#tw: fear | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sortofanobsession · 3 months

Note

could you maybe write a fic where Jamie gets sick at an away game— whether it be anxiety, food poisoning, flu, etc. Maybe he sicks up in the middle of the night and Dani or Sam (I imagine they room together and are best friends) go get Roy and he’s very very sweet in his own Roy way to Jamie and then the next day on the bus Jamie still doesn’t feel good so he snuggles into Roy in the back of the bus?

I literally love your work so much and would absolutely die if you wrote this (plus my birthday is coming up (Jan 25th) so this would be so epic to read then))

Happy Early Birthday, Anon!

Here is worried Roy Kent, sick and confused Jamie, amused Keeley, #1 nurse Phoebe, and well, everyone else. Hope you like it.

A/N: I'm not a medical expert. I have asthma so I know a few things about raspatory issues. But this might not be the most accurate. And it's unbeta read, as usual.

Ted Lasso Masterlist

Ao3

Pairing: RoyJamie

word count: 4k+

Content warning: Illness, pneumonia, fever, coughing, vomiting (from coughing), panic, angst, sleep depravation, fear, swearing/cursing/cussing.

Fever in the Night

Roy Kent growls at the knock that would have woken him up if he had been asleep. He’d been reading and didn’t appreciate being interrupted.

“Better be fucking dying,” He grumbles as he opens the door. “What?” he snaps at Sam Obisanya.

“Sorry, Coach,” Sam nervously says. “But it’s Jamie.”

And that has Roy moving before his tired brain catches up. He almost forgets to grab his room key and phone, but he isn't a fucking idiot, so he grabs them. Sam relaxes a tiny bit that Roy didn't argue or even swear as much as Sam had expected for it being 1 a.m. Roy feels uneasy when he looks up to see Dani Rojas and Jeff Goodman in the hall, both in the open door of the room Sam and Jamie shared. The four players have adjoining rooms.

“What about Jamie?” Roy finally asks as he follows Sam.

“He's very sick,” a worried Dani Rojas says. Jeff nods.

“Okay,” Roy says. He was tempted to ask them why the fuck they woke him and not the team’s doctor, but it was about Jamie Tartt. He'd be pissed if they didn't. He cares about Jamie. And he shoves that thought aside because he really shouldn't think like that. And Roy forgets it completely when he gets one look at Jamie. Jamie’s pale. His stupid fucking hair is sweat drenched and sticking to his face.

“You two, out,” he says to Dani and Jeff by the door.

“But-” Dani starts, but Roy glares. Jeff was smart enough to be back in his own room already.

“You have a fucking match, with or without Tartt, so fucking sleep. He'll be fucking fine.”

The coach weighs his options before handing Sam his own room key. “You fucking too.”

“But coach-”

“Not going to fucking repeat it,” he snaps.

“What about you?”

“Don't fucking argue.”

“Sorry, coach,” Sam says, but he hasn't moved. The room key and his phone gripped right in his hands.

“I’ll call the physio team, now fucking go.”

Sam nods and silently leaves. Roy sighs once the doors are closed. As tired as he is, his fucking heart is pounding. Something is wrong with Jamie Tartt. And that twists something inside the gaffer. And despite the protest in his knee, he is kneeling down beside Jamie to get a good look at him. He should call the physio team. He needs the team’s doctor. Roy might know more than your average bloke when it comes to health, thanks to his sister, but he's no bloody expert. But he needs a bit more information first. He reaches up and carefully moves the hair out of Jamie's face.

“Fucking hell,” he says when just his fingertips can feel the heat of a fever. Just to be sure, he places his palm on Jamie's forehead. And he squashes down whatever feeling is stirred up by how the sick striker shivers at the contact but still leans into it.

“Fucking burning up,” Roy mutters to himself.

He winces at the pain in his knee as he stands up. He tucks Jamie's blankets tighter around him. The gaffer is scrolling through his contacts to find the one he needs. He flips the light on in the ensuite and talks to the team's doctor as he grabs a flannel and wets it. As he hangs up the phone, he sets the damp cloth on Jamie's forehead. That's when the player’s eyes snap open. Confusion, followed by panic, flashed across the striker’s face. Because in Jamie's mind, if Roy Kent is there, then Jamie is running late for something, and Roy is probably pissed at him. Jamie hates when Roy is pissed at him. Jamie doesn't like disappointing Roy.

“Easy, Tartt,” Roy says. “Fucking stay put.” Roy puts the fallen flannel back in place. “Try and relax.”

And as anxious as Jamie is, a command from Roy Kent is one that Jamie will follow.

“Roy?” Jamie manages to ask. And the coach hates how tired, weak, and utterly confused Jamie seems.

Before Roy can say anything else, a knock at the door makes Jamie flinch. Without thinking, Roy smoothes the younger man’s hair back in an attempt to calm him as he gets up. Roy’s always been better at physical gestures than words. And if that's what was needed to keep Tartt from panicking or hurting himself, well, then that was a no fucking brainer. He was going to fucking do it.

He lets the doctor into the room and silently hovers as the doctor deals with the striker.

“Any other player showing symptoms?” the doctor asks the gaffer.

“Fuck if I know, Obisanya, Rojas, and Goodman just seemed fucking worried. Are we going to have a fucking team tomorrow?”

“Guess we will see in the morning,” the doctor says. Roy gets a rundown on what needs to be done for Jamie. The coach leans his head against the cool wood of the door when he closes it behind the doctor.

“Where's Sam?” Jamie asks, finally realizing that his roommate’s gone. And that concerns Roy a bit. Jamie is one of his most observant players. On and off the pitch, he tends to keep track of who is around him and where his mates are. He likes knowing where the people he cares about are. He was just noticing Sam’s absence now, which wasn’t a good sign.

“Sent him off to get some fucking sleep,” Roy says. Several things had been dropped off at the room by either the physio team or hotel staff. Roy had been focused on the doctor and Jamie when it had happened. The gaffer hands the player a bottle of water. Jamie takes it without argument.

“Where?” Jamie glanced at Sam's empty bed. Roy rolls his eyes.

“My room,” Roy answers, and that seems to surprise Jamie. Before the player can comment on the decision, Roy adds, “Not like I'm fucking using it.” And Roy regrets saying it at the way Jamie gets a sad look on his face. “It's fucking fine, Tartt. My fucking choice.”

“But-”

“But someone needs to make sure you fucking rest.”

And Jamie hates that because he doesn't want to be a burden to anyone.

“You don't need to-”

“Already fucking decided,” Roy states. “Just try and fucking sleep.”

Roy is woken up by violent coughing, and he is out of bed without thinking. Helping raise Phoebe had him trained to be a light sleeper at times like these. Roy follows the sound to the loo. He knocks on the closed door. He didn't know if Jamie had coughed so hard he made himself vomit or vice versa. But from what he could hear, it was painfully obvious one of the two had occurred. The gaffer is glad to find the door unlocked and lets himself in. Jamie tries to argue and kick him out, but he is tired and shaking and can barely move. And that has something in Roy breaking.

“Not fucking going anywhere, Tartt,” Roy says. As he grabs some water and sits beside Jamie. Jamie accepts the glass if only to rinse his mouth out. Roy can hear the way Jamie's lungs struggle, and that has Roy struggling not to panic. But he manages. He gets Jamie calmed down, cleaned up, and back in bed. Roy ends up texting his sister, who calls him. She asks him if Jamie has been sick recently, but then he remembers what Jamie had told him during training. He'd nearly choked to death at Ola’s over a joke one of the other idiots had told him. And fuck, Jamie couldn't catch a break. His sister tells him it sounds like aspiration pneumonia to her. He should have the doctor double-check, but hopefully, Jamie being a fit footballer will mean he can fight it off without too much trouble. He would need to keep a close eye on him. Hopefully, he wouldn't need to be admitted to hospital. And that had Roy’s blood running cold. A cold and a fucking joke. He sent a message to the physio team and went back to Jamie.

The only good thing was that pneumonia wasn't inherently contagious. The cold Jamie had before it might be, but it was unlikely to take Sam, Dani, or Jeff out of the game. Jamie wouldn't be leaving the hotel the next morning. Roy really dreaded the idea, but he was already hitting the number on his phone. Keeley would have a lot to say about this at some point. She’d probably see right through him and know he cares more than he should for just being Jamie’s coach. But he needed help, and he knew Jamie trusted Keeley as much as Roy did.

“Better be good, Roy,” Keeley says. She was clearly annoyed and not a fan of being woken at nearly 4 in the morning.

“Fucking opposite, it's very fucking bad,” he says, and he sounds it. And she knows if Roy is that upset, it means one of three people was in a bad state. It must be Roy's sister, his niece, or Jamie Tartt. Roy and Jamie might both be her exes, but she knew them well enough to know that they were both idiots in love, just neither of them would admit it. And since it's an away match, it probably meant Jamie was the one having issues.

“What's wrong? What happened?” She says, all annoyance gone and completely awake. “Is Jamie all right?”

Roy tells her what has happened since Sam knocked on his door. She tells him to keep doing what he's doing. She’ll stay with Jamie during the match.

“Just let me text Rebecca, and I’ll be there,” Keeley tells him. Roy Kent doesn't argue.

Roy is an anxious fucking mess throughout the whole match. He does his job. The team does theirs, but everyone feels like there is a gaping hole in the lineup. Even if they physically have a full team, thanks to Roberts. But Isaac had told them to win it for Jamie, and the fucking lads did. That would at least make Jamie feel better about having missed it. Colin Hughes and Dani Rojas had Sky Sports doing replays of goals. And post-game interviews had been more about Tartt than one would think for a game he wasn't in. Roy was just glad he’d had Jamie give Georgie a heads-up that he was sick before he left for the match. The striker listened to his mum as an amused Keeley kicked Roy out of the room.

The team didn't even ask Roy if he was going out to celebrate the win. The gaffer hadn't even hung back for the bus. He didn't even change his clothes. He let Nathan Shelley to handle the press. He caught a ride back to the hotel, annoyed by the chatty driver, but he was cognizant enough to not verbally eviscerate the guy. He was just doing his job. Tipped the guy well. Not his fault Roy was a shit company.

“You weren't joking,” Keeley grinned when she opened the door for Roy. Her voice was quiet.

“Said I'd be back after the match,” he stated as he tossed his jacket over a chair in the room. His tone matches hers. “How is he?”

“Out cold. Whatever the new doctor gave him must be working.”

Roy hummed. The hotel’s concierge had arranged for a local doctor to treat Jamie so the physio team could focus on the match. And Roy didn't even mind the outrageous fee that was going to cost them. He'd throw all the money he had at it, even though he knew Rebecca Welton would cover it in a heartbeat. She cared deeply for her team these days. And Roy could respect that. He did respect that about his boss. He glanced at the muted TV as Sky Sports blathered on about the game. Roy was glad it was silent. He could ignore the bullshit commentary on his coaching. They won. That's all that fucking mattered.

“You need to leave?” Roy asked at the way Keeley's phone kept going off.

“Maybe to take a few calls. Seems the internet is not satisfied with the team's explanation of Jamie's absence.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Roy says as he moves to check on Jamie himself.

“You would say that,” Keeley grins. “But it's my job to answer it. I'm his publicist, after all.”

“Fair,” Roy states, but he doesn't look at her. His eyes are locked on Jamie. He doesn't see the knowing look on Keeley's face.

“Team should be here soon,” she tells him as she grabs her bag. “Text me if you need me.”

Roy grunts and nods. He finally looks up at her.

“Doctor said he’ll be back up in a few days,” she assures him. “Bus ride might suck, but we'll manage.”

After she leaves, Roy turns off the TV. He was glad he and Sam had switched rooms. He silently changes into more comfortable clothes and pulls a chair up next to the bed. He picks up the book he had been reading. He didn't get very far in his book. He was too distracted by the wheezing sound coming from Jamie. He knew the team was back as the noise level in the hall increased. He was about to go out and tell them all to shut the fuck up when someone beat him to it. There was a quiet knock on the door.

He opens it to find Nathan Shelley.

“How is he?” the assistant coach asks.

“Sleeping, but it's not fucking great,” he tells him.

“Think he’ll be able to travel?” Nate asks.

“Can't fucking leave him here,” Roy says.

“That's true, but it won't make him worse, will it?”

“Not much to fucking do about it.”

Roy had bought Keeley a ticket back so she could meet them when they got back. She complained, but he was ordering her around, but she didn't really mean it. They were both worried about Jamie. And if she could help ease his pain after a long trip, then she would.

Roy had triple-checked that he had everything packed up for both himself and Jamie. Dani and Jeff had taken their stuff down so Roy could focus on getting Jamie up and moving. No one says anything, but they watch curiously as Roy leads a pale Jamie to the far back of the bus. The players exchanged worried looks. It was going to be a long, tense ride back to Richmond.

The bus was quiet, as it usually is during these late-night trips, but this was an uneasy silence. The entire bus would go painfully tense every time Jamie coughed.

They were on the road for half an hour when Roy noticed Jamie was shaking. Roy couldn't imagine how shitty the striker must feel. Fever-induced chill on a fucking crowded bus.

Jamie's eyes snap to his when Roy feels the ill man’s forehead for what feels like the millionth time.

“You okay?” Roy asks quietly.

“Cold,” Jamie says. And Roy had already figured that out by the way Jamie not only avoided the cold glass of the window but also the way Jamie sort of chased the warmth of Roy's hand as he pulled away. How Jamie could be burning up but shivering cold had Roy thinking this was a terrible idea. He should have made better arrangements for Jamie. He should have extended their stay at the hotel, no matter the price, and sent the team back without them. Sure, there would be a lot of questions he didn't even want to answer to himself, let alone out loud, but he regrets not doing it. For Jamie's health and safety. Jamie was already wrapped in his usual blanket, a new one Keeley had given him, and Jamie's jacket. But it didn't seem to be enough.

Roy hummed.

Jamie's tired eyes watched as Roy dug through the bag he had with him. First, he makes Jamie take more meds. Jamie is vaguely aware of the quiet buzzing alarm on Roy’s phone. As he takes the meds, he sees Roy pull out a jumper from his bag. Roy kept it with him on trips like these in case a hotel or bus had a busted heater, and he needed extra layers. Jamie considers arguing, but he is just too exhausted to actually do it when Roy helps him out of his jacket and into the jumper. Instead of Jamie’s jacket, Roy's much thicker leather jacket, still warm from Roy wearing it, is wrapped around the striker. Jamie almost cries because it's warm and it smells like Roy, and it's overwhelmingly comforting to his fever-muddled mind. Roy must notice the glassy look in Jamie's already bloodshot eyes because without hesitation or protest, even at the odd looks from a few people around them, Roy shifts them both. Roy moves so he can lean against the window with Jamie's back to his chest. One foot on the floor to brace them both. And Jamie manages to get a bit more air than he had bundled up in the window seat. Roy was fucking warm, and Jamie just wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep in his lap, but his lungs hurt, and he could barely breathe as is. Thankfully, the bench at the back of the bus they were on was a bit longer than the normal seats, and Roy could stretch his knee out. They still had nearly 5 hours on the bus. Jamie’s eyelids felt heavy when Roy pulled the blankets back around him. The violent chills finally eased a bit. Jamie didn't know if it was from the meds or how blissfully warm Roy fucking Kent was, but he felt just a tiny bit more human.

“Quit fighting it and fucking sleep, Tartt,” Roy said. Jamie chuckles, but it turns into a wheezing cough that earns concerned luck from the teammates who are sitting nearby. The striker doesn't see the way Roy silently waves them off, too distracted by the way Roy’s arm holds him tight, a hand on his chest to keep him from falling to the floor. Roy's other hand starts rubbing Jamie's back until he can pull an exhausted Jamie back against his chest.

“Just try and breathe, Jamie,” Roy's voice is in his ear, sending a shiver down Jamie’s spine. “Let the medicine work. Nothing else matters. Just fucking breathe.”

Jamie whines slightly because all he wants to do is tuck his face in Roy's next and probably cry.

Roy Kent’s heart fucking shattered at the weak noise that Jamie makes, and he can't take it. He wraps his arms as tight around Jamie as he dares with how much the striker is already struggling to breathe. And he plants a kiss on Jamie's temple.

“It's okay, Jamie,” the older man assures. “I've got you.” And that seems to do the trick because Jamie’s hands wrap around Roy's wrist. So the coach adds, “I'm not going anywhere.” And Roy starts quietly telling Jamie about his first time in Newcastle as a kid when he’d been training in Sunderland. His hushed words continue until Jamie is fast asleep against him.

About halfway through the trip, Coach Beard comes to check on them. He isn't surprised that Jamie is passed out. Nor is he shocked to find Roy Kent wide awake. The gaffer might be exhausted, and on night two, he has no sleep, but he is wide awake. Beard hands him a water bottle. One Roy accepts because he was sort of trapped where he is.

“You good?” Beard asks. Roy nods because as painfully asleep his leg might be, and as achy his bad knee is, he'd endure it if it meant Jamie slept. Jamie had spent much of the first hour of the trip trying to get comfortable. The fact he had slept long enough for Roy to get sore was good.

“Fucking fine,” Roy grumbles.

“You sure?” Nate asks when he appears over Beard’s shoulder. “We could help you-”

He is cut off by a low growl from Roy. “You fucking wake him, and you’ll be picking your teeth up out the aisle.”

“Right, yeah, got it,” Nate says before disappearing, presumably back to his seat. Beard just nods and hands him the book Roy had set aside.

Roy can feel the rattle in Jamie's lungs worsening as the meds wear off, and Jamie starts to wake up. Thankfully, they were only about 45 minutes out from the dog track now.

Roy gently shushes him as a bump in the road jostles everyone on board, earning a pained whine from the ill man. “It's okay, Jamie,” Roy tells him. “Nearly there, then we can go home and get you in bed.”

And it's like a knife in Roy's heart that Jamie is too tired and sick to make a snippy comeback or stupid innuendo. Like all the humor and joy was being drained from the player. And Roy hated it. As much as he acted annoyed or put out by Jamie, he fucking adored him. Wouldn't change the man Jamie had grown into for the fucking world.

On the contrary, he'd fucking fight anyone that doubted Jamie. Because Roy Kent was fucking gone on Jamie Tartt. The arrogant prick stole his heart at some point, and Roy hadn't even fucking noticed. His sister and Keeley were never going to let him live this down. And he'd endure it as long as Jamie was okay.

Jamie worried as he watched how Roy had to grip the seats as they exited the bus. Roy is slower than usual. Jamie might be sick, but he knew Roy. He could identify Roy while blindfolded by footsteps alone. The slight limp and the way Roy leans heavily on the railing with each step down makes Jamie’s brows furrow.

“Fucking stop it,” Roy says when his eyes meet Jamie's.

“Your knee-”

“Is fucking fantastic. You going to just fucking stand there or what?”

Keeley's laugh has Jamie looking behind him.

“You two are a sight,” she grins.

“Did you-”

“Course I did, Roy-o,” she smiles. “Let's get you home, babe,” she says to Jamie, and he is too tired and confused to argue. He nearly panics when he notices Will helping Roy along, but Keeley's warm hand pats Jamie’s chest. “He's okay, just a long ride,” Keeley tells him. “Telling either of you not to worry is a waste, but I can tell you, he doesn't regret it. Now, in you go.” She helps him into Roy’s G-Wagon with little argument. He is surprised when Roy gets in the back beside him, and Keeley gets behind the wheel. Roy doesn't often let others drive his car. But then again, this is Keeley.

“Jamie?” The striker's eyes snap up and he meets Keeley’s in the rearview mirror before Keeley looks away to meet Roy’s.

“Hmm?”

“She asked if you were fucking hungry,” Roy tells him, and the worried look on Roy's face has a familiar feeling in Jamie's gut returning.

“I'm knackered more than anything,” Jamie says.

“I get that,” Keeley says. “Be home soon.”

Jamie must fall asleep because the next thing he knows, he's waking up in his own bed, unsure how he got there. He tries to put the pieces together, but he comes up short.

“Good, you're awake.”

“Phoebe?” Jamie asks because Roy Kent’s niece is in the doorway to his bedroom.

“Hang on, I have to tell my mum.”

“Your mum?” Jamie mutters, but she is gone. So Phoebe and her mum were there. Jamie’s tired brain tries to remember what happened to cause this to happen.

“Well, your colour's better,” Roy's sister says as she walks in.

“You're in my house?”

She nearly laughs at his confused look. Phoebe giggles.

“Well, yeah,” Phoebe says like it's the most obvious fact in the universe. “Uncle Roy let us in.”

“Uncle Roy,” Jamie mutters.

“My brother begrudgingly went to training,” the doctor tells him. She uses a stethoscope to check his breathing. Jamie coughs as she does. “Rough,” she tells him. “But better than it was.”

“Uncle Roy said it was something like popcorn popping while rattling a jar of change, and when you pinch a balloon as it deflated.”

Jamie’s laughs turn into a wheezing coughing fit at the odd description. He startles slightly as a funny mask meets his face, but he looks over at the doctor as she turns on a machine.

“Yeah, she asked him, and that's how he explained it,” the amused mother said as she looked at her daughter. “Nebulizer,” she taps the machine. “Help get those lungs to open up faster. Make it easier to breathe.” She goes on to tell him how it works.

“So,” Jamie says despite the mask muffling his speech. “You…have…Babysitting…duty?”

He doesn't miss the worried look on Phoebe's face as he has to break between each word, but her mum just squeezes her knee, where she sits on the side of Jamie's bed. Phoebe's hands were too busy holding Jamie's hand. And that makes Jamie smile behind the mask. He was always happy to see Phoebe. Sure, this was a weird visit, but he was glad she was there. Being sick was awful. But it was easier when you had people that cared around you.

“My brother insisted Phoe was the best nurse for the job.” And the smile the girl gave them did wonders to heal Jamie's heart. She was a ball of sunshine. Jamie was still trying to figure out how they got there when he remembered that Keeley had driven Jamie and Roy to Jamie's flat. Roy must have stayed.

“His knee?” Jamie asks, sure that Roy's sister would know.

“Fine, after he iced it,” she tells him. “Or as fine as it ever is.” She shrugs. “Although if he doesn't start wearing the brace again on bad days, I'm going to kick him in it.”

“That's not very nice, mum,” Phoebe says.

“Neither is your uncle when his knee hurts, so seems fair,” her mum grins. Jamie chuckles. “Medication must be working. We got a laugh that didn't turn into a cough.”

“Yay!” Phoebe cheered, and Jamie smiled. The pair stayed, and Phoebe told him all about the match he had missed. As much as it hurt him to know he had let his team down, the colourful commentary from an 8-year-old made it easier to stomach.

Roy had let himself in with Jamie’s keys and followed his niece’s laugh to find them all in Jamie's room. His sister turned off the nebulizer. And the icy grip around the gaffer's heart eases slightly at the smile on Jamie's face as the mask was set aside.

“Uncle Roy's here!” Phoebe announced.

“How's the best medical team doing?” Roy asks.

“Great!” Phoebe grins.

“And the patient?” Roy adds. And Jamie is stunned at the strange dichotomy on the gaffer's face. He looks exhausted. He has bags under his eyes. At the same time, there is a spark in his eyes. A smile on his face as he leans against the door frame. And Jamie feels butterflies when Roy looks at him. It's not the first time he's felt it. He's always craved Roy's attention. Even when they were both playing for Richmond, Jamie would go out of his way to antagonize his captain. Getting to see Roy content with his family was something Jamie always considered special.

“Much better,” Phoebe answers. “He managed to laugh without coughing.”

“Oh really?” Roy asks with amusement.

“He had the nebulizer on at the time, but it means we're on the right track,” Roy's sister tells him. “That and his fever finally broke.”

Jamie hadn't even realized that he didn't feel feverish anymore.

“That's great,” Roy says. The gaffer feels himself relaxed. Jamie was getting better.

Roy watches as his sister gets up from the chair beside Jamie's bed. She reaches a hand out to Phoebe. “Come on, Phoe, soup-making time,” she says. Phoebe gives both Jamie and Roy a hug as she leaves. Roy can't help but grin at the dopey smile on Jamie's face.

“Wait, soup making? Do I even have the stuff for that?” Jamie asks, and Roy gets a bit uneasy again.

“You do now,” Roy says as he moves to take the seat his sister had been in.

“Since when?”

And Roy gives him an odd look.

“Since yesterday.”

“Did Keeley get them before we got back?”

“No,” Roy answers. “Jamie, you've been in and out of it for a couple of days since we got back.”

“What?” And he remembers that Roy's sister had said Roy was at training. They usually had the day off after long travel away matches like that.

“A couple days?”

“You okay?” Roy asks as Jamie coughs.

Jamie winces. He felt terrible thinking about how many nights of sleep he had ruined for Roy.

“You should go home,” Jamie says when he can finally speak again.

“Already here,” Roy states.

“I know, but…” Jamie starts. “You need sleep.”

“And you need to recover, so here we fucking are,” Roy tells him.

“I know, but-”

“I can fucking assure you that I will not sleep better in my own fucking bed. Probably worse because no one is here to look after your dumb arse.”

“But my fever broke, and I'm feeling-”

“You just had a coughing fit,” Roy says with a glare.

“But I didn't throw up or pass out, so I’m-”

“Fucking hell,” Roy says, rubbing at his tired eyes. “Fuck it.” A stunned Jamie watches as Roy climbs into bed beside him. “Now will you shut the fuck up and sleep.”

Jamie woke up feeling warmer than he had in a long time. He felt better too. His lungs still felt like crappy, but he didn't care as much.

#tw: illness #tw: pneumonia #tw: fever #tw: coughing #tw: vomiting #tw: panic #tw: fear #tw: sleep depravation #tw: swearing #tw: cussing #tw: cursing #royjamie #jamie x roy #roy x jamie #roy kent #jamie tartt #prompt fill #ted lasso fic #keeley jones

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crisiscutie · 1 year

Text

fear.

My first attempt at a drabble/short fic, a NSFW one at that. Definitely not perfect, but I hope you guys will enjoy it.

Summary: You’ve broken the thin ice you treaded on. What will Sephiroth do this time?

Word Count: 422

Pairing: Darling/7R Sephiroth. Darling is AFAB.

Content Warnings: nsfw, non-con/implied non-con (depends on your interpretation really), psychological/emotional abuse, fear play, some physical abuse.

You were firmly fixed to your spot, like the earth itself, as Sephiroth strolled towards you. You should run, you should fight, you should SCREAM. But nevertheless, nothing was done. Doe-eyed, you peered at him. His lips curved into a vast, sadistic grin as he pinned you to the floor. Your eyes ventured everywhere, anywhere, safe for your gaze to linger on. Anywhere but him. But you couldn’t ignore the silver tresses draped over your face, nor the animosity and lust in his blue, serpentine eyes. They commanded your focus to them, no matter what you felt. You regretted standing your ground. This could’ve been avoided. No, you just had to defy him. Your pupils widened when his large, gloved palm came into sight. It’s larger than your entire neck. Is this some sort of threat, you wondered?

With an eerie gentleness, he enveloped his gloved palm around your neck, his thumb positioned dead center as he caressed the delicate, smooth muscle. Despite your immense dread, your sex quivered with each stroke of his thumb. You recognize this is not just a threat, but a guarantee of what’s in store with your persistent resistance. His other hand brushed your face, his eyes glowed with... a peculiar fondness? He’s always been so difficult to understand. You could never prepare yourself for his erratic behavior. He edged his hand down your figure afterward, taking special care to stimulate and tug your sensitive nipples. Your clit hardened by the second from the agonizing tease.

It was hard enough to not whimper under his touch, but when he finally reached for your sex, you let out a quiet mewl. As he traced his fingers around your wetness, you felt his hold on your neck slowly tighten. He wasn’t choking you, yet. How long will you sustain this act? Maybe you should’ve answered to his demands earlier. Your cunt became increasingly wet as he traced your slit. The mind and body couldn't agree on what you wanted. Your body should be revulsed from his touch, but it craved more from him. Perhaps this is what you desired?

You grimaced. The rigidness in your body loosened as his assault continued. This may be another of his ploys, designed for you to yield... Your lips uttered a faint moan as he halted the tracing of your slit. His index finger and thumb held your clit in place as he leaned into your ear.

“Let me hear you wail.”

After those few words, you yielded. You finally learned your place.

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mtfjohnscp · 8 months

Text

(John ran through the site, dashing from corridor to corridor, rushing to make his way to heavy containment. He needed to make sure that everyone was okay. That no one was hurt. He charged past guards and scientists who were running for their lives.)

Gotta keep moving.

(He pushed himself deeper into the site. He'd grown stronger. Faster. He could handle nearly anything that the site could throw at him.)

Almost there...

(He turned the corner, and...he froze. Every single drop of bravery rushed out of him like the blood from a burst artery. His heart nearly stopped as he found himself unable to move. His mind shot back to his childhood. His uncle's basement. The thing contained within. He couldn't move. He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. Nothing was left in his mind. Nothing but deep-seated primal fear.)

...

(And then...It looked at him. His mind began to scream. He couldn't move. He wanted to run, but he just couldn't. Gradually, the beast turned to fully face him. It was a massive black void of tendrils and death, with but two pin-pricks of light buried deep within its nightmarish form. It started to move. John's heart beat faster. He wanted to believe this wasn't real. It couldn't be real. This was some kind of nightmare. It couldn't be here. And then....It spoke.)

H̥͉̱̜̦̱͛ͬ̇̄̊̚͝͠ẽ̡̪̼̑ͪ̈́̆̑̉͋̚͟l̗͙̥̖̐̾͟l̨͍̳̬ͧ̈́͐ͭ̈͆ͩ̆͌o̖̠̣͔̝̞̔ͬ̉͂̂ͩ͂͡͡,̴̹̙̯̣̤ͦ͆̋̌ ̘̭͚̖̲̭̋̐ͮ̐ͭ͆̌J͍̩͓̲̗͎͕̫ͭ͊o̥̱͙̜̱͓ͨ̍ͭͤͫ̌̂̄͡ḩ̲̜͎͈͍̩̗͛ͮṇ̨̤͉̬̠͍̠̿ͥ̉́̅͜͠ͅͅȁ̛͈̀̇̾ͭ̒ͯ̓̎t̴̶̞̺̻ͤ̒ͩ́̾ͨ͊ͭͯh̴͎͎͔̰͇͊̏ͭͨ̐͟a͉͈̲̿̇̽͒̉ͬ̇ͯ͟ͅṅ͋͟͏̖̞͚͔̘̪͙̖̳.̹̻͓͖̓̑͗͊̾̽ͪͫ͌ ̨̨̡̩̲ͫ͗ͫ͌ͨH̸̡͍̣̬̗ͥǫ̰̙̥̱̮͖͇ͣ̌w̨̥̪̮̤̮̥͍͓̌̀̋̓̇̽̈̅ ̡͈̻̘̹̝ͥ̀͒͠͠h͔̥̎ͬ̊̀ả̸̮̑̀v̡̯̲͔͍̪͂́͆̽́͛̏ͭ́e̶̟ͣ͝ ̭̿̓̂̓́ͅỹ̢̮̞͙̻̮̗͕̼̂̆ͅȏ̝̮ͭͪ̆͊̽̈̀ͅu̴̡̫̲̫ͣͨͯ̽ͭͬ͜ ̛̭͗̾̏̇͐̐͛ͅb̨͕̈̐̿̅̄ͨ̓́͠ę̸͕̟̰̖͈̲̬͋̿ͥͪͭ̔̅ͅe̋ͦ̚͜͏̦̜n̮̭͍͚̯ͩ̄̾̍̐̽̚̚͟ ̸͚͍̲̞̝͈͚̏̓̑̂̄̅́h̼͒͋̿͐̉͞ọ̴̡͉͆͐ͮ͒̃͆̎l̛̘̩̥͚̦̦̺͚͌ḑ̗̻̟̘͛̆͊͛̑ͫͣ̈́i̷͈͙̱̹̮̼̟͎̍̌̈n̷̛̍̄̎͒ͫ̅̽҉̳̻̻̯̝ͅg̵̗̺̭͍̲̊̋̒͡ ̞̬͕̫̫͇̫̼̙̈́ͣ̄͗͛̉̚̚̕ư͎̲̫̹͈̤̪̮̾́̓̾̇͢p̧͖̫̰̖̥͖̊͋ͦ̽͛̏̄͟͡?̮̪͖̼͍͔̝̞̂ͣ̈̎̌̃ͤ

(Its words scraped against his ears, carving themselves into his mind. They hurt. They physically hurt to listen to. Why did it know his name? Why did it sound...so...familiar... John's heart began beating so hard in his chest it felt like it might explode. This was far worse than any nightmare he ever could have come up with.)

A͍͚̱̺̥͇̞̫̜ͧͧͤ́̚͘sͧ͐̃ͨ̑̒̈́̚͏̩̜̯̖̀ ̹͕̭̰͈̙̗͌͗͞ỳ̵̶͔̞ͦo͕̩̺ͬũ̱͙̹͍͢͞ ̷̧̻͈͍̥͉͍͇̣̭̿͆ͬ̾̎c̵̣̜̗̤̔́̾ͥa̧̺͉͇͇̅ͧͯ̾͆ͪ͒n̗̿̒͛̾͂̀͜ ̊̓̑͏̴̥͙͉̤̠̠̰͢s̸̹̖͙̱̻̫̜̍̊ͫ͐ͧ̓eͩ̊̓̓ͯ́͛͡͏͉̰ẹ̸͚̾̅ͫ̂̋̉̓,̈̎̾ͭ̓ͪ͊͐҉̻̳͙̫̫̰̹̭ ̢͔̩̖̗̋̿̈́̿̊͊̋́I̻͕͔̺̼̲̖̪̍̄̿͌ͬ̀̀͜'͙̳̹̯̒̆͢ͅv͕͓̣͙̠̳͙͋̉̑̂̉͊͗̆͡ͅe͔͇̖̳͔̳̓ͭ́ ̴̛͚̦̅̉͗̎̔ͫ͜bͦ̅͗͆ͮ͏̹̟̝̞ȇͩͨͣ̐̅ͩ͠҉̳̭ę̷͚͉̙̘̲͈͉̣̌̀͐̓n̸̞͉͕͐ͩ ̶̬͎̹͉͔̓͂͐ͨ͆͡b̷͚ͨ̂̎̂͋ͭͨ͘e̞͖ͯ̇̍̀̔t̗̥̝̻͔̫̥ͫͯ̊t̵̶̛͖̠̻̬͎̪͗̋̑̓͊e͓̱͉̔̎̎͂̓͂rͣͨ̈́́͋͏̖͖.̵̢̧̩̯̜̻͆̾͊ͪ̏ ̴̶̨̯̱̰̓͒͌̇Ņ͍͚̜̗̻̝̺̆̇̿͊ͮo̦͈̙̜͚͋̔̐̐ ̨̺̞̖̒ͫ̔̒ͧ̆̃ͧt͍̫̘̟̼͕̪͈ͦ͂͌ͬ̿̐ͤ͜ẖ̛͇̝̈́̍̾a̴̘̫̭̜̮ͯ̑̄ͮņ͍̱̭͍̲͍͕̦͕̇ͭ̽̆̅ͩ̄̕͡k͇̹͕̳̱͙ͩͯ̐́ͩ̌̈ͭ͘s̯̙̬̰̪̊̎͂̀͢ ̧͓͉̹͖̹̫͚ͥͥ̍͊t̢̻̱̥̣̦̱͇͂̋͋̓̚ͅo̦̹̲ͫͦ́͢ ͔̝͎̣͉̠̞̏̄̐ͬ̀́͜Y̸̡̜̜̪̥͎͇̫̘̠̗̫͖̱̗̮̘̞̟̭͉͂̎́̃̉̍̚͘͜O̷͓͚͕̣̭̲̯̫̳̟͚̲̲̎́͆̍̋̓̃́̃́͆̔͂͆͌̚̕͝Ú̵̜͚̤̦̦́͗͠.̡̘͔̗̩̖̠ͨ̅͆ͭ̄ͯͩͅ Y-You can't be here.

Ǫ̛͈̼͓̯͗ͨͧͫ̾ͥͨ̍̚h̨ͩͭ̔ͩ̋͊͏̹̬͙̖̮̮̤̰,̧͎̥̲̗̖ͤͫ̄́̚͟ ̖͉͍̋ͯ̇̓ͯ͐Î͆ͯ̅ͥ̓ͤ̋̓̕͏͕̣̖̹ ̱̞̦̓̈́̑̀c̪̭̺̣̟̾ͦ̆̅̕a̸̺̬̞̦̦̗ͫ̐̚͟ͅn̲͖͔̩̪͑̋̆'̴̸͔̤͈͔͖̝̿ͩ̔t̷͖͔̤̫̞̞͎̼ͦͬ͗ͣ̓ͭ͝ͅ?̷̫̦̫̥͚̪͖̤̋̐̏ ̢̩̼̭̺̗̩͈͎ͪ̐ͮ͛̔͢Â̏̀̃͋́̽́҉҉͙͕̲̭̞ͅn̛̫̱̺̤̯͔͇͌͑͠͞dͫ̾̋ͣ͋͒̈́̚҉̪̻͉̪̭̖̘͖́ ̛͎̹̰̖̭͍̖͈ͬ̄ͬͤͥͭ̀w͂͑ͮͪ̆̾͏҉̗͎̞͙hͧ͒̒ͭͫ̑͗͌҉͏̦̹̱̪̯͖̬y͔ͪͬ̾ͮ̐ͬͯͤ ̻̻͙̫̼̖͉ͩ̄̑̏̌ͅm͚̪͇̙͎̳͕ͩ͂͊͞ͅi̷̴̯̘͔̼̜̪ͨͭ̐ͮ̄̅̚g̙͓̝̃̽h̹̞̼͓̮̤̼ͦ̊̆̇̽͂̈t̹̤̭͎̱̉ͮ͛̒ ̽͑̀͆͑̅̋̆͏̥̣̺͚̟t̜̽ͪ̋͒ͤ̐͜h̸̴̗̘̼̪͚̐͛͆͝a̸͈̳̝̖̫͈͈͆̊̎͆ͭt̛̝̦̤ͣ̄͗͆̓͢͠ ̸̮̘̤̔̆̔͡b̝̞̣̯̲͆̂ͮ̃̃͂̚̕͢e̷̟̠̱̦̺̜̰͆̓ͮ͆̀̃̓̉,̶̭͖̼̖͖̩̩̰́̄̇̕ ̣̦ͣ̄̽̃̀͠J̴̆ͩ̐̈́ͩ̽ͦ͏͎̮ô̺͎͎̩̬̟̑̿͊ͣ͗ͮ̑͐́h̊ͦͨ̔̓͋̀҉̫̙̪̦̺͚n̿ͪͥ͂҉̡̩̫͇͡á̰̰͈ͬͦ̄̆̊͊t̷͎̭͓̜̪̹͖̘̰̀͒̓̓ͩ̈͑h̸͚͓̼̱̪̰̭͕͓̏ͮ͒͐͛͒a̢̮̮ͦ̈͘͟n̩̣̠̼͚̝̩̊̂́ͭ̌̔ͅ?͇̱̘̰̹̞̓̑ͣ͡

B-because-

B̨̞̻̤̣̲̈́͐͡ę̵̨͎̹̳̰̀̀́̋̄̈̌̿̔ċ̷̞̜͂͑͊̋͆̽̈̿a̯̬̿ͥ̄ͭ̔̓ű̘̮̖̗̹͈̾ͣͦ͋̃̅͜͞s̑ͪ͋͐̐͏͎̥̲̝̖̜͍͚ë̷̯͚̗̦̙͇̭̺̫́̄ ̷̨̢̮͔͔̳̩̂̋ͥ̅̒w̩ͪͭ͊̇ͥ͐̀͡ȟ̡̜̬̓͜͡ǎ̟̼͈̳͕͇ͨ̽̔̈́̓̂̑t̜̩̠͕̫̯̤̃̀̓?̖͈̘̙͔͍̱ͤ͋̈́͝ͅ

B̙͌̀͒ͪ̇ͧẸ̥̲͍͙͉ͩ̓̓͂̂͘C̸͂̓̈́͋͟҉̰̘̟̠̙̜̦͈A͗̈́͌ͧͪ̚͏͖̫̩̥͓̥̕U̴̮͇̽͂ͭ̓͒̈́̈́͠͠S̬̠͉̹̠͛̅͋̍̉̇ͦ͋͡Ę͖̜̮͉̞̗͓̫̌̀̇ ̬͇̹̀Y̴̧̟͉̠͙͕̖͙̦ͦ̃̾ͬ̿͝Ǫ̥͌͐ͪU̺̜ͩ̂̓̾ͥ͑̇ ̸̙̖̮̇̍̄͗K͕̥͖ͯ̓̓̓̐͘Ï̷̱̉̂͟͡ͅĻ̙̝̀̌͒̓́̉̔̍̚L͚̗̥̞ͤͦ͛̔̑̈́ͩ̀́Ęͪ̅͏̳̙͉̺̩̭D̸̟̙ͩ ̣̌ͩ́ͩ͒͛̓̿̚͟͝ͅM͕̙̓̊̑̅̎̓̕Ė̶͍̻ͫ̓͑̊?̞̰͍̲̏͑́̂ͣ̀̋͡͝!̵̨̫͓͕̰͈̌ͦ́

(The creature roared, and John finally snapped out of his fearful daze. He ran. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him.)

T̳͉̤̰̼͒̃̅H̴̱͎̞̞͖ͦͩ̄͆ͭ͒̒ͧ͠ͅḮ̴͎͙̣̰̼̮͔͚̗ͤ̏̋ͧ̀͝S͑̈͆ͣ҉̹͙̣̲ ̉̾ͮ͌͏̴͖̟̤̫̭͖͇Tͬ҉͙̠̜̰̤̤̝͓̱͡I̴̍͗ͦ̄͆̉̌̽̆͏̛̘̩̗̖M̺̪͉̽ͪͅE̸̩͇͈̜̪͈͑ͩ,̸̇ͪ̇̇ͩ̽ͪ̎͐͞҉̗͕̺̲̙̣̫ ̨̘͈̺̬͈̜͓̉T̓ͮ̓̐͟͏̷͈͇͕̰̥̼H͑ͨ͂̾̆͏̲̠͙O̸̖͖͉̔͋ͩ̉̽̌Ș̢̲͇̥̻̗̮͛ͮͩ͂͛̈ͭ̕Ẹ̹͇͙̥̉̌ͭ͡ ̹̞̜͖̭͗̀̿ͣͫ͢ͅͅF̶̶͉͉̖͚̳͉͓͎̽̍ͨ̂͡O͛ͩ̊͂ͥ͂̋͏̟͓̭͓̻͚̥͙̀U̢͈̱͍̠̱̞̳̲͛̄̆ͣ͢N̴͙̗͈ͭ̅D̛̜̪͕̖͕̄̈ͩ̀͗̚A̶̶͈̪͎ͧ̀ͤ̏ͨ͛͘T̨͔̱̺̥̟̯̪̐ͥ͢İ̫̝̼͎͚̐̌̔̌̍͞Ő̪̹͆̐́͟͝N̴̨͉̜̓̏ͥ͆͋̐̆̕ ̡̢͔͍̥͓̌͂͗D̛̘̘͑͗͐̐ͤ̿͟O̸̗̜͔̩ͯ̿̈̔̇̎̀͢G͓͕̯̰̾̉̕͡S̟̬̙͈̠̳̙̻̠̔̑̄ͣ͢ ̊ͭͤͯͫ̔̋̊ͧ͡҉̺A̿͆̏͋̎҉̤͚̰̩̜̼͟R͕͓̥̜̥̬̖̽̄̐E͔̝͈͙̖̜̾̐ͨ͌̑ͦ̋̈́̆́͟ͅN̷͈̦͓̺̞̣ͨ̏͂ͨ͒'̝͔̟̮͎̙̾̒̊̉͒T̗̞̈́́͝ ͙͋̓̓G̮̥̪͇̘̣̻̙̏̽͂̃̊̾Ö̲͙̞͈̥͕͕̆͛̃̇̎̚͟͠I̛̞͙͐̊̂̋̚N̺͖̹͕͇͕͍̗̣̔̏̑̈G͉̒̄͜͢͢ ͬͪ͋͐҉̷͖Ṱ̸͔̮̍ͤͯͬͪͬ̂ͥͪO̷͉͉͌ͩ̓͌ͯ͜ ̵̜̰͆͋S̜̟̮̲͕̙̜̝̙ͭͯ̇͡A̷̞̤͙̺̙͗͆ͥ͜V̧̮͍̹͌̄̕͢Ē̸̵̱̯ͩ̈́ͮ̕ ̾ͥͫ̋̇̑͒ͦ҉̤͚͎̮͇͎̼̥Ŷ̸̢̞͙̙͌ͫ̋ͬ̿́͒̏O̴̹ͦ̈́U̢ͫ̋ͭ͐͞͏̝̪̙̜ͅ!̵̹̩̖̲̹͇͋̍̿͐ͯ̚

#john.txt #tw: fear

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wolfslvt · 5 months

Text

i need to fuck a sub that’s feral. someone who bites my hand when i try to touch them. a violent creature that wants to tear my throat out. a sub that needs to be fucked stupid, drooling into the dirt while i split them open on my dick until they’re tamed. ill have to pin them down and sink my teeth into the nape of their neck to make them stop growling at me.

#queer ns/fw #tw: rough smex #tw: fear #queer bd/sm #wlw nsft #mlnb nsft #wlnb ns/fw

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ashensgrotto · 2 months

Text

Monophobia

I've been struggling with writing a bit lately and I think it's because I'm stuck at the moment.

I get moments like these when I'm not completely at my best and a lot of internal fears, sadness, and anxiety rebuild itself within my mind and I start wondering if where I'm going is where I want to be or asking myself a lot of 'are you sure?' questions. I sometimes end up doubting myself, too, in the process.

But, I did want to write something since I've been quiet for a while, so I wrote kind of a short poem/story thing about the internal works of my brain - to give you an idea what it's like inside my head.

Don't know if anyone will read this but... eh, why not?

Also: Autophobia, also called monophobia, isolophobia, or eremophobia, is the specific phobia or a morbid fear or dread of oneself or of being alone, isolated, abandoned, and ignored. This specific phobia is associated with the idea of being alone, often causing severe anxiety.

******

There are days when I am surrounded by clouds of fear; fear of hatred, fear of regret… fear of abandonment.

It’s on these days that I often peer out of my darkness and see the world as something that I cannot touch.

I see families and friends, connections made by smiles and laughter, grief and pain… love and hope.

I fear that if I were to take a step out of my confinement, I would instantly have backs turned toward me.

Those words of my past - ugly, crazy, disgusting, weird - would all come back and leave scars on my already battered heart.

I fear I cannot love nor be loved, I fear that I will never be accepted… that I will forever be alone.

That I must walk this life alone.

So I leave my words outside my hiding place, stories of lives I wish I could live… in the hopes that maybe someone would knock on my door.

If I were braver, I would take the first step. If I was stronger, I would have protected myself… If I was smarter, perhaps I would be more than what I currently am.

But for now… I’ll continue to hide in the shadows, protecting what little of my heart remains… writing the lives I wish I could live, and listening for that first knock on my door.

Maybe someday… I will feel like I belong.

#grotto business #tw: fear #monophobia #short story #short poem #tw: self deprecation #personal thoughts

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anon911andbuddie · 1 year

Note

Hi I was wondering if you where still taking prompts if so I had an idea for a Eddie and Buck one where it’s after the lawsuit and Bucky is back working but everyone is avoiding him and when they get a call they leave him behind to clean. All the stress gets to him and one day while everyone is out on a call Bucky had another embolism. He calls 9-1-1 and another house saves him and the 118 comes back to blood on the floor and two fire fighters waiting to tell them what happened.

This one is long overdue. It has been started in my drafts for a long time. And I finally got to finish it. Hope you guys enjoy it.

-Scarlet 📕

Content warnings: Blood, coughing, struggling to breathe, panic, fear, passing out, intubation, pulmonary embolism, ambulances, hospitals, pain, guilt, anger.

Away Team

Buck looked around the empty station and felt the pain in his chest get worse. The call had the full crew out. As the pain persisted Buck realized it wasn't the usual ache that came with working these days. No, this was a different but familiar pain. It hurt, and he felt a cough in his throat, even deep in his chest. He reached up to where his radio should be and remembered he didn't have his radio on him. Why would he? It was just another way for them to yell at him. So he grabbed his phone, and as stupid as it made him feel, he dialed 911. Coughing as he did. He did his best to explain between choking coughs and gasping breaths. He somehow managed to get his location out as he dropped to his knees in the vacant truck bay. He looked down and frowned. He'd just cleaned that floor, and now it had blood on it. Bobby was going to be so pissed. Buck could hear the dispatcher's voice through his speaker, but he was no longer able to understand her. He blacked out.

His consciousness returned with a sudden jolt. The coughing made his chest burn, and something was in his throat. It all hurt. A firm hand stopped him from pulling at the tube in his throat.

"Easy, Buckley," an unfamiliar voice told him. "You're having a hard enough time already. No need to make it worse." How did they know his name? Where was he? Buck looked around and realized he was in an ambulance. He looked up to see a paramedic he didn't really know. The confusion must have been clear on his face because the paramedic sighed but smiled.

"You called 911, do you remember?" He thought about it, and he remembered what had happened. He nodded as much as he could.

"Okay, that's good," the paramedic smiled. "I'm Mel. I work with the 122."

Buck nodded again in acknowledgment.

"I have to ask, Buckley," Mel said. "Dispatch said you told her it was an embolism. You have one before?"

Buck nodded.

"You on blood thinners?"

He nodded again.

"You take your meds today?"

Buck tried to remember if he did. He half shrugged, an action that didn't help his sore and exhausted body.

"Okay," Mel nodded as she began to check his vitals again. "That is honestly more than I figured I'd get with the tube in. Just relax now, Buckley. We'll be at the hospital soon."

"You seeing this, Bobby?" Chim asked as they neared the station and saw a fire engine that didn't belong to their house in front of the bay's open doors.

"Yeah," Bobby said as he eyes the truck as they got closer.

"What the hell is the 122 doing here?" Eddie asked as they pulled in beside the engine.

"Let's find out," Bobby said as he got out and approached the pair of firefighters that were blocking them from pulling into the station.

"Captain Nash?" One of the men asked.

"That's me," Bobby looked between the men.

"Is that blood?" Eddie asked as he joined them. He looked around the empty bay. "Wait, where's-"

"Buckley will hopefully be at Good Samaritan by now," the second firefighter said.

"What happened?" Bobby asked, his heart rate picking up as he took it all in. There were discarded gloves and blood on the floor.

"We were going to ask you the same thing," the first said.

"Who are you?" Chim asked.

"Morris and Jameson from the 122." The one named Jameson said.

"What happened to Buck?" Bobby asked.

"He called 911," Morris said bluntly. "Never had a call to another station before. Our captain said it never really happens.

"Why? Is he alright?" Eddie asked.

"He was coughing up blood," Jameson answered, gesturing to the spots on the floor. “Heard something about an embolism.”

"That can't be right," Eddie said. "He is on blood thinners."

Morris eyed Eddie skeptically. "Diaz, is it? That's why we're here to talk to Captain Nash. Our captain has a few concerns."

"Where is your captain?" Chim asked.

"He decided it best to go with Buckley," Jameson told him. “Said the guy sued the department once already and that he wanted to make sure he didn't have any reason to do it again. Best care and all that."

"He dropped the suit," Hen said.

Jameson shrugged. "They said that, but we're still confused on how an embolism risk is not only on duty but alone. That seems a bit-"

"He isn't working calls. That is why he was here," Bobby said. "A sort of light duty."

"So you're a man down on calls?"

"For now," Bobby said.

"Riiight," Morris said. "Might be for a lot longer now."

"So he had another embolism?" Bobby tried to get the conversation back to how Buck is now.

"It was what dispatch said he managed to say," Jameson answered. "She wasn't sure because sounded like the guy was coughing up a lung, and from how we found him, I believe it. The guy was collapsed on the ground struggling to breathe and coughing up blood. So seemed right to the medics. They got a tube in, we loaded him up and got him out of here."

"Oh, Buckaroo," Hen said as she shook her head. She reached over and gave Eddie's shoulder a squeeze. He'd gone quiet and a bit pale as they listened to them talk.

"But honestly, we're a bit confused because Deluca used to talk about how close you guys are, but your own guy had to call for us? How does that even happen?"

"It is a long story," Bobby sighed.

"We got until the boss calls us out, and I'm sure the chief will want to hear." With that, Bobby took the two firefighters to his office.

"You okay?" Hen asked Eddie.

"He is on the blood thinners. How could this happen?" Eddie asked, his eyes glued to the blood splatters on the ground.

"Well, meds can fail," Hen said.

"But they usually don't-"

"He couldn't remember if he took them," they all looked up to see another member of the 122 come through the doors.

"What?" Eddie asked.

"Or at least that was what I could figure out with just yes and no questions in the rig," she said. "He might be on them, but he had to have missed more than just one dose for this to happen." She gestured to the mess on the ground.

"He was awake? Is he okay?" Eddie asked.

"He was conscious and as okay as someone can be with a tube shoved down his throat, though I guess his sister said he'd had a trach before, so I guess he has had worse."

"Maddie is there?" Chim said as he pulled out his phone.

"If that is his sister, then she was on her way last I heard from my captain."

"But is he-"

"As fun as this game of 20 questions is, where are Morris and Jameson?"

"In talking to our captain," Hen said.

"Can you take me to them?" The medic asked.

"Sure, he'll be glad to hear Buck was awake." Hen said as she leads her toward Bobby's office.

Chim pulled his phone from his ear. "Maddie's not answering."

Eddie rubbed at his face and looked down at the blood again. "Why wouldn't he call us?"

"You're seriously asking that?" Chim said, causing Eddie to look up at him.

"What the hell does that mean?" Eddie said.

"I mean, if you haven't noticed, this whole situation is a disaster. I thought that scene at the store was bad, but been more than a bit frosty around here since he came back."

"Don't you put this all on me. That’s-" Eddie said, a sharp edge to his tone.

"I'm not. I just-" Chimney started.

"This is on all of us," Bobby said as he approached them. "But mostly me. I should have been keeping a closer eye on him." They all watched as the 122 went back to their vehicles and left.

"Can we go see him?" Eddie asked.

"After we get this place cleaned up."

Buck woke up to the sound of harsh whispers.

"No, this is all your fault. You had one job, to keep your team safe, including my brother. You don't get to pick and choose who on your team you care about. You are their captain, his captain-"

"Mads," Buck managed to call out. His voice sounded off to his own ears, and his throat felt like someone sandpapered it. But at least the tube was out.

"Hey, take it easy. Your vocal cords took a bit of a beating," Maddie said as she rushed back to his side and held up a styrofoam cup with a straw. He took a drink, and it helped soothe his throat a bit, but not much. He looked up at the door and saw Bobby standing in it. Buck forced himself not to flinch but must have failed when he felt his sister squeeze his hand.

"This is what I didn't want to happen," Maddie glared at Bobby. "You-"

"I know this is my fault," Bobby said. "I know I failed Buck. I figured he'd be fine at the station, that he-"

"He is sitting right here," Buck grumbled.

"I know, and I am so sorry Buck," Bobby said. "This should never have happened I-"

"If the 122 hadn't read you the riot act, would you even be here?" Maddie asked.

"Of course, he is still a part of the team, still one of us." Bobby nodded.

"Got a funny way of showing it," Maddie huffed.

"Maddie," Buck cautioned.

"No, Evan," Maddie held his hand between hers. "They treated you terribly. You dropped the suit and did everything they asked, and they still let this happen."

"They didn't make me miss my meds," Buck admitted.

"About that, Buck, when did you stop taking them?" Bobby asked.

"I didn't intentionally do it. I just ran out and couldn't get to the pharmacy because I had to work."

"You should have told me. I would have-" Bobby started to say.

"Don't," Maddie cut him off. "Do not make him feel bad about this. You assigned his shifts. You assigned him every chore in the book. He could have died, and you guys would have come back and found him dead in the station. The one you are supposed to be in command of."

"I know, and that is something I have to live with,” the captain admitted, “Knowing how close we were to losing Buck, and it was absolutely preventable. If we had just paid more attention."

"Damn right you should have," Maddie said, glaring at him.

"I know, and you can't possibly know how sorry I am." Bobby turned to look at Buck and took a few steps closer. "If you want to transfer out, I would understand, we all would, and I know nothing can change what we did, but I promise if you come back things will be better."

"Why would I transfer? What house would want the guy that sued his boss and the department?" Buck said, his face reflecting his depressive state.

"Well, the 122 was quick to call us out. One of the old 118 crew had told them about us, and what they saw didn't mesh with that idea, and they had a lot of questions. You made quite an impression on them. I'm sure you could-"

"You promise if I come back that everyone won't hate me, and I will get to do more than grunt work, right?" Buck asked.

"I assure you most of the team has already changed their tune," Bobby said.

"I don't know,” Buck said, his doubts clear in his tone. “Eddie was so pissed before-"

"I'm sure if Eddie was still angry he wouldn't be out in the waiting room,” Bobby informed him, “the others too."

"Unless he came to yell at him some more," Maddie grumbled.

"If his reaction when we got back to the station was anything to go by,” Bobby said to try and assure them, “I doubt he'll do much yelling, but only Eddie can really answer that."

"So you are really sure they don't hate me?" Buck asked.

"We don't hate you, Buckaroo," Hen replied. They all looked up to see Hen, Chim, and Eddie at the door.

"Right," Buck said, not really believing her.

"Buck," Hen started but was stopped by Eddie.

"You might not believe us now, and that's on us," Eddie said as he moved closer to Buck's bed. "And if we have to earn that back, we will.”

Buck looked up at his sister. “Is this really happening? I’m not dead, right?”

“They’re lucky you aren’t dead, or your lawsuit would look trivial compared to the hell I would have raised,” Maddie admitted without hesitation. “And as tempting as doing it anyway seems and as much as I’d love to see these 3 sweat it, I won’t do that to you.” She squeezed her brother’s hand. “You’ve been through enough.”

“I just want to go back to normal,” Buck said.

“Evan…” Maddie started.

“We can’t go back, can’t change what is done,” Bobby admitted. “Believe me. I wish I could. But we can do better going forward.”

“And we will,” Eddie stated.

“All of us,” Hen added.

“Yeah, what they said,” Chim nodded.

Maddie shook her head but asked, “And you’ll make sure he gets back on his feet and stays that way?”

“Of course,” Bobby agreed.

“You swear you’ll actually have his back this time?” Maddie looked at Eddie.

“On my life,” Eddie answered.

“I will hold you to that, Diaz,” Maddie told him.

“Maddie, please, I just-” Buck started.

“I’m not going to be sorry about holding them accountable, Evan. You wouldn’t be here if they did their jobs. I’m not going to stand here and listen to them make empty promises. They don’t get to try and save their own asses just because another crew called them out.”

“We won't make the same mistake again,” Bobby assured her.

“I’ll make sure they don’t.” They turned to see Athena standing in the doorway.

"Good," Maddie says. She did still trust Athena.

"I just want to go back to work," Buck says.

"And you will after you're cleared for duty," Bobby says.

"But they will not be standing in your way this time," Athena says. “Their superiors have assured me.”

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that even I got a call from the fire chief and the captain of the 122. And they will be keeping an eye on things. And so will I."

Buck groans and drops back against the pillows.

"Evan," Maddie says. "It means they are taking this as seriously as it should be. This sort of thing should never have happened." She glares at her brother's team. "The chief probably just wants to make sure it doesn't happen again."

"And it won't,” Bobby insists. “We'll take whatever punishments the department sees fit. If that's having to put up with inspections and even an investigation, that's fine. We'll do it."

"Technically, I don't think we broke any written rules," Chim points out. Earning a glare from Maddie. "But it was still wrong," he adds. "Hen and I should have stepped in when you came back."

"We should have been checking in with you on how you were feeling and how the meds were going," Hen adds. "We're the medics on the team. Everyone's well-being is supposed to be even more important to us. And we botched that."

"We never wanted this to happen," Chim says. "No one wants you to suffer."

Buck huffs, but it turns into a cough.

Eddie is at his side before he can even get a breath in.

"Slow breaths, as deep as you can without it hurting," Eddie tells him. He goes to put a hand on Buck's back, but the younger man flinches. And Eddie pulls away like he was burned. Maddie rubs her brother's back instead.

"Thank you for the update, but Evan needs his rest," Maddie says sternly. Shutting down any further conversation. "Athena, you are welcome to stay, but I must ask the rest of you to leave."

"Understandable," Bobby acquiesces. "Let us know when you're feeling better, Buck. Then we can discuss your schedule." Buck nods. Bobby turns to the team. "Let's go." He can tell Eddie wants to fight him in this. "We can discuss this later."

Once back at the station, Eddie stares at the now clean spot that was the only hint that Buck had ever been in trouble.

"Eddie," Bobby starts. "You need to give him time. Maybe we both need to start by telling him why we've been so hard on him. I know you hate seeing him hurting as much as we all do, but Maddie is right. We owe him an explanation. We owe it to him to fix this. To be better. I'm going to go call the chief. We may be in for a tough few weeks, but it's…well, it's deserved. We made this mess. I made this mess. Now it's time to face the consequences." He gave Eddie a pat on the shoulder before heading to his office.

Bobby was right. They needed to fix it. And Eddie had a good idea of where to start. If Buck was still in the hospital in the morning, Eddie was going to bring Christopher to see him. If he was back home, then he and Christopher would bring him breakfast. Either way, starting tomorrow morning, Buck would have Christopher back. It may take Buck longer to let Eddie back in, but this would be a start. A peace offering. Yeah, that was a good plan. But first, he needed to call Carla and endure whatever lecture he was about to get. She has been Buck's friend longer than Eddie was. She would not be happy about what happened, but he was sure she would help him. She would help for Christopher's and Buck’s sake. She cares for them both. Eddie might have to work to get back in her good graces now too, but maybe a few added paid days off might help. Maybe. Either way, he had a plan.

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allaganeyed · 2 months

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As G’raha trekked the unbeaten path, he marveled the burgeoning prunus trees blushing at its boughs. The ashy bark remained disconcerted despite its shuddering, creaking limbs. The swaggering and boisterous cumulonimbus clouds taunted the land with its blistering, early spring winds.

Closer he approached to admire nature’s bounty when the pressure surrounding him seized his muscles. He winced, clenching his teeth in preparation for a violent, hurdling wind to topple his balance. Although, the clouds were vain as they were innocent. A far more nefarious storm brewed at lakeshore. G’raha’s gaze traced source, assuming the life force staled from corrupt touch only to find an irrevocably large being beneath the shy, maturing trees.

“P-Pray forgive my intrusion,” he spoke with a falsified calm tone. G’raha stood unwavering in his stance despite the inborn predatory fear that prickled his skin. He swallowed, shifted his toes in near sudden retreat, but held his ground. He released a careful breath, “A storm is nigh, though the perennials are unfazed. For all their delicate appearance they are without lies, and speak true to their circumstances.” G’raha’s tail lowered and it took all his energy to refuse to tuck it between his legs.

“The living cannot help but tremble in monstrous awe, however.” He wished he spoke of the trees… and he wished he learned to quell his ramblings when nervousness ran rampant.

@bimeval

#bimeval 01 #bimeval #(THROWS YOU A STARTER)#( the storm made me think things hehe )#tw: Storm #tw: fear

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ncafterdark · 6 months

Text

Kinktober 2023

Day 31: Hiro/Ivarr/Dagger--Predator/Prey

*****

If anyone had accused him of being an adrenaline junkie, he’d have a hard time defending himself, no stranger to risky, thrill-seeking. This was a different situation entirely, in which the parameters were only vaguely known, two simple rules. Chase and evade.

It’s not fear that sets his limbs in motion but seeking out a challenge, good for the others as well, as unlikely as they were to admit that.

He doesn’t know where he is, only a vague idea—warehouses with broken windows, not a single person around. The air itself is choking, a sickly orange glow to the sky, harsh taste of chemicals on his tongue. Back against soot-stained brick he wills his breathing to slow, stop the shake in his hands, a knot in his chest. It’s darker here, only the flicker of the occasional streetlight but it’s enough to glance up, see the outline of a skull on the wall, twisted metal limbs bristling from it, red eyes clustered in the center. Ah hell. He’s off-course, and in their territory, not his. As well as he knows the twisting streets of the city, this is a place that even he seldom sticks his nose in. Notoriety could only go so far.

He has to keep moving, willing shaky legs into a jog, keeping to the side-streets. It’s both an advantage and disadvantage—harder to see, but easier to separate. There’s two of them and only one of him, and it should be unfair. But he has the ability of disappearing into the buildings, until he seems like he’s melted into the street itself, not optical cameo but it might as well be. Good at evading the attention of those he doesn’t want to be seen by. The only difference is that he knows he’ll eventually be found, and that it’s what both of them really want. The thrill is in the chase itself, as much as their reward at the end.

He’s gotten arrogant, footsteps slowing to try to get his bearings, and it was the mistake they’d been waiting for, scarcely a second to realize before there’s an arm hooked around his throat, unyielding as steel.

“If I knew better, think you’d given up on purpose.”

The voice is like silk, hiding menace, heartbeat racing, still shaky from the rush. Lips brush his cheek, an appreciative noise as he struggles, a knee slipping between his own. He doesn’t have to see them to know they’re grinning, twin smiles with too many teeth.

It’s a contrast to the roughness of the other man, wolfish glee glinting in pale eyes.

“Guess that makes you the prize.” —

(Ft. @dreamskug's Ivarr, and @wraithsoutlaws's Dagger 🖤🔪)

#cyberpunk ocs #oc: hiro oda #nsft #my writing #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #ship: trouble comes in threes #mutuals ocs: ivarr #mutuals ocs: dagger #tw: power dynamics #tw: fear

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pearlescent-soda · 7 months

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☠️🐲//Elder Dragon Fear Headcanons

These are headcanons that go over what I believe the Elder Dragons biggest fears are without going into much detail. These are based off my previous headcanons about them, their clans, and their professions, and may seem OOC (Out of Character) to many, but it was fun to write nonetheless.

TW: Mentions of Fear, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Violence, etc.

🎨Artisans:

Alban: Nothing

Alvar: Ophidiophobia, Fear of snakes

Argus: Agrizoophobia, Fear of wild animals

Astor: Cardiophobia, Fear of the heart (palpatations, pains, etc.)

Darius: Psellismophobia, Fear of stuttering

Delbin: Dentophobia, Fear of dentists

Devlin: Ataxophobia, Fear of disorder or untidiness

Gavin: Thermophobia, Fear of intolerance to hot temperatures

Gildas: Potophobia, Fear of drinking alcohol

Lindar: Apeirophobia, Fear of infinity, eternity, or the uncountable

Nestor: Asymmetriphobia, Fear of asymmetrical things

Nevin: Rhytiphobia, Fear of getting wrinkles

Nils: Anemophobia, Fear of wind or drafts

Oswin: Chiroptophobia, Fear of bats

Thor: Nothing

Tomas: Phasmophobia, Fear of ghosts

🛡️Peace Keepers:

Andor: Nothing

Asher: Ankylophobia, Fear of immobility of a joint

Boris: Iophobia, Fear of poison

Conan: Gamophobia, Fear of marriage

Enzo: Coulrophobia, Fear of clowns

Gunnar: Scotomaphobia. Fear of blindness, or spots in one's visual field

Halvor: Nothing

Ivor: Iatrophobia, Fear of doctors

Magnus: Kinemortophobia, Fear of zombies

Marco: Enochlophobia, Fear of crowds

Maximos: Ophidiophobia, Fear of snakes

Ragnar: Necrophobia, Fear of death or dead bodies

Titan: Soteriophobia, Fear of depending or becoming dependent on someone else

Todor: Agoraphobia, Fear of open places rather than enclosed

Trondo: Nostophobia, Fear of returning home

Ulric: Gelotophobia, Fear of being laughed at

✨️Magic Crafters:

Ajax: Arachnophobia, Fear of spiders

Altair: Nothing

Boldar: Anatidaephobia, Fear of ducks, geese or swans

Cedric: Scotomaphobia, Fear of blindness

Cosmos: Metathesiophobia, Fear of changes

Cyrus: Nothing

Eldrid: Musophobia, Fear of mice and rats

Hexus: Daemonophobia, Fear of demons

Jarvis: Bibliophobia, Fear or Hatred of books

Kelvin: Harpaxophobia, Fear of being robbed

Lucas: Mazeophobia, Fear of being lost

Zander: Maniaphobia, Fear of insanity

Zane: Teraphobia, Fear of monsters

Zantor: Athazagoraphobia, Fear of being forgotten

🌺Beast Makers:

Bruno: Ecophobia, Fear of cataclysmic environmental change

Bubba: Isolophobia, Fear of solitude

Claude: Antlophobia, Fear of flooding,

Cleetus: Ablutophobia, Fear of bathing

Cyprin: Ptophobia, Fear of falling

Damon: Nothing

Isaak: Claustrophobia, Fear of confined spaces

Jed: Kynophobia, Fear of rabies

Lyle: Belonephobia, Fear of pins and needles

Rosco: Batrachophobia, Fear of amphibians

(Bonus) Red: Thanatophobia, Fear of death

Sadiki: Dystychiphobia, Fear of accidents

Zeke: Nothing

🌌Dream Weavers:

Apara: Claustrophobia, Fear of having no escape and being closed in

Azizi: Ligyrophobia, Fear of loud noises

Bakari: Arachibutyrophobia, Fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of one's mouth

Baruti: Quadraphobia, Fear of the number four

Copano: Bogyphobia, Fear of bogeys or bogeymen

Kasiya: Symmetrophobia, Fear of symmetry

Kosoko: Pediculophobia, Fear of lice

Lateef: Nothing

Lutalo: Scelerophibia, Fear of burglars, robbers, or criminals

Mazi: Nothing

Mudada: Bathophobia, Fear of depth

Obasi: Haphephobia, Fear of touch

Revilo: Pyrophobia, Fear of fire

Unika: Nihilophobia, Fear of nothingness

Useni: Melissophobia, Fear of bees

Zikomo: Astraphobia, Fear of thunder and lightning

Image Sources: [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] Dividers by @baka-tsuki-2

#spyro reignited trilogy #spyro headcanon #Spyro headcanons #elder dragons #Spyro dragons #reignited trilogy #Fears #tw: fear #tw: death #tw: violence #classic spyro #spyro the dragon #spyro the reignited trilogy #elder dragon headcanons #dream weaver #artisans #peace keepers #beast makers #magic crafters

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in-love-with-writing-whump · 10 months

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Prompt:

Team knows Whumpee did not have the best past. They spent their life in a criminal underground, and present day, they don't even know their last name. No one, not even Caretaker, who got them out in exchange for their gifts (whatever they may be) for Team, knows exactly *what* they went through, just that it had led to a cool, stoic attitude.

One day, Whumpee sees Whumper, and is visibly shaken, but because Team doesn't know, and Whumpee won't tell them, they can't figure out what's upset them.

And then, just a couple days later, they go missing, but are able to leave a clue as to where they go- back to the criminal underground. They find out through some investigating that Whumper was someone who enjoyed the thrill of the criminal world and found Whumpee's gifts intriguing. Whumpee had spent years trying to escape them, and succeeded, but in the normal world, Whumper had found them again and wanted them back as their personal toy/weapon/puzzle.

Cue Team, especially Caretaker, who was closest to Whumpee, being horrified by the trauma reveal, and also wanting nothing more than to get revenge on Whumper and save Whumpee.

Bonus points if during the rescue, Whumpee is still reluctant to be vulnerable, even as they lash out defensively against whoever is trying to check for injuries because of the trauma.

#whump prompt #whumpee #tw: trauma #caretaker #tw: injury #tw: revenge #tw: crime #tw: violence #tw: abuse #tw: fear #tw: angst #tw: trauma reveal #tw: traumatized whumpee #whumpee x caretaker #based on a wip im working on #tw: living weapon #stoic whumpee

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sortofanobsession · 15 days

Note

omg I’m so glad you’re alive and I hope you’re feeling better. Can’t wait to read your Ted lasso writing again<3

Author's Note: ask and you shall receive...

Content warning: injury, hospital, surgery, anxiety, fear, cussing (it's Roy so duh) Crying.

Paring: Roy/Jamie

No Show Roy-o

Jamie paced the locker room. The team just watching him.

Everyone's eyes snap to the door when someone starts to open it but they are disappointed when Ted and Beard walk in. The two coaches look at each other and then the team before heading into the office.

"Okay, something is wrong," Ted says as he sets his backpack down.

"Clearly," Beard replies.

Ted watches the team through the window and notices all the attention on Tartt. Well, then he knew where to start.

"What's wrong, Jamie?" Ted asks as he approaches the striker.

"Roy didn't show for training this morning and he isn't here yet."

"Has he ever missed before?"

"The man actually lives to wake me up at 4 am to order me around," Jamie states. "No, he never misses. Not without a text at least."

"Did you call him?"

"I'm not daft," Jamie huffs. "Several times. No answer. Now it goes to voicemail."

"Some of us tried too," Isaac says. "Nothing."

"Keeley hasn't been able to ring him either," Jamie says. "Should I call his sister?"

"You have his sister's number?"

"For emergencies, and Phoebe," Jamie admits.

"Hold on, you have contact with Roy's niece?" Ted asks. "She's what? 8?"

"That's really the important part to you now?" Jamie asks.

"Kinda, odd friendship there," Ted admits.

"She insists I'm Roy's best friend, and Roy says it's for emergencies. She has a very different definition of emergencies, like you said, she's 8."

"Okay, fine," Ted says. He could let that go for now.

"Do you think this counts as an emergency?" Jamie asks.

"Let's see if he is doesn’t show, not just later than normal," Ted says.

But when time comes to head out to the pitch and Roy still isn't there Jamie cracks and texts Roy's sister. She texts him back that she'll check his place. And that gives Jamie some reassurance as he begins training. He gives Ted his phone in case she or Roy calls. Ted initially thought it was silly, but about an hour in she does call. She tells Ted that Roy wasn't there and the fact he isn't answering for her is unusual. Roy would never ignore a call from her or Phoebe. But she also insists that Roy can handle himself. And she'll let them know if she hears anything. And that makes Ted a bit nervous. They were just about to take a break when Phoebe called Jamie. She is crying and Ted actually does call Jamie over for this one. And Jamie, still in his kit, drags Ted inside. Changes only his boots while still on the phone and whispers to Ted to get what he needs.

"Where are we going?" Ted asks but does as Jamie says because something feels very wrong here.

"The fucking hospital," Jamie hisses, not to be mean but more so Phoebe doesn't hear.

"Oh, that's bad, yeah, let's go." Ted nods and follows Jamie’s lead.

"We're on the way Phoebe, just stay there."

Phoebe runs over and hugs Jamie when she sees him.

"Hey, Phoe," Jamie says and despite the fact she is 8 years old, Jamie hauls her up into his arms for a hug. And Ted is almost envious of how easy that seemed for him. But Ted is still very confused. "You remember Coach Ted?" Jamie asks her. She nods as Jamie sets her down.

"Hi Phoebe," Ted says. "Are you okay?" Ted asks.

She shrugs and looks over. Ted sees a doctor he had met before, but she looked out of place in street clothes.

"Hey, Doc." Jamie hugs her. "What happened?"

"Still trying to sort that out," she says.

"You're Roy's sister?" Ted finally asks.

"Oh sorry, yeah, Coach Lasso, Doc. Doc, Coach Lasso."

"Thanks Jamie," Ted says at the less than helpful introduction but Jamie is already being pulled away to the waiting area by Phoebe.

"How much did Jamie tell you?"

"Absolutely nothing," Ted admits.

She shakes her head. "Right, Roy was brought in about a half hour ago. A friend of mine on shift recognized him and called me. They think he was hit by a car but we have no idea."

"Oh wow, I am so sorry, that-" Ted starts to say but she stops him.

"Thank you, he's in surgery now, I assume you will want to let Ms. Welton know. He might be out for a while."

"Yeah, right, good calls must run in the family," he says.

"Something like that," she says before going to check on Phoebe.

She leans in and whispers to Jamie that Roy is in surgery and it's a waiting game now.

Ted calls Rebecca and Beard, then Keeley. Keeley is there in less than twenty minutes.

"Keeley?" Jamie asks when he sees her. She hugs Phoebe and then him.

"Ted called," she says and smacks his arm.

"What was that for?"

"You didn't call me!"

"I was busy with her," Jamie says, gesturing to Phoebe. Thankfully she had her headphones on and was curled up in a chair.

"Fine, that is an acceptable excuse. Here," she hands him a bag. "I ran by Nelson Road and got your stuff. Sam had made sure it was packed up. They're all pretty worried."

"They aren't the only ones," Jamie glances at Phoebe.

"Does Ted know?"

She glances out the window to where Ted was clearly on the phone with Rebecca or Higgins.

"Know what?"

"About you and Roy?" She says.

"Nah, didn't know if I should tell him. We haven't talked about it."

"Well, I think this might genuinely blow your cover."

"Hasn't yet," Jamie says.

"Jamie, I know you. You're managing right now because of Phoebe, but the minute you see him, you-"

"I know," Jamie seems to deflate. "I am trying so hard but-"

"Oh babe," she hugs him and grimaces. "I love you, Jamie but do us all a favor and change. I'll stay with her."

"Yeah, right, okay," Jamie says as he heads to the toilets to change.

"Where's Jamie?" Ted asks when he gets back.

"Changing out of his kit, Ted there is something I need to tell you, the boys might get mad, but Jamie is going to need someone and as much as he tries to hide it he is terrified."

"Okay, lay it on me," Ted says.

"Roy and Jamie have been secretly dating since just after international break."

"Wow," Ted says. "That's…new information." He admits. "Does explain why he has Roy's sister in his phone. And why he was so worried when Roy didn't show up for training."

"They were keeping it a secret because well, for a lot of reasons, but I believe that ship might have sailed based on the fact Jamie didn't even change out of his kit."

"Did change his boots," Ted says.

"Probably not easy to drive in," she says.

"Probably," Ted agrees.

"Please don't make a big deal out of it, Jamie wasn't going to say anything because he wasn't sure if Roy would want him to, but Jamie brought you for a reason. He brought you because he trusts you and Roy trusts you. And I know you won't hold this against them."

"Heck no, I'm glad they have each other, just surprised is all. You think Jamie is just a ticking time bomb in this one?"

"Definitely," Keeley nods. "And I'm not sure what will set him off."

"Thanks for the heads up, I'll keep this between us unless something happens."

"Thank you, Ted."

Keeley heads back to work after they promise to keep her in the loop. Roy's sister comes back a bit later to tell them that Roy was out of surgery but it would be a bit before anyone could see him.

"You should be at training," is the first thing out of Roy Kent's mouth when they walk in. He glares at Jamie.

"Uncle Roy!" Phoebe rushes over and hugs him as best as she can.

"Hi, Phoebe," he says before looking at Jamie.

"You really think I would stay at training after they called me?" Jamie challenges.

"Yes, not much you can do here," Roy says.

"How hard did that car hit you?” Jamie narrows his gaze at him. “Because clearly your brain is rattled, old man."

"How you feeling, Roy?" Ted asks to get the two to quit being so grumpy.

"Like I got hit by a car," Roy states.

"You did," Phoebe sniffles.

"I'm okay, kid," he says. Earning a scoff from Jamie. Roy glares at him. "You should-"

"Oh, Jamie Tartt's not going anywhere," Ted assures him. "Rebecca already knows you'll be out for a while, and sorry boys, but the cats out of the bag on this one."

"You told him," Roy glares at Jamie again.

"I did not," Jamie looks just as shocked.

"Keeley told me," Ted says. "Because she was worried Jamie was handling it too well."

"Of course she was," Jamie complains.

"You did cry, like a lot earlier," Phoebe says.

"Thanks for that, Phoe," Jamie says, his tone less than amused at being called out by a literal child.

"Phoebe, why don't you help me find your mom and call Keeley," Ted says.

She seems to weigh her options.

"And stop by the vending machines," Ted adds.

"Okay," she hugs her uncle again before following Ted out. Roy looks over at Jamie and can tell he really is hanging in by a thread.

"I'm fine," Roy says. And Jamie doesn't even say anything, just crawls in the bed beside Roy. Roy grunts but manages to shift a bit to make them both fit. "Better?" Roy asks once Jamie is practically molded into his side.

"Yes, much," Jamie says and he buried his face in Roy's shoulder.

"Why am I not surprised?" Roy's sister says when she walks in.

"Not my idea," Roy says.

"Not complainin' though, yeah?" Jamie counters.

"Tear his stitches and I'm banning you myself, Tartt," she says.

"Ouch, Doc," Jamie says. "But fair."

She hums as she sets to checking his vitals.

“Pain?” She asks.

He grunts.

“Roy,” she starts but Jamie beats her to it.

“It's either now or you have to admit it when Phoebe gets back,” Jamie says. And whether it is because he's right or that Jamie's so close to losing it Roy knows he needs to answer.

“Fine, 6.”

“Right,” his sister says.

She makes a few notes.

It was quiet again when she left.

“Are you mad?” Jamie asks.

“That I got hit by a fucking car?” Roy counters. That seemed like an obvious question. Of fucking course he was. He could have died. His mind circles back as Jamie shifts.

“That people know,” Jamie corrects. “About us.”

Roy considers it as best he can with painkillers in his system. And he really doesn't fucking care because Jamie is there with him and despite how he was acting before he was glad he was there. It had been terrifying to think he might die when he has people that need him.

“No,” Roy finally answered. “Needed you here, and if that's the fucking cost. Fine.”

“Good, because I think the team knew something was up, but that might have been because I couldn't sit still.”

“When have you ever fucking sat still?” Roy posits.

“This was worse,” Jamie tells him. “I'm sure Will is going to be pissed at the state of my boots. Pacing constantly on a hard surface.”

“Well get you new fucking boots,” Roy assures.

“Least of my worries, love,” Jamie admits, carefully shifting so he can see Roy's face. “Scared the shit out of me when I couldn't- you weren't answering. No one could find you. You never-”

“Fuck,” Roy says because Jamie has tears streaming down his face and he hates when that happens. He hates that it's because of him, even if he had no say in what happened to him. Despite the ache it causes Roy reaches up and brushes as many of those tears away as he can without risking his stitches. “I'm-”

“Don't!” Jamie starts to pull away. The striker knew what he was about to say. Jamie vehemently shakes his head, causing Roy's hand to have to fall back to the bed. “You are not fucking fine, Roy,” Jamie states, and it was clear what little hold Jamie had on his feelings was slipping. “Because I’m not! Phoebe isn’t either. You nearly died! I can't…do you think I want to do any of this shit without you? Because I fucking don't.”

“Not fucking asking you to,” Roy says, and it probably comes out more aggressive than he intended because Jamie was no longer tucked against his side. The footballer was on his feet, having wound himself up to pacing again. And Roy's chest always gets tight when Jamie does that shit. He needs Jamie to be okay. But he knows he probably said that wrong when Jamie glares at him.

“You didn't fucking have to,” Jamie retorts. And that's fair.

“Fucking hell,” Roy grumbles, attempting to sit up so he can better track Jamie's movement.

“Don’t do that,” Jamie grumbles as he moves back to help him. “Hurt yourself and your sister will boot me.”

“Then quit fucking pacing,” Roy tugs at Jamie's arm until he sits on the edge of the bed. Roy sighs, ignoring the ache in his ribs as he does.

“I'm not fucking dying, Tartt. Fucking doctors made sure of it.”

“Barely,” Jamie says.

“But they fucking did, and that's fucking that.”

Jamie scoffs but doesn't bother arguing. He was anxious and still thinking about how much worse things could have been, and how much could still go wrong.

“Look at me, Tartt,” Roy demands. Jamie does. “I know this is a fucking mess, but I will be fucking fine. You know why?” Jamie shrugs. “Because you lot won't stop until I am. You, my sister and Ted fucking Lasso, are all fucking determined. Throw in Keeley and that fucking team. I probably won't get a fucking quiet moment til I'm back at the dog track. So fucking do it.”

“Are you telling me to take care of you?” Jamie asks.

“Going to fucking do it anyway, yeah?”

“Of course,” Jamie nods. “What do you need me to do?”

“You're here, so things are already fucking better,” Roy states. That has warmth spreading through Jamie's chest because Roy has less filter than most, but it would appear he has even less now. And it's oddly sweet.

“Yeah, I'm here,” Jamie says as he shifts to prop his knee up on the bed and takes Roy's hand in his. The fact Roy seems to relax even more has Jamie smiling for what feels like the first time all day. “And you heard the gaffer, I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me.”

“Good, going to need help with the kid,” Roy says. “She is going to be impossible to get rid of.”

“Don't lie Kent, you love every second of it. You love that kid.”

“Not the only fucking one,” Roy states.

“That loves Phoebe? Of course not, she's adorable and-”

Roy squeezes his hand.

“That I love, you fucking muppet. Sometimes I wonder why but fucking hell, Tartt. I fucking love you.”

Jamie grins. “Fucking love you too, you prick.”

Roy tugs him until Jamie lays back down beside him. There is a knock at the door. Jamie goes to get up but Roy doesn't let him.

“Well aren't you two adorable,” Ted says as he and Phoebe come in.

“Fuck off, Lasso,” Roy grunts.

“Uncle Roy,” Phoebe starts.

“I know, kid,” Roy says.

“Your mum probably knows where his wallet is more than he does,” Jamie says.

“Could probably finally cash out that tab I've heard about,” Ted adds.

“Oi, don't give her fucking ideas.”

“That's two,” Ted states.

“Fucking hell,” Roy mutters, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the pillows.

“Three,” Phoebe giggles.

“I got you,” Jamie quietly tells Roy. Jamie grabs his wallet from his locker and tosses it to Phoebe. Phoebe gives him a look. “He's been through it, so I'll take the hit for him.” Jamie grins. Phoebe just shrugs and takes three quid from him.

“Now he owes you,” Phoebe says, setting his wallet on the table by his phone, which he had set aside to focus on Roy when he initially crawled into the bed.

Roy glares at him, but it doesn't bother the striker.

#tw: injury #tw: hospitalization #tw: hospitals #tw: hit by car #tw: crying #tw: cursing #tw: cussing #tw: fear #tw: anxiety #tw: medical procedures #tw: medical emergencies #tw: medical treatment #tw: medication #tw: mentions of death #ted lasso fic #royjamie #jamie x roy #roy x jamie #jamieroy

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splendidissimus · 8 months

Text

1998, Easter Break -- The Slaughter at Malfoy Manor

((A note: The movie had all the Malfoys standing by stonily bearing witness as Voldemort slaughtered the goblins after Gringotts was robbed. The book only had one or two sentences of description from Harry's dream POV of it, but that included Lucius and Bellatrix throwing people behind them to get away. That's much more telling, I think: not only are not even Death Eaters safe from his blind rage, but not even his favourite Death Eater is safe. It paints a much clearer picture of how Voldemort cares nothing for his people and what it's like to be in the power of an unstable psychopath.))

((Content warning: fear, disassociation, murder, blood, gore, Cruciatus torture, abandonment))

Genre: whump

Romance level: minor

Angst level: 4/5

Draco's headspace: terrified

((words: ~3200))

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

When he entered the memory left for him in the Pensieve, Theo appeared in the drawing room of the manor during the day, with the drapes open to show the blooming flowers in front of the fountain. There were four goblins, one with a sword, and half a dozen wizards in Gringotts uniforms, plus a solid number of Death Eaters who were congregated around the doors, almost like they were blocking the Gringotts people in.

When he saw the goblins, he knew what was going to happen — Draco had told him about Voldemort's massacre here. He wasn't in a great rush to see it, but he had been directed to this one for a reason… There was something he was supposed to see. And anyway, curiosity was a pretty defining characteristic of his.

He'd gotten adept at feeling out who a given memory belonged to, and this one was Lucius'. He didn't know why, but he imagined he'd find out.

Bellatrix was acting as the leader of the Death Eaters. There were almost a dozen of them in a rough semicircle around her, backing her up, with all of the Malfoys together to the side nearer the floo, on the edge of the group. Theo was gratified that at least his father wasn't among them. "Do it!" she was ordering Draco. Draco looked away in sullen passivity, not quite rebellion, just resisting for as long as he could get away with.

Narcissa held onto Draco's shoulders protectively. "If you want the Dark Lord here, Bella, call him yourself. I seem to recall you squabbling over the privilege only a week ago."

Bellatrix suddenly slapped her, hard; the very un-witchly violence startled Theo into taking a step back. "You have no right, after you and your failure of a spawn let Potter escape—!"

Narcissa pulled Draco behind her with one hand, snatching out her wand with the other, expression as angry as the bright red mark on her pale face. Bellatrix drew a wand as well, Death Eaters jeered for a fight, and then Lucius got between them, holding Narcissa's wand hand and pulling her back away. "It isn't worth it," he told her quietly.

"Yes, hide behind your snivelling husband!" Bellatrix sneered.

Narcissa did lot look any calmer, and Lucius pulled her out of the room before she started cursing Death Eaters. Theo was impressed it was possible to even do that — she seemed like she should be immovable when she didn't want to be, but she didn't actually really resist him. Because it was natural, in a memory, to follow the owner, Theo found himself stepping through Death Eaters in the doorway to eavesdrop on them, though still watching Draco.

"You know her favour; don't test it," Lucius was warning. She allowed him to take her back to the corridor going past the staircase, toward his study, before she refused to go further, and he didn't press it. "Getting yourself killed won't do anything for him."

In the drawing room Theo was still watching, Bellatrix pointed imperiously at Draco. "Call him." Draco just defensively crossed his arms and refused to look at her.

"If he needs to be called, if someone has to do it, then you do it," Narcissa demanded out in the hall. "Don't make Draco."

Lucius didn't answer that. "I'll send him to you as soon as possible."

Theo would never know if he actually would have done it. Bellatrix suddenly grabbed Draco's arm and pulled it free of the other, twisted it, forcing up his sleeve to expose the Dark Mark, and they stumbled together into the wall as he tried to fight her off. The Death Eaters crowded around them, aside from one who was guarding the Gringotts people with a wand, and there was some jeering commentary like "grab him" amid the commotion. One of the Death Eaters pinned his shoulder to hold him against the wall for her, and she managed to grab his other hand and force it against the mark. From his hiss of breath, it seemed like it hurt him.

She laughed triumphantly and stepped back just as Lucius returned. Draco glared sullenly at her as he pulled his sleeve back down, and his father pulled the shoulder of one of the others to part the circle hemming him in.

"That's done, then," Lucius said, holding out his hand until Draco joined him, then set his hand at the top of Draco's back, seemingly oblivious to how tense that made him. He steered Draco behind him to the doorway, not entirely turning his back on the rest of the Death Eaters.

They were only just over the threshold of the room when the massive front doors down the hall blew open, with such force that they shook the walls when they struck and several portraits crashed to the floor. And then Voldemort was there, floating, flying down the hall, black robes billowing so that he seemed to bring the night with him.

Some of the less confident Death Eaters scattered deeper into the drawing room. Draco didn't have the chance. Voldemort pointed his wand, and a spell Theo didn't recognize ripped Draco away from Lucius and held him in the air; from the way Draco was acting, choking and clawing at his neck with erratic kicks twisting in the air, it looked like some great unseen hand had grabbed him by the throat. And that explained why all of the Death Eaters were fighting not to be the one who called him: he was already this angry with them.

"I trust," Voldemort said in that whisper-quiet voice like a knife, "that you have a very good reason for calling me…"

Draco just choked desperately, but he didn't have to answer. "There has been an incident with Bellatrix's vault," Lucius announced, and at nearly the same time, Bellatrix said, "There are Gringotts goblins here with news," and shot Lucius with a fiery glare.

Voldemort paid no attention to their attempts to undermine each other; he blew open the drawing room doors so that they slammed cracks into the plastered walls and tossed Draco down against the side of the room by the floo, sweeping toward the knot of Gringotts workers. The braver or more sycophantic of the Death Eaters followed him like attendants, including both Bellatrix and Lucius, while the others gave him space, pulling back toward the edges of the massive room like an audience; Theo was more focused on Draco, and watched him pick himself up slowly, coughing and pressing himself out of sight, hopefully-out-of-mind against the wall.

"The vault," Voldemort demanded.

"Gringotts has been robbed," the goblin with the sword said. He seemed to weirdly enjoy it. But, honestly, Theo wasn't even great at understanding the emotions of other people, let alone magical creatures — there was something alien and strange about goblins that made it so much harder. It was just unsettling. The Gringotts wizards seemed to feel it too, and mostly shifted away uneasily.

"The. Vault."

"It was entered by Harry Pot—"

Lucius was the first to sense the danger — it probably wouldn't have been obvious in the moment, but as an outside observer Theo could see how he moved a second before anyone else, and more decisively than anyone. He was already running when the first slash of blood flew across the room, and then everyone was fleeing, Death Eaters and Gringotts alike, and they were just as indiscriminately cut down. Perhaps the first thing they had ever agreed upon, Lucius and Bellatrix were identical in grabbing other Death Eaters and throwing them bodily behind them as shields against Voldemort's wrath so they could get away. The man Lucius shoved back fell right into a curse and went down with a pitiful scream in a spray of blood, his entrails pouring out of him.

Draco hesitated too long — or maybe he froze. He didn't run for the door with the others. He pressed against the wall, and flinched violently when that Death Eater died, and then it was too late to run, and he cringed back into the corner of the fireplace, trying to hide, one hand clamped over his mouth to keep from adding to the screams, jerking back into the marble with every new curse that flew. Guards and goblins were cut down as they ran for the door; one goblin fell with his head almost severed and bent back on his shoulder, face toward Draco's hiding spot, and Draco's wide eyes were fixed on him.

It took less than a minute for everything in the room to die. Theo realised he had forgotten to even look at Voldemort since the first of them started running, and it was already over when he did. The Dark Lord was standing in the centre of a nest of bodies that had fallen where they dled, twisted, mangled, in spreading pools of blood. He was showing no signs of exertion, not even an identifiable sign of anger on his distorted, snakelike face.

The room wasn't completely silent — it was quiet enough to hear blood dripping to the floor, and the ticking of a clock in the hall. One of the bodies made a horrible gurgling sound that a human shouldn't, not yet quite dead. Theo didn't think Draco was breathing — he couldn't hear it.

Voldemort took one step. The sound of his foot on the slick stone made Draco's whole body flinch into the side of the fireplace like he'd been struck.

"Clean this up," Voldemort said in a terrifyingly normal voice, no sign of his murderous rage, no sign that he was speaking to someone who thought they were hiding from him so they wouldn't be killed. Then with a gesture of his wand, the massive front window exploded out over the garden, and he soared away.

Draco finally began to breathe, sharp futile gasps through his trembling fingers, and he slid down the side of the fireplace, shaking so uncontrollably he couldn't move.

Narcissa called for Draco from outside the room, and was the first one there a moment later. Theo hadn't even known she could show that much emotion — the expression on her face was terror that she was going to find him dead. She slipped in the blood as she ran to him, and knelt in it and didn't care. "Draco…" She cupped his face and made him look away from the bodies, making him look at her so he didn't have to see. "Come here, come on." She was trying to coax him to his feet, but he couldn't.

Theo crouched beside them, wishing he could touch people here — wishing it was possible to comfort Draco, though he knew it was just a memory. He'd never seen fear like that. It was beyond screaming, crying, fleeing — he just stopped, like his body just gave up. His eyes were wide and faraway. He'd had no idea. Draco had told him about this, but just glossed over the actual act — he'd described the aftermath, like the cleanup was the bad part, and kept this part to himself.

Lucius came to the doorway and said "He's all right," and Narcissa whirled up in a rage. Theo had the sudden feeling he was missing something and froze the memory.

He gave a last, reluctant look at Draco, then he stood up again, twirling his wand to turn back time around him, watching Draco's family skitter back out of the room, Voldemort soar back through the window, then the corpses jerk back to their feet and the blood pour back into them. Back to when the slaughter began, moving outside to the hall this time before he let it resume.

Lucius and Bellatrix led the charge out of the room, past him, followed by the screams. Bellatrix ran up the stairs, ahead of her family; Lucius ran past the staircase, down the hall, and caught Narcissa on her way toward the screams. Theo followed him.

"Draco!" she demanded, trying to pull away. Lucius actually covered her mouth before she could call out for him and physically dragged her into the game room. It was weirdly visceral — he grabbed her wand hand so she couldn't use it, she elbowed him hard in the chest, and he still managed to hold her against him so she couldn't run out to find Draco.

"Don't draw attention," he breathed over her ear, holding them against the wall behind the door, like he thought Voldemort was going to hunt them down and burst into the room. "He's all right, he'll be all right… He'll have run…"

It was, begrudgingly, probably smart — one thing you could not deny Lucius Malfoy possessed was unusually acute survival instincts. There was no way to know Voldemort wasn't going to keep going and clean house, if the one room hadn't been enough to sate his anger… or if he heard something, like her yelling for Draco, that annoyed him… Theo leaned in the doorway to look out of the room, but there was nothing moving out there, just the screaming and a house that seemed to have miraculously emptied.

The last of the screams stopped, and they both went still, watchful. Lucius grew even more tense, waiting for the sound of footsteps or a cold voice.

Finally they heard the sound of breaking glass at the front of the house. He didn't relax, but she refused to be held any longer; shoving him back, she ripped out of his hands and ran from the room, calling for Draco, danger be damned.

Lucius followed her at a somewhat more controlled pace, but quickly. The other Death Eaters were beginning to come out as well; Bellatrix was on the stairs, and Avery and Mulciber were coming from the direction of what was now Draco's study. Lucius checked all of them to see if Draco was among them and discarded them when not, and didn't let any of them get ahead of him.

When they came to the drawing room and found her kneeling in the blood, Theo saw him scan the room for Voldemort, watching her back, before even looking at her and Draco. "He's all right," he said, but there was no way he could have actually known that; from their vantage point, Narcissa was mostly hiding Draco as she knelt before him trying to get him to stand, her voice an unclear murmur, and the carnage in the room was on full display. He had no way of knowing she wasn't kneeling over his body. Perhaps he was saying it to will it to be true.

Narcissa whirled around, back to her feet, with her wand out. "Crucio!" He staggered back into a side table with a strangled noise, knocked its vase to the floor, and then fell, convulsing, though not screaming. The other Death Eaters behind him gave her space — Mulciber laughed, and that was the only sound. She was a terrifying vision in her bloody dress; showing true emotion on her face actually made her more beautiful, even though that emotion was rage.

Bellatrix wasn't driven away; she stepped on Lucius' chest on her way into the room. "Too soft, Cissy. You know anger isn't enough. Want me to show you?" She waggled her wand.

With what seemed to be a monumental effort, Narcissa yanked her wand down against her side and released her husband from the curse, breathing a little hard. "Get out," she snapped at her sister.

Bellatrix ignored her. She turned around in the drawing room, taking it in, and laughed in what seemed to be joy, skipping among the corpses like a child in a field of flowers. It was just puddles of blood instead of rain she was gleefully stomping.

Draco had regained enough control over his body to begin to push himself back to his feet, using the fireplace for support. Narcissa noticed him moving and immediately turned back to help him.

Bellatrix also noticed. "He let you live." She snatched his hand out of Narcissa's and pulled him stumbling away from the fireplace, out into the room where he could see the full extent of the carnage. His eyes skittered over lines of blood sprayed across every wall and the bodies sprawled on the floor and furniture, but found nowhere safe to land. "He let you see…" Her eyes were shining and her voice was breathy. "Tell me, was he not glorious? Our Lord…"

He pulled his hand away, staring at her in mute horror, and she danced away into the bodies alone, humming off key and raising her face to the blood dripping from the chandelier.

Narcissa put her hands on Draco's shoulders and pulled him out of the room, scattering Death Eaters with her glare.

Lucius had regained his feet and composure while she dealt with her sister. Her look for him was pure disgust, and he stepped aside like the others and looked away instead of following them.

That was where the memory ended. Theo stayed there at that last image instead of returning immediately to the real world, considering the scene thoughtfully. His thorough disinterest in Lucius Malfoy as a person was unchanged, but this raised an interesting question: why was this memory here?

There were three basic reasons people removed memories for storage outside of their heads: to share them with someone else, to inspect them objectively, and to make them easier to live with. Extracting a memory didn't actually remove it from your mind, but it did change it. The way it affected the memory varied from person to person, perhaps based on how their mind worked or their relationship with their memory, how they remembered things. For some people, it removed the emotion in the memory almost entirely. For some, it made memories more distant or vague. For some, it was an actively unpleasant experience. That was why people typically did not extract pleasant memories — because making it less pleasant in your head wasn't worth it.

So why was this memory here? To share it? Certainly not. But to inspect it? That seemed possible. As he'd shown by staying in the drawing room to see the massacre while Lucius was down the hall, there was a little spatial leeway in memories, and you could use it to see details you hadn't been aware of at the time, or see what was going on without you. If he wanted to have a record of this event, now he had it.

Though, it was possible it was the third thing — that this was a difficult memory. He studied the frozen Lucius and how he had his gaze averted, and thought maybe it was shame. He was ashamed he had run away to save his own skin and left his son behind.

Good. Maybe he'd actually recognised how sorry an excuse for a man he was.

Theo moved through Lucius and the other Death Eaters to take a last look at Draco. He wasn't looking at anything, but his eyes were down and empty and his shoulders were hunched; every impression was that he was letting his mother move him, not moving under his own volition. Like his mind was still paralysed with the fear, even though his body could move again.

He tried to touch Draco's cheek to ease the ache of pathos in his chest, but of course he could only move through him, not help him. Not in the memory, anyway; maybe in the present.

#draco malfoy #fanfic #lucius malfoy #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco whumpee #voldemort whumper #narcissa malfoy #whump fic #draco is terrorised #draco is scared #tw: fear #tw: violence #draco is traumatised #tw: blood #scene from the books #teen draco #splendidissimus writing

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