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sinfulauthorwrites · 5 months

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Hold Still, My Sweet - A Vaati x OC Fic

Vaati requires a certain ingredient for his spellwork, and Enora is the only one who can help.

This fic is a gift for and was written with the help of a close friend as a thank you for being so kind to me while I was ill! I’ve wanted to write this fic for her for AGES due to a server in-joke about her taste in fictional men and dentists, and I’m glad I finally got the chance! Also, the title comes from "The Dismemberment Song" by Blue Kid!

Rating: Mature

Ship: Vaati x Enora (Original Character)

Word Count: 1.3k

Applicable Tags: Dentistry, Tooth Pulling, Mild Blood, Magic, Hypnotism, Anesthesia, Dubious Consent, Sexual Tension, Death Threats, Pet Names, Spells & Enchantments, Virginity, Vaati Being A Little Shit, Flirting, Implied Sexual Content, Oral Fixation, Tongues, Teeth, Established Relationship, Aftercare, Unrequited Love (kinda, it's not unrequited by definition but there is some kind of sense of it), There's No Actual Sex (it's just incredibly kinky), POV Third Person Omniscient, Light Masochism

Enora knocked cautiously on Vaati’s alchemy laboratory door, the wooden sound resounding through the hallway. “Come in,” the voice from the other side beckoned, and the tawny-haired maiden opened the door, shutting it behind her slowly to avoid the slamming sound it often produced. “It seems you got the message I delivered, my pet.”

Enora sighed. “Do not oppress me with your delusive titles, miscreant buffoon.” the tail end of her retort shrouded under her breath. She advanced closer to the table the mage was working at. “You failed to be clear in your request as you inquired of my help and to denote exactly of what kind.” She peered over Vaati’s shoulder, seeing an array of ancient scrolls and various types of seeds. The scrolls were in an old font, one that was indecipherable to anyone not already well-versed in Hyrulean sorcery.

“I’d prefer to explain it to you in person, as I doubt I could explain that amount of convoluted information into a single letter.” Vaati turned to face his betrothed, rolling up the sleeves on his periwinkle tunic and leaning back on the desk, putting his weight on his hands in back of him. “I need something for my next project. Something from you.”

Enora’s eyebrow raised with suspicion, wary of his vague wording. “If you need it so urgently, just be clear with it. I don’t have time for beating around the bush.” She folded her arms, waiting for an answer.

“I’m currently working on some more transformation spells, one that a scroll otherwise couldn’t grant me. Besides,” he leaned forward slightly, piercing his gaze into hers, “you said you were eager to be of help, no?”

“Hardly,” Enora retorted. “And for what purpose do you need a transformation spell? Aren’t you proficient enough with that on your own?” Her suspicion only grew, as the man she loved was already a keeper of many secrets.

Vaati’s smile dropped immediately, and his formerly flirtatious posture stiffened. “Are you prepared for the consequences of that burden?” His dark gaze turned eerily soft as the back of his index and middle fingers caressed Enora’s cheek. “I’d hate to have you parting from me so soon.” A chill went up the blonde’s spine, the mage’s words scaring her into submission. He saw the shift in her expression, smirking at her. “It seems we’ve met an agreement then, my love.”

“You still haven’t told me what you need,” Enora asserted despite her fear.

“After doing some research, it seems that acquiring the tooth of a virgin will produce the best results. However, I can’t just waltz into any home in Castle Town and demand a child provide me theirs.”

“Who would stop you? You’re more than capable enough.”

Vaati gritted his teeth. “That’s beside the point. I’m horrible with children anyway, especially quadruplets.” Vaati gently tugged at Enora’s cheek. “It would only be one of the back ones, and you wouldn’t feel a thing as long as I charm you. You hardly need all of them, especially with your utter refusal to eat anything they were built for.” Vaati paced forward, causing Enora to back up along with him. “I’ll even make it worth your while. We can do something about that pesky… virginity that’s been plaguing you.” Enora’s pale skin turned beet red, and, in her astonishment, stumbled onto the long, wooden bench behind her. Its elevated headrest gave her a direct view of Vaati towering over her. “Oh, but I almost forgot about your persistence to chastity until we wed. It’s rather… cute… of you. How did that minute fact slip my mind? It’s unusually clumsy of me.” Vaati reveled in Enora’s stammering and blushing, looking down at her slyly.

Enora released a sound of bewilderment, fumbling over her words as Vaati sat on the bench beside her. “I-I think, maybe-”

Vaati shushes her, pressing one of his slender fingers to her lips. “Shhh, it’s alright. You don’t need to worry. It’ll be over faster than a cucco’s swarm.” Before the maiden could object, Vaati chanted words in a language long forgotten, and a wave of calm overcame Enora’s mind and body. The world around her became fuzzy and warm, all discomfort she had previously felt fading. Her eyes fluttered open, this time much more glossy and distant.

“Ah, good,” Vaati sighed. “I doubt you’ll fully understand me, but I’ll talk you through each step of the way.” Vaati gently gripped Enora’s chin and eased her mouth open, pressing the pad of his thumb down slightly on the centermost point of her tongue and tracing it delicately. “Mmm, nothing unusual, thankfully. You wouldn’t believe how often I’ve had to dispose of a participant because something went wrong.” The thinly veiled threat didn’t disturb Enora, as one such as that would normally scare her even more if she were more aware.

Vaati’s hand moved from the blonde’s tongue back towards her molars, tapping each one gently to check its ability to pull. “This might be a bit more challenging than I imagined- Oh!” Vaati’s eyes lit up as he reached the furthest left molar, giving it a slight wiggle. “Seems like we’ve finally got some luck! Now, just hold still for a moment, my dear.” With a flick of his wrist, a trail of magic sent a table of specimen supplies near his side. He hummed quietly to himself as he perused the assortment of metal tools, settling on a pair of shiny metal forceps.

Vaati held the instrument in front of Enora, allowing her to focus on it if she could at all. “I’m going to use this to remove the tooth. I’ll start gently, but I will need to use considerable force. You shouldn’t feel a thing, though. Probably, anyway.” Vaati took her silence as understanding and began to insert the forceps into her mouth. He carefully wormed them to the back of her opening, tugging slowly on the chosen tooth. The friction elicits a whine from Enora, causing a dusting of pink to cross Vaati’s pale skin. “Rather forward are we, my dear?”

Vaati attempted to ignore the sounds, but the gyrating motion of the forceps segregating tooth from bone didn’t greet the maiden with pain but rather, under the spell’s influence, brought forth a sensation of euphoria. The final squelch of the molar breaching from its gums brought Enora to a higher state of pleasure, her breathing labored as Vaati quickly brought a handkerchief to the wound to ease the bleeding and assured her it would subside quickly.

After a few moments of soothing his betrothed, Vaati removed the cloth and held her hand gingerly. “It’ll be a while until the spell fully wears off, so take as much time as you need to recover.” Vaati began to clean up the supplies from the procedure, taking extra care of the tooth he extracted.

Before standing up and returning to his studies, a groan from behind him catches his attention. “Yes?”

Enora grabbed Vaati’s hand, keeping him from leaving her side. “Again?” she slurred, her inhibitions gone and eyes pleading.

“Excuse me?”

“That was… exhilarating,” she sighed, her breath labored. “Another? Do another?” She inquired with a whine. She weakly attempted to hold his hand tighter, to no avail.

Vaati’s face turns an even darker red, contemplating whether to let go of her hand. “My pet, while it may feel good now, if I take too many, it definitely won’t later. I’ll have to decline kindly.” While Enora’s pleading was like ambrosia to his ears, he didn’t want to harm her, or at least more than what was necessary. He inhaled sharply before letting go of her hand and returning to his studies. “Let me know if you need any assistance.”

Enora stared longingly at her betrothed as he left her side, slowly drifting off to sleep as the charm did its work.

Liked this and want more? Check out my AO3 here!

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rhiannonvs · 1 year

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My Miscarriage

Starting a family has always been something that has weighed heavy on my mind. My mum lost two children; my sister who was born before me died during labour, and my brother who was younger than me had a rare genetic condition causing him to pass away at three months old. I remember visiting my brother in Yorkhill Hospital and I can remember not having a wee brother any more but I was too young to understand, and I didn't truly get the weight of what had happened until I was much older. I have always known my mum is an incredible woman. She is my best friend, but as I get older I am constantly overwhelmed with how much strength, resilience and stability she gave me at some of the hardest moments in her own life.

As a new researcher in television I looked into female fertility for a show I was working on. I became aware that while the white middle class feminism I was consuming at the time was teaching me I could do and have it all, it wasn’t being honest about the timeframe I had to do it in, and because of my family history, having children before I was thirty became personally important to me.

When Rhys and I started trying I very quickly fell pregnant. I was extremely excited but also nervous. Close family members had experienced a miscariage and I was well aware of the risks involved in early pregnancy.

Rhys and I made the decision to tell people as soon as we found out at 5 weeks. This is actually only around 3 weeks into the pregnancy as it is officially calculated from the first day of your last period, and your fertile window follows about two weeks later when you can conceive. Most of our friends knew we were trying and we were so happy that keeping it a secret just seemed silly, the white lies about why I wasn’t drinking or feeling sick were pointless. Everyone was overjoyed for us, but some were also uncomfortable at us telling people so early.

At eight weeks pregnant I went to SNP Conference, I was standing for Equalities Officer and spent a full day talking to folk, handing out my leaflets and participating in a hustings for the role at night. I was exhausted and felt lousy so I had an early night but I soon woke up incredibly ill. We had guests staying with us who’s baby boy had been hospitalised the night before with sickness and diarrhea and I had caught it. I spent the night at the hospital and asked everyone I could about the pregnancy, but two separate doctors assured me that it would be fine. I was meant to go on holiday a few days later so for peace of mind we went for a private scan to check that everything was ok. Unfortunately it was not. The ultrasound couldn’t find a heartbeat, and the scan suggested that the pregnancy had failed. This then had to be confirmed by the NHS via an internal scan which can pick up any heartbeat much easier, but sadly there was no heartbeat.

The midwives were incredible, they spoke kindly but frankly about my options while giving us time to process and talk through what Rhys and I were feeling. I could take pills that would bring on the miscarriage, they could remove the failed pregnancy surgically, or I could go home and wait for it to happen naturally. The thought of something or someone working inside my vagina while I was unconscious was completely out of the question for me, and having spent the last two years of my adult life closely following my natural menstrual cycles in preparation to conceive I decided to go home and wait for it to pass naturally. The midwives followed up with regular phone calls and I had frequent internal scans to ensure that there was no risk of infection. I carried the failed pregnancy for almost four weeks before it actually happened.

That night was traumatic. I wasn’t prepared for the pain, the amount of time it would take or what would actually happen. I thought it would be like a very heavy period but it was nothing like that. The pain itself wasn’t unbearable but after enduring it for eight hours I couldn't cope any more. I couldn't lie down or sit anywhere other than the toilet because of the amount of blood and womb lining I was passing. It came out in the biggest clots I have ever seen, about the size of my hand.

The midwives had prepared us that we may see the fetus and told us that we could do what we wanted with it once it had passed. We decided we were going to bury it in our garden at the family home on the Isle of Bute and had a little tupperware box ready to put it in to transport it home. We had been prepared to see something that resembles a small white jelly baby but also told that because of the length of time I had carried the failed pregnancy it may have started to disintegrate already.

This was the scariest part for me, that I would come face to face with what could have been. We had been to see the Circ du Soleil show Ovo the day we found out I was pregnant. When we found out Ovo was Portugese for ‘egg’ it stuck and we called our wee fetus Ovo from day one. Ovo was not a child, it was not a baby, but it did represent the start of our wee growing family.

When it started we would diligently scoop out what was in the toilet and sift through it all to search for our wee Ovo. As the pain became more intense, my entire abdominal area was involved, I got intense diarrhea and started vomiting. What a sight. After hours of sifting through the toilet I had resigned myself to the fact Ovo may have gone already and we searched less and less. Eight hours in, I became quite delirious and panicked. I have a strong personal yoga practice and I spend a lot of time rooted in my own body, I lost all of that. Rhys called NHS 24 to ask for advice, the cocodamol wasn’t cutting it, I had lost my breath and I was at the very end of my tether, I wasn’t coping mentally or physically with what my body was doing.

Rhys drove me into the New Victoria Hospital where I had, what I call now, a minor meltdown. The doctor we saw gave me an injection to help my muscles relax which I felt the benefit of as soon as I got home. When I got in I went straight to bed with big Tenna Lady pants on and I finally slept. The midwives had warned me that when I felt like giving up it was probably coming to an end and this was definitely true, nothing else really passed after the hospital and the bleeding reduced to a very heavy period, although I did wear Tenna Ladies to work for the rest of the week.

When I woke up much later in the day I was determined that life had to go on and we met friends in the Chip on Ashton Lane for a large glass of malbec, where there were tears and lots of soulful conversations about life. Speaking with friends was the one thing that got us through that time, realising we were not alone, that the emotions we were feeling were normal and our grief was shared.

I am eternally grateful for the many women that reached out to me at the time to tell me I was going to be ok, for the couples who shared their experience with us and for our friends that stayed with us and listened. I have walked away from that time with a deep understanding of the healing power of sharing the female experience. There is far too much that society makes it taboo to talk about, and miscarriage is just one part of that. In sharing my story here in my own words and on my own terms I want to add my voice to the conversation about miscarriage, to try to normalise talking about early pregnancy, and to smash the stigma that causes many women and couples to go through it alone.

#miscarriage #pregnancy loss #starting a family #family planning #female fertility #grief #resilience #women's health #early pregnancy #bereavement

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105nt · 2 years

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Ink Black Heart research dump. I won't give away anything plotwise, these are just my notes on the references to other art and literature in the book, thought I would share.

Chapter Three - Epigraph

A Rhyme For The Time by Emily Jane Pfeiffer

What is to say, had best be said,

So, Lilian, look another way;

Just droop your eyes or turn your head,—

Let reason have due course to-day.

Well, well, this giddy time just past,

It has been, yes, it has been worth

The life we've spent on it so fast

That we seem beggars now on earth.

But let me argue out our case,—

My case,—since yours is all too plain,

So many press to fill my place

That, faith! my loss may be your gain.

Nay, do not look or speak just now,—

Man's reason is a thing so fine

The lightest touch may overthrow

The strongest chain he can combine;

And eyes there are, which meeting mine,

Mislead me like a marsh-fire light;—

Eyes with the glow and hue of wine

Like yours, can daze a man outright.

And deadlier peril when you speak

Awaits my boasted self-control,

For then there comes upon your cheek

An eddy which sucks in my soul!

How is it that I could behold

Your image better made in wax,

And—do not judge me over bold—

Could coldly gaze on it, and tax

The maker that he had not given

Some easy grace which should fulfil

My whole ideal? while now, oh heaven!

I see you perfect at your will.

But this is scarce the way to come

At any reasonable end;

Before I take you in the sum

I will resolve you, and so mend

My notion of you by a stern

Analysis of your pretensions;

By isolating facts we learn

To see them in their true dimensions.

A little woman, five feet two;

(Nay, love, I marked it on the wall,

And what the wall says must be true,

Though truly I had called you tall);

A maze of tawny hair, with eyes

That lurk beneath at whiles to daunt

With wicked brightness, but for size

And form, what are they? Eyes avaunt

Of dimples, would they keep but still,

One soon would weary, and then time

Turns them to wrinkles; he does ill,

I count it for his heaviest crime;

Still they are worse than nought, you see;

And for your waist,—band or no bands,—

No waist so slender ought to be,

It can be crushed between two hands.

Thus I withstand you when I dole

You out in parts, but—heart of youth,

Fire, folly, madness, on the whole

Are ye more far from sober truth

Than these and such-like ways men have

To put in doubt the thing they know,

And make their pathway to the grave

Decently dull with hollow show?

Pardon my earnestness; I smile,

Now seeing you so slight and small,

To think that it should take a mile

Of silk to cover you withal!

I would it were not so, and I

Might hope to win with honest toil

The vestments which should over-lie

Your beauty as its simple foil.

See, love, I smile again, I think

How in the happy days just passed

Your dainty share of meat and drink

Had made a hermit's lenten fast;

I would that I might take you home

And keep you as we keep a bird;

But there are laws that where you come—

You women—there must come a herd

That we must feast at periods,

That we must dress for, live for, die for;—

I dare not hope against such odds

To win the modest ends I sigh for.

Now, sweet, I listen. What? You say

You do not care for all this throng?

That you and I might take our way,

Nor think we did our neighbour wrong

If we should only strive to feed,

To house, and clothe our happy selves,

With, now and then, for some great need,

A morsel from our frugal shelves?

You social Titan! would you dare

The world's exactions thus to flout?

But what if silk fail everywhere,

And cotton may not eke it out?

Ah! how is this? I hear you laugh,—

I will not see;—how say you then,—

That women never yet were half

So eager for their toys as men?

That in your wildest fancy-flights

There is more measure than in ours;

That you would lie on thorns for nights

About an unpaid bill for flowers;

That all that marks the maddest she,

Who wanders thriftless out of bounds

In matters of finance, will be

A difference of some few poor pounds,—

Tens to our hundreds? Then you joke

About our love of bygone things:

Old pictures, grim with priceless smoke,

Old wines, their cob-webs and bees'-wings;

Till pressing harder, you declare

That, like the gondolas of Venice,

The dusky garb which now we wear,

Saves us from dangers that would menace

Our sightlier persons through the clashing

Of rival suits; that in our case

'Tis well, for swords were always flashing

When men wore silks and Flanders lace!

Then, almost breathless, you sum up:

Antiques, plate, clubs, the opera stall,

The horse that is to win the cup,

The coup that is to pay for all,

Cigars and yachting, needy friends,

And building manias;—he who searches,

You say, will find 'tis man who spends—

Save in the luxury of churches!

No more? You've done? Why, child, so pale?

Nay, not "with counting up men's crimes;"

Lilian, throw down this idle veil,

Jesting is bitter work at times.

Do I but dream I can discern

A secret hid with female art?

Speak, and God's truth! By heaven, I burn

To strain you with it to my heart.

"No more than this," you say, "the hold

Your feeble woman's will can take

On such things, is so slight, so cold,

You could release them for love's sake."

Now let me pause upon that word,

I feel as one before whose eyes

A mist, whereby his life seemed blurred,

Had parted and revealed the skies.

Nay, turn not now away, I must,

Yes, must, will, read your face, and know

Whether this wild new hope and trust

Will bear the light; one moment, so;

Now veil your eyes, as best you may,

I've seen the thing I wished to see,

My soul retires within, I pray

That what your love divines in me,

Mine may accomplish; I shall prize

Myself less meanly, having found

My humble image throned in eyes

That frame it with a glory round;

For there I show, so brave, so strong,

A true man conquering the place

Which shall be ours amid the throng,

The hurtling crowd of fortune's race;

And there I show as wise and pure

As I shall be when we have trod

That path which some way hence is sure

To land us at the feet of God.

I take it that the only seer

Possessed of true divining powers,

Is this same love, who, trumpet-clear,

Now speaks in these two hearts of ours.

He tells me you are brave and true,

And fond, yes,—spite your fierce denial!—

And if he say as much to you

Of me—Oh, put me on my trial!

I would not be the fool to shrink

From danger to your outward fate,

While hurling back your love to sink

Your life beneath its costly freight.

I see, I see, that panther gaze,

It could deceive me once, but now

I know your little winsome ways,

They shall not fright me more, I vow.

The hand that would not feel its sting,

'Tis said, should boldly grasp the nettle.

Lie still, you little prickly thing,

You only put me on my mettle.

But, child, I fain would serve alone,

And keep you queen-like at my side;

I feel your burthen, not my own;

It presses on my love, and pride.

Still, God be praised! the woman's fate,

Who serves her turn for love, is finer,

More noble than the idle state

To which we blindly would consign her.

And so again, again I seal

Our contract, and thus nerved, thus blest,

I'll labour stoutly for your weal,

And trust your Maker for the rest.

Emily Jane Pfeiffer, born on 26 November 1827, died 23 January 1890. Due to her family’s financial difficulties she received little formal education, but was a prolific writer and feminist.

“extremely conscious of being a woman writer and wrote often about the constraints on female aspiration and achievement in the nineteenth century. In general, Pfeiffer wrote about the pressures on women, their victimization, and the strategies they employed for escaping. She expressed solidarity with women unlike herself - single women, working-class women, foreign women, 'fallen' women. She characteristically portrayed the sexual passion of lovers as both natural and spiritual. Though she would not have used the words, Emily Pfeiffer dearly envisioned an egalitarian future free of racism, classism, sexism, sexual violence, and poverty.” 🖤

https://link.springer.com/chapter/10.1007/978-1-349-27021-7_18

#research dump #the ink black heart #robert galbraith #emily jane pfeiffer #a rhyme for the time

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youkiyoh · 2 years

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your (my) happy ending | l.dh

pairing : lee donghyuck x fem! reader

genre : slight fluff, lots of angst, best friends to lovers

warnings : cursing, slight making out, mentions of character’s death, mentions of sickness, mentions of disabilities

word count : 7k

summary : Lee Donghyuck represents the sun, and you mean the world to him. What happens when the world stops spinning? He’s left to write your his happy ending.

disclaimer : everything written in this story is purely fiction!! I’ve tried to do as much research as possible and may have overlooked some details, so I may not have done a good job at embodying the actual situation of someone actually suffering from illness or disabilities (I apologize in advance!)

song recs : love you to death - chord overstreet // dear me, - gentle bones

14.7.2009

You’ve been fighting for as long as you can remember.

“Your daughter has been diagnosed with leukemia.”

The word itself sounded foreign to you. You were about to turn to ask your Mom what it meant, your face falling when you see her hand over her mouth, holding back a sob as fresh tears seep from her eyes.

What was a 7 year old girl going to know about dying?

Hospital trips became a norm. School was no longer your second home, the doctor’s office was. Your parents were told that you wouldn’t make it past the age of 10.

Yet here you are, a month away from your eighteenth birthday, getting weaker as time progresses, but still alive nevertheless.

You first met Donghyuck at the hospital. You remember it hurting so bad. You’ve never been so tired in your entire life, fever never seeming to subside even after three days. You had asked the nurse if you could go to the playground, sick of being coped up in a hospital room all day long.

You never thought that you will one day be jealous of children who plays tag with their friends, who can climb up obstacles effortlessly to reach the top of slides, sliding down with the biggest grin on their faces. You used to be able to do all that.

“Are you not going to play?”

You were surprised by the sudden presence beside you, turning your attention towards the owner of the voice. A boy your age.

You shake your head. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” He asks, smile disappearing from his face as he tilts his head with a frown. “They don’t want to play with you?”

“No..” You reply, suddenly feeling shy about sharing details about yourself with a stranger. “I just get tired easily.”

“Oh.”

“What happened to your legs?”

“Oh this?” The boy looks down at himself on the wheelchair, shrugging slightly. “I got into an accident.”

“So you can’t walk anymore?” 7 year old you didn’t think before you speak.

The boy however was nowhere near offended. He instead beams up at you, his smile so hopeful that you can’t help your lips from curling up. “My doctor says I’m getting better. I’ll be able to play soon. Like them!”

“That must be nice.” You nod, wondering when you’ll be able to hear those words from your doctor. It was always “Your next appointment is on...” never “You’re getting better.”

“I’m Donghyuck.” He says. “We can play together after I get my legs back. I can’t go fast, so you won’t be tired.”

“I’m Y/N.” You say. “I’ll like that.”

Lee Donghyuck. That name ended up being one that you’ll say often. The boy who you later end up calling your best friend. The boy who never fails to brighten up your days when you feel exhausted after therapy. The boy who spent 2 months assembling his lego set, only to dismantle it so that you can build it with him again because you were too weak to play outside.

Lee Donghyuck, the boy that you fell in love with but is too afraid to tell him.

Like he said, Donghyuck did get better. You didn’t.

07.10.2020

“There’s a new bookstore that opened recently. You want to visit it?”

“I still have 4 books I’ve yet to read.” You look at the boy sitting beside your hospital bed, motioning towards the stack of books on the table. “Should probably read them before I get new ones.”

“I didn’t ask you to buy anymore.” He rolls his eyes, his palms folded behind his head as he leans back against them. “It’s really pretty. There’s even a reading corner. Besides, you’ll finish your books in what, three days? I’m just preparing in advance before you pester me to get more with you again.”

I don’t think I’ll be able to finish reading all of them.

“Hyuck.” You call out, earning a low hum from him. This was harder than you thought. Were you not able to say it because you’re afraid it’ll hurt him, or did you not want to hear it to spare yourself?

“The doctor came before you.” You whisper, eyes trained on your lap as you toyed with your blanket. From the corner of your eye, you see him straighten up. He keeps quiet, silently urging you to continue.

“I told him I didn’t want to continue this anymore.”

This. No more words were needed for him to understand what you mean. Too much of your time was spent at the hospital. Too much time wasted on treatment that didn’t seem to make you feel any better. All those time that can be meant for something more.

The room fell silent, the only sound being yours and Donghyuck’s breathing and the ticking of the clock, mocking you of the limited unknown time you have left.

“Didn’t he tell you that when you were 10? You’re still here isn’t it?” He smiles softly and you decide right there and then that you hate it. You hate how his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. You hate how you can’t have more time with him, with your parents, with anyone. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

“I don’t know if I can fight it any longer.” You shrug, blankly staring as Donghyuck’s hand slides into yours, squeezing it tightly. “I’ve been getting more restless recently.”

“Did he say when you can leave?”

“In two days.” You interlock your fingers with his, relishing in the way his thumb rubbed soothing circles against the back of your hand. “I told my Mom I didn’t want to spend the last of my days in this stupid room.”

“Hey don’t say that.” He chuckles lightly. “You still want to visit the bookstore then? I’ll buy you all the books you want.”

The afternoon sun seeps through the curtains, yellow hue illuminating his caramel skin. You didn’t know what was brighter, the sunlight or the sheer presence of your best friend. It hits you then that throughout the years of knowing Donghyuck, you’ve never once seen him cry. His smile alone could brighten up the dullest room, you genuinely believe that it puts the sun to shame. Yet here he was, sitting beside you with tears brimming the corner of his eyes, doing everything he can to keep them from rolling down his cheeks.

You smile. “Let’s visit the bookstore.”

18 things I’ll do with you

There’s a park a couple minutes away from your house. Ironically enough, you almost forgot what the view there looks like. You remember spending time with Donghyuck at this particular spot that overlooks the entire lake, the scenery so beautiful it looks like it came out straight of a fairytale. That period might have been the happiest you’ve been, because you did actually get better for awhile. You did get to play with Hyuck at the playground after he got his prosthetics fitted.

“What’s this?” You ask, looking down at the pen and paper your best friend shoved into your hands. 18 things I want to do.

“I don’t remember blind being one of your side effects.” He jokes, earning a glare from you. “I’m kidding. Fill it in.”

“18 is a lot Hyuck. I don’t think I-”

“Just... fill it in.” He pleads, staring straight ahead. “Doesn’t matter if we can’t complete it, I just want to know. Of course, if that’s okay with you.”

“Okay.” You agree, uncapping the pen. “I need some time though.”

“We have the whole afternoon.” He says, leaning down to rest his head on your shoulder. You let him, waiting for him to shift comfortably before you rest your own on top of his. “Besides, it’s been awhile since we last sat here.”

You start writing, 18 spaces not enough for you to pen down everything you want to experience. You feel yourself grow ambitious the more you scribble down your thoughts, the last few being things you know that you’ll never be able to do.

“I’m done.” You whisper, scanning over the paper before passing it back to Donghyuck. He reads it silently, folds it and place it into his pocket.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“I promise, this will be the happiest month of your life.”

You chuckle. “I don’t have much to compare, but I’ll hold you to that. It better be.”

5. go to the bookstore

Donghyuck was right. You love the newly open bookstore. The moment the door swings open, you were greeted with the smell of woods and coffee beans. Not a smell you expected, but not invading either. It was almost the perfect combination.

“I told you.” Hyuck teases, tapping your chin lightly that had fell open in awe. “It’s nice huh?”

“Yeah.” You can almost feel the excitement bubbling in the pit of your stomach, looking at the endless amount of books that you can’t wait to explore. Potted plants hang from the ceiling, acting as decorations. People scattered all around the comforting space, some looking for a new novel to satisfy their late night readings, students rushing homework, others sitting near the window with a coffee in hand, people watching.

“Matcha?” The boy asks, pointing towards the small cafe space at the corner. You nod at the mention of your go-to beverage, leaving Hyuck to order for the both of you as you make your way towards the shelves. God, you already knew you’re about to spend the whole day here.

Reading had always been your favourite hobby. There wasn’t much to do anyways, given your condition, so you settled on the one thing that you could do without having to leave the comfort of your bed. You fell in in love with reading because of its endless possibilities. You’re no longer a girl who’s sick. You become a warrior, fighting for the safety of your people. You become a detective, trying to figure out who exactly murdered your neighbour’s husband. You become an average college student, trying to balance between adulting and getting good grades.

“Thought you said you’re going to finish those you have at home first?” Donghyuck asks, watching you place 3 new books on the table he manage to secure at the far end of the store. “Let me guess, you’re already done with them.”

“Bingo.” You smile, taking a sip of your drink. “They weren’t very good though.”

He gasps offendedly, placing a hand against his chest. “You’re insulting my taste?”

“You’ll insult your own taste when you actually read them.” You sigh, recalling the contents of the novels that either had a weak plot or zero character development. “I know you only got them because the cover was pretty.”

“Maybe I’ll read them one day.” Donghyuck picks up the first book in your pile, flipping aimlessly through the pages. “I don’t know how you do this. I don’t think I can sit all day to read.”

“You can if it’s the only thing you can do.”

The boy freezes at your words, the novel dangling between his fingertips. “Y/N, that’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” You laugh, letting him know that you weren’t upset. He sighs in relief, the book plopping down into his lap.

“What will your story be like if you can write?”

“It’ll be about adventure.” You reply without hesitation, having thought about too many times. “Just 2 people travelling the world and their diary entries. The type of people they encounter. Different cultures of the countries they visit. Whether the landmarks are worth the visit. If they enjoy the food served there. I’ll write something along those lines.”

“That’s simple. And effective.” Donghyuck grins. “I might actually be interested in it.”

“Please. You’re never interested in anything I recommend you.” You roll your eyes. Getting your best friend to read is as hard as getting pigs to fly. Maybe even harder.

“I will if you wrote it though.” He shrugs. You don’t miss the hint of sadness that accompanies his voice. “You want to know what I’ll write if I ever become an author?”

“In another universe maybe, but sure. What will your story be?”

“The world will be set just like ours is now. Only difference is that technology is advanced. Way more advanced than what we have now, and people will only suffer from old age. Nothing else.” You tear your gaze away from Hyuck, looking out the tinted windows. “2 people will meet in school. They’re the main characters. They become best friends. They’ll spend their entire teenage years with each other and their group of friends. And they’ll end up realizing they’ve been in love with each other all along.” You feel him staring at you, a lump starting to form at the back of your throat. “They’ll live happily ever after.”

“You’ll make a great author.” You whisper, not caring if he notice the redness of your eyes. “Maybe you can consider that as an occupation choice in college.”

“Do you want me to?” He asks. “Because I’ll do it in a heartbeat. I’ll do anything for you.”

“Hyuck, that’s your own choice to make. I’ve told you before, I don’t need anyone to live for me.” You can’t hold it back any longer. Your first tear falls. “I don’t want sympathy.”

“This isn’t sympathy. I just want you to be happy.” He frowns, moving forward to wipe your tears away, his palm resting against your cheek. “You deserve the world, more than anyone else. You deserve to be able to see the world.”

“I am happy.” You sniffle, leaning into the warmth of his skin. “You, my parents, all of you make me so happy. And I will be. Please don’t start treating me differently.”

“Of course not.” He shakes his head profusely. “We still have so much to do you know? And we’re going to finish it. I don’t care how weak you get.”

You giggle, a genuine one that erupts from your lips. One that Donghyuck so desperately wishes he can hear for the rest of his life. “I don’t remember this being first on the list though. It’s the fifth isn’t it?”

“Where’s the fun if we go in order?” A playful expression taking over his features. “There’s no surprise in that.”

“Anyways, we should go. You spent almost 2 hours looking through those shelves.” He stands, quickly snatching the 3 books you have in your grasp. “I’ll pay. I promised your Dad I’ll have you home by dinner.”

11. teach me how to skate

For someone with prosthetics, your best friend is frighteningly good at ice skating. Not at the level that he can make it into the school team, but good enough to do tricks that can amaze a regular person. (Or maybe just you.)

You dropped out of school when you became too occupied with treatment and started home schooling. Donghyuck invited you to the rink to skate with him but you were too afraid back then, opting to watch him from the seats instead.

“I can’t believe this made it to your list.” You can hear the evident smile in his voice as he laces his skates. “I’ve been trying to get you to skate for years.”

You shrug. “I had a clear deadline of my apparent death date back then.”

You hear his breath hitch.

“Sorry. Too soon?”

“I hate how you joke about it to cope with it.” Donghyuck deadpans. “You’re crazily optimistic for someone who’s dying you know?”

“Okay,” You huff, jabbing a finger into his forearm. “Look who’s speaking now.”

He smirks, extending his arm out in which you gingerly slide your hand into his and you let him to pull you to your feet. You manage to get a clear view of the rink, the sudden emptiness of it making you feel giddy. “Does no one come here on Thursday nights?”

“The guys are usually here with me.” He replies, leading you towards the rink, and your mind immediately drifts to the group of friends from Hyuck’s school, having met them once. “I asked them not to come today though, we don’t want them seeing you fall on ice right?”

“How gentleman of you.” You scoff. “Just say that you want me all for yourself Lee Donghyuck, I swear I won’t tease.”

He turns towards you abruptly, face only inches away from yours and the proximity had you tilting your head back. “I do want you all to myself. Sharing’s not really my thing.”

Bold of you to think you can match Donghyuck’s flirty personality.

“We’re here to skate.” You clear your throat, pushing him towards the rink to avoid him seeing the red hue creeping up your neck.

He moves first, stepping onto the ice. He reaches out his arms towards you and you gladly latch yourself onto him, testing the waters carefully with one skate.

“You said this will be easy.” You huff, starting to balance slowly once you’re fully on the ice. “I can’t even stand properly.”

“I’ve never lied to you.” Donghyuck starts moving backwards slowly, stopping when you look up at him with panic in your eyes. “I got you, I’ll hold onto you okay?”

“Just small steps. Try bending your knees more. And then we can start going faster.” He instructs patiently, allowing you to move across the ice. You march pathetically, trying to match his movements. Donghyuck can’t help the laughter from escaping his mouth, watching you waddle after him like a baby penguin chasing its mother. A sight he’s been dying to see for years.

It didn’t take you too long before you tell your best friend that you’re comfortable enough to start going faster. He silently obliges, guiding you with your glides until you make the entire stretch.

“Not as bad as you thought huh?” Donghyuck asks, grinning proudly at you. “You did great, considering it’s your first time on ice. Even better than me actually, but then again your legs are real.”

“And you said joking about it was my way of coping?” You narrow your eyes at Donghyuck. “Look who’s talking.”

Donghyuck throws you a sheepish smile, starting to glide again. You start getting the hang of it, gliding faster than you thought you could, high off the exhilaration you felt. You finally understood why Donghyuck loves the sport so much. The cold wind hitting your skin as you move carefreely was almost addictive.

“I’m letting go.” You whisper. Donghyuck nods, settling you at the edge of the rink before skating to the other end himself. He shouts, voice echoing throughout the entire space. “Skate over!”

Perhaps it’s the confidence laced in his voice, or the fact that there was nothing left for you lose. What’s the most that’s going to happen? You fall and pick yourself back up. You start skating without your best friend holding you, your knees bucking initially but you manage to steady yourself, his figure getting bigger and bigger until you reach him. “I did it.” You felt giddy with excitement, something you haven’t felt in a very long time. “Hyuck I did it.”

“You did it.” Donghyuck praises, pulling you into his chest as he gives you the biggest bone crushing hug. “Felt good?”

“Yeah.” You nod, slinging you arms around his neck as you return the affection. “I think I finally understand why you like it so much.”

Donghyuck pulls away, about to hit you with a “I told you so” when he looks at you and you can almost feel the moment the happiness leaves his body. It was then did you feel the slow trickle of warm liquid down your nose.

“Fuck, it’s okay.” You shake your head, holding your hand over the area. “Uh, I have tissues in my bag, can we go back?”

“Come on.” Donghyuck frowns, his fingers interlace with yours like two puzzle pieces fitted just for each other. Luckily for you, the skate back to the entrance wasn’t too far away and you were able to quickly press a tissue against your nose before your blood stained anything in the rink.

“Has it been happening more often?” Donghyuck asks, his brows furrowed together in concern.

“After I stopped therapy, yes.” You say, watching as his shoulders visibly sag and he busies himself with untying the laces of your skates.

“It’s not painful right?” He asks, pulling your feet out and sliding your sneakers back on. “You’re not in pain right?”

“No. It’s not painful at all.” You place a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “I just get them more regularly than I used to. That’s it.”

Donghyuck shifts back up to look at you. For a moment, you just sit there, running your eyes across his entire face until he brushes his hand across your forehead, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re going to be okay.”

I’m going to be okay.

His gaze travels down to your lips momentarily before he looks into your eyes again. You feel him leaning forward, your own breath getting caught in your throat. You hear your heart pounding against your chest, the buzzing in your ears getting louder and louder the closer he got. Lee Donghyuck, the boy that barged into your life with every shade of yellow trailing behind him when you were at your lowest, your best friend of years, was about to kiss you.

He doesn’t.

He settles for a kiss on your cheeks instead, his lips lingering not longer than 3 seconds.

“You’re going to be okay.”

3. sing to me

Your body starts failing on you.

Walks begin feeling a little more breathless. You had to pause once in awhile, lowering yourself on a nearby bench to rest before you can continue. So when your Mom cancelled dinner with Donghyuck, saying that you’re too tired this particular day to leave the house despite your protests, you best believe the boy is going to appear on your front porch with two platters of sushi in hand.

“You can take us out of the sushi bar but you can’t take sushi bar out of us!” Donghyuck exclaims, kicking at your door with his leg, announcing his arrival. “What’re you doing? Your Mom said you’re asleep.”

“What’re you doing here?”

“You stood me up and I was starving to death.” Your best friend sighs dramatically, dropping the bag of food on your table before flopping onto your bed. Donghyuck turns his head to look at you, all curled up under your pile of blankets, hair resembling that of a bird’s nest, lips slightly pale.

Under your bedroom lights, Donghyuck believes you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

“So what were you doing?” He asks, moving closer to you under the blankets with his eyes focused on the screen, an episode of Mr Bean softly playing in the background. Sushi platter long discarded on the floor of your room.

“Writing.”

“Writing?” Donghyuck turns to you, his brown orbs glistening in delight. “That story?”

“Well I was trying.” You smile sheepishly, picking at your nails. “I don’t know how to start it though.”

“You’re experiencing a writer’s block without even starting?”

You shrug. “I don’t know what Paris looks like.”

You shouldn’t have said that, because you hate the way Donghyuck’s smile falls from his face.

“That’s okay.” He pokes his tongue against his inner cheek, something he’s always done out of habit. “We can go there together next time. I’ll even plan the itinerary. And you’re welcome, because you know I hate planning.”

“You’re crazily optimistic you know?” You mock his words, shaking your head softly.

“I learn from the best.”

Silence isn’t something that’s foreign between you two. There’s the silence that’s awkward, and then there’s the silence that’s comfortable. The one you had with Donghyuck was something way more than comfortable.

It felt like home.

There was no need for words. He’s just there. He always has been.

“Hyuck.” You call softly. “It’s cold.”

“Come here.”

If only death is as peaceful as it is right now, being engulfed in the warmth of the one person you held so close to heart, you would welcome it with open arms.

You feel yourself sinking into a hole. Never knowing when you’ll reach the ground, darkness taking over with every passing second.

Hyuck.

His face getting blurry. All the memories you had with him slowly disappearing.

You don’t want to forget them.

You never want to forget them.

“Can you sing?”

“What do you want to hear?”

“Anything.” You whisper, eyes fluttering shut, head buried into Donghyuck’s chest. “I just want to hear you.”

And he starts. His voice was like honey. Sweet, smooth. Addictive. You never want to stop hearing him sing. He can be singing the ugliest song you’ve ever heard, yet he manages to turn it angelic.

You remember him talking about music. The burning passion in his eyes whenever he speaks about it. How he’ll major in music when he goes off to college. The way his eyes closes, the way his nose scrunches, the way his body sways to the melody.

The world will be a better place if people could hear Donghyuck sing.

You hope that people will be able to hear him one day.

There wasn’t a need to be jealous. So what if you won’t be there? He’s here, in your room. His lips beside your ear, hands playing with your hair, lulling you to sleep.

Donghyuck feels his first tear fall. You don’t, chest heaving up and down peacefully.

He’s home.

His prosthetics sit next to your bedside table. Your empty medicine bottles decorating the top of it.

A disabled boy. A dying girl.

He’s home.

“I love you.”

He loves you

8. watch the sunset from your rooftop

1. can i kiss you?

There is one thing that you love about Donghyuck’s house. (apart from the boy living in it) It’s the rooftop.

You can see the sunset from there. His house sits at the last of the stretch, so there was no need to worry about getting blocked.

You’ve only ever seen it once when you stayed over as a kid, and your friend had dragged you up the flight of stairs hurriedly, way faster than your little legs could go back then.

You would run a marathon for that view.

It was breathtaking.

Thankfully, there was no need to actually run a marathon to be able to experience it again.

“You know, I’ve been up here countless times.” Donghyuck says, looking up at the sky. “Never as pretty as that one time you saw it with me.”

“I’m honored.” You laugh, tucking your knees to your chest, head resting between them. “Maybe pretty views just like me more than you.”

“You’re my view though.”

“Don’t say that.” You roll your eyes playfully, pushing his shoulder to hide the growing blush on your cheeks.

“I mean it, Y/N.” He smiles softly, looking at you with utmost sincerity. “I mean every fucking word I said.”

“Okay.” You breathe out, heart pounding relentlessly. “Well...thank you.”

Donghyuck reaches into his back pocket. “Actually, I have a list too.”

“Oh?”

“There’s only one thing though.” He shakily hands you the piece of paper, and the action itself seems endearing.

Lee Donghyuck is nervous.

“This is something you want to do?” You ask, carefully opening the note. “We’re doing it together?”

“Yeah.” He nods, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. “Just read it first.”

His eyes dart nervously between you and your hands, and he feels like exploding.

You read it.

You read it again.

Oh god, why are you not saying anything?

“Y/N?”

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He mumbles nervously, repeatedly rubbing the back of his neck. “Shit, I didn’t make you uncomfortable did I? This was a stupid idea, I’m so-”

You kiss him.

One second.

Two seconds.

Five seconds.

You pull away. His eyes wide, staring at you. You can’t help giggling at his face.

“I didn’t say no though.”

It takes him two seconds to register that you had kissed him before he was leaning back down, chasing after your lips.

You thought you were home with Donghyuck before, but this, this feels right.

You felt drunk kissing Donghyuck. His lips slightly chapped, but so was yours. His hands pressed against your cheeks warmly, holding you as if afraid that you’re going to slip away beneath his fingertips. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you tug him unbearably close until all your senses were clouded with him and him only.

He deepens the kiss, tongue brushing over your own, lips hot against yours. You feel dizzy in that moment. Dizzy with the overflowing passion he’s throwing at you.

You pull away first, lungs desperately begging for air. Panting heavily, you rest your forehead against his, eyes closed, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

“Hyuck.”

A raw sob escapes his lips.

You freeze. You never thought you’ll ever witness Lee Donghyuck crying. You don’t even think he cried after the accident that took his legs.

He was sobbing uncontrollably, head buried in your neck, tears spilling down onto your skin. His entire frame shakes, hands bunching up the fabric of your shirt around your waist.

“I hate you.” He cries.

“I hate you so fucking much.”

He loves you.

“It’s okay.” You whisper. Funny enough, your tears don’t fall.

“It’s not okay. You’re dying. You’re fucking dying and it hurts.”

“Just a little earlier.”

“A little?” He sniffs, looking at you with bloodshot eyes. “Our story hasn’t even started yet and you’re leaving. That’s not how it works Y/N. That’s not what writers do.”

“I know you’ll write it.”

“I don’t want to do it alone.” He hiccups, a whole new wave of tears threatening to spill again. “I’m a selfish person.”

You smile endearingly, endeared by him. This time, you’re the one reaching out to wipe his tears away. “I guess that’s why we go so well together.”

“I’m a selfish person too.”

He remains silent, his breath steadying slowly. “You really are.”

His head find solace in the crook of your neck once again, breathing in your scent. You smell like peaches, the ever so subtle smell of tiger balm wafting into his nose.

“Hyuck.” You call out, your hand tangled in his mop of brown hair. “Look.”

He looks.

The view really does favor you over him. For the second time in his life, the sunset from his rooftop was beautiful.

Red, orange, yellow, every single shade blended together to create a hue so warm, so perfect he thought it was a painting. Was this what you’ve always compared him to?

He’s the sun, and you’re his world. What happens when the world stops spinning?

He doesn’t want to find out.

For now, he’ll settle for looking at you.

The sunset may be the view you came to the rooftop looking for. But it wasn’t his.

He came up looking for you.

To Lee Donghyuck, you’ve always been the view.

He leans in, pressing a chaste kiss against your temple.

“Stay with me.”

“I’d love to.”

#. detour

Donghyuck gets a call from your Mom and it feels like his world is collapsing.

Almost.

All he heard was ‘hospital’ and ‘passed out’ and he had ran out of the classroom before the teacher could even yell at him. His stupid chemistry test can wait.

You couldn’t.

He rushes to the hospital, heart heavy as he searches for your room. He almost slips after seeing your parents sitting outside the emergency room.

“Is she okay?”

“Oh Hyuck, you’re here.” Your Mom sniffs, rubbing her nose. “I’m sorry, you must be having school now right? I should have-”

“No, that’s fine.” He pants, eyes flickering between the parental figures he has grown so accustomed to and the unlit emergency sign. “Y/N, she’s okay right? Please, please tell me she’s okay.”

“She is.”

All this while he felt like he was running with a mountain attached to him. Pulling him back from reaching you.

He was so afraid that he had been too late. He was so afraid that he’ll never be able to hear your voice again.

“Oh thank god.” He closes his eyes, hunching over as he breathes deeply.

“Her chances aren’t good.” Your Dad says softly and Donghyuck feels the mountain reattaching itself back to him. “The doctor says we should be prepared.”

How can anyone be prepared to lose someone? How can anyone be prepared to lose you?

“Can I have some time with her? Is she awake?” Donghyuck gulps, wiping his palms against the fabric of his jeans.

Your Mom smiles at the boy. “Go on in. She took a nap just now.” He bows, pushing open the door quietly, stepping into your room.

“Y/N?”

“Hyuck?”

He doesn’t say anything else, marching over to your bed in 3 large strides before wrapping his arms around you.

“Don’t ever scare me like this again.” He sighs, breath tickling your ear. “I thought the worst.”

“Did my Mom tell you?” You ask, rubbing his back soothingly. “I told her I’ll call you myself.”

Donghyuck scoffs, pulling away to look at you. “You’d only call me when you get home.”

“That’s an accusation.” You hiss, narrowing your eyes at him. “I can sue you for that you know?”

He smiles, a bright one, eyes curling up into crescents, his nose slightly scrunched up. “Go ahead.” His head dips down, and you let out a noise in surprise. “I’ll let you win the case.”

“Since when did I let you kiss me?”

You were smiling nevertheless.

Donghyuck kisses you again, lingering a little longer than the last time. He tasted like apple cobbler, and you find yourself unconsciously leaning up to reach him.

“No one said anything about the list having an expiration date.” You can feel him smile against your lips.

“You’re still quite warm.” He mumbles, pressing his palm to your forehead. “Your fever hasn’t gone down?”

“It got better.” You shrug, shifting slightly so that he can comfortably sit on your bed. “You might have burned yourself when you touched me yesterday.”

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” Donghyuck lectures, frowning disapprovingly. “Can you please listen to your body?”

“I don’t want to come back here.” You whine, throwing your hands up in frustration. “This sucks so bad. I want to be outside.

“I know.” He says, brushing the stray hairs out of your face. “Is there anything on your list I should prioritize first?”

You think back over the list you wrote down, mentally going through all of them. 2. i’ve never been to a carnival (you don’t think you have the capacity to even sit the carousel right now) 9. go on a road trip (can be done, but hard. too tiring) 17. go to Paris (why was this even on the list?)

“Remember where we went to celebrate when you turned 15?” You ask, turning up to look Donghyuck. “You said it was the best birthday you’ve ever had?”

“Yeah.” He smiles back, the memories flooding back to him. “That was truly the best birthday ever.”

“So, number 7?”

You nod. “Number 7.”

7. my happy ending

You insisted on taking the 2 hour walk to the beach despite your parents (and Donghyuck’s) protests.

“The weather is beautiful today.” You argue.

“I don’t know when it’ll ever be as nice as this again.”

And so they let you.

Donghyuck knocked on your door when the sky was still dark, waiting until you were ready to leave.

You should have known better that this is going to tire your best friend.

“I’m sorry.” You apologize, bottom lip tugged between your teeth as you wait for him to catch his breath. God, Donghyuck was right. You really are selfish.

“Don’t apologize.” He breathes out, his grip on your hand tightening. “I’m okay, we’re almost there. Maybe even catch the sunrise.”

The two of you continue your journey in silence, accompanied by the low hums from the early wind and the soft, distant chirping of birds. You faintly hear the sound of waves crashing and look towards your friend, already finding him smiling back at you.

“There.” You whisper, pointing towards the small bench sitting alone at the edge of the pavement. The bench that you and Donghyuck first discovered gave the best view of the entire beach. The bench that you surprised Donghyuck with his favourite chocolate cake on his 15th birthday. “It’s still there.”

Donghyuck lets go of your hand, bending down slightly in front of you. “Come on.”

“Hyuck,” You start, shaking your head in disapproval. “No, you’re tired.”

“I’m not.” He argues, patting his back. “Quick, the sun is rising. You already made me walk 2 hours to get here. What more harm can a piggyback ride do?”

And because you can never say no to Lee Donghyuck, you hesitantly climb onto his back, surprised by how he’s able to hoist you up with ease.

You sigh softly, resting your head comfortably against his shoulder. If the world didn’t want to give you a healthy body, could it give you the ability to stop time?

You love him. You’ve been in love with him ever since he offered to play with you. You fell in love with the way he manages to live life to the fullest despite his limitations. You fell in love with the way he treated you as Y/N.

You’re in love with Lee Donghyuck and you never ever want to stop loving him.

“Lee Donghyuck.”

You feel him tense up. “Oh no.” He chuckles nervously. “My full name?”

“I love you.”

It takes a while for him to respond. “I love you too.”

He loves you back.

Donghyuck sets you down slowly on the bench. He’s panting heavily at this point, falling down next to you as he tilts his head back to catch his breath.

“I told you you didn’t need to.” You frown, brushing the hair out of his face. A smile tugs at his lips from your affection, and he feels the energy flowing back into his body.

“I wanted to.” He gently grabs your hand, pressing his lips to your palm. “You loved it that one time I did it.”

Your heart twists. He’s giving you so much.

And you can never give them back.

Coming to the beach in the early morning will forever remain one of yours and Donghyuck’s little secret. It was just the two of you crazy enough to sit here in the wee hours of the morning, waiting for the big golden yolk to start its work that day.

You felt transported to another world sitting here. The saltiness of the beach, the low crashing of waves, the occasional cool breeze against your skin that had you tugging your sweater closer to your body.

You imagine building a house here. A window next to your shared bed. Waking up in the morning pressed up next to him. Just the two of you watching the world in silence before starting your day.

If only.

“What’re you thinking about?” He asks, sliding an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into him. You hum contentedly, head nestled in the crook of his neck.

“Just how nice it’ll be if I can live by the beach.”

“You want to live by the beach?”

You nod. “It’s so beautiful.”

“You didn’t write it on your list though.”

You giggle softly. You feel the low vibrations coming from Donghyuck’s chest.

“Hyuck?”

“Hmm?”

“Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Go write your own story.”

His breath hitches. His thumb stops drawing circles on your arm.

“But you’re my ending.”

“No. Find your own ending.” You plead, holding out your pinky. “Please?”

He shakily lifts his free hand up, interlocking your finger with his.

“I promise.”

“Thank you.”

You feel tired. Why are you so tired?

“Remember when you smashed my face into my birthday cake here?” Donghyuck asks. “And then I threw it down your shirt?”

You close your eyes, picturing the scenario. “Yeah. My Mom scolded me for the rest of the day. She just bought that shirt and you ruined it.”

He laughs. “How was I suppose to know?”

You’re struggling to breathe.

“I should have hugged my parents a little longer just now.” You whisper softly, a single tear escaping your eye.

A whimper escapes Donghyuck’s lips. “Do you want to leave?”

“No. No, it’s okay. I can do that when I get home.”

“Tell me when you want them to pick us up okay? I don’t think I can carry you back.” Donghyuck feels his voice coming out shaky. “You’re pretty heavy.”

“Okay.”

It didn’t take long for the sky to light up.

“Y/N, look.”

The sun peeks between the clouds, so warm, so yellow.

You didn’t look.

“It’s pretty huh?” Donghyuck says again, squeezing you tighter against him. “Is this what you imagined?”

Donghyuck’s heart races.

“Y/N?”

Lee Donghyuck cries. This time, you don’t see it.

“Fuck.” He shakes. “Fuck, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

The waves drown out his sobs. He hugs you so tight it physically hurts. He didn’t know how long it was until your parents came.

“I love you.”

“Go find your happy ending.”

The sun became a little duller after that day.

16.11.2034

“Mr Lee, thank you so much for accepting our interview.”

Lee Donghyuck smiles at the man sitting across from him. “You’re welcome, I’m more than willing.”

Lee Donghyuck, the singer-songwriter whose songs have touched the hearts of many. Lee Donghyuck, the boy who pursued a music career after graduating college and succeeded.

Lee Donghyuck, the guy who recently published a book that someone didn’t get to finish.

The last thing on the list.

“What would you say is the biggest difference between writing a novel and songwriting?”

“Writing a novel is hard.” He laughs, relaxing against the chair he’s seated on. “There’s so much more to consider. Every sentence has to mean something. There must be a correlation for your beginning and end. Whereas for songwriting, it just flows naturally to me. Maybe I’m just not a good writer. I’ll just stick to what I know I’m good at, music.”

“So you won’t be writing another novel anytime soon I suppose?”

“No.” Donghyuck shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Was travelling the inspiration behind your book?”

“Partly. Someone... actually gave me the inspiration for the book.” He admits, drumming his fingers on his knees. “Her dream was to see the world, and hopefully turn it into a story.”

“She’s a friend I assume?”

“Yeah.”

“And what did she think about your novel? Did she like it?”

Lee Donghyuck closes his eyes and smile.

“I really hope she did.”

18. write my own story

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crownandwriter · 3 years

Note

Okay, if 4 isn’t necessarily too many, could I please request headcanons for how Sucrose, Kazuha, Zhongli, and Beidou (my personal favorites ❤️) would treat or take care of their sick partner? Lately my migraines have been out of control, and I wish I had someone to baby me a little…

I can absolutely do that, I hope you feel better! Kazuha is one of my favorites too I'm always thrilled to write him ;;

Kazuha

-Outside of serious illness, Kazuha prefers to care for you himself. He doesn’t mind spending a day or two in one spot while you recover, but as you can imagine he’s a little hesitant to march up to the door of a local healer as an anonymous, ARMED foreign swordsman unless your ailment is entirely beyond him. Also--and he won’t admit this unless asked--he’s fond of the intimacy in caring for his loved ones. It’s very domestic and, being a wanderer, that’s a feeling he doesn't often gets to enjoy anymore.

-In his travels, Kazuha has collected knowledge on all manner of obscure home remedies. The effectiveness of them is rather hit-or-miss...but they’re all rather harmless, at the very least. He’s more than willing to go out of his way for ingredients, especially once you find which cures work best for you. If all else fails, he’ll stock up on medicine the next time you two make a trip into a village proper.

-He knows there’s not much he can do beyond providing medicine and comfort, so he doesn’t let himself fret about the camp all day like it does any good. The only exception being when you’re not holding down any food. Then he begins to worry a little more.

-Instead, he gives you your medicine and helps you get comfortable. Usually he waits until you ask, but this time he’ll take initiative and offer his lap to you as a pillow. And would love it very much if you accept. He’s content to spend the day lost in his musings while you rest, massaging your scalp slowly with one hand. If you don’t sleep well, you’ll catch his soft humming as you flicker in and out.

Sucrose

-It’s a 50/50 shot that Sucrose has extensive knowledge on your ailment…or none at all. If she does have knowledge about it, she’s definitely also developed some medicines for it, and is very quick to whip them up for you. They’re really quite effective, too, it’s a wonder you haven’t seen her remedies in market stalls yet.

-If she’s clueless, she’s going to run out and drag someone back who does. More than likely, it’ll be Barbara. The entire time you’re being treated, Sucrose is asking questions, closely observing, learning. It’s partially for selfish reasons, to sate her ever-present curiosity, but also partially so she’s prepared to care for you next time.

-Once you’re treated and comfortable, Sucrose is really going to want to go back to her research. You’re going to sleep now anyways, right? You could just call for her if you need something? But it’s easy enough to talk her into staying with you. She says it’ll just be until you fall asleep, but you lay your head on her shoulder and she’s not so sure she can follow through with leaving….

-She gives very good back rubs, for whatever reason. Her hands are petit and soft, and careful lab work over the years has made her motions very steady. It can knock you out pretty quickly, outside of the pain keeping you up. Regardless of if you do or don’t sleep, Sucrose passes out within fifteen minutes, guaranteed. Her sleep schedule is awful and she needs the rest too. She’s not there to dote on you as much as the others, but she’s extra cuddly in her sleep so that makes up for it, right?

Zhongli

-A master of many medicines, really. Who needs Bubu Pharmacy when you’re thousands of years old and basically taught humanity all the tricks? That said, the best medicines he knows are expensive, take forever to make, and/or taste absolutely disgusting. ...but they do work. And will probably knock you out cold to make recovery easier.

-He’s the textbook doter of these four; he’s very attentive and gentle, especially while you wait for the medicine to kick in. There’s constantly a glass of cool water by your side--remember to stay hydrated. You must be hungry--this soup is very nourishing. Is the light bothering you--I’ll close the curtains.

-He’d love to lay with you while you rest, but is concerned about agitating any aches you may have. If you ask to be held, though, he’s all over it. He gets all the aforementioned stuff set up, and then crawls into his probably massive bed with you, one arm as your pillow and the other at your hip, rubbing the skin there softly with a thumb.

-If your headache isn’t so bad that noises bother you, he’ll softly tell you one of his countless stories until you fall asleep--like, who wouldn’t want to doze off to that voice? He may or may not fall asleep with you, but either way Zhongli will be there when you wake up.

Beidou

-For this scenario, you’re more than likely staying aboard the Alcor, in which case...well, supplies are limited at the best of times when you’re out at sea. There is a healer on staff, and Beidou wouldn’t hesitate to ask them to do what they can for you. But what they can do is limited.

-More than likely, there won’t be much medicine available. And as the Captain of the ship, Beidou can’t abandon her post to spend all day below deck with you either. That said, she does her best! She gets you tucked in comfortably, and blots out the portholes to keep the light out. If the rocking of the ship bothers you, she’ll give you the pillow from her bunk and fluff it up nice to try and cradle your head.

-Every other hour or so, she makes her way back down and spends some time doting on you. Her care is a little more...rugged? Than you may be used to, but her natural sisterly manner still manages to shine in these moments. If you’re asleep when she comes in, she’s content to pat your hair for a while and watch you finally at peace from your earlier discomfort. If you’re awake, her firm hand will massage your neck and temple to try and ease the tension. She speaks softly in these moments--mushy, loving words aren’t usually her thing, but they come so naturally in these moments you suspect Kazuha is rubbing off on her.

-If she can’t make it down for a regular check-in, she sends another crew member to peek in on you and keep her updated. She worries more than she lets on.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact imagine #kazuha x reader #zhongli x reader #sucrose x reader #beidou x reader #crownwrites #fluff #comfort

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midnight-on-pluto · 3 years

Note

Could I get some parental Aizawa with a reader who has anxiety please? (And maybe undiagnosed adhd?) thanks!!

Parent!Aizawa with anxiety / ADHD reader

A/N: I have ADHD so i got this IN THE BAG you know how many times i’ve thought about parent Aizawa it’s so cute!! ahhh i love you 💕

Warning: swearing

╰➤ Aizawa is so parenting to his students so you know he’d 100% be the best dad

╰➤ He falls asleep everywhere and you know he falls into a DEEP SLEEP there’s definitely been times when you thought he was dead

╰➤ Once had a panic attack when he was asleep because you were like “oh my god my father is dead and now i’m an orphan” and he just like woke up in the middle of it. You literally slapped him, such an ass. He apologized about it too but you were like “WHY DID YOU SLEEP ON THE TRAIN AND THEN JUST NOT BREATHE”

╰➤ He’s so sweet about your anxiety too, he’s definitely done research and he was the one who originally brought you to get diagnosed when you were younger because you know he’s educated on mental illness

╰➤ Makes sure you take your meds if you have some, your ADHD brain will forget sometimes and completely ignore your alarm(s).

╰➤ Somedays you’re stubborn and he just goes “take your pills,” and you’re just like “no,” he’s tired of this shit please he just wants sleep

╰➤ Will FORCE it down your throat and then nap because HOLY SHIT you are strong please just take the pills bb

╰➤ He’s so patient with you! If you’re struggling with any homework and can’t focus he’ll sit with you to help and calm you down. He isn’t fussy with grades so if you’re not doing too well he won’t scold you, but he’ll help you if you’re failing so you at least pass

╰➤ If you’re having a super bad day with anxiety, he’ll sit with you and make sure you’re okay. If you want alone time he will just sit up, shuffle to his bedroom, and sleep until you come to wake him up

╰➤ Speaking of waking him up if you’re having an anxiety attack and need him, or you’re feeling overstimulated and need him, he doesn’t care if you come over and wake him at any time. He can easily fall asleep after anyways and he’d much rather make sure you’re okay

╰➤ Due to anxiety you may get anxious when he goes away on hero work. Aizawa is very cautious when he’s working, in fact your one of the main reasons he took a teaching position. He gets less hero work and more teaching work, so he can spend time with you and it takes some of the stress off

╰➤ When he does have to go for work, he makes sure to give you constant check ups, messaging you every hour and every second he gets just so you aren’t anxious. He doesn’t think it’s a bother, and it’s not annoying to him so you don’t need to worry about bugging him.

╰➤ When you were younger he made Present Mic look after you while he went on missions. He always called at night before bed and required Present Mic to be giving him constant text updates

╰➤ Now that you’re older he just makes Mic check in on you, but trusts you to be home alone majority of the time

╰➤ As for ADHD, if you’re feeling overstimulated (holy fuck this is the worst) he stays right next to you. Mental breakdowns are common with both your anxiety and ADHD so as much as it hurts, Aizawa has really gotten used to seeing you with tears streaming down your face

╰➤ There’s nothing he can really do with overstim, you just gotta wait it out or distract yourself, but he tries his hardest

╰➤ If you lash out at him he doesn’t mind, but makes sure you know to apologize when you’re feeling better. He understands that you’re feeling overwhelmed and need some space, so he’s willing to give you just that

╰➤ Aizawa is such a good dad and would do anything to make you happy. He’d be the first to take you to a doctor for diagnosis and he’s always supportive. Please, if any of you have kids be an Aizawa.

#pluto’s asks 🌙#aizawa headcanons #aizawa sensei #shoto aizawa #my hero academia aizawa #mha aizawa #aizawa hcs #father aizawa #dad aizawa

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theunaestheticstudyblr · 3 years

Text

Autism and School

Autism affects many aspects of your life, not just social ones like many people think. Autism often occurs with depression, anxieties, OCD, and other mental illnesses. It also presents differently in males than it does in females, making it pretty hard to diagnose sometimes. I wasn't diagnosed until I was 21. I didn't know much about it but I did a TON of research because it scared me to be honest. Reading all about it made so much sense with how I act, but my cousin said something that helped more. She told me that it's something that I've always had my entire life it's just now it has a name. Nothing changed.

But doing research helped me learn a lot and change how I do things to make it easier because you can only run into a brick wall for so long. I hope I can help educate people who didn't even know where to begin like me as well as provide a place for conversation to happen and tips spread.

I have found that studying can be really hard especially when your head doesn't want to cooperate. You yell at it to do this thing but it says you can only do the other thing and it drives you insane. I find that fighting it doesn't help much. Instead, I have to bribe my brain. If I study for an hour, I get to play video games. Usually hyperfixation kicks in while studying and I focus well, forgetting about my reward. Sometimes though, every minute is pain and overwhelming. When that happens, I give myself a break. Honestly I don't know if doing so just feeds the behavior like giving into OCD things or not, but I don't know how else to mitigate that.

For projects, I try to force a hyperfixation by finding something in it I find cool. Then presenting isn't as bad because hey this is super cool and my brain wants me to tell everyone. But finding that thing gets hard and can make a project content heavy in only one part while very lacking in other parts. So I try to find small points in every topic (which is draining tbh).

Keeping on top of a schedule is honestly the best thing I have done for myself. It helps make sure I eat, hydrate, work, shower, and clean without freaking out over something. It also allows me to monitor foods and activities and see how they impact me mentally and physically, allowing me to make more educated decisions for myself. I know now that if I read in the afternoon, I tend to be calm the rest of the day whereas if I sleep in past 9 or 10am I know I will be stressing and freaking out all day.

Some days going to classes are difficult. That's why I wear makeup. I hate wasting money. If I put on makeup but stay home, I've wasted that makeup, time, and money. So therefor putting on makeup forces me to go to class. I also use this trick when I'm really depressed and I know I need to leave the house.

I find that focusing in class is easier when I have a distraction present as well. That way I'm not trying to focus on focusing and then getting stressed and anxious. Instead I let myself have a distraction which keeps me calm and happy and let's me focus without trying to force it.

I keep comfort items with me wherever I go as well which helps me be calm and happy. I feel more secure in class. Jackets are amazing for this for me. They give me a chance to "hide" and be cozy and focus. Journals are also great. I used to journal a lot and definitely need to get back into it.

I don't know a whole bunch about stimming or anything like that and most of what I read is targeted towards parents or children and it doesn't help much. From what I've interpreted, it's something to help ease anxiety and give your brain something to do while focusing on something but beyond that I am completely lost. A lot of autism tips say try stimming but fail to go into detail as to how and what, since many people have been able to grow up with help and education towards their autism so it's seen as common knowledge in the community. Other things I have no idea how to even go about is helping when my brain just freaks out. Like if something isn't done specifically and I break down and stuff. Its not the same as my OCD break downs and rituals. And hypersensitivity also. It is absolutely horrible and I have zero idea how to help that too, so if you know, I'd love to hear!!!!

Share your experiences, tips, and advice as well with autism and classes if you feel safe doing so. I would love to hear more about it all and would enjoy any advice y'all provide. I'm always looking for things to help!!!

#study blog #study hard #studyblr #school #student #student life #studying #productivity #autism tips #autistic adult #actually autistic #autistic life #autism #autism and school #learning #college tips

132 notes · View notes

boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

ain't it fun? | Part five

Summary: reader just needs an NA meeting before they have a meltdown, they end up with the best friend they could ever make.

Warnings: pregnancy, chronic illness, spencer's career chance - he's a high school teacher now, they have a 1-year-old, smut at the end but not graphic.

word count: 2.8k

a/n: I imagine this is in season 10, so they've been together at least 7 years-ish now, I just jumped well into the future because I wanted to! also, Cordelia's nickname is Edie and pronounced Ee-dee !!

P1 P2 P3 P4

“No.”

Spencer sighs, “are you going to like any of my suggestions?”

“When you give me a baby name that isn’t from some weird old male book character, then yes, I’ll take them into consideration,” she replies, hand on her stomach as she lays back against the pillows.

She was huge, 9 months pregnant and so, so close to the finish line. She was swollen and in pain and exhausted. Going off every single medication and recreational drugs to make a life was a commitment and a half, she was doing well but she was so ready to be done. To do a few more months of breastfeeding and then go back on her medications.

Spencer was terrific. He was googling and asking Penelope to research things, he had called doctors he knows and friends and did everything in his power to find a way to ease her pain even before they got pregnant. He’s taken the last 3 months off of work and he doesn’t know when he’ll go back. He has just been so, so incredible the whole time.

Naming a child was hard. You had to not only think about all the nicknames and what their initials spell, but you also had to think about how they’ll like it; if it’ll fit their personality and spirit. And most of all, is it going to get them bullied? There are some terrible kid names. Like Richard… how do you name a newborn Richard?

“I want something meaningful with a nice nickname and works with our names and her siblings,” she whispered towards him. “They need to all work together.”

“What are some of your favourites?” He asks, moving in closer and finding a way to cuddle in with her and her pregnancy pillow who has all but replaced him lately.

“I like earthy names, like Lennox, Juniper, Aspen, Elowen,” her voice is really soft, she bites her lip at the end as she thinks them over again. “And old things like Cordelia and Winnifred.”

“Which one sounds the best with Reid?”

“I like Cordelia Reid the most, and then we can call her Edie and I was thinking you can pick her middle name?” She’s been thinking about it for a while, but too afraid to know his opinions.

“Cordelia means core in Latin, which makes sense cause she already has my heart,” Spencer teased, he has made it very clear that their little girl is going to be spoiled, loved and a daddy's girl.

He took all his fears of being a bad dad and threw them out the window. He knew that just being there was all he wanted from his dad, and so that’s what he was going to do. He left the BAU for the time being, he was doing the odd lecture at the academy and answering calls for cases. They couldn’t just stop using his brain, there were some things too pressing to not ask the walking computer, but other than that, he was done.

He was looking into other jobs for when he finally decides to go back, he was unsure how long of a paternity leave he wanted. He was really content with just staying home all the time now, but he did miss going out and being useful during the days. The job he was most interested in, however, was a high school teacher.

A prep school in DC is looking into adding an Anthropology, Psychology and Sociology course to their curriculum, and they wanted Spencer. They thought he would be perfect for the seniors, he is fun and young and attentive, he can control a room and keep them entertained, and he’s probably the best teacher a kid could get.

It was going to make him a good dad too.

“I think Jade is a nice middle name,” he adds after thinking it over for a few minutes.

“Cordelia Jade Reid,” she says the full name for the first time and it just feels right, like they already know her.

—

She was very calm for a newborn baby.

She liked to just look around and blink, she licked her lips a lot and she was constantly breaking out of her swaddle. She was always happy to have cuddles with her dad and she pooped every night at exactly at 3 am, without fail. She didn’t cry a lot, but when she did it was still wonderful to hear.

They were so in love with her, she was absolutely perfect for them. She fit right into their sleeping schedule and their life, she ate like a pro, she slept most of the night and she was growing way too fast for their liking.

One day they’re crying over the fact they made a life in a tiny little hospital room, and the next thing they know she’s about to turn 1.

She’s sitting in bed with Y/N, she’s sitting in her lap with two handfuls of hair and a story to tell. She’s been babbling so much lately, she hears them talking all the time and she wants to join so badly. They indulge her, asking her to continue her thoughts and gasping at her gossip.

“No way, and what did you do next?!” She asked the little one sat in her lap.

Edie babbled on once more, smacking her tongue on the roof of her mouth as she pushed air past her vocal cords, humming and making the funniest sounds. She went on and on, she was so enthusiastic, like her father, as she waved her arms around to make her point.

“That is so fascinating, you are so cool, little Edie,” Y/N hyped her up, smiling at her as she leaned in close and pressed their noses together.

Cordelia laughed and it finally made Spencer giggle too, he had been watching from the doorway as his ‘wife’ and daughter talked in bed. They were best friends already, always talking and snuggling, learning or reading together. She was always happy when she was with one of them, she was needy and snuggly and very co-dependent but they didn’t mind, they preferred all the attention from her.

“Look who’s home,” Y/N whispered and Cordelia shot a glance towards the door, she smiled and screamed as she saw him.

“Hi Edie!” He waves at her with a smile, he takes his bag off and places it by the dresser followed by his blazer.

He gets into the bed and she instinctively reaches for a hug. He wraps her up and she snuggles right into his neck, with a fistful of his shirt, she just holds him there. She didn’t understand why he wasn’t home all day anymore, she missed him for lunch and at nap time but she loved the new routine of a snuggle when she woke up and he got home.

Spencer leans back against the pillows beside Y/N, turning his head to capture a kiss from her lips. They always just spend a quick second kissing when he gets home, even if it’s just a peck or a full-on passionate make-out, he always kisses her when he comes home. He smiles at the end of the kiss, pulling her into a hug too.

“I love Fridays,” he whispers, “Edie do you know what Fridays mean?”

She pulls away and sits up, she loves to listen to him. “Friday is the last day of the school week, which means I get to spend 2 whole days with my favourite people now.”

Edie smiled, almost like she understood what he meant, and then she was talking again, it was completely incomprehensible but they imagined she was telling him about her day.

“You forgot the part where we went to the park,” Y/N added.

Cordelia looked at her with wide eyes, “dada,” was the only word she said before babbling on again and they both stopped.

“Did she just?” Spencer was shocked and frozen still after asking.

Y/N sat up and looked right into Cordelia’s eyes, “who is that?” She pointed at Spencer.

“Dada!” She said it again and they were suddenly all squealing, even Cordelia was suddenly excited as she kept screaming dada over and over again.

“Can you say, mom? Or mama? Mummy?” Spencer tried his hardest to find an easy way for her to say it.

“Mumm,” she pushed her lips together to hum her M sound and Spencer was floored, he bounced her up and down a small amount as they cheered.

“Smartest girl in the world!” Spencer cheered her on before pulling her into another hug.

Y/N was crying softly, little tiny dreams that she didn’t even know she had were coming true every single day with them. She knew she wanted to be a mom when she was growing up, all those dreams died when her illness got worse and they all warned her that having kids would put her at risk of being moneyless and that working wasn’t an option to even support them. Let alone the threat of them taking them away just because of her autism or depression possibly being considered ‘too bad’ to care for them.

Spencer took all those fears and he kicked them out. Every day she got to experience the most precious gifts the world had to offer, her daughter was perfect and her husband was incredible. Together they were a perfect little family that ran on trust, love, and communication. Always talking, always hugging, always there for each other.

—

They crawl into bed much later than they expected to. Cordelia didn’t want to go to bed, she was trying her hardest to keep staying awake to spend time with them but eventually, sleep won. They finally placed her in her crib with her white noise and her complete darkness and closed her door for the next few hours of peace.

They both let out a deep sigh before rolling to face one another. “How was your day?” He asks, like always.

“Good,” she smiles, “I think having a kid and getting on her schedule was the best thing I’ve ever done actually, cause I’m sleeping on time, I’m eating when she does and I’m outside a lot more. She’s given me this purpose and it’s rewarding on my body.”

Spencer moves in so he can kiss her nose, “I love hearing that.”

“How was your class today?” She asks back, loving his little stories about all the 17 and 18-year-olds that were fascinated by him. As well as the kids who thought it was cool to try and pick on him before getting the shit verbally kicked out of them in front of the whole class.

It was interesting seeing him in a form of authority, he never really took charge at the BAU, she’s never seen him yell at his friends and he’s never really yelled at her either. He’s been incredibly calm, so to see him verbally tear someone apart by acknowledging their biggest flaws to make sense of why they feel the need to bully, it was pretty intense.

“They were a lot better today, they enjoyed the lesson and the kids that were giving me trouble skipped, I guess he really didn’t appreciate me calling him out that bad on Tuesday,” Spencer smirked, rolling his eyes like he cared.

“I still can’t believe that he thought it was okay to call you names in front of other students, where is the respect these days?”

“Well,” he’s about to do what he always does. He can never be truly mad at someone because he knows why everyone does what they do and that they can’t help it. “In his file, it says his parents are newly divorced, we get a list of all the kids information on the attendance like allergies and things, but also small info like life changes in case they act out.”

“Doesn’t mean he can call you the f slur,” she whispers, “all because you wore a purple shirt?”

“If I met his father I’d probably get an answer for that,” he adds, “if he’s afraid to show his emotions around his son, it’s probably why his son thinks colours are gay.”

It makes her laugh, “you look hot in purple too so I don’t see the problem?”

“Do I?” He teases, getting in even closer and pressing their bodies together.

She rolls her eyes before wrapping her arms around him and leaning forward for a quick kiss, “I think you look sexy all the time.”

He kisses her as a thank you, “I think the same about you.”

“Even when I haven’t showered in 2 days because she cries if she can’t see me and she cries if she gets wet?” Y/N laughed, annoyed but in love with their little monster at the same time.

“Always,” he reminds her. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she kisses him again after.

There are probably a million more things to share from the day, but they spend their time kissing instead. It’s been too long since they’ve just rolled around in the sheets making out like they did in the beginning. Before they ever had sex, before they had kids and a house and a love as strong as they do now.

A part of them missed the early days when everything was new and exciting, but she also loved the fact that they knew each other so well that they didn’t have to communicate anymore. They ran like 1 unit, always completing the other person's thoughts, needs and wants. They were so unbelievably happy.

She wants him badly and he wants her just as much, and he’s about to take her when she pulls back. “Nope, as much as I love her I can’t get pregnant again for at least another year.”

It makes him laugh as he pulls away and rolls over to look through his nightstand for a condom, “it wouldn’t be that bad?”

“You carry it then, seahorse it up,” she teased. “I like being back on my medicine, I need some time to be okay before I go through all that again.”

Once he’s all situated in the latex and back between her legs, he hovers over her, so close that their lips are touching ever so slightly. “I am fine if it’s just the three of us forever.”

“I’m not,” she smiles, “there will be 4 of us one day, just not today.”

With that, she’s pulling him into another kiss as he pushing inside. It’s a feeling she’s accustomed to but will never be used to, it’s a stretch that shouldn’t be as intoxicating as it is. She holds him closer as she plays with his tongue in her mouth.

He was so good at everything he did, especially the sex. He knew every single part of her body now and exactly how to push all her buttons the right way. She could live in the moment of his pumping in and out of her while his thumb circled her clit and his other hand groaned her breasts. Eventually, he kissed down her throat and she was a mess of breathy moans and low gasps.

Writing in the sheets, her legs wrap around him as she tried to pull him in even closer. It was impossible to get closer but he was still too far away, she wanted to absorb him and live in him forever. He was her safe place and she never wanted to be anywhere else.

As her orgasm bubbled, so did his. The both of them gasping and panting, she whined as she breached the edge and gripped his back, “Spence!”

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he whispered before fucking into her harder and faster, pushing her through it as he reached his own.

His movements on her clit never stopped and suddenly one felt like two and she wasn’t sure when the rush was going to stop and she didn’t care when it did. It was powerful, soothing and euphoric. A high she could live in for a while and return to it without problem as long as she had him.

He came with a small moan, trying to keep quiet as he muffled it into her neck, stilling his hips on his last thrust and dropping onto her more. Her hands were all over his back as she pressed kisses to his forehead, coming down but not wanting the love to stop there.

The love was never going to stop there for them. Their love was never-ending, and somehow as she held him there in her arms and felt his breath on his neck, she turned to see the baby monitor with their peaceful child sound asleep down the hall, she loved him even more now somehow.

Loving Spencer Reid was like falling down a bottomless pit. She never knew when she was going to reach the end, but she was content with falling.

smut taglist: @g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria@reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #aint it fun

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novelist-becca · 3 years

Text

TOH Fanfic recs! Part 1

(All of these people are my inspiration I stg)

Found family

Make my heart your home series by @tiredandjaded

First fic: Luz accidentally calls Eda "mom" and they both have a crisis over it. Mostly Luz. Second fic: post-YBOS, Luz tells Eda and Lilith of what happened during the rescue mission, and both Luz and Eda give Lilith a shovel talk. Third fic: Luz and Eda are both taking care of each other in the first seven days after coming home. Includes fun sibling bonding!

(Patiently awaiting the next chapter of the third installment!)

Literally anything by @hereforthehurts

The way they write emotions and hurt/comfort is seriously amazing. Never fails to make me cry, especially when it comes to sickfics and fics of Eda and Luz. (I recommend supporting them on Ko-Fi!)

You Are My Sunshine by @liesminelli

One of the first Owl House fics I ever read, and it's SO good! Luz has a night terror and Eda walks in on her freaking out, and it goes from there. The emotions of both characters are very well-written, and the ending is so sweet! I also recommend checking out their other works too!

It's The Least I Could Do by @witchesbeforewizardss

There aren't enough fics of Luz and Lilith bonding, and this is one of the BEST ones. Lilith needs more healthy relationships, and in my opinion, building an aunt-niece relationship with Luz is a great place to start! (next to making amends with Eda) Basically, Luz is feeling homesick, and before dinner, she allows Lilith to help her feel better.

Luz's Not So Great Luck and

A Friendly Beastly Surprise by @animerunner

The first fic has a large abundance of angsty scenarios, mostly AUs, all of which are wonderful to read. My personal favorite is the one where Luz is an orphan and she has a chronic illness, and well, you'll have to read to find out! The second one is canon compliant, and it's about Eda turning into the Owl Beast and treating Luz like an owlet, and Luz is just like "guess this is my life now". It's so cute!

Rainy Day Makeovers by @fallenflowersfromgrace

To summarize, There's boiling rain, and Luz convinces Eda to spend time with her giving each other makeovers. It's very cute, and I love it!

Some Honesty Before Breakfast by @pizzaboat

Eda notices Luz is acting unusual, and gets her to open up. It's in-character, and wonderfully executed.

Thank you for being in my life by @peridot-garcia

Episodes of The Owl House from Eda's perspective, and as of now, also Luz and Lilith's perspective. It's got wonderful found family scenarios, and so far the plot is pretty great!

Lighting up the Dark by The_Quoter

This is a very recent one, and I love it! It's post-Young Blood Old Souls, and Eda comes to terms with how much Luz means to her, while also helping her come out of a nightmare.

The Light Behind Your Eyes by ABirdinFlight

Post-Young Blood. Eda gives Lilith a shovel-talk (harsh but well-deserved) and has a heart-to-heart talk with Luz in her room.

Moonlit Masquerade: Replacement by Rohad

Similar to make my heart your home, Luz accidentally calls Eda "mom" and both of them have a crisis over it. (As expected!)

Bad Days by @drabbles-of-writing

Part of their Four Years AU, Luz has an episode, and Eda takes her home to help her calm down. It's very bittersweet and heartfelt.

Gratuitous Embellishments of Chicken Noodle Soup by Rulerofthecosmosandsnails

Luz almost drowns at the Knee, but her Owl Mom is there to help her get better, including making her soup! (Yeah, my fic Snow Day was inspired by this)

A Line Crossed by Clevinger

AU in which Luz dies by the spikes at the bridge, in front of Eda, who thankfully resurrects her, and as expected, Luz is having a hard time handling it. There's another work inspired by it called Too Much, Too Late by TheHonestyBird.

A nightmare and a hug by moreteaplease

Reeaaally hard to find since it doesn't have the relationship tag for Luz and Eda, but still, it's very good! Post-YBOS, Luz has a nightmare and goes to Eda for comfort, confessing that she misses her mom.

Sleepless Nights by @snail-watch

Similar to the one before this, Luz has a nightmare and goes to Eda for comfort. I loved the way the author wrote Eda's thoughts about Luz!

Mending Trust by @electricwalkman

Similar to The Light Behind Your Eyes. Eda puts Luz to bed, and Luz tells her about the portal being destroyed, and gives her the mask piece. Eda comforts her, as well.

Night Owl and

The Bad Dream Club by @thedrunkenwerewolf / @wolfiethewriter

Eda has trouble sleeping, Luz notices, and Eda confessed that she's scared of hurting Luz as the beast. Luz of course, reassures her by telling her it won't happen. The second fic is the other way around, sorta. Luz has a nightmare and gets herself a drink to calm down, and Eda finds her.

Dreams of a Witch by TheDinosaurNerd

Eda talks to her younger self in her mindscape about her life as a wild witch. (In the end it turns out to be Luz in her lap.)

Griffon Flu by @serendipitouslyss

Another great sickfic! Luz gets the flu, or Griffon Flu as it's called in the Boiling Isles, but Eda and King are more than willing to help her get better.

Owlet by spotty8bee

Ah, the cursed AU that started it all. Only 2 chapters, but it's wonderfully heartbreaking and you really feel for Eda in the second half of chapter 1.

Observations of the Witchy Kind by JoLau

If you like platonic cuddling, you'll love this fic! Luz wants to learn about witch biology, but unfortunately Boscha burns the notebook that had her research, so she tries to rewrite her observations, and ends up catching Eda's attention.

I Need You, Please Don't Leave Me by rainbowpotato12

Luz is having bad thoughts, and worries that something bad could happen to Eda again, but Eda reassures her it won't.

This is Home by SpaghettieBabie

Luz has doubts about herself, and opens up to Eda about it, confessing that she likes her as her mother figure.

I Love the Found Family Trope! by @l-egionaire

Takes place after The Intruder. Eda thinks that Luz and King might leave her after knowing about the curse, and they tell her they would never do that.

Nightmare by OneandOnlyOllie

Another nightmare fic! Eda comforts Luz after a nightmare. Lilith hears the two, and wants to make things right with Luz.

It was not, in fact, a day out by @pizzaboat

Post-YBOS. Eda turns into the Owl Beast, tries to cuddle Luz, Lilith and King in her nest, and they have to come up with a working scheme to turn her back. Basically The Intruder if Lilith was there.

A broken brain by @pizzaboat

I can relate to this one a lot (except my adhd is diagnosed). Luz has trouble focusing on homework, and doesn't know why, and tells Eda she thinks she's going crazy, but Eda tells her she's not, and that Lilith had a similar problem.

What big claws (to protect you with my dear) by @ito-itonomen

AU where Luz is 10 and Eda takes her in, and both of them have doubts about themselves. Chapter 2 is especially good.

Unexpected Hope by @sepublic

Luz talks to Lilith about how she had (surprisingly) inspired her.

Lilith and Eda

Mistakes Might Have Been Made by @fallenflowersfromgrace

WARNING: you will definitely cry in the second chapter!

An AU in which Lilith split the curse with Eda the first time she transformed. Of course, by the time she reveals that she cursed her, it doesn't go well. (Eda's reaction hurts, but it's in character) and the pain in chapter 2 is just…AGONY AND ITS SO GOOD!

Walk Through the Storm, I Would by @lilithswxfe

Trigger warning for self harm and suicidal thoughts in this fic.

Lilith tries to hurt herself while in a bad state, but Eda catches her and comforts her.

Source Decay series by @tiredandjaded

Trigger warning for underage drinking in the second fic.

Two pre-canon fics about Lilith and Eda, the first fic portraying Eda as trans and how she's feeling about her name, and how Lilith helps her. The second one is sadder, it's after the curse and Eda isn't taking Lilith coming home late very well, leading to some…not-so-great coping mechanisms.

Rabbit Heart by radiantstaber

It has found family Owl Mom moments, but then it is mostly about Lilith and Eda rebuilding their relationship, with Luz trying her best to encourage both of them. (The description is very funny, describing the Owl House as a get along shirt.)

The Cafeteria Incident by @electricwalkman

Remember that page from Eda's record about Eda summoning abominations because somebody stole Lilith's lunch money? This is based on that, and it's SO GOOD!

Runaway Raven by @witchesbeforewizardss

Trigger warning for graphic injuries

In both Lilith thinks she doesn't belong with her family in the Owl House, and tries to "punish" herself. Eda convinces her that it's not worth it and she just wants her sister back.

The Long Night by @serendipitouslyss

Post-YBOS, just like The Light Behind Your Eyes. Eda puts Luz to bed, and she and Lilith have a long talk. (Though she's not as harsh.)

A Midnight Talk by @elizabethemerald

Lilith sees Luz having a nightmare, and calms her down for a little bit (via stroking her hair). Eda sees her, and the two have a talk.

I Need a Moment to Quiet This Pain by @come-unhinged

Moments in Eda's life and how she dealt with her curse.

Part 2 might have Lumity idk

#long post #fanfic recommendation #fanfic #fanfiction #fic recs #the owl house #toh #owl house #the owl house fanfiction #found family #Luz noceda #eda clawthorne #edalyn clawthorne #Lilith clawthorne #Clawthorne sisters #eda the owl lady #eda the owl mom #mom Eda

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 3 years

Text

Dead Man’s Cell Phone--Chapter 2

Summary: When Emma Swan starts getting phone calls and texts from an unfamiliar number, she decides to check it out–only to discover the number belongs to a Killian Jones, who was killed in a robbery gone wrong six months ago. With some help from a medium, Merlin Emrys, Emma hopes to find out why a dead guy is contacting her–and why she feels such a strong pull to someone she has never met before.

Rating: K+

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26 @bethacaciakay @ultraluckycatnd @effulgent-mind @ilovemesomekillianjones@kat2609 @brooke-to-broch @missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @daxx04 @nickillian @a-rose-for-a-savior@in-spirational @gillie @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst@kmomof4 @linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @laughswaytoomuch@allyourdarlingswans @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 @cssns @therooksshiningknight, @lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree @eastwesthomeisbest @dreamingdreamsalways @xsajx @justren21 @laughterandbooks @cocohook38 @therealstartraveller776

Welcome to my entry for the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer! A big thank you to @cssns, the ladies on the Discord! Thank you also to @eastwesthomeisbest, my artist and my beta @veryverynotgood!

Other Chapters: Prologue 1 3 4 Epilogue

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"So after the phone calls, the text messages started coming," Emma said, settling into her best friend's plush sofa.

"Texts?" Mary Margaret asked curiously before taking a sip of her tea. "What kind of texts?"

It felt like Emma had known Mary Margaret forever. Both girls were placed in the system at young ages-Emma, because her parents abandoned her on the side of a road as an infant, and Mary Margaret, because her parents both died of illness. They ended up in the same group home, and quickly became the best of friends. They were closer than sisters until the day Mary Margaret was adopted by Cora Mills, and then eventually, Emma was fostered by Ruth Nolan.

Even after being placed with other families, Emma and Mary Margaret kept in touch-letters, phone calls, even the occasional visit. On one such visit, Emma's foster brother, David, was home from college, and as soon as he and Mary Margaret met, it was love at first sight.

They were so in love it was honestly a bit nauseating.

When they got married fresh out of college, Emma couldn't be happier. She'd always considered Mary Margaret her sister in all the ways that counted, and now they truly were.

There was no doubt about it - Mary Margaret Nolan was the person Emma was closest to in the entire world, and so it was only natural that when the weird stuff with the cell phone started happening, Emma decided to discuss it with her.

"Weird ones," Emma answered, taking a sip of her own hot cocoa with cinnamon. "Stuff like Help! or You're the only one who can save me!. And then some of them were even stranger. Just...random letters and symbols, almost like someone was randomly pressing buttons on a keyboard."

"So what did you do?" Mary Margaret asked, sitting on the other side of the sofa and turning toward Emma.

Emma shrugged. "I tried answering at first. You know, you hear about people who are abducted and, like, stuck in a basement for years and stuff like that. I kept thinking, what if someone really needed help and I just...ignored them?"

"And what happened when you answered?" Mary Margaret asked.

"Nothing," Emma answered before taking another sip. "No answer, just another cryptic text several hours later. Finally, I decided I'd had enough. Either someone needed help, or someone was messing with me. I decided I'd call the number, decide whether I needed to help them or tell them to go f-" She stopped, glancing over at Mary Margaret's toddler playing with blocks nearby. "Well, go do something not at all child-friendly to themselves."

"Let me guess, your call didn't get through."

"Nope," Emma confirmed, "but it was even weirder than that. I dialed the number just after receiving a text, but it went directly to voicemail."

"But that's not possible!" Mary Margaret exclaimed.

"Right?" Emma said. "So I tried to ignore the whole thing. Maybe the phone was just...I don't know..glitching or something, although I don't know how a technological glitch could make phone calls and text someone. Anyway, for some reason, I just can't let go. Even though I don't know him, somehow I feel a...connection...to this Killian Jones. I just-I don't know what to do about it."

Mary Margaret was silent for a moment, taking several sips of her steaming beverage, before turning back to Emma with a cautious look in her eyes. "There is...there is another possibility, if you have an open mind."

"Just how open are we talking?"

"Pretty open," Mary Margaret said. "What if-and just hear me out, I know this is crazy-what if Killian Jones is contacting you from beyond the grave."

"What, like a ghost?"

Mary Margaret shrugged. "I mean, I know it sounds crazy, but why not? One of the other teachers I work with was talking about this medium. His name is Merlin Emrys. Supposedly he can contact the dead and see ghosts and stuff like that."

"A medium? Seriously?" Emma asked, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. "Mary Margaret, you know those people are frauds. It's all about researching their marks ahead of time and then cold reading them. They're only in it to bleed as much cash out of vulnerable people as possible."

"I know it sounds crazy," Mary Margaret conceded, "but what if it's not? I've thought about going to him myself. If I could just talk to my parents one more time-make sure they're okay, make sure they've moved on, or whatever happens after someone dies. Well, it would provide a lot of comfort."

Emma's heart turned over, and she took her friend's hand. She knew how much Mary Margaret missed her parents. It was different for Emma. She'd never known her parents, only knew they'd tossed her out like garbage. She wasn't sure she even wanted to find them.

"I know you miss them," Emma said.

"I do," Mary Margaret said, "but that's not the point. The point is...what do you have to lose? Maybe this Merlin is just a quack like you said, but maybe not. Maybe he could be the key to unravelling the whole mystery."

Emma was silent for a moment. It was crazy; she knew it was. A medium wasn't going to give her the answers she needed if all her bail bonds tricks had failed her, but what the hell?

"Fine. I'll go see Merlin," Emma caved.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma's eyebrows rose as she took in the small, ranch-style house Mary Margaret had directed her to. She was skeptical before seeing the place, but now-now red flags were going up everywhere.

There was a huge, gaudy sign out front that read "Merlin, the great and powerful. Wizard of the unknown and medium of the great beyond." The sign-indeed the entire front of the house-was decorated with all kinds of astrological signs and symbols.

Was this guy even for real?

Emma seriously considered turning around and getting back in her car, but she'd promised Mary Margaret she'd at least check this Merlin out and give him a chance, and Emma was a woman of her word. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

A moment later, an older man with longish, thinning gray hair and a rather unkempt gray beard opened the door. He was wearing long robes. Really playing the part, apparently.

"Merlin Emrys, I presume?" Emma asked as the man welcomed her inside with a sweep of his hand.

The man chuckled. "I'm afraid not. I'm merely his apprentice. Who might I tell Merlin is calling?"

Emma cocked an eyebrow. "You mean your all powerful boss didn't see me coming with his second sight or whatever?"

Emma stepped inside and the apprentice shut the door after her. "My master isn't clairvoyant. He merely has the ability to speak with the dead."

"Right," Emma said, not even trying to tamp down the skepticism in her voice. "I'm Emma Swan, and I'm here to-"

He stopped her with a raised hand. "Don't say too much. Merlin does not wish to be influenced by his clients. He wishes to sense the energy around you for himself."

Emma shrugged. "Sorry."

"It's quite alright," the apprentice said, moving toward large drapes at the far end of the room. "I'll be just a moment. Please, make yourself comfortable."

Emma looked around the room while she waited, and it took everything in her to keep from rolling her eyes. This guy was really playing up the whole "psychic" thing. It felt like she was in some sort of fortune teller carnival tent. All the signs and symbols. This guy even had a crystal ball. An actual crystal ball.

This trip was a massive waste of her time, but maybe it would at least prove to be entertaining.

"Emma Swan, welcome!"

Emma looked up at the handsome black man who made his way through the curtains. He was dressed in much the same way as his apprentice, only he wore a sorcerer's pointy hat on his head.

"Uh, thanks," Emma said, stepping forward and offering her hand. "Full disclosure. I'm more than a little bit of a skeptic, so if this is one of those 'it can only work if you truly believe' deals, we might have a problem."

"My gift can withstand the doubts of the skeptic," he chuckled before reaching out and taking her hand.

No sooner had his hand touched hers than he gasped, taking a step back, eyes going wide. "Would you-would you care to follow me back to my private sitting room, Miss Swan? It's far more comfortable back there."

Emma cocked a brow again, wondering what this odd man was on about. Still, she didn't sense any overt deception in him, and he didn't seem to be any threat to her, so she shrugged before following him through the curtains.

This backroom was far more ordinary than the room they'd just inhabited. Emma took a plush armchair, and Merlin sat on a sofa across from her.

Merlin pulled off his hat and sat it beside him. "I apologize for all the theatrics, Miss Swan," he said, reaching for a pot of tea and then raising an eyebrow in question. Emma declined the beverage with a small shake of her head, and Merlin proceeded to pour himself a cup. "I attempt to play up to what most clients expect from a psychic. Unfortunately, most poor souls who come to see me are out of luck. The loved one they wish to contact has passed on. For most, all I can do amounts to smoke and mirrors. I could tell the moment I shook your hand that you were different."

Emma inwardly scoffed. She knew enough about cons not to be fooled by a clever con man. Made sense he'd use a different tactic with a skeptic than he would with some poor, grief-stricken sap who was a true believer.

"No offense, but I still think you're full of crap," she said.

Merlin smiled. "It seems those with the most energy surrounding them always do."

"So, what?" Emma asked. "Are there ghosts all around me or something?"

"There are a few spirits here with us today," Merlin confirmed. "There's one who's quite insistent. It's a man; looks as though he died rather young. I don't sense he's family, but you were close. Maybe coworkers? Perhaps friends?"

Emma took a deep breath, a face coming to mind. Surely he couldn't mean-

"I'm getting a G in the name," Merlin said slowly. "Greg or Gray….no. Graham."

Emma's heart turned over. Graham. Sweet, slightly dorky Graham Humbert. They'd worked together on more than a few cases, and they'd become good friends.

In fact, they'd been teetering on the precipice of possibly becoming more than friends when he died suddenly.

"How did you know to mention Graham? How did you know that name would get the biggest rise out of me?" Emma demanded, voice hard.

"I don't choose the spirits who come to me," Merlin explained calmly, "I merely give them a voice. Graham is pleased to see you again. He's glad you're doing well."

The anger came then, spurred on by the pain the memory of Graham's death brought back. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"He died quite suddenly, didn't he?" Merlin asked, ignoring her question. "I'm feeling a tightness in my chest. Something with his heart?"

"Heart attack," Emma confirmed tightly. "He had a heart attack right in front of me and died in my arms."

"He's sorry, so very sorry you had to go through that," Merlin said, putting a comforting hand on her arm. "He never wanted to be a source of pain for you."

Emma felt the tears at the back of her eyes and had to take a deep breath to keep them from falling. "Yeah, well, he didn't exactly have a say in the matter. Look, I don't know how you knew to bring up Graham, but I'm still not buying it."

"He apologizes he couldn't bring you a bear claw today," Merlin continued with a smile. "Oh, and he asks if you remember the day he thought he saw a wolf. He wants you to know he wasn't drunk. It really was there-in spirit at least."

Emma gasped, remembering the night she and Graham had gone to the Rabbit Hole for a drink after a long shift and Graham swore he spotted a big, gray wolf right there on the main street of town. Emma had made fun of him for that, telling him he'd clearly imbibed a bit too much that night. There's no way Merlin could have known about that incident. He couldn't have found it in any newspaper or online article about Graham's death.

Was it...was it possible this guy was the real deal?

"Okay, I admit, it's weird you'd bring that up," Emma said. "Let's say I believe you, can you ask Graham if he's okay? If he, like, moved on or whatever?"

"You just asked him," Merlin said. "He's here with us and can hear you. He wants to tell you that he is okay. He's more than okay; he's happy. He's moved on, and he's at peace, more than he could have ever thought possible."

Emma smiled, feeling comfort at the thought.

"There's someone else here with us as well," Merlin said. "Another male presence, but I don't believe you know this one. This one seems angry, desperate."

"Um...should we be scared?" Emma asked.

Merlin shook his head. "He doesn't mean us harm, only wants his story told. He's too indistinguishable to speak now, but I sense he'll be accompanying us on our journey today as well."

Wonderful. An angry, desperate ghost guide. Just fantastic.

"So, Emma," Merlin said, after a moment, "what brings you to me tonight?"

Emma pulled out her phone and laid out the entire story for Merlin. She told him about the calls, the texts, everything. Merlin took her phone in hand and gasped as soon as it touched his hand.

"There is a huge amount of energy here," he said. "There's no doubt a spirit has attached itself to you-or at least your phone."

Emma felt a chill. "My phone is haunted?"

"Not precisely," Merlin murmured, turning the device over in his hand. "Someone wishes to get your attention; wishes for you to help him, but there's something odd here, something I can't quite place."

"What do you mean?"

"The spirit is...indistinct," Merlin said, "hazy and just beyond my reach. I've never experienced anything like this."

Emma waited, her curiosity more than piqued at Merlin's odd reaction to her cell phone.

After a moment, Merlin's eyes widened. "Your friend Graham cleared up the mystery for me."

"What?" Emma asked. "What does Graham say is going on?"

"The reason I can't get a clear read on the spirit attached to your phone-this Killian Jones-is, well, because he's not dead."

Notes:

-So there you have it. For those of you who have wondered how this story could possibly have a happy ending since Killian is dead-this is how. He's not actually dead!

-Up next: With Merlin's help, Emma finds out how this is all possible-and she finds the not-dead Killian Jones.

Next Chapter-->

#cssns21 #captain swan supernatural summer #my franfiction #cs ghost story au #dead man's cell phone

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bosspigeon · 3 years

Text

not if it's you

Prompt: Day One: Cooking, Day Two: Cuddling💕 Pairing: Mason/Male Detective Words: 3293 Summary: Mason is sick. Mason's not supposed to get sick, but magic tends to not give a shit if you're a big, tough vampire man with a reputation to maintain. A prompt fill for @wayhavensummer that I wasn't sure I'd finish, but I'm glad I decided to. I combined two prompts into one, along with the inclusion of the bonus challenge, "love languages!" Juni's love language is Acts of Service~ CW for emetophobia. Nothing actually happens, but it is discussed!

“I’m not a vampire, Mason,” Juni said to him when he clicked on the lamp on his dresser and Mason growled loudly in protest. “I’m sorry, but I can’t see in the dark.”

Mason's growl became a long, low groaning noise as he dragged a pillow over his face. It helped more than he cared to admit, being immediately plunged into soothing darkness and smothered in the warm, sweet scent of the detective buried in his pillow.

Still, he feels like absolute shit.

The illness should run its course in just a few days, from what Juni’s relayed to him about Nate’s research—since he won’t leave Juni’s apartment (he’s not going to say can’t, because that implies weakness, implies that he couldn’t even if he wanted to, and he could, he just won’t, and that’s all there is to it) until he’s well, and refuses to go crawling to the Agency when he just needs to wait things out.

If he went to the Agency, he’d just be “waiting things out” the same as he is there, only he’d be doing it alone in a stiflingly empty observation room, bored out of his fucking skull until someone decided to come poke at him for science. At least here, he’s got Juni fussing over him.

It’s sort of… nice, being fussed over.

And Juni would be fussing whether Mason was here or not. He’d probably be driving himself crazy with worry, making himself sick with it, if Mason were stuck at headquarters without him, and the thought of that makes Mason feel even worse than he already does. It’s really best for the both of them that the vampire is here, buried in a metric fuckton of blankets (because even if he feels like he’s going to burn alive, the second he leaves them the sweat cools on his skin and leaves him trembling) looking into the blank, beady eyes of a patchwork plush cat.

His entire body aches, throbbing dully from the top down, but he reaches out with a heavy arm and turns it around so it’s not fucking staring at him anymore.

Juni’s been gone for a while, but Mason can hear him over the low ringing in his ears, puttering around in the kitchen. His senses are weakened by the bizarre magical illness Juni’s likened to the flu after hearing the symptoms, but he hears the detective humming quietly to himself, smells some spices and herbs he’s too exhausted to bother identifying over the low thrum of something metallic and familiar.

Mason's stomach growls at the same moment it churns. Hungry, but the very thought of consuming anything, blood included, makes him feel nauseous.

He doesn't know how Juni managed to sweet-talk Adam into handing over Mason's blood rations for the few days it would take this sickness to work its way through his body, but it makes him faintly irked he'll have to disappoint the detective when he tells him he doesn't even think his traitorous stomach can handle it, no matter how hungry he is. Juni always looks so pitiful when he can't help, soft doe eyes and pouty mouth and genuine, heartfelt distress rolling off him in waves. Mason groans into the pillow and comforts himself by drawing another detective-scented breath deep into his lungs.

And then Juni knocks on the doorframe (of his own fucking bedroom, because he's ridiculous, and Mason's chest squeezes) and calls, "Still alive in here?" softly teasing, his voice carefully lowered in deference to Mason's throbbing skull.

He makes a rough noise and tosses aside the pillow, because the only thing better than being buried in Juni-perfumed sheets is taking in the scent of him right from the source.

Juni always looks so different when he's at home. He relaxes, softens, like a bird coming to roost. His shoulders aren't so tense, his eyes stop darting like he's waiting for an attack (something Mason noticed even before Juni was actually under attack every other week) and he just, he looks settled and safe. After the shit he’s been through, he deserves to feel safe.

He opens his mouth to say something, but Mason just awkwardly squirms his way out of the blankets to free his arms enough to reach out.

"C'mere," he grunts.

Juni laughs, and the way his cheeks curve, the way they make his eyes crinkle at the corners, makes Mason hate whatever magic bullshit allowed him to get sick in the first place with a burning fury that feels like it's immolating him from the inside.

Or maybe that's the fever.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Juni teases when Mason growls. It's not as fierce as he hoped it would be, which is more than obvious when Juni only smiles indulgently at him.

He perches on the edge of the bed and smooths a hand over Mason's clammy forehead, making a soft, commiserating cooing noise. Mason wants to be annoyed, wants to growl again, complain about being coddled, but the sound that comes out of him is not a growl, or a curse, but a soft moan. He pushes up into Juni’s hand and closes his eyes.

“You’re still burning up,” Juni sighs, sinking his fingers into the vampire’s hair and scratching at his scalp. He moans again, lower and rougher. A little awkwardly, he adds, “Nate said you should, y’know, drink something.”

Mason’s stomach turns, and he grits his teeth and shakes his head.

“Mason.”

He shakes his head again, turning his face into the pillow again when it starts to make him dizzy. He wants to break something. He feels so pitiful.

“Mason, you’re not gonna get better if you don’t—”

“You ever seen someone puke blood, detective?” he snaps. Juni’s hand retracts sharply, and Mason keeps his eyes closed. He doesn’t want to see the hurt streaking across that soft, expressive face. “It’s not pretty,” he adds gruffly, and it takes all the strength in his flagging body to roll over and turn his back.

Juni’s quiet for a long moment, before soft fingers are sliding into his hair again,rubbing at the nape of his neck. “I had kind of a weird idea that might help, if you think you can stop pouting long enough to hear me out,” he says.

“You sure know how to sweet-talk a guy, huh?” Mason grumbles, but his body, an aching knot of sweaty tension, starts to slowly loosen up under the gentle petting.

Juni goes quiet again, and then, with a little laugh, he says, “Would it make you feel better if I told you you’re really cute when you’re all whiny?”

“How fucking dare you,” he snarls impotently into the pillow.

Juni laughs, and when Mason rolls over again to glower at him, he snorts trying to stifle it. “Do you want to hear my idea or not?”

“Not exactly in any position to stop you, am I?” Mason scoffs.

The detective pokes his nose. “Nope!” Mason nips at his finger, but his reflexes aren’t exactly great at the moment, and Juni just pulls it back with a smile. “I wanted to ask before I, like, ruined one of your blood rations for a weird experiment, but I’ve been doing research on different recipes that use blood—” “Why?” Mason interjects.

Juni flounders a bit, shoulders drawing up to his ears. “I… Well, I know you don’t like to eat human food, for good reasons, but sometimes I can convince Felix and Adam to try stuff I make, and Nate likes to eat sometimes, and I like… I like cooking for people? And I can’t really do that for you, because I know how overwhelming your senses can be, but you’ve said they’re kind of dull right now, so I thought maybe I could make, well… sort of a blood soup?"

Mason blinks at the detective.

Juni nervously babbles on to fill his befuddled silence. "If I thinned it out with a mild broth, I figured it would go down easier. And I know ginger is really strong on its own, but it also settles the stomach, and with the blood and the broth, it might help? I thought about adding some other things, but I tried to be picky with it, because even if your senses are dulled, I don't want to overwhelm you."

Mason chews it over, and even though he can tell his silence is making Juni nervous with every second that ticks by (fidgety, fussy, open and honest to a goddamned fault, a ball of nerves Mason wants to drag into bed and shield from the world) he can't really think of much to say, except, "Sure. Why the fuck not?"

"That's okay! I figured it was a long shot anyway, and—" Juni freezes, his knee-jerk anxious capitulation cutting off like he’s run into a brick wall. "What?"

"I'm already overwhelmed, sweetheart," Mason groans, and honestly, even talking is getting exhausting, his aching throat protesting every word he can manage to eke out. He wants Juni closer, wants to bury his face in his neck and hide like a wounded animal crawling its way home. "It honestly can't get worse at this point. If you think it'll help, I'll try it."

Juni still looks stunned, but is also clearly jangling with nervous excitement. Nate's used the term "puppyish enthusiasm" before when describing the way Juni lights up when he's actually able to help, and it's almost comically accurate.

Juni's bolted from the room before Mason's sluggish brain has a chance to even process the humor at the observation into a snort.

He's alone again, and if Juni were still here, he'd call what Mason's doing pouting, but he's scowling, damn it. Not that anyone's around to see it save for Juni's stuffed animals. He pulls the pillow to his chest, half-burying himself underneath the blankets again. He keeps his foggy focus stretched far enough to hear Juni in the kitchen again, making a game effort not to clatter around noisily and failing spectacularly. It's the thought that counts, Mason supposes.

It doesn't actually take all that long for him to come back, but it still feels like ages with how shitty Mason feels. He's painfully aware of every single ache in his body, radiating down to his bones, of the fever burning him up, the mutinous turning of his stomach even as it gnaws itself apart with hunger. He’s becoming so bogged down in the prison his ailing body has become, he almost doesn’t notice Juni pattering his way back into the room. Almost.

The second he crosses the threshold, Mason senses are honing in on everything they can about him, his smell, his warmth, the way his cozy sweater (it’s midsummer, for fuck’s sake, and sure the AC is cranked due to Mason’s fever, but it always is, because Juni’s body regulates temperature like a goddamned lizard and he hates the heat almost more than Mason does) makes him look soft and touchable. It takes him a long while to even notice the detective is carrying a tea tray with a bowl on it, as well as a glass of water, and when he does, he’s honestly not sure what to make of the smell.

Human food is overwhelming, usually. But usually, Mason’s sinuses aren’t swollen and borderline useless. Juni is walking as carefully as he can, and there is a palpable relief when he sets the tray down on his bedside table without incident. “I made the broth already, because I didn’t want it to take too long if you said yes. It actually smells, like, really good? Is that gross of me to say?”

Mason tries to push himself upright, and his muscles protest loudly enough that he can’t quite bite back a grunt of pain. Juni makes a sound like he’s been shot, and his hands are on Mason with an urgency that vibrates through his skin. Still, his touch is an instant balm to the vampire’s overwrought senses, his hands gentle as they ease him upright and fussily pile pillows behind him to support him. It fucking sucks to be so weak, but at least it’s only Juni seeing him like this. He can’t quite express why, when it feels like his head’s stuffed full of cotton, but he thinks it would suck a lot more if he were riding this out alone, or in a sterile room at HQ. He lolls his head towards Juni, his cheek smashing against one of a half-dozen goddamned pillows piled around him, and laughs weakly. “Gonna feed me too, Nurse Fenn?”

Juni blushes, and the usual rush of his blood doesn’t smack Mason in the face like usual, but it washes over him in a gentle wave of warmth, that tempting smell tickling the back of his tongue. “Do you need me to?” he asks, and it’s pretty clear he’s trying to make it sound teasing, but it comes out much more earnest than anything else.

Mason almost wants to say yes, but he also doesn’t want Juni to be in the splash zone if his stomach decides it can’t handle the detective’s little experiment. “Nah, I got it,” he grunts, reaching for the tray. It trembles dangerously when his shaking hands lift it, but Juni’s quick to steady it and guide it to his lap. He mutters a quiet thanks, and Juni mercifully doesn’t rib him for his uncharacteristic politeness. “You’d make a cute nurse, detective,” he says to cover the strangely loaded silence.

Juni laughs and sits on the edge of the bed, close but not quite touching. “I’m too squeamish,” he offers with a shrug that rubs their shoulders together.

“You just made me soup out of blood,” Mason says dully.

“I also have a borderline breakdown giving myself the same shot I’ve been giving myself every week for the last decade,” Juni retorts. “Do you really think I could do it for someone else?”

Mason snorts. “Probably not. Would kill to see you in one of those little dresses, though.”

The only thing protecting Mason from getting a hilariously ineffectual swat on the shoulder is the bowl of soup in his lap. He’s not even sure his current feeble condition would be enough to stop Juni otherwise. “Eat your soup, asshole,” Juni groans, covering his burning face with his hands. He peeks through his fingers after a moment’s hesitation, “And maybe I’ll show you the Halloween costume Tina got me as a joke a couple years ago when you’re feeling better.”

Mason’s whole body reacts to that, and he can’t be sure if the chill that rolls down his spine is due to the illness, or something else entirely. If nothing else, choking down some soup will be worth it, just for that promise.

The first spoonful goes down surprisingly easy. He doesn’t really taste much, at first, not even the coppery tang of blood. It’s thin, as Juni promised, so it doesn’t quite coat his mouth the same way fresh, raw blood would. Juni’s watching him with obvious concern, eyebrows scrunched together and plush bottom lip caught between his teeth. Either concern that Mason’s body is going to reject it fully, or he just won’t fucking like it. Probably both.

“It’s not too hot, is it?” Juni asks, touching Mason’s knee lightly through the blanket. He swallows his mouthful hard and bites down the urge to ask the human not to stop touching him.

“S’fine,” he grunts, trying to parse what exactly he makes of it at all. The warmth feels nice, soothing his raw throat. He takes another bite. He thinks he can sort of make out the individual spices underneath the taste of the blood and the broth (slightly watered down bone broth, he;d guess) but he can’t really smell them either. The ginger, at least, is obvious. He knows the smell enough to guess the taste, even with the complete lack of culinary experience. It’s, strangely enough, not horrible. It does taste mostly like thinned-out blood, which is weird, and gives him a sense of dissonance from the texture he expects blood to have. “Weird.”

Juni doesn’t seem to take offense to that. “Well, you’re not spewing it across the room like you’re possessed, at least, so weird is better than bad?” he laughs, squeezing Mason’s knee. “How’s your stomach?”

Mason takes a second to consider. “Not great, but not terrible.”

Juni almost deflates with relief. “And the taste? It’s not too much, is it? I can be kind of heavy-handed with my seasoning, so I tried to be really careful. It’s really only a pinch of salt, sage, and ginger, with a little bit of licorice root, which I know is kind of weird, but it’s good for sore throats?”

“Tastes like…” Mason screws up his face, realizing he has absolutely no context to work with. “I don’t know. I think I like it?”

Juni smiles like the goddamned sun, and it somehow makes his snarky little pet name for Mason that much funnier. “Really?”

Mason’s not sure he’d be saying the same thing if his senses weren’t dulled to near-uselessness by his traitorous body, but the way Juni looks, like he couldn’t be happier to be dealing with a sick, cranky vampire hogging his bed and sweating in his sheets, makes him bite his tongue. There’s always a brightness to the human when he brings food to the warehouse for Nate and Felix, he smiles so wide his face almost cracks when Adam crumples under the weight of those puppy eyes and takes the smallest portion of whatever concoction Juni’s brought to nibble on, and offers the most awkward compliment he can manage. Juni just likes doing things for people, providing for them any way he can. Food is his usual go-to, but if he can help at all, he’s happy.

I can’t really do that for you.

It almost makes Mason wish he could enjoy whatever the detective whips up in his cramped little kitchen, just to make him smile.

Christ, his brain must be more addled than he thought.

He manages a few more spoonfuls of soup before his stomach starts to feel uncomfortably full, but the gnawing hunger of going too long without drinking has gone away, and he doesn’t feel so much like he’s going to puke like he did earlier. He feels heavy, and tired, and honestly that’s one hell of an improvement. Juni’s quick to take the tray and spirit it off back to the kitchen, bending to press a quick kiss to Mason’s cheek before he goes, and when he returns, the vampire is slumped in his pillow nest and half-asleep, eyes shuttered to thin slits.

He feels more than he sees Juni approach, and when a gentle hand smooths over his clammy forehead, he pushes up into it with a raw, weak noise he has zero energy to be embarrassed by anymore. He reaches out blindly, tangles his fingers in the knit of his detective’s sweater, and tugs. He can’t be sure how it happens, a jumble of movement and complaining muscles, but Juni winds up in bed with him, slouched comfortably against the pillows so Mason can rest his head on the soft curve of his belly. The human plays idly, sweetly with his hair, twirling damp curls around his fingers.

“I’m sweaty,” Mason halfheartedly protests. Juni’s stomach rises and falls beneath his head. It feels like being on the ocean, like being rocked to sleep on quiet waves.

“I don’t mind,” Juni murmurs, thumb stroking the shell of his ear.

Before he can think of anything to say to that, he’s being pulled under, dozing off between one breath and the next.

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