#not worn down by it all ( or so it seems C; ) n remain tender towards the world

[hwaitham]

⸝⸝ ˙˳ ⑅ first piece of marginalia ( of many , hopefully :3 ) about eremite!al haitham && akademiya student!reader ♥︎ f!reader + not proofread + subtly implied trauma on both reader n haitham's end

you first meet the eremite who's to serve as your bodyguard throughout your research expedition on the day of your departure, at your designated meeting spot under the pavilion in pardis dhyai. its stone pillars cascade with vines of sumeru roses that shine a sweet lavender hue under the morning sun— one of which you've plucked and tucked into your hair earlier, leaning over the railing to gaze at your reflection in the pond and smile at the beauty of it.

(and a petal which has unknowingly slipped off and fallen to rest ever so delicately within the dip of your clavicle.)

“al haitham, yes? um, hello!” you greet the eremite as he walks into the pavilion with a quiet waver to your voice, bow respectfully, try to still the timid pitter-patters of your heart that only seem to worsen the longer you're in his presence.

because this man standing before you is large— tall, broad, as stunning as the pale blue moon. his upper body is strapped with tough sinew and yet his waist remains lean, torso mostly bare save for the pashmina shawl draped about his neck and the worn leather holster slung across his chest.

and he's silent. offering you only a small bow in return before giving you a quick once over, gait unhurried as he takes one, two long strides to stand by your side. it's an arduous task to bring yourself to look up at his face, but you do— lips parting in awe when you realise he's unlike any other desert eremite you've met before.

the trimmed red silk tied around his head shelters only one of his eyes.

how interesting, you think to yourself, for what you know of desert eremites is that they are convinced all things betray, even their own sight.

you bite your tongue to stop the questions that bubble and ebb at the forefront of your throat from tumbling past your lips, the innate scholarly need to learn and dissect and digest and know. a surprised little squeak escapes you instead when he turns his head and catches you staring, meeting your curious eyes with technicoloured cyan.

“is something the matter?”

“no, not at all! i'm sorry, i didn't mean to stare,” you flush hot under the intensity of his gaze, play with the flouncy sleeve of your blouse while you giggle nervously. you're unsure whether it's his size, or his beauty, or his quiet dominance that makes you feel much more shy than you'd like to feel, far too giddy— as if you're a little girl back in grade school.

“alright. shall we get going then? we're losing daylight with each second that passes.” al haitham holds a hand out in front of you, waiting expectantly.

you tilt your head in confusion and pout. what's he asking for? a tip? your hand?

“your bags?” he heaves a sigh, rests his other hand on his hip. you feel a hint of irritation in his words, and your heart wilts a little, “did you want me to carry them?”

“oh!” you exclaim in realisation before hoisting your travel bags further up your shoulders, force a reassuring smile on your lips. “it's okay, i couldn't possibly ask that of you. i can handle it myself, really!”

that couldn't be further from the truth, and al haitham sees right through it, with your shoulders hunched forward from the leaden weight of your bags slung atop them, the wince in your step as you walk towards the pathway, how you nearly topple over when you lose the slightest bit of balance.

“hey,” he pinches his brow, a certain roughness in his voice when he calls out to you that withers into something more gentle, tender after you turn to look at him. sweet and innocent and dewy-eyed. like a flower too frail, one whose stem may snap clean off if looked at the wrong way. “let me take them.”

al haitham doesn't allow you to protest, swiftly lifting your bags from your shoulders and holding onto them with ease, their weight nothing compared to what he's had to endure throughout the entirety of his life.

“it's my job to take care of you these next few weeks, and i intend to do it well.” he walks ahead of you, the longer mint strands of his hair swaying with the wind, the air around him lifting into something lighter— even if it's only by the most minute amount. “besides, you'll tip me generously if i do, won't you?"

his voice lilts mischievously, and you can only bring yourself to watch on in awe. nerves melting into excitement, cheeks warming not from timidness, but anticipation of what lies ahead in the next month— for your research, yes, but also for something closer to your heart.

a companion, a friend.

you smile a smile that reaches far past your eyes, bounding up to him with those clumsy fawn legs as you try to match his pace. two of your steps for one of his own. “of course i will, thank you so, so much! and i'll do my best to keep from making trouble for you— it'll make your job easier too, i hope!”

al haitham hesitates for a brief moment when you thank him so earnestly, so wholeheartedly, so unlike any of the other scholars he'd been commissioned to act as a guard for. with your smile so cloyingly sweet and your kindness so childishly naive, he can't help but feel a bit grim.

how much violence did it take for you to become this gentle?

the faintest of smiles— honeysuckle soft— curls up on his lips and he gives your head a single pat, sweeps the spare rose petal off of your clavicle, quietly wonders what he's gotten himself into by accepting this commission.

“silly girl. come, let's get going.”

#haitham ❤︎ #&(*^&@)*(&& hieeee ! ! omgeeb so 🥺 this is how i imagine reader n haitham to meet in this au . . #i rllie like imagining alhaitham w someone who is more . . . gentle n naive n almost timid ?? like despite all The Horrors they are still #not worn down by it all ( or so it seems C; ) n remain tender towards the world #bcos . as we know . alhaitham is . . not exactly that . he is much more guarded n cautious after experiences frm his own life #+ also seeing what happens to others #so putting him with his ' diametric antithesis ' jus sounds rllie precious in my eyes 🥺🥺 #how they cn learn frm each other ! show each other something they've never seen before 🥺 #maybe fall a little in love in the process . . . WAAAH #anws :3 anywhosies :3 this is what this au is all about :3 n i hope ! ! ! i hope #if / when i continue to post lil blurbs about it #this is what u envision too :3 #WAH ! #um um um ! ! 🥺 if u like this au or wnt to see more of it . . . then may i selfishly ask u to interact with this post ?? #even a like is fine ! ! or u can tell me too ! #'s just to gauge interest bcos rn i dont weally knowwww if anyone is interested in this besides like . #Me ><

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

S.T. REWRITE - S2:E9; Chapter Nine, The Gate - [Pt. 1]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

The survivors turn up the heat on the monstrous force that's holding Will hostage, and Y/n's powers are put to the ultimate test in the process. Eleven makes plans to finish what she started.

A/n: heads up, another ask the characters is coming up at the end of this book so if you plan on asking questions relevant to the plot I do ask you hold off until the rest of this episode. If you have just simple or silly non-plot related stuff I guess I don't mind taking them here 😊 thx for reading!

Also, the El/Dustin/Lucas reunion [and friendship tbh] is criminally underappreciated and always makes me cry happy tears. Same with El and Joyce. Always broke me, always will. Duffers, give me more. Also, Max blushed in this scene, and yall can @ me I don't care, but it happened.

||3rd Person POV||

Their feet shakily carry them across the floor to each other. Their hearts both stop as they gaze one another, both in their own unique form of shock.

"Eleven." Mike's voice barely tumbles out in a strained whisper.

Her smile grows bright at the sound of her name on his tongue, a sound she had missed all these months.

"Mike!" She gasps tearfully, and they collapse into a tender hug.

For a moment they relish in one another's embrace, not caring they have to stumble for balance as they cling to one another. More sniffles and tearful gasps spill from their lips as the others look on in a mixture of sadness and excitement filled shock.

Apart from Max, who's brows furrow above her widened eyes as she leans in close to Lucas in a whisper.

"Is that...?"

Dustin and Lucas nod silently, still in as much disbelief as the collective few.

Finally, but all too soon for the pair, Mike and El break apart.

"I never gave up on you," Mike swears. "I called you every night. Every night for--"

"353 days." She finishes softly, drawing out another look of shock on the boy. "I heard."

Despite the small but taunting thought that had always lingered in the back of her mind that told her otherwise, he does not get mad. He merely tilts his head in confusion.

"Why didn't you tell me you were there?" He asks gently. "That you were okay?"

Before she can form a proper sentence, Hopper speaks up from where he had previously stood rooted to the ground.

"Because I wouldn't let her."

Mike swivels on his heels to find Hopper looking back at him, solemnly. Mike stumbles back agape as Hopper glides forward, and gestures in waining and worn down stress over the girl.

"The hell is this?" He grumbles softly, relief flooding his voice. "Where the hell you been?"

"Where have you been?" She spits back, in an equally sounding failed attempt at anger.

His gun hangs limply at his side as he takes El into his embrace, who gladly accepts by coiling her arms around his large frame in content.

"You've been hiding her," Mike gasp gravely. "You've been hiding her this whole time!"

Everyone flinches as the Wheeler boy launches an unexpected attack on the chief. He jumps forward, throwing his weight into his arms as he shoves the man.

"Hey!"

He turns, knowing the fight this boy is going to attempt and grabs at his shirt to steady him. Mike fights against his effort briefly, but he can't hide the spark of fear in his eyes as Hopper towers over him.

Hidden amongst the stunned group, Y/n shuffles on her feet nervously as she witnesses the strength of Mike's wrath. And yet, numbly, her feet carry her forward to accept the damning sentence she always knew would befall her. Her guilt had grown thrice its size in the brief moments of Mike and El's reunion and she can keep the secret no longer.

Weakly, she tugs Mike away from the chief in half-hearted protest.

"Mike,"

Her voice comes out in a wavering and cracking demand and she has to try again to be heard over his cries of protest.

"Mike!"

Finally, he, rips his attention -and arm - away from Hopper's hold, and whips his head to snap at her. Her hand remains wrapped around his sleeved arm as if hoping her gentle touch will soften the blow. But even she knows it not make a difference.

"What?"

Her eyes flicker from him to Hopper and El in a frightened manner.

"What?!" He demands. "You can't seriously be defending him?! He hid her from us! He knew!"

The words she ached to say died on her tongue, though she knew now she didn't have to tell him. Her e/c eyes went glassy, her bottom lip began to quiver and his eyes suddenly shifted.

"No," he whispers, eyes jumping from El's new attire to towards hers as he shakes his head. The pieces had fallen into place. "No, you wouldn't...?"

"I'm so sorry, I-"

He rips his arm away from her in disgust and cradles it against his chest. The small act creates another crack in her heart as he looks at her in fury and loathing. Will already looked at her like this, and now Mike, too.

"What the hell is wrong with you people?!" He demands, glare flying between Hopper and Y/n. "What is wrong with you?!"'

"Mike, I wanted to tell you--"

"BUT YOU DIDN'T!" His anger is now fully directed at Y/n. "YOU DIDN'T TELL ME!"

It's Hopper's turn to tug Mike away from Y/n, but again, Mike violently rips himself away.

"It wasn't safe!" Y/n pleads.

"Bullshit!" Mike shoved the girl in front of him away.

"Mike-!" El interjects.

In his anger, Mike doesn't seem register her pleas. All of his attention - and pain - directed soley on Y/n.

She stumbled back, not surprised at such a harsh response but she tries to stay calm for the sake of everyone around her. Her hands begin to darken as heat bubbles to the surface.

"I can't believe you, Y/n!" A fresh batch of tears welled in his eyes but he dismissed hers. Unable to care.

He shakes his head, not knowing why he even bothers to ask but it slips out in a dark whisper. "How long have you known?"

Y/n takes a long, shaky deep breath. Her voice quivers as she speaks.

"The day Dart escaped, and... and right before the Mind Flayer got Will on the field."

His face twists into a bitter scowl. "Five days? You've known for five days?!"

"And it's been killing me, Mike! But she said it would keep you safe!"

"Killing you?! It's been killing you?! You think I give a shit? YOU LIED-!"

He storms after her again, ready to shove her but his hands never reach her shoulders. Her body tenses as he charges and a small, involuntary burst of energy explodes around her, protecting her.

He falls back in a yelp of pain, Hopper is able to catch the boy before he reaches the ground and everyone watching - those especially who hadn't previously known about Y/n's abilities - flinched in shock. Several items around her within a two-foot radius shook and even tumbled off the shelves and tables. Y/n looks at everyone and then back at Mike in a worried glance.

"Mike, are you okay? I didn't mean--"

"Get off me!" He swats at her outstretched hand and she flinches.

Hopper's fuse runs out and his voice comes out in a thunderous bark.

"Hey, hey! Alright!" He discards the gun against the wall. "ENOUGH!"

The two bickering friends falter at the volume of the man's voice and stumble back when he reaches for them. A firm hand on either of their shoulders, he looks them in the eye with a scowl.

"Enough." he seethes, prying Mike off of Y/n and begins pushing him in the direction of Jonathan's room. "Let's talk. Alone."

Everyone watches in surprise as the two storm off down the hall, now stewing in the shock of all that has unfolded in the past few minutes alone. El shuffles on her feet, her eyes trailing two of the three people she cares of most as they disappear down the hall, unable to shake the stress of her situation and the harm it inflicts on everyone.

"Protecting her! Protecting her?" Mike fumes.

"Now, Mike--"

"You guys really expect me to forget the fact that you two blatantly lied to my face that she was alive?"

"Mike--"

"For a whole year?!"

"ENOUGH!"

Mike's eyes widen suddenly in shock, it dissolves quickly but his anger does not. Hopper sighs, bringing a hand to rub at his eyes before shrugging at the kid with a hardened expression.

"You are going to listen to me, and you're gonna listen to me good. I kept her from you,"

He says to Mike admittedly, then gestures in the direction of the living room.

"and so did Y/n. And that sucks. I get it kid, but you have no idea what kind of consequences you and your family and anyone - including your friend -," he points to the door again, still seething with anger. "face just knowing she's alive. It is an IMMEDIATE and PERMANENT target on your back."

"Oh, what so I should be THANKING you?"

"I'm not asking you to thank me!" Hopper screams back, voice, and fuse straining. "I'm asking you to try and understand!"

"I don't! I don't understand!"

"That's fine. That's fine! Just do not blame her, she's upset enough as it is."

"I don't blame her! I blame you! I blame you!"

"That's fine, kid." Hopper spits through a fake smile, and he throws his arms up in surrender "That's okay. In fact, blame me for all of it. El, your friend, even this damn Mind Flayer, or whatever the hell else you can think of. That's okay with me, but--"

"NO! Nothing about this is okay! Nothing about this is okay!" Mike launches another attack on Hopper who stumbles back.

He eases his arms out, trying to calm the kid down. But Mike does not relent. All of his heartbreak and misery since the moment she disappeared in the cloud of ashes, to every moment of radio silence with his walkie. It all erupted out of him and he charged at Hopper, swinging punches left and right into his gut until he was backed up at the door.

"You're a stupid, disgusting-"

"Okay. All right!"

"-lying piece of shit!"

"Stop it! Stop it-"

Hopper makes a grab at the boy's arms, trying to calm him down.

"LIAR! LIAR! LIAR!"

"It's okay. Stop it!"

As he had with the Will just minutes ago, Hopper wraps his arms around the boy in a hug. And though Mike continues to cry out, his efforts against Hopper begin to weaken before fading out altogether.

"Liar! Liar! Liar!"

Mike is now collapsed into Hopper's chest and allows his cries to drain him completely. His tears streak his pinkened cheeks and stain Hopper's coat. All frustration with Mike evaporates completely and all that's left beneath is the fatherly instincts he had never let go of. He holds him tighter against his chest and lays his right hand on Mike's head with his chin buried in his hair.

"You're okay, kid." He whispers. "You're okay."

Mike's whimpers disappear into Hopper's chest though they still manage to coat the silence. Hopper holds the boy tighter, his hands rested gently against his shoulders and he whispers once more.

"I'm sorry, kid."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

After their disappearance down the hall, El gladly found herself in the embrace of Lucas and Dustin. Like Mike and Y/n, they looked the same apart from the inevitable touch of time she noticed. They had approached her timidly, but each wore similar blinding grins. El has trouble battling a smile at them and to their surprise, she eagerly launched into a hug that they gladly accepted.

"We missed you," Lucas says.

"I missed you, too," she murmurs contently.

"We talked about you pretty much every day," Dustin says, and her small smile returns.

She pulls away to look at them, but her soft brown eyes widen when she notices Dustin's smile. Curiously, she reaches out to Dustin, poking her finger at his mouth as he pulls back confused.

"Teeth," she says.

"What?"

"You have teeth,"

Dustin and Lucas share a chuckle through their still matching grins. Dustin nods, smiling extra bright to show off his new set of teeth.

"Oh. You like these pearls?"

Dustin rolls his tongue in a purr, and El's eyes grow wide as saucers in concern. Lucas and Dustin chuckle in response. They had indeed missed their friend very much, especially her confusion and shock to most regular things.

"El?"

The boys parted for Max who approached her with a shy and eager smile.

"Hey, um," she blushed, extending her hand. "I'm Max. I've heard a lot about you."

El recognized now why the redhead was so familiar, and her gaze flickered to her outstretched hand. That small flame of jealously in the pit of her stomach licked at her heart again. Intentionally ignoring the gesture of the girl and the girl herself, she pushed past her, bumping her shoulder with Max. Max's blush darkened, this time in embarrassment and she looked at the floor in hurt.

El was more focused on the woman she had spotted across the room. The first adult to ever put El needs before anyone else, even if it meant finding her son would be next to impossible. The first person to ever treat and care for her as she was, not a weapon, but a child deserving of love and nurturing. The woman who now stood across the room with tears in her eyes, a quivering smile and arms open wide as if she was her own daughter.

She collapsed in Joyce's warm embrace and no sooner did they both burst into tears. El melted in her gentle and soothing touch, and an audible whimper escaped her when she felt Joyce's palms rub small and gentle circles in her back.

It was the cozy and safe motherly embrace she had longed for all her life.

"Hey," Joyce coos softly in her ear. "Hey, sweetheart."

Another small cry bubbles out of her mouth and for a moment she feels embarrassed for wetting Joyce's jacket, but Joyce doesn't seem to care. She pulls apart from El and strokes her cheek and hair lovingly. Instinctively, scanning the girls face for any signs of injury.

"Hey," she coos again, and El sniffles.

"Is he okay?" She whispers.

Joyce tilts her head, a crooked but sweetened smile forming at El's worry, and her thumb strokes her cheek one last time.

"It's not looking good, sweetie." El's face falls at the answer, and she fears she got here too late. Her eyes pick up again and begin scanning the room when she realizes her greetings aren't done.

Her eyes land on Y/n across the room who had fallen silent after her encounter with Mike. She was far in the corner, her hand picks at the ends of her sleeves and she looked up cautiously at El.

El turns and crosses the room to her best friend.

"Y/n..."

Y/n's eyes flutter around the room briefly, all too aware of the prying ears. Cautiously, her old name slips out. "El..."

For a moment they stew in silence, not knowing what to say and the others watch befuddled at their behavior. By now they know that Y/n had discovered El's survival, but that was all they knew. But seeing them together now, both dressed in similar bold outfits they were able to piece together the two had spent some time together in the past few days. Particularly, the rest of the party.

"You came back," Y/n muttered, surprised.

"I saw everyone in danger," El answered. "I had to come home."

Y/n's eyebrows twitched ever so at the word before frowning. Her eyes flicker behind El briefly at the others, to see if they were listening. To her relief, she saw Joyce send her an understanding smile before pulling the others away into the kitchen.

"I thought you were home. With your sister. Someone who understands you," Her words came out more bitter than she anticipated but she makes no effort to take it back.

"She does, Y/n. What it was like there... Something you won't ever understand."

A look of hurt flashed across Y/n's face and her eyes take her somewhere else. Anywhere that wasn't El. She didn't want her to see how upset she was.

"But that is good." She says gently, causing Y/n's eyes to flicker back at her before returning to the floor. "It was a bad place, and... it was not your fault."

Y/n now looks back at El, her brows still creased in a frown but at least she was showing she was listening.

"How I grew up. I don't blame you."

The Henderson girl's expression softened, but her frown still lingered. She seems to consider her words, and then her attention falls to the inside of her jacket. She begins digging inside and finally she pulls out the files. The words Missing Experiment scribbled on the front. El's stomach sinks, her lips creasing together in a nervous habit.

"Then why did you keep this from me? You know that I've been searching for answers, and you had them with you that whole time! Why?"

El shifts on her feet, and when she speaks she mentally scorns herself for her wavering voice.

"I was afraid."

Y/n shakes her head with a somber and disappointed look. "Afraid of what, Jane?"

Tears started to brim in El's eyes now, not only at her mistake and the guilt it brought but the sound of her name on Y/n's tongue. It didn't feel right. Jane didn't feel right. Not anymore.

She licks her lips nervously, before answering.

"That you would leave. That once you had them... you'd go back home and I... wouldn't be able to see you again."

"El-" Y/n stops, sighing at the floor as she shakes her head. Still not used to the name. She looks back to her friend. "Jane. I wouldn't do that. You're my friend, and I wanted to help you. I did help you!"

"The truck," El threw back with a quirked brow.

Surprisingly enough, Y/n felt a weak chuckle bubble up.

"There's a very good reason why I didn't want us to ride in a truck. But I told you, we could have found another way! A safer way,"

Why is Y/n so afraid of trucks? El wondered.

"All I'm trying to say, Jane, is that I wouldn't have turned around and left as soon as I got what I was looking for. Friend's don't do that. I wanted to find out about myself, sure, but I wanted to help you, too." Y/n explains in sad exasperation. "I wouldn't have just left you..."

"But... you did?" El asks confused.

"Because they said they wanted to get rid of me!"

El looked taken aback.

"That's what I was trying to tell you. They didn't want me there and they were going to get rid of me. Besides, I asked and you said you were going to stay... You understand why I couldn't, right?"

El nods looking to the floor. She takes a deep breath and looks back at Y/n, searching her eyes. She feels a tug at her heart.

"I'm sorry, Y/n."

The ends of Y/n's lips twitch into a soft smile. She inches forward, and for a moment El fears something bad will happen. Like Y/n will shake her head and leave. But she's delighted to find how wrong she was when Y/n pulls her into a hug.

"I'm sorry, too." She whispers.

Both girls begin to sniffle, drawing the attention of the others who had previously parted into their own conversations to give them some space. After a moment, they pull away.

"So," Y/n says, offering a hopeful grin. "friends?"

El felt as if all the weight she had held on her shoulders vanished, and something the girls both noticed now was a much stronger bond forming before their very eyes. This bond was only established and sealed forever by what El said next.

"Sisters."

They smiled brightly at one another, and El's quickly melted into a shy smirk.

"El." She says finally.

Y/n's expression fell into that of a confused frown.

"Huh?"

"El. Not Jane," she looks to the floor sadly before muttering. "Never was."

Y/n's lips molded into a sympathetic smile, and the pair met in another hug. El felt the warmth return, the warmth that had disappeared the morning Y/n had back in Chicago when Y/n mumbled contently into her ear.

"I'm really glad you're back, El."

They break apart, a soft look echnaged between one another with grins to match.

"Me too," El mutters.

Suddenly El's smile fell. It was replaced with a shocked look, and she turned to look between Y/n and where Joyce had dissapeared, the panic setting in.

"Will!" She says in a worried realization. "Can... I see him?"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

El opens the door slowly to ease its creaking, and timidly she steps inside. Joyce and Y/n follow closely behind as El approaches Jonathan's bed that holds a sleeping Will. El kneels beside the sleeping boy, Joyce, and Y/n taking a seat on either side of the bed. El watches his chest steadily rise and fall, and she notes he is just as pale and weakened as he had been the last time she saw him in the void.

"H-He's not doing well," Joyce eases.

El hesitantly places a hand on his bedside, and she feels a small lump in her throat.

"I know," she mutters sadly. "I saw,"

Joyce and Y/n look to her in slight surprise.

"What else did you see?" Joyce asks.

El looks between her friend and Joyce, sadly. Her stomach begins to coil into several knots, and her hands began to clam up at the question. El recognizes the feeling all too well, it was the same feeling she'd get whenever she had to get into the bath. Or when Papa made her repeat words from men in different rooms, or when he asked her to hurt the poor cat. It was a feeling she had almost every second she was inside that lab, the room, or any time Papa was near. It was an awful sickly feeling, but as she looked at Will now, she knew.

It had to be done.

She knew what she had to do.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

El stood before the Byers kitchen table with Joyce and Y/n. Her eyes bore into the back of the notepad where the two words that sparked this dark feeling inside her were scribbled out in red.

CLOSE GATE

Y/n's eyes widen when she sees their translation for the first time. It dawned on her what Will had been telling them, and she recalls what El had tearfully admitted at the quarry just one year ago.

"The gate," she mumbles.

A look of realization hits Joyce, and she points to it eagerly. "You opened this gate before, right?"

El looks up and off to the distance, stuffing down her last bit of hesitation and she answers in a hoarse whisper.

"Yes,"

"Do you think you think if we got you back there, that you could close it?" Y/n looks worriedly back at El. The task was no doubt a large one for El to handle all alone, and though she knew it was likely their only hope, it made her fear for her.

What would happen to her? But then a simple thought crosses her mind, perhaps from the smaller corner of her mind that wanted to provide assurance and she asked herself.

It was just a gate right, surely it couldn't be that big?

Right?

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Black Lives still and always will matter! Please do what you can!

Text “ENOUGH” to 55156 or sign this petition to demand justice for Breonna Taylor

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Sign the Movement for Black Lives' petition to push elected officials to fight against the militarization in communities of color:

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+++

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#stranger things #stranger things rewrite #will byers x reader #reader insert #stranger things 2 #y/n henderson #will byers #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #mike wheeler #el hopper #max mayfield #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #joyce byers #jim hopper #cosmic #cosmic 2 #the gate

[percywinchester27]

Silences

Pairing: Dean X Reader

Warnings: All the Fluff. It’s straight up fluff!

Word count: 1600-ish

Summary: Not all stories are written with words. Some are written in silences.

A/N: this is for @supernatural-jackles ’s birthday challenge. 

Happy Birthday Darling!! If you are not following Jen, let me tell you, you are making the biggest ever! She is awesome. I hope you have you have a birthday as amazing as you babe <3 I love you!

beta’d by the talented @thing-you-do-with-that-thing. Thank you for doing this on such a short notice, Kari. *attack hugs* Thank you for putting up with me!

Words were overrated, Dean thought as he watched her arranging and rearranging the books on the shelf. She had been going at it for hours, organizing all the books according to her catalogue, then giving a derogatory grunt and pulling them all out. She would then sit cross legged on the floor and re-design the catalogue before starting all over again. Dean couldn’t help but let his eyes wander, taking in her beautiful form, the graceful arch of her neck, and the inherent beauty of her smile. The library had remained a mess all day long, but Dean always found a way to be a company to her, silently.

He would get his entire arsenal from the trunk of baby and clean every gun part by part, meticulously, while she worked. Occasionally their eyes would meet and she would smile shyly, turning away too soon, and Dean couldn't help the grin that spread across his own lips in answer to hers.

It was a quiet companionship, punctuated not with words, but even more silences.

In fact, their relationship was woven out of these silences, from the day he had first laid eyes on her, till now. Dean suspected it would always be like that for them. He still remembered that day with perfect clarity even though it was three years ago. The werewolf attack; how he and Sam had made it just in time to save Y/N, while the bodies of her family were strewn around them. It had taken a lot of convincing from both of them for her to finally agree to spend a few nights at the bunker with them. Dean had done everything that he could to reassure her that they would never let anything happen to her, that he would never let anything happen to her.

Later that evening, during the drive back to the bunker, she woken up screaming in the Impala. Dean had crossed over to the backseat where she had been sleeping, and gently pulled her to his chest while she cried herself back to sleep.

He hadn't tried to soothe her with words, because there was nothing to say. He knew better than anyone that anything he had to say, wouldn't mean a thing while her pain was fresh.

She had kept to herself those first couple of days in the bunker. Both he and Sam had let her be, allowing her the time to cope with it.

Between the two brothers, Y/N always kept closer to Dean, choosing to sit next to him when she made it out of her room during dinner time, or using his over large shirts when she dressed for bed. It didn’t bother Dean. If anything, the effect was opposite, and he couldn’t help but wonder why.

It wasn't until one night a few days after, that Dean felt the covers over his body being pushed aside as the bed dipped behind him and cool hands steadied themselves on to his shoulder as her soft body pressed into his back. Y/N was shivering, and shaking violently. He immediately turned onto his other side to pull her flush against his body, and her shaking became more violent for a while before it slowly subsided. Hesitantly she slipped her cold fingers underneath the hem of his shirt and pressed them to the warm skin of his stomach.

Dean wanted more than anything to push her back a little to be able to see her beautiful eyes, to guess what she was thinking, but as her fingers became bolder under his shirt, she hid her face further into the chest. Dean understood, so he did not question. Instead, he pulled her closer, running his hand up and down her back, hoping that the chaffing would stop the shivering. He entangled her feet with his, and soon the trembling and the chattering of teeth stopped, replaced by the noise of her soft snores.

Dean didn't get much sleep that night. He was so worried that even his smallest movements would jostle her out of her restless sleep, that he stayed awake till the early hours of the morning. When sleep finally came to him, he tightened his arms around her, letting the rhythmic beat of her heart lull him into unconsciousness.

The other side of his bed was empty when he woke up the next day, and Dean rushed through the bunker, searching for her, afraid that he might have overstepped a line. The sweet voice of laughter from the kitchen however stopped him in his tracks. When he followed the direction of the voice, he found both Y/N and Sam laughing over a broken jar of jam.

There was a different light in her eyes. She seemed happy, for the first time in so many days. When she saw Dean, her eyes slid down, and a beautiful blush colored her cheeks. That was the moment Dean knew he was done for. There would be no going back for him now. He walked towards them and took a seat opposite to her, his eyes never leaving her Y/E/C ones. She shyly slid the plate full of bacon towards him, and that was it. The night was never mentioned.

It was over week since then, when it happened again. Dean sat up the moment he heard the door to his room creak. Y/N stood there, her face streaked with tears, unsure of whether or not to come inside, when she noticed that he was awake. Dean spread his arms for her, nodding reassuringly and she launched herself into his arms, burying her face there and crying to her heart's content. Both of them had fallen asleep like that. Dean rested his back against the headboard, while Y/N curled up in his lap.

The next morning, Dean woke up first. Her hair was sticking out in all directions, clinging to his shirt, his throat, but there was peaceful expression on her face. Dean nuzzled his face in her hair, inhaling deeply. There was no denying that he was in love. She stirred, and he stilled as she slowly disentangled herself, looking him right in the eye. There was that shy smile again, the one that refused to leave his mind.

She unhurriedly moved out of his lap, her eyes never once leaving his, and kissed him on his cheek. Dean could have stayed in that moment forever. With one last smile she was out of door, leaving him to gather his wits which were scattered all around.

Y/N did all those special things for them that no one ever had. There was a cake for Sam's birthday and a pie for Dean's. There was always good food in the kitchen and freshly laundered sheets in the bedrooms. Sam sang songs of praises for her, but all Dean had to offer were silences. Silences infused with love filled glances and flirty smiles. He never said that thanks and she never asked for one. She didn’t need it.

After grueling hunts, when Dean was so messed up that even Sam's hands shook while patching up the wounds, her gentle ones would replace his and tend to the cuts with tender stitches. She would busy herself in carefully patching him up while he would busy himself in looking at her. Sometimes she would falter and a wince would escape Dean involuntarily. Y/N's eyes would fill up immediately and all Dean wanted to do was kiss away the tears, wishing he had not winced at all.

It didn't surprise him anymore when he found her dozing at the foot of his bed the next morning, too afraid to climb in with him, but too worried to leave him alone. Dean would silently climb out and sit next to her, before waking her with feather light kisses on her brow and tip of the nose. She never said anything, but he knew she loved them.

Y/N would sit for hours in the bunker garage, watching as Dean tuned up baby. She would drag a blanket and a book, and sit by him while he worked. Even if his back was towards her, Dean always knew when Y/N was watching him instead of the book. He'd be damned if he said he didn't put up a bit of a show.

So that's what he wondered now, as he saw her stretching on the tip of her toes to reach a book on the top shelf. Her tank top hitched just a little to reveal an inch of smooth skin above the waistband of her shorts. Was she putting on a show? Dean couldn't be completely sure that she wasn't.

When Y/N turned around, Dean didn't make an effort to turn away. He wanted to be caught staring at her. And for once, instead of blushing and looking away, Y/N held his gaze. There was no question of him looking away. Slowly but deliberately she made her way towards him, and placed her soft hand on his worn one, effectively making him drop the barrel of the gun he was cleaning.

Dean looked up from their entwined finger into her warm, beautiful eyes, and every other thought but her went flying out of his head.  

She was looking him right in his eyes, and the look in them was enough to make him forget everything, make his insides melt. As she inched closer and closer Dean couldn't help the contented sigh that left his lips, the breath fanning her face for a fraction of a second, before she captured them in a fiery kiss. Her lips were soft and pliant, but the passion could have set the room on fire. Dean would be lying if he said he had never imagined kissing her. On the contrary, he had done a lot of that, but this was better than anything his mind could ever conjure.

When she pulled away, there was a certainty in her smile, one that he was sure was reflected in his. Those three words were never said, but the silence was between them was filled with a love so profound, that nothing needed to be said. Words, Dean thought again as he pressed his lips to hers once more, were so overrated.

Please tell me how this was? I could really use all the feedback!

Dean Darlings:

@coyotesmate @sdavid09 @grace-for-sale @kas-not-cas @bellastellaluna @thing-you-do-with-that-thing  @mamapeterson @supernatural-jackles @jotink78 @arryn-nyxx @dustycelt @justacinnamonroll @plainoldblogs @tankcupcakes @maddieburcham1 @impandagrl @thevioletthourr @charliebradbury1104 @plaidstiel-wormstache @melonberri @donnaintx @duckieburns @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @thebitterbookeater @mrswhozeewhatsis @feelmyroarrrr @meeshw777 @sandlee44 @supernaturalham  @mogaruke @freekryptonitecloud @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @captainemwinchester @tmccarney @crystallstaircase @rhapsody-in-flannel @growningupgeek @laurenisnot @ohgodwhybloggg @i-just-wanna-live-gc @gabavaldman @torn-and-frayed @lavieenlex @you-didnt-see-that-cuming @bringmesomepie56 @akshi8278 @thedevilinthedetails @raventonks19 @sonofabitch-spn @mayasmedberg @escabell @kathaswings @missdestiel67 @naadestiel @brihughes4 @docharleythegeekqueen @luna-plena-venandi @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @deanssweetheart23 @adaliamalfoy @maui137 @superwholockmarauder @livelovelike555 @winchesterprincessbride @prairiebirdie @its-my-perky-nipples @dustycelt @supernatural-girl97 @iamnotsaneatall @aiaranradnay @escabell @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @therewillbeblood @lucifer-is-an-angel @anokhi07 @silver-and-green @bemyqueenofdarkness @liveyourlifemeraki @spn67-sister @redunicorn10

 @bakabozza @kathaswings @samdean-67

#dean winchester x reader fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester reader insert #reader x dean #spn fanfiction #dean fluff #dean winchester fanfiction #dean fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #Ana writes Dean #anawrites #anawritesspn #silences

[lifesizehysteria]

Cancelled - An AdamsFoster Fic

“It’s our wedding anniversary” requested by @shaloved30

A/N: So much for a mini-fic. This turned into a bit of a beast and wanted to go in about four different directions before I was able to wrangle it all into one cohesive idea. Also, I’ve never written a text conversation before so I tried to format it in a way that was clear. Hopefully everyone can make sense of it. Enjoy!

Lena’s phone lit up with a text from Stef, the buzz distracting her from her paperwork. She swiped to open it.

Can’t make it tonight. Mandatory training. I already asked Cptn if I could make it up. She said no. I’m sorry.❤️

Lena’s heart sank. She sent back a reply and then added another for good measure.

       But it’s our wedding anniversary. 

       Our first wedding anniversary.

She watched the little gray dots blink on her screen while Stef wrote her reply.

I know. I’m sorry love. There’s nothing I can do.

Lena dropped back against her office chair as disappointment settled over her.

       It’s fine. I’ll just cancel our dinner reservation.

Maybe they can reschedule for later this month.

       I’ll ask.

Lena set her phone on the desk and sighed. There was no way they were getting another reservation any time soon. She had made their reservations at Addison’s almost four months ago and she’d been lucky to get a table on the date of their anniversary then. Her phone buzzed against the hard wood of her desk.

I know it’s a long shot but maybe we’ll get lucky.

       Maybe

I’m sorry Lena. I know you really wanted to go there.

Guilt crept in over Lena’s annoyance. Getting mad at Stef wasn’t fair, even if it was easy. 

       It’s not your fault. We’ll just go somewhere else this weekend.❤️

As long as I get to spend an evening looking at your gorgeous face I’ll be happy.

Lena smiled down at her wife’s reply. Stef could charm the pants off of her when she wanted to. Which she had, of course. Many times.

      😊 😍

       I’ll call around after work and find somewhere.

Thanks love.

I’ll see you when I get home tonight. Love you. 😘

       I love you too.

Lena set her phone aside and settled back into her work. Her lingering disappointment colored the rest of her day. Without their dinner plans to look forward to, time seemed to drag on. By the time she was able to head home, she had resigned herself to the evening ahead. At least she wouldn’t have to cook since they’d left money for pizza with the kids.

When she got home, the house was quiet. There were no backpacks or shoes by the front door, no tv or music playing, no bickering. The quiet was unsettling. A flutter of concern blossomed in her belly as she set down her keys and purse before heading to the kitchen. Instead of teenagers, she was met with a vase full of flowers on the kitchen table — bright pink daisies, orange and crimson lilies, enormous sunflowers intermixed with leafy greens, bunched together in a stunning display. She gasped at their beauty before crossing to pick up the card that stood open before them. The message was scrawled in Mariana’s neat handwriting.

Happy Anniversary, Moms! You only get one first anniversary so make the most of it.

We love you! M, C, J, J, B

P.S. There’s a note on the fridge of where we’ll all be tonight

A warmth swelled in Lena’s chest while she smiled down at the card, her worry already melted away. Her kids really were the best. She set down the card and turned around. Sure enough, on the fridge was a list of where all the kids were. There were even numbers listed, which Lena was happily surprised to see. She sat down on a stool, feeling appreciative but also still a bit disappointed. It was her anniversary. Her kids had made a beautiful gesture. But instead of celebrating, she was now going to be spending the evening alone. She drummed a little pattern on the wood table, her chin resting in her other hand. She really wasn’t sure what to do with herself. When was the last time she’d had the house entirely to herself? She couldn’t remember. The cash she’d left for pizza was on the table in front of her and she absent-mindedly thumbed through the corners of the bills. Was there a twenty missing? She sighed to herself, somewhere between amused and annoyed, sure that one of the kids had taken it. Just as she picked up the remaining cash to put it back in her wallet, she changed her mind. This was her anniversary and if she had to spend it by herself, she might as well spend it doing what she wanted— which included not cooking for once.

With that, it was decided. Lena ordered herself a pizza with spinach and artichokes since no one was around to whine about it. While she waited for it to arrive, she went upstairs to change into her favorite pajamas - one of Stef’s old t-shirts that was just baggy enough to be cozy and a pair of gray sweats so worn that they were as soft as butter. She took off her makeup, piled her hair on top of her head, picked a book from her ever-growing To-Read pile, and headed back downstairs just as the delivery driver pulled up. Lena settled on the couch in the living room with her book, her pizza, her laptop, and a glass of wine. As she sipped and nibbled, she alternated between her book and her computer, keeping herself busy with nothing of importance — a true rarity in her chaotic life. Her phone was, of course, nearby but it remained mercifully silent. The passing of the evening showed only in the growing number of pages turned in her book and the setting sun.

Not ten minutes after Lena had laid her head back on the couch, the click of the front door pulled her from a light doze. Stef’s voice floated in not long after. “Lena?”

“In here,” Lena called back as she stretched to put her book on the coffee table.

When Stef rounded the corner, she was in her uniform slacks and a black V-neck undershirt. Her work braid was undone and her gold hair fell in waves around her face. It was a sight Lena had seen a million times and yet there was still a flutter deep in her chest, just like the first time they’d met. The bouquet of roses in Stef’s hand just made the flutter even stronger.

“Happy anniversary, my love,” Stef said, offering the flowers with a quick kiss before she settled down beside her wife.

“Happy anniversary.” Grinning, Lena took the roses and buried her nose in them, humming in delight as she inhaled their sweet fragrance. “Thank you.” She looked back up at Stef whose face was bright with a lopsided grin. “They’re beautiful.”

“Not even half as beautiful as you.” Stef took Lena’s face in her hands and brought her in for another slower, deeper kiss. The space between them smoldered by the end and they lingered in the embrace for a moment; Stef’s thumb caressed Lena’s cheek while their foreheads came to rest together.

Stef tilted her head up, leaving barely an inch between them. “Sorry about tonight.”

Lena gave a tender smile. Her free hand squeezed Stef’s knee. “It’s okay.” And it was. She’d been disappointed earlier but now that Stef was home, she was reminded of her priorities. They would have a lifetime of anniversaries to celebrate. This, the two of them together, was what mattered. Lena pressed a gentle kiss to Stef’s lips to reassure her. She then took another sniff of her roses before setting them on the coffee table. “I made reservations for us this weekend.” Lena refilled her wine glass as she spoke. She took a drink before handing it to her wife, who thanked her while they nestled in beside each other. Their hands found one another, fingers entwining out of habit.

“Yeah? Where?” Stef took a long drink of wine then handed the glass back to Lena.

“La Cucina.” They continued to pass the wine glass back and forth in a comfortable rhythm as they continued their conversation.

“Do we have a standing reservation with them at this point?” Stef teased, dodging the swat aimed at her shoulder. La Cucina was their usual dinner date spot because it was close by, in budget but nice enough to feel romantic, and they could always get a reservation on short notice. Both women had been excited about getting to try somewhere new and swanky. And totally out of their price range.

“Do you know how hard it is to get a reservation less than 48 hours in advance?” Lena shot Stef a look, eyes narrow, mouth pursed ever so slightly. A smirk lifted the corner of Stef’s mouth as she was reminded of just how cute Lena was when her feathers were ruffled. “Besides,” Lena continued, “I had already made us reservations somewhere else.” She was teasing, though her words were just pointed enough to make it clear that Stef wasn’t allowed to complain. But any feeling of guilt Stef might have felt vanished before it could appear when her wife leaned over her lap to grab the wine glass out of Stef’s free hand. Her reach across positioned her long neck right in front of Stef’s mouth. The warm, sweet scent of her perfume washed over Stef, enticing her toward the exposed spot while her heart rate ticked a notch higher. Both were acutely aware of Lena’s breasts brushing against Stef’s arm with only a t-shirt between them. Stef wasn’t sure if Lena was purposely dragging out the movement or not, but seeing as both of her own hands were occupied, she took advantage of the position using the only body part available to her. She pressed a kiss to hollow at the base of her wife’s neck, making Lena’s breath hitch. Stef made a slow path up the length of her neck and Lena shivered beneath her warm breath. Just as Stef was settling into the soft underside of her chin, Lena pulled away, slipping back into her seat and taking the wine glass with her.

Stef’s mouth hung open for a split second before she could cover up her disappointment. On purpose, indeed. “Tease.”

Lena raised her eyebrows at the accusation from over the wine glass. “How was your training?” she asked after a drink that took far too long, her tone purposefully casual.

“Fine.” Stef leaned back into the couch, going along with whatever game Lena was playing. Though the steady pulse in her body was much harder to ignore than it had been a minute ago. “Typical bureaucratic crap.” She peeked over at Lena whose head rested back on top of the couch, exposing that gorgeous, long neck again. Swallowing, she dragged her eyes away in an attempt to ignore it.

“What about you, love?” Stef lifted their folded hands to kiss the back of her wife’s. “How was your evening?”

“It was nice, actually. Peaceful.” She wore a lazy smile and hummed her appreciation.

“Enjoyed your time alone, hmm?”

Lena’s eyes cracked open. “How did you know I was alone?”

Lena never missed anything. “Just a guess.” Stef shrugged but her eyes slipped down to her lap while she concealed a sheepish smile.  

Lena sat up, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Really?” she prodded, unconvinced.

Stef rolled her eyes, caught in her lie so easily. “When I found out I was working late, I texted the kids and told them to find somewhere else to be tonight.”

“Oh you did, did you?”

“Mhmm.”

“How presumptuous.” As she took another drink of wine, Lena feigned disdain with the highest of arched brows. Only when Stef winked did her charade dissolve into a grin so goofy only Stef could have coaxed it out of her. “If only it were always so easy to get them out of the house,” she said with a sigh, still grinning.

“Yeah, well, threatening them with bodily harm didn’t hurt, either,” Stef said with an offhanded chuckle.

Lena’s smile was replaced with a scowl. “Really, Stef?”

“What?”

“Was that necessary?” Her tone was scolding but she couldn’t quite keep the amusement from her eyes. She may not have been thrilled about the method but she wasn’t exactly upset about having the time alone.

“Absolutely. And effective.” Stef wriggled her eyebrows. “I had to make sure we had the house to ourselves.”

Lena’s resolve began to weaken but she wasn’t quite ready to let Stef off the hook so she straightened her spine and lifted her nose up in the air. “You sure were confident about getting laid tonight after canceling on me.”

Stef flashed a cocky smile. “We both know you can’t resist me.”

Lena’s jaw dropped, incredulous. That confidence Stef exuded had always been such a turn on and she couldn’t deny that she was defenseless against it. Though, she certainly didn’t have to admit it. When Stef turned to face her, there was a roguish flash in her eyes that made Lena’s heart beat faster. As her wife took the glass of wine, threw back the remaining dregs and set it aside with a clink, Lena knew she was in trouble.

Stef unlaced their fingers for the first time since she had come home. She took Lena’s hand in both of hers, bringing it to her lips. The back, the palm, the soft inside of her wrist; Stef brushed each spot with feather light kisses. As she watched, Lena’s body ached with the tenderness of each kiss. Stef moved her left hand to Lena’s shoulder and dragged it up to the back of her neck. Met with no resistance, she pulled her wife closer with the gentlest urging and Lena’s stomach fluttered as she leaned in, her lips slightly parted in anticipation.

“See?” The single word rushed against Lena’s chin and she couldn’t contain the little whimper of disappointment when Stef remained just out of reach. Stef smirked, proud as she let her gaze fluttered down from Lena’s dark, desperate eyes to her mouth where her teeth now pulled at her lower lip. She glided her thumb along those oh-so-kissable lips, gently tugging the lower one free so she could claim it when she was ready. “I’m irresistible.” The sultry rasp in her voice drove Lena past her breaking point.

“Shut up and kiss me, Foster,” Lena demanded, but she had no intention of waiting. She grabbed Stef’s shirt and pulled her in, crashing their mouths together while desire licked its way up her spine. Their kisses, sweet with wine and hot with desire, grew deeper and more urgent until they were both dizzy with want. Needing a break to catch her breath, Stef wandered down Lena’s neck to the soft bit of flesh peeking out from above her neckline, trying to slow them down but it wasn’t long before Lena dragged her back up, her fingers tangled in blonde hair.

“You know you still owe me dinner,” Lena breathed against Stef’s kiss-bruised lips, refusing to give up what little leverage she still had.

Stef’s voice was rough as she panted to answer. “I thought we already had reservations.”

One of Stef’s strong hands gripped the delicate skin beneath Lena’s shirt at the small of her back. Lena’s body tingled and she leaned in harder until their bodies were pressed hard against each other. “I mean at Addison’s.”

“It’s gonna be a while,” Stef warned.

“I can wait.” Lena’s head tipped back, exposing the full length of her neck, which Stef took full advantage of.

“Can’t I just make it up to you now?” Mischief danced in her eyes while she slipped her hands down to her wife’s hips, beneath the waistband of her pajama pants.

“I guess you can give it a shot.” Lena gave a blasé shrug, though the way her hand gripped Stef’s thigh belied her facade.

“Yeah?” She cocked an eyebrow and then in one swift motion, pulled Lena’s hips toward her, pressing her down along the length of the couch beneath her, eliciting a surprised and excited gasp. “Why don’t I give it a couple?” she growled before capturing her lips once more.

#adamsfoster #adamsfosterfic #written by lifesizehysteria #shaloved30 #god i'm so nervous posting this #i haven't posted fic in so so long

[fandammit]

In the future, there is a me who is happy

[A/N: I set out to write a lighthearted Jackson x Raven fic, I ended up with a series of one-shots that are essentially a character study on Jackson. So, here’s a random 1600 word backstory on Eric Jackson. As always, thanks to @shefollowedfires for her awesome beta skills.]

On Ao3

In the future, I am looking back at myself and urging my heart to go on. I know–I cannot—say this with any certainty–but. This is what I need to believe. In the future, there is a me who is happy. In the future, she is laughing. She is calling out to me.

-onwards, dear heart // amrita c

Eric Jackson has spent a lifetime cataloging things that other people don’t seem to notice.

He was a quiet child, content to observe the world around him and provide whatever people might need. He liked being able to read the details people didn’t say out loud - which kids came to school hungry, so that he could leave a little bit more on his plate for them; which kids couldn’t really read, so that he could always make sure to volunteer to read out loud in their place. He learned which teachers liked it when you asked questions and which ones just liked getting through their lessons as quickly as possible without interruptions.

His mother had laughed when she went to parent-teacher conferences. One teacher would tell her how much he enjoyed the steady stream of questions that he’d ask in class, while another would comment on just how quiet and focused he was.

“You’re your father in one class, and me in another,” she had said, smiling down at him as she gently pushed the hair back from his face. The smile was a real one but still sad around the edges, the grief from his father’s passing never fully gone from his mother’s face.

He didn’t mind the comparison. His mother was the kindest person he knew. And while his own memory of his father by then was washed out and worn, he still remembered him as a quiet man who had said little but loved loudly.

When his mother got sick, he quickly realized the value of being a man like his father. He was eleven then and determined to be everything his mother might need to survive.

He wore down his words so that he could listen more, tamped down on himself so he could be more of what she needed. Found that he could immediately notice if her breath caught when she stood up and would rush over so that she could lean on him. He could see the split second panic that would flash in her eyes when she would forget where she was and know to softly call out mom so she could find her way back to him.

But at fourteen his mother died anyway, despite all the ways he’d learned to read her, all the moments he’d known to offer help before she knew she needed it. So he stepped back from himself and let his quiet recede into total silence, was content to fade into the background of the world forever.

But Abby Griffin had a different plan for him.

Three months after his mother died, she approached him one day in the bustling mess hall.

He was hunched over his notebook, scribbling notes into the margin, when he felt a soft tap on his shoulder.

He looked up and there was Abby Griffin, smiling down on him. In his memory, she’s lit with a soft glow of sunlight behind her, as if some act of God intervened to put her in his path. He knows it’s impossible - fluorescent lighting doesn’t highlight people in that way - and absurdly sentimental besides. Still, he doesn’t think it’s hyperbole to say that Abby Griffin saved his life, so he keeps that part of the memory intact anyway.

“Can I sit down?”

He gave her a long, pensive look, then nodded. Other than his mother, Abby had probably been the person he’d interacted with the most during the three years of his mother’s protracted illness. He had always liked the way she had taken him seriously, taking care to explain exactly what was going on with his mother, laying out exactly what to expect. Even when it became clear that there was no way to save his mom, he understood that it had not been for lack of trying on her part.

“Your instructors tell me you haven’t applied for an apprenticeship yet.”

He nodded again. The deadline was approaching, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care enough to make a decision. He figured he’d just let the school place him wherever he might be needed.

“I was hoping that you’d want to become my medical apprentice.”

He blinked up at her in surprise. Truthfully, the thought had never occurred to him. He was a good student, but had never shown particular aptitude in any of the sciences or basic medical training to warrant a serious look down that path.

“I’m told you’ve never been particularly interested in the health sciences,” Abby continued on as if reading his mind, “but there’s more to being a doctor than knowing the medical side of it.” She leaned down to look him in the eye. “A lot of it is reading people and understanding what they need, not just what they want. You need to be able to see what a patient isn’t telling you, and you have to be able to figure out what might be wrong even if they can’t articulate it.” She smiled warmly at him. “Sound like someone you know?”

He stared at her for a long moment, then shrugged.

Abby reached out and laid her hand on his shoulder.

“I want you to know that I don’t think anyone - including me - could’ve taken as good of care of your mother as you did. I know that it couldn’t have been easy. Seeing you with her is what convinced me that you’d be a good doctor.”

He looked down then, unable to take the warmth and the empathy in her eyes. He turned Abby’s words over in his mind, thinking back to the last six months before his mother’s death.

She had barely been able to get out of bed on her own any more, could spend days in silence and then speak non-stop until her voice became hoarse. Her moods would sway wildly - one moment she would be screaming at him, at the world, at the pain in her head, and then next she would be laugh until she could - literally -barely breathe.

Through it all, he’d remained patient, had remained steady by her side. He had always been ready with medication and then, when they ran through their ration, ready with a cold compress or soft blanket or just a place for her to rest her head and weep. In her rare moments of clarity, she would reach out to him, hold him close and the breathe whatever word of thanks she could muster at the time.

“Eric?”

He flinched at the sound of his name. It was the first time he’d heard it spoken aloud since his mother died, the syllables of it landing in his chest and spreading out painfully in jagged spikes.

“Jackson,” he murmured, his voice hoarse from disuse. He tried to think of the last time he’d spoken out loud and couldn’t place it. He cleared his throat. “It’s Jackson,” he said, louder this time but still barely able to be heard above the general din of the mess hall. “There are four of us with my same first name in my grade,” he explained, his voice shedding it’s rough scrape as he went on, “so everyone calls me Jackson.” He looked away from Abby, embarrassed as his eyes blurred unexpectedly. “My mom was the only one that called me Eric.”

He felt her take his hand and wrap it gently in her own.

“I know that the last few years have been really hard. And maybe you’re tired of being in and around hospitals, but I really believe that you have a gift.” He looked up at her, caught by the sincerity in her tone of voice. “I want to help you use that gift to help other people the way you helped your mom.”

He breathed out heavily, trying to push out the emotion from his voice and failing.

“I didn’t - .” He stopped and swallowed thickly before continuing. “I couldn’t save her.”

Abby waited for him to look back up, her voice tender and soft.

“But you made sure that the last few years of her life were good ones.” She tilted her head at him, her expression sad and knowing. “We won’t ever be able save everyone, Jackson. But we can always make sure to take good care of people for as long as we can.”

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“Ok,” he said quietly, “I’ll do it.”  

She beamed down at him, her expression tender and warm in a way that made him want to look away again.

He didn’t, though; instead, he found himself smiling over at her. It was a small thing, rusty with disuse; but still - genuine, lacking the brittleness of the past few months.

“I’ll see you on Monday, Jackson” she said, giving his hand one last squeeze before she stood up.

He nodded and looked back down at his notes, watching out of the corner of her eye as she turned and began to walk away.

“Abby?” He called out just before she walked out of earshot. She turned around, walking a few steps back towards him. He bit his lip before giving her another close lipped smile. “I just wanted to say thank you. For this. Thinking of me. Believing in me.” He tapped his fingers along the spine of his notebook. “Do you - I mean - I think my mom would want this for me, right? I think she’d be proud.”

Abby smiles down at him, easy and kind like his mother used to.

“I know she would.”

#my fic #the 100 fic #eric jackson #abby griffin #me when i started writing this: jackson x raven is the silliest little crackship wouldn't a short drabble be fun #me now: why TF do i have 3K words just on the history of jackson? #series: i feel small; but so are stars from a distance