#i’m just working later shifts and missing meds

[motheyes]

i’m not doing anything dumb btw. i’m literally laying in bed in the dark. i’m getting sleepy i just feel delusional

[lewisvinga]

not the same | charles leclerc x reader x alexandra saint mleux

summary; due to her being in med school, there is a lack of y/n at races and social events which makes fans upset. all it took was for her to distance herself to make charles and alexandra realize what they were missing is her

fc: phoebe dynevor

word count; 831

warnings; cursing maybe

all works taglist; @goldenmclaren @namgification @c-losur3 @minkyungseokie @lavisenri @ollieshifts

note; requested ! made it so reader is in med school instead of a doctor bc like ages n such lolll n decided to mix in a bit of writing lol

masterlist !

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a few months later …

lilymhe uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; the face of someone who finally finished her exams] [caption 2; party time 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️]

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Alexandra couldn’t help but sigh deeply as she replayed Lily’s story. She hadn’t seen Y/n’s face in ages. After breaking up with Alexandra and Charles, the med student seemingly deleted all social media accounts.

Neither tried to contact her for fear of pushing her away even more. They never confirmed their break up but it’s not like the public speculated it. Due to her being a medical student and prioritizing her studies, Y/n rarely attended races or public events . Charles and Alexandra were never upset about that.

They always encouraged her to study so she could get closer to achieving her dreams instead of missing a potentially important class to attend events. Even then, their dynamic worked perfectly even if in the public eye she was never around.

She was like the missing puzzle piece to complete Alexandra and Charles.

The Ferrari driver noticed his girlfriend's silence after leaving yet again another event. He knew what she was thinking about.

“You miss her too.”

His words caused Alexandra to snap out of the trance she was in. She let out a deep sigh followed by a nod. “She graduates soon too.”

“Do you think giving her space was the right idea?”

“I mean, I didn’t want to drive her further away,” She sighs, fiddling with the gold bracelets on her wrists. “But we should’ve tried harder. I miss her.”

“I miss her too,” Charles mumbled, running his hands through his hair. A silence fell upon the two, a silence that was once filled with Y/n’s mumbles and rants about her studies and the cool facts she learned. One thing was for sure, they both wanted her back.

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Alexandra adjusted the glasses resting on her nose as she walked down the streets of Monaco. She was meeting up with Charles in the shopping center since he needed a lot of help picking out clothing.

She wasn’t paying attention when she suddenly bumped into someone. The small yelp coming from the person sounded all too familiar.

She lifts the glasses up from her eyes and gasps. “Y/n?”

“Alexandra!” Y/n exclaimed in shock. She had a smile on her face, the very same smile that made Alexandra’s heart flutter, which fluttered even more when she was pulled into a hug.

“I-How-“ Alexandra stuttered as she hugged her back. She cleared her throat before continuing, “How have you been?” She hid a frown as the girl in her arms pulled away.

“Good. I’ve been searching for a dress for graduation and I-“

“Y/n?”

Both turned around and spotted the familiar green eyes of the Monegasque. Y/n shyly smiled and waved as Charles walked up to the two. “H-How have you been?” He asked, quickly glancing at Alexandra.

“Good, good.” Y/n sighed, shifting from one foot to another. “I was just telling Alex that I’m searching for a dress for graduation. Lily was supposed to help but she bailed on me.”

Alexandra hadn’t heard that nickname coming from that sweet voice in ages. It made her heart skip a beat once again. Before she could respond, Charles quickly spoke. “Why don’t you join us? She’s helping me upgrade my closet and I know you have good taste. We can help you with your dress.”

Y/n raised her eyebrow at his words and Alexandra’s frantic nods. “About time you’re upgrading your closet. That was my biggest complaint! Just never had the time to go shop for you.” She huffed. “But I’ll take you up on that-“

“Come back to us.” Alexandra couldn’t hold back any longer. Not only did she shock both Charles and Y/n, she even shocked herself. “We miss you, amor. You complete us.”

The Ferrari driver was quick to agree. “We don’t care what strangers on the internet say. We only care about you, chérie.” His eyes had a hopeful glint as he watched Y/n furrow up her eyebrows, a sign that she was thinking deeply. “Come back to us, please.”

It was silent for a moment, no one caring that they were still in the middle of the sidewalk near the shopping center. They didn’t pay any mind to the people rushing around them. Their full attention was on each other.

Y/n let out a sigh which made both Charles and Alexandra panic for a moment before seeing the faint smile on her glossed lips. “I’ve missed you both.” Her whisper resulted in the other two sighing in relief.

“Although Lily’s support, and even Alex’s, was great,” She took a step closer to them. “It was nothing like yours. It wasn’t Alexandra making me a cup of tea. It wasn’t Charles softly playing piano to help me focus. It’s not the same. I’ve missed you both.” Her lips curled into a smile that matched both Alexandra’s and Charles’ wide smiles as they each grabbed one of her hands.

“And we’ll never let you go again, chérie.”

“It’s the three of us, always and forever, amor.”

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liked by yourusername, lilymunihe, and others !

charles_leclerc&alexandrasaintmleux: one step closer to achieving your dreams. we’re so proud of you, our sweet girl ❤️

tagged; yourusername

yourusername: 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

yourusername: i love you💗💗

charles_leclerc: i love you❤️

alexandrasaintmleux: and i love you💝

username: MY PARENTSSSS

username: y/n so smartie pants i love her 😢

lilymunihe: ONTO RESIDENCYYYYY

yourusername: YEAHH!!!!!🎉🎉

username: mis amores 😭❤️

username: how’d charles get 2 pretty gfs he’s winning

username: EXACTLYYY like i cant even get 1 😭

username: one good w the arts n the other w biology, both gorgeous asf, he’s winning

username: y/n they could never make me hate u

lewishamilton: congratulations! we’re all proud of your hard work!

yourusername: thank you, lewis🥹

username: my fave throuple itw❤️‍🩹

[nope-body]

.

[chimcess]

Nachash || jhs

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader (ft. Taehyung) Genre: Supernatural AU, Demon!Hoseok, Med Student!Reader, Smut, One night stand, Angst, Horror AU, Incubus! Hoseok, 90s AU, Yandere!AU Rating: 18+ (don’t interact if you’re a minor) Word Count: 21.4k+ Summary: After the loss of both of her parents, Y/N decided to sell their home in Florida and move back to New York City, a place that she has little memories of despite 10 years of living in Harlem. Her world begins to shift, and she starts to lose sight of dreams and reality, and at the center of it all is Hoseok, a sweet man who gives her a strange sense of deja vu, but she can’t help but wonder if he is who he says he is and why a strange bar keeps popping up in her nightmares. Warnings: Strong language, bad medical terminology (I tried), Hoseok has a demon side (like physically different), main character (somewhat) death (graphic), graphic violence, reader slowly losing her mind, heavy religious themes in a large chunk of this, explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, rough sex, manhandling, hard dom Hoseok, so much blood, low-key a yandere but not really, blood play, blood drinking, begging for life, extreme emotional manipulation, growling, over stimulation, unprotected sex (wrap it up), DARK ENDING, dubious consent (mind control/mood control/literally cannot leave Hoseok's presence), reader is severely mentally ill by the end of this, demonic possession, Stockholm syndrome, this is not a cute demon romance, read at your own risk, stopping here since there’s a lot just let me know if I missed anything A/N: After posting a teaser for this fic two years ago, I finally got around to finishing it! I’m still working on my smut skills, so I apologize in advance, but I hope you can get down with my favorite (and extremely evil) demon man. Happy Halloween (or, to my fellow Pagans, Happy Samhain)!

Prologue || Listen to the Playlist || Cross posted on AO3: here

Nachash (noun) "snake; serpent". Derived from the Hebrew root n-ch-sh.

July 1997

"How are you feeling?"

I sighed, pulling open another box. Unpacking was always the worst part of moving, like some cosmic joke designed to break you down piece by piece. Plates stared back at me from the box, and I clenched my jaw. The one on top was chipped—another thing on my growing list of replacements. I pulled it out and set it aside, determined to deal with it later. The rest of the plates went away in the cabinet. The broken one would be tossed.

"I don't know," I confessed. "Mom died. I'm everywhere."

My brother's hum of acknowledgment was all I heard. Miles had always been a quiet, distant sort, barely speaking to our parents. Their deaths hit him hard, but more so with Dad than Mom. Dad had been the stable one, while Mom was a relentless storm—never satisfied, constantly pushing, always demanding. To her, a doctor and a lawyer weren't enough. Miles had always seen her as aggressive, unyielding, and ever discontented. And Dad? Well, his complacency had its own way of grating.

Miles had moved to Oregon right after graduating from FSU, never looking back. We'd made the trek to see him a few times, but he'd never returned the favor. My stint in New York had mended our relationship somewhat. He visited frequently and spent his summers with me, and after Dad passed, he made a point to see Mom at least once a year. I didn't mind the trips to Portland; my Jacksonville home had become his family's vacation spot.

"So am I," he said, his voice betraying a hint of fatigue.

They'd been at each other's throats, arguing constantly, with his wife loathing Mom. Yet, I knew Miles held some affection for her despite their tumultuous relationship. He'd never truly made her proud, and that haunted him. I understood, but when I moved back home, the dynamics shifted. Mom used me as a weapon against Miles, making me the favored child, the one who came back. Miles was the ungrateful one who'd married the wrong woman.

Mom always blamed Trinity for Miles' "bad attitude." Dad knew better. I knew better.

"So," Miles shifted gears, "when can we come and visit?"

I smiled, "I'll be out there for Thanksgiving and Christmas. So maybe next summer?"

"That's a long wait."

I chuckled, "Well, Rory starts school this year and Trinity's pregnant. You're just as busy as I am."

I'd been the one with the most on my plate for years. Mom, a real estate agent, rarely left home, while Dad ran a plumbing company. When Miles went to college, I was knee-deep in medical school applications. During my residency, Miles was grinding through law school. When I moved back to Florida, I was buried in ICU shifts while he graduated and started his own practice. He met Trinity, and the two became inseparable. Mom despised her, but I saw how they brought out the best in each other. My career-driven life had left me disconnected, and while Mom reveled in it, I resented it.

Kids changed everything for them. Aurora was their miracle baby. Trinity had struggled with fertility for years, and when they finally had a child, it was as if their world had transformed. My brother was spent, and Mom's resentment boiled over. She was always bitter that they hadn't uprooted their lives back to Florida for the grandchild. By then, Miles didn't care. He'd made the trips for Dad but after Mom's cruel comments about Trinity's weight and their daughter being "too pretty" to be her granddaughter, Aurora never set foot in the family home again.

"Aurora is driving me crazy," Miles groaned. "She won't stop talking about the baby."

"As a big sister, I can tell you she's just being a normal kid."

"I know that," I could almost hear his eye roll. "I'm just worried. It's still early, and I don't want her hopes to get too high. Trinity's scared of another miscarriage."

It would be her sixth.

"Try to stay positive, bub," I bit my lip, surveying the cluttered room. I'd never finish today. "If it happens, it happens. But don't go into it expecting the worst."

"Between Mom and this…" He trailed off.

I understood his fear. Trinity was a few years older than me, and her anxiety was palpable. At 38, any pregnancy brought its own set of worries. Last I heard, Trinity was considering getting her tubes tied if this one didn't make it. The heartache was becoming unbearable.

"Hey," I kept my tone gentle, knowing that riling him up wouldn't help. "Keep your head up. Her next appointment is soon. Ensure she's sticking to bedrest, and you'll be fine."

"What if it happens again?"

My heart broke for him. Miles had always been the rock, the one who seemed unshakeable. Seeing him this vulnerable starkly contrasted with the angry kid he'd been in high school. Mom had pushed his buttons mercilessly, and I had vague memories of our squabbles, but they paled compared to the constant battles he faced with her.

I wondered if he ever grasped how I felt. He always thought Mom liked me more, but it was more about her being able to overlook me. While he fought for her attention, nothing I did ever really mattered. It was like a fog followed me, obscuring me from their view. Sometimes, it would lift, and Mom would acknowledge me, but then it would return, and I was forgotten.

"You'll get through it," I assured him.

We chatted a bit more. Aurora was excited about kindergarten and had picked out new uniforms. She was obsessed with Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood, and her new backpack reflected that. She'd even given her Prince Wednesday stuffed animal to the baby. It was everyday family life, but the emptiness in my chest grew. I longed for laughter and the innocent joy of children in my home.

"Trinity's calling me," Miles said, his voice muffled by distance.

"I'll talk to you later. Love you."

"Love you too, sissy."

I smiled faintly, "Later."

He hung up before I could say anything else. I glanced around the room, eyes narrowing at the boxes that seemed to taunt me with their mere existence. All of them were my own—mainly books, a few other odds and ends. The sadness that gripped me was relentless. I'd always had the most demanding job, the tightest schedule, and the deepest insecurities. Miles was angry, and I was desperate to be seen, so much so that I followed every command without question. Now, here I was, alone, surrounded by regret.

Dating felt like a cruel joke. My time in New York had alienated me more than anything else. That fog of invisibility from my childhood had returned with a vengeance. Coworkers would barely look at me for over a second; people on the street seemed oblivious to my presence and dates. They always ended badly. They weren't evil men but would forget my name within seconds. It felt like I wasn't real, like I existed on some other plane.

The only person who seemed to remember I existed anymore was my brother and his family. Dad's Alzheimer's had robbed him of any memory of us before he passed. Mom, too incoherent at Hospice, never stayed awake long enough to acknowledge my presence. Sometimes, it felt like Miles would momentarily forget me, only for my name to pop into his mind at predictable intervals—like clockwork, only calling on specific days and times, usually if he was planning a trip. It upset me more than I could recall, but now I wondered why.

"This place won't unpack itself," I muttered aloud.

I'd talked to myself so much it felt almost normal. I knew I needed to make friends, that without connections, I'd end up as lonely as my father, but the idea seemed futile. No one saw me clearly. No one ever had. When I searched my memories for anyone who had seen me, I came up empty. No one had ever really seen me. No one ever would. Instinctively, I knew this despite the facade of normalcy I tried to maintain. I had a job, a family, a house. I wasn't haunted. Or… maybe I was just being childish. I was simply forgettable, unremarkable. This I knew.

"I exist," I whispered, the words reverberating loudly in the stillness of my apartment.

The silence that pervaded my life mocked me with its omnipresence.

"How the hell do you get lost in a bar?"

"It's a lounge, sha," came a voice behind me.

What a peculiar dream. I took a bite of my sandwich, returning to the rude awakening that morning. I rarely remembered my dreams, if I had them at all. But last night had been different. I'd found myself in a dimly lit room with a man I couldn't recall clearly, dressed in white and speaking with an accent I couldn't place. I woke up before anything significant happened. The dream had been woefully uneventful.

The floor was almost eerily quiet tonight. Aside from the constant beeps and monitors scattered around and George Gilmore in room 11 watching football, no one spoke. The nurses here seemed less lively than I was accustomed to, their faces vacant, their words few. I kept to my small office most of the night, avoiding their station.

We'd had one death so far—a patient with a DNR who suffered a stroke shortly after midnight. Another woman had been pronounced brain-dead an hour ago. We'd wait until tomorrow to pull the plug, so her daughter could say goodbye. I didn't count her in my tally. The night crew had a way of seeing me even less than the others, and I didn't like them much.

"Hello, Doctor."

I jumped, startled. At least he had the decency to look sheepish. My irritation took me by surprise. I wasn't typically agitated; my feelings were either muted or overwhelming. He pushed his hair back, revealing messy chocolate brown locks, and held a clipboard stained with dubious marks.

"Sorry," he mumbled, shifting awkwardly under my gaze. I was already weary of his presence. "I was told you were new and thought I should introduce myself before leaving for the night. I'm Damon Glass, one of the anesthesiologists."

"Y/N Y/L/N," I replied, my voice flat and uninviting. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," he smiled, showing a gap between his front teeth that reminded me of my father's. It was a rare sight among people my age. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to come to me. Dr. Whitlock is on the floor, and I believe Morgan Fletcher is on call."

I nodded, appreciating the information but ready for him to leave. My distaste had faded, but I preferred brevity in conversations, especially with outsiders. I disliked the feeling of interacting with them. It was why I preferred dealing with the nearly dead; they rarely spoke, and when they did, I knew they'd be too medicated to remember much. The families were more accessible to handle than the ones back in Florida.

It was odd how my thoughts could veer into such morbid territories. Almost as morbid as my enjoyment of overseeing dying patients. It was not as macabre as my unbidden glee at my mother's death alongside my brother, but it ranked high on my list of flaws.

"Have a good night," I said, returning to my computer to refresh my emails.

Dr. Glass seemed to take the hint, leaving with an awkward smile and wave.

August 1997

I stood outside the door, the muffled sounds of grief seeping through the walls like a relentless, jagged current. The family's sorrow was palpable, a heavy fog that followed me down the hallway. I hoped to catch them in a better moment, but the cruel truth of this place was that better moments were rare. With a resigned breath, I raised my hand and knocked. The room fell silent, and a strained voice called out, allowing me to enter.

Elizabeth Fraiser had lived a life filled with grace and elegance. Once a dancer whose feet had carried her across Europe's stages, she met her husband in Paris and married him there. They had settled in New York, where her days of ballet had given way to a quieter role as a ballet instructor in Jersey. She had raised a family, and her pride in her children was as evident as her passion for dance. She spoke of them with a joy that contrasted sharply with the emptiness of my own mother's words.

Now, Elizabeth was in the late stages of lung cancer. Her family had clung to the hope of letting her pass away at home, but the relentless pneumonia and ceaseless pain had pushed them to make the difficult decision to admit her here. Her condition had worsened sharply today, and her family was struggling to cope with the harsh reality.

"Good afternoon," I said softly, a gentle murmur in the oppressive silence.

"Nice to see you," Elizabeth's oldest son, Elijah, managed a weak smile. We both knew he wasn't fond of doctors, but he tolerated me because I didn't overstay my welcome. "Mom's been sleeping for a while."

I stifled a sigh. Her body was crumbling, and delivering bad news was never easy. The small comfort was knowing she would soon feel nothing at all. We planned to increase her morphine dosage and withdraw all other medications. Her family would need to agree, but I wasn't too concerned. Mary, her daughter, had debated extending her mother's life with her brothers.

"We're really at the end, aren't we?" Mary's voice was strained, her husband's arm around her for support. Among them, she was the calmest, but the edges of her composure were frayed. Her eyes were red, testimony to her unrelenting tears. "Will she be in pain?"

I explained our focus on alleviating her suffering. She would be less coherent in the coming days but occasionally rouse enough to interact with them between doses. We aimed to ensure she had the utmost comfort and relief in her final days. The youngest Percy took the news hardest and had to excuse himself. I held Mary's hand, appreciating the warmth of human connection. I prided myself on my bedside manner.

"I know home care wasn't ideal for you," I broached delicately, aware of their crowded lives and young children. "But I'm offering it as an option. Respite care is also available, though I understand it was stressful before. It's worth discussing."

Elijah shook his head firmly. Mary hesitated, but her husband's reminder to care for herself and their baby swayed her. Percy's wife raised concerns about her own health, cementing the decision. Elizabeth would remain with us in her final days. It was probably for the best—she was too frail and in too much agony without constant medication.

"Let me know if you need anything," I said, glancing at the family. The nurses are always available, and I'm on call until six. Is there anything I can get you before I leave?"

"Mom needs a bath," Percy reentered the room. A nurse had come by earlier, asking if we were ready to step out. Let them know they could come in."

The rest of my shift dragged on. Other families were terse and uncommunicative, and their responses were minimal. I understood their grief, but it did little to ease my weary spirit. The nurses seemed as disinterested in me as ever. I had long since given up trying to connect with them.

The air outside was crisp, almost biting. I walked to the subway, the city traffic too maddening to endure. I'd trade bumper-to-bumper frustration for the quirks of the subway any day. Last week, a man in a bunny costume rapped at six in the morning. The week before, a man argued with his reflection in the window. Last night, an elderly woman beside me commented on my disheveled appearance, lamenting that men didn't like that and worrying I'd die alone. I barely remember if I responded. I hated talking on the subway; her parting insult had stung me.

Tonight promised to be different. I left the hospital later than usual, after two code blues and an injury report for a nurse. Overdue paperwork and an insurance squabble later, it was past eight when I left. My walk was short, and the wait at the terminal was OK, but the train didn't arrive until 9:30. When I finally boarded, the car was almost empty.

Then a group of men entered. They were rowdy, pushing each other, their drunkenness a stifling cloud. I almost moved when they sat too close, but I didn't want to draw attention. I could feel their eyes on me. I clutched my bag tightly, fingers brushing the can of pepper spray hooked to its strap. I was almost home. Just three more stops.

"Hey," one of the men called out. I ignored him. "Hey, you."

I hated the subway.

"Leave her alone."

That voice caught my attention. I knew it—or thought I did. When I looked up, I was met with a stranger, yet his presence felt oddly familiar. He was striking, with tanned skin and sharp features that made his brown eyes stand out under the harsh fluorescent lights. He took the seat beside mine, and I didn't stop him. The men were back to their raucous laughter, and I was forgotten. I relaxed slightly, hoping to remain unnoticed.

"Sorry about them," he said, his warm and soothing voice a gentle tenor that evoked a sense of nostalgia. "Are you OK?"

I nodded, unable to meet his gaze. Something about him tugged at the edges of my memory, yet he wasn't a celebrity, and I was sure I'd never met him before. Perhaps we'd crossed paths on the subway? My brain was playing tricks on me.

"Yes," I said softly. "Thank you."

Despite myself, I stole glances at him. I had to remind myself to breathe when I ventured past his neck. He was slender, but there was a subtle strength beneath his clothes. If he noticed my scrutiny, he said nothing. He returned to his book, but I was convinced that his eyes were still on me when I finally looked away.

I jolted awake, my body wracked with shivers despite the suffocating warmth of the blanket. The room was deathly silent, save for the moonlight streaming through the window like a spotlight on a stage set for a performance I never auditioned for. I rolled over, trying to bury myself deeper into the cocoon of my blanket, but then I heard it—a voice, soft and faint, yet carrying an unsettling authority.

“Oh, Y/N,” the voice crooned, dripping with a sinister allure. “It’s time. Come to me.”

Confusion and dread clawed at my insides as I stumbled out of bed. The room was a far cry from my own—stone walls, thick and oppressive, casting shadows that seemed to dance with malevolent glee. The floor beneath my feet was icy, a stark contrast to the comfort of my bed. My nightgown, white and delicate, felt like a mockery in this alien environment.

This wasn’t my room.

The voice came again, seductive and commanding. “Y/N, come out, come out, now. I’m waiting for you.”

Compelled, I moved to the window. Below, in the moonlit expanse of the lawn, stood the man from the subway. His face was eerily illuminated, his head tilted back as if inviting me to join him in the darkness below. His eyes—glowing a brilliant gold—seemed to reach out to me, promising unspeakable things if only I would take the leap.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away. He raised a hand, crooking a finger in a silent invitation. It was as if an invisible thread was pulling me toward him. Entranced, my feet moved on their own accord. Barefoot, the cold stone beneath me was a cruel contrast to the warmth I’d just left behind. I wandered through hallways and passages that felt simultaneously foreign and intimately known, descending into the shadows where he waited.

As I emerged onto the lawn, his smile made me shiver. He approached, his fingers brushing the side of my face—teasing, tantalizing, yet never quite touching.

“I’ve waited for you for so long,” he murmured, his voice a velvet caress. “So very long. And now, now you’re mine.”

A fragment of my mind screamed in protest, shouting that I didn’t belong to him, that I didn’t even know who he was or why I was here. But a deeper, more primal force tugged at me, pulling me closer until I was nearly touching him. His presence was unsettlingly soothing, and I took a breath, feeling the heat of his gaze.

“That’s right, my lamb, come closer,” he coaxed.

An overwhelming longing surged through me—irrational, illogical, yet so profound that I couldn’t resist. I needed him to touch me, to make the connection complete. I tilted my head to the side, exposing my neck to the moonlight.

He responded immediately, his fingers trailing along my throat, their cool touch sending shivers through me. I gasped, my body lighting up with each delicate brush.

“More,” I heard myself plead, pressing closer.

“Say it,” he demanded, his arms enveloping me in a possessive embrace. “Who do you belong to?”

“You. I’m yours.”

He cradled my head in his hand, leaning in. His lips were smooth against my skin, but his teeth were sharp as they pierced through flesh. I screamed as he drank deeply.

I awoke with a start, sitting up in bed, my hands clutching at my throat, searching for any sign of injury. The skin was intact, unbroken. I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm my racing heart that felt as though it might burst from my chest.

The lamp flickered on with a click, casting a harsh, unwelcome light that made me squint and shield my eyes. Grabbing my robe and a cup, I shuffled out of the room, the chill of the hallway hitting me like a slap. I closed the door quietly behind me, trying not to disturb the oppressive silence that hung heavy in the air. The bathroom, bathed in the sickly fluorescent glow, was as deserted as I’d hoped.

I filled my cup halfway with water from one of the sinks, then leaned against the cold, sterile tiles, watching my reflection in the mirror as I took slow, deliberate sips. The dream—the one that had shaken me awake—felt so unnervingly real.

I traced the line of my neck with trembling fingers, the blue vein just beneath the surface. What kind of twisted message was my mind trying to send me with that nightmare? It had been a full-on gothic horror—a relic of some crumbling English manor, not the kind of place I ever imagined myself visiting, unless I was buried in a pile of classic literature.

And him. The monster. Even now, as I closed my eyes, I could still see his face—a blend of dark allure and cruel beauty. His eyes, oh, those eyes. They’d held me in thrall, made me willing to surrender to any demand he made. I could almost feel his cold touch, see his smile that promised both ecstasy and agony.

Wasn’t the whole vampire-mother-stuff supposed to be a metaphor for sex? Maybe that’s what my subconscious was trying to shove in my face—sex, or the glaring void where it should have been in my life.

I studied my flushed reflection, feeling the heat in my cheeks. I shook my head, trying to shake off the nightmare’s grip.

The man sat next to me again. It had been a week since I last saw him, and my body still reacted to his presence. Today, I admired his chiseled jawline and elongated face. He was an exquisite oval with a strong profile. This time, he caught me looking and smiled shyly.

"I'm Hoseok."

The name sent a shiver, stirring something familiar and unsettling. I quickly brushed off the uneasy feeling. It was probably my own insecurity.

"Y/N," I replied, unable to tear my gaze away from him.

He resumed reading, and I focused on crocheting a stuffed rabbit for my nephew. Miles had called that morning to update me on Trinity's appointment. The toy wasn't perfect—far from it—but I wanted to give it a try.

"How would you feel about dinner?" Hoseok's voice broke through my thoughts.

I paused my knitting. "I enjoy dinner. Who doesn't?"

He chuckled, a rich, velvety sound that made me blush. "Cheeky."

I bit my lip, unsure if it was a compliment. I felt a pang of embarrassment, struggling to maintain my composure. The first date I'd been asked on since undergrad, and I was fumbling. Miles would have a field day.

"Would you like dinner with me?"

I hesitated. "Yes."

Hoseok's laughter resonated deeply within me, and I felt a jolt of warmth as he slid closer, his knee brushing against mine. He was impossibly warm. Instinctively, I shifted away, uncomfortable with his proximity. There was something off about him, an unsettling vibe that I couldn't quite place.

But then he smiled, and that soft, disarming grin evaporated all my doubts. He was dazzling. My eyes fluttered shut as his cologne enveloped me, weakening my knees. I had to remind myself to breathe. He was captivating.

"Do you like Italian?" he asked, his voice deeper now.

I nodded, struggling to steady my breath. Panic and embarrassment churned within me, but I couldn't ignore the physical response. My mind was flooded with inappropriate thoughts of Hoseok, vivid and intrusive. I gasped, feeling a flush of heat I hadn't experienced in a long time. 

"Does two weeks work?"

Snapping out of my daze, I looked at Hoseok and nodded. 

"I'm off on the 27th."

He smiled, and I stared at his teeth longer than necessary. They seemed different—sharper, perhaps, with redder gums. I blinked, reassured that they were just as I remembered. My sleep deprivation must be getting to me.

"Meet you here?"

We agreed to meet at six. I'd catch the 5:30 train to ensure I arrived before him. As the subway pulled into my stop, I waved goodbye and stepped out, only to realize I hadn't asked him where we were going. The thought lingered until the following day.

The voice is louder now, sharper, as if it’s cutting through the fog of my half-sleep. “Y/N? I’m waiting for you. Come to me now.”

I hear it, feel the tug of it dragging me towards him, but fear clamps down on me like a vice. My bare feet are numb on the cold, wet grass as I stumble through the twisting maze of hedges, trying to escape the invisible force that pulls me like iron to a magnet.

My breath hitches, coming fast and uneven, as I sprint around corners, the long white gown tangling around my legs and tripping me up. I’m not sure anymore if I’m searching for a way out or if I’m trying to find him.

I turn another corner, my ankle twists and pain shoots through my leg as I crash into an open space—a small, white fountain sits in the middle, surrounded by benches.

Through the flickering light of the moon dancing on the water, I see him. Not a figment of my imagination, but there he is, standing as he promised, waiting.

Hoseok walks towards me with a slow, deliberate grace. He bends, lifting me effortlessly from the mess of my tangled gown and into his arms. I feel a peculiar sense of completeness as he sits on a bench, cradling me like a precious artifact.

“Were you bringing me your gift? Or were you trying to run from me?” His voice is soft, almost tender, and yet it cuts through me. I open my mouth to speak, but no sound comes. I’m lost, adrift in confusion.

I’m mesmerized by his flawless beauty. My fingers move of their own accord, reaching towards his face. That smile returns, and I see the satisfaction in his eyes.

“You may touch me.” His lips part slightly, and I press my fingers against them. His tongue flicks out, wrapping around my fingertip and drawing it into his mouth. Before I can react, I feel a sharp bite.

I gasp as he licks the blood that wells up from the small wound. “A small treat,” he murmurs. “That’s why you came, isn’t it?”

I find myself nodding, helpless under his gaze.

He licks my finger one last time, savoring the taste before swallowing. “They told me you’d be extraordinary, worth every moment of waiting. Yet, your taste is beyond anything I ever dreamed.”

My body reacts to his words and his touch—still innocent but making my skin feel like it’s stretched too tight, like I might explode. I let my head fall back, exposing my neck to him as his tongue traces a path up the sensitive skin.

And then he bites.

I bolt awake, heart pounding as if it might burst from my chest. I fumble in the dark, reaching for the light switch, feeling profoundly alone with Rose away for the weekend.

I throw off the covers and stagger to the mirror, desperately checking my neck. There’s nothing there, no sign of the bite.

A cold shiver runs down my spine. I grab a blanket and a book, and huddle in the hall lounge, surrounded by the harsh light of every lamp and the incessant flicker of the television, trying to drive away the lingering shadows of the nightmare.

September 1997

I eased into my seat, the familiar weight of my bag pressed to my left side and draped an arm over it as if to claim it for my own. It was the first night off from the relentless grind of being on-call since mid-August and the first real night out in years. I’d never been much for the party scene, and medical school had only sharpened that aversion. The last time I went out for drinks was nearly six years ago, a fleeting memory of bar hopping that I’d abandoned early, too exhausted to keep pace with my friends.

Tonight, however, felt different. There was a nagging sense that I was misremembering that long-ago night, like a foggy half-remembered dream where something vital was missing. My life in New York had become a blur of medical texts and sleepless shifts, the grueling 24-hour days erasing the finer details of my existence. My final year had been a carousel of discomfort, but the specifics eluded me, lost in exhaustion. Perhaps a creep of some sort, some misguided doctor with a name I couldn’t quite grasp—maybe that’s what had soured my memory. 

I pulled out my phone and scrolled to find Hoseok’s contact. The old SeaTAC was still a relic of the past, but I clung to it out of stubborn habit. Despite its age, it was a lifeline to the outside world, a way to escape the pager’s relentless beeping. I longed for the day when I could toss the landline, but the cost of cell phone minutes constantly reminded me of its importance. With his endless chatter, Miles made sure I burned through those minutes with alarming frequency.

“Hello?” Hoseok’s voice was silky, a comforting balm after a long stretch of clinical detachment.

“Hey,” I breathed, trying to keep my voice steady. “Just got on.”

“See you soon,” he said, his tone warm and reassuring. I could almost picture the smile on his face, and it made me smile in return. His words seemed more benign over the phone, starkly contrasting the intensity of our recent encounters. “Save my spot.”

The car was beginning to fill up, Friday night revelers claiming their space, making it nearly impossible to save a seat. I promised I’d try, even as I felt the crushing inevitability of the crowd. His chuckle was soft, almost intimate. 

“Thank you, sweet girl.”

I bit my lip, the endearment both flattering and unsettling. A tiny voice in my head cautioned me, even though Hoseok had never used his terms of affection demeaningly. The voice grew louder when he wasn’t around, whispering warnings I couldn’t entirely dismiss. It was strange, this constant inner debate.

“I’m going to hang up,” Hoseok said, his voice a sensual murmur. I moved the phone away from my ear, puzzled by the seductive undertone. Was he implying something more?

Was I expecting more from tonight?

“I’m running up my minutes,” he laughed, breaking the spell of my thoughts.

“Oh,” I blinked, snapping out of my reverie. “Sorry. See you in a bit.”

The recurring dreams of him were becoming a distraction. My nights were plagued with vivid, unsettling fantasies, leaving me restless and frazzled. I wiggled in my seat, pressing my thighs together to quell the unsettling arousal. Reality would surely disappoint, no matter how compelling he seemed in my dreams. I resolved to hold off on sex for now. I didn’t want to tarnish his allure with premature intimacy.

“Why did you want to be a doctor?” Hoseok asked, his fingers entwining with mine.

The wine started hitting, and the night air was crisp against my skin. Hoseok was the perfect gentleman; the evening was a beautiful respite from my routine. I leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body, and sighed.

“I wish I could say it was for noble reasons,” I said, my voice tinged with melancholy. “In truth, I just wanted my family to notice me. I thought graduating medical school would make them see me, but it never quite worked out that way.”

Hoseok hummed thoughtfully beside me. I turned my gaze away, feeling a strange mix of comfort and sadness.

“None of us are perfect,” he said after a pause, his voice low and contemplative. “I’ve made my share of mistakes, and my choices haven’t always been noble.”

I leaned closer, savoring his warmth and intoxicating scent. Despite my fatigue, the night felt lighter, almost magical. He was mesmerizing, and I was drawn to him in a way I hadn’t expected. 

“I have a hard time believing that,” I said with a soft grin, snuggling closer.

“Well,” he said, his arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me into his side. “You haven’t had me all to yourself yet.”

A shiver ran down my spine, a curious blend of fear and delight. The night had been a rollercoaster of emotions—enchantment and apprehension intertwined. Hoseok’s smile was disarming, melting away my unease, but I made a mental note to reflect on my feelings once I was alone. He seemed almost too perfect, and that nagging pit in my stomach grew again before vanishing. 

“I don’t want the night to end,” Hoseok whispered, his breath warm against my ear as we waited for the train. “I’m having such a good time.”

I smiled, “What kind of girl do you take me for?”

“When can I see you again?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine longing.

“Soon,” I promised. “I’m getting the next few weekends off now that the other fellowship student is starting. My supervisor is trying to get me off every Saturday.”

“It’s a good thing my boss is flexible,” Hoseok purred, causing my heart to race. “Otherwise, I’d never get to spend time with you.”

I wanted to be annoyed by his clinginess, to remind him I wasn’t his girlfriend, but instead, I found myself grinning. His words made me feel seen and appreciated. Despite the anxiety he sometimes stirred in me, I was eager to be close to him. He looked at me so intently that I was willing to overlook my reservations. Maybe it was just butterflies?

“Where do you work?” I asked, trying to divert my thoughts.

Hoseok was a bartender at a speakeasy in Manhattan, where he’d worked since it opened. He had hinted at it throughout the evening, teasing me with its obscurity. 

“It’s a smaller place,” he said amusedly. “You’ve probably never heard of it.”

“Try me,” I challenged, my heart pounding strangely.

“Dauphine.”

The name hit me like a jolt. Images of dimly lit corridors and crimson hues flashed in my mind. I was sure I’d never been there, but the name stirred a disquieting sense of déjà vu. The dream from July, the man from my dreams—there was a connection, but it eluded me. 

As we stood in the bustling, well-lit area, I edged away slightly, unsettled. Hoseok was a charming gentleman, but the name “Dauphine” had ignited an inexplicable dread. Despite his humor and warmth, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something—or maybe I was just afraid of what I might find.

I stole a furtive glance at him, and it felt as though I’d known him far longer than the scant time we’d spent together. His face was oddly familiar, like a recurring image in a dream half-remembered. I had met him before, somewhere.

“No, you haven’t,” his voice cut through the night like ice. It was cold, detached, far from the warmth he’d shown me all evening. A shiver snaked down my spine, and I forgot to breathe. His grip on me tightened as though sensing my legs would buckle beneath me. “You’ve never known me before.”

The fierce scowl on his face startled me. His eyes, glowing with an eerie golden light, seemed to burn through me. Everything about him felt otherworldly like he was something less than human. A fragmented memory of a man sitting alone at a bar surged up, only to dissolve into nothingness.

“I am Hoseok,” he whispered, his voice weaving a heavy spell over my senses. “I am your boyfriend. We’ve been together a long time, and we’re in love. You just tripped and hit your head.”

A sudden jolt of pain made me wince and try to pull away from him. 

“Does it hurt?” His voice was deceptively tender, and I sighed through the pain.

“Yes,” I groaned, rubbing my forehead. “Does it look bad?”

Hoseok’s grin was unsettling, a blend of fake sympathy and amusement. 

“You were lucky this time. Just a barely noticeable red mark.”

I chuckled at my own clumsiness. I wasn’t usually this awkward, but my heel caught on a pavement crack. I gingerly rubbed my ankle and was relieved to find it unscathed. Even my heel had survived.

“Jeez,” I said, looping my arm through his. “I completely forgot what we were talking about.”

Hoseok’s smile broadened, clearly enjoying my disoriented state. I rolled my eyes and reached over to gently tap his chest. He responded by sticking out his tongue, which only made me scoff at his childishness.

“We were talking about work,” I said.

I nodded as if on autopilot. “How’s the bar?”

Hoseok worked at a swanky speakeasy in Manhattan, though I was trying to remember its name. Despite being together for what felt like ages, I had never been there. I was never one for bars, while Hoseok reveled in the place’s gothic charm. The name eluded me again as I tried to recall it.

“Tae’s excited,” he chuckled. “With Halloween around the corner, business will pick up.”

I hummed, my thoughts still lingering on the name. I had thought his boss was Tristan, but I must have misremembered. I shrugged off the nagging thought.

“You should stop by the bar,” I heard myself say, sounding oddly mechanical.

“Sounds fun,” he replied, his tone laced with a predatory edge.

Looking back on that night, it’s almost laughable how easily he swayed me. The way he possessed me was undeniable; soon, he would own every inch of me. Those dreams of him were his twisted way of showing love—how much he craved to touch me, to keep me bound to him. It’s sick and vile, and the thought of what we’d become makes me nauseous, yet to him, it’s love. 

“Let’s get you home,” he said, his arm wrapping possessively around my shoulders.

I remember leaning into his side, kissing his cheek as if I was floating. His presence was intoxicating. Even now, I can feel the ghost of his touch and his body's heat. It’s a twisted sort of longing I have for him. This place is cold and dark without him, without his reminders of how much he cares and wants me to scream for him. Here, time stands still, and life continues in a strange loop. I can’t say whether I’m alive or dead, but I know it no longer matters. Once I entered this world, my life ended and began anew. Hoseok made me feel both alive and dead simultaneously.

And as I write this, my heart aches for him. My fingers tremble at the thought of him returning to claim me again. The pain he inflicts makes my heart pound and my stomach clench. I miss him.

It both sickens and excites me.

October 19, 1997

My bones groaned and cracked like ancient floorboards beneath my weight as I fought to catch my breath. Sweat slicked my skin, and I began patting myself down, half-expecting to find something tangible to anchor me to reality. My surroundings slowly came into focus. The harsh fluorescent lights above stung my eyes, but their sterile brightness offered an odd comfort. I was at home, cocooned in thick blankets that had twisted themselves around my legs. The bed beneath me creaked with the effort of supporting my restless form. I sighed, flopping back down, trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare that still clung to me like a shadow.

The dreams had become relentless, evolving from vague echoes of past terrors into something far more insidious. These weren't fueled by mere fear but by an overwhelming, consuming desire that felt dangerously close to swallowing me whole. The weekends were the worst, and after seeing Hoseok, they had turned almost infernal. He was always there in my dreams, his skin smooth and flawless, his deep brown eyes burning into mine with an intensity that left me gasping for air.

Every time I closed my eyes, his image flickered behind my eyelids like a dark, seductive film. The scenes always ended the same way: I would climax, my body convulsing in a fevered rhythm, while I looked up to see his face contorted in ecstasy. His deep, guttural groans would reverberate through me as his grip tightened on my skin. He would finish inside me, and my spent body would collapse beneath him. He would drape himself over me, showering my chest with tender, lingering kisses. The setting varied—my bed, a chilling, unfamiliar void, or a dimly lit lounge—but the conclusion was always the same.

With a sigh, I fumbled for my phone, my fingers brushing the cool surface. An email from Hoseok awaited me, and a smile crept across my face despite the haze of exhaustion. He was the epitome of a perfect gentleman—never pushing beyond my boundaries, never demanding more than I was willing to give, always accommodating his schedule to mine. Even in matters of intimacy, something many men would aggressively pursue, he always respected my pace. In the hectic blur of the past month, we hadn’t had a moment alone. He hadn’t even broached the topic. As I thought about it, I couldn't recall the last time we'd been intimate outside of these dreams.

From: Hoseok Jung Subject: All Hallows Eve Date: October 19, 1997: 03:05   To: Y/N Y/L/N Good morning, love, I'm sorry for the early message, especially since this is one of your rare mornings off. I hope I didn't wake you. I'm heading home from work and couldn't stop thinking about you. Taehyung is throwing a simple Halloween party this year, and luckily, it falls on a Friday. Would you like to join me? I think it could be a lot of fun. I love you. Hobi

I grinned and began typing my reply.

From: Y/N Y/L/N Subject: RE: All Hallows Eve Date: October 19, 1997: 04:15  To: Hoseok Jung Hobi, Don't worry, you didn't wake me. I was tangled up in strange dreams and was deep asleep when your email arrived. Sadly, I doubt I'll fall back asleep anytime soon, so I plan on catching up on Buffy or Beyond Belief—whichever's on. Hopefully, I won't get stuck with reruns of Seinfeld, not really my thing. Lucky for me, I'm working mornings this week. I'd love to come to your party. Call me when you wake up. Love you, too. Y/N Y/L/N, M.D.   Palliative Care Physician, New York-Presbyterian Hospital

It barely registered that, to my knowledge, I had never said "I love you" to him before. I had never really pondered the oddity of our relationship. My memories of our time together were a disorienting blur, but I never questioned it. It wasn't entirely my fault—he had ensnared me, body and soul, and any unresolved threads might make it harder for him to maintain control. Regardless of our tangled history or how elusive it seemed; I was simply glad he wanted to see me at that moment.

I lay huddled in my bed, my body a coiled spring of anticipation, each nerve ending tingling with the foreboding that had stalked me all day. His voice had been a persistent whisper, a sultry hum that turned my name into a haunting lullaby. It was a melody wrapped in an insatiable longing, a caress of words that promised more than I dared to imagine.

Tonight, I wanted to resist. I tried to muster the strength to ignore the insidious pull, that relentless tug drawing me toward him like a moth to a flame. The very idea of defying him churned my stomach with a nauseous dread. But the threads of his influence were woven so tightly around me, it felt like trying to escape from silken chains.

Then it came, cutting through the murkiness of my thoughts like a scythe. His voice, now sharper, more insistent, shattered the fragile veneer of my resistance.

“Y/N. Come to me now.”

With a sudden jolt, the pretense of defiance evaporated. I threw off the blankets as if they were chains, leaping out of bed and flying through the darkened hallway. My feet barely touched the ground as I hurtled down the stairs, each step propelled by an unrelenting force, dragging me inexorably toward him.

He waited for me in the foyer, bathed in an eerie glow that made him look like an apparition from a fevered dream—or perhaps a nightmare. His smile was both welcoming and chilling, a promise wrapped in malice. When he took my hand, his lips brushed against my fingers with a cool, electric touch that set my entire body aflame.

The intensity of my reaction embarrassed me, but he tilted my face up to meet his gaze, shaking his head with a look of almost pity.

“Your blood knows what it wants, my lamb. You must let your mind follow.”

My face burned with fierce heat, but the compulsion pulling me to him was too overpowering to resist. He guided me through the meticulously manicured gardens to a secluded alcove framed by dense, sculpted hedges. He seated himself on a bench, drawing me onto his lap with a practiced grace that made me feel both cherished and helpless. His eyes, dark and unfathomable, never left mine, promising secrets I couldn’t begin to comprehend.

“Are you ready, my lamb?”

Without a second thought, I bared my neck to him. The desperate craving for the bliss and torment of his bite had consumed me completely; waiting was no longer an option.

He lingered, his tongue tracing a tantalizing path along the delicate skin of my throat. The sensation was almost unbearable, and I found myself begging with a voice that sounded alien, strained.

“Please.”

And then he bit.

I shot awake, my heart a frantic drum in my chest. I had fallen asleep hunched over my desk at the hospital, my neck stiff from the awkward angle. Rubbing away the ache, I cursed the book that had plagued me with such vivid nightmares. I needed to talk to my brother again; this couldn’t be anything but a cruel trick of the mind.

The glowing digits on my alarm clock mocked me with their late hour. I stood up, stretching and feeling my heartbeat slowly return to normal. I changed into a t-shirt and shuffled toward the bed, determined to banish the lingering unease.

As I passed the window, something froze me in place. I looked down into the parking lot and saw him standing under a flickering lamppost, his gaze locked onto mine with a predatory intensity that made my blood run cold.

It was Hoseok—or at least, it looked like him. But the resemblance was grotesquely twisted. His eyes glowed with an otherworldly light, a sickly luminescence that cut through the night like a malevolent beacon. His skin was peeling away in ragged strips, as if he were shedding himself like a decaying husk. This was no longer my Hoseok. He was a creature of nightmares, a monster forged from my darkest fears.

My fingers clung to the windowsill as I stared, my body paralyzed by the overwhelming urge to run to him, to give in to the magnetic pull of his presence. I watched as his lips moved, shaping a single word that seemed to echo through the chill of the night.

“Soon.”

I gasped, my breath catching in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the vision to vanish. When I opened them again, the parking lot was empty, the lamppost casting its pallid light over a sea of unmoving cars. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief, snatched my blanket and pillow, and stumbled back to the on-call room, desperate to escape the sinister call that still haunted the dark corners of my mind.

October 28, 1997

"What should I do?" the nurse asked, her name slipping from my mind like a shadow lost in the night.

"Give them some space," I replied, my gaze fixed resolutely away from the room across the hall. Elizabeth had just passed away, her DNR a cold, ironclad barrier that left no room for last-ditch efforts. Her family needed their final moments with her while we waited for the body to be transported. Mary was still wailing into her husband's chest, and Elijah looked like he'd been dragged through a storm, barely able to stand. Percy stood like a marble statue, his eyes glazed over while his wife clung to him. The sight of Percy’s frozen, unseeing expression twisted my gut in a way I couldn’t ignore. It reminded me too much of what I feared—and I needed to escape the suffocating atmosphere of grief.

"Should we get them out of the room?" another nurse asked, her thick southern drawl hinting at Memphis. "Seeing her like that can’t be good for their mental well-being."

I shook my head. "Let them have their last moments in peace. Offer condolences and check on them regularly."

I fiddled nervously with my ID card, the familiar unease gnawing at me. My wounds from the day seemed too fresh. Miles surfaced in my thoughts again, and I resolved to call my brother on my way home tonight. Hoseok wasn’t working tonight, so he wouldn’t join me on the subway.

"I'm going to check in with 211," I murmured, watching Percy leave the room, clutching his phone like a lifeline. "I’ll be back in 5-10 minutes to see if the family needs anything. Just make them as comfortable as you can."

"You got it, doc."

The subway ride home was a silent affair. My headache throbbed like a relentless drum, and my stomach churned uneasily. The day had been heavy with more deaths than usual. Elizabeth’s family had eventually calmed down, but their kindness on their way out hadn’t eased the knot in my chest. I knew their pain intimately.

I called my brother as I made my way to the subway. Despite his complicated feelings about our mother, he was always supportive. The conversation ended abruptly when Aurora entered the room, demanding his attention. Miles had never truly understood my emotions; I doubted he ever tried.

The short walk home from the subway was a blessing, though the cold night air bit at my skin. I was grateful for the proximity of my apartment, but the streets were alive with noise—tourists laughing, gang members shouting outside their apartment complexes. I was relieved to escape the chaos, though my street wasn’t entirely free of foot traffic. My old apartment in East Harlem had been more of a hustle, with late-night carpooling with a coworker whose name eluded me. I knew it started with an 'A,' but the memory only worsened my headache. I set the thought aside for another time.

After selling the family home in Florida and vacation properties scattered across the country, I’d managed to buy a house on Astro Row at 100th and 30th Street. It was an old building—too expensive for its size, and initially, it seemed far from beautiful. But over time, it grew on me. I loved the brownstones, the front porches, the grand trees, and the quiet streets. I couldn’t imagine leaving. Even the renovations I’d planned were postponed. The charm of the old place had won me over, and I’d made peace with its quirks. I even got along with my neighbor, a small but welcome relief.

Tonight was quieter than usual, and none of my neighbors seemed awake. I missed the old man at the end of the street who used to sit on his porch, sipping coffee and waiting for dawn. It was nearly 4:30 AM. I shrugged and continued; my mind focused on the comfort of my bed.

Fumbling for my keys, I cursed quietly when my pockets were empty. My purse, a cavernous mess of clutter, swallowed everything. As I dug through it, a sudden burst of laughter behind me made me freeze. Two women strolled down the sidewalk, their laughter echoing off the walls. They were both stunning, their pale skin glowing under the moonlight. One of them locked eyes with me, her gaze piercing through the darkness. She looked at me as if she’d seen a ghost, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew me.

"Hello," she said, her voice as light and tinkling as a bell.

"Hi," I replied, feeling strangely off-balance.

The other woman seemed perplexed. Her beauty was almost ethereal, with blonde hair as pale as her skin and eyes as dark as night. Her gaze swept over me with an unmistakable disdain, her teeth bared in a slight sneer. Yet, despite her apparent coldness, she was undeniably beautiful.

"How are you?" the first woman asked, her voice soothing.

"Fine," I responded, my throat dry. "And you?"

The nagging headache intensified as I tried to make sense of the encounter, a sense of déjà vu wrapping around me like a tightening noose. The women moved on, their laughter fading into the night, leaving me with a lingering unease that clung to me like the shadows of my dreams.

She studied me, her face a shifting canvas of emotions before settling into a look of genuine confusion. I tried to place her but struggled. There was something crucial I needed to remember, something just out of reach, but my mind remained stubbornly blank. A frantic urge to call Hoseok seized me.

The realization hit me like a cold slap. Why did I think I needed him? I tried to convince myself I could handle this alone. But deep down, I knew I needed him here. He could make this headache vanish, soothe the gnawing anxiety that had taken root in my chest. I missed him. I loved him. I needed him…

“What's your name?” she asked, her smile both disarming and unsettling, making my thoughts scatter like leaves in a storm.

“Y/N,” I replied, feeling dazed and disconnected.

“Cold night, Y/N,” she purred, her gaze never wavering. “You should get inside.”

I nodded absently, my words failing me as I fumbled with my keys. The blonde woman's giggle, filled with an eerie excitement, made me shiver. I wanted to retreat, to escape this strange encounter. I shoved the key into the lock, eager to shut out the unsettling night.

“Y/N,” the first woman’s voice halted me, her tone chillingly smooth. Neither of them had moved since they stopped. The blonde’s smile remained fixed, and I couldn’t bring myself to meet the other woman’s eyes. “Be careful out here. You never know who’s wandering around.”

I nodded, turning the doorknob, but her voice stopped me again.

“I work at a bar in Midtown,” she said, her words snagging my attention like a hook. I had always known she worked at a bar, but why was it important? “It’s called Dauphine. Ever heard of it?”

Yes, I wanted to say. That place haunted my nightmares, a dark shadow that clung to the edges of my memory. But I couldn’t piece together why. Hoseok would know. He’d make everything better. No, my mind screamed—he’d only make it worse. I couldn’t say how I knew this, but I wanted to listen to the little voice inside me tonight. Something was very wrong.

“You should come by sometime,” she offered. “We’re on 1st and East 54th in the far corner of the Diamond District. If you need anything, just ask for ‘Bootsy.’”

Bootsy…

“Are you okay with cherry liquor?” she asked.

I let go of the doorknob and turned to face them fully. I couldn’t meet either of their eyes. The sensation was all too familiar. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the answer I didn’t want to hear.

“Do you know Hoseok? He’s my boyfriend.”

The blonde hissed sharply. Bootsy gasped, her face a mask of surprise and something darker, more shadowy. It was clear that Hoseok was connected to these people, tangled up with my memories of New York, the root of all my confusion. I missed him. I loved him. I needed him…

No, I shook my head. Was that what he wanted me to believe? I wasn’t sure anymore.

“Yes,” Bootsy finally replied. “I’ve known him for many, many years.”

Before I could second-guess myself, I slammed the door shut and locked it. The blonde finally moved, stepping away from Bootsy and muttering something I couldn’t catch. She disappeared down the street, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts.

“What’s wrong with me?” I muttered through the door, my voice tinged with desperation.

Bootsy’s response came through with a sorrowful edge. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

I shook my head, my headache pounding with such intensity that I could barely keep my eyes open. “It’s him, isn’t it?” I asked, my voice breaking. “I don’t understand what’s happening. It’s like I remember things but not really, and everything goes blank every time he’s around.”

Bootsy’s eyes, a deep crimson, darted around nervously. They seemed to glow faintly, like a cat’s eyes in the dark. Her dark hair framed her face perfectly, glossy and sleek. Bootsy wasn’t human. What she was, I couldn’t say. But she was somehow tied to the nightmares that plagued me, and Hoseok’s shadow loomed larger than ever.

“He’s a demon,” she whispered hurriedly, her words laced with a fear that seemed almost tangible. “I can’t tell you exactly what he’s done. I’ve never known him to keep someone around for this long, but whatever you’ve done to make him want you seems to have spared your life. You should have died back in ’92 with your friend.”

A friend? Someone else had been involved? Hoseok was a demon? The fragments Bootsy offered were like pieces of a shattered mirror, reflecting a reality I could barely grasp. I believed her, though. I had no reason not to. My memories felt like they were being twisted, distorted by Hoseok’s manipulations.

Then I thought of the creature outside of the hospital and felt my knees go numb. I hadn't hallucinated anything. It was real. It was him. Oh my God.

“We can’t talk for long,” she said, a look of pained urgency on her face. “He won’t sleep for much longer.”

“What can I do?” I begged, clutching my head as if I could squeeze out the pain. It was unbearable. “God, it hurts.”

“Nothing,” Bootsy’s voice trembled. “Hoseok wants you, and he’s never lost a game. It doesn’t matter where you go or what you do; he will win. Whatever you’ve been doing has kept you alive this long, but I don’t know how much time you have left.”

Her words hit me like a tidal wave, crashing over me and dragging me under. I had been a pawn in Hoseok’s twisted game, my life manipulated by his cruel whims. What did he want from me? My body? My soul? The realization was suffocating.

“Go to Dauphine and find Taehyung,” Bootsy instructed, her voice carrying a chilling finality despite its almost maternal tone. “He had a soft spot for you back then. If you’re lucky, he might be able to change you, make you like us. That might be enough to satisfy Hoseok.”

Taehyung. The name cut through the fog in my mind like a beacon, easing the throbbing in my head, if only for a moment. He had haunted my dreams, his image vivid: a white button-up shirt, his gentle hands, his voice firm yet tender, saying he didn’t want to share me. He had left me in that bar, but the details were fuzzy—how or why I had ended up there was a blur. All I knew was that I was lost, and he had once been my guide.

She paused, her eyes darkening with a weighty empathy. “You’d be luckier if Taehyung agrees to end your life before the demon does. I wouldn’t wish this half-life on anyone, nor would I be glad to see you die, but those are your choices. I can’t guarantee you’ll make it through this.”

“What happened in ’92?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper, thick with desperation.

Bootsy shook her head, her expression darkening with sorrow. “He killed your friend and tried to lure you away. That's all I know, and I don't have time to explain the rest. The sun’s about to rise, and your demon will be waiting for you to fall asleep. Don’t fight it. Let it happen. If he knows you’re aware of him, he might decide to kill you.”

It felt wrong to just let it happen. What would this mean for me in the end? Would knowing about his influence change anything? I couldn’t be sure, but if I wanted to buy myself time, I had no choice but to take the risk. I needed answers, a plan, anything to regain control.

“Y/N,” Bootsy’s urgent voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. “Your memories won't come back unless he wants them to. Let it go. Either way you'll be dead.”

With those final, haunting words, Bootsy vanished as quickly as she had appeared. The weight of my predicament pressed heavily on my shoulders, my impending doom looming like a dark cloud. I stumbled back to the porch, unlocked the front door, and sought refuge in the sanctuary of my bed. Bootsy’s grim mantra echoed in my mind as I tried to push aside my troubling thoughts about Hoseok, grappling with the uncertainty that lay ahead.

He appeared to me then, in a vision that was both intoxicating and horrifying. His eyes sparkled with a predatory thrill, his touch setting my skin ablaze, igniting waves of pleasure that crashed over me with ruthless intensity. His worship was ceaseless, his lips warm and insistent, as if trying to devour every shred of my resistance. I was swallowed by him, lost in a whirlwind of passion that twisted the love I once felt (at least, I believed I felt) into something darker, more insidious. I missed him. I loved him. I needed him…

Bootsy’s words had struck me like a death knell, sealing my fate in an irreversible descent. She had unwittingly set my downfall into motion, transforming innocent affection into a ravenous lust that consumed every corner of my mind. When I awoke late in the evening, the decision to call off work for the rest of the week came with a grim resignation. The struggle to stay awake was in vain; it was becoming starkly clear how deeply Hoseok’s control had embedded itself within me. The inevitable was no longer a distant threat—it had already begun to unfold, dragging me into its dark embrace.

October 31, 1997

I tugged nervously at my skirt, my fingers trembling despite the cool night air that should have been a relief. The address that had arrived this morning was burned into my mind, glaring at me from the top of the paper—Dauphine, the bar Bootsy had mentioned. My plans were clear: find Bootsy, get directions, speak with this Taehyung, and figure out my options. But the gnawing truth was unavoidable—no matter what I did, it felt like my life was already slipping through my fingers.

Sleep deprivation had become my relentless tormentor. My eyelids felt heavy, weighted down by leaden exhaustion, and my attempts to feign illness to dodge work had morphed into a grim reality. It was a battle to stay awake each day, and I feared that simply making it to this bar would be a Herculean task.

I stared at myself in the mirror, trying to adjust the wig perched precariously on my head. I’d opted for a lazy Halloween costume—a half-hearted Cher from *Clueless*. The yellow plaid blazer was a thrift store find, the skirt a serendipitous discovery. But the wig made me look more like a grotesque caricature than a character. Frustrated, I yanked it off and tossed it onto the floor. I’d have to go without it.

Yawning, I fought the overwhelming urge to collapse back into bed. My cab was on its way, and I had to be ready. I gathered my essentials—purse, house keys, phone, and a spare outfit—preparing for a night that could very well be my last. I steeled myself for the confrontation, even if it felt like a hopeless, losing battle.

My daily struggle with myself had turned into a monotonous grind. My feigned illness had kept Hoseok at a distance, but it had only given me more time to spiral into despair over his influence. My mind was a battleground, where fragments of my past life clashed with the twisted desires he’d implanted in me. Every morning, I awoke to a gnawing need, a desperate craving for him that left me feeling sullied and repulsed.

I stepped outside and drew a shaky breath of the crisp night air. Calling my brother was both a comfort and a torment. There was a chance this could be the last time I spoke to him, and the thought tightened my chest like a vise. I fought back tears as I dialed his number.

“Hello?” Miles answered, his voice warm and familiar.

“Hey,” I forced a cheerful tone, though it felt hollow. “Still out Trick-or-Treating?”

“We just got back,” he said. “Rory wants to talk to you.”

My heart ached at the sound of my niece’s voice. “Hi, Auntie,” she said, her voice sweet as ever. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, baby,” I sniffled, fighting to keep my voice steady. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah!” Aurora’s excitement was a bright spot in my darkness. “I was Katerina, mommy was Miss Elaina, and daddy was Daniel Tiger.”

“That sounds amazing,” I wiped away my tears. “What about your baby brother?”

Aurora’s voice took on a scolding tone. “His name is Corbin, Auntie,” she said as though I should have known better. “He’s still in mommy’s belly, so he wasn’t anything. Mommy’s giving him candy.”

I laughed, though it was tinged with sadness. “How’s your mommy?”

“She says ‘Hi,’” Aurora replied. “We got the best candy! A lady was giving out big Starbursts. Daddy’s letting me have all the pink ones because I’m special.”

“You are special, sweet girl.”

A painful thought intruded—would Hoseok make them forget me if I asked him? The idea was almost too agonizing to bear. He’d kept me alive for five years, a perverse form of flattery that I struggled to appreciate. My self-loathing deepened as I thought about the life I was about to leave behind.

“Daddy says I have to go,” Aurora pouted. “Bye, Auntie.”

“Bye, Rory girl,” I choked out, my voice cracking as the tears welled up. “I love you.”

“Love you more,” Aurora’s sweet voice drifted through the line, a beacon of innocence in my storm of dread.

I gasped, the floodgates opening as I fought to keep my composure. “Impossible,” I managed to whisper, my throat tight with sorrow.

“Why?” she giggled, her innocent curiosity slicing through my resolve.

“Because,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, “I love you more than the world.”

Aurora’s laughter began to fade as she handed the phone back to Miles. The sound of her giggles and her mother’s laughter echoed in the background, a cruel reminder of the life I was about to lose. My heart clenched painfully at the thought of never hearing those sounds again.

“What’s up, sissy?” Miles asked, his tone tinged with concern.

“I was just heading out,” I said, forcing a tremulous cheerfulness into my voice. “Thought I’d call before my cab gets here. I’m leaving a little early.”

There was a heavy pause on the other end, a silence that spoke louder than words.

“Everything okay, Y/N? You sound upset.”

“No, no,” I hurried to reassure him, biting my lip to keep from sobbing. “Just tired. You know how it is.”

“You sure?” Miles pressed, his concern palpable. He was always too perceptive for his own good, but he never pushed too hard. I hoped he wouldn’t miss me too much.

“I’m positive, Bubba,” I said, my eyes darting to the cab pulling up to the curb. “My ride’s here. I love you.”

“Love you too, sis. Call me later?”

“I’ll try to remember in the morning,” I said, attempting to sound upbeat despite the crushing weight in my chest. “I know it’s late for you guys.”

I closed my phone with shaking hands and stuffed it into my purse, the weight of my decisions pressing down on me. The cab driver approached, his face a blur through my tears.

“Where to?” he asked, his voice a lifeline in the growing storm of my fear.

“1st and East 54th in the Diamond District,” I replied, offering a weak, strained smile.

“Dauphine?” The driver’s eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror, a hint of something unsettling in his gaze. “Ever been there before?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, trying to steady my breath. “I don’t remember it all that well. Guess I had too much fun last time.”

“Watch yourself,” the driver said, turning on the radio with a slow, deliberate movement. “That place is crawling with freaks.”

“Welcome to New York,” I muttered, more to myself than him.

He chuckled, his voice a touch too jovial. “Been here my whole life. My name’s Jimin. Call me if you need a getaway driver.”

The car rumbled with the low hum of R&B, Jimin fiddling with the radio as if trying to mask the creeping anxiety that gnawed at my insides. I mouthed the lyrics, trying to drown out the terror that threatened to consume me.

My thoughts were a twisted mess of fear and longing. The image of Hoseok, tainted by his manipulation, flickered through my mind. The desire to escape him was overpowered by the suffocating grip of my own confusion. Taehyung was my last, desperate hope—a fleeting chance at redemption. But deep down, a gnawing realization settled in I was already damned, teetering on the edge with no way back.

The mantra echoed relentlessly in my head: I miss him, love him, and need him…

I was spiraling, caught in a web of my own making, and the thought of facing what awaited me at Dauphine was almost too much to bear.

“We’re here,” Jimin's voice cut through the thick fog of dread that enveloped me.

“Thanks for the ride,” I muttered, my fingers trembling as I fumbled with the cash. I handed him a generous tip, a feeble attempt to cling to some semblance of normalcy.

The alleyway stretched before me, a grim path between the upscale buildings of the Diamond District. It looked less menacing than I’d imagined, but its familiarity offered no comfort. Dim street lamps cast weak pools of light that barely touched the encroaching darkness. I hoped—prayed—that Hoseok wasn’t already here. The fading daylight gave me just enough visibility to navigate, and the murmur of voices outside the bar was a small, shaky comfort. I clung to the hope that these voices belonged to ordinary people, potential witnesses if I needed to make a quick escape.

As I approached, the group of people outside fell silent. My stomach churned violently, and bile rose in my throat, threatening to spill. I couldn’t bring myself to turn and face them; their gaze was almost a physical presence, making my skin crawl even though I never looked directly at them. A low, sinister snicker from one of them sent a shiver down my spine, amplifying my fear. I hadn’t even seen their faces, yet their mere presence was enough to make me quake.

The bouncer at the gate eyed me with a scrutinizing glare.

“Password,” he demanded, his voice flat and unyielding.

“I-” I stammered, my mind racing to recall the password Hoseok had given me. “Audubon.”

The gate creaked open, and I slipped past the security guard, my heart pounding like a drum. Despite my nervous bravado, the bouncer’s indifference did little to soothe me. Once inside, I felt a fleeting sense of relief, escaping the unsettling stares.

I gripped my bag tightly, knuckles white, and started searching for the bar. The interior was starkly underwhelming—plush couches and private booths scattered haphazardly, with red neon signs pointing to the restrooms. The oppressive red and black color scheme was heavy, but thankfully devoid of any overtly horrific scenes. I had no desire for strobe lights or dance floors; the thought of walking into a trap was more than enough to keep me on edge.

Navigating through the dimly lit space, I felt like I was moving through a maze. The long hallway ahead seemed to stretch into an abyss, the darkness intensifying with each step. The oppressive gloom and the eerie silence made my nerves jangle. The jazz music that had been softly playing in the background had faded, leaving me in a disquieting void.

At the end of the hall, the emptiness was almost a relief. The silence was oppressive but meant I wasn’t walking into a room full of hostile eyes. Perhaps this was how I’d met Bootsy—wandering aimlessly until she had found me and guided me out.

The bar seemed to stretch on forever, an architectural labyrinth that added to my growing sense of dread. I held my breath as the walls seemed to close in, my anxiety a tangible weight pressing against my chest. The high ceilings and claustrophobic spaces combined to create a sensation of being trapped. My heels clicked sharply against the linoleum, the sound echoing eerily in the silence. The place felt more like a mausoleum than a bar. Every step heightened my unease, and the hairs on my neck stood on end as I glanced around, trying to ignore the creeping terror that threatened to overwhelm me.

“Hello?” I called out, my voice trembling as it cut through the oppressive silence. “Is anybody here?”

The sudden sound of a voice behind me made me jump, my heart racing as I spun around with a gasp that morphed into a shriek. My balance faltered, and I slammed into the wall, scraping my arm against the rough surface. The sharp sting of pain was immediate and searing. I clutched my injured arm, the pain and the shock making my vision blur. I turned to face the figure who had startled me.

He stood there, his white button-down shirt contrasting sharply with the dim surroundings. His tall, lean frame was framed by broad shoulders, and his long fingers seemed to move with an effortless grace. But it was his smile that made my blood run cold—a wide, boxy grin that stretched unnaturally across his face, his eyes glinting with a mischievous, unsettling light.

“My apologies,” he said, his voice dripping with a smooth, honeyed tone. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

I glared at him, struggling to steady my breathing and regain my composure. “It’s fine. It didn’t kill me, did it?”

He chuckled softly; a sound that felt more sinister than soothing. “You’re bleeding,” he said, his gaze dropping to my arm.

I looked down and saw blood seeping through a tear in my blazer. The sight of my own blood was like a cruel reminder of my vulnerability. The pain, combined with the sight of my blood, pushed me to the edge. My hands shook as I raised them to my face, tears welling up uncontrollably. The enormity of my situation crashed down on me like a tidal wave. Everything felt chaotic; my life had been turned upside down, and the relentless pounding in my head was unbearable. I should have stayed home. At least Hoseok’s presence, while twisted, had been a semblance of comfort.

The despair was suffocating.

“Are you okay, sha?” His voice was soft, but his touch on my arm was disconcertingly gentle.

I laughed, a hollow, despairing sound. “Does it look like it?”

“No, you look upset,” he replied, his eyes glinting with an unsettling mixture of sympathy and amusement.

“You don’t say?” I snapped, rolling my eyes and jerking my arm away from his touch.

Despite my evident distress, he remained unnervingly calm, his smile lingering like a dark shadow. His pleasure at my discomfort was unsettling, and the aura around him felt eerily similar to the disquieting presence of those outside. His attractiveness was overshadowed by a deeply disturbing quality that made me want to flee. It was as if fear had paralyzed me, pinning me in place.

Suddenly, a chilling realization hit me. As I forced myself to examine his face more closely, I recognized him from the shadows of my past. He was strikingly beautiful in a haunting way, like Bootsy. His pale skin was almost luminescent, and his eyes, once hidden in the darkness, now revealed flecks of red that seemed to glow with a menacing, otherworldly light. They were mesmerizing yet horrifying, a dangerous allure that made my skin crawl. The spell he cast was broken as quickly as it had begun, and I struggled to look him in the eye again.

“You’re looking for me, aren’t you?” His voice was a silky whisper that seemed to wrap around me, tightening with a sinister intent.

Embarrassed by my earlier outburst, I nodded slowly. My hope of finding help felt increasingly elusive as the night grew darker and more menacing. All I wanted was to escape, but the hope that things might improve clung stubbornly to me. Taehyung exuded a disorienting blend of warmth and menace, a mix of comfort and dread that left me feeling more lost than ever.

“I’m sorry for being snappy,” I said, my voice quivering as I wiped away a tear. “I don’t remember you all that well.” 

Or at all, my mind whispered in the encroaching darkness. The more I looked at him, the more I felt Hoseok’s oppressive influence tugging at my thoughts. Images of Hoseok’s touch, his voice, his eyes—each one flared in my mind with an insidious intensity. He misses you; he loves you, he needs you…

“Requiem was wrong,” Taehyung murmured, his fingers chillingly cold as they cradled my face. “You’re too far gone.”

“Who?” I managed to ask, my voice trembling and my head spinning. His touch was both numbing and intoxicating.

“Bootsy,” he cooed, his breath a mix of cotton and sweet pine needles. “She said you had a chance, but she was mistaken. My friend has already completed the bond.”

“W-what?” I whispered, dazed and confused. The throbbing ache in my head resonated with Taehyung’s presence. “What bond?”

“Maybe not,” he whispered, his proximity making my pulse race.

When his lips met mine, they were like ice, yet the jolt of electricity that surged through me made my knees buckle. His laughter was dark and twisted as he wrapped an arm around my waist, his tongue brushing against my lips. I mewled, clutching his shoulders as the electric sensation overwhelmed me. His groan sent shivers through my entire body, and the echo of Hoseok’s voice in my head was relentless. He misses you, he loves you, he needs you…

Suddenly, I shoved Taehyung away, gasping for air as a searing pain exploded in my head. It felt as if a sledgehammer had struck my temple. My vision swam, and I collapsed to my knees, tears streaming down my face as I sobbed uncontrollably.

“Poor child,” Taehyung crooned, kneeling beside me. His scent, soothing yet oddly comforting, did little to ease the tremors wracking my body. “I’m so sorry, but I cannot help you.”

“I’m going to die,” I sobbed, my voice cracking under the weight of my despair.

“Yes,” he said calmly. “The pain will lessen once you accept it; accept him.”

“What does he want?” I managed to choke out.

“Can’t you see?” Taehyung’s eyes glittered ominously in the dim light. “He believes he’s in love with you. It’s a pity, really. I want nothing more than to keep you, but I can’t risk angering him. He would destroy Requiem for revealing his secrets; she is my most cherished friend. Do you understand?”

Numbly, I nodded. I’m going to die. I miss him. I’m going to die. He loves you. I’m going to die. I need him. I’m going to die. I love him. He needs you. I’m—

“Your eyes look just like his,” Taehyung marveled, his gaze softening. “He’s bound to you in a way I’ve never seen before.”

As I stared at Taehyung, my vision began to blur, and the voices in my head whispered louder in the dark corners of my mind. Their weight pressed down on me, my eyes rolling back until all I could see was a void. When I came to, I was horrified to find vomit splattered across Taehyung’s pristine white shirt. His expression twisted in horror and pain as he watched me unravel.

A dark, malevolent presence loomed near, its acrid stench of soot and kerosene overwhelming my senses. My head throbbed as if it had been cleaved in two, and a grotesque, pecking sensation gnawed at my exposed, vulnerable insides. Taehyung’s icy touch against my rigid form offered little comfort as I lay helpless against his chest, terror seeping in with every passing second.

“There’s my girl!” Hoseok’s voice cut through the haze of despair, and just like that, the pain evaporated.

I exhaled, sinking into Taehyung’s embrace. His body felt like ice against my fevered skin, a chilling contrast that brought an unexpected relief. His cool fingers traced my scalp, their touch a soothing balm amidst the chaos.

“I hope you understand Bootsy’s decision,” Taehyung’s voice was as cold as his touch, carrying a weight of finality. “She thought you were still playing games. But she was wrong.”

A deep, resonant rumble filled the space, and Hoseok’s voice emerged from the darkness like a spectral echo.

“Requiem has every right to her judgment,” Hoseok said, his voice a smooth caress laced with menace. “If it were anyone else, I might not care. But Y/N’s suffering is a consequence of her meddling. I had hoped to keep her alive.”

“Why?” I croaked, the question barely escaping my lips.

“You’re my special girl,” Hoseok purred, his voice dripping with a twisted, cruel fondness. “So innocent, so malleable. You’re perfect.”

A strange calm enveloped me as I lay against Taehyung, the tumult of emotions and pain fading to a low murmur. Hoseok’s presence hung over me like a dark, oppressive cloud, his words a cruel mockery of the comfort I desperately sought.

Taehyung’s fingers moved through my hair with a cold, almost clinical precision. “You’ve been chosen,” he said softly, his voice carrying an unsettling calm. “It’s a rare bond that neither Bootsy nor I can undo. I wish there was something more I could do for you.”

My vision blurred, shadows of past anguish swirling around me. Hoseok’s voice echoed in my mind, a haunting lullaby that twisted my insides. “You’re mine, Y/N. No matter how you struggle, you are woven into my essence.”

The room seemed to constrict, the walls inching inward, shadows elongating and darkening. A biting chill settled over the space, the whispers of the damned intertwining with my deepest fears. I could almost see their forms, spectral and menacing, reaching out from the darkness.

I struggled to my feet, the world spinning dizzily around me. My head throbbed with a relentless ache, my heart pounding like a trapped bird. I stumbled away from Taehyung’s unnervingly composed presence, my eyes darting frantically for any sign of escape or salvation.

“Y/N,” Hoseok’s voice was a dissonant blend of soothing and threatening. “Don’t run from me. You belong here, with me.”

My breath came in ragged gasps, the overwhelming urge to flee battling with a stubborn thread of hope tangled in my despair. My thoughts were a chaotic mess, clinging to the faintest possibility of survival amidst the encroaching darkness.

I turned to Taehyung, my gaze pleading, desperate. “Is there no way out? Is there any hope left?”

Taehyung’s expression softened with a mixture of pity and sorrow. “Try to enjoy your final moments.”

Footsteps echoed ominously down the corridor, each step deliberate and foreboding. My heart leaped as a figure emerged from the gloom. Bootsy. Her presence was both a flicker of reassurance and a shadow of dread.

“I’m sorry,” Bootsy’s voice was a murmur of regret in the darkness.

I looked at her, then back at Taehyung, and finally at the encroaching shadows that seemed to reach out with a ravenous hunger. The weight of the choice, of my impending doom, pressed heavily on my chest, threatening to crush me under its gravity.

With a shuddering breath, I steeled myself. “I can’t let this happen to me,” I said, my voice trembling but resolute. “I don’t want this.”

The room seemed to hold its breath, the darkness thickening. Hoseok’s laughter echoed through the void, a low, mocking sound that sent icy shivers down my spine. “Of course you do. You wouldn’t be writhing on the floor if you didn’t.”

The shadows deepened, the walls closing in as if reality itself was warping to ensnare me. A cold grip tightened around my soul, a force dragging me back into the abyss I had fought so hard to escape. An aching chill settled below my diaphragm, squeezing the breath from my lungs. My head spun again, his voice a soft whisper in the recesses of my mind. I miss you. I love you. I need you…

Don’t leave me.

Taehyung’s expression hardened into one of grim resignation. “You’re already bound to him. The bond is too strong.”

As I fought against the invisible chains tightening around me, the futility of my struggle became all too apparent. The darkness swallowed me whole, dragging me back into the depths I had desperately tried to escape.

“Please,” I whispered into the void, but the darkness consumed my plea. “Please, no.”

Hoseok’s voice filled the void, smooth and victorious. “Welcome home, darling.”

The last glimmers of light vanished, leaving me in an eternal night, a prisoner of my own choices and the dark forces that had ensnared me. My mind fractured under the weight of the consuming darkness, and as the final remnants of my resistance crumbled, I faced the harrowing truth.

There was no salvation. No escape. Only the endless, consuming dark.

And in that darkness, I was utterly, irrevocably alone.

I don’t know how long I’ve been trapped in this suffocating darkness—hours, days, months, or maybe even years. Time has become an abstract concept here, slipping through my grasp like the thin veil of reality that separates me from the void. The only link to the world beyond this prison is Hoseok, a ghostly presence who appears with a gleam in his eyes that chills me to the bone. His voice, carrying the weight of a thousand tortured souls, always asks the same haunting question: How are you feeling?

We were never friends. Each passing day has sharpened my memories into a cruel clarity. I don’t know where my physical body is—doubtful it’s anywhere near this place. The ink and paper I use to write materialize out of nowhere whenever I need them, appearing and disappearing like phantoms in my disturbed mind. This place defies all logic and reason.

Initially, I fought Hoseok with every ounce of my being. Each refusal brought excruciating pain that felt like it would tear me apart. My screams echoed back at me from the oppressive void, unanswered and ignored. Hoseok would slip into the darkness with a silent, predatory grace, his hot hands roaming over my shivering body before I even knew he was there. I would scramble away, howling and begging him to take me home, but he always left without a word.

Eventually, I gave up the fight. I accepted that escape was impossible, even though my soul still ached for my old life. The pain eased only when I surrendered, and Hoseok’s visits grew more frequent. They were filled with idle chatter about his plans for me. I learned he was a demon, and I was destined to become one too. The possession would erase most of who I once was, but when I awoke, we would be forever linked as master and shade. My freedom would only come after I took my first human life, but that day seemed impossibly distant. Hoseok savored every bite of my soul with a mournful delight.

What I felt for Hoseok wasn’t love—it was an obsession, a malignant force that had seeped into every corner of my being. “A natural reaction of a shade to its master,” he said. I was bound to him, and escape was nothing but a cruel illusion.

The first signs of my unraveling appeared when Hoseok vanished for days on end. In the infinite darkness, where time had no meaning, his absence was a torment of its own. Despite his power to bend reality, he chose to leave me here, dependent on his presence for any sign of change. I began talking to myself, my voice the only sound in the oppressive silence. I spoke for hours, my throat raw and hoarse from the effort, desperately trying to fend off the encroaching madness.

I felt like an addict in withdrawal. I don’t recall when hallucinations began, but soon I was conversing with a phantom chorus of voices. Deep down, I knew it was Hoseok orchestrating these illusions, but my fractured mind twisted reality into something I could barely comprehend. My hatred for him only served to cloud my already distorted perception.

As time dragged on, I grew weary. My speech turned into riddles, convinced I was a prophet receiving divine revelations. Raised Catholic, I had long drifted from faith, but the darkness reignited an obsession with God. I clung desperately to fragmented Bible verses. Hoseok, ever the manipulator, provided me with a Bible. If I weren’t so far gone, I might have questioned his uncanny ability to fulfill my twisted needs.

When I told Hoseok about my religious background, he laughed, and the darkness morphed into a cathedral. For the first time, there was something tangible to focus on during his absences. It was both a prison and a gift. The pews were filled with spectral congregants, and every day became Sunday. I feverishly wrote sermons, warning of the apocalypse. Hoseok attended with a devotion bordering on reverence, but he always left too soon.

The withdrawal pangs paralyzed me, but incessant talking kept the crushing loneliness at bay. I remember the first encounter after becoming accustomed to this madness. My body trembled with need, yet my mind remained alert. Each denial of release brought physical agony, and Hoseok’s visits grew more frequent and prolonged. My breakdown was inevitable.

On the day of my final descent, I felt his presence before I saw him. My struggle had reached its nadir. Despite my lingering hope for escape, Hoseok’s presence shattered my resolve. I became an all-too-willing participant in his dark designs. Even now, as I lie prostrate in my despair, I can’t escape the haunting reality of my existence.

The words of the prayer rolled off my tongue like a ghostly murmur in the dim, solemn church. Each syllable was a desperate plea, a sacrament of my crumbling faith:

“Soul of Christ, sanctify me.”

“Body of Christ, save me.”

“Blood of Christ, inebriate me.”

This prayer was a twisted sacrament, a litany of sacred pleas that felt increasingly like cries into the void.

“Water from Christ’s side, wash me.”

“Passion of Christ, strengthen me.”

“O good Jesus, hear me.”

I bowed my head, eyes squeezed shut like a child hiding from monsters under the bed. My hands gripped tightly in a futile attempt to hold onto my sanity. I prayed not just for absolution but for a distraction, for him to stay away, for the sinful thoughts to dissipate like smoke in the sun.

“Y/N,” a voice whispered, spectral and insistent, urging me to rise, to accept, to finally bend to its will.

Reluctantly, I dragged myself to the pulpit, my legs trembling. I focused on the Gospel before me, the rhythm of my breath, the rehearsed words of today’s homily. I could hear murmurs of anticipation swelling in the pews, bouncing off the stone walls like echoes of forgotten promises.

Did they know? Did they sense the darkness creeping into my soul?

To be honest, I was unsure if anyone was really there or if my mind was playing tricks on me. This place had a maddening ability to distort my perception. I steadied myself, nodding to the organ player, offering a fleeting smile to the choir’s children—figments of my fractured mind. Their eyes, hungry for guidance, believed in my wisdom, though I felt utterly unworthy. Their gaze was a reflection of my own inner torment.

My eyes locked on a figure in the front row, right side, five seats in. My breath hitched, caught in my throat, as I beheld him. Jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket—an irreverent defiance slicing through the sanctity of the church. His gaze was a burning, unholy fire that cut through the darkness with unnerving clarity.

In that moment, the last vestiges of my sanity crumbled, leaving me exposed to the consuming darkness that had become my prison.

I steadied myself, nodding to the organ player, and offered a fleeting smile to the choir’s children, who I no longer believed were real. My gaze wandered over the congregation, each face a testament to a faith I felt unworthy of. Their eyes, brimming with expectation, seemed to pierce through me, demanding guidance I could no longer provide. I questioned my own sanity, wondering if anyone in that room could see how profoundly empty I felt.

I once had everything figured out. Before this… before him.

My eyes locked on a single figure in the front row, right side, five seats in. My breath hitched, caught in my throat. There he was: jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket—a casual defiance that sliced through the church’s sanctity like a blade. His legs were crossed, hands poised by his sides, eyes ablaze with a fire that seemed to burn straight through my composure.

No holy book in his hands, no righteous smile on his lips—just an unspoken, rebellious challenge. His presence was a magnetism that pulled me toward a pit of temptation and sin. I forgot my sermon. I forgot the vows and promises etched into my soul. The solemn pledges made to men of faith and to God. Promises I had written daily to stave off the creeping insanity.

Those promises now felt like distant echoes, overshadowed by him. His eyes, his lips, his rebellious aura—an inferno of forbidden heat that ignited a longing I could no longer contain. I closed my eyes, desperately trying to escape the searing image of him. Abs, legs, an all-consuming heat that seemed to draw me into its vortex.

When I opened my eyes again, the fire remained. A cough from the crowd jolted me back to the present. I tugged at my collar, the symbol of my childhood and a cruel gift from Hoseok. It used to offer comfort, a sign of belonging, but now it felt like a noose tightening around my neck.

The faces of the congregation were a sea of silent, unspoken questions. Their eyes bored into me, filled with unvoiced suspicions and judgments.

Shit.

My fingers trembled as I gripped the edges of the pulpit, trying to anchor myself amidst the spiraling chaos. The eyes of the congregation felt like spectral judgments, each one a reminder of my spiraling failure. Hoseok’s presence, fixed in my peripheral vision, was a constant, unsettling pull—a dark promise of chaos just beyond the edge of reason. It pressed heavily on my chest, a suffocating weight threatening to collapse my fragile sanity.

I forced my gaze back to the Gospel, attempting to focus on the familiar lines of scripture, hoping they would restore my fractured resolve. But the words on the page blurred and twisted, tangled in the storm raging inside my head. Each verse felt like wading through molasses, and a bead of sweat trickled down my temple, mingling with the cold sweat already gathering at the base of my neck. I cleared my throat, trying to regain control, but the sound emerged as a strangled rasp.

The whispers grew louder, like rustling wings pressing against the walls of my sanity. My heart pounded like a funeral drum, each beat a reminder of my mounting desperation. I could almost hear the devil’s laughter, mocking my feeble attempts to maintain a façade of righteousness.

Hoseok’s gaze was unwavering, a predator’s gaze that seemed to sear through my composure. His movements were fluid, deliberate—like a hunter preparing to strike. My mind raced, desperately searching for an escape from this hellish vortex. I glanced at the crucifix behind me, its hollow eyes and outstretched arms now a pitifully inadequate shield against the encroaching darkness. The sacred symbol that once offered solace now seemed like a cruel joke, highlighting how far I had strayed from purity.

The murmurs of the congregation grew insistent, a chorus of impatient whispers that echoed like an unholy chant. The church, once a sanctuary, now closed in around me, its weight suffocating. I took a deep breath, summoning the last remnants of my willpower. I forced myself to meet Hoseok’s gaze again, confronting the fiery rebellion in his eyes. He offered no sympathy, only a silent taunt that echoed my own guilt.

With a trembling hand, I reached for the microphone. My voice cracked as I began to speak, the words spilling out in a disjointed stream. I struggled to reclaim my authority, but with each passing moment, my grip on sanity slipped further. The congregation’s expressions shifted from curiosity to concern, then to alarm. Their faith faltered under the weight of my unraveling composure.

Hoseok’s gaze remained fixed, a dark star in a sea of light, drawing me inexorably towards his gravitational pull. My voice faltered, becoming increasingly erratic, reflecting the chaos within. The church fell into a tense silence, broken only by the rustling of the congregation’s uneasy shifting. I felt every eye on me, their silent judgment a palpable force.

My final words came out as a barely coherent murmur, a defeated whisper lost in the oppressive silence. I stumbled away from the pulpit, my mind a tempest of confusion and dread. As I retreated from the glaring scrutiny of the congregation, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was stumbling towards some dark, inevitable reckoning. Hoseok’s gaze followed me, a constant, unsettling presence as I fled the sanctuary.

I collapsed into the shadows behind the altar, my breath coming in ragged gasps that echoed through the oppressive silence of the church. The darkness around me felt like a living entity, wrapping itself around my chest and squeezing, threatening to suffocate me. Hoseok's eyes lingered in my mind, their haunting intensity a constant reminder of the sin and torment that had become my existence. The certainty of my spiraling downfall felt inescapable, and every breath I took seemed to deepen my dread.

The pews had emptied in an instant, leaving the room cloaked in a suffocating silence. My heart pounded as I watched Hoseok move toward me. The man before me was no longer the mortal guise he had once worn; his true form emerged, dark and unnervingly compelling. His eyes, once warm and inviting, now burned with a shadowed hunger that quickened my pulse with a mix of terror and something I couldn’t quite name.

“Y/N.” His voice, soft and reverent, seemed to carry a sacramental weight that sent an icy shiver down my spine. There was a truth hidden in those syllables, a meaning only he understood. As his nearness intensified, confusion and fear danced across my features. His calm, deliberate hand cradled my cheek, the touch both tender and overwhelming. The heat of my skin seemed to beckon to him, an invitation that terrified and enthralled me simultaneously.

"You're so lovely," he whispered, his voice a gentle murmur that barely masked the wild intensity in his eyes. His touch guided me backward with a grace that felt almost otherworldly. The church seemed to dissolve around us, melting away into a space that was unsettlingly familiar—a fragment of my life from New York. The red brick of the two-story house brought a strange, bittersweet comfort, like a fragment of a life I had once known. It calmed my racing heart with its eerie familiarity. He led me to the front door, his touch both comforting and possessive.

The lock yielded effortlessly, and as we crossed the threshold, the gravity of the situation settled like a stone in my stomach. The house, once a sanctuary of normalcy, now felt like a prison, its walls closing in with a menacing intimacy. 

"So perfectly lovely," he murmured again as he closed the door behind us. I stumbled back, my nerves crackling with an unsettling energy. It wasn’t just fear anymore—it was something darker and more confusing. A part of me ached for normalcy, for escape, while another part was drawn to him with a desperate, confusing need. The line between terror and an inexplicable, forbidden desire blurred beyond recognition. I clung to the last shreds of my sanity, even as I felt myself unraveling under the weight of my own conflicted emotions.

"Why are we here?" I asked, my voice trembling with a mix of breathlessness and an unspoken longing. My heart pounded with a confusing blend of fear and desire. It was as if clarity had returned to me for a fleeting moment, yet I was still tethered to the confusion Hoseok had woven into my days. His promises of relief had begun to erode the pain, even as they wrapped around me like a vice. I remembered the dreams he'd planted in my mind, their seductive whispers blurring my sense of reality.

"I thought you might feel more at ease here," he said softly, his tone smooth and soothing as he followed me through the cluttered living room. Each backward step I took seemed to draw him closer, his presence an inescapable shadow. "Do you like it?"

I hesitated, glancing around at the artifacts of my past—family photos, treasured mementos, relics of a life that now felt so distant. The room was a museum of a future slipping away from me, and Hoseok's eyes seemed intent on taking it all. "Yes, I do," I whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. The room, once a sanctuary of normalcy, now felt like a stage for his dark play.

"I'd like a drink," I said, placing a hand over my racing heart. I clung to the pretense of normalcy, desperate to maintain some semblance of control. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I felt a flicker of my old self. "Is there anything here? Surely you would... like one... as well."

Hoseok, having long since discarded any pretense of humanity, closed the distance between us with unsettling swiftness. His movements were almost too fluid, his presence too intense. His hands, warm and steady, framed my face with a possessive grace, his gaze fixed on the pulse in my neck, the rich, inviting blood beneath my skin.

"Oh, Y/N, my sweet, innocent little lamb." His voice, a velvety murmur, sent a shiver down my spine. His touch, trailing down to my neck, felt both magnetic and maddening. His eyes lingered on my flesh with a hunger that was almost palpable, a craving that seemed to consume him as much as it did me.

I trembled in his embrace, my conflicting desires mirrored in his touch. A soft moan escaped my lips, my breath warm and trembling with a heady mix of fear and desire. His smile widened, a predatory glint in his eyes as he encircled my waist, his touch moving possessively lower, tracing the curve of my hips and thighs. The tension between fight and flight heightened the charged atmosphere, leaving me both desperate and disoriented.

His eyes traced the flush of my lips, a reflection of the flush between my legs. The scent of my arousal mingled with my anxious heartbeat, a call to the beast inside him. His senses seemed overwhelmed by the promise of my warmth, the floral sweetness of my skin, and the earthy musk of my desire.

"You don't want... a drink?" I stammered, struggling to grasp the situation, to find a shred of reason amid the chaos of my emotions.

"Oh yes, Y/N. I very much desire a... drink." His smile was amused, his lips hovering just above mine. The taste of his breath, mingling with his tantalizing scent, sparked a deep, primal hunger within me. I was alive with all these unfulfilled needs, caught between an overwhelming desire and a paralyzing fear.

I inhaled shakily, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. "What... would you like?" The question was a desperate plea for clarity, a tenuous grasp at the last vestiges of control in a world that had become a tumultuous blur of lust and dread.

A low laugh rumbled in Hoseok’s throat as he brushed his lips over mine, savoring the teasing trace of my flavor. "I want you, Y/N. I want to drink you." His honesty was laced with a raw, consuming need, a plea that mirrored the chaotic mix of longing and fear surging through me. It was clear he had no intention of letting me escape—not now. His tongue traced the corners of my mouth, and his body pressed against mine, making his heat seep through every layer of fabric that separated us.

I trembled, caught in a storm of conflicting emotions. The scents of my home—the cheap cotton sheets, synthetic pillows, and lingering traces of my perfume—led him with a haunting familiarity. He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me with a purposeful stride, and placed me gently at the foot of my bed. The moonlight offered only a weak shield against the encroaching darkness that seemed to swallow us whole.

My heart raced, feeling like a delicate butterfly trapped in a predatory web. As he dropped his coat to the floor and drew me into a deep kiss, my earlier uncertainty dissolved into a raw, electric need. Each touch of his fingers against my body made me shiver, a mix of anticipation and dread coiling tightly within me.

The bed was unmade, its disarray a silent testament to my disordered state. His scent lingered in the tangled sheets and blankets as he lowered me onto them. My sweat-dampened palms gripped his hair, my fingers exploring the nape of his neck and shoulders. The buttons on his shirt came undone beneath my trembling hands, my desire growing bolder despite the icy grip of fear that clenched at my chest. His groan as his teeth grazed my throat made me arch my hips, pressing closer, driven by a need I couldn't fully understand.

My clothes fell away under his hands, leaving me exposed and vulnerable. His eyes devoured every curve of my body, his gaze as palpable as his touch. His mouth descended on mine, hungry and insatiable, and I was enveloped by him, lost in a swirling tempest of our shared desire. His touch became a language, one that read my body with an intimate knowledge I was helpless to resist.

As he explored my secret places, my soft sighs turned into desperate pleas. His searing touch brought goosebumps to my skin, but I pressed closer, overwhelmed by the pleasure he was giving me. I was caught between wanting more and the creeping dread of losing myself entirely.

"Y/N," he groaned, his voice a dark promise. "I want to consume you." His words were a growl, a warning wrapped in seductive desire.

"Yes, I want you to. Do it. Take me," I panted, clutching at his shirt sleeve. My body spoke louder than words, arching upwards in desperate need. I knew I didn't fully understand what I was asking for, but the awareness was drowned out by the intensity of my longing.

His hands covered my breasts, his fingers finding my nipples. I gasped, pushing closer as his mouth found each tip, his low growl sending shivers through me. My heart raced beneath his lips, the rush of blood whispering of more delights to come. I arched again, my body twisting off the bed, craving more.

His mouth sucked at my nipple, his tongue flicking to heighten my pleasure. His thigh pressed between mine, the fabric of his jeans rasping over my nakedness, igniting a desperate heat. I moaned and bucked against him, my fingers digging into his arms as I convulsed beneath him, reaching the peak of my desire. The exhilaration of the moment was punctuated by the fear that clawed at the edges of my consciousness, a persistent reminder that I was teetering on the brink of something both irresistible and terrifying.

The climax left me gasping, trembling, caught in a whirlwind of confusion and overwhelming need. Each wave of pleasure only heightened my fear, and my body’s reaction seemed to betray my mind's desperate protests. His touch, relentless and insistent, found a rhythm that both seduced and terrified me. I cried out, unable to stop the sounds that escaped my lips, but a part of me wanted to resist.

I tried to pull away, my hand grasping his wrist with a frantic intensity. "What... what are you doing to me…?" My voice was a ragged whisper, trembling with a blend of confusion and fear.

He looked at me with a dark, hungry smile, his eyes alight with a dangerous fire. "Y/N, don’t lie to yourself," he said softly, his fingers curling in ways that made my body shudder. "You’re not overwhelmed. Your body is telling me you want this. You’re close to coming again. I can feel it."

My protests dissolved into incoherent moans as his touch stimulated a spot deep within me. The pleasure was a cruel paradox, blurring the line between ecstasy and dread. I could barely think, my mind clouded by the intensity of his actions.

"No, Hoseok, it’s too much," I whimpered, struggling to catch my breath. "I can’t..."

His mouth moved to mine, his lips teasing, his breath warm against my skin. "You’re a beautiful little liar," he murmured. "It’s not too much. You crave this. You know you do. Beg for it."

The force of his command broke through my haze of desire. "Please, Hoseok...," I gasped, my will crumbling under his dominance. My words felt like a betrayal, but I couldn’t stop myself from begging. "Please, just... take me."

His satisfaction was palpable, a dangerous hunger in his eyes. His touch grew more urgent, driving me to the brink of madness. I was lost in a maelstrom of sensation, my mind screaming to pull away, but my body’s response only seemed to draw him closer.

The moment of his thrust was jarring, a mix of pain and pleasure that overwhelmed me. My body reacted instinctively, my hips rising to meet him even as my mind struggled to grasp the reality of what was happening. The intense pleasure was intermingled with a profound fear, a dread of losing myself completely.

His movements were urgent, almost desperate, as though he were chasing an elusive climax. I was limp in his arms, my breathing ragged, torn between an unbearable desire and an escalating terror.

Despite my growing fear, I clung to him, my hands fumbling for some semblance of control. My kisses were desperate, seeking to anchor myself amidst the chaos. His touch was relentless, and every stroke seemed to heighten the conflict within me.

He pressed closer, his hands exploring with a possessive intensity. My body’s reactions were at odds with my thoughts, creating a tumultuous storm of sensation and fear. My mind raced, grappling with the realization of what was happening, but the pleasure was so consuming that it blurred the line between consent and coercion.

As the moment approached, I felt his breath on my neck, a chilling reminder of the danger that lurked beneath his seductive veneer. The final act was a blur, my fear mingling with an overwhelming rush of sensation.

I was a walking paradox—caught between heaven and hell, life and death, sin and redemption. His presence was a fiery furnace, consuming me with the heat of stolen life he had been deprived of for so long. My body clenched around him, a pulsating rhythm that seemed to drive him to the edge of his sanity. His pleasure was overwhelming, a torrent of sensations that painted the world in a chaotic blaze of colors.

“Hoseok, please…” I whispered, my voice a fragile breath against the overpowering cacophony of sensations. I wasn’t sure if my plea was for him to stop or to continue, a desperate cry from a place deep within me that I couldn’t fully comprehend. My fear was a gnawing presence, clawing at the edges of my desire, but the confusion of what I wanted and what I was willing to accept blurred together.

His eyes were dark with a twisted satisfaction as he sensed the last of my climax and my blood draining from me. The thought of taking me to the brink of death both exhilarated and haunted him. His grip tightened, and with a guttural snarl, he pulled away from my neck, his fangs retracting with a mixture of frustration and reluctant restraint. The rush of his thirst roared inside him, but he forced himself to temper his need.

I was an indulgence he wouldn’t be denied again, a forbidden pleasure he was determined to claim. He gently laid me back on the disheveled sheets, my heartbeat weak and fluttering. He licked the last drops of blood from my skin, his breath ragged and uneven. Each touch was deliberate, sealing the wounds with a final, lingering caress—a practical necessity for a demon who wanted to savor every part of me.

“Mine,” he growled, his voice a low, dark promise that vibrated through my core. “You are mine, Y/N. From now until death claims you, until I claim you.” His breath was warm and heavy against my face. My eyelids fluttered, barely able to focus, but his words penetrated my haze. “If any other man dares to touch you, I will tear him apart. Remember this, my beautiful little lamb. Remember who you belong to.”

“Hoseok,” I murmured, my voice a faint echo of surrender. His satisfaction was palpable, a twisted delight in my obedience and submission. He rose and slipped out of the room, leaving me tangled in sheets and blankets. From across the street, hidden in the shadows, he watched and listened, his gaze a persistent weight on my fragile state.

As dawn’s first light crept through the blinds, it painted the room in a sickly, eerie glow. I lay amidst the tangled sheets, each twist revealing new bruises and bite marks—a grotesque map of the night’s events etched into my skin. The aftermath was a haunting blend of pleasure and torment, an unsettling reminder of what had transpired.

Hoseok’s presence lingered in the room like a shadow that refused to lift. The darkness he brought with him clung to the corners, an inescapable reminder of the nightmare I had just lived through. My mind, once a storm of fear and confusion, now spun in a twisted acceptance—a deranged serenity that felt as liberating as it was unsettling.

The door creaked open like the groan of an old house settling into its own despair. Hoseok reappeared, his eyes still gleaming with that predatory glow, but now softened by an unsettling tenderness. He moved towards me with a deliberate grace, each step imbued with a dark reverence that made my heart pound with a blend of fear and reluctant desire.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice a low, seductive murmur that slithered across the room. “Do you understand now? You are mine, every inch of you.”

I looked up at him, my smile a grotesque reflection of the twisted contentment that had taken root in me. It was not a smile of joy or freedom but a shadowy acknowledgment of a reality I could no longer escape. My old life had withered into obscurity, replaced by the suffocating reality Hoseok had imposed upon me.

“Yes,” I breathed, the word barely escaping my lips. “I belong to you.”

The truth of my submission felt like a heavy, warm blanket, pressing down on me with an oppressive weight. Despite the enormity of what I had given up—my freedom, my chance to reclaim any semblance of my old life—there was an undeniable satisfaction in surrendering wholly to him. The pain and loss had twisted into a perverse form of fulfillment, filling the void in my chest with a dark semblance of love.

Hoseok’s smile widened, a dark curve that spoke of unyielding possession. He reached out, his hand caressing my cheek with a gentleness that clashed violently with the ferocity of his claim. The room seemed to close in around us, the air thick with a palpable tension, as if the very walls bore witness to my surrender.

“You will never leave me,” he murmured, his eyes locked onto mine with an unbreakable determination. “You are mine, forever.”

I nodded, the movement small and almost imperceptible, but it was enough. It was a surrender, a relinquishment of my will to the dark force that was Hoseok. He pulled me into his arms, and I felt my resolve melt away, my body becoming a canvas for his power, intermingling with the strange warmth of our shared connection.

As his darkness enveloped me, I felt a disturbing sense of belonging. In the shadows of the night, under his control, my fears and desires tangled together, creating a new reality that was both terrifying and intoxicating. In that moment, I understood there was no turning back. I was his, bound in body and soul by the twisted threads of fate and desire.

Hoseok’s eyes softened as he pulled me close, his cold skin a stark contrast to the feverish heat of my own body. His embrace was a strange sanctuary, a place where I felt both ensnared and cherished. My mind, once a battleground of conflicting emotions, had slipped into a state of blissful madness. In Hoseok’s dark embrace, I discovered a twisted joy that defied all rational thought.

“I’ve given you everything,” he murmured, his breath cold against my ear. “We are bound now, Y/N. Forever.”

His words were a chilling promise that resonated through the marrow of my bones, a haunting echo that left me trembling uncontrollably. I clung to him, my grip a mix of desperate need and profound terror, as a disturbing form of happiness took root in the darkest corners of my mind. The loss of my old life, the sacrifice of everything I had once held dear, seemed like a fevered dream compared to the unsettling contentment I felt in his arms.

As the first light of dawn filtered into the room, casting long, distorted shadows that twisted and writhed, I looked at Hoseok with a gaze that was both adoring and disturbingly fractured. The vibrant world I had once known had dissolved into a distant memory, replaced by a nightmarish existence defined by the twisted love and passion we shared. My heart swelled with a love so profound it overshadowed any lingering regret, even as my mind spiraled further into chaos.

Hoseok’s final words were a chilling promise wrapped in disturbing tenderness. “Remember, Y/N,” he whispered softly, his voice a ghostly caress in the dim light. “You are mine, in every sense—in your heart, in your mind, and in your soul.”

As the door creaked shut behind him, the morning light seeping in like a reluctant witness, I was left enveloped in the oppressive embrace of the darkness we had forged together. My smile, twisted and unnatural, reflected the bizarre, unsettling happiness I had found in the abyss. I was forever bound to the night, my soul tangled in the shadows of Hoseok’s dark desires.

The room seemed to breathe with the remnants of his presence, each corner cloaked in an oppressive stillness that mirrored the void he had filled within me. The silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the cacophony of fragmented thoughts that raged in my mind. Now, there was only the echo of his words, the haunting promise of a future forever intertwined with his darkness.

I lay there, wrapped in the aftermath of our twisted union, my body marked by the evidence of his possession. Each bruise, each bite mark was a grotesque map of the new life I had been forced into. The pain was now a distant echo, overshadowed by the profound and disturbing contentment that gnawed at my chest—a contentment born of both surrender and madness.

As the minutes ticked by and the morning light grew stronger, I found myself replaying his final words in my mind, my thoughts fracturing with each repetition. “You are mine, in every sense—in your heart, in your mind, and in your soul.” The truth of those words reverberated through me like a haunting mantra, a binding contract signed with my very essence, even as my grip on reality slipped further away.

There was no turning back, no reclaiming the life I had once known. I was irrevocably his, a willing participant in the dark dance we had begun. The thought brought a grotesque smile to my lips, a smile that spoke of a happiness found in the shadows, a contentment born of surrender and madness.

At least, I wanted to believe it was madness alone that made me forget how afraid I was.

October 31, 2024

The house had become an enigmatic beast, its former guise of normalcy utterly transformed. From the street, it looked like any other home—silent and shadowy against the midnight sky. But within its walls, it was something else entirely. The shutters were clamped shut, keeping out any unwelcome glimmers of daylight. The curtains, heavy with dust, obscured the outside world, making everything inside a surreal, dreamlike blur.

Within this labyrinth of darkness, the house seemed like a twisted echo of a familiar nightmare. The air was thick with the mingling scents of old incense and stale dreams, creating a heavy, almost intoxicating atmosphere. Flickering candlelight cast eerie, jittery shadows that danced and twisted, as if mocking my attempts at normalcy. Silence pressed down on me, almost alive in its oppressive weight.

Days blurred into one another, each indistinguishable from the next in a fog of disorientation. Hoseok’s routines had become my own, though I couldn’t quite remember how or when they had taken over. My existence revolved around small tasks—cooking, cleaning, and performing acts of devotion—that had evolved into a kind of ritualistic pattern. It was as though each action was a silent offering to the enigmatic darkness that had enveloped our lives.

When I glanced in the mirror, the person staring back was a ghostly apparition of my former self. My face, serene to the point of being unsettling, bore a look of eerie contentment. I was a wraith, drifting through my days with a confusing mix of dread and satisfaction.

As night fell, the house came alive with an almost palpable energy. Hoseok’s presence was overwhelming, filling the space with his dark, commanding aura. His arrival was always marked by the ritualistic locking of doors, a subtle reminder of his control. The sensations of pleasure and pain that accompanied his touch had become a surreal symphony, a haunting reminder of the path I had chosen.

One particularly cold night, as the moonlight filtered through the grime-covered windows, Hoseok and I stood together, looking out into the void. The world outside was a distant blur, an irrelevant expanse that felt disconnected from my reality. The sky stretched above us, a vast, unyielding black, reflecting the emptiness of my existence. We were bound together by something primal and deep, though its true nature remained elusive.

Time inside these walls seemed to warp and distort. The house, once a symbol of normalcy, had turned into a crypt of our peculiar existence. The outside world had faded into obscurity, replaced by the certainty of Hoseok’s presence. I had found a strange form of happiness in this eternal night, where the terror of the outside world had been replaced by the dark, enveloping comfort of Hoseok’s embrace.

As I settled into my favorite worn leather chair, the house seemed to pulse with anticipation for Hoseok’s return. My knitting supplies were spread around me, with a scarf for Hoseok in progress. I hummed softly, my heart beating with a sense of calm and eager expectancy, as if I were awaiting a beloved dream to resume.

I replayed our last conversation in my mind, Hoseok’s words lingering like a haunting melody. “An old friend is coming for a visit,” he’d said, a hint of mischief in his voice. “She’s good at dealing with werewolves.”

I couldn’t suppress a bubbling laugh, the sound rising unbidden. “Isn’t she the one Namjoon’s obsessed with?”

His kiss on my temple had been darkly tender, sending shivers of pleasure through me. “Clever girl. It will be fun.”

I teased him playfully. “Don’t cause too much trouble.”

His laughter resonated through me, sending a thrill down my spine. “When have I ever been nice, lamb?”

“Nice to me,” I’d replied, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Very, very nice.”

Settling back into the leather chair, the hearth’s flickering light casting long, shifting shadows, I resumed my knitting with a serene focus. Each stitch felt like a small act of devotion, a testament to my growing obsession. I hummed softly, my heart a silent witness to the peace I had found in this twisted, eternal night. The lines between fear and love, sanity and madness, had merged into a strange, intoxicating tapestry that I no longer fully understood.

Hoseok said I was perfect. His praise was a balm to my disoriented soul.

I smiled, pushing away any lingering doubts about my sanity. I was fine. I was perfect.

Pager Codes:

110 307 - Go To Bar

209 - On My Way

08 - OK

420 - You’re in trouble

3011 - Be Careful

221 - Where are you?

419 - I don’t understand

100 - Come Back

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[kiddbegins]

Texting - Matt Casey

Requested: yes

Word count: 436

A/n: sorry it’s tiny but I think it’s cute

Masterlist

Texting you cheesy things that they know will make you blush while you’re at work (engaged - doctor at med)

If there was one thing that Matt Casey was, it was a love struck doofus. He always gave his all to those he loved. You were no different.

The problem though was the conflict of shifts. His 24 hours along with your daily 12’s. It wasn’t the easiest thing to make work.

But you guys did. And now you were engaged and you were truly over the moon about it. The ring had picked out was perfect and if you didn’t know better you’d say he had it made custom.

Today you were at work, him simultaneously on shift in the middle of the crazy snow storm that was going on outside.

Winter always made you worry more and he knew that, so his slew of texts when he had the chance grew tenfold. Which you barely knew was possible.

‘I really can not wait for this shift to be over. I miss you.’

Your smile was wide as you read over the text from Matt, knowing this small breather at the vending machine was probably one of the few you’d gotten this shift, winter meant idiots driving stupidly in the snow and getting hurt.

It had been hell, helping patients left and right, barely any time to breathe. You sent out a brief reply ‘same here. I miss you too :(‘ before having to go back to work.

You felt the buzz of your phone in your coat pocket a while later, Maggie telling you about something that had to do with a patient that swirled in one ear and out the other as you read over yet another text from Matt.

‘It’s freezing but it’s getting closer to see you. Thought about what we should do yet? ;)’

A light blush crossed your cheeks as you stuffed the device away, turning to go to the patient but of course being cornered by said nurse.

“God that boy has you whipped as hell doesn’t he,” Maggie had nudged your side as you tried to hide the tinge to your face.

It was useless of course, especially with her. “He does not. I’m just happy to be marrying someone that I love, okay?” You said defensively, laughing at the end.

Those that knew you, knew the story of your ex and how horribly that ended. So the fact you found yourself a big, strong firefighter to get over them had all of them clapping their hands together.

Maggie hummed, nodding, “Uh-huh, and that love has you whipped. Incoming, you’re going to Baghdad.” She switched to instructor mode swiftly as her device beeped, the patient wheeling in seconds later.

JOIN MATTS TAGLIST HERE!

tags: @winchesterszvonecek, @halsteadbrasil, @wnbweasley, @firetruckstuckley

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita for leaving my roommate to “fend for himself”?

🍙 - to find this later

i’ve been living with my roommate and boyfriend in an apartment for 2 years (all men in our mid 20s). when we first started living together we would cook, but recently i personally haven’t had the energy to cook much, and it’s a rare occurrence for the other two as well so we end up ordering food a lot (i know, waste of money but we’re all employed adults).

we usually order our meals together & rotate who pays when we do order food. in the last year bf has been working the graveyard shift so he sleeps during the day. roommate has a job that begins early in the morning so he goes to sleep early, around the time bf has to get up for work. i work a hybrid desk job and have been starting up my meds again which make me sleepy, so i usually take a nap in bed with my boyfriend after work if i’m home.

all this to say that recently our mealtimes have been disjointed and we end up missing each other more than not.

the part where me & my boyfriend may be be assholes is: if we wake up and roommate is sleeping, we’ll order in food for ourselves (usually bf has to either take it with him to work or he’ll eat it when he gets back from work). roommate will sometimes order in food for himself when this happens (and sometimes will do so even if it doesn’t) and thats fine with us, but recently he made a comment about us basically “leaving him to fend for himself” when this happens.

to be clear- the shared meals is a courtesy thing bc i didn’t want to feel guilty if we ordered food in as a couple & my roommate had to fend for himself (i’ve mostly gotten over this since he’s a grown man who can take care of himself, but some guilt is still there ngl) we are all aware of this mutual agreement.

for add. context, before he got this current job few months ago, roommate worked an hour a week min wage and was on disability that covered his base living expenses, so he was pretty broke all the time (now he works 4-5 days a week for 6-10 hour days).

during this time bf and i would cover most of the meals (5-6/7 days a week) and have never asked to be paid back since we just considered the times he’s provided meals as equal payment (usually cheaper meals like pizza, when bf and i order in meals that are a bit more substantial).

when he made the fending for himself comment, he also mentioned that he was pretty broke lately because he had to get his dog groomed (but also left out that he spent $200 on trading cards at the beginning of the month, (he’s a grown adult that can spend his money on what he wants (but that also means that his financial state is not my responsibility))

that recent comment put a bad taste in my mouth, and i’m feeling a bit petty so i’m just waiting for him to go to bed before ordering dinner today. (i feel like im at least JAH for this).

bf and i are moving out soon due to misc issues with the apartment so this won’t matter soon but i just wanna know:

AITA?

(also usually when i see super long aita submissions im like damn u can’t condense this a bit?? but now i’ve fallen victim to the very thing i criticized, sorry ppl i unfairly judged)

What are these acronyms?

[dinsdjrn]

gone, from austin | j. miller | part two

brothers best friend!pre-outbreak!joel x f!reader

summary: Joel Miller: the one that got away; right person, wrong time. Now you’re back in Austin and it hurts just as bad, as if you’d never left five years ago. [w.c. 2.4k]

warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, no use of y/n, light angst, Sarah is alive and well, f!reader, smoking, depression, brief mentions of a mental breakdown, implied cheating (not joel), ex-lovers to lovers, eventual smut, slow burn, lmk if i missed anything <3

💌 a/n: FINALLY a part two? who am i?? anyways not sure how i feel about this story... but i know how i want it to end so ill keep going for that. lmk your thoughts <3

previous part | next part | masterlist

Part two | May 2002

You were a work of art, that’s the hardest part.

It had been three weeks since you had gotten home. You had become more than a bit of a hermit, looking and applying for jobs. You made yourself sparse in the house, you understood everything your brother did was an open invitation to you, but it was easier to disappear. It also gave you time to process, when you left Toronto it was a whirlwind, but now it was a dulling ache. Friends had reached out, wondering where you went, if you were okay. You gave them enough information so they wouldn’t worry, but not enough to come looking for you.

It was Friday morning, just like any other morning, you were searching through medical journals and websites looking for job postings. Search, apply, wait, and wait some more. It wasn’t very thrilling, but it was something to do to keep your head above water.

The alarm on your phone had begun ringing, 10 am, you reached into your desk drawer and took your meds. They filled a hole in your head you hadn’t known was there until you had a small breakdown two years ago. It was something only a few people in your life knew about, it wasn’t something you ever really wanted out there. There was almost a shamefulness to it, no one in Austin knew, and then one person in Toronto who knew about it was no longer welcome in your life. So you move on, continue as you have and hope that your ticket out comes sooner rather than later. 

A soft knock came at your door. 

“Come in!” You said, closing the desk drawer quickly. 

“Hey! Someone is at the door for you,” Kelsey popped her head in and smiled. 

You looked down at your Dell Med School t-shirt and Roots sweatpants and laughed lightly. 

“Is it anyone important?” You asked embarrassed gesturing to your pajama centered clothing choices. 

“I am sure they won’t even notice.”

You sighed and stood up, you lightly stretched and made your way downstairs. Just as the entryway came into view there was Sarah and Joel, Sarah with her backpack on and Joel shifting uncomfortably looking at the floor. 

“Hey guys,” you said, smiling at them. 

“Hey!” Sarah smiled. 

“What’s up? Shouldn’t you be at school already?” You questioned. 

“I had a dentist appointment this morning. We just came back to the house to grab my bag, but I wanted to see if you were around tonight,” She swayed, clearly hoping you’d say yes.

“I’m uh-, not sure,” You looked at Joel for guidance but he wasn’t paying any attention to you his sole focus was on Sarah. 

“I just really wanted to have that sleepover you promised! My dad is going out tonight and suggested it would be a good time for us to hang out and -“

“But only if you are available and want to,” Joel interrupted.

“Oh, yeah! That sounds like it could be fun. Why don’t I come over around 5ish and we can order some pizza?” You smiled at her. 

It would be much more comfortable without Joel there, you had felt like you were walking on eggshells when he would pop over to have a beer with Jake or help Kelsey fix things around the house. 

Joel nodded. 

“Alright baby girl, time to get you to school,” he began shuffling Sarah out the door. 

“See you tonight!” Sarah called over her shoulder. 

You waved at her in response and when the door clicked closed you pinched the bridge of your nose. 

“You know, she really did miss having you around,” Kels leaned against the doorway behind you. 

“I know,” You sighed, “I just don’t know what I’m getting myself into.”

“What do you mean? You’ve known her since she was just a little kid. You’re not getting yourself into anything except maybe forgiving yourself for hurting her.” Kelsey said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“You don’t fucking get it! This isn’t a permanent solution. I can’t stay, I don’t belong here anymore! I don’t want to get her hopes up that I might by hanging out with her and letting things go back to the way they were. That will just hurt her again.” You snapped, a pang of annoyance in your chest.

“You being here and ignoring her, it hurts them both. You can talk a big game about how you don’t belong here, but this is your home, your family. I don’t know what happened between you and Joel, but it is clear he still cares about you. Is staying really the worst thing? At least thinking about it?” 

“They are not my family, you and Jake absolutely are. And you’re right, maybe this was home once, but it’s not anymore. All that’s left is a permanent scar of what could have been. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” You turned to walk up the stairs. 

Kelsey came and put her hand over yours on the railing. 

“Look I’m sorry if I overstepped. I only want to see you happy,” Her voice was soft and apologetic. 

You just nodded in response and made your way back up the stairs, once in your room you made your way to the bed and cried into your pillow. You knew the love for Austin was there, it had always been there, but so was the hurt. The pain would always be there too, it painted your soul in blues and grays. That’s the hardest part, how beautifully life painted your anguish here. 

The day came and went quickly, and you felt unprepared for your sleepover with Sarah. You knew it would be nice to hang out, do face masks and watch a few movies, but your anxiety was palpable. You were worried it would feel like grasping at a life you could’ve had, but were strictly denied. 

You made your way next door around five and before you could even knock the door had swung open and Sarah was pulling you inside. 

“You’re here! Finally, I’ve been thinking about what we could do tonight all day. Dad said he would call a few pizzas in, we went to CVS after school too! I got nail polish, face masks, and some weird snacks,” Sarah spoke excitedly. 

It gave you a bit of whiplash, barely able to even get in a few “Alrights” or “Sounds Fun”’s in. 

“Woah, woah, Sarah slow down,” Joel said as you made your way into their living room. 

He was sitting on the couch in a black t-shirt and Levis, his hair was wet and the messy ways were pushed off his forehead. He was still so devilishly handsome, he never tried too hard with his looks, but that didn’t mean he didn’t look good; it arguably made him more attractive. 

“A’right, I’m going to get outta here,” He put his hands on his lap and made his way to stand, “Tommy is gonna be here any second.” 

“Dad, did you remember to order pizza?” Sarah asked with a hint of annoyance. 

“Oh shit,” he felt his pockets pulling out his phone, “I’ll call on the way over to the bar.”

“Don’t worry about it, Joel. I’ll get it,” You smiled softly at him, pulling out your own phone. 

“Y’sure?” He asked. 

“Yes, yes, she’s sure, now, go have fun. We have a very important girls night to get started on.” Sarah shooed her father toward the door.

Joel just laughed and rolled his eyes, you shrugged in response. 

As soon as you heard the door shut Sarah came rushing back to the living room. 

“Sorry, he’s a mess,” Sarah laughed.

“I can see that nothing has changed,” You laughed with her. 

You both fell into a comfortable conversation, it was nice to see Sarah so happy. She was completely different then when you had left, yet somehow exactly the same. 

The night was spent watching cheesy rom-coms, doing face masks and nails, and eventually Sarah had fallen asleep in her pajamas on the couch. It was nearly one in the morning, you placed a blanket over her small frame and began quietly tidying the living room. 

The night had warmed your heart in a way you weren’t sure you’d be able to feel again. Sarah was such a light in your life for so long, and now she was turning into this beautiful and kind teenager. You had talked all about her school, Joel and Tommy’s shenanigans, and what’s been happening around Austin. She didn’t push you though, you had talked about Toronto and being away from home without delving into any fresh wounds.

 It was nice, it felt good to know when you left it wasn’t your last memory of Sarah. You worried for years it had been and you’d have to watch her grow through the lens of your brother, but here she was in the flesh. 

You sighed, putting the leftover pizza in the fridge and pouring any extra soda from your glasses down the drain. You went and checked on Sarah after you had finished cleaning up to make sure she was still sleeping. She hadn’t even stirred, so you took this as the best opportunity to step outside and have a smoke. 

It wasn’t something you were proud of, but was something that you would normally only do after particularly stressful days. Today would classify as one, you didn’t like fighting with Kels. That, plus the anxiety of coming to the Miller’s and not knowing what to expect, warranted a need to de-stress. 

You made your way into the backyard, only closing the screen door in case Sarah woke up, and placed a cigarette between your lips. Just as you were searching through your bag for a light a voice startled you. 

“Hey, I didn’t know you smoked?” Joel. 

Fuck, you knew he probably wouldn’t have been much later, but it felt pathetic to be sneaking a cigarette on his back porch. 

“Not often, but you’d be surprised how common it is in healthcare.” You said finding the lighter and lighting the end. 

He looked at you for a moment, and you realized maybe he didn’t want you smoking on his back porch. 

“Oh, shit sorry, you okay if I-“ 

“Oh, yeah, I don’t really care,” he hurried before you could finish your question.

“Cool,” you said. 

The silence grew uncomfortable between you two. 

“I, uh, didn’t mean to startle y’a there,” Joel said. 

“Oh,” 

“I just saw the light on and wondered if you were out here.” 

“And here I was…”

“Here you were,” He shifted, “You always loved it back here. Sitting looking up at the stars after Sarah went to bed.”

“Yeah, I think I missed the stars the most while I was in Toronto,” you sighed. 

“I always thought they’d’ve had more stars up there,” he looked up at the sky. 

You had finished about half of the cigarette and put it out, it wasn’t doing anything for you at the moment except make you want to shower. 

“Not in the city, it was like a shitty, colder, New York,” You laughed. 

Joel chuckled at your comment. He came closer to you and leaned on the railing of the deck with you. It felt almost suffocating, he was so close to you and it felt so intimate. 

“Y’know, we’re really happy you’re here,” He said quietly. 

“Joel, don’t…” you warned. 

“I mean it, Sarah never stopped asking about you. She missed you, this girl's night made her whole year.” 

“Joel, please,” you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. You already carried so much guilt for leaving Sarah with nothing but a goodbye. You knew he was trying to comfort you but he was crushing your soul with guilt instead. 

“I’m sorry darlin’ I just… always asked myself what if things were different. Where we would be, how would Sarah be different if you had stayed,” 

His words ignited a fire within you, one that burned in anger and resentment. Who was he to ask what if, when he gave no choice in whether or not you had a chance at finding out. 

“We could talk about maybes and what ifs until we’re blue in the face, it doesn’t turn back time. Doesn’t change anything between us. You made a choice, Joel, and so you don’t get the what if’s,” You snapped. 

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. 

“I’m allowed to wonder,” He retorted. “You weren’t the only one hurt, y’know?”

“Well guess what, I wasn’t the one that wanted out when things got a little bit complicated.”

“Wanted out? You think I wanted out?! Fucking Christ, I didn’t want to hold you back. I have no choice but to stay in Austin, letting you go meant that you wouldn’t be tied down here!” His voice was quiet, but he was clearly irritated.

“I didn’t need you to let me go, I’m very capable of making my own choices. And if I had chosen to stay I needed you to tell me everything would be okay.” 

You weren’t speaking in a hushed tone like he was. You were frustrated, angry, he had completely backtracked on your breakup. Tears stung your eyes, you were frustrated and confused. 

“I’m done talking about this, Joel,” You said, wiping the tears away from your eyes. “You said your piece five years ago, and nothing is going to change that.”

You turned to head back inside, now that he was here you’d be able to walk back over to Jake’s and go to sleep. Make an attempt at forgetting this conversation ever happened and pretend your night ended with you and Sarah asleep on the couch. 

Joel grabbed your wrist before you got too far. 

“Please, just let me explain.” He pleaded. 

You pulled your wrist from his grip and left as promptly as you came. 

Your chest was tight and it was as if you could feel your heart shattering all over again into a million little pieces. The ghost of his love haunted you for years. He was still the same man you fell in love with, that much was certain. In that, it also meant, he was still the same man who broke your heart. 

And that was a risk you were not willing to take. 

To spiral out, to try and float, to see a friend, to see a ghost.

tags: @thetriumphantpanda @fruit-frogs @wand-erer5 @missgurrl @casa-boiardi @harriedandharassed @undrthelights @wishyoudaskme @reader-without-a-story @morning-star-joy @tightjeansjavi & once again sorry if i missed anyone or lmk if youd like to be on the taglist xo.

[memphisnovels]

Evermore

Chapter 7. If we survived the Great war

Masterlist

Previous chapter

Hello hello! Chapter 7 friends

Following this chapter Evermore is going to be Pietro central, so I hope you all enjoy, so much flirting and arguing to come x

pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC

warnings: BFF Anna, angst, injuries, PTSD, proof Tony Stark has a heart

My vision was foggy when my eyes opened once more. The slow rhythm of a monitor beeping filled my ears as I glanced around the room, it wasn’t a hospital, but it definitely wasn’t the Avengers Tower either. My attention was piqued by the sound of a door opening and closing.

“Welcome back,” Anna murmured, a soft smile coming to sit on her face. “You gave us all quite the scare.” I shifted in the bed, attempting to sit up. “Just take it slow, Nads, you’re on a lot of pain meds and you don’t want to pop a stitch.”

I thanked her for the cup of water she handed me. “Where are we?”

“The new Avengers compound. You passed out on the lifeboat; the medics took care of you on board, but you’ve been out since then. Helen Cho worked her magic on you when you got back here.” The moment the water hit my lips it became apparent just how thirsty I was, it was as if I’d been walking through the Sahara for days, my throat dry and torn. “You know a text would have been nice. Didn’t need to be long, just a simple ‘hey Anna heading off to save the world talk to you later’.” I smiled into the cup at her taunting tone. “I mean here I am kicking back in Istanbul, and I get a call from Natasha saying you’re bleeding out in bloody Sokovia.”

My body felt light, as though it were floating. I guessed it was the medication. “Well, I did not want to disturb you, miss superspy.” She rolled her eyes, flipping me her middle finger as she dropped into the seat beside the bed. “I’m sorry, next time a robot man is intent on global destruction I’ll send you an email.”

“Please do!” I snorted at her, resting my head back against the crisp white pillows. “I missed you, smartass. The fiercely independent thing is fine, all I ask is the odd update so I know you’re still breathing, really any sign of life would be much appreciated.”

“Ugh, you people with all your emotions.” I teased, keeping my eyes closed. She huffed in feigned annoyance at my words. “I will try to keep you updated.” I popped a single eye open to watch her roll her eyes and smile at me gently. “How is your peculiar little rat?”

She shook her head at me, a scowl taking over her expression. “By that, I assume you mean my Pomeranian?” I hummed in response prompting her to sigh exasperatedly before telling me how the little creature was faring. “You can pretend to disdain George all you want but I’ve seen you giving him treats and spoiling him with pets.”

“Poor little Georgie, I feel bad for the beast, he is so tiny. Like a little doll, all of the other dogs will bully him.”

We continued like this for a while, catching up on life, at least as much as we could with her MI6 confidentialities and my innate displeasure in sharing my secrets. It was nice, to hear Anna’s voice, to have her here. She was the first person whom I’d found comfort in the presence of. There was safety with her, that is what our friendship was built on. Although, friendship did seem an inadequate word for our kinship. Family was what we had called it over the years, though even now that still seemed such a foreign concept it made my skin crawl each time, I lingered on the thought too long.

“You know you really did give us a scare, Nads.” I nodded at her, poking at the chocolate pudding that had been given to me. The first time I had one of these I was 21 and it was at the hospital in New York whilst I sat at Anna’s bedside after she’d had a particularly tough assignment. At the time I had been disgusted by the thought of this strange brown, custardy substance, even when I tried it, I found myself turned off by the thought of what ingredients went into making the uniquely American delicacy. However, they’d grown on me over the years. “Each of the Avengers have been in to see you that many times it’s becoming a little silly. Thor left you those before heading home.” She nodded toward an egregiously large bouquet of flowers. I bit back a smile at the thought of him purchasing that. What a very odd person. God. Whatever. “Nat got you something as well, she said she left it in your room…” The way Anna spoke then immediately made me suspicious. There was something she wanted to say, something on the tip of her tongue that she was biting back.

I raised an eyebrow at her but still she remained silent, swallowing down what might have been a laugh. “For God’s sake, just spit it out.”

“It’s nothing… I was just saying how you worried us… all of us.” I narrowed my eyes at her. She was trying extremely hard not to laugh now, I could tell. “That Maximoff boy, particularly.” She could no longer stop herself as a little giggle slipped out.

A sigh of utter exasperation came from me as she continued to laugh. “I am not sure what is so funny, Anna. What do I care of that infuriating prick?”

She grinned at me. “He’s been here more than anyone else. Honestly, I wasn’t sure he’d leave your side until I told him to piss off and take a shower.” I rolled my eyes at her. “Seriously he wouldn’t stop pacing around the room, I thought he was gonna wear a hole through the floor.”

I could not believe this woman. “Good for him.”

“He’s cute.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” I muttered shoving a heaping spoonful of pudding into my mouth and attempting a nonchalant shrug.

She narrowed her eyes at me, but I simply avoided her gaze. “Are you sure?” I did not like her tone.

“He is a terrorist.”

“No one’s perfect.” I gaped at her implication, her gaze remained set on me, unwavering. It was not okay with me that she felt she could see through me so easily. “Plus, I wouldn’t really call him a terrorist, an idiot? Maybe, but he joined the Avengers in the end so…” She shrugged, stealing a spoonful of pudding from me.

“You are beginning to piss me off now.”

She only laughed again, taking another spoonful of the chocolatey goodness. “Why because I’m right and you’re saying the exact same thing in your head?”

I opened my mouth to disagree but before I could get the words out her phone began ringing, cutting me off. She pulled up a bag from beside her feet, laying it on the end of the bed. “I’m so sorry, I have to get this. I’ll be back to check on you in a little while.” I nodded, gesturing for her to go.

Unfortunately, I was not left alone for very long as Dr. Cho came in to check on me. “I am feeling much better now, can I go?”

She breathed a laugh, checking over the machine and taking a quick look under the bandage at my hip. “You’ll be fine to leave whenever you’re ready, Nadia. The wound looks far better already.”

“Great. I do not want any of the special medicine either, just give me the basics, nothing that affects my consciousness.”

“I would recommend taking something stronger for the pain, your body can heal without the medication, but you’d be putting yourself through so much unnecessary pain. You sustained a lot of damage, there’s no shame in taking something a little stronger.”

I pulled the blankets off of my legs, swinging them over the side of the bed. Within the bag, Anna had left was a clean set of clothes for me to change into. “I’ve had worse. I’ll be fine. Thank you, Dr Cho.”

She shook her head and sighed quietly, handing me two little bottles. “It’s your choice, I’m giving you something stronger as well just in case.” I took the bottles and tossed them into the bag, ignoring her look of frustration. “All right, well keep an eye on the wound and come back in a couple of days so I can check the healing progress.”

When I was alone again, I slipped into the small bathroom attached to the med bay, pulled off the hospital gown, and stepped into the shower. Most of the blood had been wiped from me though there was still quite a lot, alongside all sorts of dirt and debris which clung to me. The water ran black and red as it swirled down the drain, taking with it the stress and agonies of my time in Sokovia. A deep ache set into my muscles as the medication began to wear off, bringing me to a crisper consciousness where pain lay in wait.

I left the medical wing, swallowing down the agony that seared in my body as I wandered aimlessly down the unfamiliar hallway. The compound was quite fancy, not that it surprised me, Stark did have a flare for that kind of thing. Glass panes surrounded me, glossy floors which the light bounced off of.

“Hey, kid!” I glanced over my shoulder to see the man himself approaching me. “Glad to see you’re back on your feet, come on I’ll show you your new room.” He walked beside me, keeping pace with my pained, slightly slower stride. “What do you think of the new place? Nice huh? I thought the windows made it a little reminiscent of the tower, plus you know light and all that good stuff.” The end of his sentence came swiftly, almost as if he were glossing over the words as he spoke to them, he glanced at me so briefly it was almost unnoticeable.

“Yes, it’s… it’s nice, different to the tower, but nice.”

He nodded quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, definitely. Less light pollution out here though.” I remained silent as he showed me to my new room. It was spacious and the walls were white. Not sterile, hospital-white, rather a softer, warmer white that made it feel open. A large, plush bed sat in the middle of a wall, surrounded by side tables, and in the corner sat an empty bookshelf and a desk but none of these things were what held my attention. There was a whole wall lined with beautiful glass windows, the sun trickling through to bathe the furniture in warmth. I stepped toward them, holding a hand out to let the rays of sun engulf my flesh. “It’s a lot of light I know, but I had controls installed to tint the windows as much or as little as you want. All with the click of this remote.” He held up a little white controller. “They can go completely blackout, or you can just dim it, they’re also one-sided so you can see out, but no one can see in.” He spoke the way he always did, with that cool disposition that made him seem untouchable. He spoke as if it were nothing, when to me, this meant more than he’d ever know.

A picture frame sitting on the bedside table caught my attention, it was simple but nice, inside lay a photograph of Natasha and me. I picked it up to examine it closer, it was the night Ultron had attacked us in the Avenger’s tower when Nat had insisted we take a picture together before the party. Stuck to the top corner of the frame was a pink Post-it note.

What could be more you than your own face?

As I gazed into the glass encasing the image, I was able to see my own reflection staring back at me. I was smiling and my eyes were watery. Quickly placing the picture back down on the nightstand I looked at the roof, pretending to be stretching my neck as I took a deep breath.  “You asked me what she showed me.” I finally spoke after a few long moments.

He asked what I meant.

“You asked me what the witch showed me, in the shipyard.” I turned to face him then.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, I don’t, and I’m not going to either. Not now.” He raised an eyebrow at me. I exhaled deeply before continuing. “The place where I was raised… it was dark, and it was cold all the time and there was never music. For most of my life, that was what I knew, cold, dark, silence.” I could feel his gaze on me, but I did not meet it. “I don’t mind the light pollution in New York because it means that it is always light. I like the sound of the traffic because when I wake up during the night, there is sound. I asked you for a room with windows so that I always know, I am not in that place.” I shook my head. “Not anymore.”

There was silence again then. We stood facing each other but not meeting each other’s gaze, sitting in a silence that was surprisingly comfortable. He nodded. “Okay.” It was a word atop an exhale. A word that was simple, but in that moment, it had weight. It was an acknowledgement and it meant something to me. He turned to the door, placed the little remote on the desk, and took a step forward.

“Tony.” Both of us froze at the sound of my voice. In all the years that I’d known this man, I had never once called him by his first name. “You are a mad scientist, and sometimes a bit of a prick.” He smiled sheepishly, furrowing his eyebrows slightly at my words. “But you are also a good man, a man who saved the world. Thank you.” I looked toward the beams of sunlight streaming through my windows.

“I’ll see you around, Nads.” He spoke, turning to leave. Before he stepped out of the room, I saw the way his lips curved upward, it brought a soft smile to my own face.

…

Anna did come back, just as she said she would. She had to board a flight back to England to report to MI6 before leaving again for her next assignment. It was a busy life, one that we had in common. “You know sometimes I think maybe I should’ve chosen MI6 over S.H.I.E.L.D. Then I would not have to contend with jaded AI and near doomsday events on a weekday.”

She laughed. “It would be nice to get to see you more often.” She wrapped me in her warm embrace and for a moment I tensed, but then it was Anna, and it was okay. She exhaled softly, shaking her head as she pulled away with a small, earnest smile. “No... Superhero suits you better.”

I narrowed my eyebrows at her, an amused smile spreading across my lips. “Look after yourself.”

“No, you look after yourself.” She spoke, her tone shifting to a scolding one, like an older sister. “I mean it.” She added, pointing at me.

When she was gone, and it was quiet I slipped into the large bed facing the windows. For a while, I just watched the intricate patterns drawn on the marble floors by the sun trickling in. “J.A.R.V.I.S… are you there?” I spoke into the room, feeling a little silly for the bubble of hope in my chest. For a moment there was silence, and I was almost embarrassed, of course, he was not there, J.A.R.V.I.S was installed into the red man they called Vision.

“Hello, Nadia. My name is F.R.I.D.A.Y, Mr. Stark has installed me in the Avengers compound now that J.A.R.V.I.S has left.” It was a woman’s voice, she was Irish. “Perhaps I can help?”

I swallowed heavily. “It is very quiet in here...” My words trailed off, I did not know what to say and it felt stupid and weak now.

“The previous Avengers tower was soundproof also so J.A.R.V.I.S emitted quiet cityscape sounds into your room. Would you like me to do this as well?” Her voice was gentle and non-judgmental.

“Yes. Yes, please.”

 The moment I’d finished my sentence the low hum of traffic, wind, and life streamed into the room. “Of course, is there anything else I can help with?”

I lowered myself, resting my head back on the plush pillows and snuggling into the duvet. “No thank you… F.R.I.D.A.Y.” She told me I was welcome and then she was gone. I dimmed the windows slightly, just enough that the sun wasn’t blaring but I could still see out. As soon as I was comfortable, I rolled onto my side.

I couldn’t sleep on my back, not anymore. It was odd to feel incapable of such a mundane thing. In support group, they call things like that a trigger. I’d never found a better term for that feeling that occurs in the dead of night when the room is still, and I am on my back with my eyes closed. It’s the feeling of my legs in stirrups, needles injecting me with a drug that made me feel as though I were underwater. My muscles turned to mush, and my body was stolen from me. Parts that were supposed to be mine. Proof that nothing belonged to me in the Red Room.

I tended to favor side sleeping.

…

When my eyes opened, I was bathed in darkness. I could feel sweat pricking at the back of my neck and my heart was thumping quickly in my chest. Taking a long, deep breath I closed my eyes and focused. The hushed sound of traffic enveloping me, my heart slowed slightly, and I reopened my eyes, snatching the remote and turning the dimmer off on the windows to reveal the silver glow of moonlight. After a while, the air began flowing smoothly into my lungs and my heart returned to its normal rhythm, the sweat dried and I was okay.

I took my time walking to the kitchen, creating a mental map of the compound as I went. It did not take me long to realize that the red was gone, no longer sitting in the corner of my vision, taunting me. I remained vigilant nonetheless, awaiting it’s return so it could not catch me by surprise. Before I turned the corner into the room, I was presuming was the kitchen based on the sound of voices and the sizzling of food in a pan, I leaned against the wall, cradling my wounded side and taking a deep breath. It hurt, a lot. I was only taking the weak painkillers Dr. Cho had given me, none of the stronger medicines, and I was paying the price. My body ached all over and my stomach had begun to cramp from the lack of sustenance. After another moment of rest, I pushed off the wall and made my way into the kitchen. There was a large island bench lined on one side by stools and a dining table across from it. Natasha sat at the island talking to Cap, who was stirring something in a pot at the stove. A glance at the table revealed Vision and the Maximoff twins talking amongst themselves.

“Nads, you’re awake.” Nat beamed when she spotted me causing all eyes in the room to land on me. I raised an eyebrow at her, glancing at Steve when he turned to face me, a novelty apron with the words ‘kiss the chef’ inscribed across the front, wrapped around his body.

“I was wondering if you’d be joining us tonight.” He spoke up offering me a warm smile. “You must be hungry, I’m made some soup, I’m not much of a cook but it smells decent so...”

I ignored the gaze of the enhanced twins, particularly the remorseful look that Wanda gave me and the concerned one her brother supplied. “Nice apron,” I murmured, walking to sit at the end of the dining table as far from Wanda and Pietro as possible. A snort came from Nat and an exasperated sigh from Cap at my comment.

“It was the only one that was here, and I didn’t want to spill on myself.” He mumbled, his tone suggesting that I wasn’t the first to comment on his choice of cooking attire. A moment after I’d sat down there was a bowl of steaming soup placed before me by Steve, followed by a glass of ice water from Natasha beside two little white pills which I assumed were painkillers. I raised an incredulous eyebrow at the two of them as they sat on either side of the table with their own meals.

“What’s with the table service?” The two of them shrugged as if they weren’t sure what I’d meant. I sipped the water before scooting forward to begin eating when I realized I didn’t have a spoon, bracing my hands on the arms of the chair to push myself up. Yet, before my chair was even far enough from the table for me to stand a streak of blue and silver whizzed by. A spoon sitting in front of me before my mind even had time to comprehend what was happening. Glancing down the table to see Pietro seated, casually, as if he’d never left. My eyes narrowed at him from my seat before I glanced back to Nat and Steve who were barely touching their food as they pretended not to be focused on me. I picked up the spoon hesitantly. “Is this because I almost died?” I taunted, causing Natasha to shoot me a sharp glare.

“That’s not funny, Nadia.”

I put my hands up in surrender before beginning to eat. “Geez, tough crowd.” It was almost unbearable to know that I was being surveyed so heavily by the other people in the room, though there was something about it that prompted a warm feeling in my chest, not that I’d ever admit it. “This soup is actually very good; have you been taking cooking classes in your spare time?” I broke the silence, glancing at Steve.

“Actually, I found the recipe on the line.”

“The line?”

Nat bit back a grin, glancing at me. “The web.”

I gasped at that. “You used the internet, all by yourself.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Ha ha, very funny. Yes, I used the internet. I don’t particularly like it, but I must admit it was actually nice, this woman spoke about how the recipe was passed down from her great-grandmother.” Natasha and I shared a look at his admission, evidently, he had chosen to read the entire biography section of the recipe before making this soup.

The smile that sat across my face was hard to shake, try as I might. “Thank you for the food,” I spoke quietly as I continued eating. The overzealous service caretaking continued when I’d finished eating, my dish was cleared before I’d had the chance and my water was refilled. “Honestly, it was 1 bullet, for God’s sake. I am perfectly capable of walking to the bench.”

“Well, you don’t need to, I’m already doing it for you,” Natasha spoke, giving me a pointed look as she stacked the dishwasher. I rolled my head back to hang over the back of my seat in exasperation.

“You’re not going to take the medicine?” A voice piped up causing a wave of irritation to pass over me.

I lifted my head slowly, a lethal look in my eyes as they met his clear blue ones. “Whatever for? I am not in pain.”

“You took a bullet and shrapnel to the side but you’re not in any pain? Of course, this does not sound like you are trying to prove anything at all.”

 A hush fell over the room at his response. When I spoke again my tone was glacial. “I thank you for your concern, but it takes a little more than 1 bullet and some itty-bitty pieces of metal to kill me.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “Perhaps next time the two of you decide to team up with a deranged metal man to kill the Avengers you will keep this in mind.” It was facetious and it was mean, but the words seemed to come from me before I had the chance to stop them.

Wanda swallowed heavily, her sullen gaze falling on the table then. My words silenced Pietro but did not have the intended effect. I’d anticipated anger from him, some nasty words in return but instead all I saw across his face was remorse; it sickened me.

After dinner, Natasha had insisted on showing me around the rest of the compound as I’d been too tired earlier to have a full tour. “That was a little harsh earlier, Nads.”

I asked her what she meant, though I heard my previous words echo in my mind the moment she’d spoken.

“I’m not going to stand here and defend the twins; they made a stupid choice and a lot of people ended up getting hurt.” I was silent as she spoke. “You know what? You’re right, Nadia. It is their fault.”

My eyes widened as I looked over at her, stopping abruptly in my track. “Wh-what? That is not what I said.”

“They killed those people, what happened in Sokovia is their fault.”

I shook my head, unable to believe her words. She did not believe that. “Natasha, what are you talking about?”

“I’m with you, Nads, they should feel terrible, all that blood is on their hands.”

“No, it isn’t!” The way my voice sounded surprized me; I’d never spoken to Nat like that. “It’s not their fault, they were just doing what they thought was right, they were trying to protect those people.” My chest rose and fell rapidly.

A slow, knowing smile spread across Natasha’s lips. The moment it appeared I realized what she was doing, recognized it. A scowl took over my face immediately. “Well, that was surprisingly easy.” I rolled my eyes at her, crossing my arms over my chest. “I honestly wasn’t sure if I’d break you, it’s never been that easy before, you must really care about them.”

I huffed exasperatedly, turning sharply on my heel, and walking away from the smug redhead. “Fuck off, honestly.”

Thank you so much for reading xx

[spencerdubya]

About 5 months ago my life took a huge turn for the absolute worst. I had just completed a bodybuilding competition where I won a pretty big award. After that I went on a vacation with my wife...and that's when the trouble started.

Instead of just chilling and enjoying the vacation I ruined it by worrying about calories and what I was eating etc. I then got fixated on the fact I had ruined our trip and started having what I later realized were bad panic attacks and my heart rate stayed over 100 bpm consistently. I feared I had a heart issue so ended up in the ER after our trip.

Everything checked out, but I was referred to a cardiologist. I went for some in depth testing and waited on the results (which ended up coming back good ptl). In the meantime I was hyper focused on my diet, but then decided to just say screw it and eat whatever I wanted to etc. I ended up gaining 40+ lbs in a very short amount of time and was so disgusted with my body composition and myself.

I also ended up injuring my shoulder during this time and got more depressed about that. Fast-forward I had yet another injury and got pinned under a lot of weight doing a leg press and after I go to the doctor I find out I have cartilage fissures and cartilage does not heal. Talk about hitting rock bottom bc i love lifting weights. So due to all of this and the mental toil, plus work was crazy busy I hit my absolute lowest point. I stop taking any of my meds...start sleeping all of the time and missing work etc.... I end up attempting to unalive myself and one night I completely loose it. My wife calls my dad and her best friend for an intervention and my dad takes me to the hospital where i check myself in to the psych ward/mental hospital.

I stay there for 4-5 days and then once i get out my wife has extensive therapy and ketamine infusions lined up for me etc. These all definitely help, but I am still struggling mentally with how bad I have messed my life up. I forgot to add that my BP got up to like 180/120 multiple times during the ketamine infusions, so now I’m worried that has negatively affected my cardiovascular and renal health. Also just my overall health has  took a turn for the absolute worst . I used to have pristine blood work, but now it is terrible.

Also, I am having to get a colonoscopy and endoscopy done because all of this stress and worry has absolute ruined my GI health. Recently (2 weeks ago) I was feeling much better and actually was ok with just moving forward, but I injured my right knee pretty badly to the point I am worrying I will need surgery. This just took me back to square one and right back in the hole I had almost crawled out of.

I cannot win for losing and if you want to talk about bad luck that is literally the story of my life as of late. One problem after the other with no breaks...it's like a sad, sad tragedy. It is like I am cursed! I went from on top of the world to the absolute depths of hell in 5 months. I just look around and say this cannot be real life…no one’s life can be this negative and sad…I’m going to wake up from this nightmare soon…I spend Every day hating myself and what my life has become.

The only bit of joy I have is from my wife and my 3 kids. I am absolutely wrecked though seeing what all of this has done to them also. I can just tell how hurt my wife is and my kids attitudes reflect the fact that dad isn't himself anymore...it breaks my heart into pieces.... I want to fix it but I cannot.

The only thing that would correct it all and heal the damage is to go back to late May/early June of this year and make a few small changes that would take my life from Hell to Heaven and make everyone happy again. I could be the absolute best version of myself for my wife....my kids..my job...and for me!

Can anyone help?!?! I must shift...everything depends on it....

Thx!

[girlinlotsoffandoms]

day four - head injury

notes: welcome back for febwhump day four! Squad 3 has made it to the hospital but will they all be ok?

this storyline got away from me so enjoy part two and part three will be up tomorrow!

read on AO3 or below

The doctors in the emergency department at Gaffney Medical Center were waiting by the ambulance bay for the ambulances carrying the members of Squad 3 to arrive. They first heard about a car accident involving firefighters when Ambo 57 arrived with the delivery driver. At first, they assumed it was just another unfortunate weather-related accident but that all changed when the medical team learned the driver was drunk and caused the accident.

More and more information came out in the minutes that followed as the paramedics filled them in with what they knew. Goodwin also received a call from Boden at the scene, which gave the doctors more insight into what to expect. They were as prepped and ready as they could be to help their friends and fellow first responders, it was now just a waiting game for them to arrive.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, the sound of sirens could be heard closing in on the hospital. It was go time.

… … …

Stella followed Kelly’s gurney for as long as she could. She listened as Violet and Brett fired off their assessment and detailed their care of Kelly and the precautions taken during and after extraction. 

Stella stayed as close to Kelly as she could, watching as the doctors and nurses began examining him until Maggie gently steered her out of the room with the promise to update when she could. Brett and Violet tried to get Stella to go to the waiting room, but she pivoted when she saw Cruz get rolled in, Capp and Tony walking in behind him.

“Hey,” Stella said, walking over to them. “How we doin’?”

Cruz’s arm was wrapped against his ribs and he had some butterfly bandages on some cuts on his face. Capp and Tony had similar bandages on their faces, some bigger bandages on their arms where the glass cut them, and Stella could see bruises already forming on all of them.

Cruz shrugged his good shoulder. “Pain meds have helped. How’s Severide?”

Stella shook her head. “Still unconscious. There’s definite head trauma, we just don’t know how bad yet.”

The uncertainty and fear in her voice was unmistakable. Stella Kidd was usually unflappable on calls and in the aftermath, even with the worst calls, but Kelly Severide was her kryptonite. When he was hurt or in danger, she struggled to maintain her cool.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine Lieutenant,” Tony spoke up. “Severide’s tough.”

“Yeah,” Stella said quietly. She threw Tony a small smile, knowing he was trying to soothe her nerves.

“Let the doctors check you out,” she said, directed to Capp and Tony. “We’ll be in the waiting room. Cruz, I’ll call Chloe and let her know what happened.”

“Thanks Stella.”

… … …

Stella, Brett, and Violet were waiting in the waiting room for almost an hour by the time Chloe joined them. It took her a while to find a babysitter for Javi and Otis so last minute but Stella had had kept her updated and reassured until she could get to the hospital.

The rest of 51 arrived shortly after Chloe, having finally gotten the scene cleared up. There wasn’t much of an update anyone could give them since none of the doctors had been out to speak with them yet. But it was only a few minutes later when Capp and Tony entered the waiting room.

Boden rose from his chair. “Capp, Tony, what’s the verdict?”

“No concussions, nothing broken, just bumps, bruises, and some stitches on some of the deeper cuts.” Tony answered.

“Won’t even have to miss a shift,” Capp added with a small smile.

“Glad to hear it,” Boden said genuinely. “With the Squad truck out of commission, Headquarters is working on an action plan moving forward until the truck can be replaced.”

Capp and Tony nodded and grabbed a chair with the others to wait for news on their teammates. 

Dr. Ripley came out about 30 minutes later with an update on Cruz. They were going to keep him overnight to monitor his concussion and make sure his bruised ribs didn’t cause any complications with breathing. His dislocated shoulder had been reduced and was safely back in its socket and he’d need some PT to strengthen the ligaments that had been strained.

Cruz would be off work for a few weeks, but he’d make a full recovery. Dr. Archer took Chloe back into the ED to see Cruz before he was moved upstairs to a room.

With good news on three of the four members of Squad 3, the members of 51 settled back into the waiting room chairs to wait for news on Severide.  

… … …

It was another hour before Dr. Archer and Dr. Abrams entered the waiting room with an update on Severide.

Dr. Archer looked at Stella. “Do you want to speak privately somewhere?”

Stella shook her head. Speaking privately usually meant bad news and Stella wouldn’t be able to handle that on her own. “We can talk here. They can hear whatever you have to say.”

“Alright, we’ll start from the bottom and work our way up. His right leg is swollen with deep bone bruising from where the metal had pinned him in the truck. X-rays show nothing’s broken, but we’ll take updated images when the swelling reduces. He has some concerning bruising on his abdomen and we’re keeping a close eye on any internal bleeding but so far, there’s nothing to be concerned with.” Dr. Archer started with the breakdown of Severide’s injuries. He saw everyone’s faces grow more concerned with each update he gave, and Dean was dreading telling them the more serious issues their friend was facing.

“A few of his ribs are broken but we’ve wrapped them and we’ll have one of our Respiratory Therapists work with him. His right humerus is broken as well. By some miracle, it’s a clean break and should heal perfectly without surgery. All spinal scans came back clear of any injury, but we’ll continue to take spinal precautions until he’s awake and we can run more tests.”

“He’s still unconscious?” Stella asked, her voice fearful. It’d been a while since she’d used her paramedic training but she knew Kelly being unconscious this long wasn’t a good sign. 

Dr. Abrams stepped forward. “He is. He has a skull fracture just above his right temple. It’s linear, which is the best-case scenario, but it’s caused quite a bit of swelling and pressure. We’re monitoring his ICP closely and we have him on medication to help reduce the pressure and swelling. We’ll be moving him to the Neuro ICU for monitoring and we will be ready if more intervention is needed.”

“Intervention as in brain surgery?”

“Yes, if necessary. We’re hoping to avoid that, but should we need to intervene, we’re prepared to do so.” Dr. Abrams answered.

Stella was panicked at this point and everyone could see it. Brett grabbed onto her arm to comfort her and Boden walked up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Is he going to be okay?” Boden asked, his voice thick.

Dr. Abrams and Dr. Archer were quiet for a moment and shared a look. Neither of them wanted to break the news. “At this point,” Dr. Abrams started slowly. “It’s unclear. The bruising, the broken bones…they’ll all heal with time. Neurologically? Until he wakes up and we can do more testing, we won’t know.”

Stella was unable to hold the tears back any longer. She appreciated the doctors being straight with her but she hated what they were saying. Kelly would be okay. He had to be. “Can I see him?”

“He’s going to be taken down soon for updated scans and then he’ll be moved up to the Neuro ICU. Once he’s settled, you’ll be allowed to see him.” Dr. Archer confirmed. “It should take a few hours so I recommend going home, changing out of your turnouts, maybe grabbing some food before you come back here.” 

Stella opened her mouth to say something, but Boden cut her off. “Thank you, Dr. Archer. You too Dr. Abrams.”

The doctors nodded. “When you get back just go straight up to the Neuro ICU waiting room. A nurse will take you back as soon as they can.” Dr. Abrams added before he and Dr. Archer returned to the ED.

Boden moved around to stand in front of Stella. “Stella, go home. Get changed, pack a bag, eat something. Then, you can come back here.”

“But Chief—” 

“But nothing. I know you want to be here for Kelly but you need to take care of yourself too. It’s been a hard morning, take a minute to breathe and regroup.”

She didn’t like the idea of leaving the hospital without seeing Kelly, but Stella knew Boden was right. Kelly was going to need her, and she needed to be ready. She nodded, but a fresh round of tears filled her eyes. 

Brett wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

… … …

Stella was back at the hospital after just an hour. She showered, packed a bag (including some of Kelly’s things in there), and scarfed down a quick lunch before heading back to the hospital. 

Not surprisingly, she was the first one back at the hospital. Stella checked in with the nurse behind the desk on the Neuro ICU floor and Kelly was still not back from his scans. She tried to wait it out in the waiting room but her nerves were too bad to sit there by herself. 

She texted Chloe for an update on Cruz and decided to visit them after Chloe sent her his room number. Cruz was looking significantly better, even after a few hours, and it was clear he was feeling better as well.

Stella was able to update him on Capp and Tony but when it came to updating him about Kelly, she faltered. The update Dr. Abrams and Dr. Archer had shared with her earlier still rang clear as day in her ears and she didn’t think she could get through repeating them without completely breaking down.

But Cruz idolized Kelly and was a good friend to them both. He deserved to know.

“Kelly is uh…he’s in bad shape.” Stella’s voice cracked. “The doctors don’t know what his outlook is. They won’t know until he wakes up and they can run more in-depth tests.”

“He’s still unconscious?”

Stella nodded.

“That’s not good, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” Stella shook her head and sniffled.”But they’re doing everything they can for him. They’re going to keep him in the Neuro ICU to monitor him and hopefully, once his body has some time to heal and the swelling goes down he’ll wake up.”

“Have you gotten to see him yet?”

“Not yet. They sent us home while they took him for more scans. Once he’s settled in his room we’ll be able to see him.”

Cruz nodded, then smiled to try and lighten the mood. “When you get to see him, tell them they had to cut up his beloved Squad jacket. That’ll wake him up.”

Stella laughed but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, I bet that’ll do it.”

She hung out with the Cruzes for a few more minutes before Brett texted her and informed her that Kelly was in his room and ready for visitors. Stella quickly said her goodbyes and hurried back to the Neuro ICU floor.  

By the time Stella made it back to the floor, only Boden, Brett, Mouch, Violet, and Carver had made it back to the hospital. Once Stella joined them, the nurse escorted the group of six down the hall to Kelly’s room. It was the closest one to the nurse’s station, another insight into just how serious his condition was.  

Boden and the others stayed outside while the nurse escorted Stella into the room.

They’d cleaned all the blood off of his face and stitched up the wound on his temple, just a few inches above the birthmark she loved so much. His right arm was splinted to keep the bone in place and she imagined he had similar wrapping on his ribs below the hospital gown.

The most unnerving thing was how still and quiet he was, and not in his usual brooding way.

“Dr. Abrams will be in later to go through the results of the scans, but the swelling in his leg has already started to go down. It looks like the meds are doing their job.” The nurse, Emily according to her name badge, said. She touched Stella’s shoulder in passing before she left the room. “Hang in there.”

Stella dropped her bag in the corner and moved to Kelly’s side, pulling up a chair. She grabbed Kelly’s hand and held on tight. “I love you, Kelly Severide. Come back to me. Please.”

Boden and the others lingered outside the ICU room, giving Stella a bit of privacy and time with Severide before they went in to see him. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes….then suddenly Stella shot up from her chair, alarms started blaring, and Severide’s body began to shake as nurses ran in.

“Kelly!”

[ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey]

Later that day, Elle decides to go and check on Annie before finishing her shift, finding her lying on the bed, looking more exhausted than before.

Elle walks in, offering a kind smile “Hey Annie, how are you feeling?”

Annie smiles weakly at Elle, looking gorgeously glum on the hospital bed. “Kinda the same. I think these meds are taking a while to kick in…”

She looks over to the window, dazing slightly, clearly lost in her own thoughts.

Elle looks at her chart, frowning slightly. The antibiotics should have started working by now, and if they were effective, Annie should be significantly improving by the hour.

“Hmm, that’s strange. The antibiotics should have made a noticeable difference by now. Have you noticed any other symptoms?”

Annie shakes her head slowly “No, just the same nausea, itching, and fatigue. And the cramping in my palms hasn’t gone away either, in fact it’s kinda hurting more.”

Elle examines the chart more closely, her mind racing through possible reasons for Annie’s lack of improvement.

“Let me take a closer look at your symptoms again. Maybe there’s …something we missed.”

Elle gently checks Annie’s vitals and inspects the rash on her neck more thoroughly.

As Elle examines Annie, she talks gently at Annie to keep her at ease “So, Annie? What are you studying at the moment? You said you were getting your degree?”

Annie’s voice starts to slur, her words blending together as her eyes flutter against her skin.

“I it’s a ..Degree in… l..literature…”

Suddenly, Annie passes out, her body going limp. The heart monitor next to her bed begins to beep at a faster rate, the erratic rhythm signaling distress. Annie’s body starts to shake, small convulsions wracking her frame.

Elle gasps, her heart leaping into her throat. She shakes Annie gently, her voice urgent but controlled.

“Annie?! Annie, can you hear me?”

Annie remains unresponsive, her body continuing to tremble. Panic wells up in Elle, but she pushes it down, focusing on the task at hand. She quickly reaches over to the code blue button on the side of the bed frame, slamming it with her palm. The alarm blares, sending out a call for immediate assistance.

Elle’s mind races, rapidly reviewing her training as she tries to stabilize Annie. She checks Annie’s airway, ensuring it’s clear, then tilts her head back slightly to maintain it open. She listens for breath sounds, noting the irregularities and gasping.

“Hang in there, Annie. Help is on the way”

Within a moment, Elle hears a voice at the door, turning around to see Jackie, her face shocked.

“Elle?!”

Jackie bursts into the room, eyes wide with concern, just as Elle is initiating CPR.

“Where the hell is the code team?”

Elle’s voice is strained, angry, the stress evident in every word. Her hands press rhythmically on Annie’s chest, each compression a desperate attempt to keep her alive.

Jackie runs over to Annie and Elle, “There was a code in room 205 just before you hit the button. They’ll be tied up for a while.”

“Jackie, I need you to help me. NOW. I’m going to loose her-“

Jackie springs into action without hesitation, grabbing the defibrillator from the side of the room. Her movements are quick and precise, her training kicking in.

“Elle, you need to open Annie’s gown while I continue chest compressions.”

Elle complies, yanking open Annie’s gown with a force that reflects her urgency. The fabric tears slightly under her fingers, but she doesn’t care; all that matters is getting to Annie’s chest.

Jackie leaps into action, “Now set the defibrillator to 300 volts, Elle. Quickly, we’re running out of time!”

Elle’s hands shake slightly as she adjusts the settings on the defibrillator, her mind racing through the steps she needs to follow. She places each pad on the side of Annie’s body, the cool gel making her fingers tingle.

“Clear!”

Elle steps back, her eyes never leaving Annie’s face. The defibrillator discharges, and Annie’s body jerks under the electric shock. For a moment, everything seems to pause, the room holding its breath.

Then, the heart monitor beeps steadily, a normal rhythm returning. Elle lets out a deep sigh of relief, her hands still trembling as she removes the defibrillator pads from Annie’s chest. She quickly checks Annie’s airway, making sure it’s clear, and adjusts the IV line, her mind already calculating the next steps.

Elle’s thoughts race, a mixture of relief and lingering anxiety. We did it. She’s stable for now. But what caused this? Is there something I missed? Her gaze flickers to Jackie, who is wiping sweat from her forehead, her expression one of shared relief and concern.

“Nice work, Elle. But we need to stay vigilant. She’s not out of the woods yet.”

Elle nods, her mind still buzzing with adrenaline. She glances at Annie’s chart, her eyes scanning for any details they might have overlooked.

“We need to run a full panel. There has to be something we missed. This reaction… it’s not typical for an infection.”

“Agreed.” Jackie nods, “Let’s keep a close eye on her vitals and make sure the lab prioritizes her results.”

As they finish securing Annie’s IV and ensuring she’s stable, Elle can’t help but reflect on the intensity of the past few minutes. Her heart still pounds in her chest, but she feels a sense of accomplishment mixed with the ever-present fear of the unknown.

“What the hell is going on in here, Rookie?!”

Elle looks up to find Dr. Ramsey at the door, his voice echoing through the room. His eyes are cold and stern, his body language tense as he bustles into the room, swiftly picking up the chart and scanning it.

“Dr. Ramsey…she was allergic to the antibiotics I prescribed her…” Elle’s voice trembles, but she holds his gaze, knowing that honesty is her best option.

Ethan’s piercing blue eyes meet hers, a flicker of gratitude and understanding behind the stern facade. It’s a brief moment, but Elle senses he appreciates her honesty.

“Well, at least you’re taking responsibility.” Ethan states, his eyes still fixed on Annie’s chart. “Sometimes patients don’t know about their own allergies; that’s why you always have to be cautious.”

Jackie, working swiftly, injects the epinephrine pen into Annie’s thigh. The room holds its breath as Annie’s body takes a shuddering gasp of air.

Dr. Ramsey looks at Jackie, impressed. “Good work, Dr…?”

Jackie smiles, clearly happy with the praise. “Varma.”

Dr. Ramsey’s eyes narrow as he assesses her. “You were assigned to this case with Dr. Rose?”

“No, I was passing and I heard Dr. Rose calling a code blue,” Jackie explains, her eyes gently meeting Elle’s.

Ethan smiles, clearly impressed. “The patient is very lucky you were here. I’m not confident Dr. Rose could have handled this alone.”

Jackie bites her lip, clearly weighing her options before replying, “Thank you, just doing my job, Dr. Ramsey.”

As Jackie takes her leave, Ethan’s eyes lock onto Elle’s, his face contorted with anger, more intense than she had ever seen before.

“And you…” His voice is low, trembling with controlled fury. “You need to have a long, hard think about whether or not you’re ready to be here.” His eyes are like daggers, piercing into her soul. “It doesn’t matter that it’s your first day or that you’re ‘still learning.’ Whether this girl lives or dies, that’s on you.”

Elle feels the weight of his words like a physical blow. Her heart pounds in her chest, her breath catching as she tries to maintain her composure. The reality of her responsibility crashes down on her, mingling with the fear and determination already churning inside her.

“I know, Dr. Ramsey,” Elle feels herself weaken at his words, her heart pounding with the weight of his disappointment.

“You still have no idea what’s wrong with her, And your first effort nearly killed her! This is the real world now, Rookie, there’s no room for mista—”

Just then, an intern walks into the room, her voice bubbling, cutting the tension with a knife. Her smile is softly displayed on her lips, her dark hair in a braid that wraps around her shoulder. She is much, much smaller than Dr. Ramsey, but she speaks with confidence.

“Hi! Dr. Ramsey? Sorry to interrupt.”

Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something about interns under his breath. “For the love of God, what now?”

The intern smiles innocently at Dr. Ramsey. “Well, one of the nurses told me…that one of the interns told them…that one of the doctors said to them…”

Ethan’s voice cuts through the room. “Skip to the point.”

The intern smiles. “Dr. Toussaint needs to see you urgently.”

Ethan rolls his eyes before eying Elle, his gaze still cold from their previous interaction. “Remember what I said, Rookie. Next time I see you, you’d better have solved this.”

With that, he walks out of the room, leaving Elle standing there, her mind swirling with emotions.

Elle’s chest tightens as the reality of the situation crashes over her. Guilt gnaws at her, twisting her stomach into knots. How could she have overlooked the possibility of an allergic reaction? She feels the weight of Annie’s life pressing down on her shoulders, suffocating her with the fear of failure.

Her hands tremble slightly as she recalls Dr. Ramsey’s fury, his disappointment searing into her mind. She’s always admired him, but now she feels like a complete failure in his eyes.

In the hallway, Dr. Ramsey’s departure leaves a wake of tension. His anger still lingers in the air, a palpable reminder of the high stakes they’re all playing for. Elle watches him walk away, a mixture of fear and admiration in her eyes. She knows she has to prove herself, not just to him, but to herself.

Elle smiles, gently leaning against the wall, her hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. Her blue eyes, usually so full of determination, are now clouded with relief. “Thank God for Dr. Toussaint…”

The intern, a petite woman with a bright, warm smile, nods gently at Elle. Her dark hair is pulled back into a neat braid that drapes over her shoulder. “Yeah, it’s too bad that he doesn’t actually need to see Dr. Ramsey.”

Elle’s face frowns at the intern, her eyebrows knitting together, unable to hide her surprise. “What?”

The intern laughs softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I made it up! I could hear Ramsey chewing you out halfway down the hall. I figured you might need a save.” Her smile lingers on Elle, a mix of mischief and kindness.

Elle smiles gently back, the tension in her shoulders easing a bit. Grateful for the help of a complete stranger, she feels a warmth spreading through her. “You lied to Dr. Ramsey for me? That was so…risky, but very sweet. Thank you—”

The intern shrugs with a cheeky grin, her eyes twinkling. “It’s nothing. I’m Sienna, by the way, or Dr. Trinh. Whatever floats your boat.”

Elle extends her hand for a handshake, her grip firm and sincere. “Elle Rose. Thank you again.”

Sienna’s smile is gentle and reassuring. “It’s nothing, I promise. We interns gotta stick together, right?”

Elle nods, reflecting on Ines’s words earlier that morning. “Exactly that.”

Before Sienna turns away, she smiles gently at Elle, her eyes sparkling with warmth. “Oh, By the way, I hear all the doctors hang out at this bar after work. Donahue’s? I think it’s just down the street.”

“Apparently it’s like, the place to go and decompress after work. Wanna come with?”

Elle's smile widens, grateful for the invitation. “Oh sure, that sounds lovely. It’s just I need to survive my shift first…”

Sienna laughs, her voice light and carefree. “Well, assuming you will live through the next few hours, I’ll meet you in the atrium after we clock out.”

With that, she leaves, her footsteps echoing softly down the hallway. As Elle watches her go, she feels a sense of camaraderie and excitement bubbling inside her. The prospect of unwinding with her fellow interns at the end of a long day is a welcome relief, and Elle can't help but look forward to it.

Elle walks down the bustling hospital hallway, her eyes glued to the clipboard in her hand. The fluorescent lights above cast a stark glow, making the white paper of Annie’s results almost blinding. Her brows are furrowed in concentration, the medical jargon swimming before her eyes as she tries to piece together the puzzle of Annie’s condition. The hallway hums with activity – doctors and nurses rushing past, patients being wheeled by, the distant beep of monitors – but Elle is in her own world, her focus laser-sharp on the numbers and notes in front of her.

Her mind races through possible diagnoses, cross-referencing symptoms and test results, trying to catch any detail she might have missed. Annie’s case is a challenging one, and the weight of responsibility presses heavily on her shoulders. She bites her lip in concentration, flipping the pages back and forth, seeking any connection that could explain Annie’s rapid deterioration.

Absorbed in her thoughts, Elle barely notices the path she’s taking. Her feet move almost on autopilot, navigating the twists and turns of the hospital corridors. She’s so engrossed that she doesn’t register the change in surroundings until she comes to a sudden halt.

Lifting her gaze from the clipboard, Elle’s eyes blink rapidly, adjusting to her new environment. The hallway around her is unfamiliar, devoid of the usual landmarks she uses to orient herself. The walls here are lined with different posters, the bulletin boards displaying notices she hasn’t seen before. The faces passing by are unfamiliar, not the colleagues she’s grown accustomed to seeing.

A sense of disorientation washes over her, a brief pang of anxiety tightening in her chest. Elle looks around, trying to get her bearings. The hospital, usually so familiar, feels like a maze. She turns slowly, scanning the area for any recognizable signs or directions.

“Please tell me you’re lost too,” a voice says behind her.

Elle turns to find a young intern sitting in a wheelchair, his expression mirroring her own distress. He’s likely in his mid-twenties, with rich, dark skin that glows softly under the harsh hospital lights.

His dark, curly hair is neatly trimmed, framing a face that exudes both confidence and vulnerability. His eyes are a deep, expressive brown, now filled with a mix of frustration and uncertainty. He clutches a clipboard tightly in his hands, the knuckles of his long fingers white from the pressure.

His attire is slightly rumpled, as if he’s been around the hospital just as much as she has. The scrubs he wears, although slightly oversized, is pristine, a stark contrast to the weary look on his face. A stethoscope hangs loosely around his neck, swinging gently with his every movement.

Elle manages a small, sympathetic smile, feeling a sense of camaraderie. “You too, huh?” she replies, trying to lighten the mood.

The intern nods, his lips curling into a wry grin. “Yeah, I’ve been trying to find my way to the lab for the past ten minutes,” he says, his voice tinged with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “I think I’ve circled this floor twice already.” Elle laughs softly, feeling a bit of her own tension dissipate. “I know the feeling. I’m Elle, by the way. Elle Rose.”

He extends his hand, his grip firm and warm. “I’m Elijah Greene. Nice to meet you, Elle.”

They share a brief moment of mutual understanding, both acknowledging the overwhelming nature of their new roles. “So, Elijah,” Elle says, looking around the unfamiliar hallway, “Any idea how we get out of here?”

Elijah chuckles, shaking his head. “Not a clue. But maybe we can figure it out together.”

“You two look lost, can I help you?”

Elijah and Elle turn around, finding an elderly woman approaching them. Her dark grey hair is lightly curled, framing a face that radiates kindness. An I.V is attached to her arm as she walks. Her eyes, twinkling with warmth, fix on the pair. “I can show you the way to the lift if you would like?”

Elijah smiles appreciatively. “As long as it’s no trouble for you, ma’am.”

The elderly woman laughs, shaking her head slightly. “Not at all, Dr. Ramsey makes me do 12 laps of this floor every day so I don’t drive myself insane!”

Elle and Elijah exchange amused glances as the woman leads them toward the nearest lift.

“Thank you…Mrs.?” Elle inquires, hoping for an introduction.

The woman smiles gently. “Mrs. Teresa Martinez, and don’t worry about it. There are just some things in here you can’t rush, and finding your way is one of them.”

As Mrs. Martinez turns to leave, Elle and Elijah can't help but notice her underwear on show, tucked into her hospital gown. Elle chuckles to herself. “Thank you again, Mrs. Martinez!”

Mrs. Martinez waves a hand back. “Don’t worry about it. Remember, Jeopardy is on at 7:30 if you want to watch it.”

Elijah smiles softly at Elle as the lift doors close. “Aw man, you didn’t want to tell her about her underwear?”

Elle laughs, shaking her head slightly before turning to Elijah. “I’m pretty sure she does it on purpose.”

Elle smiles gently, talking to Elijah in the lift. “Seriously, this place is like a maze. I didn’t realize it was this huge when I applied here.”

Elijah nods, his eyes still showing signs of fatigue. “I know what you mean. It is quite overwhelming.”

Elle’s voice remains warm, trying to offer some comfort. “I know how you feel. It’s exhausting, just one big thing after another, with barely any time to breathe.”

Elle nods sympathetically. “I know how you feel…”

Elijah manages a small smile. “I’m sure Mrs. Martinez is right, though. This place is a maze, but there’s no point rushing anything—”

Just then, Elle gasps, her eyes lighting up with sudden realization of Mrs Martinez’s previous words…

There’s just some things you can’t rush.

“Oh my god! I know what’s wrong with Annie! I’ve got to go—” She hits the lift button with immense speed, rushing out as soon as the doors open.

Elijah stares after her, bewildered. “Who’s Annie?”.

Soon, Elle is back in room 210, chatting with an awake Annie, who looks tired but hopeful. Ethan walks in, halting to lean against the doorframe, his arms crossed. “I’m told you wanted to see me?”

Ethan looks over to Elle, his voice stern but more inquisitive. “I solved the case, Dr. Ramsey.”

Ethan scoffs, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I think I’ll be the judge of that. He pauses for a moment, waiting for Elle to finish her sudden discovery.

“So? I’m waiting to hear whatever brilliant insight you arrived at.”

Elle smiles gently, looking at Annie. “It was never the bacteria that was the issue here, but something happened when she was diving. Annie, you told me you went to get your diving license, but you never said you actually got it.”

Annie nods slowly. “Yeah, I couldn’t do it. I panicked as I got into the water, then I had to get out.”

Elle smiles gently at Annie. “And you resurfaced too quickly.” She hands the chart to Ethan, smiling proudly but doing her best to hide it. “The result? Decompression sickness and labyrinthitis, an inflammation in the ear causing vertigo and nausea.”

Ethan looks at Elle, his blue eyes stern, but there’s something in his gaze that tells her she hasn’t let him down. His brown hair, slightly tousled, frames his face as he listens. “Treatment, Dr. Rose?”

“The symptoms can be eased with antihistamines, but the condition itself will go away with time,” Elle states, her voice confident.

Ethan nods, picking up the chart. With that, the doctors leave Annie. Elle follows Ethan out into the corridor, feeling more confident than she had before. “So, I will fill out the prescription for the—”

Ethan cuts her off, handing her the chart. “Don’t bother. I already have.”

Elle looks at him, confused. “What do you mean you already have?”

She looks over the chart, seeing the medications she was about to order already placed to be delivered to Annie within the next hour. Elle frowns at Ethan. “You knew? When were you going to tell me?”

Ethan checks his watch casually, his eyes squinting before turning back to face Elle. “I was going to give you another forty-five minutes.”

Elle’s frown deepens, her eyes narrowing, her auburn hair cascading around her face like a fiery halo. “You should have treated her right away.”

Ethan’s gaze turns cold, his jaw tightening. “I had given you a chance to redeem yourself, Rookie—”

Elle snaps back, her voice harsh and unwavering. “I don’t want your damn chances. I want my patients to get better, and if that’s not the priority at this hospital, I would rather you fire me now.”

Ethan’s eyes flash with a mix of anger and something else—respect? His eyes bore into hers, unyielding. “You think this is about giving chances? This is about learning. About becoming the kind of doctor who can make the right call under pressure. If you can’t handle that, then maybe you’re right. Maybe you shouldn’t be here.”

Elle stands her ground, her heart pounding in her chest. Her hair, usually neatly tied back, now falls in waves, signaling her fury and determination. “I can handle it. I did handle it. And I will continue to handle it because I care about my patients. More than anything.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Then Ethan nods, a slight, almost imperceptible nod. “Good. Prove it. Don’t disappoint me again.”

[sasuhinasno1fan]

Healing more than just physical wounds - SasuHina Month Day 2

A day late but I went until 3 AM finishing this. I was inspired by @deloscielos here on tumblr. Last year, they came up with this med ninja!Sasuke au and then it started poking at me and then this happened. Time line jumps a little, but for the most part Sasuke's points of veiw are in order, Naruto's is a flashforward and then in time. I'm not happy with how it ended but here we go!

“Knowing me, knowing you” | “Conociéndome,     conociéndote”

“Home is where you are” | “Mi hogar es donde estás     tú”

“When the hell is this so called Hokage’s council actually going to get a new Hokage? It’s bad enough that every doctor in this hospital feels like crap for being unable to save the Third’s life, even if it means he ruined Orochimaru, but this same hospital has an influx of patients from the Chunin Exam finals and everything that happened after. I’ve got you doing intake for a ninja who was supposed to be taking it easy after her heart was damaged during the preliminary round but the injury flared up due to nerves watching one of the matches. Not to mention during everything else, she got kidnapped by Cloud ninja. Honestly, it’d be a miracle at this rate if she passes rehab and get cleared for active duty again. And you should still be recovering.”

Sasuke rolled his eyes, used to the rambling of Mio. She’d just started as a nurse when his clan was killed, been the only one to find him when he’d go missing, talking and rambling the whole time. It used to be she didn’t know what to say to a kid who’s whole life was falling apart and later to a preteen who didn’t like talking to this, a rising nurse practitioner who could order him around during his shifts and yet still had something completely off topic to say. Most of that was currently complaining on how their entire village was at a standstill with the death of the Third and no one taking any interest in keeping their hospital running until a new Hokage was found.

He'd heard at least 3 different versions of this rant, including the part about him recovering from cracked ribs. Mio had been the one to clear him to come back to help at the hospital.

“File?”

“Huh? Oh, here. Dr. Sugo is her doctor, check in with him when you’re done.”

“Wait, Hyuuga Hinata? Her cousin almost killed her. Naruto kicked his ass during the finals.”

“Oh, another thing. he came with her for her check-up.”

“What?”

                                       ___________

Sasuke hated hospitals, more so when it meant his whole family was gone. He’d escape all the time, dragged back by unspeaking ANBU, forced to stay in a room ‘recovering’. Mio had been his jailbreak, even if it was her finding him when he hid in the hospital to avoid being alone in his room. She’d make him watch her do paperwork, do intakes, hell, she even took him to go watch a surgery. In the mess that his life was, the hospital started to become less of a prison and more of a place he didn’t have to think. After training and days at the academy, he’d head to the hospital working as a striper while also learning how to give shots, lift patients into wheelchairs, wrap wounds. He had very basic understanding of med-ninja skills but he was working his way to getting the training, even if most of their med-ninjas came from out of Konoha.

It was an open secret that he worked at the hospital. Mio and the other nurses acted as barriers for the insane fangirls who tried getting an appointment just to see him and he’d try not to lose his temper at idiot patients or their family members. Abuse cases were the worse, when the abuser would bring their victim in, acting like they should sew them up and hand them back over. he didn’t know Hyuuga Neji, but he fell into that category. Naruto explained his actions as family issues. Family issues left his whole clan slain. Family issues didn’t excuse nearly killing a family member and then acting like it was all fine.

“Hyuuga Hinata.”

“Ah, Sasuke-san. I didn’t realise you’d be working.”

“Hospital is a mess, so here we are. So, what brought you in?”

“Check up for my heart to check if I’m on track to go to rehab for field duty.”

“Right. The asshole sitting next to you nearly killed you. how’s your breathing been?”

“Excuse me? What did you just say to me?”

He gave his dullest look to the other Hyuuga. He remembered meeting him on their way to the first part of the chunin exams. Got angry quick when disrespected.

“I didn’t stutter. Now, breathing.”

“You don’t get to talk to me that way. Hinata-sama, you need another -”

“Nii-san, can you wait outside. Please?”

“Hinata-sama.”

“Please.”

He bowed to Hinata, glaring at him before storming out.

“I’m sorry about him.” Hinata said.

“It’s fine. breathing?”

“No difficulty since the exam.” She watched him write her response down and pull over the cart that had everything for intake. He wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her arm, fitting in the ears for the stethoscope and keeping it pressed against her arm, the other holding the pump to inflate. “He’s not bad usually.”

“Yeah, because guy’s nearly responsible for killing you are people to be reasoned with. Naruto told me if it wasn’t for his, mine and your senseis, you’d be dead.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“You can’t justify wanting to kill family for no reason other than a bad day.” He couldn’t think of any justification for what his brother did. He wanted to ‘test his skills’. Nothing would ever make that ok.

“My family treats those in the Branch family like slaves and Neji-niisan was under the impression that’s why his father died. I was kidnapped by Cloud ninja when I was three but my father killed the kidnapper and saved me. They wanted revenge and said they wanted my father in retaliation. My uncle took his place. According to Neji, his father knocked mine to the floor and told him he’d take his place no matter what to keep him safe. They never told Neji and we never spoke about what happened so it led to a lot of anger. I already deal with a lot of anger from my family just for who I am. Niisan doesn’t hate me and he’s working to make it up to me, so I don’t complain about what happened. I’m just exhausted having to act like all the anger and hate doesn’t bother me.”

He couldn’t find much to say. For one, he’d never heard her speak that much in the first place. For another, the idea the famed heiress had people who hated her made no sense. He didn’t know her and he’d actually admit he didn’t hate her. She didn’t fangirl at him, so bonus there, but still.

She didn’t say much for the rest of the intake, only speaking to answer questions.

“Doctor will be in soon.” He said, pushing the cart back.

“I’m glad you do healing.” She said as he got to the door. At his confused look, she got as red as she normally did, focused on her hands. “You’re nicer than Niisan. After what happened to your family, you could be like him but you’re not and I think that makes you stronger. And if you think about it, knowing about the human body means you’ll know just where to hit your brother to bring him down, better than he could.”

He didn’t think of it that way, let alone how the thing he’d been dragged into as a kid would actually help in his mission to take down his brother. He didn’t know if that’s why he said what he said next.

“Well, I guess if being nice makes me stronger, you’re stronger than I am.”

                                                 ________

Everything still felt groggy. Reliving the worst days of his life, over and over again made it impossible to sleep, but he pretended if to only get Sakura out of the room. There was the smallest hint of jealousy that Naruto was fine after an altercation involving the guy who bit him and left the uncontrollable power currently locked in him. It was next to the part that was in awe that the person behind most of the healing programs in the village was the one who woke him up. Mio hadn’t shut up about meeting Lady Tsunade, how she was coming back to the village to be the new Hokage and how the hospital would finally have a chance to run properly, even if they had Tsunade’s assistant in charge of them. Naruto said Shizune was pretty impressive on the battle field. He’d been considering getting proper training to be a med-nin, wondering if it would waste all the time Kakashi-sensei trained him. But once Sakura had pulled herself off of him and let Lady Tsunade check him over, Mio had brought it up.

“Really? How long have you been practising?”

“Since I was 8.”

“He actually works at the hospital, helping with small nursing tasks.”

“With your Sharingan, you’d actually be a lot more advanced than others, if you were interested in it.”

“Wouldn’t that mean he’d have to be village bound?” Naruto asked.

“Not necessarily. I could fit his training in with his normal hours here at the hospital. Let me know if you’re interested though.”

Now he was trying to figure out if he was really interested, if nothing else to keep him distracted. The door to his room slid open and Mio poked her head in.

“Are you up for visitors?” he started to grimace when she continued, the damned annoying ‘I know something you don’t’ on her face. “It’s not Sakura.” She didn’t say anything else, just opened the door more and let Hinata walk in. “I’ll bring lunch soon.”

“Um,” Hinata lifted the thermos in her hand up, “Is it ok if I brought food? I was in a medical coma and I couldn’t handle heavy foods for a while after.”

“Probably be better than what the kitchen cooked. Let me know if you still get hungry.” Mio told him before shutting the door

“Hi.” Hinata said, still standing.

He looked over to the chair Sakura had to of inhabited for the past 2 weeks. “Hi. What kind of soup?” he adjusted the tilt of his own bed, anything to keep him distracted. Out of everyone who was coming to visit, he didn’t expect it to be Hinata. He hadn’t forgotten what she told him when she came in for her check-up, that was only 3 weeks ago. It had been running through his head, half the reason he was really considering taking Lady Tsunade’s offer.

“Veggie. The Clan’s garden did rather well and since I’m not cleared for light training just yet, I need to find things to do with my time. This batch has a lot of tomatoes.” She handed him the thermos. “One of the few things I remember your fangirls gushing about. I always pictured you liking spice though.”

“My mother grew tomatoes in her garden and I used to get into it, sit down and eat as much as I could.”

He couldn’t tell you why he said that, why he admitted something about a time in his life he locked away since it became soaked in blood, but it came right out.

“I did the same with blueberries. My uncle called my blueberry for the rest of the time he was alive. Blueberry-sama. Though, I don’t remember liking them after he passed.”

He watched her pulled the sleeves of her jacket down, covering her hands even more, like she was trying to hide away. He didn’t know why the sight mad him upset.

“Other than not being passed for light training, are you ok?”

Hinata nodded. “I am. it was suggested that the stress of my Clan was causing me to heal slower so I’m actually staying with Kurenai-sensei. I think she’s dating Asuma-sensei, Ino-chan’s sensei.”

“Right, the smoker. He kept trying to light a cigarette when I found out about Kakashi. He looked so surprised when I yanked it from his lips.”

Watching her giggle, covered palm curled up and hiding her mouth, the faintest blush on her cheeks, it suddenly hit him like a lightning bolt.

He had feelings for Hinata. And somehow that didn’t scare him as much as he thought.

                                                   ___________

Naruto stormed away from the Old Hag’s office, still steaming over being put on this mission with Lee’s team. Take care of some family who overtook a village. He did that already with Gato. He had better things to do with his time. If he wanted to get strong enough to drag Orochimaru back or kill him – whichever came first – so all the extra power Sasuke was saddled with thanks to that insane mission could go away, he needed to get stronger. Sasuke was practically barred from missions until he got his Curse Seal under control, not to mention all the hours at the hospital and medical training. He wasn’t complaining once about not getting stronger to defeat his brother, so Naruto had to do it for him.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, I guess. Sorry you’re my first patient.”

Naruto looked over and saw Sasuke out on the stairwell with…Hinata? They were looking at something in Sasuke’s hands and Hinata had a hand on the arm closer to her.

“Hey Sasuke!” he yelled, interrupting them, though they only moved enough to see who it was and Hinata didn’t really move her hand. “What’s going on?”

“Sasuke-kun is going to heal his first patient.”

A blue bird, who was balancing themselves in the bowl of Sasuke’s hands had a bandage wrapped around one of its wings.

“I’m going to try and hopefully not fuck it up for life.” Sasuke grumbled, winding the bandage off. Hinata took her hand off Sasuke’s arm to take the bandage and they watched the bird attempt to flap. Sasuke’s chakra was visible, green in colour, hand over the bird’s wing. when it faded, the wing was obviously stronger and in no time, it flew out of Sasuke’s hand and into the sky.

“You did it!” Hinata cheered and Sasuke smiled. It was less of his normal smirk and an actual smile.

“Training’s obviously going well.” He said, if to distract from the scene in front of him.

“It’s a little hard to tell who’s the hardest teacher, Kakashi or Lady Tsunade.”

“Naruto!” Lee suddenly interrupted, stopping when he saw who he was with. “Oh, Hinata-chan. And Sasuke, my eternal love rival!” Sasuke rolled his eyes. “Normally, I’d focus on telling you all the reason’s I’m better for Sakura-chan, but not right now. Naruto, I must speak with you!”

“Lunch?” Hinata asked, turning to Sasuke and putting her hand back on his arm, her free one this time. They barley disappeared inside before Lee yanked him away past the victim of Tsunade’s chair and to Ichiraku’s.

As Lee explained the Kurosuki family’s connection to Itachi, in hopes of finding him so Sasuke had proper information when he was finally allowed on missions again, Naruto couldn’t get what he saw out of his head.

“Has Hinata-chan always hung out with Sasuke?” he asked as Lee started to drink his broth.

“Hmm? Oh, well I noticed they’d always go for lunch, back when the others were recovering from recovery mission and Sasuke was working on them?”

He remembered that. Sasuke had been impossible then, shouldering everything that happened to the others and nearly working himself to an early death picking up nurse duties. He lightened up after a while but he assumed it was Sasuke accepting he couldn’t change what happened.

“How long have they been hanging out for?”

“Neji mentioned he was the intake nurse for Hinata-chan’s first check up after the Third’s death. I think they just kept bumping into each other after.

                                              ________________

Naruto didn’t know how right Lee was. They did continue to bump into each other, spending time and getting closer. As much as her family thought her weak because of her kindness, they didn’t know – no one knew actually – just how instrumental she was in keeping Sasuke in the village.

“Your first mission without your sensei. I guess we’ll be doing more of those types of missions now.”

Hinata was in his apartment, watching him pack for the Land of Tea.

“it means I have more time to think. Can’t exactly start training to be a med-nin if the village is stretched thin as it is.” He still hadn’t given Tsunade an answer and he felt like he had to soon. “What about you? you got cleared for training finally. You’ve got a few more sessions before you get cleared for missions again, right?”

Nodding and tucking her legs under her, she leaned forward slightly, looking excited. “Niisan has been trying to teach me how to do Gentle Fist techniques. I’m not nearly as good at them but I got the idea from the Rotation technique about creating a short of shield with chakra, but in a different way. It’d be less releasing chakra from my points and more of moving to catch each attack from around me.”

Sasuke watched her gushing about her new technique, his knowledge over how he felt still hanging in the back of his head.

“What?” she asked, noticing him staring.

“Nothing. You just seemed really excited. Usually, any mention of training has you mentioning how your dad won’t stop asking when you can start again and how Neji has been going a little overboard in trying to right his wrongs.”

Hinata shrugged. “I don’t know if this will change how my thinks of me, but they won’t be able to deny I’m incapable of giving up.”

“I look forward to seeing you prove them all wrong.”

He’d forgotten about what Hinata told him with everything that happened on the mission. As the only person with injuries that landed him in the hospital, all the jealousy he’d been pushing down, watching Naruto get better and stronger while he was usually left with the injuries, built up. Mio kept them from his room, noticing how easily he’d been getting annoyed, only letting Hinata in. he felt bad that he made her sit with his stony silence, probably so reminiscent of her own father. She didn’t say much, only asking once if he was ok and if he wanted anything. Before she left, she put a hand on his arm and told him she was glad he was ok. The apology was right on the tip of his tongue when she left as Sakura tried coming in. it went down hill after that. He snapped at Sakura, fought Naruto and got to see just how powerful he was and was given a lecture by Kakashi-sensei. At the end of it all, the Sound Four made a pretty compelling case.

It would have been so easy to just go. No one had any right to stop him from getting stronger. But Mio, in her fashion of never leaving him alone, stopped by as he was escaping the hospital.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but here. Hinata left this for you. says she hopes you feel better.” It was a thermos of tomato veggie soup, as they started calling the it after she brought it whenever she visited him in the hospital.

Instead of going home and packing, he went to Lady Tsunade and told her everything. After it was pointed out that the Sound Four had to of been with Orochimaru during the Chunin Exam finals, the most insane plan was made. Sasuke would go, do what they wanted and allow them to take him to the Sound Village. While a better equipped team was being assembled, a smaller one, first of chunin to weaken and then of genin and one chunin would follow after them, playing trying to get him back. He’d taken the pill, fell into a dead like sleep, the only instruction given to keep going past the Valley of the End if he has to go by himself. He got to the Valley, feeling his body ready to burst with use of the Level 2 Curse Mark when Naruto found him, without a mark as usual. Sasuke couldn’t remember what started the fight, verbal this time, but he and Naruto screamed at each other, venting their jealousies and anger.

He remembered what his brother told him about Mangeko Sharingan and as much as he hated Naruto, he didn’t hate him. Not enough to kill him. Not enough to forget he’d been risking his life to get him back.

It took a while for his body to process the new power he had but the moment he was said to be in the clear, he did what he usually did and escaped his hospital room, instead working on the retrieval team, specifically the one of his classmates. Shikamaru and Kiba were mostly fine, Kiba scoffing at his apology.

“For some reason, Hinata likes hanging out with you. honestly, that’s the only reason I gave a crap about getting you back. I would have said good riddance.”

The petty part of him was tempted to remind him Naruto would have kicked his ass if he tried that, if the semi-finals were anything to go by. But the part that made him return and a good amount of guilt just had him bow his head and send in Kiba’s sister for Akamaru.

Choji had been the first to wake from his surgery, waving off his apology with his normal laid-back attitude.

“Shouldn’t you be resting though? I don’t really know why they had you in that gourd, but it couldn’t have been good.”

“I’m fine.”

“You look kind pale to me.”

“You nearly died from a mix of chakra overuse and lack of nutrients in your body. Trust me, I’m fine.”

He was lucky Choji stopped asking questions. He seemed the least likely to judge but Sasuke didn’t want to break down in front of him.

Neji took the longest to wake up, still in the ICU. Sasuke had been putting on protective gear over his clothes, tucking his hair away when he noticed Neji had a visitor. Unsure Hinata would want to see him, he added a face mask, focused on checking vitals and getting out. But much like her family, he underestimated her. He’d barely reached the bed when she stopped him, pulling his mask down, looking releveled at the sight of him.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“You’re ok.”

“I’m fine. other than my neck killing me and my skin itching, I’m fine.”

They constantly did this, just open up to each other without thinking. It’s probably why when she pulled him into a hug, it didn’t feel weird or sudden.

“I know you were supposed to come back anyway, but I’m really glad you did.”

“Your cousin hates me already. I think he’d hate me more if I made him go through all this for nothing.”

Hinata’s laugh was watery, but it was a laugh none the less. She pulled away, wiping away stray tears, taking him in. “Have you gotten any rest? Mio-san was only able to tell me so much.”

“I’ve been cleared so thought I’d do something useful.”

“Come get something to eat with me.”

Sasuke blinked down at her, confused. Her cousin was in the ICU and she wanted to eat?

“I’ve been here as long as possible and we’re only allowed one visitor at a time. My father has come by a few times and I’m sure he’d like a chance to visit. So, take me somewhere to eat.”

He couldn’t find a reason to say no, so he nodded. He didn’t realise it would be Hinata’s way of checking up on him while he was bared from leaving the village after Naruto and Sakura’s hairbrained idea of going to find Orochimaru themselves set off an unwanted Level 2 transformation. He didn’t regret getting his med-nin training but having Hinata around made him feel less like clawing at the walls.

“Lunch?” it started to become his favourite question.

                                          _____________

Naruto followed Sakura to the hospital. Back after 2 years of training and hearing that Sasuke was a full med-nin made him feel just as proud. He didn’t forget what he and Sasuke said to each other and he wasn’t blind to Sasuke upset about being bared from leaving the village.

“How has Sasuke been? Were any restrictions lifted?”

“Not really. Anko and Kakashi helped him train his Level 2 Curse Seal but only under supervision. But…” Sakura stopped turning to Naruto. “He…he’s been different.”

“Bad different?”

“No, just…he’s been hanging out with Hinata a lot.”

“Yeah?” this wasn’t news. Before he left, he almost always found them together. He was usually waiting for her when she came back from missions, had been a worried mess when she came back with a sprained ankle during the buried treasure test mission and had been with him the day, he went to say goodbye.

“I think he’s dating her.”

That…that would make a lot of sense. He could tell the idea upset Sakura, no doubt still holding on to feelings for him but he’d never seen Sasuke actually hang out with people that wasn’t the rest of his team or Mio and the hospital staff and that was if he had no choice.

Hinata was a choice.

“Ok.”

“Ok? That’s all you have to say?” Sakura asked, angry.

“Well, they were always together and she was with him the day the Sound Four came by. If he is, you can’t stop him.”

It was made even more apparent when Mio – who loudly welcomed him back, not changing a bit other than shorter hair and a tattoo – told them Sasuke went for dinner with Hinata since his shift was over. he let Sakura drag him all over the village, waving and talking to villagers, including Iruka-sensei. While distracted by the adult he trusted the most telling him about training Sakura in fuinjutsu when she let out a scream. He found her at the entrance of a restaurant, just getting there as Sasuke pulled away from kissing Hinata.

While that long awaited conversation happened, he leaned against the wall of the entrance with Hinata.

“It’s really good to see you again. Your hair has gotten longer.” Hinata started when the silence was starting to get awkward as Sakura’s voice rose.

“You too. It’s kinda weird to see you in long hair. But you look good. Any more amazing jutsus you’ve been working on?”

“A few.” She replied a mischievous smile on her face.

“You know,” he pointed out, “you’re different from before. it’s not a bad thing but you’re more out there and open. Sasuke to thank for that?”

“More like, I let something go and decided to go for something different. I had feelings for someone and while it helped give me confidence, it sort of had a limit on myself. If I got that person to notice me, I’d be ok. With Sasuke, it felt like I didn’t have to try as hard. Pushing myself felt less like a demand and more of a want. I wanted be this new person, Sasuke to always think I could to it. with each interaction, we got to know each other better and I think it helped us become who we are today.”

He nodded to himself. Hinata seemed way more confident than before and he’d guess Sasuke was probably way less sullen. He’d been worried that anything would send Sasuke leaving straight to Orochimaru but clearly, Sasuke had more important things to worry about. Honestly, the snake and Sasuke’s brother wouldn’t know what hit them once they saw this Sasuke, he was sure of it.

[finalgirlkateausten]

“ can you stop?! i’m pregnant, for crying out loud, it’s not like i’m made of glass! “ for the fix-it verse if it works, and if not just something with rhekker please? 💗

This absolutely works in the fix-it verse and I am going to make it angsty :) Also, a drabble with scene breaks?? Who am I????

CW for pregnancy, hospitals, and discussion of childbirth/premature labor/etc

Ava would laugh at Connor actually bothering to move her breakfast closer to her on the table, except that he's legitimately taking himself seriously, and fussing with the tilt of the bed, too. Sure, bed rest means she's not supposed to move too much, but this is a little extreme.

"Can you stop?" she sighs, moving his hand away from the buttons on the side of the hospital bed. "I'm pregnant, but for crying out loud, that doesn't mean I'm made of glass!"

"Avey, that may have been true a week ago," her fiance says, "but now you're literally in labor. And it's more than ten weeks early."

"I'm not in labor, that's the problem," she grumbles. "God, I know it's good for these babies to stay put for as long as they can, but now I just have to wait, knowing anything could go wrong... do you know how high the risk of infection is with a prematurely ruptured amniotic sac? And if any of them ends up with a respiratory infection, that utterly defeats the purpose of waiting at all."

"I know, I know, there's a lot to worry about," Connor agrees, fidgeting in the armchair next to her. "But that's what the steroids are for, remember? The longer you wait, the stronger these three get... and I'm right here with you, Avey, whatever you need."

She takes his hand with her left and uses her right to pick up the slightly burnt toast, which Connor has already smeared with strawberry jelly at her request. "I just feel like I'm bad at this part."

Connor's face is the picture of confusion. "Honey, no, you're doing amazing. You're working so hard."

"Then why do I feel so fucking terrible?" Ava squeezes his hand, searching his concerned expression for any reassurance. "I thought I was handling everything so well, but now-- god, it's not even physically, I just feel like everything is constantly moving too fast, and my anxiety is through the goddamn roof..." she trails off, letting go of him and abandoning her untouched toast in favor of burying her face in her hands.

Almost immediately, she feels him rubbing her back. "Did you ever talk to your doc about going back up a little after he cut your meds?"

"I didn't think it was going to get bad enough," she mutters.

"We can get someone in here," he offers.

She groans at the thought of suffering through a hospital psych eval. "I don't know..."

"Just think about it, baby," he encourages. "If it'll make you feel better..."

Ava humphs in protest, shifting back upright and rubbing her cumbersome baby bump. She can hardly breathe bent over with three tiny bodies taking up all the space in there.

A moment later, her nurse comes in for the routine checks. "Your heart rate is still consistently a little higher than we want," she hums, "and I'm not a big fan of your blood pressure, either. We may have to start you on some meds for that."

"It's not cardiovascular," she groans. "It's just my anxiety. I'm not on my full-strength medication, and now I'm stuck in the hospital for who knows how long..."

Her nurse frowns at that. "Well, alright. We might have someone come talk to you later, then."

Ava smiles wryly. "Just what I wanted."

She manages to finish her breakfast after the nurse leaves, and then with Connor rubbing her back, she closes her eyes in the hopes of dozing. "Get some rest, babe," he encourages, and she mumbles incoherently in response.

Sleep is a blessing at this point.

----

Connor is loathe to leave Ava for even a minute at this point, but while she's sleeping she won't miss him, and besides, he's on a mission. He has to poke around the psych floor for a little bit before he finds who he's looking for, and since he's in street clothes, he even gets redirected a few times before he manages to sneak on through.

"Sarah!"

She yelps and startles in surprise, turning in her office chair with a hand over her heart. "Jesus, Connor, you scared me! Why aren't you up on the maternity floor?"

"'Cause I need a psych consult," he explains. "Ava's in rough shape, and I think someone needs to look at her meds again, but that's a low priority up in obstetrics."

"Okay," Sarah says slowly, "so what you do, is you find the doctor, and you ask if there's any way they can make a psych eval happen, and then the doctor calls us--"

"C'mon, Sarah," he groans, "do me a solid? Besides, Ava will feel better if it's you..."

She purses her lips, turns to scowl at her computer, and then checks her watch. "Alright. You're lucky you got me between patients."

"Thanks so much," he says, sighing in relief as he claps her on the shoulder. "We really appreciate it, Sarah."

"Let's walk and talk," she says, grabbing the tablet off her desk. "What are her current medications, just so I know what I'm working with?"

Connor explains as best he can as they return to the maternity floor, and he'd been right in thinking Ava would be more relaxed with a friendly face, because she answers questions and explains her symptoms with a remarkable lack of resistance, compared to the other doctors they've been talking to over the past few days. And then Sarah leaves to converse with Ava's actual doctors, and it turns out the initial plan is to try a light sedative that's approved for pregnancy in the hopes of a more immediate effect on Ava's emotional state.

He anxiously watches his fiancee's face for any indication that she's upset with the idea, but she nods and lets them administer it, holding his hand with her right as they run the meds into her IV. Sure, Connor's not thrilled about her being more out of it and sleepy and less able to answer his frequent and slightly pointless questions about her wellbeing, but that's a selfish reason to protest. So he keeps his mouth shut and holds onto Ava as they wait for the meds to kick in.

"Connor," she mumbles, already having been dozing before he'd brought Sarah in, "will you come hold me?"

"Yeah, of course," he says, carefully climbing onto the bed with her. Seven months in, they've both become experts at cuddling in spite of her baby bump, so he spoons her along her back and massages her shoulders, one hand drifting to rest on her belly. "How are you feeling?"

"Cold," she mumbles. "Tired."

"I'll keep you warm," he says, making a mental note to ask a nurse for a blanket the next time one comes in. "You can go back to sleep."

"Am I just gonna be in a fog for the rest of this?"

"I don't know," he answers truthfully. "You can talk to the doctors in a little while if it ends up being too much."

"I'll accept being in a fog if it means I can stop being scared every single second," she sighs, her voice getting quieter and quieter.

Connor kisses her hair. "I don't want you to be scared."

She leans back into him, her eyes closed now. "I'm... tired."

"Good," he murmurs, still rubbing her shoulders. "Get some rest."

"You'll stay?"

"Of course. I'm right here."

Ava hums slowly, and her breathing begins to slow. Connor peppers kisses over her hair and the back of her neck, rubbing her back as she drifts off. "I love you," he whispers.

She doesn't answer, and he just hopes she's finally able to get restful sleep.

[our-time-is-now]

September 25, 2019: They’re really happy with the scars

(previous play)

You can find more information about the authors, translators, content warning and additional information about the plays in the pinned post on our blog.  

Attention! This play includes transgender topics. For more details see our interjection.

Wednesday, 11:25 am:

WhatsApp, David/Matteo:

David (11:25 am, voice message): Hey… I just left the hospital… everything’s good. They’re really happy with the scars and during the examination they couldn’t feel anything that’s wrong, either. Apparently it’s still a little swollen. But apparently that’s normal… Well, I don’t really think that it still looks swollen, but okay, I’m no expert… Anyways: The gynecologist was also satisfied. I had an ultrasound and… well the usual examination. I’ll spare you the details… over the next few days the stitches are supposed to dissolve, well at the… with the… on the nipples and just inside me. I’m supposed to come back in two weeks for a check up for the hysterectomy - but I can choose if I want to go to the hospital or my usual gynecologist… As for the mastec, I’m supposed to come back if there are any problems or if I have any questions, and apart from that I can start with the ointment next week. Oh and I’m supposed to slowly wean myself off the pain meds… but I was already considering that, anyways. Hmm… apart from that there wasn’t anything else… well, as I said, everything’s good! What about you? How was school? Anyways… I’m looking forward to later! And I miss you…

Matteo (12:43 pm, voice message): Hey, but that all sounds great… I’m really relieved that everything looks so good. Are you back at the flatshare now or still with Alex? Earlier today I had the thought that maybe we should buy Alex a gift? As a thank you for always driving you around? Well, I do know that he doesn’t want anything… but maybe something small… what do you think? Do you have an idea? By the way, I’m also outside right now… I somehow had to get outside and I didn’t feel like having lunch break at the cafeteria, so I’m walking around a little… But apart from that, everything’s good, school was good… but Sannik seemed a little off, no idea why… I’ll have a café shift again soon, until 4 o’clock and then I’ll finally get off work… I’m also looking forward to later… do you want anything in particular for dinner? Text me what you’d like… then I’ll quickly go shopping after work if we need anything… see you later… and take care of yourself…

David (12:49 pm): I’m at the flatshare with Alex. We’re having hot chocolate. I definitely think it’s a good idea to buy him a gift! Maybe a food voucher? And marzipan! He really loves marzipan!

David (12:50 pm): Maybe Sannik has stress in his private life and that’s why he’s so off… Was he only off or was he stupid? Was he mean to you? Do I have to scold him!? ;-)

David (12:51 pm): I feel like eating something with spinach again… do you have an idea? I can also go shopping later - if the shopping doesn’t weigh more than 10 kilograms ;-)

David (12:52): I hope you have a quiet shift at the café. You take care of yourself as well! I still need you for a little longer, after all… a little much longer… like a couple of years… or decades… ;-)

Matteo (2:07 pm): I think marzipan and a food voucher is a good idea, then he can choose if we want to go out or if I should cook something. And yes, I think Sannik has some stress in his private life. And maybe we could simply have pasta with spinach? Or potatoes? We still have pasta, I don’t know about the potatoes right now. We’d have to get spinach. That should be less than 10 kilograms :) And I will take care, you ol’ romantic :-* See you later…

(next play)

[lab-trash]

Villain Arcane

Hopefully you’re just as impatient as I am and want this next chapter.

Chapter List 

When they got home, Oliver stayed silent. He didn’t know why, but he was afraid to speak.

No. That was a lie. He didn’t want to speak of it. It made him seem weak. 

That still wasn’t why…

Kaz was antsy for the first hour or so, waiting for Chase to return. But after that hour passed, he started feeling worse, anxious, utterly terrified.

After an hour and a half, he started calling frantically— both on the radio and on his phone.

Nothing. 

At one point he left the living room and went down to Mission Command. He wasn’t supposed to go to Mission Command without supervision, but no one stopped him. 

Only moments later, he returned frantically. 

“Chase is missing,” He said. He immediately started pacing. Oliver repositioned in his seat of guilt. 

“What do you mean he’s missing?” Bree asked. She was slightly annoyed, having to deal with Kaz’s presumably irrational anguish for the past hour or so. 

“I just checked his GPS signal,” Kaz said, his body tense with familiar anger. It was just like their first day as a team. “Guess where it was!” The rest of the team exchanged looks but all shrugged. “Nowhere! It’s completely offline!” He sat down on the couch, his anger and frustration dissolved into fear and sadness. “I-I can’t lose anyone else, I-I can’t lose him.”

“You won’t,” Skylar said. “First things first, turn on your radios. Keep them on you and on at all times,” She said. “Second, I’ll speed around the city and look for him.” She looked firmly at Kaz. “We won’t lose him.”

“I’ll come with you,” Bree said. “We can cover more ground.” They exchanged a nod before simultaneously speeding out. 

Oliver moved closer to his friend.

“I’m sure he’s not hurt.”

Oliver didn’t know why, but he trusted Marcus. He didn’t understand it. But he also couldn’t help it. He was sure that Marcus wouldn’t hurt Chase. Wouldn’t hurt family. 

“How… How can you be sure, Oliver?” Kaz asked, his voice on the line between anger and devastation. 

“I… I just am,” Oliver said. 

It was like there was a force keeping him from talking about it. He knew that was ridiculous, but he just couldn’t do it. 

“I know we’re best friends,” Kaz said, “But Chase is… I don’t even know, but I care about him so much. More than anything. More than I cared about Mighty Med, about my action figures, my comics. I care about him so much. I can’t lose him too, i-it’ll kill me.”

“You’re not going to lose him, you’re his best friend,” Oliver said. 

Skylar and Bree entered the room again. 

“Nowhere,” Bree said. 

“Yeah, me neither,” Skylar said. “You know what though, something I noticed?” Kaz stared intently. “The warehouse was still intact.” She shifted her stance to stand in front of Oliver. “What are you not telling us?” 

Oliver swallowed. 

“Uh,” He hesitated. “I… wasn’t the one on the radio earlier,” He admitted. “And neither was Chase.”

Kaz looked at Bree.

“Was it you?” He asked, a bit fearfully.

“What? No! I mean, I know vocal manipulation is… oh no…” She let out a shaky, nervous breath. “Oliver, who was it?”

“I don’t—”

“Who was there, Oliver,” Bree urged. “If you don’t know his name, explain him! Now!”

“Marcus.”

The entire room seemed to snap, breaking into silence. 

“Marcus,”  Kaz repeated. “You didn’t think that was important to mention earlier?”

“I can’t believe this…” Bree muttered, pulling her fingers through the roots of her hair. 

“Oliver, why would you keep this from us?” Skylar asked. “You must know how terrible he is.”

“What?” Oliver asked.

The only knowledge Oliver had about Marcus was what he was told. How was it that these three knew about him? Well, Bree made sense, but Skylar and Kaz.

“You guys never told him?” Skylar asked Bree. 

“I-I thought Chase did! I mean, I never told Kaz, Chase did!” 

“Marcus tried to kill them, Oliver,” Kaz said. “You… tell me you didn’t leave Chase with him.”

“He said he’d never hurt family,” Oliver said. Bree rolled her eyes. “A-And he threatened to kill me if I didn’t leave— I didn’t have a choice!” 

Kaz stood up, facing the wall, yanking his hands into his hair like Bree had only seconds earlier.

“I-I can’t believe this. I-I’m going to lose him!” He turned back around. “It’s over.”

“It might not be over,” Skylar said, holding onto hope. “I’ll search the warehouse, now that I know I can,” She said. “See what I can find.”

As she said, she sped off. The rest of them just stood in silence, waiting for her return— which of course came quickly. 

“He wasn’t there,” She said. She held out a piece of paper, “But this was.” 

Bree took the paper immediately. 

“How long did it take for Oliver to crack? I’m betting an hour,” She read. “Don’t worry, Chase is fine. For now. I don’t see myself hurting him any time soon, but who’s to say. I just needed to do some more research.

“- Marcus. PS, Oli, I’ll be waiting for you.”

“So he’s okay!” Oliver said, more defensively than he’d like to admit. 

“Yeah, for now,” Bree spat.

“We could’ve stopped this. If you’d told us sooner, we could’ve gotten there before Marcus fled!” Skylar argued. 

“No,” Bree interrupted. “He probably left only seconds after we did. He’s an android, which means he can use more than one bionic at once as long as he’s smart about it. He probably used his strength and speed and left.” 

“There has to be some way to find him,” Kaz pleaded, his voice shaking. 

“I’m sure that there is,” Bree said, “But it’s going to take some time. I need to get Mr Davenport and Douglas here, a-and probably AJ. With them working together, we can tap into Marcus’s GPS, and find him that way,” She said. “I’ll go call them,” She began to walk away, but stopped. She put her hand on Kaz’s shoulder. “We’ll find him,” She pressed before dashing to her room. 

Kaz sighed and sat back down, followed by Skylar. 

“What if we don’t,” Kaz muttered. Skylar put her arm around Kaz’s shoulders and pulled him closer. 

“We have to,” She said, “He’s too important.”

[never-not-ever]

Work Memories

I lean against the ledge of my bathroom sink, cross my ankles and close my eyes and I'm transported back to my job. It's 10:30pm and we're all near the end of our shift. Most of the kids are in their rooms. Maybe one or two are in the hall, coming up to get a phone to call home or to just say goodnight to us. I close my eyes and lean against my bathroom sink and it's like I'm leaning against the back counter at the nurses station. I can easily see down both halls, eyes on the unit.

One of my coworkers is printing the new checks sheet for the overnight shift. Another counselor at a computer doing the last of their notes. There's a couple of my coworkers at the desk so I go in the back and chat with the nurses.

10:50pm and some of the night crew start to trickle in. "You're still here?" was something I heard often because when I came in at 7am they were leaving their shift going home for the day. My shift often didn't end til 11:30pm so I'd see them again later that night. There was this one night counselor who'd always give me a hug, I loved her. We never worked together but we always chatted at the end of her shift or mine.

I close my eyes and think of a different part of the day. I'm starting the beginning of my shift and I tap my badge at the door to the unit. I pass by the med window and round the corner to the nurses station. It's either 7am and everyone's still asleep and I'm greeted by the night crew or it's 3pm and the day shift are behind the desk eagerly awaiting our arrival so they can go home. Counselors and patients say my name glad to see me or glad I'm working that night.

I can hear one of the charge nurses say "Oh good, I'm so glad you're here tonight! Can you fill out the counselor schedule for me?". I go around to my coworkers asking who wants what block. Oftentimes I'd text the people on doubles giving them first choice.

I loved my job. I loved being at work. It was like my second home. I hated seeing my kids in pain, tormented by their illnesses. I'd skip my breaks to make sure other counselors took theirs or to help out in the dining room, wherever I was needed. I'd clock out and come back onto the unit to go check in with one of my patients before I left if my schedule didn't give me any free time during my shift.

I started my job on my 30th birthday, May 9th.

May 31st

One of my patients yesterday told me I was doing a great job and I know she actually meant it. She’s a nursing student and so sweet. She was one of the first patients whose name I remembered just because she was so nice to me. Her compliment really meant a lot to me and I feel like I’m going to remember her for the rest of my career and I truly mean that.

I still remember her name.

June 2nd

There was a patient earlier who saw I was doing snack and was like “you’re with with us, yay” and that was the best feeling.

Last night some MHC who was from a different floor said "I wouldn’t have thought you were new”.

June 30th

"___ I missed you!!” From a patient the second I walked into work even though I was here last night.

Then all the “___ you’re doing group/meals, yay, we love ___”. My heart...

July 7th

In other news my supervisor pulled me aside the other day and I was like “uh oh” and he laughed and said “don’t uh oh me”. Typically they wait a little longer before they have new hires train newer hires but I guess I’m doing so well they’re going to have me help train some of the new co-op kids coming in.

I'm going to stop now. I don't want to look too cocky or conceited.

I was held up so high, I used to be great They used to cheer when they saw my face Now, I fear I have fallen from grace

Lyrics from Taylor's song Castles Crumbling hit too close to home. I was great. I was amazing.

Power went to my head, and I couldn't stop Ones I loved tried to help, so I ran them off And here I sit alone, behind walls of regret Falling down like promises that I never kept

All that power did go to my head. I worked too much. I started to get burnt out. But I didn't stop.

I don't know how it could've ended this way People look at me like I'm a monster Now they're screaming at the palace front gates, used to chant my name Now they're screaming that they hate me

Except I do know how it ended that way. It was all my fault and I didn't know how to keep boundaries. I can only imagine what my coworkers said about me. The charge nurse who was always so happy to work with me "I can't believe that...". My overnight friend who used to always give hugs, I can just see her open mouthed when she learned what happened. My supervisor training the new hires and when he gets to the boundaries powerpoint using me as an example, "I just lost one of my best lead counselors, amazing at her job, but crossed boundaries with a patient".

I'm not looking for pity and please, please no hate. I just needed to get this out there. I was amazing until I wasn't. All those good memories from my old job haunt me more than the bad ones.

A year later and this loss (albeit my fault) still destroys me and fills me with so much self hatred that I never knew was possible to have. I know it's in the past and I should just move on. Believe me if it was that easy I would. But I can't. Each day that goes by gets closer and closer to the anniversary of my last day at work. Then to relive the horrible week that followed. I really do need to stop.