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tinyboxxtink · 3 years

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"Doppelganger" *Part 17*

WHOO, y'all I really didn't think I had a lot left in me and then this just came pouring out. Wow. So yeah after about 3 hours and some crying and a breakdown later, here's another chapter. Definitely gonna get to 20. Oh yeah.

Warning: ANGST. SO MUCH ANGST. This one kinda got too close to home, but I made it that way so I have no one to blame but myself. If it hits close to home for you as well, I'm so sorry. Also if you're sensitive to....idk I guess I'll just say "drug use"? Use caution when reading.

Part 16

Part 18

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

-------

That Monday you went to class for the first time since you had been abducted. You slunk into class and sat in the back trying to remain unnoticed, but everyone instantly turned to you.

"Oh my god Y/N! Are you ok?!" One student asked you.

"How scary was it?" Another one asked.

"Was Nevada good in bed?" One girl asked you, causing three girls to hit her and shoo her away.

"I um...I…" you tried to breathe, but the questions and chatter kept coming. It was too much for you to handle. You grabbed your stuff and ran out of the classroom, down the hall.

"Hey sweetie are you ok--?" A young Hispanic girl asked you. It took you back to when Gabi had befriended you. You backed away from her and ran out of the building into the quad. You were hyperventilating, you could barely see in front of you. You collapsed onto the grass, crying. You hit your speed dial to call Chloe.

“Hello?”

“Ch-Chloe, I--” You could barely breathe, you were crying so hard. People were starting to stare, you had to get control of yourself.

“Y/N? Oh my god babe are you ok? What happened?”

“I...I need you…” You gasped, trying to get up and duck behind a building where no one could stare at you.

“Oh, oh honey I’m across town right now. Otherwise you know I’d come right down there,” She apologized. “Why don’t you call--”

“I can’t call Rafael,” You cut her off. “I don’t want him to know how fucked up I still am about all of this, we just started to get back to normal,”

“...Um okay, well I don’t know what you want me to--”

“Forget it, I’ll be fine,” You hung up the phone before she could say anything else. You felt bad for being so short with her, but you weren’t exactly yourself right now.

You really didn’t want to have to use Rafael as your crutch, your lifejacket. He had his own life, his own career. He didn’t have time to babysit you. You took several deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down. You glanced around the corner, fewer people were in the quad now. You calmed yourself down enough to walk over and sit under a tree, breathing in the spring air.

You were just starting to calm down when your phone rang: RAFAEL CALLING.

Dammit Chloe…You reluctantly answered the phone with a fake chipper voice. “Hey baby!”

“Hola mi amor, Como estas?”

“I’m fine, Raffi…”

“Are you sure? Because Chloe just called me and--”

“She shouldn’t have called you,” You grumbled.

“Y/N, look baby if you’re in distress--”

“I’m not in distress, Rafael. I’m fine,”

“Are you--”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m sorry Chloe called you. I’ll see you at home,” You hung up the phone abruptly. You instantly felt guilty; why were you taking it out on him? He was just trying to help. But you didn’t want him worrying about you, that was the whole point. You just wanted to forget about everything for a while. You laid down under the tree and closed your eyes, enjoying the sunshine on your face.

-------

Meanwhile

Rafael really didn’t want to betray your trust, but he didn’t know what else to do at this point. You clearly needed outside help and you refused to let him give it to you, so he felt like he had no choice. He went down to the precinct and into Olivia’s office.

“Rafa,” Olivia stood up as he walked in.

“Hey Liv,” He nodded, giving her a small hug. She walked back around her desk as he took a seat.

“What’s up?”

“It’s….Y/N,”

“She’s having trouble dealing with her trauma, isn’t she?”

“...Yes,” He nodded sadly. “And she won’t talk to me. She won’t let me talk to her about it because she doesn’t want me to think of her as a ‘victim’ and--”

“Well of course not Rafael, you’re her--” She paused. “Are you two still engaged?”

“YES, Olivia,” He sternly replied. “We’re still engaged,”

“Okay, sorry,” She bit her lip. “Anyway, of course she’s not going to want to discuss her trauma with you, you’re her loved one. Would you want her to see you as a victim?”

“...No,” He shook his head. “But she needs to talk to someone,”

“Are you suggesting I talk to her?” Olivia half laughed. “Because that’s probably worse than talking to you--”

“Why? She won’t feel ashamed telling you things, she doesn’t care what you think of her,”

“Well, gee thanks,”

“You know what I mean,”

“Yeah I do. She doesn’t like me,” Olivia pointed out. “Which means she won’t be as open to me, you know that,”

“Well, I mean if any of the other squad members come to her she’s just going to be upset more and more people know about her, and I just thought---” He sighed and held his head in hands. “I just-- I don’t know what to do, Liv,”

Olivia came around her desk again and put a hand on Rafael’s shoulder. “...I’ll try, if you really want me to,”

He looked up and gave her a small smile. “Thank you, Liv,”

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

That Night

You had come back to Rafael’s after your little meltdown. While you were at school, a very kind gentleman found you lying under the tree and noticed you needed a bit of shall we say, a chill pill. You had gladly taken a few and popped them on the way home, and you were currently sleeping it off in the front of the TV when Rafael came home, and he wasn’t alone.

“Y/N….Baby?” He called, but there was no answer. He gave Liv a worried look as he dashed through your living room, to find you unconscious on the couch while Netflix was asking “ARE YOU STILL THERE?”

“Oh my god, Y/N! Baby, baby are you okay? Y/N, wake up!” Rafael violently shook you as Olivia started to call for a bus. She stopped dialing when you groggily awoke, stroking Rafael’s face with a sleepy smile.

“Heyyy, baby--” You kissed him deeply.

“Are you--- are you high, right now?” He looked at you horrified.

“What? No! No….maybe a little bit,” You bit your lip trying not to giggle at his very serious face.

“God dammit-- Y/N, carino-- why--?”

“Oh my GOD,” You suddenly noticed Olivia standing behind him. “What is she doing here?”

“She came to--”

“Oh my god, you told her to come here didn’t you? You’re kicking me out, aren’t you? For HER?”

“What? No! Jesus Christ, Y/N what exactly did you take--”

“Oh yeah, let me just tell the ginger snap here what drugs I’m on, and then she can throw me in jail and have you all to herself!”

“What the-- alright that’s it, you with me,” He grabbed your arm and started dragging you to his room. “I’m sorry about this Liv,” He looked at her apologetically.

“Oh yeah, sorry Olivia, wouldn’t want to interrupt your romantic evening with my fiancée,” You mocked, making Rafael walk faster. He pulled you into the room but you were so out of it you flopped onto the bed like a rag doll.

“Jesus-- Okay seriously baby, you need to tell me what you took,”

“No! It was nothing, it was just something to calm me down, it’s not a big deal--”

“It IS a big deal!” He yelled angrily. “Look at you! You can barely sit up!”

“I’m fine! See?” You sat up for about 10 seconds before falling back down on the bed again. You started giggling uncontrollably until you saw Rafael’s face. He wasn’t angry anymore he was...sad? Scared? His eyes were filled with tears, his hand was over his mouth.

“....What is happening right now?” You blinked several times, trying to clear your mind. Seeing Rafael in distress suddenly made being high not so fun anymore.

“...You know this is how I had to see my dad every day when I was a kid,” He said through choked back tears. “You know how traumatic it is to see you like this Y/N I don’t know why--”

“What?” You suddenly sat up quickly, holding on to the edge of the bed to keep you upright. “I...no, you said he used to beat--”

“You think he was SOBER while doing that?!” Rafael yelled louder now, and became more angry.

“...No, I guess not--” You hung your head down, mostly because it was difficult to keep it upright.

“I...I can’t talk to you when you’re like this, I just can’t,” He threw his hands up and walked towards the door.

“Rafa I--”

“Just sleep it off, we’ll talk later,” He snarled and slammed the door.

Almost immediately you burst into tears; how could you have done this to him? You hadn’t really thought about his whole dad situation, but now that he said it out loud it made perfect sense.

You just wanted to feel better, without causing him grief. And instead you had caused him heartache and pain. It made you hate yourself more than you already did.

And to top it off, Olivia was now out there with him in the living room, probably comforting him. Holding him while he cried about how you hurt him. You were driving him right back into her arms, no potions needed. You wanted so badly to just go in there and tell her to get the fuck away from your man, but you still couldn’t stand. You just laid there and cried until you fell asleep.

------

Hours later, you woke up to a dark room once again. It was 10:30. How long had you been out? You cautiously opened the door, but the living room was dark. Rafael wasn’t there?

“...Baby?” You called through the apartment to make sure, but sure enough there was no answer. You flipped on the light to see a note with your name on it. Oh god.

“No, no no no no--” You raced over and opened the paper, praying to God it wouldn’t say what you thought it would.

“Y/N-- Went out to clear my head, think about things. There’s food in the fridge I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be back?” You read out loud. When? Tonight? Tomorrow? A week from now? You started to grab your phone to call him, but before you could the door swung open and Rafael came sneaking in-- with Olivia.

“Oh my, Oh my god--” You wanted to vomit right there. They were both clearly a little tipsy and giggling, but when they saw you they straightened up quickly.

“Hey baby, you’re up,” He smiled sweetly, walking over and kissing your cheek.

“Oh so this is what we’re doing now, is it? I get high and upset you, so you go and get drunk to upset me?”

“What? No, I just-- we were just--” He looked to Liv.

“Y/N listen, we were just--” Olivia tried to explain.

“Oh I think you were JUST LEAVING, bitch,” You growled, starting to charge her but Rafael grabbed your arm.

“HEY, leave Liv alone,” He told you sternly, almost glaring at you. You had been here before, this was too familiar. You looked at him in surprise, then turned to Olivia with anger.

“...You did it again, didn’t you?” Hot tears stung your eyes as you swiped your arm from Rafael’s grasp.

“Did what?” Olivia asked, oblivious.

“You dosed him again, DIDN’T YOU?!” You started to charge her again as you screamed, but this time Rafael grabbed you by your waist.

“Y/N! Nobody fucking dosed me, you wanna talk about dosing? Let’s talk about how I found you earlier,” He barked.

“That was completely different--” You started to defend yourself.

“Why? Because you wanted to feel better?” He asked you angrily. “Because I went out and did the same thing, and just because you’re insecure about Liv and I, suddenly she has me under a spell?”

“This isn’t you,” You shook your head with tears rolling down your cheeks. “It just isn’t, I know it’s not,” You looked to Olivia, who still retained her confused look.

“Olivia, can you--?” Rafael looked at her while nodding at the door.

“Yeah, of course, I’ll-- talk to you later,” She gave a little nervous wave before walking out and closing the door behind her.

------

“See? Are you happy now?” He threw up his hands. “I didn’t go after her like a little love spelled puppy, Y/N,”

“You don’t have to mock me--”

“I told you I wasn’t under anything! You think that just because I’m mad at you, suddenly I must be under some kind of spell? Because, what? Because I can’t be mad at you, because you’re ‘going through something’? What about me?! What about what you’re putting me through?!”

“I’m trying NOT TO!!!!!!” You screamed.

“Yeah well you’re doing a hell of a job,” He laughed sarcastically, walking through the living room to his room.

“Rafael, Rafa!” You chased after him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

“To what, Y/N? To get high in the middle of the day on god knows what? Or did you not mean to get caught?” He sneered as he started to get undressed.

“I just wanted to feel better!!” You stomped your foot.

“I don’t make you feel better? You need drugs for that?!” Tears came to his eyes. He couldn’t believe what you were saying.

“No!!! I just--” You paused, trying not to cry. “I just don’t want our relationship to be you constantly comforting me, or-- or taking care of me, like I’m a child!”

“Yeah well you’re sure as hell acting like one,” He tossed off his pants and dress shirt and stomped into his bathroom to get a t-shirt to wear with his boxers.

“....Why are you putting clothes on to sleep?” You asked him cautiously; you both usually slept naked in each other’s arms all night.

“Because I’m sleeping in the guest room, you can have the bed,” He pushed past you and out the door heading down the hallway to the guest room.

“No, no no no no Rafael don’t,” You quickly trailed him, grabbing his hand and making him face you.

“Why? I don’t make you feel better, why don’t you sleep with your pills?” He narrowed his eyes at you as he pulled away from you and started to walk away again.

“.....Please….” You softly whimpered, making him stop in his tracks. He didn’t turn around, he just looked at the ground and sighed.

“...Please don’t leave me alone,” You sounded like a little girl scared of the dark, but you didn’t care.

You couldn’t pretend that you didn’t need him anymore, because the truth is you did. You needed him by you every second of every day, you felt absolutely helpless without him. And you hated it. But you couldn’t hide it anymore.

After a long pause, Rafael turned back to face you, tears were streaming down your face. You looked so small and pitiful, he instantly regretted yelling at you like he had. He walked back slowly towards you, taking you in his arms and rubbing your back.

“I’m never going to leave you alone, carino,” He whispered as you sobbed into his chest. “I promise you,”

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered. “I’m so sorry about today. I just--”

“I know,” He nodded as he walked you back into his room and sat you on the bed as you pulled your clothes off. He took off his clothes and crawled into bed next to you, listening to your cries die down.

“I’m sorry I went out with Olivia, mi amor,” He apologized into your ear as he spooned you. “I knew how much that would hurt you and I did it anyway,”

“...It’s fine,” You nodded, even though you weren’t sure it was. But, you knew on some level that being high in front of Rafael would upset him and you did it anyway, so you couldn’t really hold onto it.

“....You really do need someone to talk to though, baby. Even if it’s not me,” He whispered, kissing the back of your neck gently. “Please?”

“Okay,” You nodded as you turned to face him. “I’ll do anything you want me to Rafa,”

“I want you to do it for you,” He pressed his forehead against yours.

“I don’t care about me, I care about you!” You shook your head.

“And I care about-- see this is what I’m talking about, baby,” He sighed. “You have to stop-- punishing yourself, or hating yourself, for whatever happened. We’re never going to be able to move on if you don’t,”

“....Okay,”

“Okay you’ll do it?”

“...I’ll try,”

“Okay,” He kissed you gently. “That’s all I’m asking,”

“....I flushed the rest of the pills,” You told him softly, making him smile for the first time that night.

“Thank you, baby,” He kissed you again.

“And I don’t care if you think that you’re--- being a burden, or needy, or some kind of anchor because you need me to feel safe. I want you to feel safe, all the time. And I WANT to be the one who makes you feel safe. Not drugs, not alcohol, not anybody else. Me. And if I need to be by your side 24/7 for the time being, then that’s what I’ll do,”

“What? Rafa come on--” You started to protest.

“No, I’m serious,” He took your hands. “I made a commitment to you, and I’m damn sure going to keep it. I will protect you from now until the end of our lives. So, I’ll call Morgan tomorrow and tell her that until further notice, unless I’m in court I’ll be working from home, okay?”

“I---I can’t ask you to do that--”

“You’re not asking me, carino. I’m offering-- No, I’m telling you, that’s what I’m doing,”

“....Okay,” You nodded with a small smile, snuggling closer into his chest as he pulled you tighter.

“I love you, Y/N. I love you more than anything in the world,” He whispered to the top of your head as you fell asleep on his chest.

“I love you too Rafael,” You cooed as you drifted off to sleep.

#rafael barba fluff #rafael barba angst #rafael barba fanfiction #rafael barba #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #werewolf

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liebegott · 4 years

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oof this is my last long post for tonight i swear, i’m sorry for clogging up your dashes! i’ll remind myself tomorrow to tag my compliments so you can hide them if you’d like- i physically cannot make them any shorter agh.

i wanna thank everyone who send me a rainbow emoji tonight. i’ve been having a really terrible week, and my brain has been mean to me for the past few nights, but doing this helped me a lot. i appreciate every single one of you so much (oops if i haven’t made that obvious yet), and i managed to curb a meltdown by focusing on what made you all so great. so thank you all for existing and for being my friend. my life is 100000x better because of all of you!! ok i will shut up now i’m so sorry 😂💓

#rambles #i will shut up for real now im a gremlin who needs to sleep

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curanonemu · 5 years

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come home and stop the pain tonight

tags: song mingi x reader, angst, happy ending, lowercase

I wrote this two months ago when it rained but tossed it away. It rained again so I decided to post it. Title from I Miss You by blink-182. Sorry about the angst. 😅

it's cold outside, the steady sound of raindrops hitting the ground outside, interrupted occasionally by the rumble of thunder. you don't want to look outside, it's dark, you can't see much anyway. you love the rain. you really do, but something at the moment just turns you cold, makes your skin prickle as the wind bites at it.

maybe it's because you've not felt human warmth for a while now.

you miss having his arms wrap around you in his signature tight embrace. safe and warm. your hands come up to rub at your arms, trying to will away the feeling. you can't put a name to it, but you don't like it.

sad. it seems too light.

hurt. about what? there's nothing to hurt you here.

lonely. you hate that word. you understand it all too well, as much as you wish you didn't.

it's late at night, you're the only one in the house, and you're hurtling towards a meltdown at an increasingly alarming rate. you just want it to be over - the night, the pain, your feelings. is it so much to ask for?

when was the last time someone told you you were important? you push out the image of him saying it, because you don't want to depend upon his kindness any more than you already have. when was the last time someone told you they cared? again, he's the only one that your mind provides as an answer, and you resolutely push him away. just like you always have.

it's already been months since you last experienced it.

and that's only because you pushed him away each time he tried to get closer. you were the one who ended those late-night calls, claiming you had to wake up early the next day, even though the following morning would see you holding your pillow tight, hiding under your blankets, trying to pretend even for a minute that you were holding mingi and he was holding you back. you were the one who didn't go to visit him when he was in the next town, because you didn't want to meet for ten minutes before you'd lose him again.

it hurts, thinking about him and him-with-you, the time and memories you've shared with each other. you're possibly the only one still clinging on to them. he's got the whole world to himself, hasn't he? he's probably going on with his day in some part of the world just fine, while you're drowning in your emotions.

it's late at night, and you're not expecting any visitors. yet, the bell rings anyway, and your attention goes to the door.

another memory flashes in your mind, him dancing around the living room, picking you up and spinning you around, laughing all the while with the radiance of all the stars ever.

he's unpredictable. had he been here now, it'd either be an excited dash to the door, or a lazy complaint for you to deal with it. tonight, you wish he were on the other side.

hell, you just wish he were with you. but just like the rain soaking the world outside, your tears soak your eyelashes, and you wipe at them with your sleeve.

you miss mingi. but you have to go on in life. you can't drop everything just because you don't have your everything with you.

you drag yourself up off the couch, and make your way sluggishly to the door. cracking it open, you stand in the doorway.

so does he.

smiling.

your throat closes up even before the tears well up and start falling.

"stupid mingi."

you bite your lip, chin trembling as you choke the words out, and he smiles even harder, eyes crinkling at the corners. "i'm back, babe."

it takes less than a moment for you to fling yourself at him, and less than another for him to hold you tight.

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #song mingi x reader #ateez x reader #song mingi imagines #song mingi #this is dumb don't @ me #cura writes

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nightlet · 4 years

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It’s been a rough day for Paralives.

So here I am, just got off work and settling in at home, when I get a Patreon update from Paralives. Guess I missed most of the action (I don’t use Twitter and I hardly use Discord) and a lot of it was deleted by the time I caught wind of the goings on, but Reddit’s got my back with the reciepts. I’ll try to compile it as best I can here so that it’s at least all in one place.

So from my understanding the first (hint? notice? absolute sirens?) that not all was well in the Parasphere was Roxane’s twitter meltdown.

Screencaps were posted by u/North_Activist over on Reddit. I’ve just copied them most recent to oldest, so just start from the very bottom and work your way up and they should be in order for easiest reading.

Alex was fairly quick to issue an official statement, which was the Patreon update I first saw and is both screencapped and copy+pasted below.

“Hello,

This is a difficult thing to announce but Roxane left the Paralives team yesterday. Her 6 months probation period was coming close to an end and we decided not to renew her contract. We are really thankful for all that she did for the game and we wish her good luck with her future projects. Rest assured, this does not affect the development of Paralives and we will recruit more people on the team very soon.

In our next Patreon post, we will share our complete roadmap for the next features we will be working on. As you know, we have been focusing on build mode and the characters. With this solid foundation, we will now be able to work on more life simulation related features. I’m looking forward to sharing this roadmap with you! Take care,

Alex, Léa and Christine”

So. . . . yeah. Now, given that my first clue on this whole thing was the Patreon post and I personally haven’t spent any time interacting with the Paradevs (I’m sorry, I’m a sucker for all these fun Paraterms) I was a bit confused and did some snooping where I could. Unfortunately, Roxane’s Twitter account was deleted so we’re left with what screencaps can be dug up.

I’m going to be honest. As an also emotional, over-the-top bitch who would probably have done the same thing in her situation, I sympathize. This is why I don’t use Twitter. It’s too much power and they would likely end up having to put labels under my own tweets much like Trump’s this week. (Not going to get too political here but that shit is fucking funny man. We are absolutely living in a dark-ass comedy right now. “death toll rises to 100k while orange man baby in charge throws tantrum about his favorite social media calling him out” and I just fucking can’t. I’ve been staying sober since the start of quarantine to avoid getting sucked into depression by my own problems but I might just break into the vodka in my fridge tonight.) ANYWAYS. I did a little more looking around my latest favorite subreddit and came across a post from her own Simblr which has since been deleted, but here’s the screencap:

I just want to say that her Tumblr is still viewable from the dash as of my writing this and she’s posted a few things that I don’t want to repost because they hit a little too close to how I feel a lot of the time, and I hope people will, in fact, let her be after this. I’m gathering screenshots because I’m a nosy bitch who doesn’t get noticed in the Simblr community anyways so I’m sure this will just drop off into the abyss like everything else I post lol, but I’m genuinely hoping that it doesn’t become some kind of crucifixion or witch hunt by the community. We all know how the Sims community is and, while the game itself is not the Sims and in fact its own entity, the Venn diagram that is Sims community vs. Parasphere (I’m calling it that from now until the end of time) is quite nearly a circle. In the end it all comes down to he-said-she-said and I hope it doesn’t affect either the development of Paralives OR Roxane’s future endeavors.

I might gradually add some other screenshots below as I see them, including opinions from others.

-- Calarand @ Paraliveshub.com

#paralives #paralives news

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wcmiunofficial · 5 years

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WCMI (Unofficial): CH. 32 Upheaval

‘Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?’

‘That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,’ said the Cat.

‘I don’t much care where—’ said Alice.

‘Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,’ said the Cat.

‘—so long as I get somewhere,’ Alice added as an explanation.

‘Oh, you’re sure to do that,’ said the Cat, ‘if you only walk long enough.’

‘Alice in Wonderland’ by Lewis Carroll

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

Many a night passed before Reginald began to feel some semblance of balance in his daily routine. Things were as balanced for him as life could be for a madman madly in love, anyway. He was sleeping better and had turned his attention elsewhere for the time being to work on new projects in his shop. Ears was more or less forcing Reggie to keep himself busy. He made it clear that it was better to be productive instead of feeling sorry for himself. So, Reginald half-followed his advice.

The sting of rejection and loneliness still lingered in his chest with a less than dull ache. To him, it felt not quite unlike the feeling of having a bruised rib that takes one's breath away if they're not careful to watch how they go about moving with such an injury. In the earlier days when a fresher, more painful wound made itself a home in his heart, Reggie confided in Ears that he didn't think he was ever going to get over Alice. Once more, Ears gave him some sound advice. Or something like that. Reggie could barely bring himself to listen to something so utterly disheartening, though some of that ideation had crept its way into his subconscious.

Consequently, being content with working and trying everything in his power to avoid the pain that plagued him in certain moments was his default. Every day still found him tightly wound and ready to spring into something – anything - that would make him feel better. But, it was no longer the worst state of mind he could be in. For that, both Ears and the Hatter were thankful.

As it turned out, giving Alice her space had been the right decision after all, the dashing and lovestruck lunatic reasoned with himself. He was quick to notice that she had been unusually friendly in passing now more than ever. It took every ounce of the Hatter's strength not to run to her and confess his undying love whenever their paths happened to cross. But Reginald new better. And he couldn't bear the thought of her loathing him again, so he kept his distance. Waiting. Hoping. With his captivated, endearing, and technicolor heart all aflutter. Though things for the both of them were still very broken and raw, he knew.

It wasn't long before The Cat caught wind of the distinctive sounds a pair of hearts made when trapped in the wreckage of emotional turmoil. Anyone who knew anything about The Cat knew that he relished in both the misfortunes and, most times, the extreme successes of the varying inhabitants of Wonderland. Alice was unaware of such a thing. Reggie, on the other gloved hand, should have seen The Cat's arrival coming a mile away. His mind was too busy to consider it a possibility. But fate would not allow poor Reggie to outrun his problems for long....

It was a particularly cold night. Reggie had just come home from a long day of work and was sufficiently exhausted, which pleased him because it meant that he had very little time to do anything else but sleep and work these days. Exhaustion was a wonderful sleep aid, he'd learned.

As he milled about his house in a brusque attempt to get himself ready to court Dreamland from behind closed eyelids, the Hatter barely noticed the purple hat that sat upon the small work table in his home. He didn't notice it, at least, until it began to purr when he walked by.

“I don't recall making a purring hat for anyone this week,” he said aloud to absolutely no one. Reggie eyed the hat suspiciously at first. “Why, I don't think I've made one of those since last spring, if memory serves me right.” He paused for a moment and then, he laughed. “And it never does!” With this revelation, Reginald waved a dismissive hand and took to bed as soon as he was washed up and swaddled into some comfortable peacock-printed pajamas.

He sighed into his pillow, comforted by the embrace of imminent sleep. Understandably, his dreams were a better place to be these days. He was on the cusp of temporary, gentle unconsciousness when the sound of his purple squirrel friend's voice struck him out of his bed violently. “You've forgotten; you haven't made a purple and pink purring hat for anyone in at least two years.”

Reggie was up in a flash. “Wait a minute! You're positively right. What absolute balderdash is afoot tonight in this here home?!”

The storming of sizable feet echoed through the hallway leading toward his in-home work area. Upon seeing the offending hat, Reggie pointed an accusatory finger in its direction and yelled, “Who sent you?” Slowly, the hat began to unfurl into the form of a familiar and terrifying spirit. “The Cat. Of course.” Reggie's voice faltered. He swallowed hard as some of his anger left him and made way for a bit of fear which crept into the very core of him.

“Why yes, some days I am that. Other times, I am not,” purred the low voice. It echoed independently of the conditions which normally make sounds echo naturally. This reverberation was always unsettling to Reggie, and he could never get used to it. Eventually, the Hatter sighed. He addressed the unwelcome visitor directly once more: “What are you doing in my home? I know your ways and I'm sorry, but I seem to be fresh out of mischief this week, so you'll have to come back later.” His voice had an edge to it not often heard by those who knew the otherwise hail-fellow-well-met Hatter. Reggie was aware of the power The Cat held over people's lives. He was mischievous, cunning, and truly neutral in nature. There wasn't a lot he cared about. Just things he happened to be entertained by. Things he would then begin to meddle in simply for his own amusement. When the inhabitants of Wonderland spoke of “The Cat”, everyone knew exactly what they meant, and would then usually beckon for the person who brought him up to be quiet, lest they accidentally summon him. It was long rumored that The Cat was something of a deity in these parts. And while Wonderland was full of madness and madmen, most there would think better than to get tangled up with the likes of him.

A ghostly, fanged grin stretched out impossibly wide before Reggie.

“I think you know why I'm here,” The Cat chuckled lowly, now floating and stretching himself over his own tail, which propped him up and rocked him back and forth very much like a rocking chair.

“I don't,” the Hatter snapped tersely, yet quietly. Oh no. He knows about Alice and I. He's going to ruin EVERYTHING. That very thought made the hair on the back of his neck bristle.

The Cat idly stretched an arm before him, examining the claws from the backside of his paw and then flipping it oppositely to curl his digits inward and examine his claws that way, too. “Oh good. Because neither do I,” The Cat said lightly. “So I was hoping you could tell me. But I suppose since neither of us know why my presence was drawn here, it means that I must linger awhile to figure out why.”

The Hatter paused for a moment, stunned. He then approached the pink and purple feline in a fierce flurry of movement, sputtering, “I don't think so! You will not stay in my home for any length of time. I have better things to do than to play your games the way I did last time.”

Last time The Cat came to vex Reggie for fun, he rearranged the Hatter's house in perfect order, drove away his lover at the time, sorted his mail, and made no less than 25 hats using every blanket in his home for their material. It drove the Hatter, well...mad. (The hats sold strangely well, however, so there was that, at least.)

The Cat remembered this all too well and never missed a chance to regale anyone who would listen about the catastrophic meltdown that ensued after he pestered Reggie into oblivion for a week. Fewer things were more entertaining to The Cat than causing Reginald to slip further into madness.

The Cat seemed to be lost in thought for a spell and then when he addressed Reggie, he could hear the smile in the dastardly spirit's voice; “Well, I suppose I'll just have to go bother Alice, then. Purrhaps she'll be able to shed some light on my current predicament.”

Alice? The thought of The Cat pestering her sent Reggie over the edge. “No, you will NOT, Cheshire!” he cried, leaping toward The Cat. Of course, the entity escaped his clutches with relative ease, seeming to disappear and then reappear on top of Reggie's shoulder. Reggie swatted there. “Listen to me – you...you fiend!” Again, The Cat sidestepped his clumsy attempts to grapple him, floating gracefully in the air too high above The Hatter's reach. “You almost got her killed, and for that, I will NEVER forgive you. You simply cannot go near her again!” Naturally, the next course of action was to grab the umbrella near the door and attempt to swat The Cat down. Of course, The Cat managed a flawless retreat there, as well, chuckling all the way. When he reappeared and sat upon Reginald's China cabinet was when The Hatter began to rethink letting his arms fly so wildly about with his makeshift weapon. There was no way he was about to ruin all his lovely tea sets in pursuit of this pest, if he could help it. A soft, frustrated lament left his lips. “My babies...”

Reggie huffed and eyed The Cat with fire in his eyes. “What are you going to do to her?”

The Cat placed a paw upon his chest, pantomiming an ache there. “Reginald, you wound me. What kind of monster do you believe me to be?”

A very careless one, thought Reggie. His mind replayed the memories of Cheshire nearly getting Alice killed all those years ago when he appeared before her, making her accidentally insult the Queen of Hearts. Though the Queen was a truly evil and temperamental old tyrant, The Cat wasn't as bad. He was still, ahem, the catalyst to a lot of unfortunate happenings, however. Things were already so raw for both Reginald and Alice, and he didn't want her to keep hurting. The need to protect her that Reggie continually felt swelled within him now. Hatter took a step forward, puffing up his chest. “Listen,” Reggie's voice crackled with all the passion of the coals of a blazing fire being stoked, “Promise me you will leave Alice alone. I will make any deal with you that you want. Just, please...leave her alone.” He tried to remain civil, but beneath his barely composed mask, Reggie was furious. The Cat noticed this, plain as day, and it did nothing except make him even more interested. “What a tempting offer! You know, I've never seen you this calm yet simultaneously infuriated before, Reginald. You truly are the Mad Hatter now, aren't you?” The Cat's taunting response barely concealed his mirth.

Tea sets be damned, the Hatter was seriously considering vaulting over the sofa before his China cabinet and capturing the irritating ball of fur that teased him so. But before he had a chance to act, The Cat had begun to fade away. The slowly disappearing visage of its signature grin was the last thing to go. The mouth flexed into eternal, gaping laughter as it announced an apology. “So sorry, old chap, but I fear I have other business to attend to. You do understand, I hope. Hehe hehehe...”

And just like that, The Cat was gone.

The room suddenly felt colder as Reggie stood there with his temper turning over into sheer panic. He broke his frozen stance and rushed to get dressed in something appropriate and warm before sprinting out into the chilly night with a sense of complete urgency. He ran all the way to Alice's without stopping. The cold wind bit his face but he didn't care. Alice stood no chance in dealing with this crazy cat on her own, he thought. I just hope I'm not too late...

#wcmi #wcmi unofficial #WCMIunofficial #When curiosity met insanity #lewis carroll #cheshire cat #mad hatter #alice liddell #Alice In Wonderland #wonderland #Reggie Theophilus #Reginald L Theophilus III #Reginald Theophilus #curiouser and curiouser #alice #disney

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coolestqcumber · 6 years

Text

Warmth (Zimo - Awaken F)

Word Count: aprox. 1.6k

Warnings: violence, mentions of blood

Other notes: gang!au, ehhhhhh I know it feels a bit short and rushed but I hope the feels are still there

In the past, you always had people watching you. The cold stares glued to your back when you patrolled the alleys at night, waiting for a moment of vulnerability to pounce. However, that was different from the stare the barista was currently giving you. It was warm, and filled with adoration. You smacked your head and tried to focus on your studies.

A few hours later, you had successfully finished writing your paper. Before you left, you tucked a few bills between a napkin and jotted a quick note down to the barista.

“For Qin Zimo,

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come. - William Shakespeare

Nice try with the ‘free’ muffin today. I’m still paying.”

So maybe you did have a crush. Maybe you did come to this coffeeshop specifically on days when you knew he was working a shift. Maybe you purposely walked your dog around this part of town on the off-chance you would bump into him. Maybe you just wanted to feel normal again. Maybe you just wanted to feel again.

You were definitely feeling something again. It was unexplainable, the fluttering sensation you felt every time Zimo’s leg bumped against yours. The two of you had run into one another while you were out walking your dog. Now you were sitting closely together on a bench in the park and he was petting your puppy. XiaoGeZi (meaning ‘little pigeon’ in Chinese) was a small ball of white fur and the joy of your world. Zimo laughed as XiaoGeZi licked his face and you smiled. Whatever this foreign feeling was, you liked it.

You had expected things to change since you left the gang to attend college. But for a long time, it didn’t. The empty void in your heart the childlike innocence once occupied was stolen from remained coldly desolate, keeping you emotionless like the gang had trained you to be. Now, things were finally changing.

You almost couldn’t believe it, and yet here you were sitting in the cute barista’s apartment. Zimo had invited you over to his place to play videogames tonight. The two of you laughed uncontrollably throughout the evening, filling the night air with your friendly banter and shy flirting. The two of you bid your goodbyes as Zimo had to go work his shift at the coffeeshop and you returned home to take your dog out for a walk.

You skipped happily down the dark alleyway, heart filled with a warming sense of happiness. Even XiaoGeZi, who was always energetic, had a hard time keeping up with your enthusiastic pace. And in an instant, it was all gone. Chilling dread swept through your body, drowning out the positivity that had been humming through your veins just moments ago.

You felt the cold stares on the back of your back again. You had forgotten that, with the nice emotions you were familiarizing yourself with again, also came the negative emotions. And the worst of them all was Fear, who seemed to be trailing an icy finger along your back sending shivers down your spine.

“Run XiaoGeZi! Run! Run!” You hurriedly unclipped the leash and gave the puppy’s rear a harsh shove. The dog paused for a moment to look into your eyes with confusion before turning and running away. Away from you. And away from danger. You heard them scratch their knives against the wall and you pulled your own out from your waistband. “I see you still carry around that knife of yours,” the leader of the gang said. You spun the knife around in your hand, “What can I say? Old habits die hard.”

While you were still trapped in the back alley, your Little Pigeon had followed his nose to the familiar coffeeshop. It just so happened that Zimo had just finished his shift and was exiting the shop when the small ball of fluff bolted towards him. The puppy quickly latched his teeth onto the man’s pants and began to tug at it urgently.

“Kyulkyung,” you said softly. The name felt foreign on your tongue from the long time of disuse, and it made you slightly sad. The girl in question stepped into the light, her knife glinting. “What do you want?” you hissed, gripping the handle of your own knife. “To tie up loose ends. You know we have to do that, don’t you?” Cold sweat broke out on your forehead and Fear tightened it’s icy grip on you.

“I left the gang for a reason,” you said evenly. “And I haven’t done anything to expose you guys!” Kyulkyung casually cleaned her fingernails with the tip of her knife, “We’re moving operations to a different city.” She leveled her knife at you, “So we can’t take any risks.” You lifted your knife too. “Bring it on then.”

“Whoa, XiaoGeZi? What are you doing here? And where’s Y/n?” The dog yapped once at the man and then dashed off into the darkness. Zimo quickly ran after the puppy, fearing what he would find once they reached their destination.

You were panting from pain, pathetically laying on the ground. The hand pressed to the slash on your abdomen was doing nothing to stop the bleeding. Kyulkyung pressed her blade to your neck. “If you can survive this,” she nodded to the wound on your stomach, “Then you live, we won’t be coming back to bother you. I won’t kill you now because of all those times you saved my a$$ in the past.”

Kyulkyung pulled a necklace out of her pocket. It was a simple ring (the gang’s trademark ring) looped on a thin chain. She wrapped the chain around your fingers and closed your hand over the necklace. “If you ever decide that studying literature ain’t your thing and want to come back, just find us and use this.” You nodded weakly. But both of you knew you would never go back to the gang.

Kyulkyung hesitantly stood and lingered at your side, regret written all over her face. You tried to smile. “It’s okay, I’ll survive.” She nodded mutely and left. The other hooligans you once called friends trailing after her, leaving only the sound of their knives scraping against the wall.

Zimo freaked out once he found XiaoGeZi licking your face, desperately trying to keep you from passing out. In fact, Zimo was ready to pass out himself when he caught sight of the pool of blood that had collected on the pavement beside your stomach, which of course had a massive cut in it. He gently scooped you up bridal-style and XiaoGeZi led him back to your apartment (this was one smart dog).

Zimo took in the sight of you, staring in horror at the jagged hole in your abdomen. “Ohmygodohmygodohmy-” “Zimo!” you snapped, your vision was beginning to get fuzzy again. “Sorry, there’s just so much...blood,” he hurriedly pressed a towel to stanch the bleeding. “Well what do you think would be coming out of the gaping hole in my stomach? Jellybeans?!”

“Good lord, I think you need a doctor. Let’s take you to the hospital,” Zimo blabbered and moved to pick you up. You waved him off, “Not the hospital. I’ll get into a load of legal trouble if they find out I was attacked by a gang.” Zimo’s jaw dropped comedically. “A gang?” “Specifically the gang I used to be in,” you continued, slightly delirious from blood loss. “You were in a gang?!” You gave an exasperated sigh, “Now do you understand why I can’t go to the hospital?”

Zimo nodded solemnly,”I’ll just call Mubo, he’s a nurse but I think he should be able to stitch you up.” You then proceeded to blackout a bit before being woken by Zimo’s screaming. “Qinfen! You crackhead, give the phone to Mubo! Someone’s life is in danger-” “Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch,” you quickly interjected with a quote from Romeo and Juliet. “Just a scratch?!” Zimo screeched, “You’re whole shirt is soaked with blood.”

There was a heavy sigh on the other side of the phone and Mubo asked, “Is this that literature nerd girl you keep talking about?” Zimo wore an expression of total humiliation as you incredulously mouthed ‘literature nerd girl?’ He coughed awkwardly, “About that...it turns out she’s an ex-gang member and she ran into a bit of trouble. So could my favorite bro who’s a doctor please come over and stitch up my crush so I won’t be forever alone?” There was silence, and then “the things I do for you.” The phone clicked, signalling the end to the call. More silence. And then you groaned, “That has to be the sh!ttiest confession I’ve ever gotten. Like ever.”

Zimo nervously wandered around your bedroom, trying to keep himself from having a total meltdown. “Don’t worry, they won’t be coming back. They just wanted to give me a scare,” you assured him as you watched Zimo straighten the stack of textbooks on your desk. He pouted, “I think I was the only one they managed to scare.” You smiled tiredly, “Are you concerned about my well being?” His frown deepened, “So what if I am?” You laugh, causing a gush of blood to flow out of your wound, staining the towel pressed to it. Zimo let out a panicked squawk and commanded you to stay still. “Keep this up and I might actually fall for you,” you gasped out. He refused to meet your eyes, but you could see the blush rising to his cheeks. “I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

#qin zimo #idol producer #idol producer scenarios #oaca boys #awaken f #awaken f scenarios #cpop #cpop scenarios

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dimplesandcurlsss · 6 years

Note

Okay I think we may be in the same mood right now because i haven’t slept all night i have class in an hour and i finally have a moment to take a break from the paper I’m writing for uni and like every post on my dash is you and i’m rebloging every one like SAME! haha or it could be the sleep deprivation WHO KNOWS also just want to say you are the sweetest person and i love your writing p.s sorry for the long rant

omg i woke up at 2AM and literally could not go back to sleep so I started having a meltdown about my career and if ill ever find love and if im doomed to be a failure and all the posts on my dashboard were such a mood hahaha its so nice to know someone was there with me to witness the struggle and actually very comforting :) after all, if anything happens between 2-4AM then did it actually happen? hahah thanks so much for reading my work, lovely! hopefully we can both get some rest tonight!

#cookie-breaks

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mollymauk-teafleak · 7 years

Text

The Seal Lullaby: Chapter 4

Next chapter is live!

Thanks so much to @minky-for-short @childofdustandashes @purearcticfire Also, huge huge huge thanks to @brainypaperbullets @hollywoodx4 @arya-durin-77 for their amazing art, fantastically kind reviews and much needed support.

Feedback and comments would really mean the world, hope you enjoy!

Eliza had never been so happy to be exhausted.

She always looked forward to the walk from the tiny little bungalow that served the town’s elementary schoolers to her home. It gave her a chance to relax her mind after a busy day, wave hello and exchange pleasantries with the people she passed, remind herself just how beautiful this place was.

The dusk was gathering tonight as she strode along and she found herself immeasurably glad she’d remembered her scarf and gloves. As nice as summer had been, late November was proving to be a different kettle of fish entirely; one of these mornings, Eliza was certain she’d wake up to frost on the ground. Her azaleas weren’t going to like that at all.

She pulled her collar up a little higher as the walk to her isolated little cottage exposed her to the open sea which was kicking out a ferocious, heavy, wet bluster that seemed to reach under every protective layer of clothing she had to raise goose bumps on her skin. If she got sick, she was going to be so miffed; she had so much fun stuff planned for her class for the holidays and really didn’t fancy dressing up like Rudolph on the last day of school or organising a times table themed chocolate coin treasure hunt with a stuffed-up nose and headache. She was already feeling much more worn out than usual, although that probably had more to do with having her first nine to five, Monday to Friday job ever.

But it was a tiredness she could be proud of and she wouldn’t trade it for anything. If this was the cost of having the tiny class of tiny third graders look at her with such trust and devotion, having all twelve of them (it was a small town, there weren’t that many children to speak of) hanging off her skirt at playtime, bringing her little sprigs of the rough lavender that grew along the edges of the yard which she dutifully tucked into her ponytail, coming to her when a particularly hard piece of homework had them feeling down on themselves for hugs and reassurance. It was a price she was more than willing to pay, she’d never felt so driven or invigorated about anything, she’d never been so sure that she was doing exactly what she’d been built for.

The instant embrace of warmth and a familiar cosy scent as soon as she pushed back the front door (it always jammed a little, you had to shove it hard with one shoulder) only strengthened her good mood.

“Babe?” she called, stripping off her sodden coat and wilting knitwear, speckled with raindrops that would hopefully dissipate in the heat, “I’m back.”

The fact that Alex wasn’t immediately hurrying out from wherever he’d tucked himself away, hugging her and demanding details about her day and covering her face in kisses and wrapping himself around her like a koala in an attempt to warm her back up, that was her first clue that something was up. Her second clue was the realisation that the fire wasn’t on, the smell of burning and the slight sooty haze in the air were actually coming from the kitchen. Her third clue was the smoke alarm suddenly flaring to life with a panicked, skittish beeping.

That was all the incentive she needed.

“Alex?” Eliza’s voice was significantly more panicked as she dashed into their poky kitchen to see her husband coughing and spluttering in a plume of black smoke that had apparently just poured from the opened oven.

“Oh, hey Betsey,” he croaked back, hacking into the back of his hand but still attempting a light, casual tone, “Did you have a good day at work?”

Eliza gaped at him, going to throw open the windows and grabbing a dishcloth to wave the smoke away, “Uh, fine? Thanks? What on earth are you trying to burn down our house for?”

“I…um…” he looked sheepish, his hands wringing behind his back as he took a step back to shamefacedly watch Eliza swoop in and quickly retrieve the source of the trouble; a baking dish that held something that looked more volcanic than edible.

“I…I was trying to make you dinner?” he confessed in a small voice, both of them looking in bewilderment at the blackened sludge in the dish.

“You…” Eliza processed this slowly, “And what exactly were you trying to make?”

Alex paused for a long time, looking at his feet, “Mac and cheese?”

There was another, heavy pause before Eliza couldn’t hold back any longer and burst out laughing, having to drop the culinary disaster and clutch the counter for support as tears that had nothing to do with the smoke in the air streamed down her face.

After a while, Alex couldn’t help but join in. There was something pretty hilarious about the situation, even he could see that.

Eliza was still chuckling even after the dish had been abandoned to the trash can outside and the open windows had taken care of most of the smog. The little glass window in the oven was probably always going to be stained black from now on but they could live with that.

“I really am sorry,” Alex said for the fiftieth time, though he was smiling. He was pulling out ingredients for his second attempt, this time with supervision, “I have no idea how I messed up that badly.”

“It’s okay,” Eliza insisted fondly, rubbing his arm as she passed by to get another mixing bowl, “it was so sweet of you to want to cook for me. You could have just waited though, I’d love to teach you how to cook?”

Alex shifted a little, looking coy, “But that’s not how it’s supposed to work.”

Eliza turned, giving him a careful glance, “Not how what’s supposed to work, exactly?”

Alex rubbed the back of his neck, getting some flour in his long, dark hair, “Well…I’m your mate, right? I’m supposed to provide for you, I’m supposed to get you food and shelter and all that. I thought, seeing as I can’t just go out and snag a fish in my jaws, this was the next best thing? Except I ruined it…”

Eliza tilted her head, a fond smile growing on her face. She wandered over to him, caught a little flour on one forefinger and dabbed it on the tip of his nose playfully, chasing away his forlorn expression.

“It’s a little different up here, Alex,” she smiled, “We’re a team, okay? We work together. Although…” she rose up on her tiptoes to press a gentle kiss to his mouth, “It is incredibly sweet of you.”

Alex was blushing now, grinning goofily in that way she knew and loved, “Even though I nearly burned our house down?”

“Ah, what’s a little light arson in a marriage?” Eliza shrugged nonchalantly, grinning, “I’m sure most first time homeowners have to deal with a mild nuclear meltdown occurring in their oven?”

The sarcasm wasn’t lost on Alex, he was losing his explicitly literal nature, “I’m never living this down, am I?”

“Absolutely not,” Eliza kissed him again, already thinking of how she was going to retell this little escapade in the most exciting way in her next email to her sisters.

Alex kissed her back, winding his arms around her waist lovingly, anchoring her against him, drawing out every second of contact until they had to break apart for air.

“Come on,” now it was Eliza’s turn to blush and squirm under Alex’s intensely loving gaze, wriggling away to turn back to the scales, “You’ve got me hungry for mac and cheese now, show me what you can do.”

Eliza quickly saw where Alex had been going wrong, with the amount of times she had to stop him from just tipping an avalanche of salt into the sauce or remind him that water needed heat under it to boil. He apparently forgot after two seconds that there was a recipe he was supposed to be following and the instincts he followed instead were a little…misguided?

They had a lot of fun though, ending up with bright smiles and flour handprints scattered across their clothing (not to mention two matching ones on the seat of Alex’s jeans that Eliza crossed her heart and swore weren’t her doing), eating pasta from the dish set between the two of them on the table.

“This is really really good Alex!” Eliza made sure to shower him with compliments to soothe his bruised ego, “Honestly, it’s amazing.”

Alex gave her a rueful smile, suspecting what she was doing but not particularly minding, “I’ll get better. But this is an okay start.”

“Better than okay,” Eliza shook her head, spearing some more on her fork, she really was ravenous after working all day, “Perfect.”

He pulled a face at her, earning one right back until they both dissolved into giggles. They kept eating, chatting companionably.

“So…seeing as being a world-famous chef might be just a little bit out of your reach?” Eliza smiled teasingly, “Did you have any more thoughts about sending off your manuscript?”

Alex shifted, his cheeks reddening a little. It had taken weeks and weeks of persuasion and promises not to laugh for him to give over the pages he’d been scribbling on for a while now, whenever his wife was at work or on the frequent nights he couldn’t sleep. When Eliza had finally been allowed to read it, she’d been stunned.

It was like long form narrative poetry, something Joyce-esque with a shifting, mesmerising plot that could never really be nailed down, only in the most teasingly imperceptible way of a voyage and a struggle and a searching. He wrote the way he ran, the way he swam and sang to himself in the shower and made love to her. Like someone from another reality. It was so beautiful, there’d been tears in Eliza’s eyes by the time she’d finished.

Her father had a lot of friends in publishing, it made sense for a politician to have an in with the people who dispensed knowledge. The offer to send it to one of them, to see if they’d want to actually print it, was one of the first things that sprang to her mind. Alex had reacted with pleased embarrassment, books were things of real magic and power to him and the idea that he could produce one himself was absurd flattery. But Eliza had been perfectly serious, she was still perfectly serious, the stuff Alex wrote in just a month or so was the stuff people studied and students poured over for years. He’d eventually sighed and groaned and rolled his eyes but promised to think it over.

Now, he huffed in resignation, he’d been anticipating her bringing this up again, “I just don’t think that one’s good enough, maybe if I had time to write something different I could put more effort in…”

But Eliza had been anticipating this too, she knew her Alex well. He’d insist that it wasn’t ready, that he just needed more time, he just needed to tweak it, until they ended up never taking any steps forward. She opened her mouth, a firm but gentle argument ready and perched on her tongue but her stomach gave a sudden and violent lurch, turning it all into just a soft, anxious squeak.

“Eliza?” Alex said cautiously, not at all liking the way her expression suddenly fell and her skin took on this green tinge.

“God damn it,” Eliza groaned softly, a cold sweat breaking over her forehead as she dropped her fork and leapt to her feet, just about making it to the bathroom, heaving and retching into the toilet.

Alex’s heart dropped and he went after her, cursing himself. First, he’d created a miniature volcano, then he’d gone and poisoned his wife, he couldn’t fucking do anything right…

He was never much good with illness, it was hardly the biggest problem out there in the ocean, humans were much more fragile, but he did what he could, gently rubbing between Eliza’s shoulder blades and keeping the long trailing ends of her braids safe from harm. He murmured soft, sorrowful apologies as he helped her move gingerly until she was slumped against the wall, groaning.

“It’s not your fault,” she breathed, her voice trembling and weak, “I knew this damn weather would make me sick, I always get flu when it’s cold…”

Alex gave a mirthless laugh as he passed her a hastily poured glass of water, “And I bet you always get food poisoning when you eat food made by a complete moron.”

She gave him a look over the rim of the glass, warning him off. She never let him get away with any self-deprecating comment.

“I’m telling you, there’s nothing wrong with your food…the second time,” she made the amendment quietly and quickly, “You watch, next it’ll be a blocked nose then a headache, I’ll feel sorry for myself for a few days and then I’ll be totally fine.”

Alex still looked fretful, still holding her braid, toying with it anxiously. Eliza caught his hand in her own, squeezing reassuringly.

“Totally fine. I promise,” she gave him a rough, tired smile.

“Totally fine,” Alex echoed, nodding and trying to relax.

As it happened, they were both wrong.

“Wait I’m…what?”

The doctor on the other end of the phone was still talking but Eliza wasn’t hearing any of it. She’d thought they were calling to tell her that her tests came back completely fine, that it was just a nasty flu and she could just take some pills or whatever and clear it right up. That’s what she’d told Alex, at least, when he’d begun to seriously panic after about a week of her throwing up and not being able to get out of bed until midday and getting dizzy at odd moments. He’d been insufferable to the point that she’d gone to her appointment with the doctor’s, a generous handful of miles away from their isolated little fishing village, alone.

She could see him out of the corner of her eye, shifting anxiously on the sofa and watching her, studying her face. She realised her expression right now must be terrifying him but she just couldn’t change it.

The doctor kept saying that word in a gentle, understanding, congratulatory voice but every time she said it, it made less and less sense to Eliza. She just wanted her to stop talking really, go away and let her process this, the buzz of information was turning her neutral confusion into out and out panic. Finally, mercifully, she went, Eliza finding herself promising to come in the day after tomorrow for a follow up, nodding along at mentions of weights and measuring and plans and procedures, until she was left with a dial tone.

“What did they say?” the words were out of Alex’s mouth the second the phone slipped from Eliza’s ear to hang limply at her side.

“Um…” Eliza blinked, feeling very far away from her surroundings, the shock playing tricks with her perspective as it has a way of doing.

“Is it flu?” his voice was stained with panic that he was making no effort to hide, “Or iron deficiency? Stomach ulcers?”

Eliza sighed softly, coming over to sit by him, finding it easier to deal with his fright than her own shock, “Baby, I told you not to read those old medical journals, they’re a little grisly…”

Alex didn’t seem to notice the gentle rebuke, his hand scrambled like an injured bird to catch hold of hers, “Eliza, I’m scared, what did the doctor say?”

Eliza ran her thumb over his knuckles, trying to bring him back down. If he fell apart, she’d go right with him and then there’d be no hope.

“Alex, I’m not dying, I haven’t got a disease.” That much was true, anyway.

“Then what is it?” Alex let go of a little of his worry, just a little, he could still see the distress in her eyes as clear as day.

Eliza wasn’t quite sure how to phrase this, her mind was stalling and stuttering like the thought was too hot to pick up and she flinched away from it every time she touched it.

“You told me that there were…stories? Of people like us, Selkies and humans that bonded?” she spoke carefully, not letting go of his hand.

Alex blinked in confusion, sitting back on his heels. He rationalised that if Eliza was asking him about folktales and songs, then there couldn’t exactly be a disaster on the horizon.

“Yeah, there are some songs,” Alex nodded, shifting closer to her to rest his head on her shoulder, “I don’t know how true they are but that’s the only way my people pass on any kind of history.”

Some part of Eliza’s brain that hadn’t quite caught up with the rest of her wondered if that was why her husband had such a talent for writing, for constructing these amazing, epic poems that seemed almost tangible. It was what he was used to. Did Selkies trade around such beautiful lyrical verses like casual conversation? Eliza couldn’t even imagine it.

She swallowed, tucking her legs up so she was closer to him, “And…did they have happy endings? Those songs and the people in them?”

Alex frowned, “Not a lot of our stories do, sweetheart.”

That was the truth, a life spent avoiding predators and constantly facing starvation or destruction, a life of being hunted didn’t tend to produce happy fairy tales.

“Oh…” That wasn’t the answer she wanted and Alex could tell.

“Eliza?” he breathed, begging now, begging quietly for reassurance that she was okay because he was starting to seriously doubt that she was.

Eliza closed her eyes tight, shrinking down into herself a little, “Alex, were there…did they…”

He clung to her hand, sensing her slipping away.

“Were there children in those stories?”

The words jumped out of her once they were found, making her recoil a little, like they had physical force behind them.

Alex tilted his head, “Yes. In some of them…” Realisation sank in and his eyes widened, his jaw dropping a little.

Eliza faced down his gaze, her lower lip starting to tremble as the truth as yet unspoken struck both of them.

“You’re pregnant?” Alex, always the bravest with emotion despite the consequences, was the one who finally said it. It had a question mark at the end but it wasn’t a question. There was no doubt.

“Yes,” Eliza nodded, her mouth now downturned and shaking, tears creeping up on her with an unstoppable approach. She didn’t want to be crying. She didn’t want Alex to think this wasn’t what she wanted, it was, in some very real way it was. But at the same time, she was scared. God, damn it, she was terrified. She was twenty one and so far from home and everything she’d known up until this point, being faced with the idea that she could do something as raw and significant as have a child, that she had a whole other soul and life to take care of. She’d never been so scared in all her life and now what would Alex think when he saw her on the verge of sobbing at the discovery that they’d made a life together?

As it happened, what he did was he wrapped his arms around her, pressing her against him so she felt nothing but his warmth and his strength and the pounding of his heart.

“Eliza, I love you,” he whispered, his words holding as much truth and power and beauty as she found in his writing, like he was pouring out his soul to her. Even more intense for the fact that it was held in four words rather than fourteen pages, like it obeyed the physical laws of force dissipated over a larger surface area.

And then she was crying, sobbing against his chest, dissolving and surrendering to her emotion but knowing now that it was okay. Alex was holding her, he’d bring her back once it was over. She was safe with him.

His long, careful fingers stroked her hair and his arms rocked her and his gentle voice murmured words in her ear as she cried her eyes out, asking nothing of her, just giving her space and security to deal with this. And when she was through to the other side, he just held her face and kissed the burning salt from her cheeks and rested his forehead against her own.

And Eliza felt like a different person. She felt like someone strong enough to do this. As long as there would always be those arms to hold her and that voice in her ear. As long as she had her mate, her Alex.

Eliza’s shaky hands left his shoulders and settled on her own belly. Of course, there was nothing there yet, nothing physical. But she felt the spark all the same, she felt the presence of someone reaching back.

“Betsey?” Alex murmured softly, daring to hope.

A slow smile spread across Eliza’s face, crinkling her red, bloodshot eyes and lifting her flushed, blotchy cheeks. And, as far as her husband was concerned, she’d never looked more beautiful.

“We’re going to be parents,” she laughed, a delighted and bewildered sound, “I’m going to have a baby, we’re going to be parents!”

Alex started to laugh too, his thumbs running along her cheekbones, “Yeah. Yeah, we are, you beautiful, gorgeous, perfect, amazing woman…”

Eliza blushed under his praise and the messy, hurried kisses that followed, their lips crashing together with no finesse or care, their feelings too raw to bother about such things. Eliza tipped backwards, pulling Alex with her. She laughed, her voice rasping, as she stroked his hair while his kisses travelled down her body until his head rested over her stomach, resting his forehead against her skin like he’d done with her just moments ago. Saying his first hello to whoever was in there.

Alex smiled and closed his eyes, certain, despite all medical science, that he could hear a tiny second heartbeat under the more familiar thud of Eliza’s. A thought occurred to him in that moment, a thought he’d share with Eliza later as she braced herself to call her parents, as his fingers soothingly massaged her shoulders.

Selkie stories didn’t have happy endings.

But theirs would.

Eliza stood on the threshold of their cottage, stood on her tiptoes and waved, the wind whipping her dress and hair into a storm around her, but still she stayed until the car had crested the hill and dipped out of sight. Even then she lingered a little, until it got too cold and she couldn’t ignore the goose bumps rising on her skin, until she heard Alex’s voice calling her back. She gave a small, fond smile; he’d been agonising over her nearly constantly in an endearing, protective way.

Over them both, she thought to herself, her smile widening. Her hand gently skirted over the swell in her woollen dress.

Eliza came back inside and sat down heavily on the sofa with a bone deep sigh of relief, her head lolling back and her eyes closing. As glad as she was that the rift she’d opened in her family was completely healed, as happy as she was to have the chance to show them her new life that she’d build for herself and how comfortable she was now, she still was so, so glad they were gone.

That was family, she supposed.

Time, distance, Angelica and Peggy’s mediating and the fact that they had their first grandchild on the way, the combined weight of all these factors was enough to bring her parents down here for a visit. It had been a little stiff, a little awkward, some pointed questions had needed dodging but Eliza thought that only added to the success of it. Enough to satisfy them that she’d made the right decision but enough to make them keep their distance, to not feel the need to micromanage her life the way they did with Angelica (despite the fact that she didn’t need it) and Peggy (despite the fact that she didn’t listen). Her two sisters had come down too, made themselves invaluable as ever, acted as a buffer to soothe their parents’ fears and Eliza’s exasperation. But of course, what had really made the reconciliation an inevitability had been the sight of Eliza cradling her small but noticeable, fourth month old bump. Her parents melted instantly.

“You little miracle worker,” she murmured softly, not opening her eyes. She always felt that they could hear her better when she was focusing on nothing but the sensation of them under her fingers. Whenever Eliza talked to them- which was very, very often- she did it with closed eyes and a small, enigmatic smile.

She heard Alex’s footsteps coming down the rickety stairs, the sound of bare soles on uneven wood, his airy voice singing to himself under his breath. Music was another human concept he’d latched onto almost obsessively, though he claimed it was a little lacking compared to the kind of lyrics he’d heard before he walked on two legs. All the same, he treasured the vinyl record player she’d brought with them from Albany, he’d play a record over and over until he was sickened on it. For the last few days it was Edith Piaf who’d stolen his heart in particular. Eliza didn’t mind, she’d owned that box of records since she was fifteen, she loved every song in that box with a deep, nostalgic adoration. And she was finding the melancholy, the memories of lying on her bed as a teenager and finding solace in these songs, extremely comforting in her pregnancy.

Just yesterday, when the blues she couldn’t quite pinpoint or tangle her way out of had caught hold of her, the lowness and discomfort her doctor just shook her head and explained away as a normal symptom, Alex had known exactly what to do. He’d taken hold of her hands and pulled her into the kitchen, taking her around the floor in a kind of slow, careful waddling waltz that was all she could manage right now but it had brought Eliza back into the light in moments. They’d ended up making slow, gentle love against the wall with that gorgeous, lilting music still accompanying their movements and Eliza had ended up crying from the beauty of it, how happy she was.

And it left Alex always singing. That she loved more than anything. His voice lent itself well to song, it was raspy and it snapped in places and some notes wandered away but it was real and it had so much more feeling to it than she’d ever heard. She could listen to her Alex sing all day long.

She opened her eyes to watch him, laughing in amusement but not surprise when she saw he’d stripped right down to his boxers. He never was going to get the hang of clothes.

Eliza could almost actually see the stress and anxiety trail out of him, like ribbons of steam leaving a burning hot surface, she was so relieved. She knew having her whole family come to visit had been the most she’d ever asked of him. The weight of fabricating a whole life, a childhood spent in this town, running into Eliza at college, falling in love, a whirlwind proposal, having to keep all the little tics and habits that made him himself in check, hold himself awkwardly, like he was balancing a book on his head for the entire day, it had almost been too much. They’d had to pull away for an hour or so in the middle of the day, under the pretence of Eliza needing a nap, for her to just sit with his head in her lap, stroking his hair and rocking him, loving on him every way she knew how. She knew it made him feel like an outsider, to have to play this part. Talking art with her mother and listening to her father’s political rants he’d happily dispense to anyone who showed a passing interest, hiding so much of himself and who he was, it all just reminded him with a painful sharpness that he didn’t fit.

But he’d done it for her. And he’d done so well, her parents had gone from eyeing him distrustfully to shaking his hand and smiling warmly in the space of six hours, that in itself was no mean feat.

Eliza poured every scrap of love she could find into the gaze she gave him as her weary husband came and knelt in the space between her legs, resting his head against her stomach and breathing in a sigh so deep it must have made his ribs ache.

“My brave, beautiful man,” Eliza cooed softly, bending over him, “My hero.”

Alex gave a small laugh, her voice tired, “That went well.”

“It went better than well, Alex, they loved you!” she praised him generously, knowing it would be like a balm on his raw anxiety, “They probably like you more than me! You had them laughing and you answered all their questions perfectly and…and, baby, I’m so proud of you…”

“I’m just glad it’s done,” he mumbled, catching her hand and pressing his lips to her palm, “If I’m allowed to say that.”

“Honey, I am right there with you,” Eliza reassured him with a gentle laugh, “That’s satisfied my desire to see my family for…the next twelve years, I’d say.”

Alex snickered along with her, the giggling, bubbling laughter of relief at the end of a long journey, as social batteries recharged and familiarity returned. He took his kisses over to her stomach, that had been the focus of his attentions recently, like it was the centre of his universe.

“Your daddy did pretty good, huh?” he grinned, his voice gentle, “Didn’t do a half bad job passing as human?”

Eliza laughed, Alex was as talkative with their unborn baby as he was with anyone. She loved it, actually, held onto the thought that their child would be born knowing their father’s voice like a precious coin. Like a lighthouse’s glare.

“You did amazingly, Alex, I can’t thank you enough,” Eliza answered for their little one.

He gave her a sleepy smile, looking proud of himself. And that was all Eliza could ever have asked for. That was part of loving someone so completely, she’d realised, having them love themselves being as necessary your own oxygen. Needing them to see and know everything amazing that made you love them.

“I have an idea,” she said quietly, grinning.

Alex tilted his head, quizzically, “Yeah?”

The only answer she gave him was to gingerly get to her feet, waving at him to stay put.

“Eliza?” he narrowed his eyes, “Baby, you shouldn’t be on your feet, c’mon, just tell me and I’ll do it…”

Eliza shot him a warning look, “Sweetheart, if you don’t calm down you’re going to have a heart attack before the baby even gets here. I can walk up stairs, okay? Now shush and stay put.”

Alex dropped back down onto his ass, scowling and folding his arms. A combination of the two things he hated the most, having his pregnant wife moving around when he could be fetching and carrying for her. And not knowing what was going on.

He sulked half-heartedly until he heard her soft voice coming from upstairs. He was up and moving in a heartbeat, only skidding to a halt when he pushed back their bedroom door and saw what she’d made for him.

This time he didn’t need prompting. He took her hand and pulled her into the blanket fort that was taking up most of the floor space, curling up with her gladly, back in the soft, warm glow of the place they’d both first discovered exactly what it was they had. This was one thing that hadn’t gotten away from them, however far they’d come in such a short space of time.

“Thank you, Eliza,” he sighed for the millionth time, his face happily buried in her hair.

“I thought you could use some space,” she replied with a satisfied smile, her eyes closed and her head pillowed on the lower part of his stomach so he could koala himself around her in the way he liked to do.

“I kind of did, yeah,” he laughed at the understatement, shaking his head a little at her canny.

Eliza’s smile turned a little wicked as she made up her mind that they’d been lying here cuddling for long enough, “I think I have something else you could use.”

Alex blinked in confusion, making a soft noise of perplexity, until he felt her hands pulling his boxers down his legs.

“Betsey…” he breathed, heat pooling in the base of his stomach as her warm breath touched the most intimate part of him.

The unpredictability of her hormones had given them both a lot of sleepless nights recently but Alex had rarely found himself on the receiving end. Not that he minded at all, he enjoyed giving as much as anything and felt so relieved to have a problem he knew and enjoyed fixing.

Eliza felt his hesitation as her hands rested on his hips. She looked up at him, her eyes catching the low light, “Alex? Sweetheart, we don’t have to, I just want to bring you back to yourself a little? I just want to make you feel good…”

What she really wanted was to show him how loved he was, human or not, how none of that mattered to her and what they’d been through today didn’t mean that fitting in with her family was a condition of her wanting to be with him. If her mother and father had taken one look at him and spat on the ground in disgust, it wouldn’t have changed a thing. It was nothing more than convenience; her love was tied to something much deeper and unshakable.

But that was a little too complicated to say. She just hoped it came across in the way she ran her fingers across his skin.

Alex answered with his hands tangling in her hair, a silent gesture of permission. By the time, Eliza was finished with him, after she’d broken him with her mouth, turned him around and put him back together, again with her mouth, they were exhausted. Sleep came easily, all worries and anxieties forgotten, replaced with closeness and warmth.

Alex and Eliza were finding that sometimes they didn’t need words.

Summer couldn’t come back around sooner for Eliza.

As much as she’d loved the months that had gone by, as fun as it had been introducing Alex to the concept of Christmas, celebrating the new year with the knowledge that one of the top publishers in New York city, a close personal friend of Senator Schuyler, had accepted Alex’s submission and already asked for more. Something about the concept of a reclusive, postmodern poet scribbling away his tomes in some salt burned corner of Oregon had a rustic magic to it that the intellectuals of the city couldn’t get enough of, positive reviews were flooding in. Alex didn’t have a clue what half of the words people used to describe his work meant but the advance cheque would easily cover the cost of a crib and paint for the nursery so, frankly, he couldn’t care less. And Eliza was proud of him.

As much as she loved spring, seeing her new flowers coming through and getting to feel the sun on her skin again and some blue return to the sky rather than near constant grey so monotonous that the clouds and the sea seemed to run into one, unending canvas. Seeing the buds studding their careful, delicate trails across the open palms of the tree branches had broken her out of a day’s long slump and made her laugh for no reason other than flowers were beautiful and she was happy.

But Eliza found herself more than ready for summer. Not just for being free of work, of standing on her swollen ankles and fighting her instincts to do nothing all day but curl up and nap, but for the freedom of having nothing in the world to do but wait. She was unlike Alex in that way. While he was in a constant state of restless, impatient shifting, ticking the days off on the calendar, she was more than happy to enjoy the waiting. She’d always had the personal philosophy that there was nothing she could do to make time go faster, so it was much better just to watch it flow past at its own pace. There was comfort in the inevitability, the certain future. So, she was the one who chuckled affectionately and ruffled Alex’s hair and kissed the back of his neck, reminding him that the baby would come when they were ready and not before. He was the one who huffed and sighed exaggeratedly, more in performance than anything, whining about the infuriatingly long gestation periods for humans and groaning that he was going to explode if he had to wait another second. It was a fun, familiar little routine they had, resolving nothing between them.

Both of them were relieved when Eliza’s first day of vacation arrived, when they went to bed safe in the knowledge that they could stay there as long as they liked and not a damn thing could make them move. Despite their shared sleepiness, they stayed up late, making love in an almost defiant, celebratory way.

Eliza had discovered a deep, ravenous delight in watching Alex pleasure himself. She could lose herself in moments, in how his tight, lithe body rolled and rocked as if to music, how his hands moved like they had minds of their own, brushing lightly and teasing and palming before suddenly gripping and striking with enough force to make him shriek, seemingly without any command from Alex himself. He took such uncomplicated joy in performing for her, emphasising every single movement so she didn’t miss anything, making loud, exaggerated noises and throwing himself into it until his hair came loose and clung to his damp face, riding as many fingers as she instructed him while stroking himself off, moving with such wanton need but still denying himself if she asked it, only finishing on her express command. That night she worked him hard, repeatedly, until he was a mess and her own body was screaming for some attention, practically pouncing on him when she finally let herself go, gripping his shoulders and dragging him between her legs.

If Alex and Eliza hadn’t finally fallen asleep so exhausted and satisfied and happy, the storm would have woken them for sure; Alex wasn’t fond of storms and Eliza was a light sleeper these days. But, as it happened, they managed to sleep on for a few hours as the rain began beating its rapid tattoo against the windows and the wind started up its angry, robust howl and their little cottage swayed under the furious pacing of the storm around the bay.

What eventually woke Eliza was the sudden, sharp pressure against her skin, flinging her back into consciousness with a sensation not unlike she’d fallen from a great height and struck the ground with sickening force. She moaned groggily, shifting out of Alex’s arms, jolting him awake too, just in time to scream hoarsely as lightning turned their room into a negative of itself.

Eliza forgot her own discomfort in an instant, taking hold of Alex’s arms and snapping his gaze to her, “No, no, sweetheart, it’s okay, it’s only the storm…my love, it’s okay, you’re safe…”

Alex’s breathing was ragged and his eyes were fixed on the window, awash with so many raindrops they blurred into one solid sheet like melted glass. There was a rumble of thunder, partner to the lightning and he moaned, trembling.

“I don’t like storms, I don’t like storms, I don’t like storms,” the rapid, garbled chanting replaced his breathing, his fingers turned to white jointed claws in his tangle of hair.

Another burst from outside and the harsh, excruciating light fell across his angular face. And for the briefest of seconds his teeth looked longer and tapered to points, his eyes became solid black, there were shadows across his cheekbones that weren’t there before, sharp and predatory and…fearsome. Eliza actually withdrew, before her brain could pull her back, her hands flying from his shoulders to wrap around her swollen belly protectively. It was just how her body reacted.

The moment that drew out between them was sickening. Alex watching his wife flinch away from him in fear. Eliza seeing his fear and panic turning him into something neither of them recognised, her body betraying her. Eyes wide, hearts stopping, bile rising in throats. And a thought shared between the two of them; please god no, take it back, take it back…

Then Eliza doubled over, a sudden pinching sensation forcing another groan from her, sweat beading along her hairline and between her shoulder blades.

“Eliza?” Alex’s stomach went into freefall, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

And the moment was forgotten, it was gone, like it never happened. They both somehow knew it needed to be that way, letting it disintegrate with no protest. It wasn’t like either of them wanted to hang on to it.

“I’m fine,” she took deep, rapid breaths of air, running her hands over her skin, “They’re just kicking.”

“Are you sure?” Alex’s anxiety had taken a backseat, a little happy for something else to focus on even as his fretful father to be instincts went into overdrive, “What if it’s, y’know, it?”

“We still have about a month, baby,” Eliza tried not to sound like she was convincing him, stroking his bare arm and hoping the darkness hid how ashy her skin had turned, “They don’t have a whole lot of room in there and they mustn’t feel like sleeping- “

She was interrupted by another loud shout from the sky that seemed to shake the ground underneath their little home. And a beat later by another hard kick from the baby, a little too rough and sudden to let her hold back the pained yelp.

“Ow…” she whimpered, her eyes tightly closed.

Alex gave a small, worried croon, shuffling forward on his knees and placing shaky palms against her stomach, frowning a little at how hot and thin it felt, even more compared to his own cool skin.

“I…I don’t think they like the storm…” he murmured thoughtfully, vaguely, like the mechanics of his brain were still clicking even as he spoke, “I think they’re scared…”

Eliza’s bottom lip trembled, ache and exhaustion and tenderness bringing tears to her eyes. Her hands rested over Alex’s, the teardrops gradually dripping from her chin to dampen the outward curve of her nightdress, “Scared? Oh no, honey, it’s okay, please don’t be scared.”

All she got in response was another forceful kick that rattled her ribs; Alex had to catch her and gently ease her down onto her back, she couldn’t move herself until the crest of it had passed.

“I feel like this is my fault,” Alex’s eyes were wide and unhappy. His own reaction to the storm had been abandoned, all he cared about now was his child’s.

“Oh, Alex,” Eliza sighed softly, her voice trembling just a little.

“No, I mean it,” he looked so forlorn, like he’d reached an uncomfortable conclusion, as he carefully settled himself next to her with the tension of someone standing guard rather than going to sleep, “The…strength and the storm and everything…this is me, this is my half, they’re like this because of me…”

Eliza couldn’t hear any more, couldn’t see that expression on his face any more. She shushed him gently and reached out to take his face between her hands, like before, but less of a frantic snatch away from the edge and more of a gentle pull towards the warmth.

“Hey,” she whispered, her fingers resting over his lips, soft and split from the cold and the temperature of a pebble pulled from the shoreline.

“Hey,” he answered, recognising her little signal to ease his grip on what was bothering him, give her the chance to take it from him.

“You know what else our baby is going to get from you?” she tilted her head, eyes sparkling in the shifting light. The moonlight split into scattered handfuls of shards, held within her iris.

Alex shook his head, easing himself closer so Eliza could drag the duvet back over them from where his thrashing had sent it to the floor.

“Well,” she rested her head on his chest, “Personally? I hope they have your lovely thick eyelashes. I hope they get your wonderful tawny skin. Your smile that uses your whole face and makes the bridge of your nose wrinkle up. And your kind heart and your curiosity and your reckless capacity for love.”

Alex was the one crying now, his eyelids fluttering as tears beaded on his lashes, as his thin shoulders shook with a mix of giggles and snuffles. But Eliza knew, as she smiled tenderly and covered his face in kisses, he was okay again.

There was more thunder and more lightning, the seconds between them climbing as the storm’s anger dissipated but with each one there was a powerful lurch inside Eliza that left her trembling and breathing hard so she didn’t scare Alex even more. She had it under control now, it wasn’t the discomfort, it was the idea that her precious little cargo was frightened and there was nothing she could do about it.

“It’ll pass, the storms leaving sweetie, it’s going,” Eliza whispered, curling into Alex, trying to keep the hard roundness of their baby tucked safe between the warmth of its parents.

“I have an idea,” Alex had been unusually silent for a while, just holding her, kneading her lower back to try and help with the pressure, “Might not work but…if my weird ass genes caused the problem, I can maybe fix it.”

Eliza opened her mouth to shoot down his choice of words but he was gone, ducking under the quilt. She turned over a little, gingerly, shifting her significant weight, trying to figure out what his plan was exactly. He’d been caressing her stomach for the past ten minutes without it having it’s usual impact, what on earth was he doing?

Eliza froze as soon as she heard his voice, his gentle, quiet singing, muffled a little with the blankets and the racket outside but still sounding so clear as if it originated from inside her own chest. This was nothing from her old records, it wasn’t listed on the back of any dust jacket in that case, this was nothing from her world at all. The language he sang in was constructed for another set of vocal cords, another medium and another time. It was unmistakably a lullaby, it had the right texture and lilt, dropping to almost a whisper at the end of each verse and easing through the cadence, rocking and swelling in an expressive mimicry of the movement of a mother’s arms. Or the roll of the waves. Eliza didn’t understand the words but as she listened, images were painted upon her mind that hadn’t come from her, light refracted through green water and seaweed tracing a thoughtful dance in the current and a slight tipping of perspective, looking at the world through a different angle. Within the confines of Alex’s song, up was down, down was up, gravity was nothing more than a slight compression against a gentle floating sensation, sight was useless but the nose, ears, fingertips were alive.

It was haunting.

But the baby growing inside her settled within a few lines, the pinching and the pressure eased into a soft pattering as they searched for their father’s voice, finding his hands and placing their tiny palms against his own. Even as more thunder and more lightning rocked the cottage, their nameless little one was still, soothed into sleep. Before much longer the storm broke and the weather let go of whatever grudge had riled it, leaving nothing more than a slightly sullen rainfall. Alex let go of the song, it seemed to have no natural end but just left his throat to continue on somewhere else, out of their reach.

He kissed Eliza’s belly, murmuring, “You be nice to your mama, okay, try not to hurt her for me? You both need some sleep now. I love you.”

He resurfaced, expecting a kiss or at least a grateful smile, his own a little bashful. What he found, to the breaking of his heart, was Eliza’s face twisted in grief and pain, tears flowing down her heart shaped face, following the exact shadows that the rain and the moonlight were tracing on her skin.

“Eliza?” he breathed, reaching out for her.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked, twisting her eyes shut as if to hide from him what he’d already seen, “It’s not…I mean…”

Alex sat up, gently easing her over to him so her head was cradled against his chest, “You can tell me? Please?” He couldn’t help if he didn’t know.

So many times, in the past eight months he’d been forced to accept a truth that sat bitterly with him, that some problems Eliza had he just couldn’t take away. All he could do was nod and hold her while she cried over the unfairness of throwing up every single morning and having to pull six hour shifts with no coffee or being unable to doze on her stomach like she loved to do on lazy Saturday mornings while Alex read the paper and fed her bits of toast. Little things that didn’t seem to hold that much importance at first glance but still she wept and the fact that she was weeping over such apparently trivial things made her weep even harder. And Alex couldn’t do a damn thing to change it. And that stung him.

But this was something deeper.

“I’m n-not crying b-b-because they’re like you,” Eliza sobbed, her voice dripping with misery, “I swear I’m n-not. It’s just…”

Alex stiffened, letting her cling to his arm as her stomach kept her from throwing her arms around his middle.

“Then what, sweetheart?” He was getting the sense he wouldn’t like the answer.

“What if they…if they w-want to go?” Eliza wrenched the words out, dissolving into freshly agonised sobs at having spoken the words out loud.

Alex felt a chill as he realised what she meant. What if their baby was so much like him that they felt the same pull in their hearts that he felt every time the smell of salt caught in his nose or on his tongue or he heard the waves breaking on the shore, knowing just by sound alone which held the right currents to take him back. Back where was a question too vast to answer. Anywhere.

For Alex, the temptation was only ever brief, the old stale hunger for a drug he’d kicked long ago. The scent of Eliza’s hair or the brush of her fingertips on the back of his neck or the impossibly soft skin under the curve of her breasts chased it back down. Even when she was at work and he had the sea song caught in his head and there came that sly reminder from some part of his brain he didn’t fully control- his skin was just upstairs, the chest at the foot of their bed, it was right there- all he needed to do was find the diamond patterned sweater she’d been wearing all day yesterday and bury his nose in it, inhaling the smell of petrichor and garden soil and dew and flour, the scent of his mate. How could he want to be anywhere but here, by his beloved’s side?

There was no guarantee his child would feel the same.

What if they wanted to go? They baby Eliza had carried and formed with so much love, that Alex already adored with every scrap of himself without even seeing their face, what if they wanted the sea more than their parents?

“C-could they? I m-mean, they’d be half human, they won’t have a pelt, they couldn’t, could they? Alexander?” Eliza dug her nails into his arm in her desperation for comfort, silently imploring him to tell her she had nothing to worry about, their child would belong to the land.

“I…if they wanted it enough…” Alex’s throat felt half paralysed as he forced it to work, pushed away the desire to lie to his wife to preserve her feelings, “They’d get their sealskin from me.”

Eliza lifted her head to blink at him, her eyes confused, “What?”

Alex swallowed hard, “There’s a way. I’d cut them one. From my own.”

It would hurt, he knew that much. He’d never fully recover. But god, it would cost him more than just blood to do it.

“If they came and asked me, my love, I…I don’t know if I could say no,” he fought against tears of his own, “It would kill me, Betsey, of course it would but I couldn’t deny them it.”

“I understand,” Eliza rasped, miserably. She couldn’t resent him for that, she knew she couldn’t. At least, she tried so hard not to.

“I guess…Betsey, all we can do is just love them as much as we can and trust that they’ll make the right decision for them,” Alex sighed deeply, clutching her hand, “Look at the home we’ve made for them, the life we can give them…who could refuse this? Sure worked for me.”

The gentle attempt at humour earned him a watery smile. Eliza felt her weariness come flooding back, a wall of emotion that made her want to close her eyes and hide in the comfort of sleep. Alex was more than willing to provide, hugging her from behind, burying his face between her shoulder blades so she could rest in the safety of his arms. And it worked, in minutes her heavy eyelids closed to the world and she found peace.

But Eliza knew she’d discovered a fear that would live in some corner of her heart for the rest of her life.

#hamliza #alexander x eliza #selkie au #the seal lullaby #ficlet

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witchymarvelspacecase · 7 years

Text

Curse Perceptive Ex-Assassins

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Depressed/Anxious!Reader

Summary: Nat drags you out for a night and you feel uncomfortable already, then you hear some people talking, and you feel worse.

Warnings: Swearing,Angst(ish)-Fluff at the end

Word Count: 2133

A/N: Cause sometimes you just get the idea and the motivation at midnight, so you write until 2AM about, nothing important.*shrugs* Next chapter of “Wraith” will be up tomorrow night (I hope) and I have ANOTHER new pic in the works (thanks @imhereforbvcky for the help <3 )–Also, if you haven’t seen “Becoming Jane” and “Rebecca” (it’s from the 40’s), you should ;)

Posted: 8/28/17

Not my gif

“Where have you been all day? I had to deal with the ‘testosterone squad’ by myself!” Nat moaned loudly as she flung your door open, marched in your room and flung herself on your bed.

“I was helping my friend set up her salon Nat. And the academy is gonna revoke your Oscar if you keep pushing so hard on the dramatic scenes.” She chucked one of your pillows at your head and you laughed as you knocked it away. “I’m sorry you were alone in ‘man land’, I’m sure you handled it with appropriate decorum.”

“If by that you mean I beat Sam and Clint over the head and cursed ‘till Steve’s ears turned pink then yes, yes I did.” She smirked at you as she rolled onto her stomach to watch you putter around your room.

You laughed as you finished putting your tools away, “yes, I believe that is the correct behavior. Where was Wanda?”

“She and her brother went to the Smithsonian today.”

“Still not saying his name huh?”

“Nope,” she responded, popping the “p”. You smiled indulgently, remembering the prank that Pietro had pulled that landed him on Natasha’s shit list, as you sat beside her and stretched your arms out to the sides.

“So, I have decided that since you and Wanda both left me to fend for myself, you both owe me a night out, tonight, to a place of my choosing.”

You closed your eyes and dropped your head so it fell back on your shoulders, there was no point in arguing with her, but God, you didn’t want to go out.

“I’m not allowed to pick my clothes again am I?” A sinister smirks was her response. You groaned.

The music was loud, but not bad, you had a drink in your hand, and two of your best friends beside you; there were worse ways to spend a night. But that feeling abated within about a half an hour of arriving at the club Nat had chosen.

She and Wanda looked gorgeous, as usual, and Nat had forced you into a dress. You didn’t particularly like wearing dresses as a rule, they are inconvenient to fight in, but Natasha Romanoff is not a woman to argue with. So there you were in a cobalt blue bodycon dress that hit above your knee, and your black pumps. Wanda had helped you style your hair, and you’d added your own makeup. No doubt you looked great, but you couldn’t stop yourself from making the comparison to your two friends. Not a healthy habit, but sometimes your mind made decisions without consulting you. Your depression and anxiety had been well managed lately, but in the presence of alcohol, that could change easily. It seemed tonight, was going to be one of those nights.

Nat was quick to hit the dance floor and found partners easily, Wanda was not far behind. You tired to join and have fun, but you didn’t feel right. Going back up to the bar, you switched yourself to soda, knowing that the booze wasn’t helping you, but even that didn’t help. You signaled to the girls that you were going to the bathroom. Once there, you took a few deep breaths, enjoying the relative privacy of the small stall.

A few other women trickled in, going up to the sinks and mirror. You could hear them talking, gossiping about their friends mostly, but the topic changed when one of them mentioned that they had seen Wanda, Nat and you. They didn’t talk much about the three of you, choosing to focus their alcohol infused thoughts on the men. One of the women was completely besotted with Thor, I mean really, who wouldn’t be, from a purely aesthetic point of view anyway. You knew him to be a lovely man, but a loud one and a slob besides. Another bemoaned Tony’s repairing his relationship with Pepper; you scowled at this, but it wasn’t as if you could come out and defend the man and admit you’d been eavesdropping. It became uncomfortable when the subject of Bucky and Steve came up.

“Now I’d like me some of that supersoldier,” one woman slurred.

“Which one babe, there are two now?”

“The blonde one, Captain Ammmmerca!” Her slurring worsened as her tone increased and you held in a chuckle.

“Well good, cause I want Bucy. I bet he’s just as delicious as he looks,” the other purred. You could feel your face heat up, even though they didn’t know you were there. It wasn’t that the thought of Bucky made you uncomfortable, actually, that may have been just what it was. You were shy, you’d always had more than a soft spot for Bucky, but there was NO WAY you were going to admit that. Plus he was still recovering, he didn’t need that lumped on him.

“But I thought Y/N and him were a thing?”

“What? No way, Y/N and Bucky?” Your eyes widened and your breath froze in your lungs, people thought that?

”No way that’s for real. Y/N is nowhere near his league, have you seen her?” The girls cackled, and their conversation faded as they finally left the bathroom, making plans to try and find Nat and Wanda to see if they could get an invite to the tower.

You shot Wanda and Nat a text from the cab, saying you weren’t feeling well and were headed home.

You controlled your breathing and kept the self doubt and eventual meltdown at bay as you paid the driver and made your way to the elevator.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y?” you asked, your voice cracking just a bit.

“Yes Miss Y/L/N.”

“Is there anyone else home?”

“No ma’am.”

You thanked the A.I. and let out a long, ragged breath as your rode up to the common floor; you needed ice cream and a movie.

So that’s how he found you.

He’d gotten a text from Natasha, who knew he’d just been out on his own, and asked him to check on you, telling him that you’d left rather suddenly.

Nat had been suspicious of your “not feeling well”, but then she was rather suspicious of everyone.

Bucky sighed as he took the elevator up to the common floor, deciding to check there first. The doors slid open and he could hear the T.V., he didn’t recognize the movie but he could just barely see the top of your Y/H/C head above the couch. What he couldn’t yet see was the pity-party detritus scattered around you, or the tear tracks down your face.

“What’cha watchin’ doll?”

“Uh… ‘Becoming Jane’,” you croaked, hurriedly wiping your face as Bucky rounded the back of the couch, too late, he’d seen your face. You ducked your head, embarassed.

“Doll?” he asked as he knelt in front of you, taking your face in his hands, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

You laughed thickly, “Um, nothing’s really wrong, not really feeling… It’s just a bad night is all,” you smiled lightly, still not meeting his eyes.

Bucky knew about your depression, everyone did. You didn’t hide it, but you also didn’t usually have a breakdown in front of anyone.

“And now you’re trying to drown yourself in ice cream, and watching a sad movie on top of it?” Bucky wasn’t sure that was really the best thing to be doing if you already felt sad. “Y/N that doesn’t make sense.”

“The movie isn’t that… okay yeah it’s sad,” you acquiesced, continuing to look at the floor. Bucky frowned before having an idea.

“Ok, stay here, I’ll be right back”, he instructed before dashing off to his room.

When he returned minutes later, you had not moved an inch. He popped the dvd tray open and switched the T.V. off of Netflix, as the new movie loaded. He cleared the coffee table and couch of signs of your previous wallowing, wrapped you in a cuddly blanket and put a bag of kettle corn in the microwave.

When he sat down, “Rebecca” had started playing. He put a big bowl of the fresh kettle corn on the coffee table and then scooped you up and pulled you over so you were cuddled up to him, half in his lap; this startled you out of your stupor, but you didn’t move. You both watched the movie in companionable silence, his metal hand running up and down your blanket covered back and sometimes running through your hair.

When the movie ended, Bucky didn’t move, but he did speak up again, “wanna tell me what tripped you up, Doll? You were doing fine earlier.”

You took a deep breath before replying “Nat wanted to go out, made me dress up.”

“Well I’m sorry I missed that,” he chuckled, “but I know that’s not all that happened.”

“No. It wasn’t really a big deal, just heard some people talking about all of us, mostly you guys. They didn’t seem to think much of me though. Said I wasn’t… good enough” You stopped yourself from telling him the conversation you’d overheard, but winced at your poor cover up.

“What did they say? Whatever it is you know it’s not true right?” You laughed at this.

“No, I’m pretty sure this particular comment was spot on.”

“Well, I think you’re wrong.”

“You don’t even know what they said, Buck.”

“Don’t have to, you’re one of the most amazing people I know. You’re strong, caring and smart. You take care of people, even me. And you can hold your own in a fight against Nat AND Steve. So yeah, whatever these people said about you, I don’t think they're right, and you can’t convince me otherwise.” He pulled you into a hug. You closed your eyes and rested your forehead on his chest for just a second.

“Thanks Bucky.”

“You still don’t believe me do you?” Curse perceptive ex-assassins. “What did they say, Doll? It isn’t true whatever it is.”

“They said I wasn’t in your league, Bucky.” you muttered into his chest, hoping he wouldn’t hear you, wouldn’t understand you, or that you could somehow disappear in that instance.

None of that happened.

Bucky rested his hands on your shoulders and pulled you slightly away from him so he could look at you, you dropped your head again, hiding your face.

It took him a moment to understand the implications of what you’d just said. His heartbeat sped up.

“Doll, why would that upset you?” He suspected but, he needed confirmation. There had been so much in his life turn out so wrong, he didn’t feel safe assuming anything, least of all something like this.

You didn’t answer, and tears leaked out the corners of your eyes as Bucky’s right hand moved from your shoulder to your cheek and tilted your face to meet his. “Please tell me,” he pleaded quietly.

You broke. Tears falling in earnest now. “Cause I, I love you Bucky.” Your shoulders shook as you sobbed in embarrassment, but Bucky’s shock only lasted a moment before he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to yours.

“Then I was right,” he stated simply, causing you to meet his gaze between sobs, confused.

“What… what do you mean?” You were thrown by his continued presence, you thought he’d have been out of the room by now, not still sitting with you, let alone touching you.

“I was right, those people’s comments were wrong. I’m not out of your league Y/N, if anything I always thought you were out of mine. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.” He smiled and it reached his eyes, crinkling them at the corners.

Your breath hitched, you looked into his eyes, knowing he wouldn’t joke with you about this, knowing he must have meant it, but your brain wasn’t computing. “You- you wanted me to tell you that I loved you? I- I don’t... really?”

“Yes, really.” He said, both hands now cupping your face as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, just a gentle brushing before he pulled away. “I love you too, Y/N.”

Your brain caught up, and a smile stretched across your face. You brought your arms up and pulled Bucky into a hug just as the elevator doors opened.

“Who’s watching ‘Rebecca’ without me?!” Steve whined from the kitchen. You and Bucky chuckled as he kissed you once more, before pulling away to corral his drunken best friend.

“Be right back, Doll.” You smiled and as you turned, spotted Nat smiling at you from the doorway. She winked and waggled her eyebrows, you knew this would be all over the tower by morning… Curse perceptive ex-assassins.

Hope ya’ll liked it, sorry but I’m tagging everyone from my “wraith” list cause I am weak and need validation >_<

Tags:

@canumoveyourseatup-no, @imsunnysu, @ipaintmelodies, @blacwings-and-bucky-barnes, @littlxshit, @17marvelousfreak

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #depression #anxiety #fluff #angst #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #depressed!reader #anxious!reader #cuddles #Becoming Jane #Rebecca #validate me #late night inspiration #sorry

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rosemaidenvixen · 5 years

Text

You are my Sunshine

Chapter 6: Seven Part 2

Ao3

As hypocritical as it sounded coming from a doctor, Barbara found the process of receiving medical care tedious and frustrating. But finally, at long last, she walked out of the clinic and got into her car, glancing at the clock on the dash.

12:34am

Hours of waiting, an X ray and CT scan, and all Barbara had to show for it was a prescription for Percocet and an ice pack on loan from one of her coworkers.

She leaned heavily on the steering wheel, trying to summon the will to start the engine and drive home.

Two bruised ribs and a hairline fracture in a third. No real damage done, but it was going to hurt like hell for the next few weeks.

Jim wasn’t even ten years old and he was already strong enough to damage bone.

Most of the time, Barbara liked to think she did a halfway decent job at the single parenting thing. She paid the bills on time, maintained a schedule that revolved around keeping Jim’s secret, and of course, she had never raised a hand to him. No matter what some people might think, spanking was child abuse.

But in that instant, when Jim had hit her so hard it had knocked the air out of her lungs and dropped her to the floor; there had been the sudden, overpowering urge to strike him back just as hard. She got herself out of there as fast as she could, both to get her injury looked at and for Jim’s safety. The urge had faded rapidly, and it wasn’t until later, sitting in the clinic’s waiting room, that the raw horror of what she had desired for a split second hit her in full force.

Looking in the rearview mirror Barbara could see the heavy bags under her eyes, increasingly grim thoughts swirled around and around in her skull. She couldn’t keep this up. At the clinic her supervisor had started making her put in extra hours to compensate for the fact that she never worked nights. And getting off her shift to come home and deal with Jim and his meltdowns left Barbara even more worn out. It took everything she had to keep up with housework and make sure they had food on the table, she didn't have enough energy to keep fighting Jim like this.

It killed her every time she locked him in the basement, but at this point she was out of options. Her fingernails dug into the steering wheel as she tightened her grip, not when she had come so close to doing something unforgivable.

Dread sank into the pit of Barbara’s stomach like a lead cannon-ball as one thought, grimmer than the rest, bubbled to the surface. What was she going to do about Jim’s tantrums after he started puberty?

Barbara slumped back in the car seat and shut her eyes. She had been giving it her all for years now, but everything she had just wasn’t enough anymore.

It was over half an hour before Barbara finally put the key in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot into the deserted street. The parade that had been the catalyst for this whole awful evening ended hours ago, but she could still see remnants of holiday festivities as she drove by. Faux evergreen boughs and ribbons wrapped around streetlamps, trees and storefronts lined with colorful lights that sparkled in the midnight streets; none of it did anything to lift her black mood.

All too soon, she pulled into her own driveway. Forcing herself to not drag her feet, Barbara stepped out of the car and made her way up to the house. At the very least she had to clean the crumbs and sharp objects off the floor before she went to sleep. Hopefully Jim had already gone to bed of his own volition. She just couldn’t deal with another one of his outbursts right now.

Barbara paused at the front step, mentally preparing herself for the chaos she was about to walk into. She took one more slow, deep breath and opened the door; only to be completely floored at what she saw.

Nothing but immaculate rooms and spotless floors as far as the eye could see.

All of the thrown Christmas decorations and knick-knacks had been neatly placed back in their respective spots. Everything broken or shattered had been disposed of. And not a single cookie crumb was in sight.

Barbara cautiously walked into the next room, noticing that the miraculous clean up job extended into the kitchen as well. It was surreal, part of her wondered if what she was seeing was just a fatigue and painkiller induced mirage.

Glancing down at the table, she noticed the first anomaly in the otherwise pristine house.

A plate with a neat stack of toaster waffles sat in the spot on the table she favored during mealtimes. Off to the side was a carton of apple juice with the straw sticking out of it.

Barbara gripped the edge of the plate and tilted it slightly, confirming that is wasn’t a figment of her imagination. With all the curve balls life had managed to throw at her, it took a lot to surprise Barbara; but this did the trick. She was at a complete and utter loss for words.

The sound of rapid footsteps pounding down the stairs was all the warning she received before Jim scrambled up to her and encircled her legs in a death grip.

Barbara blinked at him before looking back around at the freshly cleaned rooms “Jim….Did you do all this?”

He mumbled something into her knees.

“What was that sweetie?”

Jim lifted his face up toward her. His eyes were ret and puffy, his blue cheeks were caked in layers of dried tears. It looked like he'd been crying for hours.

“ImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorr--”

“Jim, slow down,” Barbara got down on one knee and placed her hands on his shoulders “What are you trying to say?”

He snuffled deeply, clearing his sinuses for a more coherent reply.

“I’m sorry I hit you-- and yelled-- and broke the gingerbread house-- and the nativity set,” he said with a whimper “I won’t do it again, I promise,”

Barbara looked around the cleaned house, then down at Jim, then back up, then Jim again. In the two years since Jim had started transforming at night, he’d never acted like this after one of his meltdowns. She had no idea how to respond.

“I….accept your apology,” she said haltingly “Thank you for cleaning up the mess,”

Jim hiccuped out more sobs “I’ll be good from now on, I won’t ever get mad again, I promise. Please please please don’t leave!”

Barbara stared at him in confusion, now why would he think….

Realization hit her like a bucket of ice water; the cold way she’d reacted after he hit her, walking out with no explanation. That was exactly what James did when he left.

Time came to a screeching halt; Barbara couldn't move, there was a roaring sound in her ears. She was faintly aware of Jim stuttering out more apologies.

Being exhausted and emotionally drained was no excuse for letting Jim think his only remaining parent was abandoning him. And for what, an accidental hit to the chest that hadn’t done any real damage? It wasn’t Jim’s fault that he was stronger than any other child his age. This was hard for him to.

Her heart ached at the mental image of Jim deep cleaning the house in a desperate attempt to convince his mother to not abandon him. In the back of her mind she was aware of tears building up.

What was she doing? She thought she'd been managing to keep their lives together, but everything was still in pieces. Only this time there wasn't a magic bath bomb to blame. This time Barbara was the one doing the damage.

She made Jim doubt her love for him.

A sob started to bubble up in the back of her throat as the appalling realization washed over her. She was part of the problem. Her nose was so close to the grindstone Barbara hadn’t even noticed when she started to slip in her parental duties. Locking her child in the basement on a regular basis, leaving him home alone for hours; how on earth had she convinced herself that those were ok things to do?

And to think that earlier tonight she'd been halfway tempted to….to….

Hot tears spilled out onto her cheeks, she had failed horribly as a parent, Barbara Lake didn't deserve to be called a mother anymore.

The sound of Jim collapsing brought her back to reality.

Seeing Jim, curled up in ball on the floor and still crying, froze her in place. The whole time she’d been having a mental breakdown, she’d failed to notice Jim having one of his own.

Jim was still here, she was still here.

They were still a family, and family didn't quit on each other no matter what.

Hastily, Barbara wiped her cheeks with her sleeve and forced down her sobs. Jim already felt guilty enough, she wasn’t going to compound that by letting him see her cry.

Just because she’d failed Jim in a big way didn’t mean it was time to give up. No matter how bad things got she couldn’t stop trying. Even if everything she had wasn’t enough, Barbara had to keep striving to do better, for both of their sakes.

Wasting no more time, Barbara got down completely on her knees and pulled Jim up into a tight hug. Ignoring the hot stab of pain that flared up in her side.

“It’s ok sweetie, I’m right here,” she crooned “I’m not going anywhere,”

Barbara continued murmuring words of comfort to Jim as his sobs gradually slowed.

Eventually, once Jim calmed down to the point of being able to carry on a conversation, Barbara leaned back on her haunches, looking at Jim face to face.

“Jim, I promise, no matter what, I am never going to leave you,” Barbara barely kept her voice from cracking “You’re my son and I love you, and I will always be here for you,”

“Really?” he asked in a small voice “Even after I….I….”

“Oh sweetie….” Barbara carded her fingers through Jim’s hair, making sure to avoid his budding horns “You made a big mistake, but I still love you, and there is nothing you could ever do to make me stop loving you,”

Jim looked up at her with wide eyes “You mean it?”

“Of course I do,”

The future still terrified her, keeping Jim’s blue form a secret wouldn’t get any easier; he got bigger and stronger every day, and his horns and tusks kept getting more pronounced to. But no matter what he turned into in the end, Barbara would never let Jim doubt for a moment that she loved him with all her heart.

She cupped the side of his face “Jim, no matter what happens, I will always love you and I am never going to leave you. We’re a team and we’re going to stick together.”

Relief washed over Jim’s face, she saw the tension leave his shoulders as he relaxed for the first time since the sun went down. Jim curled deeper into her embrace, burying his cheek against her collarbone and rubbing the top of his head against her neck.

“I love you to Mom,”

#rmvwrites #tales of arcadia #trollhunters #fanfic #you are my sunshine #jim lake jr #barbara lake

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