#like i run my hand through it once and a literal clump is falling out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fandom-monium · 4 years ago

Text

For the Holidays

Summary: In which Spencer does not want to go to his high school reunion, but you tagging along changes things. “You doubting my skills, Dr. Reid?”

WC: 2.1k

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fake-dating trope, pining (so much pining), Morgan trying to be a good big bro (and wingman)

Spencer Reid does not hate Christmas.

“Reid, come on⎼”

“No.”

“Just listen to me.”

“I did, and it’s a stupid idea.”

No, really. Because hating Christmas would imply he didn’t care. Which he does.

Like when Garcia never fails to drag him into decorating the bullpen every year. Obnoxious Christmas music plays in the background as they bomb Hotch’s office, and it’s worth the smile on his face when he walks in the next morning.

It would mean hating Rossi and his extravagant dinner parties. And yeah, he always hosts but these are just as special if not more so. His mansion is decked in fairy lights and streamers, the food are traditional holiday recipes, and the whole place seems a little less massive.

And he doesn’t hate his breaks. He nearly spits out his coffee when Morgan grumbles about how he almost tripped and fell over from the ice. He has to scramble away as the older man bats at him.

Or when Prentiss drops off holiday-themed pastries? Mhm, just thinking of the ribbon-tied box makes him salivate.

Hating the Christmas card is completely out of the question. Henry and Michael make them every year for the entire team, and JJ makes an effort to shake them out carefully for. It has a boyish charm Spencer never had at their age, a mess of glitter and construction paper. He displays it on his desk anyway.

And you. It would mean hating all the various hot chocolate beverages you’ve made since December started.

Apparently, it’s serious business⎼the art of hot chocolate making. You’ve leaned against his desk, hands waving about as you try to articulate to him the relevance, going over anything and everything you can remember of its history and significance. Of course, he knows all of this already, but he likes you too much to stop you. He almost releases a loving sigh. Instead, he settles for nodding and grinning at you, and he doesn’t really get it but he loves it: the hot chocolate, your pensive expression as you await his critique, even though by now he’s sure you know he has no other comments except ‘delicious’.

He loves it all. He loves you⎼all of you guys. Obviously.

So, no. He does not hate Christmas.

But that doesn’t mean he loves it either.

Which is why, when Morgan leans against his desk, he greets him as normal, a smile forming on his lips as he sets his book down. There is no danger here, except Morgan’s guns. And the heinous green and red envelope between his fingers⎼

Where the hell did he get that.

Spencer’s blood froze. His collection of trauma was nothing compared to this.

Now here he is, packing away his things so he can go home to his warm, cozy apartment and order takeout like he does every year. He's not one for change. No need to break tradition.

But Morgan is acting like a child. Wait, no, even children are better behaved than this. Children at least give up faster.

“I’m telling you, it’s a good idea.”

“As a certified genius, I can say with all honesty, it is not.”

“I promise you it’ll be fine,” Morgan reassures him, voice soothing. The letter, colorful and bright and an eye sore, mocks Spencer. He wishes his reflexes were faster, so he can snatch the abhorrent cluster of sparkles and poorly printed holiday cartoons. And shred it.

Maybe if he glares hard enough, it’ll burst into flames.

“Morgan, my class hated me. The whole school hated me,” Spencer shoves another book into his satchel. It's harder than he means to, and he sends a silent apology to Stephen King; he usually handles his books with care. But not right now. Now, he's tired and exasperated and he just wants to curl up on his couch with The Doctor. "I'm sure I won't be missed."

"But you’re the life of the party!"

Spencer looks up.

Morgan winces, "Yeah, even I wouldn't believe me.” Spencer snorts, continuing to stuff his belongings into his satchel. Morgan’s relentless however. “But you deserve to show them up. You’ve got degrees⎼plural⎼and you're a hotshot FBI agent.”

“Are you not aware of the tragedy that is my high school social experience?”

“Oh, I'm very aware, and thank you for being vulnerable with me. But it's because I care that I’m telling you.”

Morgan’s hand falls heavy on his shoulder, making Spencer pause. He meets his gaze, the man’s expression solemn.

“You deserve to rub it in their faces until the only thing they can smell is your success.”

Morgan grins when that draws out a laugh from him.

Spencer huffs, “Shouldn't we be the bigger person here by not going?”

The older man grimaces, retracting his hand as if the idea offends him. “Fuck that. Be a show off! They deserve to be knocked down a peg after what they did to you in high school.”

Spencer bites his lip. Yes, he’s accomplished, and yeah, as Morgan said, he’s a ‘hot shot FBI agent’. But the memories surge in like a broken dam, cruel laughter and harsh words crashing into him as if he’s twelve years old again. He’s an adult now, so he doesn’t topple over from the impact like before, but the pain is a phantom limb, old and familiar, and leaves a pit in his stomach.

He was a child prodigy then. How would going back as he is now be any different?

Morgan's heart clenches when an unspoken pain flits across Spencer’s face, glossing over his eyes. He can't imagine how deep the emotional scars go, but he knows Spencer needs some form of closure from his past. So when he found the invite, he knew they had to seize the chance. If he wants to continue to move forward, Spencer has to learn to let go. And right now, this is his first class ticket. It’s why he’s pushing this so hard.

This is for Spencer.

But the doctor shakes his head, a strained smile tugging his lips. “Morgan, I had no friends. Even if I go, what am I supposed to do once I arrive? It'd be awkward enough as is.”

“True,” The older man contemplates, a light bulb going off as he snaps his fingers. “You know what you should do? Ask (Your Name) to go with you.”

“(Your Name)?” Spencer jolts, fumbling to catch his phone. Despite being a man of science, his eyes dart around, like you’re a demon summoned at the mention of your name. “Wha-what? Why?”

“They could act as your buffer. And you did say you wanted to be closer with them. This is the perfect opportunity,” Morgan shrugs. Like his suggestion is common sense, logical. Maybe it is.

But this is you they’re talking about. You would never. You’re too cool for a silly high school reunion.

At least, that’s what he’s convinced himself as Spencer’s face pinches. He catches his lip with his teeth. “Morgan, I appreciate the… thought, but I could never ask (Your Name).”

“Ask me what?”

… Oh no. You are a demon.

Spencer whirls around in time to see the glass door shut behind you. You stand there in all your poise and beauty, the fluorescent lights softening your expression. You're bundled up in a matching coat and scarf, the knitted beanie snug on your crown and clashing with your outfit (Garcia told you it’s not your Christmas present, but you’ve worn it everyday since). There’s sprinkles of snow all over you.

You’re not a demon, Spencer decides, even as you brush a clump off your shoulder, nose scrunched in annoyance. More like a snow angel.

You tilt your head curiously when Spencer doesn’t answer immediately. There’s a knowing look on his face as Morgan, realizing the poor guy probably won’t respond any time soon, steps up.

“(Your Name), I thought you went home already.”

You cross the bullpen. “I was. Garcia walked me down and I got to the courtyard. Then I realized she had me so distracted that I left my phone charger,” You rummage around your desk and without looking up, you reiterate, “So ask me what?”

Spencer blinks. “What?”

“You had something to ask me, right?”

Right. That. He runs his fingers through his hair awkwardly. “Actually, I don’t⎼oof.”

Morgan jabs his side, “Yes, there is something Reid needs to ask you.” He sends him a meaningful look.

“Shoot.” You nod to them before rifling through your desk drawers. Nope, not there. You card through files and office supplies, oblivious to the conversation Spencer and Morgan have with their eyes, shooting looks and mouthing at each other.

You bend over your desk as Morgan gestures, Ask them!

Spencer shakes his head vigorously, No!

Do it, or I'll do it for you, he mouths.

Spencer squints at him. You wouldn't.

Morgan smirks and Spencer's heart drops to his stomach. Before he can run, shout for help, literally anything, the man slings a buff arm around his shoulders, forcing Spencer to slightly bend down to his level, hugging him to his side.

He's trapped. Stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Fuck.

“Reid is going to his high school reunion,” Morgan starts, biting back a grin when the nerd squirms against him. Both men boys watch, one excited and the other petrified as you disappear behind your desk.

“That’s nice.”

"Yeah. But all his classmates are older than him and married…“

“Uh-huh…” You scan the dark floors, half-listening as Spencer frowns at the unnecessary detail. He never told Morgan such a thing. He didn’t even know, so how would Morgan-?

“So, can you guys pretend to be a couple or something?”

Thud.

“What!?”

Luckily, neither of you notice the other’s surprise as Spencer chokes on air at the same time you let out a pained hiss.

Morgan lets him pull away, withholding a snicker. “You good, (Your Name)?”

“I’m okay!” Your head pops up from under your desk as you rub the top of your head. You blink owlishly. “I’m sorry, did you just ask me to pretend to be your partner?”

“Yes! But Reid’s partner,” Morgan emphasizes, slapping the doctor’s back hard enough he nudges forward.

You stand and Spencer straightens up, trying not to fidget as your gaze burns into his. You’ve known each other for quite some time now, and while Spencer likes to think he knows you pretty well, it bothers him when your expression becomes unreadable. He knows it shouldn't but it does. He’s a profiler, yet your thoughts are completely obscured by a mask. It only makes him more nervous than he already is.

His skin feels hot when your eyes trail over him, and he prays his scarf is enough to cover the flush spreading from his neck.

He's about to disintegrate when you finally answer.

"Okay."

His brow shoots up and his heart flips. You move away from your desk as he sputters, "Really? Are⎼are you sure? I don’t want to put you out of your way.”

“I wouldn’t have agreed otherwise. Why?” You step closer, and he can’t breathe, not without it hitting your face. You stare him down the bridge of your nose, eyes narrowed. “You doubting my skills, Dr. Reid?”

“What? No, of course not!”

You raise an eyebrow expectantly. “Then it’s settled? We’ll pretend to be a couple for your reunion thing?"

A beat of silence. Spencer realizes you're waiting for his confirmation. But panic rises like bile in his throat and he hesitates.

Maybe he should back out now, retract the entire conversation and take the embarrassment like a man. Tell you he was never planning to attend the stupid reunion because his classmates were (and probably still are) assholes. Honesty is key to any relationship after all.

Especially between coworkers. Ahem.

A flicker of movement and Spencer glances over your shoulder. Morgan nods frantically at him, teeth flashing as he grins wider than before. He gives him two thumbs up.

Maybe, for once, he should pull a Morgan and just vibe it.

Yeah. Yeah!

Swallowing, he nods to you, giving you his signature white-person smile because he's sure if he speaks he might blurt out something completely inappropriate. Like statistics on workplace relationships (they’re great reading material, okay).

Your lips quirk up. "Cool. Text me the details when you get the chance.”

You brush past him before he manages a reply, your footsteps fading. Morgan waggles his eyebrows at Spencer. Spencer blankly stares after you.

“What just happened?”

“You just got a date to your reunion. A fake date, mind you, but you’re welcome nonetheless,” Morgan smirks at him. “So, you got a plan, Pretty Boy?”

His face falls, and the hearts in his eyes⎼shit, had they always been there?⎼chip slightly.

He does not have a plan.

Deleted scene:

“Did you do it?”

“It went all according to plan, Mama.”

AN: I fucked myself over and wrote 7k+ and still counting. Now it’s an unplanned holiday mini series. This kind of stems from Bonding as this uses Mysterious!Reader. Also, I seem to be into pining (fuck established relationships, suffer in silenceee). Whatever holiday you celebrate, I hope you still enjoy this one shot!!

One of the biggest disappointments of CM: Spencer doesn’t confront his high school bullies. I read several fics of him doing so, but a lot of them have the bullies be just as much of an asshole as they were to him in the past, but he deserves more closure.

This will be my take on it. It’ll be a lot of pining but I hope to focus on the his hardships in a less angsty, dramatic way.

Hope you enjoy it!! There will be at least 3 parts?

Also, spread the usage of the term ‘partner’, which can be used for same-sex and opposite-sex relationships.

#spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #mgg x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x oc #mgg fanfiction #mgg imagine #mgg fic #my writing #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x oc #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds

624 notes · View notes

uvobreakmylegs · 4 years ago

Text

Hypnagogia

Warnings: kidnapping, graphic depictions of violence, death

The years of harsh training that he had received since he was a child ensured that Illumi could never fall into a truly deep sleep. It was something all of the Zoldyck children had learned, to be aware of their surroundings even while resting. Falling asleep completely would leave him vulnerable to a potential attack. Vulnerability was weakness, and when one came from a family of assassins who were open about their occupation, one could not afford weakness; one needed to be ready for any potential enemies that were competent enough to get past the mountain gate and the host of butlers in their employ.

So even as Illumi slept with you curled up by his side in bed, there was still a part of him that was awake and taking note of everything.

The sound of your steady breathing.

The way the moving air made the curtains flutter against each other.

The noises of the wildlife that came alive at night in the woods beyond the mansion.

Even the distant sounds of the servants in the hallways as they worked through the night.

At one point you shifted in your sleep, turning over so that you faced him, your hand grasping the fabric of his nightshirt and resting on his chest. He tightened his grip around you, holding you close while still staying asleep.

Things were as they should be.

When you woke up some time later he didn't react. Nor did he react when you sat up, pulling away from him as you left the bed. This was unusual, but not unusual enough to rouse himself from sleep to confront you. You got upset when he demanded an explanation for your every action, even if he had good reason to do so.

Your reason for leaving the bed appeared to be an innocent one as he heard your soft footsteps make their way to the bathroom, the door slowly closing shut as you tried not to make a lot of noise.

Illumi continued to sleep while waiting patiently for you, anticipating the feeling of your warm body against his when you would return and fall asleep next to him again.

The sounds of the toilet flushing and the running water from the sink echoed against the porcelain surfaces in the bathroom. You would be back soon, and Illumi would be content to have you in his arms again.

He waited for you.

And waited.

…....

…. Something wasn't right.

That feeling woke him fully, his black eyes opening as he sat up in bed, looking towards the bathroom door. The light from the bathroom still shone beneath the door, but he could sense that you were no longer in there.

He had made his way over to the door in a matter of seconds, throwing it open to find exactly what he had been expecting: an empty bathroom and you nowhere in sight.

A small window near the ceiling caught his attention. It was wide open, and though it was a fairly high off of the tiled floor and the ground outside, it wouldn't have been impossible for you to have gotten out that way.

Illumi let out a small sigh as he turned and made his way to one of the side doors within his wing of the house that lead to the outside. No need to risk one of the butlers seeing him and then reporting this incident back to his parents. He had no desire for another lecture from his mother on training you “properly.”

You'd been doing so well recently, and you hadn't tried to escape in months. He had truly thought you had given up on the idea and that you had accepted your role as his wife.

Once he caught you it would be back to training again, and he would take however long he needed to drill it into you that there were no other options: you were his, and your place was here on Kukuroo Mountain.

The wildlife in the forest grew silent as he left the mansion and began his descent down the mountainside. It was easy to spot where nature had been disturbed: small branches that had snapped and clumps of dirt that had been kicked up leaving him a trail to follow. He couldn't help but muse on how the results of your training were showing through. Though the trail was there, it was less obvious than the ones you had left on your previous escape attempts. You were more aware of your surroundings and knew better on how to leave with virtually no trace behind. He would have been proud of you if not for the circumstances. Why couldn't you put these skills to use for the sake of him and his family?

He continued down the mountain, following your path. He had yet to come across you at all, and his brows furrowed the longer he continued. Your skills had grown since you had come here, but he knew from experience that you could not outrun him. He should have found you by now. So why hadn't he?

Had you somehow tricked him?

Did you make this path as a decoy while you attempted to leave down another side of the mountain?

It was certainly possible that you would have known you wouldn't be able to surpass him physically and had attempted to outwit him to buy yourself enough time. If this was the case, he would need to make sure that the lessons he taught after capturing you would stay with you so you would never try this again.

Illumi was about to head back up the mountain to see where he had gone wrong in following you when he noticed something in a particular patch of soft dirt. Multiple sets of footprints heading down the mountain, none of which could have belonged to you.

More tricks? Perhaps accomplices of yours? Or.....?

Illumi sprinted past, descending the mountain as he searched for you, still following the path that he now realized may not have been left by you. There were possibilities in his mind as to what had happened, but it was better now to ignore them and focus on finding you.

He was almost at the base of the mountain when he spotted something.

Three black-clad figures in one of the lower gardens, two women and a man. And there you were, unceremoniously slung over the man's shoulder as the three of them ran. It was clear you were unconscious.

The three sensed him then, stopping beneath a pristine gazebo as they turned to face him. The terror was evident in their stiff forms when their eyes landed on him. Getting caught wasn't something they had accounted for. Perhaps they would have gotten away if it had been literally anyone other than a member of the Zoldyck family hunting them down.

Your limbs hung limply as the man held you, only swaying lightly when he pulled out a sword and pointed it at Illumi, the women with him following suit.

All the while Illumi stood there, silently assessing the situation before he came to a conclusion.

“Were you trying to kidnap my wife?”

The three tensed at the question, their auras flaring as they anticipated an attack. Illumi remained relaxed, even cocking his head to the side slightly as he asked “am I correct?”

After a bit of hesitation, the man nodded.

Illumi couldn't help the smile that formed (which only served to put the intruders more on edge).

“That's a relief,” he said, sighing, “I was worried she was trying to get away again. I'm glad that wasn't the case this time.”

“You.... You're glad we tried to take her?” one of the women asked.

As quickly as it had come, the smile on Illumi's face faded away, his aura flaring and engulfing the three of them.

“Of course not,” he said, his tone far more grave now.

“The fact that people like you would even think of touching her is unacceptable.”

The intruders were skilled enough, and had enough sense to know that an attack from him was imminent. As Illumi burst forward, needles in hand, the man threw you to the woman at the back, yelling at her to run. The other woman was too slow in raising her sword to block Illumi's first strike and a needle entered her skull and burst out through the other side, lodging itself in the stone pillar of the gazebo as she fell to the ground dead.

The man fared only a bit better, managing to block the needle thrown at him and running forward to swing his sword in an attempt to take Illumi's head. It was easily dodged, and Illumi threw four more needles at him, three of which hit their marks and leaving the man to join his fallen companion.

The last one hadn't gotten far, the other two having only been able to buy her mere seconds before Illumi turned his attention to her. She was carrying you on her back, effectively using you as a body shield as you obscured her vitals. There were a few ways in which he could strike the needle through you to kill her and only leave you with minor damage, but he rejected them. These people weren't worth making you go through any sort of pain.

He sent six needles flying towards her legs, embedding themselves from the back of her knee down to her ankle with three on each leg and making her cry out as she fell forward. She lost her grip on you and you fell to the side of her, the terrain making you roll away slightly. The woman was still trying to fight, but her attempts to pull out any weapons she could use to throw at him were quashed when he threw two more of his needles, these one stabbing through her wrists. She cried out as the nen in his needles worked through her, intentionally causing her pain.

But at the moment she wasn't important. Illumi brought his attention back to you, walking to where you lay and kneeling to examine you. There was minimal damage to you, some scrapes along your arms and legs where the branches in the forest had brushed against you. The worst of it was at the base of you neck where a bruise was beginning to form, the size and shape of the mark a clear indicator that this was where they had hit you to knock you out. Aside from that, you appeared to be fine, and Illumi allowed himself another small smile as he picked up your fallen form and held you bridal style.

The woman was now attempting to crawl away, her hands and feet tearing up the grass of the garden while the needles impaired her movement. The last of the intruders was taken care of with a flick of his wrist and a needle in the back of her skull.

His walk back up to the family home was brisk, and instead of heading for the side door to his quarters as he had originally intended, he went towards the main entrance instead. Even from his current position he could sense the activity from the mansion; someone had noticed that something had been amiss and had raised the alarm. Better to go in through the front and order whatever servants were there to clean up the bodies he had left in the gardens. That way he could have you back in the safety of his room that much faster.

What he hadn't expected was to see Silva standing at the mansion's entrance, Tsubone and Amane standing a few feet behind him. Silva glanced down at your unconscious form in Illumi's arms, a single brow raising.

“What is it this time?” he asked as Illumi made his way inside.

“Nothing that was her fault.”

A look of mild surprise settled on his face as Illumi continued “intruders found their way up here and tried to make off with her.”

“Did you find out how they got in?”

“They weren't talking.”

“Hmm.”

Silva sounded as though he didn't believe Illumi on that last part, but he made no move to stop him as his eldest son walked back to his wing of the house. Even if Silva (rightfully) believed that Illumi had made no effort to get any information from the intruders, there was little to be done about it now.

“Tell mother that her favorite garden is largely intact,” Illumi called back.

His father made another noise of disapproval, but ultimately decided to drop the matter.

“Tsubone,” Illumi heard Silva say.

“Yes, master Silva.”

“Get those bodies off of my mountain.”

Illumi tuned out whatever words were said next. As far as he was concerned, the matter no longer involved him. His focus was now on you and your well-being. From looking over you earlier, he knew that physically, you'd be fine. The slight injuries you had received would be gone in no time, but he was going to keep you by his side as much as possible for the next few days. He would just need to make it clear that this time it wasn't being done as a punishment. As he had said to his father, you weren't at fault for anything that had happened tonight. The most that could be blamed on you was the fact that you had been captured so easily, but that was a fault that was also on him; that he somehow hadn't been able to sense the presence of those intruders when they snatched you from the bathroom. There was room for improvement for both of you, and Illumi was content to work towards that as long as you were by his side.

After closing the window in the bathroom and changing you into clean nightclothes, Illumi pulled you back under the covers with him, arranging you so your head was resting against his chest while he wrapped his arms around you again. He was sleeping again shortly after.

If anyone was to walk in on the two of you, they wouldn't have suspected that the events of the last hour had happened at all.

When you awoke next Illumi woke with you, and he watched as you reached for the back of your neck, lightly touching the tender spot where you'd been hit.

“I-Illumi?” you asked, trying to find his face in the dark.

“Yes?”

“Did.... Did something happen?”

“You don't remember?”

You shook your head.

“You were attacked by intruders who tried to take you from me,” Illumi explained, “I chased them down and took you back.”

“Ah. I see,” you said, resting your head back down on his chest. You didn't bother asking what had happened to the intruders; the answer was easy enough to figure out.

The conversation seemed as though it had ended, and Illumi was waiting for you to go back to sleep before he did so himself. Outside in the mansion, the activity he had sensed on his way back up had died down as well. Tonight's little disturbance had ended, and everyone was more than willing to move past it.

“Illumi?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” you said, “sorry for getting caught.”

Illumi's eyes widened slightly at your words. He wasn't sure what exactly he had expected from you, but it wasn't that.

“I would be a terrible husband if I abandoned my wife so easily.”

You hummed in response, closing your eyes as you settled yourself on top of him. Illumi watched silently, repeating your words in his head and mulling them over. Before you could go back to sleep again, he got your attention by speaking your name.

“Do you love me?” he asked when you looked back to him.

“...... Yeah.”

It had taken a few seconds too long for you to reply, and the answer itself was not wholly satisfying. He had been hoping for a straightforward “yes”. Certainly by now he had proved that he cared for you.

Nothing more was said between you two, and you finally fell back into your slumber. As Illumi fell back to sleep himself, he reminded himself that you had thanked him unprompted, and had even apologized for your shortcomings. The matter of you loving him was unsatisfactory, but something was going right for your relationship. It was merely something else that could be worked on when the morning came.

As you fell back into your deep sleep state, that part of Illumi that always stayed awake remained aware of everything about you. The sound of your breathing as it stayed in a steady pattern, the feel of your weight against him, and the way you would shift in your sleep, at times attempting to pull away from him. Every time that happened, he would pull you back to him. Even asleep, he would make sure to keep you by his side always.

#reader insert #illumi zoldyck #illumi x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere hxh

870 notes · View notes

delimeful · 4 years ago

Text

taking the fall (3)

warnings: imprisonment, interrogation, injury, mild blood, panic and sensory overload, dehumanizing language, ambiguous motives, morally neutral/antagonistic janus, snakes mention

His guest wasn’t eating.

Janus cast an irritated glance over to the terrarium, where the only “life” that could be seen was a clump of thick foliage in one corner.

He’d left the old fake plants in there as a taunt, but as soon as the tiny creature had ascertained that there were no snakes in the grass, they’d immediately bundled every bit of shiny plastic greenery into a makeshift nest and hid within it. He supposed he should have expected it, from one as industrious as these tiny folk all seemed to be.

Regardless of his guest’s reticence, he’d been setting small dishes of food in there whenever he himself took his meals, giving them some time to adjust to the reality of their situation. It had been a couple of days, however, and every miniature entree looked entirely untouched.

His prisoner seemed to be on a hunger strike.

It added more evidence to his theory that he was being misled in regards to his guest’s identity. If they were actually a victim in all this, why bother keeping quiet and refusing to give the answers Janus needed? Why go so far as to not even eat, for people who allegedly wouldn’t care if he lived or died?

No, things made much more sense if this was a gambit on the tiny people’s part, one of them volunteering to stay and play sacrificial lamb, distracting him for as long as the others needed. Their terror, their injury, their tiny bitter laugh, it could all be part of a ploy for pity on his end. Get him too invested in a puzzling prisoner while the others escaped.

The thought made his stomach drop unpleasantly. His opponents were exceedingly small, and he was one of the few who knew they existed. If they got away, he’d never see them again.

He couldn’t afford that.

Pushing his chair back, he approached the terrarium, casting an assessing eye over the food set out in it. Some of it could sit out, and had been there overnight, the best time for his guest to eat without risking even seeing Janus. But no. Not a single crumb out of place to indicate that anything had been eaten.

“Still alive?” he asked dryly, rapping a knuckle on the glass once.

There was a long pause, and then one of the leafy stems sticking out from the nest twitched twice. This daily question and response was the only communication he’d had with his guest since that first afternoon, and even this small, silent answer had originally been prompted by a threat of Janus reaching in there and checking himself.

“I notice that you’ve been refusing any sustenance,” he continued idly, and got nothing for his efforts. “Planning to die before you can give up any secrets?”

No response. Janus sighed as though put upon, and slid the terrarium lid halfway off. There were still no meaningful movements from the nest, though it seemed to be subtly trembling. It was impressive that despite the dark clothing that his guest wore, he still couldn’t make out exactly where they were even this close.

With narrowed eyes, he reached in and grabbed a few of the plastic leaves, tugging to pull the construction apart bit by bit.

He only caught the faintest flicker of movement before there was a sudden sharp pain in his index finger, and he yanked his hand back on reflex.

A weight came up with it, putting even more pressure on his wound, and it dropped as soon as his hand was just above the terrarium lid.

Seeing the dark shape attempting to scramble away, his other hand smacked down on top of it automatically, pressing it into the mesh with a small, muffled cry.

He glanced at his hand. There was a plastic thorn hooked in his thumb, the broad end chewed off and the point of it sharpened. His guest had attacked and used him as a makeshift lift in their escape attempt.

“Oh,” he intoned, voice dark. “Seems like you have plenty of energy after all, hm?”

---

Virgil took in short, gasping breaths, barely able to hear whatever threatening thing the human was muttering as pain radiated through his leg.

It let up just slightly as the pressure of the hand on top of him eased, his face no longer pressed into the cold wire netting of the cage’s top. Before he could try and string two thoughts together, the fingers were curling around him like a hawk’s talons, lifting him up and sending another jolt of mind-numbing pain through him. He might have whimpered.

So much for that escape attempt. He’d known it was a long shot, but his options had been limited after realizing that he literally couldn’t stand on the injured leg any more. They’d dwindled further with every day he couldn’t bring himself to crawl over to any food or water. Living outside, he’d survived on very little before, but it was a gamble every time.

He was flipped to face the light, the human’s head in silhouette above him. He couldn't make out it’s words. Everything felt overwhelming, made incomprehensible by the pain and the dark spots in his vision. His face felt hot. Was he bleeding?

Things went blissfully quiet above him, and then he was being moved. He wondered if the human was about to kill him, and the thought sent a much weaker pulse of panic down his spine than usual. He hoped it killed borrowers before feeding them to it’s snakes.

Something soft and dark dropped over him, and he thrashed for a moment before his leg reminded him how awful an idea that was. So he laid still instead, letting his terror shake through him in waves, until he wasn’t completely lost to it anymore.

Slowly, he lifted a hand, feeling at what was draped over him. Cloth, soft in texture and tightly-knit enough that not much light got through. Below him… a warm, living surface.

“Awake?” the human said, voice both closer and quieter than he’d ever heard it.

Another shudder worked through him, and he reached up to press his hands over his face, wishing none of this was real. His eye pigment had run, drying in tracks down his cheeks.

He wouldn’t be able to reapply it. The locket he stored it in was left behind with the rest of his stuff, tucked away into his oversized pack and left at the opening into the human’s home. It had probably already been torn through and picked apart by Mari and the other insiders.

The thought stung, somehow more personal than the nightmare of the situation he was already in.

“I believe I see now why you haven’t eaten,” the human continued with a surprising lack of snark. It must have seen his leg. He felt a little sick just thinking about it.

What had felt like a low-grade fracture through the adrenaline had ended up growing worse and worse without treatment, until the injury was a solid lump of swollen flesh and ugly bruising that twanged with agony at even the slightest shifts. He wondered if the human was going to use it against him. It would make torture exceedingly easy on its part.

“Continue with the silent treatment, and you won’t get any actual treatment,” it said, now sounding exasperated.

After another stretch of silence, the hand beneath him moved and tilted, sliding him off onto a flat surface. Suddenly desperate to know what was going on, Virgil yanked at the cloth, dragging handfuls of it down until he reached an edge and could pull it clear of his eyes.

The light in this room was dimmer, but it still took him a moment to adjust. He wasn’t in a snake tank, but on top of a low table in what looked like a sitting room, if he remembered the human terms right. The human was seated on the couch nearby, looking down at him.

“There you are.”

---

The tiny person shot him a furious glare, rendered mostly ineffective by the dark tear streaks that were still smudged along their face.

Janus wished his earlier reflexes had been a little gentler. He’d had a quite embarrassing moment of panic where he’d thought the grotesque worsening of their leg injury had been caused by his grasp, rather than simple neglect and lack of treatment.

Despite his patience, they didn’t reply, continuing to just stare at him. He stood, ignoring the way it instantly made them begin trembling again.

“I’ll be back in a moment. Feel free to move around and make your injury worse,” he instructed dryly, before turning and going to grab the first aid kit from the bathroom.

His thumb was still sensitive, the injury messily scabbed over with dried blood. He’d pried the thorn out with his teeth easily enough, but with his other hand occupied by a prone tiny person and their hyperventilation fit, he couldn’t properly treat it.

Upon his return, he saw his guest had abandoned his handkerchief and was halfway to the edge of the table. He rolled his eyes, and set the kit down before grabbing them by the shoulders and sliding them back over to the handkerchief.

“I was being sarcastic, you know,” he told them, and opened the kit to start cleaning his undersized injury. “I’ll be very unhappy if my only source of information dies a completely avoidable death for no reason.”

“Yeah, because I sure wouldn’t want to make you unhappy,” his guest bit out, and then looked as though they were deeply and immediately regretting opening their mouth. Janus didn’t know why; he personally took much better to sass than being stabbed.

“So you do know how sarcasm works. Color me impressed.”

The tiny person actually hissed at him, like the world’s most emo kitten.

“Yes, yes, I feel very threatened,” Janus retaliated by prodding them with the edge of an open tube of arnica gel. “Here. For the bruising.”

After another long glare, his guest spoke. “What do you want for it?”

Janus raised an eyebrow. “Couldn’t it be argued that I owe it to you, for allowing the injury to fester while you’re in my care?”

“Your care--!” his guest cut themself off, taking in a deep breath through gritted teeth. “Terrible hosting etiquette aside, you weren’t the one who gave me the injury. Not your concern. So, what do you want?”

Janus wondered absently how tiny people qualified their hosts’ manners. He had certainly already failed by human standards, immediately imprisoning his guest and all, so perhaps it didn’t really matter either way. He wasn’t above taking advantage of a tiny person’s bartering honor system. “Answer three questions.”

“I get to pass on questions I don’t want to answer,” his guest countered quickly, apparently having expected this.

“You get five passes,” Janus allowed. Seeing what they refused to answer would be informative in itself.

“... Fine.” With another glance at their injury, they grabbed the tube sharply enough that they almost overbalanced. “Ask.”

“Where are the others living?” Janus asked, just to set the stakes high.

“Pass,” his guest answered, not even looking up from their task. Janus rolled his eyes.

“Why are you defending them?” he tried.

“I’m not defending them,” they shot back, vitriol thick in their voice. “I just don’t want you to get what you want. That’s one question.”

“Ouch. I’m hurt, really.” Janus tapped his nails along the table idly. “What’s your name and pronouns?”

This did prompt them to look up, face pinching up in confusion. After a moment, they returned to their baseline expression of scowl and retorted, “That’s two questions.”

“It’s one sentence, it counts as one question,” Janus lied smugly. They still looked close to passing, so he gave them a nudge. “Unless you want me to make something up? I’m very creative, I assure you.”

“I use he,” he finally grit out, “and you can call me V.”

“For Vendetta?” Janus mused, and received an utterly baffled look for his wit. “I suppose your movie repertoire isn’t that expansive.”

“Two questions,” V said flatly. “One left.”

“Yes, I can count.” Janus glanced at V’s gel-covered leg. “You have to rub that in for it to work.”

V’s expression flickered to one of despair, but he bit his lip and started to slowly massage the gel in. Janus wondered at how easily he’d believed him.

“What do you call yourselves?”

“Pass.”

“Where did you live?”

“Pass.”

“How do I bait the others out?”

“Pass.”

“Why do you hate me more than the ones who allegedly put you here?”

V’s hand slipped, and he winced and paused for a moment. “... Pass.”

There was certainly a grudge there. Too bad Janus had no idea what it could be about. Oh well.

He set a hand on the table, leaning over V. “When do the others plan to leave? As specific as you can get, please.”

“Pa--,” V cut himself off, and Janus could see the moment he realized he had used up all his get-out-of-questioning-free cards. He patiently waited out the tiny person’s fit of frustration.

“... I don’t know.” Janus’s smug grin dropped, but V continued after a speculative pause. “I don’t think they’ll leave before the season's turning. The spring thaw has been slow this year, and they’re-- not suited for it.”

Janus felt some of the tension drop from his shoulders. The start of summer. He had time, and the advantage of a weather forecast app. That was good news, even if he’d had to wrangle it out of his guest. He had time.

“How interesting,” he said lightly, and capped the gel to put it back in the box. V’s hands were clutching the edge of his coat tightly, as though guilty or angry. Or perhaps just stressed. “Let’s get some food in actual range of you, then, shall we?”

#sanders sides #ts virgil #ts janus #g/t #taking the fall #ttf #my writing #writing #borrowers #mind the warnings

206 notes · View notes

darthkruge · 4 years ago

Text

Anakin Skywalker x Reader ~ Help

Summary: The five times the Senator!Reader needs Anakin’s help but refuses to ask for it and the one time they do

Warnings: Language, reader is afraid of vulnerability, reader is going through it, angst, violence, fluff (it ends on a positive note, I promise)

Words: 4k

A/N: This idea has kinda been bouncing around my head for a hot minute and I finally decided to just go ahead and write it. And somehow it became the longest fic I’ve ever written! Is this self-indulgent? Who’s to say?!

(not my gif)

Okay, so a right, then a left, then another left, then-

You groaned. You’d been going over the cryptic instructions Padme gave you back at the temple but they were, unfortunately, not helping. It was your first time alone in Coruscant and you were completely lost in the painfully literal sense. You had just been given your first actual mission with the Council as a senator, something you’d worked your entire career for. As an added bonus, you were on the same planet as your boyfriend, Anakin Skywalker.

You’d gotten close over the last year and were elated when he asked you on a date the last time you were in the same place. This was the first time you were together in the two weeks it had been since then.

Anyway, you were currently wandering around the bustling Coruscant streets, looking for the market. Well, you were looking for the market. Now, you realized you would probably never find it and were just trying to make your way back.

You debated calling Anakin. You could. He would be able to guide you home easily, you rationalized. But it’s Coruscant! How difficult could it be? If people came here for missions all the time and didn’t get hopelessly lost, so could you! And Anakin was probably busy anyway, you didn’t want to disturb him. Besides, the relationship was so new! You didn’t want to annoy him. After weighing the odds, you pushed down the urge to reach out and decided to just find your own way.

This logic was ridiculous, you realized far too late. Fuck. There was no way around it, you were going to be late. Or at the very least, cut it exceptionally close. You started running, heart racing. It would be so stupid to be late to your first actual Council meeting because you got lost. You wanted them to take you seriously and think of you as a professional. Tardiness as a first impression went against all of that!

After sprinting and taking several aimless turns, by some stroke of magic you found your way to the Temple. You checked the time and realized you had two minutes to make it to up several flights of stairs.

Fuck it. You decided, taking off in a run. You took the stairs two at a time, stumbling occasionally before unceremoniously bursting through the doors to the meeting.

You gulped in air quickly, chest heaving while you desperately tried to calm your heart. You inelegantly brushed a hand through your hair and gave an awkward smile.

“Hi, uh, everyone! Hi! I’m,” You took a quick break to breathe in some more oxygen as your gaze shifted to Anakin. He looked amused and concerned as he took you in. He gave you a discreet and supportive smile and head nod. You gave your own in return. He believes in me. “I’m Senator Y/N L/N”

II.

Honestly, you didn’t know how your speeder had broken. You’d been flying them for years and, despite being a senator, you were pretty damn good at it. It was something that gave you solace as a kid, those little moments of freedom. Even then, though, you were a decently cautious person and didn’t break many of them.

Thus, you ended up in your current predicament. Staring at the fried wires under the hood of your speeder, trying to figure out what the fuck went wrong. You knew Anakin was freakishly talented at fixing basically everything. He could probably look at the speeder for 10 minutes, know what’s wrong with it, and get it back to you in perfect shape.

You think this is why you don’t want to tell him. What if he thought you were stupid? Shouldn’t you be able to figure this out yourself? You fought with your instincts, feeling the conflict build inside you.

You knew he wouldn’t judge you. You knew he’d be glad you came to him for help. Even so, you felt physically incapable of moving to call or find him.

Frustrated, you turned back to your work. You decided to pull this one gear, thinking it might do something. Well, you were right about that. A stream of oil sprayed out of the speeder, coating you in its thick, black paint. You stood there frozen for a second, trying to mentally comprehend that you had just been sprayed with oil because you were too afraid to talk to the man you were in a literal relationship with!!

You groaned, wiping your hands on your pants before grabbing a towel to wipe some of the grease off your face. You walked back into your apartment quickly, praying to the Maker that no one would see you like this. Honestly, they’d probably smell you first and run the other way.

You finally got back without problems and made a bee-line straight to the bathroom. Pulling off your clothes and turning on the hot shower, you sighed as you finally felt the oil washed off your skin. You spent about twenty minutes in there, scrubbing furiously to ensure you didn’t smell like a fucking garage.

Finally, you went out and saw Anakin sitting on your bed, messing with a piece of wiring.

“Hey, Y/N! Did you know your speeder was broken? It looks like you blew a cable, easy fix, don’t worry. I’ll have it ready for you by tonight.”

He looked up and saw your exhausted state and the clump of dirty, grease ridden clothes you were holding.

His brow furrowed, trying to piece it together. “Maker, what happened to you?”

“I had a fight with the speeder. And lost”

Anakin bit back a laugh before his confusion compounded. “Wait, you know I can fix this, right? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was an idiot. I mean, I did something and broke an entire speeder and somehow didn’t even know what I broke! It’s humiliating!”

“Cables are hard, it’s not your fault you didn’t know what to do, love.”

“Really?” You asked, unconvinced.

“Really. Come on, let’s go throw those clothes in the wash and I’ll get back to fixing this.”

“Oh, no, Ani you don’t have to-”

Anakin cut you off with a kiss, distracting you enough to quickly take the clothes from your hands.

“I’ll have it ready within the hour, my love.”

III.

Who the fuck decided to put the plates that high up?!

You jumped again and again, arm outstretched as far as possible. Once again, you didn’t even get close. Sighing, you looked around the apartment and noticed a ladder. It looked a bit unsteady but you would be fine, right? You were a whole ass senator, you were sure you could handle an old ladder.

Pulling it over to you, you climbed up and reached out. Much closer this time, but you still couldn’t reach them. You went on your tiptoes, eyebrows furrowed and lip bit in concentration. You angled your body just a little further, a little further-

The ladder was suddenly ripped out from under you and you desperately shot your arms out, hands clawing to try and stop your imminent fall onto the hard kitchen tiles. Bracing yourself for the inevitable pain, you squeezed your eyes closed.

“Y/N!!” You heard as your fall suddenly stopped. You opened your eyes and noticed you were barely floating above the floor. Anakin ran toward you and noticed the ladder strewn on the floor beside you.

“What the hell were you doing?” He said, offering you his hand and pulling you up.

“I was just-” You gesture lamely to the plates, realizing how ridiculous you must look.

“Y/N, no one can reach those! Next time, just call me, I’ll get them for you!”

“But-” You sigh, hating this. “I wanted to be able to do this, I don’t want to rely on you and your Jedi powers all the time”

Anakin’s gaze softened. He knew you had trouble relying on others. Even so, he couldn’t even start to think of what would have happened if he’d arrived home even 10 seconds later.

“I know, baby, I know. But, please, try. You’d have to rely on me a lot more if you break your legs falling off a ladder.”

“I know” You reply softly, giving him a shy smile. “I’m working on it, I promise”

IV.

You’d been up all night working on a new presentation for the Council. You’d spent hours going over it, the facts, the plans, the details. Everything was set. Well, everything except one little piece. To make your point stronger, you needed the statistics from the latest Jedi missions.

The only people with access to those were Anakin and Obi-Wan. You knew, logically, that if you asked Anakin he’d give them to you without hesitation. He supported you always and knew that you only used your power as a senator to improve lives.

Even so, there was that part of your brain that told you he wouldn’t give them to you. He would think you’re just trying to use him for his connections as a Jedi. Or perhaps he simply wouldn’t care enough to search through the reports to find the information.

All of this was, of course, completely inaccurate. But you’d never had someone who actually wanted to help you. It's always been “okay I’ll do this for you but only if you do this for me, too.” No one ever looked out for you and you’d grown accustomed to it. It’d become almost comforting, in a way. At least you knew what to expect.

This was how you ended up seeing your beautiful boyfriend across the halls of the Jedi temple and walking another way. Your heart tugged painfully and your brain screamed at you. Why don’t you allow yourself to trust him? Why would you assume the worst? Why can’t you fight these thoughts?

You took one more look back at him. You didn’t want to be closed off by any stretch of the imagination. You wished you could turn off the thoughts and the doubt. You knew Ani didn’t deserve it. You sighed. There he was, training by himself in the courtyard. You looked away and took a moment to compose yourself before your legs carried you away and toward your good friend.

“Hey, Obi-Wan, could you help me with something for the next Council meeting?”

You were running. You were running and as fast as you moved, you never got closer to him. You were never safe. A masked figure was chasing you and you just couldn’t get away. Your legs burned with the effort, your lungs straining to grasp oxygen. You were exhausted to your core, your sheer panic the only thing keeping you awake.

You looked back and saw the man gaining on you. Tears started streaming down your cheeks. You knew what he was capable of and had no doubt he would kill you if he caught you. You didn’t want to die, not like this. You didn’t want him to beat you. You were so, so scared. You screamed as he caught up to you, your body no longer moving. You pleaded with your legs to work, reasoned with the heavens, did anything you could, and yet you wouldn’t budge.

The stranger’s claw of a hand twisted around your neck, squeezing. You fought. It was pointless. You began to black out, feeling the life slip out of your body. Dark spots appeared in the corners of your vision and you tried once again to kick your way out of his grasp-

You bolted awake, eyes shooting open. Your chest was heaving and tear stains marked your cheeks. You placed your hands on the bed sheets, bunching them up and trying to feel the texture to remind yourself that you were safe. You tried to breathe, tried to calm yourself but nothing was working.

You got up, pacing quietly. Out of all the nights to have a nightmare, it had to be today. The one night you and Anakin weren’t together. Since you had to hide the relationship, you couldn’t technically share an apartment. This didn’t stop you from spending basically every night together, though. His chambers became yours after the first month or so of dating, neither of you wanting to spend time apart.

But, unfortunately, the Council seemed more cautious as of late and you didn’t want to risk it. Thus, you decided to spend tonight apart. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to care right now. You grabbed one of his Jedi robes, pulling the black fabric around your body. You were immediately calmed by his scent and wrapped it closer around you. You started to make your way down the hall. You knew it was risky but after that nightmare, you just needed him.

You made it to his apartment, went to knock on the door, and abruptly stopped. What are you doing? You can’t just go to him! He’s exhausted, he’s been working all week! He finally got home from a mission and you want to wake him up in the middle of the night because you had a nightmare? It wasn’t even real! Maker, get a hold of yourself, Y/N!

Your hand hovered over the door. You wanted him, you did. But those lingering thoughts, those lingering emotions remained. A childhood of neglect, of constant feelings of unimportance left scars you couldn’t avoid. You hated that your parent’s inability to show you affection or care manifested in your inability to be vulnerable. Despite this, you somehow understood. You’d spent years letting them in and only getting invalidated in return. Like all patterns, this one wouldn’t go away just because you wanted it to.

Now, every time you tried to let Anakin in, it’s like an alarm was tripped in your brain. Every part of you that wanted to allow him to know you was combated with the overwhelming fear that, if you did, if you went to him for comfort or help, he would think of you as a burden. He’d leave, just like the rest of them did. So you pushed the urge for comfort aside, dropped your hand, and made the lonely walk back to your room.

You got back to your room, mentally beating yourself up. You wished your brain worked differently. You wished you would allow yourself to be loved. You wished you could trust, fully and completely. You sighed. Knowing you wouldn’t be getting any sleep, you made yourself a cup of tea and sat on your cough, the room solely illuminated by the moonlight. You kept Anakin’s robes around you, wishing it was his arms. You sat like that until morning, sipping the drink on and off until it grew cold. You were zoned out, staring out the window at the Coruscant traffic. Your thoughts either drifted to him or your past trauma. Maker, you wished you could change it.

Fuck. You’d been driving around on your speeder, zipping in and out of alleys, for the last twenty minutes. There was a bounty hunter after you. A damn good bounty hunter, at that. Being a high profile senator, it made sense you’d run into the occasional person trying to kidnap you. Or kill you.

Damn, this bitch is good. You kept trying to lose them but you couldn’t shake them. You didn’t even know who they were but it didn’t matter, you supposed. At the end of the day, regardless of who was in that speeder, they wanted you dead. And if you didn’t figure out how to get out of this mess, you would be.

They’d been shooting at you for a while now but you’d been able to avoid the blasts. Whether it was skill, luck, or a combination of both, you weren’t sure. Even so, you didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t shoot back at them, as you stupidly forgot your blaster. Who could blame you, though? All you wanted to do was go for a ride to clear your head, you didn’t expect to be fucking shot at!

You continued like this for a while. All you had to do was get back to the Temple. You were probably about 10 minutes away if you continued at this pace, 7 if you really pushed it. You looked ahead and saw the walls of it come into view and suddenly safety didn’t feel so far away. Despite the circumstances, a smile graced your face. You could do this.

Or maybe not. As you tried to swerve between more buildings, they hit you. You felt your speeder plummet 10 feet instantly and screamed. Your engine sputtered and your heart dropped. Mind racing, you tried to drive but came to the chilling realization that there was no way you’d make it back. Your engine was done for, it wouldn’t make it 3 minutes, yet alone all the way back.

Your mind went to him. Anakin. Fuck, you loved him. You let out a humorless laugh. Since you started dating, you almost never asked him for help. You couldn’t let him in. Something in your brain stopped you every single time. And yet, now, all of that felt stupid. It felt juvenile. When you looked at your speeder, slowly but surely stalling and the bounty hunter approaching, you felt this overwhelming sense of clarity.

You were going to die. This person, they would get to your speeder and shoot you. You didn’t have a single weapon. It was inevitable. Your mind, however, wouldn’t relent. It was stuck on him. In this moment, you pressed the comm button in your speeder, hoping beyond hope that it would still work.

“Y/N?” Anakin’s staticky voice cut through the speeder and went straight to your heart.

“Hey, Ani” You said, your voice broken up with unshed tears.

“Y/N? Where are you? What’s happening?”

“I’m- Anakin, I’m in trouble. A bounty hunter is after me, my speeder is hit and going to stop working probably within the next 20 seconds. I don’t have any weapons to defend myself. I, I, uh, I need your help”

“I’m coming to get you, stay where you are.” His voice was firm, his need to protect you overruling everything else in his body.

“I’m just a few-”

“I’ve got you, love. I can sense you in the Force. I know where you are”

Of course he could. You took a few deep breaths and you speeder sputtered out, stopping in a deserted alleyway. You looked around and saw the bounty hunter, now obviously male, stepping out and making his way towards you.

“He’s here, Anakin” Your voice was tight, anxious. You were quiet, paralyzed by fear.

“Please, Y/N, fuck! Hold on, I’m almost there”

“Ani, Anakin I’m scared! Ani! Ani!” You were hysterical now, screaming and sobbing his name as the man punched the top of your speeder, fracturing the glass. He pulled you out of it by the hair and threw you harshly onto the concrete.

You yelped in pain as he kicked you directly in the ribs. He backhanded you across the face, the power from his hit making blood pool in your mouth. Harshly you spit it onto the ground, looking up at him with pure hate.

He placed the blaster to your head, right on your forehead. You let your eyes flutter closed. Your knees were scraped, legs bruised. You were sure at least one of your ribs was broken. You could feel blood running from your temple. Your arm was radiating pain from landing on it. Despite all this, the only thing you thought of was Anakin. Funny, you thought, how the brain chooses what to focus on in its last moments. All you hoped was that he didn’t feel responsible for your death. All you hoped was that he knew you loved him.

“You’re finished, Senator”

“I don’t think so” Anakin’s smooth voice, tight with anger, cut through the air. His lightsaber unsheathed, he swung it directly into the man. You gasped, everything happening so quickly. As soon as the blaster was gone from your forehead, you scrambled back.

Anakin walked up to you but, from the shock, you pulled back even further.

“Hey, hey, it’s me, it’s Anakin, okay? I’m not gonna hurt you”

You whimpered, looking at him and placing a hand on his jacket before harshly jumping into his arms. He gripped you to him, both of you sighing in relief.

“You came for me”

He looked at you like you were insane. “Of course I did! You needed me, you called! I’m always going to be there for you, Y/N. I am always going to show up”

“Thank you” You said, voice muffled against his chest. His hands raked through your hair while you just breathed him in. His scent comforted you, his strong chest and large arms grounding you after a day so intense and horrifying that nothing felt real.

You were still trembling, the aftershocks quite apparent.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you. You’re safe, he’s dead, he’s gone. No one’s ever gonna hurt you again, I promise.” Anakin whispered these affirmations into your hair, holding you until the shaking ceased.

“Thank you for calling me, Y/N. I know that couldn’t have been easy for you.”

“It wasn’t that hard, to be honest, I- wait? What do you mean, you know it couldn’t have been easy for me?!”

Anakin looked at your sheepishly. “You honestly think I haven’t noticed your problems with asking for help? We’ve been together for almost a year and, contrary to popular belief, I can be quite perceptive. I didn’t want to call you out on it, I assumed you’d be embarrassed. But I’m glad that when it actually came down to life or death, you called me.”

“I’ve always known I could call you, Anakin. Please, I don’t want you to ever think my inability to be vulnerable is rooted to anything you do. You’re, fuck, you’re perfect. You’re kind and compassionate and caring and you’re always looking out for me. Look, I know I haven’t been too open about my past and I still struggle with that. I guess what I’m trying to say is I’ve never had someone who actually wanted to be there for me. This thing where you care and want me to come to you when I’m hurting or simply just want affection or company or help with the little things, it’s foreign to me.”

Ani’s heart broke at your words. “I’m sorry I didn’t know you back then, Y/N. I hate that this” He said, gesturing between you both “is unique to you. But, seriously, anytime you need anything I’m someone you can come to. I honestly want you to come to me. Regardless of if you think it’s something small or this life-altering favor, ask me. I doubt I’d turn you away and, on the off chance I do, I’m not gonna hold that against you.”

“You won’t leave? Even if I show you all of me? Even if I rely on you?”

“I won’t leave you, beautiful. So long as you allow me to show you all of me, too. And you let me rely on you, too.”

Your eyes widened at his words. “Of course! Of course, Ani! I’m here for you, I got you, too, always.”

“I know you do” His flesh hand went up, cupping your cheek.

“I know you do, too.” You sighed into his touch. You were exhausted beyond belief, your body and mind pretty much shutting down from the stress of it all. Even so, you relaxed further into his body. Yeah, this was new. Yes, it was scary. But you were going to try. Even though it terrified you, you wanted to be loved. You wanted to be loved by him.

tagging julia bc she asked when i was textpost-complaining about having to edit this <3

@anakinswhore

#megan writes #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x gn!reader #anakin skywalker x gender neutral reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker imagines #anakin skywalker angst #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker

442 notes · View notes

gummygowon · 4 years ago

Text

how ateez surprises you on your birthday!

genre: fluff

warnings: none

request: hi!! I don’t know if you still want fluff requests, but if you are, do you think you could write how ateez would surprise you on your birthday? My birthday is soon 💕 hehe

a/n: i am like this close to turning all these reactions into oneshots or drabbles lsjdflsdf but anyways i’m so sorry this took so long! i hope you enjoy!! :)

seonghwa:

i think seonghwa is your classy, romantic, gentlemen boyfriend

which means that he would definitely surprise you after work/school by picking you up and then take you back home for some surprises (not like that weridos)

the first surprise being that your apartment was finally cleaned

countertops sparkling, dishes finally back in cupboards, and not even a speck of dust on your mirrors

“hwa, did you do this?”

you were a working student and lately, your homework load was piling lately which meant less free time >:(

he nodded at you, a bashful smile on his face, “i know you been super busy lately with school and everything so, i wanted to take some weight off your shoulders.”

your heart ached at the sight of him, making you run over to him and place a kiss on cheek, “i love you so much. thank you.”

“wait, there’s more.” seonghwa said as he pulled away, kissing you cheek once more before dragging you to your bedroom.

“there’s more?” you asked, slightly panicking since you were not prepared for anything else after your boyfriend deep cleaned your apartment

“yes there is. now close your eyes.” seonghwa impatiently answered as he placed his hands over your eyes. he was definitely too excited to show you other gifts

once seonghwa had carefully led you to the front of your bed, he removed his hands from your eyes, “surprise!”

you opened your eyes to a somewhat large gift bag and raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend

after taking out the bright tissue paper in the bag, you pulled out a pretty satin dress in your favorite color that looked too expensive and long box that contained an envelope charm god necklace that had a tiny matching gold plate that said “i love you” on the front and on the back, “p.sh”

seonghwa was super pleased with your reactions as he watched the biggest smile on your face form, “do you like it?”

“yes!” you answer before rushing into this arms, “but i don’t know when i’m gonna wear it.” your smile fading just a tad

but do not worry, mr. park got that covered

“well, you could wear it to our dinner reservations at the monarch.”

“no way!” you shout. “you got reservations there?”

the monarch was one of those fancy restaurants with really good food that can you leave day dreaming about it for days and you’ve been dying to try that place out after wooyoung mentioned that place a few months ago

however, it was pretty much booked for the next month so reservations were hard to come across

but seonghwa did some extensive researching and (eavesdropping) to find the perfect place to take you out and reserved literally a month and a half before

“yes, i did. now go get ready princess before we’re late.” seonghwa kissed your forehead before letting you go.

after an hour of you being in the bathroom, you came out looking like an actual model

like godamn

seonghwa thought you were hot without makeup but now-

holy fuck was he speechless

“do i look okay?” you asked nervously, fidgeting with the hem of the dress

“you look more than okay, love. you look absolutely stunning baby.”

“thank you.” you responded back, trying to fight the blush on your cheeks

then seonghwa would escort you down to his car, making sure that nothing got onto your dress

so he would open all the doors you guys passed by and hold them out for you (he does this all the time but this time felt more magical because of your outfit)

you guys eat dinner feeling super grateful for everything hwa was done for you so far plus the food was worth the wait for sure

but by far, your favorite part of your birthday date was when seonghwa took you guys on a walk in a nearby park

pretty lights decorated the trees, lighting up paths for visitors

this added to the whole magical princess vibe which had you skipping

no like, you were literally skipping with happiness as you ventured through the park, smiles painting both of your faces :)

hongjooong:

you met hongjoong while working at the 7/11 below the company when he was a trainee

he was absolutely starstruck when he saw you for the first time behind the counter

a stuttering mess as he payed for his snacks while you had flushed cheeks when his hand grazed yours when you gave his change back

after that hongjoong always made an excuse to come down to see you and start talking to you

then on one late night, he offered to walk you home since he was concerned for your well-being (he always was actually)

you, of course agreed because you wanted another excuse to talk to him more

the walk home was quite enjoyable

no awkward silences or anything

but of course, you forgot your jacket on a chilly, fall night

you were practically shivering as soon as you walked out of the connivence store and it didn’t take hongjoong more than a minute to see you freezing your ass off

“are you cold?”

“no...” you answered stubbornly as you wrapped your arms tighter around yourself

“bullshit.” honjoong laughed as he shrugged his hoodie off and handed it to you. “here.”

you were caught so off guard by his actions that you literally stopped walking, “are you sure?”

“yeah, i’m sure. i don’t want you to get sick”

you took the warm hoodie from him and slipped it on, the sleeves going past your fingertips, “thank you but, won’t you get sick?”

“eh, it’s fine. i like the cold.”

“ok weirdo.”

“give me back my jacket.”

“no!” you yelled at him as you started sprinting towards your house

ever since that night, hongjoong would walk you home after your shift and of course, you would always forgot to bring a jacket

which meant that you would have to reluctantly take his jacket

now fast forward to two years later, you guys started dating!

and this year for your birthday was pretty casual, nothing fancy since you had school and work

which meant that hongjoong would swing by the store when your shift was over and he did

however this walk was different since you guys took a little detour to the park nearby your house so you guys could look at the pretty stars.

then of course, you forgot your jacket again

“you cold?”

“yes.” you sigh in defeat which causes your boyfriend to laugh

“good because then you’ll love my gift then”

and then hongjoong pulls out a gift bag from his backpack which you open a little too quickly

hongjoong gives you a reformed sweatshirt!!!

“do you remember the first night i walked you home?”

you nod your head eagerly as you slip it on, the bright strips of color on the sleeves popping out

“i love it!” you exclaim as you wrap your arms around hongjoong tightly

“you do?” he asks unsure, that you wouldn’t like at all.”

“yes, why wouldn’t i?” you look up at him causing honjoong’s brain to stop working

“i love you.” he spit out, his cheeks flushed and a crooked smile on his face

you giggled at his actions before leaning into kiss him, “i love you too.”

yunho:

ok so being the busy queen/king you are, you hadn’t had the chance to see your boyfriend yet plus you were staying at your parents for the weekend to celebrate your birthday which made it even harder

but nonetheless, you were ecstatic to be home and surrounded by all our family members and a few childhood friends who stayed in your hometown for college or were back for the weekend

it was great since you were able to celebrate your birthday being surrounded by the people you love

but you really missed your boyfriend even though he called you in the morning to wish you a happy birthday and apologize for not being able to make it

it was almost midnight by the time everyone in your house was settled for the night or even sleeping and so you were until you heard a knock coming from your window

you nearly broke your neck because you snapped your sound head so fast to your window

your mind immediately went to “there’s a serial killer outside” mode so you grabbed your hairbrush as a weapon as if that would do any damage

when you pushed back your blinds, you had to keep yourself from screaming because there sat your boyfriend from highschool on the huge ass tree right near your window

“yunho?!@!#@”

“hi.” yunho responded a small smile on his face

it was like a mix of smirk and an embarrassed smile

anyways, yunho somehow convinces you to come outside so you guys can watch the stars

which is exactly what you do

you grab your hoodie (which is actually yunho’s) and an extra blanket as you carefully make your way down the tree

at first, you were scared that your parents were going to scold you for leaving and you were like fuck but you then you remembered you’re an adult so they couldn’t get that mad at you

this reminded you of the few times you would sneak out of the house for yunho which is the only reason why you would ever think about sneaking out

yunho walks you to the nearby park in your neighborhood before laying down his own blanket for you guys to lay on

you’re lowkey shivering so you try to move as close to yunho as you can as he wraps his arm under you

for the first few minutes you guys sit in silence, just watching the stars and tiny planets twinkle in the dark sky

until you start pointing out different constellations which yunho thought was actually so amazing because they all looked like clumps of white dots to him

plus, he found it really cute when you started to get all excited and jumpy talking about the things you were really passionate about

although yunho couldn’t tell the difference between capricorn and the little dipper, he still made a comment about the view

“the moon is beautiful isn’t it?”

you craned your head to look up at him, a smile creeping its way on your face, “yeah, it is.”

yunho smiled back before reaching down to cup your cheek for a kiss

the phrase, “the moon is beautiful isn’t it?” is a more poetic way of saying “i love you.”

yeosang:

i feel like yeosang is a perfectionist

yk the type of bf to make sure everything is done correctly for your dates and especially your birthday

and this year you wanted to do something simple and small because of covid plus you still had work and school to do

tbh if it was just you and yeosang together this year, you wouldn’t mind at all

so going by your wishes, yeosang came up with the brilliant idea to try and bake you a cake since you literally refused to tell him what you want for your birthday (although, he has secretly been taking notes about what you need even if it was just something that you could’ve bought yourself)

ok now, we all seen that video of yeosang trying to cook an egg which turned out horribly so his baking experience with this wasn’t the smoothest

yes, he bought all the correct ingredients and tools needed to bake and decorate a cake but somehow his first cake turned out burnt as hell which led to him going back to the store to buy another cake mix (and an extra just in case he fucks up again)

this time it came out pretty good, the middle wasn’t runny at all the sides weren’t a charcoal black

now all he had to do was frost the godamn cake

which was so fucking hard to do AND FOR NO REASON ISTG

the store bought frosting he bought kept catching cake crumbs in it and the spatula he was using was doing an ass job

yeosang was getting so frustrated with this hellish sugar on sugar thing because he literally watched a fifteen minute video on how to frost cakes for beginners last night

he had all the right tools for it so why wasn’t the cake creating a smooth crumb coat ?????

after he awhile, he abandoned his crash course learning in cake decorating from the night before and started doing his own thing

so after doing a base layer of frosting with your favorite color, he picked out all the crumbs from it which took hours but he didn’t care

and then he started to add the “happy birthday!” on it which went lowkey south since it was actually a lot harder to write with frosting than what yeosang thought

but he still tried his best to fix it so the words weren’t horribly slanted or anything

fortunately, the cake turned out alright for someone who doesn’t decorate cakes for a living

now the hard thing was to get to your apartment without dropping the cake or fucking it up on the way there

so yeosang sat in the back of yunho’s car clutching the sides of the cake platter with his dear life

luckily, the cake made it to your house in one shape and you were so surprised and happy that yeosang came over

you were practically jumping up and down once he put the cake down on your table and clinged onto his arm

after yeosang sang happy birthday to you, you blew out the candles with the biggest grin on your face

“what did you wish for?”

“that’s a secret.” you joked as you swooped some frosting onto your finger and onto his nose

san:

this was probably the first time that san had stayed home in months

it was annoyingly difficult to try and schedule times to see each other but you didn’t mind

he was here now and that’s all that matter

smiling to yourself, you turned over to san’s side expecting there to be your cuddly boyfriend for you to only be met with a cold side

“wtf” you thought, did he get called into practice or something last minute? if he did he would’ve texted you...

which you grabbed your phone immediately to look for any missed calls or texts but there was nothing from san, just the usual spam emails and post notifs from insta

san promised that he was going to be free for the whole weekend for your birthday

promises are meant to be broken, you childishly thought to yourself

sighing, you were about to get out of bed so you can brush your teeth and go celebrate your special day before your door flew open,

“surprise!” your boyfriend shouted into the room

“oh my fuck!” you screamed back, clutching your chest

whatever was in san’s hands tumbled a little bit before he caught his balance again

“you scared me!”

“i’m sorry baby.” san apologized before placing a tray full of your favorite breakfast dishes onto your bedside table

“did you make this?” you asked as you poked around the tray

godamn he actually got all your favorites, your favorite drink, sweets, and your preferred way of cooking eggs

he hummed in response before kissing you on the cheek, “happy birthday, y/n.”

with your heart swelling full of love and a few tears sliding down your face, you thank him

“i love you so much.” you say before you pull him into a tight hug

“i love you more.” san responds kissing your forehead before tugging you onto the bed so you could eat

you sit in san’s lap as you eat and occasionally give him a bite after you hear his stomach grumble

“do you want a bite? or...” you ask after hearing san’s stomach growl louder than the trucks outside your apartment

you turn to look at your boyfriend with a forkfull of pancakes, noticing the faint blush on his cheeks

you watch san struggle to answer your question since he didn’t want to eat your surprise breakfast but boy was he hungry

“yes.” he sighs in defeat making you giggle

mingi:

ok so mingi is a little trickster when it comes to surprises

so for your birthday you come from your day, burnt as hell from working and schoolwork and you really don’t wanna do much

you just feel like taking a shower and going to bed tbh

but however that was not the case

as soon as you came home, mingi sprang up from the couch kissing your forehead, asking how your day was

and then immediately he asked you to dress up nice

but you being grumpy and crabby slightly whined, “why? i think i’m just gonna call in some pizza, min.”

and then he would definitely catch on to the fact that you really did not want to be bothered at the moment but he still pushed you to get ready, “it’s your birthday, that’s why! take a shower and wake up and get dressed up because the place i’m taking you to is a classic.”

you were literally about to throw your bag on the floor and stomp your feet like a child

you loved your boyfriend a lot but it was your birthday so why was mingi calling all the shots???

but you sucked in a breath before mumbling an agreement to getting ready, “this place better be good mingi.”

“oh it is. don’t even worry about it.” your boyfriend would respond, shooing away your comment with a wave of his hand

while you shower and get ready, mingi goes to change in your other bathroom into a super nice tux like ball worthy tux yk

so when you step out of your bathroom with a towel wrapped around your chest about to ask mingi what you should specifically wear, your eyes nearly pop out of your head when you see what he’s wearing

and you’re like fuck i really have to wear something nice he also looks hot as fuck

which leads to you pulling out outfit after outfit to try an figure out what exactly matches your boyfriend’s tux and after some digging you finally found an outfit that screamed “cinderella’s ball”

you step out of your room with a frown on your face because the fatigue was now replaced with irritation and an empty stomach

but mingi is tripping out on the fact that you look so fucking good

like holy fuck

“you look amazing baby.”

your mood would lighten up a little bit but you were still playing the “i’m annoyed” card

so after you guys leave your apartment and are sitting his car driving towards the city and passing by many, many fancy restaurants which is making you wonder where the fuck you guys were going

“mingi, where are we going?”

“you’ll see.” is all he would say making you a little more frustrated

but eventually, mingi stops the car at an arcade that you haven’t been to in ages

“oh my god.” you gasp as you rush out of your seatbelt. “hurry up mingi!”

“now you’re excited?” he would tease you before joining you at the door with his hand in yours

when you guys walk in, everything is the exact same from what you remember as a kid

the same black with colorful confetti carpet, rows of games with the cords in a tangled mess behind the machines, and of course the prize counter looked the exact same except the prizes were much cooler this time (you could win an ipad and a nerf gun!!!)

you were definitely in much better mood now and was pulling mingi left and right to go play games

you guys were both extremely competitive but sometimes mingi would let you win because he loved seeing you get all excited and hyped when you won a game but he do it in a non-discreet way so you wouldn’t catch on

however, when it came to that car racing game (yk with the steering wheel) well he would not hold the tf back on that game and niether would you

he even made a bet with you declaring that whoever loses has to pay for dinner which you gladly accepted because you never lose (a lie has been detected !)

so here you guys were absolutely gaming it out, taking this racing game a little bit too seriously wearing full on red carpet-worthy outfits in an old arcade where little kids were staring at you guys weirdly

niether of you cared, too busy focusing on the game which was currently in a tie and ended with you winning!

fair and square if i may add (mingi had accidentally crashed into a building which ultimately led to his downfall)

so you’re all excited and pumped up because you kicked his ass in that game and you’re walking out the arcade practically skipping because of your mood and you flash mingi a L, “hah! you have to buy me pizza now!”

while mingi is literally sulking with his head down and is walking 0.01 mph, “no fair my game glitched!”

“no excuses, song!”

wooyoung:

since we all know that wooyoung loves to cook, i can safely assume that he would definitely surprise his s/o with their favorite meal for their birthday

like, wooyoung would probably sneak into your house when you left for work/school with his arms full of ingredients

he also come fully prepared with the recipe basically memorized after looking back and forth on it to make sure he bought all the correct ingredients

he knew that you haven’t had the time to see your family in person in awhile because of your upcoming finals and whatnot which meant that you missed your parent’s cooking a lot

it had been a fat minute since you were able to taste a warm cooked meal from your house and how you longed for your parent’s cooking

which is why wooyoung had secretly called your mother for their family recipe which she gladly gave as soon as wooyoung promised to not sell it (family recipes are not something to be passed around lightly)

so while you were at work, wooyoung was getting his iron chief on

preparing ingredients and measuring them to the exact cup or tablespoon

he was extremely nervous to present you his surprise because he was scared it was going to taste wonky

now the only thing left to do was wait for your surprise meal and for you to come home (he cleaned up his mess dw while waiting for you)

by the time you were home, you were slumped and just ready for bed tbh

but all the fatigue left your body once your apartment smelt like your childhood house, you snapped your head towards the kitchen to see wooyoung jump out from the counter

“surprise!”

“oh my god, i thought you were at work!” you rushed to go hug your boyfriend.

“i was but i managed to convince hongjoong to let me leave early.” wooyoung answered before kissing your cheek.

“awww, thank you.” you leaned into him even more before pointing towards the kitchen, “what did you make here, chef linguini?”

wooyoung let go of you and presented the plates that were set up on your counter all fancy like

“i made you dinner!” he exclaimed, his nerves bouncing off the wall which he masked with a bright smile

“is this my parents’ recipe?” you asked, tears forming in your eyes. it really had been a long time since you saw your parents.

“yeah, i asked your mom for it. i know it’s been awhile since you seen them so i decided to bring a little piece of them to you.” he answered sheepishly, one arm scratching his neck as he avoided making eye contact with you

the meal almost tasted exactly the one at home, triggering happy memories to flood your mind as you took another bite

“i hope you know that i plan on marrying you, jung wooyoung.” you half joked before digging into the dish even more

“you like it?” wooyoung asked, his smile lighting the room up even more

“of course i do!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around him, “thank you so much for this. i love it.”

“and i love you.” he smiled back at you before kissing you. “let’s eat before it gets cold, yeah?”

“you don’t have to tell me twice.” you laughed before sliding into a seat, your heart warm and full of love

jongho:

you were absolutely bummed that jongho couldn’t see you for your birthday because he had practice all day and then you had work right after school

however, jongho called you as soon as the clock stroke midnight because he wanted to be the first one to wish you a happy birthday!!! :)

nonetheless, you went through the school day with some of your classmates and a few teachers wishing you a happy birthday and what not

you even got a free cookie from the nice cafeteria lady!

then as soon as school ended you went to work at your local diner as a waitress

there, some of your fellow coworkers wished you a happy birthday as well!

before the rush hour, your closet coworker/best friend asked you why you didn’t just take the day off

you then explained to her how your boyfriend was at work all day and then you didn’t have the time/money to go visit your family in the neighboring city too much schoolwork and train fares were a bitch to cover

your best friend felt sorry for you and promised to take you out after you guys shift was over before a flood of customers came barreling through the door

so while you were at work, jongho was busy convincing honjoong to let him sneak out during their lunch break to see you

“please hyung! i haven’t seen her in person in so long and its her birthday please!”

hongjoong gave him a look saying you gotta do better than that

“i’ll take out the recycling for you for two weeks!” jongho pleaded with his hands together

bingo

“fine i’ll cover for you, but don’t let our manager catch you.”

jongho practically kissed him on both cheeks before sprinting out the door after looking around for his manager.

on his way over to your work, he stopped by a nearby flower shop to buy you some flowers and for him to catch a breath (he was basically running to your workplace before your lunch ended)

now over back to you, the rush had finally ended in time for your lunch break which you super glad for (no more karens up your ass !!!!)

you sat in a table near the back of the diner, pulling out snacks from your bag (you didn’t have much time to pack a full lunch)

you were thoroughly enjoying your snacks while mindlessly scrolling through social media before a loud noise cracked the air causing you to look up from your phone

“jongho?” you asked in disbelief at your boyfriend who was a panting mess. wasn’t he supposed to be at practice still?

“hi.” he smiled up at you after catching his breath. “i convinced hongjoong to let me sneak out of practice so i can surprise you.”

you were so shocked that you couldn’t even form words which led to you jumping out of your seat and wrapping your arms around him

it had been too long since the last time you saw each other

too long

“i missed you.” jongho whispered, wrapping his arms around you too being extra careful to not crush the flowers in his hand.

“i missed you too.” you whispered back, tears forming in your eyes as you hugged him even tighter

294 notes · View notes

bakubub · 3 years ago

Text

favourite time of year

w/c: 1.2k

written for @kal0psi-a 's halloween collab

folding the sticky dough carefully, just as the recipe instructed, i try my best to ignore the itching in my nose in a feeble attempt to stay concentrated, but give up when it starts to irritate my eyes.

"eughh, because of you there's flour in my nose," i complain to my boyfriend, who has his chin hooked over my shoulder and very heavily leaning over me.

"hey, don't complain! have you seen my hair?" he asks, stretching his neck to show me. sure enough, his hair is more white than it is black. i rake my hand through it before he can say anything, my dough covered hands clumping his hair together as an avalanche of flour sprinkles all over my chest.

he screeches, jumping back from me and i quickly use this chance to start running, because based on previous incidents, there's a 90% chance he will chase me relentlessly.

his cough from across the kitchen halts my escape plan, "are you happy now? i have flour in my nose too," he complains.

i watch in amusement as a cloud of flour puffs around him in the shape of a mushroom as he sneezes heavily, looking quite literally like a cartoon character and quickly near him to snap a picture. this will do nicely for the autumn section in this year's album.

since we started dating, tetsuro and i have been taking photos of one another, which we organise into albums by year, separated by season. it started when he gave me an album on our first anniversary, now, 6 years later and married, putting together an album of the past year has become tradition. each season we do an activity that correlates with the vibe, and today, we're making pumpkin pie with halloween shape indents because really, what else comes to mind when you think of fall?

i laugh loudly at the photo i took, his face caught mid sneeze, and it seems to flick the switch deep within tetsuro that i thought i had flicked earlier, and his feline gaze snaps to mine, before lurching forward in an attempt to catch me. i move just in the nick of time and run to the other side of the bench. he chases me until we're playing cat and mouse around the bench like children, slowly stalking one another as the other makes it as though they're backtracking but running forward instead.

"give up, wicked witch!" he exclaims, putting his right hand on his heart and holding the other outwards as he closes his eyes, apparently overwhelmed with emotion, "it is i, prince tetsu-" in the midst of his theatrics, i move in for the kill. his need for dramatics is most definitely his achille's heel, i think as i stab him in the hip with my fingers, and he yelps, opening his eyes only to find the mouse catching the cat.

"and the wicked witch of fall wins!" i yell, jumping up and down, getting flour all over the hardwood floors.

"fine, this round goes to you. your reward? a magical kiss from your prince charming," he says, leaning in and halting my celebration.

"the prince kisses the witch? haven't heard this fairy-tale before," i mutter before he silences me by placing a soft but unhurried kiss on my lips. my hands automatically make their way around his neck, and i lean back slightly as his hands firmly hold my waist, providing protection and support even in a moment as miniscule as this. in the glow of the autumn sunset, painting our kitchen with a golden hue, with the man i love in front of me, everything is perfect. we break off, his forehead leaning on mine, neither of us moving away.

"this is our fairy-tale, with its own happy ending."

looking up, I'm met with his golden brown stare, the small specks of gold especially visible in this lighting, practically glowing. his white turtle neck hugging his form nicely, and his raven hair sprinkled with flour, i can't help but wonder if this is what we're going to be like in the future, when we've lived our lives, and grown old together; the only indication of our age being the salt and pepper hair, and the slightly more prominent lines around our eyes from spending a lifetime of smiling.

because that's how it would be, i think, to have tetsuro next to me for eternity, to smile and to laugh every day.

he has to kneel down considerably to reach my lips with his own, to rest his forehead on mine, but the look on his face and the emotion in his familiar, beautiful eyes reflect nothing but comfort and content, genuine even as he says stupid and cliché things. in a way, he’s promising me nothing but a life full of the music of our happiness.

"i love you, witch," he whispers, as if afraid to ruin the moment by speaking.

i kiss him again, before pulling out my secret weapon and dumping more flour over his head. "love you too, prince!" i screech as i run away. i hear his chuckles as he chases after me, muttering empty promises of revenge just as he did before, and every other time, and hopefully, if my luck holds out, every time after.

---

"okay, nod gonna lie, dis ith really goo-dh" i say, speaking with a mouth full of the pumpkin pie we finally got around to baking.

i watch him snap a photo of me, smiling through my full mouth, knowing full well i have pie all over my mouth and teeth.

“you’ve never looked better, babe,” he says, chuckling, before trying it himself, moaning through his full mouth, "oh mhy gohd." i roll my eyes as he continues, "baby, thth is fudding amathing," he says, taking another, and then another bite.

“slow it down, moron. you’re going to choke and the wicked witch is going to have to ruin her comfy position to give you the heimlich,” i say, my legs crossed on the carpeted floor with my feet nice and warm in my thick panda bear socks.

“how abouth we sthip straighd to the kith of life?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows with a mouth full of pie.

"how about you shuffle the cards, prince? i'll pick a movie," i suggest, or rather order, raising my brows. he salutes sarcastically as he sets down his plate and goes to get our worn out deck of uno cards.

"i thought you were a witch, not a princess," he mutters once he swallows his pie.

"actually, i married the prince so that legally makes me a princess. c'mon tetsuro," i say, pressing play on a random comedy to play in the background.

with the fireplace going under the television, and our pumpkin spice and cinnamon candles lit, the room is cozy, warm and calm.

that is until tetsuro yells his profanities about me placing a 2+ on his 4+.

"THAT'S NOT ALLOWED! YOU CAN ONLY PLACE A 4+ ON TOP OF A 4+"

"since WHEN?! THIS WASN'T THE RULE LAST WEEK!" i scream back, refusing to back down. i am not picking up four cards. "i would never cheat. unlike YOU," i accuse, shoving another fork full of the pie into my mouth in defiance.

he dramatically gasps shoving a fork full of pie into his own mouth, and glares at me. i glare right back, both of us wordlessly agreeing that whoever loses the staring competition loses the uno argument. ignoring the burning in my eyes, i keep my expression neutral as i watch the tears building up in tetsuro's lashline, his right eye twitching and turning slightly red.

"YES!" i scream as he blinks, wiping his eyes and sighing dramatically before beginning to pick up six cards, unable to come up with an excuse.

i laugh mercilessly and we continue the game, which i ended up winning after he picked up another 12 cards, flashing me the 'please have mercy on me' eyes every time he reached for the deck.

"you really are a wicked little witch aren't you?" he mutters as he gets up. i snort in response, eating the last of my pie.

"i wanna another slice," he announces. "you want?" nodding eagerly, i give him my plate.

"i want a slice with a bat," i call out, referring to the misshapen shapes we cut out on the top layer of the pie.

when he came back, he halted at the door as he silently watches me set up face masks and mani-pedi equipment on the coffee table, the entire pie tray with two forks, instead of two slices, in his hands. i raised my eyebrows, and he mirrors my expression towards my makeshift salon on the floor of our living room.

we both shrug and he comes and sits next to me, picking up a face mask packet and reading the description.

"ooh! aloe vera!"

that's how we ended up watching shitty comedies all night with white face masks on and stomachs stuffed with pie.

---

laying in bed my head resting on tetsuro's shoulder and my hand rhythmically stroking his hair, i bask in the feeling of comfort and my mind being stress free. shielded from the cold night with a million blankets and the massive man sleeping next to me, with my especially cold, numb feet tucked under his thigh, i match my breathing with his easily as i follow after him into a deep slumber.

because that's what the season of autumn is about, really. taking it easy after the adventurous months that were spring and summer, to rewind and become a home-bug again as the weather cools down. and these moments with tetsuro?

these moments are what makes this my favourite time of year.

ahhh this was so, so fun!! special thanks to @/kal0psi-a for organising this entire collab <3

#2021 fall collab #collab event #collab #haikyu x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo x gn!reader #kuroo comfort #kuroo tetsuro scenarios #kuroo tetsuro #fall 2021

37 notes · View notes

jirnkirks · 3 years ago

Note

landry and moody for 22 maybe??

This ks.. Idk what this is. Very mushy. ITS SO FUCKED UP THEU DONT HAVE NECKS in the interest of derusting im imaging this moody to be gob's human shaped moody. Landry is a short king, at least next to moody, btw i just think thats true

Set in my indulgent hcs about landry hitchhiking w the tigers to go to the hall, fron the same hcs about our dead guys hitchhiking w us

Landry is not supposed to be here. It had hurt, truth be told, stepping into Zion’s ship. Literally, like the worst kind of seasickness. Their were rules to Blaseball, and Landry was Released. Finished. But the sun that suddenly hung over Hades continued to pulse, strange and so deeply unnatural, just like the way rules started falling apart, parts of stadiums and games crumbling away into the void. So he holds on. Famous had sworn at him, under their breath and when it was just Landry trying to catch his breath, but they didn’t push them off the ship like Moody would have insisted on, and Landry considers it a win.

It’s not quite like incineration. It’s the opposite of Day X, when Landry had stepped up to bat on a body that could be called his own. The blue flames that wreathe him flicker and fade- but they hold. As Zion steered them straight to the Hall, as the Monitor towered over them again and asked them to wait and even as Lottie had poked him with a marshmallow.

(Landry laughed at that, even as Ayanna had dragged Lottie away. He doesn’t miss the way Famous had hung around, watching. Prowling, really. The Famous Landry had known wouldn’t be caught dead with either of them.)

Landry had flickered like a flame when the Halls doors opened. He remembered little of it- little of his first time in the Hall, little of the second as he jumped off the ship.

(He was not the only one. But maybe the first to be so brazen about it.)

The dead have gathered at the doors- Landry doesn’t recognize most. But many clump around loosely, the ones waiting for the same people, the same colors.

The impact of every step he made on the dark glass floors of the Hall shuddered up his leg. Landry Violence was not meant for a place so owned by its gods. Landry breathed deeply, turning his head. Searching. He only needed to be here for a few moments anyway, just a bit longer.

He sees Scorpler before he sees the rest- a small group in deep red. Waiting.

And he’s running and pushing his way through the crowd until he sees them. It’s Scorpler who laughs this time, the sound of chitin scraping against each other as Landry hollers.

And it’s Moody- they’re cold, and their eyes are cloudy in death but those hands are the same, wide and buzzing with whatever it is Moody is made of. Landry had forgotten the way Moody’s hands settles against the back of his neck, the gentle weight of it. The way they sigh Landry’s name- affectionate, surprised, half resigned as Landry had laughed. Only Moody could feel the dampness, where tears soaked into Moody’s shoulder.

He is holding Moody, with hands that are his own, the first in so, so long and Landry can’t help the laughter bubbling up.

It hurts to know how much he had forgotten. It hurts, just as sweetly, to be reminded of what he had forgotten.

“Hey Moody, what do you think of my smokin’ hot bod?” Landry chokes out as his hands finally settle around Moody’s neck, their bodies pressed at the chest, at the knees and so closely that Landry can feel the way their chest shudders to life as they laugh.

Landry can feel himself flickering like a candle flame and the way Moody hesitates as they look at him as their hands slide from cupping Landry’s neck, up his neck, to his cheeks. Taking in Landry’s new face of his own and there is a wonder there, the same desperation Landry had felt at the thought of the Hall opening, truly.

For once, Landry hopes he keeps burning. Just for a little bit longer.

#Landry violence #Moody cookbook #Blaseball #Hades tigers #Moodylandry #My writing

7 notes · View notes

purrgara · 3 years ago

Note

for that fic trope mashup: bathtub fic and secret relationship for shyan 👀

- bigboybergara

This got angstier and longer than I had originally planned so uh--oops. Enjoy? |D

More Than Anything

Relationship: Shyan, Mentioned Standrew Tags: Insecure Ryan, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, secret relationship Tropes: Bathtub fic, Secret relationship

There was something intimate about it all. Intimate in a way that they hadn’t been all week. It was something about being close to each other while the cameras were still rolling. Something he couldn’t quite place. Something that made his tongue feel too big for his mouth and his palms sweaty. “I can’t believe the jets don’t work. We’re literally just taking a bath together.”

Ryan was laughing it off, desperately trying to defuse the tension building between them. The tension suffocates Shane with each second that ticks by. But the cameras weren’t filming now and Shane couldn’t bring himself to laugh back. Couldn’t bring himself to look it in the eye for fear of what he might see. “Yeah. Weird right?” No. That was wrong. They’d bathed together before.

Wrong wrong wrong but he couldn’t make the right words. He didn’t know what to say. So he pulled himself up and stepped out of the lukewarm water. He could feel Ryan’s eyes on his back. Knew there was a question in the down turn of his mouth. It was too intimate. Too close. The cameras weren’t rolling, but they had been.

—

“Why does it bother you so much?” Shane wanted to pretend he hadn’t heard the soft question, but he knew Ryan would be able to tell he wasn’t asleep yet. Instead he made a soft noncommittal sound. It didn’t bother him. It really didn’t. “Shane.”

Another long pause then Ryan sighed and rolled over so his back was pressed against Shane’s. The heat of it a scorching line through his shirt. “Goodnight, big guy…” he wanted to pretend he didn’t hear the hesitation in his voice. Pretend he couldn’t hear the hurt just under the surface, but he could. And he did and it felt like something in his chest shriveled up and died.

“Night, Ry.” He clenched his eyes shut at the pain behind his sternum. He was fucking this all up, he knew it. Could practically taste it in the air between them. Why does it bother you so much? Because—because because because.

Because when the cameras were filming they weren’t Shane and Ryan anymore. They were ‘Shane and Ryan’. They were skeptic and believer. They were best friends. Ghoul boys. When they were filming they had a reputation to uphold. They had the integrity of the show to think about.

When they weren’t filming they just— they weren’t. When they weren’t filming they were allowed to be themselves. He was allowed to be Shane, and Ryan was allowed to be Ryan. And they weren’t expected to keep up that carefully constructed dynamic. They were allowed to be Shane and Ryan and be ‘Shane and Ryan’ and they just—no one else needed to know they were.

“I—love you?” His heart cracked open because it sounded like a question and Shane hated it. Hated that he’d made Ryan question it, question them, at all. He felt sick as he carefully rolled over, the warmth of Ryan’s back slipping away. Shane saw his shoulders tense and it struck him again that Ryan didn’t know. He couldn’t know because Shane didn’t tell him. Couldn’t tell him.

He slipped an arm over his waist and pulled Ryan closer. Buried his nose in barely damp hair and held on tight. The static cam blinked innocently at the end of the bed and there’d be so much footage they wouldn’t be able to use but Shane pushed that to the back burner. He pushed away the anxiety of editing but he just didn’t care. Because he couldn’t let Ryan think he didn’t love him. Couldn’t let him think that was what Shane’s hang up was. “Love you more than anything.” It was muttered into Ryan’s hair, pressed into his skin like a benediction.

God he hoped Ryan understood.

Why does it bother you so much?

Because no one else deserves to see what you mean to me.

—

“Did you see the Instagram post Steven made?” There was a carefully constructed wall around Ryan’s question. One that sent up red flags immediately in Shane’s head. Beside him Ryan kept scrolling through Twitter, head pillowed against Shane’s arm, but he was too nonchalant. His eyes were too focused, in the way you knew they weren’t really looking at the phone screen.

“The one about him and Andrew? I did.” He cleared his throat and rubbed a hand over his nose. “I’m happy for them.” Ryan made a soft ‘hmm’ noise in the back of his throat as Shane set his own phone down. Every fiber in his body was screaming ‘ABORT ABORT ABORT’ but his mouth was, once again, out to completely ruin him. “Better him than me.”

Ryan stiffened against him before he roughly jerked away. “What’s that supposed to mean?” There was a bite to his tone mirrored in his eyes. Shane wished he had the right words but everything kept coming out wrong.

“I just mean that Steven’s more suited for it.” The alarms were blaring.

“It.” Oh. Oh no. No no no he wanted to back track. Wanted to explain himself better but he couldn’t get the words out before Ryan was pulling away. Rising to his feet with his hands clenched at his sides. “Well sorry you’re not suited for it.” He snapped, turning on his heel and storming toward the hotel bathroom.

The door slammed shut before Shane could even get off the couch. Shit. Shit shit shi— “That isn’t what I meant!” But the door stayed shut and the sound of the shower running drained out his words.

—

“Ry?” Shane asked tentatively almost an hour later as he stood outside the bathroom door. “I just meant the spotlight suited them better. Ryan, please open the door.” For the longest time there was no sound other than the shower water running, then a soft, barely there hiccup.

Shane’s stomach fell to his feet. Oh. It didn’t take much to scare Ryan, not really, but to make him cry? “Fuck.” It was breathed out as he pressed his forehead to the door. Trying the knob it gave with a light click. “Baby? I’m coming in alright?” He hesitated long enough for Ryan to protest if needed. When none came Shane slowly opened the door and sighed at the sight before him.

The shower curtain was wide open, Ryan sitting in the tub with his back under the spray. His knees were drawn up to his chest with his chin hooked over top. They let the silence stretch on longer as Shane came over, hesitating only briefly before climbing into the tub to sit opposite Ryan.

Drawing his own legs up, Shane wrapped his arms around them and muttered softly, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t talking about our relationship Ry.” A small understanding nod and a small hitched breath was the only reply for a few minutes.

“Why does it bother you if people know?” Ryan asked on a sharp intake of breath. His voice broke on the last word and Shane felt sick with the sound. “About this? Us?” A puffed out humorless laugh and then, “Are you ashamed of me?”

“What? No! That’s not—no!” Dread gripped at his lungs and he couldn’t breathe. “I’m not ashamed of you, or us, or anything like that! I just—I meant that I couldn’t… I couldn’t do it. Not like Steven or Andrew can.” This wasn’t how he wanted to approach the subject. It wasn’t how he wanted to admit it and the nausea was almost unbearable.

Dark eyes looked up though clumped lashes and Ryan’s arms slipped tighter around his legs. He looked like a child. The thought struck him like a blow to the chest and Shane could only reach out and trace his knuckles along Ryan’s cheek. “I can’t share you.” It came spilling out like an over filled pot left to boil. Too hot, too much to be contained.

Ryan leaned into the touch with a sigh. “So instead you want to keep our relationship a secret.”

“I don’t want to share you with the world, Ry. No one else needs to know what we have. Andrew and Steven can keep that spotlight. They live for that spotlight. I—don’t. All I need is you, Ryan. All I want is you.” He couldn’t stop the words once they started, couldn’t pull back and rethink. Because if he did that, they wouldn’t be said. And Ryan… Ryan deserved to know. To understand. “I’m not trying to keep us a secret. I just don’t want to post it on fuckin Instagram for the world to scrutinize.”

His hand trailed down and back to wrap around the back of Ryan’s neck. “People, fans, they already suspect something’s between us and you know how they are. If we were to make some big deal about coming out or whatever—“ A harsh breath and a shake of his head, “It’ll be like throwing a meatball to starving wolves. I want to be able to enjoy what we have. I’ve seen couples fall apart after going public and I don’t—I don’t want to resent you, Ry.”

Ryan moved one hand to grip the outside of Shane’s knee as he exhaled slowly. “I don’t want to share you like that, but if that’s what you want,” Ryan looked up sharply, eyes frantically searching Shane’s neutral expression. “I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for you, you know that.” He could feel the tightening in his chest loosen at the admittance. Could feel his fears swirling down the drain as Ryan’s insecurity cracked away.

“I wasn’t meaning to hide you away as some dirty secret. I just wanted to enjoy being with you like a normal person.”

“I don’t need the world to know, Shane.” It was whispered into the small space between their folded knees. “I just want you to stop pulling away from me like you’ve been burned every time we touch on camera. I’m tired of thinking you don’t care about me.” His fingers tightened on the uncomfortably wet fabric of Shane’s pajama pants. “We don’t have to explicitly say anything but I don’t want you pretending we’re less than what we actually are.”

His hand fell away as Shane’s hand tightened around the nape of his neck. “I don’t need to do some public announcement or some grand gesture, I just need you, my boyfriend, beside me.”

Shane nodded numbly as he leaned forward to press his forehead to Ryan’s. “Yeah… yeah okay. I think I can do that.” It was breathed against his lips as Ryan’s curled into a gentle smile.

“I know you can, big guy.” He pressed their lips together before pulling away with a mischievous smile, “You know what else I need?”

“Hmm?”

“To get out from under this water. I’m freezing and pruney.” Shane wheezed out a low laugh and shook his head before pushing himself up to reach behind Ryan’s head and turn the water off. Stepping out of the tub he smiled warmly down at Ryan.

“I’ll get you a towel.” Ryan smiled up at him, open and honest and something warm and gooey melted in his heart. He turned to go back into the hotel room for dry clothes and the fluffy towel in the closet when Ryan’s low voice called back to him,

“Hey, Shane?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to share you, either.” He could hear it clear as a bell. Tucked neatly behind his own words. I love you too. It warmed him from the top of his head down to his own pruney, sopping toes.

The world didn’t need to know what they meant to each other. As long as Ryan knew, and Shane knew, that was all that mattered.

#my writing #shyan #fanfiction tropes #bigboybergara #I really honestly didn't mean for it to get so--#angsty #mentioned standrew #because of who I am as a person right now #I couldn't help myself #Sorry bout that

27 notes · View notes

nanaminsonyfans · 4 years ago

Text

Between Worlds; Chapter One

Previous, Next, Masterlist

A/N: Hey! I really appreciate all the world of encouragement from all of you. This is the first chapter, I am very proud of this one, it was about four pages long in my google doc so have fun with that info! This is about 1634 words in it. I think I should just put this here, there will always possibly be mild language. I do not own any of these characters. Please enjoy this chapter!

i do not own this gif

y/n = your name

"Black snow?” You ask confused, your head still foggy. Then the smell of smoke triggered your memory. Black snow. “Fire Nation…” You spoke breathlessly and pulled your hand away from Appa. “You’re right.” Katara said, “They might’ve seen the glow when I bent you out.” Oh yeah. You remembered now. “I’m y/n...and you are Katara and Sokka yes?” You said smiling warmly. “Uhh how would you know that?” The snarky voice of Sokka spoke.

Shit.

“Uh..haha I’m the avatar duh! I know everything haha..” You say, trying to convince yourself more than them. “Right.” Katara said giving you a motherly smile that made you feel safe. “We better get going then.” You said as you climbed up on Appa. “Well? Hop on we’ll get there faster.” You gave them a childish grin, earning a soft giggle from Katara. Once the two siblings climbed up on the flying bison, you spoke the magic words.

“Appa! Yip yip!”

It felt amazing to say that, you always wanted to say that. You used to run around yelling ‘yip yip’ when you were younger. It was a fond memory but, those memories seemed so distant now, you felt conflicted. You tried to remember your mother’s face. You couldn’t. ‘Why can’t I remember my mother?’ You blinked back tears, they felt like icicles against your skin. You let go of the reins on Appa to wipe your eyes as you sniffled to hide the tears.

Katara moved to the edge of the saddle to look over at you. Your h/c hair blew in the wind as Appa landed behind the village. “Hey...y/n, are you okay?” She asked softly placing a hand on your shoulder before you slid down. “Hmm?” You processed what she said, leaving your little world. “Oh yes. I’m fine. Just...how long was I out?” You already knew the answer, but you wanted to seem clueless.

“One hundred years.” Sokka spoke with a bit of resentment in his voice. “Oh. That’s a long time huh?” You asked yourself more than them. “Appa lay down. We don’t want anyone to see you, okay buddy?” You said softly jumping back up to the saddle to grab your glider. The black snow seemed to fall in thicker clumps. They were getting close. You knew how this went. You’d have to fight the Fire Nation, fight Zuko. You gulped. ‘Put on a happy face.’ You thought to yourself.

“Let’s go to the village. Everyone will be excited to see you!” Katara spoke happily, grabbing your hand as she ran in. Sokka followed, a bunch of children running to him with snowballs. You let out a soft giggle and followed Katara. She introduced you to everyone, it was a fairly small village, but the people seemed happy.

“This is my gran-gran.” Katara said gesturing to an old woman with grey hair and tanned skin, much like Katara. You bowed, “It is a pleasure to meet you.” You said in a respectful tone. “Oh dear, it’s alright. I’m honored to be able to live long enough to see you.” The grandmother spoke softly tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Though, we all thought you were a male.” You turned pale, this has to be a dream. Your head started to hurt.

“Excuse me, Katara is there anywhere I could lay down for a while? I think I’m getting a literal brain freeze.” You smiled weakly rubbing your temples. “Oh! Of course, I’m sorry. I should have thought about this before. Follow me.” Katara leads you to a small igloo with a thin cot. “I’ll leave you alone for a bit.” She smiled sweetly and walked out. As soon as she left you pinched your arm.

“Ow!” You hissed quietly. You always heard that if you’re lucid dreaming, you can’t feel pain. You can feel it. Oh no. If you were stuck here...you would feel the lightening from Azula when she almost killed Aang. That was the most memorable moment for you. You gulped hugging your knees to your chest as cold tears rolled down your rosy cheeks. The scent of smoke was getting more forceful as it entered your lungs. You coughed before you heard the sound of something heavy slamming down on land. “Shit.” You murmured standing up.

“Where is the avatar?!” You recognized that voice, it was commanding yet, had so much hurt behind it. You swooned slightly at the fact that you could see Zuko face to face. Not just through your screen. Katara ran into the igloo in an erratic state. “They’re here to take you, so don’t go out.” She said pushing you deeper into the home. “Katara, I am the avatar. I can handle a few soldiers.” You narrowed your eyes at the other girl. “It’s the prince of the fire nation-” She was cut short by a few screams of children. “Katara, I’m not letting your people get killed.” You said sternly, gripping your glider tightly as you walked out. Your grip was so tight your knuckles turned white, blending in with the snow as you stalked over to him.

Prince Zuko.

As much as it hurt your heart, you had to do this. You let out a deep exhale, leaving a foggy cloud in return. “Leave them alone.” You glared at the teenage boy across from you. Zuko whipped around with a snarl. “The avatar...is a woman?” He hissed then laughed. “We were all told you were a man. This will be the last time you ever surprise me.” He growled staring at you as a small smirk formed. You twirled your staff like glider around your fingers. “Let’s make a deal, Prince Zuko.” You said as you started to walk in a circle, him following suit, eyes fixated on yours.

“What type of deal.” He spoke in a demanding tone that sent shivers down your spine. You smirked and blew a gust of wind at him, knocking him down. “If I win, you leave this water tribe and never come back, but if you win...I’ll go with you.” You sighed softly. “Deal?” Zuko got up with a hateful glare at you. Man, if looks could kill, he certainly would have slaughtered you. “Deal.” He growled kicking a wave of fire at you.

You let out a small yelp and backflipped away. You started to pant and sweat. Good Airbenders can control their body temperature right? You cleared your head as well as taking a deep breath then sent another gust of wind. It came so naturally to you, and it felt exhilarating. Zuko kicked multiple waves of fire at you, you dodging each one. He screamed in frustration and let out a punch of fire at you, getting closer as well. You exhaled bending back to dodge him, as well as tripping him with your staff. “Stupid Avatar!” He yelled irritated, good. You had to let him catch you. Zuko ended up tackling you, pinning you to the ground. Guards started to walk off the ship to assist him with you.

Zuko’s cheeks flushed pink by being so close to a female, especially a strong one...He gulped which was only noticeable to you as the guards grabbed you. The cold made everyone’s noses and cheeks pink, so he had an excuse right? Wrong. Firebenders have a warmer body temperature than anyone else. You noticed and tinted a light shade of pink as well. “Ahem- Take her to the ship!” He barked his orders and followed behind the guards that were carrying you. “Y/n no!” Sokka and Katara yelled from the village.

‘Y/n? What a stunning name…” Zuko thought, absentmindedly of course. He shook his head and turned to you, tied up against a pole on the first floor of the ship. He walked over too you examining your staff. “Hey! Give that back!” You screamed in anger as Zuko took away your staff glider. He smirked and handed it to Iroh, your eyes following it. You normally wouldn’t care for an object, but you felt a deep connection with it. “Take this to my chambers-” “Oh, I’d like to take you to your chambers!” You hissed at Zuko, you meant it to be scary and intimidating. It wasn’t. If anything it was pathetic, earning the prince to turn red as everyone laughed at you and him. “I’ll take care of it myself.” He hissed grabbing the staff and marching away, disappearing into the dark metal cavern.

You let out an irritated sigh blowing a strand of hair out of your face. You glanced around, seeing the old man. You smiled softly remembering how kind and loving he is. As you closed your eyes and relaxed your body, you knew what you must do. The ship shook as a powerful gust of wind went through the ship. It all happened in a blur to anyone but you.

Your body seemed to fly through the ship making a beeline for the prince’s chambers. You busted through, the metal door crashing down onto the floor. Alarms rang out making your head pound seemingly to the rhythm of the sirens. You groaned and grabbed the staff from Zuko forcefully. “Don’t you ever take something from a lady again.” You glared before leaving to the bow of the ship. You whistled calling for Appa.

You heard his call back and saw a gust of loose snow as he took off. You could see two figures on his saddle, you smiled to yourself. “Woah! Slow down there buddy!” You heard Sokka scream in a panic. You used your glider to fly up, the air hitting your face, it felt good. You landed safely on Appa’s head, holding onto the reins. “Hey there big guy.” You cooed as he flew through the air, he groaned in response to you. “Hey Y/N?” Katara asked in a motherly tone, you turned around. “Yes?” You gave her a childish grin yet again.

“Where are we going?”

“The Southern Air Temple.”

A/N: I really hope you like this chapter! I worked really hard on this and i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i do!

499 notes · View notes

spencers-renaissance · 3 years ago

Text

Rain is a Chance to be Touched Ch.15

if we cannot find the light, we will always make our own

Chapter Fourteen

This is the fifteenth chapter in my ongoing hotchreid fic! Please click here for the fic summary, full tags, trigger warnings, more information etc.

Last Chapter: Derek & Emily called Spencer for a consult, and with him off his antidepressants, things very quickly fell apart.

In This Chapter: Hotch & Penelope pick up the pieces.

tw: depression-related exhaustion, disordered thinking, reference to last chapter's breakdown, discussion of medication

Word Count: 4K

RCT Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

(Quick Note: A couple of chapters ago I referred to Spencer's psychiatrist by she/her pronouns, but I forgot that I assigned that character he/him pronouns wayyy back, so I've decided to go with that one. I just wanted to address that in case anyone else caught it like I did! I apologise for the mistake & any confusion it might have caused.)

AARON

"Find my hand in the darkness and if we cannot find the light, we will always make our own." — Tyler Knott Gregson

Aaron doesn’t fall asleep until well into the small hours of the morning, finally lulled into a cold dreamless sleep once he’s cried himself out. He keeps as quiet as he can, but he knows he won’t wake Spencer up anyway: he’s completely exhausted, and he’s out cold. It’s a small consolation, but he tries to take a small bit of comfort in knowing that his boyfriend is at least getting the rest he needs.

He wakes up only a couple of hours after he falls asleep, and despite feeling completely exhausted, he sets about the things he needs to do. The first thing he does is call Strauss to request a family day — thankfully, the bureau’s been a lot more understanding of his situation since Haley died — before texting Derek and telling him that he needs to take charge of the team if they get sent on a case. Then he calls Jess and asks if she can collect Jack from his sleepover at lunchtime and have him until the evening.

With the technicalities sorted out, he makes a phone call to Spencer's psychiatrist. At this point, if he has to drag him kicking and screaming, if Spencer never talks to him again, if it calls an irreparable rift in their relationship, it won’t get in the way of him getting Spencer the help he needs. After an emergency appointment for 11am is booked, he collapses onto the sofa and calls Penelope.

“Hotch? It’s not even 7am, is everything alright?”

Just hearing her voice, hearing someone ask if he’s okay, is enough to push him over the edge. “No,” he admits into the phone, not even trying to disguise the emotion in his voice.

“I’m on my way,” she says immediately, and he can hear a flurry of activity start up on the other end of the line. “What’s happened, Hotch?”

He breathes out shakily, running a hand down his face. The early morning sun, the bustling city below him, the bright apartment all seems so contrary to the current situation. “Spencer hit a breaking point last night,” he says shakily, unsure exactly how to word it. “Derek and Emily called him to consult on a case, and they were as brisk and focused as we all are when we’re working, but he’s out of practice; he’s not used to that way of doing things anymore. It triggered him and sent him into what I’m gonna guess was a panic attack? But honestly, Penelope… it looked like a breakdown.”

“Oh God,” she says quietly, and the sound of her exiting her apartment reassures Aaron a little.

“I had no idea how to handle it,” he says, dissolving into tears. “He locked himself in the bathroom and was literally tearing his hair out… there were clumps of hair all over the floor. He was screaming at me to leave, telling me he wasn’t good enough that he forgot his place? I had no idea what he was saying—”

Penelope interrupts him. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“Well, when I first found out about his depression, Spencer told me something about how he didn’t feel like he was good for anything except his brain and IQ, you know? He said that he wasn’t cut out for friendships or relationships and I’m pretty sure he called that his ‘place’. It’s stuck with me because of just how awful it sounded.”

“Fuck,” Aaron mutters, sniffing as a fresh wave of tears come to his eyes. “So Emily and Derek consulting him for their case triggered those thoughts again.”

“Sounds like it,” she agrees. “They’re gonna feel so guilty.”

Aaron knows she’s in a tricky situation: her girlfriend and close friend sending her best friend into a near-breakdown, and for a brief minute he feels guilty for roping her in before reminding himself that she wouldn’t be anywhere else if Spencer needed her.

“Yeah, I don’t even know what I’m gonna do about that,” he sighs. “I thought about not telling them, because Spencer doesn’t need everyone knowing about every step of his recovery; it’s personal, right? But more secrets between everyone… I don’t know, it doesn’t feel like a good idea. Especially not for something this serious.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” Penelope promises. “Look, I’m in my car now. I’ll be there in 10, okay?”

He sighs in relief. “Thanks, Penelope.”

They hang up and he drops his phone next to him before staring up at the ceiling for a minute, rubbing his temples. Forcing himself off the sofa, he considers putting the coffee machine on but he doesn’t want the sound of the bean grinder to wake Spencer up, so he settles for a cup of instant coffee instead, putting a slice of bread in the toaster as well.

By the time he’s finished his second slice, Penelope’s letting herself in.

“He’s still asleep?”

He nods, watching as she dumps her handbag on the armchair and walks further into the apartment. It’s always strange seeing her without her usual colourful outfits and makeup on, and although he’s gotten used to it in the past year as they’ve rallied around Spencer, sometimes it still reminds him of seeing her in her casual clothes for the first time when she got shot a couple of years ago.

“I’m just gonna grab some breakfast and a tea,” she says quietly, helping herself to everything in the kitchen as she always does. “You go and sit down, I’ll be over in a minute and we can discuss a game plan.”

He obeys, closing his eyes against the headache coming on, but it’s only a couple of minutes before Penelope’s sitting in the armchair opposite the sofa with a cup of chamomile tea and a slice of marmalade toast.

“Right, the first thing we need to tackle is convincing him to get back on his meds,” Penelope says seriously, keeping her voice low to avoid waking Spencer up.

He nods. “I know. I’ve made an emergency appointment with his psychiatrist for 11am, it’s just a case of a) getting him there and b) making him listen to him.”

“The problem is that he sees going back on medication as admitting defeat or failing at recovery. We need to have a really honest, frank conversation with him about it, but I just don’t know how we’re gonna get him to believe us.”

“Maybe we should use our own experiences? He doesn’t think any less of me or think I’m weak when I take pain medication when my injuries flare up. He wouldn’t think any less of you for accepting pain meds throughout your recovery after you were shot. He doesn’t think less of his mother because she relies on psychiatric medication.”

Penelope nods. “He has a twisted perception of himself. One rule for himself, another for everyone else.”

Something about her words makes Aaron feel suddenly, desperately sad. He’s always been sad for Spencer and what he’s gone through, and he’s been crying most of the night, but the realisation, the reassertion, of just how much Spencer hates himself, what his brain’s put him through over the last two years cuts deep, winding him.

“I just wish he could see himself the way we see him,” he says sadly, another tear spilling down his cheek, as though he has anything left to give.

Penelope’s expression tells him she feels the same.

Hotch goes in to check on Spencer as the clock approaches nine, and his heart breaks for the thousandth time when he finds him staring listlessly at the wall again.

“Morning, baby,” he says gently, making his way into the room.

Thankfully, it grabs Spencer’s attention, and he turns to look at him, misery and self-loathing written all over his face. He doesn’t say anything, but he holds eye contact with Aaron long enough for him to understand that it’s okay for him to be there, and he makes his way further into the room, climbing onto the bed. He’s not expecting Spencer to immediately latch onto him, burying his face in his t-shirt as he clings to him like he’s going somewhere, but that’s exactly what happens.

“Penelope’s in the living room,” he murmurs, carding his fingers through Spencer’s hair. There’s no expectation for him to reply, so he lets the words settle over them as they lay quietly together; the calm after the storm. Aaron hopes it won’t double as the before as well.

After a good couple of minutes, Spencer shifts, and Aaron follows his lead as they shuffle out of the bedroom towards Penelope’s contemplative perch on the sofa. Spencer heads straight towards her, curling into her side and drawing the warm comfort Penelope always has to offer.

“Oh, baby genius,” she whispers, kissing the top of his head. “You’re okay. We love you so much.”

It’s apparently the wrong thing to say, because Spencer immediately withdraws, curling in on himself as he starts to cry.

“Hey, hey, Spencer,” Aaron soothes calmly as he rushes over to his side, “what’s going on?”

Penelope starts to apologise but Aaron shakes his head and she settles for resting a gentle hand on his side instead.

“Can you tell us what’s wrong, Spencer?” Aaron asks, a knot forming in his stomach as he hopes against hope that this won’t turn into a repeat of last night. “We can’t help you unless you talk to us.”

Spencer takes a ragged breath in, turning his face slightly towards Aaron’s direction, and his chest clenches at the bags under his sore, red eyes; his pallid skin. “I’m sorry,” he says shakily, wiping at the tears on his face.

“You don’t have to apologise, Spencer. You just need to tell us how we can help you,” Penelope says gently, her hand rubbing small, consoling circles on his side.

Spencer meets his eyes, his face crumpling as he does and Aaron, in that moment, is reminded distinctly of a star collapsing in on itself. Spencer heaves a painful sob as two more tears spill down his cheeks. “I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

The admission seems obvious at surface level, but the magnitude of such a statement isn’t lost on either Aaron nor Penelope.

Aaron sighs sadly. “Come here, baby.” Spencer falls gladly into Aaron’s embrace, sobbing dejectedly into his shoulder, sounding so tired and defeated that it’s painful to listen to.

Once he’s finished crying himself out, Aaron and Penelope switch places, Aaron moving to sit on the sofa with Spencer propped up against him and Penelope settling into the armchair.

He approaches his next words carefully. “I’ve made an appointment for you to see Dr Parker at 11am. Penelope and I will take you, and we both think that you should talk to him about going back on the venlafaxine.”

To his surprise Spencer just nods tiredly, no longer crying and instead resuming his blank staring.

“And we also think you should consider talking to Derek and Emily about what happened yesterday,” Penelope suggests quietly, an encouraging expression on her face.

Spencer looks up at her, emotions flying across his face as he processes her words and how he feels about them. Briefly, he looks like he’s about to argue, about to shout or get mad, but he quickly deflates. “They’ll feel guilty,” he says miserably. “Not their fault.”

“Your relationships with everyone have come a long way, Spencer, and that’s great. But everyone is still fragile and affected by everything that’s happened in the past year, and keeping secrets like these is only going to hurt everyone more.”

Spencer’s still and silent for a moment before he nods reluctantly.

“I think that maybe,” Aaron ventures cautiously, “you should avoid doing any consulting work for a while. It’s clearly damaging for you and is always going to come with potential triggers, and when you’re already feeling sad and vulnerable, it’s really just a catalyst for an event like yesterday evening.”

Spencer nods at that, too, and Aaron wishes he could take his acquiescence as a win, but he knows it’s coming from a place of defeat and despair, and he’ll never take any consolation in that.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Aaron says. “We have about an hour until we need to leave, so why don’t we get you some food, get you into the shower, and then you can rest for any left over time? Does that sound okay?”

At Spencer’s agreement, Penelope heads to the kitchen to whip him up something a bit more nutritious than the toast they both settled for, while Aaron takes him to the bathroom to wash up.

“Are you alright on your own?” he asks as he sets the shower up for him, Spencer perching on the edge of the bath as he waits.

Instead of answering his question though, panic suddenly crosses Spencer’s face and he looks at Aaron urgently. “Jack!”

“Hey, it’s alright,” he says soothingly. “Jess is gonna pick him up from his sleepover at lunchtime and have him for the afternoon. I’ve taken a personal day and unless a case comes in, Penelope will be here for as long as we need her. Everything’s in hand.”

“But it’s Jack’s spring break! You should be spending time with him, not herding me into the shower—”

At the first sign of tears, Aaron is quick to step in, reassuring him as best he can. “Hey, I will spend time with him, alright? He was already going to be with Sam all morning, and he’ll be dropped off before dinner, so Jess is only going to have him for a couple of hours. And if you’re feeling well enough once we get back from the doctor’s, then he can come home early, but right now, your health is the most important thing we need to deal with, you hear me?”

Spencer nods reluctantly, but he can tell that the thought of cutting into Aaron’s time with Jack is only fuelling his self-loathing. Having to accept that there’s nothing he can do about that, he makes sure he’s okay in the shower before heading out into the kitchen to find Penelope.

“I can’t tell if that went well or not,” she says quietly, not looking up from the frying pan currently cooking eggs and bacon.

Aaron sighs, leaning against the counter top, his eyes fixed on the bathroom door. “I think it went about as well as it could.”

“I texted Emily and Derek, and they’re going to pop over this afternoon if we don’t get a case,” she says. “If Spencer’s not up for it, we can rearrange, but I thought it was better to be prepared.”

“No, you’re right, thank you for doing that, Penelope. What would I do without you?”

“Aw, stop it, bossman,” she says, grinning as she nudges him playfully.

He smiles. “I mean it.”

“I know. But I’m happy to help you guys out. I’d do anything for Spencer, and I know he’d do anything for me.”

“Without a doubt.”

Spencer emerges from the bathroom a few moments later, clad in a white t-shirt and some tracksuit bottoms Aaron is pretty sure are both actually his, damp curly hair a mess on his head. He can’t help but smile despite himself; his boyfriend looking so damn cute will always be a small pick-me-up on even the worst of days.

“Penelope’s cooked up a storm for you,” he says as brightly as the situation allows, guiding him to the sofa and tucking him in with a couple of blankets to get him as comfortable as possible.

He gets a small smile at that, and a murmured ‘thank you’ when Penelope brings him over a plate of bacon and eggs, arranged as perfectly as he’d expect with Penelope serving as cook.

He flicks the TV to the discovery channel, managing to catch the beginning of a documentary on big cats, and he counts it as a win when it catches Spencer’s attention, hoping it takes his mind off the pain he’s feeling just a little bit.

They spend the next forty minutes watching documentaries with Spencer before Penelope notices the time and begins herding them out the door towards the parking garage.

“No way,” Aaron laughs as she heads towards her car.

“What?”

“You are not driving, Penelope,” he says, laughing even more at her incredulous reaction. “I’ve seen you; you drive like a maniac. We’re taking my car.”

She pouts. “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Does this mean I have to sit in the back, too?”

He just levels her with a look that has her sighing dramatically and flinging herself into the backseat, but when he looks over at Spencer and sees a smile on his face, he’s suddenly even more thankful for Penelope.

They sit in the waiting room while Spencer has his appointment and try desperately not to make each other more anxious than they already feel. Penelope flicks through fashion magazines at a pace that tells Aaron she’s not reading a single word, and Aaron reads over and over the case notes he’d bought with him to pass the time, no more going in the second, third, eleventh time than it did the first.

Finally, though, Spencer emerges from Dr Parker’s office with a script in hand and they both sigh a small breath of relief at the idea that he’s finally getting the help he’s been needing so badly.

“Okay, baby?” he murmurs as Spencer reaches for his hand on the way out of the psychiatrist’s office, and something loosens in his chest when Spencer nods and smiles, looking happier and more relaxed than he has in weeks.

Derek and Emily come over just after lunchtime, and Penelope gets up to open the door for them, Spencer and Aaron not moving from their position on the couch, Spencer resting his head in Aaron’s lap as one of his favourite sci-fi movies is playing on the TV.

When he sees who it is, though, Spencer moves to sit up slightly, still keeping himself folded into Aaron’s side.

“Hey, Spence,” Emily says softly, taking a seat in the armchair while Penelope comes over to perch on the arm, wrapping an arm around her girlfriend, “what’s this about?”

Both Emily and Derek look confused enough that Aaron knows Spencer will be able to tell that neither he nor Penelope told them what happened last night, willing to give him a last minute out if that’s what he needs, as well as full control over the narrative.

Derek comes over to the sofa and sits next to Spencer, keeping enough distance between them to keep Spencer comfortable, though he still rests a warm hand on his ankle. “What’s going on? You can tell us anything, pretty boy, you know that.”

Spencer looks to Aaron, and the expression on his face conveys what he needs immediately.

“Yesterday, your consult with Spencer on the methanol poisoning case triggered an… event,” he explains, trying to choose his words carefully. He wants to tell the truth, but he also doesn’t want to sound like he’s blaming Derek and Emily or use language Spencer wouldn’t be happy with. “It was a breaking point of sorts and as such, he decided to go back on his medication.”

Relief tied up with confusion are the first emotions he watches play over Emily and Derek’s faces. Everyone’s been hoping Spencer will return to his medication, but he knows they’ll want more information as to what exactly happened and why they’ve been asked over.

“An event?” Emily asks, sounding a little hesitant.

Before Aaron can answer, Spencer speaks up, his voice a little tired and croaky but convicted nonetheless. “It was a breakdown,” he says plainly, not sugar-coating his words. “I was in a bad place already and I was out of practice with what a time sensitive case entails, and it sent me into a tailspin. It reminded me of all the feelings that working in the BAU caused that year, and I couldn’t handle it. I lashed out at Aaron and…”

“The details don’t matter,” Aaron rescues his tailed off sentence. “The fact is we thought that more secrets were only going to make things worse in the long run, and you needed to understand what happened last night since Spencer going back on his meds was bound to raise questions anyway.”

“I don’t want you to feel guilty,” Spencer interjects, his voice anxious and urgent. “It wasn’t your fault, it’s just the way of the BAU and if I’d been on my medication like I should’ve been in the first place it wouldn’t have been a problem, it was just a horrible medley of circumstances. But I’ve decided that I won’t be doing any consults for a while until I can get my head on straight again. It may be that I’m never able to do them without being triggered, but we’re going to play it by ear.”

Aaron smiles at him proudly, kissing the top of his head as soon as he buries back in for a cuddle.

“Oh, Spence,” Emily sighs sadly. “I’m so sorry, we didn’t even think. We were so caught up in the case we didn’t even stop to consider you and how you’d interpret things.”

“I don’t want you to feel guilty,” Spencer says again, this time from his place on Aaron’s chest. “I’m sorry that it had to be you guys that triggered the breaking point.”

“We should’ve been more considerate,” Derek says firmly, his expression filled with regret. “The last thing I’d ever want is to make you feel the way I did last year, and even though other circumstances contributed to what happened last night, we still failed you, kid, and I’m so sorry for that.”

“It’s fine, seriously. In a way, I’m glad it happened. Something had to give, and I’m glad that I can look forward to finally feeling normal again. I talked to my psychiatrist this morning and even though… it still feels a little bit like giving up, I feel better about it. And we’re gonna work on my attitude to medication in the next couple of sessions until I feel more comfortable about it.”

Aaron knows how much Spencer hates talking about his recovery, so it feels like a big step for him to be so personal and vulnerable in front of four different people, even if they are all virtually his family at this point.

“I’m proud of you, Spencer,” Emily says earnestly, and even though Aaron can tell she still feels guilty, at least it’s no longer the most dominant emotion on her face.

“Me too, kid. You’ve been through hell and back and we’re all so proud of you for getting to where you are.”

Spencer smiles gratefully, but Aaron can tell he’s exhausted from the events of the morning, so he sends a look to Penelope and she shows Emily and Derek out, but not before giving Emily a kiss and being teased by Derek for it.

“Right, baby,” he says as the apartment quietens and it’s just the three of them left. “I think you could do with a nap, don’t you?”

“Don’t wanna leave you,” Spencer mumbles tiredly, clinging to his t-shirt.

“Well how about I come and sit with you while you sleep, yeah? You go and get tucked in and I’ll be in in a minute, I promise.”

“You better.” It’s not much, but it’s the closest to teasing Spencer’s come in weeks, and he’ll absolutely take it.

He gives Penelope a warm hug and disappears into the bedroom.

“Looks like I can leave you to it,” Penelope says quietly as soon as the door’s closed behind him.

Aaron looks at her seriously, before wrapping her in a rare hug. “Thank you for today. I mean it. I don’t know what we would’ve done this past year without you, Penelope, but we sure as hell wouldn’t be where we are now. I’m always gonna be thankful that Spencer has someone as wonderful as you to call a best friend.”

“Hotch,” she says tearily, “I love you both so much. You don’t have to thank me, but it means a lot that you did.”

He smiles at her. “You should go back to the BAU. Go and find Derek and Emily who are no doubt beating themselves up and tell them they’re being ridiculous.”

She gives him a mock salute as she smiles back. “You got it, boss.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Keep me posted,” she says as she gathers the last of her things and heads to the door. “Let me know how he’s doing tonight and I’ll pop round after work to see him tomorrow, okay?”

“Perfect.”

As soon as she’s gone, he climbs into bed with Spencer and wraps him up in his arms, feeling — for the first time in weeks — a distinct conviction that everything is going to be okay.

Chapter Sixteen

Soooo, we don't hate me anymore? I really enjoyed writing this part of the fic, I'm such a sucker for third act angst and the resolution is always so satisfying to me, so I hope I managed to give you guys the same feeling. Only one more chapter to go, and then we're done wtf, how did that happen? I can't wait for you to all read the happy lil ending I wrote for you! See you next Saturday, for the very last time :( If this chapter has brought anything up for you and you're feeling unsafe please check out this link <3

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @reidology @transhanniballecter @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @marvel-ous-m @oliverbrnch @sbeno22 @aaron-hotchner187 @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @anxious-enby (add yourself to my taglist here!)

13 notes · View notes

onwesterlywinds · 3 years ago

Text

Catspaw Blackmarket

Part of my Godhands series, set roughly in the year 1543 of the Sixth Astral Era - thirty-four years before Hydaelyn’s present-day, and fourteen years before Ala Mhigo’s fall.

GODHANDS IS NOW ON AO3! If you like it, send over some kudos!

"Get up, Ashley."

The voice tore him from sleep, and the accompanying nudge to his foot sent his dreams scattering. He lunged forward from his pile of discarded jackets, grasping for his bearings, only for something made of rough-spun fabric to collide with his face: a plain hempen bag, which fell into his lap as his heart pounded and his thoughts raced in confusion.

"Morning," said Élodie. She sauntered into his field of view, spinning a keyring around her finger - the key to the safehouse where he and Marco had taken up shelter. "We have to head to the Profondeurs right away, so the longer it takes for you to get up, the more we'll need to run on our way there."

It took him several tries to fully grasp what she was saying. "What the fuck?!"

"I'm serious. We're on a tight timeline, so you'd better come to life quick."

Absent was a teasing comment, or even an exhausted groan at his flank; sure enough, when he glanced around the safehouse, there was no trace of Marco where he had fallen asleep beside Ashley only a short while before. "Where's-"

Élodie set herself to tying back her long black hair into a simple bun. "He's getting your knives repaired in the Sprawl. We'll meet him there later, assuming our own work goes well, but he said I could borrow you for a bit. We talked it over right in front of you; you really slept through it all?"

"Ugh." He blinked and tried to rub the last remnants of sleep out of his eyes. "Yeah, I... I've just woken up."

"I hadn't noticed," she quipped. "So are you ready?"

He had half a mind to refuse to go with her as a matter of principle, to insist that she ask for his assistance before taking it for granted. But he would never deny Marco his presence, just as he had no good reason to deny Élodie whatever she needed now. His safety with her was no question: he had never seen Marco or Élodie lie to one another, and Marco would have put up much more of a fight if he'd left against his will. "Why the Profondeurs, then?"

"Listen, not to be an arse, but there's literally no time. If you're not coming with me, fine - but I need to make this happen or I'm fucked."

He staggered to his feet in his effort to quickly find his balance. With his knife in Marco's hands for repair and no other possessions to call his own, he needed scarcely any time to ready himself; still, he took a moment to stretch out his shoulders and breathe in deep before he gave Élodie a nod that was much more confident than he felt.

"Lead on," he said.

Were someone to ask him the way into the Profondeurs, Ashley would have thought himself capable of giving directions. Several times along their run, he recognized paths that led toward the deepest reaches of the Undercity: paths from which he had seen other Duskwights come and go, or crossroads that he had carved into his memory from piecemeal snippets of maps and muscle memory and directions spoken aloud. Élodie's chosen course skirted every one of those instincts, had him second-guessing himself and his position in the Undercity at every turn.

The two of them met with only a few others along their route - not deliberately going out of their way to remain unseen, but crossing just enough bypassers to avoid attracting suspicion. Only the final half malm of their journey was completed in solitude, as they traversed a narrow precipice jutting out over a deep and bottomless darkness below. Ashley made it more than halfway across before he realized what it was he faced, and just how near he was to some unfathomable end. From there, once their path widened, Élodie lowered her stance into an impossibly slow pace and Ashley followed her lead, treading with greater care even than when faced with the threat of falling to their deaths. He knew better than to ask the reason for their sudden caution. He traced out her footsteps with care until his calves ached from the strain of it, and yet his steps were as silent as hers. The quiet submerged him as surely as the darkness, until he heard, as clearly as if it came from somewhere deep within him, a series of low and steady clicks. They continued on; Élodie paused once, still crouched, to let out a deep exhalation of breath. He did not see when whatever danger they strode through had passed: Élodie simply rolled out her shoulders and resumed her usual posture.

"Right," she said, speaking as confidently as though their trek had not just demanded their utter silence. "We're here."

Élodie flicked open her lantern and blew out the candle. Whatever sound Ashley might have made to stop her died in his throat. He needed only to blink for his vision to adjust, and spots of deep gold bloomed into his view. The entire cavern shimmered as if lit by distant stars.

"Whoa," he breathed, despite himself.

She let out a rare snort of laughter but did not slow her pace. "It's called Jan's bloom. I need as much of it as we can gather. Here-" Her outline came closer, manifesting in the darkness more as the absence of gold than as any distinguishable shape. With one hand, she gently clasped his wrist; with the other, she passed him a new knife to replace the one Marco had taken for repairs, one with a dulled but even blade. "It should come right off the walls with this." Still holding him by the arm, she directed him over to the gold-speckled stone, where she held her hempen bag at the ready and ran her own knife along the cavern wall. With a light and tinny scrape, the moss fell easily into the sack.

"You take up that side," she instructed, and though he could not see where it was she pointed, he headed over to where the gold seemed to gather in the brightest clumps and she did not redirect him. The motion of scraping while holding the bag steady required somewhat more coordination than Élodie's example had made clear, but after only a few rounds of fumbling with the fabric, he set himself to work and soon fell into a rhythm marked by the almost melodic sound of metal against stone.

The moss gathered quickly in his bag, and the more of it he collected, the more his vision and hearing adjusted to his darkened surroundings. Soon every ilm of him, down to his bared nerves, responded to each and every stimulus: a subterranean breeze, a droplet of moisture from the cavern's high ceiling, even a reprise of the clicking they'd heard before summoned from somewhere deep in his mind.

"So, uh," he said at length, "what does this stuff do?"

"It's a deadly poison that kills Hyur on contact." He could not see her grin amid the darkness, but he did not need to; before he could even open his mouth to respond, she continued, "It has lots of different properties. On its own, it's a cure for sunlight headaches - or, if you steep it overnight along with some other herbs, it can help with anxiety. My aunt takes it, or else she doesn't get out of bed."

It was the first Élodie had ever spoken of her family. Rather than risk prying, he nodded, then remembered she likely couldn't see him in the dark. "So why do you need so much? Why bring me along?"

"It's... a long story."

"Élodie." His hand holding the knife stilled, hovering over a clump of Jan's bloom as thick as his thumb. "Come on."

"What?!"

"I'm just saying. I'm here because I chose to be. I'm just asking if I have any reason to worry."

For a while, she said nothing at all, but the sounds from her knife came faster than before. At last, she said, "Fine. I needed your help because this'll be my last time in the Profondeurs for a while. Maybe ever."

"Did something happen, or-"

"I really don't want to talk about it," she said. "Not right now, at least. How's your harvest coming along?"

He reached into his bag and gently pressed down on the moss he'd gathered. "Little under halfway full."

He did not hear her come up behind him until she breathed next to his ear. Her sudden proximity made him jump; he had not been so close to anyone except Marco for a long while. From somewhere near her neck, he thought he caught the scent of a vaguely earthy-smelling perfume.

"You're getting the hang of it," she said. There was no malice, no urgency in her voice. "Here-" She reached her knife arm over the top of his, coming up close behind him; she scraped her own knife along the underside of a small outcropping of rock, from which Jan's bloom growing in thick and lush clumps fell with ease into his open bag. She placed one of her hands on his elbow, as if to direct his arm holding his knife. "Open your mouth," she directed.

His face burned red in the darkness. "What?!"

"You'll be fine," she shot back, then adopted a teasing, singing tone. "Come on!"

He did as she instructed, waiting with his mouth hanging wide for at least a few seconds and feeling every ilm the fool, until Élodie placed a drop of Jan's bloom upon his tongue. It tasted like nothing he had ever tried before: bitter enough to make him nearly recoil at first, yet ending on a sweetness that reminded him of rolanberries.

"Don't worry," she said. "It's harmless like this - you can eat it right from the rock." Élodie demonstrated this by lifting the glint of her moss-laden knife to the height of her own lips. "Heat's what activates its properties. Put it in tea water, or leave it out on a hot day, and that's when it'll really start to kick in." She gave another look into the contents of his bag, then back up at him. "You look cute when you blush."

"Wh-"

"I can see way better than you in the dark, remember?" As he reeled at this newfound knowledge, she said, "Let's give it another quick go-around and then head out. I'd rather not have enough than risk getting caught here."

Élodie used the light pooling in her bag to find her matches. In the middle of her motion to reignite her lantern, she paused, bit her lip, and glanced back up at him.

"Thanks for coming with me," she said. Her voice held an unfamiliar waver. Then the lantern glowed anew, obscuring the Jan's bloom upon the walls once more - and as his eyes stung from the sudden brightness, he had the good sense not to comment on the tears gathered in her own eyes.

***

Ashley did not know when or where he had first heard tell of the Undercity as a child. He might have insisted he'd known of it for as long as he could remember, were it not for a string of nightmares he'd once had - of falling through cracks and haunted treasure and blades in the dark - that had forced his exasperated mother to sit awake with him for the better part of a week.

The Sprawl resembled those dreamlike fascinations more so than any other part of the Undercity he had yet seen. It was itself the closest thing the Undercity had to a city beneath the earth, with shops and dwellings crammed into close proximity under a low-hanging ceiling of stone. Most streets were only wide enough to permit a few people to pass, and blue lanterns illuminated the paths in lieu of a bright sky overhead.

Élodie scarcely bothered to conceal their harvest as she marched him through the narrow lanes. There was a pageantry to her carelessness: here, every step they took was under scrutiny, more so than even during their earlier journey in the Profondeurs. Together they passed conversations held at a whisper, children who halted to stare with open curiosity, curtains drawn and opened at random.

They ducked past a pair of green-robed Roegadyn and turned sideways down a grimy alleyway. There they arrived outside the Catspaw, a shop that to Ashley blended in with the rest of their surroundings, tucked behind a metal grate with a beaded curtain as its only defense. It resembled any other seedy apothecary one might have found in the Ala Mhigo, albeit with fewer wares on display.

"Wait here," Élodie said. "Don't talk to anyone, don't touch anything."

He might have protested at her lack of faith, were he any less exhausted, but the compounded fatigue of running and sneaking and secrecy were beginning to weigh on him. He merely held out his sack of Jan's bloom for her, and she took it with a wink.

Élodie pushed aside the curtain and the shopkeeper lifted his head to greet her. He was an older Duskwight man, though sturdy for his height; his grimy white hair was tied back from his shoulders in a low ponytail, and he offered her a smile full of perfectly straight teeth. They spoke together in tones too quiet for Ashley to distinguish words from, though the shopkeeper glanced his way more than once and Élodie often huffed and sighed and made a show of setting the two bags of Jan's bloom upon his seller's counter.

"Hey," came Marco from his left side.

Ashley let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding; his arms were crossed tight.

"How'd it go?" Marco asked.

"It..." Ashley shrugged, then figured Élodie's "don't talk to anyone" was unlikely to apply to Marco. "She's still in there, selling our haul. We were just about to go and meet you. What about the knives, did you-?"

"All set." Before Ashley could see that Marco had moved his hand, his friend slipped his newly resheathed dagger into his waistband at the left hip. "And I ran into Hazal, an old ally. She said she's got a job for us both, if you think you'd be up for some intimidation."

He made a noise before he could help it. When Marco gave him a look in response, he said, "Intimidation? We could scare the piss out of little kids, maybe, but I doubt we'd be anything but a nuisance to folk bigger than us."

Inside the shop, Élodie slammed her palm down on the counter with a bang, and he and Marco both jumped in alarm. "What do you mean, there's none left?!"

The shopkeeper appeared unfazed; if anything, his unctuous smile grew ever wider. "I mean precisely what I said," he drawled. "I've no more vera root for you. My supplier has doubled their asking price, and it's more trouble than it's worth to keep it stocked. Your attempts to blackmail me will not conjure what you need."

With a single breath, Élodie drew herself up to her full height. "How dare-"

"Do not think me a fool, Miss Fiel," the shopkeeper continued, still baring his perfect teeth. "It took all of a half a bell for word of your disownment to reach this street."

"I-"

"Allude to my relationships all you wish. Your juvenile gossip will not conjure vera root in my stores - nor will it make your dear Maman Hélène love you as before."

The words found their mark. At once Élodie stepped back, almost staggering, as though the shopkeeper had struck her. Ashley darted through the beaded curtain at once, sending its strands skittering against one another, and took up his practiced defensive stance between Élodie and the counter. Marco did not follow him inside but instead kept close watch at the entrance.

"You shut the fuck up," Ashley snarled.

"I need the vera root," Élodie sobbed behind him. "For a potion, it's-" My aunt takes it, or else she doesn't get out of bed. "Please."

Ashley unsheathed his newly repaired dagger, and the shopkeeper's sunken eyes followed the glint of its blade. "Tell me who your supplier is."

"Put that down, you pathetic, shitesucking little-"

"Tell me who they are. And if you lie, I swear I'll tear this place down."

Again the man's eyes darted to the blade lowered at Ashley's side, then to something on the shelves behind Élodie. "The Balam Ring," he said. "It's J'zhal Nunh of the Balam Ring. Now get out."

Élodie took in another unsteady breath from behind him. From the corner of his eye, Marco gave the most imperceptible of nods.

He opened his mouth to deliver one last parting threat to the shopkeeper but found his mind utterly blank. He resheathed his dagger with one hand, led Élodie out of the shop with the other, and made a hasty retreat with Marco into the shadows of the Sprawl.

"Well," Marco quipped. "At least we know you are up for intimidation."

"Oh, fuck off."

His friend only laughed. "I'm serious! That was amazing. And bloody terrifying."

Behind them, Élodie fell to her knees and wept.

"Hey." Marco's humor fled at once as he and Ashley rushed to her side. "Hey, now. We've got you."

They had to support her weight for the rest of their journey back to the safehouse. There, in their relative privacy, Marco gave her the last of their clean water and Ashley did his utmost to bundle her in the jackets they'd slept upon the previous night, but there was little else for either of them to do for her until the majority of her tears subsided.

"I'm sorry," she whispered at long last. Marco immediately shook his head, but she pressed on. "My clan's matriarch, Maman Hélène, she... she told me I wasn't allowed to go topside anymore. She was angry I've been learning alchemy; in my clan, it's something only married women do. She wanted me to marry her son and succeed her one day, but he's vile, and he's allowed to go topside whenever he wants, and... and it wasn't fair. So I left."

"Fuck," Ashley breathed.

"Wh-What?"

"You'd get kicked out of your family just for going up to the surface?"

Élodie heaved a shuddering, sniffling breath. "Our matriarch's word is law, Ashley. That's been our way, ever since the Gridanians drove us out of Gelmorra."

He had no response to that, and so he labored to wrap his thoughts around the enormity of what she was saying, and all that she was surely leaving unsaid.

"I d-didn't want you to think worse of me," she stammered. "Your family's been murdered, and Marco never had one to begin with." Her lip trembled, and the rest of her words fell out of her in a rush. "And I just left mine - all because I was too stupid and selfish to do the one thing asked of me."

"You're not," Ashley said. "You're not either of those things. And I'd never think worse of you for leaving a family like that."

"My aunt was depending on me," she sobbed. "She needs the tonic I make for her, and now... Now I don't know how I'll ever see her again."

"Listen," said Marco, gently. "This aunt's the one who raised you, right? The one who took you in after your parents died?"

Élodie nodded.

"She won't give up on you that easy. From everything you've told me about her before, I bet she'll find a way to see you. Even if she's stuck in bed for now. 'Sides-" He set a hand on Élodie's shoulder as it began to fall once more. "There's plenty of other Duskwights who live outside the clans, most of 'em decent enough. I bet you'll have them to look to. So this isn't the end, yeah?"

"Y-Yeah."

"And you've got us," Ashley added, then immediately wondered if he was jumping to conclusions. "If you'll have us."

She gave a heaving sniff and wiped at her streaming nose with the back of her hand. "It's good this happened."

"Yeah?" said Marco.

"Yeah. It means I can join you now, really join you, without putting a target on the others' backs. Now that I've no family to speak of, Blackram will have no one to go after. And I... don't have any more excuses to keep my head down."

Marco's eyes darted to meet Ashley's, and the same grave understanding passed between them. Without speaking another word, Élodie curled up beneath the bundle of fabric and laid herself down to sleep. Ashley huddled beside her, weathering her every muffled sob even as he kept his open eyes fixed upon the door - even as she wrapped her arm around his waist, and Marco draped his arm across them both.

#Godhands #Ashley Rosenheim #Élodie Fiel #Marco

9 notes · View notes

gryfon-spanish-werewolf · 3 years ago

Link

Update to Soft Cover: Of A Feather, a story about an ice church at the bottom of the world and some angels, one fallen, one demoted. Request by @snowmanmelting that I am very VERY late on, but hopefully that will all be forgiven after reading xD

Can also be read below

Anna breathes deeply in the freezing, near arctic air of the church around her. The chill settles in her lungs, pooling in swirls before the heat of her body changes her exhale into a foggy cloud. She repeats the action again, focusing on the divine energy in her veins, the radiance of her feathers, and the glow of the halo above her head.

Anything to distract her from how ungodly cold her butt is on this literal ice floor.

Distracted, a chill leaps up Anna’s spine. Goosebumps shiver down her arms and she sighs, opening her eyes. The deep blue of the ice encompasses her, a place of worship carved from the glacier itself. Marvelous and stunning, a true feat of engineering, sculpting, and faith. Remarkable, beautiful.

Cold.

As more shivers rack her celestial body, Anna’s teeth begin to chatter. Repositioning herself a little, Anna attempts to resume her solitary meditation and prayer, but with a glum pout, she recalls instead the warmth of summer air and rustle of leaves in trees full of life and vigor. So different from her current surroundings - where once she enjoyed a place of open space and sunlight against skin, now Anna trembles in the cold and dark, where the sun holds no warmth and blinds instead of caresses.

And it’s all her fault.

But it’s fine. A century or so of consistent devotion and guidance for humanity will put Anna right back where she was, enjoying the breeze under her wings and the sparkles of the stars over the water. Patience is a virtue, she reminds herself as she closes her eyes once more, one that she has in spades. Or she will if she simply asks - being an angel and all, it would be granted immediately. Anna reaches for the tether to her divinity, a golden Light in her mind’s eye, feeling herself settle back to recharging the church with holy presence and serenity.

Until the resounding clack of steel-toed boots echoes throughout the chamber, shattering her focus and winking out the Light like a candle.

Anna scrambles to her feet, heart in her throat. Quickly she checks her glamor (a hand at her head, wrist, and knee) and adjusts the hang of her clothes. Simple white cloth, pinned at her shoulder, cinched at her waist. Her feet are bare as they press against the ice floor. The echoes continue and a shadow moves down the hall where the main room becomes a long hallway leading to the outside. The church is hardly ever closed and people come and go as they please in the days between services, but it is unusual that Anna would not sense them. Unusual also to not hear the heavy wooden doors groan open to admit the visitor.

Regardless, Anna concentrates on making herself presentable. Be they godly, then Anna is prepared; be they human they will find an empty hall for them to do what they need, unaware of the angel in the room, ready to assist.

The shadow proceeds across the wall, closer with every step. Anna tilts her head at a curious sound. Thick boots for crunching through ice and snow are typical this far beneath Earth’s equator, but these shoes don’t sound… right. They are loud for certain, but light, with a rhythmic one-two as opposed to the heavy clump of the whole boot. Perhaps a wanderer, Anna thinks, or a tourist.

But tourists typically gasp and “ooooh” and “aaaah” at the decor, walls, and sacred objects on display.

Not hopscotch back and forth on their toes while muttering curses.

Suddenly, Anna knows who this is. It’s really a shame she didn’t get around to asking for that Patience, because right now, she’s going to need every ounce that God has ever produced.

“Helloooooo!” Comes a cheery, high pitched voice. “Anyone home?”

A woman arrives around the corner. About average in height, slim in build, with pale skin, gleeful blue eyes, and long, unbound white hair. The strange footfall Anna had heard made perfect sense now as the woman steps further into the room, head turning this way and that, as her heels click and rebound in the icy chamber. She is certainly NOT dressed for the weather. No thick coat or furred gloves, no goggles or padded leggings - nothing at all remarkable - in fact she wears a similar outfit to Anna’s except in black. Simple cloth, pinned at her shoulder, cinched at her waist, baring her arms and calves.

No. Not a visitor at all.

A trespasser.

Anna folds her arms and scowls. With a mighty and decisive huff of air, she drags the Light from within her and fills the chamber with holy energy.

The woman notices immediately, yelping in surprise as though she’s been pinched.

“Unnecessary,” the woman grouses, her eyes tightening slightly in pain, “but I knew you’d be here. Hiding as usual.” She scans the room again, eyes roaming past Anna once, then twice, before a grin breaks out on the woman’s face. “Where are you, little angel?”

Anna will not play this game. This woman’s actions and appearance bely her nature, and her presence in this place is not only unwelcome but forbidden. Ire rises in Anna and she pushes it out, raising the temperature in the room and causing the interloper peering between the pews to wince.

Even a demoted angel does not allow a demon to wander into her home so casually.

The woman continues her search, even as the seconds tick by and the energy in the room gives the icy walls an ethereal inner glow. The floor becomes too hot for her tastes and she hops up on a pew, balancing herself, arms out to her sides as she continues wandering around the room, making smaller and smaller concentric circles. She gets closer, despite the angel’s best efforts. With one last shove, Anna manifests her wings, all seven feet of bright white glory nearly burning to the touch, fills the room with crackling energy - and this time the woman does stop. She loses her footing mid-step, dropping to one knee. Sweat beads on her brow and as Anna watches the trespasser struggles briefly to raise her eyes in Anna’s general direction.

“Ah, there you are,” she gasps, grunting as she rises and makes her way forward. Anna’s focus drops for a moment, surprised, and this is all the confirmation the woman needs. In hardly a moment, she is right before Anna, nearly eye to eye, though she looks right through the angel because of her glamor. Invisible. Unbreachable. Unflappable.

“Hello, angel,” the woman says, raising her hand and pressing her pointer finger smartly on the tip of Anna’s nose.

Not un-boopable, apparently.

In an instant Anna’s glamor falls away, the heat and energy she’d gathered flooding into the floors and walls.

“What’s with that face?” The woman smiles with good humored teasing.

Anna shakes her touch off and backs up a step. “How did you know where I was?”

The woman shrugs carelessly, “You were the angriest spot in the room. Pretty easy, all things considered.”

Anna bites her tongue, a boiling explicative at it’s tip. Swearing isn’t particularly Godly, and it would probably just make the woman laugh.

“I thought I would come and check up on you,” the demon continues, “because I haven’t seen you in some time. Not since the penguins had their chicks.” Anna looks down, pretending to find some interesting crack in the ice floor.

So she’d noticed Anna’s presence back then. Watching over a bouldered hill as the demon meandered around the flock like they were her own family and neighbors. Huh…

“Well it’s been nice seeing you,” Anna replies abruptly, “but you’d better leave.”

“So soon?” The woman blinks innocently. “But I just got here.”

“You’re not even allowed in here. Besides, I’m busy,” Anna scowls. She hopes her expression is enough to convince the demon to leave her, and this place, alone. Still waiting on that Patience virtue, and Anna’s personal reserves are already running on empty.

The woman tilts her head, and Anna has to remind herself that any compassion she might see in those eyes is a lie. “Still trying to summon enough power to charge this place? You’ve been trying for, let’s see, a few months now? With how low attendance has been lately, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Church is more than just a place, but one of it’s core requirements is members. People who come and go and frequent, creating a routine, a rhythm, a recognized space. A guardian angel assigned to a church takes over for generating that energy when the members are gone. The ice church had very few visitors to begin with, and tourists didn’t tend to devote time to energizing a place. So Anna often spent her days locked in meditation, channeling her divinity into the ice around her.

A grueling, thankless task.

“Well you should be done by now,” the woman muses aloud, taking stock of the room.

“I would be,” Anna growls, her hands balling into fists, “if someone didn’t keep interrupting me!”

“If you just looked--”

Anna sighs and draws her hand down her face. “Elsa…” Then she flinches. Between her fingers, Anna peeks at the woman in front of her.

Oh, if that was ever a Chesire grin.

“In honor of you using my name, I’ll stop beating around the snow mound,” Elsa beams, her ice blue eyes sparkling with merriment and cheer. She points to the ceiling, other hand cocked confidently on her hip. “See anything new up there, angel?”

Surely this demon has to be pulling her wing, but Anna complies and looks up, expecting the blank, dark surface of the thick oceanic ice.

Not so.

The ceiling is alive with Light, shimmering like the Aurora Australis. The ice seems lit from within by winking stars, the deep blue shot through with purples and greens and golds. The greatest Light of them all gathers in the center of the ceiling above their heads, bright and full. The sign of a fully charged house.

“When did…?” Anna murmurs.

“You always have trouble focusing,” Elsa says, turning Anna’s attention back to her. “Except for when you’re trying to kick me out.” The demon holds up her hands, “Rules are rules, I get it, but I thought, ‘Why not give her a little nudge and see if that helps.’” She looks up at the ceiling again, a soft expression on her face. “Seems like a resounding success.”

Anna doesn’t have an argument, so she stays quiet. Giving Elsa the satisfaction of thinking she played a part in divine dealings may be a mistake, one she doesn’t want to make.

“Now that you’re done,” Elsa turned and beckoned over her shoulder. “How about a break?”

“Angels don’t take breaks,” Anna says haughtily, crossing her arms. “Demons might: Disconnected and all that, aimless. But we have more important things to do.”

Elsa pouts, her lower lip full and pitiful. “Trying to hurt my feelings, angel? Think I’ll try something if you step one foot out of here? You give me too much credit.”

“What would I even do ‘taking a break’? Walk around the ice until the frozen wind takes my wings?” Anna shakes her head. “No thank you. It might not always be warm in here, but it’s way better than out there.”

Elsa regards Anna over her shoulder before turning back. “You don’t like it here, that much is clear. And I know you’re trying to leave.” Anna darts her eyes away. “You hate it down here. Cold and dark, the sun only shining a few months out of the year. You’re lonely--”

“And it’s none of your business!” Anna snaps. This demon was edging dangerously close to a wound that was still fresh, even after all these years, all this time. A memory of warm sunlight dances in Anna’s mind and she wills herself to believe it’s just the wings on her back.

“Don’t lie,” Elsa says gently, “we can both feel it.”

Anna takes a deep breath in through her nose and exhales out her mouth. Steadily, she says, “Get out, demon.”

“Come with me, Anna.”

Her name echoes between them. Anger bubbles in Anna’s chest but dies just as quickly. She’s tired. Wary, but tired of always trying, always watching her best not being enough. But she has to push through, endure.

“I haven’t seen any other angel but you in one hundred years, Anna.” The demon turns her back and begins walking down the hall towards the entrance. “You don’t have to take up my offer, but know that I have no other motive than seeing you achieve your goal. I just want you to be able to enjoy it when that reward finally comes, and not be a burnt out pile of nerves and worry. I’ll be outside.”

Anna watches her go, heels clicking against the ice until they don’t. Silence descends again, absolute.

She should let her go, Anna thinks.

And she continues to think, even as her feet move and fingers trace the walls to check that the energy in the room won’t dissipate when she leaves. Not too much anyway. While the demon’s methods may annoy Anna to no end, she can’t ignore their effectiveness.

The wind howls outside, ripping at the fabric of Anna’s clothing in swift gusts. She slams the heavy door shut and shields her eyes with a hand, looking around for the demon who enticed her out here. Anna’s regret is immediate and grand. She’s stationed in the arctic, or practically anyway. Sunlight a few hours a day when they get it, or all day, never once setting, without the heat to match. Shadows rush in between bursts of snow, obscuring everything more than a few feet away.

“Demon!” Anna shouts, one eye shut as a snowflake flies in, stinging and cold. “Where are you?”

“Right here, angel.” A voice next to her says, appearing at her side almost instantly. “I must say, I knew you’d follow, but not this fast.”

“Tease me any more and you’ll enjoy this beautiful weather alone,” Anna gripes, unconsciously stepping into Elsa’s shadow. If Elsa had any opposition to Anna using her as a living snow shield, she didn’t say so. Even still, what little warmth Anna’s body had stored indoors was quickly being lost, and with the chill biting into her very bones, there was little hope of calling upon her divine power for relief.

In a last ditch effort, Anna’s wings puff up like a bird’s, thick and fluffed, blocking the majority of the wind and snow from hitting her torso. Anna didn’t bother looking at Elsa’s face. She could feel the humor in the very air itself.

“You got me out here de--.... Elsa. What now?”

“I thought perhaps a change of scenery would do you good,” Elsa shouts above the wind, close to Anna’s ear.

Guarded, Anna asks, “Where to?”

Elsa nudges Anna’s shoulder with her own, then walks a few steps out into the weather before facing the church entrance. “I was thinking up there,” Elsa points. Anna frowns, walking out to join her, realizing that Elsa had indicated a spot far above the gables and eaves of the church roof.

“You’re joking.”

“I am not,” Elsa responds flatly. “Have you ever been up there? Perhaps the view won’t be all that much right now, but I promise, it has it’s value, just out of sight.” Anna eyes her skeptically, but she supposed if Elsa did anything odd, she could alway just ask God to smite her. A few extra feet up may actually just make the shot easier.

Satisfied, Anna steps away from Elsa, fanning out her wings in preparation to jump. No more than a story or two, a leap as easy as breathing for someone used to soaring higher than clouds.

A quiet cough stops her short. “I’m happy that you’re eager, angel,” Elsa squints against the snow. It blows around her in circles, almost a bubble, unable to pass too close. A control Anna doesn’t have, or perhaps a tactic she would only resort to without her Light. “But if you want company, you’ll have to stoop low and assist the enemy.”

Behind her back something appears, like watercolor paint bleeding and blooming into shape, spreading out from her clothed shoulders to the ground. Feathers the color of oil, of moonless nights and obsidian shards. They weigh heavy against the demon, dragging beyond her feet, stuck marred and running with clumps of snow.

The chains of course, don’t make them any lighter.

Binding and unbreakable, the unearthly metal presses tightly against every shift the wings make, the occasional clink heard even over the gale. The limbs are lashed close to Elsa’s spine, tight and uncomfortable with no padlock to be seen, no reference to freedom or release, and Anna knows that there never will be.

Once fallen, always Bound.

“Dead weight,” Elsa says with a nonchalance that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. She flexes the muscles in her flightless wings, which rise an inch or two before dropping laboriously. “But their weight is only mine to bear. Carry me up, and I’ll show you what I meant earlier about there being more to this place than meets the eye. Heavenly or otherwise.”

Anna looks between their destination and her companion, then back again. “Alright,” she says at length, “but only this once. And it better be worth it.”

“Excellent!” Elsa drapes an arm suddenly around Anna’s shoulders and grips her tightly before kicking both feet off the ground. On reflex, Anna widens her stance and gets an arm under Elsa’s legs so she doesn’t get pulled down by Elsa’s gravity. She stumbles a bit under the weight of a body in her arms, relief washing through her that she’d managed to catch Elsa before they both fell… until she realizes exactly how Elsa desires to be carried, and dumps the demon unceremoniously to the ice cold ground.

“Ow!” Elsa gripes, rubbing her lower back. “What was that for?”

“No way,” Anna cuts her hands decisively through the air. “Absolutely no way am I carrying you like that.”

“Have a problem with bridal style, angel?” Elsa asks with a raised eyebrow, wiping snow from her black tunic. “Honestly, I thought it was just efficient.”

“Oh,” Anna’s mouth curls mischievously. “If it’s efficiency you’re looking for then how about this?” Without waiting for an answer, Anna hitches Elsa bodily over her shoulder, the demon’s legs kicking wildly in her face. As she grinds her feet into the ice, Anna thinks she hears a shout of protest but it is lost to the whistle of wind during take off.

Perhaps she should have taken heed, because Anna only gets about one floor up before Elsa’s heel smacks against the underside of her chin with force, snapping her head up and making her vision go even whiter than the blizzard outside. They crash into a snowdrift that had accumulated on the side of the church, dense, freezing, and muffled. Well, except for the grunting and digging to get back to the surface.

“What’s your problem!?” Anna bursts out, wiping snow out of her hair.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Elsa spits back, breathing heavily as she hauls herself out onto flat ground. Her shoulders slump with effort, and for the first time, Anna can see how much Elsa’s bound wings affect her. Like she can’t get enough air, or stand to her full height. How their presence smothers her, a weighted blanket with hundred pound plates, constricting her spine and dragging her down, down, down. Chained to the earth, shackled from the sky.

“I think break time is over,” Elsa says, adjusting her clothing back to rights, or as right as they could get for now. “I’ll let you get back to your study and meditation, since that seems to be what you’d prefer.”

“No I--, I’m sorry,” Anna stammers. Elsa seems surprised by her confession, and if Anna’s honest, so is she. “I want to see this view you speak so highly of. It must be… special.”

Elsa accepts her words with a nod. A beat passes before she asks, “So, how are we getting up there?”

“You’ll have to climb.” Anna smiles softly at Elsa’s weary expression. “Don’t worry, I’ll be with you.”

The slope of the snow bank makes the first part fairly simple, and before too long, Elsa is scaling the side of the building as quickly, though carefully, as she can. Every handhold is slick with ice, but Anna melts and evaporates them in quick succession so Elsa doesn’t slip. Certainly slower than flying, but it’s a decent compromise.

And… it gives Anna some time to think.

Why does Elsa care that Anna succeeds? In her tasks, her goals. In leaving this place behind for good. Elsa is a demon, she should be trying to pull Anna further, demotion after demotion until there was nothing less but the permanent boot down to hell. A great achievement that would be, felling an angel. Perhaps Elsa is playing the long game, biding her time, but Anna was stuck in this lonely, frozen landscape anyway, shouldn’t that make Elsa’s job easier? To prey on the mortals that came here, less guarded if their protector angel was distracted?

Anna unfreezes and dries another foothold for Elsa, hovering just behind her in case she falls. Elsa flashes her a grateful smile before concentrating once more. Anna remembers that demons lie, are expert deceivers, and will tell you anything you want to get you to slip, to tempt and to taunt.

But… everything? Even the small things, the inconsequential? The silent ‘thank yous’ for doing a favor?

These thoughts swirl around Anna’s head until Elsa clears her throat, breaking through the fog. She sits atop the roof, safely ascended. “We’re here.”

There is a valley, a cubby really, made between three steeply slanted roofs. Were this the type of geographic location to have a rainy season, this would most certainly be the most uncomfortable place to be - slick with water and grime that washed off the tiles. But with densely packed snow and ice creating a buffer, it’s actually rather quaint. Elsa walks forward, the snow lifting up in glittering heaps of flakes. A space is carved before Anna’s eyes, just big enough for the two of them. “I used to come up here all the time,” Elsa says as the hovering snowflakes settle among the rest of the rooftop piles. “When it was first settled and built. I liked to hear people's voices from below, even if it was faint. The energy of their Light wasn’t small by any means, but it was human, and easier to bear. Of course, with the arrival of a certain someone, I wasn’t quite so cozy anymore, unless I wanted to feel like my clothing was burning off.” Elsa tosses a forgiving look behind her. “Don’t worry, I’d say the price of meeting you was well worth losing a little hang out spot.”

She motions for Anna to sit down. As she does, Anna feels the chill of the air seep into her bones again. Exhaustion has crept up on her; using her power to charge the church, then fly, then help Elsa climb, had been more taxing than she’d realized. She settles in the crux of the roofs, surprisingly snug and comfortable. And on any other day, it might have been.

But the below freezing temperatures send shivers down Anna’s spine and raise gooseflesh on her skin. She grits her teeth and closes her eyes, looking for that tether of Light, that candle of warmth within her. But it’s gone, or so low it hides. Even her wings barely glow anymore, their protection offered only in the fluff of celestial feathers. Cold wraps around her, its erratic touch scattering every attempt at concentrating.

Punishment. For taking pity on the enemy. For failing her duties. For falling from grace. That sunlight in Anna’s memory would stay there, forever.

Suddenly Elsa is beside her, blocking the wind with her body and more. Her wings, damaged and curtailed, stretch over their heads to the extent that they could, chains restricting more than the bare minimum of mobility. They take up the spaces that Anna’s wings cannot fill, a black and white barrier against the storm. Free from the brunt of the gale, warmth seeps back into Anna’s limbs and her breath begins to fog in the air.

“Better, angel?” Elsa asks without looking at her. Her expression is inscrutable, and it's all Anna can do to nod and try looking for her Light once more. The candle catches faintly in her chest, further heating the air around them. She lowers it gently as she hears Elsa’s breath hitch next to her, unwilling to harm the demon anymore.

The world outside shrinks away, the space inside quiet and content. Not perfect, but comfortable enough. “I can see why you’d like it up here,” Anna comments. “Like this it’s almost serene.”

“I thought you’d like it, too,” and Elsa’s tone of voice is knowing, back to light teasing. “Did you really think I’d drag you all the way up here for some scheme? As you could see, it would have hardly been worth the effort on my part.”

“Perhaps,” Anna replies, “but you never know with demons.”

"You never know with demons, but that’s a conversation for another day.” Elsa settles again, their sides touching. “Now I really do think break time is over. You should try meditating up here, perhaps it will be easier.”

Anna laughs. “Trying to find a partner for eternity, are we, Elsa?”

Elsa doesn’t respond to the jest, merely reiterating that Anna should try meditating again.

Anna tries...but she doesn’t succeed. Instead those thoughts from before return to her, about Elsa, about what the demon means to her. About what Elsa wants. What she, Anna,… wants.

To leave, right? Go back to favored, back to freedom and the Earth stretching beneath her wings. To the warmth and the sun.

Actually… now that she thinks about it, she’s pretty warm. The clouds part overhead and the sun’s light filters through their feathers, shining on her skin instead of being blocked by ten layers of ocean ice. She’s warm, and as Anna relishes that feeling she sinks further into her meditative posture until there’s nothing but soft, comfortable darkness.

Elsa feels Anna drift off under her wing. The angel’s breath ruffles the dead feathers, mimicking a flight long forgotten. Anna’s soft exhales flee into the surrounding winds but Elsa hears them in the cocoon on their own making. As Anna succumbs to sleep her head rests on Elsa’s shoulder.

“Even angels need to rest,” she says quietly, tucking Anna more securely against her. Sleep laps at her too, the climb taking more out of her than she’d bargained for. She’d hoped for… well, she wasn’t entirely sure. A conversation. A common moment. A shared space. Elsa supposes she has that last one, just not how she’d expected.

But she learned long ago that the world didn’t always work on expectations.

Before too much longer, Elsa is asleep as well, her head on top of Anna’s, feathers fluttering in the wind. Two detach and dance in a shared current. One black, one white. They disappear amongst the ice.

#ice church au #elsanna #fallen angel!Elsa #angel!Anna #snowmanmelting #my writing #Soft Cover #I'll probably come back and write real tags but I'm at work rn so SHHHHH don't tell my boss #it's fluffy with just a little conflict to keep it interesting #but I'd be lying if I said it was anything other than setting these two up for a nap together #I'm a sucker what can I say

5 notes · View notes

dekuscrybaby · 5 years ago

Note

Bakugou with a reader that is anorexic? Maybe bc she wants to look better in her hero outfit or she wants to be more like the rest of the girls in 1-A? Sorry if it’s a triggering topic!

hi, love!! thank you for requesting this!! i’m sorry it took a bit of time, i had to do a little bit of research so i don’t offend anyone who is dealing with something like this. i’m hoping i did i decent job at this but i’m sorry if it’s inaccurate or offensive, please feel free to educate me if something is wrong or too stereotypical. this is considered a triggering topic so i’ll be sure to add a warning and put the hcs under the cut for the sake of everyone. before you read, i just want to say that if you are dealing with something like this that you’re beautiful!! everyone deserves to feel great in their skin and seeking help does not mean you’re weak or anything, i hope every one of you is well. please stay healthy and my inbox and dms are open if you ever just want to chat or get something off your chest! also remember that society sucks ass and their opinion does not matter, you’re freaking awesome regardless!

TW: eating disorder below the cut!!!

bakugou with a fem s/o who’s anorexic

i’m going to be honest with you and i’m sorry if this sounds blunt but it’s what i hc

bakugou does not care what you look like!!!

you will always and i mean ALWAYS be beautiful to him in his eyes

he might not say it but he genuinely believes you are the most beautiful girl he’s seen and that’s kinda obvious bc he’s with you for a reason and that’s bc you're beautiful inside and out 😌💅

you’re his distraction from hero work 😳 but he really doesn’t mind bc you’re so damn pretty

now actually addressing the request!

bakugou is deadass head empty on hero course work so he might not notice the subtle signs of anorexia

he does notice that you stopped eating lunch with him as much as you used to but you would always use the school work as an excuse

and who is he to deny his girl his education?

so you’re in the clear for a little while until he starts to notice you look a bit sick

your once vibrant eyes now look dead and sunken in

but he just thinks you’re staying up too late for homework

he can only remind you to sleep some more before putting that thought aside

he next notices how your hair begins to fall out in clumps when he tries to run his fingers through your hair

“it’s an allergic reaction to this hair mask i did the other night” he doesn’t quite believe it but he doesn’t want to doubt you so he’ll let it slide again

he starts to become extra suspicious when he finally gets you to eat lunch with him after so long

he notices that you’re adding a bunch of numbers together while you’re pointing at each item in your lunch

his eyebrows are furrowed and he’s questioning why you’re counting until he notices a litter of bruises along your arm as your blazer rides up a little

instantly grips your arm and questions you

“why’re you bruised?”

“huh?”

he glances down at your exposed thighs and notices that your skirt fits a lot looser than he remembers

now that he’s looking at it, your blazer seems to fit loose too, and your shirt

“babe, what’s going on?” his voice is stern but not too angry, he’s dialing it back for you

you rip your arm from his grip, wincing as your skin is a lot more sensitive since you’ve stopped eating

“nothing” you grumble before leaving the cafeteria and going into the bathroom

you can’t help but glance over your reflection, feeling sick at what you see, but that’s not your fault, your mind has been taken over by this disorder

as you’re poking around your tummy and thighs, mumbling about how you feel “disgusting”

the bell rings and you sigh before walking back to class, avoiding bakugou on your way back

the lack of food in your system makes it hard for you to concentrate in class so you’re almost dozing off until you hear everyone move around and suddenly bakugou’s in front of your desk

“are you deaf or something now?”

“hmm?”

“we’re practicing hand-to-hand combat, go get dressed in your gym uniform”

you do as your you’re told, making sure to change in a bathroom stall bc you don’t want to hear any remarks from your friends over how “disgusting” you look

you walk out onto the training field and bakugou’s eyes rake over your figure and this uniform also fits a lot more looser than he remembers

he’s slowly piecing it together but it’s still not completely pieced

he’s still deep in thought trying to figure out what’s going on and that’s when you’re called up for your turn

the moment you begin to exert your body, you pass out

bakugou goes ape shit after this and does not hesitate to take you to the nurse’s office

seeing as you’re lacking nutrients, your instantly hooked onto an iv so you can regain everything you’ve been losing up to this point

bakugou had to plead and beg in order for recovery girl to let him in on what was happening

it took a lot of pleading and begging

once he’s filled in, he feels like a shitty boyfriend for not noticing sooner and he plans to have a few words with you when you wake up

so when you do wake up, you feel a something rough circling on the back of your hand and you freak out a little

you accidentally tug on the iv and it makes you a little uncomfortable until bakugou begins to comfort you, trying to make sure you don’t injure yourself

once you’re calm, he stares at you with this look in his eyes that looks both angry and concerned, but it’s more concerned than anything

“what the hell was going through your mind, dumbass?”

“what are you talking about?” you still don’t want him to know

he sighs, “the old hag told me everything already. please, just let me in, tell me what’s wrong.”

you look away from his intense stare “nothing’s wrong”

“y/n, you passed out during training! and it wasn’t even bc you’ve been overworking yourself, you’ve been starving yourself. what’s going on?”

something about the look in his eyes and tone of his voice brings out the tears

you didn’t mean to worry him, but you did

so you spill

“i’m so sorry.”

“hey, hey, hey. don’t be sorry. just tell me what’s wrong, maybe i can help,” he rubs gentle circles into your wrist

“i just- i hate the way i look. every time i look at myself, i feel so gross. especially in my hero suit and i found myself wanting to be as thin as the other girls. so i thought that if i stopped eating or at least limited my calorie intake, i’d lose all the unwanted weight.”

as you’re telling your story, bakugou’s frowning because he feels like he could’ve done a better job at expressing just how perfect you are in his eyes

“i didn’t think this would lead me into passing out and worrying you, i’m sorry for being stupid.”

“damn right you were being stupid.” he responds with his gruff voice

“huh?”

“i can’t believe you believed that dumb voice in your head.”

“‘suki what are you talking about?”

“i’m saying that you’re actually the most perfect girl in our class and i can’t believe you can’t see that. you definitely did not need to lose weight but if you really wanted to be healthier then there are better methods you could’ve followed instead of just hurting yourself. i think you look absolutely stunning in everything you wear including your hero costume. you’re hands down the hottest student in the hero course, after me of course. you’re the hottest girl in this damn school.”

that second to last line makes you giggle quietly, which he’s so glad to hear

“but seriously, you’re absolutely perfect in my eyes. don’t change yourself because you want to look like everyone else. you really scared the shit out of me, don’t do it again, please. i will literally hype the fuck out of you every morning until you start to see how you perfect you are. i love you okay?”

you could only smile and nod, “i love you too.”

142 notes · View notes

chibisquirt · 4 years ago

Note

You don't have to answer, but if you wouldn't mind. What are some things you've learned about ADHD from Tumblr that are applicable to you, or others you may now? I've been reading more on it and how it manifests in girls/women and was curious when I read your rb on that post about Grammarly

I don’t mind at all! Fair warning: this is gonna be LONG.

I’m going to start by repeating something I mentioned in that post: I was diagnosed in third grade, which was over two decades ago. I had my diagnosis halfway through elementary school, much less high school and two rounds of college. So a lot of the old information about ADHD I learned as a young person, and those things are worth exploring, too.

Example: It’s not that I’m not listening, Mrs. Nock, it’s just that if I try to keep my hands still, then the only thing I will retain from the lesson will be keep your hands still and not the things you trying to teach, which are supposedly important!

(Mrs. Nock was the one who said to me, “I believe you believe you’re paying attention.” Yes, it’s been fifteen years. Yes, I’m still mad. If you can’t have basic respect for your students, don’t teach.)

I figured out half on my own, half because of the counselling that if I had a fidget tool that didn’t require words I would pay better attention than if I tried to sit still. (I still remember being mocked by my dad for fidgeting well after making that discovery, though. Apparently diagnoses should only inform compassion when they’re his.) On the same lines, I also figured out that music in the background wouldn’t work for me if it had words, and television is too distracting for me to use at all. (I have a friend, though, whose ADHD works the opposite way: he has difficulty focusing if there isn’t a television in the background. Yes, both are valid.)

So, the Classics:

I always had trouble with organization and cleaning, had trouble with schedules and calendars and managing my time. Those are the things they’ll warn you about, the things they’ll tell you in counselling are natural and normal things for people with ADHD to have trouble with. Trouble paying attention, sure. Trouble sitting still. Procrastination. Got it.

But if you turn those traits around and re-frame them, they become a new set of symptoms. Adaptations for these new symptoms are more personal and universally applicable in my life, and therefore, to my mind, more useful.

Take Procrastination. (No really: please take it.) That just means “putting it off until tomorrow,” and there are lots of reasons to do it: “don’t have the tool I need” is one of the biggies, “want to conserve steps” trips me up a lot, “I still have time to get to it” is HUGE for me... But a lot of times, these are just superficial reasons. The re-framed symptom is, Trouble making yourself do things you don’t want to do.

ADHD is an executive function disorder. That’s a phrase I first learned on Tumblr, by the way; it may have been mentioned by one of my earlier counsellors, but it definitely wasn’t taught.

This is why soooo many of us have struggled with the perception (including self-perception) that we’re lazy! But no one tells the kid in the wheelchair he’s just lazy for not playing basketball. (Okay, they totally do. People are terrible. Ignore that, stick to the point.) I reframe this the way I do because acknowledging this as a symptom, taking the blame out of it, makes it easier to find adaptation.

Now, this is a personal post. YMMV. But I have an easier time managing my conduct if, instead of calling myself lazy a procrastinator, I say, “I keep not doing that --> oh it’s because I Don’t Wanna --> how can I con myself into doing it?” (Strategies include bargaining, making it easier, powering through but then allowing yourself to stop afterwards, just acknowledging that I Don’t Wanna and allowing that to be valid...) Procrastination is an action, but “executive function disorder” is a disease and “I Don’t Wanna” is its trigger, just as much as an allergy and a clump of ragweed are. “Procrastination” is a powerful sphynx against which I’m helpless, but “I Don’t Wanna Disease” lets me start cultivating my metaphorical catnip and researching the answers to common riddles.

And while we’re talking about procrastination--and trouble with deadlines, and schedules in general--let’s talk about Time Insensitivity. Missed deadlines and perpetual lateness (perpetual) are external actions, just like procrastination, and they can have all sorts of explanations.

(Shoutout to Mrs. Pollack, who looked around a classroom containing thirteen-year-old me, and, knowing full well that I was chronically tardy, declared that “anybody who’s always running late, deep down, they just doesn’t care about anybody else’s time.” Great job with calling the thirteen-year-old a heartless bitch, Mrs. Pollack! As you can tell, I definitely forgot it very quickly, and didn’t at all have a self-critical breakdown about it, periodically revisiting the question of my own inherent selfishness for years!!!)

But ignoring the external actions, let’s take a compassionate look inside the head again. Executive function includes regulation of, and awareness of the passing of, time. Again: you can’t play the basketball with no legs. We literally do not realize what time is doing. Sometimes we do--if we devote enough of our attention to it, which may be a large amount for some, a small amount for others, or a variable amount for the same person. But our brains literally don’t process it the same way.

But hold on a minute--let’s go back to that analogy. Because actually, people with no legs can play basketball! It’s just that you have to use the adaptation of wheelchairs to do it--and that’s an adaptation for the game and for the players.

I use alarms. I’ve recently seen a post about audio memos as alarms. There are people who just slap clocks everywhere. When I was forced to work in a kitchen with no clocks, I used the multi-setting timer and set it for like four hours so I would know if I was keeping on schedule. I also chose a job environment where much of my shift is the same as itself, and rigid punctuality isn’t enforced--that’s adapting my environment, instead of myself. There’s all kinds of adaptations. But you have to know you have the condition before you can compensate for it.

Here’s a fun little story: when I was... oh, eleven? Twelve? My Quaker Meeting’s youth group (#7 whitest phrase I’ve ever written) went to the museum together. One of the stops was in the children’s section, there was a... a pegboard, I think? With some kind of problem on it. A puzzle. Me and a couple others sat down at it, and it took me a while, but eventually I solved it, and I looked up.

I blinked. “Where is everybody?” I said.

“They left,” said my mom. “Half an hour ago.”

I was stunned. “Half an hour ago?! But I couldn’t’ve spent more than ten minutes on this!”

“I promise you, it was half an hour.”

“Why didn’t you call me?? Why didn’t you say my name?”

“We did. Several times.”

To this day, I will swear myself blind that I never heard a thing.

Hyperfocusing. They’ll tell you about the problems focusing; oh yes. They’ll tell you allll about that one. But they won’t tell you about the flip side of it. They won’t tell you about the times when the rest of the world falls away, and the only two things in the world are you and whatever problem you’re trying to solve.

D’y’know what, I bet that’s the reason I test well. I just realized this now, phrasing it like that, but--I’ve always tested well, even when my actual practical applications of things are mediocre I do well with the classroom testing on it. I scored a 39 on the MCAT, back when it was out of 45 and not whatever it is now. (To those with the plain good sense not to want to be doctors: that’s pretty good.) And I just bet it’s because, once I get focused on solving the problems, the other problems--nerves, intrusive thoughts, anxiety--just don’t have room to get in. Hyperfocusing can be a superpower, if you can harness it.

But it can also blind you to everything else. And it works in smaller ways, too: once I think I understand something, it is very difficult for me to perceive information that contradicts that understanding. I still get the map of the Elflands backwards every time I read The Goblin Emperor, just because I pictured it one way, and every indication in the text that it was the other way just fell on deaf ears.

And this one leads right into the next, which is Rejection Sensitivity Disorder. RSD is hyperfocus, but it’s hyperfocus on how everyone must hate you. It’s delightful! I’ve been diagnosed with anxiety and depression, as well, and I do have both of those things, but for my money, I think that this one symptom of ADHD--which no doctor has ever even mentioned to me--has hurt me more than both of those conditions combined.

The last one I’m going to bring up is Auditory Processing Disorder. Now, I’ve gone and gotten re-diagnosed twice in my life, and the last time was just a few years ago, so they actually used this one in the test. The psychologist told me about it, she just didn’t use the phrase Auditory Processing Disorder, and she didn’t tell me that it was its own symptom--she just used it for the test.

What she did was, she gave me two hearing tests, one to test whether or not I could hear, and then the other a list of words that all sounded alike, and I had to mark which one I was hearing. The second part of that was very long, and very boring, and despite scoring perfectly on the first test, I got several wrong on the second. I was actually surprised by that; I at no point suspected I had heard any of them wrong. When she gave me the test, told me this was proof by contradiction, that we were ruling out hearing loss as an alternative explanation for my difficulties. It was only after the test was done that she explained that the pattern I showed was actually part of the diagnosis of ADHD; that we get bored, and stop really paying attention, and that we don’t even know we’re doing it.

...Okay, but you couldn’t have mentioned the part where I also do that every day in real life, lady?!?! It’s not just when we’re bored, it’s not just for long processes. I do this all the time. I actually tell people now that “I actually have a neurological condition that makes it hard for me to hear; I can tell that you’re speaking, but I can’t tell what you’re saying.”

This is 100% true. It is a neurological condition.

We label this a condition, but as a society, we don’t treat it that way. Society treats it as yet another excuse. It’s not. You’re not lazy, stupid or crazy. Neither am I.

I have a condition. Acknowledging that is the first step of treatment. Not five thousand sticky notes, not binders or filing systems or even taking all the doors off the cupboards (although I definitely plan to do that one as soon as I possibly can). Not counselling sessions with so many different people I can’t even name them all, for the love of god please understand that you can’t just fix it with pills.

(Although mad props to the people who thought Concerta would magically solve me at the age of nine! Spoiler alert: it did not do that! But it did mean that my parents felt comfortable blaming me for all my failures again, so it did at least some of what it was designed for, I guess. :) )

I have spent the last few years re-understanding my ADHD it as is: a neurological condition, a disability, and a simple fact of life. A starting place, instead of yet more proof of my own inherent insufficiency. And you know what? When you take the blame and self-hatred out of the diagnosis--when you stop cursing it as the cause of all your problems and start trying to work with it, instead--it gets a lot easier to manage.

#laexploradoraaa

25 notes · View notes