#she's gone through a lot and ill never tell her this but. its draining | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

9tzuyu · 3 years

Text

dissolve (rewrite)

natasha x reader

note: this was just a huge vent fic idk. these type of fics seem to be the only thing im okay at writing. mistakes are mine as always. but i did proofread, yay!

if you want to read the original (as awful as it is) you can read it here!

wanrings: this heavily revolves around eating disorders.

i’m not tagging anyone because the content isn’t really the lightest to read.

words are used everyday, everywhere – whether to describe something or someone. there’s thousands upon thousands of them.

so you were having a hard time figuring out why you were struggling so much to justify your feelings through the basis of words. it was unnerving, draining and very annoying. your emotions should be simple, right? you were either sad or happy, angry or scared. but there was something more, something unexplainable. saying you felt alone only scratched the surface of the wave of emotion that took over. it was excruciatingly painful, far worse than any physical pain you ever had to endure. and for some reason it seemed to come crashing down at night while natasha slept peacefully. you weren't exactly sure how to express your emotions to the extent you felt them. how else was anyone supposed to understand your pain? they couldn't, not unless they could somehow shift into your body and feel your emotions themselves. but that was merely impossible as such powers do not exist. so you were inevitably stuck with words foreign to your lips. over the years you were deemed unsafe, a hazard, "an accident waiting to happen" you recall one doctor say. everyone’s eyes were on you at all times, monitoring every little movement you made. it was suffocating and at times doing more damage than good.

as an adult now you learned how freeing it could be without the fear of gaining weight or eating a bowl full of rainbow marshmallow cereal. your worth was not defined by your weight.

(at least that's what you believed prior to any relapses.) everything was going well in your life. you were a college graduate working as a psychiatric nurse and you had found love, something your teenage self could only dream of. natasha was by your side through everything. and really, the only downfall in the relationship was that she had to travel a lot for her job. but you were secure enough in your relationship not to worry or decide to call things off. in the end natasha always made up for it when she came back, so you couldn't complain too much. things were going well for you, really, they were. until they weren't. (and you didn't know why.) it happened out of nowhere. work was a little more stressful than usual, but it was nothing you couldn't handle. natasha had been away for three months, only stopping by a few times to check in on you. but again, your wife being away for so long wasn't anything new or worrisome. the two of you had followed the routine of her leaving and coming back more than a thousand times; yet somewhere along the way you lost yourself. food became less of a priority, your hunger decreased drastically, and within the first month you'd lost thirteen pounds. it truly was an accident, slipping into a full blown relapse was never part of the plan. but thirteen pounds lighter you wanted more, to feel small again. you didn't have an answer as to why you became so attached to your eating disorder, but it didn't seem like it would be letting go any time soon. the rate at which you were going natasha would most definitely be able to see a difference; not only on your weight, but in the person you once were. she'd ask what happened and why it happened, poking and prodding for an answer, but you didn't have one. so here you stood in the kitchen of your shared home, a cup of sliced fruit in one hand and your cell phone in the other. you poured the fruit into the bottom of a blender along with a spoonful of yogurt and half a cup of soy milk. another half cup of ice followed suit. while the fruit blended, you shamelessly scrolled through your instagram. there was nothing interesting going on in other people's lives, you didn't even know why you had social media in the first place. it was dumb, and quite frankly you didn't give a shit whether or not sharon went to the beach. the sound of your blender coming to a halt brought your attention back to the real world. you poured your smoothie into your water bottle. the green liquid would be your breakfast and lunch for the day - dinner was still up for debate. a soft sigh left your lips. work was beginning to feel more like a chore and less of something you enjoyed. you were quickly growing tired of it. nonetheless, you grabbed your keys and rushed out of the door.

you thought about the irony of working as a psychiatric nurse with an undealt eating disorder telling teenagers how to deal with their own issues. you felt hypocritical to say the least, especially given that all the nasty side effects were starting to make themselves known.

your hair was beginning to thin, small clumps of it already starting to fall out when you tugged a little too hard. bruises could be seen scattered left and right on your body, and you were cold. god you were cold. your fingernails were tinted blue, warmth seemingly too far out of reach. you looked ill, and it didn't go unnoticed by your coworkers.

a few hours into your shift you found yourself sitting behind the nurses station filling out paperwork. lunch had passed and when your coworker, steve, asked if you were going to eat something you lied straight through your teeth, telling him you'd grab something when the patients were eating dinner.

but steve rogers could read you like an open book. he knew you were lying because he already knew what was going on. the signs of an eating disorder were quite obvious when you were a licensed therapist. and despite your futile attempts at hiding it, everyone could tell something wasn't right.

steve played it by ear for weeks until he contacted natasha, but by then you'd already lost a considerable amount of weight. as soon as she heard the news, natasha booked the next flight home. unfortunately for her though, there was only one flight and she would have to wait two and a half weeks before being able to leave.

you didn't know it, but those were the longest two and a half weeks natasha ever had to wait.

– patients were having group therapy, so you could tune them out - not that you should, but it was hard to focus when the only two things you could think about were food and your weight.

the need to lose weight sounded so stereotypical for someone with an eating disorder, but honestly it wasn't about that. it was never about wanting to be thin. you genuinely didn't know why this was happening. the only thing you noticed was how rewarding it felt seeing the number go down, as if for you were good for becoming less. it was addictive. and it didn't help that you based your entire worth on how much you could lose.

the next time you stood up from behind the nurses station steve met you in the the cafeteria. while the patients ate you took occasional sips from your smoothie. the bottle was still full of its contents from the morning. you had completely forgotten to drink it during the day, but you didn't seem to mind it that much.

the surprise touch of steve's hand on your shoulder startled you.

i am gross, you thought. do not do that.

steve caught onto the slight flinch your body produced as a reflex, but he didn't say anything about it.

"you can leave early, boss said so."

he laughed as he saw confusion plaster your face.

"what? no!"

"go home, seriously. we have this handled. you know tony doesn't like being told no."

you bit your lip, puzzled by the sudden request. most people wouldn't mind being sent home early, but all it did for you was give you a level of anxiety reserved for food.

what you didn't know was that natasha was home waiting for your arrival. she came back just short of an hour after you left for work.

while you were gone natasha made a few thorough rounds in the house looking for key signs of your eating disorder. there was bound to be evidence given that you didn't know she was home.

unsurprisingly, natasha found a glass scale beside the counter of the bathroom floor along with empty bottles of laxatives in the trashcan. the food in the fridge had been expired a few days past their date, giving her the indication that you weren't eating as much as you should be. her concern grew even more when she found your food journal on your nightstand. flipping the pages, natasha could see that throughout the moths she'd been gone your calorie intake had decreased significantly.

guilt began to gnaw at the back of her throat.

during the few days natasha stopped by, she hadn't noticed anything wrong with you. but then again she knew most people with eating disorders were very good at hiding them up until the point they were discovered. three days wasn't near enough time for her to catch onto your tricks, not when her mind was still focused on her job.

natasha always listened intently whenever you would talk about your eating disorder, the first time being six months into the relationship on a date you felt like you had ruined.

but talking about it was much different than experiencing it with you, natasha had never done that before up until now. she read nearly every article there was about anorexia, bulimia, binge eating disorder and ednos. sometimes when you were asleep she would watch documentaries on the disorder, always making sure to keep her volume at a low level.

the videos that hurt her the most were the ones teenagers struggling with the simple task of eating food.

(although natasha knew it wasn't that simple.)

it hurt because she knew that was you at some point in time.

upon your arrival, natasha cooked dinner. she wanted to hold onto the one sliver of hope that steve was wrong - that he was just overreacting - but she knew in her heart he was right about his assumption. however, dinner would only confirm what natasha so desperately wanted to deny.

when you walked through the door you were greeted with the overwhelming scent of food. you cringed at the thought of having to eat, but as soon as you looked up to see the redhead who'd been gone for so long your frown was washed away. a wide smile overtook your face and you rushed to jump into natasha's arms.

"i missed you so much," you whispered. "i thought you'd be gone for another few weeks?"

natasha's arms found their way around your waist as your legs wrapped around hers. "what? i can't come home early to surprise my wife?" you giggled in the crook of her neck. she smiled feeling the vibrations against her skin, happy to know that you'd missed her just as much as she missed you.

she sat you down, back facing you, she tended to the food. "you've lost weight," she commented, not missing the sharp inhale of your breath.

"how was work, nat?"

she nodded to herself. yeah, she didn't expect you to be so open on the first try.

"it was fine. dinner's ready, i made your favorite!" natasha threw a smile in your direction as she carried the plates over to the table. she had hoped to see your face light up the way it used to, but seeing the panicked look in your eyes further confirmed your relapse.

if nothing else, natasha wanted you to have a meal before she brought up the conversation.

"great... i love it, thank you nat!" your attempt at being enthusiastic failed miserably and you knew by the look she gave you, she already knew what was going on.

but throughout the meal, and despite the shakiness of your hand as it gripped the metal fork, natasha didn't say anything.

you weren't really sure which was worse; being confronted or knowing the both of you knew what the other was thinking and still not addressing it.

natasha's meal was good, you couldn't lie about that, but each bite you chewed caused the tightening in your chest to constrict further.

now you couldn't be good. or worthy. or deserving.

nat took away your plate when you were halfway through. she knew your limits, and she didn't want to push you too much out of your comfort zone.

"go change, i'll wash our dishes. meet you on the couch?"

you did as you were told, taking as long as you could to do so. except this time was different. you didn't glance in the mirror like you usually did, you chose to fully take in your figure.

what you saw was not what you expected to see. for the first time in months you saw a version of yourself that wasn't twisted and turned to be something you didn't know was real or not.

your skin was dry, hair thinned out beyond your belief, eyes sunken and dark underneath. the revelation gave you an odd feeling – was once again something unexplainable, unjustifiable by words.

good.

that was how you were supposed to feel, right? after all of this time, after the many pounds of protection and warmth lost, you were supposed to feel good.

but you didn't. and you never would.

there was something so surreal about the realization of your own destruction. you were aware now, which meant you had to either take responsibility or choose to lose everything you worked so hard for.

"y/n?"

your wife's voice snapped you out of your gaze and you scrambled to pile your dirty clothes and rush out of the bedroom.

as you made your way into the living room you could feel the intensity of natasha's gaze. any other time you would not mind her green eyes looking at you, but this time around you felt like you were in trouble.

she patted the empty spot next to her, to which you reluctantly joined. but even after everything you still tried to play it cool.

"what's up? is everything okay?"

she gave a low chuckle, "you tell me."

"what do you mean?"

"oh i think you know what i mean."

natasha’s reply was met with the loudest silence you ever had to sit through.

she bit her lip, "you know i got a call from steve a few weeks ago. he's concerned about you, and from what he's told me so am i."

you were quick to respond, automatically knowing what steve’s phone call was about. "i'm fine. so what if i've lost a couple of pounds? that doesn't automatically mean that im relapsing, natasha."

your quick snap reminded natasha that this kind of confrontation was like walking on eggshells.

she tilted her head, licking her lips. "i'm here with you, always." nat put a hand to the side of your face, gently rubbing her thumb at the top of your cheekbone. "i'm here."

it seemed pointless now to try and say anything because your secret was already out.

your mind began racing back and forth.

you wanted to keep what you knew best and natasha understood that. even by reading your body language she knew what you were debating.

"you know, to keep it you have to give it away." your eyes darted to meet hers. "mhm. you can still have that piece of you. mourn it, grieve it, do whatever you need to do to move onto a stage where it doesn't hurt you. and from there you can help other people, share your experience, let yourself heal by helping others."

she paused, “we all have choices. some of those choices are taken from you while others leave you with only one option.”

although what she said seemed to resonate with you, there was one thing still holding you back.

"i just want to be good."

natasha hummed. you had explained it to her in the past, though your words were jumbled together as you tried to describe it.

"you can be good in other ways. you're allowed to live a life outside of the barriers your eating disorder puts in the way."

you swallowed the lump in the back of your throat. "i don't even know how it got to this point. in january i enjoyed ihop and dennys. in february i could have oatmeal and bananas, sometimes half of a sandwhich if i was feeling brave. now it’s march and i only eat one or two things a day. the idea of having a full meal makes me want to cry. and i just- i don't know how to stop."

natasha wouldn't show it, but your words cut through her heart like a knife. her mind wandered briefly to all the teenagers in the documentaries she'd watched, hoping you weren't too far gone into your eating disorder to ever come back. those cases scared her the most.

"you've got my complete support. you've tackled this before, maybe this time you can beat it? i know its easier to abuse your body instead of growing comfortable in it, but i think you’ve got this. i know you do."

"what about your work?" your question caused natasha to frown. "you think i wouldn't set my job aside for you?" you shrugged, it's not like you felt like you were worth being taken care of anyway.

natasha grew hesitant to tell you her news, but did it anyway because she’d rather you hate her than see you dead. "i've already made some appointments for you. the first one is tomorrow morning."

"i figured you would natasha. it's okay."

you spaced yourself out the rest of the day. each time you made the executive decision to recover, whether that be a genuine recovery or not, the process never failed to remind you that even trying to recover from an eating disorder felt like mourning the loss of a friend who was never good for you in the first place.

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #avengers x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff imagine

204 notes · View notes

lick-me-lennon22 · 3 years

Text

George caring for a sick Dhani 💜

(thank you to @pmak2002 for this request!! it was supposed to be just a blurb but I did a little research beforehand and it ended up pretty much becoming a whole fic 😅 oops... either way, I hope you enjoy this one! 💕)

When Dhani wakes up for school on Monday morning, he immediately knows something his wrong. His throat is sore, his nose is runny, and his muscles ache like nothing he's felt before. He painstakingly drags himself out of bed, clutching the sheet around him, and heads straight to his parents' bedroom where he finds his mum Olivia still in bed. Dhani notices that the bathroom door is cracked open and cautiously steps inside to find his father, George, brushing his teeth. "Dad..?" he says quietly, voice hoarse. George startles, turning around to see Dhani in his unfortunate state and spits his mouthful of toothpaste into the sink, letting the water wash it down the drain before turning the tap off. "What is it, my boy? You sound bloody awful..," he gently presses the back of his hand to Dhani's forehead to assess his temperature. "You seem to be running quite the fever, son- let's get you to the doctor, all right? Just let me finish up in here and I'll be right out to take ye" George says. Dhani nods weakly, coughing into his elbow, and shuffles out of the room. George jumps into action- he swishes and spits some mouthwash, changes out of his sleepwear into a button-up and jeans, and sprints to the car, his son following close behind him and hopping into the passenger's seat.

"This is ridiculous.." George mutters under his breath as he walks his son out of the clinic and gets into the driver's seat of his car. They had been able to see the doctor almost instantly upon arriving; he had taken some swabs, run a few tests, and determined that Dhani had contracted the flu: "He probably picked it up from school," the doc had said. When George had requested a prescription of some kind to alleviate his son's symptoms, the doctor simply shook his head: "I'm afraid there isn't much we can do for him. The flu's been going around at many schools, I've seen a lot of children this past week with the same complaints. As it stands, all I can tell you is to give him some over-the-counter medicine, bring him some saltwater to gargle for that sore throat, and be sure he gets plenty of fluids and bedrest." George tried to argue, stating that there must be something he can do to cure Dhani of his illness sooner- but as the doc's hands were tied and George didn't want to subject his son to more stress, he took Dhani by the hand and led him out of the office, through the lobby, and back to the car. "Alright, my boy," George sighs- "seeing that the doctor was no help whatsoever, we're headed straight to the drugstore for anything that'll help you feel better. Sound good?"

"Yeah Dad, sounds good" Dhani croaks out and smiles weakly, glad just to spend some time with his father. Being a famous musician and all, George isnt able to spend as much time with his son as he'd like to, a lot of it consumed by work and media-related endeavors. Dhani admired his Dad more than anyone else in his life and though they rarely got the chance to hang out nowadays, they were practically best friends and had formed a close bond throughout his childhood. George was always a fun parent, bringing his son along to festivals and such ("Don't tell yer mum," he'd say with a grin), and sticking up for Dhani to authority figures and even other kids at his school- he was fiercely protective of his boy. However, he was also a gentle parent who allowed Dhani the chance to explore and express himself, and had fostered a mutual respect between the two of them since his son was but a toddler.

"I'm pulling you from school for the whole week" "But what if I'm- *cough*- all better before then?" "Just in case, Dhani- it's not like you really need them and their indoctrination, anyway.." George grumbles, never having been a fan of traditional schools or their teachings. Dhani however has always cared about his grades and paid close attention to the lessons he's been taught, in spite of what his father thinks. "...Okay, Dad" he says meekly, wanting to protest but unwilling to sacrifice more quality time with his famous father. George pulls into the parking lot of the nearest drugstore and marches in, intent on gathering all the supplies his sick boy could need: tissues, lozenges, cough syrup, pain medication, ice packs, and even more tissues- 'just in case.' He makes his way to the checkout, queuing up, paying for the items and hauling his bags back to the car. He drives Dhani home as quickly as possible, carrying him to bed and tucking him in before calling and cancelling any studio time, interviews, or collaborations he'd previously planned. There's only one committment he can't cancel- dinner with Paul tonight for the first time in ages. George sets his son up with all of the remedies he'd bought and tells his wife Olivia everything about the situation, including the "unhelpful and useless" doctor they had gone to see. She of course agrees to care for Dhani, sending her husband on his way to dinner with one of his long-time best friends.

The following day George rises just before noon, having stayed up late to pal around with Macca. He runs the few errands on his agenda, including grabbing his family some lunch, and pulls into his driveway back home where he spots the vehicle of none other than Richard Starkey parked outside. He makes his way to his son's room to discover that Uncle Ringo had come to visit the sick young lad (having found out from Paul that Dhani had come down with a bad case of the flu), joking and cheering him up to distract him from his poor state. The two close friends chat for some time in the living room before Ritchie departs, Olivia checking up on Dhani in the meantime. George thanks his wife and dismisses her from her nurse duties, taking on the responsibility himself. He tiptoes to his son's bedroom cautiously and enterd to see that he's been tucked in, the ice pack George had picked up from the store the previous day resting on his forehead, half-lidded eyes trained onto the telly. "Dhani..?" "Oh- *cough*- hey, Dad"

George approaches the bed and sits down carefully, holding a paper bag out to Dhani. "I brought you a burrito- your favorite," he grins down at his son, who takes the bag: "Really? *cough*- Thanks Dad, you're the best!" he says, hands emerging from the blankets to tear into the treat. George stays sat on the bed, determined to spend time with his sick boy and make sure he knows how loved he is. Glancing around the room at the piano and guitars he's bought and played with Dhani, then back to the young man, Ringo's words from earlier echo in his mind: "He's growing up into such a wonderful lad. He's just like you, ye know- good looks and all."

Olivia had always said they were very alike, but he'd usually dismissed the observation... until now. George couldn't help but realize that they were right- though he was but eleven years old Dhani was already becoming a very talented and creative musician, having learned much about music from his dad. He'd certainly taken after his Beatle father in that regard, and they were in fact very similar- not to mention their near identical looks. Sharing his Dad with the world had been difficult and a bit isolating for Dhani despite his many school mates. He admired and looked up to George from a very young age, always striving to be just like him. As Dhani grew up before George's eyes, he became more and more like his father by the day and George was immensely proud.

His train of thought was broken suddenly when Dhani finished the burrito, crumpling the paper bag and tossing it into the bin. He landed the throw, earning a hearty laugh and a high five from his father. He closed his eyes and laid back, George stroking his hair gently, the two of them cherishing this moment of father-son love. "Are you gettin' sleepy, Dhani?" he asked tenderly- his son nodded in response, already drowsy despite the brightness of the late afternoon sun. "Tell you what- I'll play you a lullaby, that way you can rest easier and know that I'm here beside you." "Dad," Dhani chuckled, "aren't I a little too old for that?" he lied, secretly longing for the affectionate gesture. George grabbed his son's acoustic guitar from its stand and begin to tune it: "You're never too old for yer old man's love and attention, eh? Now you just relax, close your eyes, and rest." Dhani didn't protest any further, heeding his father's instructions with a soft smile on his face. With that, George began to play- he chose "Here Comes The Sun," fingers strumming the strings gently and with care, dedicating the sweet words to his beloved son. By the time he was finished Dhani was fast asleep- grin faltering as he drifted off, but still visible on his lips. George placed the guitar back on the stand gently, taking care not to wake the sleeping lad. He smiled to himself, tears welling in his eyes as he turned to admire his son's peaceful face. "I love you, my boy," he whispered, placing a gentle kiss on Dhani's forehead before tip-toeing out of the room and shutting the door cautiously. Back pressed against the wooden door, George let his eyelids fall shut and sighed: "Sweet dreams, Dhani." ♡

#beatles fanfiction #beatles fandom #the beatles #beatles #george harrison #george harrison imagines #dhani harrison #beatles fluff #LMLBeatles

53 notes · View notes

aubreyprc · 3 years

Text

In My Veins 3

part 1 part 2

All that you can save

Will leave you in the morning

And find you in the day

Walking out of the room knowing he’d have to leave her there, alone for the rest of the night, made him feel sick.

“She shouldn’t be alone.” He said to Dave when the older man had come in after waiting a few moments too long.

“You need to get some rest.” Dave told him, “You can’t stay here. Visiting hours are strict.”

“But she-“

“Aaron.” Dave said, and the man looked at him, tears flooding his eyes. “I know you don’t want to, but you have to. Come on. I’ll drive you back here first thing in the morning and I will sort out about her transferring. You know she wouldn’t want you making yourself ill, let’s go to the hotel, you can have a shower, get some rest and you’ll be back here before you know it.”

Hotch just nodded and followed the older man out of the room, giving Emily one last look before closing the door, the last thing he heard being the sound of the ventilator signaling that air was in her lungs.

Now sat driving away from the hospital, he discovered that leaving there without her was worse than anything he’d ever felt before.

“I’ve spoken to Strauss.” Rossi tells him, “She’s agreed to allow you the next three days off, while Emily is still touch and go. But I’m afraid she can’t allow any longer than that.”

“Okay.” Hotch says, his mind obviously elsewhere.

“You doing okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You know, no one would blame you if you weren’t..” Rossi tells him, “Emily means a lot to all of us, but especially you. And I don’t think you’ve really processed this yet.”

“I’ve processed it.” Hotch tells him, staring at a spot of blood on his wrist.

“Aaron...”

“Dave I said I’m fine.” Hotch snaps, so the older man just nods his head and drops it.

Once at the hotel, Rossi hands him his key and watches as he takes it with a sort smile.

“Get some rest.”

“You too.”

As soon as he’s alone, all he has left to listen to is his own thoughts. He turns on the shower and hops in, watching the last of her dried blood fall from his body and down the drain, tears sting in his eyes as he stares at it. The burning water helps, giving him something else to focus on, but every time he closes his eyes he sees her. First, it’s flashes of her smiling, either at him, his son, or in the distance, then it’s her under the car, gasping for breath, bleeding, choking, then she’s on a ventilator and he snaps his eyes open, unable to see it anymore. He starts to wonder if he’ll ever forget.

Laying in the bed was unbearable, his mind running through every single scenario that could happen. He remembers the doctor telling them that in the event that she does wake up, there is a possibility for brain damage. What does that even mean, brain damage? There are so many forms of it, he realises, and the reality of that happening… he rubs a hand over his face, forcing himself to not think about it. He can’t think about it, not when he doesn’t know what to expect. He would love her no matter what, he knows that, he hopes she knows that too.

His only thoughts as he stares at the ceiling are the moments he felt everything change.

They were on the phone with them, when the accident happened. The sound of the car being crashed into and sent rolling over and down a hill over taking the speaker until the line goes dead.

“What just happened?” Garcia asks from her office in Quantico, already preparing herself for the drive to North Carolina.

“Something happened… a crash, maybe?” Rossi questions, before looking at Hotch.

“Were calling them back, can you get the location of the SUV?”

“Absolutely, Sir.” Garcia agrees, quickly getting the SUV’s GPS up. “It looks like..it went off route.” She tells them, “Last known location was on park..” Garcia stops, “It says here that they’ve been discontinued only for a few minutes.”

“They were heading in that direction.” Rossi says. He looks at Hotch, noticing the man’s panic, and places a hand on his arm.

“Come on,” He says softly, “I’m sure everything is fine.”

Hotch just nods and follows the older Agent out of the station while one of the Police Officers calls 9-1-1, letting them know about the accident.

The drive was silent, both too worried about what they were going to find to even think about communication, as they arrived at the SUV’s last known location the sight of a mashed up front lorry, smoking at the front while other pedestrians piled around, pointing at the hill below them, panic had never risen within the men so fast. Rossi parked the car quickly, stopping just as Hotch jumped out. Rossi ran after his friend, but the Agent was quick, just on his heels Dave stopped just as Hotch did and followed his eyes down to where he was looking, and there they were.

The SUV was on its side, smoke coming from the front of it, one side of the vehicle completely gone, as though the force of the crash pressed it into the other side.

The first person they noticed was JJ, who was talking to Derek about something while grabbing the side of her head. Morgan stood in front of the car, desperately trying to lift something up, Reid then came into view, bending down and looking as though they were talking to someone.

The two men ran down the hill, the sound of their footsteps grabbing the trio’s attention.

“What happened?” Rossi asked as they stood in front of them, Hotch looked at JJ, who stared back at him.

“That lorry ran a red light, crashed right into us.” Morgan answered, “Hotch..” He said softly, and then man’s eyes went from JJ’s to Morgan’s. “I can’t lift it.”

“Can’t lift wha-“ He paused, and wondered why the man was blocking him from passing him, “Where’s Prentiss?”

Morgan looked at him, sadness and guilt written all over his face, just as he went to answer, Spencer popped up from the floor and lifted his head over the roof.

“She’s conscious.” Reid told them and Hotch quickly ran to the other side of the SUV, before freezing, staring at the scene in front of him.

Emily, trapped under the car door from the hip down.

He rushed to her and dropped to his knees at her side while Reid looked at Morgan as he hurried to the side to once again, try and lift the trapped door that held their friend.

“Hey,” Hotch said to her softly, smiling at her as he rubbed a hand over her forehead, brushing hair away from it. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like i’m being- weighed down by eight tons of metal.” She whispered, trying to make a joke. Her breaths were harsh and horsed, as if someone was leaning on her throat.

“Probably because you are.” He grinned back, her laugh made him smile before she began to choke, he gently rubbed his hand acorss her head. “Shh, shh, relax.” He told her gently, “Just breathe, okay? Don’t try to speak.”

She nodded slowly, her eyes fluttering closed before opening again when she felt his other hand grab onto hers.

“They’re going to try and get the door off you, okay? Try and stay still.”

“They’re- not going to be able-“ She said crockly, her voice barley recognisable.

“Don’t say that.” He told her, “You’re going to be okay, just stay with me.”

Reid and Morgan tried another three times to lift the door to no avail.

“It’s trapped underneath something and it’s..” Morgan said breathlessly, “It’s too heavy.”

Hotch went to answer them when Emily began coughing. He gently moved her head to the side as blood came from her lungs, spluttering acorss the ground and her lips.

“The paramedics are four minutes out-“ Rossi said, stopping half way through his sentence as he turned away from her, the sight of her coughing up blood enough to send him into a full panic.

“You’re okay.” Hotch whispered to her as her coughs slowly stopped, “You’re okay.”

She shook her head, grasping onto his hand and looking at him.

Before he could say anything, there was a thud as Spencer fell to the ground. Morgan’s shout for him made him look up and he stopped breathing as the genius laid limp on the floor.

“Spencer?” Morgan said, cupping the man’s face. He placed two fingers on the side of his neck with shaky hands, a sigh of relief leaving him as a pulse beat back. He placed a hand on the man’s chest and frowned when he felt a slight bump. He undid he top and gasped at the sight of the purple bruising around his chest.

Morgan’s shouts zoned out of his ear shot when Emily’s hand went limp in his own.

He shook her gently, smiling down when her eyes fluttered open.

“Stay with me.” He begged her, tears rolling down his face. “You’re going to be okay.”

“No..” She said breathlessly to him, “Aaron-“

“Don’t-“ He pleaded, squeezing her hand.

“It’s too late,” She gasped, breathing becoming more of a challenge as her lungs and chest filled up with blood from the weight of the door rested on her body. “Look at me.” She asked, he did. “ I love you.” She whispered, a smile forming on her face as tears slid down her cheek.

Hotch smiled, wiping her tears and nodding, “I love you too.” He whispered back, “Please. Please just hang on for me.”

Emily swallowed her coughs and squeezed his hand, her mouth opened as though she wanted to say something but her breath caught in her lungs before she choked, blood coming up once again, then nothing. Her eyes fluttered closed and his heart hammered in his chest.

“Emily?” He called, stroking her cheek gently, “Come on. Wake up.”

Sirens could be heard in the distance as Rossi stared on.

Both Emily and Reid unresponsive to the calls from their love, a heartbreaking scene he’s only ever saw in movies.

Hotch watched as Emily was lifted from the ground and onto a gurney, before being quickly pushed into the back of an ambulance. He followed and with the nod of an EMT, jumped in, grabbing Emily’s hand.

“Do you want to hold onto this for her?” The EMT asked him, holding out her necklace. He nodded and gently took it, staring at it as he focused on the sounds of her heart coming from the machine.

No one sleeps that night. It’s fairly obvious that it was a restless night for all of them when they meet in the hotel lobby, dark bags under their eyes. JJ stares off out of the glass window of the hotel, her mind running with all the scenario’s that could happen in the next few days, she gently takes a breath and closes her eyes, trying to force herself not to cry. She turns her head slowly as she feels the presence of someone next to her, smiling sadly when Rossi’s soft eyes stare back at her.

“Did you get any sleep?” He asks her gently.

“Not even a little bit.” She chuckles, shaking her head, “Every time I closed my eyes i saw-“ She stops, swallowing and looking to the floor.

“I know.” He nods, looking out of the glass window, “I think Emily might be the only person getting a decent sleep for the next few days.” He gently teases in a way he only really does with Prentiss.

JJ laughs, nodding her head. “She’d love that.”

Rossi smirks, rubbing a hand over his face, before turning at the sound of two muffled voices behind him.

“You ready to go?” Derek asks them as he, Garcia and Hotch arrived in the lobby, all three looking worse for wear.

“Yeah.” JJ nods, sending a sad smile to Hotch, who smiled back as best he could.

“Come on.” Rossi says, leading the younger members out of the hotel and towards the SUV.

Arriving at the hospital, Rossi put himself on coffee duty, Morgan went to see Spencer, wondering if he’s ready for travel if they’re able to go home today, the other three heading to see Emily when they spot her doctor and two nurses leaving her room.

“What’s going on? Aaron asks the doctor, who stopped and looked at the three of them.

“Agents,” He greets. “Don’t worry, Agent Prentiss is fine. There’s been no change, which at this stage is a good thing.” He says to them.

“No change is good?” Garcia questions.

“At this stage,” He tells her with a nod, “Of course there is the hope for her to improve, but at this moment, keeping her stable is the main priority. Especially is you’re thinking of transporting her to your local hospital back in Virginia.”

“Do you still think that’s a good idea?” JJ asks.

“There’s always a risk.” He nods, “But in her condition I do think being at her local hospital is for the best, for her but also for you.” He smiles at them, “I’ll be talking to the rest of her doctors today and we will be speaking to the doctor in Virginia and we’ll know by this afternoon if the transfer is possible.”

The three of them nod, “Thank you.” Hotch says, before the doctor smiles and heads off and the three go to sit with Emily.

Morgan helps Reid into his shirt, before resting his hands on the side of his face.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” He smiles, Reid laces his fingers through the ones rested on his cheeks and smiles.

There’s a knock at the door and the two men turn.

“Knock Knock.” Garcia smiles. “It’s good to see you up, boy wonder. Are you being released?”

“Not today.” Reid tells her, “But the nurses think I should walk around for a few minutes to try and help my body recover faster.”

“What’s going on with Emily?” Morgan asks as he gently grabs Spencer’s hand and helps the man stand up.

“They’re talking about transport, they think it’s a good idea. For her and us.”

“Do you know if it will be today?”

“Not yet.” Garcia smiles, “Do you know how much longer you’re being kept in?”

“A few more days.” He huffs, Garcia laughs.

“You had major surgery, Reid.”

“I know but-“

“Is there a but?” Garcia asks, raising an eyebrow. The young agent looks to the floor, mumbling something before taking a step forward, Morgan’s hand laced through his own.

“How is Emily?” Derek asks.

“No change. The doctor said that’s a good thing for now.”

“I suppose so.”

Hotch jumps when his phone rings, a sound that also startled JJ. He sends her a quick apology before grabbing his phone and leaving the room.

“Hotchner.” He says, leaning against the wall.

“Hey.” Jessica says, “How’s Emily?”

“No change.”

“Are you still coming home today?”

“That’s the plan but-“

“Hey.. there’s no rush. Jack’s fine. I’ll watch him for as long as you need.”

“Have you told him anything?”

“No, I didn’t know what to say. I thought best you talk to him.”

“Yeah..” Hotch sighs, “Is he around?”

“He sure is.” Jesscia says, before handing the phone to a bouncing six year old.

“Hey Daddy!” Jack shouts happily, “Are you coming home today?”

“That’s the plan, buddy.” He says. “How was school yesterday?”

“It was okay.” He groans, still getting used to waking up before eight. “Did you catch the bad guy?”

“Sure did.” Hotch laughs, he hears Jack giggle and it fills him with that little bit of joy he’d needed.

“Are you with Emmy?” Jack asks, and Hotch feels his breath hitch in his chest, he swallows.

“No buddy, not right now.”

“Oh.” The six year old replies in a sad tone, “I wanted to tell her about the book we was reading before you both left.”

“Did you finish it?”

“Yep!” He says happily, “Me and Aunt Jess read it all.”

“Good. Did you like it?”

“Yeah!” He laughs, “Will you tell Emmy?”

“Of course.” He says, trying to force his voice not to break.

“Daddy I have to go to school now.” Jack sighs, “Will you be here when i get home?”

“I hope so.” He says, “I love you.”

“Love you too daddy.” Jack says, and the six year old ends the call.

“How’s Jack?” Rossi says, coming from nowhere and makin Hotch jump.

“He’s good.” Aaron nods, “He wanted to.. speak to Emily.”

“He’s gotten use to having her around.”

“Yeah..” Hotch says softly, “What do I tell him?”

“I don’t know.” The older man says honestly, “I guess you’ll know when you see him.”

“Have you heard anything about moving her to Virginia?”

“They’re talking with some doctors there now. We should know in a few hours.”

Hotch nods and he and Rossi head back into the room.

JJ smiles up at them from over her book.

“Everything okay?” She asks.

“Yeah.” Hotch says, JJ nods before looking back into her book.

Aaron just stares at the darked haired women connected to so many tubes he can’t even begin to count, and focuses on the sounds of her steady heart beat.

Hotch, JJ and Rossi are talking about something and nothing when the door opens, a smiling Garcia popping in, behind her, Morgan and Reid, the latter hanging onto his boyfriend’s arm to keep him standing.

“Hey guys.” JJ smiles, “Spence, it’s good to see you up and about.”

“Yeah.” He says, hesitant at the door, unable to meet Hotch’s eye.

“Take a seat, you’ve had major surgery. I'm not sure you should be standing.” Rossi says. Reid smiles, before he looks towards the empty seat next to Hotch, but he only takes a seat after the older man pulls it out further for him with a slight smile.

“Thanks.” He says, taking a seat, “How is she?”

“They say she’s doing well.” Hotch tells him.

“Have you heard anything about moving her?”

“Not yet.” Hotch answers, “Soon, hopefully.”

Just at that moment, the doctor walks in and smiles to them.

“It’s good news.” He says, “I’ve spoken to the attendings in Virginia and they have the room in the ICU.”

“When can she be transferred?” Rossi asks.

“In my medical opinion, I’m recommending travelling by Air Ambulance.” He informs them, “Dr Reid, I’ve spoken to Dr Manning and he agrees that in your condition, you should travel with her but I’m afraid the rest of you will have to travel separately. I gather you have your own travel?”

“Yeah.” JJ mutters, looking back at Emily and gently squeezing her hand. “Do you think she’s stable enough?”

“I do.” He nods, “A doctor will be traveling with you just in case of any emergencies but I don’t foresee one. The Helicopter is currently being prepped, i’ll be back when we’re ready to move her.”

“Thank you.” The team says at around the same time, the doctor leaves with a smile.

“I’ll go and call about the jet.” Dave says, already halfway to the door.

Twenty minutes later, they watch as Emily is wheeled away. Hotch gently graces a finger over his lips as he still feels the pressure of her forehead on them, before following behind the rest of the team.

“You look after her up there, okay?” Rossi tells Reid.

“Of course.” He nods, before he’s ushered away by his doctor.

“We should be going.” Garcia says.

The flight back was awful. Neither of them knew what to say, each of them worried about the absent members. Hotch stared out of the window, his mind running wild, remembering all his times with Emily, while also thinking about just what he was going to tell Jack.

JJ sat staring at nothing, her eyes on her coffee cup as she ran through the scene just one night ago. Rossi can’t help but try and prepare himself to lose her, the woman he’d grown to love like a daughter. Garcia sits and thinks about good things, positive things, about how she’ll smile at Emily when she wakes up, and tell her to never scare them like that again, thinks about the next girls night she, JJ and Emily will have. Because he can’t think about losing her. She won’t. And Morgan, Morgan tries to press down the intense guilt he feels about the whole situation, along with his worry for both his best friend and his boyfriend.

The helicopter is no better. Reid sits next to Emily, his hand resting in hers while he stares at the heart monitor, trying to control his breathing.

“What do you think the chances of her waking up are?” He asks the doctor, who looks at him and then the chart.

“I really couldn’t say. Situations vary.”

“I know.” Reid tells them, “But in your opinion? I’d like to hear it.”

“Okay.” They nod, before facing him, “I think that she endured very extreme trauma to her body. She has shown no change in the last twenty four hours. She cannot breathe without a ventilator and while her brain activity is present, it’s.. not what it should be, which tells me there could be some damage from the lack of oxygen when she coded on three separate occasions.” They tell him, “I think preparing yourself for the worst outcome and getting the best, is better than hoping for the best and getting the worst.”

“You don’t think she’ll wake up?”

“I think that the lack of improvement is a concern. If I were you I would prepare for the worst. I don’t see how she comes out of this, even if she does wake up.”

“Thank you.” Reid tells them, “For being honest.”

“I wish it were better information.”

“Yeah,” The young man whispers, rubbing his thumb across Emily’s hand. “Me too.”

Hotch goes home to Jack before going to the hospital, in desperate need to see his little boy.

He opens the door and can’t help but smile at the shout of Jack.

“Daddy!” The six year old jumps into his arms and wraps his little body around Hotch, who holds him right back.

“Hey buddy.” He says, kissing him on the temple. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too, Daddy.” He says, resting his head on his shoulder. “Me and Aunt Jess made pizza.” He tells him.

“You did?”

“Mmhm.” The boy says, “Is Emmy coming over for dinner too?”

Hotch rubs a hand over his sons back and sends a sad smile towards Jessica, who steps out of the kitchen.

“Do you need me to stay?” She asks him, he knows that means she’s really asking “Are you going back to the hospital?”

He sends her a nod and she smiles.

“Of course. I’ll give you two a minute.” She says and heads off to the kitchen.

“What is it?” Jack asks, lifting his head and looking at his dad.

“I need to tell you something.” Hotch says softly, placing his son on the floor and kneeling down to his level. “It’s about Emily.”

“Is she okay?” Jack asks quietly, placing with the bottom of his t-shirt nervously. Hotch gently grabs his son’s hand and the boy looks at him.

“No, buddy.” He says, shaking his head before swallowing the lump in his throat. “No, she’s not okay.”

“Why not?”

“Well..” Hotch says, clearing his throat, “She got into a car accident.” He says, watching as Jack nods in understanding before continuing, “And now she’s resting but she can’t breathe on her own.. and so there’s a machine doing it for her.”

“But she’s going to wake up, right?”

Hotch smiles sadly and places a hand on his son’s cheek.

“I don’t know, bud.” He whispers, “I hope so.”

“Is Emmy going to go away like Mommy did?” Jack asks, his lip quivering as his eyes tear up.

Hotch doesn’t know what to say. How do you explain a coma to a six year old?

“I don’t know.” Hotch says, “The doctors are doing their jobs and trying to wake her up. But she might not wake up.” He tells him, “Right now, Emily is fighting to come back to you, okay? But she’s very very sick.”

“Can i go and see her?” Jack asks, a tear leaving his eyes, his voice sad and small.

“Not tonight, but maybe in a few days, okay? The doctor’s are still trying to help her.”

“But I want to say goodbye..”

“You will.” Hotch tells him with a nod, stroking his cheek. “I promise.”

“But not today?”

“But not today.” Hotch says, and the boys walks into his arms and cries, holding on tight to his father.

“It’s okay.” Hotch soothes, wrapping the boy in his arms.

“I don’t want Emmy to die.” The boy cries.

“I know.” Hotch whispers, “I don’t want her to either.”

“Are you going to stay with her tonight? She can’t be on her own.” Jack says, worry in his eyes when he looks at his dad, “What if-“

“I’ll go back, i’ll stay with her.” Hotch nods, “Don’t worry.”

Jack nods and goes back into his fathers arms.

Hotch picks him up and heads to the couch, sitting down and letting the boy rest on his chest, running a soothing hand down his back as the boy falls into a slumber.

Jessica puts him to bed a few minutes later, and Hotch heads to the hospital, trying to compose himself on the way.

“How did Jack take it?” Rossi asks as Hotch runs a hand over his face and takes a deep breath while they wait for the doctors to allow them in her room.

“As well as a six year old could.” Hotch answers. “Everyone gone home?”

“Morgan is with Reid downstairs, he should be discharged tomorrow, Garcia went to get some tea and I sent JJ home. She should see her son.”

“Good,” He nods, “Good. And what about work..”

“You’ve been given three personal days. The rest of us go back tomorrow, apart from Reid. He’s on medical leave.” Rossi says.

“Okay.” Hotch nods, “God.. how is this happening… how is-“

“I know.” Dave say, patting the man on the back. “It all feels like a sick dream.”

“Yeah..” Aaron whispers, “She's in there?”

Dave nods, “They’re just running their own tests, getting their own information. We’ll be allowed to see her soon.”

The doctor’s left the room not ten minutes later and all three stood up.

“Is she okay?” Garcia asks quickly.

“She’s stable.” They tell her, “But I’m afraid I haven’t see any improvement in the last almost sixty hours, not even in brain function, which after this amount of time is normally seen, even if it’s just by a small amount.”

“What does that mean?” Aaron asks.

“That means that unfortunately, the probability of her coming out of this fall by ten percent. Which in her condition is an extreme amount.”

“So, what?” Rossi questions, “What is the percentage of a good outcome.”

“The chances of her waking up are currently falling at around twenty percent, but the reality of the situation is that even if by some miracle, which, I have seen, she does come out of this...the chance of brain damage rise by around two percent every time the heart stops for over two minutes.. her heart stopped three separate times at an overall time of seventeen minutes.”

“Oh.. my god.” Garcia whispers, stepping back and turning around.

“I think you should all prepare yourself for the possibility that she won’t come back from this.” The doctor tells them, “I am so sorry.”

“Thank you.” Hotch says, “Can we see her?”

Of course.” He nods, “Follow me.”

Sitting next to her, watching the rise and fall of her chest, if he ignores all the wires and the tubes and the beeping, it almost looks as though she’s just resting. He imagines her in his bed, sleeping, ready to wake up at any second and playfully scold him for staring at her. He prays for it, he hasn’t prayed in years, he realises, but as he rubs a thumb over her hand and stares at her, he prays for a fucking miracle, because if anyone deserves one, it’s her. It’s them. After everything they’ve been through over the years, Foyet.. Doyle.. Paris..

They deserve a miracle. She deserves a miracle.

#hotchniss #in my veins

65 notes · View notes

moralitas · 3 years

Text

Fallen Angel: Destiel scene but Sonadow

Little collaboration between myself, @teamxdark, and @nutkin!

We all saw the destiel scene and went “okay but sonadow” and what started as a joke got a ficlet and some art.

I was told to @mintywhisker bc I think they inadvertently started this for us.

Sketch was by Nutkin, lineart/coloring by myself, and writing by teamxdark!

Shadow heaved a breath, his brain fuzzy from exertion. Warping the ARK back into orbit had been a herculean task, and he was already feeling his body pay the price. The universe around him blurred and swam in front of his eyes, with the stars disappearing into the endless void of space.

Space around him seemed so vast and Shadow felt so small. The Ultimate Lifeform felt like less than nothing in between a world, a colony, and the universe itself.

Yet Sonic was larger than life somehow.

The other hedgehog was still grasping at his hand, jubilant at their victory. Shadow could sense his joy, could see it in the bright pulses of light that seemed to come off of him in waves. In the middle of everything, Sonic shone stronger, glowed warmer, burned brighter than the sun. Shadow could feel his energy seeping far and wide, revitalizing him by a fraction, enough to focus his sight and his thoughts again.

Sonic was like life itself, condensed into one singular magnificent being.

Shadow knew now, more than ever, that he was a goner.

It didn’t make logical sense. He knew that. But almost nothing about this situation made logical sense. How did someone hold the power to Chaos Control with a fake emerald? How did someone manage to retain their super from after such a major effort, while Shadow, the Ultimate Lifeform, created to hold and manipulate Chaos Energy as part of his purpose, was struggling?

Sonic was stronger than Shadow.

And sometimes you didn’t need logic to know that your other half, your soulmate, the one that held your heart was right there in front of you.

Shadow felt his strength continue to ebb, and he wanted to do one thing right in his life. He wanted closure. He wanted solace.

He wanted to be.

“Sonic.”

Glowing red eyes turned to him, eyes strong with life and power and warmth. Shadow felt himself get pulled in, and his tongue loosened, letting his thoughts fall free from his lips.

“When Maria died… I wondered if I could ever be happy again.”

Sonic’s face morphed into a look of confusion. Shadow wasn’t deterred. After all, it didn’t really matter the outcome of his speech.

He wasn’t going to last much longer.

“I always wondered, ever since I saw that moment, that awful moment, I wondered… If I ever could feel it again. What true happiness could feel like. I never found an answer, because the one thing I want… I can never have.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Something I know I can’t have."

Maria… I always wanted you to come back. I didn’t know how to live without you.

Shadow heaved a sigh. That was the easy part. Now for the hard part.

Sonic’s hand was still warm around his own. Shadow gathered his courage and continued.

“But I think I know… I think I know now. What could make me happy again. Happiness… isn’t always in ‘having’.” Shadow’s eyes reopened, but nothing came into focus. Sonic, brilliant and glorious, was a golden blur that his eyes savored. “It can be in ‘being’. It can be in just… saying it.”

“What are you talking about, Shadow?” Sonic sounded confused. Sonic sounded concerned.

Shadow kept going regardless. It was now or never. He would not die with these thoughts bottled up.

“I know… I know how I’ve been. How I’ve presented myself, to you and everyone else. Destructive, and angry, and broken, and… and the professor’s weapon to wield. That hate and anger… that’s what drove me. Like that was who I am. But it’s not.” Shadow took in another breath, but the fog in his head was seeping in and refusing to clear. “This whole time… I was driven by love. Everything I have ever done, the good and the bad, I have done for love. Love for someone I would never see again.”

Shadow could feel the energy begin to die in his body, feel the power inside him drain and dissipate, but he pushed on, determined to see this through. “And then I saw you, and I know… I know you’re the same. You guide your friends for love, you fought for this whole world for love… That is who you are.” His fingers squeezed Sonic’s, indulging in the warm energy that exuded from his grasp. “You are the most caring man on earth, you are the most selfless, loving person… that I will ever know again.”

Maria would have loved you.

Shadow blinked, and a few tears fell. Sonic remained silent, and Shadow couldn’t see his face in between the tears and the blurriness of his vision, but it didn’t matter. Whether reciprocated or not, Shadow wouldn’t be alive to see the consequences of his confession.

“You know, ever since we met, ever since I first fought you, knowing you has changed me.” A silent laugh escaped his lips, and Shadow felt the tug of gravity begin to bring him down. “Because you’ve proven everything I thought to be true to be wrong. I learned that the world is not filled with nothing but cruelty, I learned that I was not alone in my power, I learned that caring for others was not something that held me back from what I was really supposed to be fighting for all along… A world where people could be happy and safe.” His mind flashed to Rouge, and their unfortunate final conversation. He hoped that she knew that he held no ill will against her. “I think I’ve discovered, now, what the Ultimate Lifeform is. I think… it might be you.” And that’s why I know the world will be safe with you. I know I can trust you with Maria’s final wish. “You changed me, Sonic.” Shadow’s head swam with dizziness and his soul sang with emotion, too many to identify and appreciate in the moment. He took a few more breaths, but they did nothing to bring clarity to his mind.

“Why does this sound like a goodbye?”

Sonic’s voice finally made its way to Shadow’s ears, and Shadow felt himself smile, in spite of himself. His words weren’t falling on deaf ears, and though his mind was too far gone to tell what Sonic was feeling, he was pretty sure he could feel a few tears that weren’t his own fall onto his arm as gravity pulled mercilessly at his legs.

He could hope, but again, it didn’t really matter now if his feelings were reciprocated or not.

“Because it is.”

He felt it now, the coldness of space, the hollowness that spread as his super form gave out, and the only thing keeping him suspended in the air was Sonic’s grip around his

wrist. Shadow closed his eyes, not planning on reopening them. It was now. His final truth, to be said before all, yet only to be heard by one.

“I love you.”

And he felt his heart pick up speed, because this was a new love, unlike the one he had felt for Maria, unlike the one that had been growing with Rouge. This was a love that he had only ever heard about before, a love that he always considered as something that belonged in the stories Maria had read to him when he was still young and growing and learning about everything around him. A love that he wanted to bask in, like the sun’s rays, or like Sonic’s unyielding brilliance.

He felt his wrist begin to slip as the inhibitor ring loosened. Sonic still said nothing, but Shadow didn’t mind. It was a lot to take in, and perhaps it was better this way. Shadow could die, not burdened by the sting of rejection or the longing for what he could have if he had managed to pull through.

His wrist slipped even more, and he felt Sonic jolt. “Shadow, wait--”

“Sayonara… Sonic the Hedgehog…”

Gravity claimed him. Shadow hardly noticed when his hand slipped free of the ring. He felt himself plummet, yet he felt the lightest he ever had in his life. He had fulfilled his promise to Maria. He had protected the world from his own mistakes, and found someone to keep it safe in his absence.

He had fallen in love.

As he fell into the atmosphere, burning upon entry, feeling as though he were surrounded by hellfire, Shadow the Hedgehog had no regrets.

He only felt happiness.

…

Some minutes later, on board the ARK, Sonic clutched at Shadow’s ring as he stared out into space. The others had scattered, talking to each other and making sense of what had happened, and what would happen next. Sonic knew that they had questions, they had concerns, all of them, Amy, Rouge, Knuckles, his brother… but he wasn’t ready to face them. Not yet.

Sonic heaved a breath, fogging up the window in front of him. The loss stung him more than he could possibly fathom in that moment, still fresh and new. He was alone in the observation deck, now. He squeezed the ring in his grasp, making a mental note to pass it on to Rouge. He wasn’t…

He wasn’t ready to hold it for the rest of his life. He wasn’t ready to be reminded of…

“Sayonara… Shadow the Hedgehog…”

Sonic left the room, and didn’t look back.

#Destiel #sonadow #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sa2 #art collab #teamxdark #moralitas #nutkin #yo this was fun and it wasnt supposed to be a whole thing but here we are #smash u break me with ur words

147 notes · View notes

yandere-mha-blog · 3 years

Text

Chapter 3: Getting interesting

Words: 2176

You sat alone at your desk that day, looking over at Fumiko who saw you looking knowing that you knew that she was looking at you, and quickly turned her head, she must have felt ashamed about how everything was handled. You were paying attention like usual when you overheard some girls talking.

“So did you hear that Akio got put in the hospital by the nighthawk.” one said

“Really, you would think the heroes would have caught him by now.” the other one said, you had to hold your tongue saying how Akio was actually a bastard and had it coming that night, still then people would talk about you and your involvement and right now you had to finish school, four years of this wasn't about to be flushed down the drain because you were interested in this so-called villain, still it brought up a lot of questions now, how many of these attacks were actually prompted, what other tricks was he able to pull off.

You left your last class around 9 at night, night classes always sucked but what else could you do as you kept walking down the pavement only to see something bright red catch your eye. You stopped to make sure your eyes weren't playing tricks on you as you saw the red feather laying on the ground the other way, was this another “gift” of his?

Curiosity may have killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back, so you went over to the feather and it moved down the street, was he playing with you, it was either follow the feather or go home and do more boring work. So you followed the feather to satisfy your curiosity as you went down the street. What exactly was he doing as the feather stopped outside a public park? It was empty or so you thought as you picked up the feather and walked in.

“I believe you dropped this,” you said looking up in a tree to see him with his foot dangling down

“Oh is that where I left it, you are doing me a big favor by bringing it here,” he said as the feather flew out of your hand and attached back to his wings

“I know you can control them, so what is this about?” you asked

“What about it, I am just chilling in a tree.” he said, “you are the one who followed my feather-like a baby duck following its mother.” “I am not a baby duck.” you said “Why do you keep leaving them for me to find?”

“Because...we are both birds,” he said

“You have to be kidding me, I'm not a bird,” you said

“Sure you are, you got them sharp talons, you can do some serious damage to someone if you wanted, is that why you want to become a doctor.”

“Excuse me, how do you know that?” you said

“I can also hear through my feathers you know.” he said “And see, like how a dolphin has echolocation.” “More like a platypus and it's bill,” you said

“Hahah true, true.” he said “When you sliced open my feather oh so rudely the other day, I was also able to see all your textbooks.” He said stretching his wings out “is why you want to become a doctor, because it's the only way you can cut people open without being labeled violent.”

“...” you were silent as one of his bigger feathers nudge your face

“You can tell me.” he said “I am not one to judge here, you know.”

“Why are you so interested in that?” you asked

“Tell you what, you tell me the truth and ill tell you something interesting about my glorious self,” he said

“Okay fine, you got me okay, I don't know what it is but as a child I would find dead animals and just want to use my talons to study them more, I was curious about it,” you said

“Well birds gotta fly, you gotta do that.” Hawks said, “So did your parents find out.”

“They did, they sent me to therapy and I suppressed it, till well I was doing dissection in class and well old habits die hard I guess,” you said

“You are telling me.” Hawks said, patting your head with one of his wings “So then what happened?” “I got sent to the school therapist, again, and she told me my curiosity was good but wasn't being used the right way and that there are other ways to learn about stuff and maybe biology was my passion, but using a scalpel can only go so far.”

“I get that like I can fly a plane, but it isn't anything like using my wings.” Hawks said, “Now my turn, hm let's see what can I tell you.”

“Why are you a villain?” you asked

“I don't like people telling me what to do, I like to do what I want on my terms.” He said, “I can't exactly do that if someone has their hands on my wings.”

“So you don't see yourself as a villain?” you asked

“Not really, the Hero public safety commission has been trying to get their hands on me since I was a child, maybe that's why I;m able to be better than most trained heroes.”

“Really now,” you said, so that's why they were so adamant about catching him.

“Haha, they won't ever catch me.” Hawks said “Anyway, I think you need to stop suppressing your quirk. When I saw you use your quirk on that guy who attacked you, you got scared after using your quirk on him.”

“I was mostly angry at him, why did you go after him?” you asked

“It's what I do, I see someone hurting someone else. I don't care if they are a hero, villain, or civilian.” “Well right now you are the only one who is on my side,” you said kicking the ground

“Funny, I feel the same way about you.” He said with a smile, you laughed a bit

“YOu aren't anything like I expected.” you said “I read so many news stories about how you were some evil killer villain, yet here you are having a full conversation with a civilian.”

“Hahah it's kinda funny when you think about it, you get bored easily huh?”

“I do and I hate it.” you said swinging your arms out “I mean each day something over and over again, learning stuff I already know just so I can satisfy my quirk.”

“Well if you got talons use them, you don't see me not using my wings.” he laughed with you “Still you should enjoy your boredom when you can.” “Haha I’ll try, thanks hawks I feel better,” you said

“I feel better too, when you are running from the law you don't have time to sit back and talk much, most people run away screaming.” “Hmm wonder where they would get that idea from,” you said

“Haha yeah wonder where.” Hawks said before his laughter died down. “Still it's getting late. You should head back to your dorm and enjoy a nice cup of tea.”

“I will, thanks for talking to me, you think we will talk again?” you asked

“Maybe if our paths cross again,” he said standing up in the tree

“What does that mean?” you asked, he just tilted his head before smiling, and in the blink of an eye, he was gone only with a gust of wind left in your face.

Maybe it was the fact you were smiling all day the next day that Fumiko was getting worried about you since at lunch she walked over

“Hey…(name) can we talk?” she asked

“Sure,” you said

“Well, Akio is getting out of the hospital and I would like if we can all talk this out,” she said

“Fine, I'll 'talk 'to him,” you said, wanting to see his face and maybe giving him a couple of good slaps.

“Great, I'm glad we can all sweep this under the rug,” she said, no you were not going to sweep this under the rug, what delusional world was she living in.

Still, you went with her to the hospital to see this man again, you and her went into his hospital room and he was slashed up, good you thought.

“Hey Akio how are you feeling?” she asked

“I'm doing good, thanks,” he said

“That's too bad,” you said crossing your arms

“(name) Akio is recovering can’t you try to forgive him?” she asked

“Forgive him, after what he tried to pull,” you said

“Hey, I was drunk. I didn't know what I was doing.” he said.'' Besides, didn't pay the price, I almost died.” you rolled your eyes

“Oh please if the Nighthawk wanted you dead you would be dead.” you said “I let me tell you i will never forgive you, oh you were drunk, you seem sober enough to try to get me home, to walk out of the bar without stumbling, the only reason I'm not taking this to the police is that I know shit bags like you get off with this every time.”

“Hey I was just trying to be nice!” he said, ” Hey Fumiko I thought you said you were here to smooth things over.”

“That's what I thought.” Fumiko said “Hasn't he suffered enough?

“No,” you said, “and if I see you come near me on campus again, you will wish the NIghthawk killed you.”

“(NAME)!” she yelled at you grabbing your arm, you brushed her off

“You are just as bad as he is,” you said and stomped out you got your message across by slamming the door.

You had better things to do anyways like reviewing your notes, you were getting bored again as you tapped your pencil on your desk.

Hawks on the other hand had just got done stopping a purse snatcher, where were the heroes anyway he thought that there should be more around this time as he reattached one of his bigger Primarie feathers, his work still wasn’t done for the night crime never slept there was always something going on somewhere. But he was getting hungry so he might as well grab something to eat as he landed in an alleyway and hid his wings and put his jacket over and walked into a convenient store to grab a bite.

“Is that all?” he asked

“Yup.” Hawks said

“Okay your total is 580 yen,” he said, hawks took out his coin pouch and paid the man, before leaving, convenience store food was easy to get and rather cheap but he was worried he was gonna gain a gut at this point, with his wings he wouldn't have anything hindering his flight ability, he wondered how miss talons were doing right now, maybe he would stop by for a visit.

You were about to pass out at your desk when you heard a tapping at your window, you looked over and saw Hawks hanging upside down tapping at your window. You walked over and opened the door.

“Oh so our paths do meet again it seems,” you said

“You know it chickadee,” he said. “Man convenience store food is good and all but it's so greasy.”

“How do you pay for that?” you asked

“I take money off the people I beat up.” Hawks said, “You look like you are in a bad mood?”

“I am,” you said

“What's got you under the weather?”Hawks asked

“Akio is getting out of the hospital and everyone is telling me to forgive him when I'm not.” You said

“Ahh well if it makes you feel better, I stole his wallet the other day.” Hawks said, you rolled your eyes

“I wish that made me feel better, I don't know why everyone is thinking I'm in the wrong here,” you said

“People are complicated, they don't like to believe someone they know is capable of doing dirty things.” Hawks said rubbing his chin “You can either let other people get you down when you are in the right, or you can know you are right and say screw em.”

“I say they screwed them.” you said “It feels nice to have someone on my side for once, this school sucks.”

“Why don't you leave, do something worth your time?” Hawks asked

“I...can’t,” you said

“OH, I see.” Hawks said, narrowing his eyes and flipping back up on the pole to his feet, “And here I thought you were different.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you said getting a little upset with him

“Nothing, nothing, I just thought you were a woman who did stuff worth her time is all, it's sad to see you wasting your potential here.” Hawks said

“I'm not wasting-” you want to say but a large gust of wind hit your face again and you sighed, before slamming the window shut in anger, anger that you felt like he was right.

#yandere hawks #yandere keigo takami #yandere keigo #yandere takami #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere

26 notes · View notes

hxseok-honee · 4 years

Text

peripeteia | part 20

a/n : AHHHH I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS PLS LMK WHAT YOU THINK also this is the longest thing ive ever written ever im so tired it took all week so i hope its good!

previous | next

tag list !!

@lilacdreams-00 @deepseavibez @heonsbebe @robinbaum143 @lys009 @catbugsugarpea @nogitsune-sama @hobisanie @cosmicdaylight @butterflylion @heyitsnguyen @x-useobwa-x @instantspot@livelovesurfdreams @nam-jonie @bubblegumcat229 @my-chaos-in-stars@gustavkonrad @siredjoonie @nebula-winter @krissykiwi @theunknowncryptid @celiasoti @taeshuworld @dreamcatcherjiah @sterynlis @bitchynightmarepost@coffeeismylife28 @ttriviaseok @wordsbywriters @insaisissables@stresedsyllable @bbyjoonies @irenebutfancier @smarshere @xonfusedsoul @chocobetterknot

______________________________

Y/n is sitting down by the Black Lake when she feels herself becoming faint. A cold sweat breaks on her skin just as her brain starts to feel foggy, and she knows it’s time. It was normal for students to skip class and find a comfortable place to wait on their Clock Day -- Hoseok had told her that it feels a lot like a dream, one that leaves you unable to move or do much of anything until the process is complete, and it was only after a few unlucky souls had fainted in class or on the stairs that professors started allowing students to take the day off in order to ensure everyone’s safety. Of course, lots of students still had the unfortunate experience of being caught off guard in corridors or on the stairs while trying to find a safe place to sit until it passed, so Y/n had traveled in an especially hurried manner while she was coming down to the lake. Luckily she’d picked a great time to settle down because not even ten minutes had passed since she’d arrived. She had been trying not to think of Namjoon on a day like this, but she can’t help that her only thought when she starts to feel sick is that she wished he were there with her.

The cold sweat turns to extreme warmth suddenly and almost violently, and she has to steady herself by putting a hand in the grass and breathing deeply until the world stops spinning. She can tell the edges of her vision are leaving her, the impending blackout looming dangerously close. Overcome by the heat sticking to her like a thousand burning hot knives, she starts to crawl over to the edge of the lake, desperate for something to cool her skin. She makes it there, but not quite with enough time to do anything else. The last thing she sees is her own reflection in the water beneath her. The sight of her eyes clouding over completely -- reminding her not coincidentally of the murky color her divination professor’s eyes turn when overtaken by a vision -- is all that’s left before her eyesight is completely lost and she’s forced to surrender to fate’s will.

The darkness in Y/n’s mind stirs, and she’s filled with the sensation of free-falling. As she drops through space with no end in sight, a small gray dot appears from below. It grows as she approaches it, transforming into a cloud of smoke very rapidly and enveloping her completely as she passes through it. She can feel that this cloud is meant to steady her, slowing her movement until she’s no longer falling, instead floating -- where she’s headed, she has no idea, but as long as she’s no longer falling to her death, she’s happy.

The smoke around Y/n begins to clear, and she notes that her feet are placed gently on hard ground, not far from where she’d been floating for those few moments. The rest of the smoke fades away, the last wisps of it sticking to her surroundings in order to solidify the world she’s landed in. She realizes immediately that she’s standing in the Hospital Wing, only noticing that everything around her is gray and colorless, much like a memory, as an afterthought.

Glancing around, she finds that all of the beds are unoccupied except for the last one on the left side. The curtains are drawn, and Y/n can hear Madame Pomfrey rustling around inside, the matron’s voice carrying over to Y/n. The student inside, a young male student by the sound of it, is whimpering slightly. As Y/n approaches the curtain, she notes that in between noises, he’s breathing heavily, almost sighing in pain.

“It’s alright dear, it’ll pass in no time, I swear it -- oh, there’s no use. Poor boy can’t even hear me.” Pomfrey pushes the curtain out of her way as she exits, carrying a small tub. Y/n watches her walk across the room to a sink, where she pulls a wet towel from the tub and wrings it out, dumping what looks like ice water down the drain when she’s done. Humming softly, Y/n glances back at the curtain and sees it’s been left slightly open, allowing her access to the student inside.

When she peers in, she’s met with the sight of Namjoon -- more specifically, an 11-year-old Namjoon -- lying in the bed, looking much too small and much too ill.

No, he’s not sick. He just looks sick.

The thought crosses Y/n’s mind when she takes him in fully -- when she takes in his eyes. Clouded over completely, staring up at the ceiling as if lost in time, Namjoon is drenched in sweat and is letting out small, periodic whimpers of pain, but he has no idea. He’s experiencing his Clock Day, and there’s no way for him to know how he looks until it’s passed.

Approaching him slowly, Y/n tries to process the information alongside everything she’d believed about Namjoon’s soulmate experience up until this moment. If he’d always known who his soulmate was -- if he’d known since first year -- why hadn’t he said anything? Why had he let everyone believe he was only just having his Clock Day? Why was he hiding his soulmate from them?

Standing over him, observing the emptiness in his gaze and wondering if that’s how she looked right now, somewhere outside of all of this, she can’t help but bring the back of her hand up to the side of his face -- he was just a kid. He had no idea of the man he’d become.

The moment her fingers graze over his cheek, sticky with sweat and unbearable heat, his whimpering stops and his shoulders start to fall, all the tension in them leaving. His eyes shut slowly, and a long sigh leaves him. A chill runs down Y/n’s spine, and she feels a deep panic forming in her chest -- had she hurt him? Was she not supposed to touch him? Did she just affect something and change the future in some way?

Just as she’s starting to truly fall into a pit of despair, Namjoon’s eyes are opening, his eyelashes flickering as he readjusts to the light of the room. His eyes are no longer clouded, but he’s still staring off into distance, trying to process what he’d just discovered. Y/n sits in the armchair beside his bed, watching intently as he blinks a few times before sighing. He looks too serious for a first year.

Hobi was right. No child should ever have to go through this.

The sound of the Hospital Wing doors slamming open shatters the moment of contemplation, prompting Namjoon to crane his neck to try to see past the curtain. Y/n finds herself doing the same. She can hear Pomfrey’s stern reminder for quiet, followed by footsteps -- only one pair, but they’re very hurried, almost a full run. The curtain flies open, and all of the breath in Y/n’s lungs leaves her in an instant.

She’s staring at herself -- a smaller, cuter version of herself. A version of herself that remembers this day with striking clarity. Hearing from Hoseok that Namjoon had felt sick that morning and gone to the Hospital Wing just as dawn had broken, 11-year-old Y/n had raced down to see him, skipping first hour, completely unconcerned with anything that wasn’t the boy lying in bed before her. 17-year-old Y/n remembers the fear that had taken her younger self, her head filled with thoughts of only Kim Namjoon, the smart but troublesome boy she’d met on the train just a few months prior. Y/n remembers the pain that had filled her that day, wanting nothing but to be next to him, and she’s hit with a sudden realization.

Whipping her gaze around to watch Namjoon, she sees that he has yet to say anything to her younger self, simply gazing at her with an unreadable expression on his face. It’s one of immense turmoil, but there’s a glimpse of something else just underneath his pain -- something that looks a lot like hope.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Y/n’s watches the girl with her own face make her way slowly over to Namjoon, setting her bag on the ground before standing beside him. Namjoon remains silent, just watching her -- taking her in with eyes that first year Y/n had never seen before. Taking her in with eyes that she would continue to see over the years but never understand -- eyes that could only start to make sense to 17-year-old Y/n in this moment.

She watches -- the pieces of Kim Namjoon starting to fit together in her mind -- as her younger self becomes uncomfortable under her friend’s gaze and breaks it by reaching out and taking his small hand in her equally tiny one. Y/n watches -- her memories of Kim Namjoon finally forming one coherent vision in her mind -- as young Namjoon stares down at their interlocked hands, her palm sitting perfectly in his, before looking up at her, a smile lingering on the edges of his mouth.

Y/n watches as one of her most prominent memories of Namjoon takes form before her eyes, finally making sense after six years. Staring down into her lap, she tries to make sense of every other memory of him the stands out, but she realizes fairly quickly that there’s no use. Every memory of Namjoon stands out to her. Every single one. Closing her eyes, she lets out a deep sigh, her brain an endless mess of smoke and confusion.

When she opens her eyes, she’s no longer in the Hospital Wing. Everything is still gray, but it’s too dark to tell exactly where she is. She can, however tell that she’s sitting on the edge of something soft -- something that reminds her of her bed. It takes a few moments for her eyes to adjust, but she’s able to see eventually that she’s sitting in a bedroom. However, it isn’t her own.

Skimming her fingers along the blanket around her, it takes no less than ten seconds to find him. Namjoon is sleeping beside her, looking much taller but not much older.

Third year. He grew a foot over summer holiday but still had the face of a kid.

Glancing over at the bed across from her, she confirms that she has the right time when she sees a blond Hoseok -- an experiment they had all regretted participating in -- fast asleep, his mouth hanging open and his limbs all over the place.

Returning her gaze to a 13-year-old Namjoon, Y/n notices with concern that he’s frowning deeply in his sleep, small sighs reaching her ears every few seconds. Leaning in to see him more clearly, she has to hold back a scream -- even knowing full well that he can’t see or hear her -- when his eyes open suddenly. He looks a bit shocked, but more obvious is the expression of sadness on his face. He blinks a few times before sitting up, staring down at the blanket while he thinks. Eventually, he wraps his arms around his knees and hides his face as he curls up. Y/n is overcome with a feeling of immense sadness.

After a few minutes, Namjoon lifts his head, and it pains Y/n to no end to see that he’s been crying. He sniffles once, drying his face with his shirt, before reaching over to his bedside table for his phone. Squinting when the light of his screen tries to blind him, he opens his text thread with 13-year-old Y/n and starts to type a new message. Present Y/n peers over the top of his phone and reads the words upside down, knowing that she probably doesn’t even need to.

NJ : you okay?

Y/N : how did you know i was awake?

NJ : you’re always awake

Y/N : okay well how did you know that im not okay

NJ : i had a bad dream

Y/N : you sound like my grandmother

NJ : got the bones of a grandmother, too

Y/N : you do crackle a lot when you move

NJ : are you going to tell me what’s going on

Y/N : ,,, diana’s sick,, like really sick

Y/N : pomfrey’s trying to treat her

NJ : omw

Y/N : ???

Namjoon throws the blanket off of himself and, scooping up a sweatshirt from on top of his trunk, slides his feet into his slippers and heads out of the dorm as quietly as he can. Y/n follows, knowing exactly where he’s headed. Watching these memories from his point of view, however, is filling in all the gaps in her own, so she can’t help but be intrigued by every moment -- every step Namjoon takes, every time he speeds up a little bit as he covers the distance between himself and the Hospital Wing, every time he slows down as he’s turning corners, still careful of the prefects roaming the corridors. When he finally turns the last corner, Y/n watches as he stops in his tracks, staring down the corridor at a younger Y/n, one who’s been sobbing for hours as she paces in front of the Hospital Wing doors, one who’s already encountered three prefects who have all given her a free pass because of how distraught she is. It’s two in the morning, and Namjoon is staring down the corridor at a Y/n who’s been here since ten and hasn’t said anything to any of them.

Sighing, Namjoon shoves his hands in the pockets of his pajama pants, making his way down to her. She notices him when he’s about halfway there, offering him a weak greeting before resuming her endless pacing. He stops right beside her, watching as his friend passes him once, twice, and then twice more. He finally puts his hand out, latching onto her arm and gripping tightly when she tries to pull away. Wordlessly, he pulls her toward him, bringing her into his arms and securing her in his hold when she finally falls into him, losing all of her strength.

Throwing her arms around Namjoon, she cries into his neck, needing him much more than he could ever know. All he does know is that he’d been woken from his sleep, filled with an impossible sadness that made him want to run to her, wherever she would have been. He would have run to her even if she’d been in the forest, or off the grounds entirely. He’d needed to find her because he feared his chest would cave in from the amount of pain he felt when he didn’t have her next to him. He’d wanted to take all of her sorrow away, but in the process of finding her he realized that he could breathe again once he had her.

Walking them slowly over to the wall just outside of the Hospital Wing, Namjoon pulls away from Y/n just for the time it takes for them to sit down together, and then she’s back in his arms, leaning against him heavily as he whispers words of comfort to her. They stay like that until just before breakfast, when Pomfrey comes out and sees that they’ve fallen asleep, clinging to each other tightly. Unbeknownst to anyone, 17-year-old Y/n is sleeping not too far away, having drifted off while watching them talk throughout the night.

When she wakes, it’s still dark, but she’s sitting in a well-lit corridor. More importantly, she’s sitting across from an even older Namjoon, who’s perched on a windowsill scrolling through his phone even though it’s well past curfew. Rubbing her eyes as she stands, Y/n makes her way over to him, leaning in to see what he’s up to. There on his screen is a picture of the prefect schedule, and he keeps zooming in and out of the section with Y/n’s name on it. She chuckles, shaking her head as she takes a seat next to him and waits for whatever’s to come.

Only a few minutes pass before footsteps can be heard echoing nearby. Namjoon perks up, putting his phone away and looking toward the end of the corridor expectantly -- Y/n can’t help but smile at how cute he is. Following his gaze, she watches as her younger self turns the corner, wand well-lit despite the castle lighting being phenomenal in this area. She’s showing off her freshly polished prefect’s badge and smiling as she does her patrol. Y/n looks at this younger version of herself and has to hold back a laugh.

Oh, to be fifteen and a total dork.

Y/n watches as her younger self looks straight ahead, completely focused on her duties, and she’s fond of this annoying rule-follower she used to be. She remembers clearly how happy she’d been to be named prefect, and she’d wanted to do her best. So she’d polished her badge and kept her notepad ready and gone on her first patrol in a dweeby kind of excitement. Not even an hour in, she’d found Namjoon.

“Joon? What are you doing?” Namjoon smiles, waving her over excitedly. With a cautious look on her face, she approaches her friend, who she is well aware had become a bit of a troublemaker over the years but still finds him adorable and harmless. He pulls his bag off his shoulder and starts to open it, talking as he does.

“Well, I didn’t know if patrol would be boring or lame, so I brought you a book just in case!” An enormous smile fills her face, and she laughs softly as he pulls out a stack of reading materials. “Okay, actually I brought a lot because I didn’t know what you’d like… hopefully you like books on various niche topics and magical research.” He lifts his gaze, beaming up at her as he holds out the stack of books, waiting for her to choose. Y/n puts her wand away, stepping up him and glancing through the titles. She pulls one out that has magical creatures on the cover and nods decisively as she flips through it.

“This one looks cool.” She stops leafing through the pages to watch Namjoon as he puts the rest back and begins to ramble.

“Oh, that’s a great choice! They have this awesome chapter on veelas and the genetic traits that get passed down to their children, which is super cool when you think about half-veelas or quarter-veelas or even one-eighth-veelas, which are kinda rare, but-” He cuts himself off, realizing that he’s gone on for far too long and taking a sheepish glance at Y/n. She’s smiling at him so sweetly he swears his heartbeat actually stutters for a moment, but he clears his throat and points at the book in her hand. “I should stop talking… don’t want to spoil it for you.” Y/n tucks the book under her arm, aiming her smile down at her feet as she responds.

“Thanks, Joon, I’ll make sure to tell you what I think of it when I’m done… by the way, you do realize you’re out after curfew, right?” Namjoon hums awkwardly, lifting his bag onto his shoulder as he stands.

“I’m only out if you say I am.”

“What does that even mean?” Namjoon laughs at her confusion, reaching out and locating a piece of hair that’s fallen into her face. He runs it back until it’s tucked safely behind her ear, at that point letting his arm fall to his side and taking a couple steps back.

“You suddenly have no recollection of seeing me tonight… that book is yours now. Have a good first patrol, Y/n. I’m proud of you.” Not giving her enough time to respond, Namjoon turns on his heel and disappears down another corridor, one leading to Ravenclaw Tower. Y/n just stands there staring after him, only remembering the book in her arms when it just about falls to the ground.

The older Y/n watches her younger self look back through the book for a bit before lifting her gaze to the spot where Namjoon disappeared, a small smile gracing her features and she starts to wander down her route for the night, almost no attention paid to anything outside of her new book. Y/n knows well that she’d return to her room that night and place it on her bedside table, picking it up every night to read just a bit more, as it was an admittedly difficult book deserving only of Ravenclaw eyes. She would eventually get through it, and then she’d read it again to really feel like she got it all. It still sits on her bedside table, always unpacked at the beginning of the year and put in its own spot next to her.

Y/n waits as the scene fades around her, and the space fills up with new setting -- soon she’s surrounded by the castle staircases.

She knows this scene well -- it’s the day that she’d fallen down the stairs from Tae and Jimin’s prank. She can tell by the crowd of people that’s gathering. 6th year Y/n hasn’t made it there yet, still in a meeting with Dumbledore about prefect matters that was running a little late at the moment.

This was supposed to be the ultimate prank of the year -- and it certainly was memorable, but not entirely for that reason. Jimin had just had his Clock Day not even a week prior, and he and Tae were celebrating their newfound love the only way they knew how. The entire school knew about it, and the professors had long given up trying to stop the two Slytherin troublemakers. Someone steps up beside 7th year Y/n, busy scrolling through their phone. She looks up and is met with the sight of 6th year Namjoon, smiling down at his screen as he bombards Y/n with annoying texts, complaining that she was late. Yoongi’s standing with Jin, Jungkook, and Hoseok not even five feet away, and he calls out to Namjoon excitedly when he spots the Ravenclaw.

“Joon! Over here, over here! We got some great spots to watch the show!” Jungkook bites his lip and looks away, hiding his extremely fond smile. Jin and Hoseok make amused eye contact, and Y/n can see now by Jin’s lingering gaze and their small grins that they’d been dating for a while and that the rest of them were all just blind to their very obvious love.

Yoongi makes his way over to the tall boy beside her, striking up a conversation about his new plant and some fun caretaking methods he’d found online the other day. Namjoon nods along, still slightly distracted as he glances around the massive crowd for his favorite person. He has his back just turned enough to not be able to see that 6th year Y/n has emerged not too far away and is searching for her friends. Y/n watches her younger self make her way along the side of the banister in their general direction, and she’s very aware of what’s to come in the next few moments.

Jimin and Tae had bewitched the staircases to move on their command, shifting them out of their normal rotation pattern in order to lock them firmly into the sides of the walls they’re attached to, effectively creating a cavern more than 10 stories high, giving them room to set off the insane amount of fireworks they’d made all the way from the Slytherin dungeons. The fireworks were supposed to go to the very top of the castle, exploding just before they crashed into the ceiling. They were never set off.

As Y/n was looking for her friend group, knowing they’d be somewhere close to the stair banisters, but having no idea what the plan was, she’d stepped out onto one of the staircases to get a better angle to find her friends. Since her meeting had run late, she’d missed the very aggressive announcement from Tae that no one should step onto the stairs for at least ten minutes before the show started, and the chaotic soulmates were down in the dungeons, just about to execute their plan. They never saw her.

Y/n can’t bring herself to watch what she already has painfully etched into her memory, choosing instead to watch Namjoon converse with Yoongi in the moments before her tragic staircase accident. She’s extremely lucky she’d been watching him.

She knows that the staircases have started moving when she hears people cheering, but she actually knows almost half a second before that. A painful, ice cold chill runs down the length of her spine -- it’s like nothing she’s ever felt before, and she’s felt the fear of falling 20 feet off of a staircase.

She realizes that the feeling is coming from Namjoon -- he’s the one feeling that ice cold pain coursing through his veins. It’s as if the world stops -- one second, he’s listening to Yoongi explain how to pick the right terrarium, and the next, he can’t hear anything at all. Y/n also can’t hear a thing -- everything’s muffled, and all she can hear is a heartbeat, thumping so loudly, so quickly that it could only belong to the girl who’s currently tumbling down a set of stairs into a free fall.

Namjoon turns, and Y/n can see that he knows exactly where her younger self is without having ever seen her. With a strength that she didn’t even know he possessed, he shoves past every person between him and the banister, literally knocking some poor Hufflepuff boy to the ground as he rushes to the stairs.

Throwing himself against the side of the wall when he gets there, Namjoon finds Y/n’s eyes almost instantly -- she’s staring up at him as she falls, still in shock at what’s happening. Y/n won’t remember until this very moment, when she’s standing in her own memory, but she’d seen Namjoon take action as she was falling. He hadn’t been quite fast enough -- she’d still hit the second set of stairs and pass out right there -- but he had managed to slow her down before she’d landed.

Namjoon pulls his wand out of his pocket so fast that the older Y/n hadn’t even seen him do it. Pointing it straight down at her, he calls after her, a silent spell manifesting from nothing but the force of his own will -- the force of his complete and total terror that something would happen to her. It’s the first time he’d ever been able to successfully cast a silent spell, having complained for weeks that he wasn’t able to get it no matter how much he practiced. Y/n feels it all in that moment, all of the soul-shattering fear Namjoon was carrying, and she has to lean heavily on the wall to steady herself, wondering how he’d managed to push past that and cast the spell successfully.

The spell hits Y/n squarely in the chest, instantly slowing her fall. It isn’t enough to prevent her arm from breaking, and it isn’t enough to stop her from complaining for the next full week about a backache, but it is enough to soften the landing and keep her safe from something much worse. They’d been lucky, really -- the stairs she’d landed on just happened to be passing beneath her on its way to its formation. If another second had gone by, she’d still be falling into the dungeons.

Y/n watches everything from above, and she can hear everyone jumping into action. She can hear everyone’s cheers turn into gasps of terror, and she can hear her friends all calling for her, all rushing to the nearest staircase to get down to her. She can even see down into the dungeons, where Tae is holding a firework and a flame, where Jimin is calling out to him frantically to stop. But most clearly, she can see that Namjoon is already at her side, having scaled over the top of the wall and essentially taken his chances at getting down to her as quickly as possible without falling. He’s shaking her furiously, grabbing her face and yelling for someone to alert Pomfrey when she doesn’t respond, already out cold. Jin is yelling down at Jimin and Tae, instructing them to move the staircases carefully so Namjoon can get her to the Hospital Wing.

Namjoon holds tightly onto the side of staircase as Tae brings it around to the corridor leading straight to the Hospital Wing, gripping Y/n tightly in his other arm as they go. He doesn’t even wait for the stairs to stop moving -- as soon as they’re close enough, he’s scooping her up in his arms and running full speed into the passageway, disappearing from view completely.

Y/n watches the rest of the room devolve into chaos -- Jimin and Tae fly up from the depths of the dungeon on Jimin’s broomstick, gesturing wildly at their friends as they all barrel down the nearest staircase together in an attempt to follow after Namjoon. Jin is pulling Hoseok along by his hand as they race to the front of the group, Jin trying to get Hoseok to his best friend as fast as possible. Yoongi is clinging to Jungkook’s side, eyes wet, and she can see him whispering mantras of positivity to himself as they go. She can see he doesn’t believe them even as he says them, and Jungkook is the one to take over and reinforce the words as they run together. Jimin is guiding himself and Tae up the cavern and back around as Tae shouts for the crowd to disperse, threatening to set the fireworks off in a dangerous way if they don’t all get lost. He looks very much like the Slytherin he is but never shows to the world.

Everyone leaves just as Dumbledore is running into the space, commanding the attention of the two Slytherins. Jimin looks back at Tae and, knowing full well how much trouble they’d be in if they got caught, they head straight for the headmaster. Landing beside him, they don’t even give him a chance to start reprimanding them -- they both start yelling at the same time, pointing desperately in the direction of the Hospital Wing and begging him to come with them to see if he can do anything. The old wizard is so thrown by the display that all he can do is follow after them as they run to join their friends.

Y/n watches everything from the top of the stairs. She sees everything -- all of the chaos, all of the fear -- and she thinks about the fact that she’d had absolutely no idea any of this had happened. She’d passed out and woken up a day later, in a world of pain but thankfully not seriously hurt. She’d watched her friends come and go every day, and she’d noted that Namjoon only ever left her side to eat and shower when he was sure she was sleeping. It was the only thing she knew about the entire accident, and it wasn’t even close to what actually had happened. She doesn’t even notice when the scene changes, too caught up in her own thoughts to register the smoke filling her vision and flowing into something new.

The smoke clears, leaving her shrouded in trees and darkness. She’s standing at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the moon full and bright above her. She can’t see Namjoon anywhere, so she starts heading in the direction of the castle, its silhouette visible in the distance. She’s about halfway there when she hears it.

“Namjoon likes me, Namjoon likes me!”

“How did they make you Head Girl? You’re a child!” Unable to mask her smile, Y/n hurries out past the treeline and in the direction of the voices, this memory much more recent. Just there past a grove of trees sits a cluster of rocks, outlining the edge of the lake well. Namjoon is heading over to them now, hopping carefully until he gets to a spot that he likes. Y/n can barely make out her younger self, herself from not even a few months ago, crouched by the lake, running her fingers through the water lightly. Y/n heads toward Namjoon just as her other self is yelling back to him.

“This water’s cold as fuck!” Y/n remembers the feeling that comes next, but it’s a different experience in Namjoon’s perspective. That feeling of adoration she’d felt all those weeks ago down by the lake -- the feeling that had left her wondering what her soulmate was up to at the time -- makes sense now. It makes complete sense to her, just as everything about Namjoon is finally starting to make sense. Every glance, every smile. He’d always known. He’d just been waiting for her to notice him -- he’d been waiting for her to love him.

A quiet yelp followed by a bit of rustling catches Y/n’s attention, and she’s not surprised to find Namjoon has already caught her from wiping out on the rocks and is holding her gently, just a few feet away. Feeling strangely intrusive, Y/n averts her eyes, settling down on the rocks and staring out at the lake while her younger self shares her first intimate moment with Namjoon.

A few moments later, the sound of mumbling, followed soon by paper being slapped on skin, alerts Y/n of her own exit from an awkward moment. Turning back to the scene, she catches herself running away in the distance -- truly a humorous sight indeed -- but her attention is on Namjoon. He’s staring down at the detention slip that had been stuck to his face, chuckling slightly to himself. Y/n’s heart warms at the fondness in his expression, thankful that he hadn’t been discouraged by her behavior.

“This girl, I swear…” He starts to head back into the castle, and Y/n can tell she’s meant to follow. They make their way slowly through the castle, Y/n watching as Namjoon gets lost in his thoughts. They make it all the way up to Ravenclaw Tower, where Namjoon stops suddenly just before the entrance to his common room. He’s still lost in his thoughts, but there’s a smile spreading slowly across his face. It finally reaches his eyes, and suddenly he’s spinning around in the corridor, punching the air and literally bouncing in place as quietly as he can.

“She almost kissed me!” Running up to the door to his common room, he completely ignores the riddle that the eagle knocker asks him.

“Did you hear what I said? She almost kissed me! Can you believe it?” The eagle knocker remains silent while Namjoon parades around in front of the door, eventually opening its mouth.

“How lovely. Please answer the question.” Halting his excited bouncing to glare at the knocker, Namjoon answers the riddle with an impatient wave of his hand. The door slides open, allowing Namjoon to rush into the common room and up the stairs to his room, Y/n following behind in a shocked daze at Namjoon’s display. Throwing the door open and barely managing to get his shoes off, Namjoon hops on top of his bed, chanting happily.

“Hobi, wake up, wake up! She almost kissed me tonight -- wake up, bitch! I’m having a moment here!” Y/n watches from the door as Hoseok rolls over in his bed and reaches for something she can’t see. Their third roommate, a kind but rather quiet boy named Roger, starts to whine loudly, begging Namjoon to quiet down. She feels bad for him -- he’s been put through a lot with them as roommates -- but she forgets about him completely when she sees Hoseok’s shoe fly across the room with shocking speed and accuracy. It hits Namjoon in the face, sending him tumbling to the ground instantly.

“Shut it, you overgrown kindergartner! If I sleep through first hour tomorrow, I’m ripping every single one of your hairs out of your head with my bare hands!” Despite the pout that forms on Namjoon’s face as he sits on the ground holding Hoseok’s shoe, Y/n can’t help but laugh at the interaction, very typical of her two Ravenclaw boys. He sits there for a few more seconds, enough time for Y/n to cross the room and take a seat on the trunk at the foot of his bed. Watching him carefully, she’s pleased to see that his frown soon becomes a smile once again as he recalls the events of that night.

Climbing onto his bed, he reaches into his pocket for his phone, sending Y/n what she remembers to be a very sweet goodnight text. Once that’s done, he tosses the phone onto his bedside table before taking it upon himself to flop back onto his mattress dramatically, smiling dreamily up at the ceiling. The last thing Y/n sees before the smoke pulls her away is Namjoon placing a hand on his chest and scrunching up the material of his shirt -- the material that lies just above his heart -- and closing his eyes, the smile lingering on his lips.

The moment the smoke places her in her next memory, Y/n realizes it isn’t a memory at all. She’s standing in a massive group of people -- her entire class. They all have smiles on their faces, and they’re all hugging one another and taking photos. But this isn’t what she notices - it’s their outfits. All the same, all identical. The cap and gown.

Graduation? But this is months away…

Her own laughter reaches her ears, and it doesn’t take much longer to find herself. She -- her older self? -- is standing with the rest of their friends, laughing as Diana tries to chew on Jungkook’s dress pants. Only five of them are wearing gowns, the Slytherins and Jungkook still stuck at Hogwarts for another year. Hoseok is taking photos of Jin, who looks like he’s suffering not only from the heat, but also from his boyfriend’s scrutiny.

“Come on, Jin! Just one smile for the camera, and I will let this go -- my mom wants a photo!”

“Why does it have to be of just me? She’s your mom!”

“Because she says you’re the most handsome person she’s ever seen, and I completely agree.” Jin waves Hoseok off, unwilling to take the photo. That is, until he makes eye contact with Yoongi, who’s standing just a little ways away. At the sight of his roommate pulling a mini magical cactus from within his robe and brandishing it at Jin menacingly, Jin turns to Hoseok with a wide smile.

“I love photos, let’s take ten!” Confused but pleasantly surprised, Hoseok lets Jin lead him off toward the lake for their photoshoot. Y/n starts to laugh uncontrollably as she watches Yoongi tuck the cactus back into his robes innocently, and it unnerves her to see that her older self has also witnessed the exchange and is laughing alongside her.

Turning back to the larger friend group, almost desperate to avoid another coincidence with herself, she finds Namjoon bent at Jungkook’s feet, trying to keep his cap on his head as he wrestles Diana from Jungkook’s leg. Jungkook is crying out in pain at the claws that have been buried in his ankle -- no one sees that Jimin and Tae are enjoying the show immensely, even going so far as to start recording the entire thing.

When he finally manages to remove the cat from the poor Gryffindor’s limb, Namjoon stands and turns to Y/n, narrowly avoiding a claw to his face in the process.

“Please tell your demon cat that scratching people’s ankles off is rude as fuck.” Y/n laughs, reaching for Diana and cooing at her once she’s safely in Y/n’s arms.

“It’s not her fault Jungkook is such a thicc boy and attracts the attention of anything that wants a bite -- isn’t that right, Diana?” Diana curls up and purrs in response, sending everyone into a fit of laughter and comments about Jungkook’s thiccness as the Gryffindor scowls at the cat. The younger Y/n almost joins their laughter, but something catches her eye before she has time to look away from her older self.

Just there on her left hand -- the same hand that is cradling Diana -- sits a ring, one she’d never seen before. Ignoring the discomfort of being so close to a version of herself that didn’t exist yet, she approaches the girl in front of her, taking the ring in fully. A small diamond is nested in the band of it, shining brightly despite its size. She can’t stop herself from looking up at Namjoon, who stands beside her older self. He’s staring down at her, the smile on his face one of humor from the current situation, but also one of love and adoration, known only to them.

Y/n watches the moment and knows she’s the only one who can see it, despite being the only one who isn’t physically there. She can see how much Namjoon loves her and how happy he is to be able to show it. As the scene fades, she can’t help but wonder if what she’s seeing is really the future -- the image of a Namjoon who hasn’t acknowledged her in weeks comes back to her, only serving to bring pain into her heart. She doesn’t bother to try to see where the smoke is taking her.

She’s staring down at a wooden floor, in a house she doesn’t recognize. Lifting her gaze and glancing around, however, she finds that it’s quite a nice home. The smoke had left her standing in the middle of the kitchen, and she can’t help but run her fingers along the counter top as she makes her way through the room. It’s spotless, but it looks lived in.

Comfortable. Beautiful.

Passing under an archway that opens into the main room, she can see stairs leading up to the second floor, the front door just past them. Taking in everything as she moves through the room -- the sofa draped in various warm blankets, the tattered book sitting open on the coffee table, the array of house plants sitting on the windowsill -- she can’t help but feel like this home is perfect for her. Just as she makes it to the stairs and is putting a foot on the first step, the sound of rustling in a room off to the right calls her attention.

Approaching the room, she peeks her head around the doorway and finds herself looking into an office, lit with the warmth of a fireplace crackling softly in the corner. She doesn’t even see the person sitting at the desk until they lift their head, clearly awakening from an unexpected nap.

Namjoon stretches in his seat, arms reaching high above his head as he lets out a tired groan. He looks older, maybe by 4 or 5 years. There’s a stack of files next to where he’d been napping on the desk, and there’s a smear of ink across his right cheek from his quill. Looking around his immediate area, he swears softly under his breath.

“Where did I put them?” He’s just about to stick his head under the desk to search for his missing item when a quiet meow rings through the room. Y/n looks down just in time to see a very familiar cat entering the room, a pair of round specs dangling from her mouth. She hops up onto the desk once she reaches it, taking a seat on top of whatever Namjoon had been working on before dropping his glasses into his outstretched hand. With a fond smile, he places the glasses on his face before scratching the back of the cat’s ear.

“Thanks, Diana. I knew you’d like me one day.” Y/n watches the exchange, filled with a mixture of disbelief and joy. Never once in the seven years she’d known Namjoon had Diana expressed anything other than complete disdain for the Ravenclaw, and yet here it seems they’ve been friends for ages.

The front door opens behind her, followed by the soft call of a voice that sounds much like hers but more mature.

“I’m home! Joon?” She watches Namjoon smile as he peers through her into the other room.

“In here!” An older Y/n -- 4 or 5 years older -- steps up beside her younger, shocked self in the doorway. She’s wearing business attire, and she’s carrying a bag of takeaway, which she holds up for Namjoon to see. She looks poised, impressive -- but she still looks like herself. She doesn’t look like a stuck-up adult. She just looks… older.

She looks pretty freaking cool.

“I saw you still had a lot of assignments to grade when I was leaving this morning, so I got your favorite.” Namjoon cheers, moving to stand from his seat but taking the time to point cutely at Diana, still seated peacefully on his work.

“Diana brought me my glasses! I think she finally likes me.” He looks very proud of this fact, even reaching out to pet her one last time. She swipes at his hand in anger, scratching his palm slightly. They glare at each other for a moment before Namjoon gets up, shaking his head. “One day she’ll love me.”

“Namjoon, we’ve been married for five years and she only just today did one nice thing for you. You’ve still got a way to go with her.” Rolling his eyes, he approaches Y/n and leans forward, planting a kiss on her lips. Younger Y/n has to look away, slightly shaken by the unexpected display. Only when he’s pulled away does she feel comfortable enough to look again, attributing the warmth in her face the fireplace not too far away.

“How was work?” Y/n sighs, reaching out with her free hand to wipe at the ink on his face, giving away that he’d been napping just before she arrived.

“It was fine. The Minister’s been on us to meet fiscal year deadlines as if we’re not drowning in his debt. I’m just happy to be home.” The tired look in her eyes fades once she starts smiling up at Namjoon, who’s taken her free hand in his own and started leaning against the door frame while he was listening to her. It puts him in the perfect position to bring his lips to the top of her head in a comforting kiss, which only serves to widen her smile.

“Well, Mrs. Kim, you are doing a fine job over there at the Ministry. Meanwhile, I was so confused about the fact that one of my students doesn’t know the difference between transformation and switching that I took a stress nap instead of writing feedback for him.” He laughs lightly when Y/n puts her index finger against his forehead and pushes him away from her. Diana following closely behind, she heads into the kitchen, calling back to him.

“Not everyone is good at transfiguration, Joon -- remember how I was? I would have failed my N.E.W.T without you.”

“Yeah, well, maybe if we’d done more studying instead of messing around that night you would have gotten a better score.” Younger Y/n blushes deeply, barely managing to follow behind Namjoon as he heads into the kitchen as well.

“I passed, didn’t I? And if I remember correctly, I’m the one that actually wanted to study -- you just got bored because you’re a know-it-all.” He barks out a laugh.

“Guilty as charged, but can you blame me? I waited seven years for you to love me, I was obsessed with you once we started dating… I still kind of am obsessed with you.” Younger Y/n watches Namjoon corner her older self between two counter tops, smiling cheekily down at her and laughing when she pushes lightly against his chest. Taking her in his arms, he suddenly becomes serious, his smile dropping.

“Y/n?” Both of the women in question keep their eyes on Namjoon, entranced by him, just as it had always been -- entranced by his presence from the moment he’d come into her life.

“Thank you for loving me.”

Y/n can feel herself reaching out to him, disregarding the futility in it, but she doesn’t get the chance to call out to him. The smoke has started to fill her vision -- but it doesn’t transform the room smoothly. This time, something takes hold of the back of her belt, latching onto her and yanking her upwards, out of the smoke entirely. Muffling her scream with her hand, she watches the cloud of smoke shrink below her until it becomes the spec of grey she’d seen when this all started. She screws her eyes shut, dizzy from the climb -- confused beyond belief but finding her resolve in the truth.

When Y/n opens her eyes, she’s staring at the lake, and it’s gotten much darker. She’s also much farther away from the lake than she remembers being when she first fainted -- she can see more of the shoreline, and she’s fairly certain she’s under a tree. Trying to scan her surroundings, she tilts her head up before coming to a stop, registering that there’s something very soft underneath her cheek.

“You’re awake.” The voice, although familiar and comforting, is a shock all the same, so she jumps in surprise, turning her head to locate it. She finds herself staring up into Namjoon’s eyes, and she realizes belatedly that the soft thing under her is his leg. Lifting herself off of him with her elbow, she takes the time to glance around -- there’s no need to examine the grounds, of course. She just isn’t prepared to face Namjoon.

“How did you know where I was?” She says this while glancing around herself still, adjusting her positioning until she’s leaning back against the tree. Namjoon shifts next to her, bringing his knees up to his chest and resting his chin while he stares out at the lake.

“I could feel that it was starting… and I just knew where to find you.” Y/n nods, deciding to just be satisfied with his response instead of questioning the mechanics of it. They sit in silence for a few minutes, simply staring out at the lake together as the sun begins to set. She can feel that Namjoon’s waiting for her to say something, so, gathering her courage, she turns to him, holding her tongue until he’s met her eyes, which he does after a brief pause.

“You knew this entire time?” Namjoon looks away quickly, unable to face her. He nods once, and she takes this as her signal to continue, her frustrations with him over the past few weeks boiling to the surface. “Then why have you been avoiding me? What’s been going on with you?” Groaning deeply, he leans back against the tree, his limbs dropping into a sort of sprawled position beside her. His eyes are shut, brow furrowed. He looks conflicted.

“I was an idiot --”

“That’s a massive understatement.” His eyes find hers, and he turns fully to face her, his expression earnest and a bit desperate.

“I freaked out, Y/n. When Hobi said it wasn’t guaranteed that we’d end up together, my entire world fell apart. I had always assumed we’d be together and that I just had to wait for you to find out it was me -- I thought it was enough that I loved you. But then he started talking about free will and people without soulmates and losing the emotional connection and -- I lost it, okay? I lost it. Everything I’d believed about us for the last seven years was ripped apart… but I was an asshole.”

“Yeah. You were.” His eyes drift down until he’s staring at the ground, clearly humbled and apologetic. “But… I understand --” When he whips his head up to look at her, his eyes appear to have become hopeful. “I mean, what you did was fucked up, the boys are really upset--” His head dips again, his frown deepening. “But I understand why you freaked out. I just… wish you had handled it better.” They sit in silence together, Y/n staring down at the top of Namjoon’s head while he waits beside her, looking not unlike a scolded child.

“Did you think I would be mad once I found out you’d known all this time about us?” He glances up at her briefly before returning his gaze to lap, where he finds great interest in picking at his fingernails. Slowly, and only after a small sigh, he nods, still refusing to meet her eyes.

“Even after everything we’ve been through -- all of the flirting and the deep talks and late nights together?” Another nod. “Do you realize how stupid that is?” He stops fidgeting, choosing instead to examine the ground extensively while he thinks. Finally, he nods, pulling his head up to look into her eyes before nodding again, gaze solemn.

“I know. I’m really sorry. You have no idea how painful it was to know I’d hurt you… I just thought that if you really were going to choose someone else -- or at the very least if you were going to be disappointed in me being your soulmate -- I… just thought I should distance myself beforehand… But I hated every second of it, and I wish I could take it all back... I’m sorry.” He looks like he’s going to continue, but Y/n stops him. Reaching out, she takes one of his hands in hers, intertwining their fingers while nodding.

“Okay. I forgive you -- it’s going to be hard for me to trust you fully again, but I forgive you.” She squeezes his hand, and for the first time since waking up, she smiles at him. Taking her in, Namjoon can’t help but feel overwhelmed with affection, and he knows she can feel it when she starts to snicker at him. Nudging her playfully, he turns back to the lake, sitting beside her as they lean against the tree. Their hands lie clasped in her lap, a slight zap of electricity running through their palms every few seconds. The feeling is new but warm, one of completeness.

“So… what was your Clock Day like?” She doesn’t bother turning to look at him when she asks, knowing he’ll just keep staring out at the water while he ponders.

“It was… a lot to handle as a first year.” She nods, remembering Hobi’s words once again. “There weren’t very many memories, actually. It was mostly visions of the future. We hadn’t known each other that long -- how could I have anything substantial to remember yet? Actually… do you remember coming to visit me in the Hospital Wing?”

“Yeah, of course. That was my first memory.” He hums, thinking about that day a little longer.

“I knew you would be coming. It was the first vision that the smoke showed me.” She smiles fondly at that term -- “the smoke” -- because she knew there was no other way to talk about it. The inner workings of fate and magic were too advanced for any one person to understand and talk about eloquently. “It showed me that you were on your way -- when you showed up, I thought ‘Ah, so my future really has been decided’. But then… things kept changing.” Y/n looks up at him, taking in the expression on his face. He looks lost, confused about the truth -- but there’s something resigned about it, as if he’d accepted that the world was much different than he thought.

“What changed?” He looks down at her before dropping his eyes to their intertwined hands.

“The way I’d seen my future wasn’t the way it always turned out. Eventually I figured out at that the visions the smoke shows you aren’t set in stone -- they’re more potentialities than fact. There was something about the way our reality developed that changed things along the way -- sometimes they were just small details, but sometimes entire events were different… like your accident.” With a furrowed brow and concerned interest, Y/n leans in, urging Namjoon silently to continue. He does so only after a sigh.

“You weren’t supposed to become a prefect. In my visions, we were just normal kids who got into equal amounts of trouble and made it through school without anything remarkable happening. But you were always a high achiever, so when you were made prefect, I was surprised, but happy for you all the same… except… if you hadn’t become a prefect, you wouldn’t have been late to the fireworks show. We would have gone together, and you would have heard the announcement about the stairs because you wouldn’t have been in a meeting that had run late. I wasn’t prepared for you to fall because that wasn’t the reality I had seen… I had no idea that day was going to happen.”

They sit in silence, staring out at the lake together as the words settle in the air above them. It weighs down on them -- the complications of fate and reality, the power of free will in a world ruled by destiny. Things never turn out quite like they’re supposed to, and Y/n can only guess how unimaginably terrifying that would be for someone who’d relied on fate for so long.

“That’s why you were scared I wouldn’t want to be with you -- you were already nervous that things had turned out differently up to this point, so hearing that not even our future is guaranteed tipped you over the edge.” She can see him nodding out of the corner of her eye, and she finally feels like she understands. “Well, even if you have acted like an idiot for the last few weeks, I still want to be with you. I think I always have.” Namjoon squeezes her hand tightly, a breath of relief leaving him -- one that, frankly, she had no idea he’d been holding.

“Well that’s good because I already picked out the necklace I was going to give you at graduation, and it would just be plain awkward to return it.” She turns to him in confusion.

“Necklace? In my vision it was an engagement ring… to be honest, I’m not ready to get married yet.” Namjoon looks at her, eyes shining with mirth.

“That’s also good to hear… I don’t have the money to buy you a ring yet.” She pushes him away, laughter ringing through the air. The word “yet” doesn’t go unnoticed, however, and she tries to hide her face from him as redness creeps up her cheeks. If he catches her blush, he doesn’t say anything about it, instead choosing to move onto a different subject.

“Did you… have a vision about us a few years from now? Living together in a really nice house? I think I was taking a nap?” Y/n smiles and closes her eyes, finding herself leaning against Namjoon as she reminisces on the vision.

“Yeah, you were grading Transfiguration homework, and I was getting home from work… I worked for the Ministry.” He hums, wrapping an arm around her as he reflects on her words.

“In mine you worked at St. Mungo’s -- you were a healer.” There’s a pause, and then he chuckles under his breath. “I think I like you as a healer better. ‘Healer Y/n’ has a sexy ring to it.” With a scoff that sounds a lot more like a laugh than she’d care to admit, Y/n is pushing herself off of him and rising to her feet, leaving him behind as she heads down to the lake. Namjoon’s hand around her wrist a few moments later, pulling her back into his chest, has her laughing openly. Her hands find his waist, where she anchors herself and clings to him, reveling in the fact that she can do this kind of thing now.

They stand there for a while, watching the sun set over the horizon, thinking about their lives up until that point. When the last of the light disappears below the water, Y/n takes a deep breath and lifts her head from Namjoon’s chest to look up at him. Feeling that she’s moved, he glances down at her, realizing only when their noses touch just how close they are.

In a rush of courage that can only be the mark of a Gryffindor, Y/n pushes up on her tippy toes, pressing her lips to his as gently as possible. She isn’t ready for the way the world seems to stop all around her -- she isn’t ready for the way her heart stops, a flame finding its spark within the cavern of her chest. It spreads like wildfire to the rest of her body, getting stronger the longer she kisses him. It burns through her and attracts her to him like an addiction all the same. The love she feels for him in that moment -- coupled with the force of Namjoon reciprocating the emotions, completely in time with her -- is enough to set her skin alight, tearing through every nerve in her body.

Only when it’s too much -- when she feels like she’s going to explode with this burning energy -- does she pull away, breathing embarrassingly hard. She can’t even tell that he’s having the same difficulties as her, having also just experienced the pure collision of forces that had knocked the wind out of her. He barely has time to register that she’s leaning her head against his chest and is whispering something to him in her surge of emotion. What he hears has him lifting her face with his hands as he yearns for another kiss, seven years overdue.

“Thank you, Namjoon… Thank you for waiting for me.”

#bts texts #bts au #bts smau #bts social media au #bts soulmate au #bts hogwarts au #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon texts #namjoon au

279 notes · View notes

drreidfics · 3 years

Text

Dr. Reid and the Broken Girl pt1.

DR. REID AND THE BROKEN GIRL (Working Title)

Characters : SpencerReid x FemReader

Warnings : Abuse, Hints of Self Harm.

CAUTION // TW // THIS BOOK DEALS WITH MATURE CONTENT SUCH AS PROFESSOR AND STUDENT RELATIONSHIP, SEXUAL ASSULT, SELF HARM, MENTAL ILLNESS AND SUBSTANCE ABUSE. IT ALSO INCLUDES A LOT OF RATED-R MATERIAL. IF THIS IS TRIGGERING OR MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE THEN PLEASE DON’T READ.

Here I am again, on the floor, begging him to stop. There he is again, laughing at my pleas and forcing himself inside of me. Almost every night he climbs into my bed, then in the morning, he pretends everything is normal. When anyone is around, he acts charming. He is able to trick everyone into thinking everything is fine. Well, it's not.

My phone buzzed to life at the side of me. The alarm was going off but I had been up for hours, staring at the flecks of dust dancing around the air. The sunlight streamed in through my thin, white drapes. It was beautiful out. It was the middle of May and bound to be hot out in Arizona. I could feel the warmth on my skin already. I needed to shower and get all this sticky sweat off my skin. It wasn't even mine. I felt disgusting. His touch lingered everywhere on me. The bruises he gave me stained my skin more than the self inflicted cuts.

'Morning Ms. y/l/n. Last night was lovely. See you at lunch?'. It was a text from Mr Reid. He was my psychology professor. Older than me, at thirty, he had long dark hair and deep brown eyes. His hair curled slightly at the end. He was tall and slim. Smart and nerdy, having two degrees and a doctorate, he left his job at the FBI for something less mentally draining. He had worked there since he was twenty-two. I was twenty-one making our age gap quite small. Look at me, trying to convince myself that it even mattered. He was a lovely guy. Friendly, and handsome. He wouldn't fall in love with a student, and if he did, that student would never be me. He was too smart for that.

"Morning Dr. Reid. Thank-you for taking me. It was a fun eve! Yes, see you at lunch. We can have a chat about the stuff we saw yesterday =)". I read the message over and over again before hitting send. I was nervous as I usually always say stupid things. My low self esteem affected me very much. I was twenty-one, already with one degree and going back to do another. I was still living at Sharon's and I haven't had a boyfriend. He texted me back instantly.

"Can't wait! Need a lift to school? =)" I smiled down at my battered iPhone 6. I couldn't afford a brand new phone. I was lucky in that I only had to work a few hours a week at the local book store and that it was something I enjoyed doing. Sharon was good to me. She helped me pay for and make my way through college. I don't know what or where I would be without her. On the other hand, she brought the human spawn of the devil into my life.

"No thnx, Luna is picking me up =)" I sent but then instantly regretted it. I love my best friend but I would have preferred a ride with Dr. Reid. Our conversations were always interesting and insightful. We could talk about a wide range of subjects for hours and it would only feel like minutes passed.

"Ok, see u soon Y/N"

I smiled, almost forgetting my problems before catching glimpse of myself in the mirror. My fragile, battered body stared back. I sighed. He could never find a girl like me attractive. Not that it mattered anyway. Silly little girl crush.

After debating whether it was best to just find the nearest bridge in town and throw my self off or get ready for school (I am very mentally unwell), I decided on the latter. Luna had already texted me to inform me that she was about to set off. Knowing Luna, which I have had the pleasure of knowing for fifteen years (no sarcasm in there), ten minutes would be ten years.

I staggered down the dreaded stairs, almost losing my footing a few times, feeling light headed. I entered the brightly lit kitchen. It was so bright that I could feel an aching behind my eyes. The decor was simplistic, all white with gold features. Classic business mom who is never home asthetic going on.

Sharon sat at the island, face absorbed in her laptop. She was in her late forties with short, mousey hair. I believe she would be referred to as a 'Karen'. She looked nothing like Dom. She was short, like me, and fairly slim. He was tall and muscular with broad shoulders. Quarterback star player with the strength to show for it. He could snap us both in half. Dominic is Sharon's only child. Yes, that is correct. She is not my mum. I lost her.

Sharon looked up at me, flashing me a warm smile, still bashing the keys to her MacBook. She took a sip of her black coffee, nibbling on some cold toast. "You look like shit" she stated; matter of factly, her face blank. '"Thanks?'" I answered with a raised eyebrow. I walked over to the coffee machine and put in a pod, sticking my travel cup underneath. 77Kcals of goodness. All the fuel I will need this morning. "Sweetheart, don't act like that. You know I'm just saying. You need to sleep more" '"I know" I sighed. It was true... "But that makes two of us" I retorted cheekily with a grin. "Oh sweetheart, don't I know it" she raised her cup as if toasting the comment before gulping the last bit of coffee.

Sharon was my guardian, though not anymore as I was an adult and of drinking age. She still cared for me though as if I were her own. My mom died when I was seven and my dad had a breakdown. He couldn't cope. One day I came home from school and he was gone. He didn't say a word to anyone. He packed up his stuff and left me. I hated him for a while. The anger within me burned to my core. After a while I felt sympathy. He didn't get the help that he needed. If he did then we both wouldn't be in this mess. We'd be happy - together. I doubt he would know how to contact me now.

Aunt Sharon took me in. She wasn't really my aunt, she was my mom's best friend. She was the only connection to my mother that I had left besides her wedding ring. She loved her dearly and I believe she loves me dearly too. It's not her fault she can't protect me. She works herself to death trying to help me live my dreams. Dom wasn't the child that she had always wanted. He is doing nothing with his life. That is something I will alway's respect of her, single mom raising her child and somebody else's.

I loved her, though she did have the tendency to dish out tough love which often was way - way too harsh. And she was always away leaving me with him. I knew that if I'd only just tell her what he was capable of... What he would do to me when she left... She'd have murdered him herself with her bare hands. But it would kill her. I couldn't do that to her. He was the only thing she had who was blood. Me, I had no-one.

"shit! Is that the time? I'm going to be late. I gotta go, honey. Say bye to Dom for me." she pleaded as she stuffed the last slice of toast in her mouth and gathered her briefcase and her keys. " ...And make sure you have something to eat. You're wasting away!" "Have a good day at work Shaz" I shouted after her. I doubt that she heard me. She was out the door in seconds, jangling her keys and fighting between speaking with me and the ringtone on her work mobile. I heard her professional, scripted 'Hello, Sharon Cormack speaking' as the door slammed behind her.

I made my way through the spotless kitchen Gina, Sharon's housekeeper, always did a good job. I grabbed a bottle of water out of the integrated refrigerator. I also grabbed my iced latte from the coffee machine. It was almost half eight. My first classes start at nine and Luna still wasn't anywhere in sight. I scrambled through my purse for my phone, ready to give her a piece of my mind. That girl would be late to her own funeral.

"You're up early" a voice from behind me sneered. It took all my might to not to curl up in a ball, trembling.

"I... I have school"

No reply. I felt him creeping up behind me, felt his breath against my neck.

"I can think of something much better to do with the day baby" he whispered as he planted acid kisses on my neck. It burned. I squeezed my eyes shut, putting my hands up defensively. He pushed my back into the counter. A sharp pain ran though me.

"Please stop. I have to go" I whispered as his hand snaked its way up my neck, fist knotting tightly in my hair.

'"Why do you think a whore like you has the right to tell me what to do, hm?"

'- Hello? Katy?' Luna's smooth voice called out in sing song.

Oh, thank god for her and her timing. He released me from his grasp and increased the distance between us. His eyes were clouded. I could tell he was pissed. I brushed passed him, running towards Luna, who was standing by the open door. I ran straight into her arms hugging her tightly.

"I thought you'd never show." I whispered. She rested her chin on my shoulder, stroking my hair. I could tell that she was staring daggers at Dom and I could tell he didn't care. Like I said, the same routine. Every morning.

By the time lunch rolled around I had had enough. had gotten into a lot of trouble with Ms. Hallows over an overdue assignment and I had spilt water all down the front of my jeans. It looked like I had pissed myself. My saving grace is that they were dark jeans and so it wasn't too noticable. That didn't stop Georgie from laughing and calling me pissy pants for half the day.

Georgie was the kind of girl that you would avoid in high school. Everybody wanted to be her but everyone hated her so bad. She had golden brunette locks, a slim face and a petite nose. Her friends Nova and Ari were just as bad. Everyone used to tell you that when you left high school things would be different. I am sorry to inform you that they don't. Bullies stay bullies forever.

I forced my way through the groups of students, crowded together in the corridors. The last thing I wanted was to be late for my chat with Mr. Reid

"Y/N" I heard Luna calling after me. I could tell that she was chasing me through the crowd of students. "Y/N. Look, Y/N stop." I rolled my eyes.

"What?" I snapped. I could see the hurt in her eyes. She leaned on the wall, panting. I sighed. "I'm sorry. What's wrong?" I asked. I felt bad for snapping at her. All she wanted was answers, like anyone would have after walking in on what she did. But I don't give answers. I shut down. I don't tell anyone anything. She tried talking once we got in the car. I ignored her and I ran once we'd arrived at school. She didn't even need to speak. I could just tell what she wanted to talk about from the look on her face. I sighed again.

"Luna, I can't talk about this right now." I saw the hurt in her eyes. If I kept pushing her away then eventually she wouldn't fight to stay. 'Good', a small voice whispered in my head. Maybe that would be for the best. She deserves better. Everyone does. I could just end my life today and nobody would care. I used to fight hard against the suicidal ideations that entered my mind but now I didn't see the point.

"I have my meeting and I can't be late. Taco Bell after classes?" I asked. To my relief, she smiled and nodded, that beautiful smile that I loved so much. She was so easy to please. I smiled and walked away towards room 1980. Dr. Reid's office.

"I love you!" she shouted after me smiling.

"I love you more!"

"Lesbians" Georgie mocked. She was stood near the bathrooms. I rolled my eyes.

"Grow up"

Luna was gay but we weren't together. We had been intimate a few times but nothing had come of it. But so what if it had? We both agreed it felt weird as we had known each other as friends for so long. We didn't want to ruin anything. Luna and I had been friends ever since she opened up my juice box for me in kindergarten and then hit the girl who had stolen my straw. We had been inseparable ever since. She's been with me through thick and thin. I'd hate to think where I'd have been if she hadn't been there when my mom had died. We are and will alway's be the best of friends. In another life I could see us growing old together, adopting puppies and children but sometimes, it doesn't work out. And if you love someone, you have to let them go.

I opened the door to 1980 and as soon as I did my heart fluttered in my chest. There he was, as beautiful as ever. He looked up from the book he was reading, glasses perched on his nose and smiled, he seemed glad to see me.

"Sweetie!" he said, a smile spreading across his gorgeous lips. He's the only person who calls me that.

"Dr. Reid" I smiled back. My smile was huge and I probably looked so dorky but I don't care. My day just got brighter. I pulled up a chair next to him and kicked my feet up onto his lap. He rested his hand on my calf.

"So what did you think to the book?"

#drreid #spencer x reader #spencerreid #spencer reid #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid story #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #mature #fic #reader x spencer reid #wattpad #wattpad fanfic #teacher x student #college professor smut #professor x student #professor x reader #teacher x reader

65 notes · View notes

fleetwoodmak99 · 3 years

Text

Primed for Sin (2/10)

SUMMARY: This is Arthur's point of view of meeting Elena and the effect it has on him. Arthur doesn't really know what he's gonna do but he doesn't know that she's the one.

WARNING: Delusions, masturbation, smut, stalking, smoking weed and mental illness (Borderline Personality Disorder and PBA)

Please kindly do not read this if these offends or triggers anyone. Im always here to listen if someone needs it.

Hey again. This is part 2 of idk how many parts to the Primed for Sin story. Like I said before idk where I'm gonna go with this but this chapter is gonna be more dark when it talk about stalking and mental illness. I decided to have Elena too have stuggles with mental illness as well because I felt it better represent what I'm going through with my own mental health. So I apologize if I offend anyone or if anyone feels misrepresented.

Primed for Sin Part 1

Arthur could feel his whole body ache as he sat on the couch in the apartment he shared with his mother. His legs bounced as he sat back on the couch. One of his hands coming up to his mouth to take a drag of a cigarette while the other one held the boys toy train. He could feel another one of his laughing fits hit once again.

He couldn't help the raging fits of laughter that escaped him as he felt the sharp pain of anxiety shocking his body. He remembers the events that had happen earlier that day.

He tried to think of something else, anything else but he couldn't stop himself from thinking of how beautiful that girl was when she had smiled at him earlier. How she smelled of peppermint, it reminded him of Christmas. Even though he never really was able to really celebrate it, something about the season always brought him comfort.

He felt his pain starting to ease as the laughter once again started to die down for what seemed to be the millionth time today. Ever since this morning he's been having laughing attacks left and right. He squeezed the toy train even harder. His thoughts beginning to roam again. He didn't know anything about that girl but he knew he needed to know more. No, craved to know more. There was nothing that would keep him from her. He already knew this, he just didn't know how far he would take himself for it.

He imagined that she would be the perfect good girl for him. She's already seemed to be a mother figure which delighted Arthur. Maybe one day she would be round with his child.

No. Stop it Arthur, he thought to himself. There will be plenty of time for that. For now, he wanted to know more about the boy she was with. Who was he to her? Her son? Has she been with another man? Is she a virgin?

The thoughts ran rapid through his head as he started to spiral. Nothing made him more upset than thinking about another man's hands on her. So he did what his thoughts told him to do. He gathered information on her. Anything he could find. The easiest way to do this was to follow the woman as she goes about her day. He knew it was wrong, the small voice in his head told him so but there there even larger voices telling him to go through.

After a few days of this, he was able to find out more about the sweet girl. Her name was Elena Wheeler. She worked at a comedy club, one that Arthur had gone to often. She did singing gigs on the side while she bartended for the most part. Arthur noticed she like to cover 50s songs as well as write some of her own songs. Arthur would find himself relax while enjoying her voice each night. She would work this job most days while the boy would go to a behavioral center for children.

The boy on the other hand wasn't her son but her younger brother, yet she was the one who had custody over him. This was most likely so he too wouldn't end up in the system.

This gave Arthur some relief as his virgin theory might be true. He'd watch the two of them interact with one another. Almost being jealous of the way they played together. He wish he had that with someone. He will, soon.

It was obvious that the boy had some major abandonment issues. He would cry every time she would kiss him goodbye. Only calming down hours later when he's starts watching a cartoon or until she returns. But Arthur could also tell that Elena had some issues of her own. She too would be antsy every time she was away from the child. Never allowing herself to rest until she knew she was ok.

Arthur would watch her through the window of the complex building. One thing he did notice immediately was the constant hits from a bong. He was honestly surprised how much she could smoke. If she were drinking, he would actually be concerned for her. The girl was small and shouldn't take much to get a high yet there she was coughing up a storm from hitting it so much. Michael was in the other room watching his Thomas show. Arthur couldn't help but wonder why she did this so much. Maybe she was lonely too.

Arthur was able to keep track of her favorite things, what upset her, what made her happy. Everything and anything. He would notice her moods would change frequently. She would be happy one minute and crying the next especially when she was away from Michael. He could see her trying her best to hold it together for the little guy. He really did. His heart leaped just watching it. His heart leaped even more when he saw he watching the Murry Show being played most nights after putting Michael to bed. She's perfect.

Arthur started to understand her more when he was able to get his hands on some of her records. He won't say how but let's just say he has his ways aka breaking and entering. He was glad he did when he saw an entire file dedicated to her.

She had been diagnosed with Boderline personality disorder when she was 18. She herself had been in behavioral centers for having difficulty controlling her anger. She also lived in foster home for most of her childhood it seemed since both her parents abandoned her when she was around 4 years old. Even though her parents had started coming in and out of her life when she turned 18, she never really gained anything from it.

It saddened Arthur to see she had had to struggle so much but that just seems to be a common theme around here in Gotham.

_________________________________________

After a long day of clowning around at his extremely emotionally draining job. He had done his nightly routine of watching Murray and cooking for his mother. After what seemed like an eternity, his mother had finally drifted off into sleep. He felt himself finally relax and with this he let his mind wander.

He wanted to see her. Just see her face. That's all he needed. Even if it was through a window in the freezing cold in the ally way behind the building. Luckily she didn't live on a high floor. That was enough for him to take action.

Arthur quietly grabbed his coat and shoes as he slipped out the door and into the cold. He shivered as the coolness hit his body.

Finally making it to his usual spot for that last few days and set himself up, only looking up when he was finished. His eyes focused on Elenas apartment window. It was dark with the only light coming from the TV in one of the bedrooms. He figured she had put Michael to bed because he could see her all alone, he paused, in only a gray tank top and black panties.

His heart started to race and he could already feel his throat starting to react. The laughter was ready to pour out.

Maybe this isn't a good idea, he thought to himself as he started to reach down to grab his things.

Yet he still couldn't tear his eyes from what he was seeing. Her tangled in the covers with her short brown hair all messy from moving around. It certainly was a sight to see. His cock agreed as it immediately started becoming hard.

The small voice in his head told him to stop. He knew it was wrong to watch her but when her hand started to move up and down her bare leg he knew he couldn't turn away. It was like she knew he was there almost. Like she was putting on a show just for him.

He grew harder and harder the more he watched. Watching her eventually making her way down to her panties, slipping her hand just inside. It didn't take long for her face to start turning and her body to start squirming. It didn't take long before he became hard enough it started to hurt leaning against his pants. He wanted to relieve himself so bad. More importantly he wanted to relieve himself in her but knew that couldn't happen right now.

He couldn't take it anymore when she started to grab at the sheets of the bed. He pulled out his cock that was already leaking with precum. Arthur didn't get a lot of action so when he did he just couldn't contain himself.

Arthur placed his dick in his hand as he started to slowly pump himself. He tried to match the same movements as her, trying to think it was her hand instead. He imagined they would be gentle and soft. His were the total opposite.

He imagined her saying his name. Whispering as she cums or screaming it as he fucked her. He knew he wasn't gonna be able to last long with all these dirty thoughts roaming his head. To his delight she couldn't seem to either. Elenas back was arched as her hands started to tease her breasts underneath her tank top.

He was right as her body started to shake, her chest move up and down swiftly as she starts to come down from her high. This gave Arthur the silent ok for him to cum as well. And when this boy cums, he cums everywhere. He just can't hold himself back. Shamefully cumming in a nearby trashcan so no one would see.

He quickly cleaned himself up, looking up and down the ally to make sure no one is watching. He couldn't help the connection he felt with her. She was so sweet the first time they meet and she's perfect now weak against her mattress.

Ok its time to make a move.

#arthur fleck x you #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck #arthur fleck x y/n #joker #arthur fleck smut

31 notes · View notes

writing-the-end · 3 years

Text

LoL Chapter 27- Hermits

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

Its not often the hermits get a chance to all be together. And while they know battles lie ahead of them, they take this moment to enjoy being a family again.

______________________________________

Etho appears beside TFC, causing the mineral mage to sputter out the coffee he was sipping. “I caught sight of xB a few islands down!”

The hermits murmur with excitement and follow Etho to the shoreline. Sure enough, xB is hauling Hypno and Beef onto the warm sand. Hypno thumps his hand against his head, an attempt to escape his clogged ears which only fails for him. “Can’t we take a sky turtle next time?”

“But it’s more fun to swim!” xB chuckles, and with a flick of his finned ears and his grey tail he runs to hug the hermits. “It’s so good to be back, guys! I can’t remember the last time all of us were on the island together.”

“You guys said something about taking back Lairyon?” Beef raises an eyebrow, looking over at Doc. “This isn’t your rebellious phase coming back, is it?”

“We’ll explain everything on the way. TFC has a lot to tell.” Etho wraps his arms around Hypno and xB, before disappearing into their shared shadow.

The kipling laughs, shaking his head and looking around the island. “Some things never change. I see you haven’t fixed the hole in False’s forge either.”

The hermits laugh, the entire group filled with life as they return to the guild hall. Joe and Cleo regale the missing hermits with the story of their victory at the Chimaera’s Championship. Their battles and challenges in the arena, facing off against the best guilds and winning the cup. They also tell Hypno, xB, and Beef about the heist, the discovery.

“Why am I not surprised?” Hypno hums, tapping his fingers against the wood of the table that he sits down at. TFC pats the boys on the head, grabbing at Beef’s face and tapping his finger on a scar he sees. Beef shrinks away, concerned for a second, but the guildmaster only chuckles in response.

“I can’t wait to hear that story. It’s good to have you guys back.” TFC pats him on the back. “Treat you to a pint of beer next time we go to town.”

“Let’s hear about this big job you’ve got planned for us first.” xB raises an eyebrow. In response, TFC rolls out his map.

The paper has changed since they first decided to go after Dolios and his creepy crystals. If there’s one thing an outlaw guild knows how to do, it’s to find new jobs through the grapevine. “Dolios has these tales silenced. I’ve heard of at least six other guilds being attacked or wiped out by unknown magic. Unfortunately, we’re too late to help them.” Team ZIT glance at one another, but focus on the here and now. “But there are places we can make a difference, as well as get information and better ourselves as a group.”

TFC motions to the Evernight forest. “An old friend of mine said there has been stories of familiars and companion animals going missing. No trace of where they went, except for a few patches of charred grass.”

“Charred, or drained?” Mumbo muses. To anyone, that sounds like the signs of a dragon ravaging Foresta, but after Mumbo’s duel with a draconic mage he knows dragons aren’t that dastardly. Nothing is as dastardly as Dolios.

TFC grins, the newest member and the guildmaster sharing a knowing glint. “There’s also Shellor- which, I believe one of our hermits here knows quite intimately.” Etho gives a two fingered salute, rocking on the back legs of his chair until they fall out from under him, dumping him on the floor. Doc, Beef, and BDubs laugh at him. “There’s a few spies who’ve seen things Dolios has done, but the hard part will be earning their trust.”

“Hmm, yeah. I don’t think I really left Shellor on a good note.” Etho grimaces.

“That’ll be you, Keralis, and Grian’s problem. Meanwhile, we also need some help in the magical beings department. And if there’s one group that has mysterious, arcane magic on lock, it’s-”

“The fae!” Stress slams down her hands, a bright smile on her face. Iskall jolts upright and nearly hits the table again on the way down. “But where will we go? The fjords? The mountains? Heartbreak Trench?”

“The flowerfruit fields. While you’re there, you and BDubs can gather ingredients that we’ve been running low on.” TFC glances at the map, running a finger over the lime green patch on the map. “We do have two confirmed crystal sightings, as well as Gildara. Edenswell seems to be falling ill to dark magic, and there’s reasonable belief that Dolios isn’t getting these massive rocks from nowhere- he’s using gems from the mines.”

Heads peek over one another in an attempt to see the map. The charcoal diamonds and swirls. Gildara still sits untouched, and every hermit looks at one another. Do any of them want to return to the beginning of this all? Even to put an end to the dark magic plaguing the land, the memories of what they saw, what they experienced, still remain.

Except for those that weren’t there. “I don’t think I’d mind checking out this hokey little town you guys keep talking about.” Beef grins, glancing over at Hypno and Wels. “We’ll have that place brimming with flaxen fields and green gardens all over again.”

TFC grins, dipping his head in thanks to the returning hermits. He leans back, looking at the filled guild hall. “It’s been so long since we’ve all been together. If only it were on good terms.”

“It feels good to return home.” xB ruffles his hair with a scaled hand, looking around for a second, then returning to speaking. “Even if it’s just for a short time, we should enjoy everyone being together again.”

“What I’m hearing is we need to have our signature hermit celebrations.” Tango’s face splits into a devious smile. All around him, other hermits get a similar smirk on their face. Before TFC can agree to the idea, the hermits are gone. Cleo rushes to her wrecked pirate ship, hefting kegs of ale with the aid of Stress. Wels commandeers False’s forge to begin baking his favorite sweets, while Mumbo, Grian, and Iskall work together to fix the pennants, lanterns, and flags that decorate the guild hall in a myriad of colors.

Tango snaps his fingers, and a small flame dances at his fingertips, jumping from his nails to the wicks of the lanterns. He ducks out of the way just in time to avoid being smacked in the face by a massive fish, tossed from the sea by xB and grabbed by Grian midair. The whirlpool mage disappears back underwater, back to hunting in the realm he was born in.

The sun begins to inch towards the western horizon, turning the sky ablaze in a mosaic of pinks, oranges, yellows, and reds. A blue flag flutters against the ancient oak tree, catching on a branch. BDubs reaches out from his seat near the food platters, hardly even glancing away from the fresh baked goods, and with a flick of his wrist the branch bends away and the flag flies free again.

False appears beside Wels, grabbing a brownie from the hot pan and sticking her tongue out at him as she passes. When Wels objects she’s quick to retort. “You used my forge. It’s rental payment, paladin.”

Beef sets out plates, which are promptly ignored once Impulse and Zedaph have finished cooking the tuna xB caught. Music swells from a music box the creation of Ren, with the help of Mumbo, the upbeat songs written and composed with Joe and requests from the other hermits for their favorite tunes.

The music thrums against the low roar of talking, the sound only broken by the common lilt of laughter. Hermits tell their stories, whether they be heard for the thousandth time or a new tale to tell. Beef causes Hypno to flush as he recounts the prank he pulled on the dream mage. Hypno turns bright red, quiet voice cracking over the tale. “I smelled like centaur shit for a week! It was awful, I’ll tell you that.”

A raucous laugh erupts from that table, overshadowing the story of Mumbo’s duel to xB. “I swear on my life, I thought she was gonna swallow me whole. Or burn me like coal.” Mumbo shakes his head. “I don’t think I ever want to go up against a draconic mage ever again in my life.”

“I’m surprised a kipling, a draconic mage, and a desert wizard were one team. That’s a strange group. I don’t think I’ve even met each of the others.” xB takes a bite of his fish, marinated in fresh fruits that Cub plucked from nearby islands. “But I’m sure that kipling gave you guys a run for your money. That magic she had… it’s rare beyond imagination. In kipling legend, it means a legendary hero is about to arise.”

“He definitely kicked Ren’s ass. I don’t think I ever saw so much water moved at once.” Mumbo shakes his head, and stuffs a red jelly tart into his mouth.

Keralis stands, tossing his woven hat from the brown curls of his hair, and inviting himself onto the open floor. “I love this song! Come on, my wonderful friends, let’s dance!”

The setting sun casts a golden glow, bouncing off verdant leaves, twisting along the waves of the Ashioll sea. Laughter and music dance in the gilded light, playing in the curls of Zedaph’s hair as he joins Keralis. The two bumble around, drunk from Cleo’s ale but enjoying themselves immensely.

Only one hermit wasn’t taking part in the festivities. Atop the canopy that protects the guild hall below, Xisuma watches as the stars appear in the sky. For a few moments in the day, the void and the sun share the space above. And he always thinks of the one person he knows he should forget by now. But he would’ve loved this, even if he’s constantly worrying about being caught doing something wrong.

“Hey X, you gonna mope up there all day or join us?” Jevin grins below, one hand placed on his hip and the other waving Xisuma down. “Just because you’re a void mage doesn’t mean you have to a-void everything!”

Xisuma rolls his eyes, but smiles beneath his mask. “After that terrible pun, how can I say no?”

24 notes · View notes

blarrghe · 3 years

Note

♥ Dorian and Taren!

Look what you did, you made Dorian cry.

Lengthy emo feelings ahead. No cut because mobile sorry =/

Dorian had seen Taren cry. More than once, in fact. It wasnt that it happened often, just that the elf had quite a lot to contend with. There was no shame in it, and indeed Taren took very little shame in anything pertaining to his emotion. He was free with it; asking for help almost as easily as he offered it. Almost. The first time Dorian had seen Taren cry the whole thing had actually come to a rather dramatic head specifically because of the Lord Inquisitor's refusal to show vulnerability. But grief makes people do uncharacteristic things. It had done so to Taren; made him hide his fear and doubt behind unrelenting activity. Work work work, until the crash. Dorian had been there for the crash, and it had been the first time he'd been there, like that, for anyone.

Dorian had seen Taren cry a few times after that, not with a crash, but just for a moment under a hug at the end of a long day. And he had begun to understand that it was a reasonable thing to do, sometimes, to cry. The world was a very tumultuous and unhappy place, filled with demons and bandits and various vicious beasts. There was no shame in fear or grief or loneliness, and truly, it was ok to cry.

For other people.

For Dorian, a more suitable alternative had always been - and would remain - expensive, strong brandy. On the day he recieved news of his father's death, he found some in the cellars, and taking it without asking soon found himself a quarter of the way through the bottle, hunched over a desk at the top of Skyhold's mage tower. It was an unusual venue for him; he never had migrated over from the library after the tower was built. But the tower smelled like lyrium and thrummed with residual magic, and at the top of it it was cold, and quiet.

He rubbed a thumb over the letter in his pocket, and swirled the brandy in his glass. Father was dead. It had been coming long enough; he wasnt young, and his friends were mostly false ones, but it came on suddenly nevertheless. It also came with consequences. Opportunity, he reminded himself, to actually apply all that good-principled change he'd been dreaming up all his life. And Taren would understand, he always did.

Or he might not.

Another drink.

He might say he understood and then resent him.

A larger drink.

He might have reached it, that end he always knew would one day come.

He drained the glass.

He pulled the letter out of his pocket and poured himself another glass. His mother's writing was fine, her words matter of fact and devoid of emotion. He wouldn't have expected much more, and he didn't expect that she was at this moment taking the news any differently than he was; with a strong drink and a quiet moment alone. She would cry at the funeral, dramatically, and then gather up the fortune bequeathed to her and take a sojourn out to the family beach house. She'd likely be gone from the estate before his luggage arrived. Oh, but he did not want to have to live in that house again. He took another bitter sip, gritting his teeth against the thought that he had never really lived in that house at all.

Well, he chuckled dryly to himself, he could free all the slaves while mother was away. Have her come back to find him cooking his own meals.

All these lines of thought quickly led him back to the main point, which was that his father was dead, and he wasnt quite sure how he felt about it. But however he felt, it was unpleasant, and he sought to numb it with brandy.

They had exchanged a handful of letters, after that strained reunion in Denerim. His father had asked for a forgiveness he had never granted, and that even now he was not sure he could. There was some decency to the letters, a reluctant push toward reconciliation brought on, no doubt, by his father's reckoning with his own mortality; his death had resulted from illness in the end, not political motivation. And how very bitter that dance had felt. A father who had only marginally accepted him after years of pushback, asking to be heard out of love. Thanks to the letters, thoughts of his childhood had been digging into him since well before the eventual death, and the nostalgia in them was heartwrenching and infuriating. He had given his father many proud moments, impressing his early teachers and outshining his peers. He had almost been such a perfect son.

Dorian had answered every letter slowly, leaving them at the bottom of his long to-do lists. Mostly he had just wanted to avoid those conversations because he didn't exactly know what to do with them. What to do with a relationship so steeped in resentment? What to do with all the things that would never change, that he would never get an answer for? What to do now that there was nothing else he could ever say.

He should have written longer letters. He should have had a better father. He should have been a better son.

A memory slipped itself in uninvited between mild frustration and a growing fuzziness in his thoughts; a vacation, praise for learning some new spell, the giddy joy of being seven and already important. Pride. A good memory, a happy memory where his father was kind and his mother was sober and his legacy was exciting. It was always the warmest memories that left his heart cold.

He had spent about half his life a golden child, then in a flurry of dissillusionment and ideological exasperation, made a very deliberate show of throwing it all away. Rebellion and resentment had been his only modes of communication with either of his parents for years, and with more than enough good reason. Dead or not, some broken part of him would always be angry. And the parts of him that were whole knew well enough that his anger was justified.

He had idly imagined the familial fallout of death a number of times; in his darkest moments, he'd ruminated on the shadow he could cast with his own, and in fits of anger and heated verbal sparring, he'd passionately invoked his desire to see his father's. He had known for a very long time that ungrateful though it may seem, he wouldn't feel much troubled by its eventual occurence. He had assumed that his tears for matters concerning his legacy, his failures as a protege, and his mistreatment were long spent. But grief makes people do uncharacteristic things.

Drinking was probably not helping. When the first salty droplet fell into his brandy, his mind was already a rough sea of happy memories and unhappy reactions, unhappy memories and refreshed anger, unspoken rants and unwritten apologies. All the things that had only just begun to feel far away and over during his time in the South were back, emboldened by the discombobulated nature of a mind altered by drink. The waves crashed into him, and with an ugly wail and a choking breath, the rest of his tears spilled out from behind his eyes.

He crumpled the letter into a tight ball, and threw it across the room with all the force he could muster. Despite the force behind it, the wad of paper bounced off the wall and rolled along the floor with nothing more than a quiet patter. His violent little burst of energy only fueled things further, and then he was slamming a fist into the desk and pushing away the bottle of brandy in order to preserve it from a sudden urge to smash something.

A sob heaved itself from his throat, and he lowered his head into his hands to shake out the rest. Most of his complex feelings of anger and grief were swallowed up by curse words, and he let the colourful stream of them run through his head while his breaths hitched and broke under more sobs.

Taren had never seen Dorian cry. Not even when his voice had cracked and wavered in Redcilffe after confronting his father, not even when he had pulled him in tight and swearing under his breath after their close calls with death, not over anything. In fact, every distressing moment in Dorian's life seemed to be relayed with humour; a well developed mix of sarcasm and bravado. It wasnt that he was insensitive, the man had simply had a lot of practice maintaining his face, and letting that face fall was new and foreign territory. He would no doubt have given Taren a nonchalant explanation of what had happened in a day or two, the emotional impact always something you had to know him to hear. But Taren would. Dorian was a passionate man, and while he was wordy and quick witted, most of what he felt came through in action. He'd throw it all out there like it was nothing, then hold him in a desperate grip and sink his kisses deep into his bones, and that would say everything.

But Dorian wouldn't have that chance. Instead, as he wrestled with his composure with his head bent over the desk, Taren quietly ascended the stairs. Dorian didn't even realise he was there until his hand was on his back, rubbing gentle circles over his shoulder as another shaky breath jostled them up and down.

"Vhenan," his warm voice was quiet in his ear, a soft breath of a word that held so much. Exactly the right thing, and exactly the wrong thing, for it triggered a surprised inhale and an embarrassed crack in his voice as he tried to reply with some assurance that he was fine through the tears.

"What can I..."

Dorian took a few more breaths and rubbed at his eyes, forcing an unconvincing smile and reigning in the display.

"Nohing, Amatus. I'm fine, I'm fine."

Taren didn't move. His hands massaged Dorian's shoulders slowly, and a kiss landed in his hair. "Tell me what happened."

Dorian sighed, and nodded his head to the left just enough to signal Taren to where the crumpled letter sat on the floor. Taren took the few steps across the small room and picked it up. With a cautious look to Dorian first, he undid its folds and smoothed the letter out. He read it slowly, eyes scanning the page and then flicking up to Dorian again with close-knit brows. "Oh," he whispered as he finished taking in the news, "oh, ma vhenan."

This was not their spot up in the library where things were comfortable. Dorian wasn't hunkered down in a cozy little alcove with two comfortable seats and the homey clutter of books and candle stubs and notes, he was bent over a solitary desk, in a small and dim little room at the top of a tower. When Taren returned to his side he tucked himself in at a kneel and took up one of Dorian's hands.

"So, shall we make it quick and painless then?" Dorian asked, forcing another of those smiles that didnt quite make it.

"What?"

"My leaving."

"Dorian," he said it like no.

"Dont tell me you want to draw this out. I dont think I can stomach more crying." Even as he said it, his voice cracked over the words.

Taren sighed, and gave Dorian's hand a solemn squeeze. "I do though," Taren replied, "I love you." Dorian sat up, turning his face reluctantly to Taren's. "I wont make promises for myself. You dont have to do any more crying." He smiled at him, all real, "but if you must leave, I'd like to draw it out for as long as I possibly can."

"Bastard."

Taren chuckled. "It's too soon to point that back at you, isn't it?" A rare moment of pithyness from the Inquisitor. It worked, Taren was almost never anything but achingly sincere, and the surprise of a joke in extremely poor taste jolted Dorian to an actual snort of a laugh.

"Maker, I must look a fool. I've been wishing for this day for years."

Taren frowned. "You're not a fool."

"I kept putting off his letters..." He felt a need to explain something, a reason for the hysterics. "I should have, I should have..."

"Listen to me," Taren was suddenly serious again, taking both his hands and fixing him with a knowing gaze. "Whatever happens, whatever you need, I'm here." Dorian felt his face scrunching up again against his permission. "I love you." Taren said again, every time a lightning bolt. He swallowed, and hid his wretchedness in Taren's shoulder.

He had thought he was done. The fit of shaking and wailing interrupted by the warmth and comfort of Taren's voice, the masking power of a joke, the space enough between thoughts to find some ground to stand on. But as his eyes closed over Taren's shoulder and he felt arms wrap close around him, something else washed over him. Being held somehow made it all better, and all worse. His body convulsed, inhales entering his lungs in jagged chunks, just one bit of air at a time. His eyes left a damp spot in the soft fabric of Taren's thick sweater. Taren's hands pressed firmly into his back, one moving slowly up and down. His own hands clung to the wool of Taren's sweater in tight fists. The shattering breaths grew longer bit by bit, until they were deep and calm again. Taren always smelled a bit like campfire smoke, underneath notes of sea water and fresh pine. He inhaled, buoying himself on the familiar comfort of the embrace until his eyes were truly dry.

When he pulled away Taren had another smile ready for him, though his eyes were wide and full of concern. Dorian responded with a watery smile of his own. He pushed himself away from the desk, his chair sliding roughly on the wood paneled floor, and reached across the desk to retrieve the bottle he'd shoved aside.

"Brandy?" He offered, pouring a finger of it into his glass and tossing it quickly back.

Taren leaned on the desk, still watching him with an affectionate gaze. "Yes," he agreed, "but let's go somewhere else."

Taren rose to his feet and Dorian followed. Before anything, Taren took his hand and pulled him into a kiss. And without ever letting go, he led him away from the tower.

#dragon age #dai #dragon age fanfic #my writing #writing prompts #cw death #dorian pavus #taren lavellan #my ocs #pavellan #hurt/comfort #angst #cw for dealing with the death of shit parents??#heavy shit #and why yes i do need 7000 hugs and am using fic as an outlet #how could you tell?

22 notes · View notes

serasvictoria · 3 years

Text

So @mercurygray had an idea for a Weekend Workshop and the whole point of it was to Set A Scene. To write a piece as if you’re watching a movie and to take the location and surroundings into account.

I really struggled with this and ended up with something that I’m convinced missed the point entirely, but I never know what I’lll end up with when I start writing anyway. In the end, this basically turned into preparation for something that I know I’ll have to write at one point in the future.

This is my location by the way.

The Fall

Waving at her brother as he drove off, she made her way up the pathway to the large building. There always seemed to be a flurry of activity near the entrance. Visitors that came to take their relatives outside to enjoy the sunshine and patients who were being discharged and sent back to the care of their families. Seeing the smiles and hugs always managed to tug at her heartstrings, because she had no idea when she’d be able to do the same thing. She took a deep breath to settle herself before passing through the entrance.

It was painfully obvious that the walls had been painted in colours that had been deemed calming. Yellow at the top. Green at the bottom. The hospital that one of her brothers had been in when he had broken his leg when they were children had seemed to operate on a similar principle, but those walls had been light blue instead of the two tones that they had gone for here. But not even the supposedly soothing colours could do anything about the hospital smell that seemed to waft through the corridors at all times. Antiseptic mixed in with the sweet smell of oranges that were delivered from the orchard nearby. The combination was so odd that it had made her nauseous on many occasions.

As soon as he was well enough, she’d take him outside, park him outside on the green grass so he could sit in the shade of a palm tree. Maybe peel one of those oranges for him that they had a surplus of in this place. First thing he had to do was wake up however and no one seemed to know with certainty when that would happen. If it would even happen at all.

The x-rays look good, they’d tell her. Everything is as it should be.

The doctors, both the older one and the young ones, kept offering her reassurances and even showed her the pictures that she couldn’t make heads nor tails of. The nurses with their sympathetic eyes. Even the young priest that seemed to pass by her husband’s bed more times than he did the others. Always lingering near his bed whenever she came round for a visit, pretending that he was there for different reasons. He was always merely checking up, keeping tabs on the patients, but that couldn’t possibly be part of his job description. Whenever she’d pull up a chair and sit down next to the bed, she’d sometimes catch him shaking his head and frowning. That couldn’t be a good sign, could it?

Talk to him, they’d say. The sound of your voice will do him good.

So she brought him newspapers yet again, the sinking of the Lusitania by a German submarine was very prominently featured today, but reading to him about the horrors that happened at sea was probably not what staff had in mind when they had told her to read to him. Maybe it would be better to read from the automobile section. She’d seen something about that racecar driver that he liked and a fire truck running 15 miles in 23 minutes when she had skimmed through it that morning. He’d probably like that a lot more than if she told him that a Vanderbilt was amongst the many people that had died when the Lusitania sank.

Making her way through the largely empty corridors, she reached the room that he shared with two other people that were absent at the moment. The older man in the second bed frequently wandered the halls and the man in the first bed had been on one of the benches with his family when she had entered here. The fact that he wasn’t around was a very comforting thought, because he spent most of his time complaining about how ill he was and that he was positive that he was dying when it was clear as day that there was nothing wrong with him. How he could even say such things when there were people in the hospital who were a lot worse off than him was simply mind boggling.

Picking up a wooden chair that stood near the door, she put it on the right side of his white iron framed bed. Always on the right side. Sitting down, her eyes briefly flickered to the 3 that was painted over his bed before gingerly running her hand down his arm and checking the bandages around his head. They had stopped coming away all bloody a few days ago, but she had never seen what kind of mess lay underneath. Shaking her head, she turned the pages until she found the right section, cleared her throat and started to read.

“There’s an article in here about Teddy Tetzlaff. You remember him, right? Terrible Teddy?” He was in that short movie that he liked, The Speed Kings, with that other racecar driver Earl Cooper. “Well, he went on a 1500 mile trip to Big Pine with his Maxwell 25 and got caught in a big blizzard…”

From the corner of her eye, she could see him shift on the bed next to her, but that wasn’t unusual in and of itself. He had remained passive during the first three days, but after that he had started to move. During one visit the muscles in his leg had spasmed so violently that she had screamed and had to be led out of the room by one of the nurses. They’d taken her into one of the quieter rooms and had called her brother to pick her up, because she was in no state to continue her visit. Not after seeing that.

The car ride back to the house that her brother occupied with his wife and their two kids was still burned into her memory. That was the first time that she had broken down over this. All that time she’d kept herself together, kept pushing herself to stay strong. Not just for herself but also for the man that lay in that bed and for the life that was growing inside her that she hadn’t even had a chance to tell him about yet. Surprise.

Her poor brother had taken the brunt of everything that had been on her mind, but hadn’t told anyone about until then. Listened to her scream about how she didn’t know what to do, how to cope with this, didn’t know what he would be like if he woke up, how broken he would be. That was the main issue. What would he be like if he ever came out of this? No one had been able to give her a definitive answer. The doctors who kept going on about those damn x-rays didn’t know jackshit about what state her husband would be in if he ever came to.

He’ll be fine. But how did they know? Just keep talking to him. But did he even hear her at all?

“They were warned to turn back, but Teddy decided to keep pushing on…”

She’d been about to quote his words directly as they had been printed in the paper, something about Teddy saying that it was the worst blizzard they had ever seen in the valley, but the words suddenly started swimming in front of her eyes. Without even realising it herself, she’d dropped the newspaper from her hands, the pages sliding down her lap and scattering on the floor. A pair of bright blue eyes that she hadn’t seen open for eight days were looking right at her and not just that, but they actually seemed to be registering her presence as well.

“Hey.” Reaching up to wipe at her eyes which were already stinging with tears, she then took his hand in hers and squeezed. “Hey, handsome.”

“C-C-Ca- Cath-” He swallowed hard, his voice hoarse and sounding like his throat was lined with sandpaper. “Ca-Cat-”

His throat needed moisture. That much was clear. Turning around, she wildly reached for the basin and pitcher that were always right there in the corner, but there was no cup that she could put the water in. Her eyes were drawn to the cup that was on the cabinet on the other side of the bed and it was almost a mad dash to get there fast enough. Her hands shook as she clutched to the ceramic cup tightly and when she was back where the pitcher was, she dropped the damn thing and it rolled under the bed. Swearing under her breath, she dropped down on her knees to pick it up when she suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking back up at him, he was still trying to find words which didn’t seem to be coming.

“Oh Christ.” Her eyes darted up to the crucifix that hung on the wall and said a silent prayer for using the lord’s name like that. “You had an accident.” Where he wasn’t able to find words, she had no problems and suddenly unleashed a torrent of words on him. “You… you… it was that last job of yours. Your boss told me the scaffolding wasn’t secure, the whole thing just… collapsed. You fell and hit your head. It’s… it was bad. Probably still is, but I’m not an expert. Lord, I should get the doctor. Tell them you woke up or something.”

“R-r-re-” Again he tried to search for words which weren’t coming. Squeezing his eyes shut, he took a deep breath. “Fuck.” She couldn’t help but suppress her laughter over that. Naturally that would be the word that wouldn’t cause him any problems. “Re-rel-l-ax.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Reaching for the cup, she got back to her feet and started filling it for him. “It’s just… I didn’t think you’d…”

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she held the cup to his lips and helped him drink. His right arm seemed to be fine, a bit shaky, but there was movement there as he reached for her hand to ensure that she didn’t pull the cup away before he had drained it of its contents. When she was finally allowed to pull it away, his eyes kept following her as she moved and his hand had tightened in her dress to ensure that she couldn’t get up.

“Glad you’re back.”

“C-c-co-couldn’t l-l-le-”

“I know.” He didn’t have to finish that particular sentence since it was something he regularly said. A shared joke between them. Unbeknownst to him, those words which he usually uttered without thinking about it, had turned into some kind of indication to her that maybe things weren’t as bad as she had initially thought. Maybe he would be alright. “Can I go get the doctor now?”

“N-no. S-st-stay.”

“Fine. But only for a couple of minutes, okay? They probably want to know that you’ve come round.” A brief look of annoyance crossed his features, but he kept his words to himself. Leaning into him, she pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth and pressed her forehead against his temple. “I really missed you, Chuck.”

#scenery challenge #weekend workshop #setting a scene #my fic

6 notes · View notes

flutteringphalanges · 4 years

Photo

Summary: “Am I in Hell?” Agatha’s voice was hoarse, a hint of fear in her tone. “That depends on your definition,” Dracula answered. “Perhaps.” His fingers felt cool against her burning skin, the fever raging through her body. “If you’re going to kill me, then do it,” she mumbled. The count chuckled, gazing into her eyes. “On the contrary,” he smirked. “I’m going to save you.”

((In which Dracula cares for a gravely ill Agatha))

Characters: Agatha Van Helsing/Dracula

Rating: M

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Thank you all so much for your support! It means the world! Quick shout out to @rheabalaur! She is incredibly knowledgeable about the history of Dracula and Vlad Tepes and though I ended up not exploring human!Drac in this chapter, I wanted to thank her! She’s got some neat posts on the history and I learned a lot! Anywho, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Here is the next chapter!

Chapter Ten (Part Two)

Psychosomatic heart palpitations. The only diagnoses one can give to someone whose heart has stopped so long ago. Settled deep behind his rib cage, Count Dracula could almost swear he felt the dead organ pound against his ancient bones. Its rapid beating battering against his ear drums. Agatha Van Helsing was gone. Vanished without a trace except for a final message scribbled hastily on a scrap of paper. And it was all his fault.

"Fuck, Agatha!" He cursed, feeling the draft from the air outside. She'd neglected to close the doors properly, though that was beside the point. The cold temperature didn't bother him. No, he was immune. But she wasn't. "Dammit!"

Transformation. On foot. But there was the issue of his missing boots. The vampire's mind reeled a million miles a second. Usually he was so good thinking on his feet. Decisions coming easily to his mind. Yet there he was, standing hopelessly like a fool, trying to devise a plan. A way to find her. Agatha. His Agatha. In all of his centuries of life, never had he made such a fatal mistake.

He stared down at the corpse of the young man whose lifeless brown eyes gazed back at him. His skin was so pale, almost lily white after being completely drained of blood. Dracula let out a grunt, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Sloppy. Careless. His new existence as a vampire had yet to come easy to him. Despite being a learned man, he was well on his way of opening Pandora's box if he wasn't careful.

"Oh don't look so stoic." The vampire exhaled, glancing up to the dark sky. "You were far from valuable to begin with. Now what to do with you…"

Thunder rumbled overhead and small raindrops began to fall from above. Dracula frowned and glanced towards the direction of his castle. Experimentation. Understanding what he was didn't just fall on his shoulders. No. There was something interesting he witnessed with each new kill. From cradle to grave and from grave to coffin. Dying from one life into the next. A small smirk crossed his features as lightning crackled from above.

"Perhaps you will prove more use to me after all." He stated, lifting the body with ease. "So we shall see…"

By some stroke of sheer luck, Dracula managed to come across a pair of old boots tucked away in an old closet. Dusty, they gave off an unpleasant smell that even he found rather foul. But his own comfort was far from his concern. Slipping them forcefully on, he hurried out through the front doors and into the winter elements. Going bravely forth into the bitter snowstorm that had begun to stir from its sleep again.

His pace was brisk, each long stride with purpose as he walked away from the castle. Much to his misfortune, the fresh snow had completely covered the ground, burying with it any sign of Agatha's tracks. Not even transforming into a wolf would help at this stage. No. He couldn't sense her and that alone terrified him. If she was...no, no he couldn't think like that. So he pressed on, faster now.

Lovech Province, Bulgaria. At least, that's what he had learned from her blood. A pretty little thing, traveling alone to meet relatives in a nearby village. She'd been an easy target and quite an interesting one at that. Someone he had deemed worthy enough to keep.

"Please!" Dracula heard her wail from her box. "Please let me go! I'm so thirsty!"

"No." The vampire replied simply, so casually as if he was merely telling her the time of day. "No, I think it's best you stay put for now. Don't worry, I'll take good care of you. I always do with my brides."

Brides. He scoffed at his own term. It had been something he had come up with after holding captive several of his victims. Dracula needed to, after all, have some sort of name for them. In a sense, it seemed fitting. They were his after all. Property. Like cattle. Valuable, unusual stock that any bidder would desire and yet not know the horrors they were getting into.

"Let me go!" The woman pleaded. "Please, I promise I won't tell anyone! Just free me!"

"I shall return later." Dracula sighed as he ignored her screams of protest. "Perhaps with something to eat if I feel willing." He paused before looking over his shoulder. "And do try to keep the wailing to a minimum. I hate how it echoes throughout the halls."

Brides. Cattle. He grinned to himself as he exited the cellar. Disposable indeed.

"Agatha!"

He mentally cursed the howling wind that drowned out his voice each time he called out for her. Of all the times for her to disappear, of course it had to be in the middle of a blizzard. On many occasions she had threatened to leave, but the vampire had never thought she'd go through with it. If he had, if he had half the mind to, maybe he could've prevented this. All of this. If he had just been honest. Maybe she'd still be safe. Warm. Tucked away with him in the castle. But she wasn't and he was to blame.

"AGATHA!"

He hadn't quite expected his time with Jonathan Harker to turn the way that it had. It wasn't often that Dracula was left to deal with a slip up-if one would even call it that-but he found himself in a quite peculiar situation. An instance that led him to the steps of St. Mary's Convent in Budapest, Hungary. To her.

Agatha Van Helsing was a creature he'd never seen before. Such wit. Such spirit. She did not fear him like the others. She tested him like a fishman precariously dangling bait off the side of a boat where a shark was spotted. And that very moment when those few drops of her blood met his tongue it was a euphoria he couldn't explain. Seeing glimpses of her past. Of her history. Of who she was and of him. Of the infamous Abraham Van Helsing who had proven for a while to be a thorn in his side. Her grandfather. The product of a vampire slayer. And Dracula wanted...no, needed more.

The next course of action ended grizzly, not that he was quite surprised. But it wasn't until he came upon Agatha and that innocent, weakling Mina that his desire for the nun became curious. In any given dangerous situation, one must choose fight or flight. To defend yourself against your enemy and possibly die, or to out run them in the hopes of living. Agatha did neither. Instead, she offered herself in place of Mina. Seemingly cared nothing for her own life but only that of the woman's.

And so against what he thought at the time was his better judgement, he freed them both. Unknowing that soon enough fate would have them meet again under even stranger circumstances. How delectable and useful just a small amount of blood could be.

He couldn't smell her. No matter how far he walked, he still had yet to pick up any of her scent. That gave him some hope that maybe she hadn't injured herself. That perhaps she had found someone by some chance who had given her a ride somewhere. Unlikely as it was, it gave him a false sense of peace.

But due to the hindrance of his tracking abilities, a part of the Count began to wonder if Agatha's former Convent's beloved God was punishing him. That perhaps his version of Hell was not having her. Losing her. And who was he to deny that truth? Hell had frozen over and with it the former nun's mysterious disappearance. Dammit, Agatha, where could she have gone?

Dracula found himself staring at her for hours when he had first brought her to his castle. Watched as her chest rose and fell with each unstable breath. How her creamy skin was blotched by the red of the fever. At any point he could've killed her. Any second. With how ill she was, she wouldn't even see it coming. But she didn't. Instead, he observed. Quiet as his unaware guest rested.

When she did wake, truly became aware of her surroundings, it was a fond memory. How furious she was. How spiteful. After everything he'd done, Agatha showed no sign of gratitude and quite frankly, the vampire took no offense to that. She was merely an experiment after all. Someone he desired to learn more about. Except, he never expected it to go as far as it did.

"Fuck!"

Dracula's arms shielded him out of pure reflex as a tree fell just a yard away, spraying him with the wet snow that had clung to its branches. He wiped the substance away, his skin cool enough that it didn't immediately melt on impact. The way it clung to his clothes like some form of unwanted camouflage. For the first time in a long, long while, he was starting to despise the stuff.

"Agatha!" He tried again, this time louder. "Agatha, answer me! Where are you?!"

But only the storm returned his calling.

Emotions. Perhaps that's why he found it confusing at first. These feelings that no cold blooded person should experience. But the first real flicker struck him the moment he saw her wearing the dress he'd gotten her to replace that dreadful habit of hers.

Dracula thought of them. The hundreds-thousands of women he'd seen throughout his lifetime. Many whose beauty was beyond compare. But Agatha was different. Something about her, the way she stood there before him. There was so much he wanted to say. And at the same time, he wasn't sure what.

"Well," she said testily. "If it looks bad on me, you might as well-"

"No," he interjected. "No. You look...lovely."

Lovely. Out of everything he could've said, those were the words to spill past his lips. She blushed, but it wasn't the same color as her fever. No, this was different. So it truly began. The start of something he had very much yet to comprehend.

It was growing darker outside and Dracula knew it wasn't just because of the storm. He began to pick up his pace, fear beginning to rise even further than before. How long had he been asleep? A few hours at most? Could she really have gotten this far?

That's when he smelled it. The very faint, but familiar scent of blood. An aroma he was so familiar with that his stomach dropped at the realization. Agatha. It was Agatha. And the sweetness he associated with it only made him want to gag. His worries had been confirmed. Something had happened to his nun.

Maybe it was when they lost control over dinner and ended up having sex so rough, the aftermath of their heated lovemaking shouted to the heavens the next day. Or when she got so furious with him once, she broke her hand against his face. But perhaps the moment it really dawned on him that his feelings for Agatha Van Helsing were far from just a whim of passion was that night he truly tasted her.

The way she trembled against his touch. How he had to hold her as he ran his tongue across the inner thigh and to her very center. Sweet, like her blood, and he savored her like a fine wine. It hadn't been rough. Fueled by aggression. No, the way she melted into him was something far different. And when he was finally inside of her, that same sense of euphoria that he'd experienced those several, several months ago struck him. And he lost it. Completely gave way and pierced his teeth into Agatha's sensitive flesh. Blessed with her indulgence once more. That was his first mistake.

The smell of fresh blood was stronger now and Dracula followed it like a bloodhound. Though he knew he had to be drawing closer, how potent it was becoming only left his stomach twisting into knots. This wasn't a mere scratch. Not with how intense the smell was. There was a significant amount and the vampire dreaded what that could mean. What the outcome he was about to face was. How he wished Agatha had just gone ahead and staked him.

Cruel. That was the proper description for his next actions. Never mind triggering Agatha with old memories of Abraham-a man he knew well enough while, not evil, lacked any sort of endearment towards his granddaughter. He only furthered his stupidity when he abandoned her afterwards, leaving what should've been a good moment with a negative, abrupt ending.

In an almost sadistic, poetic way, the stake to his heart had been the final straw that broke the camel's back. The moment where Agatha's walls completely crumbled to the ground. Where she had, in her actions, admitted her true feelings when he had not. Metaphorically piercing her own heart when she should've done his. And he smiled. Grinned and waved away her affections. If only he realized the cost. The consequences. Those few words scrawled upon a strip of parchment.

Something caused him to stop in his tracks. Not the giant branch that blocked his path, but the feeling that there was something else. And so he hesitantly gazed over the edge, over a set of ragged rocks that dropped down several yards to the bottom. That's when he saw her. A figure lying motionless below wet by something other than snow. Dark. Even from where he stood, his excellent vision could make it out. Blood. Agatha.

"Agatha!"

Dracula leaped with such grace it made the long drop seem like a mere step. He hurried over to her side. Blood. There was so much blood. It stained the rock around her, caked locks of her hair together. And for a brief moment, for a fraction of a second, the vampire thought he was too late. It was only when he heard her pulse, the weak thrumming of her heart, that he knew she was alive. Barely. But still with him. As he exhaled in relief, her eyes opened.

Quickly he knelt beside her, the smell of her blood burning his nostrils. Thirst. Hunger. But he fought it. Battle the feral urge to feast within him. Dracula's hands were warm, sticky and red as he cradled her head ever so gently. She stared back at him unfocused.

The Count wanted to berate her. Scream at her for being so boneheaded. But not because he was furious with her. No, she had terrified him. So many questions. So much to say. Yet he couldn't. There wasn't any time to do so. He was losing her. Right there in his arms, the only person he'd truly ever cared about was withering away. He couldn't let that happen.

"You're dying." And the words held far more emotion than he'd ever had anticipated. "Agatha..."

"I know," she croaked.

The way she said it. Her tone. She wasn't afraid. Far worse. It was as if she was more than willing to accept this horrid fate. This end where one no longer exists. And he had planted the seed that made her okay with that.

"I can save you." There was a tremor in his voice. "This doesn't have to be the end. Let me..." He swallowed, damn how he hated to sound vulnerable. "Let me..."

There was a moment of pause as Agatha struggled to catch a breath. It ached deep within him to hear the pain as she did so. She was so strong. Even in death, she fought with bravery. What a soldier she would've made. What a companion in his human lifetime she would've been.

"Tell me..." Blood bubbled up in the corner of her mouth as she struggled to remain conscious. "Tell me..."

"Agatha!" He spoke to her loudly, trying desperately to keep her awake. "Tell you what?" But the Count already knew what she meant. "Tell you what?!"

"Just..." She was fading now. Fading so fast. "Tell me..."

Tell her. He looked deep within her blue eyes as the light began to fade in them. Tried to hold her stare so she knew he really meant it. Weeks. Months. It was so long overdue and this was far from how he wanted to ever admit it. Open up to her like she had him. But now he needed to. So he swallowed, swallowed so thick as if his very life was caught in his throat.

"I love you." A statement so foreign, and yet, felt so right. Something wet brushed against his cheek. A tear. Was he crying? "I love you, Agatha Van Helsing."

A weight lifted off his shoulders. The entire universe relieving him of the pressure he'd felt for so long. He gazed down at her so longingly it was as if everything had stopped around them. Waited for her final words. Praying she'd give into his demands.

Agatha smiled weakly and closed her eyes at his confession. "Okay," his lover murmured. "Okay…"

And Dracula's fangs plunged into her throat.

#Dracula #Dracula 2020 #Dragatha #Agatha Van Helsing #Dracula x Agatha #Bad Moon Rising

36 notes · View notes

boogiewrites · 3 years

Text

No. 9: The Body CH. 6

Characters: Diego Hargreeves & OFC Eve Corpuz

Summary: Eve explores the limits of her power. Diego is still stalking her and finds out more about her. Eve meets Klaus.

Warnings/Tags: Klaus. Talk of past trauma and phobias. Brief mentions of illness, injury and death.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT! If you’d like added to the tags, just let me know. This is a multi-chapter fic.

Eve had begun to notice changes in her shape from the training. Work wasn’t as strenuous and honestly, her ass was looking fantastic. Her body was adapting but she felt she wasn’t exercising her mind enough. Out of the two, trying to use her mind and powers was harder to find time for since it was so draining. Using them at work in small increments to help things along was now manageable, but there were no visible results from it. Nothing she could look at, try to heal, and then see healed. So that’s where she started.

Eve wasn’t a stranger to doing illegal things. If you took a look at her juvenile record that would be clear. What she was doing wasn’t exactly illegal but it was certainly breaking some rules. She was finding it surprising how much she could get away with by simply wearing her white coat with her ID and having a determined look on her face. People held doors open for her that she didn’t have clearance for, add carrying a clipboard around on top of that and she could’ve gotten into just about anywhere it seemed. She was starting to understand how Diego was so good at it, and more interestingly understanding why he did it. That little flush of her cheeks and rush of misbehaving came back to her, something she’d not felt in over a decade, fueled her powers, and gave her a little oomph to work with.

She started small, visited patients being held that was out of the ER after surgery, vehicle accidents, and the like, plenty of small cuts and scrapes that no one would notice were gone. She’d look in and find someone resting and alone, not hard to do most nights. She’d find some road rash, a smaller gash, something not too intricate. At first, she thought she needed to put her hands on the person to heal and woke up a few very understandably startled people. But after a few successful attempts, she started to push herself more. By focusing she began to be able to heal cuts over and no scar would be left in its place. Whoever she did this to, she would check on their file until they were discharged, making sure she wasn’t hurting them or causing bad side effects. So far they’d all made a full recovery with no complications. This was extremely promising and made Eve’s confidence grow and therefore emboldened her to push herself.

She’d worn herself ragged running experiments on what she could or couldn’t do. She had a journal she kept hidden that she kept her results in. So far, she’d been able to find some limitations and strengths. No matter how hard she tried, she was no match for cancer. She could help with someone’s side effects momentarily but be unable to cure it. The same could be said for viral and bacterial instances. Once something had infiltrated and infested a body, she could no longer help it. She could only manipulate the body itself. Her hopes of being able to be the cure for cancer, which she would admit was a bit egotistical, were broken after seeing many fade away after brief respites she’d give them from nausea or pain. It was nice to be able to help certainly but having to see suffering and not be able to fix it was a heavy burden she was having to learn to deal with.

It was never easy to lose someone. It was something she wouldn’t say you got used to exactly, but it was something you could come to understand with time. Or at least be able to come to terms with. Since Eve was an emotional person deep down, and the healing she’d been trying to do to help herself manage that was opening up old wounds and was making her feel raw. Every life that slipped through her fingers would hit her harder than it had months prior. Which is what led her to be so reckless, she guesses. So she tried to bring someone back from the dead.

It wasn’t uncommon sadly, for a child brought in after catching a stray bullet from a hit and run or gang violence. It felt so unfair, and the first time she tried the child was rolled in, DOA, her heart poured out for them. She gave it her all, paddles, compressions and when nothing moved the vitals she had a last-ditch effort. A tear-filled pressing of her hands to the chest of the child, nurses looked on with heartbroken eyes for the doctor as she had a rare moment of breaking on the job. For a fleeting moment, a blip on the monitor later ruled out to a technical glitch, but Eve just couldn’t muster it. She passed out onto the bloody floor from her attempts and was sent home.

She’d had mixed feelings about it. Had she almost done it? Could she get stronger? Or had she found a line that she couldn’t cross? The page entry for her recorded attempts had teardrops running her ink on that entry. She felt defeated and decided to take a break.

--------------------------

Diego watches Eve without her knowing, as he sometimes still does. He trusts her, but a part of him always wants to be sure. She’s in an unusual neighborhood, going into an apartment building he doesn’t know. He decided to wait on her to appear again instead of finding her inside. He didn’t have to wait much more than an hour before she appeared again, seeming uneasy as she stepped back into the now dark streets.

He followed behind, spilling out of an alleyway after she passed and started the task of getting closer to her. When he finally got close enough to reach out and speak he was met swiftly with a switchblade and a series of moves he’d taught her.

“Woah! Hey! It’s me!” He says defensively, only a minor rise in key from surprise as he jumped back.

“Jesus fucking CHRIST Diego!” She says with an expression he’s never seen before.

“Hey! Hey! I didn’t know you’d be so jumpy!” He keeps his hands up between them as she huffs out of her nose like a bull, the late winter night air just still barely showing her breath.

“I’m a woman. Alone. At night on the street, dude!” She states obviously and biting as she puts her blade away. “Of COURSE I’m jumpy!” She whispers angrily.

“Look, there are people around and the streetlights are on... I didn’t know I’d scare you.” He explains with hands now on her shoulders. “You okay? You’ve got that wild look in your eyes.”

“I’m just…” she sighs and shakes her head. “I’m fine. I just… Wanna get home.”

“Looks like we need to train on lying.” He smirks.

She stares at him for a moment with pursed lips then shrugs and turns back in the direction she was going.

“Mind if I walk with you?”

“No, I'd like that actually.” She murmurs.

“What are you doing in this part of town?”

“Do you follow me everywhere?”

“No…” he answers defensively playful. “I was around and saw you. Got curious.”

“You can’t send a text like a normal person?”

“Not my style.”

“Difficult is your style.”

“Hey, slow down there with the rapid-fire insults here. Did I do something?”

“Besides stalk me? No.”

“Then why are you being such a-“ he stops as she shoots her eyes his way. “Difficult person?” He tries to cover smoothly.

Once again she stares as if contemplating something. “If I tell you will you stop asking?”

“Sorry, no promises. Don’t think I missed where you didn’t answer why you’re here.”

“Fine.” She begins to walk again. “I’m here apartment hunting. Not so great street, but that apartment is really nice. And I have a fear… a phobia that you’re gonna laugh at me for so I don’t wanna tell you.”

“When have I ever laughed at you?”

She raises her brows obviously at him.

“Okay, I won’t now.” he emphasizes.

“I don’t believe you for some reason.”

“I swear! I won’t.”

“Due to… past trauma, I am afraid of the dark. And I don’t know this part of town and it makes me nervous. I’d catch a cab but I want to learn the subways so I need to walk it.”

He stays quiet for a moment. “Afraid of the dark?”

“Yes, my mom would lock me in the closet and read scripture and scare me and shit. Okay? And it traumatized me so when it’s dark and I’m overstimulated I get really... panicky.” She explains defensively.

“Don’t have to fight me over it, it’s fine. I...get it.”

“Don’t tell me you were locked in a closet too?”

“No, but he did do it to my brother. And it was a mausoleum and not a closet.”

“Fuck.” she exhales.

“Yeah. Pretty fucked up.”

“The more we learn about each other the more often we say that.”

“Get used to it.” He huffs out a laugh. They walk for a moment in comfortable silence while Eve tried to let her defenses down against him. “You know you could’ve just... asked me to come with you ya know? I am pretty handy when it comes to navigating the city. And being a bodyguard.”

“It’s not something I’m proud of.” She shakes her head. “Yeah, Diego? Hey, could you babysit me because I’m a child who’s afraid of the dark and not a grown-ass woman who can handle her own shit?”

“Well, it’s better than you almost stabbing me!”

“And whose fault was that?”

“...your moms if you want to get really technical about it.”

She lets out a weak laugh and he feels accomplished. ”Don’t forget your dad too”

“Oh yeah fuck both of them.” He says eagerly in agreement. They share a smile and he stays close to her side. “Why are you looking for an apartment?” He breaks the silence.

“Some asshole keeps breaking into mine.”

“Seriously.” He grins and smacks her arm.

“Well I’m on salary now and it’s good money so I can afford a better place.”

“Oh. I kinda like your place.”

“I don’t hate it but it’d be nice to have some more room. An office, a view.” They stand at a corner to wait for a light change. “I’d like a place with more privacy. Maybe a doorman for safety?”

“And that apartment had all that?” He motions back with his thumb.

“Yeah, it was stupid nice for the area. I was surprised it wasn’t more-“ both their heads snap to the car that passed far too fast and close, and luckily it wasn’t them, but a bike messenger up ahead that going to be the target.

They see it happen so fast, and they’re both instinctually moving towards the man that’s now on the ground and trying not to scream, holding his leg.

They were the only ones close out of the street and rush to help.

“Ah fuck, don’t call the ambulance I dont have insurance okay?”

“Well, you’re not walking anywhere like that.” Diego states obviously.

“Lucky for you I’m a Doctor. Let me see. Can you move it?” She moves his sock down to quickly see bone through skin. “Ah man, I’m sorry to tell you this but it’s really...broken dude.” She looks at him with sympathetic eyes.

“Ah fuck.” They cry. “My boss is gonna fire me for sure now. I can’t afford to get this fixed… I can’t take time off…” they begin to hiccup and tears come quickly.

Eve stares at the trauma site and furrows her brow in thought. “Maybe I can…” she whispers.

“Doc...?” she hears Diego’s voice, a warning behind her.

“I’m gonna try. I have to.” She says with wide eyes that convince him on impact. She turns back and puts her hands on the busted ankle, “Stay still if you can.” She mutters before going into her focused state.

“What are you? Listen lady I appreciate you stopping but I don’t think praying over it is gonna work.” They offer but their voice slows as they gradually feel the pain disappear. “What the…” they turn their ankle in a circle and their jaw drops. “HOW DID? WHAT DID?”

Eve shares a very excited glance with Diego before he yanks her up. “We’ve gotta get out of here.”

“Wait no! Don’t go!” A now on their feet and the healed biker was calling out as they both ran down the street into the subway below.

She felt alive. Exhilarated. A smile on her face and hand in hand with Diego as they bobbed and swerved through the crowd.

“Did you SEE?” She calls out as they make it sliding just in time into the subway car.

“YES! You didn’t tell me you’d gotten so good!”

“I’ve been practicing!” She says out of breath and glowing from a sheen of sweat that she’d developed in the rush.

“I’d say so! You just...POOF!”

“I’ll have to show you my notes.”

“Notes?”

“I’ve been keeping track of all my attempts. Like a scientific study. Well… sort of…” she shrugs and wipes her hair back.

“You would find a way to make this nerdy.” He laughs.

“Scientific method is not nerdy!”

He laughs out loud. “That’s the nerdiest thing you’ve ever said!”

“That was awesome though right?”

“Yeah, it was risky but...awesome.” He nods in agreement as they both calm back down and move into whispers of her trial and error.

——————————-

“You just have to remember to be defensive and not just offensive.”

“You know I don’t give a shit about sports Diego.” Eve laughs as she pulls her gym bag over her shoulder.

“I’m serious! You'll get-" he insists with a whine.

"You’ll get yourself hurt when shit gets real.” She says with him and rolls her eyes. “I know! Okay?” She says with a sassy hand motioned his way. “I’ll work on it. Like I always do. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now, cut me some slack.” She groans as he walks her to the front of the gym to leave.

They’re met with a thin and friendly-looking guy their age who she thought looked familiar. Diego’s body language automatically tenses.

“Oh hello there you.” Klaus coos at Eve whose bright friendly eyes don’t match Diego’s already annoyed ones at his appearance. “I didn’t know my brother would be busy with a beautiful woman tonight, my apologies.” He sweeps his hands and takes her's to kiss the back of it.

“Hi.” She stutters with surprise. “I was just leaving. Had a training session. Works got weird hours so your brother is nice enough to see me at night.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’d see a lovely thing like you anytime you wanted.”

“Let her go, Klaus.”

“What is your name before our paths separate and never meet again. I’d never forgive myself for not asking.”

“It’s Eve.” She laughs. “You’re much nicer than Diego. Do you know how to fight too? Maybe you could train me since he’s such an asshole.” She motions to Diego and Klaus lets out an amused sound.

“Alas I’m fairly useless in such things but I make up for it in other ways.” He winks.

“Okay! GOODNIGHT EVE.” Diego says politely pushing her out the door. “Sorry about Klaus He's…an idiot.”

“No apologies he's rather charming.” She teases him more and waves goodbye as she exits into her cab.

“What the fuck was that?” Diego shoves his lanky brother.

“Eve hmmm? A sexy name for a sexy little-“

“Stop it.” Diego groans.

“That’s her isn’t it?” Klaus smirks and begins to float about as Diego closes up.

“Her who?”

“Your mystery doctor.”

Diego doesn’t answer hoping naively that Klaus would stop.

“Oh come on, I’m your bro, your bud. Your pal. You can tell me.” He insists with outstretched arms.

“Yeah. I’m training her.”

“She seems like she’d be the one training you if you catch my drift.”

“It’s not like that.”

“That smile you had on your face before you realized I was watching would say otherwise.” He lilts. “You’re a terrible liar Diego just don’t try.”

“I’m a great liar!” He barks back.

“You’re shit and you should just be honest with me, I AM the psychic after all.”

“You’re not psychic you see the dead and-“

“And what is the difference?!” Klaus flops just hands at his side and follows his brother upstairs.

Diego continues as if he said nothing. “You’d have to be sober to do that so so I’m not gonna hold my breath on that.”

“I actually have been. Not that you supportive lot would notice.” He prances into the apartment behind a grunting Diego. “Because your little girlfriend is causing quite the ruckus amongst the city’s dead.”

“What?” Diego asks with a raised brow.

“She didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“She almost brought one back.”

“She did…” he seems deep in contemplation for a moment. “Wait so you HAVE been sober?” Diego’s eyes turn soft and Klaus groans as he’s quickly approached and hugged.

“You are missing the point here Diego dear…”

“I’m proud of you.” He says with emotion in his voice and Klaus manages a heavy sigh and a pat to his back.

“Stop it now before I have feelings…” he pats him and pushes him away. “What do we know about this Eve? She’s messing with the balance, she’s a powerful little thing. And gorgeous I might add, I’d be keeping her to myself too. Unless she was into being shared…”

“I don’t think she is.” Diego falls back into his monotone answering after a brief glimmer of earnest emotion.

“Different strokes, different folks.” Klaus shrugs. “So is that ass as breathtaking as it looked in those leggings or-?”

“KLAUS!”

“What? I’m just a red-blooded American male, I see a nice ass, I admire it.”

“I wouldn’t KNOW.” He answers from behind the doorway of his bedroom, door left open. “But I’d have to say yes.” He adds quickly.

“Ahhhh! There he is.” Klaus applauds his brother's cheeky smile. “Now that you’re not in a prudish mood, I actually do want to know about her. Details, man! Out with it! What’s my little private dick figured out on our newest sibling?”

“Ew don’t say that.”

“I knew you wanted to fuck her.” Klaus smirks.

“Jesus Klaus!” Diego groans.

“Not that it’s stopped any of us before, cough Luther, cough.”

“Hey, we’re not biological!”

“Defending Luther now? Number one? Daddy’s goodest boy? Diego’s sworn nemesis?”

“EW! No! I’m just… saying. It’s a fact so...it’s...valid.”

“Good thing you’ve got your looks hun.” Klaus tsks.

“Do you wanna know about her or you wanna talk shit and get hit?”

“So hostile.” Klaus shakes his shoulders. “Go on you party pooper, tell me about our new super doctor.”

@s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s @jaegeeeeer @diegos-butt @anglovesthis

#diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves fanfic #The Umbrella Academy #the umbrella academy fanfic #david castañeda

17 notes · View notes

carmenlire · 4 years

Text

To An Inauspicious Start

read on ao3

There’s a man and it’s probably nothing.

Alec steps into the 24/7 coffee shop at a time no one should be awake-- not the employees, not the four customers who look mostly dead and full of long suffering regret, and certainly not Alec himself.

He’s having trouble sleeping these days.

As he waits at the cash register, he thinks over his schedule. He took a late nap yesterday evening and it just served to fuck with his circadian rhythm even more. He has to be at the office in four hours and it seems absurd, to be dressed in a three piece suit in a shitty cafe where the lights are unflattering and flickering and the staff looks like they’re two espresso shots from collapsing.

Alec can relate.

He orders his black eye, thankful when the barista doesn’t blink at the horrifying request, and turns toward the half dozen empty tables.

There’s a woman sitting in the corner with a stroller. He can see the dark shadows under her eyes from here as she absently soothes her kid.

Across the room, there are a couple of teenagers, both of whom look equal parts emotional and blase as they huddle together on the same side of the booth.

Hastily removing his gaze from them, his eyes land on the only other occupant of the coffee shop.

It’s probably sleep deprivation edging towards delirium that makes Alec want to sit down across from the man.

He’s handsome, in an in your face kind of way that makes Alec almost want to apologize for daring to look at him in the first place. But there’s a softer undertone to the man’s appearance that makes Alec want to take a second look, a third and fourth.

It’s in the smudge of his eyeliner, the way his expression seems almost pasted onto his face-- a facade hiding what he’s truly feeling.

Alec only recognizes it because he sees the same tightness in his own face whenever he looks in the mirror.

He wants to keep looking, allows himself a ludicrous moment to contemplate throwing caution and common sense to the wind to introduce himself to the man who sips at his tea with all the elegance expected of a drawing room engagement.

Alec’s not that kind of man, though, and anyone at a coffee shop this far before dawn can only be seeking their own sort of solace. He’d be an ass to infringe upon that, not when he came here to be by himself but among others in the same way.

Choosing his seat by the window, Alec shrugs out of his suit jacket and drapes it across the back of his chair before taking a seat. Mondays always come earlier and it seems like lately, they’d been barreling into him earlier than ever.

He can’t deny that most people would probably still consider it Sunday night.

The only sound in the little cafe is the ill-tempered screech of the espresso machine, the tiny gurgling of a baby fighting sleep. It’s pitch black outside with barely a soul on the street.

It’s soothing in its own way, Alec thinks. It’s almost as though he’s not a person in this space, at this time. He’s not a man aiming to make partner before the year’s out. He’s not a fucking disgrace of a son keeping a secret from his parents that would blow the whole damn family apart in its scandal and deviance.

He’s not a depressed fuck with more issues than he knows what to do with, no matter that he’ll be twenty six in a few weeks and by all accounts-- his own estimations-- he should have stopped feeling like he was barely clinging onto adulthood years ago.

That’s the thing, he thinks with a derisive little smile that’s aimed at himself before anyone else. He’s an adult and there’s no denying it but jesus christ sometimes he feels like the anvil’s about to drop on top of his head at any moment, someone popping out from the woodwork to tell him he actually has been fucking up his life all these years, that he’s wasted it all on petty promises and aimless cyclical thinking and it’s all downhill from here.

As though he doesn’t already feel like that most days.

His stomach gives a little pang and Alec spares a moment to pin down the last time he ate. There was a granola bar when he woke up from his nap several hours ago, before he spent another several hours staring at the wall and wondering if everyone else feels like this too and is just better at hiding it.

Deciding it’s not worth the effort of ordering from the cafe’s limited menu-- he doesn’t want a fucking croissant and the oatmeal would probably taste like cardboard-- Alec leans back in his chair and stares out the window, which mostly means he watches himself in the reflection of the window, it turning into a mirror throwing his own pristine appearance back in his face.

It’s almost a surprise that he doesn’t look as haggard as he feels. But no, he shaved and slipped into one of his dozen pressed suits, perfectly tailored and understated.

It wouldn’t do for a Lightwood to look anything less than his best, whether they’re going to the office or an all night cafe on a forgotten street.

As he eases into himself, thoughts that he’d been pushing back crowd closer in the quiet and in the sharp haziness of the hour, Alec admits that there are worse places to be.

Sure, maybe he wishes he was sleeping and he would definitely be more comfortable in his hoodie sinking into his couch, but this is what he’d wanted, what he needed.

There’s a barrier between him and the rest of the world and while it’s self-imposed, he likes to imagine that he has control here too, that his suit and watch and fucking coiffed hair makes him inaccessible in a way so that it doesn’t feel so much like he can’t connect to everybody else but that they can’t approach him.

It’s a fine line but he thinks it keeps him sane, that illusion of control.

He’s not so caught up in his head that he doesn’t notice the barista set his drink down. He thanks her with a nod and takes the first jarring sip that almost makes him choke on the bitterness.

It’s good. It makes him feel something, even if it’s mostly revulsion and resignation that he’s going to finish the whole damn drink before probably ordering another.

Alec’s twenty five and thinks he shouldn’t feel like this. He feels old and not in the charming, romantic way.

In the way that probably means he’ll be lucky to make it to thirty at this rate.

Work is a never ending garbage fire and just the thought of stepping into the glass fronted building makes his skin crawl. Dealing with pompous asshole coworkers he really couldn’t care less about, humoring clients that are rude and frankly, dumb as fuck and entitled to boot. It’s all a drain on him and he doesn’t know how he’s going to make it through the next thirty years like this when it’s barely been three and he already feels like he’s mostly dead.

Then there’s that other matter that ebbs and flows through his conscious like trash in the ocean. It’s weighing particularly heavy lately, the thought that there’s a whole area of his life that his family don’t know about-- can’t know about-- and sometimes he’s so tired of catering to their bigoted, shitty little sensibilities that he wants to scream, thinks he’d scream his throat raw if given half the opportunity.

Jace is getting married at the end of the year and having to listen to him plan honeymoons and engagement parties and stress about vows and looking like a fool during the first dance, all while planning a bachelor party that none of the attendees will remember if all goes well, is--

Well, it’s a lot. On top of everything else, it fills Alec with a hollowness in his chest and it burns, shrinks his soul until he feels like grinding it under his heel.

He’ll never have that-- the celebration, the loudness, the acceptance, the purity of happiness and hope.

It’s a pill that’s becoming increasingly bitter the older he gets and it’s another thing Alec can’t even fathom dealing with until he fucking dies.

Heavy is the head, he thinks to himself with a mocking grin but that’s bullshit and he knows it. In another world, Alec Lightwood is brave and daring and maybe even a little selfish.

In this world, he’s the heir dealt a shit hand and that means there’s no respite. There’s only forward, slow plodding steps as he becomes the man his parents groomed him to be, the son set to take over the family reigns without blemish or complaint.

Goddamn, he’s tired.

Alec doesn’t know how long he sits there but eventually he notices that the light is a little brighter, the window less a mirror revealing all the weaknesses he tries to hide and instead showing the outside world, the hum of a city waking up for the day.

Straightening his back with a little groan, cracking his neck and wincing, Alec takes a look around the shop.

The teenagers look mostly asleep in the corner-- that is until Alec sees one of them kiss the one who was crying earlier on top of their head before adjusting his earbud and settling back.

The woman and kid must’ve left awhile ago, their place clean and empty.

The man who Alec had almost made a fool of himself over is gone, too. In the privacy of his own mind, Alec’s not afraid to admit he’s a little sad about that. Nothing could’ve happened.

Nothing did happen.

But Alec’s always been a little bit of a hopeless romantic, despite his best efforts. He tends to land on a subject, an idea, a detail, and worry it to shreds, turning it over and over until everything’s just the way he likes it, barely recognizable.

So maybe there was a part of Alec that thought what if, maybe, one day, perhaps.

But the man is gone and while Alec’s favorite past time is wasting energy on things that have no hope of happening, he files the intriguing stranger away in his head to dwell on during another rough night when human connection seems the worst sort of punishment and his greatest solace all wrapped up into one faraway ideal.

That is, until he looks down at his empty cup and sees a napkin where there shouldn’t be one.

Alec has a weird but deep seated resentment towards napkins and never uses them, never picks them up just in case. But, there’s a napkin on the edge of his table and even from here he can see the dark smudges of ink lining the corner.

You look like you’re having a rough night, darling. Us insomniacs have to stick together. Let me know if you’re ever in the mood to share the weight on your shoulders with a stranger who’s been told his are excellent for crying or comfort or a little distraction. -- Magnus

Magnus.

Interesting name, Alec thinks as he reads the message a second time-- and a third and a fourth and a fifth until he thinks he’ll see the stupid little napkin in his dreams, until the numbers accompanying the message seem seared into his mind.

His first thought is that this Magnus is kind. Who does that, not only notices a stranger have an awful time but goes out of their way to do something about it.

It’s intriguing, a little scary, a lot tempting.

Still.

Alec’s a grown man and he doesn’t need a shoulder. He’s too busy for that, has far too much at stake to let someone else-- a stranger at that-- see all the shit that his brain spews at him every minute of every fucking day.

No, he decides. A kind gesture, while appreciated, does not have to be acknowledged.

Wishing Magnus a very lovely Monday-- hell, a great week-- Alec shakes his head a little to clear his thoughts and tamp down on the urge to text a stranger all of his problems and hope, by the grace of God, that they can do anything to alleviate some of the weight from his chest.

Sighing and wishing he didn’t sound so damned tired even to his own ears, Alec stands and makes his way back to the cashier to order another black eye and start towards the office. He’ll probably be the first one there but he has a reputation to uphold, a partnership to earn.

Still.

Before he leaves his table, Alec swipes the napkin and stuffs it into his pocket.

It’s almost unconsciously done and there’s no care in the placement. The napkin is crumpled, balled up and crinkled in his pants pocket and he mostly forgets about it.

When he does his laundry at the end of the week, though, he still doesn’t throw it out. He walks to the trash can and his hand hovers over the bag for a minute, for two, until he sighs in exasperation at his own idiot self and tosses it, still crumpled with the ink smudging at the edges, into his takeout drawer.

There’s a man and it’s probably nothing. Given a little time, a gentle nudge the next time Alec’s too tired to make dinner and ransacks his kitchen for his Chinese takeout only to push the napkin away in frustration and exhaustion, a soft meeting of the eyes across the cafe on another night, weeks later, when Alec’s so tired he could cry and Magnus is sipping another cup of tea and working on a crossword puzzle with a quill pen, of all things.

He might be onto something, though, Alec wonders as he finds that message months later after a dozen incidental meetings where Magnus never pushes but Alec feels moved, different, all the same.

In the deepest corners of his mind, the hidden pockets of his heart, Alec hopes it’s something, anything.

To his surprise and delight and mild terror, it turns into everything.

#my writing #to an inauspicious start #malec fic

43 notes · View notes