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around1302 · 1 year

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XVII. YOU HAVE ME

SPARE PARTS: a series (17/20)

BOLOGNE, ITALY

(W) strong language, family restraints, alcohol use, fingering

good lord this has taken me some time to finish. i’m so sorry, life just got in the way. hopefully 4.3k of a smidge of angst and a fuck-ton of fluff makes up for it!

HARRY’S POV

“What’s the move for tonight?”

“You can do what you want, I’m taking Charlie out.”

Niall’s usual grin twists into a smirk, his eyes glinting. I resist the urge to roll my own.

I am taking Charlie out. Not that she necessarily knows that yet.

I don’t mean to sound like a desperate man, but I need Charlie and I to move on like I need air. I can feel her warming to the idea of me, but at the end of the day she still just sees me as her annoying bandmate who’s up to giving her an orgasm or two.

I need to be more than that to her. I can’t be either nothing or just her temporary fix.

And if there’s one thing that’s apparent about Charlie, it’s that she’s a hopeless romantic. She doesn’t crave sneaking around and fleeting glances and meaningless moments. I’ve seen her face light up more from seeing a couple holding hands in public than when I’ve been literally going down on the girl.

In fact, in the time I’ve known her, she’s only ever dated one person – Zayn, which is also why this could get messy.

(But fuck him. I was there first).

“I’d love to say I’m surprised about this whole thing, but I’m really not.” Niall snorts.

I narrow my eyes, but before I can ask anymore questions, the guys barge into Niall’s suite.

“Fuckin’ Hell, Horan. You have it fancy in here.” Louis gawks far too loudly for the fancy establishment we’re in, but I have to say, I share the sentiment. We all have nice rooms (it’s the most expensive hotel in Bologne, for God’s sake) but Niall managed to bag da Vinci’s fucking shrine.

Niall shrugs, sitting up with that mischievous flicker in his eyes.

“Lia still out?”

“Yeah,” Liam explains, “she’s dragging Charlie and Zayn round the shops. Tried to rope us in but we managed to escape.”

My chest tightens. I force it to relax.

Liam throws his legs up on the Ottoman, stretching out. After the show last night, we’re all exhausted. After nearly four months of touring, non stop performing and the consequential non stop partying, we’re all wiped the fuck out. It’s why Niall and I said no to their little day trip around Italy. To put it frankly: I can’t be arsed with the tourism shit when there’s a mini bar five feet away from me up here.

“Good,” Niall reaches behind him, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket.

“What the fuck is that?” I spit.

“This, my friend,” Niall flicks the box open. My suspicions are confirmed, “is about to get me the best head I’ve ever had.”

“Holy shit.” Louis grabs the diamond, making Niall fly up and snatch it back.

“For real?” Liam stands too, while I’m still sat in shock.

“Why I got this fancy suite,” Niall’s as giddy as a kid on Christmas, “want to do it tonight. Italy’s always been her favourite place and I figure–”

“You’re twenty-one.” “Twenty-two this year.”

I scowl. Niall’s cheeky grin droops.

“Oh come on, man. Who cares how old we are? I know I’m gonna be with this girl till I’m all old and gross and grey, why not seal the deal now?”

“Because it’s insane!” I splutter. I’m not angry. Am I? Why am I angry?

“Hardly,” Louis sharply laughs, “they’ve been basically married since they met.”

“Okay, but being basically married and being actually married are two very different things.”

“Dude, don’t you think I know that? I have thought about this, you know.”

My jaw tightens.

My best friend is about to propose to his girlfriend, and I can’t say I’ve ever even had one. The girl I’ve been in lo– whatever. It doesn’t matter. The point is, I can narrow my anger down to one, ugly thing: bitter fucking jealousy.

So, I do the mature thing; I storm out.

Luckily for me, the second I step out into the hallway – all heaving chest and unnecessary frustration – Charlie, Amelia and Zayn bump into me. They’re all laughing about something, a million shopping bags between them.

“Oh, hey man–” Zayn starts, but I cut him off by grabbing Charlie’s waist and pushing her in the direction of my room. The sliver of skin given to me below her crop top sends a spike through my spine.

I don’t care that Zayn is probably about to start quizzing Amelia to no end, all I care about is the universe quite literally handing me the only person I want to talk to right now.

“Yo, what the fuck?” She twists, staring at me with what I assume is a mixture of vexation and confusion, but I’m too busy staring ahead to notice. Charlie doesn’t make a move to escape my grip (something I know she’s more than capable of doing), so I keep walking us to my room.

I messily scan my keycard and grab her shopping, setting it down as carefully as I can in my haste before closing the door with her body.

There’s something else I want to do before talk.

But, I hesitate for a moment, brushing my lips against hers. I silently ask for permission, pulling her toward me so her lower back lifts from the door and our torsos press together. She hesitates, too. Brushing her nose against mine before kissing me with as much urgency as I got her into the room with.

I sigh into her mouth, completely wrapping my arms around her back to hold her flush against me. “Missed you,” I mumble against her lips, trailing my hand up to hold the back of her head. I rake my fingers through her hair, loosening her ponytail.

“Missed you too.” She gasps, looping her fingers through my belt hooks.

I nearly let myself smile, but then she palms me over my jeans.

Quickly, I hold her wrist, preventing me from dragging her to bed and insisting we don’t leave my hotel room all night. “Go out with me.” I let the words tumble like a subconscious spill, letting my chest do all the work so my brain doesn’t have to.

Frowning, she pulls back. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I want to rewind and let her do whatever she wants with me. Why the Hell did I–

“Go out with you?” She’s smiling. She’s smiling.

“Yeah,” I feel my cheeks heating. I’m getting shy, for fuck’s sake. I don’t do shy. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve said those four words over the years, and I’ve lost count of how many people I’ve said it to. I don’t recall nerves ever being a factor in that habit.

“You realise I’m a sure thing, right?” She cocks her head, and I want to kiss the faint dimple that pops beside her lips. I settle for her bottom lip.

“I want to take you out.” I pull her lip between my teeth, bathing in the way she sighs. “Properly.”

“You’re having me on.”

“Nope,” I pop. I need to banish this shy thing. Fuck the shy thing. I realise our proximity might have something to do with that, so I step away, flicking the light on so I can see her properly.

Her cheeks are rosy and her eyes are dark and her hair is mussed and– and shit. I’m so gone on this girl. She folds her arms across her shirt, and that’s when I notice the shirt. It’s my shirt – the one I gave her weeks ago, the band she claims to hate, the shirt I’ve dreamt about fucking her in ever since.

The shirt which now rests just below her bra.

“Oh,” she clocks my thought process – probably because I’m staring at her chest – and fumbles with the messy hem. “Shit, sorry. I never even asked if you wanted it back–”

“Never.” I murmur.

A pause. “What?”

I blink back to reality, back to her eyes. “I never wanted it back,” I clear my throat, try and regain some conviction, “the band sucks anyway.” I wink, she chuckles.

God, maybe we should just stay here. We could order room service and continue our theme of fucking in hotel showers and spend all night getting sweatier and sweatier in between the sheets and–

No! No. I need to take her out.

“Be ready by seven.”

I bend to pick up her shopping, handing it back. Charlie takes the bags slowly, looking at me like I just told her my name’s actually Bill.

Then, softly, nearly meekly, she whispers, “I thought we had rules?”

My lungs stop working. “We did. We do.”

Right – I’m not even considering her right now. I know what I want, and I know I want it badly. I need to learn I can’t just demand this. Sure, I’ve waited six years, but she sure as shit doesn’t know that.

Patience is a bitch.

She looks at me, scrutinising, studying. I want to read her mind, it seems to all work so complicated up there. A million bolts and cogs working tirelessly; I’d give it all up for just a peek.

“I suppose I’d be pretty stupid to deny we’re at least friends at this point, right?”

I can breathe again. “Right.” I rush to say.

“So… dinner as friends. Yeah?”

“Absolutely.” No, fuck no. “Bonding time.”

She purses her lips, seemingly amused. Nodding, she swivels from the door, palm wrapped around the handle and about to let me stand in my room and punch the air but…

“You sure you don’t want me to help you out first?”

Her eyes flicker accusingly at my crotch. Specifcally, my hard on, from just kissing the girl.

It’s like I’m fucking fifteen again.

I snort, pushing my tongue against my cheek to stop the habitual impulse to say something inappropriate. I want to scream yes, God, yes but I can’t. Charlie’s like some kind of kryptonite – one handjob will turn into one blowjob will turn into round after round after round.

“I’m good, love.”

Charlie scowls. “You’re really just going to try every nickname in the book, aren’t you?”

“That’s the plan, sweet pea.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she swings the door open, so before it slams behind her I shout a reminding,

“Seven!”

And then I stand in my room, and punch the air.

“Jesus, Styles, this place is fancy.”

I smirk. “Only the best for a princess.”

“Hey–”

“I’m kidding! Here,” I let go of the small of Charlie’s back to pull her chair out for her, “sit, before you hit me.”

“I can still reach you from over here.”

I playfully roll my eyes as I take my seat. She definitely can. I made sure to get us a table hidden away, close enough for our legs to accidentally tangle and far enough away from anyone else Charlie doesn’t need to worry about people.

She’s always panicked about mobs. The first one was pretty traumatic I guess, and ever since she’s been the overly cautious one in public. Never seen without heavy glasses and an even heavier hoodie, so I made sure she wouldn’t be spending our first date (that is what I’m declaring that is, friends or not) in fear.

It’s not conceited if saying your name for a last minute res at one of the most established restaurants in Bolonge works. Fame has it’s perks, I’m allowed to admit that.

… I think.

Within a few seconds, a waiter comes over with a bottle of red I preorded on the phone. Charlie leans back, looking at me quizzitivley as he pours us both a glass and leaves the rest between us. We thank the waiter, and I gauge her reaction.

A pause. My heart awaiting a beat.

“I’m impressed.” She raises her brows, a glimmer of a smile on her rouge lips.

“Good,” I lift my glass, clinking it against hers before we both take a sip.

I let my eyes properly roll over her for the first time since I met her outside the hotel. It was too dark and too much of a rush to the car for me to drink her in, and God. She looks fucking edible. She’s wearing a strapless dress that lets my wind wander to every inch of skin I can kiss with her still in the thing – but, Jesus, stop.

Tonight isn’t about that.

Quiet falls on us, because, well. What do we talk about if not for the security of sex or argument, if not for the safety net of anyone else around us? Here, we’re uninterrupted. In fact, no. We’re not anything.

We’re two people on a first date. We’re fresh.

“You know,” Charlie chuckles to herself, setting her glass down and leaning on her palms, “I love trying to figure out the other people at restaurants like this. Like, okay, that couple,” she nods behind me, so I try and turn as discreetly as I can. She hits my leg. “Don’t be so obvious!” She hisses behind a smile.

I’ve just gone and made things worst myself by taking Charlie out, haven't I?

“That couple is on their first date, and he’s trying to figure out how to leave.”

“And how do you know that, Sherlock?”

Charlie shrugs and leans back to take another sip.

“I know people. He’s fidgeting like crazy, looked at the bathroom like five times in the past thirty seconds. For sure planning his escape.”

“Or he just really needs a shit.”

Charlie snorts into her glass, spraying wine onto her cheeks. I guffaw, and both of us fall into laughter too loud for an establishment like this. “Fuck, my makeup.” Charlie taps at her cherry stains aimlessly, so I lean across with my napkin.

“Here, hold still,” I chuckle, pinching her chin between my fingers and trying to get as much grapejuice from her face. In the midst of the scene, our waiter returns.

“Are you… oh.” He clears his throat, and we pause to look up.

“We might need a few more minutes.” I mumble. Charlie grins sheepishly.

Yeah, okay, maybe it is conceited – but thank God we do what we do, because judging by the compressed scowl on the guy’s face as he leaves us, we were one 0 in our bank accounts away from being kicked out.

As I’m wiping at her face, our eyes lock, and the words tumble out before I can think about what I’m saying.

“Niall’s proposing to Amelia.”

She gasps. I sit back.

Silence holds us, until a slowly whispered, “shit,” punctures it.

“Yeah.”

I see her reach for her wine. Then she downs it.

“So I told my mum Gemma was a drug dealer. Of course my mum was like, Harry, she’s nine. But it was the worst thing I could come up with at six years old.”

Charlie throws her head back at the story of myself and my sister, one of my favourite memories to relay. I stab my fork in my pasta and try and muffle my grin as Charlie giggles away.

“I never thought you’d be the type to take WWF wrestling so personally.”

I shrug. “I was a dedicated fan. I still refuse to believe it’s staged.”

Her laughter dies, and she gets this sort of gone off look in her eyes. Like she’s thinking about something, someone, and then it hits me – I’ve been sat here reeling off stories about my sister without any regard for the fact she no longer has hers.

“You know,” she shifts, eyes dropped to her plate. She pushes a piece of broccoli around with her silverware, chewing on her lip. Then, her voice gets quiet, small, when she admits, “I don’t think my parents have called me one time this whole tour.”

She chuckles to herself, but it’s void of any humour.

“They did their usual prayer for my safety before I left, and rang to see if I had changed my mind, but…”

I dip my head to meet her eye. She looks up at me, meekly. Like tears are threatening to spill but she’s using every muscle to hold them back. I’m so terrible in situations like this, I never say the right thing because, truthfully, people don’t often open up to me.

(Not like this, at least.)

So, I go with my gut, and pray it doesn’t betray me.

“Pretend I’m your parents.”

Charlie piques. “What?”

Confidence begins to slip from me, evident in the way I mess with my hair and twist my rings beneath the table. “Pretend I’m your parents,” I repeat – despite the out she just gave me.

“This apart of that daddy kink you were talking about?” She smiles smally.

“No,” I lilt. “Tell me about tour. Look,” I sit up straight, bringing my hair forward and cracking my neck. Getting into character. I lift my hand to my ear, pretending to be on the phone. “Hi sweetie, how’s tour going?”

Charlie snorts. “That supposed to be my mum?”

“I’ve never met the woman, go with it.”

She rolls her eyes, but she sits up and lifts her hand, too.

“Hi mum. It’s fine.”

“Fine? Come on, you’ve been away for months.”

She sighs, giving me that look through those lashes. I lift my brows.

“It’s been amazing, actually.”

I smile. We’re getting somewhere.

“Everyone really likes our album,” she continues, “and I started banging the one with long hair you always tell me I need to stay away from.”

“Heey,” I drop the ‘phone’. She looks pointedly at my hand. I raise it again.

She heaves a breath, her expression stone again.

“I wish you’d try and understand my job a little more. I think you’d see what I’m doing is actually really cool if you took the time.”

My chest aches. I knew Charlie had a strained relationship with her parents, I just never knew why. They’d never come to shows, she would never mention them. I don’t even remember them sitting with her at Poppy’s funeral.

Maybe when Charlie blamed herself for her sister’s death, her parents did too.

“You were wrong, by the way.”

I got so lost in my own anger I forgot we were doing this.

“Wrong?” I ask.

“About the dude with long hair. He’s actually alright.”

I couldn’t let this night end.

We practically got kicked out of the restaurant when we wound up being the last two in there, and then we stumbled our way to my hotel room and have been laid on the bed giggling over nothing for the last hour.

Red wine is strong shit.

So far, I’ve learnt Charlie hates the colour purple, secretly loves 90s horror and sometimes worries she made a mistake by going to that audition six years ago.

“I just want a dog, y’know?”

“You can have a dog.” I laugh.

“No, no,” she flips, her hair messily cascading her shoulders as she hovers above me. I let the wine guide my hand, tucking a strand or two behind her ear. She leans into my palm. “I want a dog, and a spouse, and a kid.”

I caress her cheek, and then she lays her face completely on my chest. I freeze, watching in awe as she shifts so her legs hang off the bed and her head is on the spaces were my shirt gives way to my skin. Charlie tilts her head, closing her eyes when my fingers find home on her scalp.

I just want this, I want to scream.

“What?”

Fuck. Wait. Did I not think that?

The domestic bliss lasts all of ten seconds before she’s sitting up again.

I’m at a loss for words. I’m sure she’s going to leave, that I just fucked up this whole night, but then she’s climbing a top of me. My hands instinctively fly to her thighs, holding her close through the silk while she assesses me from above, her hair a curtain.

“You want friends with benefits forever? That’s your end goal?” She sounds amused, so I can’t tell if she’s being serious or not. I want to shout, is that all I am? Even after today, after everything?

I’m better at holding in my thoughts this time, though.

“You really think we can ever be friends?”

Then, she sighs and straightens. Her hair no longer tickling my neck.

“Jesus, you’re confusing. I thought that was why you took me out in the first place!”

This girl will be the death of me.

“Okay, Charlie,” I sit up, gripping her waist to pull her against me. I feel her chest huff out against mine in three quick, fluttering motions. “Let me be crystal clear,” I cradle her face, now, just brushing her bottom lip. She leans into my touch again, and I feel every ounce of self-doubt fade away with the sigh she lets out. I knock my nose against hers.

“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”

Charlie rushes to say, “You have me,” whilst fisting at my shirt.

As much as I want that to be true, I know she doesn’t believe those words in the same way I want to believe them. So, I stifle a breathy chuckle, shaking my head.

“I don’t think I do.” My throat stutters at the word baby. I haven’t tried that one out yet.

“What do you mean? I’m right here.”

Charlie looks genuinely confused, which I suppose is the problem. The problem I created. I pull back, sinking into her brown eyes till I’m sure I’ve turned to stone. All I’ve wanted for the last six years is to hear Charlie say those words: you have me. Yet, in this moment, I realise I’ve gone about all of this completely wrong.

“I want a redo.” I barely whisper, insecure in my words.

“A redo?”

I quickly lick my lips. “Of everything.” I thumb at her jaw. “I fucked it all up, Charlie.”

“Fucked what up?” She deadpans, clearly tired of my inexplicability.

“You. Me. Us. This.”

Charlie shorts out a huff, as if she’s finally got it.

“We didn’t know this would end up happening–”

“I knew.”

I let my confession barrel before me. If I scare her off, then fuck it. I scare her off. But she needs to know. She needs to know that,

“I’ve wanted you since we were sixteen and you shouted at me for being late to our first recording. I knew the minute you stood there in your stupid scarf and your even stupider boots that I was going to have it bad for you and I’ve not known what to do with it since.”

Charlie looks startled, but she’s unmoving from my lap, so I take it as a sign to keep going.

“I thought that you’d always hate me,” my throat swells, “so I’ve been a prick to you and I… especially after Zayn, I just didn’t…” I shake my head, looking down, losing myself.

It’s the wine, that’s all that’s fuelling this sudden, dumb confession. The wine and the fact that right now my best friend is probably engaged. But, then...

Charlie lifts my chin.

Charlie hesitates.

Charlie’s eyes flick back and forth between mine.

Charlie kisses me.

I kiss back with force, pouring everything I couldn’t say into her lips. I hold the back of her head, moaning against her tongue as she pushes me back to the pillow and grips my shirt so hard it pulls nearly painfully against my back.

And then she stops.

“Zayn told me after Amsterdam he loves me.”

Just found the quickest way to kill a boner.

“Oh.” Is all I can say, apparently.

“But I don’t…” she trails off, her eyes dropping to my lips. “I don’t love him.”

“Okay.” I whisper.

My insides are having a fucking party, right now.

“That doesn’t mean I love you.” She rushes to clarify. I smile.

“I know.”

“But you are the first person I think about when I wake up. And when I go to sleep. And while that’s confusing because most of the time you piss me off, you don’t seem to do that anymore.”

I try not to sound so excited as I respond. “At all?”

“I mean, don’t push it.”

I chuckle, brushing her hair from her face. But then a dreadful pit starts to hole its way through my stomach, and I have to ask,

“You’re not just saying this because you want a dog?”

Charlie smiles against my lips. “I want you, Harry.” One sweet, chaste kiss. “I’m not thinking about the dog right now.”

I lean up to kiss her, flipping her onto her back. My hand slips under her dress, and her breath hitches. “Good,” I breathe against her mouth, rubbing her over her knickers. Her gasp travels to the back of my throat, and I swallow it, keep it, store it, run it over and over in my mind as I push her pants to the side and curl my middle finger in her.

“Stay the night?” I ask, adding my index finger.

“Oh,” Charlie moans, her head tipping back. I kiss her throat, “yes.”

“Yes, you’ll stay the night?” I nip at her neck, losing myself in vanilla and Merlot.

“Yes, Harry,” she pulls my face up, “just assume from now on I will always– fuck, stay the night.”

I grin. Her nails dig into my nape as I pull my fingers out and rub her clit.

“God, like that,” she breathes as I push my finger down harder, tuning myself to every gasp and moan she gives me. I kiss her through her orgasm, muffling her cries with my mouth despite wanting the entirety of Italy to hear how pretty she sounds when she comes.

“Always so good for me, baby.” I murmur, gripping her thigh as I shift my weight and move her core to my own thigh, still covered by the overpriced trousers I asked Amelia to find for me. She bucks her hips, capturing my bottom lip between her teeth. I whimper.

“Baby,” she breathes questioningly. “I like that one.”

taglist: @lilfreakjez @be-with-me-so-happily @sirtommyholland @tpwksm @b-reads-things @tiaamberxx @daphnesutton @mleestiles

#spare parts series #harry styles series #one direction series #harry styles x oc #harry styles enemies to lovers #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #1d series #1d ot5 #1d smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles friends with benefits #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic rec #one direction smut #one direction #one direction ot5 #ot5

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randomnumbers751650 · 8 months

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That post on Superman made me think why I’m writing my novel. Since it’s from a work that I haven’t got to finish (got sidetracked because I decided that I should write a fanfic where an idol reincarnates as a mech pilot), I’ll put under Read More.

I mentioned in the tags that gentleness is underrated strength in our current time (among others). Maybe I was just being a boomer when saying this, so you can ignore that, but still why do many people complain? I studied heroism and heroes from an academic point of view and I know that the monomyth/hero’s journey is bullshit.

In my novel, Mara is a loser. Both before and after going to Tabula. Before, she’s poor, ugly, unhealthy and perceives herself to be unloved and unlovable (she thinks her mom hates her and she’s only partially right). After that, nothing changes; even if she gets the “solution” to being poor, ugly and unhealthy, everyone there is brainwashed to serve her and those aren’t either freaking hate or pantshittingly fear her.

But one thing that I want to include is Mara losing all intellectual debates and discussions. I always hated the trope of small kid humiliating everyone else. Mara is just a teenager, she only doesn’t flunk because she’s studying in the literally worst school in all of Tokyo, they’re too apathetic to flunk kids there. Of course she has no capacity to win against an intellectual debate (1).

Returning to Mara, she has a few things: faith, kindness, gentleness. She’s the very definition of a good girl and that’s what being tested here. Tojava is doing all those things because, while she believes in the good potential of mankind, she thinks the best course of action is removing mankind’s ability to choose evil, no matter the cost. Mara has to be tempted to either agree with Tojava or become bitter and closed to the world (because she isn’t becoming a villain, she has no drive for that).

But I’m aiming for a third choice. Mara is a devout Catholic, but, in the beginning she’s one because it fulfills a need in her life (God is love), so she doesn’t really know why she is one. Her time in Tabula will test that and many times she’ll feel God has abandoned her. But through perseverance she has to learn she can’t be someone passive; if God is love, you have to put that in practice. Otherwise, her defeat is guaranteed because those fancy powers are temporary.

That’s what makes Superman so interesting as a character: he has a lot of fancy powers, but they don’t really define who he is; rather, they provide even more incentive for him to be kind, gentle, compassionate. And I hope to do something like that in my novel.

(1) There’s an academic edge to this, which is fitting because I work in the field. Aristotle taught us that debates can be won and the one who lost should submit (I only read his Poetics, but this I’m saying from a former pastor of mine who said this to me, who, in hindsight, was a bit too much interested in winning arguments, and whose church I don’t go anymore for a large variety of reasons and I don’t regret anything), but the more I study philosophy of science, the more I see that, from a technical point of view it’s impossible to win a debate because we’re always discovering new things in science that might make old debates outdated. It’s like attributing magical properties, the final word of a debate is a conversion spell. I won a debate once, when I had facebook, against a contact who always won against me; I managed to trap him and win…we stop talking (he was another who put way too much interest in winning debates), but even after “winning”, I felt it was one of the emptiest experiences of my life. Contrast with Ayn Rand, another person who had a bit too much faith in the miraculous properties of debates, and a big fan of Aristotle, who loved to create strawmen for her characters to beat subhuman antagonists; and whose biographers said it was invincible in debates, but her invincibility was more because it made the other realize “why the hall am I taking to her?” and just move on with their lives. This is why I hate the trope of "super genius defeats so-called wise men", because it's just so self-indulgent in a toxic way, even when I agree with the winning side.

#writing notes #to be honest #im still struggling how to plan maras character development

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chamomileharry · 2 years

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hii, how are you? i was wondering if you had any fic where one of them is deaf? and they use sing language? tysm<3

hi friend! here are the ones i have (: hope you enjoy <3

as always, please read the tags and remember to leave kudos and a nice comment for the author! if you have any requests, feel free to ask please, I'd love to help in any way! any recommendations you may have are also welcomed! <3

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ✩ Fingers Crossed (5k) // Moriartied

"Harry's been deaf since he was born. Louis is newly graduated after studying sign language, and Harry hires him to translate for all the classes he'll be attending. It's Harry's first year at a uni for non-deaf people and Louis takes it upon himself to help Harry feel like he belongs. Along the way, he gets close with Harry's group of friends and even closer to Harry." ✩ A Little Too Much (5k) // toritastic11

Harry Styles wasn’t born deaf. He didn’t plan on being deaf either, until life reared it’s ugly head nine years ago and the cards fell where they did. Some would say he’s coping as best as he can, his sister calls him bitter, and his mum wishes he would smile more, but being a morose poet seemed to click for a moping Harry, so a morose poet he became.

Alternately; Harry's a depressed poet and Louis is the sun that helps him come alive again.

✩ Worth a Thousand Words (7k) // TheIfInLife “Look, I’m learning some new stuff!”

My name is Louis. My favorite color is green. I like movies. Do you know sign language?

Harry huffed grumpily. Why are you learning sign language?

“Because, I want to be able to talk to you.” Louis looked small, gripping tightly at the steering wheel.

Why?

You’re my friend. Louis signed shakily, having to try it a few times before getting it right. And well, Harry just snapped.

We’re not friends. I don’t know what makes you think that we’re okay but we’re not. You stopped being my friend once you found out that I went deaf. I don’t know if this is your way of ‘making up for it’ or if you think that hanging out with the deaf guy and learning a bit of sign language is your ‘kind deed’ to the world but I don’t want to be your charity case and I don’t want to be your friend.

or Harry went deaf at 5 years old and Louis just wants the chance be heard.

✩ Whipped Cream (24k) // writingstylinson

Harry isn't focused on anything except growing his online photography business and keeping his service dog at his side. It's important since he's always being undermined due to his deafness.

The last thing Harry needs are his client's brother trying to convince him to go out on a date with him.

[Harry is a deaf photographer in charge of taking Lottie's wedding pictures. Louis is determined for Harry to be his plus one.]

✩ Is it a sign? (25k) // bluegreenish

“Also, I didn’t mean it literally,” Harry continues his rambling, gesticulating to support his point. “You don’t owe me a beer and I surely don’t expect you to buy me anything, it was just to start a conversation but you’re obviously not interested in that. Which, again, maybe next time an omega, or anyone really, approaches you, you could convey -”

To Harry’s surprise, he’s interrupted by the handsome stranger, who’s been weirdly fixated on his lips the whole time. What a creep!

“You speak so fast, I can’t read your lips like this.”

What? Harry’s frown deepens and he just stares at the man, waiting for him to explain. Because why the hell would he need to read Harry’s lips? They’re not in some detective movie.

The man rolls his eyes at Harry’s obvious lack of understanding.

“I’m deaf,” he huffs and points to his ear.

And oh. Yikes. That’s kind of embarrassing.

or, the one where Harry meets a certain handsome alpha at his sister's wedding and learns that speaking verbally doesn't have to be the only means of communication.

#chamomileharryficrec #my asks #answered ask #larry fic rec #deaf character #use of sign language

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tteokdoroki · 3 years

Text

waves that hurt | k.bakugou + i.midoriya.

♡ pairing: katsuki bakugou x gn!reader x izuku midoriya.

♡ word count: 3.04K

♡ rating: everyone.

♡ genre: pro hero!au, hurt, angst and comfort.

♡ summary: dark days mean dark waves that crash across your mind, intrusive and mean the waves pull you under— but they are the helping hands that pull you up and let you breathe.

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy tw for depression, intrusive thoughts and self depreciation, self doubt and low self-worth. this fic is written mostly from personal experiences and may not be accurate to how everyone feels! mentions of therapy.

♡ author’s note(s): this is my contribution to @doinmybesthere ‘s mental health awareness collab, this is kinda personal to me and something i experienced recently!! i hope it can provide some comfort to anyone out there, please don’t forget to check out everyone else’s works and i hope you’re all safe ‘n well <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

“kacchan, it’s much worse this time, i really think you should come home early tonight.”

deku whispers into the phone, his marred hands rub slow and soothing circles into your back from over the duvet— you can feel his warmth, light and airy through it but he feels and sounds much further away. a million miles across a dark ocean that trickles through your thoughts, intrusive and mean, keeping you under and away from clear air.

you wouldn’t want to pull him into this, bother him with the way you drown in dark thoughts— so you pull away from your boyfriend and tuck yourself away into the sheets.

izuku doesn’t retract his hand even as you pull away, listening to katsuki grunt orders down the phone— make sure yn’s eaten, make sure yn’s had water. basic things you should be able to do on your own but can’t, paralysed by the anxiety and depression that clamps down on you like a vice and refuses to let you up so you can just breathe. you want to breathe and not feel like the world is crashing down on you, to have a second to yourself where everything seems like it’s okay.

brushing fingers over the nape of your neck, toying with the coils of your baby hairs, your boyfriend speaks, only gently. “baby,” says quietly, his weight causing the bed to dip. “katsuki will be home soon, do you want to come with me to let him in?” you shrug, a sick feeling twisting in your gut. you see the black tendrils and waves in the back of your mind, bringing forth a new batch of ugly words that force you down. are you really that much of a burden these days that katsuki has to call it quits on work for you? “how are you feeling?”

you don’t know, you don’t know how to tell him that every thought you have hurts and there’s a pain in your chest with every breath you take. “i don’t know, it’s just...bad izu…” you want to explain how you feel deep inside, but the words are trapped like balls of tar in your throat— fear that if you say something he’ll walk away.

“you don’t have to say anything, don’t force yourself to…” he speaks with a soft voice, cotton to your ears in an attempt to soothe you. you can just about feel the clean air flowing through your lungs at the sound— it tells you he loves you, no matter what and you almost believe it before sinking back under. “let’s get you some water okay? wouldn’t want kacchan scolding us would we?”

the joke hangs in the murky and heavy air for a few seconds before you muster a small smile— your green haired boyfriend lets out a tiny sigh of relief and pressed a kiss into your hairline, the affection simmers under your skin and briefly brings light to your dark mind as izuku starts leading you to the kitchen.

you’re curled up in izuku’s lap when the front door pops open with a click— signifying your other boyfriend had arrived home. you flinch, hiding yourself in the blankets keeping you warm and locking away the dark thoughts from the eyes of your lovers.

part of you hated them seeing you this way, that’s why you forced yourself to keep everything away from them— but they knew, they always did and always came to your rescue. you didn’t want them to feel like they had to look after you when the days were bad and draining and your mind took hold of everything that you felt. you didn’t need the weight of your own problems on the shoulders of two pro heroes who had enough to deal with.

in the end, you would destroy them like you did with yourself.

you can hear katsuki shedding his gear by the door, feeling his intense and heated presence flood the room and barely penetrate the barrier you created for yourself even while you lay in izuku’s arms. for as long as you’d known the two— even from back in your U.A days, bakugou had hated self-pity, of course in recent years he’d cooled down a little and spoke less on the actions of others but even still, you weren’t sure if you could handle him looking down on you for looking down on yourself and for feeling this way.

the blanket is suddenly lifted from your head, momentarily blinding you with the overwhelming light that is your boyfriend, katsuki bakugou. a twinkle of concern lines his ruby eyes and you can see traces of his charcoal eyeliner that he usually smudges underneath his mask— he’s so beautiful but you’re afraid of the twitches of worry, afraid that he’s mad at you for being the way you are.

“hey honey,” bakugou hums, crouching to your level to cup your cheeks, stress bleeding from his body when you nuzzle into him.

izuku gives you a squeeze, an encouraging one and you nod. “hi,” is all you can muster, afraid of blurting the intrusive words that crackle across your brain.

katsuki sits back on his haunches, looking between you and his boyfriend before he attempts to kick off his shoes. the room is full of a thick, ugly quietness that you know you’re responsible for— they don’t have to say anything, you know that it’s you. because when you’re like this it’s hard for bakugou and midoriya to talk, afraid that they’ll say something to set you off and you afraid that they’ll leave if they knew how you really felt. how trapped and alone you felt inside, how the twisted darkness added tones to your vibes and dragged you down with every step that you took.

they don’t need to say it because it flows from your body like a rushing river and drowns them, fills their lungs and it’s your fault for infecting them with your own bitter taste of life.

“have you eaten?” the blonde of the two boys asks, looking you dead in the eye. you want to answer, but again the viscous back from earlier starts to flood through your body. you try to take care of yourself of these days where you feel it the hardest, but it’s difficult to move and to breathe— and the drive to complete even the simplest of tasks is barely ever there.

you move to speak, caught up in the thick smog of your own brain when izuku gives your body a squeeze and shakes his head, the forest of his hair brushing against your cheek. “you’ve had water, right?” izuku has no problem answering for you. “but nothing to eat,” he whispers, keeping his voice low as if to hide his worry from you— it’s light in his tone but tremors throughout the number one’s body. you feel sick for making him feel that way.

katsuki’s gaze shifts back from his boyfriend to you, his expression unreadable because he knows how you get if they worry too much about you. you’re thankful, partly for that at least, his blank face prevents your mind from reading too deep into things and blaming yourself for things out of your own control.

“‘m makin’ your favourite for dinner. you’ll eat it, no questions asked.” the explosive pro hero states firmly, rising from his place crouched down by your side, obviously not before thumbing over your cheeks to wipe away evidence of your dried tears. “gonna run you a bath too, damn nerd better get you upstairs and ready by the time it’s done.” deku’s chest rumbles with a light hearted chuckle beneath you, lifting the heavy weight of the air within the room— bakugou had always loved brashly, with a fiery intensity that hardly left room for the answer ‘no’, and while izuku was more tame, they balanced one another out in a way that felt more like a warm hug than a battle. they grounded you, in the best of ways.

true to his disgruntled words, your blonde headed boyfriend runs you a hot bath. you don’t miss the addition of lavender oil to the perfectly warm water, the baking soda which you’re sure he only knew to add because his mother had said it would remove the demon spawn toxins in his body. izuku is the one to help you strip, holds your hands as you kick off gross comfort clothes and folds them away, after pressing kisses to your groggy face and chin.

it’s almost funny to see the two biggest and beefiest pro heroes sit on your bathroom floor crossed legged and beside the tub— both of them taking up the majority of the room. you know for a fact that no one would believe the sight unless they saw it, but they’re there. both of them, izuku midoriya and bakugou katsuki are with you encompassed in the silence while you wash away the ugly words that plague your mind and fill the pores of your skin.

they’re still there.

even as sweet lavender water moves in soft waves over your bare body, while black ink moves in the same way across your brain— tattooing self-depreciating thoughts into every inch. you’re not worth their time, they say, you’re wasting it. because how could their precious time be put to good use if you’re taking it up, they could be saving people but instead your boyfriends are here, drowning in your own darkness.

they’re still fucking here.

when they could be out there saving the people who needed it, who were suffering out there in the world outside of your home.

and the suds against your body, the warm water sloshing over your thighs isn’t enough to get rid of the burning sensation of vile phrases printing themselves against your body and clouding every thought that you think. toxic, mean and nasty things you can’t scrub away— none of it is enough to make you feel like you deserve bakugou tenderly lathering you up with the rose scented soap his mother had sent you for christmas or the sips of cool water midoriya brings to your lips in order to prevent you from overheating in the steam of the bathroom.

deku catches the painful twist in your face, pausing his movements to study you. “whaddya need?” you need it to stop, to find something to replace the pain and doubts that fill you.

“water, hotter,” you croak quietly, tears building up in the base of your throat as katsuki catches on and flicks the tap for a stream of hot water to fill the tub. “please,”

they tell you to let them know when to stop if the heat gets too much, but the scalding water burns away any reminders of the self loathing you feel across every inch of your mind, your body and your soul. it stings at the darkness in a way that’s painfully soothing and maybe if you sink under— it could stop hurting completely. if you could slide deeper into the water, would the waves of darkness not crash so hard?

and then the damn breaks, like a tsunami the guilt and anguish you feel crashes over your body and takes control, leaving you fighting for oxygen in the form of your happiness.

everything that you’d been holding back flows freely in salty tears from tired eyes, scorching a path down the apples of your cheeks and mingling with the contents of the tub below. your boys, they don’t notice at first, how you cry and curl in on yourself until you think the world won’t notice you anymore but then just as they always do, they’re pulling you into their warmth and bubble of light— freeing you from black intrusive tendrils even if it means they have to crawl into the tub and wade their through the ocean you’ve made to set yourselves apart.

“don’t—!” you heave with an uneven voice, signs of you falling apart evident in every way. bakugou and deku pull away from you slowly, with dripping shirts and worry written across freckled faces and red eyes. they’re scared for you, hate seeing you force your feelings down and away from them. “please don’t touch me—you’ll—“

the water in the bathtub sloshes from where you retract from their touch, backing yourself up against the wall and away from your boys. “we’ll what?” izuku presses but only gently, keeping you afloat, stopping you from sinking and bakugou stays put in his place, letting the latter talk you down.

you shake your head, trying to think of the right words but it’s hard to, with the crashing waves heavy against your ears. how do you tell your lovers that everything hurts, to think and to feel, to live day by day. you don’t want to bother them with and an extra stress to their busy lives. but you can’t keep it in any longer, bursting at the seams. “you’ll drown. i-if i touch you, i’ll pull you under, you’ll drown with me and you won’t be able to breathe and all those horrible things that i think about will burn in your lungs until you give up fighting like me,” your tears and hiccups interrupt your words, but they listen. bakugou and deku, they listen and they stay.

“yn—“

“because if you do, then all that i feel will be a burden to you— i’ll break in ways that can’t be fixed and you’ll be forced to pick up the pieces and i’ll just be a burden,” you continue, not even pausing to take a breath while you continue to cry. “if you stay to pick up the pieces, you’ll be taken away from people who need you, who are worth saving, and can be helped and—“

you can’t recount how many nights, similar to this in which you wondered why and how two pro heroes could want and love you, why they dealt with your down days that sometimes outnumbered the ups— even if they’d shown you how much they cared, you couldn’t help but feel guilty as if your sadness took up their time to save someone else.

“you can be helped, yn. you don’t have to go what you’re going through alone, you’re worth the time and the effort of helping, no one deserves to suffer,” the green haired of your two boyfriends cuts through the tail ends of your words, still keeping distance until he knows it’s safe to touch you again. there is no look of condescending pity on his face, no sign to show you’ve pulled him into the dark of your mind. it’s just izuku, trying to help you pull through.

you look to katsuki hesitantly, he hasn’t said a word. “but i don’t want to be seen as...as weak, or to worry you because i can’t get out of my own head—“

“y’not fuckin’ weak, we’d never think that of you. we see you try to hide your pain, pretend things don’t get to you when they do. but fuckin’ handlin’ things on ya own can make y’stronger than any two heroes combined,” a look of anger flashes across his features, finer with age and tired with work. but bakugou isn’t angry with you, but with himself for leading you to believe that you were an extra weight on his shoulders. both of their shoulders. “yer not gonna get rid of us or scare us away, we love ya, we’re here for ya ‘n if it’s help that you need or think yer not worthy of, we’ll find some. it’s okay t’ask for help.”

maybe it’s hearing it from someone else, that your pain and your depression is valid, that you’re not an extra weight on the people you love that allows you to come up from a tar-like ocean for fresh air in your lungs, for the waves to calm and the storm raging in your mind to soothe. maybe it’s the two of your boyfriends being there for you despite the fear that you’d scare them away with not being okay that washes away some of the awful things you think.

you know that their support won’t make things go away over night, that it will take time for you to heal but for now you can keep your head above the water just long enough to breathe.

“can i touch you now? is it okay?” deku asks, feeling less distant from you than at the start of the day, but as your body shakes with the last of your tears all you manage is a nod before the number one hero is pulling you into his chest from the tub and the number two is wrapping a towel and his arms around you.

you sit sandwiched between the two, they keep you at the surface— holding you tight while you let out what you’ve been holding back. “we can get some help if y’want it, the doctors...therapy might be nerve wrackin’...scary even, but it can help and we’ll be there every single step of the fuckin’ way,” katsuki reasures you with pets to your head, rocking you back and forth on your bathroom floor, steam clinging to the air that you can finally breathe.

izuku nods along in agreement, pressing kisses to your wet hairline. “we’ll be here. you won’t be alone.”

the murkiness of the water in your mind starts to clear, but only just— their warmth starts to push through the clouds like sunshine brushing against your skin. a light to the dark that's plagued your every waking moment, the waves no longer crash and destroy but instead lap comfortingly at your painful thoughts and tame them just enough for you to have a moment of clarity.

you don’t have to be alone or millions of miles away, you deserve the hands of your loved ones that offer you help instead of pushing them away. the process of healing and things like therapy or meds will be hard sometimes, but katsuki and izuku will be here by your side, to help you manage days where darkness rolls in waves that hurt and help you breathe once again.

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newronantic · 3 years

Text

HAIKYUU!! FICS

so this is mostly gonna be for myself to keep track of my favorite fics i’ve read, but hey if anyone else wants to check some of these out then thats great

MHA one is up!!

ill keep updating this as i read more, feel free to send me suggestions!

KageHina

plain as day - emleewrites

In which Hinata has spent the better part of the last twenty years putting his heart and soul into volleyball, hoping to be recognised, to be noticed. And yet he spends all these years also thinking of himself as rather plain, beyond his lack of height and bright hair, and not really noticeable at all.

In Transit - Mysecretfanmoments

Hinata finds that he likes standing close to Kageyama on buses and trains. It doesn't mean anything--probably. Maybe.

I like the way your clothes smell - Mysecretfanmoments

Power outages, ghost stories, and the presence of a certain orange-haired boy lead to bad decision-making on Tobio's part. He'd planned to keep his crush a secret; the universe has other plans.

Chaotic Neutral - akaraka

Who's this Kageyama person on twitter and is he gay?

1: Anonymous: see title

2: Anonymous: curry king

3: Anonymous >> 1: It's the curry king, obviously. Have you been using his memes this whole time without knowing who he was?

4: Anonymous: 1) Hinata Shouyou's boyfriend 2) See above

jellyfish - mysterytwin

At the beginning of his last year at Karasuno High School, Hinata Shouyou starts a list and calls it THINGS TO DO BEFORE GRADUATION, all with high hopes that he’ll be able to complete it before his time runs out.

TsukkiYama

Try This On For Size - CloudMonsta

A lot changed for Yamaguchi Tadashi over the course of high school. He started trying on dresses, for one.

The Great Yamaguchi-Tsukishima Split (Capitalization Necessary) - WyYeuw

"But no, the current situation isn’t normal. This situation requires the full attention of the team.

No, what’s really concerning this time around, is that Yamaguchi is the one ignoring Tsukishima.”

Yamaguchi confesses. Tsukishima fucks up—like, really fucks up. The volleyball club notices and loses a week’s worth of practice.

IwaOi

Terrarium - sausaged

He's practically a professional at being proactive (lies, lies, and lies when it comes to Iwaizumi).

At this point, is he really happy with just staying best friends forever? Will he be writing journals and collecting rocks forever (he will, he knows, but that is aside from the point)?

Can he really tag his Instagram photos with #YOLO if he doesn't actually put that phrase into practice?

A story about Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime, plants, and rocks.

They Say it Rain Diamonds on Jupiter - exsao

"You're in love with him."

Hajime considers denying it. He considers deliberately choking on his drink to express surprise, to create a distraction by spitting onto the man in front of him's pristine white shirt and causing a commotion. Instead, he swallows his mouthful of soda and heaves a small sigh once his mouth is free.

"Yeah," he says instead.

He's never been good at lying, anyway.

bait and switch - Stylographic_Blue_Rhapsody

Oikawa's university volleyball team knows he's in a long-distance relationship with someone from high school. They imagine a sweet-faced girl that matches his sarcasm with patience. They are so incredibly wrong.

my heart is where it’s always been - foreverautumn

Iwaizumi places his phone down carefully.

Oikawa. Pining after someone. There’s no way.

(Iwaizumi knows he shouldn’t care who Oikawa might have feelings for, but within the span of three days, it’s somehow the only thing he can think about.)

KuroKen

Beautiful People Will Ruin Your Life - todxrxki

Kuroo Tetsurou runs a private Twitter account where he's constantly tweeting about how desperately in love he is with Kozume Kenma. Little does he know that Kenma sees all the tweets and keeps referencing the account in an attempt to get Kuroo to confess to him. / Or, five times Kuroo didn't notice Kenma hinting about his private Twitter account, and one time he finally did.

the things that get caught in the valves of his heart - ghostpot

Emotional competency is not exactly Kuroo's strong suit. Kenma finds it quite amusing.

Accidentally In Love - todxrxki

Kuroo frowns, but then slowly, the corners of his mouth lift up into a smirk. "Well, if it's so unbelievable, why don't we give it a try?"

Kenma glances up at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Let's do the 36 questions to fall in love," Kuroo says, still smirking stupidly. "If we don't fall in love, then you're right, it's bullshit. But if we do somehow..." Kuroo waggles his eyebrows. "Then I win." / Kuroo decides he and Kenma should do the 36 questions to fall in love as a joke, but they both start to realize they might actually be in love already.

the galaxy is endless (i thought we were, too) - cosmogony

TW: major character death

Kuroken AU where the last words your soulmate will say to you appear on your skin when you turn 16, and how Kenma and Kuroo learn what this means over the course of their lives

even if you’re ahead for a bit, i will catch up - ghostpot

Kuroo first confesses when they're sticky-fingered, wide-eyed kids, and subsequently every day after that. Kenma takes a while to come around.

you’re the brake lines failing (as my car swerves off the freeway) - ghostpot

Kenma thinks that Kuroo looks ugly with his head bent against the arm of the couch like that. Then Kenma thinks that he wants to marry him, and is promptly thrown into the 5 stages of grief.

teach me the way home - icespyders

“Don’t go far off, not even for a day, because —

because — I don’t know how to say it: a day is long

and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station

when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.”

Kuroo and Kenma grow up in transit.

in this universe - crossbelladonna

Living with Kuroo is sometimes, just like this. It always feels surreal like he's living half a world and a lot of things rush by too quickly. Kenma feels like he'd watched him come and go in a blink, eyes wide and wordless as the shared space went snug in an instant and far larger in the next.

All this, and a glass of water.

Beginning’s End - todxrxki

Somehow over the course of Kenma's lifetime, he’s never really had an opportunity to miss Kuroo. He’s always been there. Even when they went to different schools, Kuroo would meet him afterwards so they could walk home together, shoulders brushing, Kuroo occasionally taking the opportunity to guide him when his nose was buried in the newest video game. The thought of Kuroo not being there anymore is uncomfortable, to say the least. / Kozume Kenma's third year and the changes the year brings in himself and his relationship with Kuroo Tetsurou.

All I Want for Christmas is You - todxrxki

“Kuro,” he says. “You’re a single guy.”

“Yeah, great, thanks for pointing that out.”

“And my parents already know you, plus they already know you like guys or whatever so… what if you pretended to be my date for Christmas dinner?” / In which Kenma recruits his housemate and best friend Kuroo to be his fake date for Christmas.

BokuAka

just to miss the sun - rosevtea

Everything begins to implode when MSBY Jackals outside hitter Bokuto Koutarou crashes Akaashi's livestream.

Operation BokuAka - kazzydolyn

After spending two whole years watching Bokuto and Akaashi pine for one another, the rest of the Fukuroudani Volleyball Club has had enough. When everyone meets up for a reunion dinner, the team decides to play matchmaker and finally get the two of them together. Unfortunately, their plan starts to fall apart when they discover that Akaashi is already dating someone. And apparently so is Bokuto. What a strange coincidence.

bitter - silvercistern

He accepted his classmate's chocolates gracefully, then declared his lack of interest with as much dignity as he could muster. She deserved the courtesy. At least she'd acknowledged that Valentine's Day was all about her, and not about him in the slightest.

Because if any of these girls had taken the time to actually get to know him, they’d quickly realize something even more important than his lack of interest in girls.

And that was that Akaashi hated sweets.

In Another Life - LittleLuxray

TW: major character death

Sleeping didn't come as easy as it used to. Bokuto knew this, and now Akaashi did, too.

The hospital AU that no body asked for, but that I took upon myself to write.

120% yes - pissedofsandwich

TOKYO FRANCHISE COMING SOON @OnigiriMiya

in reply to @bokkun_official

Congratulations! In celebration of your historic engagement, please DM us so we can send you a free membership code with a 25% discount on every fourth purchase!

Kissing Ace - karasunovolleygays

It happens right after training camp.

Akaashi Keiji has a secret he has guarded since he was a child. He won’t go so far as to call it a fear, but more of an aspect of himself of which he is horribly mortified. No one on the team knows about it, and Akaashi does his best to keep it that way.

But years of dodging hugs and casual contact come to naught in the blink of an eye and the swipe of a hand.

daisy rings and frivolous things (i am deliriously in love with you) - gabstar

Akaashi Keiji is in love. Bokuto Koutarou is a star. Everyone on Fukurodani has a gambling problem.

SakuAtsu

The MSBY Black Jackals Read Thirst Tweets - isaksara (syailendra)

Sakusa’s eyes are very dark naturally, sucking in all surrounding rays of light and crushing them in his pupils. For an athlete, he is rather pale. His lips look very pink in comparison. Atsumu is suddenly catastrophically aware that in this instance, ‘accent’ is a euphemism. “Good enough for your Olympic-size ego, Miya?”

(In which Atsumu realizes that he is attracted to Sakusa Kiyoomi in the most inconvenient way possible.)

A Liar’s Truth - internetpistol

In which Sakusa Kiyoomi is raised to believe that gay people go to hell but then takes one look at Miya Atsumu and thinks, then why the hell did God make them so fucking hot?

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cuttoothed · 3 years

Text

Day 5 of @jonmartinweek for the prompt "scars". Set in a nebulous, post-finale future that may or may not take place in the same universe as the therapy fic.

Warnings: Martin is trans in this, and briefly discusses past gender dysphoria and suicidal ideation. There is also a scene where someone reacts poorly to Jon’s scars, and mention of other such instances (staring, whispering).

The Riverbank Cafe is their usual go-to for lunch; it’s small and cozy, generally quiet, and does truly excellent toasted sandwiches. It’s also not far to walk, which is nice on a day like today, when the air is chilly and damp.

The bell over the door jingles as they enter, and the waitress glances up from where she’s clearing a table. She’s new—or at least, Jon hasn’t seen her before—and looks more than a bit flustered by the modest lunch rush.

“Take a seat anywhere,” she calls, bustling off to help another customer. They find a table near the back and wait; they’re in no hurry. Jon is just warming up enough to take his coat off when she makes her way over to them, menus in hand.

“Sorry about the wait,” she says breathlessly. “It’s my first day.”

“No problem,” says Martin sympathetically. “First days are tough. I remember my first day at my old job, my boss was a right arse.”

Jon rolls his eyes affectionately, and tugs off his gloves and scarf as Martin takes a menu. He reaches for his own menu, and sees the waitress’ eyes widen, darting from the pale knife scar on his neck to the shiny flesh of his right hand. Her expression goes from shock to horror to pity in the space of a second.

“Oh god, what happened?” she blurts out, and then her face goes crimson and she’s looking anywhere but at Jon. “Sorry!” she stutters, “I didn’t mean—god, I’m sorry. I’ll just...I’ll come back in a few minutes.”

She hurries away, almost running, and Jon feels a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. Across from him, Martin looks furious, eyes blazing and jaw set angrily.

“I’m going to talk to the manager,” he says. “That was completely out of line!”

“It’s fine, Martin,” Jon tells him. “She didn’t mean anything.” She’s young—hardly more than a teenager—and she reacted in a perfectly understandable, instinctive way to the sight of not one but two horrible scars. Jon doesn’t want to get her in trouble on her first day,

“It doesn’t matter what she meant—” Martin begins, and then stops when Jon places a hand, the unburned one, over his. He huffs in annoyance.

“Fine,” he says. “Let’s—let’s get lunch to go though, okay? I’m not sure I can hold my tongue if we stay.”

“Okay,” Jon agrees; he’s lost his appetite anyway.

Jon isn’t vain. He knows how the scars look, and mostly, it doesn’t bother him. They don’t matter to anyone who matters to him; Martin loves him scars and all, and the friends he’s made here have never drawn attention to them or asked him to explain.

He sees people staring at them sometimes; especially children, who are too young to be polite about it. He’s heard the occasional “What’s wrong with that man?” and the whispered admonitions from parents or guardians to not be rude. For the most part, though, he can almost forget they exist, except in cold weather when his hand stiffens up, or when the deep muscle scars in his leg start aching, and he has to use his cane for a few days.

But inevitably, something always happens like today, and he’s forcefully reminded of them. Of the fact that he is wounded, damaged; of the other wounds that can’t be seen, that he and Martin both bear.

It’s not fair to Martin, either, having to put up with strangers staring or whispering when he’s with Jon. The constant, visible reminders of everything they’ve been through. Jon sees the way his expression goes hurt and closed off sometimes, when he sees the scar he gave Jon, and Jon wishes there was some way he could spare him the pain.

Jon will admit that the cafe incident throws him off kilter for the rest of the day. He doesn’t think he’s been obvious about it, however, until they’re getting ready for bed that night; he catches sight of his bare torso in the bedroom mirror, and flinches, and Martin frowns in a way that says they’re about to have a serious conversation.

“Are you all right?” he asks. Jon blinks at him, trying to look uncomprehending.

“Absolutely fine,” he says; Martin looks at him skeptically, and he relents. “I’ve been...a bit preoccupied, I suppose?”

“Moody,” Martin corrects, and Jon shrugs. Maybe.

“It’s nothing, really.”

“Is it because of what happened at lunch?”

“It’s fine, Martin,” Jon tells him. Martin raises an eloquent eyebrow, which says louder than words: I don’t believe you. Jon knows from experience that Martin won’t relent until they talk about what’s wrong; a lesson learned from therapy, and yes, it’s the correct and healthy thing to do, but sometimes Jon would like to just stew in his feelings by himself a bit, thank you very much.

He sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “These—it can’t be nice, having a constant visual reminder of—of everything that happened.”

“Why are you apologizing to me?” Martin looks confused. “Those things—or, well, most of them, they happened to you, Jon. You’re the one who was hurt—who was deliberately put in harm’s way.”

“Yes, well, at least I don’t have to look at myself.”

Jon can’t keep the bitter note out of his voice, and there’s a taste like bile in the back of his throat. Martin is staring at him now, wide eyed. He sits down heavily on the bed and pats the space next to him. When Jon doesn’t move, he pats it again.

“Come here,” he says. “Please, Jon.”

Jon sits beside him, folding his arms defensively. He doesn’t want to hear reassurances now: that the scars don’t matter, that Martin loves him regardless. Even if it’s true, it doesn’t take away from their ugliness, from what they represent.

Martin doesn’t say anything immediately. Instead, he reaches down and pulls his t-shirt off over his head, leaving him in just his pajama bottoms. Jon’s eyes are drawn as always to the freckles on his shoulders, the wiry, ginger hair on his chest and belly, the softness and the strength of him. Martin takes Jon’s hand—the burned one—in his, and presses it to the pale, silvery scar on the right side of his belly.

“When you see this scar, does it remind you of the fact that my appendix burst when I was twelve and I almost died?”

“N-no,” says Jon. Martin’s told him the story, of course, but it’s an old scar, long since faded; the part Jon remembers most is Martin grinning with delight, telling him how the nurses in the hospital sneaked him extra ice cream while he was recovering.

“What about these?” Martin asks, moving Jon's hand up to his chest, to the faded t-anchor scars. “Do they make you think of how my dysphoria used to be so bad I wanted to die?”

“No—of course not!” Jon’s heart aches, and he clutches at Martin’s hand. Martin smiles.

“Good, because they shouldn’t. These scars mean I survived—I got the treatment I needed, and my life got better. I found you.”

“Martin,” Jon starts to say, but Martin shakes his head.

“I know it’s not the same. What was done to you, it was...horrifying. Monstrous. But it comes down to the same thing, Jon. Our scars might not be pretty, but they mean that we survived. You survived, and you’re here with me.” He tugs Jon’s hand up and presses a fierce kiss to the shiny, scarred skin across his knuckles. “I love them for that.”

Jon feels a lump rising in his throat, his vision blurring with tears. He wraps his arms around Martin and pulls him close, buries his face against Martin’s warm, solid shoulder. Martin’s hands pet soothingly over his back and sides, don’t flinch from the knot of scar tissue below Jon’s rib cage where the knife drove in, in those last, desperate moments.

“I love you,” he mumbles, his voice thick with emotion. It’s the only thing he can think to say. The only thing that really matters.

“I love you,” says Martin, and they stay like that for a while, skin to scarred skin.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartinweek2021 #my fic #jonmartin

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yamujiburo · 3 years

Text

Jessie and Cassidy reconciliation fanfic thing

I was going through my notes app just now to just clear out some junk and I found something I'd written like a year ago and totally forgot about hahhaha. I don't usually do fanfics but I guess I was in a writing mood that night. I can't remember why I stopped. I either got stuck, didn't know how I wanted it to end or was just having a hard time figuring out like,,,, the arcs and what I wanted the main focus of the story to be. Anyhow, here it is if you wanna read the set up I made for it haha

Jessie, James and Meowth have once again failed to complete a mission and Matori is TIRED of it. She brings it up go Giovanni who tells her not to worry about them. Matori can’t figure out why Giovanni puts up with them and starts digging on possible reasons why Giovanni would keep them around. She decides to go to HR to find answers. There, she meets Wendy.

“Ah– Matori!”

“Pull up records for Jessie, James and–“, Matori notices that Wendy already has Jessie’s files pulled up and gives her a strange look.

“I see you’re already doing your research on Miss Jessie…”

“N-no! Well, yes. It’s just that Jessie has continuously failed almost all missions she’s been assigned! Not to mention she’s singlehandedly almost made the organization go broke. Well, not really but she still owes a lot of money!”

“And the other two?”

“Huh? Oh yeah them, too I guess.”

“I just don’t understand what Giovanni could possible see in them. They’re not good for Team Rocket.”

“Tell me about it, I’ve been trying to get the boss to fire them for years. But he’s got a real soft spot for them apparently. Tch, to think they were the top of their class once.”

“Hmph, I find that hard to believe.”

“I can’t speak for James and Meowth, but Jessie really was a promising recruit. So much so that when she threatened to quit, she somehow manipulated every exec into fulfilling her demands.”

“Threatened to quit?” The gears in Matori’s head began to turn. Sure Giovanni wouldn’t fire the trio, but if they were to quit, there would be nothing he could do.

“Yeah, she had a falling out with her first partner. And instead of being PROFESSIONAL she wined until she got a new one. Then she proceeded to go through like 10 more partners until James came along. If you’ve ever talked to her I’m sure you can tell she’s not the easiest person to work with.”

“Hm. Perhaps it’s time to switch up some teams.”

“C-can you do that? Is that allowed?”

“I could pull some strings.”

“Isn’t that sabotage?” Wendy asks. Matori shoots her a look.

“Call it what you want, but it’s my job to make sure this organization is successful as possible. Getting rid of some problem lackeys will only benefit Team Rocket. If Giovanni won’t do anything about them, then I will.”

“Matori. You are my hero”

“Are there any potential candidates we could temporarily team them up with? Or members they’ve been known to… not get along with?”

A big, Gengar-like smile creeps on Wendy’s face. “I know just the agents.”

_____________________________________________________________

Early in the morning in Jessie and James’ base, they get a call from Matori. Jessie is already annoyed, knowing who’s calling, but she wakes up her team members just in case it was Giovanni.

“A little early don’t you think, Matori?” Matori composes herself and ignores Jessie’s jab.

“Giovanni hasn’t arrived yet, but I have very important news.” Jessie, James and Meowth’s interests are piqued. “Your success rates have been… less than exemplary. But, you have previously shown you are exceptional agents.”

Jessie is taken aback by the, sort of, compliment from Matori. “So what’s the issue?”

“We have reason to believe that, while neither of you are individually the reason for your constant failures, you are incompatible as a team and you are going to be reassigned to different partners, effective immediately.”

James and Meowth look at each other shocked, and the thoughts going through their head were interrupted by their soon to be, not-leader. “WHAT?! You can’t split us up! We–“

“I apologize for the inconvenience. But this is for the benefit of Team Rocket. I do not have time to argue this. It has already been decided and your new partners have been decided. James, you are to return to headquarters where you will meet your new partner and Jessie, you will remain where you are and your new partner will arrive tomorrow.”

“What about, Me-owth?”

Matori pauses. She hadn’t thought about the cat. “You can decide who you wish to go with. Thank you for your time. Best of luck with your new arrangements.”

Matori hangs up. Jessie, James and Meowth stand staring at the screen, solemn. What doe they do now? Years of working together over, just like that.

“UGH THAT LITTLE FOUR EYED BOWL CUT HAIRED FREAK! I’m gonna do something about this! They can’t do this to us!” James gently puts his had on Jessie’s shoulder.

“There’s nothing we can do,”

James packs up, Meowth has decided to go with James. They say their goodbyes. James and Meowth grab the rest of their things and leave. Jessie is left alone with her thoughts.

_____________________________________________________________

Back at headquarters, we see James and Meowth being led by Matori to her office where she says his new partner is waiting. She talks about how this member is in a very similar situation. They walk in and see short, green hair. “BUTCH???”

“Oh no not you guys!”

“If you’re my new partner, that must mean…”

“Oh no,” they all say in unison.

_____________________________________________________________

Jessie still lying in the same place on her bed. Why was she feeling this way? She’d been through so many parters before. Sure she’d been with James and Meowth longer, but she wasn’t one to get attached. Well, not anymore. In the middle of her thought, she hears the elevator to the base coming down. She gets up and makes herself as presentable as possible (over shirt is off, makeup kinda smeared, boots off). Before she can get her shit together, a pair of white boots click, clack in. Jessie looks up, and the flash of orange, blonde seared her eyes.

“CASSIDY?!”

“JESSIE?!”

“No, no, no there has to be some sort of mistake. I can’t be teamed up with you! I hate you!”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“I can’t believe I going to have to work with your ugly ass every day.”

“You’re one to talk. Have you looked in the mirror lately?” Jessie turned to the standup mirror leaning against the wall. She was definitely not looking her best.

“You caught me at a bad time!”

“You sure? I recall you always looking this ratty. I guess it has been a while since I’ve seen you, thank goodness," Cassidy said smugly. Jessie was already pissed off.

“We’re calling Matori RIGHT NOW to fix this.”

“Gee, while you’re looking like that?”

“I DON’T WANNA HEAR IT.” Jessie picked up the communicator, which brandished a large R on the wall. Matori picked up.

“Good afternoon Jessie, are you aware that you’re not in uniform?”

“Cut the crap you clod! You set me up with Cassidy on purpose!”

“Ah I see you’ve met your new partner! Hello, Cassidy.”

“Matori,” Cassidy said with a small bow. Of course Cassidy was trying to stay composed. Just another way to try one-up Jessie.

“We can NOT work together. I demand you put me back on my old team!”

“While I’m not one to disagree with higher ups, Miss Matori, I unfortunately have to side with Jessie on this one. You might not be aware but Jessie and I were partners once in our training days. We simply are not compatible,” Cassidy explained as politely as possible.

“Was there a reason for this, incompatibility? I was looking through your records and it appeared that you two were quite the team back in the day. I had assumed that the executives just wanted two top agents to be on other teams with some less skilled trainees.” Both Cassidy and Jessie blushed.

It was true that Jessie and Cassidy were at the top of their class for quite some time. But the reasons for them being split up were quite… personal.

“Listen, we just can’t work together. Try getting that through that helmet head of yours.”

_____________________________________________________________

~aaaaand this is where i got to~

Anyone wanna finish this for me? /j

I can't remember where I wanted this to go. I think I was gonna have Jessie and Cassidy try to suck it up and work together so they don't lose their jobs. They fight Ash and Goh, trying to get Pikachu as usual and quickly fail because of their bickering. They eventually have a heart to heart, wondering where they went wrong back when they were a team. They say a lot of things that they'd failed to communicate in the past and reconcile.

THEN this is where I kinda got stuck on what I wanted the focus/them to me. There was a version in my head where after they reconcile they like,,, make out and start falling in love again (for those new here, I firmly believe Jessie and Cassidy are bitter exes and had a falling out during their training days). After this their chemistry and communication improve immensely resulting in them succeeding to catch Pikachu. Matori comes to retrieve it but Ash and Goh get it back while it's in Matori's hands (making it her failure). And then I wasn't sure how to end this version. Maybe things going back to normal after Giovanni finds out that Jessie and Cassidy are dating and deems it unprofessional. Jessie, James and Meowth are reunited and Cassidy and Butch are as well. Happy ending were things are as they were but now Cassidy and Jessie are on good terms and still together maybe???

The oooother version was centering the story more around Jessie and her inability to keep her partners/not appreciating them. If I went with this I think I'd start off the story differently with her being a dick to James and Meowth (which she is a lot of the time but this time she crosses a line). After the team switch she finds that she really had been taking her teammates for granted. I think Cassidy and Jessie still have that heart to heart but then it's more about how Jessie hurt Cassidy and Jessie kinda realizes that she's still making the same errors currently. They reconcile buuut the both of them still want their old partners back so they hatch a plan to successfully steal Pikachu but ensure that Ash gets it back when it's in Matori's hands. They request that they be paired up with their old teammates and in exchange, wouldn't tell Giovanni that Matori messed up. Everything goes back to normal the end.

I had too many jumbled ideas and because I don't have the attention span to write for more than a couple hours I just dropped this LOL. Just thought I'd share in case anyone found this remotely interesting or entertaining hehe

#long post #yamushipping

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ethan-torchio-angelo · 3 years

Text

Isn't It Lovely

Summary: two girls in a town where if anyone knew of their feelings towards each other, they'd be locked away

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: sadness, angst, a love that feels illegal, a few swear words

A/N: so I was in my feels. You're welcome for this sad little bit

2 a.m.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

The words tumble from her mouth before she can even think to stop them. When she gets no reply she fears she’s messed up, ruined the night like she’s done so many times before. A hand touches her cheek, her head moving to face the girl laying beside her, and she’s met with a warm smile that calms all of her nerves.

“My mind constantly races with thoughts of you.”

It’s whispered so quietly, afraid the loudness of a confession like that could break their peaceful bubble right apart. There is a fire that burns in both their veins, fueled by words unspoken, words that feel illegal to even think. They can’t say what they really want to. In this small little corner of the world, the words I love you seem like a death sentence if anyone hears them coming from the two girls. So it stays between them and the three boys that are more their family than anyone else.

They’re laying on the roof of Victoria's trailer, it is dark and quiet, the stars being their only company. There’s a bottle of Damianos moonshine and a pack of cigarettes stolen from the corner shop being split between them. The closest thing they can get to a real date.

“One day, we’ll leave this place behind. I’ll take you to the ocean and we’ll get married, right then and there. And the best part is, no one can stop us.”

Victoria is always the optimistic one, always telling her of the things that seem impossible. “What about the boys? Lord knows they’d be lost without us.”

She sits up to face the girl, a goofy grin on her face, “Well, they’ll come with us of course! We’ll need someone to protect us from the scary sea monsters.”

She laughs, sitting up now too, and takes a swig of the bitter alcohol. She loves how Vic talks about the life they could have. It’s nice to dream, she thinks.

The wind picks up suddenly, a cold breeze floating through the space around them, and they’re reminded of the quickly changing seasons. Victoria shivers and she’s quick to wrap the girl beside her in one of the blankets. The summer had been short and autumn was quickly approaching, a reminder that this could be the last few hours they’d have together.

Victoria had gotten accepted to Julliard on a full scholarship, something she’d applied to on a whim with no real hopes of getting in. She’d be gone in the morning, off to live the dream she’d always wanted. While the other girl still had no idea of what she wanted from life, no connections anywhere, she’d most likely be stuck here working at the corner shop for the rest of her life.

Victoria huddled into the warmth of the blanket and took a long drag from one of the cigarettes. She could feel eyes on her, turning her head to look at the girl beside her, “What’re you staring at, pretty girl?”

The girl blushes, caught in the act of trying to commit her face to memory. “You. Trying to make sure I never forget what you look like.”

Victoria sighs, “I don’t have to leave, ya know. I could stay here, with you and the boys. We could be trailer park trash together.”

“No. You’re going to go off to New York and live the life you’ve been dreaming of, don’t worry about me.”

She takes another swig of the burning liquid, trying to drink away her sorrows. They’ve talked about it before, Vic staying here, but she’s always refused the offer. She knows it’d make her miserable and she can’t bear to be the reason why her love is sad.

“Then come with me. We could get a little apartment, you can find a job while I’m at school. We could be free.”

She’s got a line of tears pooling in her eyes, a flush covering her cheeks, and the alcohol is running rampid in her veins. She can’t help but hope, wanting nothing more than to have the one thing she knows she can’t.

“I can’t come with you Vic, you know that. I’ve got nothing going for me, I’d only keep you from doing what you want. I can’t do that to you, it’d break my heart.”

Another sigh leaves the girl. She dreams too much, she knows that, but is it so awful to want to be happy? “Do you love me?”

It’s a question that strikes her right in the heart. “You know I do.”

“No, I don’t. You’ve never said it, and you only act like you do when we’re alone. I’m the one who always says it, but I’ve never heard those words leave your lips.”

There’s a fire burning through her. She wishes she could blame it on the alcohol, but the question has been haunting her for weeks now, it was just a matter of time before they were brought to light.

“You know what it would mean if anyone heard us say it.”

Vic stands up abruptly, throwing the blanket from her body and pacing the length of the rooftop. “I don’t give a damn about anything but you! I love you, and I don’t care who knows it! They can burn me at the stake for all I care, I just want you.”

There are tears running down her cheeks now and she feels like her body is on fire. Her next words are barely above a whisper, but the girl hears them loud and clear, “I’ve only ever wanted you.”

She stands and walks over to Vic, reaching out to grab her, pulling her into her arms. She rubs circles into her back as she freely cries. Victoria gasps for air, feeling like she’s drowning. “Am I not enough for you? Am I not good enough?”

“No, no. That’s not it,” She takes a deep breath before pulling away to look into her eyes, “I love you. There’s no doubt about it.”

“Then what is it? Why does everything have to be a struggle with you? I feel like I’m trying to convince you of something I’m not even sure is worth fighting for anymore.”

She’s taken aback by the confession. “You don’t mean that Vic.”

“Maybe I do. Clearly you don’t know me that well if you don’t think I’d give up everything to be with you!”

She’s shouting and pacing again, and she knows someone could hear her, but she doesn’t care. She’d climb the tallest building and declare her love for the girl if it meant she could convince her. “Is it really so horrible to think that we could get away from all of this and be together?”

“You know we can’t.”

She stops her pacing, turning to stare at the other girl. “You’re the only one saying that. There is nothing keeping you here, nothing. But yet you keep saying you can’t leave. What is so important that it’s keeping you from being happy?”

Everything falls silent, and moments pass before she can bring herself to speak. She starts crying and it takes everything in her to speak her next words, “I’m pregnant.”

The words hang in the air like a knife over their heads. Victoria feels like all of the air has been sucked from her lungs. “How? Who?”

“At the graduation party Thomas threw. We’d been fighting, and I saw you hanging with another girl and I got jealous. I needed something to distract me so I got drunk and when he kissed me I didn’t even think of pushing him away. I don’t even remember his name, I don’t think he even told me. I regretted it the second it was over. We used a condom and I took plan b, but it clearly didn’t work. I found out last week, Dami drove me into the city. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

It is silent for what feels like hours. The wind whips around them, a storm forming overhead. They stand facing each other, staring into the other's eyes.

It’s Victoria who breaks the silence, a laugh escaping her lips. It is loud and ugly, strained by the tears still falling from her eyes. It’s not the time to laugh, but she can’t help it. “I hate you. Not because you’re pregnant, because if you had just told me we could have gone through this together. But because you’re choosing to subject it to the same life we were so desperate to escape. You could leave with me and we could raise that kid in a life far better than either of us had, but you’re a coward.”

The words feel like venom on her tongue. She can see the hurt cross the girl's face, a feeling of guilt settling in her gut, but she can’t take the words back now.

“Maybe I am. But that is my choice to make.”

Victoria turns away, heading to the ladder, whispering words that hurt them both, “Then It is your choice to make alone.”

Sometimes the hardest thing in life is loving someone and letting them go.

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willowbleedsonpaper · 3 years

Text

Winter In The Shade IX

Part IX

Sirius Black x Ravenclaw Reader

W.C. : 2251

Requested by @amourtentiaa : It is Sirius’ fifth year at Hogwarts, the same year he ran away from home and to the Potter’s. Soon, he discovers the unfamiliar sight of his brother Regulus smiling and looking truly happy, next to him a Ravenclaw girl who immediately captures his interest. What will happen when the Black family gets involved in their sons lives and the ones they hold close to their hearts?

Warnings: Food. A little violence (Someone gets slapped in the head) :)

Want to know when I post the next part? Add yourself to my taglist!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The marauders didn’t stay at the Great Hall for long, running out of the large room as soon as the shouting coming from Professor Mcgonagall was heard from the front of the room; grins were drawn on all four faces as soon as her stern voice broke over the magic of their little Christmas show, leaving them frozen with excitement at the thought of another run to avoid the anger of Minerva Mcgonagall.

They all stared down at the source of her voice before breaking out of the first shock, the four marauders slipping on the same snow they had conjured to catch themselves a second later and making a run for the door. Their laughs echoed the stone walls of the Castle, their rapid footsteps leaving nothing behind but pure excitement as everyone witnessed Professor Mcgonagall marching after them with the most stern calm anyone had ever seen.

Although, you were sure your eyes didn’t come up with the small smile tugging at her lips.

“They’re amazing.” Félix murmured in amazement, his eyes gleaming as he looked at you.

You chuckled lightly, ruffling his hair as you let the smile on your lips completely settle on your face. “They are something else, I´ll give you that.” Your eyes wandered at the door, Sirius’ form disappearing from your sight just seconds ago as his words still played inside your head. The exchange had been so short and yet it felt like it dragged for hours, you were sure your own head was already adding to the memory to make it look like something that never happened, changing the entire interaction to something you might read in one of your favorite novels.

By the second time you replayed the memory in your head, it had already become something completely different from what reality had served you. Or has it?

You wanted to think, believe, that whatever Sirius was becoming in your life, that whatever role he was playing in your story, it was just something random. But deep down you knew it felt different. He wasn’t just another person you would meet in your time at Hogwarts, he felt more important. You alone were giving him more importance just by thinking of him, by wondering. Because you knew that no one asks questions to then say they don’t care.

*******

Sirius almost slipped three times on their way to safety from Professor Mcgonagall. One while trying to run over the melting snow in the Great Hall, the second one as he ran straight into Moony’s back as he was being too careful not to step on the plates and goblets of the Great Hall, and the third one as he stole one last glance in your direction.

You weren’t supposed to be there.

Not that he complained. You were the Christmas present that he never expected, sitting there with that little boy that always seemed to be at your side.

He hoped no one noticed the way his act dropped as soon he set his gaze on you, the way he felt his grin morph into a soft smile, the way his shoulders fell from their confident stand, the way his steps slowed until he was standing in front of you, how his voice came in a light whisper and not his usual loudness. But then again he didn’t really care if they noticed. In fact, he wished they saw it all, that they took notes and photographs to remember the look on Sirius Black when he unexpectedly set eyes on you.

The raw look of love.

He had been scared at first. Love. Love, love, love. But after many nights in panic, many interventions from his friends who seemed to enjoy this confusion from him more than actually helping him figure out this foreign weight in his chest, he realized it was what it was. He loved you and it terrified him. He was mainly concerned at the speed in which it had happened, he thought love took time. Maybe it did for some. Not for him, not with you.

A hand around his arm snatched him out of his head and away from the hallway, the shushing sound of his friends as they all tried to stifle their laughter bringing him back to the present.

Mcgonagall stood right in front of them, turning in all directions with a look of disbelief in her eyes.

Sirius held his breath, seeing the small smile appearing over her lips as she let out a sigh, lowering her head with the softest shake. “Those boys,” she murmured, rolling her shoulders back and taking her straight posture again as she started to walk, whatever words she said carried away with her.

They waited a few seconds, making sure they were in no danger. James threw his arms over their heads, taking his cloak from them as he put the soft fabric away. “Well, I’ll call that a success,” he said cheerfully.

“More than a success.” said Peter, turning to Sirius “I didn’t know Y/N would be here.”

“Me neither.” he admitted, starting to walk with the others.

“I thought you said she left this morning,” James laughed, turning in his place to walk backwards “Follow her and all.” He said still buzzing with excitement, the boy looked ready to run around the Castle grounds five times and return back with energy to spare.

Sirius elbowed his best friend on the side “I wasn’t following her.” he stated “She just happens to be with my brother all the time.” he mumbled, the bitterness in his voice not going unnoticed.

“We know, we know.” James said, throwing his hands in the air “Still... she is here.” he said, stopping in his tracks as everything in his body changed.

“That is clear.” said Sirius, missing the look James gave his friends as they all stopped and turned their heads “But-”

“Pads.” Remus muttered “She is here.” he whispered harshly, eyes locked behind him.

“I know.” Sirius hissed, looking oddly at his friends “I saw her at the Great H-”

Peter scoffed, taking Sirius by his shoulders and turning him on his place, his eyes locking on your form nearing them, breathlessly stopping in front of them. They all stood frozen, as if you were another professor hunting them down for their little show just minutes ago.

You let out a breath, resting your hands on your knees for a moment before you look up at them “Hi.” you whispered with a smile.

James was the first one to react, the shock of seeing you there long gone as he smiled back “Hello.”

A long silence fell between all of you, James snapping out of his shock not being enough as they all remained silent. You stared at them for a second, inspecting each of them for a moment before you glanced over your shoulder expecting to see something threatening. The hall was empty.

“Are you all alright?” you asked in concern.

“Just perfect.” chuckled Peter, a tight smile on his lips as he turned to Sirius, seeing the panic in his eyes. “Right, uh- Wh-what are you doing here?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” James smiled “You’ve met her, she studies here.”

Peter turned to him with a look of disbelief.

Remus shut his eyes closed and let out a heavy sigh.

You rolled your eyes, suppressing a smile as you turned to your side while avoiding your eyes from wandering to the one person you wanted to look at.

Sirius was already looking at you, his eyes drifting momentarily to James as he laughed, bumping fists with him in what he hoped was a discreet manner.

“Actually,” you said, gathering their attention “I was hoping to ask you,” you pointed at Sirius “That same question.”

“If I study here?” he asked with a fake pout “Here I thought you remembered our time together fondly.”

Your eyes widen “The four of you are impossible.” you mumbled.

“It’s a talent.” James said with a shrug.

“The secret to our success, really.” Peter added.

“Besides our good looks.” Sirius said.

“And one brain.” Remus mumbled from beside you, his tall frame leaning on the wall beside you as he rubbed his temple.

“That too.” Sirius conceded.

Your mouth hung slightly agape, staring at the four of them and wondering how they worked together so smoothly. Only Merlin knew.

Shaking your head you locked eyes with Sirius, although nervously and with your stomach doing flips inside you, you managed to maintain a somewhat confident stare “What are you doing here?” you asked him, silently thanking Remus in your head as he gathered Peter and James and dragged them away from you.

“I could ask you the same,” he told you “I thought you said you were going home for the Holidays.” he raised an eyebrow, his intense gaze making you feel little but never making you falter.

“I never said that.” you stated, lifting your chin as you crossed your arms.

He mimicked your stance, making it a little hard to take him seriously with the ugly sweater he wore but the look on his face told another story, no matter what he wore he had an air to him, a familiar one, confident and powerful “Neither did I. Guess we need to work on our communication.”

You scoffed, glancing away for a second “Right.” you returned your eyes to him, pursing your lips and wavering in whether you should muster your next words “I thought Christmas was important for your mom. Regulus said…”

“Regulus and I have different ideals.” he said sharply, making you back away slightly, frowning at him. “I’m sure he has told you.”

“No. He hasn’t.” you said, confused at his sudden change, making you stand straighter “That’s what I came here to ask you, not that it matters.” you turned your head, looking over the heads of his friends and motioning your hand in the air, muttering “It’s really none of my business.”

Right on cue, Félix emerged from the end of the hall and ran to your side “Now?” he asked excitedly and you nodded.

Turning away from Sirius you walked behind Félix and towards James, Remus and Peter.

Félix was the sweetest boy, having lots of cookies you helped him bake the previous night, he had asked you to help him find Remus and his friends to give them some of the cookies. But now, as you stood before them their voices turned off and the weight in your heart became more prominent. What did he mean by different ideals?

You were more than aware of his presence behind you, standing like a shadow behind your back. Both Regulus and Sirius had snapped at the mention of the other, then why did Sirius’ reaction sting more?

Félix had paid little mind to the rest of the Marauders, giving them cookies and smiles as he hovered over Remus, asking him thousands of questions and barely stopping his talking. You saw Sirius’s hand as he took the gift from Félix, but you kept your eyes on the small boy in front of you, avoiding the pair of grey eyes and his gaze on you.

“A-and how did you manage that spell?!” Félix asked “I’ve tried it before, froze my hand and one of Y/N’s books. Sorry about that,” he paused briefly, looking at you before he returned his attention to Remus.

“That is a very advanced spell.” Remus told him, giving you a smile as he looked back at him with the same excitement “Are you sure you should be trying those spells on your own?”

“Y/N helps me and I help her with Herbology.” he told him smugly.

You made a sound as you reached for Félix, grabbing him and covering his mouth “And that is enough from you.” you said, his eyes confused as he fought your hand “Thank you for listening to the little beast,” you told them, starting to back away from them “I promise the cookies are safe to eat.” you said, dragging Félix with you as they all watched the two of you in amusement “Merry Christmas!” you yelled, giving all but one of them a smile before you disappeared from their sight.

Automatically, they all walked to stand next to each other, staring at the spot where you stood.

James pursed his lips, nodding slightly before he turned to his right, his hand in the air as he slapped the back of Sirius’s head.

Sirius shrinked himself, lifting his arms in protection “What was that for?!” he asked, rubbing the back of his head.

Remus and Peter stared judgingly at him, hoping for the realization to hit Sirius but he was just too oblivious.

James put on his most serious face and adapted to a strange pose in him “Regulus and I have different ideals.” he mocked, his face changing back to one of disbelief as he raised his hand again but restrained from hitting his friend, letting his hand fall to his face “Scare her away more, would you? I think she didn’t get it, let me go get her so you can ruin everything!” he finished exasperatedly.

Sirius's head snapped to the way you went, his eyes wide as it finally dawned on him. The way you avoided his eyes, how you backed away from him, your more tense stance, the lack of smile in his direction when you left.

“I did ruin it, didn't I?”

TAGS If your name is like this it means I could not tag you :(

Skittles

@iwritesiriusly / @trinimalfoyyy / @megaprincesscakes / @lunalovegoodsgirlfriend / @amourtentiaa / @zaidlyn / @aconfusedslytherin / @abbott27 / @aconfusedslytherin / @the-lonely-poet-loves-to-weep / @dreamcxtcherr / @angelsandsorcery

Winter in the Shade

@plethoraofpuppies / @dracoissohot / @funravenclaw2002 / @nehireerdogan / @ktyflwr / @lilyevanswhore / @edithsvoice / @medalloway-blog / @falconxbarnes / @blackst0nes7077 / @gabitanaka47 / @padsfirewhisky / @lazzwhile / @lilylikethefl0wer / @crazy-beautiful / @blackenergy / @ninawhatfandom / @justchecking-mayheadback / @just-wordsandthoughts / @simpforslytherins / @letmeinplease22 / @auggie2000 /

Marauders

@destourtereaux

#winter in the shade #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x ravenclaw!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x reader #marauders era fanfiction

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koshicoast · 3 years

Text

A few shinkami headcannons because I love them more than anything

Shinsou has a growth spurt and practically towers over Denki by their second year (for all intents and purposes, Shinsou has always been in class 1A)

Denki grows a little bit but not that much, he’s not complaining though, he gets Shinsou to grab stuff on the top shelve for him or has him hang up posters in higher places in his room (the only downside is that he has to get on his tippy toes for kisses but usually Shinsou will just bend down like a good boyfriend)

They go on dates every Sunday, It’s their day and it doesn’t matter what they’re doing as long as it’s just the two of them

They could be studying or doing homework or exercising or anything really and they’ll call it a date

The rest of the class knows better than to try and contact either boy on Sunday

“Normies worship Jesus on Sunday but I worship Shinsou” - Denki, at one point in time

Shinsou loves playing with denki’s hair, he buys different kinds of hair clips just to put them in denki’s hair

he just likes how the colors pop out

He especially likes to see purple hair clips in denki’s hair

Tbh it doesn’t have to be hair clips, it could be a scrunchie or a rubber band or a headband; as long as it’s purple it does wonders to shinsou’s heart

Denki likes playing with shinsou’s hair too but more than that he likes seeing Shinsou in yellow clothing

Shinsou doesn’t wear bright colors a lot usually sticking with black or cool tone colors

But when he does wear yellow, Denki just gets all mushy no matter how small it is

It could be yellow earrings or socks or something and Denki will wear a love sick expression all day

Despite being in the hero course, Shinsou still gets incredibly insecure about his quirk and how some people only see him as a villain

Denki, without fail or hesitation, tells Shinsou what a great hero he’s gonna be, he talks about how Shinsou is gonna inspire a new wave of underground heroes and how he’s gonna be some kid’s Aizawa one day and how proud he is of him (The first time he said that, it makes Shinsou sob. It makes denki cry too bc he’s a sympathetic crier so they just lay in bed holding eachother)

He also tells Shinsou how no matter who’s the number one hero, Shinsou will always have first place in his heart. And that Shinsou is just as much as any other hero out there and even a little more because he’ll be underground

Denki just loves his boyfriend so much and whoever planted the idea that some quirks are just made for evil is going to get electrocuted >:(

Denki will also pepper Shinsou in kisses saying things like ‘you are so kind’ ‘you’re an amazing person’ ‘I love you so much’ ‘You’re my hero’ and just a bunch of stuff so by the end of their heart to heart Shinsou is feeling a lot better

Denki gets insecure about how ‘dumb’ he is and how he’ll probably just end up hurting civilians or himself before he hurts a villain

Shinsou hates how that’s how Denki views himself because Denki is one of the kindest people in the world and doesn’t even realize it like the first time Denki told him that insecurity, Shinsou looked at him and was like ‘are you..you’re serious? Denks, You’re one of the most clever people I know’

Whenever Denki mentions it, Shinsou he just squeezes the blonde and lets him cry out his frustrations before telling him that ‘he’s not an idiot or stupid and that it’s okay not to understand something as fast as others and that it’s okay to learn differently and it’s okay’ (Shinsou will always try not to cry but a few tears fall anyways bc he just wants denks to be happy without feeling like he’s a fuckup)

Shinsou never lets Denki call himself an idiot or stupid, even in a joking way.

They don’t fight a lot because of their personalities like

Denki is a people’s person and is really in tune with other’s emotions and by default is a pacifist unless otherwise

Shinsou isn’t a people’s person but he’s observant due to his quirk bc of how he’s been treated in the past, he’s also good at picking up on people’s body language

Most times it’s just small disagreements and even then they communicate the best they can and try to compromise

If that doesn’t work then they’ll give each other space so the disagreement won’t turn into something ugly

They’ve only fought once and it was the worst (and best) thing for them

The fight happened after a mock rescue mission goes wrong and there were weeks of stress and tension leading up to it

It was messy and bad like really bad

“I just don’t get why you have to run into danger!” Denki screamed. The whole dorm could probably hear them but he didn’t care, not when his boyfriend was looking at him like he just lost his mind.

It was supposed to be a simple training exercise. Simple. Go in, defeat villains, rescue the ‘hostages’. It was not that simple.

*insert how badly the mission went and Shinsou ran towards the danger to help or smth idk*

It gets pretty rough between the two of them because they’re both pretty emotional people

Shinsou thinks denki doesn’t want him to be a hero and denki thinks Shinsou doesn’t want to be with him

It’s a lot of insecurities + stress + yelling

Denki is the first one to break, he’s a lot more emotionally sensitive than Toshi and everything is just crashing down and he hates it

“Do you just not want to be with me?!” He cries, unable to keep the tears at bay any more. He hates arguing with people, especially when that person happens to be his boyfriend. He gets it, he does! Toshi is training to become a hero and so is he but that doesn’t make it easier. Doesnt stop the shot of fear whenever he watches the other get hurt, doesn’t stop the late night self deprecation, doesn’t stop the anxiety he gets whenever he sees Toshi run head first into danger.

But he gets it and somehow it’s a bitter realization.

Because Hitoshi’s priority is the job they signed up for and Denki’s is Hitoshi.

The fight ends with tears on both their parts and they call it a night, too tired to scream anymore

They sleep in their own rooms that night

The next morning they agree to take a break, not a full break up, but some time away. Space away from each other to prioritize and think.

(Now ive seen fanfics where everyone picks denki over Shinsou and i hate that so fuck you, class 1A are both their friends and they’re all family and try and to help each other I will die with that statement)

Surprisingly the two most helpful people are Bakugou and Kirishima

(Actually not that surprising, they’re the longest couple in the whole class, dating immediately after Kamino)

Bakugou and denki have a heart to heart

“You’re both dumbasses” Katsuki sighs heavy, passing another tissue over to the sobbing blonde. He’s not good at these kinds of things, but Kirishima told him he could help the electric blonde more than he could so here he is. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong or just cry?” He asks, not without a hint of worry though. He pretends to ignore it.

So denki tells him everything and his insecurities

Oh. Yeah, Kirishima was right.

“You think I’m an idiot” Denki mutters quietly, harshly rubbing his eyes.

“No” The older blonde shakes his head, plopping down on the bed next to the other. He doesn’t turn to meet yellow eyes, his own trained on the All Might poster hanging directly across from them. He feels Pikachu’s curious gaze on him so he decides to elaborate more, knowing the sooner he helps the sooner he doesn’t have to deal with this anymore. It’s totally not because he’s gotten soft. Absolutely not.

“Trust me, Zombie Eyes looks at you like you put the fucking stars in the sky. It’s disgusting to watch.” He crinkles his nose in disgust earning a small laugh. “People like him and I, we gotta work twice as hard. Not saying that no one else does but it’s different.” He stresses the last word. “People like Ei or Deku or even you, people already see you as good so all you gotta do is get stronger. They don’t question your character, your morals, they don’t look down on you for having a weakness. People like Zombie Eyes and I though?we gotta work hard just to prove that we’re good. That we were meant to become heroes. Every action we do is put under a microscope and analyzed.” He explains.

“We’re assholes by default, It’s how we were raised. Not saying it as an excuse though. He was in the shitty system and I had shitty parents, no adult taught us shit like love or how to properly deal with feelings.”

Stupid Deku tried with him but he didn’t even know how to deal with his own much less some angry blond kid’s.

He takes a deep breath, pushing back faint memories of his childhood. The younger hasn’t said a word but he can tell he’s listening so it’s fine. “We can’t just turn off how we are. If it’s frustrating for you and Ei, It’s worse for us. Like we know logically that we’re good people, that we changed but that’s now how our brain sees it. We push ourselves because that’s all we know how to do, it proves to us and everyone else that we bled for our spot here. That we made it. Having friends is hard because we compare ourselves to them and draw our own conclusions to their actions. Being nice? Our brain says it’s a trap. Showing some human fucking decency? Our shitty brain says it’s an act. Being in a relationship? Laughable. We’re just villains pretending to play heroes to everyone else.”

He takes another deep breath, forcing himself to look away from the poster, flashbacks to their first year briefly passing in his head. Okay yeah, not going down that route. He looks over, making eye contact. He wonders if this is how Kirishima feels whenever he’s trying to cheer him up. Wonders if it’s just as hard. This better be worth it, everyone has been miserable. (Shitty thing about having been through life and death situations together is that everyone has bonded and become close like a family so when one of them is sad it’s like everyone is fucking sad.) (He loathes it because even he gets worried.)

“But despite that he still loves you.” He says softly, almost whispering like he’s telling the other a secret. “Fights his demons to hold your hand and all that shit”

Shinsou loves him? Loves him?

“How do you.. how do you know?” Denki whispers, throat sore. “We fought so badly last night, we were screaming at eachother.”

“He treats you the same way I treat Ei.” He answers,

“He changed his priorities around to try and accommodate for another person in his life, you became more important than training or studying. He takes days off to be with you, cuts his studying short if you need a break. It might not seem much to others but for him that’s huge. He came in with this one track mind but then you came along and he scrambled to balance everything. And then you two got your shit together and started to go out and I’m pretty sure he got scared”

“Scared?” Denki asks, the thought almost funny to him.

“I did.” Bakugou admits as Denki’s eyes grow wide.

“I was petrified. When Ei started to become more important than hero work, I freaked. It’s not that loverboy is choosing being a hero over you, It’s because he doesn’t understand that he can have both. He thinks everything important is a choice- that if you want something you have to give something up. He chooses hero work and he loses you. He chooses you and he loses hero work.”

“But he’s not going to lose me or hero work”

“Kinda sounded like you did give him an ultimatum though”

The realization hits him like cold water.

Shinsou gets a similar talk with Kirishima

It helps, a lot

They don’t immediately go back to eachother, instead spending the week with their everyone else and just taking time for themselves

Shinsou knocks on Denki’s door Sunday morning and they finally talk things out

It’s also the first time they say ily!!

Anyways after that fight they work harder on communicating especially when it comes to things like hero work

It’s not perfect bc their dumb traumatized teens but they’re trying and they know their lil family will always be there

I haven’t slept but yes thanks for sticking around if you’re reading this

If ur interested in shinsou’s talk with Kirishima lmk

#shinkami headcannons #shinkami #drabble #snippets #shinsou x kaminari #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou #denki kaminari #kaminari #my hero academia #kiribaku #Kirishima #bnha bakugou

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bipercabeth · 4 years

Note

I CANT DECIDE BETWEEN "I didn’t mean to get blood on your shirt." OR "Please, just let me carry you." FOR THE PROMPTS YOU PICK :D

(tw injury, blood, and near-death)

One of the first things Camp Half-Blood tried and failed to teach Percy was how to stay calm in a crisis. You are worth nothing to the people you love if you lose your mind trying to save them.

On one hand, he does succeed. More people will die if Percy leaves the manticore unchallenged at the base of Half-Blood Hill, so he stays. For the kids racing to Thalia’s pine. Nothing else. His heart sits in the grass where Annabeth crumpled after the manticore’s spikes drove up her flesh in a line. Percy is just a body—a machine on autopilot. His humanity has fallen.

Killing the monster is easy after that. Percy thinks of the last time a manticore took Annabeth away, and the anger starts a forest fire inside him, one that could level the Long Island forest. Riptide slices through the manticore’s chest like he’s nothing, which is what he becomes. Dust. Ash. Utterly insignificant.

The sword falls as Percy rushes to Annabeth’s side. It doesn’t make a sound as it hits the soft earth, just a thump in the grass. It should be ugly, loud, cacophonous. It should echo up the hillside in a metallic cry for help.

Instead it’s quiet.

Annabeth’s breathing is low, laborious. The manticore’s poison shouldn’t be enough to kill, but she took multiple hits. Spikes peek out of her left side, poison seeping into her shoulder, side, hip, and calf. It darkens her veins in an eerie spiderweb pattern she would hate.

All at once, Percy is back on the Williamsburg bridge. There she is at his feet, looking up at him through cloudy eyes and dying. Percy made a promise then: no one touches her. Another bullet point on the long list of promises he couldn’t keep.

Annabeth’s chest shudders with a raggedy gasp. “Perce?” She asks it like she isn’t sure it’s him. Percy wonders how much pain it takes to plant the seed of doubt that he would be anywhere but at her side right now.

Smoke billows from his lungs instead of a response, thick and choking in the wake of extinguished anger. There is only fear now, and after fear, there is nothing.

This is the bit Percy can never stomach or sit through no matter how many times Chiron tries to drill it into his head. He sees Annabeth struggling for breath and wonders each time if this is the cruel trick the Fates planned for him all along. Percy never expected to live long, but he always expected Annabeth to live longer. From the moment he learned of the Prophecy, not having to live without her was the one certainty he held close to his chest.

He fumbles for the emergency ambrosia in his pocket and cups Annabeth’s face, telling her he’s here. They don’t need words for this. She turns into the soft embrace of his palm and sighs, her lungs steady for that single exhale. He slips the ambrosia into her mouth and watches her chew carefully.

“Tastes like you,” she croaks, gripping his wrist. “Your smile at Montauk.”

That rallies Percy. Annabeth has kissed enough of his sea-born smiles to recognize the taste. He owes her a lifetime of them.

“Annabeth. Baby, I’m here. I’m gonna get you safe, alright?”

Her grip tightens on his wrist. “I love you.”

Percy has to look away from her then. He can’t watch her say those words like they’re going to be her last. Like she wants them to be her last.

“I love you too. But tell me that later, yeah? When you’re patched up. Please just let me carry you.”

One of the newer campers runs over the hill, a son of Apollo who stays year-round. His eyes widen at the scene before him, and Percy wonders if this is going to be his first taste of real grief.

“Will isn’t here,” the kid squeaks. “He’s gone for the weekend. Our next best healer is...”

Percy is tired, but not unkind. “Spit it out, kid.”

“Me.”

A bit of Percy withers, both for Annabeth and the child shouldering an impossible burden. Percy has no choice but to carry them both.

Determination solidifies in his bones, fortifying him in the wake of an unbearable weight. He gathers Annabeth in his arms and stands, feeling the burn of loss in his muscles. He is weak in the wake of a life without her.

His feet carry him, perhaps on autopilot, to the creek running through camp. The son of Apollo senses his urgency and runs to iris message a more capable healer they don’t have time to reach. Annabeth is dying, and the poison waits for no one. Percy can feel her life force drifting away like a tug at the base of his spine. If he loses her, he will spend the rest of his life adrift.

The cool creek water soaks Percy’s shoes, and he folds. By some miracle, he is steady as he lowers their bodies into the stream, thankful to the shallowness for not allowing him to sink. He holds Annabeth in his lap, lets her head tip back just enough for the stream to color her hair darker. It tugs at her curls like a loving hand.

This is all Percy has left: a prayer that the water will recognize Annabeth as part of him. She is his life. If the water wants to save him, it will start with her.

He makes the tough choice and pulls the spikes from her body. She is already dying from the poison. The risk of bleeding out is outweighed by the hope that the water will leech the death from her blood. Hope is all Percy has left. No smoke, no ash. The fire is gone. He is nothing but a body holding his bleeding heart in his hands.

“I love you,” he chokes out, holding her limp neck in his palm. “I’m here. I’m right here. Stay with me.”

Percy thinks of his dad watching from above, doomed to outlive everyone he has ever loved. The point of refusing immortality was a life full of love at the cost of length. He thinks of every Montauk kiss, how healing has always tasted like home, and how that somehow because synonymous with Annabeth. If she dies here, healing will taste bitter. He will never be able to eat ambrosia again. He will never want to.

“You promised.” The current of the creek quickens, painting their clothes a darker color. Annabeth’s blood swirls in the water before disappearing downstream. The ground beneath them begins to shake. “I fought, I burned, and I yielded. For this. For her. Heal her.”

Poseidon answers. The current reverses, washing over their bodies like a baptism, a rebirth. Annabeth’s veins fade back into her skin and the wounds knit shut. With each passing second, a bit of Percy’s heart returns to his chest. He can feel his fingers again. He can feel. Love and light have not died.

Annabeth’s chest steadies and she gasps, the life returning to her in one fell swoop. She gasps I love you into Percy’s chest like those are the only words she knows, the only ones she’ll have him hear. He crushes her to him, their shirts sticking from the water, and whispers the same into her shoulder. I love you I love you I love you.

Their grips don’t loosen. They don’t relax. They just cling to each other, fearful of letting go in the face of another brush with death. This is their life; this is why they hold each other so tightly, even in times of peace.

“I’m sorry.” Annabeth’s voice is too small, detached. Percy pulls back to look at her and finds her staring at his chest.

“I didn’t mean to get blood on your shirt.” She frowns. “This is one of my favorite shirts.”

Percy sees the faraway look in her eyes and puts a finger under her chin, ducking until she locks on him. “Hey, easy. It’ll wash out.” He swallows thickly. “I love you.” It sounds like it’s okay. I love you, and you are still here, so it’s okay.

Annabeth kisses him, ambrosia still on her lips, and it just tastes like her.

#this is i am no orpheus’s little sister #THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I TALK TO JERSEY APPARENTLY #feel free to mine this for tsoa references there are at LEAST three #drabbles #my fic #my percabeth #pjo fics #iris messages #wasithard

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springday-aus · 3 years

Text

Disney Prince!AU with Seonghwa

★ Seonghwa as Disney’s Prince Charming ★

moodboard link

Group: ATEEZ

Member: Park Seonghwa

Genre: fluff, romance, hints of angst

part of the Disney Prince Series - could also be a prince!au

Type: Bulletpoint AU

Word Count: approx. 3k

A/N: I had to spice things up a bit bc after a rewatch of Cinderella, I have realized they have no flavor and got a bit carried away—so enjoy!

Warnings: family death + mentions of abusive family - you know the classic princess storyline.

Seonghwa….. is not your average prince

but it’s not depicted in a negative light

so, he’s the prince other nations wished they had

he’s very involved with the state of affairs, often spends time in the villages and conversing with the townsfolk, and often visits schools to read to them or just watch them and it’s so……...wholesome

*cut to him struggling to sit on the carpet with the kids bc his legs can’t fold*

basically everyone loves him because he’s got this angelic aura around him that just makes you feel like you can trust him with anything

and I mean anything

mothers would probably offer him their babies if that was appropriate

he’s just super sweet and tries to remember what he learns in order to take it back and make use of it with the current policies that the parliament is trying to endorse or something

obviously, this is the main image of him to the public

and it’s not fake

but those in the palace know he can get a bit mischievous and sassy

it’s only really seen by those who are close with him, or have been around for a longer time

like assistant!Hongjoong and head butler!Wooyoung

since they’re all close in age and grew up together too, they’re much more comfortable with one another

Hongjoong: *hits his head on a doorway*

Seonghwa: “......... are you an idiot?”

guard!Yeosang and butler-in-training!San: laughing

no, but for real, all of them know he’s basically an angel

the amount of shit he’s putting up with them, but like they make for great entertainment lmao

anyways

the older workers at the palace find him adorable

like when Seonghwa tried to sneak-eat the freshly picked strawberries

“my prince, did you just eat a strawberry?”

Seonghwa with a mouthful of them: “no”

he’s like the grandson they all want (and are trying to get, but we’ll get to that later)

other than his charities and visits and public outings, he’s also known to be a good horseback rider

like real good

Wooyoung: “this is the most princely we’ll ever see him”

he’s kidding, but he’s also not kidding

bc lbr: Seonghwa in a horseback riding fit with the shoulder pads and the helmet and the wind and

Wow

many gather to see him in his glorious, sweaty state afterwards

it’s funny bc he’s so handsome and there are times when he’ll acknowledge it and other times when he doesn’t

especially since the ateez boys just ignore him or tease him

now it just depends on how he feels that day as to how he’d react

since he’s got such a good reputation, you know what that means?

lots of treaties and lots of marriage proposals

on one hand, many nearby countries know how nice Prince Seonghwa is—and some thought he was naive enough to be deceived by them

and that led to a few wars, but they lost real bad bc they assumed he was too nice

when, in actuality, he’s very knowledgeable since he takes a lot after the king and the queen

that allowed much more respect for the kingdom, especially since he’s the first in line for the throne once he’s married

which leads to the second thing: he gets lots and lots of marriage proposals

have you SEEN him?????

do you know how CAPABLE he is????

helloo?????

anyways

the royal family kind of milks this—not in that way tho

it’s in the sense that it’s because they want him to find someone soon and there’s more time for them to learn the ropes about ruling a kingdom

that means lots of balls are thrown in hopes of Seonghwa finding someone to ~catch his eye~ and whatnot

but Seonghwa just uses this as a diplomatic advantage, you know? like a chance for him to meet other royals and build these relationships

and while he has good intentions, the rejected royals are kind of bitter, but they know better than to mess with the Royal Family

meanwhile, party planner!Yunho is lowkey racking in the dough from these events, so he’s fine throwing all these balls lmao

this is where you come in

but, it’s not how others might think

so, you used to be the daughter of a well-of-ish family—you had money for a house and caretakers who adored you and you with parents who loved you dearly

you lived in your own little bubble of love

but then your mother died

when she died, it was almost as if she had taken the lively atmosphere of the household with her

your father buried himself into his work, rarely making time for you anymore and…. there was a drift

one day he came home with a mysterious woman, proclaiming her as your stepmother

along with her came her two daughters, who were as ugly outside as they were on the inside

while you could have done without her passive-aggressiveness, it was nice to see your father happy

but lo-and-behold, you lucked out and he died on a business trip, leaving you alone with strangers to become your only family

it only got worse from there as they openly started to mock you, shame you and push you beyond your boundaries

as they could no longer pay for the staff, they also forced you to clean after them, cook for them, and make all the arrangements that they demanded

or, as your oh-so-lovely stepmother said “you’re below us and you will always be below us”

at first, you put up with it because there’s nowhere else for you

but, slowly, the idea of running away was starting to sound better

and the opportunity came as the palace was starting to look for more servants who would stay in the servants’ quarters

you immediately packed away your things, which wasn’t much to begin with—your mother’s locket being the major trinket you possessed

and ran off to work as a housekeeper, who hid away behind the palace walls and the public eye

since you clean for the palace, it also means cleaning after the balls

other than television appearances, you never really saw the royal family

even as you did work in the palace because……………. they’re running a goddamned country

but, of course, there are rumors and gossip with the other housekeepers which all come from reliable resources

**cough cough definitely Wooyoung cough cough**

so there’s a lot of what you heard, not really from what you’ve seen, despite what some might think when working in the palace

that was until you were called to work at your first ball

which meant you were cleaning after the tables and in the kitchens, going in and out of the ballroom and between dinner tables

getting glimpses of some of the royals

and picking up on some of their juicy conversations

(apparently this one duke almost had an affair with this king’s secret mistress… all the tea)

anyways

you get the point

every once in a while you have to work at the balls when they need the extra help

but, there was one that was…………. different

a lot of the balls are for the royals to take and engage and whatever, but there have been so many and Seonghwa………….

Seonghwa hasn’t been interested in a single one despite the purpose being to help him find someone

Hongjoong: “what’s wrong with them?”

Seonghwa: “there’s nothing wrong with them, I don’t want just someone”

Seonghwa: “I want it to happen naturally—call me old fashioned but if this is someone I want to spend the rest of my life with, it has to be someone who knows me”

Wooyoung, in the corner: “that is old fashioned, hasn’t he heard of tinder?”

advisor!Mingi: “I don’t think it would be a good look for the country if the prince is on tinder”

guard!Yeosang: “we should test it out”

butler-in-training!San: “omg reverse pretty woman”

Hongjoong: “everyone get out, you’re all useless”

okay, but like real talk: he’s such a romantic and the whole unofficial arranged marriage is just………. too much

so, his parents were like: so, you want more options?

Seonghwa: “not what I said”

and they expanded the invitation list for one night, meaning ANYONE had a shot with Seonghwa and

well

he is very popular, so you can imagine how many people were planning on coming and the staff (i.e. you) had to prepare for everything

for the week, the castle was bustling and you were running around to help out and it……. it was all so insane

and then it happens

you’re minding your own business and working and eavesdropping as one does when one works

because everyone is there and who doesn’t love listening to drama that isn’t just from fancy people

but since everyone is here

you failed to remember that a certain group of people were also there

the group of people being your step-mother and step sisters

instinctively, you ducked and hid, moving away from the main room that was swarmed with people who were all trying to obtain Seonghwa’s attention

(who was also trying to hide from everyone else and instinctively failing)

eventually, you found yourself in the gardens, where you tried to make yourself busy

but it ended up being a small walk through the gardens, picking up the occasional liter and small talk with the gardeners

the garden is huge, so you get a bit lost as you wander—physically and emotionally

meanwhile, Seonghwa managed to escape from the others with the help of the other ateez boys

major shoutout to Yunho and Jongho, who insisted on leading the cupid shuffle and cha cha slide

also Yeosang for blocking off people who were trying to shoot their shot with a tired Seonghwa who did not want any of this

he ended up in the gardens as well, walking down a small path with Yeosang trailing a bit farther behind

he spots you on a bench, admiring the flowers under the bright moonlight

and you were absolutely breath-taking

not wanting to disturb your peace, he tried to leave

only to knock into a garden gnome and catch your attention as he tries to not break it

You: “um”

Seonghwa: “I’m so sorry, I was just going to leave, I didn’t mean to disturb you”

You: he looks familiar

You: “I know you from somewhere”

Seonghwa: literally in the most extravagant suit and sparkle make-up as he’s still crouched on the ground trying not to break a gnome that cost like $5 at a Target

also Seonghwa: “have we met before?”

you exchange names and that’s when it clicks

You: “OH MY GOD. MY PRINCE.”

immediately, you try to curtsy or bow or whatever the royals make you do to the ground bc Seonghwa’s still at ground level

and Seonghwa’s just…………. scrambling to try to get you off the ground with flushed ears at you calling him your prince

Seonghwa: “please, you literally do not have to”

You: “I don’t want to be beheaded”

You: “plus, isn’t it like, illegal for me not to?”

Seonghwa: “well, I’m technically giving you orders not to…..”

You: well, can’t argue with that

you slowly get up and dust yourself off, unable to look at him in the eye

even from the corner of your eyes tho, you can see what the fuss is about

bc Seonghwa in that suit and hair swept back is hot™

You: “Prince, I apologize if I’m speaking out of line, but shouldn’t you be inside?”

Seonghwa: “couldn’t I ask you the same thing?”

You: “but this is in your honor, not mine”

Seonghwa: “is it tho?”

Seonghwa: “I keep telling everyone I would like to fall in love on my own and yet………. everyone keeps meddling and making plans and now everyone in the kingdom is after me when I’m just trying to do my best for our citizens”

you’re a bit silent, unsure as to how to respond

Seonghwa: “I’m sorry for just dumping this on you, but, everyone keeps telling me I shouldn’t be so worried”

You: “well, Prince, I think what you need to hear is that your feelings are valid”

You: “it’s only natural for you to want to find someone on your own—freedom is something everyone wants, which is why it’s so hard to obtain”

there’s a bit of an awkward silence

for one bc you didn’t know what he was really like and if you were allowed to say something like that

two being that you didn’t know if you should leave

but he speaks up

Seonghwa: “you’re right—I did need that”

the air loosens a bit between the two of you

Seonghwa: “so, are you also hiding from an influx of suitors?”

you laugh a little, playing like a twinkling melody to Seonghwa’s ears

You: “no, but I am hiding from people”

Seonghwa: “it’s okay, you don’t have to share if you don’t want to”

you two get to spend a bit more time together, just chatting and getting to know one another

he’s really sweet, but also kind of goofy with a handful of cheesy pickup lines that definitely comes from spending too much time on the internet but also Wooyoung

the time is short but sweet

bc, before you know it, it strikes 12 and Hongjoong has a hold on him by bulldozing past Yeosang who just blinks at the small gust of wind

Hongjoong: “Seonghwa! your parents are looking for you! we gotta go!”

he greets you hastily, before grabbing a hold of Seonghwa and dragging him away—in which Seonghwa is still trying to get one last look at you before you disappear off into the night

or, in your case, back to the kitchen to avoid your stepfamily

the rest of the night passes as expected, at least for you as you busy yourself with washing dishes in the kitchen

but Seonghwa found himself like a mercat, poking his head around trying to find you every once in a while

the time you’d spent together was short, but it was the most fun he’s had at these balls

and it showed, as noted by Hongjoong and Wooyoung with the week that followed after

he was spacing out, wondering what could have been if things were different

basically, homeboy was sulking bc he didn’t know when he could see you again or if you had someone or if you were even interested

Hongjoong: “how are we supposed to help him when we don’t even know who it is?”

Mingi: “didn’t you get a glimpse?”

Hongjoong: “I was busy with other things”

Wooyoung: “so you didn’t even ask for a name?”

Yeosang: “it’s (Y/N)”

all the boys:

Hongjoong: “how do you know that?”

Yeosang: “I was eavesdropping”

San: “um—”

Wooyoung: “wait, we know (Y/N)”

Yunho: “so am I throwing another party or?”

Wooyoung: “we can find (Y/N) first and then throw a party”

so, they kind of hunt you down to where you’re cleaning for the day

and Wooyoung asks you about Seonghwa

lowkey bc he wants the tea but also bc he wanted to make sure you’re not one of those insane people that are completely obsessed with him

(considering what he had to witness during that last ball)

and after passing his vibe check

he sends you to the library “to clean”

which is odd because you already cleaned it for the week but

Wooyoung: “I’m technically your boss, so go”

You: weirded out

also you: “okay”

little did you know, Seonghwa was already there, occupying himself with some new books while Hongjoong and Yeosang were keeping an eye out for you

who was lowkey trying to hide in the shadows and failing miserably bc of all the goddamned windows

Seonghwa spots your shadow, quickly getting up and following you

Seonghwa: “wait! (Y/N)?”

you turn around, a bit startled from the call out

Seonghwa: “I thought it was you”

you give a small bow to greet him

You: “my prince”

Seonghwa: “you can just call me Seonghwa”

Seonghwa: “I didn’t know you were here”

You: “I didn’t know you were here either”

he lets out a small chuckle

Seonghwa: “I meant I didn’t know you were staying in the castle”

You: “I’m not just staying here, I work here prin—Seonghwa”

Seonghwa: “well I guess that makes finding you a bit easier around here”

You: “you were looking for me?”

Seonghwa: “well, I like your company”

You: flushed

Seonghwa: “do you enjoy mine?”

You: “I’d be glad to bask in your presence”

and for a moment, it’s just the two of you

*cut to Hongjoong and Yeosang high-fiving in the back*

after that, the two of you spend more time together

it’s cute bc Seonghwa also likes to clean (which explains why there were never housekeepers needed for him)

so it means he also helps you clean and still have fun doing it

speaking of which, you got to find out how domestic he is and it melts your heart every time

especially when he’s interacting with children who visit the castle

so you can tell he really wants a family

bc he’s so good with kids and knows how to take care of people and what more can you really ask for

he’s also a great listener

like he really knows what you need based on what you tell him

and when you opened up to him about what happened at home

he was just such a big sweetheart about it, asking if you’re okay and checking with you emotionally and it

I LOVE PARK SEONGHWA SO MUCH

anyways

so his parents did find out bc Wooyoung has a big mouth and def blabbed to San and everyone else in the goddamned kingdom who knows Wooyoung

rip Seonghwa

also rip everyone in the kingdom who found out bc again

Seonghwa is very desired amongst many

which also led to a lot of jealous people who gossiped about you but jokes on them bc you still have Seonghwa at the end of the day and they have jack shit :)

back to what I was saying

when his parents found out, they were totally accepting of it considering how happy the two of you are

(also you were lowkey fearful they were just gonna straight up kill you bc you aren’t royal, but also, they’re good rulers who care about people)

which also meant they wanted to train you to help him run the kingdom but that’s a different story

anyways, prince charming!Seonghwa is indeed very charming

and gentlemanly and all that other good stuff

110 notes · View notes

hotchley · 3 years

Text

like blood underneath your fingernails

Honestly, I’m quite proud of this one. It’s been in the works for a while, and I finally have a title (from Looking Too Closely- Fink) and I both did those flashcards and emptied the dishwasher, so it’s here now. It’s been proofread!! Once. In the car.

The writers (according to the internet) did not deal with the aftermath of Scratch’s initial... thing. So I took it upon myself to write the case after. It got dark, but I had fun writing it. And it has low-key Mortch vibes... a lot of other amazing writers have also written fics linked to this, so you need to read those too because they’re just the best

OH!! This is not a Rossi-friendly fic. I have tried to explain why he responds the way he does, but it does come off as Rossi bashing, so if you reallllly love him and think he was a great friend to Hotch... skip on this one.

Trigger Warnings: dissociation, aftermath of torture, a slight reference to suicide and child death, canon-typical violence, cases involving kidnappings and murder, blood, dark themes, other canon-typical darkness, hallucinations

read on ao3!

He cannot close his eyes.

Because when he closes his eyes, he sees one of them, falling to the ground as the light leaves their eyes and the life leaves their body because his worst fear has never been his own death. It has always been the death of the family he is meant to protect- whether that was Sean, or Haley or the team.

He hears the fear in JJ's voice as Spencer, her little brother, the boy that has always been too young, the man that he has never succeeded in saving, falls to the ground, eyes never opening again.

He tastes the horrifying and coppery tang of blood as Derek is shot right in front of his eyes, the blood splattering onto his cheek and every sentence Reid has ever spoken about the bacteria and pathogens in blood springing to the forefront of his mind.

He smells the bitter and disgusting sage that Peter Lewis uses to torment people and turn them into brutal murderers that cannot stand the sight of their own hands or wrap their heads around their actions because they had always been normal and good, and it hurts because he's already a killer, never once normal or good.

He touches the knife that was slid towards him, the metal cool against his warm hand and the weight a comforting thing that make him feel like he could regain control of the situation he was in, despite the thoughts of George Foyet that fill his mind, and he wonders whether Scratch is impotent.

He closes his eyes and he no longer knows what is real.

It is why he is returning to work only ten days after the case. He had wanted to take the usual five, terrified even of that small number because he couldn't trust himself. The doctors that assessed him in the hospital wanted him to take thirty. Ten, and a passed psychological evaluation, had been the compromise.

He wonders if the team knows how he lied. They must do. They aren't stupid. He wonders if anyone will call him out on it, or if they'll once again be so terrified of the humanity he wants nothing more than to cling to that they will simply watch and wait until he shatters again.

The steady ticking of the clock is the only noise in the otherwise silent apartment. When he flicks the light on, he sees there are still five hours until he needs to wake up. For a single moment, he closes his eyes, contemplating whether or not attempting to sleep is a pointless exercise. He swears he can still taste sage and opens his eyes again.

A silent house is not necessarily a bad thing. It means Jack is sleeping through the night, no nightmares about the gunshots haunting him. And it means the extra locks on the door, the obsessive way he checks every window is locked as soon as the sun goes down, are doing their job at keeping the monsters out of the only home Jack has real memories of.

Aaron creeps out of bed, grabbing the jumper that was folded at the foot of his bed. Once he's put it on, he sighs to himself and counts to five. For each number, he tells himself a fact that cannot be disputed. That grounds him.

His name is Aaron Hotchner.

He is forty-four years old.

He is standing inside his bedroom, in his apartment, which is located in Virginia.

The windows of that apartment are locked from the inside.

Just down the hallway, his son is sleeping peacefully, untouched by the monsters that strangle his father every single day.

He creeps down that hallway, taking comfort when the same floorboard that always creaks does just that. Normally he would avoid it. But lately he's been finding every opportunity to do something that Peter Lewis would have no knowledge of, if only so he can convince himself he's fine.

Jack's door is slightly open, allowing some light to enter. Aaron nudges it gently, making sure he doesn't wake Jack. The door doesn't make a sound, and his son carries on sleeping. He never looks so similar to his mother as he does when he sleeps. Haley slept on her left side, a slight smile on her face, and Jack does the same, unless he has a bad dream.

But even then, he is so much like his mother that his tears can be turned into something beautiful. Aaron was the exception of their little family, having always expressed his emotions so honestly, the few times he let himself do that, that there was no way it could be anything but ugly and human.

He's too big for the chair in front of Jack's desk, but he sits in it anyways, turning it so he can face Jack's bed. On the table is his latest art project- a collage of things that remind him of the people he loves- and Aaron finds it difficult to look at. Because his son has painted his mother as a perfect angel, and his father a superhero.

One day, Jack will realise his father is the furthest thing from the superhero and he will hate him for destroying his childhood and taking his mother from him before he was old enough to understand that people were mortal. Aaron is mentally preparing for that day- there are already so many letters that will never excuse or justify what he did hidden in his office drawer- but until then. he will allow himself this one good thing.

He will allow himself to sit, and take comfort in the steady rise and fall of Jack's chest. He ends up staying there until sunlight starts to stream through the window, and then he takes his leave.

Seeing Jack, sleeping so calmly and normally, reminds him of why he's going back to work. Because if he hurts the wrong person there, the team won't hesitate and they'll do it. If he hurts Jack- and he knows he's weaker than the man that refused to harm his son, knows that it will be Jack- there will be nobody there to end his pain and suffering. He'll be forced to live with it.

A minute before his alarm is set to go, he turns it off, and then he goes about morning like it is any other day.

He doesn't feel like himself till he puts the watch Dave got him when became lead profiler on, tightening the strap till it mirrors the feeling of holding the knife. And he wonders whether the team are discussing his return to duty the same way they had six years ago.

They are. Aaron's absence meant more paperwork for the rest of them, as there is no way the team are going to let him handle it when he comes back, so every single one of them are in an hour earlier. It also means his return will be as smooth as it can be.

Even if they don't all approve.

"It's only been ten days," Derek says. "He needs more time."

"Does he? He came back thirty-four days after George Foyet stabbed him in his apartment and his wife and son were sent into Witness Protection, and he was fine. This is like child's play compared to that," Dave says, fiddling with a paperclip.

"Ex-wife," Reid corrects quietly.

The three of them are sitting in the bullpen, looking towards the elevator every few minutes. Kate pretends she's not listening, and Derek pretends he believes her.

"Was he fine? He looked us in the eye and asked why a man that had lost his wife and child was still alive. He walked into a hostage situation unarmed. We all pretended he was fine because we needed Foyet to strike, but I'm not making that mistake again. Not after what happened when he did end up striking," Derek snaps.

Spencer swallows. Dave just raises an eyebrow. It's almost funny. Spencer views Aaron as a father, Dave as a son. Either way, they both believe he is perfect. Able to come back from anything and everything with nothing more than a broken ego. But Derek remembers what Foyet's body looked like, and he remembers how Aaron had shattered in his arms for those few seconds.

"If you want to ruin his first day back, then be my guest. But you need to trust him the same way he trusts us. After all, you care more about him than you do your job," Dave says, annoyance bleeding into his tone.

And Derek gets it. He really does. He had wanted to believe Gideon was invincible when he came back after Boston. Everyone had. So they hadn't done anything, and he had just gotten more and more reckless with his actions until innocent people ended up dead and Hotch got suspended. And then he ran.

He isn't going to let that happen again.

"This isn't about not trusting him. This is about keeping him safe. And you're right. I do care about him more, because the last time I didn't, he almost retired. So we either do the opposite of what we did last time, or we let history repeat itself."

"Derek, you can't force him into anything. He passed his psych eval, so Cruz can't do anything either," Spencer says.

Derek softens as he turns to him. "I know pretty boy. It's not about forcing him into anything. It's about making sure he knows that we're here if he needs more time, or if he needs a break. And don't get me started on that psych eval. I saw his answers. They're too perfect. He's lying."

"So what are you going to do?" Dave challenges, and not for the first time, Derek wonders how Aaron kept his sanity working with him, Jason Gideon and Max Ryan at the same time without any of the other members to meet his eyes with the same exasperated look every time one of them reverted to the old fashioned way of doing things.

"Be the friend he trusts me to be," Derek says. It's his own challenge. Dave prides himself on being the only one to call him Aaron. To people outside the team, Rossi seems to be the only one that Aaron trusts enough to be vulnerable with.

But Derek knows better. Aaron will never be completely open with anyone, but he still feels like he has a duty to be the hopeful and undamaged boy that thought he could save the world that Dave recruited. He still has a duty to be the father that Spencer never had and thought he'd found in Gideon. It is only with Derek that he allows himself to do his own type of falling apart: one that is contained and messy and ugly. Somehow both terrifying and anticlimactic

It was Derek that stopped him from running into a burning building all those years ago. It was Derek that was voluntarily told about Haley leaving. It was Derek that stepped up as Unit Chief and pulled him off Foyet's dead body. Not Dave and certainly not Spencer. So he won't let them influence his actions. Not this time.

Hotch does blink. But only when he thinks nobody will see him do it.

Dave keeps eye contact for a few more moments, but this time, Derek does not break it. Eventually the older man turns around and heads to his office. Derek sighs, knowing fully well that Aaron is going to end up doing the paperwork anyways.

"Is he going to be okay?" Spencer asks, sounding so painfully young that Derek has to look at him to remember he wasn't the new recruit anymore.

"Dave? Yeah, he'll be annoyed, we'll get a case and then everything will be fine," Derek says, smiling so Reid doesn't worry.

"No I meant Hotch. Will he be okay?"

Derek can't tell him the truth. "Of course he will. He's Hotch."

"Why are you lying to me?"

He knows there's no point in trying to deny it. "I'm not trying to patronise you or keep you in the dark. It's not that. It's just- I don't know. It's stupid, but I want to shield you from his mortality and flaws and imperfections for as long as is humanly possible. You are always going to have a different relationship with Hotch because of how much younger you are, and I just don't want to be the one that ruins it."

"So you want to protect me?"

Derek nods. "I guess."

"Thank you. Nobody ever did that when I was younger," Spencer says.

Kate breaks the ensuing silence by asking for Spencer's opinion on her consult, and Derek starts watching the elevator doors again. They don't open until precisely nine, when Hotch steps off, dressed in the same suit and tie he wears every second Monday of the month, carrying his briefcase and acting like nothing happened.

He gives them a slight smile as he passes them in the bullpen, and even those few seconds are enough for Derek to see that he hasn't been sleeping.

When Aaron sets his briefcase down, Spencer looks to him, nervous. Derek gives him a small smile, even though they all saw him as he entered. It's only been ten days since they last saw him, but his suits seem to hang from him more than before. Dave looks out at them, and Derek starts to count.

He counts to three hundred, and is immediately struck by just how fast time can go. Three hundred seconds is five minutes, and yet it feels like no time has passed. But when Hotch looks out at them, as he always does, everyday, without fail, ten days feels like a lifetime.

He is terrified as he stands, but he fights through the fear and goes up to his friend's office. The door is open, so he walks in without knocking. When Hotch looks at him, he closes both the door and the blinds. Hotch swallows as the sound of them closing fills the air.

"I don't want them profiling this conversation," he explains.

Aaron just nods. "Thank you."

"You don't need to pretend with me," Derek says.

Aaron looks away, and Foyet's presence, usually contained to the self-deprecating voice in his head telling him he's no better than his father, seems to fill the room. They both know why he doesn't pretend anymore.

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"You don't need to say anything. I don't expect you to tell me the truth, because I wouldn't, if I was you. I'd be too terrified. But I remember what it was like seeing Spencer and Emily. So if you do want to talk, then I'm here. Always. And I won't flinch."

Aaron knows this to be true. When they finally got back to Quantico after Jason's death, Derek found him sobbing in the men's bathroom, the barriers he had spent so long piecing together completely breaking when he opened his drawer and found a photo from the early days, where Jason looked happy and hopeful. He hadn't said anything. Just sat beside him, and offered a tissue.

"I know you won't."

Derek sighs, not sure what he's meant to do. "Aaron-" he starts, not sure what he's going to see next.

"I can't trust myself. I- I don't know what's real, and I keep trying to do the grounding things that the bureau therapist said I need to, but I don't know if they're working. I have post-it notes all over the apartment and I have my five facts, and I have things I can touch, but Scratch knew so much, I can't- I feel like he's everywhere and he knows everything."

It is so honestly vulnerable that Derek wants nothing more than to flee, if only so he can cling to the Aaron that existed when he first joined the unit for just one more moment. But he made a promise. And he has no idea how he's meant to keep it, but he's going to.

He holds his hand out. When Aaron doesn't take it, he leans over the desk, gently linking their fingers. "I'm here. With you. Scratch can't get our body temperatures perfect. He can't know that I'm always slightly warmer and you're always colder. He can't know that twelve years ago, I called you darling because I didn't realise it was you."

Aaron chuckles slightly. "Derek."

"You don't need to say anything. I messed up after Foyet. I won't do that again."

He shakes his head, finally meeting his eyes, and the fire in them is almost enough to convince Derek that everything is going to be fine. Almost.

"You did everything you could after Foyet. If you had tried to do more, I would have stopped you. We both know that. You did everything right, everything perfectly right and you cannot feel like you failed because you didn't. Do you understand me?"

Derek swallows. “Yes. But you need to understand that if you need anything- and I mean anything, whether it’s for me to take the reins for a bit, an unofficial firearms certification, or even just to do the grounding techniques with you, I will.”

Aaron nods. “I know Derek. I know. Thank you.”

Derek gives him the most convincing smile he can, leaving the door open because Aaron hated having it closed. As he exits. Dave steps in, and he sees as Aaron morphs back into Hotch to be the man that Dave needs him to be. It hurts to see, but he understands why it happens.

He doesn’t believe in God. He hasn’t for a while. But he needs to do something other than stare at dead bodies, so he prays that the team remain grounded for a few days. Not for too long because then Aaron will get suspicious and realise that Derek had been forging Rossi’s signature in order to transfer their out of state cases to other teams, but long enough for him to get settled once more.

Or as settled as he would ever be.

It’s probably why, only minutes after Dave leaves Hotch’s office, smiling, whilst the other man just looks exhausted, JJ comes rushing into the bullpen. There are five files in her arms, and she looks frantic.

“No,” Derek says.

“I’m sorry, but we need to go on this one. It came directly to me. It’s- just look.”

He doesn’t want to, but as JJ goes to give the files to Dave and Aaron, he does, if only so he can gauge how much support he will need. And as he opens it, he understands exactly why they’re going on this case. Why, even if JJ had tried to hide it from Hotch, he would’ve said they had a duty.

They have four victims. All blonde women. All mothers. All divorced. Killed by a single gunshot to the head. No evidence of sexual assault, but they were held captive and tortured for three days before being dumped in their home. All found by their ex-husbands, who were only there to drop the child off.

Hotch does not show an ounce of humanity during the journey there. It terrifies Derek. Hotch only refuses to show how human he is when he’s close to falling apart. Too close for anyone to feel comfortable. Instead, he keeps his tone detached and professional. Derek pretends to not notice the way Aaron pushes down on his stomach, over the biggest scar Foyet left. Aaron pretends he doesn’t see Derek watching him.

When they get to the station, Derek knows it’s going to be a long case. Him and Reid are sent to the coroner’s office, whilst JJ and Kate are tasked with searching through their victims history. Which means Hotch and Rossi are left to interview the husbands. JJ and Derek- the most attuned to Hotch and the thought behind his actions- make a silent agreement that they will do whatever it takes to make sure Rossi doesn’t go too far. Whatever that means.

They fail because they don’t get the chance to speak to him before they leave the precinct.

And when they return, Dave is nowhere to be seen, and Aaron is sat in the conference room, clenching his jaw and hyper focused on the details in the case files.

“Did you get anything from the husbands?” JJ asks, tone gentle.

Hotch shakes his head. “They’re grieving, and terrified for their children. But they’re not guilty. They all loved their wives.”

Nobody bothers to point out all four couples were divorced.

"Where's Rossi?" Reid asks.

The tension in Aaron's shoulders increases.

"Hotch," Kate says, the only one that can.

"He accused one of the father's of committing the crime," Hotch says.

JJ and Morgan give each other identical looks. Kate looks horrified, and Spencer is stunned speechless.

"What happened after?" she prompts.

Hotch doesn't speak. Kate sighs, then leads JJ away. As she passes Spencer, she asks him to follow her because Hotch and Morgan need to speak alone. He nods and leaves without another word.

"Aaron," Derek says.

"I ended the interrogation and dragged him out of the room. And then I punched him in the face because those women remind me of Haley and those fathers remind me of myself and every accusation he made reminded me of the months after her death and I couldn't do it."

Derek wants to punch Dave himself. He must have known what he was doing, and in some strange and obscure way thought his actions would help the situation. Clearly he couldn't have been more wrong.

"You didn't cause Haley's death," he says, for lack of any other words.

"I did. Maybe I didn't put the gun to her head and pull the trigger, but I did cause it. That's not what I'm scared about though."

"What are you scared of then?" Derek asks, well aware that they're in the middle of a police station where anyone could hear them, but needing to take advantage of Aaron's vulnerability before he let his mask slip back into place.

"Scratch. I punched Dave and it felt like Scratch was laughing at me, egging me on to hurt him more. The worst part is that I almost did. Punching him felt good, and then I panicked and now I don't know- I don't know whether the only thing I did was punch him or if I did something more."

Derek curses under his breath. "How long have you been feeling like that?"

Hotch shrugs. "I couldn't- I forgot what time it was when I stumbled back here. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he says, the words almost reflexive because of every apology Aaron has ever given him. "We just need to ground you."

He takes Aaron's hands, noting that the muscles are moving the way they should be. It's a small thing, but it's a good thing, because it means he's wearing the wrist support when he needs them and doing the physical therapy.

“Look at me,” he commands softly.

Aaron does so willingly. “Derek, we’re in a conference room.”

“That’s good. Can you give me four other facts that prove you’re here, in this moment with me?”

"My name is Aaron Hotchner. I am forty-four years old. We are in a police station. You are Derek Morgan. There is a door behind you and a window behind me- the window is locked, but the door is wide open. We can both see if someone walks in."

"Show off," Derek teases.

Aaron manages to smile slightly. “Thank you,” he whispers after a moment.

“You have nothing to thank me for,” Derek says. He means it.

This time, Aaron’s laugh is self-deprecating. “I’m a horrible person to look after.”

“Not to me you’re not. How do you feel now?”

He shrugs. “Better, I guess.”

“Drink some water. Slowly. I’ll go check on Dave.”

“Do you think he’s going to hate me?” Aaron asks.

“You’re the closest thing he has to a friend. Of course not,” Derek says. He keeps his tone light, but deep down he’s afraid that Dave will. Not forever, he could never do that, but for long enough that something else goes wrong.

He finds Dave in the bathroom.

“Hotch told me what happened,” he says.

“And what? You’re here to tell me that I shouldn’t have pushed because he’s fragile and hurting? Did you tell him that he shouldn’t have fucking punched me in the face because of something I said to a suspect?”

“Those men were not suspects and you know that,” Derek snaps. He sighs. “I wasn’t coming here to tell you that you shouldn’t have pushed. I came to see whether or not you were okay.”

Dave raises an eyebrow. Derek sighs, again.

“He saw Scratch when he punched you. Now he’s worried. And he’s falling back into old patterns. I told him he didn’t kill Haley and not only did he not believe me, he flat out disagreed and said he did.”

“What do you want me to do?” Dave asks. He doesn’t sound angry, just tired. Derek wants to shout at him. He may be tired after this one event, but he’s not been the one picking up the pieces and gluing their fragile leader back together for the past few years. Dave doesn’t get to be tired. Not whilst Derek is still the only one able to do anything.

“I don’t know Dave. You’ve known him the longest. It was you that found him in the immediate aftermath. You took the gun from him- rather poetic given the last time an unsub targeted him, you told him to take yours- and got him to speak.”

Dave blinks a few times. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I thought being hard on him would bring him back, but I was wrong.”

“It’s okay. You just need to correct yourself now,” Derek says, for lack of any other words.

“I just want him to be the boy he was when he first joined the unit,” Dave whispers.

Derek did not know the boy his friend was then, but he does know the Aaron that existed before Boston. The Aaron that held a baby Jack in their arms like that one small child was enough to remove every piece of darkness to exist. The Aaron that had grabbed Haley’s hand and taken her dancing so they could spend a bit of time together.

"We all do. But he's gone now. The only thing we can do is try to save whatever pieces of him live in the Aaron that is sat in the conference room, beating himself up over something that was not his fault because of your misplaced comment," Derek says. They have a killer to catch. There's no time to entertain this.

"I know. Thank you. For doing what the rest of us are too afraid to," Dave replies. Derek shifts uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze.

Something about the dynamic between the two men has changed, and everybody has noticed.

"Somebody has to," is all he can say, before he leaves Rossi to wash his hands and search for the man that had promised Aaron everything he could ever want, all those years ago when he first recruited him for the BAU.

There's an empty glass of water beside Hotch when Derek returns, and he's silently thankful that for once in his life, Aaron listened. He's deep in conversation with one of the police officers, so he refrains from making any comments, but when Aaron turns back towards the table, he goes over without a second thought.

He tells himself it's because he wants to know what happened just then. Because he wants to know whether or not they have any more information that can be used to their advantage. He tells himself it has nothing to do with the fact that learning about the case means he doesn't have to focus on the minute tremble of Hotch's hands. Doesn't have to see the hollow look in his eyes- a look of a man so defeated that he has no reason to try anymore.

The problem with being a profiler is that you rarely fall for anyone's bullshit- including your own.

“Did the officer have some additional information?” Derek asks.

Hotch hears him, obviously, but does not respond.

“Hotch,” he repeats.

“No. He didn’t. He wanted to know why you were holding my hands.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “And what did you say?”

“That ten days a man that managed to turn people that would never dare hurt another person into horrific killers drugged me, causing me to hallucinate the deaths of the same people that are solving his case for him, and as a result, I cannot always tell when things are real,” Aaron deadpans.

For a moment, Derek honestly can’t tell whether or not he’s joking. Then Aaron gives him the smallest smile, and he relaxes slightly. The last thing they need happening is officers spreading even more rumours about the types of cases the BAU work on.

He starts to reply with a joke of his own, then sees Aaron’s smile fade away like it was never there. He wonders how instinctive the action is- how many times was that little boy told he was too much, and how many times did he fade into the background like he didn’t even exist?

Without turning, he knows it’s Dave.

“I’m going to see if Spencer needs any help,” Derek says.

For a moment, it seems like Aaron is going to beg him to stay. But like most of his displays of humanity, it passes in a second, and then he simply nods, not even trying to fight.

“Aaron,” Dave says, walking over with purpose.

“Rossi don’t. Please,” Aaron pleads.

“What you did was stupid. But my actions were also uncalled for,” he says. It’s the closest he’ll ever get to a proper apology. Aaron accepts it because there’s not much else he can do. Dave pretends it’s going to fix everything because it’s the only thing that will get him through the case.

“Do you seriously think the fathers are to blame?” Hotch asks.

Rossi shakes his head. “Not anymore. I just needed to be sure.” He also needed to be sure that Aaron was fine, and given his response to Rossi’s accusation, he can’t say he’s convinced.

"Good," Aaron says, and the smile he gives Dave is so small and subtle, but so full of love, that for a single moment, the older profiler is able to convince himself that the fragile collection of skin and bones in front of him is still the hopeful boy that joined the unit. But then the moment passes and he's left feeling worse than before.

When the team come back, picking up on the cues that both Hotch and Rossi laid down, they go back to acting like nothing is wrong. Like the women in the photos are victims that deserve justice, and not the mirror of the same light they failed to save five years ago.

There are no breaks in the case, and they return to the hotel defeated and miserable. Budget problems mean they're doubling up. Part of Derek wants to switch rooms with Dave so he can keep an eye on Aaron, but the bigger part of him knows it would be a terrible idea, so he texts him saying that if he needs anything, no matter what time it is, he'll be available.

Aaron mouths the words thank you once he's read the message. Derek counts it as a win, and he tries to remain calm when Dave texts him saying that when he entered the shower- after Hotch- although the water dial was set to be normal, the water ran hot. Too hot.

He refrains from commenting the next morning, when Aaron clasps his glass of freezing water like a lifeline. In some ways, it is. And he knows what it's a sign of. He isn't sure whether it's caused by something in particular, or if he's just overwhelmed, but the hotel dining area- where Kate and Spencer would both hear- isn't the place to ask.

They get to the precinct, and it becomes clear that nobody there has slept. Another woman was found dead a few minutes before they got there. The father and son are sitting in the same conference room the BAU were working out of. For a moment, Aaron looks like he's going to kill the person that sent them there. The lead on the case quickly intercepts, saying they moved the boards and evidence files, and he relaxes slightly.

But before anyone can sleep, he removes his blazer and tie, before unbuttoning his top button and rolling his sleeves up. And then he walks into the conference room. Derek blinks, then it clicks. Aaron looks like a father. Someone both people sat in the room can trust. JJ hands him the information on the file, and his breathing stops for a moment.

The father and son could have been Aaron and Jack. If Aaron's eyes were darker and Jack's hair lighter, they would be the boys smiling in the photo provided with the file. He wants to take over the conversation Hotch must be having, but he finds himself rooted to the spot. How many cases are going to hit too close to home before Aaron gives up? Before it feels like every victim wears Haley's face?

How many more times can Aaron Hotchner look into the darkest parts of humanity before his hands stop going cold at crime scenes and Derek Morgan needs to take his place in some weird parallel of the events that occurred after Boston?

When the father and son leave the room, he jumps out of his chair and runs over.

"We will catch this man. And if you need anything, please don't hesitate to contact me," he hears Aaron say.

He sighs to himself.

The father shakes his hand and leaves, guiding his son with nothing more than a gentle hand to the back of his head. He sees Aaron swallow.

"You know you can't promise things like that," he chastises, not truly meaning it.

"It wasn't a promise. It was a guarantee," Hotch snaps.

Morgan simply raises an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry."

"Want to tell me about it?"

"I told him about Haley, and how I found her. And about how Jack was just down the hallway in my office- the one place in our home that my work touched, even if he never found it- so now he can't be alone on New Years or Independence Day. I only said it because he told me I didn't understand what it was like. To have to do that."

No amount of surgery is ever going to fix the hole in Aaron's heart that Haley's death created. They could plant seeds of love and watch them blossom into flowers of acceptance and fearlessness in every other part of his body, but that one area could never be touched.

Derek knows this. He's seen it before.So he doesn't offer any words, because there are none. Instead, he takes Aaron's arm and he squeezes the elbow. It is Aaron's non-verbal method of saying thank you. So in that moment, it can also be his.

Aaron isn't entirely sure why Derek is thanking him, but he learnt long ago that when someone said something, you didn't push. You accepted their words- whether they were kind declarations of love or as sharp as knives- and you moved on.

When Derek lets go of him, he walks back over to the team, feeling slightly lighter and infinitely more grounded.

Kate tells him another woman had been taken, and the weight he thought he'd been able to let go off settles on his chest like a death threat. There is a single moment where she worries that this will be the thing that causes him to fall off the edge of the cliff he's been standing on for far too long, but then he stands up properly and it's like nothing ever happened.

He doesn't sleep, instead pouring over the case file whilst Rossi gently snores beside him. If Jason had been with the team. he would've somehow realised that Hotch was still awake, and told him to go to sleep. And Hotch would've obeyed. But Jason wasn't with the team. He was dead. And sometimes that knowledge knocked Aaron off guard, so he stopped focusing on that and started concentrating on the woman.

Their break comes the next morning.

Garcia hasn't slept either, and between the two of them, they have a name and a location. Everyone piles into the cars, vests on and weapons ready, because even though nobody had said it, there was no way this is ending without at least one shot being fired.

The door to the building is unlocked, and they have their unsub surrounded within seconds. Hotch suddenly feels like a bucket of ice has been poured over him, causing him to freeze, and the blood to start pounding in his ears. Nothing feels real to him. He tightens the grip on his gun.

His name is Aaron Hotchner.

He is forty-four years old.

He is holding a gun because he is on a case.

The unsub is holding a knife to a woman's throat.

The woman looks just like Haley- no. He cannot think that. Not now.

"Let her go," JJ commands softly.

"No," their unsub says.

What is his name? And why can Aaron not remember his name?

"If you put that knife down, and let her go, we can tell the courts that you cooperated with us. That'll be nice, won't it?" Kate adds. Her tone is completely level. Calming in a way that it shouldn't be.

The unsub grins, then presses the knife even closer to his victim's throat. She lets out a terrified whimper and closes her eyes. He yanks her hair, forcing her to open then, and he seems pleased with himself.

"I don't care about the courts. I care about the man I'm doing all of this for. He's going to be great, and he's going to make me great too. Just you wait and see."

This wasn't part of the profile. There was never meant to be a more dominant partner. The control Aaron has been clinging to in order to get through this case is slowly slipping away with each piece of information he either cannot remember or is introduced to him.

"He? Who is he?" Spencer asks.

The man cocks his head. "Is it not obvious?"

Spencer shakes his head. "We're not like you. We need you to explain."

He nicks the skin slightly. Blood pools at the tip of the blade. Another digression from the previous pattern. No knives were ever used to cut the skin. The kills had been quick and clean. Why was everything changing?"

"I won't."

"The only way you get out of this alive is if you explain everything to us. Because this man, he won't make you great. Whoever he is, he only cares about himself. Not you. Certainly not your life. But we care about you. Just set the knife down," Derek says.

Aaron knows he needs to contribute, but he just can't do it. His tongue is like a useless knot in his mouth that he can't undo because his brain is twisted too.

"No," the man says, bringing it dangerously close to the woman's pulse.

"Aaron!" Derek shouts. "You're the only one with a clear shot. You need to take it. Or do something. Do you hear me? You are the only one that can do this. If he moves that knife, take the shot."

Aaron turns in the sound of the voice. Derek is telling him that he needs to take the shot, and he can see why. With the way they're stood, he is the only one that can possibly avoid hitting either the woman or another team member.

He raises his hands, ignoring how they tremble. Front sight. Trigger press. Follow through. Three steps that he has been following since his days at the Academy. Three steps that mean he has never missed. Never failed.

The man smirks.

Aaron turns to make sure nobody else will get hurt, or can take the shot. But when he looks at Derek, it's not Derek.

It's Peter Lewis.

"No," he whispers, but in the silence of the room, he may as well have shouted at the top of his voice.

He turns to look at the man, and he sees that he is about to shoot Derek Morgan. The one person that has never been afraid of him. The one man that is still good and undamaged by his hands. The one man that can and has led the team without any sort of assistance with him.

"Aaron!" Derek's voice exclaims, but he still wears Mr Scratch's face.

Aaron does not know what is real anymore, but he knows he needs to minimise the damage. The gun falls from his hands, with the safety off. It lands on the floor with a clatter that is too loud to his ears.

Their unsub laughs, once, and slits the woman's throat. She falls to the ground, dead by the time she hits the ground. Derek- real Derek, whose hands have always been warmer than his- fires his gun once. The unsub also falls to the ground with a shout.

Aaron closes his eyes.

He hears his name.

He tastes copper.

He touches his own hand, startled by the coldness.

He sees Derek's terrified face.

He smells sage.

He smells sage. And then the world goes black.

When he comes round, he does not know where he is. He does not know where the team is. He cannot ground himself in the moment or come up with five facts that prove his surroundings are real.

He opens his eyes. The team is gone.

And he is covered in blood.

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