Aftermath!AU - Blog Posts

GUYS PLEASE CHECK THIS STORY OUT! It's short and totally worth reading!

Going to be honest, the depictions of suffocation and blood were on point and made me smile (BECAUSE IT WAS WELL-WRITTEN NOT BECAUSE RAY IS SUFFERING NO)

The whole "first person" view makes it even more thrilling!! And the wrap up at the end just seems content! Especially since all of this in Ray's perspective!!

Anyway, I hope more fic will be written in the future!!! (I'll be trying to write more, that's for sure)

For The Mind & Lungs

A short Ray/Hudson fic for the Aftermath AU!

Depiction of choking/suffocating + blood! It isn’t very graphic, but the themes are still dark!!

I can’t breathe.

I try to take a breath, but I’m just gasping for air, my lungs never satisfied.

They ache and burn.

I can’t scream either. My voice is muted and dull, like it was just taken away from me.

Maybe it’s because I can’t. BREATHE.

It’s his fault. Who’s fault? I look around, but I can’t see anything. Why can’t I see anything?

Smoke. There’s too much smoke. It clouds my vision; fills my lungs. It stings my eyes, making them water, and now I can’t tell if I’m crying because it hurts or because I’m terrified.

My hand grasps at my chest, pulling at the fabric of my shirt. It feels wet. Warm. I glance down.

My hand is stained red, so is my shirt. Red blossoms from my chest, reaching across the white fabric.

I liked this shirt, I think past the buzzing of other noises echoing in my head. But it’s ruined now. It was white and I don’t want a red shirt.

By now my lungs have found enough air to send me spiraling into a coughing fit, and suddenly I’m doubled over, my chest and stomach heaving uncontrollably. I feel nauseous. The coughing is making me gag, so is the smell of all this smoke.

Everything is so overwhelming. My body is failing me. Tears are spilling out of my eyes and down my cheeks as I helplessly gasp for air past the ragged wheezing. I’m dying.

I’m dying.

I feel soft cloth pressing against my skin as I sit up so quickly it’s dizzying.

I’m still gasping for air, but now it’s not because the room’s full of smoke, my heart is just beating out of my chest. I’m in a cold sweat and I’m shaking like crazy.

Through all of the panting and buzzing in my ears, I hear my name. Soft and confused, a voice I would recognize anywhere.

He asks if I’m okay, and I can tell any response I give will convey a “no” even if I say I am.

I nod and close my eyes for a moment, trying to steady my breathing. I let him pull me in; nod once more when he asks me if it was another nightmare.

We’ll talk about it later, but for now I just assure him that I’m okay, he should go back to sleep. He holds me in his arms, which feels weird considering I’m usually the one doing that. It’s nice though.

He’s still concerned, but he’s also half-asleep, so he goes along with it as I settle back down. He wraps an arm around me and I rest my head on his chest, staring into the room as I think about other things to distract myself.

Chores. Comic ideas. I repeat the steps to make a paper chrysanthemum in my head and I’m already drifting off by the third flower.

I feel bad for waking him. Even worse that it’s become so normal he doesn’t even look surprised anymore. But he cares.

And they’re all just dreams anyway.