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dandy-writes · 4 years ago

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Eyewishes - Ch. 2

AN: Did I just sit down and write all of this in like two hours on a whim after over a month of inactivity? Yes. Is it good? God, I hope so. Anyways. Obligatory spoiler warning! This fic takes place in season 2, but contains spoilers for certain things up through the end of season 4. Also, in this chapter I describe scars and thus, the implied wounds that caused them. So warning for that. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

Chapter One

Someone had blinded them in their left eye.

Well, perhaps something might have been a better term given the situation, but Y/N truly didn’t know. It was incredibly disconcerting. They had no idea who or what had blinded them, nor any knowledge of anything about themselves from before they reached the doorstep of the Magnus Institute. It was obvious they were suffering from amnesia, and without much effort they Knew that if they were to go to a hospital their affliction would be diagnosed as retrograde amnesia specifically, as opposed to anterograde amnesia, the difference being… well, they could go on and on with textbook definitions and possible causes. But no matter how hard they tried, they could not See into their own past.

The handiwork was at the very least neat, so perhaps there was a clue there. On several occasions Y/N had found themself losing track of time and spending hours staring at themselves in the water-stained mirror of the Archives’ seldom-used bathroom, analyzing every detail of their wounded eye. Two lines of scar tissue ran over their brow and eyelid down to their cheek, perpendicular to each other in a way that formed an “X” over their eye. Was it intentional? By the way their gut churned when they asked themself that, Y/N suspected it might have been.

And though the damage done to their eye was horrific enough, Y/N wasn’t convinced that it alone was what was causing their stagnation. They could probably write it all off to that, but something that pulled at the back of their mind told them that there was more. That something else had happened to them, but they just couldn’t remember. Couldn’t See. There was, of course, the situation of their stomach, but… Well. That was a bit more difficult to address. Besides, they’d only learned of that when they’d first had the opportunity to change clothes over a day after they’d arrived at the Institute. Martin had been kind enough to locate and bring to them some clothing in roughly their size, but they’d decided quickly to keep the flannel. It was cold down in the Archives, and maybe it was just their imagination, but it seemed like when they wore it the barbed wire surrounding their memories retreated just a little bit.

The others weren’t as friendly. Tim and Jon were suspicious -- rightly so, if a bit misguided -- and only allowed them to stay in the Archives after quite a bit of persuasion from Martin. And luckily for Y/N, the thing seemed just as content to avoid them as they were it. Then, there was Elias.

Elias didn’t visit the Archives too often, but that didn’t matter, because he was always Watching, even if the others didn’t realize. He couldn’t See through Y/N’s eyes, though, something that had become apparent quite early on in their stay at the Institute. All the more reason to isolate themself from the others. They might have both been on the same “side”, but his demeanor towards them made it quite clear that this meant nothing to him.

That being said, it wasn’t that much of a surprise when Y/N felt the staticky presence moving down the hallway towards the bathroom door. They had been staring again (for approximately 42 minutes and 37 seconds), and again, no answers were coming. They gripped the edges of the sink and did their best not to look away from their reflection as the door opened.

Elias was immaculately dressed, as usual, in a dark green three-piece suit that was utterly out of place in the drab surroundings. His gray-streaked hair was pristine, and he had a pair of thin-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, through which he was watching Y/N intently.

“Ah, Y/N. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” It was a blatant lie, and they both knew it, one of many that the two had passed between themselves since Y/N’s arrival. “Hiding from the archival staff? I suppose I can understand that. They can certainly be a little…” He turned on his heel so that he was fully facing the mirror, a slight smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Unsettling at times.”

He chuckled (it wasn’t a genuine laugh, of course. Y/N doubted if they’d had any sort of genuine interaction since he’d threatened them) and began to approach them. His steps were slow, drawn out, giving them apt time to meet his gaze in the mirror, but they didn’t. He’d only enjoy it if they were to watch him as he was watching them. Like a curious predator.

He stopped mere inches from them, and Y/N was almost relieved until he leant forwards. The moment his chest hit their back they stiffened fully, only just able to stop their neutral expression from faltering as Elias dipped his head down to the right of theirs, not quite touching, but still far too close for comfort. Carefully, he brought his hands to rest on the edge of the sink next to their own. He had not stopped trying to make eye contact with them.

“I just want to talk, Y/N. I’m sure you must have questions you’d like to ask me.”

His gaze narrowed slightly. “No, probably not. But why don’t you try me?”

They had to close their eyes to stop themselves from looking up at him at that. Did he want them to try and Compel him? Even if they were at their strongest, they didn’t think he’d let them do so successfully. No, he was probably just gloating. They reopened their eyes, but did not look away from their own reflection. <Why don’t they know?>

“You’re going to have to be a little bit more specific than that, I’m afraid.”

Their brow furrowed. <The Archivist, and the others. Why don’t they know they’re under the Eye? Or that there’s a Stranger posing as their friend? Why haven’t you told them, when-->

Elias cut them off with a tsk, tilting his head as he did so. “Really, Y/N, don’t you have more important things to worry about?” They watched their eyes widen as he placed his left hand on their cheek, fingers just grazing their scars. His touch was cold. “Poor thing… I can’t imagine what--”

<Stop it.> They felt frozen in place as they watched his fingertips trace over their skin.

“Ah, right. All you can do is try and imagine what happened to you. Or am I mistaken? Please, tell me exactly just what it is you can remember, Y/N. Or is it really nothing at all? So much lost knowledge, it must be taking a toll on--”

<Stop it.> In a burst of movement Y/N spun around to face him, their gaze finally meeting his. They nearly gasped at the force of it, and a wave of shivers wracked their body as the raw feeling of being Watched invaded their senses. Their reaction was obvious, and Elias’ small smile immediately broke out into a pleased, toothy grin.

The trouble was, it felt very, very nice to be Seen by another avatar of the Eye. Of course, there was no way Elias could Know that Y/N felt that way, but if he’d had much experience with other avatars of their god, which was likely, then it wouldn’t take too far of a leap to come to that conclusion.

It didn’t help that with his hands firmly planted on the sink edge, Y/N was practically caged-in between it and his body.

“Oh, Y/N, it really is a shame…” He’d lowered his voice to a purr as he brought his hand up to cup their cheek once more. “Because judging off of what’s left, you truly must have had beautiful eyes.”

That was it. With as much force as they could muster they pressed their palms against the lapels of his suit and shoved him away from them. He must’ve decided he’d had enough fun for one day, as he let Y/N push him off with far more ease than they’d expected, and did not move to stop them as they stormed out of the bathroom and slammed the door behind them. Every nerve in their body felt hypersensitive as they focused on getting as far away from Elias Bouchard as they could while staying within the boundaries of the Archives. They didn’t think he was going to follow them, but they couldn’t be sure after the way he’d been Looking at them just moments before. Y/N wasn’t used to him being so direct -- the statements he’d made in regards to their lack of memory had surprised them, but it just meant he was better at piecing things together without the aid of Seeing into one’s mind than they’d hoped -- nor to being confronted with so much power from another avatar. Though, worryingly, they didn’t think that he had exactly been using full force in there.

He was just toying with them, that was all. They had expected him to start doing so at some point, so that in and of itself wasn’t a surprise.

They just didn’t account for how good it would make them feel.

Taglist: @decora-peaches

#fanfic #fanfiction #elias bouchard #elias bouchard x reader #jonah magnus #jonah magnus x reader #the magnus archives #tma #tma fanfic #the magnus archives fanfic #x reader #reader insert #nonbinary reader #gender neutral reader #fiction #creative writing #marzipan writes #slow burn

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dandy-writes · 4 years ago

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Eyewishes - Ch. 1

AN: Spoiler warning! This fic takes place (or at least starts) in season 2, but it has spoilers about certain things up to, like, I want to say the end of season 4? So be wary. Also, this is my first time writing for the Magnus Archives, so I’m hoping I got character voices and general behavior fairly on the nose, but I'm not sure. Lastly, I have not finished season 5, so please don't spoil any of that for me. Thank you, and I hope y’all enjoy this!!

(And yes, this is an. Elias Bouchard x reader fic. I. Yeah ❤️)

It was so, so cold, and they couldn’t See.

They were on the ground. They knew that, at least -- the wet pavement was rough against their bare hands and knees, scraping against their skin as rain pounded down on them from a dark, swirling sky. Out of breath and dizzy with lack of oxygen, they leant against the side of the building and tried to recover. Their head was pounding. They tried to open their eyes, but it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it

“Hello?”

Who was that? He sounded close, but the fuzz filling their mind put a distance between them that they could not yet bridge.

“Hello? Oh my god, are you alright? Are you--”

Hands grabbed their shoulders gently, trying to turn them slightly. They could only whimper in response and draw back further into themselves. The grip loosened for a moment in uncertainty before they felt a presence come closer.

“Alright, I’m going to -- we’re going to get you inside, okay? Can you -- can you stand?” Arms moved around their torso tentatively, and they leant forwards instinctively when they felt the warmth emanating from his body. “Good, okay, and could you--?” It took some effort, but with the stranger’s help they were able to get to their feet. As he placed one of his hands in theirs, a jolt of discernment ran through their body.

Martin Blackwood.

They breathed out shakily and let him take on a bit more of their weight. He kept saying things to them as the two walked through the doors of the Magnus Institute, but it was hard to pay attention as a sense of relief washed over them. Yes, the Magnus Institute. They were safe here. They could already feel their mind clearing with each second spent within its walls. The course Martin had set for them led to a well-worn couch, and they sunk into it gratefully, pulling their knees up and hugging themself close.

“Okay, I’ll… I’ll see if I can get you a blanket or something, and -- some tea? Would you like some tea?” Martin was standing in front of them, leaning down and talking in a concerned tone. They didn’t need to See to sense his nervousness. “Or coffee, I guess, or hot chocolate, maybe? I think we have some, but…” They nodded in response, but kept their eyes closed. “Alright, I’ll go make some. You, ah… stay here, then. I’ll be right back.”

And they were alone again.

But, they weren’t really alone. Since they’d walked through that doorway, a gaze more comfortable than the warmth, or the coming drink, or Martin’s gentleness, had settled over them. Someone here was Watching them, or maybe it was the place itself. Maybe both. It didn’t really matter.

They took a deep breath, and opened their eyes, but… They swallowed thickly. Something was very, very wrong. They could still see, and still See, as well, but they felt cut off, somehow. Like a muzzled dog, or a caged bird with barely any space at all to flap its wings, let alone take flight. It was so uncomfortable that they nearly missed the voices coming closer.

“And, what, you just brought them inside?”

“Well, I wasn’t about to leave them out there in the rain, they would’ve frozen to death! Besides, they don’t seem dangerous. I mean, they could barely walk, it’s not like--”

“Right, and no horrible monsters could ever possibly learn how to act.”

“Tim--”

“Look, all I’m saying is that, I mean… You really don’t think it’s even a little suspicious that it’s on this night, with the power going on and off from the storm and the cell service acting up, that some mysterious person in a -- what, you said a hospital gown and an old flannel?”

“Yes, but--”

“In a hospital gown, which you have to admit, is already fairly creepy, just shows up on the doorstep all weak and helpless?”

Martin didn’t seem to have an answer for that, and in a moment the two had rounded the corner and come back into the room. It was the break room, they realized, and immediately after that the man who’d joined Martin was named Timothy Stoker. They sniffled and met his stare. Martin stood by the door, and he shot them an apologetic glance before his eyebrows rose in surprise.

“Oh! Your eye, are you…”

They looked at him for a moment. Their eye? What did he--

“We shouldn’t tell Jon.”

“What? I -- why not?”

“I mean, he’s already paranoid enough as it is. We can deal with this ourselves, no need to get him all worked up.”

“Get who all worked up?”

Martin shuffled awkwardly to the side as two more… things entered. The first was human enough, if a bit touched by something they couldn’t quite place, but the other one. They could feel bile rising in their throat as it walked into the room. What the hell was it doing here?

“Jon, Sasha! Well, uh…” Martin stumbled over his words as his gaze flickered between them and his co-workers.

“Martin, who’s this?” Jon -- Jonathan Sims, they suddenly Knew -- did not stop watching them as he spoke.

“Are they okay? They’re soaking wet. Are you--” They recoiled the moment the thing began moving towards them, holding out a hand so invitingly, so innocently.

<Don’t touch me,> they yelled without moving their lips. The thing paused, frozen in place for only a moment before it regained its composure and plastered a look of concern over it’s non-face.

“Poor thing,” It gave them a sympathetic look, and it took all their willpower not to gag. The others were still talking amongst themselves, unaware of the altercation. Unaware that it was not whatever it said it was. How could that be? This was a place of Knowing, of Seeing, so how could these people not know? Martin had gone, presumably to finish up their hot chocolate, and now Tim and Jon were talking heatedly, the thing chiming in quietly every once in a while. They were so tired, and nothing made sense. Why didn’t these people understand? More troublesomely, why didn’t they understand? They were supposed to understand, that at least they knew. But they didn’t, and--

Static.

“Is something the matter?”

The newcomer’s gaze fell heavily on them. He was older than the others. He was wearing a three-piece suit, his hair was neatly-trimmed and slicked back, his eyes were a piercing green, and his name was Elias Bouchard. Or, that’s what he put at the forefront of his mind, at least. It was impossible to See past his well-put-together front. But from what they could See, he was strong. Very strong. And trying very hard to See past their own. A shudder ran through their body.

“Elias. No, nothing’s the matter, we were just--”

“Helping some poor lost soul?” He smiled lightly at Jon. “Did they come to make a statement?” He turned to more fully face them, eyes tracing over their body. “...Straight from the hospital?”

“I found them outside the Institute.” Martin had returned, holding a mug of steaming liquid in his hands. He gave the others an accusatory look and walked over to the couch. “They were freezing from the rain and clearly in need of help. Here,” He softened his voice as he handed them the hot cocoa. They took it, the heat spreading into their cold hands as they looked up at him.

“You’re welcome,” He returned their smile and straightened back up. “Now, I don’t know what you all think is going on here, but--”

“Wait,” Tim frowned at Martin. “What did you just say?”

“That -- well, that whatever you all think--”

“No, no, before that.”

“I…” Martin furrowed his brow. “I said ‘you’re welcome’?”

“Why’d you say that?”

He scoffed. “They thanked me for the cocoa, so I said ‘you’re welcome’, it’s not--”

“I didn’t hear that.”

For a few moments, no one spoke, glancing at one another in confusion, before Martin responded. “Well, I mean, I suppose they did say it a bit quietly, it’s not like…”

“I was watching them,” Jon murmured. “Their lips didn’t move.”

Slowly, everyone turned to look at them. They shifted slightly and took a sip of the hot chocolate, allowing themself to close their eyes as they did so. A momentary reprieve. When they reopened them, Jon had taken a step closer to them.

“Who are you?”

They blinked. Oh. Oh. They didn’t -- but, no. They were… They bit the inside of their cheek and shrugged, staring into their mug.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tim scowled. “That you don’t know who you are? Yeah, right. And there’s nothing weird going on here at all.”

“Well, let’s see,” Elias said, walking towards them. They froze in place as he loomed over them, taking their right arm in his hands. “If they were in a hospital, they’ll have an identification bracelet.” Not all too delicately he pushed their sleeve up and leaned down to read the paper bracelet hanging off their wrist. “Here we are; Y/N L/N.” He glanced up, meeting their gaze with a cocked brow. “Ring any bells?”

Hesitantly, they shook their head. This still didn’t make any sense. In the background, the others had burst into conversation again, but they couldn’t focus on it with the way Elias was Watching them. They swallowed. <They don’t know.>

He chuckled quietly and gripped their wrist a little tighter. <And if you have any sense of self-preservation, they’re not going to.>

Every hair on the back of Y/N’s neck stood on end as his words filled their mind. Casually, as if he’d just exchanged pleasantries with them and not threatened their life, the man calling himself Elias Bouchard let go of their arm and retreated slightly. But his eyes never left theirs.

“Do you really want a repeat of Jane Prentiss? Of the worms, or whatever the hell they’ve brought with them?” Tim was almost yelling now, brushing off Martin’s attempts to calm him down. “There is no way in hell I’m letting them stay here. If you’re so keen on helping them you can, I don’t know, drive them back to whatever hospital they came from, but they need to leave.”

<No.>

It took more effort than Y/N liked to make them all hear, but it worked, and they turned to Y/N in unease. Without realizing, they’d dug their free hand into their flannel and clutched it hard, knuckles whitened at the strain. They let out a heavy breath and set their jaw. <I’m not leaving.>

Tim laughed, but there was an edge of fear to it that he couldn’t quite hide. “You don’t have a say in this.”

Y/N pushed themself up, causing everyone but Elias to shuffle backwards. He hadn’t stopped Watching them. They knew he was searching for cracks in their walls, but they couldn’t let that bother them. Not now. <I’m staying.>

“Look, you’re clearly outnumbered. If you really think you can--”

<You don’t know anything about me, or what I’m capable of.> Their gaze cut into Tim as they took another step forward. They could feel exhaustion overtaking them with every word they projected. They needed to secure their safety here, now. Sighing, they took another drink of the hot chocolate, though it’s heat had faded to a dull luke-warm by that point. <I won’t bother you.>

Y/N glanced back at Elias. His expression had not changed from one of clandestine annoyance. They turned to Martin.

Turning on their heels, they left the break room and headed for where they Knew the door leading down to the archives would be. But even though a wall now separated them, they could still feel what felt like a hundred eyes all burning into the back of their skull.

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