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kk095 · 5 months ago

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Alexa’s Arrhythmia

*hello everyone! I know it's been awhile since my last story, so I apologize about the delay. I hope you all enjoy this one!*

Alexa was a 22 year old girl of Asian descent, standing at a compact 5 foot 1, having a more petite build. She had wavy, medium length hair with a middle part that was dyed platinum blonde. The young lady was heavily tattooed, with bright, colorful sleeves on both arms, tattoos up and down both legs, a few small pieces on the tops of her hands and fingers, along with a handful of other tattoos scattered elsewhere around her body. There were piercings in both her nipples, as well as a nose ring. Alexa’s style was always more revealing, showing off her tattoos and her cute, dainty figure. She took care of her appearance, always making sure her hair, nails, and makeup were on point.

Looks weren’t the only thing going for Alexa. She was very bubbly, outgoing, and a ton of fun to be around. However, that fun regularly crossed the line. Alexa was the life of the party and a total wild child. It seemed like her and her friends were always up to some sort of shenanigans. But last night, Alexa’s reckless, carefree partying had major consequences for the first time, resulting in her night ending in our emergency department.

It was discovered Alexa had used a large dose of an unknown, synthetic party drug that just hit the streets. The substance was in the form of a black, octagon shaped pill that was half the size of a dime with no markings, stamps, or engravings whatsoever. Alexa wrongly assumed the pills she acquired were molly (MDMA), a substance she had used casually. This misjudgment would prove to be a dire mistake for the tatted up party girl.

When Alexa arrived at our emergency department, she was completely inconsolable, crying hysterically. She was thrashing and flailing around quite dramatically on the trauma room table. Her heart was absolutely racing at 185bpm, on the verge of ventricular tachycardia. She felt a pinching sensation inside her chest, combined with severe heart palpitations.

She was sitting on the trauma room table in the upright position, stripped down to just her black bra and matching underwear. There were EKG electrodes stuck onto her chest, IVs set up in each arm, and a nasal cannula in her nostrils. Due to her dangerously high heart rate and unstable vital signs, the monitors beeped and chirped loudly, creating a tense and ominous tone in the room.

Alexa was absolutely terrified. This wasn’t her first rodeo with party drugs, but she knew something was seriously wrong this time. “HELP ME! PLEASE…” She sobbed, flailing around on the table. “we’re here to help you. I just need you to stay still so the nurses can take a look.” Lindsay calmly reassured. “HELP ME! PLEASE!!!” Repeated Alexa. “and we will sweetie! Just stay still for us, ok?” Nurse Nancy chimed in, trying to console the visibly upset young lady. “MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!” Alexa sobbed, squirming around feverishly. “Nancy, let’s try to calm her down. I wanna run some labs and get a stat tox screen on her. We need to know what she took.” Lindsay explained. Nurse Nancy nodded in acknowledgement to the doctor, and went to draw the blood samples required. “NO! NO NEEDLES! NO NEEDLES!!!” Alexa screamed since she always had a phobia of needles. “it’s just gonna be a quick stick hunny. It’ll be fast, I promise.” Reassured Nancy. “NO! THEY ALREADY GAVE ME ONE IN THE AMBULANCE!” Protested Alexa, referring to the IVs that the medics had set up. “I know you already got a needle in the ambulance, but we have to do this so you can feel better. Understand?” Nancy reasoned. “NO MORE NEEDLES! JUST MAKE IT STOP!” Alexa continued to resist, leaning back, shaking her back and forth dramatically indicating ‘no’. “well, if you don’t want us to draw the blood we need, then you have to tell us what you took.” Nancy’s tone getting more firm that time. “I don’t know…. It was just a couple of pills!” Alexa replied, her voice wobbly, tears streaming down her face. “a couple pills? Have you taken these before? What did it look like?” probed Nancy, hoping to get any bit of information she could work with. “I DON’T KNOW! I thought it was just molly or something…” the girl sobbed in response. “Well, was it molly? We’re not here to judge you hun. We just need to know what you took so we can help you.” Explained Nancy. “I DON’T KNOW! JUST MAKE IT STOP!” yelled Alexa, in hysterics.

Nancy sighed, starting to feel frustrated. It seemed like Alexa was just being uncooperative and unwilling to tell the team what she took. Since Alexa was also a fast, erratically moving target, nobody wanted to risk a needle stick injury while trying to draw labs. As far as chemical restraints went, nobody felt comfortable giving her any sedatives or benzos, fearing an adverse reaction with whatever was already in her system. The team was at a standstill to some extent, contemplating their next steps. Alexa’s heart rate was also through the roof, and her EKG was abnormal, so the team had to get her calm enough to run labs and start chemical cardioversion to try and stabilize her.

Before the team could decide what exactly their next move would be, Alexa’s symptoms worsened. She let out a loud, high pitched yelp, clenching her chest in pain with one hand, her eyes slamming shut for a few seconds. “Alexa? What’s the matter sweetie?” Nurse Nancy asked, concerned about the sudden change. “My heart! My heart’s getting pinched!” Answered Alexa. “I’m scared… I’m so scared…” She went on, crying her eyes out. “I know it’s scary, but we’re gonna take great care of you.” Soothed Nancy. “now, can you tell us what you took? We aren’t gonna get you in trouble. We aren’t gonna judge you. We just want to help.” Continued Nancy, feeling it was a good opportunity to pry for information again. “I DON’T KNOW! I TOLD YOU I DON’T KNOW! IT WAS JUST A COUPLE PILLS, I SWEAR!” Alexa bawled.

Dr Lindsay was looking at the monitors the whole time Nancy and Alexa were talking, and didn’t like what she was seeing. The doctor saw a narrow QRS complex and a short RP interval. Given these findings, combined with the 185bpm heart rate, Lindsay determined Alexa was experiencing something known as junctional ectopic tachycardia- a form of v-tach that needs to be electrically cardioverted in order to restore normal cardiac activity. Lindsay got Nancy’s attention. “hey Nance. We’re gonna have to cardiovert her. Let’s get the pads on her.” Lindsay commanded. Nancy then started to get the defib pads set up. While that was going on, Lindsay tried to explain what was going on. “Alexa? Your heart is beating in a very dangerous rhythm right now. In order to fix it, we have to give you a quick shock from the defibrillator pads. It’ll feel a little uncomfortable, but it’ll be over with before you know it.” Lindsay explained. “WHAT? NO. NO WAY. NO SHOCK.” Resisted Alexa. “I’m sorry. If there was a more comfortable way, believe me, we’d do that. But unfortunately this is the only way to go here.” Doctor Lindsay reasoned. Alexa didn’t respond to Lindsay. All she did was cry for a moment. “I’m so scared… what’s happening to me?...” She finally asked. “We’re trying to get to the bottom of that. I just need you to stay still and stay calm for me.” Lindsay calmly answered.

Nurse Nancy stuck the defib pads onto Alexa’s chest. “Ok Nancy, let’s charge to 100.” Lindsay ordered. The electric whirring of the defibs charging could be heard. “No… no…no…” the patient uttered under her breath, knowing the shock was about to come. Finally the defibs were ready. “Alexa? We’re gonna shock you now, ok?” Lindsay told the patient. “no! Don’t shock me… nonono!” She begged, her eyes wide with fear. But Lindsay, Nancy, and the rest of the team had a job to do. The shock button was hit, and the shock was delivered. “AHHH!” Alexa screamed, one hand clenching her chest. The team paused for a moment, studying the monitors, hoping the desired change had taken place. Even after a good 30 seconds, the arrhythmia failed to dissipate, so Alexa had to be shocked again. “Alexa? We’re gonna have to shock you again.” The doctor informed Alexa, which was responded to with the same crying and protests as before. The defibs were recharged to 100j, and shock #2 was delivered. “ohhh….” Alexa moaned. Again, the team waited post-shock, and again, there was no change. Because of that, Lindsay decided to shock Alexa at a slightly stronger intensity to hopefully achieve better results. The defib pads were readied, and a 150j shock was delivered. Alexa’s body tensed up in response. She winced in pain, continuing to cry. The third shock didn’t do the trick, but perhaps the fourth time’s the charm? Alexa could hear the pads charging up again, and it freaked her out. “No more! No more!” she begged, wanting the nightmare to end. “AHHH!” she let out a loud, blood curdling scream in response to the fourth shock.

Even after the fourth shock, the arrhythmia was the clear winner of the battle up to that point. Lindsay stepped up her game, administering a 200j shock. “OWW!” Alexa yelled, tears streaming down her face. “NO MORE! NO MORE SHOCKS!” Alexa begged, hearing the defibs recharging. Another 200j shock followed. Alexa’s torso shot forward, and her arms tensed up for a moment, her hands moving towards the middle of her body. With no change whatsoever, the process was repeated, except the ensuing shock was 250j. Alexa moaned and cried in response, but the arrhythmia was stubborn, appearing to be there for the long haul. The defib pads were readied another go of it, but that time at 300j- triple the strength of the very first shock Alexa received. “AHHH!” Screamed the cute, tatted up patient. “NO MORE. NO MORE… I’M SO SCARED…” Alexa pleaded with her caretakers, who seemed almost like torturers in that moment. Another 300j shock was subsequently delivered, the patient bawling and hyperventilating in response. “I DON’T WANNA DIE… I DON’T WANNA DIE…” A terrified Alexa stated post-shock to anyone within earshot. But once again, the deadly arrhythmia hadn’t gone anywhere. The team recharged the defibs to 360 to combat the form of tachycardia, promptly delivering the next shock. The agony of the shock caused Alexa’s toes to scrunch up hard at the end of the table, showing off the bright white nail polish on her toes, along with the deep, wavy, silky wrinkles throughout the soles of her tiny size 5.5 feet. “PLEASE… NO MORE… NO MORE… I DON’T WANNA DIE…” She sobbed loudly, practically begging for her life. Even the maximum strength of the defibrillator shock couldn’t correct the problem. The defibs were yet again charged to 360j, and the next shock was delivered, everyone hoping for a change. “Oh….” Alexa moaned softly, wincing in pain, her body tensing up and shivering for a moment.

Following the second 360j shock, Alexa’s condition changed. Her eyes opened wide. She gasped for air. She clenched her chest, the palms of her hands feeling her heart race. At the far end of the table, she was fidgeting around with her feet, moving them side to side a bit. “Alexa? Sweetie?” Asked Nancy, alarmed by the noticeable change. Suddenly, Alexa’s hands dropped from her chest, falling limp to her sides. Her cries stopped. Her yelling and moaning stopped. Her gasping stopped. Her fidgeting stopped. But most importantly, her heart stopped.

Alexa laid there completely motionless, her eyes still wide open, her mouth agape. A look of absolute terror still etched on her face. Nancy knew what she was seeing- it wasn’t the veteran ER nurse’s first death stare. “Alexa? Hunny?” Nancy asked, doing a firm sternal rub on the 22 year old. Alexa laid there, her limp body barely reacting to the hearty sternal rub. “ALEXA?” Shouted Nancy, her level of concern growing exponentially. Again, Alexa just laid there, taking the hard sternal rub like it was nothing.

Dr Lindsay stood a short distance away, two of the fingers from her gloved hand were on the side of Alexa’s neck, hoping and praying to feel something. Lindsay pinched her lips for a second. “nothing.” The doctor remarked. Nancy and Lindsay’s eyes shifted over to the monitors, trying to see what they were up against. “Crap. Looks like v-fib. Lower the bed and start compressions, Nance.” Lindsay ordered.

The bed was lowered, and Nancy snipped off Alexa’s black bra, tossing it to the side, her hard, pierced nipples now exposed to the room full of strangers. Nancy placed the heel of her gloved hand on the middle of Alexa’s chest. She took her other hand, placed it on top of the other, and interlocked her fingers. Nancy kept her elbows straight, and began pushing down hard and fast. At the head of the bed, Dr Lindsay made the decisive move to intubate the young, tatted up patient for the sake of airway management. A 7.0 ET tube was carefully navigated into Alexa’s airway. Once at the correct depth and location, Lindsay began securing the tube with a blue tube holder. The holder occupied a good portion of Alexa’s lower face and mouth area. Alexa’s eyes were still wide open, staring helplessly above, almost appearing as if she was watching Dr Lindsay intubate her.

After Lindsay completed the intubation, nurse Heather swapped into Lindsay’s place to ambu bag. Heather gently squeezed the light blue bag every few seconds or so, providing much needed air to the poor soul laid out on the table. A short distance away, Nancy was finishing up a cycle of chest compressions. Alexa’s chest caved in deep. Her belly rippled outwards. One arm dangled off the side of the table, tapping along with the rhythm of the chest compressions being received. Alexa’s head bobbed and lolled in sync with each individual compression, while her feet swayed gently at the opposite end of the table. When Nancy finished the cycle of CPR, the team had decided to shock Alexa again.

The defib pads were once again put to use. A 300j shock was then sent into the poor girl. Alexa’s chest shot up dramatically, her back arching, her upper body plopping back down ungracefully within a few seconds. The shock did absolutely nothing, so it was time to deliver a 360j shock. Alexa let out a gasp, her body twitching violently for just a moment as the electricity darted through her body. V-fib persevered, so Alexa was zapped again. She gasped once more, her torso and upper extremities shivering. No change was noted afterwards, and the process was repeated. The next shock tossed Alexa’s petite body around on the table effortlessly. No time was wasted, so she was hit with the pads again. The next shock caused Alexa’s feet to leap up above the table and crash back down hard, showcasing her pretty, wrinkly soles once more. Like all the other shocks prior, nothing changed.

More and more time passed by the trio of caretakers, each minute seemingly passing by faster than the last. The team struggled to achieve what they had hoped, but kept fighting on for a bit, reluctant to give up on the beautiful young patient. They opted to shock Alexa again. And again. And again. AND AGAIN. They followed that up with numerous cycles of CPR. They pushed various medications into her IV line. But even after everything, v-fib stood victorious. At the 28 minute mark of the code, it was noted that Alexa’s pupils were fixed and dilated.

Given the prolonged downtime, blown pupils, maximum dose of drugs, and many failed defib shocks, our crew appeared to have exhausted all possible efforts. “Hold compressions.” Dr Lindsay barked. Nancy stopped CPR, then took a few steps back away from the table. Heather knew what was coming next, and detached the ambu bag from the breathing tube. Lindsay peeled her gloves off and looked at the clock on the back left wall of the room. “Time of death, 12 midnight exactly. Way to start off the day…” Lindsay huffed, feeling defeated. “what a shame...” Nancy shook her head.

Just like that, everyone had to shift gears. The chirping, beeping, alarming monitors that still showed v-fib were switched off. The EKG electrodes were disconnected from the girl’s chest. The IV lines were taken out. The defib pads were peeled off. While basic postmortem care was going on, Alexa just laid there, her eyes still wide open. The detached ET tube and blue holder remained in place, a horrified gaze still on her face. At the opposite end of the table, a toe tag was filled out and placed. The tag hung from the big toe of her left foot, dangling against the soft, undulated wrinkles that seemed to pop out from the soles of her small feet. Lastly, a cover was placed over Alexa’s body, covering up her bruised, battered chest, concealing the hauntingly beautiful gaze on her face.

What was supposed to be another fun night for Alexa turned out to be her last. The poor girl clearly didn’t know her own limits, and came across the wrong substance. Now Alexa laid toe tagged and under a sheet in our ER, becoming one of far too many drug casualties, showing just how fast it could all come to an end.

#resus community #cpr #resus writing #cpr female #defib #defibs

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babylon-crashing · 1 month ago

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the psycho'vac

I. In a glass case in the dark in an alcove in the dark in a church in Rome, in Sienna, in Florence, bits of saints mummified like the monkey's paw or Daniel Dravot's withered head sat in the dark waiting for the faithful to pass by, tourists to gawk at, for children of archeologists to be terrified by. Outside the Uffitzi one could buy postcards fragments of Bosch's Last Judgement (1504) reaction against sexuality that was creeping back into the faith – every where lusty, fleshy figures were being torn apart, swallowed whole by frog-eggs, tossed into pits of fire and snakes, onto pitchforks and trees of thorn while the saved, the fleshless, desiccated, loosely built creatures closed their eyes and lay upon the ground to pray.

II.

It starts while you sit in an outdoor cafe near the great clock in the ex-Lenin Square, forever at 11:45, while swallows who nest in the ruined eaves dart low, dark sickle-flashes, sweeping, skimming. Your notebook is open, pen cast down. You sip at the tiny cup of bitter coffee-sludge (when you are at a friend's house the old tatik takes the finished cup from your hands and reads the ground-stains, having you press your thumb into the hot residue, always with the curious shapes rimming the inside lip.) There is a smell thunder in the air. It starts when you walk down one of the city's mud streets, the rain coming down for four days nonstop. You stand in a crumbled doorway, a truck rumbles past full of cabbage heading for the market, spraying mud and gravel into the air. The wave-like clouds come down off the nearby mountains, things urgent and low to the ground, overwhelming the ruined factories and caved-in apartments, the one-room emergency boxes families of eight or twelve had been living in for the last seven years. It starts as you walk down the street. Under your boots, laying in unmarked graves, thousands of bodies, crushed and buried, their calls bubbling to the surface. Waiting for someone to hear.

III.

After the first baby in the orphanage you work at dies, then the second and finally a third, you go on a walk. It has been lightly snowing. Behind the city lays the broken rail yard. Even though there is no penicillin at the rail yard and none of the doctors who refuse to come to the orphanage to heal "things" as they call your babies will be there, you walk without a hat in the late afternoon gusts. You climb up through an abandoned cab engine, the iron sticking slightly to your gloves, its wooden passenger carriages trapped under a fallen wall. The train - its olive green and chrome and red 1940s Soviet art deco - slightly covered in wet-powder. At your feet, in the lee of the cab engine, dozens of empty hypodermic needles. Beyond the cab, the twisted rail lines; toppled buildings and other ruins; open pits of crude oil sunk in the ground; a whole roundhouse with the roof caved-in. It looks like a temple. Something holy, but you who never believed in the sacred or the holy, who saw ghosts as simply cultural abstractions. When you reach the roundhouse you find nothing inside but rubble and years and years of snow.

IV.

Humor. An US Embassy worker, an American working for a Foreign Aide organization and a Peace Corps Volunteer run into each on the street. Soon an Armenian friend walks by.

"This morning for breakfast," the Armenian said, "I had Frosted Flakes with milk."

"You had Frosted Flakes?" cried the Embassy worker, "How did you get Frosted Flakes in Armenia?"

"Oh, I bought them at the black market store near my house."

"You had milk?" cried the Foreign Aide worker, "How did you get milk?"

"Oh, I mixed the powdered milk with water."

"You had water?" cried the Peace Corps Volunteer, "How did you get water?"

All winter long you were in isolation

watching it grow. You had given up

on the poetry brought in the 40-pound

box from home. You had not spoken

English in over three months, ever since the first

frost coated your pillow – there was no heat

in your hut, the rains turned to ice.

You wore your jacket and thermals and gloves

to bed and gave up on poetry. Reading

a poet writing about wasted sex no less

in San Francisco was a hateful thing.

Reading a poet, in Berkeley, where they

have everything, speculate on her fat

soul was a hateful, too. Under your floor

boards the dead called out your name, until

vodka, Russian water, kept the their

voices at bay. Intolerable, how clear they

came in. All of them complained,

griped, belly-ached in a language

untranslatable until your perception:

It was a cross between Armenian

and Russian that the old women spoke

down in the market.

VI.

It is sad to see these old people one, two, three generations apart from their children. These haughty, thin old people unable to speak of these things anymore, needing always to speak around them, as if at the dinner table to speak with clarity would make the magic happen all over again. To listen to them submerge their magic, to protect their children. There was a woman, nearly a hundred, who lived in a nearby village. As a baby she had escaped the Young Turks' Genocide in 1915, had witnessed the USSR rise and fall and had lost eighteen children and grandchildren in the earthquake. You visit her, she speaks in the ancient language, the old Armenian words, "God has forsaken the Armenians" – and spends her time looking for her god among the graveyards where 50,000 of her people died in 4 minutes in 1988. You will be leaving soon, returning on a 32-hour flight. Numbers. Something is inside you. Parasite. You will be leaving soon, and she has no more use for the living. Her words drop away, become muddled, confused, a lexicon of secrets, you pass by gravestone after gravestone on the way to the surface, thousands of them, until there is no more room for air.

VII.

Of course, you

take it with you.

It grows hideous

inside you, even

after the Peace Corps'

doctors arrived and demanded

that you are Medically

Evacuated -- the ol' Psycho

Vac -- three days before your

twenty seventh birthday, you

take it with you. You have

grown thin now, fleshless,

desiccated. They do not

even let you say good-bye

to your babies, such is the state

they find you in. On the flight

back to DC you sit next to

a woman, Dutch ex-missionary,

who explains that sometimes,

the young men God has sent

to do his bidding go crazy.

They, who fear for the safety

of their souls above all else,

do not know how to take

care of themselves so far from home.

She knows this, she assures you,

she has seen it happen. As

the stewardess pushes the cart

for the evening's meal by your seat

the thing that rests inside you

gurgles once in agreement

and then is still.

][][

Notes.

This is it, my grand attempt back in 2002 to put words to my nightmare.

The poem starts out in Italy because that is where I learned, for the first time, about the religious fever dream that is Hell, when I accidentally saw the LSD-madness of Hieronymus Bosch's art and it blew my little brain at the implications of such a concept. It didn't seem like much of a stretch to link the mummified bodies of Bosch's righteous in that painting with the babies dying under my care.

The, "the one-room emergency boxes," are called "domiks" and are basically railroad boxcars used to house the vast homeless population suddenly needing protection from the cold. Gyumri was never really rebuilt and 30 years later there are families still living in their rusted-out boxes.

#poetry #poem #psycho'vac #peace corps #armenia #gyumri #memories

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penvisions · 9 months ago

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the melting point {chapter 16}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (ex EMT! Reader)

Summary: In the aftermath of a rather eventful and terrifying last summer farmer's market, you try to find a semblance of normalcy as best you can. Meanwhile, Frankie is up to something that is beginning to cause you to worry about the burden you've become in your recovery.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: medical jargon, mild language, emotional monologues, internal monologue, negative feelings, negative thoughts, ptsd symptoms, pining, emotional pining, depressive thoughts, description of pain and injuries, blood, descriptions of post shooting chaos, panic attacks, notions of death, hospital setting, mentions of needles and iv's, mentions of narcotics, use of prescription narcotics, feelings of inadequacy, angst

A/N: um, so it's been four months since i've touched this fic, then i woke up yesterday morning and just began writing like nothing. takes breaks when you need to, don't force things and it'll all work out. please let me know what y'all think!

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“C’mon, hang on for me baby, please, don’t-don’t close your eyes.”

“Mantequilla, everything is gonna be okay, I promise, we’re all here for you, please know that everything is going to be okay.”

“We’ve got you, you did so good, you saved my little girl, you did, you saved her.”

“Honey, we all love you so much, please stay strong, I’ll hold your hand the entire way there.”

“Let’s get you turned over, ma’am, c’mon. There we go, you’re doing amazing.”

“Santi, she-she-“

“Papa!! Papa, please help her, I love her! Tio Santi, do something!!”

“Merde, that’s so much blood, Frankie you’ve gotta focus, you’ve gotta calm her down. Get her home safe, to your mother’s, somewhere safe.”

“Will!! They got her, call Morgan! She went missing the second things got crazy.”

“Has anyone seen Benny?”

“They’re transporting her now, rushing her to surgery the second the get there.”

“She’s lost a lot of blood, any donations with the same blood type would be appreciated. Who here is a positive?”

“Sweet girl, please, you’ve got to pull through, I know you can do it. You’re so strong.”

“No response, it’s been how many days now?”

“She’s being rushed into another surgery, she keeps clotting. They can’t figure out why.”

“Fransico Morales? You’re next of kin?”

“No, no, but we’re all she has. Her family is flying out, they’ll be here in a few hours.”

“Taylor, take a moment, it’s…it’s a lot to take in.”

“Daddy, why is tia all tangled in those machines, she’s going to be okay, right?”

“This is my son, he wanted to come and cheer her up because she always did the same for him when he was sick.”

“Please, mi amor, please, you have to make it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.

Fractered memories played over each other, words echoing and bouncing off of each other through the fog that was all you knew. You couldn’t feel anything, all of your senses stripped away, and you were nothing more than a half-conscious mind tunneling in and out of suspended darkness.

Beeping, an even beeping was the only steady thing you could make out. Sense of environment completely gone and sense of awareness slowly trickling in. Your eyes hurt as you slowly blinked them open, the faint lights around you too bright and you clenched them shut with a huff that pulled at your lungs. The stillness of where you were was shattered as the clattering of a chair sounded, followed by a pair of hands tightening around yours that were settled over your middle. A hushed order to go fetch someone and then a deep voice was rumbling close. You turned your head toward the presence hovering close to your left side, drawn to whoever it was.

“Hey, hey, take it easy, sweet girl.”

A grunt sounded from deep in your chest as you tried to open your mouth and respond. Then a gasp when pain reverberated from the same spot. You tried to shift your legs, hips feeling oddly numb but you couldn’t quite feel them. It was as if they were asleep, but… you cracked your eyes open a second time, squinting down the length of the bed you were in. Your legs were there, obvious underneath the thin, knit, scratchy blankets that only a hospital possessed. You tried to shift again, but even your hips didn’t feel like a part of your body. Your eyes flew open completely, tearing up at the brightness of the room.

Shuddering breaths pulled deep hurt, but you tried to shift again and again but there was no movement underneath the blanket. None.

“Okay, alright, querida, please. Take a deep breath, it’s-it’s gonna be okay.” Frankie. It had been Frankie speaking to you, close to you. His hands reached out for your own, where you had pried them from him to try and prop yourself up, wires and tubes pulling, clattering against each other and making your head swim. “The doctors-“

“I know this must be quite a shock, but it’s good that you’re awake!” A white coat, thrown over a modest skirt and blouse, blonde hair. A kind face, pinched. A furrowed brow. Bad news on the tip of her tongue.

You tried to speak, demand why you couldn’t feel anything below your waist. But you could only croak out the faintest notions of words. Everything was a blur, the hospital room you were in a mess of blue and white, the beeping of machines hurting your ears. Nothing made any sense, confusion coloring every thought as to how you got here and why.

“Let’s get you some water and food first, your body is pretty weak right now. Can I get a level two meal delivered to room thirteen eighty-nine, please?” She turned to address someone who had been hidden behind her, a nurse in teal scrubs.

“Tell me.” You managed to croak out, eyes fixated on her pinched ones.

“I would really prefer to get you a little acclimated.”

“No.”

Her eyes flickered toward Frankie, as if in a silent plea to get him to calm you down and put you at ease however little he could manage. But you ignored the warm weight of his hand on your shoulder, eyes trained on the doctor in front of you as you tried to find more strength to speak around the dry cotton feel of your mouth, the panging hunger that was present in your stomach, the lack of control over your body.

She sighed, arms holding the clipboard in front her in an imitation of a fig leave over her hips.

“We had you in a medically induced coma for the last two weeks. I’m not sure all of what you remember, the brain is fickle that way, pushing things and events out in response to trauma.” She didn’t look from you as the sound of fast steps approached the door, nor when a large figure moved passed her and came straight to your right side. It was Taylor. Both of the most important men in your life on your sides. He was quiet, but you could see the evidence of tears in the puffiness of his eyes, the lack of a smile on his face as he hovered close.

“You were hit in the sacrum and coccyx region, paralyzing you from the waist down. We performed three surgeries to remove the bullet shards and repair as much of the damage as possible. Your blood flow and reflex reactions have improved but we had no way of knowing if anything truly worked until you woke. A week has passed since we stopped inducing you, we were beginning to think you might not wake up.”

The rest of the conversation was a blur, medical terms floating heavy in the air of the room. Daunting, terrifying, life altering. You didn’t think you could handle another life altering event of this caliber. But it didn’t look like you had to traverse it alone. You teared up once the doctor left the room, offering to come back and talk to you once visiting hours were over, though she had mildly glared at both men as she said it. But knowing them both, they had been alternating staying the night to watch over you past the set hours that allowed for them to be present.

You had two wonderful men who were willing to do anything for you, one with a friend group who would follow his lead and the other who had given you so much already. You hoped it wouldn’t be too much, taking what they were willing to give.

“It’s a lot,” Taylor’s voice broke, his words spoken through eyes glittering with tears. His hands tight around yours as he leaned his forehead against yours, completely in your personal space. “But we’ve done somethin’ like this before and we can do it again. We can do it again.”

You could only nod, throat and voice still weak from weeks of disuse.

He walked closer to the side of the bed, the man’s large build shadowing over you in the dimmer setting of the lights you had requested. The full effect of them too bright for you eyes after being unconscious for so long. You reached out to him, urging him to sit atop it as best he could as you all but threw yourself at him. He let you, aware of Frankie standing close to the other side, eyes watering as he heard the cries that began to bubble up from you.

“I-I-“

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m here. We’re both here.” Taylor murmured, as he wrapped his own arms around you to pull you close. He smelled like your apartment, a mix of faint buttercream and the rose perfume you favored all rolled into one comforting scent. His own masked by the time he had been in town. “Alfred was here too, but he had to be taken back for school. He sat with you every day for that first week and read to you. He was so worried about you, mami. He kept talking with you like he always does, hoping you would wake up and respond.”

Frankie excused himself, his phone beeping in his pocket and the sound of you crying too much for him to handle all at once. You watched him leave the room, his shadow visible through the blinds in the window looking into the room as he paced up and down the hallway just outside. His voice a low murmur as he spoke with whoever had been trying to contact him.

“I didn’t mean to scare him…or you. I’m so sorry, that call – it must’ve been so terrifying.” You hiccupped into his chest, unable to stop the tears and emotions from flowing all at once, overwhelmed and completely at a loss of how to respond to anything at the moment.

Hushed words eradicated any ill thoughts you were having of yourself, comforting in their genuine indication. He assured you he had been able to handle it, that he was able to handle the hard things that came along with being bonded with someone for life, for knowing someone for so long. For having already done something similar before. But yeah, that it had been scary but Frankie had been as detailed and direct as he needed to be, levelheaded in his description of what had happened and what immediately happened afterwards.

Frankie came up to you both as he entered back into the room, a hand on both your shoulders to get your equal attention. You looked up at him with watery eyes, feeling so proud of how everyone was trying to keep it together for you but guilty at the same time since it had been something they had been dealing with for weeks now.

“That was the airline, they need someone to come in and take over a few tours for double pay. I wouldn’t normally turn them down and I will if you need me here. You’re awake now and I want to be here with you.”

“Y-you should go, if you want to, if you need to.” Scratchy words spoken with what little conviction you could muster. He was conflicted, worried about making the wrong decision.

“You need me here.” He didn’t argue so much as read the thoughts in your mind as clearly as if you had displayed for him to see. “You want me here.”

“Yes, but….money is money, Frankie. For your house, for your daughter, for everything. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“I’m gonna run and get a coffee before you head out, I’ll stay the night, okay?” Taylor announced before he pressed a kiss to your temple and stood. Leaving you and Frankie truly alone for the first time since you woke up. You reached out to the man, gripping his open flannel shirt and lightly pulling him toward you. But he didn’t budge, his feet stable on the ground and his back not leaning to meet you. He wasn’t looking quite at you, but just beyond you. His eyes a little distant.

“I’m sorry.” Pulling your hands back to rest in your lap, you began to twiddle your fingers, unsure of what to do, unsure of why he was acting so weird and distant. Maybe he was just exhausted, mentally wiped out from waiting and waiting for you to wake up. Maybe…he was rethinking everything he’s once promised you…

“Hey, no, you don’t have to be sorry.” His eyes caught your own, his hands reaching out to hold your own as he kneeled down to be at your eye level. Emotions you couldn’t read swirling behind them. “I just- It’s just… you’re awake. And I’m so scared I’m going to open my eyes or wake up and you’ll still be unconscious…or passed.”

“I am awake.” You insisted, worried about this being an elaborate dream all the same. Some made up fantasy your brain concocted in its last moments and none of it was real, that you weren’t real anymore.

“I want to stay,” He pleaded with you, desperate for you to understand how hard it is for him to make the decision to leave, to heed the call of an entire week’s worth of pay in just a few days. But he had a plan and he had to stick with it, it would be for the best in the long run.

“C-can you stay tomorrow?”

“Of course, sweet girl. I promise. I just- this is important. For the both of us. I swear.”

“I believe you, Frankie. I love you.” You lifted your intertwined hands and kissed his knuckles. He repeated the words before he shrugged his jacket on and bid you goodnight. He didn’t kiss you back, instead squeezing your hands twice in farewell.

“Hermosa, I-I just-“ Frankie hung his head, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees the next evening.

He had gone home to change and get a little sleep after a hectic two days of back to back tours. A touch restful now that he knew you were awake, but still fleeting. His thoughts had been a jumble as his mind flashed your unconscious form across the backs of his eyelids. Bleeding, hyperventilating, being rushed into emergency surgery not once but three times. Of you completely still save for the slight rise and fall of your chest laid out in the hospital bed. “I don’t want to say the wrong thing or diminish anything but- just thank you.”

“You saved her, at such a great risk to yourself. But you did, you saved my little girl when I couldn’t. I have endless love and admiration for you, querida. Please, I am here for you. I will help you with whatever you need or want. And not just because of this, but…but until you don’t want that anymore. You’ve got me, sweet girl. I promise.”

The conviction in his tone was strong despite the way his words were pushed out with deep breaths, trying to keep his composure. His shoulders were quaking with the effort he was holding back another wave of tears. Too many emotions for him to handle since the second you had rushed in front of that gun aimed at his daughter.

“Come here,” You softly compelled him, trying to shuffle atop the bed. Feeling still numb below the tops of your thighs, only some control over your legs that you were trying not to dissect. Going over your charts and test results had helped a little, compartmentalizing that it was happening to you and mind working to help solve and reason the things you read as if it was a patient of your own. Work. And a lot of it was ahead of you.

Frankie shuffled up and out of his shoes, choosing to urge you forward softly so he could be the one resting against the back of the angled bed. He helped to situate you against his chest, his arms coming around you in a warm embrace, the smell of his cologne and body wash puffing up and surrounding you in a comforting way. He pressed kisses to the crown of your head, nose shuffling in your hair and making you sigh out at the human contact.

“I would do it again, in a heartbeat. Even knowing what would happen.”

“Te amo. Te tango mucho amor ti, querida.” He whispered hoarsely in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. All you could do was repeat the words to him, meaning them with everything in your very being. Bringing his hands up to rest over your heart, palms flat over your chest, you both just laid there soaking up each other’s company.

His thoughts took over as you felt your breathing even, reaching over to silence the television that had been playing quietly in the corner where it was installed high on the wall.

‘Everything was so loud, a cacophony of too sharp frequencies grating on his ears as he watched the way your body fell to the ground. The man with the gun fleeing from the scene as soon as the gun had fired, steps heavy as he ran as fast as he could. Pope taking off immediately after him, his own gun pulled from the holster attached to his belt. Permission to carry it around off the clock from one of the local military bases where he worked as a freelance advisor.

Frankie was rushing too, toward you. Toward his daughter. Toward you both. There was a pool of blood forming beneath you, having twisted yourself to prevent from falling on top of Alexia’s smaller frame. She was kneeling beside you, tears running down her cheeks as you reached up to cup her face. A pinched expression on your features and blood blooming dark low on your front. His little girl turned to him as he crashed to his knees behind her and brought her in a crushing embrace to his chest, hearing the hum of the crowd that had begun to form all around.

Shouts to call 911 and responses that more than one person was already speaking with officers, telling them of what had just happened.

She begged him to help you.

She begged him to save you.

Shouting at him in her small voice that she loved you and she knew he loved you too.

She buried her face in his chest as he leaned forward to try and get your eyes to focus on him, but you were barely able to keep them open. Lashes fluttering as your breath became labored. He was speaking, words falling from him as he fell back on years of training. Pinging questions off one after the other, getting no response from you for even one. Unresponsive in the worst way, body completely laid out before him and eyes now completely closed. You could’ve been sleeping, as you were still for a fleeting moment.

But then you started to convulse, body fighting against the bullets that had landed deep in your body. He tried to tilt your head toward him, to avoid you biting on your tongue or choking on your own breath.

A new set of hands was taking over, gently ushering him away as paramedics appeared on the scene.

He could only hold tight to his sobbing daughter as he watched the two technicians tend to you. Your chest ceasing heaving at an alarming rate, your breath almost rattling as your lungs desperately tried to keep working.

Blinking rapidly, Frankie focused his eyes on his hands curled over the controls in front of him. He was flying, the landscape of the city and surrounding greenery, the ocean all laid out before him. He was okay, you were okay. Alexia was okay.

He was at work. He was okay.

His fingers twitched at the clueless ‘ooh’s’ and ‘ahh’s’ of the tourists clamoring for views outside the windows. Their voices coming in clear through the headsets they wore to match his own. Completely in their own world and no problems plaguing them. Carefree.

He was at work. He wasn’t okay.

He should’ve stayed with you.

He should’ve turned down the offer.

But he had run at the first opportunity. Unable to stop the events from replaying in his mind on a loop.

Preventing him from sleeping, preventing him from being able to look at you half the time. Seeing you as you had looked right after the attack, seeing you as they rushed you onto the ambulance, seeing you as your chest went completely still once loaded up. The way your body didn’t respond to the attempts of resuscitation.

Mind torturing him by projecting you laid out in an open coffin. Copper hair resting around your lifeless frame, beautiful face covered in the wrong shade of makeup, hiding the freckles that dotted your face from him. Forever closed eyelids hiding your bright eyes from him. Black dress hiding your soft skin from his twitching fingers, itching to trace the delicate ink that decorated your skin. A masterpiece taken from him in a cruel twist of fate.

Shaking his head minutely, he shoved the fake notions out of his head and pivoted the helicopter toward the coast. Following and announcing the route for the tour that the people sat behind him had requested.

He was at work and he didn’t think he’d ever be okay again. But he would try for you, because you were awake and waiting for him to return to you.

He pulled his sunglasses from where the frames were hanging from his collar and covered his reddening eyes.’

“Come on, two more steps and we’re home free.” The physical therapist was encouraging in the most grating of ways. Your normally polite and civil personality being shattered by the turn of events your life had taken. It was a lot of work now, but it had been a lot of work to initially discover that you had only minimal feeling and control over your lower half. Hips sore no matter how much medicine was added to your IV, legs numb and unresponsive more often than not.

But that didn’t stop the doctor from putting you on a physical therapy track of two appointments per week. Something you had thought was a lot right off the bat but not wanting to argue. Just as angered by the quick pace as you were determined to stick to it. It was the second week since waking up, discharge looming like a storm over the horizon, visible but not yet tangible.

There had been talk about Taylor renting a home to move into for the duration of your recovery. His son being taken care of by his co-parent back home with school having started. But Frankie had offered up his own home, a flush to his caramel skin as he did so. Not having wanted to ask you to move in under such dire circumstances. But he would be lying if he said the thought of offering you a space in his home hadn’t been on his mind lately.

Taylor had offered to split his time between Frankie’s and the apartment above the shop. An outpouring of love from the community delivered to the shop and hospital in overwhelmingly equal parts. Baskets of treats, flowers, cards, vouchers for services from all around the city and local vendors. Everything was being toted back between the two spaces that were now yours.

Lex indulging in the treats as she sat with you in the afternoons after school. Homework laid out before her atop the bed as you helped her with her math and writing. Different people picking her up while Frankie returned to work, determined to put in as many hours before he took two whole weeks off to help you transition to being home once you were discharged.

But right now, you were stood on shaking legs, arms braced heavily on the bars on either side of you as you stood between the set up of the parallel bars. Sweat dripping from your hair thrown up in a haphazard bun, skin sallow from the medication you were on a strict rotation of. You had forgone shoes, insistent that you wanted to be able to feel anything should it come back to you while practicing.

Your arms were shaking, holding up the entirety of your body weight on them, muscles straining and tattoos looking distorted with the flex of them. With a huff, you shifted your hips, right leg lifting slightly and managed to shuffle it about a foot before placing your foot down flat and tipping forward to even your weight with the new stance.

“Alright, you did it!” The nurse was a kindly young man, his arms hovering behind you as he waited for you to tap out. But you sucked in a deep breath and concentrated. Shifting your left foot ahead in the same manner before a spike of pain shot up from the arch of it as you settled it flat on the mat.

“Fuck! Okay, okay, I’m out. That’s all I got.” You wavered, arms shaking and legs beginning to tingle where you could feel them.

“That’s okay, you did good today. Four steps is progress.” The nurse helped you, gathering your form in his arms and lifting to get the pressure off your aching shoulders.

Santi was in the room when you were wheeled back, no sign of Taylor or Frankie. He informed you that they were both taking care of something for you which made you feel a little uneasy that they hadn’t told you themselves the night before that they wouldn’t be in to see you today. The nurse let the man take over with helping you get back into the bed, knowing you’d rather it be someone who you knew handling you for something a little more intimate of a move.

The man’s broad shoulders tensed as he supported your nearly dead weight, completely at a loss of energy from the days activities.

“Did they say where they were going?” You inquired, voice soft as you nuzzled your face into the man’s neck. He smelled so good and you were just in a very physically affectionate mood in wake of not getting any direct attention from Frankie in the way you were too hesitant to ask for.

“Mante, you know I would tell you if I knew, but they were like school boys, shuffling their feet and avoiding eye contact. I’m sure it’s just a surprise for you, don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

You were quiet for a moment, allowing the man to situate your aching legs as best he could and covering you up with the blankets that had been brought from your apartment. He busied himself with getting a take out bag unpacked and placing containers over the collapsable table attached to the bed for you. A cup of coffee that smelled of caramel and foamed milk pressed gently into your reaching hands. He was so diligent, the soft curls of his graying hair falling over his forehead as he focused. When everything was set up, he settled into the chair beside the bed with his own container and began to dig in.

But you were still, only a sip taken from the hot coffee handed to you.

“Santi…”

“What is it, hermosa?” He looked up from his food, utensils loaded up and a bite halfway to his lips. “I get the wrong thing?”

“No,” A small smile offered to him as your heart fluttered in your chest, unsure of how to even broach the concerns that were crashing over you in overwhelming waves. “No, this is great. Thank you.”

The man watched you, eyes scanning your face as you averted your eyes. He let out a quiet sigh and set down his utensils completely, asking you to tell him what was really on your mind.

“Frankie…he, um, he-“ You felt like a complete idiot as your face heated up, tears welling in your eyes unbidden. Foolish question, it was such a foolish thing to be worried about when the man’s words were nothing but reassuring and loving. “Why won’t he kiss me, Santi?”

“Is that what you need right now?”

You warbled out an affirmative. Feeling for all the world like a pathetic lovesick fool even surrounded by everyone who you could possibly need in your life right now, everyone working together to help you in any way possible.

“Have you talked to him about it?”

A shake of your head was all the answer you could muster up.

“He’s probably just trying to respect you, not wanting to put pressure on you to be that way with him if you’re too overwhelmed.” Santi went on to explain that his best friend had trouble with stuff like this, showing his affection and feelings in wake of traumatic events.

That you should try not to worry too much, though he knew that was easier said than done. To not take it personally, but he admitted to knowing that might be hard to do as well, everything so much at the moment. He reminded you that you could reach out to you with anything at any time. He would try his best to be there for you in any way that he could. Even jokingly offering to pepper kisses over your face and approaching you with overly pursed lips until you erupted into a laughing fit at how ridiculous he looked as he loomed closer. He sealed the conversation with a genuine press of his lips to the corner of your mouth, his hands cradling your face in their warmth before he moved back to his seat and ordered you to eat.

Across town, Taylor and Frankie had a similar conversation as a bell dinged above them where it was nestled in the doorway to a shop front. The two men determined to surprise you with something that Frankie had quietly brought up one night following your first rush into emergency surgery. An approval of sorts he had been seeking after was granted instantaneously with a smile and words of encouragement from the only other man he felt like he could share the conversation with at the moment.

“Discharge papers should be processed by end of day, looks like you’ll be spending the night in your own bed.” The doctor offered you a small smile. She had been worried about having you under her care when she found out you were a once trained medical technician, knowing how bad of a patient she was when sick herself. But you had surprised her, not talking over her or voicing opinions on what needed to be done. It had been another week, progress made in physical therapy.

You were able to walk the length of the parallel bars, slowly and with a lot of huffing and puffing. But it cleared you for outpatient treatment. The feeling in your legs was spotty, coming to you mostly in the mornings when you first woke up and at the end of the day after resting for a few hours. Something she was only mildly worried about, muscle atrophy from being unconscious for so long lingering even now.

But she had been confident that the feeling would come back completely, though she was honest when she said she was worried about numbness flaring up.

That’s how you found yourself seated in the passenger seat of Frankie’s truck as he pulled into the drive of his house. He was waiting for the garage to open, in order to make it easier for you to walk straight into the laundry room instead of having to attempt to tackle the stairs to the front door. Everyone would be over tomorrow, to celebrate your release. Giving you a free night to settle in and mentally deal with the shift in environments. Lex would be at her grandparents so Frankie could focus on getting you settled.

“One moment, just…want to get something set up before I help you out, okay?” His earnest gaze widened his beautiful eyes, watching you and making sure you were alright to be left alone for a moment. He was through the door and back in the garage in a matter of minutes, a shy smile aimed at you as he helped you down and got a walked ready for you. It had a cushioned seat in the middle, in case you needed to take any breaks when trying to move about. Something you wanted to argue but didn’t have a good one against.

You felt…weird. Having to rely on him so much, but extremely grateful that he was willing to. You’d seen friendships and relationships fall apart with this much stress and similar situations. Both as a professional and a civilian, as a friend. You only hoped this wouldn’t be one of the last things he did for you before telling you it was too much, that you were too much. Love could only encompass so much before it wasn’t enough to hold two individuals together.

Melancholic and depressive thoughts abundant as you tried to come to terms with what the near future would hold for an unknowable amount of time. There was no timeline with things like this and that’s what worried you the most. What if you had flares of numbness for the rest of your life, what if he began to see you as a burden, as work he had to come back to after doing his shifts at the mechanics and his flying tours. What if all your progress was meaningless and you woke up one day with no feeling at all?

He had hushed you on more than one occasion with soft words, promises he wouldn’t do that. Promises that he was yours, that you were his, that you were in this together. But doubt crept in regardless. Even more so in the realization that he hadn’t wanted to kiss you. He was quick to dodge your advances, placing placating touches of his lips to your hair instead; of pulling you tighter to his body instead. Almost as if he was hesitant to show you affection in that way and it was hard to handle when all you wanted was that type of comfort from the man you loved so completely.

His hands were warm as he supported your weight, but he didn’t shift you down to the ground completely, instead he pulled you flush against him. Your own arms tightened around his neck, feet barely touching the ground as he ducked his head to kiss you fully for the first time since you woke up in that hospital bed. You melted into him even more, welcoming his lips against yours reverently, desperately.

The plush give of them against your own feeling like a true welcome home.

Shifting your hands up into his soft hair, you knocked the cap clear of his head as you parted your lips for him. He held you tight, not risking you putting too much weight on your own feet for even a second as he kissed you again and again, lips meeting yours in a dizzying display of his unfettered affection. Pulling at his curls, you pivoted his head to deepen another kiss, desperate for his touch and his taste. He groaned into your mouth, pulling back slightly to rest his forehead against yours. You opened your eyes slowly, watching the way his face was completely relaxed. The lines of his age smoothed out slightly as he moved to peck one last kiss to your slick lips.

He had set the table up before picking you up, at home during the day as he had received your hopeful text about the paperwork this morning. But he had run inside to pull everything from where it was keeping warm in the oven, lighting twin tapers set in the middle of the dining table. You tried to hide the squeal of surprise as he lifted you up completely, choosing to carry you bridal style over the threshold of the house and through the laundry room and into the kitchen.

“Frankie, you didn’t have to do all this.” You placed a kiss to his cheek as he carefully set you down into a chair, making sure your legs were situated how you wanted them. “I woulda been happy with a fast-food drive thru, you know that.”

“I know, but I wanted to do something special for you.” He moved over to the closest chair, settling down into it with a sigh. He looked nervous, you realized as you took in the dinner had had made before picking you up. One of your favorite dishes filling the kitchen with its tantalizing scent. The boys had snuck in food from time to time, but it had mostly been bland hospital food for a majority of the last three weeks.

Frankie cleared his throat, your eyes lifting from the items on the table and toward him.

In his hands was an emerald velvet box, open to reveal a simple gold band with a sparkling rhombus diamond in the middle.

Your lips parted, a gasp falling from them as your heart stuttered hard in your chest. Hands dropping the utensils you had just picked up clattered to the table and you stared across the table at him. At a complete loss for words as he nervously shifted in his seat and leaned closer toward you to take your hands in his own, the small box set down gently beside your plate. His hands were shaking slightly, his nerves obvious as he bared his soul to you with his next words.

“Sweet girl, I know things are going to be touch and go for a long while,” He took a deep breath, chest pulling the fabric of his shirt taut with the action. His tongue peaked between his lips, a habit you noticed when he had a lot on his mind, and he was trying to sort through everything. “But I don’t want you to worry about anything to do with us, with you and me. You have me, you have me until the moment you decide you don’t anymore. I hope you don’t ever change your mind because I’ve been gone on you since the second you aimed that glare in my direction all those months ago. Will- will you do the honor of marrying me?”

Tears welled up the longer you looked at him, his eyes so wide and open, his voice cradling you with his earnest words. All you could do was nod, voice caught in your throat.

He let out a deep exhale, pulling a giggle from you when he broke out into the widest, goofy smile you had seen on him yet. You mirrored him, lips pulling as you squeezed his hands and leaned forward to rest your forehead against them clasped together.

“Of course I’ll marry you, Fransisco. Of course.” You kissed the tops of his hands, one and then the other before you were pushing yourself up slightly, tentatively placing weight on your legs and surging forward to kiss him.

He only let you get away with one before he was standing from his seat and kneeling in front of you with the box in his hands. He carefully removed the ring from its spot nestled safely inside the velvet cushion and you held out your left hand for him. It took a second for him to place it securely on your ring finger, snug and perfect against your skin. It glittered in the candlelight and you felt a tear run down your cheek.

Frankie’s hands came up to cup your face, his lips connecting with yours as he chuckled breathlessly at having managed to pull out the surprise proposal. At your resounding yes. At the prospect of a concrete future with you.

“I love you so much, thank you for...for everything.”

“I love you too, you dork,” Your laugh sparkled against his parted lips. “I can’t believe you just thanked me for agreeing to marry you.”

“Well, you could’ve said no.”

“Not in a million years.”

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dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics

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whumpfish · 6 months ago

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Extractions! (Tooth vs. Nail)

I've been wanting to do this one for a long time, for all you torture fans out there...

So I metabolize lidocaine like a motherfucker, and any time I get a local, I always have to get a second one halfway through whatever is being done. For the most part, doctors and dentists listen to me when I say this... for the most part.

Tooth

(The oral surgeon did not give me my second shot when I asked for it.)

1. Any fillings you have will collapse under the pressure of an extraction, even a medicated one. (I'm not sure if this is true for metal ones; all of mine are plaster.) It produces a half-crunch, half-thunk sound that reverberates in that half of your skull and sounds absolutely terrifying.

2. The pain of an unmedicated extraction is acute and radiating at the same time. The acute part feels more like having a stiletto stabbed upward into that space than a tooth taken out in a downward motion.

2a. In maxillary extractions, the stab goes straight up, and depending on the location of the tooth, that stab can feel pointed anywhere from your eyeball (frontmost) to right into your brain (rear).

2b. Mandibular extractions* stab downward from the chin (frontmost) to the hinge of your jaw and straight down your throat (rear).

3. The radiating part spreads like a flower blooming, from a concentrated central point outward in a rolling movement.

4. Your ears might pop like an airplane taking off as that blooming pain reaches the hinge of your jaw. Sometimes only in the one ear.

Nail

(I have been doing minor self-surgery** for years because I am genetically predisposed to ingrown nails, and if I don't catch it in time, they grow straight down and I have to extract them to be able to trim them. If I really don't catch it in time, they grow straight down and then curl backward, and I have to get an actual surgeon involved.)

1. Self-surgery, split off edge of nail, 0 to 1/2" down and backward: You have to wiggle these in a sawing/rocking motion back and forth in order to get that tiny bit of root to let go, and when you "saw" backward it feels more like a steak knife than a butter knife, this time moving with the direction of the nail. Then it reverses when you actually yank.

1a. The yank hurts more than the sawing, sharp like a stab from a steak knife instead of one being pushed in slowly.

1b. You will get the best whump out of a whumper splitting off the edges of the nail and doing this and then yanking the middle part

2. Medicated: Locals in the toe/finger area hurt like a bitch. They're sharp and needling like a stiletto to a paper cut, then if someone tried to pry that cut open. At the same time, they feel hot, almost burning. (Hotter than anesthetic being pushed through an IV, if you're familiar with that sensation.) And there are so many nerves involved that just the first round of locals takes 3-4 shots.

3. Unmedicated, grown down and backward, 1/2" to 3/4": The last time I went in, my surgeon said "given the amount of times I have to shoot you up, you'll probably hurt less if I just yank." (She was right.) This sumbitch goes in both directions, down/back from where the root is, then forward. The down/back is a stabbing pain. The forward is like somebody trying to pry open that papercut, a sensation probably caused by the fact that you are in fact messing with something stuck in a very small cut in the skin, in my case the cut was just caused by the nail that has now been removed.

4. If it is a toenail extraction, you are going to bleed significantly more than teeth or fingernails, because your body has to work harder pushing blood up through your leg veins than it does pushing it down into your shoe. Especially when you take a step. Ibuprofen makes this worse. If you take ibuprofen at all that day, expect your shoe to fill up when you take a step. (Mine did, scaring the tar out of everyone present, including me.)

Pain Intensity Verdict:

Teeth > Nails. By a LOT.

Happy yanking!!

*Because of nerve fuckery, dentists using the sonic cleaning tool despite my warnings results in a pain on the level of extractions, and the sensations described here are based on my experience with that.

**This never fails to horrify my friends. They'll see what I'm fixing to work on and say, "Oh ouch, that's bad, go to the doctor," and I'm just like "nah, just get me isopropyl alcohol and some office supplies, I got this."

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doctorvictoria10 · 7 months ago

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A stressful admission: Part 2

Tags - ED admission, nervous patient, slight cardio, slight ageplay, medical trauma, comfort.

It felt like her heart jumped out of her chest. A flash of different emotions quickly cycled through her, firstly fear, then shock, and then embarrassment.

“Um, yeah, come in.” She spoke timidly, unsure of who was on the other side of the door. There were several doctors she worked with who she definitely didn’t want it and to be, only maybe one or two that she would actually feel comfortable with. Maybe this was all a terrible idea and she should’ve stuck with the rushed ED doctor. A tall, broad figure poked his head around the curtain and she was so surprised - it wasn’t who she was expecting at all.

“Chloe!” The familiar voice called out gently. “I’m sorry you’ve been waiting so long. I only just got the call to ask if I could come and assess you. All of the OB doctors were busy - a few are off sick so they’re covering each others clinics too! I know we don’t know each other that well but we cross paths every now and then don’t we!” He spoke cheerily.

It took Chloe a while to take it all in. Doctor Jack Canning, a pediatrician, stood before her. She’d been at emergencies where he was there before, he liased closely with her department as there was often an overlap between their professions. He was always smiling, calm and composed, but she’d never really had a proper chat with him before, or gotten to know him.

“Oh, hi. Um, thanks for coming!” She spoke timidly.

He took in her anxious energy and worried expression, she didn’t look her normal self at all. “Are you okay?” He asked seeming genuinely concerned.

She let out a light laugh “Yeah, apart from a case of extreme embarrassment at this whole situation, I’m fine. I just, I collapsed and got brought in. And then I woke up and two people were planning to poke me with needles, and I really hate being a patient, it all got too much and I guess I freaked out.” She admitted shyly, trying to explain why he’d been called out of his day looking after babies to deal with his 26 year old, definitely not a baby, coworker in ED.

He nodded slowly. “May I sit?” He gestured to the bed. Chloe nodded her consent. “Chloe, you don’t need to be embarrassed. I read your notes, I saw you told the doctor before that you had medical trauma from when you were a child. Your reaction to waking up and hearing plans of IV’s and finger pricks and all sorts is completely understandable. It’s scary for someone who hasn’t had the experiences you’ve had, let alone someone who’s also worked in the medical field and knows that not all professionals are kind and patient like we are.” He spoke seriously, and it made her feel validated in the strangest way. She nodded slowly, agreeing with everything he was saying, and she let her fake smile she’d forced herself to wear to downplay the situation slide away. And left was a scared little girl who was terrified of being put in the same situation as she was in seventeen years ago when she was rushed to emergency surgery in agony and fear.

Jack let her sit with that for a moment. Then he continued in a serious but gentle voice. “I agree with the plan the ED doctor has made, the tests and treatments he wants done. But that doesn’t mean you have to accept them, you have a choice, if you let me look after you or not. If you let me look after you, we can take it slow, do it at your pace. We can see how we can maybe make things easier for you. If you won’t let me look after you, I can get you a self discharge against medical advice form and you can sign that and leave whenever you want. It’s up to you, but I’d strongly advise the former option, and I think you know it’s for the best.” He spoke, so gently it was almost soothing. His words resonated with her and seemed to calm her right down. This was her choice, she was an adult now, not a little girl, she could leave whenever she wanted. Jack saw all these thoughts running through her head, her eyes focused.

“I can see you're getting lost in your own head there. Come back to me.” He said quietly. Her eyes met his and she was snapped out of her chaotic thoughts about the situation.

“Isn’t this weird for you? I’m sorry I’ve pulled you away from your work, you must think I’m really weird and silly. You work with babies and kids, and I’m just an adult who’s stressing out about something that I really should be able to deal with.”

Chloe blurted out, blushing in frustration at herself and her inability to keep her anxiety under control.

He pondered what she’d said, and then began slowly. “Looking after babies, they need constant attention and kindness. Precision and accuracy is imperative. I care for them, make them better and I nurture them. And I’d love to do the same for you if you’d let me.” He held her gaze.

Chloe looked at him shyly, she felt herself retreating inwards again, feeling cared for wasn’t a feeling she was used to, her cheeks felt like they were on fire. She felt so embarrassed at the situation she was in. He sensed her embarrassment and hesitation, so he continued.

“Don’t you think this is a little too unlikely? You’re here, sick. You have medical trauma from an emergency surgery when you were critically unwell as a child, and now you’re sitting here with another pediatrician who wants to help you not only in the present, but maybe I can help you heal that inner child, that scared little girl at the same time too.” He smiled gently.

She thought for a moment, this wasn’t a likely situation, and he did seem to genuinely care. The knowledge that she could leave at any time felt safe and reassuring. Slowly she nodded. “Okay. Yeah, if you think it’ll be okay.”

“I think it’s a great idea, and I’m really glad I can look after you and hopefully get you feeling better. Just keep communicating with me okay? I’m not going to do anything without your consent, so you let me know if you’re not feeling comfy and we can reassess together.” He promised.

Chloe nodded at him, and he nodded back.

“Okay then. Let’s get started!” He lightly clapped his hands together. “Can you undress and put this gown on for me?” He held up a pale blue hospital gown. Jack sensed her apprehension, “I’ll need to run some cardiac tests, and palpate your abdomen, this’ll make it easier for us both!” He explained.

Chloe slowly and groggily reached for the gown. She felt so weak still. She dropped it beside her on the bed and started trying to shimmy out of her dress.

“Would you like me to help you?” Jack asked her, seeing her struggle with the fabric in her feeble state.

He was going to see her top half bare anyway, if it was now or in five minutes, did it really matter? Chloe internally questioned herself. “Yes please.” She spoke quietly, lifting her arms up for Jack to assist lifting the dress over her head. He quickly had her in the gown and she was laying back against the pillows soon enough.

“You feel cold Chloe, can I get you a blanket?”

“That would be great, it’s freezing in here!” She rubbed her arms. With a gentle smile and nod, Jack was heading out of the room. He returned quickly with two beige blankets in his arms.

“These are from the warmer!” He draped one around her shoulders and one over her body. The warmth felt so comforting and she felt herself relax into the bed. “Now Chloe, where would you like to start?” He asked carefully. When she didn’t reply and just stared at him with wide eyes he offered, “If you’re happy for me to take the lead, I’d like to get an IV in so we can take bloods and get the results processing whilst we do the rest of the exam. I can also be giving you some fluids and if you like, a relaxant for your nerves?”

Chloe nodded slightly, eyes still wide. He watched her, concerned but also interested.

“Chloe, I can see you’re retreating into yourself, and that’s completely okay, but I’m going to need a verbal confirmation before I do this. I’m going to put in an IV, take bloods, start fluids and give you a relaxant medication. Once you’re relaxed, I’m going to check your blood sugar, assess your heart and feel your tummy. I’m going to look after you throughout, I’m not going to cause you any unnecessary discomfort or upset, I’m going to be as gentle with you as I can. Can you say ‘Yes, that’s okay’?” He looked at her for a long moment.

“Yes, that’s okay” Chloe spoke quietly, in a voice that wasn’t quite her own. It sounded childlike, vulnerable. Her little space caught her off guard. It was usually controllable, she could choose when to drop and when not to, but this situation and Jack were pulling it out of her.

Jack gave her a knowing look and smiled softly. “Okay then, let’s begin.” 🖤

#story #doctorvictoria10

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fel0ny-01 · 10 months ago

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Anyway, continuing from my month hiatus I am here to give you: 141’s phobias!

Soap - Fear of Needles

John MacTavish, the almighty sergeant from the highly regarded task force 141. The youngest candidate to ever pass SAS selection, the man who disarms bombs for a living, who’s been stabbed more times than he can count on both of his hands, who is unafraid to stand in the face of death and spit on his boot, is afraid of needles. Now, there’s nothing wrong with being afraid of needles, it’s a common fear, yes? A lot of people have it. But not to the extent that Soap has it.

Trips to medical are a nightmare, if someone even mentions the possibility of blood work or iv’s, his heart rate doubles and he’s thrashing and trying to get out of there. Not even Ghost can calm him down.

He usually has to be sedated (which is the worst part because you need to make sure 1. That he doesn’t notice, and 2. the needle doesn’t snap with the force that he’s using to try and get away) to even think about getting a needle in any part of his body. And even then he’s fighting to get away. He will literally do anything to run, even when they have the hardest grip on his arm, he’d rather it rip off or dislocate than get a needle in his arm.

Due to this fear, he only goes to medical if he’s forced, threatened with discharge or unconscious. Stitches are also a nightmare as-well, he would rather bleed out than get a needle pushed through his skin with thread.

Price - Fear of being alone

Price’s fear is usually something he tries to conceal from the others. The other 3 share their experiences openly, (well almost openly, it had to take a bit of opening up from Ghost) but eventually they were all able to make adjustments for each other.

And Price insisted that he didn’t have anything that would interfere with their line of work, but this one interferes the most. Each and every mission they take, Price is full of anxiety and is always tense because at any moment could he lose each and every one of his boys.

Only when they get back to base safe does he ever actually relax, all the anxiety seeps from his body because his boys are okay, Kate is okay.

He eliminates every single one of the things that may endanger the ones he loves, even if it means breaking a few rules to get there.

On the worst days, he can’t sleep on his own so he usually sleeps on the floor beside Gaz, until the sergeant forces him into bed so that he can properly rest. He has a little clue of what’s going on, but he doesn’t want to pry about it until Price feels okay to open up about his fear.

Ghost - Fear of mirrors

Something about looking in a mirror or any reflection sends chills down Ghost’s spine. It sends his body into fight or flight whilst he desperately tries to figure out a way to tear his eyes away from the one thing that he’s afraid of.

A lot of people are scared of mirrors due to the fact that there could be something spiritual, or that there is another world behind a mirror, and that concept is terrifying.

But ghost is afraid of what’s in the mirror, what looks back at him every time he comes in contact with one, himself.

He didn’t get similar symptoms to Johnny, its more of a deer in headlights, his palms sweating and his heart racing, his reflection unmoving just like he was; not daring to make eye contact with the demon in the mirror, but now he’s decided to wear his mask, it’s much easier to pass by a mirror or even look into it, because he doesn’t see Simon Riley, he sees Ghost.

He’s working on it though, he promises.

Gaz - Fear of heights

Now Kyle didn’t have any fears prior to the helicopter incident. He just got on with things and made sure to dive headfirst into whatever he possibly could.

But after dangling out of a helicopter above a moving road with lots of cars with armed soldiers In them, it can do stuff to a guy.

Anytime he looks down from cliffs or even standing on top of a table to change one of the lightbulbs, nausea overcomes him and he starts to become dizzy, his head reeling as his entire body telling him he needs to throw up. More often than not, he passes out.

It wasn’t nice for anyone having to catch an unconscious sergeant from the top of a table after he threw his guts up onto the floor.

Usually he can switch off and just get on with zip lining but now he can’t do it without feeling like his insides are turning inside out, but nobody blames him.

#call of duty #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #john price #phobias of the 141 #cod mw2

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honey-minded-hivemind · 6 months ago

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Alright iv read through the needle and thread au stuff and id imagine that reader moves around a lot with their hiding places each one being just as if not more dangerous than the last

I can also imagine them having resorted to weaponizing whatever they can for their own safety they’re not going to lose their eyes without a fight afterall

you mentioned how some of the yans might go back to readers og world to get revenge for how they treated reader,so that means they’res a way out of the other world? what if reader found that out and started scheming to escape?

does the doll spy on reader for the yans like in the movie? what if they burned the doll?

Yes, indeed! Reader goes from hiding place to dangerous hiding place to more dangerous hiding place, which upsets and makes the platonic try even harder to get them. And Reader is using anything as a weapon: a rock, scissors, a branch, a vase, even things like blankets or doorstoopers.

So, there is a lake of sorts that is the gateway, and to get between worlds, you have to jump in and fully submerge yourself. It doesn't always work, but it usually does, at least for the Others. If Reader found this lake again, they'd be going as deep as they could if it meant they kept their eyes and lived...

The platonic yans don't take kindly to humans hurting their kids, so if they prove to have been awful, they have a hunt for the ones who did it... And what a bloody night that is, getting rid of any pests who hurt their little ones...

And if Reader was the actual biological kid to one of the adult Others, their parent has a doll version of themswlf to guard their child, to watch over them, and to give them comfort. In this case, Reader was taken from them, likely when the platonic yan gave birth in the human world, rather than the Other world...

(Others are not exactly human... they can give birth if they want, they can stay sterile, it doesn't matter to them. If they want to change to a friendlier form, they can. If they want to be terrifying, they can. And if someone tries to take their child? Any kindness is gone, replaced with a bitter, poisonous hate, and sharp, gleaming claws...)

(This was fun! Ask questions for this AU or the Nectar of the Bees AU or any other AU you want! Have a good day!)

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #yandere platonic marvel #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere marvel x reader #platonic yandere xmen evolution #platonic yandere xmen evolution au #🪡needle and thread🧵 au

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boundinparchment · 2 years ago

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Dream a Little Dream of Me - XXVIII

Celestia has a cruel sense of humor. He’s always known this, ever since his days as a student. But a soulmate? Really? Dottore/Female Reader Soulmate AU. Lore speculation, interpretations, etc. On AO3 here.

He caught you after you swayed, your claymore falling with a clatter as your body gave out from the sudden demand for energy it didn’t have. The last thing you needed was a concussion.

Not that it mattered. A concussion might have, perhaps, rid you of the knowledge of everything if your head struck the ground just so. If you were a test subject perhaps he would have let you fall. But wasn’t this entire experience, finding you to begin with, just another experiment? Why else had he sought you out other than to see what Celestia deemed worthy for someone like him? A heretic, a blasphemer, who still somehow received both a Vision and a soulmate.

He didn’t dream for centuries, not in that way, and not before you came along. Adults in Sumeru did not dream, a well-known fact inside the nation, one that perpetuated itself even now; a byproduct of the Akademiya’s rejection of Buer.

Dottore adjusted his hold on your body and lifted you as though you were nothing more than part of the arm of a Ruin Guard, and settled you back onto the sofa. Your arm continued to bleed from the IV site, where you’d torn the needle from your skin.

He did not like this sensation, the way the ache radiated outwards from his chest with every squeeze of his still-human heart. Would it still hurt if that organ were synthetic, like his Segments’? He should have seen to that before coming here.

If you care about me, let me go.

The way your voice cracked stabbed him deeper than the words themselves. Dottore long since stopped listening to the words themselves, rolling off of him like raindrops on oiled leather. For the first time in hundreds of years, your words and your tone cut right through him.

His own soulmate didn’t even want him, couldn’t stand him, did not want to be near him.

Feared him.

Just like everyone else.

For all your willpower and resilience (for he would at least give you credit for enduring so much; few in this world could say such a thing), you were just like everyone else. Stones would have been less effective than your terrified expression.

You were nothing more than a hindrance. A ball and chain that existed solely to remind him of how inescapable the stars above truly were. Omega had been doing him a service, being as efficient as necessary, to get you out of the way. He had greater tasks ahead than to deal with you .

The lies did not soothe him as they used to. He wasn’t sure what he hated more: you or that the world treated you much the same as it did him.

Beautiful things came from suffering, he mused as he cleaned your arm and bandaged it on autopilot. His experiments advanced Snezhnaya far beyond the other nations in both military and civilian technology; your music brought raw passion and emotion to those who otherwise might feel nothing.

He stepped back from you and raised a hand to his lips. Bringing you with him felt wrong now as he considered his options. A caged bird would not sing and he swallowed the selfish urge to keep you to himself, keep your music to himself. It was evident already that his presence, especially alone, would potentially do more harm than good.

But leaving you behind would be negligent with Omega still here, finishing out the tasks given to him.

“Still weighing your options and deciding which will have the best possible outcome, Prime?”

Dottore slowly raised his head, garnet eyes falling on the figure in the door. A reflection of himself, made of leyline energy and machinery, stood with its arms behind its back, shoulders straight, arrogant in its gait as it crossed the threshold.

The Segment’s voice was cold, taunting. “I told you I could do more with her than you ever could.”

Something inside Dottore snapped and he was across the room in an instant, his hand tight around Omega’s throat. The action would do little, for the Segment didn’t need to absorb oxygen, but Dottore lifted him just enough to bring the other’s feet off of the ground. Omega grinned, the same wide smile reserved for only the most intriguing instances, the same grin he gave you as time wore on in the dream.

“Always observing rather than acting, as though that would have saved anyone,” Omega hissed. “I lost her too. Or have you forgotten that more of us than just you remember that day?”

The selfishness that took root in him was only heightened by the inability to save her, by the accidental snapping of her hyoid bone when he tried to slow the bleeding. All he’d wanted was to keep the one person who believed in him alive and—

Dottore let go of Omega’s throat, shifted his weight, and sent the Segment tumbling back through the door with a push-kick to the chest. Omega’s laugh bounced off the metal walls in tinny echoes as Prime strode forward. He needed the Segment to finish the task on schedule, which couldn’t be done if he damaged the Segment too much beyond a self-repair capacity.

The Segment stood and brushed himself off, unaffected by the kick.

Omega was the last Segment, the closest to his current personage, the perfect specimen. But he was closer to Sohreh’s loss than he, Zandik, was. Prime had the benefit of time and distance: the beauty of hindsight was always its startling clarity . He had hypothesized that a Segment in the later part of his life would have been able to shed that selfishness at long last. This experiment, however, was far from unbiased and instead proved to be insightful in other ways.

After all, he, Zandik, the Prime Segment of himself, was the one who removed the necessary distance and time that Omega would have needed by creating him to begin with. His actions required a solution only he could provide.

Omega, in time, could overcome everything, as he had. Zandik’s own existence proved his own hypothesis correct once. After all, he already overcame all of this, was able to come to terms with his choices and accept them and the consequences they brought with them.

Killing his own Segment would do nothing but stifle potential and never offer you, his soulmate, a chance at closure.

You deserved that, at the very least.

You deserved so much more than him.

“You hurt her. Just like I hurt Sohreh,” Dottore’s words were controlled, but only just. Omega was already under his skin and the Segment didn’t need more goading. “Worse, even.”

Death had been a mercy for Sohreh.

“I freed her of the confines of her life here, where she must hold herself back for the sake of others.”

“You fed her lies and a false life.”

“As if you wouldn’t do the same to keep her from seeing your true self. A monster is still a monster, no matter how finely you dress and no matter how polite you act.”

Dottore resisted the urge to summon his claymore and silence Omega, resources and time wasted. Omega didn’t even move as his master closed the distance again, this time laughing joyfully as Prime pulled away the mask and faceplate, exposing the Ruin Core and the tangles of wires for the optical sockets. Both hands then grasped the Segment’s head, and Dottore twisted a finger around the love lock and pulled in the process. In true selfishness, he only ever loved himself, something only noticeable if one found the other lock and noticed how it always curved around his crystal earring on every Segment. Leyline energy to preserve memories and experiences, pulled from the roots of Irminsul.

This close, he could access the Segment’s neutral network by mental connection alone through the shared Akasha network he constructed using those crystals.

“You and I are almost exactly the same,” Omega said softly, his words vicious. “Unlike you, I’m not afraid to explore something, even if it is a useless reminder of the Divinity that has wronged us at every turn. You can’t tell me you were never tempted to push the boundary further in every dream. After all, you wanted to kill her once upon a time.”

Dottore couldn’t fathom that now, not after meeting you, after feeling more alive now than he had in centuries because of your music, your presence. His bones ached in a way he had never felt before but it was his experience to explore with you, not Omega’s.

If anyone had been robbed, it was him. No, you . You were robbed.

Archons and Celestia be damned, you deserved better than him.

“You might be the accepted monster but I am better than you in so many ways. Despite your augmentations and longevity, it stands to reason that I am far more worthy of your Vision, of her , than you will ever be.”

“You want what I have?” Dottore growled, the dam inside him finally breaking as his rage and agony seared his veins. “Here, take it, have it all! See what you’ve broken this time!”

The rush of his own blood was deafening in his ears as he flooded the system. Memories upon memories of dreams, of that night he first laid eyes on her in the theatre and the way his heart swelled at her passion, of her determination afterward, of her laugh, her smile, the peace she brought to his mind when his Perspectives conflicted…

Guilt washed over him, ran through his fingers and into the leyline circuits, followed by the frustration and agony of seeing Omega wreck everything before it could begin, the fear that gripped him as he realized what her presence now might result in, the uncertainty of what would become of her, because of him…

Omega’s Ruin Core spun faster, clicking as its processes picked up in an attempt to accept and understand the data. Dottore severed the connection abruptly, pulling away. Omega, overloaded, folded easily, his knees buckling as his body fell limp in response as he titled his head up at his creator, grimacing.

“Maybe in time you’ll understand,” Dottore said through gritted teeth. “Hope is a thing with wings, Omega, and you clipped hers before she could fly.”

He left his Segment where it fell, like a toy abandoned, and returned to the figure in the office. Your face was closer to peace, perhaps too close for comfort, but you were breathing evenly. A good sign.

Dottore gathered you in his arms, ignoring the squeeze of his heart when your head rolled and rested against his chest, and fell into the veins of the world once more.

#dottore #il dottore #il dottore x reader #dottore x reader #dottore x female reader #il dottore x female reader #genshin impact reader insert #soulmate au

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bubblefina · 2 years ago

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No Puppet Strings Attached 7 [finale]

Summary: When Katsuragi brings a puppet back to Tatarasuna, saying that he found him wandering the shores, the village and blade smiths took him in as their own. Something about the puppet struck a young girl's heart. Despite him not having a heart of his own, the puppet felt something that would seem to be impossible for someone like him to feel.

Pairings: Scaramouche x f!reader

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

How much time has passed? She didn’t know. Confined into one place for such a long time, it became hard to tell when the sun rose and set.

A decade could have passed, and she could have thought it was just one long week.

Time is different now. Not having stepped outside since her capture. Dottore said it had been almost 2 centuries since that day, but she refused to believe it.

150 years spent confined in the laboratory and the cell she called her bedroom. Would it be appropriate for her to start drawing lines on the walls, to count how much time she spent there?

It was no use, she did not know when the day began and ended. Not even he would tell her, for unknown reasons.

For all she knew, he could be lying about how long she had been there. Her mind wasn’t strong enough to fight him anymore. She gave into whatever sick games he played with her.

Every few years or so, he’d bring in a new test subject. They ranged from young to old, but no matter the age, all looked terrified. They should be.

Dottore, sickest man she ever met. He’d taunt her with his words. Telling her stories of how Tatarasuna was but an abandoned wasteland, no one dared stepped foot in the vicinity, they were afraid to bear the wrath of Orobashi.

Tales of those being plagued with Tataragami were seen as a legend. He wanted to hurt her, but he couldn’t. No tears fell, no anger flooded her veins, she was empty.

To him, she became less and less useful by the day. No matter how hard he poked a syringe into her skin, she didn’t flinch, if he shined a light into her eyes, she didn’t try to close them. No amount of crude experiments would phase her.

He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that she became so compliant with his orders. Truly, he wished for the time where she would fight against him, not wanting to lay on the laboratory table. He missed the chase, it was exciting to him. A hunter trying to catch his prey, it flooded his body with more dopamine he could imagine.

It was years of acting like this until one fateful day. She laid on the table as always, as he inserted a needle into one of her veins. A material began to move its way down the IV bag, she of course didn’t know what it was.

“You would not believe who I found bowing to the Tsaritsa yesterday.” Dottore said, clicking some of his test tubes.

Y/n just hummed a response.

“It's been some time since I’ve seen him last, but it seems that he’s joined the ranks as a Harbinger. The 6th.”

Still no response from her, Dottore smiled to himself.

“Do you remember him? Your lover from afar, Kabukimono.”

Her eyes widened for a moment, and her heart pounded. No denying it now, the heart monitor he had set up for her showed it.

“Ahaha, so you do?” He walks close to her, setting down a few vials of potions and whatnot.

“You’re lying, you always are.” She replied, her voice dry from not talking for so long.

“Oh little dove, when have I ever lied to you, I could recognize him easily. Short Indigo hair, same colored eyes with red in the corners. He dresses a bit differently now, attitude shifted as well.”

“You’re not going to get a reaction out of me.”

“Hmm, tell you what. I’ll bring him in tomorrow. He’s meeting with Pierro as we speak, getting to know the other members. So I'll have to show him around the laboratory and my dearest test subjects.”

“Do what you like, I don’t care.”

“As you wish, little dove.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

When tomorrow had arrived, Dottore escorted y/n to a room she had never been to before. There were multiple prison-like cells in the room. Many other subjects were already behind bars, tied up.

He did the same to her. Putting her all the way back in the shadows, handcuffing her wrists with the chained cuffs that laid on the floor. He also gagged her, for what he called “safety measures.”

It felt like hours before anything happened. The other “prisoners” kept quiet, but they weren't gagged like her, which she found weird. She almost fell asleep until she heard loud footsteps and voices coming down the stone stairs.

“This is a room which I use only for special occasions, as you will see it is occupied to the brim. Only for you, Balladeer.”

That was Dottore, and he was obviously talking to someone. Someone that was supposedly Kabukimono.

“Tch, I have no need to see your lowly test subjects.”

There was a familiar tone in that voice. The manner of speaking itself was…so rude. She couldn’t believe it at first, but when they finally emerged from the stairs, her heart dropped.

It was him, he was here. After so many years he was right across the room. Y/n was at the very end, blood rushing throughout her body. She hadn’t felt this much emotion in so long.

The chains that bound her began to shake as she tried to release herself from her confines. Dottore heard them loud and clear, smiling even harder.

After a painfully long walk down the prison hall, both of them finally made it to her cell. She could see him perfectly clear. He looked as beautiful as the day she last saw him…but there was something different about him. He looked…angry. He could only see the outline of her body, her face hidden by the shadows of the cell.

Even though she was gagged, she tried to talk, but it only came out as mumbles. He stared down in more disgust, which broke her heart. The Kabukimono she knew always looked at her with love, even if it wasn’t her, the people he interacted with he was always kind to.

Just who was this man?

It seemed as though Dottore read her mind.

“Do remind me, what is your name, Balladeer?”

“Scaramouche, just call me Scaramouche.” he says, turning his back and leaving.

Much to her heartbreak, y/n continued to shake the chains around her, crying even harder. Dottores plan had worked, he finally cracked her once more.

“Well then, Scaramouche, shall we explore another area? I’d hate to leave you here surrounded by these people.”

“I wouldn’t call them people, they’re filthy insects to me.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

The next few days were Dottores favorite to witness. Countless hours of y/n begging him to see the man known as “Scaramouche”.

“Oh little dove, don’t you see. Kabukimono doesn’t exist anymore. You don’t think you’re the only one who’s been through so much torment the past century, right?”

“What are you talking about?”

“The poor puppet has been through hell and back too. Being betrayed by so many people, I doubt he’d want to see you again.”

“He’ll understand if he sees me. I’ll tell him what really happened, what you did to me and Niwa-”

Dottore slapped her in the face before she could continue.

“I brought him here as a little treat for you, since you’ve been with me the longest. Don’t think you have a right to ask for what you want all of a sudden.”

She stood there in silence, hand to her cheek that was burning. Dottore sighed, removing her hand and placing it with his own.

“Look what you made me do, I told you before not to get me angry,” He noticed little pearls of tears forming at the edge of her eyes, “Don’t cry now, everything will be alright.”

She stared into his eyes with a dull feeling, or at least that's what he thought. She may have been compliant in that moment, but deep in her heart, she had a new found motivation to escape, and reunite with her love.

And she was going to do anything to make it out.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

For nights on end she’d lay on the cold bed in her room. She couldn’t sleep, instead she would have her hands clasped to her chest, praying to whatever archon she could to give her the strength to leave.

As a Inazuma native, she should have called for the Raiden Shogun, for her almighty to strike down this fortress and rescue her after being kept prisoner for so long. But she didn’t.

The almighty shogun did not offer assistance to Tatarasuna when it was in need, so why bother trying to ask for help now.

During the night, it was colder than usual. Chilling to the bone. It didn’t help that the tattered robes that Dottore had provided were so thin. Perhaps it was winter outside, and that's why everything felt so cold.

It was almost unbearable, making her limbs shake as she held herself to keep warm. Falling asleep wasn’t an option, how could someone possibly rest if there was a possibility that they couldn’t wake up.

No, that wouldn’t happen. She will not die in this prison, she will make it out, and she will regain control of her life.

In the midst of her thoughts, she saw something sparkle from across the room. It was odd, nothing that could emit that kind of light would ever find its way into her room.

She crawled over towards it and picked it up. It was sitting on a bed of dust, which she wiped off. A silver border with a bright blue gem in the middle. A white snowflake was printed on top.

She had heard of this before, a vision. Bestowed on those who were considered worthy by Celestia. Had the gods finally acknowledged her? Had they taken pity on what she suffered through.

A dry smile appeared on her face. This was just the sign that she needed, she will make it out of here, and now she has the power to do so.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/n was sitting in her bath, today was the day that she would make her attempt at escaping. She observed the room around her. The pipes on the walls were full of water that ran through the faucet and into the bath.

After dressing in her robes again, she turned the faucet of the bath on again. Letting it overflow and spill onto the floor a substantial amount. Turning the faucet all the way until it became stuck and the water continued to rush.

Some of the water began to spill out of the doorway, which caught the eye of Dottore. Who could possibly ignore the sound of water dripping?

Bursting the door open, he walked in and asked what she was doing. She faked concern, running up to him, holding her robe close to her.

“The faucet, I tried turning it off but it wouldn’t budge. The water is getting everywhere-”

Dottore dismissed her, walking towards the bath. He began to attempt closing the faucet, clearly ignoring the girl. She patted the cryo vision that was hidden under her robes.

It was now or never.

Slow but swift movements through the now flooding room. Her heart beat increased the closer she got to him. If she succeeded, she would be a free woman, but if she failed she would succumb to the worst punishment known to man. Put under constant surveillance, once again her mind would break.

Her fists tightened, glowing a bright blue. Concentrating her hardest, she focused on the water. Dottores' legs were submerged up to his knees. Little by little small crystals of ice started to grow. It wasn’t fast enough, he would fix the faucet quicker than she could grow the ice.

She grit her teeth and focused harder. Cryo infused with the water began to accelerate. Maybe it was the archons protecting her, but he did not seem to notice the cold growing on his lower half.

Large chunks of ice had already swallowed his legs by the time he had noticed. He slowly craned his neck to look at y/n. She stared back at him with the same intensity.

“What. Are. You. Doing?” He asked through gritted teeth.

“I’m doing what I've wanted to do for so long.” She began to walk closer, slowly.

Only his lower half was rendered immobile, but his arms were still free. Once she was in arms length, he tried to reach for her, but she was quick to dodge it. She grabbed a sharp knife from the belt he had around his waist and ran towards the pipes on the walls, they were still running with water.

Using all of her strength, she punctured the pipe with the knife multiple times, creating a big enough hole, ducking when the water began to rush out. It hit Dottore directly, and wouldn’t stop.

Concentrating once more, she held her hands out in front of her. Cryo shooting out, freezing Dottore entirely. She turned to the pipe and froze it as well.

Even if he was frozen, she knew that his eyes were following her as she ran out of the room. The laboratory began to flood, so she had to make a quick escape.

Running through the lab, she grabbed a cloak that hung on the wall. Fastening it around her, putting the hood on. She ran up the stairs, going through every door she found. It felt like she was going in circles, but her adrenaline kept her going.

After her aching feet found one last door, it was locked. The lock itself looked old, it wouldn’t be hard to bust it down with something heavy. She did exactly that, hitting it with a stone multiple times before it cracked open.

Swinging the door open, she was welcomed with a snow storm. It wasn’t the ideal weather that she wanted, but it was the first time she had been outside in centuries. Placing a foot onto the cold snow, she flinched, but it had to be done.

Holding the cloak close to her, she began to run. She didn’t know which way was which, but she wanted to be as far away as possible. The snow was heavy enough to cover her tracks, and she didn’t know if she should be thankful for that.

If she dared cry right now, her tears would freeze to her face, but she didn’t care. She was free, she could see the sky, she could feel the wind. Her feet were touching something other than cold tile and concrete.

She kept running, and she didn’t stop. Not until there was a large enough distance in between her and the laboratory.

Her legs felt heavy after a while, causing her to slow down. She knelt on the ground, craning her head up to the sky.

“Almighty…shogun, please give me strength.” She whispered.

Forcing herself to crawl on her knees until she reached a place she could call shelter. However her eyes felt heavy. She hadn’t moved this much in so long, everything felt heavy and numb.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

It felt hard to open her eyes. She didn’t remember when she closed them, but it felt like it had been hours.

That couldn’t be possible, she wouldn’t be alive if she fell asleep in the snow. Opening her eyes, she sat up and observed her surroundings. A rag that was on her forehead fell onto her lap.

She was in a room, a fire burning in one corner. She was still dressed in the same robes she escaped in. A warm blanket was placed on her, fluffy pillows to her back.

Did Dottore find her again? No, impossible. He would have her killed or locked up. She found her way to her feet and attempted to walk to the door, but her vision became dizzy, causing her to fall to her knees.

Alerted by the noise, someone opened the door. It was a woman that she didn’t recognize. She had short ginger hair, bright blue eyes. She looked concerned as she bent down to place her hand on y/n’s forehead.

“Honey, she’s awake!” she exclaimed.

A man now walked into the room, who y/n put together to be the woman's husband.

“Where-” y/n spoke, but she could barely put together the words.

“It’s alright sweety,” the woman helped her back onto her feet, “you have a fever so I’m not expecting you to be completely right in the head.”

After sitting back down on the bed, the woman pulled a chair and sat across from her.

“Me and my husband found you passed out in the snow while we were hunting snow foxes. We didn’t expect anyone to be in that area during such a wild storm, so we took you in.”

“How long…how long have I been out?” y/n began to cough, her throat felt so dry.

The woman poured out a glass of water from the pitcher on the small dresser next to her, handing it to y/n.

“We found you around a week ago. You’ve been in and out of sleep. We did our best to make sure you were drinking enough water since you couldn’t eat.”

“A week?” her heart sped up, “I’ve been out for a week?”

“Your fever has gotten better since we found you. Before it was hot to the touch, but now it looks like you’re doing better.”

“Thank you for taking care of me…” her bottom lip began to quiver.

She didn’t think that she’d experience freedom after so long. Dying in that snow storm felt more likely, but here she is. She’s talking with people who aren’t other test subjects, or Dottore. She’s in a warm room with people who cared for her even though they didn’t know her.

A few tears fell down into the cup of water.

“Are you alright?” the woman asked.

Y/n laughed, wiping her face, “I am. I’m better than okay, thank you.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

After the fever subsided a few days later, y/n finally got to take a bath that she enjoyed. One with soap and shampoo, she was finally able to wipe off the dirt and grime that she carried with her all those years. Best of all, the bath was warm, which made her feel safe.

After stepping out, she stared at herself in the mirror. This was not the girl that she knew back in Inazuma. She was more thin, scars covered different parts of her body, not to mention the bruises. Her hair was more brittle than it had been, and most of all she looked tired. Eye bags settling on the bottoms of her eyes.

Despite all of this, she still smiled. She had control over her fate now, no longer bound to Dottore.

According to Liliana, the woman with the ginger hair, their home was in the north of Snezhnaya, just about a day or two travel wise from the capital. Y/n wanted to leave as soon as possible, she wanted to know what came of her home, and to see if there was anything left.

That was her plan, but it changed once Liliana told her that the Fatui would be holding a parade to welcome the newest harbinger in the capital square. It striked her interest, she could finally see Kabuki- no…he went by Scaramouche now.

This time she won't be shrouded by darkness, he could see her face, he could see that it was her and he could come back to Inazuma with her.

After the blizzard subsided, Liliana and her husband accompanied her to the capital. The people of Snezhnaya were kind and hospitable, especially on the days of an event such as this.

The Fatui were the pride and joy of the nation, so welcoming a new harbinger was something to rejoice about. There were taverns full of people that were drinking, the streets flooded with multiple balloons and streamers. Even though the snowfall was light, it was still enough to make y/n shiver.

She was taking a big risk walking about in the open. Hoping that the cloak would hide enough of her face, she ventured onward.

When the parade started, she tried to get into the front as much as possible. Multiple parade floats started to move by, each showcasing a mural of a Fatui Harbinger, along with the harbinger themselves sitting down on a grand chair.

6th, the one she was looking for was the 6th. With each passing parade float, she craned her neck to see him. Eventually she did, there he was, sitting on his chair. His face rested on his hand as he looked uninterested in whatever the crowd was cheering for.

“Kabukimono!” She yelled, but her shouts were drowned out by the voices of the other people in the crowd. Yet, she kept trying, trying to get his attention.

If he could just look her way, if he could look her in the face…

His parade went by, but she was still determined to get his attention. Squeezing through the crowd of people, she pushed her way and tried to keep up with the float, simultaneously shouting his name, but he still didn’t hear her.

Eventually the crowd became too much, and they stopped walking. Staring at the back of the float before it was no longer there, she slowly began to head back to the tavern where Liliana and her husband were.

“You look sad dear, what's wrong?” she asks, noticing how y/n was just staring at the food in front of her.

“It’s not much. I came here to see the float, and I did. Now I just need to travel back to my home.”

“You’re thinking of leaving already” Liliana now looked sad too, she had grown used to having y/n around.

“I’ve been here too long, It’s about time that I return to my home, I haven’t seen it in a long time.”

“It will be a far travel from Snezhnaya to Inazuma,” she rustled through some things in her bag and placed a small pouch in y/n’s hand, “I know it’s not much, but it will last you a good time until you settle in some place comfortable.”

Opening the bag, she was greeted with the golden shine of multiple mora coins.

“I- thank you, I wasn’t expecting this…”

“It’s not worry dear, it wouldn’t be right to have you go out without any money. I wouldn’t want you to get lost in the snow and get another fever again.”

After talking for a few more hours, y/n said her goodbyes to Liliana and her husband. The parade festivities were still on going when she was walking out of the capital. People laughing and dancing, it reminds her of her village.

‘Returning to my home’ was that just an excuse? She didn’t have a home to return to. Dottore wasn’t lying when he said that Tatarasuna had been wiped clean. Niwa was dead, Katsuragi was dead, everyone that she knew was dead.

The island is still plagued with the residue of the tatragami, so even if she were to return, it would be a dangerous place to stay.

Home…is there a place that she could even consider going. For a moment, she thought that if Kabuki- no…Scaramouche. For a moment she thought that if Scaramouche had noticed her, she would be able to call him her home, since he is the last remaining person of the village along with her.

Reality has different plans, it’s just simply not meant to be, at least not anymore. She spent centuries locked with Dottore, and as much as it pains her to let go of Scaramouche, she had to. She needs to move on, to get the life she always deserved.

And that’s exactly what she did. She traveled down south to Sumeru and found shelter in Vimara village. The locals there accepted her very quickly, and before she knew it, she had found a new place to call home.

Her immortality was put into question multiple times, seeing as how she wasn’t aging at all, but she brushed it aside. Joking that she may have been blessed by Celestia at some point, to be able to live this long.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Hundreds of more years passed, and y/n was still as chipper as ever. Helping around the village in any way she could, taking care of the children whenever their parents were busy.

“Oh dear…” One of the elders fumbled about, rummaging through boxes.

“What’s wrong, Jehiet?” y/n asks, noticing her frustration.

“It seems that I have run out of potatoes and spices for our dinner tonight. The sun is setting soon.”

“Oh, well I’m sure I can go to the city and get some groceries for you.”

“Dear child! I couldn’t possibly let you go out this late, especially alone at that.”

“C’mon Jehiet, what’s the worst that can happen? I’ll be back before you know it, promise.”

After a few more times going back and forth, y/n was able to start adventuring to the city. The walk wasn’t too far, but it required a lot of navigating through the forest and greenlands, but as long as you follow the path you shouldn’t get lost.

Walking at night was peaceful. Watching the animals start to slumber, and the crickets play their song. From a distance, y/n could already see the lights of Sumeru city. It truly was beautiful at night.

Going to Lambads tavern was the best bet. It was already too late to do any cooking, so bringing back food for Jehiet was the best bet, along with the ingredients that she needed.

The tavern wasn’t as packed as it would be during the day, there were just a few people left. One of the tables was full, 4 people including a flying little white fairy thing.

“Hey y/n, what can I get for you?” Lambda asks.

“Can I sneak some of your lambda fish rolls, along with 3 jars of spice?”

“Of course, how many fish rolls do you need?”

“Only 3 for tonight.”

“That will be 2,880 mora.”

After packing the containers of fish rolls into one bag, and the jars of spices into another, she took one more glance at the table full of people. One of them had blonde hair, she looked like she was in a tense discussion with the other two. The floating white fairy took notice of the staring, but y/n was quick to divert her attention and walk away. She only needed to buy some potatoes from the vendor and then she could go back home.

While walking in the city, she couldn’t help but feel anxious. It’s as if someone were watching her, someone with malicious intent. She bought the potatoes in a hurry and left as soon as possible.

Going to the city was never this nerve wrecking, so why tonight of all days. Could it be him…? No, that would be impossible, Sumeru is supposed to be a safe space. Despite her saying that, she was still weary of her surroundings as she returned home to Vimara village.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Her feelings of anxiety seemed to be true when the city had been run rampant over the course of the next few weeks. The Akademiya tried to control things, but word had still gotten out.

Dottore of the fatui harbingers worked together with the sages of the Akademiya to build a fake god to replace Lesser Lord Kusanali. Hearing his name made y/n drop everything in her hands, which caused quite the ruckus. She excused herself to catch her breath.

She ran to a nearby river to compose herself, unaware that she had begun to cry during her escape. Looking at her reflection, her nose began to scrunch as she wallowed. Her anxiety proved right, someone really was watching her, it was Dottore.

His plans had been stopped in time before anything could fully go into the works. Putting a person inside the body of a self created god…almost like a puppet. How cruel of a fate would that be.

It had been weeks since she stepped foot into the city, she wanted to make sure that all traces of him were gone before she could go out again. Could he truly still hurt her even after all these years? Since he was a harbinger, he probably could.

One day, lost in thought while she was cleaning, one of the elders of the village interrupted her, telling her that there was someone here to see her.

Y/n’s heart sped up, but she shook out the thoughts that were clouding her head.

“Who is it?” she asks.

“They didn’t say, but it's a group of 3. The one asking for you seems rather…desperate to meet with you.”

Y/n took a deep breath, making sure that she had her cryo vision on her waist before she followed the elder to the place where he had left the 3 visitors.

The closer she got, the clearer she could see who it was. It was him…

She stopped walking before she could meet him face to face. Tears began to crowd her eyes.

“Is that her?” there was the floating white fairy, along with the blonde haired traveler.

“Y/n, why did you stop walking?” the elder asks.

There was silence, she couldn’t speak. Instead she clasped her hand over her mouth as the reality set in.

“It is you…” he said, slowly walking towards her.

Y/n now began to walk towards him too. It's as if there was a magnet pulling both of them together.

When they were finally in close proximity, all they could do was look at each other. She reached a hand out to move the hair out of his eyes. They were still the same, she then reached to graze over his cheek. He gently put his hand over hers.

“Kabukimono…?” she whispered.

Hearing her call him made him sigh with relief.

“Yes, yes! It’s me.” He pulled her in for a hug, and she returned the favor. Embracing each other after so many centuries, the timing felt so right.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him be this…expressive.” The white fairy said.

“He just found the love of his life again, Paimon. It’s a good time to be expressive.” the traveler said.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

That night, the village was rather joyous. A feast was spread out, which Paimon, the white fairy, took a great liking to. Y/n and Scaramouche sat next to each other and talked through the whole night.

“I hope you know that I didn’t leave you, on purpose that is.” she whispered, clenching the cup of zaytun peach juice in her hand.

“For a while I used to think that you did. It wasn’t until a few days ago that I learned that wasn’t the case.”

“What happened a few days ago?”

Scaramouche stared into the sky, his eyes following the twinkling of the stars. He took a deep breath before he looked down at his own reflection in his drink.

“The dendro archon allowed me to visit Irminsul, along with the traveler and Paimon. There I was able to witness everything that happened, what really happened. Not the version that Dottore told.”

He hesitated to make eye contact, but eventually he looked at her with pity.

“I'm sorry that you had to go through what you did. That I wasn’t able to help you when you needed it, that I couldn’t notice you in the crowd during the Fatui parade…”

“You saw all of that?”

Scaramouche nodded, “every single thing that Dottore did to you,” he began to clench his fist, “I will make him pay for laying his hands on you.”

“No,” she put his hand over his, “There is no need for that. You’re with me again, I don’t ever want you to go back.”

“Then I vow to keep you safe, and now I actually have the power to keep my word.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

She rests her head on his shoulder, enjoying the laughter that echoed through the village. Even though it wasn’t exactly the same, it felt like how it was in Tatarasuna. Both of them were finally home.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

After a gracious rejoice, Scaramouche took y/n back to Sumeru city to meet with the Dendro archon. With her blessing and the power of Irminsul, both of them would be able to live their lives normally. He would turn into a mortal, as would she.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asks him, both of their hands holding onto each other.

“I’ve lived too many years fighting for the wrong thing, I don’t want to be taken advantage of like that again. All I want is to be with you.”

“It’s kind of shocking to hear him say these things…don’t you think?” Paimon asks.

“Not at all, she knew him before he was taken in by the Fatui. She’s the only one who’s able to see him past his facade of a Fatui Harbinger.” Nahida, the Dendro archon, now approached the pair.

Combining the power of the Dendro archon, and with the power of Irminsul, a green light began to grow between the pair. It circled around them until it broke apart into two, entering their hearts.

Both of them undoubtedly collapsed from the amount of energy and power that entered them. By the time they woke up, it had already been a few days.

Scaramouche took her hand in his, smiling to himself.

“Your hands feel warm.” She whispers, making eye contact with him which immediately makes her erupt into a fit of giggles.

“A different feeling from when they were cold.” he replies.

She takes her hand and places it on his chest, feeling his heartbeat, growing faster the longer it stays. She didn’t have any words, all she could do was smile as he did the same.

After so many centuries apart, they were finally together again. Misfortune after misfortune, and they were still able to be reunited. It took a miracle to get this far, but they did it.

They were finally home.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Taglist~

@louise-rosita-leroux

@mysticparadisecrusade

#genshin impact #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche imagine #scaramouche fanfiction #wanderer #wanderer x reader #wanderer fanfiction #fatui #harbinger

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