as possible. For example before filming <Mr Six>, at that period of time I maintained a very cool persona, and I conversed with others in strong Beijing dialect.” Filming had taken part during the coldest time of winter in Beijing, staying up overnight outdoors with temperatures below negative ten degrees, and in the daytime having to fly around suspended by wires. He recalled that that period of time was “rather strenuous”, but even more so, clearly could feel a sense of excitement in his heart. “There are many people who were a little afraid of Stephen Chow while filming, but I didn’t feel that at all, instead I felt that his way of thinking was simply… Stephen Chow’s shots make use of abstract ideas, and there are many brief yet brilliant moments as well.”
Kris Wu paused to find the right words to describe what set them apart from the rest. “They can help you make up for the loss of 2%.” What is 2%? “It’s the minor difference in art. At times you may feel that, this is not bad, but actually there’s just a difference of 2%, which can only be seen if one has acquired an appreciation of the arts. People like Feng Xiaogang and Stephen Chow can accurately grasp that point to the fullest.”
He knows that before being able to grasp this “2%”, he would first have the ability and belief to accept imperfections. “You would constantly think, why couldn’t I do better at that time? But that can’t be helped. When I filmed my first movie, Director Xu Jinglei told me that movies are a form of imperfect art, and a sense of regret was necessary.” Right now while filming, Kris Wu simply does not watch playbacks of his scenes. “This has nothing to do with having or not having self-confidence, it’s just that I do not wish for this to impact my performance later on.”
The same goes for music. He loves the feel of performing live at the venue, there are flaws, but the joy that comes from the combination of excitement and fear is something which is most valuable. He has already accepted that “before going onstage, I would definitely feel nervous”, and said, “I will always be worried that I’ll make a mistake, but the moment I step onstage, that is forgotten. Really, I’ve never thought of what I’ve said onstage. When I stand onstage, I enjoy [the moment].” This year, as a model he walked for the Burberry show in London, and before the fashion show began, he inwardly prayed, “Hope that when I walk out I won’t go around in circles and be unable to find my way, and not fall in front of the audience.” Later on the evaluation he received was that he was calm and composed.
Since entering the industry, he felt that he himself did not change much. He liked staying at home before, and now there were even lesser opportunities to go out, “But this is alright, actually I like staying at home and watching movies, it feels like I have the whole "cinema” to myself. When I feel bored I will play video games, and I can make many interesting friends in the 2D world.“ Moreover, he has never felt lonely, as his best friends (t/n: referring to fans) were always by his side from start till end. All around the world, whenever he walked out of airports, there would always be fans waiting. "Wherever I go feels like home, it’s really warm.” They love him, and also understand him. “I have my own way of doing things. At times there would be ten days, or half a month of not posting on Weibo, and my staff would all tell me that that shouldn’t be the way, it’s as if I disappeared into thin air… But my fans know that, whenever I want to say something I would say it. They wish for me to live my life well.”
The only change “Is that I have become old!” He repeated it several times, of course as a joke – since he was young, therefore he talked about age in such a carefree manner. In the face of numerous new things coming towards him at once, he is not greedy, and deeply believes that the ability to say “no” is necessary. “I am extremely clear about what my boundaries are, and I would never let myself do things which I do not like.” He has also begun to experience the pressure of time. “No one knows how tomorrow will be like, so it is better to view things in the present, not so much of the future. Therefore I wish to maximise the limited time to a better extent, so as not to leave behind any regrets.”
Teaser to “Still Life” — Gertrud Kapelput x Elijah Van Dahl
As Elijah gingerly flipped through the album containing frozen images of Gertrud’s younger self, he lingered a moment on each photo. He paused in thought, remembering vividly the context of each picture. She was so beautiful… so kind and intelligent. He was sure he could hear her laughter, feel her wild blond curls, smell her sweet perfume mingling with the scents of the kitchen.
Elijah ran a finger over one of them, his favorite. He had captured her as she was gazing out of a window, midday sunlight illuminating her smiling face. Shadows of tree leaves peppered the surrounding area that was lit, but her angelic face was left untouched by a shadow. It appeared as though a halo had formed around her head, her blond hair shining gold. She had her hands busy making bread, and flour dusted her apron and dress. Still life of Gertrud Kapelput.
Tears formed on the edge of Elijah’s eyes. He wanted so desperately to step into the picture and relive their happy but fleeting romance. Their time together was like the first hint of fall, when the sky is crisp blue and the wind sends a small breath of coolness through the trees allowing the full, flowing sound of leaves rustling to calm any anxiety away. They had not a care in the world. Elijah’s heart felt heavy, yet it soared when he pondered upon the day they met.
Mikleo had fond his way towards a nice lookout area outside Elysia. Sitting down, he gazed out at the darkened sky with hints of blue and grey. The rain continued to fall, though not so heavily as it was before.
Thinking about it, he was supposed to have gone to Sorey’s house. Though, he’d never quite gotten there. He’s probably worried. There was most likely no need to fret over the ramblings he heard earlier. Though, the words still lingered in his mind.
Summary: You and Jungkook skipped class because you didn’t finish the project. Jungkook starts driving to who-knows-where and you realize that spending the day with Jungkook aka the Bad boy aka your bully, might not be as bad as you thought it would be
A/N - Helloooooo!! So you guys wanted a part two, and I think part three is gonna come out soon as well. I decided that some of these parts would be from Jungkook’s point of view, so if it confuses you, just know that the part written in cursive font is from Jungkook’s perspective. Thank you for reading! ;)) <3 XOXO- VIC
After driving for a really
long time (1-2hr) we finally arrive at the spot Jungkook had in mind. At first
I thought he was gonna kill me and hide my body in the woods or something,
because what else would I have thought of the bad boy himself - but after
jamming out in the car with him, that one thought didn’t cross my mind anymore.
Instead I learned that Jungkook was just like everyone else, and that there was
more to him than just that bad boys reputation.
“So, this is it?”
I ask, looking out the window from the Jeep. He nods as he trudged out of the
car. I was still looking out, not quite believing my own eyes. I never even
knew that places like these existed in our small town, it was beautiful. In
front of me was a beautiful scenery, with a clear river. There was a couple of
benches on the grass, and trees with swings on them. On the other side of the
river was another town, I didn’t know which but the view of it was amazing. I’d
prefer going here at night, to watch the city lights shine - but this was
relaxing as well.
Jungkook opened my door, and grabbed the bag under my seat. He was about to
walk away, but stops to question me - with a look - “are you not
I bolted out of the Jeep,
and followed Jungkook to where he placed the bag. I recognized a few brands
from outside the plastic bag, but I was still wondering what was hidden in
there. “What’s in there?”
What can I say, I speak my
Jungkook turns the plastic
bag to my surprise, and pour out all of the content in the bag. Out of it
falls, chocolate bars, sandwiches, drinks, chips - just a lot of food. I think
I even saw a small ketchup tube. “Food?” I remark.
“You didn’t think I’d
drive us all the way out here, without any food?” he asks, mused. When I
didn’t reply, his face turned into a serious/ confused expression. “Did
you?” He added.
sorry.” I exclaimed. He rolls his eyes, as he walks back to the Jeep. What
else could he have in there. Shortly, he came out with a blanket and some
hoodies. “What is this, a date?” I joked, scanning the hoodies. They
were really nice, I wish I could keep one. No offense to fashion designers, but
girl hoodies are so lame. When I buy hoodies, I tend to go to the guys section
just for the hoodies - they are so warm and comfy and cool!! Regardless of the
comments from my mom, I keep buying them and no one even notices that it’s from
the boys section.
“A date?” He
repeats, “with you?” He snickered - “never in a million
mumble, grabbing one of the snickers bars infront of me - attempting to eat it,
but Jungkook stops me from it. “What?” I cried. He replaces the
snickers bar in my hands with a chicken teriyaki sandwich. “Eat this first.”
“You haven’t eaten
anything today, and I don’t want to be responsible for your death.” he
stupid can you be?”
“I’m actually pretty
smart, thank you.”
“Smart? In what?”
Calculus, English, Histor-”
I cut him off, “Oh
really? Then why did you come unprepared today?” The question made the
smirk on Jungkook face, fade away and suddenly a rather sad expression
appeared. Like always, he was quick to hide it, replacing it back with his
signature poker face. “Theres more to it than you think, y/n.” The
way he said my name, it was different. This time it didn’t sound mad, annoyed,
jokingly - it was serious.
Ah, I need to pee.
He got up from his seat, my
eyes now leaving him for even a second. He was about to walk away when I
stopped him, “Where are you going?”
For a second there, I
thought he was going to leave me because he was heading towards the Jeep,
“I want to come.”
He turns, and scrunches his
eyebrows to the middle part of them. “You want to come and watch me empty
my bladder?” He teased, smirking.
“Well, if you want
to.” He added, “actually, maybe I should just do it here.” His
hands lead their way to the zip of his pants, and my eyes widened like two golf
balls as I buried my face in one of the hoodies laying on the table as I
screamed loudly, earning hysterical laughs from his side.
She’s actually kinda cute.
- suck it up, Jungkook.
“Can you hand me the
water bottle?” Jungkook asked from behind the Jeep. “Are you
“No, I’m Jungkook, now
can you please hand me the water bottle.”
“I can throw you the
water bottle.” Jungkook grunts annoyed from the other side and I grunt
back mocking him “-to you too!” I add. “I swear to god, if you
don’t give me the water bottle I’m gonna chase you around with my unwashed
Because it sounded like
something he actually would’ve done, I quickly grabbed the water bottle in
front of me and threw it in his direction. When it landed with a loud thud, and
a loud groan, I screamed “YOU ARE WELCOME.” angrily.
At least say, thank you.
“That’s not true! I’ve never stolen anything before!” I
said to my defense. We were currently laying on our backs looking up at the
clear skies as we discussed the different rumors swerving around about each of
‘’Figures.’’ I sat up and stared down at him with a
puzzled expression. ‘’What’s that supposed to mean?’’ I sassed. Jungkook got up
on his butt as well, clicking his tounge. ‘’I mean; you never do anything bad –
at least by what I’ve seen.’’
‘’And what exactly
have you seen?’’
‘’You’re good to everyone, you’ve never had detention,
you never disobey your parents and you never complain. Admit it, you’re a goody
two shoes.’’ It was a witty comment, but it was all in fact true. I’ve never
seen myself as a brat or an unrespectful child – at least to my parents that
is. But I choose to be happy, and I choose to be nice because what good comes
out of being rude.
‘’Do you have a problem with it?’’ I questioned. Jungkook
runs a hand through his brown locks, ‘’Not really.’’
I nodded. ‘’Good.’’
I looked at the scenery in front of me again, the sun shining right on me. In
the blinding light of the August noon, the river looked like pool you saw in
your friend’s garden when you were little. You just wanted to jump in it. The
heat would cause and illusion of wavering images, making me hella thirsty. I grabbed my own water bottle, and tried to
pull up the cap. It was slightly stuck, so I tried pulling it up and eventually
I managed to do it – but unfortunately the water happened to splash in Jungkook’s
face. I could tell the anger and annoyance was boiling up deep in his system. ‘’Sorry?’’
It came out more like a question than a statement. He ripped off his hoodie from
his body, and wiped away the water drops that was on his face annoyed. ‘’Do you
want water?’’ I asked, innocently.
He cocked an eyebrow. ‘’Do you want to get hit?’’
I couldn’t help
but giggle, ‘’Are you going punch me?’’ I leaned in closer, raising my shoulder.
‘’Go, ahead. Punch me.’’ I laughed.
can I punch you? You are too adorable.
Instead of punching me, he just groans before laying back
down on his back. I chuckled over him, and laid down too.
hand slightly brushed against mine when she laid down, and I couldn’t help it.
I should be over all the butterflies, but I guess I was still sort of attracted
to her. Girls would always touch me, and it made me feel things that – but yet,
this special girl here hasn’t touched me once and she could still make me feel
things I shouldn’t feel, when she’s around.
There was nothing I loved more than these hot autumn
days, when we can sit around and let the sun beat down on our skin. I wouldn’t exactly
call myself pale, but I still loved autumn. It was the season where some days
were hot as summer days, and other days were cold as mid-December. The green is
a soft green that almost has a hint of blue and in the sky is enough pristine
white cloud to show you how beautiful the sky was, how perfect. I closed my
eyes, and let the warmth soak in.
a sound coming from beside me, and I quickly turned to look if she was dead or
something but luckily she was just sleeping. It was a lovely sight from my
view. I couldn’t help but admire how flawless her skin was. I’ve seen a lot of
girls, and not a single one of them had flawless skin like hers. I knew she
used makeup, but it still looked good and natural. Her lips were carefully
tinted-red. It was like no matter the distance my attraction to her remained
me, I felt guilty for all of the rumors spreading and all the nick names and
all of that shit spreading to the whole school. When we were in grade six, I
had a crush on her – and to me, that sounded crazy., I wanted to be closerto herand talk to her at school, but at the same time I didn’t people to see
me with a geek like her. I had a great reputation in grade six, and I didn’t want
her to ruin it. Instead of approaching her nicely like any other guy, I
approached her by bulliying. That was my excuse to talking to her – by bullying
her. I didn’t know that it would last for this long. When I started high
school, I didn’t think she would go to the same one that I went to, but unfortunately
she did. My friends used the nickname that I gave her, ‘’Harriet Potter.’’ She
used to use glasses that Harry potter had, and so I changed the ‘’Harry’’ to a feminine
version – ‘’Harriet.’’
had a great reputation at high school, and this time I thought I was actually
over that small puppy crush, but seeing her after summer this year, made me
realize that I was still attracted. My heart tempo increased when I was
assigned to do a project with her, and I felt guilty as fuck when I had to take
care of mom and completely block her out. She had to the assignment alone, but
it was a presentation so when I didn’t pick up her calls she had no clue what
to write about and she ended up not writing anything. I knew this would affect
her grades and that’s why I made mental note to talk to Mrs. Glory after this.
A loud ringtone blasted through my ear, ‘’Sorry.’’
Jungkook muttered actually apologizing for waking me up. ‘’Hey, hyung.’’
Jungkook was Korean, and I knew that in Korean by
watching k-dramas that hyung meant older brother. I’m guessing his older
brother was calling him. I watched his face expression fall to a concerned one,
his brows scrunching and his jaw tighten. I noticed how he clutched his phone
hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. He ended the call without a single
word to his older brother, and turned to look at me. ‘’I’m sorry, I need to go.’’
‘’Where?’’ I questioned.
He didn’t answer,
he just trudged to the car. I quickly picked up all the blankets and the
hoodies and jumped into his car. ‘’Where are we going?’’
‘’We?’’ – I nod,
‘’There’s no we, you are going home.’’
‘’Jungkook, I can’t
go home – it’s only 10.17, my mom will call the school.’’
He slammed his head to the steering wheel lightly, as he
grunted. I didn’t know how to react, so I just sat in silence drumming my
fingers on the head board. There’s another groan escaping his mouth, ‘’Okay,
fine. You can come, but you stay in
‘’Okay boss’’ I
salute, making him roll his eyes. Something about his cocky personality was
different now, instead of the relaxed expression, he was wearing a frown. He
looked burdened, it looked like he was trying so hard to keep himself up, but
was on the verge of breaking out any minute. It made me want to hug him,
because for once I didn’t see him as a douchebag or my bully. Right now,
Jungkook appeared like a friend to me. A friend that needed to be hugged, a
friend that needed comfort. He looked…so lonely.
Y/N let out a groan as her eyes slowly fluttered open. As
she looked up, she noticed how white the sky was, if it was a sky. She couldn’t
say it was the sky, because there was no hint of blue, clouds, or birds
soaring. This white thing was glowing. It was pure, innocent, and heavenly.
Almost halo like.
As she sat up slowly, the white sky disappeared and before
her eyes was an image she was sure she’d only seen in professional pictures online.
The sunlight beamed through the clouds, a combination of yellow, orange, pink,
purple, and blue shined across the horizon. Y/N took in everything in sight and
every beautiful color. The different shades of green in the plants, leaves, and
the grass. The multicolor fish in the lake, the colorful flowers blossoming
throughout the open field, and the various shades of blue in the sky, water,
and butterflies flying freely from one flower to another.
There wasn’t a sound of any kind, nor was there a breeze. It
was just quiet. Some people might have found the silence eerie, unusual, and unnatural.
Except, Y/N found it peaceful, relaxing, and oddly enough, comforting.
As Y/N stood there, she began to realize this felt dream-like,
like it wasn’t real. It was too pretty to be real. It felt too calm to be real.
It felt too good to be true, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of something
good coming her way.
As Y/N slowly turned around to take in more of this
beautiful scenery, her eyes landed on a woman leaning against a truck from a
distance. Y/N was too far to tell who it was, but the woman looked familiar.
With every step Y/N took towards the woman, her features were becoming visible.
She was tall, blonde, and skinny. Her fair skin had a halo glow like essence to
it. She had piercing blue eyes, full pink lips, and pearly white teeth.
While Y/N stood in front of her, her eyes widen with her
mouth hung slightly open. The woman in front of her looked exactly like Y/N.
The only difference was the hairstyle. Her hair was in curls while Y/N wore her
hair naturally straight. Y/N never liked her hair curled because not only was
it a long process to curl her hair with a curling iron, but her curls would fall
down into loose waves about an hour later. She thought it was pointless.
However, this woman’s curls were neat, perfect, and absolutely flawless.
“I’ve been waiting a long time to see you, kid.” The woman
smiled. “But I never thought it would be this soon.”
Paring: Ladynoir Rating: T/General Word Count: 2857 Summary: If it takes rejection for love to blossom does that make it any less sincere? Marinette would tell you, but she doesn’t know the answer herself.
A/N: here we go again! I’m so excited to share this with you guys and I hope you enjoy it!!
Plot: The reader it seriously injured during a hunt, and Sam tries to keep her awake.
Warning: Slight blood, near-death-ish situation.
The last thing you remember clearly is the searing pain as the werewolf’s claws rip down your chest and the sudden spurt of warm liquid gushing from the wounds. From there, everything’s a jumble of black and pain and yelling.
You hear Sam yell your name, his voice a mix of terror and anguish. You feel his arms picking you up, gentle but shaking. He cradles your head on his shoulder, your arm drooping down and the other curled against his body.
Your head spins and with it, the world.
The next thing you know, is lying in the back of the Impala and a panicked conversation between the brothers.
“Faster!” That’s Sam.
“I’m trying, dammit!” Dean snaps, and you feel the vehicle swerve violently. “Five minutes!”
You crack your eyes open, your squinting against the minimal light. Sam, who’s been looking at you desperately, instantly perks up.
“Y/N!” He whispers, his hand reaching to caress your cheek. You manage a small smile, dizzy from blood loss. You can feel the blood, sticking your clothes to your body, coating his hands and body, where he’s held you close. You’re sprawled out on the back seat, your head in his lap as Dean speeds you to the hospital. “We’ll be there soon.” He promises. “Just hold on!”
“I’m so tired.” You whisper, “I want to go to sleep.”
“No!” He says, “You have to stay awake, alright? Focus on me.”
Everything is so blurred yet the colours are so intense, so bright, despite the darkness- both literal and trying to drag you down.
His face is suddenly close to yours, his nose practically touching yours. “Look at me.” He tells you, and you try to focus on his eyes. Hazel eyes, like a touch of autumn. Brown with hints of greens and yellows, maybe a touch of blue sky.
Suddenly, you feel warm. Like…an inviting warmth, and your eyelids droop. The pain is ebbing away.
“Stay awake!” Sam demands, giving you a small shake. With great difficulty, you force your eyes back open.
“Tell me a story.” You beg, needing something to focus on. He nods, his hand on your bloodied cheek again.
“Alright.” He pauses, his eyes flickering away again as he thinks. His hand reaches for yours, squeezing tightly. You offer a small squeeze back, making him smile. “Stay with me.”
“I promise.” You mumble, unable to force your mouth and throat of form the words properly, it probably sounds like a mangled mess.
Like my chest. You laugh internally as he begins to speak.
“So we’re working a case, a while ago,” He begins, “And we go to this diner in the evening. It’s nice enough, but there’s something special about it.”
You know this story.
“You see, while we’re there, we meet someone. She’s a hunter too, but she’s so much more than that. She’s smart and beautiful, and to tell you the truth, I had no desire to end up on her bad side.”
It’s getting harder to focus, but you keep trying.
“She’s just stopping by, not realizing there’s a case. But soon, she’s in on it and with her help, we get done in doubly quick time.” He’s whispering and you feel a warm tear land on your face. “She’s brilliant. When I’m with her, the world is so much brighter. I thanked whatever deity there is when she agreed to travel with us.
“Of course, I managed to fall in love with her. I fell so far, so hard, the breath was knocked from my lungs and I thought my stomach had exploded. I was so mad at myself, whenever I love someone they die. It’s always been that way.” He’s desperately trying to hold back tears, and you give his hand a pathetic squeeze. Your entire body is throbbing, your heartbeat amplified a million times. You can almost hear the blood rushing around and out of the wound.
You close your eyes for one single, relaxing second, then force them open again.
“God, I’m so lucky.” He goes on, more and more tears hitting your face. “But I realised, I can’t lose her. I’d lose myself too. I need her to go on, it’s like she has the key to my life and if she goes, it goes with her.
“I can’t lose you, Y/N. Not now. Please, you have to hang on.” You feel the car stop but he keeps talking as he carefully takes you from the seat. “I love you too much; you have to stay with me. I need you. You complete me. Stay with me.” He says again. The blackness is near overwhelming. “I love you, Y/N. So much.”
You manage a small, “I love you too.” Before the dark warmth envelopes you.
Your head pounds and your whole body aches. Breathing is hard, and there’s something attached to you. Actually, you realise, as you slowly gain consciousness, there’s lots of somethings attached to you. In your nose and at least two in each arm, a monitor on your finger and something on your chest. There’s a hand clasped around yours, and you can feel that someone’s leaning on the side of the bed.
When your eyes open, they’re greeted by a painfully sterile, bright room. You turn your head.
“Y/N!” Sam’s voice is excited. “Oh, God, you’re awake! They weren’t sure…”
You merely look at him, willing your voice to work. There’s things you want to say but apparently, your voice box isn’t working today.
“You do know who I am?” A look of panic crosses his face, and he pulls back a little.
You laugh, your voice scratched and barely working.
“I remember you, don’t worry.” You whisper, each word carving another graze into your throat. At least, that’s what it feels like.
He passes you a glass of water, which you eagerly gulp down. You hold it out, silently asking for more.
After three glasses, you’re done.
“Oh, God, I love you so much.” He says, relieved. Tears spring to his eyes, “I thought I was going to lose you.”
“Where am I?” You ask, “What happened to me?”
“Some Saint’s Hospital. A werewolf got you. It could have been worse- head trauma, even.”
“What’s wrong with me?”
His spare hand moves to your cheek as he tells you, “Three broken ribs, severe blood loss, punctured lung. Probable concussion.” He adds, “You’ve been out for three days.”
“That long?” You ask, surprised. “I always was a heavy sleeper.”
He laughs at that, “Haven’t lost your sense of humour, then.”
“Nope.” You smile, looking accusingly at the needles in your arms. “Are these really necessary?”
“For now, I think so.” He smiles.
You catch up, talking for a while. You joke around, trying to avoid anything serious. After a while, the nurse comes in and gives you pain meds, which makes you incredibly drowsy.
“Listen, Y/N.” Sam suddenly. You, trying to stay awake, nod. “I need you to promise something.”
“Anything.” You tell him honestly.
“Never leave me alone, please. I need you with me. Everything I said was true. I don’t know if you believe in marriage or whatever, and frankly I don’t care, but I need you with me for the rest of our lives.” He says, his words totally heartfelt and honest.
“I promise.” You squeeze his hand and he leans in and kisses you softly.
“Get some sleep, Y/N. I’ll be here when you wake up. I love you.”
You’d answer, but you’re too far into the realms of sleep.