#ive never had a band ive wanted to see live so badly before. ive never really cared tbh

[driftwoodskeleton]

dropping subtle hints that i wanna see Ghost in concert more than anything by saying things like "i wanna see Ghost in concert more than anything" to my mum at every opportunity. i am very subtle and chill all of the time

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley/female reader This is the last part before the epilogue

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise honey, remember?” You nod, but your eyes stay glued to the windshield, tracking the raindrops sliding on and off the glass. “Hey,” he reaches for your hand, pulling it into his grasp, “it’s okay. You’re safe.”

“I’m with you.” You repeat the mantra, the one you repeat in the shower, in bed, in the living room. I’m safe. I’m with you. 

He wants to look away from the road so badly long enough to see your eyes, really see them. It’s how he knows where you are, if you’re there, or here, or somewhere else. Just in case, he reminds you. “The kids are with Gaz and Cami. Soap is sleeping in the guest room. They’re all together, and they’re safe.” You nod again, but answer as a robot.

“They’re safe.” He can’t do it. He pulls the car over and you turn in alarm, watching as he steps around to the passenger side door and pulls it wide, dropping to his knee.

“Look at me-“

“You’re getting wet!” You sputter, grabbing at his jacket, but he stills you.

“Look at me, mama.” Your eyes are full of tears, and he cups your cheek. “Where are you?” Your lip wobbles.

“That room.” He pries your fingers open and places your palm over his chest.

“What’s that?”

“Your heart.”

“Your heart, sweet girl. It’s yours. Count them for me.” You shake your head, clenching your eyes shut, and he squeezes your knee. “Deep breath. Count them.”

“O-one, two, thr-we, four…” he does it with you, quietly, supporting, but not coaching. Not leading. You have to do it, you have to bring yourself back. “F-ive… five, six, seven, eight, nine…” each beat steadies your voice until you’re sitting a little straighter, breathing a little deeper.

“There she is. There’s my girl.” He wipes a tear from your cheek, “that’s it.”

“Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen…” you reach twenty five, and then give him a nod. He is thoroughly soaked now, but who cares. It’s not even close to what matters.

“Where are you?” He presses a slow kiss to your forehead.

“I’m here, with you.” You meet his gaze, clear and focused, and he nods.

“Okay.”

“You could have told me.”

“Not as fun, mama, I wanted it to be a surprise.” You’re standing in the middle of the room, looking around, smiling. It’s the same room he brought you to years ago. The room where he put the ring on your finger, the room you told him you’d spend the rest of your life, his life, together. The curtains are the same, the decor, even the bedspread.

“Si,” your voice wavers, and he pulls you into his arms, holding you against his chest.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes.”

You're surprisingly not nervous at all, though he's not that shocked. You have a few tattoos, medium sized, black and grey like his. No sleeves or anything that extensive, but you picked up a small collection during your travels. 

"Wait... are you serious?" You squeak, eyeing the chair and then the guy sitting beside it, Mark, the same guy that's done almost all of Simon's work. Simon's still not sure how he convinced him to come out here and do this, but he suspects the sentimental piece of this occasion had a lot to do with it. "What... what is it?" Simon glances at him, and then nods, holding his breath as he pulls the stencil out of the binder to lay it flat in front of you. 

It's a ring. Black and grey to match your other tattoos, but the same shape, band, everything, as the one you lost. Except- 

The stone frames three constellations. Orion, Phoenix and... "Lyra." You whisper, tracing the line work. You look up at him with tears in your eyes. "Orpheus and Eurydice." 

"Everyone says it's a tragedy, y'know? That he failed. But those people have never felt the way I feel about you." His throat is unbearably tight, and he swallows to keep it together. "They don't know how I'd go to hell to bring you home, they don't know how desperate I'd be to look back and and make sure you're still there with me," he breathes deep through his nose, chasing away the tidal wave rising in his chest. Mark, thankfully, has decided to pretend to be busy with something else. "They don't know how I'd let myself be ripped apart just to see you again. To spend eternity with you." 

"Simon..." 

"You don't have to do it," he rushes out, squeezing your hand, "just say so, and we'll leave. I won't be mad." You reach for him, tugging him close by his wrist and standing up on your tiptoes, trying to bury your face in his neck, seeking you safe space. 

"I love you. I love... I love you." He brushes your tears away. "I want it. Yes, of course. I want it." 

"You sure?" You cast one last look at the drawing, and nod. 

"Eternity with you." He smiles. 

"Eternity." 

[earlgreydream]

memory.

| Steve Rogers x reader | angst |

anon requested. the reader loses their memory and like the love interest suffers because they never remember them

“Steve, she was in an accident,” Bucky stopped Steve before he could burst into your hospital room, where Shuri and Dr. Banner were tending to you. 

“Let me in, let me see Y/N!” Steve shouted. 

“You can, but there was a head injury. Y/N hasn’t woken up yet. You just need to be prepared, Steve,” Bucky spoke gently, holding his best friend back. 

Steve’s panic only heightened, and Bucky followed him into the hospital room. Shuri moved out of the way, standing to the side with Banner. 

Steve felt like he was going to fall apart at the sight of you. You laid in the bed, looking pathetic and weak. You were badly bruised and scraped, and there was a gash on the side of your head. Bucky hung back in the doorway, hurting for the both of you, the two people closest to him in his life. 

“Steve-” Shuri started, but Banner stopped her. 

“Y/N, baby,” Steve breathed, running up to you. You jerked back, pain throbbing through your entire body at the sudden movement. A monitor started beeping, indicating that your heart was racing. 

“Baby, it’s okay,” Steve tried to calm you down, shocked by your startled reaction to him. 

“Get away from me!” You cried, and Steve stepped back like he was wounded.

“Y/N...?”

“I don’t, I don’t know you!” You started to sob, frightened by the large man that you didn’t recognize. Banner sighed, and Shuri and Bucky went to Steve, pulling him away.

“Steve, she hit her head. She’s having memory loss,” Shuri explained quietly. 

“But, I’m her husband-”

“I know.”

“When will her memory come back?” Steve demanded, shaken and in disbelief.

“We don’t know. Steve, you need to understand that it may not come back.” Shuri tried to be gentle, but Steve sank into Bucky, the weight of her words nearly making him collapse. 

“Breathe, Steve.”

Steve sat beside your hospital bed. You had slipped into unconsciousness, sedated by Banner to help you heal. Steve had stayed out of your room after the frightened reaction, but he needed to be close. The sun had set, and he was spending the night in your room, holding your hand as you slept. Tears stained Steve’s face, devastated by the fact you didn’t recognize him, your injuries, and seeing you in the hospital. 

He sat up when your eyes opened, and he couldn’t make himself release your hand. You looked a little confused, and very sleepy. They had been careful to give you plenty of sedation to keep you from having another panic attack. Your heartbeat was weak, and you had a bad concussion. That was on top of a sprained wrist, several fractured ribs, and the numerous bruises, cuts, and scrapes. 

“Y/N,” Steve breathed softly, and you blinked slowly.

“Are you a doctor?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes with your free hand.

“No, baby, I’m your husband,” Steve whispered. 

You froze and stared at him, stunned. You looked down at your hands, surprised to see a ring on your left hand. The silver band had tiny diamonds, and Steve’s hand that held yours had another silver band. Hot tears started to slide down your cheeks, overwhelmed by the thoughts racing through your sedated mind. 

“I don’t remember you, I don’t even remember your name... The doctor showed me a picture of us, but I don’t remember anything, I barely even remember who I am,” you sobbed, and Steve felt nauseated. 

“I’m Steve, Steve Rogers. We got married two years ago, in Brooklyn. Bucky Barnes was my best man, and Wanda Maximoff was your maid of honor. Tony Stark walked you down the aisle... He’s like your dad...” Steve explained, his voice shaking as he tried to keep himself from crying. 

“Bucky...” you murmured, squeezing your eyes shut. His name sounded familiar, but every memory before waking up in the hospital was gone.

“Yes. Bucky is my best friend. Yours too. We’re really close, he lived with us for a year.” 

“I’m sorry, I don’t...”

“It’s okay. All your memory isn’t going to come back now.”

“Steve, Y/N needs to rest,” Shuri spoke, leaning in the doorway.

He nodded tightly, rubbing his eyes. She emptied more sedative into your IV, helping you slip back into dreamless sleep. She dragged Steve out, and Bucky stood in the hallway, pulling him into his arms. He squeezed Steve, promising it was going to be okay. 

Steve sat with you, chatting quietly when you were awake. He showed you photos from your wedding, and pictures of your small tabby cat that you adored. Bucky snuck her into the hospital, and you pet her head shyly, hating yourself for your lack of memory. 

“Steve?” you asked, sitting up in the bed, but struggling under the weakness of your muscles. 

“Yes, baby?” he set down his laptop, giving you his full attention the moment he asked. 

“You said that Tony Stark walked me down the aisle at our wedding? And that he’s like my dad?” You asked, and Steve felt his heart sink. 

“Yeah, Tony is like your dad,” he said dryly, showing you a photo. 

“I think that I remember growing up in a penthouse with him... but only when I was a teenager. I think, I don’t know for sure. Why?” you struggled to recall.

Over the last few days, bits and pieces started to return to your mind, and you remembered cooking in a sleek penthouse with Tony when you couldn’t have been older than 17. 

“Yeah. Stark adopted you when you were ten. Your parents were in a car accident. He was really close with your father. You love Tony, he took really great care of you. He wants to come see you once we’re home from the hospital.”

You nodded slowly, taking it in. You didn’t know how to express the pain and confusion you felt, and you shyly reached your hand out to Steve. He took it, gently squeezing.

“Steve, I’m so sorry. I want to remember...”

“Don’t apologize, my love.”

Steve had assured you a million times that he could take you to Tony’s, or that he could even rent you an apartment if you didn’t feel comfortable coming home with him. Your memory had barely returned, despite little pieces and isolated moments. 

Truly, you were terrified to be alone, because then, you were left with nothing, not even memories. You felt safe with Steve, even if you didn’t remember your history together. He’d stayed up with you, showing you photos and telling you stories, and patiently answering every question you asked.

Steve drove you to your brownstone on the Upper East Side, carrying you indoors. Bucky was waiting, having moved back in to help and be supportive. The flat smelled like homemade bread, welcoming you inside. Steve mouthed a thank-you to Bucky, who nodded silently. 

You convinced Steve to let you down so you could walk and look around. 

“Can I have some of the bread?” you asked, shyly setting your hand on Bucky’s arm.

“Yes, of course, Y/N.” 

You sat down, trying not to act like you were exhausted just from walking around the flat. Steve knew, and it seemed that Bucky did too. You may not have known them, but they knew you. 

“I’m so sorry,” Steve said softly, and he kissed your head gently. 

You had hoped that coming home would jog your memory, but nothing came. It felt like the first time you’d ever been, and you started crying as you sat between the men. 

“The only thing I can remember is going to high school prom with both of you... I don’t remember anything before or anything after, I’m so sorry,” you sobbed, and Steve pulled you into his arms, his own shoulders shaking. Bucky gently laid his hand on your back, trying to comfort you.

You felt lost, Steve nearly as much. There was nothing he could do, nothing either of you could do.

[iceeckos12]

tma fic recs

I’ve seen a couple of fic rec posts floating around. since ive been reading so many excellent fic recently, i thought that id make one as well! please note this list is going to be 99% jonmartin. also buckle up, because this is going to get long.

Completed

the umbrella by Wildehack (tyleet)

"And to think—all of Jonah Magnus’ carefully laid plans, the centuries of scheming, the murders, the sacrifices, all of that work could have been completely undone if Martin Blackwood had gone back for an umbrella" - holdthosebees

Notes: This is probably my go-to fic if i want an apocalypse never happened scenario. The jonmartin is wonderful, as is the h/c.

Diary and Prenon-nous la main by luftballoons99

Diary summary:

Not for the first time since they ran away together, a camera reel of all the things they don't know about one another whirs behind Martin's eyes, and he can't help but look at all the sprawling magnetic tape and wonder if they’re going to wind up a romance or a tragedy.

or: Office parties, garage bands, and the joy of being known.

Prenon-nous la main summary:

They still haven't talked about it, any of it, not even to pass the time on the long train ride to Scotland. Instead, Martin fell asleep in the seat next to him, pressed into his side from shoulder to knee, and Jon thought about love confessions and verb tense and how the two fit together when you think you're dying.

or: Good cows, mediocre poetry, and other crucial topics of discussion.

Notes: Do you love impeccable safehouse jonmartin characterization? do you love characters grappling with the mortifying ordeal of being known? do you love softness so tender that it makes you want to weep? please read these fic. im begging you.

i’ll tell you about all the times i’ve smiled because of you by cryptidkidprem

Summary:

Martin thinks about their shoes, sitting beside each other on the floor by the bed. Thinks of the way Jon wears Martin’s cardigans more often than he wears his own, the way Martin’s started keeping elastics around his wrist because Jon always forgets his own when they go out.

He thinks about all the gentle touches and fussing over each other they’ve done, and how much is still to come over the next… however long Jon will have him.

They have a long way to go, an entire life to build out of the wreckage Jonah Magnus and Peter Lukas left them, but laying together in a comfortable, sleepy quiet, Martin thinks they’ve got a good start going.

Or, Jon quits the Institute, saves the world, and it turns out to be exactly what he needs in order to heal and start moving forward towards building a life with Martin.

Notes: how many times have i reread this fic? more than i can count. jon quits the institute and it’s just full of soft jonmartins. they get married! god i love them.

go softly by doomcountry

Summary:

And there is nothing else besides this.

Notes: every time i remember this fic i reread it. please heed the tags because martin is blinding jon, but he’s like. blinding jon in the most heartbreaking way possible. idk how the author made this so tender but i know i was certainly crying so!

The Reverb in These Holy Halls by  Wolftraps (AlwaysBoth)

Summary:

Undoing the apocalypse would have been enough for Jon, if all his people survived. Without them, Jon's only recourse is making it so it never happened in the first place. He's going to do better this time.

Notes: Do you like time travel fixits? i sure like time travel fixits. reverb is an excellent one. heavy on the h/c, I wanted to hug jon so so badly. 

Yesterday is Here by  CirrusGrey

Summary:

"Who the hell are you?" Jon could feel his hands shaking. The man laughed, taking a step forward and raising a hand to point at him. "I'm you, from the future!" he said, then swayed, eyes going unfocused, and collapsed to the floor in a dead faint. -------- Post-season-four Jon and Martin time travel back to the season one Archives.

Notes: Yet another time travel fixit! also excellent. the teasing was HYSTERICAL. also Im just going to say this now - CirrusGrey in general writes incredible tma fic. You can’t really go wrong.

unassigned supplementals by  bibliocratic 

Notes: I won’t put in a summary just because it’s a long series of oneshots, but bibliocratic’s writing is amazing. Again, you can’t really go wrong with one of their fic!

let the soft animal of your body by autoclaves

Summary:

Standing in the warm kitchen, slats of sepia light filtering through onto the counter in front of him, Martin doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He half expects them to go through the countertop entirely, glossy and solid as it is. He isn’t used to any of it, yet. The safehouse. Jon. Beams of sun pouring into his hands. After being deprived of everything of significance for so long, the longing that crashes over him is almost painful in its tangibility. He wants to laugh, to sob, to scream and hear it echoed back against the neat, square walls of the safehouse.

In the end, he doesn’t do any of these things. He makes eggs instead. He can do that, can’t he? Use his hands for something simple and plain and good.

(Or: In the safehouse after it all, Martin starts cooking.)

Notes: this fic really speaks to me a) because i project on martin like crazy and b) because food is also my love language. this fic is incredibly soft and it’s all about cooking!

“Have you tried turning it on and off again?” by shinyopals

Summary:

I hope you find your new role as Head of the Institute as rewarding as captaining the Tundra, wrote Elias Bouchard, to Peter Lukas. There are so many people working there: all with their own interesting lives, and all desiring your attention and support. I'm sure you will relish the challenge it will bring and enjoy every moment spent with the fine men and women of the Institute. In time I'm confident they'll become like a family to you.

The Magnus Institute has a new boss. The Magnus Institute also has a new tech support technician. These two facts are unrelated, except they both happen at the same time.

Meanwhile Jon's woken up from being dead for six months and for once he's trying his best. He just wishes Martin would stop avoiding him and answer his messages...

Notes: if you’re looking for a good laugh, this fic is SO SO SO FUNNY. i was dying. basically the magnus institute being an absolute bureaucratic nightmare.

hello my old heart  by  firebirdsuite

Summary:

Peter’s wrong, of course. When it’s all over, Martin does still want to tell Jon everything. It’s just—well, there’s a few things they need to work through first before they can get there.

Martin and Jon find each other again in Scotland.

Notes: it’s all about the yearning. and trust me, the yearning in this fic? im just. i sure do love jonmartin, and this is such soft, loving jonmartin it just makes you want to cry

two ships passing by pyrites

Summary:

Gerard Keay is 10 years old the very first time he tries to run away from home, right around the time that Jonathan Sims has just come into possession of his first Leitner.

Or: One dropped stone can change the way the whole ocean moves.

Notes: again, JONGERRY. MY GOODNESS. this fic is beautiful, the writing is absolutely breathtaking and it owns my heart. im so in love with it. the author said you’re going to have emotions about jon and gerry and jongerry and i said OKAY

Terminal Sight by viv_is_spooky

Summary:

Spider silk weaves through the visions of two Seers. Monstrosity is dawning on them both.

Notes: I’d never read a gerryoliver fic before this, but the execution is EXCELLENT and now im sold on the ship forever. This fic has wonderful prose and great characterization and i love it a whole lot.

Incomplete

assistant archivist au by  PitViperOfDoom

Notes: I won’t put a summary since I’m reccing an entire series, but. it is absolutely no secret that i adore jongerry. pit’s assistant archivist au slapped me over the head with some gorgeous jongerry oneshots and then gave me the gift of the main fic (which is still in progress) about head archivist martin. i love this au so so much

dustsceawung by  callmearcturus

Summary:

Martin had always been favored by the summer courts, and moving up north to the little village of Lacuna is a difficult adjustment. It's rainy and lonely and everyone seems to have a strange, distant relationship with the local faerie court.

However: there is a strange man in a cloak who walks past Martin's remote little cottage every few days.

However: there is a moth that keeps getting stuck in Martin's house during the rain.

These events are not as disconnected as they first appear.

Notes: you ever just read a fic that you didn’t know that you needed until after you read it? yeah. featuring the fae and moth jon and excellent characterization.

Illicio by ThatOneGirlBehindYou

As the new Archivist debates between life and death, the Eye ponders on what to offer him in order to avoid an encore of the unfortunate situation with his predecessor.

-----

Gerard Keay opens his eyes at what feels like fuck-ass in the morning, inside a room with far too little space and far too much dust.

Notes: This is also the moment where I reveal that im a sucker for jongerrymartin. please read this fic. gerry is brought back from the dead in s4 and everyone is far better off for it.

where there’s a will, we make a way by bubonickitten

Summary:

"So, what does happen if an Eye learns to See within itself?

What happens is this: the Archive Beholds the Watcher – and the Watcher blinks first."

________________________

Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

Notes: this time travel fixit is shaping up to be an absolutely incredible read. i love the way this author writes jon so so much, and the characterization is spot on. this whole fic just satisfies some little part of me. god. also!! bubonickitten’s writing in general? beautiful. please check out their other works.

The Timeline of Theseus by Applea

Jon tries to force the Spiral to send him back, but the Sprial's corridors never twist things quite the way you want them to. Back in 1996, Elias has no idea why or how the Eye made such a powerful Avatar out of an 8 year old, especially when said 8 year old doesn't actually know he has any powers at all. Clearly such a child cannot be left outside the Institute's care. 

Notes: This fic is legitimately brilliant. The author manages to capture the big ADHD mood and the precociousness of baby Jon while managing to write a wonderful storyline. Time travel! Elderly lesbians! A Jonah who is wildly in over his head but was walloped over the head with paternal instinct! Baby Gerry! What more could you possibly ask for?

rooms full of people who do not love each other yet by seaer

Summary:

“Wanted to ask about a book.” The boy has his hand on the counter, and he leans into it, nonchalant. The library is air-conditioned, but by no means frigid, and Jon can’t help but feel sweaty just looking at the layers he’s wearing; what looks like old leather over an olive-green Magnus pullover over his school shirt. “Do you have A Journal of the Plague Year?”

Jon says, tetchily, “We’re about to close.”

“I know. Do you have A Journal of the Plague Year?”

Notes: I am so in love with this author’s writing style and the way they write the characters!! The jon and gerry friendship is PERFECT and the character interactions are all darling.

if you read these fics please send the authors some love, they definitely deserve it!! 

[chadillacboseman]

Blowing Off Steam Part IV

Pairing: Axe Woves x GN!Reader

A/N: This is just pure fluff, lol. Mentions of violence and injury.

Word Count: 1.6K

--

Waking up was more painful than it had been in a long time. Your head throbbed with every movement, and the area where the blaster struck you jolted like a lightning strike every time you touched it. You rose, slowly, from your bed and made your way to the bathroom to inspect the damage. A decent bruise was forming, and the cut looked angry, red, and inflamed. You sighed and washed it, gently, with warm water and a fresh towel before changing your clothes and exiting the bathroom.

Light was filtering in through the windows of your living quarters, letting you know that the sun had risen in its entirety. A cup of Spiran caf in your hands helped to ease the pain, if only a little. Your cupboards were fairly bare, but you managed to cobble together an acceptable breakfast to tide you over until you made a trip to the market.

The streets of Trask were busy, brimming with discussions of the Imperial presence from the night before. You kept a low profile as you collected your needs from the market, but the mark on your face attracted more attention than you’d like.

Plenty of prying eyes watched you as you shopped, but it wasn’t until you arrived at a booth stocked with fresh fish that someone spoke to you. It was the mon calamari from the night before, the one who was struck in the head before you. He was sporting a similar wound, and gave you a knowing look as you browsed.

When you presented your credits, he waved your hand away and passed you the fish, “On the house, bock avreet.” You mustered a smile and thanked him before departing.

You finished your shopping and headed home to restock your cupboards. The pain in your head was almost unbearable by the time you finished, and you searched your fresher cabinet for a painkiller to ease it.

You remembered your promise to Axe that you would meet him at the inn and sighed. You felt as though your head was going to explode, but you didn’t exactly shy away from the thought of a cold glass of something full of alcohol. You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of sleep on your eyelids, and decided to have a nap before the night began.

--

The cool night air hit you like a freighter and helped to lessen the pain in your head. The streets were bustling with people returning from the docks, many of them still chattering about the events of the previous night.

The smell of roasting seafood wafted on the salty air from the street market, and the gentle notes of a seven-string hallikset could be heard among the voices of the vendors and shoppers. It was good to know that the Imp presence hadn’t put a dent in the nightlife on Trask; if anything, it seemed that the populace was celebrating a little harder than usual.

The inn was surprisingly quiet compared to the rest of the city; only a few of the regular patrons were seated inside. The human bartender was nowhere to be found, but the mon calamari street vendor spotted you and raised his glass in a silent gesture.

“I wasn’t sure you’d show up,” Axe’s low voice vibrated near your ear and you jumped out of surprise.

You turned to find the Mandalorian in the doorway, a soft smile planted on his lips. Before you could stop yourself, you lunged forward and wrapped your arms around him. Axe stumbled back in surprise, but quickly returned the gesture, his chin resting on the top of your head. His armor was cold and hard against your chest, but it didn’t matter.

You pulled away and searched for the words to thank him, but they didn’t come to you. All you could do was return his smile. He led you to a small table in the far corner of the inn and signaled the bartender for a drink.

“I believe you might have dropped this the other night,” Axe produced your blaster from under the table and carefully slid it to you.

“Where did you find it?” you slipped it into your bag, taking comfort in its familiar weight.

“Trooper had it on him.” Axe said with a shrug, “Knew it wasn’t his, and I convinced him to tell me where he got it.”

You wondered for a moment what Axe’s idea of convincing was, but decided it was better not to ask. For several minutes the two of you sat in silence and enjoyed your drinks. You weren’t sure what to say- the man had just saved your life the previous night as if it was just another average event for him.

Evidently noticing your struggle for words, Axe spoke first, “How’s your head?”

You turned your face so he could see the mark and he grimaced at the sight. “Does it hurt much?”

You shrugged and finished your drink in one swallow, “Less now.”

Axe grinned and you felt your heart jump. He drained his glass as well and set it on the table before speaking again, “I’m sorry they hurt you because of me.”

His words surprised you, as did his suddenly solemn expression. “Axe I don’t blame you-” he waved his hand dismissively, “I know you don’t. But I do.” You stared at him, trying to read his expression- where was this going?

Axe reached a hand across the table and placed it on top of yours; you felt your face grow warm at his touch. He sighed and his eyes met yours, “Look, I’m not good at this-” he gestured vaguely with his free hand, “...stuff. I’m a Mandalorian. We’re warriors. I’ve been in this fight to retake our planet since I could walk.” He paused and you cocked your head, waiting for him to continue.

“That day when we walked through the city together,” his dark eyes flicked to yours, “You told me you weren’t afraid of me.” You nodded, remembering the fear on the faces of the others on the street- but you had felt safe in that moment with his arm wrapped around your shoulder.

“The night I asked you to stay with me, I didn’t think you would. In fact, I thought you’d stop coming to the bar entirely after the first time we met.”

You blushed at the memory and mustered a smile, "Why did you think that?"

Axe grinned, "Come on- I fucked you in an alleyway."

You squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment and sighed, "Yeah. That did happen."

As the two of you chuckled over the memory, there was a commotion at the door. The night's entertainment had arrived in the form of a four-piece Bith band with instruments in tow.

As the band set up, you ordered another drink and turned your attention back to Axe. "So, big, strong, Mandalorian-" he rolled his eyes, "Why all the sentimentality?"

You might have imagined it, but you could have sworn his face reddened at your words. "It's just...rare that I meet someone like you." His voice trailed off as he finished speaking.

You leaned forward to press him further, when you were interrupted by the band breaking into a slow, fanfar-laden number.

Axe's head snapped up and his face broke into a wide grin.

"What?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Dance with me." He rose from the table and held out a hand.

"You've lost your mind, Woves." You snorted.

"Come on," he was still smiling, his hand extended.

You sighed and rose to your feet, taking his hand as he led you to the empty dance floor. "I'm going to kill you." You whispered.

"I'm okay with that," Axe took your hand and wrapped his other around your waist.

You tried to hide your smile as Axe moved with you on the dance floor. You were amazed at how well he danced, despite the heavy, beskar armor.

You knew there were other patrons, but you didn't care- you laughed as he spun you, and clung to him when he pulled you close.

The whole inn seemed to disappear as you danced- lost in the background noise as Axe held you against his chest.

As the music wound down, Axe pulled you in close against him. You felt your heart flutter as his chin came to rest on the crown of your head.

For a moment, the two of you remained there on the dance floor, enraptured with each other, before Axe pulled away and led you back to the table.

You felt breathless as you sat down, still riding the high of the dance floor.

"You're lucky, Woves" you breathed as you sank into your chair.

"It was worth it," Axe grinned, as he moved to drain his drink. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, until Axe spoke up again, "Look, I know this has been weird." He paused as the bartender arrived to set another glass in front of him. "But give me a chance to start it all over."

You stared at him for a moment before replying, "Start it over?"

"Let me take you out," His eyes locked with yours as he spoke, "We'll be leaving Trask soon-"

Your heart sank at that. You had almost forgotten entirely about his words to you the first night you met.

"Let me take you somewhere that isn't a bar-" he gestured vaguely at the area around himself, "Will you let me do that?"

You stared at him, the pang of sadness building slowly in your gut. You knew how badly it would hurt when he finally left the planet, but maker did you want to spend every last moment with him.

Axe waited patiently, his eyes never leaving your face as you debated with yourself. You sighed and met his eyes with your own, and his face lit up when you smiled.

"Deal."

----

Tag list: @djxrxn @lestrange2703 @ortizshinkaroff​ @calamity-queen​

Translations:

Bock avreet is Mon Calamarian for "brave comrade"

[atmilliways]

And if you'd like another one, Charles & Melmord - 22(drunk) !

Okie, here it is. Warnings for, let’s see... Mature rating, Questionable employer/employee relationship, references to extensive scarring, and a Pity Handjob. 

At the first opportunity after he’d been weaned off the pain medication and was no longer under quite so much surveillance, Melmord tracked down some booze and got drunk. He hadn’t found much, but after an interminable stay in the hospital, living on IVs and hospital food, it didn’t take much either and hit him a lot harder and a lot faster than he’d expected. 

How Charles knew to find him in the communal employee kitchen—one of hundreds, probably, but the closest to his new, starkly furnished room—he would never know. By that point he was already swaying in his chair and didn’t think to ask. 

“Having a, ah, little nightcap there, hm?” the man said as he took a seat directly across the table. 

“Fuck you,” Melmord muttered into his bottle. 

Charles shrugged, blank expression unchanging. “Suit yourself. But if you end up putting yourself back in urgent care with alcohol poisoning, any time off is coming directly out of your salary.”

“You don’ give a shit.” 

“Not really, no. But you’re an investment of Dethklok Inc. now, and it’s my job to protect the band’s assets.” 

Melmord took another drink, trying to forget all the stupid choices he’d made to end up here . . . up to and including everything that had happened on that rooftop. Signing that contract didn’t even make the list; by the time it came to that, his course had already been irrevocably locked in. He hadn’t bothered to read the fine print. Hell, fuck reading—on the first attempt he’d signed the bit of bare hospital tray next to it. But it was a contract drawn up by Charles Offdensen, the man who had stabbed him and thrown him off a roof mid-blowjob, and that didn’t bode well. 

He found that he didn’t much care. The booze was definitely helping with that, so he downed another mouthful. As numb as he was becoming, it still burned pleasantly on the way down. 

“Why’re you here?” he mumbled, and heard that his voice was tougher than usual from the drink and whatever emotions his body was going through that he was too drunk to feel. The disconnect reminded him of being in the hospital. 

Instead of answering, Charles just shrugged. Melmord stared at his blank face and wondered if he even fucking knew. If anyone fucking knew anything. Of course they didn’t—life was one big hustle and the universe was in charge of the game, which was always fixed. 

“Why’re you here,” Melmord mumbled again, more to himself this time. The next swig from his bottle missed his mouth and slopped down his chin, leaving him staring stupidly down and wondering how his shirt had gotten so wet. He pawed at it, then rose swaying to his feet. “I gotta . . . go laundry. Go do laundry. Only have the one shirt.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been issued a week’s worth of work shirts, Fjordslorn.”

“They ain’t mine,” Melmord spat back. His hands latched onto the back of the chair he’d just vacated—probably that chair. He didn’t know anymore. He wasn’t sure where his room was anymore or how to get back to it. All the hallways looked the same; all of Mordhaus was a fucking murder labyrinth, the innards of a beast that had swallowed him whole and now had only to sit back and digest. 

He let do of the chair and took a first wobbly step, only to stumble and fall into a very solid chest. Blinking, trying to focus, a suit and bright red tie swam into his field of vision. 

“It’s this way,” Charles said in his usual, flat, carefully removed voice. Not trying to blunt the edges of anything. (Good, Melmord thought. Maybe by falling on those edges he could kill himself for good this time, and not have to come back to all this.) The man seemed to have a knack for guiding drunkards though, because they were in his room with minimal delays or arguments in no time. 

Melmord started haphazardly undoing his shirt buttons as soon as they stepped inside, not wanting to spend another second than necessary in his wet, wasted smelling only real shirt. Charles continued holding him upright while he did so, without comment. 

But halfway through unbuttoning, a thought hit Melmord like a bolt of lightning. He paused and asked, “You wanna fuck me?”

“Not particularly,” Charles replied dryly. 

“Why not? Y’already fucked me over, why not get your rocks off too. Inn’t that my job now?” Melmord gave up on the shirt buttons and started pawing to get his own pants open. 

When he succeeded, all he got was another raised eyebrow. “You’re freeballing?”

“What can I say, I live as I died,” Melmord declared, shoving his pants down towards his ankles. It was difficult; they kept wanting to bunch up around his knees, and pulling the top of the pants down over the bunched up material wasn’t helping. He tried to stand on one foot and tug everything off, but all it did was unbalance and pitch him against Offdensen’s chest again. 

“You’ve still got your shoes on,” Charles observed with a sigh. “Just get on the bed.”

Next thing he knew, Melmord was on his bed staring up at the ceiling while his mortal enemy and boss got his shoes and pants off. Right, he thought, I did offer. Might as well get ready. He palmed himself clumsily, trying to see if his cock was too drunk to wake up. 

“Stop that,” Charles told him firmly. “I’m not going to fuck you.”

“Why fuck not?” Melmord rasped, incredulous. “That’s the job, isn’t it? That’s. What I said I’d do. Isn’t that in my contract?”

Charles rolled his eyes and started working on undoing the buttons of Melmord’s shirt. “I’m not in the habit of fucking people who are about thirty seconds away from being unconscious.”

“How long did it take me to fall off the roof?” Melmord shot back. He heard the whine in his voice—fuck it, he didn’t care. Of all the things he wanted, Charles fucking Offdensen definitely wasn’t one of them, but everything had felt wrong ever since he’d woken up at the hospital and wasn’t allowed booze, weed, or to look under his bandages (which he’d done anyway and ended up screaming until they’d sedated him), and the room was spinning like a broken compass, and he needed something to get the needle to settle. Even if ‘something’ ended up being a smack across the face. 

From the tightening of Charles’ mouth and the deep lines around it, that was probably a definite possibility. And then—

Charles’ hand closed around his mostly limp cock, the other pushing the now opened shirt aside as his eyes fixed on the network of scar tissue that was Melmord’s upper body. “You have five minutes.”

Melmord grunted and closed his eyes, not wanting to look at himself. Not yet. Too new. “Gimme an even seven, man, I’m not a fucking teenager.”

“If it’s an even number you want, then six,” Charles retorted with a warning squeeze, making him groan. “And you don’t finish, before then, do it on your own time.”

It was the most clinically expert handjob Melmord had ever experienced, and he already knew that he was way too fucked up to get even a weak orgasm out of this. Charles was completely in control of the situation the entire time regardless of who was getting jacked off. Melmord felt like a kite on a string, and Charles was flying him . . . except not quite. 

No, he decided hazily, it felt like he was a puppet and Charles his master, and there wasn’t one string but many. Charles pulled at them all, even the ones that made his lungs draw in and expel air, even the ones that made his muscles twitch around the metal ‘bones’ in his right shoulder and ribcage and parts of his spine. The very fact that he was alive and the very fact that he shouldn’t be were both in the puppet master’s grasp.

He kept his eyes squeezed closed, but he could feel the scars. Felt Charles’ free hand running over them, tracing, exploring the topography like a dedicated map maker. Felt drunken tears dribbling out from between his own eyelids and down the sides of his face because fuck, fuck, he’d screwed up so badly and now this was going to be the rest of his life: just another cog in the machine, with the occasional pity handjob thrown his way the same as one might toss scraps to a dog. That Charles was showing him some amount of charity here was irrelevant; it was a calculated mercy. 

Even through all that, Melmord arched his back and laughed. Despite the fact that Charles had undoubtedly won, they were still sparring. Back and forth, push pull, verbal blow for verbal blow, and now this—it was funny. 

It was like Charles didn’t know how to stop fighting, and Melmord, to his credit, at least knew the same about himself. They would continue scrapping like this forever, and that—even as his consciousness did indeed begin to fade into a deep, dark blackout—almost gave continuing to live some sort of meaning.

[mousehole5000]

 this is it... the final post.... 226 through THE END!!!!!

this shit with mu qing and the river of lava is SOOOO dramatic im loving it

oh my god theyre on a FUCKING bridge of course they are okay let’s go boys

“You’re right. We’re alike. You think me odd, I think you to be rather weird too.” - so what im getting from this is that xie lian and mu qing are the only characters in this book with working gaydar okay yup got it this checks out

god... the fact that xie lian is ready to be like “look mu qing we can just forget about the past it doesnt matter we dont have to be friends i know you dont like me but im not gonna let you die over it” and then mu qing is like “.... god i really do admire you huh”

“You...certainly...are rather amazing. You’re...also...a better person...than me. Long story short, I...very much wanted...to become your f-f-friend.”  - going to think about this for the rest of all time im about to become utterly unintelligible im overcome with emotions

“And, at the end of the white silk band, Feng Xin was gripping Ruoye with one hand while the other was holding on to a steel-faced Mu Qing, and he shouted towards him.” - the fucking IMAGE of this im gonna cry this is everything i could have asked for im so happy also mu qing dangling there like “ welp. guess ill live“

“Feng Xin was almost burnt by that pillar of fire, and he shouted in outrage. “WHAT’S WITH THIS BAND OF DOG SHITS, ATTACKING PEOPLE WHILE THEY’RE DOWN, SO VILE! FUCK YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY!” Xie Lian responded, “IF THEIR ENTIRE FAMILIES ALL LOOK LIKE THAT, YOU SURE YOU WANT TO FUCK THEM??” - theyre so funny!!! and theyre best friends!!! theyre joking together now in the middle of all this i could cry theyre back!!!

“Using sticks as arrows, he held the bow with one hand and used his teeth to bite back the bowstring.” - no clue how practical this is but okay archer boy. hot

i actually have so many little quips between the three of them highlighted but we’d be here all night if i included them all. im literally so delighted by this omg worth the wait

“Each sabre strike slashed to the bone. It wasn’t like Xie Lian had never seen Hua Cheng use the sabre before in the past, but his style had always been easy and leisurely, nonchalant and casual. Rather than say he was handling a weapon, it was more like he was toying with a small knife. Yet those blade marks were filled with killing intent. It was easy to imagine just how skilled the one exchanging blows with him was, and how perilous this battle.” you have no idea how mad i was when i read this and thought we missed witnessing the fight between hc and jw omg

“Behind him, Feng Xin muttered, “Dear fucking god, may all the gods and buddhas grant their blessings, that better absolutely be Crimson Rain Sought Flower, otherwise he’s gonna go mad!” “Stop your rubbish,” Mu Qing berated. “We’re all the gods and buddhas ourselves and we can’t grant shit, just keep up with him! Look at the stumbling way he’s running, he’s gonna trip and fall to his bloody death before he even sees the man!” - okay i know i said no more quips but this is literally too funny i just wanted to read it again

“ However, for whatever reason, that vicious ghost, in its muddled state, took that large group of live mortals under its wing and fled for many days. In the end, they were still surrounded by millions of ghosts, trapped in a dead end, and it was going to be eaten along with those humans.” [...] “That vicious ghost almost made a move against those humans, but for some reason, in the end, it didn’t. It instead used one of its own eyes as the price to forge a blood weapon. That vicious ghost was already forcibly hanging on with its last breath; after digging out its eye it should’ve broken apart completely. Yet somehow something had shocked it, and it instead woke to its senses completely. “ - THIS IS AMAZING ARE YOU KIDDING ME???? IS THIS ALL WE GET ABOUT HIS GHOSTLY LORE?????? HUA CHENGGGGGGGG

“What a terrible offence, his old habit had come out, and he quickly apologized. “I’m sorry! You don’t have to listen to me!” Hua Cheng, however, only smiled happily. “Everything gege tells me is the best advice, so why wouldn’t I listen?” - this isnt the fucking time afjdkfjsdkl they really never stop

“So you can hold the illusion of a perfect Crown Prince of Wuyong to face and dismiss the Jun Wu now. Isn’t that your objective? Did you think I don’t know what you’re thinking?” “THAT’S NOT IT!” Guoshi cried. “Stop getting tied up in right and wrong, victories and defeat, I’VE NEVER THOUGHT THAT WAY BEFORE!” - jun wu only being able to see xie lian as his successor and believing that thats all anyone else sees too... okay

honestly this whole final showdown was a blast i cant put everything in but it was so much fun to read. the DRAMA the LAVA the SHOUTING t

“Hua Cheng had poured too much spiritual power into him. There really was too much, so much that it was completely outside the amount the cursed shackle could withstand.” - okay.... okay... the love you give will set you free... okay....

“With Jun Wu in his grip, he carried both their bodies and forcefully slammed into the incomparably-solid rock wall! He used all of his power in this smash, and in the rumbling and crashing of rocks, he also heard the sound of something breaking.” [...] “A moment later, Jun Wu suddenly asked, “That move. What is it called?” “...” Xie Lian raised his sleeve and wiped away the blood on the side of his face. “Shattering boulders on the chest.” YES!!!!! YES!!!!! xie lian actually lived that life!!!!!! i loved this detail so much

“After a moment of silence, Xie Lian took off the bamboo hat carried on his back, took it in his hand, and covered it over Jun Wu’s face.” - xie lian... good... another detail i love. a hat that protects from the rain, given in a moment of need, even to someone who has caused you hardship... we do not forget the kindness granted to us

“There was gratefulness, there was shame, there was heartache, there was wild joy, but above all else, there was incurable love.” - :pleading: i wish it was just that easy tbh. “i have to tell you about the worst parts of myself” “ive already seen them and i dont care i still love you“ truly the dream

“ It’s been so long since anyone listened to me talk, won’t you stay? Don’t...actually do this. I won’t be able to take it. Twice, it’s been twice already! I really don’t want there to be a third time!!!” - the bit about just wanting someone to listen to him talk... xie lian... :(

emily corpse bride moment.... i knew it had to happen.... butterflies.... death and rebirth.... inevitable

xianle trio bickering about ruoye..... mu qing complaining but not letting anyone else fix it... im so happy

“The Rain Master sat down on the spot, looking like she was going to perform a passing service for her. After all, Xuan Ji was the only one left of the Kingdom of Yushi besides herself.”  - xuan ji you sure the hell were... a character. this little moment tho..... yushi huang... many thoughts

“ Who hasn’t made promises, or swore to the mountains and the seas when they were young? Talking of affection, of love, of forevers. But, the longer I hang around in the world, the more I understand, something like ‘forever’ is impossible. It’s never going to be possible. Having it once was already good enough. No one can truly achieve it. I don’t believe in it anymore.” - jian lan im happy for you bummer it didnt work out with feng xin but yeah that was looooong ago. also this quote me same mood kin but its chill. having it once was already good enough

although yeah tbh if theres anyone who can have a forever like that... it would be a ghost and a god

fasdfjadklfj GOD... pour one out for ling wen.. but is that not the truth of this world? the one can be pardoned for being good at paperwork that no one else wants to do? isnt that the plot of the shawshank redemption?

okay but the fact that all xie lian’s friends come to visit him while he waits for hua cheng is making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.... fengqing coming together to try to get him out of the house but get scared off by his cooking... amazing

“Last time, they spent eight hundred years running towards each other. This time, it only took an instant to fall into each other’s embrace.” - im completely unaffected by this. im not lying i swear (i am lying im very emotionally affected)

okay i love this final wrap up chapter party its so fun. mu qing moving on from the broom thing!!! good for him!! the beggars get their reward!!! the fun ghost city chefs!! SQX!!!! and he xuan is?? here too??? he’s hungry??? fjadlkfjsdl

“The grounds that Feng Xin and Mu Qing had just swept were once again filthy from that giant crowd of muddy feet. Mu Qing gripped his broom, looking like he felt someone had infected him with fleas, and his eyes were wide.” - me when my dad comes into the kitchen when ive just finished washing dishes i get it king

the little folklore bit... fun!!! oh my god its over..... :(

that was really fun i had a blast reading it and on the whole really liked it i WISH soo badly that hua cheng had gotten more outside of being cunty and devoted even tho those are both important i just wish there was more about like how he got by during those 800 years and like did he ever have doubts? what shaped his worldview was it all xie lian or was it his experience as a mortal as well? why is he so mean to e’ming? theres bits and pieces here and there and i know it was already SO long but that really would have been great if there was more about hc cuz tbh by the end, at least for me, the hualian relationship didnt actually feel as fleshed out as the xianle trio relationship like i still liked hualian’s dynamic and it was really sweet how much they clearly really liked each other and  everything but i kind of wish some of the other subplots had been dropped or diminished in favor of more hc development i think that would have been cool

but anyway thats some of my thoughts and i really did enjoy the hell out of book 5 that was a riot and uhhh thanks to everyone who read these or commented *lends you spiritual energy through a high five*

[1-2-4sudoku]

Snapped Restraints: Chapter Four: The Last Straw

AU: This is a long chapter, folks. If you’ve been waiting for the ‘snapped’ part of Snapped Restraints, this is where your wish comes true.

“What happened to your room?” Alfred asked me suspiciously.

“Um, I had an emotional breakdown.”

“I’m well aware of that, but I was told it happened at school,” he replied with one eyebrow raised.

I shifted my weight from one leg to the other and twined my brown hair around my finger anxiously I wasn’t stupid. I knew that Alfred knew that I was lying.

“You’re sure, Miss Juliette. that it was you who destroyed every one of your precious origami, which you spent hours on, which I’ve heard you refer to as your ‘pride and joy’?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and said:“Yes, Alfred. I just lost my temper, is all.”

I felt bad for lying to someone who had been good to me. He had saved me from training sessions, defended me, made me my after school snacks, and so much more. I knew he wanted to help me, and I lied to him.

He couldn’t prove I was lying, though he knew I was. There weren’t any cameras set up in my room, no honest eye witness report. If he tried to dig deeper with no solid evidence, he could fail and Bruce would be angry and it would be worse for me.

On Friday, Dick picked up Damian to spend the weekend with him in Bludhaven. When Dick brought him back, he talked to Bruce. That freaked me out. I thought that Damian told our brother about Bruce hitting us. I felt it was my fault for encouraging him to stand up for himself.

I came into his room without knocking, and discovered that Tim and Cassandra were already there. Damian saw me come in and immeaditely blurted out: “I didn’t tell Grayson what you think I did. I only said anything at all because he asked me why I was sad!”

“Fill me in,” I demanded.

“I only told him about what happened at school and Father being angry with us, not that he hit us, and now Grayson is angry with Father.” Damian looked scared and pale and very small. He was on his bed with his arms around Titus, who he was holding onto like a lifeline.

“Okay. Okay.” I began pacing rapidly with my fingers woven tightly in my hair as I desperately wondered: What now? What the fuck do we do now?

Cass was sitting next to Damian, looking just as lost as he did. Tim sat in a desk chair with his elbows on his knees and his hands supporting his gaunt face.

After a few long moments, Damian inquired in an appropriately childlike voice: “Are you angry with me?”

Tim responded the fastest and the most harshly. “Um, YES!”

“Zip it!” I told him. “I need to think.”

“That’s funny,” Tim stood up. seeing his face, I noticed that he seemed to have worry lines despite his age. He started towards Damian. He wasn’t replying to me. He had concentrated his anger on Damian. “Because you know what I’m thinking? I think-”

“Quiet!” Cass snapped.

“Thank you!” I said empathetically. “Don’t try to redirect your anger at anyone else, Tim. It’s Bruce who hurt us, Bruce we should be angry with.”

“Hero. Helped me.” Cassandra interjected quickly.

“He hurt you, too, Cass,” Tim replied. “After all you’ve been through, of course you’d like the world to be black and white and Bruce a hero. But it isn’t and he’s not.”

“Tim is right,” I agreed. 

Tim inhaled deeply. “When he found out that you were suicidal, Bruce should have tried to find you therapy. Instead, he locked you in a sinking ship to make you want to live.”

“Got out. Lived.” Insisted Cassandra fervently.

“What if you didn’t?” Tim demanded of her. “What if you had wanted to die so badly that you lay on the floor and let yourself drown?”

“You were suicidal?” Damian asked. “Why?”

Cass nodded. After a period of silence she admitted: “Killed before. Hated myself.”

Cass’s feelings were a welcome distraction from my own panic and turmoil. I instantaneously jumped on the new topic.

“You stayed with Barbara for a long time, right?” I asked. “Did she try to help you with those feelings?”

She nodded.

“Tell me about that.”

This time Cass waited a long time to talk and said a lot when she did. “Barbara was kind to me. Tried to teach me words. Helped me... socialize. 

“She told me everyday that I was good. Said I wasn’t my father. Wanted to know my feelings. If I said I was bad, Barbara told me all the good I did.” 

After that speech, Cassandra brought her knees up to her chin and and wrapped her arms around them. She closed her almond eyes, clearly exhausted from saying so much, and put her head down. She told me without words that she was done speaking.

“Cass,” Tim concluded gently. “Barbara loves you like a daughter. Bruce appreciates you as a weapon.”

“Amen,” I verified with passion. “Bruce doesn’t love us. The sooner we come to terms with that, the better.”

Damian muttered something from his bed.

“What’d you say?” Tim inquired tiredly.

A short pause. A child’s voice muffled by his sadness. “I’m difficult to love.”

“You only think that because Bruce never tried to love you!” I cried. “I know! Tim filled me in on everything about this family when I got here. Bruce didn’t try to know you, didn’t try to be patient with you, didn’t try to help you, didn’t try to bond with you. If that shitbag can’t love you, he’s got no one to blame but himself.”

Damian started crying. The tears streaking his face and his runny nose were good reminders as to how young the little soldier was. 

Without a word, Cassandra and I wrapped our arms around him. After a few moments, Tim did the same with an accepting mutter of, “Oh, what the Hell.”

Silently, we all agreed that we were going to stick together through whatever happened.

As for what all Dick said to Bruce, I’m not sure what exactly it was, but I know it made him angry and I know it affected Alfred’s view of him.

After that day, he was never not home when Bruce was. And sometimes, when the Batman looked at me, I could see it in his eyes that he was full of burning hatred of me. I knew he wanted to hit me. The feeling was mutual.

Three weeks later, Alfred decided that is was safe to leave all us kids alone with Bruce while he went to the library. Big mistake.

That fateful Tuesday afternoon,  I  was working on a puzzle at my desk. As I did, Nadia chased a small rubber band ball across the floor.

Foolishly, stupidly, absolutely moronically, I had left my bedroom door wide open. I felt Bruce come in before I turned and saw him, because kids like me have a sixth sense for danger.

I stood up and we looked at each other silently before that bastard spoke. He watched Nadia studiously. She was stock still with quivering whiskers; a deer in the headlights. “I know you love that rat.”

A lot of things happened in the ten to fifteen seconds following his words. They didn’t blur together to me; instead they were all very clear in my mind.

I knew exactly what he was thinking. I thought: Hell no, you motherfucker.

Adrenaline flooded my system immeadietly. I started moving, and moving fast.

“It would be a sha-” Gargoyle Face began, but I interrupted him, yelling: “OVER MY DEAD BODY!!!”

As I uttered those words, I pinned my beloved friend to my chest with my arms and arched my back over her with my legs bent beneath me.

Gargoyle came at me screaming bloody murder at the top of his lungs, but I didn’t try to run.

He kicked me hard in the side. He grabbed the back of my shirt and pulled me so my back was to the floor. I must’ve learned something after all from all the training, because I manged to kick him fairly hard in the balls.

After that was when everything started to blur together. I think he threw me across the room to try to shock me into loosening my hold. I think he tried to stomp on my hands to break them. I think it’s a miracle that he couldn’t, a miracle that I somehow kept Nadia safe.

I know that I was crying hard and swearing and Nadia was screaming and shitting herself and the demonic excuse for a hero was yelling and beating me and I knew better than to try to fight him and out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw Cassandra and then suddenly it stopped.

She knocked out Bruce with a nerve paralyzing move on, I found out later. She finally stopped standing by and helped me.

Tim and Damian came in moments later.

Tim was the first to speak. “Oh, Jesus Christ!”

Cass said: “Bruce hurt Juliette. I hurt Bruce.” She said this in a very quiet and flat voice, like she was in shock. Later I decided that she probably was.

“Damian, try to take Nadia from her, and you take care of her,” Tim ordered. He spoke in a calm, professional manner. “Cass, you help me move Bruce to his bed.”

After a long time, Damian somehow managed to pry Nadia from my grasp and hold her for me so that I could take a hot bath.

Most of one wall in my bathroom was covered in mirror. When I stood up and looked at my body, the bruising was so bad that the freckles that covered every inch of my skin were no longer visible in some places.

Damian began cleaning my room while Tim looked for pain medication and cold packs. 

“I’d give you morphine if I could, but that means an IV, which there’s no way Alfred wouldn’t notice,” he said miserably. Then Tim helped Damian clean up.

My brothers and sister put me to bed and arranged ice packs around me. They planned to help me fake being sick so that I could stay in bed and recover.

I lay there staring daggers at the ceiling, nowhere near sleep. My wounds pulsed to the beat of my heart, as rage simmered and boiled inside of it.

One thought played on repeat in my head. That’s it. You don’t fuck with me or the people I love, because there’e Hell to pay if you do. Oh, that bastard’s gonna pay.

[crue-sixx]

Forget Me Not

Title: Forget Me Not

Author: tiddly-winx

Fandom: The Dirt (Motley Crue Movie)

Note: Based in the HC "Remember Me" where the reader loses her memory but knows who the band is.

Summary: The reader is on stage with the band she dances/sings with when someone throws something at her and knocks her out cold.  She wakes up in the hospital and is scared shitless.  She had to run.

Warning: Swearing, smut mention, memory loss

It was a typical Friday night for you now-you'd been hired by the band Motley Crue as a back up singer/dancer while on the Girls Girls Girls tour.  You'd had some Fireball Cinnamon Whiskey in you but you weren't even buzzed when it was time to go on stage.  You kissed your boyfriend Mick a quick peck on the lips and wished him good luck, and he did the same for you.  You took your place next to Vince and you did your thing, all of you playing off each other in perfect sync. 

In the middle of Girls, Girls, Girls, you were dancing provocatively next to Mick-something you knew for a fact always got him going, him giving you a sultry grin that said he'd take care of you later.  As you turned from him, you felt something hit your head very hard.  

"Fuck!" Mick caught you, dropping his guitar.  The cut was tiny but it was bleeding very badly.  Vince ran over, taking off  his shirt to put pressure on the wound while Tommy and Nikki pulled the perpetrator on stage and proceeded to kick his ass. a few of the other fans joining in.  Security had called for an ambulance and you were taken promptly to the nearest hospital.

They had to postpone the rest of the tour until you got better, but they didn't know how long that would take.  Mick never left your side, him stroking the top of your hand with his thumb.  He'd talk to you like you were fine.  You heard everything he and other people said to you "Y/N...baby...please wake up..." you heard the desperation in his voice and you let silent tears fall.

It had been a week since you had been attacked, and you were showing signs of improvement-you were breathing on your own from the get go, and your body responded to outside stimuli.  But as you opened your eyes, everything came into focus.  You sat up, looking around for something familiar.  You were alone and scared, you had no memory of who you were and what you were doing here, but you saw a set of clothes that looked like they could fit a woman.  You ripped out the IV needles in your arm and quickly put the clothes on.

You peeked out of the room to see if there was anyone coming or looking and saw nothing.  You quietly left the room in a medium pace that wouldn't draw attention to yourself.  You exchanges plesantries to passerby who said 'hello' and soon you were out of the hospital and walking in the sidewalk.  The city was unfamiliar but you were starving.  You walked into a small cafe and ordered a coffee and bagel.  Of course you had no way of paying, so when you were done you made like a banana and split.

Back at the hospital, Mick had just come back from a food run to find an empty bed, hospital gown discarded on the chair, the clothes he had bought from the hotel for you gone and spots of blood on the sheets and floor.  Before he let real panic set in, he stopped one of the nurses and asked "Did you take Y/N L/N for some tests?"

The nurse said "The doctor hasn't ordered any tests for her..." she looked into the empty room and rushed to the phone to call for a missing patient.

"What the fuck?!" Mick growled "isn't it your job to make sure all the patients are accounted for?!"

Just then Tommy, Nikki and Vince came in with fresh flowers to see the commotion and confusion "Mick, what's going on?" Tommy asked.

"These asshats lost Y/N!" he was shaking in worry and rage.

"What?!" Nikki yelled "How is that even possible?!"

The hospital director came down and looked at the security camera footage from the hallways.  It had showed you in the clothes Mick had bought you, just walking through the hallway and then out of the hospital unhindered.  The director was beyond livid and he turned to the staff on duty "You're all fired.  Collect your property and get out" the stunned staff sat in silence, then gathered their belongings and left.

"How the fuck are we gonna find her?!" Vince hissed.

"We have to call the news and put out a be on the look out order.  She doesn't have any money but she needs to eat right?"

"That's true" Mick said, calming down a little.  "We can put the number to our hotel room on the screen and ask if anyone had seen her please call us..."

During the press conference, he held up your picture, said your name and where you had escaped from.  "She is not at all dangerous" he stated "If you see her, please guide her gently to a police station and call this number.  You can reach me directly there.  Also she may have some brain damage and/or memory loss.  Please be as patient as you can with her..."

The waiter who served you at the cafe recognized you right away, as you had dined and dashed on him.  At first he was mad as hell but after hearing what was wrong with you he wanted to help.  He called the number and spoke with the man from the news.  You had stopped at the cafe about 1pm, were finished in about half an hour and left without paying.  Soon more calls came in and they had established a timeline of your whereabouts.

The talk with your parents was awkward, your father yelling at him for leaving you alone in an unfamiliar place.  Your mother straight up refused to talk to Mick, he was already kicking himself for not ordering from the hospital kitchen instead of going to the cafeteria.  "I know I fucked up Mr. L/N, but I need to know if there's anyplace from her past that Y/N would be drawn to?"

Your father thought for a moment and gruffly said "Los Vegas.  Her grandparents lived there before they died.  She loves it there, just outside the Los Vegas strip there's a small motel we always stayed at when we went to visit" the sounds of papers shuffling "here's the number..."

By now, your disappearance had made national news, but you never stuck around one place long enough to listen to anything.  You had to get to Vegas, to the one place you remembered was safe.  You were right outside the off the road motel and you went into the office to see if you could con yourself a room for a few days and then skedaddle before management even knew you were gone.  When you waked in, the clerk at the counter was watching a portable tv.  He looked up at you, did a double take and said "How may I help you?"

"I need a room for a few days" you said "I can't pay right now but at the end of my stay I can!  I'm hoping to win big on the strip!"

Normally the clerk would have laughed you out of the office and told you to go fuck yourself, but you were the missing woman on the news, and the most recent report said that you might be heading this way and he had a feeling that he needed to take down the number he saw on the news just in case.  He dialed it and said "Is this Mick Mars?"

"Yeah who are you?" the tired voice scratched out.

"My name is Mike Benson, I'm a clerk at the Palm Tree Motel in Vegas right outside the strip.  Your lady friend's here.  I just gave her a room for a few days.  How fast can you get here?"

"I can be there in a few hours" the voice perked up, him hanging up the phone and booking the next flight to Vegas.  From what people had told him, you'd seemed confused and paranoid when they interacted with you so he told the band what was going on and said he needed to go alone, in case you got overwhelmed and ran away again.  They understood and wished him luck, telling him to take all the time he needed.

You were just so tired from walking and hitch hiking the past few days.  You would learn later that you waked or hitch hiked all the way from Los Angeles to Los Vegas.  How you'd managed to do that you didn't know but you were safe here, so you laid down to take a well needed nap.

It was just after sunset when Mick came into the lobby of the Palm Tree Motel, the clerk being the same one he spoke to "Mike Benson?"

"That's me" the clerk answered "She's in room 231" he passed a key to him.  "Go get er, man".

"I can pay for the room later" Mick offered.

"Don't worry about it" Mike smiled at him "it's on the house."

Mick was grateful that all the places you had dined and dashed from wouldn't accept any payment from your meals, they all understood what you did wasn't your fault and let it slide.  You hadn't ordered anything fancy-just some soup and water.  They just wanted you back safe with Mick.  

Outside room 231, he took a deep breath and turned the key.  You were sleeping peacefully in bed, he had begun blubbering like a child when he saw you.  You didn't appear to have any other injuries other than the healing bruise to your head, the cut having scabbed over.  With a shaking hand, he reached out and stroked your hair to make sure you were real.  You stirred under his touch and opened your eyes "Mick?  Why're you crying?"

"You remember me?" he said through sobs.

"Of course, baby" you said "Why wouldn't I?"

He was silent a few minutes "What's the last thing you remember?"

"What's with all these questions?" you asked confused "You act like I was missing for a while!"

"Y/N, you WERE" he turned on the TV to the news where you saw your picture plastered all over the place, saying you were found.  

You looked at him in frightened confusion "What the Hell is going on?!  Did I die and wake up in the Twilight Zone?!"

He held you close to him, you were shaking with fear "I'm right here baby..." he rubbed your back, taking in the familiar scent of vanilla and honeysuckle.  He was so relieved to have you in his arms again. "What's the last thing you remember?"

The memories were jumbled in your head, you taking a moment to put them in the right order.  "We were in stage in L.A. and I was teasing you when a glass bottle flew at me..."

"That's all true, babe" he held your hand and went on "You were in a coma for a week before you just up and walked out of the hospital" you were even more confused than ever.

"Why would I just walk out?  That's not like me at all!" you laughed a little, but you knew it wasn't funny.

"The doctor said you most likely went into a fugue state.  Like you forgot who you were.  Because you didn't see anything familiar when you woke up" he looked at the floor, ashamed of himself when you lifted up his face.

"Not your fault babe" you leaned backward with him on top of you "The hospital staff should have been watching me..." you started kissing him, you feeling like you missed his touch for a whole year.  He reciprocated at first,but stopped.  "What is it babe?"

"I can't do this..." he got off you.

"What?  You don't want to do it with me?" you asked, thinking he didn't want you anymore.

"Yes" he admitted "I need to be close to you, but I want to make sure you're okay first.  I want to have the doctor at the hospital who looked at you when you were admitted to see if there's any lasting brain damage..."

You smiled weakly and said "Okay Bob" he grinned at that, you only calling him by his actual name on rare occasions.  You were one of very few people who knew his name.  You two cuddled, each taking in the other's scent and bringing back even more memories.  

Back in L.A. each of the band hugged you for a long time, then your parents.  You were surprised to see news people there too, but you'd grown used to paparazzi swarming you since you and Mick started dating two years ago.  The doctor looked at the scans of your brain and saw no lasting damage.  You were cleared to go back to your normal life, granted that you'd have to be with someone at all times.

When you got home, there was a nice dinner with wine waiting for you and Mick.  He was just as surprised at you were, seeing a small note on the table in between two candles "Just heard the good news!  Have fun! Nikki, Tommy and Vince" you laughed softly at that, the two of you enjoying each other's company.  After an hour of the slowest, sweetest love making you two had ever shared, you cuddled close to his chest.

"Hey, Y/N?" he asked, the sweat on his skin leaving the surface moist.

You looked up at him "Yeah babe?"

"I love you" he leaned down and kissed you deeply "I'm sorry you had to wake up scared..."

You rolled your eyes at him "I told you many times, it wasn't your fault, Mick!  Stop blaming yourself!"

"I know, but if you had been killed while you were confused I would have lost my damn mind..." he bought your hand up to eye level and for the first time you saw a beautiful blue sapphire ring on a very important finger.

"Mick when did you-?" you asked, the thing taking your breath away.

"When we were making love just now" he slyly smiled at you.  "I was gonna ask you that night when we got back to the hotel but then the shit hit the fan" he locked eyes with you "So you want to marry me?"

"Yes, Bob Deal I'll marry you" he leaned in to kiss you again, this time with more hunger.  You raised your eyebrow at him and asked "You sure you want to go another round?  Your back will be aching tomorrow!" you teased him.

"Hell yeah, Y/N" he pulled you onto his lap "we gotta make up for lost time!"  you laughed, accepting both his proposals and giving him your life and in return he gave you his.

[katieelizabeth]

What would you call your body type? Definitely curvy

Are you a morning person? Yes and no. I’m taking sleep meds for nausea so right now waking up is kinda hard. 

Have you ever been to Target? Loveeeeee Target

Do you like iced tea? Iced tea is always my jam

When is the next time you’ll be at work? Hmm it’s kinda up in the air right now. I’m itching to get back tho.

Do you have a savings account? Yes. one for myself, one with my boyfriend

Has anyone ever hacked your accounts before? Only once.

What color bedsheets are currently on your bed? Currently grey

Have you ever been to Disney World? If so, how many times have you been? Yes, I wanna say total like 6 times.

Does grammar and capitalization mean anything to you? It absolutely does.

Are you good at wrapping gifts for others? My boyfriend thinks I'm a terrible wrapper hahah

Do you have a dirty clothes hamper in your room? Yes.

What would you say is your favorite television show? If I had to narrow it down, probably Skins. 

Do you enjoy big holiday dinners? Yes and no. I don’t care for holiday dinners with my family but I love holiday dinners with my boyfriends family. 

Is there any piece of jewelry you’re constantly wearing? I’m not married or engaged but I do wear a small silver band on my ring finger.

What is one thing you desire as of now? To be able to just go and sit down in a restaurant. This virus has everyone living in fear and I'm tired of it and want to live normally and enjoy my pregnancy

What kind of phone do you have? An iPhone XR.

If you could move anywhere, where would you choose? Canada or London

Do you blog a lot, if at all? No not really. I used to when Xanga was big.

Is your present hair color, natural? Nope.

What makes you the most angry when it comes to people? My boyfriend thinks that anytime my opinion is different than his, then I'm trying to argue with him. It’s so fucking frustrating. 

Describe your current outfit? Anaheim Ducks shirt and matching pj pants hahah

What was the last thing you ordered online? Some toothbrushes lol

Have you ever felt as though you were drifting apart from a best friend? Ive had two best friends in my life completely shut me out before. It sucks.

What color are your eyes? Poop brown

Have you ever worn color contacts? I have but I could never wear them because of the astigmatisms in both my eyes. Lasik was the best decision of my life

What’s the best thing about a hug? Right now I miss everything about hugs

Biggest fear? Losing my loved ones, death, never getting better/getting worse, never doing anything with my life....

If you have a significant other, how long have you been together? Just celebrated three years

Do you know any genuinely friendly people? Yes.

Do you buy your friends gifts? I try to when I can 

What was the last thing you plugged in? My phone to the charger.

How old are you? 29

What color headphones do you own? They’re black.

Have you ever shopped on Urban Outfitters? No, just a reminder than I'm fat

Where do you buy the majority of your clothing? Amazon, Goodwill

Would you rather wear necklaces or earrings? Necklaces

Do you consider yourself fortunate? Very

Do you enjoy watching fights? Nooo.

Have you ever been in a physical fight? No way

Do you tend to talk badly about people? I try not to but everyone is guilty of that

Where are your parents as of now? Watching tv in the tv room

Does your computer cooperate most of the time? I literally just bought it so yes haha

Does your family have any cheesy traditions? Kind of

When did you last go to a book store? Gosh it’s been a while!

What’s the closest book store where you live? Barnes & Noble.  

How much money do you have on you right now? On hand, $20.

Favorite personal feature? my hair and my lips

Are you wearing make up at the moment? Nope.

Favorite television channel? Bravo, E!, ID, HBO

Describe any piercings or tattoos you might have? 6 tattoos no piercings

Have you ever been fired from a job? INope

Are you currently losing a best friend? No.

Describe the worst day of your life: I’m good.

Do you play any video games? Not at the moment

Would you say you hate anyone? I feel hatred towards racists, homophobics, ect.

Do you think freckles are cute? Very cute!

Last time you went to the mall? Gosh its been a really long time

Name something that’s your favorite color: anything teal

Have you been to Red Lobster before? Yesssss. I want seafood

Do you judge by appearances? Anyone who tells you they don't to some degree is a fucking liar.

Do you follow a certain religion? No thank you

Who is your role model, if you had to choose? Im not really sure

Would you rather have nice hair or lips? Hair.

What are you most self conscious about? Pretty much my whole body

Do you have any family members who live out of town? Yeah.

Do you consider yourself short? Nope, I'm average height for a girl

What room are you in? Mine.

Hoodies or jackets? Hoodies.

Are you outside a lot? No not really. The sun doesn’t like my skin haha

Have you ever been dumped via text message? Nope

Do you like dreamcatchers? Not really

What is your favorite letter of the alphabet? I don’t have one.

Do you hate repetitive people and things? Depends on the situation

Do you think autocorrect is a blessing or curse? BOTH

Do you believe in any particular curses? No.

Ever play a Ouija board? Nope, my mom wouldn't let me growing up

What movie scares you the most? The Exorcist. I can watch the movie now no problem but it FUCKED up my childhood.

What was your bedtime as a child? 9. I remember watching Happy Days from 8-9

Reason why your favorite holiday is your favorite: Who doesn't love Christmastime?

Do you work with any close friends? I work with my baby daddy

Do you consider yourself spoiled? I would say in some way I'm probably spoiled

Do you listen to any country music? yes

Favorite high school teacher: I don’t specifically remember any high school teachers I liked. Probably my French teacher. He was super cool!

Do you ever get drunk? Of course. Can’t drink yet tho until after baby

Have you ever had highlights before? Nope

Favorite number: 7,10

Do you still sleep with any stuffed animals? Not anymore. I used to for a a long time 

 What is your biggest regret in life? Eh I've got a few

Would you say you think you have a mental disorder of some kind? Depression/anxiety. Ive taken meds for it 

Are you normally an independent person? I like to think myself as independent but my boyfriend sure takes care of me. I dunno what id do without him

Do you have any paintings? a few

What is one clothing fad you wish never existed? anything from the early 2000s haha

Do you like to be organized? Do I like it? Yes. Am I organized? NO

Have you ever failed a class before? oh yes

Ever been judged because of your weight? All the time. Not so much as an adult tho

What is your favorite breakfast cereal? The sugary bad ones, ha.

Ever had a wish come true? Nope

Do you regret meeting any of your exes? No way

Do you own any coloring books? Yes haha those adult ones

What’s the meanest thing someone’s called you? I can’t think of anything specific. Probably fat

Have you ever bullied someone? I likely have, unfortunately :(

Do you ever watch Lifetime? Only for the reality shows

Ever tried to intentionally sabotage someone’s grade? God no

Do you own any brown clothing? Hmmm I don’t think so

What color are your walls painted? White.

Last thing you drank: I’m drinking decaf coffee 

Have you ever seen a tornado in person? Noooo.

Do you have an inground pool at your house? Nope

What is the first digit of your phone number?  9

What’s the prettiest town you’ve been to? Anywhere in England

Do you tend to sleep a lot? yes and no. I’m taking sleeping meds but it’s hard for me to fall asleep

Silver or gold jewelry? Silver

Do you sometimes celebrate holidays early? Not usually. My boyfriends family Is out of state tho

Have you ever been in love? Yes.

What’s the best gift you’ve ever received? My unborn child

When was the last time you showered? Last night

Would you consider yourself attractive? Sometimes yes

Has anyone made you mad today? Nope

Favorite smell: Vanilla

Are you afraid of insects? I wouldn't say afraid

Do you have any children? I’ve got one cookin in the oven haha

If so, what are their names? I’ll tell you when I know the gender

Would ever consider having children in the future? MORE children? Lets see how traumatized this first one is haha

Have you ever lived on a farm? No.

Ever played any sports? Oh yes, played soccer till I was 18 

Do both of your parents have jobs? They're both retired from jobs they were at for 40+ years

Where is the best place you’ve been on vacation to? Its a tie between South Africa, London and Colorado

Are you afraid people won’t accept you? Not anymore. Being an adult means getting over that haha

Are you, for the most part, an honest person? I try to be

Did you make prank phone calls as a child? oh yes!

Do you like to make donations? Yeah.

What is your current ringtone? Just the standard apple ringtone

Meet anyone from your past lately? No.

Have you ever called a teen suicide line? No.

Have you ever caught something on fire? Not that I can think of

Ever been obsessed with a show? Ive been obsessed with many shows

What type of perfume or cologne do you use? English Laundry Signature

What’s the last book you read? The book that Ted Bundys girlfriend wrote

Dream career: Zooologist

Have you ever climbed a mountain before? Yes, in Colorado

At what age do you plan to get married? Not sure, we aren't in a rush to marry

Ever been in a car accident? Yes, three

[megalony]

The affair- Part 2

The next part to my new Roger Taylor imagine, thank you to everyone for the lovely feedback I’m so glad you all enjoyed the first part.

Permanent taglist: @marshmallowmae @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @luvborhap @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly

Series taglist: @killerqueenbucky @bohemiansweede @borhapqueen92

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

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

Tears of acid poured down Roger's features as he latched one hand onto his hair, the other hand clenching and tightening into a fist that made his knuckles almost break through the skin and pop out of place. His left arm being strapped in a sling due to the bullet wound that had ripped through the muscles of his shoulder and reached the bone. Lucky enough not to shatter the bone upon impact, leaving it rather intact which was more than could be said for (Y/n).

The drummer had passed out from blood loss but the moment he awoke in the hospital he was not best pleased to find the band standing beside him as opposed to having (Y/n) there to tell him it was all some sort of bad dream. He regained consciousness to find himself not backstage at the concert but in a hospital bed with a bruised and bandaged shoulder, the bullet now removed from his person. Roger awoke to find that (Y/n) was in surgery because he couldn't protect her. No one had come forward to tell him this was all in his head and he was suffering some kind of nightmare or that his subconscious was playing a hateful trick on him.

Freddie and Brian had to try and pin their friend to the bed he laid in to stop him from ripping out the IV drip in his hand and the monitors clipped to his finger and stuck to his chest. As soon as Roger had been informed that (Y/n) was in surgery he had tried to get out of bed despite the lack of energy his body felt. He wanted to wait as close to her as he could, he wanted to be standing or sitting outside of the operating room so he could be informed of her situation the moment something happened. Roger didn't want to be stuck in here when she was in peril.

The only relief Roger felt was that since all of the band was in the room with him, they had informed him that as soon as any news of (Y/n) came about they would all be informed straight away. Roger wouldn't have to wait to find out what was wrong because the nurse would come straight here to talk to them all.

Due to Roger's injury and his bloodloss he had been put on morphine to take the strain and the agony away from him but that, in turn, made him drowsy to the point he seemed hammered. When he noticed the security guards waiting outside the room the drummer threw a fit. All the time at the concert when Roger had noticed something was wrong they hadn't done anything. When Roger got shot they never came over to try and help and when Roger sat on the ground with (Y/n) laid limp in his arms no one had come to help him. The drummer had screamed for them to help, to protect them since they were injured and nothing happened.

Roger had feared for the two lives he cradled in his arms before he passed out and not one single person had gone to help him until sometime after he had passed out.

The very fact that the security guards were there now, taunting him and protecting him when there was no need made the drummer's blood boil over. Why were they protecting him now? There was no need anymore, Roger had already been shot and so had (Y/n), the damage was done. The only thing they could do now was to upset the drummer because he now rendered them useless.

The whole band had been followed by security guards the moment the gunshots had fired. They had been escorted to the hospital to be with their drummer and (Y/n) and each of them had security around them to ensure their safety after they had failed to keep two people safe already. The shooter had been detained but that didn't mean someone else wouldn't try and make an attempt on one of their lives. Yet at this point Roger welcomed another shooter to come and finish him off. He didn't want to be sat waiting like this because the news he was going to receive about (Y/n) could hardly be anything good and so Roger didn't know if he really wanted it or not.

When a nurse had entered the room to check on Roger, he had taken her wrist to tug her closer. Whispering something to her that none of the band could make out, only seeing from Roger's expression that his words were said with a sense of urgency. Roger was the only one who knew about the pregnancy, he didn't know if (Y/n) did a home test or went to the doctor so he didn't know if it would be on her records or not. If it wasn't the doctor would get a shock and a half.

"Rog, you need to take it easy-"

"Piss off." Roger bit back before Brian could even finish what he was saying, making the guitarist shake his head and his eyes roll. Roger should try and stay lying down, try and sleep or just calm down but he was shifting around like a restless animal. He was moving his arm far too much for just having stitches put in and a bullet removed, Roger was surely going to rip the skin apart from the way he was shifting. He pushed himself so he was sitting up, not having the energy to move off the bed like he wanted so he settled for sitting up. "H-how long has she been under?"

The drummer just realised that he had no sense of time. He didn't know how long it had taken for the ambulance to arrive at the concert, he didn't know how long it took for the ambulance to get back to the nearest hospital. Roger had no idea how long it had taken for them to take out the bullet in his shoulder and stitch up his muscle and skin. He didn't know how long he had been under the anaesthetic himself for them to do that before he awoke. For all Roger knew it could have been hours since he had gotten shot meaning that (Y/n) should soon be out of surgery or they should be told something about her condition soon.

"About two hours or so." Brian commented, glancing to his watch before back to Roger who nodded before he started groggily mumbling things under his breath. That was good. They hadn't been told that she had passed away in that time, they hadn't been told of any complications during then. Two hours wasn't too long meaning there was something wrong, it was just right and if Roger's mind wasn't too groggy then they should know something sooner or later.

"Darling, what's wrong?" Freddie questioned when he noticed the sudden shift in Roger's expression. His body stooped over as he didn't have the energy to move. Roger could lose (Y/n), he could lose the baby, he could lose both of them and be broken. But he knew for sure he could not have both of them. She was only four months pregnant, the baby only just had a heartbeat, there was no way they could survive this or survive out of the womb. Roger wasn't even sure if (Y/n) would get through this.

Freddie felt his heart rocketing in his chest when Roger held out his right hand for the drummer to see. He hadn't been awake for too long, Roger had only just started to come around meaning he had only just noticed that the nurse had done a horrible job of trying to clean the blood from his hand. The blood that belonged to the person Roger loved more than anything. The person that Roger was so afraid that he was going to lose. Her blood was stuck underneath his fingernails and still tainting the palm of his hand. The dark molecules were sitting right in the creases and lines of Roger's hand, not shifting when the drummer clenched his hand in an attempt to make them disappear.

"I tried..." No matter how many times Roger told himself that he had tried to protect (Y/n) and their child, he would always come back to the knowledge that his efforts were in vain.

Trying hadn't done anything. Roger had tried to stop (Y/n) from getting hurt but that only resulted in his worst nightmare anyway. Roger took a bullet and tried to hide (Y/n) behind him but she got shot anyway. Nothing Roger had done had helped. He should have turned around, he should have tried to rush (Y/n) back into the dressing room or down the corridor they came from because they would have been out of the firing line that way. What he had done had left her in surgery and ultimately ruined everything.

"I need her to be okay." Roger mumbled the words to himself, but the other bandmates still heard him anyway.

John's head rose from where it was resting in his hands, his eyes narrowing on the drummer. Anyone would think that (Y/n) was Roger's sister and not John's with the way the drummer was begging for her to be okay. John had known her all her life, she was his sister and one of his closest friends, why was Roger acting like this? Roger was friends with (Y/n) but he wasn't related to her. He hadn't had to call her fiance and tell him she had been shot and to come down to the hospital as soon as possible. A fiance who hadn't turned up yet.

"She's my bloody sister." John didn't mean to snap. Roger had done his best to save his sister, Roger had hidden (Y/n) behind him and took a bullet that could easily have hit her. He had tried to stop her from getting hurt when no one else was around to help them. Roger had cradled her before he passed out so naturally he would be afraid for her safety and want to know if she was alright. Roger wanted to know that he had done the right thing but he couldn't believe that he had because (Y/n) had gotten badly injured when he had tried to stop her getting injured at all.

The drummer tilted his head back like he'd been punched before he looked to the bass player who had no idea what went on right under his nose.

"Your sister... your sweet sister who tells you fuck all Deaky. You're so out of the loop you don't even know where it is." Roger slurred the words like he was drunk trying to tell the boys a story. His head was spinning, all he wanted to do was sleep it off like a hangover but he couldn't because he needed to know that (Y/n) would be okay. John and (Y/n) had indeed been more distant lately than before. They weren't as close as they normally were and this meant that (Y/n) had not told him she was having an affair with the drummer out of his band. She hadn't told him she was pregnant with Roger's child instead of the man who she was engaged to.

"Meaning?"

All caution was thrown to the wind when Roger knew it should be kept close to his chest. Roger had been cautious for months because this secret was going to rip the world apart but Roger couldn't help it. The morphine was adding to his anger and making him feel ten times worse yet ten times higher than the usual buzz he got of adrenaline. Roger had no filter, he wanted to tell John what had been going on and he didn't care about the consequences about what he was going to say next.

A groan escaped Roger's lips as he reached into his pocket, digging around before pulling out the silver band (Y/n) had given him earlier.

"Look familiar?" Surely John would recognise this, (Y/n) had shown him the ring when she accepted the engagement not long before she and Roger started their affair. That was when (Y/n) had been happy with her boyfriend. Before she realised that things between them were not like they should be, that they weren't like they were when she was with Roger.

Roger gave her a new lease of life that made her feel on top of the world as opposed to feeling just below it when she was with her boyfriend. Calling off the engagement didn't seem right because it was the first thing that had happened that really made her parents proud of her. She thought it was the right thing to do and after all, why throw that future away when the one with Roger hadn't been certain up until today?

Up until the moment where he told her earlier that he did, in fact, want to be with her and since they were expecting a child together it was naturally the right thing for them both to do since they clearly loved one another.

The drummer dropped the ring into the palm of John's hand, watching his friend examine the ring before looking to Roger in utter confusion. If (Y/n) had called off her engagement then why hadn't she told him? Why had she not even told him that things were rocky between them? Furthermore, why had she given the ring to Roger of all people? She could have given it to her boyfriend to tell him that they were over or throw it away or give it back to the shop it was bought from. What was the purpose behind handing the ring to the drummer?

"Your dear sister took that off because she isn't happy with that bastard anymore. Your dear little sister has been fucking me for the last six months and she's pregnant with my bloody child Deaky!"

Brian and Freddie found themselves staring at one another, unsure what they were meant to do or what they were meant to say. Roger had been having an affair with John's little sister. Roger had gotten her pregnant and Roger had tried to save her tonight because he loved her. Now Roger was being faced with the knowledge that he could lose his child and quite possibly the woman he had fallen head over heels for. All because someone decided to get a little gun-happy and start shooting at them.

Freddie was quick to grab onto John's arms to stop him from throwing a punch to either their drummer or to the bed frame he was laying on. Roger was high on painkillers, he was still clearly in some kind of pain and was in emotional turmoil. It wasn't right to start a fight with him now when he was in this state.

"My sister! My sister could die and you got her pregnant and ruined everything for her!" John practically screamed, needing Freddie to let go of him so he could either deck Roger or pummel his fist into the nearest wall. John didn't want to believe this, he didn't want to believe that one of his best friends had been seeing his sister for half a year and had subsequently broken her relationship because of it. He didn't want to think that if she really was pregnant then it was Roger's because that made things all the more complicated. John especially didn't want to think she was pregnant because she was in surgery after being shot, that wouldn't do her state anything at all.

"That's enough-" Freddie tried to interrupt. They didn't need this conversation now because they didn't know what the situation was with (Y/n).

The bullet may not have been as deep as they thought, the bloodloss might not have been as significant as Roger's since he required a blood transfusion whilst he was under anaesthetic. Maybe, just maybe, the baby would be alright, after all the bullet was in (Y/n)'s lower ribcage and stomach, it wasn't near her intestines or her womb. If not then there was still a big chance that (Y/n) would be alright and would recover from this, there was nothing to say that she wouldn't. Yet.

"She wanted to be with me I never forced her. That's my baby John! My baby, that is a life that I created which is going to be destroyed now because someone fucking shot at her. That lunatic ruined everything for both of us, not me!"

John couldn't say that Roger had been the one to ruin things for (Y/n) because that was entirely unfair. Roger had not forced (Y/n) to have a relationship with him, she had walked into that all on her own. Nor could John say that the baby ruined things either or that it was Roger's fault because even if he didn't want to believe it, that was Roger's child and Roger wanted that baby more than anything. He wanted to be with (Y/n) and he wanted their baby but someone had decided that he didn't deserve that life. They had decided to take that future away from him and try and take (Y/n) and their child's life away because he had a gun and he wanted to use it.

Roger hadn't ruined anything or done anything wrong.

"Mr Taylor? We have news on miss (Y/n) Deacon."

[ghulehgurl]

The Ghost Project was high on adrenaline after one of the best rituals of their tour. For some of them, it had been the best ritual of their career. After two years of touring, Cardinal Copia, the leader of The Project, had been anointed to Papa Emeritus IV. The whole event had gone off without a hitch -  the band was on fire, the crowd was on fire, and the stage crew even felt it behind the scenes.

After the ritual, everyone ran to the bus to dump their belongings and change clothes. They all planned to go out on the town to celebrate their new Papa. The ghouls chatted as they used glamour spells to conceal their horns, tails, and other ghoulish attributes. When they were first summoned from Hell, the ghouls were given the chance to choose the human attributes they would display while under their glamour spell. While their heights and weights stayed the same as their demon forms, each Ghoul got to choose the hair, eyes, and face shape they would display in their human forms. They made sure the glamour they chose was very good looking by human standards.

The aroma of strong cologne and minty toothpaste filled the air on the bus as everyone rushed to get ready. After cleaning himself up, the new Papa emerged from his bedroom at the back of the bus and rejoined his band. He had washed the skull paint from his face, but kept his tight black suit on. They cheered and clapped for their leader and he took a bow, hamming it up. "Let's go, my ghouls!" he said with a grin.

While everyone was getting ready, the bus had moved to a location away from the fans. The group made their way off the bus and wandered down the street to find a bar. They came across a decent-looking place with live music, so the group made their way inside. Papa led them to a dark booth in the corner. Many of them winked at the curious women and men as they passed; it was no secret that they each were hoping to hook up with someone by the end of the night.

Dew played lead guitar in the band, so naturally, he was used to a lot of attention. Although he was the smallest of the ghouls, his size didn’t seem to deter anyone. It wasn’t long before he was receiving wet kisses and experiencing roaming hands from several of the bar-goers.

Rain’s usual spot was in the back of center stage, playing his black and white bass. Aether, the rhythm guitarist, and Dew stayed up front, situated on opposite sides of the stage. During the rituals, they all had their individual parts to play, but the trio would occasionally come together at center stage and play next to each other. Dew would often sidle up to the bassist and nuzzle his neck.

Rain was no stranger to Dew’s affections on stage, but as he sat in the bar, he couldn’t help but wonder if tonight had been different. Each time the guitarist had approached Rain on stage, he locked his menacing eyes on the bassist. The sultry looks caused heat to shoot straight to Rain’s cock.

The bassist was a very sweet ghoul and tended to be on the shy side. He normally stayed in the back and interacted with the crowd as little as possible. As far as personalities went, he was the complete opposite of Dew.

The guitarist had earned the nickname Gremlin due to his aggressive behavior. He was known to violently throw guitar picks at the crowd and at Aether. He would often seductively lick his hands, picks, and guitar just to get a rise out of the crowd. Dew stomped around the stage as if he owned it. He was pure sex appeal.

Tonight, Dew had been on a rampage. He wanted Rain - badly. The guitarist was especially friendly, following Rain around the stage, trying to touch and snuggle him as often as possible. Sometimes he just stood next to the slight ghoul, hoping Rain would catch on, but the evening was now almost over and Dew still hadn’t received any reciprocation from the bassist.

The noise coming from the group got louder and louder as the amount of alcohol they consumed increased. Several humans had joined them at the table, squeezing themselves between the ghouls. There were grabby hands and messy kisses all around.

Papa had a very lovely woman sitting in his lap. Dew could see him speaking seductively into her ear while running his knuckles across her cheek - the signature move of the lead singer. Dew knew that one by one, following Papa’s lead, everyone would eventually start leaving the bar to scurry off with their chosen playmate for the evening.

Dew hadn’t been able to take his eyes off the beautiful ghoul sitting across from him all night. Rain was slight in size, but still larger than the guitarist. During the ritual, Dew hadn’t been able to keep his distance from the bassist. It pained him to be so far apart from him now.

The small ghoul had been very obviously distracted most of the evening. By the end of the night, Dew’s adoring humans had given up vying for his attention and migrated to the other ghouls in hopes of going home with one of them instead.

Rain kept glancing across the table at Dew, absent-mindedly spinning his beer bottle. The guitarist's eyes were on him, never wavering. Rain tried to insert himself into the others’ conversations, but he couldn’t seem to distract himself from the gremlin's stare. By the end of the night, their gazes had locked on each other.

Dew stared at the cute blush on Rain’s cheeks and the way he nervously fiddled with whatever was in front of him. Fuck, that ghoul is endearing, Dew thought. He couldn’t wait to taste his mouth - if the bassist would let him. Dew hadn’t gotten that far yet.

Aether, who had been watching the exchange between the two ghouls, finally said, “Would you guys stop eye fucking and get a room already?!” The rest of the table burst into laughter at Rain and Dew’s expense. The guitarist noticed the bassist’s shoulders drop and thought to himself that this was his moment.

“Fuck you guys!” Dew spat, sliding out of the booth and holding his hand out to Rain. “C’mon Rainy, let’s leave these assholes here and find something else to do.” The bassist slowly took Dew’s calloused hand and stood up.

Swiss, the backup guitarist, started cat calling the smaller ghouls as they left the table. The others joined in the harassment, whistling and clapping their hands loudly. Dew rolled his eyes and gave his bandmates the finger as they walked out. He didn’t know why they were making such a big deal out of things; most everyone in the band hadn’t already fucked each other at some point.

Once outside, Dew looked over at Rain, who was staring down at his own feet. The guitarist stopped and pulled the bassist to the side, putting his finger under the slight ghoul’s chin and lifting it to meet his gaze. “Hey, don’t let them bother you,” he said. “They're just jealous that they aren’t getting attention from a beautiful ghoul like you.”

Rain looked shocked. “You think I’m beautiful? Fuck, Dew.” He stared at the guitarist for a moment, unsure of what else to say.

Dew reached up and rubbed his thumb across the bassist's pouty bottom lip. “I always have, Rain,” he said quietly. “I’ve just been too nervous to tell you about it.” A couple years worth of yearning for the ghoul had finally culminated in this moment. Dew suddenly realized how mushy he sounded, so he coughed and patted the other ghoul’s shoulder in an attempt to keep his focus.

The two started walking down the street without a specific destination in mind. Dew looked at his watch and realized how late it had become. At this hour, there probably wasn't much else they could go do. Hearing some commotion behind them, the duo look back to see the rest of their bandmates leaving with someone, headed off in several different directions.

The smaller ghoul nudged Rain. "Looks like they won't be making it back anytime soon. Do you wanna go watch a movie on the bus?" The bassist nodded in approval. The pair headed back toward the bus, making a quick stop at a gas station to get some snacks to share.

As soon as the ghouls reboard the bus, they drop their glamour spells. The ghouls stretch their tails and scratch their horns as they change into their pajamas. Rain watches as Dew lets down his long hair, thinking about running his hands through the blonde locks. The small ghoul gives the bassist a lopsided grin. Rain looks away quickly and focuses on putting his dirty clothes into his bag.

The bus’s common area isn't very big. It contains a small TV tucked under a kitchenette cupboard with a shitty DVD player that only works some of the time. A bench style couch sits beneath a window opposite from the television. The seat is a tight fit for two average-sized adults, so it's usually only occupied by one person at a time. Rain and Dew, being smaller than average, both fit comfortably in the small space.

Dew grabbed a random movie from the small collection they kept on the bus and put it in the DVD player. He gave the machine a smack to get it to register the disc before joining Rain on the couch. Rain pressed play on the remote and the introduction music started. The sound that came from the tiny speakers was terrible; even at full volume, you had to really concentrate to make out the dialogue. Dew looked at the other ghoul and asked, "Can you hear it okay, Rainy?"

The bassist grinned. "You know I can't." They both chuckled and dug into their snacks.

Dew tried to tear into a bag of Twizzlers, but the wrapper wasn't cooperating. "Fucking. Thing. Won't. Open!" Suddenly the bag ripped apart and red candies went flying. They watched as the licorice fell onto the floor and into their laps. The guitarist got an idea and reached for a candy in the other ghoul’s lap. He grazed his knuckles across the crotch in Rain's loose pajama bottoms, teasing his cock beneath. The small ghoul gave his friend a wicked grin. "Oopsie..."

The bassist felt his cock twitch just a little from the light touch. Rain looked wide-eyed at Dew and thought to himself, He IS a little gremlin. The slight ghoul couldn't say he was too surprised that the other was hitting on him. After all, they were pretty much eye-fucking back at the bar. Rain blushed at the thought. Fucking Dew, he has no shame.

Dew watched the blush creep across Rain's face, and before he could stop himself, he put his hand on the bassist's cheek. "You're so fucking cute," he whispered. The slight ghoul's face deepened in color as he leaned into Dew’s touch, mumbling, "...thanks."

The guitarist didn't miss the silent cues Rain was giving. The small ghoul leaned toward the bassist, staring at his lips. Dew stopped mid way, silently begging him to meet in the middle. He needed to be sure Rain was into him. Into this. The last thing he wanted to do was make assumptions and scare the other ghoul away.

The bassist hesitated for a moment. He knew what Dew wanted, but was this what he wanted? Rain felt an internal conflict in the pit of his stomach, but finally decided to throw his reservations out the window. The slight ghoul leaned forward and pressed his lips against Dew’s. The smaller ghoul let out a quiet moan as he deepened their kiss. They slowly explored each other’s mouths for a while, their tongues dancing as they got a feel for each other.

His excitement building, Dew took the lead, pulling Rain into his lap so the bassist could straddle his thighs. Rain wrapped his arms around the gremlin's neck and Dew grasped the slight ghoul's hips, holding him close.

Dew pulled back and removed Rain's shirt, tossing it into the darkness of the common area. The guitarist hummed in approval as he ran his hands up and down the bassist's naked sides. The small ghoul moved to Rain's chest to lightly pinch a nipple, causing the bassist to let out a not-so-quiet moan.

"Oohh, so we like our nipples played with, do we?" Dew growled into Rain's ear as he pinched the other side. The bassist made a beautiful sound that confirmed the gremlin's suspicion.

The guitarist pulled his own shirt off and tossed it aside with the other. Dew took that moment to admire the bassist's bare skin. He had a small patch of hair in the middle of his chest, but the rest of his torso was bare. The small ghoul wanted to taste every inch of skin in front of him.

Rain realized the other had let go of him. Suddenly becoming self conscious, he covered himself with his arms. Dew looked into the bassist's eyes and murmured, “None of that. I was just thinking how sexy you look in my lap. There are so many things I've dreamt of doing to you. Will you let me do them?”

The bassist crashed his lips into Dew's, giving him a hard kiss. He wanted his lips more than anything else at this moment. Rain sat back onto the small ghoul's knees to admire the rings Dew had through his nipples. In a flash of bravery, the slight ghoul bent down to pull a ring into his mouth, tugging and flicking with his tongue. As he did, the guitarist sucked air in through his teeth and let his head fall back. "Fuuuuck yesss," he hissed.

Dew's reaction boosted Rain’s confidence, so he splayed his hands over the guitarist's chest, pinching both nipples. He leaned in and placed gentle kisses along the small ghoul's collar bones up to his neck. The bassist stopped to nibble Dew's skin, leaving a trail of small pink marks as he made his way back to the ghoul’s red swollen lips.

Dew dragged his nails down the bassist’s back leaving red lines and goosebumps from his short claws. "Yesss, Rainy,” he moaned. “You're such a good boy.” Dew started rocking his hips up into the bassist's, causing their hard cocks to rub against each other. The friction felt good against the slight ghoul's dick, and a wet spot formed on his grey sweatpants.

Moans and the echoes of loud kisses began to fill the bus. They started to become more aggressive with each other, pulling hair, scratching skin, and grinding into each other violently. Soon Dew realized their position was restricting the contact he craved. “Switch places with me, baby,” he said, “but first get those pants off.”

Rain quickly complied, practically tearing his sweats off. "I like your eagerness, sweet boy," Dew cooed. The bassist moaned at his words as he sat down on the bench. The guitarist calling him a sweet boy had made him rock hard and he slowly thumbed over the drops of precum that had formed at the tip of his cock.

The guitarist removed his own pants, giving his cock a few tugs. The slight ghoul's attention was back on the gremlin as he fell to his knees and rubbed his hands up and down Rain's thighs. "You're my good boy,” Dew praised him. “I want to suck my good boy's cock. Can I do that, Rainy?" The bassist let out a breathy moan. "I need to hear you say it, sweetheart,” Dew continued. “Tell me what you want." Dew cooed as he nuzzled the bassist’s cock, rubbing his nose and cheek along the shaft.

Rain watched the gremlin for a moment as he moved before squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure. "Yes Dew, pleassee," he whined, softly thrusting his hips up to get more friction.

"Good boy." Dew moved Rain's hand away from the leaking, pulsing head and licked the precum that had gathered there.

"Oh fffuck, Dew. Please, more. I need more." Rain’s voice was filled with urgency. The bassist reached his hands to the back of Dew's head, claws pressing into his scalp. He wound the long locks into his fists, yanking lightly. Rain couldn't keep his eyes off the gremlin as he watched his cock disappear into his mouth.

The wet heat was both too much and not enough at the same time. It took almost everything he had not to thrust into the guitarist's mouth. Dew lifted off Rain’s dick with a pop, drool running down his chin "Sweet boy, if you want to fuck my face, just ask." he flashed a devilish smile at Rain, enjoying how flustered he was getting.

Rain whimpered, wanting to fuck Dew's throat so badly. He could imagine looking down at the gremlin's tear stained eyes and watching as he choked on his dick. "Fuck yes, please Daddy." Rain stilled at his own words, panic strewn across his face.

The gremlin grinned, thinking fuck, he's gonna make me cum right here and now. "Mmm, sweet boy,” he said, “come fuck daddy's face - and don't be gentle." Rain could barely get to his feet after hearing Dew's words, but he managed. He briefly worried that his dick was too thick to be rough. His fear vanished as he watched Dew take his whole cock into his mouth in one swift movement.

"Fuuuuck yessss!" Rain thrusted slowly at first, his patch of curls brushing against the other's nose. Dew looked straight up into the bassist’s eyes and pulled on Rain's hips to spur him on.

Dew's tongue was soft on the underside of Rain's shaft. He let his jaw go slack, preparing himself for the hammering he was about to receive. As soon as Rain increased the speed of his thrusts, the guitarist's cheeks hollowed, his sucks keeping in time with the other's movements.

The gremlin could feel his own cock slapping against his stomach, leaving a string of precum behind. He grabbed onto Rain's ass cheeks and dug his nails into the flesh, leaving tiny bruises. Rain didn't seem to care as he sputtered out obscenities and loud moans.

The bassist's cock was harder than it had ever been. He could feel it throbbing each time his dick hit Dew's throat. "Yesss daddy, please,” he begged. “Your mouth feels soooo good. Ohmyfuccckk..." Rain's shy demeanor had been completely erased in the ecstasy of it all.

Rain was amazed at the guitarist's lack of gag reflex. He watched as his cock disappeared repeatedly into the other ghoul's throat. Dew’s eyes watered and drool ran down his chin onto the bassist's balls, but he still managed to growl from the back of his throat each time he heard a 'yes, daddy' or 'please, daddy'.

Deciding he needed to be buried to the hilt in Rain's tight hole, Dew tapped the bassist’s thigh. Rain came back to earth and stopped thrusting. "Fuck, did I hurt you?" he asked.

Dew slowly removed the ghoul’s cock from his mouth. "No, sweet boy,” he said, “I just want you to cum while my dick's buried in your ass." He stared up at Rain, not breaking eye contact as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

The bassist moaned and helped the small ghoul to his feet. The guitarist pulled Rain into a ravenous kiss, wanting Rain to taste himself on his mouth. "See how sweet you taste? Daddy loves his good boy's cock in his mouth."

Dew grabbed Rain by the wrist and pulled him into the guitarist's bottom bunk. The bassist tilted his head, trying to find a comfortable position. "I don't think there's enough room in here," he said as he craned his neck. The small ghoul grinned and looked over his shoulder at Papa's private room at the back of the bus.

"I don't know, Dew. Papa would freak if we fucked in his room." It pained him to shoot the idea down; at this point, Rain's dick was so hard and throbbing he would probably let Dew fuck him on the roof of the bus if he asked.

"All the more reason to do it,” Dew cooed. “C'mon sweet boy - let’s live dangerously." He took Rain’s hand and dragged him to the back of the bus, shutting the privacy screen behind them.

Rain wasted no time and pushed Dew against the weak plywood wall, causing it to groan. The bassist covered the small ghoul's lips, face, and neck with hard, sloppy kisses. The guitarist pressed his hips against Rain's, waiting to feel the friction against his cock. Both ghouls breathed heavily and moaned loudly. The air reeked with the smell of sex. If anyone boarded the bus right then, they would be well aware of what was going on behind the closed door.

Rain pulled back for air and Dew took charge, shoving the bassist onto his back on Papa's bed. The gremlin crawled up Rain's body and straddled his chest. “Do you think you can take daddy's cock, sweet boy?” Dew asked. “Can you be a good boy and suck me off?" Dew stroked himself slowly, playing with the precum that had formed on the tip.

The bassist let out a deep, throaty moan. "Please, daddy,” he begged, “I want your cock in my mouth."

Dew reached down and gently stroked Rain's cheek "Such a good boy," he cooed. “Now open wide.” The gremlin scooted closer to the bassist's mouth and straddled his head. Using the wall in front of him as support, he nudged Rain's lips with his dripping cock. Rain parted his lips and happily accepted the guitarist into his mouth.

Unsure of what the other ghoul could handle, Dew started moving his hips in shallow thrusts. He used his free hand to run his fingers through Rain's hair. "You're such a good boy,” he praised, “taking my cock so well. Can you handle more, sweetheart?" Dew pulled his dick out so Rain could answer.

"Yes, daddy,” Rain moaned. “Please fuck my throat. I need your cock."

The gremlin almost came just from hearing the bassist’s words. "Mmmm, thank you sweet boy," he moaned, thrusting into Rain’s mouth hard and fast. "Fuuuuckkk, you're such a good boy.” he groaned as he moved his hips once again. “Oohh, fuck yes, baby…”

Dew nearly exploded as he felt Rain swallow, squeezing the head of his cock with his throat. The guitarist looked down and watched as his cock slammed into the bassist’s mouth. The slight ghoul's cheeks were sucked in and tears had started to form in the corners of his eyes. The small ghoul slowed his place slightly so he could wipe the tears from Rain’s face.

When the urge to cum became too intense, the gremlin pulled out of Rain's mouth with a pop. Dew slid back down the bassist's body so that they were eye to eye once again. The bassist's chin was covered in his own saliva and he was trying to catch his breath. "You did such a good job swallowing daddy's cock, my sweet boy," Dew praised him. Rain whimpered and pulled Dew close, planting a messy kiss on his face.

The guitarist pulled away to search Papa's bedside drawer for lube. "Bingo!" he said as he pulled out a bottle and flipped the cap open. "Rainy, are you ready?" Dew pushed the bassist's legs wide open and settled between them on his knees, sitting back on his heels. He began to stroke Rain's painfully hard and dripping cock.

"Please, daddy,” Rain whimpered. “I need to feel you inside me. Please..." Dew leaned forward, bracing himself with one arm while he kissed the bassist, attempting to distract him from the lubed finger pressing against his tight hole.

"Fuuuck, baby,” Dew moaned against Rain’s mouth as he pushed a finger inside him. “You're so tight. You're gonna feel so good wrapped around my dick." Dew sat back and slowly stroked Rain's cock. He pushed a second finger into the hole, scissoring to loosen the muscles. The bassist started whimpering and begging for more.

"You make the most beautiful sounds for daddy,” Dew purred. “You're almost ready for me to fill you up with my cock, sweet boy." Dew inserted a third finger, slowly thrusting it in and out. When Rain started bucking his hips to match the rhythm, the guitarist knew he was ready.

Dew slicked up his own cock with the lube. He held the bassist's leg in place with his left hand and guided his cock to Rain’s hole with his right. As soon as he pushed his head in, Rain let out a long moan. "Fuuucking hell, daddy! Please fill me up!"

The guitarist wanted nothing more than to thrust into the handsome ghoul laying before him, but instead he took his time, afraid of hurting his lover. "Soon, baby, I promise. I want this, too. I want to slam my cock into your ass until I fill it with my cum." The slight ghoul was babbling and begging for more.

As he felt the bassist’s muscles start to relax, Dew pushed himself in about halfway, stroking Rain's cock to ease him through the pain. "Baby, you're doing so good,” he praised. “Sweet Lucifer, you're so fucking tight!" The bassist relaxed more and the gremlin pushed his shaft all the way to the hilt.

They both let out a long moan, pausing for a moment to allow Rain to adjust to being filled.

Dew’s body may have been small, but his dick was not lacking in size. "Okay, sweet boy, are you ready?" he finally asked.

"Ohhh yes, daddy,” Rain breathed. “Please... I need you.."

Dew slowly pulled his cock almost all the way out, pausing for a moment before he pushed his full length back in. The guitarist threw his head back and moaned, repeating the action a few times until he found a comfortable rhythm. Rain babbled out a string of profanities, begging for Dew to pick up speed. The gremlin leaned over his lover and used Rain's shoulders as leverage to pound into him as hard as he could.

The slight ghoul let out a whimper, begging for his dick to be touched. "Okay, sweet boy,” Dew said. “I'll let you cum since you beg so pretty." With a flick of his hand, the guitarist started jerking the bassist’s cock in time with his own thrusts. "Cum, baby... Cum for daddy..."

Rain let out a strangled cry as he climaxed, releasing ropes of cum all over his chest and the small ghoul’s hand. Dew didn't stop, working his lover through his orgasm until the bassist went limp under him, panting hard.

Dew swiped a finger across one of the pools of cum and shoved it into Rain's mouth. "Fuck, Rainy,” he moaned. “Such a good boy. Taste daddy's fingers." The guitarist's thrusts began to falter as he approached his own orgasm. The bassist bit down on Dew's fingers and the pain pushed him over the edge.

I wrote my first fic!

[we-are-only-halfway-home93]

Come and Lay the Roses 3- Where Do We Begin?- [Ivar x OC]

Summary: Aaline moves. Ivar ignores Bjorn’s attempts to discuss the wedding.

Characters: Ivar x OC, Bjorn x Torvi, Ubbe x Margrethe, Hvitserk x Thora, Sigurd x OC, Ragnar, Lagertha

Warnings: Arranged marriage, language, violence, sex, and torture.

Word Count: 3503

Prologue Ch. 1 Ch. 2

“The beginning is the most important part of the work.”

~Plato

Aaline watched as the last box was carried out of what used to be her front door. She surveyed the space that was her living room and felt significantly smaller than she had a moment before. The high ceilings seemed darker now that her paintings and pillows were gone.

She had been living in the penthouse suite since she’d moved home from Oxford two years ago. It was a graduation gift from her father. He’d built the apartment complex four years before and used the penthouse as a coming home gift as well as a way to make amends for the things he hadn’t been around for. She’d had the freedom to decorate how she wanted and she used rich reds and yellows to paint the walls.

He still owned the building. Well, technically she owned it now. It was just yesterday that she met with her father to sign over the company. Hvitserk had accompanied her as the legal representation for Ragnar and her father had his own attorney present. He had tried to speak to her about matters outside of their business deal but she pointedly ignored him. Hvitserk tried to move everything along quickly but her father must’ve spoken to his lawyer before the meeting because he made things as tedious as possible.

They finally concluded their business after nearly three hours of discussion. Everything that was once owned by her father was now in her name. His shares, his buildings, his accounts, his company. Everything belonged to her. He was a member of the board in name only. He had no power over the company and any decisions that were made in its name. She agreed to give him a monthly stipend of twenty thousand dollars, five thousand a week, which was more than enough to support him. What he did with that money was his business. She would give him no more, no less. That was the only contact they would have for the rest of his life.

He tried to speak to her as they left but Hvitserk must’ve picked up on her mood and politely stepped between them as she made her way out. Ives Jensen was not easily deterred and managed to make the elevator. Hvitserk gave her an apologetic look but she ignored him. “Aaline, would you please say something?” She didn’t acknowledge him and instead watched the numbers change as they descended.

“How many times must I apologize?” Hvitserk snorted and tried to cover it up with a cough. Aaline rolled her eyes and sighed. “You’re my only child. I was trying to protect you.” Aaline brought her gaze down to the reflective silver doors and looked at her father. She watched him until she heard the ding that announced their arrival. The doors were opening when she finally spoke. “You didn’t do this for me.” She didn’t wait to see it Hvitserk was following her.

She had gone back to her apartment knowing that Ragnar’s private moving company would be there in the morning to take her personal possessions back to the estate.

She had decided to leave the basic furniture in the apartment and just take her personal items. Lagertha had told her that she could stay in one of the guest rooms until the wedding. It went unspoken that she and Ivar wouldn’t be made to share a room following their wedding ceremony. She would be moving into one of the guest rooms close to Ivar’s room. She ignored the reasons for that.

The moving company arrived at eight am that morning and was surprised by the number of things she wasn’t taking with her. She told them she was renting the penthouse out so she was leaving the furniture behind. They didn’t ask any questions and began moving boxes. Torvi, Sibylle, and Thora arrived shortly after and Ubbe dropped Margrethe off on his way to work. The four women were there mainly for moral support but Aaline could see them whispering together when they thought she wasn’t looking.

It was almost ten and the movers had taken her last box. She stood with her hands on her hips as she surveyed the apartment. It felt cold now that she couldn’t see her presence in the walls anymore.

She startled when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned and smiled at Sibylle. “The truck is loaded and ready to go. There’s a car here for us if you’d like to get brunch with us?” She phrased it as a question like she thought Aaline would say no.

Aaline had never had a lot of friends growing up but she needed to find someone to latch on to during this process. The next several months weren’t going to be easy for her and this group of women had more knowledge of this organization than she would ever hope for. She needed them not only as a line of information but as friends.

She figured out a long time ago that she didn’t do well on her own. When left to her own devices, people got hurt. She didn’t like the person that she was when she was alone. She needed people to care about, people to love. She needed a reason behind her anger and she felt that these women could be that for her. She could love them. Maybe it would lessen the blow of a loveless marriage.

She smiled and nodded, letting Sibylle lead her out the door. Aaline balked when she saw that they were riding in a limousine. “A limo?” She questioned. Sibylle laughed and opened the door. Torvi poked her head out of the door and smiled. “Come on you two! I’m starved!” Aaline sighed and followed Sibylle inside the car.

Thora had already opened a bottle of champagne and handed a flute to Aaline. She smiled and took a tentative sip. She saw Torvi glance at the other women before turning her body to face Aaline. She turned her eyes to the older woman and waited. She clearly had something on her mind.

“Aaline, we know this can’t be easy for you but, the four of us, we wanted you to know that we’re here for you. Whatever you need.” Aaline felt her throat get tight and swallowed several times. “I appreciate that.” She nodded and took a bigger sip of her champagne. The bubbles burned her throat but she sniffed and blinked the tears away. Torvi placed a gentle hand on her knew and Aaline had to tamp down her reflexes to pull away.

Thora leaned forward then and waited for Aaline to meet her eyes. “We know how this family can be and we’ve all struggled with something at one time or another. It’s normal to be overwhelmed in this family.” Aaline snorted and shook her head. The car was silent for several minutes. Aaline knew they were expecting her to speak but she didn’t know where to start. She swallowed thickly and opened her mouth.

“I spent most of my childhood alone. I still had the cliche dream of marrying someone that I love and having this perfect wedding. As I got older I thought about it less and less but I always thought I’d marry someone for love.” She finished her champagne and laughed humorlessly. “I guess that’s one more dream I can give up on.” The other women gave her looks of confusion but didn’t say anything.

“This might not be the best time but…” Thora started rifling through her purse and Aaline tensed when she saw a black box emerge from its depths. She looked up at Aaline and blushed at her incredulous look. She passed the velvet box to Torvi. “I know this is supposed to come from Ivar but...to say he hasn’t been receptive is an understatement so...we,” she gestured to the other women around her. Aaline looked apprehensively at the box resting in Torvi’s hands. “Decided that maybe we could do this for you. We wanted to find something elegant and simple but also stunning.”

Aaline took the box with shaky fingers and pulled it open. Inside there were two rings nestled together. One was a row of seven small teardrop diamonds arching in a clean line. The second ring was a large oval diamond on a simple gold band.

“The larger stone is the wedding ring that Iv...that you’ll get on the day of. The small stones will be your engagement ring. We figured you could wear it to all the appointments.” Thora wrung her hands together nervously as she watched Aaline stare at the rings. Aaline gently pulled the first ring out of the box and, with shaking fingers, slipped it on her ring finger. She took a deep breath and looked at it on her hand. She could almost believe that she was happy.

She closed the box on the other ring and smiled tightly at the other women. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.” Torvi smiled and rested her hand on Aaline’s knee. “We just want to make this transition easier for you. Ivar is difficult but he’s not all bad.” Margrethe snorted into her champagne flute and Aaline turned accusing eyes towards her. The other women didn’t seem to think too much of the outburst either. “Margrethe.” Sibylle scolded. Margrethe just tilted her head and kept her mouth shut.

Aaline may have had her own opinions about Ivar but for someone else to blatantly insult him when he wasn’t there rankled her.

One of her biggest irritants was people who talked badly about others behind their backs. She felt that honesty was the best way to go through life and for Margrethe to overtly display her dislike for Ivar in front of Aaline was bold.

Sibylle turned back to Aaline. “Ivar is a complicated man. There are many layers to him.” Aaline nodded and looked out the window. She watched as the buildings passed by.

Everything was a blur. She prided herself on her ability to get through tough situations. This situation, however, had no end in sight. She was going to have to spend the rest of her life with Ivar Lothbrok. At least the rest of her father’s life. She couldn’t imagine Ragnar would take to kindly to her divorcing his son during her father’s lifetime. Probably ever, if she was honest with herself.

She drew her eyebrows together when they passed the exit for the estate. She turned to look at the other women and none of them would meet her eyes. Sibylle looked guilty and Aaline felt a ball of dread grow in her stomach. “We passed the exit for the house.” She said. Torvi glanced at her sisters and, when none of them made a move to speak, she cleared her throat.

“Ragnar’s men know what to do. Lagertha is going to make sure everything gets where it needs to go. We need to start wedding preparations.” Aaline never wished more for a mother. She would have a confidant who could field these situations. Someone she knew that she could lean on right now.

The Lothbrok women were wonderful. They’d been very welcoming and were working hard to make things easy on her but, in the end, she didn’t know them. They were strangers who were loyal to their husbands. They had no ties to her other than the fact that she would one day be a part of their family. They owed her nothing.

Aaline sighed heavily and looked up at Torvi. She’d pulled out an iPad and was scrolling through it. She looked up when she heard Aaline sigh. She smiled and it was filled with pity. Aaline felt the irritation rising in her chest but she held her tongue. Of course, Torvi would pity her. She was marrying her brother-in-law whose reputation was widely regarded as difficult and violent. Anyone would pity her.

She took a deep breath and tried to smile. She was sure it looked more like a grimace. “What’s first?”

.

The gun jerked in his hands and he lowered it when he knew the clip was empty. He narrowed his eyes when the target came towards him. He tugged the headphones from his ears and draped them around his neck. He smiled when he saw the holes spaced close together at the head and chest. He tugged it down and set it aside, putting up another target. He shoved a fresh clip into his gun and took aim.

He lowered his hands when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked over his shoulder and sneered at Ubbe. His brother simply smiled and jerked his head over to the side. Ivar cleared his chamber and engaged the safety, slipping the piece back into its holster at the small of his back. He followed Ubbe towards the rest of his brothers at the entrance of the range.

Björn was finishing his conversation on the phone while Hvitserk and Sigurd spoke in hushed voices nearby. Hvitserk nodded to them as they approached and Ivar heard Björn say goodbye and hang up. He turned and looked up at them, sighing heavily. His shoulders were tense and Ivar could see the lines of tension by his mouth and eyes. He gestured his brothers closer and they huddled in a tight circle.

“That was Lagertha. They discovered which dock was hit.” Bjorn took a deep breath like he was bracing himself. “It was Kattegat.”

Ivar sucked in a sharp breath. Kattegat was their busiest, legal shipping dock. Both foreign and domestic trade come out of the dock. The hit this would bring to their organization, both legal and illegal, would be great.

The night that Ivar and Aaline met, the damage to the dock was what pulled Ragnar away from the meeting. Ragnar had gotten a call that there was smoke coming from one of the warehouses that was on the dock. By the time Ragnar and Lagertha had arrived, dozens of shipping containers were burning and billows of smoke were rising up over the dock.

“The damage has been tallied and we lost three million dollars worth of foreign goods and, roughly, two million worth of domestic product.” Ubbe cursed and Ivar watched Björn rub at his temples. “Do we know who’s responsible?” Hvitserk asked. Björn looked up and nodded, taking a deep breath through his nose. “Aelle, the head of the Northumbria chapter of The Saxons.” Ivar tensed and felt the heat rise up in his face.

Ever since his mother died the relationship between The Northmen and The Saxon’s had been shaky at best. Ecbert and Aelle claimed they knew nothing of Aslaug’s death but Ivar didn’t trust a Saxon as far as he could throw them. Aelle and Ecbert had made a deal with Ragnar before Aslaug’s death and the grounds it stood on had been precarious from the start. As soon as Aslaug died, any trust or deals between the two groups disintegrated and any hope of them finding new common ground died with Aslaug.

“How do we know it was Aelle?” Ubbe asked. Björn opened his phone and scrolled through it. Ivar saw him open up his pictures and pull up the most recent shot. He turned it around and showed his brothers. Ivar felt his blood rush and his fingers tingle. The adrenaline that raced through his veins was intoxicating. A vindictive smile graced his face and he moved the phone closer to his face.

It was of a man. An older man with dark hair and a dark beard. He was sitting on the ground with his hands behind his back. His eyes were filled with a scornful fire and his upper lip was pulled up in a snarl. There was blood and dirt on his face and neck and Ivar could see other dead Saxon’s strewn behind him. He had the same eyes as Aelle.

“Aethelwulf?” Hvitserk asked as he took the phone from Björn and held it between him and Sigurd. “Did he organize it?” Björn snorted and shook his head, taking his phone back. “Of course not. Aelle’s the brains behind everything. This was his idea. Aethelwulf has always done his brother’s bidding. He reaps the benefits without any of the fallout.”

Ivar licked his lips. “Now he’s ours.” Bjorn nodded and put his hands in his pockets. “We’re holding him at Hedeby until Ragnar decides what to do with him.” Bjorn jerked his head towards Ivar. “We need to talk about your wedding.” Ivar scowled and pulled his headphones back over his ears. He turned towards the range but jerked back when someone pulled his headphones from his head.

“Don’t touch me.” He snarled. Ubbe held his hands up, Ivar’s headphones clenched in his first. “It’s unavoidable, Ivar. There are things we need to discuss.” Björn continued. Ivar turned his back on his oldest brother and pulled his gun from its holster. “There’s nothing to discuss, brother.”

He turned to face Björn, his gun aimed at the target. “The women are handling it. I’ll be there on the day of, like the good son I am.” He sneered and fired one shot. “Then, I’ll take her, like the good husband that I am.” He fired another shot, never breaking eye contact with Björn. “Whether she’s alive the next morning, well…” He shrugged and turned back to the target, emptying his clip.

Björn scoffed and stalked up to Ivar. He stood in front of him, chest to chest, and spoke. “You won’t kill her. Do you know why? Because father has arranged this deal with her father. We benefit greatly from this deal. We get money, property, shares, and land. That’s more than what we would’ve gotten had Ragnar just killed her father and been done with it.

“As much as this pisses you off, you know as much I as I do that this is a good arrangement. You have her file. Why don’t you read it? Maybe you’ll learn something about her that you actually like.” Ivar glared up at his oldest brother.

Ivar loved all his brothers, he did, but he hardly ever liked them. Björn was the golden boy. He did everything Ragnar ever wanted or expected him to do. He figured it came with being the oldest and losing his sister at a young age. Björn never wanted to disappoint Ragnar and made it is own personal mission that the rest of them didn’t either.

Ivar had no plans to kill his future wife. He liked the color it brought to Björn’s face when he threatened to but he knew how important this business deal was for his father. He would marry her, like the dutiful son he was, no matter how angry this lack of free will made him. They would be married in name only. If Ragnar wanted grandchildren, he would have to look to the other four sons that the gods had gifted him for a blessing like that.

“I don’t think you’re nearly as angry about this as she is,” Hvitserk interjected. Ivar and Björn both turned to look at him.

Hvitserk smiled and shrugged. “Out of all of us, I’ve spent the most time with her thus far. I had to spend three hours in a room with her and her father to legalize the transfer of all of his assets in her name. She wouldn’t even look at him.”

Ivar quirked an eyebrow. He could admit to himself that he was angry with his father but they had a relationship built on much more than their business ventures. Ragnar loved all of his sons and always tried to do what was best for them. He had never been wrong and Ivar, begrudgingly, admitted to himself that Ragnar was probably right in his assumption that this marriage would be good for them.

He had spent very little time with his fiance to know her true feelings on the subject.

Hvitserk continued. “His lawyer kept trying to extend the meeting to include some rather ridiculous clauses and legal options but she was having none of it. Her father managed to slip onto the same elevator as us and kept trying to talk to her. The only thing she ever said to him was a response to his plea that he was trying to protect her.” Hvitserk snorted and shook his head. “She said, ‘You didn’t do this for me.’ and then walked out.”

Ivar digested that information. He may not have been happy with the arrangement but at least he knew that Ragnar would never put himself before his children. Ragnar had always made sure to tell his sons that he would die for them and nearly had on more than one occasion. In the case of his fiance, however, it looked like her father was willing to throw her to the proverbial wolves to keep his head on his shoulders.

[seattlegrace-rpg]

Name: Thomas “Tas” Evan Oneeri Jr. Age: 19 Occupation: Longterm patient FC: Leebo Freeman

BIOGRAPHY:

Thomas Jr. was born the youngest of three children, half brother to the other two. His mother died giving birth to him. She hadn’t been seeing a doctor regularly during her pregnancy and her eclampsia wasn’t caught nor was he ever seen in ultrasounds before his birth. Right away it was obvious there was something wrong, his spine was badly deformed, his legs were bowed in, he’d suffered multiple fractures in the hard birth, the whites of his eyes were tinged blue. Tas was diagnosed with Type IV Osteogenesis Imperfecta at one week old. However that was only the beginning of his problems. Tas’ father, Thomas Sr., in his grief of losing the love of his life and unable to control his anger turned heavily to alcohol and began to verbally abuse then physically abused his two older sons. Isaac, the oldest, kept his mouth shut and his head down to avoid attention. Marcus, the second oldest, worked up the courage to tell one of the doctors while at an appointment for the then two year old Thomas, who had gotten his nickname of Tas because of his difficulty pronouncing his own name. By two Tas’d had surgery to try and correct the bowing in his legs and was recovering from that when the social workers came. His father was arrested and the three were placed in foster care as their only known living relative their uncle, Jonathan, was currently in jail for taking the fall for a murder his twin brother Thomas Sr. had committed when they were seventeen. Isaac and Marcus were adopted within three years being as young as they were as well as healthy, unfortunately to different homes despite trying to keep them together. Tas wasn’t adopted and remained in foster care bouncing around from home to home until he was around fourteen when an older couple adopted him, Elizabeth and Wendy Nelson. Tas doesn’t remember much about his brothers and the foster homes he had stayed in stopped giving him their letters or the letters were sent to the wrong address and were never forwarded, they stopped being sent when they weren’t returned even in the scrawling of a five year old. The foster homes he was in and out of were neglectful and often times just abusive and because of his disease he was often labeled too much to handle and was passed on to someone else quickly. He was told why he was put into foster care by his parents when he turned sixteen. Because of his condition and childhood he became severely depressed and has issues with attachment and abandonment but hides it best he can with jokes and pranks. When he turned nineteen he was told about a program to study his disorder at Seattle Mercy Grace and moved away from his adopted parents in Cleveland, Ohio, all the way to Seattle. He has a small studio apartment paid for by his parents that’s very close to the hospital so he often walks to it when he can. Now that he’s on his own he decided this fresh start was a good time to figure out exactly what he wanted to do with his life. With his limitations it was difficult, but he settled on what he knew best. Hospital life. He enrolled in an almost completely online eighteen month program to become a medical administrative assistant and wants to work for the new hospital he’s been sent to. Personality wise, Tas is a huge flirt and a troublemaker. Since he can’t get his energy out playing sports he gets his kicks by pulling pranks and telling jokes and teasing as many people as he can. He’s smart, funny, mischievous and very charismatic. He became fluent in Spanish just to trip people up. Despite that he’s easy going, doesn’t like causing actual trouble and prefers to keep his antics at a fun, if not slightly annoying, level for everyone. When he’s alone is pretty much the only time he drops that fun easy going attitude, showing the sadness in him. He has not made any attempts to contact his half-siblings, father, or uncle despite knowing they are out there. He likes to bird watch and sketch and play video games. Physically Tas is both blessed and cursed. He has short curly blonde hair he often keeps gelled back, sky blue eyes with the whites tinged a light grayish-blue, and very pale fragile usually bruised up skin. He’s handsome despite his illness, his face is shockingly angular, with a hooked nose, high cheekbones. And he’s tall, one thing that makes him stand out from the others with his condition, standing at 6’1”. However he’s really thin weighing 140lbs with not so much muscle, can’t get too much exercise in. With his spine being curved the way it is he is cocked to the left slightly but the surgeries he had to fix it made that much less obvious. The same goes for his legs, which still bow but it can only be noticed if you’re looking for it. He’s got multiple scars from surgeries to fix fractures and breaks as well as his legs and spine. He wears mostly tank tops and t-shirts in all colors often with inappropriate sayings or images, a dark purple button up denim jacket, usually blue jeans that aren’t too tight fitting on the legs, and purple converse that match his jacket. He has a necklace that is a choker with two black leather bands and a silver feather hanging from it. He has a personalized cane that can fold up that he uses and is almost never seen without, with a silver raven’s skull as the handle and the shaft black with plumes of purple smoke painted along it. The jacket, shoes, and cane were gifts given to him by his adoptive parents when they told him he was going to be adopted by them, the necklace a gift from the staff of the hospital he’d been going to for years. Medically, he has a slightly S shaped curved spine. He does have asthma because of his chest wall being mildly deformed. Has had surgery for Basilar Invagination at around 1 year old and that is still monitored as they weren’t entirely sure it was successful. Has had full dentures since he was 4 years old. He has fractured most of the bones in his arms and legs countless times as well as his right hip and right collar bone at least once and severely broke his left leg and right arm resulting in surgeries, as well as breaking his other limbs a few times less severely and only resulting in casts, all due to being more adventurous and less careful than he should be. When he does get bigger fractures they often get infected resulting in long hospital stays while they work on getting the infection under control. He has had multiple surgeries that have gotten his spine to the okay point it’s at now and to fix his bowing legs which are barely able to be seen unless you’re looking for it. He has valvular heart disease, two of the valves are smaller than they should be, but he hasn’t had any major issues with it yet previous doctors said his case is a watch and wait. He will occasionally have seizures, one of them is what resulted in his broken arm and a small skull fracture but he hasn’t had one in about two years, his speech is slower because of a big one he had when he was 6 years old. He also has not so great hearing. It’s not so bad to the point he needs hearing aids but if you don’t get his attention first or speak loud enough when he’s not looking he won’t notice you’re talking. He is given Pamidronate every month or so, regularly takes anti-inflammatories and pain relievers, as well as smoking weed despite being told constantly not to for many reasons and does his best to hide that habit. He nearly constantly gets all manners of tests done on him so he’s got a very busy schedule.

STATUS: THIS CHARACTER IS

OPEN/TAKEN/RESERVE

[dank-hp--memes]

Soulmates: chapter 5

This is an extra extra long chapter. And thanks to @letsriottogether for helping me write this chapter.

Tags: @shit-in-silk-stocking @johnlockismyreligion @royaltydowntonandlife

---

Valery sat in his car in the hospital parking lot. How could this be happening? Surely this could not be real. There was no way Ulana was hurt. It had to be just a bad dream. Valery bit his lip and laid his head against the steering wheel, letting out an alone sob, knowing this was, unfortunately, not a dream. He swallowed his fears before turning off his car and walking inside. It was very loud and chaotic in the hospital, the groans and moans of injured and sick people, as well as the chatter of people searching for their loved ones, filled the halls. Valery attempted to ask a flustered nurse if he knew where Ulana's room was, but she was not much help. So, Valery wandered the halls, stumbling upon Ulana by accident. He saw her quickly being wheeled into an examination room. Valery stood in the hallway, dumbstruck. Was it just him, or did Ulana look much worse than she had before? There is a woman coming down the hall, a chart in her hand, her long legs carrying her quickly toward Valery as her long white coat flows behind her. She looked at him for a moment, then stopped. She glanced down at the chart before looking back up at Valery. Her hair was a deep dusty red. She squinted at him a little with her hazel eyes. "You must be her husband," she says, glancing into the room. The woman rivalled Valery in height, only a few centimetres difference between them. Valery looked at her, trying to read her expression.

Slowly, he nodded as he asked: "H-How bad is it?"

The woman slowly looked him over, seeing that he was wringing his hands and trembling a little. 

"I can't say. I'll need to see her labs. But she is not the worst I have seen tonight" she says, looking over Valery, analyzing him. She has a sharp and strong jawline and cheekbones that could cut someone if hit with enough force. Her red-painted lips part in a gentle smile. She reaches out a hand, which Valery gently takes.

"I'm Doctor Ria Wolframm, I will be taking care of your wife," she says softly, her voice comforting Valery a little.

She pauses for a moment to look at the state Valery is in.

"You'll want to sit down... this may be a long night," she says before pushing through the doors and disappearing into the examination room.

Valery watched the spot where she had disappeared, tears welling in his eyes. He longed to follow her into that room and sit beside Ulana, holding her hand. Ulana had always hated coming to the doctor. It scared her, though she would never admit it. Ulana had always feared the bad news that could come with doctors visits, ever since her mother fell sick when she was a young girl. Valery bites his bottom lip and sits down, knowing now is not the time, for the doctors must work their miracles to save his beloved wife. He stared at the pale walls of the hall. His mind racing, and at that moment he contemplated praying to some higher power to have Ulana safe. No matter how atheist Valery was, he needed some comfort that Ulana would come back to him. 

Hours seem to pass before doctor Wolframm comes out. She gently places her hand on Valery's shoulder, for he had dozed off.

"Come… your wife would benefit from your company" she says as she leans down toward Valery.

He jumps a little, her voice sending chills down his spine. Valery stands up and takes a deep breath, preparing for what he will see upon entering the room. He pushes through the door and into the room. It is now empty, except for Ulana and doctor Wolframm. Ulana is still unconscious, her head resting on the cheap hospital pillow with her singed hair splayed around her head. She is hooked up to an IV and many different monitors, that Valery glances at briefly. A small band is around her belly, monitoring the baby. Ulana has a plethora of second degree burns over her body, mostly covering her chest and left side. Most of her belly had made it out unscathed though. Wolframm gently urges Valery toward the bed. He feels his breath catch in his throat. Valery had never seen Ulana in such a state, not even in the worst of nightmares. She was the very thing that made his life worth living, and seeing her in this state made it extremely hard to breathe. He glances at the doctor, his lips parting to say something, but he cannot find the right words. Instead, he goes to Ulana's side, sitting down in a chair beside her bed. He stops as he goes to take her hand, finding it is extremely burnt. Valery thinks for a moment before gently pressing his hand to Ulana's cheek. Leaning down and kissing her forehead softly.

"I am here, Lana…" he says softly, reaching down and placing his other hand on the crest of her belly, caressing it gently with his thumb.

The doctor sits on the other side of Ulana's bed, a pair of large, thick-rimmed glasses resting on her nose as she scribbles down notes in Ulana's chart.

"Someone is certainly happy to see you" Wolframm mumbles, glancing briefly at Valery.

He gapes at her, bewildered.

"How can you…" he begins.

Wolframm simply gestures to the readings from the band wrapped around Ulana's lower belly. They are a bit higher than before and slightly closer together.

"She was having some problems with her heartbeat. It had been a bit too slow for my liking, but now?... well as you can see, you have a very strong little girl in there" Wolframm says as she records her observations on Ulana's chart.

Valery's eyes widened. It had just been a joke at first, but now he knew for sure. They were having a baby girl. He was to have a daughter. His heart seemed to swell with joy as he looked down at Ulana's belly, his eyes watering a little. He could not help but smile a little. Wolframm smiles a little before looking back at Valery, her face serious. 

"Your wife has some bones I need to set… I can come to get you once I have finished" she says softly, not wanting him to feel squeamish.

Valery, still in a bit of shock from the happy news, shakes his head. He is determined to stay at Ulana's side as long as they let him. He will not leave his girls, not anytime soon. Wolframm puts down the chart and moves over to the sink, thoroughly washing her hands and pulling on some gloves. She stands at the bedside and takes Ulana's arm in her hands. With a swift motion, she sets the badly broken bone. Valery flinches, looking at the ground. Wolframm looks down at him, knowing he had not realized how unpleasant this would be. Wolframm slowly moves down the side of the bed and takes Ulana's leg, swiftly setting one of the bones before struggling a bit with the other. Her eyes glimmered with determination, and her jaw was clenched as she focused hard on getting the breaks properly aligned.

Valery watches the motion, his eyes wide with shock, trying to push aside how much this must be hurting Ulana. Even though she is heavily sedated, uncomfortable groans escape her slightly parted lips, her forehead wrinkled as she frowns in her sleep.

Wolframm then wraps a splint around Ulana's arm before moving on to her other injuries. She is extremely meticulous, making sure not to miss anything. 

Valery sits back in his chair, taking a deep breath. His hands clenched tightly into fists, his nails digging into the flesh of his palms. He was shaking as emotion overwhelmed him. Be wished it would all be over soon, as the sight and sound were horrible, piercing through the otherwise quiet room.

Wolframm looks up at him as she wraps a splint around Ulana's leg. She doesn't say anything but her eyes seem to bore into him.

"You do not like the sound hmmm?" She says as she pulls up her chair to clean Ulana's cuts and burns.

"who would like to know what sounds the bones of a person you lovemaking?" he says, as a matter of fact, relieved that it's over.

Wolframm smiles a bit at his reply, glancing at him as she says: "some people do not like the sound, some don't like the sight… just a small observation…"

"When do you think she will wake up?" he asks, his eyes fixated on Ulana's face, wanting to change the subject.

"I am not sure... but she will in time…" Wolframm says as she sits back in her chair.

"She must have hit her head fairly hard. I am surprised she only has a concussion..." Wolframm mumbles as she looks at a lump that has formed on Ulana's head.

"I'm going to have to do some sutures, so you may want to look away" Wolframm mumbles.

Before Valery can reply, Wolframm is already

numbing a rather large cut. She begins to stitch it, being rather precise, so as not to leave much of a scar. She did not look up at Valery except for a small glance at him.

The sight of a needle piercing Ulana's delicate, porcelain skin makes Valery almost nauseous, so he looks away, tears welling in his eyes. He then remembers Mirra and Dimitri, knowing that Ulana will want to hear about them as soon as she wakes up. 

"Do you know anything about comrades Rukovskaya and Maksimov?" He says, looking over at Wolframm, cautious to keep his eyes off of the cut she is suturing. 

"I believe they are down the hall a few rooms. Though I do not know which rooms specifically... I know Rukovskaya was taken into surgery a few hours ago. Though I am not sure why... and Maksimov is being treated for his burns and concussion" Wolframm answers as she glances at Valery, pulling the needle away from Ulana's skin.

Valery sighs and nods in response, deciding it is better to stay here than wander about the hospital looking for them. 

Wolframm looks up at him, surveying him quietly, noticing the dark circles under his eyes. 

"You should try to get some rest. You will need it as much as your wife does. I will be sure to wake you if there is any news" she says, peering at Valery over her glasses.

It seems odd to rest at a time like this. With his nerves still rather high. Valery leaned forward a bit and kissed the side of Ulana's belly, nuzzling it gently with his nose and mumbling under his breath, expressing his love for her and their daughter. Sleep envelopes him rather quickly. Still, he is aware of his surroundings, hearing the voices in the corridor and the door being opened and closed again as nurses come in to check on Ulana and speak with Wolframm.

Wolframm sits quietly, scribbling down notes in Ulana's chart. She had turned out the lights in the room to help Valery sleep, now only lit by the many monitors of machines. She hums quietly, filling the silence with her sweet melody. She looks over Ulana. She is fairly lucky. With enough encouragement from the doctors and the help of medicine, she can fight the toxins she was exposed to. She did not need surgery to fix anything, unlike many others. Ulana could be considered one of the lucky ones, unlike Mirra. 

A few hours pass before Wolframm gets up to stretch. Her heels click softly on the tile floor as she gently wraps Valery in a blanket. She leaves the room, having a nurse stay and watch over them. She is gone for no more than thirty minutes before returning. Wolframm silently entered the room, thanking the nurse as she sat down, placing her untouched coffee on the floor beside her. The smell of the rich dark liquid rouses Valery. His stomach growls as he sits up. Valery looks around the room, almost having forgotten where he was and what had happened. One glance at Ulana brings it all back, flooding his mind with the memories of the previous day. He looks closely at Ulana, seeing that some colour had returned to her skin, making him feel a bit relieved. Wolframm had glanced at him and sighed. She was holding her coffee out to give it to him. 

"You need this more than I do" she mumbled, a tired smile curling her lips.

Valery gratefully took the cup of warm dark liquid. He mumbled his thanks before taking a sip of the soothing dark liquor. It brings him a bit of joy in this dark time. Valery took a moment, convincing himself to leave Ulana for just a moment to go and grab some food, and hopefully get some information on Dimitri and Mirra.

Wolframm stands up, encouraging Valery to stretch his legs while she changes Ulana's bandages. Valery looks longingly down at Ulana, studying her face, so he could remember every detail. He stretched his aching muscles before heading into the corridor. It was calm, much more peaceful than it had been only a few hours before. He looks around, hoping, deep down, to see the familiar face of either Mirra or Dimitri. Though it would be almost comical to suddenly see either of them. Valery takes a moment to clear his head. Food, he needed food. He looked around once more, finding a sign that pointed toward the cafeteria. Though he hardly remembered it, his legs swiftly carried him down the hall, his mouth-watering a bit at the very thought of food. Though hospital food was rarely ever remotely edible, Valery knew he had to eat something. Valery wandered through the rather empty halls and into the cafeteria. Valery eats alone at a table that will not stop moving, for its legs were uneven. A bowl of soup sat before him. He did not know exactly what was in it, but it was surprisingly good, for hospital food. It made him feel nice and warm. His only complaint was that the slice of bread was rather stale. Valery sighed and looked around. There were many people in the cafeteria as well. Some were alone, others gathered in small groups, but all of them were only leaving their loved ones for a moment, much like him. Doctors and nurses can be seen scurrying about the halls. Somehow, the cafeteria remains in solemn silence, only broken by the softest of whispers. Valery swiftly finishes his food, returning his tray before making his way back out to the hall. He passes Ulana's room before going to the nurse's station and inquiring about Dimitri and Mirra. They give him a room number. Mirra got out of surgery just before dawn, and Dimitri had been discharged. So, Valery wandered quietly through the halls before finally stumbling upon Mirra's room. She was still unconscious, of course. The toxin had ravished her tiny body, causing many complications. Almost the entirety of her right side was burned, including her face. The burns were not exclusively on her right side. Some stretched across her back and others over her chest and legs. Her hospital gown covered most of the sutures that held together with the opening the surgeons had made in her chest. Upon closer inspection, Valery could see that some of the burns on Mirra’s legs were from the acid that had been spilt over them.

The sound of approaching footsteps causes Valery to turn around. His lips part slightly before curling into a sombre smile. It is Dimitri. He appears to be alright besides a few burns and singed hairs. Valery gently pats Dimitris shoulder in greeting. 

“How is Mirra doing,” He says, glancing back at the bed. 

Dimitri swallows as he glances at Mirra. 

“The surgery went well, but the next 24 hours are crucial. So, she is not out of the woods yet” Dimitri says, his voice a bit shaky, “How is Ulana?”

Valery takes a deep breath as he thinks about the miserable state of his beloved. 

“She is not doing great, but they are keeping a close eye on her and the baby,” Valery says, his voice trembling a little.

Dimitri nods slowly biting his lip as his eyes filled with tears. Images of the previous night flashing in front of his eyes. 

“When I saw them, I-I did not know what had happened… Mirra was… she was covered in acid as she scrambled across the floor toward Ulana and Ulana… she was laying on the floor, it almost looked like she was t-twitching… People were screaming and the halls were filling with smoke…” Dimitris's voice quivered as he spoke, tears rolling down his cheeks. 

At first, Valery thought he wanted to know the details, but now his imagination was running wild, sending chills down his spine. Valery swallowed the knot that rose in his throat. He knew Dimitri needed to talk about his terrors, but Valery did his best to block out every word. Ulana’s horrified expression burned into his mind as he imagined her being thrown to the floor. The immense detail Dimitri used to describe the incident caused Valery to shudder.

As he finished speaking, Dimitri's words turned into sobs. Valery watched as Dimitri sat down beside Mirra's bed, putting his head in his hands. Valery gently Pat's Dimitri's shoulder and makes sure to tell him what room Ulana is in just in case he needs anything. Dimitri simply nods, looking up at Valery with his bloodshot eyes before turning his attention back to Mirra. 

Valery exited the room in silence and looked around the halls. After what he had just heard, he was not quite ready to return to Ulana's room. Just as he turns around, he sees doctor Wolframm coming down the hall. She has a fresh cup of tea in one hand and a file of labs in the other. She looks up at Valery, feeling his eyes burning into her. She smiles a little, her kind eyes appearing extremely tired. She tilted her head a little, taken aback by the devastating look plastered to Valery's face.

"I haven't been back to see her yet" he croaks, knowing he must say something, though his throat feels extremely tight.

There is a pause as Wolframm closes the distance between them, standing right in front of him. She looks much more exhausted close up.

"I-I have just heard what happened yesterday… about the accident…" Valery mumbles, his eyes wandering to the labs clutched in her hand. "I'm sorry, but are those Ulana's lab results?" He continues, gesturing to the papers. 

Wolframm nods in response, taking a sip of her tea. 

"They are. They are not exactly pleasing. Her numbers are all over the place…" she stops herself, knowing Ulana's life is hanging in the balance, but not wanting to scare Valery.

She pauses, choosing her words carefully.

"We are going to do our best to help her and keep your daughter healthy," she says, smiling tiredly at Valery.

Valery opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself, he couldn't figure out if she was just avoiding unpleasant news. He sighs and removes his glasses, rubbing his temples as he thanks the doctor before heading in the direction of Ulana's room. Wolframm continues down the hall before disappearing into a staff room to make a list of medications to be administered to Ulana. Valery swallows, ignoring the murmurs surrounding him as he pushes into Ulana's room. She is still there, just like he left her. He takes a few steps towards the bed, his eyes fixated on her burnt arm, then it hits him. Her wedding ring is missing. He glances frantically at her other hand, remembering how she had thrown it at him during their argument. It seemed so foolish now, to have argued over his safety. How would she feel if it was him, laying, unconscious, in a hospital bed? He remembers what she had said that morning just before throwing the ring at him 'If anyone here is stupid it is you… Have a good time sleeping alone' At that moment, he had not bothered to pick the ring up off the floor, nor to search for it, so he did not know exactly where the little golden ring had landed. He had been too angry and hurt that she had attacked him. She did not understand that he was to be a part of something huge, a historic turn of events for mankind. Now, all of that seemed so foolish, and it made her words sting even more. Would that be the last thing she said to him? He could not help but wonder if he would be bringing her home in a wheelchair or in a casket. It hurt more than he imagined it could, seeing his strong and independent woman laying there, without the ring that he had used to proclaim her his. His chest felt extremely empty, as though his heart had been pulverized. Valery thought back to the day of their wedding. He could picture how she had waltzed down the aisle, her confident strides carrying her quickly toward him. A confident smile had been plastered to her face. She was the picture of genuine happiness, thrilled to start their journey as husband and wife as they vowed their lives to one another. She had worn the most beautiful dress. It was unlike any other on the market, and he had no idea where she had gotten it. It had been just as white as the sheets that covered her now. 

Valery holds back a sob, feeling his legs become weak and his throat tighten. This was what had become of his beautiful and perfect bride. The love of his life laid before him, like nothing more than a corpse. He thinks back to their vows, to what they had promised each other, and what he had promised her. Tears welled in his eyes as he realized he had failed her. Valery sits down at her side, overtaken by sobs. Valery sobs softly, tears rolling down his cheeks as he looked at his brilliant wife. Ulana had to pull through, she was the strongest and most stubborn person he knew. Somehow, Valery managed to calm himself down enough to stop sobbing. He tried desperately to remember some old prayers his grandmother would say, but too much time had passed, and he paid far too little attention anyway. So, he sat awkwardly as silence engulfed the room. All he wanted was for Ulana to open her eyes and say something, say anything. He would do anything to hear her voice once more, even if she screamed at him. Knowing he could do nothing was killing him and making him feel hopeless. 

Ulana did not open her eyes that day, nor any of the following days. At some point, the hospital staff forced Valery to go home. Valery reluctantly listened and went without a fight. He needed to shower and shave. He could hardly remember the last time he shaved, for it had been the morning of the accident. Valery looked like nothing more than a shell of his former self.

The silence in their apartment is practically suffocating. Only now does Valery notice all the small noises that he had become so accustomed too? Ulana talking to herself, her belly, or Sasha. Quiet music that came from the radio she had turned on. Her humming as she looked over papers. The absence of all of these noises made the apartment seem empty and lifeless. Now, it was just Valery and his thoughts. Sasha brushing up against Valery's legs brought him back to reality. He had asked their neighbour to look in on her while he stayed at the hospital. Valery looked around the desolate apartment as the door closed behind him. He made his way through the apartment, heading to their bedroom. His throat tightened as he looked at their bed. Ulana's side of the bed was still unmade from that morning. The blanket was kicked to the end of the bed and her pillow was tossed aside, from when she had thrown it at him. He wandered around it, not daring to get any closer to the bed.

He made his way over to Ulana's table instead. It resembled a vanity. It served as a place for her to put on makeup, make notes, and do basically anything. One of her dresses was tossed on the back of her chair. Valery gingerly lifted up the soft red dress and pressed it to his cheek. Tears formed in his eyes as her sweet scent drifted from the dress into his nose. Valery looked down at the bed, his eyes wandering over the blanket Ulana always slept with, and the nightgown she favoured that laid on the floor beside it. Then, something sparkling caught his eye. It was Ulana's wedding ring. Valery practically pounced on the tiny ring, his eyes wide, still clutching her dress. He was almost afraid the small ring would run away. Valery could not help but smile as he held up her ring. It looked so small in his hand, and, compared to his ring, it was small. Just then, Valery made a promise to himself, that when she wakes up - not if, when - he would place it back on her finger where it belongs. Maybe he would even get down on one knee and ask her to marry him all over again. Valery laughed a little as he walked over to his bedside table, he still had the box for her ring. He stored the ring safely in the box before pocketing it. Valery then proceeded to fold up Ulana's blanket and her nightgown, packing them in a small bag along with some fresh clothes, a comb, and other things she used daily. Valery wants to make sure she has everything she needs when she wakes up. He knows there will be a long recovery ahead for Ulana, so Valery makes a mental note to make sure she rests, even if he has to tie her to their bed. Valery takes a moment to make sure he has packed all of Ulana's things neatly before heading into their bathroom. His eyes widened as he looked in the mirror, he looked nothing like himself. Valery appeared dirty and unshaven, his eyes were sunken in and dark from lack of sleep. The few times he had come home, he had been unable to sleep in their bed. Without her, his life was empty.

After his shower, Valery laid down on the sofa with Sasha, who splayed herself over his chest. It was as if she could sense that Valery needed her to watch over him while Ulana was gone. Sasha could practically tell that something was wrong, she knew it was strange that Ulana had not returned, and Sasha missed the cuddles and belly rubs she always received from Ulana. Valery smiled solemnly as he cuddled Sasha, nuzzling his nose against her fur. He found comfort in Sasha. She was the support he needed in this dark time. She had wise eyes, and Valery often wondered what she would say if she could speak. Valery gently scratched behind her ears, staring up at the ceiling. He would always rest for a bit after returning home from the hospital or work before returning to Ulana's bedside. Valery looked around the empty apartment, it was now early morning and he was contemplating returning to the hospital. He had to try his luck. 

Doctor Wolframm had offered to have another bed put in Ulana's room for Valery, for she felt deep empathy for him. She knew what it was like to have the person you love in the hospital. There was also something nothing Valery. Ulana's test results. They had not been great, or so the doctor's said, but he had expected her to be awake by now. What Valery did not know about was the toxins Ulana had been exposed to as a result of the accident. The doctors had worked quickly to save Ulana, practically pumping her full of meds to keep her stable. The baby had struggled a little as well, but not as much as Ulana, for her body had to nurture the small life that resided within her. Valery would always freak out a little if he did not feel a movement from the baby for a long time, but their baby girl would always give a small lick when he pressed his hand to Ulana's belly to let her father know she is alright. She was a fighter, just like her mother. 

When Valery returned to the hospital, he found that a spare bed had been set up in Ulana's room. As he looked around the room he realized Wolframm had dozed off after checking Ulana's readings. She had been the one person who was able to help him in the darkest of moments. Wolframm always did everything in her power to help Ulana, and Valery trusted her deeply. Seeing her dozing off at Ulana's bedside, knowing they must have seen him like that countless times, made Valery laugh out loud for the first time in days. Wolframm opened ed her eyes drowsily as she looked up at Valery. She was probably the only person in the whole hospital who had gotten less sleep than Valery. She stood up and pulled out her stethoscope.

"I know you sleep with your head on her chest… I was wondering if you would like to get a clearer listen to her heart…" she says, softly, beckoning him over.

Valery's heart lurched and the words got caught in his throat, so he simply nodded at her. He always enjoyed cuddling Ulana and listening to her heart beating. The thought of experiencing Ulana's heartbeat through a stethoscope excited him. Valery watched in anticipation as Wolframm found the best position for the stethoscope. This is the first time Valery has gotten a good look at her. She must have been a few years older than him, for she appeared young, but her hair had begun to grey and there were a few wrinkles set deep in her face. Suddenly, she was handing him the earbuds, holding the stethoscope in place for him. Valery took a deep breath as he placed the ends in his ears. He feels his stomach lurch as breath hitches in his throat. Tears well in his eyes and a smile spread across his face. He had never heard her heartbeat so loud and clear before. He could not help but chuckle happily. Wolframm smiles up at him and gently places her hand on his shoulder. 

"I cannot promise anything… but you may be able to listen to your daughter's heartbeat as well" She says softly, not wanting to excite him too much. Valery looks at her, dumbstruck. He is unsure whether she is teasing him or being serious. This was something he couldn't even begin to imagine. He handed the stethoscope back and watched as Wolframm meticulously moved the stethoscope around Ulana's belly. It took a while, but she eventually found the heartbeat. Valery had managed to help, his gently caressing of Ulana's belly coaxing the little one to cooperate. Wolframm once again turned the earbuds over to Valery. His heart jumps when he places the earbuds in his ears. He can hear his little girl's heartbeat, even though she hasn't been born yet. Valery sat there, his hand on Ulana's belly, listening to his daughter's heartbeat. He could not stop smiling, for the joy that he felt was indescribable. 

Wolframm had picked up her chart and was recording some of the readings. She glanced at Valery and smiled at his reaction, her eyes glimmering a bit. 

"You've got quite the little fighter in there," she says as she sets the chart back down.

"She definitely has Ulana's spirit…" Valery says as he looks up at Ulana's face.

"I think she gets it from both of you," Wolframm says as she looks at the machines once more. 

She then stands up and stretches a little.

"If you'd prefer, I can have that bed moved beside your wife's so you can lay with her," Wolframm says as she pushes some type of medicine through Ulana's IV.

Valery pauses for a moment, taking in her words. He had desperately missed laying beside Ulana.

"I-I would love that. Thank you" Valery says softly, his lips curling into a slight smile. 

"But you must know, that if we need to move quickly, we will have to push it back" Wolframm states.

She disappears into the hall before Valery can reply. Valery is unable to contain his tired smile. He could finally be able to rest beside Ulana again. 

A few moments later, a nurse comes in and helps Wolframm move the bed so that it is pressed right up against Ulana's. They quickly adjust some of the equipment before the nurse leaves. Wolframm gently urges Valery to lay beside her. 

"I believe your wife would benefit from some cuddling" 

Valery thanks her, looking at the bed. He is hesitant to lay down while she is still there, so he waits for Wolframm to gather her charts and leave. He gingerly sits down on the bed before laying down. He looks over at Ulana, almost afraid to touch her. Slowly, Valery moves closer to her body, until he is pressed up against her. He had missed the heat she seems to radiate and the sensation of her soft figure against his. Valery leans down and presses his nose against the top of her head. His heart seems to melt as her scent drifts into his nose. She still smells faintly of orchids beneath the smell of hospital soap. Gently, he begins to caress her silky hair.

"Oh god, you have no idea how much I miss you…" he whispers, tears welling in his eyes. "Please, sweetheart… I need you to wake up for me, Lana" 

As if on command, a slight groan escapes Ulana's slightly parted lips. The sound seemed to fill the room. It was the first peep she had made since entering the hospital. Valery looks down at her, his eyes wide with shock. He began thinking he was delusional from lack of sleep, but it happened again. Another, slightly louder, groan escaped Ulana's lips. That little groan was the most beautiful sound Valery had heard in days. He caresses her belly gently, hoping to get a response. 

Valery stares in shock as Ulana's eyes open slightly, she blinks a few times, looking up at him with her beautiful blue irises. She groans again, for her whole body aches. Ulana cannot help but smile a little at the stunned look on Valery's face.

"What? Did you come to apologize to me?" She teases, her voice extremely weak and raspy. 

Valery leans down and presses his lips to Ulana's, reaching over and sliding her wedding ring back onto her finger where it belongs. 

"You didn't have to almost get killed to make me say I am sorry," Valery says as tears roll down his cheeks. 

"Noted…" Ulana mumbles, but don't make me laugh, it hurts too much"

Valery smiles a little before kissing her again. He gently brushes a few stray hairs off of his face. He then got up and pulled the blanket he had brought from home out of the bag he had packed. She smiled at him as he gently placed it over her. Ulana always slept with that blanket, and Valery knew how much she loved it. He then laid back down and cuddled her, telling her how much he loved her as he traced his finger gently over her belly in soft swirly patterns. It did not take long for Valery to fall asleep, cuddling Ulana, his nose pressed into the crook of her neck. At that moment, he knew everything would be alright.

[feel199x]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚apple of my eye ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ VII

I   II  III  IV  V  VI  VII VIII IX X  masterlist

gang!au, gang member!han jisung, band!au, florist!reader

a/n: this chapter is written from a different perspective again;;; also seven chapters but the series is almost coming to a close!

warnings: blood and gun mention, cussing, angst but fluff if u squint hard enough

                              ┍━━━━━━━✿━━━━━━━┑

Minho was the first person Jisung had called, Minho was always the first person Jisung would call. Jisung was bleeding pretty badly, gripping his thigh as he sat behind a counter. He couldn’t go to the hospital, not with everything he thought he had done- so he just sat there, waiting for Minho. Jisung cried because he couldn’t do anything but wait, there was nothing else he was capable of doing. He couldn’t take care of himself, so he waited for Minho. And because he was waiting for Minho, there was nothing he could do to help you- so, he had to wait. Jisung was never good at waiting, patience was not something he was fond of. If he wanted to do something, to understand something- to be good at something, he needed that to happen urgently. Because of that, he tended to drop habits quickly, before he could really tell if he was truly good or bad at something. He only really learned patience after you, watching and observing you. You didn’t complain when he was gone, never scolded him for having other responsibilities. Even after having the only things you really cared about taken away, you didn’t rush to have the construction finished or the insurance to pay you back. Jisung was crying harder now, wiping away his tears with bloody hands as the record continued to play. He didn’t want it to keep playing, but he also didn’t have the heart to stop it.

Minho had arrived as soon as he could, running red lights and avoiding as many cops as he could. Jisung’s eyes were getting heavy as Minho put him in the back of the group’s car.

“How the fuck did this happen?”

“I don’t know, it was probably N/S.”

“Oh fuck, you don’t actually think-?”

“Where’s ___?”

Jisung could barely keep track of the conversation and who was speaking, but when he heard your name, he sputtered out a weak answer.

“He took them.”

Jisung couldn’t make sense of the loud conversation after that, just trying to focus on staying awake until they reached the hide-out.

 “Jisung, this is Chan, okay? I’m going to clean the wound and take the bullet it out. It’s going to hurt.”

“Woojin, get the cloth ready. Minho, keep him quiet until we get to the hide out.”

Chan was cutting the fabric of Jisung’s pant leg to find the wound. It was only a slight graze, and the wound wasn’t very deep. Still, Jisung was bleeding with more blood than they could manage. “He’s bleeding too much, I don’t know if he’ll make it-”

“Letting him die is not a fucking option!”

“Here, okay- let’s calm down- Chan, I’ll stop the bleeding, just get the tweezers ready.”

The song from the record was still playing in Jisung’s head as he weakly hummed along. He wasn’t making sense of what happened, he didn’t want to make sense of what was happening. He just missed you. He wanted to hold your hand, feel it’s softness in his and he wanted to peck your lips- he wanted to do so much more than time allowed him. Jisung was still crying, soft tears streaming down the sides of his face and he could feel it pool in the creases of his ears.

“Fuck, there’s someone following us- Chan hurry up before they-!”

“You wanna come down here an-”

“Shit!”

Jisung wanted to sing, he wanted to rap, and he wanted to dance. How could all of these things be taken away from him? Why were the only things that mattered slipping away from his hands? He worked so hard to get here, he got restless whenever he couldn’t finish a lyric or nail a dance move. He wouldn’t stop until he perfected them, because really, that’s the only thing he did have patience for- the only thing he would practice until all his bones turned to dust.

“Felix, Seugmin, pop your head out the window and sh-.”

“Are you insane?”

“Just do it!”

“Hyunjin, step on it- lose them.”

Jisung’s eyes were getting heavier by the second, drifting in an out of consciousness. It felt like he was in a dream state, he couldn’t even feel the pain from his thigh anymore. It felt okay like everything was okay because none of it seemed real anyway.

“Jisung, please, please stay awake, okay? You have so much to live through, stay awak-”

“I can’t lose them, they’re right on our ass.”

“Felix-!”

“Kinda hard to shoot their tires when we’re going a hundred and fifty miles per fucking hour!”

Someone squeezed his hand, but Jisung’s eyes were already drooping. At the very least, Jisung was before he felt a shooting pain go up his thigh, pain like he had never experienced before- not even the last time he was shot. So, he screamed.

“Minho-.”

“On it. Sorry, Jisung.”

Jisung went to pull off the hand on his mouth, muffling his screams. But his body couldn’t take the stress, going limp from everything that had gone down in less than half an hour.

“Jisung? Jisung-!”

---

It had only been a week later when Jisung had finally woken up. Minho hadn’t left Jisung’s side, everyone lingering around the bed and room. They only really left to make something to eat, but returned to the bedroom when they were finished, refusing to leave Jisung out of their usual activities. Minho kept checking Jisung’s pulse nearly every hour, to comfort himself with the slow but significant beating pulse of Jisung’s arm. Everyone was scared out of their minds, even if they wouldn’t say it out loud. Somehow, this situation seemed a lot worse than the previous time. Chan hadn’t known anything about medicine then, and it was only by a miracle that they were able to take out the bullet. But that wasn’t the only problem. Eventually, the group had to leave, they had to face the music. Tension only seemed to grow thicker the longer they isolated themselves out of society, and they all had responsibilities that unfortunately, couldn’t be abandoned.

“I think that maybe we could negotiate with him, right?”

“He shot Jisung, he wanted to kill him. And plus, are you forgetting about ___? Who’s going to report them as missing persons?”

“Minho’s right, Chan. Maybe this is out of our hands.”

Both of the boys looked back at Woojin, impatience and displease in their eyes. “We won’t be able to make music if we’re all in jail. Plus, we,” Minho gestured to everyone in the room, “haven’t killed anybody or even attempted to.”

“Right, we can stop selling- that’s what we’ll tell them.”

“What about ___?” Jisung asked quietly, voice emerging from the bed. Everyone in the room rushed to his bedside, clambering on to sit beside or around him. “We can talk about that later,” Jeongin spoke, “Are you okay?” Mutters of agreement flooded the room, a variety of ‘are you okay’s and ‘how are you feeling?’ was asked without breaks, overlapping one another as they spoke.

“How long have I been out?” Jisung asked, “Did you find ___?”

“A week,” Minho answered calmly, “and no. Not yet, the guy went rogue. We’re working on a negotiation.”

The room went quiet as everyone watched for Jisung’s reaction.

“I’m sorry,” his voice didn’t waver, firm like never before, “for making a mess, for putting you all through this.”

“Hey,” Chan patted Jisung’s back, “it’s not your fault. We’re all at fault here.”

Jisung moved to get up, ignoring the throbbing pain from his thigh. “You need to take your time,” Minho said sharply, “If you push yourself before you’re ready, you’re just going to fall apart. Who are you going to help them.”

“Love you too, Minho.”

“Then stay in bed, and we’ll get you some food.”

 But Jisung was unnerved, as much as he wanted to focus on himself and pace himself to be in his best condition to come and help you- you were all he could think about. Even as he ate, light, distracting conversation filling the room, the record’s song still floated through his memory. He could still feel his head resting against your chest as you stroked his hair. He wish he could have prepared, done something to have prevented the situation.

But there was nothing he could’ve done, nothing indeed.

Minho knew that Jisung would be beating himself up. When Jisung was younger, everytime something bad happened- he would cry and cry. After he found the dead baby bird, he insisted on giving it a proper burial in a special place in the playground. The boys begrudgingly joined, not wanting Jisung to mourn the death all alone. Even after they had made a special box and a stone grave, even after they dug a shallow hole and buried it, Jisung lingered around the tree. He insisted that he was okay, just making sure that no one would dig the baby bird back up. But no one commented when they saw him wipe silent childish tears off his cheeks when they all had to go back to class. Jisung got rejected, and often. But instead of feeling bitterness towards the person, or trying to pursue them again- he beat himself up. He was a hopeless romantic, teddy bear inside and out- believing he would meet ‘the one’ soon. But that didn’t make the rejection hurt less, because, in his mind, something had to be wrong with him in order for him to get rejected all these times.

“Minho, what if my soulmate rejects me?”

“Then they’re not your soulmate, Jisung. Anyone who rejects you isn’t worth your time.”

Jisung knew that what Minho was saying had some truth to it, but at the time he just couldn’t see himself fall in love. Not because he had sworn off of it, but he was just so busy these days, breathing, eating, and sleeping music. It felt like his youth was slipping through the cracks of his fingers like sands of times. And he loved it, he did. It was his dream to be successful in music, and he was, they were. Even if their start was less than graceful, they didn’t even need the drug bribe to convince people to come listen to their music anymore, people were genuinely interested in their music. So, the thought of love was eventually pushed into the depths of his mind,

Until he entered your flower shop.

He was just picking up flowers for his grandmother, he didn’t expect anything special to happen. The truth was, he was slacking off on visiting his grandmother- so his parents called him, urging to pay her a visit. The first thing his grandmother did was make him go on a bunch of errands, with the promises of good food if he had gotten everything done without getting distracted. And what was a better motivator than food? Only love.

He had expected to see an elderly lady like his grandmother running the shop, but instead, he saw you putting flowers into a vase, and his first reaction was to hide behind a pot of flowers. But the windchimes at the door betrayed him, and you had called out to him, asking if he needed any help. Jisung believed in love at first sight, and this? This was love at first sight.

“Jisung!” Minho snapped Jisung out of his thoughts, “We don’t have time, you need to follow me.”

“Minho-?”

“Jisung, we don’t have time!”

There was nothing he could’ve done to prepare, nothing indeed.

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