#my hand was bleeding so badly from wheeling and even with gloves it's still so tough and my hands get wet from the snow

[nuancefem]

i really have no choice and need to go to the store..... but i hurt my hand really badly while wheeling downtown, it hurts everytime i wheel..... but i need to go to the store for bun food & human food. and i can't afford to ubereats groceries or anything. i'm gonna be in some kind of dissociative trance from the pain the whole time i stg. but i gotta do this. and i'm so strong and brave. and i got this. and it'll be big ouchie and suck ass but i'm gonna get thru it and get food for my bunnies and they'll be so happy and it'll be so worth it. but it'll hurt. life is so wonderful but it also sucks so bad. but i got this. i got this.

[inagetawaycarxo]

In A Blink Of An Eye | Jay Halstead

❛❛ Local psycho running around breaks into Jay and yns house. Shes alone and he's just getting off work and comes home to find yn hurt really badly...you choose the ending; And connor takes care of her in the ER❜❜-IsaacLaheysAnchor

Pairings: Jay Halstead x Reader, Connor Rhodes x Reader (Ex fling)

Featuring: Jay Halstead, Y/n (Reader), Connor Rhodes, Unnamed Psycho, Maggie, April, Will Halstead, Unnamed nurse, Ava.

Summary: Jay comes home to find y/n all bloody and goes into panic mode.

WARNINGS: angst, jealous!Connor, worried!jay, worried!Connor, hospitals, blood, injured!reader, comfort, plot twists, errors.

Word Count:2591

A/N: Got a Jay Halstead or One Chicago request? Send it in!

The sound of a loud thud and the floor creaking made you look up from your book. Eyes going wide. Shaking in fear. You quietly put your book down, taking the throw rug off your legs as quietly as you can. Standing up quietly. Turning not to make a sound. You cautiously walked towards the kitchen. Grabbing a knife out of the knife block. Cringing at the sound as you took it out.

gulping as you walked out of the kitchen, peeping out behind the wall. You felt relief wash over you as you saw nothing there. Taking a step out from behind the wall. You felt a wave of courage as you took small steps. The knife held out in front of you. Heart rate increasing by the second.

You were so focused on in front of you that you didn’t realize something was sneaking up on you until it was too late.

You felt a strong grip on your hair. Squeezing their hand hard against the back of your head. Slamming your head against the wall hard. It startled you enough to let go of the knife. Making the knife fall to the ground.

They let out a deep grunt. Slamming your head against the wall again and again. They let go. Hastily Taking out a gun from the band of his jeans. You reach up to your forehead, feeling it is sticky with blood. Making you let out a whimper. Bringing your hand down to your eye level. You let out a whimper as you saw blood. Your head pounds.

You crane your neck towards your attacker. Giving them a pleading look. Lips trembling. Eyes welling up with tears. The guy pointed the gun at you. Making you shake in fear.

A tall, disheveled man looked down at you, with a sinister smile. Observing you.

“Please, don’t.” You begged. Scooting away from him.

He ignored your pleas. Lunging towards you, you quickly scrambled up. Only for him to grab a hold of your hair. Yanking you back to him. Then pushing your face into the ground. You tried to crawl away from him, but he grabbed a hold of your ankles. Pulling you back towards him. Rolling you over onto your back. He climbed on top of you.

You tried putting up a fight. Trying to grab his gun but to no avail. He elbowed you hard in the nose.  Making you gasp. He took the opportunity to shot you in the shoulder. A sharp pain shot up and down your arm. More tears pouring out of your eyes. Your vision blurring. He shot you, again and again, all in different places, your hands going up in defence. Trying to fight him off.

He kept going till you weren’t fighting him anymore. The pain as unbearable. Blood was covering your clothes. Your body spasming. Your blood was all over him, as well as the ground. He got up putting his gun away. He stood over you looking at you with a satisfied smile. While you just looked at him through glazed eyes. Your breathing labored. Your eyes getting heavy. The guy then turned away from you, leaving you to bleed out on the floor while he exited the home. Spots danced in your vision. Darkness soon surrounded you as your breathing got slower. Heartbeat pumping slowly. The sound of your phone ringing getting distant, as your body slowly shut down…

Jay let out a sigh, as he got into his truck. Putting the keys ignition. Turning the truck on. Blasting the heat, taking out his phone. Unlocking it. Jay tapped the phone icon app. Dialing your number. The sound of the phone ringing. Jay felt an unsettling feeling form in the pit of his stomach, as your voicemail played.

“Hey, babe, I’m coming home now, I will see you when I arrive.” Jay spoke. Ending the call. He looked down at his phone. Dread washing over him.

Something just didn’t sit right with him. You always picked your phone when he rang you. His eyebrows furrowed into confusion.

He quickly put his truck into gear. Putting his seatbelt on. Pressing his foot hard on the accelerator. Speeding out of the parking lot. Going through red lights.

His mind tried to think of excuses as to why you didn’t answer the phone. Maybe you were asleep or taking a nap. Or in the shower or binge-watching or lost in a book. The more he came up with excuses the more anxious he felt.

Jay quickly parked in front the of the house he shared with you. Turning the truck off, yanking the keys out of the ignition. Unbuckling the seatbelt. Getting out of the truck, he locked it in a rush. Rushing over to the front door. Unlocking the door in a hurry. He opened the door. Just as he walked through the threshold he stopped in his tracks. His heart plummeting to the pit of his stomach. Going pale, as he saw you lying limp on the floor. Blood staining your shirt as well as the floor around you.

Jay quickly rushed towards you.

“Babe.” He cried. Tears welling up in his eyes. His heart aching.

“No.” He sobbed. His body shaking with sobs.

“Y/n.” He gasped out. His hand shakingly extending towards your wrist, picking it up and trying to find a pulse, he felt his heartache, even more, when you couldn’t find one. He then moved his index and middle finger to your neck. Feeling slightly relieved when he found a pulse, but it was weak.

“It’s okay, baby, I’m going to take you to the hospital.” He cooed. Reassuring you, but himself more than you.

“Stay with me.” He pleaded as he slipped his left arm behind your knees, his right hand resting on your lower back. Pulling you towards his chest, as he cradled you to his chest. Standing up rushing out of the door. Shutting the door behind him. His eyes were on your face the entire time. his heart beating faster by the second. He felt like he was going to be sick. He couldn’t lose you.

Tears fell rapidly from his eyes, as he unlocked his truck, doing his best to open the backseat door near the driver’s side without dropping you.

“It’s going to be okay, your going to be okay.” He reassured you. Gently laying you on the backseat. He looked at you with a pained expression. Before closing the door and getting into the driver's side without hesitation.

He put the keys in the ignition, struggling to put them in since his hands were shaking. Cursing under his breath as he cried harder. He finally got them in. Turning the key, as the truck roared to life. Putting the truck into gear. He pressed his foot hard against the gas. Making the car speed off, not even bothering to put his seatbelt on. Speeding to Gaffney Chicago Medical Centre, breaking all the road rules. Looking at you in the rear-view mirror now and then. He wiped his tears away, but it was no use they still fell from his eyes.

Jay felt slight relief as he made it to Gaffney Chicago Medical Centre. Jay didn’t bother finding a park, he went straight to wear the ambulance park. Quickly opening the door and rushing to open the backseat door. Grabbing you gently. Carrying you to the emergency area.

“HELP.” He yelled desperately. April and Maggie looked up. Rushing over towards Jay who was holding a limp, bloody you.

“Baghdad.” Maggie instructed Jay. Jay rushed over. Putting you gently down on the gurney. Grabbing a hold of your hand, as Maggie hooked wires to you. While April cut your shirt open.

Jay stared at your chest and abdomen in horror. Lips trembling.

“Jay, you need to leave so we can help her.” April spoke. Giving him a sympathetic look. But Jay wasn’t listening to he kept staring

“Page Dr Rhodes.” Maggie spoke, as she continued to examine you. April nodded her head complying.

Will noticed the commotion happening. Coming over to his brother. His hand grabbing Jay’s shoulder. Giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Jay.” Will spoke. Looking at him with worry in his eyes. As they bagged you.

“She…” Jay barely gasped out.

Jay felt someone rush past him. Which happened to be Connor.

Connor felt his heart leap to his throat. His heart racing. He rushed over to you. Bumping into Jay in the process.

“Y/n.” Connor gasped, putting the disposable gloves on. Taking his stethoscope from around his neck. Putting the ear tips in his ear. Then putting the diaphragm in the middle of your chest.

“She’s been shot, multiple times, her pulse is weak, she isn’t responding.” April told him, as he listened to your heart pump slowly. This made him panic even more.

“Her hearts weak.” Connor sighed, taking the diaphragm away from your chest, and pulling the ear tips out of his ear. Putting the stethoscope around his neck.

“Let's do a scan, see if the bullets are still in there.” Connor ordered. Taking out his flashlight. Turning it on.

“Y/n, can you hear me?” Connor asked as he shone the light in your eyes. But you were unresponsive.  

“Dilated pupils.” He sighed. Feeling more dread wash over him. Connor took a step back, as April slid a black pad underneath you, another nurse tilting you, then gently putting you back down.

All of them looked anxiously at the screen. Maggie stroked your hair.

Connor felt like his heart was being squeezed way to tight. As he saw five bullets still in you one in your shoulder, two near your stomach, one near your abdomen and the other one slightly near your heart.

“She needs to go to the OR now.” Connor spoke.

Jay stared at the screen in horror. His face was ghostly white. He felt lightheaded.

“Oh my god.” He gasped out. As Connor, Maggie, April and a nurse pulled the rails up.

Will pulled Jay out of the way as they wheeled you out.

“They are going to help her.” Will reassured Jay, guiding him to the waiting room.

“They are going to save her.” Will spoke. As Jay sat in the seat. Will crouched in front of him.

Jay raised his hands in front of him. His body trembling as a sob left his lips. His hands were stained with your blood.

“It’s okay, Jay, hey look at me.” Will spoke. Putting his hands on Jay’s hands and putting them down.

Jay looked at his brother through tear-filled eyes.

“What if she dies?” Jay sobbed out.

“She won’t, she’s a fighter.” He reassured his brother.

“I can’t lose her. I don’t think I could survive losing her.” Jay sobbed. Will gave him a pained expression. Wrapping his arms around Jay and hugging him. This made Jay break down.

“I can’t.” He sobbed….

 Connor, Maggie, April and the nurse rolled you out of the elevator, rolling the gurney to an operating room.

Connor let go, going to scrub his hands. he heard the door open. Ava stormed in.

“You can’t treat her, you’re her ex.” She shouted. Making Connors jaw clench. He continued to scrub his hands.

“I’m the best option.” He spoke. Turning his head to look at Ava. She let out a sarcastic laugh.

“I’m her best choice, you’re her ex, what happens if you make a misjudgment, then what is her boyfriend going to think, that you did it out of spite because she is with Jay, not you.” Ava hissed out.

“You don’t know her as I do, you aren’t close to her, so yeah, I’m her best shot, and you're wasting my time and her time by talking.” Connor growled out. Moving towards the doors.

“Bastard.” She muttered to herself. As he turned his back to her. Opening the doors with his elbows…

“She should be out by, now right?” Jay asked his brother. Jay was pacing restlessly. While Will was sitting down. Jay’s eyes were red from crying. His cheeks stained with dried tears.

“I’ll go check.” He responded. Getting up. He gave Jay’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze when he walked past him.

Will got in the elevator. Going up. He exited the elevator going over to the desk.

“Have you seen Dr Rhodes?” Will asked the nurse at the desk.

“He’s over there.” she replied. Pointing her index finger to the room behind him. Will turned around to see Connor sitting next to you. Holding your hand to his lips. While you laid on the hospital bed asleep.

“Thanks.” He spoke. Walking over towards the room. Sliding the door open then close the door.

“So, where you going to tell Jay, she is out of surgery or were you just going to keep it from him? After all, she is his girlfriend.” Will spoke. Making Connor’s jaw clench. He untwined his fingers from yours. Delicately putting your hand down.

“She lost a lot of blood, I had to give her a blood transfusion, there were some complications during surgery, I nearly lost her. I had to put her in an induced coma.” Connor spoke, ignoring what Will said.

“She isn’t yours anymore Connor, you blew it.” Will spoke. Defending his brother.

“I know that.” Connor spoke. Standing up. His eyes were red from crying.

“I don’t think you do.” Will spoke again. Glaring at Connor.

“Have you ever thought that when she came in it affected me too? That I felt like I made a huge mistake letting her go. That the love of my life was dying.” Connor shouted. Fresh tears welling up in his eyes.

Will gave Connor a deadly glare. Connor let out a sniffle. Shaking his head.

“Jay can see her.” Connor spoke, as he gave you one last longing glance before leaving the room.

Will took out his phone. Sending Jay a quick text with the room and floor you were on. He would have gone and got him, but he didn’t trust Connor at the moment, not with what he saw.

Will looked up at you. An oxygen mask covering your mouth. The monitors showing your heart rate. Letting out a sigh. Just as he took a step, the door opened. Then shut. Will craned his neck seeing his disheveled brother.

Jay rushed over to you. Sitting on the chair Connor sat on. He grabbed ahold of your hand. Bringing it up towards his lips.

“My baby.” He sobbed. Kissing your hand repeatedly.

“She had to have a blood transfusion. She’s in an induced coma.” Will spoke. Making Jay cry.

“I promise you; I will find the person who did this to you.” He promised you. Looking at you as he kissed the back of your hand.

“I love you so much.” He sobbed.

“Please don’t die on me, please wake up.” He pleaded…...

[whump-town]

It’s A Wonderful Life

Part Two

I don’t know how I feel about this chapter but I’m putting it up and dealing with it later. I need to go study for my sociology test and get some coffee-- so, now it’s your problem

Warning: tw for suicide, major character death (IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK AT ALL)

Part One here

“Aaron!”

He’s flat on his back, a rickety old ceiling fan wobbling above him. The base sways back and forth as the blades turn. That has to be a hazard...

Two cold hands press to his cheeks, blonde strands of hair falling into his face. “Aaron,” his name comes out more urgently from her mouth. Those cold fingers tapping at his cheek, trying to rouse some sort of reaction out of him. He can’t. Can’t think of what to say. He just looks up at her. Haley. “Baby--”

He coughs, weakly craning his neck as the pain of his fall registers throughout the rest of his body. “Ah!” rolling onto his side, pulling his knees up, he groans at the sharp stabs of pain up his back. He clenches his jaw, a moment of sheer panic blinding him as he fails to recover from the feeling of having the wind knocked out of him. Unable to draw air into his shocked lungs.

Haley leans over him, moving to compensate for his pained struggle. Her fingers probe along the back of his head wincing in sympathy when she finds blood and he whimpers, weakly pulling from her touch. “What were you doing?” she asks, smoothing down the hair on the back of his neck. Trying to offer some comfort.

He can’t remember anything before the fan.

“Maybe--” she smiles down at him but he can see she’s just trying to look assured. His head is turned into her palm, Aaron having slowly curled into her. Trying to compress himself, needing to feel that she’s really here. “Maybe you should go to the hospital? You’re bleeding--”

He aims to shake his head but ends up grunting, blinded by the pain that mistake shoots up the base of his neck. “No,” he whispers, trembling hand coming up to blindly touch her. She catches his hand, folding his fingers within her own and pressing them down. Holding him still. “No,” he manages, a little more assured. “I’m--I’m okay.”

Blinking, a cold sweat breaking out across his face he shifts a numb arm underneath him. Biting down to keep himself from making a sound as he eases him up. Attempting to sit up quickly dispels what he thought was a fact for fiction. His eyes roll back, white cold pain eating up his skin.

“Aaron,” she calls frantically.

The color of his naturally pale cheeks drains and sways for a moment, the color drained from his body. “I’m-- I’m--” he squeezes his eyes shut, forcing his breathing to calm. He’s taken far worse hits than this. This is nothing. Fingernails digging sharp pain into his palms is grounding and slowly he opens his eyes and the living doesn’t spin. Everything is still, if not hazy.

“I’m okay,” he breathes.

I’m okay.

smoke burns his nose, his vision too poor to see past the steering wheel, past the spiderwebbed glass right in front of him

crying, strained screaming-- he can’t tell where the sound is coming from

his chest aches, stomach twisting with each pitched, nearly choked inhale of--

Jack.

Jack is screaming, little feet kicking hard and solidly as his chair

he has to get to--

“Aaron?”

He’s looking down at the carpet, confused but… It’s gone. The vision, his vision, is swimming dangerously and he weakly manages to place a hand on the carpet beneath him. Leaning onto it, as he tries to ground himself. “Sorry,” he rasps, swallowing down the fear that itches at the back of his throat. “Sorry, I just…” he went somewhere else. He’s not sure what happened but something feels incredibly wrong about this, about here.

Haley’s hand comes to rest between his shoulder blades, gently rubbing. “Let me make you some tea,” she offers.

Tea. No one can make tea like Haley. “Yeah,” he agrees. Just thinking about it calms him. “Please?”

She nods, pressing a kiss to his temple. As she steps around him she pulls a blanket off the couch, settling it over his shoulders. “Stay here,” she asks, brushing the back of her hand across his cheek. “I don’t want you to fall again.” He can feel her hesitancy, she doesn’t want to leave him by himself.

He doesn’t get up, he’s not even sure his legs will hold him, but he does manage to scoot himself across the carpet until he can lean against the couch behind him. The cushions are old, they give easily against him but he loves this old couch. Haley’s parents had given it to them when they moved away. It had been his bed many a night in their tiny hometown. This old couch has cured many of his ailments.

It sat in the spare room of Haley’s childhood home. An off to the side, usually shut room full of old but loved things from Haley and Jessica’s childhood. Including the beat-to-hell sofa her parents didn’t have the heart to throw out-- plus they’re southern and the couch wasn’t falling apart so it still had a use.

Every night he crawled home to them, he’d find himself lovingly tucked in on it.

He finds himself nodding off, head leaning into the sunken cushions. The whistle of the kettle startling him slightly. It makes his pulse jump, vision swimming. “Haley?”

sirens

a hand, padded by thick gloves wrap around the base of his neck

“easy, just hold still. you’re okay”

he glances as far as he can to his left, out the door to asphalt

he can see Jack, his happy little hands, rocking back and forth on his feet

“J…” his tongue heavy, body sinking

“stay with me”

“Aaron?” Haley’s squatting down over him, her cold hands cupping his head. “Baby, you’re scaring me.”

He’s scaring himself.

She slides down next to him, throwing her legs over his so she can sit close. “Are you sure we shouldn’t go to the hospital?” Pulling the edges of the blanket back around him, she frowns when he leans against her. Tiredly just deflating until he’s limply laying with his head under her chin.

“I’m okay,” he whispers. His head is really starting to hurt. “I just… I think I need to lay down.”

Haley looks unconvinced but caves, nodding her. “Please let me help you?”

He’s not sure he can do it otherwise.

His feet drag on the carpet, nearly unable to lift them to move properly. There’s this chill he can’t fight, leaving him shaking as Haley holds them welded together. The bed, impossibly soft, as he sinks down is cold with their absence. He goes limply down, not fighting Haley as she tucks the thick comforter around him.

She crawls in after him.

He finally relaxes. The comfort of familiarity soothing his nerves. Haley’s arm over his chest, head on his shoulder is just as things should be. Closing his eyes, he lets sleep consume him. He needs it so badly. He can’t get warm, squirming, and trying to curl into himself to get some sort of warmth. No matter how hard he tries, he just can’t rest.

He turns over searching the nightstand for a clock but there are none. He frowns, sitting up. Tossing the blanket off his legs he gets up. Unable to see the time, he needs to go figure it out. He has to make oatmeal, get the day going. His every day revolves around a strictly held schedule. A maybe concussion doesn’t warrant straying from that.

“What are you doing?”

“I was looking for--” Jack. Aaron realizes where he is. He feels sick. There is no Jack. Not yet. This fantasy of his has no Jack. He swallows thickly and turns back around, shaking his head. He goes back to the bed. “Most have been dreaming,” he whispers, fighting to keep his emotions from getting the best of him.

He can’t remember having Jack. This boy, a whole child that he can visualize, is nothing more than a concept. They have no children.

He can’t sleep after that.

-----

“Let’s got out.”

He wakes, startles, alone in bed. Painful goosebumps have raised over his skin, shivering he squints up at her. She’s in the same clothes as yesterday, a fast that strikes him as odd. He can’t remember her changing her clothes yesterday either before they’d gone to bed. Yet, her hair is clean and swept back into a low ponytail. She looks happy.

“Out?” he asks. Sitting up, he self-consciously runs his hand through his hair. Taming what he knows is a rat’s nest. “Out-- Out where?” He tries so hard to rub the sleep from his eyes, aware of the fact that he’s gotten just enough sleep to wear him down more. Pulling himself out from under the sheets he glares down at his own body, he’s dressed too. They’d gone to bed in their clothes…

She sits down on the edge with him, taking his left hand. “For coffee,” she says with a smile. “You know that little bookshop just downtown? They put in a coffee bar! It’ll be fun. Come on, we can get a coffee and search the shelves. I know you finished the last one you got.” She smiles assuredly, rubbing at his arm but she’s so cold that she does nothing to abate his shivering.

“Coffee,” he repeats. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “Yeah, coffee sounds good.”

His stomach aches as they go. Twisted and acidic, he feels like he’s going to be sick but it’s not nausea. Disenfranchisement. Like he’s somewhere he shouldn’t be.

“The normal?” Haley asks as they step into the shop. He nods, regardless of not being able to conjure up what his “normal” is. She lets go of his hand and he drifts, ghosting across the old, dust-caked carpet. He doesn’t know where he’s going, he’s just guided by the undertoned scent of the old books.

The crime section-- novels covered in deeps seas of black highlighted to catch the eye with the harrowing shifts to crimson-- is where he finds himself. Deja vu. Ted Bundy. Ed Gein. He knows these men far more intimately than he feels the novels he briefly skims through do. He slides one of the books back, grimacing at the tone. The baroque, vulgarity of it unsettling him. Some people just don’t have any business dealing with sensitive things like this.

He hovers over a copy of a book--

FBI Novelist David Rossi

The words are crimson, meant to catch your eyes.

He looks over his shoulder, stomach twisting like he’s afraid to be caught doing something he’d convinced maybe he shouldn’t be doing. He opens the first page, swallowing thickly at the dedication. To the footnote for the author Agent Rossi and his untimely demise--

Haley appears to his left, smiling when she sees him. “Whatcha got?”

He takes the coffee she offers out to him-- he glares at the cup but doesn’t comment. He can’t feel the warmth that should be pouring out of it. “Uhm…” he shows her the back. To the picture of the agent, unsure of how to ask what’s on his mind. Hotch turns the book over in his hand, an immense pressure building in his chest. Anxiety making him jittery. “I-- I thought… I thought he was--” he looks to Haley, mouth parted as he fails to draw these connections that he knows, intuitively, that he should have the knowledge to understand.

Haley turns the book, manipulating his hold to face the book to her so she can really see what it is that he’d got. “Oh God,” she whispers, sadly. “Don’t you remember that bombing?” She shakes her head, “it killed all those agents. You were furious, I’m surprised you don’t remember.”

But, suddenly, he does. It’s such a graphic memory that it feels more like… it feels fake with its intensity. He knows, though. His face hot, knees anxiously drumming as he sat precariously on the edge of the couch. Watching on hesitant, nervous breathes as the news spread steady, if not a bit misleading information on a bombing. He’d seen them. Sat there all day watching them add people’s names to a growing list of the dead.

“It’s written by that David Rossi guy,” Haley says. “You’d probably like it.”

He nods, dejectedly opening the cover. The book is dedicated to Rossi, a small note thanking him for his service to the country and his insights with the FBI. He thumbs through it a little more, nearly morbidly curious for what he might find. Scanning the words, waiting for something to strike him.

He nearly drops it, unable to breathe as he takes in something he can’t imagine.

In the months after the bombing, I reached out to the remaining members of the elite Behavior Analysis Unit (Behavioral Science when I founded it some nearly thirty years earlier with my now deceased ex-partner Jason Gideon). Derek Morgan, now the only profiler left of Jason’s team, was hesitant to continue any prolonged contact with me. I suspected his reliance having to do with the perseverance of Jason’s memory. After Agent Spencer Reid’s suicide, only a matter of weeks after the bombing, any contact I had with Agent Morgan ended. The Bureau has no comment on what lead the young genius to suicide.

“Oh,” Haley whispers sadly. “That’s so sad.”

He can’t breathe.

“Do you think he had PTSD?”

He roughly pushes the book back where he found it. His left hand coming to rub at his head.

“Aaron?”

That’s not how that ends. That’s not how any of that happened.

The day that Jason Gideon made that call in Boston Aaron been standing right beside him. Reid had been sent back to a local precinct with busywork to calm down. He was a new recruit and, rightfully, had no business even being in the field with them let alone in a situation like that. It had been him, his decision to pull Reid.

He remembers the feeling of the heat hitting his body.

The shrapnel wounds impeding his ability to stand so he’d dragged himself ten feet to safety where he’d passed out. Having no memory of what happened a week later and years after the fact he still can’t actually tell you what happened other than to repeat back what he’s been told.

“Let’s go home,” Haley slips her hand into his.

He nods, eyes unfocused as he follows blankly where she guides him. Chest tight, hands trembling weakly he realizes this must be some fucked joke. Revenge? A test? He’s done. He doesn’t want to play this game anymore. It’s tantalizing and demeaning and so overwhelming. Is this within his control and if it is can he stop?

He wants to stay here with Haley.

“What--What about--” he’s worked himself into such a state that he’s shaking. Unable to speak properly as finds himself desperately asking, “what about kids?”

Haley winces, shaking her head. “No,” she says. “I don’t think I can do it. I don’t want any.”

No Jack.

“I think,” his voice is rasped whisper. “I think I need to lie down.”

Haley’s face falls, “ok. I’ll come with you.”

She holds his hand, whispering soft questions but he’s… gone. Hardly there at all, unable to even focus on the worried tone of her words. Asking if his head hurts or if he’d like some tea or something to eat. He just needs to lay down and eventually, she gives up and lets him.

Somberly, she lays down beside him. The bed sinks with her weight but she already feels too far away.

He can feel the weight of his chest deepening, each inhales a little shorter. “Haley,” he calls, hand searching blindly across their bedsheet for her. He finds her, skin chilled, but there. “I’m sorry.” Though she curls around him, wrapping an arm up around his back and pressing their hips close-- her contact does not abate his shivering. She can not comfort him.

“You have nothing to apologize for, darling.”

[stardancerluv]

Winter in Gotham Turns Frigid

Part 2

Summary: Roman takes care of things.

Warning: a few deaths, implied torture/face peeling, this is the same doctor for all the times a “doctor” is needed.

Roman would have to be careful. This animal had done something to you. How badly he could not tell.

“What do you want?”

“Your position.” His lips curled into a wet smirk. “Your girl. She’s a hot little thing.”

Roman glanced down at you and he swallowed. He was just going to act. He drew closer.

“I told you to not come any closer.”

Inhaling, Roman walked closer. He got closer and then closer still. The man backed up. He reached into his jacket and took his gun. Exhaling, he aimed and pulled the trigger.

A scream ripped through the silence of the docks. The bullet hit him square in the chest and he was dead before he hit the cement floor.

A smile curled his lips as he closed the distance and the man’s lifeless eyes stared skyward. He tucked his gun away. Kneeling down beside you, his blood pounded in his ears. He tried to inspect where the blood clotted in your hair. A soft whimper came from you.

“It will be alright.” He whispered. “Zsasz, call the fucking doctor and tell him to come to the penthouse.” He yelled.

“Boss?”

“What?” He roared and his man took a step back.

“What about them?”

He looked up and smiled slowly. “Make them suffer but keep the silent one alive. I’ll come back for him later.”

The man nodded and returned the smile. “With pleasure.” The man then walked away.

Roman turned his attention back to you. He brushed some hair from your face, your eyes fluttered open. Confusion and pain clouded them. He gave you a sad look. “It will be alright baby, I’m about to pick you up.” He whispered. “We need to get you looked at.”

“You’re ok. What happened?” You replied, your voice sounded scratchy, hollow even.

“I took care of things baby. Save your strength.”

“The doctor is on his way over.” Zsasz, looked at Roman and then you. “Y/N, are you ok?”

You nodded, but he watched as you sharply winced. Roman gave him a look. Zsasz then remained quiet.

Roman took you in his arms, he began to walk out the rolls. Zsasz went ahead of him.

“Fuck.” Zsasz muttered.

“What now?” Roman exhaled, then he saw. “Fucking coward shooting him in the back of the head.”

Zsasz opened the Roll’s door and moving with Roman, got you and him into the car.

Before getting behind the wheel, he watched as Zsasz sent a message. He rose an eyebrow when he finally got into the car.

Zsasz met his eyes in the rear view mirror. “Told them that Michael is out here.”

Roman nodded. “Did he have anyone?”

Zsasz shrugged. “A girlfriend.”

“Clean up that loose end. Lead her to believe he left her to work for me in Italy.”

Zsasz scratched the back of his head. “Sure thing boss.”

*****

Your blood seeped through his slacks. He traced his gloves fingers along your cheek. You were so pale. Tears streamed from your eyes, he took his handkerchief and dabbed at them.

“It will be alright.”

Not able to take it, Roman looked past Zsasz’s head. He would need to tighten security, they had gotten to you. He could care less about Michael, he could always find another driver.

******

Zsasz ran ahead of him. Roman watched as he came back and grabbed a dish towel and placed it across a pillow. “Yeah. We will put you here.” He gave you a warm smile.

He was about to pour himself a drink when you grabbed his hand. “Roman, please don’t leave me.”

“Ok, I won’t.” He found a place beside you on the sofa. He felt like it was becoming harder to breathe. Where was the damn doctor, should have been here already.

*******

He leaned against his bar and watched the two of you. His anger was in a sharp burn. Every wince and sound of pain you made fueled his anger. The scotch he sipped at did little to lessen it.

“Sit down Roman. Let me look at you.”

He had been so distracted, he hadn't seen his approach. “I’m fine. This is all Y/N’s blood.”

The doctor shook his head. “Damn scalp wounds they bleed horribly.”

Roman poured him a drink, he slid it over to him.

“I’m working.”

Roman, rose an eyebrow.

“All right.” He took a sip and sighed. “You always have one of my favorites on hand.”

“It helps that you have good taste.”

Their glances met and a dark chuckle was shared.

Roman sighed. “Will she be alright?”

“She will be. He gave her a wallop but she doesn’t have a concussion.” He took another sip. “He didn’t hit her enough to need staples.”

“Good.” Roman glanced over at you. Your eyes were closed. “Does she need anything?”

“Rest. I just gave her something for the pain, it will also help her sleep right now, she needs it.”

“For how long?” Roman looked at him over his glass as he sipped his own scotch.

The man shrugged. “Luckily, he didn’t really do much damage, so it shouldn’t take too long to heal. In week, I’d like to check on her. I’ll give you a call.”

“Sounds good.” Roman took a sip.

The man nodded. “You heading back there?”

Roman nodded. “Then make them suffer for what he did to her.”

Roman smiled. “Good taste and good advice.”

*******

Roman decided to change later. Why ruin another suit or gloves over these assholes. With his anger still brimming just under the surface, he strode back into the warehouse.

He saw that the faces of the other two were gone. “Good work.” He nodded at his men that cleared away from the third.

He looked him over, the man was bruised and bloodied but otherwise appeared intact.

“Hello. Have anything to say?” He went over and grabbed the man by his hair and ripped off the duct tape.

@darling-i-read-it @spn-obsessed-dean @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @ewanfuckingmcgregor @zodiyack @angel98624 @frenchgirlinlondon @emyliabernstein @thepeachreads @nebulastarr @itsknife2meetu @omghappilyuniquebouquetlove @poe-kadot26 @babydoll97-blog1 @hazel-nuss @vcat55 @feelthemadnessinside @johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @starwarsslytherin @professionalclown @chogisss @shantellorraine @xxinvisiblexx @blondekel77 @saphic-susperia @drarrylov3r @i-cant-hear-you16 @deadlymistress24 @yesqueenofthelight @generallj @thebeckyjolene @captainjacklynmarie

[holylulusworld]

Past

Summary: Dean finds his perfect mate, only for her to run away from him. When Sam calls her after their last encounter she needs to decide to let her mate die or come to his rescue.

Request: May I request an ABO fic where Dean finds his perfect Omega but she rejects his advances at every turn until he triggers her heat with his rut making him her true mate and even when she's claimed she rejects him for a bit making him go feral until Sam snaps her out of her fear? (you can make up why she's scared). love you, hun!

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam x Omega!Sarah Blake, vamps

Warnings: angst, unrequited feelings, true mates, ABO, ABO dynamics, mentions of abusive past/sexual assault/non-con claiming, physical and mental abuse (nothing graphic)

A/N: Omega!Sarah Blake is the Sarah Blake from the show, but in a different role

Runaway Mate Masterlist

Funny how your past is catching up with you, tries to break you with little reminders.

While you watch Dean sit in his car to wait for his brother you let your eyes wander over it. He had a classic car too, but it didn’t look like Dean’s. 

It was dirty, rusty and you hated to sit in it but seeing the Impala made you think of him and you felt pain shoot through the scar at your neck.

You know it’s impossible, you know there is no way he can be here, can go after you but still, your heart is racing. 

With shaking fingers, you dial Sarah’s number to hear a familiar voice but for the first time, she doesn’t answer.

Dialing her number again you get up from the steps in front of your room and Dean is alerted. Your heart beats fast enough to jump out of your chest as you dial her number for the third time.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Shaking you look at Dean as he gets out of the car to run toward you. “Y/N, talk to me, Sweetheart.”

“I…we have an emergency signal or rather we always answer our phone, no matter what we do at the third signal, Dean. I dialed her number three times, but Sarah does not answer.” 

Your voice trembles and for the first time, Dean can see the vulnerable and scared Omega shine through. 

“Okay, tell me where she wanted to go to. We will check there first and Sam can try to trace her phone.” Dean runs toward his car, dialing his brothers’ number as you try to reach your friend once again.

Black…everything is black before the pain wakes Sam from the darkness. He can smell blood, dirt, and fear as he tries to blink his eyes open.

“You’re awake…” Coughing a young woman looks at him, fighting the shackles holding her to the ground. 

“You’re a hunter too, I assume, just like the girl over there. She told me to remain calm, but they knocked her out as she refused to tell them anything about someone called Y/N.”

Sam’s eyes wander toward Sarah. He can see blood running down her forehead, but she’s breathing. 

While the skilled hunter scans the room he recognizes two things, his shackles will not hold him for long and the girl looking at Sarah’s bleeding wound is a vampire.

“She told you…” Sam’s eyes are trained on your friend to make sure she’s still breathing.

While the vampire studies Sam’s stoic face the hunter tries fumble with the shackles, already picking the lock holding the chains.

“The hunter, she’s right. You should remain calm and we will find a way out of here.”

“I am so scared.” The vamp’s eyes dart between Sam and Sarah. She knows the moment your friend wakes up she will warn the way stronger hunter and Winchesters are know for not dying that easily. “What can we do?”

“Do you know what they want and who they are?” While the vamp looks at Sarah once again Sam let the chains around his hand slip off his wrists to silently place them behind his back. His feet are still bound but if must, he can take the vamp down.

“I don’t know anything, Sir. They came in here, hit the girl and asked her about the other woman. She refused to answer and then they left.”

Sniffling the vampire looks at Sam. She plays her role well, Sam gives her that, but he is not an easy victim to her sob story. 

“Was that before or after they brought me here?” Searching the girl's face Sam fumbles the syringe with the blood of the dead out of his back pocket. “What’s your name?”

Maggie and it was before they brought you here. She was out cold when two large guys dragged you in and dropped you.” Nodding Sam waits for the perfect moment.

“How long are you here?” While the vamp looks at Sarah steering in her sleep Sam strikes. The syringe bores into the girl’s neck and she screams in pain.

“Hey…are you wake?” Watching your friend Sam frantically searches for the key to his chains. “I am a hunter too. My name is Sam, Sam Winchester and I know Y/N. We met during a hunt.” 

“Sammy doesn’t answer his phone…” Slamming his hands onto the steering wheel Dean curses. “This is not a coincident, Y/N. Sam and your friend disappearing at the same time in the same town.”

“I am sorry, Dean. I guess she found me before I had the chance to take her down.” Blinking a few times, you look out of the window. “Or rather them…”

“Them…” Glancing at you Dean stops the car. “What are you not telling me, Y/N? I know you are after mama for a reason but so far, I didn’t ask. If Sam is in danger, I need to know everything.”

“You know I can’t tell about my past, it’s better this way. No one ever wanted to hear my side of the story. For everyone, I was an aggressive Omega not wanting to submit.” Voice bitter you dial Sarah’s number once again. “Every Alpha chose their side…”

“Well, I am not every Alpha not even close.” Giving you a soft smile Dean looks at you. 

“Listen, I know you don’t want to talk about what happened to you. I would never force you to tell me. I have a huge package I carry with me too, Sweetheart, but we are running out of time here.”

“Mama…she’s…” Looking at Dean you search his soft eyes. “I would need to explain everything, but this would take us hours and as you said, we are running out of time, Dean.”

“Just the highlights then. You can leave everything out we do not need to save Sam and your friend, Y/N.” You hesitate, nibble at your lower lip as Dean starts the engine. “Fine, Y/N. I’ll tell you something about me first.”

Dean’s grip on the steering wheel tightens as he starts talking. “I sold my soul to save my brother. I was in hell for 40 years and one day, I broke and started to torture souls too. When I came back I had nightmares, I still have sometimes…”

Surprised by Dean’s honesty you look at him, really look at him and you can see the broken boy behind the tough hunter façade. 

“I lost everyone, Y/N. Mom, Dad, Bobby - anyone I ever liked died or left me except for Sammy, and he just doesn’t know better…” Huffing you try to swallow the lump in your throat as you look at anything but Dean. 

“At the beginning, I thought it’s my fate as an Omega. I believed that I just need to get used to that someone rules my life, tells me what to do or leave but slowly, I doubted being an Omega means what my life became.”

Dean’s heart clenches in his chest hearing the hurting in your voice. He wants to say something, wants to soothe the pain but he knows you are not ready to let him help you.

“All I can tell you is that one night, he tried to kill me, and I fought him. It ended badly…for him.” Your face is stoic, but your voice betrays you. 

“I get it, Y/N. He was a monster but what I don’t understand is that you hate all Alpha’s only as one treated you badly. This is no excuse for his behavior or what he did to you, tho…” 

Dean dials Sam’s number again, still ending on his brother’s mailbox he tosses the phone into the glove department.

“One Alpha…” Laughing bitterly you glance at Dean. “It started with my brother and father selling me to this monster. Or rather making a deal to rise in the ranks.”

“Y/N…” Gasping Dean tries to remain calm but the anger welling up is untamable. “I am so sorry.”

“I trusted them with my life. Till that day, they protected me, made sure no one ever hurts me. My father, he never treated my mother like she’s not equal as she’s an Omega and then one day…”

Snapping your fingers you look at Dean. “Poof, the gentle and caring family was gone.”

“I…” Voice cracking Dean blinks the tears away. 

“At first, he was nice. Asking me about hobbies and shit but then he…” Sniffling you look away. Rather concentrate on the trees passing by than Dean’s sad face. “He forced his mark on my neck and everything else too…”

“Omega…” A low whine leaves Dean’s lips as he gives you side-glances. He can see the tremble of your hands and the pain tightening your chest.

“When he was done, he left for days or weeks and I prayed he won’t come back. Every. Single. Time.” Dean’s eyes drift toward you occasionally while you keep on talking. “One night, he…he crossed another line, or rather wanted to and I lashed out.”

“I won’t ask what he tried to do…”

“I was able to avoid getting pregnant and he assumed, I am infertile, Dean. That night he brought a young girl into our home or rather my prison. I saw the fear in her eyes and just knew, he would force her too…” 

Sniffling you wipe the tears away. “I tried to call the cops, told them what my Alpha is about to do but…” Laughing bitterly you shrug. 

“None of the Alpha’s believed you,” Dean asks and you shake your head.

“Oh, they believed me, Dean. But they laughed about me and congratulated my Alpha on his decision to get a younger mate.”

“Bastards…” Slamming his hands onto the steering wheel Dean curses. “They should’ve stormed the house. I would’ve done so…”

“I hung up and felt his hands on me. I…I reacted instinctively and pushed him away for the first time, I found the strength to fight back, because of the girl I had to protect. He tried to strangle me, but I was faster.”

There’s a hint of pride in your voice and Dean smirks as you tell him you ran into the kitchen and stabbed him with the cheese knife.

“He ended like a tiny mouse. Begged for his life, Dean and I knew he wasn’t the powerful Alpha I thought he was.” 

“What has mama to do with all of this?” Your eyes meet Dean’s and you know you must tell him everything to save your friend.

“She’s his mother. Her grief about the loss of her perfect Alpha son and the hatred she always harbored toward me forced her to look for a way to kill me.” 

Your features darken as you look at the world outside passing by. “I wasn’t the young and vulnerable eighteen years old girl they threw into the lion’s den. I am a strong and trained hunter, Dean. I killed two of her pack members when they tried to get hold of me.”

“And she did what?” 

“I was not easy to take down, so she thought making her pack stronger would stop me, would bring me down but…” Smirking you give Dean a wink. 

“I was a hunter and knew how to take vamps down. Mama tries to create a new and larger family, but I won’t give her the chance to do so. I will hunt her and every single member of her sick family down.”

“Why did she turn the girl if she supported her son’s abuse?”

“Mama, or rather Delilah believed I lied. I tried to tell her more than once that her son is a monster but she didn’t listen. Mama is after me believing I killed her gentle and caring son.” 

“I will open the door and we will have to fight our way through. I think someone called mama is after us as she wants to get hold of your friend.”

“Mama…shit.” Sarah tries to follow Sam but she still feels dizzy and needs to press her body against the wall. When Sam wants to help she flinches away. “I can follow you, Sam.”

“I didn’t want to cross a line. I just wanted to help you. You’re injured, stay behind me no matter what. A friend of Y/N is a friend of the Winchesters…” Sam silently opens the door only to step into a sewer.

“You are a friend of Y/N?” Not believing Sam your friend eyes him suspiciously. 

“I said she’s a friend, not Y/N sees me as one. I know she has problems trusting Alpha’s, but right now we need to help each other and find my brother and your friend. Dean is with Y/N and I hope he’s on his way as I assume we are running into a whole nest of vamps without any weapon…”

Runaway Mate Tags

@webcraft4eveh, @supernatural3002

SPN Forever Tags

@donnaintx, @screechingartisancashbailiff, @fallen-wolf22, @sister-winchesters99, @mogaruke, @the-is13, @helloitsmeamie203, @sandlee44, @strayrosesbloom, @notyourtypicalrose, @thewinchesterco, @marvelfansworld @hobby27, @gh0stgurl, @flamencodiva, @jay-and-dean, @voltage-my2dlove, @spnhollis, @chonisberonica, @wittysunflower, @supernaturalenchanted, @shikshinkwon, @yolobloggers, @hhiggs, @laxe-from-outer-space, @ilovefanfic86, @linki-locks11, @eggingamazinglove, @trumpettay, @fandom-imagines1, @thenamelesschibi, @waywardbaby, @straycuties9, @drakelover78, @stuckys-whore, @zxph-yr, @i-love-superhero, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt, @deepmuffinspymaker, @katsav17, @heyitscam99, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @neii3n, @exo-nova, @cocklesbelli, @echoesofpassion, @lauravic, @shatteredabby, @deanmonandnegansbitch, @sea040561, @lemondropirwin, @lonewolf471, @wronglanemendes, @juniorhuntersam, @helpmeluci, @goodgodimaweirdperson, @shadowkat-83, @alltimesamantha, @officialmarvelwhore, @meganywinchester, @miraclesoflove, @maniacproffesor, @hollymac79, @kayla-2000, @gracefultrenchcoat494, @babygirls-fav, @spnwoman, @amiquette, @alexoloughlinlover32, @geekofmanyforms, @jessica-marsh09, @spnficgirl, @shut-themoonscone, @thequeenreaders, @countrygal17a, @atomicfandombomb, @kteelou, @soryuwifeyxx, @defenderrosetyler, @shortwinchester, @maybesomedaygayyyy, @tmiships4life, @sabascio, @that-place-called-middle-earth, @the-broken-angel-13, @bunnybaby89, @pandabiiissh, @maddiedott, @lilulo-12, @theoneandonlymelol, @mblaqgi, @clawsandshotguns, @justsomedreaming​, @cassiopeia-barrow, @its-the-timey-wimey-winchesters​, @mscarter213​, @jo-like-josette​, @mep6811​, @prettydeaneyes​, @rvgrsbrns​, @deanwanddamons​, @tearsforhan​, @skittlebittz​, @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel​ @belovedcherry​

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags   

@spnfamily-j2​, @supernatural-bellawinchester​, @negans-lucille-tblr​, @deans-baby-momma​, @thefaithfulwriter​, @squirrelnotsam​, @roonyxx​, @neerness​, @deansgirl-1968​, @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​, @butifulsoul125​, @lyinginthegingerlocks​, @20gayneen​, @janicho88​, @woodworthti666​, @thevelvetseries​, @dreaminemz​, @akshi8278​, @midnightsilver16830​, @mrspeacem1nusone​, @ria132love​, @caligraphee​, @the-witch-in-silence​, @justanotherwinchester​, @multisuperfandom​, @jason-todd-squad​, @jadesupernatural​, @psychicforest​, @luciathewinchestergirl​, @magssteenkamp​, @palefiregiver​, @tranquility-or-chaos​, @jxackles​, @michellemxndes​, @addictedtofictionalcharacters​, @gabifernandessn​, @waywardrose13​

[austennerdita2533]

A/N: Hey @commonxcrimminals​ remember that Melendaire Fix-It-Of-Sorts fic I’ve had on my computer since freaking MARCH?? Well...I finally finished it!  CAN YOU BELIEVE. Anyway, were it not for your oodles of encouragement or our constant why-did-Melendez-have-to-die wailing sessions on every social media platform out there, I probably never would’ve summoned the gall to finish or post the darn thing. So thank you!

This one is dedicated to you, my friend. Love you more than I can possibly convey! ❤️ ❤️

Summary: When it comes to moments of life or death, Neil and Claire learn sometimes one defibrillation of the heart can reset everything.

Also here: (A03)

Enjoy! xx

Defibrillation

The sirens start, red and blue lights cutting through the darkness with speed. Neil’s strapped to a gurney, conscious but barely, with tubes and leads sticking from him like he’s part machine while his eyes fixate on the gray-white swirl of the ceiling.

What’s happened? Where is he? Why the hell does he hurt so much? Right now the blunt ache over his left temple is a trifle compared to the scalpel-like shard that’s been stabbing through his abdomen every two to four seconds and has nausea roaring into the back of his throat with each bump, with each gloved touch that ghosts over his prone form in examination, his vision dotted and blurred and fading…

It’s fading quickly…

…yes…

…f-fading…

…so…q u i c k…ly…

Monitors beep in the background. Softly at first, then louder. Faster. Shorter. Quieter. Steadily the screens track his stats before diving into erratic nonsense that can’t be pieced together as his fists curl into the sheet beneath him, knuckles bumping against a metal railing.

Neil’s eyelids burn, they grow heavy. All he tastes is blood and bile. A mask hangs over his mouth so he can’t talk, can’t call out either, the oxygen cool as it filters through his nostrils, little hairs tickling. He winces once, takes another shallow breath in—and then nothing.

Blackness pops. Noiseless but everywhere. Like a falling curtain, it frays the edges of the world until he can no longer see them.

Coldness slams like a hammer over his chest, pouring, rippling, spreading out with tendrils to invade cell after cell until before he knows it he’s drifting away from time and thoughts and oxygen that won’t hold steady…He’s sinking down, down, down into a rigid stillness that refuses to lift.

But then—

A flurry of movement to his right. Behind his head. Next comes a lot of pronounced clunking, swearing, whispering; perhaps even some harried tearing or unzipping.

No, no, no. Stay with me, pleads a familiar voice from above him in echo. With his head spinning with delirium, however, he’s unable to place who is speaking.

Come on, Neil. Don’t do this, not now. Hold on for me.

He feels distant, detached, like he’s been sunk under water but never went swimming.

Hold on for me, the voice repeats again. Please.

The words are wet and desperate as they land on his chest with two hands that push, and push, his eyes slitting open just wide enough for Claire’s face to float into focus for a moment then out again like a dream, the heel of her palm pounding into him with the force of a tether to keep him there with her, alive, stable - one breath, one blink, one heartbeat at a time.

The fleeting sight of her brings him back. Hair. Scrubs. Hands. Eyes. She brings him back into the pain and into the light. Her relief, that smile—he needs it; it’s a leash yanking him off the ledge of surrender and telling him to fight for another chance to live. To speak. After all, he’s a surgeon, so doesn’t he already know time is a borrowed gift with no guarantees?

Stay with me, Claire says again. And this time, he clings. He clings to her as hard as he can even as the world goes black a second time, his heart still full of too many unsaid things.

She waits for the door to click shut behind her in the stairwell.

Alone on the landing, there are no more voices. No more computers or phones. There are no more charts to read, labs to run, procedures to schedule, or medications to administer.

Wheelchairs stop squeaking through the hallways. Their wheels are no longer sticking to speckled white tiles as they turn the corner and head toward recovery. The smell of brewing coffee in the lounge near OR Four becomes a stale memory because here, and only here, do the demands of the hospital dissolve long enough for Claire to collapse her head into her palms for a moment, and breathe. Just breathe.

She only takes a moment. A second to grapple with the enormity of all that is happening.

Eyes closed, thoughts scattered, her fingers coil around something metal in her pocket and idle.

Her thumbnail traces sleek edges, silver grooves. A chain droops over her knuckles and scratches. Soothes. Familiarity tingling with each pass.

It’s a cross she fists in the quiet gloom. A token. Some beat-up trinket of her mother’s she couldn’t part with after her death so she’s taken to carrying it with her like a talisman even though she hasn’t believed in anything, or in anyone, for a long time. Not for years and years. Not until him, that is.

Neil.

He’ll be fine, Claire assures herself with a nod and a sniff. He’ll be okay.

The scan results sit in a folder next to her feet, still in need of a consult, still in want of a surgical scheme. The words “stable but critical” float in her periphery then flicker out again like a nightmare that won’t fade.

He needs to be okay, she thinks. Cold bites into her palm as she squeezes then releases, squeezes then releases, her pinky tracing the divots the pendant leaves behind on her skin.

He has to be.

Slowly, organically, Neil has chipped away at her walls to become a fixture in her life and she likes him there. Needs him there. She realizes she’ll do anything to keep him around, to keep him close to her for as long as she can.

So believer or not, Claire bows her head. She closes her eyes tighter and lets faith bleed from her heart straight into her hands.

Clutching her mother’s cross to her breast, begging for the strength and the skill to save him so they can have more time to bowl badly or laugh the night away over beers, so she can have the chance to say the words she already feels, she utters an urgent plea into the space around the stairs.

Claire wishes so hard for him to live that the words flutter as they take wing. They transform into symbols of her hope and despair:

A fossil in the air.

A sob with feathers.

A scream leeching from her compressed lips like a prayer.

.

.

.

Neil wakes with his head bandaged, his abdomen dissected with stitches, and a tuft of curly softness blanketed over his arm.

Squinting against the harsh hospital light, he sits up. Allows himself to adjust. To take in his surroundings.

Currently he lies flat in bed. A central line coils up his arm. His head pounds, and his mouth is dry. Wrapped in scratchy sheets, in sticky gauze and bandages, he notices the curtains are pulled shut for privacy and that there’s a woman fast asleep in the space beside him.

The first thing he does is smile. The second thing he does is tremble, relief as well as gratitude pricking the corners of his eyes.

The sight of Claire snoring and pillowed against his side overwhelms him so much that he shifts to brush his hand over the crown of her head without thinking. His touch, both featherlight and timid because he’s worried she’s a mirage on the verge of disappearing, petrified that one wrong move will shatter the reality of this moment like glass, Neil cups her cheek in his palm and he marvels—he savors.

He loses himself in the pure simplicity of touch. The chaste pleasure of it. Tracing the curves of her face with his thumb until she wakes.

“Hey there, sleepy head. Nice to see you again,” he whispers as her eyelids flicker open.

“Hey, you. Welcome back,” she stirs groggily and yawns. “Can I get you anything? Pillows? Blankets? Meds? Here, let me—”

Claire makes to move, to fuss over him, but she stops when Neil shakes his head, holding her in place with a look, with a languid stroke of his fingers along her jawline. Relenting, she softens enough to desist fidgeting. Then leans into his palm to ask, “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Fine?” she balks, sitting up. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not. Though, I do have the sneaking suspicion I was autopsied in my sleep for spare parts,” he jokes, wincing, “but otherwise I’m not bad. Fuzzy. Sore mostly. And you?”

“I’m okay, I guess. You know…considering.” Her shoulders heavy, Claire shrugs as she averts her gaze to check his fluids and vitals on the monitor, exhaling like she’s been holding in a breath for years. “Anyway, I’m much better now that you’re out of surgery.”

“—Not to mention conscious.”

“Right.”

“And talking again,” Neil adds glibly.

“Yeah,” she laughs but it falls flat. “That, too.”

“How long have I been out, by the way?” It’s a pointed question. Uncomfortable. Painful for them both to address because of all the might have been’s and almost was’s it carries with it, but he needs to know. He has to be in possession of all the facts.

Turning toward the window, Claire adjusts the blinds and swipes at her face, hiccupping back some stray emotion she doesn’t want him to see. “It’s been a while," she explains. Doesn't elaborate.

“Oh.”

“Yeah," she says, her voice small. “Things were touch and go for a few days.”

“I see.” A beat of strained silence. Then another. And another. He’s starting to notice the weariness she wears about her person now: the paleness, her rimmed complexion, the wrinkles in her clothes. He even recognizes the remnants of a few to-go lattes in the trash bin. It makes him wonder how many hours she’s spent camped out in this room while he recovered—weighing the odds. Pouring over charts. Pacing the floor while she waited for signs of life that weren’t guaranteed, or worse, might not have been coming at all.

“Hey, Claire?” he breaks in softly.

“Hm?”

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Startled and sobering, she turns. Sits back down on the edge of the bed. “For what?” she asks.

“Nearly dying to start,” Neil says with a sigh. “For the cowardice I’ve been hiding behind. For not knowing one-sided conversations aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, or that living inside your own head lands you nowhere except in hell.

“I’ve been stupid and careless… wasted so much time. I’m a fool for not having told you I’m in love with you sooner, for one,” he continues huskily, his voice breaking around emotion and a smile when she gapes back at him in disbelief. “But I am. In love with you, that is. Have been for a while.”

Claire’s eyes are red and glassy now. Her head has fallen during his speech to make a pillow of his chest, a place from where she blinks even and level back at him. Studying him as if he were a scientific specimen.

Still, there’s a warmth about her that puts him at ease. Her attentiveness is a balm that makes him stronger and bolder even though he has no reason to be.

Shrugging, Neil offers a slight upward quirk of his mouth before adding, “I could have lost you. Best to just—lay it all out there at this point, don’t you think?”

The sentimentality behind his choice of words is not lost upon him but he finds there’s no point in discretion now. There is nothing dumber to him than chasing back courage with fear when he knows how he’s ended up here, and why. There has to be a reason he’s come back to this world. To this hospital. To this moment. And to her.

There has to be.

He believes there’s a future out there where they can hold happiness in both hands, he feels it like a scalpel pressed against an artery. All they have to do is be brave enough to make a grab for it. Mark the incision. Cut the damn thing wide open and let possibility bleed where it bleeds.

“If you don’t realize I love you, too,” Claire sniffs at long last, trying to sound droll and unaffected, though not quite managing it with tears spilling down her cheeks, “then you’re an idiot.”

“An idiot, huh?”

“The biggest.”

“Right.” He considers this seriously. “Got it. Now, can you rate that on a scale of 1 to 10 for me, please?”

Snorting, she fires back without missing a beat, “Sure. Try infinity.”

Neil laughs at that. Then, with undisguised tenderness, he frames Claire’s head in his hands and pulls her toward him by the nape until she’s tangled in sheets and IV wires with him. To hell with the pain.

“Well then. Let’s see if I can do something to lower that number, Dr. Browne,” he says before capturing her mouth in an overdue kiss to cinch things between them with chemistry. With feeling. Jumpstarting their hearts like a defibrillator that will reset everything.

That one kiss, as it turns out, marks the first step towards being able to forge a future together. A start. To them, it comes to represent just that: a new beginning.

[violet-author]

Your Wallet And Your Heart, She Has Both ((18+))

This fic is the product of over a weeks worth of work, as compared to my usual stuff that only takes a few hours or so, I think it may be my longest fic yet. Inspired by the Author of the Spinel Fic titled “Yearning” ((Read it here! )) And to anyone questioning what Spinel actually IS in this fic, I don’t even know myself. Spookier that way. Warnings: Death, Yandere, Stalking, Discussion Of Domestic Abuse, Light Horror, Cake

“Nevah had a reason ‘til tonight, to chase a fella down, then I looked at you leaving the hotel, so I followed. Cause I just had to know… who was that othah chick you were with? They seemed pretty miffed when ya left yer room, you dropped ya key on the way too so… I had another reason to follow you… and the third… I guess I just like ya face. Cute like a doll It… spoke to me, if that makes any sense…”, she stops to take a sip of her drink, “I’m surprised you didn’t notice me, what with the pink hair an’ all, so uh… I’m Spinel.”

Another sip of her drink, and a gentle chuckle as she looked down into her glass, “Don’t worry about tellin me yer name. I already know it.”, she held ip your wallet, and slid it back to you, “again honey, don’t worry. All your money is safe and sound where you left it. I’m not a thief, well, maybe I am… but… I don’t like stealin from pretty people like you, and ah… I got reasons to follow ya… I won’t be too far if ya evah need me for anythin, and I mean that, anything.”, she finished her drink and stood up, she pushed you down into your chair when you tried to follow, she put down some cash to pay for the drinks too. “No pal, I follow you, you don’t get to follow me ok? And ah… check you wallet. Left a present.”, and so… she left the bar. You check your wallet, her phone number was written on a piece of paper neatly tucked inside… along with 300 extra dollars. You feel as if she’s special to you already. A new best friend… You head back to your hotel room and pack your things, you’re breaking up with the beast of a person you were with… true love’s on its way, and so are you. Getting into your car… Lightning strikes behind you, the outline of her in your back seat… you check… no one there, you turn on the radio… just static… you drive off anyways. You want to call her as soon as you get home. “I just couldn’t leave em alone now could I? But… One look at em while I sat on the balcony next to their window the first night they were here… and I just finished offin my now late boyfriend too, kinda glad I wear these gloves all the time too… who am I talkin to? Oh yeah, me. So anyways… I just had to meet em… not like they had a choice… I covered my tracks pretty well and kept the ‘do not disturb’ sign up on the door with a sock on the knob… staff musta thought we was bein reeeeal quiet with the lovemakin… Hmm… what did he even do for me to waste one o’ my favorite butterflies in the back o’ his heart… oh yeaaaah… caught him smoochin some other broad in the same bar I found my new lovie dovie… hehe place o’ fate I tell ya, who? Me!”, she laughed at her little half joke…“Anyways… so now they’re in their house and I’m just sittin here in the backseat of their car, planning my next move… who knows, maybe ah… maybe I’ll marry this one… or are they gonna be number 12… I hope not… that face of theirs… oof… nevah seen a prettier picture, would look even bettah with plenty of my lipstick marks all over their cheeks…. damn I wish I could gotten out with em buuuut…. people freak out when someone they just met is suddenly on their car… looks like I got a long night… bettah get some sleep too… gotta be well rested for our dare tomorrow… not that they have a choice, it’s their neck on the line aftah all… but they don’t know that yet… they will. I’ll make sure of it.” Later on in the day, Spinel knocks on your door “Ok so uh, well I got outta your car and I locked it like a good girl, cause I know I am one, I knocked on your door hopin for a chance to see ya again and it’s real cold out here, so let me in ok?”, said Spinel after you opened your front door. Shocking it were to see her, to know she was hiding in your car the whole time… you figure she’d break into your home if you denied her now, so you let her in. She walked past you with a tired looking smile, and you took in the sight of her, pink hair in a pair long pony tails, long sleeve black shirt, form fitting with a black tank top adorned with a pink skull having a heart shaped crack on the forehead, a dark pink skirt looking stylishly tattered, and stockings stripped with pink and black, with a pair of thrice belted heavy looking knee height heeled boots, by all accounts… she should be noticed anywhere. You noticed her footsteps don’t make a sound… and you ask why.“Uuuh, I dunno either I just… step lightly? Kind of a wiiiierd question to ask babe, why don'tcha let me handle the questions ok? Number one, who was that bitch you were with? Number two, do ya live alone?”, You sigh and respond, she is your ex-girlfriend, you broke up with her a few hours ago. And you reluctantly say yes, you do live alone. “Hmmm great! Guess you’re all mine then!” You ask what she means “What do ya think it means pal? Means I’m your girlfriend! Ain’t ya happy for that? I mean… look at me? The cute skirt, the thick legs, my adorable face,  plenty of hair for ya to pull, you’d be stupid to reject me, and you look pretty smart to me hun, so say yes. Say I’m yours”, her expression hardened, “Say it. 'Spinel, you’re mine’, I want to hear it straight from those pretty lips.You hold yourself silent for a few seconds… and relent, you guess you need to be with someone… you can’t imagine being alone again… you say what she asked you to say, suddenly you feel a prick on your finger, it starts to bleed pretty badly, she holds your hand up and licks the blood away with a teasing giggle in her throat. "There, all better, now you’re stuck with me, I don’t leave you and you don’t leave me, got it hun?” You feel clawed hands crawling on your back… you don’t remember what happened next. You wake up next to Spinel. Trying to understand what just happened… you fail miserably. “M, m, mmm… last night was fun buuuut… I didn’t get to go as far as I wanted, they passed out before I could actually do anything, guess lettin em feel that clawin fear mighta been too much for em to handle. Still, maybe I oughta hold off on doin anythin freaky. They don’t seem like the lewd type anyways… heh, but the look on their face, if I wasnt already in love with em I woulda fallen for em right then and there, oh gosh their eyes were practically burning in terror! And the way their mouth hung open like they were aboutta scream, ooh that was bliss… hm, oh? Looks like they forgot somethin. They were sure scramblin outta bed when they woke up… hmmm., now that I think about it… oh. Oh no. No no no no… nobody rushes that fast at 5 in the mornin…”You were at work, a boring office job, but your coworkers kept to themselves, so you had no issues most of the time. But today, they put in a little pink palm tree in your cubicle, you nearly fell over on sight of it, thinking it was Spinel. You held your heart, feeling the thumping flesh within pounding a beat you could almost dance to, with a nervous chuckle you cover it with the seat cover on your chair and get straight to work. You pushed away every thought of her that you could, focusing solely on your work, typing code and responses, sending reports, the kind of mind numbing work your brain can just check out from. As you dozed off by little degrees your fingers quickened… until it was four hours later, and you realized you finished everything early, gleefully you hop from your chair, with plans to go down to your favorite café for a treat, do you head into the bathroom, change clothes, and head to your car. And you freeze. The night before the last the lightning struck and you saw her shadow in your car… and then she appeared at your house the next day. You remember that very well. So you make a point of checking every inch of your car as thoroughly as you can, the back seat, the front, the trunk, under the car as the wheels on yours put it a foot and a half off the ground… and curiously you check in both small compartments in the front of the car, you haven’t the slightest idea why, you just had to be sure she wasn’t hiding anywhere. With the check complete, you carefully got inside your car and drove off to taste some sweetness. You park, get out, check your car once more, then lock everything that could be locked on it before heading inside. The dimly lit room spoke of serenity as piano played to some slow classical tune from speakers overhead, the sound of rain played softly along with low thunder rolling away to add to the calming aura of this revered area, revered by you at least, here you felt the safest you could be outside your own home, but with her… you felt this was you last bastion of comfort. And you were already reconsidering staying with her. But those thoughts had no place here, you looked over the menu, burying your gaze in it completely and said to yourself you’d have a pumpkin cake and hot chocolate. Your heart beat swift on feeling a familiar voice rattle through your skull. “And how are ya gonna pay for that babe?”, Spinel said in an agitated tone while waving your wallet in one hand while she supported her head on the table with the other. She stared you down, her expression? Wrath. Directed all on you. You froze under her glare, speechless. “5 in the morning. Who rushes out of the house at five in the morning? Were you late for work? Or… did you just wanna get away from me? Didn’t even give me a kiss to say goodbye, didn’t check if I was awake, didn’t even offer breakfast. What kind of a lover are you huh? Hmph… doesn’t matter now. You’re gonna make it up to me, ok?”, she slammed the wallet on the table, “I’ll have what you’re having, and after this you’re takin me to see a movie, got it? Maybe more time in a dark room with me’ll teach ya to appreciate me more, little reminder honey, I came to you, and you said yes, so start acting like you want me.” The dim cafe grew silent with your focus narrowing on her, and all you heard was your heart beating steady as the booming tick of the clock sounded off every second to the unerring passage of time. And she stared. She stared and waited for an answer. the lightless void casted by failing shine seemed to grow ever deeper, surrounding you both and trapping you with her in an infinite darkness, such was her chokingly gripped presence around you, her small stature exuded energies unheard, and you swore you could see the inky tendrils of the depths emanating from her, a being incomprehensible to mortal ken. Her truest nature forever concealed as this negative glare only gave the hollow shell of what she really is, shaded by the limits of your mind. You stared into those eyes, a lover scorned she felt she were, and your silence only confirmed and fed the flowing madness slithering from her…Each ticking clang of the clock sounded closer to your demise, here and now. Speech had found you once more to snatch you from the jaws of Cerberus. You apologize. You tell her an excuse along with it, or rather, attempt to before she cuts you off.  “Oh you’re sorry now? Well how sorry are ya honey? Sorry enough to get me all the deserts I want? Sorry enough to take me out dancing? Sorry enough to… propose to me?” That last question ended with a grin as wide as her mystery, and as the darkness surrounding you both. You’re left speechless, blushing through the shock and scrambling in your mind for an answer when she takes the reigns of the conversation once more. “Ok that last one maaaay have been a bit too far, I mean… we’ve only been datin a few days now, and to be honest, while I ain’t lettin another girl even touch you, I’m not too sure I wanna spend the rest of your life on me! And I do mean that. Mean what? darlin ain’t ya listening? The rest of your life, not my life. I get the feelin I’ll still be around when you’re gone… but uuuh… I’ll enjoy every moment you’re alive. Oop! Changed my mind, Your life’s mine, the rest of you too, and ain’t nothin you can do about that ok? Nope, not gonna wait for an answer. Way I see it… we’re already a married couple, I mean… you did sign me in blood and all. But let’s drop this discussion and pick it up never, the waitress is comin ovah to take our ordahs!"And in a single moment as if on the flick of a switch, even the dim light of the cafe blinded you with the darkness disappearing behind the curtain of reality, though what reality even is you scarcely have a grasp on with the realizations of otherworldly powers that exist in front of you in the form of Spinel. You check the backlit clock on the wall, time had stayed still as the darkness enveloped you, and you laid back in your chair while trying to make sense of what just happened, what felt like hours was no time at all, but interrupted you were again by the waitress, asking what you wanted to order. Spinel only had a smile on her face while you placed the order, she held up the menu you had and pointed to a large vanilla cake topped with fudge and strawberries, did what she said in the darkness even happen? Either way, you order that cake for her, in addition to getting for her and yourself a hot chocolate and a pumpkin cake. You’re looking at the waitress as she write down the orders, and as she walks off as well, and a pulse is felt, a ringing in your ears deep as ocean, and a foul taste in your mouth as you look back at her, a closed smile on her lips, but her eyes wider than ever. "Does she look good to ya honey? Does she tickle your fancy?” You immediately reply in a nervous tone that she doesn’t. that he girl in front of you is prettier than she’ll ever be. “Good answer babe, she’s a fuckin mess compared to me, right? O’ course I’m right!” The confections both drink and dessert were served to the both of you, a second person coming to drop of the cake, it was big enough for three, but she parried your spoon away from it, claiming the whole thing hers. So the spectacle began, Her sipping the cocoa in her tall cup alongside heavy bites of this behemoth straight from a baker’s dream. It took her a mere half hour to consume the whole of it, and like a good lover you lean over with a napkin and wipe the frosting from her lips, a shy smile as your expression, your simple actions sparking a tender moment through the confusion and creeping terror in the back of your mind, and that moment was watching her cheeks flush a gorgeously vibrant shade of pink, and in that instant, everything seemed to click. She was just as nervous around you as you were around her, without the upper hand the air of danger just faded away to the dullest rhythm in the background, until her hand snapped to grip your wrist.  “Oh now I know I made the right choice… my last love ain’t never did something like this, would you believe I caught the bastard cheating on me with some tart, some junky trollop? You wouldn’t do that to me right? No… I know you wouldn’t, you’re sweet. You just want a hug, a kiss, and a kind little word whispered into your ear, yeah? You just want someone who wants you, someone that won’t make you feel like you’re just another problem to deal with. Someone like me, who won’t let you go. Who’ll never let you go. Someone like me that’ll keep loving you 'til…“, She inched in closer, "You’re…”, and her lips brushed by your ear… “Dead."  Stunned by that she shoved you back down into your seat. "What’s wrong babe? Don’t like that? Oh… you do? Well aren’t you starved for affectio- oh… So that’s why you were with the girl with the bad attitude… You know I… I watched you when you checked into the hotel, a whole week of seeing her yell at you… sayin stuff like no one would love you like her, that you were lucky she even looked at you.” She sniffled, sounding on the cusp of a rising weeping sorrow, “But it’s ok now honey. It’ll be ok, cause you have me!”, she sighed, a sort of content flow to her breath, while she relaxed in her chair, “And I have you. Were you scared of me before? I’m not sorry for that. That’s just how I am, but I won’t hurt you. Not enough to kill ya anyways. Not enough to make you hate me. I don’t think my heart could take another crack. Darling… If you left me now. I think I’d just break. We kinda just met and already I don’t think I can live without you. You can feel it too right? Our souls tyin themselves to each other? Actually ah… they’re already pretty tied up. Signed me in blood remember?” You certainly do remember, that night your finger bled and the claws creeped upon you, you remember that much and nothing more, how you felt then feels so far away now, her love is different, it’s a confusing amalgam of tenderness and terror, when once you only felt a terror from the last one you were with, but even the fear strikes you oddly, like a sickening wine who’s taste leaves you only wanting another drink of it, a long and slow swig of the emotions she has you pour from your very core, reveling in the swirling dizzy tones of this deep song she played for you with every motion she made toward, away, and around you, with every word spoken, she enthralls you. The same feeling you had when you wanted to call her, a soul bewitched by a strange woman… and whatever trance she had you in just now from her confession, lifted when you snapped back to lucidity at home.  Herself snuggled up on your lap, a horror movie playing while she smiled, your hand in hers, clutching each other warmly… a moment that your realization of the sudden shift in scenery did not ruin… she was in love, and so were you, and while love itself seems blind, love itself would blind you, and you would let it cloud your vision as long as you loved her, and as long as she loved you. This one tender moment, It’ll remain one of your greatest treasures, and as the movie ended, she sat up and stood, offering her hand to you, eyes sleepy and showing a soft joy plain as day, she led you upstairs, she led you to bed, shoes kicked off the both of you, she eased you into bed atop her, and held you close, tight, and the covers seemed to jump over you both to guard from the chill mysteriously entering the room, you closed your eyes while the pair of you turned onto your sides, and a kiss marked the occasion, brief it were on the lips, but the love? Eternal. And so it were that you slept in her arms and her in yours. Ready to give her the rest of your life. Ready to give her your very soul. and in all honesty, she already owns it.

[alias-b]

"Neil would have kept trying for you. And eventually, he would have taken pictures of my little girl." Susan welled. Her body gave an odd vibration with the thought. "I can't stop thinking about that fact. I won't for a long time." -Susan broke my heart in this chapter, I love that she's woken up to Neil's shit. Getting closer to Camille is a good thing!! Their last scene was sweet. The dream jarred me though. I keep thinking about what would happen if Cam went to Neil at his manipulation? Scary

I’m so happy that Susan’s growth is being spotlighted. Her heart to heart with Camille was a scene I walked away from so proud of. :) Billy and Camille both got good moments with her. And…your last question actually got me to pull something from my drafts. It’s an AU scene after the break up/Camille’s mental meltdown/her kissing Jim in a moment of illness and confusion.

Yes, there’s a chance she WOULD have gone to Neil in her state. She feels so unwanted at the moment and his manipulation was really getting to her. Awful or not, attachment happens even to people who are abusive. I actually wrote an AU scene where she skips school all the same and goes to him instead of Jim finding her first. It was more of an exploration to prepare for the Camille & Neil convos I had coming. I preferred what I did by a mile, but this helped me feel out Neil and Camille’s relationship and her turmoil and honestly I put a lot of my own isolating thoughts into it. I’m…terrified to post it and still going slow, but I figure if I get more terrible anons, I have double the support from good friends. Also figure it’s relevant to how I feel now so I’m sharing.

So here it is below, be warned it’s uncomfortable and leads to the Jim kiss and there is heavy, heavy gas-lighting and some sexual references from Neil’s bullshit mouth. The FOIL between Jim and Neil is so stark, I wanted to highlight it. It’s not rly edited, I just pulled it. Thanks all.

Open Wound

    Camille swept snowy slush around her feet while a fresh coat fell. Dainty little flakes that stuck to dirty sleet as if to hide it away. Loch Nora was smaller than she recalled. Rollerskating up and down the street when the wind was warm and flowers in full bloom.

  Edna snipping roses to pot some around the house interior. A smile and wave at her floating girl. Stuck close to make sure Camille was safe.

  “Bullshit.” Smoke swelled out from red lips. A cigarette flicked toward the mass of frozen dirt that used to be the Harper house. She remembered Billy bleeding out in her lap and the fire that ate everything in sight. It was beautiful at the time. Now, she and Billy bled separately.

  Kids around here say they can hear moaning and weeping from the plot at night. Camille felt like she was watching herself. Like she was a soul and no body. No skin, no muscle, no bones to rattle from the cold. It was all far away. Her car swerved along ice when she parked near Cherry Lane. More so in the forest.

  Camille Harper was desired around town. Not wanted. That bleated. But, there was one soul who wanted to play.

  Billy would be at school still. Susan at her morning shift in the perfume department. It was a roll of the dice. Camille felt her entire being stretch to wrap around the town. Around this Earth. Cold air puffed and snow began to crunch too loud for any sound to get in.

  Neil knew why she’d come the moment he saw her shaken and wide-eyed there. Red and loud against pristine white snow. No innocence. He was wrapped in a winter coat. Ears prickling pink. Gloved hands swept snow from his truck with a plastic scraper.

  “Camille Harper.” Neil pretended to be blasé about it. Brushing snow and ice with short swipes. Flecks melted on his front.

  She seemed drunk. Half here.

  “Do you see me?” That flitting tone shrunk. He hitched like he might laugh, lip twitching.

  “Yes, Camille, I do see you.” Neil forced his eyes from her expression to the car. A beat. One hand clicked the passenger door open. She stared. He could have said a number of things about how she was trembling and frosting over. Better to come inside where it’s warm and sound. Camille lingered still at the opening and felt red lights blare.

  “Don’t get into that car. Just come back to school.” Billy said behind her ears.

  Billy didn’t want her anymore.

  She crossed with ire. Climbed in. Neil stood there with one hand on the door while she looked ahead.

  “It’s important,” he took his frosty glove off and reached to buckle her in, “that you’re safe.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Hargrove.” Camille gave a dreamy sigh. Didn’t remark that his arm was still over her lap, palm resting on the seat.

  “You’re very welcome, Camille.” He stepped back. “Neil is fine.” The door shut.

  She didn’t hear the car start. Didn’t feel it move. Didn’t even process the music or heat turning on.

  “You’re upset.” He noted. Threw a brick into the silence. Camille turned her head toward his profile when they took a left.

  “Are you hurting him badly again? What did you do to him?” She rasped. “Billy. Do you want to hurt me too?”

  “I don’t want to hurt anyone.” Neil sat back in his seat. Shrugged like he might be thinking of what groceries to buy later.

  “He’s different. Bad different,” she decided. “Worse different.”

  “Listen, Camille, I’ve known. This whole thing between you two. I imagine you both learned a hard lesson from it. It’s for the best. Billy was never good with secrets. My boy was never good with much of anything. Pretty girls for one. And you’re the prettiest of them all.”

  He made it sound like such an apology.

  “Where are we going?” She asked finally. Tried not to choke.

  “Moving here, I’ve gotten to know some fine people.” He said instead. “Everyone knows each other and do they love to talk.” Neil laughed. Hearty like a dad. Something vulgar about it. He touched his mustache in thought and came to a red light. “You’ve been crying.”

  “I’m fine.” A quick reply. Sharp and airy at the same time. Camille stared through him. Not at him.

  “I see you, Camille.” Neil set his elbow to the little pull down rest between them. One hand on the wheel. “You lost your parents. I lost mine when I was younger too. I did this, you know? Acted out. Tried to replace them. Learned I never would, but that didn’t stop me trying for awhile.” He parked on main street and cut the engine. Few shops still open from Starcourt taking business away.

  “It’s okay, you know, to look.” He clicked his seat belt off, faced her. “You’re all shaken still. I make you that nervous? Do I not make you feel safe, Camille? You got into my car.”

  And she couldn’t take that fact back. Another chill rushed.

  “I’m upset.” She admitted, felt like for the first time. “I miss the way things used to be.” Neil tutted, caught a tear with his thumb and skimmed down her cheek. Edged the corner of her lips. “I miss my mom and dad.”

  She sounded like a baby, face crinkling. Head tipped to the rest. Fingers clutched at his coat. Neil’s lips lifted as he shushed every little weepy sound. Patted hair.

  “There there, you’re too pretty to cry like that.” Neil eased, tipped her chin up in a way that was encouraging. “You feel safe here. You got into the car with me. I can make it better. Ask me to make it better, Camille.”

  She blinked at him. Really considered it because no one fucking wanted her except one red light that blared and readied to consume her. She felt Billy lick the shell of her ear and utter, mutilate. Syllables caught and Neil sighed when she slipped down, bowing her head as if to pray before him.

  “Shame. Stay here.” Neil slipped away to get out.

  “Wait,” a hand snatched his wrist on instinct. He was looking not at her face, but at the hand on his skin. “Where are you going?”

  “Girls like hot chocolate, don’t they?” Neil smacked the door shut after locking his car. Looked around. Camille covered her face and quivered. Those red flares burned her flesh. She glanced outside and saw herself with Robbie. Too young. Him offering her an ice cream cone.

  She took it. Smiled. Licked.

  She should have just screamed.

  She should have screamed now too.

  Neil returned and offered a to-go cup that steamed. He didn’t buy any for himself.

  “Take a moment and drink it.” Neil turned his car back on. Heat kicked up. Camille steadied her breathing enough to sip. It went down all chalky. Hair stuck to pink cheeks. “Police Chief can’t replace them, can he?” Hands smoothed his tie.

  “Jim is nice to me.” Her back hunched like she was avoiding a crushing blow.

  “Man has quite the reputation. Nothing that should be near such a nice girl.” Neil only shrugged, blue eyes lifting. “Unless, maybe, you’re not a nice girl. Painting your lips so he sees them. Dressing the way you do. Does he like to look at you?”

  “I-”

  “Do you like it when he looks?” Neil almost smirked, it flashed in his cold eyes. “You want him to pat your pretty head and kiss your cheek.” His palm cupped her face. The free hand took her cocoa away to set it aside. “Has he touched you?”

  “What?” Camille reeled back. Neil’s hand came to her knee. Everything locked up.

  “Have you shown him things? Hm, Camille? Taken your clothes off for him so he can see you too? Good girls don’t do that.”

  “We-”

  “You want a big man to kiss you all better. You want daddy to sweep you up.   Make you feel good again. Don’t you, Camille? You just want to feel good again. I understand that too.”

  She twisted, reaching for the handle when the lock came down.

  “Camille, don’t make a scene,” came his chiding, “I think you’re being very unfair to me right now. We’re just talking. I’ve been nothing but kind to you. Aren’t you safe here? Am I going to hurt you?” Neil’s grip on her knee clamped down. She wanted to scream that he hurt Billy. His family. Scream that he was the dirty monster. “You got into this car all on your own. Face it, you asked for me. Say it.”

  “It hurts.”

  Camille didn’t know what exactly was hurting. Everything. Nothing. But, it was an open wound she kept picking at.

  “There’s a place, you know.” Neil’s hand left her leg. The ability to function swept air into desperate lungs. “A place I could make you feel better. You wouldn’t have to do anything. Unless you wanted to. I’d take care of it. Don’t you want to be safe and secure again?” Wet clumpy lashes fluttered shut. “No, you stay right here.” Neil grasped her shoulder to shake. Eyes opened.

  “I see it. I see you.” He sounded so nurturing. “I see what made my damn son so crazy. You do these things to men, you know?”

  Neil laughed again. Camille felt him sucking the air from her. The pang of a jackal’s teeth sunk into her heart.

  An answer was upon the tip of her tongue.

  “Camille?” A muffled knock on the window. Neil’s play cut, he reeled from her quick. Detective Callahan looked less dopey staring there. He gestured for the window to roll down. Camille grew petrified.

  “What’s going on here? The Chief got a call. You skipped school.” He peered behind her. “Neil Hargrove?”

  “Afternoon, officer.” Neil’s smile dazzled. Camille stared at Callahan all paled and tearful. Never seen Phil this serious in all her time working at that station. “Ms. Harper was wandering the street. She’s a friend of my family. I worried. I was about to take her right back to school. Poor girl just went through a bad break-up. It’s my fault, I figured a nice cup of cocoa could solve anything.”

  Camille felt Neil’s warning hand on her back. Knew Billy would pay a price later if she didn’t lie right now.

  “Isn’t that right, Camille?” He chirped too cheerfully.

  “That’s right. I’m feeling better now.” She turned to Neil. “Jim must be so worried about me. I want to get home to him. Right now.”

  His brow twitched.

  Neil hated her and those red lips.

  “I got her from here,” Callahan didn’t thank Neil. Just took Camille’s hand and led her to his own vehicle. Neil stared the entire time. Waited until they drove off before he threw the cup outside with a spatter and sped away. “Camille.”

  “Is Jim at home?” She cut.

  He sighed.

  “Yes, he’s not happy about this.”

  “Oh.” Camille looked at the icy trees. Cracking against harsh winds.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Fine. Fine. Tired.”

  “Why did you skip school? This isn’t you.”

  “Yes, Philip,” Camille sniffled and faced him with red eyes, “it is.”

  They pulled up to the house. Camille felt fear flood.

  “Go on, he’s waiting for you. Don’t skip school again, Cam.” Phil offered. Tried to be careful about it because she was breaking.

  “Thanks for the ride,” Camille got out. Saw her car pulled up. Jim must have gotten a buddy to tow it over. The door opened and Jim crossed his arms there. Already aflame.

  “Skipping? Leaving your car in-”

  “I know.” Camille locked the door. Put her head down to go around him. “I just…needed to get away. All right?”

  “No, it’s not all right. Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Jim’s tone lifted. “I need to know that you and El are safe at all times.”

  “Well, we’re not.” Hands jabbed out and fell. “Can I go to my room now?”

  “Callahan radioed that he saw you in Neil Hargrove’s car.” Jim grasped her arm. “What’s that about?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Camille, I know how that guy is. Just talk to me. Let me help you.”

   You can’t.

  “He didn’t force me into the car.”

  Admitting that made her feel like trash. Jim saw her bottom lip wobble and let go. He rubbed his scruff and turned to sit at the head of the kitchen table. Covered his eyes when irritation twitched.

  “You need to understand that you can’t run off like that. It’s not safe. It’s a risk. We don’t take risks. I know…what happened with Billy is hurting you. I can’t watch you-”

  “Are you mad at me?” Camille crept to the table looking insecure. Hands pulled to her stomach.

  “Yes, Camille, I’m actually furious with you.” Jim’s hand smacked down. Caused her to jump. “Running away from school when there are people after you, I thought the worst!”

  “Don’t be mad at me, Jim, please.” She welled and came to his left side. “I can’t stand it when you’re mad at me.” Hands lifted. Heart pounding. Red lights scorched now. All she wanted to do was smother them out. “It hurts when you’re mad at me, let me make it better. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, don’t be upset.”

  No one wants me.

  I’m not a nice girl.

  “Camille, it’ll be okay, just…don’t do this again.” Jim cocked his head with an easier sigh, lifted his eyes to see her too close to him. He opened his mouth to continue before bright red lips fell upon his.

  Begging.

  Tears wet Camille’s cheeks as she took his jaw and opened her mouth. Moaned. Tried to deepen the kiss instantly, but Jim muffled a gasp of shock. Jerked up and away so quick that the chair skidded to crash into the floor. Camille was still looking at him with her hands lifted aimlessly, huge hazel eyes shining.

  “I…I thought…”

  “Camille, Jesus Christ, what was that?” Jim wiped his mouth and saw red smeared on his hand. His own gut twisted. He looked like she slapped him. Guilt that maybe he led her on pooled. “You can’t do things like that.”

  Camille burst into tears. Covered her face and crouched down on wobbling legs like she might collapse.

  “I’m so stupid,” she cried. Jim recovered and came down to her level. Felt a cringe back into the wall the second he touched her.

  “Hey, Camille. Just breathe for a second. Talk to me.” Jim was too good. The open wound bled out. He managed to get her into his warm arms.

  His girl was confused. Trying to hurt herself. He knew the pattern well enough. Tears wet his uniform. Camille pressed her cheek into the cool metal badge still pinned to his chest. Felt his heart beat under it.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” it wasn’t often Jim used pet names, they made her soften, “you’re safe. I got you. Just take an easy breath for me.” Camille shuddered into his body. Clutched at him and lifted glimmering eyes.

  “But,” Camille cringed through a sob, “can you see me, Jim?”

  Am I real? Am I dirty? Are the red lights going to burn still?

  Jim Hopper had no answer. He tucked her back under his chin. Kissed brown hair. Squeezed Camille so tight. Until she stopped crying and berating. Until she could breathe once more.

  “You just…make me feel safe,” she said, “I’m sorry.” Jim nodded and rubbed her back. “Are you still mad at me?”

  “No, I’m not mad at you.” Hopper looked at the patterns in the wallpaper behind her. “You’re hurting. I just…can’t watch you hurt yourself more, Camille.”

  “I’ll try to stop.”

  “Promise me.” Jim’s own voice cracked.

  “I promise.” She closed her eyes. Exhaled Neil Hargrove out of her skin.

  For a single beat there, Camille Harper felt the wound might be able to close.

[herstarburststories]

the night hurt us.

A/N: Hey. Hope you guys like it. I had to keep Jason from calling his S/O "doll" and similarities.

Also, we hurt in the night, so the night hurt us back and we hurt the night, and so the night hurt us back are so related somehow.

Beta is @lyss-91, thanks.

Request: Helloo, I was wondering if I could request a Jason Todd (Titans) where y/n and him are working together and one of them gets hurt badly leading to confessions (and possibly mild smut)?? Love your writing!! Thank you x

Disclaimer: mild smut (I haven't write any related to smut so it may be a not so good part), the usual violence.

━─┈ ✧

"Easy like that? The big bad bat let you go chasing your childhood idol?" You asked while punched another bag of ribs, making the man grow in pain. "I'm sorry. That wasn't the kind of moan you were expecting tonight?" You questioned rhetorically, disgust almost dripping from your tongue, so different of your tone just seconds ago.

"Yeah. Kind of. I need to hand him some fills. People he used to know are dying." Jason, or Robin as he was dressed of, explained and kicked the rapist's accomplice calf muscle which leaded him to fall on the ground. His face was already painted in blood, but neither of you cared. By how you saw it, he deserved it. Even worse. What kind of monster rapes 3 women in one week? Surely a type that won't be able to speak for months. "The police couldn't do their job as usual and they crawled to us. Batman told me to go after him with the information as soon as he noticed. He knew I wanted to meet the old Robin."

Jason's man stood up again, apparently not tired of getting hurt over and over again. Well, that wasn't the worst thing that Todd would deal with. In fact, beating up a freaking scoundrel constantly was very appreciated by him.

"Combine business with pleasure. Try not to pester him for an autograph." You teased him, a delighted smile on your lips. Jason lived for reading about Robin when he was younger, suddenly he became Robin himself and now the boy was going to actually met the first person who wore his cape. As you smacked the man you were fighting's jaw from the down to the top, a kind of selfish thinking invaded your head. "How long you will be gone?"

"Two days. A week if most." He shrugged, not really paying attention to that. Another punch, Robin huffed. "You are making it way too easy, man. But could I expected from a tool who covers his friends for fucking raping woman, huh?" Jason threw him against a vehicle, your car, often beating up his face. "Are you missing me already?"

"Please. It will be the best days of my life." You resorted his innocent, usual provocation. "And be careful with my car. I don't want his blood all over my baby." Hiding your early melancholy for being apart from home, even just for a little amount of time, you finished your criminal by giving him a knee against his teeth. Your lips opening way for the imagine of your own teeth, a proud smile giving in. Unlike him, there was nothing brooke inside your mouth. "Touch a woman one more time and what just happened will feel like a fucking carnival compared to what we are going go make you go through." You used the same offensive expression he'd call the girl who had ran away at the begging of this combat.

"That's hot." Jason smirked, referring to how you would handle that situation and put that asshole in his place, right after he stopped the hitting circle, throwing the unconscious man away. You rolled your eyes, checking if the man was still awake, your back facing Robin. Time for you to call the police, if the neighborhood hadn't yet. Since there was no sound of sirens, the answer must be negative. You couldn't say it was surprisingly. After all, that was Gotham. People didn't want to mess with maskered psychos or anyone else, to be exactly. "You know, you could co—"

Jason's speech was interrupted by a grunt. You recognized this hoarse voice, retraing his pain as if it was some sort of overload weakness. You worked with him on partner patrols for long enough to know how a hurt him sounded like. Yet you'd never hear that, a grunt substituted by a rigid shout. He was in more pain than you'd ever be conscious of.

When you turned around, ready to face what made your heart throbbing, the man who Robin fought was found with such a sharpy penknife embed in Jason's back. Before he'd attack him from the back again, you jumped his direction, your injured hand from the previously disturbance grabbing a knife to situate that on his skin. Which was made only a few seconds later, you stabbed his stomach twice and then rested your white weapon against his used hand to harm your friend. His whinny screaming got you even angrier.

"Shut the hell up. At least I didn't attack you from behind like a coward."  You growled, putting your knife back inside your night uniform, kneeling down beside Jason. "Robin, are you okay? Fuck, of course you are not okay. I'll call Alfred, just help me to get you in the car." You said exasperated. You never dealt with a situation like this. Sure, you did hurt a couple of bad people so bad they needed to rush to the hospital, even a come once. Through they were horrible human beings, your sense of revenge for the ones who couldn't get it themselves always louder than that tiny guilty part. You didn't care. Otherwise, you were in front of a bleeding Jason who couldn't even stand up straight this time. It was different.

Everything with him as different.

You put his hands over your shoulders while you held his torso, walking baby steps, calm and soft, there was no need to hurt him even more, when both of you attempted to reach the car. Ultimately, you opened the car's door and put Jason in, trying to be as gentle as you possible could.

"Thought you didn't want blood all over your precious car." His weak voice tried a joke, although it came out as coughs and drops of blood.

"For once in your life, Jason. Please shut up. For your own good." You replied, the tone coming out of your throat sounded fragile, almost like the closest way you'd be from begging.

"Come on, (Y/N). You are no fun. I'll be okay to rip off more stupids soon and—" He noticed your state, but didn't think it was serious. You were worried. As much as it pleased him a lot, it wasn't uncommon for someone to be a trembling mess when their friend was bleeding on teir automobile.

"Jason, please. If not for yourself, for me." After closing the back door, you went to the driver's place, sitting there and turning on your car. Jason was dizzy, in pain and feeling what he'd assume was his heart beating trough his whole body as he pressed his hand against the wound to keep blood from slipping away, but that scene was clear as looking at the sun: you, sat down, eyelids pressed together hardly, fingernails cutting part of your steering wheel because of how strongly you were holding it. That was just a microsecond before you recovered your mind and opened your fearless (Y/E/C) orbs, — a piece of fear inside them, pictures by non poured particles of water, tears of pure worry that you didn't let cross the line between your cheeks and the exterior world. — enlaced with his image on the car's prismatic rear-view mirror and speed up to the Batcave. Fortunately, one of your strong sides from your training were reflexes, so you were able to watch Jason, the street and call Alfred at the same time, the only thing you couldn't control, yet were so desperately making an effort to, were how your head ached from keeping tears, how your sobs choked you up, how you denied any thought on how may Jason didn't make it. Because he needed to. Gotham needed him to. You needed him to.

"Don't worry, Miss (Y/N). Master Jason will be recuperated soon." Alfred announced, taking off his dirty gloves, covered be the current Robin's blood, other liquids of his organism and medical things that you couldn't pay attention to. "Master Bruce will be here as soon as he can."

"Joker causing trouble again?" You'd ask, glancing an all tied up Jason. He looked better, indeed. Healthier. Alfread was such a lifesaver as he always had been, since Bruce was just a kid, even before Bruce was even born. For now, you were just grateful for him to be here.

"I am afraid so."

"Thank you, Alfred." You thanked him with a warm smile. He just nodded, grabbing his surgical tray.

"I will bring you some tea. And then let me exanimate you." Didn't sound like a question to your ears, because it wasn't. You pouted like a kid, but it didn't matter. Alfred had enough work on Jason, and calming you down while helping him. He didn't need to be busier now.

"Alfred."

"Please, Miss (Y/N)." You sighed, aware that would be a helpless cause. After all, some band-aids sounded good at this point.

"Okay." Then, Alfred left. And you are back to glaring Jason. Blood a hundred per cent inside him, exactly where it was supposed to be. His features calm, as if he was getting the rest he'd be rooting for. You put your hand above his, caressing it.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)." A quiet voice spoke, and you raised your head, looking into his green eyes. "For worrying you."

"Jason, you are the one in this room who just got a kind of surgery or medical preceding, I don't care." You shook your head. The image of Jason between life and dead playing in your head like a sick game. "The fact is, you were the one dying. You shouldn't apologize."

"It was a stupid mistake. I failed somehow I shouldn't have." You took a deep breath, trying to contain yourself. Here he was again, too worried about his performance to even think about his life.

"Jason, you didn't fail. Everyone makes mistakes. Batman won't be disappointed on you and neither should you. Next time, watch your back. Be sure the idiot isn't up. You already know it, don't beat yourself for this slide. Just..." He looked down, facing your hand on his, such a beautiful contrast. The look in your eyes didn't leave his memories, how horrified you were. Adding the fact that Jason wasn't able to do nothing about it, that was what hurt the most. Not that fucking stab, or the stitches Alfred would use to fix him. What mattered were you. How scared you were. You needed him by your side and he wasn't there. "Just be happy that you are here. Alive. With me."

He looked up to you, his arm moving to place his hand on your face. Some annoying pain showed up, but he didn't mind. You leaned in to help him, your own hand making its way to his neck while the other one worked as your support, holding on his sretcher.

"I swear I won't worry you like that anymore." Jason caressed your chin. For the first time, you let a solitary tear fall down your cheek, which he quickly still delicate washed away. "I hate to see you cry, especially about me. I told you I would be okay. What's a stupid bastard against the fucking Robin?"

"Holy shit, I can't believe I'm in love with such an idiot." You huffed, closing your eyes, kind afraid of what he was going to answer.

"You better believe it. Because I'm an idiot and I'm also in love with you." He pulled you closer as your eyes opened. His finger stroking your skin, both smiling lips getting closer, closer, closer...

No one knows who started it, but a kiss emerged from a long time of secret feelings. Calm at first, just two young people trying to figure out how it felt to be adored, to be loved, to feel. It was like home itself, after waiting so long in a trip, you finally got where you knew that was your soul's place. But things started to get a little too touchy.

"Come here." Jason whispered between kisses, pulling you to the medical bed he was laid on.

"I don't wanna hurt you." You intercepted, biting his neck while both tried to regain oxygen.

"That's the last thing you will do." He said, his hands going down on your back. You grinned and got in the stretcher, carefully to not hurt him more.

Jason smiled openly, grabbing your butt as you came back to his lips. Your hand coming inside his shirt to touch his well defined abdomen. How long have you been dreaming about this? Being able to touch him regardless, hearing his moans because of how good you made him feel. And by the way he possessively hold your ass, you could tell he felt just the same. Sitting on his lap, it was obvious that Jason was getting very excited with your little foreplay. His kiss got rougher, you pressed your clothed parts together only to get that dense voice to moan your name.

Until another voice said your name.

"Miss (Y/N), could you get off Master Jason? And master Jason, let go off Miss (Y/N), please." Alfred walked in and you jumped off Jason scared, falling to the ground. Needless to say your soon to be boyfriend laughed his ass off after checking up you were okay.

[remasteredinnuendo]

Home

Synopsis: Olivia finds herself in trouble when breaking things off with her boyfriend. But her best friend since school, Ben, makes sure she’s not alone.

Warnings: Strong theme of domestic violence, abuse, hospital stay. 

Info: Please don’t read if you’re triggered by anything in the list above. 

“You have to leave him,” Lucy had said.

Rami had clutched her hands, begging. “He shouldn’t be treating you like this.”

“Just listen to us,” Gwilym told her.

But it was Ben’s words that stuck in her head. “I need you to stay alive. I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

They were her friends, and she knew they were right. How could they not be right, telling her that the situation she was in was a bad one? Even she was aware of it. Olivia loved her boyfriend; it was fading now, but it once had been there. And him? He had loved her. Sometimes.

But the latest hospital visit had been enough.

The first phone call she had made as she dragged herself through the underground parking lot on her stomach, bleeding and sputtering, had been to Ben. Her best friend since they were teenagers, the man she trusted most. It had been him she had called, not the ambulance. But she didn’t stay awake long enough after telling him where she was to tell him not to call someone else for help. She didn’t want it.

But she needed it.

 Waking up that day had been so painful she wished she had died. Two broken ribs from her boyfriend’s boot kicking her; a bruised eye socket from his fist; a broken nose from his knee. He had not been gentle with her when she told him she didn’t want to live like this anymore. He had not been kind.

“I’m going to kill him,” Ben said, his words the first ones she heard.

Turning her head had been painful, but she did it for him. His face was so distraught. There were tear-stains down his cheeks, his knuckles white as he clenched his hands together. There he was, sitting at her bedside with his elbows on his knees, foot tapping impatiently. He couldn’t look at her.

“I swear to God, I’m going to kill him,” he declared, straightening his back.

She reached her hand toward one of his, and watched him pull away. The very notion made her heart break. “P-Please….” She mumbled, throat dry and head sore. “Let it go.”

Ben finally brought his eyes to her, and they were red-rimmed and glassy. Filled with rage and disbelief at her words. “Let it go?” he nearly barked. “He could have killed you. Do you understand that? If I hadn’t gotten there in time…..or if I didn’t know and you couldn’t have called….”

He let his thoughts run wild, and Olivia lifted herself ever so slightly from the hospital bed with a whimper of pain. She snatched his wrist with her fingers and pulled him back down with her, forcing her hold on him. Much to her surprise, he did not pull away in all his anger.

“It’s over. I left him,” Olivia told him, voice a whisper. “And I just want to breathe. I finally feel like I can, and I want to breathe.”

Regretting these last two years was difficult to fathom. After all, her boyfriend— now an ex— had once been so sweet that it had made her fall in love. And while regretting it didn’t seem possible, she knew staying as long as she did was a mistake. But sometimes people screwed up. Sometimes she wasted her time looking for the good in someone when they wasn’t any. And in the last little while of her relationship she looked at the man’s boots, covered in her blood, and still tried to convince herself that she was kicked by someone else.

That wasn’t her fault, yet it wasn’t not her fault, too. But it sure as hell wasn’t Ben’s fault; and she just wanted to sit here with him. To feel his hand in hers and imagine what this could have felt like if she had dared to do it sooner.

“All right, love,” Ben conceded, sighing as he leaned forward to rest his forehead on her hip. He turned to glance at her, cheek against the blanket over her legs. “You’ll never have to suffer like that again.”

“I know,” she told him softly. And she had so much more to say to him, but swallowed the rest of the words as the heaviness of pain killers took over and she fell asleep.

When she was discharged, three days later, Ben didn’t leave her side. They were both nervous that her ex would come knocking around, looking for her. So he demanded that she stay with him in his flat, rather than at a hotel. And any time he had to step out to the shops or for an audition, he made one phone call and Lucy and Rami came to be with her, or Joe when he could, or Gwilym when he was asked. She was never alone.

They did not throw a party. Refrained even from speaking badly of her ex. Instead, they put an arm around her shoulder or pressed a kiss to her cheek. They made her soup and made sure she took her pain killers on time and not a single pill too many. A list of things were made of the things she needed to retrieve from the townhouse she had shared with her ex, and a date was set to get them.

Ben parked his car across the street from the house, and when he turned the engine off he turned to her. “I can do this, you know. I don’t want you to go in there.”

“The investigator told me that he’s been ordered to stay out of the house for the day so I can get my things,” Olivia reassured him, pulling her hat low to avoid the stares of passersby. The bruises on her face only had gotten worse as they healed.

He tightened his grip around the steering wheel. “I’m going with you, then. And you can’t say no.”

“I wouldn’t say no.”

They stepped onto the street and Ben immediately reached for her hand. Olivia had to pause for a moment, breath caught in her throat as her heart pulled toward him. Just as it always had. It had been so long since hands had touched her without wishing her harm. She didn’t remember the last time she had been touched so gently, and it made her want to cry.

Ben was too focused to notice the affect he had on her. His eyes were terribly serious, but she didn’t blame him; he led the way up the porch, and pulled her key from his pocket. Opening the door made her flinch, but she wasted no time getting on with her life.

She swept around the house as quickly as her maimed body could, fingertips touching every tainted surface and throwing away what was hers that she didn’t want. Today needed to be fast, not nostalgic. There were no sweet memories here. She got a box from the master bedroom closet and collected her things, one by one, and tossed what she didn’t wish to take into bin out in the backyard. She wished she could have watched them burn.

There was a hole in the left cushion of her sofa, and a chip in the hardwood floor right next to the window overlooking the streets of the neighbourhood. She found herself staring at the same curtains from the last house she rented with her ex, which they had been kicked out of. Her shoulder bag was on the coffee table, on top of the hardback classics she had read over and over again. There were stitches in the strap, holding it in one piece. The same stitches she had sewed exactly one week before her high school graduation.

She thought about the burn on the kitchen counter. She remembered that day last January when she drank a bottle of tequila after the first time her ex ever put a hand to her throat. She remembered that she fell asleep with her head against the bathroom door after throwing up, leaving dinner on stove. When she woke up it was to the scent of smoke and the blurry sight of the pan on fire. She remembered burning her palms on the scalding handle, dumping the contents into the sink before setting the pan down on the counter. She couldn’t keep her head straight until the next six times she puked in the toilet.

The bathroom had a mirror smeared with hand trails from wiping the steam of every hot shower she had taken here. Four empty bottles that once held two hundred millilitres of liquor sat beneath the sink, right next to the cleaning gloves she used while wiping up the broken glass from every picture frame she threw in every which direction.

This was a horrible, wretched place. But now she was leaving it, free.

“Are you ready?” Ben asked, taking the box of items from her arms.

She jumped out of her reverie and smiled up at him. Really, truly smiled. “Absolutely.”

Olivia took the honour of locking the front door behind them before they packed everything into the back of Ben’s car. And as he went to open the passenger side for her, she leapt forward before she could even help herself.

Her arms wound around his torso and her face buried itself in his hoodie. Inhaling his scent and fighting the tears. But they weren’t tears of sorrow; they were ones of relief. It had been so long since she had been able to hug him like this. Her ex had never liked the way they spent so much time with one another. And now that she was able to do what she wanted, she wanted to do this.

Exactly this.

Olivia tilted her head up and found his lips waiting for her like a question. And the world fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that she didn’t know existed. Ben brought his hand to rest below her ear, his thumb caressing her cheek as their breaths mingled. She ran her fingers down his spine, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them and she could feel the beating of his heart against her chest.

And when she pulled away, it was only because her lungs were stuttering in her chest so hard that it hurt her broken ribs. Olivia looked at him sheepishly, crimson in her cheeks, but did not let him go. “I should have done that a long time ago.”

Ben tucked a stray hair behind her ear, lips swollen from their kiss. “Yes, you should have,” he agreed. “But now we have all the time in the world to make up for it.”

She smiled, happy for the first time in a long time, and let him guide her to the passenger seat. They were going home.

And she felt safe knowing that.

[saxonspud]

Outlaw - Born and Bred

Excerpt from Chapter 15

For @whumptober2019 #no11 Stitches

The wagons left Clemens point, and headed to Shady Belle, a big house in the middle of the swamp.

Casie lay in the back of one of the wagons. Tilly sat next to her. Every so often her eyes would open, a glazed look in her eyes, and they would dart around like a scared, wounded animal.

The fever hadn’t broken, which worried Tilly. She was used to nursing the wounded members of the gang, and Casie didn’t look good. She was pale. and her skin was cold and clammy.

Bill was driving the wagon, and every so often one of the wheels would hit a rock, or a branch, causing it to jolt badly.

Every time this happened, Casie's eyes would open momentarily, and she would groan in pain.

Tilly yelled at Bill, “for Christ-sakes Bill, will you be careful, this ain't doing Casie any good!”

Bill looked over his shoulder and glared “If you fucking think you can do any better, be my guest!”

“I could,” she retorted, “but you’d do a lousy job of looking after Casie, so I’m best back here. Just slow down a bit will ya!”

“If we slow down, we’ll lose the others, and I have no idea where we’re headed.” He growled.

Tilly looked at Casie’s bandage. There was an ominous, deep red stain, and it was getting bigger.

“Fuck” she said “You better had slow down Bill, or else Casie's gonna bleed out!”

Bill glanced over his shoulder, and looked at Casie. He saw the deep red colour of the bandage.

“Fuck.” he said, as he reigned in the horses, to slow them down.

Dutch was riding alongside the wagon train. He saw the wagon dropping back. He turned The Count, and headed towards the rear wagon.

“What's goin’ on, why are you going so slow” he asked Bill.

“We gotta problem Dutch.” He nodded in the direction of Casie and Tilly.

“Every time this wagon lurches or hits a stone it gets worse.” Tilly remarked, pointing to the bandage on Casie’s shoulder. The deep red stain on the bandage was growing, and the centre was wet, where the blood had completely come through the bandage.

“Shit!”Dutch growled under his breath. “Stop the wagon, I’ll stop the others, and talk to Hosea.”

Dutch galloped along the line of wagons yelling at them to stop. He finally reached Hosea.

“We’ve got a problem Hosea, Casie is bleeding out.”

Hosea jumped off the wagon, and headed to the wagon where Casie was laying. He jumped in the back.

“Every time the wagon jolts, it gets a bit worse.” Tilly said to Hosea, in a panicked voice.

Hosea shook his head. “This needs stitching. We can’t do it here, it’ll take too long. If she gets many more jolts...”

Hosea looked at Dutch who was sitting on The Count, looking in the Wagon.

“I warned you Dutch, she shouldn’t be travelling.”

“That's not very helpful now, is it, Hosea!” Dutch replied, trying to control the panic in his voice.

Hosea sighed, “Find out from Lenny, how far out we are? Tilly, go up to the front wagon, I’ll take over here.”

Tilly jumped off the wagon, and ran along to the front wagon, jumped up, ready to drive off, as soon as she was given the signal.

Arthur and Micah arrived at Shady Belle. It was dead quiet, nothing going on in the grounds.

“We better check the House, I’ll take the upstairs, you take downstairs” Arthur suggested.

Micah nodded in agreement.

Before long the house was cleared. They started clearing the bodies out of the house, and dumping them in the swamp.

Micah kept glancing at the track leading up to house.

“They should be here by now.” He said, looking at Arthur.

Arthur nodded, “I agree. Maybe one of us should go and check where they are?”

“I’ll go”, Micah said “I’ve saved that kid twice, I’m not about to let her die on a wagon train!”

Arthur smiled to himself, was this really the Micah he knew. The crazy bastard who only thought of number one! Or maybe he had misjudged him. He really didn't know any more. Could one little kid change people like that. Look at Dutch. Adoption papers! He’d never bothered about that before. Was that why John had gone, because Dutch hadn’t adopted him when he was around the same age. Then there was Sean, a womaniser, who’d been tamed by a thirteen year old, only to have his brains blown out.

What a mess. They’d been in a mess since Blackwater, now the mess was getting worse. Where would it end.

Micah mounted Baylock, and headed back the way they had come. He hoped they were close, and that he was panicking for no good reason. How had this happened. How had that kid got to him. He must be going soft, but he couldn’t help it. Everyone she came into contact with, she had some sort of affect on them. They either loved her, or hated her. Nothing in-between. Thankfully, for the kid, most of ‘em loved her.

Micah was nudged out of his thoughts as he saw the wagons ahead, but why had they stopped?

“What's going on?” he yelled. As he headed towards the convoy.

Dutch waved Micah over, to where he and Lenny were talking.

“Casie’s in trouble, we’re trying to decide what to do.” He said, a worried look on his face. “Hosea, is with her now.”

Micah rode up the line of wagons, until he saw Hosea, sitting in the back of one.

He looked in the back of the wagon, and saw Casie. She looked a lot worse than she had, when they had left for Shady Belle.

“Give her to me, Hosea” Micah demanded.

“What! We can’t move her, she’s bleeding out!” Hosea exclaimed.

“If you leave her, she’ll die. I don’t know about you, but I’m not gonna to let that happen, Now hand her over!” He growled.

Hosea lifted Casie up, and passed her over to Micah, who held her in his arms.

Micah pushed his leather gloved had into Casie's wound. Casie let out a loud moan and opened her eyes wide, and gasped.

“Stay with me, Casie. You god-damn stay with me” He growled.

“Hosea, get the supplies you need, find a horse and follow me.”

Charles, who had watched the scene from a distance, rode up and dismounted.

“Hosea, take Taima!” He said.

Hosea quickly grabbed some medical supplies, jumped out the wagon, and mounted Taima.

Micah pushed Baylock into a gallop, closely followed by Hosea.

As Hosea rode past Lenny and Dutch, he yelled, “get these wagons rolling.”

Arthur decided to get a fire going, whilst he was waiting for the Wagons to arrive. He could at least get a pot of coffee going. Arthur started to drink the black liquid.

Arthur heard the sound of hooves, and pulled his rifle from his shoulder. He was surprised to see Micah and Hosea, galloping flat out towards the house. Even more surprised, to see Micah carrying Casie.

Hosea yelled at him. “I’m gonna need some boiling water, Arthur, and quick.”

Micah pulled Baylock up near the front door of the house, swung his leg over Baylocks neck so that he could jump on the ground, still carrying Casie, his gloved hand, still pressed into the wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood, coming from the hole that the bullet had made.

He kicked the front door open, headed for the kitchen, where there was a flat table.

He laid Casie on the table. He grabbed his knife, and cut the blood soaked bandage off her shoulder, then ripped off her blood stained shirt.

Hosea ran into the house, followed closely by Arthur with a pot of boiling water.

“Micah, you’ll need to hold her down, I’m sorry.” Hosea said, apologetically.

Micah stroked Casie’s cheek. “You’re gonna have to be brave now sweetheart.”

Casie stared at Micah, fear in her eyes, and tears ran down her face unbidden.

“Micah...Just let me go...” She pleaded.

“Sorry Honey, I can’t do that.” The outlaw whispered. He pulled a wedge of wood out of his pocket, and doused it in whiskey. “Bite on this, it’ll help.”

Casie bit down on the wood. Her eyes wide with fear.

Hosea dug out a needle and thread and put the needle in the boiling water, for a few moments to sterilise it. He then grabbed a cloth, and doused it in whiskey and hot water, before wringing it out.

He nodded at Micah, who held Casie fast.

Hosea pushed the rag into the wound to get rid of the excess blood. Casie stiffened and wailed through clenched teeth, as the whisky seared into the wound. Hosea started to stitch, every time the needle went into her flesh she screamed, trying to move, but being unable to, as Micah held her fast.

At one point Casie tried to push away with her legs, so Arthur moved to the table and held them down as well.

Casie screamed in agony, through clenched teeth. Her eyes screwed shut. Why were they doing this to her. She wanted to die, why wouldn’t they just let her die. Through her own screams she could hear voices. Her fathers voice saying, “say anything, you’ll be joining your whore of a mother” then the sheriff, “your gonna burn in hell..”. Casie shook her head from side to side, trying to get the voices out of her head.

The convoy headed up to the gates of Shady Belle. As soon as Dutch saw the house he pushed The Count into a gallop. On reaching the courtyard, his ears were blasted by the screams of Casie, coming from the house.

He jumped off his horse, and ran into the house.

He looked at the scene in the kitchen, and held his head in his hands.

“Oh Casie...What have I done” He cried.

Hosea looked at Dutch, “your guilt can wait,” he said sternly, “Casie needs you now.”

Dutch walked to to the other end of the table and spoke gently to Casie, stroking her cheek.

“Hold on baby girl. It will be over soon. Just hold on, we all love you.” Tears welled up in the gang leaders eyes, but he didn’t care.

The voices in Casie's head were blasted away, by a voice she recognised..Dutch. Casie opened her eyes, everything was a blur, but she could make out the shape of the black haired man.

Dutch wiped away his tears and kissed Casie on the forehead. “Hold on Casie. We’re nearly done. You are Casie Van Der Linde now. You are strong, and you can get through this. Do you trust me?”

Casie managed to nod.

“Be brave for just a little longer. I know how brave you can be. Dig deep.” He whispered.

Hosea finished stitching the wound. “OK.” He said, breathing heavily.”There's a bandage in my bag, Arthur. Can you get it for me.”

Arthur grabbed the bandage out of Hosea’s satchel, and handed it too him, so that he could finish up.

Micah gently released the pressure from Casie, and took the wood from her mouth. He grabbed her hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Susan Grimshaw walked into the house, she was already organising the new camp.

“I’ve made the rooms upstairs for you gentleman and Casie. I suggest you get her comfortable, and I’ll send one of the ladies up to help.”

Micah, looked at Dutch. “I’ll carry her up.” It was clearly a statement, rather than a request.”

Micah picked up Casie and carried her upstairs to a largish room, which had 2 beds setup in it. Whoever was nursing Casie, could at least be comfortable.

Micah laid her on the bed. Casie looked up at Micah, her eyes, now beginning to come back into focus.

“Micah...I,” tears welled up in Casie's eyes.

“Sshh...get some rest sweetheart, I’ll come and see you later.” Micah kissed her on the forehead.

He turned to leave the room. Dutch stood in the doorway. He placed a hand on Micah’s shoulder.

“I’ll never be able to repay you for what you’ve done for Casie.” Dutch whispered.

Micah stared at Dutch. “Yes you will” he snarled, “when we find Marston’s whore, and his bastard.”

Dutch nodded and let Micah leave the room.

[kayr0ss]

Appointments Chapter 2: She’s a Little Abrasive

[LWA, Diakko, Small Town AU, Fluff and Slow Romance, Pining™ lol]

Chapter 1 & Table of Contents [Links] AO3

She would have really liked her first, new, friend to be here for the occasion, but Lotte had class and Akko could understand. Besides, they were going to have brunch at a cafe the following morning—and Lotte was bringing a friend!

She was definitely going to master biking today. Any minute now! She could feel it in her bones.

…at least, in the ache of her bones.

A few days prior, Lotte had dutifully brought Akko downtown where shops lined the streets and market stalls set up camp in the few open lots. It was a wonderful experience; they made a girls’ night out of it. By the end of the evening, Akko was the proud owner of a brand-new bike.

Never mind that she didn’t actually know how to ride it. Yet.

‘Yet’ was very important, because whenever Atsuko Kagari put her mind on something, she did every damn thing she could to get it done. She had a new bike, a lot of free time—I probably need a job soon—and nothing to lose. She popped her knuckles, tongue-in-cheek while she gripped the leather coverings of the handle bar. Like a sniper, the brunette surveyed her surroundings. The park was in a state of relative peace, apart from the grade school football team practicing at the center field. She was in the designated bike lane which encircled the field, and the weather was dry and overcast. It was three in the afternoon on a Thursday, only a few locals had come out for their afternoon runs, so she was going to have to maximize the time she had the lane all to herself.

She remembered being seven, sitting cross-legged in front of their TV while she watched a famous triathlete finish the Samhain Cup in record time. The woman said something about believing in your heart—Akko couldn’t remember the exact words—but it was enough to get her going. She pushed the right pedal down, and with excitement in her chest she felt the bike roll forward. When the momentum was enough to keep her upright, she grinned, bringing her left foot to its respective pedal, pushing down on it with renewed confidence because she was going fast enough to feel the wind against her skin!

She was biking!

And then she was screaming.

“Shit!” was an understatement—she completely missed a rock and was unceremoniously tossed off of her bike. She hissed, feeling a sharp, stinging pain at the knee, blinking through the mess of brown hair that had flown forward and covered her face. She pushed herself up on her palms and could hear the bike’s rear wheel still spinning on its axle. At least it wasn’t broken?

“That—”

Akko saw a strong hand thrust in front of her face.

“—was a complete embarrassment.”

“I noticed.” Akko groaned, clasping the hand. She mumbled a small ‘thank-you’ while she was pulled up—her knee was bleeding pretty badly.

“You need to have that cleaned,” the woman pointed out. “Then buy some knee pads. Or borrow some from the kids,” she pointed over her shoulder towards the football team.

Akko regarded her wound with a cringe. She bent downwards, trying to dust off the grime around it, but when she looked up to ask for her name, the lady had turned on her back and was walking towards the field. Akko shrugged, figuring she’d be hanging around the park often enough to see her again anyway.

But for now, she needed to see a doctor.

15:58

Or not. That’s going to have to wait. Skinning her knee wasn’t part of today’s schedule and she had Applied Physics by five-thirty. Soap and a bandage would do, and Akko cursed her luck while she walked her bike back to the apartment; she didn’t feel like sprinting across town again.

By five-fifteen, she was freshly showered and seated in class. Akko did a little dance because ‘small victories count!’

Applied Physics wasn’t as bad as it sounded. She thought it would be full of undergrads like Sociology was, but it seems this was the nightshift class—full of post-grads who needed units in science ‘for formality’s sake’ like her. There were only a few in attendance, and she had acquainted herself with a peculiar girl named ‘Sucy’. Akko had, in her usual fashion, declared them friends out of ‘Asian solidarity’, and honestly Sucy didn’t look like she cared so she took that as a yes.

—

It was a pleasant surprise when she discovered that the friend Lotte was bringing for brunch was Sucy from Physics.

“I can feel the beginnings of a solid friendship!” Akko grinned, starry-eyed while she looked between Lotte and Sucy.

“I thought I was through with this idiot last night,” Sucy drawled, to which Lotte only sighed.

“Sucy and I have known each other for a while,” Lotte supplied. “We’re roommates.”

“You guys live together?” Akko asked in wonder.

“Yeah,” Lotte smiled, “helps cut costs. Tuition is expensive, and I’m trying to finish my degree as quick as possible because I chose to study full-time.”

“I intern at the Chemistry department,” Sucy interjected.

Akko shot her new friend an expectant look, taking the opportunity to observe her appearance. She exuded an over-all ‘I honestly don’t give a fuck’ vibe, and her long, purple hair which mysteriously covered her eye added to the effect. It suited her.

“And?”

“That’s it,” Sucy punctuated. “I intern at the Chemistry department.”

Facts and interests were shared over a brunch of eggs and toast, and while it was mainly Akko and Lotte who did the talking, she eagerly learned more and more about Sucy Manbavaran and her talent in mixing things that either exploded, corroded any organic material it interacted with, or corroded the material before causing it to explode. Akko thought it was ‘really cool’ that she cultivated a mushroom colony underneath her bed, but apparently Lotte didn’t because ‘fungi’ and ‘potentially dangerous spores’.

The minutes ticked by and their drinks had gone cold. The cafe owner—a kind, soft spoken Russian woman—would occasionally join in; Akko learned that Lotte and Sucy were regulars and the owner seemed happy to welcome a new face to the neighborhood. Lotte had ordered and slice of cake (“They are to die for!”), and the group was sucked into a detailed report of Akko’s biking progress and subsequent accident.

“I can’t believe I let you buy a bike,” Lotte massaged her temples. “Let me see the wound?”

Akko pulled her skirt up, and Lotte winced.

“Akko!”

“I think I have something for that,” Sucy had fangs in her grin.

“Sucy—” Lotte hissed, “—no.”

Akko blinked, “but if it helps—”

“Nope!” Lotte set her palm on the table. “You’re going to see a doctor. It’s looks terrible! Why did you leave it untreated over night?”

“I… was late for class?”

-

-

When the door to her office swung open, Diana retracted her pen with a click, looking up from the patient file Barbara gave her with a practiced expression of professionalism. She would nod politely, greeting them a good morning before engaging in small ta—

Brown hair and… red eyes?

“Wait, you?”

Diana didn’t expect the reaction from herself, and apparently her very confused patient didn’t either. She stole a quick glance to the patient file.

Atsuko Kagari F | 24 | Blood type O+ | 161cm | 48kg

“Er—what?”

Her gaze flitted back towards the woman, and it dawned upon her that this was no way to behave herself at work. She cleared her throat and put a cool facade back on, internally scolding herself for the slip-up. “My apologies,” Diana stood to offer a handshake, “there was a woman at the crosswalk some days ago, I may have mistaken you for—”

“You’re the pretty blonde chick!”

Atsuko-Kagari-With-Red-Eyes-and-Blood-Type-O+ had a finger pointed towards Diana and a slack-jawed look of recognition.

“Excuse me?” Diana snapped.

Her patient visibly cringed. “Shit. Not going to repeat that—doesn’t mean I don’t mean it! It’s just my mouth spews out crap before I really think about it and—anyway—what I’m trying to say is I think I messed my knee up pretty bad.”

Diana crossed her arms, choosing not to react because this woman just made her cycle through three different emotions within fifteen seconds. The best defense was a statement of facts, “so you were the one who shoved me in the middle of the road.”

“Yeah,” the other woman grinned sheepishly, looking away while she scratched at the back of her head. “Sorry about that. Was late to class.”

“Interesting.” Diana raised an eyebrow, “and your knee?”

“Biking accident.”

She relented, choosing to let the circumstances of their first meeting slide in favor of the automaticity of a check-up. Barbara had taken care of the preliminaries—blood pressure, vital signs, and other pertinent information.

“Tell me what happened.”

She directed the brunette towards a nearby stool while she fetched a pair of rubber gloves and pulled the lamp closer. ‘Atsuko’ recounted yesterday’s events in a jumbled run-on sentence and Diana felt her exasperation grow because the brunette simply couldn’t stay still.

“Stop fidgeting.”

“But it tickles!”

To her frustration, Atsuko just kept squirming. Diana held the other woman’s knee steady with a gloved hand, brows knitting together in thought while she scrutinized the injury. The surrounding area was red and seemed a bit swollen. She gently put pressure around the abrasion—

“Ouch!”

“Tenderness and pain,” she mumbled. “It’s infected.” Early stages; no pus or liquid discharge.

“So what do I need to do?”

“First off—why did you let it get to this? You should have come in yesterday.”

“You aren’t the first to tell me,” Atsuko groaned, crossing her arms. “But I would have been late to class.”

“Again.”

“Would have been,” the brunette emphasized, shooting a challenging glare to her direction. “And I wasn’t, for the record.”

“Lovely. Will a pat on the back suffice?”

Atsuko frowned, her lip jutting out in a pout, “I don’t need your approval!”

“While this is true, I believe that running around town—constantly late for class—is no way for a college student in Luna Nova to behave.”

“I’m a graduate student,” the brunette huffed.

Diana raised an eyebrow. “Then even more so. You’re already at the professional level, Atsuko.”

“Akko.”

The physician tilted her head in inquiry.

“It’s my nickname.” ‘Akko’ rubbed at the sides of her head. “Calling me ‘Atsuko’ in that nagging voice of yours is reminding me of my mother and giving me headache.”

“Well, Atusko,” Diana said pointedly, “perhaps I should just include an aspirin in your prescription.”

She pulled out her pen in a sharp motion that signaled the end of their conversation and scribbled something onto a prescription pad. She tore off of the leaf of paper and held it out towards her patient, who had snatched it up and was now inspecting it with those big, curiously red eyes.

Those same red eyes which were now narrowed in thought. “I’m not even going to pretend to know what these are.”

Diana almost chuckled. Almost. “Fucidic acid—it’s a topical anti-bacterial. Apply it twice a day for a week after thorough washing, and then dress your wound according to the instructions I’ve written. If the wound begins to close and there’s still pain or swelling, you’ll have to come back and I might need to give you oral antibiotics.”

“Right,” her patient dutifully nodded.

“If there’s pus, or if it becomes watery you need to come back immediately. May I ask where you’re staying?”

“Why?”

The blonde rolled her eyes. “So I know which pharmacy to refer you to. The nearest is along Orion Street.”

“Oh—that’s on the way home!”

“Good. The attending pharmacist is a good friend—”

“Glad to know you actually have those,” she mumbled.

“—named Ms. England.” Diana punctuated, purposefully ignoring the jab.

“Her surname is seriously England?”

“Yes.”

It looked like she was trying her hardest not to snicker but— “we’re in England.”

It must have been her hundredth eyeroll, but Diana did it anyway.

“It’s like… if my surname was Japan,” she giggled.

“Anyway,” Diana interjected, “there will also be no biking until the abrasion heals”

“But—”

“No buts. The wound will open—you’ll just be susceptible to infection all over again.”

“Mou,” she pouted. It was rather disarming. “Fine.”

Diana heard the front door’s bell ring. Her two o’clock appointment was on the dot. Unlike ‘Akko’, she noted with a mixture of annoyance and… something.

“Well,” the brunette blurted out, spirits evidently dampened. “Thanks. I’ll just head out to the reception for my due.”

The blonde nodded, wordlessly allowing Atusko to collect her things.

“Atusko Kagari,” Diana muttered to herself once the woman in question was out of earshot. She leaned back into her leather office chair. “Akko.” What a peculiar woman. They were roughly the same age, with Diana being older by a little over a year, but there was a glaring difference in maturity. And an over-abundance in child-like glee. Which isn’t inherently a bad thing, she hummed. It was… rather refreshing. She deduced that her patient was likely new in town.

“You?!”

The sudden shouting jerked her up in her seat. She leaned forward to get a view through the opened office door and saw that new arrival’s usual scowl was a little deeper today. The lilac-haired woman had an accusatory finger pointed towards none other than Atsuko Kagari.

“You’re the crazy-ass woman who vaulted over my equipment a few days ago!”

“You were the weird-looking computer lady!” the brunette gasped. Then she squinted, rubbing at her chin in thought, “…though I swear I’ve seen you somewhere else before.”

“Did you just call me weird!?” the woman in glasses glowered.

“Holy shit,” Akko gaped.

“You two know each other?” Barbara, who was watching from behind the front desk, looked like she was about to burst a nerve from all the yelling.

“Aren’t you my Physics professor?!”

“If you attend the five-thirty on Thursdays, then yes.”

“How do you not recognize me?” Akko flailed her arms. “There were like, eight of us.”

“Because I don’t give a fuck,” the bespectacled woman grunted. “My job is to teach and give you tests, not hold hands and make friends.”

“But you’re supposed to be a mentor to look up to!” Akko whined, and Diana was amazed at how she didn’t seem to care that this woman was apparently her professor and that she already had two strikes against her before their second meeting in class.

“What are you?” the older woman scoffed. “In elementary school?”

“Why does everyone keep talking to me like a kid!” the brunette cried indignantly, slamming her payment onto the front desk without bothering with the receipt. She dramatically stomped out of the clinic, and the three other women could only watch in bewilderment.

“That girl is going to give me an aneurism,” Barbara blinked.

“Or a heart attack,” her latest patient agreed. The woman let herself into Diana’s office, lazily falling into the vacant chair with her arms crossed.

“Good afternoon, professor.” Diana picked up her stethoscope—this one was a pulmonary case. “Have you been considering your options for cardio exercise? Perhaps light jogging to build lung stamina?”

The woman shuddered, “can’t I just rely on my inhaler forever?”

Diana sighed, clicking at her pen before looking down to review the patient record. This time, it was a regular.

Dr. Croix Meridies F | 35 | Blood type AB- | 172cm | 57kg Instructor: Department of Engineering & Actuarial Sciences, LNU — Asthma & Misc. Pulmonary Complications

One difficult patient after another, she supposed.

-

Hey guys! I just need to clarify that I'm not a medical person so I really just tried to wing the technicalities of this! [Thank you Google and WebMD - but please don't self-medicate using Google or WebMD!!!!!!!!!!]

Thank you to everyone who commented on the first chapter! Your response to it really got me up and writing and smiling silly! Anyway I hope u enjoy ehehehe

@ tumblr ask people: I am so sorry for neglecting the ask requests pls 4give me I will get around to all them [like--6 or 7ish left?] sometime!

[ijustwanttowritefanfic]

Work in Progress

I came across a prompt a few days ago about Yang being a bartender and Neo being an assassin.  I liked it, so I started my own.  Here is the first part.  Tomorrow, I’ll read it over and do some editing.  And maybe come up with a better opening.

Story under the cut

Yang closed up shop.  Set glasses to dry through the day, restocked the low bottles, wheeled in a keg of ale that sold out.  The drawer was counted, the safe balanced, tips stuffed into the pocket of her coat.  Tuesday night, barely even a hundred lin.  It would be enough for her to buy her pain pills for the next week.  A half empty bottle of gin from the well joined the money in her pocket.  Junior would take it out of her paycheck, but she needed something to help her sleep tonight.

Her right arm pulsed in agony at the thought of the painkillers.  The cheap prosthetic functioned, but barely.  Yang pulled the leather glove over the offending hand, her jacket covering up the metal framework of her forearm and elbow.  She grabbed her cane and locked up the bar.

A cold breeze cut through the thick leather of her coat, making Yang debate a warm meal or a warm taxi to carry her home.  Her hip ached, a counterpoint to the pain in her arm.  She gritted her teeth as comfort now battled comfort later.

“No, Yang, it’s just a little cold, the walk isn’t that far,” she muttered.  Barely twenty minutes, and she had one last dose of painkillers waiting at home.  Combined with the gin, she knew sleep would find her.

The crash from the alley startled Yang, the tip of her cane pointed at the sound.  The wet impact of flesh on flesh froze Yang in her spot.

Another impact, this one mixed with the sound of bone on bone, drew Yang into the alley.

“Come on, bitch, say something.”  A slap echoed from behind a dumpster.  “What, you murder my boss, half my gang, and you have nothing to say for yourself?  At least give me a scream.”  The spine shivering sound of a knife being removed from its stealth pulled Yang closer.

A man with dirty red hair and a maroon jacket pinned someone against the wall of her bar.  His back blocked out who it was, although Yang saw a pair of boots dangling between his legs, black leather with thick soles.  Something thick and viscous dripped off the tip of one of them.

The man raised his arm over his head, a knife clutched in it.  

The cane smacked the back of his knees.  He fell back.  

The cane hit the arm holding the knife.  Bone crunched under the solid wood.  

The knife slid into the darkness.  

The cane hit shoulder, chest, neck, head.  

Crunch, crunch, crunch, snap.  The bottom half of the cane followed the knife, the top half pulling Yang down.  She sprawled over the top of the man.  He wheezed in pain, trying to lift his arm.  Yang scrambled off him.  She bumped into the man’s victim.

The lady with the black leather boots hissed in pain, her hand grabbing Yang’s whole arm.  Her face was swollen, blood streaked across it.  Pink and brown hair matted with the blood that covered her face.  She wore what had been once been a white trench coat, now more of a mud and blood colored coat, tears along the sleeves and torso hinting at were the blood came from.  Her head rolled back, her eyes unfocused.  

Yang stared at those eyes, one pink, one brown.  She knew them, one of her regulars had similar eyes.  The lady who always drank a pint of bitters, tipped well.  Now she bleed all over a back alley, all over Yang.  She needed help.

Yang wrapped her whole arm around the lady’s shoulder, using her other to push her up.  It gave tortured squeak as Yang put most of her weight on it.  She ignored it, she had to help.

Standing, Yang held the lady on her feet, but the lady teetered on unsteady feet.  No way would this lady be able to walk.  She barely came up to Yang’s chest, and Yang had seen thicker toothpicks.  Bending down, she swung her false arm under her legs, carrying her like a sleepy child.

Yang turned to walk out of the alley when a hand grabbed her ankle.  The man pulled himself closer to both of them, his other hand raising up.

He had the knife back, he would finish her off.  She spun, stomping her bad leg down onto his skull.

Crack.

His empty hand fell back to the ground.  Blood pooled out of his temple, his eyes stared at nothing.

Yang limped out of the alley.  The lady shivered in Yang’s arms, curling up against her.

“Fuck, where is the nearest hospital?”  Yang cast her head around, looking for a taxi, or the hospital.  Something shook against her breasts, and the lady in her arms shook her head.

“What? I shouldn’t take you to the hospital?”

Her head kept shaking back and forth.

“Where else can I take you?  I mean, I have a first aid kit at home…”  The lady nodded her head at that.  “Fuck, fine.  I’m taking a taxi, though.”

A fistful of lin thrust its was up from Yang’s embrace.  “Oh, well that’ll help.”  She took it, and the arm hung back down limpy.

A taxi turned the corner a few minutes later, and Yang flagged it down.

Opening the door, the taxi driver turned around, eyeing the lady in Yang’s arms.  “Hey, everything okay?”  

Yang put on her most innocent smile, which looked only slightly guilty.  “Yeah, my friend just had too much to drink.”  

The driver looked like she didn’t believe her.  “Listen, girl, I-”

“Here, take us home, and it’s all yours,” Yang said as she thrusted the roll of lin at the driver.  She plucked it from Yang’s hand and turned around.

“You got it, where to?”

Yang rattled off her address before settling into the back.  They all drove in silence.  The lady in Yang’s arms felt limp, and Yang worried she might be dead.  Her whole arm against the lady’s ribs felt the shallow breaths.

The taxi driver dropped them off in front of the brownstone building Yang called home, speeding away as soon as the door closed.  Yang felt the same way.

Careful juggling allowed her to pull her keys out of her pocket and let them in.  The elevator took them to the fourth floor.

Inside her apartment, she laid the lady down on a threadbare couch and limped over to her bathroom.  The first aid kit, a robust one from another lifetime, sat dust covered under the sink.  Her medicine cabinet held the bottle of aspirin and a translucent orange bottle with one large horse pill.  Her bad arm ached, her good arm arched, her bad leg screamed, and that one pill was all she needed to silence them all.  It would fog her brain and dull the rest of her body.  Maybe after she took care of the lady on her couch.

Stopping in the kitchen area, Yang filled a bowl with water and grabbed a few towels.  She lugged the large kit out to the sectioned off area she called a living room, Yang sat in front of the unconscious lady.  Under the jacket, she looked even smaller than before.  Numerous cut covered her torso, arms and a nasty gash on the outside of her thigh bled onto the ugly couch.  

The first aid kit opened eagerly under Yang’s thumbs.  First things first, clearing the area around the wounds.  Removing the coat winded Yang, and under it, the lady’s clothes were shredded.  The shears in the kit made quick work of her top and most of her pants.  Removing the boots turned out to be easy, even if they had too many buckles and zippers.

The lady’s body was patterned with a number of old and new scars.  Yang also noticed that the lady was ripped.  It reminded her of the gladiators she knew from her youth.  The muscles lacked definition, but damn, she had them packed on.  

Her hand traced over the lady’s bicep and Yang sat in awe.  Gashes covered her forearms, made colorful from the bruising as well.

Thin, surgical like scars made a half circle over her throat. Using the water, she cleaned off her neck, but it was just bloody, not injured.  Her face had a nasty laceration over her left eye.  It would need stitches.  Her torso was colored black and blue, although Yang felt nothing deformed.  A nasty gash started under her left breast and curved around her side.  

The muscles in her legs felt better than the ones in her arm, and Yang’s totally professional touching found no broken bones.  Her outer right thigh had been sliced open, and it bleed pretty badly still.

It took a few trips back and forth to the kitchen area to clean off all the blood.  The next trip to the laundromat was going to suck.  That or living with pink towels.  Bloody pink towels.  On one hand, it was very metal, on the other, ew.

The iodine in the kit was still good, for another month.  Yang eyed the gin bottle on the floor next to her, but its alcohol content was too low to be of much use for cleaning wounds.  Holding the needle in her mouth as she used her good hand to thread the it.  Her hand shook.  Yang hadn’t sewn anyone up since her accident, and before that, she had always used right hand.  The replacement hung at her side, useless.  The wounds bled still, and Yang knew she needed to close them.

A swig from the gin bottle steadied her.  She could do this, this was just like training, just like all those times out in the wilderness.  A few stitches, and it would all be over.

Her hand steady, Yang closed up the wound on her thigh, than over her eye, the gashes along her arms, the one across her back.  Old instincts kicked in, and each wound closed faster than the one before it.

The sun peeked through the browned curtains by the time Yang finished.  The gin bottle laid on it side, empty, and Yang envied it.  

Standing on protesting legs, she walked once more into the bathroom and cleaned her hands.  Her shirt and pants were ruined, and she stripped out of them.  The shower called to her, but Yang felt the siren song of sleep more.

Passing the couch, Yang paused.  The ugly piece of shit was ruined.  No one should be sitting on it, let alone sleeping on it.  But Yang only had one bed.

Well, her guest took up less space than anyone else Yang had slept with.  Picking her up, Yang limped over to her bed.  She laid the lady down gently before removing her false arm and crawling in.  The lady rolled into Yang, curling up against her side.  Making sure the blanket covered her guest, Yang laid her head down.

For once, sleep came easy.

[billysjoel]

Since several of you seemed interested in a sneak peek of my jdox vampire!AU, here you go! @punkrockzero @drelliotreidmd @john-dorkian @musicalgiraffeindistress :) fair warning: it’s still in very early stages and all this is subject to change (and seriously, this is just about all i have written so far so it’s not very exciting), but please feel free to give me any feedback you might have!!

             JD had been looking forward to this night for a week and a half.  Somehow, the stars had aligned and he, Turk, Carla, and Elliot all managed to have the same evening off.  Life as an intern was proving to be far more hectic than JD had ever thought possible, and he knew Turk and Elliot were feeling just as burnt out.  Carla always had their backs, even if she and Elliot didn’t always get along, but what they all needed was a night where they could simply relax and be friends without the weight of the hospital resting on their shoulders.

             It wasn’t until JD was three drinks in – he’d forced himself to stomach the beer Turk had picked up – that his inhibitions lowered and he felt comfortable asking the rest of the group about something he’d noticed over the last few months.

             “Hey, Carla,” he said, an edge of laughter in his voice, which was most certainly the alcohol’s doing, “you’ve worked at the hospital for years now.  Have you ever noticed anything… off about Dr. Cox?”

             “Off?” Carla repeated, her brows furrowing. “What do you mean?  I know he’s private and a little closed off, but –”

             “Woman, please,” Turk snorted as he rolled his eyes. “That dude is the most closed off person I’ve ever seen.  Forget about how he talks to his patients, he can’t even relate to his coworkers, man!  I don’t know why you care so much about him.”

             JD sighed and took another swig from his bottle. “Spare me the speech, Turk,” he grumbled.  “No, I meant like, have you ever noticed how sometimes his eyes go all dark and he, like, sucks on his gums like he’s anxious about something?  It’s like he’s seconds away from snapping, but he always pulls himself back.”

             “If I didn’t know any better,” Elliot giggled, “I’d say someone spends a little too much time observing Dr. Cox, if you know what I mean.”

             “What’s so funny?” JD asked, quickly growing annoyed with his friends.  “I’m being serious.”

             “Bambi, it’s pretty obvious, I’m afraid,” Carla said between titters.  “You’ve got a crush on Dr. Cox.”

             “I do not,” JD said, his voice rising.  “You guys, come on.  Just because I think he’s a brilliant doctor doesn’t automatically mean I have a crush on him.  I’m just naturally observant.”

             “Whatever you say, dude,” Turk chuckles, making it clear that none of them are buying it.  

             JD grumbled under his breath and sank down in his chair, listening as the others changed the subject to a movie Turk and Carla had gone to see the previous week.  He was content to be left to his thoughts, which, as usual, drifted toward Perry. It wasn’t as though he’d kept a journal – though that was an idea – but over the last few months since he’d started at Sacred Heart, JD had been paying close attention to Perry.  He’d committed each occurrence to memory, each time Perry’s pupils dilated, his eyes growing dark with… well, JD wasn’t sure if it was anger or want or what it was, but if anyone else had paid enough attention to notice it, they’d think something was up, too. He didn’t know what to make of the way Perry ran his tongue over his teeth and his gums either, but it seemed to go hand-in-hand with the pupil dilation.  When those things happened, Perry seemed to have to step back from whatever situation he was in – JD had yet to find a common denominator between them, because there was usually such a flurry of activity, a code or a new admit, that JD couldn’t watch him for long enough.  The next chance he got to look at Perry would show him that the older doctor had composed himself and was back to his usual bristling self.

             JD found it hard to concentrate for the rest of the evening.  He knew he should put more effort in, having organized their get-together in the first place, but it was their own fault for teasing him.  Even after Elliot and Carla left and Turk went to bed, JD couldn’t help but dwell on the fact that his friends thought he had the hots for his attending.  Was it true that he found Perry objectively attractive?  Well, yes, if he was being honest with himself.  Did he think Perry’d be phenomenal in the sack? Absolutely – if he’d thought about those things, which he most certainly had not.  At all. Not even in his dreams. Especially not that one time he’d woken up hard as a – never mind.  But that didn’t change the fact that he did not have a crush on Perry Cox.

             JD rolled over in his bed and punched his pillow in frustration.  He doubted that even after bringing it up that any of his friends would care enough to observe Perry as much as he did.  Closing his eyes, he let sleep come for him, resolving to paying even closer attention to get to the bottom of Perry’s odd characteristics.  All his dreams were of his attending’s dark eyes.

               JD stuck close to Perry’s side the next day, shrugging off the girls’ names and verbal abuse he’d grown so accustomed to.  If annoying Perry more than usual was a risk he had to take, well, he was damn sure going to take it.  He convinced himself – which didn’t take much effort – that he was shadowing Perry so closely because he was such a good doctor. It would be nice to learn from his process, see how his mind worked, even if his eyes didn’t darken at all that day. Plus, he enjoyed the older man’s company, even if the feeling wasn’t mutual.  He ignored Carla’s pointed looks throughout the day, and thankfully, he was just busy enough that she couldn’t pull him aside and tease him – or worse, do that thing where she seemed to be able to read his mind.

             Late in the day, just as the sun had begun to set, a new admission was brought up to the ICU and Perry called JD over just as they wheeled in the patient.  It was a gunshot victim who’d barely been stabilized in the emergency room and was barely clinging to life.  JD could hardly recall a time when he’d seen more blood leaving a single person’s body. He stood back, letting Perry run the room as nurses fluttered about, abiding by Perry’s every word.  At first, JD thought only to use this as a learning experience, but then he realized Perry’s pupils looked blown out once again, leaving hardly any trace of the vivid blue irises around them.  Perry’s jaw was set tightly as he worked to stop the bleeding.

             “Dammit, people, let’s get moving!” Perry shouted. “Carla, call the O.R. and get him in a room immediately.  If any of this bleeding’s internal, he’ll be a goner in no time flat.  You, I want three units of O-neg in here now.”

             JD surged forward at Perry’s gesturing, snapping gloves onto his hands and applying pressure to the gunshot wound on the victim’s left side.  He didn’t think about Perry’s eyes, not when a patient’s life was hanging in the balance. He had his priorities, and as badly as he wanted to know what caused Perry’s symptoms, his patients came first. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the patient was stabilized and heading up to surgery.  JD was certain he’d need several transfusions, but now all they could do was hope that he’d pull through.

             When he looked up from the mess in the room, rubber gloves and gauze and towels scattered all over the floor, Perry was across from him, sucking on his gums once again, his arms crossed in front of his chest.  “Dr. Cox, are you okay?” JD asked, his determination to get an answer for Perry’s behavior overruling his instinct for self-preservation.  “Your eyes…”

             Perry’s dark eyes flashed dangerously, and for the first time, JD felt genuinely afraid of Perry.  “I know your little heart just goes pitter-patter when I’m around, Newbie, but if you don’t stop talking about my eyes, I’ll make damn sure you regret it.”

             JD raised his gloved hands in surrender.  “Sorry,” he muttered, but watched curiously as Perry’s eyes darkened further.  His gaze seemed to be locked on JD’s gloves and he ran his tongue over his teeth. Intrigued, JD took a step toward Perry, his hands still raised.  “Is something wrong, Dr. Cox?” he pressed, watching as Perry held his ground, though he looked uncertain.

             “Nothing’s wrong, Daphne,” Perry snapped, glaring down at JD.  “Get out of here and get yourself cleaned up.  You’ve still got a couple hours left.”

             Slowly and deliberately, JD took his gloves off and tossed them in the hazardous waste bin just outside the door.  He watched Perry’s eyes go back to normal once he was out of sight, leaving JD no closer to understanding what was going on with his mentor.

               That evening when JD got home, he went straight to his room, grateful to have the apartment to himself for once.  He fished around under his bed and emerged with a previously unused journal and opened it to the first page.  Part of him felt crazy, but he knew he wasn’t just imagining Perry’s symptoms.  With great care, he made a bullet-pointed list, beginning with Perry’s eyes.  It was the most noticeable symptom, at least for him, and the strangest.  Normal eyes didn’t just dilate, especially not under harsh fluorescent hospital lighting.  He described Perry’s eyes in great detail, noting that it seemed as though his pupils were widening rather than the icy blue of his eyes changing color. Following that, he transcribed the way Perry sucked on his teeth or run his tongue over his gums.  Of the symptoms JD had noticed, that one perplexed him the least.  Perhaps it was Perry’s way of calming himself during fast-paced trauma situations, or a nervous tick.  But then again, Perry never seemed so in-control as he did during codes, when he ran the room flawlessly.  JD debated adding Perry’s tense and terse attitude as a symptom, but Perry seemed to be that way all the time, so he scratched the idea.  Unable to think of anything else just then, JD closed the journal and shoved it between his mattress and box spring – it was one less thing he needed Turk to find and then tease him about.  Before drifting off to sleep, JD promised himself that he’d pay extra close attention to Perry in the following weeks.

                 Typical, JD thought to himself.  Turk had bailed on him again for some of his surgery buddies and a game of basketball. They’d agreed to meet up for drinks at the bar just down the street from the hospital, but now JD was sitting on a stool all by himself and there were hardly any attractive people there.  Turk had always been a decent wingman, at least when it came to the ladies, and guys seemed to like JD naturally without much effort on his part.  He’d been told on more than one occasion that it was those nice, full lips of his.  He giggled to himself as he took a sip of his appletini – his fourth one of the night – and wondered absently if Dr. Cox liked his lips.

[haechan-haedamn]

it’s two a.m. - Haechan

*it’s two in the morning, you don’t know how to say no to a bet, you forgot your gloves outside, and there is something moving behind you.

Characters: Haechan, Reader, Mark

Pairing: Haechan/Reader

Genre: Fluff 

Word Count: 4K

Somedays you needed to sit yourself down in front of a mirror and have a serious, personal conversation about your impulse control. Sometimes it worked out fine for you, ending with an ultimate face off with your fear of heights on a cliff edge (you didn’t even flinch on Ferris Wheels anymore) and other times it landed you in situations much like the one you were in now. The kind where you were by yourself in the middle of the night, in somewhere clearly housing a poltergeist, while your idiot friends laughed safely and decidedly not located inside an abandoned mall.

Really, you blame Mark for his stupid comments and his stupid way of knowing how to push your buttons. He always knew how to make you do something, and he was especially motivated when it would almost guarantee you being pissed or scared pissing. This was one of those times.

The worst part of it all wasn’t that you were all alone with a dim flashlight in a two-story knock-off of the Mall of America, or the cobwebs that were stuck to your elbow- no, the worst of it all was that you had left your wool gloves outside, with Mark. Your hands were cold and your jacket’s pockets offered nothing but a flimsy excuse for warmth, and you still had fifteen minutes left on your phone’s timer. The half-dozen box of donuts Mark’s wallet was going to buy you were probably warm, melting into vats of sugar after they were freshly baked.

Your stomach growled at your motivation. You couldn’t wait to get those donuts and you couldn’t wait to not share them with Mark Lee.

You walked slowly through one of the many, vast corridors, your flashlight flickering as it bumped against your thigh. The broken skylights above filtered stabs of starlight onto the dust-covered tile that used to be flooring. All of the stores were closed tightly with gates, the insides long empty and left to rot, the metallic-plastic of the black bars mattifying under the swing of your beam. A rat ran across the floor in front of you, hiding amongst a pile of long-forgotten boxes.

You really hated small rodents.

The bet was so simple, but as you travelled farther into the building you felt yourself regretting your decision more and more. The comforting skylights eventually forego into tarp covered plaster, blocking out the remnants of natural light with finality. Your skin began to crawl as the walls began to deteriorate, the feeling of small, jagged-foot ants tapping into your spine. Your foot caught the edge of a broken tile that layered over the rest, latching your boot beneath it as you pitched forward, barely regaining your balance in time.

Your shoe’s sole shuffled against the old ground, making a sound similar to a wind gush during a silent storm, calling out to ancient energies with a neon sign. Something shifted behind you.

Now frozen to the pattern of the mall, your foot caught into a cracked linoleum square, you began to list off as many curses you knew towards Mark.

Another shuffle. The sound of faint footsteps, of calculated breathing.

Maybe donuts weren’t worth a premature death.

Your own breathing had stopped, clogging in your throat like the dust bunnies in the corner, your leg molded stiff as your left knee locked. You began to pull frantically at your foot, but your shoe was stuck tight into the valley, and the weight had shifted towards your ankle. The pour of the tile was scratched from the edge, and the terrain was cutting into the skin of your tendons- but at this point your fear was so palpable it was hazing over the pain like a memory from your childhood. It was insignificant in the scheme of things when you were about to be possessed by the angry spirit of a Paris-Hilton-wannabe mall rat who had found you on their turf.

Your breathing had changed from nonexistent to a frenetic stutter, a heavy gasp coughing out of your throat as you sucked in the musk of the air. You were going to kill Mark if you ended up dead. Your ankle was starting to sting and something wet was seeping into your socks, soaking the rim like a rain puddle.

The footsteps were heavier now, close to your shivering frame. A shrill, violent screech catalyzed your own return- your scream filtering and echoing in the once-vacant mall.

“Who’s there!” a frantic yell attacked your ears as you crouched and cowered, your hands clutching the sides of your head.

The voice didn’t sound like a ghost.

But you really didn’t know what ghosts sounded like, anyway.

“I heard someone scream!” the voice whisper-yelled, “I know someone else is here!”

You muttered prayers absently as you curled in on yourself, your leg still bleeding and hammering in pain to the tune of shuffling steps. The thing was coming slower now, and you could imagine the creature crawling- it’s head rotating as it threw its voice in a false comfort. A light coaxed from behind you, the feeling of it breaking on your skin in a lukewarm whisper as you sat, grasping your arms and predicting your imminent death.

“Whoa…” the voice came again, now paces away and shocked.

Shocked?

You shuddered. “Hey… are you okay?” the voice asked.

In a cautious rotation, you leaned and tried to crane your neck around to see the source of the mysterious voice, but in vain you were met with the view of a dim yellow light. You couldn’t see past it, but the steps were only a couple paces from trampling you (or so you expected that to be their intention).

The thing was right beside you now, and the presence felt warm, like the summer afternoon and warm coffee in early autumn. You turned your head slowly again, half-expecting to see the grudge’s final form before you. The thing was close enough this time for your eyes to adjust to their figure and expression. What you didn’t expect to see was the contorted worry of a teenage boy.

A very pretty teenage boy.

“I asked if you were okay,” he restated, slowly reaching out to shake your shoulder. You were almost certain you were blushing at this point, embarrassed of your irrational fear and mental breakdown- now extremely aware that you were crouched on the molded floor. And that your ankle was hurting, burning- badly.

“Shit,” you hissed, your hands coming to place pressure on your bone and bleeding wound, but you still couldn’t reach the real injury as your ankle was still lodged under the tile.

“That’s not a usual answer to ‘if you’re okay’, but I think I can let it slide,” the boy joked, not realizing your compromising position against the ground.

“I’m not okay,” you seethed, “I feel like someone just snapped my ankle with their bare hands and then sloshed lemon juice over the places their nails had raked.”

“Violent.”

“Well, yeah,” you rolled your eyes in a testimony to his obliviousness, “I usually get creative when I’m in pain.”

“Pain-?”

Not knowing this strange boy (who was wondering around a dark, abandoned mall on his own without reason), you resisted the urge to reach out and punch his leg in the middle of your frustrations.

“Yes. Pain, P-A-I-N,” you started gesturing towards the large four by four square of thick murder that was stabbing and crushing you, “Do you mind offering a hand here, Scooby?”

He quickly washed the beam of his light over to where you were pointing, his tan face paling considerably as he dropped to his knees to help you. He curled his fingers under the ledge of the tile, his knuckles pushing up against your bare calf, before lifting with a held breath. The tile flipped over onto it’s back, letting gravity drag it pitifully into the hearth with a loud crash. You whimpered when you finally felt the realization of the full extent of your pain, observing the awkward twist of your ankle and the gash across it- still leaking wet, hot red blood into your shoe and staining the fungi-infested cement that was revealed after the tile was gone.

“Oh,” the boy commented eloquently, “That really doesn’t look good.”

“You think?” you bit back, not able to hold your tongue as shocks of misery raced up the nerves in your leg.

He reached down and lifted you upwards, his right hand coming to grasp the circumference of your biceps, the other pushing into your back as he struggled to support your wavering body. Your head felt light.

“How did you… well, I’m not sure what you did- but how did this happen?” he asked, his arm coming to wrap around your shoulders as you threatened to collapse, your balance unsteady on your one good foot and blood rushing to your head.

“I was casually exploring this horrifying building,” you started. Leaning your shoulder into his broad chest, “because my friend bet me that I couldn’t last 17 minutes in here, and then suddenly my foot was trapped and you were appearing from the ashes like a poorly executed exorcism.”

“Why poorly executed?”

“Because obviously, the demon had not left.”

He scoffed, digging the pads of his finger into your body in annoyance, and you frowned as you looked up to glare at him. His face was making it minorly hard to be pissed- from his deep eyes to pouty lips, the softness that exuded from him was enough to wisp some of the steam away from your anger. But not enough for you to hold back on insulting his dimwitted approach to the stranger (you were the stranger this time) in a dark, haunting mall.

“Am I not helping you right now?” he snipped back, making obvious motions to the fact that he was the only thing helping you from getting re-acquainted with the evil flooring.

You shrugged slightly, hopping as you tried to shift your weight, letting your arm wrap around his waist as a reflexive attempt to regain stability before you pivoted forward- again. “You are helping now, but you were also giving me a heart attack three minutes ago. So, I’m sorry I’m not inclined to kiss your feet at the moment.”

“Does that mean you’ll kiss them later?” he teased and you grimaced at him, your nose scrunching up under his mischievous glance.

“Was that a poor attempt to flirt with me?”

He laughed (you decided you liked the sound), leaning into you playfully as he hefted you upwards again, righting your swaying frame. “You didn’t give me a lot of material to work with.”

“Then I’ll give you a tip.”

“Hm?”

“Try not sneaking up on girls… and avoiding lines that involve feet.”

“Noted,” he conceded, attempting to step forward and help you at the same time. You weren’t expecting the sudden movement and your other foot twisted strangely, sending you sideways and slipping from the boy’s grasp. He quickly reached out for you, his hand latching to your wrist as he spun you back towards him. You came around in a quick circle, landing before him with your forehead to his chin, your hands pressing into the soothing material of his hoodie. You cleared your throat and he took a small step back.

Now knowing what he was trying to do you were much more cooperative in moving towards an exit, taking small hops with his steps and limping back the way you had come and he had appeared from. The bottom of your jeans was now a russet color, sticking sickly to your skin- letting the cold air press into the wound.

On top of it all- your hands were still cold.

“My name isn’t Scooby, by the way,” Mall Boy told you, the sleeve of his overcoat grazing the underside of your wrist as you wobbled through the damp halls.

“I’d hope not,” you snarked, “If anyone named their kid ‘Scooby’ that would be enough to file a child abuse report.”

“What if they named them ‘Donghyuck’?” he prompted.

You smiled at him, raising your eyebrows facetiously. “Not much better in my book, but much more manageable. I’m sure a Donghyuck would only be bullied the appropriate amount through his childhood, but it may lead to weird hobbies- like sneaking around deserted shopping malls at two in the morning.”

“You can call me Haechan, then,” he stated, helping you over a rougher patch of terrain, his hand (so unbelievably warm, and so completely unfair) grasping yours to keep you standing tall.

“I guess you can call me Y/N,” you returned, slipping back into the growingly familiar stability of his arm.

“You guess?” he teased, “Are you not 100% sure about that name?”

“Well I’ve never seen my birth certificate, so…”

He hummed, pointing towards the main entrance of the building where you had come from, the lock still laying into the ground where you and Mark had popped it off earlier that week during one of your explorations.

“You might want to check up on that,” he said, referring back to your previous comment on your birth certificate, “You may be a lost princess or something equally inspirational for a Y.A. Novel.”

“You’re right,” you nodded, “I could have a huge inheritance right below my nose. I could use it to make sure no more malls get neglected and turn into horror houses.”

He agreed with you as he helped you lean against a wall, his thin fingers splayed against your hips. You dropped your head backwards, watching him carefully as he yanked the reluctant entrance door open.

He wasn’t very tall, but he was well built and proportional. He had a comfortable confidence that fell on his face (maybe a mask, maybe a truth) and his brown hair fanned across his forehead in peaceful waves. He turned his head slightly to check up on you, the soft outdoor light catching against his jawline and turning his eyes a mahogany brown. You blushed as he smirked knowingly, having caught you observing him with critical intensity.

“Enjoying the view?” he jested and you rolled your eyes even though your face was still aflame.

“It's better than the distorted hellion I was imagining when I first heard you,” you admitted, playing through your embarrassment with purpose, trying to turn your cards back into his hands.

“I'm going to take that as a compliment… and also as your weird way for asking my number,” he said, pulling you off the wall and twisting his arm back around your waist, this time allowing his fingers to tap into your stomach through the fabric of your clothing.

“What part of ‘distorted hellion' translated into ‘please, give me a way to contact you'?”

“English isn’t my first language.”

You laughed at that, sending his sarcastic smirk into a wide-blown grin, lighting up his face with a carelessness you enjoyed more than you should from a stranger. He watched you in wonderment, his other hand coming to hold the wrist that was covering your giggling mouth, pulling it away gently so he could see your whole face. You blushed again.

He winced slightly when your wrist had met his hand, his mind immediately taking notice of the arctic characteristics of your hand.

“God, why are your hands so cold?” he hissed, fully enveloping your bluing fingers into his warm palms, rubbing circulation back into them slowly.

“I got distracted by the thought of getting donuts after winning the bet, so I left my gloves with Mark,” you muttered, shrugging sheepishly as you both paused at the curb of the old parking lot. A flash of cold air befell onto you, reminding your distracted brain of the slow blood that pooled inside your shoe and the sting of your jagged cut.

“Mark?” Haechan asked, not noticing your hidden grimace as he maneuvered you off the raised block of cement, lifting you with ease.

“The asshole that sent me into the B-Movie horror set behind us,” you explained, falling slightly into him as you regained your faulty footing.

“Boyfriend?” he inquired sourly, a hint of disappointment clouding his focus.

You laughed. “Oh God no, I love Mark, but I saw that kid go through puberty- I could never think of him romantically.”

“Oh,” Haechan smiled, “good.”

“Good?”

“Yes, good,” he stressed as you walked across the parking lot, towards the area you had left Mark in, “it would be really hard to flirt with you if you were in a relationship.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “You’re very forward, you know?”

“It's not everyday I get the chance to meet a pretty girl inside a creepy ass mall, then help her hobble outside after scaring the shit out of her, so I'm taking it as a sign from God,” he told you seriously and you smirked at him, amused by his over-dramatic interpretations of your meeting.

“Fair enough.”

“So that means I get your number, right?”

“Only if you use it for good.”

“Fair enough,” he mimicked you, smiling happily as you paused under an inactive street light.

“Y/N?” a surprised voice yelled from an unknown corner, and Mark appeared from the shadows of a small grove, his face screwed into worry.

“Geez, I thought you were dead- it's been a lot longer than seventeen minutes,” he panted, running towards you and Haechan before stopping in confusion, his thumb coming up to point at Haechan's amused expression.

“Who is this?”

“Crazy mall boy who is trying to create a new ‘Mystery Gang’,” you replied, still holding onto Haechan.

“What’s with you and Scooby Doo references?” Haechan asked, giving you a perplexed look. You shrugged, ignoring the still confused expression on Mark’s face.

“We used to watch them religiously when we were kids,” Mark interrupted.

“Really? Cool.”

Mark nodded, his body posture screaming stand-offish, hands stuffed deep in his coat’s pockets as he flickered his eyes between yours and Haechan’s bodies. Your two still very close bodies. You flushed under Mark’s watchful gaze, prying yourself away from Haechan’s heat slightly.

“I hurt my ankle,” you blurted out as a serving to explanation, your hand pointing to your stained jeans and lifted foot.

“Oh- yikes,” Mark shuddered, “How the hell did you pull that?”

“Some dislodged tile decided to launch a surprise attack on me, and then Haechan showed up and saved my sorry ass- but only after he scared the living hell out of me.”

“I said I was sorry,” Haechan protested, his bottom lip puckering as he widened his eyes.

“You literally never said ‘sorry’,” you corrected, squinting at him.

“Well, I’m saying it now,” he whined, poking your ribs.

Mark cleared his throat before you both got lost in your sparring again. “Okay, as seriously entertaining as this is- who are you?”

“Haechan,” he said, extending the hand that wasn’t on you to Mark, clasping the older boy’s palm and shaking it loosely.

“I’m Mark.”

Haechan let a spark of recognition light on his face before turning to you. “He made the bet?”

“Yeah,” both you and Mark said, the latter scratching his neck and shifting his weight- still unsure of the situation.

“You mentioned there were donuts involved,” Haechan said.

“I did,” you replied slowly, still not catching on to what Haechan was trying to say.

Haechan wrapped you tighter in his arm, pulling your body back towards his like you were old friends and not a pair of strangers that had met at two in the morning in an empty mall. His hand pulled the edges of your coat tighter together, letting his curled fist rest on your abdomen. It felt weirdly domestic and entirely strange for this boy who you had greeted by insult ten minutes ago. But for some reason, you didn’t step away- you didn’t stop him.

“I vote we fix your ankle and then Mark gets donuts,” Haechan offered looking between the two more experienced friends.

“Why do you get donuts?” Mark asked.

“Because I had to drag your bestie through a creepy mall at two a.m. and now I really want a donut,” Haechan explained as if it made perfect since, and you shrugged while looking towards Mark- not seeing a fault in his logic. Except-

“You didn’t seem to mind ‘dragging’ me, Haechan, so I don’t know why you get a reward,” you teased, tugging on one of the strings of his hoodie.

“I second that,” Mark agreed.

“You just don’t want to buy more donuts,” Haechan said to Mark before turning to you, “And I didn’t mind dragging you, I minded the fact that I felt serial killer eyes all over me when I was walking through there.”

“Yeah, that’s understandable,” you conceded, turning back to face Mark as your finger lingered on Haechan’s hoodie, “he has a valid point Mark- it’s creepy as fuck in there.”

“Fine, but first you need medical attention,” Mark said, coming towards your other side and hauling your arms around his neck to help carry you- much to Haechan’s sarcastic thanks as he acted like supporting you had given him more back pain than a wheelchair ridden seventy-year-old man.

“I also want coffee,” you told Mark, leaning most of your weight into Haechan (you couldn’t help it, he was just so warm), “as compensation for my injury- either that or I pull out my lawyer.”

“I’d rather get sued than give you what you want,” Mark rolled his eyes, turning in the direction he had parked his car an hour earlier.

Haechan’s breath fanned against your ear as he leaned down. “I’ll get you a coffee,” he amended and you nodded your head with a smile as you looked at him. The pain in your foot had lessened and you could either attribute that to the comfort expanding in your stomach under Haechan’s gaze or to the spreading numbness in your ankle’s bones.

“Oh come on,” Mark’s annoyed huff let out, “I am three inches away- can you not wait to flirt when I’m not close enough to hear both of your dumb heartbeats?”

You laughed at Mark’s frustration, knowing to him it was like watching his younger sister sweet talk a boy right in front of him, but it didn’t stop you from pushing the hand wrapped around Haechan’s back into the pocket of his overcoat- finally finding a warm place for your fingers.

“Don’t be bitter just because you lost a bet, Mark,” you laughed.

“I’m not bitter,” he muttered bitterly.

“And I’m not getting a dozen donuts later- oh wait!” you said, placing a finger to your chin as if you had just remembered something.

“We agreed on half a dozen,” Mark argued, unlocking his car with his clicker before opening the backseat for you to slide in, letting you prop your foot across the bench seat.

“That was before I got hurt,” you said.

“Also I have a big appetite,” Haechan supplied, his hand slipping from around your ankle as he pulled away with Mark to enter the front seats.

“You two are going to be an insufferable duo,” Mark sighed, starting the ignition and pulling out into the faded night.

You and Haechan laughed, his eyes catching yours in the rearview mirror as they curved upwards. Small shop lights fluttered through the windows, catching on Haechan’s grin in a fluorescent haze, ghosting across his tan features like paint strokes. You decided Mark wasn’t going to get killed for sending you alone into the mall, because you wouldn’t have stumbled across this peculiar boy with mirth that dripped off his lashes like Hermes’ himself. You let your head rest against the cool window, closing your eyes with the flame of Haechan’s gaze still on you like an electric current, seeping into the quiet of the song on the late-night radio station you and Mark loved.

You had won two things from the bet that night, and both would leave a sweet taste in your mouth when the sun rose.

FIN.