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whatareyousearchingfordean · 3 years

Text

A Period Drama

Summary: When that time of the month hits, Y/n wants nothing more than to curl up in bed and forget about the world. Lucky for her, Dean has other plans.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2.1K+

Warnings: Language, discussion of menstrual cycle

Author’s Note: I guess I'm emotional this cycle, who knew? Anyway, I wrote this because I wanted to die the other day, and imagining Dean's cuddles was the only way for me to get through it. This is a work of self-indulgence and therefore the Reader is a little less non-descript than I usually try to write, but that's what these things are for! Hope this helps my fellow menstruating people lie it did me xoxo Alex

Check out Alexandra’s Library for more works by yours truly!

A nagging sensation tugged on her strings of consciousness, bringing the sleeping huntress back to the world of the living. Her mind fought against waking, knowing not nearly enough time had passed since she had retreated to her room the previous evening. As the ache deep in her abdomen became more obvious, she stopped fighting and opened her eyes to the darkness of her room.

“Fuck,” she groaned as she tossed the covers from her body, instantly missing the heat they provided in the recess of the bunker. Y/n rolled from the bed and stood, the action occurring too quickly and the huntress felt the familiar rush between her legs. She cursed herself as she bounded off to the bathroom on the opposite end of the hallway. The socks on her feet muffled her hurried steps as she passed the boys’ rooms.

Once inside, she went straight for the showers and turned the hot water all the way up. Steam enveloped the space as she stripped her soiled panties and old t-shirt from her body. She let the bathroom turn into a makeshift sauna as she rinsed the blood from her undergarments before finally stepping into the boiling shower.

It was unclear how long she stood under the water, searing her flesh and scrubbing away the metaphorical grime, all she knew was the relentless heat was managing to ease the ache from her angry uterus. The tentative knock on the bathroom door snapped her back from the silent reverie she had been indulging in, and Y/n noted how the water had gone almost cold. It was likely she had been in there long enough for Sam to have taken his morning run and if her own body wasn’t attacking itself, she might have felt guilty about using up all the bunker’s hot water.

When she walked out in just a towel, her dirty pajamas rolled into a ball in her arms, she was met with a confused younger Winchester. All she could mutter was a weak ‘sorry’ before she breezed past him and back to her room. The huntress wrapped herself into a pair of sweats and a clean tee, braided her hair out of her face, swallowed a few pain killers, and crawled back under her covers. She thanked whatever higher power had made sure they were hunt-free for the foreseeable future so she could spend the day curled up in a ball. The pills kicked in quick enough to allow her to easily slip back into a blissful sleep.

****

It was nearing one in the afternoon when Dean made his way back inside the bunker, his hands covered in grease and oil from his work tuning up the Impala. He was wiping his hands on an equally dirty towel as he walked into the kitchen to find his little brother making himself a lunch.

“Please tell me that is not your veggie bacon?” Dean wrinkled his nose as he watched Sam putting together a BLT, the various ingredients strewn about the island.

“Fine, then I won’t tell you,” Sam didn’t bother to look up from his task to answer his brother. The look of disgust only depended on Dean’s face as he moved around his sibling to wash his hands in the sink.

The older hunter glanced over his shoulder as the sound of shuffling footsteps grew louder, his gaze landing on a disheveled Y/n. The sweats that hung from her body were wrinkled and she had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. There were lines across the left side of her face, indicating she had been sleeping recently. Worry instantly flooded his system as it was unlike their hunting partner to sleep this late unless she was ill.

“Sam, what did you do with my heating pad?” her voice was coarse as she didn’t even bother with pleasantries. No ‘hello’, no ‘ how are you’, just straight to whatever business she had in with the younger Winchester.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure it’s in the linen closet in the bathroom?” Sam answered, completely unperturbed by her callousness.

“So you put my heating pad in the bathroom,” Y/n rolled her eyes and Sam could only offer her a bewildered nod. “What is with you guys and not being able to put shit back where you found it?” The huntress turned on her heel, not waiting for a response before heading to retrieve the item she was seeking.

Sam looked over his shoulder at his older brother, his brows knit together in the middle of his forehead. “What the hell was that?”

“What’s the one thing Y/n uses her heating pad for?” Dean’s lips cured up on one side as he watched the look of realization flash across his brother’s features. The oldest Winchester dried his hands before peeking in the fridge and a few cupboards. “Looks like she could use a supply run. You need anything?”

“Nah, I’m just going to retreat to my room and pretend like I don’t exist for the rest of the day,” Sam picked up the plate that held his lunch and scurried off, leaving a chuckling Dean behind.

****

The only light filling her room came from the laptop that was perched in her lap, playing some television show she had stopped paying attention to a while ago, and the filtered light from the hall through the slats in her door. The huntress was still curled into a ball under her covers, attempting to use what little bit of heat from her computer she could muster as she had been unsuccessful in located her heating pad. She felt bad for ripping into Sam about it, but the truth was he had misplaced her belongings, something that she found happened often around the Winchesters, and she was over it today. Pain tended to make her grumpy, as it did most people, and she wasn’t going to apologize for being pissed at their carelessness.

A soft rapping against her door had her pausing the show as she shoved the device aside. The guest didn’t wait for a response before they pushed the door open, bringing with them a flood of light. Y/n cringed at the sudden change, hiding her face behind her hand.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Dean’s familiar chuckle sounded before the click of the latch indicated he had closed the door behind him. “I come bearing gifts.”

“What?” she was confused by his words as she dropped her hand and allowed her eyes to adjust back to the relative darkness.

“Your water bottle, half ice, half water,” he set the green canteen on her bedside table. “The heating pad Sammy somehow managed to lose behind the washing machine,” Dean handed her the light green pad folded neatly with the cord sitting on top. Y/n sighed a breath of relief as the eldest Winchester continued. “And a sharable size bag of dark chocolate peanut M&M’s.”

“Dean,” Y/n caught the purple bag as he tossed it her way, biting back a gleeful moan. “I fucking love you.” She unceremoniously tore into the bag and popped a couple of the chocolate candies into her mouth, missing the rush of blood on the Winchester’s cheeks.

“And finally,” he mimicked a drum roll with his mouth and procured a box from his arms, placing it on her bedside table. The woman frowned, unable to make out the object at first in the darkness.

“You bought me tampons? How,” she trailed off, not only awestruck by the hunter’s gesture but amazed at his attention to detail as she read the label.

“There is only one thing you need your heating pad for,” he remarked as he took the referenced object back to plug it into an outlet for her. “Also, you never snap at Sammy.”

“But how did you know what kind to buy?”

“Kind of hard not to when you have a box of them stashed away in Baby’s trunk,” Dean countered as he perched himself on the edge of her bed.

“Hey, those are for emergencies. Besides, I’m sure Baby understands.”

“I’m sure she does.”

Y/n chewed on the inside of her cheek as she fiddled with the bag of candy in her lap, the kindness shown by Dean throwing her off. She offered the open bag to her hunting partner, who snatched a handful for himself with a grin.

“Thank you, Dean, seriously. This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me,” her voice was low as the admittance slipped past her lips. “Want to watch some Scooby-Doo with me? You know, if you aren’t busy or anything?”

“I’d love to, sweetheart,” Dean winked at her, that shit-eating grin never leaving his face even as he stood and shucked off his jacket and boots so he could climb into the bed next to her. “Who could pass up Daphne?”

The huntress sat back against the headboard with a roll of her eyes and switched the streaming show on her laptop before unfolding her already warmed heating pad and laid it across her lower abdomen. She moved the laptop at the end of the bed so they could both see it and set the bag of M&M’s between her and Dean to share.

The two settled into the cartoon, laughing in unison at the ridiculous parts and commenting on how the Scooby gang couldn’t have handled that monster had it been real. Three episodes passed by before a shredding cramp ripped through her stomach, the shock of it enough that she was unable to hide the groan as she had been so far.

“You okay?” Dean shifted in his spot next to her, his head turning from the kids’ show to his friend beside him.

“No, I’m not okay. It feels like my internal organs are attempting to exit my body,” she snapped, instantly regretting it when Dean subtly recoiled. “Shit, I’m sorry. I--I didn’t mean…” Y/n was cut off as the pain returned just as intense as it had been moments ago, causing her to roll onto her side and into a ball, clutching the heat of the pad against her body like a lifeline.

“Alright,” Dean huffed before moving the candy and laptop from the bed. Y/n could hear the hunter shift behind her, but her eyes were clamped shut as she tried to breathe through the pain like she was experiencing the contractions of labor of something. She felt the hard lines of his body lock around the curves of her own and his arm snake around her abdomen. His hand rested over hers as he pulled her tight against him, putting more pressure than she had been able to muster against her lower belly. “I’ve got you.”

The heat of his body on one side and the pad against her stomach, combined with the force he was exerting on her uterus, finally allowed her to relax fully for the first time since she had awoken that morning. She never wanted to leave this moment, utterly content in the peace that his presence in her bed brought her. The idea scared her a little, but she figured that was a problem for another day. Now she chose to just live in this moment for as long as he would let her.

“Why?” she muttered into the dark space after she was sure he had fallen asleep as his grip had relented a touch and his breathing evened out, hoping he wouldn’t answer but knowing she had to ask.

“Cause I wanted to,” his voice was gruff, indicating he had probably been on the cusp of falling asleep when she spoke up. “I hate seeing you like this. Figured it was the least I could do.”

“Dean Winchester, are you going soft on me?” she quirked up one corner of her lips, unable to fight the giddiness his words instilled in her chest.

“Sweetheart, there is nothing soft about me when I’m around you,” he chuckled, earning himself an elbow to the gut. He grunted and the two of them fell into a fit of laughter.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” The hunter was ready for her arm this time, his hand moving to wrap around her forearm and pull it into him so as to trap her even tighter than before in his embrace. Y/n struggled against his hold, giggling like an idiot as the two wrestled in the bed a moment before she relented that he was much stronger than she.

“Honestly,” Dean placed a gentle kiss to her shoulder once she had settled, only encouraging her to melt further into his arms. “I’d do anything to make you smile, Y/n.”

“Well, then mission accomplished, Winchester,” she turned her head to flash him a genuine smile to which he reciprocated before planting his pillow-soft lips against hers.

P.S. I didn't even try on this title because this is just a little therapy piece and therefore no one should judge me.

Forevers: @22sarah08 @440mxs-wife @akshi8278 @anathewierdo @asgoodasdancingqueen @atc74 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @briagallen @callmekda @dawnie1988 @deandreamernp @deangirl93 @deanwanddamons @ellewritesfix05 @emoryhemsworth @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @janicho88 @jbsgirl4ever11 @jensengirl83 @lunarmoon8 @lyarr24 @mishacollins4evah @miss-nerd95 @mrsjenniferwinchester @msmarvelouswinchester @polina-93 @sleepylunarwolf @squirrelnotsam @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @suckmyapplejacks @supraveng @tatted-trina6 @thoughts-and-funnies @traceyaudette @tranquility-or-chaos @waywardbeanie @winchest09

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #spn fanfic #spn fic #alex writes #mine #a period drama

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tamagochiie · 3 years

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when the rumbling came; erwin smith

pairing. Erwin Smith x Fem!reader

synopsis. You were tired of work, of people, and of life treating you poorly. You quickly came to the conclusion that if you were going to end your life, now would probably be a good time as any.

word count. 3.36k

tags + warnings. TRIGGER WARNING! depression, attempted to attempt suicide, reader being completely dead inside (metaphorically), modern!au, office!au (just a pinch), angst, comfort/fluff,

notes. I don’t romanticize depression or suicide. Writing is my way of coping and dealing with everything that’s going on right now; don’t worry, I’m okay, really I am. So, this one shot is more or less self indulgent. Please, if you you’re going through some hardships don’t hesitate to reach out for help. My inbox is also free, and I’m always willing to listen.

You had alway built yourself in a firm foundation made of rocks, that nothing could ever shake you and even if it did, you’d snap back like an elastic band. But very recently, very, very recently, you’ve been living on a faultline and for a while now there’d be tremors - nothing strong enough to shake you, though.

But your foundation soon turned into sand as the weeks came by and stress came to you in waves. The little tremors eventually turned into big ones. You found yourself swaying, crumbling, and now you were barely reaching the end of the week without falling to your knees and weeping, your pleas for mercy hung in the air, right in your face as if it were mocking you.

The home you had built for yourself had fallen into rubble and nothing could protect you.

Nothing could save you from all the wind and rain, and quite frankly, you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to be saved. Being saved meant continuing on, meant trudging through the fight and you had no more fight left in you.

So there you sat, on the very edge of the roof of your office building with your feet dangling. Night life in the city glimmered and glowed, completely ignorant to you suffering. But it looked nice and you found yourself thankful because at least life was kind enough to give you one last “good” view before you did the deed.

I’d just have to scoot and I’d be on my way to the pavement, you thought idly.

You weren’t even scared, and maybe that’s what scared you, that you were completely okay with ending it here. That you didn’t even bat an eye when the idea came into your head while you bought yourself a sandwich during your lunch break.

It kinda felt easy like solving 1+1.

So maybe it was your calmness that scared you. Maybe it's the fact that once you had made up your mind, you had been set as if you were picking out clothes for the next day kind of set.

You swung your feet, feeling yourself scooch closer to the edge and your heart didn’t even race - not even a flutter.

You craned your neck back to look at the sky, not a single star in sight. You heavily sighed and played with your hands while you teared up and eventually cried. All the burdens you carried, the responsibilities you shouldered, and the insecurities you kept close to your heart flooded out of you in one single, painstaking sob.

Your chest heaved and your voice cracked as you screamed into a void, knowing you’d never be heard over all the honking and clamouring from the city beneath you.

“I dunno who's listening,” You croak to the night, your throat dry from all the crying, “but if I’m not supposed to die tonight, can you give me a sign...or something? Like, send someone out here to do a handstand or something. If - If there’s like, any sliver of hope I have left or whatever...If I’m not supposed to end here, then just do that because I really dunno if I’m supposed to hang on anymore...”

You never prayed a single prayer in your life, maybe just once when you were wavering in your ability to attain such a fine job as this, or when both your parents fell ill and you were left alone to fend for yourself. But other than that, you more or less suffered silently, cried to yourself when you needed to, and pulled yourself out of trouble.

It was late into the night, so the prayer was already silly to begin with. Everyone had gone home and you made sure of it because you hid in the bathroom until the lights turned off and the floor of your office was completely silent.

And the more you thought about it, as you imagined yourself hiding in that bathroom like a dumbass, you felt your cheeks flush in embarrassment.

Well, it wasn’t like you were going to be alive to bear it into tomorrow morning anyway.

You flinched at the sudden sound of the fire exit creaking open, the metal scratching against the pavement. You turned your head and squinted at the shadows and the little light provided by the exit sign.

“Hello?” You called out to the shadows and flinched when you saw it move, heedlessly pulling yourself away from the edge as you leaned back to take a closer look.

You gasped lowly as a familiar, rather burly figure emerged from the darkness. It was your boss, Mr. Smith, who had his eyes widen in surprise, as if he was shocked to have actually found someone on the roof.

He narrowed his gaze on you and wore a tight lip as he studied you intently. He stayed near the fire exit, hand in the pocket of his clean cut slacks while the other hung by his side.

You had sworn everyone had gone home.

Not everyone, you supposed.

“Can I help you?” You asked through your sniffling, but Mr. Smith kept quiet; the silence grew to be quite awkward the longer he stood there.

After a few beats, he stepped forward, rolling up the sleeves of his button up shirt before he ran his fingers through his hair. A tremulous breath escaped his lips as he spun on the heels of his shoes, facing the wall.

You cocked your head, blinking owlishly at him. And in one, fluid motion, with little to no effort, he bent down to lean onto his hands and kicked his feet up to the air, leaning against the wall for support.

He did a handstand.

What?

You would be laughing if you weren’t in the state you were in.

Mr. Smith was still looking directly at you as he stood on his hands, his clothes bunched up beneath his chin while his face burned red from the sudden rush of blood to his head.

All you could do was leave your mouth hanging open, blinking at him in bewilderment.

With a faint grunt, Mr. Smith brought his feet back to the ground and pushed himself off his hands. He brushed his hands together to dust away the dirt before he looked back to you as he ran his hands down the creases of his vest.

“Before you say anything,” He spoke, his voice deep and velvety, “I have absolutely no idea why I did that, but there was a little voice in my head that told me to.”

You licked your lips and stayed quiet, still taking in what had just happened.

“But my question is,” He began, “are you okay?”

“Do I look like I’m okay?” You spat, but you bit your tongue and cleared your throat when you realized who you were talking to. “Sorry,” You quietly muttered, twisting yourself back to look at the building in front of you.

You listened as the footsteps behind you drew closer, ultimately coming to a quiet halt.

“Mind if I join you?” He dipped his head down to look at you and you glanced at him in the corner of your eye, shrugging your shoulders.

Mr. Smith took the spot beside you and swung his feet over the ledge, mirroring the way you sat before digging his hand back into his pocket to pull out a packet of cigarettes.

“You got a lighter?” He asked, sticking a cigarette between his lips. You shook your head, amazed at his nonchalant demeanor. “That’s okay, I’ve got one.”

You watched him with a puzzled look as he lit his cigarette and blew a smoke.

It was pretty obvious what you were trying to do; your eyes were red and looked sore, your cheeks stained with tears, and not to mention you were setting on the ledge of a build without your shoes on.

How was he so calm?

“I’ve seen you around the office,” He recalled, blowing a few more smokes before he turned to you, “you look like a hard worker.”

“Depends on how you define ‘hard worker’,” You mumbled. Mr. Smith brought the cigarette in front of you as if signaling you to take it. You do. “I’m more of a half-assed worker that’s just ebbing and flowing bullshit just to get the job done so I can go home and wallow in self-pity in silence.”

He chuckled. It sounded sweet.

“So why are you sitting on the ledge?”

You drew out a smoke.

“I don’t wanna live anymore.” You deadpanned. “I hate my life and I hate that it’s fucked me in the ass -” You blew another smoke before passing it back to Mr. Smith, your body a lot more calmer and your mind unfiltered, “ - without even my consent.”

“I don’t blame you,” He said earnestly, and it shocked you. The golden boy who strolled up and down the office floors with his chest out, head held high, and a smile that made every woman’s knees go weak was agreeing with you. His eyes looked like it held all the hope and promise in the world, yet he was agreeing with you.“But are you sure you wanna do that? What if life gets better?”

You snickered though no trace of amusement on your face.

“I’ve been living on ‘what ifs’, Mr. Smith,” You pointed out plainly, “I’m not about to keep going. What’s the point of living on ‘what ifs’ when nothing happens? At the end of the day, I’m just an idiot that keeps thinking, ‘What if today’s better?’, ‘What if there’s a new flavor of ice cream that’s been released and it turns out to be my favorite?’ -- it’s stupid.”

“What if your boss gives you a raise?” He smirked at you playfully but you only rolled your eyes. “What? It was worth a try.”

“Your try was shit.”

“What about if you tried a different approach?”

“Look, Mr. Smith,” You sighed in annoyance and snatched the cigarette from his hand and propped it between your lips, “I don’t have a lot of fight left in me, okay? I’ve tried, I failed. That’s it. So, would you just leave me to do what I need to do? Please?”

“If you wanted to kill yourself, you would’ve done it by now.”

You threw him a sour look, offended that he didn’t think you could do it.

But why would you be upset about that?

“You don’t know me.” You muttered.

“I know well enough that if you wanted to call quits, you wouldn’t have sat here for nearly an hour, praying for a sign.”

“You heard?”

He nodded.

“You lied!” You raised your voice and without giving it much thought, you punched him in the arm. “You said you didn’t know why you came up here!”

“Oh, I didn’t,” He calmly argued. “Not completely, anyway. I saw you go up when I was on my way out. When I noticed you didn’t take your things, not even your phone, I had a gut feeling it was something bad.”

“I waited for a little while,” He explained, “I thought that maybe you wanted some fresh air, but the longer I waited, the more worried I got. So I went up the steps just to check on you, and your voice...did you know your voice carries well in the stairwell? I heard your voice, small and completely detached from life. Even then, you were asking for help, and how could I refuse?”

“Do you make it a point to get into other people’s business?”

“Only when they’re trying to take their life.”

“And now what?” You sounded detached and uninterested, and he didn’t blame you for it. He never spoke to you outside of meetings or work, not even once. Of course his words wouldn’t have any impact. “Are you gonna tell me not to go through with it, talk me down or something? You gonna tell me ‘If you can’t live for yourself, then live for me’? That kinda dumb shit?”

He shook his head, a faint pout on his lips. Despite your mocking tone, Mr. Smith remained calm and didn’t take it personally. Though you kinda wish he did, so he could leave you alone.

“No, nothing like that....” Mr. Smith weighed his options, choosing his next words and his next approach carefully.

He’s been here before and he falls into shallow thought, remembering all the things he didn’t do and see if he could do it now.

“I - I’ve been both on both ends of the situation, I just -” Mr. Smith sighed heavily, as he rubbed his hands together, “- I didn’t do anything last time, so - so when I saw you I thought maybe I could somehow make up for it.”

“That kinda sounds shitty,” You pointed out.

It was indeed a shitty thing that you were somehow being used to clear a conscience, but you understood where his heart was at. It was nice that he was trying - it was nice that someone had noticed.

But that’s all that it was for you: it was just nice.

“I’m just so fucking tired,” You admitted, your eyes stinging with fresh tears. You tilted your head back to keep it from spilling, but like all of your attempts at anything, you failed. “I’m so fucking tired of being tired, and nothing’s going right. I’ve tried different approaches, changing my mindset. I even did all these stupid Pinterest self-help boards, but that didn’t help either. I’m desperately grasping for straws and I’ve finally decided to just...stop.”

You rolled your head, looking at your boss with lifeless eyes and it terrified him. He didn’t know what to say - not then and most certainly not now. But what does anyone say to a person who’s given up all hope and interest in living?

You seemed to have made up your mind and Mr. Smith worried that he’d have another life in his hands. He didn’t want that and he found himself growing desperate.

He liked you, whether it be a co-worker or something else, he liked seeing you around the office. You were smart and though you looked soft spoken, you most certainly weren’t. You never ceased to amaze him with the things you submitted, so he truly wondered why you felt so inadequate.

Mr. Smith couldn’t help but blame himself for not paying attention.

“I say don’t die,” He said rather confidentiality, and you furrowed your brows at this. He was becoming persistent in his meddling. “I say wait it out another day or week, and then if you really wanna, fine. I’ll even leave the emergency exit unlocked for you.”

You widened your eyes, your mouth parted but not a single sound came out.

“Why should I wait when I can do it right now?”

“Because of the ‘what ifs’.”

You grunted.

“I already told you --”

“Yes, but what if I tried to help you?”

“I’m not going to be your charity case, Mr. Smith,” You chastised. “I’d rather die than be your charity case.”

“You won’t be,” He said rather calmly. A small smile crept across his lips and his eyes twinkled against the faint glow of the city lights. “You’ll be my friend and I, too, need a friend.”

“Mr. Smith --”

“Call me Erwin.”

You cleared your throat. You felt embarrassed to say the least. You opened your mouth and found it weird when you spoke his name. You didn’t like it, but it was something you could get used to.

“Why would you wanna be my friend?”

“Because life’s fucked me in the ass without my consent, too.” It was weird hearing something so crass coming from the poster boy of perfection and all things pure. You almost thought you’d completely lost it and had imagined he ever said it. “And I heard that suffering with someone makes the experience a little less painful and a little more bearable. So, won’t you be my friend and suffer with me?”

Mr. Smith noticed your hesitance, even more so when he held his left hand out for you to take. It felt formal like he was trying to close a business deal or something. It was a bit weird.

“You’re not gonna be my reason for living,” You said, letting his hand awkwardly hang in the air. But he didn’t bother to retract it. “I’m not looking for a savior.”

“You’re looking for your strength and so am I, so let’s just look together and see what we find, mm?”

You looked at him, studied him. Why did he care so much, and why did you want to know?

After all, you did ask for a sign, yet here you were being stubborn and pretending as if you hadn’t seen it at all. You didn’t believe in miracles or spectacular alignments of the universe, but when you took his hand, you felt a warmth of reassurance - a sense of peace.

Suddenly, with a high pitch yelp from your lips, Mr. Smith quickly moved his left hand and wrapped it over you and pulled you down with him as he threw himself back onto the pavement behind you. His right hand cushioned your blow and he winced in pain when he caught you.

You found yourself tightly gripping onto the material of his sleeve when you took a peak to check on Mr. Smith. He was looking down at you, a nervous smile plastered across his face.

You shoved him off, muttering to yourself as you patted yourself down.

“That was uncalled for.” You grumbled.

“How would I know? You would’ve changed your mind for all I know.”

“I took your hand!” You chided. “That was basically me saying, ‘Okay, I’ll be your friend’! What if you had thrown yourself forward instead!”

“But I didn’t.” He replied calmly, a smile, one that irked you completely, pulled the corners of his lips.

“Yeah, but what if you had?”

“But I didn’t.”

He stood up from the floor and patted the dust and dirt of his pants before reaching down to help you up from the ground.

“Thank you for being my friend,” Mr. Smith grinned. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

You rolled your eyes as he kept his hold around your hand, shaking it.

“Your promises don’t mean much to me.”

It had been months since your moment on the rooftop with Erwin. Though he had been keen, inviting you out for lunch, for dinner, and spared some time for small talk in passing, you were still walking on eggshells, especially because you worried that it might’ve looked unprofessional.

But really, no one cared as much as you did. Everyone had just assumed Erwin was just being kind. But still, it gave you more stress than it did comfort you, and though you had spat a few unkind words his way, he never left.

He always came back with a bright smile and offerings, whether it were candies or actual food.

Eventually, you eased in and you were no longer agitated. You found yourself looking forward to Erwin’s occasional visits to your desk or when he’d ask you out for some coffee.

At the end of every day Erwin would never miss a beat and would ask you how you were doing, and it never felt performative or forced. He was warm and genuine, and he’d share his burdens with you, too.

And you found yourself realizing that he was right, that struggling with someone made things a little less painful and a little more bearable. That despite the struggle, knowing someone so patient and understanding, would be there to catch you.

“Hey,” You spoke over the rim of your freshly brewed tea as you sat across the little round table of the coffee shop. Erwin’s eyes flicked up at you as he took a bite of his muffin. “Thanks,”

He raised a brow and cocked his head to the side, “What for?” He asked, his words muffled by his stuffed mouth.

“Thanks for being my friend.”

He smiled, a few crumbs falling from his lips and onto his plate.

“Thank you for being mine.”

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ererokii · 3 years

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This is my first request so I hope I do it right. I was wondering if you could do something with Todoroki and/or Tamaki with Y/N always pinning after them but after awhile they give up and the boy(s) notice and don’t like the absence of them. Like, you decide if they always liked them and they just didn’t know how to act around them or they realized they liked them now that their gone. @corallilac0101102

I tried a different format this time! And I like it so i might be using this one a lot more often. Sorry for the wait lovely! I hope you like it! unedited, sorry if its not the best

He’s too shy to even notice the attempts you made to know him better.

He can barely talk to you without having to meet the wall for the fifth time that day.

When you pair up with him for a group project, you are so happy. Words couldn’t express the emotions you were feeling. You gained a crush on the indigo haired boy in your second year but whenever you talked to him, he would flee.

But in your third year, you weren’t having it. And with this project, it ensured that you can actually talk to him.

You knew he was quiet, but you expected him to make an effort for small talk. By all means you would have never spoken to him if he was going to be like this.

After a while of him shunning you by turning his back to you to pretend to do something else, was starting to get to you. You couldn’t even get a small hello from him. If you were being honest, he was hurting your feelings with no ill intention. He never showed any emotion to you once so ever.

Were you that horrible? Were you annoying?

Did he not like you?

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Tamaki expected you to talk to him once again. He loved listening to your voice. He thinks it’s soothing and can calm his nerves. The only problem for him; he can’t talk back to you without getting nervous. He enjoys seeing how animated your hands are when you speak about something you’re passionate about. But because of how happy you are when talking to him, he can’t return the same energy back until the feeling of nausea ever goes away.

His eyes trail on your sluggish figure as you walk to your seat beside him. He stayed silent as normal, waiting for your cheerful greeting. But nothing came. He eyed you from his peripheral vision, a sad feeling dwelling in his body at your sadden look. What happened?

“We should get started now. We’re almost done and I want to finish this,” you finally spoke up after a quiet moment, pulling things out of your backpack. An underlying of anger and sadness could be heard in your tone. A brush of your shoulder against his sent chills up his arms. He didn’t expect you to be so quiet.

The duration of class was a nightmare. He hated the awkwardness between you. Why couldn’t you just speak to him? Or at least, why couldn’t he speak to you?

Small pants left Tamaki’s mouth as he quickly followed you down the corridor. “Y-Y/N!” he watched as your body halted, looking over your shoulder. He noticed a look of hurt in your eyes. “What was that back there..?”

“What do you mean? I was just tired. Seems that you don’t like talking to me anyway.”

His heart ached as he shook his head, approaching you. “N-No course that’s not it! I love being around you! You just make me so nervous that I don’t know how to act!”

“Then why does it seem like I bother you? You always shun me away or you never acknowledge me. Don’t worry. I got your message.”

“No it’s not like that! I really like you and you make me nervous!”

Those few words were enough to make changes in your relationship. And since then, he made an effort to talk to you, even though it pained him to do so. If it meant seeing your smile again, he would do it.

Oh Todoroki notices you, he for sure does. He’s very observant. He notices the way you greet him first thing in the morning, you walk with him to lunch and you’re always walking to class with him.

At first he wonders why you want to befriend him. I mean why? He was socially awkward and dense. Very dense.

And Todoroki is blunt, he says it how it is.

When you ask him a bunch of questions to try to get to know him, he thinks it’s pointless. And he would rather not talk about his personal things. He thinks it’s weird to tell someone his favorite color, if he even has one.

There were points where your presence just became too much for him. He slowly gets aggravated when you continue your actions. His tone is more snappish. He’s losing his patience. But he feels terrible, because he knows you only meant well.

But he can’t help but snap at you one day when your questions become a little too personal.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Many times his heart ached when he saw you with Kirishima or even Bakugou. He couldn’t blame anyone else besides himself. He only feels this upset when his eyes lay on his father, someone he didn’t want to affiliate himself with. But by the looks of it, both of them fail in maintaining relationships.

He could go for someone asking him thousands of useless questions. Todoroki feels lonely as he awaits for you to come back, but you don’t.

The son of the Pro Hero watches as you walk right past him in the hallway. A small incoherent noise leaves his mouth as he follows you from behind, reaching out for your arm, “H-Hey YL/N!”

You just wanted him to leave you alone already. You got his message, so why was he bugging you now?

“Look, Todoroki, I know. You don’t have to tell me twice. I’m leaving you alone, for good.”

A groan is heard as he shakes his head, trying his best to plead with you. “No that’s not what I meant. I meant-”

“You didn’t mean it in a rude way. Don’t worry, it’s okay. I’m okay now. Really.”

“I’m not used to it!” he blurts out suddenly, eyes wide from his outburst, seeing your startled expression. He sighs quietly as he grabs both of your hands in his warm ones, staring into your eyes. “What I meant to say, was that I’m not used to it. At all. I never had someone try to know me. So when you asked me those questions, I got overwhelmed. It was never my intention to belittle you like that.”

You stayed silent, choosing to look for an answer in his eyes. “Are you serious?” you ask quietly, averting your gaze from him after a few seconds of intense eye contact.

“Yes, I am.”

“..you goddamn idiot. You could have just told me from the start!!”

He defends himself once more as you laugh away, the thick air that was between you, was now gone. Honestly, if he was upfront with you, this whole ordeal wouldn’t exist.

#tamaki amajiki x reader #amajiki tamaki x reader #amajiki x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #mha #bnha #my hero academia x reader #boko no hero academia x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #tamaki amajiki #shouto todoroki #submission

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

dry me off and hold me close

Summary: Derek has finally relented and is bringing his boyfriend Spencer to meet the rest of the team. That means, though, he has to finally tell them about his boyfriend's disability. Terrified that they'll react badly, he puts it off until he can't anymore. Turns out he was worried for nothing.

Tags: so much fluff, protective derek, disabled spencer, caretaker derek, au: spencer is not in the bau, team as family, hurt/comfort, light angst, est. rel, day to day disabled life, physical disability/chronic illness

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 5.7k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Hello! I am nervous to share this one, I won't lie. It's incredibly personal. It was a pain in the arse to write but I love how it turned out and I hope you do, too. Just a note: this may be triggering for some people - there is description of nausea and severe chronic pain, as well as frequent references to ableism towards wheelchair users.

As soon as Rossi brings up the prospect of a fully-catered family dinner at his ‘mansion’ this weekend, Derek’s heart sinks. They’re on their way home from a pretty gruelling case and it’s well-deserved of course, but he knows what comes next, knows what question will be asked of him, and he’s dreading it. There’s only so long he can go on avoiding answering.

“Please tell me you’ll finally let us meet Spencer, Derek,” JJ asks, levelling him with a look to rival one of Penelope’s. “At this point I’m starting to think you’ve made him up.”

Spencer is very real. He’s a very real, very sexy, very intelligent man who Derek has no doubt would get on brilliantly with the team. But Spencer also happens to be disabled. And while his boyfriend has had decades to get to terms with broaching such a sensitive, taboo topic, Derek has not. He’s far from ashamed of Spencer — that’s not it at all — he’s just so protective of him, and the idea of others being touchy or patronising or outright rude around him is an idea he’s never been able to get used to, no matter how many times he’s witnessed it.

Derek’s laugh is strained as he rubs his face awkwardly, trying to find the words to politely decline, but the others are pouncing on him before he can speak.

“You’ve put it off enough times now, Morgan,” Emily says, siding with JJ. “If he’s even half of what you say he is then we’ll love him. Just bring him along. Rossi doesn’t mind.”

“Oh no, I’m dying to meet the man who could finally tie Derek Morgan, ladies man extraordinaire, down,” Rossi chimes in.

“He definitely sounds like my kind of guy,” Alex agrees. “I’m impressed you managed to land such an educated man, Derek.”

He looks sort of desperately towards Hotch who raises his hands guiltily. “I would actually like to meet him, too, Morgan,” he says reluctantly, a rare smile playing across his face.

Derek groans and throws his head back against his plane seat. He can only be glad Penelope isn’t on the flight because she’d be absolutely relentless in such a conversation.

As hesitant as he is to let his team in, maybe it is time to finally get over himself and bring Spencer to meet them. After all, none of them have ever given him actual cause to be so nervous, and he knows they’d all inevitably fall in love with him almost as quickly as Derek did, so really it’s his own fears and fierce protective instincts keeping Spencer away from his second family.

“Fine,” he relents, anxious butterflies not easing. “He’s home this weekend, and apart from planning lectures I think he’s free, so I’ll ask him. But I can only promise to ask, I won’t promise he’ll agree.” It’s a pointless caveat; Spencer’s been bugging him to meet the team almost as long as they’ve been bugging him to meet Spencer, he’ll jump at the chance to go to dinner with them.

“Finally,” JJ groans, pretending to collapse against Emily in relief, who giggles fondly at her antics.

“I’m sure we’ll love him, Derek,” Rossi says reassuringly, a proud fatherly look on his face that has his chest clenching painfully.

As everyone settles down, his stomach churns anxiously as he stares back out of the jet window. He knows everyone will love Spencer; he just doesn’t know how to tell them what to expect. What if Spencer has a fainting episode or gets nauseous at dinner time? What if he can’t keep his energy up or is too photosensitive to have the lights on? What if meeting that many people at once overwhelms him? Spencer always tells him he worries too much, but he can’t help it — not when the love of his life is involved.

He’s brought out of his nervous stewing by Hotch. “You know, Morgan, if you really don’t want to bring Spencer, you don’t have to,” he says softly, making him look up to see everyone staring at him guiltily.

“We didn’t mean to pressure you,” JJ says hesitantly, and the others agree, all clearly having noticed his pensive expression.

He forces himself to take a calming breath and bite the damn bullet already. Spencer would be rolling his eyes at him. “Okay. There’s something I haven’t told you,” he starts carefully. He hasn’t had to introduce the concept of Spencer’s disability to anybody since he told his family. “Spencer is disabled. He has a chronic condition that impairs his mobility along with bringing a whole host of other symptoms, and while he’s had it for most of his adult life, I’m still not used to broaching the topic and I didn’t know how you would react. He already experienced enough difficulties in life, he doesn’t need my co-workers, hypothetically, being patronising or weird about it. So, I put it off.”

It feels like a weight off his chest once it’s out in the air, but the surprised looks on his team’s face make him briefly wonder whether telling them was a mistake after all. “Spencer will really look forward to coming though,” he rushes to continue. “He’s on his own a lot of the time and struggles to make it out of the house except for work if I’m not there, so he can feel quite isolated. It will be nice for him to spend time with other people, and finally meet you guys.”

By the time he’s finished speaking, everyone seems to have mostly recovered from their immediate shock, and look relaxed and intrigued again — far more appreciated expressions on Derek’s end.

“Well,” Rossi starts, and he feels like holding his breath in anticipation, “will he need any accommodations?” Relief spreads warm and thick across Derek’s chest as he feels himself physically relax. Of course immediate support would be the response from his team; he was stupid to think otherwise.

“His mobility fluctuates daily. Sometimes he can walk small distances okay, other times — and more frequently — he needs aids like forearm crutches or his wheelchair. Can I text you on the day and let you know?”

“Of course,” Rossi promises, a warm smile on his face, “whatever you and Spencer need.”

“There is one more thing, if Spencer’s coming it will need to be earlier in the evening… think more six rather than eight. He’ll be too exhausted later in the evening and he needs to be home early to get the amount of sleep he needs.”

“That’s fine,” Rossi agrees immediately, “six it is.”

“Sorry for pressuring you, Derek,” JJ says, tilting her head as she looks across the table at him. “But we’ll love Spencer, this won’t change anything.”

“Yeah, fuck you for thinking we’d be assholes about it,” Emily chuckles, punching him softly in the arm.

Derek grins at her before shaking his head. “I’m just too protective of him,” he explains a little guiltily. “He thinks it’s ridiculous but I can’t help it. We’ve been together nearly five years now and I’ve seen the things he has to go through, professionally and in his day to day life. I just saw an area for potential harm, no matter how slim the chances, and immediately bricked it up in my mind. It’s hard to tear walls down like that.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” Alex says in her signature gentle tone, smiling at him.

“I can’t wait to meet him,” Hotch agrees and Derek gives them all another quick smile before they settle in for the rest of the flight.

It’s late by the time Derek unlocks the door to his and Spencer’s home and he knows his boyfriend will already be in bed. It had been a weird adjustment when they’d first started dating, Spencer having to be home by 10pm so Spencer could get at least nine hours of sleep, topped up by regular naps during the day. Now though, he’s completely used to operating around Spencer’s sleep schedule; it’s just routine.

He makes his way through the house quietly, toeing his shoes off and shedding his coat before dumping his bag in the living room and padding up the stairs. The house is dark but their room is dimly lit by Spencer’s night lamps, there to ease him off to sleep and keep him company when bouts of painful insomnia torment him. There was a time Derek used to mind, but those days seem so long ago now. He climbs carefully onto the mattress, taking off his trousers and socks but not bothering to change into anything new.

As gentle as he is with his movement, Spencer still stirs beside him. “Derek?” He blinks sleepily over at him in the soft light of the bedroom and Derek immediately scoots over and wraps him in a hug. It might be gone midnight but he misses Spencer like crazy when he’s away and physical contact is very much essential business right now.

“Yeah, baby,” he whispers as he relishes the feeling of Spencer’s small frame against his own. “Sorry I woke you.”

“It’s okay. Just glad you’re home. Missed you.”

“I promise I missed you more,” Derek murmurs as the warmth of the room and comforting presence of his boyfriend wrapped around him finally break down the walls he’s been holding back the sleepiness working a 5 day case inevitably brings.

“Make me pancakes in the morning?”

Spencer doesn’t need to ask, it’s a tradition for Derek to make pancakes for breakfast the day he gets back from the case, but it makes him smile anyway. “Anything for you, baby boy,” he yawns. “Go back to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

⭐️

Derek waits until dinner the next evening to bring up the subject of the dinner party. It’s just a simple takeaway on the sofa of the house Derek had renovated for them, but even five years into their relationship, every moment shared with Spencer feels like a date.

“How would you feel about going to a dinner party with the team?” Derek asks when there’s a lull in their conversation. Spencer’s just finished explaining a complicated debate he’s having with one of his colleagues about kinetic particle theory and Derek has no idea how to respond. Moments like these used to make him feel stupid and inadequete when they first got together, but now he just stares fondly at his genius boyfriend and wonders how on earth he got so lucky.

Spencer lowers his fork. They’re eating chinese but he still hasn’t mastered chopsticks, and it never fails to make Derek smile. “Are you serious?” he says, an excited grin spreading across his face.

“I am.” He quirks an amused eyebrow as he takes in Spencer’s eager expression. God, he’s so fucking in love.

“Well obviously I want to go,” he giggles, “you know that. When is it?”

“Saturday.”

Spencer just launches himself into Derek’s lap in lieu of response, not that he has far to move on their cosy sofa, slotting himself against his body as they melt into one another. “Thank you for finally getting over yourself,” he says with his face buried in Derek’s neck.

Derek’s responding laugh jostles both of them as he wraps his arms around Spencer’s small frame, loving the way he fits in the palms of his hands. “I’m sorry it took me so long, baby,” he says, tone transitioning into sincerity. “But they can’t wait to meet you, and you’re going to love them.”

“I know,” Spencer says drily, pulling back to look him in his eyes. “Why do you think I’ve been pushing to meet them for the last five years?”

Derek answers with a squeeze to Spencer’s waist and a kiss to his shoulder. “Go on,” he says, lifting him off his lap to sit on the sofa next to him. “Finish your dinner.”

“Mm, I think I’ve had enough,” Spencer hums nonchalantly, busying himself with putting the carton on the coffee table as if Derek doesn’t know him like the back of his hands.

“This is your favourite dish from your favourite Chinese and you’re expecting me to believe you’ve just had enough,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “What’s wrong, pretty boy?”

“Nothing,” Spencer says, but he sounds winded and Derek isn’t stupid. He levels him with a look. “Okay… I just feel a bit sick is all.”

“Floor, sofa, or bed?” He’s aware of the nausea protocol, and he moves his own dinner aside as he springs into action.

“Floor.” He’d been surprised the first time his boyfriend had crawled onto the floor and lay curled up until the nausea passed, but it was second-nature now. Apparently, the flat, firm surface was the most comfortable when such intense sickness consumed him.

“Okay, baby, let’s go.” He gently lifts Spencer off the sofa and down onto the floor, taking care not to jostle him too much. His eyes stay closed, face screwed up as he tries to weather the waves of nausea crashing over him. It never fails to make Derek’s heart twist in pain. “Are you actually going to be sick?” The majority of nausea spells usually pass on their own with no vomit to speak of, and Spencer’s usually very good at telling which kind it is.

“No,” he whispers, reaching his hand slowly towards Derek’s and gripping it tightly. He gets the message and lays down next to him, stroking his hair softly as they wait in silence for Spencer’s body to right itself. It only takes about twenty minutes to pass, and when it does, Derek carries him to bed, bringing him his toothbrush and a flannel as they follow another of their set routines that have been established over so many years of being together.

“I love you so much, Spencer Reid,” Derek murmurs as they lay in bed together that night, the soft light of their bedroom catching on Spencer’s cheekbones.

“I love you more, Derek Morgan,” Spencer whispers back, voice slurred as he cuddles further into the arms of his boyfriend.

“Not possible,” Derek insists, but Spencer’s already dropping off to sleep.

⭐️

Spencer wakes up on the day of the dinner party in what Derek can clearly see is nothing short of agony. He doesn’t try to hide it, they’re mostly past that now — although he still sometimes convinces himself he can handle smaller symptoms by himself, no matter how many times Derek insists they’re a team — but he doesn’t say much either. The morning is spent on the sofa, using numerous heated blankets and painkiller combinations until he can at least think straight.

“How do you feel about this evening?” Derek asks as lunchtime approaches, rubbing Spencer’s good arm gently as he leans against him, legs outstretched on the chaise.

Spencer hums. “I’m gonna take a nap after lunch,” he decides after a moment of deliberation, “and then decide. I think with meds and the wheelchair, I’ll be okay.” He pauses for a moment as he nibbles nervously on his bottom lip. “Do you think they’ll be weird about the chair?”

“No, baby,” Derek says decisively. Really, he can’t believe he ever thought anything different, but he was scared and fear easily spirals into irrationality. “They won’t even blink. Especially since I warned them about the mobility aids. I think they’d be more surprised if you walked into the Rossi mansion.”

“You sure?”

It hurts Derek’s heart to hear him so anxious and uncertain, and it’s only more painful because he knows it's rooted in experience. He’s had to fight for most of his life to be seen as a competent adult, equal to his peers despite his disability, and people can be cruel. “I’m sure. And even if for some reason they were dicks about it, I’m there, okay? Nobody’s gonna get away with being anything other than an angel towards you when I’m around.”

Spencer giggles at that, turning his head into Derek’s chest. “You turn into the hulk when you’re protecting me.”

“I do,” he agrees, chuckling at the sound of Spencer’s adorable laugh, “and for good reason. No-one hurts my baby. You know that, and everyone else knows it, too. We’re gonna be just fine, pretty boy.”

Spencer sighs, reassured by Derek’s words. “Love you,” he whispers, twisting a bit to press a kiss to the side of Derek’s neck.

“I love you more,” Derek promises, lifting a hand to rest on Spencer’s cheek.

“Not possible.”

The rest of the day passes slowly as Spencer takes it easy, deciding that he’s definitely up to it after a decent nap curled up against a reading Derek. They get ready together, Derek helping him shower when his arms hurt too much to wash his hair and getting him dressed in his favourite outfit before dressing himself.

By the time six thirty rolls around, Spencer’s feeling a little bit better, his meds are hitting the spot and they’ve mastered all the wheelchair adaptations to make his life as easy as possible over the years. His cushions and heated seats connected to the wheelchair’s motor, which he uses to help self-propell at work, ease the pain as much as they can and the built in phone charger always makes him popular whenever they go out with friends. Plus, his cane and crutches connect neatly to the back of the chair, giving him more options, which is especially helpful on nights like this.

“Comfy?” Derek asks as he pushes him out of the apartment and into the hallway, locking the door behind them.

Spencer hums in affirmation, wiggling a little as he settles into the warm support of the chair. They have a ground floor apartment for safety reasons: Spencer needs to be able to exit the building if the lifts stop working, but it’s also convenient. They get down to the garage quickly and Derek helps him into the passenger seat before packing the wheelchair in the boot.

He spends the journey in contemplative silence and Derek can’t keep himself from shooting worried looks his way. His hand makes its way onto Spencer’s knee and he rubs his thumb gently against the skin, before stilling the digit, all too conscious of how painful repetitive stimulus can be, especially on days like these.

“Stop worrying, baby,” he says, ten minutes into the drive when Spencer still hasn’t said a word. His bottom lip is chapped from the worried chewing it has endured for most of the day. “They’re going to love you, I promise.”

“You really think so?”

Derek’s about to answer quickly but he looks over and sees how absolutely dead serious Spencer is. He sighs. “Let me tell you exactly why. Alex is a fellow academic with the softest streak of anyone in the BAU field team. Emily and JJ have the ability to befriend literally anyone, and Penelope already is in love with you, just from what I’ve said about you. She’s told me so multiple times. Rossi immediately accommodated you and wasn’t at all fazed when I mentioned your disability. Hotch is a gentle fatherly type when he’s talking to good people and the rest of the team, so he’ll just be interested in you as a person. There’s no-one I’m worried about, okay?”

“Okay,” Spencer whispers eventually, finally sounding like he actually believes him.

“Besides, you’ve already got one member of this team whipped,” Derek smirks, glancing over at him again.

He considers it a win when Spencer rolls his eyes, and his grin couldn’t be wider when he hears him mumble, “arrogant asshole” under his breath.

Derek’s grateful Rossi doesn’t have a gravel driveway as he gets Spencer out of the car and into his wheelchair, before pushing him the short way to the front door. They’d battled some tough terrain over the years, and gravel was absolutely his least favourite. As they approach the house, though, he notices that Spencer’s grip on his armrest is tight enough that his knuckles are white, and it hurts Derek’s heart that he’s only this nervous because real people and real experiences have given him genuine reason to be.

Before he gets to knock, though, the door is thrown open by an uncontainably excited Penelope. “You’re here!” she shouts, and completely bypasses Derek to shake Spencer’s hand. He’s glad she doesn’t crouch, just leans down a little so he doesn't have to reach up so far. “You must be Spencer. I’m Penelope. It is a crime that Derek has kept us apart for so long, but none of that matters now. Would you like me to push you in through to meet the others?”

“Um, it’s nice to finally meet you, Penelope,” he says, smiling at her genuinely. “Would you mind if Derek keeps pushing me, though?”

“Oh, no, that’s fine!” Her smile doesn’t drop a bit. “Come through, everyone’s already in the living room. Oh, and hi Chocolate Thunder.” She sends him a quick wink.

“Hi, Mama,” he says, rolling his eyes. He’s grinning, though. So far, so good.

They follow Penelope further into the house after Derek closes the door behind them, and the girls get up first. “Spencer, oh it’s so good to meet you,” Emily says, coming up and shaking his hand. “I’m Emily, this is JJ.”

“Hi,” JJ says, shaking his hand too, giving him a conspiratorial look. “I’m glad we finally bullied Derek into bringing his oh-so-secret beau to meet us.”

Derek just grins. “What can I say? I’m protective of my baby.” He reaches down and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“Ignore this caveman,” Spencer laughs, and Derek is sure he rolls his eyes again. “I’ve been dying to meet you all, too.”

“Well, it’s our pleasure,” Alex says, coming up for her turn. “I’m Alex. Your paper ‘How Thinking Makes Us Write’ you published a couple of years ago is incredible; I used it in my Psychology of Writing class last year and only just realised it was written by Derek’s top-secret boyfriend! I’d love to talk to you more about that later.”

“That’s so cool, wow, yeah I’d love that.” He smiles at her, clearly feeling a little flattered by the immediate praise of his work. Derek thinks it’s the least he deserves.

“I’m Aaron, but everyone calls me Hotch,” Hotch says as he and Rossi step forward, a warm smile on his face. “Sorry to overwhelm you with all these introductions, but it’s lovely to meet you. It really is a shame Derek’s been so secretive.”

Spencer smiles up at him. “Are we all going to dunk on Derek all night? Because if that’s the case, I’m glad I came,” he laughs, twisting around slightly to look at Derek.

“Yeah, yeah, keep talking, pretty boy,” he says, raising a brow. “Two can play at that game.”

“You’re too whipped, I’m not worried,” Spencer dismisses him, before touching his hand lovingly, letting him know that he’s only teasing.

“I don’t doubt it,” Rossi says. “I’m Dave, or Rossi, whichever you prefer. I actually own this house, despite being the last in line for a formal introduction. I’m sorry I didn’t greet you at the door, Penelope had been waiting on the stairs for half an hour so she could be the first to greet you.”

“That true, baby girl?” Derek chuckles, looking over at her.

She doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed, but then Derek doesn’t know what else he expected. “This is on you,” she defends herself, “if you hadn’t waited so long to introduce me to baby genius here, I wouldn’t have been so desperate to meet him.”

Spencer laughs at their interaction, turning his attention back to Rossi. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says. “Derek told me you were really accommodating, so thank you for that.”

He waves the thanks aside with a dismissive hand. “It’s nothing. Speaking of which, though, would you rather eat in your wheelchair or transfer to one of the dining chairs.”

Derek knows what’s about to happen even before he sees Spencer tense up. “Give us one second,” he says, wheeling him out into the hallway. Decisions are really hard for Spencer to make on bad days, especially those that pertain to his health or needs, and being under the eyes of so many people was not about to make that an easy interaction.

“Derek…” Spencer says anxiously, looking at him for help as he feels his mind spiral into fogginess at the question.

“Okay, it’s okay, baby,” he says soothingly, crouching down in front of him to be at eye level. He takes his hand and kisses it gently. “Do your hips need a break from the chair or would it be more painful to transfer?”

Phrasing questions like Rossi’s as directly applicable choices is always more digestible for Spencer and he sees him visibly relax at his words. “Hips need a break.”

“Great,” Derek says. “Do you want to go back in or do you need a minute to yourself?”

“No, I’m fine,” Spencer says, and he believes him. He instantly relaxed at having made a decision. “Let’s go back in.”

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

They walk back into a room full of vibrant conversation and laughter. “Oh, Spencer, Spencer,” Emily says, immediately roping him back into the conversation without making a big deal of him having to leave the room, “we’re debating whether Derek’s really the slob Alex insists he is. You need to help us settle it.”

“I shared a room with him once, okay,” she says, “it was a state!”

“I don’t doubt it,” Spencer agrees. “At home, he’s so anal about ‘everything in it’s place’ and won’t even let a mug sit on the counter without being washed up. But whenever we go away, he can’t keep the place clean, it’s the weirdest thing. It’s like his suitcase vomits its contents all over the room.”

“Hey, I didn’t know this dinner was gonna be all about airing my dirty laundry,” Derek laughs.

“Literally,” JJ points out.

“Right,” Rossi says, interrupting the laughter filling the room. “Dinner is ready, so we should eat. Did you come to a decision about seating, Spencer?” Derek’s impressed at how much he knows about accommodating disabilities. He probably has someone close to him who’s been through something similar to Spencer.

“I’ll transfer,” he confirms.

“Great, we can just move your wheelchair to the hall once you’re settled so it’s not in the way, if that’s okay?”

At Spencer’s nod, they all file into the kitchen/dining area and choose their places. Penelope bags the seat to Spencer’s left, Derek sitting to his right, as the other girls sit opposite them. Hotch and Rossi sit at Derek's end of the table. He holds hands with Spencer under the table all through the delicious pasta primavera, helping to ground him, reminding him he’s right there.

Conversation and laughter flows with the wine Rossi serves, and Derek doesn’t even mind his embarrassing stories being shared with the team, because it’s Spencer, and he’s so far gone for this man that he could slice him open and with his dying breath, Derek would thank him.

“I love you, really,” Spencer grins up at him, after he’s just revealed his Nina Simone shower concerts to everyone sitting around the table, everyone cracking up as the tough exterior Derek’s built up at work over the years slowly disintegrates, his own boyfriend fuelling the fire.

“And I love you, baby,” he says, leaning over to kiss him briefly, before pulling back. “Even when you spill my deepest darkest secrets.”

“Well, aren’t you two just the cutest,” Alex says fondly. “You’re a lucky man, Derek.”

“No, I’m the lucky one,” Spencer insists. “Do you know what he said when we first met? We were at the supermarket, and I was reaching for some baby carrots. He said ‘whoa, pretty boy, don’t get those ones. They go off far too quickly. Someone as beautiful as you deserves better than that’. No mention of the wheelchair or bags under my eyes. He didn’t see Disabled Spencer, he just saw Spencer. Asked for my number then and there.”

“You were irresistible,” Derek says fondly, brushing a thumb against his cheek. “I knew right at that moment I would spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Stop,” Penelope begs, “my heart is literally a puddle on the floor. This world needs more Derek Morgans.”

“I’ll toast to that,” JJ says, her face just as soft as Penelope’s.

“A real toast,” Hotch says, raising his glass with a happy smile on his face. Derek very rarely sees such a relaxed expression on his face, and as much as they have their disagreements, it’s a nice thing to see. “A toast to Derek and Spencer. May your happiness live long and be as contagious as it is tonight.”

Everyone toasts to his words, and Spencer buries his face in Derek’s shoulder, a little embarrassed at the attention. They sit around the table a little longer, but Spencer slowly sags against his body, finding it painful to keep himself upright.

Noticing this, Penelope claps her hands. “Shall we move back to the living room? I bought chocolate and Rossi has wine.”

“This is true,” Rossi says as they all get up. He grabs Spencer’s wheelchair from the hall and Derek helps him back into it as they head back to the sofas.

“It’s weird using my chair inside,” Spencer laughs as Derek pulls him into his chest so he doesn’t have to keep himself steady upright, everyone else settling themselves around the room.

“Do you not need it often?” Hotch asks.

“No, I need it quite a lot. I just don’t usually have to. Derek’s usually fairly insistent on carrying me around our apartment.”

“We’ll never live in a big house,” Derek says, chuckling along with anyone else. “I couldn’t haul this big lug around a Rossi mansion, now could I?”

“Hey!” Spencer smacks his side lightly.

“You’re 6 foot tall, baby,” Derek defends himself. “You might be tiny but there’s still a lot of you.”

“Fair enough,” Spencer acquiesces, laying his head just under Derek’s chin.

“Right,” Rossi says, coming back into the room, “I have more of your non-alcoholic wine, Spencer, and more of the real stuff for everyone else. Hand out the chocolates, Penelope, and we’ll have ourselves some satisfied guests.”

“I don’t live here, old man,” Penelope says, raising an eyebrow but getting up from her seat cuddled against Emily and JJ anyway.

“Hey, you answered the door to pretty much everyone today; you’re co-hosting.”

“Can’t argue with that, Penelope,” Emily says drily, looking on amusedly as she huffs but hands out the chocolates anyway.

Derek discreetly pops two painkillers out in his pocket and hands it to Spencer, who swallows them down with a sip of his non-alcoholic wine, relaxing as they start to take effect. They all chat leisurely for a while, enjoying each other’s company in a non-pressured environment where they’re not surrounded by high profile cases and serial killers.

Eventually, though, Spencer starts to fall asleep on his chest, clearly feeling relaxed enough in the warm room, pressed up against his boyfriend and surrounded by the reassuring conversation of people he trusts. As soon as Derek notices, though, he knows it’s time to get him home and into bed before any true crisis of pain or fatigue takes place.

“I think we’ll need to get going, guys,” he says quietly, drawing everyone’s attention to Spencer’s dozing form. He watches as their faces soften and conversation quietens, everyone clearly enamoured with his boyfriend. It occurs to him that he feels no jealousy, only pride that he gets to call this wonderful man his, that he’ll be going home with him tonight, tucking him into bed and cuddling him until he falls asleep.

He shakes Spencer gently, and the others start to get up, tidying or just moving through to the kitchen so as not to embarrass him when he opens his eyes. “Sorry,” he murmurs sleepily, as he looks up at Derek. “I’m tired.”

“I know, baby,” he says softly, feeling so fond his heart could burst. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”

Everyone’s sad to see him go, gathering at the front door to say their goodbyes.

“You are invited to every BAU event from hereon in,” Penelope asserts confidently as she leans down for a gentle hug. She whispers, “you’re better company than Derek, anyway.”

“I heard that, Mama,” he says, poking her in the side.

“You were meant to,” she says, sending him a pointed look, before dropping the act and wrapping him in a hug as the others say goodbye to Spencer.

“It was so nice to finally meet you, Spencer,” Hotch says warmly. “Derek had better not keep us from seeing anymore of you.”

“I’m not sure I could possibly get away with that anymore,” he sighs. “Guess I’ll have to share my baby with you assholes.”

Spencer rolls his eyes at that, stifling a yawn. “Come on, caveman,” he says, rolling his eyes again. “I need to get home.”

“Anything for you, my highness,” he chuckles, before lifting his chin with his knuckle and bending down to kiss him briefly.

“Bye, lovebirds,” Emily calls as they make their way to their car.

“Drive safely,” JJ shouts, which makes Derek laugh fondly. He does love his team.

“See you on Monday,” he calls back as he helps Spencer into the passenger seat. They drive home in the comforting darkness of night, illuminated by the car and street lights of the city, and satisfaction pools in his stomach as he reflects on such a perfect evening as Spencer falls asleep against the passenger window. It really couldn’t have gone any better, and the relief he feels is staggering: the two most important facets of his life finally integrated after far too long.

While his whole life feels like it’s finally falling into place, all that really matters is that the man who is his entire world is happy, a small smile on his sleeping face as the shadows of the city brush their way over his cheekbones. He has to force his eyes back to the road, but he can’t resist the hand he slips into Spencer’s, or the smile that lights up his face as even in his sleep, Spencer’s fingers curl themselves around his.

Spencer's symptoms in this fic could fit any number of neurological conditions, but his unnamed condition was modelled on my own experience with fibromyalgia. I have a rather severe case, as would Spencer if he was diagnosed with this illness. The symptoms could also fit these conditions in one way or another: Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (M.E.), Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS), Lupus, Rheumatoid Arthritis or Axial Spondyloarthritis, as well as others I'm sure I'm forgetting.

Everything about Spencer’s disability is true to the chronically ill/disabled experience as I know it, and to learn more please visit the end notes on AO3 where I explain in a little more detail some of the features of Spencer’s symptoms and condition.

<333

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @hotchgans @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith

#my writing #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds writing #moreid #derek morgan/spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #moreid fic #moreid fluff #moreid au #criminal minds au #disabled spencer reid

169 notes · View notes

moral-turpitudes · 3 years

Text

To the Moon:

A/N: Totes cried while writing this but it’s fine.

Trigger Warnings: Angst, Descriptions of Character Death, Drinking, Pregnancy, Cancer, Fluff, Grief, etc.

Word Count: 4,225

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader x Anna Shelby (OC?/Daughter)

Request: “Hi this is my first request and it’s an angsty Tommy x Reader where the reader is an old flame and they didn’t work out but Thomas still loves the reader anyway, and she sends him a letter out of the blue. Apparently the reader got pregnant and had a kid but she’s really sick now and doesn’t want her kid in an orphanage. It could end in fluff but doesn’t have to.”

Requested by: @wierdestmoppet

A/N: Get ready for some sad shit. I saw the request and this is what my mind jumped to lol. I wrote this to be set like around Season 1-ish btw.

Summary: Life and death have a way of revealing the truth within us, and it can cause things to happen at the most unexpected times. This is especially true for Thomas Shelby as he realizes not even he can stop death.

Part 1 | Part 2

“Dear Thomas,

How are you? It’s been a long while and I hope you and your family are doing okay. I know this may be out of the blue, but you know I’ve never been much for planning things. You also know that I prefer getting straight to the point, so disregard any smudged writing in advance. I’m trying to keep the tears at bay while writing this, but I figured I’d burn any bridges while I still can.

I know we parted in anger but I’d love to know if you’d forgive me for how I acted. When I left during the months after you had gotten back from France, every fiber in my being wanted to stay there with you, but I couldn’t. I had no one besides you and your family and it made me feel worse, like a burden. I was so scared you’d send me away if I told you then...so I made that decision for you and I know it destroyed you.

I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for that, and now of all times I’m sitting here wishing I could be back there in that dirt-covered town, walking by the cut with you just like old times...but I can’t, not in this life anyway.

It saddens me greatly to know I’ll never see your face again, but for the sake of time I’ll be blunt. A couple weeks after I left, call it karma if you will, I fell more ill and went to the doctor. When I left, my suspicions were confirmed. I was pregnant.

I fought the urge to call you though and I regret that to this day, but I’m writing this now to hopefully make up for it.

I had not been with anyone else the whole time you were deployed. But if you can think back, you’ll remember our time at the Garrison and how you’d brought me home. That night stuck with me for nine months, Thomas. I had a beautiful baby girl who I named Anna. And the best part is that she has your eyes.

With all that said, I know this is a lot to take in, but I have one dying wish. You see, I’ve been diagnosed with cancer and the doctors said I have only days left to live. I’m...I’m trying so hard not to cry because I don’t want to wake the poor girl, but I can’t go on much longer and she deserves a good life...One that I can’t give her. I’d love for her to not have to go to the orphanage, as it would break my heart. So I’m asking you to do probably one of the hardest things you’ve had to do in some time, my love. I’m asking if you’d be willing to take in our Anna?

I’ve always wanted her to meet her father, and I wanted to wait until she got older to do so...but it seems life had a way of throwing off those plans as you can see.

I just wanted to let you know in case a lovely little one year old shows up at the shop soon. I’ve sent my friend here in London to take her to you after I pass. I know you may not love me anymore Tom, but I hope that whatever love is still in your heart, you can give that to our daughter. And that you can also find a place in your heart for forgiveness, I know I have.

I’m not expecting anything else, but I truly wish you the best in life, both for you and the family. I’ll think of Anna and you when I sleep tonight. That’s about as close to being in heaven as I can think of.

With all my love,

Y/N Y/L/N”

Thomas set down the letter, hands shaking as he slid his finger over the dried ink that was smudged in various spots by her tears.

He sat there with his head in his hands, tears silently falling from his eyes as the memories came flooding back.

He had just gotten the business in line, and had a good thing going with his family. Even securing a legal betting license, but just as he’d known all his life, he couldn’t get his hopes up when it came to love. Every woman he’d ever loved seemed to have an expiration date, and this one tore him to the core.

As he sat there, the rain pattered on the windows of his office at the shop. The sound only fueling the rage inside him as he came to terms with the letter.

He had thought she’d moved because she found someone new or thought she’d gone off to find a job somewhere perhaps. But he didn’t expect this. After all, he still loved her. He was never good at showing it but he truly did love her and now she was being ripped from him without even getting to say goodbye.

He took a shot from his glass at his desk and threw it in frustration, shards exploding on the ground like tiny specs of glitter.

As he watched the shards shimmer in the dim light, he remembered the fancy envelope. Frantically picking it up and seeing a small picture hanging out of the corner that he must’ve missed before.

It was of Y/N holding Anna. Y/N had a weakened look to her as she sat on the steps of her apartment in a light green dress. It was her favorite color after all, and he knew that.

She had the brightest smile despite her frail state as well and it instantly caused him to smile too. When his eyes landed on his daughter it only grew and he felt his throat tighten as he cleared his throat, trying to keep his emotions at bay.

She indeed had his striking blue eyes though, and the beautiful color of her mother’s hair. With tears threatening to fall, he noticed she had her smile too, thanking whatever gods above that she didn’t get his toothy grin.

As he admired the picture, he remembered seeing the date and a phone number scribbled on the letter, her handwriting noticeably declining compared to when she used to write him long ago during the war.

Without a second thought, he called her number hoping she’d answer. His heart stopping for a moment as he heard static on the other end before it picked up, a faint voice saying “Y/L/N Residence.” in response.

“H-Hello, I’m sorry it’s late but this is Thomas Shelby. Is Y/N there?” He asked, his voice trembling as he wiped tears from his eyes.

“I never thought you’d call...” She said.

“You sound...different.” He said.

Y/N laughed, and he swore he could feel his heart pound at the faint sound of it.

“Death does that to ya.” She said, making light of the situation.

“Y/N...I-I got your letter. I know we don’t have much time...but I love you. I do. I-I love you so fucking much okay?” He said frantically, sitting down at his desk.

“I’m not dead yet.” She lightly chuckled.

“I know...just wanted to let you know I do love you, and that I forgive you. For everything.” He said quietly.

“I thought you’d moved on Tom...But I love to you too. I’m so sorry I’ve put you through this...” she said, breathing heavily.

“Don’t you worry sweetheart. You’ve done nothing wrong. I-uhm...I haven’t moved on. I could never move on from you, Y/N...” He said, her name on his tongue like a spark. He hadn’t said her name so often in ages.

“Did you get the picture?” She asked.

“Yes. You’re beautiful. Anna is too. Beautiful just like her mother.” He said, holding the picture in his hand.

“I was so excited when she opened her eyes. I’m so glad she has yours.” She said, her voice fading a bit as she reminisced.

“And I’m glad she has your smile my love. Can’t have her running around with a smile like mine aye?” He joked.

“Oh stop.” She chuckled.

He laughed lightly as she continued, her breathing audible over the phone.

“I’m happy the letter got to you when it did. I was trying to hold out for you both.” She said, her voice thickening as tears welled up in her eyes.

“I’m happy it did too. You’re the strongest woman I know. You know that right?” He said, wiping his own tears from his eyes as he heard her crying.

“I want our Anna to grow up strong too. Have you considered my offer?” She asked.

Thomas hesitated, his hands were shaking more than they had when first reading the letter.

“Yes. I-I don’t have a nursery yet, but I’ll be able to get things sorted in no time, alright love?” He said.

Y/N sighed with relief. “Good...you don’t know how happy that makes me. I’m...I’m holding her little hand right now. She’s got a firm grip just like her daddy.” She said, sniffling.

“Good. She can rough house with Finn when she’s older.” He said.

“Just...protect her Tommy. She’s so sweet. I love her so much...” She said, her voice weakening.

“I love you, to the moon and back you hear me? Is the nurse with you?” He asked, noticing her voice changing.

“Y-yes. My friend is too. Told her to bring Anna as soon as I go. I-I’m so scared Tom...” She said, her voice cracking as she cried.

“And I love you to the moon and back too sweetheart. I just wish I could have you here with me.” She continued.

“I know you’re scared Y/N. Just hold Anna’s little hand and listen to my voice...okay? Everything will be alright. I-I promise.” He said, his own voice cracking as more tears ran down his face.

“I’ll always protect our daughter. And I’ll tell her how much you meant to me and how much you loved her. I’ll always love you. Always, to the moon and back aye?” He said.

Her breath shallowed as she answered, the last of her strength fading as she spoke.

“I love you both. To the moon...and back.” She said, taking a final breath before her eyes closed and her body went slack, including the finger that her daughter was clutching onto while lying beside her in bed.

The line was silent as Tommy listened. His heart nearly broke when he heard Anna’s cries, and her friend and the nurse sniffling as they helped around the room.

“M-Mr. Shelby? This is the nurse. I know this is hard...but would you like her ashes or would you prefer her to have a traditional burial? She never got the chance to specify.”

He wiped his tears on his sleeve and looked out the window as the rain fell, the moon shining brightly as he gazed up.

“Traditional burial. She needs to be where she’s loved. My family will be in touch as soon as we can.” He said.

“Alright. We recommend doing it soon, tomorrow perhaps. Her friend just left with Anna and will be by your shop in the morning.” She said.

“Uhm...yeah tomorrow is fine. Bring Y/N to the fields and we’ll take care of the rest. I’ll be here at the shop when Anna gets here.” He said, his mind feeling like it was about to explode.

“Alright. I will see you tomorrow Mr. Shelby.” She said.

“Alright.” He whispered before hanging up the phone.

He frantically strode over to his whiskey stash, downing a good portion of it before he ran to the shops bathroom. The mixture of suddenly ingesting all that alcohol and his frazzled nerves taking its toll.

When he composed himself, he freshened up as best he could and splashed cold water over his face, trying to wash the memories and the rush of the alcohol away.

As he made his way back to his office, he thought to call everyone. Even if they were sleeping, this was the one time he truly needed everyone in the family.

“Polly? It’s me. I’m going to need uhm...a crib...and a funeral lined up in the fields. Can you bring the crib here to the shop? I-I guess I’ll need anything baby related.” He stammered.

“Holy mother...slow down please! What are you talking about?!” She asked tiredly through the phone.

“It’s Y/N...yes...her....she left me because she was pregnant and she had the baby and she’s mine. Her name is Anna and she’ll be here in the morning. Y/N she uhm...she died. I just talked to her as she passed alright? She ended up having fucking cancer. She wrote to me and...and it was her dying wish that I take care of Anna for her. I need everyone here. This is the one thing I can’t do alone, Poll.” He said frantically.

Polly stayed silent as she processed what was said, he could hear her sniffling as she spoke.

“Christ have mercy....I’ll call everyone in. You try to get some sleep even if you’re lying on the shop floors. You can’t take care of your daughter drunk like that. I can hear it in your voice.” She said before hanging up.

Polly quickly got ready, waking up little Finn and sadly explaining to him what happened. Together they gathered an old crib from when Ada stayed over with Karl a couple nights, and she found some baby food and diapers.

Next on her list was to call Ada as she had more things at the ready, and she and the rest of the blinders were just as shocked as the news rolled in.

2 hours had passed and Tommy had forced himself to lie down with his coat draped over him on his office floor. The half empty bottle of whiskey smashed to pieces from when he’d gotten off the phone with Polly.

His eyes were blood shot and moving rapidly under his closed eyelids, dreams of coming to save Y/N from the inevitable somehow threatening his mind as he watched her disappear like a ghost. His eyes flew open though as he heard the shop doors close. His tragic slumber interrupted further by numerous heavy boots on the floor.

He sat up slowly, trying to smooth out his hair and putting his coat on as the draft from the cool night air crept in through the creaky floors and window sills.

He sat there on the floor, not having the strength to get up as Polly and the rest of his blinder brothers came into the dark room.

“Tommy...Polly told us what’s happened. I’m so sorry...” Ada said, holding a large bag of everything baby related that she could find. Little Finn held a small crib and Polly had a blanket in her arms as well as a small bag of food.

“Everything was fine a couple hours ago, I was just ‘bout to go home then I saw the letter on my desk...” He said, wishing selfishly that he could turn back time.

“Look mate...we have your back. Just tell us what ya need done and we’ll do it. It’s a family meeting after all.” John said, nervously biting the toothpick in his mouth.

“I...I spoke with the nurse. She said they recommend having the funeral tomorrow. We’re having it in the field like we usually do. It’s what she would’ve wanted probably. I couldn’t let them burn her and stuff her in some urn. She deserves better. God damn it...” He said putting his head in his hands. He’d always been the one in control. He’d always had a solid plan, a solid mode of attack, but this was something he had no control over. Just as much as life had control over death. It was all out of his hands.

“I’ll go get Johnny Dogs and the Lee’s help with all that, you stay here Tom.” John said, kissing Esme goodbye as he went out into the night.

“Oi, brother do you want me to go with him? I promise I won’t do anything this time.” Arthur said, crouching down by his brother and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t care, as long as Anna gets here safely and as long as Y/N can have a decent place to be buried in. That’s all I’m on about now. Fuck the rivalries, for one day.” He said. It wasn’t like him to stop condoning a lot of violence, but perhaps this made him have a change of heart.

He glanced at the photo she sent him, his eyes glossing over as he held it in his shaking hands.

“She has my eyes.” He said, his own filling with tears that not many of his family had seen in so long.

“She’s beautiful.” Polly said, sitting by him on the floor. Little Finn helped set the crib down and Esme and Ada helped clean up the mess Tommy had made.

“She is...” he said.

Around 4 hours later, John and some of the Lee’s returned and told them they’d gotten everything set up and Tommy had met with the nurse. She was dressed in a black dress and a black coat, and holding a silver necklace with a light green stone in it. It was Y/N’s that Tommy had given her before he went off to war.

“She wanted you to keep this, to give to Anna...she thought maybe as an 18th birthday gift would be nice...” She said, wiping a tear from her eye.

“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.” He said, putting the necklace in his jacket, clasping the button on the small pocket so it was secure.

As the night blurred into the morning, Polly and Esme napped in the chairs as Tommy rested his head at his desk. Finn and the rest all finding places to doze off to in various corners of the shop.

As much as Thomas hated everyone sleeping uncomfortably, he knew it was good they were here. He needed the support whether his pride liked it or not.

It was around 6 am when the nurse arrived again, letting him know Y/N’s funeral things were all set up. And it wasn’t long after that a small car pulled up. A woman with blonde hair and a black dress getting out quickly as she reached for the little girl.

Her faint cries were heard as Thomas watched from the doorway, alert and ready to do what he had to do for the coming days, and eventually years.

“Hello Mr. Shelby. My name is Jess. I was a good friend of Y/N’s. Here’s your daughter. I hope she’ll be a comfort to you.” She said quickly as she handed her to him.

He nervously cradled her into his arm as she squirmed in defiance at first. The new person holding her making her only want her mother more.

“Hey...hey...shhh. It’s alright love. It’s okay. Daddy’s here. It’s okay.” He cooed, carefully swaying a bit as he held her. As she adjusted to her new surroundings, she gradually stopped crying, her bright blue eyes opening and landing on her fathers face. Tears were coating her cheeks as she looked up at him in silence, curiously as she took in the man holding her.

“It’s okay. I promise.” He said, gently wiping her tears as he carried her inside.

Polly and the girls gasped quietly so as not to startle her too much. But she cried nonetheless, the new people overwhelming her. Tommy cooed again and gave her his finger to hold, helping her out of her crying fit.

“You’re a natural Tommy. Must’ve been all the babysitting when we were little.” Ada said, as she watched her niece slowly stop crying.

“I can only hope so.” He said, looking down at his little girl. John and Arthur and the others came near as quietly as they could, watching as she had a death grip on Tommy’s finger.

“She’s a strong little bugger. Finn you’ll have to show her the ropes ya know.” Arthur said, Finn looked on curiously at his new niece and nodded.

“Not till she’s older. We have to protect her alright, Y/N will strike me down if we don’t.” Tommy said, smiling a bit as he wondered where her soul was now.

“How about we let you be? We’ve set everything up in your office, so it should suffice until later today when you can take her home. The funeral is at noon. So everyone get home and get ready and meet at the field.” Polly said, before patting Thomas’ shoulder. He was in shock at the nights events, but his daughter luckily helped him from spiraling too far down.

The hours leading up to the funeral were spent trying to feed and change her and having Polly come back early to show him the ropes. Anna was dressed in a small black dress and wrapped in the soft blanket Polly had brought, her cries echoing throughout the shop as everyone gathered their things.

“She’s gonna be a little hell-raiser, I already know.” Polly said.

“Good. Maybe she can take over this place someday aye?” Tommy said, placing his cap on as Polly nestled her into the car with her.

“If she wants to that is.” Polly said, closing the door and looking at the little bundle. Tommy started the car and drove off towards the fields, the bonfire sending smoke into the air upon their arrival.

Tommy stopped the car and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he sat there.

“Are you alright? We can take a minute if you need it Tom.” Polly asked, putting her hand in his shoulder.

He wiped a stray tear from his eye and ran a hand over his face before looking back at his little girl. Her eyes wandering over him as he sat there.

“No. I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine, we just have to say goodbye that’s all.” He said, getting out of the car and gently picking up Anna.

She protested at first, her eyes welling up with tears as she looked around, but they stopped once she saw her fathers face. He was grinning slightly at her and stroking her hair, trying to make sure she was alright.

“She’s okay. She’s probably bloody overwhelmed, poor thing. It’ll be like that for a while, but you can do this Thomas.” Polly said, walking towards the field.

“We can do this right Anna? We have to say bye to mummy alright? It’ll be okay my love.” He said, her cries stopping as he walked with her in his arms and towards the wagon and the bonfire.

The smoke invaded everyone’s lungs as the flames grew around the wagon. Everyone who knew her back when they dated coming together to say some nice words or to offer up small prayers.

Tommy couldn’t say anything, fearing he’d break down, but he stood there holding their daughter, throwing a rose towards the flames and silently thinking of her. Hoping she’d watch over them while she was up there.

As the ceremony ended, he wiped a stray tear away and carried the little girl around the remains of the fire, trying to think of a plan for their new life.

Anna mumbled as he sat with her on a nearby log, giving her rose petals to play with from one of the leftover bouquets.

“Those were your mums favorite.” He said, hearing her mumbling in baby babble.

“M-mama.” She said lightly, looking out at the fire. Thomas felt his throat closing as she said it, wishing nothing more than to bring her back.

“Yes love...Mama is gone but dads got ya now love. She loved you so much...” He said, tear running down his cheek as he kissed the top of her head. She looked up at him as he held her on his lap, still gripping his hand like a security blanket and smiling like Y/N.

Over the next couple months they both grew used to each other’s company. She was babbling more and not crying as much, but she could always sense something was missing. Thomas was home more now than he’d ever been, always keeping an eye on her and taking her to the shop when he’d go to work. Everyone loved her though, as they all took turns watching the little girl.

“She’s doing so well. I know Y/N would be proud, Tommy.” Ada said, patting his shoulder as he stood at the window, looking at the night sky.

“She would aye? I’m seeing more of Y/N in her each day. Only a matter of time before she takes Finn out though.” Tommy said smirking.

“I can’t wait to see that.” Ada said, slowly walking away to do her paperwork.

Tommy walked in his office to see Finn playing with her, giving her random toys as she sat up in a chair, and watching her throw them to the side as soon as she saw her father.

She smiled her little smile and threw her hands up towards him as he walked to her, crouching down and scooping her up as she giggled.

In the silence between them he’d often look up after the long day and see the moon, hoping Y/N would be looking back at them from up there, and he’d whisper to himself that they were alright, hoping in some way she’d know they were.

Tag List:

(If you’d like to be added/removed just shoot me an ask!) :)

@msbzowy, @nofckingfighting, @aranoburns, @sighonahurricane, @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes, @gaytommyshelby, @wowjeena, @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby, @inglourious-imagines, @thebloodyshelbys, @tsolomons, @blinder-secrets, @reveparade, @shelby-fanatic, @ta-ka-shi-ma, @psychkunox, @peakyxtommy, @captivatedbycillianmurphy,@dreamwastakenx, @lovemissyhoneybee @thomashelbyswhore

#wierdestmoppet #katiesrequests #katiesfics #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders fanfic #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x female!reader #thomas shelby x y/n #katieswiplist

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twistedlymad · 4 years

Note

UwU Your writing is amazing !!!!! I loved the puppy and cat escapades \ ^o^ / . Would you be willing to do one in wich the mc is bullied by the extras, because you know, no magic and already a director, how would the boys react?? Will this be the end of the extras?!?? Ill be eternally gratefull. iTs okay if you cant throug. Hope you have a wonderfull day, and dont forget to drink plenty of water, and take breakes. Take care of yourself!!!!

Originally, I had planned this to be another chaos fic, but, I realize while writing this, that bullying is something that cannot be taken lightly. In the Twst Fandom, we also had our fair share of bullying from a few anons and that isn’t okay.

So, in writing this fic, I made it more sentimental and just so you guys know, if you’re having a bad day or a bad time in general, feel free to talk to anyone, including me! Do not ever hold in your sadness.

But anyway, I hope this fic lives up to your expectations anon! Thank you for requesting and have a lovely day!

What if you got bullied? (Ft. Everyone!!)

What was supposed to be a great day, turned out to be the worst day you could ever have at Night Raven College.

Your day started off normally, in fact, it started off well! You woke up with a good mood. You saw the furball that you loved so much beside you, sleeping peacefully. You smiled as you gently shook him awake.

“Grim, wake up, it’s already morning.”

“Fgnaaaaa, five… more minutes…” The sleeping creature said, swatting your hand away. You just shook your head at his antics.

“No can do, remember what Crowley would do if he caught us being late again.” You said and the creature’s eyes immediately shot opened and he jumped out of the bed, scurrying about to get ready for the day. You saw his slightly panicking self and giggled to yourself.

“(Y/N)! We shouldn’t be dancing and prancing! If we do, we’re going to be late!” Said the creature as he saw you heading over to your closet in a small waltz.

“Oh, Grim, I woke you up 10 minutes earlier than usual.” You said as you grabbed your uniform and headed to the bathroom. “You have 10 minutes to spare, take your time.” And you left the mumbling little furball in the room, face planting himself back into the bed after hearing your words.

The first half of your day had gone by rather quick and uneventful, not that you were complaining though. It’s nice to not have fights and chaos to settle every once in a while. You had a lot of laughs and smiles here and there with your group of first-year goofballs.

However, your peaceful day was about to turn upside down.

You were walking back to your classroom. Your friends were reserving your spot in Professor Trein’s class while you went to Crowley’s office to take care of some business involving Ramshackle Dorm. You and Grim made your way down the hall to the class.

Some students saw this and thought it was a great opportunity to make you trip and fall. So, one of them stuck out his leg while you were making you were walking. You didn’t have enough time to react and ended up falling for their antics. You immediately turned your body around so Grim, who was in your hands, would be shielded using your body. Your back hit the ground, HARD. A few gasps here and there were heard.

Grim rose his head from your chest to see you using your elbow to prompt yourself up.

“Fgnaaa! (Y/N)!” The furball immediately went to help you up by providing some support.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t see you there.” The student who tripped you said as his friends were laughing.

“School rules say that no magic or fights are allowed on school grounds.” His friends snickered.

“I’m fine… Just… Let me get up.” You said to Grim, who was still helping you.

“Pffft, look at her, so defenseless, she shouldn’t even be at this school!” The student said harshly.

“Hello?! Night Raven College is a place for prestigious mages. Not humans who can’t use magic and defend themselves.” Another student said to you.

“And to think she’s a prefect! Hahahahaha! You couldn’t even compare to the other dorm leaders!” His friend added and they all agreed.

“Looks like Crowley had made a huge mistake in bringing you here, why don’t you just crawl back to that sad excuse for a dorm of yours alongside your lousy furball!” And the group of students cackled at their snarky comments about you.

You just drooped your head down. Even though you didn’t want to admit it, but, they were right.

You had no magic, you were ridiculed at the entrance ceremony but, Crowley still gave you a place to stay and he even made you an official student here. While others struggled in getting here, you sort of knew why they hated you.

You tried your best to hold in your tears as you felt them pricking at the corner of your eyes while your friends defended you.

But, one comment had pushed past your boundaries.

“You’re not even considered to be human in my eyes! To me, you’re just trash. Go find a trash can and make yourself at home!”

Was… Was this what the other students really thought about you? Trash? Useless? No value? You closed your eyes, taking everything in, ignoring everything and everyone else around you. And proceeded to walk away without saying a single word.

Grim shouted for you but you payed no attention to him and just kept speed walking. Your walking slowly became running and you were then running as fast as you could, just letting your legs lead the way. After awhile of running at full speed, you had slowed down and stopped to take a breather. You looked around to see where you were in order for you to get back to school if needed.

However, you were back at Ramshackle Dorm. Your dorm. The tears you had been holding back flowed out as you took slow steps to the dorm you loved. You went in and closed the door behind you. Leaning your back against the door, you cried out your heart as you slowly slid down.

All the student’s words are stuck in your head, reminding you of what everyone else thinks of you. Your tears just kept flowing as you used your sleeves to wipe them away.

‘They’re right, I’m not meant to be here in the first place.’ You thought to yourself. ‘If everyone hates me so, then, I should just disappear.’ You said in your mind as you stood up and went to your room.

You packed some clothing and madol, ready to leave and hopefully start a new life outside of Night Raven College. You stuffed everything into a duffel bag and went to the main entrance of your dorm. You placed your hand on the doorknob, thinking of a route to leave the school undetected. But when you opened the door…

You were faced with everyone you ever knew.

And I mean everyone! Your group of best friends, the dorm-leaders and your seniors. They were all gathered in front of your dorm.

“Ahh! (Y/N)!! I’m so glad we found you!” Ace said as he, Deuce, Epel, Jack, Sebek and Grim came to hug you. You were surprised, too shocked to even register what had happened.

“We heard about the incident today, we already reported it to the headmaster.” Riddle said.

“But the first-years also reported that you were nowhere to be found. So, we came looking for you and your dorm was the only place we haven’t checked.” Azul continued.

“So, we all gathered here after our search!” Kalim concluded. The first-year boys pulled away from their hug and they noticed your bag.

“(Y/N)? What’s going on? Why are you leaving?” Epel asked you. Your eyes slowly travelled to the bag.

“Um…” You started but Deuce cut you off.

“Is it because of those damned students?” Deuce asked you. “Did they threaten you?”

Now, everyone’s eyes were on you. You averted their stares by lowering your head.

“No…” You said, dropping the duffel bag.

“They didn’t threaten me. But, what they said was true, was it not?” You lifted your head to let everyone see your tear-filled eyes. “I am just a human, I don’t possess any magic powers and yet here I am in this school for magicians. Not only that, but I am also the dorm leader for this dorm and I have been made a prefect! Isn’t that unfair to everyone else?” You said out loud, letting everyone hear you.

“I understand why they would have these kinds of thoughts. I understand why they hate me. That’s why I thought that if I have left, no one would have these kinds of thoughts ever again. After, I am the problem, aren’t I?” You concluded.

Truth be told, the boys were shocked. They… They have never seen this side of you. Heck, they never thought you would be capable of producing these types of thoughts. In their eyes, you were always so cheerful and kind, even when things got out of hand, you would remain calm and solve the problem to the best of your abilities. To think someone this pure and precious to them would have such depressing and degrading thoughts is beyond them.

However, this shocked Grim the most. The creature practically lived with you for so long and he didn’t even have a single clue of this side of you was scaring him.

“No, you’re wrong.” Grim lowly mumbled, but you couldn’t hear him.

“What?” You asked the furball.

“YOU’RE WRONG!” He practically screamed at you.

“Grim-chan…” Cater said softly.

“Even if you did leave, their thoughts won’t change! You’re not the problem! It’s them!” The furball yelled to you. Everyone was taken aback by Grim’s sudden outburst. But the first-years were quick to back him up.

“That’s right! It’s not your fault (Y/N)!” Ace said to you.

“Students at NRC are picked by the mirror of darkness. No one can easily come and go in this school.” Leona reminded everyone.

“Exactly, you arrived here for a reason.” Rook said.

“You assisted us with our overblots, not every child of man could do that.” Malleus said, representing every dorm leader.

“You had us working together in sync during the Inter-High Magift Tournament.” Ruggie added.

“You brought us together as friends.” Sebek stated.

“Most importantly, you let me have a place here at NRC. Because of you, we were only able to attend the school as a student.” Grim said. “No one has ever done something like that for me before.” The creature said as he slowly crawled up to you.

Everyone’s words had stunned you. You were so busy thinking about the negative comments about you, you forgot about all your relationships with your friends and seniors.

Like, how you always had tea in Heartslabyul. Riddle would always invite you to have tea with him and the others, you would enjoy the peacefulness of the dorm under the supervision of their dorm leader. Trey would always ask for your help in the kitchen and you would have a fun time with him while making sweets and desserts for everyone. Cater would whisk you away to either a selfie-session in the dorm’s gardens or a photoshoot in any new place that the he had found to be photogenic. Ace and Deuce would invite you to play croquet with them from time to time, of course, you were very careful with the flamingos and hedgehogs as you didn’t want to hurt any of them, but, you couldn’t resist in using the flamingo to bonk on either Ace’s or Deuce’s head every once in awhile. It’s okay though, the flamingo understood completely.

Like, how you always trained yourself in Savanaclaw. Leona would sometimes go easy on you if you were invited to join one of their many Magift activities, although, you weren’t sure if he was pitying you or he was just being lazy in general. You would help Ruggie prepare food for everyone as you knew he could use an extra hand or two, it also meant you could pick up a new recipe here and there and you got to taste test all the food. Jogging sessions with Jack were also a normal thing, hey, if you’re going to be joining in Magift tournaments without magic powers, the least you could do is train yourself physically.

Like, how you always felt welcomed at Octavinelle. Azul would welcome you into the VIP lounge when Mostro Lounge was extremely busy and you couldn’t find a place to sit at. You would also help out around Mostro Lounge when you saw that the place was packed to the brim. Usually, Jade would entrust you with drinks while he and Floyd went to prepare food for everyone else. When Mostro Lounge closed its doors for the day, you would enjoy some tea with the three underwater mermen or you and Grim would play around with Floyd, pranking other students and dorm leaders. Heck, you and Floyd even pulled off a few enormous pranks against the staff members.

Like, how you would be invited to feasts and parties at Scarabia. Kalim would always have a big smile on his face whenever he invited you to go dine with him at Scarabia. Jamil always appreciated your help in the dorm, let it be helping him prepare food for the party that Kalim had just decided to have five minutes ago or just keeping an eye on the dorm leader while he went to settle some other business involving the dorm.

Like, how you would have small makeovers at Pomefiore. Every time you walked past the beauty-queen/king, you were immediately stopped by him, because either your bow or tie was crooked or your hair was a mess, well no matter the case, Vil would fix it for you. When you visited Pomefiore from time to time, Vil would take the chance to give you high quality beauty products to try and he would always go on a rant on how you should always take care of your image. Sometimes, Rook would sweep you away just to go on a mini hunt with him. Although, let’s be real here, you two always ended up spying on Leona at the Botanical Gardens while he skipped his classes. Epel would whisk you away to his room and teach you to on how to carve apples. You managed to carve a few of the staff members and even your friends onto the apples, of course, you would carve on a few extra features onto your masterpieces. Like, say, a moustache for Ace or funky-looking ears for Crowley. You also helped to keep Epel in check whenever Vil and Rook were teaching the first-years on table manners and proper etiquette.

Like, how you would enjoy mini-gaming sessions at Ignihyde. Usually, you would initiate the session with Idia. You two ended up playing both Co-Op and PvP games. While playing games that require you to cooperate, the two of you would discuss your plans and pick out the best course of action. The same cannot be said for Free-For-All games though. A few minor insults here and there are thrown between the two of you. But at the end, the victor will always do a little happy dance before continuing onto the next game. You loved Ortho like your own brother! Always treating him to various desserts and helping him drag his brother out from his room. Ortho looks up to you like a sister as well. There may have been a few times he’s actually called you big sis.

Like, how you would go on quaint little walks at Diasomnia. If you needed a breather, you would usually find yourself at Diasomnia. Due to a large forest surrounding the building and the silent atmosphere the dorm provides, it is the exact place where you would go to take a walk to clear your mind. Malleus would sometimes accompany you on these quaint little walks. You and Tsunotaro would chat about your everyday lives and problems the first-years would create. Lilia would make some tea for you after your walks and you would enjoy the tea and bits of biscuits and crumpets alongside the tea. You would also break up arguments between Silver and Sebek. The two would get into fights about the tiniest of things, from blaming each other for losing track of Malleus to blaming each other for not preparing for a test. Sometimes, Silver would accompany you on your walk instead of Malleus and you two would also have little chats here and there. Other than that, Sebek’s view of you actually improved after befriending him. He used to think you were a powerless human as well but after spending time with him and your friends, he realizes that you aren’t just any human being.

But for Grim, you had the greatest impact in his life. You accepted him, you took care of him, you loved him. And he loved you back, just as much. To him, you were his family since he had never had one.

In conclusion, you matter.

You. Are. Of. Value.

You are precious to them, you bring peace to them, you brought them together as a whole.

Once that thought had nested in your brain, you realized that you were foolish in having these thoughts in the first place.

“I’m sorry…” You said, crying. Grim went and hugged you.

“It’s not your fault… Just know that we’re here for you.” Said the furball as everyone also came and comforted you. You had spent the day with them as a whole, you watched a few movies, horror movies in that case. It was fun hearing the dorm leaders and their members scream shout yell made a loud sound whenever a jumpscare appeared.

You guys also played games together, but, I am not allowed to share any details because I actually know nothing. No, I’m totally not being threatened here Reader-san, don’t worry about me.

Send help pls.

Also, after the bullying incident, the boys were a bit more protective around you when in class/school. Usually, your group of first-years would accompany you wherever you go, let it be from your dorm to the cafeteria or from the class to another dorm, at least one of them will be at your side. And when they couldn’t be there, either a dorm leader or an upperclassman would be near you. Any student who seem like they have bad intentions to either you or Grim, would face unspeakable consequences.

And I mean unspeakable. So, I cannot inform you of these consequences as I am under an oath to not reveal anything. Um. Yeah. Good luck persuading the boys to tell you : )

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333dolans · 3 years

Text

If By Chance Pt. 2 // E.D

Part 1

Summary: It’s been 2 years since she’d last seen him, what would happen if by chance they were to meet once more?

Sorry for being gone for so long! Ive been super busy and just haven’t had any time to write. I’ll hopefully post a bit more regularly this year! I love you all mwah!!🥰

4:35pm, Great.

It was the first time she would be seeing Gray in what felt like eternity and she was already late, Classic Rory. In her defence, he had agreed to pick her up but a meeting running over later than expected meant she was left to fend for herself. The fact that she didn’t know her way around LA yet paired along with her general lack of time management left her here, outside of the adorable, little cafe Gray had sent her the address for.

She felt the explosion of butterflies erupt within her stomach at the sight of his car and pulled in next to it. She took a moment to compose her thoughts that seemed to be racing along with her heart. Taking a final deep breath, she climbed out from her car and made a start towards the cafe door.

From the very moment she laid her eyes on his tall figure, nothing could of slowed the pace she ran towards him. She called out his name and as he glanced up from his phone, the widest smile took over his face. Opening up his arms just in time, he caught her in his warm embrace. It felt good to be home.

“I missed you so much.” He sighed contently, spinning her around one more time before placing her body back firmly on the ground.

“Missed you more Grapeson.” She replied with a smirk.

“Wow... that’s gotta be a record, we’ve been together what? One whole minute and you’ve already said it.” He rolled his eyes, coaxing a giggle from Rory.

“I said we were bringing it back my love and i meant it!” She grinned smugly up at him before grabbing his hand and leading them into the coffee shop. As the little bell chimed, they were greeted by an older woman who beamed their way.

“Hello Grayson! Your usual i assume? And what can i get for you sweetheart?” She asked with a warm smile.

“Ill go get us a table, i know the best seats.” Grayson told her before wondering off to a far corner in the store.

“Ill get a hot chocolate please.” She replied graciously with a shy smile and the woman was quick to get started on the order.

“I’m Genevieve by the way but you my dear, can call me Gen! You know Grayson never mentioned he had a girlfriend, you’re absolutely gorgeous.” She began to make small talk as she poured Grayson’s coffee into its cup. Rory choked on air at gen’s words, gaping at her in shock.

“Were- were not together, just good friends.” She said with a deep blush.

“Oh my bad! You two would make a beautiful couple if i might say.”

Rory couldn’t help but smile at Gen’s bluntness, she loved her already. After some more casual conversation, Rory said her thank you to Gen and headed off toward the table Grayson had saved, gently placing their drinks on the tabletop before sliding into the booth seat. These seats in particular looked out onto a beautiful landscape and Rory couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief as she sank lower into the leather of the seat, this day couldn’t have gone any better. Nothing had changed between her and gray and she couldn’t be more thankful.

The two sat and talked for hours as the sun began to set on the city that awaited them just outside of the window. They filled each other in on everything and anything they could think of, from childhood memories to the launch of wakeheart. It was inevitable really, that they would eventually end up on the topic of a certain twin brother. No matter how much Rory had tried to change the subject, he always found a way back into the conversation, she knew shed have to face the music someday anyway, may as well bite the bullet sooner rather than later.

“He misses you, you know? He may be an absolute idiot and too damn stubborn to ever admit it but i know that he does. He still reads through your old messages and looks at old photos. He still checks your socials every now and then, I’ve seen him.”

Rory sighed with a small shake of her head.

“Gray, he dropped me remember? No one told him he had to do that, he got a girlfriend and she became more important. That’s life i guess and I’ve dealt with that knowledge for years now. He prioritised her over me and that’s on him.” She let her gaze drift from his face to the window beside her, now littered with stray raindrops from the light drizzle that had began.

She allowed herself to breathe deeply, basking in the feelings that a crisp fall breeze always managed to stir within her. God, did she love autumn. Nothing could compare to the sight of the leaves changing to colours of fire and passion before her very eyes. Along with the colder weather came rainy days, and with rainy days? Time she could spend huddled up in front of a window reading whatever book she’d chosen for that week. Everyone who has ever known Rory, would know full well she would would be half way through that book within the space of a few hours.

Something about the rain had always enticed her, she felt a strange comfort within the damp weather that left most people feeling miserable. She thrived in it, wanting nothing more than to cozy up in fluffy socks and warm layers of clothes and watch droplets race along the panes of the nearest window.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Slightly startled from his sudden appearance, she beckoned her breathing to calm down to a steady pace once again. She allowed her eyes to trail up his tall frame, soaking him in as much as she could. There stood Ethan in all his glory along with a piping hot mug of her favourite, hot chocolate. Rory was never much of a coffee drinker, always having a sweet tooth and preferring the chocolatey taste to the bitterness a cup of coffee would leave in her mouth for hours. Besides, no one likes coffee breath. She allowed her gaze to retreat back to its fixed spot, staring out into the forest that lined the perimeter of the Dolan’s backyard.

“Then I hate to break it to you E but you’ll be short of quite a few pennies by the time you’ve heard all of the thoughts that are running around my mind right now.”

She allowed a defeated sigh to slip past her lips, filling the silence that had fallen between the two. It was true, her mind had been all over the place ever since the moment the twins had told her of their plan to pursue a career in Los Angeles. She felt like her world was collapsing in on her and in a way, it was. Her whole life as she knew it consisted of Ethan and Grayson Dolan, she had spent practically everyday with the pair for as long as she could remember and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that chapter of her life to be over.

“A hot chocolate instead? Please Rory, talk to me. I know this is going to be a big change for you, but it is for me and Grayson too yeah? Were all going to be feeling the same emotions in the next few weeks, we have to be there for each other and I can’t do that if you wont open up to me.”

Sliding down opposite her small frame on the cold hardwood floor of his childhood home, Ethan couldn’t help but become overwhelmed by his emotions. This had been his home for many years, it contained so many memories. These very walls had been witness to the life of the three best friends and the idea of leaving this part of his life behind, leaving his best friend behind? It tore Ethan to pieces but he was also optimistic for this exciting new chapter. He tried to remain positive and think of the new adventures they will get to have in the city of angels. The memories he can make with the ones he holds closest.

“Everything is changing E. I don’t think I’m ready to move on from this, I don’t want to be left behind again. I’m going to be so alone here, you guys are the only real friends I have. I don’t want to lose you, or Grayson.”

A stray tear made it’s way down her cheek as the rain continued outside. She looked up to meet the eyes of her best friend, the boy she’d always love. His hand reached out for hers and clasped it tightly in his own. She saw a flash of hope flash across his beautiful brown eyes that she adored so much.

“You could come with us you know? There’s a spare room in the apartment and you know I...we would love to have you there with us. We could go on so many adventures and explore California and we could-“

“E, as wonderful as that sounds, you know my mom would never let me just drop everything and go. What about school? College? You know what she expects of me. I really wish it was that simple.”

In that moment, Rory swore she saw a small piece of Ethan’s heart break away before her very eyes. She forced her tears back, choking slightly from the lack of air that seemed to be escaping her lungs. Why did this have to be so hard? Ethan paused for what felt like eternity before speaking once more.

“I’m going to miss you so much my little lion, so fucking much.”

He outstretched his arms, his warm embrace calling her name. She crawled over to him, closing the small gap that was between them. She clung to his torso as he stroked his fingers through her hair soothingly.

“Nothing is going to change between us Rory, absolutely nothing.”

“Why don’t you come back to our place? I’m not ready to say goodbye yet anyway and I know he’d love to see you. Please, just for a little while?” Gray’s words snapped her back from her reminiscing. He looked into her eyes with such hope, she just couldn’t say no to him.

“God damn those puppy eyes” she cursed under her breath, causing a smirk from Grayson who sat opposite her with a triumphant look on his face.

“I better not regret this Dolan.”

Tags: @rhyrhy462 @evergreendolan @dolansficsandpics @fangdolan @livexdolan @blindedbythelightt @baby-grayson @prettyboydolan @delightfuldolan @sosweetgrethan @episkygrant @resilientdolan @pineappledols @vinylhazza @hydrograyson @velvetdolan @baby-turtles @szadolans @cutestdolans @brockdolan @mercurygrant @abstractstardiva @guiltydols @blazedgraysons @blackpinkdolan @vintagedolan @babeygray @babey-gray @dolanpornhub @onlyyyariii @voidmalfoy @glossydols @graysonsdolansbabygirl @spideysimpossiblegirl @lovingdolans @bubsdolan @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @dolansbeanies @graydolan12 @dolantissue @thecharlietomygillespie @dolandolll @boujeeethan @softethan @risedols @evreths @everydaydolan

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solarianvoidthearoace · 3 years

Text

Excerpt#1 from my JuPeter Vampire!AU

CN/TW: Alcohol mention, swearing, blood mention, gun threat, pub ambience (drunk background characters), minor emotional breakdown, Nureyev-typical (I hope, at least) flirting

Sinking deeper onto the table, ignoring his warming beer, Juno didn’t catch the heels drawing closer from his blind side.

“What’s a place like this doing with a wonderful lady like you?”, a soft, melodic voice carried over the chatter and ambience of the tavern. Groaning, Juno rightened himself,

“Place ain’t doing anything. And whatever you’re about to say next, no. No, I can get my own drink; yes, that seat is taken; no, I won’t be lonely tonight. And most of all, yes, you can fuck off.” His eye finally dragged higher than the edge of the table, focusing on a slim man clad in dark maroon, accentuated with the embroidery of roses. Letting his gaze wander higher, Juno froze in his seat.

“Hello Juno”, and promptly the man sat opposite him after all. Sucking in a deep breath, Juno felt his back go rigid,

“From the get-up I take it it’s Rose.” The man gave a short laugh, almost painfully stilted, and waved him off,

“Oh no, goodness no, I’m well known in this town. I just happen to be just back from a business trip. I mean, sure, I don’t go by the name of my grandfather, it’s Ransom for me, but asking around for me would actually get you somewhere in this particular town.“ Juno’s eyes narrowed,

“And why would that be? Last I remember you weren’t exactly an involved member of society.” Ransom waved the question away,

“I will be around to answer those questions you like to puzzle out so much. Atop the closest hill is the Nureyev estate and manor, after all. The more interesting, and I figure time-sensitive, question would be… what are you doing here, detective?” Juno tried not to get hung up on the casual use of the man’s birth name he had seemed so secretive about.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I said I was recuperating after a long job gone sour, would you?”, Ransom just tilted his head, in an almost bored gesture if Juno hadn’t known him.

“Right… It’s true, though”, Juno sighed and focused on the warm stale beer in his stein,

“I’m waiting for a pay-out and the way I know the Registry there might be one last job attached, so I didn’t want to get too comfortable in any area just yet. It’s not like I can go back to Hyperion. Rita, you remember her, is with me as well.” Ransom tilted his head the other way, resting it on his palm,

“So you finally did uproot yourself. Well, I don’t think it’s any difference to you but there isn’t any use hiding it either, this is the town I had been talking about back when we… when we were”, he simply finished. Juno raised a brow, he might have to pay more attention to this town Rita and he were staying in during daylight.

“What sort of job do you think you’ll have to do to bail yourself out for good?” Apparently the silence at their table had gone on too long for Ransom’s taste.

“Depends on whether this area is prone to vampires, if you remember my actual profession.” Ransom tensed under his utter boredom, short enough most people would have missed it. Most, except for Juno Steel.

“Yea, I know, the entire time you dragged me along fighting off that witch Miasma, not a single vampire. I’m well aware I must seem rather lousy.”

Before Ransom could answer, the upcoming praise of Juno’s professional skills already readable on his face, a crash resounded from the bar.

Some drunkard apparently hadn’t just crashed his almost-empty stein, attempting to swap it with some other patron’s, he also managed to drag his arm through the shards and add his blood to the seeping puddle of beer. The bar-dame and apparently owner of the place seemed ready to swear up a storm, which made Juno tense. Still, his suddenly drawn-up shoulders were nothing compared to Ransom.

The man went rigid, his jaws clenched and his hands cramped around the edge of the table. When he opened his eyes after a deep breath, prying his fingers from the wooden tabletop, Juno caught a glimpse of his pupils being dilated.

His inquiry whether Ransom felt okay didn’t make it past his lips before the man had abandoned the table and shoved his way to the back-entrance. Even more confused than he was to see Ransom in this town in the first place, Juno slowly got up and went to pay his tab.

Whatever was up with his former… his past… with Ransom, Juno decided to leave the tavern out the front and round its outside, wandering casually to the alleyway where the back-entrance lead.

What he saw there made him grasp for his holster, as well as the stake he usually would have carried strapped to his thigh. While his left hand came up empty, he did manage to aim his revolver at the silhouette. The silhouette that was hunched slightly, in the shifting shadows of the alleyway, grasping at something small. Whatever it was, the figure stood cradling it with something vicious dripping from their face.

Sending up a quick prayer to whoever listened, that today may be a day his aim wasn’t as shot as it still was on some days, Juno steadied his revolver with his left. Having been a vampire hunter as long as he was, Juno could distinguish the way blood flowed and dripped even in twilight conditions.

“Don’t move!”, he clicked the safety off his revolver now that he had the thing’s attention,

“Hands up! Slowly!” The figure complied, raising their hands and showing off what they were holding. A flask glinted in the sparse light. Or maybe it was small enough to count as a vial. Calming down that they weren’t armed beyond their obvious nature, Juno scanned the rest of the alleyway. The two of them were alone, no body laying nearby either. Taking that in, Juno remembered himself. Why he was standing in this alleyway in the first place.

“He said he’s known well enough around here, didn’t he?”, he muttered to himself, not that he had any illusion it would pass by the predator’s hearing. Then, louder, directed at them again,

“Where is Ransom? He left out that backdoor!”

“So you sneaking in and out of doors is fine but woe is me when someone else leaves you behind?”, the figure laughed so mirthlessly it send chills through Juno.

“That’s not… He looked ill, sick somehow. And while I know he can fend for himself he never believed me about your kind. I’m not taking chances, letting a vampire go when they might have attacked a friend of mine.” The silhouette perked up at that,

“Friend of yours? Were the two of you friendly, recently?”, a teasing lilt replacing that mirthlessness.

“Whatever”, Juno snapped,

“He’s sick, you’re dangerous, I’m armed. Should be all that matters.” The figure shrugged, their hands still over their head,

“Have it your way. Silver bullets, I take it? You do know a crossbow is more versatile in regards to ammunition a hunter might need?”, they sounded as if they were trying for smalltalk. Except their voice was pressed, somehow, as if they were altering their cadence, practiced but forcefully disguising their voice.

“What’s it to you?”, Juno stepped towards them. Just a precaution, he told himself, in case his aim might falter for real. Curiously enough, they copied the length of his gait and stepped away. Before Juno could do more than huff, they spoke up,

“If we are to continue this little chat, may I ask that I be allowed to wipe my face? I’m sure you can see I happened to spill some of my nutrition.”

Juno faltered, his revolver sinking just a bit. How was this vampire so casual about being caught in the act of drinking blood? Sure, it was from a vial, might not even be human, but they hadn’t tried deflecting at all.

“You know what? I’m hopefully out of the job by the end of this week anyway, and since you seem more interested in chatting away…”, Juno sighed, clicking the safety back in place. That, as he was immediately made aware, had been a mistake. The vampire was on him in a blink. Juno was turned around, his chest and cheek pressed to the nearest wall, before he managed to get so much as another glimpse at the vampire that had finally left the shadows.

“You trust some vampire in a dingy back alley not to rip your throat out, just because you tell him you’re about to retire anyway? My my, and here I was thinking your sense for self-preservation had improved, it being a requirement for vampire hunters and all that”, it was a growl, low and hinting at danger yet to come.

And quite frankly, too close - for a vampire of all beings - to Juno’s jugular for him to be comfortable with it. Except for one little detail. Juno’s brain slowly catching up on these off-hand remarks the vampire had thrown at him.

“Nurey-?”, he was broken off by the man’s lips on his cheek.

“I’m not sorry you found out like this, if I’m being honest. Even though I probably should have attempted a fight to scare you off and to get away without you connecting the dots”, his arm across Juno’s throat loosened the same moment his head sagged onto the hunter’s shoulder,

“Juno?” The hunter had fallen silent, even though he did relax into the man’s half-embrace. After a moment, he felt Juno shudder and slump. Concerned, he maneuvered Juno to turn in his arms, to face him, but before he could so much as replace his hands on the hunter’s shoulders, Juno had fallen into him.

With Juno pressed even closer to him, he felt that shudder again and realised it was sobs wracking through the hunter.

#jupeter #TPP fanfic #junoverse fanfic #peter nureyev #Juno Steel #juno steel series #Au fanfiction #Juno Steel AU #tpp jupeter #vampire Au #vampire #vampire!nureyev #juno x peter #peter ransom

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allthatglittersisnotgoldrush · 3 years

Note

for the analysis of a scene- the passage in Dust, Lit Like Stars, where Caranthir tries desperately to make a stew for the fam, but it fails. I felt like there was so much unseen symbolism in that, and was wondering if he too shares Mae's foresight, or at least just a little, and unknown?

Hello!!! Oh I am so glad you asked about this fic, thank you! (All anyone has to do is display positive interest in our Caranthir and they are IMMEDIATELY on my good side lol)

[note: there is a rambling commentary below, but if you are pressed for time and want only the funny part of the story skip till the very end]

I wouldn’t say that Caranthir has any significant piece of Mae’s kind of foresight, as he is a boy who cherishes the good things of the past and who is very practically concerned with the present and the immediate future. Looking far ahead or trying to guess the meaning of a flash of foresight is not really his thing, so even if he has a little in him through his bloodline, I don't believe he would even realize the presence of such a gift (or curse). This dream is mostly just the ill result of poor Caranthir being written by yours truly. I often have vivid dreams myself, so my son has to suffer the consequences. But hey, at least I let him cook? One of his favorite pastimes that also has great meaning for him because his mom taught him?

I know, I know, it’s not a particularly happy dream. Caranthir, especially these days in Mithrim, is so focused on holding the remnants of his family together that it just makes sense for him to have a dream about his struggle to do so. Unfortunately for him, even in his dreams his efforts have hardly any effect, and all his brothers leave him except for Mae.

(Sorry Caranthir, I feel bad that you made that stew like 10 times in your dream and in the end it didn’t even matter *cue Linkin Park music*. You tried so hard. I just needed you to be as stressed out as I used to get when I would have dreams where I try to warn family of some impending danger and they just won’t listen, and instead do something like calmly continue to eat dinner when I KNOW the house will burn down at 7 o’clock. Someone needs to teach you how to take control of your dreams.)

Anyway, I had a lot of fun coming up with the dream elements that make a regular scene somewhat weird. For example, Caranthir notices the blue cornflower bowl, which he thought his mom left in Formenos—and so she had. But I had just mentioned the bowl in the fic “trinity knot” and I wanted to bring it into this one just to flavor continuity. Also, in the dream, Caranthir actually cracks the bowl because he is being too forceful in dredging the meat. If this was his real life, Caranthir would be devastated that he broke a favorite thing of his mother’s, and would probably have immediately gone and placed a piece of it in his treasure box, but here he just is like what the heck there I go again. (Perhaps subconsciously he knew that this was a dream?)

Sorry I am sort of rambling and am on so little sleep that I cannot think to make any of the promised puns but this is my commentary so whatever I can do what I want.

I love getting Maedhros and Caranthir in the same room together, even if it is just a paragraph or two in a dream. Way, way back, in “a certain slant of light (where the meanings are)”, Mae saved young Caranthir from having to eat the nasty turnips Feanor had made, even though he ended up vomiting later because of it. I think this scene was and is so important to the brothers’ relationship because, if Caranthir did not already hero-worship his Maitimo in the way that younger brothers often do to their cool older brothers, he did after that. (I say younger brothers, but, fam, you don’t know how much I admired MY cool older brother, and still do.)

Anyway, I think that earlier scene just really cemented Caranthir’s love for and loyalty to Mae, and ever since, he has been looking for ways to repay Mae’s attentive love, even down to cooking stew for him in a dream, or snatching away a match before he burns himself. Caranthir really should stay by Mae’s side forever!

Agh it is midnight I am sleep deprived and also have to get up early, I have got to stop rambling. However, let me tell you one last thing! I was like, Maglor should come in while Caranthir is making the stew, and suddenly, for no good reason, like, I have NO idea where this came from, I thought of the maid Amelia Bedelia.

Amelia Bedelia was a character in kids’ books who took EVERYTHING literally, and she would always come this close to losing her job in a wealthy household because of her numerous ridiculous mistakes. (Her saving grace was the fact that she made excellent cherry tarts or something like that.) Anyway, in one story, the employer asks her to make a date cake. So what does Amelia do but take a calendar and cut out the dates to put in her batter! The memory of that story cracked me up so much I immediately had dream Maglor cut up his music into Caranthir’s stew. It seemed about the silly dramatic sort of thing he would do! In a dream of course, never in real life. Probably. Well. :/

Thanks for the ask, hope you enjoyed this commentary, provided to you by Victoryindeath2!

#gold rush au fic commentary #cite a gold rush fic or send in a scene from one and we will provide commentary and behind the scenes about the writing of it!#caranthir in dust lit like stars #silmarillion fanfic #please pretend that I am saying all this in voice-over as an episode of the gold rush tv series plays #goodness i need to go to bed #victoryindeath2 fic commentary

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sickfic-with-kiko · 4 years

Note

A request if it’s not too specific: at a joint practice between Nekoma and Fukurodani, Kenma and Akaashi both fall ill. Cue caring Kuroken and BokuAka with the usually goofy Kuroo and Bokuto being concerned and serious for once. Bonus points if: Kenma calls Kuroo “Kuro” and is embarrassed about getting sick in front of everyone; Kuroo is reassuring and calls Kenma kitten; and Bokuto is adorkably worried about Akaashi and is falling over himself trying to do anything to help. No worries if not x

Hello! It’s been a long hiatus, but I am: back! The Bokuto in this ended up having his shit together, I hope this is an enjoyable read anyway!

Sweat drips onto the court, as the ball goes up and is spiked on the opposite side. A shout of victory comes from Fukurodani, as Bokuto high-fives Akaashi. “Did you see my super sharp line shot, Akaashi?!” He exclaims, as Akaashi acknowledges him and nods.

“Damn it, his spikes are in top form today.” Kuroo groans, arms growing red from the receives he’s been doing. “Can’t the guy go into emo mode already?”

“We gotta work for that. Kenma, any ideas?” Yaku turns to Kenma, who looks a little spaced-out.

Kenma glances at Yaku, and opens his mouth slowly. “Uh… We could aim for Bokuto-san more so he’d have to receive instead of spike.” He suggests, his arm discreetly pressing to his stomach.

To tell the truth, Kenma had been feeling off since the practice match had started. Granted, his stamina is far from the best. But this is strange, even for him. He glances at Kuroo, who notices something off.

“You look a bit out of it, Kenma. Is something wrong?” Kuroo asks him straightforwardly, and Kenma ends up shaking his head. His stomach and throat feels a little weird, but it’s not enough for him to sit out. He can still move around and get his head to churn out strategies.

The only thing that’s churning is his stomach, Kenma thinks ruefully. There’s a distinct heaviness in his stomach, that has a slightly sharp edge to it. He feels it gurgle when he throws a toss up to Yamamoto, but it’s much too loud in the court for anyone to notice.

As soon as the spike goes in, Kenma’s mouth fills with watery spit. The unexpected event leaves him confused, as he swallows it down and continues to play. He notices Kuroo and Yaku stare at him for a moment, and for a split second, he wishes he’d told Kuroo he was feeling sick.

Stopping the game will draw attention to himself, and Kenma doesn’t want that. It’ll be Fukurodani’s match point in another two points, and he hopes that they could hurry up and get the set over with. Then, he can disappear quietly out of the court.

“Kenma!”

Kuroo receives the ball, and Kenma knows he’s in perfect position to set it to anyone. He scans the court with his tired eyes, until a strong wave of nausea washes over him. He keeps his feet rooted to the ground, attempting to ride it out. It proves unsuccessful, when he pitches forward with a gurgle at the back of his throat.

Kenma’s eyes widen. There’s no way he can throw up on the court, when everybody’s watching. There’s more than one person staring at him now, wondering what had happened to him. The ball is long forgotten, rolling away from his feet.

“He looks like he’s gonna hurl.” Yamamoto says, eyeing him worriedly.

Kuroo hurries beside him, but even he’s unsure of what to do in this sort of scenario. Nobody could have predicted this situation, where Kenma is two seconds away from losing his lunch all over the court. He reaches over to place his hand onto Kenma’s back, which only agitates him further.

A quiet hiccup comes out of Kenma’s mouth. His stomach clenches, and something warm shifts up to his throat. He covers his mouth in a futile attempt to hold everything in. With a foul-tasting burp, a slurry of vomit pours out of his mouth, and in between his fingers. The entire court is thrown into disarray. Kenma wants to run out sobbing, but his stomach hurts too much and he feels like he’s about to be sick again. There’s a gentle hand on his back, rubbing circles. It’s Kuroo.

“Someone, get a mop! And some water!” Kuroo yells, and the other third years hurry away to help them out. Kenma coughs up another splatter of vomit, not knowing what to do with his soiled hands.

“Kuro… I don’t feel good.” Kenma sobs, in between weak heaves that only bring up clear liquid. Kuroo comforts him through the vomiting, guiding him away from the puddle forming beside him.

Kuroo sits him down at the sidelines, grabbing a towel to wipe his hands and face. “I know, kitten. Just relax a little, and I’ll handle the rest.” He takes a plastic bag and places it into Kenma’s lap, in case he feels nauseous again.

After Kenma gets whisked away to the infirmary, the match restarts on a different court. Bokuto picks up his pace quickly, while Nekoma is at a disadvantage with their setter gone. Despite this, his spikes lack the usual power and control.

For once, it’s not Bokuto’s emo mode. Even Bokuto himself can tell the tosses are weird. “Akaashi, you okay?” He asks, grabbing Akaashi’s hands. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

Akaashi shakes his head. He’s sweating, but there’s still a pale tint to his skin. It doesn’t take long for Bokuto to put two and two together.

“Are you feeling sick?”

Akaashi almost immediately shakes his head. “I’m probably just shaken up,” he murmurs, hand ghosting over his stomach. “I’ll be fine.”

Bokuto nods hesitantly, keeping an eye on Akaashi as he resumes spiking. But with every toss that Akaashi sends, his expression becomes increasingly pained.

When Bokuto extends a hand to forcibly drag Akaashi off the court, it’s pushed away.

“Hey, Akaashi!” He calls out, but Akaashi turns around and dashes off the court. Bokuto shares a glance with his teammates. “I’m gonna check on him!” He follows in Akaashi’s footsteps without wasting a moment. He shouldn’t have gone that far.

It doesn’t take long for Bokuto to find Akaashi. He’s hunched over the taps, breathing harshly. It’s a sign that something is very, very wrong. Akaashi is never hunched.

“Akaashi.” Bokuto gets a flinch in response. Akaashi had been too out of it to even register him coming close. “Where does it hurt? You feel like you’re gonna be sick?”

Akaashi gags, but nothing comes up. Bokuto peers into his face, and finds that he’s actually crying.

“I felt sick for a while after the match started,” Akaashi admits, rubbing his stomach with one hand. “I’m sorry for interrupting the game.”

Bokuto caresses Akaashi’s hair softly. “Hey, none of that, now.” He rubs Akaashi’s cheeks with his thumbs, reassuring him. “It’s just us two here. It’s okay if you need to throw up.”

Bokuto shifts his arm to wrap around Akaashi’s middle. He can feel his stomach gurgling, and wonders how Akaashi had toughed it out for so long. He makes gentle circles with his palm, rubbing the tension out from his stomach.

A weak, silent heave rips out of Akaashi, his stomach contracting under Bokuto’s palm. Only a few drops of spit spill past his lips, but it’s clear that something in his stomach needs to get out. Bokuto adds some pressure to his hand, pressing against Akaashi through his clothes.

That had seemed to do the trick. With a choked gurgle, a rush of sickness splatters into the sink. There’s no holding back now, wave after wave of nausea hitting Akaashi until his entire frame trembles.

“There we go. It’s okay.” Bokuto shushes Akaashi, keeping his touches tender. Akaashi throws up with a painful retch, tears dripping down into the sink below. His stomach cramps with the force of the vomiting. Only pale liquid comes up after four or five heaves.

Bokuto rubs his back as he dry gags, turning the taps on to wash the vomit away. “Let’s get you to the infirmary, okay? He says, as Akaashi scoops some water in his palms to wash out his mouth.

Akaashi nods, too exhausted to argue. “Thank you for comforting me, Bokuto-san.”

When they reach the infirmary, Kuroo is there with Kenma, rubbing his back as he whimpers into his shoulder. “Akaashi’s sick too?” Kuroo asks, and Kenma glances at the two momentarily before he resumes leaning into Kuroo.

“Yep. It’s probably a good idea to have this match another day.” Bokuto shrugs, patting Akaashi’s back. “Our two setters weren’t feeling good.”

Akaashi sits down on the bed, with Bokuto beside him ruffling his hair. “And the captains ditched the game to take care of us.” He adds, smiling.

“And I’ll do it again if I need to!” Bokuto hugs Akaashi hard, momentarily forgetting that he had thrown up a few minutes prior. There’s a shared warmth between the four of them, as they sit huddled together.

#haikyuu sickfic #emeto #Kozume Kenma #akaashi keiji #vomiting

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ma-skee · 3 years

Text

Silently Calling You Home

Reposting from Ao3

Fandom:

One Direction (Band)

Relationship:

Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Characters:

Harry Styles

Louis Tomlinson

Additional Tags:

Larry Stylinson Is Real Sickfic Sick Character Sick Louis Tomlinson Established Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson Protective Harry Styles Fluff Cute Chronic Illness Chronic Pain

Silently Calling You Home

Summary:

Harry is coming home from a trip and wants to take Louis out as a way to celebrate.

Louis falls ill and feels awful for ruining Harry's plans.

-----

He woke up to the buzzing of his phone.

He didnt know where it was but he could hear it. It must be his alarm.

He had set an early one so he could fall back asleep, which he was grateful to his past self for thinking of because his head was filled with a stiff pressure that made it difficult to open his eyes.

The buzzing stopped and he took a deep breath, letting himself sit in a hazy, half asleep state, fighting the urge to completely fall back asleep.

He must not have done a good job because suddenly his phone was buzzing again. He groaned and pushed himself up. There was a present ache in his hip from laying on the hard tile floor of the bathroom, his face felt puffy and tight, and he couldn't find his phone.

He tugged his blanket into the air, hoping it was tangled up and would fall out. Sure enough, it clattered to the floor, still buzzing.

.. it wasn't an alarm, it was a phone call.

His eyes were too bleary to read to name, so he hit the green button and hoped for the best.

"...hello?"

"Good morning Louis!"

"...morning Haz." His voice caught in his throat and he fought back a cough.

"Are you ready to adventure?"

Adventure? What was he talking- oh. Oh no.

Harry had called him late yesterday afternoon, asking if he wanted to 'go on an adventure'. Louis was nervous to comply because Harry wouldn't tell what an 'adventure' entailed.

"Cmon Lou. It'll just be me and you, doing some fun little things. I swear I'm not trying to drag you to the woods to murder you. It's just been a while since we've hung out and I want to see you."

"You really can't tell me what the 'fun little things' are?"

"It won't be a surprise if I do."

"You said it was an adventure, not a surprise."

"...it's a surprise adventure."

Louis couldn't help the smile, or the warm feeling in his chest. Harry really had a way around questions.

"It's nothing like skydiving, right?"

Harry's giggle made Louis bite his lip to keep from laughing back. He was trying to be serious here.

"No, no skydiving. I truly mean 'fun little things'. Like a date."

"Did you just ask me on a date?"

"I've been asking you on dates for years. Can you come tomorrow or not?"

"... yeah, I can come."

"Great! Oh, great. I haven't seen you in forever, I can't wait to see you."

"It's been 4 days."

"Says the man who called me two days ago because you saw an infomercial that reminded you of me."

"Says the man who called me an hour after you left."

"Touche. Anyway, I'll be back at 9am. I'll drop off my bags and then we can head out."

"Sounds good."

After that phone call, Louis had gone back to cleaning the house for Harry's arrival. He made himself some dinner, watched an episode of a show, and gone to bed.

He woke up a few hours later, shaking from a frightening dream that he had already forgotten. A few deep breaths calmed him quickly and he lay back down and closed his eyes.

But this time he couldn't fall alseep because of a headache that had suddenly become eminent, accompanied with a side of nausea. He continued to try and sleep though, with the hope that he would wake up feeling better. But the nausea grew heavy and eventually Louis found himself grabbing his phone off the nightstand and dragging a blanket and pillow to the bathroom to wait.

And wait he did. He wasn't exactly sure how long he sat on the bathroom floor, shivering from the cold tile, but the nausea was playing with him, coming in rolling waves. He'd be hunched over the toilet, feeling seconds away from throwing up, swearing he could feel bile rising is his throat, and then it would subside. It wouldn't leave, but he would feel safe enough to pull away from the toilet and lean against the wall behind him.

When the nausea dipped, the aching in his head would replace it. Eventually he pulled himself up to the counter and soaked his washcloth under the water to lay on his forehead, which definetly helped. At least until he found himself leaning over the toilet again, nauseous to the tenth degree, salty tears dripping off his chin and quiet moans of agony pulling from his tight throat. He couldn't decide if he was more glad that he was alone or upset that Harry wasn't there to comfort him.

Being alone ment that he wasn't going to be bothering anyone else, wouldn't be inconveniencing Harry because Harry would insist on taking care of him. On the other hand, Harry would be taking care of him, with his comforting voice, his gentle touch, his deep care and love for Louis. He wouldn't mind, or he would say he didn't, but at the very least they could cuddle together.

Thinking of Harry ended up making him cry harder, because he felt so miserable and as embarrassing as it would be if Harry was there, it would probably make it better in one way or another. Then the nausea tipped to a new level of awful and he finally threw up, leaving him with a burning throat and heaving for breath. Slowly he layed down until the tile floor was cooling his burning face, where it felt so good to lay until he accidentally fell alseep.

"Louis?"

"Hm?"

"Are you ready to adventure?"

"...no." He rubbed an eye with his free hand "I woke up 45 seconds ago."

Louis could hear the fond smile in Harry's response. "Precisely why I called you while I was still a half hour out."

A half hour? "I had an alarm set."

He had set two of them, to wake him up nearly 40 minutes ago. Somehow he slept through both of them, probably exhausted by his sudden bought of sickness last night.

"Did you? Sorry then. Just excited to see you."

"Me too..."

A comfortable silence fell on the line, small smiles on both of thier lips.

"Okay then, I'll let you get ready. See you in 30."

"See you in 30." Louis echoed.

"I love you."

"... love you too..." Louis mumbled around a yawn.

The line fell dead, and Louis dropped his hand into his lap, taking in his surroundings. He was still camped out on the bathroom floor, blanket laying in a tangled pile and pillow with the case askew, hardly even on the pillow anymore. He felt groggy and gross, like long dried sweat and his clothes twisted all wrong on his body.

Actually, he was glad Harry's call woke him. If he had found him laying on the floor like this, he definitely would have freaked out, understandably. But Louis was sure that no amount of persisting would make Harry believe he was fine, he didn't feel sick anymore.

Well, maybe he felt a little sick still, but it wasn't that bad and Harry had planned out a day trip that he was clearly excited about. More realistically it was something they had already done several times and Harry was just excited to see Louis and get to do something they often did and was hyping it up to make it seem more fun.

Honestly, Louis would prefer to do something they often did, like walk in the park at sunset (or even sunrise on the off occasion they were up that early) or wander through the local art gallery, pointing out their favorite parts in the pieces. Even making dinner to eat with a movie.

But Harry was excited, which Louis liked and he didn't want to spoil Harry's fun. So he pulled himself up to the counter, one hand still protectively over his stomach, where he got a good look at himself in the mirror.

His face was puffy, tear stained, and the edge of the tile had left a crease on his cheek. Half his hair stuck out at strange angles and the other half was plastered to his head and his shirt was wrinkled. Man, what a mess.

He turned on the shower, leaving it to warm up as he kicked the pillow and blanket to the far corner of the room where his shirt and sweats soon followed. The refreshing water helped marginally, washing away the sweat and grit. He scrubbed his hair and then his body, letting the warm water soothe the leftover aching. The steam cleared most of the pressure in his head and his throat no longer felt like sandpaper. Whatever had happened last night must have been a fluke.

He turned off the water and pulled a towel off of the rack, glad it was freshly washed. He quickly dried himself off and brushed his teeth, getting rid of the remnants of the sour taste in his mouth. He felt fine, great even.

He gatherd up the pile in the corner of the bathroom, dropping the blanket and pillow off at the bed on his way to the closet, where he dropped the clothes into the hamper, which he gripped tightly to as a slow wave of dizziness passed over him. He gathered clothes to get dressed, including one of his nicer pairs of sweatpants because jeans sounded too uncomfy right now. Hopefully Harry wasn't taking him anywhere fancy.

He wandered back into the bathroom to wash his face, ignoring the start of a headache behind his eyes. Then he slowly made the bed, straightening the blanket and fixing his pillowcase.

He didn't mean to, but the bed was comfortable, even though he was laying on top of the covers, and an ache was settling into his body, especially his stomach. The sun was shining through the window, warming and blinding him at the same time. He didn't mean to fall alseep, it just happened.

He had only been sleeping for ten minutes when Harry pulled into the driveway, opened the garage and parked his car.

Harry decided he could grab his bags later. Right now he just wanted to see Louis.

Louis, who wasn't in the kitchen drinking coffee like he expected. He wasn't anywhere on the ground floor. Harry stood still, listening for signs of life, but it was silent. Had he gone somewhere? No, his car was in the garage.

So Harry headed upstairs. Perhaps he was in the office, answering some early morning emails, wearing his red headphones, unable to hear Harry's arrival. But the office was empty, the computer off and cold, headphones still plugged into thier charger.

The bedroom then. The door was open a crack, so Harry gently pushed on it, causing it to squeak ever so slightly as it opened. Then he smiled and pulled out his phone to take a picture.

Louis was curled up on top of the bed, using his hands as a pillow. The sun was shining around him in a square, showing the dampness on the blanket from his still wet hair, and almost putting emphasis on his chest as it rose and fell with his breath, making him look like a cat that had sought out the perfect place to lay in the afternoon sun that was shining through a break in the rain. He could see dust particles floating in the air, which aside from how gross dust is, made the setting look angelic. He was wearing his "nice sweats" - Harry didn't understand how a pair of sweatpants could be "nice", but Louis had always valued comfort over style while Harry was more on the opposite side of that spectrum -, which meant he had been awake long enough to get dressed, but he was wearing mismatched patterned socks and one of Harry's old hoodies.

It was truly an old hoodie, one he'd had since he was in school. It had a few small holes and strange stains, but Harry couldn't bring himself to get rid of it. It wasn't like he had memories attached to it or it was given to him by a deceased family member. It was just a deep red hoodie with deep blue accents, and he just kept it, even after he outgrew it. But then he met Louis, which butterflied into them moving in with each other and Louis found the hoodie at the bottom of a box he was unpacking. Although it fit him perfectly, Louis didn't wear it very often.

Harry set his phone on the dresser and toed off his shoes before crawling onto the bed and laying in front of Louis, who stirred as the bed moved. Harry studied Louis' sleeping face. It was so sweet, so carefree. He leaned forward and kissed his nose, hoping to wake him. When he didn't stir, Harry resorted to gently blowing in his face.

Louis' eyes fluttered open, the blue shining brilliantly in the sun, but causing him to squint. Harry shifted so he was blocking the light. Louis blinked again, finally registering who was in front of him and softly smiling.

"Morning sleepyhead." Harry whisperd, not wanted to disturb the quiet.

"Morning." Louis whispered, not wanting to bother his throat by talking to loud.

"Did you miss me?"

" 'course." His eyes slowly slid closed again.

"You only pull out that sweater when you really miss me."

"Hm." Louis sighed, pulling in air to talk. "I really missed you then."

They lay together for a few minutes, just basking in the sun and each others presence. Then Louis sighed deeply and rolled onto his back.

"I'm falling back asleep." He murmured.

"Hm.." Harry propped himself up on his elbow, looking at the way the sun shone onto Louis' hair. Harry moved so that he was sitting over Louis, straddling his hips and looking down at him. "You look so pretty in this sunlight." He whispered.

Louis smiled, his eyes falling closed again. Harry leaned down to kiss him, first one cheek, then the other, then his lips, Louis tiredly kissing back, long and slow and warm.

... too warm.

He pulled away, watching Louis's face fold into a frown.

"Haz?"

He didn't answer. Instead he placed a hand on Louis' forehead.

Louis sighed. Of course. Harry couldn't have been home for more than ten minutes and he had already figured out Louis was sick. Of course, of course, of course.

"Are you feeling okay, Lou? You feel warm."

He sighed again. His throat started to feel tight, his eyes stung with tears behind his still closed eyelids. Harry could tell Louis felt conflicted about something, by the way he sighed and then by the way he kept swallowing. His fingers began tracing along the seam in Harry's pants.

"I'm sorry." It sounded choked. He immediately swallowed.

"For what?" Harry slowly sat back, his arms growing tired from holding him up over Louis.

He swallowed again. "You were.... you were so excited-" he bit his lip, trying to keep his breath from hitching. "So excited about the a-adventure..."

"Oh, Lou.." Harry grabbed the hand on his knee and interlaced his fingers. "Don't worry about that. It can wait until you feel better."

Louis only nodded, still fighting tears. Harry kissed the hand he was holding before setting it down. He sat forward and stretched his legs out behind him, lacing his hands under Louis' arms, resting them on his shoulders and laying his head on his his chest. Louis responded by wrapping his own arms around Harry, one hand laying between his shoulder blades, the other slowly playing with his hair.

Harry could feel Louis' breathing hitch beneath him. "Louis, it's okay, I promise. I was only going to take you on a scenic drive to this little coffee shop." He lifted his head to see Louis now had his eyes open, staring at the ceiling, tears dripping down the sides of his face, into his ears.

"Finally got you to tell me." He whispered.

"Cheeky." Harry whispered back as he used his thumb to wipe the tears. Louis closed his eyes again, sighing. Harry could feel him relaxing, so he lay his head back down, listening to Louis' heartbeat.

Louis scratched an itch on his face before settling his hands where they had been before, sighing again. "... I love you Haz."

"I love you Lou."

" I'm glad you're home."

"Me too."

"Can't wait for the adventure."

"Once you feel better."

"Hmm."

The sun was so warm and comforting, along with holding each other in their arms. Louis fell back asleep quickly, and it wasn't long before Harry followed in suit, sorry he had missed Lou feeling I'll earlier, but glad he was home now and could take care of him.

#sick #sickness #sickfic #one direction #louis and harry #harry styles #louis tomlinson #sick louis #fluff

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dangan-happy · 3 years

Note

Give me back my glitter, Monomi! - (TW: Relationships/SelfH??) Hello again, could I speak with Kokichi, Hajime, and Nagito if possible. Uh I just,, had a breakup happen and it's hitting really hard right now I loved this person a lot and i'm having trouble coping. I'm having trouble being alone and can't even be off call with friends without my brain going in a loop. I haven't been eating/drinking properly either due to being nervous/heart broken and unmotivated. I also keep having nightmares.

I-I really do hate to hear about this. Break-ups are... heh, no matter what movies or any form of media show, they’re never as easy to deal with as they make them out to be. They’re always a slap to the face, no matter what, with some slapping harder than others. I truly am sorry, but I know you want to hear more than just that, so I’ll do my best to give you what you really need to hear instead.

Mind if I give you some advice? I may be some average Reserve Course student, but I still have some to give out. I can understand you having trouble with staying alone without having your mind beginning to spiral. As such, whenever you’re not talking to someone, I would suggest trying to do something that’s relaxing, but also something that’ll occupy your mind. A few things that come to mind are reading, listening to music, watching a TV show or movie, or even cleaning. Okay, that last one sounds boring, I know, b-but listening to music while cleaning makes it all better, so don’t take it off the table just yet!

Anyway, moving on. In terms of not drinking or eating properly, th-that’s worrying, so we should definitely focus on that and fix that, too. I know someone who keeps a bottle of water and a snack bag right at their bedside for when they’re too unmotivated or depressed, so maybe give that a shot? That way, if you feel as though you can’t even get out of bed, you can simply reach over and grab your water bottle or snack bag. It doesn’t have to be a super healthy snack, but it should be something decent, like Goldfish cracker or something, y’know? It would be a step in the right direction, at least.

And as for nightmares, reading or doing something relaxing like that before going to sleep might help you, well, relax. But it might also help influence your dreams, even if only by a little bit. But hey, try listening to calm music or background noise, like those ten-hour videos that just consists of rain sounds or forest sounds. Of course, it doesn’t work for everyone, but it’s worth a shot!

Still, all of this sounds so despairful; I can’t imagine how it must feel to have to currently deal with this much despair. Still, no matter the kind or severity or amount or anything, you can and will beat this despair. I have hope in you, and I have hope that in due time, you’ll get through this and win this battle against despair. There’s going to be all kinds of downs, and you might hit a roadblock or two, but by the end of the day, you’ll get through this. I just know it! I’ll cut through your despair and show you the truth of this case, no matter what it takes!

I-I know you didn’t ask for one, but if you want a hug, I-I can give you one. U-Unless you don’t want one or anything, th-then fine, I won’t give you one! But if you do want one, th-then get over here, so that way I can just go ahead and give you one. I-I hope you continue to not give in to this despair, and please do your best to take care of yourself, o-okay?

Yay! Corgi you're back! I mean, not yay because you're going through some not fun stuff right now, but like I'm happy to see you again if that makes you feel better? Yeah, I really don't know what I'm doing on an ask blog. Aaaaanyways, ok, I'm guessing this is a continuation of the last ask you sent in, and oh god, I'm really sorry. Again, I can't make jokes about that, because break ups just really really suck, and like I don't think I can say anything that'll make you feel better, but I'll try my best ok? Full disclosure, you're not obligated to be ok any time soon. This is like, a really emotional thing, and you don't have to hurry up and get better, it's ok if you're less than ok for a while. Yeah, it's gonna hit hard for a bit, and I think that's just life. Yikes did that come out harsh? I meant to say that you might have to feel the emotion a little bit. From what I've seen, the thing that'll help you feel better the most is time. It doesn't feel like it right now, but every day it'll hurt just a little bit less, and that'll continue until the pain is gone.

I would try to be around people as much as possible when you can if that helps you, but when you're more alone, I'd play loud music, or like a tv show in the background just to fill the void with human voices or something. You could hang out in the same room as your family, or grab a pet to vibe with you if you have one.

Yeah, I think the last part is the biggest concern as of now. Eating and drinking are like, kind of required to stay alive, so in my humble opinion, I think that's something to focus on so we can get that back on track. The first thought I have is that you should set a timer and try to eat at the same time every day. This way you can kinda train your body to be used to eating at those times, so you can make sure you actually eat. Like, I'm sure you feel like doing anything other than eating, but you gotta make sure you get some sustenance ok? As for the nightmares, I think those will fade with time too. A lot of this aside from the eating thing is playing the waiting game, and that totally sucks. The only other suggestion I have for you is that you should spend time distracting yourself or doing comfort activities to get you through the days until you're at a place where you can face the emotions and start moving on. I know, easier said than done, but you can do it. Take it slow ok? It's gonna hurt, but you're gonna heal. I promise.

Not to sound rude.... but I feel as if I’m the only one here whose actually been in a relationship! Even though if it wasn’t meant to be, hehe. Sadly Anon, I know this feeling all too well. The Desparing feeling of loneliness, as if you’ll never find another like them... hehe. Sorry to get so gloomy. It’s just... break ups are so full of Despair, it makes me feel ill. I’ve had my heartbroken once... never again... unless, well; if my luck comes into play somehow.

Anon if I may. I know that feeling all to well of feeling lonely once after going through something like this. I’d recommend feeling that little void with entertainment. Perhaps video games, books, drawing. Whatever helps you relax and feel happy. Hanging out with your friends is also good as well, however you’re going to have to get used to that lonely feeling; it sounds terrible, but you don’t want to grow too dependent on having your friends around to fill this void.

You must eat as well. Food can help lift your mood a lot. Feeling unmotivated may also be tied into your eating habit. Try eating anything at least, even if it’s something small. You can’t heal if you aren’t taking care of yourself... I want to see you happy and healthy Anon. Taking care of yourself is the first step of getting better and through this Despairing experience.

#danganronpa #danganronpa roleplay blog #ask #hajime hinata #kokichi ouma #mod hajime #mod kokichi #nagito komaeda #mod nagito

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rons-hermiones · 3 years

Text

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Thirty Nine

“At the time we just don’t find it-uh, productive to keep Miss Granger here. I talked to a memory specialist and he thought it best that she try and recover somewhere more familiar, comfortable. That maybe it would do her some good.” He told the couple, “Anyhow, it’s pretty much a waiting period now. Of course she’ll need to come back for check-ins or we’ll send someone to her because traveling isn’t very practical. Until magic can be performed, it's up to her to heal a bit.” Jamison finished.

Arthur nodded, while Molly said an “alright.”

“Very well.” He said writing something on some parchment before looking up again, “Unfortunately Miss Granger cannot floo nor side-along at this time. We can arrange a car through the ministry, what is the address the same as the one we pulled from the archives? Hampstead?” He asked unknowingly.

Without missing a beat, Molly spoke, “She’ll be coming home with us. To our house in Devon, the Burrow. I’m sure my husband can help to arrange suitable transportation for Hermione, right Arthur?” Molly said, though it was not up for debate.

“Yes, of course. I’ll be sure to owl Kingsley.” He agreed with his wife.

Jamison flicked his eyes between the two, but didn’t dare question them. “Alright.” He agreed. “Now, shall I tell her or will the two of you?”

Molly opened her mouth, but Arthur soon jumped in, “Our son will.” He said, eyeing his wife, who at first looked shocked but then slowly began to nod.

“I’ll start putting together the discharge plan we’ve been compiling this past week.” He said walking off.

“I’ll go tell Ronnie.” Arthur said, kissing his wife's cheek.

“Wait!” She called, stopping her husband.

He turned immediately, brow furrowed as he did so.

“I know he’ll want to know about lessons- Hogwarts. I’m positive Hermione will too, all of them actually.” She thinks aloud.

Arthur nods in agreement. He knows upon the news of Hermione’s homecoming, a million questions will come up from his son to ensure he is at her side every step of the way.

“This goes against my better judgement, but Hermione can’t go back until we know more about her condition and how to go about it, she obviously can’t go back to Hogwarts.” The woman sighs, “I know Dumbeldore said he strongly advised us to keep Ronnie home to help and I think it’ll be best.” Her tone is almost reluctant.

Her husband places a hand on her shoulder and begins rubbing it gently, sensing her conflict.

“Ginny and Neville should return. I owled Augusta and she agreed, but maybe we could see if they could floo home on weekends?” She suggested.

Arthur nodded, “And Harry?” He asked next, “he has to attend lessons with Dumbledore.”

“Albus suggested he could floo back and forth as well. He’ll want to see Hermione and Ron more than Neville and Ginny, I reckon. Maybe he can just floo in for lessons? He can collect his and Ronnie’s work to do at home. I’m sure they’d focus better together.”

“Okay, we can ask Harry what he wants to do to Mollywobbles, he could have an idea.” He reminds her.

With a soft kiss to his wife’s hair, he gives her a small smile before turning and beginning the familiar path to Hermione’s room.

Upon his arrival, he finds Ron how he usually does.

Leaning over a sleeping Hermione, whispering sweet nothings, promises, whilst tenderly stroking her hand or cheek.

“Son.” Arthur calls from the doorway, causing Ron to turn.

Upon seeing the young boy's face, Arthur noticed his blue eyes crystallized and were shining with tears.

The look of concern across his father’s face is evident to Ron, even with blurry vision. He sniffles harshly as swipes at his eyes.

“She’s not sleeping well. Nightmares I suppose. Healer’s said they’re lowering some doses on her potions.” He told his dad with a shrug, acting as if it didn’t affect him, when they both knew it did.

Clearing his throat, Arthur stepped forward, “well, I suppose I have an idea why.” He states.

Ron’s brow furrows in confusion.

“They’re discharging her son. She’s going home.”

He should be happy, shouldn’t he?

Jumping for joy and thanking his lucky stars that she’ll no longer be confined to these stark white walls and sterile smelling room.

But for some reason he can’t be, not completely anyway.

Like this entire experience, he felt bittersweet.

A good thing constantly eclipsed by pain, hurt, and a hundred other worries.

‘She’s going home.’

That’s what his father had said.

But where is home now?

“She can’t go home Dad.” He reminded me.

“But Ron, the healers-“

“No, I mean, her home, her house in Hampstead, she can’t go back there. She can’t go back to her parents. If I don’t even know where home is for her, then I doubt she does either. Her mind is probably working faster than usual dealing with all this shite. I just-“ his words catch in his throat, “I’m happy she’ll be out of here, but I don’t want to hurt her anymore by reminding her of things she doesn’t have anymore.” He whispers sadly.

The older man's heart breaks for both his son and the orphaned girl in front of him.

“Haven’t your mother and I taught you anything Ronnie?” He stepped forward and clapped a hand onto his son's shoulder. “Home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling.”

Ron became breathless at the words, because his dad was right, of course he was.

“Sometimes it’s hurt, or it’s comfort. It’s growing and learning. It’s tears and laughter. But above anything else, it’s love.”

He stays silent, taking it all in.

“Think of Harry. Home to him isn’t Privet Drive, it’s the Burrow or Hogwarts, because that’s where the people who love him most are. Me, your mother, your brothers, Ginny, Hermione.”

Ron nods after a moment, “you’re right dad.”

A small smile ghosts over his lips, “and if there’s one thing good I’ve come to realize through all this pain, it’s that I know there’s no shortage of love you can give to her.” He pauses, eyes boring into Ron’s. “So give it.”

Ron’s hand absently squeezes Hermione’s.

“Give it everything you have.”

...

It’s when Ron sees a tear slide down a sleeping Hermione’s face that he’s decided he’s had enough.

He silently slips away and calls for a healer.

“Hello son, I heard someone called for Jamison, but he’s attending to other matters. I'm Healer Evangeline. I’ve been working closely on Miss Granger’s case.” The brunette woman says, extending a hand to Ron.

He takes it quickly, “Ron Weasley.” He says.

“Okay Ron, what seems to be your concern?”

“Jamison told me they’re starting to lower some potion doses, getting ready to discharge her, but she isn’t sleeping well, you see?” He points to her scrunched up face, “she’s been whimpering and crying and I-I don’t know what to do. I just- please- I can’t-“

Evangeline can sense him becoming hysterical, “relax son.” She soothes, patting his shoulder momentarily. “We’ve lowered her dreamless sleep a bit, but I reckon the look of pain is from something else.”

“What’s that?” He asks anxiously.

“A lot of pain relieving methods require spell work you see, something Miss Granger cannot undergo. Therefore, we’ve been giving her some Muggle medication, painkillers they’re called.”

“Painkillers?” He whispers questionably.

“Yes, I assure you, they’re not dangerous, only if she’s one them too long. That’s why it’s important we continuously lower the doses until she can get off them safely. It’s unfortunately a very painful process.”

“Okay.” He breathes, but still isn’t satisfied, “okay, so what can I do? What can we do?” He asks next.

“I’m sorry Ron but it’s out of our hands, she'll have to fight. You’ll have to be there for her. But from what I’ve heard, there’s no shortage of fight within her.”

“That’s right.” Ron whispers, caressing Hermione’s calf gently.

“I’ve also heard, there’s been no shortage of you attending to her. She appreciates it. We all do.” Evangeline smiles softly.

He offers a slightly pained smile in return. Focus never drifted from Hermione.

“Wake her son. Tell her she’ll be leaving soon. Ask her how she feels. She’ll want to talk to you rather than some healer. I’ll be back in an hour.” The healer tells him as she walks to the door.

“Thank you.” Ron says, “what did you say you specialized in again?” But when he turned the woman was gone.

He supposes it was a question for another time, because right now he had to wake Hermione. Tell her she was leaving. Make sure she knows everything will be okay, even if it takes some time.

He knows that now, it’ll take time. He’ll have to wait.

No matter how sick and tired of waiting he is.

“Darling.” He whispers gently, hand on her cheek, shaking her lightly.

A groan escapes past her lips, giving Ron the go ahead to continue trying to wake her.

“Mione.” He says a bit louder, thumb making its way down her jaw.

She whimpers again, making concern etch it’s way onto Ron’s face. Behind her closed lids he can see her eyes moving behind them as a tear escapes.

There’s no doubt she’s having a nightmare and he just can’t bear to see her in any more pain.

So, he leans in close, lips almost brushing her ear and promises her everything’s okay.

“Wake up Mione, it’ll be alright when you do. You’re not there anymore, come back, here, with me.” He tells her.

Thankfully, she shoots open seconds later as she sits up, stiff as a board in bed.

The gasp that leaves her pierces his heart, Ron can’t be sure if it’s from the jolting movements or the dream itself. Maybe both.

Instantly, he reaches for the water at her bedside and coaxes her into taking a few sips. She does, then collapses back onto him. Her back pressed against his chest.

As Ron holds her, so lovingly, so tenderly, Hermione does her best to forget the things plaguing her mind.

She feels she’s on an endless loop of a never ending battle. A losing one at that.

Awake, she’s overcome by a sense of loss, emptiness, and pain. When she’s asleep, her mind is overcome with horrible memories. Those of mad witches and painful spells.

There’s no escape.

When she’s with Ron she feels different though. It doesn’t go away, not completely, and she doesn’t think it ever will. But she feels almost lighter in a way.

“I need to tell you something.” She hears a gravely whisper in her ear as he squeezes her tighter to his chest.

She nods, letting him know she’s with him.

He stays silent for a moment, but soon speaks, almost reluctantly. “They’re letting you leave Hermione. You’re being discharged you can-“ he stops, “you can get out of here.” He says shakily.

And she’s not daft.

Even with the dark clouds rolling through her thoughts, she’s still insightful, always searching for answers.

She notices how Ron purposely doesn’t use the word home because where was home to her anymore?

Did she even have one?

Did she even deserve one?

She wonders if her parents know. If when they moved on to the great beyond they somehow found out who their daughter really was.

A liar.

She lied about Ron’s rat. She lied about Cedric. She told her parents that she needed to miss their ski trip in fifth year because of exams, not because Mr. Weasley nearly died at the hands of a muggle-born slayer. She had written to them that Harry’s godfather was well. She even lied to her mother, saying the reason she was wincing so much the summer before sixth year was because of a broom accident and not because she avoided a fatal curse.

Wherever they are, they probably hate her, and don't even know who she is.

But to be fair, Hermione isn’t exactly sure who she is either anymore.

“W-where?” She mutters.

She isn’t sure where she belongs.

“The Burrow. I’ll be there, alright? I’m not leaving you.” Ron tells her softly.

She nods into his shoulder as his grip tightens around her. The action makes her wince before she can help it. Ron abruptly pulls away, like he’s been burned.

“P-pain.” She says, biting her lip to suppress a cry.

She wishes she could say more.

Try and tell Ron that it feels like someone is stabbing her with a million tiny needles poking their way from underneath her skin. Or sometimes it feels heavy, like Grawp is sitting on her body, crushing and suffocating her. On occasion it’s so bad she feels like she can’t see, can’t even think. Like the physical pain has nowhere to go but claw its way into her brain.

Times like those she likes to believe her parents are alive. That she and Ron have been in a relationship since fourth year. That Voldemort never returned, that Sirius and Harry’s parents were alive.

That’s what her comfort is now. Ron. Harry. Delusions.

And if Hermione Granger was one thing before all this, she was very practical. Never one to waste time daydreaming, fantasizing, but now, it’s her only escape.

...

They take a car to The Burrow.

Hermione knows enough to know she isn’t in the right condition to apparate or floo at the moment, but one thing she can’t help but wonder about is the bruises on her arms.

They could easily be expelled with a simple spell. One she could perform herself if she had her wand.

She’ll need to ask Ron about that later.

Upon her arrival, Molly had a space set up for Hermione in the corner of the living room.

There’s a floral curtain drawn, giving her privacy. There’s a cot tucked in between a bookshelf and chair. There’s water on the bedside table and a few tablets.

They’ve stuck Hermione in a wheelchair. Saying crutches aren’t doable with her arm broken as well. Again, it dawns on her why they don’t just use skele gro, but she does know the potion isn’t all that effective anyway.

“I thought it best you stay down here. Arthur and I are just down the hall and it’s close to the kitchen and the loo.” Molly told her.

But while Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would be on the same floor, Ron was in the attic.

So far away.

However, she doesn’t want to appear weak or clingy so when Molly asks if that’s alright, she nods, and sits on the cot.

Hermione doesn’t even realize it’s nightfall until she peers out the window and sees hundreds of glittering stars shining back at her. It’s a comforting sight.

At the Manor she was caged in like an animal. No windows. No fresh air. No light, save for the candle Cissy had set.

Ron lingers by the window sill, seeming to not know what to say or do, but not wanting to leave either.

And she doesn’t want him to go. The way the moonlight is hitting his face, making his blue eyes sparkle and copper hair shine, well, she wouldn’t be surprised if it was a dream.

“You must be exhausted dear. Take these,” Molly drops a few tablets onto the table next to her, “and get some rest. You deserve it.”

Hermione opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, of course.

“Hush, there will be plenty of time for that tomorrow. I know you must have a hundred questions.”

And she does.

Did they get Bellatrix? Greyback? Her home? How long was she gone for? Where’s Harry? Lessons? Was Cissy alright? Did Draco ever tell Ron or Harry about her? Why is she in so much pain? Did they forget the pain potion? Why was she on muggle medication? Where’s her wand? Is it stupid that she’s thinking about Lavender?

Mrs. Weasley nudges her back and begins to tuck her in like she’s a small child. Next, she holds out the glass of water and coaxes her into taking the pills. After, she kisses her brow and bids her ‘goodnight’.

Ron lingers by the window.

“Come along Ronnie, Hermione needs her rest.” And the tone of Mrs. Weasley’s voice, the lifting of her eyebrow, Ron knows it isn't a suggestion. It’s a demand.

He looks longingly at the brunette, not wanting to leave her, but he knows there’s no way his Mum would let him stay down here with her. It’s silly to think that sitting vigil at her bedside in St.Mungo’s was a better alternative than this.

“Ron.” She scolds again, drawing the curtain.

“Goodnight Mione. You know where we’ll be if you need us.” He says gently, squeezing her hand on his way around her bed.

There’s more he wants to say. Wants to tell her he wants to stay, tell her he’ll be down soon once his parents have gone to bed, but his Mum’s right there.

He just hopes the longing look he throws to Hermione before he leaves is enough.

But if there’s one thing Ron knows, he doesn’t think anything he does will ever be enough for Hermione to know how much he loves her.

...

The Burrow is quiet.

Too quiet.

Hermione doesn’t remember falling asleep, but right now she's awoken by complete and utter silence.

She supposes it’s better than being startled out of sleep by nightmares.

“Hermione.” She hears a familiar voice call.

“Mione.”

It’s unmistakably Ron, but when she looks around, he’s nowhere to be found.

Standing from Ginny’s bed she peers out the window and notices a silhouette outside, underneath the old Oak Tree. Looking to her right, she sees Ginny sound asleep under her mass of blankets and decides to slip out of the room.

She takes the stairs one by one, mindful of the creak on the fifth one from the bottom. Successfully skipping it, she soon slinks out the kitchen door, closing it softly behind her.

“Ron?” She calls out, she can’t see him in the dark.

“Over here!” She hears his faded voice call out.

Hermione works her to his general direction, ignoring the chill that runs up her spine.

Finally, she reaches the old Oak Tree, but there’s no Ron in sight.

“Ron?” She whispers.

“Other side.” His voice calls, sounding like it’s right behind her.

Working her way around the trunk, she finally makes out a silhouette.

“Now what have you possibly called me all the way out here for?” Hermione asks, but she amused more than annoyed.

“To play of course.”

The voice isn’t Ron’s.

“You still like to play, don’t you Muddy?”

Suddenly, Bellatrix Lestrange morphs from Ron into herself, like she was polyjuice as him.

“Your parents had so much fun! I think it’s time they tell you about it. Crucio!”

A terrible pain rips through her insides as she expels an ear piercing scream.

Ron reaches her before his parents do. He practically flies down the attic steps.

It’s been what, forty minutes? And the nightmare’s have already started? He thinks.

In the small time he sprints to the living room he does take a moment to curse himself out for not sneaking out sooner. He was planning on giving it an hour.

“No! Please no!” Hermione is sobbing as she trashes wildly in her bed, screaming escaping her mouth between words.

“Hermione!” He yells, pushing past his parents and sliding behind her on the bed.

He grasps her from behind, crashing her into his chest as he stills her movements. Her cries don’t silence, but her screams turn into whimpers. He begins stroking her hair as he leans in close to her ear, much like he would at the hospital.

“You’re okay. You’re safe. We’re at the Burrow, no one is going to hurt you, love.” He whispers. “Come on Mione.” He pleads.

And maybe she can hear him, because she stills as her eyes flutter open. They’re red and bloodshot, but he still thinks she’s beautiful.

When her brown eyes connect with him she begins to sob, succumbing to the mental exhaustion and falling back onto him. He holds her tighter and silently shoo’s his Mum and Dad away, who thankfully oblige.

After she cried for five minutes with no stopping, he decided he had enough.

“We tried Mum’s way, now we try mine.” He said to himself as he lifted her up.

And she must’ve been out of it because she simply burrows into his chest with no questions and he carries her up the stairs.

He places her on his orange blankets as he pushes Harry’s camp bed from Christmas so it’s touching his own.

He tucks her in nicely as he settles next to her and grabs her hand.

“Please try and sleep, I’m here now.” He whispers so softly it makes her insides melt.

She closes her eyes, suddenly feeling an overwhelming sense of security and comfort. Something she hasn’t felt in ages.

As sleep overcomes her again she can’t help but whisper one thing.

“Th-thank you.”

“Always.” She swears she hears back.

#Ron Weasley #Ron and Hermione #ron x hermione #rons-hermiones come find me #Hermione Granger #romione fanfic #romione #hp fanfic #hp #sixth year

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ineffable-endearments · 4 years

Text

Waking up in July

(Rating: G. Approx. 1917 words.)

July 1, 2020.

On reaching for the snooze, Crowley discovers an envelope he definitely didn’t leave on top of his phone. (Mail doesn’t usually get delivered to his bedside, of course, but given the handwriting on the front, Crowley has the impression divine intervention was involved this time.)

Dear Crowley,

I am writing to you in frustration. Not with you, you must understand, but with myself. There are a few things I do believe need clarifying.

Given everything that’s happened, I feel strongly that I ought to be behaving in solidarity with the guidelines the people of London have set for themselves. I must admit, it was a surprise to hear you express the same sentiment. I’ve always known you aren’t cruel enough to want to see innocent people fall ill (don’t you roll your eyes at this letter; you said it yourself), but I thought surely you would have your own ways of getting around the lockdown, carrying on outside the rules and indulging in mischief as you always do. Were this the case, it would only be responsible to invite you over here, to decrease your bad influence.

And yet, this was not the case. Still, after declining your offer when we spoke, I felt somehow unsatisfied, or perhaps at loose ends. It would have been very nice to share my baking with someone who is not attempting to steal my cashbox.

If you read this letter before July, do know you’re encouraged to reach out. We could at least speak telephonically. And if you don’t read this before July, know I will be immensely happy to meet with you again as soon as you awaken.

(There’s a long gap between the end of the paragraph and the end of the letter itself.)

Crowley...I suppose the truth is I miss you very much.

Yours, always,

Aziraphale

“Sentimental old sap,” Crowley says out loud. How else is he going to dislodge the painfully fond lump in his throat? “Right. Time to see what’s going on, then.”

Continue below or read the rest on AO3

One rushed mobile search and five minutes later, Crowley has an approximate idea of where the humans stand. They haven’t done the greatest job of getting the virus under control, but they seem to have made...progress? Arguably? Ugh, they could have done better. At any rate, if he and Aziraphale want to see each other, they’re going to have to form a...a “support bubble.”

The notion of asking Aziraphale out loud if he would like to be in something called a “support bubble” together almost makes Crowley want to turn around and go back to sleep.

On second thought, the angel would probably get a kick out of it, and the awful naming scheme would give Crowley something to gripe about, so all’s well that ends well, really.

The bookshop phone barely rings before Aziraphale’s voice is on the line. “Hello. I’m afraid we’re closing early--”

“Good,” Crowley says. “I’m not calling you to buy books.”

“Crowley!”

Oh, that’s a familiar delight in his voice. That’s rescuing-from-the-Bastille, cleaning-paint-off-his-coat, showing-up-for-Armageddon-in-a-flaming-car delight.

“Good morning, angel.”

“So very much has happened. I’d like to fill you in, but oh, I don’t even know where to begin...”

Crowley frowns at his phone, worried. “A lot has happened? What, at the shop?”

“No, no, I mean in the world.”

“All right. Well. Just start in...I dunno, start off from our last conversation, I fell asleep pretty much right away--”

“Come to the shop,” Aziraphale blurts. “You have to wear a mask, and-- and don’t go anywhere else, but it’s allowed. It...it’s okay now.”

“I’ll be there in five,” Crowley says, grinning, ready to ignore any admonishments about speed limits.

“Wait! Crowley?”

“Hmm?”

“Actually. If you come see me before July 4, we...we have to be in, ah. A support bubble.” There it is. “Have you heard about that yet?”

“Sure I have.” Crowley does his best to sound gruff and unaffected.

“You couldn’t be in anyone’s place but mine, you know. And even after the fourth, you couldn’t...get closer than two metres to anyone but me, even though you could visit--”

“Aside from the fact that all this is totally for show anyway, stop worrying, it’s fine,” Crowley insists. He miracles himself the least-ugly mask he can contemplate and bustles out the door, hurrying irritatedly back a minute later to grab the “something drinkable” he forgot.

They don’t even sit down right away, much less get within the 2 metres of each other. Aziraphale does, however, give Crowley a long, pleasantly intense look (it appears to be a proper drinking-in) when he enters the shop.

“Did you, ah,” Aziraphale clasps his hands together. “Did you get my letter?”

“I did,” Crowley says. “Got a bit bored, did you?”

Aziraphale sighs, impatient. “I suppose you could put it that way.”

“I’d have come over, you know,” Crowley says softly, just loud enough for Aziraphale to hear. “You could have called. Had my phone right by the bed.”

“I know,” Aziraphale responds, not any louder. He looks away to the table next to him, makes a show of studying a book that wouldn’t have moved from the shelf since 1949 if it weren’t for Adam’s reorganization. “But if you’d...stayed here, wouldn’t you have been bored?”

Crowley shrugs. “Maybe. I’m sure being bored here wouldn’t be worse than being bored at home.”

“If you were here, hunkering down as you put it, we might have got in each other’s way. I’m sure it would have been lovely for a while, but what about after a day or two? Or after a week? A month?”

“You have always liked being left alone with your work,” Crowley muses. “I could have gone to sleep here, too, though. I know you’ve got that little flat with the single bed you haven’t used since 1993 upstairs.”

At this, something in Aziraphale’s face loosens, and he looks almost as if he might smile. “Oh, now what kind of host banishes his guest upstairs for bedtime?”

“You absolutely would. Or I could just come visit and leave. Rules only apply to us if we decide they should, right?”

“Well, that’s the thing,” Aziraphale says. “I was stuck. It seems silly, I know, I know, but it’s such a strange time, everyone out there struggling - I would have felt terrible for choosing not to align with the humans’ rules myself. I was hoping…”

“That I’d help you get around them,” Crowley finishes.

“As you always have,” Aziraphale admits. That confession alone pushes the air out of Crowley’s lungs, a surprising sensation even considering his breath is optional.

“Those were...stupid rules. Dangerous for an angel to break. I felt like I was sort of doing you favors while also being a proper demon when I did that. This isn’t quite the same.”

Aziraphale nods. “No. Perhaps it’s not.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley says, urgently needing eye contact. Aziraphale cooperates, drifting even a little closer as he does. Not quite 2 metres away now. “This is our side.” Crowley gestures vaguely at Aziraphale and everything around them. “I can sneak around other people’s rules all you want, but I’m not gonna force my way around yours.”

“I don’t know what’s right,” Aziraphale says, plaintive. “People aren’t supposed to be seeing each other, so if we’re going to live here, neither should we. I missed you every day, though, Crowley. Isn’t that strange? We don’t even meet every day under normal circumstances, but something about being forced to stay apart reminded me so much of old times - bad old times…”

The angel is getting himself worked up. “No point worrying about it now,” Crowley interjects. “We’re a...we’re a ‘bubble,’ aren’t we? We’re following the rules just fine and I’m even allowed to come and go. Problems solved.”

Aziraphale purses his lips. “For now,” he agrees, smiling in earnest this time. “It did get me thinking about an awful lot of things, though.”

“And none of them have to be resolved this second,” Crowley reassures. “Would you like to talk over wine? I’ve been thinking about this bottle since April.”

“Certainly, yes.” Aziraphale waves his hand. “One more thing before we do, though. You know, it’s alright for people in a bubble to get close to each other.”

“You sure?” Crowley asks, not because he doesn’t know the rule, but because he doesn’t know what Aziraphale’s rule is going to be.

“Yes. I was actually hoping you might - and you can refuse, Crowley, really, it’s a bizarre request - but I was hoping you might allow me to hug you.”

Crowley feels a big, undignified grin breaking out on his face. He schools it into the best semblance of a smirk he can manage, but he’s definitely not going to fool Aziraphale. That’s fine. “All right,” he says. “If it makes you happy.”

There is a different sort of delight on Aziraphale’s face as he sidles nervously up to Crowley. It’s not as blatant as what he’d sounded like on the phone. It’s quieter, but deeper. It’s rescued-books-after-a-fallen-bomb delight.

“Come here,” Crowley murmurs, pulling his very favorite fusspot into a hug. Upon resting his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder, breathing in that cologne and the scent of various baking experiments, soaking in Aziraphale’s warmth like a...well, like a serpent in the sun, Crowley realizes this is as much for him as it is for Aziraphale.

And he doesn’t want to stop. Sod the wine; let this take hours.

“Do you still get the feeling we’re not supposed to be doing this, no matter how safe it is?” Aziraphale asks, voice muffled. He’s sort of talking into Crowley’s jacket.

“Not really the same for me,” Crowley says. “My lot weren’t big on guilt. Fear, more like. Terror, yes. Not guilt.” He lifts his head so he can rest his cheek against the angel’s ridiculous fluffy hair.

“Oh. Yes, that makes sense. Sorry.” Aziraphale presses his head into Crowley’s shoulder.

Crowley rolls his eyes, knowing Aziraphale won’t see it, more attempting to reassure himself that he hasn’t gone completely, entirely soft. “Let’s take it one moral crisis at a time,” he whispers, stroking Aziraphale’s back. Aziraphale shifts and breathes out, snorting very lightly (although he’d never, ever allow it to be called a ‘snort’ out loud) in a way that indicates he’s trying not to giggle.

“You know,” Aziraphale says, apparently regaining his composure, “they might tighten restrictions again.”

“It’s possible. It might be the smartest option,” Crowley agrees.

“We should consider what we’re going to do if that happens.” Aziraphale has not removed himself from Crowley’s grip. “If you’re really sure you wouldn’t mind…”

Crowley finds himself chuckling, progressing to a full-throated laugh. “What, sleeping upstairs?”

“Well, no--”

“We’ll cross that bridge if we get to it, but if there’s one thing I can guarantee, it’s that I wouldn’t want to sit around and chatter 24/7. You’d have your reading time.”

Aziraphale sighs. “And wouldn’t you miss your things?”

“Sure, possibly. Not like I was using them when I was sleeping the months away, though, was I?”

“All right.” Aziraphale pulls away enough to gesture toward the sofa, leaving Crowley wanting more. Days. Days more. Aziraphale is beaming, though, and Crowley might be, too, and Aziraphale doesn’t end the hold entirely because now their hands are clasped. “Now, bring the wine over here and let’s go sample the desserts. I’m especially interested to hear what you think of the devil’s food cake.”

#good omens #ineffable partners #good omens lockdown #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #covid19 cw #coronavirus cw #alcohol cw

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