#because the anniversaries of a bunch of different traumas are coming up | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yongtxt · 5 years ago

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turn back time [taeyong]

word count: 6.2k words

characters: amnesiac!taeyong x girlfriend!reader ft. doyoung

genre: angst [meant to be just melancholic so no crying !]

warnings: few mentions of a car crash and some wounds. taeyong suffers from amnesia. it’s a couple trying to learn how to love again.

author’s note: yesterday was my first year anniversary here on tumblr and i give you a short angst fic of the first nct member i wrote for as a present. anyway. i need a break from angst after this also i need to stop writing people getting hurt/wounded???? [stream turn back time by wayv later <3] / unedited

Taeyong awoke to harsh fluorescent lighting filling his vision, a throat so dry it could compare to a desert, and the muffled cries of his lover.

His arms ached, muscles extremely sore that it hurt him to even lift his limb. He wanted to reach out to you, to run his fingers through your hair, and to tell you that everything was gonna be okay—he would work it out with you, together.

You had Taeyong’s hospital gown clutched in your hands, soaking the fabric with your weeping. WIth your face buried into his blanket, it took you a second to realize that your boyfriend had already woken up from his deep slumber. Your cheeks flushed at his intense gaze, dropping your hold on him almost immediately as if it was hot to touch.

“You’re awake!” You exclaimed, voice cracking. Fumbling to wipe your tears, you scrambled to your feet. “Let me grab some food, okay? You must be hungry.”

Taeyong did his best to shake his head, “No, you don’t have to. Please just stay beside me.”

A beat passed and you could only stare at him. The hesitance you exuded didn’t pass unnoticed, you sat back on the stool beside him and stayed tight-lipped. Taeyong sighed through his nose, a bubble of nervousness growing in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t even look you in the eye, his attention darting everywhere but to you.

“How are you feeling? Do you think you can move better now?” You asked, soft and wary—afraid of what his response would be and he didn’t like the sound of it not one bit, but he didn’t let it show.

“I can move my head better than yesterday.” Taeyong pointed out, craning his neck enough to prove it to you. You couldn’t help the smile on your face and his chest floods with an unfamiliar warmth. He added, “My joints just hurt since I’m kept on bed rest all day.”

“Well, you’re getting released tomorrow.” You said, subconsciously outstretching your hand to brush off the fallen lock of his hair from his forehead. He blushed at the contact of your fingertips and you immediately retracted it back. “Uh, your doctor wanted me to tell you that you should start walking around again if you can to avoid using crutches.”

“I’ll try to go for a walk tonight.” He nodded his head, staring at his lap as if it was the most fascinating thing in the room. “Can you help me drink some water?”

“I’m sorry, of course.” Your cheeks reddened the same way his were, fumbling to punch in a straw inside a bottle of water as you propped it up for him to sip on. Of course he was thirsty, he had been asleep for almost half the day.

Your fingers were trembling, he noticed. Before he could point it out, the door slammed open and you were forced to draw away his drink. You haven’t been told of anyone visiting so it came as a surprise to see your boyfriend’s childhood best friend panting in the doorway, holding himself up on the frame while he gawked at Taeyong’s wounded form.

Bruises of varying sizes littered across Taeyong’s pale skin and a bandage was wrapped around his forehead, his bleached hair peeking out from the bloodied cloth. A large gash can be seen trailing along his jawline and although it had been healing nicely, a mark remained. He had dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks were sunken from fatigue and a lack of nutritional intake, much like you.

He didn’t look well, Doyoung thought with a pitiful gaze Taeyong was already too familiar with.

“Aren’t you gonna come in?” Taeyong chuckled, grinning at Doyoung who frowned at him. He rushed to his side and mindlessly took him into an embrace, cradling his bandaged head into his shoulder. You felt hot tears pool into the corners of your eyes but you blinked them away before they could see.

He berated him, the way he always would when Taeyong got himself into trouble that could’ve been easily avoided if he would just think straight. The blizzard, Doyoung kept bringing it up, he shouldn’t have driven when the weather was too dangerous.

“I’ll try to remember that next time.” Taeyong said, reassuring him before Doyoung could burst into tears. He wouldn’t know how to handle him if he got too emotional, he doubted you’d be able to.

“Why were you driving, anyway? What was so important that you had to risk your life to travel?” Doyoung huffed and you rose from your seat from instinct, about to insert yourself into their conversation when Taeyong grasped your fingers.

You stared at him and you were suddenly reminded that he must’ve put himself in pain to stop you. You sat back down and he smiled, he wanted to say it himself and you could only respect his wishes. You hadn’t been able to inform Taeyong’s friends about his car crash as it had been only a week since it happened, all of your time was spent tirelessly tending him back to health. You didn’t have the time to share the unfortunate news.

“Apparently, I was on my way back to Seoul from visiting my family.” Taeyong said, gently grazing your skin away from his best friend’s sight. At Doyoung's confused knot on his forehead, he continued, “My mom told me that they couldn’t make me stay because it was the night of my anniversary with my girlfriend.”

“Taeyong, why are you talking like that—”

“The doctor said I hit my head on the steering wheel pretty badly.” Taeyong laughed mirthlessly, and you subconsciously squeezed his hand. “Bad enough that my memory got a bit fuzzy. Retrograde amnesia, I think that’s what they called it.”

Doyoung blinked, lips gaped at Taeyong who only smiled at him. He looked up at you, a sudden onslaught of anxiety coursing through him that you could just see him almost shake in worry. He whispered to you, “Amnesia? How far back can he remember?”

You bit your lip, turning away and loosening the grip you had on Taeyong’s hand, but he held it tighter with a strength you were sure he was only forcing. You said, “The beginning of third year in college.”

“What?!” Doyoung choked on his spit, leaping from his seat in shock. You offered him an unopened bottle of water but he shook his head. “You’re already a working man, Taeyong! We graduated two years ago, man!”

You did your best to calm Doyoung down, much to Taeyong’s appreciation. You knew where his emotions were coming from so you had to explain why it happened in a manner he would understand. You said that the blizzard was so strong that the roads had iced up and due to the speed he was driving, the car had slipped and crashed into a tree. He hit his head and the sheer impact caused trauma to his brain and made him lose his memories.

The doctors diagnosed him with retrograde amnesia, a form of memory loss that occurs from a traumatic brain injury. It prevented Taeyong from remembering what happened prior to his accident. His recovery was supposed to be gradual, it will take time for him to regain the memories he had lost but it wasn’t assured.

Taeyong doesn’t like telling what happened because people’s first reaction to his amnesia was to resort to aggression. As if their anger and frustration could magically make him remember what he had lost. You didn’t think of it that way, on one quiet night you told him that maybe it was just their desperation to bring him back to the person he was.

He thought it was selfish of them, but you kept your lips shut and refused to tell him that losing two years was a big deal to some people. Although he was still himself, quirks and habits are the same as you’ve first witnessed them, little aspects of him were different; some just different enough that others would do a doubletake to make sure it was really him. The person he is now just wasn’t exactly the person he used to be.

A slightly-off Taeyong, he grimly made a joke about.

You wanted to reassure him, comfort him that he didn’t need to try so hard to be who he used to be. You know despite all of his nonchalance and soft smiles, he was hurting. He instilled it in himself that he disappointed his loved ones by being a person they weren’t accustomed to. But you couldn’t, you weren’t in the place to when his last memories of you were when you have only first met during the anthropology class in your third year of college.

“God, that means you can’t even remember your own girlfriend.” Doyoung mumbled, mostly to himself but you heard it clearly enough as if he personally made it a point to stomp on your heart. Taeyong frowned.

“Shut it, Doyoung.” You grumbled, tears threatening to spill again. You and Taeyong have been so emotionally exhausted that having another person in the hospital room usually would lift both of your spirits, but Doyoung proved himself to be a disturbance instead.

Hours were spent lounging around with Doyoung talking Taeyong’s ears off with stories that he had missed in the past two years, how he was the one who had forced him into the class he shared with you and how coerced him into asking you out before he graduated; a bunch of stories that it almost made Taeyong wish that everything could just go back to the way it was.

He wasn’t the Taeyong they speak so fondly off, he was merely just the shell of him. Still, Doyoung had brought out a smile that you had been unable to make and for that, Taeyong gave him his thanks. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and sniffled.

Doyoung left not too long after, but he promised to visit soon. He knew you needed the support. You were left alone with your boyfriend again and the silence envelops you whole. When you excused yourself to grab a much-needed coffee, Taeyong sank to the hospital bed and succumbed to his tears.

This was his last night in the hospital and it had felt like the longest. He was out like a light but you stilled in your chair beside his bed, fumbling with the ends of his blanket in worry of tomorrow. Not much had progressed in your relationship with him. He was still embarrassed, timid in how he acted around you. You asked if he wanted to go home with you and he reassured you that he would be fine with it, but the panic you felt was still prominent.

Morning came and after what seemed like hours of finishing what was left of Taeyong’s documents in the hospital, it was time to finally leave. You hailed a taxi and you couldn’t help but notice your boyfriend’s sudden rigidness inside the vehicle. Swallowing your reluctance, you took his hand and forced his attention on you throughout the entire drive. He was thankful that you were able to distract him.

The apartment you shared with Taeyong was small but humble, the third unit in an old building that you swore was built in an era before the current. Thin walls and a poorly constructed floor, it was all both of you could afford when you’ve decided to move in together fresh out of college. Despite its imperfections, it was home as long as you had him with you.

With the creaky sounds your front door made, you heard the familiar sound of soft thudding of feet run across the wooden floors to welcome your arrival. Your heart leaped at the sight of Lala, the three-year-old Labrador you adopted with Taeyong, bolting towards your direction with her tongue sticking out.

Taeyong trailed behind you, drinking the place in. His gaze kept on darting from one place to another, his lips parted in amazement at the thought that he really had the courage to move out of his parents’ house to live with his girlfriend. It looked lived in, bits of his and your personalities showing in the way it was decorated and cluttered. The clashing of color schemes and wood tones almost made him want to laugh over how it was clearly furnished purely on indecision and compromise.

He was too busy familiarizing himself to notice that Lala had jumped on him. Your heart squeezed at the sight.

You crouched down to your knees, reaching over to scratch the back of Lala’s ear. You chuckled at Taeyong’s confusion on how to approach the hyperactive puppy, “Her name is Lala, she’s three years old. We adopted her on your birthday last year.”

Taeyong nodded with widened eyes, getting down to your level to attempt to pet her. He commented offhandedly, “Good girl, Lala.”

“She definitely prefers you over me, too.” You mumbled, watching Lala cave into Taeyong’s touch. She hadn’t seen him in a while so you wondered if her attachment to him would waver but it seemed to only grow stronger, the same way you were with your boyfriend. “I had my friend take care of her while we were gone.”

Taeyong kept his quiet and you swallowed the lump in your throat. His doctor told you to treat him especially kindly since he was in a vulnerable state, but you should instill a sense of normalcy. You were instructed to treat him as you normally would, he needed to be reminded of the lifestyle he used to have little by little.

The idea of having to consume copious amounts of medicines every day was already exhausting and gruesome, he even had the bandage around his head to deal with. He had a lot on his plate, you wouldn’t dare add to it by pressuring him to become the adult he doesn’t remember that he was. In his mind, he was still twenty years old and was living in a rickety dorm with Doyoung; it will surely take time for him to grow out of it.

You told Taeyong to go sit down on the stool across the island, to make himself comfortable while you prepared dinner—attempt to prepare dinner. Racking all the recipes his mother had taught you over the years, you wanted to cook a meal he would enjoy and reminisce over.

“Doyoung told me you didn’t like cooking very much.” You heard Taeyong’s voice said, a voice free of malice and full of genuine interest. He said, “It makes sense that I should be the one making food for us right now. You know, for all the trouble I’ve caused you the past week.”

You shook your head firmly, turning around so your back faced him. You didn’t want to let him see your ever-growing frown. You sighed, “Don’t worry, I can handle this. Do you want some coffee?”

“Yeah, sure.” He mumbled, pressing his cheek against the palm of his hand. He wished he could do more for you, but you weren’t letting him; you had your wall up as high as he had his.

Shuffling to where your coffee maker was, you quickly fixed a cup of coffee for him as if you moved purely on instinct. Taeyong watched you in amusement as you slid a blue mug to his way. The paint of its design was chipping off the edges and it had a small crack on the handle, it definitely had seen better days but he felt oddly drawn to it.

You saw him eyeing it out and you chuckled, “We went out on a pottery class for a date once and I made that mug for you. You refused to drink coffee without it, but I think it’s time for us to throw it out and buy you a better one.”

“No!” Taeyong interjected almost immediately, waving his hands to dismiss your idea. “I like it. We’re keeping it.”

Your chest ached, but you were unable to pinpoint the feeling that made it so, “If you say so.”

Taeyong was a picky man when it came to his coffee. He wasn’t an avid drinker of dark and rich brews, often preferred the sweeter and creamier side of the spectrum. The drink you made for him tasted just right, the perfect balance, and he was overwhelmed with gratitude. It made him laugh, how his taste in college didn’t seem to change in his twenty-three-year-old body.

“You can go look around while I cook.” You remarked, jutting your chin towards the rest of the apartment that he has yet to see as you run your hands under the running water. He followed your gaze and shook his head. You quirk an eyebrow, “You sure? It’ll take a bit before these noodles cook.”

Lala encircled his feet before cozying herself on top of his shoes, refusing to leave his sight. He laughed, bending down to pick her up and place her onto his lap. With his hands deep into the puppy’s golden fur, he asked, “Is Lala supposed to be a reference to the Teletubbies?”

You turned the stove on and plopped in the boxed pasta you retrieved from the pantry, “Your nephew loved the Teletubbies at some point so we made him name her.”

A visible twinkle appeared in Taeyong’s eye at the mention of his nephew. He’d only seen photos of him recently, the last he remembered of him was that he was only an infant cradled in his sister’s arms. And as if a barrier was put down, he asked if you could tell him more about what he had missed in his personal life. If Taeyong from the past trusted you enough to move in and adopt a dog together⁠—which he couldn’t believe he was able to do in college, he had to trust you, too.

You gladly entertained his curiosities while you prepared a mediocre version of his mother’s Jajangmyeon. As obscure some of his questions were, you were as honest as you could be. From how he managed to pass his senior year to how he got the job at his company, he asked it all while stuffing his face with dark noodles.

In your eyes, he looked like a kid who wanted to know what his older brother did, to follow in his footsteps and be just like him. He wanted to absorb so much information, it almost pained you to look at him listening to you with an expression so clearly resembling envy.

He cut you off and called out to you with a voice lower than before, sadder but still hesitant. You glanced at him in worry that you were rambling too much. He averted his attention away from you, “You’re crying.”

Raising a hand to your cheek, it was wet. You coughed in embarrassment, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He mumbled, meekly offering his half-empty drink to you.

You hopped out of your seat beside him, carrying your empty bowl to the sink. You stayed a bit longer away from his line of view, wanting to keep your emotions in check for Taeyong’s first night back in the apartment. You didn’t want to scare him away, he was getting more comfortable and you succumbing to your feelings would ruin everything you’ve worked so hard for.

You turned the tap on and cracked your neck, “I’ll clean up here while you can go take a bath. The bathroom is next to the bedroom.”

He let out a breath and nodded, lingering for a moment before ultimately deciding that it would be best to leave you be. He didn’t know how he could comfort you when he was the reason for your distress, it would only hurt you more if he tried to console you of things he didn’t know of.

He spotted a box on the coffee table on his way to the bathroom, a bright red box with doodles scribbled onto its sides. Glancing at you, he was about to ask what it was inside when he clamped his mouth shut. He sat down on the couch and let his curiosity get the best of him, reaching to fiddle with the latch that sealed it closed.

Inside were piles of polaroid films, photos were not only of you and him but also of his friends from college and people he had yet to remember. An assortment of knickknacks filled it to its brim, variations of trinkets that included movie tickets and receipts. It was a box made to help Taeyong remember the memories he had lost, the connections he had with people that he had forgotten.

Taeyong bit the inside of his cheek, it must’ve been your doing. You probably asked around for others to help assemble the box, his heart swelled at the thought. You were working hard to make himself and his environment feel normal after losing a good chunk of his memories, he had to work hard as well.

His fists were shaking, his knuckles turning a shade paler than it already was. Lala snaked into the crook of his arm and whimpered at her owner’s change of composure. He laughed humorlessly, scratching her belly in appreciation.

Shutting the box closed, he sighed. He made his way towards the unfamiliar bathroom and filled the tub. Doyoung always told him that a bath could melt all of his troubles away, and how he wished it was that easy.

Taeyong came out of his long bath with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, blushing as he hastily pulled on the clothes you had prepared for him in the bedroom. You remained unfazed as you waited for him in a change of sleepwear, he realized that you might’ve already seen him naked before and the thought of it only worsened the state of his cheeks. He perched on the edge of the bed once he was finished.

You grabbed his ointment and attended to the injury on the side of his head, a gash that the doctors had sewn back together. You had a light hand, he noted, but the ache persisted. It burned when the tip of its applicator grazed along the stitches. He reached out to toy with the hem of your shirt, to divert his attention from the pain. You wrapped a bandage around his head as quickly as you could.

You mumbled, “It’s all done.”

“Thank you.” He smiled up at you and you returned it halfheartedly. “Let’s go to sleep, yeah? I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No, don’t! This bed is yours, too.” You said, holding onto his wrists before he could make a home on your busted couch that functioned as Lala’s chew toy half the time. “I know how much your back hurts because of the hospital bed so please, sleep here.”

Taeyong looked at you with a conflicted expression on his face but after seconds of contemplation and mental debate, he relented only if you’d use the bed as well. You sighed and caved in.

He crawled to his side of the bed, making you wonder if there was an inkling of a chance that he remembered how much he preferred his half that faced the windows. You shuffled to your side, mindful to not cross any boundaries. This would be his first time sleeping next to you and you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable by being too close for comfort.

You switched to your side, away from his sight. The awkwardness was suffocating you, it seemed like you were the only one affected by it because soon you felt his side dip as he made himself more comfortable while you were frozen like a statue. You were nearing the edge of the bed, so far the end that one wrong move would make you fall out of it.

“Taeyong, are you asleep?” After an hour of silence, you spoke up but in hopes that he was already sleeping.

Unfortunately for you, he hummed in response. You could feel the blankets shift, making it known that he was facing your direction now that you’ve called him. At your lack of reply, he must’ve thought you didn’t hear him so he cleared his throat, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, look. I just want to say that if you want to break up with me, I’ll understand.”

“What?” He slowly sat up in confusion, hefting himself up with his elbows. You refused to look at him, gnawing on your lips and your eyes squeezed shut as if you were a kid caught by your parents awake past your bedtime.

“This situation we’re in, you don’t have to force yourself to be with me if you don’t want to.” You managed to choke out, choosing your words carefully. “I want you to continue living who you are now, I’ll just hinder you from moving on if I only remind you of the memories you lost.”

He called out your name, much sterner and different from the gentle tone he always used on you. You were suffering worse than he was, that he knew, but he didn’t know just how much until you’ve finally cracked—the insecurities and worries you’ve hidden from him, pouring out all at once and he didn’t know what to do with it.

You were sobbing into the sheets and he could only rub circles onto your back as a failed attempt at comfort. He wanted to tell you so many things, to reassure you that he wasn’t thinking the way you assumed he would be.

Taeyong thought of you so highly. You were someone who carried all of his burdens and stories that made him the person that he was, someone who had so much love for him despite not having it reciprocated back, someone who just wanted him to forgive himself for not being who he was and to start living again. You weren’t just some stranger to him, but the world had robbed him of you.

He ignored his hesitance and whispered under the blanket of the night, “You might’ve lost the Taeyong that you love but I promise I will spend the rest of my days proving to you that I’m worthy of the same love you’ve once given to me.”

“Taeyong—”

“It’ll take some time and I can’t assure you that things will be the same as it was but I swear, I will never forget you again and we’ll be happy.”

There were a lot of things to do, but none of those things were as important to him as lying here next to you, to pick up what remained of you from his ruins. He knew full well that he wasn’t the only victim. He was aware that you were also trying your best for him, to hold onto what’s left of the pieces you used to love about him.

“I really want this to work out.” You admitted amid your hiccups and sniffles, his heart broke at the sound of it. “I know I haven’t lost you yet.”

“Thank you for not giving up on me.” He mumbled, running his nimble fingers through the locks of your hair as a serene silence filled the room as you didn’t say anything back. After a week of being in the hospital, your heavy breathing was enough to lull him into his sleep.

You glanced at him for the first time since you had laid down, observing his furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips. A small smile appeared on your face, he looked tired even though he was already deep in his sleep. You whispered in the dark, “Sleep tight, Taeyong.”

The cold of the night renders you restless once again, your eyes brimming with a bright red hue and utter exhaustion. You swung your legs to the side of the bed, careful enough to not wake your boyfriend who was already asleep. His gentle snores filled the room and you made your way towards the balcony connected to the bedroom with your phone in hand and a blanket draped around your shoulders.

It was another starless sky, you looked up and the absence of the twinkling lights comforted you. You pulled on the blanket closer as you fiddled on your phone, tapping on an option that directed you to a phone call.

“Don’t you know that it’s two in the fucking morning? What do you want?” Doyoung’s voice replaced the monotonous ringing, sounding raspy from what you assumed was his sleep.

“I wanted someone to talk to.” It was your honest answer and you knew he wouldn’t judge you for it.

He yawned, and for a moment you felt a twinge of guilt but it dissipated the second after, “How is Taeyong doing? You brought him back home earlier, right?”

“He’s okay. He’s passed out on the bed right now.” You said, stealing a glance at where Taeyong was sprawled across the bed. A weak smile tugged at the corner of your lips, you haven't seen him more at peace. “It kinda sucks, you know? I want to be strong for him but I don’t know how long I will last.”

“You love him, right?”

“I do. So much.”

“Then just be patient, please. You’re the only person he can truly rely on right now.” Doyoung sounded like he was almost pleading with you, entrusting his best friend to you for a second time with the first was when you agreed to be Taeyong’s girlfriend. He said, “The love you shared is very strong, it conquered many hurdles and it will overcome this.”

You nodded your head, but you remembered Doyoung couldn’t see you. You whispered, “I’m scared, Doyoung.”

“Of?” He asked as quietly as you were being as if you wanted the conversation to only be a secret between each other.

“What if he never loves me again?” Your nail was shoved in between your teeth, your leg anxiously bouncing against the floor. It was a thought that had flitted about your mind but you have shoved it so far back in an attempt to ignore it but it demanded your attention, to face its possibility.

He scoffed at the other end of the line, “It’s Taeyong we’re talking about here. If he could fall in love at his first sight of you in college, he could easily do it again.”

You let out a shaky breath, “Thanks, Doyoung. I needed that.”

“Alright, good night. Take care of yourself.” He said, dropping the call when you didn’t return his farewell.

You bent over the railing, tilting your chin up to face the night sky once more. You scoured the endless dark for even just a glimpse of a shooting star, for a chance to wish upon the universe to end this nightmare of yours. Your boyfriend was right there with you, but you have never felt more lonely.

Shutting your eyes closed, you let out another sigh. You were so tired of crying but it felt like the only thing you could do. You wondered just how much an average person could cry, maybe you’ve exceeded their record.

You left the balcony not too long after, padding back to the bed with a heavier heart. You sat on your side and twisted your body to face Taeyong. His mouth was parted and his cheek was pressed onto the pillow he held onto, a chuckle rolled off your tongue. Before you could even think of stopping yourself, you leaned onto him and placed a kiss onto his forehead.

A familiar heat rises to your neck at what you have done, you jumped from where you sat and raised a hand to your lips as if you’ve been burnt. You hadn’t been this intimate to him since the accident happened.

You grabbed your blanket and bolted to the living room, making do with the couch for the rest of the night as you forced yourself to sleep. Lala sleepily watched you in confusion.

Days passed and things have gone relatively the same as the first time Taeyong returned from the hospital, but you noticed the tension has lifted ever-so-slightly. You finally stopped crying yourself to sleep and eventually he has grown enough courage enough to express his affection—discreetly holding your hand and tugging you into his arms late at night to cuddle.

He was forced to stay at home for the remainder of the month while he recuperated, family and friends have visited from time to time to keep him company while you returned to your job. All the stories he’d heard about the two years he’d forgotten about, all of them were linked to you one way or another and it sparked a familiar surge of jealousy he had over his own self; that his past self made so many good memories with you that he could not never experience again.

His feelings for you were growing steadily, dare he said that he may have grown a crush on you. He could never admit it aloud for how pathetic it was, to have a crush on your own girlfriend. But it was your soft hair, your gentle hands, and your never-ending love and patience for him—these were some of the things he could not believe he had forgotten the existence of, how loved it made him feel, and he was ready to drown himself in it again.

Taeyong received a package when you were still at work one day, the label of his hometown address stamped at the right-hand corner indicated that it was from his parents. He ripped off the packaging tape with Lala nuzzling into his side.

He looked inside and saw his luggage. When he was rushed in an ambulance after his crash, his parents were the firsts to arrive at the hospital so the nurses had entrusted to them his belongings that were found in the wreckage. They failed to return it to him once he regained his consciousness as they hurried home soon after you had arrived, unable to stay much longer for personal matters.

He supposed that he only had clothes in it for he was told that he came from his hometown for a week-long visit. Rummaging through his clothes, he was surprised to see a velvet box hidden underneath the pile.

He took it out and gaped at it with owl-like eyes, he fumbled to flip it open. A shiny sparkle of a diamond reflected a faint rainbow from the sunlight that poured from the nearby window, he stared at it for what seemed like an eternity. Chuckling softly, he held the engagement ring close to his chest with a newfound source of encouragement.

You returned home that day to a romantic dinner. Candles of different scents were lit up and a torn picnic blanket covered the dining table, you took off your shoes and followed the scent of your boyfriend’s familiar cooking and spotted him in the kitchen. He donned a suit but he had on an apron to protect his front, busy with whatever meal he was preparing to see you peeking in from the doorframe.

“What are you doing?” You asked, and Taeyong swore you had on the brightest smile that he had seen in a while.

He turned off the stove and threw aside his apron, he strode his way to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. He placed his chin on top of your head and said, “I want to get to know you better.”

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“But I want to take you out on a first date—well, not out out, but you get what I mean.”

You giggled, pressing your cheek against his chest but you suddenly drew back, the worried expression you had taking him by surprise. Raising a hand to his forehead, you asked, “Your heart is beating really fast. Are you okay? Do you want to sit down?”

He stared at you incredulously before bellowing a laugh, a hearty laugh you’ve never heard before. Shaking his head, a small hint of a smile appeared on his lips. He gently pried off your hand from his face and placed a kiss onto the back of your hand. He said, “I’m okay now.”

You were unconvinced that he was, but his sudden affection made it easy for you to ignore it. He leaned down and stole a chaste peck onto your reddened cheek. He put his hand inside the pocket of his suit and nervously fiddled with the velvet box.

Taeyong lost so much of his memories, but he was ready to make new ones as long as he was with you. He will learn to love you again as much as he did before, if not more as long as the universe allowed his heart to.

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animalhumanemn · 4 years ago

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My mom and I would go to local animal shelters every Sunday. We weren’t looking for a pet, in fact the day we adopted Mouse, we had an argument about a joke I had made. I said “well it’s time to go get another dog!” My mom was not up for that challenge. She threatened not going at all if I didn’t take it back.

We got to the shelter and visited the cats first, the little pets second, and finally the dogs. We were walking down the entrance, giving each dog some of the treats from their little treat tin. And then we saw Mouse. Of course, at the time he didn’t have a name, it was just a bunch of numbers. His tongue was hanging out of his mouth and I remember seeing that parts of it were white from being dry or something. Once we all laid eyes on Mouse, we knew it was over. That was our dog. He was spread across his little bed and didn’t even lift his head to look at us. He looked like he was severely depressed.

We asked a staff member if we could spend some time with him and they let us into his little area. He still didn’t get up to greet us. We started petting him gently and he responded well to it. My mom, Natalie, finally picked him up and held the sides of him up, and placed him in her lap. He was upright, though, because her knees were bent. She cradled his head in her hands and he smirked a little bit. My step siblings and I grabbed his water and tried to wet his tongue with our fingers. I took a photo of my mom holding him and sent it to my stepdad. My mom said “we just have to see what Mike says.” Mike responded almost immediately with a “bring that buddy home.” My mom then handed him off to me while she went to get a staff member to discuss the next steps of adoption. I placed Mouse back in his bed and we all went to the front desk.

The ladies there said it was his first day on the floor and they knew he’d be snatched up immediately. My mom started coming up with little names we could give him, and the ladies suggested “Mouse,” because that’s what they had been calling him since he came in. That was that. Our new family member’s name was Mouse. Of course we were curious as to where he came from. The same ladies said they couldn’t reveal too much due to privacy rules, but that he was a rescue from a hoarder house. I immediately pictured him being neglected, abused, bullied by bigger dogs with a bigger appetite. Once we got home, we took him out of his crate. He already started to perk up. He was sitting straight up and his ears were high and mighty.

We decided he needed a bath for a fresh start. We placed him in the sink and he was so small that even if he wanted to, he couldn’t climb over the top of it. We scrubbed him down and dried him off. From that point on, Mouse and I were attached at the hip. I would hold him on my left arm so that his head was in my inner elbow, his right arm was draped over mine, and my left hand cupped his butt (with the tail covering his little butthole).

He died this year on the day of the six year anniversary of his adoption. He died in front of me, in my hands. In those six years, I never thought I could love a being as much as I loved him. I would call him “my little man.” During the summer, when I would go out with my friends, I would actually leave earlier than everyone else because I missed him, or because it was raining out and I was worried he was scared. When I would hold him, which was all the time, I could feel my chest fill up with warmth. He ate table scraps every single day. We would order little things from restaurants or DoorDash just because we knew he’d love it. For the past two years, his collapsed esophagus got worse and worse. My mom and I were at our friend’s cabin with their family when I realized he needed to be spoon fed. I was overjoyed. It was the cutest thing in the world spoon feeding Mouse. He would look at you all excited and he would eat so much more than normal. It was perfect.

Losing Mouse has been one of the worst losses I’ve experienced in my life. I know that sounds ridiculous because he’s a dog. But, I realized that adopting an animal that has gone through tremendous trauma forms a different bond than adopting a dog from a breeder. The love you have for that animal is almost motherly. And you know that love is reciprocated back to you because of the way they follow you around, look at you, or even just trust you. Adopting from a breeder forms the attachment of “this person gives me food so I love them”, and that’s fine! But, Mouse made me realize how much you can really love someone who isn’t human, someone who doesn’t provide you with anything other than their company. Mouse’s past left marks on him. He had broken ribs that healed improperly. When Mike slicked his hair back one night, Mouse started growling at him and barking at him as if he thought Mike was a threat. Those marks left on his body and his mind caused a reaction in me and my mother that made us want every one of his days to be the best day of his life. If he wanted to sleep, we would give him a heated blanket to lay on. If he wanted to eat, we were there with the spoon. We brought him on road trips and camping trips. We brought him to restaurants with us in the summer so we could sit outside.

Mouse may have had a rough story in the beginning, but the conclusion of that story was blissful. Now, I feel like adopting from anywhere other than a shelter is neglectful of the future “Mouse” that could be. I’m so grateful to have had the amazing pleasure of being in his life. Dogs really are the only simple things in life.

— Ruby

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alexandrablake · 4 years ago

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love, jj

Prompts: 88. “I never meant to fall in love with you, I just did” from this prompt list! Pairing: Jemily, technically Word Count: 2,456 Warnings: Mentions of death. A/n: Red (@hurricanejjareau) picked this prompt. thank you, ily. that is all.

April 29, 2011 Emily,

Hey. It’s me. I’m sure you can tell by my handwriting. I’ve had you look over enough of my reports that I’d honestly be kind of disappointed if you didn’t. And before you say anything, yes, I know we play Scrabble, but that doesn’t count. I need to talk to you. God, Emily, I just need to talk to you. To see that you are alive, that you are well, and, honestly, to see that you are real.

These past few weeks without you have been awful. Everything is different. I’m spending more and more time around the office. The way we all skirt around your name like you never even existed is just painful. For a while there, I almost started to believe you weren’t real. And that’s a big fear of mine- to wake up one morning not worrying about you, because I know that’s all you have right now. You have Hotch and I thinking about you, and that’s it.

Depressing. And nothing I need to tell you, but it’s not like you’ll read these anyways. It’s nearing two months since you “died.” I don’t think Rossi has processed it yet. Penelope is a shell of her former self coping. Even Ashley seems distraught. Spence has dealt with far too much trauma, and yet, I’ve never seen him like this. He’s been at my house everyday this week, crying and then sleeping on the couch. It’s heart wrenching, and it takes everything in me to not tell him you’re okay. That you’re alive. But I can’t, not with Doyle still out there, always being a danger to you.

But, my God, is Morgan the worst to be around right now. Second to only Penelope Garcia, you were Derek’s favorite person in the team. No point hiding it, you’re all profilers and I spend way too much time around you guys.. He’s gutted. Honestly, I think he’s the one person here who has really “accepted” that you’re gone. Even Hotch is off. But not Morgan. And that’s the horrifying part. He’s the exact same person that he was before you left, but now his smiles are a little too wide and his gestures are a little too exaggerated. It’s terrifying to be around.

I guess that leaves me. I’m doing okay. Miss you everyday, but I feel bad every time I do because I know the truth. I know where you are (kind of) and I know that you are alive. They buried you. They know where you are, too, but for them, that’s six feet under.

Love, JJ

March 1st, 2011 Emily,

Me again. Today was better, I think. I know we like to say that the serial killers never take a vacation, but they seem to be on one right now. It’s just a bunch of consulting on relatively low level cases. Thank God, because I don’t think any of them could handle a case right now. Reid didn’t sleep at my house last night, which is improvement, I think. He definitely didn’t sleep, but I’ll take what I can get. Derek is almost worse.

It’s lonely here without you. Penelope isn’t herself, and I find her sitting at your desk all the time. She’s stopped staring at your photo constantly and now avoids the hallway with all the memorials so she doesn’t have to walk by you. She’s in her office even more than she normally would be. There’s boxes of cupcakes being brought in all the time. She’s an absolute and utter wreck.

You remember that feeling we all felt when Haley was killed? When we all stood around her casket and watched with teary eyes as Hotch and Jack said their final goodbyes? The feeling that nothing would be okay again? Yeah. That’s about what’s happening now, but now it’s not just Hotch feeling like his life is over. It’s all of us.

And God, you must be so lonely.

Love, JJ

April 10th, 2011 Emily,

Today was an all-time low. Everywhere I looked, there you were. Oh, there you were grabbing coffee after an all-nighter spent at my house. Oh, there you are, legs dangling over the side of the chair you’re lounging in because you don’t know how to sit properly. Oh, there you are, smiling at Hotch as you talk animatedly in his office about God knows what. Oh, there you are, downing shots with Rossi.

Your ghost was everywhere over this office, over my life. You were this office, you were everything. I can’t go anywhere to escape you. How can you have a ghost when you aren’t even dead?

April 11th, 2011 Emily,

Another crying Spencer night. They’re off on their second case, a spree killing in Tampa. I don’t know. At this point, I’m kind of lost. I’m spending far too much time at that office even though I don’t work there because it’s one of my last connections to you. I just… miss you, I guess. No, I know I miss you.

I just can’t stop feeling guilty. I’m causing all this pain in the team and in all your loved ones. I was the one who told Hotch you survived, I was the one who suggested you “die.” This is all my fault.

Hotch told me he was doing assessments of the team. That shouldn’t be happening. You should be there. I’m not going to ask for the results, and I don’t think I would be allowed to if I asked. I just don’t want to face the reality of what I’ve done.

Love, JJ

May 15th, 2011 Emily,

Hey, it’s been a while. Not much has changed. I haven’t been to the BAU since my last letter. I can’t face them anymore. I can’t sit within those walls that seep of you. I can’t face you.

God damnit, Prentiss! Why did you go after Doyle? You knew we could have helped! This could have all been avoided if you would have trusted us!

May 15th, 2011 Emily,

I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I just miss you. A lot.

May 22nd, 2011 Emily,

With you being gone, I’m starting to realize how much I depended on you. You were my person. If I had a problem, I came to you. If I wanted to get drunk, I came to you. If I wanted to get a break from the overwhelmingness of the testerone of our workplaces, I came to you. If I just wanted to escape, I came to you.

I’m still avoiding the BAU as best as I can. Even Hotch and I haven’t been talking. Spence is still coming to my house, though. Still crying. He misses you so much, Prentiss. We all do.

When Elle left, I didn’t think any of us would recover. She hadn’t been there for the longest time, but she was an integral part of the team. But we recovered. Then, when Gideon left, some of us were fine, but Reid? I genuinely thought he would never be the same. And I guess he isn’t, but he still recovered. And now you left. So if the pattern continues, we’ll recover.

But I don’t think I will. Because every waking minute of every day (and even some of the sleeping ones), the thought that we will never catch Doyle haunts me. The thought that I will never see your beautiful face again. The thought that I will never actually get to talk to you again.

They don’t have those thoughts. To them, you are dead, under the ground, declared dead on the table. To them, there’s no chance they’ll ever see you again. So, for them, if we don’t catch Doyle, yes they’ll be irrationally angry because the son of a bitch who killed you is still out there, but catching him never had any more reward than revenge and putting another bad guy in prison where he belongs. They won’t realize that not catching him means they’ll never see you again because they don’t even know that’s an option.

I love you, JJ

June 1st, 2011 Emily,

The worst part of all this is that I know you’re out there, lonely. I would say afraid, but I know you. Emily Prentiss doesn’t get scared, I know. But you’re alone, in a place that isn’t here. All I want to do is help you. And I can’t because if I do, there’s the possibility that I’ll make everything worse.

So, I’m trying to focus on positives: happy memories and good things to happen. Like, the other day, I walked through a market and, when I passed a flower stall, all I smelled was that expensive perfume you used to wear. The stuff you stopped using because it made Reid sneeze? The stuff you still use when we would go out on the town? Smelling it made me want to go out and buy a drink and dance the night away.

And when I was shopping for new shoes for Henry, I saw a pair of boots that I knew you would buy the instant you saw them. They were lace-up, black with a bit of heel (I know your never-ending goal is to get taller), and there was a slight rose decal on the top. I could hear you shouting, “These are men squashing boots!” because you’re never embarrassed in public. I could see the smile you give me, a flash of blinding white teeth. And I knew the smile I would shoot back because happy Emily is my favorite Emily.

I love you, JJ

June 18th, 2011 Emily,

You missed Morgan’s birthday. 38! It was a pretty somber occasion because we all knew that something was missing. And it was the day before your 3 month anniversary of being dead. Garcia tried as best as she could to fill the gap, decorating the bar that Rossi rented out very extravagantly. Material items could never make up the lack of you. We all just ended up getting drunk.

I think it’s really starting to hit Hotch. When I take Henry to hang out with Jack, Aaron’s quiet. Granted, he’s always quiet. (Not around you, though. You always bring out the best in people) This is a different quiet, though. He’s almost silent. I think he’s beating himself up. You know Hotch, anniversaries hit him hard. I think he hoped you would be home now, Doyle staying in the maximum security he belongs in.

But the rest of them are moving on. Spencer isn’t having the breakdowns he used to have. Penelope and I can go out for coffee without there being this heavy weight sitting on us. Ashley even joined us once, and it didn’t feel like she was replacing anyone. Rossi is smiling much more. Morgan is still acting a little fake, and he pulls sleepless nights every now and then, obsessing over the case. But he’s better. He can focus on cases, and Penelope tells me that they can go hang out without him being too absent-minded.

Hotch is the one I’m really worried about. We both remember the aftermath of Haley’s death. The grieving, the silence, the sleepless nights, the constant fidgeting so he could keep his mind of it. That’s what’s happening now. He’s just as worried about you as I am. We both know the possibility of never seeing you again.

That leaves me. Three months later and I wouldn’t say I’m much better than I used to be. I still have trouble hanging around them. I still find myself grabbing my phone to text you something before remembering that I would never get an answer. I still find myself longing for you, for your smile, for your touch.

I love you, JJ

July 17th, 2011 Emily,

I think this will be my last letter. I’ve come to a few realizations, and, even though I still desperately need to talk to you, writing these are one of them.

One: This isn’t healthy for me- nothing about this is. 5 stages of grief. We both know them, they have to do with the unsubs all the time. These letters are classified as denial. And I need to get through all five. Yes, you aren’t dead, but you may as well be. I can’t see you, I can’t talk to you, I can’t know where you are. There’s a death certificate. You were “buried.” And I need to get to acceptance. I need to accept that I may never see you again. I can’t just exist in this state of limbo forever.

Two: You are okay, and you can care for yourself. I guess this goes under the first one, but I don’t really care. You don’t get as close as we did are and not have an ever present worry of “what if she’s not okay? What if I’m not there to protect her? What if she needs my help?” But that’s where the denial thing comes in. I think that I’ve been doing that to myself because it keeps you near to me. It keeps you alive. Because if I can worry about you, there is still a you to worry about. Therein lies the issue. There is no you to worry over. To the world, you are dead. And I need to accept that. Because the you that does exist is perfectly capable and doesn’t need my help.

Three: Not having you here is the worst part of this all. Technically, you were gone before you left because I left, but we still talked and hung out. We still went to bars on alternating Saturdays. But we can’t have any of that anymore. And I think that’s what made me realize the last thing.

I am completely, utterly in love with you. And that’s terrifying. Unrequited love stories are the worst to read, but here I am, writing one. I loved how hot you looked when you tied your hair up. I love the way you carried yourself. I love the way you smiled at me when Reid went on one of his tangents. I love the way you looked at me when I delivered the profile. I love our hushed talks on the plane when everyone else is asleep, talking about everything and nothing.

The worst part? You are the missing piece in this puzzle. You, Emily, were the one thing I never took into account when planning my life out. I didn’t mean to fall in love with you, I just did. Yet, here we are- me, writing crappy letters admitting my feelings, and you, halfway across the world, completely unaware of the havoc you’ve wreaked on me.

I love you, JJ

#if this is the second time you saw this #no it isn't #jemily #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #jj x emily #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #eva's 25 days of christmas #advent calendar of fics (ACoF)#eva writes occasionally

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writhingcreature · 4 years ago

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✈️ for my beloved Jeronica

From this tag list!

How do they celebrate anniversaries?

Okay so Jeronica is one of those couples I like in theory but have never totally fleshed out and this is one of the reasons. They’re super opposite in a lot of ways. Like I think Veronica is DOWN to do something really big and flashy and extravagant. Not just because she’s used to doing such things all the time, but because this is something special to her and she really wants to have a good time and spoil Jug and just make it a whole occasion.

I think after a while of being together though, she learns a really important lesson which is gay it isn’t always about how much it costs or how good it is or whatever, but how much it means to the people involved. She learns the price in quiet evenings in, away from drama and trauma and bad guys and horrors and shadows in the closet and I think she learns it after a lot of fights with Jughead who doesn’t like to celebrate things with a bunch of other people and do a bunch of things and go crazy. He hates that sort of stuff.

So basically all of that was me brainstorming? Just to come to the conclusion that they probably set aside the day just for them - no one else. Betty needs another sleuth partner that day. Archie needs another partner in crime. Betty needs a different powerhouse to back her up. Archie needs someone else to encourage him to achieve his greatest state and do what he thought he wouldn’t be able to. Toni, Sweetpea, Fangs, the other Serpents, Cheryl, Josie, Reggie, Kevin - it doesn’t matter. That day they stay inside and they watch a movie they both love and make dinner and just crack jokes. Veronica flirts up a storm and Jughead is allowed to relax and grin and blush and be all soft and adorable and Veronica LOVES it because she can see her boy in all his squishy, soft glory.

Oh my god I love them hold up.

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withthekeyisking-writer · 5 years ago

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What's your fav fic that you wrote yourself?

This is such a challenging question! Like asking which of my children is my favorite 😂 I could definitely tell you a few of my least favorite though lol, no prob. Some of my older stuff—oof.

Alright, so since I really can’t pick a singular fav (I currently have 101 posted works, that’s just not gonna happen) how about I give a top 10? Not exactly what you asked, but eh life is like that 😁

So, in no particular order, my top ten fav fics that I’ve written:

1. Starting with the one that’s a large presence in my mind, (No) Places of Safety. This fic is my baby right now, shaping up to be one of the biggest things I’ve ever written (already at 69k and not even close to done) which is super amazing, because I usually have a problem with sticking to things after a while. I really love the way I’ve handled Dick’s deteriorating mental state, and I love the fact that I know exactly where it’s going, and have from the very beginning (again, rare for me. Usually things come together as I’m writing, and while that’s still happening, it’s been awesome having an actual solid plan and destination). I love the universe I’ve set up here, and am so excited with every chapter to show you guys what comes next. Hell I love this universe so much that I already have the whole next fic planned out 😋

2. Next I’ll say Three Little Birds Sat On My Window. I loved writing a reverse batfam, and am so proud of the way this fic turned out. I really spent a lot of time trying to get everyone’s voices right, how different they would be considering how different their life experiences would be. Tim and Jason especially were important to get right, with Tim being the one who died instead. I always hated in reverse batfam fics when people just make Tim’s version of Red Hood exactly the same as what Jason was like, because they’re different people and would have different ways of approaching things. So even in just the little glimpses I wrote, I’m really proud of their characterizations, along with that of Damian and Dick! I’m just overall very proud of this fic, and definitely wan to write more of this AU at some point in the future.

3. Third we’ll go with An Active Imagination (and, with it, the sequel Rules of Architecture). Thinking about these fics and working on them ways makes me excited as a writer. Like I don’t really have a lot to say about these, just that I really love the way I handled Dick’s shifting mental state, going back and forth between the brainwashing and having him be not at all aware of what’s going on. I also love how super creepy Slade is lol, how unabashedly awful. Plus writing a BAMF Dick is always a blast, and the Dick in these two fics is especially badass.

4. Next up is Take My Hand Through the Flames, because writing dark!Dick was so fucking fun, and something I need to do again very soon. Dick is so messed up here, so blood-thirsty and masochistic and crazy, which is something that I’ve never been able to truly do when I mainly write Dick. So that plus building an Earth 3 universe (pulling in Joey and Rose and what Dick’s dynamic with Thomas is like) was a blast to do.

5. Hmmm then let’s go with If Night Falls in Your Heart (and am just now realizing how often I use song lyrics and quotes for my titles). Exploring the trauma of what Catalina and Mirage did to Dick was something necessary for me to write, and it helped me work through some of my own shit I was struggling with. (Writing is the best coping mechanism!) Dick desperately needs people to help him and tell him none of that was his fault, and since canon certainly isn’t going to do it, I took it upon myself lol. Plus I’ve become strangely fond Dave the Unimportant Villain 😂

6. Sixth on the list is How Arbitrary Fate Is, an AU I am extremely fond of and seriously need to come back to. Teen Titans (cartoon) ‘verse is always something I enjoy writing, and extending the apprentice arc, playing with Stockholm Syndrome, blending Dick’s loyalty to his friends with his growing loyalty to Slade, how he reaches acceptance that this is his life now—I am so proud of the way this fic turned out. I have an entire sequel planned out in my head, other things have simply taken precedent. I will come back to it, though. Lol I want to scream from the rooftops to get everyone to love this fic as much as I do 😁

7. Now I’ll say A Current of Fate, which is something I go back and forth on loving but it always draws my attention back to it. I hate that I’ve set it aside for so long, I think there’s so much fucking potential in this world I’ve set up, and I really want everyone to see the way it’s playing out in my head!! But for that I’d actually have to keep writing it lol, the horror. Sometime soon (when I have less active projects on my hands) I’ll go back to this fic and edit it a little, update it to how much more confident I’ve become in my writing, especially of DC characters. Also Chapter 4 has been half written for literally a year now and it has Black Mask in it; since beginning that chapter I’ve become far more familiar with Roman (and written a lot of him lol) so reworking that chapter in the main priority, and then I think I can really move forward with this fic. I know exactly what happens, I just have to get there!! (Coincidentally, today is the year anniversary of the last time I updated this.)

8. Leaving the DC fandom, next we’re going with The Source of Grief. My Harry Potter fics have been touch and go, I can admit that, but I’m very proud of this one. I really loved doing the outside POV, everyone observing the actions of Harry and not really knowing who he is or what his motives are. I also got to address all my feelings about Severus Snape, which was awesome. Just, fixing problems and making things better was wonderful to write, and I got to put in some subtle Wolfstar lol, and talk about how Regulus Black doesn’t get enough credit. Idk, I’m kind of rambling, but I’m proud of this fic.

9. Ninth is One of the Legion Lost (plus its sequel Want the Strange and New). They’re both my Fuck You to Infinity War lol (which I liked a lot more than I know most people do, but still it needed some help). Loki is one of my favs, and bringing him into the plot of the movie and adjusting things from there is the kind of thing I love to do—what are the repercussions if just one thing is different? Also I enjoyed exploring the magic of the infinity stones! There was so much that could be done with them, with their level of sentience that was never really expanded upon, so I liked doing that.

10. Now we have People Who Move the World. A James Bond & Sherlock crossover, where Q and Jim are brothers. I got super far in this fic! 15 chapters and 94k, it’s a real beast. I love how I wrote Q, his relationship with Jim and Bond and Sherlock, and the odd little Q/Mycroft ship that I’ve become strangely fond of considering how strange the ship is lol. Just writing a bunch of absolute geniuses BAMFs ruling the world and making things go the way they want to them. Like, Q and Jim make such an awesome team and I know it’s such a niche fic but I’m really proud of it. Sucks that a majority of the ideas dried up lol, because I’m very pleased with what I created.

+1: Honorable mention! Breathe with Confidence. First time I ever wrote anything in the Star Wars universe, and it’s absolutely something I’m gonna have to come back to. The AU has a lot of potential, and I know exactly how I’d address the future of Dick’s story. Plus some side fics of the family’s reactions to what happened, the confusion over Dick’s disappearance. And in this fic itself I liked writing Slade’s manipulations, Dick’s desires, the small amounts of background I included. Idk, I just think this world is super cool.

Well, I hope you enjoyed reading this long drawn out thing! Probably more info than you were looking for 😁😅

#anon ask #ask #fanfic question #fanfic

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hydrospanners · 5 years ago

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fic masterlist: swtor

at the request of literally no one, i’ve created a masterlist of all my swtor fic. first is a chronological collection of all the swtor fic i’ve written in my “canon”. it’s broken up into snippets of time relative to the events of swtor. aus and gift fics are at the end. this is more for me than anything else, but if you have a bunch of time on your hands and want to read some fic--enjoy!!!

i am the most self-indulgent author known to man so there are numerous fics that don’t feature any canon characters in any significant way. i’m not sorry, but i did mark them with an asterisk for everyone’s edification. i also wrote actually vaguely descriptive descriptions instead of whatever bullshit i put in the descriptions on ao3. all links go to ao3 because tumblr was not designed for reading and it shows.

53 fics below the cut... what a trip, y’all.

backstory these fics are about things that happened before the opening of the class story.

* a very velaran life day - snippets of different life days in the velaran family history. no canon characters in it yet, but maybe this christmas i’ll get to some fics that aren’t solely about my own ocs.

* the shape of things to come - the story about how rea finally joined the jedi at the ripe old age of sixteen.

* a dimming star - the first steps on rea’s jedi path. they aren’t fun ones, lads!

* necessary sacrifice - like three years down the timeline and still no canon characters! rea continues to struggle with this whole being a jedi thing, and it continues to struggle with her! this one features a haircut as a symbol of a turning point in the story.

bars and stripes - canon characters??? in my fic????? its more likely than you think. this is a shameless ripoff of an episode of m*a*s*h masquerading as doc backstory. does it have cameos and/or mentions of other healer companions? maybe!!!

prelude these are fics set during the prologue of the class stories, everything that happens between the start and completing the capital planet missions.

* memories - rhese? do you finally get a say in all this??? this is the moment rhese and rea finally see each other for the first time since they were recruited to the jedi, set at the very start of the class story.

attachments - kira and rea talk about rhese. that’s it. that’s the fic.

act one all the stories set between killing tarnis and beginning preparations to capture the emperor (everything after coruscant ending and pubside balmorra starting). rip orgus. one day ill finish all those wips about how sad it was when he bit it. in the mean time, can i interest you in some gifsets?

lessons - now rea’s padawan, kira reflects on how bad rea is at teaching, though maybe without as much clarity as i just implied.

a tangled web - so stupid it’s basically crack, kira has to rescue rea from an embarrassing situation.

of flowers, failure, and the virtues of friendship - kira and rhese start to bond over the shared torment of having to be around rea. rivals to friends (one day i’ll write the “to lovers” part that comes after).

act two all the stories during the time when the knight is prepping for the assault on the emperor’s fortress and then assaulting it. everything between pubside balmorra starting and breaking free from the emperor’s fortress after that super successful plan to bring him in alive. great job jedi!

filling the table - is that shipfic????? the reason i started writing swtor fic in the first place??? this is rea being thirsty disguised as me sewing seeds for the eventual doc x rea romance. pazaak themed for some reason? (doc x rea)

when the wicked play - this is me being obsessed with the translation of video game violence to vaguely realistic circumstances posing as doc feeling some kind of way about rea murdering a whole bunch of dudes who wanted to hurt her but weren’t powerful enough. not primarily romantic but definitely some setup for their relationship.

night shift - everything is doc x rea and nothing hurts. rea’s got work to do but who can work when there’s a horny mustachio’d doctor trying to persuade her back to bed??? it’s not love it’s just good sex!!!!! honest!!!!(doc x rea)

these nights never seem to go to plan - rea isn’t yearning for affection, she’s just too tired to get out of doc’s bed after so much boning. okay maybe this is about slightly more than good sex after all... doc x rea TENDERNESS.

somewhere we’ve not been before - this is the good shit lads!!!! doc x rea!!! first dates!!!! shenanigans!!!! honest to goodness falling in love between all that fucking that do!!!!!!!!!!!! (doc x rea)

no better taste - a sequel to the last fic featuring the morning after!!! some post-horniness introspection!! tenderness!!!!!! hints of yearning!!! god i miss the days before the mind control and the carbonite when the problems were normal things like commitment and abandonment issues. (doc x rea)

heart - rea sends doc a rocking “thanks for the great sex” gift!! rhese is disgusted by every part of it! this is comedy folks!!!! (doc x rea... i guess)

interruptions - rea takes a work call while she’s boning doc. that’s the whole fic. i think this was my first spicy fic?? i can’t remember. (doc x rea)

* where you go to rest your bones - sibling tenderness!!!! their relationship is super complicated, but rhese is reminded that underneath all the bullshit rea really does love him a lot.... it’s both sad and not sad at the same time. schroedinger’s sadness.

gifts - the crew tries to plan a gift for rea, but what do you get for the woman who’s banned from everything?? so dumb it’s basically crack and i’m not sorry for it.

crapshoot - the crew takes bets on what rea’s next Bad Idea TM will be. she shows them you can’t predict chaos. basically crack but i don’t care.

spoonful of sugar - vignettes about the jedi knight crew dealing with sickness. almost entirely comedy and/or fluff. doc x rea content is present and rhese x kira content is suggested.

a little eggstra - grocery shopping gone awry, based on an old tumblr text post. hella stupid, yet hella fun. doc x rea is in the background.

to break our bones for kindling - you thought we were just having good times??? you’re a fool. doc’s job is to heal people and rea’s job is to break them. sometimes they have work-related disagreements!!! be sad with me. doc x rea.

* when a problem comes along, you must whip it - i can only stop being stupid for so long, so here’s the story about how rea came to possess her lightwhip, the stupidest weapon known to man. these events do not go well for rhese.

things unsaid - a dumb doc x rea drabble about stupid shit rea says when she’s been mortally wounded. if doc were to just let her die, no one would blame him.

* the things you do for love are gonna come back to you one by one - a bit of a character/relationship study about what rhese is willing to sacrifice for love of his sister, no matter how complicated things are between them. a second chapter about what rea sacrifices for rhese is in my wips and will be completed... .eventually.

lovesick - doc x rea ship content. my interpretation of that one conversation where doc’s like “hey would your jedi powers tell me if im going crazy also do you love me? check yes or no. i will not elaborate.”

* the things we left behind - oh no lads.... we’re building up to the fortress shit.... our good times are over. rea does some underhanded shit to make sure her brother doesn’t go on this mission to capture the emperor cause the plan does not seem like a great one.

act three wow wasn’t act two fun??? so much silly nonsense and love. now get a drink assholes it’s Time To Be Sad. act three covers everything in the class stories after coming back from that super successful assault on the emperor’s fortress (great job jedi!) to finally stabbing the bastard in the dark fortress and hoping that gets the job done at last. (spoilers: it doesn’t!!!!!) aka stories from belsavis to the final assault on dromund kaas.

everything we left there - it’s trauma time!!! rea’s fucked up from the fortress and feeling the pressure (thanks for the prophecy scourge!!! love that!!!!) so she hurts people she cares about to protect them. it’s her signature move!

the only thing that’s real - rea continues to be fucked up from what happened on the fortress but hey... at least she isn’t fucked up alone??? sad doc x rea content.

into the jungle - the gang is on belsavis and no one is having a good time! since rea isn’t herself, doc tries to pick up the slack and reassure kira that it’ll all be okay! it goes about as well as you’d expect.

interlude now that i’m looking at it, there are some serious gaps in my fic coverage. anyway, sad hours are over, the emperor is (kind of but not really) dead and there may still be a war on but things are looking up! this covers everything between the emperor’s death and the beginning of kotfe, including forged alliances and the shadow of revan.

hands too hungry - doc finally takes rea on that honeymoon she didn’t really care about in the first place! tragically, rea is way too horny to be impressed by what an amazing vacation he planned for himself them. peak rea x doc content.

no kind of romantic - it’s doc and rea’s one year anniversary but they are both working on opposite sides of the galaxy. sad! it’s doc x rea fluff disguised as angst.

a little help from a friend - rea and theron are worst/best friends and i recycle romance tropes into annoying friendship ones. this is the least sexy sharing body heat fic you’ve ever (not?) read. bite me.

retirement - rea has some feelings about her very violent, stressful job and how it interferes with her husband doing things that actually help and heal. doc x rea content.

the dreaded kotfe content these are sad hours!!! this is everything from arcann’s invasion on, cause i’m not breaking it up by post-carbonite storyline you bastards. i don’t know why i’m being so hostile no one asked me to do this.

every doubt we had - after watching what may have been his sister’s death by exploding starship, rhese is having trouble sleeping. no one is more surprised than him when seeks out doc for comfort! doc & rhese brothers by marriage solidarity. carbonite angst...

love is a waiting game - rea’s been MIA for six months since the ship she was on bit it and her crew is finally making some changes. doc is sad about it. doc & rhese brothers by marriage solidarity again. doc x rea angst.

waiting - some time has passed and now rhese is the sad one again!!! grief is so funny isn’t it??? hahahaha haha hahahaha why is no one else laughing? doc & rhese brothers by marriage solidarity yet again.

the greatest distance - rea’s back baby!!!! oh but this isn’t a celebration. she’s taking a tour of her long lost ship now that all the people she loved aren’t in it. it’s a sad one, fellas.

* when the stars are the only thing we share - rea tracks down some people from her past to help her track down her brother since he went missing while she was having a nap. no canon characters were used in the making of this fic.

leave her sleeping a little longer - rea has a dream and wakes up missing doc even more than she was before. sad hours. doc x rea angst.

take back what the kingdom stole - after theron pulls some Shenanigans (you know the ones) his friendship with rea is in peril. they both break character and actually talk shit out for once.

a wish your heart makes - rea dreams a dream. so does doc. it’s a wet one. this makes it sound lighthearted but actually it’s angst with a side of porn. doc x rea supreme spicy/sad content.

overserved - back to crack baby!! rea gets drunk and acts a fool based on a joke made in a discord server. this is the best shit i’ve ever written.

thrusting back into my skin i feel anew - the band is back together again and everything is fine!!!! just kidding -- actually people change a lot in six years and rea and doc are having some trouble fitting back into the marriage they had back then. doc x rea angst but with a hopeful ending!

non-canon fics i’ve written a couple of things with my dumb characters that are too stupid even for me to put into their canon story or are otherwise aus. these are them, listed in no particular order.

the lies we tell ourselves - a sadder (yet possibly more realistic) take on the ossus reunion and what follows. a bit experimental. doc x rea angst au.

archiban frodrick’s kennel - a romance au where doc is a vet and rea has a pet with a health issue, inspired by my own stupid dog whom i love very much. doc x rea. spiciness suggested but not detailed; sorry horndogs.

fallen - a fun au where rea’s shittiness as a teacher and everything being bad leads to kira falling to the dark side... its angst lads.

the new recruit - rusk’s squad adopts a kitten. that’s the fic.

cruel - ever wonder how things would have turned out if rea was never smuggled off eriadu and got plucked up by the sith?? no??? well i have and i wrote about it. the self-indulgence never ends.

fill my lungs with sweetness - a gift fic for @hoiist; flower-themed vignettes about doc expressing his love for hoiist’s knight, vii. this is some real soft shit, lads.

remember me, love - another gift fic for @hoiist; this time some ossus-flavored angst about doc seeing through vii’s eyes in his dreams. what he sees is not comforting!!! all aboard the angst train--choo choo!!

#swtor #swtor fic #jedi knight #hydrostuff #hydrofic #hydroswstuff #hydroswfic #this was.... a lot

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mariska · 5 years ago

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well, today marks the 8th year anniversary of the day that Lollipop Chainsaw was released, which is absolutely bonkers. here is me the first time i did mariska cosplay makeup on myself vs the most recent time i did for the occasion! (left pic is from the beginning of 2013 when i was 15, right pic is from a few months ago this year right before i turned 23)

i’ve made a few very similar posts celebrating the anniversary of its’ release over the years, but i always get very nostalgic about it this time of year because, as silly as it sounds, this game literally changed the course of my life in a very positive way. so i’m gonna write about what it means to me for the millionth time under the ‘read more’ here, lol.

i turned 15 in may of 2012 and it was probably the most difficult year of my life. i’d been homeschooled for a couple years at that point because a number of issues had prevented me from being able to stay in public school any longer, and i’d just come out of a not great year in 2011 where i had attempted to try and go back to a public school setting for my first year of high school and it went really bad. i had lost contact with all but one of my friends that i used to hang out with in person and barely talked to anyone except my parents and my therapist anymore. i was extremely depressed and attempting to work through PTSD but a lot of the trauma was still so fresh. my anxiety was so severe that having a brief interaction with a cashier at a store would cause me to throw up half of the time. it was getting more difficult to be passionate about anything with every passing day and i spent a lot of time feeling hopeless that i was doomed to spend the rest of my life anxious and alone. at the end of that year, my health took a nosedive and i got my first auto-immune disease diagnosis, starting what would be a life-long journey of dealing with chronic illness and chronic pain, and having to juggle constant hospital visits/drs appointments and flare-ups of scary symptoms that i had no idea how to process (on top of my pre-existing mental health issues, and on top of the fact that i am autistic and didn’t know this at the time/wasn’t receiving any kind of professional validation for that yet)

lollipop chainsaw was the first game i ever pre-ordered and i was looking forward to a fun, mindless distraction the day it released. i beat the main story the next day and had an absolute blast with it, so i went to check if anyone was talking about it on tumblr and discovered that a couple of people had made some ‘ask blogs’ where they were going to roleplay as the characters and answer questions as them. i thought that sounded like a fun way to maybe get to interact with a few people, so i made one for my favorite character, mariska, and introduced myself to the other people i found.

it is absolutely wild to think that i would most likely have a very, very different life if i hadn’t made that blog. i owe so much to that community of people and the friends that i made on there. it encouraged me to start talking to people again, both in and out of character. it re-ignited my passions for writing, which i hadn’t done anything with in years, and art, and MUSIC, oh my GOD. i learned about so many new musical artists i’d never listened to before. i discovered that mariska’s voice actor, shawnee smith, had a music career of her own and totally fell in love with her songs, which led me to watching a bunch of her other films/shows, which led me to Saw, which led me to HORROR, my FAVORITE movie genre ever and a passion that literally defines a huge chunk of my life now. hearing her sing made me want to be a musician. my parents bought me my first guitar as a gift and i was over the moon with happiness. i started taking music lessons with a music teacher who i was really able to connect with and began writing my own songs in my spare time. then, for my 16th birthday, my parents surprised me with a record player and took me out to the nearest music store so i could pick out a big stack of cheap, used records of bands i’d only ever heard mentioned a couple times before in my life.

my life changed, completely. i spent all day rotating between writing as mariska on my roleplay blog, to creating art, to sitting on my bed and doodling in sketch books while i played Jefferson Airplane and Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd and Aerosmith and Rolling Stones and Supertramp and Earth, Wind & Fire and etc etc etc on my record player for hours. i started spending birthday/christmas gift money on clothes i found at thrift stores and discovered that i felt more like myself in a used dress from the ‘60s than i ever did in the modern clothes i was used to wearing.

i had passions again, and friends, and i was happy to be alive. i’ve said it so many times before, but i literally do not think i would have survived that era of my life if it weren’t for the friends, connections, hobbies and general love for life that i was able to find just from being a part of the lollipop chainsaw fan community that year. it truly saved my life and i will never be able to properly thank everyone who had a part in that for how they helped me cope with everything.

happy 8th anniversary, lollipop chainsaw!! i cannot believe it’s almost been a decade now. what a long strange trip it’s been etc etc. lmao

#lollipop chainsaw #mariska #maya papaya #long post #hopefully the read more works for mobile users i dont want to force anyone to have to scroll thru this wall of text on their dash LOL

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violetsmoak · 5 years ago

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Pieces of April [12/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099044/chapters/50202530

Summary: On the anniversary of his death, Jason’s second life takes an abrupt new turn and he’s faced with a challenge that neither Batman nor the All-Caste prepared him for.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Warning(s): Past Jason/Isabel, kidfic, minor canon character death (pretty sure you can guess who), I’ll add more warnings/tags as I think of them.

Canon-Compliance: Takes place in between the two RHATO series, so after Roy and Kori and before Artemis and Bizarro. Jason and Isabel Ardila were in a brief relationship.

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

Isabel’s place has a lived-in feel that Jason is not very familiar with.

Willis and Catherine’s tiny apartment is a distant memory for him, and the handful of foster homes that followed don’t even rate. Wayne Manor, while once home, was never exactly what one might call “homey”; and the less said about his time in the League, the better.

As for his network of safe-houses, these are meant more for function and convenience than to encourage long-term comfortable living.

Very different from the room illuminated when Jason flicks on the lights.

Warm, inviting colors grace the walls, somehow blending well with living room furniture meant more for comfort than to match. In the kitchen, dishes dry on the rack because there’s no dishwasher, while a vacuum cleaner lies forgotten in the hallway. There’s no evidence of a maid or English butler the way Tim’s place has; like Jason, Isabel was uncomfortable with being waited on.

Half of her kitchen table is buried beneath a sea of papers, piles of junk mail, receipts and a newspaper or two.

It’s second nature for Jason to go through the detritus, though he’s not entirely sure what he’s looking for. When he doesn’t find it, he slips into the kitchen, rifling through cupboards and drawers. Lots of people will stash small, important property in their kitchen, banking on would-be-intruders focusing on the obvious takes like televisions and computers. Since Jason isn’t in a hurry, he has the luxury of searching through everything himself.

Apparently Isabel wasn’t worried about theft since he finds nothing; frowning, he glances over to the fridge for potential clues. Magnets from what appears to be every country she’s ever visited hold up notes against the chrome façade, along with pictures and business cards and—

Jason reaches out before he’s aware of it, tracing his finger across the edge of the black and white printout that holds the prominent place of center. The sonogram picture is different from the one’s he saw on cases before he died, or even the kind he sees on television. It’s not simply a grainy outline of a vaguely baby shape, but a 3D image that details the features of the infant he held in his arms just last night.

He reaches out to take it off the fridge, then thinks better of it and backs away.

Not like I need to keep anything like that, I’ve seen the actual baby already.

He wanders over to the kitchen counter, sifts through more paper. There’s an actual physical day planner there that’s seen better days, pages ripped and bent and some stuck together. He pockets that, intending to go through it later; it might hold information about her friends and contacts.

Speaking of…

He studies the walls and surfaces of the unit, noting the sea of personal trinkets and photos of Isabel. Most of them are of her and a bunch of other, usually against the backdrop of a beach or bar lounge. Some of them include herself and Safiya—he recognizes one of the photos as having been taken on the edge of Robinson Park, in the area that’s still safe and Poison Ivy free.

In all of them, she looks happy, which calms that lingering part of him that’s worried his presence in her life had any kind of lasting trauma. Either she is—was—the most well-adjusted person ever, or she had a Wayne level of ability to pretend.

Studying the rest of her belongings along the bookshelves and coffee tables, something strikes him; in addition to the usual paperback bestsellers and gossip rags he would expect from someone of Isabel’s age and interests, there are baby books tucked everywhere.

From parenting How-To guides, to early readers that are still in pristine, sometimes packaged condition. There are fairy tales and Spanish alphabet books and board books with various textures cut in the pages.

Like someone was gearing up to become Supermom.

Which she was, wasn’t she?

Numbly, he wanders down the hall, glancing briefly into the master bedroom before his eyes are drawn to the second room. It feels like the bottom of his stomach has dropped out as he looks at the door, and the pretty, swirling pink script stenciled across it. Letters set between colorful flowers and balloons.

Luisa.

Tentative, he nudges the door fully open and wanders into what is clearly a nursery. There’s a crib set up, with a mobile of stars and planets, a changing table, rocking chair—quite a few of the mysterious objects he spied sitting in a pile on Tim’s living room floor.

All of which speaks of a woman who very much wanted the baby currently residing in the Gotham General neonatal wing.

Jason sits down heavily on the rocking chair, barely hearing it creak beneath him as his thoughts play on repeat.

She wanted this.

But she didn’t tell him.

Obviously she didn’t want him involved.

But then why list him as the father?

Why make him her emergency contact, instead of her friend? It seems like an awfully calculated, purposeful move for someone that didn’t want him in her child’s life.

He gazes blearily around the nursery, eyes flitting past the typical soft and fuzzy and mostly pink stuffed animals and blankets. Everything in here was chosen with care as if picked directly from a catalog, and with intent.

Except for one thing.

Jason stands, reaches for something on top of a chest of drawers just beside a baby monitor.

The Red Hood plush toy is a ridiculous caricature, with a bulbous head and stubby arms. Toy companies have been making merchandise off the world’s heroes since time immemorial, but he didn’t realize that plushies were a thing.

Let alone that there’d be a version of me included in the line.

His thumbs slide across the tiny stylized red bat on its chest; there are fabric holsters but no guns, of course.

It’s the only item that seems out of place in the entire room.

Obviously placed here on purpose.

But wouldn’t that mean…?

Mind reeling, Jason returns to the living room, more determined now to figure out Isabel’s frame of mind. To know the thoughts behind her decisions. There’s a folder among the medical stuff, with information relevant to her pregnancy—medical history, prescriptions—but nothing written in her hand.

Which isn’t surprising. Who keeps a journal these days when everything’s online?

That has him searching out her computer, which is set up in the corner of the living room on a tiny desk. He boots it up and studies the keyboard to see which keys are more faded than others.

Before he can make much headway guessing her lock-password, there’s a bang that has Jason whirling around. His instinct is to reach for his gun, but being mindful of his location thinks better of it.

Just as well, considering who the intruder is.

“What do you think you’re doing here?!” Safiya demands from the doorway of the apartment. She’s holding an aluminum baseball bat and wearing a fierce expression. “This is not your apartment! I will call the police if you don’t—” She cuts off when she recognizes Jason. “You.”

“Hi,” he says, somewhat bemused.

She doesn’t relax, narrowing her eyes at him; they are puffy and bloodshot, and he suspects she’s been crying since leaving him and Tim at the hospital.

“How did you get in here?” she demands at last, suspicious but somehow bypassing the usual questions he'd expect. “I have only set of keys.”

She brandishes the keychain in hand as though to make a point.

The utter lack of surprise or fear catches him off-guard; Jason falters for a minute thinking of a plausible lie to tell. And then he decides he doesn’t have the energy.

“I picked the lock on the window,” he tells her.

Safiya’s eyes narrow. “They teach you that sort of thing in bodyguard school?”

Nice lie, Drake. Obviously she didn’t buy it.

“Can’t all be taking bullets for the president.”

“Right…” Safiya lowers the bat, but only incrementally. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to…see for myself,” he finishes lamely, still not entirely sure how to answer the question.

“I understand.” This time the fight goes completely out of her. She steps into the apartment, glancing around furtively, and then closes the door behind her as she comes inside. “You might have mentioned earlier you wanted to come. I could have given you the keys.”

“Wasn’t really thinking about it back then,” he tells her, watching her set down the bat. “You’re pretty intimidating for someone so small.”

“This is Gotham,” she retorts. “It would be stupid to be anything less than vigilant whether you have cause to fear or not.”

“And you don’t have cause to fear?”

“When one has a guaranteed death hanging over one’s head, there is very little to fear.”

Jason thinks of his time as Robin, of the danger and the close calls, and of his life now; the certainty of it ending in blood and fire and another goddamn plaque in the Cave.

He gets it. More than she knows.

“Fair,” he acknowledges. He pauses, a bit awkward, and asks, “How are you holding up?”

“As well as can be expected,” she sighs, looking around the room. “It does not seem real.”

“You’re telling me,” Jason says, though it comes out as more of a sigh. He feels the tension in his shoulders, which have been pulled tight since Safiya first made her appearance, ease. “Have you had a chance to reach out to anyone?”

“Not yet. I’ve been…processing.”

“If you need help…” he begins, uncertain about what exactly he’s offering to do here.

“You have other things to worry about,” she replies with a shake of her head.

No kidding.

He recalls his conversation with Tim about the fate of the baby, and before he can think better of it, blurts out, “Do you know anything about her last boyfriend?”

Safiya gives him a sharp look. “Why? Are you going to try to convince him the baby is his?”

There’s judgment there, not entirely unwarranted maybe.

“No. But maybe he and Isabel have—had mutual friends. People who might…”

Take the baby.

He doesn’t need to say it out loud, she clearly follows his thought process. This time there’s no judgment, surprisingly.

“His name was Jonathan,” she recalls. “Sutter, I think.” Jason makes a note of that. “He’s an accountant for one of the big firms downtown.”

“Accountant, huh?”

Guess she wanted someone the exact opposite of me the next time around…

“Yes. They met at the hospital the last time the Joker escaped,” Safiya explains. “He was being treated for that horrible gas, and Isabel was…”

She trails off, considering him carefully.

“Recovering from the bastard shooting her up with heroin,” Jason says darkly. “Yeah, I was caught up in that myself. Not a night I want to revisit.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Safiya says dryly. “Anyhow, they went on a few casual lunch dates and she said it might be getting serious, and then I didn’t hear from her for a week. I’m guessing that’s when she was with you. And then two weeks after that, they were together.”

“How serious was it?”

“Serious enough, I think. She was happy.” She pauses here, lower lip trembling and inhales deeply through her nose. Jason recognizes the look of someone trying to stave off tears. “Then it was over and she was alone. Shortly after she told me about the baby, and…well, you. Sort of.”

Jason swallows, not even able to imagine what Isabel might have said about him. There’s a long silence between them, both of their thoughts clearly on the woman whose presence is so pervasive in this room.

Safiya sniffs.

“Listen,” she says at last. “I can see you want to do right by Luisa. I don’t know what Isabel’s reasons were for not telling you. But I don’t think it’s because you would harm a child. As long as you’re acting as guardian to Luisa, I will make you the same offer I made her mother: I will help you as much as I am able. Just call me and I’ll do my best to be there.” She offers Jason a wan smile. “You are not alone in this.”

“So I’ve been hearing,” he replies heavily. “Still working on the believing.”

There’s a trilling noise and Safiya reaches for her pocket for her phone, sliding her thumb across the screen to silence it.

“Speaking of believing,” she says. “I have to leave for prayers now. If you were anyone else, I’d worry you intended to steal and sell her belongings but given who your partner is…I doubt you’re hurting for money.”

Jason snorts. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“I’m also assuming you can let yourself out of here the same way you got in,” she continues. “So I won’t offer you my keys. Unless you intend to take over plant-watering duties?”

“Uh, no. I’m the opposite of a green thumb.”

He doesn’t mention that he’s never taken care of a plant on his own, let alone a child. Probably she won’t appreciate that kind of gallows humor.

“Alright then. I will see you around, I guess.” She pauses in the doorway. “Although, the next time you come by, at least send a text message or something so I don’t accidentally knock you out.”

And with that, she’s gone.

Jason shakes his head, mouth quirked upward in grim amusement. Knowing his luck, and his frame of mind, she’d actually manage it.

He doesn’t move immediately upon finding himself alone again, feeling rather like the interlude with Safiya has broken through some of the mounting, breathless panic he had been feeling before.

His eyes catch upon the fridge again, and the sonogram picture there, and he physically shakes himself.

Get back to work.

The computer in the corner is open on the login screen, and he goes to sit down, setting to work decrypting her password.

It doesn’t take very long—she’s not the kind of person to use something obvious like ‘password’, but a lot of civilians don’t bother with the randomly generated string of numbers, letters and symbols. It takes about fifteen minutes for him to happen upon the word based on faded keys—a mashup of her parent’s names and some numbers he supposes holds significance to her—and he’s into her system.

It’s a job he’s had to do uncountable times in his life, scanning through private files and documents of murder victims or suspects. It’s always had a kind of morbid quality to it before, but he’s feeling that even more now.

He knew this person.

He knows if she was here—if she was still alive—she would not be happy with such an invasion of her privacy.

But she’s not here, is she. That’s the whole problem.

He swallows, flipping through the digital folders; when nothing jumps out at him immediately, he decides to come back to it and instead opens her email program.

It’s mostly a list of weekly work schedules and the requisite spam from subscriber lists, but then he notices there’s a single file in the Drafts folder that curiosity has him clicking a moment later.

[Draft] [email protected] (no subject)

The last date it was modified is the day she died. He clicks on it, eyes immediately flying to the first word—Jason—before stopping, breath catching. Because while this is exactly what he’s been trying to find since he got here, it’s also exactly what he didn’t want to find.

Dreading what he’s about to discover, he takes a breath and braces himself to read the whole thing.

Jason—

I don’t know if you even use email or not, but I saw this on that ridiculous Rent-a-Bat sign the last time I was in California and figured I’d try. I’d call your cell, but I might screw up saying what I need to over the phone. Assuming you even pick up for me.

At least this way, I might work up the nerve to press send.

I’m pregnant. About seven months now—

He pauses, glancing again at the time of the email, because Isabel had been nine months pregnant when she died, which means she started this email months ago but never got around to sending it.

Never got around to, or never worked up the courage.

Just like Safiya said.

He goes back to reading.

—About seven months now.

It’s a girl, and she’s yours based on the dates the doctors gave me. I wasn’t with anyone but you, unless Kori’s people can get a person pregnant by just touching them.

(The baby’s perfectly human by the way, according to the tests.)

I didn’t find out until weeks after we ended things, or I would have told you when we last spoke on the phone. After that, I didn’t know how to tell you. About the baby or the fact, I’ve decided to keep her.

I was scared. For a lot of reasons that I’m sure you understand. I was worried you’d try to talk me out of this, and then I worried if anyone were to find out, they might try to use us against you. It’s already happened once; it can happen again.

There are rumors all over Gotham that the Joker’s dead, but they’ve said that before. It’s dangerous here, so much so that I’ve thought about leaving the city with her and starting over. Except, it’s hard enough to do this Mom thing by yourself in the only place that’s ever been home, let alone up and move somewhere you’ve got absolutely nothing.

And to be honest, I’ve never been the type to run away from something.

Which is why I’m embarrassed it’s taken me so long to get in touch with you.

I’m not sure if I’ve been more worried that you’d want nothing to do with me or her, or the opposite. That you’ll do the decent thing and give up everything you do—all the important stuff, saving innocent people and fighting aliens and taking out the worst criminals—just to be here. Because that’s the type of person you are. You’re hard because you have to be but inside, you’re a good man and you’ve got a code. On that front, I can’t think of a better man to have a child with.

But I also get that you might not want to or be able to be that person. And I understand all of that. I would never ask you to change your entire life because of this. You have a purpose and resources and plans I can barely imagine, but I think in some ways I’m a lot freer than you are.

I’m lucky here, I have a friend to help me out in the first weeks, and my job has an excellent daycare program for when I’m off maternity leave. I have a support system and we will be alright on our own if you decide you can’t or don’t want to be a part of this.

But I hope you’ll want to.

I want her to meet you, whether it’s now or years from now. A kid has a right to know her family. I lost mine too young, and you said you did too. I don’t want that for our daughter.

I’ve decided to call her Luisa, after my mother. I haven’t chosen a middle name yet, in case you want some input on that, but otherwise I’ll

The email cuts off abruptly there, and he finds himself wondering what interrupted her, even though he can guess the reason. His brain is still struggling to compute her final words to him.

There’s a lot to unpack, but the most startling thing is that Isabel wanted him to know.

She not only wanted this baby, but she wanted Jason to be in her life.

In their lives, more to the point.

Stunned, he leans back in the chair and stares unseeing at the computer screen as he tries to sort out how he feels about all this.

He doesn’t notice that hours have passed until the hospital contacts him hours later.

⁂⁂⁂

Your feedback matters! I want to know what you think of my story, so feel free to leave kudos, a comment or as many of these emojis as you want and let me know how you feel!

❤️️ = I love this story! 😳 = this was hot! 💐 = thank you for sharing this 🍵 = tea spilled 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy! 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good! 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER 😢 = you got me right in the feels 🤯mind blown 🤬god damn cliffhanger 😫 whyyyyyyy?!?!?

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#jaytim #fanfiction #jaytim fanfiction #babyfic #jason todd #original character #original character: safiya amin #accidental baby acquisition #slow build #slow burn #coping with big news #having to adult

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thewalkingdeadimaginings · 6 years ago

Text

It was Fate

Hey love your writing, been reading it all day and just wow. I was wondering if you could please write a one shot where Negan saves someone with mouth to mouth or something like that sorry for the weird request thanks

Hi, human trashcan here! I thought for the thanksgiving holiday, I’d get off my ass and actually post a one shot. I was working on a one shot for the anniversary of my friend’s passing but that was all the way back in July so I think I’ll save it for December on what would’ve been her birthday. I missed posting on here to be honest. And I’m here with another Negan one shot for you guys. And thanks a bunch for 2,000 followers! That’s pretty freaking wild. I’ve never had 2,000 followers on any of my social media before so this is super weird haha! ANYWAYS, enjoy! And hope you guys had a fun holiday! <3

It was never a dull moment. Every day offered a new adventure. And every day was a good day, at least for Negan it was. It felt like he had the entire world in his hands. Still, it felt very mundane sometimes. Would it kill the world to give him some excitement once in a damn while.

Just like any other day, Negan and his boys were heading over to Alexandria to collect their offering. Dwight was driving while Negan sat beside him, Lucille rested in between his feet. Negan leaned back in his seat, sighing heavily, “Goddamn. We should just set up camp in Alexandria. Avoid this long ass trip to and from.”

“You didn’t have to come,” Dwight pointed out, “You know I’ve got it handled.”

Negan nodded, “I know ya do, D. But I gotta admit I just love payin’ that asshole, Rick a visit every now and then. I’m just rambling.”

“You’ve been acting…not like yourself lately,” Dwight remarked, “Maybe it’s none of my business but um…everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Negan said with another sigh, “Just bored. I can do whatever I want, I have all those wives to keep me company, and I’m bored. Can you believe that shit? Need something, someone to get me outta this rut.”

“Who knows,” Dwight said, “Every day is so different. But how many people have we run into just running around these roads on a random afternoon? Seems like the rest of the world is pretty much dead.”

“Shit, gettin’ a little dark there,” Negan chuckled. The truck driving in front of Dwight slowly came to a stop as they were rounding the corner and Negan groaned, leaning over to try and get a peek, “What the hell are they stopped for?”

Dwight took the key from the ignition and opened up the car door, “Gonna go find out.”

Negan climbed out after him and started tapping on every vehicle he passed by until he reached the very front. They had stopped in front of a pond where a few of his men and had up to but Negan wasn’t the slightest bit focused on them. He went straight over to Simon, resting Lucille on his shoulder, “You wanna tell me what in the fresh fuck is going on here?”

“I don’t know,” Simon grumbled, “They saw something over by the pond. Told them not to stop, that we’ve got shit to do but they wouldn’t listen. Probably just one of the dead ones or something.”

“Ah hell,” Negan muttered. He turned and headed down the small slope that went down to the pond. His men were leaning over as far as they could without actually getting into the water and he shoved through them, “What the fuck are you looking at?”

“Someone was thrashing all around in there,” one man said, “But I can’t see them now.”

A young woman’s head popped out of the water, gasping for air. She thrashed around in the water, her eyes wide and filled with fear. They were all so surprised to see her come up that they couldn’t grab her in time before she plunged back down. “Holy shit,” Negan gasped. He shoved his bat at the man to his right and threw his jacket down onto the dirt, “Someone’s apparently gotta get off their ass and move!” Negan dove into the water, finding the girl being tugged down by a dead one, though it moved a little slower because it was underwater. The girl was losing consciousness by the time Negan got to her. With no weapons to kill the dead one, Negan simply kicked it and tore the girl from its grip. He brought her up to the surface, inhaling sharply as he was finally able to take a breath. Carrying her dead weight, he swam awkwardly to the shore, laying her soaking wet body down onto the ground.

“Everyone back up!” Negan shouted, “Give us some space!”

“Doesn’t look like she’s breathing,” one of Negan’s men said, placing his hand over the holster that held his knife.

“Don’t you dare,” Negan snapped. He clasped his hands together and pushed down on the center of her chest, pumping rapidly. He took a break from that and tilted the girl’s head back and lifted her chin. Pinching her nose, he covered her mouth with his, and blew. He was surprised by how panicked he was. He shouldn’t care if this complete stranger lived or died but there he was continuing with the CPR. At first it seemed hopeless. He pressed against her chest as many times as he could as hard as he could and he gave her as much air as he could and it seemed he’d lost her.

It all started out as a simple fishing trip. You’d just wanted something to eat tonight as food had been so hard to find. You had been alone these past few weeks and that meant that no one could tell you to watch out when a biter came up behind you. It had surprised you and you slipped into the deeper part of the pond. The biter went with you and sank but it didn’t accomplish this without taking you down with it. You hadn’t even thought to call for help as you hadn’t seen another soul in weeks. The trucks driving by had been quite the shock and you were actually able to cry out once before being pulled down to the bottom of the pond. You caught a glimpse of a dark haired man reaching for you before you blacked out. There was a strange feeling of peace that washed you. Is this what death actually felt like? Everything you ever worried about fading away? No longer caring about the pain of all that you’ve lost, all that you’ve experienced. All that trauma and heartache was gone.

The peace you were feeling was starting to get farther and farther away. Your eyes fluttered open and the first thing you saw was the same dark haired man blowing into your mouth. You pushed him off of you, coughing up a bunch of water that just splashed back into your face. The man helped you sit up, his hand on your back as you continued coughing and hacking, breathing in deeply.

“There she is,” he said, patting your back, “Thought we’d lost you there. How the fuck did you end up in that little predicament.”

“Tried fishing,” you panted, slicking your wet hair back, “Guess I should try other ways of finding food.”

The dark haired man looked over the others that were suddenly surrounding you and he shook his head, “Cancel our little trip. We should take her back to the sanctuary.”

“That won’t be necessary,” you said in between coughs, “I’m fine now.”

“You’re soaking wet and you almost died,” he persisted, “And you’re all alone. You won’t make it alone. Just come with us, won’t you? Just for a little while?”

You sighed, “I will if you tell me your name.”

He smiled and stood up, taking you by the hand and helping you up onto your feet, “The name’s Negan.”

You were slightly startled by all the trucks Negan had with him but you still left with him. It probably wasn’t your smartest move but he had jumped in the water to save you from a biter. He couldn’t be that bad, could he? And not only that, he was offering shelter. And you needed shelter desperately. And food. Seeing the sanctuary overwhelmed you even more. You had gone from being all alone to being in a place overflowing with people. You were sitting in the backseat and Negan was peeking at you through the rearview mirror, picking up on your anxiety.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he said, “Just stick with me. Hey, you never did tell me your name.”

“Y/N,” you replied, “This is…a lot. Oh and I’m sorry you guys had to cancel whatever trip you’d planned.”

“Don’t worry about it, darlin’,” Negan said, “Always can just go back next week.”

Once you were safe behind the gates, Negan had you set up with a room of your own, some food, and a dry, clean change of clothes. You were even able to take a bath and clean the last few weeks off your body. You’d turned the bath water grey but at least you were clean. No one had been this nice to you up to this point. You were fed, warm, and most importantly, safe. Could it get any better than this?

“Y/N?” a voice spoke up from behind the door of your new room, “You decent?”

“Come in,” you called back, taking a seat on your new bed. You fought back the urge to get excited over your bed as the door creaked open and Negan’s large frame stood in the doorway, “Oh, Negan. Hi! How’s it going?”

“I was just about to ask you the same question,” Negan said, “How’re you liking your new setup here?”

“I’m trying not to like this too much,” you said, smoothing out the bedspread, “Feels too good to be true. So unreal, ya know?”

“I hear that,” Negan chuckled, “But get comfortable, Y/N. If you want, this could be your new home. I gotta thank you by the way.”

“Thank me?” you said with a laugh, “For what?”

“Been in such a rut,” Negan said, shrugging, “I had said right before we found you that I needed something exciting to come along. Or someone.”

“So a drowning girl is just what you needed,” you teased. Negan looked a little flustered for the first time after this entire time of being confident and cheeky, “I’m kidding. Well, I was looking for safety and more people and then you came along. So, it would seem that…I dunno, it was fate that we found each other.”

“You think so?”

“What would you call it?”

Negan smiled, kicking his foot and looking down at the ground, “Guess I’d call it fate, wouldn’t I?”

You laughed and stood from your bed. You joined him at the doorway and grasped onto the collar of his leather jacket. You weren’t sure what to expect from your stay here in the sanctuary with Negan. Hell, you didn’t even know much more about Negan other than his name and the rather intriguing baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire that he carried everywhere. But maybe you needed something exciting too.

“You’d have to,” you giggled, “Just ain’t no other explanation. But it looks like we’ve got so much more excitement heading our way, Negan.”

HI IT’S BEEN A WHILE, HOW ARE YA? HOW HAVE YA BEEN? I hope this one shot was okay. It’s been a bit since I wrote a one shot and I’m a little rusty. But anyways, love you guys! Have a good holiday weekend 😊

#The Walking Dead #TWD #The Walking Dead Imagines #TWD Imagines #Negan #Negan Imagines #Negan One shot #Negan fanfiction #TWD One shot #TWD fanfiction #requested

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padfootagain · 7 years ago

Text

Heroes (I)

Part 1 : Real Dreams

I'm sorry. But I'm too obsessed with this show. I can't help it. So here we go, I'm writing for Steve Harrington too from now on. Feel free to send me requests for this character and to ask to be added to his tag list.

This is a little AU, but if you've read a few of my writings you might have noticed that I don't really care about being AU as long as I'm not out of character… I hope you all like it anyway.

As it's my first time at writing for Steve Harrington, I hope it's going to be good. Tell me what you think about it and don't hesitate to tell me if you think that I should change some things about his characterization.

I hope you all like this. This should be a two-parts series, unless you want me to make it longer… I'll post the two parts in a row.

Gif not mine.

Word Count : 3635

You walked out of Hawkins Laboratory. Again. The meetings occured more and more often, as your crisis were more frequent as well these days.

You kicked a stone in frustration, struggling not to shout your lungs out.

No one in this bloody lab believed you.

Since you had managed to escape from the Upside Down a year ago with the help of Joyce Byers and Jim Hopper, you didn't feel fully like yourself. You felt like a part of you was still trapped there…

Just like Will, you had been dragged in this other world that existed next to yours, but unlike Barbara, you had managed to survive. Running blindly through the forest to escape this monster that had captured you, you had fallen upon Will as he hid in his house, and the two of you had tried to survive together from then.

What had happened in the real world while you were trying to survive in this parallel universe had been told to you after you were rescued. The search for Will. The search for you. Nancy and Steve breaking up quickly as he spent all his energy looking for you, and she tried to figure out where Barbara was. Joyce Byers and Jim Hopper walking in the Upside Down to get you and Will back. You felt grateful for such efforts to rescue you, but all you had left from this part of your life was fear and trauma.

And actually… you were certain that it was more than trauma. It felt tangible. When you had these crisis of yours, the world around you suddenly switched from bright and full of life to dark and filled with death. Suddenly, you were not at Hawkins anymore, you were back in this world you tried to run away from. It happened without real reasons. Suddenly you were not there anymore. Suddenly you were back in that giant tomb. And you didn't know how to get out of it.

Dr Owens and his team thought that you were just suffering of a severe form of post-traumatic stress that caused hallucinations that were so vivid that you got confused and took them for reality. But you knew it was more than that. No matter what this bunch of scientists kept on saying, you knew that there was something more to it. The clues were there, obvious, relevant, but somehow, they all chose to ignore those signs.

Will had the same type of crisis, sometimes at the same time as you. And when it happened simultaneously for the two of you, you could see him in the Upside Down. You could talk to him, touch him, he was there, tangible. And he felt the exact same as you. There were all the feelings you felt as well during these crisis. They were strong, real. You could touch things, you could grab things… Your nights were also punctuated by terrifying nightmares, but they felt different. They were vivid, yes, violent for most of them, but they were more… blur as well. Some bits were missing, they were not completely coherent, some pieces didn't fit. But your crisis were flawless. Every one of your actions led to a logical reaction, there was no hole in the events that occurred then. And you couldn't imagine that some things like hallucinations could be so logical.

But no one believed you. Except for Joyce Byers, who was too much worried about her son to ignore the worst theories. And your boyfriend, who trusted you enough to believe whatever you said.

You walked towards the large gate of the lab, the sun warm on your skin despite the cold air, but you couldn't feel the warmth. You were too worried to focus on anything. You didn't even see the road your feet were striding upon, you just let yourself being carried out of the lab out of habits.

You finally were dragged out of your thoughts as you arrived before the metallic gate, and waited for the security guard to open it for you. Down the road, Steve was waiting for you in his car. He waved at you, a warm smile on his lips. You smiled back at him, feeling a bit less desperate at the sight of him.

The two of you had been best friends for years, but your disappearance a year before had shaken something into him. He had changed as a person, growing out of adolescence and leaving his kind of stupid behaviour behind to turn into a more responsible person. But that was not the only change caused by your vanishing. He had suddenly realized that you were more than a friend to him.

Perhaps it was because you had always been here, because it was just that his mind had never dared to imagine such a terrifying thing, but he had never thought that he could ever lose you during all these years of friendship. To him, you were a safe place he knew he could always go to. But then you disappeared, you almost died, and he realized that nothing lasted forever. He woke up from what he now called 'his shithead time' and suddenly realized that he never wanted to lose you again.

If your disappearance woke up his feelings for you, he was careful not to hurry, and you were grateful for the kind gesture. He waited a few more months before confessing his true feelings, waiting for your life to find back a more normal rhythm, waiting for the trauma to partially subside and for your smiles to shine more brightly again. He reckoned that you had enough troubles to deal with before that, you didn't need your best friend to suddenly confess his love for you on top of all that you had been through.

But Steve being by your side had helped you a lot to deal with the trauma. After all, he had fought the Demogorgon, he knew what had really happened to you. It felt so good to be with someone who understood what you had been through, for a part at least.

You climbed inside his car, sitting down on the passenger seat, and you let out a heavy sigh.

"That terrible?" Steve asked with an amused smile and a quirked eyebrow.

"Yeah… useless, as usual."

He nodded slowly, starting the car, and slowly driving towards the town.

"They don't believe you, huh?" he asked, looking at you for a few seconds, before focusing on the road again.

You shook your head.

"They say it's post-traumatic stress. And that… as it's been almost a year, the anniversary coming closer and closer enhances my symptoms. But I know that there's more to it."

He nodded, before reaching for your hand.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked softly.

You could feel your heart swollen with gratefulness. You knew he meant it. He wanted to help. But you also knew that he couldn't.

"I don't think so," you gave him a sad smile. "But you're here, and that's enough to help me feeling better."

He smiled, one of his hand tightly wrapped around your fingers while the other rested loosely onto the wheel.

"What about the kid?" he asked.

"He wasn't there today."

"It's strange that you both have the same… visions."

"I'm pretty sure that we've never been really brought back here. That we're still… connected to that place somehow."

He let out a heavy breath, clearly thinking hard. But there was nothing he could do, he could see no solution to help you escape this damned place.

"Next time you have one of those crisis of yours, if I'm around, you call for me, okay? Because… perhaps I can help you snap out of it, you know?"

You slowly nodded.

"Okay, I will."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"Do you feel like going to school today? Or we could… not go there," he proposed.

You rolled your eyes.

"Don’t use me as an alibi to miss class."

"Hey! I just want to help here!"

"I can go to school. On the contrary. It'll keep my head busy."

"Sure?"

"Yeah, I'll be okay."

"I'll probably get out of basketball late tonight," he said. "Will you be okay?"

"I'll wait for you," you nodded. "Is Hargrove still giving you a hard time?"

Steve shrugged, but you knew better.

"You don't like that guy," you added.

"He has his eyes on you. So no, I don't like him."

You smiled as Steve parked the car before the school. It was almost time for your first class to begin, but you didn't mind arriving a bit late. You wanted to stay with Steve for a bit longer.

You lifted your hand to his cheek, and he turned to you again, as the sound of the engines died out.

"I'm not interested. I already have a boyfriend."

He smiled.

"And a very good one!"

You laughed.

"Now… don't get ahead of yourself, Harrington!"

He chuckled.

"Should I feel worried then?" he joked.

But you shook your head, unfastening your seatbelt so you could lean towards him.

"I love you, you idiot."

He smiled.

"I love you too, you reckless arse."

But instead of kissing you, he frowned slightly, staring right at you. And his voice sounded like he was making a promise he intended never to break.

"I won't let anything take you away from me again, Y/N."

You leaned further and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

"I know. I'm counting on it," you smiled. "And I intend to keep you all for myself too."

You both chuckled.

"I knew you were possessive," he joked, making you giggle.

He brushed a lock of your hair away from your face, his gaze gentle as it rested on your eyes again.

"Just… don't leave me again. Deal, Y/L/N?"

"Deal, Harrington."

This time, he was the one to capture your lips in a loving kiss.

And you both definitely arrived late to your first class…

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

It was strange to walk through a deserted High School. It was late already, and classes were all over. Only a few boys were left, playing basketball in the gymnasium. Steve was one of them. You had waited for him, watching the game, and raging against Hargrove again. Now though, you were left alone, pacing up and down the corridor next to the gymnasium, waiting for Steve to get a shower and take you home.

You hummed softly to yourself, the sound of your voice echoing in the empty corridor. Your footsteps sounded louder than usual as well, the only movements disturbing the silence. You heaved a sigh, hoping that Steve would soon be here.

Above your head the neon lights faltered for a second.

You looked down at your watch.

But you didn't read the time.

Your eyes grew round as the lights above you went out altogether, leaving you in a dark world filled with cotton like particles that got caught in your hair like snowflakes. You recognized this oppressive feeling over your chest, as if it was suddenly harder for you to breathe. The air burnt your lungs, you recognized the poisoned atmosphere.

And when you looked up again, everything was covered with grey and shadows, dark plants covering the walls.

You were back in Hell…

You took a few deep breaths, trying to slow down your heart that was now rushing with fear.

You gathered enough air in your lungs to shout as loudly as you could.

"STEVE!"

You fell silent, listening closely to the sounds around you. But the world was silent.

"STEVE!"

Again you were met by nothing but the echoes of your own voice and a heavy silence.

"STEVE!"

Nothing.

You closed your eyes tightly until your eyelids turned white. Perhaps if you shut your eyes tightly enough, it would all disappear, as if you woke up from a nightmare.

But when you lifted your eyelids once more, it was to see the long plants growing on the walls of your school.

And Steve was not here.

You felt tears stinging your eyes and blurring your sight. Your heart was pounding but you couldn't slow it down. You were too scared for that.

You were trapped once more, and you didn't know how to escape…

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

Steve ran out of the shower. He ignored the two other boys who laughed at him for hurrying to his girlfriend as he charged through the changing room, grabbing his shirt and struggling to put his trousers on despite his hurry. You shouted his name a second time, and he pushed the door open, hurrying in the corridor.

"Y/N!" he called, running to you.

He stopped right before you, still wet from the shower, traces of shampoo lingering in his messy hair, his shirt still in his hand for now.

Tommy and Hargrove walked out of the changing room too, still laughing. They were both shirtless as well, and were drying their hair with white towels.

"What's with your girlfriend, Steve? Getting mental again?" Tommy laughed.

But the look Steve threw at him made his laugh die in his throat.

"Don't you dare, Tommy," Steve warned him.

He turned to you again, as you shouted his name again. You seemed completely panicked.

"Y/N! I'm right here!" he said.

He waved his hand before your eyes, but you didn't follow his movement, staring through him as if… as if you couldn't see him…

"Oh fuck…" he breathed.

Finally, their coach walked into the corridor.

"What's going on here?" he asked.

"You have to call for Hopper!" Steve urged his teacher.

"What?!"

"Y/N is not well, she needs help. Call for Hopper. Ask specifically for Hopper. Tell him that she's having a crisis, he'll understand."

"I'm sure a bit of fresh air will be enough and we do not need to call the chief of the police dep…"

"DO IT!" Steve roared.

He was shaking from head to toe by now. He knew you were stuck in this world all over again, and he didn't know how to help you.

"Just do it! She's been like this before. Trust me, it's serious!" he told his teacher, who mumbled something under his breath, but walked to reach the phone anyway.

"No need to linger here, boys," he told Hargrove and Tommy before disappearing in search of the phone, but the two adolescents didn't move an inch.

Steve turned to you once more. He saw you closing tightly your eyes, and when you opened them again, they were filled with tears.

"Y/N… babe, come on… Can you hear me?" he asked.

He raised his hand to touch your arm, but was interrupted as Will Byers stormed into the corridor, calling for you.

You turned towards the child, frowning hard.

"Will!" you breathed, bending to hold him in your arms.

"It's happening again!" the boy breathed, his voice shaking with panic and fear filling his eyes.

"What the hell is happening?" Billy Hargrove asked, an amused smile on his lips before the show.

"I know, buddy," you tried to reassure him, stroking soothingly his hair and holding him close to you. "I know. But it's gonna be okay. I'm here."

"Hey! Y/N!" Steve raised his voice, trying to get you out of your trance.

The sound of children's voices reached the little group, and Steve was not surprised to find Lucas, Dustin and Mike hurrying towards them. He heaved a sigh, rubbing the edge of his nose. As if he didn't have enough on his plate already…

"Steve!?" Dustin called, struggling to catch his breath, as his friends and him had clearly been running to the gymnasium, following Will. "Why are you… not wearing a shirt?"

"I was taking a shower," Steve explained.

"Why do you have shampoo in your hair?" Lucas asked as well.

"Weren't you listening? I was taking a shower."

"Yeah but…"

"I was taking a shower, but Y/N called for me. So I didn't finish to wash my hair and tried to help her instead!"

He looked at you and Will again.

"They're having a crisis again, right?" Mike asked softly, looking up at Steve with worry painted all over his features.

Steve nodded.

"Yeah, looks like it. I've asked a teacher to call for Hopper. Hopefully, he'll know what to do."

"But if it's some kind of… hallucination… can't we just… wake them up? Like… from a nightmare?" Lucas asked.

"What do you think I've been trying to do since she called, smartass?" Steve asked back.

"Have you tried to shake them?" Dustin asked.

He didn't wait for an answer and grabbed you with one hand and Will with the other, and tried to shake the two of you. But somehow, he couldn't move any of you at all.

"What the hell?!" he cursed, letting go.

"Y/N keeps on saying that it's not just post-traumatic stress," Steve breathed. "That she's still… there."

Steve and the three children exchanged worried glances. Behind them, Tommy and Hargrove were starting to get annoyed.

"I don't know what kind of scene you all are trying to make, but it's boring, King Steve," Hargrove yawned, walking away, closely followed by Tommy.

Steve exhaled loudly, but didn't reply. You needed him now, he would deal with Billy Hargrove later. For now, he finally put his shirt on, before resting his hand on your shoulder.

"Babe, can you hear me? You have to come back now," he said soflty, shaking you gently, like he would do to wake you up when you overslept and needed to go to school.

But you didn't answer him, you shook your head instead, answering to Will.

"Yeah well… Out of the question. This place sucks. I'm not setting a foot there ever again."

The little boy in your arms smiled at the joke.

"It's gonna be okay," you reassured him.

"The party was with me," Will said. "Do you think they followed me?"

"Not here," you shook your head again.

"Do you think that they will find something to bring us back?"

You nodded.

"I was with Steve. He's… they're all going to find out something. Like the first time."

Steve felt tears wetting his eyes, and he shook you a bit more violently, becoming frantic with all this frustration that made his blood boil.

"Y/N! I'm right here! Wake up! BABY!"

You frowned slightly, and seemed to turn towards him. You narrowed your eyes, as if your eyes searched for his.

"Y/N, can you hear me?" he asked again.

You narrowed your eyes even more, but didn't seem to distinguish anything…

But then he felt you tensing under his touch. In your arms, Will turned around, horror covering his face, his eyes wide with fear.

And when your gaze followed Will's, Steve read the same horror in your gaze…

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

"It's happening again!"

"I know, buddy. I know. But it's gonna be okay. I'm here."

You held the boy tightly in your arms. You tried to make your voice sound reassuring, but you were shaking with fear from head to toe. Steve had not answered your call, and it was just one more proof that you were right. You had been right all along.

This was real.

It wasn't simply a dream, and yet, you knew somehow that you were still connected to Hawkins. Perhaps it was not completely reality either. Perhaps it was something in the middle…

… like a real dream…

"What do we do, Y/N?" Will asked, trembling in your arms.

"I… I'm thinking," you cleared your throat to fight the lump that was starting to form there. "I'm thinking of a plan, buddy. Give me a minute."

"Dr… Dr Owens says it's in our heads."

But you shook your head.

"No, Will. I don't think it's just an illusion."

"Bob… said that it was just like a nightmare. And we had to force it to go away."

"I don't think it's that easy. I think there's something more."

"Like… As if it wanted us back?"

You nodded slowly.

"Yeah well… Out of the question. This place sucks. I'm not setting a foot there ever again."

Will gave you a weak smile.

"It's gonna be okay," you reassured him.

"The party was with me. Do you think they followed me?"

"Not here," you shook your head again.

"Do you think that they will find something to bring us back?"

This time, you nodded.

"I was with Steve. He's… they're all going to find out something. Like the first time."

But then, a hushed sound reached your ear. It wasn't something frightening though, more… like a whisper. Or more precisely, as if someone far away was shouting, and all you could catch was a whisper. It wasn't loud enough for you to understand the words that were spoken, but you were not afraid of it. It was reassuring, on the contrary. You turned towards the source of the noise, but could only see a wall. You tried to narrow your eyes, but there was nothing.

The whisper came back, but again, you couldn't understand, you tried to narrow your eyes even more, focusing hard.

But another sound echoed through the corridor, and this one made your freeze. You felt every single one of your muscles tensing, a shiver running down your spine.

You looked down the corridor, knowing Will was looking in that direction as well.

You saw the monster slowly walking through the empty space. It didn't seem to have noticed you yet. It looked like the Demogorgon, but instead of standing like a man, it was walking on all fourth like a dog. You could recognize the same faceless head though, the large mouth opening in four pieces and ready to swallow anything.

And then, the beast turned towards you…

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