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lovely-necromancy · 3 years ago

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A Cure for Insomnia Ch 17

Living with the Cowell's is going about as well as you'd expected it to go. In other words it's more or less a disaster for your mental health. Which is ironic considering you didn't put this much stress on yourself when you were sure a stalker was watching you.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the stalker didn't own your house and wasn't in your personal space at every turn.

You'd honestly been expecting Little Jo to be the biggest space invader but Dia and Nate were constantly hovering around you. Nate had taken up the other spare room, or rather his room away from home, the minute he heard you'd be staying with the Cowells. He's made it his job drive you to and from work for the past two days and you both take breaks together now closing the store when you do. Then the second you cross the threshold Dia is right by you either asking for some help cooking or rushing you off for hobby time in the sitting room. It's like living in a 1920's story book, minus the extreme prejudice you would've faced.

It's only been two days and you can't find a way to ask for more space. You tried asking to go on a walk earlier and it turned into a partial jog with Nate. You really just need a moment to yourself it's been five or six days since you last had some 'me' time. All your nerves are shot and you are just a few minor inconveniences away from snapping at someone.

And it would not be a smart idea to nap at your boss. Your boss who's been so considerate and helpful offering his support to you through this whole mess of a situation.

Nonetheless you need space and your own clothes. Nate's don't fit you properly and they're uncomfortably itchy against your skin. His detergent is also very smelly, more in the chemical sense than in a bad sense. Though it could be a bad sense considering the headache you've had the past day from the over bearing smell. You know it won't end well for you but you desperately need to go back home and grab your own clothes and maybe even your car.

Having the illusion of more freedom would put you more at ease.

After all it isn't like you want to knowingly put yourself in harms way, you just can't stand the suffocation any longer. That's why you decided to bring it up during dinner, and why you are now sat in the tensest atmosphere this table has possibly ever experienced.

“Installation ain't done yet.” is Big Jo's gruff response.

It's as if that short sentence gave everyone premission to breathe again.

“I'm not planning to stay, I just need my own clothes.” you press.

Nate glances over to you before placing his fork to the side, “Then why do you need your car?”

“I'd just feel more comfortavle if I had it.....y'know instead of just relaying on you for rides.” you gesture around to the table trying to get someone yo come to your defense.

Big Jo pinches the bridge of his nose, it's been a stressful week for him as well. You don't mean to be ungrateful in this scenario but you are Autistic and the routine you've spent months carving out for yourself is being ruined. You are wearing smelly itchy clothes and need to have something you have control over. Not to mention you're the one who actively experienced the home invasion and were sat in a hospital for two days.

Big Jo can deal with you asking to go collect your thing, as far as you're concerned anyway. You're at least entitled to that much.

Dia puts her hand on Jo's arm and he sighs, “Fine, if Nate takes you. You can go to the cottage.”

“Tio, they can't have the car.” Nate is wildly failing his arms and motioning to you as he explains that you're a known flight risk.

Great, nothing's been resolved and you are back to a tense dinner in the Cowell's home.

“Fine I won't take the car, just lemme give it to someone to watch it for the...the what's it gonna be a week?” directing the question to Big Jo who's been handling the security detail for your home.

He gestures in a so-so manner.

“Yea, just lemme give it to someone to watch for the week.” you pause before throwing your hand up, “Because let's face it none of us have any idea where those two are now, and they could've easily tampered with my car.”

That was the worst possible thing to say because the second you finish you sentence the table erupts into chaos. Dia and Little Jo voicing their concerns over you driving your car, Big Jo and Nate all but forbidding you from driving and you trying to find some sort of compromise.

“What if we had it towed to Whistle's? Nate takes me there after work and we make sure nothing's wrong with my car.” looking around the table at the mixed reactions before you.

“I'll call Lewis for a tow in the morning and you both can go after work.”

“thank you.” you say relieved that you can finally gain back control over your life. Maybe get a little bit of space a long with it.

Everyone calms down and goes back to eating. The air is still so tense you could practically cut it but without your constant stirring it seems to settle. The rest of the night goes by uneventfully, you've changed into some pajamas and are ready to lay awake staring at the ceiling for hours.

The antsy energy you've been building up these past few days have left you without sleep. Tomorrow the hallucinations will probably start up, you wonder if they'll be worse thanks to your healing concussion. Hallucinations aside, your real problem is being alone with your thoughts for the next seven or eight hours.

You have nothing to occupy your mind with and thus nothing to help block out the invasive thoughts.

You'd finished the TAZ graphic novels while you were still at the hospital. The Cowells had taken you straight to their home after you got discharged, so you hadn't been able to grab your switch or any smaller art supplies.

Ultimately knowing that all this was for your safety and benefit you understand them wanting to keep you away from your home. The sight of you attack. Even a supply run could prove dangerous. Try telling that to your restless and bored mind. Constantly feeling like one of the undead wandering around aimlessly with no real purpose has certainly not done anything good for your mental health The lack of stimulation was definitely making it harder to mask and not just explode in frustration. To just let loose and rage at everything: from the situation to your stalkers, hell even to Jo and yourself. The after the brief flash of rage it would be washed away by the overwhelming guilt you felt about being in this web and dragging everyone around you into it. Whether directly or indirectly.

Safe to say, it is not good to be alone with your thoughts right now.

And it is with that restless energy that your night of staring at the ceiling turns into a morning of staring at the ceiling. Until a knock at your door signals the start of breakfast. A routine you've recently become apart of while staying with the Cowells. Getting ready for the day you make your way to the dining room, not before steadying your nerves and static filled mind with a long and drawn out huff of air.

Not quite cathartic enough to be viewed as a sigh.

And with that you begin you day.

The morning fades into late afternoon and you find yourself in the shop a little before close, just looking through the isles. A vaguely human figure, much too tall to truly be an actual person, had brushed past Nate and into one of the isles. Honestly you're sure it's one of your hallucinations but you still have to double check the isles before you finish locking up the shop. Today had been really slow and you can only recall a handful of patrons throughout the day, though you haven't been with it enough to actually hace much accuracy on that statement.

Nevertheless you are searching for stragglers, thankfully you find none. Really hoping to get out and to Whistle's soon, then home to grab things that'll keep you occupied. Things that are finally yous; actual comfortable clothes, that smell like you too. Eyes blinking in rapid succession at your near giddy nerves.

For once your tic helps you vision, you're able to catch the book laid on its side. Its cover a deep russet nearly matching the shelf in color, you'd have missed it if it weren't for the inverted shapes that pressed themselves into your eyelids almost burning the scenery into your memory. Picking the book up you try to discern where it had come from.

Upon further inspection it appeared to be more of a journal. Half written in English with margins made out it – was that German? Yeah that was definitely German, the Eszetts is way too distinctive for it to be any other language. Poorly drawn out sketches littered several pages as you flip past them. Until you see a familiar but scrathy image. It's of a symbol a circle with an 'x' through it.

As you look at the jagged lines you can't really place where you've seen this symbol before. It's so familiar but the ringing bells do nothing to help you remember where you've seen this symbol. Flipping further in you catch sight of a drawing of a being that is slim and taller than the trees. Wasn't that the figure you'd seen moments before? Right as you were doing you check for customers? You're beginning to think this shop's haunted.

“Hey YN, coast clear?” The sound of Nate's voice stops you from inspecting the book any further.

Placing it back on the shelf and nestling it in between to larger books you turn and head out of the isle.

“Yea, no customers.”

“C'mon then, I don't want to be out all night.”

Rolling your eyes at Nate's exaggeration, Whistle's probably wouldn't take more than an hour tops and you won;t take long gathering your things from the house – you follow Nate out the door.

Waiting close behind him as he locks up. One thing about the attack is you've become hyper aware of your surroundings and are nearly always on high alert now when you're out in the open like this. Luckily in most spaces you had already noted the number of exits and where to find them. Having to plan escape routes ahead of emergencies might not be the healthiest mentality but it's kept you sane throughout this ordeal. Thank you American public school system.

When you get to the auto shop you see a familiar ticcing brunette talking to a group of mechanics as he leans on your car.

“Who the hell is that?” Nate says squinting at Toby who's practically laid out across the hood of your car.

Weird, haven't they met yet? Toby did hang out at the shop for an entire day. Had Nate not noticed him then? What about the picnic? Before you can say anything Nate's already out of the car and shouting something to the group. Most of the men standing around tense up as Nate storms up to them.

But you catch the dead look in Toby's eye, the other is still horribly out of commission. Honestly without your glasses faces blur from so far away but it's undeniable that there isn't a light reflecting in his eye. Nate seems to be directing his lecture to Toby who doesn't appear to do anything. He's like a big old house cat, tired and done with everyone's shit if they aren't actively feeding him.

Sighing you exit the car, your only real thought is defusing your Karen.

You aren't at all surprised when Toby locks onto the movement of you walking towards the group. The man perks right up and lifts himself off your car in one fluid motion. He's so agile, just like a cat. You can't help but smile a bit at the connection automatically reaffirming with yourself that Toby would totally push over a precariously placed glass of water.

“Hey, wh-mrrow-what'd you bring the car in for?” Toby asks side stepping Nate, completely ignoring the older man.

“Huh – oh, yea boss wanted it checked out to make sure it wasn't like tampered with – I guess. Y'know after the accident.” you know the mechanics probably know what happened to you, you do live in a small town after all. Gossip stops for no one. But you do have control over details and talking about the incident and you won't be letting go of that any time soon.

Toby's one good eye darkens as he nods, “Gotcha, well it's fine even had Jess take it for a drive. Drove fine. Fixed that weird clicky thing it did on left turns, you're welcome.”

Hah, during the drive through Franklin Toby lost it after two left turns. He noticed the clicking sound your car would make, oddly only on left turns, and started bitching about it to you. At the time you just thought he was being funny when he'd complained you needed to take it in to the shop to fix that. Guess he wasn't. But what's the point of fixing something so trivial?

You cross your arms and are about to sass Toby about how unnecessary that was when Nate interrupts.

“Well since the car's cleared we'd better go settle the bill with Lewis.”

“No need, no parts to replace plus my free labor.” Toby looks away from Nate and back to you “It w-w-was so sl-o-ow-w so I told the old man we were dating and I'd been wanting to fix up your car.”

Normally you'd protest a friend or anyone giving you free services but since this was on the Cowells' dime you weren't going to burden them anymore.

“That's sweet – really really stupid, but sweet.”

Nate's already moving around you two and motioning towards his car as he says, “Well thank you, now we really need to get going YN. I don't want to be out late.”

You nod to Nate, turning and saying bye to Toby from over your shoulder.

When you suddenly remember, “Wait, hey Tobias can you take care of my car for the week? I know it's probably a weird request, but I'm sorta “grounded” right now and can't drive till the cottage is set up. A little worried the battery will drain from disuse.”

If it weren't for the mask and swollen eye the confused sneer of his would be clear to everyone on the lot. He sputters for a moment before speaking up.

“Ok? I mean like that's valid – whoa – a valid concern...but your car's not that old. But I guess I'll watch it? I don't have Connor so it'll have to stay in the lot tonight, that ok?”

Oh this stupid beautiful boy just gave you an out. Probably not the one he meant to give you but you are taking it and running as fast as you can.

“Or, or, or-”

“No, no, and no. You can't be trusted to not just drive off in the dead of night.” Nate cuts in.

It took a bit of coaxing but after calling the house and getting Dia's blessing you obtained one night to yourself. Really it'd be one night spent at the lodge but it was still better than being a guest in someone else's house for the night, this way you're a guest at the lodge for the night. A little mini vacation if you will. And Toby seemed fine to go with you to the cottage while you packed a bag with your essentials, before you both go back to the lodge.

He even agreed to drop you off at the bookshop in the morning.

“Are you seriously going stir crazy after five days?” he asks as you pull up to the cottage.

“it's more their constant smothering I'm over. I know everyone's worried but I still need my own agency. Y'know?”

“Yea....I do.” he murmurs with a solemn look about him before he exits the car and makes his way to the front door.

Your steps falter as you near the cottage. A few flashing images pass through your mind before you shakily inhale. Fortunately Toby is right beside you squeezing your hand to remind you of his presence. You aren't alone this won't end like Monday night.

Opening the door the house is quiet and just as you had last seen it. Nothing was disrupted, even peeking into the bathroom where you expected a crime scene to be – only a toppled shower curtain and over turned bath mat remained.

It doesn't really feel like your house right now. A fuzzy sensation clouds your thoughts, like your brain is trying to protect you from connecting with this place after your recent trauma. Although you aren't sure how you actually feel there's a strong sense of discontentment.

Noticing how you linger in the threshold of the bathroom Toby gently guides you into your room, all without a word. Leaving you alone in your room to collect your things. You move around at a moderate pace, you aren't drawing this out but you aren't rushing to leave soon either. A handful of shirts, a set of jeans, shorts, and joggers later you are grabbing your switch. Before diving into your art supplies you hear a thud across the hall.

You freeze as if ice water had just been poured onto you keeping you in place.

“Tobias!” you call out not moving.

“Fuck – sorry I acc-ack-accidently kicked your trash can.”

When had he gone to the bathroom?

“Are you ok?” you receive a quick 'yea' in response.

Jittery and in no mood to sit and draw you pick up an embroidery kit you'd been meaning to rip into. Should keep your attention long enough, but maybe you should grab another kit just in case. Bag loaded with enough of your things so you aren't driven mad during your stay – you turn to leave but decide to grab your goat plush as an after thought before leaving your room.

Walking out and into the rest of your house you notice a lack of Toby anywhere. Going towards the front door you spot him as you pass the kitchen. He's messing with your garbage can before he takes out the bag and ties it up.

“Wha' cha doin'?” he's been a bit off since you both arrived but you don;t blame him. Not like you're fairing any better.

“I, I kicked it and a whole bunch of trash came out. So then I had to put it-it all back, but there's a lot here and you aren't gonna be here for a week....I, I ju-just thought it'd be better to tak-take it out now.”

Nodding, you're thankful to have such a good friend looking out for you. It would've sucked to come home to a toxic waste site because you'd left trash in the garbage for three weeks.

You probably just thought it came from the bathroom because of the echo or something. Paranoia's been a pain this past week. Maybe you should look into getting a roommate, they might help.

“They're not that helpful trust me.”

“Wow, did I say that out loud?” Toby nods, “Fuck I am out of it. How are you and Tim doing?” you might be deflecting/ignoring your own issues. But Toby had his own shit going on Monday night and you doubt he's talked to anyone.

“We're fine. Just fucking hate him.” the sharp jerk of his head keys you in that he's very much not fine.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Who are you, my fuck-ing therapist?”

“Fine, wanna bitch then?”

He comes off the defensive like he realizes that he's talking with you right now. His good eye down cast after he relaxes his stance a bit.

You go to grab your kettle, filling it up and placing it down on the stove to warm up.

“Any preference on tea? I've got a few.” it was very much more than a few.

A chair screeches as Toby drags it out to sit down at your small kitchen table. He doesn't respond so you get one of your special blends out. This blend has rose hips which you normally dislike anything scented or flavored with roses but the ginger and cinnamon can normally over power the slightly floral sting of this tea. Plus it's made with the intention of healing the heart and promoting self love. A spell tea of sorts. Toby could probably use a little pick me up, you always did after a fight with a friend. Getting out the honey you ready the tea infuser into the cup waiting for the kettle's whistle.

“So just wanna start talking....or should I ask questions?” you turn to face Toby as you lean against the counter.

He's taken his mask off and placed it on the table, of course you remember his deteriorating face but it still surprises you to see it after a few days of not actually seeing his face. Maybe you'll get used to it and one day won't be so fascinated by his teeth.

“Tim's just a dick who thinks he has a right to act like he's my dad. Li-ike-like I'm twenty-four he doesn't need to constantly question the things I do. He doesn't have any room to talk to me about my mistakes he literally could've fucked staying here up for us....” Toby head had been snapping to the left several times during his rant and it continued as he got very quiet suddenly.

Tim could've messed staying here up? Did he mean here as in Kepler or the lodge? Barclay did have to break up the fight maybe he didn't want any of the trio in but let Toby stay out of concern for his condition.

“Hey I'm sure it wasn't that bad, I could even talk to Barclay to get you unbanned from the lodge.”

He takes the mug you pass him and spoons some honey into it/ It's weird to see half his face drawn into concentration since the other half isn't able to emote yet. Holding the cup in his hands he stares at the swirling steam rising up as you bring your own mug over to the table taking a seat. Not once does he look up at you as you stir in a bit of honey into your own tea.

Toby's neck snaps, “Am I...is it bad that I don't want you to?”

You send him a slightly pitying smile.

“No hun, you're upset. And you're having a totally valid reaction to a falling out.”

Toby rolled his eyes, at least you thin he did. Hard to tell with just the one.

“My therapist would love you. That's the kind of bullshit she tells me like all the time.”

Not knowing what to say to that you just nod as he continues to stare at you.

You both continue to talk, well you continue to let Toby rant about how stupid and dumb Brian and Tim are as you finish your tea. You still don't know the details of the fight but it sounds like the cause was just the last straw between the men and not the actual catalyst. According to Toby the other two tend to baby him or talk over his ideas and suggestions because he's the youngest of the group. Twice Toby mentioned Tim's paranoia and how that was really the cause of the tension between them. And how Brian wasn't any help because he'd always side with Tim to make sure his boyfriend was ok.

Toby was very bitter when talking about Brian's role in this more than Tim's. As if his role of passive bystander just sent Toby over the edge. Which from the way he spoke seemed like it's been dragging on for some time. All of this was painting an even worse picture of the smug asshole. Though you didn't break your silence or series of nods and hums until Toby off handily mentioned Brian getting him in trouble with his therapist by saying he was the one who started the fight.

“He fucking snitched....wait no he lied?!” Toby had to blink a few times before he finally understood what had gotten you so upset.

“Yea I mean it's not that big a deal. I was able to tell Clarise I missed a few days of my meds and she made me set reminders in front of her on the call.”

Apparently Clarise was sure Toby suffered from Bipolar Disorder, he was very flippant when he told you like it wasn't anything big. When you mentioned ADHD he kind of blanked. He got fidgety when you mentioned the symptoms you saw and nervously told you his medication was working just fine for him. Not wanting to make him more uncomfortable you dropped the topic. Soon it was dark and you needed to leave to make it to the lodge for dinner.

“You sure you want to take the garbage out? What if Chonk is over there?” joking as you lock the door.

“Good point. Trash you live here now.” he dumps the bag onto your lawn and walks towards your kia.

“Toby!”you gasp out, which sounds weird amidst your laughter.

He stops and looks at you his expression more unclear than it's been all evening. Your heart skips a beat as you stare at each other for a moment, your laughter gone now.

“It's weird to hear you say 'Toby'.”

That's all he says before he grabs the bag and carrying it to the side of your house where your bins are.

The conversation in the car is pretty light in comparison to what it has been. Just jokes getting thrown around and sharing the gossip that you'd head in the hospital because nurses' can't keep their mouths shut. Neither of you know any of the characters in the stories but they're still pure gold. Like the man who came in after getting his hand stuck in a cookie jar. Nervous and scared his wife would find out he's been eating the new holistic dog treats. A few stories or more like vents about the auto shop got thrown in. By the time you got to the lodge both of you were in lighter spirits.

Everyone was ecstatic to see you up and about and made an extra spot for you at the table. You didn't miss how Barclay would rise an eyebrow every time you locked eyes. You just roll your eyes and continue eating. When it got time to settle in for the night you were planning to commandeer the couch but Toby offered his room.

More accurately he offered a chance to hang out with Connor which you readily accepted. The rottie was just as excited to see you, bounding over the second you stepped through the door.

“Sigh if only there was a way to see Connor everyday.” you say dramatically whistful as you hold the pup's jowls in your palms.

Toby responds in turn in a drawn out sarcastic monotone “Oh my, how sad your life must be. There's only one solution, marry me. So Connor can finally have the second parent he's always wanted” he ends with a scratch behind the pups right ear.

“I was just gonna kick you and steal your dog.”

He turns to face you, “I can't feel-”

“So if I kicked you in the back of the knee it wouldn't buckle?”

Toby goes silent before conceding to your point. A mumbled “Connor would avenge me.” is heard.

After you two settle down you both hop into bed to try and get some sleep. Toby was holding your switch hostage so you had no choice but to “sleep” now.

You really hoped he changed his sheets from the other day. You'd hate to find out you're laying in milk stained sheets. Pushing those thoughts away as your body finally starts to relax, you can feel when your mind begins to drift into the beginning stages of sleep.

“Tobes, you can crash at my place if you need to.” is the last thing you say before falling into a peaceful slumber.

Toby on the other hand wasn't able to get much sleep at all that night. He couldn't shake the feeling something bad was about to happen. And unlike Tim he didn't think it was because of you, it just had something to do with you. You were too kind to be one of The Operator's proxies, with all the clues of His presence in this town you were one of many red herrings. Looking over to you Toby only hoped you wouldn't get hurt in the crossfire. Not like Lyra did, he doesn't think he could handle something like that. Especially with how shitty Tim's been lately, he's on edge and constantly about to snap. He just needs a break from everything. Maybe then the weight in his stomach would go away.

In the morning Toby's keen to hold up his end of the deal and drive you to work. You buy him breakfast and an iced coffee from Dunkin' and a pup cup for Connor. The three of you eat in your car while you wait for Nate to arrive. When he does you say your goodbyes and head off to start your shift. Promising Toby you'd call once you've been ungrounded.

Nate's face is grim as you approach the shop, you're starting to get used to the cold sweats from these dread bearing encounters. That can't be a good thing.

Did something happen last night? Were the Cowells targeted? Was everyone alright? These thoughts and more swam through your head as Nate motioned for you to follow him into the shop quickly.

He locked the door and pushed you into the back room. His hast doing nothing to settle your fraying nerves as you stumble past the threshold.

“That Rogers kid, how well do you know him?” his eyes dart around the back looking at every shadow as if watching their movements.

“Who's Roger?” you feel out of the loop.

Was Roger one of your assailants? Had the police already found suspects so soon on what little information you had to go on?

With a groan Nate smacked his hand against his face muttering something under his breath.

“Toby, Tobias Rogers how much do you know about him?” his tone is rushed and sharp.

You didn't even know his last name until now. But maybe you had heard it before but it never clicked with you. Honestly you've known each other for a month that's not very long at all. But maybe it's long enough to learn some things?

“...ah not much?”

There's a panicked look in Nate's eyes and he does his best to control his breathing. But it's clear that Nate is either about to hyperventilate or go into an anxiety attack. You wonder what's got him so worked up as he reached into his bag and pulls out a manila folder.

He hands it to you, you can see the water marks left by his sweaty palms.

What on Earth is going on?

#a cure for insomnia #ticci toby #ticcitoby #ticci tobyx reader #ticci toby x reader #tobias erin rogers #Timothy Wright #timothy wright x reader #timothy wright x brian thomas #Brian Thomas #brian thomas x reader #creepypasta fanfic

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citydreamgrls · 4 years ago

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they were roommates- part eight

a weasley twins x fem!reader fic

summary: she had nowhere to go, fleeing home to pursue something along the lines of freedom, so being welcomed into the entrepreneurial twins life was a whole world of new experiences waiting to happen.

an: hi, first off i want to say ty for 1k followers i am GOBSMACKED. secondly, this was supposed to be the final part to this series :( but honestly I felt like i didn’t want to carry on this part when i had much more intended for another part, so there will be a part 9 to this series and that WILL be the final part. thank you everyone for being amazing, as always <333

words: 9,336

Visions of the cove came back to Fred as he slept, flashes of gentle waters turning into threatening waves. He tossed his body around for most of the night, struggling to understand what the missing piece was in his half-drunken slumber.

Then the screams had sounded within his nightmare, the sight of the beloved girl sinking into the sand as he found himself bound up on the private beach, unable to reach out and save her. All he could do was shout out for her until his throat ran dry.

“Y/n…” He mumbled as he woke, fearing that the unruly dream had become reality when he looked over to her side of the bed. Empty.

Maybe she was in the kitchen, or maybe she had slept in her room. There were a number of explanations for why she wasn’t beside him that very second, but the man couldn’t help but fear for the worst when he saw the untouched pillow.

“George!” He shouted, the noise echoing throughout the loft. His brother emerged from the hallway as he raced down the stairs with panic.

“What is it- hey! What’s wrong?” “Where’s y/n?” He asked shakily.

“Haven’t seen her, I thought she was sleeping with you?” “She’s not here,” Fred began to pace the living room, worrying about her absence above anything else.

“Then check downstairs she’s probably getting dressed.” As much as George knew he should be concerned about it all, he hated to jump to conclusions- especially when they hadn’t explored every possible reason for her being gone.

The twins wasted no time rushing down to the shop, the alley outside still quiet in the early morning. Fred pushed her door open, staring down at the room before him with a silent cry. George was close behind, quick to catch the other man’s body before it hit the ground.

“Hey - come on, she might have just popped out.” He tried to reason, but even his heart told him differently.

“I can tell, okay… it feels like that night all over again.” “It won’t be, I promise you Freddie- what the hell is that noise?” George’s attention was taken by a faint shout sounding out in the alley, one that they could only hear by the girl’s bedroom window. Fred didn’t seem bothered, presuming that his brother was just trying to distract him from the harsh reality that y/n was gone.

“D-Do you think it was those guys?” He asked from the doorway, his back propped against the wall.

“It sounds like someone’s out there…” George ignored.

“Georgie! I asked you someth-” “Shhh- It sounds like… no... “ “What? I can’t hear anything” “Come on.” The man moved away quickly, leaving Freddie to scramble to his feet alone and chase him through the shop.

“What the hell are you doing, we need to find y/n!” He hissed out, following as George burst out of the front door, the small jingle behind them seeming like an understatement. He followed the noise through the alley like a dog, forgetting that he was only in pyjamas. “You don’t even have shoes on!” The other man tried to tell him, but there was no use.

But the closer they got, the louder the shouts became, and even Fred couldn’t deny it any longer. It was desperate, but subdued, like whoever was crying for help had been doing so for hours now. It was a painful sound when they reached where the person was, both men stopping at the entrance of the particular street to take in the strange sight before them.

“Neville?” Both twins asked, quaintly reminiscent of the way they had spoken his name in unison back when they all went to Hogwarts together. This time, however, was slightly different. This time Neville Longbottom was tied up and gagged, left with bruises all over his face.

“Oh god, what the hell happened to you?” Fred rushed forwards, pulling the strip of fabric from his mouth and untying his hands as he told them.

“She’s gone,” Neville cried, tears streaming down his face. “I’m so sorry, I tried to stop him, but h-he had a knife, and he knew where Hannah was. I couldn’t warn y/n in time, he’d already taken her by then.”

“Taken! Taken where?” The man urged, pulling his friend to his feet once the restraints were gone.

“I don’t know- he knocked me out once he had her.”

“Well what did he look like- did he mention anyone else? Was it those guys who broke in here?” Fred couldn’t stop asking him questions, constantly thinking up something else that he might need to know about the missing girl’s assailant.

“Hey, give him some space freddie.” George held his brother’s shoulder, seeing how scarily focused his eyes had become. “Why don’t we get Nev back to the inn, then we can all decide what to do.” The man nodded silently, standing aside to let his twin take Neville’s arm and help limp him through the alley and towards the leaky cauldron.

He was too beaten up to help, but they could get the other’s, they needed others. Whoever had taken y/n meant business, so Fred knew that in order to get her back alive, he would need as many people on his side.

“I’ll catch up with you guys!” He called, taking a different route through the streets and ending up back at the loft. He grabbed some clothes and a jacket and made haste to the floo line, taking a single clarifying breath before he announced where he wanted to go.

“The burrow!”

Molly Weasley was nursing a hangover in her kitchen, enjoying the peaceful morning and the sun which beamed onto her skin through an open window. Arthur was in his armchair, skimming over the business section of that day’s prophet and cursing the way that Ginny stomped around in her room above him, making him restart the paragraph numerous times.

The girl in question sloped down to her mother, a scowl on her face when she saw a list of chores written on the chalkboard. Ones that she was no doubt expected to do, regardless of the fact that she would be leaving that afternoon.

“Drink this Ginny darling, you’ll feel much better.” Molly held out a beaker to her daughter, filled with some strange blue liquid. It looked like a hangover cure and certainly smelt like one too, but when Ginny tasted the drink, it was hard to hide her disgust. So she held her breath and chugged it down fast, hoping the other two glasses that sat on the counter weren’t also for her.

“See to it that Harry and Ron take them too will you, they’re still asleep I presume?” Molly questioned.

“Nope, both headed out for a fly early this morning, probably stopped by the lake to watch the sunrise, like the pair of pansies they are.” She scoffed, biting back the urge to hurl at the blue liquid’s aftertaste.

“Well then they’ll be fine without these!”

“If I had to suffer through it then so should they.” Ginny argued, seeing a small wince on her mother's face when she slightly raised her voice. “Sorry, I’ll make sure they take it, okay?”

The older woman nodded, mumbling something about laundry before heading off to the garden. Ginny was about to make some coffee, the one thing she praised Hermione for teaching her about, when there was a flash from the family’s floo line, followed by a concoction of panicked shouts.

“What - what is it?” She asked, careering into the hallway to see Fred steaming through the house in search of familiar faces.

“Ginny!” He looked relieved to see her, something that was out of the ordinary for the man. “Where is everyone?” His eyes were wild, scanning around her like he was expecting a ghost to jump him.

“Dad’s in the living room, mum’s outside- hey what’s going on?” She followed him as he went in search of his parent’s, Arthur looked up from his paper when his son walked in.

“Hello Fred my boy, how come you’re here?” The man checked his watch with a frown, only noticing Freddie now that he had shown himself. Arthur had perfected the art of blocking out loud noises in his own home, given the amount of children he had, it was something he had no choice over.

“I need everyone at the leaky cauldron … now!” He announced, pacing about to try and find the rest.

“Tell us what’s going on.” Ginny grabbed his shoulders, pushing him onto the nearby sofa with a grunt. The girl always was stronger than she looked.

“It’s y/n, she’s been taken.” “She’s been WHAT!” Molly screeched, having only heard the end of their exchange as she came back into the burrow with a pile of clean clothes in hand. They fell to the floor in shock.

“Mum! You and dad go to the leaky, Fred will explain more-” Ginny started, seeing that no one in the room was in a right state of mind. “-I’ll go get the boys from the lake.” The two parents nodded, gathering their jackets and heading to the floo.

“I need to get Bill, will he be at work already?” Fred asked his sister.

“He should just be getting in now.” She told him, not wasting a single second before grabbing her broom to fetch Ron and Harry from their lake. “Now GO!”

Fred jumped into action, apparating back to diagon alley and weaving through the hoards of people walking into their bank to start their day. He managed to get into the first open lift, looking very out of place amongst the group of serious businessmen.

“Bill!” He didn’t dare knock on the door to his brother’s office, instead opted that forcing his way inside would express the severity a bit better instead. The man inside jumped at the intrusion, knocking the cup of coffee all over his desk in momentary shock.

“What the hell Fred, what are you doing here?” He frowned, mopping up the mess with silent curses.

“We need to go now, y/n’s been taken… Neville tried to stop it but the guys had a knife.” It took no more than that to get Bill to his feet, following his younger brother silently as he explained more on their way back down to the alley.

“Does anyone know where she could be?” He asked.

“Not for certain, but I have some ideas.” Fred huffed, out of breath from all the running he had done that morning. Still, he kept a fast pace to make it to the leaky before anything worse happened.

The inn was quiet, barely anyone around at that hour of the morning. Everyone was gathered inside, gathering as much information as they could from Hannah and Neville as they waited for Fred to return with his older brother.

“Are we all here?” George asked, letting everyone take a seat before speaking directly to the small ground of their friends and family. “Good. Now Neville was the only one to see the guy who took y/n, he was tall, hooded and held a knife up to his throat.”

Neville sat in Hannah’s arms, obviously still shaken up from being left out in the cold all night. His wife nodded along to George’s words with empty eyes, trying to rack her brain for anyone who took a strange liking to the girl when she still worked for them. Then again, that was the majority of men who came in, it would take months to whittle it down.

“Once he had y/n, the man knocked him out- so that’s all we know. Whoever he was he didn’t want anyone else knowing about it till morning, that’s why he tied Neville up.” Everyone was silent, unsure if they knew anything at all that could help. Still, they wanted to be there to do something to save the girl.

“Has y/n said anything recently that would suggest she was being followed, or did you notice her acting strange?” Arthur spoke up, all of his children shaking their heads.

Fred felt the most useless out of them all. If y/n had known anything, or noticed something was off, she would have told him right? Or was he overestimating how much the girl trusted him, after all, he hadn’t been there to stop those guys from breaking in.

“I don’t think this was a random attack, he knew what he was doing.” Neville’s voice was quiet, even amongst the shared silence.

“How do you mean?” George asked, leaning against the bar in desperate defeat, wracking his brain for where she could be.

“Whoever he was, he knew where to find her- who she was.” “So he was looking for her?” Fred spun round, his neck clicking in the process, even his body hadn’t woken up yet.

“I think he only took me because I saw him outside the shop, and knew I would be suspicious of it.”

The group nodded in agreement. This couldn’t be the same men from the break-in, they were locked up now under Kingsley’s demand. This was a targeted kidnapping, someone had sent this man after y/n. But, who would want her back that badly?

“Her parents.” Fred said, a murmur of understanding waving over the others as it clicked in their minds. “It has to be them, who else would go to such lengths.” “But how do we find them?” Ginny asked. “I mean, no one knows where they live right?”

Everyone shook their heads, murmuring ideas on how they could track her family home down, that was where she had to be.

“Actually,” Hannah stood up, making sure Neville was stable enough before letting go of him. “I might have some old paperwork in my office, I can’t remember for sure if there’s anything on it- but it’s worth a look right?” George nodded, giving Fred a sympathetic look as it was obvious he was struggling to come to terms with the situation. He had just gotten his life back, he was happy, they were happy and they were finally together. And now there was a chance she could be gone for good. It was a lot to deal with.

“Thanks Han,” He mumbled, when the lady passed him, stopping to squeeze his shoulder in meek support.

“Right, can you guys go find Hermione?” George asked Ginny and Ron. “See if she can find any records about the girl, or her parents.” The duo stood quickly, sending a patronas to the girl in question to get her up to speeds before they arrived.

But before they even had a chance to reach the door a flash of blue light fluttered in through the open window, freezing everyone in their steps. The little dove flew over to Fred, who eyes it curiously, no one seemed to recognise it. That was until it started screaming out it’s message in a disturbingly recognisable voice.

“Fred I’m sorry, I tried to fight him-” The voice lowered, as if someone was nearby her. “Come to crag hall,” She was out of breath and shaky as she spoke, all the while the dove floated through the air calmly. “Please be quick, they’re going to- no… no!” She screamed out, the message cut off just as she pleaded with whoever was in the room with her.

There was a tense silence throughout those inside the inn once her voice stopped, no one wanting to speak in case they missed something. But the dove disappeared into thin air, and she was gone again.

“They’ll have taken her wand.” Bill said, mostly to himself, trying to piece together what they knew in an attempt to help.

“Crag hall.” Fred whispered. “She said go to Crag hall… w-where is that?” He searched the room, praying that someone would recognise the name.

“It’s far.” Molly said, all eyes on her. “About three hours from london.”

“But we can apparate, yes?” George pushed her, suddenly more optimistic now that they had a chance to get her.

“Not all together of course, that would be dangerous.” She explained.

“Then we’ll go in pairs, signal back for the next group to come when we know it’s safe to do so.” George announced.

“I’ll go first, scout for any wards.” Fred told his brother, seeing the look of hesitation that George pushed away, knowing there was no convincing him otherwise.

“I’m coming with you.” Ginny said.

“No, it’s too dangerous. You stay back with Bill.”

“She’s my best friend. I'm not arguing about this.” The girl, unfortunately, was just as determined and stubborn as the rest of them.

“Fine, but you stay close- and you listen to what I tell you okay? We don’t know these people, they could be armed.” He took a deep breath, trying to fight away the feeling of impending doom that came along with all the uncertainty.

“Right. Bill, you’ll come with me, then Harry and Ron- mum, dad you’ll be the last okay?” The parents nodded and Molly silently thanked her son for letting her make sure they all got there okay before heading in herself.

Suddenly the inn’s door burst open and a very smartly dressed Hermione stumbled into the group, catching her breath with a small wheeze.

“I’m coming too.” She told them, holding her hand up when Ron tried to protest it. “Ginny?”

“Best friend card and all, you can’t stop her.” She told her brother and he shook his head in defeat, knowing the girl’s were both fiery enough to handle themselves if need be.

“You can come with me and Bill, the second group.” The girl nodded, stripping off her stiff suit jacket and transfiguring her pencil skirt into a pair of jeans. “If anything goes wrong with the trip- if any of you get hurt at all, then you hide.” Fred told them all, taking all the confidence he had within him and spewing it into the small speech. “It would be too risky to try and get back alone, so just stay hidden and we can get you when it’s over.” Everyone nodded, hoping that they wouldn’t need to utilise the advice given.

Fred stood, holding Ginny’s hand and looked over the room.

“Let us know as soon as you see anything,” George told them. The pair nodded in unison, ignoring Molly’s worried gaze as she watched them disapparate from the room with a loud crack.

Ginny felt like someone was crushing her lungs when they landed amongst the wall of trees just outside the grounds of Crag hall. The girl had tried to cough out, reaching around desperately for her brother who was struggling to find his feet.

The sheer distance they had travelled was dangerous, especially when it was two of them, but Fred knew as he held a hand over his sister’s mouth that the pain would eventually subside.

“Shhh, Gin.” The girl writhed beneath him as he watched the clearing ahead, where the house stood surrounded by walled gardens. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, not daring to draw any attention to themselves, just in case there were guards patrolling. “It’ll pass… I promise.”

Once she could breath without hacking her throat away, Ginny surveyed the sight before them, trying to plan out how they could approach unnoticed.

“Do you think there will be wards set up?” She asked her brother who crouched beside her, always watching behind them in case someone wanted to sneak up.

“Hard to tell. Chances are they presumed no one knew about this place, so they didn’t bother.” “But the patronus-” “Exactly, with any luck we can try and get through before they’re set up.” He explained.

There was a group of three men stationed at the front gates to the property, unknowing of the Weasleys’ presence.

“No one’s patrolling this side, send a message to George- tell him that it’s clear now- but to watch out for anymore guards.” “What about that lot?” “We have to take them ourselves.” He looked down, seeing a look of apprehension on the girl’s face. It had been a very long time since he had seen her intimidated.

“Hey, if we don’t do it then it’s risking the others- we got lucky.” Ginny nodded along, knowing that they had no other choice but to take them out, and quietly too.

The man took her hand, running a little further along the tree line before heading to the closest side of the walled garden. He boosted the girl up over it, watching carefully as she balanced herself and crouched low above it.

“I’ll take them from up here, catch them off guard- you get them from behind.” She told the man, before sneaking along the high wall.

Fred propelled himself into the neatly arranged flowerbed, suppressing his groan when he landed on his back, hoping that no one had heard the thud his body had made. There wasn’t enough time to think it through though, when there was a surprised shout and the sound of hexes flying through the air.

The noises silenced quickly as the man raced through the shrubbery towards the front gates, but the flashes of coloured light still appeared above the bushes that blocked his view of the fight.

Ginny, however, was someone Fred didn’t need to worry about. She had petrified one of the guards upon sight, before cutting the other two’s shouts with a silencing charm. That had given her an upper hand as she jumped down from the wall to avoid a hex being thrown her way.

Despite using her head, these men were twice her size, and wanted to use that against her. One of them lunged forward, trying to seize her as the other dodged around him with his wand outstretched.

But because of the guard tackling Ginny, it meant he couldn’t risk casting anything towards them in case he hit the wrong one. But it kept them busy long enough for Fred to stun the man from behind, before ripping the other off his little sister with a suppressed growl.

Once he had been stunned and tied up, along with the other two, Ginny sent her patronus to the others, warning them of other possible guards. The two kept to the edges of the walled garden, with the hopes that they could sneak up on the hall without causing anymore commotion.

The building was tall, with a very open courtyard preceding it.

“Through there,” Fred whispered, pointing to the nearest door on the left side of the house. “We should avoid being out in the open.” He told her.

Y/n watched out of her bedroom window, wandless and alone, in a room that felt like it had belonged to a ghost. She felt like a ghost, just waiting for the worst to happen. The night had gone by with her knocked out, only to be woken up by her mother’s serpent-like eyes watching over her.

Little words were exchanged, knowing that whatever she said would only hurt her case even more. So the girl opted for silence whenever someone would sit in, only to watch her mope around by the window like a forgotten lover.

Fred. He was all she could think about. She wondered whether he knew the truth, if Neville was okay, if he had been able to tell them what happened. One of her parent’s henchmen had come in while she was casting her patronus, cutting it off when he wrenched the wand from her hands. All the girl could hope was that it actually made it to them.

One of the head maids came into the room, her eyes sunken like she had aged several years in the space of a few months.

“Madam has requested you in the ballroom.” The woman hung a long black dress bag, sealed up, on the back of her door. She stayed firmly in her spot, all the while watching the floor, as if she couldn’t bring herself to look at the poor girl.

“What is it?” The girl rasped out, her throat raw from all the sobbing she had already done. Now it felt like she couldn’t cry again, regardless of what happened.

“Madam would like you to change into this, I must assist.”

The girl frowned, not one for confrontation, especially not with someone who so obviously didn’t deserve it. But it was frustrating how little the maid was telling her. So instead of lashing out, y/n walked over to the bag and pulled on its zipper.

Her breath held in her throat, lodged. Before her was a long, white dress. Hung lifeless before her. Something inside her felt like this was a joke, but then she remembered where she was and her heart crumbled.

“I-I don’t understand?” She turned to the woman beside her, her hands clutching shakily against the silk fabric that draped like curtains.

“This is all I can say mistress.” “Please.” She begged. “Help me… please don’t let this happen.” The girl turned hysterical, her knees failing as she crashed to the floor with a wail of desperation.

It shouldn’t be like this. It should be later, it should be when she wants it, with who she wants it with.

With Fred.

The group followed Fred and Ginny’s warnings, watching out for extra guards and taking them down as quietly as they could. One by one they joined each other inside the grounds, in a secluded spot away from the windows.

Fred was adamant to get inside but Ginny had stopped him, reminding the man that what they were walking into was unknown. For all they knew y/n’s parents could have a whole army waiting for them.

“What are you and your wand gonna do against a whole house of people eh?” She had hissed to him, which finally hit home that he couldn’t just rush in and save the girl that easily.

So they waited, and snuck in together, keeping Mr and Mrs Weasley in the rear to watch out for anyone who could follow them.

“I don’t like this.” George had whispered, catching up with his brother at the front of the group. “It’s too quiet.” Admittedly they were walking through what looked to be an old service entrance, the dust and cobwebs indicating that no one had used it in a good few years. But still, houses like these echoed, and yet there wasn’t a single sound coming from anywhere else above them.

The girl begged and begged, but she couldn’t escape her fate. The maid had tried to coax her into the wedding dress kindly, warning her that if she didn’t do as her parents said then there would be consequences.

In the end, one of the men who had been keeping watch outside her bedroom ended up coming inside. He had heard the desperate commotion and told the girl to keep quiet. When she, yet again, refused to change the man had stunned her.

When she came to the room was spinning like a carousel, the lights of the chandelier blurring into one on the ceiling. That was when the girl realised she was no longer in the moderate safety of her bedroom anymore.

The silk burnt her skin. It shouldn’t have, but it did and it flared across every inch of her body like a raging forest fire. She tried to move, but someone had her tied again, bound at the wrists and ankles. What a sight she must have been, curled up in a wedding dress and left on the floor of her family’s ballroom.

Her murmurs of confusion alerted two other men in the room, dressed the same as the one who had knocked her out and the one who had taken her from diagon alley.

“Come come sweetie, why don’t we get you on your feet.” His voice sickened her from across the room, he looked at her with a smug sense of pride. It was like he was a hunter and she was his prize catch of the day all dressed in white.

“Where’s Neville?” Her voice was still scratchy, it sounded pathetic against the deep acoustics of the room.

“The quivering mess of a man?” The beast holding her spat, his teeth bared at her cheeks. “I’d barely call him a man-” Another one of them scoffed.

“Now now, we’re graced enough to see a beautiful ceremony today boys, let’s be respectful.” The kidnapper smiled, demanding the attention of everyone who dared speak against him.

“I don’t understand,” She tried to force herself away from the two men’s grip, but they held tight, keeping her as still as they could.

“Well… that’s not for me to explain pretty lady.” He laughed, pacing up and down the room.

“Who will?” The double doors opened behind them, making everyone turn to see. Y/n stumbled slightly, her feet still bound together.

“Let her go, I will not have my daughter married off in shackles.” His voice boomed, louder than anyone else's as he commanded the henchmen to free her. Still they held onto her, making sure she would not run off.

“Father- please!” The girl begged, dropping to her knees, “You can’t do this to me!” “This marriage is happening young lady, whether you’re happy about it or not.” The shrill tone was easy to guess, without her even coming into sight for another few seconds.

“Mother, I’m begging- just let me go… I-I won’t bother either of you ever again!”

“Stand up.” She commanded, her presence daunting even to those watching over her like a prisoner. “You should have considered that before you ran off and tarnished our family name… it is too late for you to redeem yourself- this is our only option.” The woman explained curtly, before taking her place at the side of the girl’s father.

“Besides-” The kidnapper neared her as she wriggled beneath the two men’s arms, lifting her back to her feet. “I’ve heard your groom-to-be is quite the catch.” He winked.

Harry and Ron took down two more guards while George and Fred tried to find their way through the complex labyrinth which was Crag hall, stunning any staff who got in their way.

“Try through there?” George suggested, but it took them to yet another dead end.

“We’re never gonna find her like this, and who knows how the others are getting on.” Fred complained, not wasting a single second before retracing their steps and trying a different direction.

Bill and Hermione came careering round a corner, the older man just managing to get out of the way of a stray hex when the girl pulled him into an empty room.

“What are you doing here?” He asked the two men, but George was already running after whoever had attacked them.

“It’s a dead end, half of this place is empty- George was right, something’s wrong.” Fred huffed, out of breath from bursting through multiple locked doors.

“Maybe they’re all in one place.” Hermione offered up, which was the first good idea anyone had suggested all day. “You know, if they need y/n for something- then everyone would be with her.”

The two men nodded, hearing George’s whistle which signalled that it was clear to come out. He knelt beside the stunned guard, trying to find anything on him that could help. A set of keys jingled against his belt.

“These might work for the rooms upstairs?” He suggested to the small group.

“Bill you go with him, I think me and Fred need to try something different.” Hermione stated, sending the other men off with a quick nod.

“Here,” She handed Fred the unconscious man’s wand. “Don’t want him coming round too quickly and hexing our heads off.” “Not really, if we can help it that is.” He shoved it inside his coat pocket, unbothered by whether it snapped in the process of another fight. “So what’s the plan?” The man asked.

Hermione watched the halls tentatively as she led him back to the first floor.

“If you needed somewhere to hide your daughter, then it wouldn’t be in sight, right?” The girl asked, as if it was a common situation to find yourself in.

“Well… no, so you think there’s a secret room?”

“I’m sure of it.”

The two of them stood under the doorway to the library and Fred wanted to groan, knowing that whenever a plan was involved Hermione would want to do her research before rushing into things.

The girl’s sobs were like a moaning ghost, echoing over the large ballroom which held only a small group of people. The man before her was older, she could tell, but that was about all she knew about him. His face was unrecognisable to the friends her parents would have over for big parties, which meant all of this was just a business deal for them.

A knife was placed against her back, the point slicing through the silk dress whenever she tried to move. So she didn’t dare. Her parents had silenced her, bored of hearing the begs for them to let her go.

“It is obvious that none of this needs to be dragged out.” Her father stated, smiling politely at the smartly dressed man who stood before her. “So we won’t dawdle.”

“Of course sir.”

Behind the charm, y/n screamed at the top of her lungs, hoping that the sheer volume of it could break through and alert someone. Not that anyone would come, they were out in the middle of nowhere with a household of people fulfilling her twisted parents’ wishes.

“Mr Nott-” Who the hell was this man? “Do you take my daughter, Miss y/l/n to be your lawful wedded wife?”

“I do.” He smirked, obviously quite pleased to have bagged himself a young, unwilling, bride. The girl was sobbing, her eyes blurred as her father turned to her.

“Do you Miss y/l/n, take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?”

She choked on her words, shaking her head as best she could with the grief running through her body. Whoever was holding the knife behind her stepped closer, sliding the blade slowly across her exposed back, just to remind her of what would happen if she disobeyed.

“You will agree.” Her mother’s voice sounded out, as she lifted her wand to remove the silencing charm with a deep breath. The girl nodded, racking her brain for any way that she could escape this hell.

Her throat untightened, the noise reaching them all as she sighed out in sudden relief. But it was short lived. Here laid her future, presented in the form of this cruel man who wanted a woman to listen to his every need and keep quiet. Never had she missed diagon alley more than in that moment, she begged to be back in the loft with the twins, in Fred’s arms, watching George guzzle down glass after glass of wine until he passed out. That was the life she chose. Not this.

Maybe the knife’s fate was sweeter than this. A sharp, short price to pay for running away. One that would be better than a lifetime of regret. The silver metal was cold against her skin, a constant reminder.

As Mr Nott’s eyes fixated on her, like he had just won her at a fair, the girl decided what was to be. The blade could finish this pain, once and for all.

“I will never marry this man.” The girl spat out, a sudden rush of happiness in herself that she had managed to finally speak out against her parents wishes. The confidence glowed all over her in that moment, the shine on her cheeks as she smiled in the confused face of her, no longer, husband to be.

There was a loud crash from the double doors.

“We don’t have time to read over these books Hermione, y/n could be in danger!” Fred reminded her, watching the girl scan over the surrounding shelves.

“I’m not reading Freddie, I’m looking for a way in.” “Huh?”

“All these books, there was something strange about them.” She explained, not stopping to look at the man who stood behind her.

“I thought I noticed something when we first checked in here, but we left too quickly for me to figure it out.”

“What? Hermione what’s in here?”

“These books, every single one of them are their most recent additions. In fact, they’re all brand new, not a single one looks as though it’s been picked up.”

“So, people don’t read books- you do know that isn’t a crime right?” Fred scoffed, but the girl just ignored him.

“Why would anyone fill up a library with new books?” “Because it’s a new library?”

“An old house like this has rooms that date back centuries, none of them look renovated, yet this one has obviously been done up on purpose.”

“Why in here then?” “Because in here, they are hiding something.” “Like a secret room!” “And you’ve got it, finally.”

Hermione found a crank between two of the bookcases, hidden by a large armchair.

“Here help me out.” Between them they managed to use the crank to push the bookshelves away, two double doors hidden perfectly behind it.

“Find anythin- woah!” Ginny said from the library’s doorway, having spotted them on her way past.

“Get the others, quick!” Fred ordered, sending the redheaded girl into a frenzy through the rest of the house.

He reached out for the handles, grunting when they didn’t budge under his weight.

“It’s been locked from the inside.” He huffed.

“Step back, let me try.” The girl beside him offered.

When the rest of the group arrived, both of them were throwing hexes at the unmoving doors. Both exhausted by the amount of shouting and fighting they’d already been through.

“I think we all need to do it, it shifted a little when I started helping.” Fred explained, stepping aside to let his brothers get a better stance. They all held their wands up high, pointed towards the locks.

With one almighty scene of hexes, the two doors flew off their hinges with a deafening crash. The clouds of smoke kept them in the dark for a few seconds, until Fred couldn’t hold himself back much longer and burst through it to get a better look at what was hidden inside.

“Freddie!” The girl screamed. She was on her knees, the white dress pooled around her as she hit the ground. Above her a man was holding her back, doing all he could to stop her from getting away to the safety of Fred.

The man was someone the twins knew, someone that the whole group was unfortunately familiar with. Someone whom Freddie wished he had killed during the war, when he had that chance.

Although Theodore Nott wrestled with her, he still managed to keep a smug look about him when he saw the Weasley’s and their friends stood amongst the ballroom’s debris.

“Let her go!” Fred boomed, ignoring the threatening stances he was faced with.

“I’m afraid there’s already been arrangements made, Weasley, seems you’ll have to find yourself another silly girlfriend.” He scoffed, yanking the whimpering girl to her feet.

Y/n thrashed with more furiosity than anyone had seen her possess in their time knowing her, spitting harsh words to the man holding her captive. Fred was joined by the rest of his group, who fought the other guards viciously, as well as the girl’s parents who weren’t ones to take the sidelines in any fight.

“I’d be more careful if I were you.” Theo hissed in her ear, low enough that no one could hear over the commotion. He held her there for a moment, so she could watch the guards hurl themselves upon Harry and Ginny. She screamed out for them to stop, but it was useless.

The twins made a run for her, everyone else too busy fighting to get the chance, but Theo was quicker. He whipped out his wand before they even had a chance to react, tossing two sharp hexes their way and knocking them to the ground.

Fred tried to get up but it was useless, only his head could move ever so slightly. He turned to her, seeing the fear on her face at the sight of his nearly lifeless body. The sound of her screams were the worst he’d heard, worse than the night of the break-in. Because she wasn’t bothered about her life this time. Now she was screaming out for Freddie, begging him to be okay.

His face moved, his eyes flickered at the last glimpse of her and the girl gasped with relief. There was a small smile on her face, before it was dragged away from the man. A last glimmer of hope, he saw it as, she was his last hope at happiness.

When the twins came around they were relieved to see that the guards, along with y/n’s parents, were knocked out and tied up against the far wall.

“Where is she!” Ginny was yelling at them, uncaring of the fact that they were just slipping back into consciousness. Molly was trying to stop her, but it was a futile attempt.

“Theo has her.” George groaned, getting to his feet with the help of Bill and Arthur. Hermione held out a hand for Fred, seeing the way his eyes glassed over at the thought of her.

“She has to be here somewhere.” He whispered, mostly to himself, but the girl beside him heard it still.

“Why do you say that?” She asked.

“If they were going to apparate, they would have done it the second we got here.” He explained, barely waiting a second before heading out of the ballroom in the direction that Nott took the girl away.

“You think he needs her here?” “I think the wards that have been set up are keeping her here, if Nott thinks her parents are still alive then he won’t know that they’ve been broken, right?” “Very clever.” She commended him. “But I think there could be something-” “I know. I saw the dress, I’m not that oblivious- but still, he needs her here to have her parent’s blessing if they’re to marry. He hasn’t got that, so he’ll be hiding.”

The man was pacing the halls quicker than he’d walked in his entire life, scanning each room as he passed it in case they were inside.

“Hermione!” Ron called from back down the hallway.

“What?” She barked, noticing how Fred didn’t even stop his search.

“We need to obliviate them, could buy us some time.” “Then do it!” “You’re the best at it, come on.” Ron raced back into the ballroom, hearing his fiance groan behind him.

“Hey, Fred?” “I’ll be fine, just go!” He called back, leaving her little choice as she went to obliviate the minds of their captives.

The girl had sat in silence ever since Mr Nott had thrown her into one of the guest bedroom’s, keeping his wand pointed at the door. He didn’t want to lock it. He found great joy in telling y/n how he would hex the first person to come through it, laughing over the thought of their lifeless face.

It was blatant to see how the man played around with lives like they were his toys. But all she could think about was how Freddie was laying on the ballroom floor, his eyes full of helpless tears as she was dragged away.

As much as she wanted him to be okay, she begged that he wouldn’t be the one to open that door and face whatever jinx her captor was going to throw.

“Why?” Her voice was dull, void of any hope or joy.

“Speak up, you’re mumbling.” He spat, barely glancing her way as she lay crumpled against the far side of the room, as far from him as she could get within those four walls.

“Why!” Now she was just angry.

She wanted to see her parents suffer, she wanted to see those awful creeps in pain… but most of all she wanted to see Mr Nott writhing in a pool of his own blood. Fred deserved to see that, she deserved to do it.

“Why what?” The man chuckled, amused by the way she scowled at the back of his head.

“Why bother fighting this hard? What have they promised you?”

“A pretty bride of course.” He laughed, his wand outstretched at the sound of some nearby noise down the hallway. His tone was gut wrenching, making the girl want to vomit on his newly polished dress shoes.

“Cut the shit.” She spat, her bones weak from the hours of being tied up and left to starve.

“Your mummy and daddy never told me they had a feisty one,” He turned, losing interest in the door, and approached her. She had nowhere to go, the balcony door was locked and all the furniture was too heavy to try and break the glass.

“Stop it…” She whispered, sick of fighting him off every few minutes, but his hands still reached up to her face. The man grabbed her jaw, rendering her gaze stuck on his.

“You’ve been promised to me… and that’s all I wanted- now be good and do what I say.” He laughed at the way she gulped beneath his harsh grip, digging deeper with each passing second. The pain was a happy sight to the sick man.

“All you want is to own me.” She almost laughed at this small revelation, a weak and airy one at that.

“Now she’s got it.” Theodore hissed, his hand unmoving from her now marked skin.

There was another noise, reminding the man that he was being followed. So he stood again, leaving her slumped in slight relief to watch the door as the footsteps grew slowly closer. They were hesitant, yet heavy. It was him, it had to be.

“Have you ever been in love?” The girl asked, desperately trying to distract him once again. It could buy some time for Freddie, if Mr Nott wasn’t waiting to throw his hex immediately.

The man’s back stiffened a little.

“Hasn’t everyone been in love once, little girl.” He chuckled, dismissing her question.

“But you haven’t?” She pushed.

There was no answer, he just remained with his wand pointed at the door. Except it shook slightly as he reminisced, unbeknownst to the girl.

“Was she pretty?” Y/n knew she was pushing her luck, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

“She... “ He breathed heavily, most likely contemplating why he was even entertaining her curiosity. “Well, it’s me- of course she had to be pretty. I would never settle for less.” His arrogance returned from the sidelines with one deep breath.

“What happened?” “It’s none of your business, now keep quiet.” He could hear whoever was in the hallway getting closer, and the girl’s voice was becoming more and more off putting.

“Mr Nott-” It was the first time she had addressed him all day. “I’m sorry for however you fell out of love, I can’t imagine it was pleasant in the slightest.” He made no reaction, so she kept going.

“Then again, I haven’t been in love before… not before Freddie.” She could see the way his chest heaved more than before as his eyes bored into the wooden doorframe. “So, I wouldn’t know what it is like to lose that love… but I suppose that is a threat as of today.”

Theodore tried to block her out, really he tried, knowing that any second that door before him would fly open and one of the Weasley clan would charge inside to claim his bride as their own.

But all he could think about was her. The one woman he had truly loved, after years of damning the feeling to death, was no longer his to be with. As his hand shook furiously before him, flashes of her perfect smile and devious ways washed through his mind.

She was married to another, by arrangement, his own offer cast aside when the whole ordeal became a business plan. Her father had never seen him suitable from the start, yet he had kept up the naive hope that the woman would see him as perfect enough to disobey her father’s requests.

He wasn’t, however, suitable for anyone it seemed.

“Who was she Mr Nott?” “Shut up!” The man snapped, still unable to concentrate as he had been doing so.

“It will help to talk,” “I do not need to talk to you bitch, now be quiet.”

The footsteps were gone. Or maybe he couldn’t hear them over the sound of his thudding heart. But it panicked him, made him scramble over to the girl in white who cowered at his advance.

He picked her up from the floor and whispered a spell on the french doors behind them, hearing the locks open. The girl whimpered once again in his arms, shivering as the wind rushed inside the room behind them, the threat of the balcony nearing.

“Please,” Y/n whispered, maybe to him, maybe to herself. But it made the man holding her jump slightly, looking down to see her staring at the door with hopeful intent.

For a split second she held such a look of determination that he was reminded of another, suddenly seeing the girl as someone he had loved in the past. It enthralled him how, even faced against a doomed future, she held onto the idea that Fred would save her. He knew the bastard Weasley would do all he could, too. Theodore knew she was loved, something he had never been.

“Pansy…” Mr Nott said airily, watching the girl and recognising her.

“What?”

“Pansy... Zabini.”

The door flew open, shocking them both. Fred was exhausted, his face pale and his body hunched over in pain as he all but fell into the room. There was no time for the girl’s captor to react when he heard the words expelliarmus fall from her lover’s lips.

Nott’s wand flew across the room, despite his attempts to catch it back.

“That was a very bad idea Weasley.” He laughed, remembering why he deserved this. Why he deserved the girl as his own, she was his to show off. To remind everyone that Theodore Nott wasn’t a lovesick fool for anyone.

The man produced a blade, bigger than the one previously pressed into the girl’s back. Now it prodded her side, making her torso tense up once again, yet her eyes softened at the sight of Freddie. Even if he did look like hell.

“Don’t hurt her, you bastard!” Fred spat, holding his hands in the air to show he meant no harm. Anything to protect her, he told himself, as long as nothing happens to y/n.

“Wand down.” Theo spat, chuckling at how easily he’d gained control of the situation.

“Fine, just let her go.”

“No can do, she’s been promised- my prize.” He cooed, feeling the way the girl beside him gulped when he got closer.

All the while, as the Slytherin bragged about his bride to be, Freddie’s eyes remained on the girl. They begged him to save her, to help her, to take her far away and stay with her forever. But she didn’t say a word, just watched him.

“The thing is, Weasley, that your little play thing here- she is just like all the other girls out there… so very disposable.” The knife in Nott’s hands ran up her body, grazing the dress with a light scratching sound. It grated in her mind as she held her breath.

“Please Theo, don’t.” Freddie begged, watching how the blade rested upon her neck. Every shaky breath she took knocked it about, her eyes widening every time.

“All this time she’s been crying and begging and whimpering, don’t you start too.” He sneered, holding the girl’s left arm tighter. “Weak little thing, don’t you agree?”

Fred tried to shake his head, the words not coming out even as he tried.

“Shame. I think she’s purely useless- worthless little y/n?” Theo turned to the girl, her scornful gaze somewhat a shock to him. Still, it gave him a chuckle. “Even her parents didn’t care about her… I see why.”

“Mr Nott?” She asked, her voice like an angel’s to Freddie.

“Yes darling.” Theodore teased, turning back to the redhead with a smug look.

Only to face the girl with shameful horror when she whispered “legilimens”.

He had no chance to fight it, no way to block her from seeing it all. The endless days spent with Pansy at Hogwarts, so in love with one another that it disgusted their friends to no end. She saw how they fought through the war together, side by side, only to be ushered away by their parents when it was clear they were to lose. The girl watched over his memories of the trials, his pleads of being under the imperius curse, his testimony to Pansy’s innocence. Only for the girl to announce her engagement to Blaise Zabini once they were pardoned and allowed to live freely. The girl felt the way his heart broke, over and over, time again. She could feel how little he valued himself, she could see the mask he wore.

“You bitch!”

The knife plunged deep into her side, a ricochet of shouts from Freddie as she stumbled away from Theodore. He ripped it out, the gash in the dress draping open to show off the bloody slit that was now in her skin.

It was a blur, as Fred grabbed his wand and advanced towards the man who held a look of regret over his face. But it wasn’t enough to save him.

“Stupefy”

He slumped onto the balcony railing, his eyes trained on her as she found her footing against the french doors. They were welling up now, covered in hazed tears. With all the pent up adrenaline left inside her she lunged for the man, grabbing his collar and holding his upper body over the edge, threatening to let him fall onto the cobblestones below.

“You remember. I know it all.” She whispered. “Find someone who loves you.” It was a stern plea. Y/n knew that without it, Theodore Nott would only descend into madness.

Fred came to her side when she fell, matching the way the stunned man’s body fell against the railings. The girl’s eyes closed every few seconds, her head misting over as the twin tried desperately to keep her awake.

“Please… y/n…. Wake up…. I need you awake…. I need you.” He begged, fading into nothing as she fell slowly forward into his arms.

Her lips parted as she tried to speak, slowly, but with her last drags of determination.

“Theodore? If you try this again…. With me… or anyone else…” Her breath got heavy as she struggled to push away the pain much longer, the searing sting piercing her side as if she’d been struck a second time. “Then… I’ll push you over.”

With that final warning her eyes closed for good and her body collapsed lifelessly against Fred who couldn’t bring himself to utter a single word as he scrambled around the room for his wand. It took another look at Theo, frozen in his fear to realise what the girl had seen inside his head must have meant something to her. Or else he would have been in a pool of his own blood, on the courtyard below.

“Y/n…” He finally managed. “I’m sorry, this is going to hurt.” Freddie closed his eyes, holding onto her for dear life and ignored the way he wanted to crumble into a string of sobs just at the sight of her. Then they disappeared, leaving Theodore to be found on the balcony…. Alone.

taglist:

@hufflrpuffforfred

@a--1--1--3

@lilypad-55449

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sage-nebula · 4 years ago

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((do NOT reblog))

Lately I’ve been thinking that I have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I’ve been tired—like, extremely so—for . . . maybe a year now? If not longer. It feels like it settled in shortly after I started my new job back in March of 2019, so in that case it’d be more like a year and nine months, but it’s hard to say for sure. I thought for a long time that it was because of my new job, because I have to wake up early in the morning for it and my delayed sleep phase disorder means that I’m running on a lower than average hours of sleep each night during the week. But lately I think it’s more than that.

See, the thing is, it doesn’t matter how much sleep I get. Even if I get the suggested nine hours a night, I’m still dozing off a little after waking up, like a couple hours later. Even if I get twelve, thirteen, or fourteen hours of sleep in a night, sure enough I’ll be dozing off again a few hours after waking up. I have no energy to do anything on the weekends. Even if I get the aforementioned thirteen hours of sleep Friday going into Saturday, on Saturday I still feel so drained that doing a load of laundry leaves me feeling completely wiped out. This causes mess to pile up in my house, because I just don’t have the energy to get it done, because I only start to feel normal by Sunday night (and even then it’s like barely normal) but then the work week starts again. I had a four day weekend this weekend thanks to the Christmas holiday, and I spent both Thursday and Friday with no energy to do anything at all. Even when I didn’t feel sleepy, I felt so drained of energy that just laying there felt like the most that I could do. Today I’ve felt a bit better, but still recuperating. Tomorrow, my last day off, is the only day I think I’ll have the energy to actually do stuff and get my house in order. But then the work week starts again, and so does the cycle anew.

And the thing is, this isn’t normal. I didn’t used to be like this. Even when I was only getting like five hours of sleep a night, I’d just need a day or so of rest and then I’d be back at 100%. But now it’s like I’m slow charging, and it’s never enough because I don’t have time for it to be enough. One or two days of sustained activity is enough so that my body wants to shut down for like a week. And it’s not sustainable! It’s very hard to live like this! I can’t keep my house clean or do basically anything else because I feel so drained. This is also why I haven’t written anything of substance in so long; even though writing isn’t a physical activity (aside from the physical activity of typing), it still takes energy, and that’s energy that I just haven’t had. My battery is constantly in the red, yellow at best, and I don’t know what to do about it.

About four or five months ago, when I told my doctor about this, he gave me Antidepressant #2 in an effort to help it. That seemed to work for like, a day or two . . . then I went right back to falling asleep at my desk at work no matter how much I slept the night before. I recently asked him to up the dosage to see if that would help, and he agreed*, but then I discovered that upping the dosage gives me tinnitus, and people on the internet say that after they kept using it despite the tinnitus it got to the point where the tinnitus never went away even after they stopped the medication, so. I’ve decided to stop taking that one and I’m going to try to wean myself off it. I’ll talk to him about that on Monday.

(*He said that he didn’t think that it would help and suggested that I exercise to get more energy instead. Of course, the fatal flaw of that plan is that I don’t have the energy needed to exercise in the first place. Plus, my legs are such shit that even things like jump rope cause my right ankle and left shin to be fucked up for days afterward. He suggested I try yoga, since that’s a low impact exercise, and I’ve got myself a mat to give it a shot, but I don’t have much optimism about it making much of a difference.)

I looked up Chronic Fatigue Syndrome online and it honestly does sound like it fits. I’m constantly exhausted, I have daily headaches (which could be down to my genetics since I do have genetic migraines but still), I often have muscle pain in various parts of my body, etc. But at the same time I’m not sure if it’s actually that or if I’m just overreacting. Like I don’t know what the threshold is, or if I’m like, I don’t know . . . what if I’m just lazy? I don’t think I am, because there are things I genuinely wish I could do that I just don’t have the energy to do. I wish I could take my dog on hikes and long walks. Pre-pandemic, I wanted to do things like go to the art museum or the science center or the zoo. I’d like to do rock climbing, provided my legs could handle that, and so on. But even before the pandemic, I never had the energy on the weekends to actually go out and do those things. I’d want to! But then I’d feel so dead that I couldn’t even get out of bed before late afternoon / evening, much less actually go out to do things. Don’t get me wrong, I do take my dog on short walks at least once a day, usually multiple times a day, because I’d never neglect her needs like that. But it’s not the same as being able to take her out to a trail and explore new areas that would surely be more interesting to her nose than just our neighborhood.

So I don’t think I’m lazy, because I want to do these things, and even smaller things, like I wish that my house could be clean and that I could make all these interior decorating renovations to it, but I just don’t have the energy. But I still don’t know if it’s actually bad enough to be considered Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I still don’t know if I’m overreacting. What if this is a level of exhaustion that everyone has, but unlike me they can push through it? What if this is just part of Being Thirty and I’m just too weak to handle it? It’s like how I didn’t know if the pain I felt during my period was normal or not, and I still don’t actually. My gyno gave me the birth control implant to drive my periods down just because I asked for it, she didn’t actually diagnose me with any illness like endometriosis or anything like that. Sure, it felt like machetes were being shoved up into me every month to the point where I’d become incapacitated and sometimes even cry out in pain and sometimes even throw up due to how bad it was, but it could be that way for everyone, right? Maybe that’s just how it feels to have the lining of your uterus shred itself because it’s mad you didn’t get pregnant that month. How am I supposed to know?

There’s no real point to this post. It’s more that I just wanted to get my thoughts down somewhere. I don’t even know where to go from here, really. I don’t think my doctor takes me seriously enough to look into a diagnosis like this, but also I’ve never had luck finding a doctor that does take me seriously and I don’t really know where to start looking. To be fair, I do have an anxiety disorder and so I grant that my mind does find jumping to the Worst Case Scenario to be an easy one, but also the last doctor I had literally would not listen to me describe my breathing problems to her without dismissing me entirely, so. It’s been rough. Of course, even if I did get a diagnosis, it’s not like there’s a treatment, and definitely not a cure. So even if I do have CFS, what can be done about it? It’s not like knowing will solve the issues that it causes in my life.

I don’t know. There’s no point to this. It just really sucks to be fucking physically exhausted all of the goddamn time, especially since sleep does little to help it and I hate sleeping anyway since I have nightmares at least 75% of the time, if not 85%. (It honestly feels more like 85%. Maybe even 90%. It’s very rare that I wake up having not had at least one or two bad dreams that night.) I just want to have energy. I don’t know what that’s so much to ask of my body.

But anyway, DO NOT reblog this, or I’ll just delete it so the cut leads nowhere anyway and also block you, thank you,

#just medical ramblings under the cut #//--do not reblog--//

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scribblyspaceskeleton · 4 years ago

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My fiancee @martianmaenad mentioned a while back that I went through a lot of trauma and mental health troubles that I have since mostly recovered from, and they left it up to me to give details about what happened to me.

I'm going to talk at length about some very heavy topics, so here's a trigger warning for suicidal thoughts, paranoid delusions, and psychological abuse and neglect.

-----

My adoptive parents are narcissists, full stop. If you're familiar with this kind of abuse, you know exactly what I went through and the long lasting damage that kind of gaslighting can do.

I'm pretty sure my adoptive dad didn't even want me, and he stopped pretending to care around the time I was diagnosed with autism.

But by far the worst thing they did was put me through abusive ABA "therapy" with this practitioner who, on top of everything else, tried to cure me with fucking essential oils.

After a certain point I just broke. My mind couldn't take it anymore and all the latent mental health problems hidden in my genes came out at full force. Welcome to the wonderful world of bipolar disorder and serious emotional instability.

My mental health from around 2008 to 2016 was at absolute rock bottom.

I was wandering around passively suicidal, with intense intrusive thoughts and unchecked paranoid delusions that made me terrified of absolutely everything.

I had really bad swings of manic depression and that came with some incredibly worrying symptoms, especially when I was manic.

I thought I could control the weather and that I could move things with my mind.

I thought the NSA was following me and that people could hear my thoughts and I'd instantly go to prison for accidentally clicking on the wrong link, or that if I didn't control what I thought it would explode a blood vessel in someone's brain and kill them on the spot.

I remember at one point it was so bad I couldn't eat because I thought my food was poisoned.

My parents either took me to ineffectual psychiatrists who just gave me pills that didn't work, or just ignored the situation and hoped my mental illness would just go away and stop inconveniencing them.

I was isolated so much and for so long, basically kept in my room in solitary confinement aside from internet access on my computer that they loved to take away (thankfully I hid my DSi in my room so I could still talk to people without being caught!).

Even then I had a hard time keeping online friends because I was prone to trauma dumping, and I had an explosive temper and would lash out and get into verbal fights with people over small things. I alienated a lot of people and I'm still ashamed of the way I acted, there was no excuse for that kind of behavior.

My mind broke itself into pieces just so I would have someone to talk to, and I still have multiple alters and what I believe is some form of DID.

My room was your typical "depression nest" and I had absolutely no energy to even try to clean it, so I was essentially trapped in this filthy cell block.

In early 2014, a college professor called the campus police because my mental state had deteriorated visibly to the point I needed an emergency evaluation- it just now fully hit me that I easily could have been killed and I wouldn't have cared.

The full weight of realizing how easily I could have died hit me like a freight train last night, my life was dangling by the tiniest thread and someone could have reached up and snipped it in an instant if they saw fit.

I was 18. I'm about to turn 25 this summer, and sometimes waking up in the morning still shocks me a little bit because I still have no idea how I'm still alive.

But I'm still here. And I'm not hurting anymore.

My mind is mostly quiet and I'm no longer in pain.

I climbed all the way out of that hole, after years of therapy and medication that actually worked, and meeting the love of my life who steadfastly refused to give up on me even when I was at my worst.

I've learned to look into myself and understand what I'm feeling and why, and I'm still learning how to communicate what's on my mind after having shut myself away for so long. But I'm the most stable I've been in the better part of a decade and I'm still on an upward climb.

It looks like only good is going to come my way in the long run, and while I know it won't be some perfect path of sunshine and rainbows, I know I'll get through whatever tough times I run into.

I've thrown myself into my art and I've taken up music again. These two things have been my dual lifelines since I was small, and no matter how bad things get I will always have these two things that make sense and give me a safe haven away from it all.

#actuallyautistic #mental illness #suicide mention #police mention #delusions /#aba mention #narcissistic abuse #long post

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chilling-seavey · 5 years ago

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Anything But Mine (d.s.) - Chapter Fifteen

A/N hope you guys are staying sane out there 🥰

Saturday, November 30th, 2019

Florence couldn’t have felt worse. The midday sun burned through the open curtains and she covered her face with her hands to try and block it out. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, looking around the room she was in, blinking slowly. Daniel’s familiar blue bedsheets were pooled at her waist and she sat there alone. Frowning in confusion, she stretched her arms above her head before dropping them quickly to her lap and shuffled to the side of the bed, tossing her legs over. Daniel was asleep on the floor, curled up in a fetal position under a single blanket.

Florence couldn’t hold back her eye-roll at merely the sight of him, stepping over his sleeping figure.

The mirror leaning against the wall was where she went, taking in her smudged makeup and knotted hair. She wore a long black t-shirt and sweatpants with a NASA logo on the thigh which meant it was clearly Corbyn’s. Taking one last look at Daniel asleep on the floor, she tiptoed down the hallway. She didn’t know where Emilio was but thankfully her first guess was correct as she peeked into Jonah’s room to see him asleep. She smiled at the peaceful sight of him and crawled up next to him. Her shifting woke him.

“I feel like shit.” he mumbled, rolling onto his back and ran a hand through his tangled hair.

“Me too.” Florence sighed. “Where’s Jonah?”

“He went home with a girl.” Emilio said. “You don’t remember?”

“I don’t remember anything from last night.” Florence chuckled, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “I’m just so sore.”

The sound of dishes clanging came from downstairs and the two made their way down. Jonah was stood in the kitchen making coffee, and from left to right, Zach, Jack, and Aidan at the island with steaming mugs of coffee sat in front of them. Zach had his head buried in his arms on the counter top. The other two looked half dead, staring at the wall or the floor.

“Good morning.” Jonah smiled to the newly arrived two.

“You’re happy, considering.” Florence mumbled, walking over to the forming group. Emilio sat at the final stool and pulled Florence into his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Already took medicine and had two cups of coffee on my way back here.” Jonah shrugged. “Figured I’d care for my little family of hungover idiots.”

Aidan raised his middle finger to him.

“You disappeared thirty minutes in.” Jack stated, eyeing Jonah with inquisitive brown eyes.

“I don’t kiss and tell if that’s what you’re asking.” Jonah smirked. “But there will be more of her around if things keep going the way I think they are.”

“I don’t care.” Zach whined into his arms. “Just shut up.”

“First hangover is always the worst.” Corbyn said, joining them downstairs, freshly showered. He set a hand on Zach’s shoulder at the far end of the island from Florence and Emilio.

“Drink your coffee.” Jonah encouraged.

“Coffee is shit.” Zach mumbled.

“It helps though.” Aidan added.

“Or I can make you a smoothie that we drink in Spain to cure hangovers.” Emilio piped up. “I would just need to go to the store to buy raw cows liver.”

The fear in Zach’s eyes made the mug instantly touch his lips and he took a long sip.

“Really?” Florence whispered to Emilio. The boy chuckled and shook his head.

“I wonder how Daniel is.” Corbyn said, thanking Jonah quietly as he was passed a mug. “Poor guy threw up everything in his entire body last night.”

“Yeah, and got us kicked out at fucking 12:30.” Jack rolled his eyes.

“Good thing.” Zach said into his mug. “If I drank anymore I might not have woken up.”

Florence leaned into Emilio and he pressed a kiss to her cheek. Corbyn let his glance linger on them longer than normal. They didn’t notice.

The stairs creaked as Daniel trudged his way to the main floor, rubbing his tired eyes with his fist. His hair was matted down under the hood of the sweater he wore and dark circles were formed under his puffy eyes, a very light scruff lined his jaw.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Jonah smiled.

Daniel merely groaned and slouched over the end of the island next to Corbyn, burying his head in his arms.

“Feeling any better?” Corbyn asked, rubbing his hand up and down his best friend’s back.

“Don’t.” Daniel whispered, his voice scratchy, pushing Corbyn away as he stood up. He bent backwards a little, his spine cracking. The room cringed. “I slept on the freaking floor last night.”

“Why?” Jack snorted.

Florence’s eyebrows furrowed momentarily. Wouldn’t they know that she claimed his bed?

“I don’t know.” Daniel blurted out before quickly pressing a hand to his mouth.

“If you throw up on the floor, you’re cleaning it up yourself.” Aidan said. Daniel leaned his hands on the counter and hung his head, breathing slowly and deeply.

“You do not look good.” Zach stated.

Daniel shook his head without looking up.

“Coffee for your headache?” Jonah offered, pushing the mug into his line of vision.

One sniff sent Daniel running for the sink behind him. The group groaned in disgust as he threw up yet again.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Jonah mumbled.

“What the hell did you drink last night?” Jack asked him as Jonah shoved a cup of water into Daniel’s trembling hand.

“Zach made me take too many shots with him.” Daniel rasped, taking a sip of the cool water.

“Oh wow, okay.” Zach rolled his eyes. “You don’t see me puking my guts out.”

“People react differently to alcohol.” Corbyn said.

“Lightweight.” Jack coughed into his mug. Aidan chuckled from beside him. Daniel frowned at them over the rim of his cup.

Florence had been drawing lazy patterns on the granite countertop since Daniel had gotten downstairs, avoiding looking at him at all costs. Daniel was same in that sense, perfecting the art of pretending Florence simply didn’t exist. He blended into the background with his glass of water and wished himself to be far away from them.

“Woah, wait.”

Jonah’s hands on him made Daniel startle, his tired eyes opening. The neckline of his black t-shirt was pulled down, revealing a deep purple bruise on his neck. Emilio whistled.

“Oh, shit!” Jack laughed, smacking his hand to his mouth.

“When did that happen?!” Zach gaped.

“Well I never thought I would see this in my lifetime.” Aidan chuckled through a smirk.

Florence stared at the hickey on Daniel’s neck, a strange feeling erupting in her stomach. Jealousy? It couldn’t be. He was her best friend. Was. Was her best friend. That’s it. They were no less than strangers now and what Daniel did or didn’t do was none of her business.

“What?” Daniel frowned, smacking Jonah’s hand away and walked off to the bathroom to look at what they were yelling about. One look in the mirror and Daniel squeaked, pulling his shirt up higher to cover it. Most of the group laughed.

“Who’s the lucky lady?” Emilio asked, his arm draped around Florence’s shoulders.

“I-I don’t know-“ Daniel stammered. “I can’t remember anything from last night. Not after my fourth shot with Zach. It all gets...weird.” he pressed his hand to his head.

“All I remember from last night is...” Zach paused to think. “I can’t even remember. Nothing. I can’t remember anything either.”

“Well look how the world is coming together: Jonah has a girl who he seems actually serious about, Saint Daniel got at least to first base, baby Zach got lit, and we had a VIP room last night.” Aidan put his hands up in joy. “How fucking weird!”

“And Florence and Daniel are talking again!” Emilio added with an innocent smile.

The room fell into a tense silence. Daniel and Florence looked in opposite directions. Emilio’s smile faltered at the lack of response to his statement.

“What makes you say that?” Jonah whispered as if the subjects of the conversation weren’t standing right there.

“They were sitting in the room alone together yesterday. Obviously talking and being civil.” Emilio explained.

Florence and Daniel both frowned at this statement. Neither remembered ever being close to each other the night before. Corbyn cleared his throat awkwardly, breaking the silence.

“We most definitely weren’t.” Daniel finally spoke, his rough voice shaking with emotion. He then turned to the stairs and ran up them. Corbyn followed him quickly.

“Fuck.” Florence sighed, running her hand through her hair.

“Sorry. I-I didn’t think it was a problem.” Emilio mumbled, more to Florence than anyone else.

“It’s fine. I just...I mean maybe we were talking or whatever last night but...I don’t remember it. Clearly he doesn’t either.” Florence shrugged. The group around her stayed quiet, looking at the ground. “Lets just drop it.” Florence said.

Corbyn followed Daniel into his room, sticking his arm in the door before it could slam. Daniel plopped down on the side of his bed, holding his face in his hands. Corbyn closed the door quietly behind them and sat next to him.

“Why’d you have to invite her?” Daniel mumbled.

“I’m sorry, man. I didn’t do it to spite you.” Corbyn sighed. “She’s my friend too and I know that she needs some time to be a teenager herself. I thought I was just being nice.”

“She’s not your friend. She was my friend. Was. And now she’s still coming around here and you’re hugging her and being all playful and happy. You guys - you and Jack and Zach and Aidan and Jonah - are my friends and she doesn’t have the right anymore to come around here! I told her to go away.”

“You don’t mean that.” Corbyn spoke slowly.

“Yes I do!” Daniel said strongly, looking over to meet Corbyn’s concerned gaze.

“You love her, Daniel.”

“Maybe I did. I did but I can’t anymore. She has Emilio and he’s a freaking perfect Spanish prince.”

Corbyn didn’t laugh even when Daniel chuckled at his own ridiculousness.

“You may think that you are better to keep your distance but I don’t think that. I know that it’s only going to make things worse.”

“No it won’t. Emilio is really good for her. He can do things for her that I can’t.” Daniel assured more himself than anyone.

“Like what?” Corbyn continued before it could be answered, “You’ve been there for her more than anyone has. You’re the only one who can calm her down when she’s freaking out. You were there for her through her ex’s flaky and borderline abusive shit. You basically helped her birth her child.”

“I only went to the Lamaze classes.” Daniel mumbled. “I was in Vancouver for the birth.”

“I don’t give a shit, Dan!” Corbyn said strongly. “What kind of 18 year old boy would take his pregnant friend to a birthing class?! Multiple times?!”

Daniel sniffled, staring at the ground.

“Daniel, you two have this super weird and unique and unbreakable connection and no matter how much space you put between you, nothing changes.”

“It’s already changing.” Daniel whispered.

“It’s not.” Corbyn scoffed. “You don’t remember anything from last night but, holy shit, Daniel, I saw the way she way she kissed you.”

The words floated in the air between them, soaking in slowly to the disbelieving boy next to him. Daniel’s eyes widened and he looked over at his friend again.

“When she saw you behind her, it was like this...this visible weight was lifted from her shoulders. You can try to put distance between you all you want but you can’t say that you don’t have a connection anymore,” Corbyn pressed his finger lightly to the dark bruise on his neck, “because you clearly do.”

Daniel rested his hand against his neck, trying to process this information. “But Emilio said we were only-“

“I don’t know what he saw upstairs but I know what I saw on the dance floor: and there was no talking going on.” Corbyn chuckled.

Daniel sighed deeply, running both hands through his hair.

“And maybe this is just my opinion...but I don’t think you were coincidentally sleeping on the floor. You were in your bed when I left you there and these creaky floorboards are hard to miss. Mysterious footsteps don’t just come around for one night. Plus, there were other-” Corbyn said.

“What are you implying?” Daniel asked sharply, his voice in a whisper.

“I’m just saying. I think-“

“That I lost my damn virginity and don’t remember it?”

“Wait you’re-“

“Shut up.” Daniel’s cheeks went red and he looked to the carpet.

“I’m not laughing at you, Dan. I’m just worried about you.”

Daniel swore quietly under his breath and held his face in his hands, “This is a mess.”

“And what are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing.” Daniel said. “What can I do? She doesn’t remember it - hell, I don’t either. I don’t need things to be more complicated than they already are. Let’s just not bring it up again.”

“You can’t just let this go-“

“I have to.” Daniel said sharply. “I can’t just bring this up to her with no proof. No, it’s too far gone. It’s over and done with and there’s nothing else to do.”

Corbyn’s gaze lingered on his upset friend for a moment before he merely nodded. “Alright. If that’s what you want to do.”

“Yeah.” Daniel pressed his fingers to his temples. “All this is making my headache worse.”

“Why don’t you get into bed and I’ll bring you some Advil and you can rest?” Corbyn offered quietly. Daniel didn’t even need to nod as he gladly laid down on the side of his bed, his blue eyes staring at the wall across from him. Corbyn stood up and tucked the sheets around him before fetching the promised medicine and a glass of water.

Without another word, Daniel was left alone, the only light in the room coming through the small crack in the curtains. In the near dark, Daniel stayed perfectly still, his mind reeling at the information he was just told. It made his brain hurt, as he tried his best to remember all he could from the night before. Exhausted and frustrated, he pulled the duvet over his head.

They smelt of her; her floral perfume she always wore but paired with a scent the overall innocent boy couldn’t place. It took a few seconds for the realization to set in and when it did, Daniel tossed the blankets off himself and sat up. It was like he could feel it again, his hands on her warm skin, how his heart beat fast in his chest, the sound of his name falling from her lips. Daniel shuttered at the whole idea, shame washing over him. He could still only remember broken pieces of their night but the fact that Florence didn’t remember any of it made guilt bubble up in his stomach. The guilt from the night before was futile as it wasn’t his fault that she didn’t remember anything but it was mixed dangerously with the guilt of ending their friendship; the action that made this situation so much more complicated.

Daniel quickly swallowed the Advil that was left on his night table before reaching over to set the water glass back down. His eyes caught on something between his bed frame and the small table and he reached to grab it. The black lace underwear that was held by his two fingers made him literally groan, disheartened. This was proof he didn’t need.

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ao3bronte · 5 years ago

Photo

“Ladybug is so going to kill me,” Chat Noir mutters as he nudges the kickstand and pulls a Honda 600F4i out into the narrow alley. She’s bright green and exactly the kind of thing he’s had dreams about ever since he started playing racing games as a little boy. He loves the distinctive purr of a Ferrari, don’t get him wrong, but a motorbike?

Jamming the key into the ignition, Chat turns it clockwise and frowns when it doesn’t quite kick to life. The engine chugs a little before dying and Chat realises that he may be a racing game enthusiast, but the virtual world has never required him to turn the damn thing on!

At a loss, Chat Noir stares down at the controls and tries not to panic, “How do I start this thing?”

He begins hearing the voices of akumatised citizens echo off the brick walls of the alley and he hops back off the bike to get another good look. There’s a gearshift near his foot and he fiddles with it, watching the gears turn, “I should probably put it into neutral? Maybe?” Chat mounts the bike again and flicks it into neutral with his boot, “And brakes. Definitely brakes.”

That part is easy enough. He assumes they’re on the right hand side and his suspicions are more or less confirmed by the click he hears come from in front of his seat, “And I don’t have the slightest clue what this is for, but maybe I should press it too.”

It’s the clutch of course, as he soon comes to realise once he flicks the on switch again and revs the throttle. The bike roars to life and a burst of adrenaline blooms in his belly at the sound, goose pimples breaking out along the exposed skin of his neck. He’s always wanted to drive a motorbike but the video games pale in comparison to having the real thing underneath of him, the engine’s deep rumble as addictive as Chat’s indomitable need for speed. He’s always been an adrenaline junkie and here was his chance to try it out in the worst of conditions with lives on the line.

He revs the throttle again and releases the brake.

“WOOOO!” Chat takes off like a literal bullet and narrowly misses a lamppost as he yanks the handlebars to the side, dipping so low he nearly scrapes his knee on the asphalt. He rights himself but only barely, steering around a burning car and drifting out into the boulevard. The roar of the motorbike draws the attention of the mob and Chat skids to a stop, planting his steel-clad boot on the ground and letting the bike spin around parabolically, turning him in the opposite direction.

Trap: laid.

Without looking back, Chat lays on the bike’s throttle and accelerates down the road, driving in and out of the path of abandoned cars and shrapnel blocking the streets. His distraction is working and he careens through the side streets of the neighbouring arrondissements in the hopes that they’ll follow his lead and head over to the Champs de Mars where Ladybug is no doubt waiting for the rest of them to draw the crowd. Swerving through a roundabout, Chat angles his hip and practically grinds off his kneecap to keep his balance, speeding through the throngs of people and leading them westbound as fast as he can go.

He’s flying at 60km/h over sidewalks and islands when he glances back behind him, spotting four or five motorbikes making chase. A BMW sneaks in just ahead of them and Chat tugs on the throttle and prays to every deity he can think of for some divine intervention as he careens up a median and catches air over a métro station sign. He continues to head across the avenue and pulls out in front of another sportscar, immediately drawing its fire. Chat ducks between an abandoned cube van and slams on the breaks, waiting for the vehicle to fly ahead of him before revving his throttle and hightail it down an adjacent street.

Scramming south towards le Parthéon , Chat squeals through a one way alley and emerges onto another boulevard, narrowly avoiding a group of robbers counting their riches near a rubbish dumpster. They quickly join the chase and Chat skids, clasping the clutch and shifting gears. He can hear the motorbikes catching up behind him and with nowhere else to run, he blasts down the winding Rue de la Montagne Saint Geneviève until he’s cut off by a transport van intentionally blocking his path west on Rue Cujas . He’s trapped like a rat in a cage and Chat swallows, closes his eyes and hopes that whatever happens to him in this moment, Ladybug’s cure can put him back together again.

Without slowing, Chat drops to the side of his motorbike and lets it fly out from under him, cranking it leftwards and letting it slide in front. He hits the concrete hard and drifts underneath the van at the same velocity of his bike, covering his eyes as two of the motorbikes following him crash into the van he’d just ducked under, sending shrapnel and petrol flying everywhere.

He skids to a stop several metres away and finally opens his eyes, watching the carnage unfold for half a second before patting himself over. He’s not bleeding, nothing’s broken and miraculously, he’s still somehow intact.

His bike sits a few metres away and it’s a little scraped but looking no worse for wear and Chat climbs back on, revving the throttle and turning onto a side road towards Luxembourg . Traffic is still somehow moving, albeit barely, and Chat takes his chances, snaking through cars in the opposite direction down a one way road. He bobs and slices his way between burning police cars and grocery vans and glances through his sideview mirrors as what seems like hundreds of thousands of people make chase which is just fine and all, except the roads ahead of him are quickly beginning to fill up with people too.

Just before the intersection of Sèvres-Babylone , Chat revs and slams on the brakes at the same time, spinning his bike and creating a smoke screen all around him. It works like a charm when he’s playing Ride 3 and he thanks his lucky stars as some of his pursuers get lost in the soot so he can tear down Rue de Babylone mostly unhindered by the mob. He makes it all the way to Saint François Xavier before his tail catches up with him and Chat just barely manages to weave out of the way to avoid them by passing a truck, pulling out in front of it for cover. The red BMW that’s been on his ass since le Quartier latin veers around the truck and Chat has to narrowly pass between two incoming vehicles, nearly beheading himself on their mirrors as he clips a median and speeds through some tree laden scrub. Unable to follow him, the BMW hits a curb and flips several times, crashing into a storefront on the other side of the intersection.

“Serves him right for driving a BMW,” Chat grumbles, approaching l’École Militaire with all the speed he can manage. The Eiffel Tower is in plain sight and he can see the rest of the heroes approaching from the northern and western arrondissements with mobs of people hurling obscenities behind them and suddenly there’s nowhere for him to go, the road completely barricaded with overturned vehicles and chunks of crumbled facade.

There’s only two ways to get around it: through it, or over it.

Snatching his baton from the small of his back, Chat extends it beneath his bike and screams at the top of his lungs as he propels himself into the air and over the mountain of debris. He loses his grasp on gravity and his legs go flying up behind him and Chat just holds onto the handlebars for dear life and hopes that he lands on his wheels and not on his face in front of everyone, but especially not when there’s a mob of a million angry, magically enraged citizens ready to rip him to shreds.

The front wheel begins to turn downwards and Chat’s eyes rival the circumference of saucers as he fights to regain his balance, his body tipping ass over tit over the handlebars. He tucks his knees in on a hope and a prayer and gets his boots up near his ears to try and yank the front wheel of the bike back up so it doesn’t flip and burst into flames on landing and merdemerdemerde he’s going to die, he’s going to die, he is so going to die—

THUNK!

Chat’s bike lands so hard his teeth chatter but somehow, once again, he’s miraculously alive and still in one piece. Whooping with pure adrenaline coursing through his veins, he hollers at the trailing mob to catch up with him and tears down the Champ de Mars towards the Eiffel Tower like a bat out of hell.

Excerpt from Safeword (Masquerade-verse) by @ao3bronte Art by @yamina20-blog

#miraculous ladybug #chat noir #adrien agreste #miraculous fanfic

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ververa · 5 years ago

Text

"You are enough"

CHAPTER 11

Ronnie had always been an artistic soul. She had never had too many friends and hadn’t wanted to change it. She wasn’t the same type as her mother – who would socialise with everyone whenever the occasion arose. Ronnie was just Ronnie – she preferred such a way of living since the very beginning. But it all was connected with her childhood. She was brought up mostly by her grandmother. And Joanne, as an overprotective granny, didn’t leave her too much space for exploring the world – as kids usually do. In the woman’s eyes she was always a little and way too fragile thing that may get sick or hurt herself every time she left the house. Basically, in granny’s confidence everything from the outside could kill her. Joanne preferred to keep her preoccupied with something different, that let them stay inside, and that thing were books. A whole lot of literature – fairy tales, short stories, comic books. It was as if she were living in a completely different reality.

So, when she finally broke free it was a bit hard to accustom. She was like the odd one out. And her new school was a kind of reality check and a real challenge. Being a good and liked by every teacher student was one thing, but having a mother – that demands being the best in everything was the other. Ballet class was never Ronnie’s dream, but for Caroline it was a way to made her own dreams and ambitions to come true. It was okay for Ronnie to do what her mother wanted until things got complicated. And when they did the girl finally understood what a pain in the ass her mother was. She had nobody who could help her when she broke down. She was dealing with her own demons and post-traumatic stress disorder on her own, because for Caroline it was her who was the problem. She was carrying on for so long, that when she didn’t have to do it all – alone any more – it was really hard to stop. It was as if she had built walls around herself. And nobody tried to get in to her shell, until she met Ellie.

Caroline was that type of mother, who noticed her daughter only when she succeeded in something. But even then the woman wasn’t really there for Ronnie, but for her success. She was always boasting herself – claiming it was all thanks to her. But with Ellie it was different. The psychiatrist was with her in, probably, the worst moments. When she was suffering from major depression and broke down – Staple was there ready to help. When she made the worst of possible decisions and cut her veins – it was Ellie who pulled her out of the bath and blocked the bleeding. The psychiatrist not only saved her, but also took care of her further treatment. She didn’t let them send her to a madhouse far away – in the middle of nowhere. She took care of Ronnie n her own. And she cured her of depression, eating disorders and low self-esteem. But despite being the best psychiatrist and the greatest of possible remedies Staple couldn’t cure her from insecurities and sensitivity to criticism.

But she was a painter. Criticism was a part of her profession and she was taking it pretty well. But after painting for almost half of her life and exhibiting for 3 she was done. Ronnie felt as if she had nothing more to offer. She simply didn’t have new ideas and all her old works were already seen by everyone. It wasn’t the first time she had a block, but it lasted longer than before and Ronnie was almost sure it’s a permanent state. It felt as if she had run out of everything that was in her head previously. Though the worst was yet to come.

____________________________

Ellie was abroad when the girl decide to end her adventure with painting – at least for some time. She went to meet with her agents, even though she wasn't really convinced to it.

"You what?!" a slim blonde – Bella yelled

"I'm not going to paint"

"And why is that?" the woman rolled her eyes not taking it seriously at allowing

"I don't have anything to offer any more"

"Ronnie" a tall, black man began "You should think about it"

"I did. If I haven't thought about it I wouldn't be here. This is the end"

"Ronney. Little girl, it's not the first time you're facing such kind of block"

"Jason is right. You should go somewhere. Rest, relax. And inspiration will come, as always"

"It won't" Ronnie shook her head "I know you don't understand. And I don't expect you to do so. My works were filled with grief, anger and fear. But I don't have it inside me any more. The old Ronnie is gone. I evolved and there's nothing more that I can paint"

"Is it because of Ellie?" Bella asked

"What? No"

"In my opinion it is"

"Leave her alone. She has nothing to do with it. It's my decision"

"You do not make decisions, little girl"

"Don't call me that. I'm not a kid any more"

"If you weren't a kid you would know that it's not a decision that you can make just like that. Did you even think what consequences it may carry?"

"And if you're not so vain you would know that there's no use in continuing it. Think about the last exhibition. It was a flop, because I have nothing more to show. You wanted me to dye my hair, so I could draw attention. I did. Now, my hair is fucking pink, but it changed nothing. People do not enjoy my art any more. Get over it. I'm done painting. A real artist ought to know when it's time to get off the stage. And this is that very moment. I gave people everything that I could, but I run out of ideas and I'm not going to push myself, because you want to earn money"

"And what are you going to do?"

"I..." she hesitated

"You have nothing! Only paintings. If you leave, you're over" Bella stated "You're nobody without them!" her voice was full of venom At that Ronnie stood up. She smiled at the woman and then at Jason, who seemed to be afraid to interfere in their little argument. "You're right. I'm nobody without paintings. So, it's probably the high time I changed it" she said and left the office ____________ Ellie had been working on improving Ronnie's confidence since the very beginning. On the one hand the girl was introverted and sensitive, but on the other she was full of energy and creativity. That combination astounded Ellie. Even though it wasn't easy, after those 3 years that passed, she managed to unblock the girl. However, there were still those moments when Ronnie got insecure and that's heartbreaking.

“Maybe I was never meant to be a painter” the girl implied as she was talking with Ellie on Skype

“Nonsense. You’re a great painter and you created a lot of wonderful works. It’ll always be a part of you, but if you don’t feel like painting any more you don’t have to”

“Bella sent me an e-mail what consequences my quitting will have”

“Which are?”

“If I terminate a contract I’ll have to pay quite a lot of money”

“This is a typical ploy”

“I know, but…”

“Look, our finance is stable. You don’t need to worry about the money. You can do it”

“And I’ll just sit at home and be your dependent? I don’t think so”

“I knew you’re going to bring it up again” Ellie shook her head “We’ll talk about it, when I come back. By the way, you remember that you’re going to the symposium with me?”

Ronnie did remember. It was going to be another dull meeting during which she would not talk with anyone, cause she’s just not like them. She didn’t like going there, but was doing it for Ellie. However, the girl failed to understand why the hell the psychiatrist wanted her to be there.

“I do, but maybe you should go there alone?”

“Why?”

“You know, those hair...”

“It’s not that bad”

“Red. My hair is fucking red. And ‘bad’ doesn’t describe it any more”

“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s only hair after all”

“El, I look like a forest fairy”

The psychiatrist burst into laughter

“Yeah. Sure. Laugh at me” Ronnie huffed

“You look stunning. I would say fairy-like” she chuckled

“It’s not funny”

“You sure? Cause I think it is”

Ronnie rolled her eyes

“I’m serious you look good. Nobody will care. And even if they do, I’ll be right there and nobody will dare to say anything”

“Ellie the bad-ass?” Ronnie laughed

“No bad-ass. Just the boss” she shrugged smirking

“Being in charge is definitely your thing” the girl stated

“I suppose it is. So, I hope you’ll be here tomorrow”

“You say it as if I had a choice”

“You do have a choice”

“You’re going to give a speech and you promised to show me what a bad-ass you can be. How can I miss such a promising event?”

_____________________________

The symposium was supposed to be the ending of the one of many business trips – on which Ellie was. She was obviously the best psychiatrist and so she was asked to discuss the topic of delusion of grandeur – in which she was an expert.

It definitely wasn’t the first time she had to make such a speech, though she didn’t really like it. After all, instead of doing it, she could focus on her work or spend some time at home with Ronnie.

That’s probably one of the reasons why she wanted the girl to be there. The second was that she hated all that fancy parties – or more precisely the people there. And being there with Ronnie she could avoid some dull and not desired talks.

Work and education had always be the Most important things for her. She worked hard to succeed and had never even thought thought that some day it wouldn’t matter that much. But there she was – in her hotel room waiting with anticipation not for the symposium – as she used to do – but for Ronnie to arrive.

Though, the girl’s flight was delayed. Due to that fact they’re supposed to meet at the symposium. Ronnie hated such situations. In the aspect of having things under control they were both similar – everything had to be planned and go according to the plan. In other circumstances they’re pissed off. And so, as Ronnie finally arrived she was, basically, on the edge. Her patience and inner peace were already overexerted, so when things complicated even more she exploded.

“I’m sorry” a slim brunette dressed in some elegant clothes came to her

“Yes?” the girl tried to sound polite despite being nervous

“Not to be rude, but I think you may have mistook the places” she affirmed

“I’m afraid I don’t understand”

“You don’t look like someone with a doctor’s degree”

Ronnie frowned and took a few steps back. Then she took a deep breath, cause internally she had already punched the woman right in her face.

“Not to be rude, but shouldn’t you mind your own business?” she responded calmly

“I’m only saying that’s a fancy place and the meeting is for the doctors with degree in psychiatry”

“I’m not going to prove you my point. Neither do I intend to duel with you, as I don’t have a habit of attacking defenceless” with that Ronnie turned back only to face her girlfriend

Ellie was standing there with her arms crossed.

“Doctor Staple” the woman began pleadingly “I was just trying to explain that this meeting requires some standards and it’s not the right place for her”

Ronnie wasn’t sure what to do – whether she ought to say anything more and simply put the woman in her place or not. Ellie’s face remained unreadable. She glanced at the woman, then back at Ronnie.

“Indeed, Miss Levine, this meeting, place and in general work requires some certain standards and abilities that you’re apparently lacking” the psychiatrist attested dryly

Ronnie’s eyes widened. She looked at Ellie surprised – she definitely hadn’t expected her to act like that

“Well, miss” she addressed Ronnie “I bet your place may be already taken, as you’re late, so I’m afraid you’ll have to sit down next to me”

The girl smiled at Ellie’s professional tone

“I bet I’ll have to make do with it”

“I suppose” Ellie’s smile came back as Ronnie came closer to her “So, how was your flight, baby?” she asked loud enough for Miss Levine to hear

The woman’s eyes widened as she learnt with whom she was just talking. And it only made Ronnie laugh at how ridiculous and stupid people could be sometimes.

“I didn’t know you can be that bossy” the girl chuckled as they entered the building

“Do you think I overreacted?”

“No. It was… well, it was funny” she laughed “For me at least. Cause the poor woman was probably at the edge of having a heart attack”

“It’s only her fault. Nobody gets to mess with my girlfriend. Definitely, not someone with inflated ego, that’s not really compatible with their intellect”

Ronnie smiled fondly looking at the psychiatrist. They’re together for a few years, but it still amazed her how protective and combative Ellie became when it’s coming to defending her. But she could act the same and when it was about standing up for Staple, Ronnie didn’t shy away from resorting to violence, which she proved on a few occasions. In the girl’s case it was rather reasoned – since she cut herself off from her mother she had nobody, but Ellie. However, even though Staple did have a loving family none of them could compare to Ronnie. She was the best that had ever happened to Ellie and it was a natural instinct – to protect what was the most precious to her. And Ronnie became, literally, the world to her.

Even during her speech, the woman wasn’t looking at anybody, but the girl. And at one point she needed to take a break, cause when her eyes met Ronnie’s she got too distracted to continue.

“Will you tell me what’s your secret?” the girl beamed when Ellie came back to her seat right next to her

“My secret?”

“Yeah. How do you know that much?”

“I don’t” she smiled

“You do. That was great. Really. You did great”

“Thank you”

“By the way, do you feel like going for a walk later? I’ve something to tell you”

Ellie looked at her questioningly

“Actually, I feel like going for a walk now” the psychiatrist said

“But it’s not the end yet…”

“So what?”

“I thought you want to stay till the end…”

“I intended to, but now I’m way too curious what you’re going to tell me”

Ronnie only shook her head chuckling, as Ellie led her to the exit.

“So? What is it?” the psychiatrist asked when they were outside

“Well, I decided that I’m going to go back to the university”

Ellie stopped and looked at the girl. She wasn’t surprised – they simply didn’t discuss how Ronnie had to take a break form the university, because of the treatment and then didn’t continue.

“What? You think it’s a bad idea?” Ronnie asked

“No. This is a great idea. I mean as long as you want it I’m going to support you”

“I don’t know yet. I would like to do something that may affect people’s life. Though there’s nothing I’m good at, so it may be hard to find something suitable. But I can always try”

“Nonsense. You’re good at everything”

“Yeah. Sure. But still there’s no studies for me”

“Did you think about psychology?”

“Psychology?”

“Yes. You would be a good psychologist. You’re a good listener and people tend to trust you”

“I… Well, do you think I can?”

“Of course, you can. It’s all up to you”

“O-okay”

“You know?”

“Yes?”

“I’m so fucking proud of you” she cupped Ronnie’s cheeks

“Because I’m going to study?”

“No! Because you’re a fighter. You defeated your insecurities and put that stupid bitch in her place”

“Well, I guess I have a good master”

At that Ellie smiled fondly and leaned in to kiss the girl.

#dr ellie staple #ellie staple #my own character #sarah paulson imagine #glass #my ideas #hope you like it #enjoy #<3

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