#(also how long do you think hiccup was in a coma for at the end of the movie?) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

halloweenhoneylover · 4 years ago

Text

the struggle bus

summary: spencer is the kindest human alive, which makes things tough for the reader :/ (spencer reid x fem!reader)

word count: 5.3k (a doozy kinda!)

warnings: i guess angst, but really just idiots in love (my fav trope). reader is kind of a hot mess. also, mention of overdose via multivitamin.

author’s note: hi, it’s been approx 4000 years since i last posted, but it’s just because i have no concept of ‘efficiency’ or ‘speed.’ but it’s okay. some of this is good, some of this is eh, make of that what you will. also, this is supposed to be #funny sometimes so uhhhh, keep that in mind. ALSO, the title is majorly stupid, but it was the title of the google doc, and i couldn’t think of anything else......anyways, love u!

For once, the bullpen was quiet.

Spencer was immersed in some case file, doing some work that you should have probably been doing as well, but it was approaching the late hours of the night, and you would barely be able to keep your eyes open if you came even close to trying to read or write. Your desks were situated against each other, so you shifted your gaze across the small divider to him. His sharp features were softened in the lamplight, a sight that tugged on your heartstrings, and you took a moment to just look at him. Most everyone else was gone or was too focused on getting their work done to pay attention to your reverie. Derek, if he were here, would dub you as ‘lovesick’ and shoot mischievous smirks and wiggling eyebrows in your direction, but luckily for you, he was not. Twisting carelessly in your chair with your feet propped on the desk, you chewed absentmindedly on a pen, lost deep in thought. “Hey, Spencer?”

“Yeah?” He continued scribbling on the file without so much as a glance towards you, but that was perfectly fine by you, more time for not-creepy staring.

“How many of my vitamins do you think I could eat before I died?”

At this, he furrowed his brow and neatly laid his pen down.

“That depends on what vitamin you’re taking. If you’re talking about iron supplements, the limit is somewhere around 20mg of elemental iron per kilogram of body weight. Any more than that will have incredibly unpleasant side effects like abdominal pain, persistent vomiting, rapid breathing, and coma. However, if you’re talking about Vitamin C, it’s virtually impossible to overdose, but you might get a bad headache if you supersede 2000 mg.”

“Okay, what about my gummy vitamins?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “While it still depends on what vitamins are included, eating a whole bottle of your typical multivitamin could easily result in death.”

You mulled this over. “So, I should definitely not go home and eat the rest of my gummy vitamins tonight?”

Spencer chuckled, “I’m not a medical doctor, but yes, I’d recommend that you don’t do that.”

Tossing your head back and letting out a small groan, you protested, “But Spencer, my gummy vitamins taste so good! And I have no food at home, so I guess I either die by overdose on gummy multivitamins or starvation.”

He couldn’t help but grin at your melodrama. It could be 12:06 in the morning, and you could still somehow make him laugh. He was starting to understand that he was in too deep, but he also had the startling realization that he didn’t mind drowning if it was in you.

“You’ve got quite the predicament on your hands there, (Y/N). Maybe you should go grocery shopping with me the next time I suggest it, so you don’t end up in this situation again.”

“Oh my god, dude!” you moaned. “I told you I was actually busy; I had to take Oscar to the vet for his vaccines! I try to be a good mother to my dog, and you know I’m not an anti-vaxxer. I’d never decline time with my favorite guy without a good reason.”

Spencer’s heart was doing somersaults at the thought of him being your favorite guy. He’d won plenty of awards and medals in his lifetime, but somehow, none of those measured up to the accomplishment of being your favorite. Pride and butterflies boiled in his stomach.

“Alright, fine, I’ll let it slide this time.”

You snorted, “I appreciate your unmatched benevolence, Dr. Reid.” Locking eyes with him, you tried to dampen the lava flow of heat in your chest that erupted when he looked at you with the softest expression you’d ever seen, but you failed miserably. You had to clear your throat and look away; it was becoming all too much. “Hey, I’m gonna run to the restroom. Don’t leave without me!”

As you dashed away, a thought crossed Spencer’s mind, and he stood up and set off down the opposite hallway.

You returned a few minutes later to an empty bullpen which made you frown, and your heart sank. You had thought he was going to wait, but guess not. Sighing, you tried to not let it sting too badly when you noticed a light on in JJ’s office. You knocked and pushed the already ajar door with a quick hello? before being met with an exhausted-looking JJ.

“Hey, (Y/N). I thought everyone had left by now.”

“Nope, not quite yet,” you replied, offering a weak smile. JJ noticed and wrote it off as fatigue. “You didn’t happen to see Spencer leave a couple minutes ago, did you?”

“Uh, no, I thought he’d gone too.”

“Hm, okay, thanks anyway!”

You prepared to leave, but she stopped you, cocking her head. “Why do you ask? Is he still here?”

Leaning your head against the doorframe, you sighed. “I’m not sure. He was here when I went to the bathroom, but he wasn’t at his desk when I came back. I’m a little disappointed. We always walk out together because we’re both afraid of the parking garage at night.”

A grin simmered on JJ’s face at that fact. “Well, I could walk you out if you’d like?”

“Nah, that’s okay; I don’t want to bother you.”

There was something behind JJ’s eyes you couldn’t identify as she replied, “Alright, then. Just let me know if you change your mind.” She definitely wasn’t thinking about how you didn’t want her intruding on a you-and-Spencer tradition. Not that she minded! She’d been rooting for you both since the minute you’d stepped into the BAU, and Spencer had looked like he was about ready to melt into the floor at the sight of such a pretty girl.

“Thanks, Jayje.”

Dragging your feet a little, you made your way back to your desk to gather your things, trying to fend off the disappointment. You had gotten your jacket on and were about to pick up your bag when you heard a (Y/N)! from down the hall. Well, that was certainly not JJ. Hesitantly, you called out, “Spencer?”

He finally emerged with his arms loaded with...something, you couldn’t discern what in the dim light. His face lit up like the Vegas strip when he saw you. “(Y/N)! I didn’t want you starving or eating all of your vitamins, so I went down to the vending machine and got you a couple snacks!” Arriving at his desk, he dropped the various bags and packets on his desk, and your eyes widened immensely.

“A couple? Dude, did you buy out the whole machine?”

Slightly breathless from his quick jog back, he waved a dismissive hand. “It was nothing. And hey, look!” He picked up a bag. “Fruit snacks! Just like your vitamins, but without the part where you get really sick.”

You were astonished, to say the least. And minorly speechless too, as evidenced by your mouth that was gaping like a fish. “Spencer...this is so nice. You really didn’t have to.”

“Don’t worry about it; I’m sure you would’ve done the same for me.”

At that, your face nearly split in two, and he mirrored your grin. You thought you might pass out at his kindness, and you knew you’d be thinking about this every day for the next two weeks at least. Your expression then turned mischievous, as you tried to tamp down all of the warmth bubbling in your stomach. “Do you want to help me try to fit all this in my bag?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

———

Garcia had been practicing her ukulele peacefully when she got the call. (Well, ‘peacefully’ might have been a stretch as she had threatened to smash the object on her coffee table when she simply could not get the finger picking pattern she’d practiced for what seemed like hours, but it was supposed to be a relaxing hobby, so yes, it was peaceful.) Huffing a sigh of relief when the caller ID said [(Y/N/N)!!] with the longest stream of heart emojis and not [hotch >:( ], she picked up with her usual air of cheer. “What can I do ya for, my loveliest, most bewitching—”

She was cut off abruptly by the sounds of your horrible, heart-wrenching sobs, and her brows furrowed in concern. “Oh no, my sweet! What’s wrong?” She had to wait a few moments for your tears to calm (somewhat) while you tried to wrangle in your breath, so you could form some sort of sentence.

“Penny!”—gasp—“Oh my God,”—hiccup—“it looks so bad!” With your last word, you tumbled into incoherent bawling once again.

“Dear, what looks so bad?” She held her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she began to gather up her things. Whatever was wrong, it was clear you needed some good, old-fashioned Garcia TLC, and she was ready to give it.

The sniffling subsided minorly, and you choked out, “Remember when we were talking the other day, and I mentioned that my hair had gotten a little too long for my liking?” Oh no, Garcia could see where this was going. “Well, I figured I’d spend our evening off getting my hair cut, and I went to that new hairdresser, and oh Penelope, it looks awful. I don’t think I can ever go out in public again.” With that, your tears resumed.

“Darling, you know I’ve been where you are, and I know it seems bad right now, but everything will be fine. Let me grab my scissors and I’ll be over faster than you can say, ‘Penny, I love you so much, you truly are my fairy godmother.’”

You paused before whispering into the phone, “Penelope, I do love you so much, and you are my fairy godmother. But please, hurry.”

And hurry, she did.

Garcia was knocking on your door a little over five minutes later, which was incredibly suspicious because she lived at least 10 minutes away on a good day, but in the state of your disarray, you were not inclined to care. She sat you down on the toilet in your bathroom, whipping out her hair care set (she had definitely spent a significant amount of time dabbling in cosmetology, and it was desperate times like this when it came in handy). Squeezing your eyes shut through most of it, she snipped here and there, trying to make the best of this...horribly atrocious cut (seriously, that hairdresser should be sued), and when she was finished, it was not as bad as when they started, but it still wasn’t great. The rest of the evening was spent watching cheesy rom-coms and baking in an attempt to get your mind off of your hair.

Everything was mostly fine until the next morning, when you realized you’d have to go into work like this, and as terrifying as that prospect was in a normal work environment, you also worked in a place with an abnormal amount of hot people. (And you happened to be developing feelings for one of those hot people, but your brain was insistent upon ignoring that for the time being.)

Already anticipating your worries, Penelope had sent a text without your knowledge to a BAU group chat that excluded you (she had one of these for every member, it just made surprise birthday party planning so much easier).

[penelope :)] please DO NOT MENTION (Y/N)’S HAIR!!!! she got a bad haircut and she feels really terrible about it and doesn’t want to think about it so do not talk about it!!!

[jennifer!] Oh, no! :( Lips are sealed!

[rossi ;)] rip.

Emerging from the elevator in the nicest work outfit you own (an attempt to distract from the monstrosity), you scurried to Garcia’s lair before anyone could see you. Once inside, you slammed the door shut, and leaning against it, you slid down and covered your face with the files in your hands. “Pennyyyyy,” you moaned. “I don’t think I can do this!”

She swiveled to face you with a look of empathy. “Sugar, I know you can. It—it doesn’t even look that bad!” But Garcia was a horrible liar, and if looks could kill, she would have been dead instantaneously.

Heaving yourself up off the floor, you came to sit in the seat next to her. “Can’t I just work in here today? And maybe for the rest of time?”

“You know I would love that, but those other lovely people on our team need you! Especially the young doctor, you know he’d be lonely without you.”

As if her mention had summoned him, Reid opened the door to their secret meeting, files in hand, and your eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets. Garcia stared at him very intensely, attempting to telepathically tell him to not mention the hair, and you looked like a deer in the headlights, trying to figure out a way to hide yourself from him and possibly the entire universe. And poor Reid shifted his gaze between the two of you, helplessly confused as to what he had walked into. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Uh, no!” Garcia said in the least convincing manner.

“Okay,” he responded, not convinced in the slightest. “I just came to give you some files from Hotch.” So, he handed Garcia the papers and then turned to leave when you caught his eye.

And because he was not the greatest with technology, Spencer had not checked his phone that morning…. Meaning he had not seen Garcia’s text. So he looked at you a moment and cocked his head. “Your hair looks really nice today, (Y/N). Did you get it cut?”

This time, it was Garcia’s turn to glare (because read your texts, dammit!), and you fumbled for a response. As you scanned his face, searching for a sign that he was lying, that he was just saying something to make you feel better, you came up empty. He was telling the truth. He genuinely thought your hair looked nice. “Um, uh—yeah. Yeah, I did. Thanks for noticing.”

“You’re welcome.” He offered you a smile, which you returned easily (a fact that surprised you). “See you.” Retreating from the office because the vibes in there were weird, he shut the door, finally leaving you and Garcia alone again.

You were reeling.

You thought about when you had gotten dressed that morning, and you had entertained each outfit with great scrutiny, trying to come up with something that might draw attention away from your hair. In that half hour you’d spent, you had realized that you didn’t really mind looking bad in front of Morgan or Emily or Hotch or really anyone on the team. Almost anyone. With an increasing amount of discomfort, you had realized you didn't want to look bad in front of Spencer. Of course, he’d never judge you, but you wanted to look good for him. For your best friend.

And he told you your hair looked nice.

You smiled to yourself.

Garcia turned to you with a look of shock on her face. Had that been anyone else, she was sure you would have curled up in a ball beneath her desk and would not have left until every single other person had left the Federal Bureau of Investigation, but you hadn’t, and she smirked.

Oh, she knew where this was going.

———

To put it lightly, it had not been the best of mornings.

It seemed that everything that could’ve gone wrong did, so you burst past the glass doors of the BAU six minutes late with a coffee-covered shirt, mud-stained pants, soggy shoes, and a most miserable attitude. Hotch, while a sympathetic man, was still your boss with rules to follow and when you stumbled into the bullpen, gave a pointed stare between you and the clock, and you nodded sullenly. You understood his silent admonition, but knowing that he was even slightly disappointed in you, made your knees want to buckle. Swallowing around the slug in your throat, you set your bag down beside your chair and noticed a foreign object sitting on your desk. Interest thoroughly piqued, you reached forward to find it was a book with a satin ribbon tied on it.

It truly was a beautiful book with a deep crimson hardcover and the kind of deckled edges that you loved. Running your fingers along the rough-hewn pages, you finally noted the title, and you gasped. Beloved by Toni Morrison. Your favorite. The cursive words curved in black on the cover to match the ribbon, and you carefully traced the curling letters, wondering where this gorgeous book could have come from.

In the desk across from yours, Spencer watched the scene in front of him with a grin. He couldn’t help but feel pleased at the look of awe on your face as you inspected the book with careful fingers and a gentle gaze, and his heart swelled more and more the longer he looked. “Did you know that Margaret Garner, the woman the character Sethe is based on, her trial was used as part of an effort to dismantle the Fugitive Slave Act?” Your eyes flickered up to meet his, and those stupid freaking butterflies erupted in the pit of your stomach as you realized who had gifted you the book. “The presiding judge didn’t accept her lawyer’s argument that the act violated the right to religious freedom, but it was still somewhat of a turning point in the movement to strike down the law.”

“I did not know that, but thank you. For the fact and the book.”

“You’re welcome.” He had to avert his eyes from your strong gaze because he thought he might melt otherwise.

“Please don’t misinterpret this as me being ungrateful because I’m so, so thankful, but why?”

He shrugged, “I was just in the book store, and it made me think of you.” No, he didn’t keep an eye out specifically for this book on his weekly trip to the bookstore by his apartment after you had briefly mentioned your love of Ms. Morrison’s metaphors. And he definitely didn’t ask the owner Alice if she would let him know if she ever got any new copies.

Frankly, you were at a loss for words. Combing back through your conversations with him, you tried to remember when you had talked about the book, but you couldn’t come up with anything other than a couple words tossed briefly here and there. Suppose it wasn’t really the fact that he had heard, but the fact that he had listened. He listened and remembered things about you, little things tucked in the back of his brain, and it was how he thought about you even when you weren’t around. So, you clutched the book to your chest tightly as if it could meld with your heart and let your thoughts rage with the implications for a minute before smothering your mushy grin and tucking the book into your bag.

(Later, you pulled it out on your ride home on the metro. Spencer had already gotten off at his stop a few minutes before, so you took this moment of solitude to revel in the glory of your new gift. Every time you smoothed a hand over the cover, your mind was overwhelmed with what-ifs. What if he felt the same? What if his stomach rumbled with the same butterflies when you looked at him? What if this means he likes you as more than…. And abruptly, you were doused in doubt once again, muzzling those dangerous, rearing hypotheticals. This was a path that would only lead to disappointment.

Those thoughts only got worse when you read his inscription, though:

Dear (Y/N/N),

I hope you find great joy in reacquainting yourself with the graces of Ms. Morrison’s elegant prose in this new copy. I was inspired by your praise and read this classic again, and I can say that I definitely understand your veneration of her story-telling. Hopefully, we can discuss it soon, so I can try to see all of the details that you so admire. You are always much better at appreciating the finer things in life.

She says that, “something that is loved is never lost.”

I hope you know that you will never be lost to me.

Sincerely,

Spencer

(P.S. I wrote this in pencil, so you can erase and have the clean copy you wanted.)

You would never erase it.)

———

“Hey, are you alright?”

You sat at your desk with your head in your hands. Your responding “no” came out muffled.

Spencer frowned and sat on the edge of your desk. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Running your hands over your face, you finally met his gaze. His eyes were soft as they searched your own, and the expression on his face was not of pity or frustration but empathy, and of course, he was just being his sweet self. Your eyes watered in response, and his heart clenched at the sight. You shifted your eyes somewhere else, anywhere else. “Uh, no.”

It was clearly a lie.

Furrowing his brows at your obfuscation, he scanned your face for any indication of what might be the problem. A small sigh. He came up with nothing. “Alright,” he conceded hesitantly. “May I ask what is wrong?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

You stared down at the files neatly ordered on your desk, trying to mentally shoo him away with the sheer force of your willpower alone. But Spencer Reid was a stubborn man, and you knew this, and you also knew he wasn’t leaving until he knew you were alright. So, you both sat in the silence of the bullpen that only accompanied the arrival of midnight. The glow of your lamp bathed the vicinity in a warm yellow, and the tick of the nearby clock rattled around your chest as you attempted fruitlessly to subdue your incessant thoughts. He was close enough that you could hear the soft susurration of his exhales as his eyes flitted about the room to give you some sort of breathing room, and you shut yours for a moment to appreciate this moment of peace before the inevitable catastrophe to follow.

“I’m—uh, not okay.”

Finally turning back to you with a mildly surprised expression (he didn’t expect you to say anything so soon. Or so bluntly.), he offered you one of his signature tight-lipped smiles as encouragement to continue.

“I’m kind of really struggling…” you trailed off, gaze empty, ensnared in your thoughts.

Ever the gentleman with persistence that could last a thousand years, he gently prompted, “With…?”

A strong gulp and eyes squeezed shut. “With you.”

Well, that was not the answer Spencer was expecting. He felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him, and he was hollow and shaken and in pain. Gaping, he fumbled hopelessly for an answer, trying to find some reason you could be upset with him. He had always thought you two were the best of friends; he’d never doubted that before. How could he have missed this?

Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, he strained to ask, “Uh—um, what—what did I do?”

Upon witnessing his struggle, you quickly amended your previous statement. “No, no, no, no, no! I’m not mad at you, well, I kind of am, but you don’t need to feel bad, it’s not your fault.”

“I’m not really sure what to make of that.”

You huffed a sigh and covered your face with your hands in a poor attempt to try to hide the blush rapidly coloring your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I just—you’re so nice!”

Now Spencer was really confused. “You’re mad at me...because you think I’m nice?”

“Yes, Spencer! You’re so nice, and it makes me incredibly frustrated. You see this?” You picked up a book from your desk and waved it frantically. A little intimidated by your crazed look, he nodded timidly. “Do you recognize this book?”

“It’s a special edition of Beloved by Toni Morrison.”

“It’s the special edition of my favorite book that you bought for me because you know how much I love this book.”

Spencer looked like a deer in the headlights. “You always said that your book at home was so messy with your annotations and that a fresh copy would have been nice.”

“You didn’t even buy it for my birthday or a special occasion! You just saw it in the store and said that you thought of me and had to buy it. That’s so unbelievably thoughtful! Not to mention the fact that I can barely look at fruit snacks now without tearing up. And—and the other day! When I got my haircut, I hated it, but I came in the next day, and you were the first person to tell me you liked it. You weren’t even lying to make me feel better; I’m a profiler, and I know that you were telling the truth. And it took no effort or thought because Spencer, you are the most kind-hearted and compassionate and generous person I’ve ever met. You are so—so genuinely good.

“No, you are the best. You are the best person I know,” you stated with finality, holding his stare with an unshakeable firmness. It was the first time you truly looked at him all night, and his heart felt like it was going to expand past his ribcage and burst open like a balloon. Your resolve melted though and your voice dropped to a near whisper. “And you’re not just nice. You’re nice to me. Which just makes it so hard.”

You deflated, withering into your seat.

“Makes what hard?”

“It makes it so much harder for me to not fall in love with you.”

Stunned silence.

Until it was shattered by a hiccup, and Spencer finally noticed the tears leaking from the corner of your eyes, and he tried, he tried so hard to puzzle through all of this new information and the fact that you just admitted you’re falling in love with him, and for some reason, you’re crying? He couldn’t even get his stupid genius brain to come with a single word before you started stumbling into an apology. “I know that’s not what you want to hear because we’re supposed to be friends, and I know that you’re just a good person, so you’re nice to everyone. Believe me, I know. And I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable, but I couldn’t keep holding on to this by myself, and I knew if anyone would let me down easy, it’d be you.” You chewed on your lip and avoided his stare at all costs. “So, I’m sorry.” You sniffled.

The quiet that followed weighed heavy on your chest, and you couldn’t seem to breathe. You had expected rejection; you hadn’t expected complete silence. And this was somehow so much more unbearable. In a voice so faint you weren’t even sure if he could hear, you begged, “Please say something.”

A beat.

“(Y/N), I love you.”

A whisper just barely verging on hopeful, “What?”

“(Y/N), I—I love you so much.” His heart felt like it was in his throat, and his voice broke slightly as he stood. “You’re the first person I think about when I get up in the morning, and you’re the last person before I fall asleep. I dread going home at the end of the day because you’re not there. When you’re not with me, even if you’re in the other room, it feels like I’ve forgotten something, and for the longest time, I couldn’t figure out what I was missing, but it was you. You consume my every thought, which is saying something because I think a lot. Actually, it’s kind of funny,” he chuckled somewhat morosely, “I truly cannot comprehend the fact that you don’t know how much I’ve liked you, how long I’ve loved you because it feels like it’s so obvious and so potent that it seeps out of me, whether I want it to or not.

“And I’m nice to you because no one else is more deserving of kindness. I’d be lucky if you let me be the one to remind you of that, everyday. Because you’re the best person I know.” You looked up at him with shining eyes and the meagerest beginnings of a smile, and he just beamed right back. With a creased brow, he ventured, “You’re my favorite person in the world, you know that, right?

Failing to suppress your growing grin, you nodded your head meekly. “Yeah, I know.”

“Good.”

Spencer felt pleased with himself until he remembered that he had forgotten the most important part. “Would you like to get dinner with me sometime? Like a date?”

Standing from your seat, you wrapped your arms around his neck and burrowed your face into his chest, and he immediately reciprocated, clutching you as close as he could. “I would love that.” It came out muffled, but he understood well enough as he pressed his face into your neck. And you stood like that for a few moments, just existing together, and for the first time in a long time, nothing hurt. There was no worry of unrequited yearning or pain of terrible pining; there were just two people who finally knew peace. Knew that the person they loved most in the world loved them back. Neither ever wanted to leave.

However, sometimes necessary duties like breathing take precedence, so you pulled back from him enough to finally claim some air. Your hands slid down his front, resting on his chest, his on your waist, and you just stared at him. The most beautiful face you’d ever seen looking right back at you with the same expression of awe that made you realize just how lucky you were. And slowly, hesitantly, you both leaned in ever so slightly with heads wavering and tension buzzing. Gingerly and sweetly. Neither could commit, but no one could pull away from fast-approaching revelation.

Finally, a breath away.

“Can I kiss you?”

You nodded.

When your lips met, your chest heaved with your eager, romantic hopes and dreams bubbling up near your lungs, finally coming to fruition. His hands came up to caress your jaw, and you leaned into him. His touch was so gentle, but he also touched you with intention. For once in his life, Spencer Reid felt no hesitation, kissing the girl of his dreams. And you felt held by him. You were bursting at the seams of your existence, swollen with infatuation and tenderness, yet totally and completely encompassed by him. You could shatter into a million tiny, little pieces, and he would be there to collect every shard. How cheesy.

Both of you grinned into the kiss; the sickly sweet itch in your heart was contagious. You finally released him, and wanting to savor the moment, you tucked yourself into the crook of his neck, so his chin could rest on the crown of your head. “I love you a lot, Dr. Reid.”

He hummed in agreement.

It didn’t need saying.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #i hope yall see that the sentences that are syntactically similar and the parallel settings are intentional and are like stupid attempts at #motifs and that im not a stupid person :/#also #lol wtf was that ending #anyways #yo this may or may not be based on problems i be having irl #i just fall in love with anyone who is remotely kind to me #lmao #anyone else desperate for affection?? gang??#also r there any toni stans out there i luv my queen #is anyone out there? i just want friends ahh #ALSO DOES ANYONE ELSE HAVE THE OVERWHELMING URGE TO DEVOUR THEIR GUMMY VITAMINS????? IS THAT JUST ME????

619 notes · View notes

missdawnandherdusk · 4 years ago

Text

The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe

Hufflepuff!Reader X Draco

The tricky thing is yesterday we were just children

But now we've stepped into a cruel world

Where everybody stands and keeps score

So here you are, two steps ahead and staying on guard

Every lesson forms a new scar

They never thought you'd make it this far

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Summary: Planning for something in theory is easy... putting it into practice? That’s where the weak are separated from the strong.

A/n: Hello my lovelies! So here is the second part to the last chapter!! If I had posted it all at once it would have been over 20k words so... yeah. I split them up. Also, this gets pretty dark and well, we all know how HBP ends... so I guess that’s a warning. And to add, this went in a completely different direction than I planned, but now it’s closer to my original idea so... Let me know what you guys think! Seriously, I thrive on your approval. (Also, I’d like to see if someone notices a MAJOR problem for these two kids... because I barely caught it myself)

“Oh, my darling boy,” Narcissa crooned, nearing Draco’s bedside. She took his hand though he was in a spell induced coma and could not hear her.

“I’m so sorry Narcissa,” I teared up. “I...”

“Snape explained it all my dear,” She consoled, reaching out for me. “You have nothing to apologize for,”

I all but collapsed in her arms, breaking down into tears as she held me. Though Abby and Pansy—as well as many others including Ernie, Blaise, Greg, Vincent, and Hannah—had comforted me and offered me a solace, it was different having a mother there to hold me and tell me it was going to be alright.

“It was awful,” I sniveled. “I thought... I thought...” I began to hiccup with the lack of oxygen due to my tears.

Narcissa shushed me softly and rubbed my back in a soothing rhythm.

“You’re alright darling,” Her voice was gentle. “Everything’s going to be alright,”

She stayed for the remainder of the night and came back the next day. I was only allowed a day off from classes before I had to return though Draco had still not woken. Though I knew there would be rumors and whispers, and though I expected to have to retell the harrowing story again and again, everyone already seemed to know. And more surprisingly, each student I came across was sympathetic and kind to me and even towards Draco, wanting to know how he was faring. Yet the thing that took me back the most was the amount of Gryffindors who offered their sympathies to Draco, rather than siding with their own Golden Boy. Even McGonagall offered her sympathies.

And for the most part, I completely ignored Harry. The best I could. Which... well. I’d like to say that I did, but I can’t. To be fair, he did try to talk to me on my first day back, two days after his attempted murder.

“Y/n,” He rushed out in the Great Hall as I sat down with Pansy and Abby.

“You need to stay away from me,” I gritted out, glowering at him. “You’re a coward!”

“Look, I didn’t know what the spell would do, okay?”

“No! That’s not okay!” I stood. “You almost killed him! And you would have! Why in Merlin’s name would you use a spell if you didn’t know what it did!?” Bristling, Abby had to place her hand on my arm before I drew my own wand. Her gentle hand allowed me a moment to take a deep breath and cam myself, ever so slightly. “Just get out of here Harry. Don’t... don’t talk to me,”

“Come on, mate, let’s go,” Ron pulled Harry’s arm back, sensing the rising tension in his best friend.

“You’re... you’re not really going to...” Abby asked softly as we sat back down. “About being the bad guy?” She was almost timid to ask.

I sighed and shook my head.

“No,” I admitted. “I just said it because I was mad and scared. I’m not gonna go off and join the Dark Lord,” a sad smile played at my lips. “I... I feel like I have no choice... This path was forced into me because of Precious Potter and I... I don’t want to be angry. I don’t want to be broken... but I don’t want to be walked on,”

“And you don’t have to be,” Pansy encouraged. “We all have your back,” Pansy nodded to the Hall. “We’re on your side,”

“I don’t want there to be sides!” I dismayed, scrubbing my face. “I don’t want to be divided because we still do have the same enemy and...” I let out a sharp breath in defeat. “When did it all become so complicated?”

Abby said nothing but wrapped an arm around me, soothingly rubbing my shoulder.

“It’ll all work out, you’ll see,” She encouraged, sharing a look with Pansy. “For all of us.”

After dinner, as I always did, I went and saw Draco. His steady grey eyes trailed me as I rounded his cot.

“Hey,” He offered softly as I slipped my hand into his. Despite his many blankets and long sleeves, his hands were still ice cold.

“Hey,” I echoed sadly. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” There was little confidence in his voice. “How’s class without me?” I scoffed and stared at the intricate carvings on the pillars of the infirmary.

“It’s not the same... nothing is the same...” The depressing thought left my lips before I could stop it. “I do miss walking to class with you though,” A small smile played at my lips at my gaze returned to him.

Wordlessly I reached out and brushed a few stray hairs from his face, my fingers ghosting over the pale pink scar that ran along the side of his face. Maybe fortune was on our side because though his skin was marred with scars, the spell hadn’t left permanent damage to his senses. His skin was still chilled under my touch.

“You’re still cold,” I murmured. “Do you want tea? Another blanket? I’m sure there’s a warming potion around here somewhere,”

“I’m alright,” His lips tugged upward. “Pomfrey and Snape said that it might happen, because of the Dark Magic...”

Worrying my lip, I nodded and intertwined my fingers with his pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

“What’s on your mind?” His question was soft.

“Nothing and everything,” I smiled. “Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing... but loved most of all, when she went to sleep, to hear the Angel of Music...”

“Haven’t read that one in a while,” Draco mused softly. “I think they’re having a show in London over the summer holiday...”

I wanted to snap at him. I wanted to say that it was stupid to think about the summer. It was foolish to think we’d survive the semester. That going to the opera shouldn’t be a plan we made on some false hope that we’d actually make it.

But I didn’t.

Instead I entertained the idea. Just for a while. Even if it would hurt later.

“You’d take me then?” I mused.

“Well, of course,” Draco smiled, enjoying that I was playing along. “Of course, Pansy and Abby would come with us,”

I laughed softly at the thought. The false memory of the four of us in some opera house amidst twinkling lights, dressed lavishly, laughing and having fun. I could see myself on Draco’s arm as he held his head high, smiling soft at my antics. I could almost hear Pansy scolding Abby for her poor etiquette. I could almost feel the thrum of the music in my soul and the magic of the performance before me as I was enraptured again by another story.

“I’d like that,” I whispered softly, tears stinging my eyes.

“Then think of it done,”

A silence fell between us.

“Can I stay here tonight?” I asked softly.

“Would you expect me to say anything but yes?” He quirked an eyebrow.

Curled up in his arms, again I thought of everything and nothing, utterly exhausted—mentally, emotionally, physically. Draco still offered a sweet comfort that I had never found in anyone else. A comfort that quelled my anxieties and allowed me to sleep soundly.

“Told you she would be here,” I heard Pansy whisper harshly. “It’s not like it’s the first time they’ve done it,”

“Yes, yes, you’re so smart,” Abby said flatly. “They’re still precious, aren’t they? Even now,”

There wasn’t a response. I shifted through my sleep logged thoughts and blinked my eyes open. Draco was still fast asleep beside me, his mouth hanging slightly open as gentle breaths passed through his lips. Abby and Pansy were forgotten as I watched Draco bathed I the soft morning light.

“Hey Feathers, Dumbledore wants to see you,” Abby nudged my arm. “I don’t think it’s good either.”

Fear and dread struck my heart as I froze.

“Did he say why?” I squeaked out, carefully slipping out of the bed, not to rouse Draco.

“No, just that it was a serious matter,” Abby frowned at me. “Are you okay?”

“Do you really want the answer to that?” I mumbled. “Please stay with him, tell him where I am when he wakes up. And if he tries to come and find me, make sure he doesn’t. He’s still healing,”

Timidly I made my way up to Dumbledore’s office, a list of a thousand things that could go wrong sprinting through my mind, willing them all true. Those thoughts however, changed and funneled when I saw that I wasn’t alone in his office with him. No, Harry, Snape, and McGonagall were all present along with the old headmaster.

“Miss Y/l/n, thank you for joining us,” Dumbledore smiled kindly.

“Yeah... okay,” I closed the door behind me. “What’s this about?”

“What happened in Myrtle’s bathroom,” Snape informed with a monotone voice. “Though I have thoroughly explained that what Harry did to Mr. Malfoy was much worse and you acted in self- defense,”

“Uh... okay...” My eyebrows furrowed. “What exactly did I do?”

“What did you do? You used an Unforgivable!” McGonagall dismayed.

“You tortured me!” Harry exclaimed.

“You attempted to murdered Draco!” I shot back. “What was I supposed to do!?”

“As I said, she acted in self-defense.” Snape cut the tension with his calmed voice.

“That wasn’t self-defense, that was malicious intent,” Harry growled. “You have to mean the curse for it to do any damage,”

“Oh yes, and I’m sure your use of Dark Magic is completely justified,” I snapped, crossing my arms. “And are you really going to play the victim when I have every right to loathe you?”

“Miss Y/l/n,” Dumbledore interjected. “We are not here to point fingers, but rather here the entire story. Both sides.”

“Why isn’t Sprout here?” I looked around. “She’s my Head of House... shouldn’t she be here?”

“This isn’t a House matter,” Snape clarified. “This is a matter of the Order,”

“Of which you are a member,” McGonagall finished. “Now please, your side of the story,”

My mind processed this information then I began my tale.

“Draco was having a panic attack, so I led him to the nearest quiet place that I could find—”

“Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom?” McGonagall clarified and I nodded.

“I was comforting Draco—walking him through grounding and Harry burst into the bathroom. Draco got defensive of me, drawing his wand, and Harry cast a hex at the two of us... I remember telling Draco to stop... there was water everywhere. And then Harry,” I glanced over to the golden boy who was sulking in his chair. “Cast whatever awful spell that was. I didn’t think. The Unforgivable was the first spell that came to mind...” I paused, drawing in a sharp breath. “Then there was so much blood. Merlin...” I wrung my hands together in a desperate attempt to wash my clean hands of blood that was no longer there. “I did cast the spell, and I’m not going to apologize for it. I’m sorry for hurting you, but not for defending Draco,”

“I see,” Dumbledore nodded. “Well, it seems that all’s well that ends well,”

Harry and I both sputtered, glaring each other down.

“She should be going to Azkaban!” Harry exclaimed.

“Oh, you should really keep your comments to yourself Potter,” I snarled.

“If I remember correctly Mr. Potter, you also cast an Unforgivable at Bellatrix not last year,” Dumbledore raised an ancient eyebrow at a fuming Harry who instantly fizzled out.

“You cast an Unforgivable and you have the nerve to accuse me! Oh, stars above Harry where does it end with you!?”

“That doesn’t count! She was trying to kill me! She killed Sirius!”

I stared at him in quelled anger. “Funny,” My voice was calm and even. “I could have sworn I did it for the same reasons,” I watched the color drain from his face. “But I get it, I’m not the Chosen One, I don’t get free passes, do I?”

“Miss Y/n,” McGonagall warned.

“Am I free to go? I need to get back to Draco,” I looked to Snape.

He gave a seldom and I rushed out of the office, practically running back to the hospital wing. Abby caught me in her arms, stilling me outside the door.

“Hey, talk to me,” She demanded. “What happened?”

“Harry needs to mind his own damn business,” I growled. “He told that I used an Unforgivable against him after he tried to kill Draco. After he already used one last year! And he has the nerve—”

“Y/n?” Draco’s shaky voice was a lot closer than I thought it would be. It had to mean that he was up and walking.

“Dray?” My anger softened to concern and hope. “Draco what are you doing up?”

“You could have given us more of a warning about how much he would fight us after telling him that Dumbledore wanted to speak to you,” Pansy muttered, Draco’s arm slung around her shoulder.

“Sorry?” I offered, taking Draco’s weight, freeing Pansy. “You need to stay in bed,” I scolded him softly.

“How could you think that I would? How could you just leave?” His voice was trembling and uncertain.

“I know, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” I led him back to his cot, setting him down gently. “Forgive me?”

He nodded as I pulled the blanket back over him. Pansy and Abby aided me in getting him settled again.

“This is so stupid,” He groaned. “I should be there with you,”

“A few more days, my love,” I comforted softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Then you’ll be back beside me,”

__________________________________

Draco’s eyes met the plated silver. His reflection mocking him. His pale skin was decorated— was that the right word? Ruined, perhaps—with faded pinkish scars.

Of course, his mother had been livid. Visiting him in the hospital wing more days than not until he was medically cleared to go back to class, she was there, pacing, muttering, threatening, demanding.

Your sentiments matched his mother’s but ever since the fateful day that Harry had taken him inches from death, you had gone silent with a cold ruthless fury. A look that only faded from your eyes when they met his. Then adoration was evident. Love and dedication was evident. Kindness.

As he stared at his reflection, the phantom memory of pain danced along his skin.

“Hey there handsome,” Your gentle voice caught his attention. Catching the sight of you in the mirror he turned, leaning against the vanity.

“I don’t remember you ever calling me that before,” He mused, slightly teasing—part of him wondering if you were just saying it to make him feel better.

“I know you Draco,” You pressed off the doorjamb you were leaning against and took his hands. “Self-assured, confident, absolutely gorgeous,” A smirk hinted at your lips. “But I know you’re unsteady right now.” Gently your fingers traced the scars on his hands trailing up his arm making him shudder.

“And what of you?” He asked softly, bringing your hand to his lips pressing a kiss there softly, reveling in the warmth of your skin; something that he had lost, his skin retaining an icy chill with the dark magic that plagued it.

“What of me?” You countered softly. “I’m quite assured that I’m beautiful to those who matter to me... call it vanity,”

A chuckle escaped his lips, your words reminding him of Pansy. “No, that’s no mystery. You are stunning,” Your arms draped lazily around his shoulders as you waited for him to continue. “Are you okay? I know you, and you’ve been... I don’t know. Withdrawn? Distracted?”

He feared the anger that flashed in your eyes until you seemed to blink it away. With the fluttering of your eyelashes the ire turned to sorrow. Your shoulders rose and fell with the deep breath you took.

“I’m tired of being walked on. I’m tired of people underestimating me. Of thinking I’m harmless or weak.” You paused but then your eyes met his pleading, “I know who I am, I really do. I’m just tired of other people not seeing it.”

Draco smiled at you, reaching up and caressing your cheek delicately. “And?” He knew you had more on your mind.

“I’ve had enough of Harry thinking he can get away with anything.”

Draco nodded. Before his prejudices against Potter had been just that—prejudices. Now? Now they went so much deeper. The hurt and pain that Harry had caused to you and him was something that couldn’t be brushed off. Draco’s anger matched yours when thinking of Potter, but maybe the difference was he had never seen it from the outside looking in.

“He almost killed you Draco,” Your voice wavered. “If Snape hadn’t shown up, you would have...” Tears pricked your eyes and you quickly shut them. “I can’t... I can’t lose you... and I never want to feel helpless like that again,”

Draco cupped your face softly, your eyes meeting his as quiet streams of tears trailed down your cheeks.

“And you won’t have to, but my love,” He sighed softly and pressed a kiss to your forehead before drawing you into his arms, “I don’t want you to lose yourself... I know you’re angry, and I know you’re scared... I know you wish it would all just go away, because I do too,” He sighed deeply. “But we can’t lose focus on who we are,”

“When did you become the wise grounded one?” You pouted into his shoulder, earning a small chuckle from him.

“Some girl brought me back down to Earth,” He mused.

“Must have been some girl,” He could hear the smile in your voice.

“Oh, she’s quite wonderful, I think you’d love her. I know I do,”

“Sap,” You accused, smiling up at him.

“And yet you love me anyway,”

“I do,” You pressed up on your toes, your lips brushing against his softly.

The day that he returned to class, as expected, he got plenty of stares. Students gawking at him and whispering behind his back. Not that it was new for him. But maybe you were right—he was unsteady. You still held his hand in the halls though, and still looked at him as you would a piece of artwork. And whenever he became uncertain about his appearance your gently smile and soft kisses created phantom memories that kept him grounded.

“Ginny and Harry are together,” Hannah gave off hand one day at dinner.

Draco’s eyebrows raised in surprised. Your face soured a bit as your eyes drifted over to the Gryffindor table where sure enough Harry and Ginny were sitting together amidst their friends. He pressed a kiss to your temple, pulling you a bit closer. The pout didn’t leave your face, but your focus reverted back to your friends before you.

Draco hadn’t spoken to or gone near Harry since he had been back to class. The only real struggle was Potions, but Harry seemed content on ignoring him, and with Ernie as Draco’s partner, Draco’s thoughts weren’t consumed with Harry. Ernie was actually quite pleasant in class, Draco had to admit. Though he was a bit reckless and impulsive in a childlike manor, but he wasn’t impossible for Draco to work with. In fact, Draco almost preferred to work with Ernie because Ernie didn’t treat him any differently after his near-death experience. It was a vein of normalcy.

“This should work,” You lowered your wand, running your hand over the mended Vanishing Cabinet. “We should be done,”

His eyes met yours. There was hope in your warm eyes. Draco gave a seldom nod and grabbed an apple from his bag. It was the first test. Though weeks ago, the apple had made it to Borgin and Burkes, the live finches you had sent hadn’t survived. You mourned the small birds and buried them beneath your tree by the lake.

The apple was closed behind the wardrobes doors and after counting to thirty, your hand gripped tightly in his, Draco opened the door again and saw that the apple had a slice cut out of it. You let out a steady breath and went to the golden wire cage, with gentle grace setting down the small bird into the wardrobe. You closed your eyes, refusing to watch as he closed the door this time. Thirty seconds again, he opened the door, and the small finch was there, staring up at the two of you, an apple slice in his mouth.

You let out a scream of excitement and joy as you gathered the bird into your hands and kissing its small head before setting it back in the cage to enjoy its treat.

The next was a crow, easily transfigured from a goblet. Draco ser the bird into the cabinet and closed the door yet again. The ruffling of wings faded for twenty seconds until he heard frantic cawing and agitated movements. Throwing open the door, the crow flew out. With a quick flick of your wand the crow was a goblet once more, falling harmlessly into the piles of rubbish around the two of you.

“I have to go,” You breathed out, words that he had been dreading.

“Y/n,” He refuted. “We don’t know if it’ll work for larger animals, Pinnae might not make it.”

“It worked for the crow,” You pointed out. “Pinnae can make it,”

“It’s too dangerous,”

“Draco,” You gave him a flat look. “I need to go,” You took his hands into yours. “It’ll be okay, I’ll be back. If not, I’ll just fly back here from Diagon Alley.”

“You make it sound so simple,” He nuzzled his nose to yours.

“Because it is,” You smiled, pressing your lips to his fleetingly. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

“Please be careful,” Draco dismayed as your morphed into Pinnae, fluttering into the base of the wardrobe.

Then he closed the door, trapping you in darkness. Thirty seconds had never been so long.

There was a knock on the door then it slowly opened. Your smiling face was shining as you crawled out of the cabinet.

“It works,” You breathed out, amazed.

“By Merlin it works!” Draco exclaimed, spinning you in his arms.

You laughed and held onto him tightly. The two of you celebrated with laughter that turned to tears. When the entire world seemed against you two, at least one thing went right.

“I love you,” You sniffled through tears.

“Stars, I love you too,” He breathed in the scent of you deeply, burying his head in your shoulder. “We’re gonna make it,” He was almost hopeful.

“We’re gonna make it,” You affirmed.

“Who’s there?”

You and Draco froze, staring at each other in paralyzing fear.

“Hello?” The voice called again.

You sagged and let out an aggravated groan. “It’s Trelawney,” Gritting your teeth you let go of him, sighing. “I’ll go see what she wants. You get to Snape and tell him we do this tonight.” There was fierce determination in your eyes.

Draco nodded and watched as you made your way toward the exit. He could hear your faint conversation with the professor. Giving you five minutes head start, Draco slipped from the Room of Hidden Things undetected.

“It’s done,” Draco panted out, catching his breath after nearly running to Snape’s office. “The raid has to be tonight,”

“I see,” Snape rose. “And you’re certain?”

You burst into the office just then, also out of breath. “Harry and Dumbledore are leaving to go find something called—”

“Silencio!” Snape casted the spell on you, proving you mute. Infuriated, Draco drew his wand, stepping between you and the professor. “Calm down, she’s in no harm,” Snape rolled his eyes and lifted the spell. “But be careful with what you speak. It is wise to hold your tongue.”

Fuming, you nodded still.

Draco lowered his wand and took your hand.

“Now, you both know the task ahead of you?” Snape questioned. Silent nods affirmed the question. “Very well. He will be pleased, Draco. Very pleased indeed.” Another silent moment passed. “You have twenty-three minutes.”

Draco took your hand and pulled you into the hallway and along the corridors.

“Go, find Abby. Warn your friends. Warn your house. No one needs to get hurt. We’re already doing enough damage,” His voice was soft and gentle as unshed tears lingered in his eyes.

“I love you,” Your voice broke as he cupped your face and pressed his lips to yours desperately.

The kiss was hasty and despairing. Though neither of you would admit it, you both knew that it was a kiss goodbye. The warmth of your breath against his was the last of your warmth that he expected. The urgency of your fingers in his hair was the last of your comfort that he sought. The taste of your mouth was the last of your sweetness that he accepted. The softness of your lips was the last of your peace that he pursued.

“Twenty-three minutes,” He breathed out before letting you go and heading down to the murky waters of the Slytherin Common Room.

The Mark on his arm burned and Draco knew that Snape had called the others of the raid. A plan set into motion long ago, now coming to fruition.

____________________________

“Y/n!” Abby called my name as you burst into the common room. “What’s going on?”

My friends were all gathered in the common room as Abby tossed to me something small and shiny. A galleon. My galleon. From D.A. I might have cursed.

“How does he even know?” I chucked the galleon into the fire, watching it ricochet a flurry of ashes. My eyes met Abby’s. “It’s tonight,”

She nodded, knowing what it meant, knowing what was expected of her. A plan made long ago, that was now set into motion.

“Okay, this is going to get very bad, very quickly.” My voice trembled as I looked at all of the horror-struck faces before me. “But please, I need you all to keep the younger years safe. I need you to stay out of the halls until Abby comes and gets you.”

“But what about you?” Ernie asked.

“Look, you’re going to hear things. Awful things about Draco and me. And I can’t deny them, nor should I ask for your forgiveness. But please,” Tears streamed down my face. “Believe that everything I’ve worked for... everything I’ve done has been for this family,” I looked around the room. “I don’t have much of one by blood, but you? All of you... you’ve always been my family. And Hogwarts is my home.”

Abby’s arms wrapped around me and I could no longer hold back my tears. Soon there was a massive comfort pile and I was in the center of it. My friends, my family all there, all holding me close.

“So, what do you need us to do?” Taylor asked. I wiped my eyes and stood tall.

“Someone get word to the Ravenclaws and the Gryffindors that they need to stay in their dorm. You all have about fifteen minutes to be completely locked down. Cast protection spells. Silencing spells. Comfort younger years. Distract them. Do not take an order from anyone unless it’s Abby. Make sure she is not under a spell before you listen to her.” I glanced over at her. “This is a grave matter and lives are on the line tonight. One of which is mine. I don’t know what will happen tonight, but I won’t be coming back. Not for some while.”

“But why?” I didn’t see where the question came from.

“It will all be revealed soon. I love you all. And I hope that you all can forgive me after tonight. No matter what you think of me, please, don’t forget: have courage and be kind.”

They all nodded. I rushed up to my room, changing quickly into dueling robes, pulling my silver cloak on.

“Are you okay?” Abby asked, tying her hair back.

“I’ll be fine,” I drew her in for a hug. “Please just get out alive,”

“You too kid,” Abby smiled weakly, taking my hand. “Sister for life,”

“Hufflepuffs for life,” I finished, looking back one last time before taking off through the window and into the night.

With a soft thud I landed on Draco’s floor. He was expecting me. We didn’t embrace another, but instead got to work.

“The Hufflepuffs?” He asked.

“Warned and locked down. Word was sent to Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. The Slytherins?”

“Secured.” Draco affirmed. “Seven minutes,”

“Okay,” I nodded. “The Mark,”

Draco looked out his opened window and chanted something short and unfamiliar to my ears and I watched as a snake coiled from the end of his wand in a thick green smoke and into the sky merging with a skull. I took his hand, standing beside him.

“I still don’t want to kill him,” Draco confessed. “But I’ll do anything to keep you safe,”

“Draco don’t worry about me. Your mother and I have a plan if things go wrong.” It was an easy lie as I met his confused grey eyes. I smiled softly. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

“The Astronomy tower,” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Go,”

I leapt out of his window again and circled the school, patrolling, watching two figures on brooms land on the tower I was destined for. The quiet night was eerily quiet as I landed, perched on a sill, watching Harry and a frail looking Dumbledore. I almost slipped out of Pinnae because of the regret that fluttered in my chest, but it was easily pushed aside.

I watched as Harry hurried over to the door leading to the spiral staircase, his hand just meeting the door as I heard running footsteps from the door opposite to Harry. My eyes trained and waiting for Draco missed whatever had caused Harry to keep fleeing.

“Expelliarmus!” Draco shouted, and I sprang into action, catching the wand in my claws and settling back on the sill.

Standing against the ramparts, very white in the face, Dumbledore still showed no sign of panic or distress. He merely looked across at his disarmer and said, “Good evening, Draco,”

Draco stepped forward glancing over to me then to the empty room. He was making sure that we were alone. I wanted to warn him that Harry was close, but I couldn’t not yet. Draco seemed to figure this out on his own however, as his eyes fell upon the second broom.

“Who else is here?” He demanded.

“A question I might ask you.” Dumbledore eyed me before his attention reverted back to Draco. “Surely you’re not acting alone,”

“No,” Draco said. “I’ve got backup.”

“I see,” Dumbledore said as if Draco’s actions were praiseworthy. “And won’t you join us Miss Y/n?”

Draco glanced to me, panicked. That wasn’t a part of the plan. I wasn’t to be human at all. No one was supposed to know that I was there. Not the Order or the Death Eaters and certainly not Bellatrix.

“I know that it’s you my dear, you might as well join us,”

It was a wildcard neither Draco nor I were expecting. Draco gave a seldom nod, looking utterly defeated. Against my better judgement, I morphed back human, wand in my hand as I took my place at Draco’s side, adrenaline and anxiety threading through my chest.

“You always were such a talented witch,” Dumbledore praised. “I assume you had a hand in this plan, finding a way to get the other Death Eaters into my school?”

“Yes,” I answered, my voice shaking.

“You do complicate things don’t you my dear,” Dumbledore’s eyes fell upon me. “To think if Mr. Malfoy never had you, what would have become of him.”

“I don’t dwell on what might have been,” My eyes narrowed at the frail headmaster. “But rather what is to come,”

“Ah yes, your little job,” A twisted smile curled on his face. “Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy,” said Dumbledore softly.

Confusion flitted across my face. Did Dumbledore know what we were here to do? How long had he known? Why the bloody hell hadn’t he said anything? A tense silence fell between us and I could faintly hear the fighting of Death Eaters and The Order occur somewhere below. I winced at the mental images.

“Draco, you are not a killer.” Dumbledore smiled. The words sounded cruel coming from his mouth rather than mine. Condescending.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” Draco snarled, gripping his wand tightly.

“Oh yes, I do,” said Dumbledore mildly. “You almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley—”

“That wasn’t us,” I interjected. “You really think I’d allow that?”

“Well you are here to kill me, are you not?”

Silently I seethed, gritting my teeth.

“It wasn’t us,” Draco replied coldly. “And we never figured out who it was,”

“Very curious,” Dumbledore mused. “But you were saying . . . yes, you have managed to introduce Death Eaters into my school, which, I admit, I thought impossible...How did you do it?”

Neither of us said anything. The echoes of the fight below were deafening. My blood ran cold, torn between who I needed to win. One to protect Draco and I. One to protect my family.

“Perhaps you ought to get on with the job alone,” Dumbledore taunted. “What if your backup has been thwarted by my guard? As you have perhaps realized, there are members of the Order of the Phoenix here tonight too,”

“The Order is here?” Frowning I met ancient blue eyes.

“You think I wouldn’t have back up at my own school?”

Betrayal washed through me. I had no idea that the Order was here. That they were the guard against the raid that was merely a plan b. I never wanted them to get hurt. Why wasn’t I told that they were here? Wasn’t I apart of the Order as well? Then it dawned on me.

“You... you manipulated me!” I shouted. “You never wanted me as a part of the Order! You just wanted to keep an eye one me! Never for one moment did you believe in me!”

Draco winced at the realization of my words, as he took my hand, grounding me.

“Who was I to go against your father’s wishes?”

“My father is dead because he believed in you,” I spat.

“He died for you. Not me.”

I growled dangerously.

“But never mind all of that,” Dumbledore waved the thought as if it were something easily dismissed. “And after all, you don’t really need help... I have no wand at the moment... I cannot defend myself.”

I ran my fingers over Dumbledore’s wand in my hand. It was urging me on, daring me to cast an Unforgivable. Begging me to. If I didn’t get my fury under control, Draco might not have to kill Dumbledore. Because I would.

A silence fell again.

“I see,” said Dumbledore patronizingly. “You are afraid to act until they join you.”

“I’m not afraid!” Draco snarled, though he still made no move to hurt Dumbledore. “It’s you who should be scared!”

“But why? I don’t think you will kill me, Draco. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe... So, tell me, while we wait for your friends... how did you two smuggle them in here? It seems to have taken you a long time to work out how to do it.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I hissed. “We had the plan since this past summer. We could have easily done it by Christmas, but Draco and I deserved another year together at our home,” My words dripped venom as they met the crisp air.

“We had to mend that broken Vanishing Cabinet that no one’s used for years. The one Montague got lost in last year.” Draco explained because anger claimed my voice, deeming me silent.

“Ah.” Dumbledore’s sigh was half a groan. He closed his eyes for a moment. “That was clever... There is a pair, I take it?”

“We don’t have to explain anything to you,” I whispered, my eyes closed as I tried to reign in my anger.

“I see,” Dumbledore smiled. “But I suppose that I was incorrect when I assumed that you were not sure you would succeed in mending the cabinet and acted rashly? It does leave me to wonder who did almost kill Ms. Bell and Mr. Weasley.”

Draco’s grip on my hand tightened. He didn’t like the loose end any more than I did. “If you suspected us, why didn’t you stop us then?” Draco demanded.

“I tried, Draco. Professor Snape has been keeping watch over you on my orders —”

“He hasn’t been doing your orders, he promised my mother--”

“Of course, that is what he would tell you, Draco, but—”

“But nothing!” I interrupted. “I think Narcissa means a bit more to Snape than you do,”

“We must agree to differ on that, my dear. It so happens that I trust Professor Snape —”

“That’s marvelous,” I deadpanned. “But trust isn’t the same as loyalty,”

“Isn’t it though?” The old professor seemed as if he were having a hard time standing on his own without the help of the railing. I almost offered my aid. “But as for being bout to kill me, Draco, you have had several long minutes now, we are quite alone, I am more defenseless than you can have dreamed of finding me, and still you have not acted...”

Draco glanced to me and a gave a soft smile. The fear and uncertainty in his eyes caused my anger to morph into a fierce protection.

“I see,” Dumbledore went on. “I wonder why Voldemort has let you live so long Miss Y/n. You really do hinder Draco from what is expected of him,”

“Shut your mouth!” Draco snapped. “She is the cleverest, most brilliant witch I’ve met! If anything, she pushes me past what I should be and into who I am!”

“And who are you Mr. Malfoy? Are you a killer?” Neither of us answered. “There is little time, one way or another,” said Dumbledore. “So, let us discuss your options, Draco.”

“My options!” Draco scoffed. “I’m standing here with a wand—I’m about to kill you—”

“My dear boy, let us have no more pretense about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first disarmed me, you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means.”

Draco’s aspiration to kill Dumbledore might be fading, but my desire for it was growing with each moment that passed as I untangled a web of lies and manipulation in silence about the frail headmaster before me.

“I haven’t got any options!” Draco despaired. “I’ve got to do it! He’ll kill me! He’ll kill her! He’ll kill my mother!”

“I appreciate the difficulty of your position,” said Dumbledore. “Why else do you—”

“No,” The fury in my voice was cold and unforgiving. “Don’t. You. Dare. Don’t you dare make yourself the martyr. You have no idea the hell Draco and I have been through together. Your chosen one almost killed him for Merlin’s sake, and you have nerve to offer a false kindness? As if you were blameless? As if you understood?”

“No, you can’t,” Draco agreed to the weight of my words.

“Come over to the right side,” Dumbledore continued as if I had never spoken, “and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her likewise. Your father is safe at the moment in Azkaban...When the time comes, we can protect him too. Come over to the right side, you are not a killer...”

“Like you protected my father?” I whispered softly. “When will you see we are on the side of good. But we’re not on your side.”

Dumbledore did not speak. His mouth was open, still trembling, as if to find the right words to manipulate us back to his side.

But suddenly footsteps were thundering up the stairs, Draco and I turned, in fear. We were both buffeted out of the way as four black robes burst through the door.

It seemed the Death Eaters had won the fight below.

A lumpy-looking man with an odd lopsided leer gave a wheezy giggle. “Dumbledore cornered!” he said, and he turned to a stocky little woman who looked as though she could be his sister and who was grinning eagerly. “Dumbledore wandless, Dumbledore alone! Well done, Draco, well done!”

“Good evening, Amycus,” said Dumbledore calmly, as though welcoming the man to a tea party. “And you’ve brought Alecto too... Charming...”

The woman gave an angry little titter. “Think your little jokes’ll help you on your deathbed then?” she jeered.

“Jokes? No, no, these are manners,” replied Dumbledore.

“Do it,” said the stranger standing furthest from me. He had a deep raspy voice and almost barked the words. All of my instincts told me to run from this man.

“Is that you, Fenrir?” asked Dumbledore.

“That’s right,” Fenrir barked, and I understood. Fenrir Greyback, the savage werewolf. “Pleased to see me, Dumbledore?”

“No, I cannot say that I am.”

Greyback grinned, showing pointed teeth. Blood trickled down his chin and he licked his lips slowly, obscenely. “But you know how much I like kids, Dumbledore.”

I choked back a sob, struggling to stand upright. Faces of my family flashed through my mind. Whose blood was on my hands and on his teeth? My world spun as I tried to get it back into order. Draco’s arm wrapped around me, trying to keep me upright.

“Ah, the little harlot,” A familiar voice cooed. “I should have known you’d be the one to stop Draco from his task.”

My eyes flashed up, meeting Bellatrix’s.

“She’s actually helped quite a bit,” Dumbledore interjected. “She has my wand, and she’s the one who made your arrival possible,”

“Shut up you old fool!” Bellatrix sneered. “Now come along little prince, we are short on time,” There was an urgency in her voice that made me hopeful that perhaps the Death Eaters hadn’t won but merely escaped.

“Draco, do it or stand aside so one of us—”

I didn’t take note into who was speaking because just then, from the door that Draco had arrived, came Snape, rushing forward and taking in the scene before him. His eyes met mine then went to Draco’s before settling onto Dumbledore’s.

“Severus...” The plead startled me. My eyes turned to Dumbledore who for the first time tonight was begging.

Snape said nothing but walked forward and pushed Draco and I roughly out of the way. Draco steadied me and we both moved to the back wall, watching the other Death Eaters—even Bellatrix fall back without a word.

Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face.

“Severus... please...” Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore.

“Avada Kedavra!” It wasn’t my voice or Draco’s. But rather Snape’s.

Time around me slowed. Or maybe I could register everything around me all at once.

Dumbledore staggered back, falling, falling, falling down. Bellatrix cackled victoriously. Draco was a solace beside me, clinging to me as if I was his only lifeline.

“Out of here, quickly,” Snape ordered, glaring Draco and I down, a snarled look on his face.

He seized Draco’s cloak and forced him first through the door, with me trailing not far behind Draco. I didn’t bother to look who was behind me. Darkness fell over me and I proved blind. All I could do was cling to Draco’s robe and pray that wherever this darkness led, that there was a light somewhere at the end.

The darkness lifted as the starry night sky stretched before me letting me know that I was on the grounds of Hogwarts, not far from Hagrid’s.

“Go! Off the grounds and disapparate!” Snape ordered. “Go home!”

Draco and I stumbled as we ran through the dark. I wished nothing more than to morph into Pinnae and fly away, but I knew it was impossible. Just as we were at the outskirts of the grounds, Draco had to pull me out of the way of a bright red flash.

“Stop righ’ ‘ere!” A gruff voice called.

“Hagrid!” I called in relief until I realized I was no longer wanted here.

“Y/n?” Hagrid seemed just as confused as I was. “Wah are you doin’ ou’ wiff a bunch o’ Death Eaters?”

“I’m so sorry Hagrid,” I yelled into the darkness as Draco and I kept moving towards our freedom. “Take care of Steve, please!”

The distraction was enough to let a few black robes step foot off campus and disapparate. I turned back, a mistake, and saw Harry sprinting towards us, malice and torture in his eyes.

“I was right about you all along!” He shouted. “Don’t you dare show your face here again!”

Before I could respond, mostly just wanting to scream in frustration, Snape intersected the two of us, allowing Draco to grab my arm and pull me off the grounds.

“Y/n!” He called. “You need to disapparate! Go back to the Manor!” His eyes were wild and wide.

I nodded and wand in hand, I landed softly into the foyer of the Manor.

Of home.

chapter 11

masterlist

support a college writer

Tags: @coffee-addicti @msmcsmutt @ravn-87 @artemismohr18 @whygz @crazywritingbug @fuzzy-panda @bitemebro522 @zombiesnips-blog @savingdraco @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @akari180 @slytherin-emerald @memalfoy-spidey @queenfeatherwings @fanficflaneuse @go-whovian-universe @spicyshenanigans @darling-im-not-okay-i-promise @dietkiwi @katsukink @takemetothekingdom @strangerr-things @tmnt-queen @hxneybgb @justsomerandomgur @belcvayelena @moviesbooksandfandoms @howdycharlie @cocochanelthepupper @ninacotte @braelynn-j @jiggllyy @darcypotter-blog @atomicpunkrock @thiccheerioss @lottie289 @beautiful-pegasus @tceedlmao @deadlynyghtshayde @iconjuresnapeingrandmaclothes @anonymous034 @bi-andready-tocry @lunna-does-real-doodle @dragonsandbread @okaydraco @the-queen-of-hell-things @cmxreader @alienmotel @oh-itsnothing @sunflowerxsadnessw @fattycooter @thisisahugemistake @fanficsigottaread @gweaslvy @strawberriesonsummer @gaysludge @cleopatera @ray-of-sunrise @artist-bby @shadowsingeraxolotl @quillsareforwriting @ghostlytoadalmondhairdo @wollymalfoy @lilpieceoftoast @paper-cats @floweryjh @sdicapriox @peachesandpinks @hufflautia @livize75 @annie-mcl @riathearora @live-like-luna @justathoughtfulangel @coconutdawn @skteaiy @wannabeskinny-thinspo @naughtygranger @dragonsandbread @abundantxadorations @moony-artnstuff @myforeveryoungblog @and-then-a-girl-with-luv @1-800-luvsick @pandas-rice-field @mrvlfangirl3190 @in-slytherin-we-trust @emmaa-t @introvertedrae @infinity1o1 @stoleurmomsvan @echpr @dekulover @marshmallowtraver @cereuselle @lonely-skywalker @xlosttdreamss @sleepysnapesnake @hoeforthefictional @coldlilheart @helen-paris @romance-geek @rosie-starlit-sky @californiaa-babyy @vulture-withafile @hogstupefy @littlepanda-love @eveft @iraniq @groovyfluxie @cool-weirdo-wannabee-author @siriusblackdies @rosegold-thorns @criminaly-supernatural @annie-mcl @ghostofdolans @bforbroadway @mxl-foyrecs @ginger-haired-queen @bex4whovian @kellyrose193 @scrunchinn @unlikelygalaxygiver @marvel-trash-was-taken @one-edgy-bitch @supersouthy @narcissism-iskey @garbagejay @rejectedlonelyasianchild @lucymxwell @coldlilheart @cha0ticbisexual @elia-the-bibliophile @biggalaxydreamland

448 notes · View notes

banashee · 4 years ago

Link

Hi Folks, welcome to my third fic for the Archival Pride 2021 project! Look at their tumblr for more info :) @archivalpride

Archival Pride 2021, Week three (June 15-21) Prompts: Love Languages, Doubt, Post-Canon, Intimacy, Home

The key words I've used here are Post-Canon, Home and Intimacy

- Off-screen Arguments - scars - Trauma recovery - brief but canon-typical violence - References to Canon-Stabby-Stabby in MAG200 - mention of coma, no details - reference to homophobic Parent

A Second Chance

Some days, it still feels like a dream. That they are here, together, that they get to have this. A home, a life - a second chance at everything.

It’s been almost two years since the panopticon collapsed in an explosion, almost two years since Jon and Martin woke up… Here. “Somewhere else” they called it then, but now they simply call this place “home”. More precisely, they do so because first and foremost, they are home to each other.

Even back when in the Institute, when both of them successfully managed to convince themselves their feelings for each other were one-sided, the few and far moments where they actually had time to themselves were precious. Even when Jon had woken up from his coma and Martin was working for Peter Lukas, just a small brush of hands or a quick hug in the hallway had felt like the only safe place left in the world. Just for a moment, before they had to move on, more alone than ever before.

By the time Martin was deep in the Lonely and Jon had pulled him out, taken his hand and not let go until they were safely in Daisy’s little safehouse in the Scottish Highlands where no one would be able to find or hurt them. Or at least, that had been the plan… It only lasted for a little while.

Still, even though the end of the world started there, the days and weeks they had before are precious to Jon and Martin to this day. It’s those weeks where they had a chance to really get to know each other, outside of work and countless terrifying encounters with the Fears.

Days spent talking in front of the fireplace, curled up around each other or not talking at all. Especially on the bad days, when everything hits them at once, it is a little bit easier to deal with everything while they’re together. Cooking together, stepping around each other in the kitchen when they tried recipes neither of them had ever tried before, laughing at and playfully chiding each other when everything turns into a big mess.

Hugs and kisses shared at the most random of times, just because they realized they can do this now.

Over time, they shared a few personal bits and pieces. After the first time they shared the bed, to be close and to keep the nightmares at bay, they started talking about their needs and boundaries.

“I love you, and I love being close to you. But I, I also need you to know that… Well, I won’t be able to give you more than this. I don’t… sleep with people. In, well, in that sense.” Jon had blushed and stammered his way through explaining what Asexuality means to him, and it is met with love and acceptance. He started to breathe a little bit easier then.

A little while later, Martin told him about the disaster that was his coming out to his Mum. He didn’t mean to, he said that day in the safehouse with a bitter smile as he shook his head, but he’d hit a breaking point. One too many homophobic remarks, one too many unhappy sneers.

“One day, I just. Snapped. Couldn’t take the bullshit anymore. I don’t even remember exactly what I said to her, but she was... “ Martin shook his head.

“Not happy.” He laughed, but it wasn’t happy by any means. Jon understood all too well, and reached out with one hand, an offer to hold on tight, which Martin happily took him up on.

“She didn’t… Like me very much before, I don’t think. Or, well, I know that now, but… But ever since I told her I am gay, that certainly didn’t help things. She never met any of my boyfriends or anything, but, well. That’s robably for the best.”

Only a short while after this conversation, the world ended. After months and months of walking through a hellscape, they finally arrived back in what once was London. Back at the institute - the tower of the Watcher.

Once they got their chance to kill Elias and destroy Jonah Magnus, things… Went differently than planned.

Even years after the fact, long long after, Jon and Martin wake up from vivid nightmares. The memories, both real and twisted, leave them sobbing and calling out for each other. Each time, they end up wide awake for hours, holding onto one another to try and keep the other from getting lost again. Dealing with everything is very much a work in progress.

Guilt eats Jon up from the inside. He is talking about it, at least he does now, but the feelings are still there, sitting on his chest and taking his breath away. The guilt about walking off on his own and leaving everyone else, including Martin behind is one of the worst he’s ever felt, and even though they have talked and worked through this particular issue for a long time, Jon is still struggling with it. The main problem is that didn’t see another way, did what he thought was best. Now he knows there wasn’t a right decision in the situation they found themselves in, only damage control.

But on a personal level? Yes, he screwed up, and he knows it.

The scar on his chest hurts those nights, like a fresh wound. Jon finds himself clutching it, without even realizing that he is doing so. If he was, he would try to stop himself from it, but every time his hands rub over the place in the middle of his chest, when breath leaves his lungs for a while, he can tell that Martin’s eyes go blank and he hates himself a little bit more for having caused so much pain. .

How often Martin wakes up in the middle of the night, dreaming again and again about that fateful day that ended with him stabbing the love of his life with a knife, he has long lost count. But it hurts, worse than anything else, and the memory alone sends him spiralling for a long time.

If the Fears had any more power here, there is no doubt that Martin would find himself surrounded by thick, white fog those nights, cold and damp and utterly alone even with another person in the room.

He’d spent months - years really - keeping it together just to keep going, doing what needed to be done and be there for the people around him. It’s what he’s always done, isn’t used to anything else, but Jon knows him well enough to recognize the signs and stop Martin before he destroys himself any further.

“Let me take care of you. Please - You don’t have to keep going all the time.”

Somehow, even with all the trauma and heartbreak, the two of them manage to form one functioning human being together when they can’t manage to be one on their own. On the really bad days, that is enough.

Martin and Jon have their hiccups - but they know just how much they adore one another, and that is usually enough to make them see reason even when things get hard.

Especially in the first few weeks Somewhere Else, there is a lot of confusion and pain. Years of trauma and injuries they are unable to explain to anyone, because how do you explain even a fraction of the fears and the apocalypse they have walked through? None of it has happened here. This is a world that has never ended, and although the Fears certainly exist here, they are in the shadows, where they belong. As far as they can tell, none of the rituals have happened here, and the entities just. Exist, but don’t do nearly as much harm as Jon and Martin have experienced.

So seeking out help, let alone from professionals, is hard. Lord knows, they need it - it takes the two of them countless trials to find individual therapists for themselves, and even longer to find one to attend for couples counseling who won’t make their skin crawl with anxiety. There are issues that need to be addressed, and it is hard to start somewhere.

Some sessions are much, much harder than others. Unpacking the baggage is logical, it is something that needs to be done in order to deal with the trauma, but for a long time, it just hurts. It hurts, having to open up about things that are so deeply personal, and even though both Martin and Jon have come up with cover stories for their situation, they still have to work on all the emotions and the things that happened to them and their loved ones.

Some days, either one or both of them will come home from a therapy session and simply collapse into bed. Most times, all they want then is to hold each other. Other times, they talk, but more often than not, being able to listen to each other's heartbeat as they shake apart or fall asleep from exhaustion is enough.

Especially at first, when everything is still fresh, when the scars are still pink, raised and puckering, things are hard.

Surprising no one, coming from a literal hellscape into a normal, relatively calm world, is a total whiplash. Things are tense between Jon and Martin for a bit. They want to stay together, because they love each other deeply - there was never any doubt, not even a bit. But there are some situations, issues and decisions that they need to adress.

While things are still sore, it results in a number of exhausted, tearful arguments that leave both of them absolutely drained and limp from overwhelming sadness. The arguments themselves never last long, because both Martin and Jon are quick to make up and apologize after, but the feelings of exhaustion and heartbreak stay for long after.

The arguments pull on wounds and it hurts. There really is no other way to put it. More often than not, Martin and Jon spend the night with no sleep, wrapped around each other so tightly it is almost painful. Holding onto one another is all they can do sometimes to keep each other from falling apart at the seams.

Weeks turn into months, months turn into a year and so on. Both Jon and Martin have come a long way since they arrived here - they no longer call it “Somewhere else”. Their trauma still sits deep, but has become much, much more of a quiet background pain that occasionally comes out to play, rather than being a constant, stabbing sensation that leaves them bleeding and breathless, unable to function. Those days, thankfully, have become rare.

They start to live, instead of just surviving.

It is around that time that they decide they want to get out of the city. London, whether back in the old world or here, is not a quiet place to be, but now that they are free, they take the opportunity and run with it.

A little bit of time passes, and between days spent walking hand in hand through the nearby park, nights curled up on the couch with books and tea and day jobs and even occasional evenings in the pub with coworkers, they find themselves standing in their empty apartment. All there is left is a single cardboard box and a potted plant, both of which are held by the two men who spent the last year and a half there.

“...Jon?”

“Yes, Love?”

“I had no idea we had so much stuff, until we started to pack it all up.”

“We do. I’m… Not entirely sure when that happened to be honest.”

“....I believe somewhere between us starting to actually do things, and you discovering that tiny bookshop which I’m convinced should have been empty by now, thanks to you.”

“Yes. And also the plants. Don’t forget your leafy children, Martin.” Jon leans into Martin’s upper arm for a moment, a small smile on his face. He would have pulled him into an embrace, but since Martin holds the last of their moving boxes, filled to the brim with books, and Jon’s arms are currently wrapped around the pot of a fairly tall dracea, just leaning in must be enough. The plant pokes far over his shoulder, long, dark green leaves lazily moving with him as he holds onto it, tight and secure.

‘Martha’ says a small, handwritten label on the pot, carefully stuck near the edge of the pot. Giving the plants human names had started out as a joke, a throwaway sentence, but then they bought more and more plants, and so a new tradition was born.

“...To be fair, I had no idea there were so many until we had to get them all into the van.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find plenty of space in the new house that looks empty. Not for long though, knowing you.”

Martin smiles at him, propping the box against himself. This thing is heavy - as small as their old flat is, it hasn’t stopped Jon from starting to form their own library throughout the living room. Truth be told, he is looking forward to seeing it expand once they’re settled into their new space. It'll be a fun opportunity to bicker over the proper way to sort them.

(“By colour ?? Martin, Dear, Love of my life, what the fuck . You’ve worked in a Library for years!” Jon will ramble on in disbelief, and Martin will cackle to himself, knowing he managed to rile his boyfriend up about something that isn’t important at all. He knows they actually agree that books need to be sorted by Author’s names. But where would be the fun in admitting that right away?)

“Ready to go?” he asks, and waits for his partner's affirmative nod before the two of them leave the apartment, for one last time.

It’s time for a new chapter in their new life, and they’re more than ready to start it.

The first morning in their new house, they are woken up by a fresh breeze coming through their bedroom window. It carries the scent of pine needles and damp earth with it. The birds outside are already singing the song of their people and have been doing so for hours, long before most humans are conscious. Waking up like this is bliss, even though the bed is about the only thing that is actually done in this room.

There are boxes everywhere and their wardrobe is only halfway assembled, but the bed is comfortable and decked out in fresh covers that still smell of washing powder. Everything is fresh and new and feels a little bit like they’re on a holiday. Maybe someday, it will become their new normal, but as of now, it feels like a fresh start.

As always, it’s Martin who wakes up first. He can smell the fresh, woodsy air, and it relaxes him in an instant. There is a small forest right by their house. It is at the end of the street where only a few more old, slightly lopsided houses are nearby. It is perfect for them.

On their search for a new home, it was clear they wanted to go somewhere more rural, somewhere remote. Ever since the Lonely, Martin is struggling with too many people around him. He can go about his everyday life if he has to, but days with too many people and too much social interaction leave him sad and exhausted from pretending to be fine and peachy with it.

It doesn’t help that many of the houses they looked at are seaside cottages. As beautiful as they look on the photos, conveniently taken on days with clear blue skies, this is England. There are way more rainy days filled with grey, suffocating fog, and that alone is enough to send Martin back into a full blown panic attack. It’s too much, way too much like the Lonely. Needless to say, they filtered their searches accordingly.

Eventually, everything clicks into place and they find their dream house in a small residential area with little traffic and even less people. The quiet of the countryside makes both of the breathe easier- it reminds them a little bit of their time in Scotland, even though the landscape isn’t nearly as raw here. They may or may not have found a field of very good cows nearby though.

The cool breeze of the morning air makes Martin shiver a bit, and he pulls the covers a little bit tighter around himself and Jon. Predictably, his partner takes this as an invitation to adjust his octopus grip that he has around him to get even closer as he sleepily grumbles,

“...Just five more minutes.”

“Make it an hour and we’re good, Love.” With gentle fingers, he starts to detangle the long strands of hair that surround Jon. There is even more grey than there was only a few years ago - no surprise, what with all of the stress and trauma they have lived through.

All that Martin gets in response to this is a low hum as Jon tightens his hold around him once more as he breathes a small trail of kisses along the side of his neck and up his jaw.

He knows that Morning-Jon is not talkative, at all, but he knows him long and well enough to understand what he is telling him, even when he is half asleep himself.

“I love you, too.”

#Archival Pride 2021 #banashee writes #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #JonMartin #Post mag200 #TMA season 5 spoilers

15 notes · View notes

ticklishpeter · 4 years ago

Text

bro time (diego/ben/klaus)

ANOTHER FIC!!! and yes it’s very self-indulgent but GOD i had so much fun writing it so ofc i gotta share!!!! enjoy, babies!!

summary: diego’s a grump (yes, again), klaus is determined to fix that, even if only for a little while. and who better to drag along then sweet benjamin, right?

word count: 2,430

Diego had always been a total downer. It was never out of the ordinary to see a scowl on his face or to hear an annoyed sigh or two, typically pointed at Klaus. Sure, Diego had gotten a bit softer since they got back from the 1960s, but his siblings’ antics never quite changed, and therefore, neither did his frequent bad mood.

It was a lazy, uneventful day around the mansion. Klaus had plans though; plans to daydrink himself into a coma in the living room. When he made his way to the room, though, he noticed a frowning Diego laying on the couch and throwing his knife up and down in the air. Immediately, running away from the doorway, he pressed his back to the wall next to it, before spotting Ben in the kitchen.

“Pst, hey,” he hissed as he threw a crumpled up receipt from his pocket towards the bar, where his dead brother stood, reading some book that Klaus definitely didn’t care about.

Ben rolled his eyes with a sigh and looked up from his book, “What?” He already sounded annoyed with whatever Klaus was planning.

“Dontcha think Diego’s been…” Klaus leaned against the bar next to him, “I dunno, kinda super grumpy lately?”

Ben’s eyes pointed to the living room, leaning slightly to catch a glimpse of the brother in question, “I mean, yeah but he always is. It’s Diego.”

“I know, I know, but hey, ‘nother question for ya. Remember how crazy ticklish he was when we were kids?” Klaus couldn’t help but laugh at the memory of Ben being the designated pinner while the rest of the siblings tormented their knife-wielding brother to hysteria with tickles. He also decided to disregard Ben’s noticeable reaction to the dreaded t-word.

Ben squinted up at him from his book, a small smirk on his face. And that was enough for Klaus to know that he was in, “Okay, yes. I’ll help you, but only because this story’s getting boring.” Not because he missed having fun with his siblings; definitely not that.

The ghost made his way into the room first, and sat across Diego’s knees with a sigh, but an unmistakably playful glint in his eye.

“Hey, broskidoodle!” Klaus exclaimed, seemingly out of nowhere, “You're still ticklish, right?”

Immediately upon hearing the words and seeing the look on Klaus’ face, Diego tried to get up but only his upper half left the couch. “What - hey! What the hell, man?”

“Oh, yeah! Ben’s here, he says hello!” The former cult-leader gestured towards the invisible figure that had been holding Diego down. “Anyway, you’ve been a total grump for like, ever. And I just wanna see you smile for once, DiDi!” Without hesitation, Klaus experimentally grabbed at one of his thighs, giggling at the yelp and twitch that followed.

Diego was already frantically struggling to escape, “No — fuck off!” His eyes stayed glued on the hands that hovered now, over his sides, as he sucked in his stomach as far away as he could get it.

“Of course you’re still ticklish. What was I thinking? There’s no way you could’ve outgrown that, right? As ticklish as you were, whew,” Klaus whistled, “You were such a little wiggleworm… and a giggleworm, wasn’t he, Benny?”

Ben nodded with a small laugh. He loved having a positive memory that he could share with all of his siblings. It was nice to reminisce every now and then.

Diego then smacked Ben’s back (or where he thought Ben’s back was) and attempted to slap Klaus’ face, ultimately missing and making a fool of himself, “Sh-Shut up.” An accidental giggle slipped through his lips as he watched Klaus’ fingers wiggle teasingly a few inches above his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation, which ended up being a terrible idea, as he couldn’t see when Klaus decided to attack.

He screamed at the feeling of Klaus’ blunt nails scribbling around his ribs, and practically jumped out of his skin when another hand poked at his thigh. Opening one eye, he flinched when his brother teasingly shot the hand towards an armpit, only to move back down to his thigh, and then back up to skitter his fingers on his neck. Twitching and jerking away at every little touch, Diego felt his face get warm, “Fucking — quit it, you little shits!”

Much to Diego’s relief, Klaus actually… stopped? Before he started really giggling too, which Diego praised every God and Goddess in existence for.

“Now if I remember correctly, you always used to hate it when we tickled you right about…” Klaus tapped his chin. “Was it here?” A knowing poke to Diego’s stomach was all it took to draw a squeal out of Diego’s mouth.

“No,” he yelled, sounding more like a a squeak than he hoped it would, “Fuck!”

Lifting his hands above Diego again, Klaus teasingly jerked his arms forward, absolutely relishing in how violently Diego flinched. He did his little trick again. A squeak. And again. A yelp. And again. A giggle, “Ihi’ll - I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Ah,” Klaus clapped his hands, his voice high-pitched and teasy, “there’s those cute little sounds I remember! I’m not even touching you, silly!” He couldn’t help but laugh as his brother flinched and snorted when he wiggled his fingers again.

“Shut up, Klaus, I swear to God -”

Ignoring him, Klaus grinned, “Yeah? Tell him I say hi. — Do you have a ticklish tummy, Diego? Does wittle Diego have a tickwish tummy?”

“Sh-sh-shut up!” Diego grunted again through another giggle, shaking his head. The giggles were starting to get overwhelming.

“Uh, oh! Number Two’s got a case of the giggles!” His obnoxiously teasy brother cooed as he began to place maddening pinches all over his stomach, “What an unfortunate combo; a case of the giggles, and a ticklish tummy?”

His flailing arms were torn between covering his face or guarding his midsection as he twisted his body as much as he could. The teasing made things ten times worse for the ticklish vigilante. “I-I don’t! Ihi don’t!”

“Yes you do! I know it.” He was endlessly amused at the other’s frantic reactions to a few mere pokes and squeezes. “All you have to do,” Klaus laughed along with his screaming brother, “is tell me you have a ticklish tummy, Mr. Giggles, and then I'll stop!”

Was that all he had to do? The other’s continuous teasing tone in his voice made Diego’s face heat up as he grunted, “Okay, I do! Now let me go!” Anything to make it stop.

“You do, what?” Klaus raised his eyebrows, digging his fingers into the sweet spot right below his ribs, on the side of his stomach. Of course it wasn’t going to be that easy.

“Youhou know what, asshole! Fucking stop!” Attempting to kick Ben off of him, Diego turned his head away, his long hair already totally messed up.

Shaking his head, Klaus hummed in the most obnoxiously nonchalant manner, “Mm-mm, nope, you gotta tell me what you've got right here!”

“J-Jesus,” he snorted before covering his face in embarrassment with his arm, his other hand weakly attempting to push Klaus’ goddamn fingers away. Said goddamn fingers moved quickly up to his armpit, though, causing his arm to shoot back downwards. The giggles that left his mouth were practically uncontrollable at this point as he turned his head into his shoulder, “S-s-s-sensitive! I- fuck,” he squealed. “Okay, okay, my stomach is s-sensitive, goddammit! Ben! Get off of me!” Falling back into his giggle fit, Diego covered his face with both arms now, squirming and twisting as much as he could.

Ben laughed amusedly, wishing he could join in on the teasing, but settled for fluttering his ghostly fingers around Diego’s sides.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Klaus clicked his tongue, giving his brother’s lower tummy some rhythmic pokes, resulting in both arms coming down again, “That doesn't sound like what I told you to say, Blushy McBlusherson!” Klaus squeezed a quickly moving clawed hand right over Diego’s bellybutton. “Say it! Say you have a ticklish tummy, and I'll set you free! It’s not that difficult, I know you can do it!” he cooed as if Diego was a small child, and he was the tickle monster.

Diego yelped at the teases and threw two consecutive punches at Klaus’ shoulder before his hands flew down to grab the hand in the middle of his stomach, “God! Fuck, you're such a DICK! I h-h-hate - ugh!” he whined at his stutter mixed with the giggles. He hated how much power Klaus - fucking Klaus - had over him right now. The growl that left his grinning mouth turned quickly into a strangled choking noise, and then a downpour of giggles when he felt Klaus’ finger make his way into his bellybutton. Thrashing around, Diego gasped. “Klaus! Don’t you fucking - FUCK! Not there! - ACK, Jesus!” He had way too much pride to say the words that Klaus wanted him to, but said pride was quickly fleeting as he squirmed, immediately tensing up, and instinctually trying to curl in on himself.

“Oh nooo, I think Mr. Pointer Finger’s stuck in there! ‘Help, help!’” Klaus cried in a higher pitched voice as he moved his stupid finger-character around. He couldn't help but aim a poke at Ben’s back, remembering how much he'd performed the same act with him when they were young.

Diego couldn't do anything but cackle and cover his face. Ben bucked, almost losing his balance as Diego kicked furiously. “Stop it! Fucking - God,” he squealed and gasped, a hiccup escaping somewhere in the midst of all of his desperate sounds. “Ihi - SHIT! FUCK! I -” Another snort was muffled slightly by both of his hands covering his face, a full 5 seconds of laughter passed before he managed to ramble, “Ihavea-EEP-t-t-ticklishtummy! ACK! FUHUCK! F-F-...Fucking stop it!” He attempted a growl or two to sound more adult than he currently felt and sounded. Just saying the words, however fast and rambly, was absolutely unbearable for Diego.

Klaus’ silly voice drowned in the volume of Number Two’s laughter as he continued to wiggle his finger in his bellybutton, giving a few pinches to his waistline.

“STOP! STOP, KLAUS, PLEASE!” Diego shrieked and shook his head before falling into silent frantic laughter. A hiccup, and a weak “Please!” were the only audible things to leave his mouth as he smacked at the floor next to him.

Klaus, feeling particularly ruthless today, decided to mess with not just the one, but two of his brothers, who both just happened to be astoundingly ticklish. A squeeze to Ben’s side was all it took to get him to squeak and fall off of Diego's shaking legs.

“Aww, look at my two ticklish little brothers!” Klaus cooed at the two squirming men with a laugh, as one hand stayed put, still tormenting Diego’s ‘tickle-button’ (as Grace once called it when they were kids, and no one let him live it down) another wandering hand spidered its way up and down Ben’s hypersensitive ribs.

“Hey, Diego!” Calling over the laughter from the two of them, Klaus leaned over a squirmy Diego, “Diego, how many tickles does it take to make Ben laugh?” No answer, obviously. He wasn’t even sure that Diego could hear him. But Ben could.

“Klaus! God, shut up!” he curled up, knowing exactly what was coming. “Ten-tickles! Hahahahaha!” Klaus laughed in a mocking manner as he grinned and spidered five fingers on his side, “A-one,” he moved to his other side, “A-two,” a poke to the bellybutton made Ben squeal, “A-three,” Klaus continued alternating between different spots as he counted up to ten, laughing at Ben’s squirms and strangled sounds between helpless laughter.

He also continued tickling in and around Diego’s bellybutton, occasionally poking around his upper stomach. “How’s it going over there, pillsbury knife boy?”

A hiccup came before a frustrated noise, before Diego switched back into silent laughter, “I’m -” he gasped for whatever air he could get, “I’m dying, Klaus, fucking st - hic - stooop! P-PLEASE I’ll do anything! Hic - I’ll - I’ll do anything, just — stohohop.”

Klaus finally let up once he noticed a few tears falling from his closed eyes, which meant he’d succeeded in getting Diego to laugh. Like, … really, really laugh. And that meant his job was done. He took advantage of the time taken with Diego’s residual giggles to squeeze Ben’s ribs one last time. “Aww, move your hands, Benerino, you know I love your little blushy face!”

“Okay, okay, Klaus, plehease!” He moved both of his hands down to try and stop the tickling ones, only to be caught off-guard by Klaus squeaking and twitching dramatically. Whatever had happened caused him to lose his balance. Wait. Ben noticed his hand next to Klaus’ left hip before smiling, and squeezing at it before Klaus could get back up.

“BEN!” Klaus screeched, rolling onto his stomach. Bad idea, because Ben sat across his legs now, and now he had full access to not only his hips and armpits, but also his back. His three worst spots.

“What an inconvenience, Klaus,” Ben teased, poking at both of his hips with both free hands. He couldn’t help but notice Diego lean up on an elbow, still panting, but smiling at the opportunity for revenge. “A case of the giggles, and a pair of ticklish… hips, … armpits,” his hands flew to Klaus’ underarms digging into the bare skin, “and a super ticklish back, if I remember correctly.”

Klaus yelped, choking out a loud cackle when he felt the terribly light scribbles around his upper back. Arching his back, Klaus batted at the floor beneath him, acting almost as if he was trying to claw his way out from under Ben. “Stop it, you sh- shiteater!” He squealed loudly when he felt another pair of hands scribble under his arms. Upon pressing his cheek to the floor to see what was happening, it was Diego with, coincidentally, the most shit-eating grin he’d seen in awhile.

“GUHUYS!” He cackled, the sound akin to that of a witch, even louder when Ben’s far-too-tangible hands made his way back to his hips, “OHOKAY, OKAY! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. — I promise!”

His two ticklish brothers let up, likely due to weakness from all the laughter they were doing beforehand, but also because they knew Klaus didn’t mind the tickling so they’d be here forever if they didn’t stop.

“But you gotta admit it was kinda fun, right?” Klaus shrugged with a smile. He could tell that Ben and Diego were smiling too.

Hmm, maybe being there forever wouldn’t be too bad.

#tickle fic #tua tickle fic #ticklish!diego #ticklish!ben #ticklish!klaus #HERE SHE IS #ENJOY PLS!!!! and say smth nice/reblog if ya like it!! it'd mean a lot <3 <3 <3 #my fics

87 notes · View notes

stendyle · 3 years ago

Note

William Afton and Henry Emily open Fredbear’s family diner

A kid is killed in Fredbears and it closes down

William and Henry start fazbear entertainment and open the first Freddy Fazbear’s pizza

William kills Henry’s daughter and it closes down

Henry realizes what William is doing and believes that he created the monster that William has become

Henry refuses to work with William again

William opens Circus Babies pizza which closes after its first day after William’s daughter is killed by an animatronic that he designed

William’s son witnessed his sister’s death and develops a fear of the animatronics

The animatronics from circus babies go into storage

William opens a new Freddy Fazbear’s along with a Freddy juniors

William kills 5 kids at Freddy’s and stuffs their bodies in the animatronics

His son witnesses his father kill one kid

William’s son meets his end after his older brother Michael accidentally crushes his head in an animatronic’s mouth in 1983

William after losing 2 kids to his own creations becomes obsessed with bring them back using the souls (remnant) of killed kids. He is no longer killing for pleasure.

William is caught on the security cameras doing some shady stuff but is never convicted because the bodies are never found

It is marked as an accident and the restaurant shuts down after the animatronics start to smell and ooze blood

Michael finds the storage facility for the Circus baby animatronics and gets a job there. He finds the spirit of his late sister there as long as the spirits of other killed kids who’s remnant have been infused into the animatronics to bring the animatronics alive. He learns that his father has been torturing and killing kids in his efforts to bring back his daughter and son.

Michael is scooped and used as a body for Enard but his body starts to decay so Enard leaves his body to find a new body. Michael somehow survives

Michael gets a job at Freddy’s junior to investigate his father’s murders. The new (toy) animatronics’ facial recognition mistake Michael for William as William is now on a criminal database and they start to attack him. The souls that haunt the old (withered) animatronics also mistake Michael and attack him as well. The puppet (haunted by Henry’s daughter) has taken a motherly role and thinks Michael is there to hurt the other souls and starts (you guessed him) to attack him. Michael starts to see the apparition of a Fredbear animatronic slumped over. He also starts to see the words “its me” in his vision.

Michael is fired for tampering with animatronics and smelling bad (due to his decayed body)

In 1987 an employee or guest (unclear) at Freddy juniors gets their frontal lobe bitten off by an animatronic and the restaurant closes down

The old (withered) animatronics are repurposed into new animatronics and are used in a new smaller restaurant while the toy animatronics are scrapped for parts

Michael gets a job as a night guard at this restaurant to free the spirits haunting the animatronics

Michael learns that his brother haunts the fredbear animatronic along with another soul named Cassidy

Michael does everything in his power but cannot free them. The spirits can only think about getting revenge and won’t be at peace until William is dead.

William learns that the animatronics are alive and in an effort to harness their remnant he accidentally gives them the opportunity they need to kill him. They chase him into the back room and trap him in an old spring lock suit. The suits mechanisms snap shut and horribly injure William but William’s hatred keeps him alive.

Fazbear entertainment seals the backroom shut with William in it to avoid negative PR

Years later a horror attraction named “Fazbear’s frights” based off the Freddy murders is opening

Michael gets a job there after learning that they are using real props from the old Freddy locations and worrying that the spirits would return

His fears are confirmed after he starts seeing the apparitions of the animatronics

On his second day the phone dude mentions a real animatronic that they found

To his horror it his dad’s rotting corpse inside the spring lock suit

Kinda unimportant but he also finds the puppet there

On his final day he torches the place and hopes that that is enough to finally kill dear old dad

He thinks it has worked until he sees his dad in the background of a picture in the paper

Henry Emily after many years of planning finally has perfected his master plan for disposing of the loose ends. He puts an ad in the news paper for the position of managing a new Freddy’s location and sets his plan in motion. First he creates an animatronic to lure and trap the puppet. Next he lites all the remaining spirits to the location. His plan is to let the manager (who stays over night to do tasks) escape while he seals all exits and burns the spirits but after seeing that the manager is Michael Afton he realizes that Michael has been dong the same thing that he was doing and would want to burn with the animatronics so he throws out the exit plan for the manager. Henry burns the place down with him and all of his past mistakes still inside.

Part of William’s soul latches on to some tech.

William’s soul would have gone to eternal damnation and all the spirits (including Michael) would have been freed except for one small hiccup

William’s first victim (Cassidy remember her) still feels so much hatred that she forces the other spirits to stay and keeps William alive. She forces the other spirits to torture him over and over while he laid in a hospital bed in a coma. Any attempt by the nurses to end his suffering would always be thwarted by Cassidy.

Meanwhile an indie game developer (probably a hired by Fazbear entertainment as a PR stunt) creates a series of games that bring to light the murders. These games do a significant hit to Fazbear’s PR

Fazbear entertainment then starts a developing VR game to save face and make light of the murders.

They use old cold from Freddy’s to speed up the process

One of their beta tester (Jeremy) starts to notice some glitches in the game, most noticeably a weird glitchy yellow rabbit. He tries to tell the higher ups but they brush him off. The other testers see it as a challenge to find the glitch but none are successful. Jeremy feels like he is going insane. Soon the rabbit starts talking to him and infecting his brain. Jeremy, now insane, cuts off his face with a paper cutter. He dies from blood loss.

A new beta tester (Vanessa) takes his place. Soon she finds the same glitch. She realizes what the glitch is and starts to make virtual tapes to record what she is doing. Soon she realizes that the glitch has attached itself to the tapes and she separates them and hides them in the games code. But she is too late to save herself the rabbit gets into her mind and makes her record a false tape with false information that would lead the next beta tester to come across the tapes to also get taken over by the glitch.

The glitch is William Afton (duh he always comes back)

Vanessa’s coworkers start to notice her acting weirdly. The IT guy especially as he notices that she has been searching stuff like “Help” or “How to induce subservience in human subjects”. Meanwhile a battle is going on in Vanessa’s brain, her free will vs William. She tries to fight him but he is too strong. He gets her fired from the game dev team and makes her get a job at a new Fazbear’s location that has taken the form of a giant mall.

To be continues after Security Breach comes out

NAH CUZ THIS IS IMPRESSIVE...

#u just sent me back to 4th grade with this ask btw #/pos #rapidtgb #rapid !!#askz

5 notes · View notes

unabashegirl · 5 years ago

Note

Omg so glad you opened requests! Can you do a ddXreader where she is an actress (Netflix original level not superstar) and they’re adjusting to life including both of their fan bases and having to merge worlds

---

FAME

Fame. It is something that sought and dreamt by many. Some aren’t lucky enough and end up spending the rest of their lives seeking it. Running after a dream that wasn’t meant for them. You are one of the expectations. It wasn’t long ago that you were stumbling into different castings and giving it your all to try to accomplish your dream.

Three years ago your time to shine finally came. That month not only had you accomplished what many had failed to do, but you had also signed a contract with one of the biggest entertainment companies. Netflix.

The first season of the show was a success. Shortly after the premiere, Netflix announced a second season. The audience demanded it and craved for more. A few days after the release of the second season you met him. He had been invited to one of your co-star's afterparty. The way he carried himself with such confidence, but without any arrogance -- called your attention that night.

He is everything you have ever dreamt of in a boyfriend. He does all the little things like putting socks on your feet when he notices they are too cold. He serves you coffee in bed, even though he doesn’t like the taste. He plays with your hair when you lay your head on his lap while going over scripts. He even laughs at your awful jokes. After long days at work, you lay on the bed with one another and he tells you about his day while holding your hand. He just truly cares

“Baby?” You heard from the inside of the room, followed by the sound of the front door being shut. You sit on the bathroom floor with a box of tissues and your phone close by.

“I’ll be right out!” You yell back as you try to clean up the mess that you had created in your bathroom. Nonetheless to say it has been a rough day. You have been stuck reading over the script for the third season of the show. David had promised you to have dinner with you and stay over after a movie.

You have been crying all afternoon after reading some comments under an Instagram post. That only lead you down a vortex of hate comments that essentially made you feel like trash and not good enough for David or Netflix. Devastated, you locked yourself in your bathroom and cried your eyes out for a couple of hours. If it wasn’t for David you would have probably continued to cry until the next day.

“I got us your favorite!” David had picked up Thai food from your favorite place. He made sure to order your favorite dish -- coconut chicken curry with jasmine rice. He settles the brown paper bags on the coffee table in the living room. He heads towards the bedroom in search of you.

You quickly wash your face and attempt to look like you haven’t spent most of the day crying. There are a few minutes of utter silence before you hear David attempting to open the bathroom. You take one last breath before opening the door and revealing yourself to your boyfriend.

“There you are” he smiles at the sight of his girlfriend. You look around and try your best not to look at him straight in the eyes. You don’t want David to find out. You don’t want him to think that you are weak. “I’ve missed you”

“I’ve missed you more. How was your day?” You ask as you step closer to him. You wrap your arms around his neck, thinking that maybe some contact with him will heal you.

“It was pretty good. We got enough content for the vlog. Yours?” He asks, wrapping his arms around your waist, pushing your bodies closer together.

“It was alright. Nothing out of the ordinary” David nods before leaning down and gently kissing her lips. You kiss back for a few minutes before he pulls away.

“Let’s go eat. Food is getting cold” He takes your hand in his and pulls you towards the living room. The food is already unpacked and ready to be eaten. You don’t have much of an appetite yet you force yourself to eat. Just for David since he had gone to all the trouble to get your favorite.

You choose a movie to watch while eating and proceeded in enjoying the deliciousness of the Thai food.

By the end of the movie both of you are stuffed and ready to fall into a food coma. Your feet rest on his lap while you both struggle to stay awake. When the movie comes to an end, David shuts off the move. You wait for him to rise for you to do the same, but he never does. He just stares at you while drawing circles on your ankle with the tip of his index and middle finger.

“Let’s go to sleep” You suggest feeling exhausting. Your eyes are still stinging from crying so much. You just want to cuddle up to him and forget about today.

“Y/N?” He calls out, “Why were you crying today? Is everything okay?” He had noticed from the very beginning. He knows you too well to know that something is bothering you.

“It’s nothing,” You say, chocking up in tears. David’s sleep instantly goes out the window when he notices the change in your voice and your eyes welling up with tears. You shake your head at him as he sits up straight and leans forward.

“How are you going to say that it’s nothing? Look at you, baby. If something is bothering you, please let me know” Your breathing becomes more difficult, you choke up and sob. You look away as the tears start falling.

David sighs heavily, throws the blanket off your bodies, and pulls you by your wrist. You close enough to hide your face in the crook of your neck. You grip the soft material of his back shirt as you allow the big wave of tears to unravel. David’s hands travel up your back trying to soothe you while the other holds you close.

“Why are you so sad, baby?” He whispers as he continues to hold you. He tries his best not to move you an inch and just allow you to cry. A few minutes pass by before you take your head off his shoulder.

David's hands come up to should face and gently pull the strands of hair that have stuck to you face. He cups your face in his hands as he tries to get a good look at you. In his eyes, even after all that crying, you still manage to look breathtakingly beautiful.

“I- r-read some comments” You hiccup trying to catch your breath. David frowns knowing where this was going.” They just said I should be with you. They say I don’t deserve you” you wipe your tears with the back of your hand.

“How many times have I told you to stop reading the comments? People are mean, baby. They don’t worry about hurting anyone's feelings. They are selfish. They don’t know about us” He grips your chin, forcing your glances to meet.

“What if they are right? What if I actually don’t deserve you and you are too good for me?” You exhale loudly, finally catching up with your breathing. Your head is pulsating and you can feel the headache creeping up.

“They don’t know shit, baby. You know how many people comment on my videos and Instagram post, comparing me to him?” By him, he refers to your co-star. He is every girl's dream. He and you are in a romantic relationship on the TV show. Some people take it out of context and make up stories like you only dating David for more exposure. “They all think that you should be with someone like him” You shake your head at him. His eyes swell with tears and his voice break. For the first time, he looks vulnerable and so different from the confident man that you had met at the party. You lean in and peck his lips while caressing the back of his neck.

“and do you think I let those comments get to me?” You shake your head at him.”I don’t because no one beside us knows what we have and how special it is. Let them talk and let them say whatever they want. At the end of the day, you are mine and I am yours” He grabs your hands and kisses them.

“I love you, Dave” You whisper as you look at him with adoration. You had read the comments on your Instagram, but you haven’t stopped to think about the comments on his Youtube channel. “They have to get used to us because I am not going anywhere”

“Really?” He smiles as he hands strokes your back. “I thought I would finally get rid of you” You gasp and smack his chest, earning a heavy laugh from him.

“Way to ruin the moment, doofus” You giggle as he hides his face in the crook of your neck, hiding his big smile.

I hope you liked it! Let me know!

134 notes · View notes

beeblackburn · 4 years ago

Note

Ghosts for the fandom ask as well! 👀

The first character I ever fell in love with: Thomas Thorne. “Ah, she’s gone” remains one hell of a delightful line delivery. And his following melodrama was just amazing to sit through. I love dramatic™ bitches.

A character that I used to love/like, but now do not: I... honestly don’t know? Like, I generally like every character in this series and that’s not particularly a small feat. I suppose if I had to choose... the Captain or Mike, and only because I’ve come to realize their later more self-centered/forcible moments were there from the get-go, from the Captain’s complaining about Fanny’s screaming and Mike taking out a loan without talking about it with Alison while she was in a coma, not necessarily because I dislike them.

A ship that I used to love/like, but now do not: Ummm, none! I generally agree with the ships in this series.

My ultimate favorite character™: Thomas Thorne, he usually guarantees a laugh with any line reading, he looks good, he usually holds back before his crush on Alison gets too creepy, The Thomas Thorne Affair and Free Pass helps explain his more romantic tendencies and the former genuinely floored me with some of its twists and that last revelation broke my damn heart. Poor Isabelle and Thomas. They lost so much because the first Lord Button was a selfish arse. And I adore that Thomas was the first one who sung along In the Bleak Midwinter with Alison. I hope all the best for him.

Prettiest character: Kitty or Thomas. Kitty’s more my type, and I love her dress, but Thomas has those floofy locks to die for.

My most hated character: FUCK LORD BUTTON THE FIRST WITH A MUSKET BALL. That being said, I don’t come out of the Christmas Special respecting Mike’s sisters. And, depending on how Kitty’s backstory goes, her sister’s set to replace Lord Button the First. Honestly, I feel like I come out of this series hating cousins and sisters.

My OTP: Mike/Alison. Aside from some hiccups, Mike’s genuinely supportive and follows Alison’s lead and Alison grounds Mike’s eccentrics or flights of fear. They’re not friction-less, but they feel lived-in, have little jokes with each other, and are a couple who love each other and work through their problems.

My NOTP: Yeah, still none.

Favorite episode: Man, there’s a spoil of riches in Season 2 alone, but I keep revisiting Happy Death Day, Getting Out, About Last Night, Redding Weddy, The Thomas Thorne Affair, and Bump in the Night. If I had to narrow it down... The Thomas Thorne Affair, Bump in the Night or The Ghost of Christmas all vie for favorite.

The Thomas Thorne Affair is the best flashback episode Ghosts got, given it’s got a ton of narrative room to breathe around the death in question (I love Redding Weddy, but I wanted more scenes between the Captain and Lieutenant Havers), allowing for multiple perspectives to see the death, and I love how many holes get plugged up by POVs like Kitty’s or get misdirected off-track like Robin’s or get made into a more interesting imaginary scenario like the Captain’s (real talk, his take never fails to make me laugh, bless you, Captain). It’s all hilarious (that bird getting shot by Thomas’ gun as he falls is my second-guiltiest laugh of the series) but it also speaks to a very real idea of our memories: that we edit, we revise, we look back with nostalgia or clean up the messier bits. Add in the twists and the Mike subplot and it all adds up to a tragic tale whose theme is about how another man’s utter selfishness is capable of destroying a relationship between two lovers through violence, either directly or by proxy. It’s delightfully hilarious, but it hits so hard and Thomas’ words about the truth making it all worse twists my heart.

I feel Bump in the Night is the funniest episode Ghosts’ got. It’s not particularly serious, there are no real stakes, given one of the burglars is terrible at theft, it’s just a bunch of total morons fumbling through a breaking-and-entering and it’s amazing. Fanny complaining that the burglars are terrible at theft, the Ghosts calling for 999, only to not think through how to communicate, them trying to communicate with Mike via a creepy doll’s eyelids, Alison immediately realizing Mike’s in the wardrobe, Julian writing “2 of them” instead of 2 like a non-dumbass, MIKE IN THE SUIT OF ARMOR, it’s all amazingly funny, but at the same time, it’s all underlined by the emotional truth that Alison, Mike, and the Ghosts have come far enough that the Ghosts are willing to help them out because they like them, instead of scaring them off or causing problems like in Season 1. Alison verbalizes it, but the more touching scene is how she thanks Robin, the Ghost that first scared her because he had nothing better to do, for getting Barclay to help them and he just nods humbly back. This episode is full of idiots, but it’s got a decent amount of heart in it that gives it weight beyond the laughs.

The Ghost of Christmas probably has one of my favorite theses on why we endure the holidays with our families, despite it never being as magical as can be. There’s stuff to nitpick like how I don’t like how Mike’s sisters delight in Mike throwing a fit, going so far to film it, and some of Julian’s scenes with the baby run a bit long for my taste, but I really do like Julian’s summation of Christmas: that it’s perfect because it’s not perfect and that we should be grateful of any time we spend with family, because it will all go away someday, as the ghosts can testify. We take the good with the bad. There are some delightful humor bits like the Ghosts needling the Captain and Thomas to join in on Twister, Fanny looking up at the tall tree from the seeds they planted, Mike’s dad having a chainsaw, and Julian waving off his daughter being a MP of the Green Party (screw you, Julian, she rules because of that), but there’s also the theme of family in the emotional scene. When Mike’s dad tells him they’re overbearing because someday they won’t get to do things for him, there’s a heartwarming irony that, even past death, the Ghosts are there for Alison, their newest family member. This episode made me realize just how... barren Alison’s biological family connections are from the first episode’s mentioning that there were no other direct relatives. And In the Bleak Midwinter is a gorgeous song that cuts as a certain truth: just because others can’t see your family doesn’t make them any less real to you.

Saddest death: Thomas dying all alone at the tree, no one living by his side, feeling the sting of being rejected one final time at the end because his cousin was a selfish arse who capitalized on a woman he didn’t love for her estate? God, this bears repeating, but fuck Lord Button the First.

Favorite season: Oh, definitely Season 2. I love Season 1, but I’m not a huge fan of second-hand embarrassment and seeing Alison get embarrassed by her reacting to ghosts that others can’t see made me wince quite a few times. I much prefer Season 2′s handling of Alison and the Ghosts and how they work.

Least favorite season: Season 1. I don’t take to the more second-hand embarrassment humor of that season, but I do love every episode except Free Pass. It’s still a great season with episodes like Happy Death Day, Moonah Ston, and Getting Out. Special mention to Happy Death Day, which was the first time I realized Ghosts could balance the comedy and the darkness with sincere emotion without them undercutting each other at the wrong time.

Character that everyone else in the fandom loves, but i hate: Now? Not really. In the first season though, I sometimes found Kitty a little too grating, possessive, and intrusive. Not that I don’t get where she’s coming from, her childhood sounds lonely and painful in ways she doesn’t fully comprehend and ghosthood hasn’t exactly made her any less lonely in some ways, most times I understand, but sometimes, like at the start of Getting Out where I feel she really should pump the brakes.

That being said, her backstory’s gonna break me. I just know it.

My ‘you’re piece of trash, but you’re still a fave’ fave: Fanny or the Captain. They really can be abrasive or domineering in that first season, the Captain steamrolling over Pat from time to time and Lady Fanny’s nitpicking and homophobia, but I do get why they are that way and they do get better.

My ‘beautiful cinnamon roll who deserves better than this’ fave: Kitty, who deserves all the blankets for that childhood. Mary, who likely has a mental illness and got burnt because of that. Humphrey, who doesn’t deserve being ignored by the Ghosts.

My ‘this ship is wrong, nasty, and makes me want to cleanse my soul, but i still love it’ ship: Thomas/Alison. Thomas, sometimes, your behavior can get a little too much regarding Alison. That first (thankfully only) peep at her in the shower, I know you’ve been frustrated for years as a Ghost, but noooooooo. That being said, when Thomas respects her boundaries and is a supportive friend (have I mentioned how touching In the Bleak Midwinter is?), I dig them.

My ‘they’re kind of cute, and i lowkey ship them, but i’m not too invested’ ship: Pat/Cap. Not that I don’t get it, and it promises heartwarming feels and heartbreak (Pat moving on after they hook up and Captain having to watch another leave him again, but this time, Captain got to admit his feelings before the leaving) and they are rather adorable together, but I’m more waiting for the narrative to acknowledge the possibility before launching myself into the ship full-time.

#bbc ghosts

13 notes · View notes

juminsmysticmc · 5 years ago

Note

Can I request a scenario where MC tries to kill herself and ends up in a coma. Soon they have no hope for her and almost tries to kill themselves before getting a call that MC is awake. Angst/Fluff 💕💞💓

RFA tries to kill themselves after MC ends up in Coma after she tried to commit suicide (TRIGGER WARNINGS/ ANGST)

Hiii there~ Thank you so much for this request. Before we go down to this story I want to say that if you guys have a hard time, feel sick, scared, lonely please stop reading this story immediately. This is a trigger warning so guys, take care of yourself first and instead tell anyone, ask for help, okay? You all deserve happiness and life and even through it’s hard now, please don’t think that this is the end, because it isn’t.

There’s so much happiness waiting for you so, please get help and feel happy.

I love you, take care, okay? It may be hard, like running. At first you feel like gasping but after you run, you can breath better again so please, stay safe.

I love you.

Jumin

You looked around at your surroundings as everything had the same dark, depressive color.

Nothing to be happy about, nothing to smile over, and no one to talk to. All you had was your love for Jumin in your heart and your loneliness.

You once again laid in your bed without any breakfast or lunch, no water, and just the dark room.

The air was sticky, but no one would ever open a window.

You sat up as you thought about your life. Everyone’s eyes were on you, but no one was really looking at you. No one could help save you from despair.

Tears left your eyes as you thought about the media, about Jumin who wasn’t home, about the friends you lost, and about your life.

Was it even worth living?

You didn’t have anything to do anyway so what difference would it have made if you just killed yourself?

You still tried to search for a reason, but unfortunately you couldn’t find one.

Not even your husband knew about this dark side of you.

Once he found out, what would he say? What would he do?

Your fears of getting rejected overtook your actions and before you could actually stop yourself you just took the pills you hid for so long.

In a couple of moments everything seemed odd. Your sight got fuzzy, and your body felt heavy.

You couldn’t get up or even call for help.

However, as if from a miracle, the door opened.

Your sight was still fuzzy and you had no idea who was there, who kept checking on you, and calling your name.

Perhaps Jumin…?

Suddenly, you saw how paramedics rushed into the room and lifted you up.

Even Jumin was there, holding your arm and calling your name.

As if you couldn’t speak, you began to gasp for air, however, it felt as if your lungs were filled with air, but you couldn’t breath.

,,Mc, Mc, please stay with me, okay? Hey, look at me, please!’’ Jumin begged.

Before you passed out you felt like someone put a tube into your throat and began to pump a bag to make you breathe, but you simply passed out.

,,Do something, I beg you, do something!’’ Jumin Han cried.

He felt like passing out as Jaehee tried to support him.

,,Mr. Han, you need to stay strong. Drink something for Mrs. Han...’’ Jaehee said, handing him water, however, Jumin laid his head on his palms and began to sob like a little child.

,,How couldn’t I notice that she was in so much pain? How did it come to that?’’ Jumin asked his assistant.

,,You may say your goodbyes,’’ the doctor whispered later on.

By now, the RFA and Jumin’s father, as well as your parents, were in the hospital.

The last glimpse of hope died down as everyone began to hiccup at the news.

,,She can’t be dead...my baby!’’ your mother cried.

,,She’s brain dead. Machines are keeping her alive right now, however, we don’t believe that she will be able to wake up due to the amount of pills she took. If she does wake up, Mrs Han won’t be the same person.

You would need to take care of her, the possibility of disabilities is really high,’’ the doctor said and looked down.

Everyone entered the room, ready to say their last words to you, a person who always seemed happy, except for Jumin.

,,This isn’t a goodbye...I will come to see you right away…’’ he mumbled, something that only Jihyun heard.

,,We can’t turn it off until the husband agrees…’’ the doctor explained four days later, however, it was a good decision that Jumin didn’t come to let them shut down the machines.

As soon as the doctor said these words, you opened your eyes as the nurse was over you.

A big smile formed her lips as she tried to tell you something.

,,Breath for me, Mc, I will release you from these tubes, breath, just breath…’’ she whispered.

,,SHE WOKE UP!’’ your mother yelled out, sinking to the ground and crying out of happiness.

Even though you were still in critical condition, you were alive.

However, Jumin was missing.

,,I think something is awfully wrong…’’ Jihyun spoke up, turning everyone’s attention to him.

Alarmed by his words, the RFA kept searching for him, your husband, who had to know about your well being.

,,He isn’t answering his phone…’’ Jaehee whined as Zen started the motor, on his way to the black haired man’s penthouse.

,,MR HAN! MR HAN OPEN!’’ Jumin heard as the bodyguards tried their best to hold back anyone, just like the future CEO ordered them to do.

,,I won’t...without Mc my life is in vain. She will die and leave me behind. She endured the pain on her own…’’ he mumbled and took another slip of his wine.

,,I need to tell her I’m sorry…’’ he laughed and opened the pills you used.

,,OI! I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE HELL YOU ARE DOING IN THERE,’’ Zen yelled,

,,BUT MC WOKE UP AND IS ALIVE SO GET YOUR ASS TO THE DOOR!’’ he ended his speech.

And it worked.

Jaehee and Zen could glance quickly into the room and see the spilled wine with the pills.

They knew right away what he was trying to do but stayed silent. Instead, together, they rushed to the hospital you were staying at to make him see that you were alive.

,,I’m so sorry…’’ were the only words you guys could say to each other after you cried together in your arms, happy that you were alive.

The next months were hard, but together you could get through them.

You and Jumin went to therapy together and just like the pastor said, you wanted to stay together in good and in bad times together, supporting each other.

Zen

,,She just disappeared!’’ your boyfriend cried into the phone.

,,Calm down, okay? I will find her. You just need to calm down!’’ Seven tried to say as calm as possible while he tried to track you down.

However, you were always scared of being tracked down and told Seven back then to make sure that no one could track your phone, so it was hard for even him to find your whereabouts.

,,I can’t find her either…“ Yoosung began to sob as he sat next to Seven, looking at the footage.

The RFA knew that you were depressed and they were also trying to keep you safe since you already attempted suicide once before.

Suddenly Yoosung yelled out that he found you, getting Seven‘s attention and making him look at the video tape too.

,,Oi! Oi tell me, she‘s alive, right?“ Zen asked into the phone.

His cries got louder and his hands began to tremble even more.

He didn’t want you to die and he didn’t want to lose you.

Why didn’t he pay more attention to you?

Why?

,,BRIDGE!“ Seven gasped.

On the phone, Zen stopped breathing for a few seconds. What did his hacker friend mean?

But Seven quickly told him you were standing in front of a bridge and were currently climbing over to the other side.

,,I will call an ambulance. You go there first!“ Seven demanded, giving the white haired man the address.

Zen quickly started the motor and tried his best to approach you in time.

,,Mc!“ he called you.

You slowly turned your head back, looking into his red eyes while his body slowly approached you.

,,Don’t…“ you begged.

,,Just let me die…“ you hiccuped.

However, Zen shook his head.

The situation was stressful for him too and he prayed to God that you would return to him.

However, his prayers weren’t listened to and after you mumbled a ,,I love you. I‘m sorry,“ you threw your body away into the depths of the blue water of the Han River.

,,NO! MC!“ Zen screamed, bowing his body over the railing to look down into the water where you just let your body fall in.

His face was wet because of his tears. He was just about to jump behind you to save you when the paramedics arrived.

,,YOU DON‘T GET IT BUT MY GIRLFRIEND JUST JUMPED INTO THERE!“ he cried.

His hands were trembling and he kept moving his legs.

,,Let her be alright…“ he begged while he sat on the floor. The paramedics tried to save you.

They quickly found you in the water, however, you were practically already dead.

,,HER PULSE IS BACK!“ a paramedic cried out after he kept giving you a heart massage.

And after they intubated you, they brought you to the nearest hospital.

,,Mr Ryu,“ a doctor in a white grove approached him.

Zen quickly got up and looked into the doctor‘s eyes.

He tried to stay hopeful.

He wouldn’t lose hope for you.

Or that’s what he intended to do.

However, the doctor confessed that you were currently in a coma and he made it clear that you wouldn’t wake up anytime soon.

Indeed, two weeks later you barely looked alive.

You were practically brain dead.

Zen was slowly losing hope. Your fingers didn’t even move by an inch…

,,I give up…“ he cried into your hand.

,,I can’t stand it, Mc...I want to be stronger but I can’t keep seeing you like this…let me join you…“ he told you and kissed your front.

Afterwards he disappeared, however, someone saw him.

,,It’s odd to see Zen leaving so early,“ Jaehee said to Seven, who just nodded and looked down to his phone, observing Zen‘s whereabouts with the GPS on his phone.

,,Hopefully we can be together soon…“ Zen laughed and looked down.

He was scared. He was awfully scared and his heart ached.

Did you feel like that? Was your pain so immense?

To be honest Zen wished for someone to stop him, however, it seemed like no one was going to.

Suddenly, he heard Seven‘s voice behind him, and he was kind of reviled.

,,DON‘T!“ he heard and shrieked back.

,,SHE JUST WOKE UP!“ his friend added, making Zen feel happiness again.

,,Man, I‘ll help ya down. What were you even thinking?“ Seven whispered, holding his friend and helping him.

,,I heard you…“ you whispered a few hours after you were awake for the first time.

Zen was holding you in his arms and sobbing into your hair.

,,I tried to yell back or move my fingers. I tried to beg you to please don’t kill yourself, but you couldn’t hear me…“ you added and fell asleep again, leaving Zen once again in tears.

But you got better.

Recovery was long, but it was possible.

Yoosung

,,Mrs. Kim,“ a doctor called your name as your eyes flickered.

,,Mrs. Kim, do you know why you’re here?“ he asked you, the last thing you heard before you finally passed out completely.

Black was the only thing you could see.

Wasn’t there someone talking? Crying?

You wanted to yell at them, to shut them up and let you sleep, but it was no use…

,,How could this even happen?“ your mother asked Yoosung who was sitting next to you while you laid on the bed.

The intubation and the gadgets that were connected to your body made it seem as if you were already dead.

Yoosung didn‘t know what to tell his mother-in-law. He didn’t notice the self harm or any signs from you at all.

You always looked happy.

Never in pain…

What drove you to knot a rope around your neck and suffocate yourself while you kicked away the chair?

Yoosung‘s tears dropped on your hand as he thought about your lifeless body.

How you shake while trying to gasp, suffocation must have been horrible, he thought.

He was so happy that that morning he forgot his watch and came back.

He was so happy that the urge to give you a kiss again made him see how you tried to commit suicide.

He was so happy that he could grab your feet and make you breathe, even though it was hard because of his trembling legs, someone heard his screams and called an ambulance.

Yoosung was happy that the possibility of you surviving went up by a few percentages.

But why wouldn’t you wake up?

,,You need to eat something…“ his mother whispered when she came to visit you.

Yoosung hadn’t eaten for two days.

,,I‘m scared to leave her…“ he confessed, not even looking up.

,,Yes, but if you don’t stay healthy, you’ll be the one leaving her,“ she hissed and handed him over some rice balls.

Even while eating, he began to sob.

,,They aren’t as tasty as Mc‘s...but she can’t make them for me!“ he sobbed, breaking his mother‘s heart.

,,Don’t leave me...I beg you. Just don’t leave me…“ he begged daily.

But at some point, Yoosung felt like dying. It was as if death was a better option.

Did you feel like that? As if life was senseless?

This decision took a lot of courage, but he returned home alone one day.

Your deadly weapon was still there, making him hiccup again.

You were the only one he wanted to stay with…

He put the rope against his neck and climbed on the chair, sure that he would die today.

However, it never happened…

Before he could kick away the chair his phone began to ring.

The urge to ignore it was strong, however, when he found out that the hospital was calling him, his heart stopped.

Hastily, he got rid of the rope and instead answered the call.

,,She woke up...Mc is awake…“ his mother told him.

Yoosung didn‘t wait any longer and cut the call.

As quickly as his legs could carry him, he ran towards the hospital you were staying at.

He ran up the staircase.

He got yelled at to not run, but he simply ignored them and instead opened door after door until he finally arrived at yours.

Sweat and tears covered his face as you opened your eyes a bit.

,,MC!“ he cried out and approached you.

He wouldn’t let go of you anymore.

Jaehee

,,I don’t know how to help you…“ she whispered as her head laid on her arms on the table.

Jaehee was tired. Even she got mentally tired.

Your mental illness worsened and one attempt to end your life was added at the other six times.

How much longer could she go on until she finally crumbled herself?

You saw her desperate look on the table.

Your heart ached as you saw how much pain she was in.

You didn’t want her to be depressed like you.

This was your fault. Because of you, she was in pain.

Suddenly, you felt as if you could hear voices. Voices which told you that it was your fault.

That because of you, Jaehee was in pain.

That you were good for nothing.

You questioned yourself. Did you even deserve to stay alive?

Your thoughts became darker and darker as you uncontrollably began to sob and took out a razor.

You couldn’t stop yourself and began to hurt your skin, bleeding excessively.

The bathtub on your right side suddenly led you to awful ideas.

,,Mc? Are you still in the bath?“ Jaehee asked you after a while.

When no response came, Jaehee felt that something went awfully wrong and tried to open the door, finding out that you passed out on the floor.

But there was more.

Your bloody hands swam in the hot water.

,,MC!“ Jaehee shrieked, shaking your whole body, however, you couldn’t open your eyes anymore.

,,It’s my fault…“ you heard Jaehee whisper.

Your heart ached, your wrists hurt, and your whole body was in pain, but you seemed unable to move an inch.

You were scared. Scared to die.

You wanted to die, but right now you wanted to live.

You wanted to tell Jaehee how sorry you were.

How selfish humans were. Once they were about to accomplish something they wanted, their ideas changed.

Time passed. In your mind it had only been a few hours, but it seemed that someone said that Jaehee didn’t eat for ages. How long were you actually asleep?

,,Wake up!“ you thought.

,,Move!“ you yelled in your head.

,,Live…“ you begged your body.

,,Did her finger move?“ you heard Zen‘s voice.

,,Where did Jaehee go…?!“ you heard Yoosung’s voice.

And finally, you managed to open your eyes.

The boys around you gasped and happily smiled at you.

,,Jaehee...where is she?“ you tried to groan and began to frantically gasp for air.

The tube in your throat made you want to gag. Their words, however, didn’t reach you.

,,I’m so sorry…“ Jaehee cried in front of a photo book which was filled with pictures of the two of you.

Jaehee was about to take an overdose of sleeping pills when she got a notification.

A chatroom opened and everyone went crazy, making the young woman curious.

,,SHES AWAKEEE“ Yoosung typed in.

,,Typo lolol

I‘m so happy.

Jaehee she‘s crying for you.“ Seven added.

Jaehee spilled over the pills as she tried to get up.

Jaehee Kang left the chatroom

,,Don’t rush and take care. Mc will stay here for a long time,“ Zen typed in lastly, before everyone left the chat too, waiting patiently for Jaehee to arrive.

The brown haired woman barged into the room. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were teary.

She gasped for air as her lungs felt as if they were on fire.

Suddenly, she saw what she waited to see for three weeks: you with open eyes.

,,YOU SCARED ME!’’ she began to cry as she threw her body on yours, hugging you tightly and kissing your face.

Ever since you woke up, you were under observation. The therapist came daily to help you with your suicidal thoughts and help you out of your cycle, something you and Jaehee should have done earlier.

But now you were in good hands and everything would turn out for the best, you knew.

Saeyoung

,,There is no hope,’’ the doctor shook his head after a week.

Ever since you attempted suicide you were in a state of coma and whenever the doctors tried to wake you up, you would panic, making it even harder for your body to stay alive.

As soon as Saeyoung heard these words his heart broke and his legs gave up.

His sobs got stronger and his hands couldn’t stop from shaking either.

As if his world would crush over him, the news that you would die eventually destroyed him.

He didn’t want to leave you, to lose you, to let you die.

Once again Saeyoung returned to his home, alone.

You weren’t by his side, you, the only person who made him happy.

What happened to the beautiful world you and he invented?

Why did it end like this?

Saeyoung sat down and looked down as suddenly the gray sky began to cry with him.

Heavy rain drops hit the window as his salty tears fell on the floor.

Slowly Saeyoung closed his eyes, ready to drift to a dreamland with you, alive.

But suddenly everything got destroyed, you and him were only arguing by now, none was happy anyone.

You discussed once again and you said things to each other which neither of you should have ever said.

And a few seconds later you ran up to the bathroom, closing the door and making it impossible for Saeyoung to enter the room.

Saeran observed you and just shook his head.

The red haired man began to sweat as he dreamed the scene, the nightmare repeated every time he closed his eyes, this was one of the reasons why he was so afraid to close his eyes.

He hated to relive the moment.

He hated the fact that he didn’t care that the water was on for half an hour.

Saeyoung hated himself for not caring for you, that he didn’t ask himself why you weren’t coming out.

And he hated the fact that his brother had to force him to check on you.

Why didn’t the red haired man look after you sooner?

Why didn’t he realize that something was wrong?

Saeyoung asked himself the same question in his dreams.

,,No, no, no, no!’’ Saeyoung mumbled in his dreams, shooking his head as he was trying to stop himself in the dream to open the door of the door.

However his mind played him.

And there you were, your head in the water as the floor was wet.

Your hair round you as you didn’t move a muscle at all.

,,NO!’’ Saeyoung yelled up and jumped up.

Once again he found himself on his couch, his body wet because of the nightmare.

He felt as if he run for three hours, his throat dry as the desert and his heart beating as quickly as a horse.

,,I want to follow you…’’ Saeyoung finally confessed and hiccuped.

The doctors would turn off the machines tomorrow and you would wake up any time soon so, what was he even still alive?

To make it as quickly as possible Saeyoung went into his room and searched his gun.

Short and without being in pain, he though as he held the gun in his mouth.

He looked up to god and cursed the man again for hurting him so much.

And then it happened, Saeyoung was just about to push the trigger when someone walked into the room.

,,OI YOU ASS!’’ Saeran yelled as he saw him on the verge of death.

,,I fucking called you- what the fuck are you planning to do?!’’ his twin brother asked him furiously.

,,PUT THE SHITTY GUN DOWN! MC JUST WOKE UP! ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL YOURSELF?!’’ he asked him and approached him.

Slowly and carefully Saeyoung placed down his gun and pushed it away from him, looking at his white haired brother in disbelieve.

,,My...Mc?’’ he asked his brother again.

Saeran didn’t wait long and grabbed his brother hand, pushing him towards the door and into the car.

,,YES!’’ he responded and started the car, on him way to you, the woman who once again changed his complete life.

Saeran rushed over every red light they crossed, not caring about the rules at all and instead stopped in front of the hospital and, sending his older brother up to you.

Of course Saeyoung used that chance immediately and run up to you, finding you on your bed, your hands were tied and the tube was out of your mouth.

Finally you could breath on your own, without any machines.

,,How are you…?’’ Saeyoung asked, not daring to approach you.

You looked up, you seemed pale and sad.

Was it selfish to keep you alive?

Was it selfish to save you? To want you to stay by his side? Was he being selfish?

However he didn’t care if he was selfish, he knew that he needed you and that your time didn’t come yet, and so he pushed away the feeling of regret.

Suddenly you began to cry and looked up at him, the man of your dreams.

,,I am so sorry!’’ you cried and got hugged immediately by him, who was more than happy to console you alive…

At this point I want to thank the person who corrects all this mess, @brendascorner

MASTERLIST 1MASTERLIST 2MASTERLIST 3

14.02.2020// 23:34 MEST

Tagged:

{Tagged none -> Trigger Warnings! }

274 notes · View notes

keanuvibe · 5 years ago

Text

Noses in Roses (John Wick x Reader) Pt. 3

A/N: hi! this is a re-upload! Apparently, this part got deleted and I wasn’t aware, so if you’ve already invested in this series, it is sadly not a new part.

Words: 6k

Warnings: mentions of kidnapping, violence, swears, and childbirth

disclaimer: I am not a medical professional/haven’t experienced giving birth, so all that I wrote in that category is of my own thoughts on how that process works

December 25th - Christmas Day

Cold flakes of snow fluttered their way down to the ground, casting a gray shadow throughout the space. Holiday music played in the back as a minor distraction, but it only soured the mood. You currently sat at the kitchen table, eyes staring out of the window to avoid the bleak surroundings. John and Aurelio were behind you at the counter, discussing. Aurelio ended up staying the night to help. John and him haven't slept, though somehow you managed to squeeze in a couple of anxiety ridden hours.

Helen took James. She snuck into the home while the boy was unattended and coaxed him to leave. And the fact the three of you were only ten feet away. Just the thought made your lip quiver again. You've already been crying, and finally a couple of hours ago you managed to calm down. The pregnancy hormones didn't help, and the fact you really couldn't do anything to assist the men was frustrating. As much as you loved this baby, she just gets in the way now.

A large hand gently touching your shoulder caused you to jump, before realizing it was John.

“Sorry,” He murmured. You looked up to greet his standing figure. He looked tired, eyes dark and droopy with sleep. His hair was disheveled, the most you've seen in a while. He still donned his outfit from the night before, but it was wrinkled and askew.

“You're fine,” Your voice was quiet, “What's up?”

“We think she took him to the Continental.” He spoke, eyes greeting your own.

“Okay, and what is that?” You asked, raising a brow.

“I forget you don't know that world.”John shook his head, “It’s a hotel where people, in my line of work, stay when on a job.” He spoke carefully. You felt your anxiety peak a little before nodding.

“And that's where he is?” Your voice cracked, but you cleared your throat afterwards.

“Yes baby, but they can't kill on company grounds. It's the rules. All three of us can go there, you’ll be safe.” The man, without moving you, adjusted your chair to face him better and kneeled in front of your figure.

“I don’t think I should go.” You rushed, shaking your head.

“James will want to see you. You're a motherly figure to him. He’s told me he likes to cuddle you more.” Your boyfriend gave you a small smile, trying to sway your decision.

“He only likes me more because I currently have a huge rack for him to lay his head on.” You deadpanned. Aurelios muffled laughter echoed from the kitchen area, and John shook his head trying not to chuckle himself. James did like to rest his head on top of your chest, it's just much more squishy and comfortable. You didn't blame the boy for taking advantage of your built in pillows; his father does the same thing.

“He needs you,” John spoke, his hand resting on your thigh. You sighed, giving in to the gripe.

“Okay, I’ll go. But- I can't be on my feet for long, And once we get back our son; you're taking me to McDonalds.” You huffed. John let out a soft chuckle, standing up and grasping your hand. The man helped you stand as well, steadying your figure as you did so.

“We can take my truck.” Aurelio commented, rustling his keys. John nodded towards the man, as if thanking him, before grabbing your coat and helping you put it on.

---

“So, what is she like?” You spoke aloud, not necessarily asking someone specifically. You were stuck in traffic, typical of New York. Aurelio and John sat up front while you sat in the back. The radio was quietly playing a classic rock song, filling the silence between the question and answer.

“She was nice. She took care of us. Patched us up many times and cooked for us after jobs. But after the… accident... she changed.” Aurelio was the first to answer. You glanced at your boyfriend who kept his glare focused outside. His face, from what you could see, didn't hold any emotion.

“May I ask what the accident was?” You then asked, turning your attention back toward the driver. His eyes quickly looked towards his friend before back at the road. You shifted your sight between the two men, wondering what Aurelio had just silently spoken to your boyfriend. John let out a quiet sigh, knowing it was his turn to speak.

“She got injured. Nearly killed. Shot in the spine, abdomen, and shoulder. When we got her to the hospital, they didn't think she'd live. She fell into a coma for five weeks before waking up.” He paused, “She got better; but she was different. She was meaner, more malicious with her contracts; using the most painful torture in her method. Dragging out the kill for the sake of pure enjoyment. She wasn't the same Helen.” Music filled the silence as you let John's story soak in. The air felt heavy and thick in the lull of noise.

You leaned forward, gently placing your hand onto John's shoulder and giving it a soft squeeze. You didn't know the man's entire history, mostly from not wanting to intrude, but from what you've gathered; it's been rough. He deserves all the love he receives.

John gently rested his cheek against your hand, and you smiled softly at the feeling, using your thumb to rub his skin.

Aurelio parked on the side of the street, prompting the three of you to exit the vehicle. John gently placed his hand on the small of your back, guiding your waddling figure towards a large building. A few people shifted in and out of the entrance dressed in black, fancy articles of clothing. It was tall, and the architecture was unique compared to the surrounding buildings.

Aurelio held open the door and John led the way in, you close behind. The first thing you noticed was the immaculate lobby. A little more than a handful of people were scattered throughout the space. At the sound of the door opening, their eyes studied the three of you making your way to the front desk. You couldn't help but notice their jarring stares pointed towards John, as though they were intimidated.

Your boyfriend kept his eyes pointed towards the man behind the counter; who held a tight grin.

“Mr. Wick.” The man greeted, also nodding towards Aurelio. His eyes merely glanced at your figure, as you were mostly hiding behind John.

“Charon.” John spoke in return, “What room is she in?” It wasn't a question, it was a demand. You could tell by his ever so monotone voice.

“Three-hundred twenty-three.” His accent was though he spoke in cursive. He handed John the room-key, once again scanning his eyes over you and Aurelio. You rest a hand on your belly, rubbing the top self consciously. John put his hand on the small of your back, nodding towards Charon before leading you away from the desk and in the direction of the elevators.

The three of you remained quiet the entire ride. This was the first elevator you've been in that didn't play music. It was strange to hear only the creak of the wires and squeak of the gears. Your anxiety seemed to raise the same as you did. Every floor you gained, you felt your chest tighten more. You took a silent deep breath, feeling the elevator come to a halt and watch as the doors peeled open. Aurelio stepped out first, John following close behind. You came last, waddling slowly behind the men, letting them stagger ahead first.

Aurelio quickly approached the door, grabbing the key from John and unlocking the door. You watched as your boyfriend grabbed a pistol from the back of pants, tucked in between his undershirt and jeans, and held it ready. Aurelio nodded at the man before he pushed the door open. John ran in first, his gun raised. The mechanic gestured for you to follow, before going in himself.

The first thing you saw was James sitting by himself at a small table. Crayons were scattered across the surface, as well as many colored on pages from a coloring book. The rest of the hotel room seemed clean and organized. There were a few things left out, like clothes and personal items.

“James!” You cried in relief, watching as the boy looked up from his work and smiled; instantly recognizing the three of you. He quickly hopped off the chair, sprinting towards you and John. You knelt down, as fast as you could manage, capturing the boy in an embrace. You could feel as he snuggled his head into your neck, wrapping his arms tightly around your shoulders.

“Hi baby,” You cooed, rubbing his back. Tears threatened to spill over your cheeks, feeling as the boy began to sniffle himself. You gently shushed the cries of his that began to make themselves known, rocking his figure as best you could.

“I missed you,” He hiccuped, muffled in your neck.

“Oh we missed you too. So much, baby, so much.” You let a few voice cracks escape, still holding James close.

John and Aurelio shuffled around the room, looking for the woman. However, John’s yell of frustration gave you the suspicion she wasn't here. You could hear the two men speaking in the bathroom, but it was muffled. It sounded heated, however.

“John?” You called out, standing up. James kept his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, head resting against your body. Both Aurelio and John emerged, anger sketched across their faces.

“Can we go?” You asked, gesturing to the boy attached to your body. Your boyfriends eyes softened at the sight of his son clung tightly to you and nodded, giving one last look around the hotel room.

The weight of James’ figure squished your own, but you didn't let the discomfort bother you too much. You were just glad to have him back in your arms; on Christmas. John had lit the fireplace, leaving you and James to snuggle while he sat next to your figures.

Helen got away. Well, they don't know where she went, but she got away nonetheless. You could see the visible frustration radiating from your boyfriend's body. Him not confronting her now means she's only going to come back later. What if she comes when you're alone? or worse; alone with the baby. It's John’s responsibility to protect James, and he failed. Now, he has to protect you and a baby as well. It's obvious he has a lot on his mind currently.

After all of you returned to Johns home safely, Aurelio left. He decided to give you some family time to recover from the events. He also promised he'd get a jumpstart on finding her whereabouts, almost commanding John to take some time off for the two of you; Just until they had a solid lead. While in the bathroom together, back at the hotel, they discussed what John feared the most; killing Helen.

Aurelio made the point that her illness, since the accident, is only presenting to get worse. She's showing no signs of healing. Her mind is so twisted and sick, he only wanted to get her help. It hurts John so deeply to have it come to this. He didn't want to kill the mother of his son.

“I think he’s asleep,” You hummed quietly, gaterthing John's attention. His eyes smiled upon seeing his son sleeping soundly, head resting on your chest.

“Do you want me to carry him to bed?” John whispered, scooting closer to your figures and getting ready to scoop up the boy. You sat up so he had a better angle and watched as your boyfriend scooped his son effortlessly. You stood up afterwards, following him to James’ room. Watching from the door, you witnessed as John gently laid the boy down, tucking the blankets over his little body. The man kissed the top of his son's head, prompting a smile to cover your cheeks.

John stood back up and made his way towards the door, first leaning down and turning on James’ Spider-Man themed night light. You stepped aside, allowing space for the man as he exited the room, resting your hand on top of your belly. John emerged, eyes softening at the sight of you.

“Hi,” He spoke barely above a whisper. You smiled in response, rubbing the side of your tummy the baby was kicking. He placed a hand on your lower back, kissing the top of your head before guiding you towards his bedroom.

“What a day we've had.” You murmured, hands resting on your bump as you waddled through the door and towards your side of the bed.

“Let’s just be glad it's over. For now. And James is safe. I’m going to have a few friends I know install a better security system as soon as I can.” He paused, looking over in your direction momentarily, “We need to focus on us now, on you and our new baby.” John finished, slipping out of his day clothes, having already set out his pajamas.

You took the moment to admire your boyfriend. His strong arms, in particular his biceps, always gave you a tingle. His still toned torso with a bit of dad chub caused you to bite your lip, and the dark trail of hair that led to his crotch made the tingle sensation intensify.

“Any day now and she could arrive.” You hummed, blinking away the thirsty thoughts. “It’s kind of frightening.”

“You shouldn't be scared.” John quickly chimed, walking to your side and easing you to sit. He began undressing for you, helping you get changed to your comfortable pajamas.

“It gives me anxiety; the thought of the pain and being a mother so soon. My chest gets all-” You paused, squeezing your fist closed and holding it up “-tight.”

“I can’t protect you from the pain.” Your boyfriend began, “But you can hurt me as much as you need to, to get through it. Break my hand and whatnot.” He humored towards the end. You chuckled, shaking your head.

“I appreciate it, baby. I’ll definitely need you. Because, honestly,” You paused, feeling a little somber emotion pass through, “I don’t think I could do this alone.” John didn't answer immediately, instead; he kissed the top of your head, sitting on the bed next to your and pulling you into a hug.

“I love you, (Y/N).” John's deep voice caused chills to over your body and a smile to creep on your face. This was the first time John has told you.

“I love you too, John.” You answered, raising your hand and pulling the man in for a kiss by gently leading his chin. His beard scratched your cheeks, but you loved the sensation.

January 3rd - 8:17am

Dull gray snowflakes fell outside as the dawn had lightened the sky just enough to reveal snowfall from the night before. A quiet sigh fell past your lips as you blew onto the mug of decaf coffee in your grasp. Taking a sip, the hot beverage seared down your throat and warmed up your chilly figure. Your free hand gently rubbed your large belly, feeling the baby kicking staggardly but repeatedly.

It’d been over a week since James’ kidnapping. Helen hadn't made herself known again, and a source at the hotel had told John that she left. Aurelio has no whereabouts on the woman either. She seems to have left town. Or at least, gone into hiding. John expressed that she may come back. However, just as promised, he had the new security system installed a few days ago.

James hasn't left yours or John's sight since, either. When he isn't asleep, he's always with one of you. It was fun though, you played games and made crafts. Mostly things that didn't require you to stand up. He helped you add final touches to the nursery as well; picking out toys and stuffed animals online.

He didn't seem to be too affected by the kidnapping, either. Which was good. There have been a few nights when he's come in and snuggled between you, your pregnancy pillow, and John. But, the next morning he's back to his cheery self.

A slight cramp in your lower belly caught your attention and you groaned from the pain, adjusting your position at the kitchen table. Pelvic pains, or lower abdomen pain in general, aren't a new thing; being the fact that you're due in a little under a week. This one felt different though, more along the lines of a period cramp. The doctor warned that contractions will start to get more painful as your body prepares for birth; It’s a sign of labor. She also told you not to come until there are at least seven minutes between the cramps. Something about new moms trying to be admitted when they're only one centimeter dilated.

“Morning,” A sleep James’ voice distracted your thoughts and you turned your head to see the boy entering the kitchen, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Good morning, Honey.” You smiled. He tiredly stomped over to your sitting figure and sat in the chair next to your own.

“Can I get you some juice?” You asked softly, gently combing some hair from his eyes.

“Do we have any apple juice?” He mumbled, yawning at the end. You nodded, standing up with a huff and waddling towards the fridge.

“You should be sitting.” John's deep voice echoed throughout the space and you turned to see your boyfriend leaning against the doorframe with a small smile. To keep in shape, John had started going on early morning jogs. You argued he didn't need to, enjoying the minor holiday chub that barely changed his appearance. But he still went this morning, leaving around six. He must've just gotten home.

“Sitting hurts too. Everything hurts. I’m ready for this baby to get out.” You hummed at the end, opening the appliance in front of you and grabbing the apple juice. You heard as John grabbed James’ cup and turned to see him holding it out for you.

“How do you feel today?” He asked softly as you grabbed the cup.

“I slept a total of four hours last night, and I'm pretty sure I experienced my first real contraction.” You replied, pouring the drink before waddling back to the table and giving the cup to James.

“Contractions already?” Your boyfriend commented, grabbing a peach from the fruit bowl and began slicing the skin off.

“Baby, I've been having contractions for a couple weeks now. This one was like… actual labor, I think.” You spoke, sitting back down at the table and sipping your coffee.

“You're not freaking out?” John humored, joining you and James at the table. He lovingly placed a hand on the side of your belly, giving it a slight rub with his thumb before pulling away.

“Nope, the doctor advised against that,” You began, “Darling, you read the book with me. You should know, when they get in between that five to seven minute range, it’s go time.” You smiled softly at him, feeling another contraction beginning to rear its ugly head.

“What’s a contraction?” James’ tiny voice echoed. He’d been so quiet drinking his juice, you'd nearly forgotten he was there.

“Oh, it’s when a baby inside a mommy tells her ‘Hey! I’m ready to come out!’.” You gently explained. Your time as an elementary school teacher has given you experience explaining complicated subjects to children. John even seemed impressed at your silly explanation. He grabbed your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, intertwining your fingers.

“Oh. Is your baby wanting to come out?” He asked innocently. You nodded with a smile, rubbing your belly. The cramp was starting to gain momentum, becoming more painful by the second before releasing and calming down to normal. You hadn't noticed that you squeezed John’s hand; but you released with an apologetic smile. He dismissed it quietly, giving you a squeeze of reassurance in return.

“Yes, she is.” You smiled, “Are you excited to meet her?” You then questioned.

“I get to meet her?” He questioned, perking up. Both you and John nodded, causing the boy to squeal from excitement.

“Oh, whoa.” You quickly exhaled, leaning onto the wall as a strong contraction hit. It’s only been three hours since they actually began, but the pain has grown with each passing one. Not to forget, your water broke only five minutes ago. You hadn't told John yet; actually, you were on your way to find him when the contraction started.

“Are you okay?” James’ quiet voice innocently asked, walking up behind you. You looked down at the sweet boy, nodding in pain.

“Yeah baby, I’m okay.” You managed to murmur. The boy gently pat your arm, trying to give comfort, even though he didn't really understand what you were going through.

“Where's dad?” You questioned, letting out a breath you'd been holding as the contraction passed. You gently ran your fingers through his hair, clearing his vision.

“He’s downstairs.” He smiled, fiddling with a toy helicopter he had in his grasp. You nodded and waddled your way towards the basement stairs. Somehow, you carefully and safely got to the bottom step, turning to see your boyfriend sat at the little book binding desk.

“John?” You questioned, causing the man to turn around.

“How did you get down the stairs?” He questioned genuinely, standing up and quickly stepping over to you. The man gently placed his hand onto your back, guiding you towards the chair he’d been sitting in and sat you into it.

“Slowly.” You commented with a sigh, placing a hand over your belly.

“Did you change?” He questioned, eyes scanning you over.

“Oh, yeah,” You shrugged, “My water broke.” John's silence caused you to glance at him. You could see he was holding back a comment, as you asked him to earlier. The reason he came to the basement in the first place was because you kept refusing his attempts to take you to the hospital, and he got frustrated.

“What?” You pursued, leaning forward.

“I just think we should go take a look-” John began, but you cut him off.

“Baby, I’m fine- OH.” Another painful contraction stung your abdomen and lower back, cutting off whatever else you were about to say. John's hands quickly found themselves on your body; one rubbing your back, the other giving your hand something to squeeze. Your boyfriend helped you breathe through the contraction, whispering words of endearment as he did so. The pain ended soon enough, allowing you to exhale in relief.

“How many minutes was that?” He questioned, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear.

“That was eight.” You answered, looking at an old clock John had hung. Nerves fluttered across your stomach, however a smile grew across your boyfriends face.

“We're so close, please, Let’s go have a baby.” John spoke softly, kneeling in front of your figure and gently placing his hand on your bump.

“John- I’m… I’m scared.” You whispered after a few moments of silence. The man had been preoccupied loving on your bump before you interrupted. Your boyfriends dark eyes met your own, softening at the sight of your fearful expression. He kept eye contact as he grasped your hand into his own and kissed the top of it.

“(Y/N), I will be right by your side the entire time. It’s going to suck, and be painful. But, darling,” John paused, his fingers gently brushing your cheek, “We’re going to have a little girl.”

Soft tears prickled your eyes as the hormones took over and you nodded, sniffling in the process. John’s tenderness and promise of protection only eased your fears. It was time to go have a baby.

The snow falling outside cast gray hues into the room; contrasting with the fluorescent lighting. It was quiet; not even the TV was on. The only noises that echoed were the sounds of the busy city hospital outside, and the beeps of the machines monitoring your vitals.

A wave of pain caused you to groan as you leaned over an exercise ball the hospital provided you for comfort. John's gentle words of encouragement only angered your pained self, but you held it down; knowing he was only trying to help and you're only agitated by being in incredible pain.

It’s been almost four hours since you arrived at the hospital. Your progression is going well; you’re seven centimeters dilated now. The nurse that's been monitoring you said she's never seen a first time mother dilate so quickly. John hasn't left your side; save to get you water.

It kind of blew your mind- when you actually had a moment of clarity between contractions- looking back on yours and John's story. Your boyfriend was standing near the window, gazing out at the snow storm when it all hit you. You are in love with John Wick. The man who literally kills people as his career, but is the most loving and gentle soul to the people and creatures he cares about. John stepped up for you, took care of you and your baby unprompted, helped you come to terms with your husband's death and gave you a new life to start. Becoming a mother figure to James was a sweeter part of the situation. Even as only his teacher, pre John; you had a soft spot for him.

As for James’ whereabouts; John texted Aurelio to watch the boy for the time being; and bring him after the baby has been born. The two of you agreed you didn't want him to be stuck at the hospital, when Aurelio could entertain him.

“When do I get the epidural?” You moaned, trying to position yourself on the ball so the pain would ease.

“Well, I think now would be okay. You seem to be chugging along with no hiccups.” The nurse answered, walking into the room just as you complained.

“Thank god,” You exhaled as the contraction passed. John helped you stand and kept you balanced as you waddled to the bed, then climbed on.

“I need to go gather the supplies, I’ll be right back, Honey.” The nurse spoke gently, prompting you to nod at her in response. The sound of the hospital room door closing echoed around the quiet space and you let out a sigh, leaning back on the bed.

“You look so beautiful.” John murmured, standing beside you. His hand gently raised and pushed away some sweat-soaked locks that covered your eyes.

“I feel awful.” You glared at the man. He discarded away your negativity, leaning forward and kissing your sweaty forehead. Another contraction began to pain you once again, prompting you to squeeze your eyes shut from the unpleasant sensation. John felt as you held his hand tightly, but you barely hurt him. His hands have been through worse over the years.

The nurse returned shortly after your contraction ended. She pushed in a small tray carrying the needed instruments, quickly pulling on gloves and setting up the shot. John helped you position so you sat up with your feet hanging off the side of the bed; making sure the hospital gown still covered your front.

“You're going to feel a painful pinch, hardly compared to what you've been feeling.” The nurse spoke, rolling the tray behind you. The sounds of her fussing with the needle and instrument gave you a mild anxiety. John stood by your side, holding your hand as you gripped his tightly.

“First time?” She asked after a few moments, rubbing a small alcohol soaked napkin onto the spot she was going to pierce.

“Yeah,” You murmured, squirming at the cold feeling and looking up towards John. His eyes softened, moving from glaring at the large needle to meeting your gaze.

“I remember my first baby.” The nurse spoke, making small talk as a distraction, “He was ten pounds with a big head.” You felt as the needle pinched your skin, causing you to whimper and grab your boyfriend's hand tighter. John kissed the top of your head just as the nurse removed the instrument, tossing it into the designated trash bin.

“That sounds like a nightmare.” You breathed, relaxing slightly and finally getting a good look at the nurse. She was older, donned white hair that'd been styled into a long braid over her shoulder. She also wore pink scrubs, with little flowers patterning the fabric.

“Now he’s six foot three and plays college football. The first baby is always so special, do you know the gender?” She smiled, cleaning up the remaining items. Her eyes looked up, watching as John closed your hospital gown. She noted the maturity across your boyfriend's face, and how much younger you seemed. It caused her to furrow her brow a bit, questioning how you ended up together.

“It’s a girl.” You rubbed the top of your belly; ignoring the dull throb from the epidural.

“You two must be very excited.” She mused, shucking her gloves off and tossing them into the trash.

“More ready for it to be over, at this point.” You chuckled dryly, laying back into a semi-comfortable position. The older woman gave you a look of pity, but followed with a few encouraging words before grabbing the tray she came with and leaving the room.

The epidural acted quickly, numbing you from your pelvis down. John had to carry you back to the bed after you'd taken a short lap around the hospital, due to the shot kicking in. The nurse recommended that you take a walk to help things progress along as the epidural kicks in, but you didn't expect to not be able to use your legs halfway through. Your boyfriend lovingly carried you the remainder of the lap, extremely gentle with his movements.

Three short knocks distracted you from a minor contraction as a different nurse from earlier walked back in. She smiled warmly at you and John, greeting the two of you.

“How’re you miss (Y/L/N)?” She nodded, quickly washing her hands and pulling on gloves.

“Tired,” You exhaled, looking towards the woman. She was younger than the last nurse; probably closer to your age, thirty-two.

“Oh, honey, you're not even to the thick of it.” She mused, approaching your figure. “Dad, if I could have you place mom’s legs in the stirrups. I’m going to check how dilated you are, sweetie.” Her arms waved at John, encouraging him. The man was quick to do so, returning to your side by the top of the bed.

Thankfully, you couldn't feel anything as she got to work; the epidural kicking in nicely. John gently pushed some sweat soaked strands from your face, eyes scanning over your face lovingly.

He secretly loved that the nurse called him ‘Dad’ and you ‘Mom’. It felt right; as though everything had fallen into place perfectly. After Helen left him and Jame, he didn't expect to find someone again. Someone who made him feel again. He was glad that nanny didn't show up to school to pick up James that afternoon; He was glad that he met you, the wonderful Miss (Y/L/N). Your baby was an added bonus. He had a little family now- a whole family.

“Alright Missy, you are a full ten!” The nurse smiled, standing up and shucking off the gloves. “You are ready to go!” Your heart began to race and you sat up as best you could manage in the bed, with your legs being numb and in stirrups. ready to go? Are you actually ready to give birth? Your eyes met John's full of fear. His face softened, noting the horror sketched across your own. His hand gently ran across your cheek as he leaned down, kissing your forehead.

“Let’s go have a baby.” John's voice calmed you instantly, knowing this man was by your side for good.

The nurse called other staffers to begin the process. Firstly, they moved you to the delivery room; pulling on face and hair masks. You requested that John stayed in with you, forcing him to change into the big green smock and a face mask with his hair pulled back into a small bun. It was kind of cute.

The staff got into their positions quickly. Two nurses stood by your legs that were spread in stirrups, the doctor was in between them, ready to command you to push. A few others stood in the background, ready to take the baby for the initial testing and cleaning once born.

“Okay, (Y/N), I want you to push on three, two, one!” The doctor's voice was loud, startling you into pushing. Pain, like no other, seared through the spots the epidural hadn't hit. All your mind could focus on now was getting this baby out, and getting her out as soon as possible. John stood by your side, words of encouragement hammering your ears as you death gripped his hand and the bed railing.

It was all overwhelming; the staff yelling at you to push, John’s constant string of positivity, the fact there's a baby coming out of your body. Your instincts told you to ignore the sounds and try to remain focused on your baby. Following your contractions, you pushed, and pushed, and pushed.

What felt like twenty minutes had passed, but in reality it was only a short time. The feeling of pressure being released and the warm weight of the baby pressed against your nearly bare chest immediately brought you to tears. She was here, your baby was here.

“Dad, want to cut the cord?” The nurse from earlier asked, handing John the scissors. He looked at you for a brief second; silently asking permission. You nodded, and the man quickly got to work. Your daughter's first cries erupted across the room, however a nurse grabbed her from your chest gently, taking her over to perform the quick testing they have to do.

“I’m so proud of you,” John’s voice broke as he spoke and your hazy eyes glazed over his face. Little glimmers of tears were evident in his dark eyes, just shy of spilling. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“Hmm, how does Mary sound?” You questioned, your pointer finger gently playing with the bottom lip of your baby as she slept in your arms. It’s been three hours since you gave birth. Since then, James, and Aurelio, have been to visit the new baby. James loves his new baby sister- which he called her himself, Neither you or John told him to.

“She looks like a Peggie to me.” John commented, fingers ever so gently playing with a black tuft of hair atop her head. Your ex-husband had dark black hair; you're secretly glad she got that trait.

“That’s such a granny name.” You giggled, looking up to your boyfriend, “You're such an old man.” John faked hurt at the comment but chuckled it off. James stood by his father, eyes widely looking at the new baby. He was excited about her, excited to be a big brother as well.

“I’ve always liked Heather?” You suggested next. John didn't make an immediate comment, instead looking at the chubby cheeks of his new baby. A little smile crossed his cheeks and he nodded.

“Yes, Heather. I like it.” He smiled. You gently offered for him to grab the baby, and he complied. She looked so tiny in his grasp, like a little doll. Your heart swelled with love upon seeing your boyfriend holding and showing off Heather to James. You have a family now.

Despite the awful things that happened over the past year, things worked out in the end. What mattered most was that right now, the three- now four- of you were happy.

71 notes · View notes

mychemicalrachel · 5 years ago

Text

Right Now

Part One

Read on ao3!

Part Two; The Talk

Time doesn’t stop for accidents.

That’s what his dad used to say. Sometimes they were words grumbled irritably, or sighed, or shouted. It didn’t make much sense to Buck at the time. It was just one of those things parents say, like “raining cats and dogs” or “it’s five o’clock somewhere.”

Time doesn’t stop for accidents.

“It means that the world doesn’t stop turning just because you made a mistake,” Maddie had patiently explained to him once. “Accidents happen, but life goes on. It means you have to just keep going.”

Time had certainly felt frozen within the confines of the hospital, but as soon as they step outside, the bright light of day hits Buck and he realizes that while he had been inside with Eddie, the world had been spinning without them.

And still now, it turns around him.

The ride of the firehouse passes in silence, but inside Buck’s head there is anything but quiet. He wonders what the hell he’s going to say to Christopher.

He needs to be honest, as honest as possible, but reassuring. Though his own thoughts and fears are screaming a thousand what ifs, Buck knows he has to push those down and remain optimistic. More than just for Chris, but for himself. He doesn’t want to imagine the dark places his mind will go if he allows it.

When Athena pulls the cruiser to a stop next to Buck’s jeep outside the station, she turns the car off but neither of them moves to get out.

“Thanks for the ride,” he says.

Athena nods. “You need me to wait?” she asks. “I can take you to Eddie’s.”

The word yes is on the tip of his tongue. There’s a part of Buck that wants to scream it. He wants to push all of this off onto someone else, make it someone else’s responsibility, someone else’s problem.

Eventually he says no, because he knows that if he accepts the ride, she’ll offer to come inside with him. She’ll offer to break the news to Chris. She’ll offer anything he needs.

And he’s afraid he just might take it.

A slim hand reaches across the small space to rest on his arm; it’s smaller than his, but it feels so much stronger.

“You call me if you need anything,” she tells him.

He nods.

“Buck,” she says, and waits until he looks up at her. Then she repeats, “Anything. I’m serious.”

He swallows down the emotions clawing at his throat again. “Thanks, Athena.”

And then he flees the car before she can offer anything else. Already, it feels like she’s given so much.

One of the trucks is out, for which Buck is thankful because it means half the crew is gone. He can see the rest upstairs in the kitchen, can hear the crack of balls knocking together on the pool table, and someone distantly laughs at an unheard joke.

He wonders if anyone told them about Eddie, but realizes that it doesn’t matter. He knows their names and faces, has worked beside them on occasion, but the people here aren’t his family, not like his own team is. Hen and Chimney are probably already back at home, recuperating from a long shift, maybe making plans to visit Eddie again in a day or two. Buck knows already that he’ll be making the trip again tonight.

The showers are empty; another small blessing Buck is ready to take for granted. He turns the water as hot as he can stand and lets it pour over him, staining his skin a furious red.

He wishes he could stop time, rewind it, save Eddie from ever putting him in this position, because as scared as he is right now, he’s also pissed. At Eddie, at himself. He feels like a bomb and when he explodes, it’ll endanger anyone standing too close.

It was unfair of Eddie to ask him to be Christopher’s godfather in the first place. As much as he loves Chris, would do anything for him, he feels helpless. During the tsunami, with the water all around them, Buck’s instincts had kicked in. They had told him to grab Christopher, to not let go, to hold him as tight as he could.

But this… this is so different. There are no instincts for this. He’s not sure he’s strong enough to hold Chris together, no matter how tight he holds.

At the time, signing the papers to become Christopher’s legal guardian in an emergency was a safety net. But now it didn’t feel like a net; it felt like a noose.

“Fuck!” Buck yells and before he can even think, his fist is flashing forward and connecting with the wall. A speck of blood shines on the tile and he looks down to see the split on his knuckle. It washes away in the spray of the shower, and with it his anger seems to disappear.

None of this is fair. Not the fact that Eddie might die, that Chris might lose his only remaining parent, that Buck has to be the one to tell him. It’s not fair that Buck might lose his best friend. He wants to scream and yet his chest feels so tight he can barely breathe.

It takes a few more minutes before Buck can bring himself to leave the shower, and a few minutes longer to put on his spare clothes. The smell of smoke still seems to linger in his nose.

The entire drive to the Diaz house, Buck tries again to think of what he might say. He grapples with all of the usual condolences, but quickly pushes them aside when they all sound fake coming from his mouth. By the time he’s stopping the Jeep next to Carla’s minivan, Buck is no closer to a plan than he was an hour ago.

Then again, Buck has always done his best work diving in blind and making it up as he goes along.

He lets himself in with the spare key Eddie had given him long ago. It’s well worn, hanging snugly next to the key for his own apartment, but this time the metal feels heavier in his hand. The sound of quiet voices leads Buck toward the kitchen and as he nears he can smell something tomatoey wafting over from the stove. He realizes he hasn’t eaten since this morning, but the smell of it just makes his stomach churn.

Christopher is leaning back in a chair at the kitchen table, a yellow pencil in his hand that he waves around to accentuate whatever point he’s currently trying to make. He’s so like Eddie in that way, always talking with his hands. Carla sits opposite him, her chin resting on her hand, listening intently.

There’s a small smile on her face that freezes when she looks up, spotting Buck. It’s a miracle he thinks that she manages to keep it at all, though it turns stiff.

Christopher notices and twists around in his seat. “Hey dad,” he says, but the words die on his lips. A smile stretches across his face and Buck’s heart breaks just a little bit more. “Buck!” he exclaims. He starts to grab his crutches, but Buck steps closer.

He runs his fingers through Christopher’s curls, dropping a kiss to the top of his head. “Hey, buddy.”

Carla catches Buck’s gaze and quickly stands. “I made some spaghetti,” she says. “Chris has already eaten, but it can be warmed up easy peasy for later on.” She makes her way around the table and Buck has a brief moment’s worry that she’s going to offer to stay, and then he’ll say yes. But she simply says, “I guess I should be heading home. Call me if you need anything.”

And just like that, Buck and Christopher are alone. Carefully, Buck sits down opposite Chris. All the time he spent trying to figure out a good way to say this and still, Buck is empty-handed. He has no idea where to start or end.

Christopher swings his legs under the table and asks, “Is Dad here yet? I wanted to show him the grade I got on my math test. Look.” He shoves a paper toward Buck, a gleaming red A+ on the top. Buck feels pride and dread swell in his chest. He braces himself.

“You know what your dad and I do for a living, right?” Buck asks. “Being a firefighter, all the stuff it entails.”

Christopher nods and settles Buck with a dumb look. “You fight fires. It’s in the name.”

Buck laughs. “Yeah, that’s right, buddy. And, you know, you’ve learned about fires. How dangerous they can be.”

Again Christopher just nods.

Buck hates himself, every single cell in his body, for having to tell Chris this.

“Well today, something happened at work. Your dad got hurt.”

There’s a silence as Buck lets Christopher process this. The pencil in his hand falls to the table. Tears swell behind his glasses and Christopher’s shoulders start to shake. “Daddy’s dead?”

Shit.

“No!” Buck moves quickly around the table, scooping Chris up in his arms, pulling him into his lap. Shit shit shit. He definitely should have started with that. “Chris, buddy, no. Your daddy is okay. He’s not dead. I’m so sorry I made you think that. No, he’s alive, Christopher.” He is the absolute worst person in the universe. He rocks Christopher back and forth.

He holds Chris until the crying calms down and he asks, through hiccupped breaths, “He’s okay?”

“Yes,” Buck says, “yes, he is okay. I promise you, your dad is okay.”

Buck wants to rewind time, he wants to try all of this again and make it better, make it right. But time doesn’t stop for accidents and it certainly doesn’t rewind. He holds Christopher closer to his chest.

“Where is he?” Christopher asks. “I want to see him.”

“Of course,” Buck says, because this, at least, he expected. “We can go see him. He’s in the hospital right now. But buddy,” he shifts the boy on his lap, trying to look at him and really make sure he understands what Buck is about to say. “Do you know what a coma is?”

Christopher shakes his head. His cheeks are as red as his glasses and his eyes still glimmer with tears.

“A coma is when the body goes to sleep so that it can focus on healing itself. Right now, your dad is asleep so that his body can focus all of its energy on him getting better.”

Christopher sniffles and seems to accept this. “How long will he be asleep for?”

Buck curses the tears that prick at his vision, the lump that arises in his throat. “I don’t know,” he admits.

“What if he doesn’t wake up?”

A part of Buck wants to be angry, another piece sad, but overall he can’t blame Christopher for wondering because he had been asking the same fucking question this entire time.

Now, he pushes all of those doubts and fears he had aside. He musters up all of the strength he has to look into Christopher’s big brown eyes that look so much like his father’s. “You and your dad are the two strongest people I know,” he says. “I know that he’s going to do everything he can to come back to you because he loves you more than anything in the world. And you… well, you’re Superman, right?”

Christopher looks doubtful, but he nods slowly. “I’m Superman.” Then he raises his arms to return Buck’s hug and says, “You’re strong, too.”

He chuckles and tries not to cry. He needs to be strong for Christopher, but right now, he’s not sure he’s ever felt weaker.

#It took me a month to write this chapter #please read it #buddie #my fics #right now #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buck x eddie

16 notes · View notes

blueroseblaze · 5 years ago

Text

Please Don’t Take Her (Part 2)

Word Count: 1648

WARNING: angst, sadness, torturing Nero mentally and emotionally, hospital setting, pregnancy complications

Tags:@dylan-o-yumm, @ceruleanworld, @shadowrosess

Nero thrashed against the nurses and doctors as his beloved wife was wheeled away on the stretcher. As she disappeared through the doors he collapsed to his knees, still writhing against the people holding him back. He didn’t listen to their pleas for him to hold still, and he was close to hurting somebody. But even in his panicked and feared state, all he could do was to continue to struggle against the arms around him. He could use his demon strength he could devil trigger right now. But what good would it do? He reached out towards the still swinging doors, desperate to escape the holds of the hospital staff and be with his love.

His love. His wife. His babies. Gone from his grasp, and he watched them get taken away. His eye’s burned with tears and his throat grew more and sorer as he yelled and berated the staff. But he didn’t care.

“I have to go with her!” he cried, “That’s my wife!”

“Sir please calm down,” one nurse said, though it fell on deaf ears.

“Please! Please let me go!” he kept yelling, “I’m the father! I’m the father!”

“Sir! You must calm down!”

He grew more and more unruly; the demands of the nurses and doctors slowly turned his fear into a rage as they continued to hold him down. He tried to keep control of himself, but he could feel his demonic blood boil as he began to shake. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, even accidentally, but each voice clouding his head only served to feed the beast within him.

“NERO!”

A familiar voice broke through the commotion, and Nero froze. The whole room went quiet and Nero turned towards the voice. The long red coat stood out against the white sterile waiting room, like a beacon of hope in this despair. Nero relaxed and the arms around him fell away. He panted and, in the stillness, he finally was able to let himself go. He felt his damn crumble away as he let himself cry fully. He stumbled away from the hospital staff that held him and into the arms of his uncle where he sobbed uncontrollably.

Dante’s arms encased his nephew, keeping him upright and allowing him to cry his heart out. All the fear and worry coming from his nephew he absorbed. His hand went to Nero’s head, rubbing his hair comfortingly as he hushed the crying young man. Nero mumbled something though Dante couldn’t hear it through his sobs. Dante hushed him softly, letting him know he could let it all out with no shame.

He led Nero to a row of waiting room chairs, urging him to sit down before he passed out. Nero kept his head on this uncle's shoulder, refusing to let go of him. Like a child that had finally found their lost parent in a crowded space. He sniffled and hiccupped into the aged red leather. Through his runny nose, he could smell the worn material and it provided some semblance of comfort and familiarity. Dante’s arm never left Nero’s back as he rubbed his hand up and down. He even gave a few pats then and there.

“I know, kid. I’m right here,” the old hunter said softly, “It’ll be okay.”

It had been some time since they had arrived at the hospital. Nero sat anxiously in the waiting room chairs. No part of him could hold still. Whether it be his leg bouncing or his fingers drumming on the armrest, or even his whole body subtly vibrating. He had stopped crying about an hour ago, but his eyes still burned, and his nose and forehead throbbed with congestion. Dante had offered him a coffee, but he starkly refused, worried that anything in his stomach would end up on the floor.

He tried occupying himself, he really did. Each magazine article he read just turned into alphabet soup on the page. Each news story on the wall-mounted tv went in one ear and out the other. Nothing could quench his utter fear at what was happening to his wife and twins. Merely thinking about it was enough to have his eyes burning with tears again.

If Nero ever prayed in his life. It would be now. Not during the boring sermons in church back on Fortuna, not before bed when he lived in the barracks while training to be a holy knight, but here and now, staring into a bright fluorescent light overhead, bearing his soul to whatever god or demon that be. He didn’t even know what for. He didn’t want to give even a modicum of thought to the idea that she or the twins wouldn’t pull through. They had to be alright… they had to be.

“Please don’t take her,” he whispered.

“Nero?” a voice broke him out of his stupor.

“Yes?” he said, voice shaky and uncertain. He stood quickly, paying no mind to the head rush it gave him.

“Are they okay?” he asked.

The nurse swallowed before speaking, “We had to perform an emergency C-section. Both twins were sent to the NICU, but they are both stable and healthy.”

“What about Y/N?” he asked, growing more worried.

“She is also stable. But she lost a lot of blood, and she is in a coma.”

Nero felt cold. He froze. All the color drains from his face and his stomach dropped to the floor. He felt dead on his feet as his eyes drifted to the floor. The nurse was quick to try and reassure him.

“Comas are a bit unpredictable; they can last anywhere from a few days to a few weeks. But since we were able to stabilize her, we believe she will recover in time.”

Her words did little to bring Nero out of his shocked and hopeless state. Everything before and after the words “she is in a coma,” vanished in thin air. He didn’t even react when Dante came up behind him and guided him down to his chair again before he could collapse. He sat there, holding his head in his hands, staring wide-eyed at the floor. The poor nurse still stood before the two devil hunters, trying to reassure them to little avail.

Finally, after a short near panic attack, Nero raised his head, not hiding his redden and sore eyes.

“Can I see her?” he asked.

“Yes of course,” the nurse replied, “Please, follow me.”

Dante lingered behind in the waiting room while Nero followed the nurse through the doors. The walk through the dull bright hallways lasted for an eternity. The mix of exhaustion and the rush of emotions distorted Nero’s vision. The only clear thing in his sight was the back of the nurse’s head as he lagged behind her. His body felt heavy, his brain felt heavy in his skull as he stumbled through the halls. The corridor stretched impossibly far beyond him, stretching into white oblivion. Where was he even going? When did they last turn? Where was Y/N? Where are his babies?

He heard what he assumed was the nurse’s voice, but he couldn’t make out a single word. It was lost in the sea of his own thoughts and emotions as his mind ran through every scenario, every outcome, every sequential moment leading to where he stood now. Everything he could have done differently to avoid this, everything that he did wrong.

How desperately he wanted this to be a dream, to wake up any moment in bed, with his wife, his hand on her belly feeling their twins kick at his touch. Or better yet, to wake up to the sound of his babies crying from across the room in their crib, desperate for their parent’s attention, and all of this was nothing but a what-if nightmare.

Suddenly the nurse’s voice broke through Nero’s clouded mind as she stopped in front of a door. He nearly ran into her when she stopped, and probably would have just kept walking straight on his own if she had turned.

The nurse gingerly pushed the door open and stepped aside for him to enter. She didn’t enter with him, only shutting the door as quietly as she could behind her. Nero swallowed heavily as he walked over to the bed. His breath felt thick in his lungs when he laid eyes on his wife. His Y/N. The soft light over her bed, illuminating her hair like a halo. Her face was eerily relaxed, and Nero’s stomach churned at the sight. He wanted her to no longer be in pain, to watch her sleep with no discomfort. But not like this, never like this.

His eyes drifted to the IV in her arm, as it draped over her upsettingly flat stomach. Her breaths were slow, deep, and even. And he thanked the universe that she wasn’t hooked up to any breathing tubes. She looked like she finally was comfortable, like how she used to sleep.

He moved towards her bed and lowered himself to his knees. Arms folded, he rested his tired head against them and just stared at her. She looked so peaceful. To just curl up with her, arms tightly woven around her body like ivy, and both of them drifting off to the beat of their hearts, Nero would gladly give his right arm again, and the rest of his body.

His eyes moved to her hand, resting palm up next to her on the sheets, her ring gleaming in the light overhead. His hand found hers and gripped her fingers gently yet firmly. Her hands were warm and for a moment, he was back home, in bed with her, relishing in her warmth as it cradled him beneath the sheets, guiding him over the edge of sleep into unconsciousness.

“Please…” he whispered, “Don’t leave me.”

to be continued...

A/N: YAY! Dante’s here to make things better... right? So I was in a kinda angsty state and this is what came of it. Obviously, it’s from Nero’s POV and what he’s going through, so it’s really wordy with not as much dialogue. I hope I haven’t bored any of you. The next part is going to still be angsty but things will start looking up I promise. Feedback is always appreciated and let me know if you want to be tagged. Thank you so much for reading, and have Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!! :)

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc 5 #devil may cry 5 #dmc nero #nero #nero x reader #dmc nero x reader #dmc fanfic #dmc fanfiction #devil may cry fanfic #devil may cry fanfiction #my fanfic #my writing #my post

73 notes · View notes

barnesxplum-blog · 5 years ago

Note

Imagine being close friends with Seb for 2 years now, but also in love with him. U don’t think he likes u back, so u decide to get urself drunk to confess to him so that he rejects u in the morn. But thing is, he does like u back and is desperately tryin to get u to understand that despite u being in ur drunk denial. If u can, a lotta fluff would be hella cool, xx!

Sorry this took so long @blueskiesbleakeyes! I love this idea, I hope I did it justice :)

Warnings: None (please let me know if there should be some!!)

not my gif!

If hell was a place on Earth it would be here, in this bar, right where you were, engulfing you in it’s hot and merciless flames.

Fine. Perhaps that was a tad melodramatic.

You were sat slumped in the bar stool, twirling the umbrella around in your cocktail glass with a forlorn expression plastered on your face.

You almost regretted accepting Sebastian’s last minute invitation to come here, but the look in his eyes almost dragged the word “yes” out of your mouth against your will.

No one could really say no to Sebastian and not feel terrible for it for at least 3 business days afterwards. Come on. The guy was an unruly puppy confined within in a grown man’s body.

So here you sat, reluctantly watching him smile politely and converse with a group of attractive ladies, all vying for his attention, asking about how he gets into his metal arm and whether he would grow his hair out again.

“How original.” you thought, surprising yourself at how bitter you sounded.

You rolled your eyes as one particularly pretty girl giggled at Sebastian, (who really wasn’t doing anything funny, in your opinion) and gripped his upper arm, getting a good feel of his toned bicep.

Sickening.

You had even reached the point where you had to mentally repeat in a chant like fashion:

“He isn’t yours, Y/N. He is not your boyfriend”

You couldn’t exactly blame her for turning up the charm. Being friends with Sebastian didn’t make you blind to his attractiveness. He was definitely hot, talented, kind, funny and sweet... you knew this and you could see why it would be difficult to resist his charms. What stung the most is that he either refused to accept that he had all of these features, or didn’t believe it at all, forever shrugging off compliments and burying his head in his hands whenever fans or interviewers would flirt with him.

In fact, in recent weeks you’d found yourself in quite the predicament.

You returned your focus to the illuminated display of liquor behind the bar, and asked for a bottle of the strongest stuff they had.

It all started around a month ago. Sebastian was over at your apartment and the two of you had made some homemade pizzas together, of course, not without a small food fight ensuing, since the two of you had a combined mental age that equated to 12 years.

You were both covered in flour, smearing tomato sauce on each other’s cheeks every five minutes. Each time you did so, you would swear it would be the last time you did it, but betrayed your promise within seconds, just to attack the other with food items again. It was all very juvenile, but at the same time, you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

His flour-y smile and little yelps every time you attacked him made the sticky feeling that lingered on your face feel a lot less irritating and uncomfortable, and more of a reminder of how much you loved to spend time with him.

After consuming a substantial amount of pizza and ice cream, Seb decided he was far too full and sleepy to make the journey back to his own home, which was only a 15 minute walk from yours, sounding a lot like someone who was at least 20 years older than he was, which you made sure to tease him about.

“Well, when you get to my age, maybe you’ll be more aware of the importance of conserving one’s energy,” He retorted, half yawning in the middle of his sentence.

Even you were feeling drowsy from the mammoth amount of food you had eaten, so you admitted defeat and drifted off into a joint food coma on your couch.

You awoke early the next morning to see light filtering through the the blinds on your window, warming your skin, and illuminating both of your legs, tangled in the single, patchwork blanket you used for the night that honestly didn't do much to cover you. Seb was a proud blanket thief.

The said blanket thief was clutching you to his chest in a tight, but comfortable grip, making small snuffling noises in his sleep, his hair unruly and slowly returning back to its natural curly state, freeing itself from its gelled back prison.

He looked like an angel, in the golden sunlight with his skin glowing, and his lips parted slightly. You almost wanted to take a picture of him looking like this, but you restrained yourself, not wanting to risk him catching you and having to live down the teasing and embarrassment.

You didn’t know what came over you, but you felt a strong instinct to nuzzle into his chest, taking in his natural scent- faintly of his day-old cologne and rain.

You smiled, basking in this rare moment of affection, wanting to enjoy it before it came to its inevitable end, and you were just friends once again. You felt a pang of sadness, just at the thought.

Looking up slowly, you dared to sneak another glance at him. You jumped, noticing his eyes were already partly open, the blue irises focused intently on you in a sleepy gaze.

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards into a juvenile grin, and his eyes fluttered closed once more, so his long, dark lashes fanned out almost touching his cheeks below.

“Five more minutes, Y/N” he sighed, planting a chaste kiss on your temple, before falling asleep again.

Back in the present moment, you were seriously drunk, having downed countless shots on an empty stomach. The world was spinning. There were now four identical bartenders all mixing the same drink before you.

You raised your arm, despite this.

One more couldn’t hurt, could it?

You only wanted to forget ever wanting your best friend as anything more than a friend. You felt silly for even thinking that could Sebastian see you as anything other than his little, non-famous platonic sidekick.

Especially when beautiful and talented women were prone to throwing themselves at him at every opportunity. You didn’t stand a chance.

“Y/N, enough,” you heard a soft voice through the mayhem of the bar, as karaoke was starting up. His favourite.

Sebastian gripped your hand in his, softly peeling you off of the bar stool. His eyebrows shot up as they usually do when he’s even mildly surprised, when your knees completely buckled under your own body weight.

He gripped you more firmly so you didn’t fall to the floor.

“How much did you drink?”

“Enough to allow me to tell you this,” you hiccuped.

It was now or never. At least your inhibitions we’re out of the way for now, and you wouldn’t even remember this, come morning time.

He furrowed his brow as you took his hand and led him with great difficulty to a more quiet corner of the room.

“Sebastian, I love you.” You blurted, holding his shoulders and staring deeply into his eyes.

He broke out into a chuckle and patted your shoulder.

“Love you too, Y/N” he replied, rolling his eyes. “Now let’s get you home”

As he escorted you outside towards his car, you began to resist him with all of your strength, which when comparing to Sebastian, was not much.

“No! I mean..I mean I love you!”

This made Sebastian finally stop in his tracks, and look sideways at you.

“I mean I’m in love with you. Like holding hands and kissing kinda love. And maybe even having s-“

“Y/N stop,” he whispered, cutting you off.

it was like the blood in your body had run cold, and your heart plummeted from your chest to somewhere in your lower abdomen. He continued to escort you to his parked car behind the bar.

It was almost unbelievable how stupid you felt.

“I knew it!” Tears pricked your eyes, and you felt your cheeks growing hot and red.

“I knew you’d never love me back. Especially when women with big boobs and pretty faces are always smiling at you”

“You don’t know what you’re saying, Y/N” he persisted, opening his car door for you.

“I do! I just told you- I. Love. You.”

“No...” he replied, breaking every last piece of hope you had stored in your heart.

He sighed, as you sat in the passenger seat of his car, and he helped fasten your seatbelt while a tear rolled down your cheek.

Everything seemed to be a blur of darkness and engine noises for a while. You could see Seb’s outline, a portrait of stress hunched over the wheel, his hands gripping the leather tightly. You wondered whether his hands would leave visible marks in the material, from how his knuckles had turned white with strain. The last thing you remember was him carrying you into your apartment before it all went completely dark.

You awoke with a throbbing headache, and fragmented memories of last night and how you even made it to your bed.

Fortunately, or rather, unfortunately for you, you managed to recall, in astounding detail, every minute of you confessing and then getting shut down.

“Fuck!” You sighed loudly, rolling over.

As you did so, you realised you were in your pyjamas. You definitely were not sober enough last night to change into your PJs and stow away your heels so neatly by your bedroom door. You narrowed your eyes in confusion, but also partly due to the migraine coming on.

As if on cue, your door flung open, and a shirtless, wild haired Sebastian burst into your room, his eyes wide.

“What happened? I heard you swear” he said breathlessly, his toned chest rising and falling rapidly.

You screamed helplessly and jumped out of bed, your duvet still wrapped around your waist

“What are you doing here?” You yelled.

“I stayed on the couch because I didn’t want you to be alone” he explained “you could have choked on your own vomit or something”

You calmed down instantly. Well, at least he wasn’t completely scared off from last nights conversation.

“My clothes,” you mumbled sheepishly, avoiding eye contact.

“You looked uncomfortable in your dress.” He shrugged, seemingly unfazed by having to strip you down and dress you again.

“Here, I’ll get you some water and painkillers,” he motioned for you to follow him into the kitchen/ living room space.

As you gulped down the pills you watched him tidy up your house for a while, before deciding to speak.

“I’m sorry about what I said”

His body visibly tensed, and he turned to you, his eyes unreadable.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“I made it weird. You obviously only see me as a friend and I’d like to keep you as one, only if you’d let me of course” you said, though your nerves got the better of you and it all came out as one convoluted sentence.

He regarded you for what felt like an eternity. His blue eyes, scanning over your face. Almost as if he was mapping you and memorising all of your features. What scared you the most is that his lips were still. His usual goofy smile was nowhere to be seen.

A serious Sebastian is one you hadn’t had much experience with within your friendship, and that was something you loved about him. He was always laughing, cheerful and poking fun at somebody or something. But now, he seemed so severe. It scared you.

You rubbed your thighs with your palms nervously. Thank god the medicine was kicking in, otherwise there would be no way you’d be able to face the pain of the headache coupled with Seb turning you down twice in 24 hours.

“I don’t blame you if you can’t look at me the same, Seb. And I-“ You added.

“You weren’t listening to me last night,” he blurted out of the blue, cutting you off.

He padded towards you in his mismatched socks and stopped until he was mere inches from your face.

“And I wanted to make sure of something, too.” He sighed “It breaks my heart to imagine you think I can’t look at you the same”

You shook your head and placed a reassuring hand on his arm for him to continue. You could have sworn you saw his eyes glisten a bit from tears.

“Y/N...I wanted to make sure you’d remember everything I say to you. I’ve loved being your friend for the past couple of years, don’t get me wrong” he was now wringing his hands, his face flushed and his eyes darting from your face to the floor.

“But I’ve come to realise, it’s not enough. I can’t hold you, and know that you’re not mine. Not completely. It sounds cliche, but I feel empty every time we’re apart. I try to fill the void but, honestly, no one will compare”

“Every time I see you, my heart feels so fucking full.” He continued, now the smile was starting to appear on his face.

“I just want to grab you and never let go, but I felt so selfish. I felt like I was throwing our friendship away, Y/N”

By now your jaw had completely dropped. You didn’t even care what you looked like at this point with your bedhead, dark circles and chapped lips from dehydration. All you wanted to know is if what you were hearing was correct.

“You have no idea how much I wanted to kiss you last night, but I knew you wouldn’t remember it” He whispered, leaning closer to you now. “I want you- us- remember it” He whispered.

In one swift motion, his hand was cradling the back of your head and his eyes were staring down at you, his lips parted. He kissed you deeply, wrapping his other arm around your waist and pulling you impossibly close to his bare chest. You could almost hear his heart beating excitedly beneath his ribcage, threatening to burst out

When he released you, his beautiful, stupid smile was back. He almost looked embarrassed at how much he was grinning.

“Sorry it took this long” he whispered, grabbing your hand and placing a kiss on your knuckles sweetly.

“I suppose it was worth the wait.” You retorted, shooting him a wry smile.

He cocked his head to the side, taking you in for a while.

“Next time I undress you, you’re gonna be able to recall every second of it,” he winked at you.

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #avengers endgame #bucky x reader #sebastianstanedit #avengers #bucky #captain america #sebstan #sebastian stan x you #sebastian x reader #young sebastian stan #steve rogers and bucky barnes #requested #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan fic

356 notes · View notes

lastbluetardis · 5 years ago

Text

Home for the Holidays (1/2)

This is part one of my gift to @timeladyelpia for the @dwsecretsanta gift exchange! Apologies for the delay; I hope you enjoy this! Your info said you enjoy reunions and established relationships, so that’s what this is :)

Ten x Rose, 4400 words, teen

Also tagging @doctorroseprompts

Summary: Despite being locked away in different universes, the Doctor and Rose have managed to stay connected through their marriage bond, celebrating holidays and special events even through the impenetrable distance. After celebrating three Christmases apart, fate brings them together once more just in time for the holidays.

Note: If anybody remembers this little ficlet (If Only in My Dreams) I wrote for last year’s Ficmas, I borrowed from that idea and wrote the reunion. However, you do NOT need to have read that in order to understand this.

AO3

The holidays were one of the hardest times for the Doctor. Though he didn’t naturally celebrate—at least not any Earth or human holiday—Rose had. Oh, he would join in the festivities with his past companions, wishing them Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Joyous Festivus, or whatever holiday they in particular celebrated, but he was always on the outside looking in.

But all of that had changed when he’d met Rose, when he regenerated into his current body and left her and the Earth to fend for themselves during a Sycorax invasion while he was—helpfully—in a regenerative coma. All on Christmas Day.

When it all had blown over—blown up, more like it, thanks to Harriet Jones, former Prime Minister—he had strangely been invited to Christmas dinner at the Tylers’. Even more strangely, he’d said yes. After he changed, of course. He couldn’t very well have Christmas dinner in his borrowed jimjams. No, he’d gone back to his TARDIS and found himself a new outfit before heading back up to Rose and her mother.

Even now, remembering the look of appreciation in Rose’s eyes when she beheld him in his new suit sent butterflies through his stomach.

He had stayed for dinner and the snow-that-wasn’t-snow and for dessert. And even once that was finished, once the food was cleared away and the dishes piled high in the sink for the following morning, he hadn’t wanted to leave quite yet. So he had accepted Rose’s invitation to sleep on the sofa for the night. Not that Time Lords needed much sleep. (However, newly-regenerated Time Lord could certainly use a nap.)

He had spent the next couple weeks with the Tylers, which was virtually unheard of for him. But the TARDIS had been in no shape to fly, thanks to whatever jiggery-pokery Rose had done to the old girl to look into her heart to become the Bad Wolf. And thanks to his less-than-stellar driving while his brain was imploding and collapsing during some regeneration complications.

No matter, he had been able to get his beloved ship flying again a week or so after the New Year. In the interim, between TARDIS repairs, he had reconnected with Rose. Answering all of her questions regarding regeneration. Filling in the gaps of her memory during her time as Bad Wolf. Recounting all of their adventures together to prove to her, without a doubt, that he was still the Doctor. Still her Doctor, though he’d never exactly stated it as such.

(Little did he know then that Rose had already considered him her Doctor. She later confessed to him that his earnest attempts to convince her of his identity had been endearing.)

On the evening before he and Rose were to depart for the stars once more, Rose had stayed up late with him in Jackie’s living room and had presented him with a small package. She had seemed slightly embarrassed or self-conscious as he ripped into the brown-paper-wrapped parcel; she had begun rambling about traditions and new beginnings and something about “together”, which he very much liked to think about. He liked the idea of him and Rose together forever.

Upon indelicately ripping off the wrapping paper, he saw a simple white box. When he removed the lid, a Christmas ornament lay nestled in a soft bed of shredded cotton. His hearts had constricted in his chest as he pulled out the ornament, two penguins clad in hats and scarves leaning in to touch the tips of their beaks together. Beneath, in an elegant script, were the words “The Doctor + Rose’s First Christmas” and the year.

“I know it’s silly,” Rose said, still looking anywhere but him. “Christmas is over now, and it’s not like we even had a tree in the TARDIS to put it on, but I saw it and couldn’t resist. Obviously, I wrote in our names. Not many ornaments have ‘the Doctor’ written on ‘em.”

He pulled her into his arms, silencing her words. “It’s perfect,” he said through the lump in his throat. “Tell you what. We can put it up on the tree next Christmas. And get another ornament to go with it. Eh? Can be a tradition.”

Rose wrinkled her nose. “You put up a Christmas tree in that box of yours?”

“Not usually,” he admitted. “But you celebrate Christmas. I want the TARDIS to feel like home for you, and if celebrating all of your little human holidays makes it feel like home, then I want to celebrate with you, however you’d like. If you’d like.”

Her expression softened and she smiled shyly at him. “The TARDIS is already my home, Doctor.”

The admission both floored and delighted him. A big, beaming grin split his face in two, and the echoing expression lit up her face too.

He very nearly kissed her then, and he spent the rest of the night, after Rose had gone to bed, cursing himself for not seizing the opportunity.

No matter. They got there eventually, after a few hiccups in the road.

By the time their second Christmas rolled around, they were an actual proper couple, and they went shopping together not only for their first Christmas tree, but also for the companion to the penguin ornament. They’d decided on two polar bears decorating a Christmas tree together, snouts pressed together in a supposed kiss.

They had bought other decorations as well, but they displayed their couples’ ornaments proudly on the front of the tree, making sure no branches, lights, or baubles obscured them from view.

“I wonder how long it’ll take before we have enough couples’ ornaments to decorate the tree just with them,” Rose mused as they de-decked their tree after the holidays. “Ages and ages, I’ll bet.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we’ve got ages and ages,” he replied, a goofy grin on his face. “Forever, in fact.”

And they did. They had forever together. Whatever Rose had done as Bad Wolf had changed her at the cellular level. Her body wasn’t breaking down at all; it had enough regenerative energy—courtesy of the TARDIS—to replenish any aged and dying cells before they turned hazardous. For all intents and purposes, she would live just as long as the Doctor. Longer, perhaps.

Upon realizing what that meant for them, for their future together, they decided to bind themselves together in every way possible. One soul in two bodies. At least, that was how Rose had liked to think of it when he had explained the telepathic marriage bond. An open channel between them, their minds, allowing them to see the most intimate parts of the other.

There had been no one the Doctor had wanted to share that sort of connection with, apart from Rose. There had never been anyone like her before—nobody he loved as deeply, fiercely, wholly, eternally—and there would never be anyone like her again.

Not even now that she was gone.

It had been over three years since Torchwood. Since Canary Wharf. Since the Daleks and Cybermen and parallel worlds and Void breaches that ended with the multiverse being saved, but with Rose being trapped permanently in another world.

In those first few moments, as he watched the Void breach fold in on itself like a crumpled piece of paper, the Doctor had held his breath and tensed for the inevitable slash of pain in his mind as his bond with Rose broke. But when a minute passed, then two, then ten and his bond with Rose was still there, he relaxed a fraction.

The anguish and desperation clanging from her half of the bond was what kept him sane, funnily enough. Regardless of their mutual devastation, the fact that he could still feel her in his mind meant he hadn’t truly lost her. She wasn’t truly gone. He wasn’t truly alone.

It had taken months for them to adapt and adjust to their new reality. Time moved around them differently; Pete’s World, as he’d dubbed it, moved slightly faster than their prime universe. And time didn’t really exist in the TARDIS. However, they tried to sync their internal body clocks with each other, to sleep and eat and relax at the same time to make up for the fact that they weren’t physically with each other.

Despite having his wife in his head at all times, he still missed her. He missed her more with every passing day. Nevertheless, they had coped as best they could.

However, the holidays still hurt. It hurt to try to celebrate with Rose when she was—literally—worlds away. Universes away. It hurt to go out and get a Christmas tree. It hurt to decorate it. But above all, it hurt to pick out and purchase their couples’ ornament alone. He’d had to pick out the last three on his own, and if his calculations were correct—which they were, because he was quite brilliant—he would be needing to go out and buy a new one soon. Their sixth overall, the fourth he would buy alone.

Despite Rose’s confidence in the Dimension Cannon—a clever bit of technology that the Torchwood researchers and engineers in Pete’s World had been developing for well over a year now—it seemed as though the Cannon hadn’t worked enough to bring her back to this world in time for Christmas.

But he didn’t care when she came home. He just cared that she did come home. One day.

He had been skeptical of the Cannon when Rose first informed him of its creation, but now that it began showing signs of life—acting as a crude teleport—he was cautiously optimistic that one day it would work. Once he or any of the Torchwood scientists managed to figure out how to poke a hole through the Void, through the fabric of reality, large enough for Rose to squeeze through, but small enough that the entire microcosm of the multiverse didn’t implode in the process. It was a delicate balancing act.

However, now that Rose was busy testing the Dimension Cannon, letting it blast her to whatever corner of her universe it fancied, their bond was a little more strained and out of sync. It had nearly given him a hearts-attack when she went utterly silent one day, only to reappear in his mind hours later as though nothing had happened.

She had since taken to warning him about when she was planning a Cannon jump so he wouldn’t be alarmed if she disappeared from his head for a few hours. Though he appreciated it, it didn’t stop his anxiety from squeezing a tight band around his chest. Every time her half of the bond went quiet, he feared he would never hear from her again.

Inevitably, though, she always returned. She would always return.

He had taken to running errands on the days she did her Cannon jumps. Not only did it distract him from the silence in his head, but it gave him a break from trying to keep his body clock synced with Rose’s. He didn’t need to concern himself about when or where he went, or for how long.

On one particular day in the beginning of December—for Rose, at least… Pete’s World had gotten completely out of sync with their universe by now—the Doctor had decided to visit Ghealach, a small moon on the other end of the galaxy that was basically a junk shop masquerading as a bazaar. The unique feature of Ghealach, however, was that it was utterly psy-null. Telepathy was strictly forbidden as a security measure; the shop owners didn’t want a telepathic being creeping into their heads to swindle them out of money and supplies.

As such, if the Doctor were to go to Ghealach, it meant his bond with Rose would be silenced.

I’ll be there for just a few hours, he told her that morning. I should be done by the time you’re back, but in the event that I’m not, I don’t want you to worry.

Thanks for telling me. Stay safe, Doctor.

He snorted. I’m not the one blasting myself to the gods know where.

He got the impression she was sticking her tongue out at him, and so he rolled his eyes right back.

Be safe, he murmured, passing a kiss and a caress down their bond.

He piloted himself to Ghealach but stayed in the TARDIS until Rose’s presence faded from his mind, indicating she’d gone on her jump.

Wearily, the Doctor rubbed at his eyes and at the dull throb that pulsed behind his temples. Ignoring the ache, he grabbed his overcoat, swung it around his shoulders, and exited the TARDIS.

Ghealach was bustling with activity. All sorts of creatures were buying and selling, bartering and trading. While he usually loved the atmosphere—all of those people, all that life—he couldn’t stomach it today.

So he moved with a purpose, knowing where he could find the parts that he needed to fix the TARDIS. Well, not exactly fix, as nothing was technically broken. But the mechanisms behind the fine-tune precision needed for landing at the coordinates he set must be going a bit faulty. He was landing in an incorrect time or location more often than usual.

If Rose were there, she would’ve teased him about his poor piloting skills.

Pushing that thought aside, the Doctor strode from tent to tent, turning out his pockets to exchange whatever baubles and trinkets and bits of alien tech he happened to have.

It took nearly two hours, but he finally had all of the pieces he had sought out to find, plus a few extra bits he didn’t need but might one day have use for.

It took another half hour or wandering to find the TARDIS again. He hadn’t realized how far he had wandered into the labyrinthine stalls of the market. But he finally beheld his glorious ship. It was odd not to hear her welcoming hum as he approached. Even his bond with his ship was muted on this moon.

He slid his key into the lock and turned it, pushing the door inward. Her central rotor gleamed in welcome and the lights flickered between bright and dull. As soon as he closed the door behind him, leaving the psy-null territory, he felt his ship’s utter joy and delight.

“I missed you too,” he cooed to his ship, affectionately rubbing one of the coral struts as he draped his coat across it.

It was only when he’d skipped up to the center console that he realized his ship wasn’t the sole presence in his mind.

Oh! You’re back earlier than I thought, he said, cringing. Sorry, love. Didn’t think I'd be on that moon for so long.

“Doctor.”

Her voice was faint and breathless, and the Doctor clenched his jaw; it sounded as though she was right beside him. He was getting bombarded with a mixture of emotions, strong ones at that. Stronger than he usually felt from their strained bond.

What’s the matter? Everything all right? Jump go okay?

“It’s you… It’s really, actually you.”

He frowned at the display controls of his ship as he worked on sending her into flight. Rose was coming across clearly. He could read every thread of thought and emotion: disbelief, confusion, love, hurt, happiness, desperation. All of it. Everything that was going on inside that beautiful head of hers was broadcast for him to see.

But if he could sense her so easily, then that meant…

Where are you? he asked, frantically tugging the display screen so close to his face that his nose nearly brushed it. He typed at the keyboard fervently, even though he had no coordinates to input. I’ll find you, Rose. I will find you. Gods, you’re here. Where are you? I’ll find you.

A choked sob sounded from his wife, and he reached into himself, into their bond, to cradle her close. A maelstrom hit him, and he couldn’t seem to soothe her, no matter how much comfort and love he swaddled her in.

I know, love. I know. We’re so close. All these years and you’ve finally done it. You’re brilliant, you are. We’re so close now. Just tell me where you are and I’ll come get you and bring you home. But I need to know where you are.

“Turn around.”

Turn around? What? Where are you, Rose? I need as much information as you can give me so I can find you.

“Turn. Around.”

His mind was still churning even as something—someone—touched his shoulder. Fingers gripped his shoulder hard and tugged. Spinning on his heel, his jaw slackened as he beheld the blonde standing before him. Rose. His wife. His bondmate. His everything.

“Rose?” he croaked, clenching his hands into fists at his side.

She looked nearly the same as the day he’d lost her. The planes of her face had sharpened, the roundness of youth having faded over the years, and her hair was a gentler shade of blonde, seemingly professionally dyed rather than a cheap bit of bleaching product she found in the shops.

His eyes roved across her face hungrily, urgently willing her to be real, as his mind sought her out. He hadn’t realized how muffled their bond had become, separated as they were through universes, but now it was in perfect focus, at full power. It was as though a radio station that had been staticky was now tuned.

And all of the emotions swirling through both of their minds was being broadcast on all frequencies. Shock and disbelief and tentative, delicate hope.

“Oh, Doctor!”

Rose launched herself at him, pulling him from his stupor. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, holding her as close as he could. Her warm, small body contoured to his, pressing against every inch of him until there was no space left between them.

Her hands scrabbled at his back, searching for better purchase to cling to him. He buried his nose into the soft spot where her shoulder met her neck and breathed in deeply, inhaling the smell of her. She smelled like energy and electricity, but beneath that was the familiar scent of Rose. Of home.

“What… How…?”

“It worked,” she said, her voice warbling. “The Cannon… it worked. With a bit of help. Needed a bit of alien tech to help brace the Void open, then close it up behind me. Some friendly aliens helped out with that. Though they said the fabric of that reality was already fragile. Not sure what that was about. Torchwood promised to look into it, and I said we’d look into it from this side of things.”

“Fragile?” he asked, pulling away from her. “How can the fabric of reality become ‘fragile’?”

Rose looked like she was about to open her mouth, perhaps to offer her input, but the Doctor realized he didn’t particularly want to talk about the fabric of reality or the universe or anything that wasn’t Rose.

He shook his head and cradled Rose’s jaw in her palm, brushing his thumb against her lower lip. She sighed, her warm breath ghosting across his hand.

“I’ve missed you,” he rasped, raking his eyes over her face to recommit every detail to memory. She was even more beautiful, more breathtaking, than he remembered. “So much, Rose. There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t miss you. And I know we were never truly apart, but…”

Rose rocked up onto her toes, fisted her hands in the lapels of his suit, and tugged him down until their mouths met in a hard kiss. All thoughts left his mind as he lost himself in her. The taste of her, the touch of her, the smell of her, the sound of her, the sight of her. His senses were utterly overwhelmed by her, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Pleasure sparked through his veins as their lips moved together in a familiar rhythm of pulling and yielding, sliding and gliding.

A full-body shudder rippled down his spine as his mouth parted for her probing tongue. The little whimper she let out weakened his knees and he stumbled back a step until his backside pressed against the central console of the TARDIS.

Rose followed, not breaking the kiss. The Doctor braced himself against the console, more than willing to let Rose cage him in, resting her weight against his. Their bodies moved together, rocking and writhing as their hands explored every inch of each other that they’d been deprived of for three and a half years.

“I missed you,” he murmured between frantic kisses. “I love you.”

I love you, he whispered into her mind. His half of the bond wrapped around her half even tighter than his body wrapped around hers, needing to feel her everywhere, needing to hold her close to convince himself that this was real, that she was real, and that she was here with him.

“I’m here,” she mumbled against his mouth. I’m here. I’m back. I came back. I love you. I love you.

Her hands moved restlessly across his body, alternating between pressing into the small of his back and his hair. Desire rippled through him as their hips and legs tangled together, rubbing and grinding and relishing all of the sensations they’d been deprived of for these many long years.

Sure, they’d had the mental presence of each other during their separation, but no number of mental embraces could replace a real hug, of being ensconced in another’s arms, two bodies inhabiting one space.

A deep groan rumbled up the Doctor’s chest as he devoured Rose’s mouth. The bedroom was too far away for the utter need throbbing through them both. Hastily removing all necessary pieces of clothing, they joined together on the raggedy old jump seat. Their bodies moved as one, touching and kissing and teasing and tasting until their coupling culminated in the pinnacle of pleasure and love.

Afterwards, they sat slumped together, panting for breath and clinging to each other. The Doctor skated his fingertips up and down the smooth expanse of Rose’s spine. She still had her shirt on, and the fabric bunched and fell with every up and down motion of his hand.

“I love you,” he said groggily, pressing a series of kisses to the column of her throat. His mind was blissfully blank and full of Rose. She was everywhere, filling the deep, dark expanse of his mind with her light and warmth.

“You feel so good,” she sighed, nuzzling closer physically and mentally. “I hadn’t realized how faint our bond had become. But now… God.”

“Mmm,” he hummed in agreement. Then he asked the question that had slowly been eating away at him. “How long were you waiting in here? How did you even find the ship? That moon… you wouldn’t have been able to feel her—or me.”

“Maybe a half hour,” Rose said. “Felt like an eternity. But then I reminded myself that I was lucky enough to have found the TARDIS at all. I would’ve been devastated to know I’d landed here but just missed you.”

He would’ve been devastated too. Even more horrifying was the idea that Rose wouldn’t even have been able to reach out for him to tell him where she was, what with that telepathic dampener suppressing their bond.

“But I was just wandering around when I found the TARDIS,” Rose continued. “I nearly walked right by her at first, ‘cos I didn’t think the jump had actually worked. I figured I was on an alien planet in that other universe. But then I walked past her and the door just… clicked open. That’s when I turned and saw her, and I ran right in.

“But then I wasn’t sure which version of you it would be. Everything about the TARDIS looked the same, so I figured I wasn’t too far off. Then I was beginning to think about how I would explain everything if it was a past you. Especially if it was a past you who hadn’t met me yet; how on Earth would I explain to you who I was and why you needed to help me.”

“The marriage bond would’ve been proof enough,” he assured her, tapping at his temple for emphasis. “The bond transcends time, through regenerations, past and present. No matter which version of me walked through those doors, I would have known who you are.”

“Thank God it was you,” she said. “Though for a minute there I thought I went mad and was invisible.”

He offered her a sheepish grin. “Sorry. I didn’t think to look around the TARDIS. I didn’t expect anyone to be in here.”

She smirked at him, then nestled her head into the crook of his neck, letting out a sated sigh Despite the sound of utter contentment, she murmured, “We should get up.”

“Or we could stay here like this forever,” he countered.

“As wonderful as that sounds, my legs are going half numb,” she retorted. “And I feel disgusting. I could use a shower, if you’d care to join me?”

His belly swooped in renewed desire as he nodded fervently. Rose grinned at him, her tongue poking teasingly out of the corner of her mouth. He pinched her bum for her cheek, causing her to shriek with laughter and swat at his hand.

A daft grin settled across his face at the sound. Oh, how he’d missed her.

He couldn’t help but lean up to plant a row of tiny kisses across her jaw, beginning at the sensitive skin beneath her ear and working his way to the corner of her mouth. He felt her cheek lift in a smile as her hand went to the back of his head to keep him where he was. As if he would ever wish to stop kissing her.

“Shower?” he mumbled against her skin, slowly making a path down her neck.

“Mhm,” she hummed distractedly.

He laughed softly and pressed a final kiss to the hollow of her throat. “Come on. Let’s get cleaned up.”

Rose heaved a great sigh but dutifully lifted herself off of his lap to stand on wobbly legs. He followed suit, and they each fixed their jumble of half-off clothing before they moved, hand in hand, down the corridor of their home.

Part Two (the Christmas fluff) coming soon!

#timeladyelpia #dwsecretsanta #ficandchips #doctorroseprompts #dwfic #doctor who #ten x rose #reunion #romance #my fic #home for the holidays

45 notes · View notes

sickjoonie · 5 years ago

Note

ooooh, did you ever continue the jk drabble? he said once that he cant eat late cause it makes him sick. maybe him waking up feeling pukey and awful in the middle of the night and doing that ’oh i dont need to move to the bathroom yet’ thing until he ends up spewing on himself by accident then asking yoongi for something to settle his belly when throwing up hasnt made him feel better? (blame bleucheeks for this one... i cant get it out of my head that yoongi has the meds cause of them)

jungkook felt like he was going to burst, to say the least.

they had returned from a meeting going over the details of their recent album. it had been incredibly successful, to say the least, and everyone was in high spirits.

being treated to a celebratory dinner full of meat and an assortment of dishes from kimchi stew to bibimbap while on an empty stomach was the recipe for disaster. yoongi and seokjin had worked hard on the meal, almost going overboard with how much they cooked. then again, with how deep jungkook’s and taehyung’s stomachs seemed to be, there was no such thing as going overboard.

jungkook was weak to food and all self control went out the window once he had the first bite. by the time yoongi brought out some dessert, jungkook’s stomach was stuffed way past its limit.

he was so, so full and his jeans were way too tight by now. he stifled a loud burp, feeling his ears heat up with embarrassment. normally, he wasn’t bothered with burping after a meal. this time, he had overdone it, turning him shy around his hyungs.

it was getting late; surely he could manage to sneak off under the excuse of being exhausted.

he quickly excused himself to his room, not wanting anyone to catch onto the discomfort he was feeling. he ignored any odd looks from his hyungs, wanting to get to the privacy of his room to deal with his overstuffed belly on his own.

once the door was shut, jungkook groaned and clutched his stomach.

“oh, fuck,” jungkook groaned, feeling how bloated his stomach was under his hands. he couldn’t remember the last time he had gone this overboard. his stomach gave a pained growl, displeased and ill-prepared to digest all of the food.

he unbuttoned his pants, relieving some of the pressure on his stomach, and changed into a pair of dirty sweatpants instead. he laid down on his bed, curling up around his stomach. he massaged it with one hand, desperately seeking relief. he burped quietly as a result from the added pressure from his hands.

along with the fullness came a wave of heavy sleepiness as his body began to work on digesting. he let it take over him, easily falling into the food coma and finding relief in the form of sleep.

he expected to sleep the food off, maybe wake up a bit bloated the next morning. the problem was his stomach got temperamental during the night due to acid reflux. he had learned to stay up a little while longer after dinner to give his stomach time to settle down and process everything he had eaten.

it had taken him months of waking up to a belly ache in the middle of the night before he had learned how to time his eating to his sleep schedule.

he had forgotten that, too dazed from overeating.

jungkook woke up to his stomach growling and nausea swirling in his stomach. he sat up in an instant, whimpering as his stomach protested the movement. his tongue felt heavy in his mouth and his mind was still foggy with sleep.

his stomach never felt this nauseous before during the night, but then again, he didn’t normally eat so much.

he swallowed back the bile, forcing himself to breathe deeply, concentrating hard on keeping his stomach in place. he really didn’t want to throw up, instead telling himself that it was merely a bad case of indigestion.

he hiccuped wetly and swallowed again. he didn’t feel any better and was feeling more and more sick with each minute. jungkook ignored the symptoms, staring into the darkness of his room and practically panting from holding back his nausea.

just when he was considering moving to the bathroom, he lurched forward with a wet gag, followed by a heave that brought up a mouth full of sick onto his blankets. all control was lost, leaving him vomiting violently, coughing and choking for air in between the heaves.

it was far too long before his stomach settled down, returning to painful cramps and a simmering nausea that threatened to increase at any minute.

jungkook was now wide awake, blankets covered in puke and stomach still throwing a tantrum. it was painstakingly obvious that he couldn’t handle this on his own anymore.

jungkook shakily got up, moving away from the soiled blankets and grabbing his phone from his discarded pants. he held a hand on his belly, opening his contacts to find his hyung.

if there was anyone who knew how to settle his belly, it would be yoongi hyung. he had medication for anything and everything, from burns to indigestion to migraines. jungkook was sure he would have something for his belly.

it took three calls before yoongi finally picked up.

“kook you little shit,” yoongi’s sleepy voice echoed through the phone’s speakers.

“h-hyung,” jungkook rasped out, “i need some medicine.”

without any context, yoongi didn’t care. “find it yourself.” as far as he was concerned jungkook had merely woken him up for some standard painkillers.

jungkook sighed softly. “i also kind of, uh, puked.” he paused, hearing yoongi take a sharp breath. “all over my bed.”

that got yoongi’s attention. jungkook heard some shuffling, indicating that yoongi was getting up. “aish, kid. your tummy doesn’t know how to time things right, huh?” yoongi sighed. his voice took on a much softer tone, one that made jungkook want to curl up in his arms. “you’ll be alright, bun. hyung will be there in a second, okay? if you feel sick again, head to the bathroom.”

jungkook hummed quietly, then hung up. he rubbed his stomach slowly, whimpering as it seized up with another cramp. it seemed that vomiting had done nothing to help it settle down; he could still hear it gurgling and protesting all the food left in it.

he moved to sit in his desk chair, not wanting to return to his bedsheets but stomach feeling too sore to continue standing. he tried to settle his stomach, taking deep breaths while gently running his fingers over his stomach in circles. he coaxed up a few burps, though it did little to help.

the door opened to his room and the light was flicked on, revealing yoongi in the doorway, struggling to carry everything he had gathered for the maknae. he sighed, seeing the ruined sheets.

“come on, kookie. you can stay in my room.”

jungkook silently got up, trailing after yoongi like a lost puppy and following his hyung to his room. once there, yoongi instructed him to lay back on the bed, pillows already propped up. jungkook laid down and, to his surprise, found himself being tucked in by yoongi.

“poor kookie, your tummy is so temperamental at night,” yoongi cooed, softly ruffling up jungkook’s hair. he moved over to the stuff he had gathered. he returned to jungkook’s side with a heating pad, plugging it into the wall. “hyung will take care of you, don’t worry. your tummy will feel better in no time.”

jungkook didn’t say anything, too nauseous and embarrassed to speak. he should have stayed up and let his stomach instead of running off from his hyungs.

yoongi placed the heating pad on jungkook’s stomach, then kissed jungkook’s forehead. “i know you’re blaming yourself, bunny. these things happen, you can’t control your body.”

jungkook didn’t say anything, placing a hand on the heating pad. it was slowly warming up and would hopefully settle his stomach.

yoongi once again got up, this time bringing back a glass of water and a small pill. “do you think you can take this, bun?”

jungkook nodded, taking the pill from yoongi and placing it in his mouth. he swallowed it down with small sips of water, wincing at his stomach’s protest.

yoongi took the water glass from him, setting it on the nightstand. he sat down on the covers, hand once again returning to jungkook’s hair.

the maknae felt himself automatically relax as yoongi scratched his scalp, small tingles being spent down his spine.

after a while, yoongi was forced to get up. there was still a bed needing to be cleaned; nobody would want to clean it the next morning. “i’m gonna change your sheets, alright? i’ll be right back bun.”

jungkook gave a small nod, watching yoongi walk out of the room before letting his eyes slip close. he could feel occasional low glugs of digestion in his stomach, but it seemed that it was slowly settling down.

when yoongi returned twenty minutes later, jungkook immediately whined for the elder. now that he had medicine in his system and a heating pad, he needed the ultimate cure to all his woes: cuddles.

yoongi smiled fondly, recognizing the exaggerated pout on jungkook’s face. “what a baby,” he teased, climbing under the covers.

jungkook instantly latched onto him, hiding his nose in his hyung’s sleep shirt. he felt yoongi’s laugh and the hand that landed on his back, pulling him closer.

“is hyung your new pillow?”

jungkook nodded. he felt the hand on his back begin to trace circles, making him sigh.

yoongi couldn’t help the warm feeling that enveloped his heart. “sleep well now, bunny. your pillow will always be here for you.”

jungkook didn’t doubt that for one second.

#finn chats #BLEUCHEEKS I LOVE U #ur headcanons....chef kiss x10 #sick!jungkook #yoonkook #kitten cuddles his lil bunny thats it thats the fic #yes i am a little sleep deprived #Anonymous

80 notes · View notes