#thankfully the place that did his procedure said we can bring it to them after these next 10 days and they'll take care of it

[wrenhavenriver]

hi!! i was wondering how bunnycat is doing? :D

i think he's glad to be home! unfortunately his saliva/sweat/etc is still radioactive enough that we can't really cuddle him or let him free roam around the house for another 10ish days 😭 but we got him a bigass catio style enclosure with lots of perches and room for all his necessities/toys and set it up inside by the glass patio doors so he can watch birds all day and eek indignantly at us every time we walk in the room 🙃

[3pirouette]

Sneak peek of an Untitled and Unfinished Mando x Reader slow burn fic

So, this is it. I have been teasing this now for a while, it’s still SOOO unfinished, unbeta’d and may change. And I’m even afraid of tagging it properly… but this is a touch draft of the Prologues and the first chapter.

Everything is under the read more. There’s no y/n, just 1st person. I’ve never written ANYTHING like this before and am super intimidated to toss my hat into the SW fandom, but here we are.

Important things:

-ANY and ALL feedback is welcome, just be kind please.

-PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNING. I’m not joking. It’s heavy stuff.

Author:Triple Pirouette/3Pirouette

Din Darin X Reader

A/N: Let’s start with this. I love The Mandalorian. I am a casual Star Wars fan as in I love the movies and some of the shows, but I haven’t touched the books or the extended mythos and there’s SO MUCH I just don’t know that I can never catch up on. I probably should not be writing this, but I am anyway. Assume if I don’t write about it, it doesn’t apply. Full on AU in that way.

I also see Din quite differently than it seems a lot of spicy fic writers do. Welcome to the slowest burn I’ve ever written. 

General timeline is after Book of Boba Fett, with the only major difference being Din still has the Razor Crest. Let’s be honest, the N1 is lovely, but it’s lacking space. Did I start writing this before season 3? Yes. Was I heavily influenced by season 3? Also yes. Is no one going to believe that I had the end planned out BEFORE I saw the season finale. Also yes. Oh well.

Also, I almost never write in second person. This is an exercise in that. I’ve done my best with this format as I just generally don’t write it that much. (Or ever) I’ve also thrown a few third person sections in there just for the sake of story telling. I get that “reader” should be pretty vague so that you can feel like you’re in the story, but my character isn’t. “Reader” is  cis AFAB. She’s strong but a little broken, and some pretty horrific things have happened to her. PLEASE take my warnings seriously. If you decide to proceed, you are doing so warned. 

Again, this is my first Star Wars fic. My first long second person fic. Please be kind. Heed the warnings. 

As we said waaaay back when i first started writing fic, I’m open to constructive criticism, but please take your flames someplace else. If you don’t like it, just close out of it. 

Warnings: SA, violence against women, prostitution, nightmares, suicidal thoughts, medical procedures, murder

~*~

Prologue II:  A Different Kind of Bounty

Din tosses his credits across the bar, sliding the drink into his hand. Even through his helmet he can smell too much alcohol in it. Not that he drinks often, but when he does, he likes his drinks to be well balanced and worth the loss of faculties and control. 

He generally doesn’t like not being ready or losing control. 

But he’s thankfully not paying for the drink tonight to drink it. He’s paying for his space. A club, a cantina like this on the farthest reaches of the Outer Rim isn’t about making merry. You pay credits for overpriced drinks for the bartender to look away and for the honor of having no one remember you. 

He knows he stands out in this room, but so do a lot of other patrons. 

He identifies senators, princes, high ranking Republic officials, all doing business of one kind or another that would get them blackballed from other places. Here, an overpriced drink pays for the companion next to them, or for the privacy to do business that is to be left off the books in a dark corner. 

He isn’t new to these sorts of places, but this one has an interesting feature. 

He’d been expecting to find the sweet face from the Holo in his belt behind the bar or trolling the floor. It isn’t his job to ask why you are in what amounted to not much more than a Hutt-run Brothel, it is just his job to find you and bring you back to Skywalker. 

He wants to stay on Skywalker’s good side in case he ever needs the Jedi again, and Grogu’s leaving seems to be a sore spot for the man. 

Din knows he is happier with the little guy back to making mischief in the ship, and he doesn’t question that too much. 

But that’s why he is here: do a favor for Skywalker. It is a rescue mission instead of a Bounty. Seems easy enough. 

Until he sees you for the first time. 

The Dias the Hutt keeps is high and far, looking down on the dark bar from the floor above. It is made so that the full room can see the Hutt on his throne, presiding over the evening lackadaisically, but also so there are private areas towards the back where deals can be made with the Hutt’s Domos. 

And there you are, dressed in bright swathes of thin fabric and gleaming steal accents that show more than they hide, iridescent lines adorning your face to make your eyes bigger and your nose smaller, your lips fuller and your chin sharper, kneeling at the Hutt’s side, miserable. 

He sees it, even though he knows you’re trying so hard to hide it. 

He sees how little you want to be where you are every time he catches you watching him. 

And there’s something about the way you walk that Din doesn’t like. 

It looks like it hurts. 

He watches the Hutt and his Domo parade you around, watches as you greet customers who come to bargain with the Hutt. Some leave with you, some leave without you, and when you leave you never come back out for the night, at least not that he’s seen in the last three days.  

Din can’t quite understand what is going on, but you aren’t a regular prostitute. That much is clear. 

The Hutt is keeping you up there for a reason instead of out on the floor with the rest of them. Din needs to know more before he can get to you, before he can figure out a way of getting you out of here without causing too much of a scene. 

And Skywalker is going to owe him a lot more credits for all the drinks he’s going to need to buy.

~*~

Prologue I: He Stands Out

He stands out. 

His armor is bright in the dim cantina, reflecting what light there is out all around him. This is a place people come to hide, a place they come to let their guard down. He did neither. 

Night after night, for a week, you watched him. 

He would sit quietly at the bar, holding a drink but never taking his helmet off or sneaking a straw under the edge. He may have talked to people, you didn’t know. The noise of the cantina made it hard to know without lip reading, and you couldn’t see his lips. 

You couldn’t see anything but that armor. 

From your place at the Hutt’s side, you watched. You waited. He’d make his way to the Dias eventually. They all did. 

Something made you think you might try just one more time. That if he came and asked for you, that maybe, just maybe, he might be the one to listen. He might not lie to you. 

He might actually help you. 

Night after night, for a week, you watched him come in, sit, not drink, and leave. 

He stood out. 

~*~

Chapter 1:

Chapter Summary:

A/N:

The Hutt pushed you over with his tail, mumbling and grumbling in words you never tried to learn, never cared to pick up. The Senator in front of you smirked dangerously, and that was all you needed to know. He was another, paying for your time. Buying your evening from the Hutt. 

You were eyeing him, trying to guess where he was from by his dress when the glint from across the room caught your eye. He was back. The mysterious Mandalorian returned. It was the eighth night in a row now, and he had yet to actually do anything. He didn’t play games of chance, or drink, or talk with anyone of importance. He simply came in, gave his credits over to the droid at the bar, and watched. 

Hell, he could have been sleeping under that helmet and you’d never know. 

The senator pulled your attention with a cruel laugh before reaching out, taking your wrist in his hand. 

“Shall we, lovely?” 

His smile was kind, but the glint in his eye was feral. 

A different man on the outside, but on the inside he was just the same as every one who came before him. 

You’d struggled once upon a time. You’d fought and dug your heels in over and over again, years ago. Now, you just went slowly, dipping your head. You’d learned there were fates worse than death, and until you could get your hands on a blaster or a vibroblade, you didn’t even have death as a recourse. 

It would have to be quick. Easy. You didn’t have the strength left to work at taking your own life. 

He pulled you behind him, towards the door where the ____ stood guard. As you turned, you could see the Mandalorian’s head turned towards you. 

Maybe he’d be interested.

Maybe tomorrow he’d talk to the Hutt. 

Maybe you’d ask him to take you with him when he left, and maybe he’d say yes. 

Maybe, if he wouldn’t help you, he’d stop paying attention long enough for you to get your hands on his blaster.

~*~

You needed the Bacta tank, but the Hutt wouldn’t allow it. 

He’d made that mistake once, and you knew he’d never make it again. Instead he let you suffer, wallowing on the floor of your cell, fighting to maintain concentration, fighting to heal what wouldn’t with the mod buried deep in your spine.  

You’re tired, you’re hungry, you’re angry. 

It wasn’t the first time you ended up here, it wouldn’t be the last. 

The Hutt knew where his money came from. He’d let them Do what they wanted, as long as they didn’t push too far. The Senator had pushed the limits, and now you were out of commission.  The Hutt wouldn’t like that. 

Not that you cared what he liked. 

The only reason you’d ever had to care about what made him happy was to get through another day, and you weren’t all that sure another day would be a good thing anymore. 

Behind closed eyelids, it was almost easy to pretend the dirt of the cell was the ground under the castle, that the cold air was just the breeze off the creek. These memories helped. Laying in the grass, waiting for your best friend to come bounding back, droid flitting by her side, ready for another adventure. 

This was not an adventure. 

~*~

The Domo wakes you by pulling at your wrist until you’re in a ball on your knees, breathing heavy from startling. “You need to get ready,” he snarls. 

“I’m not-“

“I didn’t ask.”

You know by now not to argue. They know when you’re ready, and they know when to ignore it for the right price. You stand, as dignified as you can, and follow him as he leads you from your cell. 

The tunnel leads front he dirt floors and rock walls of your cell to the compound proper filled with painted sandstone walls and cement floors. You follow quietly until he waves his hand over the sensor on one of the doors. It pops open, and you enter. 

There are clothes on the bed, and there;s a small bag of make up next to the basin filled with warm water. He sets himself at the door, watching invasively as you move to the basin. You strip the dirty jumpsuit off and use the towel to clean each inch of skin. You know what’s expected of you, and you know that disobeying only brings pain. 

You’re still in enough pain, and the only thing you know about who has bought you is that they either rate high enough, or have paid enough, for the Hutt break his own rules and pull you out before you’ve fully healed. You’re not willing to push back with so many unknowns. Soon enough the dirt is gone, and you braid back your hair into a tight plait, rolling it at the crown of your head. Next comes the make-up. It takes a little longer than usual, as you need to cover the bruise on your eye and the finger marks on your arm, but soon enough you’re painting around your eyes with the electric blue kohl that reminds you of a lightsaber’s shimmer and spreading bright pinks stain across your lips that stings and swells them just enough. 

Finally, you move over to the bed and slip into the blue scraps of fabric the Hutt calls clothes. Bright blue and shimmering gold wraps around your hips, just high enough to cover your low back by design, and low enough in the front to barely be descent. The bra is tight to the point it makes it a little hard to breathe, but nothing about this costume is functional. 

Just like the rest of it, it’s all for show. 

You slip back to the basin, grab the make-up bag and your discarded jumpsuit, and hand them to the Domo. 

You don’t even need to ask the question, he just looks you up and down, and tilts his head to the middle of the room. “On your knees. He won’t be long.”

He leaves, the lock On the door clicking into place behind him. 

It’s the not knowing that’s maddening. You move to the middle of the room and drop to your knees on the cold cement floor, head down. If you were not he Dias when someone approached, you can usually sense some of their intentions. Some of them you even know and know what to expect from them. 

You’re in the dark. 

The door clicks open, and you hear a set of heavy boots followed byt he soft slippers of the Domo. 

“She is all yours, sir,” he says brightly. “Is she to your liking?”

“She’ll do.” 

You look up, something you know you shouldn’t do, when you hear the hard, modulated sound. You drag your eyes right back to the ground, heart pounding. It’s him. 

It’s the Mandalorian. 

“And the accommodations?” The Domo is bright, and you’ve heard this little spiel more times than you can count. “We’re more than happy to get you another room or a different girl if-“

“You can go.” The Mandalorian’s voice leaves no room for arguement. All you can see are his boots: worn but heavy, and the complicated leather strappings that hold knives and bullets and maker-knows-what in place at his shins. 

“As you say, sir.” It’s so silent, you can hear the door click as the Domo leaves. 

You dare to do nothing but breathe, hands on your thighs, eyes down. 

This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To meet the Mandalorian? To have just a few minutes alone with him to either beg him to help you escape or to try to reach for the vibroblade in his boot? Somehow, confronted with him in one of these rooms, it feels wrong and twisted. 

He’s paid for you. 

He’s like all the rest. 

Why would he be here if he wasn’t?

It makes your stomach sink like a rock. 

“What’s your name?” He asks, voice flat and cold. You chance it and look up, eyes taking in every intimidating inch of his armor. Even though this was exactly how you’d imagined you’d meet him, it feels wrong on far too many levels. He’s not inching towards you, he’s not fisting his hands. 

He’s not excited, not itching to touch you or hit you, and even though the armor undoubtedly has many layers, you’re fairly sure he isn’t hard. 

You’d imagined an impassioned man that you could plead with, or a shy one that you could overcome with surprise, but every iteration of him at least wanted you. 

He didn’t want you, not like other patrons wanted you. He seemed indifferent. Blank. You weren’t sure how’d you get him to want you, to want to help you, if he didn’t care at all. You’d imagined he’d be infatuated. You imagined he’d be rough but still gentle. That he’d tie you up or pretend to catch you like a bounty and afterwards you’d offer him anything in exchange for your freedom from the Hutt. 

His cold stare gives you nothing to work with. 

You don’t answer, you can’t. You let your head hang, the skin pulling painfully at the top of the mod where it is still angry and red from your last customer. This wasn’t going like you wanted. “What do you want it to be?” You look up at him from under your lashes, trying your best to seem enticing. If he wouldn’t help, if you couldn’t seduce him into wanting to help you, you still had one more out. He needed to make an advance, or ask you to come to him. He needed to be closer if you were going to get your hands on his blaster or his blade. 

“You have a name, don’t you?”

He was infuriating. 

If the Hutt was watching, and he or one of his Domos was always watching somehow or another, he’d be angry. Mad. 

They always got mad when you didn’t do what they expected, and they expected you to make your patron feel welcome. The Mandalorian did not look welcome. It had been long, quiet minutes of you staring at one another. No touching, no propositions, just staring. 

It was hard to tell just how mad he’d be, you thought as you got up, because you hadn’t been there to see the negotiation. You didn’t know exactly how many credits the Mandalorian had parted with for your company. 

How much they paid always gave you a clue as to how cruel they’d be, how much the Hutt would watch and what he’d expect. 

You stood, slowly, eyes still only bouncing up to the helmet every few seconds. “You can call me whatever you like,” you whisper, stepping close to him  and setting your hands gently upon his shoulders to push him across the room. He moved back with you as you settled him on the edge of the ornate bed. 

His hands move up to your hips, gently pressing back, cautiously, not enough to really move you, though you can feel the power he is holding back. “I’m not here for that.” He moves like he is unsure, taken off guard. It doesn’t much matter to you. His blaster is close. Why the Hutt had allowed it in, you don’t know. But if he tries anything, well, it is close enough. 

“That’s what they all say.” You can’t keep the malice out of your voice, but you cover it quickly, dropping your eyes and looking up at him again from under your lashes. “Tell me what you want,” you whisper seductively, in a voice that you’ve learned men will crumple for. 

One way or another, you finally decide, you will going to be free of this place today. 

You aren’t going to suffer a day longer. 

He fights weakly again, pushing as if he doesn’t want to hurt you, his body tense. “Not this.”

His gentleness startles you just a little. You’re not used to men being soft with you, being considerate of you. 

You settle your thighs around his hips as you push him back further, hovering carefully as you lean to where his ear would be under the helmet, your hands settling on his shoulders as you kneel over him. You grow serious as his helmet cants to the side, questioning. “You paid for me, and the Hutt will be… mad… if I don’t please you.”

“That’s not what I’m here to do.”

“That makes you the first,” you mutter to yourself, pulling your hands from the beskar. It is warmer than you expect. “What are you here to do?”

He pulls back to look into your eyes. He says your name, and you freeze. 

Your heart drops. He’s a bounty hunter. A Mandalorian.  If he knows your name, your true name and not a code number or the disgusting moniker the Hutt uses to entice you to his clients, well… maybe today might be your day. 

One way or another, you are going to finally leave this place. 

You just didn’t think it would be in carbonite or a body bag. 

“That’s you, right?” He asks calmly, his voice changing little as it comes through the helmet. He pulls a holo out of his pocket and shines it between you. “Looks like you to me.”

You stumble from his lap, pulling back to the middle of the room. This is it. Today’s the day you finally die. It might be at his hands, or at the hands of the Hutt, and if it’s neither, well, you’re sure you still have enough energy to pull his blaster from the holster or the vibroblade he has stuffed in his boot. 

You’re not going back to the Imperial labs, though. You’ll die before you let yourself be brought back to one of those. 

The labs are the only place you can think of who would know who you are. They must have hired him to bring you back. 

For the first time in a long time, you feel vulnerable. Exposed. 

Your body had been little more than an annoyance for years. The clothes and heavy make-up the Hutt dressed you up in mere annoyances, but the chiffon and silk suddenly weren’t enough. The little bralette and the hanging strips of fabric that barely constituted a skirt weren’t like the uniform you’d once worn. 

For the first time, in a long time, you feel naked. 

And you can’t even tell if his gaze cares. 

You should be terrified. 

But you’re not. There’s fear, sure. It sits cold and knotted in your stomach. But there’s something else, too. 

You’d been courting death, hoping for it for so long now, and yet something in you screams to fight, to reach for life. 

You felt it when you’d touched him. The warmth on his beskar wasn’t just body heat, your mind finally registers, but a vestige of the force you’d once felt, calling out to you. 

There is something about him that is familiar and not frightening. He made you feel safe the moment you’d touched him, and now what you really feared was the thing you’d been hoping for for years. 

“Why are you here?” You whisper desperately, hope blooming in your chest. 

It was a hope for something you’d stopped even dreaming of years ago. 

“I think you know why I’m here,” his voice was almost, not quite, confused as it came through the modulator. 

The problem is, you don’t. You can’t really tell what you should be feeling. You’re afraid and excited, nervous and hopeful. Both are warring within you can his helmet is too blank to give you any kind of hint as to what he is really here for. 

Cold settles in your belly suddenly, a feeling you’ve felt far too often. The hairs raise on your arms, and you know you don't have much time. Your mind screams at you to hurry, but calmly as you can, you settle yourself on his lap again. His hands move to your hips, to try to push you off again, but you cover them with yours, holding them in place. “Just, play along, please.”

He stills his fight just in time for the door to open, his fingers curling up and over your wrists as his visor stays trained on your face. You could swear he’s searching for your heartbeat, that his fingers stop when they can feel your pulse pounding under your skin in time with the Hutt’s Domo’s steps. 

“She… does not please you, sir?” He starts out, voice full of pomp and ire. He’s one of your least favorite, and one of the most cruel. 

What you wouldn’t give to see the Mandalorian’s eyes. Only seconds ago you had a bloom of hope that you’d finally escapes this place, and now dozens of possibilities, all that you’ve lived through before, open up in your path. Without seeing his eyes, you couldn’t know. 

You still don't know what he’s here to do. 

Will he give you up? Or will he protect you?

He tips his helmet to the side, looking at the Twi’lek over your shoulder. “What made you think that?”

Your heart pounds further as you drop your eyes, looking down at his chestplate, struggling to keep your breathing even. 

The Twi’lek slides around the question. “We have others.”

“I want this one.”

You’re not sure if it’s fear or excitement that courses through you with his words, with the deep rumble in his chest that accompanies them. It could mean anything, but you focus on the feel of the beskar on your thighs, and remind yourself it’s warm. They’d stripped most of your abilities from you, but he was warm, and that meant something. He must feel you shiver in his arms, because he tightens his grip, ever so slightly, on your wrists. Just enough to remind you that he’s there, just enough to ground you. 

“Perhaps she is best taught her place then, sir?” You could hear the smile in his voice. “I can provide that service.”

Your breath stutters out of you at his words, your body tensing and trembling and you know the man below you felt your reaction when the Domo said ‘taught her place.’ You’d been brave once upon a time, taking each punishment he doled out with a stiff back and tearless eyes, but you’ve reached the end of your rope. There is no bravery left. You aren’t even sure if you’d be able to reach for the Mandalorian’s blaster if the Domo pulled you from his lap right now: every inch of you feels frozen and broken at the idea of falling to his hands once more. 

You wish you had the bravery and fire you were feeling just moments ago as you made a plan to grab the Mandalorian’s blaster, but the Domo’s stripped so much humanity from you already, there’s so little left to hold on to now. 

It seems your hope is well placed, and the Mandalorian is brave enough for both of you. “You’ll be leaving,” he says, short and clipped, as his hand leaves your wrist and moves back to your hip. Gentle. Calming. 

Possessive. 

His helmet moves back to look at you, but you can’t seem to look at his eyes. Or where you assume his eyes are. 

Shame? 

Is that what you feel welling in your gut, roiling and rolling and making you feel less than human now?

You’d never felt shame before. Not once. 

Not until now. 

Not until you couldn’t be brave enough to face another possible punishment at the Domos’s hands. 

He waits until the domo leaves, unmoving. “How did he know?” 

“Thermal cameras,” you whisper, “Sometimes they listen, too.” Your voice is small when it leaves your lips, filled with too many memories of things you don't ever want to remember. 

He stills under you. You don’t even feel him take a breath for long seconds. His hand slips from your wrist and gently lifts your chin. “How long have you been here?”

Looking into the darkness of his visor, feeling the reassuring warmth under you, that hope blooms again. Something about you is not what he expected, but you feel him, strong and sure and so very, very clear in his motives. You answer truthfully, with the only answer you have. “What year is it?”

That snaps something in him. Something dark and vengeful bubbling under the surface bursts and you feel him fight to pull it back. His hand moves from your hip, purposeful, to your cheek, framing your face with his other hand as he leans closer. 

Your heart pounds. Things are changing, things are moving, and yet this is the softest anyone’s been with you in so long it brings a tear to your eye. There’s no time for tears, not when he’s using his hands to shield his voice from carrying and anyone but him from seeing your lips, not when it’s so utilitarian. 

It has a purpose, even if it feels soft and intimate. 

“Do you need anything from here?” You shake your head: there’s nothing left for you here. “We’re leaving, understand?” You nod, your heart stopping for a second. Every wish you ever had is about to come true.  “What don’t I know that I need to know about this place?”

He’s so sure. He’s so confident. It breaks something in you and the tears fall. “He won’t let you leave with me. Not without killing one of us.”

His hands soften, just enough, to let you know he sees your fear. “That’s not going to happen today,” he replies gently, some of the edge taken from his voice. “What don’t I know? Like the thermals. I didn’t know about them. He didn’t have any in the cantina.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, centering with everything you have. “There are cameras in every hall. Guards at the end of every corridor. Each door is locked with a biometric code.”

“Know that,” he replies, “and I have a plan.” You could swear he was almost warm with you now. “What else?”

You go through every corridor you know, through every memory of this cruel place, and you come up with nothing… nothing until the one thing you try so hard to forget snaps your eyes open, fear running through your veins. 

How it wasn’t the first thing that you said, you’ll never know. 

You take one of his hands, gently pulling it down, guiding him under the high waistband at your low back. He starts to pull away until he feels it, his fingers ghosting over the metal of the mod over your spine.  

You remember the pain. 

The one time you made it far enough, the one other time hope surged through you too many years ago to count, and it was brought down with searing pain until you were writhing on the ground, begging the Hutt to make it stop as he and his guards laughed over you. 

“I won’t make it past the gate,” you whisper, curling in on yourself. 

His hand gently lifts your chin back up. “What did I tell you?”

You shake your head, not daring to believe it. You’ve only been in his presence for mere minutes, and you’ve whiplashed through so many emotions in that time. 

“We’re leaving. Now, lay on your left side.”

You shiver. You’re not sure if it’s fear or excitement, if you’re about to be betrayed or saved, but you can’t do anything but shift to his side and lay on the bed. You’ve begged so many patrons to help you get out, and they all played along until it was time to take you with them. Then they’d simply laugh as they left, leaving you in the hands of the Domo. Something about this one, though, makes you feel almost hopeful. He sits behind you, hand sliding over your hip. “I’m going to take a look at it, ok? I couldn’t see it from where I was.”

He’s good. The way he moves his arm would look like a caress on a thermal, but in reality he only sides the fabric just under the tech, peering closer. 

“What does it do?” 

“It’s components are entangled with my spine,” you whisper. “It pulls something from my blood,” you only half lie, not knowing how much he’s to be trusted yet, “and it can shock me. Sometimes it just hurts for a little while, other times I can’t walk for hours or days.” You take a deep breath. “The Domo’s said he can use it to kill me if I try anything.”

“How?” The leather gloves are soft on your skin. He’s being so gentle it seems unreal to you. 

“I don’t know. But, he has a control unit that he keeps on him.”

He leans down closer to your face. “The Hutt or the Domo?”

“Maybe both,” you search his helmet, the only thing you can see, for some sense of truth, some sense that he’s going to really help you. “I don’t know for sure.” 

He nods. “Alright then.” He leans back, looking over your body and down to your bare feet. “Can you run?”

“I can.” You roll on your side, looking up at him. “I can do anything you need me to to get out of here.” You sit up, reaching a hand out to his chest, heart hammering as you try to tell him everything he needs to know about you. “I will do anything to get out of here.”

You know you look silly, bright and bold make up marking you a pleasure worker, whisks of barely-there fabric only covering your breasts and hips, long panels of skirt that will trip up your legs, bare feet… but you think maybe, just maybe, he understands how desperate you are under all of it. 

“You’re going to follow me, ok?” He takes your hand, standing. “You do what I say, when I say it. Understand?”

You follow suit, standing. You nod, seriously. Your heart is pounding in your chest. 

It’s only when he pulls his gun from his holster that it really hits you. 

The Mandalorian is going to get you out of here. 

~*~

Your eyes open, and for a second you think you’re upside down. It’s black, or brown, rather, and something sharp is poking your ribs, and you can’t quite make sense of the way you’re jostling. 

Your eyes close, just for a second, and when they open again you can see the grounds outside the Hutt’s stronghold. You want to panic, but there’s not enough energy left. It hurts, gives you a headache, and you’re just going to close your eyes for a second. 

He’s carrying you. You’re slung over his shoulder. That much as manages to become clear in your mind as your eyes blink open again, fighting the desire to close, fighting your body’s need for rest. You can feel his pauldron digging into the skin of your abdomen. You must moan, because his modulated voice drifts over to you. You can’t make out what he says, but it doesn't matter. There’s grass under his feet. You can’t remember the last time you saw grass. The Hutt didn’t have grass in his compound. 

There wasn’t grass anywhere in the gates. 

You thought you saw grass once, from a window on the top floor while a customer made a game of holding you out the window, threatening to drop you. But the grass was really far away. Too far away to be sure that it even was grass. 

There’s grass under the Mandalorian’s feet, though. 

He did it. 

You’re out. 

You close your eyes. Just for a second. 

~*~

He leaves you unconscious on the floor, moving quickly up the ladder and to the controls, flipping switches and turning dials in a pattern that’s ingrained so deeply in him that he never has to think about it anymore. 

He can think about other things as he sets the ship into the air, like how you’d wandered around the Hutt’s Dias like a beautiful ghost for days as he watched, not knowing what was truly happening to you. Like how you looked up at him through seductive lashes from your knees. Like how you felt in his lap, trying to tease his wants from him. 

Like how he felt sick when he realized you were something more than just a prisoner, more than just a prostitute, even if he still can’t exactly tease out what you were to the Hutt yet... 

Like how you tried to hide behind him when the Twi’lek Domo met you at the door with a set of guards. Like how you grabbed the vibroblade in his boot and spun on the guard with skill that surprised everyone. Like how he watched you fall to your knees as that Twi’lek pushed that button in his hands, eyes wide with fear and panic as pain spasamed through your body, then how the Twi’lek let his hand fly, catching you in the back of the skull with his fist, sending you face first to the floor.

Like how you felt, limp in his arms when he stopped you from hitting the concrete face first with one arm, blaster smoking from his shot at the Twi’lek in his other hand. 

How the Domo and his guards looked on the floor as he stepped over their dead bodies, carrying you from that place after he’d picked through he Domo’s pockets, taking anything and everything that might be related to the mod on your back. 

These things replay in his mind, over and over again. 

He only ever took bounties before this. He’d never taken a true, paid, rescue mission before. 

It left him feeling disturbed, but he couldn’t put his finger quite on why. 

Once in the sky, once he was back among the stars, he felt like he could start to breathe again. He slumped back against his chair, pulling the small data chip from his belt and running his hands over it. 

He’d thought you were working there. He couldn’t understand why Skywalker wanted a prostitute, but nothing he’d observed in that week of recon while he sat in the cantina told him anything different. He’d watched you flit across the Dias, sad and disconnected, passed from patron to patron, just like the rest of them. Aside from the Hutt keeping you close to his side, you looked like any other offering in that dark, disgusting place. 

There was something different about you, though. The other prostitutes didn’t have mods. The others didn’t need to be shocked to be kept in line. The others were sad, but not desperate. 

The others moved of their own free will. You had been brought in and out in chains and binders. 

The others weren’t prisoners. 

His job wasn’t to ask questions, though, it was to get you to Skywalker. It took him too long to figure out how to get you out, how to get close to you, when he needed to keep you safe as a rescue instead of storing you in carbonite like a bounty. There was a reason he was a bounty hunter. It was much easier to get in, get your target, and get gone when they were guilty of something and when it didn’t exactly matter if they were warm or cold when he hauled them back to Karga. 

The dread, the disgust at finding out you were a prisoner, a slave that fell to cruel hands to the point where you feared them with trembling breath, made him sick. His stomach still roiled at the idea of you needing to please him to avoid some kind of punishment. He’d spent his life bringing the scum of the galaxy into the guild. It wasn’t hard to imagine some of the things that happened in that compound once he really started to think about what kind of place the Hutt was probably running. 

He flipped the chip though his fingers again, then slipped it into the console. He didn’t find much on the Domo, just the small data pad that controlled the mod and this data chip. With a few clicks, the lists opened before his eyes. Most names he didn’t know, but some he recognized. It took him longer than he was proud of to figure out what it was. 

He copied the information to the onboard computer before he pulled the chip out and slipped it in his belt. He’d need it one day. He was sure of it. 

Din wanted to turn around, to use the guns on the Crest to obliterate the Hutt and his patrons, but he held back. There were too many unknowns, and if the Hutt’s list of patrons he had tucked away in his belt was any indication, there might be repercussions from beings in positions of power throughout the galaxy. 

It made him sick. 

But there wasn’t time for that. 

No. 

He needed to get into Hyperspace, get to Navarro, and get that thing out of you. 

He wasn’t sure if Skywalker knew about the mod, or if he expected you to be presented to him with it in, but Mando wasn’t letting you go another day longer than necessary with that in your body. 

Not when he could see the way you convulsed when the shocks ran through your body every time he closed his eyes. 

He didn’t think Skywalker was that kind of man, but if he had anything to say about you showing up without it…

Well, he could try to say something. But it wouldn’t matter. 

It was coming out as soon as he could find a way how. 

Hyperspace first, then pulling out the camping roll he was pretty sure he still had in storage for you to sleep on.

Hyperspace first. 

He couldn’t wait to put some parsecs between his ship and that Hutt. 

[lina-delgado]

Unable to avoid the discussion of her “pregnancy” forever, Lina ends up stuck getting @sagetomashardy‘s stance on the matter as he tries to convince her how dangerous keeping her baby would be.

tw mentions of abortion

It seemed like every day Emre was telling her to go talk to Tomas, go see Tomas, why haven't you gone to Tomas yet? At some point Lina felt like she might snap, instead of giving him the usual excuse of being nervous about talking about this. She could only use that excuse for so long, but she would milk it for as long as she could.

So hers and Alex's place was like her little hiding hole. Being such close proximity to the farm she didn't want to leave too often in case she had to run into Tomas because knowing her luck the moment she stepped out of her hut he would be walking by. Emre must have said something about it by now, honestly she was surprised he didn't drag Tomas over for a house call. But that thought wasn't too far off as she heard the sound of Tomas' voice approaching along with a much higher pitched voice that she had to assume was his baby.

So Lina picked herself up from lounging on her bed and walked over to the door, timing her exit when it sounded like his voice was close enough to her place. "Oh, wow what a coincidence you're here." She said once she swung the door open for him, trying to sound impressed by their timing. "I was just on my way to see you."

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

"Were you, now." Tomas didn't doubt Lina, exactly; or at least he didn't doubt her in general, as a person. He had no real reason to think that she would lie to anybody, but the fact that she hadn't sought out medical attention in her condition, well. That spoke volumes. 

Not that he blamed her, with what she was facing. "You know Flora, don't you?" Tomas asked, hefting the baby in his arms so she could turn and look at Lina. "She's getting big now but I think you might. From before we got here to South Beach, and my wi--" Tomas bit the word off, his stomach turning over. "Libby and I found her and took her in." How much did Lina remember from what her dupe did? Was it even worth Tomas bringing it up to remind her? And what would he even say-- 

Hey, d'you remember how your dupe did her best to make me feel like I'm attractive when I've never felt less wanted?

Yeah, that would go over great, not awkward at all. Flora peered at Lina and made three beeps before demanding to be put down, which Tomas obeyed, watching her imperiously start to explore the house. "So. I think we both know what you were coming to see me for."

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

"Oh, yeah, for sure." Lina confirmed with a nod. He didn't need to be nosey about it. Lina was sure she could play up with exhausted, worried and stressed out new mother if he felt like the way she avoided seeking help was a little bit suspicious. She wasn't sure how the proper way to react to all of this was, and she could argue there was no proper way because everyone was different. Just because she said she was planning on keeping the baby didn't mean she couldn't also be terrified about hearing the procedures.

But now she probably couldn't escape the talk with Tomas there. Thankfully, the baby in his arms, Flora was a good buffer. "Right. Yeah, I remember her. Not like I was really close with the parents but kind of hard to forget when a baby is born around here." It felt like her and Flora were having a bit of a staring match as Tomas held her, like the two of them were trying to understand each other. As her way of calling a truce, Lina reached out and booped Flora's little nose before looking back at Tomas.

"I'm sure...Emre already told you what happened. We already talked to Nesh about it and Emre loves to mention how you're riddled with horror stories on the subject so, sorry if going to see you has been a little easy to push back."

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

"No," Tomas said after a moment of being flabbergasted, "it's not like you can forget how babies get born around here." He watched as Lina tapped Flora's nose, cool as a cucumber,  before Tomas put the toddler down and she went off her own way. Either Lina hadn't been aware of the issues concerning childbirth on the island, despite the no doubt tense atmosphere surrounding the arrival of baby Flora into the world, or she ... she what? Thought things would go easily for her?

"Riddled with--" Tomas began to repeat after Lina gave her opinion on the matter, then made a frustrated sound. "Listen! If Emre told you anything regarding what I know about island pregnancies, and if you listened to even a quarter of it, you'd be shaking in your boots, missy." He frowned deeply at her, regarding her midsection with a considering look. "You can't be very far along. That means that you have options, Lina." Tomas met her eyes, holding her gaze. "I don't know if Emre told you that part. Or if Dr. Nanku would've offered it."

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Lina watched the way Tomas got all worked up about her responses. She probably would have enjoyed this stern attitude if it weren't for the fact that it was in regards to her supposed pregnancy. Even if Tomas had any sort of attraction to her, she couldn't imagine he'd find this an appropriate time to do anything about it. So she crossed her arms and sat herself down while he went on with his suggestion of her having options that may not have been presented to her.

"Well sure but what's more dangerous around here? Having the baby or getting rid of it? Because I can't imagine an abortion is the safest option in this circumstance." She gladly would have taken it as an option if she didn't back herself into this corner. Part of her wondered if Nesh would be able to lie on her behalf, but it seemed unlikely and she couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth. "Neither of them told me much, they were more focused on their pissing contest. But I have a feeling that my options are limited and both are risky."

She leaned her head back in exasperation, glancing over to see Flora's exploration resulted in her finding some of Lina's clothes to play with. "Hey munchkin, those clothes are way too big for you." She said, attempting her best 'cool aunt' voice, hoping the toddler didn't start putting things in her mouth. "What would you suggest I do then? Because I'm just trying to go with the lesser of two evils here, but if you have a better alternative, I'm all ears."

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

"Having the baby! Having the baby is very much more dangerous than aborting it!" Tomas was aghast. When Iyaz had arrived on the island he'd taken over all of the contraceptive talks (well, Tomas had forced him to, but who was counting?) but there were obviously gaps in island education. What with Lina being from South Beach and all. "Look, Lina -- I'm not saying this lightly. I know it's a big decision. But it's the safer choice when it comes down to it. You don't want to know all the complications that childbirth involves, in a proper hospital much less here. Even with a proper doctor to deliver."

Lina looked exasperated, and Tomas was frustrated. She obviously could get laid whenever she felt like it and from what he'd heard on the outskirts of island gossip, wasn't parsimonious with her favours; why was this such a new issue for her? Surely she'd been versed on the contraceptive tea up till now. He frowned, ignoring whatever Flora was getting into to train his attention all on Lina, crossing his arms along with the scowl.

"I suggest you tell me why you slipped up with the tea," Tomas said. "I severely doubt that you'd be that careless. You're..." he paused, pressing his lips together for a moment before confessing, "your dupe came on to me. I didn't realize it wasn't you until all the tree-trapped people got found. And if I wasn't very much in love with my wife, I would've screwed her in a heartbeat." He shrugged one shoulder. "You're a beautiful girl, Lina, you don't need me to tell you that. And I don't think you've lacked for company when you want it. So tell me the truth."

Tomas reached forward, catching her chin in his hand tightly. "Did you get pregnant on purpose?"

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Lina had completely been making assumptions about what option would be worse. She mostly considered how unlikely it was for them to be able to do a safe and proper abortion around here. And then if she really was pregnant, that would easily be two lives lost. She had to try and think about it from a motherly point of view and not as someone who was faking a pregnancy. "Well I don't know okay! I've never had to go through this before and I'd probably be able to properly understand things if everyone wasn't choosing to yell at me about it."

When he held her face in his hand, locking his stern gaze on her, she assumed he was completely onto her about lying. Lina was prepared for him to say outright she was faking until he opened his mouth and asked if she got pregnant on purpose. He still thought she was up to something but hadn't caught on just yet. "No! Of course not! I didn't–this was an accident. I don't have sex every day so I don't drink the tea every day. But sometimes Emre would come around to drag me away somewhere for a quicky and I guess this one time I got so wrapped up in it I forgot to mention I didn't drink it, he forgot to ask and he fucked me so good that taking it after we were done slipped my mind. And I've had enough experience off the island to not expect to get knocked up from the one time we don't use protection."

She didn't bother pulling away from his grasp, waiting for him to let go of her when he wanted to. "Why would I even do something like this on purpose? I understand it's risky, I'm trying to be chill and cool about it but maybe I am scared about making the wrong decision and things going wrong. I just...I don't know what to do." She finished quietly, her eyes mirroring something akin to fear at all of this. "And both doctors yelling at me isn't exactly helping, the only person who has been helping is Emre. So could you not make me feel shittier than I already do for like, five minutes?"

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

"Oh, don't give me that." Tomas had thought he'd be more gentle about this, all cotton-wool-wrapped and carefully-presented ideas and options to a young woman who'd found herself in a predicament, but the more he spoke to Lina the more agitated he was getting. "There's no way you can be this unprepared for what's happening. You don't have to have gone through having a baby to know the broad strokes on what it entails and--"

--and it wasn't like she didn't have a point. Tomas furrowed his brow, blinking at her in consternation as he thought about it. "You're right, though, I shouldn't yell at you. That's not likely to help any, is it." How deep should he go with this, exactly? Once she said that it had entirely been an accidental pregnancy, she hadn't decided to do this without (what Tomas considered) a measured and invested conversation about having a baby beforehand, he at least could shut down that avenue of concern. He grimaced reflexively when Lina laid the blame squarely at Emre's feet, not liking that much either, but again: not helpful to be judgmental. Not at this point in the proceedings. "Getting your brains fucked out isn't a reason to neglect contraception." 

Okay, so it was harder than it seemed to keep from scolding her. Tomas kept hold of Lina's chin, just adjusting his grip so he was cupping her face rather than cinching her immobile. "You shouldn't be chill or cool about it. You should listen to me and to Doctor Nanku. And if I'm making you feel shitty, Lina, it's because I know exactly what you're facing when it comes to having a baby here and it's not good. It's not good at all. I think you should think seriously about ..." Tomas couldn't say it, abortion, hearing Flora in the next room giggling froggily to herself about something. "I think you should choose the other option. Terminating it." Less direct but no less firm.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Lina could see that playing this completely dumb wasn't enough for Tomas to settle in. He was too smart for that, and wasn't easily distracted either. But at least there was a pause at her argument about being yelled at, but the problem was, regardless of what he said and how he articulated it, it wouldn't mean anything to her. There were no actual stakes, nothing as serious as the death of her and her baby. Her only concern was making sure he didn't doubt her.

"Not particularly no. I've never responded well to yelling in situations like this." She was going to make a comment but had to refrain in case it made him more annoyed with her than he already was. Bringing his sex life into this wouldn't make things better. "I'll make sure to keep it in mind next time someone fucks my brains out."

Tomas stood firm in his opinion on the matter, that not carrying a baby would be a lot safer than doing so. And it was such an easy way out, if there was any way to actually get rid of a baby that didn't exist without everyone realizing that it didn't exist. Lina placed her hands over her stomach, as if there was something there to comfort, trying to think of what would be the best response to placate Tomas but also not put her in a situation that might get her caught. "I hear you, but it's a big decision. I mean its not guaranteed that terminating it goes well for me either, right? And I'm gonna be honest, Emre seemed to be ready to go into parent mode when I told him, which I did not expect. So as much as it's my body, my choice and all that, I also think it's fair to talk to him about it, see what he wants." She wasn't sure if it sounded sweet or stupid but she could work with whatever Tomas took it as.

"But theoretically, say we do end up wanting to keep it." Because then she could sit and wait til she came up with a solution to her lie.  "What then?"

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

"Terminating it is your best shot. I wouldn't say that lightly, Lina. Believe me." At least the girl was listening, now; Tomas had been getting the perplexing sense that she'd been more lost in her own rumination before and not particularly grasping the weight of what he was trying to get across. "I'm a parent, and my wife and I lost pregnancies. It's not easy. It can mess you up. But trying to carry a baby to term here and then giving birth? That's --"

He didn't want to think about Emre. Who was certain to want this, Tomas was sure; who'd be struggling with all the horror stories that Tomas had spilled out of his hands at the slightest provocation versus the huge, ragged, baby-brother-shaped hole in himself. It really wasn't fair. Emre would make an incredible father. He practically already had. 

"It's a death sentence," Tomas finished, somewhere intermingled with Lina's decision that she needed to consult the father. "I can't say it any more plainly than that. But you're right, it's not my choice."

He skidded the heel of his hand up across his face, looking over at Flora, who'd discovered some kind of woven basket with a few sweet potatoes in it and had curled up in it to make friends with them. "If you want to keep your baby," he rephrased ponderously, to give it more weight, "then you have to visit the doctor regularly. Follow his every instruction. If he doesn't have time, then I'll do it. You'll have to adjust your diet and your daily habits. You'll have to stick to the beach here where it's populated and safe. If anything screwy happens -- like it does -- you'll have to be protected. A priority."

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Lina nodded as she listened to Tomas, wanting to look understanding and sympathetic to the truths he was sharing about his own experiences. "I'm sorry to hear that. I can see why this is important to you. I promise I'll take it all into consideration." Or at least use it to her advantage somehow. A sob story to make Emre rethink his desire to be a parent around here. Though if all the mention of death didn't deter him, what the hell would?

She knew she would have been scared if she actually had anything to worry about. This wouldn't even be a debate if she was pregnant, but she had a lie to drag out, she had to consider the best course of action. Like what the hell was she gonna do when she didn't start showing? There were getting to be too many eyes on her now, which, on one hand she was totally fine with, but on the other, this isn't what she wanted people paying attention to her for. "Maybe but...clearly it's worked out at least once." She commented as she gestured over to the baby touching everything in the place like it was her own.

"But I don't want to argue. I wanted opinions and options and...you're being very helpful by giving me your thoughts. So thank you." Lina could work with scheduled alone time with Nesh, he would be easier to distract than Tomas, who would probably be poking and prodding and asking far too many questions that Lina wouldn't have the answers to. "Understood. It's a big change, a lot to accommodate for. I'll talk to Emre about it and we'll make an executive decision and...go from there. I know it's very serious business so I'll do my best not to take any of this lightly anymore."

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The shift in her attitude was palpable and Tomas felt himself ... not exactly relax, but at least be mollified by Lina stating out loud that she was more aware now about what she was facing. All of the dangers and troubles and intricacies. 

"I don't want to argue either," he said, going over to collect Flora out of the basket. She protested but Tomas took one of the sweet potatoes to give her to keep her occupied, presuming that Lina could just hop down to the farm and get another if she wanted it. "I just needed you to know. How hard -- how dangerous this will be for you, if you decide to carry the child to term." He was heading for the door, but he lingered for a moment at it, not quite looking at Lina.

"Don't hold back," he said. "When you're talking to Emre. Don't reassure him that you and the infant will live through this, don't tell him that you want to try. Don't encourage him in any way. He'll..." Tomas shook his head. "Let me know what you decide." 

He left it at that, stepping out into the sunshine with his own baby, who'd lived.

END.

[acourtofbookishdreams]

Azriel ~ Different

Azriel x Reader

Summary: You have been having nightmares frequently and Azriel always is there to help you. This time, though, you finally open up about your nightmares and the things you experienced Under the Mountain.

Warning: Mentions of r*pe and sex*al assault. Please be wary.

Word Count: 1785

Azriel POV

Her screams had woken me again.

"Azriel! Azriel, no!"

This was becoming a recurrent, nightly tradition. A tradition I wished would would just simply not be anymore.

I did what I always did, bursting into her room, Truthteller at the ready to fend off whatever ailed her but we both knew it was mostly for show. Still, I would never not rush to her side, never leave Truthteller behind for the sake of the fact that the one time I didn't would inevitably be the one time something was truly, physically wrong with her and I would kick myself for treating it as any other night - especially since the fear was certainly not all that unfounded.

But it was just a nightmare. Another nightmare.

'YOUR' POV

My screams had woken him again.

He had done the chivalrous thing of course, bursting into my room with Truthteller, prepared to fight the evil lurking in the shadows he couldn't predict or trust but we both knew nothing was there to fight, it was all in my head.

Another nightmare.

One like all the rest but this time...it was worse.

"Y/N" Azriel breathes, lowering the blade

"I'm okay" I shake my head, offering a weak smile, "Routine procedure at this point, right?"

I bite my lip, trying to hold the tears back and averting my gaze. It was usually at this point that Azriel would ask if I wanted him to stay but for some reason tonight was different. He closed the door, left Truthteller on the bedside table and climbed into bed with me immediately after, no questions, no waiting for an invitation.

Of course, I knew if I told him to leave he would do so. It was always my choice. But tonight it appeared maybe he needed this contact as much as I.

"You're safe" Azriel murmurs, gathering me into his arms.

I choke on a sob, curling into his side and resting my head on his bare chest. Usually, when he was shirtless it was an effort to keep focused but at the moment it was just further proof he was here, alive and free. It was proof he was safe.

"It's not my safety that scares me" I breathe. Once again, we were breaking from normal pattern. Previous nights, it had always been my screaming waking him, he would run in, ask if I wanted him to stay, I would agree and then he'd hold me until I fell asleep.

I never talked about the nightmares I had, never. Not even the first time...

"No!" she screamed, thrashing violently in the bedsheets, almost tearing them apart, "No, don't take-NO!"

"Y/N!" Azriel yells, bursting in through the door at the same time she awakens, clutching the sheets to her chest, sweat slick hair plastered to her forehead, tears streaming down in uncontrolled rivers of fear and pain, "Y/N, what is it?!"

"Nothing, Az, I'm sorry for waking you" she sighed, running a hand through her hair, "It was just a nightmare, I've had them for a while."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Azriel frowned, Truthteller lowering to his side.

"It wasn't necessary. I've been dealing with these since-before I got back."

"Would you..." Azriel trailed off, "Do you want me to stay?"

"No, I..." she began to reject the proposal but suddenly changed her mind, "Actually, yes, please."

Azriel nods, placing Truthteller on the bedside table before moving to open up the covers, having since nervously been put in some semblance of order as they had spoken but he stops mid-way noting that her resolve had shaken - that she was now shaking, violent sobs wracking her body.

"Y/N" Azriel said and the one word was enough to break her.

"Azriel" she sobbed, tears flowing freely again, face screwed up into an expression of unfiltered pain.

"Y/N" Azriel whispers, sitting on the bed and pulling her onto his lap. She wrapped her legs and arms around him, securing herself to him as she sobbed into his neck until the sun rose.

She had fallen asleep that way, her legs and arms secured around him in a tight embrace, tears dried and leaving her skin slightly sticky with the moisture.

He had placed her down in the bed after he had fixed the sheets with one hand, the other supporting her body, becoming limp each second sleep overtook her.

He had intended to leave but she had subconsciously clung to him with a grip so strong it had surprised him and rather than risk waking you or, worse, upsetting you, he had climbed into bed beside her, tucking her into his chest so her face rested right where his heart was.

He had found it a very fitting place for her to rest.

Azriel had done it every night since, every time a nightmare came around unless you wished otherwise, which had never happened as of yet. Even if you didn't scream out, his shadows were so attuned to you, he would sense it and come in anyhow - where you would be sitting cross legged on the bed, hugging yourself or crying or just staring at the ceiling with a dead expression on your face.

Having him with you, holding you in his arms, stroking your hair, legs intertwined and breathing synchronised. It was the best remedy for your fear.

A cure.

"Then what does scare you?" Azriel asks, his voice hesitant to bring up a memory that causes you pain.

"You do" I breathe, "My nightmares are always about you."

Azriel breathes in deeply, "I scare you?"

"No, no!" I rebuke, "No, not you personally! My nightmares always involve you...they..."

"You don't have to tell me" Azriel whispers

"I think I need to" I admit, "These dreams, they're obviously not getting better. Maybe telling someone...maybe telling someone will help."

Azriel waits patiently. Content to listen or to completely disregard everything you said if that was what you wished, the way he'd always been.

"Most nights, A-Amarantha comes back" I explain, stumbling over the name, "And this time she takes you instead of Rhys and other nights...other nights it had always been you that was taken."

"And she took you because she knew he was hiding something" Azriel confirmed, it was the little knowledge he did have of Amarantha and her motives, "So to punish him further, she took you, his only living relative, and..."

"And that's all you know" I nod, "But what you don't know is that...she didn't just punish Rhys. She punished me too."

Azriel stiffens in my arms, his hand momentarily freezing in it's soothing stroking up and down my spine.

"If any of it gets to be too much, I can stop" I say

"No" Azriel shakes his head, "You lived it. I can at least stand to hear about it, especially if it helps you."

"She used to...make me watch." I spat in disgust, "While she...basically raped Rhys I had to watch. Everything she did to him, the malice in her eyes while she did what she did, the enjoyment in knowing he was doing this not for her but to protect what he loved...Worse, we both had to pretend it was normal. That we enjoyed it. If we didn't, our facade as the Court of Nightmares would fall apart and we couldn't let that happen."

Peering up at Azriel, I stopped for a moment to assess his reaction. His eyes were hard as flint, like chips of hazel ice. He nodded softly, encouraging me to continue.

"On the odd occasion she would also...bring me into the scene. It wasn't often, she didn't like it all that much herself it was mainly just to put us on edge. Thankfully, she never made us do anything...to each other. I never touched Rhys once nor he me and I'll always thank the Mother for that but she would still...it was still..."

"You don't need to say what it was" Azriel cuts in, "I know."

Traumatising.

It was traumatising.

"So, when the nightmares come about. It's not Rhys under Am-under her. It's you. I see her with you. Some nights you're faking it like we had to, others you're genuinely enjoying it, and sometimes you're...screaming and-and begging her to stop-" My tears choke off the words and I sob loudly.

He pulls me ever closer in response, hushing me as his hands stroke my hair, "That's not me. It was never me."

"What if it could be?" I cry, "What if another one of her comes around one day and they take you. I couldn't bear it-"

"You could. I had to" Azriel admits. Both comforting and upfront. He would never lie to you and to say it would never happen again could be a lie, "When you were taken, I...Cauldron, I would always try to leave Velaris, damn the consequences. It was always Amren and sometimes Mor and Cass who would pull me off the ledge. I couldn't stand it, thinking about what she could be doing to Rhys but, to you...it was worse. Infinitely worse."

"If it ever does happen, I need you to be strong" Azriel continues, "I will do everything in my power to keep it from happening but if the Mother decides that's how things play out...I will need you to be strong, to protect yourself because the idea of you ever being hurt for the sake of me...it's not right."

"It would be" I sniffle, "To keep you safe, I would do anything. I did. Rhys did."

"You'll never have to again" Azriel resolves, kissing the top of my head, "Never again."

I exhale loudly, making a sudden decision that could change everything.

"Azriel?"

"Mmm?"

"I love you."

"I love you too" His response was automatic. I mean, we had said it a dozen times but this...was different.

"I don't mean it like that" I admit, peering up at him sheepishly, "I'm in love with you. I have been for a...a very long time."

Azriel's silence spurs me on to speak more, explain myself.

"I understand if you don't feel the same and I'm sorry I never told you earlier but at first it was a crush and then...then I got taken and I was stuck without you for so long. After that, I knew it was love and not a crush on my part but I couldn't say anything. I just...I couldn't. But then you came in every night to help with my nightmares and that was-"

My words are cut off as Azriel takes my chin in his hand, dipping his head and kisses me. Soft, tentative, comforting. It wasn't the kind of kiss that made your toes curl or butterflies erupt, it was the kind of kiss that admitted everything words could never express.

He pulls back only slightly, leaving you nose to nose.

"I have always loved you" Azriel breathes, "From the moment I saw you barrelling into the Illyrian camps, bright smile and unruly attitude."

"I love you" I smile, tears sliding down my face, - happy tears, "So much"

"And I you."

After that, neither of you slept alone ever again.

Masterlist

[ultimatetrashyfanfic]

Still loving Komahina and I also love hurt/comfort sickfics so this was pretty inevitable. Nagito is very good for sickfics. Anyway, I wanted to show these two trying to navigate a bad illness and all the frightening and sometimes embarrassing things that come with that. Post-hope arc again. With fluff because I can’t NOT do fluff. I hope you enjoy it - Circle

Also on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34280557

Warning: descriptions of vomiting (I didn’t describe the puke itself or anything, don’t worry, I’m emetophobic myself) and high fevers/vague descriptions of medical procedures.

Hajime noticed at the beach this time - and just like every time, he kicked himself for not noticing before he’d made Nagito leave the cabin. He thought back to when Nagito stumbled as they walked across the island, about how he’d chased every meagre bite of breakfast with a gulp of water like it was difficult to get down. Hajime hadn’t been vigilant enough, and now they were sitting together on the sand and Nagito was leaning far too heavily against his shoulder.

“Nagito?” Hajime said cautiously. When Nagito turned his head, Hajime hastily put a hand to his forehead, managing to catch it before Nagito veered away. “I knew it. You’re burning up.”

Some old routine. Nagito would deflect, then grow self-deprecating; Hajime would shut that down, then begrudgingly carry Nagito back to their cabin. They’d done this dance together over and over, whenever Nagito’s weakened state and illness made something like a common cold seem as serious as smallpox.

It didn’t seem so bad for the next couple of days. Nagito had a fever, but it was a low one, and he ate when Hajime asked and seemed alert and talkative. Hajime felt comfortable leaving him in the care of their friends while he went to Mikan for medicine and advice - though his friends proved to need supervision of their own. He returned to his cabin just as Sonia and Gundham were leaving, reassured when Sonia reported that Nagito wasn’t any worse. At the time, he didn’t notice the splashes of brown paint on Gundham’s bandages or Sonia’s dress.

Hajime stopped short when he stepped over the threshold. There was a gigantic swirly witchy symbol covering almost the whole wall above the bed, the heavy smell of paint in the air. Nagito was peeping over the top of the bedsheets, eyes sparkling.

“What the hell is that?” Hajime couldn’t even sound angry. He was just bloody tired. Why were the Ultimates so dramatic?

“Sonia and Gundham did a ritual for my good health,” Nagito explained. His lip twitched and Hajime knew he was fighting a smile. “I was so honoured to have two Ultimates working to help me that I thought it’d be unspeakably ungrateful to protest.”

“Oh, shut up, Nagito! I can see you just think it’s funny,” Hajime snapped. Nagito snorted and disappeared under the sheets, spluttering.

Hajime sighed and took another look at the giant eyesore on his wall. At least it was painted fairly neatly - and he knew Gundham and Sonia’s hearts were in the right places even if this particular stunt was irritating. He supposed they were trying to help in a weird way. Sonia went along with anything Gundham said, and Hajime didn’t expect Gundham to know you shouldn’t paint giant symbols on other people’s walls without permission. Gundham navigated social interactions like he was going into battle; Hajime doubted he would ask permission for something he clearly saw as a good deed.

“Doesn’t it make your boring plain wall more interesting?” Nagito piped up.

“Don’t push your luck, Nagito.”

“Right. Who knows what pushing my luck will do.”

Later on, Hajime would worry that he’d jinxed them somehow, that whatever strange force was behind Nagito’s Ultimate Luck was malevolent and wanted to teach them a lesson for mocking it - because that night brought disaster. Nagito was usually exceptionally clingy when they were in bed, often to the point where Hajime got so warm he had to pry him off, but now he curled up right on the very edge of the mattress, well away from Hajime. Hajime knew he was awake from his strangely measured breaths and his unusual stillness; Nagito was a restless sleeper. He frequently kicked Hajime in the night and rolled right on top of him and yanked the blankets away. Sometimes Hajime felt like he’d get more sleep on a busy runway as airplanes roared overhead.

Hajime poked Nagito in the back, careful not to tip him right off the bed. “Hey. What’s up?”

He didn’t get a response. Hajime sighed. “Do you think I’m stupid? I know you’re not asleep. You never sleep like that. So what’s going on?”

He wound his arms around Nagito’s waist and tried to pull him closer to get a better look at him, but Nagito winced and slapped his hands away with surprising force. “Don’t,” he gasped, curling up even tighter. “Don’t press…”

“What? Is it your stomach?” This was new. Nagito had been off his food lately, but then he frequently found it difficult to eat. “Do you feel nauseous?”

Silence. Getting information from Nagito was like getting blood from a stone sometimes. Hajime felt Nagito’s forehead in the gloom. His fever had definitely gone up and his skin was clammy. Hajime let his fingers trail down Nagito’s cheeks to his jawline and felt along his neck - the lymph nodes were so swollen they felt like two throbbing ping pong balls.

“Fuck,” Hajime muttered. “I thought we might get through this one without anything too bad.”

He was expecting some strange rambling about how this bad luck would inspire them to hope for good things in the future, but Nagito still didn’t speak. He rolled over and shuffled across the bed, tucking his burning head right under Hajime’s chin. It worried Hajime more than any words could; Nagito didn’t actively seek out comfort unless he was feeling really terrible.

“Hey,” Hajime mumbled, having to spit out a mouthful of Nagito’s unruly curls. “Ugh, your hair keeps getting in my mouth. Look, I know you’re sick and I’m sure it must feel crappy, but you’ll be okay. You’ll probably feel better by tomorrow morning. Right?” Hajime knew he sounded like he was trying to convince himself as well as Nagito.

More silence. Hajime could feel Nagito shivering, and wound his arms around him quickly. He usually teased Nagito for being so chilly all the time, needing his jacket whenever the sun dipped behind the clouds and getting goose pimples in the air conditioned cabins, but it didn’t seem remotely funny anymore. Nagito trembled like he was buried up to his neck in snow, but he certainly didn’t feel cold.

“You’re burning up. Fuck, I think I need to get Mikan,” Hajime said. He felt a hand shoot out and grab hold of his t-shirt, clinging for dear life. Hajime knew he could easily pry Nagito off, but he couldn’t bring himself to try at a time like this. “Okay, don’t freak out. I’ll stay. But I’m going if you get any worse.”

It was after midnight when the vomiting started. They’d already been in the bathroom since eleven, huddled together on the floor by the toilet, sharing a blanket. Nagito kept sleepily begging Hajime to go back to bed and leave him there, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Shut up,” he mumbled. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t be here with me if our roles were reversed.”

“That’s different. You’re you and I’m me,” Nagito whispered. He let his burning head rest against Hajime’s shoulder despite his pleading.

“It shouldn’t be different though. It’s not different, not to me. You’re sick and I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway if I knew you were in here on your own feeling miserable.”

“You have such a kind heart, Hajime. To think you could care so much about someone as worthless as I am.”

“Nagito. If you don’t stop that I’m going to shove your head down the toilet and flush, no matter how sick you are,” Hajime threatened. “You’re not worthless. For the millionth time.”

“You’d think you’d have got tired of saying that by now,” Nagito said.

“I have. Very fucking tired. But I’ll keep saying it until you believe me. Now shut up and try to get some rest. And let me know when you need to throw up. You’re in a position right now that would have you puking down my front and it’s making me nervous.”

Thankfully, Nagito was exceptionally neat about it when he did have to lean over the toilet to vomit. Hajime hooked his white curls back behind his ears and tried not to groan too much. It was unpleasant, obviously, but it was clear Nagito was the one suffering the most right now. He didn’t need Hajime moaning in his ear for him to hurry up - and as the minutes ticked by Hajime found his embarrassment and mild disgust morphing into anxiety. He knew Nagito hadn’t had much to eat these past few days, but the retching and heaving went on well after Nagito had nothing left to bring up. Nagito’s cheeks grew flushed and blotchy, and it wasn’t long before Hajime was the only thing holding him up over the loo, his arms wound around Nagito’s chest. He could feel Nagito’s heart pounding hard against his arms, on and on.

“Come on,” Hajime said eventually. “I’ll get you a bucket or something. You’re not really throwing anything up now anyway. You need to lie down.”

Nagito didn’t respond. He was breathing heavily, his face dripping with sweat. He was gripping the porcelain so hard his knuckles bleached white. Hajime had to pry off his fingers one by one.

“Come on,” he repeated. “I’ll get you something to wipe your face. I know you feel miserable but you can’t stay tethered to the toilet until you die.” He scooped Nagito up into his arms, cradling him as carefully as a newborn. Nagito felt frighteningly hot and damp.

Shaky arms wound around Hajime’s neck and a weak, hoarse voice whispered into his ear. “Death would be welcome at this point…”

“Stop it,” Hajime said firmly. “Don’t go all melodramatic on me. You sound like Gundham.” He carried Nagito to the bed and ran a cloth under the tap. “Here. Shall I do it for you? Then you don’t have to sit up.”

Nagito didn’t react, staring up at the ceiling. He seemed to decide to ignore Hajime at will, and it annoyed him almost as much as Nagito’s self-deprecation.

“Fine, don’t talk to me,” Hajime snapped. “I’ll scrub your face like a baby if you’re going to act like one.” Despite his tone, Hajime ran the damp cloth over Nagito’s skin with unbelievable care and tenderness, going carefully around his eyes and mouth.

Nagito’s eyes flickered over to him. “Well, Nurse Hinata, what’s your diagnosis? Is it curtains for me now? Is this world finally finished with me?”

“No! God, I’ve never known anybody so dramatic,” Hajime said angrily. “It’s just a little stomach flu or something like that. Don’t be so stupid.” He was almost shouting now. It was far easier to get angry than to admit to Nagito that he was scared too, that the knot of panic in his chest was getting tighter by the minute.

Nagito stared at him pityingly. Hajime wanted to slap him and clasp him close all at once.

“I’m going to get Mikan.” He turned to leave, but felt a clammy hand grasp his wrist and hold it with a surprisingly firm, desperate strength. Hajime turned back. “Nagito..?”

Nagito had his head bent, his lips pressed together. He didn’t speak, but he clung to Hajime’s wrist so tightly his fingernails dug in.

“But we need help. I’ll be as fast as I can, I promise. I’ll run all the way,” Hajime tried.

The hand squeezed even tighter.

“Oh fucking hell,” Hajime groaned. “Okay, I won’t leave. But we still need help, so you need to let me go for a second, okay? I promise I won’t go past the door to the cabin.”

A pause. Then Nagito slowly unclamped his fingers and let Hajime break free. He immediately flew to the cabin door, opened it wide and took a deep, long breath inwards. “HEY!” he bellowed, as loud as he could possibly manage. His voice boomed through the still night air. “WE NEED HELP! COME OUT AND HELP US!”

He yelled the same simple lines over and over until a door opened. He’d rather hoped for somebody sensible like Twogami or Mahiru; he ended up with Kazuichi. It made sense really - the sensible people would be asleep at three in the morning, and Kazuichi’s cabin was directly across from Hajime’s.

“What the hell are you screaming about, Hajime?” Kazuichi whined, scrubbing his eyes. His hands were covered with oil and he smeared it across his cheeks. It looked like he was wearing bad war paint. He’d doubtless been hunched over some project he was working on. It usually annoyed Hajime to see his friend neglecting vital things like sleep for his machines, but he was grateful for Souda’s insomnia tonight.

“Kazuichi, come over here, I need your help. Nagito is sick. Like, really sick. I need you to go get Mikan. Please.”

“What? Why can’t you do it?” Kazuichi said indignantly.

“I just… I don’t want to leave him alone, okay?!” Hajime muttered, flustered.

“Awww, Hajime! You loooove him,” Kazuichi cried, spluttering with laughter.

Hajime heard Nagito snort behind him too. He must’ve heard. He felt his cheeks flush crimson. “Kazuichi, will you just fucking go before I throttle you!”

“Stop yelling at me, I’m doing you a favour!” Kazuichi cried, looking wounded - but he ran off in the direction of Mikan’s cabin obediently.

None of them slept much that night. Mikan worked diligently, trying antibiotics and saline drips and ice packs, but she couldn’t get Nagito’s fever down, getting more and more tearfully apologetic as if she was personally blighting him herself. “His fever is dangerously high. We have to find a way of lowering it,” she muttered over and over like a mantra, shaking her head.

Anti-nausea drugs stopped the persistent stomach pains, but Nagito was clearly far from comfortable. He stopped smirking and teasing Hajime, stopped laughing at Kazuichi’s silly jokes. He stopped putting himself down and babbling about how the four Ultimates were so full of kindness and hope to be fussing so much over someone like him. He just stared vacantly up at the ceiling, his eyes foggy and over-bright, his cheeks flushed.

They each toiled in their own way until dawn, when they finally collapsed with exhaustion, squashing up together on Hajime’s bed. They lay there undisturbed until Twogami came looking for them, concerned by the absences at breakfast. He shook Hajime awake, wanting to know why there were four people curled around each other like puppies on his bed, but all Hajime could focus on was Nagito. His head was resting on Hajime’s chest, burning hot through his shirt. The fever was still there. He’d woken up but the nightmare was still going.

It was a mercy that Twogami found them. He sent Mikan off to sleep in her own cabin and made Hajime give a detailed account of the previous night (he let Kazuichi remain asleep at the foot of the bed. Twogami knew he wouldn’t sleep again if he was disturbed, and he wasn’t in the way).

“If he gets any worse, we might have to contact Future Foundation,” Twogami said thoughtfully. “They’ll have more complex medical equipment.”

“We don’t need them,” Hajime snapped. “Especially Makoto.”

He’d thought Kazuichi was still sleeping, but he snorted. “Because Nagito gushes over Makoto. That’s why you don’t like him,” he mumbled sleepily, sitting up.

“Shut up, you hypocrite. Why didn’t you like Gundham before?” Hajime argued.

“I don’t know why you get so fussed, Makoto looks a lot like you.”

“He doesn’t!”

Twogami sighed and crossed his arms like an exasperated parent. “If you two want to bicker you can go do it outside. Nagito needs peace and quiet.” He sounded like a parent too, and the other men quietened immediately and focused on Nagito again.

Nagito didn’t seem to wake up properly. He could open his eyes (though this looked like it was taking an extreme amount of effort) but he didn’t speak or even react very much when somebody spoke to him. He barely blinked when Hajime tried to make him sip water or Kazuichi tapped on his cheek and called his name. Mikan was forced to give him fluids intravenously. When the afternoon brought no improvements, Hajime let Twogami contact Future Foundation for better medicine.

Hajime spent another anxious, sleepless night desperately holding Nagito - though he didn’t feel like Nagito. He hadn’t spoken a single word all day, and though Hajime was trying to be optimistic, he could feel panic pooling in his stomach like oil. Would the medicine get here in time? Would it even work? Nagito was so sick, as sick as he’d been with that awful Despair Disease. Hajime remembered how he’d left Nagito alone then; he wouldn’t make that mistake this time. He’d be there for Nagito - if he was even aware of Hajime at this point. It seemed less and less likely. He wasn’t even opening his eyes now. All Hajime could do was hold him, hold onto this lifeless, unresponsive husk that sucked in shallow breaths far too fast. He wondered if the real Nagito was somewhere deep inside, floating aimlessly, or if the fever had fried his brain completely and obliterated the strange, smart, fascinating person Hajime knew. No, surely he was being stupid. It couldn’t be that bad, right? Unless Mikan and Twogami were just being tactful. Maybe they both expected Nagito to perish and just didn’t want to snuff out Hajime’s hope. He clutched the burning body tighter.

“Don’t you dare die,” he whispered fiercely, cupping Nagito’s cheeks. “I mean it. Not after everything that’s happened. You can’t just give up now. You woke up once before. It took you the longest of everyone, but you still came back. Do it again, because I’ll lose my fucking mind if anyone else dies. You’d better fight this.” His eyes burned. Several tiny droplets of water fell onto Nagito’s face.

Hajime waited. He silently begged Nagito to open his eyes, whisper something coherent, clutch his hand… but nothing happened. Hajime held him all night, terrified of drifting off to sleep in case he woke up and found Nagito stone cold and white and still. He’d found Nagito dead once. Bloody and bound, his eyes bulging with pain… No. It wasn’t real, even if it felt real. It wasn’t real it wasn’t real it wasn’t real.

Morning brought the stronger medicine from the Future Foundation. Twogami explained what it was and how it worked, but Hajime was so fuzzy-headed with lack of sleep and stress that he didn’t take any of it in.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Twogami said doubtfully. “Mikan set up the IV so you don’t have to worry about anything. You could leave one of us here, go get some rest.” He tried for ten minutes to convince him, but Hajime shook his head.

“I can’t leave him. Not until he’s better.”

“You’re so stubborn. At this rate we’ll need to start nursing you along with him,” Twogami muttered, but he left them alone. Mikan left as soon as she could too, apologising even more than usual. Maybe Hajime had been glaring at her? It wasn’t her fault, he just had a splitting headache, but he obviously couldn’t leave to go apologise. Not now.

Time had started to blur. Minutes crawled by like days, but then suddenly an entire hour could disappear in a second. Hajime stayed sitting by Nagito��s side, periodically holding his hand, begging him to squeeze his back. Nagito lay still, but his breathing had evened out considerably since he’d been given this new medication. Hajime tried tickling at his cheeks and smoothing back his hair and Nagito twitched and sighed - tiny reactions, but they were reactions. Hajime hardly dared let himself hope and he definitely didn’t dare let himself sleep, though he was so tired now he had shooting pains behind his eyes.

Later - much later - Kazuichi came back, bringing Hajime toast and coffee. He looked startled by the state he was in. “Good God, Hajime, you look worse than Nagito!”

“Thanks a bunch,” Hajime grumbled. He didn’t touch the toast but took a grateful gulp of coffee.

“Seriously, bro, when did you last sleep? Or eat? Or… shower?” Kazuichi asked, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed.

“That’s rich, coming from you.”

“Have you seriously not slept since he got sick?”

“How can I?” Hajime snapped. “Will you please stop bleating obvious questions at me, Kazuichi. Yes, I’m fucking tired and hungry and I look like shit right now, I know. But I’m trying to make sure my boyfriend doesn’t die right in front of me, so forgive me if I can’t give much of a fuck about anything else! I don’t have the energy to deal with you right now. So can you please just shut up or fuck off!” He was practically screaming by the end of it. Part of him really wanted Kazuichi to yell back, start a real fight; he was so tired and so frustrated and it was so easy to take it out on Kazuichi.

But Souda didn’t argue. He didn’t speak, but his eyes filled up and he ducked his head to hide his quivering lips. Hajime felt a sudden wave of shame wash over his head. He didn’t want to make Kazuichi cry (even if that was pretty easy to do).

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, putting his head in his hands. “Yes, I’m tired. Tired and miserable. It’s not your fault.”

“I know you’re tired. I thought I could stay here. Keep watch over Nagito for a bit. You can sleep next to him,” Kazuichi said, his voice cracking.

Hajime felt worse than ever. “Shit. I’m sorry.” He grabbed Kazuichi and pulled him into a clumsy hug. “You’re a good friend. Better than me.”

“I’m your best friend, right?” Kazuichi asked hopefully. “You’re not just being nice? Am I actually just annoying?”

“You are annoying. But you’re still my best friend.”

Kazuichi grinned. “Okay. And you’ll get some rest now? I think you really need it, Hajime. You’re so grouchy when you’re tired.”

Hajime rather wanted to grumble about that comment, but he didn’t want to prove Souda’s point. “You’ll wake me up if anything changes with Nagito? Even something tiny. Even if you’re not sure it’s a change, can you wake me up to check?”

“Yes. God, you’re worse than Peko with Fuyuhiko. Do you really love him, Hajime?” Kazuichi asked.

“Look, we’re not at a pre-teen sleepover, Kazuichi. I don’t want to sit here with you and gossip about boys,” Hajime said, shuffling close to Nagito. He wasn’t sure - maybe it was wishful thinking - but he thought Nagito’s body was slightly cooler.

“See what I mean. Grumpy,” Kazuichi mumbled.

Hajime didn’t bother to reply this time. He didn’t think he’d manage to get a wink of sleep with all the stress and worry, but he was out like a light almost immediately, so exhausted he didn’t even dream. He wasn’t sure how long Kazuichi kept vigil at their bedside (several hours, he guessed. Kazuichi was a good friend) but he was gone when Hajime opened his eyes. The silvery dawn light was filtering in through the windows, bathing their furniture in a soft glow. Something was burrowing into Hajime’s chest like a small animal.

“Nagito..?” Hajime mumbled, still half-asleep.

“Of course. Who else do you invite into bed, Hajime?”

“Nobody, dumbass.” Then it clicked and Hajime was instantly awake, peering through the dim light. Nagito truly was awake, looking very pale and sleepy and weak, but his eyes were open. Hajime clutched onto him at once, holding him as tight as he dared. Nagito felt as fragile as glass, like he might shatter altogether if Hajime squeezed too hard.

“Careful, you’ll yank my IV out,” Nagito mumbled, but he buried his face into Hajime’s shoulder too. His skin was still clammy, still warm, but not that terrifying burning anymore. Nagito felt clammy all over. “You should wait till I’ve showered before we do all the tearful reunions.”

“Shut up. I need a shower too,” Hajime said hoarsely. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “Fuck, it’s good to see you awake and talking.”

“How long was I out?”

“Several days. How much do you remember?”

Nagito paused. “I remember the night Mikan and Kazuichi came. It gets a bit muddled after that. Someone tried to make me drink quite a few times. Nothing much then. Except…”

“Except?”

“Perhaps I was dreaming. I couldn’t imagine somebody caring so much for someone like-”

“Oh Christ, I haven’t missed that,” Hajime groaned. “Just tell me what you remember!”

“You. Your voice, telling me not to die. Though it sounded more like you were threatening me not to die. And something dripping on me.”

Hajime felt his face flushing. It seemed like years ago that he’d hovered over Nagito and frantically begged him to keep fighting. “Trust you to remember something embarrassing like that.”

“Were you truly crying?”

“What else would I be doing? Drooling on you?”

“You hardly ever cry.”

“I’ve never seen you that sick before,” Hajime admitted. He held Nagito in the hug so he couldn’t see his face. It was somehow easier to blurt it all out in the gloomy morning half-light. “It was… fucking horrible. I didn’t dare sleep. I haven’t felt scared like that since the simulation. I thought I was going to lose you… just like Chiaki.”

There was a long, pregnant pause. Hajime could feel Nagito’s breath tickling against his neck.

“We smell awful,” Nagito finally whispered.

Hajime started spluttering with laughter. “For God’s sake! Can’t you ever be serious?”

“You know I don’t have any idea how to comfort people. But… you shouldn’t worry so much when I get sick. Not just because I’m me, but because my luck usually comes through for me eventually. It hasn’t let me die yet. Well, except in the simulation.”

“Shut up. Don’t talk about that,” Hajime said quickly. “Izuru has luck too. So that should mean I’m stuck with you forever.”

He rather expected Nagito to shoot back with some sort of self-deprecating response like “poor you” but Nagito was silent for a while. He was practically in Hajime’s lap now, his skinny legs wound around Hajime’s waist.

“Thank you.”

“Hm?” The words were so quiet Hajime barely heard.

“Thank you for taking care of me. Nobody has ever done that before,” Nagito said, his voice as light and delicate as the dawn. He still found it so hard to accept things like this. He’d spent so many years building walls around him and then Hajime had come along and blasted through them in an instant. Nagito felt raw and vulnerable and exposed - but there was a warm feeling in his stomach too, new and unfamiliar.

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” Hajime promised.

“You’ll probably have to. My immune system is awful.”

“Then I will. Needing things isn’t bad, Nagito. You’re not meant to do things all alone.”

“The thing we need right now is a wash.”

“Yes. We’d better get that over with first,” Hajime agreed - but despite their words they both remained in their embrace, clinging to each other with desperate strength, long after that sun had risen properly.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love and Medicine ~ 3

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 4,600ish

Summary: The beginning of your intern year continues.

Warnings: man parts (lol) and talk about rape

You really tried your best, but you couldn’t get the image of a naked Dr. Steve Rogers on the floor of your living room out of your head. You had decided one night that, to help get the image out of your head, you needed roommates. The house that you had inherited was big enough and the longer you lived there, the lonelier it became. So, you created a ‘roommates wanted’ sign and posted it in the locker room before your shift.

You had several interns come up to you explaining why they would be the perfect roommate for you within the first few hours of your shift. It was annoying and you turned every single one of them down, being very particular about who was going to live with you.

“Why do you put up posters for roommates if you don’t want roommates?” Val asked as you, her, and Scott walked down a corridor.

“I do want roommates,” you defended. 

“And why can’t we be those roommates?” Scott wondered

“We’re just together a hundred hours a week, you want to live together too?”

“No,” Natasha responded, walking up to the group. “Ooh, you’re bringing bribes now?” She motioned to the cup of coffee in your hand.

“I need a place to live,” Scott rambled. “My mom irons my scrubs. I have to get out of there.”

“It’s not a bride,” you told Natasha before turning to Scott. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“But I can’t put down last, first, and deposit,” Scott argued.

“It’s totally a bride,” Natasha scoffed.

“I can cook,” Val added. “And I can clean.”

“No,” you stated. “I just want two total strangers who I don't have to talk to, or be nice to, and it's not a bribe, it's a mocha latte.”

“Clint, you’re running the code team,” Gamora ordered as you all walked up to her. “Y/N, take the trauma patients, Natasha, deliver the weekend labs to patients, Val, you’re on sutures, and Scott, you’re on scut.”

“Dr. Gamora,” you called. “I was hoping to assist you in the OR today, maybe do a minor procedure? I think I'm ready. Mocha latte?” You held the cup out for her.

“If she gets to cut, I want to cut too,” Natasha added.

“Yeah, me too,” Val joined in.

“I wouldn’t mind another shot,” Scott shrugged.

“And if everybody else gets one, then I do too!” Clint said.

“Stop talking,” Gamora demanded. You all fell silent. “Every intern wants to perform their first surgery, that's not your job. Do you know what your job is? To make your resident happy. Do I look happy? No. Why? Because my interns are whining. You know what will make me look happy? Having the code team staffed, having the trauma patients taken care of, having the weekend labs delivered, and having someone down in the Pit, doing the sutures.” She swiped the mocha latte from your hand. “No one holds a scalpel until I'm so happy I'm Mary freakin' Poppins.”

“Mocha latte my ass,” Natasha grumbled.

“Why’re y’all still standing there? Move!”

Everyone moved, you heading to the elevator with a few files. You paused in your steps when you noticed who was waiting at the elevator. Dr. Steve Rogers. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, before making your way to stand and wait next to him. When he noticed you, he tried to hide the pleasant smile that wanted to take over his face.

“New York has ferry boats,” he stated.

“Yes,” you replied, a bit confused.

“I didn’t remember that. I grew up here then left, now I’ve been living here for six weeks, and I didn’t remember there were ferry boats.”

“Well, Manhattan is an island.”

“Hence the ferry boats.” The elevator arrived and the two of you stepped onto it. “Now I have to like it here. I wasn’t planning on liking it here. I just moved here from the country. I’m supposed to not like big cities like Manhattan. But I have a thing for ferry boats.”

The elevators doors closed, leaving them alone in the elevator. He was leaning against the wall behind you as you stood in the middle, holding the files to your body. You hoped that he couldn’t hear your heart pounding in your chest. 

“I’m not going out with you,” you blurted. You don’t know if you were trying to tell him that or if you were trying to convince yourself that you weren’t interested.

“Did I ask you to go out with me?” He questioned. He paused before asking the next, “Do you want to go out with me?”

“I'm not dating you. And I'm definitely not sleeping with you again. You're my boss.”

“I'm your boss's boss.”

“You're my teacher. And my teacher's teacher. And you're my teacher.”

“I'm your sister, I'm your daughter,” he joked.

“You're sexually harassing me.”

“I'm riding an elevator.” He stepped towards you, you could practically feel him breathing down your neck. You spun around to face him.

“Look, I'm drawing a line. The line is drawn. There's a big line.”

“So, this line. Is it imaginary, or do I need to get you a marker?”

You stared at him for a second, basking in all his attractiveness. It didn’t take you very long to go ‘screw it’ and drop the files you were holding and kiss him. Steve was a tad surprised but caught on quickly. When the elevator dinged, you quickly crouched down to pick up the files and rushed out of the elevator. Steve stood there, looking amused.

“We’ll talk later?” He called after you. You ignored him and he chuckled to himself. “Definitely, later.”

~~~

In between taking care of patients, you had interns begging you to let them be your roommate. You were slowly regretting the idea of roommates the longer the day went on. Thankfully, your pager rang and requested you down in the ER.

“You the surgeon?” A nurse asked as you entered the room.

“Yes,” you replied.

“We’ve got a rape victim. 21-year-old female found down at the park, status: post-trauma, she came in with a GCS of 6, BP 80 over 60, head trauma, unequal breath sounds, right pupil is dilated, and she's ready for x-ray. You ready to roll?” You were listening but also focused on the girl’s shoes. They were the same ones you had worn to work. “Hey!”

“Uh, sorry,” you stumbled. “Yeah. Call it in to clear CT, let them know I'm coming, load up the portable monitor, call respiratory for a ventilator, I'll get x-rays while I'm down there.”

You quickly learned that the girls name was Mallory and, just by you reading the scans alone, she would be needing surgery. Dr. Banner and Dr. Rogers were both called in while you were allowed to watch and hopefully assist.

“She’s going to spend a hell of a lot of time in recovery and rehab,” Dr. Rogers stated.

“If she survives,” Dr. Banner added.

“What is she, like, 5'2", a hundred pounds, she's still breathing after what this guy did to her? If they catch the guy, they should castrate him.”

“See how shredded her hands are? She tried to fight back.”

“Tried to?” Dr. Stark repeated, walking into the room. “Rape kit came back negative. She kicked his ass.”

“So, we have a warrior amount us, huh?” Rogers questioned. 

“Hell yeah we do! I just came in to tell you about the rape kit and to see if you needed me anytime soon. Can’t have the poor girl be reminded of the incident with so many scars.”

“Mallory,” you interrupted. “Her—her name is Mallory.”

“Mallory,” Rogers and Stark repeated. 

“I think I may have found the cause of our rupture,” Banner said, pulling out a piece of flesh. “What is this?” He held it up. “Does anyone know what this is?”

“Oh my gosh,” you gasped, with Dr. Stark snickering from the sidelines.

“What? Spit it out, L/N.”

“She bit it off.”

“Bit off what?”

“That’s his…” You swallowed. “His penis.” Shocked groans filled the OR. “She bit off his penis.”

“Told you she kicked his ass!” Stark exclaimed as Banner couldn’t toss the piece of flesh into the try fast enough. 

~~~

After the surgery, the penis was placed in a small cooler. You were tasked to bring it to Fury for the police. You knocked at the door of his office, where an older woman is in there.

“Hi, is the chief in?” You asked.

“He’s on his way,” she responded. “Is that it?”

“Can I see it?” You looked down at the box and then up again. “No, forget I asked.”

“Y/N, it’s good to see you,” Fury greeted as he entered, going to his desk.

“You too, sir,” you responded with a nod. “Listen, so they said to bring this to you,” you lifted up the cooler. “So…?”

“Yes, for the police,” Fury responded.

“Right.”

“When did the police say they'll come?” Fury asked his assistant.

“You know how slow they are,” she answered. “So, she’d better take it with her.”

“What?” You questioned.

“You have to take it with you.”

“Chain of custody rules,” Fury explained. “All medical matter in a rape must stay with the person who collected it, until it's placed in police custody.”

“You collected the specimen, so you have custody.”

“Custody of a penis…” You said.

“Yes,” Fury answered. “Until the cops come for it.”

“Okay. Well, what am I supposed to do with the penis?”

Fury simply shrugged before excusing you. You huffed, leaving the office with the cooler. You wandered the halls until you saw Clint working at a desk. You walked over, setting the cooler down and causing Clint to look up at you.

“What’s that?” He pointed to the cooler as he asked.

“Don’t ask, you don’t want to know,” you responded.

“I do want to know. Really.”

“You really want to know?” Clint nodded. “It’s a severed penis.”

“Okay… I didn’t really want to know.”

“Told you.”

“I didn’t know why I have to be the one who gets hugged,” Natasha complained to Peter as they walked up.

“Because, I don’t do that,” Peter replied. “Besides, you're the ovarian sister here.”

“Did you just call me an ovarian sis— an ovarian— since when has the possession of ovaries become an insult?”

“Y/N’s carrying a penis around in a jar,” Clint interrupted.

“Oh, from the rape surgery?” Natasha looked around.

“Yeah,” you answered. “And it’s not a jar, it’s a cooler.”

“Talk about taking a bite out of crime.” Natasha chuckled as she left.

You were suddenly lost in your head, unable to stop thinking about Mallory’s shoes. They were the same as yours. You had worn them to work today, which was weird. You never really wear them.

“You okay?” Clint asked.

“Yeah… it’s just… Mallory's shoes. The rape victim, Mallory, her shoes. I have the same ones. In my locker. And I normally never wear them, because they're not comfortable, but today I did, and she was wearing the same shoes, and it's just… stupid, and I'm tired, and forget it.”

“You know what you need?” Clint stared at you.

“No. It’s stick and twisted. We said last time was the last time.” Clint looked away. “You’ve been doing it without me?”

“Nancy Reagan lied. You can't just say no. Come on.”

“Do you know what would happen if anyone knew?”

“I'm doing it. You can come with me… or you can stay here, and be miserable.”

“Fine,” you tried to hold back a smile as you followed Clint. 

He led you to the nursery, where you two stood at the window and watched the babies. You laughed as Clint did some baby talk.

“You are such a woman,” you laughed.

Clint’s pager beeped before he could retorted. “It’s a code,” he sighed. “I gotta go.” 

He left, leaving you to sigh as you watched the babies.

“You are really cute,” you whispered as you looked at them.

As you watched them, you noticed at one of the babies was struggling. His face was slowly turning blue. You quickly entered the nursery, setting the cooler to the side before checking the babies chart. Then you sided your stethoscope to check on the babies heart.

“What are you doing in here?” A Peds Intern asked, walking into the room.

“There were no tests ordered,” you answered. “And the baby has a murmur.”

“I know.”

“He turned blue.”

“You're surgery, you're not authorized to be in here. Do you know how much trouble you can get into for this?”

“Are you going to do any tests?”

“It's a benign systolic ejection murmur. It goes away with age.”

“So you're not going to do any tests.”

“He's not your patient, he's not even on your service.”

“Are you sure it’s benign?”

“I'm a doctor too, you know. You should get out of here.”

Deciding you’d rather not get in trouble, you grabbed the cooler and left. You were stopped along your wandering by more interns who wanted to room with you. After having listened to three of them, you walked away, still unimpressed, and went to Mallory’s room. You were looking at her through the window when Dr. Rogers came up.

“Y/N,” he greeted. “I've called every hospital in the county. Sooner or later, the guy that did this is going to seek medical attention, and when he does, that penis you're carrying around is going to nail him.”

“Where is her family?” You asked.

“Doesn’t have any.”

“No siblings?”

“No. Both parents are dead. She just moved to New York three weeks ago. Welcome to the city.” When you didn’t give a response he turned to look at you. You were lost in your thoughts. “Y/N, you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I just… I just have to do something. I have to go.”

“Right. I’m going to sit with her.”

You nodded before rushing away to find Dr. Banner.

“Dr. Banner?” You called when you saw him.

“Mmm?” He hummed, turning to face you.

“There's a baby up in peds, I saw him have a tet spell, and I think I hear a murmur.”

“Mmm. Did peds call us for a consult?”

“Actually, no. They’re not doing anything about it—“

“So you want me to what?”

“If you could just go up and look at him—“

“Mm-hmm, not without a Peds consult.”

“Yeah, but—“

“I’m a busy man, L/N, and there are rules. Look, it’s not like I’m the Chief or something.”

Then he stocked off, leaving you frustrated. 

“Stupid rules.”

~~~

Eventually, you found a spot in the lobby to sit. Just waiting for the cops to show up.

“What’re you doing down here?” Natasha asked when she came across you.

“Just sitting here with my penis,” you responded. “What about you?”

“Hiding from Peter.” She sat beside you.

“I kissed Steve.”

“You kissed Steve.”

“In the elevator.”

“Oh, you kissed him in the elevator.”

“I was having a bad day. I am having a bad day.”

“Oh, so this is what you do on your bad days. Make out with Captain McDreamy.” You both stood up.

“Well, that, and you know, carrying around a penis just makes everything seem so shiny and happy.”

“Mmm. Clint said Mallory was wearing your shoes.”

“Yeah. It’s weird, right?”

“I think it’s weird that you care.”

“I think it’s weird.”

From outside, a car swerves. You and Natasha could hear it from inside, causing you to rush out. A man staggered out of the car, clothes soaked in blood, mainly around his crotch. He collapses. Other doctors and nurses followed you out and immediately began checking on him. You immediately knew that the guy was the owner of the penis you had been carrying around all day. The other doctors brought him into a trauma room. You followed, quickly calling security.

“So, what’ve we got?” Gamora asked as she entered.

“Take a look,” you responded.

“What?” She leaned closer. “Alright, let’s get him to OR 1. Y/N, you call the Chief and let him know we got the rapist.”

~~~

You and Natasha were in the OR with Gamora and Stark. They were working on the rapist.

“I saw Mallory,” you said, eyes on the operating table. “You can’t believe the beating that she took. And then to see this…”

“It's like that old saying, you should see the other guy,” Natasha said.

“Okay, kiddos, why are we not attempting to reattach the severed penis?” Dr. Stark asked.

“Teeth don’t slice, they tear. You can only reattach with a clean cut. If she wanted to slice him off with a knife…”

“Besides,” you continued for Natasha, “the digestive juices didn't leave much of the flesh to work with.”

“Right,” Gamora agreed, “so what do we do?”

“Sew him up minus a large part of the family jewels,” Natasha answered.

“And his outlook?”

“He'll be urinating out of a bag for a very, very long time,” Natasha added.

“Oh, too bad.”

“Shame.”

“I can’t imagine not having sex,” Stark commented. “I think that I would just end my life if I couldn’t do a round every day.” Everyone looked at him. “What? It shouldn’t be that surprising.”

“No wonder, Dr. Potts keeps turning you down,” Gamora said.

“I’ll get her one day. Just you wait. I’m going to marry that woman if it’s the last thing I do.”

~~~

You met with the police after the surgery where they told you that they couldn’t send their crime scene guy down for hours. Annoyed, you searched for your intern friends. You found them in the empty corridor, sitting on the beds.

“So, the police say that they can’t send down the crack crime scene guy for hours,” you told them as you entered, sitting down beside Natasha. “So I have to spend the night with a penis. Peter, don’t say it.”

“Ahh, it was too easy anyway,” Peter responded.

“Who here feels like they have no idea what they’re doing?” Scott asked. Everyone of you, but Peter, raised a hand.

“I mean, are we supposed to be learning something?” Clint wondered. “Because I don’t feel like I’m learning anything.”

“Except how not to sleep,” Val added.

“It’s like there’s this wall,” Natasha said, “and the attending and the residents are over there, being surgeons, and we’re over here, being—“

“Suturing, code running, lab delivering penis-minders,” you grumbled.

“I hate being an intern,” Peter stated.

Gamora walked into the hallway, looking expectant. All of you interns quickly got up and took your leave. All the others had things to do, so you found yourself in front of the babies again. As you looked at the baby you’re so worried about, you noticed the parents. Taking a deep breath, you decided to go up to them.

“Hi,” you greeted with a soft smile.

“Hi,” the mother greeted back.

“Is he yours?” You nodded to the baby.

“Yeah,” the mother smiled.

“He’s adorable… Have you noticed anything that would concern you?”

“No,” the father responded. “Have you?”

“Earlier today I noticed him turning blue.”

“Blue?” The mother repeated.

“Yes. I checked him and I heard a murmur.”

“We were told that the murmur was benign,” the father stated.

“I don’t think it is. I think—“

“You are so out of line,” the Peds Intern interrupted.

“She says the murmur might not be benign,” the father said.

“I think we should do an echo, to check,” you suggested.

“This is your career,” the intern said, going to get her resident.

“There’s really no reason to get alarmed,” you told the parents.

“What’s the problem?” The resident asked, coming back with the intern.

“If our baby is sick, we want him treated,” the mother ordered. “Now.”

“Who said your baby was sick?”

“Her,” the Peds Intern answered, pointing to you. “The surgical intern who has no business on our service.”

“Who authorized you being here?”

“I was just,” you began, “actually—“

“I did,” Dr. Banner came up from behind you. “Could you excuse us for a second?” Dr. Banner took the resident to the side, but not far enough for you to not hear. “Are you messing with my intern, Dr. Keener?”

“No, sir,” the resident responded.

Dr. Banner turned back to you and the other intern. “Give me the chart.”

“There’s nothing wrong with him,” the intern said, giving up the chart, “I checked.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You can guarantee that he is fine, you are 100% sure.”

The intern looked hesitant.

“How sure are you?” The resident questioned.

“I don’t know,” the intern responded. “75%.”

“Not good enough,” Banner said. “He’s my patient now. That okay with you, Dr. K?”

“Absolutely,” the resident responded.

“He can take our patient?” The intern asked.

“He’s an attending.”

“Which means I can do whatever I want,” Banner replied before heading to the parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, I’m Dr. Banner, head of cardio. We’re going to run some tests and give you an answer within the hour. Excuse me.” He turned to you. “L/N.” He motioned for you to follow, which you quickly did. “I want an EKG, a chest x-ray, and an ECHO. I don’t have all day.”

“You’re a busy man.”

“I’m a busy man.”

You quickly ordered the tests then wandered the hospital more, since you weren’t allowed to do anything while you were watching the penis. After a little while, you found Dr. Banner again.

“Well?” You asked as you walked up to him.

“It’s a birth defect,” Dr. Banner replied. “Tetrology affirmed lower pulmonary artresia. You were right. I'm booking the OR for tomorrow.”

“Thank you for backing me up on this.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait, whoa. You were right. But if you ever pull a stunt like that again...going to the parents behind a doctor's back? Trying to steal a patient from another service? I will make your residency year hell on earth.”

He walked off and you smiled slightly to yourself. You made your way back to the babies, where you watched, from the other side of the window, Banner talk to the parents.

“His heart surgery is scheduled for the morning,” the Peds Intern told you. “I really did think I was right, you know.”

“I know. We almost never are. We're interns,” you responded. “We're not supposed to be right. And when we are, it's completely shocking.”

“Are you— I mean, being an intern, do you feel…”

“Terrified. 100% of the time.”

“Good, it’s not just me.”

“No.”

You decided, after finishing up with the babies, to go check on Mallory. When you arrived, you realized that Steve was still in there.

“How is she?” You asked, standing in the doorway.

“No change,” Steve answered with a sigh.

“Have you been here all night?”

“Mm-hmm. Yup… If I was in a comma, I’d want someone to be here. I know I would have people there. Having no one? Can’t imagine that.”

“I can.”

“Don’t you have any family?”

“I do. Just… I don’t think they’d come.”

Steve watched you carefully before speaking again. “So… we’re kissing but we’re not dating?”

��I knew that was going to come up.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I like the kissing. I’m all for the kissing. More kissing, I say.”

“I have no idea what that was about.”

“Is it going to happen again? Because if it is, I need to bring breath mints. Put a condom in my wallet.”

“Shut up now.” Steve laughed. “There was this baby up in the nursery. He's brand new. No one's neglected him or damaged him yet. How do we get from there to here? She's wearing my shoes and someone's beat the crap out of her, and she's got nobody.”

Suddenly, Mallory’s machine’s began beeping. You quickly hit an alarm on the wall.

“Her ICP’s double, get an OR!” Steve yelled. “Put her in for a craniotomy!”

~~~

You waited outside the OR, still watching over the stupid penis, while Steve operated on Mallory. You were nervous for her and felt bad that no one was there for her. Once the surgery was over, Steve exited the OR, walking past you. When he noticed you were there, he turned back.

“Hey,” he greeted. “I, uh, I had to leave her skull flap off, till the pressure in her brain goes down.”

“She’s not going to make it, is she?” You asked.

“She’s going to be fine.”

“If she ever wakes up.”

Steve nodded. “If she ever wakes up.” You nodded, biting your lip as you looked away. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Your pager went off. You looked down to see it was the Chief. “I’ve gotta go. That’s the Chief. Maybe I can finally get rid of this thing.” You lifted the cooler slightly.

“Yeah,” Steve chuckled. “Good luck.”

~~~

“So here is where you put the signature, down here, the initials,” Fury’s assistant pointed out on a paper.

“Mmm,” you hummed with a nod, taking the paper and pen from her. “Okay.”

“It just says that the penis was never out of your sight.”

“Of course.” You sighed and handed over the paper. “There you go. One penis.” You glanced at the clock and realized that it was time for the baby’s surgery. “Am I all done here? I kinda want to go watch a surgery.”

“Sure.”

You tried to rush, but not rush, to the OR Dr. Banner was working in. When you arrived, you found a spot in the back.

“We'll be using a medium approach for a trans-ventricular repair with a right ventriculostomy,” Banner explained. “Let’s open him up. L/N!” He looked around for you.

“Yes, sir?” You replied.

“Go scrub in. When we've finished cracking the baby's chest, I'll let you hold the clamp.”

“Seriously?” You tried to contain your excitement.

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

You rushed to scrubbed in. And, let’s just say, holding onto that clamp was a rush and just what you needed to help brighten your shift. After that, you went to watch the babies, Val, Clint, and Scott all joining you.

You let out a sigh. “Okay, fine,” you relented. “You guys can move into the house.”

“Yes! Yes!” The guys shouted.

“I can’t believe you caved!” Val laughed.

“I can’t believe it either,” you mumbled, trying to hide the smile.

~~~

You changed out of your scrubs and stared at the shoes in your locker. You couldn’t stop thinking about how weird it was that you had decided to wear those shoes today. With determination, you shut the locker on your shoes and went to the elevator. Steve was there waiting.

“So… it’s intense…” he started. “This thing I have for, ah, ferry boats… I mean.”

You smiled at him. “I’m so taking the stairs this time.” You walked off.

“No self-control,” he called after you. “It’s sad. Really.” He chuckled to himself as you continued to walk away. “Wow… this is so—“

“Weird. It’s weird,” Dr. Stark came up, ready to go too. “Like I said before, that look is bad news. And you—“

“Didn’t I already tell you to shut it Tony?”

“Fine.” Tony held his hands up. “But, seriously, don’t come crying to me when it all blows up in your face.”

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2​​. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

[uwuwriting]

Maybe pregnant hcs for Todoroki, Iida, Shinsou and Amajiki???💓💓💓💓💓

-Ohoho!!!! This right here just melts my hurt. Even thinking about it makes me weak.Plus a little heads up, everyone is having daughters cause I’m weak to the knees with the thought of these four and their babygirls so be prepared. Hope I don’t disappoint.💖💖💖

*All characters are aged up so around the ages of 20-25 and up*

Todoroki Shouto

-You and Shouto have been together since your second year in UA.

-You got married when you both got well acquainted with the hero life and now live a happy , yet busy, life in an apartment near his mom’s house. 

-We know that this boy would want his family to be close to him and the fact that you get along with everyone fills his heart with so much love. 

-You two never really talked about children.

-Maybe a few suggestions of having a child in the future but nothing serious.

-Que the morning sickness. 

-Shouto was really worried about you, I mean look at you.

-You’re emptying your guts in the toilet every single morning. 

-You can’t eat most foods that you used to like and have a weird craving for tuna yogurt?!

-He doesn’t want to leave the house, he even convinced you to take some days off and try to relax.

-Give your body rest.

-He promised to get some days off himself to take care of you.

-You had your suspicions, tbh.

-You just didn’t tell him.

-Whether that was to not get his hopes up or to post pone the heartbreak you didn’t really know.

-So what if you were mildly panicking over the fact that the 5 pregnancy tests you just took were all positive. 

-It was the first day of your mini ‘vacation’ and thankfully Shouto had been called in today.

-Because you’re panicking and legit losing your shit over this, you call....Rei.

-Okay maybe it wasn’t the best course of action considering you were on the verge of cardiac arrest, but what can you do.

-You asked her if she was home and if you could stop by.

-Of course she said yes, delighted to see you and mentioned that Fuyumi was also going to stop by in around an hour.

-You made your way to her house, arriving just as Fuyumi was pulling into the drive way.

-After greeting each other and going inside, you took your seats in the living room and waited for Rei to make some tea.

-Fuyumi was going on and on about what the kids at the kindergarten were doing and how cute some of them were being. 

-Neither of the Todoroki women had missed your puffy eyes or how your smile would constantly waver, but they decided to let you tell them on your own accord. 

-Once Rei joined you in the living room, they both turned to you.

- “So how have you been Y/n, dear?” Rei said watching you really closely. 

-You looked down, feeling hot tears starting to form in your eyes and your throat tightening painfully. 

-Fuyumi moved closer to you while Rei draped an arm around your shoulders which were shacking at the moment. 

- “I-I’m p-pregnant.” it was barely a whisper, but they heard it alright.

-Mom mode activated 2x.

-They reassured you that everything was going to be fine and how lucky you are.

-They repeatedly said how excited Shouto will be and what of a push over of a dad he would become.

-After 4 long hours of baby talk, you returned home, collapsing on the sofa before passing out for a good 3 hour nap.

-When you woke up, Shouto was home and sitting next to you weaving his fingers absentmindedly through your hair. 

- “Hey there sleepyhead.”

-How could his voice be so soft!?!?

-You buried your face into the blanket, which really confused him, I mean...what did he do?

- “We have a problem...” pause....awkward silence.... “I’m pregnant.”

-*Windows noises*

-After the mild stroke, he lifted you up so you were looking at him and just stared at you. 

-Those seconds that he just looked at you felt like eternity.  

-The torture ended however, when he lowered his head to your stomach and lifting your shirt, placed a small kiss right under your belly button.

- “Hey there, snowflake. Nice to meet you.”

-And with that, 9 exhausting months started full of mood swings, weird cravings, back rubs and a never ending list of baby names.

-You two learned you were having twins on your fifth appointment, but you decided to keep the gender a surprise. 

-On a cold January night your two girls were brought into the world and it was one of the few times you had seen Endeavour and Natsuo in the same room bawling their eyes out. 

-Your white haired baby was named Rei *after her grandmother* while your mixed red and h/c babygirl Ren. 

-When Shouto held them for the first time, you thought he was going to have a mental breakdown.

-He’s a total push over and your girls are daddy’s girls to the core.

-He’s the best dad they could ask for.

Iida Tenya

-You and Tenya have been married for 6 years now and have been trying endlessly for a baby.

-You both agreed that you were ready for the responsibility and that having a little Tenya running around the house sounded like a great idea.

-Saying that you were exhausted form the attempts was an understatement.

-Tenya had incredible stamina and even more libido, so you can safely assume that during the week long process of baby making you couldn’t walk straight.

-However, your little shenanigans stopped when your doctor delivered you the news.

-You had been hit by a blood related quirk while dealing with a villain and had to get a check up afterwards.

-You were given a scolding the moment you saw your doctor because why aren’t you in desk duty you RASCAL!?

-You were confused beyond belief and it was written all over your face.

- “You don’t know do you?” 

-Le sigh.

- “Mrs. Iida I’m happy to announce you that you’re expecting, so that means you are to be put in desk duty for the next 4 months or else I’m making sure you don’t leave the house for a good 9 months.”

-You. Were. Ecstatic. 

-You ran to Tenya’s agency, bringing down the damned door to his office giving the man a heart attack.

- “Y/n what’s-”

- “I’M PREGNANT!” 

-Que ecstatic air chopping. 

-Tenya went into full dad mode during those 9 months. 

-Buttt he’s also kinda nervous.

-Nervous like Tamaki in a crowd level nervous.

-You get the image.

-You have anything you want whenever you want it.

-The nursery is done the moment you find out you are having a gilr.

-Unlike Todoroki he isn’t patient enough to keep the gender a secret.

-When the day arrives, you’re just chilling outside with him when you nonchalantly blurt out ‘my waters broke’.

-....oh...oH.....OHSHIIIIIIIT.

- “WHY ARE YOU SO CALM?! GET UP! ARE YOU IN PAIN? CAN YOU WALK!?”

-This goes on until you are screaming and crushing his hand in the delivery room.

-Your little girl is born and she’s a carbon copy of Tenya.

-Same colored hair and eyes.

-The face structure looks like you.

-She has your nose and mouth, along with your eyebrows but apart from that she’s a mini genderbend Tenya.

-Because she was born early in the morning you decided to change her name and so little Asami Tenya was officially a part of this world.

-Tenya cried.

-You cried.

-Asami cried.

-You were one happy crying family.

Shinsou Hitoshi

-You and Hitoshi have been together for two years now, but you haven’t put a ring on it.

-Sure you live together and act like a married couple already but you’re not Mrs.Shinsou.....yet.

-You have been feeling strange for days now and your period was late which never happens.

-You are panicking but unlike Shouto you two aren’t married.

-He can leave with almost no complications.

-You were his girlfriend not his wife.

-The pregnancy tests you had taken were mocking you from the bathroom sink and your poor hormone ridden mind couldn’t handle the stress.

-You cried a river until you heard keys jiggling and HItoshi’s iconic ‘Kitten, I’m home!’

-You couldn’t face him like this.

-In a haste you shoved the tests into the laundry basket along with their packages and covered them with some sheets. 

-Fixing your hair and washing your face, you straightened and walked out the door.

-After greeting Hitoshi with a kiss you calmly told him to go get ready while you made him something to eat.

-Your mind was running laps thinking how you could tell him or how you could solve your little problem as quietly as possible.

-That is until he walked in holding what seemed to be a box.

-A pregnancy test box.

-HOW CAN YOU BE BLIND?

- “Y/n, what’s this?”pause “Are you..?”

-Anddd more crying.

-You sobbed about how sorry you were and how you couldn’t explain how it happened.

-Both of you were so careful, how did this happen???

-After a good 15 minutes of you bawling your eyes out on the kitchen floor while Hitoshi was trying to calm you down, you finally stopped at the sound of his chuckle. 

- “Well, damn kitten, your surprise definitely beat mine.”

-Then he pulled a small velvet box from his pocket and watched you closely.

-Now you are Mrs.Shinsou.

-These 9 months weren’t as bad as you would expect.

-Hitoshi was really good at giving you everything you wanted and during the whole pregnancy you didn’t lift a finger.

-One October night your waters broke and you found yourself in a long procedure of bringing your child into the world. 

-Hitoshi was a wreck and had called Aizawa for emotional support who called Hizashi who called Midnight.

-Once you were finished, Hitoshi rushed into your room and found you utterly exhausted.

-He was the first to hold your baby and you have never seen him cry this much in your life. 

- “Hello my little Kei.”

-Kei Shinsou was a happy little girl with an amazing father by her side.

Amajiki Tamaki

-Ah love.

-Something Tamaki found during high school and held onto it ever since. 

-Now a well known pro hero, Suneater was more than happy with his life with you.

-He always wanted a little something more but never expressed it. 

-He loved the idea of having a mini you running around the living room or waking him up in the morning with little squeals and kisses.

-He loved you to the moon and back, more than life itself but having a kid with you sparked a whole new sensation in him.

-So he tried to be sly about it.

-Forgetting the condoms or to pull out.

-You not being able to find your pills.

-A whole lot of fun. 

-You were newly weds and your libidos were high af and with the prospect of children on the table Tamaki became 10x more driven and horny.

-So you weren’t all that surprised when your doctor gave you the news. 

-You had gone for a plain old check up when he came into the room with a bright smile on his face and congratulations falling like a waterfall from his mouth. 

-Once back home you put your plan in motion. 

-You had a feeling Tamaki was trying to knock you up for some time now.

-He couldn’t forget to pull out every time like come on.

-But you were fine with it since you too wanted a kid with him.

-You just would’ve liked a little heads up first.

-You made your little bun and put it in the oven.

-And waited.

-And waited.

-And waited.

-Until finally Tamaki walked through the door,  a smile gracing his features as he made his way to you.

- “Hey bunny.”

-Giving him a quick peck you told him to check the oven real quick to make sure the food was all good.

-He obliged, walking to the kitchen and seeing the sole bun sitting in the oven.

-He was beyond confused on why you would only make one bun in the oven and not more, I mean you are two peop- ohhhh.

-OH.

-He did it. 

-He let the news settle in before going back to you.

- “Are you sure?” nod “100% sure?” another nod.

-At that he fell to his knees in front of you, attacking your stomach with kisses and I love yous.

-To whom they were directed you couldn’t actually tell but you were happy either way.

-Calls the baby butterfly.

-Makes the whole nursery along with Mirio who is ecstatic.

-Butterfly themed baby room.

-Expect many back and belly rubs along with Tamaki coming home early because Fatgum cannot allow him to stay at work when he’s preparing for a baby.

-When your waters break you are buying some onesies with small octopuses on them.

-You have never been taken to the hospital so fast in your whole hero career. 

-After many painful and stressful hours, your baby girl is born and she’s stunning.

-She has Tama’s ears and hair but your eyes and nose. 

-She’s a perfect mix. 

-The Big 3 cry as a team.

-When she’s given to him, Tamaki just cry laughs at how gorgeous she’s.

-Many thank yous are exchanged.

- Cho Amajiki.

-Tamaki cannot stop repeating the name even after they have taken her away.

-He curls on the chair next to you, holding your hand the whole night, falling into a deep sleep, imaging his new life with his little butterfly. 

[lunarreaper-ut]

How exactly did killer loose his arm? Was it cuz he got distracted or was it tactic to prevent something even worse?? ;-; how did nightmate take that sight? How did he get the idea to give killer some of his magic to make an artificial arm for him, did he knew it would work? Was it a hard or painful process for any of them?? (God i love the idea of killer getting a shadow arm from nm >w< makes him even cooler! Kyaaaaa~ still a sad thing tho uwu)

Was nightmare ever in the mood/need/curious to ask killer sing somehing (for him~)??

What ships will happen in kingdomverse??

Alsoo... Uhh dont know if thats an OK question but can they get pregnant? I wanna know if babybones are an possibility in the future? qwq

Ah yes... the Incident.

Allow me to explain the unfortunate event in which Killer almost failed at his job.

(This is gonna be heckin, and I mean HECKIN long. We got some worldbuilding ahead!)

How did Killer lose his arm?

This event happened several years after Killer began his duties as Royal Guard. Dream had already told Nightmare he no longer needed a Royal Guard, and Killer already expressed his wish to stay as one. Nightmare and Killer were frequently having their nightly visits, and things were going well.

One night, however, after Killer had returned to his room and the two had settled in for bed, something happened.

Now I haven't mentioned this before, mainly cause your questions have thankfully not uncovered it >w< During Nightmare's reign, there was much despair in the Kingdom. Negativity brings out the worst in people, as we're all aware I'm sure, and it's no wonder that some people would be driven mad by the results of Nightmare's actions.

Some people began to believe that if they worshipped Nightmare, they would be spared from his wrath and from the destruction his crafted creatures wrought. These people formed a cult dedicated to Nightmare, praising his actions and renouncing their loyalty to the Sun King. They called themselves The Corrupted.

Cults are a very hard thing to get rid of, especially if you weren't aware they existed. When Dream returned and cast Nightmare into the Void, the Corrupted hid themselves in the shadows, vowing to return only once their "True King" returns as well.

The issue arose when Nightmare did return from the Void. Nightmare, throughout his reign, was most often seen as his "transformed" self, and it was that self that The Corrupted worshipped, not Nightmare.

The Corrupted believed that they could bring back the "True King", and to do so they needed to remove the "Imposter King". The cult spent time learning the routines of the castle in order to break in to Nightmare's quarters when they were certain no one was around.

They had acquired a drug meant to incapacitate monsters and suppress their magic, and modified it to be several times as strong. Nightmare certainly wasn't at his strongest either, the Kingdom was a naturally positive place when Dream was around.

A few cult assassins threw a smoke bomb filled with the drug into Nightmare's room while he slept, and unfortunately it worked well enough. Nightmare wasn't unconscious, but he didn't have as fine of control over his magic or his own body.

The assassins came into the room, intending to kidnap Nightmare, but it's rather fortunate that Killer is a light sleeper, isn't it? Killer came into the room just as one of the assassins was about to grab Nightmare.

There was quite a few of them, as they'd been prepared for resistance, and though I hate to say it, they were skilled too. They weren't just some guy picked off the street and given a weapon, it was as if they'd been trained for years just for this moment.

It's likely they had been. Killer was having difficulties, but holding his own well enough. He would only really need to hold them off long enough for the guards to get to the room. Well, that's what he thought until he saw another assassin coming towards a practically immobile Nightmare, and he clearly wasn't intending to just kidnap the King.

Killer moved without thinking, and without his armor he was much more vulnerable to attacks... but getting injured wasn't an issue. He had to protect Nightmare at all costs, even if it meant he got hurt. That was the moment he lost his arm.

Killer didn't have time to register the pain, and slew the assassin who dared attempt to harm Nightmare. Killer was outnumbered still, and if he was having difficulties before, it was going to be impossible to hold out now.

He was lucky he didn't have to though, as several Guardsmen burst into the room. Seems they'd finally heard the commotion. The Guardsmen drove out the assassins, only managing to capture two. Killer was tended to, and he refused to leave Nightmare's side until the drug wore off.

How did Nightmare handle it?

Nightmare was half conscious in the moment, and so most of what he saw didn't register properly. It was only when the drug had worn off and he saw Killer by his side, sans one arm (Hehe), that it hit him.

Nightmare was angry first and foremost. He was angry it happened, angry Killer was dumb enough to get hurt, angry he wasn't able to resist the stupid drug, and angry that Killer seemed completely unbothered.

Nightmare didn't react well at all, and he ended up putting Killer on temporary leave. When Killer tried to refuse Nightmare said he was useless with only one arm, and Nightmare didn't need a useless Guard. Killer shut up pretty quickly.

Killer was still allowed to stay at the castle of course, but he was forbidden from coming near Nightmare's office, or taking part in any Guard duties. Nightmare believed that what happened was the stupidest thing Killer could have done, and refused to think otherwise.

It was during Killer's leave that Nightmare did research. He interrogated the cult members, and utilized glamours (Which we all know he's not fond of) in order to leave the castle without issue. Throughout his research, he spoke with the Court Apothecary regularly about Killer's injury. How was he fairing, is he at risk of dusting, is there anything to be done, stuff like that.

The Apothecary had made an offhanded comment that Killer is going to be without his arm for the rest of his life, since skeletons don't regenerate. Not unless he got enough magic to replace the missing arm at least.

He mentioned just getting a prosthetic for Killer, but that went in one ear and out the other, so to speak. Nightmare began to think about the suggestion (even though it was a joke). Nightmare had a large surplus of magic, and he thought about whether or not it was possible to somehow weave his magic with Killer's and form a new limb.

By the time Killer had returned to Nightmare, asking to return to his duties, the King had already figured out a way to properly do the procedure. He of course asked Killer if he would be allowed to do so, that he wasn't certain if it would work and that it certainly wouldn't be pretty.

Killer agreed without issue. The process was indeed a painful one... fusing Nightmare's magic with Killer's was difficult, and it was akin to taking a freezing cold needle and sewing a constantly shifting mass of energy directly to his soul. (Not actually how it worked, it's just how it felt).

The only reason Killer got through the procedure was because of Nightmare's intent. We all know that intent comes through to Monsters when involving magic, and Nightmare's intent made the process a lot less painful. Heal, fix, help, care, all those things came through to Killer.

It helped that Nightmare had a good relationship with Killer. His magic was much more willing to accept Killer's and vice versa. If this had been done between Nightmare and a stranger, it wouldn't have worked.

It took Killer a few days to work the arm properly. It was almost dead weight for a while. After that, it took even longer for him to properly fight with it, and longer still for him to be able to utilize the magic it was made with.

Has Nightmare ever asked Killer to sing for him?

Nope, Nightmare doesn't even know Killer can or that he has a good voice XD Killer has never sung in front of anyone, nor does he care to. It's just not something he does, but I imagine there could be a few scenarios where he gets coerced into it. Singing with friends, soothing a wounded animal (Yes Killer would do that, he likes small animals. They're cute.), that kind of stuff.

Nightmare's never had a reason to think Killer could sing. >w<

What Ships are going to be canon in Kingdomverse?

Well we've already got Cream, Killermare and Afterdeath as being confirmed.

Honestly I've kinda decided to leave the others more open for interpretation! If you want, you can say Errink is gonna happen, Lust could probably be someones s/o, it's all up to interpretation >w<

Theres quite the cast of characters in Kingdomverse?, and there might be more added later (if I can think of them), so honestly I'm sure there's no issue with some other ships coming to life!

Basically theres no other planned canon ships >w<

Can the skellies get preggers?

I don't see why not! Nightmare and Dream being immortals doesn't stop them from having kids, but I would say that if they did it would probably be through a different process than mortals.

I'd say that monsters need to make the conscious, or unconscious decision that they want a child or that they are ready for a child before they can have one.

Nightmare and Dream would probably be a bit difficult to have a child with purely because they have an immense amount of power and magic (even after a bond), so it might be a bit risky even for them to have kids.

(if any of you do make ship kids I want to see them though, I love baby bones >w<)

[nbrook29]

💞 My ultimate Sobbe fic recs 💞

Recently, I have gone through Robbe/Sander tag on ao3 and I decided to compose a list of fics that are absolute gems for me. A few disclaimers first:

✔ I didn’t include works in progress (WIPs), however I did include fics that are only on tumblr

✔ the order of the fics below is random

✔ this is the list of my personal favorites so if your favorite fic is not on the list it doesn’t mean it’s bad or that I consider it bad - we just vibe with different things :)

✔ if there’s a fic on this list that you decided to give a shot and loved it, please remember about leaving a comment under it to let the author know that

✔ I’ve been trying to add the “read more” thingy but it doesn’t show, I’m sorry, I know long posts are annoying af

under 1k

we’re keeping it simple by noobishere | G

Summary: Sander comes over unannounced and attacks Robbe’s very person (a.k.a the one where Sander teases Robbe on Eenvoud)

This is a guaranteed mood lifter. It’s short, sweet, to the point, and oh so funny. The banter. And I’d die to see that in the show. 

1k - 5k

Fizzy Colas by Foxsake5 | M

Summary: Let’s say this is a clip (hopefully not as short as the standard 1:40 of this season) with Sander as the main on a ‘bros night out’ 🍻

This author is my queen/king alright? They take a simple idea and turn it into the most lovely/cute/soft story. This fic is exactly that. Sobbe’s chemistry here is out of this world and the banter is to die for.

high for this by flowersmaze (@bowieskam) | G

Summary: In which Sander remains a Flirt™ and in love with Robbe even when he can’t feel his face after a medical procedure

The summary says it all. Loopy Sander is the cutest and funniest thing.

Pull Me from the Dark by TheOceanIsMyInkwell (@theoceanismyinkwell) | T

Summary: Sander discovers that Robbe has recently been prescribed antidepressants, and Robbe opens up to him about the night he almost stepped off the bridge. Only love will show how much they’ve grown and pull them through.

This time, the boys talk about Robbe’s mental state which is unusual in fics. This oneshot is communication 101. And this line is just 👌🏻 “But after the dust of their first kiss and their first vows of commitment settled around them, Robbe took a look at the space in which he floated and realized, somewhere along the line, that finding the love of your life doesn’t fix you.”

diminuendo by noobishere

Summary: Waking up feels like an ordeal. His eyes are heavy, arms a dead weight, he isn’t sure if his limbs are even in the right places, but eventually, Sander comes to. (a.k.a a take on how Sander fairs after Robbe left for school.)

Sander’s POV after Dinsdag 7:27. It’s a great insight into his headspace during that time. This could be a scene in the show because it fits so well.

you’re wonder under summer sky by nothingbutniall | M

Summary: Two city boys go camping. What could go wrong? (Everything, apparently.)

Those boys are a chaotic mess okay? They’re such dorks. This fic has the best kind of grumpiness there is and sobbe is written so in character here.

if we can make it through december (maybe we’ll make it through forever) by nothingbutniall | G

Summary: Robbe and Sander at the Christmas market.

Can you imagine those two dorks at the Christmas market? Well you don’t have to anymore because this fic is everything you need and more. And this line “Couldn’t,” Sander sulks. “You can’t hold hands properly with mittens on.” makes me go all gooey inside every.single.time 😍

A New Sunday Feeling by Foxsake5 | M

Summary:  Sander before Robbe: Ugh, Sundays 😒 Sander after Robbe: 😏🥺🥰

The way this author writes sobbe’s intimate moments is just pure talent. They have such way with words.

memories painted with much brighter ink by nothingbutniall | G

Summary: Saint Nicholas is the perfect excuse for an evening of gifts and banter with the flatshare. (Basically all five of them being cute together, and then Robbe and Sander being cute with just the two of them.)

This is the perfect fic for an October evening, when Christmas is just around the corner and you’ve just made yourself a cup of coffee and want to read some heart-warming well-written christmassy fluff. 

5k - 10k

Let’s Dance by msleviss (@sander-driesen) | G

Summary: Robbe and his friends go to a club to check out Amber’s DJ cousin.

THIS PERSON PREDICTED DJ SANDER Y’ALL. And Robbe thirsts over him. And there is an instant connection. And Robbe dances. And it’s so cute.

video phone by tokyometropolis (@luludemauryyy) | E

Summary: AKA OH MY GOD, THEY WERE QUARANTINED…except not together, because life is cruel. Thankfully it’s 2020 and when Robbe has an…er…intense dream about Sander in the middle of the night, all he has to do is press one button and Facetime him about it. Thing is…sometimes FaceTiming isn’t enough.

Look. I get that smut fics are not everyone’s cup of tea. And that’s totally fine. But. If you’re looking for a well-written smut that’s in character and where you can feel the love between the characters, this is it. Hands down. Sorry not sorry 💁🏼‍♀️

10k - 20k

our camp of dreams by robbesanderx (@robbesdriesen) | M

Summary: a summer camp!AU where robbe and sander are both co-counselors

Misunderstandings lead to pining. Teenage angst at its finest. I really like camp stories, it’s my thing.

Falling For You by silver_etoile (@azozzoni) | T

Summary: Robbe only knows one thing about football: that Sander Dreisen is the hottest player on the FC Utrecht team. When Jens drags him to a match, the last thing Robbe expects is to meet someone so perfect, and it’s all he can do not to mess it up, but will he succeed?

Sobbe in a different setting with a bit different dynamic yet still having that special something. It’s a nicely written story of the development of their relationship, first meeting, falling in love, ups and down, all the best things in fics. And Sander as a soccer player is a pretty 🔥 concept (and I think Robbe agrees).

This isn’t our first time around by noobishere | E

Summary: One moment they are in the kitchen of their shared apartment, the next, they’re in this strange but familiar room.(a.k.a the au in which they accidentally go hopping through multiple universes)

The universe takes matters into their own hands and shows those silly boys that they are meant to be. Sign me up for the ride.

Coffee and Croques by peaceoutofthepieces (@peaceoutofthepieces) | G

Summary: Sander works at the on-campus coffee shop with Eliott, and he might just have a crush on the cute boy in the brown coat.

I’m a sucker for coffeshop fics. There is just something so good about them. This one is the coffeshop!AU that sobbe deserves. Oh the pining, and the secretive looks, the silly boys, and a pinch of Elu. Me likey ☕

The finest of the meadow by allforyoumylove | M

Summary: The universe brings two lonely boys together in a flowering meadow. They fall for each other fast and hard among delicate daisies, warm summer breezes, and shooting stars.

This is magical. My comment on the work was “So soft, so beautiful, so THEM, ugh.” and I MEANT that. This is just the right amount of sweetness. This is a must read. I’m not messing around. 

two side of the same coin series by MajorAccent (@acespaceacepilot) | E

Summary: the valleys and mountains of sander’s bpd

How the boys handle Sander’s ups and downs. Robbe being the best boyfriend ever. I love how good he is for Sander, being there for him, not treating him like a baby, and not controlling him. How much he tries to make it at least a little bit easier for him. If you don’t want to read explicit stories, at least give the first part a try since it’s not E rated. 

Zaterdag 9:58 by Foxsake5 | M

Summary: What happened after the croissants dropped to the floor 🥐🤭💕

I meant it when I said Foxsake5 has great way with words. Every single piece of theirs is just “chef’s kiss”. This fic is a definition of a domestic fic. Oh, and it happened. Totally. It’s my headcanon now.

its an unrequited love by eggsntoast | G

Summary: Sander works part-time at a museum every Sunday. Robbe is a frequent visitor.

A Sander POV fic. I was sold from the beginning. The development of their relationship here is so cute, and they’re being so stupid with their pining instead of just talking to each other and you just want to shake them but at the same time you’re rooting for them so hard. Oh and did I mention pining?

20k+

Jij Verliest series by ravenbrenna09 (@djsander) | M

Summary: For the past three months, Robbe’s life—and what it once was—had been stripped away and rearranged. Now, if anything, his life had become a bit repetitive: homework, stream, ignore Thomas’s Instagram, repeat. But one Friday evening, Robbe meets a hurricane in the form of a platinum-haired tattoo artist who just might show him everything that he’s been missing.

This is a long series okay? But oh so worth it. It’s captivating and you don’t want to stop until you finish. And once you finish you’re sad it’s over even though you’ve just spent 8 fucking hours reading it. It’s amazing. But you probably know that because it’s quite popular (rightfully so). The best thing is that you expect it to go bad halfway through because it’s difficult to keep the quality on the same level in a fic that long. But it doesn’t.

Visitations by lucidpantone (@lucidpantone) | E

Summary: Does Robbe and Sander’s relationship survive into adulthood. This fic takes place in two simultaneously timelines: the past and the present.The present occurs in one entire day. Both timelines are completely out of chronological order. Everything is in clips.You can be dropped in at anytime of the day in any timeline. So clip by clip you will need to piece together what happen to Sander & Robbe and why the present looks the way it does and what happened in the past that got them there.This love story is a journey. So be prepared.In the words of one of our Even’s. It’s a complicated love story between complicated people.

This is not a regular fic. The author put so much thought into it, there are so many gems, so many little things that you have to pay attention to because it.all.matters. And there is not one interpretation. Don’t you just love when a story forces you to think and use your brain? Cause I do. Not gonna lie: this story hurts, and like the author says themselves, it’s a journey. But oh my god get in because it’s amazing. And the ending is just sjsjsjsjsddhdhsdsgdsg 🤯

the night we met by themoongirl (@dearsander) | T

Summary: Robbe Ijzermans has a brain that won’t let him sleep, a chest that feels far too heavy and thoughts that never stop.During his first year of college he meets Sander Driesen. Robbe finds what he never went looking for.

A college AU. This fic is a journey of pain and fluff and humor. It has awesome friendships. And sobbe falling in love. And liminal spaces. I read it a while ago so I don’t remember it as well as the others but you know what? I still remember that it was great and I’m lowkey happy I don’t remember it that well because now I can go and read it again. 

The Stars Look Very Different by @peaceoutofthepieces 

Summary: Robbe is bored. He’s bored of listening to his friends talking about girls, and his other friends making out, and no one ever doing anything. He’s tired of having to put in all the work, of making his own fun. He’s tired of feeling nothing so he doesn’t have to feel like nothing. His party stunts are pushing the limit, his thrill seeking beginning to worry even his friends, and his carelessness is toeing the line of dangerous.

He’s a little tired of being ‘dangerous’, too.

Sander may or may not have a crush on the older boy with the apparent death wish. He wouldn’t mind a little danger.

Once I started reading this fic, each day I was waiting for an update at the edge of my seat which was a feeling I expected from s4 that did not deliver. TSLVD definitely delivered. My favorite sobbe social media AU

Ziggy Stardust Series by skamsnake (@skamsnake) | M/E

A collection of fics taking place throughout the season. Most of them are E rated so be aware of that but it’s a really cool mixture of fluff and spice *fans myself*

[clearlydiamondz]

Make Up For It

Erik Stevens x OC

Part ONE

p.2

---------------------------

After a year of not seeing Erik, Jada has been faced with him in a sticky situation. 

Warnings: Blood, Mention of Medical Procedure

--------------------------

Jada laid back into the bathtub, letting the smell of the sweet candles fill her senses. She needed this.. in so many ways than others. After working 12 hours all week this week in the ICU, she was finally off for the next three days. She spoiled herself with some crab legs and dirty rice. She caught up in some of her reality T.V and her favorite anime (7 Deadly Sins), and now she was relaxing in her bath tub. 

She was dozing off until she heard the noise coming from her downstairs. Instantly she jolted up. At first she just thought it was her imagination until she heard whispers. She got out the bathtub before walking into her bedroom and grabbing her pistol that her brother King, got her to protect herself. She wrapped the black robe around her body before slowly opening her door. 

She walked down the stairs, holding the pistol taking it off of safety. She turned the corner to hear the talk get louder. “I thought you said she was off these days?” She recognized that voice. It was her brother.

“I thought she was here.” She recognized that voice too. How could she not? That was her ex-boyfriend. Erik Stevens. Gosh she missed him. How could she not? They’ve been together since high school. She was his right hand women while he ran his empire. But after a really bad break up, she cut all ties with him. Now it’s been almost year since she last seen him. 

“Bruh let’s just dip.” That was a voice she did recognize. 

She turned on the lights before saying, “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t put a bullet in each of your knee caps.” she said. That was until she saw Erik and the other boy holding her brother up. “What the hell happened to him?” she said putting the gun on safety and placing it on the side table. 

“We were at the club, next thing you know gun shots were being ring. He got hit.” Erik said as she closed her eyes. He was lying out his ass. 

“Lay him down on the couch.” he was laid down as he groaned. She unbuttoned his shirt seeing the wound. “What time did this happen?”

“Not even 30 minutes ago..” her brother said as she nodded licking her teeth. 

“So you guys think I’m stupid.. right?” she said looking at the two of them. 

“What are you even talking about?”

“If this happened 30 minutes ago, why is there brown dried up blood already around the wound. And you can see around the area where the skin in starting to die.”  she said pointing it out. “I know you like the back of my hand, you’re lying to me.” she snapped standing up pointing at Erik.

“We ain’t lying it’s-”

“I’m sorry.. who are you?”  she asked the random man.

“Oh, I’m DJ.” he said as she looked between the three of them. She stood up.

“Tell me what happened.” she said looking at the three, as Erik rolled his eyes.

“Bruh we’re not fucking lying.” 

“Okay.. play dumb then. I’ma play along with ya ass.” she walked to her kitchen, grabbing her house phone dialing 911. “Wait wait, don’t call 911!” King exclaimed. He looked at Erik nodding his head. 

“We were doing a raid between one of the rivals, it went left. They hit him and we just came back into town.” Erik said as she closed her eyes. 

“Why didn’t you guys go to a fucking hospital!” she yelled at him as King scoffed.

“And risk going to jail. No thank-”

“Shut up King! Do you not understand that you could have died! I don’t give a fuck about none of that shit!” she snapped at him. King sat back, listening to his sister. “And the fuck am I suppose to do? I don’t have supplies here?” she asked Erik tilted his head in confusion. 

“What about the emergency kit we had.”

“I threw it out. Supplies in there was expired. And why would I keep knowing that you-” she stopped herself before looking at her brother. “You need to take him to the hospital. The wound is already getting affected.” she told them as King groaned. 

“Jada look, I understand you’re mad at us but-”

“This does not have anything to do with being mad, look at my fucking brother Erik.” she snapped at him.

“Jada… please. I can’t go back to jail man.” King said to her. She saw the tears building up in his eyes as she scratched her forehead. “Someone stay here with him, we can go to the pharmacy up the road to get supplies.” she said turning around. She walked back up the stairs to get dress.

“I’ll go with her.” DJ said as Erik scoffed. 

“Nah nigga.. I see the way you lookin at her and that shit ain’t happening.” Erik said. DJ stared down at Erik crossed his hands over his chest. “You tryna fuck my-”

“Aye.. first of all that’s my fucking sister you’re talking about. And two, I’m right here.” King said as Erik rolled his eyes. Jada came back down with grey stacked sweatpants, a black tank top, and black flip flops. She had a white rag in her hand before walking to King. She took off the button up as he winced out. 

“Hold this on his wound. I don’t know how much blood he lost so let’s try and keep what he has in his body please. Put pressure on it.” she told him. He followed her instructions before grabbing her keys and her gun placing it in her waistband. 

“Nah, we are driving my car-”

“Do you really think you’re in the position right now to make any decisions?” she cuts him off. Erik smacked his teeth listening to her. He’s not even going to lie, he miss this. She was the only one on planet Earth that he allowed to talk to him like that. 

“Plus, if what you said is true, there are people from the raid all over this city looking for you. You’re car is probably being searched for as we speak.” she said making her way to the garage. They got into her car, as she backed out of the driveway. They rode through the dead city, the car silent. 

“You know I didn’t mean for him to get hurt.. right?” she gripped the steering wheel, before nodding. 

“Erik I know..” she said looking at the road. “But you didn’t have to lie..” she reminded him. 

“I just know how you get when it comes down to him..” 

“Yeah but you also know that I don’t like being left in the dark.” she said pulling into the parking lot. She found a close parking spot before stepping out. He followed her inside seeing her grab the things she needed. 

“We need to stop by the hospital. There’s a couple of things that we need to get that they don’t have in here.” she said. 

After paying for everything, they made their way to the hospital. “Stay here.” he instructed her. “No I need to come with you.”

“Erik It’s fine.. I got this,” she walked into the 

“Excuse me, who are you?”

“Oh I’m the lead for the ICU unit. I left my charger in the break room and came by to pick it up.” she said as the nurse looked her up and down. 

“Yeah. Hopefully it’s still in there.” You know how people can get with their sticky fingers.” she joked as Jada chuckled. She went to the supply closet before grabbing some of the items she needed. She made her way out to the car to see Erik sitting in the car. 

“You got everything.” 

“Yeah, let’s head back.”

After this little procedure, she had them put him in one of the spare bedrooms she had in her house. She told them to leave the room so she could have privacy with her brother. She sat on the floor on the side of the bed as he looked at her. “I know this isn’t how you wanted to spend you day off.” he said to her as she nodded.

“I’m so glad you know so..” she said to him as he chuckled. 

“I’m sorry that I lied to you..” he randomly said as she chuckled. 

“I’m just glad that you’re alive...” she told him as he nodded. There was silence before he spoke up. “You know Erik still wants to be with you.” he said as she scoffed. 

“Erik is the least of my worries right now, no offense.” she told him as he chuckled. 

“I’m serious, give that nigga a chance. Do you know how much he’s obsessed with you? Asking me every other day are you okay? Do you need money? Like damn call her your damn self.” he mocked him as he chuckled. Jada looked down on at the ground playing with her hands. 

“You need to rest. I’ll be back in a few hours to refill your IV.” she told him. She kissed him on the forehead before turning the lights off and walking out his room. Erik stood on the other side of the hallway.

“How’s he doing?” 

“He’s fine, he didn’t loose that much blood thankfully.” she said. 

“That’s good.” he said putting his hands in his pockets.

“I need to talk-” “Can we talk?”

They both said at the same time. They both laughed before she said, “Let’s go to my bar and have a drink?”

They walked to her bar as she grabbed two whiskey glasses, pouring some Hennessy into each one. He grabbed it before taking a sip. “I miss you..” was all she said before he looked at her leaning against the counter. He smirked bringing the glass to his lips. 

“That must’ve been really hard to admit.. huh?” she hit him in the arm as he chuckled. He placed the glass on the counter before looking her up and down. 

“I missed you too... that whole situation spiraled outta control honestly. And it’s a shame that shit had us to stubborn to not talk to each other for almost a damn year.” he said as she sighed looking down. 

“What does that mean for us?” she asked him as he walked closer to her closing the gap. He basically towered over her making her weak in the knees. 

“I feel like we both know.” he whispered to her. “I don’t know about you, but I got a lotta of making up to do.” he said hooking his index finger along the strap of the tank top. He let it hang off her shoulder as tilted her head over. He placed soft kisses on her shoulder as she sighed in pleasure.

“I have to makeup for a birthday, valentines day.” he whispered. He undid the other strap. 

“Erik..” she whispered as he pulled away from her. 

“Can I make it up to you?”

[forsakenoathkeeper]

I Am Alive (chapter 13/?)

Chapter 13: Shattered Porcelain

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 • 12 • 13 • more coming soon

You can also read on AO3 & thank you for supporting me ♥

Author's notes:

There are a handful of android medical procedures in this chapter. Could be uncomfortable if you're squeamish. I'm not an expert with the lore. So, I tried to have it fit with DBH's android anatomy; but, if I'm being honest, I pretty much made this up as I went along.

Also, this chapter is super cheesy with lots of cameos.

...

...

...

The place Connor brought you to was a rundown building that looked like it was an apartment complex once upon a time. The sight left a sinking feeling in your gut, mainly because androids were living in this squabble and there was nothing you could do about it.

You followed behind Connor, who had a death grip on your hand. He was likely more afraid than you were. You placed your free hand on his shoulder to try to urge him to relax. You were ready to tell him as such; however, when you crossed the threshold into the place he called 'Haven', the words died on your tongue.

The floor was bare concrete and the walls were decades behind on a much-needed paint job. The place somehow had electricity, likely from a makeshift generator. At the least, there were some functioning lights; but, they were all covered in dust with dead bugs lining the interior fixtures.

The androids had cleared out the center to make room for the supplies Kamski had wrangled up. They were neatly organized across several crates acting as tables. As soon as you stepped in with Connor, many eyes landed on you, ranging from nervous to distrust.

Their states ranged from pristine to chipped to severely damaged, limbs missing, sauntered poorly to prevent thirium loss. Many of them had stitched together mismatched parts to try to regain some semblance of order. You couldn't imagine what that must have felt like.

You nudged at Connor's forearm until he got the message and let go of your hand. He remained close, his presence looming and protective.

Markus was quick to make himself known. "Thank you for all of this," he said, gesturing to the supplies in the center of the room. "Really I... I don't know how to properly thank you."

"I-it wasn't from me," you said, feeling nervous. "More of a messenger, really."

Your eyes swept the floor, where some androids stared at you with abandon and others were trying not to stare. You swallowed nervously, not knowing where to start, if any of them even wanted you touching them.

Some androids had already taken to the supplies and were patching each other up. Androids might have been more knowledgeable about their own anatomy than humans often were of themselves; but, not all problems were simple.

An android pushed his way through the crowd and approached you with haste.

"It's you," he said, a beaming smile on his face.

You and Connor recognized the android immediately. He had been driving a Cyberlife supply truck that was attacked by protestors. You had pulled him out of the wreckage and saved him.

"When they said a nurse was coming, I was hoping-" he cut himself off, sounding choked up and excited. "If it wasn't for you, I'd be dead," he proclaimed. His words eased the tension that had been building up inside you and left you bubbling with pride. You didn't know what to do but to smile at him.

"C-can you-" he stammered. "We have someone who's very damaged."

"I'll do my best," you replied, trying to mask how nervous you felt. You squeezed at the handle on your shoulder bag, the weight of your tools suddenly feeling much heavier.

The android ducked back into the crowd with haste.

You were shocked when he returned with another android in his arms. It was immediately obvious to you that the android was shut down. He was limp, eyes open and staring ahead blindly, LED on his temple off, a stoic expression on his face.

He was an WR600 model, still wearing his factory default uniform. However, he had a tarp wrapped around his shoulders, wearing it like a poncho.

The artificial skin on his hands and wrists had been scraped down to the android shell beneath. He had a gaping wound on his right forearm that went beyond the shell and exposed the membrane beneath. It was pulsing blue, indicating he was still functioning.

You followed them to a makeshift table, where the android set the WR600 model down carefully. As you maneuvered around to get a better look, the left side of the unconscious WR600's face came into view, and you audibly gasped.

Someone had struck him, hard, multiple times, across the face. His jaw was indented, skin scraped off to expose the pale white shell underneath. The cuts were so deep that the blue membrane beneath was exposed. Cracks split out from the gashes, like shattered porcelain.

The damage had shattered the protective sheathing on his right optical. Thirium had leaked into it, staining the entire eyeball blue. The gashes ran up into his hairline and one ran low enough to split at the corner of his lip.

You had seen androids looking far worse than this before; but, still, you never got over it.

"W-what-" you stammered, silencing yourself when you realized how pointless it was to ask.

It was obvious what had happened.

"Why is he powered off?" you asked hesitantly, looking up at the android who had carried him over to you. Your first assumption was that something was very wrong with him.

"We had to force him offline," the android replied, not looking proud of that. "He was... erratic."

You wondered if he meant the android was erratic when he heard a human was coming, or if he was always like that. Considering the damage, you wouldn't have been surprised if it was the former.

"I - uhm," you stammered nervously. "I need someone to be his guardian - to consent to this, since he can't. Are you close?"

The android looked uneasy, but also touched by your words. "He's not close to anyone."

You swallowed nervously and did your best to keep your gaze off the room and focused more heavily on the WR600. You hadn't worked on an unconscious android since before the revolution. The thought made your stomach churn.

Sensing your frustration, Connor approached you. His concerned face came into view in the corner of your eye.

'You don't have to do this,' is likely what he was going to say.

Not wanting to give him the chance, you said, boldly, "I'm okay, Connor."

He looked uneasy for a moment, LED solid yellow, as he tried to fight himself on this. You being here made him really uncomfortable; but, he knew how much this mattered to you. Part of him also knew that these androids needed this. It wasn't just for repairs, but to give them some hope that humans like you existed in this world.

When Connor stepped away, you rotated over to the powered off WR600.

"What's his name?" you asked as you set your bag down carefully and unzipped the top.

"Ralph," the android who had carried him over answered.

After pulling out some tools, you reached around the back of Ralph's ear to open his access panel. With a heave, you lifted him by the shoulder to gain access to his upper back and easily found the release for his skull.

His appearance was alarming; but, you were more concerned with the high possibility of damaged internal components.

As expected, one of Ralph's processing units was cracked. The good news is that it was a common model, and one that Kamski had supplied dozens of.

You investigated his eye next. As soon as you opened the socket, thirium leaked out and spilt all over the table. It wasn't enough to concern you, and you carefully removed his optical unit. Upon a closer inspection, you were confident it was still operational.

With a free hand, you yanked a clean container out of your bag to set the optical unit it so you could investigate the sheathing. The gold platers on the connector were still intact; but, the sheathing closest to his temple was cracked. Luckily, it could be repaired the same way you intended to repair the dents on his face.

It was less preferable than completely replacing the shell pieces; however, you didn't have access to any of those. He would have very noticeable scars. You hoped, at least, they would be more preferable to an exposed membrane.

For a moment, you set your tools down and scurried along the line of android parts until you located a box containing processors. Ralph's was easy to locate and was the first thing you replaced on him.

With that complete, you pulled more tools from your bag and a small ingot of android skin. You started with the protective sheathing around the eye before slowly, carefully filling in the cracks in his face. You did your best to match the contours of his cheek bones and jawline, suddenly feeling more like a sculptor than an engineer.

Connor tried to give you space while you worked. He was far enough away to not hover, but close enough to get to you quickly, if needed. You were too focused to notice, thankfully.

"Do you remember us?" a soft, feminine voice beckoned to him, startling him out of his trance.

Two female androids stepped into his peripheral. They were WR400 models, one with long, dark blue hair, and the other with very short, light brown, almost red hair.

Connor didn't immediately reply; but, the look in his eyes gave them his answer.

They were the Traci models who had escaped the Eden Sex Club last winter. The last time he saw them, they were running away, hands cupped tightly together. They looked much the same today, hands still tightly intertwined, the same look of adoration on their faces.

"You had a clear shot," the short haired Traci stated. "I know you did, several times; but, you let us go."

"I-" Connor stammered, finding himself at a loss of words.

Back then, he didn't understand their behavior, why he couldn't bring himself to shoot them, even when they had their backs turned, why Hank looked so impressed - proud - when he let them go. He didn't understand how they could find comfort in each other, why they were afraid of losing of each other, of not being able to hold and touch again.

He had changed since then - changed a lot, in fact.

Now, he understood.

"We're grateful," the blue haired Traci said, standing so close to her partner that their shoulders touched. "We're still together because of you."

"I didn't do anything worthy of praise," Connor said lowly, his eyes expressing the turmoil in his thoughts.

"Even if you don't think so, we know what you did," the short haired Traci declared, expression soft on her face.

"You understand, now," the blue haired android stated boldly, briefly turning around to steal a glance at you. It didn't go unnoticed, the way Connor gripped your hand when you entered the building, how he stared at you protectively while you worked.

Strangely, he didn't feel scrutinized by the two female androids. They seemed... happy for him.

He nodded silently, at a loss for what to say to them, and the two ladies departed, leaving him alone in his thoughts.

He thought about what they had endured, having to be used by strangers, by people who didn't think of them as living beings. Up until that moment, when they jumped the fence, they lived a life where they were believed unfeeling. They would return to one and other's arms to try to find solace in what consisted of their lives: play things for humans.

Connor thought about how strong they were, that they could endure that for so long.

He couldn't bear the thought-

If anyone dared tried to touch you, he would-

You were still hunched over the WR600 when Connor wretched himself from his thoughts before they wandered into territory that should probably be alone.

You had opened the android's forearms, trying to determine if any wires were damaged. Feeling inspired, Connor huffed softly and trotted over to you. You were so focused that you didn't see him coming and gasped when his hand came into view.

"G-geez, Connor," you scolded him softly, catching the sight of his freckled face in the corner of your eye.

He reached into the android's exposed wiring, his artificial, human skin, fading away. "I'll stimulate the wires so you can determine which are defective," he explained.

In the corner of his eye, Connor could see you smile. "That would help a lot. Thank you."

He sent jolts along the lines. Ones that worked properly gave a response, a very subtle twitch of the hand on the powered off android. Ones that didn't gave no response. They were not major, which meant the use of his hands wouldn't be completely severed; but, his movement would be limited, gestures abrupt or sporadic.

Sometime later, with Connor's help, you had replaced seven wires on one hand and four on the other.

You had enough material to at least cover the exposed membrane on his wrists; but, you didn't have enough to fill in gaps where the artificial human skin was lost. At the very least, you could protect the android muscle tissue.

Connor watched you fill in those wounds in silence, knowing he couldn't do much else. When that was done, you retrieved a saline wash from your bag to cleanse Ralph's eye before carefully returning it to the socket.

"Alright," you sighed, patting your hands together. "That's... all I can do for now."

A couple androids gathered around, one reaching for Ralph to prop him up. "Wow. You did all that without a replacement shell?" one of them commented, the awe in their tone making your heart flutter.

The way they admired the WR400 made you feel something sickeningly sweet. The scars on his face were noticeable; but, the fine cracks were filled in well enough to almost be seamless, unless the light hit just right. The fibrous material beneath his android skin was covered fully. His artificial human skin was mostly intact, minus his hands.

All you could hope was that he would like it. The damaged processor could cause speech issues and potential lapses in judgement; however, his behavior, as described by his fellow androids, was likely a developed trait from trauma. You knew you couldn't fix that, only hope that a new processor would aid his recovery.

Connor stepped between you and Ralph as they powered him on. You moved around Connor, trying to push him out of the way. You wanted to see him wake up, wanted to see life blossom into his hazel eyes.

It didn't blossom, per say, but he suddenly jolted forward and twitched, eyes bright and wild, suddenly very much awake. He looked around hastily, annoyance immediately appearing on his face.

"How dare you power Ralph off-!" he whined loudly, pushing against the hands that held him. They let go at his protest, but remained close as a precaution.

Suddenly, Ralph stopped, looking down at his arms. He gasped, rotated his limbs around to examine them. His hands slid over opposing arms, touching the spots you had filled as if he doubted what his optical processor was showing him. His mouth hung agape and his eyes were wide and bright.

"Ralph's hands are-" he stammered, staring at them in wonder and disbelief.

He realized, faintly, that he could see properly again out of his left eye. Ralph's dominant hand rose and he touched his face, eyes shifting away from you and staring into a random direction. He gasped when he felt the scars left behind from the work you had done.

After that, he recognized a firmware update reading on his HUD, and realized one of his processors had been replaced - the very one that he painstakingly ignored for months, his HUD constantly giving him warnings about how the unit was in imminent failure and needed to be replaced.

Suddenly, Ralph looked up and scanned the room hastily. His eyes landed on you and he froze. You were wearing scrubs and had some thirium stained on your hands. It was an obvious conclusion to come to.

"A - a human...?" he asked lowly. "No - no human would help Ralph - me... me..." he uttered, seemingly to himself. He looked down at his hands resting on his lap.

You didn't know what to say to him, if there was anything you could say that he would possibly want to hear. He seemed more confused than anything else.

"She did, Ralph," one of the androids offered softly, their hand falling onto the blonde android's shoulder cautiously.

He looked up at you again, his lips moving slightly in what appeared to be an unconscious, nervous tick. "Humans wouldn't without - without a reason," he uttered.

The android twitched when he saw your hopeful expression shift and sadness reflected in your eyes.

"R-Ralph didn't mean-" he stammered, lowering his head. His hands came up and gripped the sides of his skull, the touch a little rough, but not enough to hurt himself. "-didn't mean to be ungrateful," he choked out.

"It's okay," another android urged him gently.

Ralph avoided looking at you again. He made a movement to stand and the androids huddled around him backed up. He rose to his feet, stealing a glance at you over his shoulder before shuffling away and disappearing into the crowd. It was hard to make clear of his expression; but, to you, it looked like guilt.

You didn't blame him, or hold any contempt, not even for a second. He likely had never been shown the slightest bit of kindness in his short life.

"Thank you," one of the androids said softly, approaching with you a smile. "He may not show it, but..."

"It's okay," you replied, sincerely. "I understand."

Not long after Ralph departed, a TR400 android approached you, asking if you could examine his left eye. After popping the optical unit out and verifying it was undamaged, you noticed one of the connector pins was bent.

"I don't have a replacement connector; but, I have a soldering kit if you trust me?" you asked him. He seemed grateful that you were willing to try more so than anything else.

It took a little while, as you were slow and careful. But, it was worth it to have the optical pop back into place with a soft click and to see the android blink carefully. He looked around, iris shifting subtly in his eyeball as his vision adjusted.

"It's working now," he chirped, the corner of his eyes wrinkling with his smile.

"I'm glad," you replied softly. You meant it, really. It was always a risk to attempt to fix connectors yourself; but, you had some pride in knowing that you were usually successful.

Right as the android left, a WB200 hesitantly approached you, one hand cupped over his opposite elbow in a nervous gesture.

Before he could get too close, Connor startled you when he suddenly grabbed you by the arm and yanked you back, pulling you behind him and stepping into the space between you and the other android. He glared down at the smaller android, who put up his hands defensively.

"Con - what are you-" you squeaked, nearly tripping over your own feet as the android pulled at you.

"Please, wait, I-" the WB200 pleaded, his voice low and frightened. His hair was short and messy and he had a very boyish face that matched his voice. "I'm sorry about what I did, I - I just couldn't let you catch me."

A little annoyed, you pushed at Connor's sides and stepped around him.

"He's dangerous," Connor warned, eyes not yet moving from the other android. You gawked at the detective, recognizing the distrust in his eyes, before moving your gaze to the WB200. He looked afraid of Connor, and it became immediately obvious that they had history.

"I'm sorry - I mean it. If you caught me, I would've been sent back - and - and destroyed - I - I was scared," he insisted.

He had pushed Hank off the roof in order to escape being captured. If Connor hadn't gotten there fast enough, Hank might have fallen to his death. The android had good reason to be afraid. Connor knew that; but, if he was willing to risk a human life-

The detective was taken aback when you nudged past him and approached the android.

"What's wrong?" you asked him softly, ignoring the hole Connor was burning in the back of your head with his stare.

"I - ugh-" the android stammered, startled by your insistence and still intimidated by the detective android. His eyes flickered away from you for a second, giving Connor a worried look. "My - my right leg. I damaged it when I fell."

You stepped back and the WB200 demonstrated. He took a few steps and you could see the awkward way his leg moved. It was clearly unnatural, and shifted in a way that would have caused a human a great deal of pain. The leg also made an unpleasant creaking sound with each step, crying out in protest from the pressure.

"Lay down please," you asked, gesturing to the makeshift table Ralph had been laying on a moment ago. As he did, you explained, "I - I'm sorry, but, you'll have to undress."

"I understand," he replied lowly, struggling to meet your gaze.

He was wearing a scraggly pair of jeans, likely taken from a dumpster, and a hoodie. He peeled his pants down his legs, wearing nothing underneath. WB200's were designed for manual labor, typically farming or light maintenance. You weren't surprised to find he lacked any male anatomy.

Before you had to ask, he opened the access panel covering his knee, which allowed you to look inside at the wiring, artificial muscles and bones.

"The knee joint is out of alignment," you stated, trying to examine his knee without touching him just yet.

"May I?" you asked, holding your hands up to show what you were requesting. He nodded, lips thin and eyes not hiding how nervous he was.

You pulled back the shell loosely covering his knee to take a better look at the artificial muscle that allowed proper leg movement. He had abandoned maintaining a human skin tone on his leg; or, that function had been damaged when he fell. His skin tone ended at his waist and he was factory default white below.

You stepped away from him briefly to locate some pliars.

Connor had stepped back to give you space, but was still watching, now more so out of amazement than worry. You were absolutely fearless. It simultaneously impressed and infuriated him. You also were ignoring him fiercely.

"What's your name?" you asked the WB200 when you returned to the table.

He gave you a look, suggesting he was contemplating not answering.

"...Rupert," he eventually said, swallowing roughly afterward.

"Rupert, we don't have these parts; so, I'm gonna see if I can fix the alignment myself. We'll have to follow at the hip joint afterward to manually reset the alignment. It will likely hurt," you explained carefully.

"I'm not afraid," Rupert blurted boldly.

"That's good," you responded, reaching behind yourself to yank a chair in closer and plop down before digging into his knee.

You were so focused on the joint that you didn't hear the commotion going on around you, not until some music started playing. You paused for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden melody.

You tossed a look over your shoulder and saw that someone had arranged some pieces of equipment to fashion together a radio. "That'll liven the place up," one of the androids proclaimed proudly, admiring her work proudly.

Once, it might have been a funny thought to imagine androids enjoying music. Hearing their excitement over the piano, bass, and gentle drum brought a smile to your face. It was jazz, soft and relaxing, with no vocals. Something so subtle so drastically changed the atmosphere in the room.

"Okay. I think I got the joint back in place," you declared, standing up and smacking the sheathing back into place. Rupert had been hyper focused on you the entire; when you shifted your gaze from his knee to his face, he looked more relaxed than when you had started.

"Can you open your hip?" you requested, standing at his waist. He nodded, lifting his hoodie to his ribs. His skin faded whilst the panel opened. Manual joint alignments required calibrations at the base for most models. Few could do it automatically. Rupert unfortunately was not one of those models.

"Ready?" you asked, gently pushing back the fibrous, artificial muscle to reach the joint panel.

"Yes," he replied immediately.

You pinched the reset key. His leg twitched and Rupert let out a bizarre, staticky sound, clearly one of pain. The alignment seemed to go off fine; but, his power conductors were likely not state of the art, as expected for his model type. The power traveled from his chassis to the joint and gave you a little shock.

You yelped and let go, stepping back. Rupert looked at you, eyes wide with fear..

"Just a little shock," you explained quickly, trying to relax him. "It's normal."

He relaxed and moved his leg around a little. "Wow," he wheezed. "Feels better - much better." With haste, the android pulled his clothes back on and shimmied off the table and onto his feet to test the alignment. He seemed excited as he bounced around on his heels.

"I - thank you - thank you," he stammered out nervously.

You nodded at him with a smile. "Of course, Rupert."

You turned away from him to set your tools back into their proper positions, just so you wouldn't lose them later. As you did, you heard him give Connor parting words.

"I am sorry - I mean it," he said quietly. If the detective android replied, you didn't hear what he said.

Connor was faintly aware of the high possibility that you were irritated with him in that moment; however, that didn't stop him from approaching you and offering a water bottle, bringing it into your peripheral.

You had forgotten that he took the time to pack a backpack with water and food for you. You were prepared to come here with nothing; but, the android had taken the extra step to make sure you had something.

He really made it impossible to be mad at him for two seconds-

"You should take a break," he suggested softly as you chugged the water enthusiastically. You hadn't realized how thirsty you were until that moment. Leave it to Connor to be more attentive to your needs than you.

"I'm fine," you gently retorted.

"You've been going nonstop for almost four hours," Connor insisted.

"I'm fine," you said again, a little firmer than last time.

His hand fell onto your shoulder. "Please?" he requested. Connor stepped around, right in front of you, and offered his hand in a gesture that you recognized, but you had never seen directed at yourself.

Judging by the look on your face, you definitely didn't expect that from the android in that moment. You gawked at him stupidly and Connor looked back hopefully.

The music was quite fitting for that, but, still, you felt nervous.

"I-" you cut yourself off, looking conflicted.

"Am I in the doghouse?" he asked softly, almost uncertain.

Connor couldn't help but crack a grin at the way your eyes lit up and your lips twisted into a smile. You choked on a bubbly laugh at his tease.

"No," you huffed, delivering a gentle smack to his shoulder. "I just - 'm not graceful, at all, and never really..."

You took his hand anyway and the android cupped it and placed his other hand on your waist, pulling you in gently. He took note of the faint blush on your cheeks, blissfully aware that he really liked that look on you.

"I didn't know you liked to dance," you offered quietly as your free hand fell onto his shoulder.

It wasn't so much of a dance as it was two bodies swaying to a melody. But, you were close, close enough that your torso was touching his chassis, and it felt nice, comforting. You didn't really move, but more so followed the sway Connor had set.

"I don't know if I do," Connor said honestly. "I just wanted to, with you."

As always, Connor was full of surprises. Sometimes, you had to scold yourself for thinking that you knew everything about him, only for him to go and prove you very, very wrong.

"I like the music," he added on.

"Yeah," you agreed, breathlessly.

You liked the music. That much was true; but, it was hard to think straight when Connor was so close and looking at you like that.

-like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

-like nothing else in this world mattered.

His hand, that had been on your waist, shifted around so that his forearm cupped your lower back. He dipped you back, gently forcing you to arch, and you let out a surprised sound. When he pulled you back up, he looked way too proud for forcing that noise out of you.

"Brat," you huffed against his neck. You were glad he didn't apologize, because he didn't look sorry at all.

You lost track of how long you did that. The world seemed to dissipate in that moment. You weren't in an abandoned apartment complex on the industrial side of town, surrounded by damaged androids.

But, then, Connor leaned down slowly, a gesture you were quite familiar with. He gave you a second to protest or turn away. When you didn't, he carefully slotted his mouth over yours, and you suddenly, very fiercely remembered where you were. Yet, that knowledge didn't stop your eyes from fluttering shut or your heart from hammering away in your chest. If anything, it amplified it.

It was a suave kiss, almost chaste. Still, he had done it in front of all these androids. When you parted and looked up at him, his eyes met yours and they said, 'I just had to'. You couldn't bring yourself to be upset with him, or to care that half of the room was staring.

Some part of his software, that he didn't realize existed, wanted them all to know.

You were his, and he was yours.

Human.

Android.

It didn't matter. You were two living beings, and you were fucking happy, and that was all that mattered.

But, then, a sharp gasp rang out through the crowd and the radio was abruptly shut off. Connor turned his eyes to the source of the sound and realized an android had staggered back and tripped, now on their back on the ground and trying to scurry away. You tried to look over his shoulder to see what the fuss was all about.

"Markus," a masculine voice called out in despair. "How could you let them in here?"

The detective android narrowed his eyes.

It was Robert, a gun in his trembling hand.

[themockingcrows]

Faint

Chronic invisible illness sucks. Sometimes we stay quiet. Sometimes we cope by giving our favorite characters our condition to get some comfort. This fic is the latter case, wherein Rose Lalonde has Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome and Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and deals with everything that brings in order to spread a bit of awareness.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31556225

She’d thought it was normal, till she brought it up to the others. The chest pain, the exhaustion, the dizziness. The sense of running on an internal timer so precise that if she overstepped its bounds it would be time to collapse into the void itself. The darkness at the edges of her vision when she’d been upright too long, when she was stressed, when she was running, dancing.

She’d thought it was normal, that everyone just had more stamina than she did before they had the same symptoms occur.

“That’s not normal. You should maybe see a doctor!” they’d unanimously said. John had been concerned, Dave had been flippant with jokes but the worry was easy to detect, and Jade was forceful with her reasoning.

Rose had finally told her mother something was wrong, to spur a visit to the doctor. It was hard to explain at first, but when her guardian further questioned how she felt, how long she’d felt that way, it had nearly turned into a shouting match.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? What if something is really wrong, Rosie! This isn’t something to just keep quiet!”

If she’d known it was abnormal, perhaps she would have mentioned it sooner. If she’d known. If she’d had a reason, she might have even been able to keep up with ballet instead of having to quit, feigning disinterest when it still made her heart sing. Violin was hard enough to deal with, with her arms raised the entire time. But ballet was just a no go anymore.

To the doctor, then, after a few weeks of edge of seat waiting. The family physician, who they’d known for years. Who didn’t believe her. Not at first, at least.

He’d checked her weight first thing, and finding her normal range, asked about her habits. While he spoke, he checked her joints and how stretchy she was, keeping her moving while talking till she was reeling on her feet before he let her lay down. Stupid old man. Her problem felt like it was in her chest or her head, not her joints! She’d always been plenty bendy, able to pull off poses ahead of her ballet class with minimal effort, the stretches never quite feeling like enough to really pull in her body in a satisfying way.

Head swimming till she lay flat on the exam table, arms crossed over her stomach absently, Rose continued to answer questions.

She was doing okay in school. She was just more tired than usual.

Yes, this had been happening for quite some time.

No, she’d fainted before, but only once. And only because she’d been up too long dancing. She didn’t miss the curious look the doctor gave her mother, the raised brow. He checked her abdomen, he checked her glands, looking for distension or rigidity, looking for clues. Nothing. Nothing that she could see, at least. Nothing that felt any different from normal. He continued to talk, keeping her lying down for a while, and checked her blood pressure while she rested, the pulse oximeter being placed on her opposite finger.

75bpm, 120/80. Everything normal, everything fine. He left the devices in place, however, and then did something strange.

“Could you stand up for me, Rose? Nice and straight, right here by the table.”

There were no questions this time to keep her occupied. Just two sets of eyes staring at her in the small room, watching as she felt the cold sweat start up on her forehead, the shake beginning in her limbs. It was stronger when she stood still, when she couldn’t prowl around. She felt nauseated as the sweat turned to a hot flash and started to soak into the fabric of her shirt, and with it came the panic as she saw the darkness at the corners of her vision.

“Can I sit down please.”

“Not yet, try to hold out a little longer,” the doctor coaxed, inflating the blood pressure cuff once more. She focused on the discomfort on her arm instead of the pounding in her chest and head, the increased breaths. Nausea rose in her throat, bile, bitter, salt from excess saliva.

“Can I sit down. Please,” she said again, not caring that it sounded like begging.

“Nearly there, just a moment longer.”

She didn’t have a moment. She felt her knees quaking, felt the floor rushing up to meet her, but gratefully felt her mother’s hands hurrying to catch her waist and balance her till the doctor finished his data gathering.

80/50. 145bpm.

The monster had a name now. Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. There were hopes she’d just grow out of it, but there was a chance it might be long lasting. In her case it seemed to be at least partly linked to how bendy she was, how loose her skin felt, how stretchy it was, how easily she bruised. That, too, had a name. Ehlers Danlos Syndrome.

What had been a slow appointment was suddenly moving very fast. Referrals were being made, appointments with different doctors at the big hospital in town, and paperwork was being handed to her mother in a thick stack. Informative pages, recommendations for diet, for exercises, safety precautions, warnings, risks. A whole new world was opening up below her and swallowing her whole, and Rose didn’t know how to feel about it.

One thing was certain, however.

She didn’t plan on telling her friends. Or anyone, for that matter.

It would be her little secret.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“...Is it going to hurt?” was Rose’s only question. She felt very small, much smaller than she’d felt at the clinic with her mother. The room here was bigger and more sterile, with strange looking machinery and electronics. She’d asked the same when she had her first EKG earlier, and had been relieved that the most painful part was having the gummy electrodes pulled back off after the painless test was performed. Something about being in a hospital gown and swinging her legs on a different looking exam table just made her feel even more fragile than the long walk through the building had. At least her mom was there with her.

“No, not at all. It might be a little uncomfortable, or a little cold, but there’s no pain,” promised a technician with a smile. She smiled back a little uncertainly, unconvinced. “All we’re going to do is get some pictures of your heart. I promise, an echocardiogram doesn’t hurt. It’s just a paddle with cold jelly, you’ll hold your breath when I tell you to and stay very still, and we’ll see how things look from different angles.”

“And you’ll tell me if I’m going to die or not.”

“No,” he said with a smirk. “I’ll be telling you if you have any issues with your heart valves or not.”

“Same difference.”

“You underestimate just how much the human body can handle before needing intervention,” he chuckled. “C’mon, legs up on the table and get laid back. I’m sorry for having to keep the shirt open, I know it’s embarrassing. Mom, you can see everything, yes?”

“Yes. Rosie if you need to hold my hand, I ca-”

“I’m fine, Mother. Thank you.”

“Well. If you change your mind, I’m right here.”

“Can you see the screen?” he asked Rose. She nodded, then went very still to watch the technician lift a bottle of gel and squeeze a splurt onto the paddle's end instead. “Right. Sorry this will be chilly, just try to bear with it. And-”

“Stay very still,” Rose finished for him as he opened the front of the gown and pressed the paddle to her chest. She hadn’t been watching the screen at first, but when it lit up with a fluttering white and gray form it was hard to ignore. She knew what it was, of course, though not what the technician was looking for. Seeing your own heart pushing blood around, flaring and calming as it cycled pulses, was kind of amazing. There it was, the only thing keeping her alive, and they were checking to see if any potential defects inside of its valves from the EDS were making her sick.

The procedure was quick enough. A roll here or there, a drop down section of the table for him to do further measurements underneath of her as she lay on her side, and soon enough she was done.

“What’s the verdict, am I dying,” Rose said, voice carefully calm and face deadpan. The papers from the physician had said this was a non-deadly condition, that neither of them would kill her, but the concept of damage to a heart valve of all things being real had brought out the morbid part of her brain.

“There’s a bit of a leak,” he admitted. “But your measurements are just fine and within normal ranges. I wouldn’t be too worried about it, but if you start feeling worse or new symptoms we might recheck within the next few years.”

Rose wiped off the gel with the offered cloth and covered back up while the technician spoke with her mother, the words flowing quick and easy as she asked questions and they discussed the findings. Rose herself stared at the blank screen for a moment before setting her hand over her heart, feeling the pulse, remembering how it had looked.

She was fine then.

All the more reason not to make anyone she knew worry.

She informed her friends that it had been a vitamin issue and that she was going to be just fine before changing the subject, getting swept up in conversations about games and comics and music all over again. Same as ever.

Same as always.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Treatment wasn’t much. Increased water consumption, and a stupid amount of salt. Compression stockings, when that alone wasn’t enough. Rose drank gatorade till she could smell it in her dreams, ate pickles and pretzels till salty foods lost their amusement and her mother had to get creative in the kitchen and with the ordering in catalog. Everything was salt and fluids, compression stockings just tight enough they gave her the will to live back. Thankfully they came in black and she could just pretend they were normal stockings, and for anyone just looking in passing, they would be just another part of her wardrobe.

Yet none of it was enough. The weakness persisted, the fatigue, and through it all that awful, stupid racing heart. If the sound of a beating heart could drive a man mad from beneath floorboards then, surely, the persistent throbbing in her ears and the pain in her chest from her own rushing tempo would be enough to drive her mad. Going to the grocery store made her sweat through her clothes, made her vision blur even as she clung to the cart for balance. More than once, she had to go find a deserted aisle to sit down on the floor in, legs stretched out in front of her, waiting for the worst of it to pass as she debated just how much she might regret laying down flat to hurry it along.

Rose assumed this was just how life was going to be. Stockings, salt, water, constantly living on an internal timer to get things done. Annoying, but not much of a burden. She could imagine living her life like this, one way or another. Others did it every day.

Then had come SBurb.

Fire from the sky and the end of the world, rushing, hurrying, breaking the bottle. She hadn’t been wearing her stockings for the day, but was grateful for the opportunities to sit, few and far between as they were. There was plenty reason for her heart to be beating out of her chest then; plenty of scary, inexplicably stressful things were happening. She had entered the medium with grim determination, and set about the task of destroying imps with a bit of glee.

She had to be quick in dispatching them, there was no alternative. Fainting around these things was unthinkable, and she had plenty of stress to get out with her knitting needles. Rose combined aggression with ballet and her own trained limberness for maneuvers that, in a normal situation, she’d never have reason to use.

It was thrilling.

It was-

Gasping and out of breath, Rose settled on her knees and held her chest after her latest kill, needing time to recover. To rest. It was like she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t open her lungs enough. Like she was drowning on dry land. She gagged, saliva thick and sticky from exertion and, somehow, early dehydration. Slowly, she flopped onto her back and threw her legs up against the wall, feeling the ache and throb as the pooled blood rushed back towards her torso and brain.

Maybe she should get her stockings before continuing, given she had no idea what to expect going forward…

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The game up through getting to the meteor had been quite the experience. She’d been able to pace herself somewhat, exerting herself in bouts that she could control better once she’d gotten some thoroughly upgraded weaponry in hand. Now, godtiered and being able to fly, she found she was able to handle being upright longer than usual.

Well.

Mostly.

She still had an affinity for walking normally. Maybe it was because it let her track her internal timer better, a long ingrained pattern she was comfortable with. Maybe it was the fear of falling from height, knowing it wouldn’t kill her but that it would still hurt unless someone caught her. There was also the setback of getting enough fluids and salt.

Gatorade was too much to hope for, but water was doable at least. Salt as a base was also available, but drinking straight salt water would have been anything but subtle.

...Maybe it was time to be honest. Rose was fairly certain that Dave already had an idea something was up, having been around her for some time by then. He always seemed to be watching her carefully, and after a few conversations with Kanaya she’d walked in on, even Kanaya had begun to have a more cautious air in their interactions.

Would that just get worse, if she told everyone?

How would Vriska react to such a thing? Such a weakness? The Seer of Light, waylaid by darkness brought on by standing for too long, she could hear it now. Brought on by sitting upright too long, sometimes. It had progressed in ways that she was frustrated about, spending time reading and trying to figure out how to make compression stockings of the right elasticity out of her god tier outfit in her down time. A dress? Sure! Simple! A garment that would help her out without cutting off all circulation to her legs or being useless? Bit more difficult.

At least Kanaya was content to let her recline whenever she wanted. She never asked, never brought it up. Instead she welcomed the blonde head to her lap, the subtle tug on her hand that meant she was going to slide to sit on the ground against the wall for a time to watch the vast space they were traveling through.

Maybe she would just keep it quiet forever. Or, at least, till after their final battles were done. When there was time to rest, when there were doctors again, Gatorade or something similar, she could get this under control and go back to her plans of dealing with it like she had imagined on Earth. Whatever lay ahead of them could be handled.

She’d keep it quiet. It would be her little secret.

Till she’d fainted in front of everyone, at least.

Another argument had broken out between Karkat and Vriska, Terezi egging on from the side and Dave adding the occasional beatbox for effect much to everyone’s annoyance and amusement in equal measure. Rose and Kanaya were observing and commenting for the most part, following them all up the stairs, but the growing intensity of the clog meant that the foot traffic had come to a stop.

Moments ticked by, then minutes.

Rose felt the shake in her knees, the cold sweat on her brow starting up.

“Dear, are you quite alright? You look pale.”

“I’m fine,” she promised with a smile, looking ahead at the group who took up the stairwell. Surely they’d move any moment. Any time now. Any second. They couldn’t argue forever, not even Karkat and Vriska on a bad day, it would end any time. She just needed to hold on, and then she’d be back upstairs with her book on the sofa, feet up, recovering stealthily yet again.

The argument dragged on, and the pain in her chest started up. Vision blurring, Rose turned her head to glance down the stairs, half turning. Maybe she could go back downstairs and use the restroom or something instead, buy time for them to move while having an excuse on hand so nobody would be suspicious.

“I’m-” she started to say.

Her legs buckled beneath her, and she knew no more.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“See, if you’d just moved your ass instead of backing up into the wall like a cornered meowbeast, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“It’s not like I pushed her! I don’t know who pushed her!”

“Nobody pushed her, she just collapsed, I was right there. We’ve been over this.”

“Well, why did she collapse then!”

“Has she been drinking or something?”

“No, not that I’m aware. She ate earlier, too.”

“Sleeping?”

“Plenty.”

Rose slowly opened her eyes and stared up quietly at the ceiling, the view from the floor at the bottom of the staircase. The argument had a new source now, the squabble more contained than before, but still lively. Kanaya was watching Terezi pull Karkat and Vriska physically apart like she wanted to jump in and do it herself, but she kept her cool hands on Rose’s arm instead, immobilized. Dave had a notebook he was using like a fan over her face, cooling her off, drying the remaining sweat on her brow. He stopped when he realized she was awake, setting it aside and pushing his shades up the bridge of his nose.

She knew that look. Worry. Suspicion. It made her stomach ache a bit with guilt.

“You good now?”

“...Yeah. I fell?”

“Swan dived face first for the concrete, more like.”

Kanaya’s head jerked her direction and she smiled broader, leaning down to hug Rose tight around the shoulders.

“I was so worried! You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No,” she admitted, surprised. “How-”

“I’m quick,” Dave shrugged, glancing to the side. Kanaya pressed a kiss to her cheek before carefully helping her to sit upright. “Hey, yo, shut the fuck up, she’s awake now. Everyone can stop the blame game, new topic after a quick five.”

“Lalonde, what was that about!” Vriska said immediately. “Did you just trip over your own feet?”

“Kanaya said she collapsed,” Terezi sighed. “Not tripped.”

Karkat glowered, but crossed his arms and was quiet for a moment before speaking. “Thanks for not painting the floor with your thinkpan, we’ve got enough problems around here witho- UGH” he grunted, Terezi’s elbow making swift contact with his side, halting his contribution to the subject.

“Are you sick or something?” Terezi asked.

Rose furrowed her brow, looking around at everyone. Looking back to Dave, looking to Kanaya, both of whom briefly exchanged knowing glances. It appeared the jig was up. Now to just let the cat out of the bag properly so it would stop suffocating.

“I fainted,” Rose said.

“No fucking shit,” came Karkat’s helpful response.

“It’s. ...I’ve done it before,” Rose said, trying to measure her words, trying to figure out how to explain quickly not only to Dave but to members of an entirely different species. “On Earth I was sick. I’m still sick.”

“So we just need to get you medicine or something, right?” Dave said.

She shook her head.

“I’m already taking my medicine best I can.”

“Man, if you know how to make meds can you whip up some pepto or somethin’, because I think I’m gonna die if I don’t get hold of some before the next time we eat makeshift Alternian shit,” Dave said. Rose shook her head again.

“Water and salt.”

“What about it?” said Kanaya, rubbing Rose’s upper back when she still looked a bit woozy. Rose accepted the invitation and leaned into her shoulder, hugging her with one arm to give herself a bit more courage.

“That’s the medicine.”

“...I don’t follow.”

Rose groaned and dropped her head against Kanaya’s neck for a moment before sighing and straightening once more.

“I’ve got a condition called POTS.”

“Like-”

“No, not like fucking weed. It’s Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome.”

“What the fuck does all that mean? Are you contagious?” Karkat asked, getting another sharp elbow from Terezi, hard enough he slapped at her arm afterwards a few times in annoyance. “Will you knock that the fuck off?!”

“Don’t you think she would’ve mentioned something if she was?”

“SHE’S A FUCKING ALIEN! How do we know if it’s not contagious to US?” he argued, taking a quick step back to avoid yet another elbow coming his direction. Vriska caught him around the neck and scrubbed her knuckles deep against his scalp till he cringed.

“Preeeeeeeetty sure she would’ve said something that important before no- YOW!”

More than a little annoyed, Terezi yanked a section of Vriska’s hair till she released the thrashing Karkat, then quickly slapped a hand Karkat’s direction to keep him at bay.

“What’s it mean,” she said simply.

“It means my body is stupid and my brain doesn’t get enough blood to it when I’m upright. It all goes to my legs and can’t get back up to my head fast enough,” she said. “My heart races very badly and I feel like I’m dying and I get very weak. I get tired. I get sick. And if I’m not careful, I faint.”

“So it wasn’t a vitamin problem,” Dave mumbled. “Fuckin’ knew it.”

Kanaya frowned a bit, lifting a hand up to stroke a section of Rose’s bangs away from her face, to stroke down the side of her cheek with her thumb. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner? We could have watched out for you.”

“I didn’t want to hold anyone back,” Rose shrugged. “I thought I could handle it. And I didn’t want-”

“UGH great! Now we’ve got a whole person who’s useless to cope with!” Vriska shouted, rubbing her eyes with one hand.

“That,” Rose said flatly, more than a little annoyed.

“She’s not useless, she’s sick,” Dave said.

“SAME DIFFERENCE! It’s a weakness! A BIG weakness! We’re heading towards a huge fight and we can’t count on you at all now!”

Rose set her jaw. “I can handle myself. I just have to be quick an-”

“You can’t handle yourself, you just fell down the stairs from standing still! What if you collapse during battle, huh? What then? I’m sure as shit not sweeping in to save you, and we need all the god tier powers we can get to be FUNCTIONAL during a fight!” Vriska continued, yanking her hair free from Terezi’s hand to stalk closer, staring down where Rose sat, arms crossed. “What can you do? Ranged attacks while sitting down?”

Releasing Kanaya, Rose stood up quickly, immediately regretting it when her vision swam again. She braced herself and bent her knees before locking them in a wider stance for balance. It was a weak spot. A point of pride was that she’d come this far just fine as it was, and now that the cat was out of the bag her worst fears were coming true.

“Hey, easy, don’t go down again,” Dave said from behind her.

“Shut up, I’m fine!” Rose insisted. “What do you want me say, Vriska! That I promise I won’t collapse? You don’t know what I’m capable of in a fight! You don’t know what options I have on hand! Don’t discredit me just because I have this bullshit to deal with. If I can work around it, so can you. If you can’t then which of us is weaker in the end, me or you?”

It was spoken as a challenge, pure and simple. Tension was thick in the air as they stared each other down, Rose with her hands balled into fists, Vriska with crossed arms. Everyone was waiting for something to give, for the other shoe to drop.

“...Whatever,” Vriska muttered, the first to break position. She turned around and lifted her arms behind her head to stretch as she went up the stairs. “Humans are so fragile and booooooooring! Terezi, come help with dinner, I don’t know what to aim for this time.”

A collective breath was released. Terezi smirked a bit.

“That was pretty good, Lalonde. Normally she’d have kept going, but I think you got her in a corner now.”

“TEREZI, COME ON, I’M HUNGRY!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming, keep your rumble spheres tethered!” she shouted, before turning with a laugh like broken glass to run up the stairs after her friend.

Karkat, alone with the trio, watched Terezi run off before looking back towards Rose. She shuddered, then quickly sat back down on the ground and flopped onto her back with a heavy sigh.

“I’m fine!” she was quick to say. “Just. Need to be down for a second. Just a second. Holy shit.”

“What, think you were gonna get into a catfight?” Dave asked, picking up the notebook again to sway over her face a few times just in case it was useful again.

“Yes!”

“Would’ve been funny,” he admitted.

“Would’ve been hilarious if this is what finally got us at each other’s throats,” she said sarcastically.

“How do you feel now that everyone knows what has been wrong?” Kanaya asked, stretching her legs out before scooting closer to Rose’s side and laying back as well. “Relieved?”

“Yes. ...Though. What if she’s right…?”

“First time for everything,” Dave shrugged. “Here, lift your heads up,” he instructed as he dropped the notebook and instead lifted his cape, scooting it in a wad beneath their heads. He settled opposite Rose and stretched out as well, one knee bent up so he could tap his foot occasionally, arms splayed out.

Karkat waited for a moment before Dave patted the open space in the circle, then came closer and flopped down as well, hands on his stomach.

“...So you’re SURE you’re not contagious.”

“Dude, with how often she swaps spit with Kanaya I’m pretty sure you’re safe just breathin’ the same air if she’s unaffected,” Dave pointed out.

“Well, good. ...Sorry for asking earlier,” he muttered. “I just didn’t know what to think! Lalonde being sick out of nowhere is-”

“It was rather obvious, if you watched her closely. Something was wrong even if I didn’t know what,” Kanaya said. Dave nodded as well, making Rose groan and cover her face with her hands.

“How obvious was I?”

“Real obvious,” Dave snorted. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve got your back now, and we’ll have your back durin’ a fight. You know that.”

“I’ll slice anything that comes for you if you go down,” Karkat said helpfully. Given how much work he’d done hoping to be a threshcutioner before,

Kanaya reached for Rose’s hand as it came away from her face and gave it a squeeze. “We all do.”

“Yeah,” Rose sighed. “Yeah. I know. You’re right.”

She had backup now. And a while to think of how to explain everything to the others when they met up with them.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It felt like years ago, that final battle. Maybe because it had been years by then. It was kind of hard to keep track sometimes, really. She’d held her own, had backup, and they had all come out on top. They’d made a new world, populated it, let it grow and come back to live amongst everyone. She’d been hopeful that after all that, after all the advancements, there would be progress in her own disorders. Treatment options beyond salt and water, beyond stockings.

The fact there wasn’t, that it was still a chronic illness, that there was no magical cure in a special pill to take even after all of that, felt a bit like a slap in the face. Somehow, despite everything, having that bit of hope crushed had been enough to send her into a depression deep enough that it took months for friends and family to help pull her out of it.

There was no ‘better’. There was just coping. And she had to be okay with that.

She had options at least, thankfully. She could fly to get places faster than walking, even if she was on a harsher timer than before. She could drive. Her home was comfortable and easily accommodated a wheelchair that she could use outside of the home as well, half the time pushing herself along and the other half of the time being pushed by Kanaya when she got too tired. Life was good in many ways, even if there was no miracle to be had.

She was alive, married to the love of her life. She had friends and family surrounding her. She had aspirations for a long future, and hobbies that kept her plenty busy. It was enough for her.

When Kanaya leaned down behind her to kiss the side of her neck, sharp fangs barely there on her skin, Rose pulled the brakes on her chair and reached back to stroke Kanaya’s hair fondly. Her wife sat down beside her on the dock, overlooking the vast lake, and squinted out over the shimmering surface to make out where their friends were. A boat was heading this way and that trailing a water skier behind on a tow line, while two people flew above it keeping an eye on whoever was below kicking up wake behind them.

“Are you sure you didn’t want to participate?” Kanaya asked, amused when the skier went down into the water and was pulled up by the two flying lifeguards. “They said they had an innertube as well. You could sit and be towed.”

“Mmm. I’m fine,” Rose said with a smile. “Maybe next time, I don’t much feel like getting wet today. What about you? It looks plenty safe. Roxy and John wouldn’t let anyone drown.”

“I’d rather be near you,” she shrugged. “Perhaps we can have a turn in the boat instead later. We could take a tour around the lake without getting wet.”

“I love how your mind works,” Rose chuckled. She stretched a bit, then pushed the legs of her chair straight out, propping her legs straight out in front of her with a grateful sigh, pooled blood circulating somewhat easier again.

The skier was, apparently, Karkat. At least that’s what the shouting and cursing indicated as he struggled in the air with the duo holding him up safely. He dropped back into the lake with a splash, only to be carefully fished out again and deposited on the boat. Rose snorted a laugh before giggling at just how silly the situation looked from a distance, knowing she’d hear all about the details of it later from everyone involved. Kanaya looked at her with a soft smile before leaning against the side of the chair, nudging Rose’s leg till she stroked at her head and horns as one would pet a cat.

“I’m so glad to hear that sound…”

“Laughter? I’ve laughed a lot recently, haven’t I?” Rose asked, a little confused.

“Yes. You’ve been in such a good mood lately, compared to before. Every time I hear you laugh or see you smile it’s like sunshine.”

Rose leaned forward to press a kiss between Kanaya’s horns, making her wife hum softly, blissfully.

“You know just what to say to make an already good day better.”

Somehow, Rose felt, every day was just more proof that everything was going to be okay now.

((If you would like to learn more about POTS please visit this website for information!

http://www.dysautonomiainternational.org/page.php?ID=30))

[followtheowls]

For a fic prompt, could you possibly write something about Ezra being injured and the medbay and Kanan and Hera are waiting for him to wake up/are worrying. Thank you so much :)

Thanks for this prompt <3 I also used it as a part of my ficlet series on ao3! I hope you like it

tw: medical talk (nothing to gory or graphic though), non graphic mention of injury

fandom: star wars rebels

characters: Kanan Jarrus, Hera Syndulla, Ezra Bridger

Words: 1.7k

The Medbay was not a quiet place, Kanan decided. He took in his surroundings from his place in his chair, in the corner of the small Medbay that was designated for waiting. He could hear the medics bustle around chatting and moving from one patient to another, the medical droids zooming around looking for their next task or procedure, and the medical equipment and machinery hum and creak while they carried out their functions. He could hear the beeping and chattering of binary from the droids, and the medics’ attempt at a hushed conversation. To Kanan, it seemed ironic that a place for healing and resting would be so incredibly noisy, but then again, he was probably more sensitive to it than most. He found that the loss of his vision had forced his other senses to adapt and subsequently become more sensitive to compensate for the loss of his eyesight.

The scent of bacta was thick in the air. So thick, in fact, Kanan could feel it burn his nostrils as he breathed in. The scent provided almost an instant headache, and his stomach churned as it reminded him of agonizing memories, in this very Medbay, from his recovery after returning from Malachor. Nothing eased the effect of the smell, it was something that was burned into his memory unchangeable. Even breathing through his mouth was only a half solution, the odor was so saturated and overwhelmed the air that he could almost taste it. Kanan wondered how the medics were able to work here all day. They probably become desensitized to it, he thought, too much time spent alongside it to let it bother them anymore. Kanan hoped he wouldn’t have to spend enough time in this overwhelming environment to even get near the point of getting used to it.

Kanan felt like a raw nerve, exposed and vulnerable. There was a lot to try to keep track of through the Force, and though he had grown accustomed to using the Force to guide himself through life, right now it was taking extra concentration to center himself. He was feeling everything too keenly. He jumped as he felt someone brush his side accidentally, sitting down in the seat next to him. Hera, he thought. He felt her hand slip into his and squeeze. He returned the gesture, squeezing back with equal pressure. He waited for her to speak first. 

“The medical droid says if all has gone well in surgery that they should be finished soon. He’ll probably be put in a bacta tank for a day or two, depending on how well the surgery goes. They didn’t have any other information to give us.” She stated quietly. Kanan just nodded and tightened his grip on her hand. They sat in silence for several minutes, and Kanan once again became ambushed by the chaos of the medbay.

He prided himself on his ability to remain calm in stressful situations, something that had been hammered into him during his upbringing at the Jedi Temple, but, at the moment, he could feel himself begin to drift from those teachings. Somewhere in Medbay, his padawan, his son in everything but blood, was lying broken and exposed on a table in an operating room, with several surgeons working hard to save his life. He needed to find his balance and his center, but he didn’t know how to do that when he was teetering on the edge of losing everything. 

He should’ve been on the mission, Kanan scolded himself. He should have been there to look out for Ezra, to protect him from what he hadn’t learned yet or from the hate of the Empire. Force knows no one ever did that for Ezra before Kanan was around. Kanan could even fathom imaging the possibility of losing Ezra now. That’s not how it was supposed to go, children were not supposed to go before their parents, it’s against the natural laws of the universe. 

Hera spoke up suddenly. “Stop,” she said sharply. “I know you. Don’t do that.”

“What?” Kanan responded, genuinely confused.

“You’re blaming yourself. I can see it all over your face. This is not your fault or my fault. The Empire. They did this,” she hissed, her anger a white hot presence in the Force. He just hummed in agreement and stroked his thumb over the back of her hand.

Several more minutes passed, it was hard to tell how long they sat there not speaking, just waiting. It could’ve been five minutes or an hour. Kanan really couldn’t tell. He felt Hera stiffen next to him and sit up straighter, and through the noise of the Medbay, he could hear footsteps getting louder and moving towards them. Together they both stood to greet the medic.

“He’s alive and he made it through the surgery. It was touch and go for a while, and his heart arrested once on the table, but we were able to successfully revive him and repair his internal injuries,” explained the medic. Kanan let out a shaky breath he didn't even know he was holding, and slid back into his seat, nauseated and tortured by the knowledge that his padawan’s heart had stopped. 

Hera’s voice shook as she found the strength to speak. “Thank you so much. Will there be any long term effects? Any lasting issues we need to know about? And can we see him?”

“He will, hopefully, make a full recovery,” responded the medic. “There is a very small possibility that there could be some neurological deficits caused by lack of oxygen to his brain during the time that his heart stopped. But, in my professional opinion, I think that possibility is extremely low due to how quick we were able to restart his heart, but we won’t know until he wakes up. Otherwise, he is young and strong, and it is expected that he should recover just fine. though he will need to take it easy and rest for a few weeks. Right now, we have him immersed in a bacta tank to ensure a speedy recovery. I can take you both to see him if you like.”

Hera let out a cry of relief and happiness and she bent down to tackle Kanan in a desperate embrace. He returned it with equal ferocity, almost numb with relief. If the situation wasn’t so dire and serious, Kanan maybe might have made a joke and pointed out just how mom Hera was being. It would have been funny if the situation wasn’t so, just, not funny. The tears were evident in Hera’s voice when she responded that yes, they would like to go be with him, but Kanan was not one to judge. He knew if he had functioning tear ducts, he would’ve been bawling minutes ago.

The medic led them out the door and into a big open room adjacent to where they just waited. Kanan could sense a few medical technicians and droids fluttering around doing their jobs, but his focus immediately snapped to the muted-but-thankfully-still-there presence of Ezra that was emitting from what was presumably inside the bacta tank in the center of the room. While Kanan was his usual brand of stoic and silent, next to him Hera let out a half-suppressed, choked gasp. The medic respectfully excused himself to give them space, telling them he would be in his office if they needed anything.

Beside him, Kanan heard Hera let out another water breath, and he felt her struggle in the Force to contain herself and her emotions. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into his side, prompting her to lean into him. It was just as much for his support as it was for hers. It would be okay, they could be unbalanced together. 

Hera shook under his arm, and he felt her lose a bit of the emotional battle she had been fighting. He heard the small plops of tears as they slipped off her chin and made contact with their clothing. He squeezed her a little tighter and whispered reassurances that Ezra would be okay, trying his best to be comforting, but certainly feeling like he was failing. Kanan was hovering between a mix of not knowing what to say and navigating his own residual numbness, shock, and terror from the terrifying moments when he hadn’t known if he still had a living son or not.

After a minute or two of silence between them, Hera, always the most verbal with her emotions, spoke up. “Kanan, he - he,” she was cut off involuntarily by a forceful sob. She attempted to gather herself and start again. “He - just - he looks s-so young,” she whispered, her words choppily cut apart by sobs. “And so f-fragile, in there. The tank is so b-big and - and he just looks so small.” She finished her sentence, and abandoned any premise of maintaining her composure by dissolving into quiet, but powerful tears. She turned away from the sight of their kid in the tank and leaned into him fully, pressing her wet face into his sweater. 

Kanan couldn’t or didn’t have the capacity to imagine what she was looking at. He couldn’t bring his mind to produce that image for him. But, for the very first time in the eight months since becoming blind, he didn’t actively wish for his sight back. At this point, Kanan had mostly accepted his blindness, and had learned to lead his life without sight. But, typically the most emotional moments with his family were the moments he truly wished for his vision. But not right now. He knew that the scene in front of them would be seared into Hera’s memory for life, but something deep inside him, he realized guiltily, was relieved he couldn’t see it. Relieved, because, maybe, he hoped, this way the image wouldn't haunt him. That he wouldn’t go to sleep at night and dream of it, or freeze in the midst of a firefight for fear of seeing it again. Just in that fleeting moment, he felt grateful. Grateful that he didn’t have to see what Hera was seeing, Ezra hurt and broken, and suspended in bacta while connected to a million wires. Grateful that Ezra was going to recover. Grateful for more moments with his family.

[wrenhyperfixates]

Of All the Places

Chapter 10

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: The time has come for Loki to tell you how he feels, and he insist on doing it right. Now he just has to hope that you feel the same way he does. Chapter Warnings: zip, zilch, zero A/N: This was a really fun chapter to write, and I’m so excited to share it. Want to tell me what you thought of it or what you think will happen next? I’d love to hear it! Updates every Friday. Happy reading, all :) 

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​ @marvelousdaydreams​ @parkastoria​ @lokistan​ @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs​

✥ Start at Beginning ✥ | ← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

His promise to John was one Loki intended to keep. He’d gotten hardly any sleep these past few nights, trying to think of the perfect way to tell you how he truly feels. And, he had to confess, he already missed your warm mortal body snuggling up against him while slept, and waking up to your arms wrapped around him, safe and content. Well, that was all terribly off topic, and Loki refocused on the task at hand, which, in addition to figuring out his dilemma, was not burning breakfast.

The atmosphere in the kitchen was very awkward right now. Papa had stepped out for a minute, so it was just Loki and Mama. They hadn’t spoken since the confrontation in the barn, and he wasn’t sure if it was because she still hated him or felt bad about what she said. He sighed, knowing if he were to ever be with you, it would certainly hurt your relationship with your mother more. It pained his heart to think that you’d never get to meet his mother. That he’d never get to see her again, either. The thought gave him all the confidence he needed to do what he knew he must.

“I am sorry,” he said.

“What?” she said, utterly surprised. Then more hostilely, she added, “What did you do.”

“I have, perhaps, not been as polite to you as I should have, and for that I am sorry. But I need you to know that I mean it when I say I would never do anything to hurt this family. I could not live with myself if I did.”

“You know what James always said?” Mama asked after a moment of silence, her voice breaking and tears welling in her eyes. “He said everyone deserved a second chance. That we’re all just trying to do the best we can, and we shouldn’t judge anyone too harshly. I’m thankful every day that he wasn’t as cynical as I am. So I’m sorry too, for not giving you a chance.”

Loki fetched her a tissue to dry her her eyes. He never had been very good at dealing with emotions and was unsure of what the correct procedure here was. In the end, he just bowed his head and gave her a moment to compose herself.

“I know what you’ve been planning, and though you didn’t quite ask for it,” she began once her tears were dry, “you have my blessing. I really do want my babies to be happy, it’s just so hard to let go.”

“I understand,” he said. “And thank you. My sole mission in life shall be to make them happy.”

Mama gave a sad little smile, almost like she did not believe him. Or perhaps she was just upset for herself at having to move on. Either way, he was grateful they’d come to an understanding. Hopefully a lasting one this time.

“Loki, one more thing,” she said.

“Yes?”

“Your waffles are burning.”

He quickly saved the batch before they were ruined completely. Thankfully, Papa came back to help him soon. Though they were a great deal harder than pancakes, they still came out pretty well, making Loki’s chest swell with pride that he was assimilating so well. He smiled to himself, thinking how this could be the rest of his life with you. Maybe the two of you could even get your own plot of land one day, right near this one. This whole mentality of thinking optimistically was much easier than constantly preparing for the worst, Loki decided.

“Morning, Loki. Did you make those?” you asked, spying the plate of waffles. “They smell great.”

“Thank you,” he blushed. “Would you like to taste one?”

You nodded, and he impaled a small piece on a fork. He held it to your lips, and you ate it, the interaction making his heart stutter.

“It’s delicious! You’re quite the chef, if you ask me,” you complimented him, grabbing the whipped cream and syrup to put on the table.

“Again, thank you, my darling. I’m sure it’s nothing special, though.”

“Sounds to me like you should try it, too,” you said, mimicking his actions from before and feeding him. Needless to say, his cheeks went bright red. “See? Delicious.”

“Morning guys,” John said, walking in. “Congratulations, Loki. I’m glad you finally did it.”

Loki started motioning for him to shut up, immediately understanding that John thought your behavior was due to him telling you how he felt. Alas, that was just how the two of you behaved with each other. Though, perhaps it was good, and he should see it as a sign that you reciprocated his feelings.

“Finally did what?” you asked, completely perplexed.

“Oh, uh, just making waffles. Big step up the breakfast ladder,” John said, giving Loki a subtle thumbs up.

“Indeed! That’s it,” Loki heaped onto the cover up. “In fact, we should eat them before they get cold.”

He shepherded both of you to the table where the rest of the family joined you. He could tell you were all being genuine when you said how much you enjoyed the food. Lies were his specialty, after all, and he couldn’t spot a single one. Except his entire reason for being there, obviously. There was always that untruth hanging in the air, ruining what would otherwise be bringing him bliss.

“Sorry about this morning,” John said as they headed out into the fields later that day. “Hope I didn’t spoil anything.”

“No need to worry. It was a close one, but we covered it up just fine,” Loki replied. “In truth, I have not even found the right words to tell them. And believe me, I’ve been wracking my brain.”

“Well, maybe that’s the issue.”

“What is?”

“That you’re thinking so hard. Just speak from the heart.”

“Perhaps, but the scene must be set just right. I insist upon having that planned out, at least.”

“Fair enough. Don’t worry, we’ll think of something.”

They set about the usual chores, and Loki thought about the situation the whole time. It wasn’t until they were heading back in for the evening that inspiration struck. You were waiting for them on the porch, waving as they came in. Besides the fact that it was rather picturesque, it made him realize you'd had some important moments there. Like that day when you went to the creek, the first time he’d really felt close to you, it had started with you talking on the porch. When you’d almost kissed the day of the party, that was on the porch, too. Perhaps it was just the place to start the next phase of your relationship.

“John,” he whispered as you walked inside. “I believe I have the perfect idea.”

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

“What do you think, little one? Is it perfect?”

“Hmm,” Matt said in reply, then adjusted a napkin ever so slightly. “There. Now it is!”

“Thank you. Everything must be just right for tonight.”

“And it will be,” Ana said, laying a comforting hand on Loki’s shoulder.

“She’s right,” John added, coming out of the house and placing a kiss on his wife’s cheek. “You planned it out all week.”

“I know, but these nerves will not settle.”

“Well, maybe it’s time to just go for it.”

“He’s right,” Ana encouraged. “Once you do it, there’ll be nothing left to worry about.”

“I suppose you are right. No time like the present.”

He shook himself out, feeling more nervous than he had in his whole life. Even with the encouragement of his friends, he wasn’t sure he could do this. Though, the fact that he even had friends did give him a boost of confidence. On the flip side of that, he was saddened by the fact he could not share this with his family. Because even after all this time, he still thought of them as that. Well, Thor and Frigga anyway; Odin, not so much.

“You can do this, Loki!” Matt cheered, hugging Loki’s legs.

He fondly smiled down at the boy and pat his head. “Thank you, little one.”

“And don’t forget, no one can resist a god,” John said with a wink after Ana and Matt were gone, then headed in himself.

Loki waited a minute before going in, too. As he traveled the halls to your room to invite you down, he recalled all the time he’d spent in the house. Before he came here and met all of you, he was convinced he was doomed. But now, he thought happiness was possible again. He’d been so broken, but you’d healed him with your gentle touches and kind words.

This world around him, he owed all to you. You’d showed him a way to live he’d never even considered before, extended the offer of a place in your home to him. He deeply wished he could do the same for you, raise you to the level of the gods in Asgard. He wanted to show you the gleaming, golden city, give you a tour of the place where he grew up. It was pointless, though, for he knew it could never be.

“Darling,” he said, knocking on your door. You opened it up, and he tried to calm his wild heart. “Do you suppose you could meet me on the porch in, say, ten minutes?”

“Oh! Yeah, sure. What for?”

“You will see,” he smiled before going back down to check over everything one final time.

After giving everything a once over, Loki conjured a bouquet of your favorite flowers on a whim. It felt almost strange to use his powers after keeping them hidden so long. It came back to him rather easily, even so. He hoped that one day he would be able to show you all the tricks he could do. To amaze you with magic out of your wildest dreams. If tonight went well, he was certain he would.

“Loki. I’m here. I-” you paused, taking in the set up on the porch. “What is all this?”

He gulped, hoping he didn’t go overboard with the twinkle lights and lanterns. Your family had said that it wasn’t too much, but maybe they were wrong. For once, your face was unreadable. Although, maybe that was just because he was going through a million emotions of his own.

“It’s for you. I was hoping we could dine together this evening,” he told you, presenting the flowers, which you gratefully accepted.

“Of course we can. But, if you don’t mind my asking, why just the two of us?”

“To be perfectly clear, my darling, I like you. I like you as more than just a friend, and I want to be more than that. So, I suppose this is me asking you on a date.”

“Then, this is me accepting.”

You both stood there grinning like idiots for a minute before he cleared his mind. He pulled out a chair for you and then sat in his own. Papa had been enlisted to help Loki cook one of your favorite meals. You raved about how good it was, and Loki had never felt lighter. It was like he was floating on air. The dessert, too, you thoroughly enjoyed. Everything was going swimmingly, but Loki was still not satisfied with his confession when there was so much else he wanted to say to you.

“My darling,” he began, circling around to your side of the table. You got up, too, and invited him to sit on the porch swing. “I must admit, I do not think it sufficient that I have not completely expressed how I feel. You see, when I first came here, I was so lost. But then there was you, so kind, so accepting. You became my direction, the only place I want to be, regardless of where I was before all this. You’ve said before that you do not think your life would be complete with me in it. Well I have yet to tell you that I feel exactly the same way, but I do. More than I can even express.”

You whispered his name, and he yours in reply. It was both a question and an invitation, full of desire and longing as his hand cupped your cheek. He leaned in towards you. A part of him did not want to do this until after he’d shared the whole truth, something he’d originally planned on doing tonight. But right now, the overwhelming majority of thoughts in his head were urging him to follow through with this. The second before your lips were going to meet, the front door slammed open.

“I thought you two might like to come inside,” Mama said. “It’s going to rain, and it’s getting awful late.”

Whether the part about the rain was true or not, Loki did not know, but either way he did not appreciate the interruption. After all, sitting on the porch you did have protection from the elements. He thought she was okay with him dating you, but apparently not. It didn’t particularly matter though, since he wasn’t going to call her out on it.

“Thank you,” he said instead. “I guess we should be heading in then.”

You nodded and began the trek up to your rooms. How he wished you could have finished that moment on the porch, but it was too late now. You bid each other goodnight, and he cast a longing glance over his shoulder at you. Before his hand could touch the knob of his door, you spun him back around and placed a kiss to his lips. It was hasty and sloppy, but it was still perfect.

“Goodnight, Loki,” you whispered breathlessly and leaving him in a daze.

He flopped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, quietly laughing to himself once he fully processed what had happened. Tonight had gone better than he ever could have imagined. Except for one thing. He realized he never told you the truth about who he was. His heart sank, thinking how he might ruin what he’d just gained if he did come clean now. But he knew he must. And soon. Because if there was one thing he’d truly meant, it was that he never wanted to hurt you. He could only hope that telling you wouldn’t do just that.

[aelaer]

The Blood in My Veins: Pt 4

Heyyyy I'm back. Now that one of my big fic projects is done/being rolled out I can concentrate on getting this finished (as well as other prompts). Here are the earlier parts if you can't remember what happened in this long-running prompt fic, since my last update was like, the summer.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Prompt (via @ironstrangeprompts that I can’t tag for whatever reason qq): Kidnapped to play doctor for a still unseen other prisoner; Stephen realizes there is only one person on the planet who would have palladium in their blood.

The Warnings: Okay guys, I want to cover all bases for this part and all parts henceforth. The bad guy I've written here really really sucks. He's a complete asshole. Part of his assholeness can include behaviors such as racism, sexism, homophobic remarks, religious bigotry, and overall just being a terrible human being. This terrible human being is not a typical representative of his nation/culture and is very thankfully fictional. There's plenty of Canon-Typical Violence around, too. All of the above are not be in this specific part but could be in future parts (I'm writing this as I go so I truly don't know, I just know he’s a dickwad). I didn't know this section was gonna happen until I finished Part 2, for instance, otherwise I'd have put a note at the beginning. I'd consider the fic a heavy teen fic, if you're looking for a rating, so it shouldn't get to graphical violence beyond what you'd see in high teen rated content. Also, there's going to be Medical Procedures in the future, though more clinical rather than graphic. Hopefully that covers everything, please ask me anything if you have a question.

I always put these longer writings on tumblr into "read more" cuts, but the mobile app does not always work correctly if you're looking at the original post from my tumblr, so I apologise for the length if you're on the app and viewing the original and said cut is not working. Still unbetaed, all errors are mine.

--------------------------

Part Four: Seeing Red Again

Another three days passed with little change in Stephen’s schedule. He went for his sleep shift at 12:30 a.m. New York time, and was woken up by one of the others between 5:20 to 5:30 a.m. It wasn't enough time for even two full complete sleep cycles, but everyone there—perhaps with exception to Steffen Baar, who was a chemist—had gone through grueling schedules during medical school and residency. So they were, in some ways, used to it.

After waking up, he had fifteen minutes to shower, shave, and change into the clothing about his size, provided for by his captors. From there, he then got to work. His sleep shift ended about three hours before dinner came—about 8:30 a.m. New York time—and a small snack arrived at what he assumed was this place's midnight, but was 2 p.m. according to his watch. Breakfast came twelve hours after dinner, at 8:30 p.m. in New York, and he went to bed again half an hour after midnight. Apparently while he slept, another snack break came for those awake.

The one small blessing in all of this was that the people holding them realized the power of caffeine and provided black tea and coffee every time they brought them food. He didn't think there were any cameras in the showers or toilets, either, which was—hopefully true. There was nothing obvious and, truth be told, he didn't really want to look much further for evidence.

Throughout his waking day, Stephen largely helped prep samples for blood analysis. He tried to strategize with Summer about how to best utilize their resources, should a surgery be required, but they had little to go on. They had yet to receive better X-rays of their patient—of Tony Stark, which still baffled Stephen—so much of their planning was about logistics.

"Doctors in the United States are required to complete a surgical rotation in their third year of med school," Stephen said, "so Jada will know basic surgical procedures. Do you need to do the same in the UK?"

"Yes," Summer answered. "All doctors go through the two-year Foundation Programme which always includes training in general surgery. So Dr Mahajan will be able to assist us as well."

"They can serve as our nurses and techs," Stephen muttered. "But what about Dr Baar?"

Summer pursed her lips together. "No medical training—but I would rather have him on hand than not. If we said we can't use him…"

Stephen grimaced and nodded. "Point. He can certainly hold a retractor." He blew out a breath. "We'll need a heart-lung machine. Those aren't easy to come by."

"None of this machinery is," she pointed out, jutting her chin to the advanced machinery scattered around the room. "I don't think that will be an issue for us. Whoever these people are, they have resources."

He pursed his lips together. "We also need an anesthesiologist."

She paused at that and sighed. "Yes. Yes, we need one of those. Unfortunately, I think we're going to be working with someone on their team if the surgery happens."

Stephen made a face. "What makes you think that?"

"When they first showed me the X-rays, I told them I would need another surgeon for the spinal area—you—and an anesthesiologist. They only spoke about finding me a surgeon, so they must have their own medical team that includes one."

He sighed. "Of course they do. He better be competent."

Summer shrugged. "Not much we can do about it. And there's not much more we can plan on this hypothetical surgery until I have better X-rays."

And so that ended that discussion and, three days later, there were no changes on that end. No new X-rays had come in, so both he and the other surgeon were stuck helping prepare samples and input data. And Stephen hadn't been so bored in years.

One wouldn't think that being captive would be boring, especially if one was doing medical work during that time. But when said medical work was repetitive lab work he hadn't done since med school? And doing it for about fifteen hours a day for three days straight with no music, no reading, no nothing to help bring some distraction or variety to his work? It was absolutely mind-numbing. A small part of him wasn't entirely sure if he could survive like this for—how long did Jada said Stark had to live without a cure or intervention? Two months? He couldn't do this for two months. He was going out of his mind after three days.

It was about halfway through his shift on the fourth day that he regretted ever thinking that he was bored.

He was typing up results from various tests performed by Jada when the door to the room was suddenly slammed open. Startled, Stephen immediately turned towards the sound, only to see five men enter, all of them with guns pointed to the rest of the room. Beside him, Jada immediately threw her hands on top of her head, and he quickly followed suit.

"Come quietly! Do not fight!" said one of the men. Stephen couldn't even begin to guess his accent; maybe it was Eastern European? Russian? Former Soviet bloc in Asia? Somewhere in that rather wide region of the world, which wasn't particularly helpful information considering there were some twenty to thirty countries there.

Summer was the doctor currently asleep, though looking over his shoulder, Stephen saw that she had woken up to the sound and was pushing herself up. But he couldn't look at her or the other doctors long as he was grabbed by one of the men and forced to walk. The gun the man carried quickly negated any ideas of retaliation.

They were led down a hall; he could see Steffen, Meera, and Jada in front of him, all being led in the same rough manner he was going through. The walk itself wasn't very long, perhaps a minute, but to Stephen it felt like every second was dragging. Despite his best efforts, his heart was starting to race at this new development.

The man with Steffen finally stopped in front of a door and unlocked it, then shoved the chemist inside. Within seconds, Stephen was at the door and being pushed forward himself. He took a quick look around, as much as he could without moving much: a large room with concrete walls and no windows, just like where he and the other doctors were being kept. Cot in the corner. Table with a computer and covered in bits of wires and electronics that he couldn't begin to label. Two other men armed with enormous guns—some sort of automatic rifles—and then one man who was crossing his arms and staring at him and his fellow doctors with a look that immediately put Stephen on edge. This man, this man radiated the air of a person in charge.

And then there was him. The famous Tony Stark, or Iron Man as he was calling himself these days. He looked like a former shadow of himself, being several pounds thinner and bearing a sickly pallor that Stephen immediately noticed, even during these circumstances.

A look of surprise was upon Stark's hollow face, but even as Stephen focused more upon him, it was quickly replaced by the cool anger of a man biting his tongue.

All five doctors were maneuvered to face Stark in a line before being forced to their knees. Stephen bit his lip to hold back a grunt of pain from his knees hitting the concrete floor.

"You say you are 'calling my bluff' with your medical team," said the man. He pushed himself off the wall and passed out of Stephen's line of sight. "Here they are." He started at Stephen's right as he went through the doctors. "Steffen Baar, chemist." A step closer. "Jada Ferguson, hematologist." Another step, and he heard Doctor Mahajan inhale sharply. "Meera Mahajan, pathologist."

Another step, and the man was behind him. To Stephen's utter horror, he felt cold metal press against the back of his head. "Stephen Strange, neurosurgeon." The metal then left his head and he heard another step. "Summer Weston, cardiothoracic surgeon." Another step, and he could see the man in the corner of his eye again, this time on his left.

Tony Stark kept his lips pressed in a tight line as their captor went through the line. When he finished, the billionaire swallowed and looked at them all. "Good job keeping me alive this long, docs," he said.

"Not good enough, Stark," the man snapped. "Their solution is only a band aid. They give you but a few more weeks. They are called the best doctors in the world, and they cannot yet make a cure?"

Stephen forcefully held back his retort regarding the man's utter ignorance. It was an outright miracle they found any sort of solution as quickly as they did to delay the spread!

Stark, it seemed, agreed with him, and had no such reservations with holding back. "That's insane, Yusifov. It takes teams of doctors months, if not years to create what you're looking for."

He couldn't see it, but Stephen could almost feel the sneer from their captor, this Yusifov. "In that case, you don't need this many doctors, do you?" A couple steps and he was again behind Stephen, further to the right. "I'm no doctor, but as far as I can tell, these two both look at blood and try to fix the problem. Neither of them fixed it, not fully. So who do you want to keep, Stark? The black American or the Indian Brit? One less woman won't make a difference."

Stephen dared a glance to his right when he heard quick breathing. Doctor Mahajan was visibly shaking and starting to hyperventilate; to her right, Doctor Ferguson was quiet, but her lips trembled and tears pricked her eyes.

Stark stepped forward, and several guns rose at the action. He stopped but held his ground, raising his hands. "Don't do this."

"Why not?" the man retorted. "You refuse to work because you are dying. They have failed you and one will pay the price. Perhaps both; they are both from lesser races."

As Stephen processed the fact that he heard a comment like that in fucking 2010, Doctor Mahajan's breathing accelerated into full on hyperventilation. His medical mind noticed it immediately.

But another was quicker to the draw. "Breathe through your nose, Meera," Summer said lowly. "Try to inhale for one-one thousand, then exhale through pursed lips. You can—"

"Shut up!"

Doctor Weston was smacked on the back of her head hard enough to send her sprawling to the floor.

And Stephen snapped.

Now, if one were to ask Doctor Stephen Strange, he would by no means consider himself heroic or noble. His role as a doctor was one of service, but even within his relatively short time as a neurosurgeon, he had already gained a prestige that recognized his rising star and already people in the medical community were considering him in the top ranks of neurosurgeons. Soon, demand for his expertise would be large enough for him to have the option to turn away those who weren't worth his time, and he felt not a lick of guilt for that. His skills were valuable.

But to hear this brute of a man first throw slurs at two of the most brilliant women—no, the most brilliant doctors—in their fields followed by an outright assault on the other caused a protectiveness Stephen hadn't felt since his sister's death to completely overtake him. He saw red.

He leaped up at Yusifov in a fiery anger, no particular idea in mind except stop him from hurting anyone rushing through his head. At this point there was little thought, only adrenaline and a near primal fury running through his veins. It wasn't like him to be so hot-headed; he was a man who kept his cool under the most stressful of circumstances. But perhaps several days of poor sleep combined with the stress of the situation finally got to him. When he thought about it in the aftermath, even he would admit he had no idea what he was thinking.

It was a spur-of-the-moment decision he would come to regret.

In one moment he managed to knock the pistol out of Yusifov's hands and punched him in the face. He recognized screaming, shouting, fighting in the noises behind him, but he was focused on his own target.

Stephen hit him twice more before someone threw an arm around his neck and dragged him back and began to choke him. He clawed at the arm, which did nothing, but then he aimed his heel down right to the sensitive part of his attacker's instep. The man grunted in pain and the grip around his neck loosened. 

A shot shattered through the enclosed space, causing Stephen to freeze in surprise—and that proved to be his downfall. He saw Yusifov raising his pistol just before he was whipped across the face with the weapon. The hit threw him off balance and he fell to the floor and lay there for a second, stunned. He felt wetness on the side of his head.

As Stephen attempted to push himself up, a kick to his back sent him back to the floor. An involuntary grunt of pain escaped him. He closed his eyes, pausing for breath, but was given little time to recover as he was grabbed by both arms and dragged up to his knees. From his new position, he could see the rest of the room once more, and Stephen's heart skipped a beat at what was before him.

There were several alarming sights: Tony Stark on his knees just like him, nose bloodied. One of the gunmen near Stark with a screwdriver sticking in his neck and very much dead. Summer in the corner of the room, holding a shaking Meera against her chest.

And Doctor Steffen Baar on the ground, bleeding out from his stomach as Jada desperately tried to stem the blood flow with her sweater. The red dripped through the fabric and onto the concrete.

Stephen felt ill. He instinctively reached forward towards Steffen, to try and help, but the grip on his arms tightened and kept him in place.

Stark was the one to speak first. "Let them help him. I won't fight further. I'll do what you ask."

Yusifov came back into Stephen's line of sight as he stepped in front of him, though his gaze was on Stark. He said to the engineer, "You killed one of my men. A life for a life—that is fair, wouldn't you say?"

"He did nothing," Stark hissed, pulling against the hands that held him down. Stephen could see the men pull him back and tighten their grip in response. "And he's needed. You wouldn't have brought him here otherwise."

"He didn't do anything," Yusifov agreed, then turned to Stephen. "This one did." He then sent a sharp kick into Stephen's stomach, causing him to double over in pain as far as the men holding him  allowed. He almost missed the next statement. "And I should kill him for it. But the surgeon will be needed. The chemist, though? He failed to make a cure for your ailment with a month of time, and you don't have much longer to live, Stark. The chemist failed, and at this point, he's a waste of medical resources."

Then Yusifov nodded at one of his men, and he grabbed Jada by the arm and yanked her up to her feet.

"No—please, no, don't do this!" she shouted as she was dragged away from Steffen. Their captors ignored her and Yusifov walked up to the wounded man. He aimed his pistol at Steffen's head.

"Don't do this!" Stark shouted.

A shot rang through the room. A loud sob came from the corner before it was muffled. Stephen's ears rang, half deafened from the sound. His stomach churned; he felt like he was going to vomit. He hung his head and closed his eyes, trying to breathe slow breaths through his nose.

All he could smell was blood. He forcefully suppressed his gag reflex. 

Stephen missed whatever conversation came next, too busy trying to calm his breathing, trying not to throw up, and not having the energy to make out the words beyond the ringing in his ears. But then the world was moving as he was pulled to his feet and shoved out of the room, leaving behind Tony Stark and the body of Doctor Steffen Baar.

-----------------------------------------------

I was stuck on what I wanted to do with this part with a handful of ideas and consulted my beta for ideas. She suggested death which I wasn't even thinking of because I'm very bad at killing off characters. I blame her fully :P

Tag list (just let me know if you want to be added/removed with a comment - still not on AO3!): @sobeautifullyobsessed, @tashacumberbitch, @babywarg, @nishtha3012, @ragingstillness, @walkin-in-the-cosmos (I think the reason I can’t tag you is because you’ve flagged your tumblr for sensitive media, possibly), @lafourmii20, @asexualchemist, @iveneverbeenmorestressedinmylife, @oo0-will-of-the-wisp-0oo, @animefanfreak45, @rulerofthefandomsnow, @killaspyglass, @renlybaratheon-tyrell, @symmetria42, @kay-lock-key-lock

[maxineswritingcenter]

Bray Road part 5 - Mulder x nonbinary!reader

Uhhh classes started today for my final semester so let’s do some stuff between classes shall we?

- 

(Y/N) made there way through the ground floor of the hospital and to the information desk. They showed the desk assistant their badge and ask for directions to Jason Mulligan’s room. They made their way to the elevators after. Jason was in the ICU, which was strange since Mulder said he seemed to be fine when he saw him last. But things change, like this kid’s blood type apparently. The next theory that came to their head disturbed them more than anything. If Winterfield was really a werewolf and Jason had DEA in his blood, did that mean Winterfield was trying to make more? And worse...No... (Y/N) had had their blood work done since all those years ago and they had never found DEA. They made a mental note to speak with Jason’s mother, maybe he had the same experiences that they had: sleepwalking, trouble sleeping. Now they they really thought about it... they were only sleeping walking on the full moon. 

The elevator’s bell chimed as it stopped on the fourth floor. They stepped off the elevator and saw a typical floor for a hospital, nurses at the nurses station, even a few going from room to room. Or, they were really more like spaces that were closed off with a sheet. Jason was down the hall, second room on the left. As (Y/N) walked that had an odd feeling in their chest. Maybe it was just because they just learned their pediatrician is a werewolf. But the feeling only grew deeper as they walked closer. Once there, everything seemed oddly quiet. 

They knocked on the wall next to the entrance, “Mrs. Mulligan?” They pulled back the sheet, “My name is-”

Blood. Lots of blood. Mrs. Mulligan’s corpse was laying across the bed... her head was else where. There was no sign of Jason. (Y/N)’s breathing became shaky as they backed out and slowly closed the sheet. They hadn’t seen anything strange when they walked through the floor, meaning... this murder was calculated. They made their way back to the nurses station and stood there while the nurse finished her phone call. She was a petite woman, probably no older than they were. The nametag on her shirt said April 

“Yes, how can I help you?” She smiled. 

“I want you to put call security to put the hospital on lockdown, Jason Mulligan’s mother is dead and Jason is missing. He is to be considered extremely dangerous and treated with caution. We need to evacuate this floor. Now.” As they spoke, the nurse’s face grew paler and paler. With shaking hands, she grabbed at the telephone and called security. While the line was ringing, she told a nurse walking by to put evacuation procedures in place to which that aid also scurried off. From the right, (Y/N) heard a click. They looked down and saw a small boy with a disposable camera. 

(Y/N) smiled as not to alarm him, “Hello. That’s a nice camera.” They bent down to meet the child eye to eye. 

“Thanks.” He smiled, “My mommy got it for me. I like taking pictures.” He smiled. From the scaring on his face and the bandages, it was clear he had been severely burned and was starting to heal. 

“That’s nice. Where is your mommy?” 

“She went to the bathroom after the big dog.” They froze. 

“What big dog?” He pointed his little bandaged finger over (Y/N)’s shoulder. 

“That one.” He smiled, bringing the camera up to his face and taking a picture. (Y/N) slowly stood up, looking slightly over their shoulder and saw it. It was massive, standing at five feet tall on all fours. Its fur was a dark color and it looked wet, soaked in... the blood that was still dripping from its fangs and claws. It’s eyes were jet black. There was steam coming from its body. Before the eyes of the agent, the child, and the speechless nurse at the station, it began to stand on its hind legs. Its shoulders rose and fell with the creatures deep breathing. 

“Did you call security?” They whispered to the nurse. She nodded slowly, still holding to phone to their ear. 

“Good. Don’t move. Don’t scream.” The nurse nodded again, her lips trembling. (Y/N) reached down, stilling keeping an eye on the creature and took the little boy into their arms, he snapped another picture of the creature in the process. 

“Remain calm.” They whispered. And that seemed to work until a scream from behind the creature  that came in the form of a patient. The creature turned and roared, swiping at the patient with its massive claws, knocking the patient into a wall and killing him. 

“RUN!” (Y/N) called holding onto the boy and sprinting away, the creature hot on their trail. The little boy held on tightly, wrapping his arms around their neck. 

“It’s coming closer!” He cried. (Y/N) could hear from the increasing volume of the footsteps that it was true. Holding the boy with one arm, (Y/N) pulled down a large filing shelf as they ran by, hoping it would slow it down. The creature only roared in response. Ahead of the two was the elevator that was thankfully opening. (Y/N) ran inside, pressing the door close button frantically. 

“It’s coming! It’s coming!” The screamed, tugging on their shirt. 

“Come on, come on!” They said through their teeth, pushing frantically. The door finally closed, the creature slamming itself into them, denting the doors slightly. They took a deep breath of relief, leaning against the back wall of the elevator. 

“Okay.” They sighed, looking down at little boy in their arms. His face was red and wet from tears, “It’s okay, he didn’t get in.” Then, continuing their unfortunate bad luck, there were screeching noises coming from above them followed by a thud that shook the elevator. Spoke too soon. They were stopped on the second floor. So close to the first. 

(Y/N) they set the boy down, taking him gently by the shoulders, “When the doors open, I need you to run. Run faster than you ever have before.” 

“Okay.” He sniffled, gripping tightly onto his camera, “What about you?” There was another thump on the car ceiling. 

“I’ll be okay.” (Y/N) smiled, but the smile didn’t reach their eyes. They reached out and hit the open doors button, the doors opened and the little boy took off. As soon as the doors closed again, the creature’s hand broke through the ceiling. They shouted, crouching down to the floor to avoid the swinging claws. They grabbed their pistol from its holster on their hip, aiming and shooting up. The creature wailed it was hit but it didn’t relent. They shot again but this time, they heard a snap from the cable holding the car. As (Y/N) fell, the ceiling of the car caved in and they fell into darkness. 

- 

Mulder and the sheriff rushed into the main building as the elevator collapsed. The nurses and doctors were rushing patients outside from the main floor and the stairwells. 

“What’s going on?” Mulder called to a nurse evacuating a patient. 

“We’re evacuating, there’s a monster!” The mousy nurse called back, rushing a patient and their oxygen tank outside. The sheriff held a large weapon, a rifle by the looks of it. They both walked with caution towards the smoke coming from the elevator area. When the smoke cleared, they saw it. Both men stopped to stare. It was massive, at least seven feet tall. It was drenched in blood and covered in drywall rubble. It was dragging something behind it as it walked, and that something turned out to be Mulder’s partner. They seemed to be passed out, being dragged by their ankle.

“HEY!” Mulder called, aiming his pistol. The creature turned to look at them and roared. It had the features of a wolf: long snout, pointed ears, and large fangs. 

The sheriff took aim and fired, the shot to the chest did practically nothing. Mulder and the sheriff continued shooting but the creature only came closer, having dropped (Y/N). As it came closer, their bullets ran out and they were backed against a wall. The creature roared and went to descend on the two. Mulder squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the swipe of claws. But instead, he opened his eyes and saw a bloody silver pole sticking from the creatures chest. The creature fell to the side, revealing the same mousy looking nurse from before. There was blood splattered across her face and her breathing was hard. In her hand she held the wheels that had come from the tray she had used to stab the beast. 

“Damn April.” The Sheriff said as he regained his breath. She only waved lazily in response. 

Mulder got up and quickly went to his partner who was slowly coming to. 

“Ow.” (Y/L/N) groaned. Mulder helped them into a sitting position. 

“Where’s the thing?” They grunted. Mulder looked back, then at (Y/N). 

“I think you mean Jason.” He said solemnly. Before btoh the agent’s very eyes, the large creature had slowly morphed and shifted back into a bloody and naked Jason Mulligan. 

-------

Read Part 6 here!

I’m getting back into the grove! I’m very excited to finish up this series and I’m glad it’s getting some love. 

Reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated! 

Here is the taglist, comment below or send me an ask to be added: 

@bi-andready-tocry 

@nyotamalfoy