#the actual CANCER is what makes your hair fall out. not the chemo <3

[ink-asunder]

It always boggles my mind how in medical dramas, whenever a patient has a rare or undocumented reaction to a medication or whatever, the doctors are all scrambling to figure out WHY. But in real life doctors gaslight you when you say your birth control made you gain weight like come on

[chvoswxtch]

Hey have a Matt X reader request.

Matt smells the reader is sick, at the doctor comes out that she has cancer Matt takes care of her and when the first hair falls out he shaves off his beautiful hair to stand by her.

Got the diagnosis 3 years ago and now the cancer is back.

Would be happy if you accept the request.

hi my darling,

thank you so much for trusting me with this request. I really hope I did you justice, and that this is what you were looking for. I also sincerely hope you're doing well and feeling good day. sending you so much love & light. 💘

warning: mentions of sickness, a lil angst, light swearing, mainly fluff & comfort word count: 2.6k

in sickness & in health.

Even though he knew it wasn’t actually his fault, Matt couldn’t stop the guilt that flooded through his veins when you got the diagnosis. He had been the one to tell you that you should go to the doctor. There was something off inside your body, and he could smell the scent of sickness that started to linger in your blood. That, and you also hadn’t been feeling well lately. Matt wouldn’t let it go, and you couldn’t compete with his stubbornness, but as that one word was uttered in the doctor’s office, his entire world came crashing down. 

Cancer.

The blood immediately drained from Matt’s face as that one simple word cut through the silence of the office, and the terrified rhythm of your heartbeat thrashed loudly in his ears. He clenched his jaw to keep his bottom lip from trembling, steadying his own emotions as he reached for your quivering hand, gripping onto it tightly as a silent affirmation of ‘I’m here’. The doctor assured both of you that since it had been caught so early, treatment would be effective to send it into remission, and her steady heartbeat allowed Matt to breathe a little easier that she was telling the truth, not granting false hope with a sympathetic tone. 

Still, he felt guilty.

And that guilt only spread when you started chemotherapy. The scent of the chemicals that were being pumped into your body made Matt’s stomach churn, and the scent was almost unbearable, but he refused to leave you alone. He held your hand the entire time, making sure to bring your favorite blanket and a pair of fuzzy slippers to keep you warm and comfortable. He brought books to read to you, but oftentimes you requested to hear him work on his opening and closing arguments, helping him tweak them to perfection. It helped you both take your mind off of why you were at the hospital, and actually helped Matt improve his delivery in the courtroom. 

Foggy and Karen even joined the two of you most days. Karen read you the rough drafts of her latest articles, turning you into her personal editor as she took your feedback and crafted some of her best work. Foggy just liked to bring you new snacks and drinks to try together. The chemo made you sensitive to a lot of scents and tastes, unable to enjoy things that used to be your favorites, but Foggy had turned it into a fun game trying to discover the strangest and most intriguing flavors to try. Lately, he had been on a Korean kick, finding a bodega that exclusively sold popular Korean snacks and drinks.

Even though your body ached and you were constantly sick from the chemo, the three of them kept your spirits high.

But still, Matt felt guilty.

The day your hair had started to fall out was the worst. At first it was just a few strands here and there, nothing too noticeable, but then one day when you were in the shower, it started to come out in clumps, and you broke down on the floor. Matt panicked when he heard your sobs, bursting into the bathroom and stepping into the shower with you, completely unphased by the fact that he was fully dressed and now completely soaking wet. He pulled you into his arms as you clung to his body, rocking you back and forth slowly as he tried to gently coax you to tell him what was wrong. He thought maybe you had fallen. He didn’t like you taking showers without him or when he wasn’t home, since you had been weaker than usual lately from the chemo, and he didn’t want to risk you hurting yourself. As he began to run his fingers through your wet hair and noticed how much staying wrapped around his fingers, his heart broke at the realization of why you were so upset.

“Hey…shh, it’s alright. It’s alright, sweetheart. You’re okay. I’ve got you. It’s gonna be okay, baby. It’s okay, you’re okay.”

After about a week of feeling distraught about losing your hair, you decided you were going to shave it all off. There was a pained look on Matt’s face as you looked at him in the mirror, reaching behind you to give his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Hey, it’s just hair. I’d rather be alive and healthy than have it. Besides, I’ve kinda always wanted to see if I could pull off the G.I. Jane, look.”

Matt tried to offer you a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. It didn’t even reach the edges of his mouth. Letting out a soft sigh, you turned around to face him, placing your hands on his cheeks to cup his jaw.

“Matty, none of this is your fault.”

“I told you to go to the doctor.”

“Which saved my life. Without you…I don’t know if I would’ve gone to the doctor at all. I might have never caught it until it was too late. But you caught it. You saved me. Do not feel guilty about that.”

Matt let out a shaky breath as he closed his eyes for a moment, settling his hands on your waist to pull you close into his chest.

“I…I hate that you’re in pain. I hate that you’re sick. I hate that I can’t do anything about it.”

Matt wasn’t used to feeling so helpless. He had always sworn to protect you. He’d give his life for you. But right now he felt like he was failing you, because he couldn’t protect you from your own body. He couldn’t save you from the threat within you. All of his training, all of his heightened senses, none of it mattered. Being the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was useless against a threat that wasn’t tangible. 

The day you had gotten your diagnosis, Matt had run to his church, falling to his knees at the altar to pray over and over and over. He begged God not to take you like He had taken everyone else. He swore he would never forgive Him if he did. You were the one loss Matt could never make peace with. He pleaded with God to take your place. He could take it. His body had suffered far worse. He’d do anything…anything if God would just save you. You were the embodiment of an angel that deserved mercy, and Matt struggled with rage that it was granted to the Devil within him instead.

He deserved the sickness. He deserved to be punished. He deserved to face the Angel of Death, not you. 

But God wouldn’t let him take your place. 

He pondered if this was his punishment for all his sins; to endure the person he loved most in the world suffering for his own wrongdoings. Father Lantom argued that not everything that had ever gone wrong in Matt’s life was a punishment, but perhaps a lesson. Maybe to finally teach him the importance of balance, and figuring out what was most important in his life. That life was precious and fleeting, and it wasn’t to be taken for granted, but to be cherished. That God was not a merciless being hellbent on singling out Matthew Murdock, even if it sometimes felt that way. 

“Matty, you are at every single appointment with me, even though I know it makes you feel as sick as it does me. You have been right by my side, every step of the way. You and Karen and Foggy have made me feel so…hopeful. I’m not scared because I have you. You have sacrificed so much for me lately, just to be here with me and make sure I’m okay.”

“In sickness and in health, right?”

A tender smile graced your lips as you brushed your thumb along Matt’s cheek bone, staring up into his blank hazel eyes that shone with contrition. 

“We’re not married, Matty.”

“Not yet.”

Matt took pleasure in the way a soft gasp slipped past your lips and your heart rate sped up, using the opportunity to pull you in closer to his chest and press a tender kiss to your lips. The doctors had warned you both that it would get worse before it got better, and even though you were constantly in pain and getting sick, the chemotherapy was working. Matt had been thinking a lot about your future lately, and he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. He had decided that as soon as the cancer was gone and you were feeling healthy again, he was going to ask you to marry him. He wasn’t going to waste even a second of your lives together any longer.

“Don’t make me a promise you can’t keep, Murdock.”

“Have I ever?”

The smile that graced Matt’s lips was more genuine this time, and you melted into his chest with one of your own. You knew as hard as all of this had been on you lately, it had been just as hard on him, and sometimes you felt just as guilty as he did for it. 

“Not that I know of. Now, are you going to give me the best haircut I’ve ever gotten, or should I call Foggy? He said he’s been watching a lot of hair cutting tutorials lately and he’s very confident in his abilities.”

“He’s full of shit. He watches one tutorial and thinks he can do anything.”

A giggle slipped past your lips at Matt’s words, turning around to face the mirror as Matt picked up the scissors that were on the counter. As you captured your bottom lip between your teeth, Matt placed his hand on your shoulder to squeeze it gently, giving you a lopsided smile in the mirror.

“You must really love me, and trust me, to let your blind boyfriend give you a haircut.”

“Well, if you mess it up, it’s just gonna get shaved off anyway. And besides, if you draw any blood, I have a good lawyer.”

Matt’s lips split into a wide grin, and he couldn’t help but chuckle and shake his head at your words. Taking a deep breath, he nodded his head in your direction as he rubbed his hand soothingly over your shoulder.

“You ready?”

“I’m ready.”

Matt was extremely cautious as he cut your hair, checking in with you every few minutes, occasionally stopping to gently squeeze your shoulder or kiss your cheek. Once it was short enough, he picked up the clippers and turned them on, the loud buzzing noise causing you to jump slightly. Matt halted his movements, cocking his head to the side slightly as he studied you.

“Do you need a minute?”

“No…no it just…startled me, that’s all. I’m okay.”

Pausing for a moment, he waited to hear the falter in your rhythm, but it never came. He gave a slight nod of his head, carefully turning you around to face him and delicately holding onto the back of your neck as he shaved off the rest. You closed your eyes as you held onto the cross necklace around his neck, feeling the tickle of your hair coating your shoulders and neck. You tried your hardest to will away the overwhelming emotions you felt, reminding yourself that it was just hair, and it would grow back eventually. Once he was finished, Matt wiped you off with a towel and darted his tongue out quickly to wet his lips as he smiled timidly. 

“All done. How’d I do?”

Taking a deep breath, you turned around to face yourself in the mirror, a sharp gasp falling past your lips. Matt instantly froze, listening to the way your heart rate spiked, and tasting the familiar tang of salt in the air as tears welled in your eyes. 

“That bad, huh? Should I stick to law?”

A soft giggle slipped past your lips as you shook your head, quickly wiping at your eyes and sniffling as you looked at Matt in the mirror.

“No…no no you…you did great. You did really great, actually.”

Matt nibbled at his bottom lip anxiously, wrapping his arms around you from behind as he flashed you a somber smile.

“Then why are you upset, baby?”

“I just…wasn’t expecting…I don’t know. I don’t know how to feel right now.”

Matt nodded slowly, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder as he held you close.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. It’s gonna be an adjustment, right? Do you wanna put on the beanie Karen made you?”

Karen had recently gotten into knitting, and had made you several things while she sat with you during your appointments. She had recently made you a soft beanie in your favorite color that had a cute flower pattern on it and a cute fluffy pom on the top. She’d even made Matt a red one that had little horns, much to your amusement.

“No, not right now. I think I need to um…get…let it…just sit with it, maybe?”

“Whatever you need, angel. Take your time.”

“I should probably take a shower. I already feel itchy.”

“I’ll join you. But first-”

Matt unwrapped his arms from around your waist, picking up the clippers to hand to you as he moved to sit down on the toilet seat. You stared over at him in confusion, glancing between him and the clippers he had placed in your hand.

“What are you giving me these for?”

“Because it’s my turn.”

Your eyes immediately widened at his words, shaking your head quickly as you started to protest.

“What? No…Matt, you can’t-”

“It’s just hair, honey. It’ll grow back, right?”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked over at Matt, noting the sincere and warm smile on his face. He held one of his hands out for you which you instantly took, sniffling as he laced your fingers together.

“I told you that I wouldn’t let you go through this alone.”

“I know…but you haven’t, not at all. You don’t have to do this-”

“I want to. Besides, we can add with or without hair to our vows.”

“What if I mess it up?”

“We can call Foggy, see if he’s as good as he says.”

Matt lightly shrugged his shoulders as he looked up in your direction with a warm smile, giving your hand another tight squeeze. You couldn’t help but look down at him in complete adoration and awe, leaning in to kiss his lips softly.

“I love you so much, Matty.”

“I love you so much, angel.”

“You should probably take your shirt off. If the hair on my skin is driving me crazy, it’s going to drive you insane.”

The edge of Matt’s mouth curled up into a smirk as he quirked one of his eyebrows, reaching for the hem of his shirt to pull it over his head.

“If you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask.”

“Don’t distract me, Matthew. You have to be in court tomorrow.”

“Good thing I have hats and a beanie from Karen.”

Turns out, you weren’t as skilled of a barber as Matt was, and Foggy was thrilled to come over and prove himself to his best friend.

“Doubt me again, and I’ll shave your eyebrows off in your sleep.”

“You’d shave off a blind man’s eyebrows?”

“I’m a heathen, Murdock. You know that. God, it is absolutely annoying how good you still look without hair.”

“Isn’t it? He’s so unfair.”

The tips of Matt’s ears turned bright red as you and Foggy took turns showering him in compliments while Foggy worked, loving the way a flustered shade of pink coated his cheeks.

“Maybe we should shave his eyebrows, Fog.”

“I think you’re right, Y/N/N. I think we should.”

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042

[favefandomimagines]

Oh (e.b.)

Summary: buck runs into his ex fling, taylor kelly, leaving you to feel like nothing but a second choice

AN: inspired by the winter finale of 911

You were a catch. You were smart, had a good job, beautiful. Guys were lining up to date you and yet the man you wanted to be with didn’t want you.

It seemed to everyone around you that the two of you were meant to be but to Buck, it wasn’t that obvious. He didn’t see how you looked at him, didn’t hear how you talked about him. Clearly, he didn’t know how you felt about him.

So, you stuck it out. You put your feelings on the back burner and just decided to be his friend. If he wanted to be with you, he would.

But you couldn’t ignore the feeling in your chest when he told you he was having dinner with Taylor Kelly.

“We got to talking at that call and then Albert said him and Veronica were having dinner and I just, called and asked if she wanted to come.” Buck explained. “And she said yes?” You asked.

“Yeah, she seemed on board. Maybe this is the universe telling me something.” He said. “The universe? You’ve never believed in that stuff.” You told him. “But this is Buck 3.0. I’m all for a change.” Buck answered. “When is this dinner again?” You asked. “Wednesday at 6.” He said. 

“Oh.” You muttered quietly. Wednesday was your birthday. And it seemed that Buck was caught up in bettering himself and finding someone that he had completely forgotten about you. But you had enough trying to remind him and get him to see that you were right there the whole time. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you looked at the mug in your hands. “You okay?” He asked. “Uh, yeah. I think I’m gonna head home. I have a long shift tomorrow.” You said, rising from your seat.

“You just got here.” Buck pointed out. “Buck, I just, I gotta go.” You said in a more stern manner. He looked at you with furrowed eyebrows and watched you leave his apartment.

You let out a large sigh as you got in your car before the tears came.

How were you so unlucky that the guy you were head over heels for, wanted someone else? He wanted someone else so much, he forgot about her birthday. When you were right there through everything? You were there through Abby leaving, Ally breaking up with him, the lawsuit against the department, his parents, everything. And yet you were left on the back burner. 

You always put his feelings above your own, not because you felt like you should. But because you cared about him and if he was happy, you were happy. Though, the more you thought about it, the more you realized that he sometimes didn’t give you that same courtesy. 

Your day was like the day from hell. Everything that could go wrong in your line of work, went completely wrong. To make matters worse, you had lost one of your favorite patients. She had stage 3 leukemia but she never let that change her personality. 

She made going to the hospital after shifts worth while because at least you got to spend time with her. But the cancer was too aggressive for the chemo and she died in her sleep that night. You tried not to let losses get to you but she had been your patient since you started volunteering at the hospital. You were really hoping you’d see her remission but the universe had other plans. 

All you wanted to do was lay on the couch with Buck and just cry. You got in your car and dialed his number, getting a few rings before he picked up. “Hey, you!” He greeted you. “Hey, do you maybe want to come over later? I’ve had the worst day. I lost a patient and-” You started before he cut you off. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I can’t. I have a date tonight, trying to put myself back out there.” He said. “I can come over after.” He added. “No, forget it. It’s fine.” You said. “You sound upset.” Buck said. “I’m fine, Buck. Enjoy your date.” You replied before hanging up the phone. 

Since that evening, you had been avoiding Buck like the plague. On shifts, you wouldn’t talk to him. Sticking to Chimney and Hen like glue to avoid any conversation with Buck. 

You went so far to ask to ride in the ambulance to calls, rather than in the fire engine like usual. It wasn’t odd for you to be in the ambulance because you were an EMT but you usually rode with the rest of the team.

“Does anyone know why Y/N won’t ride with us anymore?” Buck asked his crew. “Are you that dumb?” Hen asked. “Hen,” Bobby started. “It’s because of you, dude.” Eddie answered. “Me? What did I do?” Buck questioned. “Well, you blow her off all the time, completely ignore her feelings and ditch her for dates and you’re so oblivious you can’t see that she’s totally in love with you.” Eddie explained. “When you were hurt in the hospital, she didn’t come to work for days because she didn’t want you the throw a clot. She had to work triple shifts just to make enough to pay her rent because of all the days she missed sitting with you. Did you ever thank her for that?” Bobby added. “Well, no, but-” He started. 

“And when she lost her favorite patient, Emily, did you ask her if she was okay?” Bobby asked. “I-I couldn’t I had a date. And she didn’t say it was Emily.” Buck said, trying to defend yourself. “If you don’t reciprocate her feelings, that’s fine. But she’s your best friend. And as her best friend, you are supposed to be there when she needs you. She shouldn’t have to explain herself.” Bobby concluded. “You also forgot her birthday.” Chimney added as they all got out of the engine. 

The rest of his shift, Buck tried getting you to talk to him. But it was always, ‘I’m busy, Buck’ or ‘Can’t talk, we’re working.’ He’d given up when he tried to stop you after a call and you had given him a look he had never seen before. 

The guilt was eating him alive. He was a terrible friend to you and he thought being with you was a pipe dream. Until Hen and Eddie told him you loved him. But regardless of your feelings for him, you had done so much for him and he didn’t realize it until you were gone. 

That night, Buck went over to Taylor’s to gain more perspective on what he could do to fix what he royally screwed up. 

“I don’t know what to do. She hasn’t talked to me in weeks. We’ve never gone this long without talking.” Buck explained to Taylor.

“Well, you did forget her birthday. And not give it a second thought that she was hurting over the loss of a patient.” She said. “That’s not helping.” He replied. “You asked for my help and I’m being honest. You really hurt her. She almost got evicted because she was so worried about you. The first person she wanted to be with after her friend died was you and you went on a date instead.” Taylor said. “I know. I tried to talk to her but she won’t answer any of my calls or texts. She won’t even look at me anymore.” Buck said. 

“You are so stupid sometimes.” Taylor laughed. “What?” Buck asked. “She has feelings for you. Why else would she get so upset? If she only saw you as a friend, you would be getting screamed at not avoided.” She explained.

“Everyone keeps saying that but there’s no way Y/N has feelings for me. She’s...perfect. Perfect doesn’t fall for damaged goods.” Buck rebutted. “Trust me, she loves you.” Taylor told him. “And do you love her?” She asked. “Of course I do. But being with her seemed like it was too good to happen so I tried to move on. I guess I tried so hard I ended up hurting her anyways.” Buck answered. 

“Then tell her. And do a whole lot of graveling while you’re at it.” Taylor said. 

Buck quickly left the apartment and got into his car driving like a bat out of hell. When he arrived at your apartment, he didn't even bother to park in the parking stall correctly, his main focus was just getting to you.

When he finally reached your door, he knocked on it rather harshly and heard the sound of your urgent footsteps coming to find out who it was.

"Buck? What are you doing here?" You asked. Buck couldn't even find the words to answer because he was more focused on what you were wearing.

You had on a formed fitting red dress, your hair was curled and flowing over your shoulders and you looked beautiful.

"Wh-Why are you dressed like that?" He stammered. "I have a date." You answered. "You have a date? With who?" Buck asked. "Emily's brother. We became close when Emily had chemo and after she died we kept in tough. Why are you here?" You questioned.

"Don't go on the date. Please, for the love of god, don't go on that date. Because I love you, Y/N. I was too stupid to see it until you weren't around anymore. And I was terrible to you. I was supposed to be your best friend and I was so worried about my own life I dnd't even ask you how you were doing and oh my god I missed your birthday." Buck rambled.

"Slow down, Buckley, and talk to me at a normal rate, please." You said.

Buck took a deep breath and looked at you intently. "I'm in love with you. I-I always have but being with you always seemed like a pipe dream because you're perfect. You have always been perfect and you know that I'm not." Buck explained.

"Exactly. I've seen you at your worst and I still love you but even as your best friend you never gave me the time of day. Missing my birthday to go to dinner with Taylor Kelly. Brushing me off after Emily died because you had a date." You laughed bitterly. "I have stood by you no matter what. But god forbid I need you once in a while." You added.

"And I am so sorry, Y/N. You have every right to be upset with me, I'm upset with me. I'm pissed off at myself because I didn't realize what I had until it was too late." Buck replied. "Evan, do you understand the situation you just put me in? I get to go on a date with a great guy, one who actually pays attention and then the man I've been in love with for years, shows up at my doorstep to tell me he loves me back." You started.

Buck's facial expression fell, fearing the worst and anticipating you telling him that you'd moved on and he was too late.

"And I have to call that guy and tell him that I can't make it. Because the person I actually want to be with is right here." You finished.

The light in Buck's eyes returned at your words, looking at you with a gentle smile.

"Really?" He asked. "Yes, really and please don't make me regret it. You've screwed up a lot lately, let's not add us to the list." You said. "So there's an us now?" Buck questioned. "I-If that's okay with you." You stuttered. "It's absolutely okay with me." Buck said with a smile.

"I guess I got all dressed up for nothing." You sighed, letting Buck inside your apartment.

Buck was quiet for a moment as he watched you take your heels off and your earrings, placing them on the table by the door. "Then let's not make it for nothing. Let me take you out on our first official date." He said.

"Besides, I need to see you in that dress more often." He added a smirk on his face. "Alright then, Buckley. Take me on a date. You have a lot to make up for." You smiled, offering him your hand.

Buck took your hand in his, happily, and held you steady as you put your shoes back on. “Trust me, Y/N, it’ll be the best date you’ve ever been on.” He said. 

In the moment, you laughed at his words but after the date had concluded and all was said and done, it had indeed been the best date you have ever been on. 

[captainstarkky]

In ep13 in DAYS, Why do you think TDK was dreaming of MM crying? There has to be a reason right? How can she see a possible future?

Hello!

So, let me tell you in advance, although I work in the discipline of psychology, dream analysis is never my cup of tea (lol) simply because most of its meaning changes overtime.

But either way, since we are here let's do this!

On my short analysis of Episode 13, I gave a bit of what I thought was the reason of TDK dreaming of MM. You can check it here.

But I think I got to elaborate on some parts - since it's short and kind of very straightforward and confusing.

In there, I explained that dreaming of death actually means having a hard time coping up with changes. The thing is that, that change isn't encompassed by whatever we think change is. It actually is the literal change - yes, the one that is constant: change.

TDK does seem to experience a lot of changes throughout the episode doesn't she? She was diagnosed with an aggressive brain cancer (1), then she discovered that her boyfriend was already married (2), her boss was a sexist that always pointed out the disadvantage of her being a woman, a weirdo showing up to her doorstep (Myul Mang), discovering that this weirdo is actually a supernatural being that is the personification of death himself, entering a contract with him, and finally, probably the biggest, is when her memories were all wiped out - leaving her back to zero before meeting Myul Mang.

Of everything mentioned above, she was able to cope up because she had Myul Mang by her side. But what if we remove MM from the story? It's obvious that her mind wouldn't be able to handle the stress. But she got her family with her. That is the point. Instead of being comforted, I bet she feels even more burdened. She can't talk to anyone how she really feels. She can't easily confide to anyone if she feels scared or what. It was way too different when MM was around.

(He might have a nasty personality, but MM really helped TDK cope with accepting her own demise - and now he's gone from her memory)

Take note that she have a reason why she did it. She had a reason and her reason is that (1) she doesn't want him to feel pain when she's gone; and (2) she already knew what he was planning to do and she doesn't want him to disappear -which he eventually did in Episode 14.

Because of this too much things that are happening in her head - plus the unexpected return of MM in her life, it's inevitable that she would experience a great deal of anxiety and stress. And most of these, if not channeled out of the body could manifest themselves as dreams.

Now we're here. Answering a question on why did she dream about MM crying over her funeral.

So let's lay down the things we know before that scene happened.

Flash back, TDK had her memories of MM wiped out; it was together with their initial contract.

TDK met MM in the most unexpected way at the parking lot.

They talked and we realized that the contact was void when we heard her thoughts - he was not supposed to.

Then they renewed the contract.

MM got very curious about TDK after renewing the contract because Sonyeonshin told him that she did not do anything to him but to TDK.

He asked questions - basically interrogated her.

He saw his phone, then probably asked himself "why does he have a phone and why is the wallpaper of my phone a picture of me and that TDK?" It made him a lot more piqued.

Then TDK was informed that after the biopsy, a portion of her hair would be shaved and her hair would start falling down as the chemo and rad therapy starts. So she was advised to shave it off while she still have time.

She went solo. She went to a saloon and styled her hair before asking the stylist to shave her head off.

But even before that happened, her nose bled and she slightly panicked when the stylist panicked; as she was standing up, she suddenly had a dizziness attack and stumbled. MM caught her as she was falling and he brought her back to the hospital.

Now the dream. Okay, if you've read my short interpretation of it then the explanation of the dream should be OK already. As for "why he dreamt of MM specifically?"

Well, in a scientific point of view, it's easy. It's not that she wanted to see MM. It is because MM was the last person she saw. But that is just too boring, tbh. So let's get haphazard and explain it with fun.

I think, her dreaming of MM, is an indication that her mind is trying to piece out together specific events that would possibly happen. It's not foreseeing, dreams oftentimes don't do that - unless you're a psychic. It's an imagination on what could happen given the facts. MM could be a representation of the great deal of people that would mourn her death - now, why not any from her family? Why specifically MM? Because of either: (1) he's the last person she saw. The closest her brain could describe as 'most human', that is. (2) her brain was closely piecing up information about 'someone' and he fit the bill; (3) she's also equally curious of MM that's why her brain was trying to personify him in her subconscious, now using him as the 'model'; (4) Sometimes, the person you see in your dream is a reflection of what you really feels inside. In my own analysis, Sa-ram in her dream is a reflection of what she really feels inside - sad, sorry, and pity to herself that she would die and she cannot do anything.

Could either of the four. Or: (5) even if she forgot about him, his existence has already been engraved in her system. And by the time he popped out in front of her again, it allowed her brain to see a discrepancy on the system and as it tried to bring back the memories she lost, it brought back the thought of MM crying in front of her memorial. That's the power of curiosity. That is also the reason why most amnestic patients have very vivid dreams - their brain is trying to establish a connection of the severed memories.

And for the record, she did not see a possible future. It was her head making up illusions of what could happen in the future given the facts that she knew. Some of the facts that she knew that probably lead to that dream:

She's dying.

She's supposed to die.

This man (MM) is weird, and he's the last guy I saw.

"He's probably no-one but why does he pop out everywhere I go?"

Bonus information from my theory:

Why did she apologize to MM?

She apologized to MM because she saw him crying. And that's because of her funeral for sure.

Because her brain now recognizes MM as the model of the people who would mourn for her, she apologizes to him.

Because most of the dreams are ambiguous, there is a fictional/conspiracy theory that could say that MM in the dream represents TDK's state of mind. She's not coping up with the change she's been to and she was struggling in trying to connect the dots. She's curious of MM but she can't remember who he is. So she was apologizing.

She was apologizing to herself for literally throwing her happiness away. And even is she forgot who Sa-ram is, she knew that she’s unconsciously longing for him. But she can't remember him - so she was apologizing to him.

Why did she apologize to the real world MM?

It was a brief hallucination - a normal hallucination when a person is asleep. It was her still trying to apologize to the made up MM in her brain, without her knowing that she was really apologizing to the real MM.

It could be that even before MM came inside the room, she was already sleep talking: "I'm sorry." It's just that, coincidentally, he was there, holding her hand and since she saw him in her dream, she unconsciously apologized to him too.

By the way, if a nurse was there, she would've done the same. Scientifically, she was still asleep and not awake. She was in the period of transitional state of consciousness between wakefulness and sleep - so technically she was still not on her 100% wakefulness.

I hope I made sense. Lol. It's just, there are a lot of theories popping out and I'm sure most of them are deviating from one another. This is just my opinion of what was happening and others might have different opinions as well. I just hope I laid mine well enough to be understood.

Thank you for asking, doommate!

[suituuup]

clouds

Prompt: After finding out she has Stage II breast cancer, Beca gets started with chemo. She never expected she’d make a friend there, much less a kid.

rating: M

word count: 5,4k

ao3 link

*

“All done,” the nurse chirps as she takes out the needle and presses a wad of cotton to the small puncture spot. “You’ll have to wait an hour or so for the lab results to come back before they set you up for chemo.” 

“Okay,” Beca mumbles, lowering her sweater sleeve and standing from the cot. She thanks the nurse and shuffles out of the room and towards the elevator that will take her up to the right floor. 

A month ago, Beca found out she had breast cancer. She had just got back from tour and was on her annual gynecology check-up where the doctor felt a lump in her left breast. She referred Beca to a specialist and, following a mammogram and a biopsy, Beca was diagnosed with Stage II breast cancer. 

Her whole universe as she knew it shifted on its axis. While her chances of survival were pretty high at that stage, she knew treatment would momentarily change her daily life, and that the few months ahead would be an emotional whirlwind.

Beca got set up just over an hour later on a reclining chair on the infusion floor. She had packed a bag with everything she would need: snacks, a blanket, water, and her computer and headphones so she could get some work done. 

The nurse soon came over to start an IV, Beca wincing as the needle pierced her skin. “Alright, you’re all set. Call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks.”

She closes her eyes and puffs out a long breath, willing herself to relax. 

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay on your own?”

Beca opens her eyes to find a little girl, no older than ten or eleven, climbing in the chair next to hers. Her mom, Beca supposes from the matching hair color, crouches in front of her. 

“Yes, mom. I already told you I’ll be okay.” 

“Okay, okay. I’ll be back in half an hour.” The woman kisses the girl’s forehead, shrugging off the Wonder Woman backpack and setting it on her daughter’s lap. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” As soon as her mother turns away to leave the room, her curious blue eyes find Beca. “You’re new.”

Beca puffs out a surprised chuckle. “I am, yeah.”

A small hand is thrust towards her. “I’m Maddie.”

Beca shakes her hand lightly. “Hi Maddie, my name’s Beca.” 

“Nice meeting you.” She opens her backpack just as the nurse heads towards her. “Hi Jenny.”

“Hello Maddie. How are we doing today?”

“I’m okay, thanks. Mommy and I are going to eat ice cream afterwards.” She rolls up her sleeve and extends her arm, barely flinching as the nurse pushes the needle in. 

Beca realizes with a painful pang in her chest that it’s definitely not her first time getting chemo. 

“Lucky you,” the nurse gushes, taping the IV tube to her arm. “All done, sweetie. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Thanks, Jenny.”

Beca glances away, her eyes drifting to her own IV bag. It’s strange to think about how what’s supposed to kill the cancer is also killing every good cell in her body. Soon she’ll be losing her hair and—

“Who’s your favorite singer?”

Beca is pulled out of her thoughts by that same girl — Maddie. An amused smile curves her lips. “Um, I like a lot of singers, but I guess my top 3 is Fleetwood Mac, Harry Styles and Beyoncé.”

“My mom loves Fleetwood Mac,” she says. “Mine’s Shawn Mendes.”

Beca nods. “He’s a cool guy.”

Those striking blue eyes widen. “You’ve met him??”

Beca has worked with him on his last album and he’s become a good friend, but she wants to keep a low profile, so she shakes her head. “No, I mean— he seems like a cool guy.”

“Oh. Yeah. I was supposed to go see him live last year but I wasn’t healthy enough.”

Beca’s heart cracks a little bit at that. “That sucks, I’m sorry.”

Maddie shrugs. “It’s okay. Do you know how to play Backgammon?”

Beca lets out another chuckle. She hadn’t expected to meet anyone here, much less a kid (she’s not a kid person), but she has to admit it’s a nice distraction from her spiraling thoughts. “No, but maybe you could teach me?”

The next two hours go much faster than Beca initially expected, thanks to Maddie’s company. Her mom —Chloe, as she introduces herself— comes back half an hour in, but she seems content reading her book while Beca and Maddie play. 

“Yes!” Maddie exclaims when she —once again— wins that round. 

“Well done, dude. I’ll do better next time.” 

“You wanna come eat an ice cream with us?” She asks as the nurse takes Beca’s IV out. 

Beca already feels tired and nauseous, so she declines, shaking her head. “Thanks, but I’m gonna head home. It was cool hanging out with you, though.” 

“You, too. See you next time!” 

Beca nods, casting her mother a polite smile as she gathers her stuff and stands up. “Bye.” 

The first effects of chemo hit her for real a couple hours afterwards. Exhaustion like she’s never experienced creeps on her right before dinner (she’s not really hungry anyway), and she crashes for thirteen hours, waking up with the urge to throw up. Her day is spent wallowing on her couch when she’s not bent over the toilet, weaving in and out of sleep while the sitcom channel fills the silence of her empty apartment. 

It lasts two days, and Beca starts feeling better on the third, which happens to be her second chemo session. Maddie and her mom are already there when she gets to the room, and she casts them both a wave and a tired smile before sitting down in the same seat as last time. 

“Hi Beca!” Maddie exclaims, grinning brightly. 

“Hey dude. Ready to kick my butt at Backgammon again?” 

“Yep!” She turns to her mom a second later. “Mommy I have to pee.” 

“Oh go quick then, before the nurse starts you on your IV.” Maddie scampers off towards the bathroom, and Chloe’s eyes flicker to Beca, a sympathetic smile spreading on her features. “How are you holding up?” 

Beca grimaces. “The last two days have been pretty awful, I’m hoping it won’t get as bad after each session.” 

“Yeah… it’s rough.” 

“How long-- um, has she been in chemo long?” She asks hesitantly. 

“It’s our second round this time around,” Chloe says softly, the pain evident in her eyes. “She was diagnosed with leukemia three years ago, and it’s been an emotional roller coaster since then. Two remissions, yet here we are again.” 

Beca’s eyes widen. “Wow... I’m so sorry.” 

“She’s a fighter. Much braver than I could ever be. Always has a smile on her face.” 

Maddie comes back before Beca can say anything else, hopping back on her chair. Beca manages to win two rounds out of ten this time, and she crashes in her bed as soon as she gets home. 

The next few weeks are a blur, as Beca doesn’t do much except going to the hospital three times a week for chemo and sleeping it off. She misses work, and going out with her friends, but she doesn’t have the energy to leave the house. She’s thankful for Stacie and Emily, who regularly come to check on her and even go grocery shopping for her. 

Four weeks after beginning her treatment, Beca’s hair starts to fall off. She knew it would happen, but she didn’t think it would hit her so hard emotionally. She loses weight, too, and her complexion is much paler. 

Maddie’s high spirits are a nice distraction every time she’s at the hospital. They play games, listen to music, and even grab ice cream once or twice with her mom when Beca feels okay enough not to head straight home. 

On her last day of chemo, Beca is surprised to see Maddie isn’t there. “Is her treatment over?” She asks Jenny as the nurse sets her up for her infusion. 

Jenny shakes her head. “She was admitted last night.” 

Beca’s heart squeezes in her chest, and she swallows down the rising lump in her throat. “Do you know if she’s allowed visitors?” 

“I’m not sure. I’ll check for you.” 

After her session, Beca heads to the oncology floor and asks for Maddie’s room at the reception. She heads down the hall, turning the corner and lingering in the doorway. 

Maddie looks so small in her hospital bed, her complexion as pale as the white walls. An oxygen mask covers her mouth and nose, a wheezing sound filling the room every time she breathes. Chloe’s the first to notice Beca as she sits by her daughter’s side, stroking her hair. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t sure-- I can go,” Beca murmurs, feeling suddenly out of place. 

“It’s okay,” Chloe croaks out, waving her in. Her eyes are bloodshot and her features scream exhaustion and despair, and Beca’s heart clenches yet again. 

Maddie finally notices her, a tired smile spreading across her lips. “Hi.” 

“Hey dude,” Beca greets with a soft smile, lowering herself on the opposite chair because her legs feel weakened by the chemo. “Missed you today.” 

“Did you ring the bell?” 

Beca nods. “I did.” 

“Sorry I wasn’t there.” 

“It’s okay, Maddie. I’m sorry you’re not feeling good. I was thinking-- would you like to listen to some cool music? I used to mix songs together when I was in college and nobody really ever listened to them, so you’re privileged.” 

Maddie grins and nods, taking the earbud Beca offers her.

She sticks around for half-an-hour, giving Chloe time to use the restroom and grab a coffee while she keeps Maddie company. As she walks out of the hospital, Beca pulls out her phone and brings it to her ear after selecting the right contact. 

“Hey. I need a favor.” 

Two days later, Beca finds herself heading back to the oncology floor. She knocks on Maddie’s open door, relieved to see her sitting up and looking overall better than she did on Beca’s last visit. 

“Beca!” She exclaims, grinning widely. 

“Hey you.” Her gaze flickers to Chloe, who too looks better. “Hey Chloe.” 

“Hi Beca. Thanks for stopping by,” Chloe says with a soft smile. 

“I’m not alone, actually,” she lets them know, craning her neck towards the door to signal for her guest to come in. 

Maddie gasps loudly, her eyes widening to the side of saucers. “Oh my god!” 

“Hey Maddie,” Shawn greets, grinning as he steps further inside. He’s got his guitar slung across his back. “How are you doing?” 

Maddie stutters, pulling a chuckle out of the three adults in the room. “Hi,” she eventually croaks out. “You’re Shawn Mendes. And you’re here. In my room.” 

Shawn lets out a soft laugh. “Beca told me you were meant to come see one of my shows last year but couldn’t make it because of your health, so here I am.” 

Maddie gapes, her gaze flicking back and forth between Shawn and Beca. “Mom, I think I need to be pinched.” 

“It’s all real, baby,” Chloe confirma, brushing a kiss to Maddie’s forehead. As Shawn gets settled in the chair by Maddie’s bed and fiddles with his guitar, she meets Beca’s eyes and mouths a thank you. 

Maddie has the biggest smile on her face for the following hour. Shawn plays her favorite songs, signs an autograph and they snap a ton of pictures together. Beca goes home with the biggest smile on her face as well, thrilled to have been able to make Maddie forget about her disease even for a short while. 

Beca goes back to work the following Monday as the chemo after effects have considerably lessened over the weekend. She’s still more tired than usual, but she feels like she can get some work done. On her way back home, she swings by the hospital to visit Maddie. 

She hangs out with her every evening after work for an hour, right before Maddie’s dinner is served. They talk about music and Beca brings her guitar because Maddie says she’s been wanting to learn. 

“Good job,” Beca says as Maddie successfully strums through her first song. “You’re really talented.” 

Maddie grins. “Thanks for the class.” 

“You’re welcome. I’ll leave the guitar here if you wanna practice some more during the day, okay?” 

Maddie nods. “Are you coming back tomorrow?” 

“You bet.” 

She’s reached the elevators when she hears her name being called, and spins around on her heels to find Chloe heading towards her. 

“I just wanted to thank you, for everything. Bringing Shawn Mendes here, giving her guitar lessons... “ Chloe sighs. “She doesn’t have many friends because she hasn’t been to school much and it’s nice for her to see other people than her lame mom all the time.” 

Beca smiles, shaking her head. “You don’t have to thank me. She’s a great kid, and I genuinely enjoy spending time with her. She made chemo a lot more fun than I thought it would be.” 

“I’m glad,” Chloe murmurs. “Do you… wanna grab coffee, maybe? Maddie kicked me out, telling me I should take a hospital break.” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“Okay, great. I’ll go grab my coat.” 

They head to the Starbucks around the block as the coffee from the cafeteria sucks, settling at a small table in the corner. Beca orders a decaf and Chloe a hot chocolate. 

“How are you now that you’re done with chemo?” Chloe asks before blowing on her drink and taking a sip. 

“I’m okay. No more side effects except tiredness, but I’m glad to finally be able to work.” 

“That’s good.” 

“Maddie seems to be doing better?” 

Chloe nods as she cradles her mug. “Her test results have improved. I’m hoping she can be home for Christmas. She’s spent the holidays at the hospital last year and as much as the nurses and doctors do their best to make it merry, it’s just not the same.” 

“Yeah, I can imagine.” Beca hesitates for a beat. “Is it… just the two of you?” 

“Yeah. Her dad never wanted to be in the picture.” 

Beca’s eyes soften. “That must be tough, doing everything on your own.” 

“Some days are hard. I’m just-- so fucking tired,” her voice cracks and tears rapidly fill her eyes. She ducks her head. “Shit, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Beca rushes out, covering Chloe’s hand across the table before she can think twice about it. “It’s okay to cry. You’re stronger than you think, and you’re an incredible mom, Chloe.” 

“I’m terrified of losing her,” she whispers, those tears spilling down her cheeks. “She’s my whole life, and she doesn’t deserve any of this.” 

Beca doesn’t know what to say; no words seem powerful enough to alleviate Chloe’s pain. She squeezes Chloe’s hand, brushing her thumb over her knuckles back and forth. “No, she doesn’t.” 

“Gosh, I’m really sorry,” Chloe sniffles after a moment, puffing out a breath. “I guess I needed a good cry and you’re my victim.” 

“It really is okay, Chloe. Anytime you need to talk, I’m here, okay?” 

Chloe flips her hand up, wrapping her fingers around Beca’s. “Thank you. That means a lot.” 

As the next few weeks go by, Beca’s hair starts to grow back (she still wears a headscarf, and will do so until it thickens out), and her energy levels rise back to normal. Work gets busier but she tries to visit Maddie three times a week, usually going out for coffee with Chloe once out of those three times. They text a lot too throughout the week, sending each other memes or cute animal videos. 

Beca finds herself quickly developing a crush on Chloe over their sometimes hour-long conversations about their respective lives, charmed by her sunny personality, goofy sense of humor and both interior and exterior beauty. But she knows better than to do anything about her attraction, as Chloe is most likely not in any place to date right now, if she’s even into women at all. 

Maddie is allowed to spend Christmas at home, and Chloe asks Beca if she wants to spend it with them as she knows Beca doesn’t have anything specific planned. They spend the afternoon leading up to Christmas Eve building gingerbread houses and baking cookies while belting out Christmas tunes. 

(as if Beca needed anything else to fuel that crush of hers, it turns out Chloe sings beautifully.)

They eat a meal of Maddie’s choice --homemade burgers and fries-- and watch The Beauty and the Beast. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Chloe tells her as she makes it back down after tucking Maddie in for the night. Beca started cleaning up in the meantime, having just finished up. 

“I know. It’s no big deal.” 

“Want another glass of wine?” Chloe asks, lifting the open bottle off the kitchen island. 

Beca should head home, but Chloe’s place is much warmer and cozier than her own and she loves hanging out there. She also can’t resist the opportunity of spending more quality time with Chloe. “Sure, why not.” 

“Tonight was really fun,” Chloe muses aloud as they settle back down on the couch, facing one another. “I’m so happy Maddie got to have a real Christmas this year.” 

“Me, too,” Beca murmurs. “It was really nice. And that’s coming from someone who’s not that into the holidays, so kudos to you.” 

Chloe throws her arms up in the air. “Yay! I did it!” 

“You’re a dork,” Beca says, a smirk curving her lips as she shakes her head. “Ugh, I’ve got All I Want For Christmas Is You stuck in my head, thanks to somebody.”

“It’s a good song!” 

Beca rolls her eyes. “It’s cheesy as fuck, dude.” 

Chloe’s giggle makes her heart swell. “Okay, it’s a little bit cheesy. So is the movie.” 

“Never seen it.” 

A judgemental gasp fills the space between them before Chloe backs away. “You’ve never seen Love Actually?” 

Beca purses her lips. “Are you gonna kick me out if I say yes?” 

Chloe’s up from the couch before she can blink. “We’re watching it now.” 

Beca’s about to protest, but she realizes it’s only 9:30pm and she doesn’t have to go to work tomorrow. “Fine.”

Chloe sets it up on Netflix and grabs a blanket, throwing it over her laps as she settles back down. Beca nearly forgets how to breathe when Chloe curls up against her, draping an arm over her waist. She frees her arm from in between their bodies and wraps it around Chloe’s frame, pulling her closer as the opening credits roll. 

“Keira Knightley was my first girl crush,” Chloe states moments later as the actress makes her first appearance on the screen. “Pirates of the Caribbean.”

“Haven’t seen it either.”

“Oh my god,” Chloe laughs, lifting her head from Beca’s shoulder to look at her. “You’re missing out.”

“Mmm,” Beca hums, her eyes momentarily dropping to Chloe’s lips before she can really help herself. She forces them back up to find Chloe’s own gaze on her mouth and, following a beat of hesitation, reaches up to cup her cheek tenderly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. 

Chloe melts into it, her own hand coming up to rest on the side of Beca’s neck as she kisses back in kind. Time seems to suspend as they explore in soft brushes and nips, their bubble bursting when Chloe abruptly pulls away.

“I’m— I’m sorry,” she whispers, covering her mouth with her hand. “You don’t want that.”

Beca blinks, furrowing her brow. “What?”

“You deserve someone that can be all in, not…” she waves a hand towards herself. “Not this mess. My life is so complicated right now.”

“I know,” Beca says softly, covering Chloe’s hand with her own. “I know your sole focus is Madison, and I’d never hold your lack of time for me against you. I honestly— didn’t even think you’d feel the same way.”

Chloe’s eyes flutter shut for a few beats. “I like you a lot, Beca. I just… can’t promise you more than day to day right now.”

“We can do day to day,” Beca murmurs reassuringly. “There’s no pressure on my end, alright?”

Chloe contemplates it for a moment. “Okay.” She leans in to kiss Beca gently, resting her forehead against hers. “Okay.”

They fall asleep in front of the movie, eventually shuffling up to Chloe’s bedroom around midnight as Chloe states it’s too late for Beca to head home. 

Come morning, Beca takes care of breakfast while a nurse stops by to take Maddie’s vitals and do some injections. They open presents next as Maddie is too excited to wait until after breakfast. Beca got her a few books and a VIP ticket to Ariana Grande’s next show in a couple weeks. She got Chloe a full day spa package for whenever she’d like, insisting she could spend the day with Maddie. 

“For you,” Maddie says, extending a small package towards Beca. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything, dude.” She takes the gift nonetheless, opening it to find a rainbow themed friendship bracelet. Beca grins, taking it out. “I love it. Never taking it off.”

The New Year brings good news: Maddie’s health improves enough that she’s discharged from the hospital, and Beca is clear from any cancer, the chemotherapy having worked tremendously. They celebrate Maddie coming home and Beca being cancer free around a homemade dinner at Chloe’s house. 

“Are you guys together?” Maddie blurts out halfway through dinner, causing Beca to nearly choke on her piece of bread. 

She and Chloe haven’t engaged in any sort of PDA around Maddie as Chloe wants to take it slow, but something must have given them away. 

Maybe the heart eyes Beca gives Chloe on a daily basis. 

She briefly meets Chloe’s gaze before Chloe focuses on her daughter, a soft, albeit slight nervous smile curving her lips. “We are, yeah. Is that okay?” 

Maddie nods. “You look happy, Mommy.” 

Beca feels her heart swell, and as Maddie goes back to her food, she leans across the distance between herself and Chloe to kiss her cheek. 

Something tells her this is going to be a great year. 

Over the following months, she, Chloe and Maddie do plenty of activities together now that Maddie is healthy enough. They go ice skating, attend concerts, bake, have movie marathons. Beca falls so quickly in love with Chloe, it’s kind of scary. 

They’re even talking about moving in together when Maddie relapses. 

She’s admitted into the ICU after contracting pneumonia, and the tests show that her number of white blood cells is higher than it’s ever been. 

“Where’s Mommy?” Maddie asks tiredly, twisting her head to look at Beca. 

It’s been a week, and the light has already left Maddie’s eyes. 

Chloe hasn’t gotten much sleep over the last few days, afraid that Maddie might pass during the night, on her own. 

“She went to the bathroom, sweetie. Want me to go get her?” 

When Maddie nods, Beca shakily rises to her feet and swallows down the lump in her throat as she leans over to press a kiss to Maddie’s forehead. 

Beca doesn’t step back inside Maddie’s room once Chloe is in there, preferring to give them privacy. She calls for a nurse, then sits down on a chair in the hallway, tears silently sliding down her cheeks when Chloe starts to sing. 

Her heart crumbles when the song doesn’t make it to the end, sobs filling Maddie’s hospital room instead. She hears the doctor pronounce the time of death, and the machines stop. 

Night has fallen over the city by the time Beca finds the courage to step inside. Chloe is curled up on the bed next to Maddie’s lifeless body, and Beca freezes in the doorway, feeling absolutely powerless against Chloe’s immense grief. 

“Her skin is still warm,” Chloe croaks out after a minute, her gaze blank as she strokes Maddie’s short hair back and forth. 

Beca pads forward slowly, tears burning her eyes as she lowers herself on the chair Chloe previously occupied and covers her free hand with her own. 

“I can’t let them take her away. It’s too soon, I-I can’t.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Beca whispers, her voice nowhere within reach. “Take all the time you need, they won’t take her away until you’re ready.”

Chloe’s parents, whom Beca has met a couple times over the previous week arrive only a few minutes later, and Beca suddenly feels out of place. 

She quietly slips out of the room to let them say goodbye to Maddie in peace. 

Madison’s funeral takes place five days later. It’s a beautiful day, graced with unexpected warmth for the season. Beca stands a couple rows behind Chloe’s family. She helps Chloe’s parents out during the wake following the ceremony, setting out the food and washing the dishes. 

As people shuffle out at the end of the afternoon, Beca is unsure what to do. She’s wiping the last of the dishes when Aubrey, Chloe’s best friend, rounds the corner to the kitchen. 

“Thank you for your help today,” she says with a nod. “I’ll finish up here.” 

Beca gets the message that she’s not needed anymore and nods, setting the dish towel down. “Oh. Right, okay.” 

She gathers her coat and purse and sees that Chloe is speaking to her parents on her way out, and as she doesn’t want to intrude, steps out without a word. 

“Beca.” She turns around halfway down the driveway to find Chloe closing the front door of her house behind her. “You don’t have to leave.” 

“Well, um, you’re with your family and...” she falters, shrugging. “I just didn’t want to intrude.” 

She hates how it sounds like she’s making this about herself when it’s the last thing she wants to do. 

“Can you stay?” Chloe croaks out. “I’d really like it if you stayed.” 

“Of course,” she murmurs without an ounce of hesitation, taking a few steps forward and wrapping her arms around Chloe. Chloe melts into her body, releasing a shuddering breath. “I’ve got you, Chlo.” 

The next days, weeks, months are extremely hard for Chloe, and Beca helps in whatever way she can. While she can’t make Chloe’s grief less intense, as much as she wants to, she can take care of things that will make her daily life easier, like taking care of the administrative paperwork following Maddie’s funeral, sending out thank-you notes, making dinner, cleaning and just being there for her. 

She holds Chloe when she cries, even if it happens in the middle of the night, gives her space when she needs some, listens to her when she needs to talk about Maddie, even if it’s a story she’s already heard. 

“Chlo?” Beca asks upon coming home one evening, about four months after Maddie’s death. She’s been staying at Chloe’s house ever since, and while they haven’t really talked about it, Beca wants it to become a permanent installment, and she’s got the inkling Chloe feels the same way. 

“In the kitchen,” Chloe’s voice carries to the entryway and, after taking her shoes off and tucking them away, Beca heads over to the kitchen, slipping her arms around Chloe’s waist. 

“Hello,” she whispers with a content sigh, brushing a kiss to Chloe’s neck. “Missed you.” 

“Missed you, too. How was your day?” 

“Good.” She takes a step back and hops on the counter, watching Chloe cook for a moment. She hasn’t done that since before Maddie’s relapse and Beca takes it as one small step towards healing. “Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something.” 

Chloe lowers the heat under her pot and steps in front of Beca. “What’s up?” 

“A few months ago, I pitched the idea to Shawn about organizing a concert in memory of Maddie, where all proceeds would go to funding leukemia research.” 

Chloe’s eyes get misty as she proceeds Beca’s words. “You did? What-what did he say?” 

“He agreed. Now we need to work on finding a venue with a limited budget, but I wanted to make sure you were okay with the idea in the first place.”

Chloe slides her hand into Beca’s, squeezing it. “Of course I am. You’re amazing, you know that? I can’t begin to explain how grateful I am for you these past few months.”

Beca leans in to kiss her softly. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” Chloe backs away a little. “I also need to talk to you about something.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I can live here anymore. Everything I see reminds me of Maddie one way or another and it feels like I’m in a continuous loop of grief all day long. I wanna go back to work and— and find a new place to live, in a different neighborhood. With you, preferably.”

Beca smiles and nods, linking their fingers. “Okay, we can do that. Wanna start looking now?”

They find themselves a place in a quiet Brooklyn neighborhood and move in a month later. The concert for Maddie is sold out, and they raise close to $10,000 dollars for medical research. Almost a year after the funeral, Chloe asks Beca if she’d come with her to Oregon to spread Maddie’s ashes near her favorite beach. 

They fly there the following weekend, and Chloe bids her daughter a final goodbye.

“Mommy loves you, baby girl,” she croaks as they watch the ashes being swept away by the wind towards the ocean. 

Beca presses her lips to her hairline, holding her around the waist as tears burn behind her eyes. 

She proposes to Chloe six months later, and they get married in Chloe’s parents’ backyard on a lovely fall day, in an intimate ceremony surrounded by their family and close friends. Two years into their marriage, Chloe brings up a topic Beca has been putting off for a little while. 

That evening, Beca finds her wife on the couch with Maddie’s box opened in front of her. She’s flipping through Maddie’s baby book, a fond expression on her features. 

“That was her first time tasting lemon,” she says when Beca lowers herself next to her, wrapping an arm around her frame as Chloe cuddles into her side. 

“That’s adorable,” Beca comments with a soft smile, her eyes moving to the next picture as her fingers feather up and down Chloe’s upper arm. 

Chloe’s been going down memory lane the past few days, opening up the box that contains all the things she wanted to keep: Maddie’s plush dinosaur, a few Mother’s Day gifts she’d made Chloe, her favorite children’s book and of course plenty of photo albums. 

Her grief comes in waves. Beca knows the loss of her child is not something she’ll ever ‘move on’ from, or ‘get over’. The ache is still present, some days more suffocating than others, and Beca does her best to help her through those. 

“Do you ever think about having kids?” 

Chloe’s question makes Beca briefly pause in her motions. “I do, yeah. But it’s okay if that’s not something you’re ever ready for, I promise.” 

“Up until a few months ago, I thought that having another one would come across as though I’m trying to replace Maddie and I felt guilty. But my therapist helped me through it and... I do want to have a baby with you someday.” Chloe glances up from the album, looking at Beca. “I think-- I think I might be ready, soon?” 

“Okay.” Cupping Chloe’s cheek, Beca leans forward to brush a kiss to her lips. “I love you.”

Oliver Beale-Mitchell comes into the world a year and a half later, four days past his due date. 

“Hello,” Chloe whispers as she walks back to Beca, carrying their swaddled newborn. She lowers herself on the side of the bed. “He’s so beautiful, Becs.” 

A tired yet beaming smile spreads across Beca’s lips as she reaches out to run her thumb over his knuckles, leaning her head against Chloe’s shoulder. Her heart feels full. “Hi little man.” She glances up at Chloe. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Chloe croaks out, seemingly unable to tear her gaze away from their bundle of joy. She bends down to brush a kiss to his forehead. “Welcome to the world, Olliebear.” 

[kirankickskancer]

Halfway.

I am officially halfway through chemo - I have completed 4 rounds of Adriamycin and Cyclophosphamide, and survived the havoc it has wrecked on my body. I feel weary, not just physically but also mentally. It has already been a long haul and there is a lot of fight left to fight. But right now, as I lie awake in bed at 3am because I was so tired that I slept at 9pm, and also because I drink so much water that I have to pee like a racehorse in the middle of the night, I am allowing myself to feel victorious. I made it through the hardest part of treatment. My body fought hard for me every time it was pumped with poison and more cells were killed. My nail beds darkened, my nose hair fell so my nose was constantly dripping, my brain was only half working most of the time and the worst part of all was being incapacitated by tiredness, in all it’s various forms.

There is chemo-induced tiredness the first week when you cannot get out of bed and you don’t even have the mental energy to read or watch a show. Then there is the extreme fatigue related to low white-blood cell count exactly one week after chemo which feels like complete and utter depletion - your brain is back online but your body has been zapped like a character in a video game that is on its lowest energy bar. Finally there is the cumulative effect of all four rounds that makes you feel like you have aged a million years and need to sit down after doing anything. This is the worst one because I don’t know when it will get better and it means I can’t play with the kids the way I used to. I’m missing out on their summer: trips to the pool, playing in our new backyard, exploring the town, fruit-picking, play dates, day trips, beach trips - I can’t do any of the things we did last summer and it stinks. Whatever precious energy I have I reserve for them and I am so grateful on the days I feel well enough to even spend a few hours a day playing with them like I used to.

So here is my list of advice for anyone else who has to go through AC. (This may be TMI for anyone else!)

1. The nurse will tell you to take either Zofran or Compazine for the nausea. Take both! Be as aggressive as possible with the anti-nausea meds. I also started taking Omeprazole twice a day for the heartbearn and acid reflux after a terrible Round 2. Even then, be prepared for constant stomach discomfort. I had to change the way I eat to smaller frequent meals because it felt like everything I ate was about to come right back up.

2. There will be days you have diarrhea and constipation on the same day. Your digestive system will be a mess, keep track of your BM (bowel movements) like they tell you to. Err on the side of constipation because diarrhea sucks. I started off taking Senna every night but ended up with diarrhea. Then I only took it on days I didn’t poop.

3. Definitely suck ice chips during the Adriamycin infusion so you can preserve some feeling in your tongue. And invest in a big insulated water bottle with a straw. Your body wants you to hydrate and I was constantly thirsty and didn’t feel like drinking anything but ice-cold water which I sipped all day. I hate getting up in the middle of the night to pee and find it so hard to fall back asleep so right before bed I would use my Biotene dry mouth spray instead of drinking water and some nights I actually slept right through.

4. You will spend a lot of time with your thoughts as you lie in bed and the rest of the world goes about their business. Make them happy ones. Try not to Google yourself into a rabbit hole of depression with search terms like Metastatic Breast Cancer (1 in 3 cases of breast cancer end up metastatic, FYI.)

5. I love food so I would eat even on days I wasn’t hungry. It gave me a sense of normalcy to eat with the family. Texture becomes important when you start losing your sense of taste, I felt like eating crunchy foods. Fruit is great for hydrating when you don’t feel like drinking, yay for summer watermelon. You may want to over salt your food to compensate for taste, try squeezing limes instead. Eat whatever you feel like and whatever makes you happy not what you think you should be eating or what people tell you you should be eating. You have the rest of your life to make lifestyle changes. Right now you are in survival mode.

6. Aromatherapy. Your sense of smell changes dramatically so get things that make your room and your body smell nice. For me this was possibly the worst side effect. My own body smelled terrible to me. The smell in my room made me nauseated. I can’t explain it but everything smelled unfamiliar and toxic. Candles helped and so did being outside in the fresh air. Neutral smelling body products like talcum powder or kids Honest body wash also helped.

7. When you’re lying in bed all day, it’s hard to get a good nights sleep at the end of the day. Get some exercise if you can. If not, smoke some weed or have melatonin. It’s no fun being awake alone at night. See 4 above.

8. Friends. You need them more than you think you do. Text, call, visit, reach out. Your family is amazing and you couldn’t do this without them but no one can lift your spirits or distract you like good friends can. Work also helped me feel normal. There is a time for wallowing and then there is a time to just get on with your life.

9. Your newly bald scalp will feel sensitive. Buy some caps because it feels cold when you’re used to having a full head of hair. Buy a neck pillow because you will be sitting up in bed a lot. I hate my wig because it feels like I am pretending to be someone I’m not. You will wear it for others not yourself. Mosquitos love bald heads.

10. Love yourself. Love your body. Love your fighting spirit. If I could go back and tell me pre-cancer self anything, it would be that she is perfect. The extra pounds don’t matter, the house doesn’t have to be clean, the kids can watch all the TV they want, it’s okay. Self-care is not indulgence, it’s necessary. Treat yourself as you would treat the most important person in the world, because you are.

[vonnyphant]

1st Chemo

Oh boy, today did not go as planned. I will be honest with you in a minute, but for now, let’s enjoy the fantasy I had concocted in my head about this moment : 

I wake up in a good mood to fight the Big Bad.

I eat a healthy, responsible meal, I dress sensibly, with access to my port but still warm and stylish and I pick a hat that says ‘maybe I have cancer, but it might just also be that I like whimsical hats, who are you to say?’. It has elephants on it- cute in a kawaii sort of way, and absolutely no flowery grandma pattern in sight. My granny would never.

I put on a smattering of make-up to accent my eyes- not too much because I am not Like That(tm) but just to make myself seem accessible and friendly underneath the hat and the mask covering most of my face. Oh, and earrings, to show the buzzcut did not deminish my feminity.

I am driving to the clinic, I arrive, we all have a hearty laugh as they install me in a luxurious chair in a well-aired but warm enough office room and there’s a drip in (as the blogs say) a lovely shade of pink that matches my hat. I get out my laptop and read some overdue stories people sent me to critique; I might write a chapter or two of my own work, just for bragging rights (’oh, you got writer’s block? I wrote my fic during chemo.’)

I possibly nibble on a healthy snack that I brought in wise foresight. When I get tired of writing, I read a self-help book, use my new sketch book to artistically document this step, write a letter to my kids about how much I love them, or I take out my phone and post a few selfies of me on the drip which show the reality of everything but still manage to look cute. Time flies by. 

Everyone would tell me I am handling this like a hero and call me their inspiration. I go home, pick up the kids, and resume life as normal. I possibly get awarded the nobel peace prize.

Well. Here’s how it really went, with a not so glamourous selfie.

My driver was 5 minutes early and kept the motor running outside. I was still shoveling a not-so-responsible breakfast into my mouth while I combed kids’ hairs and help look for a second sock (I am telling you it was on the couch last night I don’t care if it’s your lucky sock mommy is gonna be late ffs!) I wonder if I am allowed to have a double espresso before chemo. No time, so I leave the house grouchy without coffee.

In the bustle, I forget my phone at home.

I arrive early, and the clinic is still closed. They open on time, but it’ll be a while before they can get to me. I read a few pages of my book, but it’s almost finished and I grumble how I would have time for a quadruple espresso at home if I had known they’d stick me in a waiting room for half an hour.

At the preliminary, they tell me the pain in my arm over the port is normal and expected to be endured for at least another 6 weeks. (Noice). They scold me a bit for looking up blogs on the internet that write about the port being ripped out by a seatbelt or the skin bursting open for no reason. I am at least a little reassured this won’t happen irl.

They show me the lovely office with the chairs- three of them. It’s empty and sunny and well-aired. This is it, I think, my leisure time without the kids. I install myself comfortably and wait for the drip.

Instead, a nurse brings bags of frozen coolpacks, and explains my feet and my hands will be wrapped in them the entire time; 30 minutes before the drip, and during the 1,5 hour infusions. 

It feels like hell. It instantly feels like the way your appendages feel after you spend an hour on the playground listlessly pushing a swing going ‘can we go home yet mommy is so cold and she needs a pee!’. It starts hurting insistently, and after a few minutes I imagine my feet and fingers are turning a purplish shade of black and I look like a soldier in Napoleon’s army stuck in the snow in Russia. (I can’t see my actual feet and hands but the mind is creative like that)

Worst of all- I can’t do anything. No laptop, no book. No art. Just me and my brain. My terrible brain that can’t stop thinking about frostbite and trenches and Tolkien. And the drip isn’t even pink! Why did I wear this hat. This is the longest I have been without my phone in years. I am a literal cold turkey.

Two other patients arrive. I notice with envy they are getting comfortable with their phones and a laptop- they are on a different kind of drip and it looks cozy af.

Meanwhile I think that if I move, one of my toes will break off and I wonder how many I can lose before I lose my grip on the world. A nurse comes and, despite wanting to be the perfect patient, I ask instead if I am really to endure this icicle torture and what they’d say about this in Geneva. (actually, I ask if this isn’t maybe worse than the nerve damage it’s supposed to protect me against)

The nurse is taken aback (which my brain immediately interprets as ‘SHE HATES YOU’) and she tells me patiently (brain: snippishly) that nerve damage is not to be joked with and feeling ‘a little cold’ is uncomfortable but the alternative is losing my fine moter skills and not being able to walk anymore.

I manage to nod until she goes away, then I cry. My perfect smattering of makeup runs and tears drip into my FFPE2 mask. I accept that maybe losing a toe or a finger is worth enduring this because with no sensation in my fingers how would I type, paint, sew, sculpt- without my feet how would I dance? I take off my earrings, because they are starting to hurt and that is, at least, something I can do to make myself feel better.

The ice burn turns numb and I dose off for a little- only half, because the other guests (with their fucking laptops, netflixichilling! All I get is chills) constantly have beeping monitors going on, signifing their drips are ready. Not only do they get to entertain themselves, they are there less long than I am. Oh, and both have a lovely head of hair or very convincible wigs. I tell myself I could spot a wig from a mile and can only conclude they are getting the VIP chemo, that does not make your hair fall out and does not require freezing. Must be privately insured. Another patient arrives, gets a drip, reads his newspaper in comfort, and leaves before I am done. (what an asshole). The only small mercy is that no one tries to chat with me - though I admit me wearing a hat, noise cancelling earmuffs, a mask and runny make up is not very inviting, and my scowl at them probably least of all.

Time passes slowly (and never ‘all at once’ like falling in love in YA fiction).

I am finally done. The needle removal from the port hurts so much I instinctively jerk away and jostle my bad shoulder; which is like pulling away from a spritz of butter from the frying pan with the pan still in your hand, only to launch the entire contents of the pan on yourself in reflex instead. (have you ever done that? because I have). Good times. I get to go home and spend the whole drive home complaining to my father in law. He valiantly tries to cheer me up, failing. I am not inspiring anyone. I am not picking up the kids. I also didn’t write any letters.

I take a sad selfie for documenting sake, take a long hot shower and put myself in bed. I take a nap under 3 blankets, wondering if I’ll ever feel warm again. I am no one’s hero- I am tired and feeling very very sorry for myself.

[evanbuckley-heartofgold]

Congrats on followers! Totally deserved 😍 This might be a bit of a weird prompt but I had a dream (yes that's how badly I'm missing 911s) that ended abruptly and I'm dying to see how it will end lol. ANYHOW: Owen trying to hide his pain until he can't (*insert something dramatic happening*) and discussion with TK follows. I know I've said this before but I'm so happy I discovered you 😭😭

Thank you so much! I love these prompts you send in! I hope you like it <3

Read on ao3 (1.7k)

Owen groans as he sits up, his whole body feels heavy, like his bones are made of concrete. He wants nothing more than to lay back down and sleep the day away, but he is a fire captain and he has duties. So with another groan, Owen forces himself out of bed. 

The second he’s standing on his feet, he nearly crumbles to the floor. A sharp, shooting pain, ignites through his fingers and toes and his legs shake, seemingly having a hard time supporting his weight. He grunts in pain, not wanting TK to hear him from his room across the hall. 

Owen sits back down on the edge of the bed, taking a slow breath through his nose, before reaching into his bedside drawer and downing some of the pills his doctor said could help with the side effects. He prays that they’ll start working quickly. 

He winces as he rises to his feet once more and starts his day. Everything takes him longer, getting dressed, doing his hair, it all takes nearly double the time it usually does. As it stands, Owen gets downstairs just as TK is shoving the last few things in his bag and yanking on his shoes.

“You ready to go?” TK asks. Owen nods. 

He doesn’t protest as TK takes his work bag as well as his own and heads out to the car. It’s days like today that Owen is glad that his son is a worrywart. TK jumps into the driver’s seat, he hasn’t let Owen drive since he found out, and starts the car. Owen plasters on a smile for his son, hiding the pain boiling under his skin, and shuts the car door. 

TK doesn’t need to know how much pain he’s in, it will only make TK more worried. He wants his son to see him power through and beat this cancer, not collapsing at every step because the chemo is kicking his ass. 

At the station, TK once again takes Owen’s bag and drops it in the locker room before bounding into the kitchen like a puppy. Owen watches him, wishing he had that much energy. As Owen walks into the station, he can’t help but wince at every step. Pain shoots up from his feet into his legs, and he has to keep from visibly showing any pain. TK can’t know. 

“You doing okay, cap?” Marjan asks, looking down at Owen from the top of one of the trucks. 

Owen smiles up at her, “All good, I think I just slept weird last night.”

“Judd made breakfast,” Marjan tells him, “or actually Grace made breakfast and Judd brought it in. You might want to go grab some before Mateo and TK eat all of it.” 

“Will do,” Owen says and walks away from Marjan’s prying eyes. He imagines himself lifting up a facade of himself, smiling and the perfect fire captain for his team. 

In the kitchen, Judd pushes a plate of food towards him and nods for him to sit with the rest of the team, “Thanks, cowboy,” Owen smiles and takes the plate. They eat, quietly chatting about their days, all of them too tired to have a real conversation, and with a twelve-hour shift in front of them, they’re all wanting to conserve energy. 

Unfortunately, just as breakfast finishes, the bell rings, eliciting a groan from everyone. “Up and at ‘em,” Owen encourages as they jog off to the trucks. 

“Three story house fire,” Owen informs the team, looking over his shoulder. “There are at least four people trapped inside, possibly more. Mateo, Paul, and TK, get the water, use the hydrant if you have to. Judd, Marjan, and I will head inside.” Everyone nods. “Listen, the building might be unstable so the second I call for an evac, you do it, got it?” He asks the question directly at Marjan who rolls her eyes but nods. 

Everyone jumps out of the truck when they get there, but Owen is forced to take it a little slower. Pain shoots through his fingers again as he pulls on his mask, but he shoves it down. There are people to save. 

He nods at Judd and Marjan and leads them into the building. 

Owen works on instinct as he searches the house with his team, pulling people out, getting them out of the smoke, and clearing rooms and floors. Finally, Judd radios that he and Marjan are helping the last victim out. 

“I’ll follow you guys out,” Owen tells them. He’s on the second floor now and the smoke is getting thick. But Owen picks up his feet and steps down the stairs. But with every step, the pain grows worse and worse in his feet. His legs shake, growing weaker and weaker from exertion. 

His heavy gear weighs him down even more, but by some miracle, Owen makes it to the ground floor. But the exits feel miles away. 

“Cap, you out yet?” Paul asks through the radio. 

Owen stumbles, catching himself against the wall, but then his legs fully give out, sending him collapsing to the floor. He tries to move his arm, but the pain only grows worse and worse with every movement. 

“Captain Strand, please respond.” It’s Judd now, his voice wavering. “Are you out of the building?” 

Owen blinks slowly, his body feels too heavy. He can’t do this. 

“Dad! Dad, please,” Owen can hear TK’s panicked voice in his radio and he struggles to his feet. His son needs him, he can’t abandon him. TK needs him to live. 

Owen finds strength deep inside of himself and forces himself to his feet. The image of TK is so present in his mind. Owen manages to take a few steps, leaning against the wall but he can’t move after that. The pain is too great. 

“TK…” Owen breathes softly. He wants to reach up and turn on his radio, he wants to tell TK how much he loves him. His son’s voice comes over the radio again, begging him to answer. Owen can’t find the strength to reach up to his mic. 

When TK was a baby, he used to stare up at Owen with such wide-eyed fascination and trust. He looked at his dad like he hung the stars in the sky. And at that young age, he probably did. Owen loves his son more than anything in the world, he has to fight to get back to him. 

Then out of the smoke in front of him, a tall figure emerges. They grab Owen around the waist and start running out of the building, hauling him along. Once they’re outside, Owen collapses to his knees as the paramedics surround him. As he is laid onto his back, he can see his son’s watery green eyes looking down at him with incredible pain. 

“I’m sorry,” Owen breathes. The last thing he sees before he passes out is TK covers his mouth as he sobs. 

...

Owen wakes up slowly. 

He feels someone holding his hand and around him he can hear the hum of voices, though he can’t make out what they’re saying. His body feels heavy, like he’s going to sink right through the bed. It’s nice, he decides, a break from the immense pain he has been in for days on end. But as much as he struggles to stay awake, he falls right back into the darkness.

When Owen wakes up again, he can hear voices this time. 

Judd sighs, “I know you’re worried, but your dad would want you to take care of yourself. Why don’t you come home with me and get some real food instead of this nasty hospital stuff. You can sleep in a real bed.”

“I can’t,” TK’s voice is so shaky it worries Owen. “I can’t leave him.”

“He would want you too,” Judd says wisely. “Come on.” Owen silently pleads with his son to go home with Judd. There is no one he trusts more to take care of his son than Judd. 

“Fine.” 

Owen lets out a breath of relief as TK’s chair scrapes back. Judd quietly mummers something to TK, too soft for Owen to hear and their footsteps walk out of the room. Owen allows himself to sink back down into sleep with the knowledge that someone is taking care of his son when he can’t.

The third time Owen wakes up, he actually opens his eyes. “Dad?” Owen blinks and finds TK looking down at him, eyes red. “Dad!” TK exclaims. Before he knows it, Owen has an armful of TK. Owen wraps his arms around his son as TK buries his head against his shoulder. 

“I’m okay,” Owen murmurs, kissing the top of TK’s head. He doesn’t know if it’s true, but if it will help TK calm down then it doesn’t matter. “I’m okay, TK.” 

“No you’re not,” TK says, his voice muffled against Owen. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were in pain?” TK demands, sitting up. “I could have helped you and this wouldn’t have happened.” TK yanks on his hair, “Side effects of chemotherapy are weakness, nausea, lack of concentration… Why didn’t I notice?”

“Hey,” Owen takes TK’s hands out of his hair to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself. “This is not your fault TK.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?” TK looks at his dad with watery eyes. 

Owen smiles sadly and touches TK’s cheek, “I didn’t want you to worry any more than you already were. I wanted to push through and be strong for you.”

“I don’t need you to be strong,” TK shakes his head. “I need you to be alive.”

“TK…”

“No,” TK snaps. “You could have died. Do you realize that? I-I’m not ready to lose you.” 

Owen’s heart breaks in two. “Okay, come here,” Owen opens his arms and lefts TK fall back into them. Owen runs a hand up and down TK’s back, “I’m sorry, kid. You’re right, I should have told you.”

“I thought we promised that we wouldn’t keep things from each other.” 

“I know,” Owen sighs and runs a hand through TK’s hair, “I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t think it was as bad as it was. I thought I could push through. Listen to me, I promise that from now on I will tell you everything that’s going on with my chemo. But,” TK looks up at his dad, “you have to promise me to be honest when you’re scared, okay? I’m not the only one this cancer is affecting.” 

TK looks unhappy at the deal, but says, “Okay. I love you, dad.” 

Owen smiles and kisses the top of his son’s head again, “I love you too.”

[meg-tann]

again

a/n: hey my lovelies, you can tell by the title you guys are probably gonna cry but this idea stuck in my head while editing a prince from hell and well I had to get it out of my system. Hope you like it as much as I did writing it. 

summary: The reader mum had cancer and when she finally received the news she was in remission while filming, the reader runs to tell her beloved co-star and fiance Sebastian Stan only to find that he was already having a good time without her. 

warnings: ANGST!!! and light smut you know if you squit

pairing: Sebastian stan x reader, Sebastian stan x another co-star 

Story!

“CUT!” The director David Lynch shouted smiling widely at you and your co-star Luke. 

Awesome job guys! I don’t think we will need to be re-doing that scene. Luke, we need you for one more scene but...” He trailed off looking down at his notice board to check again. “y/n we will only be needing you for that final scene later so go ahead and take a break” He continued. 

You nodded your head, the final scene wasn’t for another 1 hour so you had loads of time to kill before you needed to head to hair and makeup. You went behind the cameras and popping your bum down on your set chair saying hello to some of the crew and cast there as well. You dug through your duffel bag for your phone and pulled your brown almost ginger hair from its tight ponytail sighing as your hair felt freer. 

You almost immediately got bored and your gaze shifted to your fiance Sebastian’s trailer that sat about 60 metres away from where you were, He had gone in there earlier because he said that he needed to take a phone call and hasn’t come out yet, You shrugged thinking it was probably important so you decided to scroll through Instagram replying to some of your fan’s comments on your recent post. It was a picture of you that Luke had taken of you whilst on a break. 

Your beautiful body that you worked hard for was clad in a skin-tight black leotard suit much like Scarlett Johansson’s black widow costume. Your hair was flowing freely in the wind and the light had hit your face perfectly highlighting the faint freckles scattered around your cheeks. You had your fake guns strapped into your thigh holsters and was holding onto Luke’s sword that you had swung behind your neck. Your face was tilted up slightly and a soft death glare and smirk that you confidently wore on your face. You looked absolutely badass. 

Several celebrities ranging from Robert Downey Junior to Zendaya, Tom and the rest of the spiderman far from home cast were posting lovely comments down in the comments section. It made you smile widely. 

You continued scrolling through Instagram when you got a call from your dad, You instantly picked up thinking that something was wrong with mum. Three years ago, your mum was diagnosed with stage 3 lung cancer and the doctors gave her about a year to live. This news absolutely devastated you and you didn’t leave the house for days until Sebastian forced you to go visit her in the hospital. Even sick, your mum managed to make a smile and look beautiful. You and Sebastian helped pay for her Chemo Therapy and her different treatments which eased your conscience slightly knowing that she was getting the best treatments available. 

You picked up the phone and walked away quickly to get some privacy but you stopped instantly in your tracks when you heard your dad let a cry. You felt tears building up and your mind went straight to the worst-case scenario.

“Dad?” You said wavily. 

“Hey love” Your dad answered.

“Is mum ok? Why are you crying? Oh my god please tell me she is ok? I’ll fly back right now” You started panicking, tears leaking out earning you some concerned looks from the crew walking past. Then, your dad let out a laugh or joy which confused you beyond the end. 

“Love, your mum is in remission. The doctors confirmed it today” Your dad said, you could practically hear his smile through the phone. He expected you to be screaming with joy but he was only met with silence. 

“Darling?” He asked concerned. You were frozen, your mum was in remission. It finally started to settle in. 

“Oh my god”

“Oh my god”

“Oh my god” 

You repeated crying tears of joy, collapsing to your knees. YOUR MUM WAS IN FUCKING REMISSION. 

“She’s ok” 

“Oh my god” You continued to cry, it seemed like the only words in your vocabulary suddenly was ‘oh’ ‘my’ and ‘god’ but you didn’t care. The smile never left your face as you continued to talk to your dad and even mum for a few more minutes as mum needed to rest from jumping up and down so much from the news and hugging the doctor. You swore that women is the most inspiring person ever. 

When you put down the phone, you screamed out in joy and ran around the set nearly bumping into a few people and cameras. You ran all the way to Sebastian’s trailer, not bothering to knock even though he was probably busy with the phone call. You burst into his trailer.

“SEBASTIAN! MY MUM-” You started to say before cutting yourself off when seeing where your fiance was or better yet who your fiance was with. Your mouth dropped in shock when you saw Sebastian on top of Michelle, the girl who played his love interest in the movie. His cock was still inside of her and when his annoyed gaze shifted to see had interrupted them, only to see you on the verge of tears. He gasped and stopped everything jumping off Michelle. 

“Sebastian?” you asked in a small voice, tears falling rapidly down your face. You watched as Sebastian struggled to pull on his clothes that he had thrown on the floor from his previous activities. It was like all the feeling in your body had left, you couldn’t feel anything. Until Sebastian came forward and grabbed your wrist. Suddenly, anger and pain flooded into your system and you roughly slapped his hand off of you. 

“Stay to fuck away from me” You hissed at him, anger and hate dripping with each word you spat at him. You saw him wince with each word but at this point, you didn’t seem to care. You spun around and ran out of his trailer only for him to run after you without even one doubt in his mind. 

“Y/N!” You heard the voice that used to bring you comfort but now just brought you pain. his voice. You didn’t even glance back to look at him but he was persistent.  

“y/n! please just look at me! please” He begged. You turned around swiftly, walking up to him. 

“What” You spat looking up at him. 

“Please, that wasn’t what it looked like” He begged some more.

“Really? really Sebastian because it looked to me like my fiance was fucking that slut I call a co-worker. All I wanted to tell you was that my mum was in remission but I guess that is not the only thing that made me cry today” You spat more. He might be taller than you but you watched at that second where Sebastian didn’t look like the big strong man that he played out to be. 

“Hey, she is not a slut,” He said and your eyes widened in disbelief. That was he got from that? seriously? and to think that my mum actually loves him like a son. You scoffed, turning away and walking away from him but he ran after you and grabbed your forearm tightly. A little too tightly. 

“ok ok please just listen” Sebastian pleaded.

“With you filming for this movie and you being the main character and everything, I just didn’t see you as often anymore and I-” You stared at him and let out a pained laugh. 

“You didn’t see me as much anymore” You scoffed, tears not stopping. 

You turned to face him, you were so close that you could feel his shaky breath on your tear-stained face. “That is absolute bullshit” You whispered. 

“How many times were you the fucking main character in a movie Sebastian? HOW FUCKING MANY?!” You shouted poking him in the chest each time. 

“SO fucking many and NOT ONCE did I ever cheat on you! Even when you left for months and then re-shoots! NOT once. And now when I finally get my big break you cheat on me then come up with a bullshit excuse? because let me tell you something Sebastian, You are a piece of shit.” You spat.

That's when you saw it, the change in body posture and facial expression. Sebastian was fuming. 

“You know what you piece of shit? You wanna know the truth? Sure I fucking cheated on you because YOU are a disgusting rat and fucking terrible in bed. I only fucking proposed to your sorry ass cause I felt bad for you to know you wouldn’t be able to find anyone else. ” His words dripped in hate, you looked in his eyes to see if it was just the rage talking but no. He meant it. He really did. 

You finally cracked. You let a sob of just pain as it flooded every inch of your body. You stared at him but his face didn’t soften in the slightest, the same hate that spat those hurtful words at you. You looked down at your finger and saw the beautiful diamond ring that Sebastian proposed to you with.

x

You remembered that day so clearly, It was 2 years ago. You were wearing a flowy flowery maxi dress and Sebastian was in your favourite tight black shirt and black jeans that hugged his thighs so nicely. It was sunset and the sky was filled with vibrant reds, oranges, pinks and purples. The palm trees were blowing in the wind and the fairy lights that were hung from each made the place look like a fairytale. The waves were crashing against the rocks as you and Sebastian strolled down the white sandy beach of Hawaii. You sighed happily and let go of your boyfriend of 3 years Sebastian’s hand to turn and get a better look at the sunset. 

“Thank you for taking me here sebby,” You said smiling and breathing in before turning back to smile at your boyfriend. Then, your breath caught in your throat, there was Sebastian, down on one knee, holding out a beautiful yet simple diamond ring. 

“Y/n, you are literally the most beautiful women in the world and you are my whole world. You are my everything and I love holding you when we sleep, I love kissing you goodnight and whispering soft nothings into your ear when you have a bad dream, You are the only women I could ever see myself with. You are brave, talented, kind, selfless, loyal, funny, generous and so so so pretty. I would continue but we would be here all night and day if I listed everything I love about you. Urgg... I had this whole speech planned in my head and I’m just-” You cut him off by collapsing down the sand, crying and hugging him so hard that you both fell to the sand. 

“Yes,” You whispered shakily into his ear. You looked at him and pressed your lips into his soft pink ones. 

That night was the first time that Sebastian made love to you and truly showed you how much he really loved you. 

x

You went silent replaying that memory as you snapped back into reality, the only sound was Sebastian’s fuming breaths and your sobs that you tried so hard to choke back. You watched as he didn’t say anything but hold out his palm, no emotion placed on his face. You let out a final cry as you wiggled the ring and so many memories off your finger placing it in his hand. 

He whipped his hand back and immediately walked away not even giving you a second glance. You did what you knew, run. 

You ran out of the set building. Little did you know that, after you turned away Sebastian did look back. He looked down at his hand to see the ring, the pain finally set in knowing that you were gone and it was all his fault. He didn’t mean anything. He loved you. 

He ran after you. 

x

You ran until you reached the main street. The pain was still flooding your veins. 

“Your disgusting rat”

“Terrible in bed”

“Sorry ass” “Felt bads for you”

“Never be able to find anyone else to love”

It repeated over and over in your head. You wanted it to stop. Your tears didn’t stop flowing and you didn’t notice that the light had become red when you started crossing in the middle of the road. The last you heard was the sound of a car horn blaring loudly and a strong impact on your side. Everything went black.

You were free.

x

Sebastian ran and ran, He finally reached the main street. There were police and a crowd of people all surrounding one spot. He felt the blood leave his face and he prayed that nothing happened. 

“Move it people”

“fucking move it” 

He said pushed roughly through the crowd. That’s when he saw you. Your eyes were closed and there was dried up blood and fresh blood dripping from your head and stomach, staining the concrete road. He gasped and dropped down the ground not caring if he hurt his knees. He grabbed your body and hugged it close to his chest. Your blood staining his t-shirt, pants and hands.

“No no no no no” 

“Hey babydoll, you're ok, you have to be” 

“please god no, please don’t leave me” 

“You're ok” 

He cried and cried. He felt sick like he was going to throw up, his body was numb as he just cried and cried. He rocked your body back and forth. He couldn’t lose you. He reached his blood-covered hands into his back pocket and pulled out the ring. He cried as his trembling fingers slipped the ring back onto your ring finger along with the diamond-encrusted wedding ring that he had purchased a few months ago. He looked inside and reading the writing engraved into the ring.  ‘sunt cu tine până la sfârșitul liniei prințesei’

Romanian for “I’m with you till the end of the line princess” Sebastian whispered to himself before letting out another cry 

He reached up to your neck and noticed that you didn’t have a pulse. It was like a spear had stabbed his heart 50 times and somebody ripped his heart out of his chest and stomped on it continuously. 

Finally, the paramedics arrived and he was forced to let go of your body. They offered to let him ride with you which he immediately said yes. 

x  

He watched behind the glass as they tried to get your heart beating. 

He watched behind the glass as they failed. 

He watched behind the glass as they tried again.

He watched behind the glass as they failed again.

He watched behind the glass as they announced the time of death.

He prayed.

“You can’t leave me y/n, this is all my fault, please god take me instead” He pleaded. 

“Please don’t leave me”

“please”

“I can’t live without you”

beep. beep. beep. 

Your heart started beating. 

again.

x end x

a/n: ok, I’m sorry that the ending was shit but I hope you kind of like it. let me know.

[btgalaxy]

Twisted

➳ pairing: yoongi x reader

➳ genre: mafia!au, angst, eventual smut, maybe fluff

➳ word count: 3k

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Chapter 3:

        “And this here,” Taehyung points in the direction of the open space of which Yoongi surveys like a human embodiment of CCTV, “is the main training area, canteen, sparring ground. It’s the heart of the Enterprise.”

You nod, responsively, “why do they train so hard?” You gesticulate towards the men, throwing punch after kick after slap, all with the intention of slaughtering their opponent, “surely, there isn’t much actual fighting in this… business. I’ve never heard of some huge mafia war.”

“You think Yoongi would allow any of our goings on to be monitored by the government, let alone the press?” He scoffs, “the man isn’t the head of this place for nothing. The men have to be in top form 24/7, else the second the opposition find out we’re taking a day off or whatever, they’ll be here like a pack of wolves massacring the whole fucking place, it’d be a ghost town down here once they’re through.”

You swallow, “by the opposition- you don’t mean-“

“Damn straight I mean your ex. Man’s a killer. Doesn’t know a target from his parents’ faces.” There’s a glint of a smile on his lips.

You frown at what Taehyung is insinuating, employing a bitter tone, “don’t make up lies about him.”

“Duckie, there’s all sorts of rumours going around about him as it is. In case you haven’t realised, he’s sort of public enemy number 1 around here.”

You had noticed, actually. You’d noticed the glances people would give you as Taehyung was taking you around pointing out all the different departments to you, clearly aware of your relationship to Jimin. Some of the men would look you over once, then turn away in disgust, else others would smirk suggestively. To say the least, if you weren’t perceived as a sex object, you were someone nobody wanted to be involved with.

You and Taehyung walk through a new tunnel, close to where your room is situated, as he begins telling you about the origins of the Enterprise.

“Yoongi’s parents were the ones to find this place- an abandoned military HQ. It wasn’t as discrete; they built the house up top and battered it a bit so nobody would be tempted to come lurking around. Then, they bought the land above us and henceforth owned everything below it and the Enterprise was born. It’s a shame his folks aren’t here to see it now.”

As you saunter along, you push your mouth to one side, “did they die?”

Taehyung gulps back, glancing about momentarily with a nervous expression, “yeah, yeah they did.”

You don’t ask anymore questions regarding the former directors, after Taehyung’s apprehensive demeanour to which you pin down as it just being a touchy subject. You continue your exploration down the corridor, but as you turn down another darker, less accessible tunnel you notice a door, somewhat ‘pushed aside’ but from the worn metal on the handle you can tell it’s obviously opened frequently. And that smell in the air; like the smell of rubber, of alcohol, of… metal? You can’t really tell, but it’s prominent and lingers around your nose and mouth, threatening to waft up even further and poison your internals.

“What’s through there?” You interrogate, detouring away from Taehyung’s increased pace the opposite direction of the doorway to instead make your way over. A hand on your shoulder, however, prevents you from doing so.

“That’s out of bounds, duckie. Strict orders from above.”

“Then what’s that smell?”

“I can’t smell anything.”

You take a dramatic breath in, inhaling the pungent aroma deeply to make a point, “what do you mean you can’t smell anything,” you cough a little, “it smells like shit down here.”

“You probably just need to get used to it. It’s a long way from home, duckie.” He hits your cheek lightly, “come along.”

Disregarding your insistence that there’s something up with that tunnel, the door, the smell in the air, you trot along behind your tour guide, eagerly watching out for anymore dubious looking areas, though it’s a doomed endeavour; the place is an underground mafia institution after all- the whole thing is out of the ordinary.

“Here, I’ll introduce you to Kook and Joonie.” You recall one of the names, but aren’t entirely sure from where.

Yourself and Taehyung roam into what seems to be a security camera room, filled to the brim with PCs and technological equipment- all seeming far too advanced for any amateur to be dealing with. There’s a man sat in the chair at the very centre, with another leaning over him from behind, hand gripping the back of the leather seat. The two seem entirely consumed with some virtual game, yelling profanity at it and hitting each other when they mess up.

“Fucking hell Joon, have you got eyes? He was clearly in front of you,” he leans forward, smacking the man in front over the head.

“Get out you moron, I ran out of bullets.”

“Then reload you stupid fucker-“

The man in the chair groans before interrupting, “I can’t just reload-“

“Just press that button it’s not-“

“Fuck off already I’m the computer tech not you.”

“Doesn’t make you any less shit at this.”

“You little shit you-“

Taehyung interrupts the two with a cough, to which the man at the back of the chair turns around, revealing a bandage on his free hand and your eyes widen. Fuck, so that’s how you recognise the name. He looks you up and down, raising his eyebrows, then falls into a blank expression when you make eye contact. Taehyung simply smiles at the interaction, suddenly patting a hand over your shoulder.

“Y/N, meet Jungkook,” he announces, “I assure you he is just as sweet as he tastes.”

“Funny,” Jungkook snarls, merely glancing at you one more time before turning back to look at the game, “don’t expect me to get along with her, Tae. She did take- Joon fuck! Let me do it you bellend.” His hand is instantly reaching out to yank the controller from ‘Joon’s’ grip, shoving him from the chair so he’s forced to get up. You can’t help but allow your eyes to drift towards the bandage covering the bite mark, wondering how big a chunk you took out of it.

The man sighs, ambling over to you with a slight limp and a wooden stick in his hand, before Taehyung introduces him, “and this is Namjoon; the finest hacker and tracker you’ll ever meet.”

“Sounds like a porno,” Namjoon comments.

“I’m sure you’d like that,” Tae winks back, “Joonie is also head of drug shipments, and was part of the team that found out about you.”

“So you’re the reason I’m stuck here?” You turn to face the man adopting a deathly appearance to shoot glares his way.

He holds a hand up in surrender, “I can’t ignore my orders. Yoongi allowed me to come in with an injury- an unlikely occurrence in a place like this, so to start rejecting his demands would put me back out on the streets.”

You suddenly feel a little guilty, delineating that he must’ve been in a difficult situation with a clear permanent limp, “how did you hurt it?” You glance at his leg, to which he mimics, tapping it with his stick to create an unexpected clanging sound.

“Not hurt- gone. Amputated after they found a cancerous tumour in the muscle- I could either let it spread to the rest of my body and have to undergo years of chemo only to still die within a few years, or have it removed altogether. And now I’m part android, so naturally I got good with computers, which Yoongi thought was a good enough reason to let me in.”

You mull over the fact that not all the people here may be sick, twisted killers that you perceive them to be; some may not have had a choice, or it could’ve been a way out from a life they didn’t want to carry on living. Yes there are probably some near-psychopaths prowling about but you still become aware of the subtle moments of morality, hidden in the silence and behind the scenes of the vicious attacks.

“Y/N is gonna start training with Jin. We’re just headed over there to go introduce him.” Taehyung reveals, and Namjoon lets out a single laugh, clearly amused.

“Good luck with that. I’m surprised he’s agreed to train a girl.”

“What’s wrong with training a girl?” You interject, with a snappy tone.

“Nothing, nothing,” he insists, “it’s just Jin has a thing about training girls. He doesn’t like it.”

“Well he’s gonna have to like it. She’s starting tomorrow,” Taehyung reassures, wrapping an arm around you. You suddenly feel a lot more nervous to meet this man, fully aware he will be your main point of contact whilst living here as your trainer and for him to dislike that time with you just… well it wouldn’t be ideal.

You say your goodbyes to Namjoon and Jungkook, leaving them to yell incessantly at the computer screen after a minor debate about how those games actually contribute to their work- they just told you guns were guns, virtual or not. And that comment manages to bring up your defences again, with the realisation that even if in a former way of life they may have been innocents, now they’re killers. By their own will or not, if they aren’t actually killing people then they’re helping. It dawns on you this could be your new lifestyle also, but you push those thoughts back so not to succumb to the sinister outlook of your life now.

Traipsing down yet another tunnel, you hear the grunts and huffs of men throwing kicks and punches. The smacks against sandbags echoes against the stone walls and swims through your eardrums, threatening to explode them with every movement you take closer. The smell hits you next; of sweat and gym equipment. Then, as you walk through the main training area, you come face to face with your new mentor.

He grapples against another man, of smaller stature but fast pace, and dodges his hits stealthily before throwing his own, far better timed as they hit him dead on till he’s winded and bent over, wheezing. His hair sticks to his forehead, as he uses the back of his hand to wipe away a layer of perspiration and moves to his water bottle at the side, now making criticisms of the man’s skills.

“You rely on your speed, but you need to improve your strength. And your tactics are poor and predictable- don’t go for the first attack you think of, you’re quick enough to think first and to then make the unexpected move,” he gulps down a mouthful of water, swirling it around his mouth before swallowing it down, “go spar with the boys. You need to practise thinking before you hit.”

As the man jogs off, looking rather disheartened after that assessment, Jin whips a towel around his neck, finally turning to you and Taehyung stood watching. The dark expression on his face as he spots you indicates he has been pre-informed of your arrival, and you take a gulp when he begins to stalk over and Tae nudges you forwards with a smile playing on his lips.

“Jin,” Taehyung bows slightly in respect, which Jin reciprocates, although still not taking his eyes off of you.

“This is Y/N?” He scrutinises your figure intensely, almost making you squirm and recoil from his gaze.

“The one and only.” Tae shoves you closer again, and you snap your head round to glare at him before slowly turning back to face Jin, still looking you over again.

“She looks weak.”

“Well she’s never even set foot in a gym.”

“How do you know that?” You cry turning to Taehyung, suddenly feeling rather targeted.

“Read your file.”

You pout to yourself childishly, “I have been in a gym before.”

“It doesn’t look like it,” Jin finally addresses you face to face, “your arms and legs have no muscle, they’re just fat and bone.”

You wrap your arms over your chest, feeling conscious now he’s observing you so closely, “well I never needed to be strong or fast, or be able to fight.”

“It’s always good to be able to defend yourself.”

“I never needed to.”

“Clearly you did considering you got abducted and brought here?” His retort silences you instantly as you wet your lips, perhaps a little awkwardly with the sudden tense atmosphere. He sighs, looking at Taehyung and then returning to a punching bag hung up to the left, leaving you both stood alone.

“Jin?” Taehyung glances at you, then at him, now busy launching hits at the surface, “what time should Y/N be here tomorrow?”

“She shouldn’t be here tomorrow. She’s an unnecessary distraction from real work with the men.” A fire starts in the pit of your stomach. What a fucking misogynist.

“Yoongi said-“

“I don’t care what he said. This is my department and it won’t be ridiculed by some feeble female incapable of opening a jam jar, let alone fighting a trained assassin.”

You’re about to step forwards and begin rocketing insults at him at full force after slandering your whole gender, but another presence gets there before you. And you’re surprised to find Yoongi looming behind you, having watched the entire scene unfold before him and now stepping forwards, smirking as he comes into your eyesight.

“Jin, how are you this evening?” He asks, casually. Jin falters for a second, pausing from his punches to glance over, before nodding his head curtly and returning his attention to the equipment in front of him.

Yoongi nods, raising his eyebrows slightly, “so what seems to be the problem with training her?”

Jin carries on with his work out, not even glancing over at his boss, “she’s weak. She’s too far behind. She won’t catch up.”

“Well that’s why I’ve entrusted you with the job, over the other trainers. She needs a lot of work.”

The fact that they’re talking about you in third person right in front of your face further ignites the fire burning through your veins, but you refrain from letting your tongue loose on their blatantly rude manners, considering one is a mafia boss and the other a highly skilled combatant.

“She will hold back the other men.” He ceases all movement suddenly, panting as he looks over at you and Yoongi, “it’s not right to hinder the progress of my division for some girl nobody wants here.”

Surprisingly, Yoongi isn’t happy with Jin’s comment whatsoever, deduced from his squinted eyes and furrowed brows capturing the man in a fatal glare, “need I not remind you of what you owe me, Seokjin. She’s stronger than she looks. If you give her a chance, you may find she’s got a better work ethic than some of these so-called ‘men’ you’ve been training up for months.”

Your stomach leaps as Yoongi becomes to threatening, all at your cause. It seems fictitious that such a man could even attempt to defend your honour, but similarly you don’t look too far into it, considering he’s doing nothing that won’t benefit him also. And obviously Jin has some kind of debt to repay, that he ‘owes’ his boss.

Jin pokes his tongue in his cheek before exhaling in frustration, “be here by 4am in workout gear.”

A small hint of smile slips through your lips as he gives in, feeling something similar to victory as he concedes to Yoongi’s demands.

“I’ll work you to the fucking bone so you better get ready.” And with that he returns to his punching bag, arms tensed as he vents his irritation through the form of aggression.

You turn around to see Taehyung has obviously wandered off, and you’re now left with Yoongi, flicking his head to the side to follow him away from Jin’s area. You follow behind him, away from the main training grounds and towards a staircase leading up to his office. Once inside, he turns to you, smirking smugly.

“I believe you might have perhaps a bit of trouble with your new trainer.”

You let out a sarcastic laugh, “you don’t say.”

He grins back, looking somewhat satisfied, moving over to his desk, “if he does cause you trouble you need to tell someone. I need you trained, not collapsing everywhere.”

“Trying to be some kind of hero now are you?” You suppress a smile, etching its way onto your expression.

“Only for my new favourite.” He takes out a file from his desk, “I’ve got something for you.”

He passes you the envelope of paper, to which you take apprehensively, unsure about its contents. As you open it up, you’re shocked to find a collection of photos of you as a child, your family and your friends. All the photos from your childhood through to the day you broke up with Jimin and came here- all sorts of memories bundled into one folder and gazing up at you nostalgically.

“What is this?” You murmur.

Yoongi sits at his desk, “I figured you may not see them for a while. So photos are the next best thing. God knows it’s how everyone else copes.”

Although the whole concept is pretty morbid and you now know he knows where the people you love are, the gesture seems unusually kind. You do, however, take notice that none of the photos include Jimin- even to the extent of him being visibly cropped out of some. But you don’t mention it.

“Thank you.” It’s the first sincere thanking you’ve done since you’ve been held captive here, after not being able to voice your thanks to the old lady that left you books.

“It’s nothing.” Yoongi dismisses, and you simply roll your eyes in response.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You start uncomfortably making your way to the exit.

He nods, brusquely, “I’ll look forward to it.” He glances up incredibly briefly, with a gratified smirk on his lips before you leave with an increased pace, a knot forming in your throat, restraining you from breathing.

And as you’re walking down the corridor, you reprimand yourself for being so friendly with a murderer. Flirting, even. You come to the decision it’s better to focus your mind on other things- the books the woman leaves and your new start to training as of tomorrow. You take a breath in. Focus.

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[justinsdaysinthedark]

Post #9 - Metotrex-HATE

August 20th: Life’s funny sometimes. When it’s going easy, you cruise through and enjoy all the good times. It’s easy. It’s like playing a video game on speed run. On the flip side, when life’s difficult, time slows down to a fraction of normal. You drag through hour by hour, looking for when some positivity will come.

My past week has been so incredibly tough. I never felt like a cancer patient before, but as bad as it is to say, I certainly do now.

I wrote in my last blog that “Day 10 is when things pick up again volume wise and from them until the finish, I'll basically be on a drip 24/7 and constantly have to be monitored - totally different to these first five days.” My god I couldn’t have been more correct.

Day 10 of my treatment started about 3:30pm on August 9th and was a 24hour chemo drug called Metotrexate. I was on this drip for 24 hours and I had no idea what it was going to do or how it was going to leave me. I do now!

This drug finished around 3:30pm on Saturday August 10th with the aim of it to kill my immune system and blood cells and leave me a walking corpse...and no surprise, that’s exactly what it did.

Last week, starting from as soon as the Metotrexate finished I was so incredibly sick. It’s hard to explain, but I’d definitely take the flu over what I just experienced...and I’m still not through the woods yet. The first few days weren’t too bad, I was simply tired with no energy. I slept during the day and night. I had no motivation to get up, move or do anything. So I didn’t. I slept.

The next few days things started to get worse and worse. Picture this, one day you’re perfectly normal with normal temperatures and heart rates. The next day, your temperature soars above 40 degrees and your heart rate is constantly sitting dangerously between 125-140BPM. This second part was me for the next few days. The scariest moment was last Wednesday when Courtney was here. I was sitting in the seat next to my bed, just sitting. Doing nothing. The nurse comes into do my observations and I start to sweat and feel weak. My heart rate is sitting at 145BPM, temperature at 40.3. I feel like i’m going to pass out, I actually think I do. The nurse demands Courtney to press the emergency button and everybody comes rushing in. This is what was my first of three Medical Emergency Calls (Medcall) for the 48 hour period. It was scary. Fortunately, my resident haematology doctor Adam was working late for whatever reason and took charge of the Medcall. Once I’d ‘come to’ slightly, Adam asked if I could move to my bed. It legitimately wouldn’t have been any more than a metre if that but it seemed like he’d asked me to run three in cricket - something we all know is never going to happen! I got up and staggered across and fell onto bed and by then, an announcement was on the loudspeaker.

“Medcall Adult, Monash Medical Centre. Ward 44. Haematology”

Before I knew it, I had 25 people in the room and was getting hooked up to an ECG machine. It truly was scary for me. Courtney was a trooper though. She stood in the corner and watched what was unfolding. In a way, I think we were both settled at the fact my resident doctor Adam lead it from start to finish. If he wasn’t there, who knows how we’d both have been.

It happened again another two times - both 7am and 7pm the next day. These two were far less scary because I knew what to expect.

At this stage, it’s Thursday August 15 and I am at the lowest of low. My mouth, throat and stomach are ravaged with ulcers. Something I don’t think I was ever going to avoid! I’m not hungry. I can’t eat due to these ulcers and drinking is near impossible.

I’m in incredible pain, all over. I have no immune system or anything to fight infection - which I was obviously getting with all my fevers. The pain team came around to see me and suggested I went on both Ketamine and Oxycodone to help with the pain. I was in no state to argue, so that I did. Boy oh boy did these give me two days of hallucinations though! Spiders climbing across the walls, people surrounding me talking when I slept; it was such a throw around.

All whilst this is happening, my hair is starting to fall out. Something I knew would eventually occur but never expected it to actually happen. It was bad. I was pulling chunks of hair out of my hair and beard. It was surreal. Alas, mum came in to cut my hair and Courtney brought in my razor to give it a shave. Both were tough tasks feeling so unwell, but we got there in the end.

Saturday August 17th around 2:30pm is when I started to pick up a little bit. I was able to sit up out of bed and try and entertain a conversation. Everyday since then has gotten better and better, albeit incredibly slowly. That puts us at today. I’m up out of bed, sitting next to my window writing a blog - something that was a world away a week ago! Only mum, dad and Courtney would understand as they have been there everyday through my lowest.

How am I today? I’d be lying if I said I were great however I’m the best I have been in a fortnight. I still have mouth ulcers and still struggle to swallow tablets and drink water. I expect this to go over the next two days - there’s just one ulcer at the back of my throat that is giving me grief. As a result, I’ve been taking a routine mouthwash three times a day to numb my mouth. The Peter Mac mouthwash, a cocaine based liquid followed by a lignocaine gel. Between these three, I’m able to ‘clean’ my mouth, numb the ulcers and make it bearable to either eat yoghurt and take my tablets - but trust me, it is still incredible tough.

Today marks Day 20 of my 16 Day treatment and as soon as my white blood cells return to a normal count, I’ll be allowed to go home for a few days before I start my next round of treatment next week. Apparently the white blood cells need to be 1-1.5 and mine were at 0.3 yesterday and 0.5 today. Hopefully, just hopefully my bone marrow kicks into gear over the next day or two and I’ll be home towards the end of the week - that’s the goal anyway! I’ve been hooked up to a drip 24/7 for the past 11 days and quite frankly, I’m over having a buddy to take everywhere. I can’t change my shirt so I’ve had to wear the same shirt for three or four days in a row. For those that know me, should know I love being clean. So that’s killed me. It’s also made showering hard, but no impossible. It just depends on my mood. I’ve been here 38 days straight and it’s just starting to get to me. What I’d do for a few days at home is a killer.

I spoke to my Doctor Adam yesterday who advised September 22nd was in the realms of possible for me to get to the fundraiser those closest to me are organising. A day that I’m really looking forward to and I just hope I can make it. Details are below.

That’s about it from me for now, hopefully this explains why I’ve been M.I.A for so bloody long. I have left out a lot of other details and touched over the basic stuff...so just trust me when I say this Chemotherapy and cancer business certainly isn’t easy! Until next time,

Much love.

Juzz xx

[dimples-of-discontent]

Hello, it is I, a 34 year-old woman who has come here to talk about someone I know who may or may not have a crush on me but it’s irrelevant because 1) he’s not single and 2) I have cancer so I’m not going to date anyone anyway. But guess what? I don’t care!! Some things just never change and the kind of “am I reading this right??” insecurity that you have when you’re a teenager just never goes away.

So, hey, if you’ve missed me I’m here to deliver all kinds of silliness tonight! I’ve been away lately because, during the week, I went to an appointment in Boston with a doctor from Harvard who specializes in the kind of breast cancer I have and (hurray!) think it really paid off and I think I’ll be treated there. Then, for the weekend, my NY-area friends and I went away to a cabin in the woods for pre-chemo celebration/togetherness. (Don’t worry; it wasn’t like a horror movie.) It was totally wonderful. I drove to and from the cabin with the dude in question. My adolescent ramblings below.

So, back in August I wrote this silly post about whether I was over- or misinterpreting my friend’s behavior. At the time, we’d been friends for about 3 months and he and his GF were long-distance. Now, we’ve been friends for an additional 7 months and she’s lived with him for 6 of those. They are now both actually my closest friends in town and really high on the list overall too. I like hanging out with them together and separately. We’ve got a neat nexus of overlapping interests so that any combination of the 3 of us has lots to talk about and a lot of fun. I’m somewhat closer to him, because we see each other SO often and because we often confide things in each other. I’m close to her too, though. It’s rare to find such good friends and, honestly, that’s the only really important thing. I have no interest in losing that.

Anyway, my read on the situation back when I posted in August is now pretty much that he was stressing out about the imminent arrival of the GF because they hadn’t been living together and she was moving there without a job just to be with him and that’s kind of a lot. I have no idea if it had anything to do with me. I think it may have, just in the sense of an additional thing. I think it’s likely that he had some level of crush on me--although even if not we were definitely good friends--and was worried about how that would change with the addition of a partner would change either dynamic. 

It all worked out because the minute the three of us met as a group we clicked instantly. We spent the summer and fall going hiking together and all having long conversations in the car and on the trail. We watched movies together and threw a Halloween party. He and I see each other 5-7 days a week (since we work together) and have a constantly active text conversations (the 3 of us have a GC too). I worried about intruding, but both of them invited me to stuff and were happy to be invited. (I did find it hard/annoying to try to see either one of them socially without the other...they do the couple thing of coming along as a unit but, ultimately, I didn’t make a thing out of it b/c they are great.) I could see how much he relaxed, literally the first few hours we all met up together as it was apparent how well we all got along. So, maybe he was worried about what I was going to do myself as well as his feelings? Who knows.

So I was pretty much on the side of “this was a temporary crush that abated once GF moved in and he remembered why they were together and it was clear that that wasn’t changing just b/c I was around.” That’s true, I think. But...ok. So, I’m very much one for crushing on, hooking up with, and getting into relationships with friends. I find it hard to know any other way. This means that I’m constantly keeping a lid on low-to-high level crushes for unavailable folks. (I think my brain is just wired for romantic/physical attraction to align with emotional closeness...too bad I’m only romantically and physically attracted to men though.) So of course--of COURSE--there is a part of me that wants us to be dating. Inevitably. It’s not helped by the fact that he reminds me so strongly of my first serious boyfriend, a wonderful guy I was with for 3.5 years. And, generally, I blame myself and this fact for any over-reading of things. But then I wonder if I’m not just gaslighting myself (an expert move) b/c I am so worried about coming off as arrogant by thinking he does have romantic feelings.

There are plenty of small things aside from just the constant contact. For one, he was deeply upset by my cancer diagnosis and is taking it all (including my feelings about it) very seriously. And, yeah, that is a very valid reaction, but we haven’t known one another that long...even my exes and friends from 10+ years ago haven’t been as affected, and the people who are have have been in my life for absolute ever. I’m shocked that he and the GF are willing to go through this with me since I feel like I haven’t given them much as friends so far, but they absolutely are so clearly they are just great people.

More frivolously, when one or both of us is intoxicated or otherwise in an altered state he’ll let himself be a lot physically closer to me than usual. Like, it’s actually notable that usually he tries hard not to be touching me, in a way that just has to be deliberate. Friends sit together and knock their shoulders or elbow each other or will pat backs, ruffle hair, share blankets, lean into each other...all the kinds of touching that communicate intimacy without it being sexually charged. If we do that by accident, he’ll move away fast. Except if he’s drunk. And even then it’s absolutely nothing untoward, just drifting into my space, resting knees together. One time we were standing in line for fried food after a bar night, with the GF, all happily drunk, and I leaned into him so our shoulders and arms were pressed together as I read the menu. He moved away so that we weren’t touching. Then, a fraction of a second later, he moved back so that we were pressed together again, like he’d made some kind of decision to do it. He also *never* says anything about my appearance. Like, not even “you look nice” when I’m dressed for an event or “I like your haircut.” Maybe he just doesn’t want to be brought in to validate me or something, but again it feels like it goes against the social norms for friends but makes sense if he’s trying to conceal non-platonic feelings.

We behave enough like a couple that people who encounter us, even at work, often believe we’re together. We share food and drinks (from the same plates or cups) and often bring things that the other has left behind at our places. We have to try not to get the giggles at meetings when inside jokes come up. We tease each other with stories only 2-3 of us (him, me, and GF) know. This is all kind of dumb and, mostly, background noise to a great friendship. I decided that we’d just always have a little tension/chemistry but that we’d probably never mention it and that’s fine. That’s likely right! But this weekend he and I drove up to this cabin together (about 3 hrs each way) and things felt...loaded?

I’m getting tired, so I may need to write down the rest of my thoughts later. But, on the way up, we listened to music and drove through the dark and had some good conversations about friends, family, work, life, etc. The weekend was great (about which more later, hopefully) and then today on the drive back (which, again, is close to 3 hours) we did nothing but talk. First, about life stuff and then, rapidly, about our entire relationship histories. We’d exchanged a lot of that info before--including how much I remind him of the GF before this one, which we affirmed again when I referred to her as “the one who is basically me” and he said “yeah, and in more than the superficial ways too.” To be clear, he wasn’t talking about his current relationship or implying anything like dissatisfaction with it. There was just a whole LOT of dating history, hookup history, good/bad feelings and experiences; the kind of long convo you can have with a friend while burning miles of highway.

We took a break, got back in the car, and I laughed and said “I feel like that was pretty much my whole history but if there’s anything else you want to know AMA!”. I didn’t expect him to take it seriously but he did and basically asked “What crazy things did you do when you were younger” and I was like “in what sense? and what’s do you consider ‘crazy’?” and he was like “I mostly mean sexually...and you get to decide what counts.” So, I don’t have a totally extensive experience to draw from but I have some so I shared a few and was like “what about you?” and then he shared a few. And we had actual real conversations about how relationships make you feel and about the weird nexus of desire and shame that can happen. 

Eventually I was like, “I think that’s everything I could tell you...anything else you wanted to know?”. And he goes quiet for a L O N G time and goes “is there anyone in [place where we live] that you have like a crush on?”. And I am rolling my eyes internally (and possibly externally) because EITHER this is the most obvious ploy to get me to say “oh it’s you!” that I’ve ever heard, or else he so TOTALLY doesn’t think of me that way that he’s not even counting himself as a possibility. So I just go ahead and say, “well, if you weren’t in a relationship I would want to date you” b/c I am not going to coyly misdirect. I’m watching the traffic b/c the highway is crowded so I don’t know what face he made but he says, “Thank you. I mean...yeah. I could see that happening. [pause] But what I meant was is there anyone you have just, like, an idle crush on?”. So then I feel kind of dumb because was that his way of letting me down gently? OR was it way of saying “yeah, what you’re talking about with us is more than an idle crush”?? One way makes me feel stupid for saying anything, and the other makes me feel like he pretty much just told me that we’d be dating if he weren’t with someone else - which is what I suspected but which I also thought it made me arrogant to think. (Or maybe it was just a way to not have to follow up on us both basically admitting that if things were different we’d be a couple.)

There was some other odd stuff, though none of it felt weird in a bad way just like it stuck out a little. (FYI, it was all in fun and not at all awkward - we are super comfortable together.) I was talking about how several times I’ve gotten together with guys for a short time who then went back to their long-term girlfriends and how one of my other friends said I was a “what if” girl; like “sure I have a girlfriend but what if I were with HER??”. And he was like, well yeah, that’s possible and a huge compliment b/c why not dream big? And then later said that clearly I could be a homewrecker if I ever wanted to be (though we both know I wouldn’t). He also told me about another girl who was his ex’s roommate who just started texting him again talking about how she’s unhappy in her relationship; he says they always had chemistry and that she’s reaching out b/c of that but that, obviously, he’s just playing dumb in the text messages and pretending that’s not what she’s doing. But, like, is he letting me know that other people like him? Why? Basically, I couldn’t get a handle on whether this conversation, whatever else it was, had a subtextual vibe of “I have doubts/questions about my current situation” or not.

Having typed it out, though, it sounds a bit like it does? And like they might involve me? Or that it’s just fully a “bad timing” kind of thing where we could date but obviously never will. Can we at least conclude that this is someone who is attracted to me?? It sounds like that, right?

I mean, it also sounds very silly and not appropriate to my age to be going over in such detail but, honestly, if it’s distracting me from cancer that’s kind of just good. Anyway, you are readers and writers of fic and consumers of literature so I appeal to you to let me know what YOU think is going on here...aside from the fact that no matter what I have a great pair of friends who I care very much about. I welcome the distraction....though if you could comment and not reblog that would be great. And thank you for reading this diary entry. ;)

[pinkstarbeam]

The girl down the road has cancer (A plance AU)

DISCLAIMER: THIS AU CONTAINS SENSITIVE TOPICS SUCH AS THE FOLLOWING; CANCER (SPECIFICALLY LEUKEMIA), NEEDLES USED FOR MEDICATION, DEPRESSION, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, HOSPITALS, AND JUST OVERALL A REALLY FEELS FILLED AU THAT YOU ALL ASKED FOR. ENJOY THE PAIN I’VE WRITTEN FOR YOU, YOU HEATHENS (Love you guys tho o3o~<3)

Lance had lived in the same neighborhood his whole life so when a new family was moving in down the road it immediately peeked the interest of the seventeen year old

With a pie from his Mother in hand that served as a ‘Welcome to the neighborhood’ he walked to the newly occupied house and rang the bell

Matt, the eldest son of the Holt family answered the door which relieved Lance as most the occupants of the neighborhood were retired couples mixed with empty nesters 

“I’d invite you in, but we are still unpacking and my parents want to ‘De-Germ’ themselves before going to see my sister.” Matt joked

“Is your sister a germaphobe or something?” Lance joked back

Matt’s smile faltered “Oh uhm..No..She’s sick.”

“Sick?” Lance asked feeling bad for the joke he made

“Yeah, she was recently diagnosed with Leukemia, she’s in the children’s hospital here because, they specialize in it, hence why we moved here.”

“Oh man...Well tell her that she’s in my families thoughts and prayers.”

Matt’s smile returned a bit “Thanks, Katie will be happy to hear we’ve already met some nice neighbors.”

Just then Matt’s Mom called and the two parted ways

Returning home Lance laid on his bed as he stared at his family portrait on is bedside table, he had no idea how he would handle it if any of his family members ended up getting that sick, the mere thought was enough for tears to sting his eyes. He decided in that moment that when he could, he would go see Katie and do his best to help her though this as a new friend whenever he didn’t have to be elsewhere.

In the hospital Katie sat listening to the machines around her, the constant beeping would have driven any normal person mad, but thanks to growing up around computers she was fairly used to all the many noises they could make

Looking towards her door she watched as one of her doctor came in “You better be here with peanut butter cookies Shiro.”

Shiro laughed as he took a seat on his stool “I’ll see what I can do about getting you some later, for now I need to ask you how you’re feeling right now before we start your first chemotherapy session.”

Katie sighed as she looked down to her hands, she had heard chemo was painful and drained your energy, even if it was supposed to make her feel better, she wasn’t ready to feel that way

“I’m okay..I just...” tears stung her eyes “It’s not fucking fair.”

“Language Katie..”

“I’m sorry but, it’s just...Last summer I was competing at the nationals for robotic design and now i’m..”

“Stuck in a bed.”

“Yeah.”

Shiro gently touched her shoulder “It’s going to be a hard journey Katie, but I can promise you it’s going to be worth is. We cure eighty percent or childhood cancer and though it isn’t good you got sick in the first case, your leukemia is still in it’s early stages which means that within the year you should be able to leave the hospital aside from monthly check ins.”

Katie knew eighty percent was a goo odd, but the twenty percent liked to weigh on her mind more 

After discussing how she felt her first IV based chemotherapy session took place a few hours later once her family had arrived to support her

She felt lousy to the say the least

Her Mother’s grip on her hand was almost painful, but Katie knew her Mother was secretly worrying herself sick behind her strong wife and mom facade

As for her Father he looked as if he hadn’t slept since in who knows how long, actually she did, he hadn’t slept well since her diagnosis

Matt sat at the foot of her bed “A kid your age stopped by today, friendly guy, think he said his name was Lance? He said him and his family will keep you in their thoughts and prayers.”

“How nice of them, isn’t that wonderful Katie?” her Mother asked

Katie didn’t answer, she was feeling weaker by the minute 

“We should let her rest.” Her Father finally spoke “We can take turns coming to see her tomorrow.”

Her Mother and Matt nodded before the three of them said their goodbye’s and I love you’s before Katie allowed the fatigue to take over

Months passed and what was left of Katie’s long sandy brown hair was becoming patchy due to her medicine, she hated it, the mere sight of the patches filled her with anger towards her body, how could she be so weak? Why couldn’t she just die already!?

She quickly backpedaled that thought as she looked to the picture o f her family that sat on her bed side tray

tears began to spill from her eyes as she screamed at the top of her lungs and threw her pillow across the room

Shiro quickly hurried in and was followed by a few nurses

He quickly hugged “Katie, Katie calm down, it’s okay.” he spoke softly as he calmed her down “Look at me.”

Katie slowly pulled her face away from his shoulder looking up at him

“Do I need to ask Adam to come talk to you? Would that help?”

Katie nodded, Adam was the teen therapist at the hospital as well as Shiro’s husband, the two of them keeping her sane when her family wasn’t around

Shortly afterwards Adam came in and gave Katie a small smile “Tough morning pidge?”

The sound of her nickname lifted her heart a bit, she hated how formal her name was beginning to sound.

“I...I don’t..”

“It’s okay, take you time.”

She nodded and took a deep breath “I...I keep getting these thoughts..”

“Thoughts?”

Another nod “I..I thought that maybe things would be easier..if i just..died.”

She noticed Adam’s face fall before he took of his glasses “Can you pinpoint why you thought that?”

“It’s just, if I hadn’t gotten sick my-”

“I’m going to stop you there, Katie, you did not choose to get sick and there wasn’t anything you could have done to prevent this.” he gave he a small smile “You’re getting better, I know the medicine makes you feel gross, but  that means it’s working and if it’s working then that means you’re nearly out of here.”

Katie held a fistful of her blanket “..Things will never be normal again will they?”

“Well.” Adam paused “There is no such thing as normal, life likes to throw us curve balls just to mess with us, but the best way to hit them for a home run is adaptation.”

“What do you mean?” Katie asked

“Change is a part of life, it itself is basically the curve ball, if you allow the change to come, you can hit it and show life that you’re not backing down.”

Katie smiled a bit “Just like with my cancer..”

Adam’s smile widened “Exactly, you’re showing life that you’re going to fight to live, that change won’t stop you.”

Katie opened her arms and Adam chuckled giving her a hug “Anything else?”

“I..Could we shave my head?”

Adam blinked in shock “Are you sure?”

Katie nodded “It’s not weakness...It’s progression.”

Lance had been stopping by ever since he was given the okay, at first he only came when Matt was there but, after getting a bit closer to Katie he began to come see her after his chores

“Afternoon Ka-” he paused see Katie wearing a green knitted beanie that looked like it had little cat ears

“Cat got your tongue McClain?”“ Katie asked as she forced herself to eat her lunch

“You cut it off-er I mean, not that it looks bad!” Lance rubbed the  back of his neck

“It’ll grow back once i’m finally in remission.”

Lance took a seat in the chair by her bed “Any word when that’ll be?”

“Well it’s been nearly half a year..Weird to think it’s nearly Christmas.” Katie aid looking to the Christmas lights that one of her nurses had hung up for her

“So half a year to go then.” Lance said trying to keep the air happy

“Yeah..” she looked down at the cold tomato soup and sighed “I just..If I get one Christmas miracle it will be that i’m out of here before my sixteenth birthday.”

“When is that?” he asked sipping his water

“April 3rd”

“I mean, that’s not a crazy wish, it’s only two months short of a year.”

“I’ve had to do my sophomore year online, which isn’t bad, but I wish I at least had friends- well other then you I mean, life real classmates.” she sighed

“Well if you’re in remission that means you’ll get to come to school next year and bask in my seniority.”

“If you don’t get held back” she snorted

“W o w.” he flicked a chip at her

Katie laughed “Hey!”

A smile crossed Lance’s face, he secretly loved it whenever she laughed, it made his heart happy to see her happy

The first time he met her she could barely even speak to him and now here she was laughing with him

“Oh right! Did you ask Allura to the prom yet?” Katie asked sipping her juice

“That’s like asking if I, a lowly farmer, have taken the hand of a princess.” Lance huffed

“Oh please, just ask her out already you pansy.”

“What about you?”

Katie blink “What about me?”

“If i’m at the prom then who will be here with you?”

Katie fanned her hand hiding the slight blush that colored her cheeks “I’ll be fine, i’ll just make fun of your monkey suit another day.”

He snorted “I’ll have you know I look great in a tux.”

“Cause you’re a monkey.”

As Katie’s birthday drew closer she began to think she was stuck until June, but then, two days before her birthday, Shiro came in

“Are you ready to go home?”

“Shiro that’s not funny, I know it’s April fools day, bu-”

He shook his head “You’re officially in remission Katie.”

Katie felt tears sting her eyes “You promise you’re not joking?”

He nodded “We went over you last charts and it seems that your leukemia is nearly gone, we’ll need you to come on for monthly check ups though.”

Katie was sobbing into her hands, she couldn’t believe it, she was going to finally leave the hospital after nearly a year

After hugging her Shiro left to call her parents, and Katie, well Katie called Lance

“He..Hello? Katie? Katie it’s five in the m-”

“They are releasing me today!”

“Wait what?!”

“I’m in remission Lance! I got my wish.”

Lance smiled “Will you get to come to school for the last month?”

“I doubt that, I’ll have to wait till next term, but that means we can hang out this summer.’

“Oh yeah! And you can finally meet my friend Hunk, you’ll love the big guy, he’s great!”

The two talked well until Lance had to leave for school and soon enough Katie was standing in front of her new home

“It’s not truly home but-” Her dad began but she cut him of

“Wherever you guys are is home..”

Her parents and Matt hugged her tightly before heading in

Baebae quickly bounding towards her girl who she had missed oh no much

By the time Lance got out of school Katie had finally gotten her room to her liking

With a knock Katie allowed him in

Lance walked in and couldn’t wipe the smile of his face as Katie stood there watering some succulents

“Not gonna miss that hospital smell.” he joked

she giggled ‘I’m not gonna miss it at all.” she sat down on her bed

“So are you okay to leave the house?” he asked

“I’m supposed to take it easy for a bit, my body is already sore from just moving back home.” Katie admitted

Understanding Katie had to think about her health he settled or the two of them catching up on RWBY on her laptop

As prom  got closer the more Lance was beginning to worry about prom, he had wanted to ask Allura, but here recently he guessed his crush had faded

When he thought about about the type of girl he liked he came to a very quick conclusion 

He liked Katie

However Katie couldn’t come to prom seeing as it wouldn’t be safe for her, because if she got sick again he would never forgive himself

So, he got an idea

Come prom night Katie heard a knock down stairs and went to answer it to find Lance standing on her front porch in his tuxedo whilst holding a bouquet of flowers

“Wow you do actually clean up nice.” Katie smiled “Are you on your way to pick up Allura?”

“Nope.” he held the bouquet out to her

Her cheeks turned slightly red “What are these for?” she asked taking them

“Well, this is my way of asking you to my personal prom.” 

“Personal prom?”

He nodded “I was just gonna dance the night away by myself, but I thought it would be more fun with you.”

She snorted “You’re such a dork.”

“Only for you.”

The two went up to her room and  turned on some music

Matt and her parents even joining in at times 

Between dancing they took video game breaks and before either of them realized it was well past midnight

Katie laughed as she laid back on her beanbag holding her wii remote up in victory “I win!”

“Only because you blue shelled me on the second lap!” Lance huffed

“Oh shush you hit me with a bullet in the first lap.”

“Touche.”

There was was a knock on her door and the two looked up to see her dad standing there

“You two should get some sleep it’s late, Lance if you want you can sleep downstairs.”

“It’s alright, it’s not like I live far.” he smiled getting up “I’ll see you tomorrow Katie.” he waved as he grabbed his suit jacket and left

Sam followed him out “Hey Lance.”

Lance turned to look at him “Yes Mr.Holt?”

“My students call me Mr.Holt, feel free to call me Sam.”

he nodded

“I just wanted to thank you for befriending Katie, she didn’t have a lot of friends outside her robotics team back at home, so when she got sick it was easy to tell she felt alone.”

Lance smiled “She’s a cool girl..It’s an honor just to get to be her friend.”

Sam chuckled a bit “Probably would be a bigger honor to be her boyfriend huh?”

Lance turned red as he gave a nervous laugh “I-I mean.”

Sam laid a hand on his shoulder “Relax, I think you’re good for her so, if you ever want to ask her out one of these days you have my blessing.”

Lance felt a smile come over his face “Alright, good night Mr- Sam!” and with that he headed home unable to wipe the grin off his face

Summer came and Katie sat in Lance’s back yard reading as Lance swam in his pool

“Katie come on the water is nice!” Lance whined

“I already told you I don’t want to swim.” Katie laughed

In all honesty, she actually didn’t know how 

However the next thing she knew a wet Lance was  throwing her over his shoulder causing her to drop her book “Lance don-”

But it was too late, the boy already jumped in the pool

When they came up for air Katie was coughing and clinging onto Lance for dear life

“See it fee-..Are you okay?” he asked worried when he felt her shaking

“I can’t swim.” she admitted coughing up some water

Lance immediately felt like shit “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s embarrassing, i’m sixteen and can’t go past the five foot line..”

“I could always teach you? Then we can go on a beach date!”

Katie blinked blushing slightly “Date?”

Lance quickly realized what he said “I-I mean if you-”

She laughed splashing him with a bit of water “Date it is.”

//Thank you guys or being patient with me

[txnysheart]

let’s get on with living (while we can) [8]

chapter 8: thoughts are scattered and they’re cloudy

word count: 5977

warnings: chemo side effects, vomiting, anxiety, pretty heavy emotional angst, referenced suicide

summary: clint comes for a visit, and the harsh reality of the situation isn’t lost on anyone

read on ao3: x 

playlist: x

chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4 - chapter 5 - chapter 6 - chapter 7 - chapter 8 - chapter 9

series masterlist | masterlist

━━━━━━━━

“Is that mine or yours?” Tony mumbled, not even opening his eyes. He and Steve were still in bed, as was Peter in his own bedroom, and they’d been woken up by a phone ringing. Steve grunted, leaning over to the headboard on his side of the bed where they’d both left their phones.

“Yours,” he yawned, picking the phone up and placing it in Tony’s outstretched hand, then slumped back down on his pillow. He didn’t know what time it was, but it was too early.

Without looking at the caller ID, Tony answered the phone. “Hello?”

“The hell’s going on, Tony?” He recognized it was Clint’s voice, and if he’d been more alert, he would definitely have caught onto the fact that Clint had called him by his first name instead of the usual ‘Stark’.

“Top o’ the mornin’ to ya,” Tony said in an overdone Irish accent, and wasn’t surprised when Steve lazily slapped his shoulder. “Is that you, Barton?”

“Yeah. It’s me.” He sounded agitated. Impatient.

“What’s so urgent that you had to call me at,” he forced one eye open to check the time, “five thirty in the morning? Damn, that’s four thirty for you.”

“Was hoping you could tell me, actually.”

“Oh?”

“Just got off the phone with Nat. The press conference.”

“Oh,” Tony breathed out, realization jolting him awake. Clint didn’t know. “What’d she tell you?”

“That it was about Peter, and I’d have to call you. She wouldn’t say anything more than that.”

“I’m putting you on speaker. It’s just me and Steve.”

“Sure. Just tell me what’s going on, she sounded strange.”

“You should, uh… Are you sitting? You should be sitting down.”

“What- Just get to it before I lose my damn mind!”

“Hey! I’m serious, Barton. It- It’s bad. Really bad.”

“I don’t- Sure. Yeah, okay, I’m sitting down.”

“Okay. Uh… It’s Peter. He, uh… Ah, shit, Steve, how do I say this? Fuck.”

Steve held his hand up to stop Tony before he could spiral. “I’ve got it, honey,” he assured Tony, sitting up in bed. “Want me to tell him?” Tony nodded, hiding his face in his hands. “Okay. Okay, you still there, Clint?”

“Yeah.” He was wary, and he was right to be.

“Peter is… He’s really sick. He’s got cancer.”

It took a couple of seconds for it to register in Clint’s brain before he spoke. “What?”

“It’s… It’s lung cancer. Stage four, spread to his liver and his brain.” Steve’s voice faltered slightly as he delivered the news; the words felt so wrong in his mouth. Tony had sat up, feet on the floor, and his back facing Steve.

“No, that… That can’t be right. Right? Not him. Not- Not Peter. He’s…”

“I know, I- I’m sorry we didn’t tell you before. Everything just…” Steve gestured with his hands even though Clint couldn’t see him.

“No, no, I get it.” Having kids himself, he understood. He wouldn’t have been able to focus right, either. So he got it. “Stage four? That’s… God, that’s bad, isn’t it?”

“It’s really bad.”

“Is he gonna- Can I come visit?”

“‘Course you can. Peter loves you, you know that. We’re at the Compound.”

“Okay. Yeah, okay, I can be there by tonight, the drive’s like 15 hours.” Clint was already throwing clothes into a suitcase, Laura still in bed, slightly confused, but mostly concerned.

“No, I’ll send a jet,” Tony decided, straightening his back.

Clint stopped his frantic packing. “What?”

“I’ll send you a jet, Legolas. Don’t worry about it. It’ll be there in three hours.” Steve cringed at Tony’s forced casual tone.

“Oh. Thanks. See you soon, then.” Clint was surprised, and it was audible even through the phone.

“See you soon, Barton,” Steve said, hanging up. “That was really nice of you,” he smiled at Tony, reaching out a hand to put on his shoulder. Tony let his head drop to the side, rubbing his cheek on Steve’s hand.

“FRI, make sure a jet gets sent to pick up Barton,” Tony told the AI.

“On it, Sir.”

He turned around to face Steve who was sitting cross legged on the bed with a sad, concerned look on his face. He mustered a smile for Tony. And Tony did the same for Steve. Both faltered.

“It hurts to say out loud,” Tony spoke into the silent room.

“So much.”

────────

The early November air was cold. The wind was hitting Steve’s face like thousands of small needles piercing his skin, but he stood steadily as he watched Clint making his way towards him from the jet with a bag slung over his shoulder.

“Good to see you, Cap,” he smiled, half-genuine, when he was stood in front of the taller man.

“You too, Barton.” Steve pulled him in for a short, friendly hug before leading the way inside. Clint had obviously been at the Compound before, but Steve thought it’d be polite to greet him outside. And it’d give him a little more time to brief him about Peter’s condition.

“Have a nice flight?”

Clint just sent him a look that clearly meant cut the bullshit.

“Fair enough,” he chuckled. “Peter’s awake, but he’s pretty tired - worn out, really. And he… He probably looks sicker than what you’re expecting him to. He might just fall asleep, he might throw up, he might be in pain, and he might get a migraine,” Steve warned. “Just don’t get your hopes up.” That makes it even more painful.

Clint didn’t really know how to answer that. “I… This is so fucked up, I can’t even wrap my mind around it.”

“Yeah,” Steve breathed out, and neither of them said anything more until they were in the living room where Peter and Tony were. At least that’s where they’d been when Steve left them.

“Captain, Boss asks if you could come to Peter’s bedroom,” FRIDAY announced.

“Sure,” Steve confirmed, and then addressed Clint. “Uh, you know where your space is. Go ahead and leave your bag there, and then just come back here.”

With a nod, Clint turned around, starting on the familiar walk, while Steve headed for Peter’s bedroom, his steps somewhat rushed.

“Hey, you alright?” he asked upon entering the room, and closed the door behind him. Tony was keeping Peter steady as the boy pulled a pair of sweatpants on.

“I’m good,” the boy said, prompting Steve to look at his husband for more details.

“Had a little accident. Got some vomit on his clothes,” he explained, holding out a beanie for Peter when he’d tied the string on his pants who took it, immediately pulling it on. Tony had wanted to place a kiss on the top of his kid’s head and couldn’t help but look a little defeated when he wasn’t quick enough. He settled for a forehead kiss instead, forgetting his disappointment the second Peter leaned into the touch.

“You feelin’ up to seeing Clint?” Steve asked, wary of the pale, tired look on Peter’s face.

“Mhm,” he answered with a smile, blinking rather slowly.

“Maybe tomorrow we could invite everyone over for dinner,” Tony suggested.

“Sounds good. Would be nice for Pepper,” Steve commented.

“Pepper?” asked the boy, confused as to why it would nice for Pepper specifically.

“Yeah, she has to go back to the city for a while. She’s got a company to run,” Tony explained apologetically.

“Oh.” Peter sounded disappointed. He wasn’t, really, but it just reminded him that the world hadn’t stopped turning just because his life had been put on pause. And he didn’t want her to leave.

“We meant to tell you last night, but I guess we just forgot. Sorry, sweetheart.”

“No, it’s okay,” he assured his dad with a close-mouthed, genuine smile.

“C’mon, I’m sure Clint is excited to see you,” Steve said, walking the few remaining feet to wrap an arm around Peter. He didn’t know how much he’d thrown up, but he knew he usually became a little wobbly after it either way. “Want breakfast?” Steve mumbled on the way.

“Not really,” Peter declined, pretty sure that anything he ate would come right back up again.

“Not even a smoothie?” Tony asked, wringing his hands tensely.

“I could try,” he shrugged, having learned a long time ago how to lessen his dad’s worries.

“I’ll make it, Tony” Steve offered. “You go with him, Barton’s in the living room.”

With a hum of agreement, Tony wrapped an arm around Peter’s frail body. Because he knew exactly how much Peter had thrown up. It’d been a lot. But he happily supported some of his weight, and they made it to the living room in less than a minute.

Despite Steve having warned him, Clint still had to fight against the horrified expression that almost showed on his face. How could he not? Peter looked so sick. So thin. His face was gaunt and nearly gray, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that under that beanie, there was no hair. And the way he was leaning heavily into Tony, as if standing up was too tiring. The change was… jarring.

He smiled at Peter.

“Hey, bud,” he chuckled, walking over to them.

“Hi, Uncle Clint,” the boy beamed, letting go of the back of Tony’s shirt, and reached both arms out for a hug. Clint caught on right away, strategically wrapping his arms around Peter’s middle - he didn’t know how steady Peter was, and this way he could lift him up if he needed to.

He didn’t need to, but he did it anyway. Just to feel how light he’d gotten. Peter laughed when Clint pretended to groan as he lifted him a couple inches above the ground, thinking nothing of it, because Clint often did that to mess with him. Clint, on the other hand, met Tony’s eyes over Peter’s shoulder, nearly disturbed at how little the sixteen year old boy in his arms weighed. He was only met with a look on Tony’s face he couldn’t completely understand, but it wasn’t hard to tell that the man was both heartbroken and exhausted in a way he knew couldn’t compare to anything he’d ever felt himself.

Putting Peter back down again, he wiped the distressed look off of his face, replacing it with the smile from earlier. He let one arm stay wrapped around the boy as he pulled away, mirroring the way Tony had been steadying him.

“Wanna sit down on the couch?” he asked, and Peter nodded, feeling a little embarrassed as Clint helped him over to the couch, but pretty much forgot about it when he’d sat down, relief then taking over.

Well, as much relief as he could ask for, that was. The familiar aching in his bones was back, making it near impossible to completely relax. But he kept it together as well as he could for Clint. He might only be a kid, but he’d seen the look on the archer’s face, and he was well aware of how sick he looked. Biting the inside of his cheek, he refrained from shifting too much or squeezing his hands for some sort of relief.

“Quit it,” Tony whispered subtly to Peter when he’d sat down next to him, casually grabbing one of his hands to massage it. It felt so nice that Peter forgot himself for a second - by extension listening to what his dad had told him - and stretched his legs out, repositioning himself.

“Here you go, sweetie,” Steve said, approaching the couch, handing the freshly made smoothie to Peter before sitting down next to Tony. One glance down on Tony massaging Peter’s hand, and his smile faltered a tiny bit. Seeing Peter in pain would eventually drive him crazy, he was sure of it. There was something about seeing discomfort on that young face he knew so well that went against every instinct in him.

Clint’s mind was working on overdrive, trying to come up with something to say. The room was abnormally quiet; he was used to Tony’s quips and Peter’s rambling. But they were both occupied - Tony with massaging his son’s hand and watching his face, and Peter with trying to stay awake and drink some of his smoothie. “How are those two friends of yours doing?” he finally asked.

“Ned and MJ?” Peter perked up at the mention of them.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Clint encouraged, eager to hear him talk.

“They were here a couple of weeks ago. Was really nice.” He smiled tiredly, sinking further into the couch. Clint noticed, and changed his goal from getting Peter to talk to getting Peter to rest.

“Tell me about it later. I’m feeling up for a movie right now,” Clint decided. He was a dad, so of course he had a few tricks up his sleeve when it came to getting kids to go to sleep.

“Sure! What do you wanna watch?”

“You choose, buddy.”

“Alright. What about… Back to the Future?”

“Good choice, Pete,” Tony chimed in. “FRI, you heard the kid.” The AI only started playing the movie on the TV in front of them, dimming the lights. Peter managed to pay attention for about ten minutes. That was not-so-coincidentally just when Tony caught Clint’s gaze, flicking his eyes down to Peter’s hand in his. More prompting than that wasn’t necessary - Clint took hold of Peter’s other hand, copying what Tony was doing.

Anxiety boiled in Tony’s stomach as he waited for Peter to fall asleep. Just the thought of another bout of insomnia hitting his kid or him simply being uncomfortable to the point where it stole away his sleep was enough to make him feel off - to make his breathing pick up enough for Steve to notice. “He’s okay,” Steve murmured, pressing a kiss to his husband’s temple. Tony knew what Steve meant, but he still almost snapped that Peter was most definitely not okay.

All three men focused on Peter. Steve and Tony were able to pinpoint the moment he fell asleep, and Clint caught on a couple minutes later. “Is he asleep?” he whispered, looking at Tony.

“Mhm, let’s lie him down, and we can go sit in the kitchen,” Tony confirmed, letting go of Peter’s hand. Clint did the same, and stood up slowly. Cupping the back of Peter’s neck, Tony gingerly maneuvered Peter until he was lying down. Normally, he’d pull his beanie off, but with Clint there, he refrained from it. Then the boy was covered by a blanket, and they left him alone to rest.

Between the living room and the kitchen was the dining room, and a pair of sliding doors separated the living and dining room, allowing them to talk without disturbing Peter.

“You hungry, Barton? I think we have some leftover pizza from yesterday,” Steve offered, pulling a box out of the fridge.

“I could eat,” Clint said. “Thanks.” Steve put the box down in front of him, and grabbed glasses for each of them.

“Any requests, honey?” Steve asked Tony. “And don’t say coffee,” he smirked when the man opened his mouth, looking a bit too excited. For a while, Steve had tried helping him cut back on the amounts of caffeine he consumed in a day and they were actually making a little progress.

“Fine,” Tony snickered. “Iced tea? Do we have that?”

“I think so…” He rummaged around in the fridge. “Yeah, here we go. What about you, Clint?”

“Iced tea sounds good,” the archer said, picking up a slice of pizza, looking a little lost in thought.

“You good?” Steve asked him as he filled his glass.

“Hm? Yeah, just… Peter,” he sighed.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed.

“What’s with his hands?” Clint asked.

Tony looked at Steve with exhaustion clear on his face, so Steve decided to carry the burden of the conversation. “It’s not just his hands. His whole body hurts. Sometimes his hands get especially bad.”

A beat of silence. “Why?”

“Chemo side effect. One of many.” Steve sent him a sad smile, taking a sip of his drink.

Leaning his head back, Clint looked for words. “Not all the time, right?”

“No. Just sometimes.”

“I- He’s not even my kid, but seeing him in pain… All I wanna do is to fix it.”

“He’s okay now. He’s sleeping,” Steve assured him. Tony flinched. There it was again. “You alright, Tony?”

“Yep. All good.” His response was clipped, and his focus stayed glued to his apparently very interesting fingernails. It made Steve frown, but he decided to ignore it for now, instead opting to further explain Peter’s condition to Clint.

“Sleep usually helps. Hopefully he feels a little better tomorrow. But we can’t know for sure. The days after chemo are bad.”

“When was chemo?”

“Monday through Wednesday.”

“Jeez, that’s rough.”

“Yeah, it’s a… It’s a harsh treatment. It takes a toll on him.”

“He’s down to 110 pounds,” Tony blurted out, and then followed a sharp, humorless laugh. “But that was four days ago, probably even less now. He’s not okay. He’s not.”

“Tony-”

“I’m going to bed.”

“Honey, it’s noon,” Steve attempted.

“And I’m tired.” His voice was much softer, much more vulnerable than it had just been a mere second earlier. That, combined with how completely worn out he looked had Steve let out a somber sigh, concern filling his chest. It was a common sensation these days.

“Okay,” Steve said, too many feelings packed into such a short word.

“He good?” Clint asked when Tony was gone.

“He’s… We’re tired.”

────────

Per Tony’s request, FRIDAY alerted him when Peter began showing signs of waking up. Still groggy from an unexpectedly good nap, he sat up in bed, running his fingers through his hair once. He tugged lightly on it to wake himself up, then headed to the living room. Passing the kitchen, he saw Steve cooking while chatting with Clint.

On the couch he found Peter stirring, just beginning to open his eyes up. “Hey, Peter Pan,” he whispered, kneeling next to the couch despite his knees protesting. He tuned it out, instead fixating on gently rousing his son out of his sleepy state.

“Mmm, Dad?” Peter mumbled, stretching his arms over his head as he yawned.

“That’s me,” Tony confirmed playfully.

“Time is it?” The boy searched for his father’s hand, happily leaning into the touch when he felt it cup his cheek.

“Didn’t check, but it looked like Pops was cooking dinner. Feeling rested? You got a few good hours of sleep in.” He let his fingers gently caress Peter’s cheek even though it looked like all it was doing was coaxing him back to sleep.

“Yeah, it- Oh, no.” Peter tensed, sitting up abruptly with a hand in front of his mouth.

“There’s a- Shit, it’s in your bedroom. Sit tight, just a sec.” Tony bolted to the kitchen to get a trash can after realizing the bucket they’d had next to the couch for instances like this had been moved.

Crashing into Steve, he only yelled out a hurried apology as he pushed him out of the way, grabbing the nearest trash can. Steve closed his mouth that had been open to ask Tony what on earth he was doing - it was rather obvious. Especially when he could hear Peter puking into said trash can just about three seconds later.

“I trust you’re able to look out for the pasta?” Steve asked, pulling his apron off, and abandoned his nearly finished homemade pesto.

“Go ahead. Let me know if you need any help,” Clint told him, and Steve sent him a nod in thanks before going to be with his son.

It was common occurrence by now to see Peter emptying his stomach in a rather miserable way, but that didn’t mean he’d ever get used to it. Peter was sitting on the edge of the couch, clutching the trash can, Tony kneeling on the floor next to him, one hand on the trash can and one on Peter’s back. Steve sat down on the other side of Peter.

There really wasn’t anything else to do than gently encouraging him through it, telling him that it’d be over soon and how brave he was. It made both dads feel powerless. There was nothing to do. They just had to witness it, with no opportunity to make it any better no matter how hard they wished, hoped, wanted, prayed, whatever.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Tony said optimistically when Peter was done, even though they all knew it was only because there wasn’t much in his stomach to begin with.

“What do you want for dinner?” Steve asked, anxious to make sure Peter got a little substance in him. “Anything you want, just as long as it’s something.”

Peter grimaced. “At least let me brush my teeth before you start talking about food.”

“Okay, fair point,” Steve smiled. “You good to stand?”

The sudden flush on Peter’s face told Steve everything he needed to know. “It’s just us, don’t worry about it,” he assured him, wrapping a secure arm around his middle and pulled him up. He supported some of his weight, but Peter was relatively steady as they walked out of the living room to brush his teeth.

Tony couldn’t help but be a little stunned. There was nothing special about what he’d just witnessed, and it was far from the worst thing he’d seen the past few weeks. Still, it stung deep in his chest, a helplessness so all-consuming that he had no idea how to handle it.

Clenching his fists so hard that his nails nearly broke through the skin on his palms, he felt his chest tighten and throat close up. He sat down. His eyes were wide, searching the room as he tried to fill his lungs. “TV, trash can, paintings, chairs, phone,” he whispered to himself, voice shaky and mouth dry.

“Sofa, pants, pillow,” he reached his hand out, “table.”

“Clint in the kitchen, footsteps. Peter laughing.” He calmed down considerably at that one, especially when his husband let out a laugh as well, the noise getting closer to him. Honing in on it, he let himself forgo the rest of his familiar grounding technique.

“There we go, let’s sit you down next to Dad, and I’ll go rescue Clint in the kitchen,” Steve said, sending a smile Tony’s way, a little put off by the look in his eyes he’d seen too many times before, if it were up to him to judge.

“Oh, no, you left Clint in the kitchen by himself?” Peter joked as Steve helped him sit down, still a bit unsteady.

“I know, it’s a miracle if any of the food is salvageable,” Steve jested right back. “Gotta go get rid of this first, though,” he said, picking up the trash can next to Tony. Eyebrows furrowed subtlety in concern, he caught his husbands gaze who nodded reassuringly in response.

“You still haven’t told me what you want, Petey,” he said, holding the trash can in one hand, halfway turned to leave the room to dispose of the bag, and make sure it’s clean.

“I know it’s not a dinner food, but scrambled eggs, please?” Peter requested hopefully.

“Sure, sweetie, I did say anything you want. As long as you’re eating.” With a final smile, he walked off, leaving Tony and Peter alone. The man’s breathing was pretty much under control by now, and there were no tangible traces of him panicking just a couple minutes earlier.

“Feeling better?” Tony asked, hand gently taking hold of the back of Peter’s neck, drawing circles on the smooth skin with his thumb. It was just as much to comfort Peter as it was to help himself get completely grounded.

“Much,” Peter sighed, and leaned into the touch, ever the tactile one.

“Stay awake until you’ve eaten something, okay?” Tony told him when he saw his eyes starting to droop a little.

“Okay,” he agreed, shifting to lean into Tony’s side. Ever since he was little, it’d been his favorite place to be, and it always fit him perfectly, as if it grew with him. With Dad’s arm around him and head resting on his chest, he felt just as secure as ever.

Sometimes, the childish side of him missed the arc reactor. He was always fascinated and soothed by the blue light it emitted. After Afghanistan, the boy had been plagued with nightmares of Tony disappearing again. All the times he’d timidly made his way to his father’s room because he was scared and couldn’t sleep, the blue light never failed to steal his focus away from the bad as he traced over it with his fingers. Whenever anyone else, including Rhodey, and sometimes even Steve, got close to touching the reactor - be it by accident or not - he couldn’t help but flinch away.

But, oh, Peter; he could touch it as much as he wanted because Tony knew how gentle he was, fingers barely there as he studied it as if every time were his first time seeing it. Though, above all, it was because Peter was his kid, and he’d do anything to make him feel better. He grew to be quite fond of it, marveled at how the piece of metal in his chest not only kept him alive, but was important to Peter as well.

The sensible side of Peter, however, knew to be relieved that Tony didn’t need the arc reactor anymore. There were no pieces of shrapnel threatening to stop his heart, and Peter was eternally grateful.

One thing the boy didn’t seem to notice was the way his fingers would sometimes move on their own accord in the same way they did back when the arc reactor was still in place, drawing small, light figures on his father’s chest even though there was nothing there.

Tony had noticed and it was something that never failed to make his heart swell with contentedness. He looked down to watch Peter’s fingers move around as if tracing the design of the arc reactor, patterns stored somewhere deep in the boy’s mind.

“Hey, no sleeping, squirt,” Tony reminded him, squeezing his shoulder to wake him up a little.

“I know. Just closing my eyes for a minute,” Peter mumbled, not sounding very convincing. Tony could only laugh lightly at him, holding him a little tighter as they waited for dinner to be ready. It couldn’t be much longer; he could hear either Steve or Clint getting plates and utensils ready to set the table.

His suspicions were confirmed when Steve stuck his head into the room. “Dinner in five,” he spoke softly.

“Are his eggs ready?” Tony asked, Steve giving a confirming hum. “Maybe give it here? I’ll make sure he eats some, but he’s so tired. I don’t want him to have to get up. I’ll join you guys as soon as he’s asleep, okay?”

While Steve knew Clint wanted to spend time with the boy, it wasn’t hard to give in, especially when he watched Peter bury his face in Tony’s chest.

“Alright,” Steve smiled, and went to get Peter’s food and a bottle of water.

“Chow time,” Tony announced moving his hand to Peter’s ribs, tickling him.

“Dad, stop,” Peter laughed, trying to squirm away from him.

“What? I’m not doing anything.” Tony feigned innocence, barely able to hold back his grin.

“Yes, you are!” With a huge smile on his face, Peter grabbed Tony’s hand and pulled it away from his side.

“Oof, busted,” Tony chuckled, and wasn’t surprised at Peter settling close to him again, despite his tickling attack.

Steve came back with food and water for Peter. “Eat up, and then have a nice nap, okay?” he said when he’d put it down in front of him, and leaned down to press a kiss to the boy’s forehead.

“Thanks, Pops.”

────────

“How old is he again? Two?” Steve asked after Clint told them about how Nathaniel had managed to lock Laura in the bathroom and that’s why keys are now banned in their house.

They’d finished dinner about an hour ago and had just cleaned the table, but stayed in the dining room to let Peter sleep.

“Yeah, just turned two, the little jackass,” Clint confirmed with a chuckle.

“Well, I wouldn’t call him a jackass; kid managed to lock a door all by himself. I’d say he’s bordering on child protegee,” Tony quipped with a deliberate straight face, but amusement was glinting in his eyes.

“Hm, you might reconsider when I tell you about how he tried to eat a pine cone five minutes later because ‘chocolate’s the same color.’ Swear to god, I’ve got three kids and they just keep getting weirder,” Clint laughed fondly, managing to get Tony and Steve to laugh pretty hard as well.

Hearing about Clint’s kids made something in Tony ache to check on Peter, so he asked his AI. “Hey, FRI, how’s Peter doing? Sleeping beauty still going strong?”

“He’s still deeply sleeping and seems to be comfortable,” she assured him.

“Honey, he’s just sleeping in the other room. FRIDAY would’ve told us if something was wrong. He’s okay,” Steve said, aiming to reduce some of Tony’s worries. Had he avoided those two final words, he might’ve succeeded, but it just backfired.

In bone-deep frustration, Tony slammed his fist down on the dining table. “Jesus, Steve, he’s not okay. Why do you keep saying that when he’s anything but?” he snapped, staring into Steve’s eyes.

“You know what I mean by it,” Steve sighed, his eyes softening while Tony’s stayed harsh, unrelenting, but the quiver of his lips didn’t escape Steve’s attention.

“Of course I do, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s miles away from okay. He’ll never be okay.”

Clint awkwardly excused himself, feeling very much like he was intruding, none of the other two men looking his way when he left the room.

“What do you want me to say then, Tony? That he’s not? That he’s dying?”

“It kills me when you say it because you look like you believe it.”

“I do that for you.”

“I never asked you to.”

“I know that! Don’t you think this is fucking killing me? You think I’m walking around here waiting for it to get better? You’re my husband, I’m just trying to carry as much as I can.”

“Carry as much as you want, it doesn’t change the fact that this time next year, he’ll be dead!” His voice was raised, echoing the turmoil inside of him.

Steve physically took a step back upon hearing him say those words with such bluntness. “Tony-”

“That’s how this is gonna go, I don’t know what else to tell you.” Tony was biting back tears, but couldn’t help the shakiness in his voice.

“Tony, don’t,” Steve whispered.

“In a year, we’ll have nothing. We won’t be parents anymore. Our son’s gonna be gone.” He gave up, letting the tears fall down his cheeks, but he ignored them.

“I know.” Clenching his jaw, Steve tried to stay calm despite how much everything hurt, because he knew. He knew Tony was in just as much pain as him.

“I know that you know. You know what’s gonna happen to him and you know what’s gonna happen to me.”

“Not that- no, Tony, not that again. You can’t-”

“I can. There’ll be nothing.”

Steve didn’t bother holding back the sob that climbed up his throat. “Well, I can’t. I won’t let that happen.”

“It’s my choice. It’s not your business.”

“Not my business? You’re the love of my life, Tony, of course it’s my business!”

“This is about Peter. You know damn well that I love you, so don’t pull that card,” Tony seethed, so angry, but no amount of anger could make him forget how much he loved Steve.

“I’ll pull any card if it keeps you alive. I don’t care if it’s not fair, we’re well past that!”

“What the fuck do you expect me to do without Peter?” Tony exploded, raising his voice in a manner Steve hadn’t witnessed before.

Taking a shaky breath, Steve tried ignoring how that meant that even he wasn’t enough. “What do you expect me to do with both of you gone?” he yelled right back.

Tony was interrupted before he could even think of how to respond to that.

“I’m still here. You know that, right? I’m still here.” Peter was standing at the edge of the room, leaning on the doorframe for support, having opened the sliding doors with no one noticing. His eyes were wide and his cheeks were wet with tears, but his voice was steady; somehow both cold and vulnerable at the same time.

“Peter,” Tony breathed out, everything about him softening.

“Of course you are,” Steve said, realizing how defensive his body language had become, and relaxed his muscles.

“That’s not what it sounds like.”

“Peter, we’re sorry,” Tony nearly whispered, unable to find his voice.

“Next time you have a fight like that, make sure I’m out of earshot because I know-” he hesitated for a second before walking further into the room, unsteady on his feet, and inhaled deeply. “I know I’m gonna die. But I don’t need to hear you screaming about it. Because I’m still here. And I definitely don’t need to hear you screaming about what’s gonna happen after I’m gone.” His eyes met Tony’s, and the man felt ashamed.

“Sorry,” Steve echoed his husband, both adults stunned by the words that had just left their son’s mouth.

Hearing Peter say it hurt more than they could’ve imagined.

He rejected it in a heartbeat, but Tony couldn’t help but feel jealous of Peter because he’d never have to live in a world without Peter. He thought he knew guilt, but nothing could even come close to the shame washing over him in that second.

“If you wanna talk-” Steve attempted.

“I don’t. I’m getting my pills and I’m going to my room and I’ll see you tomorrow,” Peter decided, walking past his dads to get to the kitchen where his medicine was.

“Okay. But let us help you,” Steve said, going for a combination between firm and loving, but it only came across as desperate.

“You might be surprised to hear that that’s not what I want right now,” Peter snarked, sarcasm cutting through the air. Tony flinched, his son’s hostile front unfamiliar to him, and he didn’t like it at all. But he didn’t say anything. He knew that whatever clever thing he might come up with, it’d just make it worse.

“I’m fine,” Peter continued. Medicine and a water bottle gathered in his arms, he intended to storm off to his room, but the adrenaline that’d been pumping through his body ever since he realized what Tony would do once he’s gone was wearing off. Quickly. His knees buckled slightly, making him stumble towards his dads. Two choked gasps sounded, and four arms caught him. “I can walk by myself,” he protested, but there wasn’t much truth to that statement.

“We’re gonna help you, and then we’ll let you be alone for a while if that’s what you want.” Steve didn’t leave room for any arguments, and Tony wrapped an arm around the boy to steady him, feeling the tension in his body match the one in the room. Steve picked up the medicine and the water bottle, following them to Peter’s bedroom.

Once safely settled on his bed, Peter curled up into a ball, facing away from the door; away from his dads.

“FRIDAY’s gonna remind you to take your pills. Let us know if you need anything,” Steve told him.

“We love you,” the smaller man added.

“More than anything.”

Peter didn’t answer.

[ekxlydia7861-blog]

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[cassiefanfic]

Diagnosis

Fandom: Supernatural

Character/Ship: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warning: Cancer, heavy swearing, angst, fluff

Writer: Cas

Words: 1418

Requested by: @flyingthroughheaven

Summary: After being diagnosed with Osteosarcoma in her left leg, Y/N seeks help with Dean to get her through this terrifying and tough time.

[Based off of:] this request

Could I have a oneshot where Dean from supernatural finds out you have cancer and helps you through it?

Author’s Note: It took a bit for me to consider to write this due to family history but I decided to use this as an outlet to help me. I am not an expert on cancer, I am going off of the internet and some of the Red Band Society tv show.

Y/N’s POV

I felt so weak as I drove home. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to feel. I felt angry at Dean for making me go to the doctor in the first place, but now grateful. I was angry at myself for being such a bitch to him. And most of all I was mad at the doctor for the diagnosis.

But deep down, I was scared.

I parked in the garage and made my way into the bunker, head down. All I could focus on was my left leg. On the limp. If I had to be angry at anything, it was that left leg.

I walked to the shooting range and began to let go. I grabbed about 3 guns and a bunch of bullets before putting on a little protective gear. Then I shot the targets as much as I could. I kept going and going and going before my final clip was empty and I slammed the gun down, screaming and hitting the closest wall as hard as I could. I leaned against the wall, cradling my hand in pain as I fell to the ground, sitting hunched over in pain and sadness as tears began to well in my eyes.

“Hey sweetheart how-” Dean’s footsteps and speech stopped the second he saw me. He crossed the room in three strides and crouched in front of me, reaching for my hand to see the damage. It was just abrasions on the knuckles but it still hurt. Dean sighed and picked me up, carrying me to the infirmary as I shook in his arms. I let out a soft sob as he sat me down and cleaned off my knuckles before dressing the wounds accordingly. Dean looked up concerned as tears fell down my cheek, crying softly.

“Hey. It’s okay it’ll heal soon. You’ve gotten way worse just at a bar, let alone during a hunt-”

“I have cancer!” I yelled out, pushing him as best I could before crying harder, covering my face as my whole body shook. Dean caught himself after stumbling back a few steps, quickly returning to my side and hugging me close. He stayed completely still as I cried. I kept crying and crying until it hurt, and I was exhausted. Dean kissed my forehead carefully before whispering, “We got this. It’s gonna work out. We can ask Cas-”

“He can’t heal it. I already asked.” I interrupted, pulling away and slowly standing. Dean followed close behind me as I made my way to my room, not wanting to talk too much about it.

“Y/N wait!” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me close, making me look at his face to face. He slowly wiped the tears away and held my waist. “We will work this out. We can use the card to pay for the treatments and any medical expenses, we can use Cas to heal as much as we can.”

I looked down and shakily sighed, grabbing onto his arms. “They have to amputate it. Because of where it is they need to amputate it, drugs and chemo for six months as they keep track of how I am healing. But if something goes wrong Dean… I don’t want to die in a hospital. I want to die here-”

“That’s not important now okay? When is your surgery gonna be?”

“Next week, on Tuesday.”

“That means we got 4 days to have a shit ton of fun huh?” He smiled softly, causing me to let out a soft laugh and hug him close.

After the surgery, Cas healed the stitches, leaving me with my stump. Sam drove me to and from chemo and helped me through nausea afterward. Dean helped me eat and distracted me from the pain and fear. The boys went on fewer hunts, maybe one or two a month at the most, and when they did, Jody would come over and take care of me.

I hated feeling this helpless. I wanted to take care of myself but I couldn’t, and that thought burned into my brain. One morning, I woke up at 7 am, hungry and determined. I knew Dean would still be asleep, and Sam was off on a run. I shakily grabbed my crutches and made my way to the kitchen. I got out a bagel, an egg, some cheese, and some bacon and began to make my own breakfast, balancing on one of the crutches as I managed the food with both hands.

The balance wasn’t easy, but I was determined, the growling of my stomach encouraging me to continue. I reached over and got the bagel out of the toaster, laying the fried egg on top of one half, then cheese, some bacon on the top before laying the other half of the bagel on top. I smiled, shutting off the stove before hobbling with one crutch and the plate in one of my hands to the table, slamming the plate down before hurrying for my other crutch.

Sauce, shit. I forgot the sauce. I made my way to the fridge and found the ranch and sriracha, shoving one on each side of my bra securely before heading back to the table. Unfortunately, I didn’t notice the piece of bacon I had dropped on the ground, and neither did my left crutch. The foot of it landed right on top, and right as I shifted all my weight, the left crutch slipped and fell to the side. I lost all my balance and fell face first onto the ground, the bottles of ranch and sriracha bursting under the sudden weight of my body.

I knew I looked pathetic. Lying face down on the floor in a puddle of spicy ranch mix, crutches laid out across the floor, and a freshly made breakfast sandwich on the table. And I knew that when Dean ran in, he was wearing only a t-shirt and boxers, his gun drawn, still half awake.

“Y/N! What the hell happened?” He yelled as he went and grabbed my crutches, hurrying to my side. The second I felt his hand touch my arm, I drew my gun from my pajama pants and pointed it at him.

“DON’T! Don’t touch me!” I snapped. I moved my head, revealing my teary eyes and quivering lip to Dean. “I don’t want your help. I can do it myself.”

Dean slowly set down my crutches and stood, hands up. For the first time since I knew him, he looked like he was genuinely scared of me. I felt a smile creep across my face as I began to laugh. I began to laugh and cry and it felt amazing. I sat up, my shirt dripping with the light red sauce mixture, and tears falling, my gun still pointed at him as I laughed.

“I just wanted to do something by myself. Do you realize how FUCKING FRUSTRATING it is that you all are babying me? I have cancer! I’m losing my hair because of chemo and I can’t go hunt! I’m fucking dead and I’m getting treated like a child!” I screamed at him before putting down my gun, laying back down in the ranch sriracha puddle and crying.

Dean didn’t dare to move. He stayed completely still as he began to speak slowly. “Y/N, we are just trying to help you here. We didn’t mean to make you upset but… we’re all scared. Y/N we don’t want you to go. Sam has been scouring every book he can find for a spell to cure you. Cas is trying to heal you every time he touches you. And I….. I don’t think I can be the same if you die. Shit Y/N we need you okay?”

I looked at him slowly, listening to him with trembling hands before holding out my arms, needing help up. He made his way over, grabbing my crutches and laying them in my lap before picking me up and carrying me to my bathroom.

“I’m sorry Dean-”

“Don’t apologize.” He interrupted, setting me down on a bench before cleaning off my crutches and starting a shower. “You’re pissed, you don’t need to apologize okay?” He turned to me and smiled. “Now, how about you take a shower, I’ll go clean up before Sam-”

“Guys I’m- OW! DEAN!!!!!” Sam’s yelling echoed through the bunker, causing Dean and me to burst out laughing. Actually laughing. “WHY THE HELL IS THERE RANCH ALL OVER THE FLOOR?!”