#But it never ends well when the doctor gets attached to their face

[enyaliuswrites]

➽ Love and Deepspace Hogwarts AU

Multiple characters x gn!reader tags: fluff, reader doesn’t have to be mc, Hogwarts au, Harry Potter AU, reader doesn't have to be in a relationship with character but it is slightly implied

Gryffindor. I mean he’s basically a knight in shining armor, brave and bold. He literally left everything and fought everyone and fate just to save MC. 

Like in my college au, Xavier can always be found sleeping in random places. Outside near the broom shed or even near the Forbidden Forest, because “nobody would bother him there” (He got into a lot of trouble).

He’s always the last one to arrive for dinner and always the last to leave, because the food was too good and we know how big of a foodie Xavier is, and also because he kept nearly falling asleep. 

Xavier also definitely flies up on his broom to some rooftop and just sleeps there. He gets into trouble a lot, but this doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about his house. Xavier, although he keeps a low profile, he’ll score perfect scores on his exam, and although occasionally mess up his potions—because he fell asleep—he’ll still get it right in the end. 

As much as he gets into trouble and loses points for Gryffindor, he always earns back more than he loses. Also he has no doubt that others in his house will eventually earn it back as well. He’s a student that keeps his profile low-key, doesn’t gather much attention apart from some girls in his class having a crush on him because of his good looks, but other than that he tries to keep a low profile and keeps to himself. 

Xavier picked a cat for his companion on a whim but now he’s really attached to his cat. Like himself, his cat has white fur, and big blue eyes. When you find one sleeping the other one must be sleeping nearby as well. 

Ravenclaw. Well it’s kind of obvious, he’s yearning for knowledge and also is a very high overachiever. However, I also believe he could be a Hufflepuff because he’s quite humble and down-to-earth. As well as the domestic and homey interactions with MC. But for the sake of this I’ll put him in Ravenclaw.

Zayne can either be found in the library or in the Ravenclaw Tower with his nose in a book. He’ll definitely be like Hermione and take multiple classes, exhausting himself so much that he’ll fall asleep in 3 seconds flat if he’s not careful. He often has nightmares, so taking extra classes and avoiding sleep is his escape. 

He aces all his classes, perfect in spells, potions, the writing and reading, the practical, you name it. However, you can also often see dark bags under his eyes. Zayne keeps to himself and is known to all the professors as a very smart, polite and quiet student. He earns a lot of points for Ravenclaw and has almost never gotten into trouble.

Still with a heart of a doctor, Zayne has perfected all of his knowledge of healing and regeneration spells, able to mend a bone in just a few seconds. He’s most likely the first student people go to if no professors are around and someone is injured. 

Zayne gets a lot of confessions, girls (and boys) love him. He’s respectful. Keeps to himself. Smart. The list goes on and on. Zayne of course turns down everyone who approaches him, he only has like two friends, actually make that one. Greyson. The only other guy that he barely talks to and if he does then it’s about studies or a new spell. 

He’s very quiet and his stoic face throws people off, but during his time off he’s often seen going over to Hogsmeade to help out some elderly people or acting as a makeshift doctor—all the while accompanied by his pet owl. His owl is completely black, with big yellow eyes and is a know-it-all among other owls.

Ravenclaw. Most people say Slytherin and I can see why, BUT, I think Ravenclaw suits him more. He wants to avenge Lumeria not for power or ambition, plus he has such a yearn for art. He literally MAKES his own paints and travels around the world to appreciate art. He paints and makes art not for fame or power, but for his own creativity.

Okay, Rafayel might be the biggest trouble maker. He’s always experimenting with potions, whether in class or not. He’s an artist and his uniform is always very flashy, always decorating and adding accessories and add ons in his uniform. 

He’s either seen walking around the campus for days or locked in his room for days, which of course gets him into trouble. His room is full of canvases, broomsticks (with paint on them, because he wanted to experiment), paints, potions and questionable things. He often visits the Greenhouses to find new things to use for his paints. 

Although Rafayel gets into trouble a lot that doesn’t mean he’s necessarily a bad student. He has great grades, he’s probably the guy that sits at the back and quickly finishes the work before starting his own. Mastering a spell then trying out a new one to spark his creativity for a new art piece. 

His paintings have spells casted in them so whatever he paints there is something different in each of his creations; either the subjects in the painting can move, sound can be heard (like the waves crashing), or smell—each artwork has to engage 2 of the 5 senses (because seeing is already there).

Rafayel has a toad. He chose a toad because he couldn’t stand having a cat and an owl scared him, (he’s just a cute lil fish afterall). His toad is the ‘Giant Purple Toad’ and from the name you can tell that his toad is all purple. At first Rafayel wanted a fish but soon found out how that wouldn’t really be practical, so he settled with a toad instead. They’re best buds now.

Slytherin. Sylus is not a bad guy, it’s just that he has a natural desire for power and drive for ambition. He’s always been someone with overwhelming power, in his Myth, Anecdotes and even in this life. He’s a natural leader and the big boss in Onychinus, always being one step ahead of others.

Sylus is the mysterious student who’s suspiciously good at EVERY class. And it’s not like, ‘oh he learned really fast’ it’s like he already knew it and mastered it. The class he’s best at? D.A.D.A. He’s mastered every spell and knows every potion concoction. 

He’s the type of student that stands out, whether that be about his looks, grades, or personality, he’s just sticking out in the crowd of students. While Sylus is not necessarily a ‘troublemaker’ there are a lot of rumors around his name and he definitely works some shady things with some other professors. 

His grades are perfect, even though he doesn’t go to class and disappears off somewhere else sometimes. However, he makes it up by giving points to Slytherin unintentionally, mastering a complex spell in the first go, making a potion that exceeds what it's intended purpose was.

The reason why Sylus is not really a ‘troublemaker’ is that no one can actually catch him in the act or has any proof; therefore he doesn’t exactly lose points for Slytherin instead he actually gains them some points with his amazing studies. He’s not even counted as an academic weapon because if we were to compare, he’s more like a nuclear bomb, than a machine gun or rifle. 

Kieran and Luke can always be found close by Sylus . They’re his closest friends and almost always clean up for him, which is quite rare since he rarely makes any mistakes. Although it’s not technically set as a rule to only have an owl, a cat, or a toad as a pet (Ron had Scabbers) Sylus has Mephisto. Nobody says anything about how the rules were bent, they only complain about how noisy Mephisto is. Mephisto definitely is known as the animal to not be messed with around other pets. 

Slytherin. He’s calculating, cautious, and ruthless. His loyalties only lie with one person, MC, other than her. I have no doubt that he’ll betray EVER in a heartbeat if he had the chance. He also doesn’t want anyone to see his vulnerability, even MC. He has no hesitation to do what it takes to get what he wants, and that is to protect MC. 

Caleb is the popular kid most definitely. He’s a chaser and a star player in Quidditch, which makes him popular among girls and boys. He’s known as ‘The Outlier’ because he’s polite and seems so kind and approachable to others but his close friends know that’s a load of bs. 

Caleb usually hangs around the Quidditch Pitch or in his own room, he likes spending time alone to think and study. Sometimes he gets into a lot of trouble because he’s seen flying around on his broomstick on the pitch when it’s 1 am. 

Caleb is the top in all his classes, he listens in class but also manages to talk to his friends as well. However, he almost never gets into trouble, always talking with precision that makes his friends get into trouble but not him. He definitely hangs out with his friends, but he’s the type of guy to hang out with friends during school hours then afterwards just do his own thing, only rarely hanging outside of school hours.

He’s not necessarily a troublemaker, it’s just that Caleb can act a little silly at times. Flying around the Quidditch Pitch to clear his thoughts, practicing late into the early mornings, exploding a cauldron. Caleb is the type of student that always loses points to Slytherin because of not being inside bed when it’s dark out or sneaking into the kitchens.

However, he compensates with topping all his classes, acing every exam. And his scores aren’t like 80 or 90, no, it’s 100’s. Just 100’s in every class, only sometimes the occasional 99 or 98. His friends definitely ask him for study advice but he doesn’t budge, he smartly brushes it off and tells them to study and that they got this. He’ll give some study tips but he won’t go all out to help tutor them, maybe only a few super close friends, but his super close friends often don’t need much help.

One thing about Caleb is that he has a Great Horned Owl, which is known to be the fastest, and he specifically trained the owl to help him with cooking and be his partner-in-crime. He has his owl sneak into the kitchen to let him know if the coast is clear then trained his owl to get him ingredients while he tries out a new recipe to make for a special someone (it’s totally you). He totally got caught and lost a bunch of points but he was able to cook you something, so that’s a win for him. Caleb also definitely trained his owl to steal some food from his friends.

A/N: Okay this took wayyy too long to get out. I still have more for this, similar to my Uni AU I had when you guys first met and some other cute things but I don’t know if you guys want that. Please tell me if you do. I read and watched like 3 movies and books of HP so I don’t really know much, I hope this is alright. I was more of a Percy Jackson fan ^^;;. Anyways, my finals are nearing so my posts are reallyyy slow, please bear with me. As always stay delusional! (*´∀`*)

dividers by @omi-resources and @the-crafty-bookdragon

[cactiaintracist]

fifteen saying “I’m going to keep this face for a while. Why would I want to change it”

*intense flashbacks to the last time a doctor said that and it ended horribly for everyone

[draconic-desire]

💥 Take My Whiskey Neat 💥

Yandere Boothill x Reader

Again and again, you find a way to escape, and every time ends with you peering down the barrel of a gun.

Warnings: Yandere behaviors, forced relationship and captivity, implied kidnapping, some suggestive content but mostly sfw. Mild spoilers for his background story; I want to write him both as a super attentive and protective guy but also crazy for you???

You’ve become all too familiar with the sensation of a gun being pointed to your forehead.

“Aw, darlin’, why the long face? Took me two whole days to find ya this round! You should be proud’a yerself. I dare say our time together has taught you well,” he concludes with a wink.

Somehow, his praise feels more like a taunt.

That’s because it is. Obviously you never had a chance at escaping from him, a Galaxy Ranger with a bounty on his head worth more than your life a hundred times over. He was born and raised to hunt, to track, to kill. You’re just the unlucky target.

He leans the gun ever so slightly closer to you, mere inches before it can graze your skin, and waits for your response. Although you know he won’t pull the trigger, the sight of the 9 millimeter colt aimed directly between your eyes still sends goose flesh skittering down your arms.

You grit your teeth and pin him with a withering glare. The last thing you’ll relinquish is your pride—you’re not intimidated by him, and it is impressive that you evaded him for so long, relatively speaking. Your other escape attempts lasted mere hours.

Unfortunately, the fact that the Ranger has always traveled alone doesn’t help your chances—especially when lately, his only occupation has been you.

“What, no clap back today? No, ‘fudge you, ya son of a nice lady’ or ‘fork you, shirtbaggin’ bootlicker’? I’ve gotten so used to yer colorful language that I’m almost disappointed!” Boothill tilts the gun and juts his hips, his bullseye gaze locked on your own.

Ignoring the subtle look of longing, of hurt, within their depths is getting harder and harder. He’s superb at hiding it behind jokes and attempted curses, but you know that look. He’s clinging to you after all that’s been taken from him, seeking love after it was destroyed in flames. If only he still held onto his human emotions and didn’t rely on that neuro chip of his; then he’d know that what he’s showing you isn’t love, but obsession.

You wish you had never extended your kindness to him that fateful day, when he’d burst into your home, sparks flying and wires exposed. One of his arms was barely attached, completely torn through with bullet holes. A shootout, he’d said, and he’d caught wind of a handy ‘machine doctor’—a mechanic, you’d corrected him—in town who could fix him right up.

It had taken a full two weeks for you to get him back up and running functionally. Two weeks of evading IPC grunts knocking on your door in search of him, two weeks of tolerating (and fine, maybe even enjoying) his crude jokes, and two weeks of stories over a glass of whiskey, about your hope to one day travel among the stars and his of finding a companion to do so with.

That’s when he’d seemed the most human. Voice tinged with sorrow, yes, but lips curved into a morose smile, eyes looking up at the stars. Reminiscing about when he was still fully human, nothing but a cowboy on a seemingly insignificant planet, surrounded by his adopted parents and siblings, and even that little girl whom he never got to see grow up.

After he’d shared his story, you’d felt the sudden urge to be close to him. Without thinking, you’d brought your hand up to his cheek, wiping an invisible tear despite the fact that he lost his tear ducts long ago.

He’d sucked in a breath and gone deadly still; thinking you misjudged the situation and overstepped a boundary, you’d quickly started to jerk your hand back, only for him to lock it firmly against his face with his metal palm.

His voice, normally loud and clear through the synthesized distortion, had been quiet, low, wavering. “I—please, don’t stop. That feels…nice.”

You were sad to see him go after those two weeks. You honestly expected to never see him again—he was a Galaxy Ranger, after all, the definition of a lone wolf—but to your surprise, his visits didn’t end there. He kept returning again and again, and not just for repairs. Sometimes he’d bring you gifts or tell you stories of his hunt, and you’d cherish those moments when the galaxy felt just a bit less lonely with him.

Then the visits started to increase in their frequency—and intensity. He’d show up while you were working with a client and brazenly threaten them to leave so he could occupy your time instead, or he’d appear on your doorstep in the middle of the night with your favorite bottle of liquor, winking at the sight of your embarrassed form, still in your nightclothes. Your world suddenly seemed to revolve around the gunslinging cyborg.

You’d had to put your foot down—as much as you did enjoy his company, you wouldn’t allow him to interfere with your career. You’d worked hard to gain your skills, and even though you were barely scraping by and living in a tiny, modest home by yourself, you were still proud of what you’d achieved on your own.

His initial reaction was an uncharacteristic and frightening bout of silence, his pupils blown wide, locked onto yours. Just as quickly, his typical smirk returned as he laughed it off. “Just watch out, lil cutie, ‘cause I know you’ll be missin’ me soon.”

Apparently, soon was imminent, immediate. You were pouring yourself a drink after a long week of work when he finally kicked down your door and announced you’d be coming with him.

“I’ve been waiting a long while now to claim you, darlin’.”

“And if I refuse?”

That was the first time you witnessed his gun trained on you.

Now, Boothill drags you along everywhere, hopping from one planet or system to the next, living together as nomads. What you believed to be a serendipitous friendship, he thought was the start of your romance and life together.

It would be thrilling in any other circumstance, treading the path of The Hunt, evading the law, tracking down the IPC members who destroyed his family…except the cyborg transferred that need to protect, to save someone, onto you. You have no choice but to be his now, and he’ll be damned if he ever lets you go.

“You just want to hear me curse because you can’t,” you growl. What a stupid argument to be having with a pistol to your head. Yet you can’t help but siphon all of your anger into this dumb little game of cat and mouse, of shark and minnow, of hunter and bird.

He forgets you’re not the only one armed.

You flash him the most vulgar gesture you can make. “Go fuck yourself, Boothill.”

The cowboy throws his head back in a laugh. “Haha! There she is. Wild as a newborn colt.” He grins, flashing those shark teeth you’d groan to loathe. You’ve lost count of the number of puncture marks and scars they’ve littered across your flesh.

That’s something he can’t seem to get enough of—the feel of your warm, organic, human skin against his cold, steel shell.

“Lan shoot me with an arrow, do you ever shut the fuck up?” you grumble, looking up as if the Aeon will give you an answer.

“Think ya already know the answer to that,” he replies, lowering his weapon to sling his opposite arm around your shoulders. The gun hangs languidly from his other hand, as if he’s not the deadliest shot in the galaxy.

His breath brushes your neck as he leans in and nips at your ear. “Now, how ‘bout we take this back home, eh cutie? Two days without you has got me pretty…” His voice drops an octave. “…pent up, if ya know what I mean.”

The tooth marks along your skin flare. Oh, you know all too well.

~*~

Trying to find the solution to your imprisonment at the bottom of a bottle seems like a really clever idea, at least until the room starts spinning.

The empty glass cracks against the wooden table again as brown liquor burns down your throat. What did he call it? Rocket fuel? Damn right, and you’d lost count of the number of shots you’d taken.

Boothill’s normal smirk is contorted into a small frown. “Darlin’, I know it’s been a long couple’a days away for you, but I think we should retire the whiskey for the time being—”

“Shyut up!” you slur, jabbing a finger at the Ranger, your neck still throbbing from all the love bites and hickeys he’d given you. “Thiz is your fault.”

He reaches for the bottle, but you snatch it away and instead start to take pulls directly from it. A deep sigh reverberates behind you as you stand and begin to spin around, hands extended. “Aren’t we celebrating you catching me again? You got what you wanted, you…you mudder…fuuuu…” You sway and just barely catch yourself before you tumble—wait, no, that’s him steadying your shoulders.

“(Y/n).” You blink out of your haze momentarily; only on rare occasions does he use your name and not things like darling or cutie. His face is controlled, mouth tilted downward. “Put the bottle down. I know the feelin’ of wanting to drown in liquor, but it ain’t right.”

“I’m only like this because you took me from my life!”

He bares his teeth, and you know you hit a nerve. “That little shack you called a home? Was that really livin’? All those nights we talked, you said how you wanted grand adventure and risk! To travel and see the stars! To be with me!”

“I didn’t ask for you to put me in a moving cage,” you spit back, trying to shake out of his iron-clad grip. “But you never asked what I wanted, did you?”

“Why’s this all so hard for you to accept?” One hand moves to grab your chin, tilting your face towards his tall form. “It could be just us, ridin’ through the galaxy for all time.” His lips brush lightly against your own, and you feel a tinge of warmth run down your spine. “Just be mine.”

In your drunken stupor, your anger morphs into something else, something more carnal. He wants to be the predator? Well, even the hunted fight back sometimes.

The bottle drops from your hand, shattering against the floor, as you hook an arm around his neck and kiss him fervently, your tongue running along the edges of his pointed canines.

Before he can kiss you back, you pull away, wiping the back of your mouth with your forearm. “That’s what could have been if you hadn’t kidnapped me. If you’d asked me first.” Skipping over the remnants of the whiskey bottle, you flip him the finger over your shoulder as you walk away. “Too bad that’s all you’ll get. Fork you, Boothill.”

As soon as you leave the room, Boothill raises a metal digit to his lips, savoring the sensation of your warm mouth against his. So that’s what your willing kiss feels like. The true passion he knows is hidden deep in your soul, buried beneath the dirt like an unmarked grave. He releases a breathy laugh.

Well fork him sideways, but he wants more.

Taking his hat off, he sets it on the table and moves to pour himself a glass of sherry. He’s nearly positive he’ll find you passed out in bed if he goes to you now, and knows he shouldn’t, can’t be in the same room with you when his self control is so near to breaking. Better to let you sleep it off and tease you about the kiss in the morning.

Boothill kicks his feet up and takes a long sip. So, it turns out your drunken self may actually be harboring some attraction for him. Yeah, he can use that.

“I’ll have you someday,” he whispers, a promise to both you and himself. “Whiskey ain’t the only thing that’ll be on your lips, darlin’.”

[crossingthedreams]

medication — gregory house x f!reader

a/n: posting this late, as always, for @angstober day 06 — medication. this is inspired by a real life scenario that happened with someone I know. please, if you’re suffering through any sort of violence, reach the authorities. I am not, nor will ever be, specialized help, but I am available to listen in my dm’s should anyone need to vent. always, always, always put your safety and well being first. 

summary: you meet your former lover once more, but in the worst possible scenario. 

word count: 584

warnings: domestic violence. angst. horrible relationship dynamics. mentions of family death. abortion. mentions of past relationships. reader is injured. 

TRIGGER WARNING. Domestic violence. Abortion. Please proceed with care. 

“You should leave him”.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at the man at the door. Instead, you kept your gaze fixed on the medication falling in small drops from the transparent package into your veins. 

Hospital rooms had such a surreal vibe to them. Nothing seemed real, as if the words you uttered in there weren’t important and would have no impact on your actual day-to-day life. 

It was why you brought yourself to say, still not taking your eyes from the clear medication. “I wish I could”. 

You heard his steps approaching, hitting the floor rhythmically with his cane. 

His staff must have been so confused when he decided to be the attending doctor on your case. It was almost funny imagining the reactions, even though you never met the three young doctors working under his wing. 

You weren’t a mystery, and your case was just boring. You fell down the stairs and broke a couple of ribs, and got a black eye in the process. Nothing much, right? 

Wrong. And Gregory House saw right through you. 

He knew very well you didn’t fall, and he knew that black eye was a result of a very specific injury. 

In all the years he’d known your family, he never would have imagined you would lie for a man who was hurting you. 

The thing is, he didn’t know the whole story. The nuances, the finances. The reasons why you couldn’t just get up and leave. You didn’t deserve to leave.

You turned your face towards him. He was close enough now, so much so you could see the specks of light green in the baby blue of his eyes. He put a folder carefully on the movable table in front of you, and seemed to ponder on what to say next. 

You didn’t want to hear it. “There’s a lot of strings attached”, you simply said, hoping this would end the matter once and for all. “You knew my father and you are a smart guy, you can figure it out”.

“You’re pregnant.”

“No, I’m not.”

He tilted his head. “Sorry, who is the doctor here again?”

You shook your head, as if the motion itself could stop reality. Your eyes filled with tears, but you didn’t want to cry. Not here, not in front of him.

“You don’t have to go through with this. And I mean both the pregnancy and whatever hell you are living back home”, he said in the sweetest way he knew how. He took a small bottle from his coat and held it out in front of you. “Take one pill, and he’ll never know. Doctor-patient confidentiality”.

You smiled a little, mostly because of his tone. House never tried to be funny, but at least he was trying to lighten the mood.

“Your father was a terrible man, and I hated him almost as much as he hated me. Of course, he didn’t sleep with my daughter, so there’s that”.

You rolled your eyes, which hurt due to the bruises. But still, the small smile lingered. House brought up the torrid affair you two shared before your father passed very rarely, and never without a motive.

“You should leave him, kid”, he repeated. Your smile faded, and your face showed only pain. “If you ever need anything, you have my number, my work address and my home address. Call me”. 

He left the bottle of medication on the table before leaving. Confidently for once, you took it. 

[burgerrat]

"No one gets me like you do."

Harley Sawyer x Reader

NOTE: gender-neutral reader, mentions of gore, threats of violence & light angst.

(I'm gonna be honest the positive feedback with my headcanons made me wanna make s'more Harley stuff. Praying that I kept his personality as close to I think he'd act canonically. Ough

My main inspiration behind this was dovewingkinnie's art piece mixed with that scene in Sonic 2 where Dr. Robotnik's grabbing Agent Stone's face

Aaaaandddd the prompt that makes the title comes from melamemea's prompt list here!

Hope you enjoy!)

It felt like you had been watching the procedure for years, when only 30 minutes had passed by as the Doctor poked and prodded at some unfortunate, sedated Smiling Critter's insides.

Sprawled on an operating table as a robotic, three-fingered limb attached to the ceiling of the room, worked away with a scalpel; a mechanic vessel bent over the operating table, a singular, wide eye displayed on it's screen as it observed the process, also lending its pair of hands, when they were of need. 

He was gruesome in his work, yet his hand was gentle in the most skilled of ways, in however form it came.

A professional in his field, until the very end.

"Do I really have to sit through this?" You huffed, resting your head in your palm.

You were spooned into another of Harley's vessels, sitting cross legged as the metal giant behind you remained still, like a protective shell.

"Squeamish, are we?" The Doctor casually asked, not bothering to actually acknowledge you with one of his physical forms.

"No! I just- ugh, how do you sit through this without falling asleep? It's not like taking a walk around inside here will be the death of me."

Soon as you responded, the scrap robot behind you hummed to life, the operation before your eyes coming to a pause quickly, and now... the screen of the vessel behind you turned on, displaying that oh so familiar eye.

"Your blathering is distracting enough." The Doctor hissed, his anger thinly boiling over.

"I might as well put you on that table instead. Perhaps you'll find my work more 'interesting' once it's skin-deep?" He chuckled.

This was Dr. Sawyer's attempt at humor, only his sadistic side could see the amusement about his threats.

But you knew better, you knew he bluffed each time, because he'd never acted upon it. Not when he was furious, not when you were asleep and vulnerable.

You glared at the vessel behind you, as if to say:

'do it, I dare you.'

The eye on the screen squinted, a quiet confrontation.

Then, dropping all hints of sadism, his voice returned, gentle and monotone.

"I cannot, and will not allow you out of my sight. Set one foot outside of my laboratories, and you'll be just another lamb to the slaughter, I can guarantee the probabilities." 

He'd told you this a million times before, each time more frustrated than the last that he had to deal with such a thick headed person.

His apathetic logic brought him once more to question why, why he kept you. Why did this type of recognition mean so much to him, when it came not only unprofessionally, but brought him objectively nothing?

"I know, I know, Harl. Look, I'm sorry-"

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. His eye, once zoned out, focusing back on you.

Harl.

He liked the ring of that.

Only you bothered to give him nicknames like that.

He liked whatever this was that he was feeling, it... helped him relax.

"I just can't do it like you do- the patience. And at least you're doing something. Maybe I can be your assistan-?"

"Absolutely not." He interrupted before you had even completed your question.

"It's my work and my work alone. You may take notes if you wish, but I will not allow any interference. Especially from an unqualified hand." He sternly said.

You sighed in defeat, you knew how much his work meant to him, you happily engaged- but watching it actually happen? Much less intriguing (or violent, really) than you'd imagined at first.

"However..."

His sing-songy tone as he continued caught your attention. His metallic hands gently took hold of yours briefly, before they snaked up to cup your face, the vessel's head lowering slightly so his eye could analyze your expression. Your entire face, really.

You could feel your cheeks heating up slightly against the cold touch of the machine's fingers as they smushed your face gingerly, his fingers slowly moving in small, smooth circles.

"Mmm, yes... I think we can build a little enrichment area for this little mouse."

He purred, his eye squinting playfully.

He knew what he was doing.

For a moment, a brief moment, he indulged exactly what you wished for: more of his attention, his touch. His hands did not come off of your face at any point, one moved to knead your head as the other continued to study your physiognomy, observing your behaviour, taking mental notes.

But all good things must come to an end, regrettably. And, much as he cherished you, his work was more important, you (or anything else) weren’t above it.

"I do wish to study your reactions upon being presented with certain... situations." The Doctor trailed off as he readjusted his position around you, his consciousness switching back to the other vessel and the robotic arm hovering over the operating table, casually going back to digging his scalpel around the Smiling Critter’s guts mixed with stuffing. His tone became fully professional, as if he were discussing business with you.

"E-excuse me??" You babbled out, face still red from his probing.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I won't place you in any hostile environment. Since my surgeries are so boring to you, I might just have to leave you with some homework to do instead, mm?"

Once his response was met with silence, he continued.

"I'll just place a few seeds around a labyrinth for you to find and collect, and see how well your cognitive abilities are. After that? Who knows! I might reward you with some cheese." He mocked.

You raised an eyebrow, unamused.

"Fine. So long as I'm doing something." You huffed, earning a contented chuckle for a response from the Doctor as he worked.

You were tempted to ask him to elaborate instead of speaking about his metaphorical 'lab mouse', to satisfy your curiosity, but you didn't want him to think you doubted your safety around him... he'd kept you alive this far, was ever-so vigilant to make sure you were well and alive.

You trust him.

You care.

~

"Most would come to think I'd be laying some sort of trap. The logical outcome." Harley observed once he concluded his procedure on the Critter, the robotic arm once more going still, the vessel remaining active and now... focusing on you.

"Oh, to be so blissfully void of paranoia."

"Yes." You agreed, then shaking your head, "but I know you, Harley. You word it like we're strangers." You added. "I should be able to trust you."

Silence.

"Do you know why?" The Doctor vaguely asked, his monotone voice sounded like he was miles away, yet he was so close to you. The automaton had begun approaching, the one behind you had turned on again. Yet he seemed... disconnected.

Not in the technological sense of his vessels.

"Why won't you lay a trap for me...?" You tried to clarify, "or why I should be able to trust..?"

"Neither." He scoffed.

"Why it is human nature to seek pointless connections, such as this. Nothing of value is extracted, there are no means to an end. What's the value of a life, when it can mean so much more? When it can be so much more?"

You tilted your head slightly, raising to your feet.

"Why does it have to mean anything?" Your answer was another question.

"It has to mean something to me." He barked.

That hurt a little. No… maybe not his intention, but your expression changed, and it didn't go unnoticed by him.

"Don't I?" Your voice softened.

He made a noise, like he was about to respond, yet held himself back the moment the words were going to leave his speakers. The main vessel he was using to express himself retracted a little.

You'd caught him off guard enough to remain speechless.

Because you were right.

You meant something to him.

You, who interacted with him even when you had no need for him, unlike the company who'd betrayed him twice.

You, who listened, who liked him even through his irritable, sadistic nature.

You, the one person that came back to find him, even if there wasn't much left.

And it wasn't because of his research.

You came back, for him.

"Harl...?" Your voice quivered a little, concerned with what his reply would be. Now, you were starting to doubt your safety through the hurt.

"You do." 

His response came out quick but monotone, void of emotion.

He wasn't sure what to make of himself. He hated it when others displayed sympathy towards his experiments, but he was telling the truth: you meant something to him, and, much as he hated to come to terms with it, it wasn't for his research.

You sighed in relief, your expression softening as you looked to the ground.

"I apologize, I was merely... pondering." His tone now took on its usual, eloquent speech. Or at least he tried to keep it that way, like how he'd word a presentation.

"Wondering why humans need to seek... connections... what drives this.. urge. This feeling." He rasped that last bit with spite. He couldn't understand himself, this counterproductive hypocrisy, and oh how he hated it.

This was his indirect attempt of saying 'I'm sorry that I hurt you', having taken notice that his selfishness had actually caused damage to the one person who gave a damn to even look for him. It wasn't good by any stretch, but it was an attempt to mend things up with clarifications. 

"I don't think... you need to know specifically the why of it...we're social creatures, it's, uhm.. normal, to want connections.." you tried to explain, approaching the automaton, reaching to hold his hand.

Were he in his human body, he would've noticeably tensed at the contact.

"Why still bother, when you have been betrayed over, and over again? And the funniest part: there is no prize for it. It has no meaning." He spat, once again void of emotion. He was subtly venting at this point, really, not even trying to hide that he was talking about himself.

In this moment, his complete detachment from humanity matched with his current body.

"Must have some meaning, if our relationship is an indicator of it." You played with his hand, intertwining your fingers.

Even when he had little regard for how you felt, you gave him compassion. You cherish him.

"I don't understand what drives you to it. What compels me." The Doctor's grip tightened around your hand for a moment, frustrated.

Then, he relaxed, his other hand tenderly taking hold of yours. Even though he was machine, it was his gentle handling that reminded one that he was still a man, despite the sharp metal.

"But.. one thing I do know, is that no one gets me... like you do. There is something there... and I intend to study it, why you, and nobody else."

Part of you knew that you both knew what it was.

Perhaps he was in denial of it, or maybe this was another indirect attempt of his, to say 'I love you' in his own way.

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 7

part 1, prev part

Hospitals brought a sense of comfort to Dustin that he didn’t quite understand. Or felt he could even admit. Somewhere among the bustling doctors and the constant beeping, he’s reminded that people are being saved every day. That the people inside these walls are doing their best to make sure his friends stay alive. And at the end of the day, or week, or month, he’ll be able to talk to them again.

That’s what he tells himself every time he walks through the hospital doors. When he goes to the front desk with a smile and asks if it’s ok he visits his friends. When he reads to Eddie as many days as he can and sits next to Lucas in Max’s room. That this place is the best possible place for them to be. That they will be home soon.

It doesn’t matter that they will be changed, it doesn’t matter that they might not be the same. At the end of the day, their alive. Their still here. Dustin doesn’t have to attend another funeral for his friend. Doesn’t have to get dressed in a stuffy suit and hear words of sorrows from people who didn’t care that much when the person in the ground was alive. Instead, he’ll throw a party so big it will shock the smiles right back onto their faces.

Make the bleak seem light again.

Deep inside though, something he never will admit, his own smile starts to fade every day. Seeing his friends lie unconscious on the bed in the same position they were the day before. Nothing changed. Nothing noticeably different. The same tubes still attached. It’s disheartening seeing the bravest people you know stuck somewhere they can’t leave.

The only difference this time is that Steve is there walking beside him. Discharged the day before, wearing his own clothes. Given an ointment for his scars to make sure they heal right and reduce any swelling that might still occur. One to numb the phantom pains when they come and help when they inevitably itch so bad it makes him want to scratch his skin off. Out of the three people who spent the night in the hospital, Steve was the one with the best outcome.

Which is strange to say, since he did pass out from blood loss and lost a good bit of flesh to those damned bats. Has a scar around his neck from their tails that make people’s head turn to look a second time. Think Steve did something he would never even think of. Couldn’t think of. There was too much here that Steve couldn’t leave behind. That any of them could leave behind.

This group of theirs, it was a family. The biggest and best one that ever lived. Where people stepped in to the roles that were given up. Lost. Never had. People come into each other lives just to make them better. It didn’t matter how they met. Everyone had to meet somehow.

It’s why Dustin keeps coming back day in and day out. Insists that he is family when the receptionist asks. This is what real family does. They stand by each other until the end. Give strength when it’s needed so they can get back up again.

Max is the first stop today. An intensity Dustin’s never felt before waiting for him in the room. Like a cloud of misery rests above their heads. Smacking his smile right off his face.

Lucas’s chin rests on his hands, while his elbows dig into the hospital mattress. He looks at Max with tears in his eyes. She’s asleep, the heart monitor attached to her fingers. Breathing tube still resting in her nostrils, just for assistance. Looking stiff with the casts wrapped around her limbs.

“What happened?” Dustin asks bluntly, pulling a chair to sit next to Lucas. He’d rather get to the point that wander around the subject.

Lucas swallows. “You know they scheduled a bunch of tests now that she’s out of the coma. Well, the eye tests were not that intensive, and she wouldn’t have to stay awake for longer than a few hours to get them done. And-.” He gets cut off when a shaky sob crowds his throat.

“And?” Dustin presses. Trying to be gentle but he’s starting to fear the worst. Already making a list of everything that could go wrong, getting ready to check them off.

He’s done research for this. Went to the library and checked out as many books as possible about nerve damage, eye damage. Scars and PTSD. Anything to make him prepared for any diagnosis. To be the best he could for his friends. Ease his own mind while he’s at it.

But nothing he could have done would have prepared him for the words that leave Lucas’s mouth. How they are so pressing that Lucas has to leave the room. Dustin watches as he steps out with tears streaming down his face. Steve pulling him into a hug before the door shuts behind him.

With all of the possibilities, this was the one that none of them wanted. The one that was the worst of his list. Written last in his mind because of how bad he didn’t want it to happen. Proof that none of them were as invincible as he liked to believe. Wanted to feel.

Max was almost entirely blind.

The room starts to close in around him as he stares at the hospital bed. As the heart monitor persists, getting louder with every thump of Max’s heart. Proof that she’s alive, but not proof for how well she is going to live. The life she will face that is so different than the one she had a week ago. Two years ago.

When they brought Max into this hellscape of a situation, Lucas presented her with a choice. To live happily in ignorance, or face the bitter truth that hides underneath this town. Max made her choice. Dustin has never wished she chose differently more than he did right now.

It was easy to believe that everything would be ok, when nothing really bad ever happened directly to you. Sure, he’s lost people. Almost lost people. But the ones he cared the most about were still here. Still above ground. In the end, Dustin could still walk away smiling.

He doesn’t quite feel like smiling anymore.

Next part

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[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

hide the sun - n. mackinnon

summary: there are some things nathan mackinnon can't cope very well with in life. one of them happens to be mia in hospital, and needless to say it's a whirlwind when it comes true. (f!oc!soccer player)

warnings: swearing, details of injury (stitches, concussion, temporary amnesia etc), mentions of vomiting, mentions of anxiety, brief mention of the pandemic, mentions of sports psychologists, mention of painkillers/hospitals/doctors, mentions of routines/small rituals, angst

word count: 13.8k (sheesh)

< a/n: this is for demi (the legend herself) @wyattjohnston as part of the summer fic exchange2k24! i hope you enjoy it! also a massive thank you for organising such a wholesome event in this little community!! >

Nate had lost count on how many times he’d had to dive into the nearest bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach in the last few hours. It seemed like every time he got close to stepping inside the hospital room his brain would play over what happened in his head and he’d relive it all again – as if once wasn’t enough. Only, his imagination was crueller than reality because the outcome would always be…Mia not conscious and talking in the hospital bed.

All is well, he had to keep reminding himself of that or the fine thread holding everything in check would spontaneously snap and he’d be inconsolable.

He’d gone through a lot in his life, but nothing had ever come close to him experiencing this level of fear before. And that in itself was a terrifying notion, because that fear was rooted in someone else’s well being. His happiness and his peace were attached to the woman in the hospital bed, not to himself, and he found that both profoundly moving and disturbing at the same time.

He flushed the toilet once more, stomach muscles aching, and shut his eyes, his head lolling against the wall behind him. 

He was well aware he was being a dick. Perhaps the biggest prick he’d ever been before in his entire life. And he was being all of that to the person he was wholeheartedly, irrevocably, hilariously in love with, too. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to forgive himself let alone ask for forgiveness from her.

He was still shaking and cold, and every time he shut his eyes that scene was played on repeat: the ball flying through the air, Mia jumping up to head it away but instead getting a sharp elbow to the temple (one Nate could safely say rivalled even Jacob Trouba’s weaponry) and going down cold. Nate knew it was bad just from the way she’d fallen – limbs loose, like a puppeteer had surrendered control of the strings – he’d had enough practice in his own field, and he hadn’t ever anticipated her also being on the receiving end of such a blow before. 

Of course, it had been her teammates first, frantic expressions on their faces as someone waved over the physios, and then the physios had waved over the paramedics and–

Nate inhaled a shuddering breath, a hand kneading away the pain in his chest. He’d never been one to admit he suffered with anxiety before, sure, he got them in bouts occasionally, but he’d never had it on this scale. Yet, another terrifying thing.

And to top all of that off, the guilt flowing through his veins was astronomical. He could feel it crushing his head from inside his skull, squeezing his heart and constricting his lungs and he just wanted to curl up somewhere and sob everything out of his system. Then, and only then would he be able to stomach the thought of seeing her: when he’d comprehended everything.

“Fucking dick, what are you doing?” He groaned into his hands, wiping away unshed tears and taking another shaky breath, this one making his chin wobble.

He was needed, he was painfully aware of that. Painfully. It scorched his insides and his consciousness didn’t hold back the self-belittling remarks in his head, but he couldn’t peel himself up from the floor. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to stand safely on his own legs, and he wasn’t entirely sure his stomach was strong enough just yet.

His phone buzzed in the pocket of his jeans, and in an attempt to take it out of his pocket it clattered to the floor, victim to his trembling hands.

He blinked once, twice, three times to clear the blurriness of his eyes, and read over the words on his screen. He wasn’t entirely sure whether it was the shortness and cryptic tone of the message that had him finding strength from somewhere to haul himself onto his feet, or whether he was just intrinsically waiting for something to get him moving.

All anyone had been told so far was that she was in a stable condition – still unconscious – and that any scans that had been done so far had been as clear as they could be, that being no internal bleeding or haemorrhaging or anything that could have possibly resulted from getting hit in the temple and then bashing your head on the floor. A concussion was inevitable, and even thinking about it, Nate knew it wasn’t going to be a merciful one. 

Nevertheless, he managed to pocket his phone, a damp hand on the wall of the cubicle keeping him steady until he could unlock the door without wanting to immediately dive back in and hide until Mia was given the all-clear. 

He wasn’t even sure he knew what he was doing or where he was going when he was following the overhead signs, but he somehow ended up in the hallway. There were benches in the corridor, settled just outside Mia’s room, and he stopped as he rounded the corner.

There was a crowd of people significantly larger than when he’d initially run away to the toilets, and one quick glance at people’s faces told him they were teammates. It wasn’t the entire team, just a few close friends and the team physio – enough to mean a queue would have to be formed when she wakes up, what with some of her family members already in there.

And if he was being completely honest, Nate wasn’t sure what to expect as he slowly walked towards them. They’d taken up all the seats on the bench and a few people were sitting on the floor against the wall, but no one was talking. In fact, everyone appeared to be looking straight forwards at the same spot on the wall, but there was nothing there.

It was Milly who saw him first. She offered a tight smile and waved at him, and when he got close enough, just about to lower himself down on the floor next to her, she spoke.

“The doctor came out around two minutes ago.” She whispered, and Nate felt all the air in his lungs freeze.

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, the sharp pain in his chest rendering him immobile. Of course he wanted to know if she was okay, but what if she wasn’t? That was the question that his mind kept repeating on a loop, and if that was the case then these few seconds he’d use to gather himself meant they’d be the last few seconds where he was ignorant to that piece of information.

He swallowed, unable to look at Milly, and instead turned his attention to the spot on the wall in front of him that everyone else seemed to be focused on.

“She’s awake.”

“Is she oka–” His throat was horrendously dry and his voice was scratchy, but it was Milly’s gentle hand on his forearm that had him shutting up.

“She’s okay.”

Nate nodded, not even noticing Milly had rescinded her touch, and instead inhaled deeply, nodding absent-mindedly.

“She’s been assessed, her memory’s a little bit patchy from the last couple of days but there’s no concern. Her family’s in there now.” She paused, and even out of the corner of his eye he could tell she was clearly hesitant in saying something to him. Everyone seemed to have looked at him like that since the minute he’d walked through the hospital doors, and he was starting to find it rather irritating. It felt awfully similar to impatience, like every time he caught someone looking at him with pity, wanting to say something but ultimately deciding not to (probably because they didn’t know how he’d react), he just wanted to yell – like when you get stuck behind a slow walker and you’re behind schedule in the airport.

He blinked hard, once, twice, before using the heel of his palm to quickly wipe his eyes. He hadn’t even noticed the water welling up until the wall in front of him had become a blurred mess of blocked colours: red, green, blue, white. 

“Are you gonna go in?” Milly asked finally, and he was at least glad she made no comment on his tears.

He shook his head, not entirely trusting himself to speak without his voice cracking or wavering, or a complete breakdown – he’d be lying to himself immensely if he denied that wasn’t on the cards.

“Can’t.” He croaked, pulling his knees up to his chest, as best as he could given his height, “I’m not family, they won’t let me in.”

Milly considered his words for a moment before frowning, “Who won’t let you in?”

“Doctors. I’m not family, so…They don’t want to overwhelm her.”

“That’s shit—”

“They told me to come back in the morning, but I’m not sure I can leave.” He whispered, his hand massaging the tender spot in his chest as he fought another onslaught of watery eyes.

He felt like it might be a bit of an overreaction to cry at the knowledge she was okay, but he couldn’t quite get a handle on anything. It was a combination of stress, worry and fear that just spiralled his emotions out of his own control, like someone else was fiddling with the joystick of a controller somewhere. Yet, even knowing the root of it all, the mere thought of straying more than a corridor away from the door to Mia’s hospital room was…incomprehensibly daunting. 

It almost sent him down another path of panic, he could feel the grips of it begin to claw at his heart rate and the clamminess of his palms again when he even so much as thought about it. 

No, he physically couldn’t bring himself to leave, at least not yet.

He’d at least give it another think when her parents walk out with a real update instead of the formal crap the doctors had spewed him earlier: some vague nonsense about her being stable but unable to tell quite the extent of the damage just yet, and if they knew they certainly couldn’t tell him because he wasn’t her husband. 

If only he’d lied initially. He’d probably think about that for the rest of his life.

Milly hummed, pulling out her phone. If the circumstances had been different Nate probably would have been able to stop himself peeking over at what she was doing, but he was so despondent and distracted in his own head, those horrified replays still flickering on a loop in the back of his mind, that he couldn’t bring himself to be nosey for once.

“That’s not right,” Milly muttered under her breath, scrolling down several pages of text, “They should let you in, you know? There’s no laws against it, it’s just been cracked down on during the Pandemic.”

“Huh?” Nate tilted his head, his nose running slightly. Now that the worst of his tears had gently fizzled away, his eyelids were heavy and his eyes were burning with fatigue. In fact, he could feel the exhaustion settle into his bones, and he knew that in about an hour he could be asleep on the hospital floor, even with those fluorescent lights shining in his face.

“They should let you in.” Milly repeated, pushing herself up and walking over to the nearest desk before Nate could even think about responding.

He kept his mouth shut, watching her talk to the receptionist from afar, not able to hear the exact words over all the hubbub, but getting the general gist of it when Milly half-turned to point at him. He couldn’t help it when his mouth flattened into a straight line and his eyes awkwardly averted themselves…before immediately flicking back over to the conversing pair, slightly afraid he’d miss something yet shaking in his shoes  at the thought of a shaking head of denial.

Milly patted the counter, before wandering back over to the group of them all, teammates sitting up straighter in their chairs and against the wall, eager eyes fixed on their captain, anticipation shimmering in their eyes.

Nate swallowed nervously, his hands still shaking and stomach still rolling. He was sure he looked as pale as he felt, as sickly as he felt. Milly’s avoidance of his stare was unnerving.

“I think I’m gonna go.” Milly came to a standstill in front of Nate, her expression unreadable, and before Nate could even stutter out an urgent ‘why?’, someone down the line beat him to it.

“It’s getting late, and we know she’s okay.” Milly paused, not quite knowing what to say, “I don’t want to overwhelm her, and we’re not gonna see her tonight, anyway.”

Nate blinked, jaw ticking, and when he looked back up, the corridor was nearly deserted. Milly was hovering near him, watching as the last body filed around the corner, shoulders slumped as she disappeared from view, before turning to him, “They said the doctors would be less likely to let anyone in if there was a massive group of people outside the room. I don’t know it’s gonna help your chances now, but…”

Nate felt his jaw drop before he registered what he was doing, quickly clamping it shut with a grateful nod of his head, “Thank you.”

She shrugged, “It’s nothing.”

“You can stay, too, y’know–”

“Oh, no. I appreciate the offer, but if me not being here is the difference between you getting to see her or not, I’d rather not risk it.” She breathed a laugh, “Besides, I’ve got kids waiting for me at home.”

He nodded absently, and Milly had the strangest sense that he wasn’t completely there. He was inside his head, eyes a little bit unfocused as he looked in her general direction; his knee was bouncing, whether he’d noticed that or not she couldn’t tell – but she knew none of that would disappear immediately. At least, not until he’d be granted permission to enter the room and see her for himself.

And for that reason, she chose not to offer any words of comfort – they’d fall on deaf ears. Instead, she did something she’d been working up the courage to ask him for a while now..

“Um, this isn’t the right time to be asking this, I’m well aware, but you wouldn’t happen to know any sports psychologists I could get in touch with, would you?” 

For a harrowing and humiliating moment, Milly thought she’d just have to turn around, that the slight furrow of his brow as he stared relentlessly at that spot on the wall was just because she interrupted a comforting silence, but five seconds passed before she realised he was thinking.

His fingers fumbled with his phone as he removed it from a pocket, and she started, heart hammering in her chest when it slipped in his grip, before he caught it and switched it on.

“I know a few, actually. I have a few numbers if you want me to send them to you?”

She nodded, “Yes please.”

“Do you have a preference as to whether it’s a guy or–”

“No.”

She passed him her phone, watching as he typed in her phone number, still watching when her own phone lit up with three notifications of contacts he’d shared with her. When he passed her own phone back to her his eyes looked less troubled. They’d cleared up, less red than they had been, and he’d clearly been glad for a distraction.

“Thank you.” She breathed, managing a smile, “Hey, you can sit on the bench now everyone’s gone.”

Nate nodded, but made no move to get up. He wasn’t entirely sure why but the thought of sitting on the chairs instead of the floor felt way too real – it’d just solidify the reason that he had a right to sit there because of someone in one of the rooms, and his very bones felt heavier at that thought. 

Milly grinned, “She’ll be fine.” 

He said nothing to that, just gestured half-heartedly at the floor, “It’s cosier here.”

***

Mia had never been so achy and sore without exactly remembering what she’d done to feel those consequences. Everything hurt: her legs, her hips, her arms, her ribs, her head – gosh, her head! It felt like she’d been laid underneath a pneumatic drill and lived to tell the tale. Her nerve endings were on fire, mostly throughout her entire body and the sheer strength of the pain rendered her…well, she was so exhausted she couldn’t really cope with being awake for longer than a minute or so.

Her eyelids would get hot and droopy, and despite how hard she tried to keep herself awake, for her parent’s reassurances, the screaming agony in her head sent her eyes rolling and she succumbed to a brief period of sleep. Still, she didn’t feel a single ounce better having napped at all. If anything, each time she opened her eyes it felt as though the pain magnified for a brief second, like her body forgot it had been pumped with painkillers and she was just experiencing all the pain she possibly could.

That wasn’t even including the odd patches of her memory, though that she learnt through what she’d been told. Apparently this game wasn’t the one they’d won by a landslide – that had in fact been a month ago, yet she could still remember going to the grocery store three days ago and even though she was pretty sure something was missing from the hospital room, she couldn’t quite find the words for it and when she’d rather blearily croaked that concern she’d been thrown a quick ‘don’t think too much right now, honey’.

But she had seen the shared glance between her parents right before she passed out for the umpteenth time.

Needless to say, she did wake up with the answer right at the front of her brain – it felt remarkably like finding a pair of sunglasses you’d forgotten you owned.

“Whe–” Her eyebrows knitted together and she peeled her eyes open to…an empty chair. Followed by an empty room.

She shut her eyes, able to still picture the blank screened-TV on the back wall, the shuttered blinds to the windows on her right and the lone lamp on at the end of the room. She’s never had a concussion before, and with the way she was feeling right now she didn’t have any plans of ever having one again, at least if it was up to her.

She had no idea how Nate functioned. 

Nate. She tried to sit herself up properly in bed, the thing she’d been on the precipice of remembering flashing to the forefront of her mind, but all the motion did was send her stomach rolling, and before she could even think, her hands found the cardboard bowl laid on her lap, like someone had put it there in anticipation of this very moment, and heaved into the bowl. The pressure in her head sent a blinding pain from the temple with the bandage over it, right through her brain to her ear on the other side and all behind her eyes. She almost passed out again right there; she could feel the blood drain from her face and the familiar whooshing feeling as though her consciousness had fallen through her body and into the mattress beneath her. Her vision went black, spotty around the edges, but for some reason she could hear the sound of a door opening and closing, the rushed footsteps that only seemed to get louder and the hushed, reassuring voice in her ear as a warm hand helped lower her back against the pillows.

She knew just from the slight cloud of familiar aftershave that billowed around her exactly who it was. She might not be able to do much, think much or remember much at that moment, but Mia could recognise familiarity. It was like muscle memory, except her brain could decode it easily.

She kept her eyes shut and screwed up, willing the dizziness away – it gripped at the base of her throat and if she could compare the sensation to anything else, it was remarkably similar to how she imagined falling through a dark abyss whilst being unrolled from being tangled in some kind of tape. The scrunching up of her eyes, however, pulled awkwardly at something stuck to her temple; it sent a sharp stab of pain right across her cheekbone and into her hairline, and before she could even register what it was her fingers had found a padded sheet taped across the side of her face.

A band-aid.

Once the dizziness had subsided, she slowly peeled her eyes open, millimetre by millimetre, as if she was afraid something might jump out at her if she ripped them open too quickly.

Nate was sitting looking very awkward in the chair closest to the bed, one of his hands holding the cardboard bowl on Mia’s lap and the other gently tugging her hand away from her bandage. 

She could see there was a brief moment when she looked at him that something had changed, a window shattered somewhere perhaps. He looked like he’d been through the wringer: hair messed up (very uncharacteristic), cheeks somehow even paler than usual, eyes red, hands shaking, and fearful.

She couldn’t say for certain why he felt the latter but she could read it in his face, in his body language. She’d never seen him look so not-okay and put-together before.

In hindsight, it was not only cruel to do what she did next, but given the events of the day and how completely naive she was to other people’s experience of what happened, it most definitely was not the best idea:

“Are you a doctor?” She mumbled blearily. Mia was never really that great at pretending to do anything, whether it was a little white lie or something just to rile someone up, but there wasn’t much pretending about how tired she was or how confused she was in that moment; the blinking and the blank stare were all real, and in Nate’s eyes, borderline apocalyptic.

See, he’d been informed of her condition and spotty memory, but no one could say for certain just what was ‘in’ and what was ‘out’ because there were so many inconsistencies and no one had really wanted to poke around where there were gaps in case it just caused more frustration than hope, so this four word question? Completely believable.

He saw Mia laid in bed, and taking into consideration what he’d previously been told, he figured it made sense. That didn’t mean to say his face didn’t drop further or his stomach didn’t plummet to the floor below or he didn’t feel the familiar twang of bile rising or the world didn’t just flip on its axis.

His entire relationship flashed before his eyes: four years, a dog, a house, two cars, dates, holidays, vacations, inside jokes, and it all crumbled at his feet with a simple question.

He’d run through it in his head, the possibility that she might not remember him quite yet, and it was understandable. He wasn’t mad at all, in fact he was all too willing to take a step back and let her recover in a more familiar environment where he was potentially isolated from her and everything he knew, but that had only been a possibility. Now it was looking like a reality and the only thing he felt was panic. There were alarms blaring in his head, loud protests, screaming, yelling, tears.

And somehow all he could do was blink the tears back and create some space between himself and her bed. Emotionally he wasn’t sure how to proceed but he could physically feel an invisible hand pushing him back against the chair, away from her.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His eyes seemed well up of their own accord, and before he could even excuse himself from the room she spoke again.

“I was just kidding.” 

He blinked, his arms freezing from where he’d gone to push himself out of the chair, and he couldn’t really bring himself to move other than to drag his blurry eyes over to Mia, his jaw clenched and his guard still up just in case she still got it wrong.

He sniffled, inhaling through his nose, and not daring to ask if she was sure. But despite looking as though she’d been hit by a bus: a band-aid stuck right over her temple with stitches hidden underneath the plastic; purple eye bags; slow, lethargic blinking; an empty stare – Mia managed to look guilty. The corners of her mouth were pulled down, and her eyes were wide, almost like she couldn’t quite believe she’d pulled it off herself. 

And if he was being honest, Nate probably would have still had a hard time believing she actually did remember him if it wasn’t for her hand. It wasn’t something specific, but she’d placed it on his knee in a hurry when he’d made to push himself out of the chair, almost as if the prospect of him leaving wasn’t something to be desired. 

She was just as scared as he was.

Nate sniffled once more, allowing himself to settle into the chair and scoot forward again. The tears hadn’t disappeared, nor had the trembling, but his heart had eased up slightly once the realisation that, no, she hadn’t lost her memory of him had sunk in.

Then, and only then, he managed to speak, “You’re such a meanie.” It was more of a broken croak that had to be deciphered than something more intelligible than he would have liked, but after she winced at the volume of his voice already he found himself glad he sounded as broken as he felt.

She tried to smile, but her eyes fluttered shut of their own accord part way through the action, and she sighed, clearly completely drained, before rubbing her closed fist in a circle over her chest.

Sorry.

He shook his head despite the futility of it, and instead took the rather chilly, limp hand still resting on his knee into his grasp, leaning further forward so he was pretty much level with her. He allowed himself to breathe for a second, probably the first time he’d managed to do so since it had happened, and even though the tightness in his test remained, even though he still felt pretty emotional, he could at least look at her – like he’d done so many times in his life already – and know she was okay. 

Up close, he could see the plaster on her temple was darker in the centre and peeling at the edges slightly from where they’d pressed it into her hair, and on the other end he could see where someone – Mia herself – had started to pick at the edge, most likely out of curiosity. There was bruising along her cheekbone, and he knew from when he’d walked into the room in the first place that she had some other bruising on her jaw on the other side of her face from where she’d smacked into the grass.

That wasn’t even mentioning the dislocated shoulder, which, for now, was secured in a sling.

He was almost scared to touch her, not quite sure what would hurt or what wouldn’t, and before he could even deliberate any of that she was blinking again. Awake. She inhaled through her nose, wincing when her shoulder moved fractionally with the effort, and came to slowly. It was as though she was surveying the room for the first time again: her eyes were curious but not wide and she squinted at the light emanating from the little lamp, and Nate had to wait patiently for her to sweep her gaze around to him.

He tried a tight smile, his hands still clutching her free one in a warm embrace, and he could see the cogs benign to turn in her mind as she remembered when he’d come in. She eyed him sceptically, but this time (before his mind could run away from him) she gave him a lazy side-eye of sorts.

He breathed a laugh at the expression on her face, reaching over to smooth some of her hair down. He made sure to be gentle, not pulling on the hair too hard or pressing down on her head – rather just let it float back over to the right side of her parting, watching it fall as he did. He wasn’t quite sure what Mia had been expecting though because when he pulled back a little bit her mouth was pressed into a tight line.

“What?” He breathed a laugh, leaning forward on his palm to flick away more stray strands of hair. It seemed the closer he got the more he noticed that no one had taken particular care in brushing said strays out of her face, because he knew, even from looking at the way her nose kept twitching, that the tickling was intolerable. 

“When can we go home?” 

Nate swallowed, unable to look her in the eye as he shrugged. Nobody had told him anything. Her parents had left and told him as much as they could but they couldn’t say anything apart from the fact that she was okay – in fact, nobody even knew he was in here. His (almost) in-laws had gone to the cafeteria, running on nothing but coffee, and there hadn’t been anyone else really around when Nate heard the tell-tale sounds of…yeah. Needless to say he hadn’t really thought twice about bursting into the room to help her. She wouldn’t have if the situation was reversed, though from experience she did tend to lie to the medical professionals and just say they were married, something that had rather inconveniently slipped his mind in his panic-fueled state.

“I don’t know.” He whispered, if the quietness of his voice could even be considered such a thing. A fairy-whisper, perhaps: delicate, blink and you’ll miss it kind thing, “You’re on stroke watch, sweetheart, I don’t think it’ll be for another day or two.”

Her eyes shut again, and if it wasn’t for the tick in her jaw, Nate would have guessed she’d just fallen unconscious again.

“Are you okay?” He’d said them before he could stop himself. They’d been on the very tip of his tongue all day nearly, and his will had worn so low that he’d just given up and given in.

In all honesty, he wasn’t expecting much of a reply. Mainly because he knew concussions were hell on earth, especially fresh ones as bad as this, but also because she’d been poked, prodded, sewn up, and asked things already. She must be sick of it all, but…he had to know. 

She kept her eyes shut but her free shoulder shrugged as best as it could, “Hurts.” She mouthed.

Nate nodded, resisting the insurmountable urge to squeeze her hand and take all the pain from her, “Tap my hand twice for yes and once for no, ‘kay?” 

The corners of her mouth twitched upwards briefly, and he couldn’t help himself when he dropped a quick kiss on the back of her hand – though he couldn’t say for sure if it was supposed to help her more or help him more. 

Tap-tap.

“Do you need me to do anything? Get anything for you?”

She seemed to think about it for a second before pointing at something on the far end of the room and tapping his palm once.

He frowned. Lamp, no?

“Lamp off?” He thought out loud, pushing himself out of his chair eagerly when she tapped his palm twice again.

The thought of using the torch on his phone didn’t really occur to him when he was blindly trying to make his way back to his seat, and much to Mia’s dark amusement he walked into the end of the bed and tripped over the legs of two chairs on his way back. 

“Anything else?”

Tap.

He waved his hand in the dark near where he guessed her arm to still be held up, and dragged his fingers up her forearm to interlock their hands like before. 

“Is the dark better?”

Tap-tap.

He sighed. It wasn’t because he was fed up – not one of those sighs – or because he was relieved, per se. It almost felt like an instinct or a habit, like when he gets into bed and manages to find a comfy position, or when he steps out onto the ice first thing in the morning when no one else is around. It was a sigh of satisfaction, yet he didn’t feel at all satisfied by anything. Sure, he was happy that he’d adjusted something to Mia’s liking, but there was so much more he wanted to know.

Where did she hurt? How much did it hurt? Did she remember last night? Is she gonna recover in time for the play-offs? 

They weren’t yes or no answers, and the last thing he wanted was to bother her. She needed the peace and quiet and the dark and cold and someone to make sure she wasn’t going to stroke like someone had off-handedly said in the hallway. Nate knew he wasn’t the only person who could give her that, but he was glad it was him sitting there holding her hand and listening intently to the sound of her breathing and the rustling of her pillow.

It sounds crazy, he knows that, but he was horrified. Less than fifteen minutes ago he was so sure something life-changing had happened that meant he wouldn’t be allowed here. He knew head injuries were unpredictable, and he knew he should be somewhat irritated for the stunt she pulled earlier, asking if he was a doctor, but he couldn’t find it within himself to be so. That one interaction had alleviated the worries and concerns he’d had – the ones that were driving him to the brink of panic attacks pretty much – more than any words anyone had spoken to him over the entirety of the night so far.

It meant Mia was still Mia, and even though she might have changed, she was still the same person. And he was going to sit with her in the dark, holding her hand, pretending he was now okay, for as long as he was allowed–

“Are you okay?”

Even in the dark his eyes turned to look at where they knew she was. He was speechless for a few seconds having thought she was asleep and stuck so far in his own head that he hadn’t even considered the alternative.

He just hummed, which earned him a meaningful tap on the palm.

No.

“It was just scary for a minute, but I’m okay now.” Then he shook his head, almost-scoffing, “I should be asking you that.”

There was a half-hearted sigh, “Been better.”

***

Mia was sick and tired of the injuries after two days at home, bed-bound by a rather strict blonde that had a penchant for frowning and putting his hands on his hips when she suggested getting up and moving around. In all fairness, she could see where he was coming from, but in her defence she needed to know she was capable of a quick lap around the house, headaches and shoulder pains be damned. 

To have gone from training numerous hours per week – per day, in fact – to suddenly not being able to cope with being in a sunlit house in a room that wasn’t the bathroom or the bedroom. She was going stir crazy, and boredom was going to be her demise, she knew it. She could feel it atrophying her soul already and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could take being holed up in bed, not allowed to use screens or read or think.

Doctor’s orders. 

Although, having said all of that, Mia did find herself waking up from a nap she didn’t remember succumbing to most of the time. She must have slept on and off all day for two days, but it felt like she’d not even shut her eyes for an entire week. And the pain, oh, the pain.

Her shoulder ached each time she so much as tensed something, though that was the least of it: the dislocation hadn’t been too ugly – quickly put back in, no soft-tissue damage. Didn’t stop it hurting, though. The biggest issue, Mia couldn’t quite get a hold of. She couldn’t decipher what was the concussion, what was the temple laceration or what was the bump on the head from the ground. Somewhere along the lines, all the pain blurred into one and it just felt like her head was splitting open from the inside.

The door creaked open gently, firstly with a soft pop, like the familiar noise of when Barney would push it open with his muzzle and the handle would click out of its place, before a familiar soft pat-pat of paws could be heard vaguely padding across the carpet. It if wasn’t for Nate’s strict rule-abiding of orders (he did right, to be honest), the sound of Barney preparing himself to jump onto the bed wouldn’t have been heard. In fact, if it wasn’t for the noise of the door clicking open, Mia probably wouldn’t have blinked awake again. 

It was dark outside, the lights from the garden shining through under the blackout blinds. It wasn’t bright enough to trigger anymore headaches or a potential migraine, what with the bouncing agony from her bruises and bumps doing enough already, but it was enough to cast a sliver of dull light across the bedspread.

Mia reached out blindly, patting the duvet next to her, already anticipating the soft bark of acknowledgement before the toffee spaniel had made his way into her personal space, his nose pressed against her thigh as he laid out right next to her. She ran a loving hand through his fur.

Nate hadn’t let Barney in the room without him watching, mostly because he was a little unsure as to whether the newly-trained dog would adhere to the ‘calm’ rule he’d hoped to implement somehow, and Mia had commented on it, a quick ‘he’s a dog, they have senses for this kind of thing’, and all Nate did was sigh and watch on with a worried gaze. Needless to say, Barney hadn’t barked in her face excitedly or run across the bed or unintentionally nudged anything he shouldn’t have done, and Mia couldn’t quite tell if he was in the room now because Nate had let him upstairs or if it was just a happy accident.

Barney sniffed, and Mia paused, holding her breath in the darkness. At the same time, Barney’s ears flopped and the steps creaked, before an unmissable hiss of, “Barney?” could be heard from further down the hallway.

She felt her eyes shut again, sleep begging to reach out and pull her under again – it was the dog, he was just so warm and cuddly she was practically being lulled back to sleep with his rhythmic breathing – but she resisted, instead focusing on the hand woven into his fur until Nate inevitably noticed the crack in the door.

He didn’t say anything when he opened the door even further, didn’t say anything when he crept around to his side of the bed before pulling himself onto the mattress, the covers dipping with his weight. Barney looked up at him, and Mia felt rather than saw his hand also go to pet the dog between them.

She lifted her hand, before briefly ticking his arm to let him know she was awake, and cracked her eyes open. 

He was in his pyjamas, clearly already having showered. He’d taken to using the spare bathroom instead of the en-suite, completely adamant on not wanting to disturb Mia even though she’d told him she wouldn’t mind, and Mia knew, probably better than most people, that it was difficult to change Nate’s mind when he’d already decided what he was gonna do. 

“Did Barney wake you up?” He whispered, pushing himself further into the bedding. Mia could feel the warmth radiating off his skin, could smell the shower gel and shampoo he liked. He’d literally just gotten out of the shower.

If she had more energy she would have turned to look at him: there was something about post-shower Nathan MacKinnon that Mia found downright irresistible. In four years, she still hadn’t managed to figure out what it was, but it definitely had something to do with the flushed cheeks,  damp hair and untamed curls. 

As much as he tried to tidy it with gel, Nate couldn’t escape the fact that his hair could be wild, and in the last couple of years it had only gotten worse.

“No, I was already awake.” She whispered, the force of trying to talk still putting more pressure on her bumps and cuts. Whenever she spoke out loud it felt like her eyes were going to pop out of her head and her ears were going to bleed. It wasn’t the most comfortable feeling in the world.

She turned her head in his direction, just able to make out the silhouette of his side profile: crooked nose, damp Prince hair, philtrum, mouth, chin. She couldn’t turn her head too much to the side, the lump around the back of her head making getting comfy even against a pillow difficult, yet the slight movement, slight rustle of the sheets had him almost instantly turning towards her. That was something she’d noticed that had changed: he seemed to jump at anything she did, whether it be to reach a hand out to grab her water bottle or simply turn to look at him.

She could imagine the wide eyed gaze as he scanned her face for signs of pain until he relaxed when he realised that all it was was shuffling. The alarm bells were still ringing.

There was a brief pause, and Mia took her hand out of Barney’s fur to poke Nate in the ribs. He jumped at the contact, still unused to the darkness, and grabbed her hand to stop her doing it again, breathing a soft, amused laugh, “Liar.”

“I was gonna wake up soon anyway.” 

“You hungry?” 

“Yeah.”

Mia felt herself relax under his touch, his fingers playing with hers, finding their way in the dark across the back of her hands right around to her palms before straightening her fingers and placing a delicate yet hurried kiss to the back of her hand. She didn’t even have enough time to query exactly what it was he was about to do before he’d pushed himself up off the bed, Barney sitting attentively, and placed his hands on his hips leisurely. 

“You want anything specific?” Nate asked, absent-mindedly placing his leg on the bed to stretch out his hamstring. 

“What did you have?”

“Chicken and chorizo pasta.”

“Can I have some of that, please? It sounds so good right now.”

There was a muffled sound, crossed between a sarcastic scoff and a snort of laughter, “No. You absolutely cannot have it right now–”

“No–”

“Yeah, we’re gonna do your dressing first. C’mon.”

Mia groaned, pulling the duvet back up to her chin to give her some protection before Nate would undoubtedly just rip it off her and pick her up, like he had the past four times he’d changed her dressing. The first time she did it there was little resistance from her end, mostly because she had no idea that cleaning the wound was going to be that nauseating, but also because she literally couldn’t be bothered trying to resist a hockey player that boarded men twice her size on a regular basis. 

Now, though? Not only did she despise the entire process, but she couldn’t deny the fact that being difficult was rather amusing for her – mostly because of how Nate handled it, because he handles it. She’s never heard him talk so much yet so calmly all whilst trying to scoop her up without simultaneously accidentally hurting her.

“-five seconds and it’ll be done until tomorrow, and if you think about it–”  he made his way around to Mia’s side of the bed and she felt her face screw up in dread almost automatically when he began trying to tug at the duvet she’d gripped as tightly as she could, “-if you really think about it, the food is kind of like a reward, and it’s better to get it done now rather than spend the next, like, forty minutes worrying about it–” he sighed, cutting himself off and staring at the scene in front of him. Mia knew him well enough to know stillness and silence meant he was thinking.

“What are you–Put me down.” Mia watched as Barney scurried off the bed, the duvet disappearing under him as Nate managed to force his arms underneath her body to lift her up, duvet and all. 

“Never.” He breathed in her ear before laughing like a Disney villain, managing to somehow look down at his feet to make sure he didn’t trip and cause another trip to the ER, and no matter how much she moaned and groaned, Nate didn’t put her down until he’d made it to the bathroom and placed her ever-so-gently on top of the lid of the toilet.

It was cold against the plastic, much colder than the sanctuary of the bed with a dog cuddled up to her side, and Mia shivered in her shorts and t-shirt, goosebumps arising on her skin – something that didn’t exactly go unnoticed by Nate. He took one look at her shivering and opened the bathroom blinds to let in some dull, natural light before turning around and grabbing a sweatshirt from the pile of clothes on the floor he hadn’t had chance to tidy away, what with the hustle and bustle of trying to look after everyone (not that he minded; in fact, Nate loved looking after Mia, even though he’d never voice it, but the circumstances surrounding the situation were a little too shitty for his liking), and tossed it to her.

What he really wanted to do was tell her to lift her arms over her head, but he knew coddling someone who already hated people doing things for them would only make the irritation worse, and instead reached for the basket of supplies he’d been given from the hospital, along with the set of instructions and the bowl for Mia as a ‘just in case’...the last thing anyone wanted, including Barney, was a repeat of the first time he’d done this. 

He could still picture it so clearly in his head.

When he turned back around, trying to read the pamphlet by moonlight and garden-light, Mia had her eyes closed and was running her fingers through her hair, wincing each time she accidentally pulled a knot. 

He couldn’t help watching her for a moment, almost mesmerised that someone could power through that amount of pain administered by themselves. Gosh, he loved her to smithereens.

“You ready?” He propped himself on the edge of the bathtub, back hunched over slightly to get himself eye-level with the plaster stuck to her temple. It was thick, most likely incredibly uncomfortable, and half-stuck in her hair. It was the only way the stitches into her hairline would be protected when she was laid down, or doing anything, really.

She nodded, and he kept his eyes fixated on her side profile, eager to drink in any possible changes in her expression that meant she was uncomfortable with anything he did. Sometimes it was a miniscule scrunch of her brows, other times it was an involuntary wince displayed by her mouth. He’d noticed her breathing changed when she was in pain too, which was a rather odd thing to come to recognise – watching someone you cared about hurt was one thing, but to watch them be in pain so constantly that you can recognise the little things? It was strange.

“I’m so hungry.” Was all she said, scooping her hair to the other side as he leant forwards to start to pick at one of the edges. It didn’t take much. He wasn’t even sure if Mia was aware she was doing it, but there was one edge right above her cheekbone that had been so obviously picked at that all he really had to do was grab onto the corner and slowly and cautiously pull. He kept one palm on the side of her head at all times, ensuring her hair remained out of the stickiness, his eyes darting from what he was doing to her face every few seconds.

Once he’d removed the plaster completely he folded it in half, balancing it on the side of the bath before doing something he’d not been able to do yet: dampen a clean washcloth with water, and gently dab the stitches. 

Mia’s face contorted almost immediately, the corners of her eyes crinkled and her mouth pulled up at the corners in a grimace, but she held still, keeping her gaze level and forward, hands clutching the bowl on her lap.

“Let me know if you want me to take a break or if I’m pressing too hard, okay?” Nate murmured softly, still dabbing at the wound.

He was never really one to be able to stomach the sight of wounds – at games he didn’t really have a choice, but at least then he could avert his eyes when he saw something that made his stomach turn and his head spin. This time was a little bit different, in fact, this entire situation was completely different because it was one thing thinking about it and another thing doing it for Mia. He had to do this, partly because he wasn’t about to let Mia do it herself, but mostly because he didn’t trust anyone else not to press too hard or to take as much care in the job as he did. It wasn’t a lot, but he made sure he did it right and softly.

It was the absolute least he could do after sneaking away for an hour here and there to practise. Mel Landeskog had offered to come over and keep watch when he wasn’t there, and the entire time he was gone he’d been anxiously checking his phone a hundred times a minute, waiting for a heart-stopping message to come through, and he hadn't managed to tear himself away again. The guilt was one thing, but the anxiety just ate him up from the inside. 

Tomorrow he decided he’d just work out in the bedroom – at least it’d give Mia something to watch when the TV was off-limits. 

“You’re doing great.” Mia sighed, peeling open the eye closest to him and shooting an amused glance in his direction. She was exhausted, but she still managed to find the effort bother to ease his concerns, “I think tomorrow…” She trailed off, silently hissing when Nate dabbed the laceration once more.

“Sorry.” He cringed, putting the washcloth down.

“It’s fine. Tomorrow I wanna move downstairs.” She got out, relaxing once she’d taken note of the put away cloth, and turned her body towards him.

He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing with his face but it was clearly something that warranted Mia to start spouting words so quickly he wasn’t entirely sure she was able to do with that bad of a concussion, “The curtains in the front room can stay shut but I kind of want to slowly let myself get used to some light again, and I won’t watch TV or anything.” 

He swallowed, going to pick up the dry washcloth, “What’s wrong with staying in bed?”

She rolled her eyes, “It’s shit, I feel like I’m missing out on what’s going on.”

Nate tilted his head curiously, “Nothing’s going on, though. Are you trying to tell me you’ve got FOMO from staying in the bedroom?”

“Yeah. I feel like our living room is, like, the life of this house. Everything happens downstairs.” She reasoned, returning back to her usual position when he raised the washcloth.

“Everything, huh?” He breathed, slowly wiping away the beads of water on her stitches, and those that had escaped and ran down to her jaw, “Guess that means you’ll have to camp out on the couch then. Can't have you miss anything, can we?”

Mia rolled her eyes, and Nate smirked to himself, pleased that she was clearly well enough to tolerate a bit of humour. It was the most alive she’d looked since it happened: she had more colour in her cheeks, something he’d even noticed through the constant darkness; her awake periods were longer than her asleep periods, and she was speaking more. Granted, that was an improvement from that very morning, but she was getting better at a quicker rate than he’d anticipated. Every hour seemed to ease the tightness in his chest, at least until he remembered–

Yep. There it is. The painful twinge of guilt that always seemed to strike him when he least expected it.

He swallowed anxiously, suddenly aware of a breeze against his torso and the faint tugging of his cotton shirt. The distance from where he was sitting on the edge of the bath to the toilet seat where Mia was sitting wasn’t a large one by any means, but it was still tricky enough for him to sit on the very edge to ensure he wasn’t stretching – it was why he had to look down at the culprit, half-expecting it to be Barney slobbering everywhere, and was pleasantly surprised to find a familiar hand trying to get his attention.

He pulled his own hand away from Mia’s head, placing the cloth on the side of the bath once he was satisfied the stitches were dry again before turning back to Mia to give her his full attention. She hadn’t bothered to turn her head, but was instead looking at him out of the corner of her eye, brow narrowed and a slightly suspicious look on her face.

“What?” He asked, automatically wiping at his cheek, expecting a streak of dirt to follow on his palm. Nothing.

Mia just blinked, “Are you okay? You kind of spaced out for a bit then.”

“Spaced out?” He echoed, shaking his head. 

Mia hummed, something subtly changing in her expression, “Away with the fairies.”

“Haven’t heard that one in a while.” He raised his brows before letting them drop. He wondered briefly if she was buying his ‘chill’ persona at that moment, hidden in the dark with no real way of knowing what face he was pulling. His back was to the light so he knew he was mostly shrouded in darkness – protected from an observant eye.

The same observant eye that clearly didn’t let up, no matter how splotchy her memory or how much pain she was in, because he heard her tilt her head at him, he heard her brain call him a ‘liar’ and he heard her breathe an internal sigh.

“I’m fine.” He said, shrugging his shoulders. The action felt pathetic, like something a stroppy teenager might do after getting scolded. 

Her silence said everything and nothing at the same time.

“I am. I guess I’m just coming to terms with the fact that this is how awful you must feel when I’m in your position after a game.” He mumbled it, but Mia still managed to pick his words out pretty easily – as well as the blatant pretence he immediately then displayed when he turned his attention purposefully to the basket at his feet, bending to pick up a tub of vaseline before taking the lid off and washing his hands once more.

She knew enough to know that when he acted nonchalant after admitting something was bothering him, no matter how little a thing it might seem, that sometimes he just needed that extra little dose of reassurance.

“At least you can understand why I banned you from getting head injuries, then.” She answered, turning herself so she was facing forwards once more, allowing him access to the stitches.

Nate paused, an uncertain ‘meh’ falling out of his mouth, which earned him an incredibly sharp look, “I mean I can, but now I could probably guess you get why I can’t promise you anything because most of these head injuries come from other people.” He was met with silence but he could feel the irritation practically emanating off Mia. Whenever he was right in situations where they’d had small disagreements here and there, usually about some pedantic aspect like this one, she always went dead-silent when he brought up something true. It wasn’t necessarily that she hadn’t thought of it, because the chances were that she had and it was that thing that drove her crazy, but it was knowing what she was asking was completely out of anyone’s control.

“Oh, and for the record,” Nate started, carefully spreading the vaseline against her skin and fighting the uncomfortable tingling in his toes when he ran his finger over the stitches, “I’m also banning you from getting head injuries.”

“I can try.”

He grinned, “‘S all I ask.”

“Me too.”

***

Mia wasn’t sure how long he’d been doing his little…routine. 

Every time he left a room she was in, whether it was to go to another room to pick something up and bring it back or to leave the house entirely, he’d started doing some odd things. First he’d watch her – this, she noticed him doing out of the corner of her eye – like he was giving her a once-over with a pair of X-Ray goggles, no matter how far away from her he was. Then, he’d pretend to look for something, a tissue, maybe, that just happened to be within a five foot radius of where she was sitting, and he used that ploy as an excuse to ‘walk by’ and plant a very quick kiss on the top of her head.

It might not seem odd to anyone else, but it was odd to Mia, mostly because Nate was never really the type to do stuff like that, much less when he was simply leaving the room. He might have done it if she was busy with something and he was off to the gym for an hour or two, but never for simple things. He just wasn’t that type of person.

At first she’d thought nothing of it. Maybe he just liked having her downstairs instead of shut up in the bedroom in the dark all day? That was certainly plausible. 

But then each time he did it, the action seemed to become more noticeable. Like when you hear something irritating in the background – a bird or a screechy voice – and then when you try to block it out your ears seem completely intent on honing in on that one singular thing until it becomes so glaringly obvious and unignorable that you just can’t stand it anymore. The only difference was that Mia could tolerate it, she could definitely tolerate it, in fact she welcomed it. Not only was it a rare and casual display of affection, but it was rare that they’d both be off work for this length of time and be in the house together. 

It was usually an impossible juggle of calendars and flights.

Then, because she’d noticed his little routine, she waited for it. There were a couple of times where he’d carried it out before he even announced he was leaving, a couple of times where he said where he was going first, and then – most interestingly – there were several occasions where he’d stepped out of the room, not said anything, frozen a step out of the doorway and come striding back in with intent and purpose before kissing her on the mouth or cheek depending on what she was doing. It was like he physically couldn’t stomach the thought of not completing his ritual.

It was remarkably similar to his behaviour on game days: he had a minute by minute schedule and order to do things so deeply ingrained in his mind that completing one thing slightly differently would throw everything off completely. He’d obsess over one thing and he wouldn’t be able to focus properly until he’d done it ‘right’, or he’d take it as a sign something bad was going to happen. 

One time he’d almost burnt the chicken in the oven and managed to assume that because he’d eaten burnt chicken (Mia had argued that it was charred nicely – properly done) that his pregame coffee wouldn’t have the same effect and he’d accidentally let his bowels go on the ice, and he’d be worrying about it for the entire game.

There was also the habit he’d taken to performing on Mia’s matchdays, at least when he was there to do it. He’d wake up around the same time Mia did and he insisted on filling her water bottle ready to go and he insisted on seeing her out the door (a kiss accompanied with a rather humorous but altogether fond, “kill ‘em”). If she was being completely honest, Mia found more familiarity in his behaviour this time around with her pre-game thing.

“Alright, come on.” It was Nate’s voice as he threw his car keys up and down, the metal jangling as he somehow materialised right in front of Mia, holding a hand out for her to grab. 

She paused, staring for a moment before following his arm to his face, raising a confused eyebrow. 

Come on? Come on where? As far as she was aware they didn’t have any plans, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to have plans considering her brain detested any kind of light brighter than a golden, dim one you might find in a lamp – and that wasn’t even mentioning noise. Anything louder than Barney’s huffing was a no-go if she wanted to have a headache-free day, and that very much included talking.

Nate had never been so quiet around her before, and she couldn’t deny the fact that it was amusing to watch him go to talk before remembering he had to whisper. He’d open his mouth and make a noise, the first sound in a word, and immediately clamp his mouth shut and hunch his shoulders, almost wincing for Mia. 

“Hospital.” Nate murmured softly, splaying his palm to encourage her to take it, and Mia’s mind went blank.

It must have showed on her face because Nate swallowed, the smile on his face diminishing, a rather helpless, “Remember? Your stitches are getting taken out today.” 

“Oh. Yeah.” Mia blinked, the lie shockingly falling out of her mouth before she could catch it, “And today is…”

“Wednesday.” Whatever trace of a smile was left on his face that hadn’t already been wiped was completely gone, replaced by concerned brows and a flat line of a mouth.

“Yeah.” Mia didn’t say anything else, mostly out of fear of stressing him out even more, but partly because she wasn’t sure what else could be said.

She reached for his waiting hand, the warmth from his skin seeping into hers, and it was only as she’d stood up – perhaps a little too quickly because the blood rushed to her head – that she could recognise the look on his face was a little more familiar. He was still getting used to the usual worries of watching someone else heal.

“Confusion and brain fog is pretty normal, y’know?” He framed it like a question, but they both knew he was reassuring the little voice in both their heads that screamed something deeper was clearly wrong. Mia just nodded, accepting the baseball cap, eye mask and sunshades he’d just handed her, trying her best not to wobble when he ever-so-carefully tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

There was something about his close proximity that she’d had to endure within the last few days that subtly changed something for her – maybe it was the vulnerability of this entire ordeal; she’d reached a new level of Nate having to look after her considering the fact that she was almost fully dependent on him. In her eyes a switch had been flicked somewhere, and their relationship had just rocketed upwards in intensity. Every little glance he’d snuck at her, even if it was just to check to see if she was okay, and every little thoughtful gesture he’d carried out, all combined with the closer proximity and steady, reassuring hand made her feel a little woozy in a completely different way.

It was why she hurriedly put the cap on so she wouldn’t have to look at him, because she knew what those damned pale blue eyes were doing, and also why she didn’t bother asking about the eye mask, although the use of that became abundantly clear when she climbed into the car.

He wanted to hide the sun for her.

***

“What about your memory? Has any of that changed for you yet, or do you still have those same holes we identified earlier?” 

Mia winced, taking the hand offered to her and squeezed, determined not to look like she was in too much pain. The doctor that was removing her stitches was doing an alright job (she thought at least, she couldn’t say she was an expert), but there was something almost nauseating about the tugging she could feel on the side of her head, especially with how sore and tender her temple already was. 

And the questions weren’t helping, not at all. 

She inhaled through her nose, fighting to keep her voice even, “Some of it’s changed, I guess.” Nate squeezed back three times, “I can remember more of that morning and the lead up days, but I still have moments where I…it’s brain fog, I guess.”

“Oh, yes,” the doctor voiced, and the lack of shock and concern in their voice almost had Mia raising a celebratory fist, “that’s understandable and expected, just as long as it wasn’t anything too important or too obvious?”

“No, I just forgot what day it was.”

The doctor let out a low chuckle, “I think we’ve all been there. There’s nothing like showing up for work on your off-day because you’d been so busy you forgot to check the date. It’s both a blessing and a curse.”

“Tell me about it.” Mia muttered under her breath, almost deaf to the low laughs from both sides of her as she kept her eyes screwed shut. The blinds in the room were all open, and to top that off the doctor had one of those head torches on, the light glaring even through her closed eyelids. It kept bouncing around her vision as they moved their head, presumably to look at the tray to their right and then to look back at Mia’s head and so on, and she could feel the familiar niggle of something start to prick at the back of her head.

“Okay, stitches are out. Just one moment and I’ll shut the blinds for you.” She felt her own shoulders deflate of their own accord, the tension quite literally seeping out of her once she heard the wheel of the office chair followed by the pair of footsteps walking towards the windows.

It was only when the room appeared to be enveloped in darkness that she opened her eyes. Nate had the stitch-care pamphlet in his hand again, a pen in the pocket of his shirt, and even as the doctor was explaining the next steps for care he wasn’t opting to write much down. Mia half suspected he’d already done extensive research and memorised the care leaflets anyway, but he was always gonna be drinking in information from someone more qualified than what his laptop told him.

The grip he had on her hand had loosened, and the more she looked at him, Mia could see that it was his shoulders that seemed to be tense. It almost looked as though her uncomfortability had been passed directly to him because he was sitting pinstraight in the chair pulled up and he looked so dead serious Mia felt the urge to poke him in the ribs. Let him know he needed to chill a bit more.

It wasn’t anything the doctor was saying, in fact, it couldn’t have been anything the doctor was saying because that body language and that stern, rather timid look on his face didn’t let up, not even three hours later when Mia had curled up on the couch and Nate had taken residence wedged at the other end with a bowl of food – Mia’s to be precise. He’d given her too much and she couldn’t finish it without thinking it was all gonna come back up later, so he’d hoovered up the last of it.

He still looked on edge about something.

So she poked him with her foot, toes meeting a solid thigh.

He chewed, the muscles in his jaw working as his neck snapped to look at her. There was a slight crack in his demeanour then, that brief moment where he thought she was getting his attention for the worst kind of reason, but it had dissolved before she could dwell on it too much.

“Why are you being weird?” She asked, tilting her head and faking an overly suspicious glance that had him freezing right where he was.

His eyes darted across her face, seemingly searching for something to grab on to, but when he came up with nothing he finished his mouthful and shook his head, fiercely denying her accusation.

“I’m not being weird.” He mumbled, a crease between his brows.

Mia pulled a face, “You’re being so weird.”

“How am I being weird?”

Mia gaped, eyes darting to his bowl when his hand trembled and his fork clinked against the porcelain. That one little weakness was enough proof because he blinked at his hand before almost comically turning towards Mia, his cheeks a little red.

“That for one.” Mia pointed out, “And that thing you do when you leave the room, what’s that about? And you were being super weird at the doctor's appointment the other day.”

He huffed a laugh, still staring at her incredulously, “Aren’t you chatty today?”

“I feel so much better.”

“Can tell, you haven’t shut up.”

“I’ve got, like, two weeks of talking to get out of my system, don’t I?” She paused, taking a breath, “Even so, you haven’t answered my question.” Another foot poke.

He hesitated, before ultimately deciding to put his bowl on the coffee table in front of them. Mia watched every move carefully, a hint of foreboding settling in her bones as he reached over to mute the TV. She thought breaching the topic of Nate’s weirdness wouldn’t bring this level of wracked nerves, or this unreached height of seriousness – there wasn’t anything she was aware of that warranted him to do all of those things and then also turn to face her.

“Okay, so, you know how you couldn’t remember stuff after the head injuries, and then you said you could remember stuff at the hospital?” 

Mia nodded, cemented in her spot, unable to say anything.

“How much do you remember of the night before?” 

Mia had seen movies like this: whenever a character asked a question of that gravity with that grave, worried expression on their face, there was always a catastrophic confession coming next.

The difference between those kinds of movie scenes and this one was that Mia remembered the night before. And none of what she remembered would require this level of…solemnity. At all. Absolutely none of it.

She came home from work, they both talked about their days, a movie with dinner, then bedtime. Nothing spectacular.

“Everything.” She said, and this time it was her turn to frown, “Why?”

Nate inhaled, scratching his chin unsurely, before looking her straight in the eye, and with a completely flat voice spat out – with conviction – “I think we’re fighting.”

Mia waited for a moment, just the one, thinking maybe he’d say he was joking or he’d take it back, and when it became clear he wasn’t going to, she laughed.

He had to be joking.

And the fact that he let out a few breaths of laughter himself made her think that he was, but all of that came to a grinding halt when he shut up and instead patted her shin sympathetically, no trace of amusement on his face whatsoever. 

“I’m being serious, sweetheart.”

Mia sighed, the aching in her head returning. The headaches from the concussion had started to subside lately, and the stitches on her temple were healing nicely, it was just the bump that still ached from time to time, from where she’d fallen on the ground. The lump was still there, it was a bit more stubborn than her shoulder and everything else.

“You think we’re fighting or you know?”

He shrugged, “You told me about LA and we–we fought.”

“About LA?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s not how I remember it.”

“How do you remember it?”

***

“What did you say?”

Nate froze, the blood in his body going cold at what Mia had just said, and so offhandedly, too. Like it wasn’t this big thing that could change things. Mia had her back to him, licking some honey sauce off a finger before putting on the oven gloves and placing the tray in the oven.

“I told them I’d think about it but I’m gonna say no.” Mia practically rolled her eyes.

In what world would she have said yes? Really. She couldn’t even begin to picture a new life in LA, and for that the answer she’d given them on the phone then and there was a sure ‘no’. She knew without even having to talk to anyone else or think too much about it to know what she was going to do. It had really been that easy.

And, rather naively, Mia had assumed Nate would also have known that.

Only, when she spun on her heel after shutting the oven door, Nate had a strange look on his face: he’d come from a full day of training in the gym so naturally he looked a little haggard anyway – pink cheeks, tired eyes – but that didn’t explain the deep furrow between his brows or the fractional tilt of his head or the unpursed mouth. No, that all equated to confusion, Mia had seen him wear that exact face before. And in this case, his confusion pertained to that of her own loyalty. 

He breathed a short laugh, a ‘huh’, and Mia put one hand on her hip, raising a brow.

“Why?” His voice was tentative, but there was a hint of curiosity that Mia dreaded to wonder the cause of.

“Does it matter?” She heard her voice waver, pitch higher and her metaphorical hackles raise in defence. 

She’d never felt that before with Nate.

He shrugged, moving to sit on an island stool, hands clasped together in front of him, forearms pressed against the marble. His hair looked blonder in the harsh lighting, almost blinding, and when he looked up to speak Mia had to avert her eyes, “Not necessarily,” there was a ‘but’ coming, Mia could sense it, “but what were the conditions?”

Mia shrugged, “Three years to start and a bit more money.”

“How much more?”

Mia felt her eyes widen, “Not a lot. Why are you so interested in this?”

“Because you’re my girlfriend and I love you and I want to know where your head’s at.” He blurted it all out after one miniscule moment of hesitation, it couldn’t have been more than half a second, and if it weren’t for the way his hands fell flat against the marble in a display of clear honesty, Mia might have thought he had an ulterior motive.

His contract only had one season left, too. It was a pretty damn odd time for two athletes in Colorado, especially when both of their futures were kind of up in the air. It went without saying that Nate wanted to stay and Mia wanted to stay, but there was also that incredibly slim chance that neither of them did, and they were both a little too afraid to even broach the subject of what would happen if someone got to stay and the other didn’t.

And whether she realised it or not, the ‘can I think about it?’ that had fallen from her mouth when she’d first gotten the LA call – even despite knowing the answer already – had been because of that. She needed a contingency, she needed to go to Colorado with proof that she was wanted elsewhere if she wanted to fight to stay.

And if it weren’t for his hands then, Mia would have stayed at her own side of the counter. Instead, she made her way around to him, pulled her own stool out next to his and twisted her body so she was facing him, her knees knocking gently against the side of his thigh.

“I want to stay in Colorado. I love it here, I have my family, I have my friends, teammates, a dog, you. I have an entire life and the last thing I’d want is to leave it all behind for more money in LA. We’re not exactly short of it in the first place, and it’s not my priority.” She said, as firmly and as gently as she could muster. There was a lull, Nate looking at her carefully, chewing the inside of his lip.

His eyes were darting across the planes of her face as though he was searching for hints of something he’d never find. It was only when she stuck her tongue out at him that he leant on his elbow, his head pointed in her direction.

“And your priority is…”

“Me, I guess. I want to be happy.”

He nodded, “And you’re happy here?”

Mia smiled, “I’m happy here. In Colorado. In this house. In this kitchen. On this chair. With you.” 

It was almost as though the smile on his own face was there without ever really being known to him; the corners of his mouth were turned down but his face was smiling, as though the blush on his cheeks had frozen the rest of him.

“With me?”

“I’m surprised too.” 

***

“Yeah, and then you didn’t talk to me for the rest of the night and you left without saying goodbye and the next time I see you you’re on a hospital bed.” He threw his arms up in a questioning manner, a deeply confused half-smile, half-scowl as Mia recoiled, having severe difficulty in trying to understand his perspective.

“I didn’t ignore you, okay? We were watching a movie and I was tired.” 

Nate spluttered, briefly turning away before turning back to face Mia, who was now grinning like she knew something he didn’t, “What about in the morning?”

“Easy explanation.” Mia shrugged, “I told Iona about the LA offer and she called me at six in the morning to get me into the office to finalise contract terms with Colorado.”

Nate opened his mouth, about to say something before he stopped. He was about to ask why he wasn’t woken up, but at that exact moment his brain seemed to digest the latter half of what was said.

Finalise contract terms with Colorado.

And then he was talking without his brain really knowing what he was saying, “Wait, you finalised a contract with Colorado?”

Mia nodded, “Yeah. It’s pretty much the same deal as what LA offered.”

“How similar?”

Mia raised a mischievous brow, and Nate knew what was going to be said next was about to blow his mind. When she looked at him like that, something was gonna happen, and he felt his heart quicken for an entirely different reason than what he’d become used to lately – anticipation. The good kind.

“Five years and a little bit more per annum than what LA offered.”

He blinked. Heart beat six times before he found the breath in his lungs and the voice in his throat, “Five years?” His voice wavered completely against his will, it came out all breathy and mushy, and he wasn’t in control of his own bodily reactions to the load of relief that had cleared itself from his shoulders, not even when he felt his eyes begin to prick with emotion again.

Mia’s smile diminished at his reaction, it didn’t disappear, but the edges were a little softer, more understanding, perhaps. She’d been through a lot lately: hospital appointments, days in bed in pain, meetings with her people, recovery plans, and the one thing she’d been able to rely on this entire time was the big softie sitting right in front of her, getting uncharacteristically emotional at the prospect of her signing on for another five years.

And Mia knew how his mind worked. He’d probably been preparing himself for some part of his life to change, whether it be him moving out of state or Mia moving out of state – so much so that he probably hadn’t been able to let himself even think about both of them staying. There had been a countdown in his head for months.

“Yeah.” She answered, reaching out to grab his forearm. Somewhere in the midst of the clarification conversation he’d turned to sit straight, limbs locked against his torso and hands placed neatly in his lap. She pulled the nearest forearm over to her, using as much of her strength as she could possibly muster, listening to the aching of her shoulder and patting him to get the message across, and he turned his head to look at her again, a watery smile on his face as he lifted his shoulder up and tugged her into his side.

“I’m proud of you, y’know?” He pressed his forehead to the corner of hers, incredibly mindful of any soreness that he knew to still persist, and slumped against the cushions of the couch so he was more laid, legs sprawled out on the floor in front of him.

Mia rolled her eyes fondly, comfortably adjusting herself in his embrace. Even with a short sleeved t-shirt he was warm – kind of like a massive human teddy bear. Always a great hugger, something she’d actually missed the last couple of weeks, “I haven't signed the contract yet, I was a bit preoccupied after the match.”

She felt him pull away, and when she turned to look at him, his eyes had cleared, that familiar bright blue almost dazzling in the light, and he wore an expression of chagrin, “Hey, I know we talked about it earlier, but you’re really not allowed to get a head concussion again, ever. That shit’s way too scary.”

Mia just levelled him with a knowing expression and he read it easily, muttering a heartfelt, “Congratulations, honey. You’re stuck with me for another five years.”

[rhyrhy]

Vital signs ـــــــــﮩ٨ـ

Greys anatomy AU! Doctor- Abby Anderson

Series mlist | moodboards | fourth Chapter (you are here)

Four: Giving in 🩺

⚕️ summary: At St. Mary’s Hospital, the rules are simple. Saving lives, avoiding attachment, and never going overboard. However, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to stay within those boundaries because of the eyes that the head of cardio constantly directs at you.

The apartment is dimly lit when you and Dina finally step inside, exhaustion hanging off you both like a second skin. You kick off your shoes, groaning as you stretch out your arms.

Dina flops onto the couch, rubbing her face. “I swear, I can still hear monitors beeping.”

You smirk, dropping your bag by the door. “Yeah, that’s called trauma.”

She peeks at you through her long fingers, then grins. “So, Jesse was on fire today. Another attempt at charming me.”

You roll your eyes, making your way to the fridge for a water bottle. “That man is nothing if not persistent.” You sigh deeply.

“Do you think I should let him down easy? Or let him suffer?”

You chuckle, twisting off the cap. “Let him sweat a little. Keeps him humble. Grounded”

She laughs before stretching out, getting comfortable. You take a moment to glance around—boxes almost fully unpacked, pictures starting to go up. This place is yours now. It feels real.

Dina eyes you as you move toward your room. “Hey, are you okay?”

You nod. “Yeah. Just need a shower.”

You weren’t okay. Your mind was pulling you in more directions than you had limbs. On one hand, you wanted to stay away from Abby. Keep it professional, respect the resident-intern dynamic. But how could you possibly do that when Dr. Anderson is, well, herself? Beautiful, put together, and had a gaze that weekend that made your knees weak. She was keeping her distance, but you always felt her eyes. Redoing your hair one morning when you got put on rounds assisting her. Chewing on your bottom lip when her arm would flex under her navy scrub top. 

Yeah, you were far from okay. These restless thoughts were taking over.

The bathroom is filled with steam as the hot water cascades down your back. You tilt your head up, eyes closed, letting it ease the tension from your shoulders.

But it doesn’t help. Not really.

Because despite the exhaustion, despite how badly you should be crashing into bed right now, your mind keeps replaying the past few days. The elevator. The teasing. The way Abby looked at you. The way she always looked at you. Like you were still the woman in the bar, the woman whose face she’d pulled into a kiss, stumbling into her bedroom.  But you were her, no matter how much you tried to separate the two. She, that woman, was you. You weren’t sure what kind of stunt the universe was pulling, but it was undeniably you at the end of the day. And with the open invite of hiking still lingering over your head, it was clear Dr. Anderson wanted it to stay that way.

You exhale sharply, pressing your hands to the cool tile. This is stupid. It’s reckless. Unprofessional. 

You didn’t even dare to touch your phone on your newly built nightstand. Afraid of what you’ll do if you pick it up. You repeated those words like a mantra, a prayer for help, some kind of guidance in this situation.

But despite your reluctance when your eyelid shot open at the blaring sound of your alarm filling your ears. Instead of turning it off, your arm shot from underneath your blanket. 

This is stupid, reckless, and unprofessional. You left a mess at home. Not here. Not Utah.

But it doesn’t stop you from reaching for your phone. You wanted to give it; send that text. You hesitate for a second before typing.

“You win.” is all you can manage to send. US the cold screen against your chest. Waiting for some kind of regret to pour in, but a few seconds later, your phone buzzes.

“Told you. Be ready by 8 :)” Is all she typed back. 

It was hard to be regretful when you remembered the woman you just agreed to spend time with, the way she looked at you, the way she made you feel. Ugh. She won. Time to get up.

A Hike Isn’t Romantic, Right? You tell yourself it’s just a hike. A simple, non-romantic, platonic hike. Completely appropriate. You repeat the thought as you pull on your hoodie, but it doesn’t settle the nervous energy in your chest. It’s not a date. You’re just going. That’s it. Except you don’t normally wake up early for people. And you don’t normally double-check the mirror before leaving for a simple, non-romantic hike. You groan, shaking your head at yourself as you sit down to tie your boots.

Dina watches from the kitchen, chewing on a piece of toast as you rush to get ready.

“You’re up early.” She says scanning over your outfit.

You shrug, focused on lacing up your boots. “Yeah, just… plans.”

“Plans that involve hiking boots?” Dina quirks an eyebrow, eyes drifting to the hiking boots before looking back at you with a head tilt.

Your stomach twists slightly, but you keep your face neutral. “It’s just a hike. You know Utah..mountains.” You trailed off.

“Uh-huh.” She takes another bite of toast, clearly unconvinced.

Before she can pry further, headlights flash through the window. Your heart kicks up a notch. You grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder.

“Gotta go. See you later.”

You rush out before she can say another word. Dina watches you practically sprint to the car, and when she spots the driver, her grin widens. Oh, she’s definitely teasing you about this later.

As you walk up to the car, the morning air crisp against your skin, you catch sight of Abby through the windshield. She’s out of scrubs, dressed in a fitted long-sleeve and hiking pants, and somehow that makes her even more intimidating.

She looks… good. Too good.

The sight of her sends an uninvited rush of memories through your mind. flashes of that drunken night, the way her hands had felt on your waist, the way her lips had pressed against yours, hot and insistent. The way she’d looked at you in the dim light of your apartment, like you were something she wanted to keep. Nope, You force the memories back, burying them beneath logic and professionalism. Abby is a higher-up. Your superior. Someone you should keep a careful distance from. And yet…

Your eyes trailing over the way the fabric of her shirt stretches across her broad shoulders, the way her blonde hair falls a little messier than usual. She looks effortless. Relaxed. Almost unfairly attractive outside the walls of the hospital. You swallow hard and slide into the passenger seat, keeping your face neutral.

Abby smirks, one hand draped lazily over the steering wheel. “Morning, city girl.”

You roll your eyes. “Morning, Dr. Anderson.”

She hums in mock disapproval. “We’re not at the hospital. Abby is fine.”Before you can respond, the sound of panting from the backseat catches your attention. You turn, coming face-to-face with a German Shepherd staring at you with big, curious eyes.

Your heart melts instantly. “Oh my God. Who is this?”

Abby chuckles. “Alice. Meant to mention she was tagging along.”

Alice wags her tail, ears perking up.“I can’t believe you’ve been keeping her a secret,” you say, already reaching back to scratch behind her ears.

Abby smirks. “Figured I’d ease you into the whole ‘hiking’ thing before throwing in my dog.”

You shake your head but can’t help smiling. “Riiight. Easing me in.”

The trail is quiet except for the crunch of dirt beneath your boots. The crisp mountain air fills your lungs, making the burn in your legs almost worth it. You pause for a moment, letting your eyes drink in the beauty of Utah. Above you, the sky is a flawless expanse of blue, punctuated only by delicate wisps of cloud that drift lazily, as if in no hurry at all. The mountains, standing tall in the distance, are bathed in the soft glow of early morning light, their rugged silhouettes softened by the clarity of the air.

Every detail around you seems amplified, airbrushed, the vibrant green of the sparse pines, the subtle shimmer of dew on the rocky ground, even the way the light dances off a nearby stream. In this vast openness, you feel both small and inexplicably alive, as if each breath is a fresh start., you allow yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, this rugged beauty is exactly what you needed to feel whole again.

Abby, of course, looks completely unfazed. At least, until she doesn’t. Her boot catches on a root, and before she can stumble forward, you react instinctively, reaching out to grab her arm.

“You okay?” You asked, holding onto her arm.

“Yeah..yeah I’m fine” She steadies, but instead of pulling away, her fingers tighten around your forearm, anchoring herself against you. Your breath catches as she looks up, blue eyes flickering with something unreadable.

And suddenly, you’re too close. Close enough to feel the warmth of her breath against your skin. Close enough to notice the way her pupils dilate, the way her lips part slightly, like she’s about to say something. Your pulse stutters. Memories from that night at the bar crash over you in waves. the way Abby listened to you with a quiet intensity, how her eyes trailed over every detail of your face like she was committing you to memory, how, for a few hours, you weren’t just another intern trying to stay afloat. You were someone she wanted.

She’s still holding onto you. You don’t know who moves first. maybe it’s her, maybe it’s you, but before you can think better of it, your lips meet.

The second Abby pulls you in, your body reacts on instinct, your hands gripping the fabric of her hoodie, grounding yourself in the moment. You don’t know why you kiss her back. maybe because it feels inevitable, maybe because for the first time in weeks, your mind quiets. The tension that’s been lingering between your shoulders and ignites like a spark hitting dry kindling, flaring to life in the press of her mouth against yours.

You force yourself to pull away, heart hammering against your ribs. reality snaps back into place.

“We—We can’t.” You shake your head. closing your eyes for a second. Screaming at yourself internally.

Abby’s tongue swipes over her bottom lip, like she’s memorizing the taste of you. “Right.”

But she doesn’t move away.And you. you don’t trust yourself to stay close, not when every nerve in your body is screaming at you to close the distance again.

“Right,” you whisper, stepping back, creating space, even when every part of you aches at the loss.

The moment lingers, thick and unspoken, before Abby exhales a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “At least I didn’t fall on my face.”

You huff a breathless laugh, trying to pretend like your hands aren’t still tingling. “Glad I could save your dignity.” And as you turn back toward the trail, you tell yourself it was a mistake. Even if your body refuses to believe it.

You finally reach a small clearing, the view stretching out for miles. The landscape unfolds before you like a painting—rolling hills fading into distant mountain peaks, their edges softened by the hazy light of dusk. The sky is streaked with soft blues and oranges, the sun just beginning to dip lower, casting long shadows across the valley below. A gentle breeze rustles the sparse pines, carrying with it the crisp scent of earth and pine needles. The distant chirp of crickets hums in the background, blending with the occasional rustle of leaves as Alice pads forward, sniffing curiously at the ground before flopping down between you and Abby with a contented sigh.

You exhale, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease as you take it all in. There’s something grounding about being up here, away from the noise of the city, away from sterile hospital walls and the constant pressure to be sharp, efficient, untouchable. Here, surrounded by nothing but sky and earth, you can just be.

Beside you, Abby shifts, dropping her bag onto the ground before lowering herself onto a flat rock. The golden light catches in her hair, making strands of blonde glow almost amber. You steal a glance at her. the relaxed slope of her shoulders, the way she absentmindedly scratches behind Alice’s ears. It’s rare to see her like this, completely unguarded.

For a moment, neither of you speak. And it isn’t an awkward silence, not the kind that demands filling. It’s easy. Comfortable. The kind that lingers between two people who don’t need to force anything.

Eventually, you sink down beside her, resting your arms on your knees as you gaze out at the horizon. “Hiking, huh…who would’ve thought” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper.

Abby hums in agreement, her eyes fixed on the distant peaks. “Mm, Being up here makes it easier to breathe.”

You nod, understanding exactly what she means. In the stillness of the mountains, the weight of the world feels lighter. The expectations, the mistakes, they don’t feel quite so suffocating out here.

Alice sighs deeply, stretching her legs out, completely at ease. You chuckle softly. “She looks like she owns this place.”

Abby laughed , running her fingers through Alice’s fur. “She thinks she does.”

Silence settles between you again, but this time, there’s an unspoken conversation hanging in the air. Something just beneath the surface, waiting. And as the sun sinks lower, painting the sky in deeper hues of amber and violet, you realize you don’t want to leave just yet. Not when everything in this moment feels so right.

You glance over. “So, what’s her story?”

Abby runs a hand through Alice’s brown fur. “Found her outside the hospital one night. Scared, skinny. Figured she needed someone, so… I took her home.”

You smile. “Softie.”

Abby scoffs. “Don’t spread that around.” Silence settles comfortably between you. The kind that doesn’t feel heavy or awkward…just easy. She, was easy.

After a moment, you ask, “Why Salt Lake?”

Abby’s fingers still against Alice’s fur for half a second—so brief you might’ve missed it if you weren’t paying attention.

She shrugs. “Needed a change.”

Something in her voice tells you there’s more to the story. But she doesn’t offer, and you don’t push. It’s best to try to maintain distance. The sun is lower by the time you both start heading back.

Abby’s voice is quieter when she finally speaks again. “You know why I went home with you that night?”

You glance at her, caught off guard. “Because I was charming?”

She huffs a laugh, shaking her head. “Because I needed someone to look at me the way you did.”

Your stomach flips. She looks at you then, expression open, unguarded. “I don’t usually do that. But you—” She exhales. “You make me feel like maybe I don’t have to have it all figured out.”

You swallow past the lump in your throat. Before you can figure out what to say, she smirks, bumping your shoulder lightly. “And I needed a good distraction.”

You roll your eyes, shoving her lightly. “You’re impossible.”

She grins. “You’ll survive.”

There’s a beat of silence before Abby speaks again, more serious this time. “You’re gonna do great in a few days.”

You glance at her. “Yeah?”

She nods. “You diagnosed a case that half the residents missed. You earned this. Just don’t pass out in the OR, okay?”

You smirk. “No promises.”

Abby watches you for a second longer, something unreadable in her expression. Then she nods ahead. “Come on. Alice is getting bored.”

You follow her lead, but your mind is still replaying every word. Soon, you’d have your first real surgery. You earned it, And maybe just maybe, you’d finally stopped fighting yourself on the inevitable.

But that was a tall order.

Taglist! @sevyscoven @flyleaffreak @antobooh

[custardtartsfan]

Tim Drake headcanons that have accumulated over time

this has been a receptacle for all of my tim thinkings over the past bit..may make another one and publish it when its full enough..

general him ₊⊹

he doesnt like coffee, too bitter. hes a bang energy kinda guy. Black Cherry Vanilla specifically

he has myopia from all the staring at screens in dark rooms like a goblin he does. he has glasses, but will not wear them cause he thinks they look silly. do NOT ask him to read something from more than 5 feet away he cannot do it

he has occasional breakouts. probs from stress. and hes only mildly confused and uncomfortable about his partner slobbering over it

SHRIMP POSTURE 🫵 doctors will end up naming a condition after him. he complains his back hurts like hes not leaning over his laptop at a perfect 90* angle

he genuinely enjoys math. like actually likes it. calculus soothes him, in a way. maybe cause its a problem with a clear answer instead of all the bullshit he’s dealing with day in and day out

does not handle his weed well. he consistently gets too high and then wakes up very sad the next day

hes pale as fuck. he does not tan, he will turn bright red. hes ghastly in the winter

his favorite food is cosmic brownies. i do not have an explanation for this it just feels right

i think he dresses pretty basic. but like in a nice, old money, chillest guy at the school athletics banquet kinda way

this is my vision

however, i do not think hes averse to the occasional ironic t shirt

he fears public bathrooms, really and truly. he cannot piss in a dairy queen, theres poors in there.

i can see him being a bit of a scent bro. like not jeremy fragrance but the people at his local Sephora know him by name

i also think hes a big dill guy. like not necessarily even pickles, the dude just likes dill flavored things. like chips, fries, whatever. big dill guy

romance.. (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

big fan of taking pictures. not on the phone though, not only cause he’s paranoid. also cause phone cameras are too damn high quality now WHO NEED TO SEES MY PORES??

anyway, he loves taking candid photos of his partner. on film or his digicam. his favourite is when his lover is conked out on his chest and he gets a photo of their cute sleeping face..hopefully he turned the flash off

he will SHILL the fuck OUT for you like actually. dont take him shopping with you, youre gonna leave with an untouched savings account and anything you spared a glance at

we all know the man has some attachment issues. as in when he is attached he will not un do that. this would also apply to his partner (i am choosing to ignore his choices in the mid to late 90s #notmytim)

hes like an elderly dog. complete with the spinal problems. separation anxiety like youve never seen

just like..sit with him..please. he likes to be sat with

i feel like he can only date someone hes very close with. like youre his best friend, Kon is cool but hes no you

his ideal lover is a bro he can kiss tbh

hes a lip biter. he likes to chew on his lips when hes thinking, which is always. so theyre littered with little cuts and intends. he gets all huffy after you mention you can feel it when you kiss him. you meant it in a nice, its cute way!

hed be a big believer in promise rings. he knows its a little redundant, but the sentiment is sweet and he’ll do why he wants damn it

hello icons! im sorry ive been dead for a few days, my final semester has been an unhappy one so far! i cant wait to be done Ethics im not a fan ϵ( 'Θ' )϶. anywho i hoped you liked and have a good night!

[pinkiemachine]

BATMAN: GOTHAM FILES - SEASON TWO

OKAY, so this season starts off with a spectacular BANG! Joker makes his debut, causes a ton of mayhem for the Dynamic Duo, but of course, in the end, the heroes save the day. Here’s some sketches of Joker I’ve been working on…

Still not sure if this is what I wanna go with. Like I said, work in progress.

Anyway, what really matters is what happens after Joker gets defeated. He’s thrown into Arkham Asylum, for the Criminally Insane, and the doctors there attempt to treat him. Namely, one Harleen Quinzel. This does not go well. Instead of her being able to bring Joker back to sanity, he manipulates her and gets her to cross over to the insane side, becoming his twisted on-again off-again lover, and they break out of Arkham together.

But this is all happening in the background while the rest of the season goes on. The real highlight of Season 2, aside from revisiting classic villains and meeting new ones, is the arrival of BATGIRL! Now, Barbara Gordon (17) was going to get a law degree after high school, but after seeing what sort of corruption there was in Gotham from her father’s police job, she’d lost faith in the system. Instead, she became inspired by Batman to take matters into her own hands. Batman initially tries to tell her to stop—she’s just going to get herself hurt—but then she manages to make a strong case for herself. She’s smart, she’s been taking self-defence classes since she was three, she knows the criminal justice system, she’s passionate about making a difference, Robin’s allowed to fight crime despite being four years younger than her, and… she’s not going to take no for an answer. Batman begrudgingly agrees to let her help, especially after she saves his life on a mission, but he has one condition: no crime fighting alone. She must always have backup. He’s not about to let the police captain’s—now Commissioner’s—daughter get hurt on his watch. Because he knows who she really is. Because he’s a detective.

So now they’re the fanatic threesome. I should also mention that there is NO Dick X Barbara. He’s 13 now, she’s 17, both going on 14 and 18. He’s like a little brother to her. Moving on.

Some time goes by, more baddies get thrown into Arkham, and then… Bruce meets Catwoman. It happened on a cold night when Bruce was soloing it as Batman. Dick was behind on his homework, Barbara was taking time off to rest, so he was all by himself when he got called in to investigate a series of expert burglaries/murders. He had to admit, she was good at what she did. Barely a trace of her was left behind… but barely was enough. He figured out her next target and then had her captured in one fell swoop. Catwoman. It’s not like she was a brawler or anything, just a cat burglar. It was during their ride in the Batmobile later that they got to talk some and learn about each other. Bruce questioned her about the two other robberies—ones where people died—and Selina pleaded innocent. She never killed people. Then, surprising Batman, she managed to escape from right under his nose. They would meet again, though, when he and Selina teamed up to catch the other burglar who had attempted to frame Selina with murder. The two had formed something of an attachment. Selina found Bruce attractive, and Bruce thought she had some good in her (and was also attractive), and they both found themselves wanting to see each other again some time. Purely for work purposes. Bruce only wanted her to face justice. There was totally NO OTHER reason. *cough cough* I have a post where I talk more about her and her relationship with Bruce.

Moving on, there’s an episode where we briefly head to Star City and meet The Flash, but THEN we get introduced to Ghostmaker. A fellow vigilante from Bruce’s past. His rival… and friend. He had also been one of Ra’s’s top students and they had fought often, but the main difference between them was that Ghostmaker was willing to kill. Bruce wasn’t. They have some funny, witty, exciting times when he comes to visit Gotham, but in the end, Bruce establishes that Gotham is his city. And there will be no killing in his city.

Grande finale sees the return of the Joker, alongside Harley Quinn’s debut!

And guess who they’re working alongside? TONY ZUCCO!! Dick has his revenge arc, trying to chase Zucco down, but in the end… all those years of Bruce’s training keep his hands from committing the most horrible act. I mean, Dick does rough him up, but in the end, Zucco gets sentenced to life in prison. Now Dick can finally let go. He can finally visit his parents’ grave with a clear conscience. They would be proud of him for what he did. They would be proud knowing their son was not a killer.

So that’s season 2 :)

Part 3 👇

Part 1 👇

More of Bruce and Selina 👇

[issa-pheonyx]

Puppy!Abandoned!Leon X Pre-Owner!Reader

𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗶𝘁 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗮𝗱𝗼𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗟𝗲𝗼𝗻 𝗯𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗳𝘆 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲? 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝘂𝘁! 𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝗽𝘂𝗽𝗽𝘆, 𝗟𝗲𝗼𝗻 [𝗵𝘆𝗯𝗿𝗶𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱], 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗼 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵~👀

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

-You have noticed these puppy hybrids everywhere and everyone claim to say it was the best they ever done. You never thought about it nor did it appeal to you, so you just did you. But, it does pass by your mind what it would be like to have a special companion by your side. That's when you saw one. He was left abandoned with his collar strangling his neck. It was severely bruised and red from the burn. The leash was attached to a fence from a vacant home. He was crying and whining, wiping his tears

-In the beginning he was very scared when he saw you come closer. "No, stay away!" He chokes out. His voice was raspy and dry. Probably, from crying and the leash tightening his neck. You slowly approach, cautiously, and he would try to flee away as hard as he could even tearing up from the pain on his neck. It wouldn't budge, so all he could was watch you in fear, lowly growling. When he noticed you cut off the leash with your pocket knife his heavy breathing calms down and stops growling. "It's okay, baby boy. You're safe. You hungry? Are you thirsty?" His tail wags a little by the name and your comfort, but he is still scared and runs inside the house

-After that you would visit the same spot since you tried to get him out the first day, but all he did was run inside the vacant house whenever he is outside of it. You bring food and water to him. He would watch you from the window and he grow onto you little by little as he would peek out the door, sits out on the porch, and now a few feet away from you

-That's when that one day he got really close to you. It freaked you out cause you assume he may bite or lunge at you. "What's wrong, honey?" You remain calm as you were knelt down to serve him food and water. He kneels down with you and sniffs at you and tries to get close to your face as you back up a little making him whine. When you let him he licks your cheek,"Thank you..." Not going to lie it made you choked up and you smiled sweetly to him,"Awww, my love you don't need to thank me." His tail wags, much more enthusiastically that is very rare. He then gets down on the tall grass doing body rolls making your heart melt,"Is the good boy happy?" You cooed and he perks up,"Good boy, yes!" That is when he lunges at you and starts licking your cheeks. Definitely, the golden retriever type

-Now it may seem all sunshine and rainbows with how affectionate and loving he is, but it was tough before all the settlements into making him your official companion. The trauma has taken a huge toll on him. The previous owner, Ada Wong, supposedly was working and ended up not coming back again. She tied him on the fence to malnourish. Left to die. He experiences separation anxiety and would growl at women who look like her, especially when they wear red dresses. For men it was strange since nobody knows why he would be snarling at blonde haired, blue eyed, and dressed all in black types. That one still remains a mystery

-You gave him all the love, care, and discipline when needed. Thankfully, he is well trained. You went to doctors and therapists to help him out. However, they just seemed to tell you he is hopeless to get over the trauma. It hurts him so much as he gets panic attacks of predicting you will just leave him just like she did. You reassured him you wouldn't of course. This was overall draining and exhausting, but you would remind yourself he didn't give up on you for the trust and you were not going to give up on him either

-You give him time and gently tell him to not growl or snarl at specific people and would show him that they are not bad with certain friends and family. When you did he started to talk to them ever so often and eventually he broke out of his shell and gets excited when he hears who's coming over and who you are and him are going to meet up at. He just needed time that's all

-When you meet up at the vet he was his quiet and defensive (most common for our pets when they go to the vet), but when you comfort him he has the spark in his eyes that you make him feel safe. Once he got everything settled with his shots, checkup, and all. He is officially your dog and you are officially his owner. His mommy. You kept his name as it suited him very well. "Welcome home, Leon. You helped me at my worst and I will be sure to be there for your best~" You scratch behind his ear making his tail wag very fast and he just licks your cheeks, happily, and you giggled. "Thank you for saving me...mommy."

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴! 𝗜 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘁. 𝗠𝘆 𝘂𝗽𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝗦𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹~🖤🫣

[sillyromance]

Good day everyone!

Warning: plant pred/human prey; angst; a character in pain; platonic relationships; healing vore, yet open ended.

I've been haunted by some thoughts on a sci-fi story where a crew of an exploratory space ship includes two best friends: 1) a sentient plant with mimic abilities who works as a paramedic; 2) a tough female warrior rescued from a planet which inhabitants are stuck in their equivalent of our medieval era - her job is to protect her new mates during missions outside of the ship.

The plant is carnivorous and needs to hunt periodically. Yet, it refuses to devour anyone of the crew due to the attachments it has formed and the moral code it has learnt to respect communicating with other races. Also the plant doesn't have a gender, but goes with she/her pronounce, appears as a human girl and calles itself Nova. Meanwhile, Nova's tough friend is Valerik.

One day, when the ship lands on another planet, those who go on the first mission are assaulted by the local tribes. Valerik, shielding a crew member, gets severely wounded. Weak and whimpering, she is brought back on board.

There it's discovered that her body is infected with a very strong poison of unknown origin.

Nova and other doctors try to find the antidote, but, no matter what they do, nothing seems to work. Meanwhile, Valerik has to endure horrible pain violating her entire body; it can be barely blocked by medications. It only grows stronger as days pass by, causing the woman to scream and cry in despair, unable to sleep, or eat, or at least distract herself from the feeling of her bones being tied in knots.

Nova can't watch her dear friend suffer this much anymore. She shows up at the Valerik's door with a risky proposal.

Sometimes plants of Nova's kind can heal other creatures by processing them and keeping the cells alive within while the recipient's immune system is studying the problem and producing the cure. Afterwards, the "prey" gets reconstructed. Yet, there is no way to predict if the outcome will be successful; some plants have been registered consuming the cells they've been assigned to carry for their bodies were powerless to do anything with diseases they faced.

Therefore, if Nova was to "eat" Valerik, the latter might never come back...

Nova explains everything to her friend and asks her if the warrior agrees to try this last solution. The plant admits that she can't give any credits for Valerik recovering soon: the process might take months, or even years to complete. It may not end well at all. However... at least the woman would be saved from pain.

Valerik is deeply touched by her friend's care. Despite the risks, she accepts Nova's offer. The poison would kill her anyway, sooner or later. With that in mind, becoming a part of her friend, temporarily or permanently, doesn't seem to be a bad alternative.

Nova informes the staff about the experiment, then returns to Valerik. The plant shows her true form: long flexible vains coil around the warrior's limp body and gingerly tug it into a huge blue blossom which gently closes around its prey, encapsulating her into a soft live cocoon.

The woman looks around. Sweet honey scent lingers in the chamber. Fluorescent walls soothe her restless mind with gentle shimmering. The woman's form slightly sinks into pliant, warm folds beneath - lying here already eases soreness in her joints...

Yet, suddenly, Valerik's breath hitches in her throat. Admiring the view, she hasn't been paying attention to the thick vains squeezing her legs and torso with more determination than before, firmly holding her in place while smooth flesh of the plant suddenly begins to ooze and ominously sizzle with viscous dark liquid.

Before she starts panicking, a familiar small hand lays on her forehead.

- N-Nova? - Valerik mummbles, stunned, blinking at her friend sitting nearby.

- Yes, darling, it's me. - Nova, her human form coos, stroking the woman's hair. - How are you feeling?

- ...I'm scared. - Valerik confesses, flushing in shame. Her red cheek receives a loving kiss.

- I know... It's OK. I won't hurt you, Valerik. My body will be exceptionally careful; it will make you feel very, very good. Plus, you won't be alone! All the way through, I will be here, with you, talking to you, and you can tell me anything that concerns you, sweetheart.

Soon, slimy juices begin to flood the "stomach"; petals, which looked so fragile and tender from the outside, tighten around the prey with unexpected force.

- Digestion is starting. - Nova replies at Valerik's confused gaze. - I know you've been hurting, badly, but once my acids touch you, your turmoil will end. It's scary, and you want to fight, I get it - and I won't blame you if you try, it's a normal reaction! But... trust me - all I want is to help. Just let go. Let me do this for you.

- I... I believe you, Nova. - Valerik smiles meekly. - I'll try.

Eventually, her muscles relax; the vains loosen their grip too and slide into their invisible gaps. Valerik's clothes swiftly drinks in the juices, making her skin tingle at the contact.

At first, sensation is rather unpleasant - the warrior has to force herself from jerking away. Yet, as the liquid is gradually rubbed into her skin, she notices changes.

The pain is gone. Dissolved into nothing.

Valerik gasps, shoked... then rolls her eyes with a long, satisfied groan.

- Oh, Gods... That's... Incredible!..

Nova barely holds away sobs as she watches Valerik laughing - and turning into formless goo down below. She brings the woman closer to her chest, their hands entwined.

- Thank you so much... - The warrior breathes out, her eyes sparkling with childish joy.

- Your welcome, Valerik... - The plant whispers, affectionately stroking the woman in her hold, eyes never leaving a peaceful face of her precious friend.

Valerik has already fallen asleep, exhausted after a row of insomniac nights, with a wide smile on her pale, bitten lips.

She is numb and relieved, at last.

.......

When Nova is back at work, her colleagues do their best to cheer her up. The plant grins and pretends to be fine. Nevertheless, when no one is looking, her face drops.

She takes off her work robe and looks at herself in the mirror.

Intentionally, she has given her avatar a rounded belly; Valerik is digesting slowly, and Nova wants to be aware of this even while being in disguise. Her hands idly caress the lump - it's still solid and full, and it will remain like this for a good week.

But nothing draws her attention more than her forearms covered in greenish patterns. They are moving and lighting up ever so often, separate tiny dots dancing like fireflies from her elbows to the neck, tangling into complicated shapes and stars of immence beauty.

Those are the cells, Valerik's soul tucked safely beneath Nova's skin where no one and nobody can hurt her again. The plant traces them with remorse on its pretty human face. Nova wishes things would never come this far. Now, she has eaten someone she loves so devotedly...

...Who knows if they ever see each other again?..

The only excuse she finds for herself is the last gleeful smile adorning Valerik's angelic face at her last moments.

In upcoming future, all the plant's body will be covered in swirling lines of cells travelling around in its veins. Sometimes, when Nova's grief will consume her mind, warm green light will embrace her crooked form, as if Valerik was trying to comfort her, reminding Nova she is still around, loyal to their bond.

Nova will never give up on her.

Even if hundreds of years must be taken away, she will still wait for her friend to wake up...

[1wh4re1]

Rivers and Roads

Chapter 4: Complications

Everything feels like it’s in fast-forward once you arrive at the hospital. You pull up to the birthing center and Price runs in to grab you a wheelchair. He’s got two nurses with him when he rushes back out and as they get you situated in the chair they ask you a flurry of questions. 

“When did your water break?”

“Have you been timing your contractions?” 

“How far along are you?” 

You do your best to answer but the pain of your contractions has you crying out. 

The nurses get you into a birthing suite and help you get into a gown and onto the hospital bed, preparing you for the doctor to come to check on you and the anaesthesiologist to come with your epidural. 

Five minutes later the doctor comes in and introduces herself. She quickly gets to work checking your cervix to see how dilated you are. “Well, you’re only two centimeters. Once we get the epidural started we can get you a birthing ball and adjust you for now to get you moving in the right direction. If that doesn’t work we will have to administer Pitocin.”

After that, there is more flurry of activity once the anaesthesiologist arrives. Not twenty minutes later you’re on your side in the bed with a peanut ball between your legs. Price is next to you holding your hand as you doze. The pain tremendously lessened now, allowing you to relax. 

--------

You're covered in sweat, tendrils of hair sticking to your face and you swear you swear you can still feel your left side despite the epidural. It must be wearing off. You've been at this for what feels like days despite only pushing for 45 minutes.

You arrived at the hospital that morning and it’s probably the middle of the night now, you’re unsure. Honestly, the beginning of your labor was easy, you mainly laid in the bed waiting for yourself to be dilated enough to push. It’s definitely not easy now. 

This wasn't how you imagined the birth of your baby. One partner whose remains had drifted over that beautiful cliffside and the other god knows where who chose to walk away from you. Still, you are grateful for the man holding your hand beside you now.

John Price never imagined he'd be in this situation. Your hand gripping his (quite painfully, god your grip is strong), and him wiping away your sweat and tears. He knows he isn't the man who should be here and he knows that he shouldn't have sent Ghost to chase a lead so close to your due date even though the man doesn't even know you're pregnant at all.

He watches you flush, tears leaking from your eyes through another round of pushing and cursing, and thinks he is quite possibly the biggest bastard on earth for keeping this secret for you. 

———-

You're exhausted. Worn out. Dead beat tired. The doctor between your legs encourages you with each contraction. Only a few more pushes she says and you're almost there. You sob, heaving breaths as sweat and tears run down your face. Squeezing Price's hand you start to push again, praying that this is the end.

The relief of hearing your baby cry for the first time is overshadowed by the blood rushing through your ears and the sudden dizziness you feel. You can't make out what the doctors are saying over the buzzing in your head. 

"What...what are they saying," you slur, tongue feeling heavier than lead in your mouth as you roll your head over to look at Price. "Where's my baby, why can't I see my baby?"

Price arranges his expression into something neutral and tries to reassure you but the room erupts into chaos around you. The monitors attached to you start to wail.

"BP is dropping."

"She's hemorrhaging." 

"We need an OR stat. Page them and tell them we are on the way."

"Sir, we need to move her. You need to leave now.”

The last thing you feel is Price's hand leaving yours before you slip under into a cool abyss.

---------

Ghost never made a habit of bringing his personal cell with him on the job but sitting outside a cafe waiting for his contact he needed a means of distraction. He’s been too in his head lately. He misses Johnny. He misses you. He regrets the things he said but he has no idea how to fix it. He sees how you look at him. With anger and sadness and something else he can’t seem to identify. He knows a simple “sorry” could never be enough. 

His thoughts are interrupted by the unexpected ringing of the phone in his hand. He doesn’t recognize the number but not many people have his personal contact. “Hello, this is Simon.” He answers. 

“Hello, this is Anna, I'm a nurse at Christ Hospital. I’m calling regarding your wife?”

He is immediately at attention. “Yes, what is it?” 

“Sir, we need you to come in immediately, your wife is in emergency surgery after giving birth and we need to know her wishes and next steps.” The woman sounds apologetic. 

“Yes of course. I-I’ll be right there.” Simon hangs up the phone in a daze. There’s obviously only one person they could be calling about. But you weren’t pregnant…were you? 

“Watcher this is Bravo 7-0, over,” he says into his earpiece. 

“Bravo 7-0 this is watcher send traffic, over,” Laswell replies smoothly. 

“Watcher I need immediate extraction, over.” 

“What? Bravo 7-0 your contact is en route.  Are you compromised? Over.”  

“Damnit Laswell! Get me out of here immediately!” He yells, walking away from the cafe. 

“Copy that,” She answers, her voice hard. 

------

You’re so still lying in the hospital bed, pallor not quite right due to the blood you lost. The doctor told him that you needed two separate blood transfusions. He knows you’ll be fine but he wants you awake. To confirm to himself that you’re still here with him. 

Despite your complications, the doctor reassured him your little girl is healthy. Six pounds seven ounces and nineteen inches long, she is absolute perfection in his eyes. He can’t stop staring at either of you, comparing your features. Simon is almost positive that Johnny is this child’s father, and for that he is grateful. 

The baby starts to fuss and he prepares a bottle just like the nurse showed him earlier. Once done he gently lifts her and cradles her in his left arm as he grabs the bottle with his right. She latches on with a little trouble but eventually suckles gently and surely at the artificial nipple. Once done he gently burps her before she settles back down into sleep. 

Forty-five minutes later Simon is standing by the window gently telling the baby all about you when he hears you. A soft raspy “John?” coming from your throat has him stiffening. Not quite ready to face the music.  

-------

Hey everyone, back again! This chapter is not beta read so sorry for any mistakes or general nonsense. Enjoy!

Tag list: @thefictionalgemini @ghostslittlegf @oniiloma @astro-ghoul99 @http-paprika @poohkie90 @cassiecasluciluce @cdej6 @kaoyamamegami @creamwhxre @mandalover2023 @maria-and-aguilars-codex-1492 @dedicateeverythingtomilkshake @callsign-selkie @leclercdream @themarauderseraslut @voidbirb @dedicateeverythingtomilkshake @purplegamer99 @bumblebeeme

[squirting-sub]

Testing new toys

CW: Piss Play

My dom and I have been wanting to take our water sports sessions further. We've both been fantasizing about her pissing inside me. To make that possible, my dom got this vagnial spreader (pictured below, ft. part of her hand). Of course, with spikes because she's a sadist. She wanted to try putting it on me before our big session, because she doesn't have the patience to figure it out during a session. Since I surprised her with my home made spreader bar, she had me lay on the bed and cuffed my hands and feet to it.

Pushing against the spreader bar, she goes "Oh, this is the perfect position to put the spreader on you.", which is exactly what I was thinking when I made the spreader bar. She takes the vaginal spreader and just lays it on my pussy, so I can feel the cold metal. "How does that feel?" "... very cold". "Hmm...", she feels between my lips. "You're wet again.". Then, she starts inspecting my pussy. She pulls on my lips and starts attaching the spreader on one side. I'm starting to feel shy and look to away from her. "What? Embarrassed?". I nod, "yes.. I've never had anyone look this closely who wasn't a doctor.". She chuckles and continues. "How does it feel now?". "Cold.. weird... I'm not that sensitive, so I don't really feel much." "Well, I haven't used the spikes yet.". And of course she starts screwing those in until I flinch and say ouch. She keeps experimenting with it until she finally decides to attach both sides without the spikes. She looks at her work, running her fingers along my hole. Again, she asks me how it feels. At this point I'm horny and it's new so I can't really find the words to describe the feeling. She licks one of my lips that's tightly secured in the spreader, making me shiver. She licks the other, then pushes her tongue inside me. I can't help but moan. She pushes against the spreader bar and at the same time thrusts inside me with two fingers. "Oh fuck... daddy", I moan, not able to do anything else.

Suddenly, she gets up and takes her pants off. She pulls on the spreader bar to lower my legs and then climbs on top of me, hovering over my face. Another moan escapes me at seeing how wet she is. It's already running down her thighs and when she sits on my face and I can taste her I moan again. She tastes so good and I love when she grinds on my face. She grabs my hair and does just that. Sometimes she would raise her hips and slap my face, knowing how it turns me on. She also reaches behind her to push her fingers inside me again as she rides my face. I look up at her and fucking wish we had water proofed the bed so she could pee on me. As if she read my mind, she raises her hips a bit and signals me to stop eating her and just keep my mouth open. A moment later with my mouth on her pussy, I can feel it gush inside me and taste her. "Swallow. Don't you dare make a mess on the bed!". I do and manage to not waste a drop. She gets up and slaps my face hard a few times before removing both the spreader bar and the vaginal spreader. She gets a towel and puts it under me, then gets between my legs and really fucks me with her hand. It doesn't take long before I'm moaning "Daddy" and squirting.

However, since we have plans and a big session later, she stops after one orgasm for me. This, of course, caused me to be wet the entire time while we were ice skating with her friends. When we have a moment alone, sitting on the benches, I tell her how wet I am. She smirks and goes, "That was the plan". In the car she tells me how my eyes just said "Piss on me!" when she was sitting on my face. And she was right of course. I was thinking just that. She also made me wear my collar to the outing with her friends but since it was cold my jacket covered it and they didn't see it.

We didn't end up using the vaginal spreader in our real session, because it just wasn't practical. Instead she had me spread my lips and hold my pussy open for her, while she hovered over it. Feeling her pee inside me and then having her fuck me so it squirts out again was heavenly. We both liked it so much, we ended up doing another impromptu session later that night. I love being used as her toilet and marked as her property with her piss inside me.

[justmeinadaze]

Take It Out On Me Part 17 (Steddie X Plus Size Reader)

A/N: Ok, I told y'all last chapter this would be loaded with angst. Enjoy the feels.

Warning: Daddy Steve/ Sir Eddie and Sub Fem Plus size reader, SMUT, gentle loving passionate smut :), ANGST, the mall catches fire but not due to the events in the show since this is an AU, Boys get hurt :(, they need to depend on her which is hard for them, Steves parents make a cameo and fucking suck, mentions of fear of loss, I think that's it, FLUFF, These three always talking about their love for each other <3

Word Count: 6037

You don’t think anything of at first when a girl runs into the classroom before it begins. In this college setting people usually come in if not right on time then a few minutes after. What made you sit at attention was when she whispers something to her friend who in turn tells the person beside her. 

“Hey. What’s going on?”

“You haven’t heard?”, the girl asks with wide eyes. “The mall caught fire. The whole thing is gone.”

Without saying a word, you grabbed your things and ran out the door, bumping body first into Masie.

“I was coming to get you! I just heard. Come on.”

****

“Look, we just want to know if two people are even fucking here. Can you tell us that?”, you best friend growled at the nurse as you panickily looked around. Other family members were waiting in the lobby, crying as they waited for any news. 

“Even if I had any information, which I don’t, you say you’re not family—”

“She’s their girlfriend!”

“She’s not the only one trying to find a loved one! Half the people who were in the mall are still missing, some of the people brought in didn’t have ids, and some are…unidentifiable at the moment.”

You stumble away from the desk, disturbed by the thought. 

“Robin!”, you shout as her face comes into view and you quickly tackle her into a hug. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Where’s Steve?”

Your heart fell. “He wasn’t with you?”

“No, he helped usher some of the younger kids in the store and I guided people out through the back. I lost him after that.”

One of the backroom doors opened and Masie gestured with her head for you to go. After quickly running through, you were met with a new chaos. Doctors and nurses shifting from patient to patient. Every curtain you looked behind had a new hurt face but not the two you were looking for. 

“Fucking help him!” Your head swiveled around at the sound of Steve’s voice. “Let me go, goddamn it!”

“Mr. Harrington, you can’t be in here and you need attention as well. Come on—”

“I’m fine! He’s my best friend fucking—” His heart shatters when his eyes land on your worried face. Pushing through people you both run to each other and he immediately lifts you into his shaking arms. “Fuck.”, he winces as he places you back on your feet. 

“Are you ok?”, you cry as your hands cup his face.

“Yeah, I’m ok. I went back for him…he was stuck under something…Y/N, they just left him there.”

You hugged him again as he held you tightly to him. Letting you go, he grabbed your hand and brought you to the far end of the area where doctors were running around an unconscious Eddie. They had him attached to a breathing machine and had cut off the front of his shirt and the right leg of his pants. 

“Fuck.”

Turning around, Steve was hunched over grabbing his arm. Pushing him against the wall, you lifted up his shirt and noticed burns along his side and upper shoulder. 

“Steve, these are bad—”

“I’m fine.”

“Steve! Please, baby.”

“How did you get in here?!”, a nurse shouted as she pointed towards security to remove you. 

Your hand immediately hooked to his as they tried to pull you away. “No, hey! She’s my girlfriend. Let her go!”

“Mr. Harrington, we have a process that has to be followed.”

“Fuck your process! I’m scared and I want her here!”

You didn’t think it was possible for your heart to break even more but it did. Steve had never mentioned being afraid of anything. He was always the big, strong protector and made sure you were never worried about anything. 

Was this how they felt when you had your injury? They needed you and you were being literally tugged away from them. You felt incredibly helpless as they detached you from each other and dragged you into the waiting room. 

##############

As names were announced and people were found, the waiting room dwindled. Your parents came down to be with you and your mom stroked your hair as you cried. When Wayne appeared you sobbed in his arms after telling him what you saw. To your dismay, Steve’s parents showed up a few hours later, glaring at you before heading to the desk to get more information. 

“For Steven Harrington and Edward Munson?”, a nurse called and everyone jumped up, following her as she walked and talked. “We put them in the same room because Steve told us they knew each other and after what he did, we thought he should be able to keep an eye on him.”

“What did he do?”, Mrs. Harrington asked. 

“Well, he’s got some second degree burns along his side and arm. According to him, he pushed a shelf off Mr. Munson’s leg so he could get him out.”

“God bless that boy.”, Wayne sighs.

“As for Mr. Munson…” Eddie’s uncle finds you hand and brings you forward next to him so you can hear better. “He had a lot of smoke inhalation but the oxygen and medication seem to be helping. His leg is broken so we do have it elevated and wrapped. Now we’re just waiting for him to wake up.”

“Should we be worried?”

The nurse glances at you with sympathetic eyes. “At this point, no. Now with Eddie, it’s just a waiting game.”

After opening the door, the Harringtons run through to find their son who was sitting on the end of the bed with scrubs on and gauze wrapped around his injuries. His mom carefully pulls him into her arms and you watch as he doesn’t reciprocate. With his eyes, he gestures you towards the other side and you walk with Wayne to check on Eddie. 

Just like she had said, his leg was up in the air in a sling and an oxygen mask covered his lips. They had attached an IV to his hand where medication was slowly tripping in and changed his clothes, placing him in a hospital gown. 

Masie, Robin, and your parents stood off to the side, waiting for everyone else. 

“Are you ok?”, Mr. Harrington asks in a gruff tone. 

“Like you fucking care.”, Steve growls. 

“Really? We’re doing this now?”

“Don’t pretend that just because this happened everything is back to normal or changed at all. You’re still an asshole who called my girlfriend a whore and kicked me out.”

“I didn’t kick you out. You—”

“Stop it.”, you seethe. “If this is how you are going to be then get the fuck out. They both could have died today and this how you want to be?! I won’t have it. Not today, not here.”

Mr. Harrington stepped forward, prepared to argue but your dad cut him off putting his body between you two. 

“She’s right, Bill. This could have been so much worse and it sounds like Steve is a hero. You should be proud of him. But if you insist on acting like a jackass then we’ll treat you like one.”

He huffs as he stomps out of the room, stopping to call to his wife. She hesitates, her hands running along his face and through his hair. Ultimately, she still leaves with her husband and Steve’s head hangs. Your mom comes up to sit beside him and tenderly rubs his back. 

“It’s ok, baby. We’re proud of you and we’re glad you’re safe.” He sobs in the nook of her neck and she holds him tighter as Robin comes to sit on his other side. 

Wayne looks down at his nephew, gently tugging on the gown he’s wearing. “Oh, he’s going to hate this when he wakes up.” He smiles when a breathy, exasperated laugh leaves your lips. You hand intertwines with Eddie’s as you sit beside him and fully let go.

############# 

A couple of hours later the night nurses said that only one person could stay per patient overnight. You and Wayne stayed while everyone else left saying they’d be back tomorrow to check in. Steve crashed on his bed, occasionally wincing as he rolled over. 

He startled you when he woke up screaming and you let go of Eddie’s hand to sit beside him. 

“Steve! Baby, it’s ok! You’re okay!”

“Eddie…fire…Robin…You…”, he panted incoherently as his ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. 

“Eddie’s over there, honey. He’s still asleep. Me and Robin, we’re fine. She’s coming back tomorrow. Everything is okay. I’m right here.”

“Can I hold you?”

“Of course. You never have to ask for that.” You glanced at Wayne who smiled your way and nodded his head, silently telling you he’d watch over his nephew as you curled up on Steve’s side. As your hand ran along his chest, you felt his breathing slow as he calmed down.

“I love you, Y/N. So fucking much. I thought about you the entire time I was running in that mall. I just needed to get him so we could get back to you.”

You tilted your head so you could bring his lips down to yours. Holding him to you, you relished his taste remembering the fear just a few hours ago that you may never taste or have him in your arms again. 

“I love you, Steve.”

When you woke up a few hours later, you quietly crawled out of his embrace to sit with Wayne who gestured towards the tv. The sound was off but you read the subtitles. Apparently, the mayor cut corners when building the mall and one bad wire set it ablaze. 

“Fucking prick.”, Wayne growled. 

“Are they going to arrest him?”

“Who knows, sweetheart. They better.”

The feeling of tapping on your arm got your attention and you turned your head to see Eddie’s gorgeous brown eyes drowsily looking your way as he tried to reach for your hand. 

“Eddie? Thank God!”

“I’m going to grab a doctor.” His uncle immediately stood, power walking out the door. 

“Are you ok?” He sluggishly nodded as he reached for the mask over his mouth. “No, baby. No. You have to leave that on for right now.” His eyes swung around the room before looking back at you and raising his hand in the air to make a writing motion with his fingers. Hastily, you dug in your bag, grabbing a pen and some paper. 

You watch him as he shakily wrote something, seeming exhausted when he finished as his arm fell to the bed.

“Steve?”

“Steve? He’s ok. He’s asleep in the bed beside you.” You got up and moved his curtain so he could see his friend more clearly. “Do you want me to wake him up?”

He shook his head, writing something else on the paper you left by his side.

“You?”

You tried to hold back your tears as you took his palm and brought it to your cheek. “I’m ok. I was so worried about you.” Eddie’s thumb gently slid under your eyes and the action just made you cry harder. “I don’t know what I would have done if something happened to either of you.”

His hand feebly moved behind your neck to try and bring you closer but as soon as the doctor walked in, you kissed the back of it and held it on the bed. 

****

They took him away to get some tests done and when he came back he was asleep once more. 

“He’ll probably be in and out of it for the next few 24 hours or so but his x ray looks a lot better. We’ll take off the oxygen mask tomorrow morning if he’s still improving. He most likely won’t be able to talk but…”

“Oh, he’ll hate that to.”, you smile towards Wayne who grins back. 

Your parents, Masie, and Robin do come back a little later in the morning with food for everyone including Steve. 

“Thank you so much but I’m not hungry right now.”

Sitting beside him, you run your fingers through his hair as you lean closer to his ear. “Daddy, baby, you have to eat something. Even just a little bit.”

He nervously swallows as he looks towards your parents before tilting his head towards you. 

“I, um, I’m having some trouble lifting my arms especially…” Steve gestures towards his hurt one. “I…I don’t know how to be…vulnerable like this, Y/N.”

Caressing his cheek, you lift his face so his eyes meet yours. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life.”, he whispers as his forehead leans on yours.

“Let me take care of you.”

After reaching for the plate your mom handed you, you hold the fork to his lips and he slowly bent forward to take a bite, softly smiling in your direction as he nodded. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Y/L/N. This is good.”

Robin sits beside him, eating her food silently before finally turning her head toward her friend. “I’m glad you’re ok… I mean who would I have to do stupid shit with at work in this town without you?”

Steve laughed and you silently thanked God for Robin Buckley. 

****

Your mom stayed behind as your father drove Wayne back to his trailer to get some sleep and freshen up. Masie said she would get any assignments you missed but said that the professors understood after she told them what happened and where you were. She left to head home and drop off Robin saying once again they would both be back tomorrow.

“Do you want to go home and clean up to? I can stay with them.”

“I’m ok, mom. Maze is going to bring me some fresh clothes and they have a washroom here so…” You glance her way before turning back to look down at Eddie. “I can’t…I can’t leave them.”

The metalhead groaned a bit as his eyes opened once more, still a bit heavy but seemingly much more aware.

“Hey, Eddie. How are you feeling?” He nodded as he looked over at your mom and waved his fingers at her making her smile. You were prepared when he made a little writing motion with his hand, grabbing the paper from the table beside him and handing him the pen. Eddie didn’t write anything, pointing to where he put Steve’s name yesterday. 

“I’m here.” Steve wobbled over and leaned against his friend’s bed. “Are you ok? You scared the shit out of me.”

Lifting the pen, he shakily wrote down what he could.

“Thank U.”

His fingers yanked on the boy’s scrubs, bring him down to his level as he tried to hug him. You could vaguely hear it through the mask over his lips but when they pulled apart there were tears in his eyes as he continued to cry.

“I’m going to go get some coffee.” You mother patted your hand, leaving you so you three could have some alone time. 

You filled him in on what the doctor had said and everything they would be doing for him. Eddie reached up to lightly touch Steve’s gauze, making the boy wince slightly. 

“Yeah, it still fucking burns believe or not. Do you remember anything?” The metalhead makes a so-so motion with his hand as the other man sits on the edge of his bed. “When I found you, you were by the back door of your store. One of the shelfs had fallen on your leg pinning you to the floor. I moved it but your side of the mall was a lot worse than ours. There was fire everywhere. I carried you outside and stayed with you till the ambulance finally fucking arrived. Took them long enough.”

“What caused fire?”, he wrote.

“Our fucking Mayor cut corners to get the mall built. There was a faulty wire and it just spread from there. The news is saying it’s amazing it didn’t happen sooner.” 

“Thankful U weren’t there.”

Your chest caved in as you heavily exhaled. “You’re in the hospital with your leg in a sling and can’t talk yet you’re still worried about me.” Your head fell as you started to cry. Eddie tapped you, getting your attention before tapping the space beside him. You climbed in, kissing his cheek, and leaning your head on his chest. “It scared me so bad when I saw them cutting your clothes and you were unconscious. I love you so much, Eddie.”

Steve held the notebook for him as his pen scrawled messily across the paper. 

“Love you babe.”

##########

The next couple of days were rough on both boys. Steve’s burns were looking better but he was still struggling with his mobility due to his pain and the medication they gave him made him extremely drowsy to the point where he would crash for long hours at a time. The doctor said that was fine and would help him heal but it made you nervous. After everything that happened, you couldn’t help but be terrified he would knock out like Eddie and wouldn’t wake up.

With Eddie, they finally removed the oxygen but he still struggled to speak. His throat was raw from inhaling the smoke but the doctors said it would clear up in no time especially at the rate his chest was. When he was finally able to eat real food, he stared at it not moving.

“Do you need help, baby?”, you asked and he shook his head. “Eddie, you need to eat a little bit or else they are going to attach that food IV to you again.” He blinked back frustrated tears as his jaw tightened. Just as you had with Steve, you leaned down to whisper in his ear. “It’s ok to ask for help, Sir. I’m still yours no matter what.”

As you began to pull back, he tilted towards you to kiss your forehead. This time when you repeated your question, he nodded. That night he tossed and turned, groaning in his sleep; they both did. You couldn’t wait to get them back home so you could lay with them in one bed. 

A couple of days later, Steve was discharged but he remained by your side at the hospital as you watched over Eddie. It took a while but when he finally said your name it was like music. 

That morning he was petting your head as you slept, placing soft kisses on your face randomly as he watched the tv. When your eyes fluttered open, he tenderly smiled down at you. 

“Hey, princess.”

His voice was still gravelly but he could speak and you cried in his arms as you kissed his lips. 

“Hey, Munson. How are you feeling?”, Steve grins as he leans towards him. 

“Hurting.” He gestured towards his throat and leg. “But okay. You?”

“I’m doing alright. They said I should have a good scar.”

“You and me both.”, Eddie winks before he begins to cough. “Did they say when we could go home?”

“In a couple of days, depending on how well your tests look.” You crane your neck to kiss his cheek as you lay your head back on his chest. 

“Baby girl, why don’t you go home, huh? I can look after him here.” You ignore him, closing your eyes as you squeeze the metalhead tighter. They both exchange a glance. In any other circumstance, you would be punished for not responding, but after everything you three just went through, they weren’t sure what to do. 

****

A day and a half later, Eddie was finally released and the three of you were able to go home. His cast around his leg was slightly cumbersome but he thought it made him look like a badass as he drew symbols on it through day. His friends from Hellfire came over and added their own touches, making you smile as you watched the man you love gradually return to his old self. Steve’s burns got a lot better especially with you always on top of making sure his bandages were changed and his wounds were clean. 

They both were prescribed medication and you made sure they took it when they were supposed to. To you it was nothing; you didn’t even give it a second thought but for them it was a lot harder. They weren’t used to being taken care of at all let alone in this way. They felt useless, not just to you but in general. After a while it finally boiled over… 

A few weeks later, you went with them to the doctor so Eddie could get his cast off and they could do a final once over of Steve’s burns. When they called their names, you reached over to grab the metalhead’s hand and he snapped at you. 

“I got it, Y/N! I can stand from a fucking chair.”

You blinked back the pain as he used his crutches to go where they wanted him. 

“Maybe, you should stay here.”, Steve smiled softly and without waiting for an answer left you alone in the waiting room. 

############

“Who would have thought walking would feel so fucking weird.”, Eddie mused as he hobbled back out cast free. 

“Yeah well, you’re lucky it wasn’t worse. Come on, babe.”, he motioned for you but you didn’t move. “Baby?” You stared into the void as they came over to where you were sitting. “Y/N?” He sighs as he reaches out to push some of your hair behind your ear. “Look, honey, we’re sorry. We just thought…”

You didn’t even allow him to finish as you rose and headed out the door towards the parking lot. Without a word, you handed Steve the keys and climbed into the backseat. 

The drive home was excruciatingly quiet and as you entered the apartment you were anything but subtle as you headed towards the kitchen, banging around things as you pretended to clean. 

“Really? You’re going to act like a child because we wanted to see the doctor alone?”

You chuckled under your breath as you slammed a couple of dishes in the sink and headed for your bedroom, sitting on the end of the bed, and folding your arms. 

“Come on, sweetheart. Talk to us.” Eddie had grabbed a chair from the table, bringing it with him as he sat across from you. 

“When I found out about the fire, Masie and I immediately ran to hospital.” As you spoke, Steve sat beside you, turning his body so he could see you both. “The waiting room was…chaos. No one knew where anyone was or what exactly happened. The front desk nurse was short with me when I asked about you two so Maze jumped in and defended me. I-I just wanted to know if you two were even there because if not I was going to fucking drive to the mall and dig through that rubble to find you.” An exasperated laugh left your lips as tears began to slowly escape down your cheeks. 

“I snuck back there when the door opened and found Steve who led me to you, Eddie. Seeing you like that…scared the hell out of me…but…nothing will ever compare to those thirty some odd minutes when I had no idea if you were even alive.” Your glassy eyes met the metalhead’s. “If I’m being too clingy and you need some space, I get that. If you need to do things on your own, I understand. But…don’t you ever speak to me like you did in that waiting room. I may belong to you but I think you guys forget that you’re mine to. I love you both so much and I deserve respect to.”

“You do, baby.” Eddie got up to sit beside you and pull you into his arms as he pressed your head into his chest. “You do. I’m so sorry. We know exactly how you feel, we should have known better. It’s just…”

“…We’re supposed to take care of you.”, Steve cuts in helping his friend when he pauses. “We’ve never had to depend on someone before. We spent so much time looking after ourselves and then you…”

“…Which is something we love to do, princess. This fire literally took that away. Not only could we not take care of you but we could barely take care of ourselves. It’s a weird helpless feeling. Not like when you got hurt but it feels like…”

“…We failed.”

“Jesus Christ.”, you sigh as you pull out of his embrace. “No. Fucking, fuck your parents especially yours Steve. You both don’t fail because you can’t take care of me. I love that you do but it’s ok to let me help you. Even if this hadn’t happened, it’s ok to let me love on you the way you do me.” You hang your head as you push your hair behind your ear. “I heard you tell the doctor you were scared. I saw it in your eyes, Eddie. I just wanted you to know you were safe.”

“I wasn’t scared of dying or the fire.” The metalhead’s tone was flat as he stared off into the void of his memory. “The fire alarm went off while we were stocking the shelves. It happened so fast. One minute people are running past the store, the next it’s fucking burning. Me and the other employees headed for the back because it was closer but I guess customers were panicking and one of them knocked over a stand.”, he shrugs. “That part I don’t remember. Just that suddenly I was on the floor with this heavy thing on me that I couldn’t get off. People tried to help but… I laid there and… all I could think about was you.”

“I was so fucking terrified of never…seeing you again and how my death was going to hurt you. I was scared that Steve wouldn’t make it out and you’d be left here alone. That’s the last thing I remember before hearing your voice and waking up in the hospital.”

As his eyes met yours, you pulled his head to your chest as he began to cry. Leaning back on the mattress you brought him with you as his arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you to him as you kissed his forehead and ran your fingers through his hair down his back. 

Steve laid on your other side, placing his arm just below Eddie’s as he nuzzled his nose against your cheek. 

#############

When Eddie’s eyes opened again, you were still holding on to him and gently rubbing his back. Stretching, he leaned back to look at your face as you softly smiled down at him. 

“What are you thinking about, pretty girl?”

“Do you remember the last time you made love to me—”

“God, forever ago.”

You giggle as your index finger comes up to trace along his jawline to his lips. 

“You asked me if I ever remembered seeing you in school or when we were younger and I said no but while you were asleep, I was thinking…I did see you once. We were in seventh grade and one of the popular kids shoved me in the hallway. I fell and was sobbing on the floor—”

“In a blue dress.”, he cut you off.

“Yes.”, you grinned. “In middle school we had to dress nice on game day. I remember a boy with a buzz cut helped me to my feet and then immediately ran down the hallway to tackle the kid.”

“My uncle used to show me those movies where cowboys or knights would defend a girl’s honor after they got hurt or mistreated. I saw the kid push you and I heard you crying so I kicked his ass. I told Wayne I was suspended for protecting a pretty girl and he took me to get ice cream.”, he chuckled as his palm ran over your cheek. “You didn’t even look up at me. That’s why I didn’t remember your face when I saw you in detention.”

“Seeing you…break like you did…triggered the memory. I passed by the front office and you were sitting there waiting to talk to the principal. You looked so upset and I remember thinking ‘I wish I could give him a hug.’ After that, I guess I lost you again.”

Eddie’s lips find yours as his hand slides down your sides to your lower back bringing you closer to his chest. “You’ll never lose me, sweetheart. I love you so much, Y/N. Thank you…for everything. Not just these past couple of months but…since school. Maybe…we should remind you more. Show you how grateful we are…to have you.” His hips grind against yours as he continues to talk between each passionate kiss.

“Baby…baby, wait. Can we…are you…I’m just worried about you the…the most because…of your lungs…”

When his eyes meet yours, you see the conflict within them. You’d had this conversation with them before when it comes to their bodies. They assured you they knew their limits and would never even put you in a position that would make them or you uncomfortable. Eddie’s immediate knee jerk reaction is to remind you of this and assure you with a confident Master tone that also reminded you he was in charge. 

But he also understood what you had just been through and knew this may need a softer touch. Steve was always better with the Daddy comforting tone than he was but he had to try. 

“I’m fine, princess. I swear but if it makes you more comfortable, we can go slow and I promise to check in with you every step of the way, okay?”

“Okay, Sir. Thank you.”

“Thank you, baby.” 

Laying you flat on your back, he removed your garments, and gently kissed down your body as your hand tenderly played with his hair. Steve’s breath warmed your cheek as you felt his palm caress you face. 

“He’s right, you know. We should be reminding you more how grateful we are for you.” You gasped when Eddie’s tongue pressed against your clit. “I’ll check in with you to, baby girl, ok?”

“Y-yes, Daddy.”

“God, it’s been so long since I’ve tasted you, sweetheart. Fuck I missed this pussy.”

You groaned at the metalhead’s words as his mouth wrapped around you bud, his head moving from side to side as he devoured every part of you. Steve licked the pads of his fingers, running them over your erect nipples as his lips sucked and bit the sweet spot on your neck. Eddie’s tongue continued to work its magic as he slid two fingers into your entrance. 

“Fuck! That feels so…so good.”, you mewled as your eyes rolled back and closed. Steve connected his lips to yours as the other man moved at a faster pace, swallowing your moans as his tongue danced with yours. 

Pressing his face further into you, you grinded your hips till you felt your release, throwing your head back as you came. Both men sat up and hastily removed their clothes, Steve sitting up with his back against the headboard. 

“Hang on, honey.”, he cautioned as you moved your back closer to his chest. 

“Are you ok, Daddy?”

You heard him spit behind you and the wet sound of him smearing it along his cock.

“Yeah, I’m alright. You can come back now and keep your ass open for me.” You nod as you do what he says, both of you groaning as he guides himself into you. “Fuck, baby. I missed being inside you."

As you slowly bounced your hips, you leaned against his chest and placed your lips on his own. Turning your attention to Eddie, the man behind you wrapped his arms around you as he kissed along your shoulder. 

The metalhead smiles down at you as he moved closer, taking hold of your thigh as he gripped the base of his shaft. 

“Stevie, I’m going to be a bit closer to you in this position. Is that ok?”

After the man nods his approval, he guides his cock into your entrance, growling at the feeling of your pussy clenching around him. Eddie’s head fell on your shoulder as both boys thrust into you while you ground your hips to meet theirs. Your hands roamed them both as the continued to whisper praises in ear followed by how much they loved you.

“Shit. F-fuck.”, Steve whimpered and you immediately turned to him knowing that wasn’t a sound of pleasure. 

“What’s wrong, Daddy?”

“Nothing… just…can we…can we lay on our sides? I’m sorry, guys. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Eddie pulls out and helps you two carefully roll on to the side that wasn’t previously injured. Your hand takes ahold of his as you tenderly kiss the back of it. 

“It’s ok, baby. Thank you for being honest. How about you, Sir?”

Laying down in front of you, he lifts your leg over his hip and slides his dick back into your core as he rests his forehead on yours. “Mmm—never better, princess.”

“I love you both so much. I’m glad you’re mine.” They both pumped into you harder as their fingers gripped your body tightly, Eddie clinging to your thigh as Steve holds your bicep. Their grunts and pants became louder and the sound was music to your ears. “Mine. MY Master. MY Daddy. F-fuck… please make me cum.”

Your eyes squeezed shut as they honored your request. They needed this just as badly as you did. You moaned their respective titles with pride as you came hard around them. Eddie pressed your head into his chest as he released his seed inside of you and Steve followed after burying his face into your back.

You didn’t see what happened next but you felt it as the metalhead reached over you to pulled Steve closer and in turn the other boy wrapped his arm around his back, hugging each other with you in the middle.

“Thank you for coming back for me, man.”

“You’re one of my best friends who’s been there for me even when I was an asshole. Of course, I’d go back for you.”

“ONE of?”, Eddie chuckles as he releases you both and leans back. “Who else are you cheating on me with, you slut!”

You laugh at his joke, thankful that his sense of humor was returning. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the pretty girl we’re dating!”

“Aw, Steve Harrington. Are you saying I’m your best friend to?”

“Um, I don’t see any other women we’re dating here.”, he grinned. 

“Ok, but like, am I more of a best friend than him or…?” You laugh harder when Eddie tries to playfully put a pillow over your head. 

###########

“How much longer do you think it will take him to finish his hair?”, Robin whispers to you as you sit on the couch scrolling through the tv.

“Oh, sweetheart. It’s like you don’t know him.” You both giggle as Eddie comes out of the bedroom and grabs a drink from the fridge.

“Oh shit.”, Robin sighs as she points towards the screen and you turn up the volume. “I didn’t think they’d actually arrest him.”

The metalhead comes up behind you guys as he watches the mayor taken out of town hall in handcuffs and thrown into an FBI cruiser. 

“Good. Fuck him.”, Eddie growls before leaning down and kissing your lips. “Have fun with Masie, babe, and I’ll see you later.”

“Good luck!”, you shout after him as he runs out the door. “He has an interview at the music store down here.”

“Ok, sorry, Robin. I’m ready.”, Steve announces as he powerwalks out of the room and searches for his applications.

“On the table, baby.”

Robin pats your thigh as she stands to gather her things.

“Ok, honey. Have fun. Be careful.” He lightly tugs on your hair, pulling your head back for a kiss. “And EAT something before you go, please.”

“Good luck you two.”

Steve winks in your direction as they both head out the door to their first stop Family Video. 

############

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Attachment Will Bring Me To My Doom

(The long awaited Black backstory)

Peeps the time has come: @kijimha @city-of-c0rpses @joanbarrie @fedya-the-rat-god @myluckymoon @respiratory-kristem

"Our baby boy..... We will love you forever." Those were the first words I ever remember my mother saying to me. I was barely a few months old yet that loving memory is still faint in the back of my mind. Slowly fading away from my subconscious.

I would have been lucky. A loving mother, a proud father, excited and supportive brothers. Yet I was unlucky. For I was stuck with this curse that has taken everything away from me.

It was all an accident too.....

Most parents would be excited and proud when their baby says their first word. Mine was mommy. It was easy to roll off the tongue and that's who I wanted most when it came to attention. Mommy, I wanted mommy to hold me. To feed me, to love me, to speak to me, I wanted her.

"Mommy." I wailed in my crib. I can't remember how old I was or the memory so well. The only thing I can remember was waking up that night in a cold sweat and a bad cough. A poor sick little child wanting his mother to comfort him.

Make it stop.

"Mommy." 96. I cried again when she didn't come.

Make it stop.

"Mommy!" 97

Stop it!

"Mommy!!!" 98

STOP THIS! JUST STOP TALKING! KEEP SILENT!

"MOMMY!!!" 99

I don't remember much, other than the faint sounds of her slippers tapping the floor and the warmth of her arms as she scooped me up. Her soft voice comforting me. "You okay my baby boy?"

I shivered in her arms before closing my eyes. "Cold....." 100.

I never saw my mother from that day forward ever again.

In fact I never saw the rest of my family from that day forward ever again as well. All I know is these 4 white walls and complete utter isolation with no contact from the outside world. I had no name as well. I used to have one before I was taken away by a facility, but I was given a new one. Or multiple I should say.

Rey was the common one. So was child 89, Mute, silent killer, "that kid", and most of all Black. To the facility I wasn't a child to them. In all reality I was some uncontrolled weapon of a monster who would kill anyone by a single touch if I spoke too much.

They tried to "cure me" at this facility. Testing to see if I can be stable enough for the outside world. Yet those moments were nothing but pain.

I would kick and scream every time the "doctors" tried to take me to a examining room. I was scared, I didn't care if my screaming for help or to be let go was going to get someone killed. I didn't want to go through another experiment or examination. I'm tired of the needles, the pills, the electro shocks, or anything that would keep me quiet.

Worst of all the doctors would lock a iron muzzle on my face, locking my jaw shut so I couldn't speak. Those were the worst moments because I felt so powerless in those moments. All I could do is sit in my cell, sitting in a straitjacket with no freedom to move around more utter a single sound.

These 4 walls became my life. And so did that man. The head of the facility. I didn't bother to remember his name or face. Why should I when all he repeated to me was, "Try not to get attached to people, 89. It's for your own good and for the rest of the world as well. Everything that you will love will die by your hand. It's best to keep your distance and stay far away. So no one can ever get hurt."

So I obey those orders.

Because in the end someone did end up getting hurt because of me. For once in my life the facility let me out of my so called home and out into the real world for just a month. To test the waters if I was stable enough.

At the time I was 17, they put me into a high school, yet I was barely given any schooling about the real world or how people act. All I knew to do was to keep quiet and count how many times I spoke a single word. In order to communicate I would pass notes and lie that I was a mute. This would keep most people away from me so no one got hurt. If they ignore me because I'm a mute then they won't get hurt or killed by me.

Yet it still happened. Even when I tried to keep my distance someone had to die by my hand. All because I wanted to help.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Some girl at school invited me to her house party, it's what you would normally expect from any drama show or movie. Lots of people, underage drinking, smoking, drinking games, a couple making out in the back. I only went because I didn't know how to say no.

Though I wish I didn't go. Because that night the girl who invited me was getting harassed by some guys. I wanted to step in, after all she was nice to me. Yet I lost count of how many words I have spoken. And by the graze of her hand on my shoulder, everything fell apart.....

I never saw that girl or that house ever again.

The facility immediately took me back after the incident. After that it was back to every day life within these 4 walls. That was until one night I was sleeping peacefully in my bed, unaware that someone was out for my blood.

There was a hand tight against my neck and I jolt awake to see a guy older than me with a knife, ready to kill me. I panicked of course, how could I not? I seen this guy before. He was the older brother of that girl who invited me to the party. From the piercing look in his eyes, I can tell he was out to get me for the incident.

I don't know how but after a bunch of struggle and bashing our heads against walls and glass, we ended up outside in the deep woods. I was trying to run but he was chasing up behind me. When I got near a river I attempted to leap over it but he tackled me and dunked me underwater, his hands around my throat as I struggle and kick to no avail. I was power less underwater and I was losing air.

This was the end of me.....

That was until the man's hand let go of my throat and somebody else yanked me out of the water when I fell unconscious. Soon before I knew it I was coughing up water and leaning against a tree. Stood before me was a tan guy with glasses and yellow eyes.

His name was Nicholas. I called him my brother once he took me in thay day. Now I'm with this Mafia organization called XY for a couple of years now. It's quite nice. The people here are a little weird but it's my kind of weird.

For once it feels like I have a family to call my own.

Yet I'm scared. I still keep my distance away from everyone else. Standing in the dark shadows while everyone else has fun in the light. Because if I step into the light then I'll get attached. And attachment will bring me to my doom. Keep my distance and no one gets hurt.

That's how it will always be.