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anincompletelist · 3 months

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[ vol i | vol ii | vol iii | vol iv ]

happy january friends! :D

there have been a crazy number of wonderful fics that I have had time to catch up on this month, and I've saved a few for next month's rec as well!

as always, please remember to leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed the fic or show support in other ways, and be kind! mind the tags and if you come across something you dislike, please kindly (and quietly) move on.

this turned out to be a bit of a long one! I hope everyone has had a wonderful start to the new year so far, and happy reading y'all! <3

it's a kind of magic | Jaistiel | E | 82k

Henry, the man who had asked if Alex's magic hurt him before asking if he used it for evil things. Henry, the man who seemed terrified of his magic, but also held a level of awe and wonder about it. Henry, the man who was likely scared out of his mind to share a tent with someone capable of the things Alex could do, but was offering anyway. "Alex." He watched as Henry's eyes widened with shock, his jaw dropping open just enough for his full lips to form a small, perfect 'o' shape. "If you're asking me to share your tent and your blankets, I guess you should at least know my name."

you can see it with the lights out | weathersriley | G | 3k

"Alex thinks of the water. Of feeling like he might never reach the surface, might never reach Henry. But Henry is here; Alex remembers falling asleep in the glow of his presence, and beneath his shaking fingers, Henry’s chest is warm and his heart is beating steadily and Henry is here. Alex is afraid, but Henry is here."

Dream A Little Dream Of Me | @affectionatelyrs | T+ | 9k

They’re no longer in the garden. There’s no grass, no flowers, no fireflies. Only stars—hundreds upon hundreds of them in an otherwise vast sea of darkness, dazzling and twinkling and here. “How—” “They came here for you,” Alex says, his voice light. “It’s what you desired. So, I asked them to come and shine. Just for you.” “But won’t the world need them?” Alex shrugs and simply says, “You need them more.” [Or, Five times Alex visits Henry in his dreams during his dark days, and one time he does so in the real world (and stays)]

if I do not have (your) love, I am nothing | @read-and-write- | M | 9k

The church says that sin keeps you away from God. Your disobedience is to remain hidden and only admitted during confession. The greater the sin, the greater your penance should be, and God, as the loving God he is, will forgive you. Because God is love, and he’s the greatest expression of it. Love thy neighbor is the greatest mandate of all. Yet, when Alex loves, his love is seen as perverse, impure. The greatest sin he has committed was to fall in love with another man, who has lain by his side during countless nights. But when Alex looks at Henry, he finds nothing reprehensible, nothing unclean. Instead, he finds the truest form of worship held between his arms, trailing fingertips that climb up Henry’s spine as a litany of words spill out from his mouth. A room consecrated by each whisper of God’s name, said so reverently that no one would dare say they have taken His name in vain. [A character study of Alex, religion, divinity and love.]

sea of endless hope | acastle | E | 65k+

Henry watches Alex, the man he adores and loves so ardently, and the moment is palpable, delicate, and yet too large for even the sky to contain. He watches Alex, and in that moment, he wants to be his husband, the ache and urge of it almost unbearable. “Daddy!” Nena takes Henry’s hands, and he looks down at her, the angel who had saved him, and he smiles at her, quiet with emotion, letting her lead him into place. He would follow her, follow Alex, anywhere. (Henry, Alex, and their daughter, and the first years of coming home, forever.)

I wake up with your memory over me (and that's a real fucking legacy) | @coffeecatsme | E | 21k

The ski instructor stops in front of him, takes off his goggles, and Henry about stops breathing for another reason. “Hey,” Alexander says with a grin, his face distinctly lacking in wrinkles Henry was expecting from a renowned instructor. There’s a bright grin on his face that rivals the sun, rich brown curls spilling out of a red beanie, and Henry realizes he’s absolutely fucked for a whole other reason than his inability to figure out how to stay upright in skis. [Or, the one in which Henry is hopeless at skiing despite his family's aspirations, and Mary hires Alex as an instructor to amend that.]

Praise and Supplication | @nocoastposts | E | 3k

Alex is always moving, always going, always seeking. He is defiance and brashness tinged with anxiety, but not in these moments. Henry pins him down with a gaze as heavy as his touch, and all of Alex’s motions cease. He is calm, he is obedient, he is pliable. He knows he’ll be broken apart piece by piece, sending waves of heat deep into his core. [When Alex gets stuck in his head, Henry helps him let go.]

Room for Rent (Sex Dungeon Not Included) | @everwitch-magiks | E | 19k

When Alex comes, he only knows two things: that he’s good, and that he’s Henry’s. And that’s all he needs to know. Alex’s housemate has a sex dungeon. It’s pretty much exactly what you’d expect; whips and bondage gear and a chair that looks like something a gynecologist would have use for. Alex, being the chill, sex-positive guy he is, is of course extremely cool with this. Totally normal about it. Enthusiastically supportive, even. But as Alex watches Henry invite a steady stream of men into his dungeon, he develops one tiny little issue with the arrangement: he desperately wants to take their place.

stolen glances with a string attached | @wordsofhoneydew | T+ | 6k

Henry’s eyes widen, his body tensing up in sheer humiliation. That’s when he sees a sly smirk make its way to the man’s lips, and it only makes the embarrassment course through his body more rapidly, feeling all the blood rush to his cheeks. The man then spins around in his office chair, reaching for what looks to be a piece of paper and a pen. He scribbles on it for a swift moment before pressing the paper up against his office window. The paper reads, “TAKE A PIC,” written in sloppy, bubble-like handwriting just barely legible enough for Henry to read. The man grabs another paper and writes for a moment longer, this time reading, “JK” with a winky face. Henry cocks an inquisitive eyebrow in his direction, the embarrassment slowly morphing into curiosity as the man turns the paper over for Henry to read the other side. “ALEX.” [An AU in which two men fall in love through their office windows]

two is better than one | @bigassbowlingballhead | E | 8k

“You’ve thought about being with two of me, baby?” Alex teases, “Are you sure you can handle that?” he smirks. “I can’t say the thought hasn’t crossed my mind.” Henry says matter of factly. “Not that it’s even fathomable.” “What if it could be…”

love left a permanent mark | @hypnostheory | E | 10k

Henry clears his throat and answers again. “I’m a bit nervous. About the needles.” “Thank you for telling me,” Alex says, voice dipping low. Henry wouldn’t move from his spot on the couch if the apartment was on fire. “People aren’t afraid of the needle. They’re afraid of the pain. But you’re not scared of that, right?” [Henry decides to get a tattoo. It comes with more than one kind of aftercare.]

Grounded In Fact | @england-would-fall | E | 5k

When Georgetown grad student Henry's and Alex's flights home are cancelled for bad weather, they secure the last room at a nearby hotel. Henry Fox, facing the prospect of sharing a bed with his roommate/love of his life/friend he has never confessed his feelings to, enters into an epic state of Gay Panic (tm). Come on in and watch as Henry Who Is Experiencing The Greatest Tragedy Since The Burning Of Alexandria navigates this very real and not at all in-his-head crisis.

kitchen confidential | @dumbpeachjuice | T+ | 4k

The NDA is approximately a mile long. “Jesus fuck,” Alex splutters. “What, is their favourite film The Menu or something? Am I gonna come out of this one alive?” [Or, the one where Alex is hired to cater a private dinner party for Prince Henry and his friends, and it does not go as he expects.]

Newton's Fourth Law | dilfpickles | E | 26k

In which Alex meets his new very attractive roommate through Reddit, downloads Grindr, and discovers some things about himself and his roommate in the process.

Knowing me, knowing you | phlebotinxm | E | 8k

It wasn’t like the thought crept up on him by surprise. It had come in waves, like white salty water spread upon the shore and leaving little bits of foam and dust for people to see, like an idea Henry couldn’t quite shake that seemed to bleed into every era of their lives. It stayed at the back of his mind as he got up in the morning, and pulsed against his temple when he fell asleep. [In which, upon discovering something he’d never imagined about his father, Henry realizes that he is ready to take the next big step in his and Alex’s relationship.]

All the Lonely Starbucks Lovers | @kiwiana-writes | E | 5k

“That floor doesn’t look like it’s very comfortable on your knees, is all.” Henry leans forward, scooping out a piece of brownie that got under the counter, somehow. “I wouldn’t worry about that—my knees are quite used to it, I assure you.” A ringing silence follows this pronouncement, during which Henry focuses very hard on opening a trap door directly into hell with the power of his mind. [Or, five times Henry puts his foot in his mouth in front of his customer crush, and one time he puts his dick in his customer crush's mouth instead doesn't.]

The Consequences (Of Our Actions) series | @anchoredarchangel | E | 78k+

"I sort of came out as bisexual to both Nora and myself when we were watching that fucking snoozefest of a Royal Wedding years ago, and I told her with no hesitation that you were on my list.” Suddenly, Henry looks very present in this previously one-sided conversation, eyes boring into him even if he sounds a little choked as he clarifies, “I was on-” “My No Consequences sex list,” Alex confirms brazenly, “Yeah." [Or: During an inadvisable spot of dating years back, Alex and Nora made a game out of making extensive lists of celebrities they could hook up with without it being cheating. One breakup and several years later, Alex meets someone on his list for the very first time at a charity gala and decides it's appropriate to tell him all about it.]

Burnt Offering | justice fortheJ14magazine | G | 9k

He just needs to get through washing his hair. Simple. Except washing his hair has never been simple. It’s the polar opposite, actually. The more he thinks about the task set out in front of him, the more daunting and impossible it feels. His limbs feel like lead and the weight of the hot water pouring over him makes his head buzz. But Alex can do this. He’s done it before. A shower after a long lacrosse game or that one time he had the flu and had to stop three times to sit under the water and collect himself. He can handle a little finals week exhaustion. He has to. [Or, Alex’s hair care routine is elaborate, he struggles to let Henry help him, and he learns some important things about receiving love through service.]

Ho for the Holidays | @whimsymanaged | E | 6k

“Listen, don’t worry about this,” Henry says quickly, already mentally crafting the passive-aggressive text he’s going to send Pez. “Better luck next year. I’ll just be off—“ “Hold your damn horses.” Alex stops Henry with a fast, surprisingly gentle hand to his wrist. His eyebrows furrow. “What did you put on your questionnaire?” Henry’s ears go hot. “That’s none of your business.” Alex scoffs and leans in closer. “Baby, we matched. It’s safe to say we have at least some interests in common. Be honest—was it because you confessed to having a secret desire to slap me?” [Or, Pez organizes an event called Ho for the Holidays, and these two idiots get paired up.]

see you all soon! :D

sarah / anincompletelist xx

#my fic recs #fic recs #rwrb fic #red white and royal blue fanfic #firstprince #Alex x Henry #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor

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smolvenger · 11 months

Text

Nursing the Prince (Prince Hal x fem! Reader Oneshot)

From: The Hollow Crown (specifically the events of Henry IV Part One)

Word Count: 3641

Summary: You tend to Prince Hal's wounds after the Battle of Shrewsbury.

Warnings: Mentions of death and battles, but no actual violence. I try my best to sum up in modern terms what happens in Shakespeare's Henry IV Part One for those of y'all who watched and got confused. But a bit of angst and lots of fluff. Medical practices that I'm not sure are period accurate but it's my fic and I can do what I want. Reader gets a Badass mom.

A/N: Thanks to @evelyn-kingsley and @holdmytesseract for encouraging me to write this! I wound up loving creating this!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp

You followed your mother’s footsteps as you held a basket full of herbs. Just ducking out into the hallways. You kept a handkerchief and pressed it to your mouth to brave the bad smells. Once you were out, you released it, taking in the cold air of the upper floors of the castle.

“He’ll be fine- wasn’t too much pus from him,” Your mother mused, reflecting on her last patient.

Both of you walked down the stone hall to a bench. Your mother set her basket there and then pulled out a certain herb.

“This-see? This helps with sleeping. It helps when brewed into a drink. And the king has had trouble sleeping sometimes-we’re going to give this to his physician who’ll give it to him. But you should know it too- in case you need it.”

You grinned at her. You took the herb and twirled it through your fingers before setting it down.

“I will. That’s good to know,” you confirmed.

You always admired your dear mother. She had a curiosity about plants, the human body, and of medicine since her girlhood. Though many discouraged her for years, saying such studies were only for men. That it was inappropriate for a lady who had connections to the throne to have an occupation. She ignored them to pursue her passions. That knowledge helped her heal a sick servant once. Then her own cousin. Then her cousin’s daughter. And so on, so forth- one after another would file after her. Soon, even those in the castle began to request her help. So, her life and free time was devoted to acting as a healer.

When she married your father, he did not force her to squash her talents but praised and supported them. Your intelligent, empathetic, defiant, and passionate mother in some circles may have been rumored to be a witch, but she was a heroine in your eyes.

Naturally, she asked you to assist her, and you agreed. You had to keep your mouth shut seeing skin sewed together. You became used to the sight of blood. Though there were times you would indulge in a look away at something gruesome. But you were catching on every day and learning what she knew.

“Well then, we might be called for an audience with the king himself. So stand tall and mind your manners,” she began.

You heard some doors creak open. Though it was early in the morning, visitors were common in castles. When your head turned, there was a jaunty rhythm of footsteps. A rhythm you knew too well.

Could it be? No…it couldn’t. He hasn’t returned since…

Sure enough, there was a flash of red from the next hallway. A bright red among that cold, grey castle where not even the sun could shine on today.

Yes- it was! The Prince of Wales! Prince Hal! For that was what suited him- he had his father’s name and inheritance. But not his father’s standards of princely behavior. You pinched the herb as you took in the sight of him in his red jacket and red cap.

Yes, Hal…the young prince. The wayward, badly behaving prince. The prince more familiar with taverns than castles, thieves than lord, and whores than ladies. One would think the prince was no better than a rake.

The times you saw him, interacted with him, talked to him, nervousness made a pebble in your belly. You feared he would think you…boring. The kind that would make him run back to the taverns for adventure. But he looked you in the eyes after you curtsied and first gave him your name. He’d look at you. And listen. And if he didn’t like you, he didn’t act in a way to show it. You spoke at the banquets and parties you were invited to- when he showed up, of course. The odd castle dinner here and there. Part of you dreaded seeing the infamous scoundrel pop out. But he…he was always nice to you. Polite, perhaps as any prince. He listened to you more than he spoke. He asked after you and your parents.

Though you saw the glint of his eye of craving excitement…there was something more inside him. He was more than just a rogue. There was good inside him. Maybe even the potential to be a good king himself when the time came (And Hal being such an astonishingly beautiful young man definitely helped your bias).

You felt your own heart pick up speed. Despite the cold castle, you felt hot and self-conscious when he turned his head and saw you. There was a sad look in his eyes, his jaw tight. But his eyes widened at the look of you. But an Earl- an old man dressed in black fur robes- prodded his shoulder. The earl pointed sternly to the throne room. Hal glanced again at you, confirming he saw you, and then walked off in that direction.

“Mother-the prince! The prince is back!” you hissed.

“Back?” she repeated.

“He’s rarely around here anyone! Is something the matter?” you asked.

“Haven’t you heard?” she replied.

“No, I haven’t.”

She sat down on the bench, and you sat next to her.

“I’ll tell you the short of it, Y/N. The Earl of Northumberland’s son and heir, Hotspur, has just won a successful battle for the king. He took several men of the opposing army as his prisoners. According to law, anyone who takes prisoners in battle must give them to the king- it is their due and the law. But Hotspur refused to give the king the promised prisoners- right in the king’s face! In front of all court! The king was not very happy about that- imagine! - and insisted he do so. Then Hotspur got his family to agree with him- and they realized something. They got a claim to the throne. They’re all a part of Richard’s side of the family, York!”

Richard the Second, the last king, was a king you only heard of. A king like a wisp of light. A king with a beautiful, blonde French queen who floated by him like a goddess on earth. A king who seemed only part of this world, not all mortal. A king with yellow robes and sleeves like a butterfly’s drooping wings. A king who spoke with a high, soft, gentle voice compared to Henry the Fourth’s low gravel. A king from a fairyland or heaven. A king who also taxed heavy. A king who took the money of old men as soon as they were dead. The king who lost favor with everyone. A king abdicated so that the people’s favorite- Henry IV- would replace him. But it seemed Richard hadn’t lost favor with everyone. Especially not those of his own family-of York.

“Y/N, they’re teaming up and going to overthrow the king himself on the throne! So can you blame him for being tense?” she finished.

“That would make me tense!” you agreed.

She shook her head and clicked her tongue.

“Many hail Hotspur as a hero. But believe me, my dear, he’s no better than a petulant child throwing a fit over not getting the toy he wants!” she vented.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little bit. You held up an arm to shut it off. Then you placed the herb back inside the basket.

“So If Henry is going to battle- he needs help…like his son.” you mused

Like thunder, you heard the voice of the king echoing in the halls as he scolded his son. You hardly heard Hal’s response. Even if you couldn’t make out all the exact words-God’s blood, the king sounded scary when angry! If the king was your father and scolded you like that, you would tremble and burst into tears in the throne room. It made you wonder how Hal would fare!

A servant said the physician was busy. You were escorted to a dining room to wait. Then there was a knock. But it was not the court physician.

‘His majesty, the Prince of Wales,” the servant announced.

In walked Hal, though he lacked the red cap he wore walking in. It freed his hair, so his auburn curls loosened from his head. Chairs creaked as you and your mother stood up and bowed.

“I noticed that both of you ladies were here and wanted to say my hellos,” he greeted.

“Consider us welcomed, your grace,” your mother replied.

“What happened with your father?” you questioned.

“I’m going to battle by his side. He’s giving me a command of my own. And I vowed to go and fight Hotspur- man to man,” he recalled.

“You’re going to go to battle…why should the heir apparent have to go to battle? Is he worried about losing the heir?” you questioned.

His blue eyes hardened, but he kept his voice soft.

“Father’s unhappy with me. Everyone knows that. I will redeem myself and trade Hotspur’s glories with my shame.”

“By dying?” you asked.

“If I die, I redeem myself, Lady Y/N.”

You then took out your handkerchief, twisting it in your hands nervously.

“I have three other brothers more fit to inherit the throne. Or it will be Hotspurs. Father says he wishes that so himself,” Hal continued bitterly.

You took a step forward to him. To think this could be the last you would ever see him alive. He had to know. Had to know that even alive, he was…liked? Perhaps even…loved? No- no you couldn’t’ allow yourself that. Though your heart and soul knew otherwise. But you could let only a slip of fondness for him out. Just a little at a time. Especially while Hal still lived.

You handed your handkerchief to him.

“Here-have this with you. Keep it by your side!” you insisted.

He accepted the light, pale cloth in his hand.

“Promise me should you live, you shall return it to me,” you continued.

He broke into a smile and a small chuckle. He played with the handkerchief with his long, beautiful hands.

“My lady- I couldn’t take your precious item,” he refused.

“No! Take it! I mean it!”

He moved the collar of his red leather jacket to his black shirt beneath. You felt the breath hitch in your throat to see a peek of his bare skin. Then you forced your eyes off it. Looking down to the floor like a modest maiden, not one who saw a glance of skin and could imagine more from it.

“Did you know the last time I had a favor from a woman it was from a prostitute?” Hal asked.

You perked up. Your mother raised an eyebrow.

“No, we didn’t!” she cried.

Hal let out a laugh, nodding his head.

“I did! I was at a joust for my father! And got a glove from the most experienced prostitute in London-and wore it!” he recalled.

“Do you compare me a whore, my lord?” you asked.

“No! But…I shall say I had yet to receive an act of kindness from anyone from any person here at court…”

He let out a deep exhale through his nose.

“Lady Y/N, thank you. It will be worn with pride,” he promised.

You gave him a small smile. If this was the last time he saw you- that’s the picture he should have.

“My Lord-please be careful. And train. Train so you can fight,” you advised.

“I always do, my lady,” he said, giving you a wink before he said goodbye to your mother and walked out.

Your mother was smiling ear to ear. She went up, grabbed your arm, and hissed in your ear.

“I’m old, but not blind my dear!”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Ladies don’t give favors to men they dislike. And you look at the prince like he was a honey-cake! I don’t blame you, though-he is definitely something to look at!” she said.

“Mother! Such talk! What if he overhears?” you whispered.

“And risk getting The Prince of Wales as a son in law? I don’t see any reason why not!” she responded.

You playfully swatted her arm. Then you both melted into giggles before it was time to continue with duties.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

The day of the battle arrived. The day when the Northumberland rebels would face the Lancaster army. The day Hal would go to war and fight Hotspur.

It was a cold, grey day. Anytime you stepped outside the gust of wind whipped at your face. That morning there was a snowfall that stuck to the ground, and then was mixed with the mud.

How perfect, you thought in a dry tone.

You would do your best to distract yourself. After all, it wasn’t like…you were married to Hal or anything. You paced about, unsure what to do, what to think. Perhaps you could go to your mother and confess your worries and cry. But you kept them hidden. Perhaps it was foolish to love a prince. Princes marry the daughters of kings, not the daughters of healers.

The day faded to the early evening. You sat in your chair near your mother. There was weaving and sewing to be done. With the crackling fireplace and howling wind, it was quite peaceful.

A servant ran up, bowing his head low and back up.

“A messenger, My lady! From Shrewsbury!” he announced to your mother.

Shrewsbury- where the battle was. There was going to be news at last. You dropped your sewing onto your lap and gripped the arms of your chair. A messenger- with blood and dirt smeared on him, came forward.

“Well, what do you have to say?” Mother urged him.

“The Battle is decided- The King won the battle over Northumberland. His caught enemies shall be executed. The rebels are captured.”

The words spewed out of you in desperation.

“And what of the prince?”

“The prince Hal lives- led his command to victory today.” The messenger reported.

You jumped at the words, dropping the sewing, and then picking it up. But counting every blessing. Becoming dizzy with relief.

“And Hotspur himself?” asked your mother.

“Slain by an old, fat knight called Sir John Falstaff. All are surprised but Falstaff shall be honored as a hero,” the messenger answered.

You sat back on the chair, smiling. Feeling the urge to well up a tear of happiness. Hal lived! He lived!

As the sun dipped further, you expected no further visitors. Yet as you were visiting the kitchens, you heard a knock on the door. You were alone- no servants around to answer.

“Must be the new one. He gets himself locked out,” you mused.

You opened the door and let out a shriek at the sight.

Hal stood there in his armor. His face was bloodied and dirty. His hair wet to where his curls hung limp on his face. He was panting deeply. His black horse stood in the distance.

“Your grace! My lord! What are you doing here?!” you cried.

“My lady! Let me in-please!” he begged in a pant.

You opened the door further. You realized he was limping; you pulled a chair close for him to sit.

“I need the help of your mother-I’ve been hurt! And there’s no better healer than your mother,” he explained.

After giving him a cup of cider, you raced back up.

“Mother! Mother! Quick! The prince is here! Prince Hal! He’s hurt! He’s in the kitchen and he needs your help!” you cried.

Your mother dropped her jaw. Then, picking up her skirts, she ran down. You followed her.

“Your grace- tell us! What hurts?” she asked.

“My…my leg…” Hal said.

She inspected it, then looked at you.

“We need cloths-hot water. Get some bark of the willow- should help with his pain!” she ordered.

You ran out, scrambling to get the items. He took off his heavy armor that fell with a crash to the floor. You returned with the supplies. He nibbled on the bark, grimacing at the bitter taste. She cleaned the leg with wine, washed it, and wrapped a bandage about his leg.

“You must rest, your grace. It isn’t bad- should heal with time. What else hurts?” she asked.

“My…my chest…and my shoulder…” he said.

You both helped off his armor with more loud crashing onto the floor. Your mother then removed his shirt to inspect the wounds. He was a lean man- a stomach with some softness in it and such a broad chest and biceps. You felt a twinge of lust, light as a sprinkle of salt over a meal, enter you looking at him. Trying to keep your behavior appropriate (he was not just a man- but fie, the future king!), you forced your eyes onto the cut on his clavicle.

“Hmmm…some damage there. But not deep. And nothing vital. Shouldn’t be bad,” your mother diagnosed.

She handed you the bowl filled with wine.

“Y/N…I think you should practice. Could be good use. First tend the wounds with strong wine to clean it…” she instructed.

She handed over a bowl of water and bandages.

“And then…some of this to clean it out. Then wrap it in a bandage.”

“But Mother…I don’t know if I…”

“You’ve seen it hundreds of times, Y/N! Here- I will go and check my herb closet for whatever else could help. I will be back later!” she interrupted. She let out a smirk at you.

You leaned closer and whispered to her before she left for the door.

“But-unaccompanied!”

She shrugged, her smile becoming devilish with the show of teeth.

“The prince is not the kind to take advantage of young ladies alone. And it won’t be long! Go and nurse him, Y/N.”

She kept her smile at you as she left through the door. You first took one wash cloth and wiped the dirt from his face. He accepted it as easily as a child. His bright, blue eyes looked up at you, saying nothing.

“There…better to see you now,” you said.

With a deep sigh, you forced your eyes on the cut on his left pec and down the left shoulder. Focusing on the task and not the stirring inside you from being by a half-naked Hal. Or at least, trying.

You dipped the cloth into the wine and touched the pec wound. Hal winced a little.

“Not even royalty is immune to pain…” you commented.

“No, we are not…” he agreed.

You continued to wipe at it. Making sure the wine got rid of any infection.

“I’m glad you’re alive my lord.”

“I am too though…is it bad that I crave honor?” he asked.

You shook your head.

“You want to please your father. That I can imagine- I wish to please my mother, too. I want to live up to her as well.”

He shifted to keep his eye on you.

“But you do, my lady…you do!”

You set down the dirty cloth into the bowl of wine.

“And…I haven’t forgotten. My lady-look into the breastplate,” he guided.

“How come?” you asked, getting a cloth from the bowl of water. You rolled up your sleeves to squeeze the excess out.

“Your favor! I lived and I shall keep my word- it is yours again!”

You pressed the cloth to his wound.

“Hold it on there,” you advised.

He did as you retrieved the handkerchief. He was right- it was right there in his breastplate. A square of pure white among the silver. You picked it up, smelling his sweat on it- smelling him. Not that you minded the scent of masculine sweat and blood- blood that still coursed through him.

“My lord! I…thank you! I’m…I’m glad you are alive.”

“How come? Why should my death concern you, my lady?” he asked.

You turned around, both hands on your handkerchief again.

“Because…it would have been sad and…”

After some hesitancy, you added four words.

“I would mourn you.”

You then took the cloth back to the water. Blood stained the leftover water in the bowl. You then got a dry bandage. But Hal softened his gaze on you.

“All of my great shames…and I am worth your tears, Lady Y/N?”

When you wrapped it around and tied it up, you turned back to him. Seeing the shiny drop of a small tear in the corners of the prince’s eyes.

“Yes, my lord, I would…”

He then lifted his hand and placed it over yours, stopping it from moving away. You paused, not daring to take another step away. You didn’t want to- not from the feel of his touch.

“When we’re alone…could you call me Hal?” he asked.

“Yes, Hal, I can,” you replied.

He smiled.

“Oh, to live now and hear you say it!”

He cupped your face and then kissed you. You dropped leftover bandages in your hand from surprise. You felt his breath and tasted smoke and sweat. He wrapped a hand around you to keep you there. You leaned into it, feeling everything explode inside you, grabbing his face too to keep it close. Your inhibitions running wild, and all sense of decorum thrown out the window. All for the love of a prince.

He let go. You picked up the cloth again, smiling at him. His face was flushing and smiling back.

“Hal…that was…that was…” you mumbled.

“I’m sorry I frightened you, my lady. I should have asked, I-“

“No- that was beautiful!” you said.

He leaned closer to you.

“Then I should do it more.”

He then let go as your mother returned through the door. With her herb basket placed at her hip. She walked forward. With false chastity, you took a few steps away and he jerked his head to her.

“I trust His Grace is better,” she said.

He looked at you.

“Much.”

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winterchimez · 5 months

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Redemption of Love - Chapter 2

SUMMARY: Choi Chanhee—better known as the Phantom of the Opera, has dominated the Paris Opera House with his lifelong partner, Christine Daae, for years. Until one fateful day, an incident forces them to be separated and never to be reunited again.

Decades later, you have begun your journey here at the famous opera house with the help of your fiancé, Lee Sangyeon. After several performances, it was then that you would come face-to-face with the renowned phantom himself, and he is determined to never let you go again, convinced that you were his long-lost partner whom he has not seen in many years.

It is now your choice to make. To give your heart to the once-forgotten phantom? Or to stand firm and marry the love of your life.

PAIRING: phantom of the opera Chanhee x singer f!reader x fiancé Sangyeon

GENRE & WARNINGS: phantom of the opera au, angst, supernatural, thriller, crime, fluff, time travel, reincarnation, major & minor character deaths, otome, pg-13

WORD COUNT: 2,417

A/N: hi hello! it's been a while since ive updated this and i apologise for that 😭 but Chanhee finally makes his appearance in this one so yall better buckle up 👀

It was thirty minutes before the show was about to start, and everyone was getting their final bits done, doing some final touchups on their makeup, and even ensuring the props were placed in their right positions. You were getting ready as you decided to move closer to the stage and slightly peered at what was out there.

The hall was filled and packed with audiences despite still having ample time before the show began. With that, you were now a nervous wreck. You feel your legs go numb, and your heartbeat is ten times faster than you would usually feel before getting ready for a performance.

Sure, you are considered one of the seasoned backup dancers for the opera house, but never once have you had to step in for an actual lead role and perform at one of the world’s renowned opera houses and in front of thousands of audiences.

Suddenly, you felt a string of knots form within your belly. You were so nervous that your anxiety kicked to the point that you needed to wrap your arms around yourself to refrain from causing a scene backstage.

That was when you felt a hand on your shoulder; it was Avaleigh.

“Honestly, Avaleigh. This is such a bad idea, I know I shouldn’t have—”

“Calm down, Y/N. Remember the breathing exercises we’ve always done whenever we did warm-ups together before rehearsals?” Avaleigh cut you off and tried her best to calm you down, reassuring you that everything would be alright.

“B-but, what if I don’t perform the way Madame would? The crowd would surely be disappointed, especially with how she has been the face of the Opera House for a decade now.”

“Y/N, this isn’t about Madame. It’s all about you portraying your best out there. You don’t have to live in Madame’s shadows or take over her personality. You go out there and just be yourself, exactly like how you’ve proved Mr Arnaud and Mr Arquette this morning.”

With one gentle slap to your back to wake you up from your senses, Avaleigh gave you one last smile before returning backstage to reunite with the other dancers as the lights began to dim in the auditorium, indicating that the show was about to start.

That was it. The stage was now all yours as you had to step out to sing the opening act before the rest of the cast members would join you in the following act.

Taking a few deep breaths, you constantly reassured yourself that everything would be alright.

You proved yourself worthy and finally got the chance to be in the spotlight after many months, Y/N. It is truly your time to shine now.

When the lights went off throughout the theatre, it was your time to move towards the center of the stage within five seconds before the spotlight would eventually shine down on you.

You counted internally as you moved towards your spot; eventually, the spotlight shone upon you.

Sure enough, you heard a few gasps throughout the entire theatre. There was no doubt that people expected Madame Indivus to be the one up on stage, not some other actresses who would replace her at the last minute. Through the corners of your eyes, you noticed how several people began whispering amongst each other, and that just made the knot in your stomach feel ten times worse than before.

That was until you landed your eyes upon your fiancé sitting below in the first few rows close to the stage. There was this look in his eyes that just calmed down your nerves almost instantly. He mouthed a little, “you can do it, love,” before giving you his signature smile, which you always loved and would make everything seem bearable even during tough times.

Returning a smile, you lifted your head high before finally opening your mouth to sing aloud, just as you presented yourself during the rehearsals.

Slowly, you began to relax your shoulders and felt all of the tension between your joints being released. This was when you finally let loose and portrayed your best talents that you have had for so long.

Almost instantly, smiles were plastered across the audience’s faces, giving you enough confidence to boost yourself and move on as you began singing the opening act smoothly as you practised.

Maybe, I could do this after all.

The show went on fairly smoothly and quickly for the next two hours, and you and your whole cast received a standing ovation at the end of the show. With you being in the center of the spotlight, it was a sign to you that the people have accepted you to be part of the leading actresses in the opera house, and so did both Mr Arnaud and Mr Arquette, who were both sitting in one of the stalls at the side that were always reserved for them both.

Your fiancé joined along with the crowd, throwing you a rose to the stage while the rest of the audience followed, indicating that it was all a successful show as all of you bowed and the curtains were laid slowly down on stage.

Immediately, your cast members were beyond proud and happy to be working with you for the upcoming shows, and they couldn’t wait to see what the next show would be before the opera house would be off for a week.

After some light refreshments and talking amongst each other, you slowly returned to your dressing room, turning the doorknob and opening the door to see the man you have longed for.

You immediately jumped into his arms as he caught you, spinning around in a few circles before placing you back down.

“You did so well, Y/N. Did you know that you were magnificent and captivating up there?”

“Now that’s rude. I thought I was always beautiful in your eyes.” You sulked.

“Of course, I was just joking; you know how much I love you, Y/N. You outperformed yourself up there. It brought me back to when we were both young and performing together in university,” Sangyeon remarked.

“Hey, we aren’t that old yet!” You were about to gently slap the man on the arm, seemingly waking him up from reality.

“Okay okay, miss Y/N,” he chuckled before he pulled out something that he had been hiding behind his back. “I got these for you.”

It was a bouquet of flowers, not just any flowers, but ones that you have always adored, lilies.

You took the bouquet in your hand, and you couldn’t help but bring it forth to whiff the fresh scent. “Aww, Sangyeon, you didn’t have to.”

“Just so you know, I handpicked these lilies myself. They came all the way from Romania, so you bet how hard I’ve taken care of them myself during my stay there and on the train back.” Sangyeon exclaimed, lifting his head up high as if he wanted the world to know that he had done such a good deed and needed to be praised aloud.

You giggled at the sight of your fiancé being childish in front of you, which you have gotten used to ever since you both started dating. It was a little something that you enjoyed, to be quite frankly. He was a pretty goofy guy, after all.

With that, you slowly placed the bouquet down into the white vase right by your vanity area, all while your fiancé approached you to give you a tight backhug.

“Say, Y/N. I’ve booked us a fancy dinner down at Bouillon Chartier. Care to join me for some candlelight dinner?”

“Why, of course, young man.”

You both broke off the hug and linked hands as you exited the room, turning off all the lights until you heard a faint voice.

Christine…christine…

“Y/N, is something wrong?”

As much as you swore you heard it, you did not want to make it a big deal or cause a commotion. Hence, you reassured that everything was fine and convinced yourself that it was probably all because of the fatigue you had been dealing with for the day.

Stepping out of the room, you slowly grabbed the doorknob before fully closing the door, hoping it was all in your mind.

Since that day, the audience has demanded that the opera house cast you in more shows for the remaining seasons. As a result, swarms of letters began to pile up in the office, leaving Mr Arnaud and Mr Arquette with no choice but to adhere to the public’s cries and wishes. Given that Madame Indivus was not returning for quite a while, they had no choice but to roster you as the lead female singer and actress until the season ends.

With that, you have been cast and performed a handful of productions since that first day. Thankfully, your confidence got better, and so did your performance on stage. The public now absolutely adored you, and your face would be plastered all across the Opera House, even up to the streets of Paris.

Of course, you were beyond grateful for that, as it has been your dream to finally perform at the famous Paris Opera House. It was why you even took up your studies in performing arts at Conservatoire de Paris in the first place.

Undoubtedly, your times at the facility were becoming much more prominent and memorable. You were able to get close to your cast members and break the ice between them, ensuring all of you worked together as a team to give the best performance for the season.

At the same time, your fiancé was now back with you in Paris, and he was doing as much as he could to support you and the opera house with his connections to the best of his abilities. There was nothing better than having him back with you in your arms.

However, amidst your grand success in the limelight, something eerie and terrifying has also been bothering you.

It seemed as if the voice you heard the other day in the dressing room was far beyond the last. Ever since your first grand performance, the voice has become much more prominent and frequent, even getting slightly louder each time you hear it. Given that most of the time, you would be in your dressing room alone to get ready for a show, the tension and air were significantly eerie, even making it hard to breathe at times.

Making sure you weren’t hallucinating, you went about the whole opera house, asking everyone if they had ever heard a mysterious voice. To your surprise, none of them has ever heard of such an occurrence; some even mentioned that it was all in your head, and you couldn’t blame them.

You tried getting your best friend, Avaleigh to return to your room one evening to see if she could hear anything at all. It turns out that your efforts were wasted, and there was no point trying to convince her because the tension in the air shifted once there was more than one person in the room.

With that, your only hope was your fiancé, Sangyeon.

After the final performance of the season, you insisted that Sangyeon were to visit your dressing room almost immediately once the audience began to head out to the exit.

Judging from your facial expressions as he entered the room, he knew something was fairly wrong.

“Y/N, have you been too exhausted lately? Is having back-to-back shows too much for you? If yes, I could always talk to Mr—”

“Sangyeon. Whatever I’m about to tell you now, please listen closely and carefully.” You cut him off before taking a huge breath, trying to cough up the words you have been desperately trying to tell him.

“I think…that there’s a ghost in this room.”

There was a silent pause before Sangyeon eventually cracked up in a burst of laughter.

“You must be insane, Y/N. I’m sure it’s definitely got to do with you being exhausted—”

“I’m not joking, Sangyeon! I’m serious; I have heard voices since that first day!” You exclaimed, trying your best to prove your point.

But clearly, your fiancé was not having it. “Y/N, ghosts aren’t real. There’s absolutely no way that you have been hearing things.”

“Oh yeah? Then let me prove it to you.”

With that, you placed your fingers onto his lips, silencing him. The room was quiet now, and you waited a few minutes, hoping the voice would reappear.

But it was to no avail.

Sangyeon sighed before gently taking your fingers away. “Y/N, babe. Let’s just go home now, shall we? I’ll have to meet with Mr Arnaud and Mr Arquette to discuss a few matters first, then I’ll be back to pick you up.”

You sighed, disappointed that you couldn’t even earn your fiancé’s trust.

As he left the room, you started packing your things away as you prepared to wait for his return.

That was until you heard the voice again.

Christine…christine…

However, it was getting louder this time.

Christine…CHRISTINE!

What was going on?

CHRISTINE!!!

With that scream, you turned to face your mirror, which was situated right by your vanity area. Sure enough, a dark figure, wearing a mask covering half his face, emerged from the reflection.

He reached out his hands to you.

“Christine…come to me…” the voice called out pleadingly, desperate and sad, wanting you to grant his wishes.

Indeed, there was no one else in this room, and you figured that “Christine” has got to be you.

You slowly walked towards the mirror before giving a soft, gentle reply. “Are you…calling for me?”

“Yes…I have been wanting to meet you for so long…”

“Umm…but who are you—”

“It is not safe to speak here…come with me…I will tell you everything…”

Well, a little trip to find the answers wouldn’t hurt after all.

With that, you slowly reached out your hand before the figure in the mirror extended theirs so that it was peaking out of the mirror now, grabbing firmly yet gently onto yours as he pulled you in closer, guiding you to enter into the mirror.

Just like that, your dressing room was now empty, with no one around, and you were being led further down into God knows where, your vision fully clouded and dark.

“Oh Christine, how long have I finally waited to be reunited with you.”

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wherebutterfliesneverdie13ghosts · 2 years

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IV. Yours Forever

A/N: I know, I know. It's been a bit. I have this story planned; It took a bit to figure out how I wanted to write it. And I finally figured out that instead of going in one fluid line, past to present, I'm going to jump back and forth and even do flashbacks. I think it will make the story less difficult to write.

So, this chapter takes place October 1 st , 2001, approximately 44 years, 2 months, and 27 days (excluding the end date) since Royce and Emily's murders and then it jumps back to February 1955 when our ghostly lovers are alive and fifteen.

WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: Sappy romantic stuff between two teens (alive and dead), violence, and language.

Also, some hints of Emily's ability are given in this chapter

The song Emily is playing on the piano in this chapter is "The Portrait" by James Horner. It fit with the emotions I was trying to convey in this chapter.

The Present

"Em!" Royce was about to lose what was left of his sanity if his sweet doll did not manifest her ectoplasmic behind into his sight within the span of the next five minutes. "Emmy! Where did you go?!"

He'd been looking for her for an hour. She never strayed too far away from him. As he slowly began to descend into his thoughts, trying to recall anything he might have said or done to upset her, he was saved from the black hole of his mind by a humming.

A small orb appeared in the clearing in front of him.

One of Emily's purple butterflies. They consisted entirely of glowing purple light and hummed a sweet tune he could not place, and she could manifest them and cause them to disappear at will. This one was clearly trying to lead Royce to her, so he followed the tiny creature to an area he knew very well.

Emily sat before their shared tombstone, large, and made of shining black granite, situated beneath the largest – and only – weeping willow tree in all Crescent Valley.

He observed the words he could see from his vantage point.

Royce Matthew Clayton April 2 nd , 1940 – July 4 th , 1957

And right next to him on the stone

Emily Alice Clayton April 8 th , 1940 – July 4 th , 1957

"It was sweet of our parents to have us legally married after we died, huh?"

He took a seat behind her on the grass and pulled her into his lap, nuzzling his face into her hair, the silky strands feeling like heaven against the torn skin of his face.

"We were engaged, kitten," he nipped at her neck gently. "And we were hardly ever apart."

"I think that horrendous fourth was the only time in three years we'd ever been apart."

"I still can't believe Emilia really thought that Johnny would have it in him to kill someone," Royce shook his head, remembering the pained expression on his enemy's face as the heat of the flames licked at him as he had struggled to free Royce from the wreckage of his car. "After I helped him clean up the mess he made of Ricky, we came to an uncomfortable truce of sorts."

At the mention of her, Emily's small face darkened, her fingers clenching in the material of her skirt. Eerie violin music echoed through the air as the wind picked up, the earth almost seeing to roll beneath them.

"Easy, kitten," he tightened his grip, pressing his lips to her temple as he spoke. "You don't want to cause another storm."

She took a deep, unnecessary breath before settling back against him and looking out at the field below them as Royce began to play with a strand of her hair, curling it around his finger before releasing it and then repeating the motion.

It had always been one of his favorite things to do.

February 20th, 1955 March Mansion Crescent Valley, Ohio

Royce watched from the chaise as Emily's fingers glided gracefully over the ivory keys of her parents' piano, one of her black curls escaping from her pinned hair and brushing against her cheek. Occasionally, she would pause to write something in the musical staffs in the open book in front of her before going right back to it.

He didn't know why she was fixing it. It sounded beautiful.

"Thank you," his eyes grew a bit wide when he realized he must have spoken out loud without meaning to. She turned to face him. "But its not quite perfect yet."

She patted the bench next to her.

"I'm not going to bite you now that we're dating, you know."

He stood up and glanced around before walking over and taking a seat beside her, close enough that their shoulders were touching. She smiled softly at him, giving him a sweet, featherlight kiss on his lips, before returning to her task. His heart fluttered against his ribs like a hummingbird at the gesture.

To distract himself from his wandering thoughts, Royce reached up and unpinned her hair, the black waves of hair falling to rest above her shoulders. He began to play with one of the strands, curling and uncurling it from his finger as he tried not to stare at her face.

He was so ridiculously in love with the girl next to him. She could ask him for the moon, and he would do whatever it took to obtain it for her. Emily would never ask him to do such a thing, of course, because she was a logical person who knew such a feat was impossible. But even so, Royce would give her the world if she desired it. Even as children, he could never say no to her. And she seemed to be the only person on the entire planet that could get him to calm down when he lost his temper.

Everybody else just got the hell out of the way.

But not his Emmy. No. She wasn't afraid of him like everybody else. Even his own parents strived not to upset him if they thought it could be avoided.

Movement from the entryway to the room drew his gaze where he met the enraged eyes of Emilia March. He merely rolled his own and went back to what he was doing, seeing her turn and storm off out of his peripheral vision.

"She's not happy."

Emily did not look up or stop playing as she spoke.

Royce shrugged and continued playing with her hair.

"Are you happy?"

That one drew him up short and he looked at her.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye but merely shrugged and continued what she was doing until his hand stopped hers and made her look at him.

"Answer the question please," he gripped her chin gently with his thumb and index finger. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

She shook her head and looked down, making him sigh and cup her small face between his hands.

"You have no idea," he shook his head with a disbelieving chuckle. "No concept at all of how devastatingly perfect you are."

She shook her head. "Stop."

"It's true, Emily. You know," he paused briefly before continuing. "Johnny has a crush on you," the words leaving his mouth had hatred curling in his gut, but he bit it back. They had hated each other for years over a girl. Being on opposite sides of society did not help, of course, but Emily was the root cause. "Several of my teammates." All of whom valued their limbs and quality of life over their desires, luckily for them. "Point being, you don't see yourself clearly at all, kitten."

Her bright green eyes penetrated his blue ones as he continued.

"I could live a thousand years and never deserve you, Emily," she reached up and rested her hand on his cheek. "But I am so grateful you were willing to give me a chance to try, despite the fact that I am a mess of pride and rage - "

She surprised him when she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, the hand on his cheek sliding around to tangle in the hair on the back of his head, her sweet kisses saying more than any words could. And Royce was okay with that.

A/N: Yes, yes, I know. I am sorry it took so long. But honestly, the lack of interest shown in this story by others kind of robbed me of inspiration for a bit. But a PM I got the other day rekindled it, so here this chapter is.

Reviews are appreciated.

#13 ghosts #thir13en ghosts fanfiction #13 ghosts fanfiction #thir13en ghosts #royce clayton #royce clayton and emily march #where butterflies never die #1950s

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ledenews · 2 years

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Buckeye Local Coach Hoover: 'We Are Not In This for Moral Victories'

Buckeye Local takes its 2-4 record on the road Friday night to face unbeaten Caldwell. Wait. What? Ten years ago, that statement would have raised a few eyebrows; not that Caldwell was undefeated, but why was Buckeye playing Caldwell. Ten years ago, Buckeye Local was in Division III and despite finishing 4-6, beat John Marshall, a Class 5A school in the OVAC and a Division II equivalent in Ohio. Caldwell? The Redskins were down in Division VI, back when the OHSAA classifications consisted of just six divisions. Now? Buckeye is back in Division IV after spending five years in Division V. Caldwell is still in the state's smallest division, now D-VII. The enrollment cutoff for D-IV is 202. The Panthers have 213. They are closer to Division V than they are Division III. Much closer. Caldwell has 101. A quick scan of the Panthers schedule will see other similarly situated schools. There are no Division IV teams on it. There are five D-V schools, one in VI, and five in VII. Yes, half of the schedule is comprised of teams from the state's smallest division. You know what else? The team's on Buckeye's schedule are a combined 42-18. Four of the teams are still unbeaten in Barnesville, Union Local, Edison, and Caldwell. Shenandoah, which just came back to defeat Buckeye 42-36 last week, is 5-1. Only two teams have losing records right now which also happens to be the Panthers' two wins thus far. But in fairness, both Shadyside (1-5) and Monroe Central (1-5) have traditionally strong programs. This is head coach Jim Hoover's second season in charge after serving as the defensive coordinator during the COVID year in 2020. The Panthers joined the Mid-Ohio Valley League prior to Hoover's first season, so the current schedule was set upon his ascension. Small schools or not, it's a good, competitive schedule. “I think it's a pretty tough schedule,” Hoover recently noted. “We have Barnesville which is undefeated, Union Local, Edison, Caldwell are undefeated. Shenandoah has one loss. Toronto has two losses. Harrison two. “That schedule was in place since I took over. We play teams like Shenandoah and Caldwell anyway because they are in the conference. But we may lighten it up some in the near future.” Rebuilding the Program It's been a slow crawl back to respectability over the last 12 years for the Panthers program. Following that final year in Division III, the Panthers had a six-year stretch with just two wins total. They finished 1-9 in both 2013 and 2014, and then went an entire graduating class' length of time, from 2015 to 2018, without a win. That's not easy to come back from because, while winning may be contagious, so is losing, and year after year of double digit losses and zero wins can start to cast a dark shadow over a program. It hurts the culture, the confidence level and, at a school with declining enrollment, it can negatively affect interest level. High school athletes who love playing football will generally come out, no matter the circumstances or status of a program - they love the game and are going to play it - but what about the good players, the average or marginal players? They may not fill the stat sheet, but they can help the program as solid, dependable starters, capable backups, and growing reserves that are waiting for their chance to shine. These average players may opt to play another sport, or none at all, as opposed to putting in all that hard work only to go 0-10 every season. That's not how you build interest and not how you rebuild a program and that's why Hoover isn't concerned at all if anyone questions the teams currently on the Panthers' schedule, nor if they complain about any potential changes to lighten the load. “To be honest, I really don't care what people think (of our schedule),” Hoover said. “I played for Buckeye North back in the 1980s. I know who we played. I know who Buckeye South played. I don't care what they think. “I'm trying to rebuild and do what's best for our program.” While Buckeye doesn't open with Martins Ferry any longer, the two rivals did meet in a scrimmage before the season started. Photo by Nessa Kae Photography Changing the Culture Hoover starred at North and graduated in 1989, going on to excel for four years at Eastern Michigan. He may not be a Buckeye Local grad, but these are still his people, hailing from one of the schools that combined to form Buckeye Local. He knows the history and the success. And make no mistake, Buckeye has experienced success as a program, the pinnacle of which was the 13-1 season in 1994 when the Ron Pobolish-led Panthers finished 13-1, falling to Chardon 17-6 in the state championship game. The last unbeaten regular season came in 2003, when Northwest abruptly and rudely ended Buckeye's playoff hopes in Round 1 via a 53-0 defeat. Buckeye didn't see the playoffs again until a two-year stretch between 2008-09, finishing 7-4 and 8-3, respectively, losing both times in the first round of the playoffs. After 2009, there's been only one winning season, a 6-4 mark in 2011. So for any of the old timers who remember Buckeye playing, and beating, Wheeling Park and John Marshall and Martins Ferry, those days are long gone. “They think we'll benefit from playing St. Clairsville, Wheeling Park, Big Red, and all that does is have us go week in and week out getting our brains beat in,” Hoover said. “We're trying to rebuild our program. Look at what Edison is doing. They watered down the schedule some, but those kids are playing with confidence and they are winning.” Edison too experienced success in the past but has also dealt with declining enrollment and success on the field. The Wildcats, however, are currently 6-0 and rated No. 5 in Division V, Region 17. The Wildcats' schedule? There is one Division III team in winless Woodward, three D-IVs, one D-V, and like Buckeye, seven D-VII schools. Hoover applauded the success current Edison coach Mike Collopy is having. They are both focusing on the now, and the future of the programs. Winning builds confidence, along with interest which, in turn, builds numbers and increased success. And that's how Buckeye will rebuild its program. It may require a little patience, but the Panthers are moving in the right direction. That's why Hoover wasn't happy following the loss to the Zeps. His team led 14-0 early and let the lead slip away. There are no moral victories, and Hoover, his staff, and players, certainly are no longer satisfied with simply playing well or keeping the game competitive. They are out there to win. They put in the long hours in the weight room, on the practice field, sweating during two-a-days, to win. Anything less is doing a disservice to all that hard work. Hoover won't have it. His players are starting to believe and feel that way too. That's progress. That's what it'll take to make winning seasons a regularity in southern Jefferson County once again. “We are not in this for moral victories,” Hoover said. “That's been the culture. Some are satisfied with that, but that's what we have to change. “We played hard, but didn't play well enough to win.” Read the full article

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ladyartemesia · 3 years

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The Luna

◐ PART VII of THE ALPHA ◐

◐ Series Masterlist ◐

◐ Part I ◐ Part II ◐ Part III ◐ Part IV ◐ Part V ◐ Part VI ◐

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Jimin x Omega Reader

Rating: Hard Mature 18+ (for this installment)

Warnings: this one is a little darker... implied violence, mentions of blood, ABO sexual dynamics including discussion of scenting, marking, mating, and claiming, sexual innuendo, discussion of violence relating to ritual combat, possessive behavior, injuries and discussion of injuries, discussions or ruts, (non-explicit) kidnapping and drugging, its not as bad as it sounds, but it is definitely a bit darker...

Word Count: 4200

Author’s Note: You have no idea what your support has meant to me. After getting the dreaded Covid it was awhile before I had the energy to work on this. Truly your asks and your messages and comments...they made me so happy. You made me believe that people wouldn’t forget about this story. I am so grateful you were able to wait. As always, my angels @ppersonna @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @underthejoon were the best betas and the best friends anyone could ask for. My thanks to ALL of you for helping me bring this story to life! I don’t know what I would do without your daily encouragement and your daily support. You guys are the heartbeat of this story.

———◐———

Fifteen Years Ago...

———◐———

“It can’t be-”

“Run for the elders! Quickly!

“Red smoke rises from the Luna’s hearth!”

The red smoke was invented by the first wolf known to mate a witch. Legend has it that their bond lent him some of her magic and with it he created a mystical powder that unleashed bloody plumes like knife slashes in the clouds.

It was a distress call.

A wolf in danger or in need could throw the powder (usually into their fireplace) and the red smoke would rise - drawing others to their aid.

No fire was needed and the strange shimmering clouds it produced could even be seen on a moonless night.

“What happened? Where is the Luna?”

The chief elder was still out of breath, having charged over from his chambers to find Isa in hysterics.

“She’s gone! Something scared her! It triggered a half-shift!”

His eyes widened in fear and alarm.

“She’s too young to half-shift. The energy it would take-”

Isa broke into sobs again.

The girl was only five years old. She and her wolf were too volatile to merge safely. The wolf would be frightened - it would run.

Eventually the child might regain control, but she would have no way of knowing where she was or how she got there…

And she would be weak. The effects of the shift were too much for a pup that age.

The chief elder felt true terror grip his heart.

“Call for the alphas - immediately!”

Although they were technically one of the oldest bloodlines in the village, Park Clan had only five families to its name - all betas.

Except for one.

Park Jimin was the first alpha ever born to the Parks and as such he became the head of his family on the day of his birth - officially the youngest clan leader in history.

When the call for alphas spread through the village, nine year-old Jimin was roused from his bed to serve on behalf of his people.

Clan alphas were required to report, regardless of their age.

“I don’t have to tell any of you what is at stake. Our pack has been entrusted with the Luna’s bloodline. Her safety is our sacred commission.”

The woods were no place for a child. If fluctuating temperatures and possible starvation weren’t bad enough, there were wild bears, packless ferals, rogue witches, snakes, and worst of all-

Unblessed wolves—animals without a human heart. They were by far the most pressing danger to the little girl.

“Surely young Park can remain at home for this,” Jeon Jinseok pressed. The boy was barely older than his grandson, Jungkook, and he was reluctant to endanger another pup needlessly.

Some quiet murmurs of assent could be heard around the elder’s chambers, however the chief elder himself shook his head sadly.

“I understand your concern… but the law is the law. Every clan alpha is sworn to such a task. He took an oath after his first transformation-”

“He was seven-”

“An oath is still an oath.”

All eyes turned to the gentle voice in the corner. The Park alpha looked impossibly small and soft.

But his gaze burned with determination.

“It is my right and duty to seek the Luna alongside all of you.” His round little jaw clenched stubbornly. “I’m not afraid.”

The sound of bones and sinew shifting filled the air as one by one the clan alphas fell to their wolf forms and took off into the forest.

Until only a small silver wolf remained.

The chief elder sighed.

The boy would not undergo the Change for another six years. The mental link between his wolf and human forms was not yet complete. It was difficult for information to pass from one to the other.

“You are the wolf force of Park Jimin.”

After a moment the wolf nodded.

“You were called here because the Luna has gone missing and you must find her if you can. Search the woods until your wolf force can endure no longer and then return. If you find the child, bring her home as soon as possible.”

The young wolf nodded again and then disappeared into the night.

It was cold.

The last thing you remembered was a loud noise. It was too close - you panicked-

Then there was heat and pain and running and now this-

Darkness and barren trees looming over you as far as your frightened eyes could see.

“...Hello?”

Your hands were bleeding. Tears began to slide softly down your cheek as your lips trembled.

“H-Hello?”

Jimin had never been allowed into the forest alone. A myriad of new shapes and odd smells assaulted his senses as he ran.

He had only seen you a handful of times.

Bright silver eyes with a smile that could set even the coldest heart into bloom.

Now you needed him.

And he was going to save you.

It was not a question or a matter of chance in his mind. He was meant to find you. It was as if a thread from his chest was bound to a thread from yours and his wolf knew to follow it without question or thought for its significance.

I’m coming, little Luna. Hold on.

Your nose was not yet fully developed, but the stench creeping through the air toward you was unmistakable.

Unblessed.

A soulless wolf.

The last time you encountered it was after a hunt. Your father killed one who attacked him and he brought it home for you to scent.

So you could recognize the smell of danger.

Gradually two shining eyes emerged from the darkness, yet unlike the wolves of your village, these were dark and fathomless-

Hungry.

You couldn’t tell much about its age or coloring, it was too thin - too dirty, but the bared teeth and steady progress closer signaled its intent clearly.

“Please,” you whispered, as it crouched back on its hind legs, preparing to strike.

Tears blurred your vision as you heard it leap forward.

But the strike never came.

Another wolf tackled it to the ground before it could reach you. The two of them tangled viciously in the moonlight; a terrifying mass of snarling and claws.

The smaller fighter was already bleeding, but he clamped down on his opponent’s throat in the first hit and hung on to it even as the animal snapped and scratched brutally at his skin.

Jimin could feel his strength beginning to fail him. The pain was excruciating, but he had to endure. If he let go, he was lost-

You were lost.

So he held.

And at last the soulless wolf collapsed on top of him.

For a moment, all was quiet.

Jimin felt the wounds over his hide begin to tug at the edge of his consciousness. Accelerated healing could only do so much... He was hurt badly.

Then two small hands began to push at the unblessed corpse. Small huffs and heaves poured from you as you worked to free him from beneath his defeated foe.

“Don’t be afraid, Silver,” you grunted, “Momma says the healing works best if you can get warm.”

With one final heave you disposed of the beast as best you could, then moved to wrap your body around your injured champion.

“I can help,” you whispered, letting the tears fall freely. His soft whimpers were the only reply you received as you snuggled in closer, running your hands gently over the soft fur.

The young wolf’s eyes were already beginning to lose focus.

“Please goddess,” you begged into the night. “Please save him.”

Then the two of you drifted into a heavy sleep.

Jimin opened his eyes again just as the dawn broke.

He was still in wolf form, but the pain of his injuries had lessened considerably.

Either that or he was becoming numb.

His eyes dropped to the figure curled up next to him and his heart stirred. You were so pale… and he could feel your small body shivering violently against his chest.

She will not last much longer...

It took nearly everything he had to stand to his feet and nudge you awake.

“Will you bring me back, Silver?” you asked weakly.

Jimin nodded and the two of you stumbled forward into the forest, trusting the vague recollections of his wolf instincts to lead you home.

Isa was beside herself with worry. Wolves came and went throughout the night-

But there was still no sign of you.

And the odds of a child surviving the woods alone with no heat and no protection were slim at best.

Her hands shook as she gathered feed for the horses from the storeroom near the back of the house. She willed herself to complete the task - any task - in an effort to busy her mind and perhaps achieve a moment of respite.

Her hand closed around the back door handle and she started forward - only to nearly lose her balance over something lying on the porch.

The bucket of feed dropped from her grasp, sending kernels of grain in all directions.

Two bodies lay in a heap at her feet, clutching one another desperately. The Luna and her silver wolf were covered in matted blood and dirt.

But they were alive.

Isa began to scream, drawing out the other two occupants of the house; her husband Roojin and his younger sister, a beta healer named Ryn.

“Oh my goddess,” Ryn gasped, “that’s the Park alpha! I heard some of the elders saying that he hadn’t checked in last night!”

“Get them inside. If we don’t act quickly we could lose them.”

Roojin tried to lift you away from the wolf, but the action was enough to rouse you and you immediately began to kick and scream frantically.

“No! I won’t leave him!” you sobbed, wrapping your body even tighter around the injured pup. “Silver, wake up! Please wake up!”

“Baby you need to let him go! We have to treat him!”

But you were frantic, refusing - violently - to be separated from your rescuer.

Ryn was eventually forced to grab a syringe from her field kit to sedate you.

Isa carried your limp body to the fireplace and began to peel off your wet clothes while Ryn and Roojin dealt with Jimin’s injuries in the kitchen. Blood dripped over the tabletop and puddled ominously on the floor while they worked.

“It looks like he was attacked.” Ryn’s eyes began to water. “What a brave little boy.”

“How the hell did he survive this?”

“I don’t know, but without a healing touch he’ll die.” She ripped her gloves off and rolled up her sleeves. “Stand back.”

Twenty minutes later Isa and Roojin caught the young healer as her legs gave out from under her. She had poured the majority of her energy into restoring the young Park alpha - perhaps more than was strictly safe-

But he would survive and that was all that mattered.

“I must contact the elders,” Isa murmured as she helped Ryn to a seat near the hearth. “In all the chaos I forgot to tell them that we found her.”

Roojin sighed, letting his eyes drift back to the table.

“That pup brought her back, but I wonder if they’ll even believe it. I wouldn’t - not if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

“No...” Ryn whispered from the chair. “You can’t tell them about the boy.”

“Why not? He’s the only reason she’s still alive. He deserves to be recognized.”

“You don’t understand,” she shook her head weakly. “His clan is nothing. They have no power - no other alphas. This will make him a target. The alpha pups will challenge him and the stronger clans will see him as a threat to their influence…”

She pulled herself upright and limped over to the table where the young wolf slept.

“But he's just a child….and small for his age at that. He has no powerful clansmen to protect him from the ramifications of this.”

Her hands clenched to fists.

“When his human form returns, he won’t remember saving the Luna. We’ll take him to his mother’s home at nightfall - make it seem like he wandered back. He may garner some respect for surviving the woods, but then they’ll leave him alone… and he can go on living his life in peace.”

Ryn turned to face them both with a determined expression.

“We owe him that.”

“Where is the silver wolf? Where have you taken him?”

As soon as the sedative wore off you reached for the boy once again, only to find that he was gone.

“The silver wolf was hurt very badly, sweetheart. Your aunt carried him away to be treated.”

“I have to go with him! He needs me!”

“No, honey - you can’t-”

Isa pulled you into her arms and you collapsed into helpless sobs. The last twenty-four hours had finally caught up with you.

You were too weak to fight back.

“Luna… the silver wolf is in danger. Are you willing to keep him safe?”

You nodded fiercely, letting the flow of your tears soak through your mother’s sleeves.

“Then you must never tell another soul that the silver wolf saved you. No one can know that he was with you in the forest.”

Your eyes narrowed in confusion.

“But-”

“You will tell everyone that you found the way back alone. Do not mention the silver wolf.”

Isa lifted your chin till your eyes met hers.

“Promise me, Luna.”

Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest as you thought of your champion. He had spared you from a gruesome fate and you did not even know his name.

You wanted so desperately to thank him.

Last night, you were so cold - so afraid - that you hadn’t said it...

Now you never could.

So instead you would protect him - no matter what it cost.

“I promise.”

———◐———

Today...

———◐———

“I don’t like him.”

Jimin tilted his head slightly toward his best friend.

“Who?”

Taehyung took a long sip of water then moved his hand to cover his mouth. To an outside observer he would appear to be wiping excess liquid from his lips.

“The senior envoy from the Iron Claw pack.” He shook his head. “Something about him is off. He’s ill at ease.”

All the major packs of the mountain nations dispatched representatives to greet and solidify their relations with the new Alpha.

Any pack who failed to send a proper delegation risked a diplomatic incident.

The first twenty-four hours held great significance when it came to the transfer of power. The official term for the tradition-packed period between the revelation of the Alpha and his ultimate reunion with the Luna was called “The King’s New Moon.”

The new moon was the darkest phase of the lunar cycle and the immediate separation from his mate was meant to be a test of the Alpha’s restraint and bearing.

Jimin wanted to put his fist through a wall.

He missed you.

Fighting Namjoon was nothing compared to the torture of this bureaucratic circus.

As the day progressed he was extremely grateful to have Yoongi and Taehyung at his side. Yoongi agreed to act as interim Praetor while Namjoon recovered and he and Taehyung were quick to fill in any knowledge gaps Jimin had with regards to protocol.

The first round of ceremonial greetings between packs dragged on more than an hour before the bell struck for a brief recess. In fact, until Taehyung’s rather strange pronouncement, nearly every moment played out with boring predictability.

Though there was one notable surprise.

Apparently the Iron Claw pack had just undergone a change of leadership and was now under the command of a female alpha named Azira Kai.

Authority in the Iron Claw pack was traditionally decided through combat, and Azira beat nearly thirty-five challengers to ascend as queen.

Female alphas were extraordinarily rare. Jimin knew they existed, but Azira was the first one he’d ever heard of.

Iron Claw’s senior envoy delivered the news himself at the start of the ceremony and personally conveyed the queen’s well wishes.

Jimin eyed the representative in question speculatively from his corner of the table. At first glance the man seemed much like every other emissary gathered in the crowded hall to fulfil centuries old obligations. But Taehyung had always possessed a strange sense about people.

His instincts could not be easily dismissed.

“I will keep that in mind,” he whispered as he sent the young man a courteous nod.

The sun had already begun to set when a messenger from the chief elder’s chambers arrived at your door. At long last the ceremonial requirements were drawing to a close and soon the elder’s council would be sending you instructions.

However...‘soon’ could mean anything from twenty minutes to five hours.

“You might as well rest while you can,” Jin teased with a salacious wiggle of his brows. “Who knows what strenuous activity you might find yourself involved in when they finally let that boy loose.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to pretend that your cheeks weren’t burning with embarrassment.

“I will rest, but not for any reason you’re thinking.”

Truth be told, your nerves were a bit… frayed.

A frustration was building within you and nothing seemed to satisfy it. You weren’t even sure what you were wanting, but you definitely wanted it.

“Of course not,” your cousin chuckled as you gathered your gloves and wandered back to the bedroom.

An hour later Jin’s boredom found him snuggled up on the couch near the fireplace reading over an old cookbook from your mother’s pantry.

“Heavens… no wonder Aunt Isa’s kimchi is so dry. This is a disgrace.”

Suddenly the front door began to shake and pound violently. Strange smells carried through the air and his eyes widened.

Foreign wolves.

He drew in a deep breath and immediately growled in frustration.

Foreign alphas.

A small bowl of red powder sat on the mantle above the hearth. Jin just barely managed to toss it into the flames before the door splintered off its hinges.

“Hello boys,” he drawled, unleashing a massive dose of pheromones while the knives strapped to his forearms slid smoothly to his hands. “What brings you here?”

“I just heard the strangest news,” Min Yoongi narrowed his eyes at the small scrap of paper passed to him by one of the council aides.

“Oh?”

The next set of guild masters were making their way to Jimin at a snail’s pace. It would be several seconds before he needed to greet them.

“One of the healers sent word that Namjoon has disappeared from his assigned recovery room.” He shook his head curiously. “Where do you suppose he’s gone?”

Jimin’s eyes widened.

That mangy mutt. He’s probably bent Yunli over every surface of her brother’s house by now. Goddess above! He couldn’t hold out for six more days?

“I’m sure I have no idea.”

I should have killed him. This is a disaster. He can barely walk, how does he expect to-

“The Miner’s Guild is honored to serve at the pleasure of the Alpha.”

Jimin nodded regally and forced up a pleasant smile.

“The honor is entirely mine, Master Lee. I look forward to-”

A loud crash split the solemn hush of the room as a young member of the council guard burst through the heavy wooden doors.

“Red smoke! Red smoke rises from the Luna’s hearth!”

Jimin felt his heart plummet into his stomach.

Chaos erupted immediately.

“Call for the guards!”

“We must notify the healers.”

“The messengers just spoke to her-”

“Is it an attack?”

“ENOUGH!”

The Alpha’s voice cut across the assembly with authoritative resonance.

Every eye turned to him in expectation.

But he could only think of you.

“Jung, lock the building down. Take your clansmen and seal off every entrance.”

Murmurs began to stir through the hall as Hoseok directed his people toward the access points, but he ignored them.

“Choi. Make for the healers. Have a dozen of them meet us there.”

Jimin was already heading for the door. The deadly length of his claws flashed ominously in the firelight.

“Kim, Min, Jeon - with me.”

The three alphas in question fell in step behind him without a word.

The scene at the Luna’s home was nightmarish.

Jimin ran to your room immediately, but all he found was a broken window and the lingering scent of your fear.

His wolf howled in anguish as he fell to his knees and screamed in rage.

At the front of the house four badly beaten bodies lay strewn about the kitchen and living room area. Most of the furniture was destroyed and the scent of carnage soaked the air.

“Jin!”

The omega stood at the center of the rubble. There was a nasty slash running up his right leg and another grievous wound near his ribs.

But his arms were wrapped around a massive foriegn wolf with the thin blade of his favorite knife pressed against the intruders throat.

“What happened here?” Yoongi gasped. “And that smell-” he moved his hand to cover his nose.

“Pheromones,” Taehyung nearly gagged.

His eyes fell to the corpses - examining their injuries with a critical gaze.

“Jin, you dangerous bastard.”

The omega simply smiled and forced the prisoner onto his knees.

“I don’t understand…” Jungkook shook his head.

“He flooded them with omega pheromones... These four were unmated.” The Kim alpha let out a cold chuckle. “He triggered their ruts… and they killed each other over him.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened.

Male omegas really were terrifying.

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed and he considered the scene.

“None of this makes sense. The scent markers are clearly from the Iron Claw pack. They didn’t even bother to mask…”

Jungkook and Yoongi began to search the bodies for any hint of their motives or identity when Jimin returned from your room. His fury was palpable in the air around him.

“Why would anyone kidnap a Luna?” he snarled. “The divine bloodline is sacred to all wolves. Who would be so reckless?”

Jin shook his head.

“I don’t know.” His knife twisted into the prisoner’s neck. “But he does.”

Jimin crouched down in front of the foreigner, fighting every urge in his soul to tear the mountains apart for his mate.

“Where is she?”

The prisoner sneered.

“You may be a powerful Alpha, but you are not of my pack or my blood. I’ll never tell you anything.”

“Oh,” Jimin’s eyes flashed with golden fire, “I think you will.”

Heavy.

That was how you felt.

Your body was sore (like it had been tossed and carried a long distance) and your mind was out of focus (as if everything around you was moving either too quickly or too slowly - honestly you couldn’t quite tell).

You remembered being drugged; some sort of compound pressed against your nose and mouth.

Glass from the window shattered onto your face…

Then unfamiliar scents and unfamiliar hands closed in on all sides.

Too fast for you to react.

Too shocking for anyone to have predicted.

Nothing like this had ever happened and there was no reason to believe it would.

To harm a Luna was sacrilege.

It was simply not done.

What could drive men to such a course of action?

You should be afraid; terrified even.

But you weren’t.

Your eyes fluttered open to take your new surroundings. You could vaguely see the shape of seven or eight wolves - alphas by the smell of them-

And then you smiled.

It wasn’t your usual impish grin or anything close to soft or inviting.

It was a cold twist that crept over your lips as you watched your abductors set up their camp.

After a moment, one of them noticed your strange expression.

“Looks like the little Luna hit her head on the way here,” he called out to his comrades with an amused snort. “You should have been more careful with her, Mac.”

He shook his head and made his way over to where you were tied up. The young alpha reeked so heavily of sweat and self-importance, you almost gagged.

“What’s got you so amused, Miss Luna?”

It was more of a taunt than a question, but your smile widened nonetheless.

“My mate is going to kill you.”

Shock flickered over his features for just a second before he threw his head back and laughed.

“We’ll be long gone before your sweet little alpha even knows we’re here.” He gripped your chin between his fingers and you snarled. “We masked our scent as soon as we got you - and there isn’t a wolf alive that could track our crew through the woods.”

“You’re wrong,” you whispered.

Jimin’s face flashed through your mind - followed immediately by another memory, buried deeply, but never forgotten—

of a frightened little girl and the silver wolf who braved the forest and fought a monster to save her.

“He’ll come for me - no matter what precautions you’ve taken.” You leaned forward a bit, letting the conviction in your gaze blaze through to the depths of your captor’s soul. “And then - he’ll come for you.”

If you are already in the taglist, then I will automatically tag you for the next part! If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know.

And also please tell me what you thought of this update! I am really excited to hear your thoughts! (I know it was kind of unexpected right?) Feedback really does fuel my writing and hearing from you means a lot to me! On days that its hard to write, I go back and I read your lovely words and it makes me want to keep going! I cannot overstate its value in my heart!

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blorbosondeck · 3 years

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fic rec masterlist

canon divergent/finale fix its

Anamnesis

THIS! FIC! this fic lives in my head rent FREE it is so good and it makes so much sense in the narrative that the shitty finale concocted, as to why they wouldn't mention cas or anyone else and its just. so good and they write chuck in the most villainous way that i love!!!

"Chuck is depowered, Jack is the new god, and the world is free. Dean and Sam get into the Impala and chase down the miles on an endless highway, and their story is finally, finally their own to follow. At least, that's what Dean tells himself. But the diners and motels and painted interstate lines are blurring together and the smallest details keep catching at his brain like tiny fishhooks and he can't quite shake the feeling that not everything is exactly as it should be. Fix-it/alternate series finale. Canon-compliant through the end of 15.19."

Sunset Sound: Stairway to Heaven by @adhdeancas

GOD FUCKING CHRIST this is so good and sweet and im such a sucker for team ups and reunions!!! its 3:30 am rn and i just finished it and i love it SO much it made me laugh a lot and the last few chapters i had the stupidest grin just plastered to my face

The Closer the Star, the Greater the Parallax by @rocksalts

repressed bastard dean submits to the mortifying ordeal of being known and receives the rewards of being loved but only after some miscommunication i LOVE this i read it last night and it’s a fast favorite. my interests have overlapped and i am INTO it

“When Dean sits down to watch some bullcrap Discovery Channel episode with Cas, he doesn’t expect to actually learn anything. Except, with Cas explaining, he makes an effort to connect the dots.”

Don't We All Deserve To Be Happy?

VERY sweet and a VERY good pick me up. all around feel good fic!!!

"Post-canon fix-it, divergent from 15x19 where Jack stays and Dean doesn't die and Cas comes back and everyone is happy. Take a shot every time I'm salty about the finale."

Keep Your Love Alive

okay. okay okay okay this may be my favorite finale fix it just because of how well reasoned it is. like this feels what should have happened i love it SO much

"Dean gets to spend eternity sharing beers with Bobby on the Roadhouse porch and riding around in his Baby with Sam. He’s at peace… or he feels like he should be. But a few things nag at him: Where is Cas, and everybody else Dean had been hoping to see in Heaven? Why does he feel like he’s stuck in a loop, reliving the same memories over and over again? And who are the strangers wearing Sam’s and Bobby’s faces?"

The GoldenRod Revisions by @aethylas

this is one of the most well written things ive ever read. the script format DID make it feel more real and honestly? this is better writing than this show deserves. the finale that could have been ♥️

“A rewrite of Supernatural’s final two episodes, expanded into a five episode arc - in which Chuck needs to be defeated, Castiel deserves to be saved, and the characters in this story get a very different ending.“

Ascend by @wanderingcas

THEE finale fix it fic!!! written by the AMAZINGLY skilled and talented @wanderingcas !!! it’s 50k of angst and hurt/comfort and pure bliss

“Something in the world is wrong.

Demon activity is rising where mysterious black substance oozes and unusual ecological events are shaking the world. Dean, grief hanging on his shoulders, restlessly searches for answers that might lead him to the Empty… and to Cas.

But what Chuck wrote can’t be undone. The narrative thread pulls Dean along, forcing him to comply. Because once a story already has an ending, it can’t be rewritten.

Or can it?”

Things Happen (They Do, And They Do, And They Do) by THEE @sobsicles

i KNOW everyone has already recommended this and likely you’ve all already read it. but it has to go here bc REPRESSIOOOOOOOOON i LOVE this so much it is one of the most perfect things i’ve read. are you bisexual? did you have a kind of weird relationship with your best friend and not realize that how you felt about them wasn’t necessarily how other people felt about them and you were maybe a little bit in love with them but were too repressed to realize it? you’ll feel seen. maybe a little too seen

Closer (isn't close enough)

are you a sweet and sappy yet horny bastard? do you like cas exploding light bulbs? you will like this.

“the one where they finally talk about what cas said before the empty took him”

You and Your Husband

it is exTRMELY sweet!!! repression dean strikes again <3

"Five times Dean corrects someone about his relationship with Cas, and one time he realizes he doesn't need to."

Tall Grass

miscommunication and a slowburn! despite being written in 2017 and finished in 2018, it feels like a fix it. ft. plant obsessed cas <3

Invictus

a LOVELY and short (relatively) finale fix it

“They saved the world. They're free. It's done.

Except it's not, and carrying on is the last thing any of them are thinking about.

They still have someone they need to save.”

Unchained Link

post finale- it’s a great case fic and i am compelled i want more!!!

"It's after the end of things. Life continues on while Dean is "livin it up" in heaven. But it's never that simple, is it? A freak occurrence sends Dean into another time stranded back on Earth. And he thought his hunting days were over. But, no worries. His knight in shining armor comes to the rescue. Hijinks, therefore, ensue."

fun and time unspecified

Ladies and Gentlemen, This is Love Potion No. 5

very funny and sweet! miscommunication at its finest ♥️

"Cas gets drenched with a mystery potion from the ‘love spell’ shelf and... Dean has a sneaking suspicion, angel or no— the spell may have taken effect. And Cas might be in love with Sam."

The Way We Were

Y'all. It is so good its a great mix of funny and serious- extremely fun to see dean as like a base bisexual

"Dean and Castiel pose as a couple to gain access to a gated community known as 'The Glen', a pleasant if secretive location that the boys believe might be linked to several dead bodies showing up over the years bearing signs of ritualistic sacrifice. All seems well until Dean's memory is affected from an incident during a solo exploration, leaving Dean convinced that their cover story is true. Castiel is left trying to resolve their case without taking advantage of an increasingly enthusiastic Dean"

While You Were Sleeping

this is basically just the movie but replacing sandra bullock with cas. this is my comfort movie and imo, one of the most perfect rom coms. the fic isn’t finished but i still have the tab open on my phone and i will straight up go back and re read it when i need a pick me up.

aus/rewrites

The Harvelle Gospels: Offscript

i know everyone ever ( @jewishcharliebradbury ) has recommended this fic. and for good reason go fucking read it

“The Apocalypse is averted, the angels are in Heaven, and Jo is free from the threat of possession. Somehow it couldn't be farther from a happy ending.“

absolute riots

An Ineffably Profound Bond

i honestly would have put this in the finale fix it section! look. i know. i know you've been burned by crossover fics before. but this is Thee good omens/spn fic you want. its funny as hell and immensely satisfying. im weak for everyone working together tropes and that is this

"After Chuck sets 'The End' in motion, the remaining members of TFW make a miraculous escape. Not willing to waste any time, Castiel comes up with a plan to travel to one of the other worlds to try and get help from the angels there, but after a fight with Dean, it's the hunter who gets sent into an alternate universe,with seemingly no hope of return.

When a mysterious human with a heavenly weapon shows up in Aziraphale's shop, he and Crowley learn that their world is not the only one. Now it is up to them to decide whether or not they want to join forces with the human and help him save his world or simply find a way to send him home."

Somebody Up There Likes Me by @lafilleredige

cas is hit with a spell that turns his vessel into a woman, hijinks and sexuality crises ensue etc etc sam is a supportive and bitchy little brother and its all SO fucking funny and also. horny as hell i love it i love it i LOVE it

“’Dean doesn’t want to talk about your breasts, it’s making him uncomfortable because he hasn’t acknowledged the complex fluidity of human sexuality.’“

Stray Cat Strut

a long crack fic that IS one of the funniest things i’ve ever read and i can’t explain why. it’s so ooc but its so funny that i don’t care. if you need a laugh you gotta read this

"Sam and Cas are immediately in love with the adorable kitty they find outside the bunker door, and occupy their time planning how to convince Dean--who they believe is off sulking after a botched hunt--to let them keep their cat. Along the way, Dean learns to use a litter box and hears some confessions he maybe wasn’t supposed to hear, all while realizing just how much he loves Castiel.

Now all Dean has to do is convince Cas and Sam their new pet cat is actually him before they do something crazy--like neuter him!"

canon compliant or slight canon divergence

Give

by @doublestuffedimpala post season 7 episode 7, kind of ambiguous ending but truly a cas is happy to bleed for the winchesters fic

Punch Like Bones

short, post 5x04 homoerotic moment that i wish we’d gotten

#lmao please interact with this i spent so much time on it #i had to go onto desktop for this #ill keep adding on to it #my fic recs #fic rec #spn fic rec #deancas fic recs #charlie.txt

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ampintherain · 3 years

Text

I’m Yours:

Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Chapter IV

Y/N is Kenny Ortega’s ‘niece’ after going through a rough breakup, Kenny decides to fly her over to stay with him, will her broken heart mend?

(Female Reader, NO SMUT, Romance, Friendship, THIS IS MY FIRST EVER FANFIC/IMAGINE, I hope it’s good, Kenny is lifelong family friend so reader calls him Uncle Kenny. I’m British so the writing is going to be British so like ‘mum’ not ‘mom’ yanno?)

TW- swearing. mentions of alcohol, drugs & divorce

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Y/N

“Doll, you ready to go?” Kenny asked as he shrugged on his coat, we had been at Tori’s for a good three hours and I could see Kenny was getting tired and we did have a really long day tomorrow, I nodded at my uncle happily before bidding farewell to my new found friends. I found it quite strange as to how quickly they had befriended me and made me feel more than welcome- Charlie especially, I mean throughout the day he asked me if I was alright and he encouraged me to share my ideas with Uncle Kenny, it really was strange.

“See you tomorrow Y/n” Owen chirped, pulling me in for a quick hug, I was soon passed round through the group of friends each of them giving me a tight hug which I gladly reciprocated, I waved everyone a final goodbye before Kenny and I left Tori’s apartment and made our way back to the car.

As Uncle Kenny drove through the streets of Vancouver, I paid most attention to the lights displayed throughout, I watched as birds flew through the sky and listened to the soft sound of the radio, “you okay Y/n?” Uncle Kenny questioned,

“Hm?” I said, as the questioned tore me out of my unknown daydream, I turned to face my uncle Kenny and before he could repeat himself, my brain managed to process what he originally asked “oh oh yeah, I’m fine Uncle Kenny, just sight seeing” I laughed quietly,

“Okay, just making sure, I’m worried about you...” Kenny admitted, I had a feeling that he was but he just didn’t want to draw attention to me and my situation, I have always been very good at hiding my emotions it came from years and years of being told that my emotions and the way I felt weren’t ‘necessary’ and that I shouldn’t feel the way I did- in the end, I decided to no longer tell anyone my problems but deal with them myself, battling through the pain as a lone warrior, I didn’t even tell Kenny what was going on, I built up layers of walls around me to protect myself and make it seem like I was this strong, capable woman. “You’re only 19, Y/n, I know you’re strong but... I just want you to know that I am here should you ever need me” I nodded in response, worried that if I did speak, my voice would give way and I would be revealed as this weak character, I’ve already cried once today and I’m not planning on crying anymore, not in front of Kenny at least.

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Kenny locked the door behind me as we both entered the apartment, “do you want a drink or anything Uncle Kenny?” I questioned as I made my way into the kitchen, opening the fridge and taking out the carton of orange juice,

“No you’re alright Star, I’m just going to head to bed, I’ll wake you up at 7 alright?” He assured me, I nodded as I sipped at my juice, I looked at the digital clock placed on the side- 12:00am, luckily I had sorted through all of my clothes before going to set and again before going to Tori’s because, quite honestly, I hadn’t the energy to do much at this point, I watched as my uncle wandered into his room, closing the door behind him. I let out a deep breath, the thoughts of a few nights ago coming back into my memory, replaying itself there, why wasn’t I good enough? I did absolutely everything I could for him... I loved him with everything I had... why wasn’t I good enough?

I kept asking myself, it was truly lost on me, I didn’t see myself as this perfect girl, this perfect girlfriend but I knew what I did for him. I was there for him when his dad spiralled, turning to alcoholism and drug abuse, I was there whenever he called, whenever he showed up randomly at my house at 4 in the morning crying and looking for a cuddle, I made sure to visit him mum every Tuesday evening for dinner because Zac wanted to move out once his parents split, deciding to live with his grandparents instead. We were even thinking about moving in together... well him moving in with me as I had already had my own place at 18. That boy was my entire world for 3 years and the fact that he could throw it all away so easily, really hurt me, and I don’t think it was anything that I could understand ever.

The thought alone caused my heart to feel crushed, it felt like Zac had a hold of my heart and whenever I thought about it, he just squeezed my heart as hard as he possibly could, it felt like a gut wrenching type of pain, I wiped away the tears that I didn’t even realise were spilling quickly out of my eyes. I cleared my throat and drank the rest of my juice before making my way to bed, I changed into my grey cable knit sweater and my plaid shorts and clambered into the large double bed, snuggling into the comfort that the bed brought me before I let sleep take over me.

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“Rise and shine” Kenny said quietly into my bedroom, I groaned as I stretched in bed, “morning sleepyhead” he chuckled,

“Morning” I mumbled, scratching the back of my head, Kenny told me that we’d be leaving in 20 minutes, “okay, I’ll see you in 20” I smiled, sliding out of bed and heading into my closet, I grabbed my white tennis skirt, white shirt and dark blue sweater, I paired the outfit with white tennis socks and my white and blue Nike Jordan’s that Uncle Kenny bought me for Christmas. I placed my clothes on my bed and went for a quick shower, this time I dried my hair before chucking it up into a high ponytail, I brushed my teeth and did some light makeup again before changing and grabbing my phone off the side,

“Let’s go” I stated as I made my way over to Kenny,

“You look amazing” he smiled genuinely at me, I thanked him and we made our way back to the set of his new show.

“So... how did you sleep?” Kenny asked me,

“Oh really well thank you, that bed was huge, you could fit like five of me in there” I joked, just as my phone chimed, I looked down at the lit screen to see messages from the one person I didn’t want to hear from.

Zac- Hey, where are you? I came to your place to see you and you weren’t there...

I rolled my eyes and groaned internally before locking my phone and sinking into my seat, “what’s on your mind?” Uncle Kenny asked immediately, I swear it’s like this man lives in my brain. I turned my phone on vibrate just as another text came through,

“It’s nothing Uncle Kenny” I sighed, the man driving next to me simply hummed in response, he definitely didn’t believe me but I knew he wasn’t going to push for answers- he never did, he would always let me come to him if I needed and that was one of the things I loved most about him. I could feel my phone constantly vibrating in my hand whilst Kenny was driving, so I turned it on do not disturb just to try and escape it.

“Alright kiddo, we’ve arrived” Kenny said as he swiftly parked up, I went to unbuckle myself but Kenny stopped me, “you don’t have to tell me right now, but I am here, you know I won’t judge you like your parents” he explained, I sighed and leant over to rest my head on his arm,

“I know Uncle Kenny... it’s Zac, he texted me... I’m ignoring him though” I replied, he sighed and looked down at me, placing a kiss to the top of my head,

“You’re going to have to” Kenny started before I cut him off mid sentence,

“Message him at some point, I know I know” I sat back upright and unbuckled the seat before getting out the car, “come on” I sighed, putting back on my brave face before heading into the lot with Uncle Kenny in tow.

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Charlie

“Y/n!” I heard Sav yell from across the lot, I turned to see Y/n walking towards us, her arms linked with Kenny’s as he was talking and joking with her, I watched as she let out a quick laugh before shaking her head, probably at some corny joke that Kenny told. “We’re matching!” Sav exclaimed as Y/n got closer,

“So we are!” Y/n giggled, “but don’t you have to be in your Carrie costume?” She questioned, pointing at the costume trailer just a way behind us,

“We are rehearsing Wow today in costume” Kenny announced, this prompted Sav to scrunch her face and turn on her heels, grabbing Tori by her upper arm as they both ran to the costume trailer, “those girls” Kenny laughed, shaking his head, “I’m going to get some breakfast, do you want anything Y/n?” The girl shook her head, “you have to eat Star, I’ll get you a croissant okay?”

“If I have to eat, can you get me some blueberry pancakes?” Y/n questioned innocently, smiling up at her ‘uncle.’ Kenny simply nodded and walked over to catering to grab him and Y/n some breakfast. “Hey” Y/n said as she took a step closer to me, I looked down at her and smiled,

“Hey” I mirrored, “sleep well last night?” I asked, the girl nodded and started to walk down the lot, I naturally started to follow her, not wanting the conversation to end,

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever slept in a bed that big before” she giggled, causing my heart to skip a beat slightly, “how about you? Did you sleep well?” She questioned, looking up at me with her beautiful y/e/c eyes.

“Oh yeah, Owen and I left Tori’s a little while after you and Ken left, we grabbed some food and then just crashed as soon as we got home” I said simply, just as I mentioned Owen I saw him come out of his trailer dressed as Alex,

“You, Charles. Have to be in costume” he stated, pointing at me, I rolled my eyes before he shoo’d me away, I nodded slightly at Y/n as a way to say goodbye and she saluted me slightly which caused me to laugh before jogging up to costume.

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Y/N

“Why the long face?” Owen asked me as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders, “wassup Buttercup?” I bit the inside of my cheek and looked up at the blonde boy,

“It’s my ex” I stated plainly, “he messaged me this morning and I just...” I trailed off, not really knowing what to say, was I ignoring Zac because I hated him, or was I ignoring him because I was worried that if I did text him back, I would fall for him all over again? You can’t get over someone that quickly, no matter how much they hurt you... right?

“Don’t know what to say to him?” Owen answered for me, “what did he say?” He asked, I daren’t look at my phone again because I knew that he had probably texted more so I tried to remember what I saw at quick glance.

“It was something about why I wasn’t home and where I was” I remembered, sitting down on the small couch in the resting tent, my back against the arm rest and my legs tucked up to my chest, Owen sat down, facing me and mirroring my position, “I just don’t see why I have to tell him that anymore... he’s my ex y’know?” I vented, leaning my head back and closing my eyes.

“Hey, you shouldn’t let him get to you like that, it’s not cool... look, I’m pretty sure we have a day off tomorrow, why don’t you come over to mine and Charlie’s place and we can watch movies and pig out?” Owen offered, I lifted my head back up and nodded, it didn’t sound like the worst idea, in fact, it sounded like the best thing for me, I mean karaoke last night helped me a lot so maybe just a chilled day would help too?

“Yeah that sounds amazing actually” I smiled.

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“Okay you guys, Sav, Sacha, Tori, Mads and Jay you guys can all go home, thank you so much for your excellence today, you’re all amazing!” Uncle Kenny beamed with pride at his cast that he was dismissing for the day, we had just filmed 3 more scenes for the show and the cast had rehearsals for as many dances they could fit in today, the only thing left on the agenda was the hot dog scene, “now, I will see everyone at the next location? Y/n, you ready?” Kenny asked, I nodded as I felt a shiver run up my spine causing my body to visibly shake,

“Hey” I heard Charlie whisper, “you okay?” He questioned, staying within earshot of me,

“Yeah I’m good, just cold, I forgot a jacket and it was warm today... I kinda forgot how long today was” I laughed, slightly embarrassed about my sieve of a brain, although the presence of Charlie stood behind me seemed to keep me fairly warm, that is, until I felt him leave. I turned to see Owen looking behind him as Charlie darted off, “I’ll be one second” Charlie yelled loud enough for everyone to hear and wait for him.

“Where’s he going?” Jeremy asked, pointing behind him towards where Charlie had just disappeared to,

“I have... no idea” Owen sighed, shrugging his shoulders, “Y/n/n, do you know?” I shook my head,

“He just ran off, maybe he forgot something” I stated, just as Charlie came running back, handing me a brown corduroy jacket with a wool collar,

“Here, it has pockets too so you won’t have to keep holding your phone” he said, only slightly out of breath.

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Charlie

Y/n gently took the jacket from me, “oh... thanks” she said as a red tint reached her cheeks, she shrugged the jacket on and I couldn’t help but smile at how it looked on her, on me, it fit perfectly but on Y/n, it nearly swamped her, the sleeves hung so low only her fingertips could be seen and the length of the jacket went just above where her skirt ended. She looked adorable.

“Yeah.. yeah anytime” I replied, Y/n placed her phone in her pocket and started to walk towards Kenny,

“Hey, I’ve gotta talk to my Uncle Kenny about some things for the hot dog scene, I had some ideas but I’ll see you on location okay?” She said, not just to me, but to Owen and Jeremy as well, all three of us nodded and joined together so we could all walk out of the lot,

“You like her...” Jeremy stated, Owen nudged him slightly and rolled his eyes,

“I made that observation last night!” He said, “but yeah, you totally like her... it’s obvious”

“I just gave her my jacket, she said she was cold, I would’ve done the same for anybody, like Mads” I defended, “she did look really cute in it though” I admitted, Owen agreed with me which caused me to look at him sceptically,

“Before you get jealous and ask me, no I don’t like her, she’s just a friend” he answered before I even had a chance to ask the question, “oh by the way, she was talking to me about her ex today, something about how he messaged her and she doesn’t know what to say to him, she seemed really down so I invited her to come over tomorrow” Owen explained,

“Oh really? Okay cool” was all I could say, Jeremy soon decided to change the subject to running lines as he could see that I was becoming nervous at the fact that Y/n was coming over, I had no idea why the thought of it had my heart racing and my mind scattered but it did, there was something about Y/n that I couldn’t quite put my finger on but whatever it was drove me crazy about her.

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Y/N

We had just finished filming the final scene of the day- the hot dog scene and it was the longest scene ever, the amount of re-runs and developments on the scene was enough to drive anybody insane, I groaned slightly as I turned and sat on the seat that one of the crew members brought with them just as Kenny was wrapping the scene up. “Y/n, I’ve just got to do some paperwork and I’ll be right with you okay? I’m sure the boys will keep you company once they change” Kenny announced, to which I simply nodded, not having the energy to say anything or do anything else, I rubbed my eye as I pulled my phone out of Charlie’s jacket pocket, I looked down at the screen and saw the notification, I had 36 unread messages from Zac:

>Zac- hello? Y/n! Where are you?

>Zac- I’m worried about you...

>Zac- Y/n! Would you please just answer me...

>Zac- I went to the coffee shop, you weren’t there either, where have you run off to?

>Zac- look Y/n, I’m really sorry about what I did to you

>Zac- WTF! WHERE ARE YOU?!?

>Zac- you can’t possibly be giving me the silent treatment? Seriously.

>Zac- I didn’t realise you were so childish.

>Zac- I’m glad I cheated on you, you’re worthless

>Zac- wait no, I’m sorry I didn’t mean that I’m just worried about you.

The list went on and on, a mixture of emotions, I kept scrolling through the text screen until I saw the most recent text, delivered 1 minute ago,

>Zac- call me. Please.

I rolled my eyes, I couldn’t call him, I shouldn’t call him right? But alas, like muscle memory, I clicked on the call icon and there was his voice, “Y/n! Hey... how’re you?” All I did was sigh in response, I watched as the boys came out of the venue and into sight, they all waved at me before noticing I was on the phone, Owen and Jeremy dispersed whereas Charlie stayed, walking slowly towards me with a half-smile on his face, clearly worried about whether or not I wanted him to come closer.

“What do you want?” I said bluntly, “I’m not in the mood to hear your pathetic apologies Zac, you’re messages were ridiculous, you went from being apologetic to calling me worthless and saying that you were happy that you cheated on me!”

“Listen Y/n... I can’t explain” Zac began but I was in no mood to hear it,

“No you listen Zac, you don’t get to be sad, you don’t get to cry. You are the one who cheated remember? Or have you suddenly developed amnesia? You went behind my back and had this whole other relationship for 13 months... and on top of that, it was with Quinn! My best friend and you think I’m going to sit here and listen to your silly little apologies, no, you have another thing coming. We were together for 3 years and for a year of that you were with someone else, I was nothing but loyal to you, I was nothing but kind to you, I loved you so much and I thought that you would never hurt me, but I was wrong, you’re just a piece of shit Zac, you and Quinn deserve each other, you’re both snakes, you’re both pathetic and you both betrayed me. I dont want to hear from you again? Do I make myself clear?” I ranted down the phone, I never raised my voice, I kept calm, I wouldn’t let him know that he made me so angry that I wanted to scream and throw my phone into the road, no. I wouldn’t let him have that power over me.

“But Y/n- we’ve been through so much... Quinn doesn’t know me like you do... she’s not there for me like you do” Zac grovelled, I scoffed in response,

“Well isn’t that just a crying shame? You should’ve thought about that before you decided to go behind my back and fuck her, you should’ve thought about it before you decided to be unfaithful. Hey, I’ll make this easy for you, I’ll just block you on everything that way you have no way of contacting me. Goodbye Zac” I said as I abruptly hung up, giving Zac no chance to talk, I blocked his number and started to go through my social media, blocking him on everything that I had.

“Uh... you okay?” I heard a worried voice speak, I looked up to see those eyes that could only belong to Charlie, he tilted his head and looked at me with concern riddled all over his face, I placed my phone on my lap and rubbed my temples to try and reduce to incoming headache.

“Yeah... that was my ex” I stated the absolute obvious, unsure of what else to say, Charlie nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets before taking the seat next to me, he didn’t ask me to go on and explain but I felt like I could talk to him and so I did “you probably heard but he cheated on me, with my best friend”

“Yeah... yeah I did hear, look, Y/n, I know it probably won’t mean much but he really doesn’t deserve you and he isn’t worth your tears” he said calmly, placing his thumb on my cheek and gently brushed away the tears that I had no idea were slowly falling from my eyes, “by the sounds of it, he sounds like a dick and you were way too good for him” I laughed in response, “I’m being serious, Y/n, you’re gorgeous and kind and funny and insanely talented! I know it’s hard but you shouldn’t let a guy like that get to you...”

“Yeah I know... but he and I were together for so long, it just makes me feel like everything was a lie y’know? And like I can’t truly be loved by anyone” I admitted, hearing this Charlie stood up in front of me and held his hands out, “what...?” I questioned, he beckoned me to stand up before pulling me in for a hug,

“You? You can’t truly be loved? Y/n you’re one of the most lovable people I’ve ever met, everyone loves you here... I know that’s not the type of love you meant but trust me on this okay? You can very easily be loved” I pulled out of the hug slightly and Charlie lightly placed his hands on my face, looking deep into my eyes, he smiled slightly to himself causing me to become shy and look down, Charlie used his index finger to lift my head back up by my chin ever so gently, “who wouldn’t want to fall in love with you?”

💜thank you for reading💜

♡︎𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 : @thesweetestsinner , @ifilwtmfc , @ashleyleblancx , @chloepart03 , @obxflowr , @lukeys-giggle ♡︎

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ifmywishescametrue · 3 years

Note

hnnng, could you please do either “you’re sick and you need to rest” or “you could’ve died” for stevetony? Worrying about an SO is a soft spot for me🥺

thank you for sending me this prompt! hope you like it :) (warning for mentions of torture, btw, but nothing graphic)

In that cave in Afghanistan, Tony keeps seeing flashes of things. Moments from life before all of this come to him in between the shocks of electricity when his head is forced underwater, while he’s sputtering and gasping for breath and can’t understand the words being screamed at him.

He sees Steve more than anything. Sees blue eyes and a bright smile and if he tries hard enough he can almost hear the laugh that comes with it. Sometimes it’s that first day again, with roaming hands and a rush to get off in the bathroom of some party he didn’t want to be at, followed by an easy grin and the promise to do that again sometime. He sees Steve on his couch surrounded by take out containers and the reassurance that absolutely none of it counted as a date. Morning pancakes that supposedly meant nothing, and Steve sneaking under the desk in his office. Pencil scratches on sketch pads that used to wake him up, cold feet pressed against his calves, his favorite muffins from that bakery downtown that used to just appear out of nowhere when he was having a bad day, and the way that Steve would never admit that it was him doing it.

It’s that last night he remembers the most. He can almost hear the words whispered in the dead of night and remembers the ones he held back, because Tony has never known how to be completely honest. He didn’t know how to say that this casual friends with benefits things was starting to feel less like friends and more like love, but when he lays down with his aching chest and bleeding fingers on the poor excuse for a cot at night, he wishes more than anything that he could have found the words before.

So he builds the suit and practices the right thing to say for when he makes it out. If he makes it out. If this ridiculous plan of his doesn’t result in him dying somewhere in the middle of the desert, just another body added to the pile of deaths he’s caused.

He almost doesn’t believe it when he lives. His knees hit the scorching sand, and Rhodey’s arms are right there, and still all he can think about is whether or not Steve mourned at all when they all thought he was dead.

In the plane, after the hospital at the army base and all the IV lines to fix the three months of dehydration and malnutrition, he works up the nerve to ask about it.

“Steve,” he starts, voice hoarse enough that he pauses to clear his throat, unwilling to sound so affected. “Is he - did he -” He stops, settling for asking, “Have you talked to him?”

Rhodey leans forward on his elbows, closing some of the distance that the aisle between them created. He pulls out his phone and taps for a moment before turning the screen to face Tony. Steve’s name is at the top, and Rhodey scrolls through the string of messages with enough speed that Tony can’t actually read any of them, but he gets the point anyway.

“This is just the last couple of weeks,” Rhodey says. “Never stopped asking for updates, especially when we found you. Called so much I told him I was going to put a virus on his phone to redirect him to random strangers if he kept it up. He didn’t listen.”

Tony swallows around the lump in his throat and looks away towards the window.

“We weren’t supposed to be anything,” Tony murmurs, watching the way the sky is fading from orange into blue, clouds obscuring the ocean below them. It’s still a few more hours until California, where he hopes that Steve is still waiting for him. “We said it was nothing.”

Rhodey hums, both noncommittal and suggestive at the same time, and Tony turns his head back to look at him. “What?”

Rhodey shrugs, “I didn’t say anything.”

“But you want to.”

“I don’t spill secrets that aren’t mine to tell.”

Tony’s brow furrows. “What does that even mean?”

“It means he’ll be there when we land, and if you try to pretend that it’s still nothing, I’m putting your ass back on the plane until you find your common sense somewhere.”

Tony bites his lip and shakes his head, staring down at his hands, “I wasn’t going to pretend. I just - I didn’t know if he cared anymore. It’s been a few months, and we weren’t… There was never a promise for commitment. He could’ve found somebody else. Anyone else.”

Rhodey gives him a look, that fondly exasperated one he does so well. “Nice to know you’re still a dumbass.”

It startles a laugh from and makes his abused lungs twinge, but it feels good to laugh again. “Takes more than a few months to knock the dumbass out of me.”

The topic falls away after that, because Tony can’t say what he feels, and Rhodey knows anyway. He switches the conversation over to the start of the baseball season that Tony missed, complaining about the Phillies like Tony’s heard every year since he was fifteen. It’s easy and passes the time until Tony ends up falling asleep for the rest of the flight.

His muscles are stiff and uncomfortable when he wakes with a start a couple of hours later, heart racing and on edge when he doesn’t immediately recognize his surroundings. Rhodey puts a hand on his knee, and Tony jumps initially before calming. It makes Rhodey’s eyes turn sad for a moment, then it’s hidden away again.

“Come on,” Rhodey says softly, gripping Tony by the elbow of his good arm to help him up. “We’re here.”

There’s still a slight limp in his step when he walks off the plane from bruises and scars that are still healing. He sees Pepper first, with her red hair shining in the sun, but his gaze gets stuck on the person next to her.

Steve straightens from where he’s leaning against the black car, and Tony wishes he was in better condition so he could run to him. It would have been romantic, he thinks, like something out of one of those movies he’d never even seen before Steve came into his life. There would have been some grand, sweep-him-off-his-feet moment with declarations and pretty words and violins coming from somewhere.

Instead Steve meets him halfway, with a quivering chin like he might start to cry. There are dark circles under his eyes, and his hair is too long, and his five o’clock shadow is almost an actual beard now.

He’s the best thing Tony’s ever seen.

“Hey,” Tony says, because he can’t remember a single one of those things he planned before.

Steve smiles, and it’s only a little shaky, “Hey yourself.”

Rhodey and Pepper disappear with the shutting of the car door, leaving the two of them standing there in the middle of the empty runway. Steve takes the first step, but Tony takes the second, and then Steve’s chest is beneath his cheek, and his arms are around his shoulders.

Tony holds on to him like a lifeline, fingers clutched in his t-shirt, and he can feel the warmth of him seeping into his skin. Steve’s hands are all over, as if checking to make sure he’s all actually there and in one piece.

Steve steps back a little, a small frown on his face. He reaches his hand up to Tony’s chest, and Tony tenses at the first light press against the reactor case.

“What…” Steve trails off, eyes flickering between Tony’s chest and his face, and Tony undoes two of the buttons on his shirt to show him.

The scars around it are marred and red, with raised edges that serve to make it look even worse than it is. Steve makes a sound like a choked back sob, and Tony grabs his wrist to put his hand on the reactor. It’s a little terrifying to let him touch it, but if there’s anyone he knows would never hurt him, it’s Steve.

“It’s okay,” Tony murmurs. “It keeps me alive.”

“You could’ve died,” Steve whispers, fingers spreading out over the light of the reactor. “I thought you - I didn’t want to think it, but it was hard not to. Rhodey kept saying that you wouldn’t let yourself go out like that. You’d be all or nothing, and it wasn’t big enough. And Pepper, well, she basically said exactly what did happen. That you’d find a way out. I tried to believe it, too, but I just kept thinking that you could be gone, and we’d never - I’d never get the chance to make this real.”

Tony looks up at him, breath catching in his throat. “I thought about you every day, you know. I almost told you how I felt about you on that last night. Came so close to saying it, but I just -”

“I know,” Steve says, and with his other hand he cups Tony’s cheek. “You don’t have to say it. I already know.”

“Yeah?”

Steve nods, leaning in closer, and his lips brush against Tony’s when he says, “Yeah, sweetheart, I know.”

#stevetony #prompts #i literally love you for sending me this #asks #my writing #my fic #stony #superhusbands

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literaila · 4 years

Text

i see red. i see nothing.

“the beginning”

spencer reid x reader.

request: this was requested... but if I tell you all of it it’ll be spoiled so. here's the summary.

summmary: a car accident. a head injury. lost memories. all of them. Spencer doesn't remember the reader. But remembers everything else.

the preface for this is here. you can read it if you’d like more insight into the story :)

warnings: blood. angst. car accident. hospital. needle mentions. amnesia. incorrect medical speak (probably) uhhhhh that's it?

It was just a moment.

There was just a moment of complete silence, a moment where they were just staring at each other. There was just a moment of them. They looked at each other, and the sun was shining on them, the sun was shining on just the two of them for a moment. And everything else felt like nothing. It felt like it was just them, for just a moment everything else ceased to exist, for just one tiny moment, there was nothing else.

It was a moment too long.

They stared at each other, and their smiles were outshining the sun, and their eyes were focused on one another, and there wasn't anything.

It was just a moment.

One moment.

And then it was gone.

The ground was being ripped from underneath them, the world was spinning on its axis and there was nothing else left. Everything was gone. Everything had disappeared.

They were flipped upside down, flipped completely around, their worlds destroyed in front of their eyes.

There was something that sounded like screaming.

And there was red all around them. Red in their eyes and in their mouths, and on their clothes, and in the air, and it was stuck on everything around them, red red red, there was so much red, there was nothing else but red.

Red. On her hands, in her eyes, dripping from the ceiling. Red.

She looked around, tried to see past the red, tried to look for him.

She looked, and she stayed awake.

There was still screaming.

It was cold. It was red.

She looked around, she saw him, her world, upside down. She saw everything the exact opposite of how it was supposed to look.

She watched her breath float in front of her.

Red.

She watched her breath disappear.

She closed her eyes.

***

Five years ago, a similar moment had happened.

Five years ago, a boy with long messy hair, and a girl who had no idea where she was going, they met eyes.

Five years ago, everything ceased to exist.

Five years ago, a moment had happened. A moment neither of them would forget.

Five years ago, a boy with messy hair saw her eyes, saw her, and she looked back at him.

Five years ago, they didn't know each other.

A moment was shared, one that was only theirs.

Now, the moment had disappeared.

***

What did it feel like to have your mind ripped from your body?

What did it feel like to lose everything that mattered to you?

What did it feel like to have everything just simply disappear?

How could everything just be gone?

Why was it gone?

What did it feel like when you were ripped from the person you had become, from the people that had shaped you, from the very mind that you thought was yours to keep forever?

How did that feel?

***

Spencer woke up surprised.

His body was paralyzed beneath him, and he wasn't at home. There was no one else in the room with him.

He looked around the white walls, looked at the ceiling, looked at his body, listened to the beeping of machines all around him, he noticed the IV in his arm, the strap around his arm, the cast on his leg.

He was smart enough to know that he was in the hospital.

He wondered why he couldn't move, why his body felt like it weighed a million tons under him, why there wasn't any pain.

He could feel a bandage wrapped around his head. He wondered why.

He closed his eyes, focused on the feeling of air filling his lungs instead of the questions flooding his head. He was sure he would know soon enough, he just had to be patient. There wasn't anything he could do while his body was paralyzed.

He breathed in and out, counted in his head, and when counting got to be too much, he switched to the alphabet, going forwards and backward in multiple languages. And then when he couldn't remember anything else, he focused on his breath again.

He just had to be patient.

It took another half an hour, another half an hour of Spencer trying to distract himself from the agony of not being able to move, trying to distract himself from the fact that there was no one else in this hospital room but him, it was another half an hour he was alone.

And then two people walked in, talking insistently to each other.

“No, the doctor said that he would-”

“Penelope you know there's always a chance-”

“No Derek, he's fine. The doctor said he would be fine.”

“Penelope…”

“What would she do without him, Derek?”

Both of the people sighed.

Spencer was quick to follow, sighing out in relief. These were his friends. He wasn't completely alone.

And then Garcia gasped, dropping the cup of coffee she had been holding. She was frozen there in place, shocked at the look of Spencer's eyes, shocked that he was awake. Derek was quick to take action though, he walked over to Spencer and started asking questions incessantly.

All of his questions involved different variations of “does this hurt?” and Spencer felt overwhelmed by every new question that Derek said, he still had no idea why he was in the hospital, what had happened, why both of them looked so shocked to see him. He had no idea what was going on.

Shakily, he coughed out a “What happened?”. His voice was different, didn't feel right, he hadn't talked in so long.

Derek looked back at Penelope, she took the hint and left the room to go find the doctor. Derek looked back to Spencer and sighed. “We’ve all been worried sick about you kid.”

Spencer just frowned at him “I’m sorry?”

Derek chuckled at him, happy to see that Spencer was functioning fine. Although the doctor had told him there might be lifelong effects on his brain that were irreversible, Spencer seemed fine.

“Y/N’s been worried sick about you,” Derek said next, thinking about the girl who had refused to leave the hospital as long as Spencer was still there.

“Y/N?” Spencer asked, his eyes innocent and confused.

“Yeah Y/N, your girlfri-” Derek’s eyes widened. Spencer looked completely and utterly confused, there was no hint of joking in his face, nothing that showed that Spencer was just messing with Derek. No, Spencer had no idea what he was talking about, Spencer was actually confused.

Derek's eyes flashed around the room, he thought of what the doctor had said about permanent effects. And he stalked out of the room, going to get some answers.

“Derek?” Spencer called after him.

What was going on?

***

Four weeks ago she’d opened her eyes.

A million different thoughts appeared in her brain at once.

One: She didn’t know where she was.

Two: There wasn’t anyone in the room with her.

Three: There was a light that was blinding her.

Four: There were needles, pricking every nerve in her body.

Five: Her head was buzzing. Pounding like a heartbeat, intense in her skull.

Six: Spencer wasn’t there.

Red.

She could remember red. Blazing, hot, boiling, shaking her. She could remember how bright it had been, how blinding it felt, she remembered red.

She remembered her world turning upside down, changing positions before her eyes.

She couldn’t remember ever leaving the car. She couldn’t remember this room.

She looked around, her eyes were burning, dry, and hot. She saw a bright light on the ceiling, she saw white all around her. When she turned her head, the slight movement sending a piercing pain down her entire body, she didn’t see anything but white and gray.

There were cabinets on the opposite side of the room, chairs next to the bed she was laying on, and cords coming from everywhere.

She tried flexing her fingers, making sure she could still feel her body. Nothing felt like it was gone, she could feel her fingertips against a rough sheet.

She wasn’t paralyzed.

She tried her toes next, bent them up and down, feeling the muscles in her foot tense and un-tense.

She definitely wasn’t paralyzed.

She was focused on listening to her heart, focusing on the consistent beat, the blood rushing through her veins.

And she was still focusing when someone walked in.

Her doctor explained the accident. He explained that when she felt like her world was turning upside down, shifting the wrong way, her car had rolled down a hill. He explained how long it took for anyone to come to get her and Spencer, explained how someone driving on the road heard screaming. He told her about the amount of blood she had lost, the pints that had drained out of her while she was flipped upside down.

That explained the red.

He told her about her broken ribs, the abdominal bleeding, the concussion she had managed to get in her car. He explained that she was healing fine, but that she hadn’t woken up for three days. He explained that she would’ve died if they had been ten minutes later, that she had lost much to blood to function any longer.

She focused on her breathing.

And when he was done, when he finally had explained everything, she only had one question to ask.

“Where is Spencer?”

The doctor hesitated. She could see that much, saw him lean back only slightly, saw his proud smile fade.

That wasn’t good.

Both of them heard the heart monitor speed up, listened to the beeping get faster. She looked over to the machine and then back to the doctor with panicked eyes.

Where was Spencer?

“No, no, no.” the doctor said, raising his hands as if to calm her down. “Spencer is alive.”

And while this was good news to her, made her feel much stronger than she felt a second ago, she wasn’t happy. She had seen the hesitation, saw the doctor pull back. There was still something wrong.

“Where is he?” she asked again, this time making her statement more clear.

“He’s... he’s in the hospital.” the doctor winced, looking away from her. “he’s in the ICU.”

The ICU. Intensive Care Unit. Spencer was in the ICU, the ICU meant danger. Oh god, oh god. He was going to die, he was going to die. ICU ICU.

The beeping sped up again, and her eyes flew around the room. She started to move, started to get up to get out of there so she could see him herself. She needed to see him. He was going to die he was going to die.

Pain blinded her as soon as she tried to sit up. It was freezing her, stopping her heart. She couldn’t breathe. How could a person be in so much pain?

“Woah, come on, lay back down.” the doctor said, moving her back to the bed. “I’m going to go get someone. I’ll be right back.”

And she couldn’t protest. She could barely even move.

The pain was circling her body, keeping her locked down to the bed.

It was several minutes before the doctor came back.

By then, the pain had started to fade out of her fingers, she was no longer blinded, but she still felt locked down. She looked over at him, trying to ignore the piercing that came with moving her eyes.

She needed to get herself under control. She needed to see Spencer.

At first, she didn't notice that there was someone following the Doctor. A woman who was much shorter than the doctor followed him into the room, stepping out from behind him.

Penelope.

Y/N had met her 2 years after she’d met Spencer, the two of them had become close friends and had become a pair from the first conversation.

Penelope.

She would know what was going on with Spencer, she would make everything okay, she would tell Y/N exactly what was going on, she would explain everything, it would all be okay. It would be fine. Penelope was here.

“Penelope.” she gasped out, her voice connecting with her thoughts. She watched her friend walk over to her, watched as her friend took her hand, watched as her friend smiled a hesitant smile at her.

She ignored the buzzing that came with Penelope touching her hand.

The doctor who stood by the doorway cleared his throat, and the two women looked over to him, he gave another half-smile. “I’m going to let her talk to you. I’ll be back in a little while to do an examination.” and with that, he walked out the door.

Y/N could care less.

She immediately looked over to Penelope, her eyes wide, her hands squeezing Penelope as a way to beg her to tell Y/N what was going on.

“It's nice to see you awake,” Penelope said, giving her the same hesitant smile, the one that she had worn when she walked in the room.

“Where's Spencer?” Y/N said, ignoring what her friend had said.

Penelope looked away from Y/N, careful not to say anything yet. Y/N’s question floated in the air, flying above their heads, begging to be answered.

“Pen. Where is he?” When Penelope still didn't answer, Y/N removed her hand from Penelopes, her eyes angry now. “What is going on?”

“The doctors said you would've died if they had waited any longer.” Was all Penelope replied, looking behind herself for a chair. Ignoring the fury in Y/N’s eyes, ignoring the questions that were floating above their heads.

“Penelope,” Y/N begged, trying to get her friend to just answer her.

“I was really worried about you.” she paused, finally looking back to Y/N. “Even after the doctors said you would be fine, I was really worried. We were not sure when you would wake up, how much pain you would be in…”

The reminder of the flame setting her body on fire did not help Y/N’s worry. She shifted uncomfortably in her bed.

“How do you feel Sugar?” Penelope asked, her face tense. Y/N had never seen her friend so serious, it seemed impossible for Penelope to go a minute without smiling, without making a joke that would brighten everyone’s mood. But now, she wasn't smiling, she wasn't laughing, and she was only making Y/N’s mood darker.

“I’m fine.”

Penelope gave her a look.

“I’m fine. I want to know what's going on? What aren't you telling me?” Y/N was feeling like she wanted to scream. She didn't like secrets. And she especially didn't like them when they were about Spencer.

Penelope sighed and looked down. She picked at one of her nails for a moment then looked back up. “Spencers in the ICU.”

“I know. The doctor told me that. But what's wrong with him? Can I see him? Is he going to die?” Just as the words left her mouth she could feel the pain intensify. He couldn't die. He wouldn't.

Penelope shook her head, looking back down at the floor.

“He got hurt in the accident,” she said, then paused and looked back up at Y/N. “He took most of the damage. He was crushed under the car, and they got you out first.” Penelope blinked rapidly as if she was trying not to cry. Everything she was saying was making Y/N more and more anxious. “He had to have brain surgery.”

Y/N took a shaky breath in. Her lungs burned in the air.

“W-why? What- Penelope what happened?”

“His brain was swelling, and” she laughed ironically “Spencer would be able to explain it better than I can. I honestly don't know.”

“Well is he okay?” Y/N asked, looking at Penelope with anxious eyes.

“He's alive.” Penelope shrugged. “The doctors say he could suffer extensive brain damage. They don't know yet.”

Y/N took a minute to think it over. It was a car accident. She’d gotten hurt. Spencer had gotten more hurt. He was alive though. He was alive. And he was in the hospital.

In the hospital.

“Can I go see him? I need to see him.” Y/N rattled out desperately, she started getting out of bed once again, moaning out at the pain, but refusing to lay back down. She had to see him.

“Hey, hey sweetheart. Come on, you can't go anywhere right now.” Penelope said, jumping out of her seat to help her friend, carefully pushing her back down on the bed. “You need to let your body heal Y/N.”

But Y/N looked at her angrily. “I need to see him! It's just a little pain, I need- I need to see him!” She pushed Penelope's hands away, forcing herself to keep moving, to get off the bed. She needed to go see him, she needed to be strong for Spencer, she needed to get out of bed. It was just a little pain, it was just a little bit of pain.

It was just a little-

She screamed out, her body shaking, every one of her nerves was being pinched, pulled, pricked at. She gasped out and tried not to let her body move anymore.

“Y/N?! Come on, lay down.”

But she was already flat against the bed. She was already frozen, stuck in the prison that was her pain. She couldn't move.

God, why couldn't she move?

She gasped. “Spencer,”

She didn't notice the doctor rushing back into the room, she didn't notice Penelope and him talking very loudly. She didn't notice how hard her heart was beating, the beeping that came with it. She didn't notice Penelope looking at her worried, she didn't notice the hand holding hers, she didn't notice anything.

But there was pain. There was so much pain.

She didn't notice the drugs filling her body, the pain medication shutting down her nerves, she didn't notice the doctor leaving the room.

She only started to wake up from her daze when the pain started to fade from her chest, the feeling going down second by second.

“Spencer,” she said when she thought she could breathe again.

“Y/N..” Penelope said, leaving over her bed, still holding her hand, her eyes still immensely worried.

“See... Him.” Y/N said, her breath going out at the words. Her throat was extremely dry now.

“Y/N,” Penelope said again, sighing and shaking her head. She waited a moment, then sighed again. “Spencers in a coma Y/N.”

Suddenly air didn't exist.

Suddenly pain wasn't enough to distract her.

Suddenly she couldn't breathe.

“The doctors don't know when he’ll wake up.” Penelope continued.

And suddenly Y/N understood why her doctor, why Penelope was hesitant to tell her the truth. They knew she wouldn't take well to the thought of her boyfriend never waking up.

Extensive brain damage.

Maybe she did need to rest.

***

Two weeks later, when Y/N was healed enough to go home, she screamed again.

It was time for her to go home.

Spencer hadn't woken up.

It was time for her to go home.

She still felt pain every time she tried to move, still felt her lungs, her ribs, her chest, burn out smoke whenever she tried to breathe, but she was walking. She could function almost completely normally. That was the deciding factor in her release from the hospital.

It was time for her to go home.

Spencer was still sleeping.

She had to leave. She had to leave him.

When the doctor came in the room, ready to hand her the paperwork, to kick her out, to leave her boyfriend in the hospital still in a coma while she was at home, to release her.

She screamed.

She fought everyone that came into the room. Every person that even tried to touch her.

She wasn't leaving. She wouldn't leave without him. She wouldn't.

She wouldn't stop screaming at them.

She wouldn't stop screaming, wouldn't stop kicking and hitting, she wouldn't stop, just wouldn't stop.

She was too focused on pushing a nurse away to notice the doctor next to her.

She was too late to stop him from sedating her.

She spent a week in the psych ward.

***

After that week no one tried to make her leave.

She spent a week sitting next to Spencer's bed until the nurses forced her out. She spent several hours of the day watching him breathe, watching to make sure he was still alive. As long as he was still alive she would be fine.

She tried not to cry in his room.

No one ever seemed to bother her in there.

When she wasn't in his room, she was sitting in her hospital bed, eating all the pudding she could find, watching bad TV. She tried not to think about anything when she wasn't with Spencer, she tried to get away from it all.

She didn't want to be sent back to the psych floor.

It only took a week.

168 hours.

She was told three hours after he woke up.

She’d been coloring on her bed, listening to the TV as background noise, shutting out the world, when her doctor came in with a seldom look on his face.

“What?” she asked quietly, not liking the look in his eyes, not liking the way her chest got tighter, the way her breathing got even slower.

She stared at him for a moment. Waited for him to say something.

And he did. “Mr. Reid is awake.”

That was all it took.

She was flying out of her bed, ignoring the doctors panicked look, she was ignoring everything, Spencer was awake. He was awake.

It had been four weeks.

He was awake.

She was slipping on her slippers, moving past her doctor, trying to get to the ICU as quickly as possible. She cursed herself for leaving so early, for not being there when he woke up. She should’ve been there.

She was walking out the door when her doctor gently grabbed one of her shoulders, stopping her from leaving the room.

She looked back at him irritated, he knew how much she’d been wanting to see Spencer, he was the only thing she ever talked about, why was he stopping her now?

“What?” she asked harshly, regretting the tone in her voice as soon as it came out. But she ignored her guilt, more focused on the sad look in the doctor's eyes.

She waited for him to speak. She knew it was serious, and she wasn't going to leave without an answer.

“There's unfortunate news.” He said quietly, avoiding her eyes.

“What?” she asked, immediately panicked. “What's wrong?”

“Spencer seems to be fully aware, he’s speaking fine, he seems to be fine.” Her doctor continued, and she looked at him confused. Spencer was fine?

“Then what's wrong?”

“Well... It seems that Mr. Reid has a completely different problem.” Her doctor paused, thinking of how he could explain this, how he could put it likely.

She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. Why was she still here if Spencer was fine?

“You see, Spencer, has suffered from retrograde amnesia.”

And no. Spencer definitely wasn't fine.

***

“So he just doesn't remember me?”

Her voice was all wrong. It was small and broken.

Spencer didn't remember her.

“Well,” her doctor said. They had moved to his office, as he had insisted she needed to listen and be away from everything else.

She didn't have the best track record in the hospital.

“There's always a chance he can gain memories back… but at the moment, yes he just doesn't remember you.”

She knew he was trying to be reassuring, knew that he was trying to tell her that it would just take time, that everything would be alright. She knew he knew how fragile she was.

The problem was, it just wasn't working. Reassurance couldn't help her.

Spencer didn't remember her. He didn't remember meeting her, or texting her for the first time, he didn't remember the way they looked at each other, he didn't remember the time he tried to make her breakfast and ended up waking her up in the process.

He didn't remember how nervous he was the day he asked her to move in with him, the smile on his face, the smile on her face when she said yes without any hesitation. He didn't remember their first kiss or first date.

He didn't remember falling in love with her.

How could she move on without him? How could she ever heal properly when he didn't know how in love they had been? How could she live without him?

“He has asked to see you though.”

She looked up from the floor. Shock filled her face. He wanted to see her? He knew about her?

The doctor must have read all the questions in her eyes because he then continued, “Your friends mentioned you... That's how we found out he had lost his memory. Now he wants to meet you. He doesn't really understand yet.”

She didn't understand. Why would he want to meet her?

“I can take you to see him now…”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I can- I can go. I- I should go.”

She left the doctor's office, ignoring the calls that followed her.

She wasn't thinking. She couldn't think anymore. Spencer didn't know who she was. He probably didn't even know her name.

But still.

She had to see him. She hadn't seen his eyes in weeks, hadn't heard him speak, she could barely remember the sound of his voice now. After weeks of just watching him breathe, just breathe, she had to see him awake. She needed to confirm that he was alive, that he was still awake.

That was all she needed.

She didn't think about how he would react to her, about how he didn't know anything about her, she wasn't thinking about any of it. She just needed to see him.

She walked down the hall, pressing on the elevator button incessantly.

She remembered the time Spencer had told her that she would actually cancel it out.

“The motor is just going to restart the process Y/N… slow down.”

She remembered laughing at him, and pressing the button again, just to tease him. She remembered him glaring at her, and taking her hand. She remembered him smiling at her when she pouted, then kissing her hand softly and walking into the elevator.

God, she needed to see him.

She walked into the elevator, avoiding eye contact with everyone else in the elevator. She was irritated. She wished she could just be there already. She sighed and leaned her head against the wall.

She’d been dreaming about his eyes for weeks. Thinking about him, what she would do if she couldn't have him anymore.

She rushed out of the elevator, running down the hall to the room she’d spent hours in, she got there, her lungs burning, her heart racing, the pain ringing up and down her body. She thought it was worth it.

And she was just about to open the door when Derek walked out.

And then she remembered.

Retrograde Amnesia.

He didn't remember her.

“Derek,” she whispered, trying to catch her breath.

“Y/N.. do you... Did the-”

“Yes I know,” she whispered quieter this time. She knew all about it.

Derek sighed out in relief, glad he wouldn't have to be the one to tell her. “I’ve told him about you. Not a lot. But enough for him to understand… do you want to go in?” He asked, looking down to meet her eyes.

And she thought about it. Felt the nerves crawling up her throat. She cleared her throat, hoping she could push them down, force them away. She didn't need them right now. “Um..” she breathed out, “I think- I think I’ll wait a minute.” she swallowed, her stomach bubbling. “If that's okay,” she said looking down.

“Of course Pretty Girl, take all the time you need.” Derek gave her a side hug, frowned at the anxious look in her eyes, and quickly sent out a wish that Spencer would remember this girl that they all loved so much soon. And then he went back to the room.

And she was alone again.

She was alone again, and she was going to stay alone. Spencer had been her person, had been her best friend for so long. She didn't know how to not feel lonely without him, didn't know how to get rid of the sinking feeling in her chest when he didn't know who she was.

She felt like crying at the hopeless thoughts that entered her brain. She didn't want to do this, she didn't want to be there.

She blinked back the stinging in her eyes.

She needed to see him.

She took a deep breath. A couple of days ago she’d still been worried he was going to die. Anything was better than him dying. This was better. This was fine.

She knocked on the door, not wanting to scare any of the people in the room, not wanting to let herself turn around.

Derek was the one who opened it. He gave her a sad smile, still noticing the anxiety that laid on her face, covering her entire body.

She looked past him.

Oh, god.

She saw him. She saw his eyes-

His eyes were wide, looking right into hers, they were the color she had missed, longed for, they were so familiar, so so familiar. They were her home. God, she hadn't seen his eyes, she hadn't seen him in weeks. It felt like a screen was being moved away from Spencer, that now he was awake she could finally see him.

She gasped, unexplainable tears rolling down her cheeks.

She wanted to run over to him, wanted to feel his warmth, to live in his scent, she wanted to be with him, she wanted the pain to go away, she just wanted to hold him.

He was looking at her worriedly. His eyes were darting back and forth from her and Derek, he looked panicked like he wasn't quite sure what to do.

Derek moved past her, resting his hand on her shoulder and squeezing it comfortingly. She’d forgotten he was there, too focused on the man in front of her.

Derek cleared his throat, looking between the pair. “So Reid, this is Y/N.”

She wiped her cheeks off, embarrassed that she had started crying, and gave him a wave.

“Hello,” Spencer said, his voice raw from weeks of not talking, his tone worried still.

She tried not to freak out at the sound of his voice.

It still sounded the same.

She laughed emotionlessly. She looked down at the floor.

“Hey Spence-” she paused. Reminding herself. “-Spencer.”

It was a minute of silence. When Y/N finally looked up, she saw how worried his eyes still looked, how concerned he seemed even though they had technically just met.

She hated it.

“Well..” Derek said, drawing out the word. “I’m going to let you guys introduce yourself’s. I need some coffee.”

With that, he left the room.

Leaving the two of them, together, alone, and uncomfortable.

Eventually, Spencer spoke up. “It's um-” he cleared his throat. “It's nice to meet you.”

Y/N laughed again. Surprising herself with the sound. She looked past him, out the window, wishing that she could disappear.

She hated this. She hated that he didn't know her. She wanted to hug him.

When she stayed silent, Spencer tried again. “I’m sorry I can't remember,” he whispered quietly. Almost ashamed of himself, almost like it was his fault that all of this was happening.

She looked back at him. She knew that expression well. She felt like she could feel exactly what he was thinking. She was quick to stop it.

“No. It's not your fault Spencer,” she reassured, stepping closer to him. “It's unfortunate. But it's not your fault. Please don't feel bad. It’ll only make me feel worse.” she whispered the last part quietly.

Spencer looked back at her, searching her eyes, looking for answers. He’d been hoping that he would remember her as soon as he saw her. He was hoping her appearance, her eyes would set something off in his brain, hoping he would know the girl his friends had been telling him about.

He didn't see anything except a colorless girl. Nothing except the tears she’d spilled for him.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

She looked back at him. A frown on her face, one that felt like it would never go away, her eyes almost angry. “Why?” she asked.

Spencer shook his head. She didn't need to know. She just needed to know he was sorry.

He quickly asked her if she wanted to sit down. Looking for anything to fill the silence between them. She agreed, just so he would stop looking so guilty.

They both sat there in the hospital room, silent. There was nothing either of them could say, nothing that would make the situation any better.

And then they both spoke at the same time.

“So how are you feeling-”

“I want to remember you-”

And then both of them looked shocked. Surprised that the other had something to say.

Y/N was the first to speak up.

“You want to remember me?” she asked, her mouth dropped down in disbelief.

“I mean-” Spencer stuttered, her expression making him nervous. He had never been good with girls. “I want you to help me… remember you.”

Y/N just stared at him. She hadn't been expecting anything from him. In fact, she’d been expecting a goodbye. She thought that after not knowing who she was, after not remembering why he fell in love with her, he wouldn't want to bother trying. Why try to bring back something that was gone?

She shouldn't have been surprised. Spencer always did the thing she least expected.

Even this new version of him, the one that had no idea who she was.

“You want to remember me?” She asked, in a whisper, her voice barely there.

Spencer was quick to speak up this time. “Derek and Garica, they told me about you. They explained all the important details of our relationship…. In fact,” he laughed a little bit, remembering only a couple of hours ago. “It seemed like they were the ones in love with you.”

Y/N gave another humorless chuckle, still shocked.

“They made you seem amazing. I think you seem worth remembering,” he said, trying to get her to meet his eyes. Still looking for the spark, for the memory in his brain.

When she looked up, her eyes meeting his, he still found nothing.

“You want to remember?” she asked again, just for clarification, just to be sure this was what he wanted.

“If you are up to helping me?” he asked hopefully.

And she thought of his expression earlier, thought of how worried, how concerned he had looked. She thought about all the years she had spent with him, the years she had never needed anything but him. She thought about the person she knew Spencer to be, and the person he had no idea she was.

She nodded. Trying to find her voice.

“Okay,” she said, her voice shaking as she tried to numb down the pain, the thought of having to remind Spencer who she was.

Spencer smiled though, looking finally content since the moment she had walked in the room. “Okay,” he repeated after her.

And looking into his eyes, she decided.

At that moment she decided that Spencer was the most important thing. She didn't want to see him upset, she didn't want to see him uncomfortable, didn't want to see him worried, didn't want him to feel guilty for something he couldn't control.

At that moment she decided she would be numb for him. She would not feel the pain, not feel anything. She would just help him. She would do it for him.

She smiled then.

An emotionless void.

hehe see “the beginning” meaning this isn't the end. don't worry.

my masterlist here.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds rp #criminal minds headcanons #mgg #mgg x reader #mgg blurb #mgg fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction

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everlarkficexchange · 3 years

Text

Hanging in the Balance

Written by: @ameliaodair

Prompt #29: I want to request a fic where Katniss and Peeta almost lose their first child and it makes their love and relationship even stronger. [submitted by anonymous]

The prompt pretty much says it all. On their way to visit Katniss’s mother, Katniss, Peeta, and their daughter fight for their lives. When Peeta wakes from the devastating crash, his life— and Katniss’s are forever changed as their sweet, baby girl has the fight of her life, with her life hanging in the balance.

Thanks to the amazing @taylerwrites for her magical beta skills!

Rated T for difficult situations

Warnings: (almost) losing a child

Hanging in the Balance

“How long has it been since the last time we saw your mother?” Keeping his eyes focused on the road and his hands firmly gripped on the steering wheel, Peeta glanced over to Katniss, his beautiful wife of six years.

“I don’t know, maybe … Actually, I think the last time we saw her was just after Prim was born; oh my god, I can’t believe it’s been that long. Oh, Peeta, did you rem—” Katniss tensed up, thinking they had forgotten an important item on their checklist.

“Calm down, Katniss. Trust me,” Peeta gave his wife a charming, yet reassuring smile and reached for her hand. “I went over the list three times before we even left the house, and then once more after loading the car up. We didn’t forget a single thing. And if, by chance, there is something we forgot, I’m sure it can be duplicated at the nearest department store.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Katniss murmured, catching a glimpse of the back of their daughter’s head before slowly relaxing into the passenger seat next to her husband.

“In fact, I’m almost certain we brought enough stuff with us to stay for a year,” Peeta gently joked with his wife, in hopes of easing her nerves. He knew the real reason for Katniss’s high-strung demeanor, and her incessant need to be in complete control. She had lost her younger sister when she was just a little girl and it nearly broke her. Peeta still wasn’t convinced she had recovered from that loss.

Katniss and Peeta were childhood sweethearts. While Peeta knew from the moment he entered his kindergarten classroom that he was destined to be with the beautiful girl with the stunning grey eyes, raven-colored braids down either side of her face, and a voice that could bring a stuttering, toothpaste-stained shirt little boy to his knees, it took Katniss a little longer. It required some convincing, but Peeta was persistent and finally, at seven-years-old, Katniss accepted his friendship-invitation. And the lovesick fool that Peeta was decided he would take what he could get. So, for years, they were friends— best friends.

Peeta was there the day Katniss’s sister, Prim, died. He had sat next to Katniss, gripping her hand like a lifeline while they stood vigil by Prim’s bedside, and watched as she took her final breaths. And it broke him too, but not like Katniss. She was devastated beyond belief— for so long. And for so many years after that devastating tragedy, Katniss vowed to never have children … she could not bear to love another person with so much of her heart, only to have them ripped from her life. They dated for five years before she finally agreed to marry him. And then it was another four years before she agreed, and quite apprehensively, to try for a family.

“I think I’m going to get off at the next stop for some gas and we can stretch our legs. It’ll be nighttime soon and I’d rather you guys not wander around in the dark in some backwoods city I don’t know.”

“You worry too much, Peeta,” Katniss chided, taking Peeta’s hand and entwining their fingers. She brought their conjoined hands up to her lips and placed a kiss against the crest of his knuckles. That’s why they were perfect together— because they balanced each other out. When one was overcome with fear and anxiety, the other was always there to level the other one out.

Peeta got off at the next exit and followed the signs to the nearest gas station, which was less than a mile away.

“Don’t go to the Shell, go to SHEETZ,” Katniss pleaded with her husband when she saw the direction he was headed.

“Why? Shell has better gas.”

“SHEETZ has cleaner bathrooms. Please baby,” Katniss whined, knowing the use of the pet name, in addition to giving him the wide, puppy-dog-eyes would be enough to melt his hesitation.

“Okay,” he conceded, “Anything for my girls,” he gave Katniss’s hand another squeeze as he stopped at the four-way intersection and then gently accelerated on the gas when he saw the coast was clear. Ever since their daughter, Prim was born, Peeta drove like an old man instead of a man in his late twenties— precious cargo and all.

“PEETA!!!!!” Katniss screamed when a set of headlights came barreling straight for them.

“Mr. Mellark? Mr. Mellark, can you hear me?” Peeta opened his eyes and tried to sit up. “Mr. Mellark, how many fingers am I holding up?” The uniformed man asked him as he waved his fingers in front of his face and shined a flashlight into his eyes.

“Three. Where’s my wife? Where is Prim?” Peeta responded, shoving the medic’s hand out of his face as he attempted to sit up again. “Where am I?” Peeta demanded, turning his head from side to side, surveying the small space he was in and called for his wife, “Katniss?” But she wasn’t anywhere in sight; as far as he could see, he was alone in the ambulance with these three strangers— medics.

“Sir, please calm down. You were in an accident. My name is Pollux and I am a paramedic. You have sustained some rather severe injuries. We are rushing you and your family to the nearest hospital.”

Adrenaline flooded Peeta’s veins, his heart accelerated until he was fuming, “WHERE is my wife and my daughter? Where are they? Are they okay? Please, you have to tell me,” he demanded, oblivious to the steadily increasing beeping in the background and needing some answers before his anxiety consumed him.

“They were air-lifted from the scene of the accident; we should be arriving at the hospital any moment now. We’ll know more upon arrival,” Pollux offered sympathetically and craned his neck to his shoulder to speak into the microphone attached to his uniform, “Hey Castor, what’s our ETA?”

Peeta didn’t realize there was already an IV connected into his arm, or that the paramedic injected something into it, which was the reason everything went black.

2 days later:

“Well! There are those marvelous blue eyes I have been hearing about! Good morning Mr. Mellark, my name is Dr. Trinket.”

When Peeta opened his eyes, everything was fuzzy at first. He blinked a few times until his vision slowly adjusted, and this Dr. Trinket came into view. She was a beautiful doctor, there was no denying that. Probably in her mid to late thirties with short, curly, blonde hair— so blonde it almost looked pink … and she was in the traditional hospital scrubs you normally see doctors wearing.

‘Seriously, bright pink scrubs?’ Peeta thought, wondering if he could go blind just by looking at her for too long.

“Can you tell me your name and date of birth?” Dr. Trinket asked him, shining a light into his eyes. “Good, good. Pupils are equal and reactive.”

Peeta recited his name and birthday for Dr. Trinket, and she nodded, satisfied with his response. “Do you know where you are?” Dr. Trinket asked, checking his reflexes.

“Um … a hospital?” Peeta thought that seemed obvious.

“And do you recall the circumstances that brought you here?”

Peeta closed his eyes and tried to pull the memory from his mind, only to come up empty.

“Mr. Mellark, you were in an accident,” Dr. Trinket began filling in the blanks for him, “You suffered a slight concussion in addition to a hairline fracture to your femur. After assessment upon your arrival to Tribute Center Regional Medical Facilities, you were rushed into surgery to repair your injuries. You have a splint on your leg and should heal just fine. I foresee a speedy recovery as long as you stay off your legs. Do you have any questions for me?”

Flashes came sputtering back, hitting the back of his eyelids like one of those slow, stop-motion picture films from Dr. Trinket’s words. “M-my w-wife and daughter—” Peeta croaked, his voice still dry and hoarse from days of not using it.

“Nurse, nurse, can we please get Mr. Mellark some form of oral hydration to quench his thirst?” Dr. Trinket pressed the call button on the remote by his bed and spoke into the intercom, “I bet you are just parched, aren’t you Mr. Mellark?” As upbeat and gregarious as the lovely Dr. Trinket appeared to be, he was not fooled by her deflection.

Before he had the opportunity to ask about his family again, a woman with kind eyes entered the room, carrying a styrofoam pitcher of water, a small tower of cups, and a handful of straws. She poured Peeta a cup of water and offered it to him.

“Thank you,” Peeta smiled at the woman, who returned his smile, and then disappeared from the room just as quickly as she entered.

Peeta took a long sip of water through the straw and wasn’t sure anything had ever tasted so good in his life. But then he met Dr. Trinket’s eyes and asked the question that was looming over them once again, “My wife? My daughter? K-Katniss and Primrose Mellark?”

Dr. Trinket’s face fell, and then she looked at him with so much pity, which only compelled Peeta to immediately jump to conclusions.

“No, no, they can’t be!” He cried, covering his face with his hands.

“Oh, no! No, no, my apologies Mr. Mellark. Your wife currently rests in a medically induced coma. She had some minor swelling on her brain, so the doctors felt it was necessary to allow her body adequate time to heal. She should be waking at any moment and her prognosis is optimistic!”

Peeta took another sip of water and braced himself for what came next, “And P-Primrose, m-my daughter?” Peeta faltered, afraid of her response. She was barely two years old; if he and Katniss were injured this badly, what happened to her? She was so tiny, she was—

“Your daughter’s—”

“Prim,” Peeta insisted. If his daughter’s condition was as critical as he feared, he would not allow the staff in this hospital to treat her as another ‘number’. He’d heard of horror stories and patients being neglected because of arrogant doctors. No, they would call her by her name.

“My apologies; Prim is in the pediatric intensive care unit. I do not know much about her case, but your daughter’s doctor will stop by shortly with an update on her status. I shall page him now to inform him that you are finally conscious. His name is Dr. Abernathy.”

“Okay,” Peeta nodded.

“I must warn you Mr. Mellark, Dr. Abernathy may come off a bit abrasive, his bedside manner needs much work, but—"

“Is he good? Will he save my baby?” Peeta implored; he could care less about the doctor’s bedside manner, all he cared about was if the man was good at his job. All he cared about was if he could save his baby girl.

“I may be a bit bias … but yes. He is the best. It is a fact that he is a world-renowned critical care pediatric surgeon. You will not find a more qualified physician in all of Panem.”

“O-okay, that’s good,” Peeta stuttered, feeling more optimistic as Dr. Trinket walked toward the door.

“Um … Dr. Trinket, if you don’t mind me asking, but why are you biased towards this doctor?”

“He is my husband,” Dr. Trinket answered proudly. “Oh, and please call me Effie, ‘Doctor Trinket’ is my mother … and besides, it makes me sound so old!”

“Mr. Mellark, I’m Haymitch,” a man with scruffy blonde hair covering his eyes strutted into the room. He had a white coat just like the other doctors Peeta had seen cruising the hallways, but this man looked far from any doctor he had ever met. Sure, he had the arrogance the other doctors seemed to have in spades, but he did not share the chiseled and clean-shaven faces he had witnessed on some of the other medical staff. He looked up, and above the breast pocket of this man’s jacket, the name, Dr. H. Abernathy, was inscribed in elegant script onto his coat.

So, this was Dr. Abernathy, Peeta thought. “It’s— it’s Peeta. Y-you have news about my daughter?”

“Yes, Primrose Ellis Mellark, twenty-six-month female,” Haymitch began, flipping through his notes. Then he dragged a chair across the room, its legs scraping against the floor, finally planting it next to Peeta’s bed before he took a seat in it— backwards. Dr. Abernathy— Haymitch put his notes away and crossed his arms over the back of the chair to look Peeta in the eye.

Yes, this was unlike any doctor I’ve ever come across before, Peeta thought to himself, but not necessarily in a bad way.

“Mr. Mellark, Peeta, I ain’t gonna lie to ya, yer little girl is in pretty bad shape. Thankfully, she was properly strapped in the car seat, and rear-facing at that— which is what will probably save her life. Most parents don’t follow the PAP guidelines—”

“I’m sorry, what is PAP?”

“Oh, my bad— I mean … sorry. It’s the Panem Academy of Pediatrics— you know, the guidelines— uh, the riff-raff of all the do’s and don'ts pertaining to childcare and whatnot. Anyhow, most parents turn their kids around before it’s time so they can see them … but uh— yeah— she’s beat up pretty bad, we’ve removed all the shards of glass from her skin and stitched up all the residual lacerations.” Peeta cringed at the doctor’s extensive description of his daughter. “She suffered some internal damage to her organs—”

“When c-can I see her?” Peeta stammered, interrupting the doctor and fighting back tears that were threatening to spill over.

“Soon. I’ll have someone page your nurse once she’s stabilized, and then we’ll get someone to bring ya up there. Ya got any other questions?” Haymitch asked Peeta, squirming to get out of the chair.

“Has … has anyone told Katniss— my wife?” Peeta warily asked the doctor. Part of him was hoping that Haymitch had already told her, while deep inside he knew it had to be him to deliver this crushing blow.

“No, not yet. I have to round on a few patients and then I’ll be stoppin’ by her room.”

Peeta gulped, “Would it—”

“Sure kid, it’s all yours. It’ll save me the trouble of havin’ to do it,“ Haymitch gruffed.

Geez, Dr. Trinket wasn’t kidding about his bedside manner, Peeta silently ruminated, all the while, wondering how in the world those two were married.

“Katniss? Katniss, baby, can you hear me?” One of the nurses hunted down a wheelchair and rolled Peeta into Katniss’s room. The sight of her broke his heart. She was lying there, unconscious and connected to an assortment of tubes and wires. As he sat by Katniss’s side, he found comfort in the steady beep, beep of her heart monitor, which he hoped was a good sign. He reached for her hand, holding it in his own, and closed his eyes, silently willing her to wake up.

I … I can’t do this alone; please Katniss, please wake up, with a quivering lip, he silently pleaded to her.

“Shouldn’t she be awake by now?” Peeta looked up and asked the nurse.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Mellark, but it isn’t an exact science. Patients can wake up anywhere between a few hours, to a few days once they’re weaned off the medication.” Katniss’ nurse, Annie informed him with a sympathetic smile.

“It’s okay, I understand.” Although Peeta was frustrated, he knew it wasn’t Annie’s fault and forced a smile to his lips.

Peeta wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he first arrived in Katniss’s room. He had already twice refused to return to his own room; he didn’t care about himself. All they wanted him to do in his room was rest, and he was perfectly capable of doing that from the comfort of his wife’s room, if not better. If he went back to his room all he would do is worry; at least in Katniss’s room, which was just across the hall, he could attempt getting a little rest.

“Mr. Mellark?” Annie slowly crept into the room. Peeta had fallen asleep in the chair next to Katniss’s bed, the cramp in his neck proof of the poor position he was in.

He jerked up when he heard Annie’s voice. “I know you don’t want to leave her side, but Doctor— I mean Haymitch just called and said we could bring you up to see your daughter. Would you like to—”

Peeta jolted up from his chair, forgetting about the injury to his leg for a moment until the pain shot up his spine.

“Oh no, no, no, I will get your wheelchair and take you up there. You wouldn’t make it to the elevators,” Annie smiled.

Annie rolled his wheelchair in from outside the room and wheeled Peeta to the PICU floor.

“So, does everyone call Dr. Abernathy by his first name?” Peeta tried to fill the uncomfortable silence with small talk.

Annie chuckled from behind him. “Yeah. He and Dr. Trinket— Effie; they don’t like formalities. They claim it helps eliminate the doctor/patient barrier; something about trust and bonding.” Peeta nodded and thought, ‘Yeah, I guess that makes sense.’

“Okay, I guess … I can see that. Have you worked here long? Do you know … is he a good doctor?” Peeta hoped he wasn’t being too intrusive, he just needed to know if Haymitch was as qualified to care for his daughter as Effie claimed.

“Haymitch? Oh, yes … he’s the best. If it were my son lying in a hospital bed— no matter where in the world I was, I would want Haymitch as his doctor. Heck, I would gladly pay him whatever he wanted and have him flown to whatever corner of the world I was in.”

“Wow, that’s … impressive. So, you have a son?”

“Yes, Nick is four years old,” Annie stopped and flipped her name badge over, stretching it out in front of Peeta’s line of sight to reveal a picture of a little boy with the greenest eyes, and wavy, sun kissed golden-blonde hair.

“He’s adorable … he’s going to be a heartbreaker when he’s older,” Peeta smiled, his heart aching to hold his own daughter.

“Thank you. His name is Finnick— well, Finnick Junior, after his father, but we just call him Nick. Oh, look! We’re here!”

Annie wheeled him into the PICU and spoke with one of the nurses who helped him to the “Scrub Room.” ‘Johanna’ first demonstrated the process of “scrubbing down,” which meant vigorously washing your hands with a medical scrub brush that contained a special, hospital-grade antiseptic soap. When it was his turn, Peeta “scrubbed” for exactly three minutes while Johanna stood over him, observing with her stopwatch in hand throughout the entire process. On the one hand, it made him feel self-conscious, but on the other hand, he was glad the staff was this precise. Then she checked his temperature, because, under no circumstances was anyone permitted to enter the unit with a temperature above 100.3. The last step was donning a sterile gown, gloves, and a facial mask before finally being allowed to see his daughter.

“So, if someone leaves and comes right back just a few minutes later, they have to do this all over again?” Peeta asked Johanna.

“Every single time—no exceptions. Hospital policy—or, well, Haymitch’s policy,” Johanna chuckled.

Prim looked so tiny in the incubator she was lying in, it reminded him of the ones you see premature babies in. It brought back memories of the day Katniss gave birth to their daughter, Peeta, silently thanking the heavens that his and Katniss’s newborn baby was full-term and healthy. He just hoped luck was on their side this time, too.

Peeta’s entire body quivered with trepidation when his eyes landed on his daughter. Prim was covered in stitches— they stretched across her entire body; on her arms, legs, her chest, and covered a majority of her face and head. It looked like they even had to shave a portion of her hair to place some of the stitches. She had IVs inserted in both her arms, a tube down her throat, and a tiny nasal cannula blowing oxygen into her nostrils. Peeta’s eyes began to sting from the sight of his beautiful Primrose, and the closer he inched toward her, the harder his eyes stung. Until finally, the dam broke, and the tears began pouring from his eyes, followed by uncontrollable sobs escaping his entire body.

“Oh, Primmie baby, I am so sorry. Daddy is so sorry; do you hear me?” Peeta cried to his little girl.

“Is she … will she make it? Do you think— can she— will she survive this?” Peeta looked up, meeting the nurse’s eyes, and wiping his face with the back of his sleeve.

“I honestly cannot give you a definitive answer Mr. Mellark. These little ones tend to have a mind of their own. Right now, it’s kind of touch and go. I would say that if she makes it through the night, then she’s got a standing chance. But I’m going to tell you something, I’ve seen babies much worse than your daughter bounce right back, but— on the flip side, I’ve seen others with barely any injuries—” Her words trailed off, hesitant to complete her sentence, but Peeta knew what she meant.

They didn’t make it. Peeta sucked in a breath, mustering all the courage he had to be strong for his daughter. What would he do if Prim di— if she … he couldn’t even think the word without his chest feeling as if thousand-pound bricks were smothering him.

“Why is that? What makes the difference?” He forced the words out. If Prim was to survive this, he needed to know.

“I think … Now, this is just my opinion, but I truly believe it depends on how hard they’re willing to fight. Their will, their drive to live. Right now, I would say, and perhaps this does nothing to ease your mind, but … hope and pray. As a veteran PICU nurse, I truly believe in the power of prayer. Talk to your daughter and let her know that you are waiting for her; that you are counting on her to survive this.” Peeta nodded, understanding what the nurse meant. “Give that beautiful little girl something to fight for,” Prim’s nurse finished with a kind smile.

“What was your name again? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch it, and how long will you be Prim’s nurse?”

“My name is Portia Rose, and I’ll be here all night,” the kind nurse replied, with an equally as kind smile. Peeta wondered if it was fate that brought them together. His daughter, named after Katniss’s lost sister, and this ‘Portia Rose,’ their names having an uncanny similarity.

“Peeta, Peeta what happened?” Katniss croaked, knowing something was wrong the moment her eyes opened and her husband’s tear-streaked face came into focus.

“Katniss, there was an accident. What is the last thing you remember?”

“I remember, we were going to the gas station … you wanted to stop before it got dark. We … we were on our way to see Mom … and then … and then … Peeta, what happened? Where is Prim?” Katniss asked, pushing herself up with her hands to straighten her position in the bed.

Water pooled in Peeta’s eyes and he bit down on the inside of his cheek to stop the flow of tears. He had to be strong for Katniss, he couldn’t show weakness, not yet. Not now.

Peeta poured Katniss a cup of water and handed it to her. “Here sweetie, I bet you’re thirsty.”

Katniss took the cup and pulled the water into her mouth, “Peeta, you’re scaring me. W-what happened?”

“Katniss, we were in an accident; w-we were hit head-on by a drunk driver.”

Katniss felt the heat spread through her face, and then slowly, it radiated to the tips of her fingers and toes. “And Prim?” She asked hesitantly, suddenly feeling nauseous and dizzy.

“She’s okay for right now. The doctors are taking really good care of her.”

“Okay, that’s good. That’s really good,” Katniss smiled. Peeta could see the tears welling up in her eyes and knew she was biting down on the inside of her cheek to quell her tears as she nodded. He instantly knew that something wasn’t right; this was the opposite of how Katniss should have reacted. His Katniss would be screaming, throwing a fit— demanding to get out of the hospital bed, adamant to see her daughter. But this was more like … like denial. He saw this once before … when her father died. Granted, that was years and years ago when they were barely teenagers.

Peeta observed Katniss for a few hours, occasionally leaving to check on his daughter. He knew the staff in the PICU were taking exceptional care of his daughter, and something told him his wife needed him more. After his most recent visit to Prim in the PICU, he made sure that Portia knew how to reach him in case … in case she needed him.

When Katniss was given “out of bed” privileges, she walked around the room, cheerful and full of smiles as she chatted jubilantly with her mother on the phone. She acted as if their daughter’s life wasn’t hanging in the balance just a few floors above them.

“Mom’s on her way Peeta, she should be here tomorrow,” Katniss informed Peeta after placing her phone on the bedside table.

Concerned for his wife’s emotional stability, Peeta spoke with one of Katniss’ nurses to find out when he could take her to their daughter.

“I don’t see why it should be a problem, she does seem to be basking in the river of ‘De Nile’,” Dr. Cinna noted, trying to lighten the mood. “Perhaps seeing Primrose with her own eyes will open her mind to the truth,” Peeta smiled, shaking Dr. Cinna’s hand; he was the first one to refer to their daughter by her name unprompted, and Prim wasn’t even his patient. It was at this time that Peeta decided that he liked Dr. Cinna— that he was perhaps his favorite doctor as of yet. Dr. Cinna provided Peeta with a wheelchair for Katniss, after first making sure Peeta’s legs were strong enough to haul her to the elevator.

“Come on Katniss, let’s go see our girl,” Peeta suggested, rolling the wheelchair up to Katniss’ bedside.

“Okay, sure. Mom’s on her way Peeta, she should be here tomorrow.”

“That’s good Katniss, I’m glad,” Peeta tried to feign enthusiasm. He frowned, wondering if she realized she just told him this only minutes ago.

Peeta wheeled his wife to the elevators and then pushed the “12” button that would deliver them to the PICU unit. He followed the arrows and pressed the button on the intercom, waiting patiently for someone to answer them. Johanna immediately recognized him, and took them through the same procedure from earlier of scrubbing down, a temperature check, and donning the sterile gown, gloves, and mask before Johanna led them to their daughter.

“Peeta, what— what are we doing here? I thought you were taking me to Prim?” Katniss asked, all traces of joy disintegrating as she was wheeled to Prim’s bedside.

“Katniss, honey— this is—”

“Oh, baby! Prim, baby, oh my God, what, how—” Katniss’ eyes filled with tears as she craned her neck up to meet Peeta’s eyes.

“No, no. NO!” Katniss screamed, standing up from her wheelchair, glaring daggers at Peeta. “NO, this is NOT happening!” Katniss shrieked, bolting from the room. Peeta did not follow her, he knew she needed time. The wheelchair was only precautionary, Katniss’s main injury was the concussion, which had healed during her medically induced coma.

He pulled a chair up to his daughter’s bedside, stuck his gloved hand inside the isolette and began to stroke her tiny hand. He needed her to know he was here for her and he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Oh, my sweet, sweet baby girl. My beautiful, beautiful, Primrose; Mommy, and Daddy are here for you and we’re not going anywhere, do you hear me? Mommy is just scared right now, and she will be back really soon. Oh, Primmie— we love you so, so much and we need you to get better. Oh, Prim; I know you probably don’t know this, or understand it, but you are the light of our lives. You have to get better, okay? Please fight, Primrose; you have to fight. I don’t think Mommy would survive if we lost you, I don’t know if I would survive. I know that’s a lot of pressure to put on such a little girl, but … but—” Peeta closed his eyes, held his head down, and did something he hadn’t done since he was a boy.

He prayed.

“If there is anyone out there who can hear me, anyone at all, I—” Peeta began, pleading with the powers that be as he sniffled, wiping his eyes with his free arm. “Please save my girl, she is my world, my everything. And— and my wife— Katniss needs her Primrose. I’ll do anything; if it’s a life you want— or need, take mine instead. Prim is just a baby; she hasn’t had time to live yet. She still needs her first day in kindergarten, her first best friend—a first boyfriend and a first heartbreak. I’ve lived, I’ve had all those things and more. I’ve lived a happy life, but please, just please, don’t take my girl.”

“Prim …” Peeta began after a moment, hoping to reach out to the sister Katniss lost so many years ago, “if you’re out there, and you can hear me, please … please look over our girl. Please, don’t … you can’t take her, it’s not her time,” Peeta sniffed again, his head perking up from the sound of footsteps behind him.

“Mr. Mellark?” It was Dr. Abernathy— Haymitch, looking no worse for the wear.

“Hi, Dr. Aber—”

“Haymitch. Call me Haymitch.”

Peeta nodded and met the man’s eyes, “Peeta.”

“Peeta, we’ve done everything we can for your girl, now it’s up to her.”

“What does that mean?” Peeta asked with a befuddled raise of his brow.

“It means that medically speaking, there is nothing more I can do for your girl. Now, it’s up to her, whether or not she’s willing to fight. If she gains consciousness before the night’s over, I am optimistic that, in time, she’ll make a full recovery.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Peeta asked, trembling with fear as he awaited the doctor’s answer.

“Then it’s not likely she’ll wake up at all, and then … we’ll discuss extraordinary measures. But let’s not cross that bridge until we get to it. In my experience, kids will fight to live if they have somethin’ ta fight for.”

“Thank you, Dr.— Haymitch. I … I need to find my wife— what are visiting hours?”

“I’ve cleared it with the nurses; you and your wife can stay as long as you want.”

“Thank you,” Peeta smiled and shook Haymitch’s hand, eager to find Katniss. As he made his exit from the PICU, he noticed Haymitch taking the seat next to his daughter and cleared his throat. Peeta slowed his pace, straining to hear what the doc had to say.

Haymitch cleared his throat once more and began to speak in a soft and gentle voice that Peeta almost didn’t recognize from the hardened doctor. But it was— without a doubt, him. “Listen, sweetheart, I know you don’t know me and all, but my name’s Haymitch and I’m your doctor. I know you’re little and all and you probably don’t understand how the world works, so, I’m gonna tell ya. You see, doctors give orders and patients are s’pposed ta listen. I’m the doctor, you’re the patient, got it? Alright, well now that that’s settled, I’m ordering you to stay alive, alright kid? That’s all you gotta do; stay alive. I’ll do the rest.”

With that, Peeta went on a quest for his wife, knowing his daughter was in good hands.

After Peeta wheeled Katniss to their daughter’s bed, it all hit Katniss like a ton of bricks. That was her daughter lying in that miniature hospital bed. Her Primrose. She had already lost one Primrose; she wouldn’t survive losing another— she just wouldn’t. Unable to face the truth, she ran from the room and took the elevators to the top floor. Once she exited the elevator, she went to the nearest door, which led to a stairway. She took the steps two at a time and passed through another door that opened up to the roof.

Katniss ran to the edge, leaning against the banister; not to jump, but just to look out into the sky.

For the first hour, she cried. She cried and cried, trying her best to convince herself that wasn’t her Prim lying in that bed, but someone else’s baby. It couldn’t be her daughter, it just couldn’t. The universe couldn’t be that cruel, right? But deep down, she knew it was. And then, she was consumed with guilt—for wishing that fate upon someone else’s child.

During the following hour, she did something she hadn’t done since she was small, since her own parents forced her to do it. She didn’t necessarily believe there wasn’t a God exactly, but she didn’t really believe there was one either. But what if there was? Would he still listen to her after all the years of silence?

Deciding it was worth the risk, on the off chance there was some kind of higher power out there, she begged, she pleaded for them to save her little girl. And then, she resorted to begging, dropping to her knees as she bargained her life away. She didn’t know that at the same exact time, her husband was doing precisely— the same exact thing. She was on her knees sobbing when she heard the door whoosh open, her husband’s beautiful blue eyes piercing into her own grey ones.

“Katniss, are you okay?” Peeta asked her, worry glazing over him from the sight of her on her knees.

She wanted his comfort, needed it even. But then, she was angry at him. No, not angry, but furious, enraged. This was all his fault, after all.

“Go away!” She shouted at him, seething with rage.

“Katniss, what?” Peeta shrunk back, hurt by her rejection.

“This is all your fault Peeta. If you hadn’t— YOU’RE the one who wanted kids, not me. If YOU hadn’t convinced me to have kids, this wouldn’t be happening. We wouldn’t be losing her.” Katniss stood up and inched herself closer to Peeta, sending him a cold, icy, glare.

“You don’t mean that Katniss,” Peeta told her, holding his stance with pain-filled eyes. He knew deep down that she was just hurt and needed to channel her frustrations elsewhere. Lashing out at him was the easiest, and fastest way to achieve that goal.

The closer Katniss got to Peeta, the angrier she became. The tears began streaming down her face until she could no longer hold back the uncontrollable sobs. She began hitting and pounding her fist against his chest, she was so angry. But Peeta didn’t budge. He didn’t try and stop her, he just stood there, taking each hit and allowing her to use him as her own personal punching bag. He knew it wasn’t actually him she was angry at, she just needed somewhere to divert her anger.

Peeta pulled Katniss into his arms and within seconds she ceased pounding his chest. He held her, crying his own silent tears while Katniss sobbed in his arms. Once the tears subsided, Katniss looked up to see the pained expression on her husband’s face, in addition to the tears streaking his cheeks and she felt … guilty.

“I’m sorry Peeta, I’m so sorry. Oh, Peeta, I— I’m sorry, I didn’t mean what I said.”

“Shhh, sshhh. I know, I know,” Peeta whispered into her ear, stroking circles against her back as he tried to comfort her.

“I can’t lose her Peeta, I— I won’t survive if I lose her.”

“I know Katniss, I know. Me too. But … but I won’t survive if I lose you. So, let’s pull ourselves together, go to our baby girl and give her something to fight for,” Katniss sniffled and nodded her head. Together, they walked back to the PICU to be with their daughter.

They re-entered the PICU and headed straight for Prim, only to see a swarm of nurses huddled in a circle; in what looked like them holding vigil at their daughter’s bedside. One look on their faces and Katniss and Peeta knew something was wrong— devastatingly so.

“I’m so sorry Mr. and Mrs. Mellark, her vitals are steadily declining. It won’t be much longer now; would you like to hold her before— before—”

“I … I wasted so much time,” Katniss cried, nodding as the tears streamed down her face. One of the nurses pulled up a rocking chair for one of the parents to sit in. Peeta was adamant that Katniss hold her first— just in case.

They opened the tiny incubator and placed Prim in Katniss’s arms, draping a blanket over them while another nurse made a call to Haymitch.

“Oh, baby girl, momma loves you so much. Mommy and Daddy love you so, so much sweet girl.” Katniss hummed through her tears. “You are so special Prim, so, so very special, my sweet, sweet girl. You are so special and so loved and …” Katniss sobbed through her tears, placing kiss after kiss to her little girl’s forehead. Peeta squatted next to Katniss and with one hand, he linked their fingers, and with the other hand, he stroked his little girl’s foot. The floodgates were open— he didn’t think he could cry any harder until he heard Katniss’s beautiful voice singing the lullaby to their daughter.

Deep in the meadow, under the willow

A bed of grass, a soft green pillow

Lay down your head and close your eyes,

And when they open, the sun will rise;

Peeta’s heart plummeted in his chest as he heard Prim’s heart monitor “flat line.” As difficult as it was with the splint on his leg, he inched closer to his wife and daughter as they both cried and overwhelmed Prim with kisses. They showered her with as much love as they could muster, telling her how much they loved her. They told her how special she was and how they would never forget her. As badly as it hurt Peeta to say the words, he finally told his baby girl that it was okay for her to go. The last thing he wanted in this world was for her to suffer.

The nurse reached up to silence the heart monitor when, suddenly, the steady beeping from the machine resumed all on its own.

“What the—” the nurse exclaimed just as Haymitch burst through the door.

“I thought you said code red?” Haymitch growled, seeing the normal heart rhythm on the monitor.

“She—she flatlined, and then— she just— came back,” Portia stuttered in complete bewilderment.

“Little slugger had something worth fighting for, what’d I tell ya?” Haymitch chuckled, looking at the teary-eyed parents.

One Year Later:

“Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you …” Katniss and Peeta sat on either side of their daughter on her third birthday, slightly less than a year after the devastating car accident that nearly took her life.

“That is one happy little girl,” Effie looked up and smiled at her husband. “Thanks to you,” she added in a whisper.

“Yeah, yeah.” Haymitch pretended like he didn’t care, but Effie knew—she always knew; he cared too much.

“What did you wish for, sweet girl?” Katniss asked her daughter after she blew her candles out.

“A baby brudder,” Prim said, her face smeared with chocolate frosting and a mouthful of chocolate cake.

Simultaneously, Katniss and Peeta’s eyes locked and Katniss inadvertently reached up to palm her belly.

“Should we?” Katniss mouthed to her husband who gave her a slight nod.

“You’re going to be a big sister Prim, but not for a few more months,” Peeta informed their daughter, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Yay! I like wishes, Mommy!” Prim squealed, wrapping her tiny arms around her mother’s neck.

#ameliaodair #prompt 29 #Springtime edition 2021 #submission

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the-volume-is-astronomical · 3 years

Text

The Crown, The Sword, and The Gay

The Tower

A/N: mi gente im just trying something out and seeing if people like it :] ive had this done for like months and months on end and i finally decided to share it so em enjoy

First | Previous| Next

words: 2380

summary: Roman’s stomach is making it very clear that this talk wasn’t going to end well... as long as he doesn’t end up in that tower.

pairings: eventual prinxiety, eventual intrulogical, eventual moceit

warnings: some potty language (not much), stress, anxiety, disappearance mention, flashback, crying

(let me know if theres any other)

Roman felt himself waking up, maybe because of the stupidly bright sun hitting his eyes, he didn’t know how that was possible since he remembered closing the red velvet curtains shut tight, so he didn't have this exact issue. So, when he heard some ruffling and things being moved around he wasn’t all that surprised.

¨Rise and shine, you little brat¨ Ruth said in a very tired but demanding voice.

¨Oh dear nurse, allow me five more minutes¨ Roman whined putting a pillow over his eyes so he could block out the rude sun.

¨Oh, flattery will get you nowhere, mister.¨ Roman could hear Ruth moving around the room, preparing breakfast no doubt. Roman took the pillow off his face and sat up, hair a wreck, and his eyes squinting because of the light coming from the window.

¨And he finally rises,¨ Ruth said sarcastically.

¨Yeah, yeah, the dashing prince has awoken.¨ Roman said half asleep. Ruth helped him sit down so he didn’t trip over anything and started serving him breakfast, she wasn’t going to wait for him to finish eating as she was already heading for the big oak doors.

¨Wait!¨ Roman sobered up, Ruth flinched a little at the shout but turned around anyway ¨Can I do anything for you?¨ She asked.

¨ Come eat with me, you for sure haven’t eaten anything today.¨ Ruth went to argue but closed her mouth when she noticed she, in fact, had not eaten.

She sat down in the chair in front of the royal, Roman made a few hand gestures as if to show she was open to take anything, she knew the monarch wouldn’t eat until she had settled for something so, she took a piece of bread and started eating, as did he.

After a few moments of silent eating Ruth spoke up ¨I still don't understand, after all these years you haven’t become a spoiled brat that doesn't care for his servant¨ Roman didn't even look up at her he just said ¨I guess you raised me well.¨ Ruth almost choked on her bread and looked at Roman as if he had gone insane. “Oh come on don't be so humble Ruthie!¨

She still looked at him confused and a little annoyed at the nickname but mostly surprised he would say anything of the sort, ¨Ruth, you are my nurse. You have been with me my entire life, You fed me when I was a baby for god sake! I consider you a mother, even if I have another mother in the throne room right now,” Roman shivered at the thought of having to talk to his parents after the events of the past week but continued anyway “and I sure as hell think of you as the person who raised me.¨

Once he had finished he immediately put a mouth full of food and kept eating as if hadn’t given that speech. Ruth still looked shocked but cleared her throat ¨Well, then I made you a sap!¨ Roman started laughing ¨How will your future spouse ever forgive me?¨ Roman burst out laughing and Ruth gave a small chuckle.

Ruth stood up and went to Roman's closet to gather his outfit for the day, while he finished breakfast. She threw the clothes at him “Hey!¨ Roman made his trademark over dramatic gasp. She sighed “I unfortunately also gave you my dramatics…”

“And I don’t resent you for that!” Roman screamed back with a big smile on his face.

Ruth looked like she had something on her mind. Roman didn’t have to wait much before she said what that was, he never did. ¨Would that make you and my Remy brothers?¨ she said, actively ignoring the prince’s comments. Roman stood up going towards his shoji screen to change behind. ¨Ha! We already consider each other brothers so it wouldn’t be much of a change.¨ Ruth started making his bed “Well this is new information to me.¨ Roman giggled a bit

¨Remy´s supposed to be back by noon, he passed a lot of territories to deliver this message so I sure hope he’s alright¨ Roman has always thought she was a worried mother even to him when he went on long trips.

Roman stepped out from behind the screen and reassured her ¨ He’s fine! He may act reckless but he's very calculating… but expect him a few hours later than what the estimated time of return” Roman slipped away looking for his shoes. ¨Oh and why is that?¨ she asked, hands on her hips, Roman gave a nervous chuckle.

Shouldn't have let that slip.

“Roman…” Ruth said in a warning tone. Remy was going to kill him but he didn’t want to die at his nurse’s hands “Remy’s been... seeing... this person a-and when his message trip aligns with where they live… he spends some time with the person so…” Ruth looked at him as if deciding something, “As Remy’s mother, I thank you for telling me the truth..” Roman was relieved “But, as your mother, I have to say…YOU SNITCH! Snitches get stitches for a reason!” Roman laughed genuinely and Ruth joined.

After their giggle fit, they heard someone knock on the door. Ruth went to answer the door, it was a guard “His and her highness request the prince’s presence,” Ruth thanked the guard and turned around and Roman looked mortified, “Roman, you have to talk to them.” Roman had never heard Ruth speak that soft. Roman only felt dread “Ruth I don't want to go” He was genuinely petrified.

“I understand, but they are very understanding and I believe they wouldn't punish you for simply trusting the wrong person” Roman shook his head “ They’re already so protective. They always had me under knight or guard surveillance but now they might do something so I won’t be able to sneak by” Roman was panicking and Ruth noticed, she walked up to him. And took his hand “Roman they just want the best for you…” Roman took his hand away from her own “No! They are just afraid they aren’t going to have an heir after one of them ran away.” Roman's hands were in his hair and his eyes started to glaze over.

Roman was very much not over his brother's apparent “disappearance”

“I understand Remus vanishing has affected your parents over protectiveness, BUT they have always aimed to protect you but after what happened...can you really blame them for it?” Roman sighed, Ruth forced his hands out of his hair, he took a shaky breath to calm down “No, but getting hurt is part of life! So what if I trusted the wrong person? Everyone does!” He gestured to the sky as if it was the only person listening, he felt so defeated.

“Well I can't change anything so, you should tell your parents that!” She didn’t know what to say to make things better. “I’ll try, let’s just hope they at least try to listen” he left it there and headed out of his bedroom’s oak doors, he never liked disagreeing with Ruth.

Roman walked down the long hallway towards the throne room but, of course, he wasn’t alone because that would be too much to ask apparently. Instead he was being escorted to see his parents by the guard that had informed him his parents required him. He already knew what they were going to talk to him about and he was dreading it.

Why did he have to make such a mistake?

Did the universe want him to not trust anyone after what happened?! If it would make the sinking feeling in his stomach leave then he would happily oblige.

The guard stopped at the throne rooms doors and Roman took a deep breath as the guard gave him side eye glance and opened the doors, “You required my presence?” Roman spoke trying to keep his voice steady and his head high, “Yes, Roman, we would actually like to talk to you about last week's event…?” He phrased it as a question a little too late. Roman’s father, King Leonardo, wasn’t an emotionally driven person and never was truly soft with anything he said, but he cared. The way he was soft spoken with Roman was just having the opposite effect that his father wanted.

Roman’s mother, Queen Victoria, was very comforting and always tried to shield her children from harm's way, but coming from a family of royals, she didn't have an example to follow but she wanted to be there for her child. “Roman, my little lion heart, I need you to keep in mind this is for your safety...ok?” Following everything by the book, always looking and being her best, so she would be a good example even if she wasn't nurturing, all she wished was for Roman to know she loved him and Remus with her whole being, Roman just gave her a tense nod as a response.

Roman’s Father spoke up, “Roman, you're going to be under knight supervision at all times,” That wasn't as bad as Roman expected, he basically already was! Anything but to be stuck in that damn tower “...And you have to stay in the south tower-” ...He should have knocked on wood.

“Father, I did nothing wrong! I shouldn't be punished for this-” Romans mother spoke up, she knew both her son and husband could be hot headed. She wanted to stop anything before it got the chance to begin “Roman this isn't to punish you! We want to protect you-” The Queen sounded like she was pleading with her son.

Roman did not hear her plea or just ignored it “...For how long do I have to stay there?” Roman’s mother spoke up, “Don't worry, you'll be there maximum 2-”

“Indefinitely.”

The King spoke in a cold unforgiving tone, Roman knew he had messed up big time. Victoria turned to her husband “Leo, we agreed he wouldn't be there for more than 2 fortnights, we agreed on that.” The Queen seemed upset but was obviously attempting not to show such emotion.

“Those were the rules we agreed to when he was a child and he would grant being punished” Both of Roman’s parents were staring at each other, showing they weren't going to back down.

Roman spoke, “Understood.” His voice was mostly monotone but tight, Victoria turned to him with an apologetic gaze. Roman shook his head. It was his own fault, his mother shouldn't blame herself for his actions.

“I'll tell Ruth, so we can pack.” Roman turned to leave but his father had more to say. “Before you go, Hugo won't be your assigned knight. One of the new recruits is climbing in status and popularity very quickly and he agreed to-” “babysit” Roman cut in. “-protect you. As long as I recommended him to Queen Marie for her armada”

As if things couldn't get any better, he had to meet this new recruit, he hoped they would at least get along. Roman just nodded and opened the door to leave. At that moment, Roman’s father called the guard that had escorted Roman to get the new recruit as soon as possible, he just left as quickly as he could.

His parents knew that not being around people and not being able to talk were some of the worse things that could happen to him. They decided it was going to be the way to punish him. Though, he never stayed for more than a month, now he understood why.

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

As Roman- basically power walked- back to his room, his brain tortured him with memories of his 7 year old self being forced onto the tower for the first time.

No! Please it was an accident-!

I won't do it again!

I won't- Please!

That was all he said as his father signaled the guards to take him, his mother not being able to look, turned her head away, trying to ignore every motherly instinct in her body to stand up and comfort her child.

The guards dragged him out of the castle- the only home he knew- and shoved him in a carriage, where Ruth was waiting for him. Ruth had always been happy around him but her expression was unreadable -looking back she seemed angry, he just hadn't seen her that way before- but, Roman didn't care. He threw himself onto Ruth and sobbed his tiny heart out, Ruth trying her best to calm him down, he eventually fell asleep. Three hours later, he was woken up by Ruth.

“Were here, principito”

Roman was scared. Ruth saw it in his eyes.

“Come on! You offend me, you really think I would let them take you to a scary place?”

The little royal could only muster a small “no”. Ruth took his hand and walked with him toward a tower. Roman thought it was beautiful, that's the day he figured beautiful things can hurt you.

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

Roman never got used to it. He always dreaded the ride there, all the build up to the feeling of nothingness. When he looked up at the tower, he got the same feeling that he did when he was 7, Roman learned to not look up. He’d always prefer being in the tower when he was a kid because, back then they allowed Ruth to stay behind with him. Now she would only go in the carriage with him and leave.

After they stopped allowing Ruth to stay with him, at least he had Hugo to bother, by asking him for stories of his adventures. He didn't have that anymore.

The only adventure story he had now was a vibrant red book, in the book shelf of the tower, the only fictional book in his whole collection. He will admit, it was a very smart move on his parent’s part. They always monitored what he read, filled his whole book shelf in the tower with Philosophy, Math, and Royalty etiquette. When he begged for weeks on end for an adventure book they granted him one but, they made sure it was the only book that was fictional. They wouldn't give him an adventure book based on real events, No! That would be giving Roman too much hope.

Good move.

#roman sanders #roman angst #sanders sides roman #ts roman #prinxiety #ts prinxiety #future prinxiety #sanders sides #ts princey

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backtomyfirstfandom · 2 years

Text

The Heirloom (a Tintin Fanfiction)

Chapter IV - Through the October Fog

Fourth part (vibrates in writer excitement).

Finally our heroes are arriving in Italy and we're also going to see my hometown (just ninety years ago circa).

Part one, two, three, five.

The journey by train was going surprisingly peacefully.

Haddock was sitting next to the window and in front of Tintin, who was reading a long note from Rosalia, in which she explained what they needed to know about the fob watch. To his left, the girl was caressing Snowy's white fur, looking around with curiosity in her dark eyes and wrapped in the grey coat that they had gotten her right before leaving (together with some clothes).

Despite his attempts at affirming that he wasn't going to follow Tintin in his umpteenth reckless adventure, Haddock had eventually been defeated by the ginger's bright smile and enthusiasm: it was like arguing against a puppy eyed kitty, and it was basically impossible to the seaman to resist Tintin's passion for mystery; Haddock couldn't say no to him even on a daily basis, but when the young man kept begging him to be his partner in crime with such a joyful and childish cheerfulness it was a losing game from the start.

Thus, he was now sitting on a train heading for Italy, on their research for a supernatural pocket watch.

The captain watched Tintin being focused on the note: he read a couple of sentences, sometimes read them again, or stopped to think about what he had just learnt; pretty often, he fixed the vocabulary to make it more comprehensible, or took notes with a red pencil.

Tintin at his full potential, focused on a piece of work, was the most intriguing show to witness.

-Anything interesting, lad? -

It got Tintin a few seconds to connect with reality again: his eyes remained locked on the notebook he held even after he had lifted his head, his hair hitting a flash of light that made it shine of a golden colour. Eventually, he aimed his blue gaze towards Haddock, humming in confusion before he registered what he had just been asked.

-Yes, pretty interesting - Tintin answered, his French accent missing for a moment as the captain had spoken in English and he was struggling to decide which language to use.

-Do you mind sharing information? - Haddock asked and Tintin nodded, his eyes falling back on the notebook.

-Just a moment -

Haddock did not interrupt him as he returned to his studies, quickly writing something with the red pencil, in a handwriting that the seaman had learnt to be good looking but horrible at the same time, due to the effort that it took to read it.

-Okay... - Tintin muttered, reading the notes again.

Haddock leaned over as the ginger placed the small notebook on the table that stood between the two of them.

-There are two siblings: a girl and a boy, the boy is the elder - Tintin started.

-Let me guess: Rosalia is the sister - Haddock suggested, to which the other nodded with his usual energy.

-Precisely. They're born in a family that is known for bringing bad luck, because when something bad is going to happen they're always the first to know, even before the event occurs -

-It really sounds like an old seaman story -

-Focus, captain. The only thing that remains from this family is a fob watch, that has the power to change the unfortunate events that they predict -

-Or so they say -

-Or so they say - Tintin agreed, noticing how Rosalia was listening but actually pretending to be uninterested.

- Where's the rest of the family? - Haddock questioned.

Tintin looked at him with an interrogative expression before asking Rosalia in French. She sat up straight, reaching for the notebook and the pencil.

"La Grande Guerre": "The Great War".

- The war killed them - Tintin referred to the captain.

- Ah, right - Haddock agreed, remembering he had heard that piece of information before.

- That watch is an old heirloom of her family and has been used rarely. The time on the clock can bring into the past or into the future the body of a person, meaning that it can save a life or take one -

Haddock nodded as he listened to the whole story, kind of regretting being on that train, but knowing he wasn't totally useless because, at the very least, his presence was pleasing Tintin.

- Why should someone want such a watch? - he asked.

- Rosalia assumed that Antonio Arena, this man, wants the watch and Rosalia herself for personal reasons - Tintin explained, switching to French again as he asked the girl for confirmation.

Rosalia listened to the ginger and then shook her head, accompanying the motion with a gesture of her hand that the two had started interpreting as "you're right, but you're missing the point". She grabbed the notebook again, writing quickly.

"Méchant": "Bad guy".

Tintin looked at the word, searching for the right way to interpret that.

- I think she means that Arena might want that for more than personal reasons - he eventually said.

- Let me get this straight: we're traveling to Italy in order to get a pocket watch before...Tony, because it would have bad consequences? - Haddock asked.

- Basically, yes. And he's name's Antonio -

- Tony it's easier -

Tintin hummed in response, tapping his index on the wooden table.

- Why didn't she go to the police, though? - the captain questioned, lowering his voice and leaning towards Tintin.

- Arena is her legal tutor: he sort of adopted her once her family died. She doesn't want to go back to him -

- How old is she? -

- Nineteen -

- Tintin, we've literally kidnapped a minor - Haddock murmured, making sure no one could hear.

- For what I know, Arena is a pretty abusive tutor and that adoption wasn't legal. He's literally a criminal - Tintin replied.

Haddock didn't argue further and turned his gaze back to the window, looking at the thick mist out of the train.

- Let's just try to not become criminals as well -

The mist got only worse as they reached their destination, and it wasn't even going to become better as they walked to the house Rosalie had headed to; it was useless and ingenuous to hope for better since that house was in the middle of a field.

The wind was sharp and freezing, so cold that Tintin had hidden Snowy under his coat and was trying to shield his red cheeks with the collar. Haddock, on his part, did not tame the wind, he just found it incredibly annoying.

Their path lead through a humid wood and then through frozen and bare fields, next to a little town called Marcignago. There were only a few houses at sight (all of them were farmhouses), but their destination was the last: on the border of two different fields, there was a watermill, whose front porch had been attacked by the branches of a wisteria.

As Rosalia had told them, the house belonged to her only trustworthy friend, who apparently was in the house since the fireplace was on.

Tintin and Haddock looked at eachother for a moment as they let Rosalia rush towards the house; she vigorously knocked at the door, which opened to reveal a tall man with dark hair and grey eyes.

The two exchanged a hug (together with some words by the man), until Rosalia turned to point at Tintin and Haddock, who were keeping themselves at a security distance in case they might have needed to go on the run.

- Vi ringrazio di cuore - the man told them, once he had approached them.

Tintin, not understanding a thing, put on a polite smile and exchanged the handshake that was offered.

- Do you speak French? - he asked.

- Of course, of course - the man answered with a bright smile.

Haddock seemed reluctant to the handshake, giving the man a rough look.

- Thank you so much for taking her back. How did you find her? - the man asked.

- She's the one who found us - Tintin replied, exchanging the second handshake.

- I'm Fabrizio Manfredi, by the way -

- Tintin. And he's my dear friend Archibald Haddock -

- How much do you plan to stay? - Fabrizio asked them, letting Tintin go.

- We're actually here because of the fob watch - the ginger admitted.

The bright smile on Fabrizio's face faded immediately as his eyes went from the reporter to the seaman.

- Come inside - the man demanded.

Tintin looked at Haddock as to search for his support, unconsciously moving closer. The captain wrapped an arm (the one wherewith he wasn't holding his luggage) around Tintin's back, and the two followed Fabrizio to the house.

Rosalia is called a minor by Haddock because in the 1930 the age of maturity was 21 (in Italy this went on until the 1975).

The watermill described in the last part (together with the farmhouses) really exists and it's located near Marcignago. The house has almost totally collapsed, but the mill is still intact. It's called "Molino Vecchio".

#tintin #haddotin #tintin fanfiction #captain haddock

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orionwhispers · 4 years

Text

Tear In My Heart // Alfie Solomons

(A/N - hehe im back. im working on a bucky oneshot and a tommy series but both of them are super long and i wanted to take a little breather. this was supposed to be a drabble but you know me... ive got a few more ideas for shorter imagines like this with tommy and alf, requests are open! hope you enjoy. pls reblog and comment. love u see u soon xoxxo - also this is like the smuttiest thing ive written even though its not explicit but wow who am i)

warnings: violence, mention of fights and blood, protective alfie, heavily implied smut, lots of terrible language.

You knew something was wrong when Ollie practically crashed through the door. He took off part of the frame and made the hinges tear from the wood, nails and screws clattering onto the ground. The afternoon had been wonderful, perhaps too wonderful, and as always, real life found a way to shatter your rose tinted glasses.

It was starting to fall into autumn, the air chilly but comfortable, the streets slick with rain and the leaves turning into a sweet, buttery caramel all around you. The house was silent save for the birds singing in the trees and the rattling whip of the wind against your windows. The quiet was a perk of having house out in the country, far away from anything and anyone. Just the way he liked it.

Because to him, all he needed was his girl.

Well, and his dog.

The sun had barely risen when you got up - much to your husbands protests. You felt him stirring from beside you, a solid wall of warmth as he snaked his arms around your waist and pressed sleepy, half drunk kisses onto your spine. You laughed tiredly as his hands curled over everything they could reach, long calloused fingers roaming against your bare skin. He grumbled as you swung your legs from under the duvet and onto the floor, throwing on his white cotton shirt and letting it fall to your knees, trying to ignore the threats he was mumbling about what he was going to do to your boss for making you come in so early.

He made one last feeble attempt to grab you, exhaustion clouding his brain so he could do no more than swipe at the top of your thigh, making you laugh at his wandering hands.

“Stay.” He said, voice raspy and muffled by his pillow.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“Alf.” You sighed playfully, grabbing your strawberry slip dress and beaded heels and fur coat, darting into the bathroom to wash up and change. Through the noise of the running water you could hear the bed springs creak as he shifted, the entire frame groaning almost as much as him. Cyril watched you with his big chestnut eyes from the doorway as you fluffed up your hair and patted on coffee coloured lipstick, pinching the apples of your cheeks for a little flush.

You rummaged through your handbag as you made your way to the bedroom door, lost in your thoughts until you heard him speak, all low and gravelly and sending shivers up your spine.

“Oi. C’mere you.”

You rolled your eyes but walked into his outstretched arms, his body completely slumped and covered in thick duvets and pillows, just his tattooed skin and coarse, tousled hair poking out from underneath. He pulled you close into him, smelling like green apples and rum and sex and sea salt, like home. He mumbled something that you couldn’t quite make out, the sun starting to shine through the cracks in the curtains and as you started to get up he tugged you in tighter, placing messy, sloppy kisses down your throat and onto your collarbones.

You smacked his shoulder, grabbing his jaw and holding it still, placing a kiss on his lips, feeling him smile against your mouth.

“Bye, my love.”

“Hmph.”

You made it halfway down the hall before you heard: “Fred is driving you. Don’t even bloody think about walking alone at this time.” Followed by grunts and groans and finally deep, throaty snores.

———————————————————-

You accompanied your boss to a few meetings, taking notes and helping him check stock. After a few hours filled with cinnamon lattes and finger cramps and ink stains, he took you aside at the office and gave you the rest of the day off. You were a little suspicious, and had a feeling his good deed might have had something to do with your slightly intimidating husband, but you accepted it nonetheless and headed to Camden after lunch.

The air was brisk and you pulled your scarf tighter around your throat, dodging puddles and fat droplets of rain as they dropped from the trees. You stopped off at a little cafe on your side of town, buying turkey sandwiches, a garden salad and a platter of seasonal fruit, ignoring the fried sugar donuts and sausage rolls and thick, crispy cuts of bacon. A routine check up to the doctor had lead to Alfie being told that perhaps a healthier lifestyle would benefit some of his ailments, so despite his grumbling and childish ways you were doing your best to make sure he was eating his five a day - no matter how much he protested.

But at the last second you grabbed a cherry jam donut. His favourite.

The rain had become torrential by the time you left, the clouds morphing into a block of ashen, sooty grey, teetering on black. Once upon a time the impending storm would have made you feel nervous, the rattling trees and flashes of lightning had been the reason for many sleepless nights when you were a child, but now you looked forward to it.

Because now it meant something different. You, Alfie and Cyril curled up in bed, the fire roaring and flickering a brilliant orange gold. Your husbands arms tight around you, squeezing softly every time there was a clap of thunder, his kisses warm and protective across your throat, knowing that he’d never let anything hurt you. Drinking tea spiked with rum and playing cards, listening to the rain against the windows, feeling the white burst of lighting every time it struck the sky. Falling asleep next to each other, Alfie always waiting for you to doze off first, unable to sleep unless he knew you were alright.

You had once hated storms, and now you wished for them.

Your umbrella was totally battered by the time you got to the bakery. The bottom of your dress was damp from puddles and your shoes were on their last legs, the satin ruined and black with mud, but you didn’t care, walking through the side entrance with a smile bigger than the moon. A few of the old boys saw you instantly, straightening up and grinning at you, welcoming you with whisky soaked aprons and calloused hands. Back when you and Alfie started dating he had all but forbidden his staff from looking, talking, or even thinking about you, but over the years you had formed a close relationship with his workers - something about your warmth and light easing up the darkness. At first Alfie huffed and puffed about it a little, but he couldn’t exactly blame his men for loving you - he was a perfect example of how you brought a strong man to his knees after all.

“Is he upstairs?” You asked George, one of the distillers. As soon as he nodded you left, your heels clicking against the cool basement flooring. You didn’t bother knocking as you approached the big, intimidating door to his office, instead just grabbing the brass lion head knob and twisting it, hearing the hinges whine in protest.

“What the fuck?” His voice was as deep and rumbling as a low tide, his tone so dark and sharp that it might have scared you, if you didn’t know him as the man who fed the ducks fresh bread at the park and cuddled Cyril when the vets had to give him an injection. “How many fucking times do I have to ask you lot to fucking knock. I mean it’s a - ”

He stopped short when he saw you, eyes going wide and lips twitching upwards just a little. He slipped into business mode whenever he sat at the leather chair behind his desk, but you always managed to chip away at his foundation.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too.” You laughed, walking around his desk to see him, his legs naturally opening to let you stand in between them, his eyes following every curve and line of your face, settling on the natural rosebud flush of your lips.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He mused, ring clad fingers darting around your waist and pulling you in. He toyed with the buttons on your dress and the jewellery around your neck, his fingers rough and large and as hot as a fire. His day had been shitty so far, but seeing the sparkle in your eyes and the loose curl of your hair had made everything much, much better.

“Hmm.” You said, leaning into his touch, batting away his hand as it slipped somewhere a little too low. “Marcus gave me the afternoon of so I thought I would come and surprise you.”

He blinked up at you, all wistful and love drunk and making your knees turn into blackcurrant jelly. “Did you now?”

“Yep.” You smiled, brushing your nose against his before pulling back and teasingly shaking the paper bag of baked goods in your hand. “And I bought gifts.”

“Yeah. Yeah. In a minute.” He barely registered them, instead dragging you into him, pressing kisses to your lips and letting you wash away any thoughts from his brain, not stopping until he was totally, completely drowning in you.

——————————————————-

That was how you ended up cross legged on the sofa, devouring your new novel and sipping on the rose and oolong tea Alfie kept in the cupboard for when you visited the factory. You could hear the rain pattering down the windows around you, mixed with the scratch of Alfie’s fountain pen and the sound of him rifling through his papers. It was fun to watch him as well as listen to him, the way his eyebrows raised when he read something he didn’t like, the twitch of his nose and the way that he ran his fingers through the coarse hair of his beard, moulding it to a peak at the bottom of his chin.

He watched you as well. When you got so into your book that your brows furrowed and your nose wrinkled. The way your hair was loose and wild, your stockings a soft pink under the stormy sky, your eyes wide and frantic, desperate to read as much as you could. He smiled at the way your leg bounced, how you tried to pick the stems from your strawberries with one hand but then accidentally squished them, the juice running down your wrist. He especially liked the way you were using his winter coat as a blanket, drowning in the fabric like a child, the collar snug around your chin.

Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

You heard Ollie before you saw him, the crash of his laced black boots thundering up the stairs, the way that he collided with the door rather than opening it first. You and Alfie stood up at the same time, his eyes immediately darting to you, gesturing for you to get behind him.

“Eric’s here.” Was all the boy said, and you watched the colour drain from Alfie’s face.

“Eric?” You said, “Eric Martin?”

Your question lingered in the air as the two men walked around one another, gesturing wildly and talking under their breath; Alfie completely frantic and flustered. You had only heard of Alfie’s new business partner in passing, the two of them had spent the better part of a year talking through agreements and shipments and trying to manoeuvre a deal where the two of them could co exist happily - Alfie’s rum and Eric’s stolen goods sharing a boat so that the city checks would be easier. Alfie had never been particularly quite when it came to business. He liked to include you and get your opinion on things, he trusted you most of all anyway, but he had been secretive when it came to Eric.

You had heard through Ollie and rumours at the club and whispers in the factory that this “Eric” was a man not to be trifled with. Apparently he was unpredictable and violent, and he belonged to one of the major crime gangs in Cambridge. None of this scared you though, many people thought the exact same of the man you shared your bed with, and you knew a side of him that nobody else saw. The gossip was barbed and cruel though. They said he was conniving and underhanded, and that his last two wives had been admitted to hospital with broken and fractured bones.

So Alfie tried cutting him out as much as he could, never wanting to say his name or talk about him in the safety of his home, not with you around. Your home was his solace, and he wouldn’t taint his life with you in blood red - you were too important. You never thought much of it, but watching his reaction, his sudden overprotectiveness and stern frown and rattled demeanour, made you just a little bit frightened.

“What the fuck does he want?” Alfie snapped, pulling your coat over your shoulders frantically and starting to button it up, then helping you tug on your boots and lace them.

“He’s pissed about the Brighton shipment, he says his liquor didn’t get there on time.”

“Stupid fucking...” Alfie’s voice trailed off like smoke, something downstairs on the factory floor clattering loudly followed by distinct, angry shouts. “We told him it was too risky with the police there, he should have fucking listened. We were due a meeting next week, tell him to fuck off and come back then.”

“He won’t listen.”

“Make him.”

“I...” He started, but Alfie cut him off again, standing next to you and taking your face in his large, calloused hands.

“Right, pet. Stay here for a little bit, and when it clears up, Ollie will take you out the back, alright?”

“Alfie...” You started to protest, before exhaling and sighing as he turned to his protégée.

“You got that, Ol? Nothing is to happen to her.”

You were getting a little hot with being ordered around, but the visible anxiety swimming across their faces like the midnight sea was enough for you to close your mouth. Instead of agreeing with his boss, Ollie shook his head, sucking on his lower lip as he tried to think of a way to convey the sincerity of the situation.

“He’s really angry, Alfie. You need to go down, now. Before he decides to come up.”

“Yeah, alright.”

Your fingers clenched, and you darted out to tug on the edge of his sleeve before he left.“Alfie. Please be careful.”

There was a smog of anxiety in your stomach and warning signs ringing like alarms in your mind as he pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his lips brushing your hairline. You chewed on the edge of your lip as he left, and you wondered how your blissful afternoon had turned into this: your body shaking with nerves as your husband descended down the stairs and into the belly of the beast.

Ollie reached out and touched your shoulder, trying to help you feel calm but his face was the colour of tepid dishwater, paling by the second.

“He’ll be fine.”

You crossed all of your fingers and toes.

———————————————————————

About twenty minutes passed, and the shouting had gone from ear piercingly loud to a low hum, which you found oddly comforting despite everything. You watched as Ollie fiddled with his pocket watch, the two of you waiting until it was safe to head downstairs.After a moment you heard the sound of the giant metal door opening, the one right at the front where the workers came in and the bakery goods were delivered, a clear indication from Alfie that Eric was leaving.

Ollie leapt up and smiled faintly at you, edging you towards the door as you swung your handbag across your chest. You scoffed a little as you walked, turning to face him.

“If Eric is gone, why can’t I stay?”

Ollie merely rolled his eyes, his hand migrating to your lower back as he all but pushed you forward. You might have been able to get away with ignoring Alfie’s orders, but he certainly wouldn’t. “You know Alfie won’t want you here after that. There’s no use fighting him about it, he’ll want you back at home.”

You sighed but conceded, allowing yourself to be guided down the staircase. At least at home you could distract yourself and have Cyril with you, his big treacle eyes were the perfect remedy to a bad day.

You were right beside the back door and ready to leave when you heard a voice cracking like thunder from behind you, something as sharp as a knife and as loud as a church bell. You both froze instantly, every nerve in your body feathering, your heart aching to know that Alfie was alright.

“You little fucking liar.” Cut around the room like barbed wire. “How long were you planning on hiding this shipment from me?” There was another crash, and you could hear liquid trickling and dribbling into a puddle, followed by the sweet, sour smell of alcohol.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re on about mate.” It was Alfie speaking now, his voice lowered to a dangerous octave, and you could picture the lightning like anger on his face. “Calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm down? You’ve been sending things off without my knowledge!”

“I said. Fucking calm down.” The sound of a hand slamming down on wood, as fierce as a slap on the face. “You don’t want to make an enemy of me.”

There was another scuffle: rapid footsteps on the floor, the crack of knuckles and the smell of ash. A couple of the boys darted in from the other room, their shirts untucked and hands turning red. You watched them curiously, stepping forward on unsteady heels to try and pinpoint the commotion. You felt Ollie's hand reach for you but you leapt out of his grasp, at the same time a body flew from the next room and landed in a heap next to barrels of aged rum and whisky, the wood heaving from the strain.

You glanced at the man on the floor, his body oddly contorted, his bald head glistening with sweat and his body reeking of putrid alcohol and cigarettes. This was obviously Eric. Your eyes widened in disgust at the drunk, violent man taking swings at whoever he could, wanting nothing more than to get away from him. You saw Alfie emerge from the shadows, his gaze flitting straight to you, his hands swollen and his face flushed with visible anger at the man sprawled on the ground.

Before you could retreat, Eric’s wide, black eyes landed on you, practically bulging out of his head with adrenaline and anger and excitement. “ You know, Alfie.” He asked through bubbles of saliva, scrambling to his feet as best he could, lunging for you. You saw Alfie and a few of his best men move forward, hands ready like cocked guns to strike if they needed to. Eric ignored them, wanting to pack as many fatal blows in whilst he had the chance. “Everybody at the club talks about your little whore of a wife, Solomon’s.”

The room fell deadly silent. His words didn’t affect you at all, but you felt a pool of dread settle in your gut and you stepped backwards, warning him with your eyes. He was at the back of the room, but you could still feel the anger vibrating from your husband, and you heard him smack his lips as he tried to calm himself down.

Eric ignored your alarmed glare, spitting onto the concrete and looking you up and down with pure disgust and shameless lust. “You know that people only do business with you to get to her?”

“Don’t. You. Fuck - ” Alfie’s boots thundered like a stampede, his voice as dark and raspy as midnight, his words sharpened like butchers knives.

“Maybe I’ll have a go at her. Maybe it’ll teach you a little respect. If I have a go at that smug little whore and slap her around a little and....”

He didn’t finish his sentence, Alfie’s cane smashing against the side of Eric’s head with enough momentum to send his teeth flying, small milky white canines lying a few feet in front of you in a pool of sticky blood. He made some kind of noise from on the floor, his hands coming up to protect what was left of his face, his polished shoes desperately trying to grip onto something to help him up. There was a second hit. And then a third. Each accompanied by ear splitting cries, and the sound of flesh against stone.

“Don’t you ever, ever, speak about my wife like that again.” You could just about make out Alfie from the darkness, his silhouette mighty and terrifying, leaning over the shattered body on the floor, filled with a hatred that seemed to overpower him.

“I - ” Eric tried to speak but only blood pooled from his mouth, his body weakened and damaged from the attack. He tried to cover himself with his hands but failed, another ear piercing crack echoing around the room.

You lunged forward, wanting to stop your husband before he went too far. “Alfie! Stop! You’re going to kill him!”

He blinked up at you, his pupils swallowed by black. His gaze lowered from you onto the wailing man on the ground, his words playing on a loop in his brain, digging their nails in every time the record restarted.

He had said those evil things about you.

He glanced at Ollie, finally opening his mouth to speak. “Take her home.”

You struggled in Ollie’s grip, desperate to see your husband and knock some sense into him. Your heart hung heavy in your chest, equal parts terrified that he would either end up hurt or in a more dangerous situation than the one he was already in. You fought hard but Ollie’s hold was tighter, his fingers squeezing you tightly. He tried to be kind but forceful as he pulled you out into the alley, your heard turned back to face your husband, watching as him and the shadow on the floor faded to a dull, awful, obsidian.

—————————————-

You were certain you were going to make holes in the wood. You had been pacing back and forth the living room floor for almost an hour, and Cyril had abandoned his mission of trying to cheer you up, and instead watched you protectively and cautiously from his wicker basket beside the sofa.

You had chewed your sunshine yellow nails down to the wick, and your heart hadn’t stop thumping since you had left the warehouse. Ollie had left you to your thoughts, keeping watch outside to make sure nothing harmed you, and also that you didn’t harm somebody else.

Dealing with hysterical women wasn’t really his forte.

There had been no word from Alfie since you had left, and so you watched the teal wall phone endlessly, hoping that it would ring and you would know he was alright. You were greeted with nothing but ice cold silence, and so you resumed your pacing, biting down on the skin of your thumb until you could taste blood.

Right before you were about to lose all control and demand Ollie take you to see him, you heard the crunch of the gravel outside, and saw lemon headlights flash against the wall. Cyril’s head lifted quickly, and his tail began to thump, but your feet turned to concerted and you were unable to do anything other than wait.

You were as still as a spectre as you stood facing the door, your body prickling with anxiety and adrenaline. A car - you assumed Ollie’s - coughed and spluttered over the rocks and into the road, leaving you alone with Alfie. You heard the key in the lock, practically felt the metal ridges running over your spine as he pulled and twisted and finally came inside, the sky a gloomy, smoky grey, rain falling so harshly it was almost hail.

He was shaped so strongly, his figure so barbed and brawny and beautiful. You felt totally mortal beside a man like him, and he looked even more so like a God when you saw him under the icy white lamp light in the hall.

He was covered in blood. Soaked in it, really. It was matted in his hair and in ugly brown splotches across his once pristine shirt and under his fingernails and smeared across his boots in a shade of red you had never seen before. It was obvious he had tried to clean himself up judging from the uneven patches and water marks, but he had given up, deciding to risk everything and drive through the streets like an abattoir worker, just so he could see you as quickly as he could.

You let out some kind of noise and stepped forward, he caught you effortlessly, the way that he always would.

“Alfie.” You said, wide eyed and innocent and good, and he felt like a sinner holding something so angelic in his arms.

“I’m alright. I’m alright.”

There was blood in his beard, and a plum sided bruise turning nightshade on his upper arm. “Oh God, Alf.”

He shook his head, pulling you in and smelling the orange and cinnamon of your shampoo and the vanilla perfume on your neck and felt the softness of your hair and the curves of your body. The day had been bad. It had started so wonderfully and ended up shattered and splintered into something so awful and malevolent, and now there was nothing he wanted except you, his home.

“We need to - ” You started, but he frowned, his arms engulfing you and tugging you in. He pressed his lips to whatever flesh he could find, open mouthed and desperate, sucking and biting and aching for you.

“No. No.” He whispered into your neck, his voice so small and desperate that your heart throbbed. “I need you, my love.”

You knew what he wanted. How we got when he was like this. Touch starved. Greedy. Insatiable. How he wanted nothing else but the feel of you under him, the weight of your ribs and the feel of your body and love consuming him until nothing was left. Fuck his back and his cane, he needed to claim you and mark you and show you just how badly he needed you. He needed to find religion at the alter of your pliant, yearning body. Show you how much he loved you on the cold kitchen tiles with the rain casting grey shadows and his lips biting your own as the thunder clapped above.

————————-

The tap was still leaking.

Alfie had promised to fix it weeks ago and yet it still dribbled lukewarm water continuously, you didn’t mind for once though, the soft noise it made as it bounced into the water was somewhat calming.

His legs around you were as thick as tree trunks and covered in curly, coarse hair. His arms were tight around you, and you played with the jewels on his fingers as you both relaxed, letting the hot steam cover you both. You were cradled in front of him despite your instance that his back would hurt and it would cause more harm than good. He simply got in the water and dragged you on top of him, letting the pink bath salts do their job.

You hadn’t really spoken since you’d made love like teenagers on the kitchen floor. Afterwards, he tugged you on top of him and held you close, the two of you skin to skin, letting your pulses synch and breathing calm all whilst he stayed warm and throbbing inside of you. Needing to be joined with you for as long as he could.

Then you ran a bath and filled it with all of the expensive lotions and potions you had stockpiled. Cherry and rose and sweet mint and chocolate and lime, things that might have clashed but would easily cover the smell of sweat and sex and thick, coppery blood. The two of you sat in the water, not speaking but filled with love, despite all of the unspoken tension in the air.

You felt him shift behind you. His huge body sent water and bubbles lapping wildly over the tub edge, coating the floor in marshmallow pink. You giggled softly, and the sweet, angelic noise gave Alfie the final push to tell you everything.

“I know what you want to ask me.”

“Hmm?” You murmured, letting round, iridescent bubbles fall through the cracks in your fingers, knowing exactly what he was about to say but feigning innocence anyway.

“You want to know if I killed him.”

You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t need to, he continued anyway.

“I did.”

The bathroom fell silent again and Alfie could feel you stiffen under him. You knew from the moment he swung his cane across Eric’s head that he would be buried six feet by the end of the day, but it still hit you like a punch to the windpipe to hear the words aloud.

“Does that bother you?” He asked after a moment, the words thick and raspy, as though they had been stuck in his throat like congealed honey.

“I’m not sure.” You said finally.

It was the truth. You weren’t sure.

You knew he had killed people before. You knew what the war had made him do, what it had turned him into. You weren’t stupid, either. You knew that he often came home with dirt under his nails and blood splattered on his boots and that glazed look in his eyes that made your stomach tie itself in knots. You knew because you had been there through it all, cleaning him up and disinfecting his wounds, talking him down when the memories of gunshots and trenches got too loud, listening to him tell you all of the secrets that lingered in his mind like flies around a carcass.

But if you were being honest, you didn’t care that he had killed. You never judged Alfie or his choices, you understood the way his brain worked and how he made his decisions. Most of the men had been awful. Abusers and violent thieves and con men with dirty intentions. This was the business you had signed up for when you fell for the six foot man with questionable morals but a heart of solid gold. There was no way you were turning your back on him now.

It wasn’t murder that scared you, it was the possible repercussions that led you to sleepless nights and bloody, bitten lips. You were terrified that one day everything would catch up to him, and it would be your husband that ended up in a coffin. He was so powerful and dangerous and magnificent, but he wasn’t invincible.

You were about to say as much but he continued, the water sloshing around the two of you. “Don’t let it bother you. I’d do it again. Kill a fucking million men if I had to. If anyone talks about you like that - if they even think it. They’re gone. Bloody scum. The lot of ‘em.”

You sighed, shifting up and grabbing his hand under the water. You rubbed circles across his palm, conveying your love through actions. “I don’t want to be the reason you have blood on your hands.”

“I’m a big lad right, I can make my own decisions.”

“I know you are Alf, but you know how I worry.”

“Listen to me, right.” He muttered, the candles flickering clementine, his fingertips pressing gently onto the bare flesh of your hip. He cleared his throat, feeling the rise and fall of your chest against his belly. “After the war I had nothing - and then I met you and fuck me you changed everything.”

He paused, reminiscing internally about how you met and your early dates, thinking of toffee kisses and giddy, pure love and fucking in back alleys and winter walks and finally feeling something after the war had shot everything right out of him. “And you are my wife. I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

You tugged on his big toe, making him wince and playfully hit you, the air lightened just a little bit, but enough so that the two of you could breathe. “I don’t care that you killed them, Alf. I never have. But God, if something were to happen to you! What if the police start looking? What if...”

A million fucked up scenarios of your beloved in silver cuffs and a bullet in his head made you feel completely nauseous, but he held you tight, grounding you back to reality.

“I’m not going anywhere. And for the cops - they should be thanking me. Got rid of a lot of nasty criminals without them getting their hands dirty.” He pressed kisses to the back of your neck, the tip of your spine, the crook of your ear. “I promise you, my love, everything will be alright.”

The future was uncertain, but you knew that when you married him. Some days were just bad.

Clouded in darkness and tinged with blood and rust. Your relationship had always been a little unconventional, a little rough around the edges and at times, like a small wooden boat on a rough sea. But despite everything your love had been unwavering, as solid as a steel, the kind of dreamy infatuation that people longed for. For every bad day and every fight and every knot that wound itself in your belly - there was also so much good. Sleepy kisses and pillow talk and sharing the parts of yourself that no one else saw. A language without words, the safety of his arms, the home in your hips, domestic mornings and a love that could last through anything.And in that moment, with the storm starting to ease and the sky starting to lighten and his arms around you and Cyril starting to whine for his dinner downstairs...

It was enough.

Because you weren’t just the girl he would kill for. You were the girl he would live for.

#alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons headcanon #alfie solomons oneshot #peaky blinders oneshot #peaky blinders imagine #alfie solomons x reader #writing #alfie solomons hc

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eretzyisrael · 3 years

Text

Lama Al-Manar, 36, doesn't remember what she put into the small bag she was carrying when she stepped into a Red Crescent ambulance, other than medical documents. She doesn't remember the last words her husband, who was riding with her, said to her before they separated at the Erez crossing. She doesn't know whether he followed them with his gaze when she walked toward the crossing and passed from the Gaza Strip to Israel, where a Magen David Adom ambulance was waiting for her.

From the moment she left Shifa Hospital that afternoon, until she arrived at Sheba Medical Center at Tel Hashomer some five hours later, Lima's eyes never left the incubator that was holding her son, Abdullah, 2.5 months old, whose tiny body was receiving oxygen.

She also wouldn't have remembered what day it was if they hadn't explained how lucky she had been. It was Monday, May 10, 2021, the day on which Operation Guardian of the Walls against Hamas infrastructure in Gaza began. The ambulance that brought her and her son to Israel was the last allowed through Erez crossing before it was closed for 13 days.

Three children are waiting for her at home. Two years ago, she gave birth to a stillborn child, and when she became pregnant for the fifth time, she was eager for the new baby to bring joy back to the home. But Abdullah was born two months prematurely with a complicated heart defect and Lamaand her husband realized they would need to fight for his life.

"I was afraid. His condition wasn't good," Lama says. "He lost weight, and his breathing and other parameters slowed. I prayed to God to heal him. To fight for his little life. A doctor at Shifa Hospital recommended that we send him to Israel for treatment. My husband reached out to the Shevet Achim organization to help us get him there."

Thursday afternoon, the 11th day of the Gaza campaign. The radio reports a rocket alert in Ashkelon, and then a direct hit on a residential building. We arrive at the parking structure attached to the labor ward at Sheba Medical Center, which is next to the Edmond and Lily Safra Children's Hospital. The children's ICU was transferred here on the fifth day of the fighting for fear of rocket hits.

We go down one floor. After walking through the gray halls lined with oxygen tanks at the ready, we encounter a colorful sign decorated with a drawing of a sun and a kite: "Protected Children's ICU." Reality stays outside. In the parking structure, which was filled with cars the previous week, there are 40 small beds. Each one takes up two parking places, and holds a small baby who is hooked up to medical equipment. Nearby is a treatment station, a computer, and a lounge chair for adults.

The beds are separated by flowered curtains that were hung on the metal pipes that line the parking garage's ceiling. No one closes the curtains. There are also hanging screens that are attached to monitors that fill the space with dim beeping.

In the center of the improvised unit are a dialysis cart and another cart that holds equipment for chest drainage. Sometimes, a baby's cry can be heard. It is weak, and starts and stops quickly.

Over bed No. 26 a sign reads: "Abdullah Al-Manar. Date of birth: Feb. 26, 2021. Weight: 1.6 kg (3.52 pounds)." Lamasits on the chair and watches Shani, the nurse, take off Abdullah's cloth diaper, exposing a large incision that runs from his chest to his belly. Shani changes the dressing, rubs cream on it, puts his medicine into the IV bag attached to his small arm, and covers him gently.

In the next bed lies three-month-old Rana, who is recovering from her third open heart surgery, which she underwent two days earlier. On the left is Yazen, a month old, who had a catheterization.

Dr. Evyatar Hubara, 43, a senior doctor on the unit, moves from bed to bed. He slept three hours the night before due to the number of cases.

"The three children from Gaza suffer from complicated heart defects," Hubara explains. "They came to us in serious condition, among other reasons because it took time from when the problem was diagnosed in Gaza until their transfer to us could be coordinated, all the permits received, and that's without changing ambulances at Erez and the bumpy journey. Right now, all three are in an acute stage. We still haven't gotten to the rehabilitation state, which will begin here and continue in Gaza," he says.

Hubara stops by Abdullah's bed and looks at him warmly. "Abdullah was born prematurely and was incorrectly diagnosed in Gaza. The doctors … performed the wrong operation on him when he was two months old. A week after the operation, he began to decline, and a week after that he reached us. In the first few hours we needed to stabilize him and keep his blood pressure steady with medication.

"We started to look into the problem. We did an MRI and other tests. Before every stage, we explained to his mother what we were going to do. She trusted us from the beginning. After we stabilized him, we found that the true defect he was suffering from was an aortic valve stenosis. It turned out that in Gaza they had tried to close the ductus, but closed one of the main arteries by mistake.

"In the insane Israeli reality, we had to protect ourselves against rockets from Gaza along with the babies who come from here," he says.

"I remember one siren that caught me on the unit, before we moved to the parking structure. All the mothers, Jewish and Arab, just grabbed their babies – the ones that weren't hooked up to machines – and ran to a safe space. I shouted, 'We have time, 90 seconds, go slowly so you won't fall with the kids.' Everyone gathered around in the safe space. Staff members and patients, Jews and Arabs together. The shocking sight of the mothers who ran there with their babies doesn't leave me," Hubara recalls. Not all the mothers were able to take their babies to a safe space. Abdullah, Rana, and Yazen, as well as another 12 Israeli babies, are on respiratory equipment, and they were unprotected during the first rocket alerts. This is why the hospital administration decided to move the entire department from the sixth floor to the underground parking garage. Here, the sirens can't even be heard.

We go with Lama, Raida, and Samira into the staff room, located at the exit. The room has a big refrigerator full of popsicles donated to the children and the staff who care for them. Every few minutes, a parent or a staff member comes in and takes one.

About a year ago, when the COVID pandemic was still raging in Israel, a COVID unit opened in this same parking structure to ease the mass of patients that was overwhelming the hospitals. That event seems like ancient history, and the only thing that remains of it are the letters of thanks stuck to the door. It seems as if this is the last place in the country where people are careful to wear masks, and wear them properly.

The three Gaza women are embarrassed. They aren't used to being interviewed. All three are wearing abayas, long dresses that include head coverings, as well as hijabs and surgical masks. Since they arrived in Israel, they have been sleeping here, on the unit, in the recliner chairs next to their children's beds. They are also given meals. Once every few days, they allow themselves to go upstairs and shower. None of them speaks any language other than Arabic, with the exception of a few words of Hebrew or English. Moshe Ravid, 26, a nursing student from Jaffa and a volunteer with the Shevet Achim organization, translates.

Raida (Umm Ahmad), 48, is from Khan Younis. She is Rana's grandmother, a housewife and mother of six.

"My daughter-in-law, Rana's mother, came to Israel with her in February, two weeks after she was born," she says. "After two weeks, she was tired and not feeling well. Because she has a four-year-old at home, she called me and asked me to switch with her. She went back to Gaza, and since then, I've been here. Three months already. This is my first time in Israel."

Q: Were you afraid?

"No, why should I be afraid? My husband worked in Bat Yam for 20 years. Every day, he went from Gaza to Bat Yam, until the disengagement in 2005. After that, he found work in Gaza. He told me that there are good people in Israel, that everyone here is all right."

Abdullah's mother Lama, 36, is wearing a brown abaya accessorized with a shining silver star. Her smartphone has a pink cover. She works in a laboratory, and her husband is a producer for Palestinian television in Gaza. She has two other sons, 11 and six, at home, as well as a three-and-a-half-year-old daughter.

"My mother had cancer. She went to Israel to be treated, and recovered," Lama says. "She told me that everything is good here. When Abdullah's condition got worse, the doctor recommended that we come to Israel. My husband reached out to Shevet Achim. Now he and my mother are watching the three other kids at home."

Q: What do you tell your families about what is happening here?

Lama: "They're afraid for us, and we're afraid for them. When they call to hear how we are, I answer, 'Al Hamdullah,' so they won't be scared and worry, and when I call to ask how they are, they say the same thing. We talk about the boy, how he ate, how much he ate, how much he slept. "I tell them that the doctors here are good, that they treat us well, answer all our questions. I tell them that the food is excellent, that the women have nice clothes, about their hairstyles. I like the fashion in Israel, and the grilled chicken breast and salad they serve at the hospital."

Raida: "The medical staff thinks only about the children – whether their condition has improved, what they ate, how they slept. We sit next to their beds, don't know how they'll be from one moment to the next, whether they'll get better at all."

Q: Do they send you pictures of the strikes on Gaza?

"They send me pictures of the special Ramadan sweets," Raida answers, with a smile.

Samira, 62, is the grandmother of Yazen, who is only a month old. "I have nine grown children, and my son has four children other than Yazen. Their mother needs to take care of them, so they asked me to accompany the child. At home, when we talk about Israel, we only talk about the medical treatment we want to get here."

Moshe, the translator, tells them in Arabic not to be frightened, that they can speak freely. They all answer at once: "We aren't afraid, we're speaking honestly. Everyone wants peace. We want it to be all right."

Samira: "Inshallah, things will calm down. We aren't dealing with politics."

Q: What did you do when people in Gaza fired rockets toward this area?

Raida: "What everyone else did. The nurses took us to a safe place. The babies stayed on the unit, hooked up to respirators. I was worried about them, that they were alone, but everyone calmed us down, said that it would all be fine."

Lama: "We tried to talk to the other people in the safe area, without understanding one another. Everyone wants to know how the other's child is doing. He's sorry about my son, and I'm sorry about his."

Q: Did your families leave their homes because of the airstrikes?

Raida: "No. Everyone is in his own home."

Q: Are any of your family members involved in the fighting?

All three shake their heads, no. "Not everyone in Gaza enlists in the army," Raida says. "My husband worked in Israel. Half of Gaza used to work in Israel. You must have seen the workers who would come from Gaza."

Samira: "My father and my husband used to work in Israel."

Q: When are you going home?

Raida's eyes fill with tears. "Rana's chest is still open from the last surgery. I'm sitting with you and laughing, but my heart is crying. So I'm telling you that my every thought is for the baby. That's our situation."

Lama: "Today, Dr. Evytar said that Abdullah has an infection in his right lung, which was good. Until now he had one in his left lung. I hope it works out. I'll go back to Gaza when he gets better, but I don't know when."

Hospital Director Dr. Itai Pessach says that every year, the center treats about 500 children from Gaza and another 2,700 children from the Palestinian Authority. "They range in age from a week to 18. Some of the children arrive through the Shevet Achim organization, and others through our own coordinator."

"During the last military operation, our doctor colleagues in Gaza reached out to us about children in serious condition, and we fought to bring them to Israel during the operation. Unfortunately, we didn't succeed, and that's very sad. I'm happy we're getting back to normal," Pessach says.

According to Pessach, "we don't see any difference between a child who comes from Gaza, Nablus, or Tiberias. Our treatment looks at all the child's needs, including emotional needs and school work at the school that operates on the hospital grounds. A year ago, a nine-year-old boy with cancer arrived from Gaza who didn't know how to read and write. He returned to Gaza last month, after a year-long hospitalization, healthy and knowing how to read and write in Hebrew, Arabic, and even English."

Q: How did the patients respond to this during the Gaza fighting?

"A family from Gaza arrived two days before the operation started, and we diagnosed their son with a rare disease, one that only seven children in Israel have. By chance, two rooms away there was a Haredi family with a child who had been diagnosed with the same disease two months ago. While the rockets were falling, the Haredi mother insisted on meeting the mother from Gaza and teaching her everything she knew about the disease and how to treat it."

"There is a truly shared fate here. They feel that they're fighting against something bigger than rockets. To get better, a patient needs to feel secure, and that's what we're doing. A hospital is a home for all the patients.

"I'm happy to say that the external tensions didn't creep into the work. There was no tension between the staff and the patients. The good of the patient always comes before everything else. Even at administration meetings – everyone put aside their own political views and we managed to provide a quality medical response and protect the safety of the staff and patients," Pessach says.

The funding for the Gaza children's treatment comes mainly from donors – mostly American Christians, and some Israelis.

"Saving the life of the child is an entire world," says Jonathan Miles, founder of Shevet Achim. Miles arrive in Israel from the US in the 1990s, as a journalist, and started to volunteer with the group Christian Friends of Israel.

"We welcomed Russian immigrants to Israel. We wanted them to understand that the Jewish people have friends in the world. One day a mother from Ukraine whose child's life was in danger came to me. She had no money for medical treatment, and she begged me to help. I started raising money to help him. Wizo helped a lot, as did other people, both Jews and Christians.

"After that, I heard about sick babies in Gaza, and in 1994 I founded the organization. We bring children from Muslim states to Israel for treatment."

Amar Shami, 32, who coordinates the transfer of children from Gaza to Israel for Shevet Achim, lives in Jerusalem.

"The families who go back to Gaza tell each other about the treatment in Israel," he says. "One mother tells another. When the child has a problem, they reach out to me. Sometimes the doctors reach out directly." Q: What goes through your mind while you're busy providing treatment and rockets are flying outside?

"Inside the hospital, we detach. We only want to help them. When you go out you realize that reality is different. We hope that when the families from Gaza go home, they will sort of be our emissaries, say good things about Israel."

The night that the ceasefire between Israel and Hamas took effect, Rana's heart stopped beating, despite the doctors' best efforts. Her grandmother, Raida, left the hospital weeping. She was driven to a Shevet Achim apartment in Jaffa. When Erez crossing opened, she returned to Gaza with Rana's coffin.

#Israel #Gaza #Israeli Hospitals

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simpsiren · 3 years

Text

closer to you

lee jeno x reader

main masterlist

the sequel

description. you’re in a 2 year relationship with jaemin. the two of you know very well that you arent each other’s soulmates but you still felt that jaemin was the right one for you. that is until you are celebrating your 2 year anniversary with jaemin that memories of you being with someone else in your so called “past life” starts coming back to you, as if wanting to make you realise that your soulmate is still out there.

genre. soulmate au, strangers to lovers au, fluff and angst

warnings. none? except for the fact that reader becomes violent in their words when they’re stressed i guess

a/n. literally got this idea from the flashback tiktoks thats been appearing in my fyp. like ive seen it so many times that i just had to write about it HAHA alrighty thats all enjoyy :D

when the idea of soulmates was first represented to humans, humans deeply believed in it, and would follow the idea of it religiously to find the one that they are truly meant to be with. however, now in the modern day, the idea of soulmates is slowly disappearing. people still believe that the number engraved on the side of their right foot is the time and date that they’ll meet their soulmates, but people of this generation start ignoring that fact, marrying someone that isnt even their soulmate. it left their actual soulmate to either die alone, or having to force themselves to love and marry someone else other than their soulmate.

and now here you are, surrounded by your friends with jaemin sitting next to you, your boyfriend of two years who’s number on the side of his foot does not match yours.

“blow out the candles already!” you hear johnny screaming. you and jaemin turn to look at each other at the same time, giving a smile before blowing out the two candles on the red velvet cheesecake that signified your two year relationship with jaemin.

you laugh loudly as everyone claps for the two of you. jaemin quickly places a peck on your cheek, making everyone smile widely. “i love you.” jaemin whispers into your ear.

“i love you too.”

“do you really not care who your actually soulmate is? you know very well jaemin isnt yours.” you purse your lips into a thin line as you find jaehyun leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom.

“does it look like i care? who the hell even cares? ill be with who i wanna be! i aint gonna follow some ‘oh you’re destined to be with this guy’ type bullshit.” you giggle to yourself as you took a sip the whiskey in hand, despite already being in a very drunken state.

jaehyun walks over to you and snatches the glass away from you. you whine and beg for it back, but you know all too well that jaehyun is not going to give you what you want. you let out a huff in response.

“my god, evaline. how drunk can you be?” jaehyun takes a seat on the chair that faces your bed, in which you are currently rolling on and mumbling to yourself about god knows what.

jaehyun sighs as he looks at you. he’s been your friend for almost forever yet he still cant get over the fact that no matter how hard he tries to persuade you that jaemin isnt your soulmate, you give zero fucks about it.

“i really hope he comes in your dreams or something. if i can’t convince you, then why isnt the world doing anything about it?” jaehyun whispers to himself, resting his chin on his palm as his elbow is placed on the arm rest of the chair.

you wake up with a sharp pain in your head. you wince as you slowly tried to sit up straight. you rub your eyes and try looking around your room. everything is normal, except for the fact that jaehyun is sleeping on your chair. you shrug your shoulders as you let out a long sigh and stare at the door in front of you, spacing out for a little. after at least five minutes of you doing nothing and staring off into who knows what, you gather up your strength to stand up from your bed. you stagger your way over to jaehyun.

“jae, wake up already. make me something to sober up- ouch!”

your foot suddenly hurt, making you stumble back and fall onto the floor. you flinched in fear when you realise the number on your foot is glowing. you scream in pain as you feel as though something thin and sharp is constantly stabbing your foot. the spinning in your head only made it worse. jaehyun wakes up from all your screaming and drops down on the floor to assist you quickly.

“evaline? eva! what’s wrong? wait why’s it glowing..” jaehyun eyes travel from your scrunched up face to your leg, noticing the number that’s glowing.

suddenly, your vision became blurry. you lost sight of what’s happening around you. you dont see your room and jaehyun in front of you anymore. you struggled as you try to squint your eyes to get your vision to be clear. it took awhile for your vision to come back. and when it did, something wasnt right.

it was like you were having a flashback. a flashback to a time you were unfamiliar with. you didn’t remember experiencing it at all. but the flasback looked like memories that you feel a sudden strong connection with.

the flashback was vivid. you couldn’t tell exactly what was going on. you saw a guy, estimated to be around your age, who’s smiling widely till his eyes form a thin line and holding up a polaroid camera to your point of view. you heard him laugh as snaps a picture and the camera’s flash shined your view. you soon focused your vision again onto the guy. he’s waiting for the film to develop. and that’s all you saw. a small snippet of a far distant memory which you arent even sure if it happened.

after that, you snapped out of your odd trance. you feel jaehyun shaking your shoulders with the look of extreme concern on your face. you bring your hand up to your head and scratch it slowly as you tilt your head in awe. jaehyun stops his actions as looks at you wierdly.

“what the fuck did i just experience?” you mumble to yourself, trying to process what you just went through. you look up from the floor to see jaehyun blinking his eyes rapidly.

“you saw what?”

you were this close to slapping jaehyun in the face.

“how many times do i have to fucking repeat myself?! i got a flashback of a memory of some random dude that i dont even know about!”

jaehyun’s mouth remains open in shock and confusion. it took him a few seconds to process your words. and when it did, he places both his hands on the table.

“its a sign.” your forehead creases as you look at him weirdly.

“the fuck you just say?” you pick up your fork and stab it into your freshly cooked fried chicken meal.

“is this the first time you experience it?” jaehyun asks you as he takes a sip of water. you took a moment to think about it.

“yeah it is.” you breathe out. jaehyun only nodded his head. he starts thinking about what he wished for that night had something to do with what happened to you.

“you know what? forget it. i need to meet up with jaemin for our date. ill see you around.” you finish what’s left on your plate, waving to jaehyun before leaving the restaurant.

jaehyun watches your back as you slowly disappear into the distance. “it cant be... can it?” jaehyun shakes his head and continues eating.

“hey, babe. how was lunch with jaehyun?” jaemin wraps his arm around your waist as he leans down to peck your lips.

“it was good. let’s get ice cream.” you give off a wide smile and dragged jaemin to the famous ice cream shop that you were dying to try.

by the time you were halfway to finishing your ice cream, it was already 8pm. you’re weekly ice cream date with jaemin never fails to be extended as your chats with him grow longer and longer with every date.

as jaemin was talking, your mind goes back to the time you had that odd flashback. you wonder what it meant, or whats the significance of it. why did that suddenly happen to you? what can you do to make it go away? because for all you know, you have everything you need right here, in front of you. you had jaemin.

“eva? hello~?” jaemin waves his hand in front of you to snap you back into reality. you shake your head vigorously. “oh shit im sorry jaemin what did you say?” jaemin smiles softly as he repeats over what he say.

it was about 10pm and you decided it was finally time to go home. you would have taken the train alone but jaemin insisted on accompanying you home and going back by himself after. you and jaemin were walking down the street that will lead to your apartment when jaemin sudden opens his mouth to ask you something.

“did you ever believe about the soulmate thing?” you stop walking and turn your body to face jaemin. jaemin does the same, shoving his hands in his pockets.

you shrug your shoulder and placed your weight on one leg. “i used to, but i slowly started to think it was ridiculous and that i should be able to love who i want, not someone im destined to be with.” you reply, slowly reaching your hand out to run your hand through jaemin’s hair. he smiles at your touch and pulls you in with your other arm, hugging you gently.

“im glad to be the one that you love, despite the fact that im not who you’re destined to be with.” jaemin strokes your hair and digs his head into the crook of your neck. you rub his back slowly. “me too.” you kiss jaemin on the cheek and pull away, smiling softly. “come on, we’re almost at my apartment.” your hands trailed down to meet jaemin’s, interlocking your fingers with his and you both continued walking down the long street.

however, for the first time, it felt as though jaemin’s hand didn’t sit right with yours, like his hand didnt belong to fit in yours. you look down at the interlocking hands. you never felt this way before. why did it occur to you only now?

“something on your mind, eva?” you hear jaemin ask. you shot your gaze up from your jaemin’s hand to his eyes, shaking your head as you faked a smile.

weird

a week has passed since that weird encounter of yours. you couldn’t get it out of your head. every hour of the day you’ll spare a few minutes thinking about it. why did you feel so connected to it? you felt eager to know about what i meant. why did a few seconds of experiencing a distant memory would be etched into your mind as you constantly replay what you saw that time?

you found it funny how you were already so deep in your thoughts early in the morning. you lay in bed looking through your social medias for awhile before getting out of bed to head to the living room.

you see jaehyun sitting on the couch, immensely concentrated on whatever’s on the television screen. you take a seat beside jaehyun, looking down, you see him munching on a bowl of popcorn.

“popcorn for breakfast. really?” you raise an eyebrow as jaehyun nods his head and offers the bowl. you take it regardless of your comment and stuffed popcorn in your mouth.

“you didn’t shower yet?” jaehyun asks. you only shrug in reply. jaehyun looks at you with a disguested look.

“i bet you didn’t shower either, now did you?” jaehyun kept quiet as his eyes widened yet still glued onto the screem. you observed his reaction and scoff, rolling your eyes. “idiot.” jaehyun glances at you and chukles, reaching out to take a handful of popcorn.

“what are you even watching?”

“a movie that i didn’t finish last night.” that explains the popcorn then.

you focus your mind on the movie, despite not knowing what it’s about. everything seemed normal until you see a couple suddenly come on screen. they’re apparently at a amusement park.

almost instantly, you lost sight of your surroundings. oh no.. it’s happening again. you shut your eyes tightly as your vision became blurry once again. you opened your eyes widely to find yourself at an amusement park. a flashback is now occuring, this time it was different.

the flashback. it wasnt a memory you’re unfamiliar with. its jaemin. you see jaemin come into view. it looked like you were taken back to your third date where jaemin brought you to an amusement park. you see him running in front of you happily. jaemin was about to turn around, and you remembered that exactly after that he smiled at you. but he doesn’t. you realise that its not even jaemin.

the one you’re seeing now is the guy from your previous flashback. the polaroid guy. he smiled the exact same way he did when he took the picture of you in the flashback. the guy reaches out to take your hand and you’re being pulled towards him. why does it feel like you’ve seen him somewhere? or maybe you haven’t, but feel like you would some time in the future.

“eva? god, evaline! wake up please!” you hear jaehyun’s voice.

“did it happened agai-“

“it happened again.”

you look around. everything was back to normal. you look at jaehyun. but his eyes were fixated on your foot, he looks shocked. you slowly tilt your head down to look at the number on your right foot. it changed. the number.. reshuffled themselves?

“you’re seeing that too right..?”

you nod your head slowly. its getting more weird. the number on your foot said that you’ll meet your “soulmate” on february 12th, 2020 at 7:06pm. but now, it changed itself to become december 6th, 2020 at 2:19am.

basically it went from 12.02.2020 19:06 to 06.12.2020 02:19

“did i space out again?” you look up at jaehyun as he nod slowly, still looking at your foot in shock. you couldn’t blame him. what happen? did it somehow extended the time you’re about to meet your soulmate? why did it happen? what does it mean?

you told jaehyun what happen. and he almost fainted. you let out a long sigh.

“im telling you its a sign. probably the guy you’re seeing is your soulmate.” jaehyun says lazily and he muched on some strawberry pocky.

“then why was jaemin in the flashback too? isnt it weird?” jaehyun nods his head quickly. he puts down the pack of pocky on his lap and blinks a couple of times. you see the gears turning in his head as you assume that he’s trying to come up with an explanation.

“maybe jaemin’s tied to the guy? like maybe jaemin knows him. or the dude’s from your past life and somehow jaemin is representing the guy in your present life.” jaehyun looks down to see his pocky was stolen from you. you nod your head and you continuously stuffed each stick into your mouth and eating them. “urgh i dont fucking know what to do about this!” you groan in frustration. suddenly, something hits you.

“wait. what’s today’s date?”

jaehyun lifts his phone up to check. “30th november. why?” jaehyun asks. “oh wait.”

“you’re telling me i have a full week until i meet my so called soulmate that i dont even know where ill meet him?!”

you scoff in disbelief. jaehyun doesnt respond, only staring at your face like he’s seen a ghost.

“can i somehow break someone’s neck and slam it on the wall for like i dont know, 5 hours?!”

no reply from jaehyun once again.

“oh for fuck’s sake i cant do this! im heading to johnny’s tea shop for my depression tea. meet me there if you want, i’ll probably be there the whole day as my head constantly spins.”

you quickly got up from the couch and get ready. jaehyun sees you coming out of your room with a hoodie and plain wide legged jeans. you only grab your phone and keys and waved jaehyun goodbye before leaving the apartment. jaehyun sighs.

“i might have set her temper circuit short.” jaehyun whispers to himself and sighs, getting off the couch as well to head over to johnny’s tea shop. “literally could have drove her there but oh well.”

when you enter the shop, johnny face lit up with a huge smile. he runs over to hug you but his smile soon fades away and into a confused look when he sees how pissed you look.

“that’s very... interesting.” johnny comments. you sigh and nod, fiddling with the teaspoon in your drink. “yeah well its not going to be fun once jaemin knows.” johnny stops in his actions and looks up at you. your eyes glanced at johnny before tilting your head up from the drink that wrapped around your hands.

“yes i haven’t told jaemin. i didn’t think it meant anything at first but now...”

“you have to tell him! soon! its a sign!” johnny exclaims. you smacked your hand onto your forehead lightly. “i’ve heard that phrase countless of times by jaehyun and now you too? can you please explain?” you whine, scratching your head vigorously as you argrily take a sip of tea.

you were stressed, very stressed. life was going so well until this happened. you dont know who the mystery guy is. you dont know why he’s “memories” with you suddenly come back, especially when you’re in a really intimate relationship with jaemin. the same question keeps repeating in your head over and over each day and it gets more stressful when you try to think of an answer for them.

“no no listen. it happened to my relative. she was 3 months away from marrying her boyfriend who’s number doesnt match hers. and then she started getting weird flashbacks and she said that the number on her foot changed so that she wouldn’t miss a chance to meet her soulmate in the future instead of the past. and the so called memories? they’re memories that you’ll make with your soulmate once you meet them. the world is trying to make you realise that the guy in your flashbacks is your soulmate and not jaemin.”

you kept silent. so what jaehyun said was right. it was a sign to encourage you to find your real soulmate instead of settling for the one you arent meant to be with. you let out a sigh of relief as you finally know the background information to your whole situation.

“that’s a lot to take in.. how am i suppose to tell jaemin?” you frown as you look out the window. you love jaemin, very much. but to be honest, for the whole 2 years of your relationship with him, everything felt perfect, yet something was off. you never managed to pin point what, until now.

“oh i texted him just now when you were talking to me and he’s coming since he wants to see you.” great. you arent mentally prepared to tell jaemin yet and he’s going to arrive here in 15 minutes.

“evaline! johnny texted me saying you were here and i immediately rushed over.” jaemin comes up from behind and kisses your cheek. you purse your lips into a thin line and you look to johnny leaving his seat. he nods his head, in a way to give you confidence to tell jaemin about the whole ordeal.

“jaemin.. i have to tell you something.” when jaemin takes the seat where johnny sat, you reach your hand out to grab his, slowly soothing your thumb over his skin. “mhm yeah what?” you look up from his hand to his face.

“ive been getting um.. signs lately. flashbacks. jaehyun told me that the guy, who’s always the main subject of my flashbacks could be my soulmate. and i might be meeting him soon, on 6th december.” you whisper to him, biting your lip.

jaemin swallows his own saliva, blinking at you a few times as he tries to process what you said. he lets out a long sigh and painfully puts on a soft smile.

“i knew it was going to happen to one of us sooner. ive heard about the flashbacks. its bound to happen sooner or later.” you nod your head in response.

“im sorry, jaemin. i love you very much-“

“its fine. i understand. im glad the world made you realise that you’re soulmate is still wondering around somewhere, and that it isnt me. im happy i got to spend 2 years loving you.. it made me feel good.” you interlocked your fingers with his, smiling softly before letting go.

you could tell jaemin was hurt. like a knife was stabbed into his heart. you see it behind his smile, his eyes. you knew him all too well.

“we’ll still be friends. and i hope you’re soulmate will come to you.”

jaemin only nods. you lean in and give one last passionate kiss on the cheek before hearing the bell above the door ringing, and noticing that jaehyun has arrived.

december 3rd, 2020. you’re three days away to meeting your soulmate. where? you werent sure.

“good morning, evaline.” you hear jaehyun say. you just got out of bed and you were walking to the kitchen when you see what jaehyun was doing. he’s reading a book. your vision went blank.

its another flashback. you start to mentally prepare yourself as yoh want to absorb as much information as possible on your soulmate in the small portion of the memories.

“the book’s is interesting.” you’re hearing your soulmates voice. you try to figure out if you’ve heard it or not, but shake it out of your head when yoh remember your goal of gathering information. you registered the tone of his voice.

he’s sitting on a bed with round gold glasses on, in his pajamas.

your soulmate laughs. the same way he did the first time. he turns the book to you and it showed his phone betweem the pages of the book, resting there. “just joking!” you hear him say. you take a look at the wallpaper of your soulmate’s lockscreen. it was a picture of him kissing your cheek. it looked oddly the same as the picture you and jaemin once took together. however, there was a text above the picture. evaline heather and lee jeno

lee jeno. that’s the name of your soulmate.

december 5th, 2020. you’re starting to mentally prepare yourself. you dont know where you’re about to meet him. you tried coming up with all possibilities. to be frank, you were more excited about whether the places you thought of might be the place you meet your soulmate rather than being nervous.

the three flashbacks you had. it felt all too familiar. like you’ve known this lee jeno person forever. you feel the connection each time.

when the clock strikes 12am, your mind unknowingly decides to go to the park. the park where you and jaemin first met. you dont know why. it felt like your body was urging you to go there. you lazily got ready and headed out the door, of course you told jaehyun about your outing before leaving the apartment.

you had your hands shoved into your pockets with your hoodie on as you yawned. you breathed in the night air, admiring it dearly. when you reached the park, a quick glance at your phone told you that its 2am. you sigh and took a seat on the bench mindlessly after walking around the park.

you sat there for a few minutes, looking up into the sky and staring off into the distance. suddenly, you felt a presence next to you. you turn your head over to see a guy.

“you seemed pretty lonely so i brought ice cream-“

that voice.

“what’s your name?” you interrupt

the guy pauses and smiles. his face, his smile. its just like the one in your flashback.

“lee jeno. you?”

you didn’t reply. its him. he’s your soulmate, he’s here.

“why does it feel like ive known you for a very long time..?” you slowly started to ask as your eyes looked at him up and down.

jeno chuckles. “maybe..” you see jeno taking off his slipper on his right foot and lifting up his foot. you see the exact number that’s engraved on your foot.

“im your soulmate.”

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