The Only Thing That is Real (teaser)
Modern! Aegon x Reader
TW: Healthcare, disability, rude Aegon (will add more later)
Inspired by Me Before You
✍️ (My other writings) ✍️
You are a nurse who has found herself recently fired from her job at the nation's best hospital; your dream of a promotion ruined when they handed you your dismissal papers.
Now you are on the hunt for another job, but in your small town, nothing is available.
Until you find an interesting advertisement searching for an experienced carer to look after a 29-year-old, wheelchair-bound man.
With nothing to lose, you apply and before you know it, you're accepted for the role. But the man in question is not what you expected; he is rude, dismissive, and frankly despises your existence.
Determined to stick it out for your financial sake (it's a rich family), you become just as stubborn as him. In a fight of wills, you both soon learn there is more to work, life, and your relationship than what fate has given to you.
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We’ll draw the curtains (and never leave home)
Word Count: 20.3k words (1/1 Chapters)
Relationship: Alhaitham/Kaveh
Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, based on “Me Before You”, angst, hurt/comfort, there’s some fluff here and there, bittersweet ending, please read the tags before proceeding
As a gift for @neonnyagic 💜
Summary:
Kaveh meets Al-Haitham again in Lambad’s Tavern—homeless, moraless, jobless with a dendro vision cinched to his waist to prove it.
For lack of better words, Al-Haitham is shorter than he remembers.
“Archons,” he breathes, looking him up and down. “What happened to you?”
“I should be asking you that question,” Al-Haitham says, dry.
“No. No, you really shouldn’t,” Kaveh says, shaking his head.
Al-Haitham snorts.
(Al-Haitham gives Kaveh an ultimatum he is desperate to change.)
Read it here!
Author’s Comments:
This fic was both a mental drain and a very fun thought experiment. At the same time.
Even though we’re in Kaveh’s POV, I did so much thinking about Alhaitham’s feelings and Alhaitham’s emotions and Alhaitham’s state of being and ALHAITHAM that I could probably write out a fic in his POV. It was that intense.
I have a Spotify playlist for this song that I was just looping on repeat and most of the songs are the soft sort of love. This story, I’d like to think, has the soft sort of love too (even if there’s a bit of pain with it 💜)
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I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt
“Woah. You look like shit."
Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.
The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.
"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."
And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.
The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.
If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.
"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.
"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.
"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.
The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.
He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."
There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.
"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."
Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"
"Daniel? Is that you?"
His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.
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