#keep doctors and nurses alive

[deadpogasm]

every morning i eat a spoonful of sugar bc im anemic but too depressed to go outside and get my iron filled but i figure it works well enough to keep me from passing out

[dawnwriterimagines]

Innocents among you

Part Two to TRAITORS AMONG US

SIMON RILEY X FEM!READER TASK FORCE 141 X FEM!READER

Summary: Your torture is over, but is it really? There is only the torment in your mind now. The nightmares, the flashbacks, the flowers at your hospital bed and the tormentors awaiting the relief of your forgiveness.

Part 3!!

Part 4

If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?

---

You flatlined twice, almost as soon as you were handed off to the medics.

Committing themselves to doing CPR before bringing in the defibrillator for an electric charge to your sudden cardiac arrest. "Clear!" They restarted your heart just outside the hallway of your cell, Simon held back by Price as your heart stopped again within the same minute and panic ensued. Johnny and Kyle hearing the news, rushing up towards the hall, their footsteps probably the echo that you held onto as your heart rate picked back up.

Clearly, you lived.

You didn't have the luxury of going comatose immediately after. As you would've preferred.

You'd awoken hours after the medical team carried you off to the infirmary. Still on edge, still plagued by discomfort and cold, despite the lights of the recovery facility and the nurses that paraded around you.

Morphine wears off in about 6 hours, so you were up wailing in agony within the same time. Clearly no one expected you up so soon, but you hadn't slept in days, at least not more than an hour. Jerking up involuntarily, hands all over you to keep you down and steady, you could hear a familiar doctor's attempt to calm you down. But, the blistering pain that radiated from every pore in your body was ringing so loud, a present noise that blocked everything out.

So, at first, you'd been terrified, attempting to clutch onto the first thing you'd woken up to. But, you couldn't move, at least not voluntarily.

With the damage to your spine for countless hours, days, and what you had discovered to be two fucking weeks of endless torture, you'd undergone three difference corrective surgeries that would 'possibly' fix the nerve and circulatory damage done to you. It had left you nearly completely immobile since your admission into the infirmary. The doctors were quite astonished that you were even alive...

The nurses were patient enough with your panicked state to slowly ease you out of your stupor. But, at times it wasn't easy, especially when you didn't even know where you were at first. Since you couldn't see...

You were blind for about four days. Everything a tinted red for a few more after you'd regained your sight.

Fevers plagued you for the week, skin that was raw and inflamed from the severe cold and constant dousing from the pipes, you couldn't move if you wanted to.

The first thing you'd been graced to see were the multiple arrangements of flowers, lilies, white tulips, hydrangeas, roses...typical assortments of regret and remorse.

"Can someone throw these away?" had been your first words.

The nurse who had been checking over your vitals looks over at the flowers, the were all over the desk, even on the floor lining the windows, once they ran out of space to put them. It was beautiful. But, she knew why. Everyone knew why. You were quite famous here in the infirmary, as you were in special unit. "Of course."

They were out within the day. The room bare once more.

And then you saw them outside your infirmary window. Just a glimpse. Around the time you were still getting your sight back.

Seeing them for the first time since everything made bile build up in your throat, a screaming fear that created a pulsing headache.

Kyle, Johnny, Price and...you didn't see Simon.

Price was...a statue. Not moving an inch. His hand against his mouth, covering up the aching distress anyone could see on his face.

Kyle was pacing, back and forth and back and forth. Making an offhanded comment at one of them every few seconds.

But, Johnny was talking, pointing spitefully at someone out of your view.

He was there too then. Simon.

Turning away from the window, you couldn't look at them anymore.

"Don't let them in," you breathe out to your doctor as she sets down a trayed mug on your sliding table as she sits you up to drink a hot cup of tea, which you had requested. "Any of them. Please." You were still so cold, you couldn't imagine dealing with any type of cold weather for a while after dealing with this.

She's confused a moment, before turning to the doorway, where she recalled seeing the four men waiting outside in the hallway. She's seen them just sitting there for days now, they wouldn't beg or argue to come in, they'd just wait. It's not like you were cleared for visitors yet anyway.

Every morning she clocked in for the job, there they were. Sitting there like abandoned children, awaiting the moment the door would open to be welcomed inside.

It was like they never left.

Of course she knew who they were to you. Word spreads fast on the base. Especially for a Task Force as 'famous' as they were around here.

Squeezing your shoulder, comfortingly. Feeling protective, your doctor spoke, "Of course," she slides the mug forward a bit, taking the teaspoon to stir once and lift it to toward your lips to sip. "Blow," she guided.

You did. And sipped.

And it was warmer than any blanket they'd wrapped you in.

---

Prior to being able to trudge around on your own, with the help of a crutch you'd been given to go to the bathroom by yourself finally, the nurses had sponged you down in bed. Your spinal surgeries led to you being at risk if they made efforts to remove you from your bed for anything more than a medical emergency.

Mostly, because you're terrified of the showerhead....and it's pathetic, but no one judges you for it as you opt for a sponge bath every time instead. Even if you're shaking as the water slides down your skin even now. The last thing you needed on top of all this was to develop aquaphobia.

Today was the first day you could do it on you own, limping your way to the bathroom with your crutch. The smell of bleach is much stronger in here, it stings your nose.

You stared at the metal stool left tucked at the side, walking around it as if it would pounce up and attack you, you try not to look at it. You'd been doing well without panic attacks for a few days now, just hold it together.

Taking a breath, you reach out to the handle for the spout, glancing up at the showerhead, before back down. Swallowing thickly when you begin to turn it before pausing, hearing the water rush up the pipe to spill out. Turning it back up just as quickly, shutting off the pipe, you inhale deeply, trembling now, hand up to the chilled tile to steady yourself.

You'll try again, you had to.

Drip...

Drip...

Unable to help yourself, the sudden rush of paranoia that runs through you is terrible, a hoarse cry leaves you. You shove yourself away from the shower stall, back ramming into the doorframe, catching yourself, and away from the showerhead as the water drips, slowly from the faucet.

Drip...

Drip...

As panic tightened its grip around your chest, your breaths quickly turned to short, sharp gasps. The room spinning, colors blurring into a dizzying whirlwind. You turn swiftly, nearly knocking yourself off your feet as the thudding of your own heart startles you, you can hear it in your ears, in your hands, in your feet.

You press a trembling hand to your chest, clawing over the area, trying to slow the frantic pace of your breathing, but it only seemed to escalate. The small room narrowing to a black hole of fear and suffocation, every gasp began to disorient you, turning lightheaded.

As tears welled in your eyes, you collapse against the side wall, sliding down to the tiled floor. Slamming your palm against your chest, once, twice, as hot tears leave streaks down your bruised face, you beg your lungs to expand and wait for your breathing to regulate.

Beginning to sob uncontrollably as you hit yourself in the chest again and again and again, waiting for the moment you found yourself able to breathe.

Why did this have to happen?

You remember the violent swing of the baton against your face, the sting it leaves afterwards, the immediate spotting of bruises forming. The memory startles you, receding back into yourself, back to that day.

"It wasn't me..." you cried loudly, in the empty room. It echoes against the tiles.

Simon wrapping his hands around your neck, staring you down as he squeezed, maliciously. You couldn't breathe as your lover shook with the strength he uses to hold himself back from taking your life.

"I'm sorry," you hiccupped. "I'm--I'm sorry," you're not sure when you crawled yourself into the corner, the lights of the bathroom flickering off dimly from your lack of movement. As you're drowned in darkness, the water dripping from the spout, the cold tile against your skin, it's too much. You scramble upwards, running out of the bathroom.

The automatic lights flicker back on inside, but you're too in your head to notice.

Stumbling down to your knees as you feel the rip of a ruined stitching tearing along your side. "Ah!" comes your startled cry. Making it to the side of your hospital bed, you fist your hand through your sheets, unable to stand yourself up.

Taking pained breaths against the sterile sheets, you bury your head in them, cursing whatever luck you thought you had in this life.

They were your family...

All you had for so many years...

As your breathing slows to distraught, agonized huffs of air, sniffling to yourself as you catch sight of your face in the metal frame of your hospital bed. The dark purple bruises beneath your eyes as the swelling gradually went down, the still bloodshot left eye of yours, the twelve stitches on the left side of your face. So gruesome you knew it would scar you for life, a permanent reminder on your fucking face.

Anger bubbled up inside you at the sight of it. At the memory that would always follow when you'd look at it.

Anger that you hadn't been able to properly feel until now.

Anger that you feared to have until today.

"Are you alright?" the sound of his voice makes you visible tense.

Simon.

He's here.

You don't turn to face him, if you did, you'd revert back to the person you were cowering into moments ago. "The door was open...I just--" he pauses, swallowing thickly. "Lemme help you up."

Hearing his footsteps suddenly moving closer, you speak fast. "STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!" you scream over your shoulder, tucking yourself further away from him. "Do NOT move."

He stops in his tracks. You catch the sight of him in the metal framing of the bed, he's a blur in the metal, but you notice his mask is gone, he's Simon Riley now, not Ghost as he appeared to you in the interrogation cell.

"Don't you dare get any closer," you spat.

"I heard you," he spoke, carefully. Mouth opening and closing, before speaking again. "But, you don't have to be stubborn. If you stay there any longer you could tear your stitches."

"Whose fault is that?"

Simon shifts his stance on his feet, waits a second. "I know. And I can never begin to tell you how sorry I am for what I did. What we all did to you," he says, quietly. "The intel we discovered...or that was forged, it came from a source we've used a dozen times, (Y/n), we thought it was true. It had to be. We've never been misled before."

"So..." your nails bite into your skin, you make an amused sound, biting down on your lip for a moment, till it hurt. " That's what you came here to say, huh? What you waited days to--. Is this you justifying--"

"No, (y/n), that's not--"

"--why you tortured me, strangled me, stripped me, in that fucking cell, Simon?"

"We had to believe it, at the time..."

"Was I not a trusted source?" you argued. "Had I not proven more than a thousand times that you could trust me? I've fought next to you, laid in your bed, given you my love, my trust, I--" you shook with rage at the time and energy wasted on time family, this relationship, if the end goal was always meant to just be this.. "I thought that was at least half the reason you decided to marry me..." at the mention of your relationship, you could see the way Simon nearly lost his balance, hands coming up to run along his face. "You told me you would kill me in that room..."

"I was just talking, I wouldn't have--" his voice cracks as he whispers, trying to convince.

"When you left, I thought you'd come back to kill me any minute, or Price, to spare you. I waited to die for two days, terrified out of my mind. I wondered about heaven, not if I'd make it... but what it'd be like, what I'd be missing out on," you thought back to your time in that cell, a haunted expression Simon couldn't see. "While you all got a good nights rest, woke up for some bacon and eggs, and listened to the warden tell you that your prisoner was framed...for a crime you'd already punished her for..." you stuttered on your breathing, tears flowing silently.

Simon inhales deeply. "I could never expect you to forgive me. I-I had taken my hurt out on you, I thought you did it, I was so sure. I couldn't hear what you were saying, I just could see the evidence, and I--I'm sorry. I'm sorry, love. I'm truly--" he gets to his knees behind you.

"Get up."

"I can never tell you how sorry I am---"

"Simon."

"I never should've done this to you. If I could ever--" his voice rising with distressed breaths, you didn't have to look at him to see his face a mess of sorrow, tears that would mix into the stubble on his face.

"Simon!"

"--make it up to you. If you could ever find it in your to forgive me, (y/n). I'll spend the rest of my life--" he gets closer, reaching out.

Whipping around, stiffening completely as you feel the graze of his fingers across your skin, "DON'T TOUCH ME!" you shove your back against your bedding, your hand swinging and flying across his face. His head snapping to the side as he pauses, freezing up where he kneels, having completely forgotten your request to stay put. "What's the matter with you! Even now? Even now, you can't just listen to this one thing?!"

"I-I'm sorry..." He looks at you, finally seeing your face clearly and up close since it all happened. Finally he can see the bruises along your face, the blood that fills your eye, the dark bruise still around your neck.

Seeing him. He looks rough. Honestly, he looks terrible. His hair shaggy and falling over his eye. Dark circles with bags under them. Pale, and thinner than he should be.

His jaw clenches with guilt and he averts his eyes, you continue. "How could I forgive you for this?" you stare at him, "I could forgive you, if you hadn't let them chain me up like an animal. If you hadn't watched them drown me for hours, beat me black and blue and left me screaming for days. I could forgive you if you had just believed me even for a moment." you feign thoughtfulness. "How about you look at my face. My wrists. My legs! MY FUCKING SPINE, SIMON!"

"Nothing I can say or do, will ever make any of it ok, I know that. And I can't ask for you to ever forgive--"

"What could I possible owe you in this life, that makes you think I'd even think about forgiving any of you for the things you did to me?" you gritted out, angrily.

Simon's head drops, a slow, shuttering sigh leaves him. "I'll never stop trying to make this right. Never."

"...Get out, Simon."

"I'm sorry."

"Simon."

"I'm so sorry..." he reaches out again.

"Ghost."

He's silent this time, fingers tensing, out in mid air.

"I never wanna see you again."

"I love you, (Y/n)," he confessed, eyes feral and wide. Pulling at the ends of your slip.

"I don't want to hear that, Ghost," kicking away from him. "Stop it."

"I couldn't stop even as it happened--"

"Shut up. And get out," shaking as you sneered at his desperate attempts. "It's over, Ghost."

"And I took it on you. It hurt so much, I couldn't think," Simon's face twisted with agony and remorse. "I'm sorry!"

He was making you lose your goddamn mind, you broke. "GET THE FUCK OUT!" screaming at one another as overwhelming tears escaped your eyes.

---

It's quiet in your hospital room, it's empty now, the door closed this time.

The door knob turns and opens again a moment later. "Oh no, Ms. (L/n)!" luckily it was your assigned nurse, who takes your arm and fixes it around her shoulder before helping haul yourself up to your feet. "What're you doing on the floor? There's a call button for a reason," she scolds as you sit on the edge of your bed.

You're quiet.

Alarmingly so for your nurse, who notices the pulled stitching that creates a line of blood down your side. "If this is about what happened to you..." the nurse started, speaking carefully, pulling a lining of gauze from the side to press to your skin. You don't even wince at the pressure, even when she begins to clean and replace the broken stitch. "Don't let it break you. Not even further than this experience already has..." she says, while through the last stitch and prepping a bandage.

"I've been broken long before this," you whispered, looking towards the afternoon sun shining through your window. "This. This didn't break me, no," you admitted, before glancing up with glossy eyes, rage hidden beneath a profound look of sadness. "It destroyed me."

Her hand pauses at your side, your words startling, turning to see the tear that slips down your cheek. Knowing now how deep your scars were from this, before gently sliding the last of the bandage across your skin. "Do not think you are irreparable. That time can't heal your wounds."

"But, there's always reminders," touching the stitches on your cheek, "some things can't be forgiven."

"I never said to forgive..." the nurse interjected. "If you could, after all this, you're stronger than any woman that could be named."

You snicker at that, humming soundly. "That's an interesting thought. I guess I'm one of the weaker ones then."

"And yet, still the strongest I've ever met," she finishes. Pats your cheek, "click the button next time. Save us both the heart attack."

"Noted," you assured.

As she's prepping to leave for her rounds, you open your mouth, once, twice, before clearing it. "Is it possible, someone could help me out--the water..."

"Of course," the nurse says, quickly. "Don't worry, I understand. I'll get everything set for you."

As she walks away, you breathing out your appreciation, you take a long inhale, swallowing down the heaviness in your chest.

part 3 OUT NOW!!

Tag List:

@m3ntally-unstable @dreamsarenicer @ttsbaby01 @theweirdgeninistuff @shelbycillian @azxulaa @kthehoeforfictionalmen @amusling @v1x3n @nobodycanknoww @thesinsoflust @asexualbuthorny @poisonedsultana @blackhawkfanatic @character---obsessed @yunggoblin @teenagellamaangel @hanniebanggi @nym-phos @gastonlover9000 @lyssa-211 @doodle-cat16 @haven-1307 @kneelforloki @delphiakira @just-going-through-the-motions

[crippled-peeper]

thank you medical technology for giving me a dad that’s still alive and for prolonging his life and for prolonging MY life and for all the times I’ve never caught a disease I’m vaccinated for and all the times doctors had to cut me open to fix my insides and I was able to sleep through it thank you anesthesiologists thank you surgeons thank you physical therapists thank you nurses thank you nurse practitioners thank you surgery technicians thank you neurologists thank you cardiologists thank you gastroenterologists thank you ENT doctors thank you OB/GYNs thank you midwifes thank you scientists who discover and synthesize new medicines thank you engineers designing prosthetics and insulin pumps and metal implants thank you janitors for keeping our hospital rooms and hallways clean and safe thank you phlebotomists thank you laboratory workers thank you pharmacists for filling our meds THANK YOU MODERN MEDICINE FOR MY LIFE AND FOR MY FAMILY AND MY FUTURE

[ek-ranjhaan]

She has not just been raped and murdered, she was very much tortured and brutalized like Nirbhaya. It is all over the Bengali news. I don't understand why no one is talking about this.

A 2nd year Respiratory Medicine in a well known government medical college in Kolkata, West Bengal, India is found in a semi-naked state and the college/ hospital called it a suicide.

I'm a MBBS student in second year. After reading about her, what crossed my mind is the amount of times she would have felt this fear, before this worst fear of hers eventually materialized.

"A young resident doctor was found dead in the seminar room of her medical college in Kolkata. Initial autopsy report suggests possible rape and murder."

As all are saying,

She wasn't walking the street at odd hours. She wasn't wearing clothes that were provocative. She wasn't loitering in dangerous neighbourhoods.

She was a resident doctor, looking for a place to rest in her own hospital.

She had been on duty and had gone to rest in the early hours of Friday.

The one place which was supposed to guarantee her safety failed her, miserably.

Someone comes, rapes a female pg who is merely resting in a seminar hall because there is no proper place for her to rest, brutalized her and kills her. How did NO one know? The college and police initially call it a suicide. Excuse me? It is also being said that under pressure from local politicians, the Principal and Dean attempted to alter the post-mortem report. Autopsy confirms sexual assault.

What are the actions taken? One man arrested because his behavior seemed "shady". This is clearly not an act of one man. And this was a very well aware of and a well executed criminal act.

Also, all this happening in WB right when the situation of bangladesh is in turmoil and news of Bangladeshi Hindus being killed and tortured, seems wrong, VERY WRONG. Happening right before NEET-PG, as 24 lakh doctors prepare to write an exam on Sunday to be resident doctors, this news has wrapped us all in agony and rage,

What are they working so hard for? Why should they aspire to be in a system that ignores their basic needs? The minimum requirement of a workplace is safety. That should be non-negotiable.

This profession demands extereme hardwork, a lot of mental strength and Physical Assaults, harassment, low paying jobs with odd working hours with intense humiliation. Now its the worst of all seeing a bright mind losing her life in the most disrespectful state of all. This should never happen to any woman.

I'd also like to question why isn't any big media house covering this news, where are all the international news channels all this time.

What are the students in other medical colleges doing? This talks about their own safety and lives. What are the medical students across the world doing? It's time for us to stand for the most basic Human right, safety.

Yesterday when my roommate, an MBBS final year intern was heading for her night posting, I feared and prayed for her to come back safely. Thinking about it, in a few years I will also have night posting, I'll also return from my hospital duties late at night. I'll also have to go through the same fear, and I'll also have to keep praying that my worst fears don't turn into reality. So many female doctors, nursing staffs, other Healthcare workers, other working women, non-working women go through the same fear, probably multiple times a day.

It is a shame to be born in such a disgusting world and society, it is shame to witness such a brutal crime, and it is a shame to live in this fear daily.

Those RAPISTS need to be hunged infront of the whole natio...if needed burned alive. People should fear the idea of raping, more than getting raped.

[nopanamaman]

What's up with the Reizners (Kolya & Nikita)?

Better late than never: the loredump on Nikita and Kolya Reizner is finally here!

If you read my blog, you may already know some of this information. But it's always nice to have things organised.

So let's talk about them.

Childhood

Nikita and Kolya as kids.

Nikita and Kolya grew up in a small countryside town, with Nikita being older by three years. Their mother was a nurse, their father a factory worker.

Nikita was always positioned as an example for Kolya: he was the smarter one, the one that knew how to get along with people, the one that could stand up for himself. Kolya, on the other hand, was absent-minded, meek, and showed little interest in communicating with others.

This made him an easy target for bullying. Sometimes Nikita tried to ignore it, sometimes he stood up for him. Kolya would have preferred if he stuck to the former - having his brother defend and then scold him for not being assertive enough was more degrading than being picked on.

University

Kolya always enjoyed tinkering with electronics, so he went for an electrician degree. He wasn’t an exceptional student, but he enjoyed it significantly more than school. People didn’t bother him nearly as much.

Nikita enrolled in the biology department of a pedagogical university. He worked hard to get rid of his countryside accent and blend in with the more “educated” crowd.

He joined the admission committee after his first year, which is how he met Nadya: she was applying to the philology department of the university. Their relationship began shortly after.

Joining the stalker business

Kolya wanted an escape from society more than anything. And the anomalous Zone outside the city called to him, insistently so.

It was a time when the border was significantly less tight, when big stalker groups were still prevalent, but already on their way out. He met Victor Kazarin in one such group. The latter was still a young stalker, with only a couple of years behind his belt.

Still, under his guidance, Kolya’s abilities developed incredibly fast - he was a total natural. And it wasn't just his sharp talent, it was the way he walked the Zone, the way he loved it with all of his heart.

Experiencing a sense of freedom and levity isn't uncommon for stalkers. But to Kolya it went far beyond that. To him, it felt more real than anything else in the world, it was the only place that felt truly alive.

When Nikita found out about Kolya’s side gig, he was mortified. How could his slow, empty-headed brother survive in those conditions? How could he ever navigate that dark criminal business? He had to keep an eye on him.

After realising he cannot talk Kolya out of it, Nikita joined the same group. He never developed a strong sense for the Zone’s anomalies, but his biological knowledge paid off in a major way. Despite not having a medical degree, he knew more than enough to take on the rare doctor role.

After finding somewhere he finally felt complete, Kolya was once again treated as a clueless, incompetent child.

When the big group was showing signs of deterioration, Victor offered the brothers and several other stalkers to leave and form a smaller, more tightly-knit team. His connections from working in the militia (local police) created a solid basis for finding potential clients and covering things up.

Nikita's arrest

Maybe somebody snitched, maybe Kolya’s behaviour raised suspicion among his day job coworkers - whatever the reason, his house was searched and numerous artefacts were found.

But what would someone as soft and careless as him do in prison? Somebody as naive and weak could never last there, Nikita thought.

So he did what he had to: acted like the artefacts found in the younger brother’s apartment were his and then aggressively resisted arrest - just for good measure. Hell, maybe he would have managed to get away.

But he didn’t. As opposed to other stalkers having their scars bestowed by the Zone, the one on his neck was the result of a police confrontation. Nikita did not expect them to open fire when he ran. He was surprised he lived at all - the bullet grazed uncomfortably close to the carotid artery. He lucked out.

Kolya had never felt that insulted. He tried to come clean about being the real culprit. But Nikita knew how to be convincing; Kolya didn't. And Kolya felt no gratitude. 

Breakup with Nadya

The breakup in the Mill.

Nikita was given 4 years in prison, but got parole after serving just 2. He immediately returned to helping injured stalkers.

Nadya waited for him through all his prison years. Considering how their relationship was going, some part of Nikita secretly hoped she wouldn't. She was a very self-conscious person, one that was infatuated with someone who seemed so much more confident than her. To the point where she felt like without his guidance, she’d be completely lost, and useless, and stupid.

Nikita both liked it and didn’t. Who wouldn’t enjoy a beautiful girl obsessing over them? But dealing with all of that baggage was inconvenient, it was tiring. Was it even worth it? Sometimes he wasn’t sure.

Still, things looked sweet on his release. Everyone, Kolya included, seemed glad to have him back.

Then, several months later, Nadya announced she was pregnant.

Nikita didn't want a child, especially not one that would have an almost guaranteed mutation. He proposed an abortion, but the woman refused. His reasoning that she usually took as gospel did not work. And no matter how much Nadya cried or pleaded with him, no matter how much she tried to convince him it would be okay, Nikita refused to take that burden upon himself. 

There was no easy compromise. He left.

Kolya didn't have much of an opinion about Nadya. He didn't have much of an opinion about most people. And really, he didn't feel particularly bad for her.

However, hearing about what had happened made him repulsed in a quite satisfying way. The brother that always knew best, the brother that was so condescendingly self-sacrificing, had finally levelled himself with the rest of the earth's scum.

Months later Nikita would seek out the maternity hospital Nadya gave birth in. He wasn't registered as the father - he could not access any information about her. He couldn't contact her himself either.

Her acquaintances refused to talk with him. But eventually, one of them caved.

Nadya was pregnant with twins. Died while giving birth. The offspring was transferred directly to the institute. And that was it.

Raising Sergei and Sasha

It was a dumb death. A misstep. Kolya wasn’t sure what he felt when he saw Victor’s body turn to mush. It was so instant and so simple. Natural. Kolya’s breath halted, but just momentarily.

They had a plan prepared long in advance in case something like this would come to pass. Sending Sasha and Sergei to the orphanage was not an option, everyone had been well aware of the state of those systems. Instead, Victor Kazarin would live on, if only on paper.

They held a funeral of sorts: to onlookers, it was just an uncharacteristically big visit to the grave of Maria Kazarina. That was where Kolya informed Sergei about the plan. Him and Nikita would help raise the siblings until Sergei turned 18 and could become his sister’s legal guardian. Of course, they’d help him afterwards as well.

Kolya and Nikita raising Sergei and Sasha.

Sasha was fascinating to Kolya in a “child of the Zone” way, but he wasn’t very interested in her on a personal level. To her, he was the strange spaced out uncle that had cool electronics around the house and took pictures of her and Sergei. He also played the guitar like her dad used to.

Kolya and Sergei had a lot more to talk about. Kolya’s calm demeanour helped Sergei feel more at ease despite the terrible circumstances. Even with his ditzy nature, Kolya provided a certain sense of security and comfort. Kolya always considered Sergei a good kid, though he did believe his treatment of Sasha was too overbearing, especially considering his own relationship with Nikita.

The latter, on the other hand, was much closer to the girl. She liked to play with Nikita even before her father’s death, so the adoptive uncle role came to him naturally. Sasha grew very attached to him, especially since he was significantly easier to talk to than Sergei. Nikita, in turn, was happy to have Sasha around.

The Grinder incident

The group heading out to the mission in the Mill.

Beyond the Grinder lies the wishing room. At least, that’s what they say. It’s a rumour impossible to confirm or disprove. Can you really pass the whole stretch of the tunnel before your legs, your arms, your face, your whole body disintegrates? You don’t know. Do you want to find out? Probably not.

The natural human instinct for survival can only be superseded by total desperation – or apathy in equal measure. Did Kolya have enough of any? Neither Sergei, nor Olya knew. They didn’t know why he had to enter the Grinder, either. Was that what he had wanted from the start? When was “the start”? Maybe it didn’t matter.

They could not follow him. And that alone was good.  

[rorylovesangst]

A Burning Hill

construction worker/underground fighter simon riley x waitress

mood board

song of the chapter is How To Disappear Completely by Radiohead

tws: death of a parent, suicidal ideation, abuse/harassment, self inflicted burn (sh), trauma

chapter 1 -> next chapter

word count: 1.2k

Even when you were nestled in your mother's warm belly, coddled by her own blood and flesh, you could tell you were a burden. A miracle, the doctors said when you were born. Your mother's heart stopped beating for 4 minutes while in labor—vital to a fetus and its host. The miracle was the baby bathed in blood and mucus, not the lifeless mother, puckered and pearl.

You didn’t cry when you were born, too occupied trying to get your walnut-sized heart to betray you, set you free of the hell you’d just begun.

You were never a child who cried for attention. Instead, you swallowed your sounds, held your breath, and watched the world through the lens of someone who wasn’t meant to stay. The hole in the shape of a woman you never met was always there, a mark left in the silence—a picture on the wood-paneled wall. Belly swollen, smile wide. No stories to tell, no lullabies, no warmth from the one person who was supposed to make you feel like you belonged.

Instead, it was just the quiet hum of a broken home, where nothing was ever whole enough to be considered sound.

The nurses said you were a fighter, wrapped in white cotton and a pink cap. You survived the nightmare. You were strong.

But strength doesn’t mean survival, does it? It just means you keep waking up. And waking up—day after day—feels more like a punishment.

You spilled coffee down your shirt today. It seared into your skin and left it hot and freckled. Ronny coughed a whiskey-smelling bark into your face when you stammered into the kitchen with water in your eyes and a half-empty coffee pot trembling in your hand. You felt the pull, the familiar flicker in your neck—small but sharp, like a wire snapping in your spine. It tugged your head to the side before you could stop it. Ronny’s face twisted, his lip curling around the cigarette as though your body’s rebellion were some kind of offense. You watched through blurred vision as he slapped a damp rag against your chest and snarled Clean yourself up, bitch through his cigarette before brushing past you, too close to be accidental. You keep your eyes on the streaked linoleum and mutter an apology.

“Blue, honey,” Olive gasped through the doorway, rushing in and plucking the pot from your shaking hand as though it might shatter, “Are you alright?”

You nodded, shallowing back shards of glass. If you tried to speak, you knew it would come out warbly and wet. The buzz radiated under the damp rag like it wanted to remind you it was there, that you were here. Alive, maybe. Existing, at least.

She steered you into the employee bathroom, the fluorescent light hissing overhead like an unwelcome witness. Perched on the cold, cracked toilet seat, you felt her fingers hastily unbuttoning the top four pins of your blouse. When she saw the angry red blooming across your collarbone and down to your breasts, she winced as if the burn had somehow reached out and burned her too.

Twenty-five minutes and half a roll of gauze later, you were back on your heels, tray in hand, weaving through the diner like a ghost. Grease clung in the air, mixing with the sting of antiseptic rising from your skin. You didn’t glance at Ronny as you passed, but the weight of his eyes was enough of a reminder that he was there.

By 11, the diner was mostly empty, its silence broken only by the occasional clatter of a spoon against porcelain. Three regulars slouched over the bar like wilted plants, nursing their coffees and bacon, while two new faces lingered in the shadows of the back corner.

Olive had clocked out at 8, leaving the newcomers to your care. Their eyes snapped to the bandages the moment you approached, their stares like tiny spotlights burning through your sticky skin.

You tugged at the puppet strings of your face, drawing your lips into a smile that felt brittle enough to crack. “Hi. What can I get for you guys?”

Their dirtied hands moved in unison, flipping through the laminated menus with a sound like shuffling paper. Both men hummed, low and indecisive, until the one with the prickly, dark mohawk spoke first.

“I’ll tek ah ham n’ cheese toastie, and some orange juice, bonnie,” he chirped, his voice thick with a Scottish accent, coarse as gravel. His crooked smile curled like a frayed ribbon across his chapped lips, his eyes lingering on your bandages for a beat too long before snapping back to the menu.

“And I’ll jus’ ‘ave a cuppa, light an’ sweet,” the blond huffed in a British accent, his dirt-covered palms sliding the menus across the counter.

“Those will be right out for you,” you say with a small smile before retreating to the back to put in their orders.

Rain taps a steady rhythm on the metal roof as you wait for Tony, the cook, to finish. Glancing out the window, you watch the downpour drench the empty lot. The walk home is going to suck. Of course, you don’t even have an umbrella.

The food bell rings and you're quickly balancing a plate in one hand and their drinks in another. The toastie sizzled on the plate as you slid it in front of the mohawk man—Johnny, you decided, based on the stitched patch on his jacket. The mug landed gently in front of the blond, whose tag says Riley. His eyes flickered up at you as if weighing something, but he said nothing. Johnny didn’t bother hiding his stare.

“Yer chest,” he started, jerking his chin toward the gauze peeking from your blouse. “Looks nasty. Burn?”

Your hand hovered on the edge of the table, fingers tightening around the curve like it might anchor you. For a moment, the words sat heavily on your tongue, like pills you were too afraid to swallow.

“Just an accident,” you muttered, the smile on your lips wilting at the edges.

“That so?” Johnny leaned back, his yellow construction jacket creaking as he shifted. His accent softened, as though he was testing the weight of your lie. “Guess this place gets rougher than it looks, eh?”

You huff out a laugh that makes your sternum stutter like a kindergartner on the first day of school.

Riley—the blond—stirred sugar into his coffee with slow, deliberate motions. His gaze is like a dagger, the blade barely nicking your skin. Johnny’s stare doesn't let go either. He’s waiting for more, expecting more—like it’s not enough. You can feel the tick of the words in your neck, the way they press against your skin like a bruise.

Before you can stop it, you feel the familiar flicker—a twitch, a sharp pull that catches your breath. Your head jerks sideways, and you hear the strange, strangled sound of a laugh—an involuntary, sharp noise escaping you, even though it isn’t funny. You want to shove it back down and swallow it back inside you, but it’s out there, splintered in the air between you.

Riley doesn’t seem surprised. His eyes flicker between you and Johnny, an unreadable expression passing over his face. You know he’s noticed. They both have.

But then the tension, thick and bruising, is broken by the shuffle of feet behind you as another customer slides into a booth. You feel the burn of their stares fade just as quickly as it came, but the heat in your cheeks doesn’t fade. Still, your hands shake as you back away, your smile a brittle thing you have to patch together before you disappear back into the shadows of the diner, pleading for Tony to hand them the check.

[arc-misadventures]

A Hero's Rewards?

"Beep... Beep... Beep..."

Jaune recognized that sound.

"Beep... Beep... Beep..."

The monotonous tone of a heart rate monitor.

Well that was a good thing to hear; It meant that, Jaune wasn't dead.

"Beep... Beep... Beep..."

But, it was bad news nonetheless.

"Beep... Beep... Beep..."

Jaune hated that damn beeping sound!

Jaune pushed the nuisance aside... He was alive, and he was awake. Now he needed to get up. He didn't want to stay 'asleep' on this bed, seemingly dead to the world. He wasn't buried yet!

~~~

Jaune opened his eyes, they felt heavy. He licked his fingers as he cleaned the gunk from his eyes. He blinked his eyes before shaking his head, banishing the weariness away.

Jaune looked at his left arm, noticing the, IV in it. Looking upward to see a the IV bag, and the infernal heartrate monitor beeping along. Jaune pressed a button on the side gurney, raising his bed upward from the waist, putting him in a more comfortable, sitting position.

Jaune turned his neck from side to side, letting out a pleasured groan as he heard a series satisfying clicks from his neck, letting the tension in his body fade away.

Jaune turned to the side, and looked at more of the buttons on the panel next to him, and pressed the, 'help' button, and waited.

He looked around his room, as he waited for the doctor, or a nurse, whoever it was that would come. Jaune noticed that he was in a small room; there was no windows, so he expected he was probably kept in the room in the medical wing in, Atlas Academy. To keep him safe no doubt due to his rank as a, Specialists.

The time on the clock read: 13:29 hundred hours. Jaune now knew the time he was, but now the question was: What day was it?

~~~

The door opened, and Jaune saw a man with silver streaks in his hair wearing a white coat, and deep blue scrubs enter the room, and behind him a woman with with warm brown hair in light blue scrubs also came in. The man looked at him, and his rather blank expression opened into a wide smile as he approached him.

: Mr. Arc, my name is, Dr. Dusan, and this here is, Nurse Haizea.

Haizea: Hello, Mr. Arc.

Jaune: Hello.

Dr. Dusan: I must say I am most happy to see that you are awake. We were quite worried you would take a while to wake up because of the poison in your veins. If you had been injected by that scorpion faunas's poison when you were in a more relaxed state of minf, and body, you would have been relatively fine. However, because you're adrenaline was spiked from the fight, the poison managed to circulate through your blood stream faster than we would have liked.

Jaune: Was I in any risk of dying?

Dr. Dusan: No, you weren't in any risk. Luckily, you were brought here to the, Atlas Academy medical wing quite quickly, so we managed to administer you some antivenom rather quickly. Not to mention your impressive aura reserves help heal the puncture wound, and slow down the poison as well.

Jaune: My aura fought off the poison?

Dr. Dusan: To an extent: You're aura managed to slow down the poison, buying you time. But, a persons aura is not capable of curing poisons once they've entered your blood stream.

Jaune: Ahh, that makes sense: Aura is more of a barrier ones applies to ones self after all.

Jaune reached up with his left arm, and scratched the back of his head. This was an action that made him pause, and look at his shoulder.

Jaune: I was stabbed in my left shoulder... shouldn't my arm be in a sling, or something?

Dr. Dusan: Normally yes, but by the time you arrived the wound in you shoulder was already closing because of you aura. Hell, I reckon there's not even a scar on you by now.

Jaune pulled down the neck of his medical gown to look at his shoulder, looking for a puncture wound.

Jaune: I'll be damned... there isn't one...?

Dr. Dusan: The marvelous of, Aura.

Dr. Dusan smiled as he walked over to, Jaune, while, Nurse Hiazea pulled a cart with even more instruments on it.

Dr. Dusan: Now that we have you awake we'd like to run several tests, just to make sure you're doing alright. Any questions?

Jaune: Only two: How long was I out, and when can I get out?

Dr. Dusan laughed as he grabbed a light, and shinned it into his eyes.

Dr. Dusan: Well, you've been out for a day, and a half

Jaune: A day, and a half?! Damn... His poison did a number on me...

Dr. Dursan: Well, that was just your body telling you it needed time to recover. Alright, watch my finger, Mr. Arc.

Jaune kept his eyes on the doctors finger as he ran through several more tests before he made a happy grunt as he walked away from, Jaune.

Dr. Dursan: You're looking quite healthy, Mr. Arc. You should be able to leave sometime tomorrow. We're just going to keep you here overnight just in case. In the meantime... Nurse Haizea?

Haizea: Yes, Doctor?

Dr. Dursan: Can you take a blood sample? I think it's best we make sure to check, and see if all the poison is out of his system.

Haizea: I'll take it to the lab as soon as I take a sample, Doctor.

Dr. Dursan: Thank you. Well then, call us if you need us, Mr. Arc.

Jaune: Will do doctor.

Dr. Dursan waved goodbye as, Nurse Haizea pushed a stool over, and her cart, and sat down putting on some gloves before placing a rubber band around his arm.

Jaune: Uhh... Nurse Haizea?

Haizea: Haizea is just fine.

Jaune: Okay. Haizea, did... did anyone come to see me while I was out?

Haizea: Oh, yes! The entirety of the, Specialist team came to check on you, several times actually.

Jaune: Really?

Haizea: Oh yes! I even saw, General Ironwood come by to check up on you with, Specialist Winter Schnee!

Jaune: Really? W-Was there anyone else...?

Haizea: Mmmm... Oh! I heard, Robyn Hill came by to check up on you as well. That was a surprise.

Jaune: Well that's a surprise... Anyone else?

Haizea: Mmm... Nope. That's everyone.

Jaune: I see...

Haizea was about to break open a needle, but stopped as she heard his disappointed tone.

Haizea: Was there... Was there someone you were hoping to see?

Jaune: ...

Jaune: No... No I wasn't...

~~~

Clover: Jaune! You're awake!

Jaune stopped lookin at his scroll as he saw, Clover, and the rest of the, Specialist's members enter his room.

Jaune: Hi, Clover, hey guys. What brings you here?

Marrow: Here to check out on you, Mr. Hero!

Jaune: Hero? I don't think killing someone, even a monster like, Tyrian makes me a hero.

Elm: True, but he's talking about how you saved, Robyn Hill.

Marrow: Yeah! You came in like a knight in shining armour, and saved the poor damsel in distress!

Jaune just stared at, Marrow as he seemingly swayed side to side with a goofy grin on his face.

Jaune: Is he... Is he drunk?

Elm: A little... We were at the officers club celebrating your victory when we got the call that you were awake.

Jaune: And, how many did he drink?

Vine: One.

Harriet: Man's a total light weight.

Jaune: Evidently.

The group shared a small laugh at, Marrow's poor expense.

Jaune: So... did I miss anything when I blacked out?

Clover: Not much. After we got your emergency call, we rushed to get there, but you already killed, Tyrian. But, you were poisoned so we called for a medevac to get you here. After that, it was nothing, but a simple clean up job.

Vine: We secured the area, and allowed the medical staff to take his body away.

Elm: A few of them got hurt by touching his poison by accident. But, why was his tail a prosthetic?

Jaune: Ahh... I met him in the southern parts of, Mistral a year ago. When he was there, Ruby Rose cut off his tail. Somehow he got a prosthetic tail, we should check in on that. Someone was skilled enough in bio-mechanics to make him a stinger. It's only a question of what else they could do.

Clover: Hmm... Yeah we better take a look into that.

Vine: His scroll is being hacked as we talk. Once that is done, we'll get plenty of information to find out who made it.

Jaune: We can only hope so...

~~~

Ironwood: Ahh, Mr. Arc it's nice to see you doing so well.

Jaune: General?!

Jaune was in the midst of his meal as he pushed his tray on a table to his side, whipping his mouth of any crumps left there. The General walked into his room, pulling a chair next to, Jaune's bed as, Penny pulled up behind him.

Ironwood: At ease, Mr. Arc.

Jaune rested in his gurney as he the general took a seat next to him.

Ironwood: How are you feeling, Mr. Arc?

Jaune: I'm feeling fine, Sir. A little restless honestly.

Ironwood: Ha, I understand that... I always felt restless whenever I was stuck in a hospital too. Now then... About you killing, Tyrian Callows... Tell me what happened.

Jaune had assumed that this wasn't a social call, but that he wanted to hear a report on how, Jaune dealt with, Tyrian Callows.

Jaune: I was on the walls of, Mantle, inspecting how the construction of the fortifications were coming along.

Ironwood: And, how are they coming along?

Jaune: Certain sections of the wall are ahead of schedule, while others are just on schedule. I hypothesize that if we place the ones who finish ahead of schedule on the other sections of the wall, we could be finished the whole wall by at least a week at the earliest. Allowing the, Engineer Corp to resume work on your, Secret Project.

Ironwood: My, 'secret project?'

Jaune gave, Ironwood a confused look as he gave him one in turn. The pair shared a confused look for a moment before a sudden realization dawned on, Jaune's face.

Jaune: Ahh yes... I refer the, CCTS Project as, 'Ironwoods Secret Project,' or anything else that sounds similar to that. I've been doing that so no one knows what we are up to. I've ordered the various, Engineer Corp officers to refer to it as such to keep it a secret.

Ironwood: Ahh... Clever. I should have made a note of that to my other officers myself. Well done, Specialist Arc. Now, please continue.

Jaune: Thank you, Sir. While I was reading a report on progress of section, Gamma 7, I noticed a dip in the work during one day. Apparently, members of, Robyn Hill's supporters came to the wall, and caused a disruption.

Ironwood: What did they do?

Jaune: They just pestered the workers, demanding to know why it took you so long to order the reconstruction of the wall.

Ironwood: Because we were busy with the, CCTS Amity Project.

Jaune: I know that, Sir, and you know that. But, they, everyone else cannot know about it. My run in with, Tyrian Callows was an example enough of why it needs to be kept secret. Who knows what could have happened if, Salem learns of it before it is completed. Sir, we must keep a tight lip about it.

Jaune had started to become suspicious about, General Ironwood's attitude when it came to the, CCTS Amity Project. As he feared, and as he had warned others, General Ironwood had become obsessed about the completion of it. And, Jaune knew he had an itchy trigger finger, and someone needs to take his gun away from him before he started shooting.

Ironwood, stared at, Jaune until he leaned back in his seat as he nodded his head in a reluctant agreement.

Ironwood: You're right, we need to keep a tight lid on this... Continue, Specialist Arc.

Jaune: Yes, Sir. After I learned this, I learned about a rally, Robyn Hill was holding, so I decided to go there, and make sure nothing happened. While I was there I was accosted by, Robyn Hill, and she demanded to know why I was there.

Jaune: I explained that I was there to keep the peace. That I didn't want to hear about another incident like the one that happened at the wall the other day. She was the one who told me why her supporters were there. She also made it evident that it was her supporters that that dispersed the crowd, and sent them home. Besides being put slightly behind schedule because of their delay, no other incident has occurred.

Jaune was telling the truth, is was a bit of a lie since it didn't happen in that order, but it did happen. Ironwood seemingly bought it, as he nodded his head for him to continue.

Jaune: As I said, I decided to stay at her rally to keep a close eye on things to make sure nothing happened. And, while, Robyn was giving her speech, I saw a suspicious individual making there way towards the stage. He had a similar profile of a person I've seen before. So, I made my way to cut them off, and when I got in front of them...

Ironwood: You found, Tyrian Callows.

Jaune: I found, Tyrian Callows. Yes, Sir.

Ironwood: Qrow informed me of your interaction with him in, Mistral. He told me his niece, Ruby Rose cut off his stinger.

Jaune: Part of it yes.

Ironwood: And, someone replaced his stinger with a biomechanical tail... One strong enough to pierce your armour plating... We must look into this; Only a few people in all of, Atlas are capable of building biomechanical limbs... but, to make a scorpions stinger...? This a most disturbing development.

Jaune: I agree whole heartedly, Sir. An investigation must be launched into, Tyrians prosthetic stinger, at once.

Ironwood: And, it will be done. Penny?

Penny: Yes, General Ironwood?

Ironwood: Send a word to the engineer division, and your father. Tell them to start investigating that prosthetic tail, at once.

Penny: At once, Sir!

Penny saluted the, General as she seemed to send a message using her internal components to her father, and Engineer Corp. Jaune didn't like this unknown factor; Atlas was a city of technology, and science, and if Salem had a capable enough individual to make a prosthetic tail for a scorpion faunas, then what else were they capable of?

Jaune: After I intercepted him, we engaged in combat; I was stalling for time so the civilians could escape. Luckily they started running the moment I drew my blade, and tried to kill him. While we were fighting I saw him break away from me, and attack, Robyn Hill.

Ironwood: So, Robyn Hill was his intended target then.

Jaune: It would appear so. While, Tyrian was fighting, Robyn. I noticed his hand was glowing this dark purple, and, Robyn's side was glowing a faint lilac. I realized that it was, Robyn's aura, and Tyrian's semblance was to make holes in peoples aura so he could land a fatal blow.

Ironwood: You noticed all of that with just a single glance?

Jaune: I'm a analytical strategist, Sir. I often have to make, and notice several things within the space of a single breath.

Ironwood: I see, continue.

Jaune: Well, to keep him away from her I threw my sword at him. I know it was a dumb thing to do, but I needed to make him keep his distance from her. But, at the cost of making this opening, he jumped me, pinned me to the ground, and stabbed me with his stinger.

Jaune: I remember crying out in pain as the poison in his stinger made my shoulder burn. But, after that, ho got off of me, and tackled, Robyn hill to the ground, and he was about to kill her. We he did that, I suddenly got a massive surge of energy, probably by an adrenaline rush. But, I rushed over, grabbed, Tyrian from behind, and I...

Jaune: And, I snapped his neck...

Ironwood: And, what happened after you killed, Tyrian.

Jaune: I... I don't remember last thing I remember is throwing, Tyrian's body to the side, I think I said something... and, then... nothing...

Ironwood: Well, based on the report we got from, Robyn Hill, she said you fainted shortly after killing him.

Jaune: From the poison no doubt.

Ironwood nodded his head as he made to stand, putting the chair back in it's place.

Ironwood: Well, your account correlates with what, Robyn Hill said. Well, then... Did you get all of that, Penny?

Penny: Yes, sir! I have already uploaded this conversation to the central computer.

Ironwood: Good, very good. Well, we have much to talk about later about this incident, but for now; Rest, and heal up.

Jaune: Will do sir.

Ironwood: I will see you later, Mr. Arc.

Jaune: Sir.

Penny: See you later, Jaune!

Jaune: Bye, Penny.

Jaune waved goodbye to, Penny who left with a wide smile on her face. But, as the door closed, he knew she would be the only one of them who would come to see him. The rest, wouldn't know, nor care.

~~~

Winter: H-Hey, Jaune...

Jaune's focus on the video on his scroll was cut short as he saw, Winter Schnee poke her head through the door to his room.

Jaune: Winter? Please, please come in.

Winter: T-Thank you...

Jaune was a little confused; He could see a faint blush on, Winter's face, he'd seen, Winter blush before, and he thought she looked absolutely adorable when she was blushing. But, was she acting shy, and nervous towards him, or was there something else that was causing her to blush?

Jaune: Are...? Are you okay? You seem nervous.

Winter: Is there a problem with that?

Jaune: Kinda... I've always seen you as someone with complete control over your emotions. To see you nervous about something is just... weird...

Winter: Ahh well... I...

Winter walked over to his bed, and took a seat at the end as she nervously brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Winter: Are you okay... Jaune?

Jaune gave, Winter a cautionary once over; her nervousness was infectious. But, the blush across her face was most certainly quite captivating to gaze upon.

Jaune: I'm okay. A little drossy, but otherwise I'm fine.

Winter: But, you got stabbed by, Tyrian's stinger! You got injected with his poison! And, you're just fine?!

Jaune: I am. I activated my semblance when he stabbed me, I super charged it so it slowed down the poison, and close the wound. See, there's not even a scar...?!

As a testament to her skills as a, Huntresses, Winter moved closer to him, without him even noticing her move, and grabbed his face within her hands.

Winter: Jaune... This is serious! You got stabbed, you were poisoned, you could have died! Why are you not taking this serious?!

Jaune: Winter...

Jaune: I know I got stabbed, and that I was poisoned. I remember the burning sensation in my shoulder when the poison flooded my views. I remember the fear filling my soul as I thought I would die by that physco's hands. But, I refused to die there, and I refused to let that thing be the one that ends my life! So, I'm sorry if it seems like I'm making light of what happened to me, Winter. But, I'm a, Huntsman... It is my duty to fight, and if needs be die for the innocent. Be that civilians, my fellow, Specialist, or you, Winter.

Jaune looked into, Winter's eyes as tears started to fall down her angelic face.

Winter: Y-You would die for me...?

Jaune: No... I would live for you, Winter.

Jaune thought it was a cheesy line, but it was the truth, he would die to protect her, but he knew that would make her sad. And, after seeing, Winter cry for the first time, and he didn't want to see those tears fall down her face once again.

But, as, Jaune thought of this he noticed the smile spread across her face. He was about to comment about her smile, but the unexpected happened.

Winter pulled his face to hers, and kissed him. Jaune could feel her warm lips clash with his own. It was a kiss of passion, desire, and warmth. A kiss someone who had been holding it in gave their lover. And, as their kiss broke, they were left gasping for air.

Jaune looked at her radiant face, a smile that radiated the nights sky with it's radiance. Her eyes, sparkled with starlight as she lovingly stared at him. And, the blush that exploded across her face was oh so cute.

Winter: Oh, I?! I-I-I?! U-U-Uhhhh?!

Jaune: Winter...? Are you...

Winter: Oh what is that? General Ironwood is calling for me! I gotta go! Bye, Jaune.

Within the blink of the eye, Winter was gone. Leaving, Jaune behind in a dazed, and confused state. As he tried to gather his thoughts he came to a simple question.

What's with all the woman in his life grabbing him by the face, and kissing him? He wasn't that dense anymore, right...?

~~~

"Nock, nock nock."

Jaune: Hmm? Come in.

: Hi, Jaune.

Jaune R-Robyn?! W-What are you doing here?

Jaune was enjoying his supper, relatively; it was hospital food after all, nothing to write home about. Jaune didn't expect to have visitors during supper, much less, Robyn Hill. Jaune whipped his mouth with a napkin, and placed the tray on the table to his right.

Robyn: Why am I here? Oh, well... I'm here to check up on my savior.

Jaune: Savior? Oh come on, I was just doing my job, no need to look at me like that.

Robyn: Oh, why not...? Can't a girl see the literal white knight who saved her from a vile monster as her savior~?

Robyn started walking towards, Jaune's bed. A noticeable sway was to be found in her hips, and the lint of a sultry tone in her voice.

Jaune: Uhh...? I wear white armour... I'm a knight... I did save a girl from a vile monster...

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Okay, you can call me your savior, but not like... Not like that...

Robyn: Oh come on, Jaune...

Robyn then slid on his bed, her butt resting against his hip.

Robyn: Can't a girl have her fun?

Jaune: That depends, are you being serious with me, or is that a mask I'm looking at?

Robyn's warm smile faltered before a weary smile took it's place. She looked away from him as he hand found his, and tightly grasped it.

Robyn: Jaune... Who... who was that person...?

Jaune: ...

Jaune looked at her before he looked away, his mind searching for an answer that she would find satisfactory, whilst keeping things secret.

Jaune: His name was, Tyrian Callows. A psychotic scorpion faunas who wanted you dead.

Robyn: But, why?

Jaune: Your death, Robyn... it would sow division, and chaos between the people of, Mantle, and Atlas.

Robyn: But... who would want me dead?

Jaune: I can't tell you that.

Robyn: W-Why not?!

Jaune: I can't tell you.

Robyn: Why won't you?

Jaune: I can't tell you, Robyn.

Robyn: Why won't you tell me?!

Robyn grabbed him by his shirt's collar, screaming at his face all the while she was crying.

Jaune looked at, Robyn's face, watching at the tears fell down her caramel skin. Jaune looked into her eyes, watching as they quivered before him as her tears continued to cascaded down her face. And, Jaune came to the realization that this wasn't about, Robyn's desire for the truth. No, this was for something else entirely.

Jaune: Ahh... you're scared, aren't you, Robyn

Robyn's eyes widened in shock as, Jaune struck the nail on the head with a hammer. She let go of his shirt, she was about to get off his bed, but, Jaune kept her in place as he cupped her cheek with his hand.

Jaune: Hey, look at me...

A reding blush crept across, Robyn's face as she bashfully tried to keep eye contact with, Jaune.

Jaune: There are things I cannot tell you when it comes to, Tyrian. Many things I will not tell you for your own good, Robyn. But, I promise you this, I will protect you from those things.

Robyn looked away from, Jaune, the blush on her face deepening as he spoke those sweet words to her.

Jaune: You said I was your white knight when I saved you. Well, let me be that white knight for you, let me protect you from the monsters in the world. And, I promise you, Robyn, I will keep the monsters at bay.

As, Jaune finished talking, Robyn had whipped away her tears as she smile warmly at, Jaune.

Robyn: Do you promise to, Jaune?

Jaune: I give you an, Arc's word, Robyn.

Robyn: An, Arc's word? what is that?

Jaune: Simple: An, Arc gives their word to you, and an, Arc never breaks their word.

Robyn, laughed at that. the smile on her face growing ever more radiant.

Robyn: That's cheesy.

Jaune: It does, but it made you laugh.

Robyn: That it did...

Robyn reached into her coat, and pulled out a small flat box, and handed it to, Jaune.

Jaune: What's this?

Jaune opened the box, and found a silver badge; It was shaped much like, Robyn's pendant, but instead of a robin with it's wings in the air, it was a falcon.

Robyn: A-A lady's favour...

Jaune: A lady's favour?

Robyn: Y-Yeah... I read about lady's giving their knights tokens... of favour.. and what not... I-I saw this as a good thank you for... for saving me...

Jaune: Ahh... so I am you're knight then, aren't I... My lady?

Jaune shot, Robyn a teasing smirk, a smirk that fell as she looked at him misty eyed. Jaune was going to ask him what was wrong, when she suddenly grabbed his face, and kissed him.

Jaune could feel the warmth, the passion, and desire from, Robyn's lips as she deepened the kiss. They stayed lip locked until, Robyn ended the kiss. A radiant smile that could light up the nights sky came from her blushing face.

Robyn: I will hold you to that, my valiant knight.

Jaune: I uhh...?

Robyn kissed his cheek as she got up, and made her way to leave.

Robyn: I hope to see you later in, Mantle, Jaune. There's a lot of people who wish to thank you.

Jaune: Oh... o-okay...

Robyn: I'll see you later, Jaune~!

Jaune: Bye...

Jaune watched as, Robyn left. His fingers running across his lips, stunned that he had been kissed twice in the same day, by two different woman?!

His mind ran wild trying to comprehend what had just happen, but his concertation was broken as he heard laughter from his left. As he looked over to see red sitting on a counter.

Pyrrha: Oh~? Things are getting interesting, aren't they, Jaune~!

Jaune: O-O-Okay! I knew, Winter had a crush on me! But, I had no idea, Robyn liked me too! You can not hold that against me!

Jaune had expected many thing to happen when he came to, Atlas. Killing one of, Salem's minions was something he had hopped to happen.

But, to have two separate woman kiss him, and proclaim their love to him, in the same day!

Well, who exactly could have expected that?

[nurse-floyd]

Let me set the scene:

It's the Vegas Grand Prix, 2023. Lando has his crash, is high as a bloody kite in the hospital. Lando sees his nurse and I'd convinced he's dead bc 'why else would there be a legit angel?'

This is super short and silly but I absolutely adore this request! Thank you <3

P.S. I also love this and it is possibly one of my favourite photos of him! Boy is high as balls.

The red emergency phone rang, signaling an incoming ambulance, and you answered it with a sigh. "Mercy General Emergency Department," you answered as you clicked your pen and got the handover sheet ready to write down the patient information.

"Male…24…high-speed crash into a wall," you repeated back to dispatch that alerted you to the incoming patient, hating that you’d be spending what was left of your shift dealing with someone’s drunken antics or stupidity that had crashed them into a wall.

"How fast was he going?" you asked, not expecting the answer.

"180."

"Come again? 180mph and he’s still alive?" you repeated, not being able to hide the shock. "Do we need blood? X-Ray? Trauma surgeons and blood on standby? No one has called ahead." You suddenly woke up from the usual lull you felt around this time during your shift, your mind suddenly in full trauma mode.

"No, just precautionary checks. Patient is a Formula One driver and has been cleared by track medics, but they want a second opinion at the hospital and some scans in case."

Then it hit you…you followed F1 and had done for a few years. You’d been following the race on your phone during your breaks and knew Lando had crashed out during turn 14.

"Okay. Thank you, have you got an ETA?"

Dispatch relayed the time of arrival that gave you enough time to announce it over the tannoy and for your team to gather in one of the trauma rooms. You also called in security because you knew the press would be vultures all over this.

With the trauma room ready, you all waited for the arrival of your VIP patient. If you were being truthful, you were a little nervous at meeting one of your celebrity crushes but also knew you needed to keep it professional. What you didn’t expect was the goofy look on Lando’s face as he was wheeled on a stretcher into the room.

As soon as the paramedic crew had handed over and you’d transferred him over to the bed, you began attaching him to monitors and got your list of investigations and tests you’d need to perform from the doctor in charge.

The paramedics had clearly dosed him up with the good meds as he stirred in and out of consciousness, his eyes glassy and the goofy smile still plastered on his face every time his eyes met yours.

You woke him up once again, ready to check his pupils and GCS once more when he was a little more alert than he’d been since he arrived.

"Woah…am I dead?" his voice came out slightly slurred.

"The heart monitor beeping next to you would say otherwise," you laughed in reply.

"Are you sure, because why else would an actual angel be standing in front of me right now?"

You couldn’t help another laugh that escaped your lips as you watched him try to focus on you.

"And that would be the morphine," you fiddled with his IV and checked the fluids running before you input a few more things on his chart.

“I don’t think it is…” he slurred once more, “I know an angel when I see one.”

You were about to reply when you looked up from his chart and saw he’d fallen asleep, his head against his chest. You got up from your seat and adjusted his pillows so his neck wouldn’t be even more painful in the morning.

[cjlouwho]

There was an eerie silence in the hospital room. Nothing was beeping, all the other visitors were long gone, there didn't even seem to be anyone moving around in the halls.

He wasn't very comfortable. They'd brought him in a bed hours ago, but he couldn't seem to move away from the chair. He could keep their hands tangled together this way. Could press a finger against Tommy's wrist and make sure he continued to feel a pulse.

Yeah, the monitors could tell him that Tommy was still there, alive and alright and likely to be discharged in a day or two. But it made Buck feel better to feel that steady thump, thump, thump under the pad of his finger.

He closed his eyes. Tried to steady his own breathing: in, hold, out, hold, in, hold, out. Over and over until his heart calmed down again.

It'd been a problem for him since he got the call. Tommy had been hurt. Fallen off a ladder and lost consciousness. Honestly, they didn't know in the beginning if he'd broken his back or even his neck. They did know that his arm was definitely broken, bending in a way that arms were never meant to bend.

Buck had gotten to the hospital before they had finished all of Tommy's tests. Had sat and paced in the waiting room while Bobby tried to help keep him calm.

Over time, Maddie had come with Chimney. Then Hen and Karen, and Eddie with Christopher. Athena, even while working, had spared some time to stop by and bring food.

Buck didn't eat.

Couldn't eat, really.

He did manage a few sips of a milkshake, mostly for Maddie's sake, but it made him feel more nauseous than anything.

When the doctor finally came out and told him that, besides the arm, there were no other broken bones, Buck took what felt like his first breath since the phone call.

He still had to wait until after Tommy's surgery to see him. His arm needed a rod and pins so it would heal properly.

People filtered in and out. Maddie and Chim had to pick up Jee. Hen and Karen had to get Mara and Denny, and Christopher went with them. Athena had to leave for a robbery call.

Bobby and Eddie stayed. They stayed until Tommy was wheeled into recovery. Stayed until Tommy briefly woke up and managed to mumble a slightly high, “Ev'n? Wha' happened?” Stayed until Buck ate some real food. Stayed until Buck had won the fight with the nurses that he was going to stay the night and they might as well give up on trying to get him to leave because it wasn't going to work.

Eddie left first, letting Buck know he'd be back in the morning.

Everyone would be back in the morning. They'd help out and do whatever they needed to do so that Tommy was as comfortable as possible during his hospital stay.

Bobby stayed a while longer, until the sun had fully set and the little clock above the door showed the short hand on the nine and the long hand on the seven.

They hadn't talked much. Buck, always ready for a conversation, couldn't seem to get many words out.

But before Bobby left, Buck did manage to get up briefly and allow himself to be wrapped in his captain's arms. A tear fell down his face then, as Bobby reassured him that Tommy was okay. He'd recover. He'd be okay.

He pulled himself back together before Bobby had walked out the door. Sat back down beside Tommy, held onto the hand that wasn't connected to a severely broken arm, and made sure to keep a finger over that pulse point.

The room was still dimly lit at two-thirty in the morning. Just enough light for Buck to watch Tommy's face. Make sure there were no signs of discomfort.

In the silence, in his time to do nothing but think, Buck was pretty sure he finally understood. He understood the fear he put his family (Maddie, mostly) through every time he got injured. He understood how quickly someone can be taken from you. He understood just how much a person can mean to you.

People had tried to tell him before.

He never fully got it until now.

Buck scooted his chair closer to Tommy, so he could press his lips to Tommy's calloused knuckles.

He rested his cheek against their intertwined hands after that, closed his eyes and breathed Tommy in. He smelled like Hibiclens, mostly. But he still had that warmth to him, even in the chilly hospital room.

Buck thought of their previous night together. He'd fallen asleep with Tommy's arm tight around his waist, hand sprawled over his stomach. He'd been safely nestled with his back against Tommy's chest. That's how they slept most nights. Sometimes they'd end up the other way around, or facing each other with arms and legs tangled, but mostly Tommy held onto Buck like he was precious cargo.

Ironic.

The adrenaline of the day began to dissipate, so Buck let himself drift off.

It may not be the most comfortable sleeping position, and he'd definitely regret it whenever he woke up, but there was nowhere else he'd rather be.

Soon Tommy would wake. The pain medication would wear off and he'd be uncomfortable. They'd have to schedule doctor's appointments, physical therapy sessions, and possibly more surgeries. Tommy would get grumpy about how much help he needed, and he'd try to overdo it until Buck would be forced to give him an ultimatum. There would be good days and bad ones. Leaps forward and countless setbacks.

And Buck would be grateful for every second of it, because it meant Tommy was alive and safe. As long as those two things were true, Buck could handle anything.

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part two)

(part one)

Steve doesn’t know how long they sit there in silence, waiting. It’s making him insane. The seconds pass too slow; the seconds pass too fast. His mind is a storm; his mind is empty. He’s feeling too much; he’s not feeling at all. He paces the room; he sits catatonically against a wall. He needs to get out of here; he needs to stay. 

He’s been here before, just barely over a week ago, tense and anxious and despairing and waiting for news. But waiting to hear if Eddie will ever remember him again really should not feel this much worse than waiting to hear if Eddie will ever fucking breathe again. Steve thinks there must be something wrong with him. He’s being selfish and stupid. His pathological fucking need to be loved is not what’s important right now. Eddie is alive and awake and okay and that’s the only thing that really matters. That’s the only thing he should really care about.

Steve’s pacing again now, yanking his hands through his hair as he does laps around the room until Eddie finally appears in the doorway. 

Eddie must’ve just cracked a joke or something because the nurse is laughing as she pushes his bed into the room and he’s got this adorable grin on his face. Steve’s heart twists in his chest and he nearly bursts into tears all over again because god does he want nothing more than to press a kiss to those dimpled cheeks. 

“Good news, boys,” Eddie announces. “My brain is fully intact.”

“There’s no physical permanent damage to his brain,” the nurse elaborates. “His amnesia is likely a result of psychological trauma and the temporary disruption of brain function from blood loss and lack of oxygen that occurred at the time of his injury. But there is no obvious reason why he shouldn’t regain his full memory, given time.” 

So there’s hope. Steve breathes a sigh of relief. 

“That is good news,” Wayne agrees. 

Steve asks, “How much time?” 

The nurse gives an unhelpful shrug. “Impossible to say. It could be anywhere from days to months, or even years. I’m sorry, there’s no way for us to know.” 

Years. “Okay.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. He can keep it together. He can. “Thanks,” he tells the nurse. “I, uh-” He makes the mistake of looking at Eddie who looks right through him, and Steve can’t keep it together anymore actually. “I gotta update the kids,” he mutters, backing his way towards the door. Wayne nods in acknowledgment; no protests this time at Steve’s excuse to leave.

“See ya, Harrington,” Eddie calls after him, casual, impersonal, like they're nothing more than acquaintances passing by each other in a high school hallway.  

Steve can’t get out of that hospital fast enough. 

He makes it to his car in record time, slamming the door shut and sinking heavily into the driver’s seat. A ragged sob tries to claw its way up his throat now that he’s finally alone, but he forces it back, staving off his breakdown for just a little bit longer. As much as it was an excuse, he really does have to update the kids. 

Steve fishes his walkie out of the glove box. “Code - whatever, I don’t know. Code Eddie,” he says. He doesn’t remember the kids’ system of codes, nor would he be sure which one this news falls under even if he did. 

“Is he okay? Is he awake?” comes an immediate, eager response from Dustin. “Over.” 

“Yeah, he’s awake, and he’s fine, except he’s got pretty bad amnesia. The doctors say it should be temporary, but right now he doesn’t remember anything since May of ‘85,” Steve explains, trying his best to keep his voice even.

“Steve, come pick me up and take me to see him,” Dustin demands, “right now. Over.” 

“Me too. Over,” Mike chimes in before Steve can respond. 

“And us,” Erica adds as well. 

Steve pauses for a second, both to steady his own breath and to make sure no one else wants to jump in on this too, before he reminds them, “He won’t know you, any of you.” 

“I don’t care,” Dustin says, bossy as ever. “Just come get me. Over.” 

“Jesus Christ, kid,” Steve mutters to himself. He sucks in another breath; it wobbles dangerously. He’s just about reached his limit on how long he can keep himself from falling apart. “I- I need a minute, alright?” he manages through the walkie. “Can you just give me, like, an hour? And then I’ll take you guys to visit Eddie.” 

Steve doesn’t wait for a response before he slams the antenna closed, tosses the walkie aside, and finally, finally lets himself shatter. That sob rips free from his throat, followed by another and another and another. Tears flood from his eyes; his nose runs. It’s an ugly, gross, visceral cry that leaves him exhausted and raw and aching to be held by the time the last sob shudders out of him. Drained and hollow, he craves the embrace of someone who knows him, someone who loves him. 

He sweeps up his broken pieces, wipes the mess of tears and snot off his face, and drives to Robin’s house.

“Steve, oh my god.” Robin pulls him into a hug the second she opens the door and sees the look on his face. Steve clings to her. “What happened?” 

“Eddie’s awake,” he mutters dismally. 

“Oh! Not the tone I’d expect you to deliver that news in, but okay.” Robin pulls back, looking at him with narrow-eyed concern and confusion as she analyzes his puffy eyes and red nose and swollen lips. “And you look like you’ve just been crying because…?”

“Because he doesn’t remember me, Rob,” Steve sighs. “He doesn’t remember anything from the past 11 months.” 

Robin’s eyes go wide now. “Shit,” she says, so plainly it startles a short laugh out of Steve. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Shit.” 

She asks him more questions as she walks down the hallway so they can talk in her room. Steve once again reiterates what was said at the hospital. 

“So you didn’t tell him you two were a thing?” Robin asks, closing her door behind them. 

“Of course I didn’t.” Steve flops back onto her bed. “I didn’t want to spook him.” 

She sits beside him. “You didn’t want to spook him,” she repeats, looking down at him with raised eyebrows, “but you told him about Vecna.” 

“Well, yeah. I just-” He lifts his arms to gesture vaguely into the air as he tries to explain himself. “I mean, imagine how you would feel if you woke up in a hospital and some random guy you’ve spoken to maybe twice was by your bedside telling you you’ve been in a relationship with him for the past 9 months.” 

“Uh, I don’t know, dingus, probably about the same as I’d feel if said guy told me I’d nearly died fighting some evil twisted creature from a hell dimension,” Robin retorts.

Steve drops his hands onto his chest with a huff, shaking his head. “No, trust me. He seemed far less surprised by that than he did to hear that we were even just friends,” he says, a bit bitterly. Tears are pricking at his eyes again as he looks up at his best friend. “You didn’t see the way he looked at me, Robin. All he saw was King Steve.”

Robin softens, snark replaced with sympathy. “That sucks, Steve. I’m so sorry.” 

Steve sighs in agreement that yes this really fucking sucks. He sits up and scoots back so that he’s slumped against the wall, hitting the back of his head against it. “I think I’m a horrible person,” he admits, just venting now, “because of course I’m glad Eddie’s alive and all I really want is for him to be okay, and I know the nurse said he should remember eventually, but there’s still some sick part of me that thinks maybe it would’ve hurt less if he had just died.”

“I don’t think that makes you a horrible person,” Robin assures him as she settles next to him, shoulder to shoulder. “I think you’re just grieving, and grief is weird sometimes.”

“It was one of the worst things I’ve ever felt,” he mutters, “when he looked at me without recognition. To see it on his face, just the- the absence of everything that we’d built. I’ve never felt so- so- I don’t know, it was like I couldn’t breathe. He just- he doesn’t know that I love him. He…he doesn’t know that he loved me...” 

Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? It’s not that he’s lost someone that he loves, it’s that he’s lost someone who loves him. Because Eddie’s not gone, just his love for Steve is, and that’s what’s tearing him apart. It’s the fact that there’s one less person in the world who loves him. It’s the fact that Steve’s got this big gaping hole inside of him that’s always made him so desperate to be loved, liked, wanted, needed; and his biggest fucking fear is becoming obsolete. He could probably trace it back to his parents, the first to forget him, the first to stop loving him, but the fact remains that now Eddie has fulfilled that fear too. Now Eddie has carved that pit a little deeper, a little darker, validating the voice that whispers within it and tells Steve that he is forgettable, unlovable, so easy to abandon and erase. 

“Well, I love you,” Robin tells him, like she can read his mind (which, at this point, she probably can). She slides an arm around his shoulders, hugs him close. “And I’m not going anywhere.” 

Fragile as he is right now, Steve falls apart again in her arms, and she holds him together. Because she knows him, because she loves him.

It’s a quieter cry this time, soft and sniffly. Whereas the last one wracked through his body and left him fatigued, this one flows from him almost gently, and when his tears finally subside and he lifts his head from where it had been buried in his friend’s shoulder, Steve actually feels a little bit better, a little bit stronger. Which is good, because he’s gonna have to face Eddie again soon. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly as he pulls away from Robin, wiping at his eyes and glancing at the clock on her nightstand. It’s definitely been an hour by now, probably more. He stands. “I have to go, I promised the kids I’d take them to see Eddie.” 

“Then I’m coming too.” Robin stands with him. “For moral support.” 

Steve gives her a grateful smile. “I love you so fucking much, you know that?” 

“Yeah.” She grins at him. “I know.” 

~ 

The nurses have changed his bandages and upped his morphine, so Eddie’s considerably hazy now but at least he can raise his headrest and prop himself up a bit without nearly blacking out from pain. He’s boredly flicking through channels on the shitty TV in front of him, alone since Wayne had to leave for work, when Harrington returns followed by a very unexpected group consisting of Robin Buckley and four strange children. 

“Sorry,” Harrington announces their presence with an apologetic shrug, “I know you don’t know them anymore, but they insisted.” 

“Eddie!” a pudgy, curly-haired kid shouts before Eddie can even react, coming barrelling towards him and trying to hug him. 

“Ow!” Eddie yelps, pain flaring even through the extra morphine. “Fucking Christ, kid! Be careful!” 

The kid jumps back immediately, eyes wide. “Shit. Sorry.” 

“S’fine,” Eddie grumbles.

The kid looks at him expectantly for a moment before seeming to realize, “Oh, right, you don’t remember me. I’m Dustin.” 

“Ah, so you’re the guy I sacrificed myself for,” Eddie mutters, and Dustin looks a little sheepish. That means these must be ‘the kids’ Harrington had been talking about earlier. He surveys the group for a second. “Actually, I think we have met before,” he tells Dustin. “And you too.” He glances at a pale, dark-haired kid. The other two - a Black boy with a flat-top and a younger Black girl - look less familiar, though. “There was this, uh, open day thing at the high school for next year’s incoming freshmen; I talked to you about Hellfire.”

“Yeah!” Dustin’s whole face lights up, so bright and infectious it makes Eddie grin too. “Yeah, you did!” 

“So you guys joined the club, then?” 

This sparks a very animated conversation about D&D, the rest of the kids (Mike, Lucas, and Erica, as they soon reintroduce themselves) gathering around his bed now too to join in. It makes him feel a bit more like himself again, familiar, normal. Except, of course, for the fact that they’re not only talking about how they defeated Vecna in Eddie’s “totally epic” and “sadistic” campaign (adjectives courtesy of Dustin and Mike respectively), but also filling in more pieces of the story of how they defeated him in real life too. Still, it’s nice, fun. He totally understands how he could’ve gotten attached to these kids.

At some point, Eddie glances over to find Harrington hanging back and just watching them talk, fondly, wistfully. Robin whispers something to him and he sort of smiles, just a trace, and whispers something back. They seem close, intimate. Eddie wonders if they’re dating, and then he wonders why that thought makes him feel a bit sick. He waves them over. Harrington looks like he’s about to protest, but Robin gives him a Look and he allows her to grab his hand and drag him to join the crowd around Eddie’s bed. 

“So, what’s your deal, Buckley?” Eddie asks her. He doesn’t know her very well, they’ve only crossed paths a few times in the bandroom, but right now that makes her the most familiar person in the room to him. “Are you and Harrington a thing now? Is that how you’re involved in all this?” 

Robin wrinkles her nose and drops Harrington’s hand. “Ew, no. Definitely not.” 

“She’s my best friend,” Harrington says. 

Eddie snorts, doesn’t know why he finds that so comical. (He’s starting to get tired and it’s making him loopy. Or maybe it’s just the morphine.) “You've got a funny choice of friends nowadays, don’t you? Me and band geek Buckley and a bunch of nerdy freshmen.” He looks at Harrington with incredulous amusement. “Who would've thought, huh? Steve Harrington, collector of geeks and freaks.” 

Harrington doesn’t seem to find it as funny. He shrugs. “Yeah, well, it’s better than King Steve, collector of asshole bullies and shallow one-night stands.” 

“Yeah, ‘course it is,” Eddie agrees through another huff of laughter that breaks off into a yawn. “Didn’t mean it as a bad thing, Stevie. Was a compliment.” 

“Alright.” The barest hint of a smile flickers across Harrington’s face now, but then he’s looking away and corralling the kids and saying, “We should head out, let you get some rest.” 

And Eddie kind of wishes he’d stay.

(part three!)

taglist: @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy (only tagged people who explicitly asked to be tagged; if you would like to be added or removed from this list please lmk!)

[wwooyology]

Please Come Back | K.SN

「prompt」 : wake up 「pairing」 : bf!sunoo x fem!reader 「word count」 : 1.2k

「synopsis」 : after a huge argument, you ran out of the apartment in a fit of rage, and sunoo stayed behind; that was until he got word that you had been in a lethal car accident, resulting in you fighting for your lift with no sign of recovering.

「genre」 : angst

「warnings」 : cussing, brief mention of arguments, car accident, death, self-blame, lmk if I missed anything!!

「notes」 : this was written at like three in the morning while I'm fighting for my life to keep my eyes open so hopefully it turned out alright.

masterlist ─ navi. ─ angstober list

“Can you pull your head out of your ass and take a look at the real world? It doesn't revolve around you, y/n!” Sunoo hissed, anger boiling hot in his veins as he glared at you.

Matching his glare with one of your own, you scoffed in disbelief, “You know what, Sunoo? Fuck you!”

With that, you stormed out of the house, refusing to listen to another word that would leave his lips. That was probably the worst decision that you could have made in your life and, quite frankly, your last.

In the span of an hour, you had been involved in a car accident with a drunk driver and was rushed to the hospital.

In the span of an hour, Sunoo received the call that nearly made his heart stop in his chest. You were critically injured and currently undergoing surgery that could mean a matter of life or death.

Dropping his phone, he quickly made his way to the hospital, surprised that he hadn’t been pulled over in the process. Once he got there, he rushed into the hospital and to the receptionist's desk, asking them for you.

“The patient is still currently in surgery,” The nurse explained to the blonde with a solemn expression because things weren’t looking too good for you.

Sunoo then asked which operating room and pointed him in the right direction. Running off, he stopped in front of the door, pacing back and forth. You had to be okay, right? This was just a simple surgery, and you would come out alive.

Right?

‘It was just a stupid fight. Why did it escalate so far?’ He started to beat himself up over the argument, praying that you would make it out of this and he could make it up to you.

After what felt like hours, the operation light finally turned off, and the door slid open. Sunoo quickly rushed up to the doctor, asking how you were, to which they gave him a look filled with pity.

“We’ve done everything we can, but she’d be lucky to make it through the night.” The doctor informed the younger male, who nearly collapsed to his knees right then and there.

Nurses quickly rushed over to help hold him up, but Sunoo wasn’t worried about them. He quickly grabbed the doctor's arm and looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Can I see her?” His voice shook as he tried his best to keep the tears that had built up on his waterline at bay, but as the seconds ticked by, it was proving more and more difficult to do so.

The doctor agreed before moving to the side and allowing Sunoo to walk into the room. As soon as he walked into the room, the tears he fought so hard to stop started flowing down his flushed cheeks. 

There you were, lying in the hospital bed. A multitude of wires and tubes connected to your body, and god, did you look so, so lifeless. If it wasn’t for the faint beeping of the heart monitor, one would think that you were just a corpse lying there. The sight caused Sunoo’s heart to hurt, a sharp pain shooting throughout his entire body.

He couldn’t stop the tears. All of the overwhelming grief and anger hit him like a freight train. There was no way he could process all of the emotions at once. His fist connected with the solid wall next to him in the blink of an eye.

It hurt, god, it hurt like hell, but even when he looked down at his now busted knuckles with misty eyes, he didn’t even think twice before punching the wall once more. A cry fell from his lips as nurses rushed in to keep him from doing any more damage to his hand.

He wept and shouted, all of the pain coming out in anger until he tired himself out and just sat on the floor of the room. His eyes never leave your motionless figure as you lay in that bed.

Once he finally gained enough strength, he pushed himself to his feet before stumbling over to your side. Gently grabbing your hand, he dropped back down to his knees as more sobs racked from his body. He begged and pleaded with you to wake up. To yell at him once more for being such an asshole and that you would be just fine.

“I’m so so so fucking sorry, baby. Please come back to me.” He cried, fingers tightening around you as he studied your face.

Even as he sat by your side for the next few hours, he continued to blame himself for your situation. Blaming himself for blowing up at you for asking a simple question. Cursing himself for letting the fight spiral out of control like it did.

“I know I’m an idiot, but I swear when you get out of here, I’ll do anything to make it up to you, just–” He was cut off by a hiccup as tears fell endlessly from his eyes, “Just come back to me. Please.”

Those next few moments felt like they happened in slow motion. The heart monitor that had been reading your shallow heartbeat suddenly fell flat, and your whole body went still. A loud alarm rang around Sunoo as he panicked, calling for the doctors to rush in.

“Get him out of here!” They shouted as the nurses tried to pull Sunoo from the room, but he refused to move. Watching as they started CPR and trying to bring you back.

The ringing in his ears was so loud that he couldn’t hear anything else, tears blurring his vision once more. Even if it brought upon an unimaginable pain, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scene in front of him.

“Time of death; 2:49 am.” Those words echoed in Sunoo’s mind as he watched them move away from your body.

He refused to believe it; you couldn’t be gone. You couldn’t have just left him like that. No, this was just some sick and twisted joke that you were pulling to get back at him for arguing with you.

Rushing over to your motionless body, he grabbed your shoulders and shook you like a ragdoll, “Come on, y/n, this isn’t funny anymore. The prank’s over. Ha ha, very funny.” He laughed dryly as he continued to shake your body. “Wake up, please. Please wake up. I can’t do this without you.” His cried echoed all around the room, the doctors and nurses averted their gazes in pity, some crying tears of their own.

“Don’t leave me, please, I’m sorry.” He sobbed, dropping down to his knees at your bedside.

“I’m sorry, but she’s gone.”

“NO!” Sunoo shouted at the doctor with a teary gaze, “she wouldn’t leave me like this. She just wouldn’t.”

The doctors allowed him a few moments with you in silence before ultimately dragging him out of the room as he kicked and screamed. Then, even after he was removed, he continued to plead with you to come back.

“I’m sorry I’m such an idiot.” He hiccuped as he looked up, tears flowing from the corner of his eyes. "God, just give me one more chance.”

But he knew it was too late for another chance. You were gone, and the last words he said to you were out of anger. Something that would eat at him until the day he died.

All because of a petty argument.

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[aceospadesart]

Out of all the things in Mouthwashing that stuck to me, it’s the fact that Anya kept trying to enter medical school eight times but keeps failing.

You’d think that after two or three times, hell, maybe even four, she would have given up. Maybe she would have used her bachelor’s degree for something else. Accepted the fact that she was just going to be another cog in the machine and get a job she doesn’t enjoy. But she didn’t. As of the time Mouthwashing starts, she tried a total of eight times.

I’m not even sure what’s worse. The fact that, after every rejection, she applied to a new one every year for eight years, or the fact that she applied to eight schools within a shorter timeframe and all eight of them rejected her. How brave and strong must one be to continue trying. That she never gave up on your dreams to try eight times. And how devastated must she be when Pony Express recruited her just to cut corners because they didn’t want to pay for a licensed and “qualified doctor”. And even when, in the eyes of most people she’s an unqualified nurse, she still continued to do her job with joy and never slacked off on her duties.

And let’s not forget that she kept Curly alive for at least six months with paper tape and glue. And you guys have seen Curly. He should have been burnt to death. And if the burns didn’t kill him, infections would have because he doesn’t have skin. But Anya kept him alive. His bandages don’t look completely soaked in blood. Anya regularly changed his bandages to the point that, when they’re most likely out of it, Curly’s bandages aren’t as soaked or bloody as one would expect.

So if there’s a reason why she wasn’t qualified for medical school, its definitely not because of her lack of knowledge or perseverance. Maybe it’s financial reasons. Maybe she’s just unlucky and she’s always the one who was just below the cut of passing. Medical schools definitely have limited slots. So there’s a possibility that Anya either is always just either one point or one roll of the dice away from being chosen, or that’s what she tells herself to continue pursuing her dream as a doctor.

Anya Mouthwashing, they can never make me hate you.

[cosyvelvetorchid]

Alt meet bucktommy prompt: instead of Buck and Maddie riding in an ambulance after Doug kidnaps her, the weather is too bad so they airlift them out. Tommy is the pilot. He hears Maddie asking after chimney and Tommy is like “howie got stabbed??” Anyway, Tommy ends up staying at the hospital to check on Chimney (another reason why Chim feels comfortable enough to call him for the water drop later on) and while Maddie and Chimney are having their moment, Buck and Tommy have one in the hallway outside his room.

1. Thanks for the prompt. I enjoyed writing this one.

2. Love your username!

3. Enjoy! 🩶

**********

Buck wanted to cry with relief when Maddie was being lifted into the helicopter to fly her to hospital. He didn’t—he kept himself together for her sake. She needed him to be strong right now, even though he himself was in absolute awe of Maddies own strength in surviving what she had. Surviving that son of a bitch Doug. If she hadn’t have killed him, Buck would have.

“We’re almost there, guys.” Pilot Kinard said through the mic.

“You hear that, Maddie? We’re almost there. You're doing great.” Buck squeezed her hand and smiled at her, trying to keep her positive.

“Tired.” She mumbled, her eyelids getting heavy.

“Uh, hey, hey, Maddie, I-I know... I know you're tired, but I-I need you to keep your eyes open for me. You-you know the drill.”

“Uh-huh.” She said trying to force them open as best she could as the medic on board tended to her wounds.

“Yeah, just, uh... just like that.” Buck reassured her. “Hey, you, uh... you think you had a hard day. Athena and I have been running all over the state looking for you. I wasn't dressed for snow.”

“Me, either.” She joked and it sent relief through Buck.

“Athena said she'd, uh.. she'd call Bobby, let everyone know that you're okay. They are gonna be... so relieved. Chimney. Chimney most of all.”

“Chimney's alive?” She questioned, her face breaking into relieved tears.

“Oh, my God. Y.. Maddie, no, yeah, Ch-Chimney's alive. He, uh.. He-he made it through.” He paused. “You both did.”

“Uh, Chimney as in Howard Han?” Tommy asked.

“Y-yeah. You know him?” Asked Buck.

“Yeah I know him. Was at the 118 back when he was a probie.”

“No way.” Buck exclaimed. Small world, he thought.

“You said he’s going to be okay?”

“Yeah. Docs said through knife missed any vital organs.” Buck told him.

“Thank God for that.”

**

Maddie was going to be okay. Just like Chim, Doug had missed anything vital when he stabbed her. She’d need quite a few weeks to heal from the physical injuries, and likely many more for the psychological injuries, but she was alive and Buck was grateful for that.

The hospital that she’s been taken to wanted to keep her for a few days for observation which she didn’t want. She wanted to go home and make sure Chimney really was okay.

So after some begging, cajoling and Tommy offering to transport her to the hospital in L.A where Chimney was admitted, the doctors agreed to let her go.

After getting checked in at the second hospital the first thing Maddie did was asked to be taken to chimneys room. Buck followed behind as a nurse wheeled Maddie to his room.

“Are you coming in?” She asked Buck.

He shook his head and gave her a reassuring smile. “No. You-you should have some time alone.” She smiled thankfully and was wheeled inside by the nurse who closed the door on her way back out.

Buck leant against the wall opposite the room, watching them through the window. He smiled seeing them happily embrace one another.

“Your sister okay?”

Buck turned to see Tommy walk up. “Uh, yeah. She’s okay. Relived that Chim is okay.” He pointed to the window.

Tommy looked in to see Maddie sitting on the edge of Chim’s bed, leant forward with her head in his shoulder and him stroking her hair.

“That’s sweet.” He responded.

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay?” He asked Buck, noticing his hands were shaking. The shock and adrenaline from the last 48 was beginning to wear off.

“Y-yeah, I’m.. I’m fi-“ his face crumpled and his breath hitched. A whine came from his throat as tears exploded from his eyes.

“Hey, woah! I got you.” Tommy moved quickly and put an arm around him, guiding him a few feet away from the window to Chimneys room and wrapped his arms around Bucks shoulders.

Buck fell into him almost and held on tight to Tommys flight suit as all of the fear and relief he’d held inside poured out of him.

“It’s ok. You’re okay.” Tommy said softly, running a gentle hand up and down his back.

When Buck came to his senses, an embarrassed heat flushed through him and he let go of Tommy.

“I’m-I’m sorry.” He sniffed and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “I didn’t mean to..” he blew out a breath and rapidly blinked his eyes in an attempt to dry them out.

“You have nothing to apologise for, uh..” Tommy realised that he didn’t know the man’s name.

“Buckley. Evan, uh.. Evan Buckley.”

“Evan. Tommy Kinard.” He smiled.

Buck felt- he looked at the man before him. He had piercing blue eyes surrounded by warm wrinkles as he smiled, a light dusting of stubble caressed his jaw, dipping into the prominent cleft of his chin. He was incredible handsome. Beautiful, even.

He’d admired good looking men before, even checked out the ass of a few—which was totally normal—But this was.. different. There was a warm feeling in his belly at those eyes and that smile and that cleft.

And definitely that build. Buck wondered what his physique looked like underneath the flight suit.

Was it weird to think that a crying man was beautiful? Tommy couldn’t decide. Evan was definitely gorgeous—that baby face, the cute birthmark and those lips.. Tommy would go to war if those lips asked him to.

But it was the vulnerability that got him. He’d felt a little disappointed when Evan pulled away. He’d wanted to comfort him longer. Which Tommy wasn’t entirely unaware was strange given that up until seconds ago he didn’t know this man’s name.

“It’s just.. she’s all I have, ya know?” Buck told him.

“Your parents not around?”

“Oh they’re around but they- She pretty much raised me herself. She the strongest person I know. But seeing her like that today..” He blew out a breath in an attempt to keep himself together.

“It must have been scary.” Tommy offered and Buck nodded.

Buck all of a sudden felt exposed. He rubbed his face with hai hands trying to clear away the remaining emption.

“Do.. do you have to go back to work?” Buck asked.

“Actually my shift ended an hour ago.”

“Oh. Why are you still here?” Buck realised how that sounded and rushed to correct himself. “I-I mean, you can go home. If you want.”

“I actually can’t fly back to Harbor. I’ve now maxed out my flying hours for the week so I’m officially grounded.” He explained. “I have to stay here until they send another pilot to fly the helo back.”

“How long will that be?”

“Not sure. Our other pilot is on another call right now so could be 1 hour, could be several.” He said. “Besides, I wanted to check on Howie anyway. Although, I think your sister has that covered.” He chuckled.

“Yeah. That’s why I didn’t go in; wanted to give them their moment.”

“Are they dating?” Tommy asked.

“Uh, actually it was their first date that night.”

“Talk about bad luck.”

“Seems my sister is carrying on the Buckley tradition of almost dying on a first date.” Buck joked. Tommy gave him a confused look.

Buck let out a small laugh. “Last year. I, uh.. choked on a piece of bread and my date had to perform an emergency tracheotomy.”

Tommy pushed himself off the wall he was leaning on and stared at Buck. “What?!”

Buck laughed again. “Yeah. I should be clear—they were a dispatcher so not a civilian, and did have medical help over the phone. But yeah, I stopped breathing for a minute.” He pulled down the neck of his hoodie to revealing the pale scar on the base of his throat.

Without even thinking about it Tommy reached up and his finger tips grazed the area. Buck felt his body temperature go up with a flush at the touch.

Tommy suddenly realised what he was doing and pulled his hand back, shifting awkwardly in his stance.

“I thought I’d had some bad dates, but I’ve never almost died.” He said trying to push whatever this feeling was he had back down.

“What was your worst?”

“Huh.” Tommy said thinking about it. “Gotta be between the guy that stole my car the morning after, or the guy that dined and dashed but didn’t tell me until the police showed up at my door the next morning.

So Tommy was into guys. Buck felt.. pleased? Relieved? ..happy? He couldn’t pinpoint the feeling.

“Did you get arrested?”

Tommy shook his head. “Thankfully, no. I knew one of the officers and they knew I wasn’t the type to do that. I still paid the bill though.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have.”

“Yeah, well, I really love Micelli’s and wanted to be able to go back.” He laughed and Buck followed suit.

His laugh was beautiful. And that dimpled smile when he did it made Tommys mouth go dry.

The laugh died down but they continued to look at one another. Buck couldn’t pull his eyes away. Tommys eyes were just so mesmerising that he could willingly get lost in them.

They broke eye contact when Tommy’s phone rang.

“Go for Kinard.. okay great.. I’ll be there in second… bye.” He tucked his phone back into his pocket. “Seems my ride is here and a replacement pilot.”

A flood of disappointment filled Buck that Tommy was leaving.

“Right. I mean, uh, good. I-I bet you’re looking forward to getting home.” Buck said unable suddenly to keep eye contact.

“I’m definitely looking forward to a shower.” He said with a chuckle. “But it was nice meeting you Evan.” He reached out a hand to shake. Buck took it and held on to it a second longer than was normal. He kind of didn’t want to let go.

“Uh.. you too, Tommy.”

“Tell Howie I’ll call him in a few days to check in.” He said beginning to walk away.

“I-I will.”

Tommy wanted to turn back around and.. well, he didn’t know what. He wanted to stay talking to Evan that was for sure. He was gorgeous and sweet and adorable and.. and probably straight. There was no point in deluding himself, he thought, as he pressed the elevator button.

Before Buck knew what he was doing he was running down the corridor to the elevator.

“Wait!” He called out and Tommy turned around.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Uh.. I-I.. I was wondering if, uh.. if you would like to.. to go to.. dinner. With me. Some.. sometime.” Buck let out a relieving breath.

Tommy looked at him for a moment and tilted his head. It made Buck feel weird—like he was naked and exposed.

“Evan, are you asking me out on a date?” Tommy asked, trying his damndest not to give away the excitement he was feeling.

Buck, however, realised what he had done. He’d just run towards Tommy not really thinking about what he was going to say, and oh..

Oh.

It suddenly hit him. The warmth in his belly, the little pin pricks of nerves he was feeling when talking to Tommy, and the definite swooping in his belly when Tommy was looking at him.. he liked Tommy.

“Yeah, I.. I guess so.” He smiled shyly. “But-but if you don’t, uh.. if you don’t want to that’s-“

Tommy stepped forward, tilted Bucks head up by the chin and kissed him.

Buck thought his bones had disappeared. It took all of his strength to not melt into a puddle on the floor at the feel of Tommys soft and warm lips. He pushed back into the kiss for a second before Tommy pulled away.

“Was that okay?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper and looking at Buck with those eyes. Buck was simply fucking mesmerised and all he could do was nod.

Again, Buck moved before his brain could compute what was happened and he shoved his lips back onto Tommy’s. Tommy responded with unexpected hum and a lash of flames soared up through Buck at the sound.

His arm immediately wrapped around Tommys neck to draw him in as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss.

Tommy didn’t have any brain cells left to resist and wrapped his arms around Bucks waist and opened his mouth to let Bucks tongue in and holy mother of god it was exquisite!

His perfectly plump lips were softer than he could have imagined and moved so wonderfully against his own, with perfect pressure and a delicacy Tommy hadn’t experienced in a kiss before.

A voice echoing out of the hospital tannoy brought Tommy back to his senses and he gently ended the kiss.

“We should probably stop.” He spoke; his voice hoarse and thick with desire. He desperately wanted to kiss Evan again but they weren’t exactly in the best place for that.

He placed a gentle kiss to Buck cheek before stepping back.

Bucks chest was filled with a number of different feelings. Pleasure, excitement, confusion. And a feeling of contentment he hadn’t anticipated. As though a piece of him had slid in to place that he hadn’t realised was missing.

Buck couldn’t take his eyes off Tommys swollen, pinked up lips.

“I really have to go.” Tommy said reluctantly. “Hand me your phone.” Buck unlocked it and passed it over. Tommy put in his phone number before giving it back and pressing the elevator button. The doors immediately opened and he stepped inside, turning to face Buck.

“Text me when and where and I’ll be there.” He said with a smile.

“I-I will.” Buck replied, his own throat struggling to make sound.

“Bye, Evan.” The doors began to use shut.

“Bye.”

Buck was in a total love struck daze as he walked back to Chimneys room.

“Earth to Buck!”

“Huh? What?” His brain finally came back online to see Maddie in her wheelchair in the doorway to Chim’s room.

“I said what’s got you smiling like that?” She asked.

An embarrassed flush tried to take him over by he coughed and pushed it away.

“I’m, uh.. I’m just happy you’re okay. Both of you.” He smiled and followed her back into the room.

**********

[thriftyshark530]

Love when whumpee is put into a coma, and caretaker doesn't leave their side. A caretaker so dedicated to watching over whumpee that they need to be pulled away from whumpee in order to sleep, and they absolutely will not leave whumpee's side unless one of their friends swaps places with them and watches over whumpee in their stead. Caretaker is never gone for long though, and is quick to take charge of watching over whumpee again. A caretaker that keeps whumpee shaved and clean, making sure not to touch any of the machines keeping whumpee alive. A caretaker that watches over the doctors and nurses that routinely check on whumpee, thanking them for taking care of whumpee and asking if whumpee will wake up soon. A caretaker that holds whumpee's hand, listening to the monitor and ventilator as they wait patiently for whumpee to wake up. A caretaker that climbs into whumpee's hospital bed, playing with whumpee's hair as they tell whumpee how their day went. A caretaker that begins crying into whumpee's shirt, begging whumpee to wake up soon. A caretaker that holds whumpee's hand as they fall asleep next to whumpee's bed. A caretaker that screams for staff when whumpee finally wakes up. A caretaker that wraps whumpee up in the tightest hug after the staff tells them it's ok, crying in whumpee's arms as whumpee tries to calm them down.

Whumpee could never imagine all that caretaker did for them while they were asleep.

[unclewaynemunson]

@bigskyandthecoldgun made this very big-brained post about the perfect miscommunication potential of Eddie's heart monitor betraying his feelings for Steve while he's recovering. @mostrizzaward asked me to write it and how could I say no to that :D

The first time Steve sets foot in Eddie's hospital room is terrifying. Eddie is as pale as a dead man. He has dozens of wires attached to his body, that are connected to just as many machines and monitors displaying complicated graphs, all softly beeping at varying intervals. Everyone in the room talks in soft, grave voices and all the nurses and doctors have matching serious frowns on their faces.

But what seemed to be impossible happens on a dreary Wednesday afternoon in April: Eddie opens his eyes for the very first time since he passed out in Dustin's arms. Steve is at work when that happens, but rushes to the hospital as soon as he can, and suddenly Eddie's room seems a lot less terrifying than before. Because Eddie is grinning at him from his bed, even though he's still pale and weak. He's not only alive, he's awake. It's a goddamn miracle. His wide grin is familiar despite the big scar that has marred his cheek. Fuck, Steve doesn't think he'll ever be able to put into words how much he missed that smile.

Eddie rasps his name as a greeting and Steve comes closer to the bed. But then, something weird happens.

The machines around Eddie's bed are still beeping, but there's less of them now. The electronic symphony of noises has been reduced to a duet of two different beep patterns that are clearly distinguishable from each other. And one of them speeds up rapidly when Steve leans over the bed in an awkwardly angled attempt to give Eddie a hug.

“You okay?” Steve asks, worried. He wonders if he should call for a nurse.

“Yeah, man,” Eddie mumbles. His eyes flash towards the monitor in question for a second and a blush creeps over his white cheeks. He seems ill at ease; Steve can't quite put his finger on it but there's something weirdly awkward about the whole thing. He seems otherwise fine, though, so Steve decides no nurses will be necessary.

He clears his throat and takes a seat in the chair next to the bed. For a moment, he wonders why he's even here. They weren't exactly friends before all of this happened. It would be perfectly normal for Eddie not to want him around – and yet here he is, visiting him in the hospital like it's the most normal thing in the world. What is he even doing here?

But then, Eddie starts talking about how his uncle was with him when he woke up and gave him this book he's been wanting to buy for ages.

“He cried, Steve, I've never seen him cry in my life, but he was bawling, I'm not kidding!”

Despite his animated tone, Eddie's voice is still weak and his eyes keep falling shut even while he is talking. Steve knows that he shouldn't overstay his welcome and let Eddie rest, but he finds himself too captivated in how alive Eddie is, even though his whole presence – his loud voice, his broad arm gestures, his expressive face – seems a little bit toned down. So when Eddie tells him with a vague gesture to his nightstand that he tried to read his new book, but found himself too tired to focus properly, Steve finds himself proposing to read it to Eddie before he even realizes what he's doing.

And then the weird thing happens again. Eddie starts smiling at the exact same time the heart monitor accelerates.

Steve chooses to pretend like he doesn't notice. Instead, he takes the book from the nightstand and flips it open on the first page. He starts reading aloud, but he can't really keep his attention on the words that come out of his own mouth. He can't help but feel like he made a mistake. Is the heart monitor signaling to him that his presence is making Eddie uncomfortable? Shouldn't he have left Eddie alone to rest when he started getting tired? Why the hell did he ever think it'd be a good idea to read to him in the first place? He's never been a good reader, and certainly not a performer like Eddie. So he awkwardly stumbles his way through the words on the pages, in no way able to keep up with the complicated plot and no doubt failing spectacularly in the use of voices and appropriately ominous pauses and whatnot. Whenever he glances up from the pages, he finds Eddie leaning into his pillow with his eyes closed and a faint smile around his lips, only to find out he's lost track of where he was when he directs his attention back to the book in his hands.

It doesn't take long until Eddie's breathing becomes audibly deeper and evens out. Steve softly closes the book. He allows himself a few moments to do nothing but stare at Eddie's face and be grateful for the absence of a breathing tube between his lips, showing that he's only sleeping this time. Then, he gets up and tiptoes out of the room.

***

The weird thing with the heart monitor keeps happening every time Steve visits Eddie. It happens when he greets him, when he starts reading to him, and especially whenever he helps him adjust his position in the bed he's still chained to. Every time they touch, every time Steve gets close to him in any way, like clockwork. And every time, it's paired with some kind of physical reaction on Eddie's part: a blush on his cheeks, a somewhat forced chuckle, or sometimes even a badly concealed flinch, away from where Steve's hands are touching Eddie.

Steve pretends not to notice it, for Eddie's sake, but it can only happen so many times before he has to face the clear and obvious truth here: his presence is making Eddie extremely uncomfortable.

One part of it still doesn't make sense, though: Eddie actually asks him to read to him or to help him sit up or lie down again, and the next thing he knows, Eddie will suddenly be avoiding his gaze and that goddamn heart monitor will make it sound like Eddie is trying to break a sprint record instead of lounging in his bed, and he'll recoil from Steve's touch like he doesn't want his hands anywhere around him.

Steve muses over Eddie's odd behavior for days before he comes to the only logical conclusion: Eddie is actually repulsed by him and is too polite to tell him the truth. It's the only explanation that makes sense. It's just like what Steve realized so clearly that first time after Eddie woke up: they weren't friends before this, so why should they be now? Steve has no business being at his bedside all of a sudden, and Eddie doesn't have the heart to be mean to him and spell that out for him.

He can't even blame Eddie for it. For most of the time they've known each other, Steve was a major asshole, everybody knows that. Sure, they're twenty now and Steve has moved past high school stereotypes when he got close to Robin, but still... Those stereotypes made up everything about who they were, how they were perceived and who they interacted with for four whole years of their lives – six even, in Eddie's case. Eddie doesn't have any reason to want to let that go like Steve did.

He would never admit it to anyone, but the conclusion he reaches breaks Steve's heart: he should stay away from Eddie. Eddie has every right not to like having Steve around and Steve certainly doesn't want to add to his discomfort. He has been through enough, Steve wouldn't want to make this whole long and painful process of recovery even worse for Eddie by imposing his unwanted presence on him.

It doesn't matter that Steve has started to look forward to his hospital visits like they're the very best part of his week. It doesn't matter that Steve's heart starts racing for whole other reasons than Eddie's whenever they're close, whenever they're touching or whenever Eddie is smiling that beautiful smile of his. It doesn't matter that Steve wants nothing more than to keep reading to Eddie even though he still doesn't have a clue what that stupid book is about. None of it matters, because that's simply the price one has to pay for being an asshole and a bully in high school.

It doesn't matter, because there are way worse things than the guy you've developed feelings for secretly harboring a grudge against you. He still has Robin, he still has his little nerds, he even has Nancy back; as a friend, this time, which is honestly better than things ever were between them. He has the knowledge that Eddie survived and will be getting better with each passing day. Maybe he can start dating again, find a cute girl with blue eyes and blonde hair who doesn't remind him of the one person he can't be around, and it'll all be fine again. It doesn't matter.

Update: there's now a sequel post :D

[tooclevertobehappy]

Hidden in plain sight Part.4

TRIGGER WARNING: slight mention of injury, mentions of abuse, all angst no comfort

They’d been led into Clara’s room almost an hour ago, stood around for a few minutes staring at her as she slept, unsure of what to do before each of them found their place.

Mapi and Ingrid sat at her sides, both holding one of her hand in theirs, keeping their eyes on her, watching for any sign indicating she might be waking up.

Alexia took post near the door, standing against the wall her arms crossed over her chest, eyes locked on Clara’s face. The couple urged her to sit down or to at least stand near them, but the captain had refused, face tight, lips pressed into a hard line she’d simply looked at the door and stayed there.

She’d stared down any nurse or doctor that came by during their wait, she’d watched closely as they checked Clara vitals, looked at her bandages, she’d stood there looking like a spring wound tight, ready to snap at any moment.

Alexia felt like she had failed Clara, that she hadn’t protected her when it mattered and she would be damned if she let anything happen to her now. But Clara wasn’t awake, and it’s not like she could deal with her father herself, so she stood guard.

She couldn’t believe how small she looks in that hospital bed, the pediatrics gown they’ve put on her doesn’t help either, the small smiling characters contrast with the severity of her injuries. While the bandage and bruise on her face shocked all of them when they’d entered, she knows that the ones hidden by the gown are so much worse.

They’d been sat in an almost religious silent since they’d entered, their vigil only interrupted during the regular check-ins of the nurses, all looking for any signs of life from Clara, while they all knew that the regular beeping of the monitor meant that she was here and alive, they knew that they would only be able to start to relax when she would finally open her eyes.

Clara may have been lying less than a meter away from them, but it felt like she’d never been further, they’d all missed it. They had spent months alongside her, and somehow never noticed that it was all wrong, the smiles, the laugh, the playful banter, it had only been a ruse to hide the truth.

A small whine echoed in the room, pulling the attention of all three women towards the bed. Mapi and Ingrid standing immediately and leaning over the bed toward Clara’s face while Alexia took the few steps separating her from the foot of the bed to reach them.

“Nena?” asked Mapi “Can you hear us?”

More soft sounds came out of the young girl whose face seemed to tense as she slowly became more aware.

“Can you open your eyes nena?” pleaded Ingrid, the desperation to finally see Clara awake seeping through her words.

Clara didn’t open her eyes but one of her hands came up trying to feel her head where pain still radiated from, Mapi caught it just as she was about to reach the bandage covering up her forehead.

“No no no Nena leave that alone” she softly tells her, voice firm.

A confused whine comes out of Clara as she blearily open her eyes, blinking slowly as she makes direct eye contact with Alexia from her position on the lightly raised bed. Her eyebrows scrunched in confusion, her gaze darting around the room as she takes in her surrounding. Her eyes dart to each of the women standing in the room, Mapi and Ingrid by her sides and her captain standing before her.

“Wha.. What happened?” Clara asks.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” answers Ingrid, her shaky voice causing Clara’s confusion to rise.

“Training? We were doing the 11vs11 and then… I don’t know, my head hurts though, so I’m guessing I hit it? Is that why we’re here? And why you all look at me like I’m about to die?” answers Clara trying to see the humor in the situation.

Clara’s joke about the scar was meant to lighten the mood, but it felt hollow. Her words hung in the air, flat and forced. It was the same nervous habit she had when she didn’t know what to say, when she was unsure how to handle the tension building around her.

Alexia’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her eyes narrowing as Clara made light of the situation. The smile on Clara’s face, the joke about their worry, it grated against everything Alexia was feeling. She wanted to shout, to demand answers. She turned away from the scene in front of her, trying to calm herself.

“Yes, you hit and bashed your forehead open during training, you lost consciousness and that’s why you were brought here” confirms Ingrid, whose hand is now back holding Clara’s, running small circle on it with her thumb.

“Will the scar look cool at least?” says Clara wiggling her eyebrows towards Mapi.

Alexia turns back to them, her hand coming down harshly against the metal bars of the foot of the bed, the smack resonating throughout the room.

“Will you stop joking! Alexia’s voice broke the tense silence, loud and raw. She slapped her hand against the metal foot-board of the bed with a sharp crack, and Clara flinched, the sound ringing in the room. “You had us all worried to death!”

Clara’s smile faltered, and she stiffened in Ingrid’s grip, her eyes wide with confusion. Her body tensed, as if the words had physically struck her. She turned to look at Alexia, but the captain had already turned away, her shoulders rigid with barely contained anger.

The couple shared a worried look over her, both noticing the growing tension in the room. Mapi took a step closer to Alexia, her hand coming up to rest on her shoulder, but it was like touching a live wire. Alexia’s tension radiated off her, a palpable force that made the air feel thick. Mapi could see the storm brewing in her captain’s eyes, but she couldn’t calm it.

“Ale…” whispers Mapi

Ingrid’s calm voice cut through the tension. “Alexia, stop. She’s not ready for this. We need to focus on her, not fight each other.”

“No! She doesn’t get to joke about this! She doesn’t get to pretend everything is just fine!” exclaims Alexia pushing Mapi’s hand off her and taking a small step back.

Clara’s heart raced. The outburst felt like a slap, and she could feel her pulse pounding in her throat. What had she done? Why was Alexia angry at her? Her mind raced, struggling to make sense of the sudden change in atmosphere. Had she been next to her when she got injured? Had she injured someone else and the captain is mad at her for it? She racks her brain trying to make up a story in her head that would fit with her reaction but comes up empty.

“I don’t understand” she says in a small voice.

Ingrid softly smiles at her, but she can see the unease in her traits as she looks up at her, the hand that she’d been tightly holding onto lets go and a small part of her wishes she could grab it right back, and Ingrid’s hand comes up to her unmarred cheek and she slowly caresses it.

Ingrid’s hand was warm against her cheek, and for the briefest moment, Clara allowed herself to lean into it, as though the simple gesture might pull her back from the brink of panic. “It’s okay, nena”, Ingrid murmured, her voice gentle but firm. “Just focus on healing. That’s all that matters right now. “

Clara wished she could sink into Ingrid, desperate to feel the comfort she’d been craving for months, but she couldn’t allow herself to fall into it, Alexia is already upset with her, and there’s no way she’d allow herself comfort, not when she’d obviously done something wrong and needed to atone for it somehow.

She starts to wonder if this is it. If Alexia is finally tired of having to take care of her. She’d tried no to be a bother to the older players, tried to do her part and follow all of the captain’s order. But maybe she’d been too much, too needy, maybe that’s why Alexia seemed so distant.

She should be used to it by now, trusted adults giving up on her, she should have learned that lesson long ago. Tried to get by whilst only relying on herself, tried to distance herself from the pain that would come with the inevitable abandonment that seemed to follow her wherever she went.

But she made mistakes, got too attached again, went to dinner at Mapi and Ingrid’s house, got attached to them, to their gentle care, followed Alexia’s advice blindly and did all she could to get the words of praise she craved from her.

She ended up in the same place she always does. Scared, hurt and alone. Sure she’s surrounded by them in the too bland hospital room, but in the end it’s only her.

Only her that goes home to her father, her who patches herself up and gets up in the morning no matter how much it hurts. It’s the four walls of her room that bear witness all her cries and anguish, it’s her who fights to keep going when it feels like the world is crushing her.

Clara can only rely on herself, it’s why she inches herself away from Ingrid, as much as she can, trapped on the small hospital bed, she’s rebuilding her walls, readying herself to face Alexia’s anger head-on, it’s why she misses the way Ingrid’s smile falls, how Mapi and Alexia abruptly end their hushed argument to turn and look at her.

“Nena?” asks Ingrid, trying to understand how in the space of a few seconds Clara went from leaning on her to seemingly trying to get as far from her as she can.

“I’m sorry for whatever I’ve done” says Clara, tone flat, almost mechanical.

The women all share concerned looks, it’s like she’d completely disconnected herself from the situation, laying there but not fully present.

“What are you apologizing for Nena? You’ve done nothing wrong” asserts Mapi, walking closer to her bed, but Clara barely reacts to her approach, her gaze unfocused and distant.

Clara turns her head to look at her, but to Mapi it feels like she’s looking through her rather than at her.

“But I must have done something wrong don’t I? It’s why she’s mad right?” asks Clara, her head making a small nod in Alexia’s direction, who suddenly feels like the worst person on earth.

Clara had woken up hurt in an unknown place, and what had she done except raise her voice at her and apparently scare her enough into becoming whatever this empty person in front of her seemed to be?

“Nena, nobody is mad at you, Alexia is just worried.” tries to explain Ingrid, her hand reaching for Clara’s.

But Clara retracts her hand from where it had been clutching the sheet, bringing it closer to her chest, as if Ingrid’s hand could hurt her, would hurt her. Her mind screaming at her to get away before she gets hurt again, before Ingrid leaves her behind.

Ingrid swears she can feel her heart breaking inside her chest seeing Clara flinch away from her, she looks at Mapi, distraught and not quite sure how she can help Clara without scaring her further.

The guilt momentarily overtaken by the need to care for the young girl now takes back control over her, stomach tightening into knots, she can feel bile rising in her throat at the possibility of Clara thinking that she’d hurt her.

“Why?” demands Clara “I’m completely fine aren’t I? My head feels fine, they already stitched me up, I’m sure they’ll let me out of here soon anyway!” she tells them, her voice raising along as she speaks, surely they understand that? She’s fine, has been for months, she can handle injuries, after all she’d been taking care of herself for months.

Mapi sighs, sitting in the chair next to her bed, hands resting on her thighs, taking a few small breaths before speaking “But it’s not just your head Nena isn’t it?” she’s posing the sentence as a question but they all know it’s more of an affirmation.

Clara tense as Mapi finishes her question, her eyes darting around the room as if she’s looking for a way out of the conversation, and if they’d looked at the monitor they would have seen her heart rate slowly raise as the conversation kept going.

“What do you mean? Of course it’s just my head, it’s the whole reason we’re here aren’t we?” Clara tries to affirm, but they can all hear the shakiness in her voice as Clara desperately tries to stay in control of the situation.

“Nena, we know.” says Alexia, voice firm, her expression tense. She’s done playing around with this issue, done pretending everything will be okay when none of them are sure it has even been okay to begin with.

Clara can feel her whole body tense up. She can hear her heart beat in her ears, almost drowning out the sounds around her, can feel the way her hands clench to the point she’s pretty sure her nails have cut the skin of her palms.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” asks Clara, defiance in her tone, if she has to go down, she’ll go down fighting. She’s done this whole dance routine before, she knows all about adults pretending to care only to leave when things get too real, too hard, too inconvenient to them.

She’s aware of their eyes on her, can see the tears in Ingrid’s eyes, can see the way Mapi looking at her, like she’s just a small, hurt, thing, it pisses her off, why do they pretend they care? She knows they don’t, no one has so far so why would they? But more importantly she’s fucking mad at Alexia, acting like she just knows everything when she knows nothing.

“How about you tell us about how you hurt your ribs?” Alexia’s eyebrows are raised, looking at her like she defying her to try and lie about it, Clara can see the exasperation in her eyes and somehow it makes her feel sick to her stomach.

“My ribs are fine. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” grits out Clara through clenched teeth, of course they hurt, she was pretty sure her father slamming her against the wall had been what caused the pain radiating in her side, but it had been manageable.

Alexia is stuck between wanting to wrap Clara in bubble wrap never letting her leave her sight and shaking the hell out of her. She contains her anger but can’t help the scoff that leaves her mouth.

“Try again, Clara. Fractured ribs aren’t fine.” she tries again from her position standing at the end of Clara’s bed with her hands on her hips.

Clara feels her heart stop in her chest before it starts back up thundering against her rib cage, her hands clutching into fists, she stares right back at Alexia as the monitor behind her start beeping loudly, alarming all the occupants of the room.

Alexia clenches her fists at her sides, guilt and frustration warring inside her. She wants to shake Clara, to make her understand they’re here for her but instead, her words come out sharper than she intended.

“That’s enough Alexia!” firmly exclaims Mapi “This isn’t helping her!”

“And letting her pretend everything is fine when she has been hiding being abused for weeks?” she snaps back at her, her eyes not leaving the teen’s own.

The world freezes. Clara hears the word abuse echo over and over, louder than the monitor, louder than her own heartbeat. Her vision blurs, her mind screaming to retreat, to block everything out—but instead, she forces herself to surface. To fight.

The others have been looking at her expectantly, waiting to see how she’ll answers Alexia’s words.

She choose the same path she always does when she’s confronted with the subject of her home life.

“Abuse?” she scoffs “And where did that crazy idea come from huh?” she continues

Even Mapi looks disappointed, they’d all hoped Clara would come clean, admit what she’d been going through, they remembered the agent words on abused children, but they thought, no, hoped, Clara would trust them enough with this, if not before then now.

“Clara” Ingrid speaks up “There’s no point hiding it anymore, we know okay? We know and we want to help you, please let us help you” there’s tears dripping out of her eyes as she holds eye contact with Clara, who’s looking back at her wide-eyed.

“I want my dad.” Clara’s voice trembles, rising to a pitch that makes the others freeze. She doesn’t know why she said it, only that the words feel like her last defense

The room falls silent, her words shocking everyone into stillness. Then Alexia speaks, her voice low, trembling with fury “He’s not coming anywhere near you, if we have anything to say about it.” Spits out Alexia through clenched teeth, trying to hide her shaking hands by holding onto the bed’s foot-board.

“He’s never coming close to you again” Alexia’s voice shakes, but her eyes stay locked on Clara. The guilt of her earlier anger still gnaws at her, but she channels it into conviction.

The monitor screams, and Clara erupts. “NO! LET GO OF ME! I WANT MY DAD! DAD, PLEASE!” She thrashes against the bed, tears streaming, her voice cracking with each desperate cry.

They all surround the bed, trying to get a hold of the crying teen whilst trying to keep their own tears at bay, hoping to stop her from aggravating her injuries.

Doctors flood the room, their voices sharp and urgent as they push the others aside. Alexia tries to argue, her voice cracking, but Mapi pulls her back. All they can do is watch from the hallway, the sound of Clara’s screams echoing in their ears until, mercifully, silence falls

The doctor came out of the room explained to them that Clara had to be sedated for her own good, that they couldn’t get the panic attack to stop and that the risk of worsening her injuries was too great.

They’re all told to leave for the night, to let her rest, that with the sedative she’s been given she’d sleep until the next day anyway, the doctor kindly recommends they get some sleep as well, that talks can wait till everyone is better rested and less on edge, before he leaves them standing there.

They leave, and go back to their home, all feeling emptier than ever. Everything they’d had hoped for ruined, they were left feeling like they had failed again.

Ingrid and Mapi go back to their apartment, foregoing food and showers, they just lay in each others arms, finally letting out all the anger, guilt and fear, out, through shaking sobs as they tried to keep the other from falling apart.

Alexia could have gone home to her apartment, gone back to Olga’s arms, but she’d drove straight to her mother’s house, knocking on her door before collapsing in her arms as soon as the door opened.

Her mother guided her to the couch before holding her tightly, rubbing her back as Alexia sobbed her feelings out, cried out her guilt, her failure.

They all wanted to help the teen, but would Clara let them?

As Clara laid on her hospital bed she’d asked herself the same question, woozy from the medication she realized she’d soon have to make a decision.

Her teammates or her father.