#possibly as a stacked bar chart

[adara-writer]

For anyone who's a numbers nerd like me, I've been keeping track of the kudos on my fic Silver Shackles (data via the daily emails from ao3). I plotted both overall kudos vs time, as well as the amount of kudos gained on each day.

I think it's interesting (but not surprising) how clearly you can see when I post a new chapter, as well as the diminishing returns on each new chapter being posted. I expect that this trend will continue due to the fact that although I gain more readers over time, each reader can only leave 1 kudos and the amount of new readers will likely go down. However, I do expect that whenever I finish this, I will get another large spike because of all of the readers who only read completed fics.

[fourhornedsatyr]

I love Cassette Beasts.

As someone who is an avid fan of Monster Collector games, and who most fondly remembers Pokemon B&W and Digimon D&D from the DS era, I only have good things to say about my first four hours of playing Cassette Beasts by Bytten Studio.

So, I'm gonna talk about it.

Gameplay

The Transformation Mechanic & Record (capture) mechanic

Unlike most games of the genre, you do not summon/control the monsters you use to fight, but rathee you become them -- digimon frontier style. Your avatar & a companion fight using cassettes that have copied the essence of the monsters you encountered (captures work like an alternate of the data copy mechanic of the digimon turn based rpgs).

You effectively have two health bars, that of your monster form & that of your human self, and once your monster form takes enough damage the cassette will break. Upon breaking you will revert to your human form and take on any overflow damage. If you are attacked before it is your turn to select another cassette, then you will receive damage and hence have to worry about your own health. There is no way to replenish the health of human characters in combat, at least none that I have accessed.

Furthermore, many of your status effects, buffs, & debuffs carry over from one transformation to another. This leads to a lot of stacking possibilities, but also means that one much be cautious, think wisely, and manage their defence and type matchups.

When recording/capturing monsters as well, you have to leave your monster form and are vulnerable. Despite having a good chunk of hp it is still wise to protect your human characters via walls & taunts to improve your chances of successfully copying a beast & sustaining minimal damage. This adds an enjoyable complexity to the capture stystem.

Type Matchups & Dynamic Interactions.

Speaking of type matchups, the type interactions are marvelously impressive & complex!

There are 14 types that are inspired by both naturally occuring aspects/materials/elements of the world and anthropogenic ones. Many of these typings can be thought of with a twisted pokemon logic (ground beats lightning, fire consumes poison, water & air put out fire), but we also have the celestial type, which draws from the natural typings and is weak to anthropogenic typings such as metal, plastic, & poison (it thematically (& vaguely mechanically) reminds me of holy & dark digimon types).

Furthermore, many type interactions include buffs & debuffs. Earth slows down plastic types, poison fuels fire types, lightning electrifies the air, and celestial absorbs the energies of natural typings.

BUT THERE'S MORE! Metal types can be coated in poison after interacting with poison type moves and can then deal poison contact damage! When fire types attack air types an updraft is formed that gives the air types a shield! I HAVEN'T EVEN MENTIONED TRANSMUTATIONS! When fire types attack ice types, the latter will gain the water coating effect and will become water types! Likewise, electric attacks can turn ground types into glass!

The dynamics of type interactions is amazing, and makes gamplay so enjoyable.

(Type matchup chart, wiki.CassetteBeast.com/wiki/types)

Fusion

As far as I am aware all cassette beasts are monotype unless they are fused. This is a major mechanic in the game that serves to create a new monster during a fight that shares most of the moves of you and your companion's monster forms.

Yet, while you can do this after filling up a meter that takes, usually, multiple fights to fill, the wild monsters can also do this. These Rogue Fusions pose a unique threat as once defeated they will defuse with full hp and you will then have to fight the two that were fused -- just as what happens when you defuse.

Though there are unique fusions that do have interesting and enjoyable dynamics I have not yet acquainted myself with too many and will not delve too heavily into this topic.

One aspect of the fuse that I will discuss further is the music.

Atmosphere & World Elements

The Music

The music in this game is amazing. The music for the basecamp village of Harbour Town is amazing and nails the theme of the town and the initial emotions of the game wonderfully. Much of the music in combat is dynamic and will change depending on the state of the battle, often playing wonderful vocal pieces after drawing first blood post-fusion (the music changes depending on the fusion too). I fucking love it.

The Land Keepers

There are vampire landlords called landkeepers that you fight in the game to keep them from gentrifying the island.

(Wiki.CassetteBeasts.com/wiki/Landkeeper)

Look at that freak! They are capitalist estate agents whose only goal is to setup an exploitative economic system on the island of New Wirral. One of your companion's whole quest line is shutting them down!

●●●

I love this game.

[thelensofyashunews]

Key Glock Continues His May Hot Streak With a Flute-Driven New Banger

An independent force in rap music since his teens, Memphis star Key Glock does not mess around. Offering a taunting warning to anyone who might try him, the Paper Route Empire artist shares "F*ck Around & Find Out," his new single and music video. "F*ck Around & Find Out" is an uptempo, flute-driven banger. Glock slides through the flute loops with panache, effortlessly stacking punchlines and flexes that he knows his competitors couldn't possibly match: "Yeah my shirt wrinkled, but I still brought that iron out/Beefin' with the kid, I guarantee you gettin' slimed out," spits Glock. In the video, now trending at #21 on YouTube, Glock retreats to the mountains of Colorado, vibing in his mansion with his custom Louis V slippers as he gets a haircut before his sold out Red Rocks show.

"F*ck Around & Find Out" is the second of five new singles that Glock plans to release this month. "F*ck Around & Find Out" follows last week's "The Greatest," a Bandplay-produced single. Earlier this morning, Glock shared the video for "The Greatest," showcasing his custom yellow Cybertruck. The five-pack of singles arrives during the fifth month, and serves as a tribute to Paper Route Empire and Glock's cousin and mentor Young Dolph. #PRE5L

The new singles and music videos arrive on the heels of "Let's Go (Remix)," which reunites Key Glock and Young Dolph over triumphant production. Peaking at #59 on the Billboard Hot 100, Dolph's remix added fuel to the fire of "Let's Go," which was already one of the biggest hits of Key Glock's career. The song racked up hundreds of millions of streams, reached the Top 5 on Urban Radio, and has earned play in sports stadiums across the globe. The song inspired a cinematic video, directed by Chris Villa, a 7-minute epic for which the young rapper learned fight choreography and did his own stunts (10 million views to date). The song is a mainstay on the Billboard Hot Rap Songs chart (#20 peak) and Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Songs chart (#20 peak), and spent nine weeks on the Billboard Hot 100. "Let's Go" is the standout track from Glockoma 2 (Deluxe), an expansion of his February 2023 album Glockoma 2, which spent 8 weeks on the Billboard 200, peaking at #13. Last month, Key Glock united with Brazilian producer Alok, one of the world's most popular EDM artists, for a high octane "Let's Go" (Alok Remix).

In April, Key Glock performed for the first time at Red Rocks Amphitheater in Colorado, headlining a bill that also featured Young Nudy and BigXThaPlug. The young rapper sold out the show, performing his hits in front of 10,000 adoring fans, and even inviting a lucky few onstage to rap along with songs by Key Glock and Young Dolph. The Red Rocks performance continued momentum that started in 2023 with Glock's fast-selling SiriusXM’s Hip-Hop Nation Presents: Key Glock – Glockoma Tour,” with support from XXL Freshman TiaCorine, Dallas riser BigXThaPlug, and his PRE associates including Kenny Muney and Jay Fizzle. 

Now with more than 15 million monthly listeners on Spotify, multiple Hot 100 hits to his name, and 59k tickets sold in 2023 alone, Key Glock is on the brink of taking his no-holds-barred Memphis sound to the mainstream. Stay tuned for much more music from Key Glock in May.

[eurovision-revisited]

Eurovision 2003 - Number 43 - Bubbles - "TKO (Knock You Out)"

Formed in a dance studio in the late 1990s and pushed by the Ace of Bass production axis, Bubbles are a girl group who would have been familiar to Swedes in 2003. They'd had several top 10 hits starting in 2000 as well as managing to get a song on the soundtrack for Ice Age.

When I say girl group here, I mean children. When they met and formed the band they would not yet have been teenagers. There are actually five members of Bubbles in total. The reason that only three members are on the stage at Melodifestivalen is that two members of Bubbles, Jenny Andersén and Hannah Steffenburg were still only 15 and Melfest, like Eurovision itself, has a 16-year old minimum age limit.

2003 also happened to be the first year of Junior Eurovision, but Bubbles were probably already too big for that (as well as just turning 16) - even if the main consumers of their music were young teenagers and children themselves. Melodifestivalen was their push into the grown-up music world.

TKO (Knock You Out), aptly, feels like a work-out song. A strong beat and lots of encouragement to dance or possibly spar. It's an out and out girl bop. There's a gap for a dance break which they don't really take full advantage of, however there's no doubting their qualities as singers and performers. For a trio of 16 year olds, their confidence and stage presence is incredibly assured. Caroline Ljungström, and Patricia and Sandra Joxelius are pitch perfect even while performing some of the more vigorous choreography to be seen on the Melfest stage this year. You can tell they've actually been doing this for at least three years already.

The song was written by a few people including Paul Rein, former Melfest competitor and Swedish star of the 1980s alongside Fredrik Lenander, producer and Eurodance purveyor from the 1990s. There is pop pedigree throughout this.

That this is their first Melfest is therefore only down to their ages. They're the perfect pop product whom their managers and promoters were no doubt hoping would go on to much bigger things. (i.e. Eurovision). It didn't happen. They finished third in their heat, then went into what was an absolutely stacked Viewer's Choice final. They managed to get second in that, once again scraping through. In the final, they finished 9th out of the 10 songs but sadly didn't get a single televote point.

It did, however, score them another top 10 hit in the Swedish charts. They continued to other successes and for a time changed their name to Bless to avoid a copyright/brand-confusion situation internationally. Eventually their output stopped. A planned album and single didn't emerge and Caroline left to go solo. By 2009 the band had split, although all the messaging was directed through their record label and management.

Child stars grow up and often decide that now they get to make decisions for themselves - they want to do something completely different. What exactly happened doesn't appear to have emerged into the public sphere and barring Caroline, nothing has been heard from any of the members since.

[leebird-simmer]

Statistics: Display and Shape

1 Categorical Variable: Class Make-up

Comparative Bar Charts

allows us to look at multiple groups of one categorical variable

can be a stacked bar graph or a clustered bar graph

One Quantitative Variable

A. Examining Quantitative Data

distribution = tells all possible values of a variable and how frequently they occur

Summarize distribution of a quantitative variable by telling shape, center, and spread.

Shape = tells which values tend to be more or less common.

Center = measure of what is typical in the distribution of quantitative variable.

Spread = measure of how much the distribution's values vary

B. Displays

Stemplot - advantage: most detail - disadvantage: impractical for large datasets

Histogram - advantage: works well for any size dataset - disadvantage: some detail lost

Dotplot - advantage: can show outliers - disadvantage: much detail lost

Stem Plot

quantitative data

combines the characteristics of a table and a graph

general steps: (1) Separate each observation into a stem (first part of number) and a leaf (remaining part of number) (2) Write the stems in a vertical column; draw a vertical line to the right of the stems. (3) Write each leaf in the row to the right of its stem; order leaves if desired.

Stem: 10's digit

Lead: 1's digit

5 I 3 = 53

Constructing Stem Plots

Comparative Stem Charts

used for comparison of two groups of 1 quantitative variable - ex. Compare exam scores from two classes.

Dot Plots

used for 1 quantitative variable

similar to a stem + leaf plot; each dot represents one value

Ex. An instructor has obtained the set of N=25 exam scores: 82, 75, 88, 93, 53, 84, 87, 58, 72, 94, 69, 84, 61, 91, 64, 87, 84, 70, 76, 89, 75, 80, 73, 78, 60

Histograms

Show possible values of a quantitative variable along the horizontal axis, with vertical bars showing the count, percentage, or proportion of values in certain interval ranges.

shows quantitative data ONLY

display of a grouped frequency distribution

adjacent bars touch each other

Divide the possible values into class intervals (equal width). - How many intervals? One rule is to calculate the square root of the sample size and round up. - Size of intervals? Divide range of data (max-min) by number of intervals desired and round up. - Pick intervals so each observation can only fall in exactly one interval (no overlap). maximum-minimum/number of intervals

Count how many observations fall in each interval (may change to proportion or percentages).

Draw representation distribution.

Ex. An instructor has obtained the set of N=25 exam scores:

82, 75, 88, 93, 53, 84, 87, 58, 72, 94, 69, 84, 61, 91, 64, 87, 84, 70, 76, 89, 75, 80, 73, 78, 60

Grouped frequency distribution histogram vs. stem plot.

The stem plot is placed on its side to demonstrate that the display gives the same information provided in the histogram.

Scatterplots

Used for displaying the relationship between two quantitative variables.

Ex. Compare students' exam 1 vs exam 2 scores.

Interpreting Histograms

When describing the distribution of a quantitative (interval or ratio) variable, we look for the overall pattern and for striking deviations from that pattern. We can describe the overall pattern of a histogram by its shape, center (central tendency) and spread (variability).

Shape of Distribution

A symmetric distribution has a balanced shape, showing that it is just as likely for the variable to take lower values as higher values.

A skewed distribution is lopsided:

skewed left: few values that are relatively low compared to the bulk of the data

skewed right: few values that are relatively high compared to the bulk of the data values

Outliers

Extreme values that fall outside the overall pattern.

may occur naturally

may occur due to error in recording

may occur due to measurement error

observational unit may be fundamentally different

After identifying potential outliers, investigate why they obtain unusual values.

More Specific Shapes

unimodal distribution: has one peak

bimodal distribution: has two peaks

uniform distribution: has no peaks, showing that all possible values are equally common

normal distribution: symmetric, unimodal, "bell-shaped" or "mound-shaped" pattern

[ghor-dranas]

Don't be suspicious: Group Stealth Checks in Critical Role - Bells Hells edition!

Please read these two posts [x] [x] first to get a clearer understanding of what this project is!

In brief: a four part series of posts looking at group stealth checks from all 3 campaigns. All the math from this campaign is done by myself, but this project wouldn't have been possible without the work of @critrolestats [and I do apologise for tagging you in all of these, I just want to give credit where credit is due].

Tonight, we celebrate the 51st episode of Campaign 3, the 8 year anniversary of Critical Role, and the Apogee Solstice! Bells Hells are trying to sneak their way through the Ruby Vanguard head quarters to destroy the Malleus Key, redeem Imogen's mother, and maybe even save the world? But to do all of that, they have to not get caught first! So let's have a look at their track record!

In the last 50 episodes, Bells Hells have made 30 group stealth checks. Their overall average is 18.92328.

We should all know by now that Chet is going to be the highest, but here's how everyone stacks up against each other.

As predicted, Chetney is significantly ahead of everyone else, although the other rogue in the party is only in 4th. Why is this? Because Fearne doesn't have proficiency in stealth. FCG has the lowest due to having permanent disadvantage.

Now let's take a look at the party's usage of Pass Without Trace.

Bells Hells only have Pass Without Trace cast 43.33% of the time, which is still pretty impressive considering that their main source of it is a genasi who can only cast it once a day. I say main source, because I am considering the Harrowcall Veils (a magic item gifted to the party by Morri which also provides a +10 bonus) a casting of Pass Without Trace for these statistics.

Above, we can see the comparative averages for when they cast Pass Without Trace versus when they didn't, and once more we are at an almost exactly 10 point difference!

Moving on, I remind you that "Group Stealth Check" in this series has a minimum requirement of 4 participants. The maximum we've seen thus far is 9 from Vox Machina, but I don't imagine we'll get that high with Bells Hells any time soon.

We have come pretty close though! Those four checks with 8 participants were achieved with the help of a guest! Let's see how many guests have participated in a group stealth check.

Ah. Yes, while there has been more than one guest in campaign three, only Dorian has participated in a group stealth check. As such, there is no reason to create a bar chart comparing them [and that joke is only funny once], so I will just tell you that his average is 16.8

This concludes my individual pages for each adventuring party! Please stay tuned for the comparison between them in the next post.

[nzdepot]

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[collegeafricagroup33]

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[journeyman-tier-fibercraft]

Under the read more is quite the photo dump. I wanted to see both doilies next to each other in their best possible showing (dark table, decent lighting) but that's a pretty small surface in my home so I got a LOT of photos in many different angles.

I think what really gets me about doily 9 is the decrease row being so visible and visibly cutting off the outside border portion from the inside. With any other designer I wouldn't think about that at all, everything else about doily 9 seems more intentional, but in the case of Niebling's designs it doesn't fit. Here you can see the other patterns published along side the original doily and they (for the most part) exhibit Niebling's penchant towards seamlessly flowing designs. If there's a sharp change in pattern, it always looks fully intentional. It doesn't look intentional in doily 9, at least not to me. (For some counter? examples I found several Niebling doilies with what seem to be decrease rounds that distort the stitches in a way that makes it highly visible. However I don't have access to all of the charts to check if they're decrease rounds or something else. Additionally I think none of these interrupt the flow of the pattern nearly as severely as the decrease row in doily 9.)

On the subject of the other works included in that particular publishing, Helenium some things in common with the original doily. You can take a look at the charts here, it also is knit with patterning worked every row, includes make 3 into 1 stitches stacked on top of each other, and has lines of stitches between yarn overs that are crocheted together during the bind off in a similar manner. None of this is particularly odd in Nieblings' work except the patterning worked every row. But the shared publishing and similar vibes is something to note. (As a side bar, Helenium with plain rows Might be possible, the beginning 20 rows as written increase either 4 or 8 stitches per row which isn't good. However, the last half of the first chart increases between 8 and 20 stitches per row. I'd have to do more math and possibly knit it to know for sure but I just don't love that design as much.)

TLDR; Doily 9 looks and knits more like what I would expect from a doily, but doily 8 looks more like I would expect from a Herbert Niebling design.

Both doilies next to each other. And one slightly confusing photo showing the different in size between them. The original doily is only barely larger than the center circle of doily 9.

Both doilies next to each other from the side light is coming from.

Both doilies next to each other from dark side. Standing at the edge of the table so maybe 3 ish feet away.

I made use of my ADHD hyperfocus and cast on this doily again. But instead of knitting the pattern as written like on the right, I knit One plain knit row between each pattern row. Same needles and yarn, no changes to the pattern otherwise. On pattern row 18 (actual rows knit 36) compared to the original pattern's 42 rows.

I'm SO interested in this, the in between rows make the yarn overs behave so much better. And the math checks out perfectly for this! Each row increases about 8 stitches every other row which is perfect for knitting a circle in the round. The ravelry page's example looks more like the fucked up one (doily 8) but I have to wonder if this pattern was originally written to worked like this new one (doily 9).

[dodgebolts]

Your data graph of all the streamers over time was very cool. Do you happen to have data for foolish as well? I think he's probably one of the best examples of a very small streamer taking the dsmp boost and successfully building his community from it.

I'm not sure I have one for foolish unfortunately :( he'd joined the smp a few weeks before I made that graph so I wouldn't have even thought to put him in because I didn't have the data

[fuckyeahcourtneylove]

Courtney’s green Mercury guitar.

This is a hugely detailed back story so bear with me. Less than 100 of these guitars were ever made – some even say as little as 30.

Tim George and Danny Babbitt were the original creators and designers behind Mercury Guitars – based in Atlanta, Georgia.

They started on the aesthetic development of the Mercury in early ’92. The actual shape was inspired by the smaller Rickenbackers.

It was originally called the “Gemini” – they wanted a name which was timeless and somehow they settled on ‘Mercury’.

The guitars were designed to be mass produced. This is the reason for the string through body design, it was a bunch cheaper - they actually got the parts from the hardware store.

The first Mercury prototype had a brown sunburst body. At this point, things started to go fast for Tim & Danny.

The original ones built were of various colours. Danny worked during the day at a huge store in Atlanta called Rhythm City and they allowed him to put the guitars in the store. They sold one to the band Collective Soul, they sold one to a guy in a band called Head Hunter. Another one was sold to the guitar player for Porno For Pyros. One was sold to Guy Picciatto of Fugazi.

They built a metallic green Mercury (a special vintage General Motors paint colour, a paint typically used for cars) for Tim personally. One night, Danny saw Nirvana was in town and he wanted to try and get it in front of Kurt. Somehow he got backstage and he met Courtney Love and she fell in love with the vintage green Mercury guitar and asked if he could sell it to her. Of course they could! They were now on cloud 9. This was huge. Soon after they sold Courtney the guitar, they went to another Nirvana show (they think Mississippi) and got back stage again. They met the band (minus Kurt) and pre-sold a guitar to Pat Smear and somehow got the go ahead to build one for Kurt. This was “off the charts” (according to Tim) and they went home in a daze. Pretty soon after this, Kurt passed away and Courtney went on tour.

Things after that got pretty tough for Tim & Danny – life became tumultuous due to some personal happenings (bad landlords, getting kicked out of their share house and having to get rid of their guitar making tools) and they grew apart emotionally and lost their passion for making guitars together.

Right before they left their home in Georgia, Courtney had called to ask for more guitars for the tour. This was not possible. “I don’t think we even replied. This was foolish because she probably would have paid for us to build a shop or at least bought us the tools we needed.” – Tim.

Some time passed.

“I saw the Hole “Violet” video one night at a bar and got to see our guitar make music video history. You will notice the Mercury 3+3 headstock in the video and the Mercury pick-ups. I went to see Hole play at Lollapalooza and saw our design on the big stage and cried. A Rolling Stone magazine image of her with the guitar was next. I was happy to have given something back to music/guitar history.” – Tim

The first time she used the Mercury was at Reading Festival in August 1994.

She adorned the guitar with 4 four leaf clover stickers at the bottom of the guitar (sometime between December 1994 and January 1995). One of them peeled off and she stuck it to the top. And the volume and tone knobs were eventually gaffa taped down to stick them in place because Craig Montgomery (Court’s guitar tech) was sick of her fucking with the sound (lol).

The Mercury was absolutely trashed and thrashed on stage during 1994 and 1995. You’ve seen the videos. It was roughed up pretty badly.

By July 1995, Courtney had added a new guitar to her touring repertoire (alongside the Mercury, a Univox among others): the Fender Venus. Seeing her play both the Mercury and Venus interchangeably, it was very evident that the Fender Custom Shop had directly copied the body shape of the Mercury with their normal hockey stick headstock.

I am unsure if this was sheer laziness on Fender’s part but the guys from Mercury didn’t appreciate this – as you can imagine. I think they wanted to sue, but two guys going up against a global giant probably wouldn’t bode well for them. Plus there’s some weird law that says you cannot patent guitar body shapes or something.

By the end of the 95 Hole tour, the Mercury was officially retired. When Hole started touring in 98/99, the Fender Venus was her go-to, alongside the occasional Telecaster or her vintage Gretsch.

Tim and Danny are still friends to this very day and are in constant search for one of the original guitars to come up for sale. They have have no complete Mercury’s left. Let me know if you run across one. They are planning on building the Mercury’s again one day when they get older just for the fun of it.

See below for some other photos: Tim & Danny with one of their Mercury guitars (these examples look like they are semi hollowbody’s rather than the solid body Courtney owned.) The bottom guitar in the stack of guitars picture is an example of a guitars they were in the midst of making for Kurt.

I wish I knew where the Mercury was.

[awhmilkywey]

burgers and fries | t. carrick |

pairing & genre: tobias carrick x f!mc (ava dahl) — fluffy as hell

warnings: one curse word | english is not my first language

word count: 2.4k

request | prompt | neither | challenge

tags: @usuallyamazinglyaverage ; @perriewinklenerdie ; @cyb3r-kat ; @moonsoltice ; @romewritingshop ; @tsrookie ; @hedwigsbixch

a/n: a special thank you to @usuallyamazinglyaverage @perriewinklenerdie and @cyb3r-kat for allowing me the use of their characters (anna dawson, claire herondale and bianca hemgrove, respectivel) and a bonus to perrie for being generally awesome and helping me out with this fic. You can thank her for the Romeo line!

Ava has a history of flouting protocol to assist her patients.

The machine whirred to life, shooting a steady stream of murky liquid into the small paper cup. Ava skimmed her medical chart while she waited. Her patient was a young adult who came in with severe chest pain and discoloured skin around her calves. The primary doctor wrote down that earlier scans ruled out heartburn as well as pericarditis. She reached for her coffee and took a cautious sip. The blemishes could point towards a blood clot—deep vein thrombosis, perhaps? It could quickly develop into a pulmonary embolism if left untreated.

The nurses' station was relatively quiet when she approached.

“Could you order a lung scan and a chest X-ray for my patient, please?”

Marlene took the chart with a professional nod. Her exhaustion matched her own.

Ava murmured a quiet thank you and tossed her cup in the bin. The results wouldn't be back for a couple hours. If her hunch was correct then she would most likely need to page the surgical department. For now, however, her rounds were finished and she could take a breather.

Her face twisted into a frown as she remembered her bag was still in the conference room. Her confrontation with Harper ensured she had been too uncomfortable to remain there. Ava decided to take the stairs one at a time. Saying she was dreading their next meeting was an understatement. They would need to have a serious conversation with Bloom. Ethan breaching protocol was on him alone. A conversation with Harper was in order as well; earlier she had been caught by surprise but she wouldn't let that kind of treatment stand. Barging in, wrongfully accusing her without any evidence whatsoever, yelling and refusing to believe her even when the culprit was standing right there—Ava wondered when the cool renowned surgeon became an unruly child.

The revelation that Harper still saw her as a reckless intern made her incredibly angry. Her one mistake happened over two years ago and she came forward to shoulder the blame. Ava had grown since then, both as a doctor and as a person. Her near-death experience also served to put things into perspective, to say the least. She would always have the best interest of her patients at heart but she would never again jeopardize her career so foolishly.

That thought brought her back to Ethan. Frankly she didn't recognise him any more. He came back from the Amazon a different man—one she wasn't sure she liked all that much. Their tentative relationship hadn't stood a chance. Him being her attending was difficult enough, then she was facing the possibility of being suspended, and just as she thought they could make it work after all, Naveen promoted her and Ethan was her superior once more. He maintained a painfully professional demeanour around her from there on out. Ava wasn't doing too great during that time.

And when her intern year came to an end, he disappeared. He wasn't answering her calls nor her texts and her trips to his apartment were fruitless. She found out he was out of the country through WHO's Instagram account. She stopped bothering afterwards.

Ava shook her head, red curls bouncing over her shoulders. Dwelling on the past wasn't helpful. Especially when the Ethan from her memories didn't correlate with the Ethan she was currently working with. Her most recent conversations with him left a sour taste in her mouth.

The conference room wasn't as empty as she expected.

“Heading out?” Tobias sent her a warm smile.

“I've some free time to kill.”

He nodded in understanding. “Holding up okay?”

Ava hesitated. It occurred to her that he was the only person she was truly comfortable with on the team. The only one who'd never underestimated her or made her feel lesser.Tobias was the person who either supported her suggestions or countered them with his own logical arguments and used both as teaching opportunities.

“I've been through worse,” she replied, shrugging non-committally.

He scowled. “What Harper did was uncalled for.”

Ava offered him a wry smile. “I have a history, don't you see?”

“Oh you mean the history of being civil to Bloom even though you want to punch his face in?” he asked innocently.

A laugh bubbled up in her chest and he soon followed with his own deep chuckle.

“There's this place downtown.” He sobered up but was still grinning. “One of my favourites, if you want to check it out.”

“What's in it for me?” Ava raised a playful eyebrow.

His eyes darkened, tongue briefly flickering out. “Good music, good books. We could get dinner after.”

Ava swallowed. “Sounds fantastic.”

Tobias' intense look softened. “It's a date,” he said cheekily.

She laughed again and swatted at his arm. “Lead the way, Romeo, before I change my mind.”

Bantering with him was easier than it should've been. Knowing how laid-back he could be when comfortable made her notice more about how he carried himself around the rest of the team. It gave her a small thrill to be able to witness that side of him.

Tobias drove her to a time-worn shop tucked away between a colourful diner and a boarded-up building. An old sign hung over the entrance reading The Starlight Den. The outer walls were covered in messy chalky drawings and splashes of peeling paint, broken crayons and plastic buckets sitting to one side. He laid a hand on her lower back, gently guiding her through the battered wooden door.

“I used to come here all the time as a kid,” he commented, glancing fondly around the shop.

Neutral colours predominated with the occasional vibrant hue flashing here and there. Bookshelves lined the left side, brimming with works from classics to comic books. Customers could settle down on various armchairs and sofas, reading under the light of several dimmed lamps. Ava slid her eyes from the makeshift coffee bar to the vintage posters on the opposite wall. A soft tune drifted from the gramophone in the corner. Neat stacks of vinyl records were arranged in polished boxes in the centre. A counter held several players for general use nearby.

“This is a dream come true,” Ava marvelled, running her fingertips across the book spines.

Tobias hummed, reaching to pluck a comic from the shelf. He presented it to her with a flourish. Spider-Man was holding a man clad in green on the cover.

“First introduction to Spidey. Also the first comic I ever read,” he disclosed, absently thumbing through the pages.

“I didn't know you read comics.”

Tobias cocked his head. “Haven't read them in a long while but they were a big part of my childhood.”

Ava cast a look about. “I can see why you'd like to come here.”

Two teenagers were hanging around a record player, giggling quietly to each other, while a sharply dressed man made small talk with the handsome man behind the register. The overall atmosphere was quite cosy. It felt a bit like home. When she returned her wandering gaze to Tobias, he offered her a knowing smile.

“I have an idea,” he announced with a quick clap of his hands. “We each pick a book and a record for the other. I have a player back at my apartment.”

Ava crossed her arms. “Is this a ploy to get me into your bed, Carrick?”

He raised his palms up in mock surrender. “Absolutely not. Just a ploy to get a pretty woman eating take-out on my couch.”

“From that diner next door?”

“Rosa makes the best burgers and milkshakes in Boston.” He gave a solemn nod, cracking up in the following beat.

Ava contemplated him. “It's a date.”

He lit up with a boyish smile.

She didn't know much about his likes and dislikes given that all their interactions revolved around their work. Browsing the bookcases, she opted to get him a copy of The Little Prince. She remembered her papa reading it to her when she was sick or when grief was heavier than most days. She picked up A Day at the Raceson her way to the counter.

“Don't peek,” Tobias warned after their purchases were done. “I'm going to get our food and then we can head back.”

“I want nuggets.” Ava blushed when her stomach growled.

He patted her head. “As you wish, m'lady.”

Ava watched him walk away, unable to remember the last time she was this happy. Tobias was so carefree. He didn't allow their work to burden him, always trying to finding the silver lining in each case, and refused to let it interfere with his life outside the hospital. It was a breath of fresh air, compared to her previous relationship with Ethan. Tobias was light where Ethan was dark.

The ride back to his flat was mostly quiet. He tapped on the wheel along with the song playing on the radio—she vaguely recognised it as being a new Ariana Grande single. She, on the other hand, was more occupied with staring out the window and trying to control her nerves. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, making her almost want to throw up. Tobias was undeniably attractive, charming and witty. And they were going to be alone at his place.

Ava choked on air.

He was quick to lay a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, hey, I got you.” At her lack of response, he slid his hand further and began to rub her back, eyes briefly leaving the road to look her over.

“I'm good,” she gasped.

His touch continued to burn her skin until the car was parked in his garage.

Tobias' flat was messier than she expected but not in the dirty sense of the word. It was a sort of organised chaos that breathed life into the walls. The coffee table peeked from beneath a mountain of medical journals, two blankets were thrown haphazardly on the couch with a pillow half-fallen on the carpet, like he had dozed off while reading. The telly was still on as well and she paused to watch Jessica Aniston and Matt LeBlanc acting on the screen.

He steered her towards the kitchen.

“I forgot to clean, sorry.” He seemed unusually sheepish.

“Mine's not much better, believe me,” she reassured him, squeezing his arm. She took the food bags from him and set them on the table. “Kitchen or living room?”

“Living room!” he called out from the pantry, coming out with a package of napkins and a container of assorted candy.

He had stored away the blankets and the pillow by the time she brought the food to the coffee table, journals stashed away in the corner bookcase. Ava noticed that he also changed into a looser tee, his biceps highlighted underneath the artificial lighting. He grabbed their purchases from the shop and turned to her with a bright smile.

“I realised we don't actually know each other that well,” he said, grabbing the book from the bag, “and I would like to remedy that.”

Ava accepted the gift, lips quirking up at the sight of the blue cover. “I've never read The Great Gatsby,” she informed.

His smile widened. “Let me know what you think when you're done, yeah?”

“I got you this one.” God she was nervous. “I, uh—I didn't know what you liked so I figured I'd give you one of my favourites. After my mum died... my dad used to read it to me as a kid.”

Tobias met her gaze and she was surprised to see him so serious. “I—Thank you, Ava. It means a lot that you would share that with me.”

She needed to look away. Was he getting closer?

Her stomach growled again.

“Eat,” he murmured, slowly leaning back. “I'll put the records on.”

He returned to the couch as the beginnings of Dancing Queenfilled the room. Ava beamed.

“How did you know?”

He popped a fry in his mouth. “I may have cheated on this one. Claire told me you were a fan.”

The mention of her friend warmed her heart. “I didn't know you and C were buddies.”

Tobias rubbed the back of his neck. “We're not, not really. I, um, went to ask her how you were after what happened. Anna and Hemgrove were gone already, so...”

His concern sent the butterflies into a frenzy. Ava focused on her burger so he wouldn't see the deep red staining her cheeks.

It was only two episodes into Friends that she noticed the missing fries in her plate. An indignant yelp was muffled by the food in her mouth. Tobias blindly reached for another one but she slapped his hand away, earning her a surprised squawk from the man. Ava made a move for his plate and was stopped when he put his arm between them, lifting the other up so she wouldn't touch his food.

“Oi! That's not fair!” she protested, not realising she was half-sitting on his lap as she tried to get her fries back.

“All's fair when you're hungry, sweetheart,” he retorted, laughing at her worthless attempts.

The loud sound of porcelain breaking was unmistakable. In an effort to get closer, she had pressed against his chest, their bodies practically glued together, and the twist of his wrist weakened his grip on the plate. Ava sunk into him in defeat and promptly peeped as her groin made contact with his.

“Shit, sorry Av—nghh...” He cut off with a strangled moan.

Ava hurried to relieve the pressure of her thigh on his crotch, feeling mortified.

“I'm sorry—” “Wait—” they spoke at the same time, both floundering.

“Just—wait.” Tobias held onto her hips, heaving out a frustrated sigh.

She would never admit to anyone that no, she very much did not want to move.

Except maybe to the girls, who would most definitely grill her tomorrow.

They remained in that exact position for a couple silent moments. Neither sure what to say nor how to act upon the revelation that they were entirely too comfortable physically for two people who were supposed to be just work acquaintances.

Up close, his eyes looked more green than brown. Ava told herself that she had bigger things to worry about.

But it was a pretty colour.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” he quietly confessed. “I have to know, though. Is—is there anything between you and Ethan?”

She let out a shaky breath, touching her forehead to his. “Not since last year.”

He gave a short nod, raising a hand to cup her face. “Could there be anything between us?”

“Why don't you kiss me and find out?” she whispered against his lips.

She felt his smile before he did.

[drariellevalentine]

A prompt where mc is unconscious in Ethan's arms.

Oof. This one really broke my heart.

This Is Me Trying

Pairing:- Ethan Ramsey x Arielle Valentine

Warnings:- angst. Major heart wrenching angst.

Takes place during the events of OHSY’s Chapter 5.

Song inspiration:- Folklore by Taylor Swift (I was listening to it on repeat the whole time)

Arielle’s PoV:-

Just when you’re about to take a break, you get paged by Eth- Dr. Ramsey. With a sigh, you turn around and walk towards the diagnostics office.

You step inside the diagnostics office as the glass doors open with a hiss to see Dr. Ramsey pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yes?”

He looks up, anger and irritation clear in his face. “I thought you had at least a bit of maturity but I can see that I was wrong.” You stifle the urge to roll your eyes.

“What did I do?”, you ask trying to keep your voice as level as possible noticing that June and Baz are in the room.

As soon as he hears your words, he gets up and slams a stack of papers in front of you. You pick them up to see the name “Gwyneth Monroe” on the top. You wince slightly.

“I thought I had specifically told you that the diagnostics team does not seek patients and that they come to us! I come in and receive the news that Gwyneth Monroe had been approached by a ‘Dr. Valentine’. The same person I said no to as for reaching out.”

“Well excuse me for trying to keep this team afloat! I was only doing what’s best for the team! And besides, by doing this we’ll still be able to treat patients who can’t afford treatment!”

“That’s what you think! The board is thrilled about this and Naveen has told me that the board wants us to ‘move our focus towards high-profile patients’.” His eyes are filled with fury.

“Well I’m sorry but you can’t expect me to just stand there doing absolutely nothing while this team sinks to the bottom.”, you shrug.

“Guys, you should calm down for a moment. The patient’s probably waiting for us and we don’t want to keep them waiting.”, Baz says tentatively.

“Oh yes, from now on just like Dr. Valentine wanted we need to provide all our special patients with VIP treatment!” Your anger flares as he pokes accusations at you.

“I never said that! I’m sorry but the only way that we can still keep running this team just like Naveen wanted is by changing and adjusting a little!”

“And what do you know about Naveen’s vision? Just because you are his goddaughter doesn’t give you more authority then the rest of us, nor does it to make decisions without my approval.” Your mouth drops open as you gape at him. Baz’s eyes widen as June speaks up. “Ethan, that’s extremely low.” Ethan scoffs.

“Seriously?! I thought you knew how hard I worked for this position! Turns out you think that I got into this fellowship because of Naveen and not because of my own damn effort.”

“Stop twisting my words, Arielle.”, he says giving you a death stare.

“I never twisted your damn words.”, you clap back.

“Well, maybe you’re still not ready for a position like this. Seeming that you can’t follow a simple set of instructions.”

“How many times do I have to say it?! I was doing what we needed to do in order to keep our team afloat!!”

“And I told you not to do something which is exactly what you’ve done! I thought you had learned your lesson from last year, but clearly I’ve misjudged you.”

“Don’t you dare bring last year’s events into this! That has nothing to do with this!”, you shout.

“It has the utmost important and impact. Clearly representing your lack of being able to follow a set of instructions!”

“I can’t believe you!”

“We’ll get used to it then. If you pull one more stunt like this, I won’t hesitate to terminate your fellowship.” That sentence triggers something inside of you, a last straw.

“Well in that case, consider my whole damn job ’terminated’!” You slam your ID badge on his desk and rush out of that office as fast as your heels can take you, ignoring Baz and June’s shouts.

Ethan’s PoV:-

You slump back into your chair, and pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Ethan, I know you’re our boss and all that but what in the world did you do that for?! That poor girl just quit her job!” You turn to Baz.

“And she won’t be the only one if this conversation continues.”, you say. They both exit the room.

“Lord, one day she’ll be the death of me!” You decide to go to the ER to help with any patients. After attending to a few casualties, you go back to your office when you see Harper standing at the entrance, arms crossed. You raise your eyebrows.

“Was that Dr. Valentine I saw rushing out of here?”

“Yes.”

“What the hell were you thinking, Ethan?! You can’t just shout at her like that.”

“Well, I can if I need to.”

“Well maybe when she deserves it. You damn very well know that what she did didn’t make you angry. You’re angry that what she says is right, and worried that Naveen’s vision will be compromised.”

You sigh. “...maybe I was a bit too hard on her.”

“A bit?”, she looks at you incredulously.

“Fine! I was hard on her, so what?! It’s not like she’s actually going to resign her job, it was a hot-headed decision.”

“Oh really? Then what’s this?” She waves a minute stack of papers. You take it from her and read it. It’s a resignation letter, signed. Your eyes widen in disbelief.

“She came to me, with a resignation letter and said that she wanted me to sign these papers. She’s very clear-headed and informed me that it isn’t a rash decision, but one that she’s been mulling over for sometime. She’s gotten an offer to transfer her residency back to New York, offering her a part in researching preeclampsia treatments.”

“She wouldn’t…”, your mind says.

“Naveen’s signed them too.”

“What?!” You scan the papers and notice your mentor’s signature at the bottom. “Damn it… I should go talk to her.”

“You should, And do it now. She’s leaving in a few hours to New York. The young doctor’s got quite a few connections.”

“Just tell me where she is!”

She shrugs. “She’s handing over all her patients to other residents so she could be anywhere. Dr. Hirata, Dr. Delarosa and both Dr. Mirani’s have tried talking her out of it but she wouldn’t budge. So did her friends and Dr. Lahela. Naveen tried his best but couldn’t either.”

“Well why didn’t you?!”, you ask.

“You really thought I didn’t? She’s quite the woman, didn’t waver a second. And you know how intimidating I can be.”

“Well, of course she is.”, your mind reminds you as you rush out of the office.

Arielle’s PoV:-

You’re walking through the halls of Edenbrook, handing out your charts to everyone just like you did when you were suspended. Except this time, it’ll be the last. You try to ignore your friends’ voices as you hand out the last of your charts. You quickly change into a white cropped top and a pair of jeans and gather all your things from the locker, slowly loading everything into your locker. You would have asked your friends, but you don’t have the heart to face them.

You quickly check everything off, ignoring the multiple pages you receive from your friends and him. You turn off your pager and take off your white coat, Edenbrook’s logo etched on it and hand it over to Zaid.

“I thought I’d never say this but, I’m going to miss you Valentine.”

“You know what Zaid? Me too, after all who else is going to annoy me in the mornings!”

“God, I’m going to miss you so much!”, Ines wraps you up in a hug. “Have you told your friends anything?”

You shake your head. “I can’t right now. I might fly back and visit in a week or two Probably with lots of presents cause they’ll all hate me.”

She gives you a knowing look. “You know that he didn’t really mean it.”

“I know. But I can’t go on like this.” She nods. You wave one last time before you head out back to your car. You put on your sunglasses as you unlock your car. You’re about to start the engine when you realise your backpack’s still in the office.

“Crap!” You know you’ll have to get it yourself. You head back in, and take the back way to the elevator. Luckily, it’s empty. You get in and press the button for the 9th floor. The elevator slowly descends up, 3rd…...4th…...5th..”-

The elevator dings, it’s doors opening to reveal…

“Dr. Valentine.” You can see the relief in his eyes, his chest lightly heaving.

“He’s been looking for you.” The realisation dawns on you as he enters the elevator.

Suddenly, the elevator jerks slightly. You lightly stumble as there’s no bar to hold for support. You spot the bar near him and decide to stay as far as possible.

Suddenly he presses the emergency button, the elevator stops in its tracks.

“What did you do that for?!” He ignores you. You ask again.

“One argument. One argument and you quit.”

“It wasn’t one argument! You literally blamed everything on me when I was trying to help!”

“So you sign these?!” He waves your resignation papers in front of you.

“You can’t expect me to keep doing this!”

“Doing what?! I never asked you to do anything!” You take a deep breath.

“I can’t do this anymore. Seeing you every day, us acting like nothing more than colleagues, maybe friends. Acting like absolutely nothing happened between us, it hurts, Ethan. It hurts every day, every hour every minute of my damn life!.”, you blurt out. His eyes soften as he hears your words.

“Arielle, I know and I’ve told”-

“Screw my job, screw your damn ethics and morals, screw everything damn it! I’m head over heels in love with you, Ethan Jonah Ramsey, and you can’t expect me to keep quiet!” His eyes widen as he realise the extent of your words. Tears start to roll down your cheeks.

“Do you know how hard it was for me, when you left? I found out from one of the nurses, for God’s sake!”

“I couldn’t bring myself to tell you”-

“And when you came back, after two whole months you address us as something that was in the past, something that already was finished. Was it all that meant to you?”

“I- you know that’s not true”-

“I just can’t do it anymore, Ethan. I don’t know what you’ve heard but I’m leaving Boston in a few hours. I only came back for my bag, nothing else.”

“Wait, we can”-

“I can’t, Ethan, I can’t. I feel like I’m a rope in a game of tug-of-war. You acting hot then cold.You being there right beside me, but not being able to kiss you...I can’t stand it.” You can see his eyes slowly tearing up.

Not being able to look at him, you turn around and press the emergency button, the elevator descends up again. He slams the button again, the elevator stops in its tracks. “Well you can’t expect me to let you leave just like that!”

“I don’t. Which is why I’ve told everyone I’m going to New York.”, you respond as you punch the button again, the lift slowly going up.

“I don’t care where you go, Arielle Cerise Valentine. I will find you, even if it means travelling to the ends of the damn earth.”, he responds as he presses the button again, the lift halts to a stop. His sentence tugs right at your heartstrings, breaking your heart even more.

“Ethan, please don’t. I’m begging you, it hurts. Let me go, you have to let me go.”

“I can’t. How could I?”

“...then I’ll do it for you.” You press the button for the last time, the elevator finally arriving at the ninth floor. You slowly take a step towards the office.

Ethan pulls you back to his arms, his lips meeting yours in a heady kiss. You don’t have the strength to pull away, but you know you have to. You break the kiss as the elevator door starts to open.

“I’m sorry…”

Ethan’s PoV:-

You don’t know what to do, your heart beating irrationally. “Arielle, wait!” She doesn’t look back. In a last attempt, you press the button to close the doors. They close as you sigh in relief. She looks at you, this time really looks at you. Her beautiful violet irises meeting yours. You press the emergency button one last time, never taking your eyes off of her.

“You can’t leave me, I know I’m being selfish but please don’t.” She takes one last look at you, then turns away.

In crushing defeat, you take your hand off the button, the doors start to open as she slowly walks to them. You try to memorise every inch of her, who knows when he’ll see her again. She’s about to step out when suddenly the elevator jerks quite violently.

She’s thrown back into the right wall as your shoulder forcefully collides with another wall. You’re about to help her when a second later, the elevator drops. You hold on to the metal bar for dear life as the elevator rapidly descends down several feet.

Remembering you’re not alone in the midst of the chaos as you hear screams, you see Arielle’s petite body hit the top of the elevator and drop down with a terrifying thud. You watch in horror, cursing as you’re not able to do anything.

“No!!!”

The elevator finally stops after what seems like an eternity. We rush towards Arielle, trying not to focus on the bright blood stains on her white top and hair.

“Arielle? Arielle?! Can you hear me?! Please, wake up damn it!”

Her eyelashes lightly flutter. You quickly take her in your arms.

“Mmm… i-it hu-hurts E-Ethan.” Your eyes well up once again as she struggles to speak, pain completely unbearable, for you mentally and for her physically.

“Shhhh….I know. Can you tell me where it hurts?” She tries to speak but winces in pain.

“Okay, I’m going to examine you slowly and I want you to blink once if it hurts.” She nods very slowly. Suddenly, you hear a tune. You realise it’s your phone.

“Just one second, Rookie. It’s probably Naveen or Harper.” You slowly prop her up against the wall and answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Oh thank god, Ethan! We were so worried. How many people are inside? Is anyone hurt?”, Harper asks.

“No, it was just me and Ari”- You’re interrupted by a soft thud. You whip around to see Arielle lying unconscious on the floor. You drop to your knees.

“Rookie!”

“Ethan?! What happened?!” You can hear Harper yelling but you ignore it, all your attention on her.

“Rookie! Arielle, wake up!!”

This time her eyes stayed shut.

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

Author’s Note:- Okay, first of all I commend you if there isn’t even a single tear rolling across your face. I know I cried while writing this which is why if you see any mistakes, ignore them cause this wasn’t even edited once. But on a bit of a more of a happier note, I’m writing/brainstorming a part 2 to this so...

Permanent taglist: @nikki-2406 | @iemcpbchoices | @xxxxxxxx04 | @sizzlingcashherohumanoid | @archveexz | @deepikakkannan | @nishas-paradise | @maurine07 | @archxxronrookie | @adrex04 | @everythingchoices | @rivenni | @annekebbphotography | @mrsethanfreakingramsey | @jamespotterthefirst | @natureblooms24 | @katkart122 | @udishaman | @hopelessromantics4life | @custaroonie | @mvalentine | @queencarb | @lisha1valecha | @ezekielbhandarivalleros | @ejrownsme @the-pale-goddess | @justanotherrookie | @miss-smrxtiee | @missmiimiie | @choicesfics | @romewritingshop | @taniasethi | @keithandlevi-ontheroof | @choicesfan10 | @open-heart-ramseyyy | @crookedkittyperson | @sistatribe | @groovypalacehorselover

Ethan x MC taglist:- @tsrookie | @starrystarrytrouble | @mysticaurathings | @caseyvalentineramsey | @alina-yol-ramsey | @openheartthot | @gryffindordaughterofathena | @binny1985 @ramseysno1rookie

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

[avengerscompound]

The Surrogate - Chapter 11

The Surrogate:  A Clintasha Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Word Count:  1868

Rating:  E

Warnings:  Pregnancy, sex talk

Synopsis: A freak end of the world incident leads to meeting your two best friends, Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff.  While your friendship with the two Avengers is anything but conventional, they are your all-time favorite people.  When you find out that Clint and Natasha want to start a family but have exhausted all their options, you realize your powerset might allow you to give them what they want.  Having your best friends’ baby might seem like a good idea on paper, but when you are as close as you, Clint, and Natasha are, will doing something so intimate mean feelings get a little mixed up?

Chapter 11

Living with Clint and Natasha was the best worst thing you’d ever done.  You loved being around them.  They were fun and hilarious and they doted on you.  While your morning sickness was kicking your ass, there was always one of them there with a cool compress, rubbing your back.  They kept saltines and ginger ale on hand.  They made sure you took your anti-nausea medication and your pregnancy vitamins.  They were even pulling in favors from friends.  Wanda had made up several batches of different soups she used to cook with her mother that you could eat with an upset stomach, and Pepper dropped off a few things that had helped with her when she was pregnant with Morgan.

As your morning sickness eased up at the end of the first trimester, you were hit by a sudden wave of energy.  They moved on to doing midnight runs to get that very weirdly specific thing you were craving and offering you foot and back rubs every time you even remotely complained.

That would all be fine - more than fine.  It was amazing and they were amazing.  Only you couldn’t pretend that you weren’t feeling the way you were feeling about them anymore.  You’d fallen head over heels for the both of them.  Not to mention that your hormones being all out of whack meant you could go from being horny as hell to in tears in sixty seconds flat. Any time you thought about how you felt about them you were just as likely to want to jump them as to hide and cry about how terrible a person you were for not being able to get those feelings in check.

“Alright,” Clint said, coming in with a stack of different boxes and containers and putting them on the counter.  “We have pizza, we have lo mein, we have fried chicken and biscuits, we have chocolate eclairs. Did I forget anything?”

“Whatchamacallit,” you said, sitting forward in the chair.

Clint fished around in the pocket of his coat and pulled out the candy bar.  “One ‘Whatchamacallit’,” he said, miming slamming it down on the table.

“Thank you, Clint.  You’re the best,” you said and grabbed the container of noodles and the chopsticks.

“You know it,” he said, getting a slice of the pizza.

Natasha came into the room with drinks and took a seat next to you.  “Your cravings have been off the charts lately.”

“Yeah, I read they don’t really know why they happen, but I just need all the sugar and salt,” you said.

 “I read it had to do with lacking dopamine,” Natasha said.

“I feel that,” Clint said, raising his hand to you.  “High five!”

You laughed and looked at his hand.  “I’m not high fiving your depression, Clint.”

“Damn it,” Clint said, putting his hand back down.  “That’s not gonna help it.”

“You feeling okay though?”  Natasha asked.  “Feeling down or … you know?”

“Honestly, yeah, I feel good,” you admitted.  “I got a huge burst of energy when I stopped getting morning sickness.  It’s like I’m running at 110%.  I really like living with you guys.  The only thing…”  You trailed off and shook your head.

“What is it?”  Clint asked.  “You need a softer mattress?  More pillows?”

You shook your head.  “No, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

Clint looked at you confused.  Like he couldn’t imagine a possible reason why you’d keep a secret from him.  It made sense. You didn’t normally keep things from him.  There were days when you told him pregnancy stuff in such detail that he asked you to stop sharing.

“You know you can tell us anything, right?”  Natasha said. “We’ll do whatever we can for you.”

“That’s the problem,” you mumbled, shoving a huge mouthful of noodles into your mouth.

“What?  Is it that we’re smothering you?”  Natasha asked, putting her hand on your leg. “You can tell us.  I know I’ve been a little overbearing, but I’m still expecting the other shoe to drop.”

“It’s not that.  You’ve been fine, I know what your head has been like.  It’s nothing… no...I guess it is… you know what...never mind…” you babbled.  You got up grabbing the box of noodles.  “I’m going to go eat on the roof.”

As you hurried out of the room you noticed Natasha and Clint give each other a look just before you closed the door.  You went straight up to the roof of the building.  The building that the Avengers lived in was set below most of the others, so the view of the compound was obscured by the large white office building. It was set right on the water, and if you sat looking out at the Huson it was just the river and forest for miles and it was almost like it was just a normal apartment block with amazing views.

You perched on the edge of the building, one hand cradling your small belly while you ate the noodles.  You’d only been up there for fifteen minutes when Clint appeared behind you.

“You forgot your ‘Whatchamacallit’,” he said, sitting beside you and putting the candy bar on the ledge between the two of you.

“Thanks, Clint,” you said.  “Sorry, I’m being weird. Nat’s not too worried is she?”

“She’s a little worried.  But she also gets you might be a little hormonal right now,” Clint said.

“Clint!”  You squawked.

He laughed and nudged you gently.  “It’s nice up here, huh?”  You nodded and he rubbed your back.  “I always feel like I see everything better when I’m up here.  You know what I mean?”  He said.  You nodded again and he lowered his hand, resting on it on the edge of the building as he swung his legs over the edge.  “The thing is sex, right?  You’re super horny?  I read that some women get like that when they’re pregnant.”

You whined and nodded.  “Yes.  It’s like half of what I think of.  Then food.  Then just everything else.”

“And we’ve had plenty of sex, so you know we’d help you out.  So I’m guessing you didn’t tell us, because you’ve caught feelings and you think the sex will just make them stronger?”  He asked.

It was annoying how much Clint picked up on.  He acted like an idiot, but he never missed a single thing.  You nodded and picked up the candy, tearing it open and biting into it, hoping that the chocolate-coated peanut wafers would distract you from the other things you were feeling.

“Are you in love with Nat?”  Clint asked.  “Cause… I get it.  And… I can share.”

You squeezed your eyes closed and shook your head.  “It’s both of you.”

Clint started laughing.  “Then what’s the problem?”

“Clint,” you said, hoping that the pain wasn’t as evident in your voice as you felt.  “I don’t just want something casual.  I’m falling in love with you both, and I’m doing this -” you gestured to your stomach “-so you guys can be parents.  It’s all complicated and you’re not going to have time to start a new thing.  And my hormones are all messed up.   The timing is off and … and…”

Clint took your hand and gently squeezed it.  “Babe,” he said, gently.  “Nat and I have been referring to you as our girlfriend since before you offered to have our baby.”

You looked up at him with your brow furrowed.  “You have?”

“Yeah, we have.  For a while we thought you felt the same way, but then you started dating and you’d stop sleeping with us,” he explained.  “We just… didn’t think you could do the polyamory thing.  You’d only ever sleep with us when you weren’t dating anyone else and when you did sleep with us it was always just when you were super desperate and you kept it very casual.  So we called you our girlfriend to each other, but like… you were our casual girlfriend.  And we knew one day we’d have to lose you.  But if you’re saying you want us?  We already consider you ours.”

“What about the baby?”  You asked.

Clint let out a breath and tapped his fingers on the back of your hand.  “I guess there’s a lot to talk about and work out there.  ‘Cause if you really want in - properly in and not just the casual side thing that you kinda already have been doing the whole time - then you’re gonna be a mommy too, not just the best aunt a kid could possibly have.”  He paused and ruffled his hand through his hair. “But the way I figure, if you do want that, it’s kinda perfect, isn’t it?  I mean, there’s three of us.  It’s got mine and Nat’s genes and you’re the one carrying it.  We’re all connected to the little peanut.”

Your heart has started hammering.  It felt like you were sitting on the precipice of something good.  But you worried that it was just an illusion and if you plunged in it would be the end of everything.

“What if it doesn’t work out?”  You asked.

Clint laughed softly.  “Oh, babe,” he said gently.  “Literally every day, multiple times a day I ask myself that.  I wake up in the morning and think, ‘what if today’s the day Nat realizes what a piece of shit I am, and I lose her’.  And I get to work and think, ‘what If today Steve realizes that an archer is a ridiculous thing to have in his superhero team’.  Nat will look at me a certain way, or get frustrated with me and I will be sure that’s it.  I ruined it.  I keep going because so far no one has worked it out I’m a fraud.  And she makes me happy.  And you make me happy too.  So if you want to try and fake it with me.  I’d really like that.”

Your heart broke for him and you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his neck.  You didn’t know if it was just that you were hormonal and a little over-emotional, but you started crying freely, your tears wetting Clint’s shirt.  He wrapped his arms about you and held you steady as you cried against him.

As you started to get control of yourself Clint rubbed your back slowly.  “Is that a ‘yes’?”  He whispered.

You nodded and he tilted your chin up to look at him.  His blue eyes looked down at you in that same soft and loving way he looked at Natasha.  Like she hung the stars in the sky just for him.  You leaned up, your lips barely parted and he bridged the difference, kissing you deeply but tenderly.

He pulled back slowly and you chased his lips, reluctant to let the kiss end because as soon as it did, everything would be different, and different didn’t always mean better.  “You wanna come downstairs and talk to Nat?  Maybe eat the rest of that food I brought you?”

You nodded.  “Yeah.  Okay.”

He got up and offered you his hand.  You stood, taking it and he led you back downstairs to the apartment he shared with Natasha.

// NEXT

[writingsbychlo]

put her together again (03)

word count; 6472

summary; after you’re making steady progress, mitch takes you on a trip to jog your memory, and you have quite the reaction to it.

notes; this is a really emotionally intense chapter, so take it easy. I cried while writing it AND while proof reading it.

wrnings; mentions of gore, murder, underage drinking, child abduction, breaking and entering, abuse, criminal activity, and child abuse.

The name revelation had been a snowball, one that had continued to roll and tumble until it had become a crushing avalanche of success and progress within your mind and personality.

You were making big and little breakthroughs within yourself, sometimes it was a sudden realisation about what your favourite colour was, and sometimes it was bigger. Sometimes memories came filtering through - good and bad - and he’d come to learn the tells of what each one consisted of. You’d taken to writing them down or drawing them, your doodle pad becoming more like a journal now, and you shared more with him. On the happier days when the memories you were able to now recognise as ‘good’ came through, memories of times on assignments when you’d soak up the sun, or a butterfly would land on your arm, you would tell him all about them, describing in in vivid detail as you relived every moment with him, and made sure to give so much detail he felt like he was sitting there himself.

Sometimes, on the days when something came to the surface that now made you shiver, it would have a different effect. Those were the quieter days, the days when he’d make you a hot cup of tea and give you a tablet for something herbal to soothe your anxiety, and would choose to sit beside you on the couch instead of working in his office, reading a book as he waited for you to be ready to talk about it. Sometimes, those days took a physical toll on you, you wouldn't eat or move, and there had been multiple times when he’d had to hold your hair back as your body was racked from head to toe as you emptied your stomach into the toilet bowl while shock and horror washed over to you.

The progress you were making was incredible, but not all the emotions you were finally tapping into were something to be celebrated, it was just something that had to be done.

The cold and emotionless version of you was something that was rapidly slipping away, and he could barely even compare you to the person you’d been when he’d first taken you in so many months ago. The way your face had been permanently stoic and lifeless was something he could barely picture now, you were never without some kind of expression, a lot of which made him laugh, or made his own chest blossom with warmth when you did. It was hard not to, watching you come into yourself, your smile was contagious, enough to light up the room when you’d knock on the office door with a wide grin and another story to tell him, or a joke you’d read in a book that you wanted or share, and the way he’d have to suppress his laughter as he watched your face change when you read.

You weren’t even aware you did it, your face flicking between joy, despair, judgement, horror, shock, with every word you read, letting yourself get immersed in the words that created a new world for you, and sometimes it was enough to distract him from his own work, simply to watch you.

In the first few weeks after you’d realised what your name was, he’d caught you mumbling it to yourself as you went around, written on the back of your hand, or on every page of your notebook as you tried to familiarise yourself with it. You did your best, and he felt like his heart had both broken and been strengthened as he found the open page of your name written, scribbled and scrawled in different handwritings, colours and types of writing tool as you tried to work out how you best associated with your own name.

You spoke it on a loop and left it written everywhere you could as you began to grow more comfortable with it, but after a month had passed, you had seemed to begin to find a connection within it. He did everything he could to help, making sure to say your name to you as much as he could, to reinforce it in your mind, and he had felt himself light up like the fourth of July the first time you’d said his name too.

You had said it so simply, a false argument that two of you had been having about a book you’d read and whether or not you agreed with the choices taken, and after you’d made a valid point, he’d used his foot to nudge the book out of your hand from where he sat at the opposite end of the couch, stretched out across it. You’d chastised him by using his name, laughing under your breath as you found the item under the coffee table and flicked through it to find the page, having not marked it before losing it at his shove.

Sometimes, you still messed up, when you were particularly tired or you’d had a nightmare, you’d slipped back into accidentally referring to yourself as unit eight in the mornings, a somber feeling following you around for hours until you snapped out of it, often with his help, when you watched a movie and had a hot drink to soothe you, or listened to the music he’d begun to introduce you to.

It was a long road, one that the pair of you were struggling with together, and every day you seemed to be gaining miles, faster and faster. What had once been like a dam - tightly locked and making sure to allow only enough in and out to hold strong and survive - was now beginning to crack. Water was dripping through, little by little as the break widened and pebbles fell away, and as each little piece fell away from the barrier it was expanding more and more, gaining ground faster with each progression. One day it would burst entirely, there would be nothing left to hold you back, because the concrete would crumble away to let everything beautiful within you that was locked up so tight be allowed to roam free, instead.

Upon coming into yourself, though, had brought several troubles for him. The first of which was your curiosity, he no longer had to guide you in finding hobbies and telling you what to do, but instead, you were all but bouncing off of the walls while locked inside, desperate to get around to your weekly walks at night when there were fewer people on the streets and less of a risk to you, and so they had become more and more frequent, the two of you venturing out almost every other night, now.

With your arm linked through his as you strolled along, wrapped up in one of his coats that was too big for you and some sweats, he was certain that the two of you had walked every possible route around the neighbour over fifty times now, and that had led him to another issue. You wanted to explore, you wanted more, the searching on the laptop did no good, because you’d seen so many aspects of the world on the job, so much more than he had even, but you’d never experienced it.

You wanted to see the world, but you weren’t ready to be a part of it yet.

You were a killer, a trained mercenary, you knew more languages than he did, and you could use a spoon to kill him in more ways than he could kill someone with a gun, you knew the entire periodic chart by heart and you could do a backflip on the spot - something which the two of you had spent upwards of a week trying to teach him how to do, and failing. He couldn't contain the overwhelming sense of pity he had for you, though, because while you were such an incredible person with limitless talents and skills, you had absolutely no idea how to do basic things like set off a dishwasher or put through a load of laundry.

On a day when he’d been trying to assess your skills, you’d taken him down ten times in a row at sparring without even breaking a sweat, but he’d found you crying in the laundry room as you tried to figure out what all the buttons and symbols meant, and so his latest hobby had been teaching you the things that mother’s taught their kids from youth.

His investigation into your past hadn't ceased either, he would work with every fragment of memory you gave him and every tiny detail he could pick up from a story you told him, never wanting to push and risk upsetting you, or having you close back in on yourself.

You were becoming a seamless part of his life, taking you to the store and watching you sniff at shampoos and laundry detergents, or debate the health benefits of certain vegetables over others was something that he was too quickly becoming used to, and wandering around the library and holding your stacks of books for you while you chose a new week’s worth of reading was beginning to become the highlight of his Saturday nights.

The domesticity of it all was overwhelming, never in his life had he held this kind of life in the palm of his hands, a happy little setting that was nothing but serenity and peace when he was home. The old him used to go to pubs and bars, Katrina in a cute little dress on his arm as he wore tight skinny jeans and spent more money on drinks at clubs and hockey games than he did on rent. Half of his existence was hangovers and headaches, from booze or college textbooks, and he was looking a long and dull but successful office career in the eye, his sporting being something he’d keep up as a hobby until work hours got longer and he got that promotion that ‘everybody wanted’ and ‘it was a real honour, everyone was fighting for it’ and so he’d spend more time behind his desk instead of at home, gain a little weight, fuck his secretary when Katrina started to make eyes at the gardener instead, because he was still young and hot.

It was someone he wasn’t, he’d never seen himself before this as being the guy who was happy to read books quietly with his girl when her feet were in his lap or toes poking at his thigh like you did on a bold day, or cook recipes from a book you’d picked up as one of this week’s editions, the two of you trialing different meals from all over the world, because you couldn’t actually go there to get them.

With the more expanding into society you’d done, the more he’d invested in you, no longer being able to wrap you up in his own clothes as much, especially not with the looks the two of you received when you were in public places, and so he was left to buy you clothes. He didn’t know much, likes sizes or measurements, but he tried his best, and so with heated cheeks and a scowl, he’d pushed some bags into your hands after returning home from a midday excursion.

Leggings, sports bras, simple cotton panties, and a fair amount of pyjamas, because those were your favourites. He went for the basics, leaving you to roam around in his hoodies and shirts, but it was an improvement, to say the least, making you look a little less like you were still a project, and more like you were finding your place in a society you didn’t understand and had never been a part of. You’d managed to dig up a packet of hair elastics he’d had from his time when he had longer hair and couldn’t be bothered to cut it, and so you’d begun to style it like you read in books or saw in movies, ponytails and braids and buns.

Slowly but surely, everything about you was becoming less robotic and more unique, and he was simply along to watch you bloom like a flower in the sun, now.

“Do you want to go out somewhere today?”

“Somewhere like the library? Because we only went a few days ago, and we still have lots of food in the fridge.” You glanced up at him as he leant on the door for the kitchen, and Mitch couldn't help the grin that took over his face as you looked at him curiously, twirling a pencil between your fingers in patterns that confused him and yet you seemingly didn’t even know you were doing it, and the wondering as to whether you could do that with something like a knife flitted across his mind, but he shook it free. “Anyway, it’s only eight minutes past two, it won’t be dark for at least five hours yet.”

“I was thinking we could switch up the routine today.” You raised your brows at him, lips pursed as your eyes flicked over to the paper stuck up on the fridge, and he pushed himself up from the framing to take the seat across from you instead. “You mind that?”

You let out a dramatic sigh, pouting a little as you placed the pencil back into the case before you and zipping it up. “I suppose for you an exception could be made.”

“Wow, don’t I just feel honoured?” He grinned, watching as you giggled a little bit, before pushing your chair out, excitement taking over as you came to stand beside him, rolling on the balls of your feet a little bit. 

“We’re going out now? During the day?”

“Yes we are.”

What was almost a squeal left your lips as you nodded your head, hands clenching and unclenching from fists as your gaze faded away from his. “I’m gonna’ wear the black jeans!”

You were gone from his view before he could say anything else, dashing away towards your room and clicking the door shut as you left in a whirlwind of coloured pencils and fluffy socks that you’d dug out of his drawer, and he scooped up all the papers to tidy them away, placing the glass you’d been drinking from into the sink and getting rid of them.

He had been researching, using every bit of information that he’d heard from you to build a case, trying to find out who you were to try and help you expand on the life you’d lost, everything that you’d forgotten or been forced to suppress. How many girls at about age three could go missing with your name, from a state he was certain he’d hear you mumble in your sleep, from a house that matched all the pictures you drew?

Three-hundred and twenty-two. That’s how many. 

But only eighteen of them had been cases that were still open or never solved, and only one of them had the mysterious circumstances that would match you, and was exactly what he was looking for. He was confident in the decision, in his own sleuthing, and so the decision he had been pulling over for the past few days on whether or not it was actually a good decision, had taken over this morning. It was like a band-aid, it just had to be ripped off, but it was a lead on who you were supposed to be, not who they forced you to be, so he was willing to take it.

Luckily for him, and you, by some kind of blessing, it wasn’t actually that far away, only one state over, a few hours driving at the max, and so like some kind of emotional therapy or purge, you’d be able to go to the place you once lived, and find a piece of yourself. If his detective work had been accurate, that was.

It hadn't taken you long to change. You were flying out of the room excitedly while pulling up your hair to secure it back as your laces were still undone, waiting eagerly as he put on his own shoes and jacket, taking a little longer to pat down his pockets and find his keys just to tease you, as you hovered in the doorway, anticipating the journey out into broad daylight that you’d be venturing into. Everything seemed different to you in the daylight, he could tell, from the was you took anxious steps, buzzing slightly as the two of you chose to take the stairs instead, avoiding the security camera and the busy people shifting from different floors in the elevator, still trying to keep you as safe and secreted as possible. 

He’d parked the car close to the building on the last journey, and so it was barely a walk to get to it, blacked out windows hiding your identity much better now that you were venturing out into the light. He had already programmed the location into the SatNav in his car, only a few hours away to be taken to, and you settled into the seat, reading the back of the latest CD he had, and mumbling about getting a burger on the way there if it was far away, before the journey was beginning, and Mitch was doing his best to push down his anxiety.

The house was still just as it had been left, a little unkempt and the garden overgrown, the cobblestones leading up to the front door had become unstable with some missing and some just out of place. The weeds had taken over, mud and grass with thistles that had overruled it all, everything trampled down by kids who had wandered over the area. One of the windows had broken and there was graffiti along the walls, the front door kicked in and there were marks around the frame where repairs had been made, new locks and wood being put on, but it had only continued to happen. 

It had never been repurchased, it was a little town that the two of you had pulled up in, and you’d gone silent from all the chattering you’d done on the way over as you stared up at the building, unaware of the neighbours eyes peering on at the two of you as you sat in the large sleek vehicle. Rumours had spread quickly, he’d barely had to dig into your history before articles and news about your family were popping up, rumours about the things your parents had been involved in before tragedy had struck and the littlest member of the family had gone missing, a cold case that was never solved. 

Beer cans and burnt ashes were in the garden, but there was no movement inside currently, and so releasing the lip from between his teeth from where he’d been nibbling, Mitch rounded the car, opening the door for you and giving you the most reassuring smile he could as your gaze left the house to find his, and you stepped out of the car to stand beside him. You didn’t question him, or yell at him, but you lingered by his side, your shoulder brushing his for comfort as you shoved your hands into the front pocket of your hoodie, and followed him up the pathway when he took the first step. 

You paused by his side halfway up the garden, looking around anxiously, and that same blank look that he hadn't seen for months was back, and suddenly, the weight of the moment came crashing down onto him as he realised the weight of the mistake he must’ve made. The panic that he’d triggered something bad within you was crushing, that you might close back in on yourself and freak out, that this act may have been your entire undoing. 

Then, he was able to process the look on your face. It was recognition. You knew where you were, you knew what it was you were looking at. The blank look wasn’t you closing in on yourself, it was you protecting yourself, and he closed the distance between you both with a few quick strides, tipping your chin up towards him before placing a comforting hand on your shoulder and squeezing, fixing you with a look of questioning and security as he waited to know whatever you were okay. 

“I think I used to have a pink bicycle.” You looked over his shoulder, glancing along the broken pathway as you traced your gaze across the garden. “It had training wheels that lit up in all different colours.”

He could see it now, the fear in your eyes, and it was an emotion he'd never seen on you before. You were scared, but the cogs were turning in your head as the final part of you clicked into place, finding your roots and being reunited with your home, a shaky breath leaving you, before your eyes were searching to catch his own once again, and you gave him a weak smile, but he was sure it was the strongest you’d been able to muster. 

“Can we go inside?”

“Are you sure you can handle that?” 

You hesitated in giving him your answer, but there was determination washing over the fear, and you nodded, pursed lips and slightly trembling shoulders, but he could tell you were absolutely adamant in your decision. You were moving before he was, taking quick and steady steps up the front porch, and lingering by the front door, waiting for him to catch up, peering through the glass and past the ripped and yellowing fabric, that was covering the slip of glass, only an outline of the interior revealed to you. 

A simple nudge of his foot was enough for the door to swing open, the wood creaking under the strain on its hinges as it wobbled a little, scraping the wood flooring in motions that were clearly ingrained from a lot of breaking and entering. He lingered back, letting you take the first step, and it was like walking into a piece of your history, he didn’t want to invade, so he gave you your time to observe the place. 

It was a little torn up, massacred from the graffiti and break-ins, smashed glass and covered with damp and mold, peeling wallpaper that had yellowed and snapped or broken furniture. There were burns on the walls and floors from where kids had come in to smoke and set fires, broken bottles and crushed beer cans, litter and lost belongings, but it was still the place that used to be your home. 

The first room was the living room, couches that were torn, flat cushions with rusted springs and missing stuffing, but the faded pattern was almost still visible. There was a clear place where a television had once been, almost everything of value having been stripped from the room, and other furniture rearranged to make places for youths to sit around and talk, but it was enough for you to be able to put the jigsaw puzzle pieces together. You wandered around, running your fingers lightly over everything, and moving onto the dining room. You’d dragged the chairs back through, arranging them around the chipping and wobbly oakwood table, and adjusting the photo frames on the walls, even though the glass had shattered. 

The kitchen was a mess, broken cupboard doors and a leaky tap, the backdoor completely kicked in and the panels on the back porch broken, but you didn’t seem to care, a small smile flickering on your face as you crouched down, peering into the oven, despite the fact that you couldn't see through the glass of the door. “I think my mother used to bake cookies.”

“Yeah?”

You glanced at him, hands on your knees to push yourself up from your crouching position as you nodded your head. “Yeah. I just got the overwhelming urge to eat cookies when I walked in here.”

“Well, it won’t be the same, but when we go home, we’ll swing by the store and try and whip some up, if you’d like?” Your shoulder bumped against his as you walked through the room, before looking back, offering him a soft nod, and making your way across to the staircase, leaving him to follow you. 

“I would like that.” 

His offer was seemingly well accepted, and he was happy to have made a suggestion that was something positive for you. The stairs groaned and squealed under each step he took, and for a second the worry that the wood may actually give way underneath you both passed his mind as he felt each plank tremble under your weight, the disarray of the house entirely different to the upstairs.

The upper half of the house was more well-kept than the lower half. Less graffiti and broken furniture, it seemed far more well preserved, and Mitch would be willing to bet good money that kids just weren’t bold enough to try and climb stairs that screamed out in fits of protest at the first simple steps to be placed upon them. It brought a different mood, too. The downstairs was cheery for you, filled with sweet memories and happy times, thanksgivings at the dining table and christmas’ by the fireplace in the living room, but the upstairs was different. The first real room that you’d come across was that of the younger version of yourself, pink walls, pink furniture, everything must’ve once been bright and covered in glitter, and it seemed perfectly reasonable for a three-year-old girl’s room. 

Children’s toys still covered the floor, a tiny bed with a little desk, colouring crayons and old teddies that had become weathered and ugly, slightly torn apart but not entirely disheveled, and Mitch held his breath once again as he waited for your own reaction. There was no smile, or look of fond memories, only that of sadness and shock, his body reaching for you as you jumped and twitched with every eerie squeak of the flooring under your feet or the wind rustling through the open windows of the upstairs. 

It was dark, and unsettling, watching a grown woman relearn the room she’d been ripped from as a child, and something in the back of his throat burned at the thought as he wondered whether this was the last room you’d been in while holding your freedom, before being snatched up and cast into a life of horror and abuse. He watched as you moved around, kneeling down on the floor with an open plastic tub, picking up the toys on the carpet and tidying them away, before putting the glittery crate back where it belonged, the scratched off paint on the side revealing a part of a butterfly with purple wings and blue spots, and he had to look away from it all for a second.

He wanted to ask if you knew that you were tidying, or whether something instinctual had kicked in and taken over when you did so, but he didn’t have the heart to break what you were doing. Once you were satisfied with the straightened sheets and lines of rotten bears and plush toys along the pillow, you were kneeling down, brushing your fingers along the planks of a colourful wooden box, faded paints that had once been a rainbow, and your fingers lingered on the latch, but you didn't open it. For the first time, your lips flicked up at the corners, and you placed your hand flat on the wood, pushing it back into place but continuing to stare at it.

“Bumblebee dress.”

He cursed under his breath, listening to you mumble to yourself about your favourite costumes that lay inside, and he turned away to wipe at a droplet that had strayed from his eyes, blinking back tears on burning eyes as he tried to control himself. You were more composed than he was, but he couldn't help it. In the few months he’d known you, he had grown to care so much, you barely even knew yourself but he felt like he knew you inside and out, and he didn’t want any unhappiness for you. You were like the sun to him, warm and welcoming and loving, every day you became more and more like a star to brighten up the sky, but this was a significant dull moment in your history.

If he hadn't thought it could get any worse, he was severely mistaken. 

At least your childhood bedroom was preserved in its purity, you hadn't been harmed and perhaps you’d put up a struggle - the best struggle a toddler could - but that was not the same story in your parents room, and he felt himself stiffen up beside you at the same time your entire body had turned to one of stone.

It was a mess, the walls were spattered with blood in different angles and torn up yellow tape reading ‘crime scene’ was still hanging from some places on the walls, with white tape on the floors marking stained carpet. There was more of a visible fight put up in here, gunpowder shadows on the walls and furniture that was tipped over. The drywall was littered with dents and holes, and splintered wood still covered the floor. It was haunting, nothing seemed to be disturbed, and he wasn’t surprised, because even small town kids who broke into ‘haunted houses’ for fun had enough respect not to disturb the place a person took their final breath.

“My mother must’ve died here.”

Your voice made his head snap over to you, and he hadn't even noticed that you’d taken a few steps away from him, staring down at the dark mark on the carpet, taped off to avoid it having any disturbance from the people who would have been wandering around while it was still a fresh crime scene and open investigation. He barely had time to process your words, swallowing down the lump in his throat that felt like cotton as everything in his mouth felt dry, watching as you moved away, your shaking voice extending on again;

“This was my father’s side of the bed. I think he died here.”

Everything about being here with you was making the absence of his own parents feel like a raw and fresh wound, his eyes lining with tears once again as all of that pain came rushing back to the surface in his weakened state, and he wondered how you were still holding yourself together so well as you stared down at a bloodstained bed, the covers still pushed back as though he’d simply gotten up for a second to nip downstairs or to the bathroom, before coming back to bed. 

Just as he was thinking about it, your jaw dropped, head snapping up so that your sights could catch his own as your calm demeanour was washed away to be replaced with a horrified look, startled and tensing up as you came to some kind of revelation. “I’ve killed people. I’ve killed people who could have been other little girls’ parents.”

He knew where this was going, a familiar rabbit hole that he’d worked hard to pull himself out of before, his mind feeling slow despite how hard he tried to think about what to say as he watched the pain take over, and he could barely get his feet to move, feeling like he was trying to run through wet cement with every movement. 

“I’m a monster. Just like the ones who killed my parents.”

He couldn't take it, shaking his head as he finally managed to click into place, pushing away his boundaries as you stared at him with tears streaming silently down your cheeks. His hands found your shoulders, smoothing down until he could hold your waist, before pulling your body into his own. It was the most affectionate touch he’d ever given you, and he wasn’t sure if it was welcome, all he knew was that you needed it right now, and so he had no hesitations in tugging you in closer to him, arms wrapped entirely around your body, and your face was pressed into his shoulder, salty tears washing over his skin as you sobbed silently into the crook of his neck.

“I don’t think you’re a monster, it was beyond your control.” He lifted a hand, feeling you shake underneath him, and weaving his fingers into your hair. He detangled the strands delicately, running his fingers through the locks and scratching at your scalp lightly as you remained wrapped up in his arms, his own eyes sliding shut as he rested his cheek against the top of your head. “I think you’re lovely. You’re incredible, sweetheart; you are.”

Your arms came up to hold him back as he spoke, mumbling into your hair to reassure you. Your hands bunched up in his shirt as your legs went weak, a loud cry in distress leaving you as you held onto him, and his knees buckled a little, before he was leaning down. Scooping you up and into his arms carefully, Mitch made the decision for you that this little excursion was over, you didn’t need anything else, you’d had everything from this house that you could possibly get. With tentative footsteps he carried you through the halls and back outside, freeing up one hand to open the car as your trembling body clung to him, seeking comfort and affection to soothe your broken soul. 

Placing you down in the car seat, the whimper you let out when he pulled away was enough to break his heart, but you soon realised your location, fingers unwrapping from his jumper enough to let him round the car, and find his own seat. The drive home was silent, the radio playing softly as you tried to calm yourself down, his hand in yours at every time he could as he smoothed his thumb over your knuckles to ease your pain, and you had snoozed off for almost an hour towards the end, letting him gently wake you as you arrived back at his apartment building. 

Your hand remained locked in his own as you wandered slowly up the stairs, pushing the door open as he twisted the keys, and he didn’t miss the relieved breath you let out as you stepped back into the place you were now calling home. There were no blood splatters and trauma, no bad memories that you’d have to hide from, just the warmth he’d tried to surround you with, and you shook his hand off of your own in order to take off your shoes, before you were collapsing down onto the couch, pulling a cushion to your chest and resting your chin atop it as you pulled up your legs, creating a ball out of yourself as you tried to work through fragmented thoughts.

Wandering to the office, the box that was hidden on the very top of filing cabinet was layered with dust that he brushed off, the label reading clear to him ‘another life’ scrawled in shaky handwriting that he’d completed while swiping thing sinto a box at three in the morning as a desperate bid to clear himself of the lost life. 

He braved it, though, and brought it back through to you, your head twisting to look at him as he carried it out and took a seat beside you, placing it down on the coffee table before you both and taking a deep breath. 

“I want to show you something.”

You didn’t move, just nodded, and he lifted off the top, a musty smell coming out as a pain burned in the back of his throat once again. The first items up before you both were his medals and certificates, sporting achievements that he showed you and explained each one to you, accolades from both college and highschool, things that had made him who  he used to be. Next up was a photo album, and he was shaking a little as he held it out to you, flicking through the pages and pointing out family memoirs to you, water splashing on the plastic when his parents stopped showing up. 

You had moved across the cushions a little closer to him, your arm pressing to his as you looked on with interest, and his heart felt like it was rebreaking when the pictures of a fresh-faced college kid with a beautiful blonde on his arm came into view, and the pain and longing for the simple life of who he used to be was enough to make him feel as though he couldn't breathe.  

“When Katrina died, I was so overcome with rage and jealousy. I hurt a lot of people, and I was ready to just slaughter hundreds until I got my revenge, before the CIA found me. I’m a monster, too.”

He let out a weak sound, trying to clear his throat to cover it as he left the book discarded on the table, and you shook your head, letting out a disapproving noise that prompted him to look up at you. “You’re not a monster. “You saved me.”

Your arms circled around him, holding him just as tightly, mumbling the same words into his hair that he’d used to try and placate you only hours prior, to calm you own when you’d bene in his position only a few hours ago, a cracked and watery laugh leaving him when you squeezed him in tightly, letting him rest his face in your neck as he held onto you just as tightly in return. You had made a breakthrough of earthshaking sizes today, and while it make him sad, to know that he had nothing else to offer you, that he'd made you into someone who could go out into the world as a real person now, and that he'd have to report your progress to his superiors, he didn’t have to do it tonight. 

He was more than willing to be selfish for the rest of the evening, shifting you to pull you to sit across him as your fingers weaved through his hair, holding one another in silence as the weight of the day threatened to crush you if you didn’t bear it together. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Yeah.” His breath washed over your skin and back into his face, warm and suffocating, but he liked having someone to hold so close again, to have even a snippet of emotional comfort once again, and not having to carry everything on his own, for the first time in a long, long time. “You choose us a film, and I’ll order us a whole bunch of takeout.”

[edenbrookcelestial]

cold as you || [ethan ramsey x mc]

summary: love doesn’t always burn. sometimes, it freezes.

warnings: angst, harsh ethan.

author’s notes: song title from taylor swift’s cold as you, story inspired by it.

word count: 2327

you have a way of coming easily to me and when you take, you take the very best of me so i start a fight 'cause i need to feel something and you do what you want 'cause i’m not what you wanted

“ ethan, please. ”

ethan touched a hand to his forehead, as though to soothe an ache building there. “ avalon. i don’t know what you want from me. ”

avalon stared for a moment, incredulous. “ what i want? ethan, i want something. anything. any sign that you’re willing to commit to this, to us, to me. ”

the man closed his eyes and turned toward the window of his office, gazing out at the city buzzing below. “ does everything have to be such a drama with you? ” he mused aloud, driving yet another knife deeper into the younger doctor’s heart.

she gritted her teeth and blinked away the tears threatening to spill; no, she would not give him the satisfaction. “ one moment you say you want to be with me. the next, you’re telling me you can’t see a future.”

“ that’s not what i said, ” ethan murmured, a heavy sigh accompanying the words. ‘’ i said no one can know what the future holds.”

“ so you make a choice, ” she countered, voice like thunder. “ you choose to commit to a person, despite the fact that you don’t know what’s coming. ”

ethan’s mind wandered to the stack of paperwork currently cluttering up his desk. he moved to sit behind it and selected a pen, never once glancing up at avalon. “ i don’t have time for this.”

avalon watched as he began to fill in forms, the top of his fancy fountain pen tapping against his lower lip. she let out a humourless chuckle and clenched her fists, moving her gaze to her feet. “ no. you never do.”

ethan didn’t look up until after the door had swished open and shut, until avalon was long gone down the hallway.

oh, what a shame, what a rainy ending given to a perfect day just walk away, no use defending words that you will never say and now that i’m sitting here thinking it through i’ve never been anywhere cold as you

the streets were slick with rain. thick clouds sagged and poured water down across the city, avalon’s thin grey hoodie a poor deterrent to the weather. by the time she’d made it three blocks away from the hospital, she was soaked to the bone. at least the rain covered her tears. how could she possibly have ended up here? aching for a man who shut her out more often than he ever let her in? she thought back to her first interaction with ethan; how cold and stand-offish he’d been. as she reflected on all the months that had passed since, she realised, that coldness had never quite thawed. his edges were still sharp enough to cut if one were to get too close. and every time she believed there’d been a breakthrough, she’d blink and find herself left outside in the rain all over again.

you put up walls and paint them all a shade of gray and i stood there loving you and wished them all away and you come away with a great little story of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you

they say that insanity is doing the same thing again and again and expecting different results. avalon had been fighting ethan’s defences since the moment they first met. over a year later and not a dent was to be found. at work, she threw herself into case after case, diagnosing the impossible, gaining respect and admiration from every coworker by her side. as great as it felt to be on top of her game professionally, nothing could help the drop she experienced once she clocked out. her friends dragged her to donahughes nightly, buying beers and betting on games of pool. she tried her best to enjoy herself, to show her friends that she appreciated their efforts. one night, a couple of weeks after their arguement in his office, avalon spotted ethan at the bar. he was out with several of the more senior doctors, harper emory, baz mirani, june hirata, even naveen. they hadn’t spoken much in a personal capacity in days. aurora, elijah, jackie, sienna, and bryce were all too aware of what was distracting the blonde junior doctor.

excusing herself to head to the bathroom, avalon kept her head down as she moved through the crowd. unfortunately, she’d have to pass ethan’s table to get to her destination, and she prayed fiercely to slip by unnoticed. however, once she was a mere few feet away, her name was spoken by harper, causing her to stall.

“ summers is doing very well, wouldn’t you say? ”

june shrugged, a glass of wine in her hand. “ she’s capable of the job. ’

baz rolled his eyes at his co-worker. “ she’s fantastic. she sees things the rest of us can’t, she’s diagnosed more patients this month than we have in a long time. you made a good call, boss. ” he nodded to naveen, who smiled serenely. his gaze flitted to ethan, his face carefully neutral.

“ and you, ethan? what do you think? ”

avalon held her breath, she shouldn’t really be listening in, but then again... they were discussing her. she strained to hear ethan’s words over the buzz of the crowd and the music playing from the jukebox across the way.

“ she’s capable. she works hard. ”

well, there were worse things he could have said.

june smirked over the rim of her glass. red wine swirling like blood. ‘’ that all you have to say about your favourite resident? ‘’ she bared her teeth in a wicked smile. “ we all know she follows you around like a lost little puppy dog. ” ethan smiled too, slightly strained.

“ ah, june. you know what residents are like. they get an idea in their head, they run with it. nothing more than idle gossip, and i would have thought you to be above listening to that. ”

avalon felt her heart shatter in all the places it once glowed under ethan’s remarks. without a word, she turned from the table and pushed through the crowd again, this time aiming for the door. her friends hadn’t noticed, still believing avalon to be in the bathroom. she was thankful for this, the tears pouring down her face making her distress obvious. but she didn’t want to talk about it. she was done talking about it, about him. she was just done.

you never did give a damn thing, honey, but i cried, cried for you and i know you wouldn't have told nobody if i died, died for you, died for you

how cliché was it possible for one person to get? not only had avalon fallen for her boss, now here she was, tissue box by her knees, sniffling through heartbroken tears. a half-eaten bar of chocolate in one hand, her phone in the other. in her earphones, my chemical romance soothed her ache. the muffled sounds of knocking at her bedroom door lifted her attention. she flung a pillow in that direction, which landed just short of the doorframe with a pathetic thwump. she rolled onto her side, taking another bite of her chocolate. like everything in her life these days, it was dark and bittersweet, and when she opened her mouth to yawn she tasted salt on her lips. she clenched her fists, crumpling the wrapper with a crinkle. when the night grew into early morning, she ventured from her room to wash her face and grab a drink. elijah was by the fridge when she got to the kitchen, his expression in the dim room one of concern. “ hey, av,” he greeted softly, wheeling over to the kitchen counter. “ hey, eli. ” she cleared her throat, hoarse from lack of use. “ early shift today? ” he shook his head. “ just couldn’t sleep. ” she nodded, understanding the feeling.

“ i know things haven’t been easy for you, lately, av… ” the breath hitched in her throat. he reached for her hand, warm and soft. “ i just want you to know, you deserve better. ” his voice was so earnest, his words so genuine. she meet his gaze, red-rimmed emerald on soft, caring brown. “ you deserve so much more than this. you deserve so much better. ” avalon blinked, more tears slipping down her face. elijah’s heart ached, at the sight of his friend so distraught. he loved her deeply, she was like a sister to him. and to see her broken-down and aching because of a guy? it killed him.

he squeezed her hand, tight, and she sat heavily on one of their wooden stools. her head found a resting spot on elijah’s shoulder. she sobbed, and he brought his arms around her, holding her to his chest “ i’m sorry, eli, i’m sorry. ” he hushed her gently. murmuring to her as he rubbed her shoulders in soothing circles.

“ you have nothing to be sorry for. it’s not your fault. ”

they sat like that for more than hour, until the barest hint of sunshine streamed in through a chink in the blinds.

oh, what a shame, what a rainy ending given to a perfect day every smile you fake is so condescending counting all the scars you made

“ doctor summers? ”

her stomach twisted in on itself. ethan’s voice was nothing but professional, yet her nerves sprang to the edge when she heard it. leaving a patient’s chart by the nurse’s station, she turned to meet his icy blue gaze. “ a word? ” he asked, as casual as you like. avalon nodded and followed him silently to his office. the automatic doors slid shut with a gentle hiss.

he turned to face her, expression unreadable. “ i just wanted to check in. ” she replayed the words in her head, remaining silent as she processed. “ avalon? ”

she moved her eyes over his face. looking for some hint of what he wanted, what he really meant. he stepped closer and tilted his head, a tinge of worry seeping onto his face. “ it’s been a while since we spoke, ” he said, reaching to brush her wrist with his fingertips. she jolted at the gentle touch, and he stilled, his eyes meeting hers.

“ we don’t need to talk. ”

avalon’s voice was stronger than she had expected it to be. ethan was taken by surprise at her words, raising an eyebrow. “ i’m sorry? ”

she shook her head, a solemn expression on her face. “ no, you’re not, ” she whispered, and straightened her shoulders, meeting his gaze straight on. “ we don’t need to talk outside of work. okay? we talk about patients, and treatment, and strategy. other than that… i have nothing else to say to you. ”

ethan’s blue eyes widened, his lips opening in a silent oh. he seemed frozen to the spot, unable to move or speak.

“ we - there is no we. ” avalon decided. “ we are colleages. we work together. we don’t see each other outside of it. we don’t… i deserve better, ” she said, defiantly. “ the way you have treated me… i don’t deserve it. ” to her own surprise, she didn’t feel like crying. no, she felt better and better as she went on, finally standing up for herself. “ and i get it, you have issues, you have baggage, well, newsflash. we all do. and i should have walked away, before now, i should have. but i didn’t. and i - i’m sorry, ethan. i’m sorry that you would rather be alone than be loved. than let yourself love. i’m not a freakin’ rehab clinic. it’s not my job to fix you. it’s my job to fix our patients. ” she paused a moment, gauging ethan’s reaction. just shock, it seemed.

she sighed, sad and deep, and slightly relieved. “ i can’t do this anymore. so you need to stop. you don’t get to decide that you want me one minute, and then don’t want me the next. if you can’t respect someone else, regardless of your own trust issues, you really shouldn’t be in a relationship. ” she swallowed, hard, and felt the tension in the room swell as she finished her monologue. she didn’t exactly regret it, but did she wish she had picked a better place? yeah, maybe. but it wasn’t like she had even planned on saying any of it. it was just all too much. the weeks of crying herself to sleep, of watching ethan ignore her. elijah’s words of encouragement had echoed deep in her heart and her mind. and avalon finally knew that she respected herself too much to stay as ethan ramsey’s emotional punching bag.

ethan finally nodded, slowly. “ i hear you. i understand. ” his voice is monotone, lacking any trace of emotion. nothing really new there. avalon regarded him with caution. “ i mean it, ” she said, slowly, emphasising the words. ethan broke his gaze away, looking toward his desk. he nodded stiffly, and stuck his hands in the pockets of his lab coat. avalon backed up until she heard the hiss of the door. with one foot in the hallway, ethan spoke again, softer, the slightest note of regret in it. “ you’re right, you know. you do deserve better. ”

when she looks back over her shoulder, he’s resting his hands on his desk. his head turned to the side, watching her leave. blue eyes warm, but wet. her throat tightened and for a moment, her resolve faltered. there was a moment of heartwrenching vulnerability, just about visible.

it was too late. avalon put her hand on the doorframe, leaning against it. “ you deserve better, too, ethan. ” ethan watched her walk away, each receding footstep another crack to his heart. he closed his eyes and tried to even out his breathing. it was over. he lost her.

she was gone.

and now that i’m sitting here thinking it through i’ve never been anywhere cold as you