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writersblog20 · 2 years

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Bad day

Chris Evans x reader

Summary: After a really bad day as your depression worsened, Chris tries to make sure to make you feel safe, loved and secure again.

Warnings: Depression, anxiety, hints of feeling suicidal (if you look really good), ddlg dynamic, reader calls Chris daddy sometimes, hints of trauma and abuse, hints of separation anxiety if you squint as well.

Words: 3,7K

A/N: Hiya, Ya girl is back! I’m sorry for not posting a lot. I’m really busy with the festival and therapy and stuff. This was in one of my drafts and wanted to finish it for when I feel bad again. Please do read the warnings and be respectful. If this isn’t your cup of tea, than don’t read it.

This is very personal for me so just keep it in mind that I wrote this off of my experience and it’s merely for myself but it’s a win if anyone else find some comfort in this as well.

Bad day

It was a bad day. Your depression has been very high today and it felt unbearable right now but you were too tired and exhausted that the only thing you could do was sit and stare in front of you. Even going to bed seemed like you had to climb the mount Everest, it was just insane. You didn’t know how long you had been sitting there and staring in front of you, fighting the demons in your head. You’ve felt extremely down for no apparent reason but it was just all too much. Yes you’ve been under a lot of stress lately and it wasn’t helping your depression so you just had to sit this through, there was no other choice really.

You looked at the clock and apparently you’ve been sitting there and staring in front of you for at least 2 hours now. You sighed and stood up, your body felt heavy. Extremely, physical heavy. You shuffled upstairs and sat down on your shared bed with Chris. You stared at the closet. There was an emptiness, sadness and a heavy feeling consuming you all at the same time.

You laid down and crawled underneath the covers and put your earbuds in and put some soft songs on. You couldn’t find the energy to do anything. Even the simplest tasks seemed way too big right now. You felt the tears gathering and let them fall. Chris was at work but worried about you. You hadn’t responded to any of his texts and he could tell you were slipping away. It was pretty obvious even though you tried to hide it behind your smile, he knew it wasn’t genuine. He knew you were fighting it but today was a bad day. You always texted him but not today. He just didn’t know how bad it really was.

Your cat wouldn’t leave your side for his life. Cheeto was your support cat apparently. Not that you trained your cat or something but he was extremely adapted to you. Nobody could pick him up except you and he wouldn’t go to anyone else for cuddles. Always to you. That’s also a bit how Chris knew. Your cat wouldn’t leave your side. Where you went, he went. And when you would sit down or lay down, he would cuddle up to you.

It happened more when you felt down so this day wasn’t any different and Cheeto jumped up on the bed and crawled under the covers and laid down in your arms and nuzzled his head against yours. That was the moment you broke down even more. You started sobbing and held onto your cat and he let you, purring you in order to calm you down but it broke your walls.

After crying for at least 30 minutes you fell asleep with a thumping headache. You were absolutely exhausted to say the least. Cheeto turned towards you and rested his head in the crook of your neck and kept purring which did calm you down after a while so he kept doing it.

Chris came home and had no idea what to expect when he would come home. The lights were off in the house and he thought you might be in bed. He put the bags in the kitchen. Before he came home he got all of your favorite snacks and a plushy. He knew that you loved plushies.

He put everything away before walking upstairs with the plushy underneath his arm, tucked against his side. He knew you would shut yourself out from the world when you felt really bad.

He saw you hidden underneath the covers and heard purring from underneath it. He felt his heart slowly tearing apart. He strutted towards you and sat down on the edge of the bed and got the cover slightly off of you so he could at least see your face. He saw that you’ve been crying with the evidence still on your cheeks. He crouched his brows together in a painful look. He saw Cheeto laying in the crook of your neck, who opened his eyes at the movement which wasn’t coming from you. He looked at Chris and started his purring again. “Hi buddy, seems like you’ve had a busy day huh?” he softly whispered to your cat and scratched his head softly. Cheeto let his head rest again, this time against your cheek, making Chris smile lovingly at the both of you.

You seemed more peaceful and he just couldn’t help himself but take a picture at the sight in front of him, it was just too cute. He put his phone away and went with the back of his fingers softly over your cheek but it didn’t wake you yet. He thought about it and decided to let you nap a little longer so he could make a nice warm meal for you cause he was sure that you haven’t been eating great. It came with the depression really. He made some pasta and 15 minutes before dinner was done, he walked back upstairs only to find the both of you in the exact same place.

He smiled sadly but lovingly at you again and walked over towards you sitting on the same spot as before and brushed some hair out of the way, making you stir a little and opened your eyes, slightly confused. “Hey sweetheart. How you feelin?” he asked you softly with his thick Boston accent. He smiled lovingly at you and you felt Cheeto laying half on top of you before you remembered what happened and the heavy feeling came back.

You looked at Chris and decided to open up right now since you felt tears gathering again. Chris noticed and stood up, walking to the other side of the bed and laid down on top of the covers. He laid down on his side towards you, his hand caressing the side of your face and his thumb softly rubbing your cheek. “I’ve been feeling very down lately and I don’t know why. I just do.” You told him, clearly emotional and the tears fell onto your cheek which Chris wiped away with his thumb.

You sniffled “My depression is just getting really bad.” You told him and he nodded, listening intently at you. “I just want it all to stop and hide away from everything and everyone and all the feelings. I just want it to stop Chris.” You started to talk very fast, clearly anxious. Chris softly shushed you and moved more towards you. “I know baby. I know. We’ll get through this together.” He told you softly. “We’ve been here before remember? And we got out of that one as well, remember? That doesn’t mean that it’s easier, I just mean that you we know how this goes and that you are not alone and you don’t have to do it alone. Let me help you carry some of the weight sweetheart.” You teared up at the comforting and loving words of Chris, but honestly, everything could make you tear up right now.

You were healing your inner child with your therapist and suggested some things which you talked about with Chris and he recognized some things that sounded very familiar to being a little. It didn’t surprise him to say the least but knew you were a different from being a little. You absolutely refused the idea of diapers, pacies etc etc. You did call Chris sometimes daddy (not really that you’re therapist talked to you about but it helped you.) you loved, but like loved stuffed animals, disney movies and. you needed someone very, very gentle and just someone who would take care of you if you weren’t able to handle things anymore. Like anyone else really.

Chris smiled sympathetically at you. You crawled more against him and hid your face against his chest while he softly went over your head and placing kisses on your forehead. “Why don’t we do what your therapist suggested hmh? It might help and if you don’t want to or want to stop you tell me.” he told you carefully.

Chris found it so incredibly adorable that he almost couldn’t function. As if he couldn’t love you more, you would prove him wrong every time. and when you told Chris about it, he helped you out of your comfort zone, so that could become your comfort zone and he was amazing in it. Chris would always suggest something to try with obviously your consent but with things that he thought might help and so far, they really did.

You looked up at Chris, a little unsure since you felt so horrible. You didn’t want to bring that energy into your safe bubble. Chris saw it and his face got even softer than before if that was even possible. He knew weeks ago that this was going to happen, he was just waiting for you to let him into your bubble. His hand softly cupped your cheek and he went with his thumb softly over your chin. “I know it’s scary baby, but daddy’s here. I’m here and I won’t let anything happen to you.” he tried to take that step. “Let daddy take care of you know, can you do that for me pretty girl?” he asked you softly and he saw some relief over your face as you nodded.

The moment he saw relief over your face he asked you. “Was this what you wanted baby girl?” You nodded slightly again and Chris knew you well enough now to also know why you didn’t ask him. “You needed me to take the first step didn’t you princess?” once again you nodded while you softly played with the strings of his hoodie until he put his finger underneath your chin. “Sweetheart, I know it’s still a little scary for you but you have nothing to be ashamed off and definitely not with me. You can always ask daddy.” You crawled more against him and he chuckled softly as you sought out his warmth.

“Come on pretty baby, dinner is ready.” You stopped dead in your tracks. You weren’t hungry, the opposite actually. You felt nauseas of the idea right now. You always complied even as a ‘little’ it was because of trauma so you didn’t really have any tantrums, needed a lot but like a lot of recognition, praise and you never misbehaved, scared that something bad might happen as a result. You were the most compliant when you would go into that zone.

Chris loved you so much as a ‘little’ but whished that you could completely let go but this was also a part of you so he didn’t mind it one bit but that meant that he had to keep a close eye on you, like now. You wouldn’t refuse it, scared he might get mad so he had to keep an close eye on your body language to know what you liked or not in this state. He did help you more and more to tell him things that you didn’t like.

Like right now. “Daddy….. I’m not really hungry….” Your voice ever so soft right now as you ducked away from him a little. A pang was felt in his heart when you ducked away after you told him something that you didn’t like. He would never do something to you. “I know baby, I know. But I’m so proud that you told daddy! You’re such a good girl sweetheart! Let daddy make you a deal. You don’t have to eat a lot but I need you to eat something and after that, I get you your present…” you looked up in curiosity and Chris smiled, knowing he got you.

You felt your heart flutter at his praises and more into relaxation and into that zone. “Is that a deal baby girl?” he asked you as he playfully raised one eyebrow. You chuckled and nodded. “Okay, sweetheart. Let’s go downstairs than.” He helped you up and downstairs while holding your hand. You both sat down on the table and Chris didn’t put much on your plate but enough for you. “If you really don’t want to eat anymore, you tell me okay pretty girl.” He told you, looking you in the eye and you nodded. He gave you a loving smile and kissed the back of your hand. You softly asked him about his day and Chris told you slightly. Not everything, that would come later, but enough to get you distracted right now.

After dinner and Chris cleaning up, he suggested to take a shower together and he would give you the present when you were both done. When you were in this ‘little’ state, you wouldn’t say much. You were more on the quite side and that was perfectly fine with Chris. It felt like his heart would burst with love, kind off like in that puppy interview but more on the inside.

Chris helped you get undressed and into the shower. You waited patiently for Chris to join you and he smiled when he saw you waiting for him. He pulled you into his chest and you carefully wrapped your arms around him. You let out a content sigh when he went with his hand over your hair, making it a bit wet while the warm water hit your back. He gently washed your hair and put in your shampoo and conditioner. He saw that you were relaxed but still very sad and gloomy.

He placed multiple kisses on your forehead before switching places with you. You waited for him and he chuckled softly as he saw that you wanted to cuddle. “You can still hold daddy if you want to baby girl.” He told you and didn’t have to tell you twice. Your arms already around him and your head resting against his chest while he washed his own hair. After he was done, he placed a towel around you first and one around himself after before getting out. He saw how clingy you were today and you weren’t that a lot so he enjoyed this thoroughly

He placed the toilet seat down and sat down on it, pulling you into his lap. You crawled against him and let you both dry up like this as he noticed that you just wanted to be held. That was all it ever was for you. You didn’t really wanted anything else in this state than just to be held and loved. Sometimes it broke his heart if he thought about it too much but was happy that at least he could provide that for you right now and that was all that mattered to him. That you were okay right now. I mean, you weren’t feeling okay but that you were safe and held, by him.

He just wanted to heal every piece that ever broke and glue it back together with love. Chris was thinking too much about it right now and as silent as you were, you just looked at him until he snapped out of it. “You okay?” you asked him softly and for some reason a bit scared which didn’t go unnoticed by Chris. “Yeah, yeah of course I am sweetheart. Just thinking about ways to make you feel better.” He told you and kissed your nose, taking away that anxiety that you were bottling up. “You think we’re dry pumpkin?” he asked you, making you giggle. “Yeah I think so.” He smiled. “Alright then, let’s get dressed and downstairs to cuddle.” You lit up completely by the word cuddle.

He knew that you even forgot about the present as you were so caught up by the cuddling which made him chuckle. He helped you with your panties and softly placed lotion on every inch of your body before pulling out the big pink blanket sweater that he gave you a while back. The one that was almost 3 sizes to big for you. He chuckled the first time you wore it and told you that you reminded him of boo from Monster inc when she was in that monster suit that was too big. You both laughed a lot that day and every time you would wear it, you and Chris shared a chuckle at the font memory.

Chris gently brushed your hair first and after putting all the needed products in them and after he helped you with your skincare. His hair was fluffy and you couldn’t help but stare at it while he helped you out right now. He chuckled softly at how nonchalant you were right now. You even went with your fingers through his hair and Chris couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face right now.

After you were both done, you finally headed downstairs. “Sweetheart, remember that I got you something?” he chuckled softly as you already forgot. You nodded and was glued to his side if you weren’t already. “Okay, close your eyes pretty baby.” he told you and you quickly complied. “Hands in front of you cupcake.” He told you and you could hear the smile in his voice and once again you did as you were asked. You felt something soft and grabbed it. “Okay you can open your eyes now sweetheart.” You saw that it was a giant bunny plushy and your eyes were glistening with happiness. You smiled so bright that it was contagious. You flew your arms around Chris and he chuckled louder, happy that he could get you to smile today. “Thank you so much! I really love it!” you told him while you rested your head against his chest. “I’m glad to hear sweetie. Let’s cuddle on the couch now.” he told you and held your hand as he walked to the couch. The big plushy tucked underneath your arm.

Chris sat down and you plopped on his lap. Your knees leaning against his chest while he softly rubbed small circles on your kneecap and back, trailing up and down from your spine. “What movie do you want to watch sweetheart?” he looked at you with love in his eyes. “Despicable me?” you looked at him hopeful. He smiled, he could never say no to you when you looked at him like this. “Of course.” He told you as he took the remote and searched for the movie while you held the plushy in front of you to look at it. Chris smiled at the sight while he tried to concentrate on his search for the movie.

Once he put it on you looked a bit at the screen but felt Chris’s eyes on you. You looked up to meet his warm blue eyes and saw him smile lovingly, making you feel very shy and flustered. His hair caught your attention once again and went with your fingers through it. Chris leaned slightly your way so you could play with his hair. Your eyes big as they were glued on him while he let out a soft relaxing sigh. The movie caught your attention back again and you crawled more against Chris while he wrapped his arms around you, his head resting softly on top of you while you cuddled with the plushy. Without knowing, your fingers were keeping ahold of Chris’s shirt, not letting him go.

After a while you got tired again of all the heavy emotions that you’ve felt today and now that you were finally a little bit better. Chris was softly massaging your head and took a quick look at your face while you tried to fight your heavy eyelids. He chuckled softly, going unknown by you. “Let’s go upstairs sweetheart.” You hummed a little and Chris softly patted your back so you would get up, which you did.

Chris knew that you didn’t want to leave his side so he held your hand while he put all the lights out and led you up the stairs. He sat you down on the counter and handed you your brush. You were so tired that you almost nodded asleep with the toothbrush in your mouth. Chris took the toothbrush from your mouth while you quickly woke up again from your little drift off. Chris smiled lovingly and you felt a bit embarrassed. “It’s okay pretty baby. Daddy’s got you. Let me help you right now. I know you’re a big girl and can do it yourself but let me right now.” he tried to take control and you let him, way to tired to argue or make a fuss about it.

When you were both done, he helped you off the counter and into the bedroom, helping you out of the unit of a sweater. He put his shirt over your head and make you crawl into bed before getting his own clothes off. He laid down next to you while you were already all over him like a koala. He laughed while you tried to get comfortable. Your leg over a part of his chest, your arms wrapped around him as if he was a big teddy bear, which he was but wouldn’t say it out loud. He held you tightly, his fingertips slowly going over your head, making sure that you would fall asleep first before he would, making sure that you were okay. He knew it would take a while before you would feel like yourself again but he would do everything in his power to help you get to that point.

Taglist: @patzammit @rogersdrysdalebarber @justile @babyevansblog @hazelqueenland @littlebluecupcake @seitmai @mavrellover91 @phildunphyisadilf

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elmoslungcancer · 8 months

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Howl x Male reader

Angst? Happy ending

Lowercase when words should be uppercase is probably common. As well as there is probably incorrect punctuation.

Big ass paragraphs as well.

Went to look at my drafts and saw this calling my name.

It was peaceful and quiet. Calcifer's fire makes the room feel warm, cozy, and safe. You don't wake up because of the quietness, you wake up because there is no chaos hell even Calcifer isn't talking up a storm.

Howl had a break down earlier and ran off somewhere you were waiting for him, lately every time something doesn't go his way it seems to set off a bomb inside of him. He isn't the best with expressing his feelings all you wish he would do is talk it out as a normal couple. Though it is better than screaming at you and having to clean up the green goo.

As you toss another log to calcifer even though he already has three, you sit back on the rocking chair, and you wait hoping to hear the click. You want to see his face; you want to scream at him, you want to be angry at him, you want to ignore him, give him the silent treatment when he tries to act like nothing happened, but who are you fooling to think you'll just ignore him.

You hear the wheel click at least you thought you did. It could be anyone though. Was it Sofie? She's a sweet girl, but lately she's been working on her hat business. Plus it was too late for her to be coming here. You've tucked Markl into bed already. Even though he claims he's a big boy that can take care of himself, he still loves it when you tuck him in, read him a story, give him a kiss on the forehead, and wish him sweet dreams as you shut his door.

You start to feel drowsy so you get off the rocking chair and give calcifer another log, even though he insists he will be good for the log. You tell him it's a treat, to think of it as a thank you for keeping you company, and keeping you warm. While you walk up to the table you pick a plate and lay it on the table, and you grab a box of some pastries you got early from a bakery. The ladies there were so sweet and kind it made you smile a little while setting some on the plate for when he returns.

You close the box and leave the box on the counter, not on a shelf too high in case Markl wakes up in the night, and wants a quick snack before he goes back to bed. You rinse and dry your hands off and walk upstairs, but not without saying goodnight Calcifer. As you lay on the bed you stare up at the ceiling where clocks stare back at you. You know this isn't a healthy relationship. Yes fights are common in relationships healthy or not. Not being able to talk about them because your partner is having a tantrum, and you have no clue where he is not normal

You want to set boundaries no you need to. You can't be the only one wanting to make this work out. You hear the door open and hear Calcifer screaming, "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? DO YOU KNOW HOW WORRIED M/N WAS?" There was no point it was a cycle. After Howl comes back home from wherever he decided to head off to. He ignores Calcifer, heads upstairs takes a shower and comes to lay down in bed with you. You start to fall asleep but then you feel a body next to you hugging you from behind. You try to ignore it as he always does this but then you feel him start to cry. You feel shocked because he usually just passes out, but this is new.

"m/n.." he mumbles in-between your shirt and his hiccups. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry. What I'm doing is wrong..I want to break out of those habits...but I can't it's hard. It's not right for me to drag you with me. Please let me make it up to you." He says as he buries his head deeper into your back and holds onto you tighter. So you tap his arms signaling him to let go, he does as well as scooting back to give you some space. You turn to face him seeing your tear stained face hurts you. You always hated seeing Howl cry. You cup his face and nuzzle noses together.

"Howl, yes I am upset you keep running away instead of talking this out like adults. I want you to try to stop doing it, I know it won't happen right away as it's a cycle for you, but I want you to try to break that cycle." You say as you pet his hair and move his hair out the way to give him a forehead kiss. His eyes widden and start filling up with tears and he buries his head in your chest. You pet his hair as his body shakes.

"I love you Howl and I want us to work, but it takes two. We will talk more later in the morning. I want us to set boundaries, I want you to tell me what's a clear no in your book, and what's in mine. Let's rest for now, but I want you to know I love you very much Howl and don't forget it." As you finish you kiss his head and wrap your arms around him.

How writing this made me feel:

Anyways thanks for reading

#howl x male reader #howl's moving castle #male reader #Haven't wrote a how fic since july 26 2021 lol #🍮howl

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qzawhateverilike · 2 months

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Criminal minds Fic

TW: suicide thoughts.

Just a rough draft for a fic that's been running in my head for a bit. May post this to Ao3 eventually. Who knows. Anyways, enjoy.

It’s Tuesday night, they have the next couple of days off after a big case. He plans to jump. Derek asks if he needs a ride home, Reid says no. Asks that if anything ever happened to him, that Derek takes care of his fish. Morgan agrees to, asks what’s bringing this on/up, Reid says nothing, just “lost in his head.” Morgan is skeptical, kinda concerned, again asks “You sure you’re ok kid? I got nothing planned if you wanna come over and have dinner, maybe watch a new documentary? You talked about the new dolphin one on the way home.” “I’m fine, thanks Derek.” He pats Derek’s shoulder and goes home.

Derek, not one for letting things go. Pulls up a map. “Bridges near east D.C” and finds the closest one to Spencer’s apartment. It’s about 9 pm so it’s dark, slightly chilly in early March or April when he finds him. “I hate that I’m right,” He thinks as he spots Spencer across the bridge. Just staring into the water below. He’s not dressed well for the weather, just a stupid sweater vest and thin dress pants. His phone and wallet are beside him, a classic sign of suicide. The bridge is quiet tonight somehow. There’s construction a few miles north so apparently everyone is detouring around it tonight.

He slowly approaches Reid. Not wanting to startle the young man into jumping. “If you jump, I’ll jump too.” Even just the normal pitch and volume of Morgan’s voice startles the suicidal man. “Hey hey, relax, it’s just me.” Big brother mode: activate. “Spencer, what’s going on?” The younger man is silent, not processing anything, just frozen, terrified.

“What?” Reid breathlessly lets out. If Morgan hadn’t been so close, he may have missed it.

“Hey man, come here.” He pulls Reid into a bone crushing hug. Reid starts crying then. Derek brings them to the ground so they’re sitting with Reid in his lap, tucked up against him.

Neither man knows how long they sit there, hugging, thankful that the other is there. Reid’s still crying when he asks “how did you find me?”

“Closest bridge to your house. You said once you like walking there after a long case.” Morgan replies, still playing with Spencer’s hair to soothe him.

A few minutes later, “How did you know?”

“Your fish are your most prized possession.” The implicit meaning not lost on either man. The knowledge that his best friend, his brother cared about him starting a new cycle of tears to fall. Derek holds on to him even tighter. They both know they have to talk about this later. They both know this isn’t gonna fix him right away or make him realize his worth in an instance. But right now? They’re both safe.

Morgan drives Reid back to his place for a full meal and to talk. Morgan is all bro-y. No ship. Sits him down, tells him to talk to him before it gets this bad, asks if he has a therapist. Tells him he always has his back and his door is always open. Gives Reid a spare key. Tells Reid to stay the night and that he’s not a burden. Reid talks about everything over tea (“Tea?” “Last time you came over you made fun of me for not having tea so I bought some last week. I hope lemon and earl grey are ok.” Both men are smiling: Reid for the thought and kindness. Morgan is smiling at the memory and that Reid is still here, appreciating it.) He talks about how hard the last few cases have been, it’s around the anniversary of Hankel and how he’s still sober but it all feels like hell right now. How he usually talks to JJ about more of his feelings and stuff but that she yelled at him today for just asking “How are you?” Because the case hit everyone hard and he wanted to try and be there for JJ but she was so rude about turning him down that it felt like the dam of “self preservation” and “will to live” burst and he was hollow. That’s why he asked Derek about the fish. And Reid apologises so much throughout the whole story. He’s sorry for not talking with Derek more, for not talking to the other team members, for not taking care of himself in general (“Three hours a night isn’t enough pretty boy.” “It’s all I can get at a time these days. Between the nightmares, the weird noises outside, and cases.” he shrugs, “I’m lucky to even get sleep.” “Is that how the migraines started?” “Something like that,” he shrugs again, “the amount of stress and not getting enough time to heal made the existing problems in my brain worse. I used to only get the occasional migraine. Now, I get a couple a week at least.” “Spencer.” )

He apologizes for even wanting to die and leaving the team alone. How he knows on some level he’s valuable but on days like today, he feels worthless. They hug more, Derek promises to do better by him and to remind Spencer that he’s there for him. Even if he’s mad at Reid or stressed, Morgan still wants him in his life and he’s still valuable.

#mentioningmargins #criminal minds #derek morgan #spencer reid #bros #healing #helping each other #talking #story idea #first draft #writing #fanficiton #hopeful ending #bromance #love #depression #anxiety #tw depressing stuff

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nugnthopkns · 3 years

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dance me to the end of love (i)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, potential spoilers for the west wing if you've never seen the show

series masterpost: here

a/n: hi!! i am so incredibly happy to finally be putting this fic out into the world. it means an awful lot to me and i can't wait to share the little world i've created :)) x

Magdalene is content with where she’s ended up.

Denver is wonderful. Her friends are there, her cat is there, and it’s the perfect place for a fresh start. She arrived in the city nearly six years ago – a wide-eyed University of Denver freshman and has stayed put ever since. Her hometown of Aspen holds a few too many bad memories, but is close enough that she can return if an emergency calls for it. So far she hasn’t left, too engrossed in finishing her degree and moving on. There’s a job offer lined up with the university’s library upon graduation that Magdalene is ecstatic about. It means she gets to stay right where she is – where she’s comfortable.

☼☼☼☼

The sun might be shining as she exits her apartment building, but it’s cold for March. Magdalene pulls the thick scarf her best friend Bette got her for Christmas higher up her face and walks as quickly as possible to campus. There’s a brief meeting to attend with her advisor before grabbing lunch with Bette, and then her plan is to spend the rest of the day holed up in the library working on her thesis. It’s due in two weeks, with the defence in just over a month, and Magdalene is incredibly nervous. Though she’d gone through submitting her undergraduate thesis two years ago, presenting her master’s research was going to be a lot harder. She’s heard through the grapevine that the committees are being tough this year and she doesn’t want to fail.

Dr. Williams is waiting for her in his office with a smile on his face. He’s a tall man, with thin facial features and wire glasses that box him perfectly into the intimidating professor stereotype. “Miss Stevenson, please sit,” he gestures to the chair across from him.

“Gerald,” she sighs, “You can call me Magdalene, I don’t mind. Besides, it makes you quite the hypocrite if you insist I call you by your first name but you won’t use mine.” There’s no malice in her voice, just a decent amount of teasing.

The older man scoffs but concedes. “I suppose you’re right. Well then Magdalene, tell me, how are your final edits coming along?”

Magdalene spends nearly twenty minutes detailing all the elements she has tweaked since their last meeting, from the title to the citation style. She’s out of breath by the time she’s done, rambling at an impressive speed, and takes a big gasp of air while the professor mulls over her words. Dr. Williams doesn’t say anything, causing Magdalene to shift anxiously in her seat. “Sir, is there something wrong?”

He shakes his head. “Absolutely nothing,” he beams, “Everything is perfect. It’s a shame you don’t want to continue researching. You’d make a fabulous academic.”

The compliment makes Magdalene’s heart soar. It means a lot, especially coming from the person who has seen her cry over the oxford comma. “Thank you sir, but I belong in the practical realm. Someone has to file all the documents you obsessively scan.”

She leaves the building soon after, promising to stop by after she drops off the final draft in a few weeks. It’s a bit later than she expected and hopes Bette won’t be mad. There’s nothing the blonde hates more than poor time management, but Magdalene prays she’ll understand. It wasn’t that long ago and Bette was scheduling her own appointments with advisors on how to graduate. Barn Owl Book Company is located halfway between the school and her apartment, making it the perfect spot to meet. In addition to being a used book store, Barn Owl sports one of the best cafés in downtown Denver. Bette is perched delicately at her friend’s favourite seat, a bay window converted into a small nook, and typing furiously on her phone.

“Sorry I’m late,” Magdalene apologizes, “Williams talked a lot more than I expected him to.”

Bette looks up and smiles, shoving a cup in the other girl’s direction. “As always. How is he?”

Sliding into the booth, Magdalene fills her friend in on what’s been going on in their former professor’s life. Bette graduated with a minor in Classics, and it was Magdalene's major, but the former decided not to further her education and is instead doing full time charity work for the Colorado Avalanche. Her boyfriend Tyson is one of their star players, and the two of them are so smitten it makes Magdalene sick. Conversation quickly turns from school to life, which she’s grateful for.

“So,” Bette says, “Are you in for the trip this summer? I’ve got to confirm the reservation in a week or something.”

“I don’t know Bee, I'm going to be the new girl. Asking for time off like two months into the job would be rude.”

“Linny,” the blonde whines, “Please? I want you to come.”

Magdalene scowls. Bette knows just how much the nickname sours her mood but she chose to use it anyway. “Don’t call me that,” she snaps with quite a bite. “Can someone else take my spot if I decide not to go a little closer to the date?”

“Of course! Gravy said he’d fill an extra spot if one comes up so we don’t lose the deposit,” Bette blabs before trying to switch gears entirely. Magdalene cuts her off.

“Who’s Gravy?”

If her friend is exasperated by Magdalene’s lack of knowledge surrounding hockey, she doesn’t show it. Bette calmly explains that Gravy, who’s real name is Ryan, is a defenceman with the Avalanche and a good friend of Tyson’s. She also makes a point of mentioning that he’s single, to which Magdalene rolls her eyes. Bette has a masterplan for her life – which includes her best friend becoming romantically involved with an Avalanche player so the two of them can live the better half life together. As the best friend, Magdalene is constantly barraged with potential players who are looking to date. Once she went on a few dates with Mikko, but that ended fairly quickly when the two realized they were better as friends. Every time since she’s turned Bette down as gently as possible, not wanting to get involved with anyone. Her life is just starting, and Magdalene wants to be secure before settling down.

The conversation eventually shifts to what Magdalene plans to wear for both her thesis defence and graduation. Bette is fashion savvy, while Magdalene is decidedly not. Her everyday wardrobe consists of collared button-downs and sweater vests, which is supposedly never going to back a comeback, according to Bette at least. The blonde eventually wears Magdalene down, and secures a position as stylist for the graduation ceremony. There was an attempt at the thesis defence, but the other girl insists she needs to be as comfortable as possible on such a stressful occasion.

A glance to the clock on the opposite wall has Magdalene stretching her arms and giving an apologetic glance to her friend on the other side of the table. “I should go,” she says. “I’ve got to put in some serious work on my citations today, and you know Caligula doesn’t like it when I’m gone all day.”

Bette rolls her eyes, but there isn’t any frustration behind the gesture. “I swear to god Mags, your cat has more separation anxiety than I do. Speaking of, I’m supposed to pick Tyson up at the airport and I’m running behind.”

“Tell him I say hi,” Magdalene says as she wraps her arms around Bette for a quick hug.

The two girls part ways on the sidewalk, with Magdalene heading back to campus and Bette sliding into the sleek Audi she shares with her boyfriend. Headphones find their way into her ears, and Magdalene listens to a random comedy podcast. Once tucked safely inside the library she’ll put on her favourite lo-fi playlist and concentrate, but for now she just enjoys the funny anecdotes of stories past.

It’s quiet in the library for a Tuesday, though Magdalene isn’t complaining. Her favourite table, the one she swears up and down is the only reason she ever gets anything done, is open, and she all but sprints to place her bag on the worn leather chair. While setting up her work station a few of the librarians come over to offer their congratulations for her upcoming job. News certainly travels fast around here, Magdalene thinks, but accepts their generosity with a smile on her face. They leave her alone soon enough and the tedious work of double checking the formatting of every single citation in the sixty-five page paper begins.

Hours pass, and Magdalene stays working in the library until as late as she possibly can. Caligula is going to start to worry about the length of her absence soon and his anxiety response of knocking over plants is not a mess she feels like cleaning up. She packs up her laptop and walks the short distance home as fast as possible.

“Little boots, I’m home,” Magdalene parrots in a sing-song voice as she slips her jacket off her shoulders and onto the hanger. At the sound of his nickname, the small cat bounds into the entryway. “Hi darling, did you miss me?” Magdalene gets an obnoxiously loud purr in response that she takes it as a yes. She reaches down to pick up the tiny animal before continuing further into the apartment, scratching behind his ears as she does so. The two of them settle into the respectably sized couch, where they stay for the rest of the night watching reruns of The West Wing before Magdalene falls asleep.

☼☼☼☼

“You fucking did it!” Bette shrieks as she bounds towards her best friend. Magdalene braces herself for the oncoming assault, and manages to keep them both upright after Bette jumps into her arms.

Her thesis defence had just finished, and the committee found Magdalene a worthy candidate for the Master of Information Science qualification. The presentation itself was open to the public, so Bette and Tyson sat in the front row to support Magdalene, but were escorted out for the conversation that followed. The two girls had developed a code so the news could be shared in a subtle way, though Bette threw the original plan out the window as soon as she saw her friend give a sneaky thumbs up when the conference room door opened.

“Congrats Mags,” Tyson says sincerely, doing his best not to add to the growing spectacle, but Magdalene can tell he wants to give her a bone crushing hug.

“Thank you,” she smiles softly, “And thank you guys for coming. It means a lot.” As two of her closest friends, both Bette and Tyson know that her family situation is rocky at best, and having them act as her support system means more than she’ll ever be able to articulate.

The couple shares a knowing look before engulfing their friend in a hug. “We’re always going to be here for you,” Bette whispers, “No matter what.”

Magdalene’s smile is so genuine it crinkles her eyes as she wraps her arms around Bette and Tyson’s shoulders and leads them out the door and into the sunshine. The group continues to the parking lot, where they climb into Tyson’s car and drive off campus in the direction of Magdalene’s favourite restaurant. Though she had tried to convince her friends they didn’t need to celebrate, she failed, and Magdalene soon finds herself laughing hysterically over a plate of carbonara as Tyson tells a story about the shenanigans the team got up to on their last road trip.

There’s a game tonight, and Bette has somehow convinced her into attending. Magdalene knows she should go, expand her social horizons a little, but all she wants to do is curl up in bed and sleep for three weeks. Her one condition is that she can go home straight after the game without being guilted into following the group to whatever nightclub they’ll celebrate the win or drink away the loss in. Tyson has to get ready so he drops the two girls off at Magdalene's apartment complex. She’s in charge of getting Bette to the rink, and she’ll leave with her boyfriend after the game.

Once inside the confines of her home, Magdalene promptly lies on the floor. “Holy shit,” she sighs, “I did it. I fucking did it.”

“You did!” Bette says as she lies down beside her best friend. “I’m so fucking proud of you, and Tyson is too. Even if he won’t tackle you in public to prove it.”

The comment garners a laugh from Magdalene, which alerts Caligula to the presence of others in the apartment. He pads over the rug currently being occupied by two adults, and snuggles into the small space between them. Bette and Magdalene continue to lay there, petting the cat and looking back fondly on all the times Magdalene called her friend in tears because she didn’t think she could push herself any farther. Bette was always there to pick up the slack, editing whatever section Magdalene was working on or to bring over a hot meal. Her support earned her the top spot in the acknowledgements section of the thesis.

Ball Arena is already crawling with people when Magdalene pulls into the small lot for player’s and their families. Normally she parks with the general public, but Bette insists they watch this game from the better halves box, and these spaces are closer to that entrance.

“Stop dragging your feet,” the blonde chastises as Magdalene takes her time cutting the engine. “I want to get a glass of rosé before they sell out.”

Sighing, Magdalene follows her orders. “Don’t you have a special bar in the box?” she asks while locking the car.

“Yeah, but the other girls are absolute fiends. They’ll drink it all before we get there with no remorse.”

The girls climb the stairs to the better halves box, Bette chatting excitedly about the game, but Magdalene stops just before the entrance. She’s met most of the others on multiple occasions and has nothing to worry about, but she can’t help but feel anxious. Her life is so different than everyone else’s in the space, and it feels like cheating when she’s there because she isn’t romantically involved with anyone on the roster. Bette likes to joke that she’s her better half, but Magdalene knows it’s said just to calm her nerves.

“It’ll be fine,” Bette whispers while squeezing her hand, “And if you get too uncomfortable we can find some seats in the nosebleeds.”

Once inside Magdalene’s nerves dissipate. Most of the other wives and girlfriends pay her no mind, but the ones that are especially close to Bette congratulate her on passing her defence. It warms her heart a little, and the small group Magdalene finds herself in settles down to watch the game unfold.

It’s a fairly intense one between Colorado’s division rival St. Louis. Both teams are fighting for first place in the conference, and a win for the Avalanche would put them three points ahead of the Blues instead of one. Players from both sides are amped up, and more than once a scrum at the net has turned into a dog-pile. Colorado is outplaying the other team, but have still managed to find themselves a goal short heading into the final period. At the buzzer Tyson takes the face-off and is immediately shoved by a member of the opposite team. He goes down hard, and Bette squeezes Magdalene’s hand so tightly she fears it will lose blood flow. Silence falls over the arena as Tyson doesn’t immediately get up. The inside of lip finds its way between her teeth and Magdalene bites down hard, worried about her friend. She’s so focussed on Tyson that she doesn’t notice a fight breaking out.

“Holy shit, Gravy is going to town!”

The remark is made by someone Magdalene recognizes as Gabe Landeskog’s wife, and it makes her peel her eyes off of Bette’s worried features and scan the ice for some action. Sure enough, a very tall man is laying right hooks to someone who looks significantly smaller than him on the Avalanche blue line. The referees let the fight continue until Tyson drags himself off the ice and onto the bench before separating the men and throwing them in the penalty box. Magdalene can tell words are still being exchanged from both sides of the glass, but she’s more focussed on the fact Tyson doesn’t make his way to the dressing room – a good sign that allows Bette to drop her hand and let out a shaky breath.

Nothing of great importance happens until MacKinnon ties the game with seven minutes left. It happens while the Avalanche are short handed, and the goal seems to light a fire beneath the team. Magdalene may not know much about hockey, but she’s smart enough to notice the insane amount of energy all the players suddenly have. Time ticks by slowly and before she realizes it, the final face-off is taking place. Luckily it’s in the St. Louis zone and won by Colorado. The puck is tipped back to the same player who got in the fight for Tyson, Gravy, and he one times it right into the back of the net. The buzzer goes off not a second later, and the entire team piles on top of the player who just won them the game.

Bette and Magdalene join in the shrieks of the other partners, jumping from their seats in excitement. Eventually they make their way down to the hallway outside the locker room and lean against the brick while they wait for Tyson.

“You don’t have to stay,” Bette insists, “I can wait by myself.”

Magdalene shakes her head. “No way. I want to make sure he’s okay too. What good is a friend with a black eye?”

The other girl laughs at her friend’s stubbornness but doesn’t shoo her away. Once Magdalene has made a decision it’s hard to get her to sway from it, and Bette knows better than to push. Besides, who is she to deny her friend a bit more social interaction? Magdalene has spent the past six years practically holed up in the library and deserves to stand in a crowded hallway.

The friends chat idly while they wait, with Magdalene sharing some of the most ridiculous questions she got asked in her defence interview that morning. She’s mid story when Tyson exits the dressing flanked by a man dressed sharply in all black.

“Hey guys,” Tyson greets, dipping his head to place a kiss to Bette’s cheek before doing an elaborately goofy handshake with Magdalene.

“Good game baby,” Bette compliments sweetly. She then turns her attention to the boy standing awkwardly on the fringes. “You too Graves.”

He smiles shyly, muttering out a small thanks. It’s then he seems to notice the final member of the group, and offers his hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m Ryan.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Magdalene.”

She puts two and two together on the walk to her car. The Ryan Magdalene just met is the same who will take her spot on the trip, fought someone in Tyson’s defence, and scored the game winning goal. Though they’ve only said a few words, she likes him. He seems genuine, and those people are the rarest to find.

☼☼☼☼

Magdalene is walking across a graduation stage for the final time in two days. However, she can’t find anyone to take the third ticket. The University of Denver has a stupid rule where all graduates must have three guests attend the ceremony. Bette and Tyson are obviously occupying two of Magdalene’s seats, but she’s having trouble filling the third.

“I can ask Tys if one of the guys is free,” Bette shrugs. The two girls are sitting in the window of Barn Owl drinking iced lattes and discussing what Magdalene should wear to the ceremony.

“It’s okay,” Magdalene says, “I don’t want to bother anyone. Maybe I’ll just ask June.”

Her friend’s eye roll so far back into her head Magdalene isn’t sure they won’t stay there. “You can’t ask your boss to watch you graduate Mags! Besides, Gravy owes Tyson a favour and was already looking for something to do. I’m sure he won’t mind wasting a few hours as long as he gets drinks out of it.”

There isn’t a better option, so even though she barely knows the guy, Magdalene agrees. “Make sure he gets this?" she sighs, handing her friend an envelope with a single ticket in it. "I have to go. Caligula should be done at the vet soon.”

“Say hello to little boots for me,” Bette giggles as she waves goodbye.

Hours later, tucked into her couch with a glass of wine in one hand and Caligula playing with the fingers on the other, Magdalene realizes she invited a complete stranger to her graduation and how that could be a terrible idea. Sure, Ryan sounds like a great guy from the way Bette and Tyson talk about him, but he’s only ever spoken three words to her. Since that game she’s gone out with the team a few times, but the man with the piercing stare is yet to make an appearance. Magdalene considers that perhaps he’s more like her than his profession gives him credit for, and she feels a twinge of guilt about being worried he’d cause a scene at the ceremony.

There isn’t any more time for her to fret over the third and final guest on the list. At the last minute Bette decides there’s nothing in Magdalene’s closet that’s suitable for her to wear, so a trip to a local second-hand store ensues. While it’s nice that her friend has taken their carbon footprints into consideration, Magdalene wishes it didn’t have to happen an hour and a half before the ceremony is supposed to start.

“We have to be there in twenty minutes Bette,” she frets, tapping her foot nervously against the tile flooring.

If they can’t find whatever it is Bette’s looking for, Magdalene will have to walk across the stage in denim cutoffs and a faded t-shirt with Neil Young’s face on it, which is something she’s hoping to avoid at all costs.

“Have no fear, Mags,” she says with a knowing glint in her eye, “For I have found it.” Bette holds up a hanger that is holding a beautiful long sleeve dress adorned with a whimsical floral print.

Magdalene can’t help the gasp that escapes from her. “It’s beautiful,” she breathes, “But let’s hope it fits.”

The dress does in fact fit, and the workers are kind enough to let her wear it out of the store. Bette drives at a speed that might not be the safest to travel at in downtown Denver, but she gets to the school with minutes to spare. She shoos her friends out of the car so she can go pick up Tyson and Ryan, and Magdalene checks in with little hassle. The pool of graduates is fairly small, so she chats with a few classmates while they wait for the call to put their gowns on. Time passes quicker than expected, and soon Magdalene is being directed to her seat. She zones out while the dean gives a congratulatory speech and they go through the first few names. At one point she looks backwards into the crowd to find Bette, Tyson, and Ryan all giving her a thumbs up. The nerves she didn’t even know she had settle.

A faculty member signals for Magdalene’s row to stand up, and she smoothes her dress before dutifully following the person in front of her. Giddiness bubbles in her stomach at the thought of being done school forever. A hand from the stage crew give a cue, and Magdalene appears on the stage as her accomplishment is broadcast through the microphone.

“Magdalene Stevenson is being awarded a Masters in Information Science in Archival Studies and Records Management.” It feels so good to finally be finished that she lets a tear slip as she shakes the hand of the staff member handing her the package with her diploma in it.

The rest of the ceremony passes in a blur, and before Magdalene knows it her friends are approaching to congratulate her. Bette and Tyson wrap her in a tight hug, murmuring praise in her ears. Ryan stands awkwardly to the side before Bette drags him into the celebration. The four of them stand in the courtyard where the ceremony was for much longer than needed. Bette is crying enough to refill Sloan Lake if there is ever a drought and is yet to let go of Magdalene’s figure.

It’s only when the event staff ask them to leave so they can tear down the stage does Magdalene turn to leave campus for the last time as a student. She’ll be back in a few weeks as an employee, but deep down she knows this is the last time she’ll ever feel such a deep connection to the place.

“Victory is mine, victory is mine! Great day in the morning people, victory is mine!” Magdalene yells, quoting Josh Lyman as she skips down the path towards Bette’s car.

Both Bette and Tyson are confused at the sudden outburst, not knowing what she’s talking about, but Ryan responds without missing a beat. “Should I bring you all the muffins and bagels in the land?” His response doesn’t clear anything up, but it elicits a giant smile from Magdalene, who laughs and nods in confirmation.

Sitting in the back of Bette’s Audi, on the way to a graduation party she’s supposed to know nothing about, Magdalene decides that she wants to get to know Ryan Graves better. From what she’s garnered from Bette and Tyson he’s a class act, standing up for friends and giving good advice. He likes The West Wing and showed up to a stranger’s graduation, so how bad can he be?

☼☼☼☼

additional notes: see what magdalene's graduation dress looks like here // the quote from the west wing is from 1.02 if you were curious!

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy (add yourself to the taglist!)

#ryan graves imagine #ryan graves x oc #ryan graves fic #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites #dmtteol

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biisexualemma · 4 years

Text

revenge. oscar diaz

word count: 1332

warnings: cuts and bruises and lots of angry

requested: no but i read a really good imagine on here about the reader getting caught up with the prophets and it kind of inspired this (link here)

plot: you get hurt

a/n: this is something i‘ve had in my drafts for ages so i’m posting just as some sort of content. i’m sort of getting back into writing but it’s taking me a minute. i’ve got a few requests to write and i promise i’ll write them at some point i just need a break lol. anyway hope this helps you guys somehow, i know everything is super heavy atm (and i encourage you guys to keep going and keep talking / posting / having discussions about it) but we all need a break every now and again. so hope this helps you take a break.

masterlist

you knew what was coming as soon as you walked in. you knew what his reaction would be. you winced, clutching your side. you'd been holding in your tears for most of the walk home but as soon as you got through the door, you cracked.

his head snapped in your direction, his heart racing when he saw the state you were in. you were walking closer to where he sat with other santos members around him. blood dripping from your nose, your face contorted as you started to cry.

"osc—oscar," his eyes were wide and furious. he was straight over to you, his friends sitting in shock of you. no one dared even touch you, they knew this. it was common knowledge that you were oscar's girl. whoever did this was already dead.

his hands hovered over your face for a split second, he hesitated as he took in the full extent of your injuries. someone jumped you. "who— what— what happened?" he cupped your face, checking out your nose for any breaks but he saw none, just lots of blood. you cried harder when he spoke to you. his heart was breaking but his anger was untameable at this point. "baby— bebe, who did this? who did it? hm? i'll kill 'em. give me a name, now."

his head was all over the place. he wanted to tend to you but he wanted to put a bullet in the head of the person who did this to you. he could feel you shaking, you shook your head. "pro—prophets— i was walking home when they— they pulled up."

your lip was quivering, oscars jaw clenching. his hands moved to your waist and you flinched. eyebrows furrowed, he lifted your shift carefully, noticing a sizeable bruise forming on your ribs. he stepped back, running a hand over his face. he was furious. "names. give me names, mami."

his voice was low, demanding. you reached out, your arms wrapping round his torso, clinging to him. you could hear his heart pounding. he held you, his face tucked into your neck, his heavy breaths felt against your skin.

you pulled away slightly, his arms still holding you. you described the car and the three prophets who'd rolled up on you. "i—i don't know their names— i didn't recognise them,” you shook your head, hiccuping as you calmed down. the initial shock of it all had set you off but you were ok. you could manage.

"hombres," he called to the other santos members who sat waiting for their orders. his eyebrows were knitted tight, his lips pulled into a tight line. they all rose, knowing what was coming next. "we're out. pack up and get out. now,” they all did as he said, gearing themselves and heading outside where they waited for oscar who still held onto you tight.

"mami," you looked at him with sad eyes. your cheeks were pink, blood still staining you nose and mouth. oscar pulled you into the kitchen, sitting you in on other chairs. he routed through the freezer before pulling out a bag of peas. he handed them to you. "press that to your stomach. ok? keep it there, even if it gets too cold. it'll help,” he turned his back, now digging through the cupboards, pulling out some bandages, gauze, cloths and whatever he could find. he soaked the cloth in hot water before returning to you. he was a pro at this. he knew what helped. he just didn't think he'd ever have to use any of this on you.

he crouched down in front of you, he held one hand to your face and started cleaning up the blood with the damp cloth with the other. you cringed when he dabbed to hard, and he'd mumbled a soft apology. you noticed his hands shaking slightly, his jaw still tightly clenched as he finished cleaning up your face. "it's not broken," he ducked his head. "puts these up there to stop the bleeding and i'll be back ok?" he handed you some cotton wool to put up your nose and stop anymore bleeding.

you grabbed his hand as he stood up to leave. "do you have to go?" you frowned. it was breaking his heart to look at you like that. he looked away for a split second.

"they gotta pay," he tensed. he huffed. "i'm gonna call cesar, ok? he'll come stay with you. but i gotta go handle this. they're not getting away with this."

your eyelashes fluttered. you knew what he meant, you knew what he was going to do. you had to let him do it. you wouldn't be able to stop him no matter how hard you tried. you often turned a blind eye to that part of oscar's life. you preferred not to get involved.

you nodded, mumbling a soft ok. he leaned down, kissing your forehead gently. "go lay down, ok? i'll be back soon,” you nodded again. he pressed his forehead against yours before letting go.

"i love you,” you mumbled before he could leave. "be careful, please."

"love you,” he turned away and left. you knew cesar would be here soon, but while you were alone you let yourself cry some more, stuffing your nose with cotton wool and laying down in your shared bed with the frozen peas resting on your ribs. you just wanted him to come back in one piece. you tried not to think about it but it was hard not to.

it was late when oscar returned. you and cesar spent the last couple hours talking and watching tv and eating. he was good company when he was around, he kept your mind off things. but when you heard the door unlock, your breath caught in your throat. you'd seen oscar is worse states but it still hurt. he walked past you both, he huffed, running a hand over his face. you nudged cesar, and he took the hint, leaving the two of you alone. you moved from the sofa into the kitchen. you touched his arm, trying to urge him to turn around.

"oscar," you mumbled. he turned to face you, his anger was still evident. his jaw clenched and eyebrows knitted tight. you also noticed a purple bruise forming on his cheekbone, and a couple of cuts, a pretty big one above his eyebrow, and another just on his collarbone. you didn't like that he'd gotten himself like this because of you. "you ok?" you were barely speaking above a whisper. you were careful with what you were saying, you knew how angry he was. you also knew how much oscar hated dealing with these things. you knew he wanted out. he didn't want this life anymore. you could see the mix of emotions in his expression.

he nodded. he glanced at you, his eyes lingering as you walked to the cupboard, pulling out a cloth and soaking it with warm water. you stood in front of him again, beginning to clean the cut on his face.

"i'm sorry," you mumbled, your lip quivered uncontrollably. "it's my fault all this happened,” you didn't look him in the eyes but you could feel his watching you. his hands grabbed your wrist to stop you tending to him.

"don't,” he threw the cloth aside, wrapping his arms around you. he was just glad you were here and you were safe. that's all that mattered to him right now. "you're safe. ok? you don't need to worry about 'em again."

you frowned, leaning your head against his chest once more. you tried not to think about it too much. you just nodded, letting him run his fingers through your hair. "i love you."

"i love you, mami,” he mumbled, his head tucked into your neck. he pulled back slightly, your arms still wrapped around him tight. he moved his hands to either side of your face. "tu eres mi alma. nobody's ever gonna hurt you again. ok?"

he pressed his lips to yours gently, careful not to hurt you. he couldn't bare to lose you.

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byorder-fanfic · 4 years

Text

Finn’s Lost Loves

Summary: Finn’s lost more than anyone else knew because of the war, and every stupid thing his family have done afterwards to keep themselves in charge.

Word count: 2019

Warnings: Mentions war and blood, talks about eating disorder, self harm and self-esteem, and homophobia (only a little bit, period accurate), a lot of toxic masculinity

Author’s note: This is a lot of angst with little bits of fluff and a sad ending. Sorry. It’s basically an overview of Finn’s character, backstory and his relationships with the family that we’ve never gotten to see! It’s based off a piece of prose in my drafts, so if you guys like this, I might post that as well. Hope you enjoy, and please comment, I love hearing your opinions and any constructive criticism you might have xx

Finn loved books. Once upon a time, he really did. He loved the way Tommy did the voices, and Arthur made those wild motions with his hands, and John could always make him laugh as he told him about that thing that happened in the pub last week. He loved how Ada and Polly would tuck him up in bed, place a kiss on his temple and read the letters from the boys. Then they came back, and he didn’t need to read letters. Or books. Or anything really. Soon, he didn’t even go to school. He just wanted to be with his brothers. Now they tell him to piss off more than they beg him to stay. Tommy and Polly scold him for not being able to read off the betting boards, and John makes everyone else laugh when he holds a big volume under Finn’s nose, so that everyone knew that Finn was still illiterate. Finn hates books.

Finn loved Church. He didn’t need Polly to drag him by the heels as he sobbed under the Virgin Mary’s stare like his brothers when he hopped, skipped and a jumped all his way down the road. He always sat by Isaiah, the two boys out-screaming each other in the hymns and seeing who Polly would scold first. He wore the crucifix everyday, and treated his rosary with all the sacred carefulness a six year old could manage. He loved the psalms and Jeremiah’s voice ringing through the streets and the way everyone was always together (even Charlie) on Sunday. Then he had to light candles, praying for his brothers’ safety that was only answered with their damnation as they dragged back blood and French mud into Watery Lane. Now he cries through the paper thin pages of a Bible and his only prayers are that the boys never see his tears. What did he have to cry about after all? He was never a soldier, but he should learn to be a man. Finn hates Church.

Finn loved healing. Ada dragged him along to her nursing classes and soon his only reason to come to Church was to learn how to tie bandages and fix up cuts and bruises. No one noticed his long absences- they either assumed he went to school still, or they were far too busy with the race tracks to care for the whereabouts of their youngest brother. But then he'd slipped up, and he'd never seen his brothers laugh so hard when he proudly told Polly he was going to be a nurse one day. Even his aunt and sister, usually the ones on his side, had to purse their lips together as Arthur roared out: "Hear that, Tom? We got ourselves a Nurse Shelby here! Want a dress and hat to go with it?" He told them all to fuck off and stamped out, but he didn't understand what he said that was so funny. When he asked Isaiah, who had just turned fourteen and starting to see Finn less and less, he just said that being a nurse was a woman's job. He didn't like being laughed at for being a girl, but he didn't know why. He still hoarded textbooks about anatomy and the like under his bed, tracing over the detailed pictures with his skeleton finger as he wished. And wished. And wished. And almost prayed that he could read the little ink words. When he found Arthur with another red line on his neck, he offered him some medicine to cure his big brother's blues, thinking just a bit of Tokyo would keep his brother here with him. No one asked why Finn was sad. Oh well, at least he could protect his brothers now. Finn hates healing. Finn loved food. Always the big eater in the Shelby household, he managed to always have a full stomach despite the poverty that reigned. He was a stickler for sweets, though, and as soon as he mastered the art of sneaking rings and wallets from unsuspecting strangers, he soon graduated to thieving lollipops and boiled sweets and even some toffees that he proudly deposited into his aunt's hand with a toothy grin. But the boys would look into his empty plate and his skinny frame and tell him he'd better watch out, soon he might actually have a shape under those bulky clothes. They always laughed, and he felt himself completely embarrassed at the dinner table. He dumped more sugar than milk into his tea and stole chips when they went to the seaside. He'd always offer to share, wanting to provide for them for once, but they'd tell him he was the one who needed it. He sees his ribs and the little vertebrae of his spine and wonders why can't he just be strong like his brothers. Even though he despises it, he picks up boxing to fill out his form. Maybe training with Isaiah was an extra benefit, but the older boy had long since talked to Finn on the regular, and made a point to laugh at him when he fell onto the floor. So, Finn graduated from second helpings of lunch and too-sweet tea to the sour delights of whiskey and cigarettes. Just like his brothers. Finn hates food. Finn loves his family. He loves Polly, the mother he never had, and will never feel like he does enough to repay her for his entire childhood. Then Michael came back, and soon there wasn't any chore lists on the downstairs table for someone to read out for him, or little check ups throughout the day as she makes sure he's okay. That was when he realised exactly why Polly raised him in her empty arms. He loves Arthur: his eldest brother, who used to lift him up on his shoulders and teach him to draw. Finn still has faded old pictures of galloping stallions (signed in block letters: A.W.S) slipped between the filled out pages of the sketchbooks he hides in his wardrobe. Then Arthur came back, with what everyone calls Flanders Blues, but no one explains, and Finn feels like he's losing his brother everyday when he comes back smelling like a brewery with blood on his fists. Finn loves Tommy. A father figure to him, the kind of man he wants to be when he grows up. But then Greta died and Tommy went to war, and the man who took him horse riding every weekend was gone, and this Tommy was colder. Finn loves John as the best friend he's ever had, always laughing together, giving sometimes useful advice and finding days to just spend time with each other. Despite John's bazillion kids, widowerhood, and then his new wife, he's always had time to spare for his little brother. John was the one who told him what bisexual was when he found Finn sobbing in his room, he was the one that took him to the doctor when he passed out from malnutrition, and he's the one that made him swear to never use razor blades on himself again. Finn loves Ada. He sees why Freddie calls her an angel, and used to love it when she pretended to take Finn to the library when in fact they were both slipping away to a Communist meeting, which would usually end up in Ada and Freddie slipping away and leaving Finn in the trusted supervision of leftist radicals that he happily chatted away to. Ada always took care of him, making sure he was never involved in the business (on either side) and telling him that being a soldier is a life sentence, not an honour. He lives because Ada keeps him safe and sane. Then Ada leaves. Finn hates the Shelby name that everyone screams at him like a condemnation, that invites slurs and hatred that only he gets because he doesn't look like a proper Shelby man. Finn hates his family. Finn loved Isaiah. A childhood crush that brought butterflies to his stomach and blushes to his freckled face. He sketched the boy's face so many times, he knew it by memory. They held hands when they were chased down the streets, laughing and sprinting as their spoils stayed securely in their pockets. But Isaiah was older than him. Soon after adolescence hit the Jesus boy and Peaky Blinders offered him a role, without the constant of Church, the two greatest of friends became almost strangers to one another. But Finn still loved him. He never told anyone, of course. He knew he wasn't a real homosexual, because he most certainly did enjoy holding hands and kissing the cheeks of girls his age (poor boy was flustered to ever do more!) but his heart still belonged to the preacher's boy. With more faithful women in the family than ever before, Finn knew he would be crucified if he ever told anyone. John was the only one who knew, and that was based on the fact he paid more attention to his brother than anyone else combined. He said he should just go for it, but Finn knew Isaiah couldn't be like him. And even if Jeremiah was always the kindest man that Finn ever met, he still didn't trust that the cross on his neck wouldn't shame him or laugh at him for the fact he was completely enamoured with his son. Then Finn got drunk, and when he woke up, his entire family knew exactly how he felt and Isaiah wouldn't look at him in the eye. He ran away to the stables, crying on Uncle Charlie's shoulder who told it would be alright. He made sure to keep an eye on Finn ever since, keeping an eye on his wrists and fists. The incident was soon forgot by everyone but him. Finn couldn't find it in him to hate Isaiah, but he knew he didn't love him any more. Finn has never loved Michael. He thought he could, at first, when he saw the tweed suit and a face more innocent than his. But then Tommy promoted him almost on the spot, and Finn had never at once felt so much rage bubble inside him. Everything he has done for his brothers, every passion he sacrificed, every humiliation he shouldered, just so they could see him as an equal. But no, there are only three Shelby brothers as far as anyone else is concerned, and Finn carries on as errand boy. He ignores all Ada's good advice, and swear that he will make his brothers proud of him one day. So, he puts on the thorn crown of a Peaky cap and wears the waistcoat and wool coat of his brother's likeness, and parades about Small Heath like he actually was apart of the makeshift royal family. Then Finn found Michael and Isaiah kissing in the alleyway. Even though Finn had made a point to announce that his brothers had started giving him more work, Isaiah still fucked off to the pub with Michael every night, devoting his time and attention to only him, and Finn couldn't understand why. Now he did. If Finn had been violent like Arthur, he certainly wouldn't have thought twice about taking the cup on his curls and cutting the smirk off of his cousin. He had stolen his brothers' respect, his surrogate mother's attention, his place in the business, the affections of the one boy Finn had ever loved. He had stolen Finn's everything, and Finn hated him. They both froze and stuttered. Excuses about just being friends, just experimenting, but he saw the way they held each others shaking hands just as he and Isaiah used to hold onto each other as they raced through the streets. "I'm glad you're together." He shocked them both with a forced smile. "You both deserve to be happy." The two were kinder to him after that, almost back to the old friendship he had missed, and Finn knew he didn't hate Michael. Or Isaiah. Or any of his family, really. No, Finn hated himself.

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trippin-over-my-fandoms · 3 years

Text

Let it slip in the @rdrsafehaven discord about my street kid Arthur headcanon, got approval from one (1) person and then this was born (as if I hadn’t already kinda alluded to that in Monsters I’ve Met) so @danger-r-98-5 this is your fault.

Wrote this on my phone in the tumblr app so pls forgive any mistakes.

The Absence of Kindness

Arthur’s life had always been hard. This fact was no less true the day Lyle Morgan had been convicted of his crimes. He was on his own beginning with the days he sat outside the sheriff’s office awaiting his father’s demise, having no mother to turn to as he had lost her years ago. Though, it didn’t feel real until he saw him up on the wooden stand, being tried for the crime of larceny. Until that very morning his father had at least been in a cell just a brick wall away, even if the sheriff wouldn’t let him in to see him.

And he’d been scared before but never as much as he had been that morning as the offenses were read off to the crowd; robbing the bank and making off with five-hundred dollars until caught in the next town over with just over half the money remaining. They were the only crimes this town knew off and Arthur wondered if they would have hung him sooner if they knew of the men he’d killed and how the money had been spent on drink instead of food for his son. And despite the fact of all the horrible things the his father had ever done to him, no matter how many nights he had spent hiding from him when he was drunk or the mornings when he was drug from town to town, or the endless weeks spent with strangers who didn’t care for him, Arthur still feels like crying when he sees him hung. He knows his father is dead and he’s left an orphan, truly and completely alone. He understands that from that moment on he has to be a man if he’s to take care of himself, even if eleven years old is a far cry from the age of manhood.

With his father’s hat too big on his head and a couple of photos tucked into the pocket of the thin coat falling apart at the seems, he’s left to the streets of the town his father had been hung in.

Every single moment was horrible. The days were long and cruel in ways he never could have imagined. Most adults had seen him at the trial and knew he was Lyle Morgan’s child. No matter how pathetic he looked no one trusted him, they expected he’d be a thief just like his father. He didn’t want to be but their lack of pity forced him into it as he wanted nothing more than to live long enough to see the next sunrise.

The nights were almost worse. Darker and colder than he had remembered them being when his father was alive. He’d hide wherever he could from the nightlife who’d prey on easy targets like him. On the nights he was separated from the other stray children who called the town home, he’d cry and pray to the god his mother had believed in, and maybe he did once too, wishing the next day would be better, holding onto the memory of the kindness he’d been shown the day his father got too drunk and a bartender had lead him out the back to play with his dog’s puppies so he wouldn’t see when the law had shown up and thrown his father out.

Arthur didn’t know real kindness again until he was fifteen. Sure, there had been people who tossed a dollar his way or vendors who turned a blind eye when he swiped from their stalls, but it wasn’t the same as this.

He’s taller than he had been when he was eleven though still just as thin and just as frail. Except unlike then he was now more wild. He had to be. As he grew older he was more competition for the others he shared the streets with. The other kids weren’t really friends with him, they weren’t better than the skinny mutts that slept with them at night the way they fought over food and money, the older ones robbing each other blind if they had to. It was like when he turned thirteen the unspoken rule about not going after kids that young was off. So Arthur had learned how to fight, how to kick hard, how to throw a punch that counted, and how to wiggle free of the tight holds of lawmen who tried to intervene.

He’d begun to give up kindness when a sheriff promises to trial him the same as an adult when he’s cut loose from jail after one too many times. He stops trusting anyone afterward and it causes him to build up enough of a tough skin that he constantly watches his back, dark circles appearing under his eyes from light sleep from being afraid he’d be caught when he slept. He doesn’t believe in anything by then. But there’s a man and his parter in fancy clothes who won’t leave him alone until he decides to take the offer and travel with them. Even if it takes months until their kindness sets in and he realizes he can finally sleep without fear. It’s for the first time he’s not so concerned with being a man until he really is of the standard age. All because of Dutch van der Linde and Hosea Matthews make him feel safe for the first time since his mother died.

Arthur hadn’t been shown much kindness as a child and he’s reminded of that whenever he walks the streets of Saint Denis. Even if the city is much bigger than the town he’d fought to survive in, it’s a painful reminder all the same. And no matter how annoying the city’s brats are, they too serve as a reminder of where he came from. He sees them and he knows the fear that hides under the tough exterior they put up, knows that despite their height and scowling faces that they’re still scared children underneath, fighting for their lives at too young and barely making it. They may leer at him from the safety of their ally ways but as he returns the teasing with a harmless one of his own, he drops a few dollars and moves on down the street as if nothing happened. He won’t even look back to make sure they’ve gotten it, knowing that the kind of pride they hold at that age doesn’t respond well to pity. But he doesn’t have to. He knows they pick it up after he leaves when there’s more of them huddled together, young ones peaking at him expectantly with big puppy dog eyes from where they hide behind the taller ones. It’s the only time it’s not hard for him to let go of some money, even if he knows if Dutch ever found out he’d lecture him on how they need it to get out of the country and yet there he was pissing it away on street rats. Except he wasn’t, and Dutch would never know. They’d lived their lives, had grand adventures for decades, these children still had futures. Arthur would never tell anyone but he knew the fear of an orphan left to the streets and he wanted for as many of them as possible to live to be able to see as many sunrises as possible.

- - -

wrote this last night, left it in the drafts, it is now the next afternoon and idk if i really like it that much but im just gonna post it anyway. also- kinda went rogue from my original concept in the story i linked above but really if i didn’t i would have ended up with the same idea just longer and more in depth and i would have had to go back and add it in somehow. or i would have ended up rewriting it because in that story arthur does move around as opposed to this where he doesn’t.

oh well- here it is anyway.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #fanfic #sorta

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angst-fairygodmother · 4 years

Note

Okay I’m currently moving and going through old trinkets and stuff to see what to get rid of and I just now really would love a Ben Hargreeves x reader fic super fluffy going through old things of yours or his and just generally being super cute 😭 ily!

A/N: So this is a Ben didn’t die AU because that was the only way I could think of for “cute” not “sad.” Also, as someone who just moved herself, good luck on your move darling, may it be as smooth and frustration free as possible. I hope you enjoy it! :) Word Count: 1702 Content Warnings: Major cheese-factor? But other than that nothing

“I’m glad we decided to get a place together,” you said, leaning against Ben’s shoulder, looking around your empty apartment.

Yours, the two of you. When you had started discussing moving in with one another, maybe a year into your relationship, you considered just adding him onto your lease, which still had several months left on it (he did not consider asking you to move in with him, because he’d been living with Vanya, and Klaus when he showed up and couldn’t wait to get out). But eventually, you two had settled on starting fresh, somewhere you had picked out together, a place for both of you to build your lives together. It had been a challenge at first, but in the end, you knew it would be worth the effort to create a home together instead of merely adopting one of you into the other’s preexistent reality.

“Me too,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple and smiling. “And I’ll be even more glad once we get some stuff in here.”

“Y/N, what about these?” Ben called to you, pulling out a battered black shoebox from the back of your closet. “You didn’t put this pair with the rest of your shoes?”

Confused what he was talking about, you set aside the plates you had been wrapping in newspaper and made your way to the bedroom.

“What are you talking ab—oh…” your eyes fell on the box in question and you felt a hot blush creep across your face and down your neck. “That’s um…”

Ben’s confusion at your discomfort only grew when the box rattled slightly, producing sounds of rustling paper rather than shoes.

“You can just ignore that. It’s just some old…I don’t even know why I kept…” you sighed in defeat as his curiosity got the better of him and he opened the box.

The box, which had laid buried in your closet for long that you’d nearly forgotten about it, was full of old newspaper and magazine clippings about the Umbrella Academy in their hay-day.

“I, uh, I can explain that?”

Ben laughed, grin wide and surprisingly nonjudgmental as he picked up the faded pages in gentle fingers, particularly when he came across one of a teen magazine quiz which said your soulmate was Diego and you had drawn frowning faces around it and marked it ‘WRONG’ in blue sharpie.

“Aw, babe, I had no idea you were such a fan,” he teased. “My brother will be so sad I stole his soulmate.”

“Yeah, I mean I guess I was into the whole Umbrella Academy thing as a kid…lots of people were…” you shrugged, hoping that your nonchalance would keep him from pressing further. “It’s nothing to make a big deal of.”

“Aw, hey, Y/N, I’m not trying to embarrass you,” he said, setting the box aside to come over and rest his hands on your shoulders. “I think it’s cute.”

You shoved his chest lightly, hearing the laughter in his voice. “Shut up.”

All of your things finally packed, you and Ben made your way to the apartment he shared with his siblings, which they had cleared out of for the day so you could have more space to work.

“Hey Ben,” you said, gesturing to an old-fashioned hatbox on one of his shelves. “I didn’t know you were a hat guy?”

You wished you could reach the box yourself so you could take him down and tease him properly for the contents the way he had had for your shoebox. Instead, you had to wait for him to come and be tall for you.

“Oh that. I took the box from the Academy. Although I think the hat was as likely to have been Pogo’s as it was Dad’s,” he explained.

“So if it’s not a hat, what’s in there?” you asked, practically vibrating with curiosity.

The box tucked under one arm, he pulled you closer with the other into a hug and pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek, before moving to sit in on the corner of his bed (piled high with the books which had been hiding this mystery box and which you were supposed to be packing at the moment), motioning for you to join him. Eagerly, you bounced across the small room to flop next to him on the floor, making him laugh as you nearly collapsed into his lap and he had to quickly lift the box above his head to keep you from crushing it.

“Well, it’s not quite the same as yours, but it turns out we were both hanging onto some things,” he explained almost shyly, carefully wiggling off the snug lid of the box.

“Oh really?” you couldn’t help the smirk that crept across your face.

The first thing he pulled out was a photobooth filmstrip. In the four little boxes were your smiling faces, your silly faces, and one where you had leaned over and kissed him, his eyes wide with shock, all in sepia, perfect moments frozen in time.

“That was our first date,” you said with surprise. “Our first official one anyway, unless you count you refusing to let go of my hand until you had escorted me safely out of the building when those lunatics decided a coffee shop was the best place to hold up for quick cash.”

“Well I couldn’t let them catch wind of priceless treasure that slipped through their fingers, and my siblings had everything under control.”

You rolled your eyes at his corniness, leaning your chin on his knee to see what else was in the box. It was full to the brim, practically overflowing with little bits of memorabilia from your time together: a newspaper clipping about the day you met, ticket stubs for concerts and movies, pictures you had taken together or of each other with his polaroid camera, love letters you’d sent each other and notes you’d left when one of you had to leave before the other woke or had something important coming up that you might need a little extra encouragement for. It was like your whole lives together so far were in that hat box and you felt your eyes welling up at the thought. It was so much better than your embarrassing childhood crush.

“You know, I thought you had only agreed to go to that carnival with me because you felt like you owed me for saving you or something,” he added softly as he leafed through.

You rolled your head to one side, cheek against his leg, so you could look up at him, sensing the insecurity in his voice.

“Ben, baby…” you sighed.

Even now, after all of this time, he still seemed to think that part of you was only there out of pity, seemed to expect you to flinch away in horror at his abilities. You knew that it had nothing to do with you and everything to do with the way he and his siblings were raised and exploited by Reginald Hargreeves, but still your heart ached every time you sensed him withdrawing into those dark places.

“I know, Y/N, you don’t have to say it,” he said, guessing at how your sentence was going to finish based on your repeated past conversations about it.

“I don’t think you do,” you lifted your head up, sitting back to better look him in the eye. “I was stunned that you even noticed me let alone asked me out, because you are incredible. And I don’t just mean the superhero thing, although that is pretty sweet,” you face scrunched up and you grinned at him before sobering. “If I was only in it for pity or for fame or because I owed you, I would have bailed a long time ago, not be getting an apartment with you. You’re stuck with me. Because I love you Ben Hargreeves.”

He set the box in his hands aside, pulling you close so that he could kiss you, tender and sweet and so rawly, desperately full of love that it threatened to overwhelm you. You folded your arms over his shoulders drawing him in even more. When you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, gently carding your fingers through his hair as he nuzzled his nose against yours.

“We should really get back to packing,” you said after sitting like that for a moment, more than a little regretful that you had to break the moment and return you both to reality.

“Wait, there’s one more thing I wanted to show you from the box,” he said sheepishly, pulling out a generic looking crumpled piece of lined paper.

“What’s this?” you asked, reaching for it.

Nervously, he handed it to you and you began to read. Almost immediately, your hand came up to cover your mouth as tears welled up in them. This wasn’t a letter, so much as the draft of a speech with words and lines and entire paragraphs crossed out, some scribbled over completely and others with a single mark through them and new words squeezed into the cramped space above them. Finally, at the bottom, circled in blue ink: Y/N, you’re incredible. Will you go out with me?

“Oh Ben,” you murmured, clutching the paper carefully to your chest, trying your hardest not to cry.

“I was so nervous to ask you out,” he explained, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “And Diego kept giving me shit about how you were way out of my league, which definitely didn’t help. But for some reason you said yes, and I thought I might die, I was so happy.”

“So I was thinking…” you said one night, wrapping your arms around Ben as he stood in the doorway of your new living room.

“Uh-oh,” he laughed, mirroring your hold.

“We have that big open wall-space over the sofa, right?”

He nodded, looking at you, eyebrows knit together in curiosity and confusion.

“We also have two boxes of stuff that would make a really nice collage…we could maybe put them there? Sort of a wall of memories?”

His eyes sparkled as he turned to you fully. “I love it.”

#listen with me you get angst or you get sap #I hope this meets what you were looking for #Not-dead Ben is hard to write for...#Ben Hargreeves x reader #The Umbrella Academy fic

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falsegoodnight · 4 years

Text

✰ say a little prayer: an outtake ✰

*a harry-centric drabble from sleeping on our problems taking place the five days after louis told harry about the baby.

(obviously: major spoilers from the fic!

a birthday present for @louislyrics <3 thank you for asking the question that sparked this!

The door shuts behind Louis with a dull thud, silence echoing as Harry stares at the wood, mouth still dropped open with his protest lingering on his lips.

A wave of nausea rises in him, strengthened only by his disbelief, confusion, and slowly festering panic.

Pregnant. Louis is pregnant.

With his baby.

The panic grows, tightening in his chest and filling his lungs. He exhales jaggedly, hands shaking as he sits down on his bed stiffly and places them on his knees, bracing himself.

He’s twenty. He’s twenty years old and he’s gone and knocked up an omega. He’s just recently been picked as captain. The season is picking up soon and he’s got classes and responsibilities and he’s knocked up an omega.

A product of him and Louis has been planted in Louis’ stomach and will grow into a living breathing human after just nine and a half months. The white gap on his wall between his window and a poster sears into his burning eyes as he stares blankly.

He doesn’t realize someone has entered his room until a hand lands on his shoulder, jerking him out of his tense actions. Liam’s face slowly comes into view when he glances down, a worried furrow between his brow.

His mouth is open too, closing and widening as if pronouncing syllables and words, trying to communicate - except Harry can hardly hear a word through the thundering of his heart, deafening in his ears and making his vision go blurry.

“Harry,” Liam says, maybe for the fifth or dozenth time, “Harry, are you okay?”

Opening his mouth, he is unable to respond. Is he okay? Is he okay after finding out he’s going to be a father when he’s only twenty years old?

And it’s like - Harry has always known he wants children, wants to find a nice omega and settle down and put a baby or a bunch of babies in them. He wants to have a family. He gets off on the idea, for fuck’s sake. But it’s different having it sprung on him so suddenly. It’s different because he’s not ready. Not even close.

He’s Captain for fuck’s sake. He’s got a year to play well and play hard to up his chances of being drafted to a good team in the summer. Not to mention, an entire team not to let down. Hockey is his life - it’s been his life since he first got onto the ice at eight years old and fuck, he wants it to continue being his life for a long time.

“H, you’re worrying me, what’s wrong?” Liam continues, sounding completely bewildered. Harry can’t blame him. He’s Harry - always cool headed, calm, and driven. Not much rattles him, though it’s safe to say this definitely has.

“Liam,” he says slowly, voice hoarse. He forces himself to make eye contact with the fellow alpha, taking a deep shuddery breath. “Liam, I’m going to be a dad.”

He watches as the words process and Liam’s face morphs into one of disbelief. He watches as Liam looks at him, face pale once he sees the tears in Harry’s eyes and the raw honesty on his face. He watches as he realizes it’s the truth.

Fumbling for words, Liam sits down on the bed beside him. “Um,” he starts, giving Harry an anxious look.

Shaking his head, Harry explains properly. He reminds Liam about Louis, the omega he hooked up with at their end-of-summer party and who helped him with his rut. He tells him that Louis wants to keep the baby. “I mean, s’his body, his choice, of course,” he says panickedly. “But he also wants to know if I want to be involved and-” He cuts off, unable to continue.

Liam is silent for a bit. “What’re you going to do?” he asks eventually, voice soft and gentle.

It’s still enough for Harry to break. Suddenly he’s crying into his hands, shaking because he has no fucking idea what he’s going to do. He’s twenty - he’s twenty years old and he has no fucking idea what he’s doing.

He thinks of Louis. Sweet and beautiful Louis who’s caught his eye more than any omega he’s ever met, who his inner alpha feels an inexplicable pull towards, against his mind’s wishes. If he hadn’t been so dedicated to hockey, he wonders how things might have been between them. If this would be playing out a little differently.

Most of all he wonders how Louis isn’t in pieces like him. He’s the same age as Harry and yet he was so sure - so certain of this new permanent fixture in his life.

Even when he left, face crumpled and close to tears much to the torment of his inner alpha, there was no trace of regret or doubt in his face. He wants to keep the baby. He’s okay with being a mother and raising a child.

Meanwhile Harry feels like he’s going to puke. He keeps crying, letting Liam awkwardly pat his back and murmur semi-encouraging words, struggling to handle an emotionally distressed Harry when he’s never even seen him cry before today. But Harry soaks up the little bit of comfort Liam offers, closing his eyes shut and wanting to scream because the ultrasound picture he left on his desk is still branded across his eyelids.

One thing’s for sure, he needs to make a decision here. But first he has to come to terms with it.

Harry wakes up on Sunday morning and almost forgets the revelation of the evening before.

He told Liam to tell their frat brothers he was feeling ill and would be eating in his room. Then he proceeded to have his dinner, which was tasteless and overall unappealing to him, while staring aimlessly at his laptop screen where Criminal Minds was playing. He remembers nothing of the two episodes he watched, putting his laptop on the nightstand and yanking his clothes off so he can sleep about three hours earlier than usual.

Though he forgets, it comes back to him like a knife to the chest when he glances at his desk where the ultrasound is sitting, black and white little blob and all. He sucks in a breath and then exhales through his nose, heading to the door and slamming the door shut behind him.

Liam must have told the others to leave him alone because no one comes up to tell him good morning or complain about current chore assignments. He’s sure he’s radiating frustrated pheromones as he grabs some cereal and an energy drink.

There’s a morning practice in half an hour so Harry brings his breakfast upstairs with him, eating as he gets dressed and grabs his stuff.

He stares at the ultrasound as he gathers his gear, eyes latched onto it even when he’s stuffing everything in his duffel along with his water bottle, before turning his head and looking away. He pushes it all down.

Striving to the door, he hesitates, glancing back at the desk. With an exhausted sigh, he walks back to the desk.

After spending the entire morning avoiding the elephant in the room, it all comes rushing back to him, a heavy weight in his lungs making it hard for him to breathe. But he makes himself look at the paper, lets himself study the small blob in the middle that will be his and Louis’ pup.

His pup. His child.

He wonders what they’d look like. Would they look more like him or Louis? He imagines a baby in his head but its face flashes between Louis’ delicate features and his sharper ones, Louis’ big blue eyes and his green ones, Louis’ soft smile and his own.

“Harry,” Liam says, knocking gently on the door. He’s cautious as he reminds Harry that they have to get to practice.

Harry nods, gnawing on his lip. “I’ll meet you down there,” he murmurs, not moving his eyes from the ultrasound picture. There’s traces of Louis’ scent on it, sweet ripe strawberries. So lovely and intoxicating and so much deeper now. Deeper because of the baby. He glances at Liam who hasn’t left, a concerned frown on his face. “I’m fine,” he swears, voice lowering to a whisper.

Liam dips his head to his chest in acknowledgment and backs out of the room.

Heart fluttering painfully, Harry realizes that he just spent five minutes thinking about his child and not panicking.

Examining the black and white sheet carefully, he folds it gently and tucks it into his jacket pocket. It sits there like a promise through the entire day.

Harry spends the next couple of days going through his normal routines and attending classes and practice completely dazed. He zones out during lectures, mind wandering to heartbeats and tiny limbs. He’s distant with his frat brothers and absent from his friends; ignoring text messages and Snapchats and cutting all interactions with everyone, except Liam, short. His mind is constantly spinning with thoughts of ultrasounds, parenting, and panic.

How is he expected to talk to people normally when a lump the size of a boulder is clawing up his throat and fighting to spill out, his thoughts utterly consumed by something the size of a cherry.

(A size of a cherry. That’s what the internet said when he googled information on babies at 9 weeks in the middle of Music Theory. Itty bitty. Just bigger than the pad of his thumb.)

He’s distracted in practice and everyone notices, including Coach, who pulls him aside during a practice game to tell him off for being sloppy. He’s captain for fuck’s sake and the season is just kicking off. He can’t afford to be so spaced out - he’s lectured on this point over and over, head ducked and shame curling in his stomach.

And yet, he can’t stop himself from pulling the picture out of his pocket during class or practice or in the middle of the night when he wakes up staring at the ceiling, while his insecurities and nerves whirl around him like a never ending nightmare.

The folds grow cracked and worn with the amount of times he opens and refolds the paper; looking, staring, and memorizing the lines of his future pup as his heart beats painfully.

On Wednesday, three days after he found out, he calls his mom.

She answers with a, “Hey, lovey,” like she always does, chipper and happy.

Harry swallows, closing his eyes. When he speaks, his voice shakes. “Mom, I have something to tell you.”

As if sensing the panic in his voice, her response is soft and encouraging. “You can tell me anything, darling.”

“I don’t want you to be disappointed,” he whispers.

“You’ve never disappointed me and you never will,” she says easily, sounding confused and curious.

It doesn’t make him feel any better. His stomach is twisting painfully when he finally works up the courage to blurt it out. “I got someone pregnant.”

His mother’s shock is palpable, bleeding through the phone and seeping into his skin until he’s flinching, the hitch in her breathing almost deafening to his ringing ears.

Before he knows it, his tears are brimming again.

“Mom,” he says desperately. “Say something.”

“Harry,” she says. “Oh my god.”

Needless to say, he starts crying again. The whole story comes tumbling out and his mother is achingly indecipherable, asking him questions about if they used protection (no, but Louis had been on birth control) and how far along Louis is (9 weeks and 4 days as far as Harry knows) and how well they know each other (“Not well at all,” he had been forced to admit).

“Honey,” she starts, voice gentle but firm. “I’m your mother and you know I always want the best for you. But you also know I’ll never bullshit you, which is why I feel comfortable telling you that there’s a right and wrong decision to make here and I swear to God, Harry Edward Styles, that if you choose the wrong path - the coward’s path, I will come up there and -”

“Mom, I’m not abandoning him,” he interrupts, gaping. “What the fuck?”

“I know you’re not,” she scoffs. “I meant if you choose not to have a joint-custody. I know you, darling, and I know how much you’d regret it if you let one of your own flesh and blood slip through your fingers even when you’re as young as you are.”

“I…” He trails off, swallowing. “How am I supposed to raise a child when I want to be in the NHL?”

“How is this omega supposed to carry a child while attending classes and living his own life?” she counters. “I’ll tell you how. You figure it out. You work your ass off and you come up with solutions and you never give up. When it comes to family, you can move mountains if need be.”

Harry exhales, words embedding themselves into his skin and sticking there. He nods even though she can’t see him. She’s right. She’s completely right. It’s been four days and his pup is still just an embryo but he’s already attached. He’s in too deep and there’s no way he can settle for anything less than as much as he can get. “What about weekends?” he suggests.

“Weekends,” Anne repeats. “Is that what you want?”

He takes his time to respond, mulling it over and considering every option. Is it possible for me to do this? he thinks. Is it possible that he can live and breathe hockey and other obligations while still being a father that his pup deserves?

In the end, it’s an easy question to answer.

“Yes,” he says, no signs of hesitance or doubt in his voice. “It’s what I want.”

“I’m glad to hear that, darling. So glad. But I also need you to understand. Being a parent will change your life forever - it’s the most satisfying and fulfilling and beautiful thing, but it’s hard. Looking after another human being is a full-time commitment and I know you want kids, but it’s different when you’re actually having them.”

“I know,” he says. He’ll need to do research and tag along to appointments and be as involved as he can. He’ll need to find time for his pup - make time for them - both before and after they’re born. “I’ll do my best.”

“And I don’t care if you and this omega are nothing but strangers,” she continues fiercely. “That child is half yours and this omega will be carrying it for the both of you these next nine months. You better be there trying to make it even a little bit easier for him every step of the way.”

He sputters. “Of course,” he says, defensive. “I would hope you’d expect better of me than that.”

“And I’d hope I raised you well enough that you’ll treat this omega as good as if he were your own omega and support him as much as possible,” she says.

“You did, I will,” he argues, brows furrowing. He thinks about Louis and how much discomfort, pain, and struggles he’ll have to endure over his pregnancy and how he knows he’ll handle it brilliantly. Because Louis is smart and determined and he’s going to be a brilliant mother.

He knows it.

“I love you and I’m proud of you,” his mother says after a beat, voice softening. “And I’ll be here for you whenever you need me, honey. Just a few hours away. For you and Louis.”

It’s the first time she’s said his name out loud and Harry’s heart does a funny thing at the sound. “I love you too,” he says belatedly.

“Robin’s going to be home in a few minutes, so stay on,” she says. “I want you to be the one to tell him the news. You have to tell your sister too, but maybe in a little bit. I don’t want to overwhelm you, darling. But how long do you think is the appropriate time to wait before telling the relatives?”

Harry can’t help but smile as she rambles on but it fades as his earlier worries return. She wants to tell the relatives but Harry’s still scrambling to process, to believe.

“Mom,” he says, voice ragged.

“Yes, lovey?” she asks softly, sensing his distress.

“Do you think I’ll be a good dad?” he breathes, wiping a stray tear with the back of his hand. He hears his mother’s shocked inhale before she’s crying too, telling Harry of course, darling, the best dad in the entire world.

And Harry, through his tears and worries and anguish, believes her. He can feel it in his bones, in his mind, in his heart. He will be. For his pup, he’d be anything.

They stay on the phone for hours.

It’s Thursday afternoon, five days after he found out, and Harry’s staring at the creased and wrinkled ultrasound picture - staring at his future - when he pulls out his phone and writes out a text.

Hey Louis...

this is one of quite a few drabbles i have on a list for already-posted fics and the first one i’ve actually finished (whoops) - hopefully i’ll get to the others too!! :) this was really fun for me to write and i hope it was nice to read :)

thank you @soldouthaz and chelsea for looking this over for me! <33

#sleeping on our problems #drabble #my drabbles #sleeping on our problems outtake #happy birthday morgan!#harry-centric #alpha/beta/omega au #alpha harry #omega louis #college au #scheduled

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ebaeschnbliah · 3 years

Photo

Creator of a legend .....

Suddenly touched by fame - joy and sorrow of an aspiring author

Outtake of NRH Halifax

Last time Dr Watson had visited The Strand, his publisher gave him some useful advice regarding the stories he wanted to write about Sherlock Holmes, the extraordinary detective with whom he shares lodgings at Baker Street 221b (Advice at The Strand).

Dr Watson revised his story .... and it got published.

TBC below the cut (with a lot of pics and all the spoilers) …

Fierce knocking at his door and loud voices interrupt John, while he is drafting another story for The Strand.

His flatmate Sherlock Holmes and his landlady Mrs Hudson demand entry ... rather forcefully. A very angry Sherlock thrusts a newspaper under John’s nose. ‘Was it you? Did you do this? How dare you?’ Sherlock wants to know and without further ado he pushes the puzzled doctor aside and walks up to the window. Mrs Hudson watches but remains alarmingly silent.

Looking for help, John turns to his landlady and wants to know what has happended. ‘You’ve been touched by fame, doctor. Look out of the window’, she tells him calmly .... too calmly for his liking.

As it turns out, a crowd of people has gathered unter the doctor’s window. The moment Sherlock looks out, they start shouting his name enthusiastically. Some of them are waving newspapers in their hands. Outraged Sherlock shouts back at them ‘What do you want? Go away! These are all fantasies, lies! Leave immediately or I’ll call the police! Go away!’ ... without any success.

‘What are you writing, Doctor?!’ Sherlock demands to know furiously as he turns again to his flatmate. ’You can fantasise as much as you want. You can write about how you dissect frogs. But do not suck me and Mrs Hudson into this abomination! Do not, I repeat, do not write the exact address!’

Then, as quick as Sherlock had rushed into John’s room, he’s out of the door again ... the doctor’s boxing gloves tucked under his arm. Before he reaches his own chamber, Sherlock turns on his heels again and calls John a ‘filthy hack writer’.

Desperate John trys to calm the waves somewhat. He turns once more to Mrs Hudson and assures her that he never meant to insult anybody. Not the best idea, as he finds out immediately. ‘Really? Is that why you described me as an ancient granny?’ Mrs Hudson spits at him angrily.

John has barely recovered from his shock before a still fuming Sherlock comes at him again and continues his rant. The doctor has hardly a chance to get a word in and Sherlock doesn’t listen to him anyway. He is convinced that his flatmate needs to be punished.

‘I’m going to teach you a lesson’ Sherlock announces emphatically. John stays calm and tries to withstand that storm of anger. Only when Sherlock hints at a payment of ‘thirty in silver’ and calls John’s pseudonym ‘foppish’, the doctor's patience comes to an end. Apparently a boxing match can’t be avoided.

(My humble guess .... that ‘foppish’ pseudonym is Arthur Conan Doyle :)))

John has exceptional fighting skills. Compared to him, Sherlock is less than an amateur. One can safely say that the clever detective is quite talent free in all matters of martial arts. But then, Sherlock knows this very well ....

Calmly John puts on the first boxing glove and the next moment he throws it away with a cry of pain. ‘Well? How does it feel?’ Sherlock asks, both pleased and intrigued, while Mrs Hudson starts screeming in horror. ‘That’s exactly how Mrs Hudson and I feel right now!’, he adds with satisfaction. John is at a loss for words and examines his tormented hand.

Sherlock carefully gathers his eight legged pet animal and vanishes inside his room ... once more he calls John’s literary activity ‘an absolute abomination’.

Meanwhile Mrs Hudson has regained her composure, but she’s still a far way from being pacified, as Dr Watson soon learns. ‘You paid for the flat until the end of this month. So you’ll have plenty of time to find yourself new lodgings.’ she tells John and rushes downstairs without a further word.

With a deep sigh of frustration John returns to his own room. He takes the newspaper with his ‘offending’ story with him. After risking a cautious look out of the window, John sits down and starts reading ...

The satisfied look on his face seems to indicate that Dr Watson ... alias ACD ... is very pleased with his first published story .... ‘A Study in Scarlet’.

The atmosphere of piece and quiet doesn’t last long though before Sherlock calls for his flatmate in a loud voice again. Stay or go .... that’s the question.

Eventually John decides to follow Sherlock’s call. He opens the door to his flatmate’s room consciously .... and is immediately summoned for a new intriguing case. Sherlock’s rage and anger have dissolved into nothingness.

But this aren’t the only ripples John’s newly published story causes. While Sherlock works on the case and eagerly searches a dark tunnel for possible traces, Inspector Lestrade uses the time to exchange some words with Dr Watson. It becomes a somewhat one-sided conversation .....

‘Wherever you go, poets are everywhere .....’, Lestrade utters cryptically. John has no idea what the Inspector is driving at. Not yet ... but he feels a bit uneasy .... watching Lestrade fingering his gun in thoughts.

'It’s just me going to work and I don’t write any poems there’, the Inspector continues. And John’s uneasiness increases when Lestrade wants to know how much a writer gets payed for a line.

Finally the Inspector comes to the point: ‘By the way. Why don’t you write about us? About us simple folk, who guard your peace every day? It’s true, we’re not angles, we’re the same common people who, sadly have to do with criminals, with murderers and with offenders. And there you are, writing some filth about us. For ten pence ...’

Thankfully John is spared the answer because by now Sherlock has finshed his investigations inside the tunnel and interrupts Lestrade’s outpourings. A change of location is necessary.

But John is not yet off Lestrade’s hook. At the next best opportunity the Inspector grills the doctor a little bit more.

John tries to enjoy his meal while Sherlock is experimenting and Lestrade continues reading the doctor’s first published story. “Across this bare space there was scrawled in blood-red letters a single word - RACHE” .... ‘You sure can exaggerate’, comments the Inspector. And later he asks sceptically: ‘The murderers are masons?’ John is still at a loss for words.

Luckily the trio has to change the location again. Then the case reaches its peak and there is no time for expressing literary opinions anymore.

The next day comes. The case is solved. Inspector Lestrade thanks Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson for their commitment. He also adds a stern warning - mainly directed at John - if anything regarding that case should find its way to the newspapers.

Inspector Lestrade is in a hurry then, because he has to welcome an apparently special and rather distinctive guest at the Yard. A tall, lean man steps out of a carriage. He wears an Inverness Cape and a deerstalker cap and he smokes a pipe while greeting the Inspector gravely.

Watching the scene, Sherlock has a sudden and quite unexpected proposal for his flatmate. ‘In your stories, John, if you still plan on writing them ... describe me as him.’

John clearly is very pleasantly surprised. Who would have predicted such an outcome after Sherlock’s fit of rage only a short time ago. John has already ideas .....

And he really can call himself a very lucky man, because Mrs Hudson’s wrath has subsides as well by now. :)

HALIFAX part one part two

A big thank you to @spiritcc and everyone who made it possible to watch and understand this wonderful Sherlock Holmes adaptation.

Links to watch the series can be found HERE

January, 2021

#new russian holmes #nrh #halifax #episode six #creater of a legend #dr watson #suddenly touched by fame

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nikibogwater · 4 years

Text

A Shot in the Dark: Chapter 3 (Author’s Commentary)

(Read the fic here)

General Notes:

The final chapter! I don’t have too many general notes for this one (though the passage-specific notes below the cut stretch on for miles--there was just a lot going on in this chapter lol). But I will say that this is my favorite chapter of the three. It’s what the previous two have been building up to, and it really is the “heart” of the story, so to speak. That, and I finally got to make Glitter Wings Nari canon to The Immortal Bonds! (picture below the cut) I genuinely teared up a little bit while writing a couple of these scenes. I don’t know if that means they are very good, or that I was just absolutely exhausted after cranking out the first two chapters, but maybe you can be the judge. Friendly reminder to go listen to the song “Protector” by City Wolf if you are so inclined. It was a huge part of what inspired this story, and now that all three parts are published, I feel like it perfectly captures the theme and feel of A Shot in the Dark as a whole.

Passage-Specific Notes:

“...Please, Nari, I would not be doing my duty as Douxie’s...as your friend if I let you run thoughtlessly into this kind of danger.”

Another small line of dialogue that means a lot to me. I didn’t see Archie as making the instant connection with Nari that Douxie did. I think it took him a while to see her as anything more than “Douxie’s Ward.” He was always kind to her and took care of her, but I think it took him until now to realize that he had grown to really love her as part of the family. So the fact that he corrects himself here reflects that realization. I think under normal circumstances, the moment Archie finds out Douxie is in trouble/hurting, he would dive headfirst into hell without a second thought in order to help his boy. But because Nari is now also under his protection--and more importantly, now that she also has a special place in his heart--Archie has to force himself to slow down and come up with a plan that will keep BOTH of his kids safe.

The phone rang once--twice--six times. Then it went to voicemail.

Nari lowered it with a look of pure dejection as Claire’s pre-recorded voice cheerfully told them to leave their message after the beep.

I felt like calling Claire for backup was the most sensible thing they could do in this situation--but I also needed Nari and Archie to take on Project Rescue Douxie by themselves, in order to reinforce the family bond these three have. The moment when they all reunite at the end wouldn’t have had the emotional impact I was angling for if there had been others present. So I had to pull a tiny plot contrivance and make Claire unavailable. I didn’t feel the need to explain why she doesn’t answer her phone (people miss calls all the time) but my personal theory was that she was taking a nice relaxing shower and couldn’t pick up the phone. (look, I need SOMEBODY in this story to be having a nice time lol).

“By Ambrosia’s Gleam...” Archie breathed. A pair of dazzlingly beautiful wings reflected every light of the city back at him as Nari folded and unfolded them experimentally. They were unlike anything the cat had ever seen in his long life, vibrantly colored with rich shades of green and gold, glittering like morning dew, yet delicate as a newly budding flower.

Anybody remember last week, when I said the Most Self-Indulgent part was yet to come? This was it lol. I don’t remember when I started imagining Nari with sparkly butterfly wings, but back in early October, I drew this:

and I have been absolutely enamored with the idea ever since (but also it was a convenient way to get them to the warehouse without having to go through the ordeal of walking/taking a taxi/busting out the flying boat). So yeah. Nari’s Glitter Wings are canon to The Immortal Bonds series now. I have spoken.

He had no idea how long he had been enduring Rivan’s torture. It may have only been a few minutes, or it may have been a few years. Hell, he was getting to the point where it felt like this excruciating ache in his bones had been there his whole life. He tried not to sob as Rivan slowly pulled his magic back to himself, the agony abating for just a short moment of sweet relief. Douxie sucked in gulps of air, desperate to replenish the oxygen that had been ripped from his lungs by his own screaming.

First time really writing whump, so that was...something (I was exhausted after just the one paragraph lol). I tried to keep it as vague as I could because I don’t want anybody coming to my fic expressly for a graphic torture scene and nothing else (I don’t do the hurt-no-comfort thing, and I don’t want anybody to use my fics as such). But putting Douxie through a bit of hell does make the ending SO much sweeter. And if he hadn’t been experiencing pain, Archie and Nari probably would have taken longer to decide to come to his rescue. But there is still a part of me that detests every letter of that paragraph.

The small dragon let out a roar of fury and leapt at Rivan, his form twisting and expanding into that of an enormous black panther. The two crashed together in a flurry of red sparks and tearing claws.

Archie turning into a black panther and going to town on Rivan is also a bit of self-indulgence. I just really love big cats, and black panthers especially are beautiful, mysterious, and powerful creatures that just SCREAM Magic and Otherworldliness to me. (also I really want to draw Panther!Archie now).

He slammed against the concrete with a yowl of pain that tore Douxie’s heart into a thousand pieces, and dropped to the floor, where he lay quivering and heaving.

That line right up there 👆 is the most heart-wrenchingly painful thing I have ever forced myself to write. 😥

Nari grabbed Douxie by the shoulders and pulled him upright. One of her hands reached around him and pressed against his heart, and he felt her aura slam into his. Instinctively, his soul opened, and he let her magic pour into him, filling his veins with the warmth of a hundred suns, wrapping around and tangling with his own magic so tightly that he could barely tell whose was whose. Nari’s voice filled his head, drowning out every sound in his ears, every thought in his mind. My magic is yours. Use it. He threw both of his hands out and felt power unlike anything he had ever known surge into his palms and explode out of his fingertips.

So this ties into a headcanon of mine that, while Nari’s magic isn’t well-suited to direct combat, she is able to augment Douxie’s powers. But this scene is also probably the culmination of every relationship-building moment I have ever written for these two. I established in A Moment to Breathe that to let someone interact with your aura in this way--to basically channel their magic directly into you--requires a great deal of trust. Douxie let Nari heal him in that story, but that was after she had asked permission to pour her magic into him. Here, she doesn’t have time to ask--she just has to go for it, and Douxie’s trust and familiarity with her is so intense at this point, that his response is to immediately surrender completely to her power. Not only that, he is so familiar with her magic, that he is able to use it himself--he combines it with his own power and casts a spell that Nari is likely unable to use herself. I intended this moment to be a representation of the way family relationships can shape and empower you. You carry elements of the people you love with you wherever you go; their influence, their stories, their love for you--it all helps shape you into the person you are. And these things are often so deeply intertwined with your own personality, that it becomes impossible to fully separate them.

They had risked everything--the fate of the world, even--to save him. He should have scolded them. But instead, Douxie suddenly found himself overwhelmed with the ridiculous urge to cry.

This was the reason I wrote Douxie in Distress--and also one of the reasons I wrote A Shot in the Dark at all. I wanted him to experience being stripped of everything that made him powerful--useful-- and then witness his family risking literally everything for him. Not for his powers, not for what he can do for them, but because they love him. This poor, sweet boy gives and gives and gives, and the world has done nothing but take from him, and I have said “ENOUGH.” I wanted the serotonin of seeing him realize that he is valued and cherished for himself, and BY THUNDER I WAS GOING TO GET IT EVEN IF I HAD TO WRITE 9000+ WORDS FOR IT.

She pulled back a moment later, roughly drying her face on her sleeve, and untied the black hoodie around her waist. She draped it around Douxie’s shoulders with her magic, and he sighed contentedly as the warm fabric settled around him. He slipped his arms into the sleeves and closed the garment around himself gratefully, giving Nari a tired, heartfelt smile.

I didn’t realize it when I initially drafted the story, but Douxie’s hoodie is actually a really nice visual representation of how he and Nari pass the role of caretaker/protector back and forth. Douxie is wearing it for the first half of the story, when he is acting as Nari’s guardian/brother. Shortly after he lends it to her though, he’s captured by Rivan, and Nari takes on the role of protector in turn. But yeah, originally it was just “Them trading the hoodie back and forth is pointlessly cute and I wanna do it.” (Poor Archie has to be the Adult 100% of the time. He doesn’t get a break).

Most of Douxie’s mornings began with the harsh, clattering sound of his phone vibrating and whistling next to his ear. But that Sunday morning began with a deliciously warm silence. Douxie’s eyes blinked open slowly, finding sunlight lazily shining through the windows. He was lying on his side, with Archie’s soft, familiar body tucked against his chest. A gentle warmth against his back told Douxie that Nari was curled up beside him, wrapped in her own little cocoon of blankets, her back against his. The ache in his bones was gone. He was nestled safely in the warmth and love of his small family, the world outside and all that occurred within it nothing more than a distant echo.

Wrapping his arms around Archie and pressing his back more firmly against Nari’s, Douxie closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

This final scene wasn’t actually in my original outline--originally, the story ended with the three of them beginning the long trek home together. But I felt that the story needed just a little extra time to savor in the happy ending. And so, it came full circle--ending just like it began, with the dawning of a new morning. I noticed that I spend a lot of time in this story comparing the mornings of different characters/days. I think that might have been a subconscious expression of my belief that every morning is the beginning of a new opportunity--to strengthen bonds, to do good in the world, to just live for another day. Douxie’s Saturday morning started off a little rougher than he wanted--he woke up early and had to rush around to get ready for a long day out on the town. And wouldn’t you know it, his Saturday ended pretty badly too (though I think he’s probably just grateful he got to go home in one piece haha). This Sunday morning plays out in the exact opposite way. It’s quiet, peaceful, unhurried, and full of hope. Douxie’s been through hell and back, but he survived long enough to see another beginning. And I think that’s the beautiful cycle that all human life follows. There’s pain in life, darkness and hopelessness, but if you can hold on, strengthened by the love of the people you hold dear, you will always find a new beginning waiting for you on the other side of the valley.

...And that’s it. Thank you to everyone for reading my work. Seeing everyone who enjoyed it, hearing from you guys in the comments, knowing that I was able to give someone a good story--it really does mean the world to me. So again, thanks for joining me, and I hope our paths cross again soon. 🤗✨

#fanfiction #author's commentary #the magical siblings #and their therapy cat #a shot in the dark #thanks for reading <3

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thestarwrites · 4 years

Text

All Right, All Might: Ch. 2

Word Count: 2,176

Rating: PG (mention of something filthy)

Painting: Toshinori Yagi X FemOC

The UA Guidance Counselor, a quirk user with Pathokenesis, is shocked to find out her personal hero All Might is coming to be a teacher. The road they walk as a parallel starts to merge and there’s no telling what could happen.

CHAPTER TWO: A PHONE CALL IS HERE!

Walking into the school the next morning a familiar slinky figure came up beside Keri, “So, I heard from Nezu that you ran into Toshinori Yagi yesterday afternoon…”

Keri’s chest momentarily tightened and she cleared her throat, “Yeah, he thought my office was the principals is all.” Her grip on her backpack tightened, “Anyways, I’m supposed to teach the kids about bullying at a general assembly today while he has a meeting with the teachers—“

“Hold on Patho- that’s not the only thing I heard.”

“What… do you mean?” She said with honest confusion.

Grinning she ran her hand on Patho’s shoulders, “I heard you got his phone number.”

Visibly prickling she looked up at her, “What is the principal the biggest gossip in the world?!”

Laughing, Midnight winked, “No- he didnt tell me anything other than he was in your office, but I figured I’d see if I could weasel anything out of you… so— have you guys sexted?”

“NO!” Keri shouted- Aizawa calling across the hall for her to shut up so he could sleep in peace. Shrinking she sighed, “I haven’t texted him yet to let him have my number. Thats so weird, right? To have All Might’s telephone number.”

“Oh honey, we all have his number. Pro heroes need to be able to get in touch with one another!”

Her cheeks flushed harder, “Yeah…. That makes sense.”

“Poor little Patho… so lovesick.”

“Oh my god Nemuri, I’m going to die because of you one of these days.”

She laughed, before purring, “Text him.” With a wave of her arm she passed into the teachers office as Keri continued toward the administration floor. Running her hand in her hair she pulled out her phone, looking at the entry of his contact she had made - immediately after receiving his number- it was his name; Toshinori, to keep incognito to anyone who might steal her phone. Though she did put a star next to it. All Might. Her childhood hero. On her phone. Making a few drafts of a text message, she decided against it, tucking the phone away to prepare for some early morning counseling, and then the assembly.

——————

Around eleven in the morning, Toshinori stood in Nezu’s office, already in his weakened form. The principal took a sip of his tea and watched with amusement as the number-one-hero squirmed uncomfortably in the small chair, “So… how does it feel to be back?”

“Weird,” He confessed, taking a deep breath, “So much has changed - but, so much is the same… I’m the most different I guess.”

Nezu chuckled and sighed, pushing a mug of tea toward All Might, “You already know a lot of the teachers and staff here from Hero work correct? It’s mainly just letting them in on how they can help you to hide your secret?”

Running his deft fingers on the side of the cup, he nodded, “Yeah, the only one I didn’t know too well was your Guidance Councilor - but I already met her yesterday.”

“Oh?” He smiled, “What do you think of her?”

Toshinori nodded a few times, “I don’t think she likes me.” Nezu began to laugh, and just when Toshi thought he would stop laughing, he continued to laugh, “Sir, that’s not… a joke.”

“Oh please, All Might, everyone likes you. I meant what did you think of her as our guidance counselor! I think you’ve worked with her before. — By the way, why do you think she doesn’t like you?”

He cracked his neck briefly, “Oh— well she’s a great support hero. She’s very sincere, and her ability to put people at ease probably makes her really excel at helping the students and teachers here…” He paused, “I gave her my phone number, told her to text me so I’d have hers… she hasn’t.”

Chuckling again, Nazo sipped his tea, “Well, she is your junior, and you are the number one hero in Japan. Honestly, I’m surprised she didn’t die of shock.”

“I guess… that’s fair,” All might said softly.

“I mean she’s in her office preparing for the General Assembly now I’m sure. You could go speak with her if you wish- you have some time.”

He blinked and smiled, “Yeah. That sounds nice.”

“Off you go then, be back in an hour please!”

A cloud of smoke appeared as she shining symbol of peace stood there all big and bulky, “YES SIR.” Clearing his throat he looked both ways out of Nezu’s office before starting to walk down the hallway.

“Hi there, Toshi.” The voice of midnight came purring behind him. “AH- NEMURI — DIDN’T SEE YOU THERE.”

The woman laughed gently, “Where are you off to? I was just coming to see if you had arrived yet, and I find you leaving?”

“OH I… WAS GOING TO VISIT THE GUIDANCE OFFICE.” He smiled.

Midnight smirked devilishly, “Going to see you girlfriend?”

“GIRLFR— WHAT?” He started to visibly sweat, “I BARELY KNOW HER — NEZU RECOMMENDED I GO HAVE A CHAT — UH— ABOUT THE ASSEMBLY! IN CASE SHE NEEDED ANY POINTERS!”

“Of course he did.” She smirked, “Well she’s sweet on you, you know.”

He coughed up blood then, taken off guard so fast, covering his mouth quick with his hand he grunted, “SHE’S A YOUNG WOMAN AND I WOULD NEVER THINK TO— TO — I GOTTA GO. I WILL SEE YOU AT THE LUNCH MEETING, NEMURI.”

Midnight cackled to herself as he high tailed it toward your office, “This is delicious.”

Coming in he pushed his back against the door as he panted, slowly turning into his small-might form. The hand over his mouth was dripping blood.

Keri turned to see who came in and she gasped, “Toshi!” She jumped up and grabbed her handkerchief, rushing over to him, “Oh my gosh are you alright? Did something happen?” She placed a warm hand on his small bicep, her quirk already pumping out calming energy on instinct.

He smiled and took the handkerchief, “You really have a great quirk.”

Her cheeks reddened and she cleared her throat, “I’ll go get a wet washcloth okay? Come and sit down — do you want anything to drink? Water? Tea?”

All Might moved to pull the privacy shade down over the glass in the door, so no kids saw him like this, and then he walked toward her lounge, “Water would be nice, thanks.”

After a few minutes she came back with a glass of water and a warm washcloth, “Are you sure you’re alright? That was a lot of blood.”

“I’m used to it,” He smiled sadly, cleaning himself up, “Thank you… no one usually is this kind to me.”

“Well I don’t like that… that you’re used to coughing up blood.”

Taking a deep breath he wiped off his lips and chin with the washcloth, his eyes moving to the ruined cloth over his knee, “I’ve ruined your handkerchief,” he frowned at the flowery handkerchief with a K on the corner.

“Oh please, Toshinori… you are more important than a handkerchief.” Something about that sentiment made him blush, and Keri smiled, “What were you running from when you came in here?”

He cleared his throat, swallowing some water, “Nemuri.”

She laughed, “I understand… I did that this morning. She’s nice but… gosh is she sexual.”

“Yeah… sexual.” He repeated, cheeks reddening as he thought about what she said —She’s sweet on you, you know — maybe as All Might, but never as weak Toshinori Yagi, “Hey— can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” She shrugged, fixing her tea how she liked it.

“How come you… didn’t text me?”

Her cheeks flushed bright red and she almost dropped the sugar bowl, “Oh— oh uhm, just… I couldn’t think of what to say.”

His eyebrows knitted, “Well… you could just… quickly call right now so I can have your number?”

Keri nodded, “S-sure.” Taking out her phone she dialed Toshinori ——

A PHONE CALL IS HERE!!

A PHONE CALL IS HE—

“Ack— I thought I silenced that.” All Might turned the volume off. After a few seconds, the guidance counselor burst out laughing, “Uh- what’s so funny, Patho?”

“Oh my god! You’re your own ringtone!!”

He flushed red, “Is… that…. bad?”

“No! Oh gosh that’s so cute! Of course you have you as your ringtone!”

Cute? Toshinori smiled a little, “Yeah… I guess I should change it by now but—“

“Oh no— no please don’t change it.” She smiled, calming down and catching her breath she leaned her chin on her palm, “You’re so adorable, Toshinori.”

“That’s not an adjective I’ve been called in this form before,” He smiled nervously.

Knitting her eyebrows together again she frowned, “Thats ridiculous.”

“What?”

“You’re All Might… everything about you is adorable.” She admitted softly, “You’re still Toshinori, no matter if you’re all muscles or small muscles… you can’t let your self worth hinge on what other people think of you, although I can’t imagine how hard that must be for you. You’ve been in the public eye for almost thirty years.”

“Yeah… I know I’m old.”

Sighing she tilted her head, “Have you ever considered seeing a therapist, Toshi?”

“Well… no… it hasn’t ever crossed my mind.”

Moving a little closer to him, she sandwiched the hand not holding the bloody cloth with her own, “You do so much for everyone. All Might is infallible- right? The symbol of peace, the hero of heroes. Everyone loves you — but what about Toshinori Yagi? As amazing as you are, you’re only a man.”

All Might looked down at their hands and he felt… tears pooling in his eyes.

Keri continued, comforting touches stroking over his hand, “You’re a man with a huge burden on his shoulders, you don’t want to let everyone down, and now you’re hurt, and you’re more afraid of letting everyone down — am I right?”

He let his head hang and he let the cloth drop, his other hand coming a top hers, “More than you could ever know…” How her quirk made him feel - safe, warm, comforted - he wanted to melt into her, cry, be vulnerable. Clearing his throat, “You’re certainly a great therapist… These future heroes are lucky…”

“Toshi…”

“Mmm?”

She smirked, “You’re avoiding.”

He met her eyes and smiled, “Would you… counsel me? This fall when I start working here?”

“Well, you have my number right? Any time this summer you need to talk, I’ll be here for you.”

“But— that’s your free time—“

“You’re All Might. You are the greatest hero in the world… I will make any time for you, as you have devoted all your time to us.”

His eyes finally gave in and misted over, his winning smile returned as a tear slid down his cheek, “You are the kindest person I have ever met, Patho… thank you.”

She gently rubbed his hand, she was shocked the pro hero was crying, although she would never let him know it. That wouldn’t be productive as someone who is there to counsel and comfort, “It’s going to be all right, All Might….”

“And- if there’s anything I can do for you, if there’s any time you need someone to listen — I’m here too, okay? Two way street.” He nodded.

“Does this make us friends?” She chuckled gently, the clock chimed twelve.

He puffed into his hero form, and beamed, still holding her hands, “OF COURSE WE’RE FRIENDS!”

She laughed and pulled back to stand, he followed suit, “You know… you’re the tallest person I’ve ever seen in either form…” “WELL… I HAVE GOOD GENES I GUESS.” He laughed.

Keri chuckled and sighed, “I saw you in public once you know, when I was in high school.” He turned, looking a little more somber, “I went to Ketsubutsu Academy, and when I was seventeen, they had a reveal for you to unveil your bronze age costume. I felt so absolutely in awe to be so close to you.”

Toshinori smiled more softly, “How do you feel now?” It wasn’t really what he meant to ask, but it just had come out.

Looking up at him she smiled, “I don’t know… Calm.”

“Hm…”

Reaching out she gently rubbed his back, “Come on now, my new found friend, you have to go face the music with the other teachers, and I have to tell the kids about the horrors of bullying.” Turning to go collect the flash drive for her power point, he called out.

“Keri?”

She turned and smiled, “Hm?”

“Would you go to dinner with me tonight? I mean — if you don’t mind me going in my weaker form.”

Smiling she nodded, “I’d love to — and stop differentiating between your two forms, I’m happy to be with you any way you happen to show up, hm?”

“Okay— I’ll try!” He chuckled, “TEXT ME YOUR ADDRESS I WILL PICK YOU UP AT EIGHT.”

And with that, he once again — dramatically — exited the office. Keri chuckled, somehow, it didn’t seem so strange anymore. Sure, he was still her hero but… something had shifted in a far away place.

#toshinori x oc #toshinori yagi #all might x oc #all might #my hero academia fanfiction

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theatresweetheart · 5 years

Text

Broken Words

Fandom(s): Sanders Sides, G/t

Summary: Rescuing humans has never been too difficult for Roman. However, the little one currently glaring at him from its enclosure has proven to be a very different case.

Warnings: Selective mutism, fear, crying, panic attack, feelings of helplessness, feelings of guilt, character being treated like an animal, swearing, self deprecation, mention of Deceit (Dorian), Remus is mentioned but not present. (If I missed any, please let me know!)

Pairings: Platonic Prinxiety, incredibly brief mentions of Royality/Logicality

Word Count: 5925 words

A/n: I haven’t had a whole lot of time to get any writing done, since it’s nearing the end of the semester but I wanted to get something posted at least! So I found this in my drafts and finally decided to finish it. Enjoy!

Taglist: @isle-of-gold @sandersships @anonymous-bean

+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

The feeling of sharp eyes digging into the back of his head was something Roman was becoming unfortunately familiar with.

He could already tell that the gaze was cold and angry.

Even as he was just trying to get some work done, the gaze was unrelenting. Probably unwavering, as it always was even when he was looking at the little creature head on. It—he?—was fearful of him, Roman knew that as he had seen the little one flinch away from him or wince if he moved too fast, but there was also that hateful resilience.

The constant staring with that resolute sneer on his features to match.

To be honest, he didn’t entirely understand why the little one was so frustrated all the time. Roman liked to think he was a good caretaker; making sure the creature was fed, hydrated and cared for. That and its enclosure was comfortable. The cage itself was full of lavish luxury. He wanted it to feel less like a cage and more like a safe space. A place where it could relax from its tense position and really take in the best of its life.

And then there was the fact that he certainly wasn’t cruel.

It was almost upsetting, the lack of trust that was on the human’s features every time Roman’s eyes passed over him. Even if he was distracted with something else.

The little one would end up flinching more often than not, even if it was with a mundane action of Roman’s like turning the light on the desk off, or reaching a bit too close to the enclosure for its comfort apparently. It had boundaries that Roman had no idea about because it wouldn’t communicate them with him.

The human seemed to prefer staying curled into its corner of the cage, knees tucked up into its chest as it eyed Roman’s every move—no matter how harmless or thoughtless—as if it was waiting for him to do something. Something that would give the little creature an actual reason to hate him, instead of just waiting for something that was never going to come.

It was a long process, trying to make any ground with the tiny being. Its dark eyes were constantly alight with worry, anxiety and wariness. It looked as if the human was constantly calculating Roman’s moves, as if it was trying to piece together his ulterior motive.

Which, for the record, he didn’t have one.

Roman was genuine in his care and worry but it obviously wasn’t taken at face value.

To try and alleviate some of its stress, Roman had tried to talking to it. Making light conversation. Telling it about his day, trying to prompt some interesting answers or questions.

Unsurprisingly, those attempts had been met with a stony, grouchy silence.

It had almost led him to believe that the human couldn’t understand him, save that he had been proven wrong by the way it would react to things he said.

They may not have made a lot of conversation, none that actually ended with the human speaking to him, but enough of an understanding that the human had nodded and shaken its head when Roman had asked it things. It had been an accidental discovery in all honesty. He had just been trying to break the awkward silence that accompanied their every interaction and he had asked if the creature actually had a name. (Roman, at the time, had just been using nicknames and such, or trying different names to see if any stuck). After he had asked, the human had nodded sharply.

Of course, he had been startled. The human had finally reacted to him in a way that wasn’t inherently negative. Roman had hoped to try and continue this cooperation by asking if the human would tell him his name, but it had shaken its head and hunkered down into itself. Almost looking more closed off than before even after that silent revelation.

To try and encourage more positive conversation, Roman had tried giving it things. Little toys and gifts that he thought it would have liked—at least to keep it busy or give it something to do when he was away, rather than staring at him all the time.

He had set the toys and such into the cage with the human, only to watch the little creature toss the attempts at peace out through the spaces between the bars.

It was disheartening, Roman would admit. He was trying so hard and the human wanted nothing to do with him.

This specific human had been one Roman had caught himself. Well, perhaps using the term “caught” a bit lighter. It was simply his mission to go through the portal with a troop of others, retrieve the terrified little creatures, rescue them from their hostile land and bring them back into their own world to allow them a second chance at life.

Humans were helpless creatures, barely managing to survive in their own land. Not to mention, they were so incredibly small that it was a wonder they had managed to survive at all.

The human that was currently seated in the corner of the cage had been one of Roman’s more difficult cases when it came to rescuing humans. He had put up quite the fight, managing to duck Roman’s first few attempts to gather him up. The human had even found a way to squeeze himself into an alleyway where Roman’s hands were actually too big to grab him.

It had been a bit startling at first, as he had never had to deal with someone so obstinate. While of a lot of the humans he had helped had originally panicked and tried to escape, none had done so successfully. It was especially stressful because he didn’t want the human to hurt himself in his fear.

Adrenaline was known to wipe out common sense and push the human body into its fight or flight survival instinct.

It didn’t matter what necessarily happened after that, as long as they got out of whatever situation they were in relatively unharmed.

Roman didn’t enjoy terrifying the little creatures but it came with the job; it was just something he would have to live with. While it did make him feel guilty in the moment, he had to remind himself that he was doing it for a good cause. That no matter how terrified the humans were in that instance, they would be far better off in the custody and safety of his own kind. With a race that could actually take care of them properly.

He remembered getting down onto his hands and knees and peering into the little alleyway, noticing that the human had backed itself into the corner; completely rendering itself stuck with no way out.

The wall that had been at the human’s back had been about twice his size with no way to leverage itself and catapult himself over it. The alleyway was too wide for him to balance himself between the walls and climb up. The human really had cornered himself.

They had been at an impasse at that point. For a while Roman had debated whether or not he should try and reach in after it. He ended up not following through, lest he end up hurting the fragile being in the process.

“Life over limb.”‌ He could recall his superior saying. “A‌ human will be far more grateful to be alive and missing a limb, than dead.”

Morbid, but true.

Roman had tried cooing to the little creature, making soft noises in the back of his throat in an attempt to get him to calm down. To come out on his own. Instead, the human had bared its teeth and hissed at him.

Eventually, he had tired of playing this game.

The human had turned around, the tiny hands pressed against the wall trying to feel for a break in the solid stone, to attempt another escape—at least, that’s what Roman assumed it was doing.

(Also, a part of him was mesmerized at seeing such impossibly tiny hands.)

Honing in on that weakness as his chance, as one should never turn their back to their opponent, he had stuck two fingers into the alley and managed to snag the creature by the back of its jacket. He pulled it out kicking and screaming, all while fighting him tooth and nail.

None of the others had ever been so determined, so filled with rage, that they would risk their personal safety. There were a lot of others Roman knew, that wouldn’t have hesitated to the put the human down. It was a common practice, unfortunate as it was, but sometimes it was a necessary course of action. If a human was too dangerous or not behaving safely around itself or others there would be no other choice.

Especially when it came to the fact that this little one had such self-destructive tendencies. Which would then end up hurting himself or the family he went to live with.

The creature had been so desperate to try and escape, he had then attempted to slip out of his jacket altogether.

He was able to slip about half-way out of his jacket before Roman had caught on to exactly what he was doing. At that point, he had brought up his second hand and sealed the human between his two palms to try and minimize the danger it could cause to itself. Self-harm and attempted self-harm seemed to be a reoccurring pattern with this one.

Roman, on the other hand wasn’t too worried about the human trying to get out from there. It was actually physically impossible for the little creature. He had held many humans this way and none of them had been able to budge his fingers, so he really wasn’t too concerned. Even as the creature squirmed, kicked and cussed at its living confinement.

This little one, as hateful and stubborn as it was, seemed to have an incredibly anxious outlook on the world around it. Its body language was often closed off and wary. Its arms wrapped around its knees as it kept to itself. It was like it lived in a constant state of stress—even if it had been expressed to him just how safe he was. Then there was the fact that Roman would often leave in the morning to run some errands or meet with some friends, return home and the human would still be seated in the same position he had left it in.

The dark clothing it wore also made it difficult to get a real read on its body language. The hoodie it wore was a bit over-sized on the tiny frame, but it didn’t seem to be too much of a bother. If anything, he seemed to like having the jacket be a bit too big as it gave him a place to hide.

There had been a couple times where Roman may have, admittedly, come off a bit strong while trying to reach an understanding and the human had hidden away in his jacket. Hood up, hands stuffed into the pockets and knees directly against his chest.

He also seemed to shy away from attention, which was something Roman had picked up on quickly.

The human didn’t like when Roman watched him in silence, even though the creature was a huge (no pun intended) fucking hypocrite. Apparently it was only okay when it was the one doing the staring.

Then there was the fact that he had chosen this.

It had been his own decision and here he was facing the consequences. A part of the reason Roman had picked this specific human was to give him a second chance at life, even if he had been a bit foul-mouthed upon their first meeting. That, and he had a feeling that not many others would give the little one the chance he deserved. The human would have either been put down, or lived his the rest of his life completely alone.

So, he couldn’t blame anyone for forcing this responsibility upon him as it had been entirely up to him to make that choice.

Which had then, in turn, led him right to this moment.

Letting out a sigh, Roman straightened a little and turned his attention from his laptop towards the cage settled on his dresser not a foot away. “Are you just going to keep staring at me, or do you actually want to talk this time?”

Roman wasn’t entirely hopeful with getting conversation from the human, or real words for that matter, but he was tired of the relentless staring. He was also frustrated, but not to the point where he was going to force the human to say anything. That would probably cause more harm than good. Scaring the human was not his intention and it never would be, even if that was an option.

Intimidation was always an option, just not one that would get the desired end result.

It seemed as though Roman’s sudden statement had startled the creature into ducking further into his hoodie, pulling his sweater paws up defensively and watching him carefully from over-top of his knees with those analytical hazel eyes.

He was just…tired. Tired of this charade. Of this game. It was almost getting to the point where he was close to regretting the choice of adoption. Not just yet, but he was slowly getting there.

Some of his other friends had talkative, adorable and affectionate humans. Ones that liked attention and liked being spoiled with gifts and treats and liked conversation and storytelling. A‌ part of him was just so confused by his human’s reluctance to listen or respond or interact. It was something that he wanted to understand, but he couldn’t even begin to understand if the human never spoke to him.

Patton had told him that some humans just needed time to adjust—told him that when he had gotten Logan, the little one had barely paid attention to him, almost constantly trying to find a way out before eventually figuring out he was perfectly safe and beginning to actually enjoy Patton’s presence.

But Roman had already given the human plenty of time and yet it still remained eerily silent. It was easy to say that Roman envied Patton in that regard.

“Well?”‌ Roman prompted after a moment, a brow quirked in question.

Roman knew the little one wasn’t mute. He had used his voice to shout and shriek and swear, making his likes and dislikes very clear, all without the use of proper words.

“…what’s it even matter if I talk or not,”‌ the human said, his voice quiet and muffled by his hoodie sleeves but still as sharp and cold as ice. He was obviously upset. “Not like its gonna change anything.”

As relieved—as well as pleasantly surprised and excited—as Roman wanted to be when it came to actually holding an intelligent conversation, the human’s statement was so…depressing.

“On the contrary. Hearing you talk matters far more than you think it does,”‌ Roman said, folding his laptop down and setting it onto his desk. He then turned completely to face the cage where the human sat. “Actually talking to you makes it a lot easier to communicate instead of just having you glare at me constantly.”

“Yeah,” the human snorted humorlessly, “as if that’s gonna change just because I have a voice and decided to use it.”

Seriously, what was with the negativity?‌ The human had barely said anything and already his words stung.

It was a learned behavior, Roman knew that. Self-deprecation didn’t come naturally. At least, it shouldn’t. He had known plenty of people before now that used that kind of humour to make them feel better or to hide their true feelings, but hearing it from the slumped and dejected shoulders of the human seemed to have a far different effect.

The human turned his gaze away, pulling his knees closer to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. “If you can’t tell, my life has gone from kinda decent to the worst few weeks of my entire life all within a couple hours. So, forgive me for not wanting to socialize with the giant that kidnapped me and ruined everything.”

Ruined everything?‌‌ Now that— that had to be a little harsh, right? It wasn’t as if the human had anything left for him back on Earth. Roman was only doing the best thing for him. He was giving him a better life, where he didn’t have to worry about anything anymore. He would be fed, cared for, protected. Safe. What part of this set-up was so bad that the creature was still so incredibly hostile?

Roman kind of got it. Earth was the only home the human had ever known, so it was no wonder he was attached. It just made his job harder, which he now knew meant he had to try and convince the little one that life here with him would be better.

Now that they were actually on talking terms, he had more of a chance to get real and honest responses.

“I don’t think you understand what kind of set-up we have.”‌

Roman had tried to explain it before, but the human had only snorted at him before turning his back. It was clear he didn’t believe him, which was understandable. Trusting a stranger was hard enough, but trying to trust someone that had taken you from the only place you’ve ever known?

Okay, yeah, so Roman did get it. More than he thought he did.

The human sneered, shaking his head. “I‌ know exactly what kind of set-up we have,” he spat, venom injected into his every word once again.

Roman pinched the bridge of his nose, that frustration coming back briefly, making a small appearance in his chest as his emotions flickered. He was just feeling a lot and he wasn’t entirely sure what he should be feeling at this point in the conversation. “I‌ really don’t think you do.”

“Then enlighten me,” the creature snapped, eyes sharp as knives. Clearly he was judging Roman and was already judging the words he hadn’t said yet. “What do we have going on here?”

It was a taunt. That’s exactly what that was. A poisonous threat that could and would crumble everything Roman had worked for when it came to treating the human as well as he deserved. Unspoken but well known, the human had been rather spoiled in an attempt to get it to warm up to him eventually. It was kind of like a thoughtless bribe, really.

The statement was so loaded, that Roman almost didn’t know how to answer him.

Except, when he stayed quiet for a heartbeat too long, the human seemed to take it as his answer.

“That’s what I thought,”‌ he said, his tone almost sounded somewhat defeated. “I’m this helpless little creature you ‘rescued’ from Earth and its terribly deadly landscape and then ‘adopted’ because you knew no one else would want me.” He chuckled mirthlessly, shaking his head and resting his cheek on his arms that were folded over the tops of his curled knees. “I don’t want your pity and I‌ sure as hell don’t want your care. If I’m just some pet for your amusement, the least you can do for me is leave me alone.”

To say that he wasn’t surprised, would be entirely wrong. Roman’s brows had raised in slight shock from the miserable statement.

Giving it another second of silence, Roman got up finally and moved over to his dresser before crouching down in front of it. He watched as the human seemed to try and tuck himself further into his corner, looking as if he was trying to hide in plain sight.

“Look,”‌ Roman started off after a moment, watching as the little one kept his gaze locked on the wall to his right, “you’re not happy here, I‌ get that. But you have to understand that Earth really wasn’t exactly inhabitable anymore.” The human snorted but before he could say anything to refute it, Roman continued. “I’m trying to be as accommodating as possible. And if I haven’t been great about it, it’s because you tell me literally nothing; what you want, what you don’t want, what you like, what you don’t like. This is supposed to be a two-way thing and it doesn’t work if you refuse to acknowledge my attempts at trying to better your life.”

“I don’t want you to better my life, don’t you get it?”‌ The human snarled suddenly, brown eyes meeting his own, blazing with intensity. “I was perfectly happy back home, living my life the way I wanted to live it. Not constantly being hovered over by someone that thinks of me as lesser than any other intelligent sentient being.”

“I‌ just want to mention that being here with me, would be far better than being stuck in a shelter,”‌ Roman finally snipped back, letting that irritation rear its head. “At least here I‌ care. You could have been stuck with someone far worse, don’t you think? At least I‌ try and reason with you—which would have been far better if you had been in a more talkative mood.”

The human’s fingers dug into the black fabric of his jacket, the small knuckles going pure white from the intensity of the hold. “I don’t care,”‌ he grit out through clenched teeth, looking increasingly distressed. “I don’t like this situation, I don’t like this place and I‌ sure don’t like you.”

That statement left Roman staggered momentarily. “I get that, truly I‌ do, but why?”

The human’s eyes squeezed shut and Roman belatedly realized he could see tears gathering in the corners of its eyes.

He also belatedly realized he may have pushed a bit too far…

The boy’s jaw shuddered as he took in an unsteady breath, shaking his head. The human’s fingers dug further into the jacket as if it was the only resource he could hold onto. “I want to go home,”‌ he breathed, his voice on the cusp of shattering. “I‌ want to go home. Please.”

Before Roman even had the wits to say anything (even as he felt his heart stammer, his throat tightening with emotion) the human was speaking again…no, he was mumbling to himself, over and over again. As if Roman wasn’t even there anymore. Or perhaps this was an act to gain more pity than he had already received.

However, this seemed far too genuine for him to be faking it.

“Please,” the tiny creature sobbed, his hands moving to push his hair out of his face but keeping his head tucked down to his knees as far as it could go. “Please, please, please.” He choked on a hiccup, the sounds of absolute desperation didn’t go unnoticed when they were the only thing Roman could focus on. The only thing he could hear. “I-I‌ want my brother. I‌ just..I‌ want to go home a-and see him again and be told that everything’s gonna be okay and he’s— he’s…”

Roman wished there was something he could say. Something to make the human feel better, but nothing was coming to mind. He was left watching the little one break down in front of him and there was nothing he could do.

He had never felt so helpless and big in his entire life.

The human’s fingers were digging into its hair, trying to find a way to ground itself as it mumbled through sobs. Speaking indistinctly about wanting to go home, a brother and a few more things that Roman couldn’t make out. So, he just stayed there, knelt in front of the cage looking useless and dumbstruck. He wasn’t even sure what to say at this point, or if he should say anything.

In all honesty, a part of him had forgotten that humans had families too. It was more of a fact that was never touched upon in training courses. A lot of what was talked about was how the trainees should be warned about things like humans fighting back, how to protect themselves, how to properly transport a human, etc, etc.

Talking about a human’s past—family and friends included—seemed to be a topic that was skillfully avoided.

As if it were a tactic…trying not play off the fact that maybe something was wrong with what was going on.

The more he thought about it, the more Roman’s head and heart hurt. He hated seeing the little one so torn up about what was happening, but he also had the urge to try and reassure him again that he was perfectly safe and Roman would make sure nothing happened to him again.

But as he looked at the little creature, rocking himself back and forth, his head buried into his knees, going through what seemed to be a panic attack, he realized there was nothing he could do to help.

However, Roman couldn’t just stay there off to the side not doing anything. It only made him feel worse. He needed to say something, try and help the little one get his thoughts in order, but how?

“What’s his name?” He asked suddenly, surprising himself and causing the human to flinch at the utter suddenness of it. Roman quickly adjusted his tone. “…your brother’s name, that is.”

The human shook his head, turning his face further away from Roman, hiccups filling the silence between choked breaths and gasps.

Roman clenched his hands, his nails biting into his palms but it wasn’t from frustration. It was from nerves. He didn’t know how to help someone through something like this! Patton was better when it came to things like this, but his friend was currently out of reach and Roman had to figure this out himself.

The silence was hard to bear, though. The quivering noises only made his stomach churn with guilt.

Even though Roman’s question had startled the human, it seemed after a couple minutes he was beginning to come down from the initial terror. It was obvious that this breakdown had been a long time coming and Roman had just unfortunately caused it by pressing too hard for answers. It was something he was aware of when it came to his personality, and usually others could handle it. He supposed he should have known better when it came to the human. Especially with how non-verbal he always was and how asking too many questions at once could freak him out.

The human coughed a little bit, a hand pressed to his mouth as he tried to steady his breathing.

It was a tactic Roman had never seen before. He guessed it was kind of like hyperventilating into a paper bag, just using one’s own hand instead. Even in this instance, he was still rather fascinated with the little creature. Just how small it was, was absolutely captivating. The minuscule hands and even smaller fingers.

The human was incredibly delicate to the touch and Roman could remember holding him. He could remember feeling the tiny little chest heaving against his fingertips and a heartbeat thudding behind it, pattering rhythmically to its own beat.

He had never truly realized just how much power he held over the little creatures and how easily it would have been for him to—

No. No. He wasn’t thinking about that.

It didn’t matter how aggravating this human could and would be, Roman wouldn’t hurt him. He wouldn’t intimidate him—purposefully, at least—and he wouldn’t force him to give up any information he wasn’t willing to.

While, yes, it was frustrating, he couldn’t stomach the thought of it. He couldn’t bear the idea of the human staring up at him with terrified, wide, tear-filled eyes forever. No, Roman was well aware that they may never be friends, but that didn’t matter as long as the human at least felt safe in his presence.

Roman just wanted him to feel safe.

He didn’t want the human to feel frightened, fearing every single move Roman made, constantly waiting for something to happen. Something that was never ever going to come.

“…D-Dorian…”

The suddenness of the human’s voice made Roman’s eyes snap back up to him, wide and surprised. He instantly felt worse when the human jerked backward, hands tightening in the black fabric of his jacket. The little one looked as if he regretted saying anything at all.

“What?”

The human tilted his head away, scrubbing at the dampness on his cheeks, even as flushed as his face was. “Y-you asked for his name,” he murmured, swallowing thickly, “it’s— it’s Dorian.”

Getting the name of the human’s brother almost made it worse. Roman knew he had asked, but he almost felt sick by actually being granted the information. He struggled to come up with something to say back to it. What could he say? While he didn’t like thinking about it, Roman probably had ruined everything for the little one. Stealing him away from his brother, bringing him back to a place that was unknown and foreign to him.

He shook the bitter thoughts away, he couldn’t let that get to him right now. He was finally getting more positive communication from the little one and he couldn’t ignore it.

“It’s a lovely name,” Roman said after a moment of deliberation, keeping his voice reserved and gentle. “Would it be possible to get your name as well? If you’re not comfortable with it, you certainly don’t have to!”

The human sat in silence again, his head stayed ducked down as he continued to use his sweater paws to wipe his tears away, soft hiccups escaping him from time to time. Roman knew the little thing had to be absolutely exhausted. Going through a panic attack had to be terribly draining, emotionally and physically.

The human sniffled, blinking the rest of the water from his lashes and finally, finally, turning his eyes up to meet Roman’s. They were unguarded hazel browns with tears lingering in the depths of them, pooling slowly as he seemed to decide if Roman was a safe enough person to give such a personal thing to. Names were incredibly personal and he would understand completely if he was still ignored. Really, he wouldn’t take it to heart now that he knew the true extents that he human felt.

The creature’s eyes flickered over Roman’s own features and he felt oddly vulnerable, even though the subject staring at him had been doing the same thing for ages at this point.

However, this time felt entirely different.

The human looked tired. Like he had almost given up, but still held a resilience that said he’s wasn’t done just yet.

The human took a breath and Roman held his own. Almost waiting in anticipation now. The human scrubbed at his face again with his hoodie sleeve before, blinking and biting his lip. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something before closing it again, as if he had almost thought better of it. “…it’s, um, Virgil.”

Roman blanched.

He had been told such an indescribably important thing. Getting to know the human’s—Virgil’s—name was not something to take lightly. It was knowledge he knew he would have to cherish.

He cleared his throat when he realized he hadn’t said anything and it was probably making Virgil nervous.

“I’d say it’s a pleasure but… I don’t think you’d consider it as such,” Roman said, trying to at least humour him a little bit.

Roman was surprised to hear a quiet, wet half laugh in response. But pleasantly relieved to hear that it hadn’t been taken the wrong way.

“I really wouldn’t call it a pleasure,”‌ Virgil said back, his voice quiet and still on the cusp of shattering.

“How about this.” Roman shifted a little bit on his knees, trying to get more comfortable in his crouched position. He hadn’t realized how tense he had been up until now. “We start over.”

Virgil quirked a brow in response, carefully leaning back at that while also slightly uncurling from his defensive position. The same defensive position that Roman had seen him tucked into day after day. It was almost heart-warming to see him changing a bit. “Start over?”

“Yeah, I‌ mean, you just introduced yourself, so it is only fair I reintroduce myself.” Sure, the idea was rather cheesy and made him feel a little silly, but if it helped Virgil feel more comfortable in his presence, than Roman was more than willing to do it.

“That’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard,” the human mused, his lips pressed into a thin line as he cleared the rest of the water from his eyes. He then hesitated after a moment. He looked unimpressed, but Roman supposed that was better than a heated, seething glare. “…fine.”

Roman beamed at the conformation and resisted the urge to reach his hand out in a handshake—knowing that it would not be taken well in the slightest. Just because they were on talking terms, didn’t mean that erased all of Virgil’s anxious feelings. “Roman Prince, at your service.”

Virgil snorted, shaking his head. He still looked unaffected, since he already knew Roman’s name.

But the aura didn’t feel as tense anymore, which was a huge weight off of Roman’s shoulders. And perhaps, maybe it was a weight off of Virgil’s as well.

However, even though they had come through to the other side of this whole mess, it didn’t erase the guilt that Roman felt. A part of him almost felt worse now that he knew Virgil’s name. The slumped shoulders and depressed looks were almost heavier now, especially since he wasn’t just referring to him with nicknames anymore.

That and he was almost more curious about what Virgil’s life had been like before all of this. Not wanting to press, but still curious if he was still in the talking mood, Roman’s eyes scanned the human’s form. Before his own browns softened and he tilted his head to the side slightly. “…can you tell me more about your brother?”

The question made Virgil stiffen and his features turned guarded and defensive again. “…why do you care?”

“I‌ have a brother too,” Roman said casually, attempting to ease the conversation. Showing that there truly were no ulterior motives and that he was genuinely curious. “A twin and an absolute mess of a man, but family nonetheless. I’m also just curious to understand what your life was like before.. all of this happened.”

Virgil’s eyes flickered over Roman’s person again, studying him, trying to work out something behind his brown eyes. As if he was trying to find something wrong with Roman’s sentence, to “read between the lines” so to speak.

He then uncurled himself a little more, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaning against the back of his enclosure. His head tilted the other way, staring at the wall in the opposite direction of Roman, but looking reminiscent. He kept his arms crossed against his chest and his hands tucked inside his sleeves, but the human nodded his head somberly after a moment.

Roman sat back on his hands, carefully attuned to whatever the human was going to say. He may have made his fair share of mistakes, but it seemed as though Virgil was willing to work past that. At least for now.

And that was all Roman could really ask for.

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