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thusspoketrish · 3 years

Text

Words Are Very Unnecessary

TW: Dark fic; Angst; mental illness; mention of past suicide attempt; implied self-harm; scarring; psychiatric ward; unethical medical practices/harm; inappropriate patient/doctor/staff interactions; shifting tenses

Created for the prompt Pretend for @drarrymicrofic

Title taken from Depeche Mode’s Enjoy the Silence

3.3K words. This is something that I may consider coming back to expand on in the future. READ ON AO3.

A heartwarming thank you to @starlitsilvereyes for the thorough beta!

When Healer Robins announces that Harry will not be carrying out his final rotation at St Mungo’s, he’s shocked. He’s done everything he can within the last few months to prove himself capable: he’s completed his clinical rotations with commendations, he’s saved lives, he’s brought coffee and donuts in from his favourite bakery in Diagon every Friday, and he’s even played nice with the first-year Trainee Healers. But as Healer Robins announces his fate, Harry not only feels the bottom of his stomach fall—he can practically feel the smug smile burning a hole into the back of his head from his colleague, competitor, and overall pain in his arse, Blaise Zabini.

“I’m sorry Harry, but Blaise has already proven quite successful with some of the patients in Janus Thickey. I’m afraid that if we remove him, many of the patients will respond negatively to the change,” Healer Robins says, aiming a warm smile at Zabini.

“And you have a muggle vehicle, that James Bond-looking thing, am I right, Harry?” Zabini asks.

Harry turns to face him. He hates to admit it, but Zabini looks attractive in the lime green robes—but everything about him is stylish, with his broad shoulders, his fancy clothing under his robes, his stylish haircut. Too stylish for a Healer, Harry thinks glumly, staring down at his beat-up trainers he’s had for three years now. Harry grimaces as the other man smiles widely at him. He’d wager his entire Gringotts vault that Zabini has charmed a tooth to twinkle when he smiles like that.

“Yeah, why?” Harry grunts. He doesn’t want to show just how disappointed he is over missing out on the Thickey Ward, but he’s never been that great at compartmentalising his feelings.

“You’ll need one where you’re going,” Healer Robins says.

--------

As soon as Harry pulled his sleek black ’52 Jaguar XK-120 (a result of his quarter-life crisis earlier in the year) into the driveway of St Peter’s Asylum, the 16th century estate sends a chill up his spine. He exits his car and ambles around the property for a while, wanting to gain a better sense of his new work environment. There’s a 25-mile-long anti-Apparition ward surrounding the property and no Floo Network connection. Everything about the property felt duplicitous. The beautiful large bay windows were covered excessively with sharp, pointy metal bars, stained-glass depicting religious iconography were covered in grime and spiderwebs. The columned archway framing the front entrance has cracks in them and are covered in rotting foliage. Behind the estate is a crematorium where ominous black smoke currently poured from the vents, spilling upward into the grey sky. He should have known then that something was amiss.

After a confusing meeting with Head Healer Madison, a quick introduction to the nurses and orderlies, Harry is shown to his small, gloomy office. Settled in, when he finally glanced through the files of his new patients, he nearly spilled his coffee on the pile.

He did not expect to see Draco Malfoy on his rota.

He can recall the last time he saw Malfoy, right after the trials, when Harry’s testimony wasn’t enough to save him completely from time in Azkaban, but anything after? He can’t. He does not recall exactly how much time Malfoy served—had it been three years or four? Did he receive early release or was that his father? How had Harry simply put Malfoy out of his mind after everything they had both been through? How had Zabini not warned him Malfoy would be in a psychiatric ward? Did he even know?

All these questions left a sour taste in Harry’s mouth. He had asked Healer Madison to give Malfoy’s file to a different Healer due to the conflict of interest, but there were no other Healers that would take Malfoy, and so Harry was left with a quandary: either help Malfoy or they’ll send him back to Azkaban, untreated, to serve out the rest of his sentence.

Malfoy’s file was as depressing as Harry imagined it to be.

Malfoy was considered a permanent resident on the ward, but the history is muddled as to why he’s been labelled permanent if his psychiatric care was part of his early release requirements from Azkaban. The threadbare treatment plan had no end goals or date to reintegrate Malfoy into Magical society. The file simply read of an attempted suicide in Azkaban, manic depression, and tendencies towards excessive violence to not just himself but those around him when angered—this was one of the reasons Healers refused him care. He had apparently injured the last three, one almost fatally. He’s been kept heavily medicated, but lately has been refusing treatment. The nurses have been providing the necessary potions intravenously.

Malfoy also hasn’t uttered a single word to anyone—not staff or other patients—for over two years.

From the gossip that the nurses regularly indulged in, Harry was able to learn that Malfoy befriended a young Scottish man named Ziggy and an elderly woman named Lottie that was also considered mute and antisocial. Ziggy had died exactly over two years ago under mysterious conditions and his body was sent to the crematorium instead of autopsied by the local Medical Examiner. When Harry had brought this oversight to Healer Madison, he had been scolded and suspended for three days for viewing files not assigned to him. She threatened to send him back to St. Mungos if he continued to work on the files that have been sealed by the Chief Healer, which would result in him failing his final rotation.

This, of course, further fuelled Harry’s interests.

-------

Harry began to watch Draco’s condition much more closely.

The other man still wouldn’t utter a word to Harry, and sometimes he wondered if Draco even recognised who he was sitting in front of, his eyes unfocused, body slumped in his chair with his bandaged arms wrapped around his body, his long blond hair falling to his shoulders in messy clumps.

Harry began to discover bruises around Draco’s wrists when they’d meet for sessions. When they began to appear around Draco’s neck, and finally, his left eye, Harry calmly enquired about it, and this sent Draco into a silent, violent frenzy. Draco had shoved most of the contents on Harry’s desk to the floor, thrown books at the walls, and ripped one of his bandages free to viciously dig his nails up and down his arm. Harry had to call a CODE RED as he scrambled to unlock his wand from the warded drawer of his desk to Stupefy Draco before he reopened all his wounds. It was the first time Harry had seen any kind of real reaction from the other man and quite frankly, it scared the hell out of him. He had watched helplessly as the orderlies rushed in to gather Draco’s limp body from the floor.

Later that day, he approached Healer Madison.

“I’d like the evaluation forms for any other medical treatments Mr Malfoy is having here,” Harry had demanded. She had popped her gum in Harry’s face before rolling her eyes at his request.

“Those records are private, Potter. For the Chief Healer’s eyes only,” she had said.

“Well, I need the evaluation forms as well. I should be aware of any changes in treatment methods, considering Malfoy is one of my patients.”

Healer Madison patted Harry on the shoulder. “Relax, Potter. No need to be such a bloody worry-wort. Code reds happen all the time here. You’ll soon come to realise how we do things at St Peter’s.”

-------

Harry left the hospital at 5pm every day. Like clockwork, when he’s just about to get into his car, he’ll look up to the third-floor window of the recreation room where he’ll catch Draco staring down at him through the slats of the bars. Each time, the monster in Harry’s chest that’s begun to grow with Harry’s concern and affection for Draco, roared to life. He knew it would be just a matter of time before Draco ended up dead if Harry did not figure out what’s going on in this hospital.

--------

On a particularly cold, grey day in October, one month into Harry’s rotation at St Peter’s, Harry enters the third-floor recreation room. All of Harry’s patients have been improving greatly, Draco in particular. Intravenous treatment ended a week ago as he’s now more cooperative in taking his medication by mouth. His self-harming had eased somewhat, but there were still bad days that Harry monitored closely. Draco interacts with staff and his friend Lottie again, sitting next to her to watch the Muggle telly or just holding her wrinkled hand as they both stare out the window. His grey gaze seemed stronger, more focused, determined, even. It made Harry happy to see a sliver of the person he once knew shining through, and he hoped it would just be a matter of time before Draco speaks, so Harry can help him.

Harry glances around the room. Soft music is playing from off the telly. There's plenty of places to sit, but he opts to walk over to the window where Draco is sitting and playing chess by himself. The man’s wrists are bandaged again, no doubt from picking at his scars. Harry can see a patch of blood through the gauze and wonders why none of the nurses have been around to replace them. He wishes he had his wand (which is locked in his office for safety reasons) so he can replace the bandage himself.

“Draco,” Harry starts warmly. “How are you doing today?”

Draco looks up from the board and Harry gasps. There’s another brutal black eye around his left eye, and the top of his lip is split. Harry reaches out, his fingers lightly touching Draco’s lips before grazing along his jaw. Draco remains very, very still under Harry’s touch, his lips parting slightly as his chest heaves. When Harry remembers himself, he snatches his hand back as if he’s been burned.

“Who did this to you?” Harry hisses.

For a moment, Draco’s eyes turn incredibly bright as he exhales a phlegmy breath before his gaze shutters. Harry sits on the opposite side of the board, staring down at it as Draco takes one trembling hand to move his black bishop to E5. Harry sighs.

“You can tell me, Draco. I…I want to help you. I know there’s something terrible happening in this hospital, and I know someone is hurting you. Please, Draco—”

Draco abruptly stands from his seat, startling Harry. Draco doesn’t pay him any notice as he stretches his long, rail-thin body before strolling up to the nurse’s station. He taps on the glass divider several times before Nurse Mathilde slides the panel open.

“What is it, Mr Malfoy?”

Draco mimes smoking a cigarette.

Nurse Mathilde purses her lips. “The Chief Healer has given you permission to smoke again, but not until 5pm and especially not without an orderly present. You’ll have to wait until then. No exceptions!” she snaps before slamming the panel shut.

Draco doesn’t come back to his board game, nor does he glance over at Harry.

Harry watches as he instead sits next to his friend Lottie who is staring at the only plant in the recreational room. He lifts her wrinkled hand and entwines it with his own before settling in to watch the plant with her.

---------

At approximately 5pm Harry exits the asylum, briefcase in one hand and car keys in the other. When he passes by one of the gnarled oak trees, he notices Draco leaning against it, blowing tendrils of smoke from his cigarette. Harry slows down to watch him.

Draco’s hip is cocked out, his hospital shirt bunched up slightly, exposing a sliver of pale flesh and a titillating v-line that disappears in his thin cotton hospital pyjamas. He’s properly beautiful—all long lines and sharp edges carved in delicate, alabaster marble. Harry has noticed just how clearer Draco’s eyes are now, how the grey is piercing, brimming with cleverness and an intelligence that reminds Harry of the boy he knew in Hogwarts.

Harry’s suddenly startled out of his reverence when he glances around and notices that Draco is currently unattended.

Harry decides to approach him.

“Draco. Are you out here by yourself? Where is your attending orderly?”

“He was recovering from the blowjob I gave him before I did this—” Draco says, his voice thick and raspy. Harry is so shocked to hear the familiar drawl that he stumbles forward, his eyes widening, realises too late that Draco has lunged towards him, left hand raised high to strike Harry on the side of his head with a large, jagged rock.

When Harry comes to, it’s with a sharp groan and with the sound of a string of complex Latin filling his ears. He grits his teeth as a burning sensation wraps around his wrist. He realises that he’s frozen on the ground by a particularly thorough Petrificus Totalus. Despite his throbbing head, he focuses enough to catch Draco at his side, hissing as a thin, red bracelet appears on his left wrist, the bandages now gone. Harry hasn’t seen his left arm exposed before, and he cries out as he takes in the horrific scarring over the Dark Mark, as if someone had tried to peel the Mark off with a scalpel and failed to dig deep enough. There were healed and freshly scabbed cuts from his wrist to his elbow on both arms.

Draco appears above Harry then. “Oh, good. You’re awake.”

There are streaks of dirt across Draco’s face, his hands, and under his nails.

“Please, Draco, whatever it is…don’t…don’t…”

Draco snorts. “What, don’t hurt you? Don’t kill you? Why would I harm the person I’m currently Bonded to?” Draco asks, lifting Harry’s wrist to his face. The red bracelet there matches Draco’s.

Panic seizes Harry immediately. Had he not been completely immobile, he sure he’d be shuddering. “What the hell is going on?” Harry asks, his voice shaking.

Draco drops his wrist and instead lifts a thick, taped together manila folder covered in dirt. “You’re helping me get the fuck out of here, Potter.” A smile breaks across Draco’s face then, making him look both incredibly beautiful and deranged. “It was as if you breathed life back into me, the day you walked through the doors of St Peter’s. I knew then that I had to hold on just a bit longer because surely it was a sign that my initial hard work wasn’t done in vain. You see this file here? I used to sneak out documents I’d gather from Madison, the Chief Healer, and the nurses proving the abuse. Some of the orderlies will let you do whatever you want if you can…provide the right services…and they would often leave me alone long enough for a smoke. I would hide the files here, Potter. But after Z-Z-iggy—” Draco’s excitable tone falters, a veil of sadness falling so quickly over his face Harry experiences a sense of whiplash. “They killed my friend, Potter. They treated Ziggy well before, even let him play Bowie when things weren’t so bad. They killed him during the experiments…”

“What experiments?” Harry asks, shocked.

Draco’s expression shifts once again to happiness. “I knew you wouldn’t be involved in something so gruesome.” He holds up his scarred arm. “On the Dark Mark and Purebloods who have come from Dark families. They’re trying to figure out how Dark Magic is entwined in a person’s DNA and…I don’t know…undo it.”

Harry’s eyes widens, mind beginning to race. “What?”

If the Healers here were literally using human flesh and blood to somehow recreate or understand the links between DNA and inherent Dark Magic, who knows what kind of torture and body modification they’re causing their subjects.

Draco eyes become manic. “You have to help me. You have to get me out of here in the next five minutes. My outdoor time is only half an hour and the orderly is currently passed out—”

“—Draco,” Harry whispers, interrupting Draco’s spiral. “How many others are there…how many other victims?”

“I don’t know, I swear. I just knew Ziggy personally but there would always be screams, so much screaming, so many voices…” Draco says, closing his eyes and swaying on the spot. He mutters softly, incoherently, to himself for a few moments before he opens his eyes, so grey, intense and bright. Harry is overwhelmed with shock, horror, and above all, disgust. Disgusted that the people he’s been working alongside for a month now, the people who have vowed first to do no harm, have been torturing their patients, vulnerable patients.

“Draco, I want to help you, okay? I will help you. You just have to undo the Petrificus Totalus. We’ll get in the car and just drive. I’ll take you wherever you need to go.”

Draco holds up Harry’s wand, points it at Harry’s face. “If you betray me, Potter, you’ll regret it. We’ll get in that fancy car of yours and you’ll drive until I say stop. If you do anything to prevent me from getting these files to the right people…if you try to get help from the Aurors or let your friends know what’s going on, I’ll off myself. And this bond here, this bond will take you with me. I’m the only one that knows the counter, and once we get to my final destination, I’ll release you. So, don’t you dare fucking try me.”

Harry bites back a gasp.

Despite his very real fear, Harry’s desire to help Draco outweighs it. He nods.

“Okay, whatever you want. I’ll do it.”

Draco’s face, dark with suspicion, slowly starts to slide towards something lighter. He bares his teeth. “I hold onto the wand. You’re not allowed to touch me, period, or else I might get the wrong idea that you’re trying to get your wand back, and I don’t want to have to hurt you, or worse, hurt myself.”

“Yes, okay.”

With a wave of Harry’s wand, Draco undoes the spell. Harry sits up slowly, so as not to alarm Draco, who has quickly scrambled to his feet, the dirty file hugged to his chest, wand still trained on Harry. Harry follows after him, head throbbing and legs unsteady.

Draco casts a healing charm his way before strengthening a Disillusionment Charm around them.

Feeling much steadier, Harry exhales. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I hit you in the first place. I had no other means to incapacitate you.”

“You could have just told me what was going on.”

Draco shrugs. “I had to make sure you were trustworthy. And honestly, I’ve wanted to knock you out for years, so this very much fulfilled a boyhood dream of mine,” Draco says, his lips tugging upward. Harry pauses to look at him. The monster in his chest is awake, thrashing about as affection and desire feeds it.

Harry knows he’s fucked.

They make their way towards Harry’s car after checking on the unconscious orderly. Once settled in, Harry starts the car and drives, past the gates of the asylum and onto the stretch of empty country road. He glances at Draco, not at all shocked to see the tears that are streaming down his battered face.

“Where to?” Harry asks softly.

Draco continues to stare out ahead of him as he answers, “the only safehouse I know. A house on Spinner’s End, Cokeworth.”

Harry draws in a sharp breath.

#drarrymicrofic #Drarry Microfic #trigger warnings #Drarry #drarry fic #Healer!Harry Potter #Patient!Draco Malfoy #unreliable narrator #Dark themes #horror elements #honestly it's not THAT dark #right?#haha #to be continued #thank you for reading

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tatooedlaura-blog · 3 years

Text

Interim

set somewhere around Unrequited, that interim time when fighting fear in the daylight is one thing but battling it alone in the dark is another ...

Our Moment Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts) Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori) Chapter 3: Interim (floating somewhere around Unrequited)

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

It had been a longer case than normal, draining in every sense of the word: physically, mentally and emotionally, but they were almost there, he could feel it. Finally seeing a connection, everybody moved, organized chaos, Mulder and Scully amongst the throng of officers storming the building, guns out, ready for anything.

As with everything they ever did, it wasn’t easy. The suspect ran, hid, fired, threatened, ran again, fired some more, was finally taken down by one of the local cops but there was a foot chase first, that had them all running, searching, wishing his ass would just collapse and die in the middle of the street.

But it was done and sooner rather than later, they were de-briefing in the conference room, getting their paperwork in order. Looking around for Scully, to ask her what his writing said, he saw a glimpse of her back as she disappeared out the door. Usually she would have said something about going so, instead of letting her be, which she probably wished he would, he stood to follow, excusing himself from the talking crowd.

Scanning the front parking lot, he didn’t see her but deciding he might as well enjoy the unseasonable warmth of a Tennessee winter, he turned left, following the sidewalk around the building. Another turn left and he spotted her, sitting on the hood of their rental, facing away, small, hidden by a sea of police vehicles and employee parked Fords and Chryslers. He measurably widened his stride when he noticed her hand held up to her face.

He could see the blood dripping from between her fingers and down onto the pavement. Making it to her side, he pulled out one of several handkerchiefs he’d taken to carrying in his pockets and held it out to her, “take this.”

They had a routine, he helped, she let him.

It wasn’t long before the handkerchief saturated, Mulder touching her shoulder, “I’ll be back in a second with something else.” Seeing her nod, he ran back to the front door, asking calmly for some towels and getting them almost immediately, thanks to the helpful front desk officer and his mad organizational skills. Heading back Scully’s way, he was breathing heavy by the time she took his offering and dropped the soggy handkerchief to the ground. “Is it slowing down any?” Muffled ‘yes’ reached his ears but behind the wadded green towel obscuring half her face, he saw her skin sallow, white and translucent, veins beneath a blue map of fear. Now in front of her, he rested his hands on her thighs, leaning forward to kiss her forehead, smelling the iron tang of blood four inches below his nose, “do you want to go to the hospital?”

“Probably but I’d really rather just lay down for a few minutes, then get some orange juice or something, anything with some sugar in it.”

One last kiss and he pulled away, hand off thigh and up to towel, holding it for her so she could put her arms down, which she was grateful for. Every few seconds he’d move and check, finally finding the flow had slowed to a trickle, then finally stopped all together. Gently wiping away the smears from her chin, “I need maybe another half hour inside, then we can go or I can drop you at the hotel and come back.”

Desperately wanting a bed, she shook her head, “if you could just go find me something to eat, I’ll stay out here and wait for you.”

As he held her elbow, watched her slide from car to ground, “are you sure you don’t want a hospital?”

“I really don’t but thank you.”

“Fair enough.” Soon, she was settled in her seat, tilted back, coat near in case she got cold, “I’ll be back in a few. Don’t go anywhere.”

Eyes already shutting, “I won’t.”

&&&&&&&&&&

Tossing out the browning handkerchief, he carrying the clean towel he still had back to the station, having left the other with Scully. Handing it back to the officer, “thank you. I think we’ll need to keep the other one so if you’ll let me know what I owe you for it, I’d appreciate it.”

Shaking his head, “they’re just shop towels. We have boxes of them in the back.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you need any help out there? Something happen with your car?”

Another shake of his head, “no, we’re fine but thanks.”

Mulder then headed back towards the room of officers, finding the meeting over and the chief watching him approach, “everything all right? I saw your partner go, then you.”

Needing to be blunt because she wouldn’t be back in to help them finish, “I’d like to keep this quiet but Agent Scully has a medical condition that caused severe nosebleeds and she felt one coming on so she left. She’s out in the car now and I need to get her some juice first, then I’ll be back to finish up our end of the paperwork.”

Everyone had been cooperative, treating them well and even now, instead of irritation, the chief showed genuine concern, “is she alright now? Do you need to take her to the hospital?”

Looking around quickly, “she actually has cancer and the most the hospital could do would give her some juice and remind her that this kind of thing will happen.”

The chief liked the pair of them and crossing his arms, attentive, “is she getting treatment?”

Mulder really didn’t want to talk about this anymore, his mind divided between juice, Scully, paperwork, and Scully, “she is but with her type of tumor, surgery isn’t an option and the treatments aren’t doing much.” Needing to extract himself before he began sobbing in the large man’s arms, he inhaled slowly, “but we deal with it. Do you have anything I can take out for her?”

Having lost his wife to cancer several years ago, the chief recognized the look in Mulder’s eyes and knowing to end the conversation, he nodded, “come with me.”

Soon, Scully had her juice and crackers, Mulder returning inside yet again, this time determined to finish everything in under 30 minutes. As he watched Scully drink, he could see her color wasn’t returning as quickly as it should and the vacant look in her eye told him to hurry the hell up.

Thirty-four minutes later, he was shaking hands with the chief, accepting the man’s ‘good luck and God bless’ before leaving for the last time, opening the driver side door and driving off, his partner asleep in the seat beside him and even though he would never tell a soul, he actually checked to make sure she was breathing before anything else.

That action would haunt his sleepless nights for weeks to come.

She stirred once the car hit a pothole and looking up at his, blinking, “are you done?”

“Yeah. I’m going to pick us up some food first, then I’ll get you home.”

“I’d like a cheeseburger, if possible.”

Bag of food in hand 10 minutes later, Scully was nearly asleep again by the time they got to the hotel. Getting out of the car, she stumbled her way directly to her door, leaving behind bag, coat, shoes, and food. Smiling as he gathered their things, he followed her through her still open room door, shutting it with his foot, “do you want to change first or eat?”

“Eat, please.” Holding her hand out, “sorry. I didn’t even think to grab the bag. I just thought door and bed.”

“I’m keeping track. Once you get better, you’ll be my slave for a few weeks and we’ll call it even.” Saying it with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he handed her a napkin, “you’re gonna need this.”

Dinner was quick, inhaled more than chewed, Scully unfocused as she chewed, her body exhausted, her mind slow enough to allow sleep if she could just lay down. Halfway through her second burger, she suddenly put it down, “I need to go to sleep.” Mulder tossed her the pajamas from the top of her luggage and after quick changing in the bathroom, door open, who cared, she crawled under the covers, apologizing as she went, “I’m sorry. I just … I need to lay down.”

“It’s fine.” Continuing to eat at the small table, “I’ll clean this up when I’m done and go back to my room but I’d like to leave the door between us open, if that’s all right? If you need anything, you can just yell for me.”

She was already halfway to dreaming but pretty sure she mumbled ‘okay’, she stopped caring, her muscles relaxing, finally, horizontal so much better than vertical.

Good to his word, he ate, cleaned up, covered her better with her blankets, kissed her twice on the forehead, then disappeared next door, opening the door between their rooms enough to hear her but not enough to disturb with the light of the TV.

&&&&&&&&&&

Her clock read 11:52pm when she woke up. Groggy math concluded she’d been asleep for about five hours and rolling over, she saw the adjoining door open as promised, faint light fluttering from some late-night B-movie Sci-Fi flick no doubt. She tried to go back to sleep, but a restlessness had settled, her mind beginning to churn with thoughts she didn’t want and emotions she didn’t need. Another glance at the clock told her she’d killed six minutes.

God-dammit.

Standing, she shuffled her way over to the adjoining door, pulling her side open more, then slowly pushing his, standing for a moment, watching him read the book propped on his vee’d knees. Leaning on the frame, bringing back a rush of memories from their first night together, years ago, running request submitted and denied in the middle of the Oregon wilderness, she cleared her throat, causing him to turn in her direction but not startle, which she would question at another time. Once he’d focused in on her in the darkness, she asked quietly, “want to go for a drive?”

He was having the same flashbacks and tilting his head at her, “you okay?”

“Can we just … I want to get out of here for awhile … ignore my brain …” head now against the frame, “I woke up and now … … … yeah.”

Tossing his book to one side, he stood, grabbing his wallet and keys, “let’s go.”

She loved that he didn’t ask anything, didn’t inquire, didn’t turn loose his psychology degree on her midnight suggestions, but instead, reached for her back and held the door.

“Any destination in mind?”

Settling into the passenger seat, shoes off, feet tucked under her, crisscross style, “anywhere but here.”

“Midnight wandering. Excellent.”

They drove in their typical silence, comfortable, comforting, depending on Scully’s frame of mind, for almost ten minutes before Mulder reached over, tapping her thigh, “how’s your head?”

“Attached.” Eyeing his hand, now dangling over the console, fingers still easily within tapping range, “nose is stuffy but the taste in the back of my throat is gone, so that’s something.”

Finger against her again, this time fingernail catching on the fuzzies of her flannel pants, “you scared me. A lot.”

Left hand shifting so she could stoke his knuckles, weaving in and around them in soft, satin fashion, “I’m sorry. I was doing fine. I felt fine until it just … happened.”

Hand finally moved enough to squeeze her knee, both shocked at his action and both wanting him to stay, “just … don’t do it again, okay?” Now he slid his hand over to wedge in at the bend behind her knee, “fingers are cold.”

They were most definitely not cold.

Another five in quiet, Mulder shifting to get more comfortable, left hand lightly on the wheel, right hand firmly on her and she returned to his knuckles, ventured to that little round nubbin’ bone in his wrist at times, until, “what will I have to do while I’m your slave? Are you going to make me clean your bathroom and feed your fish? Or will it be more of a Princess Leia thing? Gold bikini, ball and chain, looking hot in the corner when your friends come over?”

How he didn’t crash, he would never know, “do you own a gold bikini?”

“Like I’m going to answer that.”

Genuine grin out the windshield, “I think it’ll be more that I’ll make you watch movies with me and go play miniature golf and maybe, just maybe, I’ll force you to go to dinner with me.”

“Oh, the perils of slavedom in Mulderworld.” Resting her head back against the seat, “huh. Did you realize,” reaching her hand to the ceiling, pushing a panel back, “that we have a moonroof.”

Quick glance up, “I did not. I wonder if I paid extra for that.”

“The Bureau may have and I’m okay with that.” Studying the sky above, “I’m thinking that we should find a nice, quiet sideroad and turn the car off and open this up and see what there is to see.”

Giving her leg another squeeze, “I believe when I was sixteen, that was the line I used to get to second base.”

“I’ve always enjoyed baseball.”

He looked at her, face turned up still, smile faint but there, “how can you still shock me after all this time?”

“I’m amazing.”

Finding the sideroad and turning, “I’ve known that since the beginning.”

Her smile grew wider as he turned off the car, “you were weird at the beginning but intriguing enough to keep around.” Finally looking at him, “and I guess I’d use the word amazing … at times.”

Restarting the car just to get the roof open, he turned it off again, the sounds of night filling the car, “I’d like to talk about baseball again.”

Now she laughed, putting her seat back, “talk to me about the stars.”

Hating to do it, he removed his hand from her and matched her tilt back, scooting a little to the right so his head was near hanging off the rest, pretense of seeing out the roof better and all. She did the same and soon their forehead were almost touching, shoulders were. His hand missed her so it went searching again, this time finding her upper thigh, resting lightly, not allowing gravity to work in his favor, to pull him closer to third-base territory, “what do you want to hear about them?”

“Everything. Nothing. I just like to hear you talk, especially in the dark.”

Wondering if confessions were the name of the game tonight, “Sam once told me that she made a wish on every star, not just the shooting ones.”

“That’s an awful lot of wishes for an 8-year-old.”

“She had a lot of time on her hands apparently.”

Turning her head so she could kiss his nose, she returned to her side of the car quickly, “I wish I had that kind of time. I don’t think we’ve stopped long enough to have an actual conversation in months.”

Finally connecting his forehead to hers, “is that why we’re out here talking about stars?”

“Possibly.” Silence reigned again until Scully’s hand shot up, “shooting star!”

“Make your wish.”

Once she’d squinched her eyes shut, made her plea to the starry gods, she said, absently, into the shadows, “I know it won’t come true but I don’t think it hurts to ask.”

Twisting to his right side to face her, switching hands on her leg, quiet cursing that the console separating them dared to exist, “it never hurts to ask. I’ve been screaming the same wish for months. Someone’s bound to answer me, if for nothing else, just to shut me up.”

If she looked at him, in this instant, in this universe, she would fall apart, cracked pieces in his hands with no hope of re-assembly. Keeping her eyes on the sky, “my favorite constellation is the Southern Cross. You can only see in in the southern hemisphere but one day, I’m going to go to Australia and I’m going to sit there, on a beach, all night long, just to stare at it.”

“Whirlwind world tour?”

“I’d like that. I’ve got six other continents to see. Might have to start as soon as I can.”

“If I offer to provide breakfast and lunch, can I come?”

He watched her nod and smile in the starlight, “I never thought you wouldn’t.” Catching his gaze at her out the corner of her eye, “you’re not looking at the stars anymore, Mr. Mulder.”

“I’ve got a better view down here on Earth, Miss Scully.”

Shaking her head, “the things you say sometimes.”

“Hey, I’ve slept in your bed. I’m allowed to call you ‘pretty’.”

Shifting to face him instead of the stars, she wondered if she dare share how much those nights still sat in the forefront of her mind, first before her diagnosis and second after he’d driven her home, taken care of her as she was sick, kept her warm as she came off her first round of chemo, “twice, actually, I’ve let you sleep in my bed.”

Moving his hand from her leg to run along her hairline, brief stop to rest his palm over her neck, “I think, someday, we should do that again, have a sleepover of epic proportions: scary movies, ice cream, pizza, and pillow fights. What do you say?”

Instead of the smile he’d been hoping for, he watched her face tighten, forehead wrinkle, nose flare, then contort back to normal Scully, just as her eyes filled with tears, which began falling immediately, “I’m scared.”

Sliding himself forward, hand still on her, he tugged gently at her neck until she moved towards him, “come here.” Meeting her lips for a brief moment, he went back in for another before resting forehead against hers, “I’m scared enough for both of us so maybe we should take turns. I’ll be scared Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and you can do Tuesday and Thursday.”

Wanting another kiss, she remained still, “what about the weekends?”

“We can share those. We’ll stay at your place one weekend then at mine the next. We’ll deal with it together. How’s that sound?”

Still crying, she almost laughed at the depth of the burden of solitude she didn’t know she carried until Mulder offered to carry it with her. Desperation nearly moved her to his mouth again but fighting it, she let out a wet, crackling sob before sighing, “thank you.”

“You’re not alone, I promise.”

Another shuddering breath out, she forced herself to back up, return to her own space, but found she couldn’t get far, Mulder’s hand still firmly on her neck, “Mulder.”

“I think we should talk about baseball again.”

Shutting her eyes against his searching look, she ignored the sudden tingling up her spine, “my head’s a mess right now. I don’t think I could separate ‘baseball’ from fear and I don’t want to ruin … it can’t be done like this. I’m sorry.”

She felt him pull away, then kiss her forehead lightly, talking into her skin, “you’ve got a dirty mind. I just wanted to discuss this year’s lineup for the Sox.”

Finally, she did laugh, gently bumping into his head with hers, “I’m more of a Cubs fan myself but talk away.”

“The Cubs? Really? What the hell is wrong with you?”

As they both separated, settled back into their own seats, Mulder’s hand back on her leg, “to be fair, that’s the first team I thought of.”

“Thank God. I thought I was going to have to rescind everything I just promised you. Although now, our Sunday fear sharing is going to be filled with baseball games, both live and from my couch.”

“I’d like that.” Silence between them filled with crickets chirping and frogs croaking, Scully reached down her leg to find his hand, lacing fingers together, pulling his knuckles to her mouth to kiss them, one by one, before, “I’d like that a lot and by the way, pretty sure you already rounded first.”

“Ahh, yes,” grinning upwards, “yes, I did.”

“Mulder.”

Her voice pulled him back from his amusement, “yeah?”

“I’m finally tired.”

With a chuckle, he looked over at her, “ready to go back?”

“No, but we probably should or we just sleep out here tonight and pray we don’t get eaten by bears or overzealous hunters.”

Mulder snapped his seat back up, “home it is.” It took twice as long to find the hotel because Mulder hadn’t paid attention as he was driving but eventually, they found their home away from home. Both were sleepy at this point and once inside Mulder’s room, Scully headed, heavy-lidded, to the adjoining door but stopped when Mulder spoke, “thanks for asking me to go for a drive.”

“Thanks for driving me.” Knuckling a knock on the door frame where she’d been leaning a few hours earlier, “it’s Friday now, right?”

“Yeah. My day to worry. Now go to bed before you fall down.”

With a nod and a smile, she disappeared into the darkness.

#cancer arc #msr #MulderNScully #My writing #our moment series #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #txf fanfic #rounding first

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jasontoddiefor · 3 years

Text

Chapter 7 of As Lightning to the Children eased or as I like to call it: Dooku gets his shit together.

Dooku didn't know how, but Shmi Skywalker had known that something had happened to her child before the call of the Council had even reached them. She had looked up in the middle of her katas, paling rapidly. Dooku had heard of Masters sensing their Padawans' distress before, had experienced such with his own reckless students, but never with such intensity and days' travel in hyperspace away from his children. Still, Shmi continued with her tasks with the same dedication as before her foreboding and did not panic when they got the actual notification two weeks later, telling them that Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Qui-Gon Jinn were already back on Coruscant, apparently all in a miserable condition.

Padawan Skywalker the elder's stance on the whole situation caused Dooku to reconsider his rude behavior during their first meeting. She had known that something was terribly wrong, had felt it deep in her bones when no one else had, and yet she had endured, done her Master proud, and fulfilled their mission first. When they arrived back at the temple, a place Dooku had been away from for too long as he had forgotten the warmth of its embrace, she dutifully made her report to the Council, under the many concerned eyes of the assembled Masters. And only when she had finished her statement, answered all questions, she excused herself and left to visit her son.

If anyone still doubted her place in their order after these actions, Dooku wouldn't hesitate to challenge them himself for her honor, though given her quick wit and skill with the blade, she'd hardly need anyone to fight her battles.

Shmi didn't ask him if he wanted to come with her, but she also didn't stop him when he fell into step with her. She smiled at him, kindly as if she were his Crèchemaster, ready to console him, and not a Padawan as they silently walked to the halls of healing.

Dooku hadn't been there when the Skywalkers had joined the temple, but he had heard of the impossible terror that was Shmi's child.

Yet, somehow, all those rumors couldn't compare to meeting him in person. He looked innocent and human enough, sleeping in his Master's arms, a small togruta child stretched across the both of them. Then, suddenly, he woke and within the blink of an eye, Dooku found himself pinned against a wall, electric blue eyes focused on him with previously unknown intensity.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan was awake a second later, holding down his student's arm as if that could lessen the pressure on Dooku's chest. "Anakin, stop it, we're home, it's alright."

Disorientated, the child blinked at Dooku, curiosity and confusion entering his gaze as if he were seeing Dooku for the first time. Then whatever might have kept him in a chokehold, stopped and the boy fell back into his Master's arms.

"Obi-Wan?" Anakin sounded puzzled when he spoke up. His voice was rough as if he hadn't spoken in days.

"Hello, Anakin." Though Dooku knew that his grandpadawan was hardly older than twenty-five, the exhaustion wearing him down made him look decades older. "Are you awake now?"

Anakin tilted his head. "Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

A shadow passed over Obi-Wan's face. "No reason. Do you know who is visiting us?"

More hastily than before, Anakin's head whipped around and turned into the direction Shmi was standing in. "Mom!" he exclaimed and, after carefully pushing the third child off his lap, he jumped out of bed to rush to his mother. He hugged her tightly, burying his face in her robes. "Mom, I missed you."

Shmi Skywalker, showing no sign of fear, worry, confusion or anything such as that about her son's earlier actions, only embraced him just as tightly.

"I missed you too, Anakin," Shmi said and kissed the top of his head.

Anakin didn't let go of her, but his eyes drifted to the lightsaber clipped to her belt. Without another word, Shmi took it from the belt and handed Anakin the blade. Anakin examined it closely, ran his fingers across the metal hilt before handing it back to his mother. "Your crystals sound nice. I like them."

"I'm glad."

As mother and son continued talking, Dooku managed to get to his feet, still shaken by the assault the others pointedly ignored. He crossed the distance to the bed Obi-Wan and the now yawning youngling were lying on and sat down on it. He disliked showing such weakness, but he couldn't exclude the possibility that his legs might not hold him upright should he continue to stand.

"What was that?" he asked.

Obi-Wan sighed and the youngling whose presence Dooku could not quite explain sat up and gently patted his cheeks, making the young man smile.

"It's a reflex, mostly," Obi-Wan explained. "Anakin isn't quite over what happened yet and lashes out when he thinks we are threatened by something or someone he doesn't recognize."

Obi-Wan's elaboration failed to clear anything up and if the boy didn't look like he hadn't slept in a week, Dooku would claim he was purposefully misdirecting. "We are in the Jedi temple. What is there here that he fears?"

What had Dooku done that Anakin assumed his own lineage would attack him?

The look Obi-Wan was giving him was downright chilling, damning, before it slowly turned into incredulity. "I thought that was why Shmi— You don't sense it, do you?"

He sounded flabbergasted.

"No," Dooku said. "What is there to sense?"

Discomfort and wariness settled in the air, so heavy that Dooku was reminded of the invisible hands around his neck.

"The taint, the poison, the rot clinging to your light," Obi-Wan said slowly. "The darkness."

It sounded like judgement.

The first thing Qui-Gon recognized was noise.

It was loud around him, familiar voices speaking out. When he tried to open his eyes, he found the task impossibly challenging. He fought against the voice telling him to rest a little longer, that he didn't have to wake quite yet, but Qui-Gon had always been a stubborn one, unwilling to follow orders he deemed unnecessary.

"Master!"

When light began to fill his vision, Qui-Gon looked into the face of his worried Padawan, missing his braid and looking as distraught as Qui-Gon had seldom seen him before.

"Obi-Wan?" he tried to say, but his voice wasn't cooperating, so whatever left his mouth, it couldn't have been his apprentice's name.

"It's me, Master, yes." Obi-Wan understood him anyway, clever and wise as he was. Qui-Gon had given his Padawan a much too difficult time when he had still been his student and not a Knight of his own regard. He could hardly imagine being any prouder of Obi-Wan than he already was

"Master Qui-Gon!"

His vision became clearer and allowed for him to see Anakin and Ahsoka sitting just beside him on the bed, Shmi behind them and there, right next to her—

"Master."

"Save your strength, Qui-Gon," his Master urged him. If Obi-Wan had looked distressed, Dooku appeared downright hysterical. Qui-Gon was quite ready to believe this was all a hallucination now. As far as he knew, his Master had sworn off returning to the temple for at least another decade and even if he were here, he certainly wouldn't seek out Qui-Gon, no matter how injured.

"Rest some more," the imitation of his Master said. For just the shortest of moments, Qui-Gon was reminded of the time he had been a youngling just a few months older than Anakin and Dooku, not even quite Obi-Wan's age then, had panicked over his sickness. It had only been a mild cold, not the blinding hot pain chaining him to the bed now, but Dooku had told him to rest then with just the same cadence and care.

"Everything will be better after you've slept."

The illusion said the same words as his Master had then and just for that alone, Qui-Gon was inclined to believe him, even if he couldn't sense him, sense any of them properly.

Qui-Gon didn't know how much time passed between the intervals he was actually closer to consciousness and those he was inaccessible to the world. It felt like centuries passed within the blink of an eye. Regardless, whenever he woke, Dooku was there, dutifully sitting at his side as if Qui-Gon were still a child. It was reassuring anyhow.

The morning Qui-Gon woke and didn't feel like he needed to drop right back to sleep, he was greeted by the image of Dooku reading while the children were playing some board games on the bed next to his.

Qui-Gon decided to observe them just a minute longer before he spoke up.

"Am I dreaming, Master?"

Dooku immediately dropped the datapad and the others stopped their game, Qui-Gon's voice breaking this strange atmosphere.

"Qui-Gon!" it came from all sides. "Are you alright?"

He felt half-blind as if he had lost a sense he had always taken for granted, but, staring into the guilt-ridden expression of Anakin, he realized that lying had never been easier. "Yes, of course. What did I miss?"

From the look his lineage was giving him, quite a lot.

Ahsoka was young, but she wasn't stupid.

"What happened?" she asked Obi-Wan. The real adults wouldn't tell her anything for sure, but Obi-Wan just might because he was Anakin's the same way she was Anakin's, and he was theirs, and that was all that mattered. "Anakin is different."

He was hurting, though he tried to hide it. His pain and his fear scared him, which in turn only upset Ahsoka. She wanted everyone to be happy and healthy, but the world had shifted when she hadn't been there and it hurt.

"I—" Obi-Wan hesitated, so Ahsoka crossed her arms in front of her chest like she had seen Shmi do when she wanted to know something and nobody was willing to tell her. It made Ahsoka feel taller and more grown-up. Obi-Wan would have to tell her the truth.

"I want to know," she repeated. "Now."

Obi-Wan studied her for a few moments longer, then he sighed. "Anakin did something very foolish and difficult and Qui-Gon did something just as stupid and now everything is a mess."

Ahsoka could tell that he was trying not to use big words with her, but it only felt like he was attempting to get away with saying less.

"What did they do?" Ahsoka asked. "I want to know."

The need was pulsating under her skin, edging her on, licking at her arms like hot flames, urging to demand and not stop until she had forced the truth from his mouth, the ugly thing that was closing his throat.

"Anakin saw something really, really bad and dark," Obi-Wan said. "So Qui-Gon helped him forget that."

"But isn't that good?"

Ahsoka thought it was. It should be. If Qui-Gon took away what had hurt Anakin, then Anakin was going to be better now. That was how helping others worked. The others always said so; Shmi did too. The more you helped, the more did the galaxy heal.

"Yes, technically speaking, but… You know how the Force gives us warnings?"

Yes, of course, she did. Everyone always said to listen to the Force for their knowledge, but the Force had never warned her before she had stubbed her toe, so she wasn't entirely sold on that yet.

"The memories Qui-Gon hid from Anakin were such a warning, so now we don't know what the Force was warning us from and since they are so well hidden to protect him, Anakin won't be able to recognize the danger again when he sees it."

Oh. That really did sound bad. "Did he anything do something stupid then to get back the memories?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "No, Anakin decided to break the Force a little to keep Qui-Gon here longer."

Ahsoka wondered whether that was the reason Qui-Gon's wound was healing so slowly and no pain medication truly helped. He tried to hide it, but Ahsoka's nose and eyes were better than humans'. She saw him tense, could smell the sickness. Ahsoka bit her lip. "Is that why Qui-Gon's Force is all messed up?"

She didn't know how to describe it in a better way. It felt a little as if Qui-Gon was made up out of strings and someone had cut them and then tied the ropes back together clumsily in haste, leaving a net that could catch his soul, but was incredibly messy.

"A little. There's no telling what messing around with the Force like Anakin did."

(And they wouldn't know for a long while what it meant to force something to live. No matter how good the intentions at that moment, the residue of his actions left Maul awake, alive, alight in the dark side, and screaming.)

"Is he going to be okay again?" Ahsoka asked.

When Obi-Wan didn't reply immediately, she climbed back into his lap and let him wrap his arms around her. Jedi were the happiest when they weren't cold, and her family felt as if they needed a lot of warmth.

"I hope so," Obi-Wan replied. "I really do hope so."

For the first time since he had gotten his first gray hair, Qui-Gon actually felt old. He was tired all the time and his control over the Force was atrocious and depended on the time of day, what he had eaten for breakfast, the weather, and whether somewhere halfway across Coruscant somebody had totaled their Speeder, or so it felt to him at least. There was no rhyme or rhythm to whether he could use the Force at all and what his control over it was, not even as his body recovered.

His gut wound hadn't healed entirely yet, and he continued to be haunted by its phantom pains. He knew that it hurt Anakin, that he felt guilty, so Qui-Gon tried to avoid showing any of these weaknesses around the boy, but Anakin was an intelligent child and he noticed it anyway. Qui-Gon wondered if Anakin's sudden clinginess and paranoia resulted from his actions, actions he now had to justify himself for.

"Are you sure you wouldn't prefer to sit?" Plo asked.

Qui-Gon wanted to reply with words as sharp as the edge of a knife, but he shouldn't. Plo was asking him out of worry and because they were friends, not to belittle him or point out his discomfort to him.

"I'm quite sick of sitting and lying down," Qui-Gon confessed. It hurt to admit this weakness, was he fully his Master's Padawan in this aspect, and against what his heart was telling him, he forced himself to say it out loud. "But a chair would be appreciated."

They got a chair for him and so Qui-Gon sat in front of the assembled Council, laying his mind bare for them to see and judge.

"Obi-Wan's report states that Padawan Skywalker had a breakdown as you boarded the ship to Naboo again. Is this correct?"

"Yes."

"And following this breakdown, you put a heavy mind block on him. Is this true as well?"

"Yes," Qui-Go replied, or maybe it would be more correct to claim he apologized.

He didn't regret saving Anakin then. It had come at a high price, his own mind still bleeding where he had cut himself on the kyber crystals of Anakin's soul, but he regretted that it had come to this at all. Trifling with a mind like this was nothing that could be taken lightly, and had the Council not asked to see him, Qui-Gon would have accused them of negligence. "I saw no other choice."

"What did you saw in his mind that forced you to act like this?" Mace asked.

"I saw a reflection of his own state of being, I suppose." His words sounded stuporous, too carelessly chosen, but he didn't know how else to describe this feeling. The more he attempted to elaborate on what he had seen, the more he realized that their language lacked the terms he needed

"I don't think the Force was meant to be anything more than something that binds the world together," Qui-Gon declared. "But Anakin… His existence defies that. He is the Force incarnate and it hurts him, subconsciously. The Force is endless and in Anakin, they have to constrain themself to a body with mortal limits, a fact which unsettles him down to his core when he becomes aware of it. From my observations, which I fail to describe accurately here and I fear to share with the state of my own mind and control, merely having consciousness is unsuitable for a being such as Anakin. We have all heard the voice of the Force, its call and its will, but it doesn't want as we do, as mortals might."

"But Anakin does," Plo continued his thought. "So you have the Force turned sentient, which goes against everything they ever were before, and suddenly they have to deal with the fact that Anakin has wants and needs that go beyond that of his parent."

"Yes," Qui-Gon agreed. "I think – or at least the way Anakin perceived it – the Force is shackling themself with his existence, in his existence. He became aware of it through a factor I have not yet determined, and that resulted in his breakdown."

"And so you decided to cover up these shackles."

"I did."

It was the only way he could have stopped Anakin from self-destructing.

The Force had shifted for the third time in less than a decade after so many years of slowly eroding away.

It was strange. Where once it was clouded, twisted, and shadowed as his Master and his Master's Master had crafted it, there was a rift now, a clearing.

It was shedding light on objects that should not be seen.

Darth Sidious pulled the shadows closer around himself and, throwing one last glance at his Master's dead body, decided to investigate.

He had need for an apprentice.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #shmi skywalker #count dooku #fanfic

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olivinesea · 3 years

Text

A Mixed Blessing

Chapter List

chapter six: are we fixed or free?

a/n: Sorry for the extended wait, that road trip really did me in. Here’s the next bit. Getting deeper into Aaron & Cole’s dynamic. Again, I’m so sorry? Warning for substances & abuse, as ever. ~4.5k

The summer arrived quickly for Aaron who now had a new secret he didn’t understand. He was uncertain what to make of the events of that afternoon. There was no blueprint for him to follow here. The only intimacy he’d observed with was in the context of his parents’ relationship and that didn’t seem like the best example. The only mentions he’d ever heard of two men being together were lessons about eternal damnation. It made sense that he would belong to such a path. He was already lost in so many ways, he doubted this, or anything, could make it worse. But it still puzzled him, unsure what his feelings were, what they should be.

He reviewed his memories of that afternoon repeatedly, examining the dimensions of the place where his life had taken this unexpected turn. He’d had no way to anticipate any of it but still he tried to gather clues, combing the moments surrounding that first kiss for signs of what would come next. He remembered the way their desperate collision had only broken apart when Cole pressed too hard on his ribs and he had involuntarily cried out in pain. The way Cole had scrambled back, standing up and watching Aaron from a safe distance while the color drained from their flushed cheeks, a mindless passion replaced by apprehension. The way Cole had run his hands through his hair repeatedly, the nervous habit making the blond strands stand on end. Aaron couldn’t remember another time he’d looked so uneasy, before or since.

Aaron had considered him through his dazed high, the drugs mixing with the unexpected surge of hormones to overtake any coherent thought. He had been confused but it was a warm sort of confusion, still feeling the echo of Cole’s hands, his lips, racing across his skin. He’d tried to understand the emotion he was seeing on Cole’s face. He was always trying to understand the minute changes there, searching for a hint at the other boy’s motivations that he kept locked away.

“You’re not stupid are you?”

Aaron frowned, not able to follow this thought. He’d become distracted by the pain in his side, his ribs reminding him of the insult they had endured. He’d lifted his shirt to poke at them gingerly, as if this would make any difference at all.

“Hey!” Cole was impatient.

Aaron’s attention snapped back, wary of the irritation but not sure how to fix it. He wanted to ask what was wrong but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate, his thoughts barely a trickle. He was only live nerve endings and a creeping nausea as the painkillers left his system.

Cole stared at him hard, trying to make him understand without spelling it out. When he didn’t see any sign of recognition he sighed in disgust. “This,” he waved his hand. “All of this. You’re not going to say anything, right?”

Surprised, Aaron shook his head slightly. He didn’t have anyone to tell even if he was foolish enough to want to. He used the tree trunk to help pull himself up so he was standing, doing his best to meet Cole’s gaze. “I—“ he began but his thoughts wouldn’t move in a straight line. It had felt so much like a dream. He could hardly believe it was real if it wasn’t for the blood and grit in his mouth.

Cole watched him, not offering to help as he swayed, finding his balance. He kept one hand on the tree, its solidness soothing. This point of connection to the world was the only thing keeping him in place. Overwhelmed by the whiplash of attentions, anger and affection and desire melting into an unrecognizable mess, he felt like one wrong move could send his cells spiraling out, forming new constellations he’d never return from.

“I won’t tell,” he managed.

Cole nodded, satisfied for now. “You should go home, you look like shit.”

Aaron was having a hard time keeping up. “Home?”

“Damn, are you really that high?”

Aaron wanted to laugh but his throat was too dry. He coughed instead. He still felt Cole’s fingers wrapped behind his neck, was still captivated by the smell his skin, smoke and something sweet, like decay.

“I’ll walk with you but you’ve gotta stand on your own. It’s way too early for me to be carrying you around.”

Aaron followed, a few steps behind, annoyed at the suggestion he’d ever needed to be carried. He watched Cole’s back, following the pattern of his footsteps, retracing their way to his backyard.

Cole looked at him doubtfully. “You better take a shower and clean up. Your parents are going to know something’s up.”

Aaron shrugged pulling a twig from his hair. “I doubt it.” What he meant was that he doubted they would care enough to notice.

“It’s your life I guess.”

They stood awkwardly for a moment, stiff and deliberately distant. Aaron opened his mouth to say something he would want to take back later.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Cole cut him off, turning away before he’d finished speaking. Aaron started up the back steps, his hand reaching the doorknob before he remembered something. He turned and called, “Hey Cole!”

The other boy paused, looking back with a blank expression, closed off and wary.

“Where’d my…”he stumbled on the words, embarrassed to have to ask. “Do you have my medication?”

Cole smiled, patronizing. “Oh I’ve got that, don’t worry. I don’t think it’s smart for you to have that around, do you? We don’t want you doing anything you’ll regret.”

Aaron blushed, mumbling a response about how it was his, how it was none of his business what he did with them but Cole was already walking away.

He had never consciously considered his affections before that day. Passing moments had caught his attention but he’d never stopped to think about who or how that would play out in the real world. He couldn’t help feeling like he had committed some offense. If the sermons or the sentiment of the town were to be believed he was making a terrible mistake, an evil choice. And yet it didn’t feel wrong. It felt like the most logical thing in the world.

He battled with himself about it. Telling himself to stop thinking about how good it had felt to be close to someone. That it would be better to forget and move on, pretend the moment hadn’t happened. It was only weakness, he argued against his softer self. A weakness to need validation that he was a creature worthy of that kind of attention. He knew plenty about weakness, knew better than to let it show.

So, despite his excitement, despite the fire that raced through his veins at the memory of that afternoon, he didn’t push for anything more to happen. He simply waited, hoping that time would resolve his uncertainties.

The next time he saw Cole, the older boy ignored him at first. Aaron hung back, watching, trying to get an idea of what he was expected to do. He sat on a tree stump, off to the side of the group, playing with the fraying cuffs of his shirt. It was getting too warm for the long sleeved shirts that he wore most of the year. He shifted uncomfortably as a bead of sweat slipped down between his shoulder blades. He wasn’t sure yet what he was going to do about that problem. He’d always been on his own in the summers, no one to notice the changing landscape of his skin, the dark blue-greys that faded into algae green, traveling up and down his arms, his legs, as the stars moved across the night sky, dependent upon the balance of forces beyond his control. Yet here he was, surrounded by people. They might not notice him, not pay attention to the quietly angry boy who had been absorbed into their group over the past year but he wasn’t sure he could stay so invisible with those kinds of secrets on display.

While he was lost in his thoughts, Cole appeared beside him, offering him a cigarette. He accepted, catching the flame of the lighter, gratefully pulling the smoke into his lungs. He let the sensation distract him from his nerves prickling at the nearness of the other boy. He darted his eyes to Cole, to see if he could read instructions in his expression. Cole’s eyes were fixed on the side of his face, the deep purple bruises he’d left there. No one had asked about these new bruises on his face, but when had anyone ever asked about such things before?

Aaron became uncomfortable with the attention, his knee bouncing rapidly. Cole reached over, touching the swelling on his jaw. Aaron did his best not to flinch, keeping his eyes steady on Cole’s face. He stayed still even as Cole pressed his fingertips harder against the darkened skin, his touch quickly becoming painful. He held his breath, willing himself not to react. The expression in Cole’s eyes was distant, seeing something other than Aaron’s fearful acceptance. The pain became too much and Aaron shifted away slightly, unable to tolerate it any longer. Cole dropped his hand, seeming to snap out of the trance he’d fallen into. Aaron avoided his eyes, looking away and taking a drag on his cigarette.

They didn’t discuss it.

Nothing seemed to change after that, neither of them daring to vocalize their thoughts, so the moment passed and faded. Instead, they fell back into their routine. Somehow Aaron’s pills had become “their” pills and they disappeared quickly. He found that he didn’t care, he was too focused on understanding his newly complicated feelings. He hovered close to Cole, hoping that the nearness might act as a magnet, drawing them back together again. He was afraid to ask for it, afraid of what it meant to want something like that. But maybe if he could just manufacture the right conditions, he thought, maybe then. He still wasn’t sure if he really wanted Cole or if he just wanted to be touched but he was certain the only way to find out would be to try it again.

A couple weeks later they were drunk, stumbling home, laughing at something neither one would remember. As the entered the garage, Cole decided abruptly that he was making too much noise. He pressed his hand over Aaron’s mouth, hissing at him, half playful, half tense. They listened for the sound of footsteps, any indication that they had disturbed his grandmother. Aaron had only seen her once and she seemed nice enough but he could understand the instinct to stay hidden, to move through the world unnoticed. He fell silent and focused on the heat of Cole’s hand, the slight nicotine scent of his fingers held firmly against his lips.

Satisfied no one was coming, he released his grip. When he looked at Aaron, saw the mix of anticipation and desire in his eyes, he stepped back. He wiped his hand roughly against his thigh, as if there were some particularly unpleasant residue imparted. As Aaron struggled to mask his disappointment, Cole’s expression darkened.

“Go home Aaron,” he said roughly.

“What? Why?” He was flustered, scrambling to understand what he had done wrong.

“Get out.” Cole turned away, stalking to his desk where he sat with his back to Aaron.

Aaron stared, wide-eyed, too tipsy to grasp what was going on. “But I thought—“

The words were out of his mouth before he thought better of it. He knew by now not to argue with Cole, knew that pushing against that finality in his voice never got him anywhere. Still, he had let himself hope and he wasn’t ready to let the moment pass.

In an instant Cole was back, standing right in front of him, so close that Aaron lost all his words.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he growled. Something clicked and Aaron placed the emotion he’d been seeing bursts of, slipping into Cole’s words, his actions. He was afraid. Aaron smiled at the realization, just the corner of his mouth twitching up.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Cole tried to push him away, both hands against his chest, but Aaron grabbed him, almost laughing now. Fear was simple, he knew fear. Fear could be overcome if they just kept moving. He couldn’t count all the times he’d been afraid but here he was, still breathing, still wanting something from the world. He pulled Cole closer until their foreheads touched.

“Don’t be stupid,” Cole breathed.

“Too late,” Aaron answered, alcohol obliterating any lingering reservations. Nothing else mattered here. His only thought was that he needed this, to see if it would feel the same as before. That feeling he was forever chasing, where every thought disappeared from his mind and he became only impulse and reaction.

He found what he was looking for.

It continued haltingly, never sober, never around other people. Half the time it was followed by icy silences, Cole avoiding Aaron for several days while he sorted out his emotions, searching for a way to rationalize their connection. It hurt his feelings but he could understand this reaction. What they were doing went against everything he’d ever been taught. Cole was caught up in a cycling belief that this behavior was a defect, at best a sign of mental illness, at worst an irrefutable testament to his inferiority. Aaron couldn’t blame him for these thoughts, it was what everyone else believed as well.

It was different for Aaron. His sexuality was not as much of an issue to him. He had thought about it obsessively, trying to decide what it meant that he could want the touch of another man, that he could so easily disregard the taboo placed on such an act. His conclusion was that it didn’t matter, it couldn’t matter when there was so little that was good in his life. The idea that anyone would want to be close to him, would see him as anything other than worthless was too intoxicating to let go.

But he wasn’t completely ready to accept what they were doing either. Sometimes he even hated himself for it, but for different reasons. The thing that gave Aaron pause were the other parts of their relationship, the moments where Cole’s mood shifted, his anger flashed. Sometimes, if circumstances lined up against Aaron— if someone had made a comment to Cole that he didn’t like and he repeated to himself over and over, picking apart the ways they were not only wrong but intentionally stupid, to the point where Aaron rolled his eyes and told him to get over it already, they’d only been high after all; if they had run out of dope and the dealer wasn’t answering; if the wind was too cold or the sun was too bright, sometimes for no reason Aaron could see at all—Cole would snap and strike out at the nearest target. That target was more and more frequently Aaron.

That first time he’d been so shocked, so betrayed he thought it would be the end of him. But that hadn’t happened. Had instead lead to the breakdown of the barrier between them, a positive development in Aaron’s book. The second time he was just as surprised, although looking back maybe he shouldn’t have been. The apology was quick and profuse, Aaron accepted it through a stunned haze. After that, it became nothing more remarkable than any other pattern in his life. It made sense to him that care and pain would be so tied up. In fact, the idea that he could have the first without the second was unimaginable. But in the moments when it happened, the split second before the impact, when he knew it was coming and there was nowhere to run, the expression he saw on Cole’s face was too similar to the one he’d grown up fearing. In those moments he felt sick to his stomach, that he would put himself in this position, that he would seek out the company of a man just like his father. Shouldn’t he be smarter than that? He’d find himself knocked to the ground, his ears ringing as he curled himself into that familiar defensive shape, waiting out the storm so that he could have another chance at feeling the warmth of affection.

At the end of the day, what was one more bruise, really? At least these bruises were accompanied by concern. An awareness of his existence, the kind he’d never gotten at home. Cole noticed when he wasn’t around, noticed when he was slipping too far into his own head. He felt it could almost be considered a fair trade. The good moments at least balanced the bad, if not outweighing them outright. Plus, there were always the drugs to smooth over the rough patches if all else failed. He couldn’t feel a thing as he floated away on the high. Whatever mistakes he’d made over the week, however many times he’d been wrong or in the way, it all disappeared as he accepted the straw handed to him, kneeling over the smoke, as reverent as any penitent seeking absolution.

* In the summer they found themselves with unlimited time to spend together. No classes, no family to interrupt their search for the perfect high. There was no reason to be sober, so he never was, accepting anything that came his way without a second thought. It all melded together in a sleepy numbness, losing track of the days. Time only mattered if he was waiting on his next high, its irritating existence forgotten as soon as he sank back under. When he’d found himself locked out of his home, again (his mother’s new way of expressing her disapproval) he didn’t bother trying to beg her to let him in. He just walked away. He had other places to be now. Places where he could convince himself he was wanted.

Cole took the opportunity of the unstructured days to try something different. At first Aaron was confused when he saw him unwrap the new materials, light reflecting off solid metal rather than the now familiar bits and pieces they had been using to smoke. However, he quickly understood as Cole began to roll up his sleeves.

“You’re not serious.” As lost as he was, Aaron wasn’t sure this was a line he wanted to cross.

Cole barely lifted a shoulder to acknowledge he’d heard anything, too focused on examining his arm for a vein.

“Cole,” his voice tightened, eyes locked on the other boy’s movements. “I don’t know…”

“It’s going to work better,” Cole snapped, irritated that Aaron would question him. He’d thought it out, they were wasting money, his money, and worse, wasting their potential high. This was the obvious next step. “Here,” he tossed a belt at Aaron, “that should help you find one.”

Aaron didn’t move, frozen by conflicting impulses. He was having trouble understanding how he’d gotten here, still disbelieving he could sink so low despite the very real evidence in front of him. But beneath all the anxiety, there was a part of him whispering that Cole was right, that he absolutely wanted this. The prospect of a better high was enticing.

“Hurry up, or I’m doing this without you.”

Aaron chewed on his lip, watching the flame. Cole’s hands were steady, no trace of the tremor Aaron felt in his own. The soft hiss as the dark matter melted was all that he needed to push him to action. He was afraid but that had never mattered, he wasn’t going to miss this.

Occasionally, Aaron would surface from his fog, would wonder what Sean was doing, wonder if his mom was okay. He had no idea when he’d last seen them. As much as he resented her for how little she’d done to protect him, he couldn’t be completely unsympathetic when he knew too well what she was up against. If he ever had a passing thought about his father it was only to curse him and wish for his demise to come sooner than later.

Any semblance of a schedule had long since gone out the window. Every day that they could score was a good day to get high. Any day that they couldn’t was a bad day for Aaron. Cole had been right, the high was better with a direct application, but it also meant the lows were meaner. What before had been intermittent bouts of anger, flares of possessiveness when Aaron was out of sight for too long, became all consuming.

His world got smaller.

Aaron stopped going to the places where the rest of the group would hang out. He found it wasn’t worth it to find out what new infraction Cole would imagine, what the consequences might be for accepting a drink or a smoke from the wrong person. It was easier to just stay in the garage, or, if Cole’s mood was too volatile, too many days since their last score, he would wander by himself, back to his old hiding places. When he could think clearly enough he wondered if time was just a circle and he would always find himself back here, hiding from the hands of someone who was supposed to care for him.

Most of the time he didn’t think of anything at all.

* Cole’s birthday arrived in the height of summer, when the days were so long it was hard to believe night would ever fall and the heat so heavy that movement felt like treason. They’d had a stretch of good days, which Aaron tried not to think about too much. He believed that maybe if he didn’t acknowledge it, didn’t look directly at it, they might continue in this peace. He wasn’t aware that it was Cole’s birthday, only that whatever good mood had settled over them was thankfully continuing.

As they made their slow way back from the liquor store, hauling their supplies of beer and cigarettes and a bag of chips that no one would touch, Cole muttered something under his breath. Aaron, fumbling with a cigarette, finding it annoyingly difficult to coordinate the movements of walking and lighting the end, stopped to manage that and missed the exact words.

“Hmm?” he hummed, unconcerned. He’d woken up to gentle fingers combing his hair that morning and managed to avoid saying the wrong thing. On days like this he could almost imagine he led a normal life.

“It’s my birthday,” he sounded sullen, like he regretted bringing it up in the first place.

Aaron stopped trying to light his cigarette and looked at Cole, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around him. That would not go over well in the middle of the sidewalk. Instead he smiled, unreasonably pleased with this information.

“I guess we have to celebrate then,” he said, starting to walk again, just barely brushing his shoulder against the other boy. It was a little reckless—he could never be sure what kind of reaction he would get when initiating contact. It was usually smarter to let Cole come to him, like a dog with an uncertain temper. Cole drew back a little, but relaxed when Aaron didn’t linger. Instead he stepped to the side and scrupulously put a respectable distance between them.

“What do you want to do?” Aaron asked once he was sure he hadn’t crossed any of the wrong lines.

Cole shrugged, “What do we ever do?”

This unenthusiastic response put a slight damper on Aaron’s good mood but no matter. He knew they still had some of their stash leftover, they wouldn’t have to spend the day chasing a dealer. And he would never be disappointed by the prospect of getting high. “Whatever you’d like,” he said simply.

They spent the afternoon lazily drinking beers and smoking in a couple of ancient lawn chairs. Cole’s grandmother had taken a bus to Atlantic City for several days of gambling and inhaling stale cigarette smoke. Aaron liked things best when she went out of town. It almost felt like he and Cole were living together, like adults in their own house. He let his mind run with the fantasy as they sat sweating in the shade. He’d never considered what he might be like as an adult, never thought he’d make it that far. But this, this could be nice. A quiet companionship. Someone to pass him another drink when his ran out. Sure, there were negatives—a persistent risk that he’d say or do the wrong thing and find himself on the shadowed side of a fist but, as far as Aaron could tell, that was just part of life. It couldn’t always be good, but if he could have moments like this, it would be worth it.

Finally, endlessly, the sun set, making only the slightest difference in the temperature. They didn’t move as the color drained from the world around them. Tiny sparks lit up the air, first in ones and twos, until they were surrounded by flashes of life. Aaron tried to spot them all, making wishes like they were shooting stars. Every time it was the same wish: please, let this last.

“I guess it’s time for me to light my candle,” Cole said softly, equally mesmerized by the way the newly visible stars seemed to extend down to them, flickering around their heads. Aaron didn’t reply, just nodded, afraid he might somehow break the spell with his voice. Cole stood and offered him a hand up. He didn’t let go as they walked inside.

An expert now, Cole made short work of setting up their hits. The needle slid seamlessly into a vein, the rush of relief, of tension he hadn’t even realized he was holding melted away. They lay back on the bed side by side, just like the first time, motionless as the world spun away from them. Unlike the first time there was no confusion, no concern for what came next, only a feeling that his heart was so full it hurt. He twitched his fingers, trying to find Cole’s hand beside him. He managed to hook his fingers through Cole’s, his skin cool and dry. Eyes closed, Aaron tried to catch his breath, to catch the words that were vibrating through his bones with every pulse of his heart.

“I love you.”

His voice was so thin and he was so high he wasn’t entirely sure he’d said it out loud. Cole didn’t move, didn’t react at all, already deeply lost to the drug. Aaron knew it was better that way. The words felt strange, so foreign. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d said them, wasn’t sure he ever had. His consciousness filtered away, trailing the words behind him. He wouldn’t remember saying them in the morning.

chapter seven

#criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #tw substances #tw abuse #young hotch #a mixed blessing

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unnuevosoltransformalarealidad · 4 years

Text

Wide Awake

Title: Wide Awake Summary: Reader wakes up in the middle of the night in the needs of a company Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Prompt: Will you stay awake with me? Warnings: Injury (mention), fluff, flashbacks are in italics Word Count: 1756 This was written for the Buckysrighthandoll’s Writing Challenge of @buckysrighthanddoll A/N: This is way past date, but I had a few issues writing it, tbh, I never got the inspiration to write it. I hope everyone likes it. This is my first time writing for Bucky, so be nice. Flashbacks are in italics. Prompt is bolded and in italics.

The past few weeks have been tough for you. In your last mission, you injured your knee pretty bad, you had to get surgery to fix it. Luckily you didn’t, but the recovery time took you out of your comfort zone, you weren’t used to doing anything for a long time, you weren’t used to asking for help to do simpler things such as getting up from bed to more complicated things like taking you to your physical therapy. After almost 14 weeks since your injury and 2 weeks since you started to walk without the crutches, your physical therapist cleared you to start doing training sessions.

Today was the first full training session with Nat; she made sure to not push you too much because you were still healing and your walking wasn’t the best, you were still limping because it hurt. During the training, Nat commented on your relationship with Bucky, implying that something was going on between the two of you.

-What’s going on between you and Barnes? -We’re friends. Why? -Because… Well, haven’t you seen the way he treats you? -Uhm, the same way as everyone else? -you say slightly annoyed- Everyone is nice to me -Yeah, well… We all care about you and we were worried, but he seemed, I don't know... More worried than anyone else. -Whatever Nat, nothing is going on between Buck and me. We are just friends

Nat's comments left you thinking, yeah, he treated you differently, but your friendship with him was different, besides, he stayed with you from the beginning and your friendship grew closer. He took care of you the first week, to be sure you were as comfortable as possible. That memory made you smile always asking you if you needed anything.

-Y/N, doll, do you need anything? -No, Buck. I’m fine -Are you sure? -He asked you again for the millionth time. You had to roll your eyes before answering -Yes. -But, are you sure you don’t need anything else? -No Buck -You can tell me whatever you need, I’m here for you -I know Bucky. But I just want you to stay here with me. -Ok doll. I’ll stay here with you as long as you need me to -He said kissing my forehead.

He also joined you in your PT sessions, he wanted to be there for you. And, if you’re being honest, with him there, it helped you a lot. The recovery time was less than expected and mostly was because Bucky helped you not give up. The injury was serious, and the doctors didn’t know how long it was going to take you the recovery, they’d estimated at least six months, but at the third month you were ready to get back, but still, you had to gain strength and conditioning because you were out of shape. Even though Nat didn't push you, you did it. You wanted to come back, you needed to be back, and you focused on that.

The first time you tried to walk on your own without the crutches was your worst day. That day the doctors and PTs had told you that you needed to take it easy because if not your injury was going to be a lot worse and you were going to be out for at least a year in total.

-Y/N you can't push yourself to do something you are not ready for — your therapist told you -I can do it, I'm not pushing myself -Y/N, I know you are ready to get back. But not physically, your knee isn't fully healed, and you are not able to do three steps in a row without help. You may be ready mentally, but not physically. With that positivity, you will be walking on your own in the next few weeks, but you must take it easy. I know this is hard, I've been here in this same situation, but your body needs it. -you sigh -I need to be alone for a moment. Can you leave, please?

This was so frustrating. You were ready, but your body wasn't responding. After kicking out your therapist Bucky came to see you.

-Hey doll, your therapist told me you are having a bad day -Hi -you said upset -I'm trying to walk on my own but my leg is not cooperating -What can I do to help you? -Can you hold me for a little? -you didn't finish asking that Bucky was already hugging you. You were stressed, some tears fell and Bucky held you, comforting you. Something inside you was telling you that you were safe with him.

That memory brought a smile to your face. Even though you felt so frustrated, Bucky helped you to get through it. He was really worried when your injury happened. He made sure to let you know that you weren’t alone. He stayed with you from the very beginning, since you got out from the med bay, to your PT sessions, to now, helping you with the training. All these little things he did to help you bonded more the friendship you already had, but for the rest of the team it seemed to be something else.

After the training with Nat, he went to pick you up at the gym to be sure you didn’t overtrain. You were aware of what happens if you push too much you knee. He walked you to your bedroom that night, making sure you were fine.

-You’re going to be fine? -Buck asked you -Yes Buck, don’t worry -You sure don’t want me to stay with you? You know, just in case... -Yes, Bucky. I’m sure. I’ll lay down and ice it to prevent more swelling -I don’t mind staying -he insisted -Go to bed Buck. I’ll be fine, I promise — you said and kissed his cheek -Call me if you need anything -I will -Anything -I know. Good night Buck -Good night Y/N — He said and you closed your door.

As soon as you laid down, after taking a shower, your body relaxed instantly. It seemed to be everything all right, so you put on Netflix to catch up with your series. You were too focused on the show that you forgot to take the painkillers you were prescribed. Suddenly, a cramp on your hamstring appeared, it hurt but you were fine. You ignored it and then you felt a throbbing and pulsing pain across your leg, not only on your knee, a few tears fell, you were in so much pain that the tv was long forgotten.

-Miss Y/L/N — The AI called -Yes, Friday? -I’m sensing your heartbeat is accelerated, do you require medical assistance? -No, Friday. I’m fine. Thank you -You’re welcome Miss

You considered call Bucky to help you, but he was going to get mad at you for forgetting to take your medication. You decided that sleep for a little might help, so you stopped Netflix and went to sleep. You weren’t able to sleep, the pain was too strong, it was almost as painful as when you got injured. You tried to get up to grab the painkillers but your knee gave up and you fell to the floor. You couldn’t get up so you started to cry.

-Friday — you called the AI -Yes Miss -Would you please call Sargeant Barnes? -Right away, miss. Five minutes later, someone knocked on your door. -It’s open — you said -Doll? Is everything alright? — Buck asked you without realizing you were on the floor — Oh my god! Are you ok? — he approached you -Yes… No, my leg gave out and I fell — you said crying again -Hey, hey, it’s ok. I’ve got you — He lifted you from the floor and put you in bed again

He held you in there until you calmed down and stopped crying. You were safe in his arms

-Better? — He asked you -Yes, thank you. -What happened? -I got a cramp on my hamstring and then my knee started to hurt, so I decided to sleep for a little to see if that helped. Clearly, it didn’t. So I got up to take the painkillers but my leg gave out and I fell hitting my knee on the floor — A few tears started to fall again -Do you want me to take you to the med bay? — He asked worried -No. Will you stay awake with me? — you asked him -Anything for you — he said removing a strand of hair from your face — But first, I’ll bring you your medication

He went to your bathroom and came back with your water bottle and the painkillers. He gave it to you to take them while he prepared another ice pack to put it on, then he laid in bed with you. -Better? — he asked you again -Much better. Thank you — you said laying your head on his chest. He kissed your forehead -You know — he said — Nat mentioned something today that got me thinking -Seriously? — you said rolling your eyes -She said something to you? — he asked with curiosity. You sighed -She said that you were like this with me because I like you but I told her that we are just friends

It hurt you said those things to him, but it was the truth. You weren’t the type of girl that Bucky used to date. Silence. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t even move. So you moved a little from his embrace so you could look at him -You still with me? — He was looking at you with love, enamored. He was trying to tell you how much he loved you, but you said you were just friends. Bucky decided to try his luck and made a move He put his metal arm around your face, to caress your cheek and you melted. -Doll — he whisper -Yes Bucky, please — you begged and he kissed you The kiss was everything you’ve dreamt of. His soft lips engulfing yours. It was delicate, it was full of love, he was giving you his heart. A few stray tears felt across your cheeks -Is everything ok? — he asked you breaking the kiss and you nodded -I love you Bucky -I love you too Y/N — He said and kiss you again

Tag List (Let me know if you want to be part)

@mrspeacem1nusone @void-hoechlin @mrspeacem1nusone @thevelvetseries @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @buckysrighthanddoll

#buckysrighthanddoll100 #writing challenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction

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alchemist-shizun · 4 years

Text

This time

Based on this post by @lance-alt my inspirational hero 🧡

Read on Ao3!

Ts general taglist: @whizzie72 @sapphire-knight @burningpersonflapsuitcase @softanxiouspatton @royallyanxious @kim-argent-moon @lance-alt @suffering-is-my-comfort-zone @sometimeswritingsometimesdying @pushussmollworld @mylifeisadeceit @spooky-scary-virgil @angstyfanfiction @artissijam @logicalberry @pistachio-lan @roses-bubbles @princessnoodlebug @wolfie979 @gigitheimposter (tell me if you want to be added or removed)

Specific fic taglist: @bookwormscififan

Word Count: 1,455

Characters: Janus, Virgil, (Logan and Thomas mentioned)

Pairing(s): platonic Anxceit

Warning(s): Spoilers for SvS Redux, Self-destruction talk, illness/medical/hospital talk, allusions to crying, breathing difficulty (tell me if I missed anything)

Summary: There was a limit to everything, but Thomas hadn't yet realized that there was a limit to prioritizing others too. That's why Janus had to step in, but first there was someone else's consent he needed to get.

A/N: Hello how are you feeling I am destroyed in both good and bad ways. So, I put this little headcanon of mine where the sides get physically worse too as the state of Thomas's mind worsens. Other than that yes there are obviously spoilers and hope you enjoy, I don't know what I did I just let the words keep going out of my mind. That said, stan Janus. Have a good day!

✾

❝ It's all of the good that won't come out of us.

And how eventually our hands will just turn to dust

If we keep shaking them standing here on this frozen lake. ❞

Enough.

Enough was enough and Janus was sure none of them could take it any further.

He knew he'd been awake when he marched towards his door at almost four in the morning, the dark of the night hardly a villain against his memory of Thomas's apartment's furniture position.

There was no way he would have turned Janus down. Not in his state, anyway.

Deceit knocked on the door to Virgil's room and only heard a muffled, almost choked noise coming from it.

He ignored his heart sinking in his chest.

« It's me. I'm coming in. » he announced himself, not prepared but not surprised either by the scene laid before his eyes.

The room was a messier mess than usual, Virgil was contorted between his own blankets with the darkest shade of black under his eyes, starting to to expand in the shape of veins on his face, like tiny thunders had begun spreading across his cheeks.

It had been so dreadful ever since the choice in favour of the wedding had been made, seeing Thomas's mental health gradually decreasing every time the thought of the callback crossed his mind as well as the horrifying possibility of hurting his friends.

The dilemma replayed in his mind over and over again, unanswered questions rose and were shut down the moment they surfaced.

This is the right thing, he would think, I am being a good friend.

And yet it hurt so he would brush it off, increasing his dismay by the second.

Janus couldn't sit and watch any longer.

Not when they all were starting to break down. Not when … when that doleful sight of Virgil was displayed in front of him.

He swallowed the alarming feeling away and stepped closer until he was sitting on Virgil's bed, his hands folded in his lap.

One last furrowed glance to the rug on the ground before he finally spoke.

« I need your cooperation. »

« No- » Virgil's voice came out as a lament, strained and slurred.

« Please. » that was the first time in a long while that Janus had put his hand on his arm. « Do you believe I bare seeing you in these conditions? Seeing Thomas constantly fight with his subconscious with no resolution? » the need in his eyes prompted the other to listen.

Virgil fell quiet and Deceit saw his half lidded eyes barely able to stay open.

« If you want to hate me so much I'd prefer you do it in good shape rather than not being able to stand up. »

Virgil bit the inside of his mouth, partly because he kept himself from retorting something, partly because he had been wanting to cry for so long and it was getting too hard to keep it in, too impossible to fight down a urge he couldn't control.

« Listen. Next time I confront Thomas, don't show up. » Janus looked as the other's expression immediately changed.

Virgil surged up the best he could, eyes squinting and wary.

« What? »

« I need you to trust me, okay? » Janus put up his hands in front of his chest. « Just. Trust me. »

« Trust you? How. How do I not know- How can I be sure you're not going to twist their thoughts? How- »

« Thomas is destroying himself. » he shook his head in a slow motion. « You're one of the sides that should know this better than anyone else. We all see it, but we don't speak about it. We don't bring it up because changing the whole way of how you thought of your values is terrifying. »

« But the truth is we can't keep this self-destructive behaviour up until it disintegrates Thomas's health, both mental and physical. You don't take medicines only after a week of fighting with your high fever because you think you'd be able to bear feeling awful and now you're on the verge of going to the hospital. »

Virgil's stance got softer, more relaxed.

« The same way you shouldn't suppress your emotional pain until you break down and you're forced to take that metaphorical medicine for your mind, too. » Janus watched as his interlocutor finally nodded, Virgil knew deep in himself that everything with how Thomas was feeling was wrong.

Maybe … maybe he could allow letting Deceit …

« What I'm trying to get to is self-care is important as well and as much as it seems like the most obvious thing, we tend to brush it off for the sake of our reputation. Thomas doesn't understand it either and he needs to know he can't keep sacrificing his needs. »

« He's going to burn out. » Virgil's eyes were fixated on an unspecified spot, focused and filled with realization.

« Exactly. » Deceit nodded and Anxiety followed his reasoning.

« I … I don't know, I think I understand, but how are you going to tell him? I don't think he's going to listen with how strong his moral dilemmas are. »

« I talked to Logan. He's going to lend me a hand so I'm not alone in this and prove the integrity of my argument with stable facts. »

Janus stared into Virgil's eyes and still found uncertainty.

He turned his head away from him.

« I am going to twist their thoughts, Virgil, in one way or another this is going to affect their way of thinking eventually and I can't prevent it. It's not wrong, it's not evil or anything, it's a start. The entrance to the healing path. »

« It's not … it's not easy. »

« Oh, believe me, I know. » he let out a melancholy short laugh. « But this is the reason why I'm asking you to trust me. I know what I'm doing, Logan has my back too. If you don't trust me, trust him. I don't plan on ruining anything for you, okay? »

Virgil would have shot up if he weren't in the worst state he'd ever been, but his eyes still widened and his head turned to Janus in an instant.

Seeing that he got his attention, Deceit took the opportunity. « I don't want to step onto a podium and show that I'm better than everyone else here. I don't want to put any of you in a bad light. I just- I just want Thomas to be okay so that we can all stop tearing ourselves apart. And this is going to require me stepping in. »

Virgil's gaze fell down again and his bangs covered his eyes.

« I … Okay, I- »

« Virgil, one last thing. » Janus breathed in and focused on his glowing yellow gloves. « I don't want to change anything for you. I recognize you feel better with this new family you found and I don't want to take you from them. I don't want to prove I'm better in a “told you so” way so you can come back to us. » he took another breath and closed his eyes so the tears would stop forming. « I simply still care about you and it would shatter me more if things didn't work out with them either only because Thomas's mental state affected all of us. »

It was getting really hard to breathe for both of them.

Really hard.

Virgil wanted to respond, he wanted to let him know that he hated the fact that he was still mad at him but he couldn't prevent himself from feeling that way.

He wanted to say he still cared for him too but he hadn't yet realized and it still hurt too much.

« I just don't want you alone the way you are right now. » he murmured, then got up and paced towards the door.

He turned to give him one last glance and await his response.

Virgil was internally devastated and still didn't let others pierce through that.

« Okay. I'll be quiet, but you … please be patient with them. »

Janus nodded. « I will. I'll try to be as cautious as possible. » he turned and now the door was coming to a close.

« Take care of yourself, Virgil. »

There was a clicking sound and he was gone, with that old usual catchphrase he used to tell him.

Virgil fell back on his bed, unable to fight back the heavy breathing rising in his lungs.

One time. One time to trust the last person you'd trust on earth.

But this time he would let him.

This time, he'd let him save them all.

#purp's writings #ts spoilers #deceit sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #ts virgil #ts janus #ts deceit #platonic anxceit #sanders sides #fanfiction #ts fic #read the warnings #long post

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mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

Text

Say You’ll Stay- Chapter 1

Fury/ Band of Brothers Crossover Fic

Summary: Don "Wardaddy" Collier just wanted his crew to make it through the war. He carried no expectations for himself. But as each day passed, he worried he would be unable to keep his promise. When fate (or more accurately- Boyd Swan) places a woman in his path with a soft touch and softer heart...perhaps he has more of a motivation to see the end of the war after all.

Hey so I’m back with this series! I posted the first chapter awhile ago and then realized I did not have my plot and characters as “polished” as I wanted. So if you read the first chapter already, I would recommend rereading it.

The first chapter is shorter compared to the others so to make up for it, I will also be posting the next chapter! Two in one!

Our beloved Easy Company will come into play in a couple chapters. Patience, my friends. I have a plan...

Warnings: Swearing, some mentions of wounds/blood

Tag List: @happyveday @evelynshelby @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes @alwaysindecemberfeels

Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

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Sweat dripped down the back of his neck. Dirt and grime covered his skin and clothing. The sound of the Sherman's tracks rolling over the muddy ground encompassed them. Patches of ice and snow still lined the feeble road. He stared ahead blindly, trusting Gordo to get them to the camp safely. The looks on those around him mirrored his own feelings. Everyone was exhausted. Everyone wanted real food. Everyone was tired of watching allies killed by fucking Tigers.

Everyone was sick of this shit.

They approached the camp. The cesspool that it looked like from far away became even more evident the closer they got. Half-demolished buildings with a dusting of snow were the only standing structures left of what used to be a quaint little town. Soldiers in grubby gear, rifle over their shoulders, ran around. From far away the sounds of artillery fire echoed. Don wondered who was dying now.

"Boyd." He looked over at his gunner. "When we get parked, you go find an aid station. Get that hand looked at."

"Yes, sir." The gunner held his injured hand against his chest, wrapped in a makeshift bandage.

After getting directions from a lieutenant, they found the tank squad on the other side of the town. Seeing the three other tanks gave the staff sergeant some hope.

"Boyd, medic. Gordo, fill 'er up. Grady, check that suspension. I don't like the way it sounds. Norman, find us some ammunition and where the hot chow is." Don barked out orders as everyone jumped off the tank. Replies of "yes, sir" made him nod, silently proud of his crew, before stalking towards where he assumed HQ was.

Soon enough he found the building, soldiers scurrying in and out, making the place look like an overturned ant hill. The glass on the store-front was still intact surprisingly, but the door was busted down leaving a gaping hole to walk through. Sliding past a private who looked barely eighteen coming out, he entered the HQ to see a table set out in the middle with maps laid out, paper weights and bullets strewn about.

"Who you?"

The gravelly voice made him turn to his right, eyeing up the man sitting on a wingback chair. "Staff Sergeant Don Collier, commander of Fury, 66th Armored Regiment, 2nd Armored Division."

The man exhaled, smoke slipping between his thin lips, cigarette hanging precariously. "Ah, Wardaddy, eh? Right, come on." He stood up and waved Don over to the table. "Captain Evans. What's your status?"

Don eyed the man, he seemed far too relaxed for being in a war zone. Then again, his greying hair and beard and those sharp eyes made him briefly wonder if this Captain Evans had been in the Great War. Maybe this was easier compared to trenches? Either way, it was nice to see someone in charge for once that looked like they were actually old enough to shave. Fuck knew too many kids were running around with rifles now, having just gotten out of bootcamp. Don wanted nothing to do with them.

"We secured the town here," he pointed at the map, "left 86th Infantry to hold. Then my guys and two other tanks were sent here."

Captain Evans stared at the maps, mind clearly seeing how best to utilize them. "You and two tanks, eh?"

"Yeah. Ran into a tiger though. Now it's just my guys."

His bushy eyebrows shot up, even those around the table quieted down with the news. "Just you?" At Don's nod, the Captain tapped his fist on the table. "Damn those tigers. Alright, good to have you here, Don. We're waiting on some intel before sending you out. You and your guys get some chow and rest. Come back and see me in the morning."

"Yes, sir." Don nodded and walked out of the building, relieved they were not being sent out right away.

As he walked down the filthy, cobbled street, he could feel the shakes beginning in his hands. Quickly, he stepped onto a side street, hoping no one would notice him. Leaning back against the brick wall of the building, he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets before anyone could see them shaking. Memories of the fight from yesterday replayed in his mind without permission. The tiger easily destroyed the rest of his platoon. In a matter of minutes, him and his crew were alone. Ten men. They had lost ten men. Good men...well mostly good. There was that one asshole in Edward's squad no one would miss.

War took the best and worst; death it’s equally possessive lover.

Hands slightly fumbling, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The lighter took a few clicks before catching. With the inhale, the nicotine and smoke settled in his lungs beautifully. He closed his eyes, letting the cigarette help calm his nerves and try to erase the memories of his platoon. They were dead now. It did no good to dwell on it.

After several minutes his hands finally stilled. Running a hand through his hair, he pushed off the building and headed out to find his crew. He glanced around wondering the likelihood of finding a roof and real beds for his guys tonight. They deserved it. Especially after all this shit. His own back cried out for a reprieve from sleeping on the hard ground.

Yeah, he would figure out something. Even if he had to toss some goddamn young Privates out into the stained snow.

*****

"Nurse Cooper! You can handle this!"

She pushed the flyaway strands of auburn hair out of her face as she walked past the injured, following the voice of Doctor Erickson. The cries, screams and whimpers of the injured and dying no longer affected her. Or at least that was what she told herself. At least this field hospital had separate areas based on severity and a roof over the top.

She had worked in far worse conditions before.

She nodded to the tall, blond doctor who barely gave her a passing glance as he shoved past her, away from injuries he deemed lesser than what he should be focusing his attention on.

A man sat on the edge of a cot, cradling his hand in his lap, which was wrapped up like a mummy. He was not screaming or swearing, so she took that as a good sign. His eyes were closed, lips moving silently like he was praying, a thick mustache twitching with every movement. He looked like he could only be a couple years older than her own twenty-three years.

"What's your name, soldier?" She stood in front of him, wiping her hands on the stained apron she wore over her equally stained dress. Once they had both been white; now, the apron and dress were a patchwork of stains from blood, dirt and other questionable fluids she chose not to think of.

He looked up, his brown eyes meeting her blue in surprise. "Boyd Swan, ma'am. Those in my crew call me Bible though. "

"Well, Boyd, mind if I take a look at your hand?" She perched on a stool as he offered up his hand. Quickly, she unwrapped it to see the damage with a gentle but methodical touch. A long laceration bled across the palm and past the wrist, thankfully not deep. Honestly, looking it over, it was kind of a miracle it was not worse.

"Well, you're lucky, Boyd. Any deeper and you might have lost use of your hand. You might have some nerve damage; I do not think immobility is a concern at this point. I think we can get away without stitches if you can promise me you'll keep your hand bandaged and try not to use it."

"It's not luck, He's looking out for me and my crew." He pointed a finger on his other hand skyward.

"Yes, He certainly was. Let me grab some new bandages." She grabbed some cleaning solution and bandages for the man. The sooner she finished with him, the less likely there would be concern for infection. If she guessed, it would appear the injury happened at the earliest maybe yesterday. More than enough time for it to become infected. Though her training had taught her to ask and determine when the injury occurred, lately she found herself hating that question. It always led into a story and hearing even more of the horrors these men faced. Her mind had enough memories of blood and guts to fuel nightmares for a hundred years. If she could refrain from hearing others’ memories, she found herself choosing too.

The other reason she wanted to finish with him soon was to open up the bed he currently sat on, in case a worse injury came in. Luckily there had not been a large-scale fight in a week so they only had trickles of men coming in instead of waves of dying men.

"You a religious woman?"

She looked up from cleaning his hand to meet his earnest eyes. "I guess. I don't pray like I used to."

He hummed. "I can respect that. I suspect you've seen plenty of death."

Not wanting to remember all the faces of young men she had slaved over, only for them to die under her care, she changed the subject. "Why do they call you Bible?"

"I'm always reading the Bible... I reckon that's where it started. I stopped trying to convert those heathens in my tank. I pray for their souls though. Always will." His voice trailed off quietly, but the fondness in it was unmistakable.

"You're a good man, Boyd."

He nervously chuckled, looking away for a moment with the sound of his foot tapping repeatedly on the ground. "No, I'm just doing the Lord's work. That's all."

"Well, I'm done." Smiling at him, she pushed back slightly. It was nice to have a patient not screaming at her or leering. There were too many of those men as of late. "Do you know your orders yet?"

"No, ma'am. We just rolled in an hour ago."

"Alright, if you're still here tomorrow I'd like to take a look at your hand again in the morning."

"I can do that."

"Good. Go rest up now, find some food. You earned it." She stood up, holding the soiled cloths, ready to move on to the next patient or task.

"I will.” He rose along with her, clearly understanding the dismissal. "Oh ma'am, what's your name?"

For a moment she hesitated to share her name. Normally she preferred the men to call her Nurse Cooper. From past experience, if she told them her name, they seemed to think she was interested in them. Yet with this man, she found herself wanting to share her name. He was kind and respectful. There were no gut feelings scaring her away from him. "Anna. I'm Anna Cooper."

"Pleasure to meet you, Anna Cooper. You need anything, you let me know, right?"

She was unsure how he could help her. Depending on his orders she might never see him again, but she nodded to humor him. "Sure. It was lovely to meet you too, Boyd."

With a parting smile from both, she hurried to the back of the building where they kept the large tub for boiling cloths. She grimaced when she noticed how low the water was. That meant she would have to go to the river soon. A shiver shot through her at the anticipated cold awaiting her outside. Thankfully most of the snow had melted already but winter’s chill still clung possessively to the air. Plus, it did not help how easily cold sunk into her bones. Back home her family would tease her about that fact. Here, on the edge of the front lines, it only made her life more difficult.

Before Doctor Erickson found a reason to yell at her, she headed back out to assist in whatever way possible. Her conversing with Boyd was her first positive interaction in a few days besides with the few others nurses stationed at the field hospital. She hoped he was not sent away too soon.

#Fury movie #fury 2014 #fury fanfic #band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #Don Collier #Don Wardaddy Collier #don collier x OFC #boyd bible swan #boyd swan #mzwrites

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oh-sweet-mama · 3 years

Text

Lonely (VI)

T.W - talk of self harm, talk of suicide

3 weeks later 7 days until the full moon Remus

The feeling of my shoulder blades cutting into my ribs, just added to the feeling of the dulcet ache that seemed to consume me.

3 weeks. 3 fucking weeks. Y/n can't stand to be in the same room as me. Let alone my D.A.D.A partner, but she somehow tolerates it.

Fully cooperating with the work we have to do, like a royal servant. Matching purple under eye bags adorned both of our faces, but somehow made her more eternal.

Over the weeks she had slowly stopped coming to the meals at the great hall, and the effects were starting to show. Her cheek bones were becoming more prominent on her face, and her usually rosy color, long faded away.

The usual radiant y/c/e's faded away to leave a monotone grey. She seemed so fragile, like a Porcelain doll, if only I had treated her that way.

So fuckin' stupid Remus.

A note hit my forehead and landed in front of me.

Keep staring at her like that she'll end up with two holes In the side of her head.

S.B

Recognizing the messy handwriting, before even finishing the note, I immediately knew who it was.

The feeling of tears pricked the sides of the eyes, but I ran out of tears to cry long ago. Instead the feeling of a dulcet ache in the chest replaced the physical show of emotions.

6 days until the full moon Y/n

My shitty diet consisted of Tea, cigarettes, and what ever my friends brought me back to the dorm. Of course I tell them that I'm not their responsibility, but they still bring me the occasional muffin or biscuit.

James brought me entire meals, of which I could barely consume the entire thing.

You have to do it you have to tell him.

No. No I couldn't. I can't risk losing someone else. He would hate me if I ever told him. Send me to the ministry, report me to Dumbledore, hell I'd get kicked out of Hogwarts.

I still maintain physical hygiene and grades. The two most important things. Can't smell and can't fail.

The ache in my chest was never there, maybe it had to do with the fact that I'm always high enough to fend it off.

First tip, the best way to get over someone, get all the emotions out, get numb, act like it never happened.

Easy, right? No. You can't just act like it never happened, he was all I had, all I'll ever have.

I just wasn't good enough.

I stopped going to parties, instead focused on my studies. One of the best in my class.

'Y/n what's your secret?'

'I don't know, uh drugs? Heartbreak? Both?'

5 days until the full moon Remus

The increasing uncomfortable pressure on my joints was almost enough to distract me from her. Almost.

I just want to run up to her and tell her everything, drag Sirius, and make him confess too. Maybe we'll all be happy together.

The imagine of the three of us happy together and in love. Clouded my head. I thought about it so much it was almost tangible.

Her daily routine trips to Madam Pompfrey had me assuming the worse. I had my fare share of bandaging up Sirius' forearms and upper thighs.

I tried to think, her period maybe? No, she's had hers for years, she would just excuse herself to the toilet.

My mind just defaulted into the worse case possible.

Suicide?

My heart thumped in an uneven painful rhythm. Swallowing a lump in my throat I hadn't even known formed I continued to attempt to let my teacher teach me the material of today's lesson.

Please be ok y/n, please, I love you to much to lose you, even though I've already have

4 days until the full moon

Tell him, tell him, he'll help you. The pain is too much, please it hurts.

I took a deep breath calming the clamoring thoughts in my head. A very dangerous place to be at this time of the month.

James was sitting next to me on my bed, the way he usually does, reading something. I noticed the title of his cover.

Lycanthropy: Everything you need to know and why their still human

"Didn't know we were learning about Lycan's in D.A.D.A." I murmured, focusing back on my own book.

"We're not, personal purpose." James answered back.

"What's your opinion on them?" I asked getting more nervous for James' answer.

Tell him, tell him, he'll help you. James loves you, he'll help you.

"There people, humans, witch or wizard, just with a condition. Doesn't make them dangerous, just misunderstood." James answered, "why do you ask?"

My eyes went wide, my pulse sky rocketing, the sudden awareness of the blood rushing through my veins.

"N-no reason." I desperately hid behind the small potions handbook from the library.

"Y/n/n?"

"Hmm? Very interesting potion here yes-"

"Wolves bane potion? How ironic, oh and your little wolves bane garden?"

My face paled, all of the blood rushing from my head into my toes.

Oh why can't I just sink to the bed and disappear?

"Very lovely flowers yes?"

"Do you, have, anything you want to tell me?" James asked causally not looking away from his book.

Oh what the hell.

"Fine! Fine!" I got up from the bed, tossing my book in the process, "I'm a werewolf!"

James froze in his spot. Before slowly lower his book so his eyes could peek above.

"What?"

"I contracted Lycanthropy ok?"

"Y/n sit down, and tell me everything, ok?" A sweet tone, of compassion and understanding, allowed me to sit and tell him everything.

3 days until the full moon

Remus

Nearing the summed of the month, a deep pit of anxiety took place, along with the increasing pain across my body. Sleep easily overcome me at any point possible, but restlessness at any other time.

Dozens of old scars, reminded me of the painful transformation. I pondered the lonely pain, that radiated through my diaphragm. Even being with one of the loves of my life, the immense feeling of being alone, was over clouding my mind.

Though James had been acting different, skittish, more than usual. He was usually found escorting Y/n.

Again in D.A.D.A, We were granted a study hall period, in the Great hall. Books open, parchments being scratched on, quills moving from their ink pots, and light chatter amongst the tables. The table segment of which I sat was mostly empty, Sirius lightly leaning on my left side. A soft voice came by and stopped right in front of me.

Glancing up for a moment, my eyes glued to the figure in front of me. Y/n. oh shit oh shit, keep it cool Remus, don't scare her away now. Though a few seconds later James adorned her side, as usual.

2 days until the full moon Y/n

The secret was out, at least a little, an invisible weight was lifted off of my chest. Granting less anxiety about the first shift of the school year.

Actively avoiding the conversation, about where I go, or how it happened, I seemed to feel free. I guess I hadn't seemed to notice the weight of the secret I had been keeping.

It had become second nature, to harbor such a deadly illness, no harm shall come to them. I promised myself. Even if it meant lying to them.

It's better to not have them know, than having them risk their lives for something I can handle.

1 day until the full moon Remus

Y/n seemed to be getting healthier with the promotion and consolation of James. Every one needs someone to lean on.

I just wish I had been me. Maybe if I had told her, told her about my illness that seemed to consume me at times. Hell, my best friends and boyfriend knew about me long before we even started dating.

Yet 2 years had gone by and I couldn't bring myself to tell her, I was afraid of losing her. But I still did.

The day of the full moon 3rd person

"Y/n, please come with me, trust me please!" James begged to the girl, that refused any type of help. "You've already taken the wolves bane potion, and you can't hurt me. You know why? Because Lycans don't attack Animagus'"

"You're an Animagus?" Y/n whispered, just above her breath.

"Yes. Now please." James held his hand out to her, in a silent last offer of help. Y/n laced her fingers with James' and he sped off with her close in tow.

James pulled a seemingly blank piece of paper from His hoodie pocket, and let go of her hand.

"James, what are you doing?" Y/n asked in a hush tone.

A wild grin played out on James' face, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." The Incantation, followed through the tip of James' wand and caused ink to spread around the parchment. Names moved across through what looked like halls.

"What is that?"

"Marauders map, shows what every one is doing, every minute of everyday, see, there Dumbledore, in his office. I was just making sure the rest of the marauders were on their way and was no one coming."

"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs?"

"Yea you'll see, come on now." James snatched Y/n's wrist and ran, taking her out of the castle and towards the shrieking shack.

"James the willow! Be careful!"

He continued to tug the girl behind him.

"James!"

"Hurry, there almost there." Reaching the edge of the field where the whomping willow resided, James stuffed the map back into his pocket.

"James? What the hell, where were you?" The rest of the marauders came out from behind a group of trees, "and what the fuck is she doing here?" Sirius snapped

"Can I tell them, Y/n?" James asked.

"I will," y/n replied in a hushed tone.

"Tell us what! You're dating?" Sirius scoffed.

"No, I-I'm a werewolf, a Lycan, a lycanthrope, whatever you want to call it! James said you could help me, last time I went to my usual spot, I fractured both of my legs and laid in the middle of the forbidden forest for 3 days"

Sirius paled out, and looked back to Remus.

"If you want me to go, tell me now, I've taken the Wolves bane potion, it's only a couple hours hike into the forbidden forest."

Remus felt his heart drop, then a deep ache. How long? I guess she also had no right to tell me, just as I never told her.

"No, Y/n stay, let's go inside." Remus said, sincerity laced into his voice. Her face softened.

"Where?" She asked.

Remus pointed to the willow. Her face paled.

James headed over to Peter to discuss who would stay outside in case anything went south. Sirius looked to Remus.

Remus took a few hesitant steps toward her. Before reaching his hand out offering her safe passage. Instead she swooped in gently under his arm.

Remus' heart swelled, maybe she does still love me after all.

1888 words

Ahhhahahahhah

It's finally coming together baiwbsiaiensl

-Kal

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majorshiraharu · 4 years

Text

Echoes In My Mind; Chapter 3 - Comfort in Sadness - EchoxReader Fic

Previous Chapter While investigating an abandoned building for the information you needed to steal, you instead came across some scum from your past, a pirate who's base you had destroyed in a raid with some of your Clone troopers during the Clone Wars. His revenge was torturing you and using some strange metallic poison to remove the Midi-chlorians from your body to strip the force from you, a power he believes you don't deserve. Echo and the Bad Batch rescued you, but you wake up 2 standard weeks later after spending that whole time in a coma, waking up you’re confused and scarred, Echo was there to comfort you until you fell asleep -

Note: This is a longer chapter, but since it's a lot of talking I thought I'd leave it all in the same chapter. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Content Rating: Mature+ Warnings: Self Doubt Crying Anxiety Trigger Warnings: Depression PTSD Nightmares Trauma Torture ; only references from the previous chapter

If there are any warning labels I’m missing please inform me --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sometime later - there's a noise that wakes you from your sleep, blinking your eyes into focus as you turn your head you see Echo, slouched against the sleeper with one arm up to hold your hand. It's hard to remember what happened, the last thing you remember was crying into Echos chest as he comforted you, you had felt so tired, the feeling of his warmth must have caused you to fall asleep not soon after. You notice his head resting not too far away from your hand. Slipping your hand out of his - you move it to stroke his head, running your fingers through his short black hair. While stroking his head you feel the small metallic nubs on his head, making you wonder what he himself had been through during the war, he must have been tortured too, you noticed his left arm was cybernetic as well as both his legs, what happened to him? You hate to think of who did this, or why they'd do this. -After a few moments of lost thinking and moving your hand around his head, he starts to move, making sleepy mumbles before yawning. Sitting up, fixing his position before getting up to sit on the bed, and as he looks at you with sleepy eyes. "Hey Y/N, are you feeling better?" he asked sleepily with a concerned look on his face. "Yea... thank you.....and....um...sorry - for crying" you say sitting up in the bed. "No no, it's okay, it's good to let things out and not bottle it up." he says moving his gaze down to look down at the ground with sadness in his eyes. "So what happened, after I contacted you for help?" you asked placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Tech pinpointed your location and we rushed in to get you, there were two Supervisor droids in the room with you that we blasted, our scanners picked up another person near you, but they got away through a hidden door, we thought it was more important to save you than get them though." "Well, I appreciate that, but don't worry he's not very important anyway, just some pirate who's base I destroyed a long time ago, seems he still held a grudge after all this time...what about while I was unconscious, you said I was out for weeks?" "Hopefully he doesn't track you down again to finish the job...but next time he shows up you can be sure I'll put a blaster bolt through that piece of rakeweed for what he did to you" Echo says getting visibly upset and clenching his fists in the sheets of the bed. You reach out and place your hand over his clenched one, rubbing it caringly with your thumb, "Echo, it's okay, this isn't my first encounter with torture, believe it or not..." His hand slowly unclenches before repositioning to capture your hand, you notice how much smaller yours was in comparison to his - he lightly squeezes your hand, moving his gaze to look at you, making a small smile creep across your face. "Sorry..." he says moving his gaze back to stare at the floor by his feet - "Uh, to answer your question, you were unconscious for 2 standard weeks, Tech and I used the limited resources we had to keep you stable, luckily the others were able to find some special medical equipment on a planet and after that, your condition finally started to improve. Tech was able to remove the toxic metal from your body so you shouldn't be feeling the effects of that anymore, sadly even with a limited exposure, it caused a lot of damage to the nerves in your body." While he spoke you noticed tears building in his eyes.

"Thank you, you guys didn't even know me but you saved me and took care of me, I'm sorry for causing you so much trouble." you say placing your other hand on his back hoping to make him feel better. "We couldn't just leave you, I'd never forgive myself, even if I don't know you that well, or at all honestly, I just couldn't... - You know there were a few times we almost lost you, but luckily you're stronger than that kriffing metal." he said holding your hand more tightly before moving his other hand to cup the top of yours, now looking into your eyes. "I'm glad you pulled through, and that you're here... w--" he stops short of finishing his sentence as you move toward him lips parting slightly as your eyes move their focused gaze to his lips - as your lips approach his there's a knock and the door slides open, making both of you jump and quickly turn away from each other as Hunter enters. "Knock knock" he says smirking "You're supposed to knock before you enter Hunter" Echo says bluntly shooting a glare at Hunter. "I did knock" "You knocked as you opened the door that doesn't give one much chance to react" "Why would you need to react?" he says trying not to smirk more "Uhh-" Echo gets flustered trying to find words - you interject to save him " - Because there's a girl staying in here and it's nice to allow her to call you in or not" you say trying to sound as sophisticated as possible, though based on Hunter's baffled expression you could have just spit out a bunch of random words. "Right, sorry." he says scratching his head "How's she doing Echo?" Tech says as he enters the room "Do none of you know how to knock?! ...geez... She's doing better, but we'll have to do a physical to check what she can and can't do right now." "That's finally some good news, there was a lot of poison in your body, but the latest scans I ran were clear, so I think you should be improving soon, but it'll take some work." Tech says as he reached a datapad over to you - you took it from him looking over the information displayed on the screen, trying to understand what you were looking at. "Thank you Tech" you said looking back at him with a sad expression. "If you have any questions just let them know" Hunter said picking up on your anxiety and sadness "And don't worry we'll have you back to normal soon, Echo can vouch for that" he says playfully hitting Echos shoulder

"He's right, the guys helped me through a lot, we'll help you through this... I promise" Echo says looking at you with a soft and caring expression, making you smile lightly now trying to hide your sadness. ---------- You failed most of the physical tests they gave you to gauge how much work you needed to do. You couldn't even use utensils to eat because your dominant hand was still so numb and your whole body was still really weak. All you wanted was for your body to cooperate so you could finally eat something, ever since you woke up you were starving, but they wouldn't let you eat until the physical was finished. ---------- -You couldn't even get your hand to hold the spoon, let alone get it to the bowl to scoop some soup, Echo was sitting next to you watching you struggle and get more upset, feeling bad for you he grabbed the spoon and puts his other hand over yours to comfort you. "Here let me get that" he said taking the spoon from you and scooping up some of the soup, lifting the spoon to your mouth. "Uh Echo, it's ok I need to keep trying till I can do it myself" "No you don't, you're just making yourself upset and that's not going to help you, besides you need to eat something to help get back your strength and the soups getting cold." "Fine" you say looking at him shyly before opening your mouth taking the spoon in - you could have sworn you heard Crosshair’s eyes roll as he walked in on the both of you. "Just here for some Caf, don't mind me" he said walking past Echo who was giving him a death stare, causing you to giggle in amusement before taking the next spoon full of soup into your mouth. Crosshair poured himself some Caf and turned to finally leave, "You kids have fun now and don't make a mess" he said smiling to himself as Echo scoffed - Echo continues to raise spoon full after spoon full of soup to your mouth until it's finally all gone. -"I should take you back to your room, you've had a long day and need some rest" he said putting away the dirty dishes before stepping behind you grabbing the handles of the power chair. "Wait, I want to try and walk back" “Y/N you can't, you just woke up from a coma, and during the physical, you couldn't even stand on your own" "Echo...please" you said with a sad expression on your face "Okay, but I'm doing the heavy lifting got it?" "Got it" you say smiling at him He helps lift you out of the power chair, wrapping an arm around your waist and using his other arm to support you, you wrap an arm around his shoulders and neck trying to balance yourself as you try to walk back to your room. He's strong enough to take all your weight, but still lets you try and walk, you're not able too, you're just able to slightly move your legs, almost pretending you could walk as he does all the work for you. -You get to the new room, it's a nice change from the tiny medbay you were in before, though this room is not very big either, there are two sleepers stacked one above the other in the one corner by the door, and on the other side is the refresher blocked off by some walls and a door. - He sets you down on your sleeper making sure not to hit your head on the one above, he moves to undo some locks and folds the top sleeper against the wall, giving you some actual headroom. "Thank you Echo....you were right I couldn't walk, but I appreciate you letting me pretend" you say smiling at him as he kneels down to start on helping you with some basic leg exercises - after finishing the exercises and massaging your legs some to relax them he gets up and brings over a box with your belongings in it. They must have gone back for your stuff you think as you picked through some of your belongings, picking out a change of clothes. You'd basically been wearing the same thing for the past few weeks because they were too afraid to change your outfit while you were unconscious, man you really wanted to use the refresher, but you were still too weak to use it yourself and there was no way you'd ask any of the guys to help you with that, at least not yet. Echo notices you just staring at the clothes in front of you, unaware that your thoughts have wandered off elsewhere. "Do you need help?" he asks "Um....yeah.... would you mind helping me change into some fresh clothes?" "Oh, uh" he mumbles out, looking more flustered by the second "If you don't feel comfortable I can always wait until I can move my arms more" you said trying to calm him down "No, uh..... it's...I just..don't want to make you uncomfortable" "It's okay with me Echo - I trust you" "I promise I won't look" he said with a kind smile. "Well you kinda have to look to be able to put this stuff on and take off my current clothes," you say jokingly, accidentally causing him to become more flustered. "I'll take it as a challenge - uh - to keep my eyes closed." he says trying not to sound nervous. "Ok" you let out a small laugh, earning a smile from Echo. He steps closer to you and moves the pile of clothes you were looking at, putting each piece neatly to the side next to you so he can easily get to them. Looking at you nervously, he moves your arms pulling the sleeves so that your arms are pulled out of them, falling between your chest and the inside of your shirt. - Closing his eyes as he grabs the bottom of your shirt and rolls it up, pulling it over your head and off of you - he reaches over finding the shirt he had just laid out, grabbing it and pulling it over your head, making sure to keep his eyes close the whole time. Opening his eyes he looks at you smiling at him, trying not to laugh, making him smile back shyly before moving your arms to pull them through each sleeve. Looking down at your pants trying to figure out the best way to change them. - He asks you to lean back, you comply leaning back against the wall, closing his eyes again after moving his hands into the proper positions, he undoes your pants, pulling them down and off, he grabs the other pair and slides each leg in, pulling them up to your waist before buttoning them. "See told ya I could do it" he says smugly opening his eyes to look at you "Thank you" you say noticing the tiredness creeping up on you more.

"You should sleep now, I'll be in the other room with the rest of the boys, if you need anything, just buzz me or anyone on the com and I'll be here in flash" he says as he helps you lay down, covering you up with one of your blankets before placing your comlink next to your hand.

He puts away the old clothes and the box of your stuff before heading towards the door. "Echo?" you say as he starts to walk outside the door "Yes Y/N?" he asks, stepping back inside "Can you....um....can you....uh....stay with me?" you ask in a shaky voice, afraid of being alone.

"If it'll help you sleep, yea" he says walking back to your side before sliding down the edge, sitting on the ground leaning his head and back against the side of the frame. It looked uncomfortable, but somehow he looked comfortable. "Thank you...Echo..." you mumble through your sleepiness, you drop your arm down to his shoulder causing him to turn and look up at you, he smiled softly before taking his hand and placing it over yours holding it as you started to fall asleep finally being swallowed up by your tiredness --------------------------------------------------- Everything's dark, you hear a voice talking to some robots, as you start to open your eyes and try to move you notice the chains on your arms and legs, "NO!" you scream how...how can you be back here, were you dreaming, was your mind only comforting you, or were you dreaming now, having a nightmare of what happened. They start to approach you, they're covered in the shadows of the darkness, "STOP, STAY AWAY" you scream trying to break free as tears flow down your face and sweat dripped from your body. "STOP, PLEASE DON'T, PLEASE......ECHO.....HELP ME...HELP ME...SOMEONE HELP!" you yell as the shadowy figure reaches towards you grabbing you -- you open your eyes jolting awake screaming. You hear a sound next to you and use the little strength you have to punch - hitting something. "Hey careful" you hear Echo say as you feel his fingers wrap around your clenched fist that was pushed into the palm of his hand. "Echo....Echo....I'm.....sorry...I thought youu...weerrre -" you start sobbing and shaking. Echo reaches around his arm to help sit you up, moving onto the bed to support you with his side as he carefully pulls your clenched fist open holding your hand in his. You squeeze his hand leaning into him, resting your head in the crook of his neck, trying to breathe through your sobbing. "It's okay, I'm here, they can't hurt you" he says lightly kissing your head making it hard not to fall back asleep. "Echo..." you sniffle "I don't...I don't want to go back..." "Y/N" "I don't want to be alone" "You're not alone, I'll be right here with you" he said leaning both of you back onto the bed holding you in his arms, - you roll slightly, placing your hand on his chest, snuggling up to him, drifting back to sleep as he pulls the blanket over you. |~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~| Learning how to walk again was one of the more difficult challenges of recovery, besides the almost nightly nightmares, luckily Echo was kind enough to always stay with you and be there when you woke, afraid and shaking, holding you until you fell back asleep. You spent weeks trying to just take more than a single step, Echo was more than happy to provide help again, knowing a little about that strange feeling when you can walk again for the first time in a while, catching you any time you fell, and comforting you as you cried out of frustration. -You've forgotten how many times you've tried to just walk, the boys were kind enough to set up some bars for you to hold as you tried to take some steps, your upper body strength was still weak so you couldn't really hold yourself up for very long. As you try to take more than a few steps your arms and legs both gave out, causing you to crash to the ground, despite Echos' best effort to catch you. "Echo I can't... I just can't....it's not working.... my legs...they aren't working...aannd.... I...I..cann't evvenn use myy...strenggthh to holdd mme upp..." you said sobbing harder and harder, unable to speak properly as your throat shook with pain and frustration. Echo pulled you into his lap almost cradling you, he was trying his best to wipe away your stream tears with his hand "Shhh, it's okay - you'll get there, don't be so hard on yourself Y/N - you're strong I know you can do this" he softly whispers as he pulls your body up to rest against his - you bury your head in his chest, just like you did every time you cried. He hugged you tightly as he lightly rocked you, trying to ease your pain. --You forget how long you both stayed like that, eventually getting up to try again, hoping to just get a little further.

"You got this Y/N and I promise I won't let you fall this time" "Promise?" you teased him, steadying yourself on the bars as you focused on him standing at the other end, preparing to move in case you fell again. "Promise, now just take it slow and focus on me" "That isn't the hard part" you said, giggling at your own joke, making him smirk at you and shake his head. You focus on him, slowly taking more and more steps, you're actually starting to get close to him, you don't notice him backing up until there's suddenly no bars between your fingers, startling yourself, you instinctively reach out for him grabbing around his shoulders as he catches you, holding you by the waist and pulling you closer to him to keep you from falling. You feel your face heat up as you look into is eyes. "Told you you could do this" he says smiling at you. Your legs grow weak and shaky not use to having your weight on them, before they can give out Echo scoops you up in his arms and carries you back over to your sleeper, gently putting you down on it. "Thanks" you said looking at him as he stepped back "No problem, I did promise not to let you fall. I'm going to grab some grub for you and me, we've been at this for a few hours and you need something to get your strength back up" he said before walking out the door. You were exhausted, pulling your legs onto the bed as you laid back letting your head hit the pillow. Before Echo had the chance to even get back to the room you had already fallen asleep, too tired to even think about the food he was bringing. "Y/N the boys wanted me to tell you that --" he stops realizing you're asleep. He walks over to the small side table and sets down the bowls of food before walking over to you, tucking you in, leaning down to you he whispered "--they're proud of you.....I'm proud of you, good night, Y/N, I'll be right here", kissing your forehead and brushing your cheek with his hand. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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#echo x reader #echo #arc trooper echo #the bad batch #clone force 99 #bad batch fic #arc trooper echo x reader #echo x you #tcw #tcw fic #star wars fic #arc trooper echo x you #eventual smut #echo fluff #the clone wars #the clone wars fic #reader insert clone wars #majorshiraharu

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dumbkiri · 4 years

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Fate Changes Four

Parts: [ 1, 2, 3, Here, 5 ]

Summary: When all is about to end, the Knight stops his damsel in distress from taking her life once again. But this time was different. She wasn’t going to stop unless he gave her a good reason not to. Telling her he wasn’t dead this whole entire time might be the way.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female! Reader

Genre: Slight Angst

Word Count: Idk, it’s short

Warnings: Blood, Suicide, Death, Guns

Stop!"

"Don't listen to him." Jason said.

"You don't want to do this, [Name]."

[Name]'s smile was wiped off her face and she turned her head at the source of the speaker. Her eyes landed on the Arkham Knight. He stood at the entrance of the cell with his hands up, showing her that he meant no harm.

Her hands began shaking and she looked away from him. Her eyes focused on the wall in front of her. It was discolored and blank. Unlike her who was decorated in various colors due to her injuries. "I'm going to do this, Knight. I'm finally going to be able to be free and this heavy weight that's been on my shoulders will be lifted off."

The Arkham Knight took a step into the cell and she jumped to her feet. She didn't hesitate to point the gun at him, "Take one more step and I'll shoot you."

He stopped moving and let his hands rest by his sides. "Put the gun down," The Knight warned and gesture for her to listen to him. Yet she wasn't cooperating. "Listen to me, you don't want to go down this route. Death is not- There are some people who-"

"Batgirl, stand down," Batman ordered the woman suddenly appearing behind her. If the bulletproof glass wasn't between them then the Bat would probably have taken her down.

The Arkham Knight froze in his spot as he stared at the caped crusader.

"Pull the trigger," Jason coated her.

On the other hand, [Name] bit her lip. The fear toxin was still working in her system, but for some reason she didn't see any monsters or scary images. Then she looked at the gun gripped tightly in her hands, "I'm going to take my life. I don't care if you disagree, Batman. And Knight, you have no right to care for me."

She lifted her eyes to the Arkham Knight and glared at him, "You barge into my home. Destroyed it. Took my first chance of taking my life."

"He doesn't want us together," Jason sighed.

[Name] took a deep breath in, "Forced me into a car. Fought me while I suffered from two bullet wounds. Ended up in a car accident and you saved me."

She aimed at his suit again, "Watched me suffer with the fear toxin taking over. Now you want to save me for a third time. I want to know who you are before I do anything drastic."

The Arkham Knight sighed and shook his head, "All those hints I gave you. All those Romeo and Juliet phrases going back and forth. I thought those would jog your memory."

"Everyone knows about Romeo and Juliet," She countered.

"Not like us, we remember it differently. I thought I was your home," The Knight said and if it wasn't for the robotic voice, she would have assumed his voice cracked a bit. She was shaken by his sentence.

"You'll always be my home, Romeo."

She shook her head and backed up into the wall. He couldn't be him. All this time, he was right here in front of her. All this time, he was watching her get beaten down and even used force on her.

"You are not my Romeo," She began with an attitude, "he would have never laid hands on me or let alone watch anyone beat me."

"That's right! I would never harm you, [Name]." Jason said desperately.

The Arkham Knight stayed quiet and she wished for him to give her a reason why he did what he did. He let Barbara die.

Meanwhile, Batman laid his hands on the cell desperately wanting to hold the girl in his arms. He needed to take her away from the cell and to Alfred where he can keep a watchful eye on her. But for right now,he watched [Name] uncover the truth behind the Arkham Knight.

"You expect me to believe you are him!" She yelled at the Knight. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. The grip on her gun was locked and her knuckles turned white. "Well I don't believe you!"

"You don't have to believe my words, you have to trust them," The Knight said with a softer tone. His hands reaching for her slowly and his legs moving toward her. "Please, [Name], put the goddamn gun down."

[Name] shook her head, "Stop! I said don't move!" She pulled the trigger giving him a warning shot. The Arkham Knight stopped and raised his hands up again. His feet standing firm on the ground, not moving an inch.

She was breathing heavy and she didn't know what the cause of it was from; the fear toxin or the sudden shock of Jason being alive. Either way, her heart was pounding and her head was in a swirl. Unbeknownst to her and the rest, one more shot of fear toxin entered her system and her hand flew to the collar.

"Ugh," [Name] groaned, "I'm going to kill him!" She yelled and dropped the gun to the floor. She needed two hands to take the collar off and holding a weapon wasn't going to help her.

The Knight saw this as a chance to render her unconscious. He ran at her and slammed her body against the cell wall to which she cried out, "What in God's name is wrong with you!"

"I need you to calm down!" The Knight yelled at her and ended up getting punched in the face.

"Get away from me!" [Name] yelled and kicked at him. Her vision showing her a monster trying to take advantage of her.

"It's the fear toxin," Batman spoke up to the Knight, "it's taking over her body."

The Knight scoffed and dodged a kick from [Name], "Yeah? Why didn't it affect her earlier? She had about seven doses already."

"She saw someone important to her in the visions early on, that's who she's afraid of," Batman reasoned and worked on getting inside the cell. He could use his explosive gel, although he could harm [Name] in the process.

The Knight blocked [Name]'s right hook and swiped his leg under her feet. Her back collided with the cell floor and she let out a strangled gasp. "Old man, you got any bright ideas to get her out without me damaging her so much?"

"Talk to her," Batman simply responded.

[Name] grabbed the Knight's foot and yanked on it causing him to lose his balance in the process. She crawled on top of him and started delivering punches left and right. She showed him no mercy.

"She'll listen to you," Batman explained to the Knight watching his student unleash her wrath, "Show her that you're her Romeo."

The Knight gritted his teeth and pressed a button on the right side of his helmet.

[Name] raised her left arm to give the Knight another cruel punch, but a hissing sound made her stop. She watched as his helmet came off.

Her breath caught in her throat as she saw those gunmetal eyes once again. Those stormy blue eyes she saw a long time ago. His black hair barely peeking out from the helmet. And that scar, that scar that made her blood run cold.

"It really is you," [Name] admitted putting her hand down at her side.

Jason nodded, "Yeah, I told you."

"Batgirl, get down!" Batman warned and gunshots rang in the cell.

Jason hovered over [Name]'s body and shielded her as much as he could. Once it stopped raining bullets, Batman blew up the wall of a cell and walked into it. He handled the men that wreaked havoc in the cell. After that was done, he checked up on his family.

"No, no, no," He heard the Knight say over and over and when the smoke dispersed, Batman saw [Name] bleeding out in the Knight's arms. A bullet wound in her abdomen.

"We have to get her out of here," Batman placed his hand on Jason's shoulders.

……

"She's in stable condition, sir," Alfred said confirming the vitals on the screen were stable. "But she's going to be out of commission for at least a week. I've found three bullets, one that broke into shards."

"I assume you took all the pieces out," Batman spoke over the phone. He was busy tracking down Scarecrow.

"To the best of my abilities. Not only that, she broken at least four of her ribs, sprained her ankle and has multiple contusions. It's a miracle she's alive considering the bruises and damage that's been done to her body."

"Not helping, Alfred," Jason called out to the butler from his sulking corner. His voice firm and broken at the same time. Those injuries were caused by him. He was the one that caused her so much pain.

Alfred looked over at Jason. It was just an hour ago that he found out the boy he lost long ago was alive. "Well, yes, Master Todd, it seems that you are feeling guilty for what happened to Miss [L.Name]."

"Guilty?" Jason scoffed, "I should feel more than guilty. She almost died, she could have died." He corrected himself.

"But you saved her," Alfred dressed [Name] in new bandages, "I recall you saving her on multiple occasions, Robin or not."

"That's not the point," Jason argued.

"Then what is?" Alfred shot back laying [Name] gently back on her bed. "Sulking about what happened? It won't help her. The only thing- No, the only person that has ever helped her was you, Master Todd."

Jason still stood in the corner of the room with his arms over his chest.

"When you died, nothing was ever the same. Master Bruce would stay in the batcave with little to no sleep and [Name],"

Jason looked over at the woman in the bed.

"She was alone again. She lost the love of her life in the most cruel way; at Joker's hands." Alfred finished while setting a wet cloth on her forehead.

"She replaced me."

"She did no such thing," Alfred defended [Name], "and neither did Master Bruce. They both loved you in their own ways."

Jason pushed himself off the wall and glared at Alfred, "Then why did Joker tell me there was a new Robin? I wasn't even dead, yet they found someone else. Someone else to call Robin."

Alfred looked sadly at Jason, "Master Drake found out who they were, their real identities. Master Bruce could not just allow this boy to run around knowing who Batman really was."

Jason turned away, "While they were out there, I was being tortured by a psychotic villain. I thought that Bruce would have killed him already, but turns out the Joker died differently. I wanted him to suffer. To feel the pain he dealt me."

"Batman almost killed the Joker," Alfred confessed. "He was nearly there until [Name] stopped him. She stopped him from crossing the line."

……

"Batman, stop!" Batgirl landed on the roof, standing behind the caped crusader.

"Oh, Batgirl!" Joker laughed, his legs dangling in the air, "Thank goodness, you're here! I was starting to worry you weren't going to show!"

"Let Joker go," [Name] advised while gripping a batarang in between her fingers.

Batman didn't say anything and kept his hands around Joker's neck.

"Uh-oh, Bats, seems like you got another rogue birdie," Blood was dripping down his chin, "we all know what happened to the last bird that left his nest too soon."

"Shut up!" Batman demanded and squeezed Joker's neck even harder. If he did it any more stronger, the psycho's neck would snap.

Batgirl spoke up, "You'll regret your actions later, Batman. You have a code. A code you made yourself and the others follow because if we broke it,…"

……

"We're no better than them," Jason finished off Alfred's recount of that night.

"Yes, even I wanted the bastard dead. I was so set on the Joker dying that I didn't care for the consequences at the time. But [Name] stopped us from crossing that line."

Jason walked over to [Name]'s bedside and sat down at the edge. Her hands were cut up and bandaged. Her face adorned with bruises and cuts. One of her eyes covered up in ice to stop the black eye from swelling so much.

"I thought she wanted the Joker dead too," Jason questioned reaching out for her hand.

Alfred hummed, "Of course, she did. That's all she ever wanted after your death. She wanted him to die so badly that she said she was going to be the one that kills him."

Jason intertwined his fingers with hers.

"And when she found out the Joker was sick, she rejoiced. Finally, the clown was getting what he deserved."

#Jason Todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #arkham knight #arkham knight imagine #arkham knight x reader #batman imagine #batman #dc universe #dc imagine #fate changes #slight angst

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laviellacreambuy · 3 years

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LaViella Skin Cream: Review, Skin Care, Good Products, Soft Skin, #Price, & Buy ?

LaViella Facial Moisturizer Cream is the best cream till date, satisfying customers and still rising in demand day by day. Though there are many products in the market which promises to make skin look young and fresh by removing wrinkles. But why do they get failed? The reason is simple, as they never tell the complete truth about the products.

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alpha-centari27 · 4 years

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“Robotnik Hates Christmas”

Title: “Robotnik Hates Christmas“ -- I know not very creative, but I can change it later. The important part is just to write.

Characters: Stone & Robotnik and some other filler characters.

Warnings: Mentions of self-harm behaviors and mental breakdowns so be advised.

Plot Summary: It’s almost Christmas and Robotnik’s work has come to a grinding halt because of the miserable and detestable holiday. Stone learns more about Robotnik’s past and Robotnik as a person. Hopefully, they can both survive the holiday.

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It was a chilly and overcast day at the research facility and military base Agent Stone called home for the time being--or at least that is what his phone said a few minutes ago. He wouldn’t know what the atmosphere outside looked like being cooped up in the air hanger like structure that housed Robotnik’s mobile lab, prototypes and other assorted works in progress, spare parts, tools and testing equipment.

Agent Stone mentally went through his to do list. He had already stocked up on food for Robotnik’s fridge, freezer and pantry. He would need to consider making a grocery run to pick up some fresh produce in the near future, but otherwise they were in good shape. The drones were fully charged and had earlier been inspected for any wear and tear that required maintenance and repair. The mobile lab itself was in tip top condition. Tool boxes and spare parts bins had been inventoried and he had already given his list to the Dr. for his approval and given permission to make the necessary orders. Everything seemed to be running smoothly. The trash, recycle and hazardous materials bins had been emptied. After disposing of the waste and recycle there was cleaning and tidying up to do, which was also complete.

“Huh...“ Agent Stone hummed to himself as he patrolled the aisles and open spaces for anything out of place, anything he might have missed that required a little tender loving care.

“I think I really have done everything that I can do for the time being. Better check in with Robotnik to see if he needs anything.“ He whispered, setting his course for the mobile lab where he was sure he would find the man at his work station.

Agent Stone climbed the stairs of the mobile lab, being careful to tread lightly on the steps. Stone couldn’t help but smile seeing Robotnik at his computer, flicking and thumbing through the visual displays. It still amazed him that he got to be a part of this. It was like he was the sorcerer’s apprentice--watching the raw act of creation from nothing but an abstract, intangible thought that was turned into an idea, translated into a testable hypothesis or experiment and then given physical form.

“Good afternoon Dr.“ Stone announced as he made his approach. Lazily Robotnik paused and turned over his wrist.

“So, it is afternoon already.“ Robotnik said with an edge to his voice. Stone guessed that the Dr. was not in the mood for chit chat and instead focused his eyes on what Robotnik was reading. It seemed like the Dr. was refreshing his pages and menus just waiting for something to happen or a new message to pop into his inbox. Sure enough, Robotnik refreshed one of the pages again and a new unread message appeared. Robotnik opened it immediately. Stone could make out Robotnik’s expression reflected off the screen, he was not pleased at all.

“I hate Christmas! I hate the whole holiday season!“ The Dr. decried. “Why?” From what Stone could make out the message was an automatic reply message stating they were out of town for the holiday and would return a week after the New Year’s. He knew all too well Robotnik could be moody, but did this really warrant such a dramatic reaction?

“Christmas isn’t so bad Dr. the lights and presents and food. It’s a chance to take a break from work to be with family.“ Stone immediately regretted saying that. This was the worse possible thing he could have said.

“Not so bad... Agent Stone.” Robotnik said rising to his feet in a way that was slow and menacing. “I cannot progress my work because everyone is on vacation and unavailable! Don’t even get me started on the forced sentimentality of being nice to the people you can’t stand all year. Santa isn’t real and the story of Jesus is an exaggeration at best. Good will to all men for this holiday season, but every other time of the year--who cares?” Robotnik said flippantly, baring his teeth. “The expectation of always being happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy--joy, joy, joy, joy.” The Dr. said clapping and speaking in a parody of an upbeat cartoon character. “It all makes me sick.“ Stone just stood as stiff as a board and took it. He should have known better.

“Is there anything I can do for you Robotnik?” He asked trying to steer the conversation in a more constructive direction. “By my assessment everything is in good repair, we have adequate supplies of spare parts and what we are running low on has been put on order.“

“No.” Robotnik said while shaking his head. “If everything has been tended to and cleaned up then, no.“ Robotnik faced his screen again and shut it down. For a while he just stood in place without saying a word. “Why don’t you take some time off Stone?“

“Time off?“ Stone repeated. He never expected to hear those words pass through Robotnik’s tight lips. This coming from the man who was the definition of a workaholic.

“I insist you take some time off. If I have nothing to do than you have even less to do.“ Stone was lost for words and didn’t know what to say. He wouldn’t mind having a break for a few days, but he wasn’t sure if that would be allowed.

“I think I need to check with my contacts first.“ Robotnik frowned, but said nothing at first.

“Of course.“ He muttered.

Stone excused himself to step outside and find a place to make a phone call out of earshot of Robotnik or anyone else who could over hear.

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A segway was useful for getting from one end of the base to the other, but it still took a while. It took a ridiculous amount of time to find a private spot for a phone call, but there was little sense in whining now that he found what he was looking for. He had seen it numerous times by now, but never ventured outside the base to look at it more closely.

Not far from the installation there was an old phone booth. The phone had been removed, but for some reason the glass and metal case remained standing. Maybe it was left in tact for this exact purpose.

Agent Stone thumbed through his list of important contacts and stopped on Lance Bringum. He tapped the name and gave a second tap for the call icon before raising the cell phone to his ear. Hopefully, his contact had not skipped town for the holidays too.

“Hello?“ A voice answered on the first ring.

“Ugh, hi. Mr. Bringum, it’s agent Stone calling.“ A deep sigh was Mr. Bringum’s immediate reply to Stone’s greeting.

“What can I help you with today Mr. Stone?“

“The reason I am calling is to find out if I can get some time off--that’s all.” He said with a shrug, not that Bringum could see that he was shrugging nonchalantly. “Christmas is almost right around the corner and it seems as though Robotnik’s work has ground to a halt. He even suggested that I take some time away from him.“ There was a prolonged pause that dragged on for more than a minute. Stone began to wonder if maybe he hung up or they got disconnected. “Sir, are you still there?“

“Agent Stone, the answer is no! As I have said before this is a 24/7 assignment and your assignment is Robotnik. We considered you for this post in part because you have said you have no close family to visit around the holidays. If he has no work for you to assist him with than kick your feet up, read a magazine, watch some TV, while still keeping an eye on him and tending to his needs as he sees fit. The only way you are cashing out your PTO is if you quit. At this point I am amazed you have stuck this out for so long. Are you sure you don’t want to quit right now?“

“I am not quitting Sir.“ Stone answered firmly and politely.

“Good, good because I wouldn’t let you quit your assignment at this time of the year anyway. You would have to wait till the beginning of January at the earliest.“

“Why is that Sir?“ Stone asked out of curiosity.

“I have said too much... But maybe you should know so you can be prepared. You have never been around Robotnik at this time of the year.” Now Stone was even more curious. What did Mr. Bringum know that he did not? He had been told repeatedly not to ask questions to leave well enough alone and not to trouble Robotnik’s mind with personal questions. This was also a lesson he had quickly learned the hard way early on when he first started working alongside Robotnik. Stone steadied himself before speaking again.

“Prepared for what Mr. Bringum?“ Silence, then a deep sigh.

“You didn’t hear this from me, understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“This is just what I have heard. I cannot verify this for myself because it’s--“

“Classified.“ Stone said finished the sentence for him.

“Right. A number of years ago Robotnik had some sort of breakdown around Christmas. He locked himself inside some sort of solitary confinement cell or high security storage area. It’s believed that he did this intentionally and there was no foul play involved. Why he would do this to himself is beyond me.” Stones eyes widened in shock and he had to brace himself to maintain his balance. “Anyway...” Mr. Bringhum drawled. “When they found him he was almost dead. He was unconscious, badly dehydrated and malnourished, some bottles of liquor were found close to him. He had probably been in there for at least two days before he was found. From what I heard he made a quick enough recovery physically... Mentally, I suspect he always has and always will have a few loose screws. I think they tried to evaluate him psychologically, but he refused to cooperate. You know what they say about leading a horse to water.“ Stone nodded. His mind was racing. This changed everything, this one sliver of information into Robotnik’s past was re-writing everything he thought he knew about him, which admittedly was not much.

“You’re not pulling my leg are you?”

“No, Agent Stone--I’m not. But like I said I cannot view the files myself. Something happened and it was serious enough to make us re-think how we handle him.“ Stone paused again. He didn’t like the phrase ‘handle him’ as if Robotnik was some kind of animal snatched from the wild and coerced and conditioned to perform. Stone always wanted to know more about the Dr. and now was his chance to get some answers. May as well make the most of it and push for as much as Bringum is willing to share.

“Ok, so he refused a psych evaluation. What happened next?“

“Well, despite his insubordination--it’s not like we could let someone with his talents and expertise slip through our fingers. If he wouldn’t submit to a psych evaluation and a treatment plan then we had to think of something else that would at least be tolerable for him.“

“Wait, this is why the Dr. has an assistant assigned to him isn’t it?“

“You’re right on the money Stone. They made some adjustment to his workload, made it more manageable for him, or so I heard. Although he was never evaluated by a psychologist after that incident they suggested that he might benefit from having an assistant. Someone to talk to, someone to help him relax and curb any self-destructive tendencies just by having another person constantly around him.”

“It sounds like what you are describing is a friend.”

“I suppose in a way, yes. At first we gave him a small group of assistants to help him out. Turns out that didn’t work. I think it’s just too challenging for him to handle a small group of people. All he needs is one person he can trust and rely on to be a buffer between him and everyone else. That and he found it a source of amusement to pit the assistants against each other.“ A smile came to Stone’s face. He would need to keep this in mind when he was on missions with the Dr. and they were assigned a team of government agents to make the job easier and more efficient. Though from what he could remember the Dr. seemed content to let Stone boss them around. His smile faded when he returned to what Bringum had confided in him.

“Hmmmm.... What do you propose I do with Robotnik?“

“Huh...find a way to keep his mind occupied that doesn’t lead to trouble. I wish I could tell ya something more than that. You should get back to your post and I should shut up now. Good day and good luck Stone.“

“Thank you, Mr. Bringum. I won’t let you down.“ Stone heard the sound of a click. The call was over and he had so many unanswered questions.

The government wrote his paycheck, but Robotnik was the boss calling the shots and telling him what to do. If he made a suggestion would Robotnik actually listen to him?

“Well, I guess there is only one way to find out.“

Stone hopped on his segway and passed through the entry gate after showing his government ID and hauled ass back to the hanger where he assumed Robotnik would be.

Stone wondered and worried if Robotnik asking him to take time off was intended to be a diversion or distraction for the Dr. to do something stupid.

He parked and dismounted the segway outside the mobile laboratory. Tracing his earlier steps up the stairs. The Dr. was no where in sight.

Stone was stricken with a sense of panic. Where could he be? Standing in the middle of the lab, Stone’s phone began to vibrate. Robotnik was calling him.

“Hello.“ Stone said, trying to sound natural.

“Where the hell have you been? I got tired of waiting so I tossed together some lunch.“

“Oh... Sorry, about that.“

“Did you go all the way to the moon to make your call?“

“No. Ugh, where are you right now? I’m by the mobile lab.”

“My personal quarters.“

“Ok, that’s not too far. Just give me a few minutes. Oh, and one more thing. I’m staying with you whether you have work or not. I’m not going on vacation.“ Stone ended the call and put his phone away.

The Dr. had what amounted to his own house on the premises that was in close proximity to the hanger. “I wonder what he made for lunch.“

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Author notes:

Yay, it’s done for now!

I want to continue this, but I am not entirely sure how. I got some ideas, but I need to think about how this fanfic is going to progress and how it’s going to end. If I know how this ends then I can work my way backwards to build up to the ending I have outlined.

If this does get a few more chapters I probably will change up the POV and have some stuff from Robonik’s POV.

I don’t imagine this turning into sexy times or Stone trying to be anything more than a friend and someone Robotnik can confide in.

This happens before the events of the movie.

#agent stone #robotnik #dr robotnik #jimbotnik #sonic hedgehog fanfic #sonic hedgehog 2020 #sonic movie

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chmitzfam-blog · 3 years

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