#ive had so many doctors doubt me over the past year that ive started to doubt myself and then when a flare happens and doctors dont believe

[hulahoopsoupgroup]

ive ranted about this to my friend like 3 times this week but ill rant again because im just so fed up and angry.

21st century american capitalism is so dismal. we put everything behind a paywall. you cant exist without paying money and you cant go anywhere or do anything without paying.

you have to pay to be born and you have to pay to survive. if you cant pay to survive, you have to pay to die. theres no escaping it.

most jobs in the usa require a college degree, but a lot of people cant afford to go to college. its honestly infuriating that people cant get the jobs they want because the education is so expensive. why do i have to pay tens of thousands of dollars to the government so i can get a job that will probably only barely keep me afloat in todays economy?

why do we pay writers and artists so little when they are one of the most vital parts of society. where would we be without the painters and authors who create beautiful scenes and impactful stories?

weve overcomplicated society so much that you have to jump through so many financial hoops to just, exist. you have to have insurance for everything. everything costs so much. why do i have to pay over 2 dollars for a bottle of water at work? why are the bags of candy 5 dollars?

all of this just makes everyone miserable, no doubt. i had a conversation with 5 other people and all of us have had severe depression/anxiety, had to be medicated, or needed a lot of therapy/not been able to afford it. and im not stigmatizing therapy in any way. if i could afford it, i would absolutely go, but my job doesnt pay much, so even one session would set me back so far regarding money.

the fact that its so normal for 11-13 year olds to start experiencing severe depression is so concerning. its almost like a rite of passage. ask anyone in gen z if they were depressed in middle school and theyll probably say "yeah." thats concerning.

young people's suicide rates have risen over 50% in the past 10 years. 42% of gen z considered suicide in 2021-22. the fact that i know 3 or 4 people (myself included) who have attempted suicide before age 16 or 17 is insane.

we're so depressed about the future and reasonably so. its so bleak. the world is burning, people are killing each other over such trivial things, nobody listens to each other, and the government is just going insane. how badly do you have to screw up to make a 13 year old want to kill themself because they feel like the future is so bleak?

how badly do you have to screw up to prevent so many people from going to college and getting jobs to support themselves?

how badly do you have to screw up to bar people from something as simple as going to the doctor and earning a basic living wage?

and to think that there are still people who think this is fine. there are some people who sit back and say this all makes sense, that it makes sense that you have to pay thousands of dollars for a few stitches in your hand if you have a cooking accident, that you have to insure every last bit of your life, that people killing each other over ideological differences is natural and cant be helped.

america needs to wake the fuck up and get shit done. its destroying its own future. its making the future generation kill itself because of how miserable it is. fucking do better and maybe you wouldnt burn to the ground in a dumpster fire

[decrepithag]

Someone, about me being really ill last year: So are you like...okay now? You’re at school more now so are you like, fine?? Like you found out what was wrong and its got treated and now you’re good?

Me: Oh, no I’m actually in the process of being tested for crohn’s disease :)

Them: Oh crohn’s isn’t even that bad. You just can’t eat seeds or drink wine or sometimes eat red meat.

Me, no longer being able to eat red meat, nuts, peaches, broccoli (aka my favourite food), cauliflower, raw carrots, onion, anything with a lot of fibre, too much gluten at once, tomatoes, anything slightly spicy, corn, potato skins, garlic, pop/soda/anything carbonated or anything oily/fried without having extreme abdominal pain for many hours after I eat and now having anxiety surrounding eating because I don’t know what will trigger me and cause my to have a horrible flare up and shit blood so I barely eat which is causing me to lose a lot of weight, not having enough spoons to properly deal with this person: haha yeah it sucks :’)

[jackrrabbit]

Adversary /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You make a deal with the devil to save your life, but it turns out Overhaul’s not interested in your soul.

A/N: Remember when I said I was going to do a fantasy collab and then dipped for like 9 months? Hahaha…anyway…

@pleasantanathema @ present-mel @shadowworks—if it’s not too late, here’s my part for the Pleasant & Strider Fantasy AU Writing Collab from a million years ago. Go check out the masterlist and gorge yourself on these amazing pieces!!

Tags/Warnings: dubcon, demon fuckery & occult things, big heresy/sacrilege/perversion of religion, sex in a church ft. Catholic sex guilt, other than that it’s not that bad lol, inexperienced reader, mild degradation, shameless camp and demon-fucking clichés, Overhaul calls you “little girl” 👉👈

He doesn’t look like a demon.

Not that you really know what demons are supposed to look like. But…red skin, right? Fangs and claws and swirling masses of bad energy. Maybe cloven hooves for feet. Yes, that’s the Disney version—but even if you didn’t expect a cartoon personification of evil, you didn’t expect this.

He looks like a doctor, you think. Lab coat hanging open, surgery mask pushed down under his jaw, stethoscope draped over his shoulders. No, he’s a little young to really look like a doctor…an intern, you amend, shifting back in your hospital bed. He looks like he fits right in here, not a hair out of place. Except for, you know, the polished black horns curling out of the sides of his skull.

Overhaul. It was written in the book. That’s the only thing you have to call him in your head.

He’s standing in the center of the sigil you drew at the foot of your bed before midnight, surveying the room critically without meeting your gaze. He looks annoyed—that’s not a good sign, is it?—but then again, of course he’s annoyed. You’d be annoyed too if you got summoned out of your cozy hell dimension in the middle of the night. According to the book, you’re lucky he even showed up…although ‘lucky’ isn’t really how you’d describe yourself most days.

“So,” Overhaul says after a long moment of silence in which you question every choice you’ve made in your relatively short life. “You’re dying.”

You nod.

“And you don’t want to be.”

You nod again, wondering if you’re supposed to be contributing more to this conversation. It’s a bit difficult when your mouth is so dry it feels like you’ve been eating dirt, but you suppose being in the presence of an unholy servant of Satan will do that to a person.

“Fine.” He sighs, frowns, and then finally lowers his gaze onto yours—and you shiver.

Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.

“Make me an offer,” Overhaul tells you, and through his open mouth you catch a flash of sharp white teeth.

Okay. Okay. The chirping of the heart monitor speeds up (as if it weren’t obvious enough that you’re terrified) and you fold your knees up to your chest and fidget with your ring and think. He’s giving you a chance to establish parameters. You’re supposed to start with his end of the deal, the thing you want from him. That’s what it said to do in the grimoire, aka the 19th century demonology volume your creepy cousin brought back from her pagan anthropology research trip in rural France. The one you keep hidden under your bed because your mother would burn it if she knew you were reading about summoning demons.

Offer nothing to a hell creature without first telling him your price. You know the words by heart, both the winding calligraphy of the original French from the grimoire and the rushed scrawl of the English translation your cousin left for you in sheets of lined paper layered between the pages of the book for you to read. Really, this is her fault. She was the one who slipped you the book, who told you that it worked, who snuck you the ingredients for the summoning. She was the one who left a bookmark at the chapter on this particular demon, one that specializes in ‘Contrat pour Remédier au Déséquilibre des Quatre Humeurs’, which she said meant a contract to cure any illness. Even his ‘name’ is translated in her hand, practically an afterthought in the margins of the page.

‘Le Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtit’— Overhaul?

You looked up the literal meaning of this phrase on your own. It did not reassure you.

“Girl.” His voice is cold, irate. Your eyes snap back up to his and it feels like that burning gaze is laser-beaming into your skull. “Do not test me. My time is limited…as is yours.”

You swallow. “How long do I have left?”

“Less than a single human year,” he tells you without a trace of sympathy. “Seven months, twelve days, three hours. Or so. You’ll be too exhausted to leave this bed in four months, and the pain will become intolerable in six… By the end, you’ll wish—“

“Stop,” you breathe out. The heart monitor is beeping wildly and you squeeze your knees into your chest, trying to calm down your breathing. “Stop, I—I want to live.”

“Of course you do.” Overhaul’s lip curls. “How very predictable.”

Be specific, you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the stifling disapproval from the man—the demon—in front of you. Something about him (maybe how clean-cut he looks, maybe the indisputable authority in his demeanor) makes you want to impress him. But you didn’t turn your back on your religion—you didn’t draw pagan symbols on the floor in chalk, fill silver cups with various questionable substances (including your own virgin blood), and turn the crucifix your mother hung over your bed upside-down so you could let a demon make you feel guilty for wanting to survive. “I want to be cured. I’m okay with whatever natural death I have instead when I’m older, I just don’t want to die of this illness. I want you to make me healthy.”

“Simple enough. What else?”

‘Simple’? Your heart surges with something you’ve felt very little of since your initial diagnosis—hope. “T-That’s it. Just the cure.”

Overhaul glares at you. “Humans… Every vice in the world available to you, and you limit yourselves to the basest priority of survival.”

“But you can do it? You can cure me?” you persist.

Overhaul steps forward (quiet, so quiet you wonder if he really moved) and holds a hand out to you past the foot of your bed—you hesitate, and a second later you can see the muscles in his hand flex, stretching the latex of his plastic gloves tight over his knuckles.

Just do it. You give him your hand. Carefully. Like you’re scared the contact will burn you. It doesn’t (although his skin feels warmer than yours), but after a moment his grip tightens, sliding down past your hand to circle the fragile bones of your wrist and squeeze.

“Ow?” You wince.

The demon’s eyes flicker closed for a second, lips moving silently like he’s talking to himself—and then he drops your hand unceremoniously back onto your lap. “You could be cured before the sun rises this morning. I doubt your stay in the hospital will extend past the end of the week.”

He sounds bored, voice as flat and passionless as it was earlier, but your heart is soaring. Cured. You’ve lived with this illness for so many years, you can’t remember the last time someone told you you could be cured. And getting out of the hospital that soon? You can just imagine taking down all the decorations from the walls of your room here and setting them up in your old bedroom at home. You could see friends on the weekend and not take an oxygen bag, you could get a job or—or apply to college, you could have a life—

“That is…assuming you have something to offer me in exchange for the cure.”

Your stomach drops. You’d almost forgotten about the other half of the deal.

“Don’t tell me I came all this way for nothing.” Overhaul steps back, and the orange light of the candles you set sends strange shadows over his arrogant face. The fires look brighter now, and you find yourself tracing the lines of those shining black horns. In an odd way, they look natural—so organically framing his temples that you can’t imagine him without them.

“N-No, of course not. I have some money—I mean, my mom has some, and I can get it for you…” Which is half the truth. If you know anything, it’s that your mother’s spent most of her savings on your treatment and care. You probably have more debt than you have money in the bank right now—you’d try to get rid of that, too, if you hadn’t read in the book how important it is to keep your request as simple and straightforward as possible.

…Although it’s apparently not enough. Overhaul’s eyes narrow, molten gold irises carved into slits. “Even if I had a use for human money, do you really believe your life is worth so little?”

“No—no,” you say quickly. “I just thought—in case you were interested—”

The air crackles with energy, the candle flames spark bright blood-red, and the hair on your arms stands straight up. “I am not.”

“Okay! I get it.” You wave your hands back and forth, pulling your IV line from side to side with the motion. The book was very clear about staying calm and rational while you work out the terms of the deal, but that’s easier said than done when you have a real live (live?) hell creature in front of you. You always knew this was going to be the hard part—all the stories say there’s only one thing that a demon would be interested in, and no matter how inviting the prospect of living past this illness is, you know you’d rather die than sell your immortal soul to the devil. “I’ll give you anything except my soul! And—and don’t hurt anyone I care about, or— just don’t hurt anyone, okay? Other than that, if there’s anything I can give you, I will.”

Overhaul’s lip curls, baring a thin strip of those unnaturally sharp canines. “And is your soul really so valuable?”

This throws you for a loop. Isn’t that the standard deal? A soul for a wish? That’s how it’s supposed to work—at least in this twisted version of reality where you can summon a demon to perform unholy miracles for you. But if you think about it, it doesn’t really make sense, does it? Why would your soul be valuable to him? You can’t form an argument, especially since you’re not willing to barter it away in the first place.

Your mouth is pursed open as you search for a response, but Overhaul doesn’t seem willing to wait. A gloved hand wraps its way around the railing at the side of your bed, and he leans in closer. “Little girl…what makes you think you possess anything I desire?”

Little girl. You’re not a little girl, you’re a grown woman—and yet there’s no untruth in the statement. In front of him you feel insignificant, immature, weak. You have nothing real to offer, and something tells you that you’re not going to get rid of the demon you summoned without a sacrifice you’re not willing to make.

You twist your ring around your finger—the nervous habit you haven’t bothered to break because you’ve always had more important things to worry about—and the glint of silver in the candlelight must catch Overhaul’s eye because before you even notice him moving, your delicate hand is trapped in his larger one to give him a better view of the tiny piece of jewelry. “What is this?”

“It’s—um, a ring. A purity ring.” Has he never seen one before? Well…actually, that makes sense.

Overhaul turns your hand over in his without touching the band of silver. He’s looking at it closely, inspecting the lovingly engraved cross in the design and the inscription on the other side. “Matthew 5:8,” he reads out.

“…Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” you recite cautiously. It feels wrong to speak the words in front of him, but somehow you can’t help yourself.

Overhaul’s hand doesn’t leave yours. “This ring is important to you.”

“It’s a symbol of a—a promise I made to God. To save myself for my future husband.”

“To ‘save yourself’? To save what?”

You can’t believe you’re explaining this to a literal demon. You close your eyes and inhale slowly and taste smoke. “My…virginity. It’s a promise that I won’t have sex until I enter into a biblical marriage.”

At this, Overhaul is quiet. You give him a moment to answer, half expecting him to question why you think God cares about your sexual status (honestly, you’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered this yourself), but he stays quiet until you peek up at him to try and gauge the look on his coldly handsome face.

He’s still staring at the ring. He hasn’t touched it—maybe he can’t, because of the cross?—and through the latex, his skin feels hotter than a human’s is supposed to be.

“Is there…” you start, but you trail off when you realize you have nothing to ask. You give a little tug to try and take your hand away and you’re surprised when your wrist actually slides out of his grip to fall back on the nest of sheets in your lap. You didn’t think he’d let you go so easily.

Overhaul turns his head to the side, eyes drilling into you so you feel like you should lower your gaze. The candlelight flickers in strange shadows over his horns. “This will do,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“In exchange for your cure.” The demon taps his own left ring finger, the place where the purity ring sits on your hand, and your heart soars. He actually wants that? It’s just a simple silver band, not worth much, but you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it has some special significance because of the religious connotation. Your mother will be angry you’ve lost it, but you’re happy to cope with that if it means living to actually get married!

“Yes!” you blurt out before he has a chance to rethink his offer. Sure, you’ll miss the purity ring—you’ve had it since you were a kid, after all—but there’s no question you’re getting the better end of this deal. At least in your opinion.

Something flashes through his yellow eyes, something you don’t even want to try and identify. “The contract, then.”

You barely have time to notice that his voice has gentled, that it’s practically silken in comparison to before, when the candlelight flickers again and suddenly the contract is everywhere. Everywhere. Writing appears on every surface in the room, covering the walls, stretching over the ceiling, coiling around the sides of the hospital equipment and decorating your bedsheets until you and Overhaul are the only untouched surfaces in sight. The characters are inscribed in red, dark red like—don’t think about that, you tell yourself squeamishly. You can make out some of the letters, even a word here or there—French, you recognize, mixed with what looks like Latin and interspersed with what you can only guess are runes.

“I can’t read this,” you tell him, fidgeting with your ring for what you now realize will be the last time.

“I only need your name,” he purrs, and then you feel a fragile weight in your hand: a feather, pearl-black and glossy and too large to belong to any bird you can think of, its angled tip glistening with wet ink. There’s an empty space in the writing before you, and Overhaul’s gloved hand comes to yours again to guide you into place.

This feels wrong…then again, of course it does. Even if you’re getting off relatively easy and just losing your ring rather than your soul, you’re still making a deal with a demon. You sign your name, forcing yourself to think about the future you have ahead of you rather than a disapproving white-bearded caricature of The Man Upstairs wagging his finger at you for haggling with a literal servant of Satan. People have done worse things to survive, haven’t they? It’s just a ring.

You set the feather down and Overhaul sighs, thick black eyelashes obscuring his intense gaze for a moment—and then the contract is gone, leaving your hospital room as blank and sterile as it’s supposed to be (well, aside from the candles and all the other ritual stuff you threw together to summon a demon in the first place).

“Are you going to cure—heal me now?” you ask.

“…Patience, little girl.” He’s pulling his glove off, peeling it down his fingers to bare the pale skin of his hand. You catch your breath and wonder what this is going to feel like, and then the tips of his fingers meet your cheek and—

you stop breathing.

It doesn’t hurt.

Or if it does, you don’t remember the pain a second later when breath floods back into your lungs. What you do feel is energy. Strength in your muscles, blood pumping through your veins, every inhale and exhale as light as a bird and freer. You feel healthy. You’re surprised you even remember what health feels like but you do: it’s like you’ve only been half alive, and now life is surging into you and through you and around you, bubbling up in your core like a spring overflowing. You blink rapidly, thinking you might cry from the sheer pleasure of it, but when you open your mouth it’s laughter that comes out. You’re healthy. You’re alive. You barely notice the IV line literally falling off of your skin because the hole where it entered your vein is sealed shut and healed perfectly.

No more needles. No more hospitals. Even without all the monitors beeping out your heart rate and measuring your vitals, there’s not a shred of doubt in your mind that you’re cured.

“Thank you!” you laugh, looking up at Overhaul and for the first time, not caring that he’s evil incarnate. “I feel—I’m okay! It worked!”

“Of course it did.” His expression is inscrutable, but he lets you have a few moments to enjoy your newfound health.

You roll your shoulders back, flex each muscle you can isolate one by one to test, make fists with your fingers and then run them over your hair, which is already thicker and shinier than it was a moment ago. Your body thrums with energy—you want to run, to feel the ground against your bare feet and the cold night air on your face, and you think you could do it! Your legs are already swinging over the side of your cot, ready to run barefoot out of the hospital if that’s what it takes, but before you can stand up Overhaul’s pushing you back down onto the bed.

“Have you forgotten your end of the bargain already?”

Honestly you did forget, but only for a second, only because you were so excited to just be outside again. “Oh, yeah. Of course.” Your hand goes to your left ring finger, ready to slip the ring off and hand it over, but Overhaul shakes his head.

“Not here.”

“What—?”

You’re falling. Your hospital room is disappearing, the image of your walls and your window and your bed disintegrating into yawning black, and you’re falling through it into nothing, into emptiness, and Overhaul’s still-bare hand in yours is the only anchor you have so you clutch onto it and squeeze your eyes shut. You want to scream—that’s the sane thing to do when you’re falling through miles and miles of empty space, right?—but when you open your throat the sound is swallowed up just like the light was…

Overhaul’s hand burns into yours, an improbable lifeline that you pull closer more out of terror than conscious thought. The slick, empty air rushes around you and you think I am going to die like this and then, incredibly, as soon as you’ve accepted your imminent demise, you feel your back mold onto a chilled, flat surface, vertebra by vertebra up to the back of your head, as if you’ve been lain down onto it.

Your heart thuds in your ears and you brace for an impact because your body hasn’t quite accepted yet that it’s not falling anymore—but at the same time, you know you’re lying down on something. You pry your fingers away from their vice-grip on Overhaul’s arm and feel around blindly for what’s underneath you, and when it seems reasonably tangible you let yourself open your eyes.

Way above, vaulted dozens of feet over your head, is a ceiling studded with gilt-edged frescoes and stained glass. It’s raining (even though it wasn’t in the hospital, you think) but through the massive panes of colored glass there’s enough oily blue light to make out that you’re in a church.

You’re in a church, with a demon. Isn’t that against the rules?

You sit up stiffly and look over at Overhaul, who’s standing at your side and looking down at you…which is how you realize the soft, cold surface you’ve been deposited onto is the blanket on top of the altar in the sanctuary. “Where...did you take me?”

“You should know this place.”

And you do, when you look around. It’s empty now and you’ve never been here at night, but this is a church your mother would bring you to when you were little, back before the disease got so bad you couldn’t risk traveling to it anymore. This is where you took your purity vow…the ring feels heavy on your hand. “Why—why—“

“I can’t stand human hospitals. Filthy places… How that reek of illness and death doesn’t bother your kind, I’ll never understand.” Overhaul pulls his latex glove back on. He’s dressed differently now, no longer impersonating a doctor—black shirt, black pants, and a…bird mask in red leather and gold. So are you, as a matter of fact. Instead of your hospital gown, you’re in a gauzy white dress that’s already been pushed up to pool around the tops of your thighs.

The slip is too thin for the cold, and you can feel your nipples standing up under the cloth so you fold your arms over your chest and hug yourself. “Why did you take me here?” The sound of your voice echoes off the walls eerily and you wish you hadn’t spoken so loudly. The reflection of your words sounds girlish, nervous.

“I told you. Your side of our contract.” Even in this dark, the angular features of his face are clearly concentrating—on you. “Are you already having second thoughts? Such a fickle little thing…”

“You mean the ring?” You reach for it again, ready to tear it off and throw it at him if that’s what it takes to see your deal through, but Overhaul snatches your hand away, pinning it above you.

“Not the ring,” he says. “The promise.”

The…promise?

A chill makes its way down your spine despite the heat radiating off the demon’s body and onto yours. “I don’t understand.”

“The promise,” Overhaul repeats—and you hear a sound almost like wings flapping and then he’s on the altar with you, knees straddling your hips as a single hand holds both your wrists above your head. “To remain a virgin until marriage. Your promise to God.”

A streak of lightning cracks down on the other side of the stained glass window behind the altar, illuminating the room briefly in spectacular pits of red and orange and yellow…and then it’s dark again, and the only color you can make out is the gold in Overhaul’s eyes.

“I’m going to break it,” he murmurs, lowering his head toward your ear right as the answering thunder rolls through the sanctuary, up through the altar, up into you.

///

Méfiez-vous de son piège, the grimoire said. Beware of the catch.

Of course it wasn’t just a ring.

Overhaul’s fingers are in—inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping through the length of your cunt like they belong there, like you were made to be touched this way. A mixture of your juices and your own spit cling to the latex because he made you suck his fingers before he put them in you and he hasn’t bothered to take his gloves off—not that you asked. You’ve been too busy biting your lip to try and muffle the moans that he keeps forcing out of you. He’s bracing himself on top of you with one hand and fingering you with the other, so your own hands are free to push into your eyes and hide your face…until he yanks your arm back and stops.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes are screwed shut and you shake your head back and forth, the movement shuddering your whole body right down to your pussy wrapped around Overhaul’s fingers. He slows the movement and kneels back, pushing one of your thighs up into your chest as he does it.

“Look at me.”

And you’re not sure whether it’s some unearthly power he has over you or the plain old deterioration of your willpower, but you can’t refuse him. You crack your eyes open and he’s glaring down at you, skin pale as ice in the blue light. Once he’s satisfied that you’re watching, the demon leans back in to fuck your cunt with his fingers, slowly at first and then quicker when he hits something inside of you—a spot, a place on the inner wall of your pussy that makes you feel like you’ve been shocked— heat blooms through you like blood in water and you gasp and he curls his fingers up to pet over that spot again.

“Wait—wait, that’s—it feels—weird!” You’ve never felt like this before. You’re not supposed to feel like this, it’s wrong.

“I understand you’ve never touched yourself, but don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Overhaul says, voice as indifferent and calm as ever even though your cunt is dripping clear sticky liquid over the plastic of his glove.

He pushes back in and grinds his palm over the little button on the top of your pussy—your clit?—and you want to scream. “No, I—I don’t—nnhh...”

Do you like it? The demon’s body is so hot next to yours, like he’s running a fever except you’re the one going out of your mind… You’ve heard metaphors for sexual pleasure before (that it’s like having something to drink when you’re dying of thirst; or that it’s the ultimate act of intimacy, love in physical form) but all of that’s a fucking lie. There’s nothing to compare it to, no reference that makes sense, because it doesn’t make sense—you don’t even want him to keep going, do you? You’re only doing this because you signed your name on a devil’s contract, because you don’t want to die and there’s no alternative…but that doesn’t explain why you feel so warm from the inside out, why you’re squirming and your hips are rocking involuntarily no matter how much you try to keep still. This isn’t right. You feel like you’ve been lied to.

A good girl wouldn’t like this.

Overhaul isn’t going to let you close your eyes, so you don’t—but the sounds coming out of your mouth are so…indecent (and how can you think these things about yourself? the word feels like someone else is saying it when you hear it in your head) that your hand is drifting up to your mouth before you can stop yourself, trying to stifle all of it…

“Let your voice out. I want you to hear yourself moan.”

Long fingers slide their way out of your pussy and then move up to rub quick little circles around your clit and you moan, like a whore, like a girl getting her cunt rubbed by a demon— “Oh, uhhhn—something, it’s—coming—“ There’s something building up in your core—a peak, a climax, something that makes you fist your hands in the nightgown he put you in (so tight you’re surprised the thin fabric hasn’t torn) and tilt your hips up into him, begging without words because you don’t have any to express what your body is asking for…

But he doesn’t give it to you. Overhaul takes his hand away from your pussy and the shock of the cool air after his too-hot touch is almost enough to send you over that edge—almost. Not quite. And without it, you’re left shivering and quaking, thighs twitching as your baser instincts beg you to just put your hand between your legs for once and hump your fingers to completion if the demon won’t do it.

You’re not going to risk that, though. Not when Overhaul’s dragging your body closer, bunching up the blanket on the altar under your spine, so your pelvis is angled to his… He’s already shirtless and you hear him unzipping his pants but you can’t bring yourself to actually look at him, even when you feel something hard and hot nudging up against your inner thigh and then aligning to your sticky wet slit.

“This will hurt a bit, but I want you to look,” he says, and you don’t even understand at first until you make yourself feel it—his cock, pushing up against your tight cunt to finish this, this perversion of what your first time was supposed to be…

And what was it supposed to be? Roses and candles and soft kisses? A nameless, faceless husband unzipping your wedding dress and making love to you with the lights off? The way the demon touches you should be cruel in comparison but it isn’t, it’s lighting fires under your skin and turning your brains to mush, so how is your body supposed to tell the difference?

It’ll hurt, you know that, you’ve heard enough about sex to know that it always hurts the first time for girls…women. It was already a stretch to fit his fingers in your virgin pussy, so of course his cock is going to hurt. You turn your head toward the window at your side and try on look out at the rain drawing rivulets like veins over the glass, something to focus on instead of him.

“I said look,” the demon hisses, and his hips push forward a bit and you bite off a whimper of pain. “Watch me take your virginity…look at your tight little cunt swallowing me up just like it was made to.”

“N-No—“ you whine, even though it’s not like you can ignore it. “Don’t make me, don’t make me look, I can’t—“

“Then look at me.”

It’s what he wants, some kind of wicked satisfaction he gets off on, but you’re lucky enough to even get an option so you choose that one, shifting your gaze up into his face instead of the place where his cock is pressing deeper and deeper inside you. Overhaul’s eyes are half-lidded and it’s hard to tell from behind the mask but the look on his face is…pleasure? No, that would be too human. Restraint, at least. He could just thrust up into your body in one stroke, but he wants you to feel it for some reason.

Maybe because it’s a worse betrayal of your chastity if you want to get fucked.

Lucky for you, though, you can barely feel anything aside from the pain. The heat you felt building earlier is draining out of you even as Overhaul tilts deeper, layering his chest over yours. You’re almost grateful for the modest barrier the dress provides between your torso and the solid muscle of his abdomen. His cock in your pussy feels like it’s too big too deep too much and it’s the first time you’ve felt like your body wasn’t created specifically for this purpose so you hold it tight.

“Does it hurt?”

A second of clarity makes you want to snarl (of course it fucking hurts, I’m losing my virginity to a demon I summoned from hell) and you dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from saying it out loud. Overhaul pulls out a fraction of an inch and then pushes back in and you feel like the breath’s being pushed out of your lungs. “Yes! Yes, it—it hurts—“

“I can make you enjoy it…for a price,” he sighs, settling into a slow rocking motion of his hips pushing into yours.

And you want to, every sore muscle in your cunt is telling you to give in and give up, give him what he wants so you can enjoy it like he says—but you’d rather hate every second of this than make another deal. You shake your head quickly and because you’re still too afraid to look away from him, you don’t miss the look of surprise that flits across his face before he tamps it down. “I don’t—I don’t want to—like it,” you gasp out between thrusts. “It’s better if—if it h-hurts…”

This time it’s obvious—his eyes really do widen, and you feel some petty triumph at having caught him off guard like this. Who’s predictable now? you think—and then he’s lifting one hand off the altar at the side of your head and tugging his glove off with his teeth, and you don’t even have time to be afraid of what he’s going to do to you because it’s too late, his bare fingers are already stroking over your mound and onto your core, massaging into the flesh of your stomach so he can feel his own cock sliding in and out of you—

and it doesn’t hurt anymore?

You only have a second to try and understand—he cured you, he healed the pain from your first time just like he healed your illness?—before he hooks his grip under your thigh and folds your legs into your chest so he can fuck into you harder than before. His cock slaps into your pussy and you can hear it, hear how wet your filthy little cunt is, smeared through with your juices. It’s sick—the sound of skin against skin, and the moaning you can’t hold back, you sound like a woman in a porno and you wish the pain would come back just so you could keep hating what he’s doing to you. “What—what did you do—“

The demon ignores you. “It feels good, doesn’t it.”

“Nn—“ It’s deeper like this…deeper and rougher and you can feel it. Now that the pain’s been reduced to the dull ache of a stretched muscle, you can feel everything—his cock sliding against that same spot in your cunt that makes you want to squeal, the friction of his body moving against your clit, all of it, everything you wanted to block out— he pumps into you and you hear your breath sobbing out a moan a second out of rhythm, the sounds of you bouncing on demon cock echoing over the walls. “Please—ah, ahhh…”

“‘Please?’ Are you begging—me, little girl?” Overhaul pushes your thigh up and drags his cock through you, excruciatingly slow, forcing you to feel the thick head slide over every gummy wall in your slick pussy.

You shake your head, mewl, try to force your hips to stop rocking back into his and grinding your clit against him. But you can’t. You’re a—you were a virgin, for fuck’s sake! Overhaul’s immortal. Probably thousands of years of experience on how to make you feel like you want this, like you’re only alive in the places he touches you… You’re at his mercy, if he has any. You never stood a chance.

“Then are you begging your god?” His body lowers directly onto yours and like you’re being controlled by puppet strings your arms fold around him and rake your fingernails uselessly into the smooth skin of his back. You can feel the vibration of his mirthless laughter through his chest. “It must hurt terribly…to know he isn’t listening.”

“Don’t—stop, please,” you sob. “Don’t say—don’t stop—please!”

“Listen to yourself, girl—“ Overhaul’s breath is faster now, but you don’t have time to question it because you feel your peak coming again, the tension rising up through your cunt and your abdomen, harsher and crueler than when his fingers were in you but you want it just as much. More. “Has he ever answered your prayers? Has he...ahh, fuck—who’s the one giving you what you need?”

“No— please, please just let me let me, please—“ You’re talking nonsense now, begging for the release—at least then it’ll be over, and you need it, you need it so badly you feel your muscles locking up, cramping, your ankles crossing each other behind Overhaul’s back.

“Good girl,” the demon breathes, and then he lifts off you so he’s kneeling upright with the two of you still connected, his thick, heavy cock still speared in your pussy, and his fingers come down again to rub at your clit. Everything’s so wet you can hear the motion of his fingers slicking themselves through your juices, sliding up and down the little button over and over and it feels so good that a tiny part of you almost wants to drag it out, to savor it, but the rest of your body is going to die, is going to go crazy if the demon doesn’t let you cum right now, right now, right now!

And he does. Praise the Lord. The pads of Overhaul’s fingers pass over your clit one last time and your head rolls back, your throat moves but you can’t even make a sound, your legs shake and you cum.

You didn’t know it was like this.

Your cunt squeezes down on his cock, throbbing and pulsing and your toes literally curl (you didn’t think that was a real thing!) and your vision goes black for a moment and—oh fuck oh fuck i want this i want more how is it possible that i’ve never felt like this—you understand, more intimately than ever, why sex is wrong:

because nothing that makes you feel this good could possibly come without a cost, could it?

///

It must take longer than you thought for you to come back to your senses, because when you regain awareness of your body you’re in your hospital bed. You’re clean, too, and you wonder for a second if Overhaul bothered to clean you up? Or no…he probably just snapped his fingers and transported you back to your room. You’re not really sure how it works.

What you are sure of, however, is that you just got fucked by a demon. You’re sore in places that you didn’t know it was possible to be sore, and there are already bruises forming on the flesh of your thighs from how tight he was holding you. You don’t really have time to inspect these, though, because apparently your…ordeal (if you can call it that) isn’t over.

Overhaul’s still here.

He’s facing the hints of sunrise through the east window, dressed again in the immaculate lab coat and surgeon’s mask. “You’re awake,” he says without looking at you.

You nod hesitantly. You’re not really sure what the protocol is in this situation, but at least you’ve finally held up your side of the contract, right? And so has he. Despite having been up all night doing sinful things, you’re still itching to get out of this bed and test the limits of your healthy body. “You’re…going to leave, right?”

“Yes—”

At that, you sigh in relief and settle back into your starched bedsheets.

“But there’s one more thing you owe me.”

“Goddamnit,” you swear for the very first time in your life. After what you just did, taking the Lord’s name in vain seems like a relatively minor sin.

Overhaul’s mildly irritated expression doesn’t change, but he holds his hand out to you, palm up, the way you imagine someone would if they were helping you out of a car or requesting a dance at an old-fashioned ball. And really, you want all of this to be over—you want to get out of this hospital, you want to taste what the air outside is like, you want to distract yourself from what you just gave up in exchange for a future. At this point you’re just going to have to hope God isn’t as picky about the whole premarital sex thing as you grew up believing.

So you put your hand in Overhaul’s.

Slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid it’ll burn him, he slides your purity ring down your finger and balances it in the palm of his bare hand. It sizzles when he touches it, glowing orange until it eventually burns down into a ash-black circle in the center of his palm. Once he’s satisfied that your pretty little ring has been reduced to nothing more than a scorch mark, he closes his hand around yours and you feel something sharp, painfully hot, etching onto your finger.

It’s over in a second, but you still yelp and yank your hand away from him as soon as he lets you. “Ah—ow, what was that?”

He burned you, he literally burned you! He’s already healed it, but there’s still a thin, pale scar, an intentional one left wrapping around the skin at the base of your left ring finger. Like a wedding ring.

When you look close, you can make out a symbol on the back of your finger where the cross used to sit—and even though your conscious mind doesn’t recognize it, the sight of it rings out something inside your ribcage, deeper and truer than flesh and blood. It’s the devil’s mark, you think. It’s his.

“…A promise,” Overhaul says softly, and even though it’s a chilly morning, you can feel the heat of his hands on yours a long time after he vanishes back into the dark.

[wavesmp3]

[ksw] clouds

sunwoo x reader

wc. 5k warnings: medical inaccuracies, death, illness, hospitals, overall just a pretty heavy piece genre can only be described as an absolute mess inspired mainly by san junipero but also slightly by charlie kaufman and wong kar wai

a/n: this is supposed to be told nonlinearly but like the creation of it was very messy so i have no clue if it actually worked, so good luck trying to make this piece make sense of this :) 

act iii. scene iii.

Sunwoo sits and watches the sun shift from pink and blue to an impossible shade of green. And it’s then he knows that without a doubt Clara has ruined the color green for him. Because instead of marveling at the color of the sky, Sunwoo is reminded of the doors in her apartment building.

“Thought I might find you here.” The voice of a stranger who Sunwoo loved once upon a time says behind him. He tries like hell not to turn around. Not to lean back towards the voice and wait for your hand on his shoulder or your shin knocking familiarly against his back. He focuses on the waves crashing below instead. The roar of the water beneath him is deafening, but only if you let it be. He does, and he almost forgets that you’re behind him.

“Where’d you go?” You ask, now sitting next to him, tugging at the long grass. 

“I’m right here.”

“And what about in there?” You bring a finger up and poke at the side of his forehead. 

He turns to you, facing you in full. He takes in your features like it’s the first time all over again. And, oh, he wishes he knew before how many firsts you already had together. This is just another. This is just the first time he’s seen you in the past six months and remembered the thousands of times he’s seen your face before. 

He studied your cheeks. The one he now recalls running the back of his palm over after you left for the Cloud. 

He memorizes, for the millionth time, your eyes. He used to swear they were darker than they are, but then he saw them in the sun. He was dying back then; then he saw your eyes and you saved him. Just like that. 

Mr. Choi was right of course. As he always must be. You and him are like an old married couple. Not like. You are. Almost were. 

“I had lunch with Mr. Choi today.” He tells you. 

You squint at him. “I know. It’s Thursday.” You pull out a piece of the grass. “What’d he make?”

“Ramen.”

“Was it good?”

“It was okay.”

“Too spicy?”

Suwnoo answers with a sigh, looking away from you and back towards the water. The deafening waves crash against the cliffside. “I know you looked at your file.” He finally says. You stop pulling at the grass. You still. “Mr. Choi told me.”

After he says it, there’s a silence that isn’t actually silent at all. The waves rage below his feet. The seagulls are there too, beneath, above, somewhere, everywhere. And then, of course, there’s you and Sunwoo, trying to be silent over the static in your heads and the machines you’re hooked up to in a universe far far away. 

“Did he tell you about my file?”

He looks at you again. “No.”

“Oh.” You look away, brows furrowed, lick your lips, and then turn back to him. “So why are you upset?”

“After he told me, I went and I…”

“You didn’t.”

“I looked at mine.”

There’s another silence, except that this time it really is quiet. Sunwoo read once whilst in a rabbit hole of medical research that true silence only happens in a vacuum, where there is no medium for sound waves to travel through. This must be that. This place, the files, Mr. Choi and Mr. Chan, Clara and her apartment building full of green doors--it’s a vacuum. And they stick people in it then call it the Cloud. They call it extra time. But it isn’t. It’s nothing and he’s stuck in the middle of it. So Sunwo stares at you, straight through the vacuum of time and space you’re both lost in, waits for you to say something, and then waits for himself to hear it. 

“You looked?” You finally say, voice folding in on itself. 

“Yes.” Sunwoo’s own voice is barely there. You must be reading his lips which you’ve always been good at anyways. 

“So you know now?” 

“I always knew, and now, I remember.”

act i. scene iv.

There’s been an accident. 

That’s what they say when the sun falls out of the sky and the world starts spinning in the wrong direction. It’s how they show up at Sunwoo’s door painted in shades of blue and red, with authority in their arms and hands on their hips. How they prepare him for the looming moment where they rip past his skin, blood, bone to shoot a gun straight at his heart. I’m so sorry for your loss, they say leaving him with a bullet lodged somewhere between his left and right atrium. 

And those are the four words that play over and over and over in Sunwoo’s head as he gets to the hospital. Those are the words that crawl inside his open chest and turn him blue and black with infection. There’s been an accident, he remembers, staring at the extraordinary measures taken to keep your heart beating and lungs beating. This is it. Except that the accident isn’t that you’re dying, but that you’re dying. It’s always supposed to have been him. He’s supposed to be the one stuffed with tubes and hooked up to monitors, the one whose life is hanging on by a thread, and you’re supposed to be the one that saves him. It all feels like a play that’s gone horribly wrong because everyone switched parts after intermission without telling him. At what point did you steal the role of dying protagonist from him? 

We did everything we could, a stranger in a white coat says. Except that it’s not some stranger, it’s your colleague and co-worker because this is the hospital you work at and the hospital Sunwoo met you in. There was too much damage to the brain, they explain as the image of their tear-stricken face goes from your friend during intern year to the doctor who operated on you as your brain went dead. 

“We have two options, right?” Sunwoo is far too familiar with surgery and all this. He knows from his hospital days what’s supposed to happen next. But apparently, things have changed since then. 

“Actually, there’s a third option.”

Sunwoo doesn’t waste a second. He jumps out of the chair stained red from his bleeding heart and asks: “What is it?”

“We can upload them.”

act iii. scene ii.

In fifty days of living in the cloud, Sunwoo has learned all about the people that he shares a building with. There’s Mr. Chan who lives behind a vomit green on the same floor as him and who hasn’t left his room since last January. There’s also Mr. Choi, who lives behind the emerald door and invites Suwoo over for lunch every Thursday. Clara lives upstairs, where the walls are painted in various shades of green--olive, seaweed, moss, hunter, shamrock, sage, and others that Sunwoo tries not to think too deeply about. He’s only met Clara once in the past fifty days and has no particular wish to see her again. He hadn’t expected her to be a kid. Cancer, you told him after their introduction in the lobby, poor girl was only seven. As said before, Sunwoo tries not to think about it. 

And then of course there’s you behind the forest green door who has been slowly showing him all the good places. There’s the beach where you spent the day making seashell necklaces. The  cafe which serves its tea too sweet for him, but sweet enough to be considered your favorite. Sunwoo just gets the chocolate bread. You took him downtown. To a club. The tallest building. And to midtown where the amusement park is. 

But his favorite place you’ve taken him so far is the cliffside above the beach, where the waves crash against the rocks in a way that can only be described as violent. That day you and him laid in the grass and stared at the clouds with your heads dangling just over the edge and water spraying the backs of your necks. That day you turned to him and told him you’re sorry. For what, he asked. I’m so sorry you’re sick, you said, but it’s nice to have you around here. I think in a sense, we’ve both been waiting for this. Then, you smiled and stole all of the blood from his body. So yeah, that day, that place--it’s his favorite. 

Today, you take him on a hike up a mountain. 

“Do you believe in an afterlife?” You ask him after having spent thirty minutes silently staring at the view from the best peak. 

“One after this?”

“Yeah. I guess. Although, I’m not so convinced this counts.”

“I don’t know.” Sunwoo shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Do you think we’d be able to be with our loved ones in it?”

His chest lurches. “If there is one, yes.”

“Do you think it’ll be different than this?”

Sunwoo turns to you finally. “Why are you asking about this?”

You shake your head. “Nevermind. It’s a stupid question.”

He turns back towards the view. From here, he can make out Clara’s building. He thinks about her, about Mr. Choi and Mr. Chan, who he recently found out were once married but who haven’t spoken since Mr. Chan read his file in January, and he thinks about you and about him. 

“I think,” Sunwoo says, loud enough so that you can hear after wandering a little bit away from him, “that whatever the afterlife is, if it does exist, it’ll be worth it.”

You turn to him, but don’t make any move to come near him again. “And if it doesn’t exist?”

“Then life will have been worth it.”

The corner of your lip lifts. “I like that.”

Sunwoo only nods at the sentiment, and after a long while, he builds enough courage to ask, “you’ve been here a really long time, haven’t you?”

“Time doesn't work as linearly in the cloud as it does in the real world. Sometimes it feels like I got here and then you arrived the very next day.” You turn back towards the view and exhale heavily. 

“But yes. I’ve been here for an eternity.”

act ii. scene i.

Before he actually sees you, Sunwoo feels you. Not you, in particular, but something in the distance, a presence in the corner of the room and a pair of eyes watching him from somewhere far away. 

The scariest part is how much the feeling doesn’t actually scare him. 

--

Two days after that, he starts to see you in the flesh. He tells himself that his mind is playing tricks on him, that the person he saw in the produce aisle wasn’t actually you at all and was just a stranger with the same hair. 

He doesn’t go straight home from the store that day. Instead, he stops by the hospital and checks in on you, but even that doesn’t do anything about the fact that he sees a shadow of you behind the bed.

--

The day after that, you speak to him. Standing in the middle of his kitchen in broad daylight, you speak, you say hello, and the first thing Sunwoo thinks is that he’s dead. 

You aren’t, you reply. You’re a zombie, he reasons, here for my brain. I’m not. A ghost. No. Are you, here Sunwoo falters, fear flooding out of his body to make room for the briefest blotch of hope that’s crushed almost immediately by you saying: I’m not alive, Sunwoo. You saw me in the hospital yesterday. 

“So then,” he swallows, “what are you?”

I’m here. You look at him, stare at his face and without a sliver of doubt say, I’m here for you. 

Sunwoo knows it’s impossible. You can’t be here. You can’t. And yet, you are. 

Three years ago Sunwoo was told he had three months left to live, and he still remembers how impossibly you saved him from the brink of death. He remembers how impossible things happen all the time, and how impossibly possible it is that this is one of them. He steps towards you, touches your face, and feels the real, impossible thing against his hand. 

“You’re here.”

--

On the fifth day of your haunting, Sunwoo finally has the sense to ask why. 

Why what?

“Why are you here?”

I’m here for you.

“Stop saying that.”

But I am, you tell him. You asked, and that’s the answer. I’m a doctor, Sunwoo. I’m here for you. 

Then, finally, he hears what you’ve been saying for the past five days. You’re here for him. 

And the thing about doctors is that they’re there for you when you need them. 

“I’m sick.” 

Yes, you answer quietly, although it wasn’t a question. 

“Again.” 

I’m so sorry. 

“You’re a hallucination, aren’t you?” Sunwoo’s shocked by how sad that makes him, how disappointing it is. “I’ve been hallucinating.”

Find me in the Cloud, Sunwoo. There’s something I want to say. 

You’re gone by the time he gets to the hospital. 

act iii. scene i.

Sunwoo stares at the hall of green doors, eyes darting from door to door in an attempt to stare down the shades until they confess which one of them is tea green.

“Clara, the landlord, likes colors.” A voice says from behind him. “Every couple of months she repaints all of the doors in different shades of the same one. Before the green, it was yellow.” 

Sunwoo turns around to face you. When your eyes find him, they go blank for the smallest of moments. You give him a look that goes right through him, turning him inside out like you’ve seen the underside of his skin. It irks him. 

“I’m Sunwoo. I’m new.”

You gulp. “You’re here.” He doesn’t know what to make of the statement. Do all people in the cloud act like this? “Why?”

Sunwoo nods, maybe you’re not so weird as much as you just have a weird way of posing questions. “I was told I’m sick.”

“I’m sorry.” You say, frowning like you actually might feel back for him. 

“Have you been here a while then?” You nod. “Can I ask how long?” You shake your head. Sunwoo doesn’t think too much about it. Instead, he returns your earlier question “Why are you here?”

“Brain dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

You ignore it and point to a door down the hall. “I’m forest green. You?”

“Tea green. But I can’t find-” 

You tap the door in front of him. “This one, genius.”

“Oh.” He laughs awkwardly. “Thanks.”

Your mouth parts as if to say something, and your face goes blank again. He feels his skin turning itself inside out because of it. “Have you read your file yet?”

He shakes his head. “I just got here.”

You inhale, softening, and mutter an ‘okay’. You continue down the hall towards your door. Sunwoo is stuck in place. “I can show you around here, if you like. Take you to all the cool places.”

Sunwoo takes you up on it.

A forest green door slams shut down the hallway. 

act i. scene ii.

“Thank you for taking me out of the hospital.” Sunwoo says, exhaling. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve been to a park like this.” 

And it’s true, he really can’t. He’s been sick for so long now, and has been through a multitude of treatment plans and too many surgeries. When you’re sick and have 9 surgeons turn you down after asking them to save your life, you forget the joy of being outside and feeling the sun on your skin. You were the first doctor to agree to the surgery. You’re the only doctor to have ever treated Sunwoo like he wasn’t dying, like he was actually going to live.

“You don’t have to thank me. This is good for me too.” You say, head resting against the park bench and eyes closed. 

Sunwoo inhales, taking in the park with all his senses. A visceral sort of thing you learn to do as often as possible when you’ve been as close to death as frequently as he has. He feels the wood beneath his body and the grass beneath his feet. He feels the light on his skin and the wind pushing against his arms and nose. He listens to the kids screaming at the playground at the bottom of the hill and to the dogs barking within the dog park beside it. He takes all this in, relishes in it for the last time as a dying person. 

You sigh. “One more surgery.” 

“And then I’ll be done with this sickness.” 

You smile. He pretends not to see. “And then you’ll be done.” 

“Thank you for saving my life.”

“Don’t do that.”

“No. Seriously.” 

You smile again, this time at him. Sunwoo doesn’t have to pretend not to see. “I haven’t finished saving it yet.”

He leans back against the bench and closes his eyes. “But you will.” 

You tap on your coffee cup. “Honestly though, you did more work than me.” Sunwoo frowns while you take a sip. “The other nine doctors you called are good doctors, and they made the same judgement call I would have made for any other patient. No sane doctor would have agreed to treat you. But you were the reason I said yes. You had such faith that you were going to live and so much faith that I could do it that I believed you. I might be the one doing the technical saving, but you, Sunwoo, you’re the one who convinced me to do it. You saved yourself.”

He stares at you. The light hits your eyes like it’s finding a way to break through them. In truth, before Sunwoo got sick, he didn’t think he was scared of death, but he is. He’s terrified of it. Sunwoo realized it two weeks after his diagnosis and the day after he was wrongly told he only had three more months left to live. But now, for the first time since he was diagnosed, he doesn't feel so afraid of it. Despite how far he’s come and how close he is to beating this fucking illness, while staring at the light woven through your eyes, Sunwoo thinks he could live with himself if he dropped dead tonight. 

That thought alone, is almost as terrifying as death used to be. 

act iii. scene v.

“I saw your ghost, you know.” It’s the first thing Sunwoo has said to you in over two weeks. “It wasn’t actually you though, was it?” You don’t even bother looking up from your cup of tea. Through the silence, Sunwoo orders a coffee. 

“I didn’t know that.” The coffee turns lukewarm. “It wasn’t me.” You push an uneaten half of chocolate bread towards him. “It’s in your brain this time. Symptoms can include hallucinations.”

“Think you can still save me?” You can’t. If you know that much, you know he’s out of medical miracles, and that this time, he really won’t survive it. But it’s a joke. And you laugh at it.

“Definitely not. I never really liked neurosurgery.”

And all at once, he’s painfully aware of your friend somewhere in the real world that does like it but watched anyways as your brain died before her, split wide open. 

“Anyways, how do you know all of this?” But what Sunwoo really wants to say is brains are killer. Literally. Figuratively. 

“I’ve known since we...“ you hesitate, mouth stuck halfway through a word he can’t place. “After last time, I read your chart and looked at your scans.” Sunwoo nods. He expected as much. He doesn’t ask how you got them. “I’m sorry you're sick again.” You say to him quietly. “I’m sorry you’re dying.”

“I’m sorry you’re dead.” As soon as the words have left his mouth, he regrets them. Because you aren’t. And he knows you too well to think you’d look past the technicality. 

You scoff, shake your head slightly, and with a spiteful smile say, “Can I say it?”

Sunwoo only sighs. “Let’s start over instead.” 

You nod. He pushes the chocolate bread back. 

act iii. scene iv.

Mr. Choi was the one to recommend that Sunwoo give you and himself space. It’s been a month since you and him last spoke, since that moment hovering above the waves after he read his file and after he found out you read yours. He misses you, and has been for so long now. Mr. Choi was wrong. Sunwoo’s standing outside your forest green door to prove it. 

You open the door before he can knock. There’s no shock in your voice when you say his name, like you’ve been waiting for this day, expecting it. 

He looks behind you, at your apartment in Clara’s building that looks just like your apartment in the real world. The same one he cleaned out after you died, still filled with things he gave to your family or donated or took back to his place. He wants to crumble just looking at it again. “Can I come in?”

“It’s only been a month.”

And he knows what you mean by it. Three months is the recommended time off after reading one’s file. To reacclimate, they say, to process. But the insinuation that Sunwoo was supposed to go three months without seeing you makes him feel sick. The insinuation that after a year of being without you in the real world he was supposed to be without you here too, enrages him. Then he remembers how long you’ve been here, and how long you’ve been doing this and feels slightly murderous.

All he says is: “It’s been a lot longer than that for you.”

Your lip twitches. You lock and unlock the open forest green door five times before saying, “Are you sure?”

He nods. You let him in. 

Sunwoo used to imagine what it would be like to meet you again in the Cloud one day. He imagined tears and hugs and kisses. He imagined i love you’s and i hate you’s and i miss you. He imagined the scenario more times than can possibly be considered healthy. But he imagined something. He was waiting for the day. Waiting for this day. But this moment, sitting at your round wood table while you boil water for tea, is nothing like the million different ways he imagined seeing you again. 

And as you set down two mismatched mugs and take the seat across from him, he doesn’t even try to create one of them. “How long has it been since you read your file?”

You watch the steam rise from your tea for a long moment, then stand, grab the sugar and pour a spoonful of it into your tea. You take another spoonful and look at him expectantly. “Want some?” He nods, and you pour the sugar into his. You stir the tea then taste, then cringe, then add more sugar and then ask if he wants it. He refuses. You stir again. Sunwoo watches the whirlpool and waits the eternity it takes you to say: “I read it on my first day.”  

You put the sugar away, satisfied with the tea’s sweetness while Sunwoo marvels at how long you’ve known and how silently you’ve been carrying the knowledge of you and him since he came. And that knowledge is what makes him finally remember one of the reasons he came. “Is there something you want to tell me?” You look up at him when he asks it, exhaling like you’ve been wanting to bring it up for so long now, which Sunwoo guesses isn’t as much of a simile as he thinks it is. 

“Yes, actually. I…” you hesitate, flicking the mug as if the right words will come hopping out of the tea. Sunwoo watches for it. “I’ve just been here for a long time now, Sunwoo.”

“Two years isn’t that long.”

“Time doesn’t work the same here as it does down there.” You tell him tiredly. “It’s been decades.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“In the beginning, I didn’t mind the waiting. I knew you were on your way, but I just,” you hesitate, “I didn’t think it’d take so long for you to come back to me.” 

Sunwoo covers your hand with his. “I’m sorry.” You twist your palm into it, squeeze, then pull your hand away. Sunwoo swallows. “I came as fast as I could.”

“I know. I waited.”

“Do you regret it?” Sunwoo’s terrified of what the answer might be.

You don’t give it. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“Then?”

“I’ve been here for so long, and,” your head drops, voice breaking under the weight it carries, “it’s been so lonely.”

“But I’m here now.” Sunwoo says, leaning forward against the table. “You aren’t alone anymore.”

“I know you’re here. I know, and I thought that would fix it, but it didn’t. Seeing you in the hall that day was so bittersweet, because you were here but that also meant you were somewhere else dying. Because you were here and I still felt lonely.” You stop, chugg the remaining bits of your tea, and then wipe your cheeks. “Do you get what I’m saying?”

“No.” But it’s a lie. He does get it. He knows all about loneliness and the way it creeps inside, so slyly. The way it starts small and then grows, feeding on negligence, until it's too big for your body. He knows how it sits inside you, for all its enormity, and spills into everything. He knows how it lingers. How it has nothing to do with people or lack of them and everything to do with grief. Sunwoo knows all about loneliness. The day he read his file he felt a dam of it burst open within him. 

“I’m saying that in the real world I saved you, and now it’s your turn to save me.” You gulp. “I’m saying that I want you to unplug me.”

It takes a moment for Sunwoo to even register what you’ve said, but when he does remember the life support that’s keeping your body alive somewhere in a universe far away, he doesn’t say anything. He just stands and walks out of your apartment. 

act i. scene iii.

“Doctor, please present.” The attending announces, stepping into Sunwoo’s room for rounds. 

“Mr. Kim,” a resident starts, flipping open his chart, “was diagnosed 14 months ago and has gone through several different treatment plans. When he came to us, the illness had spread and was deemed inoperable and untreatable by several other physicians. Our treatment plan was aggressive and grueling but ultimately, effective. Sunwoo is 20 days post op from his third and final surgery. The surgery went extremely well with no complications and his vitals were excellent. He has been a model patient all throughout recovery, and according to our latest scans, he is also now illness free…”

Sunwoo doesn’t even bother listening to the rest. 

--

“So, now that I’m no longer a patient, if I ask you out on a date, will you actually say yes?” 

“Well,” you say, signing his discharge papers, “only one way to know.”

“What is it?”

You look up at him, smiling. “Ask me again.”

He does. 

You say yes. 

act iii. scene v. take ii. 

“I saw your ghost.” The first thing Sunwoo says after the last failed attempt.

You look up from your tea. “It wasn’t me.” 

“I know.” Sunwoo orders another coffee. “But the hallucination was how I knew I was sick again. It made me feel like you were trying to warn me, like you were up here somewhere caring from a distance. Right after I pieced it all together you told me to find you here and that there was something you wanted to say.” The coffee turns lukewarm again. Sunwoo can’t bring himself to say it. You sigh and push the same piece of chocolate bread back towards him. This time, he takes a bite from it. And with a mouthful of chocolate bread, he cries, “I just got you back, and now you want to leave all over again.”

You frown. “I didn’t want to leave the first time, and it’s different now.”

“How?”

“I want to go. Isn’t that worth something?”

“And what about what I want?”

“Oh, Sunwoo,” you say, “I’m sorry you’re sick. The hallucination was you and your head, but for what it’s worth, I have been up here caring from a distance. I still…” you don’t need to say the words. He knows. He never had to doubt it. “I never stopped.”

“I’ve been thinking about what you asked of me.” Sunwoo tells you. He made the decision last week but today, right now, with your confession still falling through the air, is the first time he’s had the stomach to swallow it. “And I’ll do it. I will. I just need some time. You’ve had so long and in comparison I’ve had nothing.”

“Okay.” You say simply.

“How long can you give me?”

You smile. “You know I’d give you an eternity if you asked for it.”

“I’m scared.” Sunwoo confesses then. “I know it’s what you want, but selfishly, I don’t want to let you again. I don’t know if I’m a big enough person to do it.”

“I do.” You say to him, leaning forward against the table and looking straight through him. “I know because I was your doctor. I have cut inside your body, seen all your organs, and during surgery two, I held your heart in my hands. I felt it beating. So I know exactly how big it is, and I know it’s big enough for this”

Sunwoo feels the heart you worked so hard to repair bursting inside of him. 

“God. Why’d you have to read your file so soon?”

You laugh. “I missed you. I couldn’t help it.”

And just like that, you’ve stolen the entire concept of fear from him. 

“I’m ready.”

“What?”

He looks at you and feels the loneliness slither away.

“Ask me again.”

[the-ghost-king]

Schizophrenic Nico, here's why I think it's possible:

I want to start off by saying these are just my thoughts, there is no one way to be schizophrenic or to have schizophrenia. It's also important to note that many of the schizophrenic symptoms overlap with other mental illnesses/nuerodivergences like ADHD, Autism, Depression, and OCD which I know many people who head canon Nico as having. I'm not arguing schizophrenic Nico is more correct, more canon, or more right, but to explain some thoughts on why I think it's possible/very likely he does so I can use this for future reference in various thing.

I am using the term schizophrenia as a catchall for all "types" of schizophrenia, but not for schizoaffective disorder which I would say Nico probably doesn't have.

Children born in the winter/those who were "sickly" as babies are more likely to develop schizophrenia. It may also be possible if your mother was sick while pregnant with you, or having a father who was significantly older when he had you.

A stressful life, especially trauma, are more likely to develop schizophrenia or schizoaffective disorder. It likely has something to do with excessive dopamine production, but it may also have something to do with the same genes that control the sleep-wake cycle. Schizophrenia is more common with other mental illnesses or with other nuerodivergences or developmental delays.

Common symptoms include:

Hallucinations

Delusions

Disorganized thinking

lack of motivation

slow movement

change in sleep patterns

poor grooming or hygiene

changes in body language and emotions

less interest in social activities

Now what does this mean for Nico, and why do I think it's likely he has Schizophrenia?

Let's start with Nico's childhood, "children born in the winter/those who were "sickly" as babies are more likely to develop schizophrenia". Although Rick proposed two birthdays for Nico, the fandom generally accepted the January date more fully. We also know that Nico is described as small when he was younger, smallness is common in children who grow up sickly, but it is also common in children who's mother was ill while pregnant with them. We obviously don't know if Nico was sick as a kid, or if Maria was sick while pregnant with him, but again being born in the winter makes these things more likely, as well as consideration for the time period Nico grew up in and the larger variety of illnesses going around at the time. (He is vaccinated against some things though).

Trauma and Nico... do I really have to go into super detail on this one? He spent his childhood growing up in a fascist country that was extremely racist/anti-Semitic/homophobic/etc, his mom died when he was a child- in front of him, his father intentionally gave him amnesia, his sister died when he was a child, he then proceeded to become homeless living/spending lots of time with Minos who verbally (and possibly physically) abused him, becoming aware of his past memories, becoming aware of the fact that many people hated him because of his father and because they thought he was joining the other side (therefore, he was "bad"), he fought in many battles as a child, fought monsters alone, was often faced with life or death situations, went to Tartarus alone (where the goddess of misery told him he was "perfect"), was trapped in a hostage situation with little/no air for a long time while people debated whether or not to save him, was outed against his will, was freed only to travel again fighting monsters and then win a battle, was eventually made to quest with Apollo despite still having lots of healing to do in ToN. So stressful life? Fuck yeah, that doesn't being to cover it.

Genetic factors, obviously nothing here is confirmed so I'm speculating a little bit again, but the common idea in regards to Hades children through the series is that they are "bad". Mental illnesses have been stigmatized for hundreds, if not thousands of years, and often mentally ill people were made out to be weird/bad/etc. It's more than possible there is some sort of genetic factor taking place, also "having a father who was significantly older when he had you". Although I doubt godly genes work the same as mortal ones (trust me I have lots of thoughts on how god genetics/DNA work, but that's not the point right now), I think Hades being the oldest out of all his brothers and having a reputation for having "questionable" children says something... We have no information on Maria's family history at all.

As for schizophrenia often occurring with other mental illnesses and/or neurodivergences: Nico canonically is implied to have either ADHD and/or Autism, and is canonically stated to have PTSD. I think most people would agree that saying Nico has or has had depression isn't a stretch in the slightest.

So canonically we can all agree Nico has severe trauma and coinciding mental health issues/neurodivergences, so out of 4 possible issues I’ve first presented we guaranteeably have two. If I wanted to stretch this a little I would give myself a half point for him being born in the winter and a half point for the aspect of Hades genetics but I won’t do that.

On top of that schizophrenia usually appears during teenage and young adult years in people who receive diagnosis; most people live with mental illness for a few months or a few years in some cases before they're able to receive a diagnosis. Nico being 15 (16 by the end of ToN/shortly following the end of ToN) is about the age that schizophrenia would start to make an appearance. It's also more likely to be found in men, with men also noticing the appearance of schizophrenia appearing early in their lives, and experiencing more negative symptoms in comparison to the higher commonality of affective symptoms in women. That's a really complicated explanation to basically say there's 3 more things that would make Nico having schizophrenia make more sense.

Alright, let’s go back to the list of symptoms I provided:

Hallucinations

Delusions

Disorganized thinking

lack of motivation

slow movement

change in sleep patterns

poor grooming or hygiene

changes in body language and emotions/behavior

less interest in social activities

Once again, some of these are not solely related to schizophrenia and can be the result of other mental health issues, I’m just going to go down the list and add in some moments from the books in which Nico shows some of these traits/behaviors.

Delusions/Hallucinations (more later)

Our best chances for understanding Nico's thought process is in Blood of Olympus where he has a P.O.V... Sometimes Nico's thoughts do derail, or sometimes they get a little confusing, but not always, and when talking to others he is consistent and aware of what he's saying, as well as blunt. Anything "off" about his thought patterns to me just seems like ADHD..

Dietary changes (whether or not you think he has an eating disorder) are behavioral changes (I personally think Nico has AFRID)

Within House of Hades Nico's poor sleep patterns are constantly referenced, and I'll give him a pass on poor hygiene because he's in the middle of a quest but still..

I have extremely complicated feelings on what Will says here, it's possible Nico is an extremely unreliable narrator (unlikely, it seems many people are bothered by him and only maybe a handful aren't), I've also thought at many points this was Rick trying to backtrack some stuff with Nico because he realized he'd made his story a little too harsh for a kids book, it could also be Will's trauma kicking in and that happening... I'm not counting it as full proof about Nico disliking social interactions, but Nico does try to leave even after this conversation and isn't convinced to stay until the last chapter, so maybe there's something to be said about people's dislike of him for being a Hades kid- but I think it's fair to say Nico also dislikes people at least some because he doesn't have interest in trying to befriend anyone either, and is quick to assume all people dislike him (paranoia/low self esteem/and some other possible stuff). There's lots of discussions to be had about this quote and other similar ones, and I don't think a broad brush approach of "Nico good everyone else bad" is accurate it's more, "Nico is good but he fails to try and you have to work on your own mental health everyone won just go to you, and also people dislike Nico for silly reasons and need to get over themselves and make an effort too". (I'm extremely oversimplifying my thoughts and feelings to keep it brief.)

More on delusions and hallucinations:

Now I want to state that lots of schizophrenia symptoms share a lot of commonalities with ADHD and with depression, so although I might include some moments you think are just ADHD/depression I wouldn’t necessarily disagree with you but they could also be schizophrenia or coexisting mental health issues/divergences. I also went through the DSM-5 for schizophrenia (the DSM-5 is just this big book with lists and it’s how doctors diagnose any mental health issue/divergence), I also looked through the DSM-IV (an older book from before DSM-5 which is no longer really used) and the differences between the diagnosis was fairly minimal but they quit categorizing types of schizophrenia and instead rely more on a couple of word descriptions that seem more in line with a spectrum rather than a checkable box.

In order to receive a schizophrenia diagnosis, two (or more) of the following, each present for a significant portion of time during a 1-month period (or less if successfully treated), and at least one of these symptoms must be (1), (2), or (3):

Delusions

Hallucinations

Disorganized speech (frequent derailment or incoherence)

Grossly disorganized or catatonic behavior

Negative symptoms (i.e., diminished emotional expression or avolition).

It’s important to note that only one of these need to be checked off/true if the patient has voices which narrate their actions/behaviors/thoughts or if the person has more than one voice conversing with each other.

Nico deals with auditory hallucinations (2), he believes the voice belongs to Bob, his titan friend he left in Tartarus:

However this isn’t and immediate diagnosis because Bob’s voice doesn’t talk to another voice(s) in Nico’s head, and we don’t know if Nico has voices running commentary on his behaviors/thoughts.

The reason I state we are unaware if Nico has commentary isn’t because Nico hasn’t said anything, but because many people with schizophrenia before their diagnosis believe the narrative voices are just their thoughts and are a normal internal monologue- usually patients don’t realize anything is wrong until the voices start providing commentary on their actions so instead of “washing the dishes now” the voice(s) might say “wash the dishes now, you’re so lazy you can’t do anything, idiot” during a period of psychosis which may help them acknowledge that the voice(s) isn’t the way most people experience internal voice(s). It is very possible Nico is unaware he is experiencing narrative thoughts and simply assumes that his experience is something most people have, but I won’t use this to argue my point because it’s not confirmation of anything.

Returning now to Bob, Nico knows he is hearing Bob’s voice but he believes Bob is calling to him from Tartarus. Now, Nico says the voices are calling to him from Tartarus but there’s no confirmation of this anywhere… What I think is happening is Nico has a guilty conscience. He feels bad for “using” Bob to get out of Tartarus and various other things, so he feels bad that he is still down there. However, we don’t really know if Bob is calling to him or if Bob is able to do that- what I personally think is happening here is Nico’s brain is convincing Nico that Bob needs him because Nico is upset with himself for not helping Bob more, but also because Nico has never “sat still” before without a quest. Nico has also always felt the want to be needed/important...

It very well could be a delusion.

Schizophrenic patients often experience delusions which make them think they are destined for greatness, or that they have some divine/high force calling out to them for help that only they can provide. It’s an extremely common thing in individuals who experience delusions, and is in fact one of the most common delusions experienced. So although Bob could really be calling out to Nico, I don’t think he is, it doesn’t entirely make sense and there’s lots of little things which point to it being not entirely real- like the fact that nobody else knows about it? Or how absolutely sure Nico is that he need to return to Tartarus? It seems like a mixture of PTSD, delusions, and trauma response (returning to the trauma), working against him. I’ll say delusion is very likely (1).

Using these two factors alone there’s sufficient evidence for diagnosis, but let’s keep going just to see.

For disorganized speech (3) this isn’t something Nico seems to struggle with, and even if he did “derailing” could be ADHD or Autism, so I don’t think this symptom pertains to him.

Changes in behavior (4), seem to all be explainable via depression and/or PTSD- he has begun to express emotion again in Tower of Nero upon learning of Jason’s death he is said to be upset by Will and he walks off to be alone, seems like depression to me. Emotional/Behavior changes from schizophrenia tend to relate more to bipolar disorder rather than a depressive disorder, so I would say if Nico has schizophrenia he probably doesn’t have emotional or behavioral changes from it. If he did he might have some catatonic behavior, but this seems to be clearing up some in Tower of Nero so I’m not super sure on that, maybe during bad periods of psychosis behavioral changes occur, but I would lean more towards this isn’t a symptom Nico personally deals with. Negative symptoms (5) tie into this same idea, it’s possible it’s schizophrenia, but it’s more likely PTSD or depression at work.

So why do I care so much about the possibility of Nico being schizophrenic?

I feel like canonically/fanonically making Nico schizophrenic does a few things, firstly schizophrenic rep in media is extremely extremely awful- can you think off the top of your head of a schizophrenic character who isn't from a horror film/a murder/a villain in their own story? Maybe, but personally I can only think of one which is Charlie from Perks of Being a Wallflower- and even then? That's not canon, it's only implied- and it might not even be true

Schizophrenic media representation always paints schizophrenic people as bad, scary, and evil, and although the horror genre is extremely well known for being super ableist, transphobic, racist, homophobic, and misogynistic (just the final cherry on top) having one of the first- if not the first openly confirmed schizophrenic characters in children's media not only be someone who has lots of character development, and isn't a stereotype, but also be someone people have grown up with, cared for, and sympathized with- would be extremely monumental.

People with schizophrenia and other related disorders aren't something to be scared of or to think of as bad, and often times they're more bothered by whatever they're experiencing than you are.

I don't have schizophrenia or schizoaffective disorder or anything like that, but I have various undiagnosed mental health issues which often lead to me questioning reality, or having to set aside time to convince myself that no there isn't a man living in my wall... Having a character have to question those things, work through those feelings, and learn to trust themselves and care for themselves even with those difficulties would be really great to see in media, not just for people with schizophrenia but also for people with similar/related disorders who might share symptoms see parts of their own struggles in a good, educative way.

I have to finish this in two parts because tumblr keeps breaking because there's too many words in my post lmao (2nd part here)

[iwadori]

Hiiii can i request prompt 53 with tsukki? My annoying cousin u may know @chibiiichan(i cant tag her its a surprise) recommend ur account and well she never been right more than now I LIKE UR ACC TOO URM JUST TAG HER IN THE POST (bcs its actually her birthday next week monday so....the least i could do this bcs she likes tsukki and shes recently talk abt the iwazumi story of yours....lmao shes cringe but in the same time got mad n i was besides her hearing her whining like bruh 'its 1 am'...i know i should buy something for her but she got spoiled enough 💅...that mf-) thank you ✨

‘ALWAYS AND FOREVER’

TSUKISHIMA X READER

2K WORDS

GENRE: ANGST,FLUFF

TW: SLIGHT AMBIGIOUS MENTION OF SUICIDE/ASSISTED DEATH, AND DEATH, CURSING (IN MY A/N)

THIS IS FOR @chibiiichann Happy birthday, I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS (BECAUSE I HATE IT :D ) SOOOOO YEAH I HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR BIRTHDAY.

NOT PROOFREAD AT ALL. EXPECT SLIGHT MISTAKES

You were dying. You knew it. Your husband, Kei, knew it. Even friends you haven’t spoken too since high school knew it.

So why did you all pretend that everything was okay?

5 year old Y/N:

You were running around your neighbourhood park chasing after butterflies, without a care in the world. As you were frollicing in the grass, you manage to trip over a rock tumbling to the ground scraping your knee making it bleed. Looking down at your slightly injured knee, your lip begins to quiver which eventually leads to wails of tears streaming down your face.

“you don’t have to cry you know?” said a slightly quiet voice towering over you. Above you was a boy, quite tall with a fat pair of glasses, golden eyes and a head full of blonde locks.

“Well when I get hurt, I cry” you say matter oh factly (is that the phrase?) rubbing your nose as you sniffle. He held out a hand to you, which you immediately took shooting upwards and brushing yourself off.  

The boy, after looking at you wildly, turns around and walks back to the actual park. “Oi wait,” you call at the boy swiftly following him “aren’t you going to ask my name?”

“no.” he says simply, proceeding to walk ahead.

“well my names Y/N L/N pleasure to meet you,” you say jumping in front of him so he doesn’t move, waiting for him to tell you his name...which he doesn’t. “you don’t have to be so rude you know”  

“I’m not being rude” he says stiffly “ it’s just my brother says not to speak to strangers” a smirk appears on his face to say ‘you can leave me alone now.’  

As if on cue, his brother approaches the both of you given the boy a slap on the back making him cringe “Hey Kei, who’s the friend you’ve made here?”  

“My name is Y/N L/N and I'm here to be KEI’s best friend!” you said putting the emphasis on the word Kei after just learning that was the blondes name.  

Kei rolled his eyes and sighed saying “nii-chan can we go home now” he folded his arms in annoyance.

“No Kei, you’ve got to get to know your new found friend Y/N-Chan right?” his brother said teasingly, knowing it was the last thing Kei wanted to do.

“Yes ofcourse!” you say with a toothy grin, dragging Kei along with you to his demise.

Until the sun went down, you spent the rest of your time with Kei getting to know eachother (well him getting to know you more, since you did all the speaking.) Regardless of his previous annoyance in getting to know you in the first place, Kei would be lying if he said he didn’t want to know you now.

As the sun was setting, Kei’s older brother (who’s name you learned was Akiteru) called him to tell him he had to go home because dinner was ready. Before he left, you grabbed his hand and wrapped your pinky finger around his saying “As long as we shall live, we will always look out for eachother as we are forever bestfriends, agreed?”

back to present -  

In some odd way, this was Kei’s way of looking out for you. He knew what you had was uncurable and would weaken you even more as the days go by, so pretending like nothing was wrong seemed to be best in his eyes.  

Everything you and Kei did was a game or some nostalgic act that you once did when you were children. It was sweet to say the least, seeing Kei all engrossed and determined to make you happy.  

Your alarm rings snapping you out of you daydream, ‘it was time for medicine’ you thought with your face scowling at the thought. Immediately on time, as always, Kei comes In the room with all your medicine thats needed.

“Aren’t you my perfect little nurse Kei” you say teasingly giving him a wink, laughing as you see his face turn red.

“Do you have to do this every time y/n?” he asks rolling his eyes at your childish behaviour.

“Oh I'm just showing love to my best and favourite nurse” you continue laughing at your own words

“Im your only ‘nurse’” he deadpans giving you your medicine as you talk.

“Well that is more reason to make you the best nurse.” you say smiling.

Silence falls between you, and you stare down at your arm watching as your husband gives you the medicine making you frown. “Do we have to keep doing this?” you ask which is probably the 1000th time you’ve asked.

“Of course we do Y/N as I’ve said yesterday and the day before that and the day before that it-”

“But do we really?” you interrupt “I can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep doing this.”

“Do you doubt me Y/N, I can do this forever” he says “ I can take care of you forever”

“But I don’t wan-”

“I’m finished, I’m going to start on dinner” he gets up and leaves the room yelling “I’ll call you when it’s done.”

Sometimes you and Kei have these conversations. And all the time it ends the same way. You complain, he ignores and then you go and have dinner.

You can understand why he doesn’t want to have this conversation. Who would want to hear about their partners complaints about practically being alive. Kei was torn, ever since he met you all he wanted to was to keep you happy. But could he compromise his own happiness for it.

15 year old Y/N - flashback

“Kei Kei, aren’t you excited!” you yell smiling widley

“Excited for what?” he asks, amused by your enthusiasm “it’s just highschool.”

“Well it’s a new highschool! Karasuno high school, to be exact.”

“And that is still just a school.” he says

“Not just any! That’s the school nii-chan went too, and even tho he lie-”

“Let’s not talk about it Y/N” he murmurs “we should go now, don’t want to be late on our first date.”

Going to Karasuno was fun, at the start everyone was pleasant and nice. But after a week or two when you and Kei were still stuck to eachother like glue, people weren’t so pleasant. Kei was like a pop idol, being gorgeous and over 6ft at just the age of 15, caused alot of attention, especially when he was always around you.

At the start, the hate you got was bearable, it was the petty bitchy notes in your locker or just people blatanly talking badly about you infront of you. People didn’t do it when you weren’t around Kei, so when he had volleyball practice (which you were so excited that he joined the team) you were a big target for the bullies to come around.

Kei didn’t really know of the bullying that happened towards you, especially since he was mainly in practice or not around when it happened. But one day in practice he heard some of his teammates, kageyama and hinata who seemed to talking about a student in one of their classes that was always getting picked on by the other girls in the year.

“Yeah and I heard that Nana-san was planning on getting her and her friends to attack Y/N-san soon.”  said Hinata

“Shrimpy, who are they planning on attacking?” Kei asks to make sure he just heard the ginger correctly.

“Oh this lovely person in our class their name is Y/N-san” he says, looking at Kei’s reaction he also asks “Why? Do you know them?”  

Kei doesn’t respond, and immediately leaves the gym, ignoring Hinata’s and the other members of the teams yells of ‘Where are you going tsukishima.’ He didn’t care, he just had to get to you.  

He searched all the classes, asking every student if he knew where you were. Someone directs him to the toilets, where he burst through the door to see the other girls in your year surrounding you and beating you up.  

“What the fuck are you doing to them?” he yells startling the girls.

“T-T-Tsukishima-san" one girl says “It’s not what it looks like.”

“Oh fuck off” he says, with them still frozen in shock “I said go!”  

“And don’t think I don’t know your names either” he calls after them.

He rushes towards your bruised body on the ground and cradles you gently, confused on what to really do. “Oi Kei,” you say weakly catching his attention “I would’ve won if you didn’t come to stop the fight.” you joke making him scoff.

“Whatever you say Y/N.”

After you heal up, Kei already told on the girls that beat you up getting them suspended, and you explain how they were treating you because of their infatuation of him. And how they only did it when he wasn’t around.

Once he learns this information, he decides to quite the volleyball team, to your surprise. But you demands on making him not quit were ignored, as he excused it by saying “I have to make sure you’re always alright remember, and if that means quitting some volleyball team then so be it.”

That was one out of the many times that Kei put his happiness before yours.

Flashback over.

When you first got diagnosed, Kei was immediately researching on it as it was a very rare condition. But sadly, he only found what the doctor already told you both. It was uncurable and your immune system and your body will weaken as the days go by.

Which it did, you were a shell of your past self. It was always shocking for Kei to see, especially with you only being 25. ‘It wasn’t supposed to be this way,’ but he never let you see his sadness.

Whenever you knew Kei was sad you always reminded him “Kei, I may be dying but please don’t cry over me” every time you said, there was a slight undertone of humour in your voice which always worked in boosting Kei’s spirit.

AN: IVE GOTTEN TO THE POINT WHERE I HATE THIS SOOO IM SORRY IN ADVANCE FOR THE SHITTING RUSHED ENDING IM GOING TO PROVIDE FOR YOU LOL.

The days passed and the years went by, and you and Kei were still alive and kicking it. Doing your daily routine of you making some joke, Kei giving you your medicine and then you eating dinner. You eventually stopped complaining, realizing and remembering your promise you gave to Kei at 5 years old in that park. “As long as we shall live, we will always look out for eachother as we are forever bestfriends, agreed?”

Of course you had your rough days, everybody did and it was even harder being sick with a terminal illness. But having Kei to guide you through the storm made It better for you.

However, Kei isnt a miracle worker. He couldn’t save you, noone could. And you both knew that. That didn’t mean it made it any easier when the medicine stopped working and your pain got too hard to bear. Kei couldn’t watch you do this anymore, “the choice is yours” he said with tears in his eyes.  

So you knew what you had to do, you got in your bed pulling Kei with you, and letting him envelope you in a big hug as you both cried.

“I love you,” you say “You know that right?”

“Of course I know that, idiot” he replies “And I love you.”

“Always and forever?”

“Always and forever.”

AN: how did I END UP CRYING WHILST WRITING THIS WHEN IT MADE NO FUCKING SENSE, I WAS TRYING TO DO THIS COOL NOTEBOOK (I HAVENT EVEN WATCHED THE NOTEBOOK) ENDING WHERE ITS AMBIGIOUS AND SHIT AND I JUST GIVE UP OKAY? I APOLOGISE LOOOOOOL. I HOPE YOU ENJOY ATLEAST A SENTENCE OF THIS AT LEAST.

[anntoldst0ries]

Everything else is just the weather

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Noelle Valentine) Word Count: ~5.3k (I sinned!) Summary: Ethan takes Elle out on their “first” date. Category: Fluff Warnings: None

A/N: It has literally taken me ages to finish this fic. To the point that I couldn’t look at it anymore, but here it is. I had it in mind for a really long time and now that OH is back, I feel like I’m ready to show it to the world. As always thank you for your support and I hope you like it!

This fic is part 2 of birthday present for my friend, part 1 is the fan art which you can see here. Once you read the fic, the fan art makes more sense :)

This is my submission for CFWC Silly Love Stories, Day 12: Date night.

Loud knocks resonated throughout the room. 

"Come in!"

"Good morning, Mrs. Peterson.”

“Good morning, Dr Valentine. I think you are the only doctor in this hospital with some sort of manners, everyone else just waltzes in here as if it was a damn barn!”

“Hospital or no hospital, everyone has their right to privacy.”

“Thank you, child. Once again, please call me Faye."

"Alright Faye, but only if you call me Elle.” She smiled sweetly, and the whole room seemed to be suddenly lit by a thousand suns.

“How are you feeling? Are the meds making a difference?"

"They are. I am ready to be discharged today.”

"Not so fast. I am not ready to say goodbye to you yet."

“Why would you possibly like to be lumbered with an old nuisance like me for even a second longer than necessary?”

Elle just laughed and shook her head. The ‘nuisance’, as the elderly lady so lovingly put it, was exactly what she loved about her job. She loved spending time with her patients, she loved their stories and their worldly wisdom. It made her sad to see how many of them thought they didn’t matter or considered themselves and their lives boring. To her, they were anything but. 

Many of Edenbrook’s staff members kept asking themselves: what is it about her? She was a great doctor, no two ways about it, and she was a genuinely nice person. But what was the source of power she had over people? If she woke up one day and decided to start a rebellion, patients would have most certainly followed her, even if it meant they’d be leaving the premises of the hospital with naked butts or trailing their IVs behind them. Doctors, nurses, administration, cleaners and security would follow shortly. She only had to say a word.

And how on Earth was she capable of turning Dr Ramsey, the grizzly bear of Edenbrook, into a benign teddy bear with as little as one look? It was beyond everyone’s apprehension.

Had they spent more time actually observing her, rather than gossiping in the corners, the answer would have unveiled in front of them within minutes.

It was very simple.

Noelle was truly curious about people. She genuinely liked them and was determined to get to know their story, for it helped her diagnose them faster and also satiated the young doctor’s hunger for knowledge.

Patients never felt like “curious cases” or “numbers” in her presence. They were… themselves - people with hopes, dreams, fears, pet peeves and odd habits. They were human. 

So little and yet so much.

Those never touched by serious illnesses often failed to understand that sickness strips you of your dignity and becomes your identity. Your true self becomes covered by this weird, annoying sticker that wouldn’t come off no matter how hard you tried to remove it. 

But this young woman, despite the nature of her profession, somehow managed to notice what was hiding beneath this misleading layer.

Had all these gossipers spoken to her patients, that’s exactly what they would have heard.

"What's happening today?" The older lady asked with a flick of curiosity in her wrinkle-haloed eyes.

"What do you mean, Faye?" The young doctor sounded genuinely baffled by the out-of-the-blue question.

"Well, I am no diagnostician, but I believe I am rather observant and you radiate with happiness. Something special is happening today, am I right?"

"Yeah, you are right." Elle blushed like a teenager caught in a lie. "My boyfriend is taking me on a surprise date today, but he won’t say a word about it, so I'm super excited to find out what he planned for us. He usually isn't one for romantic gestures, so the secrecy is killing me."

"Do you think he's gonna pop the big question?" Faye’s eyes lit up with excitement.

"No, we're not there...yet." Elle faked a smile, but a tone of doubt and sadness coloured her voice. They probably never will be, those things weren’t in the cards for Ethan, as he already stressed once.

But once was enough and she didn’t dare mention the subject again.

"Well, I'm pretty sure he's got some big guns in store, I would if I had a lady like you." - a male patient lying in the bed adjacent to Elle’s patient added smiling flirtatiously. 

"Jerry, you were supposed to focus on getting better, not stealing my girlfriend." They all jumped when a deep baritone echoed throughout the room, hitting present company like a wrecking ball. She must have left the door ajar or Ethan could penetrate the walls soundlessly, because no one heard him coming.

Exactly how long has he been standing there for and how much did he hear?

"Dr. Ramsey, flirting makes your blood flow faster. Isn't it the very definition of life itself?” Jerry’s tone was brisk and lively.

"Well, it definitely isn't the definition of recovery after a heart attack." Ethan used his authoritative doctor’s voice but knew this wasn't a battle he was going to win. Jerry had something he didn't: a couple more decades of life experience under his belt and even the best medical school in the country couldn’t compete with this.  

"Besides, Dr. Ramsey, I don't think that the beautiful Dr. Valentine here fancies old farts like me." 

"That's where you are wrong, Jerry, looks like this is exactly the type I fancy." The two women laughed, however Ethan was far from amused. "Dr. Ramsey is 10 years older than me."

"10 years? What is 10 years in these times? Nothing. When I was getting married 40 years ago, it was something. But today? Look at all them playboys with girls younger than my granddaughter. 10 years is actually a very healthy difference. Men are immature and slower with growing up emotionally. So I'd say you've caught up, Dr. Ramsey, and the two of you are emotional peers now.”

“Thank you for the fascinating lesson in human psychology, Jerry. To think I’ve wasted all this time and money on medical school and no one taught me this.”

“Dr. Ramsey, it’s because schools and useful knowledge are mutually exclusive.”

Elle and Faye were on the verge of bursting out in laughter, but managed to keep their composure and used the non-verbal communication of exchanging glances instead.

Once they made sure their patients had everything they need, Ethan and Elle wished them a good day and promised to stop by in 2 days, as the following day was their day off.

The moment the door closed behind them, Ethan crossed his arms on his chest.

"I lose you from my sight for one second and this happens. 5 more minutes with Jerry and I'd be single again."

"At least no one wants to poke your eyes out for being with me."

"And someone wants to poke yours?"

"Where do I start... nurses, who had a crush on you long before I even set foot in Edenbrook? Female interns? Anyone, who has a pair of functioning eyes and ever looked at you?"

She was adorable when she was doing this, her whole body overtaken by excitement and her hands waving. When she was talking about something really important to her she wasn't just conversing with her mouth, she was doing it with her whole body.

Suddenly, his pager painfully reminded Ethan that this was neither the place nor the time to lose himself in adoration.

"I need to go, I'm completely swamped today and I have my favourite cherry-on-top board meeting. In case I don't see you for the rest of your shift - I’ll pick you up at 7."

He was gone before she was able to form a response. Was it just her or was Dr Ramsey weirdly… nervous?

* * * * * * * *

At 7pm sharp, Ethan Ramsey curled his palm in a fist and gently knocked. The door opened in an instant, as if someone knew he'd been standing there for the past few minutes.

"Ethan! I mean Dr. Ramsey...please come in!" Sienna squeaked with nervous excitement as she let him in.

"Outside of Edenbrook Ethan is just fine, Sienna. If you don't mind me calling you by your first name, of course."

"Mm..mme? No, yes, I mean... Elle is on the balcony." She tried to hide her embarrassment and motioned towards the tall windows surrounding the living room. Some time ago, he would have been oddly proud to have such an intimidating effect on people - nowadays, more than anything, he was amused. Has he really changed so much?

The answer to his question was leaning against the railing, glass of wine in her hand. Gauzy, flowery dress enveloped her frame and tanned skin. 

For Ethan, it was as clear as crystal: summer had the face and scent of Noelle Valentine.

Long before she started leaving her toothbrush in his apartment and sleeping in his old JH t-shirts, Ethan noticed that whenever he laid eyes on her, his whole body started acting in a very irrational way. His doctor’s instincts prompted him to think of all types of biological causes and chemical reactions in the brain. Then, when he sort of admitted to himself it’s not just pure science, Ethan leaned towards the forbidden fruit theory - the more he couldn’t have his drug, the more he was craving it.

But the feeling never disappeared. Whenever he wouldn’t see her for a while - be that an hour, a day, or just when she went to take a shower or make a coffee - the very moment her face came into his view again, he felt his stomach somersaulting.

Every. Single. Time.

It wasn’t any different now.

"Drinking without me?"

She almost dropped the glass when his voice stopped the train of thought in her head. But then she saw his face, the way too seldom relaxed muscles and a barely-there smile.

A perfectly tailored shirt clung to his torso marvellously. If not in medicine, he surely would have made a name for himself in the fashion industry. Fortunately for her, the idea never crossed his mind. 

The warm wind blew in her face, carrying the scent of expensive cologne which overwhelmed her nostrils. She didn’t know this one, so it must have been new. But she did know that smelling it for the whole evening while staring at his handsome face will be a pure torture.

Simply put, she was a goner.

"I don't know why, but I was quite nervous. Had to summon the courage somehow.”

“As you should be. After all, it's not every day that one goes on their first date."

She looked at him as if she’d just been told that a UFO landed on the roof.

“On a what?”

"Well, I was thinking a lot lately about how we never had a first date. Nothing was ever...typical with us. I promised myself I will do my best to fix things that caused you pain or deprived you of the things you deserved. Maybe I cannot fix some immediately, but this one I can, so I will."

Her eyes, overbrimming with affection struck him like thousand lightnings. Thank god a comfortable silence fell between them - had she asked him a question, it would have been clear that right now he is nothing but a simpering moron.

With this in mind, he took his hands from behind his back, holding a small bouquet of pink gerberas.

"These are my favourites." Her face instantly illuminated at the well known sight and smell. "How did you know?”

"I had some amazing helpers."

Elle instantly turned her head left and looked inside, where grinning, Sienna was showing her the thumbs up.

"Wow, now I actually wish I'd downed the whole bottle."

"I'm glad you didn't. I want to go on a date with a woman, not her lifeless body, even though the body itself is very appealing. Shall we?”

“King of compliments…”

* * * * * * * *

"You actually look like you are having a good time, Dr Ramsey.”

"Why wouldn't I? There is alcohol, sitting under the sky definitely has its charm and the company is acceptable." She playfully swatted his arm, the gesture a quick reminder of how comfortable they felt with each other, something he constantly remembered to never take for granted.

“Although I love this, I still don’t understand why you dragged me all the way outside Boston, I’m pretty sure the rooftop bars are pretty acceptable there, too. A bit more crowded though, that’s for sure.”

“Are you complaining about the fact that we have this entire place to ourselves? I know the owner and he was indebted to me.”

“Of course he was.” Looks like the whole town is indebted to Ethan freakin’ Ramsey.

“With regards to why I brought you here… you’ll just have to wait and see.”

Gosh. She couldn’t decide whether the mysterious side of Ethan Ramsey was hot as hell or annoying as hell. But she didn’t really have time to contemplate, because her companion asked her a question.

“Why did you become a doctor?” The ocean eyes pierced her to the core and she had a feeling that even if she was the best actress in the world, there was no way she’d be able to hide something from this man.

“That’s a terrible change of subject. Also, I must have told you like a million times already.”

“No, you never told me.”

When she looked at him and really, really thought about it… she suddenly realised Ethan was right. Elle told the story so many times she sort of… assumed she told Ethan, too. 

“Are you sure you want to hear it today? It’s a pretty sad story, a mood killer I’d say.”

“It’s what makes you you, so yes, I want to hear all about it - the good, the bad and the indifferent.”

“I’ll tell you, but I need to ask something first. Why now? We’ve known each other for a while and you just… I just sort of assumed this isn’t the type of conversation you’d like to hold.”

“You’ve hit the nail on the head.” Ethan’s expression was gentle, not a hint of irony in his voice. “I’ve known you for a while now, but there are still so many things about you that I don’t know. At first, I didn’t want to ask, because asking these questions meant admitting that there is something more between us. What a fail would that be, after I’ve mastered the art of denial.” He laughed, but it wasn’t a bitter or a nervous laugh, it was a genuine banter between them, as the British half of her soul liked to call it. “But you made me want to dig deeper.”

Was it the heat that made her catch her breath, or did it have nothing to do with the temperature?

“Plus, this is sort of what first dates are for, right? I’m sorry for skipping right to the more complex questions. It’s not that I don’t want to know what you were afraid of as a child, I want to know all the details… but it feels like the atmosphere calls for something…bigger.”

So she told him all about her friend, how she fell ill, how she couldn’t be saved and how the experience wreaked havoc on her whole life, tears glistening in her eyes at the mere memory of the events that shaped who she was today.

Ethan listened, his whole body tense and eyes transfixed. She was giving him one of the most fragile parts of her and he had to make sure his hands were there to catch, carry and care for this treasure.

“And that’s when I realised that if I focused on becoming the best doctor I could be, then maybe one day, I’d be that person who has an answer, who can solve a mystery and save a relationship that means the world to someone. Sometimes, people don’t realise that when a person dies, it’s not only them that’s gone. The part of someone who stays, who has to deal with the whole ‘me after you’ - that part is gone, too. So for me, in a way, this meant saving more than one life.”

For a couple of seconds he didn’t move. Then, without saying a single word and with an unreadable expression he got up and offered her a hand, which she silently accepted. He led her to the railing, where the sun was slowly sinking into the boundless waters of Quincy Bay.

His lips found the all too well known way to her forehead, placing a loving kiss on her delicate skin.

“I am so proud of you.” There was something so mesmerising in his whisper, sending a shiver down her spine.

“As a mentor or as a boyfriend?”

“Both. I want you to know that your dedication to people who rely on you is astounding and hardly present in doctors your age. Or any age, for that matter.”

“Wow, Dr Ramsey, smooth. Trying to hit on me with a recycled pick-up line used on a national TV? No wonder you didn’t have too many girlfriends.”

“No, I didn’t. But I believe everyone has a limit of luck they can get per life. And looking at you, I got a couple of lifetimes worth of luck.”

This was enough to render her speechless. She smiled and at this very moment he knew he would do anything to make her smile like this. She wrapped him around her pinky finger and suddenly his whole existence revolved around finding ways of seeing her curve these breathtaking lips as often as possible and making sure he is the reason she smiles… not crying her eyes out.

Although the other didn’t know, because none of them said it out loud, they both thought the same thing.

This feels so right. 

There isn’t a hint of awkwardness in the fact that they can go from being serious or emotionally vulnerable to funny and teasing in seconds.

In one effortless movement, Ethan spun her and pressed her back against his chest.  Then, he started placing a series of tender kisses along her jawline and the crook of her neck, slowly moving towards her shoulder. 

Come on, just say it Ramsey. It doesn’t get any better than this.

He wrapped her palm in his and pointed them towards the sky. 

“There they are - the Little Dipper and the Big Dipper.” Their intertwined fingers were jumping from one tiny flashing point to the other, as if they were playing connect the dots. “And that’s Orion’s Belt.”

“I really don’t get why at this point I’m still surprised that you’re good at everything.”

Elle was drunk on his every word, as this annoying trait of Ethan Ramsey being the know-it-all was actually one of her favourite things about him. 

As for Ethan, he couldn’t help but think that life wasn’t perfect and was never going to be. But this - this moment - it was in fact perfect. Why take chances of ruining it, when so many things can go wrong?

What if she doesn't say it back?

What if she's just gonna laugh at him or tell him he had it all wrong.

What if he misinterpreted everything and she never thought about him this way?

He was terrified of being this exposed. The last person he loved so much left him without batting an eyelid and disappeared for 25 fucking years.

Maybe it was better to live in a perfect illusion than a reality in which there was even a 0.01% chance she doesn't love him back.

So they both drowned in the moment, drifted in the sea of rapture, lost in the illusion that it can all last forever.

It was her who broke the silence.

“I’m getting a bit cold, is it ok if we call it a night?”

“Right, of course.”

“Thank you for the first date, I loved it.”

Handing her his jacket (her favourite, the dark green leather one) Ethan was furious at himself. 

Maybe he was broken. Maybe he will remain broken forever. Maybe that’s the way it must be.

“Do you want to spend the night at mine?” The question slipped his tongue before he was able to fully reflect on it.

“At yours? Unless you have some secret place I don’t know about, just a quick reminder - I live there too.”

“Since this was our first date, I thought it was a gentlemanly thing to ask.”

“In that case… I am afraid I have the ‘after the 3rd date’ sleepover rule, Dr Ramsey.”

* * * * * * * *

The morning came all too soon and the hot, ruthless rays of the rising sun announced that Ethan is now way past his regular wake up and get up time. He barely slept, tossing and turning, replaying every second of the evening in his head.

His hand mindlessly reached for what he hoped to be the familiar curves and softness of the body he adored so much. 

But his palm hit the mattress with a loud thud. The bed was empty. 

The all-too-well known feeling of hopelessness slipped into the doctor's mind with ease. What did he expect? He was acting weird the previous day. First date, what a stupid idea. She must have realised something is wrong with him and finally left.

But before he was able to fully wallow in the mud of pity, the feeling was soon replaced by an old friend Ethan haven’t heard from for a long time.

Panic. 

Where was she? Is she ok? What if something happened to her and he was just sleeping like a log instead of being there to protect her. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing her… again. Something grabbed his chest in a tight grip and wouldn’t let go. 

Scenes flashed before his eyes, vivid and bright. Their hands touching through the glass wall. Her hand cupping his cheek through the layer of hazmat suit.

He got out of bed at the speed of sound and started running around the apartment, but she was nowhere to be seen. 

Suddenly, he noticed.

The balcony door was opened wide. 

Shit.

Heart in his mouth, Ethan crossed the distance between his kitchen island and the balcony door in the blink of an eye. 

Elle was just serving pancakes outside. The goddamn pancakes. The only thing he couldn’t cook. The one thing she kept teasing him about and he rolled his eyes every time she did.

God, he promised himself he will never learn how to make them, if it meant she would just tease him forever.

She was smiling as widely as ever, putting the sun and everything else in the world to shame. Ethan was still a bit shaken and his uneven breathing gave him away. Elle finally noticed his presence.

“Good morning, I was just about to—“

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They both froze. 

The tension in the silence that had just set in was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

But the silence didn’t last long. As one man, with eyes full of disbelief, they both murmured simultaneously:

“What did you just say?”

This time, he felt obliged to break the silence.

"I...I...I mean, I…" 

Damn it, get it together, idiot.

"I didn't mean to…”

Great, Ramsey, keep digging an even deeper hole for yourself, then crawl in and stay there forever.

"You didn't mean to say it?”

"Yes. No. I mean, damn it, I am making things worse, aren't I?”

She didn’t set him straight.

"The thing is, I wanted to say it yesterday. I had it all planned, I took you for a first date and I wanted to say it for the first time yesterday.”

"Why did it have to be yesterday?”

“Give me a minute.”

She just rolled her eyes, but Ethan didn’t have a chance to notice before disappearing inside. A few moments later he re-emerged, his face and torso covered by a neatly wrapped, rectangle-shaped object.

"What's this?"

"Something you should have unpacked yesterday, but then... life happened."

Elle sat down on cold tiles, her hands trembling with a mix of fear and excitement. And just like he did months ago, he took her hand in his, only this time he cupped his own cheek with her palm and placed the most tender kiss on the inside of her hand.

It was her favourite medicine, a remedy for all things wrong. 

He sat beside her and nodded at the mysterious package. With impatience growing inside of her, Elle has torn the paper up.

Inside was a dark blue, framed print - the colour of it an instant reminder of her favourite set of irises.

She studied everything with intent. A circle must have been representing the earth and the irregular dots and lines must have been the stars and constellations. 

"A map of the sky? That's beautiful, Ethan."

He knew immediately that although her delight was sincere, she had absolutely no clue what she was looking at and why she was looking at it.

“It's not just any map of the sky.” Ethan explained gently, hints of pride colouring his voice. “It's a map of the Boston sky from exactly a year ago. Well, a year and a day.” He smiled faintly, now a shade of sorrow in his enchanting voice.

Silence. Was she supposed to know what that meant?

“Aren’t you full of mysteries today? Ok, you need to throw me a lifebelt here. What's so special about the sky from a year and a day ago?”

“For the world? Probably not too much. For me? Everything.”

At this stage of their relationship, she knew a lot about Ethan’s behaviours, triggers, his body language. And not just a relationship as a couple, but also everything that came before Ethan became someone she was running through life with (the life of two doctors in one of the busiest and most prestigious hospitals was certainly not a walk in the park).

But it still fascinated her how his demeanour changed whenever the subject was serious, whenever he was talking about something that truly mattered to him. It was as if he’d stripped down of all the layers and let her look into his bare soul. These rare moments of vulnerable intimacy meant more to her than any night of passion they ever shared.

Her eyes turned to him in pledge, because as much as she wanted to, Dr Valentine still couldn’t fully comprehend the scene unraveling in front of her.

“Read the description below the map.”

Dear God, did she actually hear shyness in his voice?

She skimmed through the image again, and there it was, right at the bottom. Elle was so focused on trying to decipher the meaning of the image that she didn’t notice the words below. 

The words which explained everything.

I WILL NEVER FORGET THE DAY 

THAT MADE ME REALISE

YOU ARE THE SKY

EVERYTHING ELSE IS JUST THE WEATHER

Her emerald eyes brimmed with hot tears as the meaning dawned upon her. Words were very unnecessary, but now that he summoned the courage to speak, there was still a lot he wanted to put into words. He gently took the frame from her hands and leaned it securely against the wall.

Taking her palms into his, he placed delicate kisses on her knuckles, his lips tracing the shape of these two tiny hands, which held all of him. Everything he had, everything he was and was going to be, he placed in those two fragile palms, with an unspoken hope that they will hold him and catch him if he falls. 

“Look at me.” The words were pulsing with care and affection, even though his voice coloured them in serious and desperate shades.

“One year ago… and a day from today…” He smiled and she felt the warmth spilling inside of her. The power he had over her was beyond the limits of understanding. 

Little did she know that the object of her affection was lost in the same thought.

“I was standing exactly where we stand right now. It was dark and the view wasn’t that spectacular.” He freed one of his hands, but only to make contact with her cheek to caress it slowly. In this moment, he had to touch her any way that he could. With his hands. With his eyes. With his soul.

“But I always found comfort in staring at the sky. When I was at med school, I had countless moments of doubt, I wanted to quit more times than I can count. So I used to go to a secluded place at night and stare at the sky. It made me realise how, in one respect, I am just a grain of sand in the universe and how little my problems are. Funnily enough, this thought actually brought me a sense of comfort. If I am as little as I think I am, then what is the harm in being brave and taking chances? A wise man once said… There are some things that are worth any risk.” 

She giggled through the tears, the sweet sound soothing his shattered nerves.

“I was standing right here and I never felt more miserable in my life. And I couldn’t understand why, for God’s sake. I was thriving at work. I had everything figured out and planned. I was pushing you to be the best you could be and I watched you turn into someone who would one day be far greater than me. But you looked so sad, so… broken. You already know I can’t just gloss over you feeling down. The sadder you were, the more miserable I felt. One evening, I was having a glass of scotch and I remembered some tiny exchange we’ve had earlier in the day, literally a chit chat. No idea what it was about. But I remembered your smile and your laugh. Every tiniest move of your muscles, your eyes, how your hair set around your face. It made me happy. Even if it was just for 5 minutes, knowing that you are happy in that very moment filled my chest with lightness. That’s when I realised I want to be the person who makes you feel this way.”   

She blinked the first time in a while, as if she was afraid to make the tiniest movement, afraid it will all disappear and turn out to be a dream. Giant teardrops rolled down her angelic face, trailing the path of joy.

“Noelle Sky Valentine, I love you. I have loved you for a long time but I was too stubborn to let myself give in. And that, as you already know, will always be one of my biggest regrets.” 

“Ethan, I don’t… I’m so sorry, I just don’t know what to say.” Her voice was saturated with emotions.

“I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for.“ 

“I love you too, Ethan Jonah Ramsey. You are by far the most complicated and stubborn person I have ever met. You are… everything I never knew I looked for in another human being.”

Once he heard her say it back, he couldn't get enough of it and a lifetime didn't feel like enough to tell her he loves her, as many times as he wished to.

“But I do have to mention this, Dr Ramsey… from the first date to a love confession in less than 24 hours? I’m sorry, I think this is moving too fast.”

“I’ll show you too fast…but I’m afraid we need to get inside, I don’t want the whole world and its wife to see how I teach you a thing or two.”

Ethan scooped her in his arms and carried her inside, despite her mock protests. He smiled and corrected himself. 

He wanted for the whole world to see.

Because the whole world was right there. 

In his arms.

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

If you’ve gotten this far, I need you to know you are absolutely amazing 💗

Tag 🏷 list: @jamespotterthefirst @romewritingshop @romereadingshop @genevievemd @starrystarrytrouble @terrm9 @mrs-ramsey @maurine07 @gryffindordaughterofathena @mercury84choices @lovingramsey @qrkowna @openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations @lisha1valecha​ @oldminniemcg​ @iemcpbchoices​ @tsrookie​ @fayeswiftie​ @levinsdowneyy​ @brooks-eden​ @poudredevie​ @queencarb​ @caseyvalentineramsey​ @lucy-268​ @tenaciousdeputydreamfriend​ @alwaysmychoices-sideblog​ @whippedforethanfreakingramsey​ @schnitzelbutterfingers​ @the-pale-goddess​ @lem-20​ @wingedhairstylemusicweasel​ @liaromancewriter​ @ohchoices​ @archxxronrookie​

[honeypirate]

my sun and stars

Izuku Midoirya x Reader 

In my head theyre in their last year of school and end up fighting a bad villian, deku saves reader and ends up getting hurt, leading to a kind of confession.  

flufffyyyyy best friends to more

Heavily unedited so I apologize for the mistakes I know are there somewhere.

The girls of class 1A, Aoyama, and you, sat cross legged on the floor of Deku’s room. A book on the floor between you all that explains the chemical makeup of what you needed “thank you so much for this Yao-Momo. It really is a help since it’s so late and I don’t know where to even get these.” she smiles “no problem, this is an amazing idea” the little plastic pieces start to fall from her skin, onto the floor around her. You squeal in excitement and start to pick up the pieces, grabbing the sticky tack that she made first, and begin hanging the plastic pieces all over the room. You didn’t finish until early in the morning, around 3am. You were happy even though you knew you had to get up early to go to the hospital

Your neck ached but you didn’t care, you kept your hand in his and your forehead against your hand as you rested in the hospital. Your best friend, Izuku Midoriya, has been in a coma for the past few days, you made a huge fuss and now they let you stay with him however long you wanted if you just went home at night to shower and sleep. School has been out for the past few days because of rebuilding from the attack, Midoriya only got hurt because he was protecting you and you felt guilty because of it. You wanted to be with him as long as possible until he woke up, and the teachers knew that, Aizawa was there as long as you were but he gave you space, sitting outside of the door. He walked you back to school at the end of the night, and was there in the morning when you left the dorm, the travel to and fro was always silent but you were grateful for the company. 

“y/n, what are you doing here?” your head snaps up from the bed “you’re awake!” you say and smile, but your smile falls away when you see the disgusted look on his face and the way he whips his hand away from yours “oh..” you whisper, your heart beginning to race. “What are YOU doing here?” he asks again, his eyes turning dark, “I uhh, i wanted to be here when you woke up, i was worried..” you withdraw into the chair you were sitting in, feeling smaller than a pinhead, “don't tell me you’re IN LOVE with me?! Don't make me laugh” and he does, long and loud, hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. You feel tears burn your eyes and quickly scoot your chair back, popping to your feet and trying to run out the door, but the door won't open when you push it. You try to force it open and it doesn’t budge, your hand freezes when his laughter stops and he speaks again “i never should have hurt myself for you. You’re not worth it. It should be you in this hospital bed” you gasp and tears start to flow down your cheeks, the door immediately flies open and all of your friends are outside the door, laughing and shoving their way inside while chanting “it should have been you” you take a step back and trip, falling on your butt and choking on a sob. You scoot farther back until youre up against the wall, your friends walking slowing towards you and Midoriya standing from his hospital bed, walking over to you with a smirk before crouching down in front of you“D..deku. Why?”  you sob as you look into his dark green eyes you loved, he chuckles “because I could never love a person like you” 

You woke up with a gasp in a cold sweat, panting and your heart racing, the dream you were just in still fresh in your mind. You throw your covers off and go to open the window in your room, the cool night air cooling off your body as you took deep breaths to calm yourself down. “That was so rude of you, brain” you whisper to nobody and then get back in bed, reaching over and checking your phone, 4:04am. Your alarm would go off in three hours but you doubt that you would get any more sleep tonight. 

The walk to the hospital was the same as all the others, only thing heard was your footsteps on the pavement, when you get to his hospital room you stop, hand on the door, and frown. “Is something wrong?” Mr. Aizawa asks and you shake your head. “Just a bad dream.” you whisper and then turn your face towards him “thank you for always walking with me. I really appreciate it” he nods and you finally enter the room. 

You tell his unconscious form about your dream, “and yeah” you yawn “i didn't sleep after that.” you pull your chair across the room to be by the bed, sitting down and pulling a blanket out from your bag and a book you had to read for your class, pulling your knees up and settling in. “i really hope you wake up soon, Deku. I miss you.” 

A chorus of beeping is what woke him up, his eyes slowly fluttering open, the groan in his throat dying before it can come out when he catches sight of your unconscious form sleeping curled up in the chair next to his bed, your peaceful sleeping face giving him butterflies. “She’s here every day, all day, leaving only to go home and sleep before coming back in the morning” his eyes moved over to the doorway where the voice was “mr Aizawa!” he says in a whisper. Aizawa comes in quietly, looking at you and your book that fell to the ground, “you should have seen the fuss that they made on the first day when we tried to send them home. They really care about you” he covers his mouth as he yawns and then shoves his hands in his pocket. Izuku’s eyes go back over to you as he sits up quietly, stifling the groan of his soar muscles, he doesn’t know what to say, the fact that you care so much about him makes his heart sore, he's been in love with you for so long but felt convinced you saw him as only a friend. This makes him hope you see him as more.

A hand on your shoulder makes you up, you open your eyes and see the dark green eyes from your dream. You gasp, your eyes widening and your heart beat spiking as you sit up straight in the chair, trying to back away from him but the back of the chair stopping you. “Hey hey it’s just me it’s okay” his eyes, you realized, weren’t dark at all. But filled with sweetness and a kindness that you were so familiar with. The beautiful green eyes you loved, nothing like the ones from your dream. You relax and then laugh awkwardly “sorry. Bad dreams recently” you shove the blanket off your lap as excitement finally makes its way throughout your body. You throw your arms around the boy's neck and hug him gently but quickly. “Are you okay? Why are you out of bed?!” one of his arms, the one without the IV, wraps around your back “i’m okay. I wanted to wake you, I’m sorry i couldn’t wait any longer” you pull back and smile as you look into his eyes, your hands staying on his neck “how long have you been up? You should have woken me at the exact moment. Izuku I missed you so much you have no idea how worried i’ve been” you from and he chuckles, reaching up to push your frown into a smile “you looked so peaceful and lovely i couldn't bring myself to. Mr. Aizawa has told me a little about how worried you’ve been.” you help him stand and help him back to his bed, your face flushed knowing that Aizawa talked about you. 

 “Has the doctor come in?” he nods “she told me everything and answered all my questions, and the nurses too. They all love you, you know. Raved about how sweet you were and how moved they are that you’ve been so dedicated to me. Half of them think we’re dating” you laugh uncomfortably, turning away to pull the chair closer before you sat down again “is that so?” you say.

“What was your bad dream about? Will you tell me?” his voice was soft and you sighed, your eyes moving up from the stain on the chair to meet his green eyes again, “it wasn’t nice and it is really dumb, are you sure you want to hear it?” he nods and you nod as well, looking down at your hands in your lap, turning them to look at your palms as you relay the dream to him, leaving out the part where he told you he could never love you, though, didn't want to confess just yet. “Please look at me” his voice was quiet, you looked slowly up into his eyes, he’s smiling softly and his eyes are gentle “it isn’t dumb. and I want to protect you. I hate seeing you get hurt. I would never ever think like that. Okay?” you nod and smile, a load felt like it was taken from your shoulders, you didn’t even feel like it bothered you this much. “Thank you, Izuku” you clear your throat and begin to fold your blanket in your lap “do you know when you can go home?” he sighs “not till tomorrow morning, have to keep me overnight for observations” you smile and take his hand on the bed “i am so glad you’re awake and okay” his heart is racing as hard ad yours was and his cheeks begin to flush so he looks away from you and changes the topic. 

You spent the rest of the day with him, catching up on what he missed and playing some card games. You were so relieved he was okay and coming home. The rest of the class showed up as well his Mom (who stayed the rest of the day with you both) and the class brought so many watermelons you didn't know what to do with half of them. You ended up giving them to some of the hospital staff. 

The next morning you met Izuku at the hospital to go home with him, smiling and bouncing on your toes, excited to show him what you did in his room. When you get there you ask him to close his eyes as you enter, he laughs but still follows your orders when your hand goes up to cover his eyes. 

“I hope you like it Izuku” you whisper before you drop your hand, you left the light on all night and brought in your blackout curtains to make sure the whole room was pitch black. When he opened his eyes he was greeted with the most beautiful display of glow in the dark stars and planets, exact constellations spread out around his ceiling and walls, all of the ones you guys found together one night after a big fight with a villain when you both couldn’t sleep and you snuck out to the roof.

 His hand finds yours in the dark and he laces your fingers together “y/n I…” you swallow hard, your stomach filled with knots of excitement and butterflies “do you like it?” you whisper and he chuckles “I love it. It’s so amazing” you feel relieved “i’m so glad” he pulls you into his arms into a hug that feels like it reached your very core. 

Something about the darkness made you feel bolder, maybe because you couldn’t see his face, you grab fistfuls of his shirt across his back, burying your face into his neck whispering “you are my sun and stars, Izuku” his heart stopped and he froze, did you really say that or is this a dream? It takes him a good second to restart his heart and pull you tighter against his chest. “And you are mine” he says and pulls back, reaching up to cup your cheek in the dark, his thumb tracing your bottom lip before he leans down, pressing his lips gently to yours.

[megalony]

Family of six- Part 4

I’ve finally managed to finish the next part of this Murderer! Ben Hardy series so I hope you will all enjoy it, feedback is always lovely.

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

Series taglist: @writeroutoftime​​

Series masterlist

Summary: Ben and (Y/n) have a son together and are pregnant again but things take a worrisome turn when (Y/n) develops severe morning sickness and they find out they’re having triplets.

Enjoy.

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

"When can we go see mummy?" Billy's voice was quiet and tired but there was curiosity in his words. The five-year-old looked up at Ben with tired eyes that had been staring at the same walls for the past two hours now. Every person that walked past them was a source of interest for Billy because he could think up a story for them and a name like they were characters in a movie he was watching to cure his boredness.

"We'll get to see her soon buddy, she's just with the doctor right now."

Ben rested his chin on top of Billy's head as he tightened his arms around his boy who was perched on his lap leaning back into Ben in a way that showed he was growing tired. For the first half an hour Billy had been silent but content sitting on Ben's lap wrapped up in a comforting hug but then the longer they waited the more uneasy Billy seemed to feel. He wanted to go see (Y/n) and see if she was better and the waiting made him anxious much like it seemed to do to Ben.

To a certain extent Ben didn't mind the waiting, it felt better to wait a long time because it meant that (Y/n) was being treated and checked over. But then again, the longer Ben waited the more it made him suspicious that something had gone wrong for it to be taking this long to get her settled and in a stable condition. Ben didn't want Billy to be here waiting and panicking with him but Ben couldn't take him home in case the doctor came out to talk to him. As soon as the doctor had talked to Ben he would let Billy see her and then take him home.

Ben still had to ring his parents and tell them what was happening, even though they lived almost an hour away he knew that he and (Y/n) would need some help and they were the closest people to help that Ben could think of. (Y/n)'s parents were close by but they weren't on speaking terms with (Y/n) since the moment she got engaged to Ben so he couldn't call them.

This situation was going to go one of two ways, either (Y/n) had suffered a miscarriage and Ben would definitely need his parents around so he could look after (Y/n) and help her cope. Or if they hadn't lost this pregnancy they were going to need a lot more help considering they were only four months along and something like this had happened so early on.

"Is mummy gonna get better?" Billy leaned a bit further into Ben's chest but he wouldn't look up at Ben, a sure sign he was uncomfortable with the topic and was afraid of the answer he was going to receive. He simply looked down at Ben's hand and started slowly drawing patterns on the back of his hand, tracing the pad of his finger over the tattoos on Ben's knuckles. It was fascinating to Billy to look at all of Ben's tattoos but it did sometimes confuse him. Ben had so many different tattoos covering his skin but then Billy would see other people and his friend's parents and wonder why they didn't have half as many as Ben did.

"Course she is, that's why the doctor's looking after her."

"You said when mummy's ill you look after her."

Ben tipped his head back against the wall and rubbed at his eyes for a moment to try and relieve the headache he could feel forming behind his eyes. He didn't like how anxious he could see Billy becoming and he hated that he couldn't do anything about it until he had managed to speak to a doctor.

"Buddy, I'll always look after your mum but when she's sick like this a doctor needs to look after her and give her medicine which I can't do-"

"You give mummy medicine! You give her her tablets, why can't you look after mummy?"

"Baby calm down." Ben hooked his hands under Billy's arms and gently lifted him up so he could turn him around on his lap, wanting his son facing him. He could see the panic building up in Billy's eyes and the desperation creeping in the tone of his voice.

Billy associated hospitals with death and danger and it was somewhere that made him feel unsafe and uncomfortable. When he had a chest infection last year and had to have fluids drained from his lungs it hadn't been a good experience for him considering he had only been four at the time. And he knew Ben had had family go to hospital and never come out again. He didn't want (Y/n) to be here because it seemed like a bad sign to Billy, he didn't quite understand that people went to hospital even when they had only small or minor problems.

Whenever Billy was sick or ill (Y/n) and Ben looked after him and whenever (Y/n) was ill or upset or had any kind of problem, Billy knew Ben always tried to do something to help. He looked after her and calmed her down, Billy wanted Ben to look after (Y/n) and no one else.

"I do give your mum medicine, I sort her tablets out and I look after her, but I don't make those tablets or tell her which ones she needs and maybe she needs some new tablets for now which is why she needs to see the doctor. But when she's better and comes home I'll be the one looking after her I swear. She's gonna be fine baby, you don't have to worry."

Ben rested his chin on Billy's temple and sighed when he felt his boy burrow into his chest like he was trying to curl up and disappear. He hoped his words were enough to calm Billy down because there wasn't much else that Ben could say or do to try and make him feel more at ease and settled right now. He wanted to be able to tell Billy that (Y/n) was going to be perfectly fine and that she could go home soon but he doubted (Y/n) would be going home for a few days at least and he knew she wasn't going to be fine for a few days or even weeks.

But for now he could only tell Billy that (Y/n) was getting the help she needed and it was going to make her better in time.

A few minutes of silence passed between the father and son before Ben looked to the left and instantly recognised the doctor walking towards them as being the one who was now treating (Y/n).

"Buddy, why don't you play a game on my phone for a minute so I can go talk to your mum's doctor?"

Billy looked up at Ben with wide eyes but nodded in agreement all the same, he let Ben pick him up and move him onto the seat next to him before he got his phone out of his pocket. Ben had two phones, one for work and one for personal use which he always let Billy use to play games on. There was no way that Ben could let Billy use his work phone in case he saw something he shouldn't or it rang and Billy tried to answer it. He didn't know what Ben did specifically at the club and Ben wanted to keep it that way.

Getting to his feet, Ben walked a few paces away from the waiting area and over to the doctor who had a warm smile on his face but it didn't make Ben feel any more at ease.

"Mr Hardy?"

"Yeah, is my wife okay?" Ben slipped his hands into his back pockets to stop himself from clenching his hands into fists out of nervousness. He needed to feel like he was in control of every situation or else he didn't know what to do and right now there was nothing about this situation that Ben could control and help with.

"She's awake now. We've put your wife on an IV drip due to how dehydrated she was when you brought her in and she has anti-emetics going straight into her bloodstream so that it actually stays in her system."

With (Y/n) not being able to keep anything down it was the only and easiest option to just have the fluids go straight into her bloodstream along with the medication that will ease her constant sickness feeling. She won't keep throwing up or gagging or generally feeling sick with the anti-emetics and with them going straight into her blood rather than her stomach it meant they could get through her system and work without being thrown up. That was a big relief to Ben to know that (Y/n) could finally have the medication and have it work for once.

"What about the pregnancy?" Ben wasn't stupid, he knew that with the state (Y/n) was in she could have easily miscarried with how dehydrated she was when he found her earlier and if he didn't get to her sooner (Y/n) herself could have become a lot worse off.

"The pregnancy doesn't seem to have been affected. Your wife will be monitored for the next week or two as she is still at risk of miscarrying but with her now having fluids and proteins straight into her system there shouldn't be any problems with the babies."

Ben nodded before he tipped his head down to look at the floor, needing a moment to gather himself and his thoughts. It had crossed his mind more than once about what he would do or say if they lost this pregnancy. Triplets wasn't what they had been expecting or what they initially wanted in the beginning. But they still wanted to have kids and neither Ben nor (Y/n) wanted to lose any of the three new lives they had created.

"We need to keep her in for observation for at least a week so we can get her fluid levels up and get your wife to start eating and monitor the pregnancy and she may need to stay for longer, depending on how quickly she recovers."

"Can I go see her now?"

"Of course."

Ben needed no more than that to make him turn on his heels and head over to where Billy was at contently playing a game on his phone. He scooped Billy up into his arms, letting him continue playing the level of the game he was focusing on.

"Alright buddy, we're off to see your mum now and then I'm gonna take you home, sound good?" He settled Billy on his hip, taking his phone back the moment Billy handed it over, no longer interested in the phone now he knew he could go and see (Y/n). The waiting hadn't been too bad for Billy, he was easily content by looking at his surroundings, his mind had the ability to run away with him and he could sit with his thoughts. But it was the worry of not knowing if (Y/n) was okay that had been hard on Billy.

Ben knew his son had been unsettled and shocked by seeing (Y/n) in such a state. He was very close to (Y/n) so finding her in the bathroom like that and having to see her so ill was frightening for the five year old and it hurt Ben to see his son be so distressed like he had been today.

Neither of them knew what to expect when they entered (Y/n)'s hospital room, although Ben had been told (Y/n) was awake part of him expected her to be asleep or half conscious like she had been earlier.

Ben rubbed his hand up and down Billy's back as they both looked over at (Y/n) the moment they entered the room. (Y/n) still looked as pale as she had done when Ben found her earlier in the bathroom. She could barely keep her eyes open but as he got closer Ben realised that her lips weren't chapped or pale in colour anymore and she didn't have a cold sweat anymore. It was surprising to Ben that (Y/n) was awake right now when she had only been barely lucid earlier and it surprised him even more that she hadn't miscarried. As much as he was relieved and overjoyed that (Y/n) was still pregnant, it was surprising because of how dehydrated she was and how little she had eaten.

There was a drip taped to her left hand and one taped into a vein in her right arm which Ben knew were both for the fluids she needed and the anti-emetics, both of which would be going straight into her bloodstream. There was a monitor checking her heart rate which was thankfully silent at the moment so there was no background noise to focus on.

"Mummy!" Billy started to wriggle in Ben's arms, feeling a desperate urge to scramble over to (Y/n). It had been little over two hours since he had last seen her but Billy was yearning to burrow into (Y/n)'s arms and reassure himself that she was okay.

"Hey baby." (Y/n)'s voice was scratchy and very quiet but the tired smile on her lips was enough to calm Billy right down and make him almost jump out of Ben's arms and onto the bed. He crawled his way up the bed until he was level with (Y/n) and flung his arms around her neck, burrowing into her side when he felt her arms cocooning around him like a safety blanket.

"Buddy be careful with your mum, mind the wires."

Ben leaned over the pair of them so that he could help Billy move under the drips rather than laying on them like he was so that he didn't constrict the fluids (Y/n) needed. When he was sure that Billy wasn't laying on any wires or tubes, Ben sat down in the seat next to the bed.

He could feel his heart beating just that little bit faster in his chest at the sight in front of him. It was normal for Ben to find Billy curled up next to (Y/n) o the sofa or in bed, as much as he loved following Ben around like a lost puppy, he was always attaching himself to (Y/n). But it made something inside of Ben churn to see Billy curled up against (Y/n) when she looked as ill as she did and when she was laid in a hospital bed. It was like Ben was looking at a familiar photo but the background was different or something was missing and it was making him feel uneasy.

"You better now mummy?" Billy tilted his head up so his chin was perched on (Y/n)'s shoulder and the way he looked up at her with puppy dog eyes made her heart melt in her chest. It was as if he was willing for her to be better so they could all go home when deep down he knew (Y/n) wasn't going to be coming home tonight.

"I feel a bit better now baby, but I can't come home just yet." (Y/n) slowly started to card her finger through Billy's hair to try and calm him down when he frowned and looked like he was about to cry.

"Why? Daddy said he can look after you-"

"Buddy don't start that again, please. You know your mum has to stay here and get better before she comes home. The doctor will look after your mum and I'll look after you."

Ben didn't want to go through this again, he knew Billy was just desperate for them all to go back home where he felt safer and more at ease but right now that just couldn't happen. Ben couldn't make (Y/n) better by magic and neither could the doctors and if she went home right now all that would happen would be a repeat of today. (Y/n) wouldn't eat because she wouldn't have the medicine going straight into her vein and she would lose fluids. It was very clear that if she lost anymore fluids they were in danger of losing her and not just the babies.

"What about baby, is baby okay?" Billy still looked unsure and rather deflated at the news that (Y/n) wasn't coming home with them yet but he was clearly trying his best to stay positive. He slowly moved his hand and looked down to (Y/n)'s small bump that he started to rub like he was soothing the baby and making sure they were okay.

Neither (Y/n) nor Ben had the heart or the courage to tell Billy just yet that it wasn't just one baby. They both knew that the news of three new siblings all at once wasn't going to be exactly what he wanted to hear. The five year old did want siblings but he also liked being an only child because he got the attention he wanted from both his parents. Three new babies in the house was going to steal the attention he had so far and it wouldn't be as fun as he thought having a sibling would be.

"Yeah, the baby's okay."

"Can you play a game on my phone again for a minute buddy just so I can talk to your mum before we go home?"

When Billy nodded, Ben fished his personal phone out from his pocket and handed it to Billy when the five year old sat up on the bed. He planted a loud kiss to (Y/n)'s cheek before he slowly scrambled off the bed and sat down on the chair next to the door to give his parents some space to talk.

"I left you for one morning and I end up getting Billy calling me cause you collapsed in the bathroom. Why didn't you tell me how bad you were?"

Ben watched the way (Y/n)'s eyes flicked down to look at her hands which were resting on her stomach so she didn't have to look at Ben's burning gaze. She knew he wasn't telling her off or angry with her but she knew that he was uneasy about this. Billy had to call him and tell him to come home and that was something that had never happened before and that Ben didn't even consider would happen. If (Y/n) just told him how badly she felt in the morning he would have stayed and could have been there when she collapsed instead of her being home alone with Billy.

"Billy called you? I was gonna ring you but everything just seemed to blur and switch off... how badly did I scare him?"

A sigh escaped Ben's lips when he saw the tears forming in (Y/n)'s eyes at the thought of scaring Billy like that. He tangled his hand with hers but moved his other hand to the back of (Y/n)'s head, knotting his fingers into her hair as he leaned to kiss her temple.

(Y/n) didn't remember much about this morning, she knew that suddenly she felt like her insides were churning and as if her stomach was shrivelling up into nothing. When she collapsed in the bathroom everything else seemed to blur together into a mush of voices and movements. She remembered Ben's voice and being in the car but the timeline was skewed, all (Y/n) knew was that Ben had brought her to hospital. Being told that Billy actually had to call Ben made (Y/n)'s heart break in her chest and she knew how badly hospitals upset Billy.

"He didn't understand, he thought you were asleep and asked me to come look after you but he was scared. You were badly dehydrated doll and I can't have you getting that bad again or I'm risking losing you, not just them." Ben's eyes darted down to (Y/n)'s stomach where he moved their entwined hands to brush over her skin.

The thought of losing (Y/n) scared Ben and there was very little that scared him. His family being at any sort of risk was the only thing that could make Ben panic and he wouldn't know what to do if he lost (Y/n), nor did he really know what they would do if they lost this pregnancy. He wouldn't know how to help (Y/n) or what to say or even how she would react to something like that and Ben didn't want to know. He wanted (Y/n) to be safe and okay and for their three babies to be okay.

"The doctor said the medication will start working now and I'm under observation for the next week or two."

"It'll work because it's finally getting into your system for once so hopefully you'll actually be able to eat and drink something. I don't wanna leave you doll because you're still in a bad way but I need to get him back home. I'll get everything covered at the club and bring Billy back tomorrow after preschool, okay?"

Ben didn't want to leave, he wanted to stay and reassure himself that the medication and fluids were working in making (Y/n) better and stopping her state from deteriorating any more than this. But he also needed to get Billy back home for something to eat and to settle him down since he had had a distressing day. He would bring Billy back tomorrow to reassure him that (Y/n) was still okay and getting better and so he could see (Y/n) himself. Ben didn't exactly like the thought of going home and not having (Y/n) there, he hated not having her at home it was always like something was wrong or missing and he couldn't fix it.

But at the same time, Ben knew that Billy would most likely be crawling into bed with him tonight.

When (Y/n) nodded, Ben managed a small smile before he leaned down to press a kiss to her lips. He knew when he first found (Y/n) in the bathroom earlier her lips had been chapped and dry from dehydration but he was relieved now to feel that her lips weren't dry or chapped.

"Okay, come on buddy say goodbye to your mum so I can get you home."

Ben tried to bite back his smile when (Y/n) buried her face into his neck, breathing in his scent which made a shiver run down his spine at the feeling of her breaths against his neck. She didn't want him to go, sleeping without Ben was extremely hard even with how tired and drowsy she felt right now. But he had to go and take Billy home and she knew her boys would be coming back to see her in the afternoon.

"We'll be back tomorrow, doll."

[black-streak]

Waiting for the Worms - Comfortably Numb

Part 5

Warnings as always. This isn't terribly dark. Again, more informative, but a fun little lead up towards the future, so there's that. (Take note of the way Marinette describes her movements, it's not extremely important, but gives a little insight to her mind.)

(Closed list) People I've had on hold for a week: @northernbluetongue @thethirdwheelfriend @shizukiryuu @theatreandcomicfreak @michellemagic @karategirl119 @moonlightstar64 @my-name-is-michell @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @miraculousdisapointment @dorkus-minimus @jardimazul @allthebooksandcrannies @g-arya @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @persephonescat @mycupisbroken @luciferge @18-fandoms-unite-08 @dawnwave16 @alwaysreblogneverpost @kris-pines04 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @weird-pale-blonde-person @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @kokotaru @naclychilli @slytherinhquinn @clumsy-owl-4178 @ladybug-182 @darkthunder1589 @evil-elf16 @dast218 @lysslovsanime @emilytopaz @naoryllis @iloontjeboontje @thepeacetea @danielslilangel @finallyaniguana @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @vixen-uchiha @yuulxd @bleeding-heart-romantic @magic-inthe-stars @st0rmy-w1th1n

~---~

Sitting in a coma for a year was only mildly less terrible than sitting in a grave for however long. 

On the one hand, Marinette was in a coma for a much longer period of time as far as she could tell. On the other, she was alive and could feel this body. Could hear the nurse read the newspaper to her, always announcing the date at the beginning of the visit. Sure, most of the news of this local area meant very little to her, but beggars can't be picky or whatever the saying was. 

Still, nothing could possibly beat the feeling of waking up fully. As these eyes (Both! They both opened now!) took in the room, she decided to focus in on her nurse. Watching the little delicate movements and shifts and attempting to replicate them to ensure all her nerve endings still worked. That muscles, large and small, still responded to commands, nothing paralyzed or unresponsive. While every movement strained against itself, everything still worked to some extent. Weak, but there. It seemed laying mostly still for over a year and a however much longer had deteriorated the muscle mass. Not surprising, but annoying when she desperately wanted to work her body into a frenzy just to prove she could. 

Laying there a little longer to take stock of healed over injuries, she came to the realization that this throat felt weird. She opened the mouth and attempted to ask the nurse, only for nothing to come out. Narrowing eyes, she reached out and gently tapped thin fingers on the nightstand next to the still reading nurse, drawing his attention to her.

Startled molten gold met her and suddenly he was up and taking the vitals, checking everything to be sure Marinette was truly awake and okay. He started speaking in a soothing, soft voice, though she could barely focus on the words enough to process them. Reaching out again, she stopped him midstep and then brought that same hand up to the throat to indicate the problem. She couldn't speak.

The man seemed to understand and nodded along, quickly paging a doctor and coming back to her, pressing a button to gently prop her up and slowly adjust a few machines before turning back and slowly asking a few basic yes or no questions. 

Did she know who she was? Yes, she was Marinette, stuck in the once dead body of her soulmate. She shook to indicate she didn't. With the state of the grave, she doubted she would be welcomed back to the manor. Best not to let them know who Jason was and have them contacting Bruce.

Did she know where she was? A hospital. She gave a nod for that.

Did she know the date? Yes, the nurse had read the date every day for a little over a year now. That much was easy to agree to, despite the timeline confusing her.

Does she know what happened to her? Well yes, but she shook her head no. She couldn't very well explain dying by Joker's cruelty while in the wrong body as Robin and climbing out of a grave. That was like, three separate identity reveals to one stranger. It also made zero sense and she'd probably end up institutionalized.

With the knowledge that she understood him and wasn't brain dead, the man informed her of the various injuries she knew of, plus a few bonus ones that alluded her. Then, he mentioned her inability to speak.

While all of the breaks and bruising had healed up well, the damage to the vocal chords had been horrific and while they did their best, the damage was done. They couldn't even remove them without it potentially cutting off her airway or esophagus.

She was effectively mute.

Marinette finally woke up after a year in a coma and however long in that grave and she still couldn't scream to her heart's content. This was stupid.

All she could do was glare off into space, ignoring the doctor that came in to do a checkup. 

…

After a week they took her off feeding tubes and IV only hydration and started reintroducing a liquid diet. Progress was slow and painful, but necessary.

After another two weeks they brought in soft solids like pudding and oatmeal. This is also when they first tried to help her stand up a little on her own and fine motor control was finally stable enough to write short phrases on a white bored. Rehabilitation was turning out to be an annoyingly long process.

After a month in this place, she finally left her room for the first time and abruptly realized they transferred her to a children's hospital at some point. It made sense. Jason was about fifteen when she died for him and small due to his time on the streets. Stunted growth, likely. They probably assumed she was about fourteen right now, despite the year technically making them sixteen. Even then, it would make the cutoff for a children's facility.

The bright colors across the walls and floors jarred her a bit after the nothing of so long, but was a welcome change. She tried not to glare at the little sick kids running about as she wheeled slowly along corridors, not quite able to walk on these stick thin legs.

Reports of a child John Doe had been filed, but no one really looked at those that hadn't lost their kid, so no one who would recognize Jason ever saw his report. She would be here a while. At least until she recovered enough to be considered okay for discharge. Then she would be put into the system as an orphan. She had no intention of staying long enough to see that through.

Jason and her had taken to the streets before and would thrive out there more than in any foster home they could find her. For now, she would settle back and allow the recovery process to take control. 

…

Or so she thought. She'd only been awake for a little over a month, but she guessed the file must've been put through when she first came in to try and find his guardian. Someone, somewhere, recognized Jason Todd. 

Whoever they were sold the information to Talia Al Ghul.

The woman came in the middle of the night and stole Marinette away. With this weak body and useless voice box, struggling didn't even seem like an option.

Where would it get her, anyways? Dropped off a rooftop and possibly stuck in a grave again? Talia could kill her again and she wouldn't stand a chance in defending herself. Marinette was not willing to take that chance, so she stayed complacent in her kidnapping.

Talia asked many questions of her, curious as to the state of her new play thing. She had to have known that Jason was supposed to be dead. Marinette didn't bother with paying the questions any attention. It's not like she could respond and she felt hesitant to reveal the inability. She worried over what Talia would do upon finding out the extent of the damage. Would keeping Jason be worth it to her?

Either way, she sensed the ever festing frustration in the older woman with every passing inquiry left unanswered. The look in her eyes spoke of a willingness to torture the information out of her.

Good luck with that. 

At the same time, what could Marinette possibly lose at this point. She already died once and had no home to return to. The once ever present tug in her mind was long gone and hadn't returned with her resurrection. She already lost Jason and her old life. If she actually died again by Talia's hand, would it kill her as well by this point? The body was as good as hers what with the lost connection. Either she could either actually die in it now or she was immortal. When it came to it, with no connection or way to truly live on or track down her past life, she had nothing left to fear.

Eventually she came to a decision. Looking up at the woman before her, she lifted a hand to point to the throat and quickly made a slashing motion across it, which Talia immediately nodded in understanding at. She left for a moment only to drop into the seat across the way again and drop a notebook and pen between them. Marinette picked it up and slowly wrote out a phrase.

'Vocal Chords destroyed.'

Talia only nodded and gestured to continue.

'Long coma, deteriorated muscles. Not much function.'

"And coming back from the dead? How'd that happen?" 

Marinette only shrugged. She truly didn't have an answer. Luckily that seemed sufficient an answer.

"Your brain is fully functional though. I can see how closely you're watching me. Waiting and observing. Not nearly as reckless as your past actions made you out to be. Perhaps dying has that affect though."

Marinette only watched silently as Talia mulled the thought over.

"And the damage otherwise?"

'Mostly healed over. Weakened though.'

The following conversation continued much the same. Talia asked questions and either answered them herself or waited for a short response in return. It didn't take long to get the full extent of the situation hashed out. Talia seemed to regard her with an excited gleam now and reassured her that that could all be fixed. Not to worry, the process only hurt a little. In the end, 'Jason' would feel all better.

Marinette wasn't sure exactly how to respond to this news. Yes, the promise of healing faster and possibly regaining her voice was a tempting offer, but in the end, she knew the woman wanted something from her. The price of health would be steep, of that she seemed sure. Again, she couldn't help but wonder what her alternatives were. This would happen whether or not she consented. Might as well make it feel like she had some control over the situation, if only for the comfort it lent her. She gave a jerky nod and watched the woman's smile grow.

Letting this head loll to the side, Marinette blanked out on everything else, falling into a restless sleep for the duration of their journey to wherever they were going.

…

Over the next few weeks, she woke up in random locations, being carted off into a hotel and up towards their rooms. She was never allowed to leave the room or do much more than eat and drink and use the restroom. It was similar to how she imagined prisoners lived, only in nicer conditions. Talia, while adjusted to live in any conditions, preferred to live luxuriously after all. And it wouldn't do to have a random, half dead kid following her around, raising questions all the time. Marinette couldn't truly blame her for that. She remained hidden.

…

At the end of their travels, she followed Talia out of the final hotel room and out into a cab. The cab dropped them off at a seemingly random location only for the two to walk out into the dessert. She wouldn't be surprised if that cab was only a front for the league. They walked for well over an hour, Marinette lucky to have healed enough to walk so long, even though it started to wear her down after the first thirty minutes, only determination to not be left behind moving her forward.

Talia must've stolen her without informing anyone else of her intentions. Otherwise, she's sure they would've taken a more direct and less discreet route. As it was, they reached a cave entrance and made their way down and down until eventually they begin to veer down different paths, Talia disabling traps as they went.

Eventually they reached an opening into a glowing green room, the glow emitting from a massive pool in the center. Something about the place set her on edge. The glow reminding her of Plagg's toxic green eyes and letting off what had to be a magical aura. Talia smiled down at her in a reassuring manner, putting a hand to the small of this body, nudging her forward.

Calculating the risk, it seemed her best bet to go along with the woman's plan. Talia would want her alive, so surely this wouldn't kill her. Plus, Talia seemed sincere in her promise of healing this body up and Marinette might as well be a walking lie detector at this point. The woman meant her every word. Taking a deep breath, she only hoped this magic would accept her as well as the miraculouses had.

Hovering a foot over the pool, she hesitated only a moment before remembering Kagami's advice from all those years ago. Hesitation had never helped her before and had no place here. Blinking, she nodded and let herself drop down into the pit.

[bexterbex]

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 23

Warning, if it hasn’t been obvious in the movies there is Nazi symbolism within the First Order. I will expand on this much more throughout the story. If this is something that bothers you, please just exit the story. The author does not condone any Nazi ideals, this is just for fictional uses only.

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 23: Touchy Subjects

Knowing more about the First Order, but still not enough you had no idea what to say. You also realized you still had no idea who the man in front of you was. But you decided to go with the bland question, “How was your day?”

He turned to you and removed his helmet. “Better, now that we have moved past some of our more tedious topics. We are currently working on moving militaries into the First Order doctrine.”

You hummed in response. You began shifting your notes around nervously before he asked, “How was yours?”

“I enjoyed this morning. I feel like I am accomplishing something. I enjoyed our lunch. My lesson with General Hux was a bit daunting, but I suppose I am learning a whole new history.”

He returned the hum in response as he moved to sit next to you. Your dinner came in and you moved to the dining room. The meal was pleasant enough but there was an awkward silence between you two. Once you finished you moved back into the living room. 

You decided to ask a leading question, “I know we see matches, but can you tell me about yourself?”

Kylo visibly tensed. You knew this probably isn’t something that he wanted to talk about, but you had no idea who this man really was. 

“I am the Supreme Leader of the First Order. I am 35 years old. I can use the Force. There isn’t much to know.”

You shook your head at this, “Ok, that probably wasn’t a good question but who are your parents? Tell me about them.”

“I do not want to speak about them. They are nothing,” now his fist was clenched and he could barely finish the sentence without hissing. 

You recoiled at his response. If he thought they were nothing, the people who gave him life, then what were you?

He could see the response that his actions elicited. “There is not much to know about me. Anything you need to know is in the enlightenment documents.”

“But that is the Kylo the galaxy gets to know. I want to know the man behind the mask.”

“There is no man behind the mask, he and I are the same man.”

“But you’re different with me, especially when you don’t wear the mask.”

You saw his demeanor change. He was still stiff but now much more guarded. He moved to stand. “I am the same man, there is no one else.” He quickly ascended the stairs and made his way to the bathroom. 

If the door could slam you had a feeling that it would have. You gather your things from the living room and make your way to your room. You could hear the shower running through the door. You entered your room and the door shut behind you. The overwhelming feeling caught up to you. You slid down the door and bit back a sob. For the first time in a long time, you felt alone, utterly and painfully alone. 

After what seemed like an eternity, and after the lights in your room dimmed from lack of movement you got up and got ready for bed. You were beginning to wonder if your mother was right, was this match going to be romantic or was it going to be platonic? If he couldn’t open up to you, then how were you going to spend your life with him? Your head kept swimming with questions before sleep took you. 

You woke up to the same alarm that you had set the night before. Still feeling hollow you got ready for the day. Glancing at your reflection you noticed that you had bags under your eyes. You decided to take the time to conceal them this morning, after all, you still had meetings to attend. 

You left your room and again Lieutenant Mitaka was there waiting for you. He greeted you “Good morning Lady Ren. Over breakfast would you like to discuss today’s schedule?”

You nodded and made your way to the dining room within minutes you were eating, while he was enjoying the coffee you ordered him. “Your Health Committee meeting starts again at 10:00 hours. The Supreme Leader will not be in D.C. this morning as he will be overseeing some things in Moscow. He wanted to relay that he will not be able to join you for dinner either. He said that he would like you to eat dinner with the Allegiant General and General Pryde in the officers' lounge. Other than that you are to resume your education as normal,” said the lieutenant glancing up from his data pad. “Your vitamins have also arrived from the chemist. It is suggested that you take them in the morning after you have eaten something, my lady.” 

You noticed the box on the counter. You made your way to it. In it were individual packets with your daily required vitamins. There were high dosage amounts of vitamins D, K, and E along with other things you would suspect to be in a multivitamin. You ripped open that days pack and took the pills with one of your last sips of coffee. 

You turn to the lieutenant, “So I have nothing on my schedule until the health meeting this morning?”

“No, my lady. Is there something that you would like to do,” asked the young lieutenant.

“Why don’t we go to the bridge. I’ll take another cup of coffee with me. I would just like to observe things.”

With that your coffee order was filled and put in your to-go mug. You followed the lieutenant to the bridge. The room went silent as you entered. General Hux had his back to you and turned to face you when he had realized you were there. “Lady Ren, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I just simply wanted to observe the bridge this morning,” you said taking a sip from your coffee. 

At this, the general raised a brow. “As you wish,” and he turned his attention back to his subordinates on the bridge. Everyone around you quickly got back to work. Although conversations were now hushed. “Did you find the lieutenant's notes to be sufficient?”

You turned back to the general after your attention was on one of the officers discussing communications with another. “I did,” you turn to the lieutenant. “Thank you for the notes. I was impressed that they were the lesson verbatim.” The lieutenant nodded and thanked you. 

Again you noticed the attention of all of the officers on the bridge was on you. You could see the shock on some of their faces. “Good. I’ll be happy to report that the lieutenant is doing his job efficiently and to your standards,” replied the general. Who once again turned and started to speak with some subordinate officers. 

You moved around the bridge continuing to drink your coffee. You liked observing the fine-tuned efficiency of the officers. It was calming. You could tell that the officers were uneasy with your presence. You didn’t realize how much time had passed until the lieutenant informed you that you needed to go to your meeting. You exited the bridge and made your way to the hangar where you were greeted once more by your golden guard and General Pryde.

You returned to the White House and picked up from your meeting from yesterday. “Shall we begin,” asked Dr. Koroban. There was agreement all over the room. 

“I believe we left off yesterday with Lady Ren preparing pieces for a hygiene campaign. Would you like to show us what you found?”

They glanced through the videos and posters that you found at the Library of Congress. The room seemed to be in agreement that they were a great starting point for the campaign. “I do believe that the First Order will need to prepare some things for this campaign, only a few things just to keep the reason for this top of mind.”

You all agreed. The doctor sent your videos and posters to some group onboard the Supremacy. Apparently, they had some sort of group that handled all of the educational materials or enlightenment materials for the First Order. You also remember overhearing from your time on the bridge this morning that the Supremacy was docked somewhere in your solar system, just not too close to Earth. 

“Now that that will be taken care of by the First Order, our next objective should be the dietary campaign.”

“Are we all still on board with ‘first world’ countries having an educational campaign and ‘third world’ countries actually receiving food from the First Order,” asked the Surgeon General. 

“I believe so, but I think that the First Order may want to consider also lending food to areas in First World countries that have high levels of poverty,” you replied. 

“I think that is something that we would prefer. We want your people to be healthy, helpful and productive,” said Dr. Dabrini.

“Tell me, what other planets serve the First Order,” asked the CDC director. 

“We have many but some of the main ones are Arkanis, Comra, Coruscant, Daxam IV, Hevurion, Kuat, Orinda and Riosa, some of them are not unlike your own but must smaller and less populated,” said General Pryde. 

“So tell me how does the First Order feed itself,” asked the Surgeon General. 

“We have many farming operations on many of our planets. If you are asking how we will feed Earth, then it is rather simple. Earth will feed Earth. The First Order will help in that endeavor, and will be able to receive some of the fruits of this combined labor,” responded General Pryde. “Currently you do produce enough food to feed your entire planet and then some. We would help with the proper preservation and distribution of the food, as you let too much go to waste.”

The health officials seemed to ease at this statement. “So we have determined that both the ‘third world’ and ‘first world’ countries will be receiving assistance. The ‘first world’ countries will only have assistance in places that are needed and will have a nutrition campaign,” asked Dr. Koroban for group approval. 

“We should also make sure to highlight the taking of mandatory vitamins and supplements. That should be run in both campaigns,” said Dr. Dabrini. 

“Yes, that is imperative. It should also be reminded that individual selfishness and individual desires are what brought the Empire down. We need our citizens healthy and working together if we want to maintain order,” said General Pryde. 

“Lady Ren, would you like to take up this pursuit like the one you did yesterday. Your work was exemplary and your insight was invaluable,” asked Dr. Koroban.

You nodded in agreement. If Kylo wasn’t going to insist on lunch as he was out of town you needed something to fill your time. 

“Shall I recommend that we take a few minutes recess before we convene of the topic of reproductive health,” asked Dr. Koroban.

The room was in agreement. You took this time to get another cup of coffee. Meeting you at the refreshments table was General Pryde, everyone else was congregating to other parts of the room. “If I may say, my lady, you have been doing most well at these meetings. I am also delighted to hear that you are receiving an education from Allegiant General Hux. If you ever need anything clarified, don’t hesitate to ask me. After all, I was with his father and Rae Salone in the building of the First Order.”

His comment caught you off guard. Hux failed to mention yesterday that he was a founding member of sorts to the First Order. You filed this thought away for your lesson later today. 

“Thank you general. I look forward to learning as much as I can about the First Order,” you respond diplomatically. 

“Shall we all gather again to begin the second part of today’s meeting,” asked Dr. Koroban. You all proceeded to take your seats once more for the meeting. This was a battle that you were not ready to face quite yet.  

A/N: Let me know what yall think of the story so far. Feedback, constructive criticism, ideas...OMG, I love it... It all helps.

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Older and Far Away || Alain and Kaden

TIMING: Not long after Tommy’s death LOCATION: Hospital PARTIES: @carbrakes-and-stakes and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Alain confronts Kaden after his run in with Tommy in the woods.

Kaden hated hospitals. He hated staying in them. He hated being in them. He hated them more when he felt like he put someone else in them. It meant he was trapped there, feeling guilty and waiting and he didn’t have to be there. Which was a lie. He had to be there. Even if this wasn’t his fault, Kaden had to be there. It was just what he had to do for his friend. If the situation was reversed, he was sure Alain would feel the same. So he sat there and waited outside the room, watching as doctors and nurses went in and out. He wondered when he should go in and wait inside but he didn’t feel ready yet. He wasn’t sure Alain was either. But he was going to be there and he was going to wait. Maybe he should have grabbed a book or something to keep his mind occupied while he waited. Of course, it probably wouldn’t have made a difference one way or the other. He couldn’t keep his mind off of what happened, couldn’t focus on anything else. When the doctor came out of the room again, Kaden figured it was now or never. He was likely awake. And it had been long enough since he checked in. Maybe his friend would actually want to see his face. Wouldn't blame him if he didn’t, though. “Hey,” he said softly as he tapped on the door before walking in. “I, uh, there’s food here. That I brought. If you want. The dogs are fed and walked. Um…” His voice trailed off. He didn’t even know where to begin. Asking if he was okay was pointless. “How are you feeling? You know, other than shitty.”

Alain also hated hospitals. He hated them so much he usually left during the night, when he knew no one was going to bother stopping him. In White Crest, the hospital staff was easily overwhelmed, and he often wondered how worse it would be, if it weren’t for hunters. He would never be able to hunt ever again, this much he knew. Aside from the pain, or the obvious absence of his limb, Alain’s thoughts went to his duty, that he no longer would be able to fulfill. 47 years old and good for the scrap yard. Heh, for a hunter, this was quite good. Most of them did not live this long, and now that he was injured, he’d probably live long enough to outlive much younger hunters.

Putain. Would he outlive Kaden? Lost in his thoughts, he responded mechanically to the doctor and the nurse’s questions and demands. How are you doing this morning? How do you feel? Is the medicine strong enough? Any side effects? Then the doctor left, the nurse helped him clean up without touching the bandages, helped him change, helped him get back in bed, and made sure he had everything he needed. Then she left. She had left his reading glasses in the bathroom. Well great. Pinching at the bridge of his nose, he picked up the book on the bedside table and started to have a look at it. That’s when he heard the knock on the door. Was it the nurse coming back? Non. “Hi,” alright, he could do this. He did not want food, he barely had managed to finish the soup provided by the hospital. His appetite just wasn’t there. “Maybe later,” he replied, forcing himself to smile politely briefly, turning his head to put down the book and get rid of that fake expression on his face. An air of melancholy started to appear on his features, one that he got rid of almost immediately. “Thanks for walking them. I hope they aren’t too worried,” he frowned, scratching at his cheek. This was another thing he had been thinking of lately. He had had a lot of time to think, but that did not mean that all his thoughts made sense. Not even close. “I’m okay,” he assured him. The obvious absence of one leg under the covers told a different story, as did the IV, or the even more obvious : he was in a damn hospital.

Kaden knew damn well he wasn’t going to eat the food he brought. He sat the tupperware and utensils on the bedside table anyway before settling down into the chair. “Maybe later,” he echoed. What he couldn’t manage to echo was the traces of smiles and politeness that Alain was pulling onto his face. He leaned forward in his seat, forearms crossed and leaning against his leg. “Don’t mention it,” he said quickly. Maybe too quickly. He was fairly certain he wasn’t going to stop feeling like shit over this whole mess anytime soon. “They’re fine, they’re good boys. I’m sure they’d rather have seen you than me, but, uh, yeah.” Shit. Walking them in general was out for a bit with him, wasn’t it? No, he needed to stop thinking about what Alain’s life would be like now. He didn’t know. Neither of them did. It would surely be different and hard for a while, maybe a long while, but it wasn’t like this was the middle ages. And he wasn’t dead. He still had plenty he could do. Maybe he even got to be normal. Shit. “You don’t have to lie to me,” he said, voice tight, smaller than he wanted it to be. He couldn’t command mastery of these sorts of conversations like Morgan could. But he could try. “If you’re not okay. Or want me to go you can say so.” I’d deserve that, he thought.

Alain nodded. It was not much, and he did not expect anyone to buy that he was fine, but when you had spent your whole life with the belief that you had to be brave, no matter what, it was hard to shake it off, when the last thing you were feeling, was bravery. He felt broken, damaged, incomplete, lost, and even though he had had a few people manifest themselves, offering help in many forms, he felt abandoned too. This was something that he hoped he’d never ever have to feel again, after his father’s passing. But in the past few months, he had felt it twice. Right now, and when Evelyn and he went on different roads. Of course, he had had time to think about her these last days, wondering if things would have gone better or worse, had he never had to face a mara in his life. Who knew? Certainly not him.

The conflict laid in the fact that on the one hand, Alain had every right to be angry about what had happened, to be angry at Kaden, or at that stupid bear, at the whole world, and on the other hand, he knew that if there was someone to be furious at, it was him, for putting himself in this position, for following the code when he had so many opportunities to leave town and build a life, a much simpler life somewhere else. He had always known that this could not end well, but stupidly, he always had thought that things would be different for him, that he was special, that things like that only happened to others. How foolish. This was something he would have to live with, his own stupidity, and his ego, as broken as it might have been now.

“Mmmh?” Well, pretending to be fine would prove hard, if he kept getting carried away by his stream of thoughts, Alain told himself. “That’s fine. I’m just not sure my place is going to be suitable for a wheelchair, to be honest” he was not sure yet whether a prosthetic leg could be possible or not. Either way, living in the middle of nowhere would be out of the question anyway. Driving would be too, for a while. Driving stick would be impossible for sure. There were too many incertain things now for Alain to feel comfortable about his future. “If you know anyone in real estate, let me know, alright?” Heh, having easy access to everything would be a nice change, at least. The turn that the conversation was taking, however, was not. Alain resented Kaden for what had happened, but he refused to tell him that, and so he had assured anyone who asked that no, he was not holding a grudge against the other hunter. Lies. He hated those, but he would hate even more for Kaden to be hurt, as he had so obviously shown in the clearing. “Kaden, look,” he rubbed at his face, exhaled and pulled the covers from his leg to reveal the bandaged stump. The other hunter had not seen it (at least a cleaned up version of it) yet, and while there was nothing that could scare an expert hunter here, the absence of a leg was not a sight for everyone. This was his reality now, and if Kaden wanted to get real, he would have to see this. “No, I’m not okay, and yes, you have your part of responsibility, but you already know that, and there’s no point in me adding more to your guilt, is there?” He doubted that Kaden wanted more guilt, but maybe lying to him was not a solution either. “Either way, I would have never ever left you there, in front of that bugbear, alone. I don’t know what happened, I don't know why you froze, and if you want to discuss it, we can, but only if it helps,” it needed to be addressed but Alain doubted that this would be easy. And maybe this would not help, but they had to talk about this.

Kaden awkwardly rubbed his palm against the crook of his elbow, mouth pulling into a thin line. “Right but odds are you won’t need one forever. They talked to you about prosthetics, right? And crutches are probably an option in the meantime, too.” Was he being too hopeful? He wasn’t sure. Funny, he never considered himself an optimist of any sort, not with his life. But more and more he found himself putting more and more hope into things. That they’d get better, that they’d be better, that tomorrow would be different. He had no reason to believe it, either. He supposed some of his friends were rubbing off on him. Whether that was setting him up for disappointment later he wasn’t sure. Probably. His stupid heart didn’t stop hoping, though. There was no denying that the hunter’s life was going to change one way or another. How much was the question now, not if. “You’re going to move?” He shook his head. That seemed like too much, too impulsive. A bad idea. But he didn’t know how to articulate it any more than he did when trying to tell Regan not to live in a shed. Practically speaking, it made sense. It still felt wrong. There was no logic to it, and he hated that, but it didn’t change the matter.

As Alain pulled the sheet of his leg, Kaden kept his eyes trained forward, barely blinking. He wanted to look away, not out of disgust, he’d had more than enough training to be desensitized to gore and injuries, his parents made sure of that. No, he wanted to turn away out of shame and guilt. He didn’t. He clenched his jaw and kept his eyes fixed at his friend instead. For a while, he stood there silently, still unsure of what to say. Apologies seemed both necessary and hollow all at the same time. “I know you wouldn’t have left me.” The words hung in the air for a few moments more. “You shouldn’t have had to make that choice. I failed.” The word hit his stomach like a punch to the gut, but he didn’t let it show on his face. For whatever reason, he felt like he was just a teenager again, reporting his efforts on a hunt to his parents, having to own up to all his mistakes and take the critique. He wasn’t sure why, it’s not like Alain was much like his mother or father on the whole. And yet he fell back in step into the role anyway. “It won’t happen again. I’m not going to let it.” Not that he would be out there with him any time soon, if ever again. Shit. “I made a mistake. If you blame me you should do it. There’s no reason not to. But it won’t happen again.” Maybe if he said it he could mean it. To mean it, he’d have to examine why it happened and it was something he hardly wanted to touch, like a bomb waiting to go off or floodgates about to open up and release the dam.

Both Alain and Kaden came from extremely exigent families, with their ancient guidelines, their codes, and a special set of skills that they had both memorized. Kaden’s abilities as a hunter were not to be questioned, as far as the slayer was concerned. The beast hunter was capable, and he knew werewolves possibly more than any other hunter in this town. But, just like many hunters, both had parents who tried to mold them to their psychological image to the point where learning to think for yourself could take a while. Alain, who had not seen any of his family members for over 20 years still had moments where he caught himself feeling like he was possessed by his own father. This was not something that Alain had ever shared with anyone. Right now, he wondered how his family would feel about this, and it was a relief for him to realize that he had absolutely no idea of how. Would they be proud or disappointed? Who knew. A time would come where he would stop to care about their hypothetical opinion, but today was not that day.

“Crutches are an option. The surgeon was positive about the possibility of a prosthetic leg, but the physiotherapist… well, he’s chatty, and…” What he had to say was not as enthusiastic… Without naming anyone, he still had managed to make Alain very concerned and so, his grimace finished his sentence. Either way, things would be different for Alain. No more hunting either way, although if it all went for the best, he could hope to go back to work. His main problem then would be being able to afford the prosthetic leg. “I would stay in town,” he supposed that this was Kaden’s concern. Where else would he be going anyway? Everyone he knew lived here. “I just don’t want to be in the middle of nowhere, in a two floor house,” he cleared his throat. Clearly, the man was not thrilled about the idea. He liked his house, and he liked his garden even more. Finding a place with one floor, with a garden, in the city center, would be a feat.

A few seconds passed before Alain realized that Kaden would stubbornly keep looking at the damn remains of his legs. Putain de chasseurs. There were all the same, weren’t they. Well, almost the same. Some unpredictability remained, much to Alain’s disservice. The sheets fell back on the stump, and Alain felt the same way he felt each time he did something concerning his leg, he felt like it was still there.

Still, he did not get lost in his thoughts this time. Whether it was the tone or the words, he did not know, but hearing fail had Alain stop what he was doing to look at Kaden directly, which was not something he had done since the moment the man had entered the room. He wished that he had replied right ahead, but there was no point correcting him. Yeah, he did fail, and someone had to pay the price. Still, looking at Kaden say that he would not do it again, he felt like he was looking at a child, or like he had stepped once again into his father’s shoes. “I do blame you, but that does not mean I won’t forgive you,” he could not lie to his face, not when he was looking so vulnerable. Forgiveness was not for today. His heart felt heavy in his chest, yet he could not look away from Kaden, studying his reaction. If he had been capable of that, he would have gotten up, and put a hand on his shoulder, given him a slap on the arm, anything to comfort him. But he could not, and so, he asked him: “Come here, you’re gonna make me cry, andouille.”

Kaden’s face remained blank. As best he could. He tried to keep his expression serious, stoic, something like that. He didn’t want this to be about him. He didn’t need to betray his emotions or beg for pity. That’s what his mother would say. Tears were useless and if he was going to cry he could save it for his pillow. Even though deep down, he knew Alain would never think like that, would never say that, all his training from years past decided now was the time to resurface. Good. He needed the reminder. He put someone in the hospital. He put his friend in the hospital because he was rusty or unprepared or whatever they wanted to call it. The point was he had let his training slide, he let the code slide, and it cost people.

Kaden stood there and braced himself for what was next, the yelling or scorn or anger, perhaps disappointment, whatever was set to boil over from across the way from the man currently bed bound. He waited, ready for something akin to punishment. It was what he deserved. He’d take it, accept it. Only it didn't come. His stoic face shifted to confusion. Kaden tried to tuck it away, erase his emotions, keep them from betraying him and causing more trouble. It grew harder, though, when he was forgiven. “No,” he said reflexively. “No, you shouldn’t--” Kaden didn’t deserve a pass. Of any kind. The guilt sinking deep into his bones told him that he didn’t earn it. He wanted anger or ire or even disappointment, it would be easier. Easier to keep it all inside and push forward. He bit the inside of his mouth and nodded, walking forward. “I’m sorry,” he offered, biting harder on the lining of his lips after he spoke. If he focused on the pain, maybe the rest would subside. The tears could wait for his pillow. He was going to make them.

Alain’s eyebrows furrowed, and he did not even try to hide his confusion. Was it something he said that might have … “I said I will forgive you, I didn’t say that I already have,” that would have been simply inadequate. Alain was not ready for forgiveness. He was furious, even if he tried not to show it. He wanted to scream his anger and his pain at Kaden’s face, and yet, he could not seem to find the words or the energy to do so. He had been lacking energy lately. First he put that on the account of the lack of sleep, the nightmares, but while that certainly made it worse, he was simply tired, torn between his duties as a hunter, his career as a mechanic, his social life, and last but not least, himself. Finding a balance between all four of these things was a near impossible task that he had tried to achieve his whole life. And once in a while, one of those things crumbled. He felt like he was not competent enough, or he watched his social circle crumble with each death of a fellow hunter, or each person who found out who he was. It was like trying to keep your balance while standing on marbles. It crumbled. And inexorably, Alain always fell down. “I’ll never be able to hunt, ever again,” he observed. Not the best thing to say to someone who was apologizing to him perhaps, but this was what he had to say. The words came out colder than he imagined they would have. Maybe this would be how he would express his anger. “Those days are gone, forever,” there was a quiver that tugged at the corners of his mouth,  and the trembling of his voice suggested something else than anger. He was not angry, was he? No, this was wrong. He was simply devastated. Losing this was too much of a price to pay. What would he do if he could not fulfil his mission anymore? He was good for the scrap yard. The thought was like an echo. This was not his first time thinking this. No, that thought came back to him. It had come back to him several times already, these past couple of days.

“I don’t forgive you,” and he might never forgive. Why should he? Did he have to? Was it the right thing to do? Or did he have a right to be furious, to be infuriated that he had to pay for the mistakes of someone else? He had made a choice, he had decided that he would protect him. It was his own fault. His thoughts spiraled again and again as he tried, yet another time, to figure out who’s fault it was.

Kaden stood still and took his comeuppance. He didn’t feel the need to reiterate what he said before. Alain shouldn’t forgive him. If he couldn't forgive himself, why should the man missing a leg? His face remained stoic as Alain made his confession, his jaw clenched as he listened. His first thoughts went to denial, hope, but then he was struck by a question. The very question that kept plaguing him more and more often recently. It kept nagging at him, tugging at his shirt tails. It didn’t help that Regan kept asking it, too. It didn’t help that Oscar assumed the answer for him. But this wasn’t a question for him. It was for Alain. “Do you want to hunt again?” What should have had an easy answer, something that used to be black and white, felt uncertain. He had to ask. No amounts of platitudes or solutions would be right unless he knew that much. There were enough times Kaden didn’t know the answer for himself. But Alain looked broken, in more ways than one. Would Kaden feel the same if he couldn’t hunt again? He used to know. Now he wasn’t sure in the slightest.

“Do I want to hunt again?” Alain repeated the question, but his tone was different as he said those words, as if this was such a foolish thing to ask. Force of habit. This was a question that he had asked himself each time he had ever ended up needing stitches, a cast, or with head trauma. But each time he got back on his feet, and he kept going. Something had changed. Was it years and years of hunting that had ended up breaking something inside, or had this been the last straw? After all, there was no getting back on his feet now. The symbolism of it might have not been the most poetic, but it meant something. “I can’t,” he covered his mouth, his thumb resting on the cheekbone as he thought about it. “I thought that he was going to kill me,” half the sentence was lost in his hand. His chest lifted up even though his heart felt heavy. While the hunter almost never cried, his voice kept on breaking and trembling and the humidity of his eyes betrayed him. He was not sure why he bothered hiding his sorrow, his anger or his pain, in front of one of the few people who could understand it. Once again, he might have been trying to preserve others before taking care of himself. Even when he was not hunting, he always had this urge to protect others, didn’t he. Most of the time, he was incredibly clumsy about it too, but he still tried. “No, I don’t want to hunt again. I don’t want to keep on sacrificing myself for…” For nothing. All his life he had done this, and it never stopped, it was never getting better. You just couldn’t win against a species that could hide and live forever, and also contaminate the rest of the population like a plague. Things would be worse if they weren’t there, but when was the last time someone had been thankful for hunters. He was tired. “I’m so tired Kaden, you will be too, if you live long enough,” he paused. This was the one thing he wanted to discuss. “I don’t know what happened over there, and I don’t understand either what happened but if you can’t fix this, then you should not be out there,” getting himself killed would be all that he would gain.

“I’ve seen hunters in the field with multiple missing limbs, Alain. Can’t might not be the right word.” Kaden tore his gaze from him and wished there was a window, anything to look out of. There was nothing but the soft hum of fluorescent lighting and he didn’t want to sear his eyes looking at those. Floor would have to do for a moment. “We’re some of the most resilient people out there,” he said, looking back at his friend. He didn’t have to say what he meant by we. Hunters knew. They knew better than anyone how many times they got knocked down and got back up, how many times they faced death and lived to fight another day. If anyone could do what felt or seemed impossible, it was them. They did it all the time. This could easily be one of them if he wanted it. But he’d have to want it. And he didn’t. Kaden didn’t know what to make of it, to have that question answered so easily after everything. He’d been wrestling with it himself for months and, hell, maybe longer if he really thought about it. “Okay,” was all he could manage to say. “You might… just. Think about it.” Maybe it was just a knee jerk reaction to everything. Considering. There was no way he could mean that so surely right now. And for as much as he hated thinking about that gnawing, biting question nipping at his heels, he hated the one that came next more. “I-- I’m not sure.” He kept his face stark and blank as he could manage. “I just thought… I’m not sure.” He did have an inkling of why. When he’d looked at the bear back there, he’d seen a person. And he hated himself for it. “It won’t happen again, though. I’ll make sure. I’ll train harder. I’ll-- It’s not going to happen again.”

“It’s not about the damn fucking leg,” Alain had switched to French without even noticing. This change happened whenever the man hurt himself, was struggling to do something, or in this case, letting the anger take over. Sitting straighter in his bed, he breathed in heavily, as an attempt to calm himself down. A failed attempt. He breathed out just as heavily. His blood was pounding so much he could hear it. He wanted to get away from here, just change the subject, and for a second, he contemplated it, his eyes travelling from Kaden to the wheelchair in the corner. Why the fuck was it so far away? Fucking doctors. Fucking hospital. He took a deep breath again. This is fine, he could explain why he had said that. He did not want to, was not used to, he could not. He did not want to complain, he did not want people to have to listen to this crap, think that he was just over reacting, or that this was his fault, which it was really. No one wanted to listen to a grown man complaining. His breathing eventually paced down, growing more silent, as Alain kept on staring blankly at that damn wheelchair, thinking about all that sorrow he had inside of him, that he couldn’t seem to shake off. “You must think I’m a bloody coward,” he finally said.  Maybe he was. There was something cowardly about doing this. Kaden was right, Alain knew plenty of hunters with a prosthetic limb, and he could just get back on his feet, once again, but did he want to? He did not want to. He wanted to retire and pretend to be normal and maybe, if he were lucky, pretending would lead to actually being normal. One could hope. But he did not have much of that these days.

Was it so wrong to want what he had always been denied ? Was it so wrong to get rid of the thing that had cost him so much, ever since he was born ? How many times as a child did he wish he could just go to school, get back home, go to soccer practice and at the end of the day have his mother read him a bedtime story. Or did this only belong in fiction?

“Kaden, this had nothing to do with training. You froze, and then you killed the bear on your own, I did not help,” this had nothing to do with training. “I might be full of shit sometimes, but I also know when someone’s lying to my face,” his eyes finally strayed away from the wheelchair, and he looked at his friend with confusion, and worry. “Sort this out. Talk to me about it, or talk to whoever you want about it, but sort this out. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Kaden bit his tongue, held back his instinct to latch onto the anger, to attach himself to it, and throw it back. He didn’t deserve to be angry, he didn’t deserve to lash out. He did deserve the ire and the contempt and whatever else Alain wanted to throw his way. His gaze started to drop down the floor, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard his mother’s voice sniping at him to look at her when she spoke to him, when she scolded him and corrected him. Though she never lashed out, he always worried that every time could be the one that it changed. “I never called you a coward,” he said, voice as even as he could manage, the words nearly biting, the anger brimming beneath the surface. It wasn’t even directed at the man in front of him. If anything, it was turned inward, burning himself from the inside. He held Alain’s gaze, steady and unwavering, even as the man looked past him. Kaden barely blinked, “Of course this has to do with training,” he snapped back. “If I hadn’t let it-- If I hadn’t let everything slip, then I wouldn’t have frozen.” If he hadn’t second guessed, let his thoughts cloud his judgment, let his life take precedent over his duty. It had everything to do with his training. All his parents had worked for and built him up to be was coming undone. He knew that. He could feel it. And he wouldn’t accept some other explanation, not from a hunter of all people. “I’ll be better. I’ll get better.” All he could hear ringing in the back of his mind was his mother’s words. I don’t need better, I need the best.

“You don’t have to say it,” Alain retorded, once again looking away. Maybe it was the remnants of being the ugly duckling of the family, but Alain periodically had those moments of doubts during which he questioned everything and everyone. It was in those times that he should have been looking out for himself, and try to find out what made him feel so insecure, what made him doubt himself, but it was much easier to tell yourself that others thought that he was this or that. “Sure, it has nothing to do with the question you just asked me,” or with the fact that he seemed to disapprove of Alain’s answer. The older hunter shook his head, his eyebrows low. He did not have a kind look in his eyes, it was closer to a glare of disapproval. Whatever was troubling Kaden, he could not tell, and he felt like he would not get an answer other than this broken record : It’s the training. Tu parles, Charles. “Do you want to stop hunting, Kaden? Is it because of Regan?” Perhaps Kaden wanted to keep her safe, who would he be to judge? If things with Evelyn had been different, he would have done the same for her. “What is going on?”

“If I wanted to say it I would have!” Kaden’s anger got the best of him, boiling over, spilling out. He clenched down on his jaw, trying to swallow it back. He inhaled and pulled it all back inside, tried to put it back in its bottle, save it for later, perhaps. He didn’t need it now. He hadn’t earned it now. Even now that the questions were being turned on him. He bit down harder if it was at all possible, frozen again, just like he was when face to face with that bugbear. “That doesn’t matter. And this has nothing to do with Regan.” His words were harsh and biting. If he had the answer to that, he wouldn't fucking be here, would he? If he had the answer his life might make sense, things wouldn’t have changed and he wouldn’t be wrestling with guilt and shame every fucking day. ‘We’re not talking about me. Not about that. And it doesn’t matter what I want.” It never had. His parents had made that clear from the time he was born. If he wanted to be normal, it wouldn’t ever happen. If he wanted to remain ignorant of the supernatural, it was too late. If he wanted to live a life with less pain it was out of reach. It didn’t matter. What he wanted didn’t change what he was. It wouldn’t undo his life or reset.

Alain’s jaw clenched, but this time he remained silent. There was no point in replying. What good would that do? And so he kept his mouth shut, rested his back against the front of the bed and waited. Perhaps he would calm down, perhaps he would leave. After a while, however, tugging at the corner of the slayer’s lips, there was a small smile. How many times had he been the one with the short temper, yelling all that he had on his heart at someone (who did not deserve that)’s face ? Enough to know that there was no point arguing now. Rubbing at the back of his neck, he looked away from Kaden, sighing. “Ask me that same question in a couple of months,” maybe the other man was right, and he was just over reacting, or maybe this was something he had been troubled with for God knew how long. “Can we talk about literally anything else now, please? I don’t want to argue with you,” maybe it was best to talk as friends, and not hunters. After all, this was where the trouble always came from.

Kaden almost wanted more anger back, felt like he deserved it. But that wasn’t fair to push, to beg for it out of some selfish reason to be proven right, to stack on his own guilt. Instead, he nodded. “Okay.” He didn’t give Alain an invitation to ask it back because he wasn’t sure he wanted that, wasn’t sure he could handle knowing what his answer might be in a few months. Whatever the answer, he was sure it meant losing something. So the easiest thing was to continue walking along a tightrope, knowing full well he’d fall one way or another. For now, it didn’t matter. As long as he didn’t look down. “Sure,” he said, leaning back in the chair, his voice growing softer, almost distant. “We can… We can turn on the tv. I was stuck here with Cece and Grace for a while each. There’s this dumb show about girls who gossip. It’s awful. But I can frighten you with how much I’ve learned about what's-her-face and the other blonde one.” It seemed hollow and stupid, but sometimes that’s all anyone could handle. And it was a decent place to start.

“...” Alain, who could not help it, had opened his mouth to make a comment regarding Kaden’s life choices, but instead he just gave him an openly mocking smile. It was not much, but it might have been the first genuine smile he had given Kaden since he had entered the room. “That sounds perfect, sure,” his hand reached for the remote, which he handed at the other man. “Please tell me all there is to know about what’s-her-face and the other blonde one,” what followed reminded Alain of why he had not been watching a lot of television in the past few years, but if that could appease Kaden, he could suffer through the adventures of rich people whining about the trouble they got themselves into, and there was something almost cathartic about complaining and criticizing those shallow people. “Well, this was terrible.”

[jus-tea]

Going to explain a little about the Miss Rhona lyrics, what inspired different aspects etc, as I’ve seen a lot of people speculating over it, and coming up with their own ideas (which I fully support!) but for those who are curious...

1st Stanza

“Daddy’s at the food store” So, when this was written, myself, my partner, and seemingly everyone was spending so much time going from supermarket to supermarket trying to find the basics, the essentials. Pasta, flour, sugar etc were sold out seemingly everywhere. The weekend just before this was written he’d lined up for half an hour before Costco opened to ensure he acquired some toilet paper- which seemed impossible to get ANYWHERE. I had colleagues who sent their adult children to shops everyday (they couldn’t cause they were at work) to try to find toilet paper somewhere. We ran out at work, and ended up with tissues. People, generally, were spending so much more time trying to find essentials at supermarkets. It’s not nearly as bad now, but just over a month ago when I wrote this it felt like a big issue. Also, “food store”?! NO ONE HAS CALLED ME OUT ON THIS which I find so weird because no one actually says, “food store”?! What a weird expression! So why did I use it? Well! Initially I thought “cost-co” but didn’t use it because I wanted the rhyme to appeal more universally. And we only got a Costco in my city a few years ago and I know plenty of places in the world don’t have one so... I thought maybe supermarket? But thought maybe they didn’t call them that in other countries- market? Market sounded so strange as it’s really only fresh fruit and veggies we get in our local markets here (in my part of the world) and didnt fit with the image I was trying to create and besides all our markets were cancelled as they were too crowded.. so “food store” was initially just a place-hold. I still can’t believe literally no one has said “hey wtf is up with “food store? No one says that” but there you go. It’s in literally every version ive seen as that so... that’s what it is now. So, that line about the food store and collated with the next line, “mummy’s our of town- she’s working at the hospital” was based on news articles I’d read about doctors having to isolate themselves from their families by sleeping either at hospital or in their garage. People who couldn’t see their kids for ages, it was really sad! And then combining these lines, it’s about how these little kids for the first time really are sometimes being left home alone because their parents have stuff they *have* to do; get food or work, and lots of kids these days don’t get left home alone anymore, it was common when I was little but not for a long time! But seemingly suddenly with this pandemic it’s happening again. And I hadn’t seen that talked about but I was seeing glimpses of it and it, felt weird? I guess? So that made for the perfect beginning to a covid19 nursery rhyme- a kid getting left home alone a lot and not being really sure how to respond to that.

So, with the hide away lines, there’s 3 stanzas and in each miss Rhona gets closer. The first one is she’s “come to town”. Now I remember that feeling on that day learning that the first coronavirus case had occurred in my city. Up until then there was a bit of a sense of dread, like you knew it was everywhere else, then in the news it got closer and closer, with cases in small country towns nearby. But when it got to my city it was suddenly so real. And that’s where the story starts because Miss Rhona was HERE. She arrived in the kid’s town. The line, “she’s come to take us down” is another way of saying “she’s going to get you” and also links to the final line which reveals her success “she took us down/she’s brought us down”.

2nd stanza

So, she goes from being in town to being “at the doorstep” which represents getting closer- being in those people the child might interact with everyday- and imagined more literally in the postal worker delivering a package (actually ON the doorstep) or food delivery or anyone who they’d still have close contact with. But “I’ll keep 6 feet away” is a self reassurance that if they just do the right thing and keep their distance everything will be ok. But then the conflict! Grandma needs toilet paper, EVERYONE needs toilet paper and no one can get it anywhere! No doubt the dad is our trying to find some more while he’s at the “food store”. And I was thinking... my children’s grandmother lives in a different state to us but if we were in the same one you can bet your life id be out dropping essentials at her doorstep whenever I could- tp included. (Although, tbh the tp issue didn’t seem as bad in her state from what she told me) so in this bit I guess I imagined myself as the child because that would be something important to me, to make sure my elders had their essentials. Idk I tried to help where I could, got baby wipes when I found it for a friend with a newborn, stuff like that. So the conflict is the child’s sense of responsibility ensuring their grandmother has what she needs, while also knowing that the coronavirus, Miss Rhona, could reside in anyone they meet along the way. Kind of like a little red riding hood situation linking the dangers of strangers. So they open the door due to this sense of responsibility and, oh no, Miss Rhona was at the doorstep, remember? Now the child has it too; “Miss Rhona’s come to stay” IN THE CHILD. This line was to use the imagery of Miss Rhona coming to stay with the child at their house, like an aunt might come to visit for the weekend, but symbolises the virus coming to live within the child, they’ve caught it now, which is why they definitely, “can’t come out to play”.

Stanza 3

“But grandma needs the paper” that’s where the conflict arises again- the child’s sense of responsibility, maybe guilt even? Overshadowing their understanding of just how serious the virus would be should their grandmother catch it. They’re just a kid remember? They don’t understand. So they take her some anyway, everyone needs toilet paper! Also, I know that phrasing it as such misleads the listener to think about a newspaper. Thats how we talk, “I’ll get the paper!” My dad says ... often. But, 2 things, it rolls off the tongue easier than “grandma needs toilet paper” which would’ve messed up the rhythm anyway, and also, for anyone who’s lived it you would automatically know about the “great toilet paper shortage of 2020” 😅 there were so many memes about it and it was funny that everyone was obsessed with it but if you were one of those people who genuinely really couldn’t find any- and there were lots!- then it kind of sucked. And that’s a memory that’ll stick with you 🙈

So. The note. “And here’s a note from Rhona she wanted me to say” imagine the child at the grandmas doorstep, she’s bringing her tp (that’s nice) but the child is infected, and hands grandma a note. I imagined like a little filed up piece of paper in their back pocket they take out and hand over, to pass on the message from their aunt living in their house. As kids would do- what teacher hasn’t given their student a note and said “go tell mr x such and such” and the note is a reminder of what to say. But the note they hand over is also a metaphor. It symbolises contact between the grandmother and grandchild, and as grandma took it, she caught the virus too. And the note reads,

“Hide away, hide away, keep 6 feet away”

Which is that line repeated all the way through the rhyme. In the end, it’s what Miss Rhona was saying all along. Hide away children...

And the final line is a throwback to near the beginning, “she took us down” because earlier remember she came to “take us down” but now it’s happened and we’re in past tense. She did it. She took down the grandma, and possibly the child too, although I left that as ambiguous. To be taken down here is the symbol for death, of course. It’s pretty grim. But that was the point i suppose.

And that’s where it ends. Anything after that, while I’ve seen some adaptations made which sound really cool, doesn’t really make sense with the story, because they died in that moment. And continuing on after that seems a bit overkill, because I gues, perhaps symbolically at least, who would be able to continue singing the rhyme once they had already died?

But having said that, it’s still nice to see people get exited about it and want to contribute more lyrics too. Making up stories, songs, games, art in general, it’s a way we’ve found to cope i think? Like dark and morbid stories are a part of our culture because we respond to them. Lessons, feelings, etc. people far more articulate than I have explained before...

So. That’s Miss Rhona. This explanation was written really roughly and I apologise for that, but you get the gist. I strongly recommend for anyone who hasn’t already to check out the #miss Rhona recordings hashtag on my blog, because some of these melodies people have put to it are really beyond words. Dreamy, haunting. Peaceful. Childlike. Much more than the original chant-like skipping rhyme I originally envisaged.

Thanks for reading this far... please be safe and look after your grandmothers ❤️

[strawberrysoup]

Let’s Review || Chapter 11

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks.

relationship: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character/Bucky Barnes, background Peter Parker/Tony Stark rating: Explicit/18+ warnings: Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Bucky Barnes, Dark Tony Stark, Dark Avengers, kidnapping, non-con/dub-con elements, underage Peter Parker, emotional and psychological abuse, very dark 

There was a weird sense of urgency and purpose when the soldiers appeared to collect her from the kitchens. They weren’t frantic per say, but she was definitely aware of a certain energy around them. As soon as Bucky walked through the doors, he made a beeline for her and swept her up into his arms. The pair were pretty touchy feely with her as a rule, but this was different for some reason. 

Most of Penny’s irritation had dissolved with the excellent meal she’d received. Chef Cohen had prepared Shakshuka, a very traditional dish that she hadn’t eaten since her mother had died. She’d burst into tears at the first bite and thanked him profusely through the meal. He was a very kind man in his late 50’s who explained that he was at her disposal whenever she was hungry, literally at any time, and would make whatever she asked for. She didn’t even have to know what she wanted specifically, all she had to do was ask for food and he would whip something up in less than an hour. 

She wasn’t sure if he understood her circumstances. He never let on that he had any idea what the situation was and she was too afraid to tell him and potentially put him in danger. He was so nice, had told her about his family— she couldn’t do anything to jeopardize him. And if he did know, she decided she’d rather him not tell her. He felt like he could be a friend if not a confidant and she couldn’t ruin that. 

“Did you have a good breakfast precious?” Bucky’s voice was nearly a coo, burying her into his arms and nuzzling against the side of her face, “I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry we didn’t realize how hungry you were. We should’ve noticed, we should’ve taken better care of you.” 

Penny didn’t get a chance to answer before Steve came up behind her, pressing against her back and wrapping around the both of them, “we’re gonna do a better job from now on, doll, I promise.”

“We’re gonna take you to see Bruce for a check up, okay?” the brunet pressed against her brushed his lips over her temple, “Peter said you haven’t been to the doctor in a while, he’s just going to make sure you’re alright. If there’s anything you want to talk to him about, we’ll step out of the room.”

For a moment, she considered not answering. She hated that they were making her do anything, that they were telling her what was going to happen instead of asking, but she hadn’t been to a doctor in nearly 10 years. In fact, her desire to go to the doctor was outweighing her irritation. The food had helped too. 

“Yeah, okay,” she nodded in agreement, ignoring their mutual smiles as Bucky pulled back and wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her close before beginning to walk back towards the elevators. 

It didn’t take long to get to the doctor’s office, which was actually a lab. In the back of her head she remembered Tony saying that Bruce was a scientist that Peter liked to learn from. It would’ve endeared the man to her, if he wasn’t so fucking complicit in her kidnapping. The same thing had happened with Clint; he seemed like such a decent guy, they could’ve been friends in any other situation, and yet he wasn’t doing anything to help her. 

“Hey guys, come on in, I’m just finishing this up,” Bruce called from behind a computer, gesturing towards a table that almost resembled the chair from a doctor’s office. 

Steve lifted her up, setting her on the edge and giving her what was—fuck that was winning smile. She refused to let her heart race, remembering back to once upon a time in the coffee shop when she’d thought he was incredibly attractive and so, so nice. It was almost distracting. He leaned down and brushed his nose against hers sweetly, pressing a kiss there a moment later before backing away. 

“Alright Penny, I went ahead and pulled your medical records,” Penny didn’t want to know how he’d done that, what an invasion of privacy, “but we’re going to need to go through a lot of it now since you haven’t seen a doctor in so long and you’re a lot older now. If at any time you’re uncomfortable answering questions in front of Bucky and Steve, all you have to do is let me know and I’ll send them out, okay?” 

“Okay,” nervousness was thrumming through her a bit more now- God she hadn’t been to the doctor in so long, she wasn't sure what to expect. 

An arm came around her shoulders, a metal hand settling over the top of her arm. Bucky had saddled up as close to the table as possible, trying to offer comfort through his presence. She would absolutely never admit that she leaned into his heat a little, or that the attempt was even fractionally successful. 

The appointment wasn't as nerve wracking as she'd expected; there were a lot of questions about her past medical history and family medical history, her habits regarding smoking and drinking and exercise, he looked in her eyes and ears and listened to her breathing, did she have any allergies or take any medications? It was a lot of things she remembered from going to the doctor as a kid.

There was only one time when her heart felt like it might burst out of her chest: Bruce mentioned wanting to do a blood test. It was important in part because she hadn't ever had one, but also because she was Jewish and there were dozens of diseases passed genetically through the population. She knew of them of course, Tay-sachs and Gauchers and a slew of other things, but she'd never considered she could have them— there was no time. 

Luckily, he'd decided it wasn't a good time since she had barely been eating. Escape had been on her mind almost constantly since waking up in Stark's home but never so critically as when she thought there would be needles involved. Penny's fear of needles had started as a child and overtime had become an overwhelming, if irrational, phobia. The kidnapping via injection certainly made it worse too. 

Bruce finished up, continuing to address her rather than Steve or Bucky. It seemed peculiar for some reason, that he was being sure to treat her like her own person instead of the soldiers' property. 

"Have you ever had blood drawn Penny?" 

"Uhm, no," she did her best not to shift, not wanting to show weakness, "I'm sure it's not really necessary. I feel completely fine and—"

"There are certain genetically linked diseases I can test for with a blood panel. The fact that you probably have anemia is a little worrying because of your heritage. Now we can’t do the test today, you haven’t been eating or drinking enough, but we’ll keep an eye on your recovery over the next few days and schedule one. That being said, I want to hook up an IV for a few hours, you’re very dehydrated.”

“No, thank you,” Penny stood up from the table, composing her face carefully and putting her hands on her hips, “I’d rather just drink water.” 

“Penny I can tell you haven’t been getting enough hydration for days,” Bruce stated, ignoring the semi-panicked looks the soldiers sent each other, “Whatever your reasoning was, it’s hurting you. A drip will rehydrate you relatively quickly and you can get on with your day.” 

“I’m not in any critical danger, drinking water will be enough,” usually she wouldn’t argue with a doctor but if he came near her with a needle she would throw down. 

“Doll, it’s not an option.” 

God, how many times had she heard that. It’s not an option. It’s not an option. Nothing was ever an option. She’d been kidnapped, was being held against her will— fuck, she refused to list their sins against her again.

"I'm an adult, I get to decide what medical procedures I do and don't consent to."

"Baby, did you hit your head again? I think we're a little past consent." 

How many times would she have to physically fight these motherfuckers before they gave up. 

"I hate needles," she snapped, glaring at Steve with as much rage as she could muster, "no blood draws, no IVs, no vaccines, nothing."

Bucky stepped closer to her side, an imploring look on his face, "your health is suffering right now sweetheart, if Bruce says you need an IV, you're going to get it. We're going to take of you, Penny." 

They'd done a real stand up job of taking care of her in the last several days for sure. She'd only ended up drugged, concussed twice over, half starved, dangerously sleep deprived, and enraged. The skepticism must've shown on her face because Bucky visibly winced at the implication while Bruce had to turn and pretend to cough to cover his laughter. 

"Sweetheart, I understand that it makes you uncomfortable," Steve somehow managed to manifest in front of her in the blink of an eye and she startled backwards a step. 

The blond was freakishly fast and Penny was beginning to suspect that everyone calling him and Bucky 'super soldiers' weren't just mocking their demeanors. Steve had been strong enough to snap the lock on the bathroom door like twig, could bodily lift her with just one arm, and he moved a fraction of an inch too fast to be normal. Bucky was similar in the strength department, plus he had that arm. But instead of nearly vibrating with restrained power at all times, Bucky was almost preternaturally still. Even when she moved in the middle of the night and startled him awake, the only way she knew was because his eyes would open. He was so still sometimes she wondered if he even had to breathe, was his heart even beating? 

The brunette's arms came to wrap gently around her shoulders from behind; the way he held her was more reminiscent of a loving cuddle than a restraint but it worked all the same. If they didn't want her to go anywhere, it was going to be very hard to run off. The doors to the lab swept open abruptly, as if beckoning her to escape, but no one came through. JARVIS, always looking out. 

"I'll make your lives hell," she hissed through gritted teeth, eyes locked on the blond in front of her while Bucky backed them up and sat on the exam chair, tugging her into his lap, "if you come near me with a needle I'll shove it through your eye." 

"Penny, be sweet," Bucky's tone was firm, his arms squeezing around her in what she assumed was supposed to be a comforting gesture, "it'll all be okay and you'll feel so much better after."

Penny's eyes were dragged away from Steve when she caught movement, zeroing in on Bruce. He was fiddling with something in crinkly plastic and her blood froze in her veins when she realized it was a sterilized needle. He was preparing an IV despite her protests and panic began coursing through her like poison. 

"W-wait, wait I don't need an IV, I swear I feel fine, I'll drink a ton of water, don't do this—" 

"It’s gonna be alright babydoll," Steve cooed, understanding that her anger in this case was 100% a result of sheer terror, "Buck's gonna hold you the whole time. Bruce will give you a shot to numb the pain and—" 

"No, n-no, no, no please," Penny could barely move as Bucky locked his arms in place, holding her steady while Steve moved to block her view of Bruce, who was filling a syringe with lidocaine. 

"Shhhh, just watch me, baby," the blond brought his hands up to cup her face, manipulating her head to face him dead on, "don't pay attention to Bruce, just keep your eyes on mine." 

Tears of panic and fear began falling from her eyes, overwhelming terror beginning to consume her. There was no rationalizing the phobia, no talking herself through the fear, all she could think was I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die. When she could hear the doctor's footsteps shift in their direction, she opened her mouth and started to scream bloody murder. Thrashing wasn't effective in the least but she did the best she could, jerking every inch of her body as violently as possible. She couldn't hear anything any of them were saying, she couldn't even hear her own screams; all she could hear was the blood rushing through her ears and the mantra, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die over and over again in her head. 

"Dr. Banner, sir is currently on his way and asks that you wait to perform any procedures until he arrives." 

Bucky tensed under her but Penny barely noticed. The edges of her vision were going dark and Steve wasn't so much holding her face in place anymore as trying to caress her cheeks and jaw. She could see the doors to the lab, still open as if waiting for her to run.

Instead, Stark came through them. There was a tightness to his usual swagger and she wondered if she was imagining the irritation in the lines of his face. 

"You know I thought I had sound proofed all of the labs, but I can hear my poor girl screaming from three floors away," he commented casually as he swept in, easily pushing past Steve and stealing Penny from Bucky's lap,  pulling her into the cage of his arms, "now this is over an IV, correct?"

"Please, please, please—" Penny's voice choked off in a sob as she tried to tug away and make a break for the door. 

"Shhhh, angel, look at me," Tony carefully manipulated her head, making her look up at him through her panic, "you're going to drink plenty of water and relax all day, understand? You're going to eat plenty and drink so much water you have to pee every thirty minutes." 

"N-no needles—" 

"That's right baby, no needles," he pulled her into his chest and hushed her, stroking her hair gently while giving the three men behind her a careful look, "with supervision you'll be fine without an IV, but you have to be good, do everything you're told. Can you be a good girl for me, Penny?"

Steve and Bucky watched as their girl nodded against the man's shoulder, still crying. This wouldn't be strike two, not quite since she'd gotten so upset as a result of them trying to take care of her, but apprehension was setting in. Tony was their friend, but he wouldn't put their feelings before Penny's and that was a dangerous position to be in. Especially considering JARVIS had all but jumped ship on them and was firmly on Penny's side. 

"Now, is there anything else Brucie Bear? Because I think Penny here is gonna come with me to the labs and watch Peter try to make a robot." 

Somehow, despite the fact that they knew Penny hated Tony just as much if not more than she hated them, he was the one who managed to get through to her. Tony Stark was her mortal enemy, the kidnapper, the pedophile, and yet he was the one holding her while she cried in distress. Bucky and Steve watched on in amazement and disbelief. 

There was something about Tony that was just a touch unnatural. The way he could manipulate people was almost beyond comprehension. It showed in his friendships, the way that people who were sent to kill him were so easily turned to his side. People who didn’t want anyone, who didn’t want friends, found themselves enfolded in his presence. It was also apparent in the way that Peter had almost accepted his new situation, how he was so quickly coming to terms with the way his life had changed. Tony Stark was, as far as anyone knew, not enhanced in any way, but some of his companions had started to wonder. 

They watched as the older man spirited her away, talking loudly and keeping her tucked under his arm as they walked. Steve and Bucky were left in the dust, feeling dejected once again. 

“Leave it to Tony to decide he has more medical authority than me,” Bruce gave a low snort, rolling his eyes, “does he have 7 PHDs? No, he doesn't.” 

“We keep fuckin’ it up, don’t we?” Bucky groaned, watching the doctor step back towards his computer system, “We’re gonna end up dead. World War II and HYDRA couldn’t kill us but Tony fuckin’ Stark sure will.” 

“Hard to compete with a Goddamn witch,” Steve muttered, running a hand through his hair before crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You two need to be doing what Tony is with Peter,” Bruce interjected before the super soldiers could continue to lament their situation, “he panders to him just enough to keep him happy. He can give an inch and Peter thinks its a mile. You’re strategic geniuses, master interrogators, use your strengths.” 

The ‘dumbasses’ was implied at the end of the statement. In all fairness, he was right. 

Steve exhaled through his nose, a stabilizing breath, before turning to regard Bucky, “A garden, to start. She had a lot of things on her Pinterest account, we’re gonna look through there. JARVIS? Can you please make sure our kitchen is stocked with plenty of kosher foods?” 

“And is there anyway we can get the extra room in the apartment turned into a garden? Maybe a rooftop garden?” 

“Sir has given me full discretion to green light any construction projects that will aid in Ms. Parker’s adjustment. A section of the roof can easily be cleared for a garden and greenhouse. The east facing wall of the spare room can be replaced with floor to ceiling windows and UV lights can be installed. Might I also suggest a knitting area?”

"Yeah, that," Bucky nodded, "any other suggestions JARV?" 

"On her Pinterest Ms. Parker has shown interest in softball, soccer, crocheting, yoga and video games."

"Can you have everything she needs for those things sent for and brought to the apartment? And have everything set up as much as possible considering the renovations that'll be made for the garden room?"

"Yes sergeant, although I would suggest making room in your personal gym for Ms. Parker do to yoga."

“Good idea JARVIS,” Bucky felt a bit of relief that the AI was willing to help, even if it was only because it would help Penny in the long run, “I know we talked about keeping her secluded but I think we should show her the game room, introduce her to Thor and Sam so she can play video games with them.” 

Steve looked hesitant. The brunet knew why; they’d waited what felt like so long to find a girl who appealed to both of them. They were possessive by nature and having so little over time, growing up in the Great Depression followed by fighting in the war, only to suffer a hellish betrayal and go into the ice for so long, meant they were covetous. Sharing their girl so soon was uncomfortable and just the idea made both of them chafe. 

“Yeah, we should,” he choked after a moment, clearing his throat. 

“We’re gonna build a life, Stevie,” Bucky said quietly, stepping closer to the man and putting his hands on his shoulders, “we’re going to work this out with our girl and eventually, she’ll want to be with us as much as she can. But until we get to that point we have to make some concessions.” 

“But she’ll still sleep in our bed.”

“Yes Stevie, she’ll still sleep in our bed.” 

[sahbibabe]

A Mission For One

A Mission For One

Soulmate AU

Sephiroth/Fem! Reader

You are given the details of your mission. It wasn't your intention to be crippling the last of the previous AVALANCHE's funding, nor was it to face the risk of seeing Hojo ever again.

RENO, JUST LIKE RUFUS had said, showed up the very next day, just shy of seven in the morning. He didn't have Rude with him, which was unusual, and instead had a lowly grunt with him. He had a briefcase in one hand and his weapon in the other, shooting you a grin when you opened the door.

     "Ready to get started?" He asked, pushing past you to set up on one of the tables. He opened the briefcase with a flourish. "Might wanna sit down because I have a lot of stuff to tell you and not a whole lot of time."

       You locked the shop door and sat down across from him, eyeing the grunt who positioned his back to it with a rifle in hand. "Was it necessary to bring the gun inside?"

      "Him? Nah." Reno pulled out a file as thick as your fingers put together and set it aside. "Right, first thing I have to tell you is to hold out your arm."

        You did so obediently. "What for?"

      "This." Reno gave you no warning other than a smirk, and plunged what looked like a five gauge needle into your wrist. He injected a clear substance into you and, before you had time to jerk away, was done. "There. Your Shinra access chip. After the fiasco with keycards and AVALANCHE last year, we decided on these bad boys to secure the system. As long as you're alive, calm, and healthy, you can get anywhere you want to. I think the boss gave you B-Level clearance until you pass your physicals, then will up it to A-Level after that."

       You felt dread settle in the pit of your gut. You had never owned anything as much as D-Level access in your entire life, and that was just to attend a small court session to set up your tea shop and legally sell tea from Shinra suppliers. B-Level was a high jump, and giving you A-Level access after? Those were the same permissions that only Rufus's seconds in command got, only less to Rufus himself.

      "Reno," you asked slowly,"what the hell am I going to be doing that requires A-Level access?"

      "A lot of things," he whistled, thumbing through a plastic card case and pulling out an ID card with your face plastered on it. "Assassination, murder, espionage, sabotage, take your pick. The things we Turks can't do and get away with easily."

       The bad feeling in your stomach told you it was a bit more than that. You let it slide when he handed you the ID, noting the fluorescent finish on it and the expensive plastic it was made of, as well as the giant Shinra logo printed beside your head with a script reading 'VIP: DO NOT ENGAGE' along with your VIP permissions underneath, which extended to free hotel stays, you noticed.

       "What's this?" You asked, watching it shine in the light. "I already have an ID."

      "Yeah, but not one that's special like that." Reno then pulled out a manilla file almost as thick as the one he had brought out before, except this one had giant red confidential stamps all over it and was sealed with Rufus's personal seal. "It can get you anywhere and everywhere, just like the Turks, and more. Flash that thing and anyone will think twice about stopping you. Murder is easy with a card like that."

      "I'd imagine," you said, a little choked. You had, quite literally, just gotten federal permission to commit murder. Freely. In an effort to distract yourself from the fact that you'd just been given a 'free for all' card, you tapped the first file he'd pulled out. "And these?"

      "Paperwork for the doctor who does the exam." Reno shrugged when you gawked at the sheer size of it. "I know. It's a lot. But it only takes an hour. Drug tests and blood tests and all that. Even STD tests."

      You placed it aside in favor of the packet he now held. "I'm guessing those are my mission details?"

      "More like your trial targets," Reno supplied vaguely. "You won't officially start them until next week. You'll have a month to finish all of them. You can read up on them and memorize them until then."

      In Reno's hands laid the lives of the people you were about to take forever. Permanently. And it wasn't even what you were being recruited for; they were tests. That was it.

      He handed it to you and you broke the seal, pulling out one of the targets. A photo had been blown up to visible proportions, blurry and grainy, but you could make out the face well enough, recognized it even: one of AVALANCHE's older benefactors, a man by the name of Michael Dallien.

       He had donated a total of three million gil to the cause shortly after the mako reactor went down, you read, and had been funneling smaller sums to them ever since under the guise of fundraisers. At the bottom, stamped in blue, was the price of his bounty: four million gil, plus a bonus for delivering visceral proof.

       Which meant Rufus wanted his head. Literally.

       "As you can see, you'll get paid more than the three million gil for whoever you kill," Reno explained, pointing to a section near the bottom. "There will be others competing with you, though, but they aren't doing it with the accesses that you have. They work for other corporations wanting to overthrow Shinra. If you get to them first, the other corporations won't be able to nab their resources and bam, you get paid and you move on to the next one."

       The more people you found in the packet, the higher the bounties became, until you came upon a bounty on Rufus Shinra himself, priced right around one million gil.

      "What the hell?" You breathed, showing Reno the picture. "What does this mean?"

      "That leads me to your official assignment." The redhead plucked the paper from your hands and pointed to the list of mercs slated for the job; you weren't on it. "Our little Public Relations guy, Heidegger, put this up a few weeks ago. I doubt he knew we bugged his personal computer, but he's enlisted several attempts on the boss's life in the next couple of months. Now, the Turks aren't invincible, some are bound to slip through the cracks. That's where you will come in."

       "You want me to protect Rufus Shinra," you deadpanned,"because the Turks can't."

       "Hey, it isn't for lack of trying. He has so many enemies it's hard to keep track of. We keep eyes on the outside, you keep eyes on the internals. Simple."

      "You mean people like Heidegger and Scarlet," you supplied, realization dawning on you. "It's not because you can't, it's because you can't do it without everyone knowing who did it."

      Reno winked and pointed a finger at you. "Bingo. I knew you'd put it together. Rude owes me fifty gil."

      "That explains the ID," you sighed, waving the card around flimsily. You tucked everything into a neat pile in front of you. "Anything else?"

      "Yep. I took the liberty of pulling some strings and getting you a female doctor to perform your physical." Reno leaned back and crossed his arms, the grunt shifting nervously behind you. "Figured you wouldn't want Hojo snooping around in your insides again."

       The sudden horror you felt had you speechless. Hojo was supposed to do your physical? Hojo had none of the specifications for that, last you had heard, and that was when he was injecting your eyeballs with some dark fluid. To have him examining you from head to toe, even for the gynecology exam because it had to be on there too, made you want to throw up at the idea.

      "Other than that, though, all you have to do is get your Shinra tech fitted and your uniform. It's all unbranded so no one will be able to trace us if you get caught, and made with synthetic material that also can't be traced. You'll have to check with the boss about your weapons. Can't go to Scarlet." Reno seemed to be checking off some list and nodded to himself. "That's it, I think. Rude will drop by later and give you your rental keys."

      You were still caught up on Hojo doing your physical exam, even after Reno dismissed himself and headed out of the shop. It disgusted you on so many levels that as soon as you tucked your files away into your floorboards and put your ID in your wallet, you went to the bathroom to hurl up your breakfast.

      None of what Hojo did to you was memorable after the initial injection, but you recalled him speaking of something like,"Let Her see through your eyes," but it was muffled behind the wall of pain you felt. You remembered the pinch of an IV, trying to open your eyes and only feeling your eyelids as swollen as golf balls, and feeling nurses walk in and out to switch your dressing gown.

      Hojo would check, occasionally, prying your swollen lids apart and testing the tears and occasional pus that would stream out, ignoring your crying and screaming indignantly. He pressed the swelling, irritated them, scraped samples from your waterline, and then fed tubes into them to drain the pus out. It never ended well, because it would soon grow clogged with that black material he had put in, like a coagulated gummy pile of rot. You never bled, but the sheer amount of tears you produced left you dehydrated and desperate for water.

      You were one hundred percent certain he had also done something to your reproductive system, because after that, your cycles just became nightmares, even more so towards you leaving after he deemed you a failure. You never checked, though, too scared and poor to afford an exam, even when you now had the money and means to do so.

     But now you had to because of the stupid physical exam. Hojo had ruined you in more ways than you could say, and it was no wonder you lied to everyone in your life. You were petrified of trust because you, once upon a time, had trusted him to help you. That had been a mistake.

       Never again.

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

asks (26)

@spickerzocker​ said:

hey there! just a heads up that i tried to click on the "why i don't ship" explanation link in your faq and it says that there is no post with that url/it's generally broken. also your "a conversation about recovery" thing is beautiful and hurts in the best way and i love it. have a nice day!

Yes, I intentionally took that link down awhile ago, and last night I went and updated some of the tabs on my blog. Here are my basic thoughts:

I wrote that link years and years ago, while I was first navigating the internet and while I was still figuring out important things about my own identity and opinions. I ran my blog differently back then, but by the end of the first few months, I knew I was uncomfortable with shipping. 

As people began to interact with me and my work, I told them over and over again no, I don’t want to talk about that, and I don’t want to write about it, and it makes me uncomfortable. I don’t think that was a common position to take at the time, so it wasn’t what people expected from me. 

During those years, I felt like I had to justify myself and give a valid explanation. I wrote that post explaining why I had that boundary, and I put it in a place where anyone could find it.

I said no when people asked, let them make jokes about it, and made jokes about it myself in response. As time went on I got more and more exasperated when I had to repeat myself. I wrote definite rules into my ask box, request tab, and FAQ. People still asked. I wrote it into my description. People still asked. 

The truth is yeah, there’s a pretty simple explanation for my discomfort. It makes sense. It’s easy to understand, and most folks think it’s a “good enough” reason to leave me alone. The difference between young-me and current-me is that I no longer feel the need to justify myself. 

None of y’all need to know why I set the boundaries that I set. My explanation isn’t relevant, and I’m not obligated to give it. I said no. That’s enough. 

I think a good number of folks remember my explanation from the past, and I don’t mind that at all. There may be a time where I talk about it again, in a more appropriate context, so I guess we’ll see.

That’s a lot of information in response to a very helpful ask. Thanks! The link is gone now, and I’m so pleased that you enjoyed the fic :)

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Anonymous said:

U suck

Kenza sent this anon as a joke. She’s right, and I thank her. 

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Anonymous said:

I'm a doctor and ive seen it all.....but the milk fic made me gag

Excellent

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@wingedskyes said:

Ah. Wait. I wasn't on anon....uhm. oh well. It's fine. I like milk and am not ashamed. 😆

I don’t think I received another message from you actually, but I too like milk and I’m glad we’re on the same page

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@thelittleredheadedmusician said:

To add to the milk discussions: my best friend from home and best friend from college have each finished a gallon a milk by themselves within 2 days.

I do that too, every once in awhile. When the milk craving hits it’s a gallon a day

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Anonymous said:

"TIM! POUR HIM. A GLASS OF M A L K!"

Hold on I have to google some things

Yeah this is funny

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Anonymous said:

I have read that milk fic three separate times and every time I’m laughing just as hard as Tim and dick by the end it’s just so excellently executed and builds so perfectly that by the time dick cracks I’m ready to go too and I just lose it it’s amazing I love it

Awww anon I’m so pleased :)

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@the-smartass-under-the-mountain said:

Just wanted to drop by and say your recent fic with Tim antagonizing Damian with increasingly outrageous milk concoctions had me giggling. It was so cute and refreshing to see Dick enjoying Tim's little prank. And Bruce's reaction to just... walk away was fantastic!

Thank you! I’m always so thrilled when y’all think the jokes hit

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@njtheboywonder​ said:

I havnt really enjoyed a fic in years, but i stopped to read ur fanfic with tim drinking milk just to fuck w dami amd it made me smile. Thanks, for writing it.

Oh that warms my heart <3

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@bruciewayneisbatman​ said:

Tim Is totally the guy who would drink ridiculous amounts of dalgona coffee to annoy damian, according to that fic.

Had to google that one, but I guess so huh

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Anonymous said:

(diff anon) but that birthday fic was so good oml and you have opened my eyes as to the batfam in quarantine this is such a Concept

We’re all here dying..... together...

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Anonymous said:

Happy birthday! 🎉 or belated! 🎂 thank you for being in the fandom. 😊

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Anonymous said:

To anon! Sorry. I forgot to add that! Anyway, thanks to them we get a lovely fic. I hope you have many more birthdays! 😊

Message for you anon

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Anonymous said:

Your writing gives off good vibes

Hear that guys I “passed my vibe check.” Is that what the youth say these days? I am an elder now and I do not know

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Anonymous said:

finding your blog while being relatively new to batman fandom is such a bliss. your batfam content especially is *chef's kiss* amazing.

Thank you my darling :) I’m glad you’re here

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Anonymous said:

Best line in a fic? Hard to pick just one, but this particular one from "Just Desserts" by fyeahbatmanandrobin on Tumblr is one of my faves: “Anyone else would be hard-pressed to provide the particular brand of excitement you bring to my life, Dami.”

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@noisypaintersong​ said:

For the line thing: "I don't doubt it. Bruce Wayne, the unexpectedly normal guy wrapped in a mystery wrapped in a superhero wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a fake socialite wrapped in a businessman wrapped in a secretive billionaire." He paused. "…You're the seven-layer burrito of Gotham," he pondered. - Barry to Bruce in 'Of Friends and Foes' by Paganpunk2 on FFN. It's one of the funniest things I've read someone say to Bruce LOL

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@kirakats​ submitted:

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Anonymous said:

“I do know that according to everyone else, there is no chance, no future, no universe where I stay a hero.” Describes my frustration with the way DC treats Damian so accurately. Let the kid be a hero dammit.

Thanks! That’s really helpful. I’ve got a decent answer to my question now. 

@kurawastaken​ submitted:

So this is Kenza retaliating against me for the milk fic. I very much hate tomatoes and specifically ketchup. This photo (1) is a nightmare and (2) fulfills its intended purpose.

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Anonymous said:

I love your blog!!!

And I love you 

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Anonymous said:

quick question: how do you think jason reconciles with the fam?? i think in the comics they kinda just reboot and now he’s on better terms. but like what conversations happened, yknow??? (you’re doin great work by the way, it rips out my heart but it’s great)

This is an amazing question, and I’ll be thinking about it for the next bit, I think. That would be a really interesting topic to explore in depth

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@angel-gidget​ said:

*hugs you real tight* would you please send this to the first 10 people in your dash? Make sure someone gets a hug today and stay safe!

Oh thank you for the hug <3

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Anonymous said:

I hadn’t been aware of that Memphis petition, but I live in Memphis too (Altho I know you said you just grew up there so you may not be living here currently haha) so ig I just wanted to say thanks for bringing it to my attention!

!!!

I’ve been in Texas for six years now, ever since I started school, but I’m still in and out of Memphis for family purposes. Love the trash heap of my birth 

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@damianwaynerocks​ said:

hey! any chance you know of any other dc heroes around damian’s age?

Sure! You could try Billy Batson, Jon Kent, or Maya Ducard

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Anonymous said:

hi! i don't know if it's okay to leave anons like these but ive been feeling down because my country has passed a bill that deprives us of lots of human rights freedom and i want you to know that i just found your blog through the damian/bruce + justice fic and it comforted me. im slowly going thru your works and so far they are all comforting. i love your stuff, thank you.

Philippines? I’ve heard some things, and I’m real sorry y’all’re going through that. I don’t know that there’s anything I could say about that to help, but I hope you’re finding joy somewhere

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@awesomeness-ofgaybitches​ said:

Tumblr hates you. The links in your bio and to your fic masterlist don't work on mobile. I'm sorry.

FUCK