#THEY WERE SUCH GOOD FRIENDS THEY MEANT SO MUCH TO ONE ANOTHER SOMEONE SEDATE ME

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Do you have any autistic Scout headcanons? :P

Hell yeah!

I’ve actually thought about this a lot. A lot of people might think that Scout has ADHD, but I think he either has both ADHD and autism or just autism.

This is both because labeling Scout as having just ADHD is kind of a low-hanging fruit, and I also want to explore his symptoms a little more. So, in a word, I do, and thank you for asking about them!

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Scout’s Spectrum:

So, where exactly does Scout fall on the autism spectrum?

First of all, he probably has both ADHD and autism, but wasn’t diagnosed with the latter until much later. This means that some of his symptoms were taken into account, but not all.

The ones that were paid attention to ramped up out of control, and the ones he didn’t hear about were stuffed away.

His ADHD symptoms include impulsiveness, need for stimulation, hyperfixations, forgetfulness, and insomnia; his autism symptoms include trouble with social skills, stimming, near inability to remember names and faces, lack of eye contact, hyperfixations again, and sensory processing issues, especially with noise and touch.

He used to have a lot of meltdowns when he was younger, usually about wearing new clothes and the amount of noise his eight brothers generated.

However, he was teased and pushed into masking nearly all the time, and made his whole personality about his ADHD, since that was what everyone accepted.

As he got older, he usually wrote off any autistic tendencies as either his ADHD or just “little habits” of his.

During his middle school years, he used energy drinks to bounce back from being exhausted every day after school. This would work, except those energy drinks would upset his ADHD, and would make it much harder to focus on even basic conversation.

After a while, he got such bad grades and had such a hard time making friends that Scout just stopped going to school altogether.

Baseball helped his focus, and the quick movement and thinking made a lot of sense to him. He never had to wait very long for the next development, and the instant gratification and community it provided supplemented what he never got at school.

With sports on his side, he rarely ever drank any energy drinks (the coach would never let them on the field), and he drank bucketfuls of water during every meet and game. Those teenage years were probably the healthiest he ever was.

However, with the amount of rumbles he got into with his brothers, and the turf wars that constantly raged in those neighborhoods, it was only a matter of time before his crime caught up with him.

After his first incarceration, he was booted from the team, which led to a downward spiral of unhealthy coping mechanisms - which included fighting someone tooth and nail whenever he could.

Even if he lost the fight, it not only catered to his impulsive nature and impatience, but also gave him roughly the same sense of friendship and camaraderie that baseball had.

One thing led to another, and by the time Mann Co. found him, Scout was a monster in hand to hand (and bat to bat) and had racked up quite the criminal record.

A perfect mercenary, ripe for the picking.

On The Team:

Scout very quickly adopted the “stupid, scrappy Boston boy” persona.

It was the only thing that made sense, and it kept him from having to try too hard in both the battlefield and socially.

Besides, that meant that he could be as silly, forgetful, and fidgety as he wanted, and no one would bat an eye.

And if he ever needed to take a break from the team, he figured everyone would appreciate the quiet.

The only thing that ever gave him away was him occasionally dissociating right when battle began, especially if the day had been stressful.

It was usually how he calmed down after a fight when he was young, but now he sometimes slid into that state when he was overwhelmed.

However, a yell from one of his teammates would usually snap him out of it.

Medic noticed this pretty early on, and wanted to look more into it, but Scout would keep making excuses not to get a mental examination.

He would blame it on zoning out, being tired, drinking too many Bonks - whatever it took for people to stop asking.

And, eventually, they did.

Even Medic stopped asking after a while - he couldn’t get a thing out of Scout.

This “try so little that when you do try it’s above average” charade worked for a long time. In fact, it went on for so long that Scout forgot how much he was actually capable of.

He began to internalize the stupidity, the exacerbation, the many comments on how dumb he was, everything.

The only time he ever gave his all was on the battlefield - moving fast, memorizing strategies, doing complicated footwork, knowing exactly how much force it took to crush someone’s skull with his bat.

That was one of the only things that he felt good doing, the only thing he could really work on without him being “found out.”

That and drawing, though he never showed the actual pieces to anyone. It was all stick figures and crooked lines with everyone else.

Sometimes, though, Scout wouldn’t be paying attention and he’d let something slip.

One time, Engineer was looking for his screwdriver, and couldn’t seem to find it anywhere.

Scout, not looking up from his comic, said, “Under the couch cushion, hard hat.”

Engineer bent down and reached into the couch, and his hand came back with his red and yellow striped screwdriver.

“Well I’ll be damned…”

At first Engineer thought Scout had just hid it, but Scout explained, still not paying attention:

“Last time we went out on th’ field, you had it on your belt, like always. But I was walkin’ by your workshop, you were usin’ a quarter to tighten a screw or somethin’. Your screwdriver had to be somewhere between the battlefield and your workshop. Engie, you’re like freakin’ clockwork. Every day, after a fight, you go to the kitchen, get a water, go to that couch, between the second and third cushion from the left, and sit there. Then ya go back to the fridge to get lunch and a beer, and ya go to your workshop until somebody needs you for somethin’. Your back loop in your tool belt is looser than all the others, ‘cause the screwdriver pulls against it when you sit down. The shank was probably in between the two cushions, and when you got up, it fell in. Demo, Pyro, and Heavy all sit on the second or third cushion at some point, so it got shimmied down. And since that’s the only time you sat down, ‘cause you woulda heard it if it dropped on the floor, and I…uh…”

“I’ll be damned,” Engie repeated, and felt the back tool belt loop. It was indeed loose.

Scout finally looked up, and realized what had happened.

“Uh, uh - l-lucky guess, huh Engie?”

Engineer squinted behind his goggles. “Yeah…real lucky…”

What ensued was Engie trying to get Scout to turn into a B.L.U Spy by chasing him around with his wrench. After a few good hits, though, Engineer saw that it was the teammate he knew and loved.

“But…how didja…?”

Scout threw his hand up, the other rubbing the back of his head where he’d been hit.

“I toldja Engie! Lucky guess! Jesus!”

Ever since then, Scout chose his words more carefully.

The Breakdown:

But, unfortunately, Scout could not pretend forever.

There was one week where Scout’s assignment count was so high that, if he wasn’t in a fight, he was on a mission.

Usually, Pauling wouldn’t trust him with so much, but no one else was available - or willing - to do the jobs.

Even when she was getting concerned about the amount of hours Scout was putting in, he blew it off.

“It’s no sweat, Miss Pauling! Their practically givin’ me the pay day. Those yahoos don’t know who they’re messin’ with.”

Over time, though, Scout had a harder and harder time staying focused and alert.

He’d sleep through alarms, stare off into space, zone out completely during briefing (not that he didn’t already do that), have a hard time hearing people in battle - even through his headset - ignore Spy’s taunts, and even forget to bring his bat onto the field.

Nothing seemed to help - Bonk!, warming up, stretching, cold showers, setting reminders, nothing.

And the team was starting to notice.

At first it was with the regular frustration - maybe Scout was just being lazy.

But as time went on, and his condition grew worse, their scorn turned into worry. They implored Medic to do something, but he had no way of getting through to Scout.

The doctor wasn’t above simply sedating him and dragging him into his lab for a check-up. However, he had a feeling that this was more than a physical issue.

The worst came when Scout was doing a routine battle with the B.L.U team on the field.

Everything had started out okay - he even remembered to bring his bad this time - but suddenly, everything was ear-splittingly loud.

He couldn’t focus on more than one sound at once, much less communicate the best course of action to his teammates.

He ended up hiding in a dilapidated shed, in a dusty, dark corner, somewhere between zoning out and panicking.

Scout’s head was in his knees, he was shaking, close to crying, when a sudden splitting of wood roused him.

A B.L.U Soldier had kicked his way into the shed, either having heard Scout or to hide from the other team.

Scout was stunned at first, but something of a blind terror filled him. He picked up his bat, screamed, and started pummeling the surprised Soldier.

At some point, he threw aside his bat and began to swing punch after punch, just like he did in his gang days when he had felt overwhelmed. Still screaming. Still crying.

By the time Scout had dissolved into a rocking, sobbing mess, the Soldier was long dead, with a gigantic pool of blood staining Scout’s shoes.

No one even knew where Scout was until a few hours later, when Spy heard a faint note of “Sexbomb” coming from Scout’s Walkman.

Scout had crawled into the shed’s framework, between the outer and inner wall, and was playing a specific verse over and over and over again, looking like he was on another plane of existence.

Spy immediately called for Medic, who had to lift Scout out by the underarms through a jagged hole in the side of the building. By then, the fight was over, so they could take him directly to the lab.

Medic’s Evaluation:

“I’m guessing zhis is your first mental breakdown?”

“Mental…doc, I ain’t crazy. Wait, you’re not goin’ to put me in a straight jacket, are ya?”

“If you’re not doing anyzhing later.”

Medic started to laugh, but quickly realized this might not be the time.

“No, Scout, everyvun has a mental breakdown at least vunce in their lives. It’s a…how do you say…a vake-up call of sorts. Vhen your body has no other options left.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“For zhe past few months, you health, both physical and mental, has been deteriorating. You eat less. You talk less. Your attacks are lackluster. You have bags under your eyes. You flinch vhen somevun yells for you. You stare off into space. Your routine, vhich usually has at least some changes, has become stringent, as if you can’t possibly expend any more energy into extra activities. You have avoided Demoman on zhe battlefield, even though you usually use him for cover.”

Medic flipped through his notes.

“I have pages and pages of your decline. However, as a scientist, I believe it is caused by zhe same source. And, though I usually respect my patient’s right to privacy vhen it comes to these sorts of matters, I believe you’ve been keeping something from me. Something that I should know as your general practitioner…your doctor.”

Scout shrugged, already shutting out the conversation.

Medic sighed.

“Maybe I tried to talk to you about zhis too soon. After all, you’ve just had a very sudden and exhausting episode. But…perhaps…”

Medic took a sheet of printer paper from his clipboard and a spare pen from his pocket.

“…zhere is an alternative.”

Scout was still unresponsive, but Medic continued.

“Zhere is a patient in my vaiting room vis a metal pole through the chest. It vill take me at least an hour to properly remove it, and a few minutes more to heal zhe area. Vhile I do zhat, vhy don’t you draw how you feel?”

Medic smiled.

“I know how much it grounds you.”

It wasn’t until Medic left that Scout actually picked up the pen, but he began drawing immediately.

For the first time in a while, he wasn’t trying to hide his strokes or scratch up the cleaner lines. No more stick figures. No more pretending.

Five minutes later, he was fully engrossed.

Medic started to walk in at one point, but, seeing how relaxed Scout was, decided to give him a few more minutes.

He deserved it.

[whump-a-la-mode]

It’s blue again with a prompt for u: villain gets captured and tortured by hero and escapes, extremely drugged, and shows up on the doorstep of supervillain (who they are absolutely terrified of) because they have nowhere else to go

🥺🥺🥺 This is such a cute prompt. I hope I did it justice! Thank you fren blue!

CW//Injuries, implied past strangulation, hypothermia, drugging

When one is busy, it is terribly easy to forget, and calling Supervillain anything but busy would be either an understatement, or, perhaps, an insult.

Such was the case when one was the most powerful villain in Metropolis after all. They'd long since given up any semblance of free time. And, yet, as of recent, they had managed to have their schedule even more full than usual.

If there was one thing Supervillain didn't like, it was prison. If there was another, it was the fact that the city's heroes had spent the last few weeks carrying out an all-out war against those who opposed them. Their goal was ludicrous, and yet, at the same time, very, very clear.

Their target? Every villain in the city. Each and every one, taken into captivity. Within the past few weeks, nearly everyone that they kept contact with had scattered like rats into the city floorboards.

But Supervillain was not so cowardly. Not so quick to break and flee. No, that was what kept them at the top of the pecking order. The situation didn't matter-- they weren't leaving their lair. And, so far, they'd fended off the many attacks that had pounded against their walls.

So far.

Regardless of method, unlike their opponents, the city's villains were smart. They knew how to disappear when they had to.

When they had enough warning.

With just how chaotic the last few weeks had been, they had nearly forgotten just how the whole situation had began. The only warning sign that any of them had had-- The fall of a friend.

Well, maybe not a friend. But an ally, surely.

Villain. They had all been too busy. They'd forgotten young Villain, plucked from their home in a siege, broadcasted for all the world to see. It was a tragedy, but sometimes, people died. That was how the world worked.

People died.

They didn't show up on the doorsteps of the most powerful villain in the city, curled into the fetal position, moving only to inhale the tiniest, the shallowest of breaths. They weren't supposed to do that, at the very least.

And, yet, here Villain lay. Against the odds.

When Supervillain had heard the knocking, the weak, almost whimpering of flesh on wood, they had assumed the worst. The next attack. The next attempt to break into their lair. And, yet, their surveillance systems had reported nothing of the like, and a quick sweep by their henchmen had confirmed that there were no heroes laying in wait nearby.

It wasn't a trap. At the very least, if it was a trap, it wasn't obvious.

If it had been a trap, they could have at least cleaned up their bait a little better. That was their first thought when they at last felt confident enough to open the door. What in the world was one supposed to do in this situation? At the moment, their reaction was, more or less, 'staring in shock.' While perhaps not being the most helpful, to them, it seemed the most natural.

Closing the door wasn't an option. They knew that.

Supervillain didn't take pity, not on anyone. There was a reason they were feared-- they weren't known for their mercy. But, leaving a fellow villain like this... It was something that was just wrong. Evil as they were, villains still had morals. They took good care of their hostages. They released children, the elderly and the sick. They kept their own henchmen in good health and spirits.

And...

And they didn't leave fellow villains on their doorsteps, half dead.

Biting the inside of their cheek out of nerves alone, they leaned down, picking up the shivering burden. The cold struck them in an instant-- a terrible, shivering cold. The kind that was reserved only for those with powers that related to ice and snow.

But Villain- No, Villain was a pyrokinetic. A firebender. And they always ran hot.

Not frigid. With a hiss, Supervillain spoke a few words into their earpiece, before disconnecting it. Ordering their henchmen to keep watch, while they dealt with something very, very important.

They laid the pyrokinetic upon a couch-- having holed up in their living area-- and examined them in the better light.

Their eyes were closed, as was their mouth, except for the slightest parting of blue-hued lips to inhale the tiniest of gasps.

Moving downwards, their neck, skin pulled taut and pale to the point of nigh-translucence, was marked pointedly with a series of angry, red lines. They seemed to wrap all the way around. Some were broader, while some were fine, delicate, nearly sharp enough to draw blood.

Strangulation marks.

If their body showed anything, it was that either whoever had kept them captive had had no intent for them to escape, or had simply not cared in what condition their bait was found. They were draped in a cotton top and trousers that were only thick enough to maintain their modesty, but not nearly enough to maintain the slightest fiber of warmth. Sprouting from sleeves and neckholes, bruises of both a deep blue and a sickly purple bloomed, formed into shapes did not so much as attempt to hide that they had been sourced from hands or bats.

It was only when Supervillain's scan reached their feet that they found definitive proof of escape. A single foot, the left, had been torn nearly to shreds, as though it had been chewed by a wild beast. The biting circle of a metal restraint could be seen marked into mangled skin, from where it had once sat upon the ankles, to where it had been slid all the way down, without care for bodily destruction.

Villain had escaped. Villain had escaped, and they had come to see... Supervillain? It didn't make sense.

But, with all the others in hiding...

They were their last hope.

It was with an almost superhuman speed that the supervillain contacted their medical staff, stating to arrive as soon as possible, that any traffic tickets would be paid off.

Ten minutes. Ten minutes to their arrival. Could Villain make it that long? They were so, so cold.

Supervillain was just about the furthest thing on the planet from a doctor, but they were also rather far from being an idiot. No human was meant to be this cold, especially one whose body was designed for the production of flame.

They took a decorative fleece, draped over a nearly ottoman, and held it nervously before their chest. What were they supposed to do?

Villain was too cold. Supervillain wasn't going to let them die!

They pulled the blanket about their back, wrapping it around their front, covering as much skin as they could manage. They expected a reaction, a shout, or- Or something.

But, their newfound, injured ward did little but blearily open their eyes. Behind them, there was nothing.

"Are you okay?" Supervillain spoke to a brick wall. "What happened? What did they do to you?"

A heavy blink, and their eyelids drifted back closed. What was wrong with them?

"Villain!" They snapped, raising their voice loud enough to scare away any wildlife in a one mile radius. "Look at me! Wake up!"

Their tone took on that of what they used during interrogations. Anything to wake their ice-cold ally up.

Their eyes once more opened, focusing ever so slightly. They opened their mouth, gaping momentarily like a fish, before once more closing their jaw.

This wasn't exhaustion, Supervillain realized with a start. This was drugs. Heavy sedation. Nigh-paralysis. That was all that could be seen in their gaze- exhaustion and fear.

What were they afraid of?

"My henchmen have cleared the perimeter." They spoke as though someone in such a state could understand words of such a length. "You're safe."

It did nothing. With a shaking hand, Supervillain reached a hand forward, placing it upon their shoulder.

That elicited a reaction. A whimper.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. It's okay."

In their eyes, something shifted.

"Whoever did this to you..." Public enemy number one, the most dangerous person at Metropolis, the terror of every child growled. "I'm going to make them suffer."

When Supervillain's medical staff arrived, it was to the sight of their terrifying boss, coaxing soup through the lips of someone who was identified as a threat to national security.

[myhockeyworld87]

What Happens in Vegas...Doesn’t Always Stay There - Jacob Markstrom - Part 1

Word Count: 4,885

POV: Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Language, Smut, Drinking (all the good stuff)

Notes: Well here it is the new fic that’s been in my head. I tossed around a couple different guys for this, but some of you suggested Marky and well looks like it stuck. Trying to do this a little different and keep this in an all read POV, so we shall see how that works. I don’t see this being super long maybe between 5 or 6 parts. Hope you guys enjoy. As always feedback is welcome. Happy Reading!

They say that New York is the city that never sleeps but whoever 'they' is, well, they got it wrong. It has to be Vegas. Lights are always flashing whether you were indoors or out, the jangly sound of slot machines can be heard at all hours and the seven deadly sins seem to be on full display twenty-four hours a day. It's no wonder their tagline for years was 'What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.' If only that were true.

You wish you could blame someone else but you can't. Vegas was all your idea. As maid of honor, it fell to you to plan your best friend's bachelorette party, and in your mind, there was only one spot, Vegas. Now, you were second-guessing your choice as your head was pounding like there were a thousand drummers who decided to perform at the Super Bowl halftime show, only in your brain. There was only one thought that made it through the marching band playing in your head. What the hell happened last night?

 Maybe you should start off small, like where were you first, considering that the little drummer boy was now doing backflips in your head. You were definitely in bed, which was evident as you could feel the mattress underneath you. You could also feel the duvet comforter covering your body, but there was something else. Something a bit heavier, almost as if a weighted blanket was covering your stomach and your breast, but it wasn't that. It was an arm slung across your midsection and a very large hand cupping your one boob. God, you hoped it was still attached to a body. You should really take a peek. It would be the only decent thing to do.

 As you gradually lifted one eyelid open, the first thing you noticed was that you were not in your hotel room, as the wall looked completely different. No reason to panic, you told yourself. Everything would come back to you as soon as this god blessed pounding ceased. Peering the other eye open, you got back to business at seeing if there was a body attached to the arm currently trapping you to the bed. Carefully, you turned your head to the side to see a very large and very naked man firmly attached to the aforementioned arm. He was gorgeous as he lay there sleeping ever so peacefully. You drank in his features, kind of like you downed drink after drink last night. His brown hair had this golden hue to it that made your fingers want to reach out and touch it, though you refrained. Then there was the beard covering his face, not too much and not too little, and now that you were thinking about it; you definitely felt some of that beard burn on your thighs. If you could only remember last night. The only logical thing to do was to go back to the start of this, back to a time when you were sober.

 It started months ago when your best friend Kennedy got engaged. You honestly didn't see it coming that fast. She'd only been dating Ryan for a little less than a year, but he asked and she said yes, and when she asked you to be her maid of honor you screamed and laughed and cried, and told her you couldn't wait to plan her bachelorette party. Everyone knew the bridal shower was only for boring stuffy old aunts so that they could buy her the latest air fryer or new dish pattern. The bachelorette party was where all the fun was, and what better place to have it than Las Vegas.

 Of course, everyone agreed with you. The only wrench in the plan was that Kennedy decided to up her wedding date and make it a nine-month engagement. That barely left time to find a dress let alone plan the most outrageous bachelorette party of the century. You would've said decade but twenty-twenty was fastly approaching. Thankfully, you had connections. Night one was more sedate since you all were just arriving at the MGM hotel at different times; eleven of you in total when Ryan's sister decided to join at the last minute. You booked a private room at Lago in the Bellagio for all of you to enjoy.

 It was the second night, that was the piece de resistance. A limo picked you all up and took you over to Excalibur to see the legendary Australian group, Thunder from Down Under. I mean what was Vegas without seeing a male stripper or two. The next day, a private bungalow was waiting for you at Wet Republic in the MGM Hotel. One would've thought the night watching men strip naked would've been your undoing but apparently, it all started poolside.

 "I seriously can't believe he pulled you up on stage and proceeded to dry hump you up there," Kelsey rehashed.

 "Really, Kels?" Kennedy said downing another mimosa. "How could you not see that happening? (Y/N) has known Nate for a couple years. I mean he did get us front row tickets." This was all true. Nate, the emcee for Thunder from Down Under and you were friends, had been since your firm had done their calendar shoot two years ago. He had generously given you prime seating to the show that night and also set you up with a few other perks for the trip. "The only thing I'm surprised at, is that this one," she bumped you with her hip, spilling both hers and your mimosas. "Didn't end up going home with him last night."

 "Oh my god, Kenny you did not just say that." She may be the bride and your best friend but really, she was pushing the line.

 "Come on, it's not like it hasn't happened before."

 At least four pairs of eyes turned towards you, Ryan's sister Gretchen being one of them. "Ok, admittedly, I slept with him, once." Both Kennedy and Kelsey gave you that look. "Ok, maybe it was twice, but he has a girlfriend now, and we are just friends."

 "I'll give you that," Jade spoke up in your defense and suddenly she was going to earn the title of new best friend, not that the lines weren't blurred in your little group as you were all sort of best friends. "But what about Edward, the one with the turtle tattoo on his hip."

 "You were so looking at more than his hip." Eva teased while Jade simply hid behind her champagne glass. "But yeah (Y/N), he was totally hitting on you."

 "He was not."

 "Oh, he was," Kennedy added her two cents. "And as the bride I take offense, they should've been hitting on me."

 "Wait, why would they hit on you?" Jade sputtered. "You're taken bitch." Of course, bitch was said in the most loving way.

 "I'm not dead."

 "No, but I'm sure my brother wouldn't appreciate it." Leave it to Gretchen to be the mood killer. "I think I'm going to go take a nap. I'll meet you at the pool later."

 She headed out the door, and honestly, you were ecstatic about it, for she was too judgmental for your liking.  "Wait, Gretch, that's not what I meant."

 "Leave her go, maybe a nap would do her good." They were Jade's words but your sentiments. "Now back to why (Y/N) did not take that beautiful man up on his offer last night."

 "There was no offer," you insisted.

 "Come on (Y/N), there was an offer. There's always an offer. Remember when you were doing promo for that Batman flick." You tried to shut Kennedy up with a death glare, but she continued to prattle on. "We all know you ended up doing the nasty with Superman."

 "WHAT?!?!" Yeah, that definitely came out of the other nine people's mouths in the room.

 "Thanks, Ken. No one knew that but you."

 "Oops, my bad." She had the grace to at least be embarrassed about the whole thing.

 "You mean you slept with that guy, the British one, tall, all muscular, extremely good looking. Damn it what's his name." You could see Eva wracking her brain for his name and you just didn't want to go there.

 "Hen…"

 "Yes, him," you admitted, stopping Jade before she could finish his name. "Can we please change the subject?"

 "Why, when we are all living vicariously through you," Kelsey added. "Especially poor Kennedy, who is now committed to spending the rest of her life with one man."

 "Geez, you make it sound like a death sentence. I love Ryan and I'm perfectly fine spending the rest of my days with him."

 You had to suppress an eye roll. Not because you didn't think that Ryan and Kennedy weren't in love. If you were being honest, you just thought they were rushing things a bit. The problem was telling your best friend that; you tried in the past and never succeeded. "We know you're in love Kenny." And then because you couldn't stop yourself, you added. "It's just are you sure you want to be tied down so young? We still have our whole life to live."

 "Jesus, (Y/N). We all know you're not ready for marriage and what comes with it, but we can't all be you with your fancy job in LA, meeting celebrities all the time. Some of us have real lives and want to settle down and have a family."

 "Kenny, that's not what I meant." The last thing you wanted to do was argue with her at her bachelorette party. "I only want you to be happy."

 "You have a funny way of showing it." The air in the room took on a chill and not from the air conditioning. If you didn't do something soon this party was going to go downhill.

 "Oh, would you look at the time," Jade chimed in. "We should probably be heading down to the pool." Everyone grabbed their stuff, Kennedy giving you the cold shoulder as you made your way out of the hotel suite. Jade came up and wrapped an arm around you. "She'll be fine. She's just on edge after the whole Gretchen thing. We'll give her a few shots and you two will be good as new."

 "I hope so." Unfortunately, things weren't fine. Kennedy seemed to avoid you and your attempt to make things right, even after a few shots. That didn't stop you from taking a few more. You had a strict one drink to one water rule, that you threw out the door today. Downing shots like it was your job. It was probably an hour later when you were in one of the private pools, with a few of the girls that a large group of very attractive men walked in. They were definitely different from Nate and the guys from Thunder, and at first, you thought it was some fraternity get together with how young some of them looked, but at second glance there were some gentlemen that were your age or older.

 "They've gotta be baseball players," Eva whispered over after they took up residence in the three bungalows next to you.

 "Nah, none of them have a dad bod." Jade was right, they were too fit to be in the MLB. You'd been around enough major leaguers to know while some were incredibly in shape, some were not. That didn't seem to be the case with this group.

 "I'm gonna rule out NFL as well," you told the girls. "None of these guys look like they're an offensive guard. Those guys are huge." You noticed a few of them staring at the six of you that were in the smaller pool reserved only for the bungalows. Grabbing another shot, this had to be your fourth in just sixty minutes, you downed the drink really starting to feel its effects.

 "Looks like we may just find out here," Jade said, nodding to let you know some of the guys were headed your way.

 "Ladies, care if we join you?" One of the men asked, you had to admit he was extremely handsome but also gave off an air that he had more than a few notches in his bedpost.

 A couple of the girls nodded, but when no one said anything, you found yourself saying, "Come on in."

 "So, what brings you to Vegas?" This from a different guy, who had quite a number of tattoos covering his arms, and you had to admit that the ink just made him more attractive, that and his height. He was well over six feet tall and you didn't mind looking up to see his face as he took the seat next to you.

 "Bachelorette party," Jade blurted out and you saw a few eyebrows raise.

 "Tell me you're not the bride?" His breath was warm or maybe it was the sun, either way, you definitely felt a warmth in your belly that wasn't there moments ago.

 "I am definitely not the bride." Shit that sounded desperate. "Though I am the maid of honor, at least I hope I still am." You looked inside the bungalow to see Kennedy in deep conversation with Gretchen.

 "Hmm, sounds like there's a story there. Care to tell me? I'm Jacob by the way, though the guys call me Marky."

 He held out his hand, the one that didn't have a beer in it, and you took it. "(Y/N), and I'll tell you though it's rather dull, on one condition." He quirked a brow at you. "You tell me what sport you play."

 He chuckled. "What makes you think I play a sport? Maybe I'm an investment banker."

 "Well, first there's your accent, though I suppose you could pull off investment banker with that. Second, you are all…how shall I say this…physically fit. A quality most athletes have and considering the number of you; I doubt this is some kind of investment banker convention."

 "Ok, I'll give you that, though we could be bodybuilders or…" the lights on the billboard on the strip changed to a Thunder From Down Under ad and you saw a light bulb in his head go off. "Or male strippers." Shit, you almost spit your drink out on that one. "What, too much a stretch? Maybe it's your lucky day." He started to sway his hips in the pool, one of his friends joining him while you and Jade tried to contain your laughter.

 "Nah, it's already been (Y/N)'s lucky day with them. She knows them all rather intimately."

 "Jade!" you yelled at your friend, or ex-friend, though you weren't in a position to be losing anymore at the moment.

 "Oops." She at least had the decency to look embarrassed. Alcohol made everyone do some crazy things and Jade was no exception to the rule.

 "Intimately huh?" Jacob asked as you splashed water on Jade causing her to shriek and hide behind Jacob's friend who you learned was someone named Erik. "Have I lost the competition before it even starts?"

 "There's no competition."

 "So, you're single then?"

 "Yes, though you still haven't answered my question." As soon as Jacob heard you say yes, he slid a little closer to you.

 "What was that question again?" He said with laughter in his eyes and before you could get annoyed with him, though you doubted that would happen, he added. "I remember, just giving you a hard time. Anyhow, we play hockey."

 "Oh, nice. Like professional level? Or are there minors in that sport?" You really weren't one hundred percent sure. You'd taken in a game here and there but not really paid any particular attention to it.

 "We're in the NHL, playing for Vancouver. Just came out to do a little team bonding before the season starts. So, are we going to talk about this intimate encounter or why you think your maid of honor duties are getting revoked?"

 "I think I need another drink to talk about either of them."

 Jacob flagged down one of the personal waitresses for the area, requesting a couple of shots and drinks for you both, and you had to admit you liked the way he worked. "Now that that's taken care of…"

 You blew out a frustrated breath, more with yourself than anything else. "I said something stupid right before we came down here." He kept silent, his eyes totally focused on you and what you were saying. A refreshing change from some of the men you spoke to. "I just think she's rushing into things. They've only known each other a year and we are too young to get married. She's only twenty-five, we have our whole lives ahead of us. You know?" He simply nodded his agreement before you continued. "I want to see the world, go places, and do things before I'm strapped down to one man forever. Not to mention being tied down with kids. How can Kenny not want that too?"

 "I totally agree. I've gotten to see a lot with hockey but there's no way I want to be tied down just yet."

 "Exactly, you totally get me." Your drinks arrived then and Jacob took one shot and handed it to you before taking the other.

 "Well, I say we toast to being young and free with no commitments."

 "I'll drink to that." He clinked his glass to yours and the two of you downed the drinks. It seemed like the DJ noticed the change in your mood, as the music got louder and the energy seemed to kick up a notch. You got up and started to dance in the pool; the other girls joining in. It wasn't long before you felt Jacob behind you. His hips grinding into your backside, as his large hands encircled your waist.

 Drinks flowed freely the entire day, and if you were being honest, you couldn't remember a time you'd been that drunk before the sun had even set. You were laughing and dancing, and quite literally having the time of your life; your maid of honor duties completely forgotten at this point. Gretchen came up to you at some point and told you that she, Kennedy, and Kelsey were heading up and would catch up with the rest of you later. Everyone else was having too much fun with the Canucks to want to leave.

 A few more drinks and an hour later, the party was winding down. Most of your friends had headed up to their room to pass out, only a few stayed behind. Jacob had somehow maneuvered you into one of the bungalows that was empty. You shared a few kisses here and there out in the pool area, but now that you were out of view of prying eyes things were getting a bit more heated. Jacob's hands were on your ass, as his tongue was down your throat; not that yours wasn't doing the same thing to him. He moaned into your mouth, the sound going straight to your core. Your bikini bottom was no longer wet from the water of the pool, but the press of Jacob's cock against it.

 You both stumbled back, landing down on the large daybed in the bungalow, though somehow Jacob's reflexes softened your fall. His hands went straight to your breasts, kneading the flesh there. He was just about to untie the string of your bikini top when someone walked in. "Jesus, Marky! Take it upstairs would you!" You squinted trying to make out who it was but at this point not remembering anyone's name besides the man that was on top of you.

 "Oh, shit…thought I was in my room." It was funny, you thought the same thing. "Sorry, Jay."

 "His name is Jay? Like the letter?" you mumbled as Jacob helped you off the couch. "What comes after J?" Fuck you were drunk and when you were drunk you tended to ramble. You once actually talked to a damn parking meter because you thought it was a person, and you were pretty sure you could talk to one now if there was one around.

 "Doesn't matter, babe," Jacob said kissing your lips. "Wanna head up to my room?"

 You had to go up on your tiptoes to loop your arms around his neck. "Yes, I do." He planted a kiss on your lips then cupped your ass cheeks causing you to jump a bit.

 "Let's go," he finally said breaking the kiss. You had enough sense to grab your things and tell your friends not to worry that you'd catch up with them tomorrow. They all winked and nodded or at least that's what it looked like in your head because that's when things started to get hazy. You had vague recollections of making your way through the casino, stopping here and there. Part of you thought that the two of you even stopped to play roulette only so you could have another drink.

 You did remember tumbling through the door of Jacob's suite. His lips were on yours and neither of you were paying attention as he unlocked it. Thankfully his quick reflexes caught you; apparently, even when drunk, goalies couldn't lose some of those natural instincts.

 His hands, you remember them being everywhere on your body, and how incredible they made you feel. His calloused touch lit a fire inside you, that had nothing to do with the alcohol. He rid you of your white swim cover-up easily, flinging the garment across the room, and then his lips were all over your body. It was easy to recall the way he made you feel, as he softly bit down on your nipple through the fabric of your bikini. You'd craved this all afternoon. It had been a couple months since you'd been with a man and Jacob was everything you'd been waiting for.

 You ripped off his shirt. Your hands immediately going to his chest and roaming down his tattooed arms. He was all muscle, hard and lean everywhere, but when you slid your hand down inside his swim trunks to his cock; oh, it was hard all right, but lean was not a word you'd used to describe it. You were barely able to wrap your fingers around his girth, and as you stroked him, you realized God had not only blessed him with height but length as well. The man was made to star in a porno, you thought as you shoved his trunks down.

 Somehow, during that time Jacob had managed to get your bikini top off, though you supposed with its simple string ties it wasn't a hard feat to manage. You dropped to your knees, licking your lips before taking your tongue and swirling it around the head of Jacob's cock. "Det kanns sa bra min vackra prinsessa (that feels so good my beautiful princess)." Jacob's mumblings had you pulling back and looking up at him. "Don't stop, baby." This time you knew what he said as you slowly sucked him into your mouth. There was no way that you could take him all in, so you pumped the rest of him with your fist. You hollowed out your cheeks as you sucked him inside, using every trick in the book you knew. Jacob muttered more in Swedish to you, things you had no clue as to what they meant, but judging by his reaction they were things he was enjoying very much. He threaded his hands through your hair, pulling it back so you could look up at him with big doe eyes. "Jesus," he swore, his hips bucking into your mouth at the sight of you with his cock in it, looking like that. After a few more thrusts, he pulled out shouting," Tillrackligt, enough. I think you're trying to kill me, princess."

 There was something about the way he called you princess. It wasn't anything you'd been called before and most times you'd preferred babe or baby, but the way the word rolled off his tongue did things to your insides.

 Jacob helped you off the ground, his lips ghosting over yours before picking you up and tossing you onto the bed. His large form handled you easily, arranging your body just the way he wanted to before slipping off your bikini bottoms. His large hands worked their way from your ankles to your calves, all the way up to your thighs; spreading your legs as he went. "So beautiful." He traced his fingers lightly over your pussy lips and you quivered in anticipation of what was to come. One long finger slid between your folds all the way up to your clit, once, then twice, and then once again. "So wet, prinsessa, and all because of me."

 "Mmm, yes, Jacob." He dipped that same finger inside you then. The digit slipping in easily and so he added another. Then his mouth was there. Tongue flicking over your clit in a way that made you squirm with pleasure. "Oh yes," you moaned, caught up in the pleasure that was coursing through your veins. "Just like that." Your hips lifted up on their own accord, seeking more of what this giant of a man was doing to you. Jacob never let up, making a come-hither motion with his fingers and you found yourself unraveling around him; legs shaking, breath panting as your orgasm overtook you.

 “So pretty when you cum, prinsessa.” He pulled his fingers from your pussy then brought them to your lips. You opened without any thought, licking your juices off of them. Before you could get them clean, Jacob’s mouth joined yours, kissing you while you sucked on his index and middle fingers. Your tongues mingled together, as Jacob positioned himself between your thighs. The head of his cock nudged between your folds and you sighed into his mouth at just that first touch. Slowly, he filled your pussy, until he bottomed out. Only then did he release your lips. “Fuck you feel so good.”

 Jacob loved the feel of you clenching around him. It felt like he was in heaven. Part of him didn’t even want to move that’s how good your body felt, but then you shifted your hips up just a hair bit and he had to suck in a breath at the pleasure that went straight to his groin for fear he would spend inside you right then and there. He willed his body under control and only then started to move.

 With every snap of Jacob’s hips, a wave of pleasure crashed over you. Your nails raked down his back, probably leaving marks, but it seemed to only spur him on. “Yes, Prinsessa,” he moaned out, as you bent your knees allowing him to go deeper. You moaned as he hit that treasured spot that had you seeing stars. “You like that?” Another moan was his answer, as he continued to fuck you.

 That peculiar feeling started to wash over you. Your pussy fluttering around Jacob’s cock as the orgasm finally broke. Back arching, legs trembling, you were moaning out his name as the climax seemed to continue, as Jacob drove wildly into you. As you came down off your high, Jacob found his. With a few erratic thrusts, he was spending deep inside you with a loud groan. He slumped forward, his sweety forehead resting on yours. “Det dar var otroligt.” You looked at him curiously, your brain not working at all but also knowing he was speaking something in Swedish to you. He smiled, a glorious one that you found yourself getting lost in and you found yourself returning it. “I said that was amazing.”

 “Yes, it was,” you breathed out. Jacob rolled you both onto your sides, tucking you into his. It wasn’t long before both of you were passing out.

 Now here you were, finally putting most of the pieces together from last night. You looked back over at the sleeping man, who had given you such pleasure even in your inebriated state. He really was gorgeous. You honestly wouldn’t mind going for round two, after a couple of Tylenol, of course. Speaking of which you needed to get up and see if you had any in your bag. If only you could move him without waking him. You carefully took your right arm and went to move his left which was slung across you, but then something caught your eye. There on his ring finger was a ring. Oh, it wasn’t just any ring, it was a wedding ring! You knew he didn’t have it on when you were in the pool. You were not the type of woman to go hitting on a married man, let alone sleep with him.

 You pulled your other arm out from underneath him, fully intending to grab your stuff and get the hell out of there when you noticed a bright and shiny diamond on your ring finger. There was also a matching wedding band. Then like a tsunami hitting the beach of a small island a memory came flooding back to you of the two of you entering the hotel chapel. This man wasn’t married to just anyone, he was married to you!  

.

[mxtantrights]

past lives | 10

a/n: final part!! AHHHHHHH stay tuned for the epilogue!!! And thank you guys so much for coming on this journey with me. I really appreciate it and YOU! <3

You awoke to the smell of cement and dry wall. It smelled so bad you could feel it in your throat. Your eyes cleared up to the spectacle in front of you. It was Ra's and Nyssa with their arms crossed.

“Is this some sick parent teacher conference?” you joked.

“No games. You failed to deliver the package.” he said.

“You mean your grandson? The one who left of his own volition?”

“Nonsense he is the heir to everything I have. He can’t leave.”

You looked over more to your former friend, “Nice to see you too Nyssa.”

“Why didn’t you stick to the plan?” she asked.

You look at Ra’s and he’s already staring you down. You don’t think he’s told her. It would have been best not to. Withholding information is his favorite skill anyways.

You’re about to say something when Ra’s comes over and backhands you. It makes you curl in the chair they’ve put you in. You weren’t surprised, that didn’t make it any less worse however. 

He really doesn’t want her to know.

“All you had to do was seek him out. You couldn’t even do it.” 

His smack- you hate to say it- brought up a thought to the front of your mind. 

“When did you know about my father?” you asked.

It’s in words that Nyssa isn’t able to pick up on. You know. He knows. It’s clear he doesn’t want her to know. Another hint at telling her might earn you worse than a slap.

“After you came out of the pit. I looked into your identity some more and did some research.” he said.

“Tell me,” you move your arms bound to the back of the chair, “Did you spawn Damian afterwards because of me?”

“No, you’re not the reason. I had already been watching him for some time. You were just a happy coincidence.” he answered.

Ra's folds his hands behind his back and moves around Nyssa, and then around you. In a circle. The predator and the prey. What was Nyssa this time around?

“You never reached out.” you said directly to her.

“You left.” she shot back.

“He wanted me gone.” you nodded to her father.

“It was a test you imbecile!” she shouted.

It made you flinch. You realized that maybe Nyssa wasn’t going to let bygones be bygones. And from her stand point she didn’t have to. You hurt her. 

Ra’s circles around you once more. His eyes never left Nyssa though. It gave you a sickening feeling. How everyone was his pawns. Specifically Talia and Nyssa. The women in that family needed serious counseling after being brought up by a man like that.

“If it was a test then why did he let me live? The moment I stepped out the door I should have been dead!” you shouted back.

She stayed silent. So you continued.

“He’s lying to you Nyssa.” you said.

“She’s right I lied to you. It wasn’t part of some test.”

Nyssa turned to her father in shock. You were sat wondering why he would give himself up so easily. What did he have to play here?

Whatever it was could wait. He was far enough now to not strike you again. You needed to let her know.

“He wanted me as a back up for Damian. My half-brother.” you said.

Nyssa turned back to you and when she did Ra's smacked her too. You winced for her, his hand print would probably be on your face in a few minutes. Just like old times.

He turned to you.

“You ruined my plan to bring my grandson back. Now he knows I’m here.” he said.

“He ran away for good reason. I’m glad he did. I would've never handed him over to you anyways.” you spoke.

“You didn’t have to hand him to me, you were just going to serve him to me on a platter.”

“No. Because I know you were tracking me through my phone, both of them. You think I didn’t notice how heavy that flash drive is? I know a cloning device when I hold one. And the burner phone? That was cheap work.” 

He began to laugh. It made you sit further back in your seat. Him laughing was never a good sign. And it never sounded right. All those years in the pit must’ve done something to his laugh, along with the rest of his mind.

Ra's al Ghul came face to face with you. He wasn’t a pleasant man to look at. His breath even more telling on how close to death he is. But you looked him in the eye anyways.

“And that’s why you’re here. The bargaining chip. He’ll come for you, because just as you care for him he cares for you.”

He lets up and in the background you saw Nyssa shift her arm really quickly. You don’t know what it was for. 

-

The family had gotten a hit on your location. It had been four hours since you were taken. Everyone decided to suit up and hit the streets for the first two hours. Redhood and Red Robin took downtown, Nightwing enlisted the help of GCPD to search Midtown and Batman and Robin took Uptown. With the league they couldn’t be too careful.

In the middle of searching is when they got a comms message from Alfred. Your phone had pinged off a tower in Crime Alley. As Bruce and Damian were closest they began to head over to that neighborhood. The rest of the boys and some footmen from the GCPD were on their way over.

Batman and Robin got there and Alfred was able to narrow down the closest tower that your phone pinged off of. 

In the bat mobile Damian remained quiet. He had kept mum about the real reason you were there with him when Gotham Academy had caught on fire. Bruce could tell it was something he wanted to speak about alone.

“So what's the real reason?” 

Damian let out a sigh, “This isn’t our first meeting. We’ve had a relationship since I was born. Back on the island.”

“With the league?”

“Yes. It was sad when we could no longer see each other, grandfather had offered an out. I never thought we would see each other again.”

Bruce stayed quiet for a moment. All that could be heard was the engine of the batmobile. 

“Did you know you were related?”

“I found that out the same day as Gotham Academy. We had a conversation later that night.”

“You snuck out?” 

“I had to father. It was for good reason. We were able to put the pieces together. I said I would handle grandfather.” 

“Damian.”

“This has gone on for too long. It’s my fault. If something happens-”

“We’ll make it.”

Then he steps more on the gas.

- 

Your head lulled forward after the sixth blow he dealt you. It wasn’t like you earned it. He wanted to prove a point to Nyssa. That you were expendable to him. That in the grand scheme of things you didn’t matter.

“All that training, wasted! You can’t even get out of the restraints.” 

You swallowed the blood that was in your mouth, “What makes you think he’ll come for me?”

“We’re going to send a public ransom across all of Gotham. I figure a hundred thousand as the bounty will circulate enough to get to him. And then he’ll come and find you.”

“He’s just a child.”

“No he’s more than a child. He’s my grandson, the son of Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul.”

“And what does she think about all this?” 

“Enough!” he shouted.

You were punched again. 

“I’ll get someone to send the ransom around.” Nyssa’s voice said.

You lifted your head up to look at her but her back was already turned to you. This however did earn you another punch, to the gut this time, by Ra’s. You let out a disgusting sound at the impact.

“Instead of a coincidence you’ve become an inconvenience. This time I won’t put you in the pit.” 

“Why would you ever put me in there in the first place, huh? I was a no one! You  didn’t know me or my mother. You just snatched my body and made me one of your foot soldiers.” you screamed through the incoming headache.

He did that mechanical laugh again and you wanted to spit at him. You never thought he was a good man. All the things he did. The things he told you to do. You can’t absolve all of the blame but he was an undeniable reason why you did those things.

Drop offs turned into stake outs. Stake outs into undercover. Undercover into sedation. With him the lines were blurred, because there was supposed to be nothing you wouldn’t do for him. But you chose Damian. Or, you chose Damian’s new life over his old one. And he didn't like that one bit.

The door bused open and in came Batman. You didn't think you'd live to see him up close. It’s true that while in Gotham you would probably see him once or twice. But this?

You watched as Ra's attacked him on sight. It was like the two were in sync. Batman hit, Ra’s dodged. A kick here, a swerve there. They seemed to be equals. You know you could never pull that off. Ra’s would have you flat out in under a minute.

When Batman should have swerved he didn’t. And Ra’s got the best of him with a punch. This gave way to a kick to the side and a head pull into the ground. You struggled to get out of your restraints. It wasn’t looking good for either of you.

Ra’s picked him up, and you watched in horror as he hurled him toward you. Batman collided with you so hard that he broke the chair you were in. It sent you back into one of the many crates in the room.

Batman groaned as you lifted him off of you. You slid over to the side on the floor. He was definitely not light. He knocked the only wind out of you that remained after Ra’s punishment.

No more chair meant your hands were free.

You pulled your arms around to the front. You could try to take him like this. Even though you could hear him laughing in the foreground. 

“Here.” 

You looked over at Batman. He was holding out one of his knives, shaped like a bat. You took it without passing a comment on it. You passed the blade over the restraints and made quick work of them.

On your feet, the laughter stops. You inched closer and closer to him.

“I didn’t snatch your body, your mother handed you over when she found out you were murdered. She asked me for this!” he said.

You stopped. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“When you died she went to a very dark place. With how dark she got it didn’t take long for her to find one of my associates and get in contact with me. She begged for you to be brought back. Her child!”

You ran into the attack. The words that came from his mouth just made you see red. He threw his fists but you ducked and weaved. After weaving you landed multiple blows on him. You grabbed him by the shoulders and brought your knee into him. 

He went down a bit, only for a few seconds, then got his bearings back. Ra’s spit out the blood from his mouth.

“You’ll leave here with no parents. And it’ll be at my behest.” 

In through the door comes Robin. A robin with a face too familiar to hide behind a mask. 

“Grandfather!” the little robin shouted.

That makes you look behind you. At Batman. Bruce Wayne.

Your father was Batman. Your father.

[starfleetbotanist]

Physician, Heal Thyself (But Not Always)

🌹

It had been stupid, even he would admit that. Academy students were typically supposed to avoid bar fights. But Cupcake had been talking smack, and he'd had a few too many, so he had allowed the inevitable to happen. What he hadn't expected was for six other cadets to decide to use him as a punching bag. More surprising, though, was Bones.

He'd vaguely heard Bones trying to reason with his assailants before the roar in his ears drowned him out, but a fist to the stomach is a much more pressing matter than a pacifist doctor trying to tell you logic you don't want to hear, so he'd more or less written him off. That is, until he saw a cadet fall at his feet and turned to see his friend wading- and punching- through the crowd towards him.

He leapt at one of Cupcakes cronies as he landed a solid punch to Bones' face, causing the man to stumble back, a protectiveness he hadn't felt since Tarsus rising in him. But Bones regained his footing and gave as good as he'd gotten, before finally reaching Jim. Then he grabbed him by the collar of his uniform and dragged him from the bar, much like a mama cat with her errant kitten.

He stared at him, stunned, the entire way back to their room, Bones loudly scolding him about safety and rules the whole way, wiping blood from his now evidently broken nose. A sick feeling overcame him. What happened now? Was Bones going to leave, like Sam had?

He found himself dumped on the couch in an ungraceful heap as Bones' angry footsteps carried him to the bathroom and back. He sat on the coffee table, and Jim was relieved to see his medkit resting on his knee. He was (mostly) a model patient as Bones scrubbed at his cuts with antiseptic before using the portable dermal regen.

"You've got too damn good a brain, Jim, to go and get it knocked around by fools like that, y'hear me?"

He blinked. No, he hadn't heard him. Upon realizing that, Bones rolled his eyes before reaching over and lightly slapping his head- a move too gentle to actually hurt, and which he immediately followed with an affectionate ruffle of Jim's hair.

"This, your brain. Use it."

With that, he got up and headed back to the bathroom. Jim followed on his heels.

"That's it? You're not... More angry?"

"Jim, I knew when I signed up to be your friend there'd be risks. If a bar fight's the most danger we get in together I'd be surprised."

"But you got hurt!"

"Yeah, and you owe me for that."

He stopped in front of the mirror, opening his case again and finding the regen and a hypo. He reached up and, with a grunt, popped his nose back into place. He swore as he turned the hypo on himself, eyes watering.

"Scratch that, you really owe me," he said through gritted teeth.

"Sorry," Jim replied. He meant it. He hated seeing Bones hurt.

"Just-- use your head next time. Okay?"

"Yeah-- yeah, okay, Bones. I promise."

"Good." He washed the blood on his face and hands before turning back to face him. "Then we can forget about it."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"Okay. Thanks, Bones."

"Anytime, kid."

🌹

Nyota held her wrist to her chest, waiting in the academy clinic. She had hurt it in combat class that day, but thankfully not too badly. The clinic was understaffed that day, and she had told Christine she was fine waiting. It was just her and two other cadets in the waiting room, after all. Not everyone was quite so patient, though.

One of the others, a command cadet, was complaining loudly, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair, and bouncing his leg in agitation.

"How much longer is this gonna take?" He asked when Christine opened the door to call another patient back.

"Doctor McCoy or Doctor M'Benga will be able to see you soon, sir," she answered. "We will get to you as soon as we can."

Nyota prided herself on her ability to read people, and what she saw from the other cadet was not encouraging. He jumped up to his feet, crossing over to Christine with surprising speed.

"You can't just come back here!" She said, positioning herself between the cadet and the door.

"Watch me!" He snapped, grabbing her shoulder and shoving her out of the way.

Nyota rose, but she didn't need to interfere. Just as he was stepping into the hallway, he ran face first into Doctor McCoy, summoned by Christine's shout.

"Didn't you hear the lady? She said you ain't gettin' in here!" He snapped, though Nyota could see him running a clinical eye over the cadet. "Easy now. Looks like you're in withdrawal. How many stims have you taken?"

"None of your business!" The man snapped, and before anyone could stop him, caught McCoy on the side of the head with a right cross.

Christine leapt in, then, getting him into a safe hold and grabbing his arm to pin behind him as McCoy called for M'Benga to bring a sedative.

"Dammit," he swore as the other doctor handed him the hypo. "Sucker punches harder than he looks."

Once he was sedated, security called, and a treatment plan discussed for the over-use of stims to get him through the command courses, the cadet was taken to Starfleet Medical for a proper detox.

"You okay, Chris?" McCoy asked. Nyota had come to Christine's side as the cadet was taken away. The two had been friends since their first year.

"Just fine," she promised. "Didn't even fall. What about you?"

"I'll be fine," he shrugged. "Happens sometimes. Nothin' the regen can't fix."

"You might want to get on that before it swells too much, Len" M'Benga said. "I can finish up here."

"It'll hold," McCoy insisted. "But you can take that patient we just called back. C'mon, Ny, I only need one eye to see the swelling in that wrist."

"Only if you fix your eye, too," she threatened, following him back to one of the rooms.

"Wrist first," he said, taking out his tricorder. She answered his questions, let him strap the regen unit to her, and stared him into submission until he began treating himself while they waited.

"Are you sure you're alright?" She asked once they had both finished.

"Ain't that my line? Any residual pain?"

"None, thank you. Now answer me."

"I'm okay," he promised. "Not my first rodeo with someone hyped up on stims, and it won't be my last."

"Can't say I envy you."

"Yeah, well, it happens. Now, you be careful in that combat class, okay? Stretch right, and be careful which moves you use on which partners."

"I will. Thanks, Len."

"Sure, Ny."

🌹

"Scotty."

He looked up from the manual he was reading at the sound from the bathroom door.

"Ah, Doc! What can I do for you?"

"You can take a break from straining your eyes and come have some coffee."

He laughed, lowering the PADD he was reading from.

"Aye, that sounds good. What're you doin' up so early?"

He followed him into his room, where he could smell fresh coffee brewing. Like many things, McCoy seemed to prefer real coffee, and while Scotty tended to be more of a tea man, he never turned down real foods or drinks.

"Haven't been to bed yet- don't tell Jim or Spock."

He poured them both a cup, handing Scotty one of them and motioning to the sugar and creamer he'd set out.

"Aren't you the one always telling the crew the importance of a good sleep schedule?"

"Yeah, and that's why I'm askin' you not to tell on me," he grinned.

"Can you not sleep?"

"No, not really. I've been goin' over that last accident in Engineering. I've written up a few training proposals, and wanted you to read through them and tell me which you think'll work best before I submit them."

"Have you been working on this all day?"

"Since my shift ended, yeah."

Scotty saw him take two tiny pills from a bottle on his desk and take them before rubbing his eyes.

"Sorry, headache. Ibuprofen. Been at this a little too long, I think."

"Why push yourself like this, then?"

He scanned the proposals, an interdisciplinary first aid course specific to Engineering and the various injuries and accidents that could happen, a triage proposal to better prepare medical staff for what to expect when an accident is called in, and new safety guidelines and equipment inspection schedules.

"Well, every second counts, you know that. The sooner we get this smoothed out, the better. It could be life or death, and I'm not about to play games there."

"You never do," Scotty grinned, picking up a stylus and making a few notes. "I like this so far. I hope you made a lot of coffee, because I have a few ideas, too."

"I hoped you would," McCoy grinned, and the two sat down to begin work.

🌹

"You called me, Doc?"

"Mr Sulu, perfect timing!"

Doctor McCoy was standing by a selection of plants, studying them intensely.

"The botany department sent these up. They're medicinal. But the labels got mixed up, and we don't really know what's what."

"That's unusual," Sulu grinned, looking down at the selection. "She's usually more organized when making deliveries."

He began to catalogue the plants, calling to mind their uses.

"Fever few, plantain... Several of these are for stopping bleeding."

"Yeah, that's what we're hoping for. We're training our medics to learn other ways to heal in the field."

"Good idea," Sulu nodded, fixing the lables.

"Thank you for the help," McCoy grinned. "Oh, Lieutenant Lyle brought another plant, but I'm not sure what it does. It was bigger than the others, so I set it in the office. Little bastard scratched me, too."

Sulu laughed, plucking a plantain leaf and handing it to him.

"Chew on that for a minute and put it on the cut, that will help."

He heard McCoy's thanks as he went into the office. He gasped. On the desk was a rare Andorian Passionflower- spiked where its Earth counterpart was not, and blue instead of purple. In place of a label there was a note, and he recognized the handwriting.

"Ben?"

"Surprise," McCoy said, stepping in. He had the chewed leaf against his finger. "We were asked not to tell you anything."

He opened the envelope. It was handwritten anniversary card. He smiled, warmth filling him.

"Happy anniversary, you two," McCoy said, patting him on the shoulder. "There's minutes on my computer for subspace communication. He's waiting for you to call."

"Thanks, Doc," he answered, wiping sudden tears from his eyes.

McCoy patted his back again before leaving him to his call.

🌹

"Doctor?"

"Mhm?"

"Why did you do it?"

McCoy looked at Chekov, who was eyeing wound on his arm with deep concern.

"Reflex," he lied, finishing ripping his uniform shirt into bandages. He turned his eyes away, focusing on tying off and tending the wound until the ion storm ended and they could contact the Enterprise.

"Captain Kirk is right. You are a terrible liar, sir."

He snorted, tying off his makeshift sling. He'd taken a rather severe cut from a spear from one of the inhabitants of this supposedly uninhabited planet. The spear had been aimed at Chekov, but he had managed to push the kid out of the way just in time.

"Captain Kirk can mind his own business."

"Doctor..."

McCoy sighed, leaning back against the cave wall. Chekov joined him, still looking at him with wide-eyed worry.

"You remind me of Joanna."

"Huh?"

"I did it because you remind me of Joanna."

"Who is Joanna?"

"My daughter. My whole world. I don't get to see her often, but she's my pride and joy."

"And I remind you of her?"

"Yeah. Can't explain it. It's probably because you're so young, or some misplaced guilt about not being there to protect JoJo that makes me want to look out for you instead that the psychologist really doesn't wanna think too much about."

He shrugged, closing his eyes.

"That, and I'm a doctor, and your senior officer. Not gonna let you get hurt if I can help it."

Running for their lives had worn him out, it seems. Chekov studied him for a moment before placing his head on his shoulder.

"You are very much the papa I always wanted. My grandmother, she told me stories about him. He was a good man. If he was... If I had known him longer, I would have liked for him to be like you, Doctor."

He felt a strong hand ruffle his hair.

"Get some rest, kid. I'll keep watch."

Chekov smiled, allowing his own eyes to close. He fell asleep wondering if McCoy would laugh or be angry that he had become, as the captain said, a "mama bear."

🌹

Spock stood beside Captain Kirk's hospital bed, arms folded behind his back. He had come to check on the progress of McCoy's serum on their friend. But, also, he was here to check on McCoy. Nyota had expressed worry over him that morning after visiting.

"You want a seat, Spock?"

He turned as the doctor entered the room, a cup of coffee in one hand and a PADD in the other.

"No, thank you, Doctor."

McCoy set the coffee aside, moving to the bed to compare the data on the PADD to the biobed readings. As Spock watched him, he began to really notice the state the doctor was in. His eyes were bloodshot, ringed in dark circles, his hair sticking at odd angles, as though he had run his fingers through it many times. He hadn't shaved, and was looking rather gaunt.

"When did you last sleep, Leonard?"

"Does it matter, Spock?"

"I think it would matter to the captain. And... I admit to a concern, as well."

"May miracles never cease," McCoy muttered, and they both knew what miracle he was praying for.

"Doctor, you must rest. The captain's status is unlikely to change in the time it would take for you to eat and sleep."

"I can't, Spock. Not right now."

"Why?"

"Because he needs me."

"He needs all of you, Leonard. Not a shell of yourself."

McCoy's shoulders sagged at that.

"I don't want to leave him," he admitted. "I promised I wouldn't leave him."

"You do not have to leave him. You could bring a cot into this room, perhaps. Shower in the en suite, and eat the meals Nyota has been bringing you."

"When I try to sleep, Spock, all I can see is him in that chamber. In that damn body bag in my medbay. It... It hurts, Spock. In a very human way, it hurts. It- this grief, it's like a wound, Spock."

"As you so often tell me, Leonard, you are a doctor. You treat wounds, better than most. You are healing the captain. The best way to heal that grief is to continue to do so. But if you damage yourself with overwork, you will not be able to care for him to the best of your abilities."

McCoy was silent for a moment before nodding.

"You're right... Thank you, Spock."

"It is... My pleasure, Leonard."

When he visited again that night, he found McCoy asleep on a cot not far from Kirk's bed, PADD still in hand. He had showered and shaved. The plate Nyota had sent him was now empty, and someone, presumably nurse Chapel, had covered him with the knitted blanket that he usually kept on the couch in his office.

Spock allowed himself to feel relieved, and quietly retreated, turning down the lights as he did so. The next morning, Kirk woke up.

🌹

"He may be a little disoriented when he wakes up," M'Benga told the assembled officers. "It was touch and go there, and we nearly lost him a few times. But I do believe he will make a full recovery."

"You are sure?" Chekov asked, his face pale. Sulu had his hand on his back for support.

"Yes. He is stable. Now all he needs is rest."

"Thank you," Kirk spoke up, gripping one of McCoy's hands from his place beside his bed. "Bones couldn't have been in better hands."

"You remind him of that when he wakes up," M'Benga laughed quietly, his calm manner helping ease the tension in the crowd. "You can talk to him now, too. Even if he doesn't hear you, it'll help him to have friendly voices around."

Scotty coughed to hide a relieved sniffle, and patted Kirk's shoulder amiably.

"Why don't you start, Captain?"

Kirk nodded, thinking.

"Bones, you know we all love you, right? So you've gotta come back to us. It's not the same without you here yelling at me."

"Indeed, Doctor. Your colorful metaphors are... Missed." Spock looked down the line of visitors expectantly.

"Da, and you promised to let us talk to Joanna next time she called you!" Chekov watched the sleeping man eagerly.

"Yeah, she and Demora are going to space camp together," Sulu pitched in. "If you don't wake up soon, who's gonna tell them how dangerous it is?"

Nyota laughed at that, and everyone (save Spock) grinned.

"Aye, Len. And you're gonna have to be the one to tell Jaylah what happened, you know," Scotty said. "Otherwise the lassie's likely to steal a ship and come all the way from Earth to make sure you aren't still hurt."

"What about you, Uhura?" Kirk asked. "You know how he likes to hear you sing. Why don't you sing one of his favorites."

"Good idea," she nodded, thinking. "I know just the one."

Soon the medbay was filled with her soft, comforting voice.

"I'll keep you safe..."

🌹 This was a long one! Thank you for reading! This was based on a prompt by @hlabounty96 ! I hope you enjoyed! 🌹

[1234-angelika]

Hospital Visits

an:Hey y'all! This ones coming out a little late, I meant it to be out yesterday but here we are. Still super excited for this week even though we're nearing the end. Still have some content coming out in the next few days for the series as a whole. This is the second installment in the Happily Ever After series for Luke. As always, enjoy!

words:1.2 k

warnings:canon-typical injury, mentions of canon-typical violence, hospital setting

summary:"There's a difference in living and living well. You can't have it all, all by yourself. Something's always missing, 'til you share it with someone else."-George Strait

masterpost|taglist|have an idea

Over the next two months, you often found yourself in the company of Luke and Roxy, who had both become good friends during that time.

It had become a routine to walk through the park whenever you were on your way home in hopes of running into the two of them. In those two months, it had happened just over a handful of times, but when it did, the three of you would hang out until the sun went down. You hadn't seen him for a couple of days, so you assumed he was just busy. He hadn't shared what he did for work. All you knew was that he was a former US Army Ranger.

You had started today bright and early. You were up and 'ate before the sun was even fully up. Being self-employed meant doing tasks that you wouldn't do in a typical 9-5 job. Monday meant payday so, after a hard gym session and a soothing shower, you set to work. First was balancing the books and determining final costs. Next was making the list of people to be paid, and last was sending out the payments. After all, was said and done, you felt like you could relax a little bit. You ordered yourself breakfast from your favourite restaurant and just chilled for the morning, with the occasional Instagram shot, of course.

Around noon, you began to get ready to actually do some work. You were filming another unboxing video, with packages leftover and some new from your PO box, and reviewing some clothing brands that had been sent to you. You got ready quickly but precisely, remembering that you were going to be on camera for hours and under the lights for just as long. After getting prepared, you set to work.

You worked for hours until finally, you took a short break to recharge. With some water, a snack and a bathroom break, you were ready to work again. As you set up for your next video, your phone rang. Startling you out of your concentrated state. The blocked number on the screen was enough to encourage you not to answer the phone but, your curiosity got the better of you.

"Hello?" You said, answering your phone.

"Is this Y/N Y/L/N?" Asked a cheery voice on the other end of the phone.

"Yeah. Sorry, who is this?"

"Darling, my name is Penelope Garcia. I work for the FBI—"

"FBI? Did I do something wrong?" You asked, panicked, trying to rack your brain for any reason the FBI would be calling you.

"—No, not at all. I understand that you know Supervisory Special Agent Luke Alvez," She answered in a soothing tone, helping you to calm down a bit but still not entirely sure why the FBI would call you, even if it was for Luke.

"I met him a few months ago but, I just know him as Luke. We usually hang out at the park with his dog…."

"Okay well, darling, he's been shot." She said, getting straight to the point.

"What?!"

"He was shot in the arm, he had surgery but the doctors said he will make a full recovery and he kept mumbling your name as he was coming out of the sedation. I'll send you the address of the hospital."

"Thanks Penelope…" You said, kind of numbly. Mostly just trying to absorb the information you had just been given.

"Good luck Y/N!"

You quickly changed out of the sample clothes and into a comfy outfit. Slipping on shoes hurriedly, you grabbed your purse and rushed out the door. After locking the door behind you, you went down to your car. Clicking on the location pin Penelope had sent you, you started up the GPS and set on the way to the hospital. You quickly got frustrated trying to find parking in the parking lot and decided to park on the street instead. You all but jogged into the hospital, looking for anyone who could provide you with an update. The head nurse just pointed you to an official-looking woman who was in the waiting room. You walked up to her and took some deep breaths before introducing yourself.

"Excuse me?"

"Yes?"

Pointing to the nurse's station, you said, "They told me you could give me an update on Luke Alvez."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Y/N Y/L/N, a friend of Lukes. Who are you?"

You didn't even finish your sentence before a look you couldn't quite make out made its way onto her face.

"I'm supervisory special agent Emily Prentiss. I'm Lukes boss, I can take you to him."

The two of you set off walking through the never-ending corridors. In the silence, questions just kept swarming your head. In an attempt to keep them at bay, you asked, "What happened to him?"

She turned, briefly looking at you before she said, "Officially, I can't say too much. In the course of apprehending our UnSub, he got shot. The bullet knicked his subclavian artery, which is basically the shoulder area. He'll have to stay at the hospital 3 days but the doctor said he will make a full recovery."

You knew you were the one who asked, and she was just answering your question, but, at that moment, you had never wanted to yell at someone more. Where was his partner—assuming he has one? How did this happen? You only noticed you arrived at his room when Emily stopped walking. She opened the door and led you into the room before walking back out. Leaving you alone, with a sleeping Luke, to wait. After a couple hours in the hospital and you began to get hungry. You were reaching out for the Jell-O on his tray table when a hand grabbed your wrist.

"Don't take the jell-o please," a groggy voice startled you the same way the hand had.

You turned to see if the voice had come from Luke, and to your surprise, you found his warm brown eyes looking back at you. Jumping up to hug him, you shrieked, "Luke!"

A little confused, he asked, "Y/N, when did you get here?"

"You kept muttering my name to the doctors when you were coming off of the anesthesia."

"Well, I've been thinking about you while I'm working."

"What about me?"

He took a deep breath, and you noticed his heart sped up as the monitor beeped faster.

"Y/N Y/L/N, will you go on a date with me?"

A smile blossomed on your cheeks, and a warmth spread throughout your body, and you said jokingly, "well, with you on your deathbed, how could I say no?"

taglist:@multixfandomwriter @myescapefromthislife

[megalony]

Teacher’s pet- Part 21

This is the latest part of my dad! Ben Hardy series, I’m planning one more part of this series and then a follow-on series. I hope you will all like it, thank you for the lovely feedback, comments are always appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie​ @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr​ @rogermeddow​ @radiob-l-a-hblah​ @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6​ @rogertaylors-lipgloss​ @sj-thefan​ @omgitsearly​ @luckytrashgooprebel​ @scarsout​ @deaky-with-a-c​ @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac​ @vousmemanqueez​ @jonesyaddiction​ @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms​ @saint-hardy​ @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls​ @mrsalwayswritex​ @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @crazylittlethingg​ @allauraleigh​ @ceres27

Series taglist: @im-an-adult-ish​​ @gwilymleeisbae​​ @k-k0129​​ @haileymorelikestupid​​ @glittrixvibe @youngpastafanmug​​ @ultraviolencezs​ @kdatthecastle​ @darlindolan​​

Series masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) teaches at the school Ben’s boys go to and they soon start a relationship. But they have their ups and downs with the problems Ben faces with his boys and how quickly the relationship progresses.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Carter told me she was pretty, I think he was being modest." A tentative, gentle smile pulled at the edges of Gwilym's lips as he stood just inside the doorway of the neonatal room.

The teacher ruffled his hand through his curls, brushing them from overlapping on his rounded glasses that were perched neatly on his nose. He slowly moved his hands into his jean pockets as he leaned his shoulder against the wall behind him. When he had seen Carter at school, the eldest boy had been talking about seeing his sister and he kept repeating how tiny and slightly weird-looking she was. But he did repeatedly tell Gwilym just how pretty his sister was, although Gwilym knew the little newborn was sweeter and prettier than he had first thought.

"Yeah... she doesn't get that from me." A lopsided smile came onto Ben's features but it was overshadowed by the exhaustion clearly shown on his face. His eyes were red-rimmed with dark circles underneath them and his pupils were bleak and strained.

Constantly switching between home and the hospital everyday and worrying too much to sleep was taking a toll on Ben and it was clear to anyone who looked at him. But he was trying and he could do little else right now.

"So, how's she doing?"

It felt nerve-wrecking for Gwilym to approach Ben, he didn't want to feel like he was intruding on personal space or being around when he wasn't wanted. But when he stood beside Ben, he could feel a wave of calm washing over them both when their eyes were both staring down at the newborn in front of them. The little girl was fast asleep with one of her mitten-clad hands pressed against her button nose like she had fallen asleep in the middle of scratching her nose.

Ben and Gwilym had known each other for years, they had been through a lot together and during the period where Ben had to go to court against Lucy, Gwilym had been there through it all.

But this was different.

Gwilym had never seen Ben in a situation where he was close to losing someone dear to him. He had never witnessed Ben where he was worried about turning up to the hospital and finding his partner had passed away or gotten worse whilst he wasn't there. And when Ben was here with (Y/n), he was still worrying that something was going to happen or go wrong and she was going to get worse. (Y/n) was part of Ben's world now, she meant everything to him just like his boys and now his daughter. Losing any one of them would crush Ben to pieces and he didn't like how close he had come so far to losing (Y/n).

"She's doing great, another week or so and I can take her home." Ben leaned his hip against the incubator as he stared down adoringly at his little girl. He was desperate to get her home and out of this incubator so she could be cuddled and fed and washed and dressed properly. He wanted her to sleep in her cot and be surrounded by her family and just held and nutured rather than being kept cooped up in here like she was still in the womb waiting to be born.

But at the same time, Ben didn't want to take her home if (Y/n) wasn't going to be there with him. He couldn't look after a newborn as well as three young boys on his own. And if Ben did take her home without (Y/n), he would be doing everything without her, (Y/n) wouldn't be there to put their daughter in her cot for the first time. She wouldn't be there to wash her or dress her or get her up during the night. She would miss out on everything and Ben didn't want to do any of this on his own, he'd done that with all his boys, it had to be different with his daughter.

"It... it doesn't feel like a week since she was born, you know? It's like, two hours ago I was holding (Y/n) and she was born. A whole week and (Y/n) hasn't even seen her yet."

It hurt and scared Ben to think that it had been seven days since his daughter had been born. Seven whole days and she and (Y/n) were still cooped up in the hospital, when he had the boys three days was the longest they had been in hospital before coming home. And (Y/n) hadn't even set eyes on her baby yet, nor did they have a name or even a birth certificate for her. It was like time inside the hospital had completely stopped but when Ben left, time raced past him without his consent.

"I know, it barely feels like a year since you were both starting to go out together. Why don't we go visit (Y/n), I haven't seen her yet." Gwilym rested his hand on Ben's shoulder, his eyes lingering on the newborn in front of him before he looked at Ben.

When (Y/n) went into labour, the last time Gwilym had seen her was when he helped her get into the car and whispered that she would be fine. Since then he hadn't visited (Y/n), he still had to go to work and with how ill she had been, he didn't want to intrude. (Y/n) needed her family around her and as much as Gwilym thought of her as his family, he wasn't immediate family and therefore decided it was better to simply get updates from Ben. But it had been a week now and Gwilym wanted to see her and see how she was.

Ben took a deep breath before he nodded in agreement. He had held his daughter this morning and spent the morning here with her, it was about time he went down to see (Y/n).

Moving his hand, Ben slipped his hand into the incubator and gently brushed his finger against his girl's cheek, smiling down at her before he and Gwilym turned and left the room of sleeping newborns.

A comfortable silence enveloped the pair as they walked down the halls to reach (Y/n)'s ward, but a look of fright took over Ben's face when he looked towards (Y/n)'s room. Doctor Mills was stood outside her room with another doctor that Ben didn't recognise. The doctor was never normally here at this time, for the past few days he visited (Y/n) early in the morning and later on in the afternoon and if he didn't visit then it was just a nurse. No one should be here right now.

"Doctor Mills, is everything okay?" Ben's voice was packed with nerves but there was a sense of apprehension in his voice. He didn't know what the doctor was going to say or if anything was wrong with (Y/n) and Ben couldn't take any more bad news or set backs right now.

When they approached the room, Ben leaned to try and look into (Y/n)'s room and catch a glimpse of her but all he could manage to see was two nurses in the room with her. If they were in there with (Y/n) and there were two doctors talking about her outside, something was clearly going on.

"Ben, good I was just about to call you."

"Is she okay?" The panic was clear in Ben's voice but there was anger in his eyes. (Y/n) had been through enough, Ben didn't know how much more she could take.

"I came to check on her this morning and she's improved, we've been running tests and (Y/n)'s lungs have improved enough for her to breathe on her own without the ventilator. We're about to take her off the ventilator now, I was going to call so you could be here when we do that."

Doctor Mills had told Ben yesterday that (Y/n) seemed to be getting stronger but they couldn't take her off the sedatives because she was still weak and would panic about the ventilator. But to know they were going to try and get her to breathe on her own brought tears to Ben's eyes because it meant she was actually recovering. Once she could breathe on her own she should start to eat and drink and get better enough to go home if the sepsis didn't develop any worse.

"You- you mean it? What about the sepsis?"

"Her infection has cleared up and the sepsis is finally starting to receed as well. We have to keep her on antibiotics for another week or so just to be on the safe side and it will take a few weeks for her to fully recover. But if all goes well, she won't have to be in hospital for much longer."

Gwilym reached over and patted Ben's shoulder when he saw the tears forming in his friend's eyes. Ben had been so deaperate to hear news like this but he didn't think it would ever come. (Y/n) still didn't look well and none of the doctors could give Ben an answer as to if she might recover soon or if she was getting worse or not. To finally be told that (Y/n) was starting to get better and her recovery was now going to start, made Ben elated because he could finally stop worrying that he was getting close to losing her.

"Thank you." Ben ran his fingers through his hair, pulling at the strands as he tried to catch his own breath. He couldn't believe it, (Y/n) would be able to talk and be awake and look at him properly in a couple of hours instead of being sedated every single day.

"I took her off the sedatives this morning so she will be awake and responsive when we remove the ventilator but I think you should be in the room to keep her calm so we can remove the tube and check her vitals. There is a chance she won't respond or breathe very well without the ventilator so we have to see how it goes."

"She'll be fine, she's a fighter." Gwilym spoke quietly to Ben, smiling encouragingly to him before he moved to stand by the window. There couldn't be too many people in the room and Gwilym knew he wouldn't be of much use but he didn't want to go home, he had to know how (Y/n) got on. And if he stayed out here then at least he could watch the situation and possibly talk to (Y/n) if everything went okay.

Ben nodded with a fearful smile before he headed into the room when Doctor Mills motioned for him to go first.

The moment Ben entered the room, his eyes locked with (Y/n)'s and it was as if someone had struck a match up in his heart. He could feel his body tensing and growing hotter as his heart started to hammer away in his chest. (Y/n)'s eyes were full of so many emotions, there was surprise, fear, pain but there was such a sparkle in her tired eyes that made Ben smile. He couldn't remember the last time he looked into her eyes.

"Baby, oh baby you're awake." Ben breathed through his words and when he stood beside (Y/n) he could feel her hand immediately reaching out for his. He interlocked their fingers together and brushed his free hand through her hair slowly and methodically to try and calm her down.

He could see the panic in her eyes, it was clear she hadn't been conscious for very long and she was typically going to be scared and confused. She didn't know how long she had been sedated for or what was happening and the fact that there was a tube stuck down her throat was clearly scaring the living daylights out of her. Ben had to calm her down so that they could help her and remove the tube so she could breathe on her own.

"Shh, you're okay, baby everything's gonna be just fine. The doctor's here to help you."

"Okay (Y/n), we understand this is confusing and worrying for you but you are doing very well. This tube is to help you breathe but I can remove it now, it's going to be uncomfortable but please try and stay still, it will only take a few seconds."

Ben kept running his fingers through (Y/n)'s hair before he bent over more so he could be closer to her. He could feel her hand tensing and holding his hand tighter and her eyes were starting to water. Ben hated how panicked and frail she looked because she didn't understand what was going on but she was doing well not to panic or sob or even lash out from confusion and pain.

"Right, let's turn the ventilator off." Doctor Mills looked to the nurse behind him who nodded before turning off the machine which would give them chance to see if (Y/n) was still able to breathe first. Even with the tube down her throat.

The exact moment the oxygen stopped pushing into her lungs, it was as if (Y/n) had been given an electric shock. Her chest jolted before her lungs started to work but it was distressing.

(Y/n) could feel the tube down her throat, every time her muscles constricted or tightened they pressed on the tube and each time it sent a shock through her system. She felt like she was choking and being suffocated even though she could breathe around the tube. All (Y/n) wanted to do was either to pass out or press a magic button and have everything go back to the way that it should be. This wasn't how things were meant to work out.

"(Y/n), I'm going to remove the tube now, just try and hold still for me."

Doctor Mills locked eyes with Ben before he moved to unclip the tube and when he started to remove it Ben moved his hands to gently push (Y/n)'s shoulders and chest back onto the bed. She couldn't try and sit up or bend her neck whilst the tube was being removed even though it was clearly hurting and scaring her. The gagging sounds that (Y/n) made sent Ben's stomach reeling and the moment the tube was free a strangled sound left her lips before she started to cough.

She no longer had the feeling of air being forced into her chest, she was back to breathing on her own and her throat felt dry and scratched.

Doctor Mills moved the small piece of plastic in (Y/n)'s lips that kept the tube stable in her mouth and her jaw clearly hurt the moment she tried to move it and press her lips together.

"Well done, it's going to hurt for a few minutes but just try and breathe normally, I'm going to check your lungs and if all your vitals seem okay we can leave you and Ben alone for a little while." Doctor Mills pressed his stethoscope to (Y/n)'s chest to listen to her lungs as she tried to take deep breaths. "Good, you're lungs are holding up enough that I don't even think you need any extra oxygen. I'll come back and check on you in a little while, if you need anything just press the button."

The moment the doctor and nurses left the room, Ben leaned down and pressed his lips to the top of (Y/n)'s head.

There had been a small part of him that worried that (Y/n)'s lungs would give out or not be strong enough yet after one collapsed and the sepsis had taken a big toll on her. But to see her breathing on her own and actually awake and recovering like this made Ben's heart soar.

"Thank fuck... baby you didn't half scare me back then. I thought I was gonna lose you."

Ben crouched down beside the bed, his hand smoothing over her cheek as his other arm moved to rest over her stomach. He was desperate to cling to her, to pick her up and hug her and hold her to his chest like he wanted to fit her into his heart. But he couldn't do that just yet, she had only just woken up and was still in bad shape.

He didn't bother to wipe away the tears of relief falling from his eyes that moved to watch (Y/n)'s lips when she mumbled something that he couldn't make out.

"What, baby?"

"E-Ella... where's Ella?" (Y/n)'s voice was hoarse and very quiet like she had been crying rather than having not used her voice for almost five days now. But Ben heard and worked out what she was saying and after a brief second, realisation hit him.

She wanted to call their daughter Ella.

"She's in the neonatal unit, oh baby she's beautiful... they let me hold her, she's only four pounds. You can see her soon, and the boys are so fucking desperate to come see you. I love you so much, please don't scare me like that again."

Ben couldn't waste anymore time, he moved before his mind could comprehend what he was doing and he pressed his lips to hers. He could feel that (Y/n)'s lips were slightly chapped like he expected but when her hand moved to cup his cheek he nearly burst out crying. Nothing compared to how nearly losing (Y/n) made him feel, not even the way he felt when Lucy broke his heart and his mind. He needed (Y/n) more than he ever thought he would and that scared him more than anything.

He couldn't let her go, he loved her far too much.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Boys, remember what we said?" Ben ran his hand over James' hair, ruffling the strands as his eyes darted between his boys.

Carter was switching between bouncing off the walls with excitement and scratching his hands from anxiety. He was finally able to see (Y/n) after just over a week without her and that made his adrenaline go sky high but at the same time, he knew that she wasn't well and that made him anxious in case she really didn't look well when he saw her.

James was holding Ben's free hand swinging their hands between them as he looked around the halls, having rarely been into a hospital. He just wanted to go and see (Y/n). And Finn was perched on Ben's hip, nervous about being in a hospital but excited because he had missed (Y/n) more than anyone thought he would over this past week. Every day he had asked Ben if she was okay and when he would see her again.

"Yep, mum is still poorly so we can't stay long in case she gets tired and not to be upset if she doesn't look well." Carter's voice was hyper and he held his head up to show and prove that he had been listening and had done well to remember what Ben had said.

"We can give mum a hug but we have to be careful." James added quietly, looking up at Ben when they all stopped in front of the room he guessed was (Y/n)'s.

"Alright, let's go see her." Ben let go of James' hand so he could open the door before both Carter and James nudged him out the way and barged passed so they could get to (Y/n).

"Mum!"

(Y/n) felt her breath hitching in her throat when she saw all four of her boys coming into the room. She moved her arms out but she wasn't quite ready for the impact of Carter and James who both went to one of her sides before launching themselves at her. Admittedly, James was more cautious, he wrapped his arms loosely around her middle and huddled under her arm. He rested his head on her shoulder, gazing up at her with a smile.

Whereas Carter was a bit more heavy handed, wrapping one arm around her neck and the other around her middle before he buried his face into her neck, clinging to her like he thought she was going to disappear.

"Boys! Be careful with your mum." Ben scolded, shaking his head at them with raised brows. He had told them two minutes ago to be careful and then they run in and shake her and attach to her like a leech. (Y/n) was breathing on her own now but her lungs were still weak and she was going to have a long recovery. The boys couldn't be rough with her no matter how much they had missed her.

"We missed you."

(Y/n) could feel tears welling up in her eyes when James spoke, looking up at her like she was the only thing in the world worth looking at; he definitely took after Ben. She smoothed down his hair before pressing a kiss to his temple. Even though she had been mostly sedated during the last few days, it had still felt weird when she woke not to have the boys surrounding her.

"When are you coming home? It's not right without you." Carter pulled back enough so that he could climb up onto the bed and sit as close to (Y/n)'s side as he could. Grabbing her arm and making sure it was still wrapped around his side so he could still be close to her. Even though they had just moved house Carter was starting to think of it as his home but he couldn't fully do that without (Y/n) there. Nowhere was going to be right if she wasn't there with them and he wanted her back home now.

"I should be able to come home in a few days, honey. It won't be much longer I promise." (Y/n) looked between Carter and Ben who sat down on the end of the bed with Finn on his lap.

(Y/n) didn't feel great, yesterday it had taken a few hours for her to fully wake up and feel able to talk and breathe normally. And the painkillers and antibiotics were making her drowsy, doctor Mills said she would be moving very slow, her chest was going to hurt and her breathing would be uneven for a while. And she had to get back into eating properly since she had been on nutrients and drips for a week.

When they knew for sure that her sepsis had gone and she had no other immediate issues she would be able to recover at home with her family which is what they all wanted.

"Is your tummy better now?" Finn slowly crawled from Ben's lap and moved up near James so he could be closer to (Y/n). He reached out and slowly patted her stomach and (Y/n) could see the intrigue in his eyes. The last time Finn had seen her he remembered her stomach being very round, now it was almost back to how it used to look.

The easiest way for Ben to explain it to Finn was to say that the baby was born but (Y/n) wasn't very well, she had a poorly stomach and a bad chest and Finn seemed to understand that.

"A lot better now, sweetheart, have you seen your sister yet?"

"Baby sister is very pretty, daddy said she looks like you."

(Y/n) drifted her eyes from Finn up to Ben as a smile formed on her lips. She knew Ben had held Ella the other day and this morning since (Y/n) was feeling better she had managed to see and hold Ella for the first time. The picture Ben had taken of his girls was one that he was definitely going to get printed because so far, it was the only good memory of this event.

The first week of Ella's life had been traumatic and distressing for them all, now it could start to be wonderful like it should be.

[desiree-harding]

mayhaps a snippet of reJEANcy Lup and Barry when they were courting and Before Things Went to Shit?

Is this ask like at least a year old? Yes. Am I sorry? Very.  Better late than never??? 😂 Please ignore the fact that the first half of this conversation is missing they’re courting they’re walking in a park in London, that’s all you have to know it’s fine don’t question it.  This is part of my ReJEANcy Au (it’s like jane austen but with taz)

***** “And you have been sent here to marry,” he said. Lup felt her face grow warm at the words, and a bitterness settle in her heart. For though the material circumstances of her situation never escaped her, they had felt of late to be more and more pressing in upon her, confining and stifling her at every step. 

“ I am one and twenty years of age,” she replied, bitterly. “I am a spinster in the making, in their eyes. And my brother, with the decline of our property, will scarcely be able to afford me, in a number of years.” Her chest clenched at the thought of it, her and Taako, her brother ragged and tired even just as a youth, and Lup a burden on him he could not afford, and would not part with.

“Spinsterhood is a harsh fate to have thrust upon you at so young an age.” And Barry’s voice drew her back to the present, the kindness and warmth in it, even with the weight of the subject they were discussing, and it did not escape Lup that such a subject coming from him could only mean one thing, and while her heart wished dearly for it, it frightened her. To be taken from Taako by matrimony would only be a fate slightly less terrible than to be a weight around his neck as their years advanced. 

And yet, Lup had enjoyed such company with Barry in London as she had never before experienced in her life. To imagine that he could walk out of this conversation, to a place where Lup could not follow, and perhaps that upon her journey home, she would not ever see him again, and perhaps exchange only careful letters from afar, as polite acquaintances… surely there could be no joy in that either.

“If I could, I would make my fortune as you do,” she said, wistfully. “Make discoveries that would bear my name for generations to come.”

Mister Bluejeans chuckled.

“There is little money to be made in discovering,” he said wryly. 

“Even so. As it is I am expected to prattle along until I keep house for whichever man deigns to make me an offer.” The forwardness of her words practically made Lup tremble. The distance between her and Barry seemed incredibly vast, and she longed, for a terrible moment, to be more openly his sweetheart, for though everyone in Town seemed to sense their connection, she could not link her arm with his and feel the strength and weight of him beside her, and had to make do with the faint energy of one who is close but yet not close enough to touch. She abruptly missed their first dance, and wished, foolishly, to have taken better advantage of the opportunity to touch him, when she had it.

 “It is a disheartening way to live,” she said, for the truth in it, and desperate, perhaps for comfort, and perhaps for clever mister Bluejeans to read between the lines, to see that he was one of those who could release her from the utter precarity of her circumstances, and more happily, perhaps, than any other soul on earth.

For truly, with him, she thought that perhaps she could be happy. That they could have a companionship in intellect as well as in affection, one that she could hardly have hoped for upon her arrival to London, nearly five months ago now.

“You speak of yourself very meanly, Miss Taaco,” Barry  responded, after a time, and Lup laughed with no humor.

“I speak the truth, meanly or no,” she said. She could not bring herself to brighten her words, the depth of her anxiety dragging her out of levity’s reach.

At this the gentleman paused a long moment, and the sound of birds’ wings and trills, and the footfalls of himself and herself along the path were all that she heard for a long moment. Until he spoke again,

“It would be a foolish person,” he said, “who would know you more than an hour and consider you fit only to keep  house.” He spoke in that stilted way that Lup had come to know well, the words coming slow and soft and in such a manner that she could hardly help but understand, in her deepest heart, that his intention was to tell the absolute truth, as he understood it, without alteration.

“You carry as sharp a wit as any of my colleagues,” he continued, “and as great a natural aptitude for the scientific arts, that you have consistently been a most stimulating conversational partner, these several weeks, without the benefit of the extensive education many others enjoy.” Lup flushed, half in shame at his oblique reference to her lack of fortune and circumstance, her greatest failure in the eyes of Society, and her greatest blemish. But the other half of it was no doubt in the sincerest throes of flattery, that he should speak of her so. 

Mister Bluejeans, she knew now, was not one to embellish needlessly, in his kindness to others. Though as good and generous a man as any she had known, Lup could not imagine that his words were meant only to flatter her unduly. Such counterfeit would not suit Barry, not in any reality she could imagine. 

“There is no lady in all my acquaintance,” he said, soft, “whose mind I admire more. It is a great injustice indeed, that the whole of society should underestimate you, when you are more than worthy of their highest esteem.”

Lup almost could feel tears coming to her eye at his words.

“Mister Bluejeans,” she said, her voice weak, “You are surely too kind.”

“I am exactly as kind as you deserve,” he answered, though Lup thought she could hear perhaps the barest tremor in his voice with the words. And indeed, Lup had hardly ever heard him speak in so forward a manner before, without the barest opportunity for misinterpretation to be found. He was always plain of speech, but never had Lup been on the receiving end of such unmitigated compliments. 

The day was fine, and the sun was shining down upon them, and the season would be over soon, and Lup, for perhaps the first time, allowed in herself a kind of happiness to blossom such as she had never thought she would feel in her life. For this was what it must be like, she thought, to be in love, and she was now certain, loved in return. For surely Barry must love her, with the time that he chose to spend by her side, and with his words, seemingly designed to cut her to the quick and lay her bare. She was certain he could see all of her heart stretched out before him, and she waited to see how he would act upon the information written upon it. 

“Perhaps it need not be necessary,” he said, after another several minutes of silence, “that you be forced into one circumstance or another.” Lup’s heart quickened in her chest, and she could scarcely believe her ears. “Perhaps marriage need not be… so stifling as you imagine it, if your husband were of a mind to pay sufficient respect to your intellectual capabilities alongside the pleasure of your company.”

Lup could hardly breathe. 

“I do not think I should find it stifling at all, mister Bluejeans,” she said, breathless, desperate, “if that were the case.” She swallowed, and wondered how much further she dared go. 

“In fact,” she pushed, “I think I should like that very much.”

And at that, Lup seemed to feel a tension roll off of his shoulders, by proxy, and saw, from the corner of her eye, an almost resolute nod, and he seemed inclined to speak no more, while Lup kept her pace silently beside him, and choked on her own anticipation. 

For surely, his words were as good as a proposal, in everything but name? What else could he be alluding to, with such talk, but a marriage between the two of them? And in a matter of minutes Lup’s life had turned on a dime, and suddenly all of her terror and discomfort and pain seemed they could vanish at a simple word from mister Bluejeans’ lips- 

If only he would ask her. 

But he spoke no more, just then, and Lup’s heart, as they took their turn around the park, slowly returned to a more sedate pace to match her breaths and her steps, and they spent a good fifteen minutes in a not-uncomfortable silence. 

Which, if his words had not before, only sealed Lup’s heart further in its conviction toward the man beside her. 

Here was someone, she thought, who must care for her, to have sought her out. Who must surely understand how perfectly suited he was to her desires for her own future and for companionship in marriage. With whom she could speak and feel at ease, and more, with whom she could be silent and feel no pressure to chatter needlessly and fill the air. 

He was perfect, Lup thought, practically sick with it, and she could not imagine another day without him. 

After a time, their ramble came to an end, and mister Bluejeans turned, as Lup saw the Captain catching up to them, from down the path, where he had been walking a good quarter-mile behind. 

“Miss Taaco,” Barry said, his blue eyes warm behind his spectacles, and weighty, so that Lup hung upon his every word. “Do you think the good captain would permit me to call upon you tomorrow, at his home?”

And Barry had already called to the Captain’s home many times. There could be but one reason why he was asking, as Captain Davenport was the closest thing Lup had to a guardian, and it could not have escaped Barry’s notice that while he had no right to deny any suitor Lup’s hand, Barry could ask for permission to see her, and it would be nearly the same. 

Her heart ached with his gallantry.

“Mister Bluejeans,” she breathed. “The Captain has always said that I am free to extend his invitation to any visitors I please, while I am here in Town.” Yes, he would be happy to have you. “Plus,” she added, “he considers you a friend. I am sure that he would be more than happy to see you call.” He will approve. 

Barry smiled, then, and it nearly killed her, and with a bow, and the barest brush of his lips to the back of her gloved hand, he bid her a farewell until tomorrow, and turned, and left the park, just as the Captain made his way to stand beside her. 

“That’s sorted, then?” he asked, in his brusque way. Lup thought she could feel her hand tingling through her glove, still warm from where Barry’s lips brushed against it. 

“He wishes to call upon the house  tomorrow,” she said faintly, still staring, quite shamelessly, at his retreating form. 

The captain’s hand came up to rest upon her shoulder, and he gave her something of a squeeze and an awkward pat. 

“Congratulations, then, lass,” he said. “I daresay you could not have done any better.” 

And Lup thought that she quite agreed. 

[satan-chillin]

Spirited Away

Wei Ying, abandoned and homeless in the middle of a snowstorm, is spirited away by an entity that must have been the White Ghost.

He's brought home.

(Or WenZhou adopts WWX. The Fic.)

Also available in Ao3

❆❆❆

Wei Ying exhaled hotly against the cusp of his palms and shivered.

The snow had raged for days without letting up, and the cold did nothing on the itchy scabs of dog bites on his arms and the hunger squeezing his stomach. Wei Ying hunched into himself further. This would pass, though whether it was the snowstorm or the pain of his wounds or the hunger, he couldn’t say.

Carefully, he broke half of the molded baozi and then broke the half again into two; this way, the baozi would last him another three days. Hopefully, the remaining pieces wouldn’t be spoiled by then.

He was thirsty after a single bite that it took him to eat. Nothing filling, as usual, but it would be enough for now and something that sleep could improve through the night. The upside of having a snowstorm was the lack of nocturnal predators also hunting for food, therefore less to worry about whether he’d wake up mauled on the sidewalk. Curling himself into a ball in order to preserve what little body heat that he could, he prepared for sleep. He tended to sleep easier these days, tired and worn out as he was even without moving about much.

Wei Ying must have fallen asleep immediately that night and was quickly lulled into a dream because the next thing he knew, he could make out a vague shape of someone approaching him.

White. White as the storm of snow. Long white hair and robes billowed in the harsh wind. A ghost, Wei Ying thought immediately. He had heard of tales of a white ghost around the town, one that would eat unruly children who strayed out of their beds late at night. He used to believe that the white ghost had yet to find him, though now that he was found, oddly enough, he was not afraid.

Not when a pale hand reached for him, tender atop his head. Blearily, Wei Ying stared at the face and couldn’t seem to focus on anything else aside from the sudden warmth coursing from his head to toe. If the White Ghost would eat him, he wouldn’t mind as long as he got to be this warm forever.

“Sleep, little one,” came from a voice that was seemingly carried by the wind. “I’ll bring you home.”

Home. Wei Ying would love to go home.

❆❆❆

Wei Ying woke on an actual bed and with a man hovering over him by the bedside.

“You’re awake,” said the stranger with a tentative smile. He made no move to come closer, looking unsure the longer Wei Ying stared at him, the silence spanning between them. “I brought food.”

Wei Ying did not shy away from the tray laid before him. He took a bite out of the bread and drank deeply from the cup of tea. He almost choked if not for the man’s sudden alarm, gently patting his back and encouraging him to eat slowly. He reached for the soup before Wei Ying could, taking a spoonful and blowing before feeding it to him. Wei Ying obediently opened his mouth, delighted at the right temperature of the soup.

By the third spoonful, the man sheepishly brought down the spoon, murmured an apology, and asked him if he’d rather eat by himself. Wei Ying did not mind one bit, did not understand what the apology was for, and boldly requested to be helped with the soup. Something shifted on the man’s expression, his previous smile turning soft and sure when he assisted Wei Ying with the food, occasionally pausing to let him drink the tea or take a bite of the bread first.

“I’d get you more, but maybe later, once your stomach settles,” the man said. “It’ll hurt if you suddenly eat too much.”

Wei Ying remembered the baozi he kept under his robes, though upon touching his clothes he discovered that they were no longer the dirty ones he had slept in for as long as he could recall. The one he was wearing felt nice and soft and clean, something new and in the color of light blue with long sleeves that hid the bite marks on his forearms. He checked on his scabbing wounds and stared at them in wonder seeing as they were almost gone.

“A good friend of mine is a healer. He came by last week to take a look at you,” the man told him. “And Lao Wen made sure to apply medicine on them every day.”

Wei Ying did not know this Lao Wen—and what did he say? “Last week?” he asked, voice hoarse from sore throat. Wordlessly, the man handed him a cup of lukewarm water.

“What do you remember?”

“Snow,” Wei Ying answered. “Lots of it.” He frowned to himself, mind clicking on a significant memory. “The White Ghost came for me last night.”

The man blinked, a hint of amusement in his raised brows. “White Ghost?”

Wei Ying nodded eagerly. “It must be him because of his white hair. He also wears white. They say he eats unruly children who don’t return home in time.”

That earned him a snort, a grin lighting up the man’s face. He had a pleasant face, Wei Ying realized. “Ah, Lao Wen doesn’t eat unruly children, I assure you, not when he can be unruly as a child himself,” he said with a shake of his head. “He brought you here roughly three weeks ago. From what I understand, it was a long journey back from where he picked you up to here, and you had a fever during the trip.” He glanced at Wei Ying’s thin wrists peeking from his sleeves. “Ten days later, he arrived home with you.”

Oh. So this was the home the White Ghost was pertaining to. Wei Ying’s eyes darted around the room. It wasn’t cold here despite the snow he could see still falling outside the window that painted a night sky, and there was food.

“You’re in the Four Seasons Manor,” the man said as if reading Wei Ying’s mind. “Forgive my manners, my name is Zhou Zishu. Later, you’ll meet Lao Wen. What do I call you?”

“Wei Ying. My name is Wei Ying.” Wei Ying liked Zhou Zishu already for the sole reason that he did not ask where his parents were; he honestly had no idea. “Can I live here?”

“Of course,” Zhou Zishu said without hesitation, though his palm hovered uncertainly over Wei Ying’s head as if silently asking for permission. Wei Ying beamed up at him, inching closer to his side that had Zhou Zishu smiling. “This can be your home, Wei Ying, if you want.”

“I do!” It wasn’t as if Wei Ying had anywhere else to go, and it must have shown in his face judging from the flicker of Zhou Zishu’s expression. “I will help around, I promise!”

Zhou Zishu tsked amusedly. “Don’t make that promise when you haven’t seen the entire place yet.” He stood. “It’s better if you go back to rest, but I won’t stop you if you want to stretch your legs.”

Wei Ying felt the length of time he spent lying down on the bed through shaky knees, and Zhou Zishu was instantly there to carry him instead in his arms. Wei Ying automatically circled his neck, hooking his chin on Zhou Zishu’s shoulder.

“Right. You can stretch your legs later. I’ll carry you for now. Is that alright?” Zhou Zishu asked him. “If you fell asleep, then I’ll bring you back here.”

Wei Ying gave him an affirmative, liking the sound of that. Zhou Zishu swaddled him with a thick blue robe that was twice Wei Ying’s size before bringing him outdoors where the breeze swept the last dredges of snow. A firm hand stroked Wei Ying’s back comfortingly as they took a sedate trip around the manor. Zhou Zishu explained to him which was which, whose room was whose, pointing at specific locations. Later, he would let Wei Ying pick out his own room.

Wei Ying could not pinpoint what hour it was in the evening. It was quiet enough that he’d think only Zhou Zishu originally lived there; he did mention that he had some disciples and that if Wei Ying wanted he could join them once he recovered.

“But I already recovered,” he protested. “I can join them tomorrow.” He looking forward to meeting other children that he couldn’t wait to play and train with them.

“Not yet, brat. Give it another three days at least.”

Wei Ying pouted. “A-niang said my golden core is strong so I heal quick.”

“Golden core?” Zhou Zishu paused, thoughtful. “Your parents are cultivators?”

Wei Ying nodded. “They left for a night-hunt. They never came back.”

A frown creased Zhou Zishu’s forehead before a sigh escaped him. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure they were good people.”

His parents were never called ‘good’ by anyone who took one glance at Wei Ying, who was a homeless boy anyone would take pity in and promptly forgot once they crossed over to the next street.

“Do you want to be a cultivator like them someday?” Zhou Zishu asked.

“Maybe,” Wei Ying muttered. “I don’t know. Are you also a cultivator?”

“No. The Four Seasons Sect is not a cultivation sect. Not that kind of cultivation, at least. Though I can teach you its foundations: martial arts and the way of the sword, and help you develop your own body and spirit in order to prepare both for cultivation.” Zhou Zishu peered at him. “How about that?”

If Wei Ying couldn’t learn cultivation here, then that meant he would have to eventually leave and learn somewhere. Wei Ying did not want to, not so soon. His hold tightened, though Zhou Zishu hardly minded.

“Don’t overthink. You’re young, it won’t happen for years,” Zhou Zishu reminded him. “I’m a strict teacher, Wei Ying. I won’t deem you ready unless I say so.”

“Okay,” Wei Ying whispered elatedly. He would be a good student… or not if it meant staying here longer.

“And there’s also Lao Wen. He also teaches here.”

Wei Ying blinked at Zhou Zishu. “The White Ghost?”

“White Ghost doesn’t sound bad as far as titles go.”

There was a new voice from behind. The same white robes and the same flowing white hair from Wei Ying’s dreamlike memory. Like a floating ghost, he was quiet when he approached them, and Wei Ying stared at how the faint moonlight was caught at the White Ghost’s head.

The White Ghost pursed his lips at Zhou Zishu. “Isn’t it past bedtime for sightseeing?” At Wei Ying, he smiled fondly. “How are you, little one?”

“I’m good!” Wei Ying said, perhaps with a cheer that the White Ghost did not expect. “A-Shu toured me around the manor.”

“ A-Shu?” Delightfully, he addressed Zhou Zishu, “I see you already endeared yourself to the child you thought I kidnapped.”

“You—Do you even know his name before you picked him up?” Zhou Zishu demanded. He sighed exasperatedly at the shrug he received in return and the conspiratorial smirk the White Ghost shared with Wei Ying. “This is Wei Ying, Lao Wen. Wei Ying, that man you called the White Ghost is Wen Kexing, but he’s known as Lao Wen.”

“Wei Ying,” the White Ghost—Wen Kexing—Lao Wen—tested his name. “You have a good name, little one.” Delicately, he tucked a stray lock of Wei Ying’s hair behind his ear. “You can call me Lao Wen.”

“But you don’t look old,” Wei Ying pointed out. “Can I call you A-Xing?”

Wen Kexing’s laugh rang like a chime in the silence of the evening. “This little one is not shy at all.” He grinned. “I think we’ll get along really well.”

“He has a name,” Zhou Zishu interrupted. “And don’t encourage him to be troublesome!” he reprimanded. “He’s going to be a promising student of mine.”

“Aiyah, A-Xu, can’t he be both? Besides, he’ll be my student too, and I’ll teach him the ways of a proper gentry.” Wen Kexing winked at Wei Ying. “Would you like that, little one?”

Wei Ying believed he would. His father had mentioned studying before, though his mother would rather he play instead, so he never had the chance to actually sit down and learn, either alone with his father as his tutor or with other children.

He wondered for a moment whether this was also a dream. The last time he closed his eyes to sleep, he was alone outside the cold, freezing and starving and with no one to call; then he woke up somewhere warm and big and comfortable with two nice people, and more he’d meet tomorrow.

A part of him thought he might have been truly eaten by the White Ghost that night, though if he was, it would not be A-Shu carrying him but his quiet father who preferred smiling that private smile of his than speaking, and the one with the nice-looking face and draped in all white would not be A-Xing but his mother from his vague memories of her.

Maybe someday he’d see clearer faces of his parents, but not anytime soon when he had just committed A-Shu and A-Xing’s faces to memory and when Wei Ying started to picture himself growing familiar with them instead.

Wei Ying grinned excitedly at what tomorrow would bring. “I’d like that.”

[obliviouspoptart]

ngl, the more i watch house, the more i hate how everyone treats him

not in the “he’s an asshole, treat him like an asshole” way bc that’s deserved and honestly why i love him as a character

but everything else. he uses vicodin bc he has constant chronic pain that will never fade and never get better. everyone says he should be able to live life without medication and be fine! let’s force him into widthdrawals because we’ll feel better about a chronic pain patient not having to “rely” on medicine to live!

bc fucking personally, as a chronic pain patient, fuck you. do i use opioids to live a normal life? no, and i feel very lucky that all i have to do is slowly destroy my liver with nsaids to survive bc that’s a more “acceptable” medicine and even still some people will tell me “yoga” or “eating healthy” or fucking “healing crystals” will cure my arthritis that will never ever go away. if those things work for you, i am so happy, i wish you all the best and hope it keeps working for you, but it doesn’t work for me. and other medicine can’t work for house. and i am always very mad that every single able-bodied person in this show thinks his need of the medicine is a problem that needs to be fixed bc once he’s not addicted he’ll be magically healed!! or something because they really don’t actually consider his very real and very never going away or even getting slightly better pain outside of his addiction to vicodine.

another thing i hate, probably more than the abled characters telling house what is and isn’t acceptable for a disabled chronic pain patient to do, which is surprising considering how much i dislike it, is how they treat house’s relationship to his parents, specifically his dad. his dad is abusive. full stop. there’s nothing fucking redeeming about that man in any plot point in the show. he’s just straight up abusive. no real explanation, besides house was a rebellious kid and his dad was the typical Military Father™. like, he made house take ice water baths and sleep outside in the cold when he misbehaved. his dad spoke to him solely through typed notes for TWO MONTHS. WHEN HE WAS 12. house didn’t get to eat dinner if he was two minutes late (that’s a direct quote btw). and still, the very few people he considers friends try to force him to still forgive his dad and feel bad when his dad is dying and when he does die. like, no, fuck that. you should never, ever force someone with abusive parents to forgive them or mourn them. that should be their decision. but no, you literally drug house with a sedative to force him to go to his dad’s funeral! that’s beyond fucked up! like house does morally ambiguous things in this show for the sake of saving patients (and being an ass) but sedating a friend to force them to go to an extremely emotionally traumatizing event by use of sedation and kidnapping when he said he didn’t want to go is. i am so mad for house.

should house try and seek closure and come to terms with his extreme childhood abuse at the hands of his father? yes. obviously. house is fucked up from his childhood, he’s admitted that most of his emotional dysfunction is due to his parents’ abuse. which is a lot for house to admit, lbr. he literally cannot accept praise, and it’s always shoved off by him being an asshole, but he cannot accept praise. that’s textbook childhood abuse, esp emotional abuse! it cannot get more textbook than that! and they are forcing him to face probably the most traumatizing time in his life because they think they know what he needs. and considering everything else they “do for him” in this show, they don’t know shit.

i am just. look. i know house is an asshole. he’s meant to be an asshole. he doesn’t always make the good or right choice. he’d be knee-deep in about 5000 lawsuits if he were a real doctor and no one would actually want him as their doctor because of the risks he takes and how often he plays god thinking he’s right. he’s a plain asshole, and he needs wilson more than wilson needs him, but still does everything in his power to drive him away, short of actual evil things. but his needs are also constantly ignored by his friends bc they “know better” obviously. idk where i’m going with this but i am infuriated by how wilson and cuddy treat house and his personal issues, bc they forget he is still a person inside his shield of assholery. and they let him being an ass get in the way of actually doing the right thing by him, constantly, in every major house-centric character arc. that’s it. the whole post is just bc i am upset for house and, honestly, unpopular opinion, house deserved better.

thanks for coming to my ted talk

[delimeful]

you will see a better day

donation drive commission for @starrykid with the prompt: Remus dealing with intrusive thoughts and the others helping him through it.

warnings: canon setting, intrusive thoughts (a fair amount), gore mentions, implications of thoughts of self harm, Remus Going Thru It

-

Before, whenever he had a Bad Day, it was just more fuel on the trash fire that was his brain. 

It was routine: Remus would wake up with a litany of grotesque images on the back of his eyelids, present every time he blinked or squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. These thoughts weren’t the fun kind of gross, the type that was fascinating or funny. They weren’t fun because he didn’t choose them, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get rid of them if he didn’t like them. 

Guess that was how everyone else felt about you. Remus mashed a pillow over his own face as though it would muffle his own mind. What a stupid thought. He was a luxury few could afford, thank-you-very-much!

Back then, as soon as possible, he would find someone else in the Mindscape to bother, because if he had to deal with the awful thoughts carving and chipping away at the inside of his skull, it was only fair to share. 

That was before, when things had been black and white and he could be a monster all he pleased because it wasn’t like anyone else thought differently. It wasn’t like Thomas thought differently. 

Until he did.

And now they were all in one muddled up Mindscape and the others were trying, making an effort to clot their own bad habits and setting a place for him at the table. It was slow-going, like shoving a square peg into a circular hole, but it was also the most he’d ever had. Until something splintered, he was going to soak in every minute of it. 

Or at least, that was his plan, up until he hit another Bad Day like a semi truck hit thrice-dead roadkill. 

Same thoughts, same pounding (heh) headache. The difference was, now he couldn’t go word-vomit all over the nearest Side until he felt a little less like he was drowning. He was working to keep the delicate peace in his own way, and that meant not bothering the others with his… himself-ness on days like these. 

He couldn’t stay in his room all day, though. For one it was boring, and for two, ever since they’d all agreed to try and cohabitate, Patton and Janus in particular were insistent on checking in if anyone acted strange. Cooping up in his room and not being his usual fantastically sickening and outrageous self would definitely pop up on their radar. If that happened, there was no way he could fool Janus outright. He preferred his own brand of frank honesty anyways, so clearly the only solution was to behave normally enough that nobody looked twice. 

His version of normal, anyhow. 

He groaned loudly and then dragged in a breath, manifesting a pair of slippers that looked uncannily like dead fish onto his feet. He would just have to put his excellent acting skills to use. 

—- 

Remus’s willpower was put to the test as soon as he reached the kitchen. A new record of his ability to destroy plans, this must be why Janus never told him anything. 

Patton was spinning himself in circles on one of the round stools by the bar counter, humming a cartoon theme brightly to himself. At the stovetop, Virgil was sedately flipping pancakes, an easy set to his shoulders that meant he had probably recently taken a long-overdue nap in Logan’s room.

Normally, Remus would already be halfway into teasing the hell out of him, but now his brain felt scrambled with panic. Virgil was particularly susceptible to getting dragged into the cycle of intrusive thoughts on days like these, which meant the anxious Side was the last one he wanted to run into at the moment. 

Two birds with one brick, his stupid hell brain suggested slyly. Send Virgil into a spiral and then it’ll be him who gets nagged, his fault for ruining the friendly atmosphere. 

Stop it. Remus’s face twitched into a self-directed snarl for a moment, and he forced the thought away as Patton finally slowed his rotation to smile dizzily at him. 

“Remus! Good morning!” 

Virgil glanced over his shoulder, sending Remus’s heart rate briefly into the triple digits. Be normal be normal be normal. “Hey, Re. Morning.”

He didn’t even notice. So much for being your friend. If you’re subtle enough, you could sidle up behind him and smash his face into the hot burner—

“WHAT’S UP, FUCKERS!” Remus shouted, teeth spread in a too-wide grin. He bounced into the kitchen, depositing an assorted handful of teeth (his preferred currency) into the swear jar before Patton could say anything, and planted himself on the middle bar stool. 

Patton scooted one stool closer to be next to him, because of course he did. Remus resisted the urge to start prying out handfuls of hair, his own or— no. Toned down, he was keeping it toned down. Buttcheek on a stick, this was difficult.

“Want to spin with me?” Patton asked, shifting antsily from side to side with barely contained energy. 

“Whoever pukes first wins?” Remus replied automatically, and felt a bright burst of giddy joy when Patton giggle-snorted instead of recoiling. 

“I think upchuck is actually supposed to mean you lose your lunch and the spinning contest, kiddo.” 

Of course it did. You were designed to be the loser, even if you try to change the rules. 

Remus knew that this time Patton had spotted the way his lips twitched down into a grimace, but before the fatherly side could say anything, there was the clink of ceramic plates on the counter in front of them. 

“No spinning and/or vomiting if you want to eat my pancakes,” Virgil demanded, wielding a spatula threateningly at them as he clicked the stovetop off. “We’ll never hear the end of it from Princey if he has to reconjure all the furniture.” 

Irrational, heated anger burned through him. Like Virgil could do anything to stop you. Social interaction was enough to give the guy a panic attack, he couldn’t tell Remus to do or not do anything— 

“You good, Re?” Virgil asked, and he jerked, avoiding the other Side’s gaze as though eye contact would expose his thoughts. After a beat too long, his mind finally caught up with the plate in front of him. 

His pancake was covered in a truly disgusting amount of cheese and ketchup, the way he always requested it back when they’d all been Dark Sides. Despite the fact that he always made a face back then, Virgil had made a point to remember, had done it without asking. 

Like ravenous wolves, his thoughts instantly turned against him. 

Pathetic. How could you think things like that about people who trust you? You shouldn’t even be here, pretending to be a person. You deserve everything coming to you. 

His hand made it halfway to the fork sitting innocently next to his plate before he remembered himself. Virgil was still looking at him, clearly having caught the motion, and Remus lowered his hand, white-knuckled. 

“Me, good? That’s a funny one, V-mo!” he tried to joke, but the odd edge to his voice made it fall flat. Virgil was outright frowning now, and out of the corner of his vision Patton’s eyebrows were drawing together.

“What’s wrong?” Virgil asked, his frame tight with tension and his gaze drilling into Remus. “Are you hurt?” 

“I could be!” Remus blurted, trying to keep his tone saucy but ending up with something closer to desperate. “You ever think maybe bashing my skull in would be better than having to deal with its contents?”

The two of them winced, and he knew he’d given himself away completely. Shit.

Virgil reached out, and then stopped himself before he could make contact. Can you blame him? Jumping into an electrified tank of leeches would be more comfortable than willingly exposing himself to you. 

Something of his internal diatribe must have shown on Remus’s face, because Virgil’s hesitant expression flickered into regret.

“Shit,” he swore, and this time Patton didn’t chide him. “I can’t-- I don’t want to send you into a spiral, Re. If I touch you, we’re just going to be stuck in a feedback loop of bad thoughts.” 

“Like how you’re perpetually stuck in 2009?” Remus offered, instead of listing all the ways he could feasibly remove Virgil’s eyes from their sockets. It would almost be fun, if it wasn’t his friend’s eyes he was contemplating prying out with a spoon handle. 

Virgil’s lips pulled up slightly. “Yeah, just like that. I’m gonna go get the others. They’ll be able to help you for real.” 

He sunk out, and Remus’s head started to ache more severely as terrible and often gory predictions for the future began to crowd his mind. He shoved his hands into the roots of his hair and tugged ferociously. 

“Hey, buddy, you shouldn’t pull on your hair like that,” a concerned voice chimed in. Remus had almost forgotten Patton was still there, sitting only a seat away. 

He pulled harder on his hair, both out of spite and to distract himself from the urge to summon a weapon and see if Patton would still look at you with so much pity if you shanked his ass and tied his intestines into little bows. 

“Hey, what do you call a seasick croc?” Patton asked, abruptly enough that Remus managed to shake his train of thought. He glanced up to look at the Heart, who offered him a tremulous mischievous smile. “A crocobile.” 

Remus snorted, and Patton’s smile seemed to firm up. 

“How about, why do ducks have tail feathers?” the moral Side asked in that same leading tone. 

Remus thought for a minute. “‘Cause otherwise they’d lose their balance in flight and go splat against the nearest window?” 

“I mean, maybe, but also!” Patton held up a finger for emphasis. “They have tail feathers to cover their… butt-quacks.”

There was a beat of anticipation where they both stared at each other, and then Remus threw his head back and outright cackled. Patton fist pumped in delight. 

“I thought you might like that one, kiddo,” he said, beaming. Before Remus could reply, possibly with an atrocious pun of his own, Roman strode into the room. 

There was a brief, awkward pause as the two of them made eye contact. Patton looked rapidly between them with concern, and Remus couldn’t blame him. Even now, their one-on-one interactions tended to end with vicious spats. They were too good, too practiced at pressing each other's buttons to settle into the newfound peace easily. 

“... Bad one?” he finally asked, as though he could spot the wrong-evil-awful all over Remus from a mile away. Remus felt his expression drop into an irritable glower worthy of Anxiety, but before he could retort, Roman was seating himself primly on the communal couch.   

He ran his hand through the hair at the nape of his neck in a nervous habit Remus constantly teased him about, and then straightened his shoulders and patted the cushion next to him. “I’ll… like when we were kids. If you want.” 

Despite Patton’s confused head tilt, Remus got it immediately, and ignored the screaming violence in his head in favor of bodily throwing himself over the couch, jostling the hell out of his brother and eliciting a Grade-A Bitchface from him in the process. Remus grinned maliciously in return.

“Do the one that looks like a snake,” he demanded, running a hand through his hair and lengthening it. Of course, in addition, thick clumps of hair ended up falling out entirely, leaving weird-feeling bald patches that might have been interesting if he’d actually intended to create them. 

“On purpose or don’t want it?” Roman asked, echoing a familiar question from their childhood. It had been a royal decree, before they grew so divided, that one had to ask before ‘fixing’ anything the other did, just in case it was on purpose. 

“How are you supposed to braid what isn’t there?” Remus grumbled, gnawing on the inside of his cheek as he unwillingly imagined restapling his hair to his skull. “Don’t want it.” 

Roman dragged his fingers through Remus’s hair, lengthening it until it was long enough to do all sorts of stupid-complicated braids. He also made the new hair unforgivably glossy and apple-scented, but Remus could get him back for that later, when he was sure it wouldn’t be (nails through nasal cavities, a cloud of suffocating darkness, decaying hands pulling you down into freshly turned soil and burying you alive) disproportionate retribution. 

Two braids later, Logan appeared, rising up in the mindscape with his tie perfectly aligned but lab goggle imprints around his eyes. He only took a moment to absorb the scene, as though it was normal that everyone was crowding around Remus attentively. “Virgil informed me that you could use some assistance?” 

Remus snorted. “Maybe you can perform some impromptu brain surgery to stop me thinking? Hey, if you don’t use anesthetic, I promise not to squirm too much, doc.”

“I don’t believe that man’s ever been to medical school,” Roman quoted absently, still caught up in combining three braids together into one. 

Logan rolled his eyes. “Regardless of my unfortunately lacking PhD status, I believe brain surgery to ‘stop one thinking’ is also colloquially referred to as an induced coma.” 

“Perfect!” Remus cheered, and then yelped when Roman tugged on his hair harshly in retribution. Patton was making that half-pitiful, half-furious face that he always made whenever the emo talked bad about himself, strangely enough.

“There are plenty of adjectives I could use to describe such a solution, but none of them would be ‘perfect’, Remus,” Logan continued. “A more effective and patient-friendly answer would be addressing your irritating or harmful thoughts through the use of various mental health tactics.” 

Easy for him to say. “That might work for Tommy-boy, but I am the harmful or irritating thoughts, remember?” 

“Falsehood.” Logan declared, proving that no matter what aspect of Thomas they were, the Sides were all dramatic theater kid bastards at heart. “It has become increasingly clear that while we all formed to handle certain tasks or aspects, we are all increasingly complex at heart. None of us can be diminished to simply one trait. In the same way that Virgil is much more than the experience of anxiety, there is no logical reason to reduce yourself to the thoughts that you struggle with.” 

Remus shook his head, though he wasn’t sure what part of the assertion he was resisting. Logan folded himself into a sitting position and reached over for Remus’s hand, his touch grounding. 

“You’ve gotten through days like this before. You’ll continue to do so after,” Logan told him. 

“I got through Bad Days by making everyone’s day bad,” Remus retorted. “I’m not you, but I’m not stupid. Nobody wants me making it into a communal event.” 

“That’s what family’s for though,” Patton said, shifting closer from his own spot on the rug. “Listening. Helping. Having each other’s backs when things get tough!” 

Logan’s grip didn’t falter. Roman’s presence was solid at his back. Remus was beginning to wonder if he’d snorted something hallucinogenic recently.

“The sentiment is admirable, if a bit hypocritical,” a familiar voice chimed in, and Remus looked up to see Janus leaning elegantly against the kitchen archway. Virgil elbowed his way past, ruining the dramatic pose and flopping down on the couch next to Remus. He bumped his shoe against Remus’s leg in quiet camaraderie.

“Hypocritical?” Logan echoed, raising an eyebrow. 

“Unless you’d like to tell me that everyone here has no problems whatsoever asking for help or expressing vulnerability on their bad days,” Janus proposed, smugly. 

Logan inclined his head slightly. “Point.” 

“Regardless, that doesn’t make Logic or Morality incorrect.” Janus looked at Remus intently. “None of us are allowed to simply suffer in silence, anymore.”

“I didn’t exactly suffer in silence before,” he pointed out, sounding uncannily sensible. Probably from the nerd’s proximity. 

“Then you shouldn’t have a problem now, hmm?” Janus replied. 

Logan sighed at them all, collectively, in general. “Look at it from this angle, Remus. Your previous coping mechanism was generally detrimental due to your lack of options and isolation. Now, you have neither of those holding you back. With knowledge and assistance, you can only improve from here on out.” 

Now, that was doubtful. “And what if I don’t, huh? What if I just get worse?” 

“Then we’ll still be here.” Logan squeezed his hand, and Janus confirmed his words with a nod, and even though his mind was cluttered and overwhelming, they were all still there at his side without complaint. 

Maybe it wasn’t too much to ask, after all.

“Well, what are we trying first?”

[whump-a-la-mode]

Nemesis - Part 3

This part is a little more plot heavy, but I added in some nice Whumpy bits too! I hope you guys enjoy, and thanks everyone for their suggestions!

Also, the next part of this may be a bit late, as I’m planning for my next piece to be the continuation of Villainsicle!

CW//Mentions of law enforcement, mentions of therapy/treatments, restraints, medical abuse, begging, screaming, forced sedation, needles, blood

Open the door.

It would be so simple. The entrance was constructed of little more than wood and a flimsy lock. Even someone without the benefit of powers could break it. And, based on what Hero had seen so far of this place, it may not have even been locked.

Just open it.

Open the door, and they could sleep again.

Open the stupid door.

But...

Hero’s hands clenched into fists, their gaze moving upwards, fixing upon the metal plaque upon the door.

‘43′

Beyond the simple plank of wood, their nemesis was laying. Suffering. Trapped in their own mind.

They could open the door, just twist the knob, and save them. In any other time, any other instance, it was what they would have done. They knew the way the others spoke of them, joked about them. Saying they’d jump off a bridge, even if their friends hadn’t done it first. They couldn’t control their impulses. That was what Leader always wrote, in the reports. Impulsive. Reckless.

That’s what they were. Reckless.

But that was back when it didn’t matter. That was back when the only one in danger was them. Hero. Now that Villain was part of the equation?

They had to think. They had to be smart.

Hero bit their tongue with enough force that the taste of bloody iron washed over their taste buds.

They didn’t open the door.

Around the corner, a doctor in blue scrubs furrowed their brow, and dipped away to make a phone call.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

“If I’m being completely honest, Hero, I wasn’t expecting you to contact me again.”

Hacker spoke with their head down, sheepish, as though a child apologizing for breaking a toy.

Again, the two sat in the same diner: It was busy, but crowded enough that they could simply blend into the lunch rush without fuss. To avoid questions, the both of them had ordered an appetizer, though neither of them had much of an appetite to speak of.

“You weren’t? Why’s that?”

“I mean...” They leaned back in their seat, pressing their spine against the padded booth seat back. “I didn’t think you’d care? That sounds kind of rude now that I’m saying it out loud but... The stuff I was showing you, I assumed you were already aware of it.”

“You thought I knew the way Villain was being treated?”

“Kind of? That’s the kind of stuff they tell you, right?”

“Eh...” Hero dropped their gaze. “Not really. That’s not our business. We catch the crook, what happens to them after isn’t really our focus.”

Hacker frowned.

“It’s not?”

“No.”

“So you didn’t know?”

“Not at all. I knew they were at that facility but... I thought it was fine. I thought Villain was fine.”

“Maybe I should have told you sooner, then.”

“You knew?”

“Well.” There came the embarrassment once more, their cheeks flushing. “For the scale of your organization, your cybersecurity is a little... lacking. Everything from that rehab facility, it’s stored on an off-site backup. Their on-site security is decent, but once it goes through that external data channel, it’s caught right in my net.”

“Is that right?”

“Don’t tell anyone, please?”

“Trust me, I wasn’t planning on it. I have much bigger problems than low level hackers.”

“Hey!”

“That’s not to say you’re a low-level hacker.”

“That’s better. Then, if you’re not here to like, arrest me-”

“That’s what you thought I was doing?”

“Kinda. If that’s not what you want, what do you want?”

“I want to know more.”

Hero had made the decision upon planning this meeting that they were not to tell Hacker about their visit to the facility. Despite the aid they had already offered, it was hard to trust someone who admitted to criminality with such nonchalance. And, besides, Hero was almost certain that their superiors wouldn’t be happy to know about their distraction.

“More?”

“You’ve been watching them for a while, right? I want to know more. Everything about Villain, everything about the whole place. How much do you know?”

“A lot. I have a considerable amount of files, though I have no way of knowing how many more there are that I don’t have. How many they keep on-site.”

“But you have information?”

“I have a lot of junk. Taxes, insurance, quarterly reports, formalities. Prescriptions for mundane crap like, I don’t know, allergies. But, I think I have a few diamonds in the rough. You’re going to have to be more specific than that, though. I do need something to work off of.”

Hero nodded, biting their lip. They hadn’t exactly thought this far ahead.

They were getting Villain out of that so-called rehab facility. They knew that much. But they needed to be smart about it. They needed information. They needed to know how they could get their friend- foe out of that place quickly, safely, and with as little noise as possible.

“The facility.” They began. “How does it work? It’s a relatively small facility housing a relatively large number of dangerous criminals. How do they... help them? They’re not all treated like Villain, right?”

“I don’t think there’s enough drugs on the continent to keep them all like Villain. Their methods of treatment are... unclear. The patient reports indicate what therapies each one is undergoing, but they don’t have names. Just numbers. Codes. Whatever they do in there, they keep it in house. My doctor friends have never heard of any of it, before.”

“Then how do they do it? Drugs?”

“If they have some kind of secret therapy, I don’t know about it. But they do have something else. They call it AMRS.”

“AMRS?”

“The Automatic Magnetic Restraint System. A fancy name for a crude practice. They’re vague about it, of course, but from what I can tell, each resident wears these four ring things. Bracelets, it calls them. One on each wrist, one on each ankle. A single push of a button, and they all link together. Any escape stopped in a second.”

“That seems...”

“Cruel? Yeah. But I guess it could be worse. As far as how the facility operates, though, that’s all I have. It’s not drugs, as far as I can tell. I have those dosage reports for everyone, and those that take medicine seem to do so for genuine medical conditions. Insulin, epilepsy medication, that kind of thing.”

“None of the others are sedated?”

“Not officially.”

“But Villain...”

“I think if they were any more heavily sedated, they’d go right from a temporary sleep to a permanent one.”

“You mean-”

“They’d die, yes. It’s called a euphemism, dumbass.”

“I know that. So, what about Villain, do you have anything else on them?”

“They’ve been kept heavily sedated since they arrived. Regular patient records, they just... don’t have them. No behavior reports, no treatment reports, nothing.”

“I guess they’re not really treating them.”

“Yeah.”

“They’ve really been kept like this, ever since I- Ever since they arrived?”

“As far as I can tell, yes.”

“Then it wasn’t reactionary.”

“What do you mean?”

“They didn’t try to like, blow up the facility, or kill up all the staff, or anything?! They were just knocked out. Locked up. They weren’t even given a chance to be good?”

Hacker lowered their gaze, nodding.

“Why?”

“Are you sure you want-”

“You know why?”

“I’m not certain, but-”

“Show me.”

Hacker startled a bit, but nodded once more, starting up their beast of a laptop and typing for a considerable amount of time. Hero could not help but hold their breath, and when the computer was at last turned to face them, they felt about to pass out.

“Wait.” Hacker spun the computer back. “You need to promise me something, first.”

“What?” Hero hated how desperate they sounded.

“Whatever you do, after you see this... please, just think it through.”

“Okay.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay.”

The screen was returned to Hero.

They halfway expected another video feed. A video of Villain, destroying and killing and doing something, anything to deserve their current treatment.

Instead, they were faced with an email. Or, at least, a screenshot of one. Passed through enough computers that the jpeg artifacts had begun to show.

An email from Director to Head Doctor.

The text was simple. Curt. A simple request to destroy a life.

“I am certain that you are aware of the new patient you will be intaking tomorrow. I request that you do not classify them among the other patients. Normal intake procedures will be unnecessary. You need only keep them contained. Alive if you can, dead if you must.

Villain must never see the light of day again. I trust that you will be able to accomplish this.

Thank you-- Do not forget that we will be meeting for lunch next Wednesday.”

Not even a hundred words. That was all it took, to turn a spirited fighter to a vegetable.

“Thank you, Hacker. I think... I think I need to go home.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Hero’s parting from the restaurant was sudden enough to make several other patrons look up. Hacker could not help but feel embarrassment well up in their chest. They hated being out in public like this.

They figured, even with the cold food sitting before them, they should be going. Finger on their mouse, they closed the email on the screen, revealing-

Not their desktop.

They had forgotten. They had meant to show Hero and they had forgotten.

Now, the video sat there, waiting. A chipper white arrow informing them that it was ready to play at any time.

They shouldn’t have. Hell, they could have at least waited to go home. But...

Hacker plugged in a set of earbuds, setting the buds themselves in their ears.

They clicked play.

Even on the rather low-quality security camera footage, the crash was loud enough to make Hacker jump. Three lab-coated figures, a mess of limbs and white coats, leapt atop the hospital gown wearing person like a predator after prey.

Villain was not facing the camera, but it made no difference. Their voice made them more than distinctive enough.

“Get the fuck off of me! Get off get off get off!“ The scream was loud enough to break the microphone’s volume filter, turning into a single, mournful screech.

If the labcoats heard, they did not listen. They positioned themselves along their captive’s body-- one holding their legs, one the arms, and one forcing their face to the tile.

“Please!”

The fourth figure wore a different outfit, a pair of blue scrubs, though the camera quality made them appear almost grey. Represented by only a few pixels, the syringe in their hand was none the less distinctive.

“Hold them still, please.” The doctor muttered, kneeling down beside Villain, their hysterical screaming not missing a beat.

“No! No! Please, please don’t do this! I don’t want to go! Please!”

There were no comforting words. Only the satisfied nodding of the head doctor as their needle slipped deftly to a vein and administered its contents.

“What is that, what is that, no no no please!”

A nurse handed down another syringe, and another, and another. The timestamp in the video’s corner dragged on in agonizing slowness as new pinpricks of blood welled up over Villain’s skin.

It took only a few minutes for their screaming to stop. Then their thrashing. Then, they closed their eyes.

It would be a long, long time until they opened them again.

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Of course, home was not a place of rest. Not as much as Hero would have liked it to be. They were not a civilian-- they were not that lucky. They did not have the chance to return home to a soft bed and a loving family.

No. When they went home, they went to work.

It was only past noon when they returned home to the HQ. A time at which the towering building stood largely abandoned, its occupants leaving in droves to flood the nearby restaurants like a locust swarm.

Riding the elevator to the floor containing their quarters, Hero hoped beyond hope that their team, too, had gone out.

But, of course, they had no such luck.

They didn’t even make it to their quarters. No, as soon as the elevator doors opened, their heart sunk.

“I saw you walk in.” Leader’s arms were crossed over their chest, a single eyebrow raised. “Let’s go to my office.”

“I was just about to go back to my dorm-”

“Actually, you were just about to follow my orders and go to my office.”

Hero slumped their shoulders. They didn’t have the energy to fight this, especially since they knew it was a fight they couldn’t win.

Leader’s office was a place they had all visited, though never under good circumstances. It was far too immaculately kept for what it was used for, a solid oak desk standing in a room well decorated with house plants and bookshelves. Leader took their seat, and Hero reluctantly did the same, across from them.

“So,” Leader began--they were not one for formalities. “When exactly when you planning on telling me?”

“If you’re going to yell at me about something, you at least have to tell me what.”

“Teammate told me, yesterday. They found out why you’re getting so distracted.”

Hero dropped their gaze. They weren’t exactly surprised about this. They only hoped Teammate had kept their mouth shut about their plans.

“It’s really nothing.” Hero tried. “I’ll get over it.”

“This anniversary you’re getting so upset over was ten days ago. By the time you get over it, another year will have already passed. So, no. You’re not getting out of it that easily. I need to know what’s gotten you so worked up.”

Hero gripped the arm of their chair.

“I’m worried. That’s all. Worried about Villain. It’s been too long. They’ve been so silent for so long.”

Leader frowned.

“I can personally assure you that Villain is being well taken care of. The rehabbers have more experience than you could imagine.”

“That’s just it! Villain spent so long terrorizing the city, and they’re still here. But they’re so quiet.”

Leader sighed, sitting up straight in their chair.

“This isn’t just a minor distraction. You need to know that. It’s reflecting on your performance, and heavily. Enough that Director has noticed.”

“Director?”

“Yes. They asked me about the situation, and I informed them of your current problem. They stated that, if it really is such a concern to you, they can have Villain moved to another facility. Somewhere farther.”

“No!”

“What? They think it would help, really. Out of sight. Out of mind.”

“No. They need to be here.”

“And why would that be?”

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Thanks so much for reading! Just like last time, there are two options along with every part of this story. Alongside each options is a question, so that you guys can give more specific suggestions if you so wish. The option that receives the most votes will be the choice that our Hero makes!

A.) Leader can help. Tell the truth - Should Hero tell Leader about Director’s role in Villain’s condition?

B.) Leader can also ruin the whole operation. Lie - What should Hero do next?

[petri808]

Bakudeku canon divergent, vampire quirk AU

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24

When Bakugou finally woke up in the Ena City Hospital, his head was splitting worse than a punch from Kirishima in full quirk, and ears rang with the force of all 108 New Year’s bell tolls. If he’d had no memory of the night before, Bakugou swore he’d just survived the worst hangover in history. Even his eyes hurt from the bright, piercing fluorescent lights and they weren’t even open! He turned his head to the side, noticing how much effort it took just to shift in such a small manner. It was as if his body was drained of... “Ugh, that bastard,” he groaned. ‘Fucker bit me.’ And as if to add insult to injury, a pin-prick pain in his neck revealed itself in that revelation.

His arm flopped up, hand straining with jerky strokes, reaching to touch the fresh bite wound located at the junction of his neck and shoulder. He flinched at the tender, bruising pain that sent a shock down his spine. Son-of— This just in! Pro Hero Dynamite cast in one of those cliché vampire movies that went straight to video. Definitely not the career start he’d envisioned.

“Oh, good you’re finally awake Mr. Bakugou.”

“Who the fuck are you?” he spat at the male voice. “And can someone turn the fucking lights off?!”

“I am Doctor Ishihira, and my apologies,” the doctor flicked off the overhead light. “Is that better?”

“Yeah,” he grumped.

“Mr. Bakugou, you were found yesterday morning and brought in suffering from hypovolemic shock due to severe blood loss and dehydration. We’ve treated you with 3 liters of IV fluids and blood plasma to bring your numbers back up, however you’ll still be groggy until your body replenishes the nutrients you were stripped of.”

Over a day had passed! At hearing he’d been out cold for so long, Bakugou immediately clenched his fists, swearing up and down about being released until they threatened to sedate him for longer. Longer?! He begrudgingly relented and settled down, but damn it! That meant Midoriya had another head start on him again! And now that the man knew he was on his trail, finding him would be a lot more difficult!

“What the hell is hypo-whatever shock?” Bakugou questioned.

“When you were found, you were in and out of consciousness and rambling incoherently, all signs of severe blood loss. The fatigue you’re still feeling is also due to the effects of it. Luckily the amount of loss wasn’t enough to start shutting down your organs.”

The doctor continued explaining a few more details regardless of the tantrum like a robot. Minor injuries he’d been treated for. The obvious puncture wounds in his neck, questioning Bakugou about any description he could provide of his attacker. He wasn’t about to tell this doctor or any authority figure who the true culprit was, so he feigned a temporary retrograde amnesia. Based on a raised brow, peering over his glass’s expression, the doctor didn’t look very convinced. Oh well, Bakugou really didn’t care about the man’s opinion.

“Mr. Bakugou, we also called you parents…”

“You what?!” Bakugou tried to jump off the bed, but his body absolutely refused to respond and ended up flopping like a dying fish. Ugh! He really was worse off than he’d thought.

“I’m sorry, but you are a minor, so we were obligated to do so. However, they did give us permission to treat and release you on your own recognizance once we felt you were better.”

Well, that was good news. ‘Sounds like mom actually listened to my letter.’ Or the authorities surely would have shown up by now. “Ugh! So, how much longer am I stuck here?”

“If you continue to recover well, tomorrow morning.”

Fuck! Now a three-day head start! Just great, he groaned. Midoriya could get far away with that kind of a jump start. “Fine, whatever! Now go the fuck away.”

The doctor left the room after explaining how nurses will be monitoring his progress, but to also let them know if anything started to feel worse. They needed to know if he developed any lasting effects from organ damage. Once he was alone again, Bakugou rolled gingerly onto his side as his mind processed the new information. Whatever Midoriya had been hit with must be the cause of this weird blood thirst that resembled a goddamn vampire plot line. Perhaps the significance of the blood coloring in his eyes was a sign of that thirst taking hold? That’ll be a handy tell, too bad it seemed to appear within seconds of the next step.

But if Midoriya had just fed on a victim, and history showed at times, a span of days before the next incident, what had caused his friend to attack him so fast? Was this thirst like a hunger? And what happens when you exercise or exert yourself? You use up energy. ‘Duh, Katsuki.’ Fighting and expending all that energy must have triggered the attack. ‘Wow, it burns fast.’ That meant Midoriya probably struggled to control this thirst, and that’s why he was pleading for him to leave him alone. But sorry, he couldn’t do that. ‘Fucker shouldn’t have run!’ One way or another he is getting his friend back home where he belonged. In fact, this only made his drive to find Midoriya stronger because he felt like he was partially to blame for the predicament his friend was in. The guy had to be scared, freaked out, and lonely. Bakugou’s heart clenched at the thought. He knew his friend was a social person by nature who loved being around friends and family. To be stuck out here all by himself and too frightened because of whatever this new quirk was had to be horrible… and utterly not fair. Of course, he did have a tendency to isolate himself when he feared…

Bakugou groaned. “Kami, not again with this shit!” When was Midoriya gonna learn to stop running away!

As his eyes relented to the fatigue and his mind slipped back into unconsciousness, Bakugou could only pray he’ll get a lead as soon as he got out of this hospital. This strange new quirk, if that’s really what it was, posed a serious danger not only to Midoriya, but the public. The reputation of pro hero’s had taken a major hit already because of AFO and the league, so if the public found out about a blood drinking hero attacking people… ‘I gotta get you out of here…’

After his encounter with Bakugou, Midoriya had rushed out of town as quickly as possible. Tears poured down his cheeks as he took off into the sky from having given in to the lust of this uncontrollable quirk. But he couldn’t stop it even if he’d wanted to. He’d learned the hard way right at the beginning that once it took hold of his mind, the only thing he could do was give-in or succumb to an even worse ravenous state that literally hurt. The pain of holding out on the hunger made him feel like a starved predatory animal that tore at his insides until he relented. In this state, the blood of any creature that came too close became a meal. But it was never enough. Animal blood didn’t satiate him in the same way that human blood did. Plus, he worried that if he let it get completely out of control, he might just end up killing someone. So far, he’d been lucky to leave them all unconscious but alive.

It was obvious that the light AFO had hit him with contained this strange quirk. How ironic, to take down a villain, only to be turned into one. That’s how Midoriya felt. How else could he feel? A hero wouldn’t hurt other people, so by taking the blood of others for sustenance, that made him a villain. Therefore, he couldn’t be a hero anymore. It must have been AFO’s plan all along once he’d realized he was losing. The villains end goal was to ruin hero society and this was definitely one way to do it. Take out his primary rival. The man poised to carry on a torch of safety and security, and snuff out any who chose to do harm… The whole situation with Bakugou really turned this into a nightmare out of body experience. To see his friend’s eyes suddenly show fear, then fade away the more he drank… his mouth clamped to the man’s neck… it was a horrible imagine that was sure to haunt him. He could still smell the burnt cinnamon from such a close encounter. If only he had clothes to change into or even a pond to bathe in, because that lingering scent was gonna drive him mad!

Midoriya curled up and clenched his eyes shut tight in an abandoned and overgrown castle he’d found outside of Ena. It didn’t look like it’s been maintained for a very long time, so the likelihood of a human showing up seemed low. He knew he should have travelled farther away, but he was too tired, too upset and just wanted to quit. All the years of growing up quirkless, to gain OFA and become the very thing he’d dreamt of, only for those dreams to be dashed again. It was as if life just didn’t want him to be a real hero. Maybe he should just put himself out of his misery, and yet— he couldn’t do it. To die out here alone where no one knew where he was or what had become of him, that wasn’t fair to his family and friends…

They must be so worried about him right now. His poor mother didn’t deserve any of this. Would his friends look down on him now? And All Might, his idol, who’d taken him under his wing, was he disappointed? And that just left Bakugou. He’d said the truth in answering the man’s question. No, Midoriya never would have expected him to come looking. Katsuki Bakugou giving a damn about him? Yeah, right. Bakugou wasn’t doing this because he cared. There was always a selfish reason behind his madness. Fear. Anger. Jealousy. Shouldn’t big bad Dynamight be thrilled that his biggest rival was gone?

Okay that was a big, fat white lie he’d been telling himself for the last two years. He knew Bakugou had moved past those pettier behaviors, but it was simply easier to believe and keep their relationship as rivals than to hope his childhood friend would ever see him as something else. And yet… ‘Kacchan was genuinely surprised by my answer. Did he really come looking for me because he cared that much?’ Yet in what way? Why was the man trying so hard? Did he… ‘miss me?’

Midoriya shook his head violently of those thoughts. No, no, he didn’t want to believe that because it would make this situation even more unbearable than it already was! He’d already given up everything he’d ever loved. His hopes and dreams, a future and losing an affection he’d craved for years would just simply be too much.

[daydreamed-snippets]

TW: Sorry, I’m in a mood. Talk of Suicide. Abuse of prescription medication. Underage drinking. Hints at abuse

It was quiet here in the bones of the old house. Cold. Drafty. Wildlife feasted on the general decomposition of trim. Faded tile and decaying drywall dangling at odd angles. Bricks lay uprooted by greenery. Furniture slowly losing its form was arranged haphazardly throughout the house. Winn could see her breath hang in the air, curl in a tight spiral before dispersing into the night. A single electric lantern kept watch beside a nest of her own making: a bedding of dried leaves, her favorite crochet blanket, and a little radio faintly playing an upbeat tune.

Oh, and a bottle of whiskey and every fucking antidepressant and mood stabilizer those bastards had ever prescribed for her. 

Playing eenie meenie miney mo, she uncapped a half-empty bottle of citalopram and popped all of it into her mouth. She took a swig, throwing her head back to ensure she swallowed. Looking around she supposed it was a fitting epitaph. Her end would be here, in this broken mausoleum, a showcase to humankind’s fundamental need to create something sublime but ultimately fail in its maintenance. To conceive something beautiful but become indifferent and bored with it, letting it fall into ruin. Wreckage that is only redeemable by nature itself. It would be nice, she thought, if something productive, beautiful even, grew out of her decaying life too. 

Then maybe everything would have been worth it.

Absently plucking at weeds poking through fractured flooring, she huddled over on herself waiting for the drugs to take effect. Her stomach turned as she tried not to think. Tried not to repeat the same question over and over in her head.

How many times did she have to lose everything to take the hint? How many times did she have to hit rock bottom before her knees buckled and her legs snapped trying to stick the landing as she broke herself to please everyone?

For her, the answer was four. Not that that matters now. Cause now it was too late. Now she finally gets it. Now she gets why her Mami was so unhappy. Why Miami's boyfriend, Leonard, wasn’t happy. Why her doctors weren’t happy. Her teachers, her friends. Everyone. Why the world was unhappy. Maybe her death would make them happy again.

A breeze picked up, whistling through the gaps. It sounded like someone was whistling and walking around the house, wooden planks creaking. That should have terrified her but her mind was starting to feel a pleasant, sleepy haziness. She took another half-empty bottle by her feet and downed the contents, choking on her own saliva and the aftertaste of the alcohol. 

Thoughts continued to rush in, unabated, like a broken dam. Each empty bottle held its own story, mostly of the times Leonard lugged her to another shrink, to “fix” her while her mother sat in the car, finding solace in a glass bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag. Finishing it before Winn’s hour-long appointments were over. 

None of it ever seemed to satisfy Leonard. Not that he ever waited for her to finish her prescription before shoving the next pill down her throat, deeming the previous one ineffective when she would have another episode. Promising that the next drug would be it. That the next one would work. And she believed him. Each and every time, she believed. Whatever was wrong with her, these next pills would fix it.

But they never did. 

Soon it turned into, why can’t you be like x? Why can’t you just do x? Your attitude is why x is happening to you. Do you even want to get better from x?

She could put anything in for x. The equation stayed the same, with one common denominator: 

Her. 

Winn. 

She was the shared numerator whose value was always zero. And anything that is multiplied by zero forever equals zero.

Another half-filled bottle, another swig. Her heart started slowing down. So did her breathing, face becoming flush. She was having a hard time keeping her eyes open. 

Another floorboard whined under stress, and a voice followed it. “That is an especially painful way to die, dear one,” someone called out to her. “Overdoses can be messy affairs when attempted through the unpredictability of drugs.”

A surge of fright course through her. Who was that? A ghost? Leonard? She didn’t know. They remained out of sight. She looked up through the smog of her mind, unaware that anyone had breached the house grounds. She curled more into her nest. 

It couldn’t be Leonard. At least she didn’t think it was him. It was hard to tell right now. It didn’t sound like him. Her chest wouldn’t stop stinging, though, at war with medical sedation and her adrenaline. Trying to play it cool, she schooled her tone, wishing she had a taser on her. Cursing how stupid she was to come here without one. “You lost?” she called, scrubbing her face with the bottom of her palm, her coordination clumsy. “The main road‘s that way.” She pointed, not exactly knowing if that was the right direction anymore. “House gone to be destroyed in the morning. The bots won’t check to see if anyone’s in here before they start smashing.”

“That’s why you’re here, isn��t it?” he asked, coming into view. It sounded more like a statement. “Because you don’t think anyone will find you before they start demolition.”

She squinted at the man in an impeccable blue suit, refusing to answer. Definitely not Leonard. But…

“Mmm, I know you,” she said scrunching her eyes, fighting to place the face, fighting to find a name. Yes, she has seen him somewhere, but her mind could only remember one location in which she encountered him. A place shrouded in metaphoric perception and youthful symbolism. A place that is both romanticized and villainized oftentimes in the same breath. A place she could only visit when she closed her eyes at night and slipped from this reality to another. 

“The man of my dreams. How—?” She swallowed, thoughts tripping over themselves. Her speech started to slur. He squatted in front of her, full weight on the balls of his expensive shoes, keeping his immaculate attire away from the dirt of the house. He moved gracefully, and though his smile looked concerned it was still every bit disarming.

“Uhh, I mean man from my dreams,” she stammered. “Uh, how is this?” It dawned on her. The part of her mind that was still intact. “Hallucinations. I’m dreaming. I-I’ve passed out.”

“You have not,” he said, making no move towards her. Simply staring her down with hooded eyes. “At least, not yet. And though I am, how did you put it, ‘the man of your dreams’, I’m not some figment of your imagination, Winnifred. I am quite real, and I’m here.”

Winn barked a laugh, “Oh my gods, for real? ‘I’m here’?” she mocked. “Everything’s good, I’m here.” She grabbed the bottle, his eyes following, and took a sip. “Fo sure, like that would really matter now. You can get your damn hair swirl outta my face with that.” 

She made a move for his hair, uncoordinated and choppy, catching herself when she leaned forward too much and fell onto her hands. It took a while. He remained still for her, attentive, but unmoved. She was able to ruffle his dark blond hair out of its slicked-back position, wrapping a finger around the bit of lock that fell over his brow without falling again. 

Their eyes met.

Realizing what she was doing she yanked her hand back as if burned. Confusion swept through her. He raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Convinced?”

“I can touch people in my dreams, it’s just...” It’s never felt so real. 

She reached for another prescription. Clearly, she was delusional. Clearly, this was a trick. She poured out the oval-shaped pill preparing to swallow it whole. It was quite possible that she was out cold, body slumped over like the furniture of this house. Quite possible she was unconscious and this was her mind’s last chance at providing her with a final comfort. A childhood sentential to keep watch as she fades away.

She tilted her head back, arm poised to sling the pills into her mouth. 

The man moves. 

He shifts to catch her wrist in a light but firm hold. The bottle slips out of her fingers, clatters to the floor, along with the pills, dropping between boards and out of reach. Winn curses. 

“Don’t touch me,” she said pulling away easily. “You don’t know me like that.”

“Listen to me, Winnifred,” his voice held a command. “I have not moved heaven and earth—I have not rescheduled my life just to watch your throw away yours. I do know you. I’ve known you since you were four years old. I’ve visited your dreams since your first nightmare. I’ve watched over you the best I could from afar.

“When I said, I’m here now, it wasn’t meant to be crass or derisive. So many people have let you down in your life, I being the chief among them. But I am here now. Things will get better. Let me prove it.”

“That wasn’t real. And dreams isn’t knowing someone.”

He tilted his head. “I know that your father left you when you were six. I know that your mother has been bounding from boyfriend to boyfriend, looking for validation but never really finding it. Each suitor worse than the last. The current beau is a monster called Leonard.”

She gulped, running a hand over her face. Tucking a curl behind her ear. He watched, gaze overly familiar. Possessive without even touching her. Eyes extracting what he wanted. She imagined he didn't take no for an answer. She imagined he changed outcomes to fit his ambitions. 

She felt unable to hide. 

“I know what he’s been doing to you,” he said, voice changing.

“H-how?”

He let out a breath of air. “I know this because I’ve seen your dreams. I know you’ve been having a recurring one of Leonard assaulting you, and then ending your life. It may happen in different facets and different places, but the theme is resoundingly the same. You also have recurring dreams of your mother’s lifeless body lying on the side of the road while traffic rushes by. Sometimes hitting her, most of the time not.” He adjusted his cufflinks, before completely abandoning his position to sit on the grassy floor. “You’ve been having these particular dreams for a while. It is because you venture into Leonard’s dreams each night, before going to your mother’s. It’s not unusual for someone with your abilities since they are the closest people to you. You’re able to see what Leonard will do to you, whether he’s willing to admit to his own perverse desires or not. And you’re able to view your mother’s darkest fears. Of being abandoned by everyone.”

“You’ve always had a talent for dream wandering and precognitive dreams. You were once able to control your dreams, steer away from the nightmares with my help.” 

“I can’t anymore. It’s too—” her voice cracked, and she was reminded of his face. His words. How Leonard taught her to hold her breath, to clamp down on her tongue. He taught her to hide truths, and keep secrets. To bear the scars without screaming, and conceal them. He showed her to shut up while her dignity—her pride—would rage beneath the surface while he was near.

“Those dreams are just dreams. That’s what Leonard said.” She needed to adhere to that. If anything could appease Leonard it was that. And she needed to appease him. Her mother was too weak, too afraid for her own life to safeguard Winn’s, and yet too desperate for a man to head out on her own. Besides if they ran, Leonard would eventually find them. He always found them.

“Trust me, like you once did,” his voice was soft, yet it cut through her racing thoughts like a well-crafted blade. He held his hand out to her, the gesture speaking of promise and nostalgia. Reminding her of how of a strong presence he was in her dreams. The one bit of sanity in an array of insane characters and worlds. He slew monsters, clothed her when she was naked, stopped her before she'd slip into a free fall. Laughed with her. Held her when she cried. He was kind to her. Above all, he showed her tenderness when no one else did.

“Remember me,” he went on, “as I was. I can be that for you again, in this waking land. You can still choose to come with me and leave all of this sorrow behind. Or,” he withdrew his hand when she turned her head, refusing to take it. “You can choose not to, and I will sit with you until you lose consciousness. Then I will carry you to the nearest medical facility where they will pump your stomach, and a physiologist will evaluate you. One not worth the paper their license was printed on. They will, in all likelihood, lock you away in a psychiatric ward, to be forever treated as a pariah. It’s your choice.” 

Her eyes jerked back towards him. He said it like a threat. Winn supposed she was running out of time. She wanted to trust him, but… she hadn’t seen him in her dreams for two years. He said that he’s there for her, but he hadn’t been. And she’d learned that being alone felt safer. 

She pulled back, making a move to stand. Maybe he’ll let her go. Maybe he wasn’t even here. His fingers didn’t act like a vice when he grabbed her earlier. She easily slipped him then. Maybe she can do it again. Maybe—

Her legs buckled under her, nerve endings on fire. She vomited, hopefully not on him. Gods, not on him. Her vision blurred, darkness edging the rim. She felt hands on her but wasn’t for sure. She was dazed. She needed to resist. Or maybe she needed to give in. She couldn’t open her eyes though was mildly aware of the feeling of being lifted, of a certain weightlessness. 

Winn was heaved against a strong chest. Instinctively, her hands went up, fingers curling and uncurling around dream man’s lapel in a display of rebellion or surrender, she wasn’t sure. She wanted defiance but it was so easy to just give in. Darkness claimed her.

Like it mattered because he wasn’t really there. Right? 

[sunsetinmyvein]

You Pick a Fight - P2

Eyyyyy it’s prompt time. I have since forgotten what prompt’s @imagine-that-100​ gave me from the prompt list for this part two, but hopefully you enjoy it anyway. :P

And I was right, because it wasn’t over. The pool incident was just the start of much more bickering and fighting over nothing that was set to come during the months between Matty and I. We hadn’t known each other all that well prior to that day, but it definitely set the bar for future interactions. Being argumentative and stubborn was just a habit neither of us could break, much to all of our mutual friend’s annoyance. It might’ve been on the verge of immature, since we were both pushing thirty, but neither of us cared. And we never really meant it. Grudges about stolen floaties were not held for long. It was a rare occasion that we genuinely made up and said sorry, but typically by the end of the day we had either forgotten about it or played some prank on the other to feel avenged about our wrong doing. Over the course of many months of arguing and pranking, Matty and I inevitably became closer. Realistically, Matty was probably one of my best friends by this point in my life. We saw each other at least a couple of times a week for various reasons and I enjoyed his company (mostly). But that wasn’t going to stop me from trying to constantly one-up him and make sure I destroy him any time he challenges me to anything. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right? You gotta know your opponent’s weaknesses to best exploit them.

 However, tonight was our regularly scheduled movie night. So, more than likely no arguing would be occurring tonight. The movie had already been picked by democratic vote by the group, which meant there would be no debates about that. Everyone was bringing their own snacks, nothing to fight over. And we rotated who hosted, so no arguments there either. This week it was Matty’s turn. Last week when it had been at my flat, we had picked a comedy movie to watch and ended up receiving a noise complaint from my neighbour about us being “too rambunctious”. I was hoping that we wouldn’t have the same issue to deal with this week given Matty’s much thicker walls. I was cutting up a tray of brownies that I was graciously bringing to share - one of which may or may not have been spiked with cayenne pepper just to spite Matty for last week when he mixed my bag of skittles with m+m’s - while I replayed the events of last week. The details of the movie were actually a bit of a blur, because after the few drinks that I had downed after a rough day at work, I recalled falling asleep. When I woke up, I found myself snoring on Matty’s shoulder. God, that was utterly embarrassing. Other than my snoring, to wake up cosying up to Matty? I’d rather be caught dead. But I must have been too distracted by these memories, because as I was cutting, I slipped and managed to slice open my thumb with my new knife.

  I felt the cut the instant it happened, bracing myself for what I might see before I looked down. Sure as shit, all I saw was a lot of red. The first thought to run through my head was that my brownie plan was ruined. I couldn’t serve brownies that had been doused in blood. The second was that I absolutely needed to seal this wound as soon as possible. I raced to the bathroom, grabbing a roll of gauze and wrapping it around my thumb as tightly as I could. Do I call an ambulance? No, this wasn’t an ambulance sort of emergency. Emergency, though. I should go to the emergency room. Now. But I had to let the guys know I wasn’t coming. I could see the gauze starting to turn red as I searched my phone for Matty’s contact. Fuck, I felt so bad for bailing on this movie night given it was our regular thing, but this was really not good. Really, really not good. The phone rang twice before he picked up.

  “Hey-”

“Look, I need to go to emergency.” I interrupted in a garbled rush.

“What?” He shouted down the line.

“I need to go to hospital, so I’m not gonna make it tonight.” I explained, slightly slower.

“What did you do?” He asked in an incredulous tone.

“I sliced my thumb open cutting brownies.” I just heard him laughing. “It’s not funny, Matty. I need stitches.” I frowned as I started to grab my essentials. What if they wanted to keep me in overnight? Oh my god, I was absolutely not prepared for something like this. I should have a go bag. Is that a thing normal people did? Have a go bag in case they accidentally injure themselves? Maybe smart people did.

“Do you need me to drive you?” He offered as I was contemplating what exactly I would put in a go bag.

“What? Uh, no. I’m okay. I think.” I rattled off.

“I’ll meet you there.” I heard him say. He what? Why would he want to come to the hospital?

“Wait. No, you don’t-” But he’d already hung up.

  Before I left the house, I slapped another few layers of bandage over the gauze on my thumb to try and put some pressure on this cut that was apparently bleeding like a tap by the rate it was turning things red. Driving to the hospital with a thumb as fat as mine was with all the bandages wrapped around it was not easy to say the least, but I managed to get there in one piece. Once I had gotten there, paid for my parking, and then managed to check myself into the ER, I was able to take a seat and decompress slightly. But, the peace and quiet didn’t last long, because not even five minutes after I sat down a familiar face entered through the sliding glass doors.

“Good job.” Matty said as he approached, with a slow clap for emphasis.

“Don’t patronise me.” I scoffed.

“Show me.” He said as he took a seat in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to my own.

“It’s okay-”

“Just show me what you did.” He dismissed.

“I mean, I can’t really take this stuff off-” I gestured to my half blood-soaked bandages, “-or it’ll bleed worse.”

He let out a low whistle as he raked a hand through his curls. “Bloody hell.” He muttered under his breath, before glancing up at me. “Pardon the pun.” He added with a smirk.

“Shut up. It’s really not as bad as it looks.” I lied. I was trying to play it down, to pretend like I hadn’t briefly seen how deep that knife went, but I knew that this was definitely very vital that I see a doctor very fucking soon.

He met my gaze, clearly seeing the stress I was trying to hide. “You’re not very convincing.” He chuckled.

  Despite my protests about him wanting to wait with me, Matty continued to ramble on about what he had done earlier in the day while we sat in the crowded waiting room. He also told me not to worry about cancelling on the movie night, and thanked me for trying to make brownies. If only he had known what his brownie was going to taste like. But at least he was distracting me from the weird sensation in my thumb. After about half an hour, I was called through to be seen by the nurse - which realistically just meant that I sat and waited in another room for a further ten minutes until I was finally seen by someone. When she walked in, she introduced herself and asked for a run down of the situation as she started gathering some supplies. After I had explained what I had done, she started moving towards my giant wad of bloody fabric.

“I’m gonna look away.” I warned the nurse, she just nodded in response. I felt her unravelling the bandages on my thumb, trying really hard to busy myself by studying the vision tester chart on the wall. She let out a quiet hum as she analysed the situation.

“All right. I am going to put some glue on this now to hold it, but we are going to need to anaesthetise you to properly sort this out. Is that okay?” She asked in a calm tone. They were going to knock me out? It was bad enough to need to be knocked out for?? Holy shit.

“Um, yep.” I nodded. “I suppose it’ll have to be.” I added with a nervous laugh. “When will that be?”

“As soon as they can get you in. Likely in the next few hours.” She answered.

  When I came back out of the nurse’s station, I sat back down and told Matty what they had said.

“They need to sedate you?” He asked in shock.

“I’ve apparently done quite a number on myself.” I could feel the stress building up as the realisation set in. Oh my god. I had cut off my thumb. I had cut off my thumb and now they needed to reattach it. Holy fuck. Holy fuck.

“Hey, calm down.” He reassured, placing his hand on my shoulder. “It’ll be all right.”

“But what if it’s too late? What if I cut too far? What if-”

Thankfully, Matty interrupted my downward spiral of anxiety. “They would’ve told you if that were the case. They’re going to operate, so it must be fine.” He moved to take my good hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing mind as I nodded in agreement. At least one of us was the voice of reason right now. “When are you going in?” He questioned, seeming genuinely sympathetic.

“They said as soon as possible. I just have to wait here until a theatre frees up.” I replied. He just nodded thoughtfully. “You should go back to the movie night.” I said, eventually feeling guilty that he’d already been sat waiting here for an hour.

“No.” He shook his head as he rifled through his pocket. “You want some gum?” He asked, holding a packet out in my direction.

I looked down at them apprehensively. “They’re not some ridiculous flavour, are they?”

He laughed loudly. “No, I threw the wasabi ones out.”

  It was another hour before I was finally called through to get ready for theatre. Now I was genuinely feeling pretty awful that Matty had been here this whole time. We had well and truly pushed past dinner time, he’d missed the movie, our friends were all sat at his place without him. He can’t have been having a good time stuck here with me.

“Okay, I gotta go in.” I said as I stood up.

“I’ll be here when you wake up.” He smiled up at me from his seat.

“Just go home, I’ll be fine.” I said as I gestured to the door.

“No.” He grinned.

“Go.”

“No.” His dark brown eyes bore into mine, clearly challenging me to push him further on the subject.

“I hate you, so much.” I grumbled as I heard the nurse call my name again.

“I love you, too.” He said, blowing a kiss for emphasis as I walked off.

  The doctors all reassured me that the operation was going to be quick and easy. Knock me out, stitch me up, wake me up fifteen minutes later. Easy peasy. I had never had any issues with operations, being knocked out was easy. It was the stuff you had to be awake for that was hard. True to their word, when I saw the clock when I started coming to, it had been no more than half an hour than when I last checked the time. But my god I felt groggy. My brain felt like it had been replaced with a bunch of cotton balls and my eyelids might as well have been made of lead. I glanced down at my thumb, seeing a much smaller pile of bandages on there, that were now thankfully not soaked in blood. That was nice. I then caught sight of the man sat next to my bed.

“Hey, you’re up.” Matty said quietly as he stepped over. As soon as he leaned over the bed frame, the fluorescent lights above him just illuminated his dark, curly hair. Holy shit. It looked borderline angelic. “How’re you feeling?”

“Your hair…” I mumbled as I reached out my good hand to touch it.

He seemed surprised by my actions at first, before letting my run a hand through it. “What about it?” He asked with a quiet laugh.

“It’s really soft.” I answered, genuinely quite surprised by how nice it felt. “Has it always been that soft?” I felt like I had been missing out. I could’ve been touching this hair for nearly a year now and instead I had been swapping his shampoo for ranch dressing and perfume.

  Matty seemed keen to indulge my anaesthesia haze, letting me bother him with all of my weird questions about his hair. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy. I did a lot of mean shit to him and here he was, sat with me in emergency all evening instead of hanging out with his friends. After the pranks I’d pulled, I likely didn’t deserve a friend like him. But he’d pulled them on me too. We were a pretty good pair, I suppose. And I had no idea if it was this lighting or what, but dare I say, Matty was looking pretty attractive today. Had I really just been so focused on butting heads with him that I never noticed these things before?

“Are you sure you really look this good? I feel like I must still be dreaming.” I said, pretending to shield my eyes.

He frowned, before the realisation dawned on him and his eyebrows shot up in surprise, “Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe.” I shrugged.

“Don’t use cheesy pickup lines on me.” He chuckled.

“How else am I meant to pick you up?” I scoffed as I rolled my eyes.

“Are you trying to?” He asked as a smile slowly made its way onto his face.

“Maaaaybe.” I said in an attempt to be non-committal, but then my curiosity got the better of me. “Is it working?”

“I’m gonna remind you of this when you’re properly out of the anaesthetic.” He just looked amused. Not the reaction I had hoped for. But I was too tired to keep trying to come up with clever lines.

“Okay.” I muttered, nodding softly. “Gon’ sleep now, though.” I added.

“Rest up.” He agreed. “You’re gonna need all the energy you can get to deal with me giving you shit for this tomorrow.”  

Part one

Part three

[cindersandroses]

Digital Get Down, Chapter 4

AUTHORS: cindersandroses ( losille2000 and cinderella1181)

CHAPTERS: 4/?

PAIRING: Actor!Henry Cavill/ Plus-Size OFC

GENRE: Romance/Fluff/HUMOR

FIC SUMMARY: When SuperHank met OrcPrincessPeach on the World of Warcraft message boards, it was love at first raid. Now, almost a year later, they’re ready to take the next step and meet in person. Half a world away from each other, both decide to meet in Atlanta for DragonCon, since she was already going to be there for her work as a game designer at Blizzard… never mind that she is a devout nerd. They both have to face the fact that reality is very different from a digital world.

RATING: Mature

AUTHORS NOTES: Thank you all! We meant this romp to be short, but as we get into it, it seems to be growing. We hope you are all enjoying it!

Also on AO3!

Chapter 4

Henry sat on the bed, happily watching Opal as she meticulously pulled out garment after garment and hung them up in the closet. She hummed softly as she worked, every so often stopping to squint at the yards of fabric on this skirt or that, pulling at loose threads and muttering something about needing to steam press one of them. There was something so domestic about this, even though they were in a hotel room in an unfamiliar place and still--despite getting to know each other online—trying to figure each other out.

It amazed him how much being in person changed everything; the reality had settled in that they may have talked a lot about anything and everything, but that was far different than being in person and having the physical connection with someone. They both still had a lot to learn about each other and he planned on spending every possible minute with her doing just that. There was no doubt in his mind that this was right; the feeling of peace as he watched her move around the room was like nothing he’d ever experienced with another woman.

Opal finished with her last piece—a voluminous peachy pink ball gown skirt--and moved back to the foot of the bed to sit down beside him. She was close, but not touching him; he wondered at that and all the times he noticed the almost imperceptible flinch when he reached out to touch her. Of course, he understood she didn’t have the experience with the opposite sex he did, but the reaction made him wonder if she was scared of his touch for some other reason. 

Was she? Scared of him? He couldn’t imagine scaring someone, but he supposed he came on strong at times.  And in this situation, he was a believer of instituting a bit of aversion therapy in that he tried to insinuate himself in her space. He wasn’t going to let her run away; she herself had admitted to running on more than one occasion with others.

To that end, he did not let her sit too far away for long. He gathered her in his arms and pressed his lips to her forehead, right at her hairline, smelling the coconut shampoo in her hair. She was tense for a moment, then her body relaxed, moulding against him. He wanted to kiss her—really kiss her—but considering the reaction, he knew he had to wait.

“This is going to be an excellent weekend,” he murmured. Reassurance… for her and, honestly, for him.

She chuckled. “Says the guy who only has two costumes and like twenty-five geeky shirts. We’re not going to be able to go out much incognito.”

“You’d be surprised how a guy can blend in with the crowd,” he said. “Even me.”

Opal eyed him in suspicion. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“You know how busy these weekends are,” he said. “People don’t really stop to look unless you’re flashy and in an impressive cosplay. And I will have you know I walked around San Diego Comic Con with a Guy mask and a geek shirt and no one cared. Literally, not even Will when I took a photo with him.”

“Will?”

“Smith,” Henry said. “Deadshot? Suicide Squad?”

“I know who Will Smith is!” she scoffed and playfully smacked his arm. “By the way, I am happy that you agreed to do the steampunk one with me. I know Amber thought I was crazy when I had her make you the cloak.”

“I’m glad she did it. She really made all these costumes?” Henry asked.

Opal nodded and smiled. “She taught herself to sew when she was pre-transition. Her mom and dad wouldn’t buy her girl clothes, so she saved up money for an old sewing machine from the thrift shop and started making her own.”

Though he wasn’t Amber’s greatest fan—there were some things Opal had related to him he didn’t particularly agree with—he understood their relationship was long and deep and he could no sooner understand the bond they shared as friends of twenty years than Amber could understand the bond he and Opal shared.

“Oh.” He smiled. “Well, I’m glad she did all the sewing. I did make my Phantom mask and it’s pretty badass. It was like putting a computer together, all intricate moving parts with gears and such. I was so worried about it in my luggage, I carried it on the plane.”

“Can I see it?”

“Eventually. I want you to be surprised.”

“And did you remember the signet ring?”

He wiggled his pinky by way of showing off where he would wear the aforementioned ring. “Yes, it’s in my bag.”

Opal laughed. “Who the heck has a signet ring, anyway? It’s so impossibly crusty British upper class.”

“You said it was the sexiest thing on the Phantom!”

“Sure, on the Phantom,” Opal teased. “You, my good sir, don’t need a ring to be sexy.”

She reached out for him, as though to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down to her, but she awkwardly stopped herself mid-movement, hesitating, then resting her hands in her lap instead.

He reached out and took her hands into his, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull her closer yet. She craned her neck to look up at him. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly.

“Stop apologizing,” he instructed. “You shouldn’t have to apologize for anything you want. I refuse to apologize for anything I want.”

Opal huffed. “I know. I’m just awkward.”

“You know you can touch me.” He smiled. “I will never tell you to not touch my hand or my arm or my neck or my— ”

“I get it,” she said, an edge of attitude in her tone. “Like I said, I’m awkward and I always feel like I should ask permission.”

He frowned. “Why?”

Opal looked up again, meeting his eyes for a long time without speaking. She wanted to say something, to divulge some important piece of information. He could see it on her face, but she shook it away and went another direction. “I just keep worrying that if I touch you, you’re going to be nothing more than an apparition.”

“You’re going to have to kill me to get rid of me at this point,” he admitted. “But seriously, Opal, Princess, you have my tacit permission to touch me wherever and whenever you want. If I don’t want to be touched, you’ll know. Got it?”

“Got it,” she said shakily.

She licked her lips and it took everything in his power to not devour her mouth in that moment. Maybe she wanted him to, with that reaction, but he wasn’t sure it was the right time. In fact, if he went that route, they weren’t going to be leaving the bedroom for some time, and he had already made appointments for them elsewhere.

Henry let go of her. “Good. Come on! We have a long day of pampering to get to at the spa.”

“Henry, you didn’t have to do that,” she said. “I would be perfectly happy just hanging out up here.”

“Nonsense, I wanted to. You’ll find that acts of service and gifts are one part of my love language.” He leaned in close to her ear, brushing his lips across her cheek, then the shell of her ear, before whispering, “As is physical touch.”

He delighted at the shiver that vibrated her body against his. As he moved away, he noted how her pupils had dilated in obvious lust. Never to be one to pass up the opportunity, he moved to the other and kissed that ear before purring again, “And trust me, Opal. I plan on touching you a lot.”

Opal shivered more violently, and only stopped when a moan escaped her plump lips. “Curse you and your sex on legs.”

Henry laughed and stood up, holding his hand out to her.  “Come on, Princess. We’re going to be late.”

“Heh,” she murmured, now breathless. “I suppose I never considered how disarming real-life dirty talk was going to be.”

“Princess, you’re in for a big surprise if you think that’s the extent of what you’ll hear out of my mouth.”

Opal rolled her eyes at him, straightening her shirt and smoothing out her hair, though it looked perfectly fine. It wasn’t like he’d wrecked her like he truly wanted. Because he was a gentleman. Yes. A gentleman.

A gentleman who needed a cold shower at some point.

God help him during the couples massage he’d booked.

###

The spa itself was like any other spa Henry had ever been to—sedate taupe walls with muted lighting and the softest flute music floating through the air. Nothing special. However, Opal breathed in deeply as they entered, and he turned to see her eyes flutter closed for a brief second. Her lips quirked up in a beatific smile.

“Already enjoying it?” he asked.

She shrugged. “It just seems relaxing. I’ve never been to a fancy spa before.”

“Really?”

“Yep,” she said, glancing around the room again. “Apparently this is going to be a weekend of firsts.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but an overeager woman came out from behind the front desk.

“Oh, Mr. Cavill,” interrupted the woman, already effusive in her manufactured charm. “Welcome! We’ve been expecting you. We do hope your trip to Atlanta was uneventful.”

He inclined his head in recognition. “It was fine, but I’ve already been here for work. My girlfriend is the one who just arrived this morning.”

At the mention of the word “girlfriend,” the brunette clerk turned her wide, starstruck eyes to the woman beside him. Opal’s grip on his hand loosened, as if she meant to pull away from him, but he squeezed tighter to reassure her. Clearly, the interaction at check in hadn’t helped issues any. What’s more, he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed the slight change in the clerk’s demeanor when she looked at their clasped hands and then at Opal. Opal wasn’t imagining things.

But this, also, wasn’t something new to him. He could be with any woman and other heterosexual women always did the doubletake, sizing up their competition. It was natural and unfortunately overrepresented in the land of celebrity when the public saw public figures as their commodity, and not as a real person.

A real person who could care less about a brunette flipping her hair flirtatiously over a shoulder. He wasn’t going to mess around with a hamburger when he already had a steak, just like Paul Newman once said.

Opal wasn’t used to it, however, and the previously relaxed grin on her lips flattened into a hard line. The small muscles in her hand had tensed at the other woman’s worsening reaction. There was a split second where he thought Opal might bolt, so he quickly switched tactics, wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to his side. He kissed the top of her head, again feeling her tense.

When he looked again for the clerk, he found her back behind the desk, pulling something up on her computer. Business as usual, then. “Right, Mr. Cavill, we have you both down for the couple’s package?

“That’s right,” he said, pressing his hand lightly to the small part of Opal’s back to guide her forward.

“Okay, great.” The clerk’s fake smile was back on her face. “They will call for you momentarily.”

He nodded in understanding and glanced down at Opal again. She turned her face up to look at him, her bright eyes blinking at him. “Does that include massages?”

“That’s generally like the number one thing to do at a spa,” he explained.

“There’s not going to be, uh—” she paused and swallowed hard around a lump in her throat. “What if my massage therapist is male?”

Henry snorted a laugh and lifted his hands up in front of her, flexing his fingers. “Princess, these are the only male hands that are going to be touching you this weekend.”

“What if there’s a woma—”

“Will you stop worrying?” he chided good-naturedly. “I requested one female and one male. They do this on purpose just for this reason. Though, there are those that don’t care.”

“I just…”

He frowned. “What is it?”

“I’m not naturally good with people touching me,” she admitted, though it was soft and breathy, as though said without enough air in her lungs.

He desperately wanted to push further into that discussion, but their attendants came out to guide them to the changing rooms. Opal smiled shyly, blushed, but instead of retreating from him, she curled herself against his side as though he were her protector from the Big Bad Massage Therapists.

And he really liked that. It played to that caveman hindbrain of his; he could play the protector. No, scratch that he wanted to be Protector, with a capital P.

Whoever or whatever created this touch shyness in her would need to be dealt with, too. However, it did lend important context to her unluckiness in love. Most guys would take her reactions as turn offs or too much work and run, but he didn’t see it like that. Maybe it was because they’d had more time to develop such a strong emotional connection online. He wanted to make it work. He wanted to make it all better. So, he planned to put in the effort it required to understand.

“I’ll see you in a few, darling,” he murmured.

“Okay,” she said, the shakiness of nerves evident in her tone. He watched her walk, forgetting just a moment of his concern and instead zeroed in on the way her hips moved in the tight denim that encased them. A thought quickly floated across his mind that he must find the underlying cause of Opal’s touch shyness as soon as was humanly possible. He wasn’t sure how long he could abstain from truly touching her the way he wanted to—or feeling guilty each time she recoiled.

The female therapist must have said something funny because Opal tossed her head back and laughed, defusing her nerves and snapping his attention to the situation. Opal and the therapist turned for one last glance back at him. It relaxed him to see the smile return to Opal’s lips.

When they were finally behind a closed door, Henry followed the slight male massage therapist back into the changing room. When he initially made the appointment, he specifically requested a male and female therapist team; he did it at first because he didn’t want Opal to get the wrong impression about another woman’s hands on him. And though it was unlikely she would have had a male therapist anyway, as there were so few in the profession, he certainly didn’t want to see another man’s hands rubbing all over her. Now he was glad he thought ahead.

He stripped down and replaced his clothes with the robe and slippers provided by the spa. As with all standard sized robes he’d ever worn, the sleeves were tight against his biceps and the tie barely closed the robe, but it did the job.  When he entered the warm, lowly lit treatment room, he sat in one of the chairs and waited for Opal. He smiled when she walked in, noting how tightly she clutched the edges of the soft robe between her breasts.

“Ready for this?” he asked.

Her eyes snapped to his, and she gave him a manic little chuckle. “Did you know you have to be completely naked?”

Henry grinned.  “I did.”

“They let me keep my undies on, but still,” she said.

Henry stood up and went over to her. “Opal, maybe I should have said this before… if you don’t want to do the massage, you can choose anything else from their services. This is supposed to be a fun, relaxing experience. If it’s not—”

She quickly pressed her fingers to his lips, stopping him mid-sentence. “Stop, I’m fine. Really. If I can’t take my clothes off for this, how am I going to in 24… 48… whatever hours?”

“Well, you’d be more comfortable with me after more time together, for one,” he said after taking her hand away from his lips.

She sighed. “I just don’t have the body to be showing my curves off to everyone, you know?”

“I think your curves are lovely. There are a few I want to become better acquainted with,” he said.

The visible part of her chest flushed bright red as he slid his fingers down the open edge of her robe. He teased her by pulling it away from her body slightly, testing how far he could take this without her fainting. Her breathing had already become shallow, her eyes had closed, and even though he wasn’t touching her body, he felt the soft rhythmic whisper of fabric against his fingers as her heart pounded against it.

“As a matter of fact,” he started, “I plan on getting to know these curves better this evening. If you’ll let me, of course.”

Her long eyelashes fluttered open to reveal sky blue eyes that glittered in the low light. There was a mixture of lust and fear there, wrestling with each other. She gave him a slight nod and bit her lower lip, no doubt as a nervous reaction, but he had no control over the pleasure signal it created in his own body. Henry smiled and stepped back, granting her a brief reprieve as he moved strategically behind the massage table.

Her assessing gaze dropped down the length of his robed body, her lips slightly parted, still breathing shallowly. He took the opportunity, holding her gaze with his, to let his robe drop. She might have issues with her body, but he had no problem showing off all that God gave him, as well as all the parts he had worked very long hours in the gym to develop over the years.

Her squeak and deeper blush were worth it, but to her credit, she didn’t turn away. He turned so she could get a better eyeful of his arse as he slid under the warm sheets on the table. He turned his head to find her frozen in place.

He nodded at the tie on her robe… the one her fingers clutched like a lifeline.  “Go ahead, Princess,” he purred. “Your turn.”

“Not a chance, Cavill. Turn your head,” she said.

He let out an exasperated sigh and did as she asked. He wanted so badly to look at her, to drink in her curves, but he had to be true to his word and follow her lead. It was the only way she was going to trust him—that much was clear. So, he rested his head on his folded arms with eyes closed and listened to her shimmy under her own blanket.

When she finished, he opened his eyes. “You doing okay?”

She nodded. “I am. I know I don’t seem like it, but I really am thrilled to be here with you. It’s a lot to take in all at once. You, all the months of talking and not working out who you were, and just, I don’t know. Like I said before, I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and you won’t be real, and you’ll just evaporate like a dream.”

He reached his hand out to take hers. He kissed the back of it. “I’m very much here, and I’m very much into being with you. I’m glad you didn’t leave this morning when you found out who I was.”

She laughed. “I don’t think my legs would have worked well enough to leave, anyway. But, still, I’m not that cruel. I’m not just going to get up and leave. I may be hella nervous, but I’m made of stronger stuff than that.”

“I know you are,” he said finally, squeezing her hand.

Opal shrugged and grinned mischievously. “Besides, where would I get a hotel room at this point in the game? You’re pretty much stuck with me, roomie.”

Henry laughed. “There’s no other person I’d rather be stuck with.”

“You say that now…” she teased.

“Unless there are hidden tentacles under that blanket, you’re not going anywhere,” he said. “And even then, I’d think twice.”

Opal giggled for a long time at that, finally settling down, but not before saying to him, “No one would believe me if I told them I was waiting for a couples massage with you and we were talking about tentacle porn.”

He meant to respond to that, but one of the therapists knocked on the door to begin their massages, effectively ending their conversation. At least they had conversation to fall back on—good conversation, fun conversation. That had always been their strength as they got to know each other online.

If there was communication, then anything was possible.