#the moment he wakes up from surgery he made it his goal that his name was gonna be very well known for Better or for Worse

[unholycourier]

I love the wide range of courier 6 personalities. sometimes i’ll see very regal, mysterious couriers, or couriers who are very troubled but extremely righteous and loyal, to couriers like mine who came back very wrong. i love courier 6 sm

[harryhandstan]

gotta get better

gif credit

This concept has been in my head for a while now and it took me like a month to write and edit and just get it all out! I had surgery two years ago today and it was one of the most emotional, stressful experiences of my life simply bc I’m just a big baby lol. This is just something to celebrate that day and the fact that I’m still so happy it’s all over! Fluffy af as usual cause that’s all I know how to write. :)

Thankful to @bfharry​ and @bopbopstyles​ for not only inspiring me with their amazing writing but pushing me towards finishing this and reaching (even going over) my personal 5k goal! I appreciate you both so much!!

I recently saw a post about tagging triggers properly so I’m gonna do it that way but if I do it wrong or it doesn’t work PLEASE let me know and I will fix it immediately (just want to be sure all my bases are covered)

// needles tw, pills tw (prescription), anxiety tw // (if I missed anything I should’ve tagged please please let me know!!) and I’m sure there are some medical inaccuracies bc that whole day is kind of a blur for me haha 

as always likes/rbs/comments are welcome but absolutely not necessary :) 

final word count: 7.1k

//

"Y'nervous, angel?"

"Hmm?"

"Bout to chew your finger off. I know there can't be much of a nail left."

Your hand drops back to your lap. You hadn't even realized you were doing it. A bad habit of the nervous child you thought you'd long forgotten. He offers his left hand and you accept it, thumb swiping over the cross painted across his skin. He knows it's one of your favorites and you're thankful for the comfort. You don't know how many times he'd teased you about how you would eventually rub it off one day and he'd have to get it redone.

"S'a routine surgery, I bet they do them all day. You're gonna be fine."

You'd been over all this a thousand times before. Harry had to ban you from looking up the procedure online at one point. You became obsessive with worry. What if you're still awake when they cut into you and you can't talk? What if you feel everything and can't tell anyone? What if you don't wake up? He had shot down every one of your horrifying theories.

"How much longer before they take me back?"

"Nurse said it would be about 10 minutes when we checked in. Shouldn't be too much longer. Want me to check the board again?"

Checking in had only consisted of a nurse taking your name and giving you your bracelet for the day with an ID number. The number would help Harry stay updated on where you were throughout the whole process. The "board" was simply a tv mounted to the wall that frequently cycled through each patient's last name and ID number.

"No, no," You cling to his sleeve like a desperate child, "Don't leave again. She said they wouldn't update anything until I went back anyway."

Harry had left you only briefly when you first arrived. Hands in his pockets, wandering around like a lost child around the big, open expanse of the waiting room. He stayed where you could see him and the whole time you had anxiously chewed your bottom lip until he returned. You hated it, but you knew he was just as nervous as you. So you let him have that moment. To check his surroundings and release some of the nerves so he could come back to you, calm and cool as always.

When the nurse does call your name, you almost jump out of your skin. You freeze, unable to move. Harry stands and flashes the nurse a quick smile before turning back to you and offering his hand.

You shake your head, "I can't do this, H. I feel like I'm gonna throw up if I move."

"You're not, promise. Remember those breathing exercises we practiced? Do those. C'mon..deep breath in. Pause. Slowly let it out. Do it while we walk."

Slow deep breath in. Pause. Slowly let it out.

You remember how silly you felt the first time you did it. How it made you giggle at first. This is never going to work. But eventually it did. Anytime you got upset or started to overthink about this day, Harry made you stop whatever you were doing and sit down. Breathe.

It was a little difficult to do while walking. Your body wanted to pause your steps when your breath paused, but Harry tugged you along, you almost hiding behind him until you made it through a set of heavy wooden doors to a small space with a hospital bed and a curtain drawn in front of it.

//

The IV had had been your biggest dread, the fear overriding any logic that it was something you needed, instead of something the nurses decided to do simply to torture you.

Your face twists into a wince of pain when the needle goes into your vein, Harry standing over you, his face a mirror of your own as you squeeze his hand. When the nurse pulls away with a triumphant "all done!" you flash a look of surprise between your arm and Harry.

"Not that bad, eh? Think ya overreacted a bit about how bad that was gonna be?" He raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to shoot him a nasty look for teasing you.

"Maybe a little." You pinch your index finger and thumb together, indicating a minimal amount.

"Tiny bit more, babe," Another nurse appears from around the curtain and he laughs before speaking to her, "it's all she's worried about all morning."

"Honestly that's everyone's least favorite part. The rest of the day should be aces if you can handle that!"

Harry settles himself into a chair while the nurse goes through a myriad of questions. Any other surgeries? Allergies to medications you know of? Do you smoke? Drink?

Harry snorts when you say no to drinking, but quickly clasps his hand over his mouth when the nurse's head snaps to look between you and him.

"The occasional drink is fine, no worries. Nothing this morning though, right?"

"No, ma'am."

Your eyes meet his, a mischievous grin still plastered across his face. He mumbles a quick "sorry" while you try to pull your concentration back towards the nurse and the remainder of her questions.

"Alright, time for the good stuff," she passes you a small clear cup with two white pills, "First one is just something to keep you calm and relaxed, second one is to prevent any pain after the procedure. They'll give you something to make you sleepy when you get to the OR, but this might make you a bit loopy for now."

"This should be fun." Harry claps his hand in front of him, rubbing them together quickly. He leans forward in his chair, as if ready for a show.

"Yeah? Is she a happy drunk?"

Harry had only ever experienced you high on any sort of prescription medication once, almost a year ago when you went on a girl's trip with your best friend and twisted your ankle in an attempt to make it back to her car after dinner out one night. You calling him from an unknown ER in the middle of the night had terrified him enough to start packing a bag to fly to you before your best friend could grab your phone and assure him you were fine and she would put you on a plane home to him in two days as planned. He had teased you endlessly when he picked you up from the airport and for the next few days afterwards as you limped around on a bruised, ACE bandage wrapped foot.

But after too many wine drunk nights to count, he had enough stories to humiliate you with and the thought of any one of them being told now had you sinking further into the hospital bed.

"You could say that. Last time she.." His voice trails off at the sight of your eyes, wide as saucers, begging him to stop.

The nurse grins, her face kind and sympathetic to your silent cry for help.

"We're a little behind schedule this morning so it may be about 20 minutes before they come transport you, okay?" You nod, the effects of the sedative already working its way through your system, "Keep an eye on her? Make sure she behaves?"

"Yeah, I got her. We'll be fine, thank you so much." He's closer now, standing next to you again, a hand sliding up your arm to settle on your shoulder. You manage a thumbs up and a sleepy "thank you" as an affirmation that you appreciate all she's done for you.

"You're more than welcome. You'll have a different set of nurses in recovery but if you need anything until they come get you, just let me know, alright?"

"We will, thanks." His thumb ghosts across the front of your collarbone, the lightest of touches to soothe you, his eyes still focused on the nurse.

"Good luck! You're gonna do just fine, I promise."

The second she's around the curtain, Harry nudges you lightly, "Scoot."

"Huh? What do you mean..Harry, there's not enough room for you in this bed." Your head feels too light to deal with his nonsense now.

"Yeah there is if you scoot. C'mon. Hurry before we get caught. M’supposed to be keeping an eye on you, remember? Gotta make sure you don't fall outta the bed."

He's already wedged himself next to you, trying to make his tall frame fit into the limited space.

You move over as much as you can, the rail of the bed poking into your hip.

He tucks one arm behind your head, the other one thrown behind his own as a cushion.

"You feel more relaxed now, lovie?"

You scrunch down in the bed, just enough that you can tuck your head under his other arm, "A little. I don't feel sleepy enough though," Your eyes dart up, seeking the comfort of his face, "I'm scared, H."

"I know you are, baby," the hand behind your head shifts to cup around your arm, pulling you closer, "Just pretend you're home with me and we're taking a nice little nap together, yeah?"

"But you won't be there with me, not really."

"I'll be there when you wake up though. First thing you'll see when you open your eyes, promise." He runs a finger along the curve of your nose, "Close your eyes. Try to sleep, hmm?"

You shake your head, turning towards him to hide your face in his side, inhaling his scent.

"Want me to turn the light off? Would that help?"

"No," You toss the arm that isn't trapped between you two over him, holding tightly to his shirt, "Stay."

"Alright, then. We'll just wait," He tilts his head to rest closer to yours, "Have you thought about what you want to eat after?"

"Not really. M'too nervous to think about food."

"We'll think of something good. Whatever you want."

"You're gonna get us in trouble, better scoot back to your corner like a good boy." Your words come out unintentionally slurred and you weakly push yourself up and away from him as he slides off. He doesn't sit though, just stands near you, an anxious look flashing across his features.

"Hey, c'mere. Gonna be fine, routine surgery, remember?" You stretch your arms out to him, a plea to be near his warmth again.

He sits on the edge of the bed, facing you. You tug lightly at the sleeve of his cardigan, a feeble attempt to pull him closer. He indulges you, his brow still creased with distress.

"Know ya gonna be fine, just hate you have to go through it at all. Wish I could take it from you without all this." He gestures to the IV he knows you despise so much.  

"You have helped take it from me. All the sleepless nights you spent up with me, holding my hair back when I got sick. All the days after when I was too drained to get out of bed. You were there for as much of it as you could be. And you pushed me to go see the surgeon in the first place. You've helped me more than you give yourself credit for."

His fingers intertwine in yours, the pad of his thumb soothing over the front of your hand.

"Make sure you keep my phone with you, my mom will probably call you every 30 minutes for updates." A yawn stretches across your face, "She has your number too, bullied me into giving it to her last week when I called to tell her about the surgery."

He nods, patting his pocket to make sure both phones are still nestled there together.

Another yawn threatens to escape and you muffle it this time, more content to fight sleep to stare at Harry; his hair a perfect mess of curls under the harsh brightness of the hospital lighting. His face is more relaxed now, his eyes still focused on your fingers tangled together. He catches you, your eyes glazed over, too heavy and threatening to close.

"Darling, please close your eyes. I can see how tired you are," His fingertips sweep delicately over your nose again, as if he was lulling a baby to sleep, "You don't have to stay awake for me."

"Closing my eyes for just a second, alright? Not because you told me to though. I want to. Wake me up in 2 hours, don't wanna sleep too long."

Your eyes are already drifting closed, the last thing you hear is a chuckle; effortless, light as air, "I will, promise."

Soft kisses pressed across your face, "Sweet dreams, love."

//

His voice is the first you hear as you wake up in the dimly lit recovery room. Well, really it was more like a big cubicle, another space with a curtain drawn in front of it. Even with the floaty, dreamy feeling flowing through your system, you can still detect the worry in his voice.

"Harry?" It takes your mind a minute to catch up and process where you are and what had happened.

Oh yeah. Surgery day. No more annoying gallbladder. No more sleepless nights. Freedom to eat what you want and not be haunted by nausea and sickness from what you ate.

"How are you feeling? Any pain?" Suddenly a nurse in bright blue scrubs is there, way too animated and loud at the moment, "Pain scale 1-10?"

"I don't have any pain. Zero." You're aware of how high you sound and a giggle escapes through the haze. That earns you a smile from Harry, one that lights up his whole face and makes his dimples shine through.

"Awesome! Well then as soon as you're good and awake we're gonna get this IV out and go over some paperwork for both of you to sign. I want you to drink something for me too, so what would you like?"

You request a ginger ale and as soon as the nurse leaves to retrieve it for you, Harry scoots the chair he's sitting in as close to the bed as possible.

"How long was I out?"

"Couple of hours," He absentmindedly fixes your hair, looping various curls back around to their respective places, "Took a little longer than expected, you had a small infection so they had to make sure it hadn't spread."

"How much longer?"

"Long enough you had us all slightly worried." His hand trails down your cheek to cup your chin gently, urging you to look at him, "You sure you're not in pain? Now's not the time to do that stubbornly brave thing you do where you pretend nothing's wrong."

"I feel fine, really. Just a little tired, ready to go home."

He studies your face, trying to find any trace of dishonesty. When he's satisfied you're being truthful, he stands and extracts your phone from his pocket.

"Already talked to ya mum, but your co-workers were all texting you, asking how you were. Figured you'd want to handle that yourself, didn't know how much detail you would want to give them."

"Did you give my mother all the details? Infection and everything?"

"Um, no. I knew better than to do that. Promised her you would call when I got you settled at home."

"You promised or she demanded?"

"Okay..she politely asked that you call her when we get home."

"That sounds more like her." You roll your eyes, pushing yourself so you're sitting more upright in the bed.

"She just worries about you." He adjusts the pillow behind you, fluffing and tucking it where you direct it, against your lower back.

"I know. I'll FaceTime her when we get home to prove I'm alive."

"It's been a while since we've seen them, maybe we should plan a visit?" He plops himself back in the chair, leaning back as far as he can go; hands behind his head, eyes closed. You'd both gotten very little sleep the night before, you were too anxious and he was too gracious to let you suffer alone.

"Oh please, I'm lucky I even got time off to do this. My boss would never allow another break so soon."

"Maybe for the holidays?"

"Maybe..but only if you can go with me, you know they love you more than me by now anyway."

"They do not," He peeks one eye open at you, "They love us both equally."

You shoot a quick text to your co-workers, using the group chat between the few of you to make it easier.

I'm out! Feeling okay for now but that might change later lol

The nurse is back, apologizing for taking so long, "We've been so behind all day, it's crazy busy. I had to wait for your doctor to sign off on your release." She hands you a can of ginger ale, white bendy straw already poised and ready for you.

"Just need you to sign here," She holds a clipboard and a pen out to you and you balance the can dangerously in one hand while you scribble something that resembles your signature. Close enough. She gestures for you to pass the clipboard to Harry, "His signature goes under yours, just says he's responsible for you for the next few hours until everything wears off."

"This means I'm the boss, right?" He leans over to grab the board, a wink thrown in your direction. He's enjoying himself way too much at the thought of being in control of you for the next few hours. Smug son of a bitch.

She takes the clipboard back and pulls off a yellow sheet of paper, "This is just your copy of what you signed, and also has post op instructions for your bandages. Your prescription's been sent to the pharmacy, and there's a brief summary of pain management information on the bottom there just in case you need it."

"Thank you." You transfer it right to Harry's waiting hand, knowing he'll be the one surveying every word, making sure you follow everything to the letter.

"I know you mentioned earlier having a little bit of a drive home, so probably once you get her some food and pick up her prescriptions, it'll be time for another round of meds. Okay?" She turns to you again, "I know it sounds silly, but one of the most important things after this particular surgery is lots of walking. Otherwise you'll be miserable. Rest for a while when you get home, then get up every 10 minutes or so until bedtime. Don't let her skip that part, alright? Very important."

"I heard you weren't a big fan of this thing," She nods towards the IV in your right forearm, "So this'll probably be the best part of this whole process for you. We'll get this out and then you can get changed and we'll get someone to wheel you down and out of here, alright? Don't look and you won't even know when it's gone."

"Hey, think about what you want to eat, huh? Your first freedom meal. Yay!" He slips his hand into your left, raising your connected hands victoriously. You didn't think it was possible for you to love him anymore until this moment. The way he could so easily erase your fear was one of his many gifts you adored him for, "What are we having, babe?"

You don't even hesitate before answering, "Pizza, from Milano's. It's my favorite, other than that one place in Italy you took me to. Please? Oh and one of their salads, with the little bread knots on the side!"

He glances at the nurse, awaiting a reprimand for your meal choice.

"As your nurse, I feel I should remind you that while you can have anything you feel like eating, we usually recommend something small and light at first. Broth or soup with some toast, maybe. The salad may be fine, but the pizza might be a little heavy. Taking it slow would be best. But everyone is different."

"So..just cheese then? Maybe some mushrooms?"

You let your head fall back against the pillow, a foggy haze settling over you, "Plain cheese, no mushrooms."

"Alright, sounds good. Why don't I go call it in and pull the car around? Meet you out front?" He leans closer, a quick peck to your cheek before pulling his hand loose from yours and turning to leave.

"Hey, wait," You attempt to tug at his wrist, but fail, your brain still set to slow-motion. He takes pity on you and returns to your side, "Let's eat there. It's in the mall so we can window shop after we eat."

"You sure? You still seem a bit tipsy, honey."

You don't feel tipsy. Just tired, and hungry. Very hungry. As if on cue, your stomach makes a remarkably loud noise; an objection at not being fed for the past 12 hours.

"Alright, alright, calm down. " You let out an embarrassed groan when you realize he's talking to your stomach, "We'll eat there."

He kisses you again, closer to your mouth, "Missed."

"I did, huh?" He chuckles, close enough to your face now your noses are almost touching, "Let's try again."

This time his lips meet yours and you know he missed on purpose the first time by how amused he looks when he pulls away.

"One more for luck?" You can't resist letting the back of your hand wander over his face, before resting the palm of your hand against his cheek.

"I think I can handle that," He smiles before landing another quick peck to your lips, "Be good for the nurse while I'm gone. I'll have the getaway car ready in 10, yeah?"

//

You're certain Harry would have fed you if you would have let him, right here in the mall food court in front of everyone. But you refuse, insisting even, on carrying your own tray to the table. He chuckles when you pull your phone out of your sweater pocket to take a picture of your food, quickly uploading it to Facebook.

He watches you closely as you take the first bite, even pulling his own phone out to sneak a photo of you when you temporarily close your eyes to appreciate the indulgence of being able to eat one of your favorite foods again; free from that anxious feeling of whether or not it would settle right with your body later. You open your eyes the very moment after he captured the image.

"Harry!"

"You just looked so happy! I couldn't help it. You know I'll never post it anyway. Snagged a few of you earlier in your little blue cap they made you wear too." He flips back through to show you. You try to snatch the phone away, but he's too quick to pull his hand back and stash his phone in his pocket.

"When??"

"After you fell asleep, right before they came to take you back."

He takes a bite from his own generous slice of pizza in front of him before gesturing to your tray, "How is it?"

"Amazing. Even better than before, if possible."

His smile is bright, loving the satisfaction of seeing you actually enjoy food again.

Your plan to walk around the mall was cut short, you could barely make it through one store without yawning. You cling to Harry most of the way back to the car, his arm securely wrapped around you to keep you steady.

You doze off on the drive home, and when your eyes flutter open you find him opening the passenger door, offering a hand to help lift you out of the car and up the stairs into the house. Your foot stumbles on the first step, failing to make contact and you almost fall back.

"Easy," He giggles, an arm thrown behind your back to catch you before encouraging softly, "Try again."

When he's confident you're stable enough on your feet, he lets go to unlock the door.

You're greeted by a bouquet of flowers, a colorful arrangement of roses and lilies from Harry's band mates. You immediately recognize Sarah's handwriting on the card and make a mental note to shoot everyone a thank you text later. You don't know if it's the medication still in your system, the exhaustion of the day, or the overwhelming amount of love that makes you teary eyed.

Harry stands behind you as you admire the flowers and the card, arms curving around to hug you, careful of the large bandage on your upper abdomen and the two smaller steri-strips on your right side.

"How did they know pink roses were my favorite?"

"They love you, peach." He rests his chin on your shoulder, "Besides, you've only mentioned growing up with a pink rose bush in your Nanna's garden about a hundred times."

"I always loved it. Still do."

Your mind travels back to your earliest memories spent there; summers when you practically lived at the small house on the hill. Helping pick tomatoes and peppers from the garden, too warm afternoons spent with a book in your lap under the shade of a peach tree, your grandfather's corny jokes and loving smile. Your Nanna's too generous portions of food contributing to the few extra curves you still carried with you to this day.

You don't even notice the tears at first. They slip down your cheeks and land on his arm. Once you realize, you try to quickly wipe them away, but Harry sees.

"Hey..c'mon, I think your high's wearing off a bit, bub. Pajamas, meds, nap. Sound good?" He turns you to face him, using the sleeve of his shirt to brush away any tears that still linger at the corner of your eyes.

"What time is it?"

"Almost 3..why?"

"No nap. I'll never sleep tonight, and you know how grumpy I get when my sleep schedule is thrown off." Even with your declaration of not wanting a nap, you can't help but rub your eyes, a weak attempt to keep yourself awake. Any resolve Harry had to try to convince you to nap melts away. A smirk on his face, he knows you'll eventually crash later, most likely on his chest or in his arms. He's content to let you be stubborn for now.

"Okay, then. New plan. Pajamas, meds, movie. Better?"

"Better. You get everything ready and pick the movie while I change?"

"You don't wanna pick the movie?"

You wave him off, already shuffling towards the bedroom, "You're the boss today, remember?"

You take your time gathering what you need to get cozy for the rest of the day, selecting an oversized, well-worn tie dye t-shirt and leggings from your dresser. You even take a moment to dip into Harry's extensive sweatshirt collection, grabbing your favorite one. It's amazingly soft and still smells of him, a faint scent of his cologne and well..just Harry. You couldn't imagine anything more comforting.

In your pursuit to feel more lucid, you venture into the bathroom, taking a moment to wash your face. The cool water instantly refreshes you and pushes you closer to feeling like yourself again. Wanting your hair out of your face, you pluck a scrunchy from your shared collection of hair accessories. You quickly recognize that your arms still have that too heavy feeling of unconsciousness and after a few attempts to gather your curls into some sort of up-do, you give up and loop the accessory around your wrist to try again later.

Harry senses your frustration when you find him in the kitchen, two small green pill bottles sitting on the counter in front of him. He's already filled your favorite cup with ice water, and you gratefully take it and drink from it.

"What's wrong?" His brow creases with concern and you feel guilty for making him worry over something so silly.

"Nothing..just wanted my hair up out of my face but my arms wouldn't cooperate." You try to laugh it off to put him more at ease, "It's not a big deal."

You know it's only the weariness of the day still making you feel so emotional, clear-headed you would not be upset over something so small.

"Here. Let me try." He slides the scrunchy from your wrist and pulls you closer to him, moving behind you to gently work long fingers through your hair, gathering it all in a loose ponytail on top of your head before securing it around a few times with the scrunchy.

You let your shoulders drop with a deep sigh when he's done, it was such a simple thing, but it made you feel so much lighter. He spins you around to face him, a charming gleam of pride at his handiwork adorning his face, "Too tight?"

"No. Much better. Thank you, Harry. You take such good care of me always, but today..I don't know what I would've done without you. I made such a big fuss and probably made you miserable with all of my worrying." You're suddenly very aware that you are rambling, but when you catch a glimpse of his face, his smile is wide. So bright that the skin around his eyes is crinkling.

He leans towards you, lips stopping whatever words may have come next, arms wrapping around you to pull you closer in a soft, warm embrace. When he pulls away, his eyes bore right into yours, and your heart swells with more love than you could ever imagine having for one person. But he wasn't just any person. He was your person, your whole word staring back at you.

"I'm SO proud of you. You've been so strong today, always knew you had that strength in you, but seeing you take that leap of faith..doing something you knew you should despite your fear, that's all you, love. I can't take any credit for that. You've made me anything but miserable, trust me."

His face is still close enough to yours that you nudge forward, pressing your forehead to his, a silent appreciation of his affection.

"Any pain yet?" He pulls back, a thumb across your cheek, eyes still locked on yours.

"My head kind of hurts? And I still just feel kind of..drunk."

"You have always been a bit of a lightweight, babe. And a thief too, I see. S'that my sweatshirt?"

"Have not!" You swat playfully at his arm, "Maybe. Is that my hair clip in your hair?"

"Possibly." His eyes dart up to the swoop of curls on top of his head, a black plastic clip twisting it back and away from his face.

"Guess we're even then."

"S'pose we are." He tries to keep his eyes narrowed in a mock attempt of annoyance, but it quickly fades into laughter.

You decide against FaceTiming your family, hoping that hearing your voice will be enough. It seems to satisfy them at least for the rest of the day. You assure them that Harry is taking very good care of you and that everything went as smooth as could be expected.

He raises one eyebrow at you as you hang up, "As smooth as expected, huh? You aren't going to tell them the truth?"

"What's to tell? I had an infection and now it's gone. I'm fine, there's no sense in worrying them. We can give them the full story later."

He shrugs, fingers working to open one of the green pill bottles before passing one of the white pills to you, "For your headache, lovie. There's something here for nausea too if you need it. M'worried the pizza might've been too much. Maybe you should take one of these..just in case?"

"Harry, I promise I will tell you if I feel anything other than fine." Your hand runs from his shoulder down his bicep, squeezing gently, "Besides, I cannot take a whole one of those. If you think I'm a lightweight now..I'll sleep for the whole week if I take that."

He slips the bottle in his pocket, pulling you in to press a kiss to the top of your head, "We'll keep it close just in case, okay?"

"Sounds good," Your hand trails back up to his neck to work fingers through his hair, "Hey, thought we were watching a movie? What'd you pick?"

"Thought we could decide together. C'mon, let's get you comfy in bed."

"Ever the gentleman, always trying to get me in your bed."

"Hey! I am a perfect gentleman, thank you very much," He chuckles, a hand coming to rest on the small of your back, "Just thought you'd be more comfortable, you can prop up and stretch your feet out."

You let him tug you along for the second time today, thankful it's the luxury of your shared bed you get to settle into this time. He tucks you in softly, propping pillows behind your back and head.

"Comfy? Need anything else?"

"No, just need you to quit babying me so much and relax with me for a bit."

"Since when am I not allowed to baby you?"

You roll your eyes, "Never said you weren't allowed. Just want you to stop worrying so much, that's all."

"Good. Cause y'are my baby," No matter how many times you'd heard him say it before, it never failed to make you blush, "Do anything for you, y'know that, right?"

"I know," You look down at your hands, trying to slow your racing heart, "You never let me forget."

"Hey," He pokes your cheek, pulling your gaze back up to him, "I love you."

"I love you more, H."

He kisses your forehead, "Impossible. I love you most."

The reference to one of your favorite movies has you smiling at him, that dreamy feeling falling over you again, "Can we watch Tangled?"

"Sure, princess."

He sinks next to you, head propped up on your shoulder, navigating easily through Disney+ to find your requested movie.

Your eyes drift closed right about the time the lanterns are being released in the sky, a moment that normally leaves your face wet with tears, the soft vibrations of Harry humming along the perfect lullaby to push you further into your dream.

//

He wakes you later in the evening.

"Dinner's on the table if you want to join me."

"Time's it?" Your voice is still heavy with sleep.

"7. You were sleeping so deeply I didn't want to wake you, thought your body could use the extra sleep today."

"Yeah. It was nice, thank you." You stretch your arms forward, reaching for his hands to help pull you up.

"How do you feel?"

"A little sore. More sober, for sure."

Dinner is simple; a bowl of plain broth, salad, and toast. Exactly what the nurse suggested earlier. There's even a warm mug of tea waiting for you.

"With honey for my honey," He's so proud of his cheesy expression of love you cannot help but smile.

You look at him curiously when he sits next to you, the same boring meal set out for himself.

"Harry..you can eat what you want, babe. Seriously you've done enough today, more than enough to be supportive. It wouldn't hurt my feelings if you made yourself something different."

"Nah. S'fine. We're in this together, yeah?"

You raise your eyebrows at him playfully, "Did you have an organ snatched from your body today?"

"No, I didn't." He laughs, "I just meant food wise, love. It's vegetable broth, by the way, hope that's alright."

"It's perfect."

You nudge him lightly, an elbow to his side, shifting closer to ask for a kiss. He meets you the rest of the way, lips planted firmly on yours. When you don't pull away, he quickly adds another.

After dinner is done and you have another round of meds, the two of you end up in an awkward ball of cuddles on the couch. Harry flips through the channels on the tv before finding a show you both agree on.

But you're too restless, unable to find a position comfortable enough for you. You shift a few times, finally giving up and letting out a frustrated groan before tossing the blanket off the both of you and springing up and off the couch.

Harry doesn't panic, just grabs your hand before you can get too far away or lose your balance, keeping his voice low when he asks, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing hurts. I just can't get comfortable, and I don't feel right."

"What doesn't feel right, angel? Explain."

"I don't feel like myself. I don't know how to explain it. Just feel off."

He sees you're on the verge of tears and ascends from his spot on the couch, arms quickly enveloping you before placing a finger under your chin to pull your face up to look at him.

"It's probably gonna take a day or so to adjust, baby. Yes it was a minor surgery but it was a major change to your body." He's bending now to look right into your eyes, searching them,  "How can we fix it tonight, hmm? What do you need?"

Tears are free flowing, falling on the front of your t-shirt and down to the floor.

"Take your time. Breathe." A large hand smoothing warm circles firmly across your back; a balm for your restless spirit.

You pause, deep breath in before slowly letting it out, "I think I just need to move around for a bit."

"Let's go for a walk, eh? A quick one and then back to bed. Your mind needs more rest. How's that sound?" He taps your forehead softly.

"Okay, yeah." You nod your head, an approval of his plan.

"Don't worry about it, okay? Everything's gonna be fine. You're gonna be fine."

You nod again, scared your voice will break if you try to speak. He knew that those words held a lot of weight for you, he'd repeated them often throughout this whole process and to hear them now was a reminder of how safe you were. That with him, you would always be safe and loved.

Being dark outside meant you gracelessly padding through the house, up and down the hallway a few times and back to the living room. Harry stays close, encouraging you along with little claps and kisses to motivate you. When your stomach starts to feel uneasy, he urges you once again to take something for nausea. You agree to take a half a pill, knowing it'll help you sleep.

Despite the nap you had earlier and only being awake for a couple of hours, it doesn't take much convincing for you to settle back into bed.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

He's already reclined next to you, book in hand, the soft light from the lamp illuminating one side of his face. You're smushed against him, drifting between that sweet space of almost asleep and wanting to stay awake to enjoy any spare moment you get with him. His hand working through your hair helps push you towards the former of the two.

"I'm sorry to be such a burden today," Your words are slurring together but you continue on, just needing to get your thoughts out before he can stop you, "I don't deserve you and I shouldn't have overreacted so much about something so simple."

"Hey, none of that now," He lays the book on the nightstand, careful to save his place for later before pulling you closer to him, "You were not, nor have you ever been a burden to me. Just because you needed a little extra help today does not mean you aren't deserving of me or my love. You will never have to earn that. It's yours, always has been, will be as long as you decide to keep me around."

"Thank you. For all of it. I'll always want you."

"Always? Y'might change your mind someday, angel."

"I won't. Promise."

"Yeah? Me either."

A kiss laid delicately to the top of your head has your eyes dangerously close to falling shut again before another thought navigates its way through your mind and out of your mouth before you can stop it.

"H..what am I gonna do with a full week off from work?"

"Let me take care of you?"

//

And that's exactly what he does.

Mornings spent sleeping in, late breakfasts made together and afternoon walks. Evenings consisting of the two of you preparing dinner together or ordering takeout from some of the forbidden places you couldn't eat from before. Mugs of herbal tea before early bedtimes, you sweetly falling asleep to the sound of his voice reading to you most nights.

But his favorite part was that the scent of lavender was no longer cursed for you. Some nights before your surgery, when you simply could not fall asleep the pain was so unbearable, you would fill the tub with hot water and lavender scented bubbles to try to calm yourself enough to be able to drift off afterwards. It never worked, the heat always doing more harm than good. Harry would always be waiting for you, open arms and a soft towel to wrap you in.

So the smell became one you hated, memories of sleepless nights and nausea. But now you were free to use it again for what you always loved it for before it was cursed. In your body wash, lotion, even your laundry detergent; spreading the scent all over your shared space in as many ways as you could.

He even mentions it one night after dinner, when the two of you are pressed impossibly close together on the couch. His nose buried into your neck, inhaling deeply, pulling away to announce, "You smell like you again, love. Missed it so much." He burrows back in, placing kisses from your neck to your shoulder, ignoring your giggles and protests of how much it tickles.

A week later, the alarm wakes you sooner than you've become accustomed to, reminding you of your return to work. Harry's arm thrown over your waist pulls you closer as you try to leave the bed, a sleepy "Don't go." mumbled in your ear.

You do your best to peel yourself away from him, admitting silently to yourself how much harder it is for you to leave the warmth of your bed as it is for him to let you go.

//

2 years later, you have a scar you swear didn't heal right, and a man who loves you even more because of it.

[scapegrace74-blog]

Ginger Snap, Chapter 6

A/N  Well, here it is.  The last chapter of Ginger Snap.   As an unplanned fic inspired by a vanity license plate, I’m happy with how it turned out.   There will be a short epilogue posted in the next week or so.  In the meantime,  thank you so much for coming on this unexpected ride with me!   This chapter’s themed title is Fire in the Belly.

Previous chapters are best enjoyed on my AO3 page, because I have a bad habit of going back and editing them after they’ve been posted.

The next five months were some of the most difficult of my life.  

After our talk, Frank and I agreed that it would be best that we parted ways.  The Southside flat was close to the university, plus I’d never truly felt at home there, so it made sense for him to keep it.  Fortunately, we’d never combined our savings and I still had money tucked away from my time as a medical resident in Boston.

Geillis wanted me to move into her sprawling Murrayfield home, at least temporarily, but I knew that I needed a place of my own.  To stand on my own two feet, as it were.   Which was how I found myself moving my few belongings into a modest Morningside walk-up as the rest of Edinburgh celebrated Hogmanay with fireworks and drunken revelry.

I scheduled the written component of my medical licensing exam for February.  This was likely foolhardy, but I’d already wasted enough time.  As a result, almost every waking hour was dedicated to studying.  The flat remained an empty box whose naked beige walls bore witness to my rudimentary existence.

Geillis called regularly, reminding me to eat and to occasionally step outside for a breath of fresh air.  Returning up the high street from one of our weekly coffee dates, a bright flash in a shop window caught my eye.

I stopped and stared as the afternoon sun lit the vase like a shard of stained glass.  It was a profound shade of blue: the colour of a field of indigo, of the night sky in a Byzantine icon, of Jamie’s eyes when he laughed.  It sat on my windowsill, filled with the season’s first daffodils, as I pored over practice exams.

***

“Geillis, I passed!  I fucking passed!”  An elderly woman seated across from me on the bus muttered under her breath about vulgar Sassenachs, but I was too elated to care.

“Of course ye did, ye brilliant disaster.  Now I can brag tae the neighbours I have my own personal physician.”

“Not so fast, Duncan.  I still need to pass the clinical exam, and that’s no small thing.”  My gut twisted just thinking about it, but unlike the written exam, there was little I could do to prepare.  Either I knew how to perform as a doctor or I did not.  The long months since I’d last treated a patient loomed like a large shadow over that question.

“Och, yer bum’s oot the window Claire,” my friend dismissed blithely.  “Ye’re gonna do great.  When do ye head down tae yer homeland, then?”

“May first.”  The practical examination took place in Manchester and needed to be scheduled three months in advance.

“Sounds like ye’ve got some time on yer hands.  Whate’er are ye going tae do with yerself?” Geillis asked in a singsong voice.

Fortunately for me, spring was Edinburgh’s most pleasant season.  Its many gardens and laneways erupted in carpets of buds and blooms.  The air smelled fresh and green, like biting into a tart apple.  I took long walks and fell in love with the city I now called home.  There were secondhand bookstores to explore and a weekly craft market where I gradually amassed an assortment of items that made my flat feel like a home.  With each passing day, my existence felt more and more like a life; one I defined for myself.

I also started to explore my options for employment, hoping for a job offer from one of the city’s hospitals that was conditional upon my successful completion of the licensing process.  It was to that end that I found myself walking down the corridor of The Royal Edinburgh hospital after what I hoped had been a rather successful interview with the deputy director of surgery.

“Claire?”

I recognized her voice immediately.  Before turning around I closed my eyes and sent out a fervent appeal to the universe.

“Jenny, hi.  How are you?”

She looked just the same, her straight black hair such a contrast to her brother.  Next to her stood a man, but not the man I had conjured the moment I heard her voice.  I was unclear whether that meant my prayer had been answered or not.  Seeing my gaze stray, Jenny jumped to introductions.

“This is my husband, Ian.  We’re here fer treatment on his leg.”

“Nothing serious, I hope.”  

“Jes a fitting fer a new prosthetic.  Jenny keeps beatin’ me o’er the head with the old one, ye see.”  I laughed, instantly liking his easy-going manner, so in contrast with Jenny’s intensity.

“Ye must be the Claire I hear sae much about,” he went on, and I wondered what had been said about me in the Fraser household.

“Nothing bad, I hope.”

Ian smiled warmly.  “Only good things, I promise ye.”

“What brings ye tae the hospital, Claire?” Jenny interjected.

I explained how I was in the process of qualifying to practice medicine in Scotland, provided I could pass my exams.  Jenny and Ian were both delighted, congratulating me as though I’d already accomplished my goal.  As we spoke about Wee Jamie’s latest exploits and the ongoing growth of Ginger Snap, I couldn’t help notice that Jenny was staring at my hands.  At my left hand in particular.  Finally, I couldn’t resist temptation any longer.

“And, how is Jamie doing?”  I tried to sound casual, but I was certain my faltering voice betrayed me.

“Very well,” Jenny replied.  “Busy, as ye can imagine, but he thrives on chaos.”

I nodded, trying to be satisfied with the news that he was well.  It was the most I could hope for, really.  Jenny eyed me shrewdly before continuing.

“He’s a good man, my brother.  Any lass would be verra lucky tae have him.  I’d like tae see him settled, but he refuses tae be rushed.  Says the right woman is worth the wait.”  She paused before adding,  “I reckon ye ken wha’ he means.”

“Yes,” I breathed.  “I know exactly what he means.”

***

I took the overnight train from Edinburgh to Manchester.  It meant I was likely to arrive at the testing centre deprived of sleep, but I rationalized that most of my residency could be characterized as one long evaluation under similar conditions, and I hadn’t killed anyone yet.  Still, as the velvety darkness slipped by outside my window, studded by the lights of passing farms, my doubts got the better of me.

I texted Geillis, looking for moral support.  For once she didn’t reply immediately.  There was one other name on my laughably short list of contacts.  I deliberated for all of a minute, but the late hour and creeping panic made me impulsive.

Hello.

Best to start with something innocuous, rather than the slightly more revealing “I miss you.  I think about you every day.”  A reply bubble appeared immediately after I hit send.  At least I hadn’t woken him up.  A small tempest stirred in my gut.

Arsonist.  Hello.  How are you?

I tried to picture him.  Was he at home?  Working late?  Or, in a scenario that played out far too often in my mind, on a date?

I’m alright.  Well, to be honest, I feel like I’m going to puke and cry.  Not necessarily in that order.

Och, lass.  Do you need me to come over?

Damn it, this man.  I had done nothing to deserve his unswerving loyalty but mislead him and then disappear for months on end.  And yet here he was, willing to come to my aid on the flimsy pretext of a late night text.  Guilt and tenderness warred for possession of my heart.

That may prove a bit difficult, Jamie.  I’m on a train to England.

There was a long pause, and then a two letter reply.

Oh.

I realized at once that he’d leapt to the wrong conclusion: that I had left Edinburgh for good.  I rushed to correct the error.

I’m taking the second stage of my examination to practice as a NHS doctor tomorrow.   It’s all hands-on situations, and the licensing facility is in Manchester.

Arsonist, that’s wonderful news!  I’m so proud of you.

I blushed, then leaned my heated cheek against the chilled pane of glass.  It had been a rash impulse, but this conversation was exactly what I needed.  I wasn’t alone in this.  Geillis and Jamie were in my corner.

What has your stomach in a twist, then?

What if I’ve forgotten what to do?!  It’s been almost a year since I’ve so much as used a stethoscope, Jamie.  The exam is eighteen real-life situations and you’re given eight minutes to respond to each one.  Not a second longer.  I’m just...  what if I fail?

And there it was.  The kernel of fear that lived at the heart of everything I did.  What if I failed?   What if my best wasn’t good enough?

Claire, listen to me.  You’re a doctor, just as I am a chef.  It wouldn’t matter if I had not set foot in a kitchen in ten years, I would still remember how to cook, and I know that it’s the same for you.  I believe it with everything in me.

On some level, I knew that he was right.  But it still comforted me tremendously to hear it from someone I trusted.

Alright.  That helps.  I should let you get to bed.  Thank you for talking me off my ledge, Jamie.

Anytime, Arsonist.

As I got ready sign off, another text bubble appeared.

Oh, and Claire?  Don’t burn down their wee laboratory, okay? ;-)

I laughed out loud, muting my phone and reclining my seat.  Outside, the stars shone brightly, tiny fires in the firmament to guide me on my way.

***

It was a lovely late spring day, and the retractable doors to the fire station were open to the warm breeze.  I could hear Angus’ voice as he led a cooking demonstration for a group of young women; a bridal shower by the look of their ridiculous costumes.

“Mind the coriander, lass.  Tis a verra powerful aphrodisiac, ken?  I willna be held responsible if ye canna resist my considerable charms after ye eat yon soup.”

There was an outburst of giggles as I rounded the corner and entered the reception area.  Jenny was on the phone.  She halted mid-sentence when she saw me walk in.  I rubbed my hands down the front of my jeans, trying to stay calm.

“He’s in the storeroom, in the back,” Jenny prompted before I could even offer a greeting.  I smiled gratefully, relieved I didn’t have to make small talk.  I had only so much courage stored in reserve, and I didn’t want to use it all up before reaching my destination.

The storeroom was long and narrow, lit by a single naked bulb and girded with shelves.  Jamie stood with his broad back to the door, his curls absorbing the light like amber.  He had a clipboard in one hand, performing some kind of inventory.

“Jes how many lentils dae ye reckon we need, Janet?  There’s nine cans of them here already, and ye have us ordering ten more.”

I’d almost forgotten how much I loved his voice, the undulating grit and silk of it.  I had to remaster the art of speech before I could reply.

“It’s not Jenny.  It’s me.  Claire.”

He froze, and if it weren’t for the sudden rapid flow of his breath I would have assumed he hadn’t heard me.  My nerves got the better of me and I blurted out, “I like lentils.  You should listen to your sister.”

“Claire.”  More sigh than word.  He slowly turned.  It was when our eyes met that I knew nothing had changed for him.  It was still there, after all these months.  That look that told me I was the map to his journey, the focus to his vision, the reason to his why.  

Hopefully he could read that same certainty on my face.

“I passed my exams,” I began.  “I’m a doctor again.”

“Ye never stopped bein’ a doctor.  This jus’ makes it official.”

“I’m still a disaster in the kitchen,” I continued.  “Last week I ruined two saucepans.”

“Tha’s only a tragedy if ye dinna have someone willin’ tae cook fer ye,” he replied with a strange squinting motion I understood was meant to be a wink.

“I’m still learning who I am.  How to be true to the person on the inside,” I confessed.  This is what had kept me away for so long, worried that I would escape from Frank’s orbit just to be caught up in another.  Jamie never once expected my submission, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t offer it out of habit.

“I’ll let ye in on a secret.  Sae is everyone else,” he replied.

Without realizing it, we’d both been moving until we were crowded together amongst the dried herbs and canned goods.  My hand rested against the solid metronome of his heart.  Just one more confession to go.

“I burn for you in a way I’ve never burned for anything before.”

There.  It was said.  A thousand wings of rapture beat against the cage of my ribs, clamoring to break free.  Jamie carefully pushed a loose curl behind my ear before cupping my jaw.

“Wee arsonist.  Come, set my life on fire.”

[aimeelouart]

I dunno how you feel about Rufus, but I think it’d be kind of interesting to see if he found a young time travel Cloud instead of the 1sts. Like it starts off where he like “oh another shinra bastard” but by the end evolves to “if anyone hurts Cloud I’d kill everyone in this tower and then myself” lol

The Tanuki of Shinra Tower - 2106 words, roughly the same continuity as SSC, so Cloud looks like a kid

--

Rufus blinked at the little blond child, freezing halfway through his office door. The little blond child glared back from the wall, a knife clenched between his teeth. Slowly, he slid back into the vent he was hanging out of and pulled the cover closed behind him.

“Huh,” said Rufus. He picked up the phone on his desk and dialed Veld’s office.

⁠—

The child was back, this time raiding the break room for food at the asscrack of dawn. He paused when Rufus came in, eyes briefly flitting down to where Rufus’s guns were holstered, before apparently dismissing him as unimportant and going back to rooting through the fridge.

Rufus narrowed his eyes, a little insulted but more than curious enough to set his annoyance aside for the moment. He realized what he hadn’t the first time⁠: the tiny little thing had mako in his bright blue eyes. The tiny little thing had a SOLDIER’s enhancements. So Rufus leaned against the wall by the door and crossed his arms over his chest, observing as the child picked up a container of leftover wutaian noodles, sniffed it, made a face, and put it back.

Had his father handed one of his bastard children over to Science? It didn’t seem like something he’d do, but at the same time it didn’t seem like something he wouldn’t do. And if the little thing was an experiment, why was he running amok like this? Veld hadn’t had a clue that a blond child was loose in the vents when he’d first called, though Rufus and the Turks in general were starting to think the kid had something to do with the many mysterious happenings around the Tower.

The kid finished his raid as Rufus watched thoughtfully, standing up with an apple in his mouth and a half-eaten sandwich in one hand. He kicked the fridge door shut, cast Rufus one last uninterested look, and scrambled back into the open vent, closing it behind him with his bare feet.

“Huh,” said Rufus.

He mentally dubbed the child Tanuki and set the coffee to brewing before he went back to his office and called Veld again.

⁠—

The Turks weren’t making much progress on tracking Tanuki down, which was, frankly, hilarious. Some wild theories were being thrown around, mostly for entertainment and venting frustration that they were somehow losing to a child whose age wasn’t even in the double digits. The most popular theory was that Tanuki was actually a very lifelike robot.

Rufus’s personal favorite theory was that Tanuki was the hellspawn of Scarlett and his father. Scarlett, being a heartless bitch, had dumped her newborn baby in a reactor, from which he had then emerged filled with the wrath of the gods and spite enough to kill all of Shinra by a thousand petty cuts.

Considering how often the coffee makers in the executive floors had been mysteriously sabotaged, it seemed about right.

Rufus came back to his office from an executive meeting that had lasted well past 9pm, exhausted and determined to pick up Darkstar so that they could go home immediately. He found his dog, certainly, curled up in the corner of his office on her bed. 

He also found Tanuki, sleeping like a pup against the barrel of her chest.

Starry raised her head and whined very very softly, short tail wagging as if to say ‘look what I have!’ Rufus toed off his shoes and crept over to crouch just out of arm’s reach, observing the boy’s sleeping face. Of course his murderous (pushover) guard hound would be the first to pin the child down. He shook his head and patted her flank. Her tail wagged harder.

The child woke all at once, eyes flying open and landing squarely on Rufus. It was impressive. He’d seen Turks who had far less control over themselves so soon after waking.

“Oh. You,” said the child in a sleep-roughened voice. He rubbed briefly at his eyes, yawning without actually opening his mouth. “Tell Darkstar to get off me.” One of her heavy forelegs was laid over his waist, keeping him trapped curled up against her. Mako strength or not, it was probably difficult to wiggle out from under a heavy, stubborn dog.

A little smile curled at Rufus’s lips. The kid was fearless. He liked it, especially in a maybe-possibly little half-brother. “Why would I do that instead of, say, calling a Turk while you’re stuck here?”

The kid shot him a wry look that didn’t quite fit his soft young face. “I could kill either or both of you instead,” he said with not an ounce of false bravado. Pointedly, he tapped the hilt of the knife at his waist with one finger.

“Then why don’t you?” Rufus was curious. What exactly were the kid’s goals here? Based on his preternatural skillset, he could probably have killed every single person in the Tower and gotten away with it.

“Too much trouble. I’d prefer you alive.” He reached up and scratched Starry behind the ear. She leaned into it, tail and tentacle waving happily. “And Darkstar is the most tolerable out of all of you.”

Fair enough. Rufus was satisfied for now. He whistled and Darkstar got up with a deeply reluctant whine, slinking sulkily over to his side. Tanuki got up too, stretching fluidly, and headed for the vents.

“Do you have a name?” Rufus asked impulsively.

The kid climbed up and slid into the vent feet-first, pausing to look at Rufus. A tiny, shit-eating grin curled at his lips. “All things considered,” he said, “I think the nickname you gave me is good enough for now. I’ll tell you when you’ve earned my name.” Then he closed the grate and vanished.

Rufus huffed. Alright then.

⁠—

The tiny acts of sabotage continued apace, much to the Turks’ frustration. Veld still had yet to see Tanuki himself, though a few of the younger Turks had caught glimpses. That might have been deliberate on Tanuki’s part⁠—he seemed to be something of a little shit. Rufus himself had semi-frequent, if unpredictable, conversations with the child, mostly when he caught him stealing food from the break room. 

Or from his desk. Tanuki was shameless.

The child would pass on information when it suited him⁠—flash drives, printed files, occasionally physical evidence. It all seemed very random, but Rufus guessed that there was some kind of connection between everything. Whatever it was, it was inscrutable, even to Veld.

Or at least, it was until nearly all of Science was demolished in one fell swoop.

The chaos was incredible. As the reports rolled in, it seemed that dozens upon dozens of small events had neatly lined up to kill the top scientists and send the whole department screeching to a halt. Hojo was dead, killed by one of his own experiments. Hollander was dead, drowned in a vat of mako. Every fire sprinkler in the whole building had gone off and didn’t shut off for nearly thirty minutes. The physical damage was incalculable.

And Rufus had a feeling it was all Tanuki’s doing.

Oh, he had no evidence. But arranging something so grand in scale would certainly explain why someone of his skills had been doing nothing but relatively harmless sabotage for nearly three months. Veld agreed, when he voiced his thoughts. No one had any idea where the little gremlin was, or how he’d done any of it.

Rufus got part of an answer when he retired to his executive apartment at the top of the Tower, unwilling to go to his preferred home in the city proper when there was still so much work to do. Starry perked up the moment the front door opened, whining and bounding away from his side. Eyes narrowed, Rufus drew his weapons and crept into the apartment. If Starry was whining instead of growling, it was probably fine, but one could never be too cautious.

He followed the sound of Starry’s whines into the master bedroom. There was a trail of blood leading from the windows to the en-suite bathroom. When he entered, he found Tanuki curled up in the bathtub, head pillowed on a folded-up towel with Starry nosing at his hair. His hand was pressed over his stomach. Bright crimson soaked into his shirt and dripped trickled into the bathtub, flowing steadily down the soft incline and into the drain. His lips were tinged blue, cheeks pale, the dark circles beneath his eyes stark.

“Shit,” Rufus breathed, fumbling to holster his guns and pull out his PHS as he quickly crossed over to kneel by the tub. “Kid.”

Tanuki didn’t open his eyes. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly. “Did you know...that…Hojo is...actually a...good shot?”

“Was,” Rufus corrected, hitting the speed-dial for Veld’s personal phone. It was the first time he’d ever used it.

Tanuki huffed a laugh. “Was,” he agreed. “Sorry. Tried not to bleed too much on your fancy expensive carpet.”

“Oh, make no mistake,” Rufus said, shucking off his white jacket and shifting the PHS to his other ear, “you’ll be cleaning it up later.”

“Sure,” the kid agreed, breezily enough that it made Rufus’s stomach twist strangely.

Veld picked up. “Rufus?”

“Tanuki is shot and bleeding out in my bathtub. Executive suite. Send medical assistance.” He paused. “SOLDIER kit, a surgeon if you can manage it.”

“Understood.” Veld hung up.

Rufus got another towel and pressed it against Tanuki’s torso, gently moving aside the little hand that could no longer press down with mako strength to staunch the bleeding. “Hold on, kid,” he told his maybe-possibly⁠ little...no, his definitely little brother. Because Rufus said so, and what he said went.  “Help is coming.”

Tanuki didn’t say much of anything.

⁠—

The kid lived, though it was touch and go for a while. They couldn’t risk taking him down to the non-science medical floors just yet, so Veld came personally escorting one of the Turks' own medics. Assisting in emergency surgery on a mako-enhanced child on the floor of his bathroom was certainly not something Rufus was ever going to forget.

Eventually, though, long after his knees had gone numb and his back started cramping, the last bullet was fished out and the wound closed with a Cura, cast by Veld because the medic was exhausted. Rufus washed the blood from himself, then helped the medic wash the blood off the kid. They put him in Rufus’s bed, covers tucked up to his chin with heating pads (and Starry) around him to help as he recovered from blood loss.

The medic left, escorted back to her own floor by a younger Turk. Veld and Rufus both watched Tanuki sleep, lost in their thoughts.

“Did you know that Hojo was actually a good shot?” Rufus said abruptly.

Veld looked at him from the corner of his eye. “...no. That, I did not know.”

Rufus fished a bloodied USB drive out of his pants⁠—the same USB drive Tanuki had been clutching in his free hand. On its side, a neat label read ‘For Verdot: Valentine & Gast.’ He handed it over.

“I have a feeling he wasn’t just being glib about his own injuries,” he said, a wry, tired smirk pulling at his lips. “He’s a little shit like that.”

Veld read the label and slowly⁠—so slowly⁠—slipped the drive into his inner suit pocket. “Hm,” he said, a strange tightness in the corners of his eyes. It softened a little when he looked back at the kid. He leaned over, briefly resting his hand on top of Tanuki’s wild blond hair. “Get some rest,” he told Rufus, standing upright and straightening his suit jacket. “We have a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

On that cheerful note, he left.

Rufus glanced at his newfound little brother and sighed. Great. Now he had to sleep on the couch.

⁠—

When Rufus woke up the next day (late, because he deserved it for once, goddammit) he found Tanuki mysteriously missing and his fridge quite a bit emptier than it had been before he’d gone to sleep. He shambled around a bit, checking to make sure the kid hadn’t gone and holed himself up in a closet like a real tanuki or anything equally ridiculous.

There was a note on one of the pillows on his bed. In a surprisingly elegant hand, it read ‘call me Cloud.’ When he flipped it over, the other side had the name and number of a carpet cleaning company. Rufus threw his head back and laughed, startling Starry.

Yeah. Tanuki⁠—Cloud⁠—was going to be just fine.

[dc41896]

POV

So I’ve been wanting to write something based on the song pov by Ariana Grande and then a certain someone decided to attack my heart strings yet again playing the piano so this is an idea I thought of lol. Also this is a sequel to Between the Lines.

Pairing: Chris EvansxBlack Reader

⚠️: None, all fluff! (Well maybe a teensy amount of sad times because of the lyrics)

“There she is,” Chris smiles entering the small make shift studio holding two steaming mugs. Joining your bundled form on the grey loveseat, he hands one to you before sweetly kissing your cheek and moving your legs to stretch across his lap. “So how’s my two-time Grammy nominated superstar doing?”

That’s pretty much all he called you now, besides his usual baby and honey, ever since the list of nominations were announced a couple months ago. Every time the words left his mouth, you found yourself giddily smiling and feeling as if you were in a dream you were bound to wake up from any moment.

Like other artists, winning a Grammy was always one of your ultimate goals and now that there was a possibility you could take home not one but two, you felt immense pride and excitement that your hard work was paying off. This excitement soon turned into stress though with the added preparations you needed to complete as the big day quickly approached. Since you were also performing, you and your team had been busy thinking of what the perfect song choice would be as well as concepts that would match.

So far everything was perfect until your pianist had an unfortunate accident requiring him to have surgery on his wrist. Now you were even more stressed wondering if there were any other people you knew that could fill in.

“A little overwhelmed honestly,” you sigh placing your phone down before noticing what exactly was in your mug. “How did you know I was craving cocoa?”

“Well knowing how stressed you’ve been lately, I figured you’d want some since that’s when you crave it most.”

“Aww thank you baby,” you smile leaning over to wipe his mini chocolate mustache before kissing his lips.

“Still looking for a piano player?”

“Yea but with it coming up so soon, we might just have to do the backup song which isn’t entirely a bad thing, but then I’d have to think of a totally new concept, outfit, then we have to rehearse, I’d have to tell the producers at the show we changed it-,”

“Hey let’s take a break from that okay?,” he speaks trying to calm your rambling and very apparent nerves. Taking your hand, he pulls you closer to sit on his lap guiding your head to fall on his shoulder. “I know things aren’t going how you want, but everything will work out. You’re gonna have an amazing performance that people are gonna talk about for the rest of the year, and no matter what, me, your family, friends, and fans will be so proud of you.” Bringing your hand to his lips, he peppers kisses along your knuckles and fingertips making you smile as you snuggle closer to his neck.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, you know I’m always here.”

Soothingly rubbing circles in your back the way you loved for him to do, you nearly let the vibrations from his humming lull you to sleep before an idea makes you sit up, staring at him now confused.

“Honey? You okay?”

“Yea...yea I just thought of something. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You play piano for me! I mean you know the song you’ve heard it plenty of times, heck you even helped with the melody. Then that way nothing has to get changed!,” you excitedly answer holding onto his shoulders.

“Yea all of that is true, and I’d love to help but are you sure? Y/N that’s your night, I don’t want anybody trying to say I’m somehow tied into your success when that’s not true.”

“Chris, you and I both know people are gonna talk no matter what, and as long as I’m with you sadly someone’s gonna think that and try to spread it everywhere. But I don’t care what anyone says, and you shouldn’t either,” you smile moving your hands to rest on his partially bearded cheeks. “Like you said it’s my night and sharing it with the man I love will make it even more special. Especially if he’ll be right beside me the whole time.”

“Whether I was physically on that stage with you or not, you know I’m always beside you.”

Closing the gap between you, his lips capture yours in a quick yet passionate exchange before he rests his forehead against yours.

“Now if you win, does that mean my name goes on it too? I mean as you said I helped with the melody and I am providing my services,” he states as you both laugh holding onto each other.

“I don’t know about the name inscription, but we can work that out later,” you answer.

———

“Alright five minutes guys!,” Gina announces fluffing your curls one last time. Noticing your infamous lip bite as your knee rapidly bounces, Chris places both hands on your knee quickly kissing your cheek before being swatted away by your best friend giving you a much needed laugh. “Hey relax, no smudging the makeup until after they say cut.”

“Two minutes!,” a voice yells as you try your best to breathe.

“You got this alright? You’re gonna do great!” Giving you a quick hug, she disappears behind the cameras and soon you hear the cheery presenter in your ear as she begins introducing your performance.

“Alright now I’m not trying to be biased, but this next performer is one of my favorites! She’s been killing it this year with the release of her highly anticipated debut album which led to her two Grammy noms tonight. Performing from her personal studio, here’s Y/N.”

The piano softly plays in the background as the camera focuses on you perched on a wooden bar stool. Pulling the sleeves of your pullover sweater over your hands, you take a quick deep breath as your cue to start approaches.

It's like you got superpowers

Turn my minutes into hours

You got more than 20/20, babe

Made of glass, the way you see through me

You know me better than I do

Can't seem to keep nothing from you

How you touch my soul from the outside

Permeate my ego and my pride

I wanna love me

The way that you love me

Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too

I'd love to see me from your point of view

I wanna trust me

The way that you trust me

Ooh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do

I'd love to see me from your point of view

Glancing over at Chris in his backwards cap, grey tank, and sweats a small smile forms on your lips watching his fingers delicately press against each key. He could feel your eyes as he looked up with a smile himself winking at you and making you innocently giggle.

I'm gеtting used to receiving

Still gеtting good at not leaving

I'ma love you even though I'm scared

Learnin' to be grateful for myself

You love my lips 'cause they say the

Things we've always been afraid of

I can feel it startin' to subside

Learnin' to believe in what is mine

I wanna love me

The way that you love me

Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too

I'd love to see me from your point of view

I wanna trust me

The way that you trust me

Ooh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do

I'd love to see me from your point of view

Standing from your seat, you slowly make your way beside him on the bench resting your head on his shoulder while the camera pans around to catch your cute exchange.

I couldn't believe it or see it for myself

Know I be impatient

But now I'm out here, fallin', fallin'

Frozen, slowly thawing, got me right

I won't keep you waitin', waitin'

All my baggage fadin' safely

And if my eyes deceive me

Won't let them stray too far away

I wanna love me

The way that you love me

Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too

I'd love to see me from your point of view

I wanna trust me, ooh

The way that you trust me, baby

'Cause nobody ever loved me like you do

I'd love to see me from your point of view

As he plays his last few notes, your arms gently wrap around his bicep and your chin rests on his shoulder before you peck the corner of his mouth. His lips twitch into that adorable smile you love so much after mouthing “I love you” and all those around cheer with claps and whistles.

“You did amazing honey,” he whispers cupping your cheek with his warm hand.

“Thank you, and you too Mozart.”

“Nope, we’re not making that a thing. We both know I literally could never,” he replies making you both laugh before being startled by Gina’s squeals.

“Girl you won best new artist!”

“Wait what?”

“You won! They just told me so you can go ahead and make your acceptance speech! They’ll play it when the category comes up.”

You have to be nudged by a chuckling Chris being in such a state of shock. Oh course you hoped and wished you’d win, but you didn’t expect it to actually happen. Returning to your barstool, you try to collect yourself as the signal is given that the camera was rolling.

“Wow, um hi everybody! I honestly didn’t think this would happen,” you nervously laugh. “Um first off thank you mom and dad for your support even though I was probably really annoying singing all over the house all hours of the day. Thank you to the fans, of course, for your support as well from streaming to buying my music and all the other ways you guys have been so amazing to me. I may not be able to respond to every single post, tweet, or DM but I see you guys and from the bottom of my heart I truly thank every single one of you. My friends and my team, I love y’all so much and appreciate all that you guys do to help and keep me sane.”

“And to the one who inspired the song that helped me get this award,” you sigh peering past the camera to see a glossy eyed Chris leaning against the wall. “Thank you for being exactly what I need when I need it, whether it’s a cuddle buddy, a partner in crime for late night food runs, or a friend to remind me to love myself when I’m doing the opposite. I love you and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Rotating the silver band on your ring finger, you hold up your hand with a shy smile to reveal a sparkling princess cut diamond making everyone around beam with excitement, and surely those who would be watching at home.

Taglist: @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @lady-olive-oil @themyscxiras @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @maxcullen @literaturefeen @damnitaa @curlyhairclub @plokyu23 @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jojolu @jnk-812 @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @scoop93535 @secretmysteriousperson

If anybody wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged but don’t see your name, only want to be tagged for certain people I write for, or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know🤓!

[spikeface]

(consider this more of a writing prompt than a request) I tried to read Theo Raeken's fandom wiki but couldn't get a sense of him. Can you sell him qua OC? Who is he? What does he want? What does he fear? What are the worst things he's done and what internal logic did that run on? In what ways has he been heroic, even if it may have been unrecognizable to others as such? (Concretely I'm hoping to read any answer and launch into reading fic about him)

This is still a sketch. Canon leaves a lot of lacunae around Theo, so I play with them, but this is one version:

Theo’s childhood leaves him a twisted shell of a person. He’s pushed by the evil scientists who kidnap him and make him their servant (for convoluted plot reasons) to commit horrible acts, beginning with the death of his sister when he’s ten years old. His exact involvement in her death is not clear from the canon. He stands over her, very still, and watches her die, but it’s not clear if he coldly killed her or was simply a drugged victim of the scientists, who mess with people’s perception of reality. My headcanon, based on other canon references, is that the scientists, who are obsessed with creating “the perfect evil,” also push him to kill his parents and eat human flesh, and do lots of other awful things that he pretends don’t haunt him so he doesn’t go mad. Theo is very good at pretending, and learns to stifle his feelings to the point that he can really only be honest about them when he’s actively lying about something else. When he lies to the sheriff about witnessing a murder, for instance, he indirectly acts out his grief over the death of his sister as he chokes out, “I didn’t know what to do, so I didn’t do anything.”

After eight years with the evil scientists, he’s a wicked little gremlin. He’s a practiced liar and manipulator, whose speciality is to push people to embrace their darkest urges. When we meet him, he’s trying to turn Scott’s pack as dark as he is, to retroactively justify his own acts to himself, and to make it more certain that the pack will accept him for who he truly is. Theo wants very, very badly to be accepted. Part of it is personal, after a lonely life of being the scientists’ Igor, filled with self-loathing for the things he’s done. Part of it is also pragmatic; as the scientists grow closer to success (resurrecting an evil monster, don’t ask) they have less and less use for him. The scientists kill things they have no use for--failures. Theo isn’t a failure, but he’s not quite a success either, in the scientists’ eyes. Theo is petrified of failure, and the scientists. He wants the safety a powerful pack will provide. The stark difference in power between him and the scientists has led him to equate power and safety.

He works on corrupting all of Scott’s pack members, but focuses his efforts on Malia, Stiles, and Liam. He pushes Malia to try to kill her mother. If she does, no one could judge him for killing his own parents. He pushes Stiles to destroy his friendship with Scott. Stiles looks out for Scott the same way Theo’s sister looked out for him—if he’s actually terrible, deep down, then maybe his sister was too. Then no one could judge him for watching her die. With Liam, his goal is more cathartic. He wants Liam to lash out furiously at Scott for refusing to bite someone, especially when refusing means someone’s death.

Though Theo can pass for a werewolf, he’s actually a weak mockery of one, the result of the scientists’ surgeries rather than being bitten. It’s why his sister needed to die, her heart a necessary organ transplant before the scientists could begin their surgeries (show logic, don’t ask). Theo hates them for it, though he’s suppressed that emotion as a survival tactic while living under their cruel thumb. He tells himself he’s embraced their philosophy of experiments with the supernatural, but deep down is the plaintive question he had as a small, confused child: why didn’t they just make him a real werewolf? He would have been stronger, faster, better in every way than this half-thing they made him. He could have just been bitten, instead of all that surgery.

They wouldn’t have had to kill his sister, if they’d just made him a real werewolf.

Scott is the only one whom Theo can’t corrupt. He’s everything Theo isn’t: powerful, honest, accepted, not only a real werewolf but a special one. Unlike every other Alpha in existence—and Theo—he got his werewolf powers without anyone needing to die for it. Theo is obsessed with him. He needs to destroy him. He does.

Scott uses his dying breath to tell Theo that his pack will never accept him. Infuriatingly, he’s right.

He also comes back from the dead, which complicates Theo’s plans even further.

Theo makes his own pack of people he brings back from the dead. They’re all experiments the scientists no longer had any use for, which Theo hates as a potential reflection of himself, but they seem easy to control. He tries to make them embrace their darkest urges. He’s not quite successful. It doesn’t help that, in a bid for more power, Theo captures an Alpha named Deucalion, who is working to sabotage Theo as a favor to Scott. Deucalion drives some of Theo’s pack away, and shows Theo how to consume others for power. Faced with the choice between a pack and power, Theo chooses power. In the end, he consumes even Tracy, the one person who does actually accept Theo, for who he truly is, lovingly and unconditionally.

Theo is now very powerful. He’s also completely alone, having broken even with the scientists. He’s wretched. He hates Scott more than ever. He tries to kill him and his pack again—and finds himself promptly sent to a hellscape by one of Scott’s pack, where he wakes up to find his sister waiting for him, ready to rip his heart out, again and again and again.

Things get interesting when Liam brings him back from hell, hoping some of the powers he consumed will help them with their current crisis. Over the course of months in hell, however, Theo’s extra powers have been stripped away, along with his smug artifice and his will to live. When Malia starts to beat him to death in a fit of rage, he simply lets her, the same way he eventually simply let his sister take his heart over and over. He recovers from his hell-induced despair enough to try to manipulate and negotiate and generally gremlin his way to safety, but it’s clear he has no idea what to do beyond that. As the one who brought him back from hell, Liam feels responsible for him, which to him means making sure Theo isn’t a threat, bullying him into being helpful, hitting him when he’s being annoying, and offering genuine friendship to Theo if he does actually help. Theo alternates between coldly telling Liam that he’ll leave him for dead the first chance he gets, and almost compulsively saving Liam’s life. He also hits Liam, when he thinks he can get away with it. He’s never had a friend before.

After that crisis is over, Theo languishes. For the first time in his life, no one is telling him what to do. There’s nothing to prompt him to try to find power or a pack, or anything else he once failed at completely. He’s also homeless. And alone. When something creepy and supernatural happens to him in the middle of the night, the only person he can think to call is Scott—but he doesn’t, held back by shame. He remains, in my humble opinion, quite obsessed with Scott. I’m tipping my shipper hand here, but I think what was once the desire to destroy Scott has become the desire to have… something else from him. Not just forgiveness. Theo’s not sure what. It’s been a long time since he was honest with himself about what he feels. He’s working on it.

He chooses to stay in Beacon Hills. Mostly, he continues to lie and push, but he does it to help the pack--particularly Liam, who needs a lot of help with the same anger Theo once exploited. His most redemptive moment is when he chooses to ease a dying enemy’s pain, one of his first completely unselfish acts of kindness. The show ends with him as an “ally.”

[greekowl87]

From the kiss prompts #19: Kisses meant to distract the other person from whatever they were intently doing.

A/N: I am so, so sorry it took so super duper long to answer this prompt. Post ep “The Sixth Extinction II: Amor Fati” with a blooming MSR taking the relationship to the next level. Also, pure fluff. @today-in-fic @improlificinsarcasm @baronessblixen @suitablyaggrieved

P.S. Sorry for the typos; no beta.

In the dim light coming from his bathroom, Scully sat on the edge of Mulder’s bed and watched him sleep. His eyes darted beneath closed eyes, dreaming. She gently touched his brow, feeling the scratchy gauze beneath her fingertips. His lips moved wordlessly and his face frowned as if in a nightmare. She could see Mulder’s lips forming her name, calling out to her silently over and over again.

Over the past few weeks, she had mastered changing the bandage around without waking him, but this time, she simply removed it as he quietly called out for her. His surgical scars had held enough without any long term damage. She continued to watch him. His hands flexed as if trying to grasp for something. She took his hand and kissed his cheek. He relaxed slightly, almost sensing her presence.

“Scully,” he called.

“I’m here,” she murmured, “open your eyes.”

Mulder did as she requested. His eyes squinted at the intrusion of the bathroom light. The light haloed around her, making his partner look like an angel. “Did I die and go to heaven?”

“Depends on your definition of heaven,” she whispered softly, “but you won’t die. Or didn’t. That much I’m sure of. Sit up for me so we can get that bandage off.”

He sat up on his forearms and she shook her head again, helping him sit all the way up and rest against his headboard. “What time is it?”

“Shortly after seven a.m. It is Saturday. The weather is going to be rainy all day so I figured what better excuse than to come by to check on my favorite patient.”

He winced slightly as she unfurled the bandage with practiced ease. “Did you bring food?”

“I thought I would cook for you this morning or we could do it together,” she said. “It’ll be fun.”

This thing was new between them. After she had rescued him from the bowels of some unknown DOD building after botched brain surgery. She came by daily, often spending the weekends with him, while he healed. “Know what would be fun?” He murmured, squinting his eyes. “Not having to wear that bandage today.”

She snorted and gently inspected his head. “I think we could do that today.”

“Good. Am I allowed to shower by myself too, Dr. Scully?”

“As long as you don’t fall. Do you think you can do that, Agent Mulder?”

He chuckled and nodded. Deciding to catch her off guard, he cupped her cheek gently and gave her a morning kiss. “Good morning.”

She snorted in amusement. “Stop distracting me and go take your shower.”

Mulder smiled. Aside from his most recent near-death experience, this new thing between him and Scully was his most favorite thing. She disappeared from his bedroom and he felt his cheeks warm. Mulder got out of bed to take a quick shower and change into something a bit more casual.

Scully disappeared back out to his apartment. She could hear the shower turning on and could swear she could also hear him ‘Walking on Sunshine’ off-key. She bit her lip and smiled to herself. Despite her initial confusion on where to turn, she recalled Mulder’s words…his touchstone, his constant…and for the first time in their seven years, she had never been happier. Granted his situation warranted that they stay slow with their new development, but it wouldn’t be their thing if it didn’t go slow.

Before Scully had come there this morning, she had stopped at the grocery store to pick up a few things including a half dozen eggs, frozen hash browns, and orange juice. As his shower continued, she hunted through his cabinets for his coffee but instead settled on the tea caddy he kept just for her. She found his small steel kettle, filled it, and put it on the back of a small burner. As that heated, she rummaged through the cabinets and found what she needed: a skillet and bowl for the eggs. She was so focused on her task that she failed to notice Mulder come up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, and kissing her softly.

Scully didn’t jump at the new intrusion but leaned back against him. “You’re distracting me again,” she murmured.

“It doesn’t look like you complaining,” he said. His hands rested on the curves of her hips. “What’s up, Doc?”

She smiled and shook her head. “Tea to start with.”

“Couldn’t find the coffee?”

He was already inspecting the kettle, placing his hand on the side of it. “It’s not hot yet! If you want something to do, Mulder, then crack these eggs!” She playfully swatted him away. “I was just about to start the hash browns.”

“Peppers and onions?”

“You know it.” He hummed in approval and Scully took this moment to break away, giggling as she did. “Make yourself useful, Mulder.”

He opened his antiqued fridge and dropped a pack of bacon and cheese onto the counter. “Good for you,” she smiled sarcastically. “You provided food! Do you want bacon in your eggs.”

“On the side.”

“Make yourself useful, Mulder,” she chided him. “Either cook the hash browns or crack the eggs.”

“Bossy,” he replied in a sing-song voice. “Remind me to tell you never to practice medicine.”

She heard him take the plastic bowl from her and she chose that moment to inspect his head. The haphazard haircut the Syndicate gave him made his hair stick out at all ends. Personally, she liked the spiky hair being a new constant. He hissed in surprise as she cupped his face, her fingertips tracing the new scars. “I don’t want you to bandage your head for the next 48 hours,” she told him.

“Do I meet inspection, Dr. Scully?” He bent forward and kissed her again. “Well?”

She burst into a fit of laughter. “Mulder! Stop distracting me!”

“I’m not distracting you!”

“I beg to differ.” She hummed, satisfied with his progress. “Anyways, get those eggs cracking.”

He moved his mouth, soundless mocking her. “I’m fine,” he promised. “No need to worry.”

“Are you sure? Do you want something to drink?”

“Stop being a mother hen,” he admonished her. He reached under the sink and pulled out his trash can. “I can crack a few eggs. And no, I’m fine. I think there is some orange juice your mom brought me.”

“When was my mother here?”

“On Tuesday while you were at the office. I told her she didn’t have to but she’s a lot like you in that respect.”

Scully laughed as she took out a bag of frozen potatoes from a grocery bag and dumped them into a skillet with butter. Mulder paused his egg breaking, wiped his hands on his jeans, and sneaked up behind her. His arms went around her waist, and taking advantage of their height difference, rested his chin on top of her head. Scully rolled her eyes and continued to prepare the frozen potatoes with Mulder still attached to her. “Not working, Mulder. And don’t annoy your doctor.”

His musical laughter echoed in his small brick kitchen and he kissed the top of her head, whispering, “I can’t wait till I get my doctor’s a-okay for extracurricular activities.”

“We’ve done…stuff.”

“Oral actives do not count. I am going to have my way with you…”

Some of the potatoes flipped out the skillet. “Mulder! Stop distracting me!”

“Not sorry. What else did you bring?”

“Bacon. But go through your fridge and get me what you want for the eggs.”

“Omelets?”

“Scrambled surprise. I may be skilled with my hands but omelet flipping is beyond my talents.”

“If you want omelets, I can do it,” he supplied. “You can cook the bacon. I’m still surprised you got it by the way.”

“I thought I would treat my patient.” Mulder chuckled and kissed the crook of her neck. “Is has these seven years have done to us? You can’t stop kissing me?”

“I love you too much, Scully. Besides, my goal is also to be distracting.”

“Well, you’re succeeding in your goal.”

Mulder went to his aged fridge and produced a bell pepper, onion, and spinach (which Scully raised her trademark eyebrow for). He chopped the rest of the ingredients as Scully finished the potatoes and stuck them in the oven to keep the bowl warm. She moved over to the next burner as he put two new skillets on there. She took the larger of the two and deftly started cooking the bacon while Mulder began their omelets. As they stood side by side cooking breakfast, he bumped his hip against hers. “Seems familiar, doesn’t it?”

“Like what?”

“We’re going over evidence…”

“For breakfast. Nice try, Romeo. Get cooking.”

He shook his head as they both began the bacon and the omelets. Twenty minutes later and one minor burn, they had two plates of fried potatoes, omelets, and bacon. They sat on his worn leather couch with their plates on the coffee table. She arched her eyebrow at him and asked, “Why can’t we use your dining room table?”

“It’s for stuff. Besides, don’t you feel more comfortable this way?” He waggled his eyebrows. “We can put on a movie.”

“I get to pick.”

Scully selected a classic, Alien. They wandered their way through breakfast, the plates were pushed and stacked to the edge of the coffee table, and Scully found herself lounging against Mulder as Ripley began to kick ass. He kissed her brow as she pulled down the Aztec blanket. “You know, I have this fantasy as you as Ripley,” he whispered. 

“I don’t get along with cats,” she whispered back.

“I know.” He wrapped his arm securely around her. His mind flashed back over the past few weeks. He knew she loved him and he was certain she loved him. Somehow, watching old sci-fi movies over breakfast with distracting kisses was becoming more appealing than chasing aliens. He just had to show her.

[dalgikiss]

Urban Loneliness // k. bakugou

index

part 5

The flower petals don’t stop coming but that’s all they stay as- stray petals that fall out of your mouth here and there when you’re least expecting it. You’ve gotten quite good at hiding away your cough, hands always flying up to your mouth just in time to catch the flower petals. You’ve begun to collect them in the jar Recovery Girl had given you.

You think they would be a lot prettier if they didn’t come from the inside of your body.

Sometimes though, you’re unlucky or maybe it’s just your reaction time has gotten dull but when you cough, someone sees a stray petal fly out. You tell them it’s a party trick, one you’ve been working on in hopes of surprising them. You’re extremely grateful that it’s only Mineta that’s seen it happen because all it takes is you smiling sweetly and blowing a small kiss towards him and he’s putty in your hands.

You’re still left to wonder who it is that has your heart even though you have an inkling of who it might be. The petals are never consistent, only coming when you’re amongst giant groups of people- class, the common room, sparring practices- you name it, it happened.

(You’re a little oblivious for not noticing it’s when Bakugou and Sayaka are around you, but that’s another story)

It’s not until one day you’re laughing one of those wheezing, clapping, tears-coming-out-of-your-eyes kind of laughs at Uraraka’s successful prank on Kaminari (with your help of course) do you find out who it is that you have a crush on.

Kaminari’s face is full of shaving cream shaped to give him a mustache and eyebrows that rival Endeavor’s and his hair has been dyed a pretty pink while he hung midair, flailing his arms around desperately for balance. Uraraka is laughing with you and both of your laughter only grows louder as more people walk into the common room.

Momo’s arms are hanging on to you for balance as she clutches her stomach. The room is full of warm laughter instead of tired groans from practice. Your heart is warm and you tell yourself you want to capture this moment forever.

Even Bakugou lets out a loud guffaw at the sight of Kaminari floating in the air. Your grin only widens when you hear it because it normally takes something short of a miracle to make him laugh. You turn to say something to him but all words die in your throat at the sight in front of you. Bakugou’s arm is wrapped tightly around Sayaka, her head resting against his broad shoulders. Your stomach turns uncomfortably but you push away the saliva that’s beginning to pool in your mouth.

“Bakugou! You got a girlfriend now?” You tease, successfully getting everyone’s attention. Uraraka’s concentration is broken and Kaminari falls onto the floor with a soft ‘thud’ and an indigent ‘ow!” from his mouth.

You’re waiting for Bakugou’s response, your stomach ache beginning to become harder to ignore.

Pleasesaynopleasesaynopleasesaynople-

“Damn straight I got a girlfriend. Got the best one there is too, you fuckers better stay away from her or I’ll blast your ass onto the other side of the planet” His eyes avoid yours.

You want to vomit.

You utter out a strangled ‘congratulations’, the word tasting bitter in your mouth. Everyone is crowding in on the new couple and you take the commotion as a distraction to run to the bathroom.

The common room’s bathroom is cold and the tiles dig harshly into your knee as you retch up flower petals into the toilet basin, fingers gripping the porcelain. You take a deep breath in an attempt to calm down but it does more harm than good and you end up gagging even more. You don’t remember the last time it’s been this bad and you’re biting back tears. After a particular hard gag -you’re realizing how disgusting you sound- something larger than the normal size of a petal falls out of your mouth.

Blinking away your tears, your blood runs cold at the sight of a full pink anemone floating on the surface of the water but your heart stops at the voice behind you.

“What the fuck?”

shitshitshitshit

You freeze at the sound of Mina cursing. Maybe there’s a way you can play this off. You turn around extremely slowly, wiping the blood away from the corner of your mouth. “Hey Mina, the bathroom’s a bit occupied right now” You laugh awkwardly. She walks towards you softly and peers into the toilet bowl, her face contorting into one of pity and worry at the sight.

“So” She begins and you nod.

“So”

“Are you throwing up flowers?”

You can’t bring yourself to look at her even when she moves to sit down next to you on the bathroom floor. Her hands are soft when she places them on your cheeks, wiping away the tears that are beginning to fall from your eyes. She whispers sweet nothings as she pulls you towards her, stroking your hair as you muffle your sobs against your palm. Your tears are too hot and they burn your face but Mina lets you cry on her shoulder even though you’re sure she just washed her uniform.

You don’t know how long you’ve cried for -15 minutes, an hour- but when you’re done, you’re sure you look like a mess and your head is spinning from the lack of air you’ve been getting. You honestly don’t know why you’re crying. Maybe it’s because you’re basically facing an unavoidable death, maybe it’s because someone has finally seen you throwing up flowers and it’s a relief to not have to hide it anymore or maybe it’s because you’re finally realizing you like someone who has a girlfriend.

Mina’s still waiting patiently for you to gather yourself, hands rubbing your back in an attempt to comfort you and it is only when you finally meet her eyes, she speaks again. “You’re throwing up flowers?”

You nod miserably, looking at the flower petals which have begun to sink to the bottom of the toilet, specks of blood decorating each one. You’re not sure how to start but you figure anything that comes out of your mouth is better than saying nothing. “I have something called the Hanahaki disease”

Her mouth repeats the name after you, testing out the syllables on her tongue.

“Basically, I’m going to keep throwing up flowers because the person I like doesn’t like me back and it’s going to continue until I die unless I get a stupid surgery that gets rid of my ability to love but what kind of shitty options are those?” You give her a watery smile when her eyes widen at the notion of death. “And I’ve just realized I like Bakugou but he has a girlfriend and normally it’s just been a few petals so I guess it wasn’t that serious but now there’s an actual flower in the fucking toilet bowl and I’m freaking out, i am so fucking sca-”

You never get to finish your spiel because Mina’s pulling you into another hug and you feel your shoulder beginning to dampen. It’s your turn to comfort her now, arms wrapped around her while she clutches the back of your shirt in her fists. “You’re NOT going to die” Her voice is muffled against your shoulder but you hear her loud and clear.

She pulls away to grab your shoulders and face you directly, black eyes boring into yours. “You’re not going to die, we’ll figure something out and you’re going to be okay”

You let her pull you up from the floor and flush the toilet, making a mental note to go to Recovery Girl’s office later to tell her of the progression while Mina’s busy dabbing a wet paper towel around your face to try and freshen you up.

The silence is broken when Mina looks at you with a teasing glint in her eye. “So…. Bakugou?”

You can’t help but let out an exasperated laugh, swatting her arm away from your face. “I guess so”

Just the mention of his name makes you feel like barfing once again but you hold it in as you both walk out the bathroom.

Stupid shitty Bakugou.

Hot-headed, crude and blunt Bakugou.

Passionate, focused, goal driven Bakugou.

Taken, no longer single, has a girlfriend Bakugou.

You’re really hating the way that sounds.

Mina drops you off at your dorm with another hug and the soft promise of “I’m going to help you figure something out, I promise” and the door closes behind you with a soft click.

There’s no longer anything to distract you from your thoughts as you sluggishly change out your uniform and into your sweatpants. You catch a glimpse of your flower jar and your stomach lurches at the sight.

You feel all sorts of emotions at the sight of it- anger, resentment, hurt, sadness but your body can’t stand much more of being awake and the next thing you know, you’ve fallen asleep on top of your covers.

X.

You wake up in the middle of the night, head spinning in pain. The pads of your feet softly made their way to the common room as you walked away from your room, in need of a new environment. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the light when you open the door to the room. Who could be in here at this time?

“Kirishima?”

He turns his head slowly at the mention of his name, greeting you with a small smile. “What are you doing here?” He asks, patting the space next to him, gesturing for you to sit.

“I could ask you the same thing,” You say, flopping onto the space next to him. His arms immediately go to rest loosely on your chest while you adjusted your head on his lap. “It’s like 3am, can’t sleep?”

“Yeah, something like that” Kirishima smiled softly -he was not about to tell you he watched a horror movie in his room and got too scared to sleep- his hands moving to gently rub small circles into your temple. Your eyes closed in bliss as he did so. “What about you?”

“Can’t sleep” you mumbled, “Are your fingers like magic or something?” He laughs at this, body vibrating against your head.

“Why?” He teases, hands smoothing over your eyebrows, “Gonna fall asleep on me?”

You’re already half asleep in his lap, nodding slowly at his question. “You should sleep too” you tell him, words slurred in your sleepy state. Kirishima’s fingers trail down towards your throat cautiously, waiting for you to jerk awake and smack him away but you don’t. You let him trace each scratch your long nails had left in your wake, each welt and raw skin. His fingers feel surprisingly nice against them.

You’re not quite sure if you’re asleep or not but you do hear Kirishima’s soft voice somewhere in the murky gray of your head. “What happened to you?” he whispers, fingers finally stilling. You open your eyes slightly, pushing his arm with your shoulder so he would continue. “It’s nothing,” you tell him, “just a cough that never seems to go away”

“There was blood on the bathroom floor when I went in after you. Are you sick?”

You tense at his words, the movement not going unnoticed to him and he stops but you relax just as fast as you stiffen. “Something like that”

“Tell me what’s going on” Kirishima all but demands. When you ignore him, he pokes your forehead hard. “Ow! Kirishima, that hurts!”

“Tell me what’s going on or I'll poke your forehead again” He warns and your hands fly up to shield your face.

“Alright, alright!” You smack his arm in retaliation. “I’ll tell you!” He grins triumphantly at this and goes back to massaging your head. “I have the Hanahaki disease” you tell him, closing your eyes so you don’t have to look at his expression.

“It’s a disease where I throw up flowers as a result of unrequited love or some shit like that. The only way for it to go away is if the person likes me back or if I get some kind of surgery to get rid of the flowers but then I lose my ability to love. What a shitty way to go” You bitterly laugh.

“Oh and if I don’t make a choice soon, i’ll die” You add in nonchalantly

Kirishima digs his finger a little harder into your scalp at the casual mention of your impending death and you whimper. “Ow! Not so hard”

“Don’t talk about dying like that”

“Sorry” You whisper, hands reaching up to take his larger one into yours. His palm is rough with calluses, a sharp contrast to your soft ones but you pay no attention to it. “Mina knows too” You mention, “She walked in on me throwing up flowers”

“So, who do you like?” Kirishima asks.

“That’s all you’re going to ask me after I tell you I’m dying because I can cough up flowers?”  

“I think finding out who you like is a much more pressing matter”

“You’re impossible”

“And you’re avoiding the question”

You sigh in response, using his hand to cover your eyes. ‘Bakugou”

“You like mmmrgghh-” Kirishima’s sentence gets cut off when you reach up to cover his face.

“Shut up!” you hiss, getting up slightly to make sure nobody was walking in, “you’re too loud!”

His red eyes can only stare down at you in shock when you drop back down onto his lap, removing your hand on his mouth.

“Don’t ask me for any details, I don’t even know myself” you warn him, “I’ll shove my foot into your mouth if you say anything”

He laughs at your threat. “Okay, fine. Is there anything I can do?” His lighthearted tone drops to something more serious, concerned about your wellbeing but you can only shake your head. The sun is beginning to peek through the curtains and if you squint, you can see the electronic clock flash 5:24am.

“I just want to sleep” You whisper, eyelids drooping. You tug softly on his collar, shifting so he could lay with you on the couch. “Come lie down with me”

He does as you ask, his body is warm and keeps the cold away. He’s splayed out underneath you and it’s only when you throw something at the light switch and successfully turn it off does Kirishima realize just how tired he is.

“Good night Kiri” You mumble against him. The fingers that were clutching onto his shirt loosened as you drifted off to sleep.

The sound of your even breathing is the only sound left in the room. “Good night” He whispers into the still air, falling fast asleep soon after and that’s how Bakugou finds the two of you when he walks in a few hours later- fast asleep on the couch together.

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

15. I Trust Him With My Life

The smell of flowers stirred her up. Flowers, coffee… and… books? She must have been dreaming, as those were a few of her favorite things. Her eyelids fluttered and she opened her eyes to see a few fuzzy images - Sunny and Simon in her hospital room, both with a book in front of them, but neither reading. Instead, they had been bickering softly and now, they were watching her, but neither of them moved.

See, Grace had done this several times in the days following her surgery - fluttered her eyes, even opened them, only to lose consciousness again a few moments later and well, after a while, they stopped rushing to her bed. But, this time, the eyes were focusing on them and didn’t appear to be closing. “It’s happening,” Sunny said, shutting her book and getting up. Simon waited, though.

Grace took a deep, pained breath and looked at her hand. His note was still there. For a moment, she smiled a little, and then she remembered all over again that she had been shot. She gasped and reached for her wound, then winced in pain when she moved.

Simon shut his book now, too and set it aside and rushed to help Sunny adjust the pillows beneath Grace’s body. He grabbed a thermos and told her, “Doctor said that you could have a little coffee, so I picked up your favorite kind from the bookstore, some books from your yearly goal list… And flowers from your florist. Everybody was really helpful and sent their love and their get well things.”

She turned around to look and noticed the warm colored vibrant assortment of flowers. “Thank. Goodness. You didn’t get red poppies again.”

Sunny tilted her head and looked at Simon, “You got red poppies? Why on earth did you get red poppies?”

“I saw her with them before, so I thought that she liked them.”

Sunny winced. Saw her. She knew exactly what that meant. Whenever he was stalking her and either was too insecure or she didn't strike him as interested enough, he spied on her and misunderstood something that they used to mourn.

'Flower Boy' Heath used to steal them from stores and gardens whenever they lost somebody on the streets. He'd seen them at his father's funeral when he was little, and told his mom that they were super pretty. Why was she crying so much when so many people were at his Daddy's Going Home Celebration, and who could cry while such pretty flowers were everywhere? “That only had made her cry harder,” Heath would tell whoever was asking about why he stole flowers for dead friends. "I didn't get it. Death isn't pretty. It's cold, sad, and lonely. That’s why she was crying. But my dad embraced his death whenever he signed up for the military, and I like to think he met it with a brave heart and courageous mind. I'd like to think that we all will meet it that way. I don't like to cry about it. Instead, pay respects." And, he sort of… kept that tradition up over the years and spread it to his friends.

Whenever they went to pay their respects, they did so with red poppies, in memory of their friends. Most of them didn't even like to see red poppies any other time, because they were flowers they had associated with deceased friends for many years.

Sunny shuddered at what Grace must have felt when this boy handed her some of those damn flowers… “You’ve… researched them since then though, right?" She wondered.

“I have.” He leaned next to Grace on the bed and offered her a little smile, “I hope I've done well this time.”

But, she wasn’t looking at the red, orange and gold arrangement as she cooed, “You were amazing.” He blushed. Sunny rolled her eyes off to the side, out of both their view.

Simon rubbed the back of his neck and smiled, “I did what anybody who cared about you would do.”

“Who’d have thought that I, of all people would need a white knight?”

He scoffed, “That’s not what happened at all. You’re a warrior queen, who just so happened to need a general in that moment, when your… Court fled . May I just say this? I really think that you should reconsider the policy of leaving each other to die in the event of a life threatening injury.”

“Simon…”

“Grace…”

“One fallen soldier can’t compromise the entire troop.”

“You’re not some fallen soldier, Grace.” He looked very serious for a moment, as his fingertips seemed to ache to touch her, but he denied himself that.

They had a lot to go over before he could touch her again. There had been some betrayal, invasion of privacy, abandonment, and general toxicity between them. Sure, he saved her life. He loved her, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that wasn’t just going to fix everything that had occurred between the two of them.

Even if just this once, his obsession worked out in her favor; she had been upset by initially finding out the extent to which he had been following and watching her and he had not come through with a justification for this. Nor could he think of one, and as much as she wanted to trust him again and to love him openly, he knew that would always be in her mind. But, she was not "one fallen soldier."

“When we’re out there, yes I am.” She seemed to think that was the end of it.

He fumed, “I refuse to accept that.”

She frowned and looked down at her body, “Hardly matters now. I won’t soon be back in the field.”

“You deserve a break,” Sunny chimed in. Grace and Simon both looked at her, like they had only just remembered that she was still there.

“The fact that the X gets a proper sending off instead of a sentence in the Field of Nulls makes me want to break something…”

“Everyone needs a break,” Simon said, turning his attention back to Grace. “That detective definitely is suspicious of us. I think that they’ll be watching, waiting, and pounce on anything we do.”

“We?” Sunny said, and scoffed a little, before looking at Grace with a confused expression.

“We.” Grace and Simon both said it at the same time, then smiled slightly at each other. Grace turned to Sunny and said, “I know that we don’t usually allow outsiders with us, but considering the circumstances - how Simon has helped us over the past few months and him literally saving my life, I think that as the leader, it’s my responsibility to make sure that he’s taken care of, just like the rest of us.”

“You trust this O as an ally?”

Grace voice was stern. “His name is Simon, and I trust him with my life.” Grace reached for Simon's hand and his entire countenance shined as their fingers met, testing each other's tips before sliding into place, woven together. Sunny stared at their hands and quickly went through a range of expressions as she tried to access what the appropriate reaction was to this. Uncertain, she forced a smile and bid them farewell. She had no idea how she might present this change to the group, but she at least knew that she would have to speak to Xander, immediately.

.

Grace had bigger changes on the horizon. For one, Her parents put her up in their guest house for her recovery, with a nurse on hand, and Simon was the only person who visited her every day. She forbade everyone to come to the guest house while she was in this state, but as per use, Simon didn’t respect that request, and she wasn’t going to tell her parents about their… questionable beginnings, so she decided that it was easier to just let him come around whenever he pleased, as she wasn’t in any condition to fight with him. She wasn’t even in condition to walk. She would do the minimum recommended to keep her from getting blood clots, and the rest of the time, she spent in a chair. Simon was there every moment that he could be and became her only real contact for the moment.

Grace tried to be flippant with him, to ignore him at times and even snap on him to get him to back off and leave her, but it didn’t prove to be working and she only felt bad later, when she realized that she was hurting him for nothing. Simon wasn’t about to turn his back on her. She would have to break some type of key rule for that to happen, and why did she want him to leave so badly, anyway? Why was she so committed to pushing everyone away and withering in this place with a hole in her body?

What was making her feel so alone and detached? What was making her accept that feeling and embrace it? She had nightmares every night, but now, she would wake up in a frenzy AND in physical pain. Simon would wake up too, do everything in his power to help her calm down and get some more sleep, to help her address her wound and get some pain relief… to help her feel cared for, and safe, and not alone… It didn’t feel fair to her. It felt… like she had taken a lot from this person and was still taking from him. The worst part was that she felt like she needed to take more. She couldn’t do this alone.

Whenever Simon woke up in the morning, Grace wasn’t in bed. He furrowed his eyebrows, looked at the openness of the windows of the guesthouse bedroom, and noticed that her chair was gone.

Whenever he found her, she was in her meditation garden, sitting with her feet in the dirt and Samantha and Hazel were both with her, eating the kinds of grasses they liked. She had been mindful to make sure there was stuff that they could eat there and added more that she felt that they might want to try. Simon was going to leave, but she sensed him coming and turned suddenly, of course, hurting herself as she did. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you…” He looked around, “Where is your chair?”

“THE chair,” she corrected (not her chair, she hated that thing), “Is in the lake.” Simon looked towards the lake that her parents’ estate was near. It was close enough for him to walk, but it was further than Grace tended to walk in her condition. Still… if she was frustrated and determined enough… maybe. He went to check. It was… near the lake, but not in it. He went to retrieve it and realized it was stuck on some rocks. Just as well. Sure, Grace’s parents could afford replacing anything, but replacing something that was perfectly fine felt wrong. Especially because she needed it all the time.

The last time Grace tried to walk further than usual, she became lightheaded, lost her balance, tripped, fell, vomited and angry cried that she had such a bad reaction to pushing herself beyond reasonable limits. Then, she was upset and didn’t want him to help her, but had to let him because she just… couldn’t. She locked him out of the guest house. He camped out on the veranda and worked on a new story.

After three days, she unlocked the door and when he came in to check on her, she told him he smelled bad and needed a shower. After the shower, she began talking about art and wouldn’t let him get a word in to ask her about her feelings. Since then, Simon noted that she didn’t let him see her out of the chair and he presumed that she was too worried about another situation where she would look weak or get sick - so the fact that she had both rolled her wheelchair down this hill and went elsewhere was hard to believe and a little bit troubling. She was clearly having one of the episodes that had come along with her injury. They were exhausting, but Simon at least felt needed whenever she had them. The more that she insisted that she didn’t need him was usually the more that she did.

He dragged the wheel back to the garden, wondering if maybe it had gotten stuck and she didn’t have the strength to pull it up, therefore presumed it rolled into the lake, or if she was so disgusted with it today and that tried to send it splashing into the lake and it got stuck instead. At any rate, she looked like she didn’t want to talk about it and she was at peace for the moment, so he just put it where it usually sat when she was in this little garden. He noticed some damages that were probably brought on by her beating the thing with a weapon, as she was known (by anybody who watched her obsessively) to do. He figured he could fix it. In the meantime, she had a stick that she was calling a cane and she was using that to help her around.

“Good news! It didn’t go into the lake.”

“Yayyy…” She said sarcastically and scooped up Hazel. She grabbed her “cane” and began to walk back towards the guest house. Samantha followed behind her and Simon came in with the chair. Just that walk made Grace tired and she set Hazel down on the floor and went to wash up and check her wound. When it came time that she needed help, she cried as quietly as she could, and heard Simon knock softly. Of course he was right outside waiting for her to need him.

“Come in,” she said and they didn’t talk about what went wrong or the fact that she absolutely was doing too much and that was why she needed help getting out of the bath and into her clothes right now. They just… went with it. The first couple of times had been a little awkward, but Simon was very mission oriented and rarely made her feel the way that he knew that she felt.

She was trying to get comfortable, but there weren’t many options on that front. Having actively avoided guns for years, she had never known the extent of the damage that they could do. She’d seen gun violence, but it had been shoot to kill situations and as far as she knew, those who survived, she never talked to about these things OTHER THAN the burning hole in the flesh. The tissue, muscle, and bone damage one little bullet could cause when ejected from such a dangerous little contraption. She had been terrified of them after Todd’s execution. The PTSD of seeing that flooded over her after Heath’s. But THIS, she figured that even if her body ever went back to some semblance of normal, her brain never would.

Why couldn't she be as desensitized to gunshots as she was to murdering Xs? She felt like that should haunt her more, but it never had. The stewards were never real people. They were, but they weren’t. They forfeited their humanity when they dehumanized the children that they stole, bought and sold. But those children, in her mind, would always be human. Nothing that any of those Apex kids could ever do to strip them of the humanity they fought tooth and nail to reclaim after being product, and when they bled and died, it was tragedy. She didn’t want to feel sorry for herself, but the fact that the man who introduced her to such a hard reality was able to injure her felt like injustice. It was an insult added to the injuries from a universe that seemed to hate her… and her friends had turned against her, too. Those were the thoughts that she let lull her to sleep.

Whenever she had gotten into bed, he was reluctant to leave her by herself. The next day, he would move some of his things in. Fortunately, he always had a couple of weeks worth of things in his car, waiting for when he needed them here. He brought everything he had in the car in whenever she went to sleep and began to personalize the spaces that he usually occupied whenever he was over.

Grace noticed the next day, and he could have sworn he saw a little sparkle in her eyes whenever she did. She didn’t comment about it beyond, “Somebody’s getting comfy.”

.

Grace still didn’t completely feel that her Apex family could be trusted. After everything that went down behind her back while she was in Canada, she was still in the mindset that she didn’t know what any of them were thinking.

She often woke up crying, admittedly, because of the thoughts she allowed to settle in her mind before she went to sleep. It was all so, so… exhausting to face. She wanted to have something to center her thoughts, if nothing could take them away, and all that would happen was she would push them out of her reach until she was too tired to move, then they would all just trickle back down and engulf her, more powerfully than before. Hearing her cry, Simon stirred she shuffled away from him, trying to get out of bed and away from him before she woke him up too. She was nearly there when she felt his hand catch her wrist. She gasped and looked at him. He was holding her a little too tight and even in just moonlight, she could see his features, though she couldn’t tell what kind of expression he wore. “I have to go to the bathroom,” she said. He let go and turned over on his other side. That was… odd, but maybe he was just not fully conscious.

She went into the bathroom and stared into the mirror for longer than she planned. Not crying or thinking about hardships, just noting her features.

Eventually, his soft knock came on the door. She cracked it open and saw him, concerned and fully awake now. “Do you need anything?” He wondered. Meanwhile, Samantha crept through the opening and climbed on the sink, to look at herself, too. Grace collected her and handed her to Simon.

“I just wanted some time to myself.”

He looked hurt, but he said, “Okay. Want us to go home?” She bit her lip and looked off to her thoughts. She was weighing what that would mean. She would have some alone time, but she still would be restless and more than likely, Simon probably had cameras in this place, too. He wouldn’t go home. He’d probably go to the apartment and keep watch. Even if he did go home, she would presume that he was in the apartment watching her, and that would be worse than him being here.

“Do you have cameras in here?” she finally asked. She turned and stared at him, bracing herself on the sink. He froze and was holding Samantha a little too tightly. To the point that she screeched and hopped out of his grasp and rushed into hiding. Grace’s face softened and she came closer, cooing, “Hey. It’s okay. I get it. Your love language is a little bit different than what a lot of us are used to. It’s not like you spend every moment of every day in front of those cameras. But, here’s the thing, Simon…” He stared at her, being mindful of every word that she was saying, grateful that her reaction wasn’t anger… because truth be told, he really shouldn’t have brought cameras in here and he really didn’t mean to, but she was injured and she wasn’t in the best headspace. Keeping an eye on her was crucial! Sure, he had an excuse for every time he wanted to spy on her, but this was different. This really was different and he felt honored that she wasn’t going to fight him on it. “I need some real and true alone time. Not very long, but long enough for me to work some things out. So, how about this? I’ll go to your house tonight and you stay here. That way, I can get some rest in a familiar space and you can be away from your surveillance station.”

“That won’t work.” Just agree to it! “I have access to my cameras here and I have cameras in my house..” Why would you make this harder?

“If you tell me that you won’t look at them, I’ll believe you.”

Just agree to that! “I can’t tell you that. I’d be lying. If you’re in a house that size, by yourself, with this injury and your stubbornness to take the proper care of yourself, how can I not check in?” She looked angry. “I’m not going to lie to you, Grace. I mean… not on purpose… Not this way.” This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up………………………… “I can’t let you get hurt again.” He started crying and stepped back, to leave and give her some space. She found him on the stairs, getting into his shoes and sniffling.

“What makes you feel like you’ve gotta keep me from getting hurt, Simon?”

He blinked away some tears and shook his head, “The reason that I gave myself for ever resorting to cameras was because I needed to make sure that you had proper support. I told myself it was for your safety, and if I enjoyed it along the way, well, that was simply a nice reward for making sure you were protected. And… I didn’t even protect you. You were self isolating, your friends alienated you, and you were so in your own head from this X that I brought you that you weren’t thinking clearly. I should have been there with you, not lurking in the shadows, and not waiting until it got bad. I should have did the thinking. I should have plotted something out. I knew that your team was shaky and I knew that you were rusty from your hiatus. I should have done more. I’m not gonna do that again. I’m not talking myself out of what makes sense to me just to get nuggets of satisfaction and crumbs of pleasure.”

She sat next to him on the stairs and placed her hands over his, making him stop with the shoes. He looked at her and she was just looking at his feet, unable to make eye contact just yet. “I made promises too. I made promises to about a thousand kids, and in the past few years, I’ve only made good on a few dozen. I’m at a point in life where… I don’t think I will make good on all those promises. I don’t think that I can. So, I get it. I understand how stressful it can be to take up things and be expected to handle them. But, Simon…” She finally looked up at him, “You made that promise to yourself. We’re the easiest people for us to lie to. Because, if we don’t reach our goals, we know what it takes to forgive us. We aren’t constantly battling for acceptance from ourselves the way that we do for others. So, maybe you didn’t do what you intended to, what you promised yourself that you would do, but you did more than you should have, and to be honest, you might not have protected me - which is already a fool’s errand - but you fucking saved me.

When I went down, my thought was - this is it. I’m dead. I knew that they would leave, as is the procedure, and I knew that I would die there…. Then, I didn’t. Because of you. You don’t owe me anything else. You don’t owe yourself anything else. Some things are just out of our control.”

“Is that the advice that you’re giving yourself about those thousand promises you made?” She pulled him towards her by the hand and wrapped him around herself like a sweater. “Because, if it applies to me, it definitely applies to you. You never did anything to hurt those kids, and the moment that you were able, you tried to. You deserve to never have to think about it, ever again.”

“They deserve something. If not justice, vengeance, if not vengeance, closure, if not closure, compensation, but they deserve SOMETHING for the years that not only the stewards took, but the ones that I took. Why… why didn’t we just disband? Why did I think that when the stewards were gone, that meant that it was up to me to lead them?”

“Because you were a kid and the past previous years had changed you in ways that children shouldn’t have to be changed.”

“If they had gone elsewhere when the warehouse fell, instead of staying with me… Todd would never have been killed. His parents wanted him back. If I had brought him to a cop or something, he might have been able to go back to them. He would be getting ready to go to college. Jalicia would have probably been able to go to real school early enough to actually KNOW material. Alexandria would have had art teachers through school and probably went to art school, like she wanted to… Xander wouldn’t have tried so many drugs…”

“You don’t know those things. You don’t know if any of that is true.”

“Anything had to be better than living on an abandoned train with me for years and then me vanishing for a year, leaving even more of them confused. Some of them left then, found homes, or were picked up and placed. Fortunately, they got Lucy and Lindsay out pretty early. But, a lot of them just deferred to Xander, and when he was unable, they deferred to Sunny. I had to come back and tell all of these kids that I was wrong, that we had been doing things in a misinformed way and I couldn’t even be there with them to help them figure out their own paths. I failed them all, and myself, and the one thing that I agreed to do to make it right, to give them SOMETHING for everything that I got wrong for them… That’s been cut short.”

Simon wrapped his arms tightly around her. “I’ll help you. I’ll do whatever needs to be done to get this burden off of your heart…”

.

The group knew that they wouldn’t be going on any missions any time soon, but while on hiatus from hunting Xs, Simon’s ultimate goal was to make them all the best that he could make them at their responsibilities. Simon had been entrusted with touching base with each member of Grace’s “court,” so to speak, in order to help them better do the things that they were tasked to do.

The first day that he walked in, they had been texted by Grace of the when and where to meet - the bungalow, at a specified time, but they had not been briefed that Simon would be there, nor that Grace would not be. So, whenever he entered the bungalow, with a key they all stared at him for a moment, expecting maybe Grace was right behind him (as they had known that she was shacked up with him), but Simon went directly into speaking, “Okay, so tonight is gonna be short and simple. I’m sending out the training schedules and drill runs for the next month, and answering whatever pertinent questions you may have about the operation so affectionately called Date Night. I intended to have something like a syllabus prepared, but Grace has been having some trouble sleeping, making that our top priority during this portion of her recovery process…” He looked over at Jalicia, who had her hand raised. “Is that what we do? We raise hands to speak?” They all just looked at each other, except for Sunny. She was still staring at Simon and the key that he was still clutching as he spoke. There were Apex members who didn’t even have a key to this bungalow. ONLY her closest members. Her most trusted companions. Her Court, as Simon called it… Where did he fit in on that court?

Jalicia was asking questions about what type of training and drills would they be expected to learn, as she had spring semester to think about and her agenda was a little bit more full than last fall. She was treating it exactly like she was in a classroom or something, because she was confused about what was happening, and he sounded pretty certain.

Simon spoke pretty gently to her, looking over the schedule in her phone with her and pointing out where he had already gotten that information from Grace and had taken it into consideration whenever he had set the training schedules. “Mostly, I’ll need maybe a week or two for you to show me what you do and how you do it, and I am gonna take what you’ve shown me, sprinkle my… intellectuality onto it, and then help you to optimize your technique. Disposing of Xs is not a life sentence, Apex.” Xander twitched when he heard Simon say that word. “It's something that none of you seem to wish to walk away from, but it should have an expiration date, and all of you should be able to live lives outside of the shadow of these things. For the time being, I’m here to help reach that goal, but I can’t be positive of how long it'll take us, until I’ve evaluated everyone’s contributions to the operation and established an endgame.”

“That sounds like a lot of power to be given to an O, just for catching one body in Grace’s name…” Xander said.  

Simon stepped towards him and he rushed towards Simon, but Sunny stepped in front of Xander and tilted her head at him. He paused, considering whether she was taking Simon’s side or protecting him.

“He has a key to the bungalow, and it sounds to me like he also has Grace’s ear and her tongue. You’d better think real hard on whether or not you want that back, and act accordingly,” Sunny warned.

Simon smiled, “Thank you, Sunetra.”

“We’re here for Grace, Timonthy.”

“We’re sticking with that one, I guess?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Mr. La’Dont.” Xander sulked, but knew that Sunny was right. To Xander's begrudging satisfaction, Simon was more efficient in some of the areas they needed help with, and Grace had clearly sent him to represent her wishes for this meeting.

Sunny was still giving him shit, obviously, but she knew when to listen up, because Simon speaking is basically Grace speaking, now. She knew that it might take Grace a moment to let them back in after December’s antics. The best way that she might get back to good with Grace was starting to look like Simon. “At any rate,” she added on, after teasing him, “Whatever you need, you may know that Xander is Grace’s right hand and I am her left. Whatever she has you doing, I know that I’ll be backing you and I’m sure Xan will do it too.”

“I’ll hate every moment of it,” Xander admitted, forcing a smile.

“Growth can be painful,” Simon said.

Ignoring the sound of rustling as Xander advanced on him again, with Sunny and Jalicia physically intervening, Simon asked the only one who hadn’t reacted or said a single word, “Alexandria, anything that you need to express concerns about?” He turned to the quiet tattooed woman and she looked nervous to have attention on her. “We were a little bit curious about why you hadn’t come to the hospital or the guest house yet.” 'To see Grace' was implied.

“She doesn’t want to see me. The rest of them are on her nerves always trying to grovel for her, and she doesn’t want to see them, either. That’s why you’re here. When Grace wants to see me, she’ll send for me.” She folded her arms, flustered by the attention on her. She figured that Simon probably HATED her for the fake art trap, but Grace may be mad about a lot of things, but she wasn't going to let anybody punish her friends.

Nobody but her, that is - with her silence and refusal to see them. With sending him, HIM of all people to run point with them in her absence… maybe even HE had taken control of the Apex, completely. Grace flitted from thing to thing and paid or assigned others to do stuff like planning, but she usually approved every plan she believed in and none of this even sounded like her. "She knows where to find me whenever she needs me. She always knows."

"Fair enough," Simon said. He didn’t want to even be here with these people after how they had tried to set him up, but Grace loved them and the same way that she wasn’t going to allow them to hurt him; she wasn’t going to allow him to hurt them either.

But, seeing Alexandria's face and having her acting like HE did HER something was frustrating and the last thing he was going to do while assimilating them to getting used to him as virtually Grace’s second in command, was to be angry at each other, argue, or fight. "I'll see you all tomorrow."

“Whoa, that’s it?” Jalicia wondered. “How’s Grace?”

Jalicia was the one that Simon was the LEAST irritated with. He knew that she wouldn’t have left Grace of her own accord and he didn’t really believe that she had anything to do with setting him up for Xander, either. She was the only person in this room whose teeth he didn’t want to kick in for… everything that had happened. And after watching her and seeing her constant pain, the only one that still he felt bad for. “She’s recovering. She loves all of you.” He gave her a squeeze to the shoulder and Sunny noted that maybe Jalicia would be a doorway back to Grace. Simon had pretty clearly favored her tonight.

They hung back to discuss what had just taken place. The last thing that Simon heard was Xander fuss, "She's shutting us out!" Simon could not help but to smile to himself about that.

.

She was curious to know how it went and Simon gave her all of the details, sprinkled with his own disdain, accordingly. He still was angry with them for leaving her. Even though he wasn’t saying that, Grace knew.

She didn’t blame them for leaving, at all. Had they brought her to the ER, or stuck around, it might not have been as easy to get the stories straight and to get them out of trouble, the way it was for Simon. He had more privilege when it came to legal matters than anybody in that van, and with their past records and their deviations from normalcy, not to mention they weren’t financially elevated like the Monroes or even Simon… It was the smart thing for them to leave, and it was why that WAS a rule, in the first place. It was far too risky to everyone else and the entire operation if they all faced charges because one person fell behind.

But, she couldn’t shake the fact that she had felt so compelled to rush towards the X and risk it all, because she thought her time with the Apex was beginning to wane. She couldn’t help but blame it on her state of mental confusion and distraction from the mutiny of them trying to hurt Simon. Then, that reminded her that one of the main reasons she was even away for weeks, was because they had such strong opinions of how unsafe Simon was and that she had followed the advice from her friends and let go of someone who literally became a murderer to keep her safe.

That shouldn’t feel so good. She knew that, but… the people who were willing to kill for her had all been so fucked up for so long that she… well… she still felt like they were human, but like they were… humans who were set apart from ones like Simon. Simon was supposed to be part of a completely different world. Simon was supposed to be good and wholesome, but because he made some… poor choices, she had turned on him and he was the only person who cared about her without being tied to the same trauma… and… now… he was tied to it.

“I hope you aren’t thinking about me while making that face,” Simon interrupted her thoughts. She glanced at a nearby mirror and saw how wrinkled her forehead was, then took a deep breath and forced a smile. Simon wrapped his arms around her ankles and rubbed her foot, “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“I’m sorry that I’ve pulled you into… my world.”

“I pushed my way in,” he said. She pulled her feet back and held her wound. He quickly let go and worried that he might have hurt her.

“You tiptoed in, and I left the door open, hoping that you would.” She laid on her side, facing away from him. “I turned you into a stalker and a killer in less than a year’s time.”

Simon snuggled up to her and wrapped an arm around her, speaking directly into her hair, “You’ve helped me to become a hero. I protected a queen, and I slayed a dragon.”

“We aren’t in Esmoroth, Simon.”

“Damn straight, we aren’t. These monsters are real.”

“I’m no queen. I’m an angry girl that wanted revenge and I got my dumbass shot.” She sniffled, “I almost died, I can’t walk, and I don’t know if my friends still want or need me.”

“You’re justifiably angry, and I’m thankful that you didn’t die, but I would be lying if I said that I’m not a little bit happy that you…” She turned around quickly and winced, but kept her focus on his face. “Happy that you are taking a break from battle. I hate that it happened this way.” She snuggled into him and let him hold her until she fell asleep. She was too tired to respond to that yet. At least she was starting to get some sleep at night.

16. Faith in Grace

[bnha-dumpster]

Shattering: Chapter 1

Chapter 1 | NEXT

Shattering: A TodoBakuDeku x Reader fic (more TodoBaku with hints of Deku) Plot: After losing Deku and your two best friends, you didn’t think much more could be taken away from you. You’ve never been more wrong. Word count: 2k

a/n: just finished proofreading the first chapter,,,, enjoy,,,, also i forgot how angsty this fic is??? oof

“It’s not your fault, Katsuki.” It’s rare to see the blond cry, you’ve never seen him truly cry, not like right now. You hold onto his hand tightly. With his free hand, he’s desperately trying to wipe away his tears. They still travel down his face and wet the bedding. Bakugou won’t accept his failures, they’ll eat him from the inside-out before that happens. He hates losing, knowing he’s powerless. You do too, but not with the same intensity that he has. You swear that each loss is like a bullet tearing through him. He may not let people see it, but they get to him. You can tell after knowing him for so long.

Finally, he rips his hand from your grasp and in a broken voice- “Fuck off!”

As much as you want to stay by his side, you nod and leave the room. You shut the door quietly, the click resonating in the silent hospital hallway. You find yourself wandering to the hospital room of another classmate: Todoroki. You don’t bother knocking, you just walk in. Todoroki is sitting, looking out the window of his bare room. Nothing needs to be said between the two of you. He looks at you and you can see the intense sorrow in his eyes. 

“Sho-”

“I know.” There’s no room to argue or try to continue talking, not with the tone of his voice. The way he sits reminds you of the first time you met him. Todoroki was cautious and cold, though often not intentionally. Still, it’s like you’re back to that day where you tried to greet him. You turn away from him and leave his room silently. You’re left to your own thoughts now.

None of you thought something like this would happen. Midoriya had always wanted to be a hero and he was close to reaching that dream. Whatever happened, it broke something inside him. That’s what you think, at least. It’s hard to imagine any sort of scenario that would lead to this. What in the world could drive Midoriya to become a villain? It’s a question that almost certainly doesn’t have an answer.

The dorms look like nothing happened. A month ago, there was a gaping hole in the building and any evidence of it being there is gone now. Everyone that was there knows what the hole looked like. It’s not something that can be so easily forgotten. 

You can remember hanging from one of the higher floors, struggling to keep your grip with your blood-soaked hand. The other was limp at your side, dangling like it was attached by a thread. Your head was pounding and yet you could hear everything going on. Students screaming, sirens, cries of Midoriya’s name. It was all so blurry, as if it was a nightmare. At the time, you couldn’t tell exactly what was happening. The loss of blood probably didn’t help either. What you can clearly remember doesn’t make you feel any better. 

A familiar face with a foreign expression. Midoriya was looking down at you without any care, as if you were nothing more than a bug that was bothering him. At the time, you couldn’t make out the words he was saying, it blended in with everything else. A foot crushed the fingers of your hand and without the strength to endure anymore pain, you let out a pathetic sob, falling. The last thing you remember is watching him look down at you before disappearing.

Compared to some of the other injured students, your injuries weren’t too bad. No broken limbs- a supposed blessing. Your list of injuries included a severely dislocated shoulder accompanied by torn ligaments and damaged muscle, losing a third of your blood mass from multiple gashes caused by debris along with surgeries to remove whatever got stuck in your body, a concussion and lastly, a piece of rebar that went straight through your lower abdomen, narrowly missing your spine. 

It was only recently that you were allowed to get out of bed and start walking around. Naturally, you went to check on everyone. Most of them had at least one broken bone or some serious injury. It’s a miracle that no one died. Midoriya had punched a hole through a load-bearing wall, collapsing one corner of the building. 

“Are you okay to be up?” Aizawa’s voice rumbles behind you. He must have spotted you walking aimlessly in the hall. 

“I was discharged earlier today. Just wanted to visit some people before heading home… I saw him, you know? Midoriya’s eyes weren’t right, not when I looked at him.” You sigh and look down at your hands. “Do we have any idea why he’d do this?” 

The silence of your teacher confirms your fears. He has no idea and you doubt anyone else does. The reason behind Midoriya’s sudden switch hasn’t been found yet. It’s not likely anything will ever be found out. You clench your teeth. Midoriya’s actions have changed how you feel about your future, how everyone feels about their futures. If the world can take a kind person the way it did, what sort of message does that give for the future? You don’t know. It’s obvious when you make eye contact with Aizawa that he’s just as confused as you are. Everyone’s futures have been changed, that’s the silent agreement you make with your teacher.

And, the future really did change because of that day. 

You never did become a hero. The weight of Midoriya’s gaze kept you from truly moving forward with your goal of being a hero. Shortly after everyone was well enough to resume school, physically at least, you dropped out of U.A. suddenly. The only person made aware of your choice was Aizawa, who didn’t talk about it to any of your classmates as you requested. Without any notice, your dorm room was empty and you were nowhere to be seen. There were no goodbyes, you decided to just vanish. Things had never been the same. The two people you consider yourself closest to had grown apart from you. It was as if all the time you spent with them, all the things you did together, didn’t exist at all. Things seemed easier for you to just disappear from everyone’s lives.

You haven’t seen them since. At least, in person. The most you’ve seen of any of your former classmates is on the TV or ads you see when you’re out of the house. You have a habit of buying whatever limited edition products there are if they feature any familiar faces. There’s an untouched package of limited hair dye sitting on your bathroom’s counter- a deep shade of scarlet attempting to match Kirishima’s hair. His smiling face is plastered on the package in a way that’s impossible to ignore. It’s just like the one you used to see when you were training to be a hero beside him. Of course, the product has also been quite silly to you. Anyone that knows Kirishima knows that his vibrant red hair is the result of hair dye. Other silly products are scattered around your apartment, all of them reminding you of the better days. 

“Boss!” You’re snapped out of your thinking from an employee stumbling over himself, a little pale. You sigh and stand up, the boy continues, “A customer asked for you…”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Who in the hell asked you to get me?” You expect a troublesome customer of your store, one that might be mad about the price of an item. There’s always at least one person a day that argues over prices. You walk out of the small office, sighing as you make your way to the store front. A vaguely familiar form nearly makes you vomit. Green eyes catch yours and the phantom pains from those years ago flood you enough to make you hiss from pain.

“Y/N! It’s been a long time! I’m surprised you didn’t go on to be a hero!” His sweet voice is more irritating than you thought. “What happened to that spirit?”

“I lost it when you looked me dead in the eye and skewered me on a huge pole of rebar.” You do your best to keep your voice level. Right now, you want to scream, but you know better. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but I suggest you leave.”

“I don’t want to. You’re the only classmate I can talk to without worrying about getting beat up! It’s been years since you’ve used your Quirk, right?” 

“Midoriya…” He takes a step towards you and you instinctively take one back. 

“Are you scared of me, Y/N?” Midoriya reaches out for you but before he can touch you, you’re pulled out of sleep. 

Your mother is gently shaking your shoulder, waking you up. You sigh and rub your temples, thinking about how cruel of a dream you had. Glancing at the clock, you smile at your mom affectionately.

“Guess I fell asleep again, didn’t I?” She laughs at you and ruffles your hair. “Sorry, mom. These late nights are getting to me.”

“It’s alright, dear.” She pauses. “You were muttering his name again, Y/N. Are you ever going to talk to anyone about it? I think you should, it might make you feel better.”

“There’s nothing to talk about mom.” The same worried, motherly expression crosses her face for a moment before she sighs and nods. “I’ll be heading to uni, then.” 

You settle into your seat in the back of the lecture room, pulling out your laptop. Being alone is your preference. It’s easier to be by yourself than it is to spend time with people you probably don’t like. But the room has a good echo and you can hear most of the conversations, no matter how hushed they are. Today, the normally hushed voices that you can barely make out are louder, far more energetic. You’re about to put your earbuds in until you hear something that makes you freeze.

“Did you hear? Ground Zero and Shouto have gone missing!”

For the first time in years, your mind goes back to the last words you had with the two. Neither conversations were good. The thought of either of them getting hurt, despite how much pain you went through when they distanced themselves from you, makes you nauseous. Being invisible to everyone is good, you’re able to sneak out of the lecture room without people noticing. 

You don’t know where you’re going, not even as you knock on the door of the Bakugou residence, breathing heavily. You haven’t seen Mitsuki in years, not since you left. And yet, the woman sees you and you find yourself stuck in the doorway. Not once have you ever seen Bakugou’s mother cry. She’s a strong woman. Right now though, you can tell that she’s holding back tears and you want to come in to comfort her. Tears are in the corners of her eyes. You’ve never seen Mitsuki so vulnerable-looking, so upset. She’s been angry before, but never sad, never this distraught. You’re not sure what to do, but you want to do something.

That want to help disappears the second you hear the angry voice of Kirishima. Your motivation to take a step into the house is no longer there. You haven’t seen them in years and you never said goodbye. They could be angry at you, enraged for your sudden disappearance during such a tough time. Bile rises to the back of your throat. The moment you spot Kirishima’s red hair poke out behind Mitsuki, you sputter out:

“He’s going to be okay, I know it.” 

That’s all you can manage to say before you’re bolting away from the house. You hear her call your name and you know if you look behind you, there’s going to be faces you haven’t seen in years staring at you. So you run, not stopping until you’re standing in front of your apartment. Barely stumbling into your apartment, you collapse in the hallway. You kick the door of your apartment closed. 

“Fuck…” For the first time in years, you choke back a sob. “Fuck- What was I thinking?”

[bloodfromthethorn]

Flatline

Sometimes, a good day can just turn on a dime. No one can predict if a bright sunny morning might end up being the day you're forced to watch your best friend die.

Part nine of the July of Whump 2021 prompt challenge.

Also on AO3. 

..

The bullet comes out of nowhere. That might be the worst part about it, honestly. No matter how aware Jack is of his surroundings, no matter how much he tries to keep Mac out of danger, what could he possibly do to prevent a sniper camped on a rooftop half a mile away from taking a potshot at his partner when they’re just casually walking into work on an average Tuesday morning? Bright California sunshine above them, laughing without a care in the world, minds focused on nothing but the list of tasks they had to do that day. For all his training and preparation and drive, Jack never stood a chance against something he couldn’t see coming.

It’s so unexpected that it takes Jack a solid few seconds to catch up to what’s actually going on: first, Mac, a few steps ahead of him, jolts oddly to the side with a staggering half step; then, a second later, the sharp boom-crack of a rifle rolls over them and Jack instinctively ducks his head, the experience of two decades’ worth of dodging gunfire kicking him hard in the ass; third, Mac tries to do the same thing, lurching forwards slightly towards the cover of the building they are oh-so-close to, but stops short, curling into himself in a way Jack has seen once before and never, ever wanted to repeat. He knows even before Mac turns what he’ll see: a dark swell of red, low on his partner’s chest.

The whole thing can take no more than a second or two, but it feels like it lasts a lifetime. Then there’s a crackle along Jack’s skin and the passage of time reasserts itself with a snap and he’s throwing himself forwards to tackle Mac into the shadow of the Phoenix’s entrance just as another distant shot sounds off and a chunk of masonry explodes right beside Jack’s head. His partner grunts at the impact, but either lets Jack move him or simply doesn’t have the strength to fight him because he doesn’t put up the slightest resistance as he’s knocked to the floor.

As soon as Jack’s certain he and Mac are both out of sight of the shooter, he fixes every ounce of his attention on the red stain rapidly spreading across Mac’s shirt.

“Jah-” he rasped, breaking off in a pained cough that seems to shake him to his very bones. His skin is already ashen pale and it wasn’t supposed to go like this.

“Don’t try to speak kiddo,” he snaps back, yanking his shirt over his head to press it harshly against the wound. “Just breathe through it, okay? Keep breathing.”

He knows that he doesn’t have long. Mac’s limbs have already turned leaden and unresponsive, and while the bullet looks like it was too low to catch his heart, there’s plenty of other vital organs to worry about. After all these years, he really could lose Mac in minutes. He can’t let that happen.

There are voices shouting inside, some enterprising secretary on the front desk apparently catching on to the battlefield unfurling outside her door and summoning help. For the first time in perhaps his entire life, Jack puts the security of the Phoenix Foundation right to the back of his mind and ignores it completely; all he cares about in that moment is getting Mac inside and down the stairs to the trained medical staff who are Mac’s only hope. Nothing else matters until the wavering heartbeat pattering against his palm is steady again.

With that goal in mind, he abandons his vain attempts at stemming the bleeding in favour of threading his arms under Mac’s shoulders and knees and hoisting him up. It’s an awkward carry, with Mac both too long and too heavy for Jack to comfortably handle like this, especially when he’s utterly limp – and definitely not a dead weight – but Jack’s never cared about that less. He could pull every single muscle in his body and it wouldn’t even register over the screaming fear of watching his partner’s eyes roll back in his bloodless face.

“Don’t you dare die on me Mac,” he threatens harshly, and dashes inside.

..

There was a team waiting to receive him when he burst through the doors of the med bay, no doubt thanks to the secretary he’d yelled at as he’d passed by. Once he had any brainpower to spare beyond worrying about Mac, he’d make a mental note to find out her name and thank her.

“Put him down on here,” one of the nurses called, gesturing to the gurney they’d wheeled out. “How long has he been unconscious?”

“About four minutes,” he answered, breathless and terrified. “He was awake after he was hit – he knew who I was.”

As soon as Mac was lying flat, the medical personnel swarmed around him, pushing Jack firmly around so that he was standing beside his feet. Everyone who worked at the Phoenix had some awareness of Mac and Jack’s ironclad partnership, and that went double for the medical staff; they’d learned long ago not to bother trying to separate them when one of them was injured. It was far easier and painless if they just moved them aside to get the room they needed and then just left them to it.

“BP dropping,” one of the nurses announced sharply, a stethoscope pressed to the inside of Mac’s elbow.

A doctor tore open Mac’s ruined shirt to examine the wound, while another nurse used the opportunity to affix a series of sensors across Mac’s chest. The machine they were attached to immediately started wailing.

“Irregular heartbeat,” the nurse said. “Dropping quickly.”

“GSW to the chest,” the doctor examining the wound said. “No exit wound. I think- Shit. It’s a sucking wound.”

Jack might spend a lot of his life playing the fool, but the truth was that he was much smarter than most people gave him credit for. After so many years in the military, he’d had more than enough run-ins with medics and he’d made sure to do his research when he realised Mac had a penchant for sprinting towards danger. He knew exactly how bad that announcement was.

“Okay,” said the female doctor beside Mac’s head, calm in the face of such dire news. “We need to get him into surgery, right now.”

The gurney immediately starting moving down the hallway, Jack trailing along desperately in its wake.

“We’ll need to start with a transfusion. Blood type?”

“AB negative,” Jack answered.

“Jason, get a pint prepped. Sarah, I need a line in his arm. Run it open wide, we’re going to need to get a lot of fluids into him as quickly as we can. Who’s my anaesthesiologist?”

Whatever the answer to that question was, it was completely lost in the sudden screech of alarm from the heart monitor. The nurse in charge of it snapped to attention. “Code blue! Flatline!”

The bottom of Jack’s stomach dropped away.

The lead doctor barked out a name and one of the nurses right beside Jack immediately hopped up on the gurney, flailing for a split second as he juggled his limbs so he wasn’t standing on Mac before settling in to hover of him. Arranging his hands on Mac’s chest without aggravating the wound didn’t look comfortable, but he started compressions without pause.

Jack felt his steps faltering as he watched the nurse throwing his weight down onto Mac’s sternum, one of the other staff pressing a blue Ambu bag over his face to breathe for him. Breathing for him because he couldn’t – because Mac’s heart had-

-because-

-because Mac was-

-dead.

Mac was dead.

He was flatlining because his heart had stopped in his chest and the only thing keeping him on this side of the board was a medical team doing absolutely everything they could to preserve him. After all these years, after swearing to lay his life on the line to protect him, after a decade of you go kaboom, I go kaboom and now Jack was racing down a corridor with a fist-sized stone sitting heavy in his throat because there was no way this could be real. This wasn't right - it wasn't supposed to go down like this. Not ever. There was no conceivable world in which Jack was standing there completely unharmed while Mac was lying there motionless, entirely devoid of life. He refused.

Through it all the team hadn’t flinched and even now they were fighting to the last. Jack had to do the same.

Just as the doors to the theatre suite – the doors Jack knew he wasn’t allowed to cross no matter how much he might want to – appeared at the end of the corridor, the heart monitor suddenly let out another mighty beeping sound.

“I’ve got V-fib,” the nurse holding it said, relief evident in her voice. “Prep for defibrillation.”

“Ready!”

The nurse performing compressions backed off suddenly, sitting back uncomfortably on his heels as he hovered. “Clear!”

There was a sharp clicking sound, and Mac’s whole body twitched just as the gurney was whisked through the doors and out of sight. Jack skidded to a halt, his heart in his throat and his face wet with tears he hadn’t even realised he’d been crying. There was nothing he wanted more than to follow, to stand beside his brother in his hour of need as he had always promised to do, but he knew that busting into the operating theatre was not an option. Jack had to trust that the doctors knew what they were doing – trust them with Mac’s life. He’d never been very good at that.

But there was nothing for it. Jack had failed his most basic commandment: keep the kid safe. Now, all he could do was hope that the medics were better at their jobs than he had been at his. It was the only possible outcome. Because the alternative was-

-the alternative was that he really had just watched Mac die. And that- That was something he could not countenance. 

Exhausted, drained, and covered in his brother’s blood, Jack stood there in the hallway and wept.

..

By the time Mac was out of surgery, Riley, Bozer, and Matty had all arrived to join in Jack’s vigil. Riley had done what she could to try to comfort him, to bring him back to himself, but in the end it had taken Bozer’s look of horror for Jack to excuse himself and take a lightning-fast shower in the gym. He was absolutely loath to leave the med bay while Mac’s status was still so uncertain, but he wasn’t about to force Boze to spend the next few hours staring at his best friend’s blood.

And, he had to admit, he did feel ever so slightly better when he wasn’t leaving red fingerprints wherever he went.

The four of them collectively leapt to their feet when Mac’s doctor appeared in the waiting room doorway. Jack dimly recognised her as the woman who had been in charge of the trauma response team he’d met earlier.

“Agent MacGyver is stable,” she announced, then paused to let the room breathe a sigh of heart-rending relief. “The wound was severe and he lost a lot of blood, but we’ve been able to repair the damage to his thoracic cavity and we’re hopeful his lung will make a full recovery within the next few months. The blood loss has put him at risk of shock, but we’re monitoring the situation and so far he’s not showing any of the expected signs. All in all, he has been extremely lucky.”

Jack wanted to point out that being lucky would have involved not getting shot in the first place, but he was waylaid from saying so by Riley flinging herself into his arms and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. He gripped her back just as tightly.

“He’s going to be okay,” Riley was whispering, more to reassure herself than anything. Tears welling in his eyes again, Jack could relate.

“Can- Can we see him?”

The doctor’s smile was indulgent. “Normally, I would say no. He’s still under sedation and he needs his rest, but I’m given to understand that if I try to enforce that rule you’ll break it anyway. So, I’m going to say yes, you can see him, on the condition that you don’t disturb him. Agreed?”

“I’ll keep them in line,” Matty put in firmly, shooting the three of them a widely-cast look that said they’d suffer the consequences if they did anything they shouldn’t.

All Jack wanted was to see Mac. Nothing else mattered beyond that. When the doctor nodded and stepped out the door, he was already half a pace behind her.

Despite the nature of the work they did, the Phoenix’s medical bay wasn’t actually that extensive. Most serious medical emergencies were dealt with by whatever hospital or clinic happened to be local; Phoenix medical was instead typically primed for day-to-day check-ups and monitoring of long-term recoveries, the type of thing that agents would actually be in LA to worry about. There was a handful of biomedical labs used for research, but mostly the trauma centre confined itself to a single corner of the building.

Nonetheless, the walk to Mac’s room felt like it took an age. At some point, the other three appeared to silently agree they should hang back and give Jack a minute alone, which he was both crippling grateful for and terrified of, but anything else he was feeling fled the second he stepped into his partner’s room and saw him for the first time.

His immediate reaction was that Mac looked a hell of a lot better than he had the last time Jack had laid eyes on him, but then, he had been literally dead. It would have been hard for the bar to be any lower. A more keen observation took in the spiderweb of machines and IV lines crisscrossing Mac’s torso, the oxygen mask perched on his face, and the unnatural pallor to his skin that spoke of too much blood loss. Still, he was breathing and his heart monitor was beeping peacefully and that-

Jack drew in a shaky breath. It was a lot to take in. Just this morning they’d been making their way into the office and Mac had been telling him about the reaction he was planning on setting up later that day – something about investigating whether he could use a new polymer blend to increase the stab resistance of their Kevlar vests – and now, here he was. He was alive and breathing, but with a new hole punched through his chest because someone out there had decided Jack’s wrath was an insufficient deterrent for hurting his kid. It was a mistake that Jack would be all too happy to correct.

But not quite yet. All of that could come later – right now, all he wanted to do was stay with his partner and remind himself that he was still breathing and Jack’s failure had not cost him everything. With that in mind, he slipped his hand into Mac’s limp one, sat himself in the chair pulled up beside the bed, and settled in for the long haul.

“I know you can’t hear me just yet slick, but when you wake up, you and I are gonna have a long talk about all of this. You can’t keep doing this to me man. My heart can’t take it.” He reached out his free hand and smoothed back the hair that had flopped into Mac’s eyes, taking the opportunity to feel for a temperature and finding only cool skin.

“Don’t you worry about that right now though. You just get some rest. We’ll all be right here when you wake up.”

[catalinaroleplay]

Gender & Pronouns: Demigirl, she/they

Date of Birth: July 28th, 1990 (30)

Place of Birth: Catalina Island, California

Neighborhood: Avalon

Length of Residency: Native

Occupation: Owner of Essence of Petra and Former Reality TV Star 

Face Claim: Margot Robbie

BIOGRAPHY

TRIGGERS: Car Accident.

It’s always been acknowledged that every person is different from the next. Many people study the virtual calendar on their iPhone, patiently waiting for the workday to be over because it’s one day closer to the weekend. Two days out of the five-day workweek, where people rest themselves or use these two days to socialize only to regret they didn’t get enough rest. Though, when someone wakes up each morning, it’s someone’s birthday erupting from the vast locations across the planet. Some people care, other people don’t, but when you put Cleo Halliwell into the equation, what’s supposed to be a single-day celebration on July 28th, has become the hottest ticket for anyone to get their hands on in Catalina.

Although, instead of jumping ahead into the festivities of Cleo and her need to be the center of attention regardless of the circumstances, the backstory of Arthur and Evelyn Halliwell’s eldest daughter has to start somewhere. Ideally, the day of July 28th, 1989, is when her beloved mother endured twenty-six-hour labor to see the sight of their newborn quiet as a mouse and sucking on her thumb. It’s the first and only time when silence overpowered Cleo ─ even when her head lay upon wicked Evelyn’s chest. It’s far from a warning sign for the new parents over how kind of havoc they’re going to receive from their daughter. Though, as the years went on, everyone close to the platinum-locked girl sat on the edge of their seats, rarely having a moment of silence to relax, as they needed to keep their attention in complete focus for the unknown that could plenty come from her behalf.

Her constant push and pull infuriated Evelyn for years. Others would react out to seek attention from their loved ones. For her, the reason for acting out was because the adrenaline consuming her couldn’t be thrashed elsewhere. She loved breaking the norms that society placed on women, specifically in prominent positions due to their families. She didn’t care if she came home with bruises on her knees from all of the tumbles from the jungle gym or for sliding on the grass to the nearest base for the impromptu baseball game. This is everything she loved. Of course, for her mother, Evelyn’s endless scorns at her daughter felt as if she’s boomed and is failing what’s supposed to be the matriarch of her jewelry company. After all, your firstborn inherits the responsibilities when the parents pass on, especially when you have a family business.

However, as the young girl kept growing and finding new ways to evolve herself, one happens to be the sudden interest in ballet. A glimmer of hope flickered in the matriarch’s colored optics. If it hadn’t been for the spontaneous work trip Arthur took for his wife’s company and constant pleading from his younger daughter, she would’ve never laid eyes on the holiday performance of Nutcracker performed by the New York City Ballet. It had been love at first sight before any other life experiences could come to her. It’s all the bright and wide-eyed six years old Cleo could talk about on the car ride from the performance to the hotel, then for the proceeding days. It got to the point where their words began to exhaust their father, who retorted to occasional hm’s, and that’s nice remarks. Yet, his minimal words meant he��s listening, and because of his open-ears, the father-daughter pairing returned from their New York trip; Arthur made sure to inform his wife about Cleo’s dreams.

So, as the young girl went to bed that evening, she’d be woken up in the morning to their mother, pre-plastic surgery, standing over the bed with fabulous news. Her mother hired Tamara Rojo, an artistic director of the English National Ballet and the lead principal dancer. A collection of known performances and awards proving her ability and impact in the industry did not go overlooked. Because of Tamara’s praise, it led to Evelyn Halliwell getting the best for her daughter ─ even if it meant coming off as menacing.

The dynamic between both Cleo and Tamara flourished gracefully and instantly. The teacher stimulated the young dancer early to achieve every one of her goals without a second thought. Any form of doubt was quickly overturned with guidance, even with ways to encourage the young girl while hearing her feelings before pushing her through the three hours of practice. However, the further Tamara made her feel appreciated. Even from when Cleo was young, her mother would be hands-off and only show interest when it benefited it. It took her years to start seeing the former principal as a monumental figure. Tamara became a pseudo mother that she longed for and knew would never change her, as Evelyn tried all too frequently.

And the motherly connection Cleo established with Tamara would only prosper over the years. If it hadn’t been for Tamara, the continuous encouragement, and signing up the young ballerina for competitions, she’d remain a nobody from the isle of Catalina Island. If it hadn’t been for her teacher, she wouldn’t have received a letter from the American Ballet Theatre with a position to join the company after her high school graduation. It was a dream come true and something she had worked feverishly, yet tiredly toward, from the moment she took the spontaneous New York City trip with her father. Now it was paying off, and nothing could crush their dreams.

That’s until she ended up in a car accident in November of her senior year, dating a month after learning about her position at the American Ballet Theatre. The accident was gruesome to Cleo because the impact was direct into the passenger’s side. Luckily for their seatbelt, it saved her because had the circumstances been different, the aging individuals’ life would’ve ended then and there due to the intensity. Though, there’s more harm that consumed her trained body and ended their dream of being a principal dancer ─ a ruptured disc.

Doctors told them that surgeries could adjust the damages to a point where she’ll function without laborious complaints, but it will never be the same. After all, medicine doesn’t work that way. Once the car accident happened, the damage had been created. Minimization is ideally the best solution, but none will receive one hundred percent capability. Maybe ninety percent, so it’s loose in the possibilities, but the young girl would notice the difference immediately. If she wanted to dance, which wasn’t recommended by their doctors, the future would be gruesome and full of distress, as the only way to minimize the feeling would be through chiropractors and massage therapists. But they needed to lay it out flat for the young girl to avoid her doing anything reckless ─ considering since reckless, and testing any sort of authority, is their middle name. So, as challenging as the news turned out to be, Cleo had to move on. Whether she liked it, and the latter she did not, this is the new normal for them.

Astonishingly three months later, Gwendolyn Prescott and Cleo jokingly signed up for a local talent show. Little did the girls know what would outcome they’d receive. The decision had been a spur of the moment and a chance for them to do something irregular on a Friday evening rather than purposefully causing havoc that would end send their parents to early burials. The then-blondes went out on stage in a head-to-toe black attire and sang an original piece ─ Potential Breakup Song, described as how things unfolded between this suitor and one of the girls. Neither one of the pairs knew, let alone were aware, the head of the record label Hollywood Studios happened to be in the crowd since their niece coincidentally signed up for the show.

Something that unfolded on a whim led to an introduction and an eventual album deal to test the waters of their popularity before going any further. This offer alone came without any rejections as both sets of parents encouraged this opportunity. Dealing with a single topping the charts, handling a private life while attending school, and recording an album at seventeen showed them the first signs of adulthood. It had been fun. It also tested their patience, capability, along with a glimpse of what potential endeavors may endure. Many opportunities could’ve happened but, there was always an underlying factor ─ university.

After the release of Into The Rush, the only album Cleo and Gwen put out as a duo, the best friends agreed to fulfill their utmost potential by completing their tertiary education. Gwen booking a one-way ticket to New York while Cleo loaded up their newly purchased BMW X5 and made the trip to the University of Berkeley as the young soul got accepted into the school’s business program. Little did Cleo know, the single album release would land the second eldest Halliwell as the face and the protagonist of a reality series called Saint Catalina upon their return to the isle once the freshmen semester was completed.

The reality series carried on for four years as it set forth the future path for Cleo’s career once graduating from Berkeley. Not only did it bring opportunities such as an active perfume line, Cleodora, but side modeling bookings throughout the years to build their resume. It’s strange to imagine that once, in a blue moon, she thought ballet would be their break to stardom. But with improvisation, good luck, and a straightforward personality that captivated viewers’ attention, the path forward for the blonde is promising. Just when you think you’ve had enough of Cleo Halliwell, she comes back swinging ─ literally.

PERSONALITY

Positive: Straightforward | Logical | Entertaining

Negative: Imperious | Sardonic | Puerile

Cleo Halliwell is portrayed by Steph.

[danganronpa-tng]

Underground Travels; Part 2

We walked for half an hour, according to my watch. (We woke up at around 7:30PM, it was 8PM now.) There didn't seem to be anything in the tunnel, so we were just walking with seemingly no aim.

“Do you think we’ll be out of here soon?” I asked. William shrugged.

“Dunno. Hopefully!” He said. 

“Th-that’s fair.” I replied.

As we kept walking, Kailyn stopped, squinting.

“Hey, hey Boys. See that?” She pointed forward. I looked forward and saw a small light a bit in the distance.

“H-hey, there’s the end..! Let’s go!” I said, speeding up a bit despite the aching in my legs. We all made our way there, finding a door cracked open a sliver. A room lay inside, which we walked in to.

“What is this room?” William asked, looking around. The room had two doors leading off them, one labelled ‘Eagle Eye’ and the other labelled ‘Precision’.

“No clue...” Kailyn said, walking up to one of the doors. Eagle Eye.

Before she reached it though, something fell out of the roof. Or rather, someone.

“Hahahahahaha!! Welcome, you fucks, to the Challenge Chamber!” They exclaimed, cackling. I stumbled back with a yelp.

“Wh-who are you?!” I asked. William put a hand on my shoulder.

“I, you unfortunate unclefucker, am Nerezza Enoshima!! Self-proclaimed Ultimate Despair, at your service.” She grinned. Her teeth were oddly sharp. Kinda scary.

“U-unclefu-??”

“Now, glad you made it!! Me and the boss almost thought you wouldn't leave the room. Or hell, not even wake up at all!” She said.

“The boss? Who’s the boss?” Kailyn asked. She didn’t seem intimidated.

“None of your business, sweetheart. Besides, whoever survives is gonna have to figure that out themselves!” 

“What do you- ...whoever survives..?”

“Uh huh!! Sorry to tell ya, but only one of you is making it out of this place! Well, probably. Just guessing since, ya know, the challenges are hard as balls. Hehehe!” She chuckled, hands proudly on her hips. ‘She’s demented.’ I thought.

“Now, let me explain. Two of you are going to attempt a challenge first; one in Eagle Eye, and one in Precision. We’re gonna pick who doesn’t have to do it outta a hat, so good luck!”

She suddenly pulled a hat out of seemingly nowhere and stuck her arm in, moving it around until she finally pulled out a name.

“And the person who doesn’t have to compete issss... Ah, old unclefucker! Ryo Togami, you’re safe.” She said. Kailyn and William looked at each other somewhat nervously.

“So... what do we have to do?” William asked.

“Simple! Enter your room, complete the task, and leave! Simple as.”

“But you said it’d be hard?”

“Ohh, did I? Sorry, I have super short fucking memory!” She laughed again. 

“S-so what do I do..?” I asked, tugging at my sleeves.

“Well, you just wait for someone to finish. When someone does, go through their door and move on to the next challenge!” Nezerra said. I nodded slowly as she turned to the others.

“Now then, I’m gonna give you plebs the option of which room you wanna take each! Choose wisely, because you’ll both do better in one of the other.”

And with that, Nezerra left, locking the exit behind her. We all looked around at each other.

“So..?” William started. Kailyn looked at the rooms, then back at us.

“I’m thinking Eagle Eye for me. Sounds like something to do with good aim or good vision, and I have both.”

‘Right! And I need precision for surgeries, so that sounds good for me.” He said.

The doors clicked open, signalling they were ready. The two looked at each other, then Kailyn stuck out her hand.

“Good luck, William. May the best player win.”

William nodded, shaking her hand.

“And to you! No hard feelings either way.”

“Of course. Be ready to follow whoever wins first, Ryo.”

“A-ah, I will! Be careful, you two. G-good luck..!” I told them. They gave me a smile, before entering their rooms. 

Two screens came down from the roof, displaying two rooms; the ones with Kailyn and William in them. Kailyn’s room seemed to be aim, like she’d thought. William’s looked like an oversized version of Operation.

“Now, the game will begin shortly!! Kirigiri, your goal is to hit every target from the red spot you’re standing on. There’s a gun and ammo beside you. Just don’t shoot yourself, that’d be no fun!! And Tanaka, your goal is to remove every piece without buzzing! If you buzz, every piece returns and you start all over. Boo hoo! Now, 3...”

The two looked nervous.

“2...”

“Good luck, you guys...”

1! Begin!!”

The two instantly sprang into action. Kailyn loaded her gun quicker than I could follow and started firing, hitting a target or two. William instantly buckled down and got a piece or two out. They had a while to go though.

Nezerra walked back out.

“This is gonna be fun!” She said, smirking.

“N-no it isn’t! Is- are they gonna be OK?” I asked. She shrugged.

“Probably. I didn’t make the reward, I just made the game.”

“You... you’re Junko Enoshima’s child, right..?” I found myself asking.

“Kyahahahaha! Smart fucker, aintcha? Yep, that’s my mom. Not much of a mother though, I’ll tell ya that!” She said, totally nonchalantly.

...well, as nonchalant as she could be.

“D-do you have a dad?”

“Probably, but not like I know him. Mom slept around, you feel me? Never knew who dad was, and I don’t really care to either. I’m happy being demented on my own, thank you very much!” She declared.

‘Well, at least she knows she’s unstable...’

“Got any other questions? These fucks are getting boring, and I love talking about myself.” She asked. I hummed. I had made it my business to know about the other Ultimates my age, so knowing about another couldn’t hurt. Especially since she’s the child of someone so scary...

“Ok, well... you said you’re not the boss, right? Why not?”

“Hmm?”

“I mean, considering your mother, you seem the type to run something like this. Who would be able to control an Enoshima?” I asked. She smirked.

“Good question, nerd. Well, my mom can’t exactly do despair’s work anymore, because everyone already left the sum, yeah? And besides, she’s getting old. So when she noticed this person one day just writhing with whatever the real life version of despair is, she sent me to go... well, slip ‘em an idea. So, they agreed to run it as long as I helped. I agreed, obviously. This sorta shit is fun!” She explained. Kailyn continued firing on screen as I heard a buzz from Will’s side. He didn’t seem deterred though, as he simply restarted and continued.

“Goodness...”

We didn’t say anything else for a bit. I continued watching the screens in fear, because the Enoshima family always spelled trouble. After a while, I sorta zoned out. I had to wonder where the exit led. Where would we end up? It was an unusual thought that kept me wondering for a bit, trying to think of anything that could have told me where we were. Were we at some weird version of Hope’s Peak? That couldn’t be possible, right-

“Done!!”

I snapped my head up to see William standing triumphantly, every piece beside him. Kailyn froze, obviously having heard. Her gun clattered to the ground.

“I... I see.” She said. “Well, good match William-”

As she was talking, four sorta pipes with clamps on the end came out of the walls, grabbing her by her arms and legs. She let out a small yelp before closing her mouth.

“Kailyn!! Nezerra, let her go!!” I cried. Nezerra shook her head, smiling.

“Nuh-uh! Congrats, William! Your reward is life. For now, anyways!! And, Kailyn... your punishment is... well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Now, are we ready?!” She announced. 

“NO!” Me and William both cried, William looking around his room frantically.

Kailyn sighed, then looked up at her camera. She smiled softly.

“Well, it appears I’ve lost, mother. However, I am not a sore loser.”

The clamps stretched her a bit more, making her wince.

“T-to the... v-victor go the... the... spoils...”

*Pwish!*

*Splat.*

The last I saw was Kailyn’s limbs being torn from her before the camera was splattered with blood. I screamed, falling backwards and onto the ground.

“Kailyn!! Kailyn!” I yelled, grabbing my head in my hands. I hadn’t known her for that long, but she’d been my friend. And seeing her die like that was... was absolutely horrific.

“Hah, pussy. This sorta thing is normal for me! Anyways, I’ll unlock those doors for you now, Willy! See you in the next challenge, boys.” And with that and a laugh, she left again, William’s door unlocking. William, as soon as he got out, ran over to me.

“Ryo! Hey, Ryo, hey! It’s gonna be OK, I promise. Come on, breathe.” He told me, rubbing my back as I sobbed into my hands. “Come on, breathe in for four seconds, hold for seven and exhale for eight. Yeah, that’s it.” 

I did as he said, still crying but steadying my breathing. After a moment, I was kinda calmed down.

“K... Kailyn...” I murmered helplessly. I should have gone in there instead. Maybe if I had, she could have survived. “This is all because of my rotten luck. Of all the talents to have...”

“Hey, hey no... None of this is your fault. It’s that stupid girl’s. It’s gonna be OK... she isn’t trapped here anymore. She’s free now, and we will be too soon.” He told me. I sniffled and nodded, sitting up a bit.

“I-I... thanks, William... how are you so g-good at comforting..?” I asked.

“A lot of people get emotional over pets. I’ve gotten used to comforting people.”

“A-ah...”

After a moment of silence, he stood up and offered me his hand.

“Come on. Let’s go get some revenge for her.” He told me, smiling softly. It was oddly comforting, honestly. I nodded, taking his hand with a shaking hand and standing up.

“Ok... l-let’s go.”

(End of Part 2...)

[thevengeanceuniverse]

Touch in the dark Ch 1.1 (Tony)

This is based off of a Stony mob story ‘The Way You Look’ which is fantastic and got me obsessed. Let me know what you think!

Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Summary: Steve Rogers and James Romanov are two of the six mob lords of New York City. Eight months ago, they saved Tony Stark from being beaten to death and put a gun in his hand to kill his father. He's been living in bliss ever since. Mostly.

Except for the fact that he's gay in a time that it's a death sentence, the man he loves was almost killed for loving him and the man he needs help from hates him because they love the same person.

Oh, and Fury swirls in with his cape to tell him drugs are flooding the city.

Also found https://archiveofourown.org/works/23556382

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“To what do I owe the pleasure, mal’chik?”

James Romanov lounged easily in his leather chair, framed by stormy grey drapes that bordered the wide expanse of wintery New York sky visible through the window behind him. Planted behind his heavy mahogany desk and dressed elegantly in a bespoke suit in navy blue, he looked more like some English lord rather than the leader of the ruling mob of Brooklyn. But even if you were ignorant of the violent acts committed by the Russian Bratva, or brotherhood, the coldness in James Romanov’s blue-grey eyes was an obvious enough warning to those smart enough to see it. It also gave him the name that most people knew him by. Winter.

Antonio Edward Stark stood across from him, pushing down his unease as he met the mobster’s eyes squarely. “I was hoping to take you up on your offer, if it’s still available.” Tony made conscious effort to speak smoothly but respectfully, tamping down any hint of nerves in his voice or stature. He knew James wouldn’t hurt him (okay, more like 90% sure but that’s still good odds) out of respect for Steve, but his gut still churned with anxiety.

James merely waited, mild expression firmly in place. Tony knew that though he was his best friend’s lover, James still didn’t trust him. He didn’t begrudge the other man, it was only a few months that he’d come into their lives and being the leaders of two of the biggest mobs in the city didn’t exactly lend trust easily.

His voice sounding loud in the heavy silence, Tony elaborated. “I was rude to you in the hospital, the night that Steve…was emotional.” A more diplomatic way of alluding to the fact that Steve had gotten high off the morphine used to treat the pains from his wounds and broken down. He had been grieving, mourning the fact that Falsworth--one of his oldest friends from the army and a man who had saved his life just as much as he saved his--had turned against him because he learned that Steve loved men as well as women and tried to kill him for it. Steve hadn’t taken it well, said things in anger and ripped his stitches trying to leave his hospital bed.

Tony had told James that he would handle it, basically dismissed him from the room like a lackey. And Tony had stood by his word, ignoring the fact that he had in no way endeared himself to James Romanov, Steve’s oldest friend and past lover. But at the time, that hadn’t mattered--only Steve had mattered in that moment. But moments pass and times change and now he needed to undo the damage he had done.

“I’m sorry about the way I acted, especially after everything you’ve done,” Tony continued. “You’re the one who saved Steve’s life and was responsible for all of his care and I am eternally grateful for that--”

“I didn’t do any of that for you,” James interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “And I don’t need you to remind me of my own actions. Stop wasting my time, why are you here?”

Tony hesitated. Things had changed between them all since Tony had started living with Steve. James hadn’t attended a family dinner since he had come back from Russia, and things between him and Steve were still tense. But James was the only one he could ask.

“Before I killed Howard,” he said softly, “you asked if I wanted to learn how to use a knife. If the offer’s still on the table, I’d like you to teach me.”

James tilted his head, looking at Tony more intently.

“What changed your mind? The last we spoke of it, you decided you didn’t like close quarter attacks.”

Tony nodded. “I still don’t. But you were right, if I truly want to support Steve I need to be involved, I need to know his life to know him. And his life--your lives--are violent ones. I need to be able to protect myself and not be a liability to him.”

“What a noble goal,” James murmured mockingly before his voice hardened. “But you need intention if I’m going to put a weapon in your hand and spend time training you. My time is too valuable for someone with half-baked conviction who’s going to just quit once things get too scary. This isn’t some quaint little hobby you can pick up and drop when it gets too hard. Nor is it like using a gun. Knives are bloodier and much more intimate; will you be able to handle that? The smell of the blood, the hot spill of it over your hands?”

Tony grew pale at the images James put in his head, flashing back to the times Howard’s hands had been stained with his own blood. Of the nights after killing him that stretched out into eternity, unable to sleep, unable to eat, unsure for who he was even grieving for. Howard, for taking his life? Peter, for stealing away the only father his brother had known? Himself?

But then he thought of Steve. Steve, who had to leave his hospital bed with a barely healed bullet wound in his chest, to weed out the bad seeds in his organization. Steve, who went into surgery for multiple stab wounds on top of his reopened gunshot wound, while Tony could only wait in the hospital corridor not knowing whether the man he loved was going to survive the night. Steve, who had to be on enforced bedrest for six weeks before he could come home, becoming angrier day by day as he worked through grief and anger and betrayal.

Tony had been helpless through it all, unable to anything but hold his lover in the aftermath and comfort him best he could.

Holding tight to thoughts of Steve, Tony felt his resolve harden. “I’m not going to stop until I’m good enough to kill you.”

A deadly silence fell over the room, time enough for Tony to fully absorb his own impetuous words and have a moment to regret his life choices. After years of Howard’s abuse, he didn’t usually feel comfortable to mouth off the way he just did but he got fired up when he thought about protecting Steve for once. Yep, that’s it. If he dies, he’s blaming Steve.

Stumbling out an apology, an explanation--kill someone as skilled as him that’s what he was trying to say--

He is shocked speechless when James bursts out laughing as if the threat was the funniest thing he’d ever heard instead of lunging over the desk and eviscerating him like the image his mind oh so helpfully provides. Thankfully, when James finally speaks the only thing bleeding is his sarcasm.

“I’m sure.”

Tony could only guess that not many dared to threaten the mob boss and the rarity of someone doing so made the situation hilarious. The fact that it was Tony, wiry and slim and with no deadly training whatsoever made for great comedy in the face of the infamy of the Bratva leader. James had been their boss for many years after seizing power and had extensive experience in brutally reinforcing his claim. Tony doubted he feared anything.

Therefore, Tony didn’t bother being insulted at how blithely unconcerned James was, just blessed his good luck. “Will you teach me?”

James raised one shoulder in an elegantly careless movement. “I’ll talk to Steve about it. You’re under his protection and while we have a long-lasting alliance, I don’t want him coming at me when you come home marked up with cuts and bruises. Besides,” he indicated Tony’s form, “he might get jealous that he’s won’t be the only one getting his hands on you anymore.”

Tony felt his face fill with heat, but he knew that James meant nothing by the comment. In fact, after walking in on James and Steve’s shared kiss months before, he was sure that rather than his body, the one who James would rather be holding was Steve. It was part of why things were still so awkward between them, and why Tony didn’t mind if James disliked him. He knew that if he was in love with Steve and Steve had chosen another, it would be difficult for him to try and like that other person. That was why he had no intention of hiding all this from Steve. These two didn’t need any more secrets between them, and neither did he and Steve.

Hopefully, it would only give James and Steve another thing to talk about. Though Tony did suspect that Steve might object to him coming home battered and bruised with the way his protective instincts flared up for any of his own. But if they were going to make this work, sooner or later they would get to this point and Tony saw no point in wasting time. Steve’s near death experience was a wake-up call, hammering in the unpredictability of their lives and the fact that their safety was hard fought commodity. Tony wasn’t going to take it for granted and he wanted to be able to protect those he loved when the next threat came. A mobster’s life was unlikely to ever be a truly safe one.

“Is there anything I can do in return?” Tony offered. He wasn’t sure what he could offer, before coming to live with Steve he only had $26 to his name. Now everything he had was either a gift from Steve or Aunt Sarah or something crafted by hand from Peter, so it was too precious to trade. But it felt wrong to take something for nothing.

Surprisingly, James’s face closed off, all signs of his laughter wiped away and eyes as chilling as they had been when Tony walked in. Tony was reminded all at once that while the man in front of him had saved his life and ensured his care, he was not his friend.

“You have nothing I want.”

Tony took it for the dismissal it was and left.

[heytheregreeneyes]

How come you gave up on 'Something Just Like This'? I loved that fic

So here’s the thing...

I haven’t given up on Something Just Like This. I actually still love that fic dearly and very much intend to finish it (and I need to do it soon before Tyler steals all of my ideas like he did with Jenna’s pregnancy reveal *shakes fist at Tyler*).

As you all know, this past year I hadn’t felt much like writing and I couldn’t figure out why... until the other night at work. I was sitting at my desk, staring off into space and thinking about dialogue for the current chapter when it hit me like a freight train why I haven’t been writing. I had had an epiphany!

My eyes literally got wide as I sat straight up, gasped and literally said “Oh my God,” out loud. It was so obvious, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before. And the first thing I did was text @ohfrickfanfic (who agrees with me), even tho it was somewhere around 3:25 in the morning. So if you wanna hear the story behind the fic, buckle in kids, cause it’s gonna be a long one, and it’s gonna get deep.

So as you all know, I started writing Something Just Like This in July of 2017. I was 4 months pregnant with my 3rd surrobaby, who was due in December on Christmas Eve. I was writing as fast as my fingers could fly and was banging out chapters probably once a week. Sometimes twice.  

December 12, 2017 - SURROBABY IS BORN! After this, chapters obviously slowed down so that I could pump milk and get my life back to somewhat normal again.

Six months later, in June of 2018, I finally reached the end of my six-month contract for pumping breastmilk for Surrobaby #3 and I started working at my current job at the hospital. I am a CNA and it just so happens that this hospital is where all the surrogate babies were born IRL. I have been super lucky and I now work in that very department, which is where I have wanted to work all my life!  Serious life goals, guys. But as you all know, nurses work insane shifts and long hours. I work overnights, 13 hours at a time, and so writing slowed down even more since I was now working my first job outside of the home in about 9 years. For the next few months, chapters are still being posted, but much more slowly.  

Things are moving along great... I’m still writing, albeit a bit more slowly, but chapters are still being posted 

April 2018 comes and my grandpa dies... my emotions took a huge hit. I had grown up very close to my grandpa and I couldn’t write happy things when I was in such a sad place. It was rough. 

Writing slows even more over the summer, but I am still writing, still posting, still planning, still rough drafting, still plotting scenes, and still writing dialogue.

September 2, 2018 - I meet HIM. I don’t want to give out his real name, so we’ll just call him William. I will never ever forget that night. I wasn’t even supposed to be at work that night; it was my night off but they had sent out a text that they needed help, so I picked up an extra shift. Around midnight I got a call that they needed me to pass off my patients so that I could go down to the ER and be a 1:1 for a patient suffering a panic attack. I gather up my things, head down to the ER, get my assignment, go to his room, and...

That was that. He had been sobbing and when he looked up and saw me, he suddenly took one last big breath and stopped crying. He calmed. We got to talking over the course of the night and it was like we had known each other for millennia. We were immediately comfortable with each other, had each other's sense of humor, shared similar life experiences, you name it. This was the night I met my best friend.

He was still hardcore in the middle of a panic attack and didn’t like to be touched, but somehow I was allowed to touch. He openly admits to how much he despises hospitals and no one was allowed in the room, but somehow was calm when I was there. Do you believe in fate? Cause I do.

A week goes by and we now are either talking/texting/video chatting/instant messaging all day and all night, about anything and everything. Our phone calls go on for HOURS and often would end up talking all through the night. Turns out that he has severe anxiety and hasn’t left his house in over two years. Neither of us could believe how quickly we connected and bonded, but the new friendship was a blessing for him and me both. Because of his anxiety and tendency to call/text/message me if a panic attack hit, he earned his own ringtone, text notification sound, and custom volume so that if he called or texted in the middle of the night, or if I was out in a busy area, it would wake me up or ring loud enough so that I could stop and answer. 

September 18, 2018 - Two weeks after meeting William, my world gets turned upside down. I lose my mom. She was only 52 years old and died very unexpectedly from sudden liver death. I was DEVASTATED.  William was there for me throughout the whole thing, something I didn’t expect since we had just met barely two weeks earlier. In fact, one of the last things my mom ever said to me was “make sure you take care of that sweet boy”. I’ll never forget it. 

After my mom died I didn’t feel like writing for a long time. Again, it’s hard to write happy things when you feel so sad and shocked. 

So this past year goes by and things level to a norm. William’s depression and anxiety waxes and wanes. We’d hang out in person at his house sometimes, mostly just making fun of each other and enjoying each other’s company. We still talk and text multiple times every day, and had gotten into a habit of sleeping while on the phone.

Then mid-October this year, something changed. We still do all of our normal stuff but he had started to say that he hated not being able to leave his house, hated the way he felt, hated not being able to do stuff, felt like a failure and a coward, etc. All things he has said before, but this time was just hitting him so much worse.

The night of October 22nd is when things really changed. To me, that’s the day I had breast reduction surgery, but that’s also the day communication between us stopped. He stopped calling, he stopped texting, we no longer messaged or chatted on discord... He was gone. 

Let me tell you that this felt exactly like another death. How could I lose someone I was so close to? Did I say something wrong, did I do something wrong, did I make him feel bad, did I scare him somehow... all these questions were running thru my head, constantly, throughout the days.

One night I texted him that we needed to talk so he called and sort of, got onto me. He said that I did nothing wrong, that I didn’t say or do anything, that he just couldn’t handle things very well at the moment and he would see texts but just didn’t have it in him to reply. He lacked the energy to call and carry on a conversation. didn’t want to do anything but be by himself. He told me that he loves me and that he misses me, but this is just how it gets sometimes. it just be like that.  

I understood. Depression fucking sucks and it just sucks the soul right out of you sometimes. I was there for him but right now, he just needed alone time... something he hadn’t required in over a year... and something I definitely was not used to. 

So there I sit this past Saturday night at work, thinking about my fic and writing dialogue in my head like I had been the last few weeks when it hits me. 

‘Oh my God,’ I thought to myself. ‘I just figured out why I write fic and why I had stopped for a bit... until now.’   

IT FILLS A HOLE OF LONELINESS AND LONGING!

I texted @ohfrickfanfic and she replied, “you were lacking male attention so you made up for it by writing fic but then you met William and he filled the void but now he’s not giving you as much attention so you feel you need to fill that void again.”

I’ll be damned if she’s not 100% right. I had love. I had someone who loved me, someone who genuinely cared about me and for me, asked how I was, loved my family, wanted to know what I was up to, took interest in my life, valued my opinions, asked my advice and took it to heart, called me his, called me pet names, gave me hugs and kissed my forehead. 

When it suddenly stopped, ngl I cried quite a few times. I was heartbroken. I went into my own depression and that is when I got the want to start writing again. I’ve always wanted to write and finish SJLT, but now the urge is there. 

Things are slowly getting better. He calls every now and then... more often all the time. He teases me and texts sometimes and sends me messages on snapchat, just not NEARLY as often as before. It’s been over a month since I’ve seen his face and I hate it, but I can see my best friend slowly coming back to life. It’s tough because I miss him so fucking much, but he’s coming around and trying to battle his anxiety. 

As far as the fic goes, I NEVER gave up on Something Just Like This and it WILL be a finished fic if it kills me. As it stands now, there are only about 3-4 more chapters to go before the fic is finished, and I would like to get it out before the new year... again, before Tyler Joseph steals all of my ideas that I’ve had planned for Josh for over two years. *shakes another fist at Tyler*

I really do appreciate all of you sticking with me and the fic for this long. Allowing me to grieve the loss of my loved ones and asking for updates on the fic... it lets me know that you like it and that my work is wanted.

I won’t let you down. 

[ae-diaries]

My Life Testimony

Warning: Long post ahead

The content of this blog has me holding a secret I've kept hidden for a long time. I'm a bit hesitant to share my personal story because others (who knew me already) may be shocked or turned off 😅, but hopefully, the thoughts would bless someone and help you face your weaknesses and rise above them. This is a celebration of the greatest miracle I received from God. I never thought that miracle was real, until circumstances proved that it is possible. 

Foremost in my mind is when I was a high school kid. My life was symbolized by the microphone; I’d been exposed to sing in front of a crowd, be it in school or amateur singing contests. It's not to boast but it felt like I was a singing sensation back then, others dubbed me as 'songbird', 'sweet nightingale' to name a few 🤣. But when no one's looking, I felt, for lack of a better description, just off. This was caused by a certain physical condition that tear down my self-image. 

It all began when my mother noticed that I had an uneven shoulders when I was 13 years old. Later on, I was diagnosed with scoliosis measuring a 20-degree curve, and so my doctor from PGH gave me various stretching exercises and required me to wear a brace to prevent the curve from worsening or else surgery awaits me.

I freaked out inside. At the back of my mind, I wondered, “Why me?”. From then on, a hidden scar symbolizes my 'private' life. People might not notice it, but really I was riddled with inferiority complex and lack of self-worth. Nakakaiyak isipin, imagine ako lang bukod tanging estudyante sa private skul na may ganitong klaseng kundisyon. How I pitied myself. Parang ayoko nang lumabas. Hiyang hiya ako. 

I usually cried and pahirapan pa every time my mother would be putting the brace into my body, kabilinbilinan niya wag ko daw aalisin para daw mapabilis paggaling ko, but there was this one time, while I was on my way to school, naisipan kong dumaan muna sa haus ng classmate ko para lang ipatago yung brace ko. And it happened many times. Ang bigat nyang dalhin, di lang sa katawan kundi pati narin sa kalooban. Later on, they found out what I was doing, until wala na silang nagawa sa tigas ng ulo ko. Fortunately, my classmates did not bully me in school; however, I was still very conscious and afraid that my crush would see me like a bionic kid. To this day, I have never told my parents about this reason. You know as a teenager, I was overly sensitive by the opinion of others. And that's all that matters to me. I didn't think of the consequences of this action. 

Fast forward to 2012, sabi nila end of the world na this year (according to Mayan calendar), feeling ko katapusan ko nadin when I went back to the doctor and learned that the deformity progressed to over 50 degrees. Reality finally hit me! A major surgery was needed to correct my S-curved spine. Why I didn't just wear that darn thing? I must admit nagpabaya ako as I was trying to live like a normal kid. At that time, I was already employed in my first job so I filed for a two-month leave. Luckily, my very understanding boss approved it. I also had an amazing orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Teodoro Castro, who explained to me the procedure (though it was as clear as mud to me). He was very reassuring, so I didn't get scared. 

And when he asked, "Kelan mo gusto magpa-opera?," Without a second thought, I replied, "Kahit po bukas na doc!". My thoughts were, "If not now, when pa?"( I felt like I was running out of time.) His eyes bulged upon hearing my immediate response! And so he set the schedule to May 16, 1 p.m (which I spent at Sta. Teresita General Hospital in Quezon City). 

It was exciting, really, though it had 'Final Destination' feels. Andaming 'what ifs', what if di ako maka-survive? Bigla kong naisip talagang 'life is short' at ang dami ko pa palang di nagagawa sa mundong ibabaw such as makapag-serve kay God through joining a spiritual ministry, to travel for a cause, makapag-abroad, makakanta sa tv, makita si Regine & Sarah, magamit license ko to teach students, maigala ang magulang ko, and to have my own family. Sana magawa ko pa ang mga ito after post-op. 

More so, I felt my family's collective fear; I could actually hear the loud beating of my parents' chest when they signed the waiver 🤣. My father had worries that my voice might deteriorate after the operation. Laying in my bed and knowing that I may be that close to dying, I delivered my prayer of surrender to God and remained fearless. The comforting lyrics of 'You made me Stronger' by Kelly Clarkson became my fight song while in the hospital.

Waking up after the operation was the highlight. Being groggy from the anesthesia, I opened my eyes, feeling like it's just a continuation of my short sleep. I saw the nurses and my family - patiently waiting for me to wake up for almost 6 hours na daw. The first thing I asked was, "Tapos na?" (many times). I felt a huge sigh of relief when they uttered the words that struck me to the core, "Oo, tapos na." S*** I couldn't believe my ears; I was flying with joy! For years I have prayed for this miracle. I wanted to shout and do any dance challenge, 🤣 but how could I do that? They were preventing me from talking yet or make any movements because a mask was surrounding my nose and a lot of apparatuses were attached to my body. Later on, I learned that my younger brother cried after seeing me survived the operation. May kadramahan din pala si brother na lagi kong kabangayan 😂. While the success of my operation wouldn't be possible if it weren't for the assistance provided by my father's company, DMCI Corp. That's why I'll always be indebted to their big boss, VAC (May his soul rest in peace).

My healing lasted for almost nine months. I never suffered from complications, just pure torture and regrets na sana di nalang ako nagpa-opera (huhu). This is no exaggeration but dinaig ko pa talaga ang na-cesarean. On the first month after my operation, I became disabled and reached levels of pain I thought never existed in human experience: It was difficult to breath; I could not stand and walk on my own; I became excessively skinny because of drug intake - this was a legal drug prescribed by my doctor which can remove the pain only for 4-6 hrs. It felt so pathetic and frustrating to see myself in front of the mirror. No matter how much I tried to be positive, my insecurities gripped me down again and again to the point of questioning God: "Is there a hope for me?", 

"How come others could breathe and walk so well? During these times, inggit na inggit ako sa mga taong nakakalakad at nakakahinga ng maluwag. Feeling ko life is so unfair. Somewhere deep inside, I believed I was ugly, that He really didn't like me and it was His punishment for all the sins I did in the past. As I poured out my grief before God, a question popped in my head: “Mira, give me reasons why you should remain grateful?.”

“Seriously, how can I be grateful in times like this?.”

But in those agonizing moments, a light of hope from my parents’ eyes illuminates my darkness. 

In all the times that I cried and complained, I never saw them get too tired to feed me or serve me even if it would make them uncomfortable to make me comfortable. I couldn't imagine how they felt when I looked down on myself. Aside from my parents, my siblings, concerned relatives and genuine friends also never left my side. It's as if they became my extra pair of legs when mine refuse to walk. And my heart is full of gratitude today because they have loved me during the times that I didn't love myself. 

I'm living a normal life now as if nothing happened but others observed that except for my angelic voice 🤣, I tend to become forgetful and a little bit of deaf (Yes to this level) - this was probably caused by my extra dose of antibiotics intake 🤣. They noticed that I walk with lightning speed, as if may hinahabol daw ako lagi - maybe subconsciously, this has something to do with my life goals. Yes, I do get tired easier that's why there are some things that I must not do such as lifting heavy objects, sport activities (except for swimming), washing a mountain of clothes 🤣, bawal ma-stress and ma-exposed sa extreme cold places 😅.

As they say, true wisdom is learning from your shortcomings. For everything that I'd been through, I realized that there's a lesson hidden underneath the pain and it was God's way for me to:

(1) strengthen my faith - It was through this difficult times that I also underwent a 'spiritual surgery/enlightenment'. It has helped me find my stride in God and pray like I have never prayed before (for I know nakalimot ako). I didn't know all His plans but surely He was turning my brokenness into greatness. 

(2) love myself, invest in my relationships and create good memories - The whole discernment gave me the courage to keep progressing. I began to accept my imperfections, pick up my self-esteem, and do the things I haven't done before: Much is to be done but so far, I already saw Miss Regine and Sarah in person, traveled to different places, got to teach students in schools, treat my parents - brought  them to concerts and resto; spent midnight snacks and watched movies with my siblings; hang-out with friends; reunited with a long lost friend; restored a broken relationship, and tried to forgive someone;

(3) appreciate the fine details of life - More and more, my wishes become simpler. I realized there is more to life than any material thing could give, and that is getting enough oxygen and optimal healing to every organ in my body. Sobra kong na-appreciate ang buhay ko, especially the air I breathe, and the legs that carry me everywhere.

Eto lang sapat na 'to be happy'. Why did I fail to notice this before? And that's also what I want to ask you, when was the last time you were thankful for the air around you? True to what they say, the best things in life are free, but the problem is we're not contented with what we have and complicate rules to experiencing happiness: “I will be happy only if I’ll be able to upgrade my phone, buy a latest collection of chanel bag, wear a new pair of sketchers shoes..” And I'm so guilty of it because I once was a shoppaholic before that I forgot to remember how 'enough' I truly have.   

As I look back, hagulhol nako sa iyak - there were tears in my eyes, but they were no longer tears of pain but tears of gratitude - thinking how would I survive without the amazing people in my life.

I believe that God wants me to write this article so that I could speak for Him and claim that today, I can go out without any worries because I'm no longer ashamed of the scar life has left me with. It's a blessing in disguise; a sign that I conquered pain and fear. Wala na sigurong pagsubok na di ko kakayanin dahil kinaya ko na yung 'pinakamahirap' because truly, life is about not giving up and trying to fix yourself up after every fall. 

I cannot make the scar disappear but by looking at it, I see a testimony of survival, inner strength and God's miracles. Jesus never said it wouldn't be easy, but He said it would be worth it!  - Matt. 7:13

#secondlife #lifetestimony #embracingmyscar