#and all the shit about having to show doctors my arms for medical stuff is literally traumatizing for me. it’s so terrifying every time it

[empresskylo]

beneath the mask ✩ chapter 3 ⬅ch. 2

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | afab!reader. kinda mean!ghost. wc 2.5k. ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | i do not have a tag list.

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

the following week involved you being the only medic on base and having to treat every soldier on your own; briefing sessions with soap; a few awkward run-ins with ghost; and a shit load of anxiety.

you couldn’t get over the fact that you were about to walk side by side with the most dangerous men in the world on the most important mission you’ve ever been on. soap was acting like it was no big deal—they do this kind of stuff all the time, he had said. you had to remind soap that you were new to this division and weren’t exactly a skilled killer like the rest of the men. you were used to helping wounded men when they were carted back to base, not being in on the action.

“soap,” you whined as the larger man refused to let you take a break from your current training match. “i wasn’t built for this,” you said dramatically, collapsing on the mats beneath you. 

soap chuckled, his hands resting on his hips. “i’m just tryin’ to prepare ya. ghost isn’t gonna go so easy on you.”

“ghost?” you asked, sitting upright–a bit faster than someone who wasn’t constantly thinking about their lieutenant would.

soap stuck a hand out and grabbed yours, heaving you up to stand before him again. 

“ghost insisted on makin’ sure we all met his standards.”

you knew this was about you and gaz specifically, even if he didn’t say it. these men were already the best of the best, that's how they got recruited into this task force. but gaz being recently hurt, and you not coming from a combat background, was probably plaguing his thoughts. 

“oh, wonderful,” you said sarcastically. you were almost positive soap was oblivious to your weird dynamic with ghost, but you couldn’t be one hundred percent certain; soap’s perceptiveness could surprise you sometimes.

you downed your water and stretched a bit more waiting for your imminent doom. 

gaz approached you, his arm outstretched over his head. 

“how’s your hand?” you asked him.

gaz released his stretch with a satisfied grunt and then held up his now unbandaged hand, smiling. 

“and your ribs?”

“still a bit sore. just glad they’re not broken.”

you smiled. “just don’t go too hard training today, okay?”

gaz mock saluted you. “yes, doctor.” you rolled your eyes. 

gaz had pulled you into a sparring match, trying to get your reflexes to actually function properly for when you’d be out in the field with the men.

you growled in frustration as gaz got another killing blow lined up. 

“dead. again,” he said with a laugh. 

“glad you find my suffering entertaining.” 

you felt your body tense and you knew that ghost had just strolled into the training room. you had a weird way of sensing whenever he was around. it was like he made the air thicker of any room he walked in to.

you tried to keep your focus on gaz. he grabbed your hands and helped you adjust your hand wraps that were starting to loosen around your knuckles. your eyes flickered over gaz’s shoulder and you spotted him.

his eyes were already on you and you felt your blood pressure drastically rise. you immediately looked back to gaz and tried to pay attention to what he was saying to you. 

“ready to go again?” he asked when he decided your hands were wrapped properly. you nodded.

after what felt like an eternity, ghost appeared beside the two of you, observing as gaz was in the process of showing you a new defense move.

gaz reached around you with his foot, knocking you off balance and sending you colliding with the mat. 

“jesus,” you mumbled, both amazed and annoyed with him. 

gaz chuckled and reached out a hand to help you up. you were impressed at his composed and collected attitude knowing what was about to happen in a few days' time. you, personally, couldn’t get your heart to stop racing worrying about everything that might go wrong. 

you ignored ghost’s eyes on you as gaz tried to demonstrate the move he just did once again. 

you attempted everything he showed you, repairing the order of the stances in your head as you executed each one, and you sent him flying on his back. 

“shit, nice job,” gaz praised. 

you helped him up when a looming presence from behind you startled you.

“oh!” you jumped, looking up at ghost who was only inches from your chest. “hi, lt.”

ghost was wearing one of his thinner balaclavas again, paired with a long-sleeved black shirt–that disappointingly didn’t have its sleeves rolled up to show off his tattoos–and dark tactical pants. he was a new level of intimidating without all his gear on. you felt like your body was going to melt from the heat he was putting off.

“she’s never gonna learn like that,” he grunted out, directly his words at gaz but holding your gaze. 

you knew gaz was letting you knock him on his ass, but how else would you understand the basics of the moves he was teaching you? if he blocked you and went on defense every time you went to try, you wouldn’t be able to learn anything. gaz had years of training on you.

gaz mumbled something about taking a break and you began to panic. shit.

“open your legs,” ghost demanded. 

a sudden blaze of heat raced up your chest and to your face. your eyes must have turned to moons because ghost’s foot jutted out to kick between your own and widen your stance as if to tell you to get your head out of the gutter.

you adjusted your feet and felt gaz slip off behind the two of you. 

just you and ghost now. great. 

“your waist feeling okay?” you asked, pointing towards the area of his wound from the week prior. 

he nodded. “good as new.”

“good. that’s good,” you said awkwardly. 

you both looked at one another, your cheeks warming, before ghost cut you out of your daydream. “arms should always be at the ready.” 

you lifted your own and did as he said, mirroring him, and taking on a solid but readying posture.

“now, try to hook your leg behind my own.”

you nodded, the heat from earlier subsided just to be replaced with the rushing sound of your heart beating in your ear. you prayed ghost didn’t have super hearing, but you wouldn’t put it past him.

you dipped down slightly and tried to get your leg to wrap behind ghost’s, aiming to knock him backward. 

before your foot even made it where you wanted it to go, ghost had spun you around and sent you stumbling back. 

“again,” he demanded. 

you took in a breath before approaching back up to him and going at it again. 

he blocked your attack and you tripped over his feet and fell to the mat. 

“again.”

you felt the sweat bead on your forehead, out of both anger and exertion.

and again he knocked you back. 

“this isn’t going to help!” you finally said, a scowl on your face. 

“don’t like bein’ pushed? think any of those men out there will give a damn about that? think they’ll give a shit that you’re just a medic?”

you let out an irritated breath. “i just don’t think training me like this will get me anywhere.”

“oh, and how would you like t’be trained then?”

you stared at him in silence. 

“should i let you tackle me to t’ground?” his voice was deeper than earlier, sending shivers up your spine. “is catering to your ego that important you’d risk your life?”

“this has nothing to do with my ego.” your voice felt faint as you struggled to come up with an argument. you were frustrated, sure. but he was right in a way. any bad guy you cross out in the field isn’t going to give a shit that you’re a medic and not a trained soldier. and you did not want to fucking die. 

“no? then go again.”

you brushed off your pants and readied your stance, going at him again. in an agile ebbed movement, you went flying to the ground. again.

you propped yourself up on your elbows and glared at him. frustrated beyond belief, and exhausted from already training for hours today. you did something you wouldn’t have normally done if you weren’t so peeved off. you sprung to your feet and rushed into him. ghost caught your hand but you spun around behind him, making him grunt as your foot collided with the back of his knee. 

he bent forward and you jumped onto his back. he had to release your hand in fear of choking himself out. ghost was so caught off guard that he sank to his knees. you caught your breath, still clinging to him. you may not have got him to go all the way down, but still, you managed something. 

“now if you’ll–” ghost cut your words short, shifting his weight so you slid sideways and he grabbed your waist and sent you sprawling out before him. before your back hit the mat, you grabbed his shirt, yanking him downward with you. his hands caught himself on either side of your head, his hips between your legs, his torso almost touching yours as you breathed heavily. 

ghost’s eyes bore into yours as he loomed over you. heat rushed to your face as you felt his hips pressing against your own, trapping you below his impressive weight. your hands were still tied up in his shirt, your heart racing out of your chest. 

“that hurt,” you mumbled.

“it was supposed to.” his voice was far softer than you’ve ever heard it before as if you stole the breath right from his chest. goosebumps immediately covered your arms and you hoped to the gods that he didn’t notice. 

you were at a loss for words as he held his position. “now how will you get out of this, pet?” he provoked. 

devoid of logic, you bucked your hips up against him, trying to wrangle your way free. ghost essentially growled above you, sending fluttering vibrations through your chest. you tried to roll out from under him, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he let you. your positions quickly changed as you used all your muscles to turn him on his back. you straddled him, heaving again at the amount of force you had to exert to move his body.

your hands were resting on his chest and you felt your entire body go hot. there was no way you were straddling ghost, sitting right above his belt, your hands pressed flat against him, and his hands… his hands loose on your hips, edging towards your thighs. 

in pure embarrassment you quickly stumbled off of him, not even offering to give him a hand to stand back up. 

you thought for sure he would call it a day, probably irritated at you getting so close. those were definitely not proper techniques you executed back there. 

to your surprise, ghost grunted, stood, and mumbled, “again.”

you couldn’t help the displeased groan that left your lips. “ghost, please. i’ve been doing this all morning.”

he didn’t like the way his chest tightened momentarily at the sound of you begging him. 

he could see the exhaustion on your face. in a sort of compromise, he wanted one more spar. he slid the knife from his holster on his thigh and caught it expertly in his fingers. “unarm me,” he demanded. 

you looked at him with hesitation. “if ya unarm me, y’can be done for the day. i won't even fight back.”

something painful echoed in your chest. you just wanted to get away from him. why was he dragging out your time together? he didn’t even like you. he should just tell price they couldn’t risk taking you along on the mission. 

you mentally groaned and slowly stepped closer. ghost readied his stance. 

you darted to the left and he deftly blocked you. 

then you ducked down, coming up on the side he held the weapon and his arm stopped yours. you grunted before slipping around him and shoving him back. he stumbled a few steps and you dodged his arms. 

ghost spun to meet you, grabbing your wrist with his free hand, both of you stumbling so your back collided with the wall. 

with heavy breaths, ghost pinned your arm beside your head. your other hand struggled, but you managed to grip his knife and fling it out of his hand, sending it rattling on the hard floor away from you two. 

ghost’s hips were almost against yours, his body trapping you against the wall. your head clouded with so many unwanted thoughts about his chest pressed against your own. the way his body traced yours like a phantom.

“next time, try to hold on to the weapon you disarm. because now, you’re defenseless. and hate to break it to ya, but you against any man of my size, unarmed… you’re dead.”

your mouth hung open slightly as you caught your breath. you could feel ghost’s ungloved hands lingering by your waist. you nodded, unable to speak as you felt his fingers fluttering against your skin where your shirt began to ride up. it was almost like he was purposefully trying to touch you. 

your eyes flickered down to where his hands were and ghost immediately backed away. he gave you one look over and went to pick up his knife. 

“enough for today,” he grumbled, a tensing sense of aggravation filling the air. 

you straightened your clothes out, walking back onto the mat. “so that’s it?”

ghost turned in a way that made it look like he was forcing his body to move. “need me t’tell you how good of a job you did? pat you on your back and tell ya you’re gonna be fine next week?”

you glared at him. “no. i just–”

“you won’t. you’re gonna get yourself killed out there.” you sucked in a sharp breath at his words. you watched as his eyes avoided your own. “be back here tomorrow to train more with soap.”

you nodded even though he wasn’t looking at you. he hesitated another moment, almost like he was debating on saying something else, but then he turned and left you alone. 

you sank down onto the mat, sprawling out backward and breathing deeply. your body was sore and throbbing from all the collisions you took today. 

fuck. you had one chance to prove to ghost you were capable. that price trusting you to come along was the right choice. but you just made a fool of yourself. and ghost thought you nothing more than a weak link in their unit. you were going to get them all killed. 

you closed your eyes, a tear sliding down your sweat-stained cheeks.

chapter 4 ➡

[shakespeareanwannabe]

As You Wish, Chapter 2

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister, reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, verbal arguing, swearing, medical misinformation (I did my best y'all), pregnancy

Sharp Memorial Hospital, 12 Years Ago

“Buttercup!”

She gasped as the curtain to her room was drawn back quickly, revealing a stressed-out looking lieutenant and a sheepish looking older brother.

“Jake! I’m okay, I swear…”

“You passed out!” Jake exclaimed, rounding the hospital bed to stand by her side. “And they called Bob?”

She sighed, her fingers tapping anxiously at the tape securing the IV to her arm. “I’ve been here for, like, four months, babe. And it all happened kinda quickly, so I haven’t exactly had a chance to change my emergency contact yet.”

Jake reached out to grip her hand and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Do me a favour and at least add me to that list? I almost had a fucking heart attack when I landed, and Bob told me that you were in the damn hospital.”

Bob pushed his glasses up his nose as she turned her attention to him. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he muttered. “Are you okay, Buttercup?”

She grinned at the begrudging use of the nickname. Ever since Jake had bestowed it upon her that night, it was like her real name ceased to exist. Everyone called her Buttercup, despite Bob’s best efforts.

“I’m fine, you two worrywarts,” she rolled her eyes fondly as Bob scoffed and Jake squeezed her hand more firmly. “I got a little lightheaded at the bar and turned a little too quickly on my barstool. I was only out for like a second, but Penny wouldn’t let it go. Something about Mav being overprotective of his squad or something. She’s somewhere out there—” she motioned vaguely out the curtained doorway. “—filling out paperwork.”

“What were you doing at the bar?” Jake seated himself on the edge of her bed, green eyes turning stern. “You promised me that you were going to take it easy today, remember? I didn’t drag your ass to the doctor yesterday because you said you were “almost over this stupid flu”, and I only agreed because you promised you’d do jack shit today.”

Buttercup pouted at him, crossing her arms as best she could with one arm hosting the IV and Jake not releasing her hand. “I got bored,” she mumbled. “Plus, I thought the quick walk in the sun and fresh air would do me good!”

Jake groaned. “You’ll be the death of me, I swear to god. Next time, at least call someone to go with you.”

“Sure, Jake. I’m sure the Navy will understand you needing to take your girlfriend on a walk,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

“Clearly,” Jake shot back, gesturing around the curtained-off room.

“Alright, easy, you two,” Bob sighed, stepping further into the room. “Seresin, you can’t expect her to wait around for us to do stuff. What do you expect her to do when we get deployed?” Jake’s face fell for a split second before smoothing out into that unflappable mask he had mastered long ago. “And kiddo? Bagman might not show it ever, but he is a human being, which means he can be scared, and I’m pretty sure the news that you landed yourself here scared a decade off him. So, go easy on him, will you?”

She looked at her brother for a moment before sighing, nodding slightly, and turning back to Jake. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. “I’ll be more careful.”

He squeezed it back, lifting their linked hands to press a kiss to the back of her hand. “I’m sorry too. I’m not tryin’ to be controlling, I just…I don’t wanna see you hurt.”

Bob huffed and took a step back. “I’m going to go find Penny and see if she needs help with that paperwork.”

“Thanks Bobby,” she smiled softly at him. He winked playfully at her before turning his back and strolling out of the room, tugging the curtain closed behind him.

“What has the doctor said?” Jake brushed his hand over her cheek, tugging her attention back to him. “Any more dizzy spells? Do you need anything?”

“Easy, tiger, one question at a time. The doctor said I was pretty dehydrated from all the vomiting I’ve done over the past couple of days, and that was what probably caused the blackout. But he had a nurse draw some blood and they’re testing to see if it could be anything else.” She rubbed his arm reassuringly. “I’m a little dizzy still, but the fluids are helping. And I’m still pretty nauseated but they don’t want to give me anything until they get the test results back.” Jake nodded, his jaw ticking just once as his eyes raked over her face. “I’m okay, Jake. I promise.”

Buttercup kept up the soft pressure of her hand running up and down his arm until the mask he wore slipped and he sighed deeply. “I’m sorry I was a dick. I just want you to feel better.”

“I know, baby. I’m sorry I got snippy.”

“No, you shouldn’t have to apologize. You’re the one in the hospital bed.” His thumb gently rubbed back and forth along the back of her hand. “God, I hate fighting with you though.”

A slow grin tugged at the edges of her lips. “Me too. Especially when I’m stuck in this bed and we can’t make up properly.”

A low groan rumbled in his chest as he leaned in closer. “Don’t tempt me.”

Peals of laughter tumbled from her lips as she angled her head to brush her nose against his. “I don’t suppose a kiss would tide you over, Lieutenant Insatiable?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, darlin’. We’d have to try it out.”

Jake’s lips chased hers as he leaned over her, pushing her back against the flimsy mattress with the force of his kiss. Her tongue traced the seam of his mouth, and she felt a bolt of electricity spark through her body when his mouth stretched into a smile against hers. He linked their fingers together as she deepened the kiss, his free hand coming around to cradle the back of her neck.

“Alright, Miss Floyd, why don’t we go over those test results?”

Jake pulled away as a doctor clad in purple scrubs hustled into the room, her hands rubbing together as the scent of sanitizer wafted over them.

“Hey, doctor. Sorry, we didn’t meet earlier. Lieutenant Jake Seresin,” Jake greeted, his mask sliding back into place as he stretched one arm out to shake her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lieutenant. And it’s nice to meet you as well, Miss Floyd. I’m Dr. Friedman and I’ll be taking over your case,” the woman greeted, shaking his hand before turning to fiddle with some equipment. “I hope you don’t mind; we just have a few more tests to run.”

“N-no, that’s fine…” Buttercup shrugged uneasily. “Did something happen to Dr. Scott? I thought he was the one handling my case today?”

“Dr. Scott is just fine. He got called into an all hands on deck situation and, since I was already working with a regular patient of mine down here in the ED, he passed your case off to me since it falls under my specialty. Do you mind lifting your gown for me, dear?”

As the doctor turned, Jake’s keen green eyes darted between three different things. One, the ultrasound wand in the doctor’s hand. Two, the medieval looking metal device she had placed next to his girlfriend on her bed. And three, the neat white stitching on the breast of her scrubs that read Dr. Laurie Friedman, Doctor of Obstetrics and Gynecology.

“Dr. Friedman?” Jake felt his heart sputter, then race in his chest as he squeezed Buttercup’s hand. “You’re a…I mean, your specialty…” He looked down at Buttercup, but she was staring at the white stitching as well.

“Yes, Lieutenant. As I’m sure Dr. Scott told you, Miss Floyd’s blood and urine tests came back positive for hcG, so he called for an OB consult. Since I was already here, I figured I would pop in and run the tests for him while he’s dealing with the overflow of patients we just received. This will be a little cold, dear,” the doctor soothed, draping a paper towel over Buttercup’s underwear before squeezing the gel onto her stomach. “Now, if the blood and urine tests aren’t lying to us, we should…” She moved the wand around, either obtuse to or completely ignoring the look on her patient’s (and the lieutenant’s) face. “There!”

She turned the screen to face the young couple. “Your blood test confirmed the pregnancy, but the high levels of hcG in your blood gave Dr. Scott pause. There’s baby number one…” she pointed to a tiny speck on the screen. “And there…is baby number two.”

The first week of living in the isolation cabin (affectionately known as ‘The Brig’) was absolute misery. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, the water in the lake was cool and clear, and Abby and Charlie could appreciate none of it, stuck as they were doing clean up chores in the kitchen. Amelia had been assigned to supervision duty, which was mostly making sure the girls did less arguing and more cleaning.

The nights were even worse, with the girls either ignoring each other or screaming the cabin down with insults and taunts. Amelia had also spent that first week sleeping on the small stoop of the cabin in a hammock, or, at least, trying to sleep between arguments.

The only reprieve the girls got was when they headed down to the dining hall and got to sit with their friends. Breakfast, lunch and dinner found Charlie loudly complaining to her friend, Ryann, about how unfair the whole situation was, while Abby sat with Max, and Isabelle clear across the dining hall, her friends doing their best to remind her to stay strong, that she was only barred from group activities for another week, that they would try to sneak her back into their cabin in a few weeks when Penny and Amelia had cooled off a bit. Amelia spent mealtimes hiding in her mother’s office, downing headache medication, and trying to talk her mother out of whatever plan she had concocted.

The second week found the girls at an uneasy truce. Chores duty was quiet, but all the work got done. Evenings were dead silent, the girls opting to ignore each other instead of arguing.

Both girls were excited to go back to group activities on Monday, only to open the cabin door that morning to find dark clouds covering the sun, booming thunder in the distance, and rain falling in ice cold sheets.

“I suppose group activities will be cancelled today,” Abby muttered as she turned to grab her raincoat.

“You think Penny and Amelia will let us join our cabins for rainy day activities?” Charlie grumbled as she surveyed the mucky landscape. “Hell, I’d be okay doing outdoor activities in this! I thought this was supposed to show us what our family members go through in the military? I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t cancel a war because of a little rain.”

Abby giggled in spite of herself. “If they did that, there would never have been any wars in England. It’s always raining there.”

“Eww. That must suck.”

“It really does.”

The two girls locked eyes for a moment before quickly looking away.

“She’s still stuck up! You don’t want to be friends with her!” Charlie thought to herself, pulling on her own raincoat.

“She’s rude and uncouth. Anyone worth being friends with would never say such horrible things. Or try to get into a physical fight with you!” Abby breathed as she held the door open for a drenched Amelia.

“Sorry girls, but you’re not going down to the dining hall today. It’s all flooded, so all campers will be eating in their cabins,” Amelia explained quickly, handing them bottles of juice and a tray of fruit and sandwiches. “I’ve gotta get back to keep an eye on everyone. Please, please promise me you’ll get along today? I’ll be back later with lunch and dinner, and I really don’t want to have to clean up any bloodshed.”

“We promise…”

“Thank you!”

The door swung shut behind her as Amelia took off up the path back to the main camp.

“I’m, uh…I’m gonna have my breakfast over here while I read,” Charlie murmured, awkwardly making eye contact before shuffling away to her bed on one side of the room.

Abby nodded, taking her own breakfast over to her bed and staring out the window before pulling out her scrap book.

Amelia popped back in a few hours later, carrying more sandwiches for lunch, surprise colouring her features at the lack of arguing and tension between the campers.

“You two are handling this better than some of the other kids,” she commented, placing the tray down. “I’ll be back around six with dinner, okay?”

Without stopping to hear their response, she turned and dashed back out the door, just as a gust of wind blew the door wide open, sending everything that wasn’t pinned down in the room flying.

“Crap!” Charlie slammed her book shut quickly as the pages started to rustle. Abby squealed as the pictures in the collage she was working on were strewn about wildly, dancing in the wind.

“Help me with the door!” Charlie cried, bolting over to the creaking wooden door and trying to heave it shut. Her fingernails scrabbled against the wood as she tried to get a good grip on the handle as the door strained against her grip, pulling her this way and that.

“Hold on, I’ve got you!” Abby seized the door handle and they leaned all their weight against the door, sighing in relief as they finally heard the faint click as it shut.

“Th-thanks…” Charlie panted, her arms trembling slightly.

“No…no problem,” Abby sagged against the wall. “You looked like you almost had it though. You’re pretty strong.”

Charlie shrugged. “I work on my dad’s ranch. Obviously, I can’t do a lot of the dangerous jobs, but even the easy stuff takes a lot of strength.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Abby offered, sinking to the floor against the wall. “Does your mum help on the ranch too?”

Charlie looked away as she sank to the floor across from her, feeling the anger rise and then fall inside of her, her body too tired to let it take hold. “No…she doesn’t. I…I don’t know who my mom is. It’s just me, my dad, and my uncles,” she admitted quietly.

“Oh…I…I’m sorry,” Abby felt the blood rush to her cheeks. “I didn’t know. But…it’s okay! My mum always says that every family looks different, and it doesn’t affect how much they love each other.”

“Easy for her to say,” Charlie muttered, looping her arms around her legs, and resting her head against her knees.

Abby bit back an angry retort. She was so tired of fighting, mentally exhausted from the constant sparring with her new roommate. Maybe her mum had been right and fighting back wasn’t the way to go.

“She started saying that to me when I was five years old or so. At least, that’s when I think I started asking about my dad. I…I don’t know who he is either.”

Charlie lifted her head, looking at the girl in front of her. “You don’t?”

Abby shook her head. “For as long as I can remember, it’s been me, my mom, my aunt, and my uncle. But not, like, married aunt and uncle. He’s my mom’s brother, and my aunt is his best friend.”

“Oh…” Charlie looked down, biting her lip. “I guess that means my comment about mommy and daddy buying you riding lessons really sucked, huh?”

“It did. But I shouldn’t have called you a cornfed hick, either.” Abby flushed. “I don’t know why I said that. My mom and uncle are from Kansas, so it’s not like they’re from anywhere fancy.”

“Kansas? Then why do you sound so…Downton Abbey?”

Abby giggled. “My mum moved to London when I was just a baby. She says it was just for a job, but I think she wanted to get away from my dad too. Every time I ask about him, she gets really anxious and sad, my Uncle Bob gets really angry, and my Aunt Natasha has to distract everyone. Eventually, I just stopped asking. But she did promise to talk about him when I get home, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed for answers.”

“My dad does the same thing!” Charlie gasped, moving closer. “I ask about my mom and he gets this really sad look in his eyes, then goes into his office for a few hours! Uncle Roo will eventually go drag him out but then we just pretend I never asked. Uncle Javy acts like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t want to hurt my dad, so he just tells me that all my questions will be answered when I get older.”

“I hate that!” Abby shot onto her knees. “I’m almost 12! How much older do they expect me to get?”

“Right?” Charlie copied her kneeling stance. “I swear, if I don’t get answers on October 11th, I’m going to scream!”

Abby fell back on her heels, almost as though the door had been wrenched open again and she’d been blown back by a gust of wind. “Y-your birthday is October 11th?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“So is mine!”

Charlie blinked at her. Then she blinked again. Then, a third time. “I…am going to go back to reading my book.”

Abby’s shoulders rose with the force of her sigh. “Charlie, why do you keep avoiding this? We look completely alike, we have the same birthday, you have a dad, and I have a mom! Do you know what that all adds up to?”

“One hell of a coincidence,” Charlie replied huffily, picking up her book and leafing through the pages to find where she left off.

“Charlie, come on! You can’t actually believe that!”

Abby waited for a response, but all she got was Charlie raising her book to eye level in order to block her from view.

“Charlie? Please, you know there’s more to it than that!”

Charlie rolled over to face the other direction and Abby felt the anger bolt through her at ten thousand volts.

“Stop. Ignoring. Me!” she stomped around to the other side of Charlie’s bed and wrenched the book away from her.

“Hey! Give me that!” Charlie jumped out of bed as Abby ran over to her side of the cabin.

“No! Not until we figure this out!”

“Figure what out?” Charlie groaned. “We don’t look that much alike, single parent households aren’t that rare, and there are like a billion people on this planet, so obviously some are going to share a birthday!”

“Oh, come on! It’s way more than that!”

Charlie stomped over towards her and shook her head, her blond braid whipping around her face. “No. It’s not. Now give me back my book or I’ll—”

“Or you’ll what?” Abby hopped onto her bed and held the book high in the air.

“I’ll…” Charlie lunged and grabbed Abby’s scrapbook from where it had fallen on the floor. “I’ll hold this hostage until you give it back!”

“No!” Abby gasped. “Please, no! That’s important to me!”

Charlie shrugged. “And my book is important to me. I need something to read, so I guess I’ll just have to make do with this.”

Charlie retreated back onto her side of the cabin and flipped the book open to the first page.

“Fine! Here, take it!” Abby yelled, jumping off the bed and racing over to hand her the book. “Just please, give it back!”

Charlie’s hand shook as she pushed her novel off the scrapbook and onto the bed, her fingers tracing the outline of the figures that were smiling from the picture that decorated the first page.

“Charlie?” Abby asked, half desperate to get her scrapbook back and half confused. “What’s wrong?”

“Why do you have a picture of my uncles in your scrapbook?” she whispered.

“What? That’s a picture of my mum, Auntie Nat, and Uncle Bob,” Abby explained, pointing to each person in turn.

“Not them…” Charlie spoke softly, as though even one decibel too loud would shatter her. “Them.” Charlie pointed at two of the figures on the fringe of the photo. One, a moustachioed man in a pair of aviators, and the other a tall black man with a bright smile and an “I Love Las Vegas” baseball cap covering his cropped black hair. “That’s my Uncle Rooster and my Uncle Javy.”

“What?”

Charlie handed the book back before scrambling to her backpack, digging inside to pull out a folder. “This is my favourite picture of my dad and my uncles. My dad doesn’t know I have it though. I found it when I was fooling around with Uncle Javy, and he gave it to me. He made me promise never to tell my dad that I even knew it existed. I…I think it’s from my dad’s wedding to my mom. Uncle Javy made it seem that way, anyway.”

Charlie opened the folder and pulled out her photo. “That’s my dad, and see? There’s Uncle Roo and Uncle Javy.”

Abby’s shaky finger traced over two other figures who had their arms around each other on the other side of ‘Uncle Roo’. “That’s my Uncle Bob and my Aunt Natasha. Auntie Nat gave me my photo a few years ago when I asked about her about Dagger Squad. But she told me not to tell my mom or my uncle about it. She said that they would be upset.”

“There were taken on the same day,” Charlie murmured, her eyes raking over the photo. “See? The lights in the background, the clothes, the people? They’re all the same.”

“You know what this means, right?” Abby whispered, her finger now tracing over Charlie’s photo, her focus solely on the man in the middle, the man that Charlie had called Dad.

“Abby, it can’t…I don’t…” Charlie swallowed painfully.

“Charlie…I think your dad…was married to my mum.”

A door slamming behind them sent a jolt down both their spines and they spun on the bed to face the intruder.

Amelia set the tray of food down and wiped the water off her face with a sigh. “It’s about time you two figured it out.”

Tags List: @mamachasesmayhem @jessicab1991 @waltermis @buckysteveloki-me @allepaula @yuckosworld @seresinsbrat @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @kim-stark @cierra715 @high-speed-r @helpmepleasethanks @starsrfun @tomanyfandomstrash @averyhotchner @the-blueatlas @princessliz86 @dashes-dizzydisaster @a-girl-who-loves-disney @boiolay @djs8891 @torimcc @tgmreader @kmc1989 @landpiranha-blog @sydthekid1518 @lynnevanss @hello7442 @mackenzieblair @minejungwoo @starset21 @ssa-sadboi @tgmavericklover @dempy @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @lovemarvelousfics, @starkleila, @magical-spit, @whatislovevavy, @simplyreading96, @vivalas-vega, @itsdesiree86, @inky-sun, @books-are-escapes

[stray-cat-21]

The Pariah and the Freak

Part 2: Meeting the Baby and Rumors Spread

Summary: Eddie and (y/n) see their baby for the first time

“Shit does this look okay should I change? I’ve gotta couple button ups from shows and stuff I could wear. Do we have time to run back to the trailer?”

“Eddie honey we’re just doing an ultrasound there’s no dress code”

“Yeah but we’re meeting our baby for the first time I wanna make a good impression”

Eddie sounds genuinely concerned while staring into the full length mirror in (y/n)’s room. He messes with his hair, adjusts his plain black shirt tucking it in and untucking it, and tampering with his jacket’s zipper. (Y/n) steps away from her closet watching her boyfriend nervously fiddle with his clothes. Not only was he worried about his appearance but even in private he had referred to the baby as his own. Smiling she made her way over to Eddie wrapping her arms around his waist earning a soft smile from him.

“You look fine baby I promise, it’s not like the baby can see you” (y/n) responds voice airy and feathery light. Eddie exhales turning around to wrap her in a tight hug. He holds her close resting her forehead against his chin so he can plant a kiss there. “I know I just want to do this all right start to finish. You deserve that, you both do” he breathes.

(Y/n) smiles warmly looking up to give him a kiss. Slow sweet and laced with appreciation. “You look amazing and I know the baby will agree. I mean how could they not with that hair” she teases playing with a strand of his brown waves. Eddie chuckles relaxing more. “And the sweet ol tatties don’t forget those” he jokes earning a laugh from (Y/n).

“Those too baby” (y/n) agrees. “Alright we better get on the road we got a bit of a drive” Eddie says glancing over at the clock. (Y/n) agrees grabbing her purse. (Y/n) was 18 so getting a doctors appointment without parental knowledge or consent wasn’t hard but in order to not get caught they had to make the appointment the next town over. Eddie offers out his arm leading them out to his van.

He pulls the van’s passenger door open with a loud squeak. There’s a bit of a step so Eddie helps her up into her seat. “Oh you can uh stick the camera in the back” Eddie suggests spotting it sitting on the seat. (Y/n) pulls it into her lap instead as Eddie makes his way over to his own seat. “What’s this for?” She questions once he’s in the van.

“I uh wanted to capture the moment” Eddie laughs a little embarrassed. (Y/n) smiles again and leans over to kiss him on the cheek. “I don’t have too many photos from when I was little, they’re mostly from after I moved in with Wayne. I want things to be different for our kid y’know” he shrugs. “Then our baby will have tons of photos, not just of them but our little family” (y/n) agrees.

Spending her Sunday with her legs in stirrups with Eddie Munson at her side was definitely not on (y/n)’s agenda for her senior year. It’s an uncomfortable position to be in but with Eddie holding her hand it doesn’t feel too bad. He presses a soft reassuring kiss to her palm offering her a warm smile. “You ready to meet our baby?” Eddie asks. “So ready” (y/n) breathes.

A doctor dressed in baby pink scrubs enters with a clipboard in hand. “Hello my name is Dr. Aditi and you must be (y/n)” she says reading from the chart. “Yes, and this is Eddie he’s the father” (y/n) explains. “Hi” Eddie says nervousness evident his voice. 

Doctor Aditi asks a lot of questions and explains some medical things. Eddie makes a note of exactly what vitamins (y/n) needs to take along with what exactly to avoid. Anytime she seems to get overwhelmed or worried Eddie gives her hand a reassuring squeeze. It’s a lot to take in but Eddie takes it seriously wanting to do as he said and do everything right.

Finally it's time for the ultrasound. Dr. Aditi prepares the machine, gently putting the cold gel on (y/n)'s belly and positioning the wand. As the screen flickers to life, Eddie holds his breath. The room is filled with a soft whooshing sound as the doctor moves the wand around, searching for the baby. And just like that there it is, a tiny, fuzzy image appears on the screen.

Eddie's eyes widen with wonder, and (y/n) gasps, tears threatening to spill from their eyes. They clutch each other's hands even tighter as Dr. Aditi points out where there baby is. "It's beautiful," Eddie whispers, his voice filled with awe. Tears stream down (y/n)'s face as she nods in agreement. "Our baby," she murmurs voice choked with emotion.

Eddie pulls his eyes away briefly enough to kiss her (y/n) on the head. “And this,” Dr. Aditi says flicking another switch “is your baby’s heartbeat.” A small but steady thumping sound fills the room. Forget Metallica, screw Dio, and Megadeath may as well throw in the towel. This sound right here was Eddie’s new favorite sound.

The next few moments are a blur as Dr. Aditi continues the ultrasound procedure. The whole time Eddie can't take his eyes off the screen. His heart bursting with love for the tiny life growing inside (y/n). The image is etching itself into his memory taking place among Eddie’s favorite things. It’s a moment he wants to remember forever.

After what feels like an eternity Dr. Aditi finishes up and cleans (y/n)'s belly. As they all gather their belongings, Eddie remembers the small camera now tucked under his leather jacket. “Uh hey before we go I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind taking a photo of us?” Eddie asks. The doctor happily obliges accepting the camera. Eddie wraps his arm around (y/n)‘s shoulders and they both hold the ultrasound in front of them.

Leaving the doctor's office Eddie and (y/n) share a huge smile. There’s an indescribable sensation of love and connection they’re both experiencing. They sit in the van, staring at the ultrasound image, unable to contain their excitement. It feels unreal as Eddie stares at the black and white photo in his hands.

“They’re beautiful”

“I know it’s unbelievable”

“Wasn’t that the most metal thing you’ve ever heard?

“Seriously this is amazing you’re amazing” Eddie breathes out. He kisses her head and her cheek and her lips. (Y/n) let’s out a teary laugh. “Seriously (y/n), amazing” Eddie grins.

As they drive back towards home they’re both just a little somber. Once they get home there’s no celebrations to be had, no spreading the joyful news. They do end up stopping by a little store that sells baby clothes. Eddie insists on picking out a tiny onesie with the words "Daddy's Little Rockstar" printed on it. It's a small gesture, but it symbolizes his unwavering commitment to being the best father he can be.

Eddie’s copy of the ultrasound stays safe in his wallet. Every time he opens his wallet and sees the picture he can't help but smile like an idiot. It represents everything he went through to make this happen. How far he had come since just daydreaming about (y/n) from across the room.

On Monday morning Eddie strutted through the halls of his high school, a grin plastered across his face. His classmates couldn't help but notice the exuberant expression on his face, and whispers began to circulate. By third period rumors had emerged, each more outlandish than the last. According to the grapevine Eddie had sacrificed a virgin over the weekend and that was the cause of his unusually good mood.

Determined to get to the bottom of things Gareth intercepted him at his locker. Gareth stood his ground blocking Eddie's path while Jeff and Paul joined crowding Eddie."What's going on with you Eddie are you high or somethin?" Gareth demanded, his tone laced with confusion.

Confusion etched across his face Eddie shook his head. "What are you guys talking about? No I'm not high” he replied. Frustrated, Eddie nudged Gareth attempting to pass him. They all knew that Gareth or any of them for that matter, rarely stood their ground against Eddie's strong will.

"Not so fast, we want answers," Gareth said, his voice firm. With a sigh, Eddie cast a discreet glance around before leading his friends into the nearby bathroom. Once inside, Eddie rummaged through his pocket, pulling out his wallet. He carefully pulled out photograph and handed it to Gareth who held it gingerly. Jeff and Paul craned their necks to get a glimpse of what had caused Eddie's unusual behavior.

“What is it?” Jeff asks. Eddie huffed, maintaining his infectious smile. "It's an ultrasound, so be careful with it dicks," he said, his tone slightly annoyed. Jeff's eyes widened, and the color drained from Gareth's face. Meanwhile, Paul's jaw dropped in disbelief.

Drowning in a sea of panic, Gareth blurted out, "Do you have cancer? Are you dying?" The boys began talking over each other, fueled by their fears and confusion. Eddie shouted, desperate to silence their cacophony.

“Enough!” He commanded voice booming. The boys stop talking. "It's not mine, you idiots," Eddie revealed, his smile still intact. "It's (Y/n)'s. She's pregnant." Gareth, Jeff, and Paul froze, their eyes wide with shock.

“Whose is it” Jeff’s voice trembles as he asks the question no one else was brave enough to. "Mine, obviously," Eddie replied confidently, his smile finally fading. The reality of the situation seemed to hit the trio all at once, and they stood there, speechless.

Once the initial shock wears off, Jeff and Gareth exchange knowing glances while Paul tries to process the news. "How did this happen?" Paul finally asks. Eddie shrugs, a playful smirk on his face. "I guess I have some moves outside of DND" he says, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Gareth shakes his head, a mix of disbelief and amusement on his face. "Well, congrats, man. It's a life-changer, for sure," he says, patting Eddie on the back. Jeff, still processing everything, finally speaks up. "What are you gonna do, Eddie?"

Eddie's grin fades slightly, replaced with a more serious expression. "Well, I've talked to (Y/n), and we've decided to keep it. It won't be easy, but we'll figure it out." Paul, who has been quiet throughout the conversation, finally finds his voice. "That's a big responsibility, man, are you sure you're up for it?" he asks.

Eddie nods, determination in his eyes. "I may have been acting crazy all morning, but this, this is real. This is something I'm willing to give my all for." As the shock subsided Gareth reached out to pat Eddie's back, a mix of concern and understanding in his eyes. "Hey man, we're here for you," he said sincerely. Jeff nodded, his initial panic giving way to a sense of loyalty. "Yeah, Eddie. We'll support you through this."

"What do you need from us, Eddie?" Gareth asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. Eddie took a deep breath, overwhelmed by the unwavering support of his friends. "I just need you guys to be there for me and (Y/n)," he said, his smile softening. "I don’t imagine our very accepting town will be pleasant when they find out.” The boys exchanged nods, understanding the weight of their friend's words.

Eddie was on his way out of his last period smiling at the thought

“Eddie you’re gonna wanna come see this” Jeff says out of breath as he jogs up to his friends. Eddie wordlessly follows his bandmates down the hall. There’s a small gathering of some of their peers stood around a particular locker whispering. It would be nothing new for a member of Hellfire’s locker to get vandalized but Eddie knew that this one didn’t belong to any of them.

(Y/n)‘s locker was now littered with cruel scribblings done with different colored sharpies. Words like slut, freak’s whore, trailer park tramp were plastered on the metal along with magazine articles talking about teen pregnancy. “Shit” Eddie breathed running a hand through his hair. “Looks like word got out” Gareth sighed. “Can you two get this cleaned up I gotta find her” Eddie asked looking towards Gareth and Jeff.

“Don’t worry about it man we’ve got this” Jeff assures him. Eddie

When he spots (Y/n) she’s making her way down the hall. Dressed in her cheer uniform, books clutched to her chest as she nervously looks around. For once the nagging feeling of eyes following someone around is right

Eddie hurries over to her placing his hands on her shoulders. “Hey Eddie” she greets pulling her eyes away from a group of whispering students. “Hey sweetheart why don’t we go outside and talk alright?” He tries desperately hoping to shield her from school’s cruelty. “Talk, talk about what?” She hums. “Oh I don’t know I’m sure we’ll think of something” he says attempting to lead her towards door.

She allows him to practically push her down the hall confused by the urgency. They pass a small group of students who are huddled close together. “Whore” one of them covers up poorly with a cough. Eddie and (y/n) freeze and he winces. She turns around facing him already frowning.

“Oh god they know” (y/n) gasps. Already her eyes are watery with worry. “Yeah I guess so” Eddie sighs. “Oh god oh no, no no no” she cries spinning around seeing all the eyes on her. “C’mon let’s go outside alright baby let’s talk” Eddie pleads.

Unfortunately right now she doesn’t hear her boyfriend’s requests. All (y/n) hears is the whispers and quiet conversations the laughter and taunts. Everyone in the hallway is staring on at the two. She slowly turns around seeing classmates, cheer squad members, and even friends are watching, talking, judging. Eddie carefully grabs her face in his hands making her look at him.

“Hey it’s gonna be alright okay I promise”

“Everyone knows Eddie, everyone”

“I don’t think it’s gotten around to everyone yet but it’s definitely been around”

“This is bad so bad!”

“I know it’s bad right now but we’ll figure out. We knew this would happen eventually right?”

“Not this soon I thought we’d have time, I thought it wouldn’t be till I started showing at least”

A tear escapes her eye and Eddie is quick to wipe it away. His heart aches at how worried and upset she looks. Eddie is an old fashioned man who desperately wishes to protect her both in the physical sense and emotional. He wraps his arms around her pulling her body flush with his. This time (y/n) isn’t sobbing just silently crying motionless in his arms, if given the choice Eddie thinks he’d prefer the first option.

“Anyone who has anything to say will have to deal with me alright? And not just me but the guys too they’ve got your back”

“The guys already know?”

“Yeah Gareth heard from someone last period”

“Oh god Eddie do they hate me? Do they think I’m some floozy or something”

Eddie let’s out a small breathy laugh pulling her face away to look in her eyes. “No, no, no sweetheart they don’t think you’re a floozy. They’re having a hard time believing that I slept with you but y’know no surprise there” Eddie shrugs. That earns him a weak smile from (Y/n). Eddie takes that as a good sign wiping her face.

(Y/n) let’s put a small gasp. “Oh and you Eddie they’re probably saying all kind of things about you” she frets. “So it’s business as usual then” Eddie shrugs. (Y/n) shakes her head looking away from Eddie. Her eyes land on Chrissy rushing down the hall with her arms full of paper towels.

“Wait you were trying to lead me outside before” (y/n) points out looking back to Eddie. His face falls and he looks back for just a brief second. “Uh was I?” He asked. (Y/n) peaks behind him before quickly walking in the same direction that Chrissy just left in. “Sweetheart wait please” Eddie calls jogging behind her.

The crowd gathered around the lockers is much larger now. It’s become quite the spectacle in a matter of minutes. (Y/n) politely pushed through the crowd muttering apologies. The whispering gets less subtle as they realize that (Y/n) is making her way through.

“I’m telling you man It’s not coming off!” Gareth hissed. “Scrub harder then” Jeff huffed. “Both of you keep wiping” Chrissy instructs. The two guys are aggressively wiping the marker away while Chrissy pulls down the magazine articles and pictures. Gareth is the first to notice her presence standing up in an attempt to cover the locker with his body.

“(Y/n) hey um we were just uh working on a project for um for class” Chrissy nervously starts to explain. “For home economics!” Gareth quickly adds. “Yes, for home economics!” Chrissy cheers. It’s definitely a lie and a bad one at that since Gareth isn’t even in the same grade and Jeff doesn’t take home economics. Still the blonde smiles in hopes of convincing her friend it’s the truth.

(Y/n) doesn’t respond stepping closer to her locker. Tears gloss over her eyes once more as they look over the metal surface. She had seen on many occasions how cruel students could be and had even tried to stop it quite a few of those times. Never before had such behavior been directed at her. (Y/n) was even positive that a few of the handwritings looked familiar enough to pinpoint which cheerleader wrote it.

People she called friends, team mates, girls who had the nerve to call themselves her sisters had turned on her. They didn’t even have any proof if what they had heard was true or not and they still stabbed her in the back over it. Over something that ultimately wasn’t even her choice. The crowd was still talking in less hushed whispers. Each unfriendly voice sticking out more and more.

“I always knew she was a slut I’ve been saying it for years”

“She must have some serious issues to settle for Munson”

“How pathetic”

“Do you think she did it on purpose like she was worried of ending up alone? I mean when was the last time you saw her date someone?”

Vision blurry, ears ringing (y/n) spun around. This time she moved through the crowd much less apologetically. There were no mumbled apologies or excuse need mes. She knew Chrissy was desperately calling her name but right now she just needed out. (Y/n) didn’t stop running till she was out the door and far away from the building.

As she tries to steady her breathing, the tears continue to flow freely. It feels like her entire world has come crashing down in a matter of minutes. All she wanted was a normal high school experience, but instead, she's faced with humiliation and betrayal from those she thought were her friends.

Eddie finally catches up to her, his face full of concern and worry. "Sweetheart, are you okay?" he asks, breathless from running after her. (Y/n) looks up at him, her eyes red and puffy. "No, Eddie, I'm not okay," she sobs. "How could they do this to me? I thought they were my friends I thought they had my back."

Eddie wraps his arms around her, pulling her close. "I know, I know. It's not fair, and it's not right. But listen to me, we're going to get through this together. I promise you, I won't let anyone hurt you."

She clings to him, finding solace in his words and the comfort of his embrace. Eddie is her rock, her anchor in this storm of chaos. Together, they'll navigate through this difficult time, supporting each other every step of the way.

“I know I’m just me but no matter what I’m not going anywhere” Eddie announces quietly anyway. The comment of ‘just him’ strikes (y/n) as funny. In fact the term is funny enough to make her breathe out a quiet laugh. “What’s funny sweets?” Eddie asks. (Y/n) wipes the tears from her cheeks.

“Just you, it’s funny as if you’re nothing special it’s just you” she answers. Eddie’s eyebrows furrow in confusion and his head tilts a little. “I just mean you aren’t just you Eddie not to me anyways” (y/n) continues with a gentle smile. Eddie smiles wiping tears away from her cheeks. “You doing okay?” He asks.

(Y/n) exhales looking down. Her life had flipped upside down over the last week. Everything was changing and it was changing fast. Then there was the good part that had come out of all this, Eddie. Her saving grace, her rock, her best friend.

She looked up to meet his eye again really studying him this time. (Y/n) takes in a deep before nodding. “Yeah actually I’m doing better, like you said they’d find out eventually” she shrugs with a small smile. “It’s okay if you’re not, you don’t have to pretend with me” Eddie promises squeezing her hands. This time (y/n) says nothing instead leaning up to kiss him.

Eddie accepts the kiss moving one of his hands to cup her face. It’s slow and sweet, made entirely out of gratitude and appreciation. When they pull apart her smile is a little more real. “Yeah I’m good Eds promise” she sighs. Eddie nods relieved.

“Besides my big scary boyfriend is gonna beat up anyone who says anything” (y/n) teases nudging his arm. Eddie snorts shaking his head a little. He leans down to connect their lips again.

There’s the sound of leaves crunching makes them turn around. Chrissy stands nervously a couple feet away. “Hey um I just came to check on you” she smiles nervously. “I better go help those idiots clean up your locker, meet me over there when you’re done?” Eddie asks getting up from the table.

(Y/n) nods leaning up to kiss him again. “Thank you again Eddie” she says softly. Eddie shakes his head smiling. “Don’t mention it sweets” he promises getting up from the table. Chrissy offers him a polite nod taking his place while Eddie heads back towards the school.

(Y/n) and Chrissy had always been inseparable. They grew up together, experiencing all of life's milestones side by side. From picking out their first movie crushes to sharing the excitement of their first real kisses, they had always been there for each other. But now, they were facing a completely new challenge - an unexpected teen pregnancy. This was not something they could find the solution to in Sassy or Seventeen magazine.

Sitting at the table (Y/n) mustered up the courage to confirm the news with her best friend. It wasn't an easy conversation to start, but she knew she needed Chrissy's support. “So,” Chrissy breathes with a small nervous smile “it’s true then?” (Y/n) took in a breath bracing herself. "Yeah CC, it's true, I'm, uh, pregnant."

Chrissy's eyes widened clearly shocked by the revelation. "Wow, that's huge, like, really really huge" she managed to say. (Y/n) nodded, feeling the weight of the situation. "I know," she replied softly. "And it's Eddie's."

Chrissy's eyes filled with concern as she asked about the circumstances. "When did that happen? You guys just started dating!" (Y/n) hesitated for a moment before recalling the night of Josh's party. “Do you remember Josh’s party?”

Chrissy thought back for a second. “Well yeah I remember you guys hanging out but you were really drunk” she explained. Suddenly Chrissy gasped, gripping (Y/n)'s arm. "Oh my god, did he take advantage of you?" There was a mix of concern and anger in her voice."No, no, it wasn't anything like that" (Y/n) reassured her, placing a hand over Chrissy's.

The tension in Chrissy's face eased as she let out a relieved breath.Curiosity getting the better of her Chrissy asked "So how did this happen, then?" "Well, after I passed out, he couldn't find you, and he didn't know where I lived, so he brought me to his place. He was really sweet and took care of me. I don't know, CC it just happened” (y/n) explained.

Chrissy's surprise turned into a smile as she said "Wow, Eddie Munson." "Eddie Munson” (Y/n) repeated with a small smile. "And you know what? I'm happier than I've been in a long time” (y/n) confirmed.

Chrissy's excitement couldn't be contained as she hugged (Y/n) tightly. “I'm so happy for you babe” she whispered. "Thank you, CC really” With a grin, Chrissy demanded to know all the details. She wanted to hear everything about this unexpected turn of events.

As (Y/n) recounted waking up in Eddie's bed and his sweet gestures to take care of her Chrissy listened intently. "Wow he sounds great”Chrissy gushed, thinking of how different Eddie was from her own boyfriend, Jason. "He's so different from the rest of the guys around here.”(Y/n) nodded, knowing how special Eddie was. "He's really something CC, despite his tough exterior, he's truly so sweet."

As they continued to talk (Y/n) shared more about their day together, how they laughed and ate breakfast. She couldn't help but gush about Eddie's uncle Wayne, who she found to be surprisingly similar to him."He always looks so serious and gruff," Chrissy remarked."Yeah, I think that's just how he has to be you know”(Y/n) replied. "Eddie has a lot to deal with at school, so he has to put up this tough front."

Chrissy nodded in understanding before asking about the moment Eddie dropped (Y/n) off at her house. "Did he kiss you at the door?" she inquired. (Y/n) laughed. "No, he's too old school for that, we exchanged numbers instead, and that's when we decided to meet up again later."

"Wow" Chrissy said, completely captivated by the story unfolding before her. "Exactly, big wow” (Y/n) agreed, feeling grateful for her supportive best friend by her side.

“Well he obviously couldn’t find you after I passed out and he didn’t know where I lived so he brought me to his place. I don’t know he was really sweet and charming and he took care of me. It just happened CC I don’t know.”

“Then I can’t wait to be an aunt”

“You’ll be the best aunt”

“Oh I should make them a blanket! Of course I’ll need to wait till I know if it’s a boy or girl. Or I could pick something like yellow or green? What are the Hellfire colors?”

“Whatever you pick will be great Chrissy”

Arm in arm, Chrissy and (y/n) made their way back into the school, a sense of normality slowly returning. The hallway had mostly cleared now, leaving just a few random students heading one way or another. The chaos of earlier seemed like a distant memory at least for the time being. At her locker, the guys had mostly finished cleaning up the vandalized mess, with just a few remaining markings and unreadable words. They were in the middle of a heavy debate about some musician versus another when they spotted the girls approaching.

"Hi baby” (y/n) greeted, pulling away from Chrissy who had to catch her ride. "Hey sweetheart, your locker's mostly cleaned up” Eddie said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. His eyes flickered with genuine concern. "Thank you for this, guys. I really appreciate it” (y/n) sighed, glancing at her locker which now looked almost normal once again.

Gareth and Jeff, who had been sitting on the ground, immediately got up, slightly shoving each other for who would get up first. Their banter was lighthearted, a stark contrast to the events of the day. "I think this makes you an official member of the club” Gareth grinned a teasing glint in his eyes."Yeah this counts as your initiation” Jeff agreed a smirk playing on his lips.

"Welcome to Hellfire, (y/n) (y/l/n)” Eddie declared with a wide grin, his voice filled with pride. (Y/n) couldn't help but smile back, her expression real and earnest. It was honestly a weird feeling for her. She had watched as her social life crumbled into pieces after the rumors and malicious lies spread about her. But with Eddie and her newfound friends, it honestly didn't feel so bad.

Eddie and (Y/n) decide to unwind after school by watching an old tape. As they lay together on the couch, snuggled up the warmth of their love filled the room.Eddie finally breaks the comfortable silence drawing (Y/N)'s attention away from the tape. "You know, with everyone around school finding out about us, we might want to tell our parents soon” he pointed out concern tugging at the corners of his lips.

(Y/N)'s face fell, and a wave of dread washed over her. "They're gonna be so mad, Eddie” she whispered her voice trembling with anxiety. The thought of disappointing her parents weighed heavily on her heart. Eddie gently tilted her chin up, his eyes filled with tenderness. "They'll be even more pissed if we let them hear it from someone else” he replied, pressing a soft kiss against her lips.

"I know, but this has all been so happy” (Y/N) admitted, her voice laced with fear. "I'm just not ready to lose that yet." Eddie pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her protectively. "Maybe it won't be as bad as you think," he reassured her, brushing his fingers over her hair. "They may be mad at first, but they'll come around I’m sure.”

Tears welled up in (Y/N)'s eyes as she gazed into Eddie's deep, caring eyes. "Their daughter is pregnant, Eds" she spoke softly, her voice thick with emotion. "They're gonna be pissed." Eddie tenderly wiped away her tears, his heart aching for the pain she felt. "We'll face them together," he promised.

(Y/N) took a deep breath, finding comfort in Eddie's words. “Okay you’re right we’ll tell them” (y/n) breathes looking up at Eddie. “Wayne’s off on Wednesday we could do dinner” Eddie points out. “Dinner on Wednesday it is” (y/n) sighs.

[lacontroller1991]

Fluff/WhumpTOBER Day 10: Deacon x F!Reader

Day 10: Bet, Game Contest/Blow to the Head Masterlist Warnings: 16+, alcohol consumption, language, suggestive language Word Count: 1k

The bitter, cold wind moans against the built up boards surrounding the house, but the two people inside don’t pay attention. It’s night time in Sanctuary Hills and most of the residents are sound asleep in their makeshift rooms except you and Deacon, whose glasses lay to the side of him. 

With a smile, Deacon passes the bottle to you. The last few hours have been like this, just you and him sitting by the fireplace in your house, keeping the cold at bay as hours dwindle away. Taking a sip from the liquid, you try not to make a face as it burns down your throat. “Shit was never this strong. I don’t know what you people have done to this but it’s like straight ethanol.”

Deacon grabs the bottle back, taking another swig as his head twitches in response, making a satisfied sigh. “Ahh that’s the good stuff.”

Shaking your head, you wrap the blanket further around you, holding your hands toward the fire. “I wish I could take you back to my time, where food was good and so was alcohol. I have a feeling you would really like fruity cocktails.”

Scrunching his nose, he shakes his head, blue eyes watching the fire cast light onto your face, highlighting the features that he loves. “Nah, I’m a man. Bourbon all the way.”

“Deeks, you can deny it all you like, but you’d 100% be into those fruity cocktails. I just know it.”

Humming in response, the room is quiet aside from the cackling of the fireplace before Deacon opens his mouth again. “Why don’t we play… two lies and a truth!”

Letting a chuckle slip past your lips, your eyes peer over to your companion, a sense of longing burying itself in your core. From the minute you’ve met him, you’ve been instantly attracted to him, and with him traveling with you, it’s only grown your attraction. Not that he would ever know that of course. “I’m pretty sure it’s two truths and a lie.”

“Aw come on boss, I can’t give too much away,” he explains with grandiose, his arms spreading as you roll your eyes with a smile. That’s another reason why you’re in love with the spy, he never fails to make you smile.

“Sure, whatever, Deacon. You first.”

“Oooo, gotta make it a good one,” he pauses for a minute, fingers on his chin, rubbing the stubble as he pretends to think of something.

“Ok, one, my favorite color is blue, two, my eyes are actually gray, and three, I’m a ginger.”

“Seriously?”

“Scouts Honor.” His cheshire grin spreads across his lit face, reaching to his eyes, which are definitely blue. Not MacCready’s shade of blue, but blue nonetheless. 

Taking back the bottle, you take another sip with a sigh, the alcohol burning a pit in your stomach. “Well, from what I’ve seen of your eyes, when you show them to me, they’re blue. Pretty sure your favorite color is black, so that leaves the truth to be that you’re a ginger, which makes no sense.” His grin widens as he leans forward, shoving his arm in your face, orangish blonde hair lightly dusting his toned arms. “No way? You’re actually a ginger?”

“I thought that was kind of obvious, but whatever,” he leans back against the couch, smirking at you. “Your turn.”

Ok, think of something. “One, I used to want to be a doctor. I didn’t get into medical school which is why I went into law. Two, I had a pregnancy scare in highschool. Three, I was obsessed with bugs when I was younger.” You hold back a laugh as his face drops, not really sure what to make of your options.

“Hmmm. So, judging by how you get sick to your stomach every time we venture into a hospital, the first option is a lie. Same with number three, you get sick every time we kill a bloatfly, which leaves the pregnancy scare being your truth.”

“Checkmate, Deacon. Drink up!”

“What? No, come on, there’s no way you would lie about something like that.”

“I’ve learned from you, haven’t I?” He grumbles, taking a drink from the bottle with a frown, his blue eyes not leaving yours. “I used to want to be a doctor, but I did a clinical rotation in my senior year of undergrad, saw a surgery gone wrong and passed out. I was very grateful that my med school application was denied.” 

Deacon scoffs, the alcohol setting into his system. “Damn, you came to play.” Shrugging your shoulders, you let a smile spread across your lips, knowing that you got the liar. “If that’s how you want to play, then let’s play,” he comments, criss crossing his legs and pulling his poker face out. 

“Oh no, Deacon is getting serious! Everyone, hide your children!” A laugh erupts from your throat, your head feeling light from the alcohol. “Ok bad boy, hit me with your worst.”

“One, I’m in love with Glory. Two, I’m in love with Desdemona. Three, I’m in love with you.” Well, that sobered you right up. Heat rises under your cheeks at the implication. You have a one-third shot of getting this correct, but do you want to get it correct? If you’re honest with yourself, you don’t want to know who he’s in love with, in fear that it’s not you.

“Um…” “Did Deacon catch your tongue?” You silently curse his poker face. There’s no way you can tell what he’s thinking, even with his glasses off.

“You’re in love with Desdemona?”

He hands you the bottle with a smirk. “Drink up, pal.”

“Wait, so you’re in love with Glory?”

“That’s two drinks baby girl.” That means…

“Deacon, I-,” he doesn’t let you finish your thoughts before he’s surging forward, placing his large hands on either side of your face, pressing his lips against yours. Despite it being freezing cold outside, his lips are warm. Slipping into the kiss, your arms wrap around his shoulders, lips moving in tandem for a minute before breaking away, your forehead resting against his.

“That was-”

“Yeah. That was.” He chuckles softly as you try to wrap your head around it. 

“So you’re in love with me, huh?”

“Yep. Have been for a while, but I didn’t want to do anything about it until a little birdy told me that you harbored feelings too.”

“I don’t like this game,” you comment sarcastically against his lips, breaths mingling with each other.

“Why don’t we play strip poker instead?”

-fin-

@unrepentantweirdo

[lollipencil]

Mare Phantom: Part 6

@void-of-unparalled-chaos, here's some more!

Enjoy and be gentle ---

Standing on a rooftop, Marc pulled a deep drag of fresh-ish air into his lungs.

Maybe he was being a coward, but after faintly hearing a voice that might have been Doctor Doom himself over the Mission's phone, he had to breath for just a moment. "Shit's hit the fan, eh?" Jake asked into the silence. "Auugh." "At least, when the media finds about all this, everyone that 'law' victimizes will know that not everybody wants them dead," Steven pointed out. "Or deader than dead," Marc added in agreement, followed by another deep breath.

Oh, how he hoped no one would try to interview him when that finally happened.

A third breath, and Marc turned to head back to the Mission. When a familar sound came from behind, along with the usual voice with it. "Moon Knight!" Marc turned just in time to see a hurried Spider-Man land with a small bundle in his arms. Instantly, he closed the distance. "What happened?" "The GIW! They've built a lab in New York, a bunch of us just raided it. Lots of injuries," Spidey panted as he explained, "This one's the worst."

Marc allowed Spidey to pass the bundle to him. A glowing green dog, no bigger than a puppy, looked up at him and weakly yapped. "Got some webbing as temp stitches, but they're dissolving fast! Go!" Marc turned instantly and sprinted.

The Mission's doors slammed open as he neared. "Reese, we've got incoming!" he greeted as the screaching of tires sounded from behind. "What kind?!" she was imedieatly by his side. "Injured travellers," he stated, letting her see the dog. "Oh, my- Go, I'll direct everyone to the med-bay and join you!"

Instantly, Marc darted through the nearest door, and was there. "Wha-?" Danny and Badr said almost in sync. "No time, GIW base in New York just got raided," Marc breathlessly laid the bundle on a table and unwrapped the cloth.

The instant the dog was exposed, Danny's eyes widened. "Cujo?" he asked faintly. Cujo whined. The artifical webbing was visibly failing, showing off the deep cut in the pup's belly. "Marc, get the medical thread," Badr quickly commanded. "Wait, it won't work!" Danny staggered from his bed, "the ectoplasm will just eat right through it!" "What else can we use?" Badr asked. "The Fenton Ghost Fisher, the wire's coated in an ecto-based resin," Danny stated, "He's also going to need ectoplasm, but the only two portals are too far away, and if the GIW is here-"

"We'll deal with it," Marc promised, "right, Badr. Wrap that wound best you can. Kid, do you know how to get a hold of that device?" "I can do you one better, I can make the resin. I just need ecto and some supplies." "State what you need, we'll get it." Marc closed his eyes and swallowed, "The Sanctum might know how to get ectoplasm." As the med-bay suddenly grew new five beds, Badr nodded.

Marc ran out, yelling to Reese as he passed: "Supply run!" His phone only dialed for a moment before Greer picked up. "Marc, what's-" "No time to chat," Marc panted over the chlled night air as he ran, "Got several injured ghosts in the Mission, I'm heading to the Sanctum for ectoplasm. I need you to get some stuff for Danny." "Of cource, name it." "I don't know yet, but Reese or someone else should be messaging you soon with the list." "I'll be waiting. Keep me posted."

The call ended just as Bleeker Street appeared. Hopefully with good news.

[karizard-ao3]

Hi Karizard! Just finished reading Clueless Teens in like … two sittings - it’s legit the best school caste au fic I’ve come across, i love it so much. I know Eremika is the main focus but holy shit ur Aruani is! So sweet! 😭 Would you ever consider writing more Aruani stuff in the future?

Aw, thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed it! I tend to include Aruani as a side ship in my longer fics. They feature in Anamnesis but I didn't tag them as a ship because they do not have a happy ending together and it's pretty much just solid angst between them throughout lol.

I'm still working on finishing my single parents au wip, but Aruani are the other couple in it. They, of course, don't show up as much as Eremika, but they are in it and they deal with changes to their relationship due to becoming new parents.

I'm going to share a little snippet, as a treat (also, I'm chomping at the bit to get this finished and posted, so I want very badly to share scenes and whatnot).

Here, Armin and Annie bring their baby on his first outing, meeting up with Eren, Mikasa, and their kids at the playground.

BEGIN SCENE!

Annie made sure Alexander was secure in his sling while Armin grabbed the diaper bag and slung it over his shoulder. 

"Is he okay in there?" he fretted. "You're sure he won't fall out or smother?"

"Maybe the sling wasn't a good idea…" said Annie, looking up at the other families occupying the playground near Eren and Mikasa’s houses. "Maybe bringing him out at all wasn't a good idea…" 

She bit her lip and glanced over towards where Eren and Mikasa were watching their kids play. Mason was running back and forth across the play structure’s bridge, doing spin kicks at each landing, while Adriana squealed and hollered because Eren was wiping her nose when she wanted to play. She had been a snotty, coughing mess all morning, he’d warned them, adding, “But don’t worry. The doctor said she’s not contagious, just gross.”

So maybe Adri wasn't an infection risk, but what about all these other kids? Annie held Alexander protectively against her body. He made a grunting sound, bobbing his fists and looking up at her. She glanced down at him just in time to see his face screw up and relax as he farted. Her heart swelled. "We're going to bring you home so none of these rowdy little shits can get you sick," she cooed. 

Alexander grunted again, not comprehending but pleased to be part of the conversation.

"Armin, we're going," said Annie.

"Sounds good!" said Armin, opening the car door he had just closed and stowing the diaper bag back inside.

Across the park lawn, Mikasa smacked Eren's arm and pointed at them.

"Ope!" he said, setting Adri free and jogging across the grass to the Arlerts. "Don't even think about it!" he said, stopping next to them. "You told us you were going crazy stuck at home. Now that the baby has his shots and it’s warming up, it's time for you two to get out of the house. He’ll be fine. You don’t need to keep him in a bubble."

"Look," said Armin. "I know it probably seems like we're being excessive to you, but you don't know what it's like having a child with medical issues."

Eren gaped at him. “Seriously?”

"What?" said Armin. "You don't."

"My kid literally can't breathe without daily steroids and gets bronchitis multiple times a year," said Eren, his eyebrows dropping into a dangerous line across his face. "What is Alexander's chronic illness?"

Armin averted his eyes. 

"Sorry. I didn't hear you. What was it again?" said Eren. He was in a far worse mood than usual.

"Nothing," grumbled Armin. "The doctor gave him a clean bill of health.”

“Oh!” said Eren. “How interesting!” 

“But his immune system is still immature so we have to be careful with him,” Armin persisted.

Eren held up his hands. "Fine. But if you keep sheltering him from everything like this, Alexander is going to turn out like you," he warned.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Armin demanded. "My parents did a great job!"

Annie reached past him to open the car door and get the diaper bag back out. “I guess a little fresh air and sunshine wouldn’t hurt.”

Armin turned to look at her, the betrayal evident all over his face. 

"I love you so much, baby," she said. "Just the way you are."

"That's not really what it seems like right now!" said Armin.

"No, really!" said Annie. "You're so intelligent and handsome and talented!"

"But?" said Armin, folding his arms.

"No buts," said Annie, heading towards Mikasa. "It's just that my dad didn't coddle me at all and I'm much less…"

"Much less what?" said Armin, scowling and chasing after her.

"Um... Prissy," said Annie. 

“We are talking more about this at home,” said Armin.

“Yes, dear,” said Annie.

“Tan I see the baby?” Adri squealed as soon as she noticed the Arlerts had finally joined them, chugging down the play structure steps as fast as her little legs could carry her and wiping her snot on her pudgy wrist.

Annie closed her eyes, took a deep, stabilizing breath and kneeled down so Adri could see Alexander. 

“Hello little Aleskander!” Adri said, then sneezed in his face, spraying him in spit.

Alexander gasped, his eyes popping open wide and his arms flinging out to his sides. “Oh, god…” groaned Annie.

Armin glared at Eren.

“Sorry little guy! I promise she’s not contagious,” said Eren, snatching his backpack from the ground and pulling out a pack of wipes. Alexander’s fists were bopping a mile a minute. His run-in with Adri had been very exciting. Eren held out the pack of wipes for Annie and she extracted one, using it to clean her son’s face while he aired his grievances in a thin wail. He was no longer enjoying his grand adventure now that it included being subjected to torture. 

“He’s crying,” Mason observed, skipping toward them to see the new baby. “Maybe he’s hungry. Mom, can I have a snack?”

“Tan I have one, too?” said Adri.

“I might have something,” said Mikasa. She hadn’t packed anything besides her and Mason’s lunches because they were going to be eating so soon but she might have a bag of chips or a protein bar in her purse that the kids could split.

“I’ll give Aleskander his bottle,” Adri said, putting her hands on her hips and inspecting the baby with an officious nod. “I’s going to take very good care of him.”

Mason grabbed his hair. “You know what? I can’t take it anymore, Adriana!” he shouted. “It’s I’m! Not I’s! You are saying it wrong! You say everything wrong! How can you be so dumb?”

"Mason!" said Mikasa.

Adriana’s face twisted with rage and she punched him.

“Ow!” Mason yelped. “She hit me!”

“Adriana May Jaeger!” Eren barked.

“I think she gave me internal bleeding,” Mason moaned, doubling over and clutching his stomach.

“He said I’s dumb!” Adriana howled.

“I’m,” Mason screeched. “You’re supposed to say I’m! Did you learn to talk at upside-down school?”

“I’s! Too! Little! For! Stool!” Adriana shrieked, punching him again.

“My organs!” Mason wailed.

“Kids with busted organs don’t get to play at the playground,” said Mikasa, sifting through her giant bag with greater urgency. Maybe if their mouths were occupied with chewing, the kids would stop screaming at each other. “Kids with busted organs have to go to the hospital.”

Mason eyed her, then straightened with theatrical uncertainty, patting his abdomen. “Hey! It doesn’t hurt anymore! ” he said as if he were as shocked by the news as any of them. “I’m okay!”

“A miracle,” said Mikasa.

END SCENE!

[moira-mains-go-to-hell]

Hiii can I request mercy x Fem reader that refuse to get treated by her eventho she's really sick and cannot get up on her own. maybe she's scared or smth >< I kinda have a bit trauma from past experiences with visiting Dr so I kinda a bit scared of them loll but thank youuu

Feel free to ignore

I felt that, I didn’t get treated right once for a kidney issue and had two different surgeries.

Off the Clock

Pairing: platonic! Mercy x Reader

Warnings: sickness, medical stuff

“For the last time I am fine,” you grumbled as Cassidy stood in your doorway, a tray with the soup you asked him to get from your favorite restaurant.

“Fine is the ability to come get this from where I’m standing,” he held the bag out on the end of one finger, giving you a ‘come get it’ look and a nod.

“But I am just so comfortable here in my-“ a coughing fit wracked your lungs, a burning ache filling your chest with each heave, “fucking hell.”

“You sound worse than a dog with a stick in its throat,” he walked in, setting the soup on the nightstand next to your bed, “there’s some mucinex in the bag too, but I think you’ll need an exorcist to get anywhere near better.”

“Thanks,” you roll your eyes, looking over at him, “can I get a hand sitting up?”

He sighed and shook his head, helping you up, “go to the doctor. If you can’t even get up then there is definitely something wrong.”

You shook your head, holding up an ‘x’ with your arms, “Cassidy, it’s just a cough and a head ache, please don’t get a medic.”

“Why are you being so stubborn? I need my field partner! You are the only one of these assholes I like out here!”

“Cassidy…” you look at him, a plea behind your eyes, “I don’t do well with all that medical stuff. Please stop asking,” you folded your hands, not quite looking him in the eye.

He sighed, “I don’t think it’s my place to ask about it, so I’m not, but I need you to get through this, if not in three days, I’m calling a damn doctor for you,” Cassidy made the ‘I’m watching you’ hand sign and left, leaving you with your sickness and soup.

The next day he went around the same time to check on you, hearing you blow your nose from outside the door.

“Feeling any- what the-“ he stopped, looking around your room. There where tissues loose on the floor, and your face was a bit more pale than yesterday, your eyes carrying luggage instead of bags.

“I told you to get better! Not worse!” He set the tea he got you in the nightstand, walking towards the door.

“Where are you going?” You tried to sit up but you slipped, wincing a bit as your back hit the bed.

“Doctor,” he cut short as he rushed out, closing the door behind himself.

About a 10 minutes later you heard a knock.

“Don’t come in!” You groan, rolling over on your side as you let out another terrible cough.

“Y/n this is for your own good!”

“Cassidy I said no doctors damn it!”

“It’s not a doctor! It���s Angela!”

“She is literally a doctor!”

“Not of the clock she isn’t! Her shift doesn’t start for another ten minutes,” at that he entered the room, Ziegler in tow.

“Cassidy I told you I don’t do this medical shit-“

“I promise none of the ‘medical shit’ I do is anything terrible,” her voice was soft, but you were still wary, “we haven met yet in person, but I’ve heard much about you, hello, I’m Angela.”

“And I am not the most gung-ho for you to be in my room,” As she approached the side of your bed you scooted away, noticing a small gun shaped device in her hand, “What’s that?” You look from the device to her.

She raised the device to her own forehead, clicking the trigger and showing you the small screen on the back, “it’s a touchless thermometer, I’m only going to take your temperature, is that ok?”

You nod, settling a bit as she pointed it at your forehead.

“You are running a high fever, and based on what Cassidy has already told me, you may have the flu,” she reaches into the bag she had with her and took out two sterile swabs, “I’m going to let you do this part, swipe the inside of both cheeks and as far back in your throat as you can.”

You do as told, handing them beck to her. She puts them into two test tubes, placing them into her bag.

“See? That wasn’t so bad. I only needed two things from you.”

“I guess, but that was just for my little sickness, what about if I where bleeding out or something?”

“Then it would be different I suppose,” she sat on the edge of your bed, “ but would you trust that I would take care of you then too?”

You wanted to say no, to tell her that her efforts were fruitless, but she was so nice. She treated you with so much ease and kindness and you where so rude to her.

“I guess I would,” you tilted your head a bit, looking over at Cassidy who gave you a thumbs up.

“Good, I’ll have your results in an hour, if it’s anything bad, you don’t have to call Cassidy anymore, you’ve got an angel on your shoulder now.”

[loving-barnes]

Medical Hearts - Part 5

A/N: And another one! Wee, I am still writing...

Pairing: Doctor Bucky Barnes x Doctor Female reader or Doctor Steve Rogers x Doctor Female reader

Warning: language, some angst, blood, death of a child

Words: 2000+

Part 4 | Medical Hearts Masterlist

Part 5

“Home sweet home,” Y/N said when she opened the door to her apartment and stepped inside with one of the boxes Wanda owned. 

The brunette kept standing there as a statue with wide eyes as she kept looking inside the apartment. It was a nice place, modern and expensive. She wasn’t lying when she said her parents were wealthy. “Shit,” she whispered. “I mean, we noticed that you lived in a fancy building, but I was not expecting this.” 

“Put the boxes here and let’s get you other stuff. Then, I will show you your new room,” Y/N suggested. 

Together, it took them over half an hour to get every box and suitcase into the apartment. Y/N had to run to the nearest store to buy some boxes for her as they were packing her belongings. To be honest, her ex-roommates were three mean bitches. It was good they kicked Wanda out. She didn’t belong there. 

“One was a bartender, the other worked as an assistant and the third one… well, I have no idea what her job was,” Wanda admitted as they brought the last boxes and finally closed to door to the apartment. “I have no idea how I ended up with them and lived there for over two years.” 

“The timing is perfect,” Y/N grunted when she drooped the last box that was filled with clothes. “I was too alone and with you here, I won’t be anymore.” 

“This place is sick,” Wanda turned around, enjoying the view. “This place must have cost a fortune. Holy shit, girl, how much money do you have?” 

Y/N didn’t want to answer that. “How about I show you your room and you can start unpacking and get some rest. Now,” she started to walk and Wanda immediately followed her. “There is a queen-size bed, wardrobes, table and also your own bathroom.” 

“I have my own bathroom?” Wanda gasped. “Can I ask you how is it possible you have a spare room with furniture?” 

Y/N didn’t answer that. She stopped in front of the door and opened it, not daring to walk in. “Welcome to your new room.” She let Wanda step inside. It was kind of nice watching her walk into the room, turning around while gasping and taking it all in. 

“Thank you,” Wanda smiled at her. “How much rent do I need to pay?” 

“We can talk about it later. Unpack and go rest. If you need something to eat, there is food in the fridge or you can check the pantry.” 

With that, she left her alone and walked through the apartment and inside her room. She closed the door and leant against them. For the first time in over a year, someone was living with her, again. She was ready for it. It was time to move on from everything. Any company would only do her good. 

Y/N went into the living room and sat down on the couch, relaxing a little. She tilted her head backwards, put both arms on top of the backrest and sighed loudly. That’s when she heard the door to Wanda’s room open. 

She walked to Y/N, carefully and cleared her throat. “I have wine,” she waved with the bottle. “You wanna drink?” she asked. 

Y/N looked at her with a grin. “I can’t say no to wine,” she laughed.

She used the opportunity and showed Wanda where can she find the glasses and other utensils. When they finally sat back on the couch, they could talk - mostly about work. That was a topic Y/N was able to talk about. It was too early for personal stuff. Luckily, Wanda could only talk about work… and the cute guy who worked in the bar near the hospital. 

. . .

Y/N put her hair into a low messy bun, so her hair wouldn’t fall into her eyes. She was already in her scrubs and wore her white doctor’s coat with her name on it. Her hospital ID was buckled on the edge of the breast pocket. It’s been two days since Wanda moved in and so far, she was a wonderful roommate. 

She walked out of the locker room and walked down the hall, trying to find something to do. She didn’t know who wanted her to be in their service. 

“My favourite resident,” Stark’s voice was echoing through the hallway and suddenly, he caught up with Y/N. “I want you on my service today which means you will be scrubbing in.” 

“I’m not your favourite resident,” she rolled her eyes with a tiny smile. “But I would like to scrub in with you, Dr Stark. It’s been a while since the last brain surgery.” 

“First, I need to check on a patient,” he informed her and took her into the ICU where a 40-year-old man was lying in his bed, tired after surgery. 

Stark was talking to him, explaining how the surgery went, which also meant he was bragging about how awesome his surgical skills were. Y/N was standing one step behind him, holding a tablet in her hands, checking out the charts. 

That’s when her pager beeped and it showed 911 ER. She sighed and handed the tablet to Stark. “I’m sorry. There is a massive incoming trauma and they need all hands on deck.” 

“Go,” he nodded. “I’ll be there in a few minutes if they need me.” 

Y/N ran down with the rest of the doctors that were called there. The elevator was already filled with people, thus she had to take the stairs. It was faster and she could get some extra exercise. 

When she came into the ER, she was horrified - it was filled with wounded children. They were covered in blood; some had head injuries or broken bones, and other were in trauma rooms, helping them breathe. And more children were coming. The first child that was unattended, she ran to. “Hi,” she smiled at him, checking the wound on his forehead. The boy’s face was without colour and he was silent, just looking around. 

“Can you tell me your name?” she asked him when she started to listen to his heart. 

“Jack,” he replied tiredly. 

“Hi, Jack, can you tell me how you feel and what does hurt?” 

He closed his eyes and slowly opened them again - as if it was the most difficult thing to do. “My head and my stomach,” he replied. “I’m tired.” 

Y/N called for the nearest intern. “Hey, hi,” she smiled at the young man, “I need you to take him to CT immediately and page Stark and Barton to have a look at his scans.” 

He approached the bed and nodded. “Right away,” he said and took called for more nurses to help him with the bed. 

It was chaotic in there. More children were coming inside. She huffed and ran outside to another ambulance that brought a new patient. This time, it was a tiny little girl that was unconscious and they helped her breathe through the tube. “She flatlined on our way here, but we were able to bring her back,” said the paramedic. 

Y/N took out her stethoscope and listened to her heart. “Shit, she has no pulse again,” she said loudly and before they could move, she hopped on top of the girl and started CPR. Before she could register, Wanda and Natasha were by the stretcher, taking them inside. 

“Do not die on me,” Y/N sounded angry as she kept resuscitating the little girl. She was tiny, innocent and on the verge of death. 

They brought them inside trauma room three where a team of nurses were waiting, as well as Dr Barnes. “Talk to me,” he commanded. 

“Eleven-year-old female found unconscious in the bus. She has a firm stomach and she flat-lined on our way here. Dr Y/L/N started CPR as we arrived,” Wanda said as she put on a fresh pair of rubber gloves. 

“We pushed one round of epi and we were able to bring her back,” the paramedic added. 

“Alright, Y/N, let someone else take your place. You are getting tired,” said Barnes with a much gentler voice. Immediately, Natasha put her hands on the patient's chest and started compressions. 

It took a second for Y/N to realise that Barnes said her name. It never happened before. Once she had her feet on the ground, she took a syringe and pushed it into the IV. “I’m giving her another round of epi,” she informed everyone. 

They waited a few moments if it would work, but it didn’t. “Still no pulse, push the crash-cart closer and charge to 150,” said Barnes and took the paddles. “Clear,” he yelled and everyone took their hands off the girl. He charged her once and waited a few seconds - nothing. 

“Push one more round of epi and charge to 200,” he ordered as Natasha started compressions again. Once the medication was in, Natasha stepped aside and let Barnes charge the girl again. 

“Clear,” he said loudly. Again, this attempt failed. 

They tried to bring her back for another twenty minutes, but unfortunately, the little girl lost the battle. Y/N’s hands started to shake a little and she had to take a step back. Wanda noticed it. 

“Call it,” Barnes looked at Y/N. “Call it, Dr Y/L/N,” he kept staring into her panicked eyes. 

It was too much. It all came back to her - everything that happened in the past. All those painful memories were in front of her eyes and she felt as if she suddenly was back when it all happened. 

Without a word, she run away from the trauma room and ran somewhere where she could be alone. There was a place inside the hospital where she could hide. She walked by it a few times and never saw anyone there. There were some old beds and chairs. Maybe someone would use those beds to sleep there when they had the chance. 

It was on the other side of the hospital, that’s why she knew she would be able to stay there, alone and hidden. When she arrived there, she sat on the closest bed, hiding her face in the palm of her hands. That’s when she started to cry. 

And she cried - for how long? She didn’t know. Her body was shaking as the images kept coming to her. It’s been a while and yet, she couldn’t close that chapter of her life. 

“Are you alright?” 

Y/N’s head hastily lifted up and noticed Dr Bucky Barnes standing five steps away from her, watching her like a hawk. His eyes kept locked on her face, trying to capture every single tear on her distressed face. She didn’t say a word, just kept staring at him. 

“I know losing a child is hard,” he took a step closer. “But we have to move on and try to save another one.” 

He thought she would say something to him, give him some kind of reply when she started to breathe heavily as if it was hard to catch her breath. She was having an anxiety attack. 

Barnes kneeled in front of her and grabbed both of her hands into his. “Come on, Y/N, look at me. Look at me and breathe with me, alright? Inhale,” he took a slow deep breath, “and exhale,” and he released everything from his lungs slowly. “Breathe with me.” 

She listened and started to breathe exactly the same way as him. Y/N had her eyes locked with his as they kept breathing together, slowly. 

“That’s good,” he praised her. “You are doing good. Take your time.” 

When it subsided and her body relaxed, one of his hands stroked her cheek. It was unexpected but not unwelcome. “You’ve never had a kid die on you?” he had to ask. 

“I-it’s not that,” she whispered and lowered her gaze. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“That’s alright,” he nodded. “We are not friends. I am an attending and you are a senior resident. We are colleagues.” That’s when he hurriedly stood up and left her there all alone. 

It only made her confused. He hated her guts so why did he come to her, helped her calm down and try to be her friend? That man was a mystery. In the end, she was glad he helped her bring her back to reality.

[eunchancorner]

Revenged and Rescued (Part 3)

I'm not in control anymore, the sticks have take over/silly

-

After a few hours, Henry had been taken off of the pain medication, Charles telling him stories as it wore off and his mind cleared, becoming aware of the aching where skin met metal and the headache as his mind adapted to that fully awake state. The doctors tested each of the sensors on his body in turn, around his upper torso and down his spine, then all along his left arm and hand. Afterwards, he was cleared to leave the tent, and met up with Charles just outside.

“Finally! I can’t wait to show you around!” the pilot cheered as he began to walk with Henry, “It’s a bit to take in, but these barracks are gonna have to be your home for a while before we can actually send you back. I can’t wait for you to meet my squad, I still think they’re gonna love you! Well, in time. Either way, just keep following and you’ll see ‘em in no time!”

Henry looked around as Charles led him through the base. There were a lot of people here, and a lot of equipment, too. A few helicopters stood silently on pads nearby, and there were several jeeps and hummers on standby, many of which had become seats for groups of various soldiers. He noticed how they interacted, friendly and calm, the opposite of what he’d expected for such an important place. One, a particularly old man, gave him a small salute as he passed.

“Anddd here we are! Henry, meet my squad; Quentin, Calvin, Konrad, Mac, Phlex, Andrew, Madd and Eel! Boys, this is-”

“Henry Stickmin, possibly one of the coolest, most badass fuckers to ever live!” one of them cut Charles off as he approached. Henry recognized him as one of the twins Charles was talking about, though which one was unclear.

“Stickmin, we’ve heard a lot about you. As in, a lot. And by that I mean the twins won’t shut the fuck up about you,” a bearded pilot said. “I’m Quentin Alabaster, the other pilot on Charlie’s squad. Although, between you and me, I think I was just assigned to babysit these idiots.”

“Nononono, I don’t think you understand just how cool this guy is!” the other Bukowski twin insisted as he approached, pointing at Henry. “He’s not just the guy who betrayed us, then got betrayed by the Toppats so he took them all out. The West Mesa bustout, the Tunisian Diamond, the first breakout in the Wall in fifty fucking years, all of that was this guy. He does shit just to prove it can be done!”

“Wait, you broke out of the Wall? Damn, we’re gonna have to keep an eye out for their warden, then. He’s pretty pissed, last I heard,” another member questioned, pulling down his sunglasses dramatically. “Madd Ladd, by the way. Fellow badass, expert sniper.”

“By expert, he means the only one on our squad,” yet another member pointed out, before stepping forward to shake Henry’s hand. “Codename Eel at your service, this is my apprentice, Andrew,” He motioned to a soldier with shaggy black hair, who was currently shoveling ramen into his mouth from a cardboard cup. “We’re some of the top engineers here at the base. Although I specialize more in electronics, he’s better with actual mechanical issues. I’ll have to tell Turtle about all the stuff you’ve done, she’s pretty interested in your history.”

“Turtle?” Henry asked, turning to Charles.

“Oh, our demo expert. She’s a little… energetic, so watch out around her,” he explained.

Henry nodded a bit, turning back to the last two soldiers a good distance away, one of which was physically holding the other back as he clawed wildly at the air.

“Who’s…?” he pointed at the two and Charles followed his gaze.

“Oh, that’s Mac and Phlex. Mac is the one holding Phlex back, since he doesn’t really vibe well with people he knows has like.. ever sided with the Toppats? Some of us think he was raised by wolves or something, but hey, at least he hasn’t hurt one of us in a while. Mac, however, is actually really cool. If he wasn’t keeping Phlex from mauling you right now, I’d let ya go say hi. Maybe we can say hi, from here, though!” The pilot cleared his throat before calling out to him. “Hey, Mac, how’s it going?!”

“It’s going fine, just, y’know, making sure Phlex doesn’t kill the new guy!” he called back with an unsteady smile.

“Mhm, and how’s the flower shop?!”

“It’s going good, actually! My brother’s holding down the fort while I’m here, and he says it’s been making decent money! He’s been sending me a cut for a while now, so that’s good!”

“Nice! Well, Mac, this is Henry! This is the guy I’ve been talking about, y’know, the reason you’re kinda having to hold back Phlex right now!”

“Nice to meet you, Henry!”

“Nice to meet you, too!” Henry called back awkwardly.

“How’ve you been- PHLEX NO!” he panicked for a moment before readjusting his grip on his squadmate. “How’ve you been healing up?!”

“Uh, fine, I guess?! It’s kinda weird, being even more cyborg than before!”

“Yeah, I can imagine! Did Charlie tell you that you can see your heart in your chest cavity yet? I thought that was really cool!”

“Yeah, he has! I’m- I’m gonna have to see it myself!”

“Let me know whatcha think, and hey, welcome to base!”

“Thanks!” Henry turned back to Charles, who seemed to be pleased with the whole interaction.

“See? He’s pretty cool. Yeah, something tells me you’re gonna fit in real nicely,” he smiled.

“Yeah, I guess so. One question, though… Why is the whole squad just guys? Should I be concerned about that, or…?”

“Oh, yeah, uh, the girls don’t really feel safe around Phlex, so our squad ended up being just guys so one of them doesn’t end up killing him or something. Even Turtle or Captain Grit won’t come around if Phlex hasn’t been taken somewhere else,” Charles explained, and Quentin sighed.

“Which sucks, because I’d like to have Vicky join our squad. Uh, Vicky is Captain Grit, by the way. But no, I get stuck babysitting wolf boy, over there…” the other pilot groaned, casting a glance at the (still struggling) feral soldier.

“But, still, don’t worry, I think once Phlex has gotten used to you, you’ll fit right in!” Charles assured Henry, patting him on the back. Henry nodded a bit, looking back at the squad in front of him.

It’ll be nice to have friends again.

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Just Swinging By

(Story Post)

Ollie had just finished up in the doctor's office when he got a call from Korsy. He'd told him point blank that he would call Korsy when he was ready, and not the other way around, so he let it go to voicemail. When he thought it was over, he got a second call, however this time it was from Jeffrey. He didn't really know if he was in the mood to talk to his cousin, but Jeffrey was a texter and didn't really call unless he thought it was important, so in case it was an emergency, especially if it was about Ben, he felt like he had to answer.

“Hello.” “Ollie! Hey, um…” “What do you want?” “Why do you have to sound like that? I just want to talk to you about something.” Ollie huffed. “Then talk.” Jeffrey audibly took a deep breath. “Um, so I told you I gave birth a while ago.” “Yeah… Congrats. I saw the pictures.” “Yeah. So, um, you haven't met Noe in person yet, and I was wondering if I could come over?” Ollie sighed. “Jeffrey…” He didn't really want his cousin in his space right now, but this was family, and he had been thinking about meeting this new baby. “Wait, where are you staying?” “I'm still at APID right now.” “I'm there right now, so just tell me where to go.” “Oh, okay! This is good. I was going to have to ask Korsy to drive me, but now I don't have to bother with him…” Ollie could hear a recognisable ‘Hey!’ in the background of the call and he froze up a little. “Korsy's with you right now?” “Yeah… He’d updating me about Bler stuff and he wanted to see the baby, but it didn't feel fair that he'd meet them before you. He's not family.” “You're right about that. Kick him out.” Ollie could hear that Jeffrey had moved away from his phone but could still make out him saying, ‘See? He doesn't want you around either. You don't need to drive me, so go away.’ Korsy's answer was inaudible, but Jeffrey came back groaning. “He won't go. He says he's gotta supervise.” “He doesn't have to supervise shit! He's just making excuses!” Ollie growled. “Well, I can't get him to go away, so are you coming or not? I thought you liked this guy.” Ollie groaned in frustration. “Just tell me where to go.” Jeffrey told him his section and room number, so Ollie asked the nurse at reception how to get there. “Do you have a pass?” she asked. She wasn’t the nurse he was used to, and her blank expressions made him a little nervous. “I have this pass,” Ollie said, showing the key card he used to get in to see the doctor. “That'll only get you as far as the medical ward,” the nurse explained. “You need a visitor's pass to get to the residences.” “Can I get one here?” Ollie asked. “My cousin lives here.” The nurse sighed, shaking her head. “You need to call ahead to the front desk. In non-emergency situation, it can take a week to process a pass.” “That's absurd!” Ollie said. “My cousin just had a baby and I'm just trying to visit for the first time. I'm his closest relative.” “As cousins?” the nurse inquired. “Yes. I'm even his emergency contact.” “Well, contact,” the nurse said. “Contact the front desk upstairs. Now, do you have any question related to your care here today, or can I check in the next person behind you?” Ollie didn't want to hold up the line, so he stepped aside and reluctantly called Korsy. “Hello!” Korsy greeted, all too cheerfully. “Korsy,” Ollie said directly. “Come get me.” “Huh? I thought you were coming here,” Korsy said. “I don't have access. I assume you do.” “Ah, right. Are you at medical?” Ollie paused. “Just meet me at the main entrance.” “Got it. I'll see you there.” Ollie just hung up and made his way to the elevator. He was the first to the main entrance, but as soon as he sat down, the other elevator opened and Korsy stepped out. As soon as his gaze found Ollie, he smiled and walked over, arms wide. “Hey!” Ollie frowned and got up but refused the hug. “Korsy, I’m still not ready. I just want to see my…nibling, right?” “That's right. I've also heard nix or niephling,” Korsy said. Ollie pulled a face. “I dunno about that last one…” Korsy shrugged. “Up to you, I guess. The kid can't speak.” “Right…” Ollie walked back over to the elevator. “Let's go.” “Yeah, I'm coming.” Korsy and Ollie hopped back in the lift and Korsy swiped his personnel key card. The buttons for the floors he had access to lit up and it was nearly all of them. Ollie was a tad jealous, but it only made sense for someone working there. In the elevator, Korsy tried to start a conversation, but Ollie cut him off. “I'm not here for you, to be clear. I appreciate you facilitating this visit with my cousin, but I'm not ready for us to talk again.” “Okay. I just wanted to update you,” Korsy said. “Update?” Ollie frowned. “Why?” “Because I'm gonna be away for a bit,” Korsy said. “Two months. Europe.” “So?” Ollie said. “You've been away before. That's part of your job.” “Right. But before, I'd let you know when I'm back, but since you insist on messaging me first, I wanted you to know when and how long I'd be away, in case you reach out and I can't answer,” Korsy said. “I don't want you to think I'm ignoring you.” “Why wouldn't you be able to answer?” Ollie said. “It's the 21st century. Everywhere has wifi and you can't tell me APID doesn't afford you a roaming plan.” Korsy smirked a little. “They do, but sometimes I gotta go to really remote places with no connectivity.” “Remote?” Ollie raised an eyebrow. “In Europe? One of the most densely populated places in the world?” “There’s still some nooks and crannies.” The doors opened, and they stepped out. Ollie ended the conversation there and just looked for the room number Jeffrey gave him. He didn't have to look too hard though as Jeffrey was waiting outside, sitting with Ben. Ollie approached quickly. “Jeffrey.” “Ollie, hey…” Jeffrey got up slowly and leaned against the wall. “That was fast.” “Yeah, I had—Oh.” Ollie was startled as Ben was suddenly hugging his legs. “Hey, Benny…” He reached down and ruffled the little guy's hair. It warmed him a little to see that his nephew still missed him. “It's been a little bit, huh?” Ben still wasn't the most articulate one year old and could only grip Ollie's pants tight. “Awie.” “Alright. Up you go.” Ollie managed to get him off his leg so he could pick him up. “Jeffrey, where's this baby I'm supposed to meet?” “They're inside asleep,” Jeffrey said, not moving. “So…are you going to let us in to meet them?” Ollie asked. Jeffrey pouted. “They just settled down… I don't want to wake them.” “You can't leave the baby alone in there unsupervised,” Ollie said. “I know, but listen, it is so hard to get Noe down for a nap, and they cry so much, like, can't I just have a minute?” Jeffrey pleaded. Ollie frowned but really Jeffrey did look rather exhausted. “Then stay out here and I'll go in myself. I didn't come down here just to hang around in the hall. You asked me to come meet the baby.” “…” Jeffrey looked at the door and just shrugged. “Okay, okay…” He unlocked the door, and it slid open. The lights were out inside, but there was a nightlight plugged in over the crib at far left side of the room. From its dim illumination and the light from the hall, Ollie could see the mess of the room and overall disarray. He didn't know why he would expect any better from Jeffrey, but it was a bit disappointing to see. Ollie went up to the crib and looked in. The baby inside was fast asleep, sucking on a pacifier. Ollie had never met Wano, so he had no idea what manner of alien to expect, but this purple babe seemed only significantly inhuman in one department. “Holy shit, Jeffrey,” Ollie said, turning back as his cousin made his way up behind him. “You gave birth to a toddler.” “Shh, Noe is perfectly normal size for their species,” Jeffrey said. “Can I see?” Korsy asked, now very curious as he waited by the door. Ollie waved him over. “You have to see this baby. This kid's probably bigger than Ben already.” Jeffrey gave his cousin a quick punch in the arm. “Stop.” Korsy approached swiftly and as quietly as he could, but when he saw Noe, he forgot himself. “Whoa! That kid’s ready to do taxes!” “Korsy!” Ollie snapped back quietly, but it was too late. Noe started to stir, and an achy little whine started up behind the pacifier. Jeffrey’s voice audibly broke. “No…” “Shit, I'm sorry,” Korsy said. Jeffrey reluctantly reached into the crib and lifted Noe out. The pacifier was promptly spat out and Noe started crying, wriggling about and pulling on Jeffrey's clothing. “Noe, come on, you need a nap,” Jeffrey pleaded weakly, trying to bounce his baby gently. “I need you to nap…” Ollie watched as Jeffrey struggled to even just hold the upset infant and he looked to Ben in his arms who just watched his sibling without saying a word. The two kids couldn't be any more different. “Are they hungry?” he offered. “They're never not hungry,” Jeffrey said, exasperated. Nevertheless, he sat down on the bed and lifted his shirt. The babe latched on as soon as their mouth was close enough and started feeding hungrily. “Eager beaver,” Korsy commented. “Don’t watch me nurse,” Jeffrey snapped, covering Noe’s head. “You got me here and you saw the baby,” Ollie concurred. “You can go now, Korsy.” “Come on, really?” Korsy groused. “I can’t just hang out for a bit?” “This isn’t some kind of chill session or something,” Ollie said. “My cousin and I have things to discuss.” “Do we?” Jeffrey pulled a face as he laid his head back against the headboard. “I don’t think we do… I just invited you to see the baby and that’s it.” “I think we need to talk about your current living conditions,” Ollie said, motioning to the disaster that was the room. “How do you expect to raise two kids in this mess?” Jeffrey just closed his eyes as he shrugged. “Really, Jeff, your cousin just wants to know you’re gonna be well off,” Korsy said. Jeffrey didn’t respond to that. Ollie huffed and put Ben down on the bed. “You can’t just ignore all your problems.” “He’s asleep,” Korsy stated. “No, he’s just pretending so he doesn’t have to talk to me,” Ollie said. “No, I think he’s actually asleep,” Korsy said, putting his hands on his hips. “He would’ve gotten mad at me for calling him ‘Jeff’.” Ollie narrowed his eyes and then touched his cousin’s shoulder. “Jeffrey. Hey, Jeffrey.” Jeffrey didn’t answer and his head rolled to the side. “Damn, he’s really fast asleep,” Ollie said, a bit dumbfounded. “I mean, you saw how tired he was,” Korsy considered. “Looked like he was gonna collapse. New babies can be rough.” Ollie sighed, sitting down gently on the edge of the bed. “Noe’s definitely a different baby than Ben. He hardly ever cried.” “Noe’s two babies in a trench coat, I think,” Korsy said. “No way your cousin gave birth to that small giant. I can’t believe it.” Ollie pet Ben’s head gently. “You wanna come outside with your uncle Ollie while your daddy takes a nap?” Ben nodded quickly, starting to scoot towards the edge of the bed and dropping a leg down. Ollie scooped him up and went to the door. “Korsy. Out. Let’s go.” “I’m coming!” Korsy said, following him. They went back out into the hall and Ollie closed the door behind them. Hopefully Jeffrey could get some good sleep in for a bit without them. “Is there a park or something around here?” Ollie asked. “I doubt Ben's had a chance to run around… Wait, Ben can you walk yet?” He put the baby down, stood him up, and Ben clumsily toddled towards him. “Geez, I missed a lot with you…” “They grow up really fast,” Korsy said. “Can't be there to see everything.” Ollie looked at Korsy. “So, is there a park or what?” “Yeah, yeah. There's a park at the school,” Korsy said. “We can go over there. I'll show you.” Korsy took them up and outside, over to APID E and their schoolyard. There were two different playgrounds set up: one small squishy one for the kindergarten and one big jungle gym for the elementary school. They took Ben down to the squishy one and Ollie slipped him into a baby swing. “I used to take Ben to the swings outside my apartment,” Ollie said, making sure Ben’s legs were properly through the holes. “I know he doesn't emote very much but I'd get a few baby giggles out of it.” Korsy sat down on the wood logs that framed the parks and watched them. “I want to hear Ben giggle. I don't think I've heard that.” “Let's see.” Ollie stood in front and gave Ben a little push. Ben stared at him looking shocked and his legs started to wiggle. “Oh yeah, the giggles are coming. Those are giggle wiggles.” Ben grabbed the chain of the swings and continued to stare at Ollie. Ollie gave him a smile and kept pushing him, a little higher each time. “You're flying, Ben.” Ben started to smile, and he kicked his feet out when he went backwards excitedly. After some build up, he started giggling, kicking his legs about every time Ollie pushed him back. “Oh wow! Look at that,” Korsy said. “A real giggler!” Ollie chuckled a bit. “Yeah, you love the swings, don't you, Ben?” Ben didn't stop giggling, and just bounced about in his seat. “Most energy I've ever seen from that kid,” Korsy said. “Ollie, you're really good with babies.” “Just this one,” Ollie said. “Ben's a very calm and attentive kid. Hardly any trouble.” “I see that.” Korsy propped his head up over his knee. “But I think it's more about how you know how to talk to him and understand him. I'm sure you'd even be fine with a baby like Noe.” “Oh god… If they cry as much as my cousin's saying, I think I'd go mad,” Ollie said. “It's not like Ben never cried. And I'd miss work after nights without sleep. I can't deal with that.” “I mean, was your work understanding at least?” Korsy asked. “Yeah,” Ollie said. “Honestly, I had to bring Ben in with me once and my boss thought he was mine and gave me the day off… I was kinda surprised, but apparently, they take family building really seriously there. Next day she was like ‘You should have let me know you were going to have a baby and we would've set you up with paternity leave and yada yada yada’ and I had to break it to her that I was just watching my nephew. I was still off the hook for the day off though.” Korsy chuckled. “Yeah, APID's really chill about that stuff too. If I ever had a kid, they'd make sure we were taken care of.” “That's good, I guess.” Ollie kept his attention on Ben. “You wanna go higher?” Ben nodded. “Up! Up!” Ollie pushed him a little higher, making sure to back up so the momentum didn't swing the kid right into his chest. “Ollie…” Korsy started. “You were at a doctor's appointment today, right?” Ollie frowned. “I already said I don't want to talk about it.” Korsy pouted. “Why not? We're just talking. I just want to make sure you're all good.” “Well, I'm not all good,” Ollie said. “But I don't need to discuss with you.” “Not good?” Korsy blanched. “You're not—” Ollie groaned. “I'm not pregnant, Korsy! Geez, get over it.” “Okay, okay,” Korsy put his hands up. “But then what's not good?” “I still have the damn organ,” Ollie admitted. “The doctor said taking that drug as much as I did might've made it permanent.” “Shit,” Korsy said. “That sucks, dude. I'm sorry.” “It's frustrating…” Ollie started to slow Ben's swings down. “That crap could affect my body for the rest of my life. My body, my sex life, my hormones, who knows what…” “That's rough. I don't know what to say,” Korsy said. “And thinking about it,” Ollie went on, “Jeffrey's probably taken it way more than me. His is probably permanent too. So even though they confiscated that powder shit, he can still go out and have as many random alien babies as he wants with dudes who are just going to leave him in the end.” “Come on, have some faith in your brother. Wano's coming back and Eclulans don't fuck around,” Korsy said. “Cousin.” “Huh?” “You called Jeffrey my brother.” “Oh. Sorry, I mean,” Korsy scratched his head, “Is there any meaningful difference? You were raised together, right? You love him like a brother, right?” “Still a cousin.” Ollie shrugged. “You call Ben your nephew.” “Yeah. He's my cousin once removed, you want me to call him that every time?” Ollie huffed. “Anyway, it's not Wano I'm worried about this time. It's Jeffrey. I don't think he'll last a year without someone to fuck around with.” “So, you think Jeffrey's going to cheat on Wano?” Korsy asked. “He’s up to his neck right now,” Ollie said. “Only way he knows how to ‘solve' his problems is to find a man who'll solve them for him.” Korsy knit his brow. “You really think that lowly of him. You don't think he might've learned something after Bler?” “Don't say that name.” Ollie stopped Ben's swing. “Jeez, sorry… I mean, I hate that guy too, you know.” “If it wasn't for him, Jeffrey and I both wouldn't be in this mess,” Ollie said. “Sure, but you wouldn't have Ben, right?” Korsy said. “You love this kid.” “Ends don't justify the means.” Ollie looked over to Korsy. “Now, I know you have a question so just ask it.” Korsy squirmed a little. “So, I mean… You told me we aren’t friends until you’re clear of the uterus business.” “Yep.” “So, what now? Are you just not going to have sex for the rest of your life?” “Can you not say that in front of Ben?” Korsy waved his arms. “You literally just said like a minute ago and you’ve sworn like so many times! And you told me to ask my question, I woulda waited.” Ollie rolled his eyes. “Well anyway, I don't know what I'm going to do yet. The doctor said it's possible I could have a surgery to remove it, but that kind of stuff… I mean surgery is scary, right?” “I guess.” Korsy thought about it. “Actually, I saw a video yesterday by a girl who said she had a bad reaction to anesthesia and was rendered permanently paralysed below the waist…” Ollie’s eyes widened. “Are you kidding me right now? Don’t tell me that! That’s terrible! Now I’ll never be comfortable with a surgery.” “I mean that was an incredibly rare reaction,” Korsy said. “It has a one in a million chance in happening and it already happened to her, so you’re clear.” “That is not how statistics work, Korsy, holy hell,” Ollie frowned. “I am literally a statistician.” “Is that what you do?” Korsy rubbed his neck. “You never told me.” “You never asked,” Ollie said. “That sounds really boring, damn,” Korsy said. Ollie rubbed his forehead. “It’s mostly just differential and integral calculus. Really, it’s kinda easy.” “You’re talking to straight Cs in math here,” Korsy said. “I don’t even know what a calculus is.” Ollie scrunched his nose. “Anyway, right now I don’t want to get in bed with anyone any time soon until this is all figured out.” “I mean, contraceptives are a thing,” Korsy said. “We could just, ya know, start using them.” Ollie pursed his lips. “You can’t take a no?” Korsy was taken aback. “I can 100% take a no! I’ve been taking nos! It’s just like, I don’t know that you even like hanging out with me if it’s not because we’re…doing it.” “We’re hanging out right now and we’re not doing it,” Ollie said. “You didn’t want me here at all though,” Korsy said. “Because you keep probing me about this sex stuff!” Ollie said. “Well, if we don’t have sex, will you still see me?” Korsy asked. “Stop saying sex!” “You just said it, so I said it! That’s like literally the whole thing! I don’t need it all the time, but our relationship was just that because that’s what you wanted so I gave it to you! It’s not the only thing I do! I can be platonic!” They both went quiet and just looked at each other. Ollie looked back to Ben was just staring up at him from the swing. Ollie sighed and pet Ben’s head. “I guess… If you really just want to hang out to hang out, we can do stuff like that.” “Yeah! Okay, cool.” Korsy licked his lips. “See, we figured it out, right?” “Yeah.” “We just needed to talk it through. Imagine that.” “Yeah…” Ollie looked at Korsy. “So, I guess then if I can’t contact you, you can message me after you get back from your trip.” Korsy lit up. “Yeah? You’re giving me permission to call you?” “To message me. Just to hang out and stuff.” Korsy nodded quickly. “Yeah, just to hang out and stuff.” Ollie’s phone started to vibrate so he answered it. “Hello?” “Ollie!” It was Jeffrey and he sounded worried. “Do you have Ben?” “Yeah, don’t worry. We just went out to the park.” “You should’ve told me! I woke up and he was just gone, I…” “Relax, you were exhausted,” Ollie said. “We just took him off your hands for a bit so you could nurse Noe in peace. We’ll bring him back now.” “We? You’re still with Korsy?” “Yeah, he showed me where the park at APID was.” “There’s a park?” “What? You mean you never took Ben to the park?” “I didn’t know there was a park. We’re in the middle of nowhere. How would I know where to go?” “You just ask somebody. Really, it’s not that hard.” “Just come back right now. Noe’s asleep again so I gotta take advantage to give Ben a bath.” “We’re coming, relax. Clean up your floor.” “Bye. Ollie.” Jeffrey hung up. Ollie rolled his eyes and put away his phone so he could take Ben out of the swing seat. “Come on, big guy.” “I’m coming,” Korsy said, getting up. “I was talking to Ben.” “Oh.”

[winterswhite]

Personal rant, CW for talks of blood and medical stuff

The past 5 days have really been so much for me and it... seriously doesn't feel like only 5 days at all with how much has gone on

On Wednesday evening I got home from work feeling extremely weak after telling my QPP repeatedly that I don't feel good, and after I was no longer able to hold my head up or open my eyes without extreme effort my roommate took me to the emergency room where we waited 9ish hours for me to even be taken to a bed and then one or two more to be seen

When they did get there, they said they needed to take blood, give me an IV, do chest x-rays, and a few other tests (I think they tested me for a stroke too) because clearly a lot was wrong

The nurse tried to put the IV in my left arm and then my hand, failing both times because she couldn't find a vein. She then called over a second nurse, who said since I had already been poked twice, she wasn't going to poke me unless she was sure she had one

She left without poking me.

She called over a doctor to come with a whole ass ultrasound setup to use that to find a vein, and they only found a suitable one in my upper right arm, meaning I had to hold it up at an uncomfortable angle the entire time and because of where it was, it also hurt the entire time (only a little, but still)

They also interrupted it in the middle to take more blood ("well that can't be good")

Also, while they were putting the IV in, I remember them struggling to reach the vein, and the pain from them wiggling it around trying to reach my difficult ass vein, and then hearing "how attached are you to this sweatshirt?"

I had... bled all over it (fortunately they stopped the bleeding pretty fast, very different from my last experience with an IV where I nearly bled out on the hospital floor)

Anyway, after wanting to cry from how uncomfortable the whole experience was but eventually managing to sleep through the last half hour of it, they told me about my bloodwork, and a lot is wrong! Some of the things that have always been wrong with me, and some new things, like low thyroid and low potassium, low sodium etc

They scheduled me for a follow-up appointment in a week and I leave, it is now Thursday morning

I picked up the meds they prescribed me and got home around noon, exhausted from not having slept all night, and napped

Only to wake up to a terrible toothache out nowhere, that at its worst was so bad I couldn't lift a finger

I ran to the dentist but they were closing by the time I got there and told me to come back the next morning

I did, and they said I need an emergency root canal, but that it would be hard to find any endodontists who take my insurance, which... yeah, it proved to be impossible

So now, today, I'm scheduled for the root canal, and I have to pay for the whole $1500 out of pocket

Which I haven't reached, but... I'll have to see what I can manage now

Also, through all of this, my workplace is telling me it's "unacceptable" not to show up to work because they're short-staffed. As if I wasn't stuck in the fucking hospital. I worried about getting fired, because I need that money to pay for the fucking root canal and I hadn't even received my first paycheck, so I went in to work yesterday, but wasn't able to finish a full day of work because I felt like Shit

They still told me they need a doctor's note specifically stating that I can't work for x number of days (even though I gave them my emergency room discharge papers to prove I was unwell) before they could believe that I was actually not feeling well enough to work

So I guess I'm going to ask the fucking endodontist for one

And this cuts into my funds for my trip to take the JLPT and some other things in June, which I also really need so I can get a better job. It is absolutely necessary that I take this trip, but I'll no longer have the money for it yet, and travel costs only go up as you get closer to the date of, so lol.

Anyway. It has not even been 5 full days since I first went to the ER. I need a fucking break.

[bigmouthlass]

Title:  Calculate And Pray

Series: Holler Me Home, part 4

Author:  BJ

Fandom:  Supernatural

Rating:  Explicit

Pairing:  Dean Winchester/You, Dean Winchester/Reader

Synopsis: AU rewrite of S12E7-9. The new family comes to their first serious stress-test.

Tags:  Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, ABO, Omegaverse, AU, Alpha Dean Winchester, Omega You, Omega Reader, Castiel, Alpha Sam Winchester, Omega Mary Winchester, Billie the Reaper

AN:  AU rewrite of S12E-7-9.  All recognizable intellectual properties are owned by their respective creators and holders of any copyrights or trademarks. This is a not-for-profit work of fan art and protected by Fair Use.

---

"Oh hell no," you say as Dr. Sexy dives for cover in the Hollywood backlot passing itself off as a rainforest in Columbia.  "I could make that shot, never mind a mercenary with SEAL training, I don't care if he washed out or not."

"Well," Dean says through a mouthful of popcorn, "it is a tricky shot, with the rain and the leaves and everything.  And it's so humid in the jungle he can't use a scope."

"No excuse."

Groaning, Dean throws a popcorn kernel at you.  "Look I don't say anything when you watch those shockumentaries about Nazis."

"That's because you like watching them and gloating."  You grin at him.  "For the record, it will never stop being a turn on that I get to fuck the guy who killed Hitler."

Dean leans over and gives you a kiss, in that hollow behind the point of your jaw.  "Better than free drinks," he whispers into your ear.

You turn your head and press your lips to his, smiling.  "How often does a girl get a compliment like that?"

"Guys?" Sam breaks in, carrying three beers in the fingers of one hand.  "I thought we agreed-- bedrooms only."

"Relax Sam, we're not ripping each other's clothes off," Dean says.

"Yet," you add.

Rolling his eyes, Sam passes out the beer and sits in the battered recliner he's claimed as his own, in the cleared-out storage room Dean’s sworn will one day be a Den of Awesomeness.  "Oh come on," he groans as Dr. Sexy puts his Stetson on a stick and the sniper shoots it dead center.  "Like any sniper would be tricked by that."

"I'm saying!  Waste of a shot," you agree.

"You two are no fun, at all," Dean gripes.

"Dude, a guy wearing cowboy boots for sixteen hour shifts tests my suspension of disbelief plenty."

"Shyeah," Sam agrees, and the two of you clink your beers.

"Shut up," Dean grumbles, "you . . . anti-fun . . . stuff ruiners."

You mime pulling a zipper across your lips and continue to watch Dr. Sexy bark medical-sounding things to the spunky Columbian doctor whom he's kind of infatuated with while small arms fire crackles around them.  You're guessing there's gonna be a lost tribe plot twist coming up somewhere, maybe of athletically hot Amazons who eat their mates--

Your phone rings, an electronic rendition of The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies.

“Shit."

---

"I told you," you tell Dean, zipping up and shouldering your ruck, "I'm doing this solo."

"No, you are not," Dean tells you.  As you move for the door he slams an arm across the frame, blocking your way.  "What's going on?"

"Call for help from a friend," you explain.  Again.  "I should be back in a couple weeks."

"What, you get to tag along on our hunts but not vice-versa?" Sam asks from the hallway.

You glare at them both.  "These friends are shy, and these friends will shoot you for a stranger if you show up with me.  And since when do I," you sarcasm quote, "'get to,' 'tag along'?"

"Sorry.  Bad choice of words," Sam concedes.

"No shit."

"Can you at least tell us what the job is?" Dean asks.

"What part of 'I can't tell you,' are you having difficulty grasping?"  You duck under Dean's arm, only for Sam to grab the strap on your ruck and haul you back like someone pulling a dog up short by the collar.

"Let her go Sam," Dean says.  "She doesn't trust us, that's fine."

"It's not a matter of not trusting you," you try to explain.

"Sure," Dean says, his tone etched in acid, "you're just not, y'know, trusting us."

You round on him and meet his glare straight on.  "I am trusting you.  I am trusting you to accept my judgement.  I can work this myself.  All you and Sam can do is get your heads blown off.  These people do not believe in loose ends."

"So don't go at all," Sam says.

"Have to," you say.

"Why?"

Easy to forget these two are an extremely effective interrogation team.  "Never mind.  I'll be back in a week or so."

"God dammit," Dean says, pacing you, "you are not going anywhere."

You stop dead in your tracks.  "Use Alpha voice on me, Dean Winchester," you warn, "and I swear I'll slice off your balls and grind your knot into hash."  Back on the march, leaving both brothers speechless behind you.  "Don't think I can't do it!"

---

This favor's pretty straightforward-- salting and burning the body of one of Peg's associates, along with laying down the proper rites preventing a ghost from being summoned.  The biggest bitch is the travel time; first there’s a trip back to Chicago because that’s where you left your clean passports, then to Laredo, plus having to change vehicles to cross the border, plus another vehicle change in Monterrey, plus another endless drive to Tampico.  You get a box of tea cakes, sincere thanks, and a solemn promise for any favor you might need.  You also make a mental note to figure out a way to take the boys on vacation-- Tampico's beautiful in the spring and Dean would fall violently in love with the torta de la barda.

On the way, news comes over the wire of Vince Vincente's death and you call the boys.  Neither one of them answers.  Concerning, but not panic worthy, you tell yourself.  There are times they have to go incommunicado on the job.  Or Dean's being a little shit and giving you the silent treatment.

Your phone rings as you waddle the RV out of Laredo.  A voice with a heavy British accent asks your name.  "You got her."

"Good evening.  My name's Mick Davies.  Men of Letters, London chapterhouse."

"Right!" you say.  "The folks whose negotiation strategy involved blowtorches."

"Yes well," he says, sounding a mite exasperated, "as I've explained, several times, that was an operative acting outside her orders.  She's been removed from her position and disciplined for her actions."

"Splendid," you say dryly.  "Is there a purpose to this call?  I'm driving."

"I've been instructed to approach certain Hunters operating within the United States and discuss the possibility of partnership with our organization.  Would you care to meet me for lunch and talk it over?"

Not really trembles behind your lips.  You're more pragmatic than that, though.  "I'll tell you what.  Can you be in Dallas by three PM tomorrow?"

"Easily," Davies says.

"Meet me at Maple and Motor.  It's a hamburger joint on Maple Street, near Dallas Love Field airport.  Try the brisket sandwich."

"I'll do that.  See you there."

You disconnect, and call Dean.  Still going straight to voicemail.  "Hey.  I got a call from a guy name of Mick Davies.  That's the guy gave you and Sam his business card, right, British Men of Letters?  I got a meeting with him tomorrow.  I'm guessing sales pitch.

"Anyway, call me when you get this.  It'd be really good to hear your voice."  You swallow.  What the hell?  "I love you.  See you tomorrow night."

---

"Let me paint you a picture, of a world without monsters."

You chew on your tater tot, giving your lunch date the once-over.  Average height, craggy features, permanent five'o'clock shadow, English accent but not a super posh one you don't think.  His attitude is relaxed but his clothes don't fit the ambience.  You've been around enough to know professional tailoring when you see it.  At your elbow, the dingy jukebox plays some Fogarty.  Unconsciously, your thumb taps a beat on the table.  "Put me in Coach, I'm ready to play . . ."

"Of a world without vampires, werewolves, demons, or any of those other little buggers that go bump in the night.  Where no one has to die because of the supernatural."

"'When we ain't gonna study war no more?'" you ask.

Mick Davies looks a little confused for a second, but just a second.  "Heinlein.  Starship Troopers."

"Yes Mr. Davies, I can read," you assure him.  "I can also shoot a dime group at 500 yards, machine match-quality silver ammunition, knit Continental style, and dance a waltz."

"Then you can understand," he says, "the current situation in America is madness.  The decentralized approach saves lives but doesn't get at the root of the problem.  Now we can provide intelligence, technology the likes of which you've never seen.  You need lore?  We have access to the best libraries in the world.  You need training?  Our Hunters receive special forces training cribbed directly from the SAS-- erm, that's the British--"

"Special Air Service, roughly the infantry equivalent of the Navy SEALs.  Motto 'Who Dares Wins,'" you recite dryly.  "I might be poor white trash from Middle Of Nowhere Michigan but please don't treat me like an idiot Mr. Davies.  Assume you're talking to a grownup and I'll ask questions if there's something I need clarification on."

Davies sighs through his nose.  "I apologize ma'am."  Ma'am comes out mum.  "I've spent too long around company men, makes me forget my manners.  What I'm trying to say is," he leans forward and lowers his voice a little, putting the two of you in confidant space, "America can be made safe, with your help.  All you have to do is come when we call, and do what we tell you.  Legwork becomes a thing of the past."

"Hmm."  You're not Irish but your godfather was, and he had a saying-- Beware Englishmen bearing gifts.  You've spent enough time wrangling spirits dating from the French and Indian War to know there's a mighty big nugget of practicality in that advice.  "The issue with that approach is those of us on the ground sacrifice a lot of flexibility when circumstances change.  Which they inevitably do.  And not to point out the obvious but it's a lot easier to maintain a quarantine zone when the land mass in question is geographically isolated.  To achieve similar results in the United States would mean interdicting the entire Western Hemisphere, unless your plans include putting up a wall at the Panama Canal."

"I'm not saying results would be achievable within our lifetime," Davies says.

"Of course not, that's ridiculous," you say.  "I'm questioning whether they would be achievable at all.  At one point we all assumed vampires were extinct-- not even close.  They were laying low, building their numbers back up under our noses."  You finish your bacon cheeseburger and wash it down with a sip of your pop.  As you do, your phone chirps.  It's Castiel.

Excusing yourself to Davies, you pick it up.  "M'yello."  Cas tells you, and all the blood in your body turns to road slush.  "I'm on my way.  Be there in about eight hours."

"Has something happened?" Davies asks.

"Private business," you tell him, pulling a twenty out of your pocket and laying it on the table.  "I'm sorry but we're going to have to continue this discussion some other time."

"Of course.  I'll be in touch."  He stands when you do and you shake his hand when he offers it.  He doesn't let go right away.  His affect softens a little.  "Is there anything I can--"

"No," you cut him off, extract your hand, and all but run out of the joint.

---

"Let's recap," you say, with what you think is saintly patience and calm.  "The good news is, the leader of the free world is Devil-free, with said Devil back in the slammer.  The bad news is, the Devil got the President's mistress pregnant, said mistress is missing, and Sam and Dean have been taken by a vague yet menacing government agency and are probably on their way to an abandoned mine shaft to be unpersoned as we speak.  Do I have that straight?"

Castiel gulps.  "I do not understand those references--"

"You grasp the fucking meaning," you snap.  You pace away from the map table, because if you have to look at Castiel or Mary right now you're going to do something the boys will never forgive you for.  Your hands ache for a weapon, and a target to kill.

"Why?" Mary asks, sounding small and a bit lost.  "If they needed help, why didn't they call me?"

When you and Mary met, you'd taken a look at the desolation on Dean's face as she walked away and resolved to keep your opinions on her to yourself.  That resolution goes in the wastepaper basket.  This is not the time to regret treating one's kinfolk like nobodies.  "Why in God's name would they call you?  You needed space, remember?"

"And where were you?" Mary demands, strong jaw clenched and looking so much like her sons you want to scream.  "You're practically mated to Dean.  Your place is with him."

"Discussions of place,” you say.  “Are we really going to go there, Mrs. Winchester?"  She's right of course, and it scores a long bleeding wound down through your heart.  Obligations or not, you should have been with the boys for this.  "How much 'unfinished business' did you have to 'work through' when you had an Alpha and a pup at home who needed you?  Or did you think of it like, I dunno, being in the Reserves?  A weekend a month, two weeks a year?  Just enough to believe you earned the right to stand next to real heroes like your sons?”

"That's unfair," Castiel tries to break in, "and beside the point."

You take a breath, try to take hold.  Now is not the time.  “Right.  Is there a way you can track them?  Are they praying to you?” you ask Castiel.

“They pray to you?” Mary asks.

“Angels can hear prayers addressed specifically to them,” Castiel clarifies.  “Yes they are but they’re both warded against angels.  Including me.”

“Okay, so they’re alive.  Unharmed?” you ask.

“As far as I can tell,” Cas says.  “But I cannot get a fix on their location, and they themselves don’t know where they are.  I can’t--”

Your patience dies, bloody and screaming.  "You know what?  Screw you.  I'll find them myself."  Ignoring Castiel calling your name you grab your bag and march out.

Once you're back in the RV, you indulge and let yourself collapse.  Captured with the motherfucking President.  Assuming they weren't just taken to the nearest gravel pit and shot--

"Don't think that," you tell yourself.  "It's Dean and Sam and they're alive until definitely proven otherwise.  First step, crime scene."  You start up the RV and hit the road.

---

The crime scene's a bust.  Whatever evidence might've been there's been thoroughly Mr. Cleaned out of existence.  No damage, no zing of leftover magics, none of that twitchy sense that comes when angels are in the neighborhood.  Not even a hint of scent.

Of course.  If Cas couldn't pick anything up -- Castiel, who's practically welded to Dean -- then you sure as hell weren't going to find jack shit.  If you were claimed, maybe--

You cut yourself off.  You're not, so that's a line of speculation not even worth going down.

The next few days, you comb the area for witnesses.  Not surprisingly, most of them are unhelpful.  Either out of fear or payola.  Finally, you find an insouciant kid with a FUCK THE POLICE tattoo on his chest who points down Highway 87, going west.

Traffic cams are a zilch, either because the spooks took a route that avoided them or altered the recordings.  Neither would surprise you.  Witnesses come up dry.  The best trail you can find is a few stray mentions on social media, folks wondering about the military-looking convoy passing through the neighborhood.  You don't sleep much, and when you do your dreams are bad.  Dean's scent fades from the RV day by day, like he's leaving you an inch at a time.  Like someone's taking the marrow from your bones, scoop by scoop.

The less said about your first heat alone since Dean crash-landed in your life, the better.  On Thanksgiving Day no less.  The irony's too bitter to be funny.

When it's over, you take a long shower, bandage the gouges on your arms and your sides, clean the blood and scraps out from under your nails, and do what you've known was inevitable since the minute the boys went missing.

"Da?"

---

You've been bedded down in a hide for most of the night, wrapped in a scent-killing ghille suit patterned on leaf litter.  Clearly, the government spooks who run this place count on its remoteness for secrecy.  The only way in or out is an old Park Services track engineered to look like it was last used around the Reagan administration.  Your intel says the forest for about two klicks around is monitored by motion detection cameras.  Pairs of soldiers in full battle-rattle walk foot patrols three or four times a day.  Not an acceptable risk, getting the drop on them and stealing their entry cards.  Places like this, the guards know each other on sight and you haven't seen a single woman or scented a single Omega yet.  There's no indication this is even the right place.  It's just the closest one to where the wagon taking Sam and Dean was last seen.  If the spooks took them further west, forget it they're gone and you're never getting them back.

And that's what you're thinking when two figures scurry out of a side door.  You look through your scope and your heart stops.  "Pizdets!"

Dean stops to talk on a phone and Sam searches one of the cargo trucks, coming up with a map.  A wild hope Dean will look up and see you gets thrown out the window when he tosses the phone and the boys make tracks roughly west-northwest.  You emerge from your hide and start running on an intercept course.  There's a stream about six klicks away.

You beat them to it and crouch in a hollow beneath a half-fallen tree.  You give the Winchesters credit, they're about as quiet as they can be considering they're trying to make time in broken country they don't know.  You peek around the tree trunk.  Dean's the in the lead, because of course he is.  Heart pounding a quickstep in your chest, you take off your gloves, hood, and mask, rub your palms where the sweat's collected behind your ears, and start scatting the riff to "Heartbreaker."

Sam's head perks up.  He touches Dean's arm, then cups a hand behind one ear.  Frowning, Dean follows Sam's pointing finger downstream.  They're about ten yards away when you hear Dean snort a breath in through his nose.  You fan your hands, letting the barely there breeze carry your scent.  Dean takes a deep breath through nose and mouth, pulling as much air as possible across the Jacobson's organs in his sinuses.  You can see it when it clicks what he's scenting.  It's like a firework going off; his whole being blazes.  Ignoring stealth, he splashes across the little stream and the next thing you know he's in your arms and chanting your name and there are tears burning your cheeks.  Yours, his, who cares?  Every cell in your body sobs in relief.

Sam wraps his arms around you both.  "How the hell did you find us?"

"Long story.  I will tell you everything later.  Right now we need to move.  There's an old trapper's shack maybe another three hours march west-northwest.  I've got supplies and weapons stashed there."

"We have to count on them knowing about it," Sam points out.

"I know, which is why we have to beat them there."  You have to physically force your arms to turn Dean loose.  From the tension in his body, Dean does too.  "Come on.  And keep your ears open, I haven't been here long enough to map patrol routes."

Dean grabs your face and gives you a short, hard kiss.  Alpha’s here and it acts on you like a bolt of thunder.  "God I love you.  Lead the way."

---

The problem with full battle-rattle on patrol is you sacrifice a certain sensitivity to the environment, especially if your routine is day after day counting the same trees.  The pair you encounter after about an hour of steady jogging barely have time to widen their eyes before Sam's got one in a sleeper hold and you drop the other with a hard punch to the nose.  They're both carrying zip ties, so you secure them hands and feet while Sam and Dean loot their weapons and ammunition.  Just being armed is a huge stress relief, you can see it.

For your part you've got your Glock on your hip and your TAC-50 cased on your back, ammunition and supplies strapped to your body.  The extra weight's starting to tell and you know it's not doing you any favors as far as tracking.  If the bad guys are on your trail they're going to know you're a party of three, one a woman and an Omega.

"Negative copy, say again?" comes a voice from one of the soldiers' radios.  "Norton?  Norton, this is Sanchez.  Norton, do you copy?"

Dean picks up the radio.  "Norton has gone night-night."

"Winchester," the voice on the other end says.

"This the man in charge?"  At the affirmative, Dean says, "Let me tell you how this is gonna go.  You're gonna call your boys, and you're gonna turn around, and nobody's gonna get hurt."

You catch Sam's eyes and shake your head.

Called it.  "No no," Sanchez says.  "Here's how this is gonna go.  I take my highly trained soldiers, track your ass down, and you get hurt.  A lot.  You can't run forever.  You're trapped out here."

The bad guys never get it; these kinds of statements from any Winchester are like the Godfather talking about offers you can't refuse.  It's not a negotiation gambit, it's a warning shot.  "Well," Dean drawls, smiling in a way that makes his eyes go hard and pitiless, "what we have here is a failure to communicate.  Because we're not trapped out here with you.  You're trapped out here with us."

Sam knows a dramatic cue when he hears one and slams a fresh clip into the MPX he'd lifted off Norton.  Dean tosses the radio.  You take your bearings and take off.  Night's coming down fast and there's no way you're going to reach the road before the bad guys catch up.  That leaves Plan B.

---

Plan B goes pretty smoothly, all things considered.  Pity you're under strict instructions not to take kill shots.  You could drop about half the squad, easy as sneezing.

Within minutes, it's over.  The soldiers are all unconscious or disabled, and the squad's leader is on the ground with a broken ankle.  For a moment an older gentleman with a long, mournful face gets the drop on Dean, until Sam shows up cocking a shotgun.  "Don't."

You take the older man's sidearm.  Camp, says the patch on his vest.  "If the plan was assassination," you point out the obvious, "the President would be dead.  Last I knew he was alive and well and prepping for the transition."

"He lost the election?" Sam asks.

"Quit campaigning at the last minute," you reply.  "Guess we know why."

"You're the sniper?" Sanchez says, spying your rifle.  He takes a sniff.  "Unbelievable."

"Watch that," you warn.

"You want the truth?" Sam asks, keeping his weapon up and his finger tight on the trigger.  "The President was possessed, by the Devil.  We saved his life.  That's the truth.

"Now you can take that and do what you want with it," Dean says.  "But come after us, you know what'll happen."

Both men look at the two holes in the shack's wall.  Holes you put there, less than three inches from their heads.  You'd brag, but the work speaks for itself and both these professional eraserheads know it.  Sanchez looks like Donald Duck about to explode into a hopping-on-one-foot fist-waving temper tantrum, but he clenches his jaw and nods.

Dean and Sam sling their weapons and walk away.  You cover their backs, but thank God the bad guys know when they're whipped and nobody takes any cheap shots.

"Who are you people?" Camp demands.

Over the barrel of your Glock, you tell him.  "Those are the guys who save the world.  A lot."

---

The march to the road is long, uncomfortable, and thank God uneventful.  You hear a rustle in the underbrush and suddenly there's Castiel, tan overcoat and all.  "Sam.  Dean."  He looks so relieved he might cry.

Dean freezes, rooted with shock.  For a second you see it, the awareness he won't let himself have for so many reasons.  You've gotten used to shoving away a sting of jealousy when you see that look.  Like it or not, Dean and Castiel are bonded in a way no one else can touch.  Not even you.

"Cas," Sam pants, shoving past Dean and wrapping Cas in a hug.  You scan your surroundings and catch sight of a head of golden blonde hair.  Sam does too.  "Mom!"

"Hey buddy," Dean says and grabs Castiel in a hard hug.  Mary's right there too and Dean switches to hold her, ever so gently.

Cas catches sight of you.  "How did--"

"Later," you brush him off.  "We gotta hit the road.  Like, now."

"How did you even find us?" Sam asks as your little group emerge from the thick tangle of bush and bramble lining Route 34.

Mary cocks her head at the road, where two men in overcoats lean casually against the hood of a car.  "They helped."

"'Allo lads," Mick Davies hails.  He sees you and nods, smiling, "Madam."

"They had a thermal imaging satellite that saw you," Castiel explains.  "From space."

"Borrowed it, temporarily," Davies clarifies.  "Friends in the right places."

"It barely saw you a'tall," the other man says.  "We thought there might be a wolf or a mountain lion stalking the boys."

"Nosir," you say.  "Just me and my," you pluck the collar of your suit, "designer threads."

"I see.  Pray tell," the taller Man Of Letters asks, eyeing you up and down in a way that makes you yearn to plunge a knife in his throat, "how did you find them?"

"Luck," you say, because it's mostly true.  "An associate of mine knows about some of the government's off-the-books facilities.  I happened to pick the right one."

"Does this associate have a name?"

You give him a look.  "They like their privacy."

"Of course," he says with a little excuse-me smile.  "Forgive me."  You don't.  One doesn't hang around dedicated killers for as long as you have without recognizing Bad when you smell it.

"I guess this is where we're supposed to say 'thank you,'" Dean says.  The sarcasm is for the Brits, the light in his eyes is for you.

"No need," Davies says.  "Happy to be of service."

"Again," the other man adds.

"Okay then," Sam says.  "We should get.  The people we left, they'll call for backup any time."

"'Backup'?"  The taller Brit's urbane expression doesn't budge but his eyes narrow.  "You left survivors?"

"They're soldiers, just doing their jobs," Dean cuts him off.

"Still.  A bit unprofessional."

"Depends on what line of work you're in," you remark.

"We'll handle it."  Sam tics his head away.  "Let's get."

You settle into the backseat, with Cas on the other side and Dean playing Monkey In The Middle.  Sam's shotgun with Mary.  Your hand finds Dean's and your fingers interweave.  You rest your head on his shoulder and just take him in, all his Dean-ness.  You feel like you could sleep for days, just like this.  Your eyes close when you feel Dean's lips against your temple.  Weeks of going through the motions.  You're alive again.

"So wait," Dean says, "you're Hunting?"

"A little bit," Mary admits.  "Just keeping the shop open."

"Yeah I knew you couldn't stay away," Sam says, smiling.

Mary glances at you in the rearview mirror.  "So you broke them out?"

"No, they were in the process of breaking out when I found them," you say.  "Speaking of which, how did you do that?  If Camp is who I think he is, you two were locked down tighter than Fort Fucking Knox."

"Yeah," Dean says, looking bleak.  "Forty-six days alone in an eight-by-ten closet."

"Jesus fucking Christ."  You throw your arms around Dean and hold him, make a mental note to do the same with Sam when you all get back to the bunker.  They're going to need some low-sensory-input downtime, with as much close contact as they'll let you give.  Dean tips his head and you can feel the warm wind of his breath as he takes in your scent.

“Missed you,” he says, so quietly.

The car's engine chokes and dies, and the car coasts to a stop on a bridge.  "What the hell?"  Mary pumps the gas, tries the key.  Nothing, not even a click from the starter.

"It's time," Sam says, and opens the door.  Dean nudges at you and he follows you as you climb out.  The look he gives you and Cas is . . . shady.  Guilty.  Like he's about to confess to something horrible.

The question -- how did you do that? -- echoes in your mind and terror grips your insides.  "Dean what did you do?"

He doesn't answer.  He won't even look at you.

"What's happening?" Mary asks as she gets out of the car and pulls a pistol.

"Yeah Dean."  There's a new figure standing in front of the car, a statuesque black woman with curly hair and blood-red lips.  "'Sup?"

"Billie?" Mary asks.

"The Reaper?" Cas adds.

In a flash, you put it together.  "No."

"There was only one way were getting out of there, and that wasn't breathing," Dean explains, not looking at you, or Cas, or anybody.  "So I made a call."

"And we made a deal," Sam confirms.  "We'd get to die and come back one more time, but in exchange--"

"Come midnight, a Winchester goes bye-by.  Like, permanently."  Satisfaction oozes from Billie like slime from a lamprey, and in that moment you want to tear her apart with your claws more than you want to continue breathing.  "And that, is something I've been looking forward to for a long time."

"Why would you--" Mary starts, all the blood drained from her face.

"We were already dead," Dean says.  "Being locked in that cell, with nothing . . .  I've been to Hell," Dean says, desolate and empty as the mountains of the moon.  "This was worse."

"At least this way one of us gets to keep fighting," Sam says.

"Fuck YOU you do," you snarl, shoving Dean so hard he falls and pulling your Glock, pointing it at the Reaper's smug bitch face.  "Over my dead body you take them."

"That," Billie tells you, "can be arranged.  But one way or another, one of them dies.  We made a pact, bound in blood.  You break that, there's consequences.  On a cosmic scale."

"Yeah right," you scoff.  "I'm supposed to trust the word of the afterlife's package carrier.  Fuck you.  You get nothing."

"Drop it."

Your teeth clench.  "Fuck you Winchester," you growl.

"I said," Dean's voice drops an octave and rumbles, an Alpha commanding their Omega, not to be ignored or disobeyed, "drop it."

Your arm sags and Dean takes your weapon away.  "God damn you," you whisper.

"She's right, you don't have to do this," Castiel says.

"You're right."  All of you turn to look at Mary, as she steps forward.  She's got her pistol in her hand.  "You said come midnight a Winchester dies, right?"  She pulls the collar of her shirt aside, showing two arcs of scar tissue at the juncture of neck and shoulder-- the marks made by John Winchester, the testament of their mating Bond.  "I'm a Winchester."

"Works for me," the Reaper agrees, and Mary puts the pistol to her temple.

"Mom no!" Dean cries.

"Don't!" Sam shouts.

"I love you," she whispers quietly, and her finger starts to squeeze.

Billie arches backwards as the point of an angel blade pops out of her chest.  Light bursts from her open eyes and mouth and she falls over, dead before she hits the ground.  Behind her stands Castiel, blood on his blade and a shocked look on his face.

"Cas what have you done?" Dean whispers.

"What had to be done," the former warrior of God says.  "You know, this world-- this sad, doomed little world.  It needs you.  It needs every last Winchester it can get and I will not let you die.  I won't let any of you die.  And I won't let you sacrifice yourselves.  You mean too much to me-- to everything."  You shut your eyes.  It's as close to a confession as Castiel will ever come.  "Yeah.  You made a deal.  You made a stupid deal, and I broke it.  You're welcome."

"I--" Mary starts, but cuts herself off.

"You son of a cocksucking bitch!" you snarl at your Alpha.  Was it five minutes ago you were holding him, trying to make him feel safe and whole again?

"What the hell you mad at me for?" Dean demands, shock turning to anger and pointing straight at you.

Your palm cracks against his cheek, leaving a red print like a brand.  "You had no right to swear that oath!"  You glare at Sam as he opens his mouth.  "Neither of you."

"We're not mated," Dean reminds you.  "You got no claim on me!"

"The fuck I don't!  What, you were just gonna take a dance with Death and leave me here?  What if I hadn't been here?  Would I have rated a fucking goodbye letter or would you've just sent a breakup text?  Did you even think?  Did you even care?"

You can see the answer in the way his eyebrows arc up, just a little.  No, it hadn't occurred to him, who he'd leave behind.  There's Sam, there's Mary, there's Cas . . . and everybody else.

"Then it would've been me," Sam tries to break in.  "Dean's got you.  I don't--"

"And if you think Dean would want to live in a world that don't have you in it, you're the smartest fucking moron I've ever met in my life!”  You pivot on one toe and start walking.  Right now you don’t trust yourself not to do something lethal to the man you love.

You get maybe ten yards before Dean catches up and grabs your arm.  "Where the hell're you going?" he snaps.

"Denver.  From there I'll catch a bus."

"No you won't."

You turn and punch.  Dean blocks it and twists your arm around your back.  "Calm down!"

"Let me go!"

"Not until you cool off!"

You stamp hard on the arch of his foot and elbow him in the gut.  No good.  His arm's like a steel band across your abdomen and if he jerks any harder he's gonna break your arm.

Cas touches two fingers to your forehead and everything goes black.

---

You wake up in your bed in the bunker, down to the tank and leggings you'd been wearing under the ghillie suit.  Castiel's sitting next to the bed.  "Are you all right?" he asks.  "How do you feel?"

"Like an angel KO'ed me," you tell him dryly.  "Where's Dean?"

"He's out getting supplies."

You snort.  "Naturally.  Fucking coward."

"If it's any comfort, he's not speaking to me either."  Cas hands you a bottle of water as you swing your legs off the bed.

You gulp the bottle so fast the plastic crumples.  "How long was I out?"

"Roughly ten hours."

Pitching the bottle into the wastepaper basket, you say, "That was a pretty shitty thing to do, Cas."

"Dean would not have left without you, and you were not in a rational frame of mind."

The memory hits like cold needles under your skin.  "He used Alpha voice on me, Cas.  I've told him how I feel about that.  On top of everything else.  It's like a double fuck-you."  You clench your jaw on tears.  For fuck's sake, you've cried more in the last few months than you have in the last ten years.  "Like why did we even bother finding them?  If I'd been able to get to them a day sooner--"

"I know."  His usually stony expression's gone especially bleak.  And . . . ashamed?  "You should know; Mary and I, we didn't find them.  I was unable to find any leads as to their location.  I only learned where they were when Dean called me."

The phone call you'd watched him make.  So you really didn't rate a final message.

Hesitating, like he's expecting you to shy or slap him away, Cas puts a hand on your shoulder.  "I'm sorry."

"What for?  You weren't the one who was an inch away from killing himself.  Or herself."

There are times when Castiel's protective camouflage slips and you can see how other-than-human he really is.  Tiny striations of pure light shine in his vessel's blue eyes and the hand on your shoulder is heavy, like he's not sure how much a hand should weigh.  "Killing a Reaper, breaking a blood oath; Billie was correct about catastrophic implications."

"Screw that.  They had no right to make that deal in the first place."  A tear rolls out of your eye and you palm it away.  "No right at all."

Something in Cas's face relaxes.  It's relief.  Shit, he must've caught pure Hell for what he did.  And why?  For refusing to be an accessory before the fact to the murder of the men you both love?

On impulse, you wrap your arms around the angel, one hand petting up into his hair and rubbing the way your mother did when you were a kid after a crying fit.  "Thank you," you say against his ear.  "Thank you."

Slowly, his arms go around you and hold you.  "Why?" he asks quietly.  "Why are they both so determined to embrace their own damnation?"

"I don't know Cas."  Which isn't entirely true, but Cas knows the boys better than you ever will, and you wouldn't presume you have any deeper insight into their characters than he does.  "Those jackasses are damn hard on those of us who love them."

---

"Look I don’t know what you’re feeling right now Dean-- no no," you mutter, squaring your shoulders and jabbing the heavy bag.  Sweat stands out on your body and your arms are starting to ache.  Your own damn fault, not keeping up with your conditioning.  Almost two months of chasing your Alpha to that gulag in Colorado then finding out he’d agreed to kill himself--

“I don’t know what you’re feeling-- don’t know, don’t know.”  Another combination.  “I don’t know.  I don’t know.  What.  You’re feeling.  What are you feeling?  Stupid question, you’re feeling . . . feelings.”  Kick combination, left then right.  “Stop it, that’s not helping.”  You lean against the bag and pant your wind back.  “Okay.  I’m an Alpha just got out of the Reclusion cells on Ilse du Salut, swore a blood oath to do it, my best friend broke that oath, and . . . motherfucker, Dean, you cannot expect me to join in your pity-party because I agree with Cas and I don’t want you to fucking die, all right?”

Over to where you’ve put down mats and you start stretching out your warm muscles.  “Be supportive.  Be a nice supportive Omega-- oh for Christ’s sake I am not going to be supportive when you march up to a cliff and start yelling I Believe I Can Fly.  I’m pissed at you, you asshole.”

Roll up off the mats and high-knee march around the gym.  Ordinarily you’d have music blasting loud enough to shake the dust loose.  Not today.  You need quiet, to work out what you’re going to say to Dean.  Since that night on the bridge, Dean’s been an exposed wire.  Except for the strictly necessary, he’s not talking to anyone.  No coming down to the gym in the morning to ask what you want for breakfast, no late nights staying up watching TV, no bad jokes, no smiles, no lingering embraces.  It doesn't help that you're so mad at him you want to smack him against a wall.  You weren't kidding about how you feel about Alpha voice.  Merry fucking Christmas.

“I thought,” you say as you wipe the sweat off your face and towel off.  “I thought you were a fighter, Winchester.”  That’s not fair, the rational part of you says.  “I know that’s not fair,” you tell that rational part.  “Two months in solitary confinement would break anybody.  But . . . sometimes I think you’re just marking time until you can find a convenient place to die.”

And there it is.  You slump to a seat on the inclined bench, gulping down the last of your water.  “Did you not care enough to fight for us?” you ask the empty room.  “How am I supposed to take that?”  You had no right to swear that oath, you’d told him that night, and his cold, We’re not mated, you got no claim on me, had cut you deep.  “Do I mean anything to you at all?” you ask, tears mixing with the sweat on your skin.

A long hot shower and a good cry helps restore your emotional equilibrium.  It also gives you an idea.  After getting dressed, you find Dean in the garage burrowed under the Chevy’s hood.  “Beer?”

“Yeah,” he says, taking the cold bottle away from you.

“So how long before she’s road-ready?” you ask, nodding at Baby.

“Half-hour,” Dean shrugs.  “Why?”

“I need to pick some stuff up out of storage in Kansas City.  Some books, couple curseboxes, some personal effects.  We could make a day of it.”

Dean looks at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable.  Long enough you start to get nervous.  A part of you wants to run to him, fall on your knees, Present, swear anything and everything if only he’d touch you and hold you--

“Yeah, sure, sounds like a plan,” Dean says.  “Just let me get done here and get cleaned up.”

“Great!  Bring the flatbed.  We’re gonna need it.”

It’s a nice drive, Rolling Stones on the stereo, Baby growling down the highway in her contented way.  In sunshine and crisp air you can feel part of yourself coming alive again.  Dean feels it too, you can tell.  Open road and Baby armoring him, it’s the Fabled Automatic.

After lunch you meander to the Lockup Self Storage.  “Hell-lo,” Dean says when you open the locker door, “what have we here?”

“You have your Baby,” you say, going to the hump covered by a heavy dropcloth.  “I have,” you peel back the canvas, “Eddie.”

Dean nods in appreciation, taking in the road-worn Harley-Davidson Road King.  Eddie The Head sneers at you both from the bike’s gas tank.  Just looking at it makes you feel a little breathless.  The thought of a ride, Eddie throbbing between your legs and Dean plastered to your back, it’s enough to make you a little bit slick.

Okay, a lot bit slick.  It’s not just your heart that’s pining here.

“Well go on, get on.”  You smile into Dean’s surprised face.  “I wanna see how hot you actually look on a bike.”

“You’ve imagined me on a bike?”

“What woman with a beating heart and functional eyesight wouldn’t?”

Once he settles into the saddle, all muscles and steel, you sigh.  In his normal clothes, Dean’s sex on wheels.  In leathers, you’d probably need someone to hold you back with a fire hose.  You could go into heat right here and now.  Shit, you want to go into heat right here and now.  Sit yourself on Dean’s lap as Eddie’s engine roars through you both--

Dean gets your attention, eventually.  You shake yourself.  “Okay, scootch back.  I’m gonna get the keys.”

Scatting a random beat under your breath, you walk behind the bike.  Dean has to brace a hand behind himself to get his balance; quick as anything you snap a handcuff around his wrist and snap the other cuff to the sissy bar mounted on Eddie’s back.  “What the hell--”

“Good,” you say, doing likewise with Dean’s other arm.  You mount Eddie backwards, putting yourself face-to-face with your Alpha.  He’s more confused than angry, but that could change in an eyeblink.  “I have your attention.”

“This is stupid-- unlock me.”

“Not until we talk about what happened in Colorado.”

“You mean where Cas broke a blood pact me and Sam made with Billie?”

“Yep, that.”

“What’s there to talk about?  Cosmic consequences--”

“Worse than the end of all existence?”

“I don’t know!” Dean yells.  “Every time I think the universe has screwed us over as hard as it can, something comes along that’s worse!”  Dean takes a breath, tries visibly to calm himself down.  “You’ve been a Hunter for years.  Death’s part if the job.”

“Stop right there,” you tell him, “and listen good.  Getting shot, getting stabbed, getting eaten-- that’s the job.  Holding the line so’s your buddies can get out; that’s the job too.  Dying young from stress?  That’s the job.  The job,” you say, focusing what force of personality you have on the Alpha in front of you, “is not, I repeat, not, throwing your dumb ass on a sword on some cosmic entity’s say-so based on a catastrophe that might or might not happen, and the job is especially not asking people who love you to stand by and let it happen, you dick.”

“So I should’ve let Sammy take the hit?  Or Mom?” Dean demands.

“None of the fucking above,” you tell him.  “If Castiel hadn’t shanked the bitch I would have.”  You grab his face.  “You do not get to die on me, Winchester, do you understand me?  For Christ’s sake, what did you think Bonding meant?  Am I just supposed to carry on without you?”

“Yeah well we’re not Bonded!  Which was your decision, by the way.”

"And here we are,” you say.  “So tell me now.  Look me in the eye, and tell me-- are you going to fight to keep your stupid ass alive, or are you just Hunting to court your own death?  Because if that’s the case, I’m gone.  Box up my shit and ship it to Garth’s place.  Look at me when I’m talking to you.”  You recenter his face, staring up into his eyes.  “I get we got a shelf life.  That doesn’t mean we just up and fucking quit.  Bonding means we don’t get to quit.”

You lunge forward and kiss him.  The handcuff chains rattle as he tries to bring his arms up.  Dean’s mouth opens and he's kissing you back, hard and furious and alive.  His smell, his taste, his presence, and something under your heart opens and blooms like a flower.  Every cell in your body wants, wants Dean, only Dean. 

When you finally come up for air, you rest your head on Dean’s chest, a hand pressed flat over his pounding heart.

It's quiet, so quiet you hear it more through his chest than his lips.  "Don’t."

You look up, at Dean’s glass-clear eyes and kiss-swollen lips.  Mission accomplished-- you're talking to Dean where Dean lives, down underneath the sarcasm and the bullshit.  A part of you -- a big part of you -- wants to really go to work.  With Alpha voice and dragging you around and giving you the silent treatment.  You want to teach him a lesson, brand him with it, scar it into his soul so he'll never forget.

Dean swallows and tries again.  "Don't go.  I don't want you to go."

You make a decision, and let it go.  "I don’t want you to either, Dean."  This kiss is soft, gentle.  Trying to calm racing hearts, cool the fever between you.  "When I thought you were gone I--" how had you felt?  You remember looking out on an empty snow-swept parking lot when you were a kid, cold wind tearing the skin from you face.  Desolate, that's the word.  "Are you hearing me?  Please tell me you're hearing me."

Dean nods.

"Will you fight for that?  For us?"

It holds the weight of a promise.  "Yes."

"Hold still a second."

Dean sits still as you unlock the cuffs, but the moment the second cuff falls away he snatches you into his arms and backs you into the storage unit’s sheet metal wall.  Sheer unadulterated want floods through you as you feel him hard through his jeans.  Fastenings get undone, clothes torn or shoved aside, Dean's knees buckle as you take his cock to the knot and you fuck right there, slamming yourself down as Dean's hands guide the motion, touching every bit of you that's been longing for him.

As you sag against Dean, his knot locked firm inside you and post-come sparks stinging your nerves, you shut your eyes and sigh.  The right move, the smart move?  You don't know.

You don't know a better way to fight the death in him.

---

AN2: Maple and Motor is a real place, and makes the best damn burgers in North Texas-- seriously, if you're ever traveling anywhere near Dallas, check it out. The title is taken from the Iron Maiden song, "Ghost of the Navigator." 'Eddie' is their unspokeszombie, Eddie The Head.

[madafact]

nope

ill try to be concise and add as much detail as possible

sometimes writing can be a cover to a book that is about to be written, read, burned, or put down

my brother anthony john masters died on june 10th or 11th i cant remember, the days post have zero anchors or even dates. mostly just a sense of disbelief, and the need to still have to put on clothes, smile and get hair cuts and shit, ya know life bullshit, the stuff that doesnt fucking matter after you lose what you really have in this odd plain we occupy.

my first notice was a photo of his beautiful body being held captive by a hospital bed and three not even complete sentences,

"bicycle accident. head trauma. will be in for seven days"

this was sent by my most eloquent father, who will not hesitate to mention he is a writer who has a vocabulary that could sink the titanic.

how we communicate, to me, shows me the level of respect, admiration, reverence and connection you feel to someone. Ill let you connect those dots. but i will give you a hint at the ending, anthony died. and all the anger, disrespect, lack of trust was the missing words in the first transmission. i think ive said it before but my father does not like me nor does it seem he has any interest in knowing who i am. but this isnt about me

anthony was conscious for the first few days and the prognosis was picking up like the wind. the sun seemed to be parting the clouds and what seemed like just another 'slam at the park' was going to be in the rearview mirror. but ya know, another front moved in on it began to rain.

i have been well informed just how prickly of a cactus new york city can be, and if you dont respect the idea, then you become the grease that turn the wheels of incompetence. it seems incompetent doctors, nurses and medical staff cut anthonys life short. more on that later.

i arrived at the hospital to late to see my brother still squirming in this world and he let me know just what he thought of my tardiness. im trying to open the ICU doors (which open not by handle, but by button, and once initiated, do not stop not even for a 500 lb gorilla. my welter weight body was absolutely brushed aside, sat on my ass with a broken nose and blood, thanks ant, you loved a good board to the face or some shit like that.

anyway he was gone, his body was warm, in a failed attempt i tried to climb into his bed and kinda just spread over him like butter, backside stil moist from his path through life. i touched his chest, kissed his forehead, held his hands examined his post humous face, and went as far as to cut lochs of his beautiful hair for safe keeping, for as many years as i have left. he truly was a beautifully built creature, tats and all, scars, broken bones, off set nose and all. but when i got there, all that started its slow process of fading slowly, then quickly, and soon into ash.

even having him in my arms wouldnt let reality in. shock will be my blanket for the coming winter and it looks to be particulary brisk this season. it still hasnt set in. even after gallons of tears, thousands of racing thoughts, a landscape of sweaty palms and not much rest or fuel. its starting to take a toll. i showed up to a memorial for him a day early today. cold sores are tilling my lips and a general sense of seeking shelter on a partiulary blustery day is my commute to work these days.

the lochs of hair were for me but ya know, as soon as people see you getting something, they want it too. it wasnt supposed to be for everybody, its supposed to be for the ones who seized the opportunity. me.

but ya know find grace and share. even though...what ever.

i maybe spent 40 minutes to an hour with his physical form before the next step had to begin. the state makes money on beds, and once you dead, you out da bed. he was just another stat, another pair of pants to check for loose change and maybe an unspent bill or two. and they wanted us out to begin the search.

fuck the state, and those who tow its nets across the ocean floor decimating everything in its path to catch a few prizes and waste a whole host more souls.

fuck new york

fuck california

fuck me

so i guess thats the end of the experience, but it is only the beginning of the angelification of my brother. the people he affected, the tone (for lack of a better word) he set, the wake he created and the stories that will outlive him.

his chosen family was a mega group of friends made around the college years, fostered across both coasts and eventually planted in bay shore or point pleasant new jersey. a wonderful family of young and old. similiar age and even multiple species. but little was i aware, this was only a small portion of the spiders web. he had been very busy spinning intricate patterns that in the morning light and dew would mesmorize people. moths to flame but this was a bit more of like a cozy fire or even perfect coals to prepare food over.

california, new jersey, new york, mexico city, colorado, oregon, washington, and im probably forgetting a whole host, or just havent found out about the other places. multiple ceremonies were held for him, and are still being planned for future dates, future surf trips, future joy and happiness.

he truly went after being part of peoples love for life. he was a one way street to positive town. it took many forms, tropical mental attitude, tony masters association, boistrous, gregarious, know only for hug not handshakes.

the ceremony we held in the immediate day after was located in new jersy at the beach with more surfboards and beach toys than the coast could imagine. we were even granted passed past the usual, permits, rules etc. for a day, anthony has the bay head cops in his pocket and they nodded to his celebration while many local people looked around in an unusual jealous disbelief.

the waves were not typical for the time of year, the wind stayed the right direction, the sun shined ALL fucking day. all ages caught waves and hooted for each other. anthony was fully on display as his new angelic form. tending to the elements, playing jovial pranks and keeing safe passage for all. just like he always dreamed of. he had arrived. he had become that all powerful, undenieable indescribeable wonderful dream. the light was so bright i imagine. he must have felt the warmth. after all it is a very bright light that we must walk into.

im not even two days into the i think day 5 nightmare/ endless bummer that has no signs of slowing, callousing or even seeming at all acceptable. please help me find acceptance anthony. what happened to you was unacceptable but if your reward is the infinite, cheers dude

i think ill have to do this post based on emotional resources, because as i get to this point, crying in a coffee shop wearing sunglasses trying to stay low key. its not working. the sniffles are giving me away and my coffee cannot be sipped in a unrippled fashion. the hands tremble and my backspace button is just getting a workout.

so please forgive me as i collect myself, my thoughts, and look to the sky for the strength to even find reason to keep my foundation built by me, for myself to not come crashing down.

the crescendo continues..

[becauseplot]

Hohh wednesdays are busy for me so that + brainfog tuesday + physics hell = lots of Things needed to happen yesterday, but im back :D

Ehehehhehe more Factorial fic for me to chew on. Even if I have no idea what's going on I'm sure I'll like it for at least the writing.

Love my gel pens so so so much. Love using them up completely to write. When I was in middle school, I was gifted one of those big ol pen packs of like forty fuckmillion cheap gel pens in every color imaginable, and I burned through them so fast while writing. I kept them all in the bottom of my backpack and the collection grew to the point where I could just pull out a literal fistful of used-up gel pens going like ":D" to weird out my friends.

Oof sorry you're under the weather. Hope you get to feeling better soon :( And yeah goddamn your sister to reiterate I am scared of her but she sounds awesome. I've got an older brother who is also very cool---headstrong guy, which both helps and hurts him lol. He's trying to become a bartender and honestly, it sounds like the perfect job for him. He's very personable and just loves to talk to people and get to know them, and bartending would be the perfect job for someone who just loves to People.

Tbh it wasn't until more recently that I could say that my brother and I are friends. We argued a lot as kids and then for a good number of years he was just...kinda someone who lived in the same house as me. And then. Idk I guess somewhere between me going off to school and both of us individually working/going through some Stuff we finally got to know each other? And he's like, actually my friend now. And last year he made it clear that he truthfully, genuinely cares for me and will be there for me and ueueuueueue 0(-( I've never really had anyone in my corner like that before. Like my parents are great and I love em to bits and I've had some amazing close friends, but there are some things that you cant tell your parents and there are some things your friends cant help you with, ya kno? (URGHH im getting choked up thinking about this /pos thinking of my brother as my friend still feels so surreal to me.)

Also he's a poet! And like a really fucking good poet holy shit. Like I knew he loved songwriting for a while and had performed at slam poetry nights but I didn't realize how good he was until he performed one of his pieces for us at a family function and I was. Floored. We talk about writing and word choice on occasion and most of our texting conversations consist of funny posts we send each other. It's nice.

Ghost child getting a gentle ending this is all I wanted for him <3

Ohhh chaos! There is a lot going on there, really looks like everyone is scattered trying to get a handle on the situation, ohh absolute nightmare. The detail of Pac with the Doctor who is armed is suchhhh a good one. Really illustrates their dire situation, where the person who heals is forced to take up arms. Traditional war says "honor code---don't kill the medics, leave the wounded alone" but this war does not give a shit about any of that. (which happens irl. which makes this feel very, very, very human despite the nature of their circumstances.) (or perhaps it is because of the nature of their circumstances.) (i remember watching a bit of a show abt an alien invasion starting in different locations all over the world, and at some point an American soldier, a man from an invaded middle-eastern town, and the man's family were driving away in a car having escaped the aliens for now, and the American soldier commented to the man about how the man's wife and children in the back seat seemed relatively calm despite Everything that had happened and Everything they had seen because, you know, alien invasion. and the man replied that this is hardly the first time that they've been "invaded" by "aliens". and i think about that a lot.)

Archivists so beloved fr. You're right about Cellbit having to take care of Phil, it's so interesting watching Cellbit have this borderline identity crisis about if he's a "good man" or if he's actually capable of being gentle and using his hands to heal instead of hurt while he's like actively wrapping bandages and helping Phil. and Phil is just sitting there like "awww yeah Cellbit my trustworthy friend my friend whom i trust i put my life in your hands because i trust you yesyes". On the other way around, Phil---always has food on hand, values sleep, health potions up the wazoo when he can get his hands on 'em---taking care of Cellbit---lives primarily off of coffee, sleep is a naught but a distant memory, most likely got a deep-seeded walk-it-off complex from his time in the war---also has potential. late night in the Order Phil looking at Cellbit walking in looking half-dead and Phil asking him if he's alright and wrestling out of Cellbit the fact that Cellbit hasn't eaten yet and hasn't slept in however many fuckin days, Phil staring at him like "damn bitch you live like this?? go to BED man holy shit" Alternatively, Phil sees Cellbit is doing badly but Cellbit brushes it off until Phil mentions he left something in the other room and Cellbit's like "oh i got it" and stands up from the table a little too fast and [WINDOWS SHUTDOWN NOISE]. (<-this has been living in my head for too long i just gotta string some more coherent plot along w it) I'm more silly with them tbh but they live in my head. Cellbit regaining conscious to Phil being like "yeah i think youre done for the night mate" and Cellbit being like "idk what youre talking about im literally awake now i didnt even hit my head" "because i caught you dumbass" "look im good i promise, we can keep going" and Phil giving him a Look "...im messaging Roier" "no, wait--"

Just,,, thinking about pre-purgatory and both of their histories, Cellbit growing up in a warzone and Phil's nebulous "survivalist" background. They both push themselves but Cellbit is terribly self-destructive with it. Phil, having lived a long life, knows better how to pace himself and take the breaks when he can so he can be prepared for when shit really hits the fan, meanwhile Cellbit over here trying to brute force his way through an ongoing crisis, soldier on, fight or die run or die kill or die, it's always the worst case scenario. And Phil looking at him and thinking, "Does he know he doesn't have to give 100% all the damn time? Does he know that's not how you survive a crisis?" Little does Phil know that surviving the crisis is not always part of Cellbit's plans. Idk chewing on them.

The ingredients for an Archivists AU/fic are still on the counter I just gotta get them organized into something coherent and then I can tell you more. But the idea that it'll center around is "Marginal acquaintances forced to work together because reality is being weird and there is Something Going On and no one seems to notice it but them." (Issue: I don't typically write mystery like at all. If I ever write it, it will be Difficult.)

Yeah time with friends! My pre-uni friends are by far my closest ones. I don't rly have anyone that I'm close to here at university (making friends here is. hard. and. still an ongoing process.) so I'm looking forward to spending time w them.

They deserve ALL of the blankets and hot chocolate and X-factor on the couch. The world hurts them enough :(((

Ohhh Duchess sounds interesting :0 by "your NPC" do you mean you played her or you just wrote her or both? Just to be clear lmao im curious.

Really sucks not being able to study archeology bc shit health :( but at least that corpse knowledge is being put to good use.

Tbh I don't ever watch reality TV. Like, ever, I hate it, it's boring. However, during finals week last semester, between study sessions and exams one of my roommates would watch Hell's Kitchen and I'd drop in every now and then and watch some of it with her and we'd laugh at how dramatic it was and how shitty the contestants were to each other and cuss out the assholes. Loads of fun.

God I love hugs too. Absolute horseshit that your health prevents you from getting one >:/ I haven't had a hug from a friend in *googles* 67 days. When I see my friends during spring break I am going to full-body tackle one of them and force them to just lay on the couch w me. Gonna take a nap on them. They won't move bc that would make me sad and they wouldn't want to do that because then I'll revoke their kneecap privileges :>

I know nothing about Pokemon but I trust your process :thumbsup: Man idek what videogames i played as a kid lmao what did i even do? I think i just played Minecraft, Kirby Mass Attack, Mario Kart, and various Mario Bros games on loop. Much much much later I just played Breath of the Wild over and over and over and over. Hence my well-loved but currently abandoned botw au(s).

Adding Eric's Song to the list! Epic. Shooting one back at you: How Far We've Come by Matchbox 20. My personal end-credits song tbh. Makes me insane. I took an Apocalyptic Literature class (ALSO an incredible class with an incredible prof) and it gave me a new appreciation for it.

finished ep 10 of osnf (long post under the cut oh lord)

crying sobbing kicking over chairs screaming CELLBIT IS AN EVIL EVIL MAN WHY WOULD HE DO THAT. FOR WHAT REASON. POR CUAL RAZÓN. LO ODIO. <-said with the utmost adoration and respect of a writer but the fury of a fan who just had to endure all of that my hearttttt 0(-(

god fuck i have thoughts and feelings regarding episode 10 of osnf. obviously. i don't even know how to start.

okay. first of all the way that he was able to orchestrate the like 57839 different POVs of the nightmare happening at the same time was actually pretty smooth, all things considered. being able to forcibly mute/deafen the others is a good thing to be able to do yesyes.

second, im losing my mind over how he hides the fact that "it's all a dream" WITHIN the "it's all a dream" trope by having the creatures be manifestations of dreams/guilt in "reality" themselves. idk if i'm making any sense, but like, you get it, right? like, it's the fact that we thought we had already discovered the dream-based deceit in the segment because of what the "Hotelier" told Joui at the start of it, but it turns out that THAT was a red-herring of sorts for the TRUE dream-based deceit, that EVERYTHING was a dream, not just the creatures. god there are fucking layers to this im foaming at the mouth that's soooo good.

i guess that's what makes the "it's all a dream"-style trope present here feel less cliche. because, you know, it is a trope, and it's not really a trope that i'm fond of, but because there's actually more going on, it feels less cheap. what certainly helps is that the fact that it's roleplay, so the reactions from the characters are so much more raw, and there are some irl stakes (character dead = out of the series = can't play anymore). that definitely keeps you on the edge of your seat.

edit: something i forgot to mention—what i dislike abt the “it’s all a dream” trope the most is that it is very easily something that can be so, so cheap. all angst, no stakes or consequences, no lasting impact on the plot on the characters. however, not only is there a “physical” impact via several characters losing SHITLOADS of sanity (something not easily recovered) but we get to see a little more into the psyche of the characters. which i suppose is often the point of the “it’s all a dream” segments, but this dream—one with a lot of references to past major character death and itself contains major character death—rings especially true for the themes of the series: the world they live in is dangerous, and the work they do is lethal. people have and will die. and they do and will feel guilty, reguardless if they are at fault. it’s not a horrifying death dream just for the sake of being a death dream, it feels grounded in their reality, and i love that.

third, man he did not hold back. when Arthur was being beaten to a pulp by not!Brúlio, i was actually in shock, i was screaming. plus, i think the fact that Cellbit rolled a 001 when not!Brúlio attacked actually helped to hide the fact that this was a dream. it made it look like it was bad luck rather than the segment was designed to kill the characters (well, at least until he revealed that the damage was 1d4+1d6, but i'll get to that later).

gosh the narration of how not!Brúlio killed Arthur. holy shit. i don't. i don't even have words, that is DEVASTATING. that is probably one of the worst ways for a person to go. i know it's a dream but if i were Arthur i would be emotionally fucked up beyond belief. beaten to a bloody pulp by the father who once loved you so much, screaming at you for abandoning him and that it's your fault he died a horrible death. and then he drops your body on the ground like you're nothing but a pile of useless meat. god. damn.

and then Liz. ohhhh Liz. i just. i was devastated. her whole struggle with Alex, the man she treated so horribly. yes it's true the real Alex never would have said these things to you, but how do you know he wasn't thinking it? that he didn't want to? that what not!Alex says doesn't hold some truth? christttt. and of course the way she dies: in complete agony. and did she forgive herself? because, unlike with not!Brúlio, the creature turned into that weird wispy black thing just as she died, and i would assume that means she forgave herself (if those rules even apply considering this was all a result of the parasite's deceit (holy hell my brain is melting i am the man with the hand on the conspiracy board)).

fourth: the 1d4+1d6 thing! when he read that out, i was stunned. that is a LOT of damage considering all of the characters have ~10 HP. with an extreme roll, that's basically an insta-kill, or it's easily a two-hit-kill. i thought Arthur was unlucky, but when Liz also went down, i was---well, devastated, at first, because that's Liz, she's my absolute favorite and i love her, but i started going through all five stages of grief at once, and at some point i arrived at "no that can't be right" because Cellbit is a good writer. and to deliberately construct a scenario where it would be VERY hard for a character to survive while still in the middle of the story? yeah. and yknow the fact that there's still 6 other episodes fhdsjk. (then again the series continues regardless if a character dies and i haven't looked at other episodes' thumbnails or anything like that for this exact reason. so. i was going in as blind as i could reasonably be.)

in any case, realizing and connecting all of this and then hearing the "Hotelier" start yelling at Joui right after Liz died explicitly blaming him for it sealed it for me: this is a trick of some sort. this is a dream sequence of some sort. these aren't real deaths. (a smaller part of me was still scared that they were real because i know that Cellbit does not shy away from killing off his players' characters, if op and opq are anything to go by. but i digress.)

and then the characters turned to black goo. and i just about threw my computer. rip Luba who got absolutely targeted by the GM lmfao.

anyway uhhh that's about it regarding the dream sequence! loving luzidius!joui and how he just keeps switching back and forth. ((and it further supports my little side-theory that the mysterious blond woman last seen with Team Kelvin was a luzidious we win these.)) i was surprised to see Liz thinking it was so cool when she's been so suspicious of everything in Santo Berco since she got here, but i think she could definitely be using it as a distraction from what she just went through, and honestly she's just happy to see Joui is okay. (the way she gave on up words and just hugged him, the way she held his face in her hands, the way she dragged him down the hall to show Thiago and Thiago was just telling her to fuck off (/aff) because he was getting dressed, my heartttt i love these three, mentor-mentee dynamics my fucking beloved)

also new outfits! sweet! istg the new outfits are so Cellbit's way of apologizing for putting his friends through that. "hey sorry i killed your character in the most emotionally devastating way possible it will happen again wOAH LOOK AT THESE NEW CLOTHES AREN'T THEY SO COOL YOU SHOULD TRY THEM ON!!!"

i've been having mixed feelings about the sudden setting/genre change since the group arrived in Santo Berco. i really, really loved the urban horror-fantasy vibe that they had going on in op and the first 8 eps of osnf, but evidently, this is good as well. the genre is most definitely still horror yippee. i definitely miss the urban-modern setting, but i think i can get adjusted to this. (i'm just,,, not the biggest fan of the auto-heal crystals im sorry i had to say it they feel too op i know their use is limited to visiting the doctor but knowing they exist lowers the in-world stakes for me im sorry---)

anyway, ep 10! you beautiful monster! i have been typing for an hour! i need to go eat food! k bye!

[olivesjaw]

.

[maximillien]

Headcannons about what I think our trio would do with a reader on their period

(Because I'm on mine and I have ideas)

Cale Henituse:

- firstly, this man does not give a shit. You're on your period? Is he supposed to be embarrassed or something? It's completely natural and he won't shy away from talking about what you need and what he can do for you.

- so wether you're a shy person or not, or you don't like talking about it, he'll ask what you need

- I personally think he'd use his hand as a heat pack.

- cuz you know he has the fire of destruction, so he'd heat up his hand real quick and put it over your uterus to soothe cramps (if you've got them)

- again, no shame whatsoever

- he knows what a pad and tampon is, he had colleagues with periods in the past, so he'd probably give them leave or fetch some stuff for them if they stayed in the office

- however he doesn't really know how people in the time period you're both in would deal with it

- would probably ask his mother, Ron, or Rosalyn for advice

- would ask Beacrox to make some food you crave and bring it to you

- probably would call a doctor to figure out what type of medication is available (if you've got those cramps like i do ☹️)

- forces you to stay in bed, you are not getting up (this can be changed if you want to get up by saying you need exercise. He'll probably come with you but will soon usher you back in)

- will definitely use this time to take care of you/pamper you and also slack off (two birds with one stone)

- will read to you if you want

- can be persuaded into snuggling, honestly I think he runs a bit cooler than others but he's soft and a comfy snuggle buddy.

Alberu Crossman (my husband my love-)

- I love him so much my god

- anyways he knows what a period is, but not how to deal with it

- he's only had his aunt since he was a child, but I doubt that subject of discussion would come up, since he was yannow trying to survive in the palace.

- would probably be innerly flustered when the subject comes up between you two but would not show it on his face visibly, you can only see concern and interest

- again he's the no shame n2

- it's natural and it happens.

- if you bleed through the sheets, no worries, he'll take them off, call the maids to wash it and ask them to run a bath

- will carry you to the bath and bathe you if you want, or talk to you if you don't (or you know leave if you're uncomfortable and want to be alone)

- when you come out they'll be tea and snacks and a fresh pair of sheets

- and your beautiful, smiling husband in bed waiting for you with his arms opening up for a hug

- again, he's a quarter dark elf, man has magic, will also heat up his hand (look I like this hc because I need the heat packs)

- will absolutely snuggle and talk to you or let you sleep

- I hc he runs warm ( he wears heavy clothes as king so it'd make his body temp higher) so yes. He Is a walking heater.

- if it's in the day and he's busy, you'll have maids waiting on you

- and he'll try and check in as often as he can, or otherwise he'll have his work brought to the bedroom and stay with you whilst he works

- honestly, really luxurious treatment

Choi Han

- my man 😭 he's so pretty

-anyways big shy man

- knows what it is (though I think he forgot a lot of it, since it was not the first thing on his mind when stuck in the forest of darkness)

- would need a recap of how it works and what you need

- will definitely blush a LOT.

- he's not ashamed, he's just flustered because this is completely unknown territory to him, he's never dealt with this before

- will force you to stay in bed

- you are NOT getting up. If you do you'll face the beaten up puppy face and honestly that's enough to keep you

- the moment you make a sound of pain or discomfort he's ONTO you

- 'do you need anything? Want me to fluff your pillow? Get some tea? Fetchasnackwaitineedtocall-'

- he's rambling and all. Give him a quick kiss on the cheek he'll simmer down in his chair looking like a tomato

- will hold your hand a trace circles and shapes on it to distract you

- if you want silence he's more than happy to just sit with you

- the moment you need something he's gone to get it, and he's back in a flash

- really endearing tbh

- he's trying his best with his new knowledge

- can be persuaded into snuggles but will be a hot mess the whole time.

- if you're in pain though his embarrassment will disappear

- he's like this big pillow, so latch onto him

- if you need to go outside just to get out of the house he's fretting around you

- again, hold his hand and he'll quieten down and walk with you

- once you're back inside he'll tuck you in and ask if you need anything