#i bet in the end he just sounded so defeated in everything he said | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lucidlivi · 1 year ago

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Never Been You

Requested: @hzllxhoundxx

Everything Tag List: @jc-winchester @mrsjenniferwinchester @perpetualabsurdity @antisocialcorrupt @heavenlyackles @anixiiee @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @deans-spinster-witch @k-slla @alternativeprincess @spnbaby-67 (if you'd like added to my everything tag list, please indicate by saying "please tag me in everything Jensen/Dean")

Warnings: Angst, Demon Dean, Kidnapping, Violence, Mature Themes, Demon Dean Being an Absolute Dick

Following S10 E2, S10 E3 (of course with my twist!)

I got carried away so this is a hella long one for you guys!

"you need to get to Beulah North Dakota now!" I rushed out to Castiel who was on the other end of the phone call.

"I do?"

"yes, Crowley and Dean were there, we have to pick up their trail."

I looked over to see Sam in the truck hunched over in pain.

"good, great."

I felt the emotions wash over me for what felt like the thousandth time since seeing the footage of Dean, our Dean, sporting black eyes. Castiel has no idea.

"Not exactly, Cas, Dean's a Demon." I said feeling the unshed tears slip from my eyes.

"Dean's a Demon? How?"

"It's the mark Cas, it messed him up, I don't know." I cried.

"that's a vast understatement." Castiel grumbled.

"look Cas, I know you're not feeling so hot right now, but I need you, it’s sort of an all hands on deck situation, so…"

"so I'll be there."

I hopped back in the truck I had rescued Sam in and continued to drive to North Dakota. I played through every scenario in mind of how this could go, and none of them ended well.

I needed to find Dean, I needed to help him.

"I got a lead, disturbance at a night club, a rowdy patron beat a security guard senseless. It sounds like a demon thing to do." Sam said looking at his phone.

"I guess let's check it out then."

It was still daytime when we were pulling up to the strip club.

Of course Dean would end up here.

"think that's the guy?" I asked Sam, looking at a muscular security guard who was wearing a sling identical to Sam's and had two black eyes.

"I would say it's a safe bet."

I stopped the truck hopping out, followed by Sam.

"excuse me sir, is this the guy who attacked you last night?" Sam asked straight forward, showing a picture of Dean.

"that's the guy, I called 911 but he was gone before they showed up."

Damn.

I didn't expect him to still be here, but it felt like a blow to the gut to actually hear it.

"that dude get to you too?" He asked Sam referencing his sling.

"uh no, this uh is just a hunting accident." Sam responded.

"would you do us a favor, if this guy shows back up, please give us a call." I said producing a fake FBI business card with my number on it.

"you bet."

"thanks."

I ran a hand through my hair with a huff before getting back in the truck.

"what now?" I asked, feeling the tears prick at my eyes again.

I couldn't bare the thought of Dean actually being a demon.

"I don't know." Sam said in defeat.

I drove the truck to a nearby motel, renting us a room. Sam had been through hell, he needed to rest. I helped him lay down on the bed, noticing his eyes get instantly heavy.

"I'll be right back, I'm just going to get something out of the truck." I told him, rushing outside.

As soon as I stepped outside, I heard a voice that made my blood boil with anger.

"hello there love."

I turned around to see Crowley with a smirk on his face.

"did ya miss me?"

I huffed in anger, reaching behind me to pull a blade from my belt loop.

"oh so much." I growled.

"easy now, I know you're here for Dean, and I'm here to give him to you."

Is this a trick?

I could never truly trust Crowley.

"I don't understand."

"you see he's bad for business, he's.. he's become uncontrollable, must be the mark.." Crowley trails off with a smirk.

"anywho Dean's your problem now, again, forever." Crowley added.

"then where the hell is he?" I snapped, not being able to contain my anger towards the king of hell.

"ah ah, first there's a small matter of my finders fee."

"nothing ever comes free with you, wouldn't have expected anything less."

****************************************************

I hesitantly walk in to the bar not knowing what to expect. I didn't even tell Sam where I was going. I knew he didn't have the strength to fight, and I didn't want him to get hurt.

"hiya angel." Dean said looking up at me with a smirk.

I felt my breathing get heavy as I looked at him. It was Dean in the flesh, but this thing was so far from Dean. Dean was brave, he was kind, Dean cared.

"I told you to let me go." Dean said picking up his glass of whiskey and sipping it.

"you know I can't do that Dean."

He smirked, taking another sip.

"by the way, your pal Crowley, he sold you out, didn't take him much." I said stepping a bit closer.

"sounds like him."

"Dean, we can cure demons, don't you remember that?" I asked taking another step closer.

Dean picked up the first blade, walking past me in a threatening manner.

"a little latin, lot of blood, yeah it rings a bell. but did you ever stop to think that if I wanted to be cured, I wouldn't have bailed."

"Dean that was Crowley, you don't know what you're doing."

"that's what you think." Dean said pouring himself another glass of whiskey.

"well it doesn't matter Dean, whatever happened, whatever went down, we will fix it." I said cautiously taking another step towards him.

"Oh will we? Meanwhile I'm doing all I can to not come over there and rip your throat out."

"Dean you don't mean that."

"I'm giving you a chance to run sweetheart, better take it." Dean threatened.

"I'll pass." I said quickly.

“I'm not walking out that door with you, I'm just not, so what are you going to do angel, huh? Are you going to kill me?" Dean asked.

I felt a chill run down my spine at the way he called me angel. It was laced with venom.

"I didn't come here to kill you."

"why? you have no idea what I've done, in fact I might have it coming."

"I don't care Dean, you're my best friend, and I'm here to take you home. I'm here to save you."

I wanted to admit so much more to him.

I wanted to tell him that it's because I was in love with him and couldn't imagine my life without him in it. I was worried now that I wouldn't get the chance too.

I heard Dean start to chuckle.

"save me? why would you want to save me? it's never been you, you know." Dean said taking a sip.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Dean got up sauntering his way over to me. I instinctively took a step back, not trusting him. I soon found out though, the more distance I tried to put between us the closer he got. I raised my hand up putting it on his chest to stop him from getting any closer.

Dean smirked at me before twisting my arm and bringing his hand up to my throat. He pinned me to the wall a twisted look in his eyes. I felt a chill run down my spine, he was getting pleasure out of this.

"I see the way you look at me, the way you lust for me, you want me." Dean smirked.

I glared at him, trying to turn my face away, his hold on my throat getting tighter.

"you don't want to kill me because you're in love with me, and you have been for quite some time, haven't you?"

I couldn't speak, Dean's hold on me was too tight. I furrowed my eyebrows as if to convey he wasn't right, even though he was.

"and its never been you for me.. you see while you've been trying to find me, trying to save me, i've been fucking everything with a heartbeat." Dean growled.

I could feel the tears brim my eyes as his words cut in to me. I knew he was just trying to hurt me, but part of me wondered if that's how Dean actually felt.

He let go of my throat, shoving me to the floor. I instantly stood back up taking out the handcuffs from my back pocket.

"you really think those are going to work sweetheart?" Dean asked with a smirk.

"well there's one way to find out."

As I took a step forward, the window shattered and the entire room started filling with smoke. I looked to my left to see someone had threw a smoke grenade. I felt the air rush from my lungs as I breathed in the smoke. I put my shirt over my mouth and nose, trying to find an exit. I started to cough, as my vision got blurry.

I finally found the emergency exit, pushing it open. I saw the silhouette of a man on the other side as I collapsed from smoke inhalation. He struck me across the face hard, causing me to fall back to the ground, hitting my head in the process.

I was seeing stars as I sat clutching my bleeding head. Dean came out glaring the man down. I heard them exchange some words, but couldn't make out exactly what they were saying.

I noticed myself start to slip in and out of consciousness.

I saw them start to fight, Dean clearly having the upper hand.

I felt like my head was on fire, as I glanced up seeing Dean holding the first blade to the guys neck. He was going to kill him. I was surprised when he dropped him, tucking the blade back in to his pocket. I tried to muster up any strength I could to get up, but my body was betraying me. Dean walked over to me, a sick grin etched on to his face as he swayed his hips.

"Dean please." I choked out.

"time to sleep now baby."

Dean raised his hand striking me, and that's the last thing I remember before my world went dark.

****************************************************

I was in agonizing pain as I fluttered my eyelashes open. I panicked as I couldn't move my body. I looked down to see my arms and legs were bound to a wooden chair. I gathered from my surroundings that I was in some kind of warehouse, but I didn't recognize where.

"oh good, you're awake."

Dean came over crouching in front of me so we were eye level.

"let me go." I growled.

"can't do that angel." He said caressing my cheek.

I quickly moved my head away, causing his hand to fall.

"you don't want to provoke me." Dean growled.

"or what? you're going to kill me?"

Dean gave a sickly sweet smile. He leaned in close whispering in my ear.

"or you're going to wish you were dead."

"I'm not scared of you Dean." I snapped.

Dean lets out a chuckle, standing to his feet.

"I knew there was a reason I liked you so much, feisty little thing."

"why don't you let me out of these ropes and I'll show you just how feisty I can be."

Dean chuckled again, grabbing a bottle of whiskey taking a sip.

"I don't even know why I'm talking to you, this isn't even the real you." I scoffed.

"oh it's the real me alright, the new real me, the me who sees things for what they actually are."

I scoffed again rolling my eyes at his words.

"hunters, do-gooders, fighting the natural order, well let me tell you something sweetheart people like me, we are the natural order."

"yeah well people like me still gotta do what we can." I growled.

Dean smirked as he crouched back down to my eye level.

"oh don't be so full of yourself baby, cause you see from where I'm sitting, there ain't much difference from what I turned in to, to what you already are." Dean smirked.

"and what is that supposed to mean?" I growled.

Dean took one hand resting on my cheek, the other on the back of my neck so I couldn't move away from him again.

"I know what you did when you went looking for me, how far you went." Dean whispered, dangerously close to my face.

I felt the guilt sink back in.

I just kept telling myself I did what I had to in order to find Dean. I felt my breathing quicken as Dean came in closer, practically brushing his lips against mine.

"so let me ask you baby, which one of us is really the monster?"

I felt the tears brimming my lashes as Dean stared at me. Dean smirked as he stood back up.

"Now you and Sammy were trying to get a twenty on Crowley and me from any demon you could snag, but Crowley didn't want to be found, and no one showed when you summoned. But you my angel, you found your own way didn't you?"

I was ridden with guilt as I remembered how I tricked Lester in to summoning a demon to make a deal.

"You would've liked to have gotten there before the deal went down but you didn't really care about poor ol' Lester did you? Oh and just so you know, I uh killed Lester myself." Dean smirked as if it were funny.

"I never meant.." I started to choke out but Dean cut me off.

"who cares what you meant, that line that we thought was so clear between us and the things we hunted, ain't so clear is it?" Dean yelled.

I bit my lip to stop the tears from falling.

"wow, you know, you might actually be worse then me. I mean you took a guy at his lowest, used him, and it cost him his life and his soul, nice work baby." Dean said crouching back down.

I spit in his face, the anger I was feeling towards him boiling over. Dean angrily wiped his face off with the hem of his shirt.

"there's no point in trying to bring your best friend back now." Dean growled.

"oh I’ll bring him back, if it's the last thing I do." I growled.

"In fact, your uh guilt ridden, weight-of-the-world best friend, has been M.I.A. for quite some time now. I have to say though, I'm loving the new model, lean, mean, Dean."

I rolled my eyes turning my head away from him.

"I can't believe you're still trying! I mean, I couldn't wait to get away from you. I chose the king of hell over you! I guess I was just tired of having to coddle you, always having to yank your ass out of the fire. Do you ever stop to think that just your very existence sucks the life out of my life?" Dean said.

I could feel the tears run down my cheeks as he spoke.

"this isn't my best friend talking, he would never say those things." I spoke, more for my benefit than for his.

"you never had a best friend, just an excuse for wimping out, and guess what angel, I quit."

"no, you don't get to quit, we don't quit, okay you and me Dean we're bonded whether you like it or not, and this bond is all that we've got." I cried.

"well then we've got nothing." Dean smirked.

I looked down at the floor, praying that Sam had noticed I was gone. I was praying to Castiel to come find me. I knew if it came down to it, I couldn't kill Dean, even if it meant he'd kill me. I was praying for another solution.

I heard the door open and the sound of heeled footsteps against the floor.

"you brought us a play thing?"

I looked up to see a female, she wore black eyes similar to Deans.

"not us, mine." Dean growled at the girl who took a step closer to me.

"but I want to play too." she smirked coming over to me, brushing a piece of hair off my bare shoulder.

I shivered at her touch, trying to move away with what limited space I had.

"I said no." Dean growled.

I glanced up meeting Dean's eyes and for a second, just a second, I could see he wasn't totally gone.

"have you gone soft on us Winchester?"

"ha, not even, but you see that one's kind of a special project of mine, and I want to kill her myself." Dean smirked staring at me.

"okay, then I won't kill her."

As she said this, she shoved the chair back, causing me to hit my head on the concrete below. I grunted as the air was knocked out of my lungs.

"I'll just hurt her." she laughed.

"Dean please." I pleaded, struggling to breathe.

"Dean's gone." the woman whispered, running a hand through my hair.

"Dean I know you're in there. I'm begging you. I always rely on you because I know I can. Dean you're the most selfless person I know. I know that somewhere inside you still care. I know you don't want to hurt me Dean." I cried.

As I was putting on my show, I managed to wiggle one of my arms free. I reached around to grab my blade that was hidden in my belt loop, but I didn't feel anything.

"are you looking for this?" she smirked, inspecting the demon blade.

"go back to hell where you belong." I snapped.

"nice show, even almost had me fooled for a second." I heard her laugh.

She held the blade to my cheek. I could feel my breathing quicken as she ran the blade down my cheek towards my neck. She pressed in just enough to draw a small trickle of blood. I looked past her to try to reason with Dean again but I didn't see him.

I suddenly felt blood splatter on my face. It was coming from the woman's mouth as Dean plunged the first blade deeper in to her spine. I watched the life leave her eyes in an instant. Dean grunted as he ripped the blade out, her now lifeless body slumping over my own. He threw her body off of me, picking the chair back up.

He started to pace around the room as if he wasn’t sure what just happened.

"look what you made me do!" Dean yelled.

"Dean, let me go, and then I can help you." I whimpered weakly.

Dean glared at me, his eyes going black before flashing back to his normal green ones. Dean growled, opening the door to the room before slamming it shut leaving me alone.

I had to get out of here. I noticed my blade still on the ground, just a few feet from where I sat. If I can get to it, I can cut myself free.

I leaned over as far as I could, causing the chair to tip over sideways. I once again smacked my head on the concrete as I fell. I groaned at the impact but shook it off, using my free arm to pull myself closer to the knife. I reached out my arm, my fingers just barely grazing the handle.

"come on!" I exclaimed, trying to grip it again.

I finally managed to wrap my fingers around the handle of the blade. I breathed a momentary sigh of relief, cutting my other arm free from the ropes than cutting my ankles free. I stood up weakly looking for an exit. I took my sleeve, wiping the blood off my face.

I wasn't sure how much of it was hers, and how much of it was my own.

I finally saw a red exit sign. I mustered up all my strength sprinting over to it. I put my hand on the door, but suddenly stopped.

I couldn't leave him.

I wouldn't.

I was debating with myself when I heard a loud growl. Dean must've come back and noticed I was gone.

"you're coming home whether you like it or not." I whispered, running through the warehouse.

I could hear Dean walking after me, opening doors as he went. It was eery how calm he walked.

"come on baby, don't you want to hang out with me, spend a little quality time." Dean yelled.

I quieted my breathing as I found the keys to the electrical room. I moved quietly against the walls towards the room.

I heard Dean kick down some doors, growling every time I wasn't behind one of them. I managed to get to the electrical room. I fumbled with the keys trying to unlock the door.

"fuck" I muttered in frustration.

I finally got in, and immediately pulled every switch I could, killing the power.

"that's smart angel, but now I know where to find you." Dean growled as he rushed towards where I was.

I hid against the wall waiting for him. I heard him enter quietly, looking around for me.

"come on out angel, you're just making things worse for yourself." Dean growled.

I rushed over to the door, just as Dean threw the switches back, restarting the power.

"now this is me yanking your ass out of the fire." I spit slamming the door and locking him inside.

I heard Dean chuckle.

"this is your big plan, locking me in?"

"Dean, just please come with me and we can cure you." I said holding out my demon blade.

It was completely silent.

"Dean?"

I jumped in fright as Dean banged on the door, slowly splitting the wood.

"you act like I wanna be cured, personally I like the disease." Dean growled, using a hammer he found to break the door down.

"Dean stop! I don't want to use this blade on you!" I yelled holding it out further in front of my body.

"that sucks for you doesn't it angel, cause you really mean that." Dean smirked, hitting the door with the hammer again.

"Dean if you come out of that room, I won't have a choice." I whimpered, choking back tears.

"oh sure you will, and I know which one you'll make, isn't that right baby?" Dean growled smacking the door harder.

I knew the door wouldn't hold him much longer.

"I'm lucky though, cause there's just enough demon left in me that killing you, ain't gonna be a choice at all." Dean growled continuing to break the door down.

I felt the tears streaming down my face at this point. I could see the door giving way. I turned around sprinting away before it broke completely. I heard one last loud bang before the door gave way. Dean's heavy footsteps were once again behind me.

"come on angel, lets kiss and make up. I'm tired of playing let's finish this game." Dean growled.

I leaned against the wall taking a deep breath. I didn't have the strength to continue. I knew I was no match for him.

I glanced down the corridor where I thought Dean was coming from. I didn't see him though.

I turned around just in time to see a hammer flying towards my head. I ducked quickly, pushing my demon blade against Dean's throat. I could hear Dean chuckle as he looked at me, raising his hands in mock surrender.

"well, well look at you baby, go on do it." Dean growled leaning in to the knife.

I felt the tears cloud my vision as I slowly dropped the knife.

I couldn't kill him.

I watched as Dean's eyes went black. He gripped my throat throwing me against the wall before slamming me on the ground. I watched him take out the first blade, bringing it above his head.

"Dean I love you."

I closed my eyes, waiting for death to come.

But it didn't.

I opened my eyes to see Dean growling, as if he was fighting an inner battle with himself, a battle for his soul. I caught sight of Castiel sneaking up behind Dean, wrapping him in his arms. Dean growled, trying to get out of his grasp.

"Dean it's over." Cas said his eyes flashing their beautiful blue.

Dean collapsed in CastieI's arms, before I slapped the demon cuffs on him. I felt myself relax as I saw Sam rushing to my side.

****************************************************

"I'll meet you guys soon, just one thing left to do." I said holding the first blade in my hand.

"Be careful." Sam said placing a kiss on my forehead.

I gave him a nod, watching him get in the impala with Castiel and a still unconscious Dean. I sighed as they pulled away from me.

"you can stop hiding now." I called.

I saw Crowley emerge from the shadows, a smirk on his face as he eyed the blade.

"pleasure doing business with you." He spoke reaching his hand out.

I quickly pulled it out of his reach.

"what are you going to do with it?" I inquired.

"oh toss it in a volcano, leave it on the moon, i'll get creative." He laughed.

I hesitantly eyed him.

"believe me love, I don't want Dean getting his hands on the precious any more than you do. he knows I've ratted and he tends to hold a grudge....I don't want to get how you say boned."

I rolled my eyes at him.

"besides a deals a deal."

I huffed before handing the blade over to him.

"I hope you know this doesn't make us square, quite the opposite actually, I swear Crowley if I see you again.." I started but he cut me off.

"oh stop it love, no one likes a tease."

I glared at him one last time before hopping in the truck, starting the drive back to Kansas.

I felt like my head was going to explode from everything that had happened in such a short time. Dean's words replayed in my head on a continuous loop.

It wasn't him, I know that. It didn't make anything he said any less hurtful though.

It's never been you.

You see while you've been trying to find me, trying to save me, I've been fucking everything with a heartbeat.

Do you ever stop to think that just your very existence sucks the life out of my life?

I felt the tears cloud my vision, making the road harder to see. I pulled over to the side of the road and cried. I let out every emotion I'd been holding in.

I cried for Dean, I cried for what he went through. I cried for me. I cried for the strain that this was going to put on our relationship. I just cried.

I didn't know how long I'd been crying but I finally collected myself enough to start driving again. I knew that Sam and Castiel could handle Dean. I'm sure they were already back in Kansas, starting the purified blood cure on Dean.

I didn't even know if I was ready to face him again. I spilled my darkest secret to Dean, fearing that I would be dead and never having the chance to tell him.

Dean didn't kill me though.

He could have very easily, I didn't put up much of a fight.

But he didn't.

I was praying that maybe some part of him felt something for me too.

I managed to make the rest of the drive to Kansas. I pulled up to the bunker, hearing Dean growl as the demon was expelled from his body. I hesitantly walked over seeing him slumped over in a chair, much like I was hours ago. Sam injected another syringe of purified blood in to his arm.

"what the hell are we doing to him guys? I mean even after everything he said he didn't want to be cured, that he didn't want to be human." I spoke, feeling the tears that I was sure I had cried all out, start to rim my eyes once again.

"well, I can see his point, you know, only humans can feel real joy, but also such profound pain." Castiel said staring directly at me while talking about pain.

"I guess this is easier." Sam added.

I was about to respond when Dean groaned, trying to move. He raised his head, showing us his black eyes, before they returned to their shade of green.

Dean groaned hoarsely before exhaling a big breath. He looked at the three of us confused, as if everything was coming back to him.

"you look worried guys." Dean spoke up.

I could feel Dean's eyes stay on me. He stared at me intently. I just hoped I didn't look as broken as I felt.

Castiel, Sam, and I gave each other a look, all wondering the same thing. Was Dean back?

Sam uncapped the holy water throwing it on to Dean's face. I sighed with relief when he didn't have a reaction to it. Sam smiled at us. I was still a little apprehensive as was Castiel.

"Dean, we've missed you." Sam said.

Castiel and Sam unchained Dean, helping him to his feet. I felt like every word I wanted to say was stuck in my throat. Dean stared at me as the boys led him to his room. He was weak, the blood cure taking a lot out of him.

How was I even supposed to talk to him about this?

Castiel and Sam returned quickly after getting Dean settled.

"how's he doing?" I asked the boys.

"he's still a little out of it, but better. I mean I think the blood cure, all of it, it really wrecked him you know." Sam said giving me an apologetic look.

It was silent for a moment.

"on the plus side, he's hungry again so I'm going to go pick us up some food, you guys mind keeping an eye?" Sam added grabbing the keys to the impala.

I nodded my head as he walked out. Castiel was unnaturally quiet.

"what is it Cas?"

"one problem is solved, but one still remains. Dean is no longer a demon, that's true, but the mark of cain, that he still has, and sooner or later that's going to become an issue.”

I knew he was right, Castiel always was.

"one battle at a time Cas." I half smiled.

Castiel looked at me with a sad face. It was no use hiding my emotions from him because the angel always figured it out. Castiel stepped up, wrapping his arms around me in a hug. I felt a tear cascade down my cheek as I sunk in his embrace.

"I'm uh, going to get cleaned up." I whispered.

I felt every muscle in my body aching as I walked to the bathroom. I cringed when I saw my reflection in the mirror. I looked like hell.

I sported a hand shaped bruise around my throat, along with a cut from my knife. I had a gash on my head, and my face was still crimson colored from the blood. I could see various other bruises forming all over. I licked over my lip that was busted from being thrown against the wall by Dean.

I definitely looked as broken as I felt.

I sighed as I stepped in to the steady stream of water, the sound of the water slapping against my skin drowned out my sobs. I scrubbed my skin until it felt raw.

I got out wrapping the towel tightly around my body. I tiptoed past Deans room. I couldn't help my curiosity as I heard Dean and Castiel talking.

"thank you, for stepping in when you did... has uh she talked to you? what does she say, does she want anything to do with me?" Dean asked.

I could hear the hurt in his voice. It made me hurt more.

"I'm sure she knows whatever you said, whatever you did, that wasn't really you, I mean it certainly wasn't all of you." Castiel reassured.

"Cas, I tried to kill her. Did you see her? I did that! I can't take back the things I said Cas." Dean said.

"Dean I feel I can be honest with you. You two have been through so much together, you're bonded. It'll take a lot more than you trying to kill her with a hammer to get her to walk away." Castiel said.

"you realize how screwed up our lives are that, that even makes sense?" Dean says causing Cas to chuckle.

"I think you should talk to her, and then maybe you should uh take some time, allow both of you to heal."

I heard Castiel exit Dean's room, closing the door. He gave me a wordless look as he passed, signifying that his words were just as much meant for me as they were for Dean.

Castiel the wise.

Of course I couldn't walk away from Dean.

I sighed as I walked to my room, quickly throwing on some clothes. As soon as I lay in my soft bed, I realize how burnt out I was. I heard a soft knock on my door.

"yeah?" I called out hesitantly.

"it's me, the real me."

I felt the air get caught in my throat.

"come in."

Dean opened the door slowly. I could see the hurt flashing in his eyes at he looked at me. I sat up not meeting his eyes. Dean walked over, sitting on the edge of my bed.

"(y/n), I.."

"you don't have to apologize Dean, I know that wasn't you." I spoke.

"it doesn't make it any less shitty though." He said through gritted teeth.

"or hurt any less." I admitted.

Dean ran a hand through his hair in frustration. I could see that this was really hurting him.

"but you could've killed me, and you didn't, you saved me, you stopped yourself." I said finally meeting his eyes.

"I couldn't kill you. I feel for you too much, even as a demon." Dean whispered, hesitantly looking at me.

I felt my heart swell up at his words.

"what I said, it wasn't true." Dean said, sliding just a bit closer to my body.

"it's okay if part of it was, it's never been me and that's okay." I said feeling my heartache.

Dean looked at me as if I had three heads.

"never been you? It's always been you."

I felt the tears run down my cheeks as Dean put a hand up, caressing one of them.

"Dean I don't know how we move on from this." I cried.

"I don't know either, but we're going to do it, together, just like always."

I smiled at Dean for the first time.

"there's my Dean." I whispered.

Dean leaned in slowly, leaning his forehead against mine.

"did you mean what you said?" Dean asked hesitantly.

I gave him a confused look.

"that you love me, did you mean it?"

I swallowed nervously as I stared at him. I slowly nodded my head adverting my eyes from his gaze. Dean grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him.

I gasped as Dean crashed his lips on to mine. I was shocked so naturally I was still. Once my brain processed what was happening I pressed my lips against his, kissing him as if my life depended on it. He pulled away slowly, keeping his forehead pressed to mine.

“I love you too, I always have.” Dean spoke.

I felt the tears well in my eyes again, but these tears were different. These weren’t tears of sadness, they were tears of pure love.

Dean smiled as he reconnected our lips together in a heated kiss. It was lustful, neither one of use being able to contain the passion we had felt for each other for far too long.

Dean slid his hands under my shirt, gripping on to my hips as he deepened the kiss. I was so caught up in the moment I ignored my muscles screaming at me to stop. Dean brought my shirt over my head, breaking the kiss just long enough to do so. I felt insecure as my bare chest was now exposed for him. I panted as he brought his lips down to my neck gently kissing over the bruise.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart.” Dean said in between kisses.

I grabbed the hem of his shirt taking it off. I saw the mark of cain glistening on his forearm. I brought his arm to my lips, slowly kissing over the mark. Dean pushed me back on the bed so he was hovering over me. I gasped as his hands slid there way down my body to my shorts.

It was slow and passionate. I felt like my skin was on fire every time his fingertips met my skin. Dean dragged my shorts down my legs, his fingers brushing against my sensitive heat.

I wasted no time putting my hands in his pants yanking them down over his butt and down his legs. I was surprised to feel that he was already fully erect.

“do you want this?” Dean asked kissing my lips.

“more than i’ve ever wanted anything.”

Dean, with my consent slowly slid himself in to me. I groaned as my body adjusted to his large girth. He started to move at a slow pace, savoring the feeling of finally being together so intimately.

“It’s always been you.” Dean said as he thrusted deeply.

I don’t think either of us had the energy for the sex we really wanted to have but this sex was sweet, and full of love. I moaned as Dean picked up the pace, but still savoring the feeling of every thrust inside of me. I brought my hips up matching his thrusts. I was a moaning mess as we thrusted against each other, our lips crashing with each thrust.

“Dean” I moaned signifying that I was close.

Dean thrusted some more, softly but at a steady rhythm. I moaned one last time as I felt myself spilling over the edge. I was gripping him so hard, it cause him to release his arousal too. Dean’s body gave out as he collapsed beside me.

“hey guys I got the… oh god really Dean?” Sam said dropping the bag of food and covering his eyes.

I laughed at him, joined by Dean.

“not even back twenty four hours and this is how you’re spending your time.” Sam groaned in embarrassment.

“blame Cas, he’s the one that told us we should talk.” Dean laughed.

Sam backed out of my room, shutting the door behind him. I gazed at Dean but found out he was already staring at me.

“I didn’t save you, you saved me.” Dean whispered tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

“I’ll always save you Dean.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

Author Note:

I really hope you guys like it! If you feel so inclined please leave a heart, comment, reblog or a follow! I appreciate it!

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doodle-pops · 7 months ago

Text

For Pride or Joy

Fingon x reader

Warnings: nothing, it’s all fluff

Words: 700

Synopsis: You make a daring bet with Fingon.

“You really wish to make that bet with me? You know I’ll win, right?” he asked with a mischievous twinkle in his sapphire eyes. Head tilted and lips tugged to form a smirk, he awaited your negative response as expected since the beginning of the argument.

With a lame scoff, you rolled your eyes and looked away from his childish antics. You didn’t understand his persistence when everyone, even Eru knew he would fail from the start. However, failure was never an attribute of Fingon, and you wonder what he would look like should it have happened. Darting your eyes at him with sinister intent behind them, you grinned innocently and held out your hand for him to shake. “Loser has to do everything the winner demands?”

Without skipping a beat, his larger hands gripped you in a firm handshake while his grin mimicked yours. “Deal.”

Fingon wanted to drown himself in the vat of wine he stood before as thoughts of his foolishness for agreeing to your bet hurled across his mind. What would he do to have someone take him out of his misery?

You were standing on the opposite side of the room gossiping with your friends and laughing at Eru knows what concerning the latest drama in Tirion. He felt like you were mocking him as you were for the last five hours. Your necklace fell perfectly against your neck; you insisted on wearing the one gifted to you by him at the beginning of your courtship. The way you smiled with your pretty wine-stained lips, batting your lashes at him from the corner of your eyes when no one was looking.

In this moment, you were his agony. And all because of that foolish bet…and his foolishness.

“You’re a very physically affectionate person Finno. I doubt you can survive for five seconds without touching some part of me.”

He scoffed. It grew worse when he realised what ‘no physical interactions’ meant when he came to visit you this morning to whisk you away for the family dinner. You walked past him without sparing him a ‘hello kiss’ or a ‘good morning darling kiss’ and rushed to the carriage. He crumpled to his knees and almost rushed to cling to your legs when you broke the second rule to him.

“No physical interactions mean no kissing as well Finno. You of all people should know that Prince Touchy.”

You were the cruellest person to walk the earth, and to be paired with you as his lover. A curse! A nightmare! The world was coming to an end, and he could really do with drowning himself in that vat of wine at that moment. All his siblings and cousins were busy engaging with their beloveds and placing kisses upon their cheeks and hands while he had to watch like a loser. Many of them had paraded to his side to inquire if he was alright the entire day while he ground his teeth and squeezed out positive responses.

“Pouting does not suit you, darling.” He whipped around at the sound of your voice goading him in the festivities of his family. “It appears as though you might cry any minute for whatever is the matter. Handkerchief?”

He exhaled and rolled his eyes, not the common expression for his mirth personality. “Mock me all you want, I will win,” he declared and took a sip of his wine. “However, I am thrilled to have this competition, for now I know you are far too mean and sly. Tell me, why must you take it so far and deny me what I love the most?!”

“To prove me right when I said you adore physical affection like your existence depends on it,” you sniggered and gave him a smug look. “There’s nothing wrong with losing to me. I’m your lover, so it’s also a plus. Or does your pride refuse your ability to accept defeat?”

“Defeat does not exist in the life of Prince Findekáno, sweetheart. I will win even if today is just day one, I will win,” he confidently boasted with his head high and chin jutting out, refusing to accept your alleged statements about his natural habit.

Though, he was quick to succumb to his losses two hours later after you accidentally bumped your shoulder against his, urging him to engulf you into a hug on the dancefloor and swearing about not giving a damn about the bet when holding you was more important.

Masterlist

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random-fandom1984 · 8 months ago

Note

Hi welcome to tumblr for my first request can I get the tfp decepticons finding a pod and imagine their surprise when inside there is a bunch of sparklings I always head canon sparkling to look small and squishy looking like mashmellows and making beep and squeaky sounds I just love sparklings so much they are so cute

Coming right up!

Decepticons Meets Sparklings

●When coming across a signal, it was a medium-sized cylinder pod that reaches up to Megatron's *Clears throat* snatchable slutty waist- WOAH! Who said that? ●Anyways, a group of Vehicons managed to bring the pod back to the Nemesis before the Autobots could arrive. No one on the Nemesis knew what it could be, so the Vehicons made bets as to what it is. Is it a bomb? A shield that can stop an enemy from attacking? A sword that can control your opponents against their will for the rest of eternity? Definitely not 5t3v3's lame sparkling theory! ●When they opened it up, they found... 7 sparklings? 5t3v3 will forever and always rub it in the face plates of the Vehicons who doubted him. ●Some of the crew thought that this was a waste, but Megatron had an idea. If this war continues far longer than it should, they will have Younger Decepticons continuing their legacy, defeating the Autobots that have grown old, ensuring the Decepticons victory! ●So, the Decepticons were split among the crew.

Megatron

●Of course, he picked the one that was aggressive and looked the toughest out of the eight. He wasn't going to have an heir that was weak and pathetic. How he did this you ask? Simple. The one that bit Starscream's finger and wouldn't let go no matter how hard Starscream swung him around. ●Would definitely teach his sparkling how to swear, even having his kid's first word be a bad word. It's basically that one scene in Steven Universe where Peridot was trying to get Pumpkin to say "Clod". ●If he had somewhere to be, or just fight Optimus, he would let Soundwave babysit, he trusts his T.I.C. with anything. There's no way he's letting that incompetent seeker watch over his adopted child. ●He would name the sparkling Sunburst; a mighty name for his mighty sparkling to strike fear into his future enemies! ●Would teach his sparkling everything there is to know about fighting from his glory days in the Pits of Kaon as a gladiator

Starscream

●He would be last to choose, unfortunately, and get the runt of the litter. But that's fine, he can work with this. ●He would try to teach the sparkling to say "All hail Lord Starscream". The sparkling would end up calling him Sire. Starscream wouldn't act impressed in public, but in private, he would be squealing with joy; He's already, unintentionally grown attached to his sparkling. ●The bot he would allow to babysit his sparkling would be a Vehicon, mainly 5teve. ●The name he would give his sparkling would probably be Thundercracker or Skywarp, something to remind him of his old trine mates. ●Would try to push his sparkling to be better than Megatron, which would unknowingly put a strain in his relationship with his sparkling because, to his sparkling, nothing he does is ever good enough for his sire

Shockwave

●Finds Lord Megatron's reason to be... logical ●Would be the one to instantly find out which would be best for him. Don't question his methods ●Would name the sparkling Prodigy ●Will teach his sparkling all about the logics of science. Anything that his sparkling does that goes beyond the knowledge of science, proves something of his illogical, or both... he would be so proud. What is this emotion? Pride and joy? Logical. ●Would trust Predaking and or Soundwave to babysit his sparkling

Soundwave

●Others might not see it, but Soundwave would pick one that strangely looks similar to two of his old minicons Rumble and Frenzy. ●Would be the most overprotective of his sparkling. Sparkling gone from his quarters? He knows where he is; wandering the halls and is close by. His spark swells when he finds out that the reason for his sparkling's escapades is because the sparkling was looking for his sire: Soundwave! ●Would be recording and photographing his sparkling's milestones and accomplishments ●The sparkling's name would be Hightop ●Would trust Lord Megatron, Shockwave, or Knockout with babysitting his sparkling

Predaking

●This one was the closest to dying and required an Energon transfusion, and Predaking volunteered. Luckily, the sparkling survived, and because the sparkling now has Predaking's Energon, not only are they related by blood, as humans say, but now the sparkling has grown Predacon features. ●Predaking was glad to have a Predacon that wasn't made in a lab this time. He made sure his sparkling was by his side until it can do things on it's own. ●The sparkling's name would be Inferno because it can transform into something that was Phoenix shaped along with abilities. ●He will tear Starscream a new one if he'd dare lay servos on his sparkling. ●Predaking would trust Knockout, Breakdown, Shockwave, and/or Dreadwing to babysit

Knockout & Breakdown

●Knockout would pick one that was better looking than the others, and Breakdown had no say in this, but didn't complain. He knew better. ●Would act the most like real parents because they always wanted a sparkling. ●They would named the sparkling Wildbreak. ●Breakdown will trust Dreadwing to babysit his sparkling, and Knockout would trust the Vehicons. If anything bad happens to his sparkling, he wouldn't repair any Vehicons as punishment, his words not mine. ●Knockout and Breakdown will always take pictures and/or record milestones or adorable moments with their sparkling: His first words, first steps, first friend, first fight and won, etc. Next thing you know, he gets a Conjunx Endura-

5t3v3 & Other Vehicons

●Since he called it, he called dibs on being the sire ●Spends every waking moment hanging out with his sparkling, playing games, spending time together, worries that he isn't doing a good job, only for those thoughts to completely disappear when his sparkling's first word is sire, goes towards him when attempting to walk, always goes, and cries for him when the sparkling gets a nightmare. ●Would do anything for his sparkling to ensure it's safety ●When looking for a babysitter, 5t3v3 would have one of the sparkling's Vehicon Uncles take care of it if he's on duty. He wouldn't take them with him because what if the Autobots show up, kill him, and take his sparkling away? No. No way! ●The sparkling's name would be Meteoroid

#transformers #transformers prime #megatron #5t3v3 #starscream #knockout #breakdown #soundwave #shockwave #predaking #sparklings #requests #headcanons

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mayajadewrites · 11 months ago

Text

roommates to lovers–friends to lovers–slow burn

suguru geto x fem reader

synopsis: Suguru Geto is your best friend and roommate. After a year of living together, there have been more than one opportunity to throw away your friendship. The question is, would you get lucky as fall in love for the rest of your days?

ao3

🎧🌙🧺📖🕯️🧸🤍

please comment and let me know what you think, i'm very excited about this series 🤍

"Suguru, how does it taste?" You twist your fork into the pasta noodles, hovering the fork over your mouth.

"Maybe if you let me try it, I can give you an answer." Your roommate, Suguru Geto, said flatly. You've been living together for over a year now since you both got "adult jobs" you're able to afford the luxuries of life. Like an apartment and food.

"I've given you plenty of time.” You tap your index finger impatiently on the table. You refused to take the first bite, it always had to be Suguru. It's an unspoken rule.

Suguru rolled his eyes, taking a forkful of pasta and slipping it into his mouth. As he chewed, he nodded in approval. "It's great as always."

You smile to yourself, taking a bite of your pasta. You tried a new recipe today, making your own homemade sauce. Suguru is always down to be your guinea pig when it comes to new recipes. The only reason he doesn't forget to to eat is because of you.

"So, any plans for your birthday?" You ask innocently, when in reality you already planned a surprise party for Suguru at your apartment. You already invited his friends: Gojo, Nanami, Shoko, and Haibara. Suguru didn't have many friends. Unlike his best friend, Satoru Gojo, he is quiet and well spoken. He doesn't think rashly, or act on impulse. Everything Suguru Geto does is well thought out, almost calculated.

"Nope." He put a 'pop' sound at the end of the word. "I plan on staying in and reading the new book I just picked up."

"Ooooh." You're interested in what the book is about. One thing you and Suguru have in common is your love for reading. Being able to escape your reality and dive into another one is a feeling unlike any other.

"It's a thriller, the woman at the bookstore recommended it to me." Suguru sipped his water, taking his last bite of pasta.

"She gives you recommendations now?" You asked, almost in an accusatory way. You switched your tone when you noticed the attitude flying off your tongue. "She's never said 2 words to me."

"Yeah, we got talking the other day when I was in there." He got up to put his dishes in the sink, grabbing your bowl to go with it. "She looked like she needed someone to talk to."

I bet she likes him. You thought to yourself. Suguru hasn't brought any women back to your apartment in a few months, nor has he talked about any women he's interested in. Go figure he would meet one at a bookstore. How... romantic.

You wiped your hands on your apron, getting any residue off your fingertips. You heard Suguru turn on the sink behind you, starting to wash the dishes.

If you cooked, Suguru cleaned. Always.

"Suguru, can you help me with this?" You try to untie your apron, noticing you made a knot.

"Sure." He turned off the water, careful not to waste it. He made sure to dry his hands before his fingertips grazed your shoulder, sending goosebumps across your skin. "Damn, you really made a knot." He pried at the knot, finally getting leeway. His left hand stayed on your shoulder as he pulled one of the ties, letting the front of the apron fall. Suguru reached for the other knot near your waist.

"I can get it." You start messing with the knot.

"Okay miss independent." Suguru stayed close behind you as you struggled with the ties. His eyes could've burned a hole in your neck.

You sighed, admitting defeat. "Fine." Your hands fall to your sides.

"That's what I thought." Suguru's voice was soft as he untied the knot at your waist.

You and Suguru have had a handful of "almosts" together. Almost getting too close. Almost tasting him.

You've both chose to forget every spark between you, for better or for worse.

"For the record, you can still call me miss independent. It has a ring to it." You slipped off your apron, hanging it up on the hook adjacent to the refrigerator.

"Yeah, yeah." Surugu turned around to start the dishes again. You stared at the back of him for a moment, his long black locks cascading past his shoulders, half of the volume of his hair up in a bun. His shoulders are wide as you scan down his body, the muscles of his biceps moving to wash the bowl you were just eating out of.

You snap yourself out of whatever trance you're in, grabbing your lighter to light your "marshmallow fireside" candle. You and Suguru's place was always cozy and clean, almost like the two of you.

It feels like home.

You heard the water turn off, letting you know that Suguru is done with the dishes. "Mm, I love marshmallow." You heard him breathe in through his nose, taking in the sweet marshmallow scent.

"I know, I got this candle for you for Christmas, remember?" You grabbed a blanket from the rattan basket in the corner, snuggling yourself on the couch.

"Speaking of marshmallow." Suguru opened the freezer, grabbing a pint of ice cream that read 'Campfire S'mores'. "I grabbed this after the bookstore. Looked like something you would like."

"You mean we, you know you're a sucker for s'mores."

Suguru smiled as he grabbed two spoons, bringing the pint to the couch. He sat next to you on the couch, offering a spoon to you.

"Thanks, Sugu." You smile, draping the blanket over his lower half.

You spend the rest of the night watching trash TV and eating ice cream with your best friend.

#suguru geto #suguru x reader #geto suguru #getou suguru #jujutsu kaisen suguru #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #friends to lovers #roommates to lovers #slowburn #jjk fanfiction #jjk fanfic #suguru geto fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

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surrogate-fawn · 9 months ago

Text

The Purple Butterfly

((Drabble/Short story based on the backstory of a rp with @mittysins of Fawn's second surrogacy.))

{This drabble is Part 3 in a series of drabbles based on the story Mitty and I co-authored. This story will not make sense without reading the ones that come before it.}

[ Part 1 - The First Goodbye ]

[ Part 2 - Quartz and Sea Glass ]

[ Part 3 - Here! ]

Author's Note: A real-world initiative is mentioned in this story called The Purple Butterfly Project.

TW: Miscarriage, infertility, mentions of cancer, mentions of past abuse, pregnancy complications, past stillbirth/infant loss, grief and heavy emotional trauma.

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

Living with the Tariqs, I got to experience what it was like to be around a baby after it was born -- and every pounding headache that came with it.

Suri was a little spitfire as soon as she hit the atmosphere, and if she was unhappy the whole house would know it. The farmhouse wasn't all that big, and the guest room where I slept ended up sharing a wall with the nursery. So, you can bet I got woken up each time her parents did.

Those first couple nights, I would lay there in bed until Ray or Tess could stumble their way down the hall and quiet things down. Yeah, I wasn't very useful. I didn't have much of a choice, though. It was a miracle I could walk myself to the bathroom with how sore I was after Suri squirmed her way out of me.

It wasn't just soreness from the waist-down, either.

Being around a constantly crying newborn had an . . . unexpected effect on my body. After the birth of my son, aside from a little bit of colostrum, I had never produced breastmilk. I guess hearing Suri cry to be fed every few hours triggered something, because I suddenly had a full milk supply with nowhere to go.

Luckily, the Tariqs had a home remedy for everything. A couple of wet washcloths over upturned bowls in the freezer made some conveniently-shaped ice packs. Without those puppies, it felt like my breasts were filled with molten lead. So, my hands were occupied most of the day.

I felt guilty, watching either Ray or Tess get up from the couch to tend to their daughter while I was able to sit there with my hands on my boobs and continue watching TV.

I wasn't Suri's parent, but the fact I was the one who got her there made me feel like I had to help out.

Once I started to recover, that's exactly what I did. On a night when Suri refused to stop crying, I got up and poked my head through the cracked nursery door.

Tess was there, looking exhausted and defeated as she held Suri on her shoulder. That baby had been screaming in her ear for at least half an hour. She jumped when she turned and saw me in the doorway.

"Hi, Tess," I said with a sympathetic smile.

"Hey, doll," Tess sighed, continuing to bounce Suri up and down while she paced the room. She spoke a little louder than she needed to, likely 'cause she couldn't hear herself think. "I'm sorry she woke 'ya. I got no idea what 'ta do."

She sounded like she'd given up. This was how she was spending her night, and she'd resigned herself to it.

I thought about waking Ray, but his paternity leave ended in the morning. He had to be up in a few hours for his civil engineering job. Even with what little I knew about salary work, I knew eight weeks of unpaid leave for a brand-new baby was bullshit. Ray would've taken the full twelve weeks, but the city was jumping down his throat about finishing the blueprints for an overpass project on-time. Tess was about to be left alone with a two-month-old for the sake of ten fewer minutes of traffic. That wasn't fair.

"Tess, lemmie take her for a while," I said, walking into the room. "You need a break."

"It's fine," Tess insisted. "She'll calm down . . . eventually."

I held out my arms. "Tess. Give 'er."

The purple bags under Tess's eyes made her look twice her age, and her pale yellow hair was a rat's nest hanging down her back. She was at her wit's end. "Okay."

Suri weighed almost nothing as I settled her against my shoulder. It still amazed me how small babies were. They seemed so much smaller when you actually got to hold them.

"Hey, what's wrong?" I asked Suri. My ear started to ring as she wailed into it, her cries high-pitched and distressed. I started patting her back like I'd seen her parents do. "What's wrong, baby girl? What's got you so upset?"

Tess collapsed into the glider in the corner of the nursery, her hands rubbing circles into her temples. "I've changed her. I've fed her. I've prayed over her. I've got no idea what my own baby needs!"

"Well, I've got no idea, either," I shrugged, my toes digging into the soft sherpa rug by the crib. I continued patting Suri's back. Her feet were pressing against my chest, as if she were trying to pull herself upright.

"But I'm supposed 'ta know!" Tess whimpered. She ran her fingers through the knots in her hair. "I'm her mama! Mamas are supposed 'ta know what 'ta do, but I can't even calm her down!"

"You're not a bad mama, Tess," I said, offering her a smile -- despite the continued screaming in my ear. "Trust me, I know what a-."

The screaming was cut short with a small 'gurk', and I froze when a wet glob of spit-up slithered down my back.

". . . think I figured it out . . ." I said, my smile now pinched.

Suri grumbled, and I carefully held her out in front of me. Her face was still red, but her expression was pure baby bliss -- milky spittle on her chin and all.

"Did you have a tummy ache, baby girl?" I asked. "Is that what was wrong?"

Tess shot up from the glider, sending it bumping into the wall. "Oh, Fawn, I am so sorry!" she said, taking her daughter out of my hands. She took the burp cloth off her shoulder, as if suddenly remembering it was there, and handed it to me. "Here, clean 'yaself up."

"S'alright," I chuckled, cringing as I wiped up the gobby mess. "I've got other shirts. At least I got her to stop crying."

Tess looked down at the baby in the crook of her arm, and then back up at me. "Wanna try a hand at gettin' her 'ta sleep?"

Long story short, that's how I found my new job as the Tariq's live-in babysitter.

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

I wasn't expecting to do surrogacy again, at least not for a long while. The Tariqs were paying me a decent wage for domestic work and were kind enough to not charge me rent -- so long as I was saving a certain amount of the money each week. The last post I ever made on the surrogate agency's forums was an announcement celebrating Suri's successful home birth. After that, I let my profile go dark.

Not only did hiring me allow the Tariqs to keep their promise of helping me on my feet, it also gave them an extra set of hands around the house while Ray was at work. Tess and I worked out a system where I would work on smaller tasks while she took care of the most pressing matters. If she was feeding Suri, I was cleaning the kitchen. If she was cooking dinner, I was changing a diaper. If she had to do yardwork, I was keeping Suri entertained.

I learned to prepare formula, wash bottles, change diapers, and play peek-a-boo like a pro in no time.

Bath time was always a tag-team effort, though. Suri was a splasher, and her favorite bath toy was a rubber turtle called "Squirta Turta", so we usually ended up as soaked as she was.

When Suri was being weaned off formula, we made homemade baby food with the vegetables in the garden. Turns out, placenta makes a great fertilizer. I wondered if Mom had ever used it in her flower beds -- she'd had five of them to work with by the time all of us kids were born. I wished I could ask her. I wished I could ask her about a lot of things. I also wished Suri could eat her mashed squash without trying to wear the bowl as a hat, but I didn't get that wish, either.

This was my life for two wonderfully chaos-filled years, and I was mostly content with it.

Mostly.

I wanted to go to college. That was always my plan for after high school, but . . . plans had obviously changed. My grades hadn't been anything to brag about, so I knew from the start I'd have to pay my own way through. I had two years' worth of savings, but I didn't want to dip into it, yet. That money was meant to be the down payment on a house someday. What would be the point of spending all my money on school if I'd be right back to square one afterward? That wasn't what I wanted. I wanted to get my degree and start my life over -- I'd been waiting long enough.

After sitting down with Ray and breaking down the costs of school, I realized I barely had enough to pay for one term. There were some small scholarships I could apply for here and there, but I wasn't about to rely on winning them. There were hundreds of smarter students out there vying for the same pile of money. What chance did I have?

I mulled it over for several days without saying a word to anyone, but eventually I made up my mind. When I did, Tess was the first person I told:

"I'm gonna get pregnant again."

I announced it out of the blue as I was helping Tess with the after-dinner dishes. She was at the kitchen sink, washing. I was at the counter, drying.

The steel wool in her hand scraped to a halt. "Pardon?"

I hunched my shoulders a bit as I toweled off a plate. "I'm gonna find another couple that needs to 'rent a room'. It'll be able to pay for my degree. In full. All four years."

Tess continued washing, but she didn't acknowledge what I'd said at all.

"So . . . what do you think?" I prodded, setting stacks of dishes in the cabinet.

Tess grimaced into the soapy water, concentrating way too much on the pan she was scrubbing. "Shug, I dunno," she said. "Do 'ya really wanna do that 'ta 'yaself so soon?"

"Whatd'ya mean 'so soon'?" I scoffed. "Suri's up toddling around the house. Isn't that when most moms get pregnant again?"

"'Ya ain't a mom, yet, Fawn," Tess said, her tone lovingly blunt -- the tone that can only be learned by disciplining a toddler.

I flinched a little, but I crossed my arms over my chest to hide it. All she'd done was state a fact, but it still bit.

"I'd like to be," I mumbled. I gazed out the kitchen window and saw Ray out in the backyard with Suri. He was blowing bubbles, and she was reaching up to grab them with high-pitched screams of laughter. She chased them as they swooped lower to the ground, and then stomped on them with her tiny flip-flops when they touched the grass. "Someday."

"I know, doll. That's why I'm concerned." Tess set the pan on the drying rack. "Pregnancies are risky. Wouldn't 'ya rather have as few of 'em as possible?"

"I've had two and they went just fine," I said with a shrug. "I'm young, Tess! Isn't now the best time to use what I got? I can charge more, now that I've got experience. No student debt and money left over to save for a house! Trade nine months in exchange for the rest of my life? How could I pass that up?!"

Tess didn't say anything for a long time, she just dunked a chili pot in the dishwater and started scrubbing. I stood there in uncomfortable silence until she said:

"School can wait, 'ya know."

"No, it can't!" I protested.

"Ray and I can pay what 'ya need for classes when we start tryin' again," Tess said. "What on Earth's the point?"

"Point is," I huffed, leaning my hip against the counter, arms still crossed over my chest, "I'm almost twenty-four and I've got nothin' to show for it!"

"Fawn, 'ya gotta think about-."

"I'll still be able to help you guys out, Tess," I added. "Don't worry about that."

"It's not us I'm worryin' about," was her deadpan response.

It was frustrating as hell, but I wasn't too angry at her. I knew why she wasn't a fan of the idea.

The three of us had recently discussed growing their family in the future. The Tariqs wanted to wait until Suri was a little more independent before welcoming a second baby, so that plan was at least two more years out.

Following that conversation, we'd decided not to return to the surrogate agency we used the first time. The agency was helpful with the fine print and legal stuff, but the Tariqs had not been too thrilled to learn that a desperate, homeless, childless young woman had been allowed to become a surrogate of theirs.

"I can do it independently," I said, pleading my case. "I know how to be careful."

Tess turned to lock eyes with me. "Fawn . . . I just need 'ta know you're doin' it for the right reasons. I don't like the idea of 'ya going through all that for nothing but a stack'a cash."

"It's not just for money" I insisted. "I wouldn't go through it again for anyone, not even you guys, if I didn't find it meaningful."

Tess didn't seem any more at ease with my promises. "I just don't want 'ya health 'ta suffer. If 'ya do this, you're choosin' 'ta put 'ya body through a lot in such a short time."

I didn't argue. She was right. "I know."

Tess turned back to the sink, sighing while she rinsed out the pot. My toes curled inside my shoes.

"I want to help another couple while I still have the chance," I said, trying to justify my decision -- partially to myself. I could sense how strong Tess's disapproval was, and it was giving me serious second thoughts. "If I can't be a parent right now, I want to make it possible for other people to be parents. It makes the wait feel . . . less long."

Tess dried her hands on her long bohemian skirt and turned to gently hold my shoulders. "Doll, it's 'ya own choice. Ray and I can't stop 'ya from doin' whatever it is 'ya wanna do."

I nodded, my eyes cast down. I didn't need their permission, nor had I been asking for it, but some support would've been -- .

"Just know that we'll be here 'ta help 'ya," Tess continued. "Anything 'ya need, just ask. If you're gonna do this, I want 'ya as healthy and happy as possible."

I nodded again, this time with a smile on my face. "I'd appreciate that."

Tess wrapped me in a hug. "But please, shug," she added, patting my back, "don't put 'yaself through too much."

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

"Easy there, doll. I've got'cha."

Tess held my curls back as I wretched into a blue emesis bag. I'd started growing my hair out in the months it took for this surrogacy to be arranged. I hadn't been thinking ahead.

I'd thought I was in the clear after I had to have Tess pull over on the highway so I could vomit up breakfast, but the antiseptic smell of the hospital kicked up my nausea again. I'd made it through the halls, but by the time I'd sat on the exam table my stomach had enough.

I choked on thick saliva and spit a mouthful of colorless bile into the bag. "Okay . . . okay, I'm good now," I spluttered as I lifted my head. I cinched the bag and handed it to the technician without looking them in the eye. "Sorry."

"Don't be," the tech laughed, "morning sickness is par for the course in here. I'll be right back, just make yourself comfortable." They dragged the privacy curtain closed behind them as they left the room.

Tess wet a paper towel in the hand sink for me. My skin was clammy and cold even before I wiped the towel across my face -- so I wasn't left feeling any better. My hands had a tremor so deep inside the tendons it registered as numbness. I raked my front teeth over my tongue to scrape away the acidic taste.

I hadn't really needed that blood test. I'd known the IVF had worked when I woke up clinging for dear life against the Earth's rotation. My head hadn't stopped spinning since, and it was two damn weeks later. The doctor overseeing my IVF had sent me in for a six-week ultrasound -- which was earlier than I'd ever had one done before -- because my hormone levels were "suspiciously high" this time around. Whatever that meant.

I'd been pumped full of fertility drugs like a chicken with GMOs for a solid four months by that point. No shit my hormones were off the charts, especially now that I was pregnant.

"It's never been this bad," I groaned, coughing on the burn in my throat.

"Yeah, that's why the doctor wants 'ya in here," Tess said with a chuckle.

"I hate it," I scowled. "I want the old morning sickness back."

"Each time is different," Tess said. "I had it once or twice before, but when I was pregnant with Ravi it never really went away." Any time Tess mentioned her angel baby, a little bit of the light left her eyes -- and I saw it happen again right there in that ultrasound room.

Tess helped me pull off my jeans and tucked my discarded underwear inside the back pocket for me. I covered my hips with the paper blanket just before the tech came back into the room.

"Looks like we're ready to start!" they chirped, taking their seat between me and the rolling ultrasound cart.

"Hang on a sec," I said, pulling up the FaceTime app on my phone. "The parents really wanna see the first ultrasound."

"Ah," the tech said with an understanding nod, "is this a surrogate situation?"

"My second time," I said with a proud grin. I pointed at Tess, who was folding my pants over the back of a chair. "I carried her baby first. Most amazing thing I've ever done."

Tess beamed at me. She was smiling, but the shadows on her face were a bit deeper than normal.

"Really now!" The tech exclaimed, keeping their peppy tone as they typed my info into the computer. "It's rare I see surrogate mothers as young as you. Bless your heart!"

"She's a trooper, that's for damn sure," Tess said, "but, God love 'er, she's been so sick."

"I'm sure your care provider can prescribe something for that at your follow-up ," the tech told me. "It won't feel this bad for much longer, sweetheart."

"It's worth it, though," I said. My phone bubbled with the ringtone of an outgoing video call. "These guys will be amazing dads."

The tech smiled at me. "I have such respect for traditional surrogates. That's a lot of sacrifice."

"Oh, no," I corrected them with a small hand wave. "This isn't traditional. These are the bio parents."

I hadn't willy-nilly accepted the first eager couple I'd found online. I'd put half a year's worth of thought into carrying this pregnancy. The Tariqs always gave me my birthday off, and I'd spent that entire day talking to prospective parents. I wanted to prove to them that I was taking this seriously; if I was doing this just for the money, I wouldn't have cared whose baby I carried. I wanted to vet my options and choose a couple that I well and truly felt honored in helping -- and the Gillespies were exactly that.

My phone screen flashed with a mixture of bright pixels before the video came into focus. An odd pair of men sat beside each other in what appeared to be either a kitchen or a dining room -- perhaps it served as both, they lived in a small condo. One was a tall, tanned athlete with a dark stubbly beard and a sculpted figure rippling beneath his loose-fitting tank top. That was Silas. The other was a willowy, ramen-haired man with thick blue octagon frames on his glasses and the quote, "It's only a passing thing, this shadow" from The Two Towers tattooed on his forearm. That was Owen.

"Hey, guys!" I said, holding my phone up and giving them a wave.

There was a slightly-too-long pause due to lag, but both guys lit up with smiles and greeted me in unison. I saw the tech looking at the screen from the corner of my eye. I could see the math trying to play out in their head.

"You don't mind if we record this, right?" Silas asked. They must've been watching from a tablet, because he reached his finger under the camera and swiped a few times as if he were checking a separate app. As he lifted his arm, a crescent of silvery scar tissue became visible from under his shirt.

I saw the tech look back to their computer with a subtle nod of their head. God love 'em, they must've been too nervous to ask.

"Go ahead! It's a special occasion," I said. "I'm gonna hand you over to Tess. We're about to start."

"Yay, Tess!" Owen said with a clap of excitement. He waved as I passed my phone over. "Hi, Tess! Where's Ray?"

"Hi, boys," Tess said with a soft grin. She adjusted herself to be closer to my side. "Ray's workin' from home today so he can watch our 'lil darlin'."

Of course the Tariqs had wanted to meet my new clients. They said it was because they wanted to vouch for me as a caring and capable surrogate; but I think it was mostly to judge the couple for themselves. The Gillespies had both Tess and Ray's number as my emergency contacts, which came in handy when they needed help with some legal paperwork.

Silas and Owen were my age, both of them twenty-four. They'd poured all their savings into the process of hiring a surrogate and had none left over for a lawyer. At the Tariq's behest, all three of us had stayed up late on a call to talk the Gillespies through the steps of writing a surrogacy contract. Silas and Owen seemed to hold a lot of respect for the Tariqs after that.

While Tess had the camera on her, I reclined on the table and put my feet in the stirrups. The paper blanket gave plenty of privacy -- which was good, because I didn't want my clients to see the long plastic wand the tech was prepping while it was in there doin' its thing. I'd never had a transvaginal ultrasound before, but apparently it was the only way to get a view of the Gillespies' baby so early.

I couldn't help but tense as I felt the rounded tip of the wand slip inside me like butter, aided by the warm jelly I was used to having on my belly. I could feel the blood flooding my face as the curved device slid under my public bone and pressed against a part of my anatomy that hadn't been reached in years -- though not for lack of trying, I had short fingers.

"Relax a little more, please," the tech said.

"Sorry . . . not used to this."

Don't judge me. I was living with my employers. The idea of one of them finding an adult toy in my room -- or worse, their daughter finding it -- made me shrivel.

I felt a subtle buzz inside my tissues when the device turned on. I bit the inside of my cheek.

"Okay, let's have a look at that baby," the tech said as they began angling the wand.

Tess flipped the phone around so the dads could see the action. I saw Owen grip his husband's bicep and pull him closer. The room was silent for a moment while the technician moved the wand around my pelvis.

"Can we listen to the heartbeat?" Owen asked, hugging Silas's arm.

"Not yet," the tech said, eyes glued to the screen. "Their little heart is only a few cells big right now. It's too quiet to pick up, but we'll hear it in a few weeks."

Owen and Silas shared a grin. I could see their story written on their faces and in the way they looked at each other. They'd been dating since high school, the odd-ball pairing of bookworm and athlete. After graduation, a preemptive doctor's appointment before Silas started testosterone saved his life:

Cervical cancer, stage two. The doctors had no choice but to take everything, but Silas chose to freeze a few of his eggs before the surgery. He'd gotten into non-competitive bodybuilding to deal with the effects of chemo, and it'd been his favorite hobby since. Luckily, Silas had been cancer-free for years -- Owen had gotten his first and only tattoo in celebration.

Now that they were newlyweds, the Gillespies were choosing to start their family right away -- knowing the frozen eggs wouldn't last forever. We'd lost a lot of hope when most of the eggs didn't thaw right, meaning we only had one shot at this. The Gillespies were more than open to adoption, but . . . having a baby together was something they'd hoped for since before Silas's diagnosis.

I'd known I wanted to step up to the plate as soon as I heard their story. I was proud to be helping such a sweet pair of guys have their much-wanted family. When I saw the way they looked at each other in that moment -- the excitement and love of a dream finally coming true -- I secretly hoped doing this for them would grant me some sort of karmatic favor.

I hoped one day I'd share that same ecstatic smile with someone, for the same happy reason.

The tech hadn't said anything for a while. They kept moving the wand from side-to-side between my hips and squinting at the screen. They took several images, judging by how often they hit the same loud button on their keyboard. They hadn't even turned the screen around, yet. I couldn't wrap my head around the baby being so hard to find -- not with the ultrasound wand jammed so far up.

"Are they hiding from 'ya?" I asked with a joking lilt. Something was starting to sink inside my chest.

"No, I see them," the tech said. They squinted harder at the screen. "Just taking their picture for the doctor."

"That's a lot of pictures," Silas commented from my phone speaker.

"Well, I . . . just want to make sure," the tech said. Their keyboard clacked as they took another image.

It felt like I'd swallowed lead. "Sure of what?"

The tech finally tilted the screen so the rest of the room could see it. In the grey-and-white fuzz on the monitor, a round dark void was highlighted in a bright yellow square. Resting in the void was a blurry white bean with a small flutter in the curve of its shape.

"So, here's the gestational sac," the tech said, outlining the yellow square with their cursor. They circled the cursor over the fluttering movement. "That's baby's nice strong heartbeat right there."

"Silas, oh my god!" I heard Owen cry. "Look! We made that!"

The tech turned the wand slightly and the image on the screen rolled to the left. The same black void and white bean slid into view, except now it was upside-down. The tech once again circled their cursor around the flutter. "And this is another nice strong heartbeat."

"They have two hearts?!" I gasped in panic. I realized how stupid I sounded after it was too late. "Or is it . . . ?"

The tech flicked the wand from side-to-side, and each time they did a little black void with a bean remained on the screen. It took a few back-and-forths for me to realize those weren't two different angles of the same image.

"Holy shit . . ." I wheezed. My hand covered my throat, as if that would loosen the strangling tightness that was setting in. "Holy shit . . ."

“What? What’s wrong?” I heard Silas ask, his voice glitched and laggy.

“Boys, can ‘ya see?” Tess asked, holding my phone closer to the screen. “Can ‘ya see that?”

I wanted to turn my head and see the parents’ reaction, but I could not move my eyes from the ultrasound. The Gillespies were quiet for a minute as the tech continued to swivel the image from side-to-side.

“How many embryos did you transfer?” the tech asked.

“There were only two that made it,” Silas answered. I could sense the moment reality washed over him. “Wait . . . wait, are they both there?!”

“Yep,” Tess said. I have no idea what emotion was in her tone, but it had a glaze of forced excitement. “They both took root.”

“I can’t quite get an image of both of them,” the tech said. “I’m trying, but it looks like they’re on opposite walls of the uterus. That flipped one is way up there, too. They’re hanging onto the roof like a bat.”

“A bat bean,” Owen said. His voice was flat, like the quip was a reflex.

“So . . . twins, right?” Silas asked. “We’re having twins?”

“Congratulations!” the tech chirped.

My pulse was pounding under my hand. That lump of lead was sitting hard in my guts, right alongside those two tiny beans. Two. Two beans. Holy shit. Two.

Tess turned the phone towards me and I saw the moon-eyed shock on the Gillespies’ faces. “Fawn, honey?” Tess prodded. “Wanna say something? What’dya think?”

“I . . .” My saliva felt thick and hot in my mouth. My tongue fell numb and it nearly flopped down my throat as I shot up on the table, my legs still up in the stirrups. “I think I’m gonna be sick!”

Tess jumped for a trash can. She aimed the camera at her face while I loudly wretched in the background of my clients’ first family video.

“This explains a lot,” Tess told the fathers with a sheepish grin. “Two times the baby, two times the morning sickness.”

The Gillespeies were quiet for a while, an awkward pause with only the sounds of my suffering to fill the void.

“We’re having twins, Owen,” Silas finally said, just as I was pulling my face from the trash.

“Yeah . . . wow,” Owen’s voice answered.

I heard a subtle thumping from their end, like one of them was bouncing their leg. The tempo was frantic.

“What’s wrong, Owen?” Tess asked. She held the phone to be more level with her face.

All I heard was a harsh sniffle.

“C’mere, you big softie,” I heard Silas say.

“Don’t cry, honeybun,” Tess said. “It's a blessing!"

“I’m happy!” Owen insisted over the phone. “I’m so happy!” His voice was muffled, like he was hiding his face in his husband’s shoulder. “This is . . . whew! This is overwhelming!”

“No kidding,” Silas said with a laugh.

“No fucking kidding,” I said with my head in the trash.

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

It took a few days for the shock to wear off. The anti-nausea pills cleared my head so I felt less like I was walking in a fever dream. Once that edge was taken off, it made reality slip in a little smoother. I was pregnant with twins. There were two little jellybeans inside me that would be two full-sized babies in eight months. That was fine. Yeah, that was fine. That had to be fine. If it wasn’t fine, I was going to start losing my mind! So, it was fine.

I mailed the printouts of the ultrasounds to the parents. They had the digital pictures I took, but those physical copies were what really mattered to them. The three of us had never met in person. They lived hundreds of miles away, in Michigan. They wouldn’t be flying down to Tennessee until it was nearing my due date, so any physical memento of their babies I could send to them was much appreciated.

I wanted the Gillespies to feel included in my pregnancy as much as possible, even if they couldn’t be with me in-person. Each week I’d take a picture of myself turned sideways in the bathroom mirror and sent it to them. I basically sent them the same picture four times in a row. There was nothing much to show except for the tummy flab I’d collected my first two times around the block. By week ten, though, I could feel that familiar little lump starting to form below my navel. I had slightly too much of a pooch for there to be any trace of a bump, though.

Almost three months in, I was surprised by how normal my pregnancy was – aside from the intense bouts of nausea I relied on my medicine for. I’d thought having twins inside me would up the difficulty level, but up to that point my life had changed very little. I still got up every day to housekeep and nanny for my allotted shift, and I did so with the same ease I did before. The only change was how much of an eye Tess kept on me. It was very annoying.

“Fawn, no!” Tess trotted up beside me and took hold of my hips. “‘Ya don’t need ‘ta be up there.”

“Stop it!” I gasped as the stack of plates in my hand jittered. “Don’t grab me like that if you don’t want me to fall!”

Tess gently pulled me down from the stepstool I’d been using to reach the cabinet. “I can take care of those,” she said, taking the stack of dishes.

“Jesus, you’d think these were your babies,” I muttered.

“It’s easy now, doll, but you’re not far off from those little ‘uns hittin’ a growth spurt.” Tess climbed the stepstool and I rolled my eyes behind her back at the oh-so-dangerous foot and a half of height she stood above. “I can go ahead and take over the chores ‘ya need help with.”

I shrugged, lifting my hands and then letting them slap down onto my thighs. “Alright. Want me to take over Suri while you handle the dishes?”

“Yes, and I’ll be wiping down the countertops and stove with bleach. So, I don’t want either of ‘ya in here until I say so.”

“Right. Grabbing snacks.”

Arms full of Cheerios, applesauce pouches and beef jerky, I joined Surinder in the living room. She was watching one of her preschooler shows on TV from inside her pop-up play tent. Her toys were strewn all over the floor – the living room had become her territory and she marked it with Duplo blocks and miniature plastic food.

I bent over to start picking up and I grunted when the ligaments around my waist pulled tight. Tess was right about the babies, I hadn’t gotten round ligament pain so early before.

It wasn’t long before Suri crawled out of her tent and patted my leg to get my attention. “Fa! Fa!” she called my name until I turned around and acknowledged her.

“What is it, baby girl?”

“Go! . . . Go potty!”

“You gotta go potty? Okay, let’s go-oh!” I winced as I stooped to pick her up, my hands flying to my sides. There was that ligament pain again. I rubbed my hands into my lower belly, trying to work out the tension in my stretching muscles. “Let’s walk to the potty.”

I kept feeling that growing pain. I got a charlie horse in my back as I was helping Suri in the bathroom. That nerve-deep pain flared up in a ring around my hips as I sat down for dinner, but a slight adjustment in my posture made it nothing more than an annoyance. I went to bed that night safe in the knowledge I would wake up to another day of normalcy.

I woke up to my alarm, bright and early as always. I woke up to that ring of pain around my hips as I stretched out under the covers. I woke up to the sensation of wet fabric, something sticky plastered against the curve of my rear and up my lower back. I woke up to blood, both crusty brown and damp red, on my pajamas and sheets.

I woke up wanting to scream. Instead, I tip-toed past Suri’s nursery and padded down the hall to her parents’ room. I knocked once before opening the door. I was like a child needing to be comforted from a nightmare, appearing in the Tariq’s doorway and softly whispering their names until they stirred.

“Ray? Tess?” I leaned a little harder against the doorframe as I watched their silhouettes sit up in bed. “Can one of you drive me?”

Tess yawned. “Where, doll?”

“The ER.”

With the yank of a chain, Ray’s bedside lamp clicked to life. I didn’t need to scream. Tess did it for me.

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

Ray held my hand while we waited in the emergency room. I’d cleaned up and changed clothes – Ray had lent me a pair of his sweatpants, just in case I bled through my pad. All that remained of my pregnancy was sealed in a sandwich box on my lap. Tess suggested I take the large clump of blood and tissue I’d found in my underwear with me for the doctor to look at, but I hated holding that box knowing someone’s lost dream was inside.

Tess hadn’t come to the hospital with us. She stayed at the house until her parents arrived to take Suri for the day and then met us in the waiting room. I sat between them, resting my head on Tess’s shoulder while both of them wrapped an arm around me. We waited like that for over an hour.

Most of that day is a scrambled signal in my memory. There was a lot of waiting. A lot of fluorescent lights and white-beige walls. We watched TV together in the room they put me in, but I don’t remember what we watched. Only one memory of that ER visit is clear:

A nurse came in and confirmed what we already knew. They’d found the stringy prototype of a placenta in the tissue I’d passed, along with one of the gestational sacs. That was concerning, though. One. They’d only found one of the twins. There was a possibility I needed surgery, so they had to go in and see what was left. The Tariqs weren’t allowed to follow me as I was wheeled down to radiology.

The ultrasound room was dark and warm, the only light coming from the idle monitor of the computer. It was easy to close my eyes and drift into a trance as the tech smeared gel over my lower belly. I’d been scheduled for my next ultrasound in two weeks. I didn’t think I could handle seeing how empty I was.

“Did everything clear?” I asked, resting my hands over my sternum. Even if I didn’t want to see it, I still wanted to know if they were gonna have to scrape me out.

“I can’t say for certain until the doctor has a chance to look at these,” the tech said. “I’m just here to take pictures.”

I wished this was the same tech from my first ultrasound. I could’ve used their friendliness.

“I stopped cramping a while ago,” I said, “so hopefully it’s over.”

The tech rolled the wand up from my groin and I felt it press on the solid lump in the front of my hips. They were pressing hard – trying to get a good image, I assume – but eased off as they moved the wand just below my navel.

“Ope, no. Wait,” the tech said, “there’s the other one. Gosh, that one is way up there.”

Bat Bean. That’s what the Gillespies and I had been calling Baby B. We’d been calling Baby A “Jellybean”. I wondered what their real names would’ve been. My throat closed up and I had to stop wondering.

“Oh . . . my . . .” the tech said, nearly in a whisper. Then, much louder: “Well, hello there, little guy!”

“What?” I asked, opening one eye in hesitation.

I saw their face in the light of the monitor, saw the crescent moon of a smile below their reflective glasses. “It’s kicking!”

“What?!”

My neck arched and suddenly I was staring at the high-def image of a grey gummy bear on the screen. Nubby limbs twitched as the oval-shaped body curled and uncurled, swimming around its bubble of fluid like a tiny fish. The bulbous head turned and I watched in utter amazement as Baby B’s whole body flipped over in a summersault.

The tech hit a key and a steady whop-whopa-whop-whopa played as a line of white peaks and valleys appeared below the image. “And we have a heartbeat!” they announced, all monotone gone from their demeanor.

I must’ve been in a state of shock, because my memory after that moment is almost entirely blank. I have a vague recollection of signing some paperwork and a surgeon standing over my bed, listing off possible side effects. I remember a needle going into my arm, and then my memory is a void.

My memory restarts at the point I woke up in the recovery ward. Please understand that before this point, I had never had any kind of knock-out juice. I’d never had surgery before. So, please don’t make fun of me when I admit that I woke up crying. My vision was blurry, my head was in a vice, my anti-nausea medication had worn off, and it felt like I had a cactus in my vagina.

I saw a silhouette at my bedside, a woman’s silhouette with a ponytail of dirty-blonde hair. For a second, I thought my mom had forgiven me – I thought that someone, somehow, had reached her. I thought she cared enough to be worried about me. I reached out to her, craving to feel her hold me again. I felt horrible. I wanted my Mama to make it all better.

“M-om?” I mewled, my mouth slow and dry.

I touched the woman’s arm, causing her to turn towards me. She wasn’t my mom – just a nurse who styled her hair the same way. “No, sorry. I’m not Mom,” she said softly. “She’s probably waiting for you outside.”

I knew she wasn’t. I felt more tears trail down my neck.

“Just lay back and try to wake up a little more,” the nurse told me, “then we’ll let your family come back and see you.”

I dipped in and out of a fugue state, gradually returning to reality as the drugs wore off. Although I couldn’t remember much before surgery, I was inately aware that my cervix had been sewn shut. There was no telling what had caused me to lose Baby A, but Baby B was still considered at-risk. Sealing the exit shut was the best bet to keep ‘em in there. The fact I was still pregnant at all after so much blood loss and cramping was miraculous. Just to be safe, they hooked my IV up to something that would stop my uterus from contracting.

When I was awake enough to feel hungry and ask for food, the Tariqs were allowed to come sit with me in my cubicle of curtains. Tess sat on the side of my bed while Ray tried to nap in his chair. It’d been nearly twelve hours since we arrived at the hospital and we were all exhausted. I barely had the energy to lift spoonfuls of chicken noodle soup to my mouth. After I’d gotten some broth and crackers down my throat, and Tess and I had run out of small talk, Tess leaned in and wrapped her arms around me.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” she whispered into my ear. “I know what you’re feelin’, and it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

They weren’t empty words – far from it. Tess had been where I was time, after time, after time. Only, for her, it was worse – those lost children were her own. Then . . . there had been Ravi. I didn’t want to imagine how his loss had felt. Well . . . perhaps I could make a light comparison, but I at least knew my son was alive and well somewhere. I wrapped my arms around Tess in return, blinking back tears.

“No, Tess,” I said, my face covered by her long flaxen hair. It smelled like her mint shampoo. “I’m sorry you went through this so many times.”

Tess held me tighter.

“Have you told them?” I asked.

“No. We wanted ‘ta hear what the doctor said first,” Tess said. “Everything’s lookin’ okay with the baby right now, but he wants ‘ya on bedrest.”

“Can you . . . please call them for me? I don’t want to hear them . . .”

“I will,” Tess said, patting my back. “I’ll go outside and let them know.”

“If they ask which one it was . . .” I sniffled and choked back a small sob. “. . . tell them we lost Jellybean.”

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

I continued to send the Gillespies bumpdates every week. I never missed a single one. I continued mailing them printouts of their baby’s ultrasounds. We never talked or chatted about what happened, nor did we discuss medical updates about Bat Bean. For those, the Gillespies waited for either Ray or Tess to contact them. I didn’t want them to associate me – the woman carrying their one and only child – with talk of heartbreak and loss. I wanted Silas and Owen to be excited when they saw an email from me, not dread clicking on it. Ray and Tess stepped up to be the bearers of heavy news for us. My doctor had me going in for ultrasounds every two weeks, which meant a lot of baby pictures from me and a lot of medical updates from the Tariqs.

My stomach remained flat for quite a while, with just the slightest bump in my lower belly for weeks. But one morning, around fifteen weeks in, I swear I woke up looking like I’d swallowed a cantaloupe. I guess the baby had finally hit that growth spurt Tess had predicted.

His name was Milo Bennet Gillespie. Silas and Owen named him shortly after we discovered he was going to be a boy. Owen was a fan of classic books who worked at Barnes & Noble, so I had no doubt he was the one to choose the middle name. Sometimes we playfully referred to Milo as “Bat Bean”, but that nickname faded out in favor of his real name. I worried over him – a lot. I bought a home doppler online so I could check if his heart was beating. Whenever I noticed he hadn’t moved for a while, I would pull up my shirt and rub the doppler on my bump until I heard the whoosh of his pulse. The doctors kept saying everything was looking good with him, but I worried.

I was essentially given leave of my housekeeper duties until Milo was done cooking. The doctor wanted me off my feet, so I spent most of my days on the couch watching cartoons with Suri. She was observant enough to ask about my big belly in her two-word-sentence manner. Unsure how to explain the situation, I told her there was a small person living in my stomach and that his name was Milo. I even took her tiny hand and let her feel where Milo was wiggling around. She didn’t like that very much, it freaked her out and she ran to her mother. I didn’t want her to get excited for a baby that wouldn’t be coming home with me. That wouldn’t be fair to her . . . or to me.

It wasn’t the best experience, being pregnant without the baby’s parents there. When I was growing Suri, her parents were there with me at every doctor’s visit. They took me on day trips just for fun and to make sure I had enough to eat. They were able to put their hands on my belly to feel their daughter kick, and put their lips close to my skin so she could hear their voices. Milo didn’t have that. His daddies were hundreds of miles away. They’d never felt him squirm around, only I had. He’d never heard their voices close-up, just over the phone . . . maybe. The clearest voice he’d ever heard was mine . . . and my voice wasn’t going to follow him home.

Although I had the Tariqs there to support me and love me, I felt alone in my pregnancy. Milo was just a little visitor in the household – we had no toys or bedding or bottles for him, all of that was with his fathers. After he was born, no one would mention him – his future didn’t involve us at all. I was the closest thing to a mother Milo would ever have . . . and I wasn’t going to be a part of his life.

It was an experience I’d had before, with the last baby boy I’d held under my heart.

It took a toll. It really took a toll.

Before I knew it, I’d blown up big as a barn. I no longer had a lap when I sat down, my belly nearly reaching my knees. Milo was a big boy – the doctor estimated he was around nine pounds – and he was squishing all the fluid in my body into my lower half. My legs were hot and heavy and my feet were too swollen for my shoes, so I shuffled between the bathroom, kitchen and couch in flip-flops. God, I hated being on my feet. I spent my days either dicking around on my laptop – using my belly as a desk – or watching TV while sprawled out on the couch.

Surinder got really upset with me one day, when I refused to play tag with her. Ray and Tess were very mindful of how much Suri “bothered” me, but I never considered it bothersome. I loved Suri, she was practically my niece. I was sure to let her know that I wanted to play with her, but my “belly buddy” was making me too tired. I made up for it with lots of hugs and kisses, and I promised that once I was feeling better we’d play tag as much as she wanted.

As soon as I hit thirty-seven weeks, I was on high alert. I’d warned my doctor that I delivered before my due date at least once before, but he wanted to keep Milo in there until he was full-term. So, he refused to remove my stitches. As miserable as I was, I agreed. I wanted Milo to bulk up as much as he could, even if it added to my discomfort. If I could give Silas and Owen a perfect, healthy baby . . . maybe it would make up for what happened.

My body had failed one of their babies – and so help me God I was gonna force it to nurture the other! I was determined! I would make it to forty weeks!

Yet, I would not.

I pulled myself off the couch one afternoon to grab a snack and my knees almost folded. I leaned against the arm of the couch as a deep downward motion slid over my organs. My lungs were slowly relieved of their crushing burden and they eagerly filled to their maximum. I lifted the weight of my belly with one desperate hand because I had a blaring instinct about what was happening.

“Milo, don’t you dare!” I muttered under my breath.

Like a Duplo block clicking into place, Milo’s head slipped into my hips. My belly visibly dropped, I felt it shift to hit heavier in my hand. Almost immediately, I felt the baby’s heft sitting directly on my sutured cervix. I groaned and pressed my thighs together. The pain throbbed between my legs, sharper than I’d ever felt.

“Hey, Ray?” I called, knowing he was upstairs in his office.

“Yeah?” his distant voice rumbled through the ceiling.

“Can you bring me my phone?” I called. “I need to call the doctor.”

A few minutes later, Ray thumped down the creaky stairs with my cellphone. He paused when he saw me leaning over the back of the sofa, kneeling with my thighs apart. “You okay?” he asked, handing me my phone.

“I need to call the doctor and tell him I need my stitches out, like . . . tomorrow,” I said, unlocking the screen. “Milo’s in my hips, he’s not gonna wait another two weeks.”

Ray rubbed my lower back, scratching his goatee in thought. “Is he going to wait until tomorrow? You’ve been having cramps, right?”

“Yeah, but they’re irregular as hell,” I said, putting the phone up to my ear. “I’ll be in labor soon, but not that soon.”

I was wrong. I was so wrong. I was so horribly wrong.

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

“Silas? Hi. Yeah, it’s Ray.”

“Fuck! Oh, fuck!”

“We have a situation. Fawn’s having contractions and you boys need to get on a plane right now.” Ray ground his knuckles into my back while I wailed face-down on my bed.

I gripped a bag of frozen peach slices in a towel between my thighs. My arms hugged all my pillows to my chest beneath me, and I buried my head between them to yell my way through this latest contraction. My belly was squeezed into a perfect sphere, peeking out from under my shirt as it hung down to my mattress. The contractions were actually pretty mild, all things considered. They didn’t hurt that bad at all.

However! My body was forcing Milo down hard against my cervix. That pain was far, far worse than the contractions. His head was grinding against a closed exit, but the sheer force was spreading that exit open anyway. The baby was a battering ram and my cervix was a fortress door, splitting apart around its locks and bars with every slam.

“Fuck, I want these stitches out!” I cried into my pillows. “I want them out!”

“Yeah . . . yeah, you can get a refund on the tickets you already bought,” Ray continued on the phone, and on my back. “I’ll book a room for you, don’t worry about that. Just focus on getting here. Bring an overnight bag for each of you and some basics for the baby. I’ll pick you up from the airport, don’t bother with an Uber.”

Tess walked into the room, a large duffel bag slung over her shoulder and her hair thrown into a messy bun. “Everything’s in the car,” she said. Her hand squeezed my shoulder until my posture relaxed and I lifted my head from the pillows. “You ready to go have a baby, ‘shug?”

I nodded. Tess helped me to my feet and I waddled down to the car doubled over and holding my belly up. Even without a contraction, the pry and pull on the strings holding my cervix closed was constant. My seam was literally about to pop. I had to recline the passenger seat as far as it could go so I could somewhat lie on my side. My contractions were regular, but very far apart; so, thank god, I didn’t have to deal with any while cramped in the car.

My chest tightened when we pulled into the hospital parking lot. I knew I’d be having the baby here. I’d prepared for it, but thinking about it was so different from doing it. Because of the complications with this pregnancy, I had no choice but to deliver in the same maternity ward I’d walked into years ago. I . . . didn’t like thinking about what I went through in that ward.

Tess came around to my door to help haul me out, but I didn’t move. I stayed on my side, staring at the clouds hovering above the cars – they were painted with the summer sunset.

“‘Ya want me ‘ta get a wheelchair?” Tess asked, leaning on the open car door.

“Yeah,” I sighed, resting my cheek on my hand. “Tess, I don’t wanna go in there. I wanna do this at home.”

Tess looked over her shoulder, scanning the hundreds of windows looming ten stories over us. “Me neither,” she said, then turned and hustled toward the hospital entrance.

At eleven-thirty that night, I found myself sitting on a birthing ball in a stagnant delivery room. The only light was the yellow wall lamp mounted over my bed – anything brighter and my head would pound. A monitor belt was pulled snug around my belly, leashing me to a gaggle of machines beside the bed. An IV bag of pitocin hung from a hooked pole beside me, the tubes trailing down to a needle taped in place on the back of my hand.

I bounced on the ball, my hands braced on Tess’s knees while she sat on the side of the bed in front of me. I felt my torso squeeze and held my breath. The monitor beeped, registering a contraction.

“Blow the pain out,” Tess crooned, ghosting her fingertips up and down my arms.

I grabbed her knees and rotated my hips on the ball. A small “Ack!” bubbled up from my throat before I sucked air in through my nose and forced it out through pursed lips. I blew hard until my lungs went flat, then filled them again and continued the process. Salty water leaked from my shut eyelids and slid in thick droplets down my neck and back. I blew so I wouldn’t scream. I knew I could scream, but I didn’t want to come unglued only a few hours into active labor. Hell, my water hadn’t even broken yet.

I could still be in control of myself, even if this birth was not going according to plan.

I was hoping labor would be smoother after the stitches were out, but they’d only caused more complications. I’d dilated quickly regardless of the sutures, already three centimeters open when the doctor snipped the strings. He’d gotten to me too late, though. The stitches had ripped small tears in my cervix as Milo’s head pulled them apart. The swelling was immense – within minutes I was sealed shut again and my labor stalled. Hence, the pitocin.

The pitocin hijacked my body, forcing it to crush inward on itself like a soda can in a hydraulic press – at a strength and speed beyond what felt natural. I had never felt labor this intensely! I would desperately cling to any self-control I had in that beige nightmare of a room.

“Mmmmh,” I hummed through my nose, my hip swivel morphing back into a bounce as the contraction eased.

“Good job,” Tess grinned at me. “You’re doin’ so good, Fawn.”

I moaned and leaned back, bracing my hands on my hips as I rode that birthing ball like a rodeo star. “Have they landed yet?”

“Doll, they ain’t on the plane yet,” Tess said. “The only direct flight they could book on such short notice leaves at one-fifteen. Ray’ll call us when they take off and when they land.”

“God,” I huffed, my chin falling onto my chest. “They gotta be here. They can’t miss this!”

“Everyone’s doin’ their best and that’s the only thing they can,” Tess said. “It’s only an hour flight. They’ll be here in time, don’tcha worry.”

My hair had grown past my shoulders during my pregnancy, and it was suffocating me. I lifted my auburn curls off my flushed neck to cool down. Tess watched me for a moment before pulling the elastic band from her hair. A cascade of blonde fell down her back, sun-bleached highlights vibrant even in the low light. Without a word she came ‘round and gathered my frizz into her hands. A few flicks of the wrist and she had my hair up in a damp, poofy bun.

Tess kneaded the back of my neck for a while. I rested against her, letting her work my muscles like dough. Milo kicked, causing a dull ‘thump’ on the doppler.

“Fawn,” Tess broke the silence, “there’s nothin’ wrong with askin’ for pain relief.”

“Don’t want it.”

“Doll, I can tell it’s hurtin’ like hell. You’re hooked up ‘ta stuff that could rocket a foal out’a ‘ya.”

“I’m. Fine.”

“Just ‘cause ‘ya managed before doesn’t mean-.”

“I don’t wanna be stuck in that bed!” I cried. “I don’t wanna lay there like a lame horse ‘til they strap me up in stirrups! I’m NOT doing that again!”

I pulled away, using the bed’s railing to lift myself to my feet. My hand wrapped around to support my lower spine, exposed by the untied loops of my hospital gown. Tess picked up the absorbent pad on the birthing ball, folding it over to hide the bright spot of blood where I’d been sitting. I saw it, but it didn’t scare me – I knew it was from all the swelling. She retrieved the pink water cup from the table and let me drink from its straw.

“I had my baby here, too,” she finally spoke. She sat back down on the bed and smoothed her hand over the starchy sheets. “The beds feel the same.”

“Ravi was born here?” I rocked myself from foot-to-foot, holding onto the railing to keep steady. “I didn’t know that.”

“Four years ago as of January,” Tess said with a nod. “I was in here a few months before ‘ya, ‘shug. Who knows? Maybe they had us in the same room.”

God. Had it been four years already? I had a four-year-old somewhere out there and he had never seen my face. What toys did he like to play with? Did he watch the same preschooler shows that Suri and I watched together? What were his favorite foods? I wanted to know all of that. I wanted to know him! I wanted to know the sound of his voice, the color of his eyes, the texture of his hair . . . or his name.

A scar somewhere in my chest ripped open and I swear I could feel a black void pouring over my ribs like paint. I held my breath. Tears dripped from the tip of my nose and onto my belly. I was in so much pain, but not from labor. My soul was bleeding – the wound as raw as the day it was carved.

In my mind's eye, I saw myself reaching for my son as the doctor held him up. I saw my arms cradling his little naked body against my chest while he took his first breaths. I saw my lips pressing kisses into his bald, wrinkly scalp while my eyes cried phantom tears onto his skin.

None of that had happened at all – but it should have! I should have been given the chance to say goodbye – to look into his eyes and tell him how much I would always love him, even if he couldn’t see me. No, not even that. He should have stayed my baby! I should have gotten pregnant by a different man – a good man. I should have been on the pill instead of relying on his father’s cheap, oversized condoms that were probably expired. I should have fucked up my life less. I should have made a thousand better choices, so he could have stayed my baby!

I screamed along with the frantic beeping of the monitor, but all physical pain paled in comparison to the emotional. I’d cried through my heartbreak once before, but being back in that damn ward, in an identical room, brought all my grief pouring back out. Tears and liquid snot flowed down my face as I white-knuckled the bed’s railing to keep me upright. I gulped full lungs of air, only to wail and scream and sob until they were empty.

I think Tess knew my tears were from deeper down than they seemed. She leaned close and gently took hold of my contracting sides. Her palms rubbed large, soothing circles into my hardened womb. Her sympathetic eyes never left my face.

“Good girl,” she crooned. My eyes were blurry with salt water, but I thought the skin around her eyes looked red. “Scream it all out.”

“I want my baby, Tess!” I cried. “I . . .” my shoulders jerked with a sob, my diaphragm spasming from lack of air. “I n-never got to ho-hold him!” Another hiccup. “H-He’s going to think I . . . think I didn’t w-want him! But I . . . I wanted h-him so much!”

“Hushhh,” Tess shushed me. She wiped my face with the scratchy hospital blanket. “Hush now, doll. Calm ‘yaself down and get some air in.”

“Okay,” I nodded, still choking on sobs and panting for breath. “Okay . . . okay . . .” The awareness of the contraction began creeping into my brain. “Ohh . . . ohh . . . oh, shit!”

Blinded with tears, I threw my arm out to grab onto Tess. I balled her shirt collar in my hand and restarted my “blow the pain out” technique.

Tess continued massaging the sides of my belly, waiting to speak until she felt my muscles start to uncoil. “Are ‘ya sure you don’t want somethin’? I can call the nurse.”

I sniffled and wiped my eyes on my sleeve. Able to see again, I realized I hadn’t been wrong. Tess had been crying. My hand released her shirt, and my arm snaked around her shoulders to pull her into a hug.

“Tess . . . I just want you.”

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

Three-thirty in the morning. We hadn’t heard anything from Ray, and even less from the Gillespies.

A nurse had been in to check me twice in the last hour. Milo was still in his comfy water balloon and that seemed to be cushioning him from the extra-strength contractions. I nearly started crying again when they told me his heart rate was fine and I could continue to labor on my own. With how damaged my cervix was – and how many liters of pitocin they’d given me – I’d been terrified of an emergency C-section.

By then I’d lost the use of my legs, but I refused to stay on the bed for more than a few minutes – usually just long enough to pull my knees back and let a nurse stick her fingers inside me. With the help of an orderly who’d come to swap out my IV bag, Tess had taken the mattress off the bed so I could have something soft to lie down on without feeling trapped.

I’d taken to half-lying on the floor with my arms and upper body resting on the birth ball. I couldn’t keep myself quiet during contractions any longer. Making low, rumbling noises like a cow in a ball gag was a must. It was how I was surviving. Between those moments, I was just tired. It was a relief that I couldn’t feel my cervix anymore, but that was likely because it had effaced. My eyes were heavy and full of grit, but the sixty-something seconds I had between contractions didn’t allow me to sleep.

At that point, I was beyond the mental capacity to worry about Silas and Owen. Milo and Tess were the only other people who existed in the world as transition’s brutal hand crushed me in its fist.

In hindsight, I think that’s why I didn’t panic when the pressure set in.

Tess was kneeling on pillows on the other side of the birthing ball, humming a lullaby to relax me between contractions. Her tune tapered to a halt when I shifted my hips, one leg pulling up to my side. “What’cha need, ‘shug?”

“I feel him.” I stated it like a bland fact.

My eyes were closed, but I felt Tess’s hand touch my shoulder. We’d already decided what we’d do if this happened before the Gillespies arrived.

“Alright, doll. It’s alright,” she crooned. “Lemmie come around.”

I heard the soft ‘pap pap pap’ of Tess’s socks traveling in an arch around me on the faux wood floor. Her weight settled on the mattress by my feet.

“Promise I won’t touch,” she said. “I’m just eyes.”

I grunted and rolled my leg outward to open my hips. Oh, I knew that pressure so well by that point. I knew better than to doubt my body. More pitocin mixed with my blood, drip-by-drip, through the needle in my hand. I wasn’t sure if someone should’ve removed it by then, but whatever. I was gonna use it to my advantage.

The monitor around my belly beeped. I pressed my toes down and pushed before I truly felt the pain. Milo kicked the doppler again, like he realized he was finally being evicted. After a solid ten seconds, I relaxed with a nasally whine.

“He’s coming, Tess.”

“I know, doll.” Tess gently nudged my foot to a more grounded position. “Soon as I see ‘im, I’ll call a nurse. Ain’t no one gonna put ‘ya in that bed, I’ll make sure’a that.”

I scooted up more into a half-squat, one arm draped over the ball and the other wrapping around my knee. Chin-to-chest, I used the rest of the contraction to bear down against the familiar sensation of a baby sliding down my passage. I took frequent breaths between my efforts so I wouldn’t get dizzy, panting a small “Uh . . . Uh . . . Uh” with each exhale.

I didn’t need to throw my all into pushing, the contractions were doing most of the work. Maybe that pitocin was a blessing in disguise – I don’t know if I had the energy to make progress without it. Five pushes in, and I felt my inner walls stretch around the baby. My quiet whines and grunts escalated into growls as the pain grew sharper, and I flowered open wider.

“Damn, he’s huge!” I moaned as I eased off my most recent push. Forget “Bat Bean”, the fucking Chicago Bean was coming out of me!

“Remember, you’re pushin’ out the sac, too,” Tess said.

I hugged my hiked-up leg closer to my side, teeth gnashing in my skull as my face turned purple with effort. “Ugh!” I released a small bark of pain during a brief pause, then spent the rest of the push with a low growl in my chest.

My labia brushed the crease of my thigh, the skin bowing out and preparing to stretch. I felt the inner structure of my clit get crushed as the mass of the baby pressed its way down. It was something I’d felt before in the past during childbirth – but never to the extent that it fired electric shocks of nerve pain down both legs. My toes curled as a ghostly, stabbing pain assaulted the arches of my feet.

I relaxed against the ball with a loud huff of air. “Tess, rub the bottoms of my feet,” I begged, my head falling back against inflated rubber. Thank god she did it without question, I was too embarrassed to explain.

Two contractions later, I was mid-push when a gout of hot water splashed onto the mattress. My focus was broken by the release of pressure, and I leaned forward to peer over my belly. A saw an expanding area of wet sheets between my thighs, darkening the color of the mattress as more amniotic fluid drained from me.

“He’s makin’ his way out, doll!” Tess grabbed the blanket and bunched it up around my rear to soak up some of the mess. “You’re openin’ up!”

“Ahh!” The arm holding my knee in place flew down to pry open my leg, fingers pulling at the skin where my thigh met my groin. My body pushed for me and my perineum thinned out and spread over the head as it dropped past my tailbone.

“Fuck, Tess!” I whined, vocal chords straining. “Fuck, he’s hurting me!”

“Take it slow,” Tess said, patting my thigh. “Let it stretch.”

I arched back against the ball as my lips bulged outward with the size of Milo’s head. The arm draped over the ball was numb, but it was the only thing keeping me upright. The room reverberated with a roar I didn’t realize was mine as I felt that all-too-familiar fire blaze to life. My entire world shrank down to that inferno between my legs. The only thought in my head was to push down into it. My fingertips migrated beneath me, pressing against the hellfire in my perineum as the flesh pulled dangerously tight. I was aware Tess got up from the floor, but I was blind and deaf to the world.

The ringing in my ears muffled the sound of the door bursting open. My eyes flew open in surprise as a gloved hand gently nudged my fingers aside and cupped my perineum. A scrubbed nurse knelt in front of me, a mask covering her face from the nose-down – but even then, her eyes smiled at me.

“Good job, Fawn!” the nurse praised me. “Baby’s crowning. You’re nearly done!”

I flinched when someone else took my leg and hiked it up to my side. It was Tess. I finally understood she must’ve run and got help. I thought I heard a cell phone ringing, but no one else reacted to it. I accepted the fact I was hallucinating.

I threw my arm around Tess’s waist, unaware my fingers were coated in blood, and held tight as I pushed again. I gasped deep and screamed as I felt myself make quick progress once the top of his head breached the air.

“Don’t stop, doll. He’s comin’,” Tess said, her lips brushing my scalp.

Sweat stung my eyes, so I kept them squeezed shut. My whole body trembled, my nerves going haywire as Milo surged forward with a massive, unstoppable push. I felt the little bump of his nose traveling through the pouch of my perineum. The nurse palmed the crown of his head, trying to let me stretch easily over his brow.

A loud slam caused everyone to jump, and the bright light of the hallway sent a migraine through my skull. The nurse turned to scold the two men scrambling into the room, but Tess saved the day:

“They’re the parents!” she cried. “They’re stayin’!”

I couldn’t pay attention to anything going on around me. With a roar of effort, I bore down until I heard the wet little ‘shlip’ of Milo’s head pushing free into the nurse’s hand.

“Owen! Silas! Here, now!” Tess ordered.

I heard two more bodies thump to the ground beside the floor bed.

“We’re so sorry, Fawn!” I heard a familiar voice yell – a voice that belonged to a man I’d only ever heard through the static of a screen.

“Later, Owen!” Tess snapped. “Focus on your baby right now! Do not miss this!”

I didn’t care about anything – I knew this baby was on his way out right then and there! Nothing else in my mind or body would function until he’d made his journey earth-side! I clung to Tess, who pressed my leg back wider as Milo’s thick shoulders started to press out of me.

“Push, doll. Push on ‘im hard,” she encouraged me softly, her voice like warm honey.

The nurse began pulling down on the baby, forcing his shoulder to pry my public bone out of place to come through. I don’t quite know what the sound I made was, but it didn’t sound human. The nurse pulled upward, and . . .

“And we have a baby!” the nurse cheered as Milo’s body gushed out onto the mattress. A small trickle of leftover fluid followed his feet.

“Holy shit.“ My whole body relaxed as soon as that relief came.

My eyelids slid open when I heard that little guy make the sweetest newborn cries I’d ever heard. For a big baby, he had a small voice. Thin, blonde baby down was plastered to his scalp, and even while he was all squished and blotchy I could tell he looked like Owen.

“Oh, look how sweet!” the nurse sing-songed while she toweled Milo dry. “Isn’t he a perfect little man?”

A second nurse mysteriously appeared in the background. I peeked around Tess and saw the extra nurse fanning Silas with a laminated paper while he sat slumped against the wall, looking dazed. Owen kept looking at his husband over his shoulder, but his attention was constantly pulled back to his son.

“Oh . . . hey, guys.” I sleepily waved to the fathers. “When did you get here?”

Owen glanced back at Silas, who was rubbing his forehead and seemed to be coming around. “Just in time.”

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

I flipped through the pictures in my phone while I rode home with Tess. Milo and I had stayed in the hospital for a few days for observation. I’d needed a few internal stitches (wow, real shocker there) and they just wanted to keep an eye on Milo because of his troublesome gestation. At first, there was a little bit of concern because of how lethargic he was – but his bloodwork was fine, so I guess he was just a sleepy lad. He wasn’t awake in any of the pictures the Gillespies and I had taken.

There were countless photos of Milo being snuggled by all of us. Ray and Suri had popped in to see me the morning after I gave birth – mostly for Suri’s sake, she’d woken up crying over not being able to find me at home. I had a picture from that morning of Tess holding Milo in the room’s armchair while Ray held Suri up so she could see what my “belly buddy” looked like. Suri somehow looked confused, disgusted and amazed all at once. My favorite picture was the one Tess had taken of me and the family together. I was sitting up in bed and holding Milo while Silas and Owen sat on either side of me. All of us – except Milo, who was asleep with a binky in his mouth – were smiling wide at the camera.

One of the first pictures in my album was of Milo swaddled like a burrito a few hours after he was born, fast asleep in the baby cot beside my bed. His name, weight and time of birth were written on a card taped above his head. Beside that card was the paper cutout of a purple butterfly.

In Silas’s first picture with his miracle baby, he was pale as death but still smiling. He’d needed to sit down for a while after passing out, but he’d held his little boy nearly every minute in that chair. He’d held Milo while they performed his medical tests, only allowing the nurses to take him away for his first bath. In the picture I’d taken after that, Silas was gazing at Milo with all the love in his eyes that a father could give – and Milo was wrapped in a fresh blanket with an embroidered purple butterfly on the corner. The Gillespies had brought that blanket with them.

At first I’d thought the purple butterfly cutout was just a decoration choice the hospital had made; but when Milo’s first gift from his parents had the same image, I’d asked why it was showing up so often. Turns out, that hospital had adopted The Purple Butterfly Project – an initiative that offered support for patients who had lost a child in a set of multiples. The cutout on Milo’s cot was meant to celebrate the life of his “flown-away” twin, as well as make staff members and visitors aware that he was the wingless half of a pair. It took on the burden of explanation, so Silas and Owen could bond with their son without worry.

My phone buzzed with a new message from my clients. It was a selfie Owen had taken of himself and Silas at the airport, with Milo snug in a sling around Silas’s chest. The picture came with the message: “Thank you for blessing us so deeply! We hope the joy you’ve given us will be repaid – with interest! Milo is going to be showered with love every day of his life. You’re more than welcome to keep in touch with our family, Fawn. We’re happy to let you watch Milo grow up with us. Love, Owen and Silas.”

I locked my phone and sat it face-down in my lap. “Hey, Tess?” I asked, watching the road unfurl beyond the windshield as we traveled the rural roads. “When will it be my turn?”

Tess glanced at me. “For what?”

“Being happy,” I deadpanned. “I’ve made three different families happy. You and Ray, the Gillespies . . . and my son’s parents. I just wanna know when my turn is.”

The rest of the car ride passed in total silence. When we parked in front of the farmhouse, Tess turned to look at me while she unbuckled her seatbelt.

“Doll, there’s somethin’ I want ‘ya ‘ta see.”

Going upstairs was a herculean task with how stiff and full-body sore I was, but Tess held my hand and walked with me step-by-step. She brought me into the master bedroom and sat me down on her side of the bed. Tess opened her bedside drawer and pulled out a wooden box that was roughly the size of a checkerboard. She plopped down beside me and stared at the box in her lap for a moment before saying:

“I haven’t opened this since we brought it home. I couldn’t. But . . . I think now’s the time.”

I watched as Tess lifted the lid of the box, revealing a carefully folded fleece blanket with pastel stars printed on it.

“What is it?” I asked.

Tess lovingly took the small blanket in her hands and began unfolding it. Beneath the layers of fabric was a blue crystalline teddy bear sculpture holding a silver heart between its paws. Tess picked up the bear and held it in her palm – that’s how small it was.

“This is Ravi,” she said.

Once light hit the silver heart at a different angle, I saw the engraving on it: “Ravi Idris Tariq”, with a single date underneath. Tess turned the bear over in her hands so I could see the second engraving on its back: “I carried you every second of your life.”

“I wrapped ‘im in his blanket,” Tess said, her thumb stroking the bear urn’s head. “It made it feel more like I was puttin’ him down ‘ta sleep instead’a . . . y’know.”

I was too stunned to speak.

Tess set the baby blanket in the box and – tiny urn still in-hand – got up and walked to her closet. A quick rummage, and she returned with a different fleece blanket. This one was pastel rainbow colored and was covered in white stars, an inverse of the other.

“These came as a set,” Tess said. “We donated everythin’ he never got to use, except for this. This one’s special.” She rubbed the blanket on her cheek. “I prayed over this one. I asked Mother Gaia ‘ta allow my baby’s spirit ‘ta be linked to this earthly object, so that I could hold it and it would be the same as holdin’ him.”

Tess re-joined me on the side of the bed, clutching Ravi’s urn to her heart while she cuddled and kissed the rainbow blanket. “I still miss ‘im. I miss ‘im a lot,” she said. “Having this connection to him helps.”

After a minute, Tess set both blankets and the urn inside the wooden box. Then, she took my hands into her own.

“Neither of us got ‘ta hold our little boys,” she said. “Mine was already in the arms of Mother Gaia, and yours was in the arms of his mama before you had the chance. That’s what’cha told us, right?”

I nodded, silent and enraptured. Tess smiled at me.

“Well, when you’re feelin’ more ‘yaself, I’ll teach ‘ya how to use my sewin’ machine,” she said, giving my hands a gentle squeeze. “You’ll pick out the fabric and you’ll make a baby blanket. That’ll be his baby blanket, ain’t no one else’s. I’ll ask Mother Gaia ‘ta bless it for ‘ya. When you feel all that love buildin’ up with nowhere to go, hold it. Hold your baby. He’ll be able to feel it, no matter where he is.”

I returned her smile, but my throat was almost too tight for me to speak. “I’d like that.”

We made a small shrine for Ravi’s urn on the mantle that night. Ray and Tess had Suri help set it up, explaining the existence of her elder brother to her in a way she would understand:

“Mama had a baby in her belly just like Fawn did,” Ray said, lifting Suri up so she could drop a few cut flowers from the garden beside the tiny blue bear. “That was before you were born. You were just a twinkle in Mama’s eye back then.”

“Where the baby?” Suri asked as her father plopped her back down.

“This is the baby,” Tess said, tapping on the silver heart between the bear’s paws. “He had ‘ta go back ‘ta Mother Gaia while he was still in my belly. This is where his body sleeps.”

I lit a few jarred candles and placed them on the mantle. From my back pocket, I pulled out the laminated purple butterfly cutout that had been taped to Milo’ cot at the hospital. I placed it upright against the mantle wall, so that two purple wings appeared to be sprouting from Ravi’s bear.

It wasn’t my turn to be happy, yet. I had a long way to go before I could start making my own dreams come true. Maybe school could wait a while. Maybe the money I’d earned throughout my surrogacy could be put to better use.

Maybe I was sick of staying on the path my own stupid choices had led me down. Maybe it was time I started making the choices I’d wished I’d made earlier.

I was tired of living in the shadow of grief Alexander had cast over my life. I’d lost everything because of him . . .

. . . but I was ready to start taking it back.

~ END ~

#Fawn Drabbles #birth kink #labor kink #mittysins #RP Drabble

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wheels-of-despair · 1 year ago

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Always Worth It | Ralph Penbury x You | Series Masterlist

I Ralph You Summary: Ralph learns a hip new word he's not too fond of. His lovely wife must act fast and help him un-learn it. Words: 800ish

It was a peaceful night.

There was a slight nip in the air on your evening walk, which made the hot tea and cakes waiting for you upon your return even better. You and Ralph enjoyed your refreshments, then decided that a warm bath would be the perfect end to a perfect autumn day.

After your bath - together, of course, to save both time and water - you'd dried off and put on clean pajamas. The pair of you raced to the library, eager to read another chapter in a novel you'd purchased the week before. It was tempting to keep going each night, but you forced yourselves to take it slow and discuss each chapter together.

You're not sure which one of you enjoyed this more.

Ralph had fascinating insights on absolutely everything, and even after almost a year together, he still couldn't get over the fact that someone wanted to hear them. You could listen to him read a telephone directory, to be honest, but that would be a tragic waste of his creative mind. Your husband was brilliant, and one day, you hoped he'd grow confident enough to acknowledge it.

Which brings us back to that perfect autumn evening; it was peaceful and cozy and full of warm snuggles with the person you loved most in your lovely London home.

Until the telephone rang.

Ralph marked his place in the book he'd been reading aloud - you alternated chapters each night - and handed it to you. He sighed, removed the blanket you'd been sharing from his lap, and reluctantly trudged toward the telephone.

"Hello?"

"RALPH? CAN YOU HEAR ME?" Ralph scrunched up his nose and held the earpiece at a distance. "IT'S VICTORIA! I'M AT A PARTY IN MANCHESTER!"

You could hear every word from your place by the fire, and the party going on in the background as well. You folded your arms on the back of the sofa and rested your chin on them, looking to your husband in amusement.

"Yes, Victoria, I can hear you," he said into the mouthpiece.

"I'VE JUST HEARD THE MOST FABULOUS NEW WORD, AND I HAD TO TELL YOU IMMEDIATELY!"

"What is it, Victoria?" he sighs, giving you a tired look.

"MINNIE SAID HER BOY TOY RALPHED IN THE SHRUBS BECAUSE HE'D HAD TOO MUCH GIGGLE WATER! ISN'T THAT HILARIOUS?"

Ralph furrowed his brow and stared at the telephone in concentration. "She said what?"

"HE RALPHED! IT'S A JAZZY NEW TERM FOR UPCHUCKING! SPEWING! VOMITING! ISN'T THAT HILARIOUS? RALPHING!"

Victoria's shrill laugh filled the room, sending a chill up your spine and ruining the warm and cozy atmosphere. Ralph's face fell.

"Yes, Victoria," he droned.

"DON'T SOUND SO GRUMMY, RALPH!" The people in the background began to cheer, and you could almost see Victoria losing interest in her telephone call. "MUST DASH, IT'S TIME TO GET ZOZZLED! TA-TA!"

The line goes silent, and Ralph hangs up. He turns to you with a look of defeat, and slowly returns to the sofa. He collapses onto the cushions with a sigh, leaning back against the arm to face you. The expression on his face makes your heart sink.

You're going to get Victoria for this.

You place the book on a side table and wiggle your way to him. He holds out an arm, and you slide under it, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

"Do you ever get the sneaking suspicion that perhaps she's making up all of these ridiculous words as she goes? I bet she'll forget half of the nonsense she spouted tonight by tomorrow morning."

Ralph sighs.

"I think we should make up our own words."

You wait a beat, to see if he takes the bait.

"Like what?"

You smile and raise your head to look into his beautiful, wounded eyes. You hate that he still lets Victoria get to him. Luckily, it doesn't take much to fix him, and you plan on always being here to do it.

"I think we'll start by reclaiming Ralph. Do you want to know what Ralph means to me?"

He nods, his big brown eyes shifting from gloomy to curious.

"It now means to love entirely, with one's whole heart and soul."

Ralph smiles the tiniest of smiles.

"Do you approve of this change, Mr. Penbury?"

He thinks for a moment. You can see his spirits rise as his smile widens. "Absolutely," he finally says with a toothy grin.

You go in for a soft, sweet kiss.

"I Ralph you," you whisper against his lips.

Ralph freezes for a moment, and then bursts into a fit of giggles. Your heart soars at the sound and the feeling of his body shaking, and you begin peppering kisses all over his face between words and giggles of your own. "I Ralph you. I Ralph you. I really, really Ralph you."

#writings of despair #ralph is worth it #ralph penbury #ralph penbury x you #ralph penbury x reader #ralph timewasters #ralph timewasters x reader #i looked up 20s slang for the halloween fic (coming this weekend!) and then... this was born.

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unicyclehippo · 1 year ago

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as someone who is also in fever recovery, i send a wish that you feel better and the word: acumen

thank you, feverish friend, i love you i hope you are feeling well <3 this is for you

high on the hill where the crows do not fly stands a house and a family that cannot die.

'uh - mister pock o'pea?'

there was a man at the door. barely. a young man, an intern in an ill-fitting suit and his first tie, talking to chetney even though he had made it perfectly clear he wasn't to be disturbed or interrupted in his goddamn wallowing. jesus fucking christ. a decade of work gone down the drain.

'what.'

'you got a call. from her.'

chetney didn't lift his head from his stack of files. they smelled of dense paper and ink and stale coffee. it was a scent that had always reassured him; it was the scent of industry, of hard work, of forms and files in triplicate and a paper trail being chased down but now it was just... nothing.

'what the fuck are you talking about?' he sighed. 'listen, if this is about the case, you can tell whoever it is - world news, i bet, they've been up our ass for weeks - tell them that it's over, alright? it's over. we're done.'

'no, sir - it's not a reporter. it's her. briarwood.'

chetney's head snapped up. 'delilah?'

'laudna.'

'laudna,' he repeated, turning the name over in his mouth. he hadn't had many dealings with the woman but those he had, chetney had walked away with a sour taste on his tongue. defeat, always, but also a horrid sinking gut feeling--for himself, for the world, and a little bit for her, too--that she was her parent's daughter through and through. for as bright as she was, there was nothing new in her--she was a creature of her father's design, dressed in her mother's striking fashion and features (and disdain). but this? this was new. 'what did she want?'

'to talk. said she wanted to tell you everything--confess, she said.'

'what?'

'i know. gave us a weird address too.'

'did she say what she wanted in return?'

'no, sir. just that chetney pock o'pea come see her at this address, as soon as possible, and she'd confess.'

chetney smiled wryly. 'does that sound like a trap to you?' he asked, even as he stood and grabbed his coat. at the intern's dumbfounded look, his smile widened. 'call me curious,' he shrugged. 'i've spent half my life chasing this family. ten years i've on this case alone--so if the heir to the throne wants to talk to me...i want to hear what she has to say. oh - but if you don't hear from me by, say, six tomorrow morning...'

'we'll send someone after you.'

'i was going to say look for my body off the coastline because that's plenty of time for the grim ripper to do whatever she wants with me.'

'uh.'

'lighten up, kid. it's a fucking joke.' chetney swung his office door closed, locked it. 'mostly.'

the taxi dropped him at the end of the street, refusing to take him any further.

chetney pock o'pea trudged up the hill through a cold mist until he came to a small house--even by today's cramped standards. the pavement leading up to it was cracked. tough weeds had shoved up through the concrete and died. trees had grown in the garden just long enough for their bark to twist into unsettling grimaces and the branches to hang, leafless and menacing. the house itself was old and horrid. it sagged like an ancient pumpkin, insides all rotted away to soft fluff. the stairs did not creak beneath his feet as he climbed onto the porch; instead, they squished, black water seeping out and dripping down into the dead grass.

chetney knocked. there was no answer. he tested the knob - unlocked - and pushed the door open, coughing into the dust that billowed up the instant he did so. it tasted like a billion health code violations.

'hello?'

for a long moment, silence.

chetney stood at the door, tensed, waiting to be attacked. he had his doubts that the woman was even here--why would the heiress step foot into this place, rundown as it was? but he couldn't deny the evidence in front of his eyes. clear as anything - a set of footprints leading deeper into the house, marked distinct against the dust that blanketed every surface.

'hello?' he called again.

the house wasn't large. four rooms, five at a stretch. he could see from his place in the hallway a sitting room directly ahead of him--a low fire crackled but it lent no heat to the chilled space--and there was a kitchen to his left. the door to his right was closed.

a figure moved in the sitting room, standing out of a low chair. it moved away from the firelight, disappearing out of sight. chetney inched backward to the front door - and then laudna briarwood stepped into view, framed by the doorway. her face in deepest shadow as the firelight flickered.

'mister pock o'pea,' she said, and with a tilt of her head the light found her and her welcoming smile and there was nothing unsettling about her at all but chetney still felt every alarm in his system go off. 'i wasn't sure you'd come.'

'yes, you were.'

her smile grew. 'i hoped you would. you've proved yourself remarkably dogged, chasing down my family's dirty laundry, turning over every stone in our path.'

'yeah, well, no point in it anymore. my case is dead. oh relax - i didn't mean it like that, don't look at me like that. just meant the judge's basically come down on your side already, what with the deaths and all. even before all that. was he in your pocket all along?'

'i'm sure i don't know.'

'right. like it wasn't the first thing the grim ripper did when you found out who'd be presiding.'

laudna shook her head. 'perhaps she did. it certainly sounds like her, is certainly within her capabilities. but i truly cannot say for sure - and that isn't why i asked you here.'

'right. you're confessing,' chetney said, and wandered forward into the house. 'boy, i sure would love that. one of you lot on record for something. a dream come fucking true.'

'what a way with words you have, mister pock o'pea.'

'agent.'

'agent,' she amended, and smiled like he was foolish to be concerned with such things. 'well. a dream come true, then. come in, take a seat. can i pour you a drink?'

'no. thanks.'

she led him into the sitting room and gestured for him to take a seat on the couch. he sat. the fabric was cold, a chill beyond the weather. a chill like no one had sat there in a decade. and the house was so small. maybe it was the dust, but he felt like the light of the fire didn't reach as far as it ought to, didn't burn as bright. the air felt heavy, the way it always did before a storm. chetney rubbed his nose. watched as laudna briarwood crossed to a drink cart and plucked a bottle of wine out of the mix. it was old. looked fancy enough. he was sure it was worth millions.

'i'm sure you think i've lured you here with nefarious intentions,' she said, perfectly conversational. 'i don't know how reassuring this might be but please, let me assure you that my motives regarding you are far from nefarious. i am truly glad you came, agent.'

'yeah, well, when the daughter of the most powerful man in the world invites you to a secret location, promising you everything you ever wanted...'

'you turn up with a tape recorder and hope for the best?' his hand twitched for his pocket. 'do relax, agent, i'm not upset. i have the highest regard for you and that would only have been diminished if you hadn't brought something. i enjoy your dedication to the classics, as well. a phone simply isn't the same as a tape recorder. ah - and you can keep it running, if you like. if you need my permission. i'm not sure what you can do with the recording afterwards but i won't stop you.' she poured as much of the wine into her glass as would fit. then, she set the bottle down and, eyeing him thoughtfully, poured a second drink. scotch. a generous three fingers into a crystal glass. she brought it over to him, holding it out between spindly fingers until he took it. 'i'm not, by the way.'

'not what?'

chetney searched for a place to set his glass. no way he was going to drink it - she'd probably poisoned it.

'his daughter.'

chetney froze. in all his years following the family, learning their every secret, was it possible he had missed one as big as that?

'please, don't strain. it's not worth it. i'm going to explain - i'll tell you everything, in fact, everything that happened. every shady deal, every blood-soaked contract, every death on our conscience.'

laudna took her seat opposite him, on a red cushioned armchair. it was deep and soft and obviously hers, for she was wonderfully comfortable in it, resting her glass on the arm of it and tucking her feet up onto the seat beneath her. she regarded him for a moment.

chetney looked right back.

her hair was down. he'd never seen her with her hair down, without the severe bun that she and delilah both favoured. without it, she didn't look all that much like her.

laudna swirled the drink in her hand. the liquid in it was dark, a red so deep it was almost purple.

'lets start this properly, shall we?'

'yeah.' chetney dug the recorder from his pocket and set it onto the side table, microphone directed toward her. it would pick him up clear enough just by virtue of closeness and he didn't want it to drop one word of her confession. 'agent chetney pock o'pea, here with laudna briarwood, who has consented to being recorded. would you state that again for the record?'

laudna smiled. she leaned forward ever so slightly and, in a crisp voice, announced, 'i am laudna briarwood and i have consented to agent pock o'pea recording our conversation.'

'the date is october thirty-first, twenty twenty-three. the time is -' chetney twisted his wrist. '- eleven twenty-three p.m. okay, miss briarwood. take it away.'

'thank you, agent. i suggest you get comfortable - this may be a rather long story. like i said, it is my confession. our confession, if you like. i'm sure i shall reveal enough that you may find my whole family guilty of everything that you accused us of, and yet more besides that. we are rather lacking in people to prosecute now, however. what with all the deaths and all, as you so succinctly put it.' laudna raised her glass and drank. savoured. a drop of red clung to her bottom lip. she pressed her thumb to it and swept it away. 'forgive me for delaying. if i'm being honest, i'm not entirely sure where to begin.'

chetney inched forward, elbows propped on his knees. the taste of the hunt was back in his mouth. 'why not the beginning? that day in the courthouse.'

she laughed. 'that was far from the beginning, agent pock o'pea. but,' she inclined her head, 'as good a place to start as any. very well. it all began that morning, when the briarwood family gathered to attend the first day of our trial. the case you brought against us. the case you brought against Whitestone.'

high on the hill where the crows do not fly stands a house and a family that cannot die. they traded much for power, glory, and gold but the price comes due for what must never be sold.

#tagging my stories #prompt fill #cr fic #a BRIEF flirtation with the fall of the house of usher

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monkeerotica · 20 days ago

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peter pisses himself (in a rather unsexy way tbh). but its ok because then mike takes care of him. hehehehehehehe

Poor Peter... but it all ends up all right in the end, doesn't it? Thanks for the prompt! Enjoy! -Author 🪐

quiet on set

During rough days on set, Peter would sometimes sit in a corner and sulk until he had gotten over whatever had upset him. On the worst days, he needed a whole room to himself in order to calm down – this was one of those days. He’d been hidden away in one of the unused costume rooms for what felt like hours, first pacing anxiously, then sitting, then laying down and finding shapes in the shabby ceiling as he stared up at it. He hadn’t meant to stay so long, however long it had been; he’d forgotten his watch. When the door creaked open, he held his breath and swung his head around to look. Mike poked his head in; Peter exhaled.

“Pete?” Mike called. “Aw, come on. Where’s that–”

“I’m here, Mike.” Peter jumped to his feet, swayed a little as everything caught up to him. He’d been laying down for a while and the sudden movement had made him a little dizzy. He realized also that his next stop ought to be the washroom, and quick, before they dragged him back onto set.

“Oh, swell.” It was too dim to see, but Mike sounded like he’d just rolled his eyes. “Well I’ve just had a grand tour of the place. Every last nook and cranny, looking for you.”

“I’m sorry.” Peter stepped towards the door.

“Boy, there’re some great hiding spots ‘round here. Bet you’ve just about found ‘em all, haven’t you?”

“Don’t be cruel, Mike.” Peter exited the room, and waited for Mike to follow before shutting the door behind them. “You know how it gets.”

Mike sighed. “Yeah, but you sure kept us waiting.” He gave Peter a stilted pat on the back. “All right now?”

“Yeah.” Peter put on a smile as they started walking back to the set. “Just about. Soon as I hit the–”

He stuck a hand out to stop Mike from going any further. Up ahead, right between them and the washrooms, was the set of the Pad, Interior, where they’d been filming that day. Above the fake staircase was one of the lights that pulsed red while the camera was rolling – as it was now. There was no leniency for wasted reels on set: if that light was on and you weren’t in front of the camera, you had better be as still and silent as death.

“Shit,” Mike said through his teeth - they were far enough away to whisper, maybe, but there was no hope of moving closer. “Guess we camp out here awhile.”

“Mike,” Peter said softly, hesitantly. “Who’s on set? I, ah– well, if I walk fast, I might just about make it, if you know what I mean?”

Mike gave him a puzzled look – no, I don’t. “Micky. What do you–”

“Fuck,” Peter swore. “Damn it. He goes on for ages. Kid’s a walking script. I don’t think I’m–”

“Shush–” Mike raised a finger. “You’ve waited this long, can’t you wait a while longer?”

Peter shook his head quickly. “No, I can’t. I’m sorry, I’ll just have to creep around the back and–”

Mike grabbed his wrist. “Don’t you dare, Peter,” he hissed. “We are this close to getting in big trouble–”

“I’m serious, Mike, let me go.” Peter wrestled free of Mike’s grasp, only to have it replaced with his other hand.

“Piss in one of the dressing rooms, they’ll never know.”

“I’ll know.” Peter jerked himself away, but Mike was right there again, grabbing at his arms. They grappled as silently as possible, moccasins squeaking softly on the linoleum. When Peter finally got a hand free again and began to curl it into a fist, Mike let go and raised his hands in defeat.

“Jesus, fine.” he panted. “It’s your job on the line.”

“Yeah, and–” Peter froze and paled. He dropped a hand down to grab at himself, but it was too late – one leg of his gray trousers had a dark stripe down the inner thigh that was growing every second, trailing down until it had reached his ankle. “Fuck!”

Mike’s eyes went wide as he stared. He blinked suddenly, looked away as if to be polite, then looked back. “Why didn’t you tell me you were gonna–”

“I did!” Peter snapped.

Mike grimaced, quickly looking towards the set– they were just obscured enough to be out of sight, and no one should be coming this way anytime soon. “Well, I didn’t think you meant it… Here–” he undid the top button of his shirt and made for the second one. “Don’t have a towel, but you can–”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mike, then we’ll both look stupid.” Peter shifted his weight between both feet, still frozen in place, unsure of what to do.

“Alright, fine.” Mike paused for a moment, then reached out to grab Peter’s wrist once more– much gentler this time. “Come with me.”

He headed back towards the empty dressing rooms, stepping lightly with Peter in tow. He checked a few rooms, and finally decided on one that had costume racks lined up against the wall.

Mike ushered Peter inside and shut the door behind them. “Strip,” he said.

“Gee, Mike, I don’t know if I’m in the mood.” Peter cracked a half-hearted grin as his hands went to his belt buckle.

“Just for that I’m gonna put you in a skirt.” Mike began shuffling through the costumes, looking for something that vaguely matched their TV outfits, or at least the genre.

Peter loosed his belt from the belt loops, then kicked his shoes and pants off. He unbuttoned his shirt, slipped his undershirt off, then buttoned himself back up. The undershirt he folded into a little square and spat on a few times before rubbing down his leg. He did all of this without looking up at Mike– he was burning with shame and didn’t want to know if Mike was looking.

Mike was looking – although he wasn’t getting any sort of kick out of it. Mostly, he felt bad about the fact that he couldn’t do much more to help, especially when it was partly his fault; something small and twisted sparked deep inside of him, something that made him want to get a lot more hands on with his helping, but he pushed the feeling aside and focused on rummaging through the clothes instead. Thankfully, it seemed like whoever had used this dressing room last had at least been styled in the same century as them, so there was plenty to choose from. He held up a pair of trousers that looked ugly enough to even be from Peter’s own closet.

“Here, shotgun.” Mike crossed the room and tossed the pants over the last few feet.

Peter caught them and dipped his head gratefully. He slipped them on, used his belt to cinch the waist down to his size, and shrugged. “Not bad. What do I do with these?” He kicked at the pile of discarded clothing disdainfully.

“Hell, I don’t know.” Mike wrinkled his nose. “Stuff ‘em in a rack somewhere. Bet they won’t be the first pair like it.”

Peter cringed. “I’d rather not, all the same.”

“Fine, leave it here then and we’ll come back on our way out tonight.” Mike opened the door and gestured for Peter to exit first.

“Yeah, okay.” Peter finished tying his shoes and stood, then paused in the doorway. “Hey, you know– thanks, and all. For your discretion?”

Mike shrugged. “Happens to us all, man. I was four, once.”

Peter frowned and shoved him. Mike laughed– then clapped a hand over his mouth. They both turned towards to check for the filming light.

“We’re clear!” Peter let out a sigh of relief.

There were sounds of life coming from set, too, and they made their way to join the group again with as much nonchalance as possible, though Peter made a beeline straight through to the washrooms, brushing off friendly words from a few members of the cast and crew.

Davy came up to Mike and tapped his arm, then pointed in Peter’s direction. “What’s gotten into him today? He looks pissed.”

Mike snorted out a laugh so hard he choked on it, and doubled over coughing.

Davy furrowed his brow and looked around, hoping for context. “What’d I say?”

#mike nesmith #peter tork #omorashi #filled prompts #🪐#torksmith

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imjustforthefandoms · 1 month ago

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TWSTOBER DAY 8: RUGGIE BUCCHI

Ruggie was never one to turn down a quick madol. Whether it was odd jobs around the school, or running errands for Leona, he wouldn't bat an eye if money or food was involved. It didn't take him long to get in on Oswald's gambling games. Always something new, like downing a bottle of water the quickest, or how many students passed a test. But if the odds were in his favor, Ruggie was the first one to place a bet. When lunch rolled around, Ruggie sat down right in front of the silver haired boy, who was twirling his dice between his fingers.

“Well well back again, are you?” Oswald said, looking at Ruggie with a smirk. Ruggie looked at Oswald with a smile.

“You know it. What's in store today?” Ruggie replied, taking a bite of his sandwich. Oswald let out a soft hum.

“I'll admit, I've never known someone to love the game as much as I do. Why you enjoy it so much?” Ruggie let out a soft chuckle.

“Shyeheheh. I just like the game is all. It's fun to place bets.” And it was fun to win them too. Oswald looked at him with a smile, pulling out his lucky dice and a single madol.

“Well let's get to playing. We'll start simple. Evens or odds?”

“My money's on odds.” Ruggie replied as he pulled out a madol and set it on the counter. Oswald looked at him with a smirk, before tossing his dice upwards, the resin encased beetles spinning in the air before falling back to the table with a soft clack. 3 and 5 for an 8.

“Ooh, looks like the dice are in my favorite today, bud.” Oswald chimed, pulling the madol to his side of the table. Ruggie let out a soft “tch”, but kept the smile on his face.

“Aw, I'll win the next one. How's about highs and lows this time?” He held out his hand for the dice. Oswald looked at him with a soft smile, before placing one of the dice into Ruggie’s hand.

"Alright, call it double or nothing” The both of them put another Madol on the table before rolling the die in their other hand.

“I'll call lower.” The dice left their hands. Oswald got a 3, Ruggie with a snake eye.

“And that's a win for me.” Ruggie boasted, sliding the coins over to his side. Oswald put his hand up in defeat.

"Fair is fair ain't it?” Oswald looked at Ruggie with a smirk. “But our games ain't over yet are they? I know you like to play for big wins.” Ruggie met his smirk with his own.

“If you know that, what are you offering?” Ruggie replied, his eyes locked onto the man before he spoke.

“I've gotta bag in my pocket. At least 30 Madol. Im willing to bet everything in that bag on one bet.” Ruggie's eyes went wide. Thirty Madol?! That was a pretty steep price. Which means whatever Oswald had in store was risky.

“Depends, let me see the bag first.” Ruggie replied. Oswald reached in his pocket, pulling out a small leather bag before tossing it towards Ruggie. He caught it in his hand, rolling the bag between his fingers. He could definitely feel the coins under the fabric. He hums softly before dropping the bag on the table. “Alright, what's the game?”

“I've got a beetle hidden in the school. A real big one. I've even made it a nice shade of gold so it stands out. All you gotta do is nab it and bring it back to me. You've got till the end of the day.” Oswald explained, a smirk on his lips as he spoke. Ruggie listened intensely. A finding game. He was good at that. And even better at stealing. It sounded too easy to be true.

“Any catches or rules?” Ruggie asked, drumming his fingers against the table.

“Only one. You can't tell anyone else about this bet. Just get the beetle back to me. It won't run from you. And I won't avoid you.”Oswald said, holding out his hand to Ruggie as he sat there in thought. It seems easy. Too easy. But with that much Madol on the table…

“Alright. You got a deal.” He takes Oswald's hand in his own. Oswald let out a chuckle as he shook Ruggie's hands.“A roll of the dice! Get the beetle back to me, and in your hands my Madol shall be!” Ruggie could feel the magic in his hands. Oswald’s unique magic. Now he certainly couldn't back outta this bet, else his pockets were forfeit. As he pulled his hand away from Oswald he stood up from the table, a smirk on his lips.

“Let the game begin”

#twisted wonderland #twstober #ruggie bucchi #twst oc #Oswald Boogie

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karmas-chameleon · 3 months ago

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A story in which my S/I and Manfred watch a horror movie and he's so brave and not terrified at all

It was a Saturday night, and I'd settled in with Manfred to watch a movie. A romantic movie, of sorts - the movie itself was a horror flick, a genre I barely touched, but I hoped it would give me the opportunity to cuddle up to my boyfriend during the scary moments. I'd never watched much horror, and certainly never had the chance to cuddle anyone during a movie before, so I wanted to finally experience that feeling of terror and adrenaline next to a warm, protective body.

We had everything set up: the two of us on the couch next to each other, no light in the room save the little that came from Manfred's giant TV. I had picked out a movie according to its ranking on some review site, which assured me this was the best of the best.

The problem came nearly an hour into the film, when I realized that I didn't like horror movies. It wasn't because I was too frightened to watch - far from it - but because I wasn't scared enough. Perhaps I was too desensitized for it, perhaps I'd simply picked the wrong movie, but I couldn't bring myself to feel real fright. It was as though my brain wanted to protect me from harm, and at every moment that suggested tension or dread, it would whisper, “Why are you scared? It's only a silly story.” Just like that, I'd be pulled out of my immersion and forget why I'd ever be invested in these random characters and their near-suicidal decisions.

It didn't help that the plot felt predictable, even to someone who'd never seen a horror movie in their life. In ten minutes I'd started mentally making bets on who would survive to the end, and by thirty, I'd won a good number of them. Halfway through, I was ready to give up and either watch something else or just go to bed.

It wasn't as though Manfred seemed particularly interested either. His silhouette had barely moved the entire time, only flinching during sudden jumpscares. I did as well, out of shock, but that hardly counted as a real scare.

During a quiet moment in which tension was supposedly being built, I leaned over to him and whispered, “I’m bored.”

He nearly leapt off the couch. I stared at him, my mouth already open to apologize, when the sound of a scream erupted from the speakers and the room flashed with light. In the instant Manfred was clearly visible, I saw his expression as he winced. ‘Invested in the story' wasn't even close.

I grabbed the remote and hit pause before turning back to my boyfriend with a concerned look that he likely couldn't see in the dark. “Are you alright, Manfred?”

“F-fine,” he said quietly. “Yes. I'm fine.”

“You don't sound fine.” I placed a hand on his shoulder which quickly turned into me wrapping my arm around him as he practically fell onto me. “C'mon, we can turn the lights back on and watch something else. I'm not even interested in this movie anyway.”

“No.”

“Wh-what do you mean, ‘no’? Manny, you-”

“I'm not a coward, nor a child. I won't be defeated by some foolish film.”

I frowned. His voice sounded considerably more confident, but his position, head against my shoulder and body hunched under my arm, didn't exactly scream ‘bravery’. It was the spot I thought I'd be in at this point, but with my body being so small, I doubted I felt like the ideal protector. Still, he was stuck to me like glue. Maybe I was keeping him safe.

I reached for the remote with my free hand. “Alright, we can keep watching, but you tell me if it's too much, okay?”

After unpausing, I reached back to my boyfriend and pulled his hand toward me. He was snuggled close as could be, with one of my arms around his shoulders and the other squeezing his hand.

“Too much,” he scoffed. “Please. As if this ridiculous ghost story could scare anyone older than a toddler.”

“You don't believe in ghosts?”

“Do you?”

“No, not really.”

Though I could appreciate the quality of the computer generated spirits that popped up on screen for scares (the good CGI was one of the only positives of this film), they weren't anything I could imagine existing in real life. Even if they were invisible, the idea just didn't seem realistic to me. Maybe that was what kept me from being frightened.

As the ghost made another appearance stalking a particularly thoughtless character, I felt my hand being squeezed back.

“I don't think I could bring myself to believe in them either,” Manfred said quietly. “It simply isn't logical. If spirits could truly come back from the dead to seek vengeance on those who wronged them, as this movie depicts, I'd be out of a job.”

“Y'know, that's a good point. I think if I was murdered and turned into a ghost, going after the killer is probably the first thing I'd do.”

I felt my boyfriend tense under my arm, and when the inevitable slaughter occured on screen, he tucked his head into my neck. I could feel his shaky breath tickling my skin.

“Y-yes. That would be a smart idea.”

“You sure you're not too scared, Manny?”

“Of course not!” he snapped. “I mean, of course- I'm sure that I can keep watching this absurd film. I'll be fine.”

“Maybe we could at least switch to a more comfortable position? Here-” I struggled to pry myself out of Manfred's grasp so I could move us both to recline on the couch. Eventually I was leaned back against the cushions with my boyfriend practically on top of me, clinging to my body while both my arms were wrapped securely around him. One hand rubbed his back while the other stroked his hair.

“...That's much better,” he mumbled into my chest.

I could feel his muscles relaxing under my arms despite the ongoing carnage of the movie. I thought for a moment that my calming efforts and newfound protective nature had worked a miracle, until the screen got brighter again and I could see that my boyfriend’s eyes were squeezed shut. I smiled at him. I'd still give myself some credit.

The rest of the movie went by in relative peace. Not inside the movie; there were a couple more deaths before the protagonist finally escaped and an obvious sequel hook was teased, but outside of the TV, things were calm. I felt Manfred tense up with every loud noise, but he relaxed quickly enough in my arms.

Finally, when the credits began to roll, I stretched as far as I could to grab the remote, and ended the movie. The screen was bright enough then to partially illuminate the room. I saw Manfred's eyes flutter open.

“Over already?” he asked.

“Mm-hmm. How'd you like it?”

“I thought it was terribly dull.” He sat up straight on the couch, brushed off imaginary dust from his shirt, and gestured toward the light switch. “Why don't you turn the lights back on? I can hardly see.”

I got up and did as he asked, grinning at my boyfriend who suddenly looked far more brave now that it wasn't dark. “You wanna try something scarier next time, then?”

“Next time?” Manfred grimaced. “I thought you said this movie bored you?”

“Well, it did, but-”

“We can discuss a future movie night later, Miss Martin. I'd like to get to bed, I'd you wouldn't mind.”

“Alright.” I returned to the couch and offered him his cane, taking his hand as we walked toward the bedroom together. “You need to sleep with the lights on tonight, Manny?”

“Don't be ridiculous. I can get to sleep without worrying about ghosts disturbing me in my bed. A closed door is more than enough.”

“But…can't ghosts go through walls and doors and stuff?”

“I thought you said you didn't believe in ghosts?”

“I'm just saying, they could do that in the movie.”

I felt my hand being held extra tightly when we entered our bedroom and broke apart to get dressed. As I prepared for bed, I thought to myself about what movie to watch next. I'd let Manfred pick, I supposed, and not ask for another horror movie any time soon. I'd already put my boyfriend through enough that night.

I wouldn't say never, though. The movie itself was as dull to me as Manfred wanted to pretend it was, but getting to be my boyfriend's brave, strong protector was a treat. Maybe we could try again later, after I'd bothered him into getting a doctor's appointment just to make sure his heart wasn't at risk of stopping from it.

I crawled into bed just before him, and watched him reach toward his bedside lamp before joining me. He was moving slowly, and appearing to have some difficulty finding the switch.

“Hey, Manny? Can you keep the light on?” Knowing he'd try to protest, I quickly added, “It’s just for me. I think I'd have a better time tonight with it on.”

“If you insist,” Manfred said, and got in bed before I could even think of changing my mind.

He worked his way closer and lay an arm across me, holding me tight in what was either a display of affection or lingering fear - possibly both. I gave him a quick kiss and held him back.

“Sleep tight, okay?” I said softly. “I'll keep you safe.”

Manfred opened his mouth, then closed it, swallowing another declaration of false bravado. Instead, he nuzzled his head close and whispered, “Thank you.”

#my writing #manfred von karma #self ship

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gosecretscribbles · 4 months ago

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Rise August Day 5: Prison Dimension

Summary: Leo's triggers from the Krang and the Prison Dimension do not go unnoticed.

A/N: Trigger warning for triggers, literally. Leo experiences triggers that cause anxiety, blackouts, and minor flashbacks.

One minute and forty-seven seconds.

He did, in fact, sustain life-threatening injuries, and there were some complications when a cut on his shell got infected. But it wasn’t as bad as what could have happened. So he was fine.

He might have died in the Prison Dimension. That would have been bad.

He might have not died in the Prison Dimension. That would have been arguably worse. The Krang somehow lived in there for hundreds of years. Yet Leo had seen no sign of life or water in there. So maybe the dimension itself preserved its inhabitants indefinitely. Leo could have been trapped in there forever. He hadn’t been.

So he was fine.

1. The Fridge

It was a cold morning. It shouldn’t have been, but somehow the floor chilled his feet into little bony ice cubes the moment Leo got up. He wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and shuffled to the kitchen. Mikey was already up, of course, making a buffet of French toast and bacon.

“Morning, sleepy head!”

“Your early morning cheerfulness disgusts me.”

“I control the food.”

“Therefore I shall refrain from eating you today.” He ambled over to the fridge. He wanted to get some juice while he waited for breakfast. Maybe heat up a piece of last night’s pizza. He reached an arm out, opening the front of his blanket cape, and pulled it open.

Cold air hit the front of his plastron and everything turned gray and empty. Leo shut the fridge too hard and did not breathe.

“Leo?”

“Something stinks,” Leo said, pinching his beak. That was it. Something smelled bad and that was why his voice sounded weird, because he had to pinch his nose. He backed away from the fridge. “Did you throw Monday’s fish bones in there and forget to tell us?”

“No?” Mikey stopped mixing batter and went to the fridge. Leo made a beeline for the door and had just passed the table when Mikey spoke again. “Oh, hang on, Barry’s brownies are in here! And they’ve gained sentience. Yikes. I’ll take them back when I have my next lesson with him. Huginn or Muninn will eat them.”

Leo spun and grabbed a chair, pulling it out with a flourish. He was going to sit the whole time, obviously.

“Papa Defenestration strikes again,” he sighed, stretching his arms out on the table. “Can’t even get a glass of juice in my own home because of his mad scientist shenanigans.”

“Oh, please. We’ve lived with Donnie our whole lives, we’re all used to mad scientist shenanigans.”

“I would argue, but you control the food.”

“You bet your shell I do!”

2. Barry’s Vines

Leo sliced a hole in space as casually as he’d slice a pizza and stepped through it into Barry’s courtyard. The old goat still lived in April’s apartment complex, but since he’d been dubbed a hero for helping defeat the Shredder, it was safe for him to come back to his old lair. It was a good spot to train Mikey’s prodigious mystic powers.

Sure enough, Mikey was standing in the center of a large crater. Multiple chains floated around him. They ended somewhere, but somehow Leo didn’t see where. They didn’t go beyond the crater but still stretched and stretched without ever looping back on themselves. It was giving him a headache.

“Mikey!” Leo called. “You’re late for pizza and Hueso’s making judgy comments in my general direction!”

Mikey didn’t seem to hear him. Barry didn’t seem to hear him, either. He was standing like a rock on the other side of the crater.

“Again,” he called.

Mikey’s spots were already glowing with power and his scales seemed to glisten. That was weird. Was he perspiring? Mikey didn’t have sweat glands. Leo started to step forward to take a closer look when the air around him flashed with heat. Another chain whipped into view. The addition also seemed to cause a loss of control. All the other chains suddenly lashed like angry snakes, whipping wildly and striking everything within the crater. Leo had stepped a split-second too late.

His foot was already over the edge of the crater. A chain curled towards him. He couldn’t change trajectory. He ducked. He felt it whizz overhead, felt it crisp his scalp. It struck the ground beside him. He lost his balance and opened his mouth to yell just as something thick and pink whipped itself around his waist.

He wasn’t sure what happened next. Mikey was standing in front of him, eyes wide. He was holding his swords. The vine – several vines were in pieces around him. Barry stood behind Mikey. His face was blank but his eyes looked straight through Leo.

“Don’t touch me. With the vines,” Leo bit out. “Had enough of those when you threw me off the roof.”

“Always the roof with you,” Barry said, but his tone was rote and he was still looking at Leo with his stupid sharp eyes.

“C’mon,” Leo muttered, grabbing Mikey’s wrist. “Raph and Donnie aren’t going to wait forever and I don’t want to eat vegetables again.”

“Uh. Okay.”

Leo sliced open another portal and pulled his brother along.

3. Splinter’s Sewing Machine

This one wasn’t fair. Splinter kept his sewing machine in his room. Leo was in Donnie’s lab. He liked going there and just existing when he couldn’t sleep at night. It was a little bubble of time and space for just him and Donnie. It was private and normal and safe.

Splinter’s sewing machine had broken. Donnie had taken it to his lab to fix it. Leo knew what a sewing machine sounded like. He walked in, took one look, and settled in his spot in Donnie’s chair. He curled up with a medical textbook and Donnie flicked on the desk lamp without looking. That’s what Leo came here for. That wordless, automatic understanding. Leo didn’t know. How could he know?

And then Donnie closed the sewing machine.

The scrape of metal on metal cut through Leo’s spine and he saw Prime walking towards him, the metal of his suit echoing across an infinity of broken steel and stone. He came back just in time to catch his book from falling. Donnie hadn’t turned. It hadn’t even been a split-second. It wasn’t a flashback.

“…replacement part,” Donnie was saying. To Shelldon. He’d been sleeping at his charging port, but the noise must have woken him up. “Could have it here by next week, unless I fabricate a new one.”

“Ohhh, let’s make it purple!”

“Indulgent chuckle. Of course we will. Let me take some measurements.” Donnie pulled the case back open. Leo dropped the book.

“Could you soak that thing in some WD-40?” he gritted out.

Donnie rolled his eyes. “Lubricant won’t fix a bent hinge. I’ll probably just end up replacing that, too.” He let go of the case to grab a part. The case creaked shut.

Leo shot to his feet. “Cut it out!”

Donnie stared at him. Leo’s scales went cold. Donnie wasn’t supposed to look at him like that, not here, but before he could say anything, Donnie turned to Shelldon.

“Shelldon, please add metal friction stress to the list, notes A-E sharp.”

“On it, dude!”

Leo looked back and forth. “What list?”

“The Code Blue list!” Shelldon said cheerfully. “The fridge, subnote any sudden gust of cool air; Barry’s vines, subnote anything pink and prehensile; isolation, subnote unintentional or undesired isolation; applied pressure, subnote chest or plastron; absence of weapons, subnote weapons beyond easy reach; metal friction stress –”

“You can’t do that,” Leo bit out. Every word felt like it was being punched out of him. “You can’t. Have a list.”

“Why?” Donnie asked.

“Because taking data collection on other people’s trauma goes way past self-soothing! How about that, Donnie?!”

Because he hadn’t even noticed some of the stuff on that list. Because some of that stuff didn’t happen where Donnie could have recorded it. Because it meant his brothers were talking about him behind his back. Because they were looking at part of him he couldn’t admit even existed before he was ready to see it himself.

“It is very much not about soothing myself. Do you want to hear my list?”

“I – what?”

“Everybody’s got one,” Shelldon explained. “They’re color-coded for optimum organization.”

“No.”

“Alright, yeesh.”

Donnie sighed. “Shelldon, take the measurements and assemble the materials for fabrication. I’ll create a template for the parts tomorrow. I have to get my dum-dum brother to bed.”

“I’m not tired.” He was exhausted, and so wired he was sure he wouldn’t sleep for hours.

“Fine, then you can lay on my shell and acknowledge my self-sacrifice. I’m giving up coffee and precious work hours for this, you know.” He grabbed Leo’s wrist and tugged him toward the door.

“There’s no list,” Leo said.

Donnie stopped and glanced at him. They were still inside the lab. The unspoken rule of automatic understanding still applied. Donnie nodded.

“There’s no list.”

They went to Leo’s room. He was right, he was too wired to sleep, so they watched skateboarding videos until their eyes got dry and grimy and then kept watching anyway. It wasn’t the same as the lab but the scrape of wood on concrete was enough to cover the sounds in Leo’s head.

@sariphantom

#rise august #rise august 2024 #rottmnt #rottmnt leonardo #rottmnt leo #rise leonardo #rise leo #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt donatello #rise donatello #rise donnie #PTSD #PTSD symptoms #anxiety #blackout #panic #list #shelldon #s.h.e.l.l.d.o.n

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whats-wild-to-you · 1 year ago

Text

Enemies 2 Lovers - Pt. 2

Jay's POV

"Bro, what's wrong with you?"

I vaguely heard Brian's voice over the noise from the crowd around us at the bar. Shrugging my shoulders, I looked at him.

"Victoria practically eye-fucked you, but you didn't even blink! Are you sick or something?" He commented on the pesky brunette who was harassing me a minute ago.

"Probably." I mumbled more to myself, allowing the memories of last night to flood my mind again.

*** flashback ***

"Hi, Allie!" I chirped, as soon as she opened the door.

Her irises wandered to the back of her head, and a groan left her lips.

"I thought I told you no. Do you suffer from amnesia?"

She looked cute, trying to be annoyed and all that but she couldn't fool me. I had seen the glimmer in her eyes when she saw me at the door. I knew then and there that she was thinking about me too.

"Brian's not here!"

"Never said I was looking for him. And even if I did, I know better than to look for him here!"

Brian was a dude, and Allie's and Hannah's dorm had way to much pink in it.

"So? What are you doing?"

"Trying to get away from you."

"I'll let you in on a secret. You can't."

"Creepy."

Admittedly, that had been a little creepy, but I was out of my element. Never before had a girl rejected me. Especially after I had sex with her. It was always the opposite. Most of the times I had to keep them away from me.

"I'm kidding. But for real though, what are you doing?"

I was finally able to tear my gaze off her long enough to notice the chaos around her.

"I'm looking for something." She said absentmindedly, inspecting the pile of stuff laying at her feet.

"A needle in a haystack?"

She gave me a side-eye and I raised my arms defensively. "If you tell me what it is, I could help you look!"

"You can't. And I can't tell you what it is."

Confused, I went to grab a can of beer and sat on the couch, watching Allie rummage through the pile. It didn't take long before she plopped down next to me, sighing in defeat.

Her sweet scent was intoxicating, coating my mind, blurring out everything else. I inhaled deeply, desperately trying to immortalize her essence in my memory.

"Are you okay?" She looked straight ahead, but sounded worried nonetheless.

"No. I'm not. Do you want to know why?"

She didn't answer, but tilted her head ever so slightly. I knew I had to breach the subject carefully and avoid making inappropriate comments.

"I can't stop thinking about you!"

A sigh left her lips as she rolled her eyes.

"Allie, I'm being honest."

"I bet you say that to all your hookups."

She spoke so softly, so silently, if I wasn't hanging on to each letter that left her mouth I would be thinking she was talking to herself.

"You were not a hookup. With you, it felt different."

"I can't."

With only two words, only five letters, she managed to nip all my hopes in the bud. I watched her as she walked up to the door, opening it wide to let the cold air in and let me out. Despite not wanting to, I found myself outside her dorm.

I had been rejected before, usually it didn't affect me much, so why was I a mess right now?

*** end of flashback ***

Allie's POV

The minute Hannah walked through the door I knew something good had happened.

"Was the sex that good?"

"What do you take us for? I told you Brian took me out on a date!"

"Just a date?"

I had a hard time imagining Brian being the romantic type.

"The most beautiful, wonderful, most romantic date I've ever been on!"

"Wow! Tell me more."

"He said he loves me. He told me he wants us to be together for life. He even mentioned marriage!"

"Oh." My reaction surprised me as much as it surprised Hannah. I wanted to be happy for her, hold hands and jump up and down in joy, but I couldn't.

Something was holding me back. No! It wasn't just anything. I knew exactly what it was. I just had to admit it to myself.

"Oh God, I'm sorry, Allie!"

"Why are you sorry?"

"Breaking up with Nick and all, I'm sure the last thing you want to hear about is this."

"Nonsense! I'm happy for you. There's just something on my mind!"

"You think he doesn't mean it? That we're being too hasty?"

"No, not at all. It's about something else.

"I noticed you being off all day. If you need to talk, you know where to find me!"

She hugged me and left for her room. Once again I was alone, with intrusive thoughts circling above my head.

What did Jay want from me last night?

I was sure it wasn't sex. Jay could be very forthcoming when he wanted sex, I had seen it with my own eyes, but last night he was almost … nervous?

As if he just wanted to be next to...

"No! It can't be."

But why? Why did I turn him down?

Like a broken record, my mind kept replaying his last words over and over again.

'You were not a hookup. With you, it felt different.'

I wasn't sure if he meant it, but something in my heart told me that he did.

This was what I was most scared of! That Jay could be telling the truth. That last night actually meant something to him.

What about you?, a voice in my head asked.

Did it mean something to me? I was too afraid to say out loud.

After deciding that I've suffered enough, I tossed the covers off me and climbed out of bed. It was 2am and I was sure Hannah was fast asleep but I was on a mission. I wanted clarity and Hannah was the only person who would give me valuable advice.

"Hannah?" I whispered, slowly opening her door.

As expected, she slept soundly, snoring lightly.

"Hannah?" This time I raised my voice a little, carefully sitting on her bed.

She stirred in her sleep but wouldn't wake up.

"Hannah!" I almost screamed next to her ear, making her jump up. Immediately I apologized.

"What's wrong?"

"I need to talk to you!"

Rubbing her eyes, she sat up on the bed, her gaze telling me that she was listening.

"I did something stupid. I had sex with Jay."

"Whoa! Really?"

She didn't sound surprised, but very excited. I silenced her with a stare.

"I don't know why I let it happen, and I was sure I would regret it later but I haven't been able to stop thinking about it ever since."

"I see. What did Jay say? Did he apologize?"

"Apologize? No, but he said that he too can't stop thinking about it, and that it felt different for him. Is that even possible?"

"Whoa!"

"Can you say anything else besides 'whoa!', I need your help!"

"Hmmm, I don't know if I'm supposed to tell you but remember when I said you should go on a date with him?"

"... Yeah?"

"I had just started dating Brian and Jay was very interested in you. I thought he was too shy to ask you out himself, that's why I suggested you going on a date with him."

"Jay? Shy?"

"I had just met him, I didn't know how he was. But he was really interested in you. I know that for sure. Brian confirmed it too!"

"Confirmed it, how?"

"Apparently Jay and him got drunk one night and Jay confessed that he liked you. I don't know how accurate this is though, because Brian was wasted too."

"Probably not very accurate."

"Allie? Do you like Jay?"

"I don't know." I said with a sigh and got up.

The next morning I went to class but couldn't concentrate one bit.

Jay's chair was empty.

This was the only class we had together, and as much as I didn't want to admit it before, seeing Jay once in a while wasn't so bad after all.

Of course we met from time to time due to both our best friends dating each other but whenever others were around, Jay usually acted like a jerk.

Now I wondered if all that was an act. When we were by ourselves he was very nice, courteous and even funny. The complete opposite of how he was around other girls.

'You were not a hookup. It felt different.'

I could practically hear his voice, the mere thought about him send shivers down my back.

I would probably regret admitting it, but right now I missed him.

After a whole day of not crossing paths with him, I was on my way home when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket.

I'm at Brian's. Meet me there.

A glimmer of hope sparked in me.

Maybe I'd be running into Jay there. Maybe he was moping the floor like I was all day and Hannah, angel that she was, lured me there so we could talk.

Granted, there were a lot of maybes, but I wasn't ready to spoil my mood again. At least not for now.

Arriving at Brian's and Jay's dorm, I took a deep breath before I knocked on the door. Hannah answered immediately, dragging me inside.

"I told Brian what you told me yesterday and he said Jay was a bit off too, so we came with a plan to team-tagging him once he comes home."

"Oh." I couldn't hide my disappointment about Jay not being there and Hannah's and Brian's plan had some flaws too.

"Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me!" Brian answered as if he could actually hear my inner turmoil.

"But, Brian, did you ask him? Why he was being weird, I mean. Maybe it's nothing to do with me!"

"I would've thought so too, but he rejected some chick that was hitting on him. Pretty out of character but not concerning, right? Not until Hannah told me that you two-"

"Okay, I get it." For some reason I didn't want to hear Brian say the word 'hookup' when Jay himself said it hadn't felt like one. "So, we wait?"

"Jay should be back any minute!" Brian said, visibly excited.

So we all sat down on the couch, that was facing the door, and waited. While Hannah and Brian were all excited and giddy, I kept biting my nails and tapping my foot impatiently.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, we heard keys rustling. Hannah and Brian exchanged a look full of anticipation, with Hannah reassuringly squeezing my shoulder.

Jay walked in through the door first but he walked in backwards, as if someone wa-

The tall blonde lightly pushed him inside the dorm, their lips connected, their hands tangled in each other's hair. Jay stumbled over something, cursing inside the blonde's mouth. She moaned in response. When she broke the kiss, her eyes fell on Hannah, Brian and myself, idly sitting on the couch, observing the scene in front of us. Jay's eyes caught hers and he whirled his head around just at the right time to see me wipe away a single tear. A tear that despite my constant silent pleas to stay put, still managed to escape its watery prison.

"Fuck!" I heard him whisper as I walked past him and the blonde, keeping my head low.

I had gone through an entire box of tissues when Hannah found me lying on the bathroom floor later that night.

I had cried to my heart's content, feeling betrayed, but honestly, the only person I could blame was me!

I had teared down my walls.

I had allowed to believe.

It was all my fault.

"Allie?" Her voice was a whisper when she put her arms around me, rocking me back and forth as fresh tears formed.

"I'm so sorry, Allie! I-"

"You couldn't have known." I managed to say in between sobs.

But I should've known. I should've seen this coming!

"Allie? Look at me! You'll be okay!"

I only believed Hannah's word to some extent. I now knew why I was so bothered by Jay.

I did like him. Despite his escapades. I even thought that I could maybe change him.

How foolish of me!

"I'd like to be alone." I blubbered, and Hannah nodded in understanding, before she vanished off to the store to get ice cream.

It had helped me during my breakup with Nick, but I doubted it would be of much comfort now.

Jay's POV

"Bro, you fucked UP!" Brian hollered angrily. "What the hell where you thinking?"

"Apparently I wasn't." I countered dryly.

After thoughts of Allie occupied my brain all day, I only saw one way to get them out of my mind.

The tall blonde from my economics course had been eyeing me all day, seemingly bumping into me whenever I went. I didn't believe in coincidences, so I walked up to her, asking her if she would be free later.

Was I proud of myself? Hell, no! But I realized I would never get a girl like Allie, so the sooner I moved on, the better.

The way she looked at me when I turned my head and locked eyes with her. Her small, dainty hand that reached up to her cheek to wipe away a tear. It would all burn itself into my memory for the rest of my life, reminding me, taunting me of what I missed out on. Of what I couldn’t have.

"How is she?" The question escaped my mouth before I could swallow it. It was the only thing I worried about.

"Fuck, I don't know. Hannah's with her, but she hasn't texted yet. How do you think she's doing?"

I wasn't mad at Brian's outburst. To him, Allie was like a little sister. When he started dating Hannah, he also signed an invisible contract to watch over Allie too. That was partly the reason why I always shied away from revealing my true feelings for her to him sooner.

Allie was a girl I wanted to see myself with. Someone that was good for me. Someone who I could trust. But would a girl like Allie ever feel the same way about me? Hooking up with brainless chicks seemed easier. More realistic. In the end I had blown my chances. If there ever were any.

“This won’t do. I have to see for myself!”

Brian couldn’t have stopped me, my feet carried me all the way to Allie’s dorm. I was relieved when I saw light in her room.

Hopefully she was alone. If I ran into Hannah now, she’d probably castrate me.

When I stood outside her door I mustered up all my courage and knocked. No answer. I knocked again, pressing my ear against the cold wood. Still nothing.

Did something happen to her?

Did she do something stupid while being in there alone?

Where the hell was Hannah? Her car wasn’t here but Brian said she had been with Allie.

“Allie, it’s me.”

I didn’t think it would be an advantage to reveal who’s been pestering her, but I needed to at least hear her voice, even if she told me to go to hell. At least that way I could make sure she was okay.

Allie’s POV

At the sound of Jay’s voice I tensed up. He sounded broken. Defeated. I wanted to just open the door and let him in so bad, but I had to restrain myself. Hannah wasn’t here and without her I would crumble. I couldn’t crumble. I had to stay strong.

Maybe there’s an explanation?

Maybe he did it because he was hurting?

My brain tried to make up excuses for Jay’s behavior as if it had already decided to forgive him. But my heart was broken and Jay wouldn’t get to see me like that.

“Allie, please.”

His words were slowly tearing my walls down. I needed Hannah to come back immediately.

“Allie, can you hear me? I just need to know you’re okay. Please say something.” I could hear the pain and worry in his voice. He was hurting just like I was. But was that enough for me to excuse his behavior?

The answer should’ve been no, but my heart was yelling Yes, yes, yes!

Staying three feet away from the door, I extended a hand, pulling at the door handle. At first nothing happened, but then the door creaked as Jay slowly pushed it open, slipping in.

He wanted to say something, but stopped himself when he saw my tear stained face. I didn’t bother wiping away the salty traces off my cheeks. I was going to let him see them. So he would know how much I was suffering because of him.

“Allie, I-”

I stopped him before he could continue. I really didn’t need to hear his apology. I doubted it would give me any solace.

“Please hear me out!” He raised his voice at the end, sounding exhausted.

Had he been crying too?

I chuckled at the thought. It seemed very unlikely.

“You can say what you have to say and then leave.” I mentally high-fived myself for staying strong enough so that my voice wouldn’t tremble.

Jay’s POV

The temperate in the room dropped below zero. I deserved it though, I broke her heart. She had every right to treat me like dirt. My hopes of her believing my words dwindled but I had to say them anyway. She had to hear them.

“I’m sorry I hurt you. But I didn’t lie to you. For me, it didn’t feel like a hookup. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I wanted to see you. Be with you. I never felt like this before. But then I realized you wouldn’t believe me even if I told you. I was hurt and stupid and thought that I was only good for casual hookups. If I had kn-”

I stopped mid-sentence. It was a suicide mission, I knew that now. Allie was avoiding my glances and I doubted she really listened to my bullshit rambling. Nodding my head, I turned around to leave, when her small voice made me freeze on the spot.

“Wait.”

Hope rose in me. Like a fool I believe my bullshit excuse did something for me to gain a little trust back.

But then she fell silent again. Not knowing what to do or say, I stood rooted in place, my arms itching to wrap themselves around her small trembling frame. She looked at me with a mixture of pain and confusion, as if trying to decide what to do next and how much it would hurt.

“I didn’t come here to beg, mainly because I’m sure it won’t make what I did undone. I just neede- I’ll be going now.”

“Wait!” She repeated, this time louder. I could practically see the heated debate she had in her head.

Without warning, she took a step forward. Then another. I stood still, anticipating her next step. She would either slap me or hug me, and not even Allie herself knew what it was going to be.

Allie’s POV

I stood in front of him for what felt like an eternity.

Where the hell was Hannah with the damn ice cream?

My brain was telling me to let him go, my heart wanted him to stay.

My arms wanted to wrap themselves around his waist, my feet wanted to kick his groin. I was utterly confused, but I did believe him. But I’d be damned if I let him know that.

“You hurt me. A lot!”

He opened his mouth to say something but I silenced him.

“But it’s not your fault I’m hurting. It’s mine. Hooking up was my idea, remember? I thought I could move on, but I was a fool for believing that. It affected me. You affected me. In way I do not fully understand yet. You didn’t do anything wrong. I was the one who started daydreaming. So don’t feel bad.”

“Allie…”

“Honestly, what options do we have? You’re you, and I’m me. Neither of us would give up who they are.”

“I would.”

His answer came so fast it gave me whiplash.

“If you gave me a chance.”

Letting out a breath I kept in for too long, I casted my eyes downwards, staring at my feet. I could feel my walls crumbling, the foundation shaking. As if being controlled remotely, my feet inched closer to Jay, almost touching. From the corner of my eye, I saw him lifting an arm, his soft fingers cupping my chin, tilting my head upwards until our eyes met.

Damn! He’s telling the truth.

Am I really going to give him a chance?

There were only two outcomes, really. Either we’d make it work or we wouldn’t.

“You hate putting labels on things.”

“I’m willing to try something new this time.”

“Will you be okay?”

“As long as you’re with me.”

Licking him lips, he lowered his head, capturing my lips in his, ultimately sealing our silent deal.

#jay park #more soju please #park jaybum #park jaebum #park jaebeom #ask request #anon request #Jay park short story

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cakelanguage · 1 year ago

Text

Guess who finally wrote stuff that they’re posting? ME. I got to write a gift for @twistmyleg for the IgNoct 2023 Gift Exchange @ignoctgiftexchange. I hope you enjoy this fic!

You can also read it HERE

Battles against Nifleheim’s Magitek soldiers weren’t out of the ordinary at this point. Ignis had perhaps grown too used to the rumbling of the aircrafts overhead and the mechanical clanks of the soldier’s joints as they marched disjointedly alongside each other.

That didn’t make any of the encounters less harrowing than the last. But repetitive encounters did make one grow lax to certain features. The soldiers tended to attack in swarms and focused their attention on Noctis for the most part, using their numbers to try to box Noct in. Having Noctis be cut off from their protection had panic clutching at Ignis’ throat the first few times, but the soldiers weren’t particularly strong. Gladio could take out a soldier with a single swipe of his broadsword and Prompto had gotten quite adept at aiming his bullets at key joints in the armor to remove limbs with jubilance.

Ignis preferred infusing his daggers with magic or a polearm to create distance between him and his opponent. If a tiny bit of the reason he preferred the daggers more was that Noctis’ magic was warm under his hands—no matter what elemental he’d channel through the blades—no one had to know.

But as he’d mentioned, repetitive encounters didn’t mean they’d always be the same. There were still times they were caught unaware or the soldiers did something unpredictable. Which led them into the situation they were in now.

The air in Duscae was humid and heavy with the scent of incoming storms. They’d had a day of hunting, collecting money so they’d have enough to not only pay Cid for the repairs of the Royal Vessel but money for weapon upgrades and more healing supplies as they’d grown terribly low over the course of the week. With everything that had gone down in the Steyliff Grove ruins and Gladio’s self-discovery trip with Cor, they’d worn themselves down perhaps a bit too much.

While most of the group had been more than happy to accept some leisurely time spent at Cape Caeum with Iris and the gang, Gladio had been full of vigor to continue to power through. He seemed to have found a renewed passion for not only his duty but his belief in his own power. Gladio’s enthusiasm had only spurred Prompto into giving in to the older man’s desire, though Ignis had a feeling it was so Prompto could snap more pictures of Gladio’s new proclivity to forego wearing his shirt for extended periods of time. Noctis hadn’t had much of an opinion on the matter so that had been that.

With exhaustion tugging at his limbs and four contracts completed for the Hunter’s Guild, Ignis thought they were doing fine. Tired, but fine.

Until the aircraft showed up.

Dread hammered at him as the aircraft came to a standstill not twenty feet away from them. Gladio was the first to summon his sword. “Looks like we’ve got company,” he grunted.

Prompto let out a sound between a whine and a groan. “Can’t they leave us alone for a day?” Prompto asked, summoning his guns to his hands.

“The world would end before they did that, Prompto,” Noctis said.

Prompto whipped his head around with a glare. “Don’t give the world any ideas.”

Ignis couldn’t suppress the tiny smile that always came out when the group teased each other. “Duly noted, Prompto,” Ignis said. With a shatter of luminous crystals, the weight of his daggers settled in his hands. Despite the long day they’d already had, the familiar weight of the blades was just as comforting as always. “Shall we gentlemen?”

Noctis flashed him a confident smile, bright and boyish despite everything. “Bet I can defeat more than Gladio; what do you think, Specs?”

Ignoring Gladio’s vehement denial, Ignis made a considering hum. “Perhaps if Gladio decides to try and show off again, you can take out an extra soldier while he postures for one of his spins.”

“It’s an effective move!” Gladio argued over Prompto and Noctis’ laughter. Rolling his eyes, Gladio turned his eyes back to their enemy who was jerkily making their way over. “Whatever, you're on, Noct.”

Noctis’ engine blade gave a rumble as he too turned his attention to the soldiers. “Let’s do this.”

Watching Noctis toss his sword and warp towards the enemy in a shatter of crystals, Ignis dashed forward letting lightning crackle through his daggers. With a deft strike to the left, he struck the neck of one of the Magitek soldiers. The body jerked angrily, a feeble swing of its sword missing by over a foot before falling into a heap of metal.

Turning towards the sound of gunfire, he caught Prompto and Gladio coordinating a combo that involved Prompto using Gladio’s back as a springboard to come down on a soldier with his chainsaw weapon he was still mastering. The whoop of success from the two must’ve meant the two had nailed the combo they’d been trying to get down for a while.

He focused back on his next opponent and switched his daggers out for his polearm to sweep the three soldiers that had gotten too close to a more manageable distance away. He contemplated pulling out a flask of ice to halt the soldiers in place but knew it would do more harm to the team than good. Close-quarter fighting was not the time to use Noctis’ bottled elements. They’d all learned this the hard way on multiple hunts with burns and threatening hypothermia.

A yelp jerked his attention towards Noctis, who was surrounded on all sides. Ignis immediately clocked the stream of blood that flowed from the cut on his upper arm. He couldn’t tell if it was serious, but by the way Noctis was clenching his jaw, it was at the very least painful.

Ignis threw a dagger at a soldier that was getting distressingly close to Noctis’ back while the man in question was focusing his assault on the three soldiers in front of him. Ignis tried to follow the path of his dagger, pulling his polearm back out to vault himself into the air to come to Noct’s aid when he felt it.

Shooting pain radiated from his shoulder as he was impaled on the end of a soldier’s sword. Hot blood gushed from the puncture and instinctively Ignis grabbed at the blade that stuck out of him to try and prevent the sword from being pulled out. The bleeding would only increase if the metal was removed and he couldn’t risk that.

He’d been distracted, too caught up in making sure Noctis was defended even though he had two additional people he could rely on to watch Noctis’ back. It wasn’t even a lack of trust that caused him to react in such a way. Gladio was Noctis’ shield for Astrals' sake. No, it’s just that Ignis had a hard time stopping himself from constantly trying to be at Noctis’ side. To provide aid in any way he could.

An electrical current travels down the blade and through his shoulder in a dazzle of red bolts. He chokes on a scream, body jerking uncoordinated in its failed attempts to distance itself from the bolts frying the edges of the wound. It's an odd mix of detachment and all too aware agony that the current flows through him.

A gurgling moan reached his ears and vaguely realized it was coming from himself. Ignis could hear an uproar around him and maybe his name, but none of it was registering as more than nonsense in the wind. That wasn’t good, especially since they were all in the midst of battle. Ignis needed to get out of this situation. He needed to go help Noctis.

With an angry cry, Ignis shifted himself to the right in a quick motion, dislodging the sword from the soldier’s grip and somehow managing not to have the sword shift in his body. Probably because his collarbone and shoulder were doing an excellent job at halting the sword’s progress. Panting, he blindly backed away from the soldier who was quickly taken out by a swing of a glowing sword.

Ignis frantically tore his gaze toward the location he’d last seen Noctis only to be met with the sight of broken Magitek armor. The shattering of crystal breached his senses and he turned once more to the sky to see Noctis levitating off the ground, his arsenal floating around him in a defensive circle.

Spectral swords of old reigned terror on their foe, but Ignis had eyes only for his prince. Furious and terrifyingly beautiful—no, this wasn’t just his prince, his king, this was Noct. His precious Noctis. The boy who used to walk hand-in-hand with him in the royal gardens donned with flower crowns. The boy he tucked close to his side up in the highest tower, blankets around their shoulders as they stared up at the constellations they could make out amongst the light pollution from the city. The young man who tried to live up to everyone’s expectations no matter how monumental a task that might be.

Despite Ignis’ fading vision, he couldn’t bring himself to tear his gaze from Noctis’ rampage. Even when he felt hands grasping at his shoulder to try and maneuver him into a better position to supposedly try and treat his wound, his focus was on Noctis.

“Iggy, you’ve gotta lay down,” Prompto said, his voice cutting through the fog.

Ignis wanted to protest, to urge Prompto’s attention back to the battle, but all he managed to croak out was, “Noct?”

Prompto let out a nervous, high-pitch laugh, the kind he let out when he wasn’t entirely sure how to handle the situation and he needed to break the tension. “Noct’s got it under control.” Prompto prodded delicately around the sword still lodged through him and Ignis hissed at the fresh wave of pain that cut through the numbness that was threatening his consciousness. “Shit, okay sorry, Iggy. We’ve gotta get this thing out of you.”

Ignis lazily shook his head. “The bleeding.”

“No, I know you’re bleeding, that’s why we need to heal you.”

He wasn’t positive but he knew their stock of potions was running low and he was determined to make sure Noct was looked at first. “Save them for Noct,” Ignis grits out.

There was a thud beside him and a meaty hand joined Prompto’s in inspecting his wound. “Yeah, Iggy, don’t even start with that crap,” Gladio said. “Noctis will throw a fit if he hears you say that.” Perhaps, but Ignis could be stubborn about this until he knew the extent of Noctis’ injuries. “Can’t believe I have to do this… Noct, get over here!”

He squinted at the blast of crystalline magic that Noctis’ practically erupted out of in his mad dash to reach him. It was almost laughable, the way his limbs almost got tangled up in each other as he collapsed in a messy kneel on his good side. Maybe he was a bit worse off than he originally thought.

“Hey, Iggy,” Noctis said. Noctis’ voice was always so soft when he said Ignis’ name. A hand cupped his cheek and Ignis leaned into Noctis’ hand because it had to be his. He recognized the callouses against his skin, the little scab on Noctis’ thumb from a mishap with one of his lures that he figured would heal on its own. “You seem a bit pinned down.”

Ignis let out a weak, amused snort. “Didn’t quite make the cut I suppose.” Not his best work as far as puns go, but he blamed the blood loss.

Noctis’ chuckle was music to his ears. “That was terrible, Specs.”

“You still laughed.”

“It was a pity laugh.”

Ignis gave a noncommittal hum. “Maybe so, but a laugh is a laugh.”

“Can we heal Ignis now, or are you two going to continue flirting?” Gladio asked. “Because you’re seriously losing too much blood.”

Ignis probably would’ve had an intelligent retort about Gladio and Prompto’s own flirting attempts if he didn’t lose consciousness before he could respond.

He comes to with a familiar grogginess clinging to his mind. It should alarm him that he's used to waking up like this, the dredges of a potion still faint in his mouth. But Noctis has taken to experimenting with the different drinks he uses to make his healing concoctions and always tries to give Ignis the Ebony-flavored ones.

The weight of a hand curled tightly around him pulls his attention toward his companion. Noctis is hunched over beside him, his head periodically dropping as he fights sleep. Ignis knows that Noctis will be regretting that posture later when his scar tissue flairs in angry stabs along his back. He wants to reach out and correct it or at the very least pull him down so that Noctis is laying beside him. He just can't get his arm to cooperate.

Settling to verbally get Noctis' attention, he quietly cleared his throat. "Noct," he said, voice rough with sleep. Ignis can't quite hold back the snort of laughter he lets out at the disgruntled jerk Noctis makes at the noise. "You should lay down."

"Ignis," Noctis breathes, a smile wrinkling his eyes in the beautiful way Ignis wants life to document Noct's joy. "You had us worried."

The battle is fresh in his mind, the pounding of boots as Magitek soldiers swarmed them. He remembers the flash of steel before it'd skewered him through the shoulder. The Lichtenberg of electricity that'd raced down his arm and fanned out from his fingertips. The spasming of his limbs as the power took its toll on him.

But mostly he remembers Noct. He remembers the fury in Noctis’ actions and the gentleness he returned to Ignis’ side with. He vaguely remembers sharing a few words together, a contentedness warring with the state of his body at the time, and then nothing.

He wets his lips and tilts his head to examine Noctis closer. “Are you alright?” Ignis asked.

Noctis rolled his eyes with a huff and flopped over beside him like a child. “Of course, that’s the first thing you ask,” Noctis said, but he didn’t sound upset, more disgruntled than anything. “I’m perfectly fine, you’re the one who was really injured.”

“Good thing I had you to come to my rescue.” The soft teasing at his own expense is a small price to pay for Noctis’ annoyance shifting to a familiar smirk.

“I’d always come to your rescue, Iggy.” The smirk shifts to a quiet, honest smile. “Always.” He still looked concerned as he ran his free hand down the new scars on Ignis’ arm. “Would you let me use another potion?”

Noctis knows that he’s plenty capable of doing what he wants, but the fact that he still asks Ignis these things reminds Ignis of how much his lover cares about Ignis’ opinion. He may not always listen, but he asks.

The numbness in his arm is still strong, but the Lichtenberg pattern that had crept towards his hand has faded some since it first marred his flesh. Likely a hi-potion will take care of any lingering effects but Ignis is hesitant to use a resource that they're running low on when he can allow the wound to heal after a night's rest. "I'll be right as rain tomorrow," Ignis reassured.

Noctis sent him a skeptical look, his other hand not currently holding Ignis' reached up to cup Ignis' face. "Promise me that if it still hurts in the morning you'll use another potion," Noctis said.

Any reluctance he had about using a potion wilted under Noct's pleading face. “If it will assuage any fears you might have about my well-being, I promise.”

The victorious grin he received made his heart flutter violently in his chest. He tugged Noctis’ hand closer to him until Noctis picked up on his desire and shuffled closer until he could plaster himself to Ignis’ side. He carefully laid his head against Ignis’ chest and let out a content sigh. “Wake me if you need me?”

“I always need you.”

A muffled whine was buried against his chest. “Sap,” Noctis whispered like it was a secret how much they cared about each other.

Ignis only pressed a kiss as well as he could against Noctis’ head.

#ignoct #ignoct fic #ffxv fic #ignoct 2023 gift exchange #gift fic #protective ignis #protective noctis #bamf!Noctis #fluff #hurt/comfort #my fanfic #my fic #fanfiction #ffxv fanfic #final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv fic

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