#and just sends me on this guilt/shame spiral and I don’t really understand why? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aubreyprc · 3 years

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In My Veins 5: Final 2

the original ending.

part one part two part three part four part five(happy)

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But you catch a glimpse of sunlight.

Shinin', down on your face.

Oh you're in my veins

And I cannot get you out

Hotch takes a breath, gripping the necklace tightly in his hands, hoping for a miracle. The doctor sighs, looking away from them before looking back, his face unreadable.

“I’m so sorry..” Is what he says and Aaron’s heart shatters in his chest. His breath catches in his throat, his world stopping and he feels dizzy. No. Please. No.

“She was too far gone…” He tells them, “There was nothing we could have done.” His tone his soft, sad, almost as thought he’d lost someone too and it makes Aaron want to scream.

Reid stared at the doctor, his mind running wild. He doesn't understand what the doctor is saying to him, how is she gone? She was improving?

“What are you saying?” His voice breaks as he asks the question, the doctor looks away from Hotch and to him with sad eyes and shakes his head.

“I’m so sorry.. but she.. she’s brain dead.” He tells them and Reid feels himself step back and hit the wall but that’s it, everything else goes numb around him and he can’t breathe. This can’t be happening. She can’t be dead. Not when it’s his fault. Not when he wasn’t strong enough to save her. Not when she and Hotch were- Hotch. His mind shouts and he turns to face his boss who’d fallen back into a chair, staring off into nothing with her necklace hanging from his fingers.

“Is there anyone I can call?” The doctor asks, placing a soft hand on Reid arms, offering a show of comfort that he knows isn’t really going to help.

“No.. Thank you..” Reid says with a breath and pulls his phone out. He opens their group message and he knows he shouldn’t. He knows this is something that should be done over the phone but he can’t. He can’t wrap his head around how this happened. How Emily is gone… just like that.

come to the hospital now.

Is all he manages to type before sending it. His whole body feels numb and this doesn’t feel real. Emily can’t be gone. She can’t be dead. He can’t have lost her again.

“Would you like to sit with her?” The doctor says and Hotch looks up and stares with confusion.

“I’m sorry?” Aaron asks and the Doctor smiles sadly.

“Would you like to sit with her while she goes? Even though she’s been announced brain dead the ventilator is still breathing for her. When you’re ready I will take her off it and for a minute or two she will breathe on her own, before she.. before her heart stops.” He tells him “I thought maybe you’d like to say goodbye.” The doctor explains and Hotch just stands, nodding his head slowly, still unable to accept that this is real. That she’s gone. Because she can’t be. They had a plan.

“Reid..” Hotch says, his voice is brittle, almost glass like and Spencer doesn’t think he’s ever heard him sound so broken. Not even when he was listening to him beg for Haley’s life only two years ago. “Are you coming in?”

“I-” He starts, but he’s frozen. He knows he should go in because he didn’t get to say goodbye last time and he has a chance now… but he can’t move. Nothing seems real as his feet take him out of the hospital and into the rain. It isn’t until Morgan grabs him as he arrives at the hospital entrance, already halfway there to sit with both Spencer and Emily for the night when the text came through. A text he hasn’t seen. He turns Reid towards him and the younger man breaks down. Morgan never gets to say goodbye either, because once again he chose Spencer over Emily, except this time she really is dead, there will be no second chance. This time... Their last conversation would be their final one and as he holds a sobbing Reid in his arms in the rain, tears fall down his own face as his memory brings him back to their final conversation in the car. Their final bitter conversation, both acting like squabbling siblings who didn’t get their own way.

“God,” Morgan sighs, “Do you ever stop complaining?” He groans and Emily pulls a face at him and laughs.

“If I remember correctly, I wasn’t even supposed to be here.” She scoffs.

“Yeah.. you’re supposed to be six feet in the ground.. you know.. since we buried you a year go” He snaps, he regrets it as soon as it comes out of his mouth but she doesn’t have time to reply and he doesn't have time to apologise before the car is being sent flying down a hill. Her head hits something and just like that she’s gone, only back with them long enough for them to try and help her before she falls unconscious with her hand wrapped in Aarons. She never opens her eyes.

The last words Morgan ever says to her were those of rage and lack of sleep, words he would have apologised for saying to her over and over again for weeks afterwards. Now he’ll never get the chance.

Standing with Reid in the rain his only hope is that Spencer is crying because of something else, something entirely different, but as the genius shakes with sobs, his face resting in his neck he knows no amount of praying is going to make that true.

“She died…” Spencer says then, and Morgan feels his world alter and he knows now that everything is going to be different. Nothing is going to stay the same. “I don’t understand.. They said she was improving.” He’s crying still as Morgan holds him in the rain, the man presses a kiss to his head.

“Let’s go inside..” He says and Reid just lets himself be guided inside and back to the waiting room.

Hotch watches Reid run off, before turning to the Doctor and nodding, following the man into the room.

Nothing about her looks different. She’s still connected to the wires, he can still hear the sound of the ventilator pushing air into her lungs, he can still hear the sound of her heartbeat, he looks at the doctor with a frown. None of this makes sense, how is she dead?

“Are you sure she..” Hotch asks softly and the doctor just nods his head.

“I’m sorry,” He says again and Aaron can feel himself growing sick of the words, “There is no brain activity, the second we take her off life support she will no longer be able to breathe by herself, her organs will shut down.. she’ll go peacefully.”

“You said she was improving.” He snaps at the man, tracing a finger down her cheek as he looks away from the doctor.

“She was.” He says, “Sometimes people improve and they wake up, sometimes they deteriorate..”

“You should never have told us she was improving.” He tells the doctor sternly, eyeing him up, “We would have all been here if you hadn’t have told us-” He stops and looks back at her, shaking his head as his fingers linger on her face.

“Agent Hotchner,” The doctor says in a tone that makes Aaron stiffen up, because what else could he possibly have to say that’s worse than right now? Aaron looks over and the man takes a breath.

“It seems that Agent Prentiss was about two weeks pregnant..” He tells him and Aaron’s world shatters around him, he feels it crumble.

“I’m sorry?” He said, “How… What do you mean she was two weeks pregnant? How did this not come up before? How did you not know this?” His voice cracks at the end and he just turns back to face her, holding back his tears.

“Due to all of her other injuries it never occurred for us to check, it says on her chat that she is on birth control..”

“She is.. she was..” He tells her because he remembers now what she was saying about how regulating her periods will take time and if he’s serious about kids then she should come off the pill now, and he’d smiled, agreed and laughed before telling her this wasn’t something she had to excel at. That they had time. Time seems like a sick joke too him now.

“She was?” The doctor asks, before the penny drops and he finds himself looking at the man’s face, finds even more pity, more heartbreak on his behalf rests inside of him. “I am sorry, Sir.”

The doctor tells him she probably didn’t know herself, that she was maybe just past two weeks pregnant when the crash happened but it doesn’t stop Aaron from starting down a shame spiral. He starts to hate himself because he knew she was sick when he let her go to the field that day, he made her get into the car and maybe if he would have paid more attention he would have put two and two together and they’d be together now, planning their future while he palms a hand on her stomach, she’d be laughing because “there is no bump yet” and he’d just shrug, a goofy smile on his face because this is all he’d ever wanted. But in fact, he’ll actually be planning her funeral...and their babies funeral too, he supposes, but he won’t tell anyone that, because if she didn’t get to know about her baby then why should everyone else? He’ll bury the love of his life and their baby and try and pretend the guilt isn’t eating him alive.

“Please leave.” He says softly after a few moments, closing his eyes, “Please.” He says again, he can hear the plea come out of his mouth in a tone that he doesn’t even recognise. The doctor bows his head.

“Of course.” He agrees, “I’ll give you a moment before I come back in.. and we can start the process..”

Hotch doesn’t listen to him after that, just waits for the sound of the door to shut behind him and when it does, a sob escapes from his mouth. He sits on the chair next to her bed, pulling it closer to her and grabs her hand, wrapping it in both of his and bringing it to his lips, tears falling down his face. He brings a hand to her face and gently strokes the back of his fingers across her cheeks, breathing out a shaky breath as he looks down the floor, unable to accept what is happening.

“Emily..” He whispers, looking back at her. “You can’t do this to me. I can’t.. I can't do this without you. Please.” He’s begging and deep down he knows it’s useless but it’s his last hope. “We had a plan, Em. We had a plan.” He says softly as tears fall freely from his eyes, “I love you.. I love you so much and I-” He stops, his voice breaking. He swallows, “I can’t live without you. Please. Just.. Emily please.” He’s crying at her, begging, but it’s useless and he knows this, but he can’t stop. He bows his head and rests her limp hand back in both of his. “I can’t lose you, Em. I won’t make it. I can’t live without you.”

He doesn’t know how long he’s been sat there, his hand latched in her limp ones as he looks at her, taking in every last detail of her, but he knows this isn’t how he’ll remember her.

He’ll remember her laughing on her back as he told her a lame joke while they’re in bed. A smile beaming off her face as her laugh bounces of the walls and into his ears, a sound he craved constantly, a sound he’ll miss most.

He’ll remember her holding him close during the nights where the demons of her past find their way to creep back up on her, using him for comfort. For he was her safe place.

He’ll remember her playing with his son, making him laugh harder than the young boy had in years.

He’ll remember her smile. Her touch. Her voice. The way she made him feel at home.

He’ll always remember the future they planned that now, they’ll never get.

Three Months Ago

“You want to start a family?” She asked him, shocked.

“Don’t you?” He’d said back, raising an eyebrow and she shrugs.

“I’ve thought about it sure but... with this job..” She trailed off, he grabbed her hands to stop her from placing the next plate in the dishwater and pulls her into him, resting both his hands interlocked on her back.

“Then let’s retire.” He’d said. She looked at him with shock, her eyes wide, her mouth agape.

“Are you calling me old?” She’d teased, wrapping her arms around the back of his desk.

“No,” He smirks, “I’m calling you out.” He told her and she frowned in confusion.

“Calling me out? For what?” She’d tilted her head at him and he’d smirked at her, before placing a kiss on her lips. She’d smiled into this kiss before pulling away.

“I’m calling you out on everything.” He told her, “You’re not settling here, Em.” He says, running a hand up her back and the fear in her eyes when he said it told him all he needed to know.

“I’m settled. I’m fine.. we’re fine, Aaron.”

“I know we’re fine,” He nodded, “But you’re not.”

“Aaron-”

“No,” He said over her, “And it’s okay. You went through a lot last year..” He said and she lowered her head, piercing her lips together. “I think it’s the next step,” He’d said, “The right step.”

“To retire?” She questioned, “Aaron.. You love your job-”

“I love you more.” He told her, his eyes bled into hers as she did as she bit her lip to stop herself from grinning. “What do you say?” He asked, a smirk on his face. “Do you want to retire with me?”

“Yes,” She smiled, nodding her head, “I’d love to retire with you.”

“We could live on a farm in the middle of nowhere…” He said, grinning at her.

“Mhmm.” She’d agreed with a grin of her own, “We could get chickens… sheep.” She said.

“There’d be no more unhinged, obsessed unsubs after us..” He joked and she rolled her eyes, “We could be happy.. free.”

“Safe…” She whispered, and he traced a hand up her back again.

“Safe.” He agreed. The way safety was what she craved most made this a done deal for him. “At the end of the year, we’re retiring. Maybe we’ll get married and have a baby along the way.” He grinned and she laughed, nodding her head.

“You’re so sure of yourself, Hotchner..” She teased, before crashing her lips into his, “I’ll need a ring first.” She’d whispered against his mouth, before laughing and pulling away from him, taking his hand and leading him through the house, a grin on her face.

The sound of the door opening pulls him from his memory and he wipes his eyes before looking, only to find the doctor coming back in.

“Are you ready?” He asks gently, a sad look in his eyes that tells Hotch he hates this just as much and it makes him want to scream.

Aaron looks back down at her, piercing his lips together so he doesn’t cry. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, holding her hand tighter because no he’s not ready. he can’t do it. She can’t be dead because they had a plan. They were going to wait until the end of the year and retire together and move away because even though she stayed she isn’t really there and he knows that moving away to a small town and starting a family is what they need to do. It’s what they planned to do and so how is she dead?

“How is.. how is she dead?” Hotch whispers and if the room wasn’t as silent as it was the doctor wouldn’t have even heard him.

“She fought for as long as she could,” He tells Hotch, “She was strong. But sometimes people just aren’t able to recover from their injuries.”

Aaron doesn’t reply, he just looks at her once again, before nodding his head to the doctor.

It’s time, he thinks.

“Okay.” The doctor says softly and begins to untube her. There’s a loud breath sound that comes from her chest and he closes his eyes, swallowing down the lump forming in his throat.

“She’ll breathe on her own for a minute or two, before she goes.” He tells him, “Say your goodbyes. I’ll be just outside. When the machine beeps, you can press this button here and it will go off.” He explains, before leaving the man to it.

“I’ll love you forever,” Hotch says, pressing a kiss into her forehead. He feels around for the box in his blazer pocket, pulling it out and staring at the ring.

“I got this the day after we decided to retire.. move on.. start a family.” He whispers, clearing his throat. “We had so much planned, Em.” He says, “It’s not fair.” His voice cracks and he bows his head, pinching his fingers into the corner of his eyes as though it will stop the pain in his chest.

He pulls the ring out of the box and holds it, “I think you would have liked it,” He smiles, “The moment I saw it I knew.. I knew it was your ring.”

He finds the necklace is his other pocket, and loops the ring through it, before slowly clasping the necklace around her neck, the ring and her cross dangling down on her chest.

“I miss you already.” He whispers, running his fingers though her hair and down her cheek, “Jack.. he’ll..” He swallows, “I’ll make sure he remembers you, what you meant to him. What he meant to you.”

The monitor starts to beep unevenly then and he shakes his head, placing a hand on the side of her face softly, tears running down his cheeks.

“Not yet, please.” He whispers. “Please just stay with me. Just a little longer.” He begs, his voice is a cry at this point but he can’t find it in himself to care because the woman he loves is dying, she’s dying right in front of him and he can’t do anything but watch. Watch and accept that it’s all too late.

As the machine jumps again he shakes his head, “No,” He pleads, to who, he isn’t sure.

David Rossi runs into the hospital exactly twenty minutes after he got the text from Reid. He’s praying for good news, he doesn’t think it could be anything else, she was improving, wasn’t she?

He turns the corner into the waiting room and the sight of Reid crying into Morgan’s chest as the older man stares blankly ahead, running a hand down the geniuses back even as tears roll down his own face stops him in his tracks.

“Agent Rossi?” He hears someone call him and he turns in the direction of the voice to be met with her doctor.

“No..” Dave says, shaking his head. “She can’t be..”

“I’m so sorry.” The doctor tells him and the older man bows his head, rubbing a hand over his face as his heart falls into the ground.

“When?”

“I’ve just taken her off life support.” He says, “Agent Hotchner is with her now.. which is why I called you over here”

Rossi looks back at the doctor.

“She’s brain dead.. but in order for us to call time of death, her heart needs to stop.”

“Okay…” Dave says, struggling to see where he comes into this.

“Agent Hotchner won’t...” The doctor takes a breath and sighs. “He’s having a hard time accepting that she’s… dead.” He says, “Because she’s breathing on her own due to the ventilators oxygen still in her lungs it can be difficult for people to accept the situation at hand…”

“Can I go in?” Rossi asks and the doctor nods.

Dave enters the room and almost falls to the floor at the sight of Aaron pressing his hands into her chest gently, tears falling down his eyes. He’s sobbing, but he doesn’t think he’s aware of that.

As he presses his hands into her chest, begging for the life to come back to her, there's a hand on his shoulder that causes him to jump and when he turns around. The sight of Rossi, grief stricken as he looks at him makes Hotch nauseous. He shakes his head.

“I can’t let her go.. please. I can’t.” Hotch says brokenly, Rossi nods, reaching over and placing his hand hard against his, stilling the action.

“I know.” Dave whispers, “But you have to. We all do.”

Aaron turns back to her and bows his head, his whole body shaking with cries as Rossi keeps his hands still with the pressure of his own.

Aaron fights against the harsh grip Dave has on his hand, Dave sets his hands free, only to pull the man backwards. Aaron fights against him, shaking his head. As the sound of the machine’s loud, long beep, signalling her death echoes around the room, Hotch almost drops onto the floor sobbing, only to hit the chair on the way down and all Dave can do is just look at her. Another child loved and lost.

They’re removed from the room a few minutes later and Aaron just walks over to a chair and sits, tears rolling down his face but.. he can’t feel anything. His whole body feels numb. He’s heartbroken, shattered, he doesn’t think he can come back from this. It’s too much.

“Agent Hotchn-” A nurse starts to say but Rossi shakes his head and goes to her instead.

“Is there something else?” He asks and the nurse looks at him sadly.

“We need a signature for the death certificate..” She explains and Rossi nods.

“I can do it.” He says and the nurse leads him towards the desk.

JJ was picking the boys up from their playdates when she got the text. She brings Jack and Henry to the hospital with her, because all the text said from Reid was ‘come to the hospital’ and Emily was improving right? So it's good news?

She walks in with the boys at either side, freezing when she sees Hotch staring into the distance, zoned out completely and Reid and Morgan crying silently in the corner

She goes to take the boys out and call Will because they can’t find out here, not even she wants to find out here but it’s too late, Jack’s running towards his father and the look on Hotch’s face when he sees him is enough to make JJ wish that she never saw the text in the first place. If she never saw the text then this isn’t real and her best friend isn’t dead and that little boy isn’t going to have to find out he’s lost another person he loved in the hospital waiting room surrounded by strangers.

Hotch wipes his tears and quickly stands, heading towards his son.

“Daddy!” He cheers, his big grin almost enough to make Hotch smile. Almost. “Can we see Emmy again?”

“Buddy..” He says, leaning down to his level and grabbing the boys small hands, “About Emily..”

“Is she okay?” He asks, worry in his face and Hotch wishes he could say yes. she’s fine. she’s waiting to see you. But he can’t. Not this time.

“Jack.. buddy.” He says, “No.. She’s not okay.”

“Why?” He asks, and Hotch closes his eyes, taking a breath.

“Emily got very sick again and this time they couldn’t save her.”

“What?” Jack whispers, shaking his head. “But you said-”

“I’m sorry, Jack.” Aaron says, forcing himself not to cry, but the little boy just shakes his head.

“But you said she was just sleeping?” Jack says as he stares at his dad, the sadness in his eyes piercing a hole into Aaron’s already shattered heart.

“I know, buddy. But she was very very sick and sometimes-” He begins to say to his son but he stops, because even he can’t put his mind around how she went down hill so quickly, so how is he expected to give an explanation to his son? He takes a breath and runs a hand up Jack’s arm, holding back his own tears while he puts his son first. “I’m sorry, Jack. But Emily’s gone, buddy.” The tremble in his voice as he says those words to his six year old are nothing compared to the shout he releases.

“No!” He shouts again, “I saw her yesterday! She was fine! She was sleeping!” There’s tears running down his face and everyone in the hospital is looking at him and he wishes he’d had this conversation with him at home, but JJ had come right to the hospital after picking both him and Henry up. He can’t blame her for bringing him here, how was she to know that Emily was dead?

“Jack..” Aaron tries to soothe him but the boy is too worked up, too heartbroken, too confused.

“Daddy.. you’re wrong!” He says, his little little voice breaks at the end of his sentence as tears trail down his face like a waterfall. “You’re wrong!” He shouts, before taking off in a run and almost knocking Hotch over on his way. He’s on his way to the room he knows Emily is in, because he was just in there with her yesterday, he read her a story and held her hand and begged for her to come back. Hotch gets up quickly and chases after his son, running on the only thought that his son can not see Emily lay lifeless on the bed, even he wishes he could unsee it, he can’t imagine what it would do to a six year old. Jack is almost at the door when Hotch grabs him, picking him up and pulling him into his chest. The boy is all kicks and screams as he refuses to be held there.

“Let me go, Daddy!” He shouts, “I don’t believe you! She’s okay! You’re wrong!” He’s crying now and his sobs are coming from his chest and the pain in them is enough to make Hotch wish he himself was dead, just so he didn’t have to hear the gut wrenching sobs of his six year old as he shouts for the dead woman he’d become so attached too.

“Emmy!” The boy cries, pushing around in his dads hold once again before stopping and looking at him. The boy swallows and stops fighting when he see’s tears falling down his fathers face, he brings his little hand up and wipes it, a hiccup leaving his chest before he breaths and his lip starts trembling.

“Emmy went to Mommy, didn’t she?” Jack whispers, his little voice breaking enough that the sentence almost cuts off at the end.

“Yeah, Buddy.” Hotch whispers back, “I’m sorry.” He says and Jack just rests his head in his fathers neck and cries silently, taking some deep breathes Emily had thought him to do when he got himself worked up. Another mother he had loved, another mother he had lost.

As Hotch tries to console his son, gently shushing him as he paces the hospital waiting room, holding back his own grief to help his son, Garcia runs in. JJ is on the phone with Henry on her hips, turned away from her and so she carries on towards the cries of a little boy. The cries she hopes isn’t coming from the boy she thinks it is.

The sight in front of her makes her drop her bags and everyone looks at her. Morgan stands then, giving Reid’s hand a squeeze before heading to her. She’s shaking her head as he gets closer.

“Baby girl..” He whispers and she holds her hands out to stop him from getting closer.

“Don’t say it.” She whispers, shaking her head. “Don’t you dare say it.”

“She’s gone, Penelope..” He tells her and the woman cries, almost dropping to the floor as Morgan catches her, pulling her into him.

“What happened?” She cries, shaking her head as it rests in his chest, “She was..they said she was improving!”

“I don’t know, baby girl.” He whispers, “I don’t know.”

“Where is she?” She asks, pulling him his hold and he wipes her tears.

“She’s in there,” He tells her, “But she’s gone, baby girl. She’s dead.”

Penelope just shakes her head and folds herself back into his hold, sobs heaving from her chest as she cries for her friend.

Dave walks back into the waiting room and his already broken heart breaks even more when he finds his family crying in there, Morgan and Penelope holding each other close, JJ taking a seat next to Reid with Henry in her arms, the little boy reaching for his favourite uncle, the five year old not understand why he was so sad. Aaron holding his son close to his chest while the boy cries, the two Hotchner’s crying for the woman they we’re supposed to have in their lives forever. He walks over to Aaron, rubbing a hand over the little boys back and his sad little eyes look at him. The pain in the boy’s eyes make’s Dave wish he could take all of his grief for himself. He’s so young and he’s lost so much. It just isn’t fair. “Hey, buddy.” He says softly, the boy blinks, not even a smile graces his lips as he stares at him. Aaron leans his chin on he boys head as he holds him, wishing he could change this. Wishing that there was a way to bring her back.

“Emmy died, Uncle Dave..” The boy says sadly, another set of tears rolling down his face.

“I know...” He says softly, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Have you called Jessica?” He asks Hotch, who shakes his head.

“No.” He whispers, he can’t talk any louder than that. This whole body aches with grief and he just can’t do it anymore. “Could you-”

“Of course.” He says, before pulling out his phone and dialling her number, sending Hotch another sad smile before walking away.

He tells Jessica the news and the woman gasps, before telling him she’ll be there as soon as she can.

“How are they?” She asks him and Dave just sighs.

“They’re.. as you would expect.”

“I’m on my way,” She tells him, “Tell Aaron I’ll stay with him and Jack for as long as he needs.”

“I’m sure he already knows.” Dave smiles, “I’ll see you soon.” He says and the call ends.

He’s about to head back to the team when he hears footsteps behind him, he turns to find Will racing towards his family and he nods in greeting.

“Hi.” JJ says sadly as she passes her son over to him, Will takes her into his arms, kissing her head gently as he rests his son on his hip.

“I’m sorry sorry, love.” He whispers and JJ nods. “Have you told him?”

“Not yet, I don’t think I can.” JJ says, her head rested in his neck.

“Okay,” He says softly, “Let’s go over there shall we?” He suggests and JJ nods, following slowly behind her two boys and wishing more than anything that this is just a bad dream. That she’ll wake up and none of this would have happened.

“What’s going on Mommy? Why is everyone so sad?” He asks in his little voice and JJ swallows before bending down in front of him, Will next to her. “Where’s Auntie Em?”

“Baby..” She whispers, “I have to tell you something.” She says. “You know how Auntie Em was sleeping while she got better?” The boy nods, swinging his legs on the seat.

“Jack said that she should be up soon and that she would take us to see Sergio.”

JJ looks down, her heart breaking in her chest as she takes a breath. Will takes her hand and looks at their son.

“Well..” He starts, “Sometimes when people are really really sick.. they don’t wake up.” Will tells his son gently, “And Em tried really hard to wake up but she was too poorly and so she had to go the angel..”

“Like Nanny?” He asks, his eyes wide as he stares at his parents. JJ nods and runs a hand over her sons head.

“Yeah baby,” She says, “Like Nanny.”

“But..” Henry stutters, “But Jack said that he would wake up.” There’s tears threatening to fall from his eyes and he jumps into his parents arms.

Jessica runs straight past them and towards Dave, who he can see leaning against a wall staring at nothing. Her heart is hammering in her chest and she reaches where the team are sat, she looks around until she spots them. Aaron and Jack. Jack in his dads arms as the man is sat, staring into space.

“Hey..” She says, heading over. Aaron stands up while Jessica runs a hand down his backs.

“I’m so sorry, Aaron.” She tells him, he nods.

“Yeah..” He whispers. Jack looks at his Aunt and holds out his hand, she takes it and places a kiss into it.

“Emmy died.” He whispers and Jessica nods, before trading a finger across his cheeks to wipe his tears.

“I’m sorry, baby.” She whispers and he closes his eyes. Aaron rests his chest on the boys head once again when he feels his son sigh against him.

“Why don’t I take him home while you do what you need to do here?” Jessica suggests, “I’ll stay with you for as long as you need.”

“Thank you.” Hotch whispers, going to pass Jack over to her and the boy shakes his head.

“No Daddy.” He says, “I don’t wanna leave.. Emmy is here.” He tells him and Aaron actually doesn’t think he’s ever felt heartbreak like this in his life.

“You don’t want to go home?” Jessica asks softly, Jack shakes his head, before closing his eyes and then nodding. He’s tired, he’s sad and he doesn’t want to be here anymore. What he wants is Emily.

“Are you coming home Daddy?” He asks and Hotch nods, kissing the boys head.

“I’ll be home really soon.” He tells him and the boy nods, allowing Hotch to place him on his feet. The boy takes Jessica’s hand and lets her guide him out of the hospital. He sends a small wave to Dave as he passes him and the man waves back.

Just as they’re passing JJ, Will and Henry, no one could have imagined the explosion that would come next.

Henry spots Jack heading towards the exit and he stands.

“You lied.” He says to Jack, who turns to face him with wide eyes. “You said to me that she would be fine. You lied.” The five year old tells his friend and JJ takes her son and shakes her head.

“Henry, stop.” JJ tells him but the boy shakes his head.

“He lied, Mommy!” He shouts, “He told me Auntie Em would be okay but she isn’t! He lied!”

Jack looks up at Jessica, who gently tries to guide the boy of the hospital with an understanding smile to JJ and Will.

“I didn’t lie..” He says, “I didn’t!” He shouts.

“I know,” Jessica smiles sadly, “Come on.”

Henry steps past his parents and runs towards Jack, only to be held back and grabbed by his father.

“You’re a liar!” Henry cries, “You lied to me.” He’s sobbing as he shouts and Jack just stares at him, his lip quivering. “I hate you! You’re a liar and you lied! And I hate you!”

The loud shouts coming from a sobbing boy get the attention of Aaron and Dave, who walk over to find Henry screaming at Jack as his parents try to get him to stop.

Jack runs towards his father when he spots him and jumps into his arms, crying loudly as he wraps himself around him.

“I didn’t lie, Daddy!” The boy cries, “I didn’t.”

“Okay..” Aaron says, looking back at JJ who stares at him, mortified at her son's outburst. Hotch looks away first and he knows he shouldn’t be mad at her. That Henry is just five and he can’t understand this, not really. But his son just lost a woman he loved like a second mother, a woman who he cared so much for and so he looks away and kisses his son's head, because he is mad. He’s so mad at everything.

“I want Emmy!” The boy screams while he sobs, “Emmy!” He shouts, almost as if he thinks if he shouts loud enough she’ll come back and hug him, whisper to him that its okay, just like she had done in the past.

JJ looks at her son as Will picks him up.

“I’m going to take him home.” Will tells her and she nods. “You stay for as long as you need.”

“I.. no.” She says, shaking her head, “I can’t be here any longer. I can’t-” She stops, “I won’t be long.” She tells him and he nods, taking a seat and comforting their crying son while she walks back towards her team.

Jessica takes Jack again and as they pass JJ on the way out her heart breaks at the boy's cries. Closing her eyes she takes a breath and carries on walking. Penelope looks at her as she sits in the middle of both Morgan and Reid, the three of them silent, grieving, shocked and just.. unable to believe that Emily is really gone this time. That she’s really dead.

“Hotch..” She says and the man turns to face her, “About Henry.. I.. I’m so sorry. He just-”

“It’s fine. JJ.” He tells her, “They’re just kids.”

“Still. He shouldn’t have said what he did.” JJ tells him and Hotch hums and sits down on the chair, exhaling a breath and closing his eyes.

“What happened?” She whispers and Aaron shakes his head.

“I don’t know.” He tells her, “She just..” He trails off and looks down, “She was fine and then she wasn’t. They said sometimes people can just.. become brain dead overnight..”

“Brain dead? How?”

“Her injuries were too severe, they say she must have just.. died. I don’t know, Jennifer.” He sighs and she swallows, nodding her head.

“She was alone..” She says sadly and Hotch shakes his head.

“No they...” He starts, “They let me sit with her while they took her off life support.”

He took her off the ventilator because he wasn’t thinking straight and it didn’t occur to him that the others might want to say goodbye because all he could think about was how she was dying. She was dying right in front of him. He didn’t think, could think of anything else until Garcia is staring at him with tearful eyes.

“You took her off it without letting me.. us say goodbye?” She asks as she appears at JJ’s side.

Aaron looks up and stares at her, his heart dropping into his stomach.

“You didn’t call? You didn’t… You didn’t wait… until we were all here? Until we could see her?” Her voice breaks and there’s tears running down her eyes, he didn’t think his heart could even break anymore but he was wrong.

“Garcia I-”

“How long were you in there? How much longer was it until we got here… how could you not have waited? You should have waited!” She's shouting now and it grabs the attention of the men. Morgan rushes over as Reid follows slowly behind, Dave heading over from the other direction.

Aaron stands but he’s silent because what can he say? There’s nothing to say because she’s right.

“You pulled the plug without letting us know? Without letting us say goodbye?” JJ asks and she’s taken a step back, a hand over her stomach as it flips and she thinks she might be sick.

“Enough.” Dave says as he walks over. “Do you think this is what she would want? She’d want us to all be there for each other, not tear each other apart.”

“What she would have wanted was for us to have a chance to say goodbye. That’s what she would have wanted.” Morgan snaps.

“Why, for the second time did take her away without allowing us to say goodbye to her..” Garcia cries, her eyes burning into his and he has to look away. “How could you unplug her without letting me know?” She asks with a cracked voice and a painful tone “How have you done this to me twice?” She cries at him.

“I’m sorry.” He tells them and Morgan scoffs, shaking his head and walks off. JJ takes Garcia’s arm and slowly moves her away and the two women sit away from him, tears down their faces. Reid takes a seat next to Aaron as the older man falls down into it and Rossi just stands, looking around at the divided group and wonders how their going to carry on without her.

Reid bows his head as his shoulder shakes and Aaron looks over at him.

The younger man blames himself and it’s obvious. “They could have saved her if it wasn’t for me. If I tried harder but.. but I didn’t and now she’s dead” Reid tells him, “It’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, Reid.” Hotch tells him, “There’s nothing you could have done.”

“How do you know that?” Reid asks and Aaron looks at him.

“She was gone the minute she lost consciousness, Reid. There’s nothing you could have done.”

Spencer looks away and watches as Morgan walks over and takes a seat at Rossi's side a few feet away. Spencer tries to catch his eye but Morgan can’t even look at him.

“I put him first and now she’s dead, I don’t think I will ever forgive myself for that..” Morgan says quietly to Rossi and the older man looks at him.

“This isn’t your fault. It isn’t his either.” Dave tells him, “You’re going to need each other.”

“I was right here, Rossi.” He tells him, “I was right here when Hotch pulled the plug but I was with Spencer and...If I’d have chosen her, I could have stopped him. I could have said goodbye. The last words I said to her.. they were vile and bitter and I will never forgive myself for those being the last words I say to her.” He sighs, refusing to allow the tears brewing in his eyes to fall. “I was right here, Rossi.”

“I’m sure she knows you didn’t mean them. She knows what she meant to you, Derek.”

“Did she?” He asks and Rossi nods.

“She knew. She always knows.”

JJ and Garcia are the first to leave. Garcia gives Hotch one last look before leaving, still unable to accept that he didn’t let her say goodbye. That he took her from them all again, without telling them.

Morgan then heads over to Reid and takes his hand, nodding a goodbye to Aaron before leading the younger man out of the hospital.

Dave takes a seat next to Aaron.

“Let’s get you home.” He says and Aaron just shakes his head.

“This can’t be happening..” He whispers, “How-”

“I’m so sorry, Aaron.” Dave tells him, “But you should go home.. be with your son.”

“I can’t leave without her..”

“She’s gone, Aaron.” Rossi tells him, “It’s time to go.”

Hotch looks up and takes a deep breath, before nodding and standing up.

“I’ll drive,” He says, “Come on.”

Aaron arrives home and as he walks through the door, the first thing he sees is her coat on the hanger and a pair of her shoes in the stand and he realises then that there’s so much of her in this apartment.

Jessica comes into the hall and sends him a sad smile.

“Jacks asleep,” She tells him, “I’ll be back first thing in the morning, okay?”

“Thank you.”

“I’m really sorry, Aaron. I know how much you loved her.”

“Yeah.” He breaths, running a hand over his face.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Mhm.”

The door shuts and locks behind her as he takes himself to bed, pulling off his suit and just climbs in, not even bothering with anything else.

He trails a hand over the side of the bed where she should be and more tears fall down his cheeks as his heart just continues to ache in his chest so painfully he thinks it might kill him. He pulls her pillow into his chest and presses his face into it, her scent filling his senses as he cries silently for the woman he loved and lost. He knows nothing will ever be the same now, that everything is different.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to live without her. He never planned too.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep but when he wakes, he hums and throws his arm across the bed, expecting to feel Emily lay there. When he doesn’t he frowns and turns, wondering where she could be. He almost sits up and looks for her and that’s when he remembers. Oh. He stares at the ceiling as tears flood his eyes and he can’t breathe anymore. It’s been one day without her and already it feels as though he can’t live without her. For just a few moments when he woke up he had forgotten she was dead, forgotten that he’d watched her take her last breath before being taken out the room by.. he doesn’t know who by. He hears Jack running down the hall towards the bedroom and he knows he should sit up and be strong for hi son, because it what he needs, he needs his father. But he can’t. The grief he feels is so consuming and so overbearing that all he can do is close his eyes and take a deep breath.

Jack wakes up with a gasp, tears running down his face. He looks around and everything looks the same, everything feels the same and so it must have been a dream right? Right?

He gets up and runs to their room, to Emmy and his Dad because he has to see them, he has to jump on the bed and rest between the two of them like he does every morning, with one hand rested gently Emily’s because she would probably still be sleeping, she normally is when he jumps in. As he opens the door and walks in and finds her spot empty, he tilts his head in confusion and looks at his father as the man looks at him, his head still on the pillow.

“Where’s Emmy?” He asks, looking towards the bathroom and finding the door open, so she’s not in there. His Dad doesn't answer and he looks back at him, confused as his heart hammers in his chest as what he thought was a dream flahses before his eyes.

“What?” Hotch asks him, his voice is horse and it sounds like a cry on his lips as he speaks and Jack just stares at him,

“Emmy..” He says again, “I had a dream that..” But he looks at the pain written all over his face and he feels everything change in that moment, “Oh.” He whispers, looking the floor. He takes a deep breath as he process the event from the day before.

Hotch turns away as he feels tears fall onto his cheek, he doesn’t have the energy to stop them. It's then that he feels his son climb into bed with him and when the boy rests his head on his chest, he wraps his arms around him.

“I miss Emmy.” The boy whispers and Aaron inhales before swallowing.

“Me too..” He replies back softly, kissing the boy's head.

“It’s not fair.” The boy mumbles, “Why did she have to go?”

“I don’t know, buddy.” He sighs, “Sometimes the best people are the first ones to go.”

“Like Mommy too?” He questions in a small voice and Aaron takes a deep breath.

“Yeah buddy,” He agrees, “Like Mommy too.”

“I wish they didn’t go away.”

“Me too,” Hotch whispers. Jack closes his eyes and he pulls himself into his Dad more and rests his head on his stomach, falling back into a restless slumber once again as he feels his heart hurt without his Mommy or Emmy here to hold him.

“Please don’t go away, too.” He whispers in a small voice and Hotch wants to sob. He wants to sob because no six year old should have to ask their father to not die. No six year old should be so surrounded by death that it’s something he thinks about.

“I won’t.” He tells him, “Not for a very long time.”

“Do you promise?” The boy asked, pressing his small hand into Hotch’s.

“I promise.” He tells him and Jack nods, lack of sleep and emotional exhaustion over taking his little body.

Aaron falls back to sleep not longer after with tears falling down his face, while he wonders why Emily had to die. Why they couldn’t have been happy.

Three hours later and Jessica let’s herself into the house, keys hanging from her fingers and she frowns at the silence of the home. She had expected the two Hotchner’s to completely be full of life but she had thought they’d be sat on the sofa, Jack eating his breakfast. He was six. Even in times like this he needed routine. Maybe even more in a time like this. She starts to walk towards the master bedroom when a picture catches her eye and she stops, picking up the frame and taking a deep breath. She remembers taking that exact photo at Jack’s sixth birthday just under eight months ago. She remembers how she had to keep the new relationship between her ex brother-in-law and Emily a secret from everyone, even though they were doing a pretty poor job of hiding it themselves. She remembers she’d gotten out her camera to take some pictures of Jack when she saw the three of them standing in their own little bubble. Jack on Emily’s hips while they laughed at something Aaron was saying, Jack with cake on his finger on his way to poke it into his father's face.. she remembers taking the candid photo and smiling. She’d printed all the photos off a few days later and when she’d seen that one she had to frame and give it to Aaron, and she did. She can still remember the smile on his face when he looked at it and thanked her.

They were so happy. So in love. And it crushes her that Emily is gone. She strokes her finger across it sadly before placing it back down, smiling at the one of Jack and Haley next to it and running a finger down her sister's face.

“You better be looking after her up there,” She whispers, “Your son adored her, ask her for some stories.”

She heads into the master bedroom and leans against the door frame with a sad smile on her face at what she sees. Jacks lay on his dad’s chest, arms around him and Aaron lay on his back, his head tilted into a pillow that lay next to him, she imagines it’s Emily’s and that breaks her heart even more.

They’re both passed out asleep, their breathing even and she doesn’t want to wake them. Not when this is probably the only peace they’re getting. She knows far too much about loss to rob them that.

She walks back into the main room and sits on the couch, taking a deep breath and grabbing the first magazine she sees, flicking through the pages as she waits for one or both of the boys to rise.

Jack gets up first and he rubs his hand over his eyes as he yawns, forgetting for a few moments that Emily is dead and jumps out of bed too look for her, only to stop in his path instantly when he does, but he’s in the living room at that point and Jessica is looking at him.

“Hey baby,” She smiles, patting the spot next to her for him, “You feeling okay?”

“Emmy is gone..” He says sadly and Jess nods as he walks to her slowly, climbing up and leaning his head on her arm. “Everyone was going away, Aunt Jess.” He says sadly, “Please will you not go away?” He asks her, just like did he Hotch.

“I won’t,” She whispers, “I’m right here.”

“Daddy is really sad..” Jack tells her in a soft tone, his hand grasping hers as though he’s trying to make sure she doesn’t go anywhere. “He misses Emmy.”

“He’ll be sad for awhile, baby.” Jessica says to him, clasping her hand gently in his as his fingers wrap over hers, “It’s okay if you're sad too.” She whispers to him and he lifts his head to look at her, his cheek squished on her arm.

“Emmy was my bestest friend…” He whispers to her and the sad tone that lingers in his voice cracks her chest in half, “She said I was hers too but we couldn't tell Daddy because he would get jealous.” There's a giggle in his voice and a small smile on his face as he speaks about her and Jessica wants to cry for him, for the bond they had, for how much all three of them should have had.

“I’m sure he would.” Jessica grinned down at him and the young boy giggles once again.

One month ago

Jack rested his head on Emily’s arm and sighed, before yawning and closing his eyes.

“Tired?” Emily had asked him and the by just mumbled a response, nodding his head against her arm. She sat up and dragged him with her playfully, hoping him down onto the floor in front of her, his cheeky smile looking back at her.

“What do you want to read?” She’d asked as he took her hand, all but dragging her with him.

“I got this new book from school today…” He suggested, she smiles in response and as he climbs into bed, he yawns again. She ruffled his hair as he lay down and tucks the quilts in at his side while she sat next to him next to his legs.

“I think we skip reading tonight Mister, because you,” She’d said, and pokes his nose, “Are exhausted.”

“Tomorrow?” He’d asked, she nodded. “Emmy?” He said, his voice and high in the tone of a question.

“Yeah?” She responded in the same way. He looked at her for a few moments.

“You are my bestest friend.” He’d told her, and she felt her heart explode. She held back the tears and smiled right back at him.

“Well..and we have to keep this a secret okay, because Daddy will get very jealous.” She jokes with a smile, “But you’re my bestest friend too.”

The grin he beamed at her after she’d spoken made her heart melt in her chest and he kissed his fingers before placing them on her head and she laughed.

“Thank you.” She smiled, before leaning over, kissing his forehead and turning his lamp off.

“Goodnight.” She said, standing at the door, he smiled and curled himself further into the bed.

“Goodnight.” He repeated, smiling to himself as the door shut.

While Jack thinks back to a happier time he, Emily and his father had spent together, in the other room Aaron is in another restless slumber. He was so emotionally exhausted and so heartbroken and he just missed her so much that every time he closed his eye he saw her face. Her smile. Her laugh. Her reaching out to touch him before being dragged backwards and no matter how hard he tries he just can’t get to her and once again he’s pulled from his sleep with a gasp as she falls through his fingers.

He sits up and tries to catch his breath, tears rolling down his eyes as he closes his eyes. He looks over to his left, half expecting her to wrap an arm over him and pull him into her, kiss him on the head and ask him what it was about. He was no stranger to night terrors. Neither of them were. But, of course, she isn’t there, she never will be again. Because she’s gone, and he can’t handle it. His grief consumes him as all he can feel is an overwhelming sense of loss, sadness and pain. It’s numbing. He lays back down on the bed and stares at the ceiling, his mind running wild with her but also just emptiness at the same time, as though he is drawing in his own grief and he can’t escape it. It’s consuming him and he can’t even think about getting out of bed because what’s the point? The woman he loves is dead and. He had to watch her die and he could do nothing. Emily is dead and it's all his fault.

She wasn’t even supposed to be in the car. He’d made her go with them. She was supposed to stay at the station with him and Rossi but he had been nervous sending them to a suspect's house whose first language was Spanish without a fluent Spanish speaker, and so he had asked her to go.

“Aaron…” She sighs because she had been unwell all day, having caught Jack’s stomach bug he’d had last week. “Please.” She says, standing and placing two hands on his shoulder, “Don’t say it.”

He smiles at her, “Sorry.” He says, she groans and drops her head, he looks around and notices everyone around them preoccupied and places both of his hands on her back and pulls her into him. “You’re the only one who speaks Spanish.”

“Reid speaks Spanish..” She says softly, resting her head on his shoulders and wraps her arms under his suit and that tells him she is a lot more sick than she had been letting on. Neither of them were a big fan of PDA at work, so this caused worry to rise in his gut, (He’ll learn later that the feeling in his gut wasn’t because she was sick. He’ll also learn that she had not caught the stomach bug. he’ll forever wish he had listened to that gut instinct and kept her in his arms.) Instead he lifted his hand to her forehead and rested her chin on the top of her head.

“Reid speaks everything except Spanish, I think.” He chuckles, “Your temperature has gone down.” He tells her, she hums in response. “I am sorry.” He tells her, “If I didn’t think you had to go, you wouldn’t be.”

“I know.” She says, yawning and pulling herself from his arms, looking up at him. “You owe me.” She smirks and he chuckles, nodding his head.

“I’m sure I can think of something.” He smiles, double checking everyone left in the station at this time is looking elsewhere, before catching her lips in a kiss quick.

“Hmm,” She says as they separate, “What was that for?”

“I love you,” He smiles, unsure of why the desire to tell her that had come over him, but her blush as she bites her lip makes his heart flutter.

“I love you too.” She smiles, stealing another kiss before backing away, “I’ll see you soon.”

“Be careful.” He tells her and she nods, “I’ll see you soon.”

The ‘I’ll see you soon’ will forever remain the last words they’d exchanged, and he holds his breath out of relief, and counts himself somewhat lucky, because they’d said I love you moments before, and not many people get that.

His team didn’t get that, and the guilt of it being his fault chips away at him almost as much as losing her does. But not quite.

There is a knock at his bedroom door then, that forces him to sit up and swing his legs so his feet are on the floor, he takes a deep breath that almost feels painful, and says “Come in.” In a voice he doesn't even recognize as his own.

“Hey,” Jessica says as she pokes her head through the door, “I’m thinking of taking Jack out for some breakfast to try and get his mind off… everything. I think it would be good for you too, for both of you.” Jessica says softly. Aaron looks to the floor, placing his head in his hands as he sighs.

“Not today,” He tells her, “I was about to shower, actually.” He lies, because he wasn't. He can still smell her on him, he doesn’t want that scent gone. Not yet. Not ever.

“Jack’s worried about you.” Jessica tells her, “I know it’s only been a few hours but-”

“But what?” He asks, “Jess, please. I.. I can’t do this right now, okay? It’s not even been a full day.”

“Okay,” She says with a nod, “I’ll take him for breakfast. Would you like anything?”

“No, thank you.” He says, a sad smile on his lips but even the sad smile is fake.

“It will get easier, Aaron. I know how much you loved her, I do, but you have a Six year old who loved her just as much.. He’s grieving too. Be there.”

“Yeah..” He mutters, before listening for the bedroom door to shut and when it does, he crawls himself back into bed and holds her pillow close, he can still smell her on it. Closing his eyes, more tears fall down his face as he thinks of her and how he really can not do this without her.

They get back from breakfast and Jess doesn't expect to find him dressed and ready for the day but she at least thought he would have got himself out of bed. The silence of the home tells her that he is in fact still cocooned in the bed and she decides to let him, because he was right, it hadn't even been one day. She had passed late last night, the exact time she isn’t sure, but she definitely knows that woman could not have been day even ten hours yet and so she lets him wallow. She distracts Jack with books and movies and lets him tell stories about the woman they’ve just lost and hopes that tomorrow is a better day for them.

Two days after the death of Emily Prentiss Aaron Hotchner gets out of bed for the first time. It’s barely six am but he gets himself up and into the shower. He spots her body wash and shampoo in the corner and almost drops to the floor in sobs, but with a deep breath he picks up her shampoo and smells it, the familiar scent of vanilla filling his nose and he can feel the tears coming down his face and even though he tells himself its the water, that he’s getting through this and it will all be okay, a voice in the back of his head tells him different, he worries if that’s the voice that will win.

Out of the shower, he doesn't feel any better, not like he really thought he would have. There was still an overbearing ache in his chest when he remembers she’s dead and there's still an overwhelming pain in his body when he remembers he’ll never see her again, never hear her laugh, never touch her, feel her. She’s just gone, forever, no matter what he does or how many times he begs or prays she isn't going to come back to him and as he stares at her toothbrush next her his, her left over makeup from their date night last weekend and her towel behind the door he realises that she was so integrated into his life.. Into his heart, that the loss of her may in fact be his undoing.

Three hours later and he is sat on the couch with Jack, the boy watching a film he knows Jack and Emily had watched together weeks ago while he eats some fruit but Hotch just stares into nothing, his thoughts all consumed by Emily. With how much he loved her. With how much they had planned. With how much little time they had together because three years ago he was too scared to tell her how he felt and then before he knew it was she dying on the floor of a warehouse in Boston and he told himself if she came back from that he would tell her, that he would tell her everything.. How he felt, how long he felt it and what he wanted. Then she made it.. But at the same time she didn't and she was packed off to Paris before he even got a chance to talk to her and so when she arrived back at the BAU ten months later, after they caught and killed Ian Doyle he took himself to her hotel room and he kissed her.

Eleven months ago

Arriving at her hotel room his palms started to sweat, he took a deep breath before knocking on the door, his heart hammering in her chest because, what if she doesn't feel the same? The door opens just a few moments after he knocks.

“Hotch?” She questions, “What are you doing here?” She looks at him with so much confusion that it makes him almost want to back out of telling her anything at all, but he can't. No one ever gets a second chance like this and he refuses to waste it.

“Can I come in?” He asks and she nods, stepping aside and letting him through.

“Are you okay?” She asks him and he turns to face her, nodding before tilting his head when he finds her red eyes.

“Are you?” He asks her, “You’ve been crying.” He says gently and she laughs, shaking her head and pulling the sleeves of her jumper down into her palms.

“It’s been a long day.” She sighs, “A long year.”

“How are you?” He asks and she looks at him, “A person you loved died today, right in front of you.. I know what that feels like.”

Emily shakes her head, “I didn’t love him.” She mutters.

“Emily,” He says and she looks up to find him staring at her, “It’s okay.” He tells her gently.

“No,” She laughs, closing her eyes and looking to the floor with a shake of her head, “It isn't.”

“Why not?” He asks her, “You can’t help who you fall in love with.” He tells her and she looks up and at him, her eyes burning into his as he stares back. There are tears in her eyes and as one falls down her cheek he has to ball his fists up to stop himself from moving towards her and wiping it away.

“Yeah..” She says quietly, looking away from him and wiping the tears herself. There are a few moments of silence when she looks at him again.

“Why are you here, Hotch?” She asks, “It's been a long day and I really am not in the mood to talk about coming back to work..” She stops, “Did JJ tell you I was thinking of going to Lon-”

“That’s not why I’m here.” He tells her quickly, before stopping and looking at her, “You’re leaving?”

Emily sighs and rubs a hand over her arms and she crosses them.

“Maybe..” She tells him, “Clyde called… said there was an opening at Interpol and I don't know.” She says, “I think starting over somewhere else is a good idea… It would be better for everyone if I left.” She says, because if today told her anything it was that nothing within the team was the same. Morgan didn’t trust her and Spencer couldn't believe she would do this to him and Gracia.. Garcia is trying but the smiles she gives her don't reach her eyes and just none of it feels right.

“Who would it be better for?” He asks her, she shakes her head and refuses to meet his eyes.

She doesn't answer, just looks at him.

They’ve been doing this dance for years, standing in the middle of whatever they are and whatever they could be. They’d almost had something, but then Fouyet attacked him and he pushed her away to keep her safe and then Haley had died and they didn’t matter anymore because he was shattered and his life was altered and his son was without a mother. Then they had started.. Something again. She’d met Jack and the three of them bonded together in a way that didn't happen with friends and she felt they were starting to become what they could have been before Foyet when she got the call from Sean and it was her turn to push him away but with no explanations. Then she went to Paris and any hope of them ever being something died with her on the floor of the warehouse in Boston.

“Why are you here, Aaron?” She asks, staring at him and he swallows, before taking a single step towards her.

“Stay.” He tells her simply and she steps back.

“What?” She asks, shock casting over her face.

“Stay.” He tells her again.

“Do I have a reason to?” She questions quietly, and she sees him coming towards her and she feels him cup her face but it all happened so fast that when his lips crash into hers its takes her a moment to process what is happening, but when she does she relaxes into him, fisting his shirt and pulling him closer to her.

“Stay.” He whispers against her mouth as he pulls away, resting his forehead on hers.

The loud knock at the front door pulls him from his thoughts with a jump and he turns towards it, clearing his throat. He looks at Jack with a small, sad smile when he stands and the boy watches him go towards it.

“Dave?” He questions when he opens the door and finds the older man standing there with a file and a grief stricken, tired look on his face.

The older man smiles as best as he can when Aaron steps aside to let him in.

“Hi Uncle Dave.” Jack says from the couch, a small wave in his direction. Dave waves back.

“Hey Jack,” He says, “Do you mind if I steal your Dad for a few moments?” He asks and Jack shakes his head, turning back to the TV while the men head into the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” Aaron asks, rubbing a hand over his face and sitting on a chair, holding an arm out for Dave to take a seat to.

“How are you doing?” Rossi asks and Aaron just looks down.

“I’m fine,” He lies, “How are you?”

“Heartbroken.” Dave tells him honestly, “As is everyone else.” He says and Hotch just nods.

“What are you doing here, Dave? I doubt you came all this way to make small talk.”

“No,” Dave chuckles, “It’s.. it’s about the funeral.” Dave tells hi and Aaron takes a deep breath and just nods. “I called her Mother..”

Hotch freezes and looks at him, he hadn't even thought of that.

“Thanks,” He mumbles, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck.

“She’s agreed to have us at her house tomorrow with us all to start making preparations. Morgan said he can come and pick you up on his way-”

“No, it’s fine.” He says, “I can manage.”

“Okay,” Rossi says, “Be there by two.”

Aaron just nods and leans back in his chair, wanting nothing more than to crawl back into bed and wallow in his grief.

“Staruss is offering you retirement again, she tells me she did this after Haley died as well.” He says, placing the file on the table, “She wants you to look through the package and let her know by the end of the week.”

Hotch just nods. Dave goes to speak again when the door opens.

“Hey Jack.” Jessica says, “Where’s your dad?”

“In the kitchen with Uncle Dave.” He tells her and Jessica smiles, takin the three bags into the kitchen.

“Hey Dave.” She smiles, placing the bags on the table.

“Hey Jess,” He smiles, he looks at Hotch again, “I’ll see myself out, tomorrow at two.”

“Yeah.” He mutters, and Dave is gone.

“What’s tomorrow?” Jess asks, and Hotch looks at her.

“Planning her funeral.” He tells her and she reaches her and squeezes his hand.

“I’m sorry.” She tells him again and he squeezes it back.

“I know.” He says, before walking out. He kisses Jack on the top of the head before resorting back to his bed, wrapping his arms around her pillow and breathing her scent in once again. He cries himself silently to sleep. He doesnt wake up three hours later when Jack himself climbs in, he pulls the covers over himself and lays his head down. As he takes a breath he realises the pillow he lays on smells exactly like Emily and he smiles, falling asleep wrapped around her once again.

Jessica wakes up four hours later and panics when Jack’s bed is empty, before rushing to the master bedroom and finding the two of them passed out together, she smiles and shuts the door.

“Hello?” He says into the phone. It wakes him up and he wants to scream but in reality it’s half twelve in the afternoon and he hasn’t gotten out of bed since Dave left yesterday.

“Is this Aaron Hotchner?” A perky voice asks, he hums in response.

“Hi! I’m just calling to check you’re still okay with the reservation you’ve booked at our restaurant for Friday night? It says here it’s your one year anniversary, congratulations. We will have the champagne put on ice for you-”

Hotch doesn’t hear anything after that. His heart aches in his chest and he can’t figure out if he’s going to throw up or sob, one year. They were five days away from their one year anniversary when she died... he’d forgotten about it, so caught up in his grief.. in Jack's grief..

“No.. actually-” He says, clearing his throat. “There will be no need for the table.”

“Oh, may I ask why?”

“She died.” He says, before putting the phone down and sinking back into the bed.

They were almost one year into forever when she was ripped from him. He rolls over, pushing his face into her pillow that still smells like her and he cries.

Eleven Months Ago.

Emily pulls over leg over him so that she is straddling him her arms come to rest of the back of his couch, her chest inches from him and she smiles.

“Urgh,” She jokes, “I hate the term boyfriend.” She teases, he chuckles as he brushes his lips against hers.

“Well,” He whispers, “I guess I’ll just have to marry you then.” He says against her mouth, feeling her smile before latching her lips onto his.

They never will get that wedding. She never will be his wife. He never will be her husband.

He arrives at the Ambassador's mansion at exactly two pm. Dave lets him in with a sad smile and he follows the voices of his team and finds them in the living room. Spencer and Morgan are sitting on opposite sides of the room and he starts to wonder why that is until he realises he can not find it in himself to care, JJ sends him a sad smile which he gives her back and Penelope... Penelope still can't look at him, she’s wiping away her tears and her colourful personality is dimmed down into black.

“Agent Hotchner,” A woman’s voice says from behind him and he turns to find Elizabeth Prentiss standing there.

“Ambassador Prentiss,” He greets, she eyes him still, looking him up and down before walking past him and taking a seat in a chair.

“Shall we start?” She asks everybody as if they were in a meeting, and everyone just stares at her for a moment before nodding.

They were half way through the discussion when she speaks again.

“She will be buried in the Prentiss Plot, like her father.” She says and everyone stares at her, before looking at Aaron, then back at her.

“I’m sorry?” Aaron questions.

“My daughter will be buried in the Prentiss plot. She never specified in her will where she was to be buried and since the two of you were not married the final decision comes down to me.... She will not be buried as a Hotchner because she was not a Hotchner.”

Every single person in the room stares at her in shock.

“It’s what she would have wanted.” Garcia says softly, hoping if she’s nice enough that the women will agree and give Emily what she wanted. What she deserved.

“No it isn’t- and it isnt you’re right to-” She starts to say but Hotch can’t take it anymore.

“It should be,” He says and Elizabeth stares with fury, “You don’t even know her. You haven't seen each other for months. Even after everything that happened last year you have made no attempt to fix your relationship with her.” He snaps, “She tried with you, Elizabeth, but just like when she was a child and just like always you were too busy to even bother.” Aaron tells her, “She gave up even trying to reconnect with you three months ago because you stopped returning her phone calls. Do not sit there and tell me you know what she would have wanted when you didn't even know her.”

Elizabeth has rage coming off her as she stares at him.

“How dare you.” She bites, “How dare you sit there and tell me I did not know my own daughter. Our relationship was complicated, yes but don’t you dare sit there and suggest that I was too busy for her.”

“When was the last time you saw her?” Aaron argues back, “Or even called, for that matter?”

“I don't think that that is any of your business-”

“It became my business the minute she cried in my arms and asked why she wasn't enough for you.” He bites back at her and the room falls silent.

“I think that-” JJ tries to say a few moments later but Elizabeth is not quite done with Aaron yet.

“Get out.” She spits at him and everyone falls silent once again.

“I beg your pardon?” Aaron asks, staring at her.

“You come into my house, you insult me, you insinuate that I did not know or care about my daughter and you sprout hurtful stories at me...Get out.” She says to him, “You are not welcome here.”

Aaron laughs bitterly and stands, heading towards the door when she stands.

“And you are not welcome at her funeral.”

“Miss Prentiss-” JJ starts as everyone’s eyes go wide. Rossi stands.

“Now, you can not-” Dave starts to say but Elzabeth silences him,

“I can, and I have.” She says, her eyes not leaving Aaron, “You are not welcome at my Daughters funeral and if you are even seen on the premises you will be removed.”

Aaron just stares at her, before nodding and leaving the house. He doesn't have it in him to argue with her. He doesn't have it in him to do anything.

He’s telling Jessica what had happened when Jack grabs his hand and wraps his fingers around his. Aaron bends down and his son smiles sadly.

“It’s okay, Daddy.” He says, “We can have our own funeral for her,” He tells him and Hotch feels himself smile at the huge heart that his little boy has, “Right?” He questions, looking at both him and Jessica.

“Yeah buddy,” He says, “We can.”

Jack wraps his arms around him and Hotch pulls him close, running a hand down his back.

Penelope is sat with Elizabeth while they talk about arrangements, others sat in stunned silence while they try to process the fact that Aaron just got banned from being at Emily’s funeral.

Elizabeth listened as the woman next to her spoke and at every word just felt her heart shatter more and more because she started to realise that in fact, Aaron had been correct, she did not know her daughter, listening to what the woman was saying was like hearing about a stranger.

“That’s enough,” She says gently and Garcia stops and looks at her, “I think.. I think it would be best if I did allow Agent Hotchner to plan this.” She tells them, “Tell him he can bury her where he thinks she should want to be and.. Tell him he’s welcome.” She says, before standing and leaving the room.

Everyone watches her go before turning to Penelope.

“I’ll call Hotch.” Rossi says. “But.. I don't think he’s in the right headspace to plan this..”

“We’ll figure it out.” JJ smiles and the man nods, placing the ringing phone to his ear and walking out.

“I’ll do it,” Garcia says, “Hotch can’t plan the funeral of another woman he loves and I can’t ask Dave and- and I’ll do it because I owe this to her. I owe it to her because she was my friend.. she was my very special friend.” Her voice cracks towards the end and as looks to the floor, wiping her eyes.

End of part 5(1)

#hotchniss #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #in my veins

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cauldronofmorning · 3 years

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Okay so.... I've encountered your tags about "the talking scene between trapper and hawk in dr pierce and dr hyde the stuttering the grabbing the not blinking how another of hawk's coping methods has bitten the dust#trapper being soft parental but annoyed and how he needs to check out while hawkeye needs to save the entire world"... if you have time, Go off! I would love that 2000 word essay and your opinions.

It’s a bit of a mess and would probably get a C- if I handed it in, but! Dr Pierce and Dr Hyde and how it shows the difference between Hawkeye’s and Trapper’s coping methods.

Context! Alan Alda wrote the episode, mental health is important to him (not to psychoanalyze an actor, but he had depression before the show and his mom was schizophrenic) and there’s a quote on how Hawkeye didn’t actually change much in the eleven years, just had his coping methods beaten down.

So throughout season one, Hawkeye and Trapper have mostly been ignoring the trauma of a war. Hawkeye naturally ended a movie with a speech about propaganda (Yankee Doodle Doctor) and Tommy tells them (Sometimes You Hear The Bullet) about a kid who should have been the blonde hero in a war movie actually dying and not hearing a bullet, forcing them to actually quietly think about it. But for the most part, they can distract themselves with booze, pranks and women, and Hawkeye can still draw a straight line between his tenuous sanity pre-war and the place he’s in.

There’s also two important episodes in season two before Dr Pierce and Dr Hyde, that make the war more personal for both of them. The first is Radar’s Report, where a scared prisoner contaminates Trapper’s patient by knocking the blood over. Trapper’s sulkier throughout the episode, obsessed with how it could have been okay if it weren’t for that incident, and less indulging of Hawkeye’s girl of the week problem. His patient doesn’t make it, and he makes a beeline to the POW’s tent, maybe would have killed him if Hawkeye hadn’t bought him back to reality. “That’s not what we’re about.”

The second is For The Good Of The Outfit. This one has a village bombed by American military and Hawkeye/Trapper run afoul of previously decent sounding generals trying to shut them up from talking about it, including passive aggressive threats to send them to the front, and specifically to Hawkeye, intercepting letters to his dad. It’s okay by the end of the episode, but he’s still livid when he finds this out.

In comes Dr Pierce and Dr Hyde. The episode starts with Hawkeye already slightly dissociated from a long shift, thinking it hasn’t ended, and Trapper having to gently take him by the arm and guiding him out of the OR, telling him he was taking the chest cases “like he was their only hope”. Hawkeye wanting to save everyone keeps popping up throughout the episode; here, when he’s stumbling into Henry and his ego filtered through deprivation making him think he’s the only one who can do chest cases, the scene I’m getting to, and the end where Trapper and Henry sum him up.

As much as Trapper is “let’s get drunk to deal, okay?” kind of comfort in comparison to BJ who can actually talk about emotions, if not necessarily knowing the best way to deal with them (Hawkeye has a type and it’s repressed blondes), he’s soft with Hawkeye – gentle touches, firmly telling him to go to sleep, indulging that chopper noise is just thunder – until he figures the best way to get his friend to rest is to sedate him behind his back.

The thing with Trapper is that while he might be a bad husband, cheating on his wife with no shame (but he keeps bringing up that Hawkeye is more perverted so that might make it easier for him to deal with, see the couple of times he glares at Hawk for flirting with Henry/a male patient, Divided We Stand, The Trial Of Henry Blake, Check Up, Life With Father, Adam’s Ribs), he’s a good father who ran into a minefield for Kim and tried to go AWOL for Cathy and Becky. That’s not to say he always treats Hawkeye like a child, that would be weird considering how much flirting they do, but when the other man is manic or badly affected, Trapper’s first instinct is to be parental.

After Hawkeye in his doubletalky way admits to Radar he’s compulsive and psychotic (sidenote: his symptoms of strong emotions, not being able to think clearly and too many spirals to name actually bear that diagnosis out, instead of just using the word when one thinks another is behaving badly), he wanders around the camp like a ghost, making notes about corpsmen with guns and nurses checking patients in post-op.

As Hawkeye often does, whenever he finds something out, or thinks he has in this instance, he has to tell his live-in boyfriend of the season immediately, and if he can’t sleep then neither can anyone else. He sits on Trapper’s bed, extremely close and not blinking, and jostles him awake. Already Trapper’s slightly panicky, as no matter what he says about being the mellow one, any time there’s shouting or loud noise in the swamp, he always wakes up with a start. Even when he sees it’s Hawkeye it takes him a few seconds to process and get back into his role.

Hawkeye’s very sad and very quiet. For the past seven minutes, even though he’s dissociated, exhausted and not doing well, he’s still trying to do his normal thing of turning his anger sideways and being snarky or being a clown bottom for the gaggle of nurses. Going back to one of Trapper’s good qualities is that he’s a decent parent, Hawkeye can regress emotionally into being like a ten year old (incidentally, the age when he had the most trauma pre-Korea, with Billy, his mom dying, guilt over not wanting dad to remarry and at some point losing his virginity), both for funny like in Picture This and for sadness.

So he’s finally noticed that he’s in a war zone and he’s too tired to make jokes about it or distract himself from it. Trapper already sounds frustrated but still listens, telling him to go bed before he drives himself crazy. There’s been a few takes that Trapper would get sick of later Hawkeye, and given how much they really can’t talk to each other that often, even just a mention of Hawkeye’s will when he has to go to the front makes Trapper shut down and Hawkeye cover with a joke, that’s probably true. They’re both messes, but for now Trapper can give Hawkeye someone to lean on.

“If I thought I could stop it just by going to sleep, don’t you think I would try?” Hawkeye does a twitch of the head, still unblinking, and that’s just really asking Trapper to understand and take him seriously. Also the wording, he’s not saying he can stop thinking about it just by going to sleep, or stop feeling anything just by closing his eyes, although both of those are implied. He makes it very clear later on (Letters, Preventive Medicine, Blood Brothers) that he feels like he’s as bad as the war – god and martyr complex combined – and if he can’t fight against/blame everything on that then it’s time for some self loathing.

Trapper does actually pay attention and gives him some advice. Definitely not great advice, but advice nonetheless, to close his eyes when things get unbearable, and to keep checking out when it keeps happening. This can’t work for Hawkeye, who’s had a guilt complex ever since he was a child, but it’s how Trapper copes. The next episode when Kim’s mother turns up for the boy, after a time of being actually open, he goes right to dismissive snark. Plus in season three’s Mad Dogs and Servicemen, another one on how differently Trapper and Hawkeye deal with things, he shrugs that he pretends he’s not there all day along.

Hawkeye’s stuttering a bit at this point. Words are important to him, it’s why you should probably leave him a note even if you’re a man who 1) wants to forget about Korea as soon as he arrives in Boston but won’t 2) wants desperately to believe he’s straight but isn’t 3) cares through physical touch and can’t think of what to say for seventy two hours. Wordplay is important to him too, and he admits to Sidney in the finale that his brain thinks too fast. Obviously exhaustion is going to put his brain and mouth out of sync, and considering how he sounds like he’s going to cry in the mess tent when he can’t even get words out to Frank Burns, it makes him all that more helpless.

“Somebody, and it wasn’t you or me, started this war.” It’s the “whoever the them, we were always us” of it all. It’ll be more important in the third season, and what happens in Welcome To Korea, but Hawkeye has taken it for granted that he and Trapper will stay co-dependent no matter what happens or who they come up against or how their time is running out. Much how he probably didn’t tell Trapper about the abandonment trauma he’s suffered before, Trapper always reassures him to come back soon, or no charge for leaning on him, or it isn’t a Christmas goodbye, and doesn’t want to share real feelings.

Beyond that scene, with Hawkeye dragging himself off to be a hero, assume that everyone who tries to take care of him really just wants to sleep with him, and cry while singing, Trapper tries to sedate him while he’s not looking. He’s tried being parental, he’s tried the repression advice, it’s time to be passive aggressive for Hawkeye’s own good. Or what he thinks is Hawkeye’s own good. It’s not especially great on Trapper’s part, but a similar thing happens reversed in Mail Call, where a drunk Trapper tries to go AWOL and as soon as he’s distracted laughing at Frank, Hawkeye locks his bag away so Trapper won’t be tempted again. Both of them are repressed messes who can’t really talk to each other.

When that sedation attempt ends up in Frank falling over, Trapper goes to Henry to be the worried macho boyfriend. Like with the only comedic dancing allowed and not the time in Officers Only when a genuine offer gets turned down, being protective over Hawkeye where he can hear can only happen when it’s for fun/likely no real danger.

At the end, Trapper and Henry sit by Hawkeye’s bed when he’s finally asleep and talk about him. Kindly, but they know he’s unstable with a hero complex. Like Mulcahy said in season eleven, the camp has a lot of experience with not dealing with reality, and even Trapper says in Iron Guts Kelly that one man’s reality is another man’s fantasy. Nobody has the capability to talk about this yet, and Sidney and Hawkeye only really become friends in O.R. Hawkeye will wake up and he and Trapper will pretend this never happened.

When Adam’s Ribs comes around, and Hawkeye has a manic episode over needing to eat something that isn’t liver or fish, Trapper and Henry are again the ones looking after him, comparing him to their kids and Trapper in the background both snarking over Hawkeye’s slippage in sanity and looking out for him. It’s not as quite high stakes as Dr Pierce and Dr Hyde, but they’re still worried about him.

To end this out, Trapper and Hawkeye and mental health is a fun thing to look at. Neither of them are particularly emotionally intelligent yet, Hawkeye just kind of a self absorbed mess and Trapper finding it easier to be a reassuring rock and keep his own struggling to himself, and they keep things from each other while also taking past each other, but they comfort each other with jokes and distractions that only they can understand. The repressed clowns are trying, even if it does all end with a borrowed kiss and only just barely missing each other.

#hawkeye pierce #trapper john mcintyre #mental health tw #dr pierce and dr hyde #mash #piercintyre #gene-ious

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raevenlywrites · 3 years

Text

Okay, so. The point I wanted to make earlier was something like this:

TL;DR: Not knowing that hyperfixations were a thing hurt me, and cost me not only enjoyment of a thing, but more serious social and emotional growth potential. More kids need access to a broader range of what Normal is, and Normal needs to be opened up and expanded to include things that are perfectly harmless because the harm of excluding those things is immeasurable.

(Did I just put a tldr at the START of my post? why yes I did. why? because i’m about to drop this entire damned ESSAY under a read more because it’s dash destroying (think of it as an abstract on a scientific paper) ... (no, it is nothing like an abstract on a scientific paper. wtf did I say that) ... (anyways))

(Can you tell its an ADHD night? are there enough parenthetical asides in this yet?)

...

(no)

ANYWAYS

When I was a teen, I read a book called In The Forests Of The Night. I’m sure you’ve heard me mention it before, but believe it or not, it was only TONIGHT that it occurred to me that this book and its fellows is my hyperfixation. Because, for the first TWO THIRDS OF MY LIFE, I didn’t know to think of myself as someone with hyperfixations. Hell, I didn’t even know what a hyperfixation was. I am one of the countless adults who has self diagnosed as ADHD or autistic or SOMETHING, and this is the story of how not having a diagnosis growing up hurt me.

So. I read this book. My now-wife-then-unbeknownst-crush gave it to me as part of our ignorant teen courtship. You’ll like this, she said, trying to share an interest with me in order to bond. Thank you, I said, not knowing I wanted to smooch her face. Unimportant, but I like reminding myself when I look at back my teen years how queer I already was without knowing. And this story is mostly for my benefit of getting it off my chest, so smoochy thoughts included.

So I read this book. It’s short, 200 pages or so, and if I’m honest with myself as an informed adult, nothing spectacular. It’s not bad, but its not ground breaking. None of the books are. But they broke new ground in Me, and what grew out of them has literally shaped the course of my entire personality.

Raev, I hear you say, it’s not great to base your entire personality on a bit of pop culture.

Shut up, I said, I’m telling this story and anyways insert-edgy-media-here dudebros have been doing it forever. Anyways.

So I read this book. I read it again, and again. I read all the books that went with it, but I stayed especially hung up on Forests. Why? Partially because it was the first one I read. Partially because the MC and I share a name, and therefore in my little teen head a connection. It was the first time “Rachel” felt like an identity, instead of just an identifier, and one that way too many of my classmates shared. Rachel was a badass, stifled by her Christian upbringing and the expectations of the day on women. I was a badass, stifled by my Christian upbringing and the expectations of the day on women. Rachel became a vampire, spiteful and spitfire the entire way. She did it on her own terms (so my teen reading of the text went), spurning every attempt of her kind to show her the ways of the vampire. She had a nemesis, a clear, concrete reason for her pain, and took charge of that pain and overcame it to be a complete and utter badass by the end of the book (again, so my teen reading went. Part of the problem here was my teenness. Part of it was my neurodivergence, which I will get to (you didn’t think this would be a SHORT story, did you? I warned you I have ADHD and that this was my hyperfixation; how did you think this was gonna go?))

So I identified heavily with the protag, and with its shocking author. This lifechanging book was written by a teen, like me! Holy cats, I said to myself, why, if she can do it, so can I! I had just started writing my own first novel (a shameless retelling of Star Wars, hyperfixation of my grade school years), and immediately trashed it to write my own vampire thing. Because vampires were clearly IT and I was gonna be a cool badass author hero, just like the MC of the second book.

Then the shapeshifter books came out, and so did I.

It’s really unrelated, but that was a fun transition, and as previously stated, author-type. Anyways.

So I came out to my girlcrush, angsted about that a lot, and continued to gobble up the books. Did you know there’s a website, she said. There’s like a whole fan community and everything.

Now, part of the problem here was being part of the first generation on the internet. It was relatively new, and so stranger danger and not being entirely comfortable on the internet and all that had its part to play. But this is also where the hyperfixation finally comes into play.

I liked Nyeusigrube A LOT. A lot a lot. So much so that I made my own conlang, my own mythos, my own entire story universe patterned after this one but not exactly this one. For whatever reason, it never occurred to me to self-insert, just to shamelessly copy. That one I can’t explain, but this one I can now understand through the lens of an adult.

Nyeusigrube was my especially special interest, and I had no idea that was a normal, healthy thing.

So tangled up in all this was my raised-too-conservative freak out about being Not Straight. I had finally figured out I liked girlfriend, if not that I was incredibly bisexual yet, and that was a Big Deal. Super cool author I hero-worshiped was one of those “Do I want to BE her or just want her?” kind of idolations, but again, didn’t know that at the time either. So these two very normal things that I knew NOTHING about were getting tangled together in a rat king of Issues with a generous slathering of Shame glue to hold them all together. Add to it the paranoia/RSD/general not-great-at-social sides of my neurodivergence, and basically I had decided I was Too Weird and liked this book Too Much and if I so much as LOOKED at the websites/forums/etc, everyone would know and that would be Bad.

Did I have a clear idea of how that would look? Not really? I didn’t need to. Just the thought of checking out the fansites was enough to send me into a panicking guilt/shame spiral about how much I enjoyed the books. Everyone will KNOW, I thought, and it will be BAD. The End. It was Not Normal how much I liked the books and I will freak everyone out.

So.

If I had just KNOWN that hyperfixations were a thing, I might have still felt weird, but I don’t think I would have AGONIZED (and I do mean fucking AGONIZED) over how shockingly Not Normal my level of interest went. I might have still felt bad, because I didn’t have a diagnosis, and therefore probably wouldn’t have given myself permission of admit I had a hyperfixation, but at least I wouldn’t have wallowed in ignorance. Now, if I’d had the knowledge and the diagnosis, I probably would have still been too shy to interact, but I wouldnt’ have wasted hours of my life in panicked/guilt/shame spirals. If I’d have a diagnosis and a support group? If I’d had a diagnosis and been raised with the normalization of being queer? If I’d had medication, role models, a safe place to open up and communicate, so on and so on? Like, you get the idea, right?

I consider myself immeasurably lucky that my love of writing and vampires and high school girlfriend survived all this. (My equally intense boy crush of the time did not (not because I don’t like boys but because I fell down another hyperfixation spiral and no PERSON should ever be subjected to that but I digress)). As I said, this is my especially special hyperfixation. I can’t imagine how many hours of enjoyment I might have gotten out of the forums, the fan arts, the roleplaying groups, the FRIENDSHIPS, my gods, can you imagine the friendships? Anyways, what I’m really saying is that it caused me real emotional Pain and Trauma, thinking something was Wrong with me for my level of interest. A lot of people have regrets about like not trying out for the team or not asking so and so out or whatever, but mine is a stupid fansite. I have deep and palpable regrets about letting my fear and shame keep me from something so harmless and silly, and as I said before I don’t think I have a concise or tidy ending, but this was what I wanted to say on the matter so there it is.

TL;DR: (hey, didn’t you already post this part? Yes, yes I did. I’m doing it again, but this time its the In Conclusion bit instead of the summary bit) ...(abstract. they’re called abstracts)...(this is still FAR from a scientific paper) (ANYWAYS) Not knowing that hyperfixations were a thing hurt me, and cost me not only enjoyment of a thing, but more serious social and emotional growth potential. I was stunted and harmed by this lack of education, and I guess my point is I hope no one else has to go through that. If my stupid little story can fix a thing, I want it to be that. More kids needs access to a broader range of what Normal is, and Normal needs to be opened up and expanded to include things that are perfectly harmless because the harm of excluding those things is immeasurable. Thank you for coming to my TED talk

#raev rambles

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gifted-burnout-archive · 4 years

Text

Jim’s Best Friend

Part Two - PB +J

Word Count: 2627

Author’s Note: Part deux! It’s so fun inserting Y/N into show scenarios. I love it! Hope you enjoy this chapter

Warning: Domestic abuse, discussion of death.

June, 2005.

"Why did I start working here?" You repeated the question, sat in the conference room with the tv people. You bit your lip a little, your eyebrows furrowing as you looked away from the camera. "If it's alright, I don't feel too comfortable sharing just now?" You said nervously, but the producer nodded in understanding, and you quickly left you room to go back to work.

Unbeknownst to you, Dwight decided to sit down moments later. "I can tell you why she started working here." He said with a straight face, not even acknowledging that he had been eavesdropping. "Her mom died."

—

You were sat at your desk, mindlessly going through paperwork as the clock ticked away in the corner. While the rest of the office seemed busy, everyone either on the phone or rushing around with copies to be made, accounts to be located, emails to send, you were sat at your desk with nothing to do. The last few days had been the same. No calls, no emails, your workload had died down and you didn't like it. In a job like this, you need to be busy.

You were starting to lose any and all will to live when your phone rang, and you sat up straight, tucking your hair behind your ears and answering.

"Dunder Miffllin, this is Y/N speaking. How can I help you today?" You gave your best pitching voice into the phone, and heard a laugh on the other end that echoed around you.

"Not bad, Y/L/N. Seriously thought you were going to fall asleep there." You recognised the voice as Jim's immediately, who sat to your left with a stupid grin on his face, and you put down the phone.

"Shouldn't you be doing something?" You asked with a teasing tone, and Jim shrugged.

"I mean, if I was doing something, you would be asleep right now." Jim had a point. You and Brian had been fighting again, and after the whole Spain debacle (turns out he was pissed you missed Valentine's Day despite you booking the trip before even meeting him), you were somehow in the wrong again, and hadn't been sleeping much trying to figure out what you had done wrong this time.

"Yeah, sorry... It's been a tough couple of weeks." You admitted with a shrug and a smile, and Jim nodded, understanding. That's what co-workers do, after all. In all the years you had known Jim, he had never once been too busy to listen to your personal drama. And while you didn't like to admit it, your love life was a shambles, and the drama came in bucketloads. In fact, Brian was the longest relationship you had kept since high school.

"At least you're have the basketball game to look forward to this afternoon." Jim offered, trying to cheer you up. You laughed a little and shook your head.

"There is not a chance I am staying around to watch Michael spiral into full blown sports maniac. Do you not remember the Super Bowl party he hosted?" The memory of that night made you both shiver.

"But Pam's cheering for the warehouse team, we need someone rooting for the office." Jim pleaded, and you rolled your eyes.

"Brian is picking me up for lunch anyway. You should ask Angela." You teased, speaking in a low voice so no one could hear it. Jim let out a loud laugh in comparison, drawing a few sets of eyes his way.

"You two can't be plotting without me, it's not fair at all." Pam called over, and you blew a kiss in her direction, which she caught and put in her pocket.

"She's not coming to the basketball game, Pam." Jim called over, and Pam gasped, holding a hand to her heart.

"Wait until Michael-" she started, just as Michael opened his office door.

"Y/N! You aren't coming to the game? But we're going to win!!" He whined, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"Michael I made plans for lunch today and I-"

"If you don't come you're working this weekend." Michael decided, and Jim and Pam turned to look at you.

"That's not really fair, I'm having lunch with my boyfriend Michael it's not like I'm ditching for no reason." You try to explain. You couldn't work this weekend, no chance of it happening.

"Make the choice Y/N. Game starts in an hour and a half." Michael set the options out for you, and you sighed once he disappeared downstairs to torment the warehouse crew, resting your head on the desk.

"I had scheduled you to work anyway Y/N." Dwight tried chiming up from his behind his massive whiteboard, and you weren't sure if it was an attempt at a reassurance or if he was just being a dick.

"Shut it, Schrute." You said softly, not moving.

"Y/N do you want me to-" Jim started.

"No." You replied with a sigh, your head still on the desk. Jim smiled a little, and scooted over in his chair to pat your back as you tried to figure out what to say to Brian.

—

"What do you mean?" You stood outside the office with Brian, who had come to pick you up for lunch. He was dressed quite nicely, and the guilt kept mounting up.

"Baby, I'm really sorry, I am. But my boss said if I don't go to this thing today then I will have to work the weekend and-"

"Then work the weekend." Brian interrupted you, and grabbed your hand. "Let's go before we lose the reservation."

"Brian you know what this weekend is." You said softly, pulling your hand out of his grip. "We can do date lunch any day of the week, why are you so set on getting there?" You asked, and Brian's face turned red.

"I'm sorry, but when did your boyfriend wanting to take you out for food become such a bad thing?!" He raised his voice, and to you flinched at his tone.

"I'm telling you I can't do today, Brian. Now please, let's not fight when my coworkers are upstairs?" You begged, but he grabbed your arm. A bit too hard.

"Stop being a moany little bitch and let's go to lunch." He said through gritted teeth.

"Brian, babe, you're hurting my arm." You said gently, and he laughed.

"This isn't hurting you..." He ignored your pain, squeezing harder.

"Brian... Brian! Ow!" You yelled out, prying his fingers off you. You were breathing heavy, and suddenly you felt a pain in your cheek, as you retracted your arm and held it to your chest. Your face flew to one side, and the hot pain in your cheek was soon explained by Brian's raised hand.

He had hit you. You were used to the feeling, but he had never done it in public before, and never sober.

"Shit babe... I didn't mean it-" he started, the tears welling up in your eyes.

"We can talk later... I have to go to this thing Brian..." You said, trying your best not to let yourself choke up in front of him. Before he could convince you otherwise, you rushed back into the office.

The floor was empty thanks to the basketball game starting downstairs, and you took a few minutes to try and calm yourself down. You grabbed your purse and headed into the bathroom, trying your best to hide the redness of your cheek, flinching as you touched up around the corner of your eye. One of Brian's rings must have caught you, or a nail. That was going to bruise.

You then pulled on the cardigan Pam had left on the back of her chair, covering up your arm, and with a few deep breaths, and a final look in one of the mirrors, you headed downstairs to the warehouse, plastering on as bright a smile as you could.

When you got down there, the game was in full swing, though the quiet wouldn't suggest so. An area of the warehouse had been cleared, basketball hoops on each end, and you watched from the stairs as Jim made a basket, joining in the applause as you walked down. You took a seat beside Pam, who smiled quickly at you and then looked again.

"My cardigan?" She asked, and you nodded.

"Gets a bit too cold down here for me." You responded, and she nodded, watching Jim make his way around the court.

— "Pam and Jim? Oh, they're great together. PB and J." You said to the camera. "Of course, as friends. Pam's got Roy, obviously... They started about the same time, never seen a pair cement together so fast. Glad I got muddled up in that friendship." You laughed, smiling a little brighter. "We all just... It's never awkward." —

After Roy had scored another three pointer, and Michael had lost the ball during some cocky dancing, the boss called in the team.

"You're playing like a bunch of girls! Do you want to work Saturday?!" Michael hissed, before turning round and noticing you.

"Where were you?" He asked, and you looked up, confused.

"I came here for 1.15..." You said, a hand holding your chin up.

"The game started at 1, Y/N... God! If we lose, you're coming in Saturday too."

"Michael I-" you tried to defend yourself, but he ran out onto the court with the guys. Pam put a hand on your shoulder, and you tried your best to hold back tears. You kept your head down as the game started back up again.

Jim was going hard, and now he was tagging Roy, it suddenly became a lot more competitive. The fiancé versus the best friend. Every time Jim scored, he would rain past you and Pam with a cheeky smile on his face, and Pam would always smile back.

That is, until Roy elbowed Jim in the nose, and Jim knocked Roy over... Her smile disappeared then. And quickly, the game became a mess. Michael was yelling and harassing the other team, Dwight was stealing the ball from Ryan...

And one of the warehouse workers accidentally hit Michael in the face.

"What the Hell man?" Michael yelled, stopping the game.

"Oh man, I am so sorry. I didn't see you I-" the warehouse worker, a guy named Ted, started apologising.

"Foul! Foul! You just clocked me right in the face man, what was that for?" Michael held his nose, and as Ted tried to explain, Michael kept telling. "It was a flagrant attack of a personal nature you know what GAME OVER! Game over!" Michael called out, a few sighs and grumbles following.

"This is why I didn't want to come..." You whispered to Pam as Michael went on about the team being a family, about how it was a real shame but whoever was ahead should win.

"That was you..." Daryl responded to Michael's statement. Office had been ahead by five points.

"We were ahead? Oh well I didn't know-" Michael started. "Guess you guys are coming in Saturday." Michael said with a shrug, and you glanced at Pam.

"Michael bet whoever lost worked Saturday..." She filled you in.

"Nah, I'm not working Saturday..." Roy states, and three of the warehouse workers: Roy, Daryl and Lonny, surrounded Michael. Each of them were at least half a foot taller than him.

"Come on guys... I'm the boss." Michael said with a sigh, and Lonny jumped in.

"So we're coming in Monday? Right?" He asked, and Michael gulped. The room was silent, in the way no room of thirty people should be silent. "Monday, right?" Lonny repeated.

"Yeah, course. We're coming in Saturday." Michael said with a laugh, and the room was filled with sighs, muttering and grumbles.

As the office team made their way back upstairs, spectators in tow, the mood was low. Lower than low. Not only had Michael cheated, but he had still lost.

Jim was chatting with Pam and you when Roy came in to pick her up.

"Larry Bird... Larry legend." Roy announced, giving Jim the once over as he swung his arm over Pam's shoulder, the pair starting to leave the office.

"Oh, Y/N. Mind if I get my sweater? The house is freezing." Pam said with a sweet smile, and you nodded, pulling it off and handing it over to her. The moment of silence the four of you shared upon the reveal of your newly bruised arm was too long to bear, but Roy quickly broke it.

"See you guys next week." He said, leading Pam out quickly. Jim looked at the door for a second, then back at you.

"Y/N what-"

"Not now, Jim." You said quickly, turning to tidy your desk. As you shut down your computer, Michael appeared from his office, tissues in his nose.

"What time do we have to come in tomorrow?" Oscar asked, the office going silent as they waited for an answer.

"Ah, ha ha! I uh- hey Y/N, at least you won't be working all on your lonesome, huh?" Michael turned the attention to you.

"Michael, I came to the game, I'm not coming in tomorrow." You stood your ground, pulling on your jacket.

"Don't be like that Y/N. You were late anyway, and it's a team thing! All in it together." Michael tried to laugh it off.

"No, Michael."

"Come on Y/N-"

"Jesus Michael, I said no!" You yelled, and Michael took a step back.

"Am I missing something?" Michael asked. You never shouted at him, he never shouted at you. In the six years you've known each other, it was playful almost always.

"Five years tomorrow." You said gently, wiping away a tear, and the realisation dawned on a few faces, including Michael's. Phyllis came over and gave you a tight hug.

"Y/N I can't believe I forgot I-" Michael tried to apologise, but you shook your head.

"It's fine, it's fine... God, I'm sorry..." You apologised, and after breaking the hug with Phyllis you immediately rushed out the office to your car.

"I'm confused..." Ryan spoke up after a minute, and Dwight turned to look over.

"Her mother passed away a year after she started working here... I don't know why she's making such a big deal of it, if you ask me." He said, and Jim stood up.

"Jesus Dwight, shut up!" Jim snapped, grabbing his own things and following you out the door, hoping to catch you.

Michael and the rest of the office stood quiet for a moment. "Screw it, have tomorrow off. It's not like an extra day's work is going to stop the downsizing." Michael said with a sadness in his voice, walking into his office and shutting the door.

Meanwhile, Jim had managed to catch up to you.

"Y/N?" He tapped on your driver's window, startling you. You took a second, rolling the window down slowly as you wiped your eyes.

"I'm sorry I lost it in there I just-"

"Don't apologise. You have every right to be sad... And, I know I never met your mom, but I bet she was as amazing as you are." Jim tried to cheer you up with a compliment, and you laughed, a few more tears flowing. "Hey, hey... Look, why don't I come with you tomorrow? So you don't have to be alone?" He offered, and you look up at that big smile of his, nodding.

"I would really, really like that..." you said with a small voice, letting out a hiccup as you dried your eyes on your jacket sleeve.

"Then I'll pick you up at 10?" He offered, and you nodded, cementing the plan. Jim smiled, waving goodbye as he headed to his own car. He didn't ask about the bruises, he knew you wouldn't want to share, and you drove that night feeling slightly less terrible.

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sometimesrosy · 3 years

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I’m stuck. I just opened my project & realized I haven’t written since the 17th. I haven’t even been thinking about it, my brain is just really off the story. I’m stuck at work with nothing to do, & instead of writing I’m sending you this ask. I just... don’t want to but I know I should just force myself. Should I reread everything of what I wrote to try to get excited again? Should I just keep on taking this break until my brain thinks about it? These days it feels like I’ve forgot I’m writing.

I am in a similar bind with an ecourse I’m writing on... ironically writer’s block. Oh the universe laughs....

So. Let’s look at your problem and maybe I can solve mine.

First off, understand that this is the holiday season and things are weirder this holiday season than normal, due to covid and *waves hands* everything. This is NOT a good time to get stuff done, especially, frankly, in writing/publishing. Publishing closes down at this time of year. EVERYONE is...frantic with it all. End of the year, holidays, travel plans (please don’t travel it’s quarantine time,) family, holiday blues, work expectations etc.

Now this doesn’t mean you can’t write, but I think it’s beneficial to not give yourself a hard time about not doing your writing and remember that there are extra obstacles to getting focused. Your brain is BUSY. With stuff or work or anxiety or holiday blues or whatever.

Okay. So what that means is you have let go of the guilt and the “shoulds” of it. The guilt and shame and failure and anxiety of not writing when you think you SHOULD be writing can be debilitating. You feel guilty so you avoid writing then you feel ashamed for avoiding it then you feel like a failure for not being able to write because what writer can’t write when they have the opportunity? then you fill up with anxiety because you suck and fail and blah blah blah. Writer anxiety/block spiral.

It’s quite likely that your brain is off the story because your brain is busy with all the other stuff. This is not something to be ashamed of, it’s just life. Life has cycles of productivity and rest. It just does. That’s how things work. You work. You take breaks. You are active. You are resting. You write. Then you don’t write. Let yourself have your cycle.

Okay. That said, if you want to take a break and just not worry about it. Go ahead and do that. Maybe set a plan to start writing again at a time when you have the freedom to focus. Make a date with yourself and your project. Why not? Take that dead day at work and plan out what you want to do next and where and when. Actually, considering that, if you actually take your lull at work and PLAN your writing for next time, you might very well find yourself back in the project.

One of the things I do when I want to write but am not in that place to write is go to the pinterest board I made for my project (I like keeping those, they help me visualize and plan the story.) If I spend some time perusing the boards, I remember the story. I remember the feelings. The things that get me excited. The characters. Or, I search pinterest for things essential to the story and pin them. That’s a way to get your brain back in the story without actually producing new words. It helps with the lack of focus while not being demanding of a unfocused mind. I think it’s another part of the brain being used, not the verbal one or the logical one, but visual and subconscious. This image “feels” like the story. That image sets up a resonance with a theme.

If pinterest is not your thing, you could try organizing your thoughts instead of writing them. Draw a map of your setting. Or a floor plan. Look for costumes that would fit. Make a menu. Or a playlist. Create a family tree. Outline a little backstory. Or outline the story you’ve written so far if you’re a pantser rather than a plotter. Do a tarot spread for your characters or story or figure out their Hogwarts House or astrology sign. Or their favorite food or childhood pet. The idea here is to think AROUND your story rather than addressing your story directly. If one part of your brain doesn’t want to work on it right now, use another part that you find inspiring. I’m a visual person that’s why pinterest works for me. But music might do it for you. Or (if you’re not stuck at work) maybe you like to MOVE to get your brain going and going for a run does it.

Another thing I like is to take a narrative break. For me, instead of trying to write write write, I need my brain to start thinking of stories again. Not writing the next word. So I step back, pick up a nice, easy, not too demanding book, and just read. It’s a break for me but it keeps my brain in narrative mode. Often, in the middle of my reading break (20 minutes is a good time) my brain starts connecting back to MY story and I jump up because I’ve figured out how to write again. Sometimes I need the break more and I keep reading for another 20minutes or more. It’s not uncommon that I just keep reading for an hour, but that’s okay too.

Now, your suggestion of reading the project over to get back into the story which you’ve forgotten and have gotten out of is an EXCELLENT way to get back in. I do that on a regular basis, especially when I’m binge writing 3k word a day or so. I sit down at the computer and go over what I wrote the day before, so that no matter what I’ve been doing since (working or scrolling or errands or reading or whatever,) I’ll remember where I was and what state of mind I was in.

It also gives me a chance to edit what I did the day before, tighten it a little, emphasize anything I want to put in there and THEN I just keep going onto the next scene/passage/chapter when I get to the end of what I already wrote.

So, my advice to you is to... figure out what works for you. If you need the break, keep taking the break, no guilt. If you want to get back to writing, do the read through and then get back to writing. If you want something in the middle where your lack of focus and distance from the story might be given a little respect--but not coddled, try NOT writing but still doing something story related like I suggested above, and you may find yourself writing again, or maybe just doing something fun that helps you get back into the story for when you ARE ready to write again.

#writer's block #writing advice #rosy writes

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princess-of-the-corner · 3 years

Text

So I totally forgot to drop the fifth part of the Thieves in Time Rewrite months ago. Whoops.

I think it’s because I wasn’t super happy with it but fuck it. Let’s do this.

Finally, onto the Thieves in Time Rewrite: Episode 5; It Ends at the Beginning.

Like Episode 3, I’m replacing the Cooper that they end up with. If y’all have kept up with my old posts, you know what’s coming >:3c

So! Actual story!

The gang lands in this Time but don't know when they are just that they were following anomalies in Time. They start trying to figure out when they are.

Sly's first out of the van, and is looking at a house in a normal neighborhood. However, he immediately recognizes it. This also sends him into a straight up ptsd flashback and he just scrambles back into the van, curled up and hyperventilating. The rest of the gang is confused and trying to calm him down. Completely forgetting about the question of 'when are they', until Murray comments that Sly hasn't had an attack this bad since the early days of the orphanage. Which makes Bently put the pieces together like "oh shit!!"

Right then, they hear a knock on the van door and a voice asking "are you having some car trouble?"

Because sure it's the middle of the night but Conner Cooper is going to notice a van parked in his driveway and come to investigate.

Conner also eavesdropped a bit before announcing his presence. So he heard them wondering 'when they are', and has already put together that Time Travel is involved, and they're probably not innocent road trippers. But he doesn't know if they're friend or foe.

Until he looks in the van and sees Sly. Because everything about Sly screams "Cooper", from the outfit to the cane(that he is currently gripping like a lifeline).

However, Conner has yet to pinpoint how far in the future they're from or what triggered Sly's flashback. Still, realizing this is another Cooper and his Gang, he invites them inside.

It takes a little while because Sly needs to calm down enough, but Conner is patient because he knows what ptsd is like.

Oddly enough, the one that helps the most is Penelope. Not that the others don't help. But with Carmelita, Sly gets that guilt/shame 'I don't want you to see me like this' feeling. That's less with Bently and Murray since they've seen this before, but since he's known them for so long the flashback memories are melding and mixing in his panicked state, and it's hard to remember that he's here now and not that little kid in the orphanage waking up from a nightmare.

Penelope, on the other hand, is a newer face that Sly isn't in any way intimate with. Seeing her helps ground him in remembering what's going on and helps pull him out of spiraling memories.

Sly's panic goes up and down as they enter the house. Seeing the livingroom definitely hits hard. It looks so normal, but it overlaps with his memory of upturned and bloodsoaked furniture. And god he fully freezes as they pass the closet. It gets better once the group enters the dining room.

At this point, Dahlia, Conner’s wife and Sly’s mom, has come downstairs as well. She was concerned at how long Conner was taking and was fully prepared to throwdown with whoever. Seeing the group though...

Dahlia knows something is up. She has seen enough stuff from her days running with Conner's crew to be used to it. And she's intrigued to see another Cooper.

But yeah Sly's still in panic and Dahlia's mom instincts kick in and she starts making tea to help calm him.

Once Sly's calm enough to talk again, they begin to explain why they're here. An enemy is using Time Travel to mess with Cooper history. The gang tracked an anomaly to this Time. They even start discussing the ancestors that they already met.

Then Conner and Dahlia ask how far in the future they're from, and everyone hesitates, wondering how to break it to them.

They're sidetracked by a new voice, sleepily asking what's going on. Everyone looks over to see a six-year-old!Sly standing in the doorway, having been woken up by the noise.

Past!Sly realizes there are five new people and is super excited to meet them!! And asks a million questions!

It's when Past!Sly gets to Future!Sly that things go a little heartbreaking. The conversation is like:

Past!Sly: "My name's Sly! Are you a Cooper? You look like a Cooper! You're a raccoon and you have the cane and everything! Are you a cousin or something?

Future!Sly: "Actually, I'm from the future! And my name's also Sly!"

Past!Sly: "Wow that's cool! Isn't it cool mom and dad?!"

Future!Sly: "Yeah, mom and dad. Isn't that cool?"

And yeah they don't even have to say it because as soon as both Slys were side-by-side with nearly identical grins… it clicked.

It takes a little bit to put Past!Sly to bed. Then they go back to talking.

However, Dahlia realized something. The way Sly had reacted to them, to this house. She knows something happens. And she asks.

At first, the gang refuses to tell them. Because Timelines. But Conner and Dahlia say that while they're not going down without a fight, they're not going to change it. Just tell them how long.

Of course once Sly starts confessing to that, pretty much most of the incident gets discussed. Including some things Carmelita and Penelope didn't know about because Sly hadn't felt up to sharing (like, they knew how his parents died but they didn't know Sly was there).

Sly mentions Clockwerk and we hints to things about Clockwerk. Even Conner doesn’t 100% know what’s up with Clockwerk’s hatred of Coopers, as that got lost over time. But he does know that Clockwerk is dangerous and isn’t surprised that’s how he gets killed.

After that, it turns into recapping everything else in Sly's life. Like how he met the rest of the Gang and all their adventures. Not every detail, but some of the bigger jobs or more fun anecdotes. Or really stupid decisions. And the fact that Sly and Carmelita are planning a wedding and baby is already on the way.

Eventually they get around to what they're supposed to be doing here. Apparently, this is right before Conner pulled that job that Le Paradox's dad was arrested over.

They assume that Le Paradox is teaming up with his own father and intending to turn the tables on what happened that night, solidifying their legacy and getting Conner arrested.

Well two can play at that game! They have a whole team to take them on.

For now they get some sleep because its like 3 am now.

The next day they meet two new people. Alice LaChance and her daughter Daphne, the Cooper's Rabbit neighbors. Sly is hit with nostalgia and a little guilt for kind of forgetting about them because of the trauma and being dumped in an orphanage but you know. Daphne is the same age as Past!Sly and was his best friend back then. Alice was mostly the babysitter when Conner and Dahlia were working, and isn't super involved in the heists, but does have a few tricks up her sleeves.

The whole group plans and bonds together and goes through all the hoops casing the joint and getting past security and eventually Sly and Conner face off against LeParadox and his father. Obviously they win.

But there are complications. The changes in the Timeline that LeParadox caused made the cops show up early. The place is surrounded and the usual escape routes are covered. Again, LeParadox wanted to make sure Conner couldn't slip away even if he failed the heist. But that's backfired now.

They're panicking and trying to think of a plan when Carmelita spies the one leading the arrest. She just laughs at their luck before saying they have a plan.

The Cooper gang all hide, with only Carmelita and the handcuffed LeParadoxes in plain view for Inspector Diego Fox.

Carmelita explains the truth. That she's his daughter from the future and was chasing a gang of criminals put together by LeParadox.

But she also tells him that to preserve that future, he has to let the Coopers go. Even emphasizing that without the Coopers, the world would be even more fucked in the future. Also letting a "if you don't help this future exist then you're also erasing your future grandkid" slip in.

Diego is, understandably, thrown for a loop. But after Carmelita proves she's really who she says she is, he does listen.

The cop in him really doesn't want to let the Coopers go. But… much like Carmelita, he knows that the world isn't all black and white. If he has to let them go for the greater good, then, well, as far as anyone else will know, only LeParadox Sr. was involved in tonight's heist.

There's no cliffhanger damn it(Other than the potential hints about Clockwerk’s past that could be used for another game)! Everyone goes back to the Future, LeParadox is thrown in jail, much to the super confusion of Carmita's superiors.

The Gang gets back to smaller heists and busts, along with wedding planning and a baby.

The last thing is an epilogue: Sly reconnecting with Alice and Daphne.

Alice is still in that same house. Sly takes a quick visit to his old house too. It's abandoned now, and run down. Violent deaths of criminals don't help real estate sales.

Alice is shocked but happy to see Sly. One of the first things she does is apologize though. For not being able to help. Not with the fact that Conner and Dahlia were killed, because she couldn't have done much that night. But for what happened after.

After that night, when she found out that Sly was spared, she tried to find him. But he was already lost in the system.

Sly reassures her that it's okay. He knows she tried and honestly, after all the Timeline Shenanigans, he's really come to terms with the fact that despite the bad things in this Timeline, he wouldn't trade it for anything.

The epilogue ends with Alice telling Sly about Daphne and her wife, and Sly inviting all of them to the wedding.

#Sly Cooper #Thieves in Time Rewrite

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florenceandthemachine · 4 years

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happy chapter! yes I know I missed last week and I've updated the chapter count to reflect. my state is cold as fuck and also somehow on fire and the Big Sad hit me real hard so I had to take a weekend to be dead. love you all.

Chapters: 3/4 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)

”Alright, Eddie.”

No, it was not alright. It was not alright at all.

“I’m starting to worry about you.”

Eddie felt his bed dip as Buck sat beside him, groaning in response, rolling over in a desperate attempt to hide his shame.

“Chris is about ready to call in for a rope rescue, and you’re still not out of bed. I may not understand why you’re meeting your parents for lunch today, but you are, so get up.”And therein lied his shame. Eddie didn’t need a reminder. His parents had spent all of ten minutes in his living room the night prior—annoyingly vague about why they were there in the first place, insisting that even though they were just ‘passing through’ they still wanted to spend some time with their grandson.

Not their son. Just their grandson. Which was totally fine and didn’t bother Eddie at all.

Eddie had spent every one of those ten minutes clenching his teeth so hard he thought he would pop a crown, but ultimately agreed to their request (maybe a little quicker than he would have liked, but he had done less for more when it came to making sure Chris stayed in bed). As bad as that was, though, he wasn’t sure what was worse—the fact that he was so hesitant to spend some time with his parents, or the fact that the moment they left, all he felt was guilt.

He knew that he wasn’t the crazy one here; but even then, it was hard to ignore how it sounded, feeling so unhappy—so hesitant—to spend time with his own parents. He knew exactly how it looked for him, because what kind of son was chomping at the bit to rip his own parents head off, just for wanting to spend some time with their family?

It should have been a perfectly reasonable request. It should have been something Eddie was happy to do. It should not have been something that set Eddie’s teeth on edge, that tripped up his sixth sense like no other, the soldier's sense that he had developed in Afghanistan buzzing in the base of his skull like a beehive. It felt like something was about to go incredibly wrong, and it felt fucking disgusting to have that reaction triggered by his own parents, but he couldn’t deny that he was afraid history would repeat itself.

Maybe he really was a garbage person.

The guilt only got worse, surprise surprise, after they left and Eddie discovered Buck standing in the kitchen, where Eddie had told him to stay. He had all but forgotten about Buck. How could he forget an entire person?

Garbage person, strike two.

Eddie wound himself in his blanket even tighter, guilt and shame doing little to motivate him on getting out of bed, but his silence was short lived as his blanket burst into flames just long enough for him to yelp and bolt upright before it completely disintegrated. “You—that’s not—you cheater!”

Buck just laughed, the bastard, idly examining the nails on one hand as he shoved Eddie out of bed with the other. “I’m a demon, you dolt. Of course I cheated. Now,” he started, pushing Eddie upright and all but herding him toward the closet, “why don’t you get dressed and tell me what’s really going on?”

Eddie felt a lump sink into his stomach as he stood up, a harsh breath coming out of his nose as he yanked a pair of pants off of a hanger.

“I’m scared, Buck.”

Either out of shock or respect, Buck remained silent, and Eddie could only spare a glance over his shoulder before he ducked his head, dressing haphazardly. “The last time I saw my parents they tried to... to take him. They were trying to take him from me, and my response was to literally pack Chris up and move across the country. They didn’t reach out for years—it’s been years, Buck—not when Abuela broke her hip, not when Chris changed schools, not when Shannon died. A year goes by, and nothing. And then they send a card, and then I meet you, and now they’re just... here again. And I think they’re going to try again, I think they’re going to—“

Eddie looked down at his hands as he felt the fabric of the shirt he was holding tear beneath his fingertips, staring at the hole, like he couldn’t believe he had just worried a hole through it. He looked up to Buck, guilt and misery written on his face as he tossed the garment aside, hiding his face in his hands as he rubbed at his eyes, dragging his hands down his face shortly after.

“You are going to lunch and I’ll be nearby, but Eddie, listen.” Eddie didn’t realize he was spiraling until Buck stepped forward, grabbing his hands and giving a firm squeeze as he shook his head. When Eddie looked up again, all he could see was Buck—eyes glowing, mouth set, teeth maybe just a little sharper than they were a moment before. “I will never, ever let them—or anyone else—take him from you. Ever.”

“…and Mark says that Washington has one of the biggest volcanoes, but I don’t think that’s true. Ms. Flores and Mr. Beeman says that Mars has volcanoes too, even bigger than any of the ones we have here on Earth!”

“I’m sure it does, buddy. Maybe that’s why it’s the red planet? All the magma?”

“No, Dad, the magma is underground, when the volcano erupts it turns into—hey!” Eddie had a smile on his face as he reached over to steal one of Chris’ fries, grinning as his kid squawked, pushing his dads’ hand away playfully. Their afternoon together had started easy enough; Chris had stolen the show easily, directing the conversation through himself in that effortless way kids managed to do, talking about his school, his friends, his day to day. To this day, Eddie would never understand how this kid had him wrapped around his finger so easily—all it took was the bat of an eye for Eddie to swing through the drive through on the way to the park, and suddenly he was meeting his parents at a picnic table near the playground with arms full of chicken tenders and fries.

Not a great look. Whatever.

Chris had been every bit as ecstatic to see his grandparents as Eddie knew (feared?) he would be, propelling himself forward at a speed that would have made Eddie panic had Buck not spent some significant time over the past few months working on Chris’ physical therapy.

He wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse, how easily it was to use his son as a distraction from whatever nightmarish scenario his parents wanted to bring up, but even that grateful moment was cut short as his father chuckled, reaching forward to tousle Chris’ hair playfully.

“Mark, Flores, Beeman, I can’t even keep up anymore kiddo. Sounds like you’ve had a busy third grade in your new scho—“

“Fourth grade, dad.”

“What?”

“Fourth grade, Dad. Chris is in fourth grade.”

Eddie regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. As good as it felt to even attempt to put his father in his place, he could feel the exact moment that both of his parents swiveled their laser-like attention to him. They were smiling, sure, but Eddie felt like he was back to being a kid again, waiting for the inevitable slip up that would get him grounded.

“Fourth grade, right.” Eddie smiled tensely as his father nodded, gesturing between he and his son. “Of course, we would know that if you bothered to call once in a while. We don’t hear from you on Christmas, birthdays, nothing.

“You know, you can always call us too, not send some letter on the anniversary of my wife’s death like a complete—”

“If we didn’t hear from Pepa regularly, how would we know that you and Chris were even alive?”

“Dad—“

“But we’re doing good.”

Eddie felt his jaw click shut as Chris spoke, his heart swelling with pride as both of his parents turned their gaze again. His mother at least had the decency to look mildly guilty—his father, no such luck.

“Of course you are, kiddo. We’re just trying to make sure that your dad has enough help. There’s been a lot of big changes since you both left Texas—two new schools, new grades, new teachers, your father’s new job, and—“

The death of Chris’ mother, Eddie’s mind provided, angry once again that Shannon was being so disregarded by people who were supposed to be her family.

“Yeah, but we’re still doing good.” Chris said, not looking up from the fries he was dunking into ketchup, smearing only a little bit on his upper lip as he shoved the handful into his mouth. “Dad says that sometimes the hard things make us stronger, but things aren’t even that hard. And Buck says that I have a lot of, um. Initiative! And they both say I’m perfect, so that’s good.”

Eddie didn’t hesitate. He didn’t freeze as his parents turned back over to him, and he certainly didn’t feel his heart sink into his stomach. He just… was trying to un-swallow his tongue, was all. Buck had been the one topic that they had somehow danced around, and Eddie wasn’t sure if he should have been thankful or not that Chris ripped that bandaid off.

He was afraid, to be honest, of that particular aspect of their new lives coming to light—there were few wounds that Eddie’s parents loved rubbing salt in more than his parenting and his financial situation, and suggesting that he had private help for Chris? That was certainly something that hit both of their favorite topics.

“Buck?”

Even if, you know, he had sold his soul instead of provided a monthly stipend.

“Who is Buck?”

“Buck’s great!” Eddie felt himself finally breathe as Chris picked up the slack, his cheerful demeanor impervious to the doom and gloom swarming around both of his grandparents right now. “He’s really smart, and he’s super nice. Plus he makes Dad laugh, which is also nice. And he taught me how to make cootie-catchers! Did you know that they can see into the future?”

Eddie wasn’t panicking. He definitely wasn’t panicking. He definitely wasn’t looking between his mother and his father, trying desperately to come up with something, some excuse, some way to explain the strange name that called Chris perfect and made him laugh.

...Buck really did know how to make him laugh, though. And he did love Chris, that much was clear. And those two thoughts were the only things buzzing around in his head when he opened his fat mouth.

“Edmundo, who is—“

“Buck is my boyfriend.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the moment afterward—his father turned a lovely complexion of purple and red while his mother looked like she had literally seen a ghost, which, hey! Not that far off from the truth. Eddie wasn’t sure if he was just in shock, or if he was having a stroke, or what, but he suddenly felt heavy, grounded for the first time all day, firmly planted in the moment.

So, Eddie decided that Buck was, as of ten seconds ago, his boyfriend. It… made sense, in a way. Fuck, they were basically co-parenting his kid. Chris absolutely adored Buck. And Eddie knew they were sexually and romantically compatible, hell, he knew Buck intimately from his teeth right down to—

“Buck is your what—”

“Buck!”

Eddie was getting very, very tired of being caught by surprise, so it was actually exhausting to have yet another rug pulled out from under him. He turned his head as Chris called out and almost fell out of his seat, seeing who else but the demon in question striding toward them, smiling like the sun,

Honestly, at this point, Eddie should have expected yet another whiplash, but nothing could have prepared him to turn around and see Buck, striding toward him with a big smile on his face, wearing what Eddie could only describe as a “meet the parents” outfit.

If there was another reason as to why Buck would be wearing a sweater vest in California, Eddie would love to hear it.

At the very least, he wasn’t the only one who was shocked. His parents had similar slack jawed looks on their faces as Chris raced toward Buck, who easily wrapped Chris in a huge hug with a “Hey, Superman!” before setting Chris on his hip easily.

Eddie didn’t realize that he was up until he was already moving, trying to think of how he could explain this, but Buck was quick on the draw—keeping Chris balanced in one arm, he drew Eddie in easily with the other, kissing his cheek, murmuring against his skin easily.

“Thought you could use some backup from your boyfriend.”

...oh, right. Demon. Probably heard the whole thing. Cool, that was definitely a cool thing and not embarrassing at all. Eddie felt his own hand fall into Buck’s as they started to walk back toward his parents, a weight writhing in his stomach, only partially subdued by the warmth burning pleasantly through his bones from the small contact he shared with Buck, looking over as Buck set Chris back down, grinning at the giggling ten year old like he wanted nothing more out of this life.

“Mom, Dad, this is Buck. Buck, these are my parents.” Eddie was half tempted to let the moment stew in a silent awkwardness before starting introductions, but Buck spoke up before he could do anything, extending his now-free hand to Eddie’s father first. “Evan Buckley, Eddie’s told me a lot about you. Glad to meet you both.”

Huh. Eddie never thought to even ask if Buck had a first and last name. He always thought it was just, ‘Buck’.

It was comforting for him to see the good, Catholic guilt push both of his parents to accept the greeting with an incredibly pained smile and a handshake of their own, as much as he knew they both wanted to pretend he wasn’t there.

“So! Evan.” His mother started, always the diplomat. “What do you do?”

“I’ve known I was bisexual from, like, sophomore year. I brought boyfriends home in highschool! Why is this so hard for you to wrap your head around?”

Long since abandoning the idea of civility, Eddie’s voice was tired, watching as Buck pushed Chris on the swingset across the park from their little picnic bench. Chris had all but dragged Buck over there, subconsciously (or maybe consciously, though Eddie hated thinking of that) feeling when Eddie needed some time to yell at his parents.

Which he definitely, definitely wanted to do. Because Buck was a fucking delight, he answered every question perfectly, he complimented, he flattered, he smiled, and his parents had given him absolutely nothing back.

Now, he was actually finding himself… jealous. Because he would have sold his fucking left leg to just be over there, with his kid and his… Buck, instead of here, with the firing squad. Watching the two of them together was nice, though, definitely a memory he would treasure later—right now, it was providing just enough serotonin to keep him from jumping off a bridge.

“Because you’re not like that, not really!” His mother’s voice was pleading where his fathers had been firm, but Eddie couldn’t really tell the difference between the two when they were both parroting each other. “Eddito, you can’t expect us to believe this is just... happening now. In highschool, that was one thing. I am your mother, we are your parents. No one knows you better than we do!”

Eddie threw his hands into the air, turning it into a wave at the last moment when Chris looked over, trying to keep his face relatively neutral. “Mom, you don’t know the first thing about me, apparently, but I’m starting to think that might go both ways. Maybe I don’t know the two of you, either. For starters, I had no idea my parents were so fucking mean.”

The innocent look his father shot back at him made him want to puke. “Eddie, I can’t help it if pointing out the truth seems a little mean to you. That woman leaves you—”

“That woman was my wife, and she died, next topic.”

“—leaves you,” his father repeated, ignoring what Eddie had said yet again, “and now I’m supposed to believe that you, what. Decided that instead of finding someone who could give Chris what he needs, you just looked for the first man waving a rainbow flag and that was that?”

“Dad, I swear to God, if you insult Buck again we’re done for the day.”

If Eddie was surprised by his own assertiveness, he was alone in that—his father wasted no time in scoffing, shaking his head.

“I have every right to criticize someone spending that much time with my grandson, Edmundo. When was the last time you and Chris went to service? Because if it got around that you were hanging around with someone like that—"

Honestly, there was a certain level of irony here that Eddie had to appreciate. His conservative, religious parents didn’t like his boyfriend (and, wait, how had Eddie attached Buck to that word so easily?)—not because he was a literal demon from Hell, which would have been a perfectly reasonable thing for two good, God fearing Christians to dislike, but because he was a man.

“Hey, Chris, we gotta get going! Come say bye, buddie!”

All that aside, the stunned silence that followed as his father struggled to find his voice was sweet, so sweet, even if it was incredibly short lived.

“Really, Eddie? One little disagreement and you’re just going to walk away? We don’t see Chris for two years, and the first time we visit is when you decide to—”

“Chris is going to come over and say goodbye.” Eddie interrupted, voice dangerously low as he looked up to where Buck was helping him down from the jungle gym. “If you try and play him against me with this, you will lose. If you try to play him against Buck, you will lose and I will laugh at you. But we are going home now, and if you give him any grief about that, if you try to make him feel bad that you don’t come up to visit more often, if you do anything that puts a frown on his face, that’s it. You will never see him again. Ever. And I’ve already kept one promise to you once in the past five minutes, you wanna push for two?”

Eddie wasn’t sure if he was burning that bridge or crossing it, but he was all smiles when Buck and Chris rejoined them, easily slotting himself against Buck’s side as his mother and father each hugged and kissed Chris’ head. Eddie may have let his eagle eye slide a little bit—he could tell my Chris’ giggling protests that they weren’t saying anything uncouth, and even if they were, he knew Buck would put a stop to it before anything else.

Waiting until his mother released Chris, Eddie leaned and kissed Buck on the cheek, tilting his head back to the truck. “Chris, you wanna go with Buck and get buckled in? I’m gonna walk your grandparents to their car.”

Chris took off happily with Buck in tow, and Eddie allowed himself a moment to feel all warm inside watching Buck take Chris’ hand happily as they walked away before he had to turn and face his parents once more. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not that his mother was first to speak, pleading with him while his father unlocked and started their car. “You don’t need to be so sneaky to talk to us, Eddito. You know your father and I just worry.”

“If you want to talk sneaky, let’s talk about your spontaneous road trip to Los Angeles. Have you talked to Abuela? Or Pepa? Because Buck’s met them both, and they both love him. Have you even thought about visiting with them while you’re out here?” Eddie asked, the look on her face answer enough. Eddie sighed, shaking his head as he turned to his father, waiting to see what kind of explanation he would try and bury this in. “You dragged Mom a thousand miles just to interrogate me but you won’t even see the rest of the family?”

He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as his mother shut the door to the passengers seat of the car, and Eddie found himself wishing he could just tune this entire topic out as easily as she seemed to when his father met this gaze again.

“I am just trying to get you to do what is right for Chris.”

“That’s just it! I am what’s best for Chris, and I don’t understand why you can’t accept that. He’s my kid, mine, and if you can’t trust me to do what’s best for him,” Eddie paused, “then I don’t know what I can do to get that across.”

He shook his head as he started to walk back to his car. He had really, really hoped that would be the end of it, but he was well aware that would require luck, which he did not have, his father's voice calling after him making that painfully clear.

“You don’t know what you’re doing, Eddie. When your little… mistake comes crashing down, we will be the only ones here for Chris! You can’t just turn your back on family!” Eddie felt his hackles rise as he walked away, ears ringing as he dug his heel into the dirt and looked over his shoulder.

“You turned your back on us—on me—a long time ago.” Eddie’s voice was low as he opened his door, slumping into the driver seat like a string had been cut, hands shaking as he started the truck.

“What was your family like?”

Eddie’s voice was soft from his place against Buck’s side, tucked up under one of Buck’s arms, the warmth from the demon eliminating any need for a blanket.

Eddie had made it exactly three blocks (just long enough to be out of view of his parents) before Buck had demanded he pull the car over so they could switch. He was more than happy to give up any responsibility, sliding into the back seat beside his kid, letting himself be completely engrossed in whatever Chris was listening to for the rest of the ride home.

Buck had been the one who drove them home, made dinner, entertained Chris while Eddie showered. Buck was the one who helped with everything along the way just like he always did. And now Buck was literally, literally anchoring him into reality, a comforting weight along Eddie’s side.

He couldn’t tell what Marvel movie was on—honestly, he had kind of stopped caring about any of them after Black Panther—but they were still Chris’ favorite, and he was sure that Chris would have been livid at them for talking if he hadn’t fallen asleep in the first five minutes of the movie. He wanted to save the moment like a snapshot forever; Chris’ head against Buck’s thigh, sprawled out over the both of their laps, his soft snores doing little to mask Eddie’s question (or Buck’s snort in return). “Eddie, my parents were like... completely crazy. Yours are getting up there, but mine were insane. My mom...” Buck shut his mouth as Chris shifted, waiting until he was settled to resume.

“My mom is the reason I got into this position in the first place.”

Eddie felt his face fall as Buck spoke, repositioning himself to sit up a little straighter beside Buck, eyes trained to the demons’ face. Buck was smiling, a sense of bitter irony on his face as he pushed some hair from Chris’ forehead. “When my dad died, my mom... didn’t take it well. She kind of fell off the deep end. Maddie was lucky, she got out before the shit hit the fan. Anyway, my mom and I tried everything—therapy, grief counseling, the power of prayer—seriously.” Buck said, a smile on his face as Eddie laughed, shoulders shaking.

“You’re such an ass.” Buck said, but he was smiling as well, shaking his head. “Anyway, when that didn’t work, my mom tried the other route. She was, like, off the deep end at that point. Talismans, ouija boards, drugging herself up to talk to the dead. I probably should have turned around when I came home to find a pentagram painted on the floor, but.”

Buck shrugged like this was the easiest thing in the world to announce, but Eddie had long since stopped laughing, his jaw a little slack. “Oh, Buck...” He hated how weak his voice sounded, but Buck brushed it off, continuing on.

“No big deal. She sucked at Latin, turns out. I got these devilishly good looks, and she got torn apart by hellfire.” Eddie choked on a laugh as Buck beamed at him, because of course he would be making a pun at a time like this. He stifled the rest of his laugh as Buck squeezed him a little tighter, shaking his head as Chris let out another little snore.

It was easy enough to maneuver Chris into his arms, carrying him to his bedroom, though he certainly wasn’t about to object to Buck’s abject closeness, less than a half step behind Eddie as he put Chris to bed. It wasn’t until he stood to leave did he actually see the look on Buck’s face as he tousled Chris’ hair and said goodnight; it was incredibly soft, dopey even, and the only reason Eddie could make that comparison is because Hen had told him plenty of times that was the same way he looked at Chris.

He just never thought he would see that look on someone else.

Eddie kept his voice low as he closed Chris’ door, starting the walk back to his own room slowly, swaying easily in step beside Buck as he scratched at his head. “Do you remember, when we met, you told me—“

“How incredibly hot you were, how good you were with your tongue, how—“

“Jesus, Buck, no, you fucking pervert. I was going to say, you told me that I wasn’t being normal about this.” Eddie said, and Buck hummed, his hand idly reaching out toward Eddie’s. “What are most of your contracts like?”

Buck snorted as he tugged Eddie into the bedroom, turning off the television, the lights, even locking the front door with a wave of his hand. “I’ve never fucked another contract, if that’s what you’re asking.” he started, pulling the sheets down with another wave and a laugh as Eddie threw his shirt at Buck’s head. “God, Eddie, they’re fucking assholes. Everyone’s power hungry, or money hungry, or just stupid as fuck, seriously. In like, a whole decade, I’ve never had anyone make a contract for someone else before. But you…”

Eddie looked up as Buck pulled him closer again, planting a kiss on his lips. Part of Eddie wanted to shy away, wanted to say the boyfriend thing had all but been an act, but he had given up on that about thirty seconds after Buck told his father to fuck off.

“Even when you were drunk, you only cared about what was best for your son. That’s why it was so easy for me to make a contract with you. Seeing how good of a person you were, how much you loved your kid? No question.”

Buck’s voice had dropped down low as he sunk into the bed, making grabby hands at Eddie until he followed suit, finding himself fitting perfectly in the crook of Buck’s shoulder, resolutely not thinking about the flat plain of muscle beneath his hand as he wrapped an arm around Buck’s midsection. Eddie felt his eyes wander across Buck’s face, his lips, the smooth line of his neck to the little gem on his necklace. “You really think I’m a good father?”

“Eddie, come on.”

When he looked back up at Buck’s face, Eddie felt a spark burn through his spine, meeting Buck’s glowing eyes for the third time in three months and the second time that day. Eddie wasn’t sure who moved (okay, he was definitely the one who had moved) but the kiss was soft, a barely there brush of lips, a pressure that set Eddie’s lips on fire.

“You’re amazing.”

#911 #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #halloweenfic #demon!buck #flospeaks #fic

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whumpiary · 4 years

Text

#15 from this prompt list, requested by @mildly-distressed-bee-with-knees. this spiralled into something entirely else so i very much hope you’re not disappointed!

(also a special mention to @ashintheairlikesnow who, upon me making a vague post about whether to make this spicy or plottish she responded with the galaxy brain concept of “both?????”. thank u!)

[content warnings: starvation/food and hunger talk, implied drugging, intimate whumper, and strong strong dubcon (fade-to-black). stay safe!]

“I’m so hungry”

“I know, darling boy, that’s by design”

Cassius almost gives up straight away at the dismissal. He doesn’t want to argue. He doesn’t want to fight. To be honest, all he really wants to do is bring his hand up to touch the sleeve of Christopher’s cotton pullover, see if it’s as soft as it looks. Christopher never dresses formally when he’s not entertaining. He doesn’t need to. But the fabric is pretty and still probably more expensive than anything Cassius has ever owned and it looks so so soft.

And then the empty aching in his belly sends another fit of dizzy through his head and even though he’s already sitting he steadies himself against the carpet with two flat hands and reminds himself what he’s meant to be doing.

“I want something to eat,” he says through gritted teeth, begging his voice to sound demanding “Give me something to eat”

“Have another chocolate Cassius”

“Don’t want another fuckin’ cho-”

A hand grabs him fast by the jaw, squeezing either side of his slack jaw until his lips pucker like a fish, the inside of his cheeks biting into his teeth.

“Language,” Christopher says, lowering his face to be eye to eye with his charge. Cass scowls but lets his head be lifted as Christopher’s hand slides down, holding him softly by the chin. Cassius doesn’t push away the hand or pull back like he normally might. He’s dizzy. His limbs are heavy. His head’s full of fog and stardust.

“You said you were hungry,” Christopher says, his thumb tracing lightly down Cassius’ jaw, “Are you sure you wouldn’t like another chocolate?"

There’s the sound of crepe paper fluttering against tin foil, and Cassius’ eyes slide down, trying to focus uselessly on the burgundy tin being offered towards him. The chocolates lie in a pretty spiral; individually wrapped, intricately patterned, glistening like stars in the soft light. Cassius lifts an absent hand, barely aware of how his fingers dance along the edge of the tin, as though coaxing a wine glass to sing. It would be so easy to just pick one up and out, unwrap the pretty golden foil and let it fall to the floor, lift it to his lips and… Christopher shakes the box again impatiently and Cassius jerks his hand back with a start. The rustling seems to meet his ears half a beat too late. He blinks as his mind comes back to him.

"Are they your chocolates or mine?” Cass asks, looking up to the man at the desk.

“Does it matter?”

Cass tries for a glare but his eyes won’t focus on anything solid, the soft light blurring and crystallising in front of his eyes. He gives up, letting his eyes drift, instead. Across the stubbled jaw, a little too softened by age to be chiseled. Across greying blonde hair, just long enough to show a wave. Across hazel eyes, almost pretty, framed by crows feet and laugh lines. Was Christopher attractive once, maybe? When he was younger? Is he still? Cassius can’t see it anymore. He can’t remember if he ever could.

“Yes or no, Cassius?” Christopher prompts, voice hard with impatience.

“I want dinner”

“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘No thank you, Christopher’”

“The words I’m looking for you banned last week”

The older man sighs deeply, seemingly exasperated, and puts the lid back in place with a hard snap, “Fine”

Cassius regrets saying no as soon as the chocolates are out of sight. His stomach lurches again, clenching around the nothing it keeps ruthlessly trying to digest. He leans his head against the leg of the desk as a fresh wave of dizziness hits him, and he squeezes his eyes shut. His head aches, just a little, a constant pressure across the front and down the sides of his neck. He probably needs water too. But the whiskey from earlier quenched him enough that he doesn’t feel thirsty anymore.

“I want dinner,” he repeats. Christopher’s hand slams down flat on the desk, enough to make his glass jump, landing with a little small tink. It’s a warning. A… firm suggestion.

“Enough, Cassius,” Christopher says, voice quiet, carefully level “You are in my house, and you will eat when I say you can eat”

“I just want food. I’m so hungry I can’t even think”

“Why don’t you ask me nicely, Cassius? Maybe I’ll change my mind”

Cass almost growls, almost bares his teeth like an animal and launches himself at Christopher’s face. Instead he clenches his jaw, listening to his own teeth grind together. He hates when Christopher does this. He hates having to perform like a show dog. But if it’s the line Christopher’s told him to toe. If it’s the trick that will earn him food…

“Cʜʀɪsᴛᴏᴘʜᴇʀ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜi-"

"Uh, uh, uh. Careful. There are a lot of somethings in this room I could give you to eat,” he says, turning away from his work to look down at the boy on the floor next to him "All sorts of horrible, sickness inducing things. I’m sure that’s not you’re asking for”

“Cʜʀɪsᴛᴏᴘʜᴇʀ, ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ sᴏᴍᴇ ғᴏᴏ-”

“Are you certain that’s what you want?” he says, cupping Cassius’ chin in his hand again “The only food I have here is in that tin”

He wraps his knuckles on the ornate lid of the chocolate box. A sharp double tap. And Cass does growl then, does bare his teeth, tearing his head out of Christopher’s grip. He sits up on his knees and for a moment he doesn’t feel the nausea from the movement or the weight of the fog in his head as he fights.

“Why won’t you feed me?”

“Why won’t you ask me nicely?”

“I’ve been nice”

Christopher smiles, eyebrows shooting up in mock surprise. He pushes out from the desk and leans back in his chair.

“Have you?” he asks, voice playful and teasing.

Even through the fog in his head, and the weight of his bones, and the sparkling of the light behind Christopher’s head that keeps dragging at his attention, Cassius feels a horrifying thrill surge through him at the shift of the energy in the room.

This was Christopher’s favourite new game, Cassius had realised over the last few weeks. Finding a particularly enticing opportunity for something interesting to happen and then clearing the stage so he could watch the events unfold. No direction. No orders. Just interest in what Cassius will do. Like opening your front door nice and wide, just to see if your guest will walk through the threshold without needing to be invited in.

Cassius knows the rules of this game. He knows how to win this game.

He props himself up, unsteady but upright, and reaches forward, a hand on either one of Christopher’s knees. Easy smile.

“I could always be nicer,” he says, voice low, looking up through his lashes. He lets his hands curl just enough around Christopher’s thighs, running up towards the belt of his jeans and then back. “If that’s what you want”

Christopher tilts his head back, keeping eye contact, parting his lips in a little sigh. Open the door. Extended invite. See how far the guest will walk past the threshold.

“You tell me, Cassius. Is that what I want?”

Cassius pulls himself up, taking advantage of the way the dizziness tilts him forward until he’s sitting on the Christopher’s lap in a lazy straddle. This kind of want is one of the easiest to feel. Base. Simple. Uncomplicated and animal. Even through the fog in Cassius’ head, continuously tilting the world off its axis, it is so so easy. Like sliding a key into its corresponding lock. He loops his arms around the older man’s neck, his face splitting in a relaxed grin as he finds the threads of Christopher’s wants, pulsing like the bass notes of a song, tangling with his own.

Darling boy- just move in to the- hope he does that thing with his tong- so hungr- when the left- darling darling boy- food give me food give me food give me- fucking delicious

Cassius plants a kiss on the corner of Christopher’s jaw. The mess in his head feels less like fog and more like a cloud he can ride higher and higher.

“I think you want it very much, sir” he sats, lips grazing against the older man’s jaw as he drops his voice low. Christopher tuts his tongue, his hands tensing along the small of Cassius’ back.

“You know I don’t like it when you call me that”

“But you like what I do to you when I call you that,” Cass murmurs, letting his teeth find Christopher’s earlobe, letting his hips roll closer still. The older man lets out a low hum of agreement and Cassius laughs, nuzzling into the vibrations of his throat. Christopher’s hands find his waist, his thumbs lifting his shirt just slightly, running light little lines over his skin. Cassius keens at the touch and Christopher lets out a soft chuckle.

“You enjoy this too much, darling boy”

Cassius’ breath only hitches for a fraction of a moment. His hands don’t falter at all. He leans in, pressing soft lips to Christopher’s and letting a low groan fall into his mouth. Cassius does enjoy this. He has to enjoy it. It’s safer to enjoy it. Easier. There’s no space for shame or guilt or fear or questioning when he enjoys it. Just focus and pleasure and want. He’s not going to let it anything else in now.

“I still might not feed you,” the older man murmurs against his skin “You understand that, don’t you?”

Cassius smiles leaning his head back as Christopher’s hands run up to wrap carefully around his throat. He sinks into Christopher – into his body and into his thoughts – like this is the only thing he could want in the world. Not food. Not rest. Not freedom. And falling back into the fog, back into the echo of Christopher’s wants pressing into his head, back into that space in Cassius’ mind where survival locks in and takes over, that’s almost true.

“And you haven’t even mentioned Chook”

Cassius tries to pretend the skip of his heart, the flip of his stomach is just arousal, just excitement.

“If I didn’t know any better,” Christopher says, his thumbs running over the younger man’s Adam’s apple “I’d say you’re starting to like this”

Cass closes his eyes, breathing into the tension of the hands at his throat. It doesn’t matter. None of it fucking matters. He lets the fog wrap around him, lets Christopher’s wants flood him so much they may as well be his own.

So good when he- intoxicati- darling b- that throat is made for-

"Cʜʀɪsᴛᴏᴘʜᴇʀ, ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴄʜᴏᴄᴏʟᴀᴛᴇ”

Christopher groans low in his throat as his hands drift down Cassius’ chest, mindlessly reaching for the box beside him. He runs his mouth against the length of Cassius’ throat as he unwraps the sweet for him.

“God I love it when you do that”

#intimate whumper #defiant whumpee #dubcon cw #noncon cw #drugging cw #starvation cw #food cw #yeesh i hope thats all of them??#power dynamics #mind magic #just so that tag isnt confusing lmao: christopher isnt using mind control #just ypour usual run of the mill bastardry #cassius #christopher #backstory backstory backstory backstory

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spinelesbians · 4 years

Note

I’m always a slut for some angst! Spinel x Reader with anxiety/depression/self harm issues? Totally okay if you don’t want to, I understand that it makes people uncomfortable

This turned into a drabble. Hope you don't mind.

TW: Mentions of self harming, depression, anxiety, and other self hating related issues. Resolves with comfort.

Word Count: +1,300

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

You had always been an outcast. Ever since you were brought into society at a young age, things felt stacked against you. Other kids would shove you around or make fun of the way you acted. It only progressed the older all of you became, and soon began taking its toll on your health. Mentally, you felt broken beyond comparison. The constant rumors and backstabbing people left you hating every fiber of your being. Why did you have to act like this? Why did you have to always be so awkward? Can't you just function like a normal human being? Those negative thoughts plagued your self image, leaving scars on how you viewed yourself everyday. Anything you said, anything you did - it all wound up in failure.

You were a failure.

The rest of your school years felt like a blur. It wasn't until you graduated from community college and moved that you started to have some.. positive changes in your life. While moving in itself was enough of a stressor to send you spiralling down, you were thankful that it was over with in less than a few months. Moving from a big city to a small town along the boardwalk was a drastic change in your life, too, but something you welcomed. After all, no one here really knew who you were nor where you came from. They knew nothing about your past, your ailments, nor why you wore so many sweaters despite the summer days bearing down. The dramatic shift in places was something you needed, providing a fresh new start with brand new folks.

It wasn't long before the townsfolk began to see you as one of their own. You even got accustomed to the "Gems" you've seen wandering about as well - it was a long story that you would hear eventually. You didn't really see them as anyone different - except for the fact they were brightly colored and had some social customs that weren't common with humans. It didn't really change the fact you got along quite well with many of them, even growing to befriend quite a number of gems.

One of them being the lovely pink gem by the name of Spinel.

The two of you met at the arcade, you just wanting a break from work and deciding to hit up the machines. It wasn't long before the mound of tickets piled up, and you were catching the eyes of a few other players. One in particular was Spinel, who seemed keen on beating you at Galaga more than anything. After a few head to head rounds you still wound up beating her score, leaving the two of you laughing and joking with one another about a rematch. After that the two of you kept piling tickets after tickets, before cashing them in for the largest prizes you both could get. While you settled on a weird globe that had "lasers" on the inside, Spinel settled for the largest teddy bear they had at the counter. And that's how you wound up with the gem's name and number punched into your phone, with the nickname being set to "Player Two."

From then on arcade meetups were pretty much daily, once you got out of work you didn't waste any time to meet Spinel for another long night of games. When the quarters ran dry though, you both went to play video games at your place - teaching the gem how to use a controller and also about the various stories from the game collection you had. She was quick to learn the basics, and soon the two of you dueled it out over various fighter games. It was a quickly budding friendship, neither of you worrying how fast you were growing close. Everything seemed natural in a way, even as you both argued over who was the best character to main in Skullgirls.

Eventually those feelings turned into romantic attraction towards one another, and Spinel was the first to break down with a confession. She was so certain you would run off and never come back - but what she didn't prepare for was the confession in return. From then on the two of you were inseparable, always attached at the hip during everything. There were no lies and no doubts during your relationship, minus the occasional arguments over chores. Everything just felt right.

And that's what scared you the most.

Spinel never learned about your depression, your constant torment, and your scars. You had done an impeccable job about hiding those things, and she had no idea what sort of failure you really were. In a way you felt guilty for having to hide this, but you also knew it was for the best if she never found out. She had enough emotional trauma already, ever since you learned of her past with Pink Diamond. Surely something as stupid as your depression wasn't worth bringing up anytime soon. If anything it'd just weigh even more on the gem's already bruised soul, one that was just beginning to heal. That wasn't fair to her, and so you vowed never to let her find out.

But sometimes, life can only be so perfect.

You finally slipped up after a year or so into your relationship. Something just didn't register in your brain as you forgot to pull your usual hoodie on for the day out, and it didn't click until you saw Spinel's horrified face with her eyes directly at your arms. That terror filled, broken expression was enough to slap realization right into your face. Immediately you tried to hide the scars behind your back, waves of guilt and shame flooding your senses. If it weren't for the tears welling up and your throat tightening at each passing second, you would be mumbling some sort of excuse right about now. However, no excuse could explain the sight Spinel had laid eyes on. And it hurt.

Spinel was first to break the silence, her voice wavering as she asked to approach you. While every fiber of your being screamed to say no, the jerk of your head went against those thoughts. Taking that as a yes, the gem was by your side in moments, her own eyes glittering with worry and concern. " May I.. see.. yer arms again, (Y/N)? " Her words are incredibly slow, as if she's scared that her voice will shatter you then and there. But again, you don't protest - slowly pulling your arms from behind your back and into Spinel's waiting palms. Her gloved hands are surprisingly gentle, even on the newer scars that have yet to heal. She takes her gaze down to them, the silence starting to stifle the two of you. Staring was the one thing you hated about others seeing your scars.

It didn't last, though, as Spinel lifted your arms to her lips. With a surprisingly gentle touch, she ghosted her kisses across the numerous scars - reaching anywhere and everywhere. At first you were about to jerk away, but the overwhelming feeling of being loved in this moment kept you still. No one had ever taken the time to just accept them. Cherish them. But Spinel was making sure to kiss every last mark, wordlessly loving each and every scar along your body. Even when she ran out of scars to kiss, she trailed them to your face - nuzzling closely as her words finally made it back to her lips. " I know you probably hid this from me.. f'awhile, yeah? " Your nod made her hum in confirmation, " ...S'okay now. I still love ya, (Y/N). And we can talk about this when yer ready, but for now.. let me love you. Let me show you how much I love you. "

It wasn't long after that did those scars begin to heal.

#asks #text #text post #my writing #writing #drabble #tw: self harm #tw: depression #tw: anxiety

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hunter-the-sad-skeleton · 4 years

Photo

Chapter one “Frights, Scaremera, Ectoplasm!!”

“Whose Laptop is that? I think I know.

Its owner is quite sad though.

It really is a tale of woe,

I watch her frown. I cry hello.

She gives her Laptop a shake,

And sobs until the tears make.

The only other sound's the break,

Of distant waves and birds awake.

The Laptop is Cold, Small and deep,

But she has promises to keep,

Until then she shall not sleep.

She lies in bed with ducts that weep.

She rises from her bitter bed,

With thoughts of sadness in her head,

She idolises being dead.

Facing the day with never ending dread.”

It had been a rough day; she hadn’t slept at all last night, she snapped at her teacher for snapping her out of spacing out, she snapped at her best friend, her mom had been rougher than usual, there was no way that the day could get any better. She remembered where it was stored: third drawer on the bedside table her dad bought her one year for her birthday. It wasn’t fair, she thought. It wasn’t fair how one person’s actions could send one other person’s life spiraling down the drain like a small rubber duck down a toilet. She noted how when she picked it up, her shoulders grew heavier than earlier. She knew what she wanted; she wanted the pain to go away. So why was she hesitating? She took a deep breath. She knew the door was locked, so she could do as she pleased. She shut her eyes tightly, bringing the ‘42 up to the edge of her head, and-

BANG.

“NOVA.” Hellen barked, slamming a fist down on the desk Nova had been stationed at.

Nova yelped in surprise, falling out of the chair she accidentally fell asleep reading in, book falling onto the desk. Hellen sighed heavily, not surprised in the slightest. Nova sprung up, standing up straight. “Miss Hellen, ma’am! I was working, I promise!” Nova blurted out.

Hellen shook her head. “Nova, we’ve talked about this.” She sighed heavily. Nova frowned, looking down at the tip of her tail.

“I...I know, Ma’am...I swear it wasn’t that busy…” Nova whimpered. Hellen tilted her head to the side.

“Yeah, because everyone saw you asleep, so they went over to me!!” Steward snapped. Nova winced, sliding down in her seat at the raised voice. “I missed two breaks, Nova!! TWO!!!” Steward sighed.

“Steward, that will do, I will see that this is dealt with immediately.” Hellen assured. Nova whimpered, backing up slightly. Hellen held her hand out, gesturing at the book Nova was reading.

“Mmm…...But…” Nova whimpered.

“Hand it over, Nova.” Hellen ordered. Nova whined, reluctantly handing it over. “Thank you. You will get this back in a few weeks. No sooner.” Hellen said.

“A FEW WEEKS?!?” Nova choked. That wasn’t fair!!! She’d JUST gotten back to reading it!!! “That’s not fair!” Nova accidentally snapped.

“If that’s how you feel, you won’t get it back.” Hellen bit back, clearly experienced with the reaction. Nova started tearing up. No, no, no, no, no!!!!

“What do I need to do to get it back?!” Nova blurted out. Nova slammed her hands over her mouth at the sudden outburst, cursing herself under her breath.

“To get it back?” Hellen asked.

“Yes! I-I’ll do anything!!” Nova cried out in desperation.

“Well, if you say so~!” Hellen hummed.

This STINKS. They could have at least given her the smell eliminator spray. Nova sighed heavily as she mopped up the women's restroom, having accepted her fate of not having her book back.

“Ya missed a spot, bud~!” A Goob grinned. Nova growled under her breath.

“Back off, Fludd.” Nova hissed.

“Aww, did I hit a sore spot~?” Fludd taunted.

“Just leave me alone, Fludd.” Nova hissed, now almost angry.

“Or what~?” Fludd grinned.

“Ya won’t like it.” Nova warned.

“Won’t like what~?” Fludd teased.

“I’LL RIP YOUR ECTOPLASM OUT OF YOUR TAILHOLE AND THEN FLUSH IT DOWN THIS TOILET, IF YA DON’T SHUT UP!!!!!” Nova yelled.

“AHEM.” Nova gulped, knowing that if she weren’t already dead, she certainly would be now! “What are you doing?” Steward asked coldly, knowing exactly what was happening.

“Fludd won’t leave me alone!!” Nova explained.

“Just ignore him.” Steward said flatly.

“He keeps bugging me!” Nova whimpered. Steward rose an eyebrow.

“And? Keep going.” Steward ordered. Nova huffed before getting back to mopping.

As Steward left, Fludd grinned widely. “ ‘S a shame, really~!” Fludd grinned.

Nova ignored him, speeding up her pace.

“I mean really, you’re dead at-what, 16? And you’re already wastin’ away~?” Fludd hummed.

Nova growled under her breath, trying her best to remain calm. Fludd got an idea and went to put it to work.

“And I mean really, who leaves their stupid, unloveable, single, worthless sister alone with their abusive mom anywaays-!!” Fludd yelped as Nova lunged at him, intent on harming him.

“SHUT UP ALREADY!!!!! YOU DIDN’T KNOW HER, YOU CERTAINLY DON’T KNOW ME, AND YOU ABSOLUTELY HAVE NO REASON TO KNOW EITHER OF US!!!!!!!” Nova shouted, not caring if anyone heard. Fludd whimpered, struggling to escape her grip, but it was iron-clad.

“NOVA, THAT IS QUITE ENOUGH!!!” Steward snapped. Nova couldn’t hear him, nor see him; all she could see was red. Pure. Red. How DARE he insult her sister?!? How DARE he call her those horrible names?!? How DARE he feel as if he had ANY right to speak of her, let alone KNOW ANYTHING about her?!? “NOVA, GET OFF FLUDD THIS INSTANT!!!!!” Nova snapped out of it and scrambled up to her tip-tail. “I am VERY disappointed in you, Nova. I thought you would be better.” Steward scolded. Nova’s head drooped in guilt and shame. “You may leave now.” Steward dismissed. Nova nodded, not wanting to push her luck today and floated off to floor 8; her usual relaxation spot. The sounds of the production area were oddly calming.

Nova floated out of the elevator as she reached her destination and realized she forgot her notebook downstairs by her desk. Damn. never getting that back. She sighed in disappointment and settled for just watching Morty and his crew work for the day. It always calmed her down. She silently floated in, catching the crew as they started, she shut off anything on her that could play any form of noise or otherwise disturb filming. She smiled softly as she saw Morty’s enthusiasm. Morty was different from everyone else at the hotel, Nova noticed, in that whenever he smiled, it was practically common courtesy to smile as well, lest you put him down. His smiles were practically contagious. Nova spaced out for a few moments before she was scooped up in a warm hug.

“Nova, mon bon ami!” Morty grinned. Nova jumped at the sudden contact before hugging back and smiling. “How are you today?” Morty asked, grin never faltering. That was when Nova’s smile faltered slightly. He noticed and his bright smile seemed to almost dim a bit. “Tout va bien?” He asked worriedly. Nova didn’t respond. “Quelque chose est arrivé?” He reworded. Nova sighed.

“Trucs de travail normal.” Nova grimaced.

“Ah. That Coincé Steward annoying you again?” Morty asked. Nova shook her head no.

“It wasn’t him this time.” Nova chuckled nervously.

“Mademoiselle Gravely?” Morty asked.

“Mademoiselle Gravely.” Nova affirmed.

“That little Chi-I mean-” Morty started.

“I know what you were gonna say, Morty, don’t censor yourself on my behalf.” Nova said nonchalantly.

“What did she take away?” Morty asked.

“A book I only recently picked back up. Now I gotta work myself down to the bone to get it back and I may not even WANT to pick it back up afterwards!!!” Nova sighed heavily.

“Hm. a typical case of Jeu de puissance.” Morty mumbled.

“Of what?” Nova asked.

“Power play. Putting another in their place, example being, her taking something you treasure from you if you don’t work diligently.” Morty explained.

“Ah.” Nova nodded. A blanket of silence fell upon the room, silent except for the machinery running in the background. Nova checked the time and jumped. “Sorry to run out Morty, break’s over in five minutes!!!” Nova yelped, running to the elevator.

“But the elevator takes-” Morty started.

“Ten, I know!” Nova yelped, hurrying to the elevator and spamming the button, running in as soon as it was open and pressing the button for the lobby floor.

Nova bobbed nervously, speeding out and slamming into something as soon as the elevator doors opened, launching her, and whoever she slammed into, into a pile of luggage. She rubbed her head as she slowly got up. “S-Sorry, s-sir...I was just-” Nova started before looking whoever it was in the face. Oh no. Blue eyes. Blue face. Bellhop cap...MERDE WITH A CAPITAL ‘M’.

“Late for work again is what you were.” Steward winced, getting up and rubbing his head. Nova opened her mouth to explain, but he held his hand up to hush her. “Stop with the excuses and start with the owning up.” Steward snapped.

“I-I know sir, b-b-b-b-but-” Nova started.

“YOU HAVE BEEN SLACKING OFF FOR A FEW MONTHS NOW, NOVA!!!! I’VE BEEN WORKING OVERTIME AND AS SUCH, MY STRESS HAS BEEN THROUGH THE ROOF!!!” Steward snapped. Nova broke eye contact. “YOU CAN’T KEEP DOING THIS, NOVA!!!” Steward barked.

Nova whimpered. “I……….I understand….” Nova whimpered. Steward sighed, pulling Nova into a hug.

“I’m sorry I lost my temper...I haven’t had any good rest for a few months and it’s really starting to get to me, ya know?” Steward apologized. Nova melted into the hug, hugging back.

“I know...It’s been unfair, how long I’ve been slacking off...I’m sorry…” Nova apologized. “Ya know what? I’ll make it up to ya! I’ll work extra hard to make up for it!” Nova grinned. Steward laughed.

“Really now?” He chuckled. Nova nodded violently. “Ya sure?” He humored.

Nova puffed her cheeks out and he laughed loudly. His first genuine laugh in a while and it was at her work ethic?!? How DARE he?!? “I CAN work hard!” Nova dismissed. Nova looked around, gaze landing on a large tan piece of luggage and grinned, floating over and struggling to pick it up. Steward chuckled as she struggled to pick it up, but froze completely once she spoke; “it’s a little heavy, but nothin’ I can’t handle!” He panicked and rushed over, grabbing it instead, obviously struggling to carry it. “Stew? What gives?” Nova asked. He set it down carefully, taking a deep breath.

“Let’s...Start smaller...Huh? That seems too much for ya, so let’s do something smaller!” Steward sputtered.

“You okay, Stew? You’re shaking and stuttering, bud.” Nova asked, worry evident in her voice. Zut. Why’d she have to be so caring?!

“I-I-It’s nothing, Nova! Just typical jitters, yannow?” Steward grinned, sweating nervously. Nova frowned.

“Ya sure, bud?” Nova asked. As Steward was about to shrug it off again, Nova stepped out of her comfort zone, grabbing his hand and holding it softly. “I know when something’s wrong with you.”

ZUT. Steward’s face turned a bright blue at the sudden contact and it seemed in that instant, all his years of knowing how to speak fluent english had gone out the window with a single, simple action. “I-I….” Steward stuttered, words failing.

“Is it relating to…?” Nova implied. He winced before nodding slightly. Nova nodded slightly, letting go of his hand and sitting back. “I understand. I get kinda nervous about talking about that stuff too…” Nova chuckled. Steward thought for a moment before taking a deep breath.

“Remind me-if you’re comfortable with it-how did you die again?” Steward asked. Nova froze. She couldn’t tell him!! He’d FREAK!!

“I…….Stair accident.” Nova lied.

“Stair accident…?” Steward repeated slowly as though asking a child to repeat what they just said.

“Yeah, slipped and fell, hitting my head on the last step. It hurt.” Nova lied.

Steward winced, rubbing his head despite it not being sore or hurting. “Ouch...I’m sorry.” Steward winced. Nova shrugged.

“Maybe that’s why I’m so forgetful and nap-prone!” Nova joked. Steward’s jaw dropped.

“How can you make a joke like that?!” Steward gasped.

“Sometimes ya just gotta laugh at yaself, bud!” Nova explained. Steward’s face grew skeptical.

“Nova, look-” Steward started.

“Pardon me, Lovebirds, but we gotta delivery for floor two!! It’d be wise to hurry it up!” A Goob called.

Nova’s nonexistent stomach dropped. Floor two; Amadeus’ floor. He was the boogeyman of the hotel, everyone would joke. Nova took a deep breath before standing up. “I got it.” Nova said walking over.

“Ya sure…? I don’t want ya getting hurt, Sugar.” The goob worried. Nova smiled, chuckling softly.

“I’ll be fine, Faith, I promise!” Nova smiled softly. “Where’s the delivery?” Faith handed it over. “New notebook? Figures; the dude goes through ‘em like a lightning bolt!” Nova joked, floating over to the elevator.

“Are you sure ya don’t want me to come with ya?” Steward asked shakily. Nova scoffed, shoulders sagging.

“Come ON, Stewy! I can handle it!” Nova sighed.

“I know, but Amadeus is a LOT stronger than he looks! He could SERIOUSLY Hurt you!” Steward warned.

“Stew, I’ll be fine!” Nova assured as the elevator doors opened. She stepped back into it. “I’ll only be gone a few minutes, bud! Then I’ll be back ASAP! Promise!” Nova waved before hitting the button for floor two.

Steward’s hand dropped as the elevator left. He knew she could hold her own in a tussle with the Goobs, but against Amadeus…? He hoped that Nova would be careful in there.

Ding!

“Are they done yet, Gamma?” A little brown haired girl asked. Her grandma chuckled.

“The timer just went off, sweetheart! They’re still going to be hot, you know!” She laughed. The girl whimpered.

“But it’s already been a hour!” She whimpered. Her grandma laughed again.

“If you want one, go ahead, but be careful; they’re still hot!” She smiled softly. The little girl grinned, grabbing one and taking a bite. “Well? How are they?”

“Milk!! Hot!!” The girl wheezed. Her grandma chuckled again.

“You’re so precious, Nova, you know that?” She smiled.

“I’m not prec-pwe-adorable!! I’m fiewce!” Nova retorted.

“Of course, dear!” Her grandma chuckled.

After the cookies cooled, the two enjoyed them with freshly made iced tea.

Ding!

The elevator pulled to a halt and Nova was shaken back to reality.

Nova stepped out of the elevator and heard a piano being played in the distance. She floated around, trying to be as quiet as possible. She eventually reached the door that seemed much larger than last time. Had it been built taller for intimidation? If there were extremely tall ghosts? Or had she gotten smaller? She shook it off. She weighed her options; leave it by the door? Death, he’d complain it was delivered late. Knock? Interruption, death. Waltz in? INTERRUPTION, DEATH. Wait until he was done? Refer to first option. Nova steeled herself and quietly opened the door, slipping in and shutting the door quietly. As the music got louder, Nova’s nonexistent stomach dropped further and further. She kept her breathing stable, but quiet; failure was not an option with this. She eventually reached the main stage and waited.

“What do you need?” Amadeus demanded.

“O-Oh, s-sorry sir, I-I was just delivering y-your new notebooks…!” Nova stuttered, grabbing the box she was meant to deliver.

“Finally. I was thinking I forgot to order them.” He scoffed. Okay gloomer.

“Sorry it took so long, sir.” Nova apologized. What?!? NO!!! Why are you apologizing?!? It wasn’t your fault!!

“Apology accepted.” He shrugged. As Nova was about to turn around and leave, Amadeus asked something. “You were so quiet entering; why?”

Nova froze. “I...I-The piano-it uh...It reminded me of my grandpa…” Nova explained. He scoffed.

“Of course. Nova, you’re sweet and all, but you put the ‘Pathetic’ in ‘Sympathetic’.” Amadeus scoffed.

Quick Nova, think of a quick and witty response, show him what you’re made of!!

“Okay gloomer.”

WHAT.

WAS THAT?!?

“What did you just call me?” He chuffed, raising an eyebrow.

“G-Gloomer…?” Nova stuttered.

As soon as the frown appeared, Nova became like a jet and zoomed right out to the elevator. She spammed the button to open the doors and zoomed in as soon as they opened, slamming her fist down on the lobby button as soon as she could. She caught her breath on the ride down and as soon as the doors opened, she went to find Steward; he could protect her, right? Lanky arms, thin figure-okay, maybe he wasn’t the most OPPORTUNE protector, but any protection is better than none!

“Nova? What’s gotten you so spooked?” Steward asked.

“Mind if I hide behind ya for a bit?” Nova asked, desperation apparent in her voice.

“Okay…?” Steward said, confused.

Nova tensed as she heard the elevator ding. Oh boy.

“Wolfgeist? You never come down here unless-oh no.” Steward sighed.

“I’m just here to talk it out with Nova.” Amadeus growled.

Nova whined, hiding behind Steward more.

“Back off, Wolfgeist. She probably didn’t mean it.” Steward defended.

“H-He said I put the pathetic in sympathetic an-and-and-and-and I just said I enjoyed his music, that’s all…!” Nova stuttered.

“You called me Gloomer!” Amadeus snapped.

“Out of FEAR!!” Nova peeped.

“Leave her alone, Wolfgeist. She. Didn’t. Mean. It.” Steward growled.

Amadeus sighed heavily before going to return to his floor. Nova nearly collapsed, shaking violently.

“It’s okay, he can’t hurt ya anymore.” Steward assured, hugging her tightly. Nova tried hiding a hiccup and Steward hugged tighter.

“H-He-H-H-He reminded me of m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-mom…….!” Nova whimpered. Steward froze in shock.

“Mom?” He asked.

Tag List: @bccfggffbgv, @new-account-sam-christy-456, @anaanswersstuff(Hope Ya Don’t Mind The Tags!) If Ya Wanna Be Added, Feel Free To Ask! Reblogs Are HIGHLY Appreciated, So Please Spare One If Ya Have The Time Or Posts To Spare! I Worked SUPER Hard On This, So I Hope Y’all Enjoy!

#My Art #My Writing #Lm3 Steward #Lm3 Amadeus Wolfgeist #Lm3 Morty #Lm3 Goobs #Lm3 Faith(Maid Goob)#Lm3 Fludd(Bathroom Goob)#Lm3 Hellen Gravely #My Oc #Lm3 Oc #Lm3 Ghostsona #Nova Gala

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orderuponthe99prettygrimmdiaries · 4 years

Text

Break the cycle.

It’s been such a long while since I’ve been doing my writing, and I think that was a huge ass mistake. Been going down the spiral again, or have been for months. Friends have been feeling stressed for me too, and I absolutely fucking hate that I’ve been bringing them distress because I’m such a mess of figuring out my feelings and overthinking every single detail and scenario, etc.

I’ve been thinking for a bit about what made me the way I am... Sometimes it feels like it was how I grew up. I mean, I love my parents, but there’s definitely some toxicity. I always suppressed myself - emotions, even being sick, because somehow the blame goes back to me. And growing up always being compared to that one cousin who does everything better, the critiques about every single little thing. The non-communication. Just arguments and quarrels, and then brush everything under the rug, pretend all is well.

Which is why it scares me at how things are going with me and the guy I’m interested in... We don’t communicate much/well either. We don’t really have too much in common, we don’t really talk about much. Sure, the small talk is kinda sweet at times, the morning texts, someone checking if you’d eaten. Am I expecting too much too fast? Maybe because I feel like I don’t know him well enough that I can’t say that I truly like him. Maybe my confusion for my feelings confused him. My stress stressed him out.

There’s also the disappearing mid convos, the selective replying, not initiating, not really keeping up convos... But for some reason I also can’t just let it go. I see it, but I brush it off. Maybe it was my fault. Maybe he was interested but thought I wasn’t interested. Maybe I messed up, maybe a bit too much that it can’t be fixed.

Or am I just defending him again? Am I being blind-sided because of my feelings, because I’m holding on to the sense of comfort that he gave me when we spoke? Is it because I’m also clinging to the past, the fact that I didn’t try enough back when with the college guy, that he made me so anxious, that this time with this guy I felt comfort with, that I managed to try with, that is still somewhat sorta around? But I also shouldn’t let the past determine my present.

This whole thing has been going on in a cycle for months. Us talking, things going good, he disappears for a bit, I worry and overthink. Sometimes I try again, sometimes I wait for him to return, and then tell myself to just keep it friendly, but then something happens and I fall again right back into this cycle.

I thought I picked myself up enough and learnt to love myself. I really did. I was more open and chill, I didn’t really overthink, I had this period of peace and calm. But somehow my insecurities kick in and I seem to lose myself when I find myself catching feelings. I get afraid of how much I show my love that I pull back, and then I start to worry that they’re gonna leave.

Maybe it’s also the fact that I’m almost 24 and haven’t been in a single relationship. I know, some people would say that’s alright. You don’t need a relationship and all that. But since a long time, I had always known I wanted to get married and have my own family. I wanted to be loved this way.

Or am I holding on too hard/much? Maybe it’s time to just let it go.

It takes greater strength to truly let go. To resist not sending that one extra text. To stop talking about him, to stop thinking about him. I mean, if he cared, he would try too. He would check in. He would be there. But also, the odd thing is that he does check in at times. Does he still want to keep me as a friend but nothing more? Also, why am I clinging to the bare minimum? Maybe he was interested before but moved on. Things change, people change. It does seem like he’s not really interested in really talking or meeting anymore and is just trying to let me down easy. Maybe it’s just time to come to terms that: He’s Just Not That Into You (yep back to this movie again, and a heartbreak playlist too).

But then again, it’s unfair of me to make the decision for him if he’s never even given the option. I can’t be the one who decides that I’m too much for him or too much of a mess, I can’t be the one who decides whether this is too much of an effort, or something we could work with together.

Should I tell him? If i do, it might be awkward and weird, good news is at least I don’t really see him around at work anymore. Things probably won’t be the way it was. It might also turn out good. Or I could lose him as a friend forever.

Also trying to balance wanting to keep him as a friend while moving on. I can’t exactly avoid or ignore him if I hope to stay friends, and it’s not on him since I haven’t told him what I’m feeling.

Or we could just leave it up to fate? If it works out, it works out. If it’s meant to be, well... But this was something I also considered back then, instead of just leaving it to fate, what if I fought harder?

See, this is how much I’ve been overthinking every scenario and possibility. I’m truly thankful for my friends for their support and advice, especially when I’ve caused them distress too. Which I’m truly sorry for too. Not just to them, but to my parents, family, colleagues and more.

I haven’t been myself lately. I’ve noticed that I went from my sunshine personality to stormy again... Being more tired exhausted, the loss of appetite, the mood swings, the sadness, the anger. But then looking at the pics that I’ve taken with friends, that smile. How do I wear my mask so well?

I had really neglected myself this time while I was busy chasing him, along with the whole stress of work and its changes. Learning to go back and noticing my thoughts, separating myself from them, learning to cope with my overthinking and expectations. Going back to breathing exercises to calm my anxiety.

And a close friend just told me that I’ve completely changed. Yes, I’m being more open nowadays, but then I’ve been a mess with all these guys and relationship stuff. I’ve been letting myself be more open and befriending guys, but not with the intention of dating, maybe I should be clearer about that? But i mean.. guys and girls can be friends, can’t we?

But okay, prior to this moment, which I totally agree with her that I’m losing my shit, I was feeling better. I feel like I’ve finally let go some of my expectations (again), and I’m starting to see a glimpse of the old me again. It’s not as painful or upsetting anymore that he isn’t around, I’m just thankful that we’re talking. I’m focusing on other stuff, I’m not dwelling, and I’m able to say or initiate without worrying too much. Maybe that’s just what it has to be.

I was even able to ask my friend/colleague to eat and chill, super impromptu too (learning from these boys now). It was nice and I really wanted his advice about this whole thing, but I didn’t really know how to. He did ask about him, since they got to see each other kinda briefly, but I guess I didn’t know how to bring it up. And he also had to leave to continue work. Maybe tomorrow.

And also finally getting to talk to my counsellor again after all these months, maybe even a year or so. It was nice to finally tell her about it, especially the guy stuff, since she knew how things went with the college guy back then. I never tried, I never told him. At least this time I’m trying, still unsure about the telling. But anyway, she said she’s proud of me, and that really meant a lot.

Also took the step back to 7 Cups, and I found this article about how when we get afraid of hurting others, we in turn cause ourselves anxiety:

Everywhere you go, you walk on eggshells. You censor each thought, editing your words carefully. You overthink your every move, questioning yourself over and over again. Somehow, your interactions with others never go smoothly, and your conversations always seem to take more effort than they should. That’s what it’s like to live in fear of hurting others. It’s hard to be yourself when you’re constantly worried about how other people will perceive what you have to say and do. When your fear of hurting someone else’s feelings is stronger than your desire to bring who you are and what you think to the surface, life becomes a whole lot tougher.

It’s understandable and commendable to care for others to be mindful of how you treat the people you care about. But it becomes an issue when your sensitivity to what others want makes you suppress what you are truly looking for. Do you find it intolerable to hurt someone you love, even if it’s unintentional? Do you experience shame, guilt, or concerns about being a bad person, and as a result, you avoid saying what’s on your mind and push away your feelings? If you answered yes to any of these questions, you’re probably suppressing yourself. This can be bad for your relationships and can create chronic anxiety in your life.

I’ve also went back to look at some of my old posts, hopefully to get the courage, the reminder that next time I found myself catching feelings, I would tell them. Did come across this nugget from my counsellor: there’s only 3 ways - move on, let it be, or do something. With the college guy, I let it be, I moved on, I had faith that if we were meant to be, we’d find our way back. But speaking with her today, she seems to think it’s not necessary to tell this guy since I’m unsure about it, but if I did want a clear answer, I should.

Now to take a long shower and decide what’s the best move. Or just to clear my mind. Would go for another walk but went for 2 already today, which I should really make a daily thing, despite being exhausted from work. It’s therapeutic, just as writing this was. It’s time to push myself to do things again, of course not overly that it strains my mental health, but it’s time to break the cycle.

Thanks for anyone who actually bothered to read any part or the whole of the long ass ramble. Hope everyone is doing alright amongst the whole covid pandemic.

#therapy #post of the day #personal #love #life #friends #family #boys #me #love me #self love #self care #mental health

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shireness-says · 5 years

Text

Echo

Summary: Sharing a heart has unexpected side effects - but maybe they can help say the things that need saying. A 4a heart-sharing AU, expanding upon a drabble by @welllpthisishappening. ~2.6K. Rated G. Also on AO3.

~~~~~

A/N: Ok, so last week Laura wrote this snippet-y bit where Rumple crushed Killian’s heart so Emma gave him half of hers, and as it turns out, I have a LOT of thoughts about that. So, this is me running with it with her blessing.

Super thanks to @snidgetsafan for fitting in beta duties between the end of the school year madness - you’re the best, babe.

Without further ado, enjoy!

~~~~~

She doesn’t notice it right away, far too focused on the fact that Killian is able to hold her in his arms after being just a lifeless shell only moments before to process anything else. When she does notice, however, it’s impossible to ignore.

The thing is, she’s feeling too many things. Not in the usual way either, the way she’s treated her emotions for years where any feeling at all was one too many. No, these are emotions that shouldn’t be there in the first place. The enormous relief is foremost within her, but there’s hints of other things too - love and pride and confusion. Love isn’t that unusual - it’s something she’s been trying to ignore for longer than she’d care to admit - but the pride and confusion are out of place. She’s far too relieved to feel proud of herself right now even if that was in her nature, and she frankly has no reason to be confused. All of that mix of feelings somehow sits different within her too - more the impression of emotion than the actual thing. Like a shadow, maybe, or an echo. It’s almost like…

Oh.

Emma tenses as she realizes, and it sends a shadow-jolt of concern that’s not her own - concern for her - echoing through her veins. She probably should have realized something like this could happen when she gave Killian half of her own heart. Hell, she probably should have asked her parents about the side effects of their own heart-sharing once they’d remembered what her mom had done before the curse. In the moment though, there’d been no time to analyze and weigh all the pros and cons or consider every possible effect; there’d just been Killian, lying lifeless on the floor with his heart lying in ashes at his feet, and the deep conviction that he didn’t deserve that - that they didn’t deserve that, especially not when they’d both been starting to embrace the hope of their new relationship.

(She thinks that might have been part of the shock, too. Emma’s mother and father were always on the same page even before they shared a heart, the truest of True Loves with everything that came along with it. They probably barely even noticed the other’s feelings rattling around in their chests, already so attuned to each other’s every thought. Killian and her, though… well, until recently, Emma hadn’t even thought love was in the cards for her, let alone True Love . It’s only thanks to Killian that she’d started to believe the former; now, it’s only because of the success of their heart split that she’s forced to face the latter. They’d still been trying to learn about each other in the middle of all this insanity with the Snow Queen. (And, apparently, Rumplestilskin too; Emma only hopes Belle can get to the dagger before that demon can.) Their relationship had still been so young, if hopeful. It’s a new kind of pressure, knowing that their affection for one another - oh hell, why is Emma beating around the bush after all this, their love for each other - is pure enough to allow her to give him half her heart. It changes… everything , and as much comfort as Emma pulls from feeling exactly how much he feels for her, it’s a little terrifying to have her future presented so obviously.)

(Oh god, she hadn’t even stopped to think about the fact that this probably goes both ways, that he most likely can feel everything she does as well. Hopefully he’s able to feel everything beyond that burst of panic she couldn’t quite suppress and knows exactly how deeply she feels and how much she cares, even if she’s scared about what feeling this much means.)

(She thinks he might understand, though, the way that loving someone makes you vulnerable, makes you open to the deepest depths of pain alongside all the goodness to be found there too. After all, he’s lived through that hurt himself.)

“Emma?” he asks, reaching for her cheek in what is starting to become a familiar move. Even without the confusion and worry echoing in her chest, she’d be able to see it on his face in the furrowing of his eyebrows, the one she’s come to recognize even without the assistance of some True Love heart-splitting magic. “What’s wrong, love?” He doesn’t seem to have noticed the change himself, the way he has extra feelings not quite his own rattling around in his chest. Maybe it’s an awareness thing - her parents didn’t notice after the were returned to Storybrooke, after all, and they didn’t know either. Maybe the difference between her and Killian right now is that she knows that something should be different, had already halfway been watching for it.

(Maybe, too, their current emotions are so similar, just for different reasons - Emma panicking over everything their shared heart implies, and Killian over her own panicked reaction. What a pair they are, really, a couple of messed up idiots just trying to play it cool.)

“Nothing,” she tries to dismiss. “I’m fine.”

Usually, Killian would let it go, respecting her walls (no longer sky high, dismantling brick by brick with every affectionate touch and easy endearment, but still very much present), but today he pushes. Figures. “No, I don’t think you are,” he responds, stroking his thumb across the apple of her cheek. “Tell me, Emma. Let me help.”

She has three options in the face of his pleading: one, to continue to insist that nothing’s the matter (which she knows won’t work - an open book, he’d called her once, and she knows that still holds true, now more than ever); two, to spill it all, all her fears about embracing what seems to be a forever kind of love on the off chance that he doesn’t feel the same or won’t always feel the same (which is honestly kind of insane to even consider, like this man hasn’t conquered realms and time and given up his home for her, but it’s still a real and terrifying fear; or three, to get mad and focus on the danger he put himself in instead.

Obviously, she chooses the third. It’s easier that way.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again!” Emma hisses, shoving at Killian’s chest. His face quickly shifts from concern, over to shock, before settling into something that looks an awful lot like guilt. God, she dreads finding out how he got into this whole mess if it warrants that kind of look. “I’ve already had to deal with this with Henry, and with Graham… I told you I couldn’t lose you too!”

“I know, love.” She can feel traces of his shame trickling through her veins as Killian hangs his head. Maybe she feels a little bad about this dressing down, but now that Emma’s started this, she has some questions that need answering.

“How long?” she demands.

“How long… what?”

“How long was it missing? How long was Gold in charge? Were you the one that took me on that date, or was he already pulling the strings? What was it, your hand for your heart?”

“No, no, that was just us, I promise, love. He didn’t have anything to do with that night.” Killian rushes to get all that out, but she can still see in his eyes that it’s not the whole story. Her lie detector doesn’t pick up anything - there’s no lie in his words to find, she trusts him on that, but she still knows Killian, and knows when there are things he doesn’t want to say for fear of scaring her or hurting her. ‘Open book’ goes both ways, or something like that. It doesn’t hurt that she can feel the way his (her?) heart rate picks up and the new rush of shame that comes with it, either.

“But it did have something to do with your hand,” she guesses.

Killian nods in resignation. “Aye. Maybe not directly, but that’s where it started. I know I said it was a gift, that there was no deal, but that wasn’t exactly true.”

“Killian…” she groans at the revelation, but he just keeps going right past her.

“The deal was that I wouldn’t tell Belle that the dagger he’d given her was a fake, and he’d give me my hand in return. I shouldn’t have done it, especially since I wasn’t positive that hers was a fake, but it seemed risk free. My hand was just sitting there; I knew he could reattach it, and I knew he wouldn’t do it without proper motivation. But then the events of the rest of that night… I was the one who beat the thief, Scarlet. I was so angry about our interrupted date, and I just… gave into that. Afterwards, I became convinced it was the hand that was the problem - that it was trying to turn me into the man I used to be.” Emma scoffs at that, drawing a rueful grin from Killian. “Ridiculous, I know. But I was desperate. By that point the Crocodile had switched the fake dagger for the real one, so when I went back to coerce him into removing it, I didn’t have that leverage any more. But I couldn’t risk hurting you , or Henry, so when he said that he’d remove the hand again in return for a small favor, I took it.” He sighs heavily. “Little did I know that favor would be absorbing the Apprentice into that blasted hat.”

“Killian,” Emma tries again, softer this time. She understands he feels the need to confess, but it just seems to be hurting him more than anything. She knows Killian, and she knows Gold; for once in her life, Emma is confident that this whole idiocy with his hand only started with the best of intentions.

Still, he won’t let her say anything. “After that, it was just a spiral I couldn’t get out of. Gold kept holding it over my head. I knew if you found out, you’d hate me for lying to you, and it would all be over between us. I finally worked up the courage when your magic went haywire and you were about to let the Crocodile suck you into the hat, but he got there first and deleted the speaking message I left you on your talking phone explaining everything. Thank the gods Elsa was able to talk you out of it. In the meantime, however…”

“He took your heart,” Emma finishes.

“Aye.” Even without the dejected look gracing his face, Emma can feel the fear and sadness coming from him.

“None of this is your fault,” she assures him - maybe prematurely, since he hasn’t said anything, but she knows he’s thinking it all the same. It’s the little things like this that makes the success of their heart split make sense - the way they know each other better than anyone else, with or without declarations. It makes the panic recede just a little bit, even if she is still worried about how he’ll react when he finds out. “But I don’t get it - why ? Why would you make a deal with Gold, and for your hand of all things?” It just doesn’t make sense to her. He’s lived 300 years without the limb and been happy to avoid Gold since their Neverland detente; it doesn’t make sense that he’d do anything to change that.

Killian mutters something, too low for Emma to understand - a real first from her walking dictionary. “What was that?”

He sighs. “I just wanted to be a better man for you, love,” he replies quietly, still avoiding her eyes. “You deserve a lot more than some old run-down pirate. I can’t even hold you with both hands. Even when I was asking I knew that having my hand back wouldn’t make me the man you deserve, but it was a start.”

Emma stares at him with horror creeping up within her - her own horror. “Did I make you feel like that?” The words are barely a whisper when she manages to force them out. “Did I do that?”

Another rush of horror rushes through her, this time from Killian as his eyes pull wide and panicked to match. “Oh no, love, of course not, I just worry —”

“Because let me clarify now,” she interrupts. “I don’t care. I can’t tell you how little I care about the fact you’ve only got one hand. That’s so - that’s so stupid ! You are a good man , and I’ve never wanted you to be anything but exactly who you are.” It’s true; even in the beginning, when Emma didn’t quite know what to think of the flirtatious pirate, she’d been intrigued, one hand and shady past and all.

“I know that you think that now, love, but what if —” Killian tries to protest, but Emma isn’t having it.

“No! That’s not going to change!” Abruptly, she shoves at his chest. “Do you feel that?”

Killian pulls his brows together in confusion. “Do I feel you shoving at my chest?”

“Don’t get smart with me,” Emma warns. Not that she thinks that’s what he was trying to do in the first place, but she’s a little too on edge about everything to care. Score one for communication or something. “You’re feeling some frustration, right? But don’t know why? And it doesn’t really feel like a real feeling, more like a muted version.”

“Aye, but how do you know that?”

“Because you know how you’re still here, even after Gold crushed your heart? I split mine and gave you half. I’ve been feeling your emotions ever since you woke up, and it sounds like that works both ways.”

“Oh, Emma, you shouldn’t have done that,” he tries to protest. Emma hopes he can feel just how deep that stabs her soul.

“How can you say that?” she cries. “You were dead ! He killed you! I took a chance, and maybe it was dangerous, but I wasn’t willing for it to end like this. And it worked! You know what that means?” Killian shakes his head. “That we’re True Love . So don’t try to tell me that it wasn’t worth it, not when I almost lost that - lost you .”

They sit in silence for a few moments as Emma lets him process. It’s an awful lot to take in, she knows, but she can feel every bit of the awe that’s spreading through his body echoing in her own.

“You love me,” he finally says. It’s not a question; Emma assumes he can feel that glowing within her just as easily as she can feel his own love for her, a diffuse warmth that feels somewhere between a cozy blanket wrapped around her and the sun shining down on her skin.

“I do.”

Killian practically beams at the words, reaching to pull Emma close against his body. “I love you too,” he returns, almost giddy to finally say it.

“I know,” she laughs. “I can feel it.”

There’s nothing else to really say after that, but that’s alright - there’s other ways to say everything without words. The kiss they share is gentle, but thorough, passionate in its own way - lips just brushing over each other before the kiss deepens, allowing tongues to tangle as hands wander and bodies melt further into one another. When they finally separate, Emma finds her hands resting on Killian’s chest, right above where his half of their heart beats strongly beneath his ribs.

“Promise me you won’t ever do anything like that again,” she repeats, “because I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I promise, love,” he swears. “I’ve got your heart to protect, after all.”

She doesn’t even need the shared organ to know that he means every word.

#captain swan #cs ff #my writing #Echo #4a divergent #heart sharing #they totally should have done more with the heart sharing thing in canon

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pretty-well-funded · 5 years

Note

For the prompt thing if this is alright: Dub con with innocent and naive Peter where Tony tricks him into having sex with him all the time because Peter doesn’t know any better then Peter only finds out what they’re really doing when he has sex ed or something at school but then he still returns to Tony because he’s grown to like doing it Tony would just be surprised because Peter would start telling him things like wanting to get filled up so much that he has babies

this went in a slightly different direction than you might have intended, because I have a really hard time imagining Peter being so naive post-puberty (being both gen Z and a super smart kid). and then I didn’t have the patience to build up all of the brainwashing, so I took a third-party shortcut. Hopefully it still has the spirit of what you wanted though, lol

Tony isn’t the foster dad type.

Ok, well, massive understatement, and widely accepted knowledge considering the reception the press release had gotten, but. Peter’s different. And the circumstances are unique ones.

Iron Man wasn’t in the cult-busting business, but when you land in upstate New York to destroy an arms-smuggling operation and discover roughly 100 brainwashed civilians... Well. You can’t call yourself a superhero and leave them there. Not the way they’d been living.

That wouldn’t have resulted in Tony as a legal guardian, not by itself. But there was something about a small, brown-eyed boy with deft hands and a quick mind, forced to use those assets to invent next-gen weaponry...

It struck a little too close to home.

Peter is special. He’s a sweet kid, so eager for approval and praise, with a brilliant untrained mind. The things he’s invented without a day of formal education...well, even Tony’s impressed. But Peter’s also a little sheltered, a little warped by his special upbringing, and even if he’d had family fit to be guardians, Tony’s not sure that would have been safe.

What Peter knows, what Peter can do...it’s too dangerous to just let him go. He’s barely fifteen and already on SHIELD’s threat list. Either Tony took Peter or SHIELD would, and Tony doesn’t trust SHIELD as far as he can throw them, even now that they’re more like a bush baby than an 800-pound gorilla.

So. Tony has a foster kid.

They’ve settled into somewhat of a routine. Tony’s days are no longer his own, because Peter’s pretty clingy. And as JARVIS constantly reminds him, children need structure, especially after their whole world implodes in a crash of red and gold metal.

He can still get work done, thank God, since Peter loves the lab. But they’re on a pretty strict meal plan to help Peter gain weight, and there’s tutoring to be done (thank you, JARVIS), and Tony is supposed to be modeling this whole “balanced life” thing, so the days of 20 hours straight inventing have gone the way of Tony’s sex life.

Their “free time” should probably consist of more than whatever movie is next on Peter’s pop culture education, but it’s not like Tony has a lot of kid-friendly activities in his repertoire, and Peter’s not so good at being in public yet, anyway.

They’ve got a rhythm, now, and Tony’s almost adjusted to all Peter’s odd quirks. He thinks they’ve hit all the biggest landmines: the weird diet issues, the endless parade of outrageous beliefs, the guilt over not being allowed to complete his mission....the snuggling.

Tony’s still a little embarrassed about the snuggling. At least he convinced Peter to save it for movie time, on the couch, and not to crawl into the master bed anymore, but still, it’s...awkward. The way Peter crawls into his lap like he’s five and not almost grown, clings to Tony like a baby monkey and fidgets in ways that are decidedly...

Well. Tony really needs to get laid, because his body misinterprets where all that lap-squirming is headed.

Still, it’s...innocent. And Peter needs it, touch-starved and lonely now that Tony’s the only one he has. Tony even thinks it’s kind of cool, when he has some distance from it. He’s not sure he was EVER allowed to be affectionate with Howard. For a weapons-hoarding doomsday cult, they didn’t seem to have the kind of toxic masculinity you’d expect.

Tony’s gotten used to the cuddling, and he really thinks they’ve hit all the biggest landmines, until the evening Peter grabs his hand and presses it against his very hard cock.

Tony tries to breathe, somewhat outside his body as his hand is casually used to stimulate a teenager’s cock without his permission. Peter’s eyes are on the movie (which is decidedly not playing a sex scene), but his hips are rocking up into the touch and his ass (which is not a lush, tasty handful, Tony hasn’t noticed) rubs coincidentally against Tony’s not-at-all interested dick.

Peter’s chewing on his bottom lip, eyes half-lidded, color high on his cheeks, and his breath has started to go ragged. It’s not until he starts to grunt a little that Tony suddenly snaps partway out of it.

It’s a struggle to keep his voice calm, because he knows - he just knows - this is one of those things Pete doesn’t realize is wrong. “Pete...what are we doing right now, kid?”

Big brown eyes turn away from The Empire Strikes Back and toward Tony. Then he answers, “Making it go away,” in a matter-of-fact way that says this answer is obvious and just a thing that one naturally does.

Tony’s not sure what his face does in response, but Peter’s no dummy. His entire body goes still (thank God), and he studies Tony’s face with a puzzled little frown.

Then the frown slowly drops into a devastated look. “I’m doing something wrong?”

Tony swallows hard at the sight of those eyes gone glassy with tears. It’s always painful to pull this rug out from under Peter a little bit at a time. “It’s...well, it’s. Not wrong, it’s normal to... Jesus, kid, I need to know what you think we’re doing, here.”

Peter’s hand releases Tony’s, but before Tony can sigh in relief, the kid is halfway off his lap, on the verge of fleeing in shame. Tony pulls him back down, shushing, well aware of what his next few days look like if he lets Peter go.

“Hey, you’re ok. It’s okay, we’ll deal with whatever it is, I just need more information. Help me run a diagnostic here, would you?”

“I thought it was normal.”

Peter’s used to knowing, understanding, and every time they have to rewrite the rules of the world as he knows them, it’s... Hard. And he beats himself up. “I know, Pete. It’s gonna be okay. Just tell me what you know. We’ll figure it out just like we always do.”

“It’s just... Someone’s always helped it go away.” Peter’s red-faced and avoiding Tony’s gaze now. Tony’s not even sure he understands it’s about sex - that’s an area where Peter is painfully naive. He’s probably just this mortified over realizing he’s somehow wrong.

“Helped what go away?” Tony asks, deliberately putting aside ‘someone always helped,’ because you can’t blow up cult leaders twice.

“The...swelling,” Peter mutters, like he’s lacking vocabulary for this thing someone ‘always helps with.’

“Your erection,” Tony tries to clarify, and Peter shrugs like he always does when Tony’s words are different than the ones that he knows. “Did they tell you what causes an erection, Pete?”

Peter finally looks up and makes eye contact, looking even more confused at the question. “It just...happens, right? Like a sneeze. I mean, it only started the last few years, but...” Peter’s eyes are keen on Tony’s face. “Why, what is it?”

“It’s...” Jesus, Tony is tired. The thought of trying to answer that question without sending Peter spiraling makes Tony want to lie down for a year. And, well, at fifteen, erections DO just happen. “You’re right, it’s a normal bodily function, it’s just one we take care of by ourselves, usually.”

“By myself?” Peter looks somewhat crestfallen, and Tony’s afraid he can see where this is going, but he has to try.

“Yeah, it’s private, like being naked is a private.” Because that’s one they’ve conquered already, thank Christ. “Why don’t you duck into the bathroom and help it go away by yourself.”

“Okay. I’m sorry, Mr. Stark.”

“It’s okay, Peter. I’m not angry.”

The kid gets off his lap and slinks off to the bathroom and Tony lets his head fall back with a sigh. Jesus fucking Christ.

Twenty minutes later, Pete’s not back, and Tony just keeps telling himself ‘one more minute, one more minute before I check.’ When he can’t avoid it anymore, he pads quietly to the guest bathroom’s door and listens for a second, heart sinking when he hears Peter quietly crying.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. He was afraid of this.

Tony takes a deep breath and knocks. “Bud? Everything okay?”

There’s a frantic shuffle for five seconds, then the door opens, revealing Peter’s splotchy face. “No. I can’t...I’m not...I can just let it go away by itself. It will, eventually.”

Tony’s eyes fall to the tent pole in Peter’s pants and winces. “Is that what you’ve been doing since you got here? Letting it go away by itself?”

Peter shrugs, which is a yes.

“I’m guessing it’s pretty painful right now, though, yeah?”

Tony watches Peter clamp down on fresh tears. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Tony sighs, and puts an arm around Pete’s shoulders. “Let’s go sit down and I’ll help.”

It takes some coaxing for Peter to relax in his lap, this time, and it’s a weird, fucked up funhouse mirror of responsible behavior to be soothing a teenage boy to just relax so Tony can rub him off.

“That’s it,” Tony murmurs when Peter starts to thrust against his hand. “That’s a good boy, just let me help.”

“I’m sorry,” Pete says miserably. Tony presses a kiss to his forehead.

“Don’t be sorry, nothing’s your fault. You’re a very good boy, and you’re doing the best that you can.” Peter’s chest gives a hitch, and of course, Tony thinks. Of course he has a fucking praise kink. “You make me so happy, Peter. I couldn’t ask for a sweeter, more brilliant boy in my life. You deserve to feel good, so just relax and let me help. I’m happy to help. There you go, you’re almost done, and you’re so very pretty like this - “

Peter’s fingers have been twisting in Tony’s shirt, kneading like a kitten as he pants, then suddenly they clench as he presses up against Tony’s hand and shudders hard. His jeans are too thick for Tony to even feel warmth, but the way the kid collapses in a euphoric puddle says all that he needs to know.

Tony reaches up and combs Peter’s hair back from his face, smiling when Peter nuzzles into his hand.

“Pete, why haven’t you asked me to ‘help’ before?”

Peter’s eyes blink sleepily open. “Well, I didn’t know you very well. You can’t just ask anyone, right?”

“Right,” Tony says, feeling dazed. “That makes sense.”

Well, it doesn’t. Not when the kid doesn’t know that it’s sex. Except it does; if he thinks it’s like a sneeze...you don’t ask strangers to help blow your nose. So, there’s that.

Jesus.

Pete’s rapidly falling asleep in Tony’s arms, so he doesn’t have time to figure out how to break the news that this is not a sneeze. Peter’s way too big to pick up when he’s dead weight, and hell to wake up once he’s passed out.

“Time for bed, kiddo. Go brush your teeth.”

There’s an adorable grumpy grumble, then the kid’s hauling himself off of Tony’s lap, and disappearing down the hall without so much as a thank you. Which is good, because Tony shouldn’t be thanked for what he did. Christ.

It’s okay. It was just once, and it’s not like the first time Tony’s done weird things for Peter. He’s not a creep, he doesn’t plan to do it again. Tomorrow, he’ll sit Peter down, and... Look, it won’t be a pleasant adjustment, but eventually Peter will have to learn to take care of himself.

Just like Tony. A cold shower ought to do the trick.

#my shit #Anonymous

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cupidmarwani-archive · 5 years

Text

Baby’s First Blowjob

Summary: Ethan finally finds his way. (Baby’s First: Part Three)

WC: ~2.5k

Somehow, being honest made things worse. It's been a week since Ethan admitted they were moving too fast, and although their work relationship is back to normal, the way he feels is so different. There's this persistent pain in his chest, a longing ache that grows stronger every time he hears Crockett laugh or their hands brush working over the same patient. A fuse has been lit, hot and bright, and no amount of being unprepared can put it out.

He spends every single night watching the flowers on the counter slowly die. Petals dropping, one at a time, like the clock running out on whatever caused their one-time kiss and Ethan’s subsequent spiral into confusion. He operates on facts, on labels. Not knowing whether or not he’s actually straight, trying to figure out what he feels about Crockett. The last time he spiraled like this, he took a six month sabbatical to California and learned how to surf. It wasn’t bad, but it definitely didn’t solve any problems, and he doesn’t want to run away this time.

Every moment in the hospital that he sees Crockett feels like guilt. Shame. He’s into women, yes, but could he love a man? Is that the person he is? It hasn’t been for the majority of his life, and there’s no way that this came out of nowhere. If he’s bi, there has to be some sign of it from before now. Staring down at every report, every patient file, he tries to find some memory of having felt this way about a man before. Some dismissed schoolboy crush, a roommate who had a smile as alluring as Crockett’s. But he comes up empty, adding to how hard it is to figure out if this is real or not.

He winds up sitting with Natalie again, this time without food, both of them half-concentrating on the discharge papers they’re writing up.

“Does it feel different?” he asks. “Does loving April feel different from loving a man?”

She shakes her head at him. “For me, love feels different every time. I can’t compare the way I love her to the way I’ve loved anyone before her.”

“Me too.”

Because it’s true, that he’s never felt love the same way twice. He just wishes there was a way to find the truth in all this without losing himself in the process. Calling himself straight, it doesn’t feel right anymore. But he’s not ready to call himself bisexual. That’s a word he can’t put to himself yet. Of course, that feeds more into his guilt because on a practical level, he knows it’s not a bad thing. People are bisexual. It doesn’t mean he’s not the same person he was before Crockett kissed him. But it feels like it is when it’s about him

Natalie tells him to take his time figuring out who he is, and he knows it’s time he absolutely has. But it feels like he doesn’t have any. Every petal that drops, every smile Crockett gives someone else, is a nudge closer to needing to make a decision.

If he makes the “wrong” decision, if he labels himself incorrectly, what’s the worst that happens? He changes it later? If he can go this far in life as straight and then decide he’s bisexual, who’s to say he can’t later come to the conclusion that he is straight, after all? It’s okay to be wrong, he knows that logically. But Ethan doesn’t like to be wrong.

This is complicated, and it gets worse.

It gets worse because, nine days after going on a date with Crockett (not that Ethan is counting), he watches Crockett leaning against a wall and talking to Noah Sexton. He’s smiling, head tilted to the side. They’re so close together it hurts. And Crockett leans closer to whisper something that makes Noah laugh. They seem happy, and that’s what Crockett really deserves- someone to make him happy, not someone who needs to be guided through every little thing.

Nine days after Ethan said he needed more time, Crockett has moved on. It shouldn’t hurt like this, but it does, and he doesn’t understand why he wants to cry as he watches them chat idly. Crockett’s voice usually carries, fills a room. But it’s quiet now, intimate. Ethan missed his chance, if he even wanted one to begin with, which is something he still hasn’t figured out.

The only thing he knows for certain is that he’s upset when he asks to speak to Crockett alone, and then that this is a bad idea once they’re locked in a supply closet, chest to chest. Crockett’s grinning at him, eyes shining. Without hesitation, he has his hands cupping Ethan’s jaw all over again.

“Need something, sweetheart?”

Ethan swallows hard and covers one of Crockett’s hands with his own. He’s warm. Every part of him, warm and open and unabashed and everything that Ethan wishes he could be, but just isn’t. He isn’t ready.

“I don’t know,” he admits.

He’s been saying that so much lately. His whole world has turned upside down and it’s like he’s forgotten everything he’s ever known about himself. Nothing is the same. The only thing keeping him grounded is Crockett’s easy touch, and he focuses in tightly on that in an effort to keep himself calm. Keep himself sane.

“I need to go slowly,” he gets out, looking anywhere but Crockett’s face. “I want- I need to go slowly, but I want to try.”

“As slow as you need,” Crockett swears, coming just a little closer. Close enough that their bodies are pressed together, that Ethan can feel the steady beat of his heart.

He nods. They can go slow. He can figure this out. He’s okay, and he’s not alone, and Crockett’s lips are soft when he kisses him like its the first time again. They’re going to be okay. He stands here and melts into the kiss until it’s time to go back to work, and Crockett asks in a tentative voice if he can make him dinner tonight.

“I’ve always liked cooking for the people I lo- the people I care about.”

“I’d love that.”

And he means it. In his own home, he’ll feel a little more at ease, and there’s a certain intimacy in cooking for someone that Ethan has always attributed to a love language of its own.

“I’ll get the groceries, you just pick out drinks.”

Crockett kisses him one more time, and they separate for the day. A day spent thinking about dinner, about Crockett, about kissing him and holding him and being as close to him as physically possible so that he doesn’t ever feel empty again.

He chooses beer instead of wine. Crockett likes beer, he knows, and Ethan likes it much better than wine anyways. Instead of being normal, Ethan leaves work early to make sure his apartment is as clean as possible. He keeps it immaculate anyways, for his own sanity, but he worries it won’t be good enough. He won’t be good enough, and Crockett will move on, leaving him with a crisis and a ton of pain.

Three hours after Ethan gets home, Crockett knocks on the door. Every floor has been swept, every counter wiped down. The dying roses are still keeping a valiant effort on the dining room table, within view and a clinging hope Ethan can’t throw away yet. Crockett looks nice, cleaned up, but not as formal as last time in dark pants and a plain shirt. He looks casual. But beautiful. His smile lights up the entire apartment as he sets grocery bags on the table and rolls his wrists against the strain carrying them had brought.

“Thought I’d make you something good from home,” Crockett says, pulling ingredients out. “Ever had a Crawfish Monica?”

“I don’t know what that is,” Ethan answers.

Crockett pulls out a cylinder of butcher paper, wrinkled with something inside it. If Ethan had to guess, it’s shrimp stacked on top of each other. Onions and garlic, seasoning and butter, a cheap bottle of wine, take over his counter and Crockett easily finds cutting boards, knives, pans. He works with the same efficiency he performs surgeries when he starts chopping onions fine.

“It’s a pasta thing. There’re no good crawfish in Chicago, so I’m using shrimp. It won’t be as good, but it’ll still be-” he pauses to imitate a dramatic chef’s kiss, “-fantastic.”

“How can I help?”

He scoffs and waves Ethan off with a dismissive hand. “You just sit there and look pretty, let me do this for you.”

The compliment sends a flush down Ethan’s cheeks, which he ignores as he watches Crockett cook. It’s a dance, practiced and perfected, in the way he cooks the pasta, sautés onions, throws in the deveined shrimp. Precise. Again, surgical, and beautiful. Ethan’s never seen something that’s made him feel so cared for. Crockett is putting in this time, precision, and care for something intended to show love for Ethan. He might start crying.

“I’ll get beers for us,” he says instead, and Crockett hums an affirmative as he shakes the saucepan.

They eat. It tastes good. Ethan is quiet and appreciative, sneaking glances at Crockett even though he’s allowed to look. Crockett drinks beer, tells stories of eating this back home. And, more than once, he leans over the table to kiss Ethan’s cheek or tell him something sweet in a conspiring voice. This is what it feels like to be wooed, he’s fairly certain, and it’s working.

“I’ll take care of the dishes,” he says decisively when it’s over. He puts their bowls in the sink, starts the pots soaking to clean once Crockett is gone. He doesn’t want him to leave yet. There’s nothing to cling to, though, and he’s running out of time to ask Crockett to stay for even a moment longer. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Thank you for having me.”

He takes a deep breath, ready for a goodbye, and finds himself pulled in close against Crockett’s warm chest. No space between them. Nothing but the way it feels to be held, and then the softest of kisses. Crockett’s kisses always leave him feeling warm all over. He sighs when it stops, gets a firm grip on Crockett’s shirt to hold him there for just one minute more. One more kiss.

But then Crockett is gone.

The loneliness burns now, but Ethan is content in the knowledge that this isn’t an ending. There will be more dinners, more kisses, and they’ll take things slowly but still have something between them. Now, there’s no turning back.

Ethan takes a deep breath before going to the dishes. It’s okay. He’s made a decision, and everything is going to be okay.

And for the next eight months, it is. They have dinner together once a week- twice, if they’re lucky- and Ethan grows accustomed to frequent kisses of all different sorts. Quick pecks when they pass by, lingering lips when they have time to just kiss in peace. Affectionate drops to his temple. A few times, he’s experienced Crockett’s warm mouth on his neck, gentle still and easy to drown in. He knows the kisses well, as he knows every touch Crockett craves and reaches for desperately. Ethan knows when Crockett needs to hold hands, when he needs a hug, when he just wants some form of contact between them. It’s a language just the two of them speak, and throughout that time, Ethan’s doubts slowly fade away. He’s with Crockett because he wants to be. And it’s okay that he wants this, there’s nothing wrong with loving Crockett.

Fuck, Ethan loves him.

Sitting on the couch with takeout, watching some shitty movie together, Ethan realizes he loves Crockett so much that it almost hurts. He loves him. He loves him, and the doubts suddenly seem so far away in the face of realizing something as important as this.

“I love you,” he says.

Crockett doesn’t even say it back. In the blink of an eye, their food is on the coffee table and Crockett is on him, kissing him hard and holding him close. This is different than their other kisses. It’s hurried, heated. It’s something Ethan’s never felt from him, but now doesn’t know how to live without.

He wraps his arms around Crockett’s waist to hold him close, keep him from pulling back and ending this. This is going to lead somewhere new. But it’s okay, he’s okay, and Crockett is kissing him and he allows himself to go beyond touching Crockett’s narrow waist. To more of him. A palm on his ass, one on the small of his back. Knowing what it looks like and feeling it are two extremely different things, and he’s glad for learning the way Crockett’s body feels under his touch.

And Crockett reacts to his touch, too. Sighs into the kiss, presses himself in closer against Ethan’s chest. He’s warm. He’s heavy. He’s beautiful. He’s perfect. And this is going somewhere. Crockett pulls away and Ethan almost complains, but he loses himself in the way Crockett looks. Cheeks flushed. Lips a little swollen. Eyes wide.

“Before we go further,” Crockett says, out of breath, “I wanna make sure you’re ready for this.”

It’s so sweet, so him, and Ethan might cry. Instead, he kisses Crockett again and stands up, slipping his arms beneath Crockett’s thighs to carry him toward the bedroom. He knows they won’t be able to go “all the way” tonight. He’s actually been looking into this, more than he wants to admit, and he didn’t plan for them to do this tonight. Fuck, should he really be thinking about that right now?

He doesn’t have time to think about anything else, because when they reach the bed, Crockett pulls him down and he loses himself in kissing again. He’s drowning, and it’s like breathing for the first time. Ethan fucking loves him. He loves him. He loves him, and Crockett is pulling at his shirt to speed this along. Yes.

Now that he’s shirtless, he focuses on getting Crockett undressed, on seeing all of him. Knowing all of him. Being able to show him how much he means, and make Crockett feel for an instant the way Ethan has started feeling every damn day. And with more skin available, tan and warm, there’s more of him to kiss.

His body is different than Ethan’s used to trailing his lips over, but it’s Crockett, and Ethan knows him. He knows the way the planes of his chest feel, and it’s not much different when he covers him in kisses and Crockett’s hand is a barely there pressure against his scalp.

“I love you too,” Crockett whispers.

It’s too much and Ethan squeezes his eyes shut to try and ground himself. There’s no escaping this, and he doesn’t want to. He’s happy.

“So,” Crockett says, the cocky edge returning to his voice as he shifts on the mattress. “Baby’s first blowjob?”

Ethan just laughs and kisses Crockett’s hip.

#charcel #ethan choi #crockett marcel #chicago med #fic #mine #babysfirstfic #This is the final part!

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bangchanshehe · 6 years

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Handsome Disaster pt. 15

When the school bad boy and womanizer Hoseok turns his attention on you it’s hard to ignore. Especially with your best friends being in a relationship and living five doors down from each other.

word count: 3.5k

It had been a solid week of hell since you had broken up with Hoseok and life felt like it couldn’t get much worse. The school had granted you medical absences since the incident to stay at home and rest and you were thankful for their understanding and help, but only for all of the wrong reasons. This whole week you managed to dodge Hosoek at every opportunity that he tried to make his presence known. And god damn it, it was fucking hard.

He tried beating down your door, calling you and texting you all the time and even harassing SeRa to get into contact with you on his behalf. You knew that it was hurting him to separate from you and it was killing him inside, but it was even harder for you. Serval times you wanted to knock on his door or even open up the windows to see him outside but the constant news coverage of the innocent murdered family kept you at home. Trapped inside with your shame, guilt and pain.

Life couldn’t just go back to normal after such a huge change and emotionally draining trauma. Hell, just wiping your ass was hard enough with healing ribs. you couldn’t even imagine actually living life the same anymore. And although you were a little sickened by the thought of it but the who incident taught you to be thankful for what you had and you learned that you couldn’t trust anyone.

At the end of the day it was only you who suffered in your pain. So it was justified that you were alone to deal with it.

The knocking at the door pulled you out of your trance and you looked to see SeRa standing in your door frame with the door just cracked open enough for her to see you. she smiled sympathetically to you when she realized the she had gotten your attention

“hey” she whispered “what are you doing?”

You cracked a small smile at her and shook your head

She pushed her way into your room from the small crack and made her way next to your bed and sat down next to you so she could talk with you. “Are you nervous about going back tomorrow?” she asked gauging your reaction.

You sighed and closed your eyes for a moment. Shit. You thought to yourself. You had almost completely forgotten that you had to go back to school. You didn’t know how to answer her question because you didn’t know how you felt about it. Were you ready? Could you handle the stares? Or possibly running into someone that you didn’t want to see?

You rolled your head to the side and looked at her with pursed lips. “I guess so. I just know that things are going to be awkward and weird for a while” you answered softly.

She just hummed in agreement ad dropped her gaze apologetically. She knew more than anyone else In this world that you would take the next few days in stride but knew that they would deeply terrify and hurt you.

“and what about Hoseok?” she asked softly still refusing to see you eye to eye.

You sighed again and she raised her head to gauge your reaction. You shook your head softly and remained silent. You hadn’t told her yet that you had dropped the class that you had with him, because she was too soft hearted and would tell Hosoek. And you loved her for her honesty but right now honesty wasn’t what was for the best.

“look… I know that you don’t really want to entice Hoseok right now or get his hopes up for anything.” She started and when you met her gaze her confidence fell a little. You could see it in her eyes “and I know that you probably don’t want to hear this right now, but he’s been acting really out of character and rough ever since he last saw you at the hospital.” She let her gaze wonder over to your phone “maybe you should consider talking to him just for a little to calm him down some.” She offered

You took a moment to let her words sink in and your heart fell a little hearing that Hoseok was going through a rough time, but it wasn’t a good time for you to contact him.

“maybe later” you said quietly, and politely turning down her offer

She nodded her head In understanding “im gonna go take a shower and go to bed, goodnight.” She said slowly getting up and walking away

You didn’t say anything back to her and instead let your minds wonder over Hoseok. What did she mean by he was acting out of character or rough? Hoseok was already pretty rough in other people’s eyes. So what constituted as rough?

You laid down on your bed as you were fully clothed and shut your eyes willing for your thoughts to silence and melt away, hoping that sleep would make things a little more bearable for the time being.

The next morning you rolled out of bed at the sound of your alarm going off and slowly sauntered to your bathroom. You washed your face and brushed your teeth but did nothing else. You didn’t care how you looked or how other people saw you. they were already going to be talking about what happened and staring at you so why give a single damn about how they saw you? you made a cup of coffee and slid on flip flops before making your way across campus to your first class.

It was distracting seeing how many people were looking at you. Or were they? You couldn’t really tell and that’s what drove you even more insane. You didn’t know if people’s stares were genuine or if you saw them looking by chance. But the small voice in the back of your head was sure that they were all judging you. so you quickly walked with your head hung low from class to class hoping that the fascination and paranoia would die down.

But sadly all you could do was scan the crowds for Shownu and Hoseok hoping that you wouldn’t by chance see or run into either of them. It was stupid to have the paranoia that you would run into Shownu but you still had the creeping feeling that he was somewhere watching you as you moved around.

Should you try to transfer schools? Or maybe move to another apartment once the lease is up?

You were happy and enjoyed going to school and being where you were, but with the overwhelming anxiety that someone was constantly looking at you over your shoulder you couldn’t get comfortable like you were once before. And things could never go back to how they once were.

You got to your final class and you picked a desk in the back of the lecture hall. Half of the year was already over and being a transfer student into a new lecture made seating slim pickings. You unpacked your spiral and made yourself comfortable in your desk and tried to keep yourself from making too much noise or sticking out. The professor entered with a steaming cup of tea and a content look on his face while he mindlessly greeted the class and began to start the lecture.

You took notes and tried your hardest to focus on what was being said but even as you wrote down note for note on the board and stared at the pictures in the text book your mind was still wondering to everything but the lecture. You let out a soft sigh and put your head down over your arms at your desk. There was no use of trying to learn anything right now. You were about to doze off into sleep when the sounds of the lecture doors being loudly pulled on made you peek up from your arms in shock and anxiety. Whoever was pulling on the doors continued to pull as hard as they could as if they were trying to get in to save their life.

The professor paused the lecture, looked at the students in shock and worry and then slowly walked to the doors to open one for the person standing outside. The door flew open and Hoseok pushed his way inside past the professor making everyone gasp in surprise. You were angry and startled to see him there in front of you so livid and anxious that he would push the professor out of his way like that.

How did he even find you? You didn’t tell sera which class you had transferred to so she couldn’t tell him, which means he had to have followed you here.

Your face hardened as you looked at him as he scanned the crowed to find you. As soon as he did find you his face softened a little but his eyes seemed sadder than they were before. He ran up the stairs taking two at a time so he could get to you quicker, and you began to pack your bag in a hurry so you could take the back exit and avoid Hoseok. But he was quicker.

He slammed his hand down on top of your back pack as you were about to rise out of your chair and you yelped in surprise. You turned your head to see him and slowly sat back down keeping your eyes on him the whole time.

“Excuse me sir! This a lecture hall and most certainly not the place for you to be doing this! Get out of my class room!” the professor yelled through clenched teeth

But Hoseok paid him no mind and stood over you while his eyes scanned your body. You felt exhausted and tore your eyes away from him and looked away trying not to make a scene in front of everyone who you just met today.

“Hoseok…. Can you please not do this?” You begged him with a tiny whisper hoping that only he heard it

“All you had to do was send one message, make one call, or step outside to tell me to fuck off so I could know that you were okay and you were alive.” Hoseok’s voice began to quiver and he squatted down in front of you. “Are you okay?” he asked trying to reach out to cup your face in his palm.

You avoided his palm by swatting it away and let out a sigh “that’s none of your business Hoseok”

Hoseok swallowed and looked away at your response “I know that, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t still care about you. “

Your head raised to look him in the eyes and your heart broke when you witnessed a tear roll down the side of his face. Your heart was yelling at you to reach out and run your hand through his hair or for you wipe his tear away, but you knew it wouldn’t be right.

Hoseok looked up and saw how soft your eyes had become and saw the hope in them. He moved a little closer to you and rose up to your desk “Please! Why are we still doing this? I love you so much and would do everything for you. I know you still love me too so why are you separating us?” he asked with a broken voice

You huffed out air as your heart strings were being tugged on. The answer that he wanted wasn’t going to come out of your mouth. And certainly not in the middle of your lecture hall. If you and Hoseok were going to ever have this conversation it would be somewhere were the two of you could actually talk.

You raised your head to see your professor impatiently waiting with his hands on his hips and a foot out forward and you bowed your head to him as you said “I’m sorry, but I have to leave”

You avoided Hoseok as he climbed up beside you and followed you out the doors like a puppy. He held onto you and paid no mind as to what direction you were walking in. He wrapped his arm around you and tried to kiss you and you quickly wrenched away from him

“What the fuck are you doing?” you yelled at him.

Hoseok stood with him mouth open like a fish as he tried to search for any answer that seemed to fit “I thought that we….”

“No Hoseok, no! I’m alive okay! I want to be left alone and certainly don’t want you disturbing my life as I try to move on from what happened.” You yelled back

Hoseok’s face scrunched up and he quietly whispered “I didn’t mean to disturb you”

“Well you have! It was my first fucking day back and all I wanted was to be treated like normal and be able to pick up where things left off. But you had to barge into my lecture and embarrass me in front of the whole god damn class.”

“I didn’t mean to im so-“ Hoseok apologized

“Just fuck off Hoseok!” you yelled over him and walked away.

When you finally got home you crashed in bed and allowed for your tears to fall. Why had you been so mean to Hoseok and why did it bother you so much that he cared for you? it was childish for you to yell at him the way that you did, but you knew that if you allowed for him to touch you that you would give into him and things would be exactly the way that they once were. And right now you still weren’t mentally ready to be in a relationship with anyone.

You allowed yourself to cry over it any lots of other things. And you just cried and cried until you had nothing else left to cry about. You needed to have a moment to allow yourself to let everything off of your chest. It wasn’t until SeRa got home that you had realized what time it was and how long you had actually been crying. Like clockwork she came home at 5 pm and made the two of you dinner and as soon as she was done she came quietly knocking on your door.

“Are you hungry?” she asked from the other side.

You didn’t answer her but instead got out of bed and walked to open up the door. You nodded your head to her and she smiled and turned around to go back to the kitchen to make a plate for you.

You took a seat on the couch and the two of you ate there like you always did, watching some cheesy or horrible reality show as you ate your dinner together.

“So how was school?” she asked you

“Do you really not know anything?” you asked her

She sighed “I do, but I want for you to be the one to tell me about what happened”

You took another bite of your food before you put your fork down and told her about everything that had happened. How you felt embarrassed, but it broke your heart to see him and you wanted to hold him but had the voice in your head telling you it was wrong. Everything.

“It seems like despite everything you still really love him.” she pointed out

You nodded your head but didn’t actually look her in the eyes. For some reason it felt so secretive to actually admit out loud and you had no idea why. “But I was such a bitch to him today there’s no way he would actually forgive me for what I did”

“If I know anything about Hoseok it’s that he’s completely in love with you.” SeRa said making sure that you heard her every word loud and clear. “I think ruling out that he doesn’t have the same feelings after today would be a mistake.” She let you think on it for a moment before she continued “Look if you really feel bad about it then why don’t you come out tonight? Hoseok has a match and I’m sure he would love to see you there cheering him on”

“I’m not ready yet to go back there” you confessed “maybe next time I’ll be a little bit better”

Sera nodded her head and patted you on the leg, “okay, then do you want me to tell Hoseok that you want to talk to him?” she asked with raised brows and a smile, hoping that you would say yes.

“no, no ill tell him myself” you said, your heart pounding in your chest just thinking about what you would say to him once you actually got face to face with him again. At the most you did need to apologize to him

“okay well then I’m gonna go get dressed and head out so that way I can see Minhyukie before I go.” Sera said hopping off of the couch and skipping off to her room.

You focused back on your half eaten food and the tv playing some cheesy drama Sera loves to watch. You picked at your plate as you mindlessly thought through what sera had told you. You did still love him very much and it hurt you to see him so put down by what you said to him. But a large part of you did still really feel like going back to your relationship was not a good idea. It was just too soon and so much chaos made little things even more complicated and you didn’t want to deal with it. You had already received so much attention for being in a relationship with Hoseok and having to fight off all of the girls who had slept with him or either wanted to. And with the negative attention from shownu and then eventually the chaos that came with him, attention was the last thing that you wanted.

“Ill see you later! Don’t forget to lock up tonight!” Sera said almost running out of the door to see Minhyuk

You half laughed at her and watched as she crossed the street and got up to close the door. You had an itch to follow her just down the small path that led to the boys’ house but you talked yourself down from doing it. So you turned around, locked the door and sighed when you finally addressed the new silence in the apartment.

You cleaned the kitchen, did a load of laundry, caught up on late homework and did your best to distract yourself from thoughts that would get you down. There was a small voice in your head that worried if Hoseok was okay after his match. Surely he hadn’t been hit or hurt, but you still wanted the peace of mind of knowing that everything was okay.

You were about to turn off the lights when you heard a knock at the front door. Your heart skipped a beat and you immediately ran to check the peep hole. You saw sera and Minhyuk on the other side and stepped back from the door confused as to why they were back here. You slowly opened the door and stepped out of the way to let them in.

“hey y/n” Minhyuk said with a small smile and waving his hand “I’m gonna go” he said pointing towards Sera’s room, facing her as if he was trying to escape the room.

You turned to face her and you raised an eyebrow “why are you guys here?” you asked her

She dropped her head and bit her lip as if she was trying to find the right words to say. “I don’t think that you should rush into things right now with Hoseok. Give yourself some time to really think about how you feel and then maybe try again with him” she suggested but it didn’t sound quite right

“why? What? What do you mean? You just told me to go to the fight and now you think I should wait?” you asked her searching for her eyes, but she dodged your gaze every chance she got. It took you a moment to digest that something might have actually happened and then you finally asked her “did something happen?”

Sera looked up for a split second before she lowered her gaze again. “Hoseok….” She paused and shut her eyes “He went home with someone tonight”

It took you a split second for you to mentally register what she had said and then your jaw dropped. A tear rushed to your eyes and you turned your head to hide them. “he took someone home?” you asked wanting an answer that you knew wasn’t the truth

“im sorry” sera said as she reached for you to comfort you “but I think Hoseok might be back to his old ways”

NEXT PART

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