#this is playing on a loop in my head it won’t let me sleep

[sommerregenjuniluft]

i don’t talk abt Feelings, alfred. i don’t have any, i’ve never seen one. i’m a night stalking, crime fighting vigilante and a heavy metal rapping machine. i dont feel anything emotionally except for rage. 24/7, 365, at a million percent. and if you think that there’s something behind that, then you’re crazy. good night, alfred.

[mikodrawnnarratives]

Have some art + fic rn cuz i had this idea plaguing me for a whlie in my first playthrough of the game and i needed to have it realized.

I don't want to edit my writing just yet so i'll do that later, but for now have some mentally unstable Siffrin 👍

I'll come up with a title ltr, prob when i edit this and post to ao3 (so if this gets reblogs just check out the og post for latest ver.)

For now the warnings you should know of are just character death, lots of Siff hating himself, and i think suicide ideation? I wrote this a few hours ago n still don't want to go back just yet but basically its nothing that doesn't already exist in the game

Fic starts under the cut! Roughly 2000 words

(edit: i forgor some colors don't exist/can't be seen 🤡, fixed now!)

Siffrin can’t seem to fall asleep at all anymore. The night right before the loops he can only pretend to get some rest before facing the king. He isn’t quite sure what the reason is. Being stuck in one place for too long? Useless? His urges to reach out for Isa’s touch that keep him awake at night, yearning for connection that is immediately are followed by disgust in himself?  The pure exhaustion at the thought of repeating the next day again? None seem to be the answer. Maybe its a combination.

He only knows that he’s exhausted. Exhausted, yet unable to rest. Even if he were able, would he want to risk what ever dream or nightmare his head might concoct? A blend of memories and deaths to remind him that he can’t escape?

Not being able to sleep makes them worse at the loops too unfortunately. They got along fine for the first few loops after his first sleepless night, though the mistakes ramped up. They cursed their body, cursed themself for being so weak. Simple and stupid mistakes getting them killed via boulder when they forgot and slip of the hand resulting in the weakest of Sadnesses offing him.

Loop of course taunted about his failures, like they always do. He couldn’t fully blame them, knowing deep down he deserved it. There was a pull he sometimes had though, to rest with them, even for just a little bit. He’s hung out with them before, when it gets overwhelming, never for very long. Despite that, to actually sleep with them is a different story. Different vulnerability that, he wasn’t comfortable with. Too weak, he didn’t need another thing for Loop to tease him about. No matter how tempting it would be to sit in the tree and doze off. He wouldn’t doubt that, if he could rest at this point, he would doze off until the next loop.

He can’t have that. He can’t let his family die again.

The next loop began, the stage set, and Siff opened his eye, despite every ache in their body telling them not too. They can’t listen to their body right now though. They need to travel the entire house in the next few loops for anything he might have missed before. One more sweep. 

He carries out his lines, plays the role he’s meant, rehearsing the other actor’s lines in his head before they speak up. Familiar steps, expressions, directions. When they get to Isabeau, they slip up again, Isa’s concern blooms. But they’ve seen this before. It’ll be fine. Their gut twists at forcing Isa to be concerned, but theres a warmth in it too. That Isa cares. Cares about them. It’s strange, when Odile gets close to the truth, stars when she FINDS OUT the truth, there isn’t any warmth. Just, fear. But knowing Isa won’t find out, just cares and makes them promise to talk about it at a time they know won’t come, it’s a guilty pleasure. At least, for now. Before it becomes meshed with all the other lines Siffrin has come to expect from The Fighter.

While navigation the House like normal, they slip up occasionally, interacting with objects that spark Odile’s concern. They don’t bother reversing the mistakes, he hasn’t slipped up that much. There’s no way she could know. Siff crumbled on the first floor at the counter they jabbed themself into again. Unable to see it and always stupidly forgetting to be cautious there. Stupid. 

And they kept making mistakes. Their exhaustion pulling at their body, their nerves eating them alive. There’s no warmth with new lines of concern from their actors. Just spikes of panic followed by their attempts to reassure them. To continue on.

By the final snack stop before the King, their actor’s change the script again. Siffrin tensed, their hand tracing the handle of their dagger in case of emergency. Odile… odile doesn’t call out suspicious connections to time craft this time. Everyone just.. Just asks him to nap.

The third floor they had fumbled the most, their quick grabs at the keys became more clumsy against his will. His hands can’t stop shaking. The aches won’t cease their whining in his body. Change, of course they noticed, they aren’t blind. The script is similar, repeating the words that simultaneously warm his body and send nausea through it. They’re a family. They care.

Absently, Siffrin notes Mira’s asking him if he’ll accept a comb, again. At least that’s familiar. At least one of them new the script to stick to. And, he really wouldn’t mind it again. The loops reset his hair back to the tangled and knotted mess it was when he startled back to awareness in Dormont. Everytime. Sometimes they briefly wondered if Mirabelle would comb their hair out back in town too. They would never ask though.

Their family quietly chated as Mirabelle combed through his hair. Gently, dare they think lovingly. Careful not to hurt him. Like he’s fragile and weak. Pathetic. They are pathetic aren’t they. For wanting this. Selfish for forcing them. Their hands continued to tremble, as much as Siff tried to suppress it.

The Fighter changes the script first. First to notice. Notice a slip up. They tense, not for any particular reason just, they don’t know this script. The Fighter’s face is concerned but softens. Isa. Isa asked hesitantly it he could see their hands. Siff let him, letting their pathetic shaking hands be engulfed in Isa’s large ones. He hesitantly rubs their knuckles, Mira continues to brush the tangles out of their hair. Siff’s eyelid got heavier, their body screaming to just let go, just relax. They haven’t reached the king yet, the head housemaid, they can’t yet. 

When they heard Odile close her book, another off script action, they jolted up and looked her way. Odile was about to speak up, but hesitated at their startled form. Her concerned and piercing expression remained.

“Siffrin, did you get any rest at all last night?”

They stop and meekly speak up, “I slept..”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Siffrin grimaced, tensing up. “I got.. Some rest. Why do you ask?”

“The fumbling around and absent performance don’t suggest you did.”

She had them there. Their fingers twitch as they internally remind themselves their dagger is still on their person. Even if their hands are occupied with being held by Isa’s. They take a breath.

The other actors contribute, sharing their nerves about facing the King. Needing to be ready before confronting the Threat, that could be their final standing place. No. No they won’t fail. They won’t die here. He might, but he won’t let his family.

Odile is actually the first to suggest Siffrin rest before they face the King. They can’t have any weak links before such a moment. Weak members. Weak. They were clumsy this loop. Their other family members share in the sentiment. They probably think he’s weak too. Their concerned smiles are hard to say no to though. The aches and exhaustion overwhelming his body probably wouldn’t let him refuse such an opportunity either. Surely. Surely they went through the first couple floors quick enough that another fifteen minutes before the king wouldn’t be too long. Right?

It’s a thought that didn’t seem to cross his family member’s faces when he gave into their requests and laid down. Mira scooted over, getting started on the next clump of tangled hair. Isa offered his lap as a pillow, and Siffrin’s slow mind just. Accepts the request. Not noting the dark shade flooding The Fighter’s face as they dragged their body to his lap, their head and partial upper body relaxing immediately. They rest their head on their blind side, one hand interlaced with The Fighter’s, behind them Mira finishing off the last of their tangles. The concern from their family’s faces hasn’t completely disappeared, but it’s eased. And that is enough to release the remaining tension in his body. It’s enough. 

Their family makes a few jokes that their brain muffles. Some laughing. Bonnie’s working on their snacks in the corner, still. They’ll be ready when they wake up. Their legs adjusted and placed in someone else’s lap, they think. Whoever it was, rubs circles into their calf. His eyelid grows heavier, their breathes come easy. Deep breaths. Someone rubs their back. 

It’s nice. Really.. really nice. One could easily forget they were even about to face the King at all. Face the end. They close their eyelid. It’s warm. One breath in. And out. Just.. just a quick nap. Where they are loved. They.. they are loved right? This is what this means… at least right now…

Yeah. They hope this is right.

Sleep engulfs them for the first time in several loops and their breaths slow.

The chatting continues around him, not lacking some glances exchanged between the adults in the room. But mostly, just relief fills the air. Mira stayed by Siffrin’s side, threading her fingers through his now completely combed out hair. The flush in Isabeau’s cheeks still hadn’t fully left, every movement reminding him of his crush resting so peacefully in his lap. Like a sleeping cat that once it has claimed you as it’s cushion, you are bound by the universe to not move for any reason. Odile didn’t pass up the opportunity to tease him, met with Isa’s shushing and hushed whisper “what if he wakes up and hears you!!”

Siff had done a lot today, and everyone would have assumed he was completely calm about fighting the king if not for his uncharacteristic clumsiness. Mirabelle supposed it made sense though. A night of rough sleep right before facing the most dangerous threat facing the country? That would make anyone mess up.

After another twenty minutes, Bonnie comes over with the freshly prepared snacks. Made extra special since they were more ahead of schedule than expected. Last hurrah before the king, everyone needed to be at their best.

Mirabelle smiles, heading over to were Bonnie had announced the snacks. Isa attempts to move but flounders at the idea of moving Siff. Mirabelle giggles at his flushing face as Odile moves their legs out of their lap. Well, time to end their nap she supposes. Their sleepy family member probably won’t be too thrilled about waking up but it is snack time.

Mirabelle collects her choice of snack and crouches over to Siff, moving their hat from where it had obscured their resting expression. Isa looked both upset to have the time his crush sleeps on their lap come to an end, and relieved. He lets out a chuckle as Mira gently shakes their shoulder.

“Time to wake up, Siffrin! Bonnie has snacks for everyone.” Mira moves a few hairs out of their face. “Siffrin?”

Isabeau adjusts, and joins in. “Siff? Sorry to wake you bud but..” He pauses, seeing Mirabelle’s face shift. Odile’s gaze sharpens as Mirabelle’s leans over them, placing her ear to their chest.

“They- th-they aren’t” Mira cries out. “They aren’t breathing! No no no-” 

Isabeau moves Siffrin off his lap with shaking hands. Odile rushes over to their side, checking their wrist and neck for a pulse. Bonnie’s face crumbles in the corner, alarm replacing the happy air.

Isabeau shakes Siffrin’s still body, Mirabelle readies a heal craft as Odile begins to try resuscitating them.

but 

the 

world

goes

blank

Siffrin first feels the gentle breeze around them. The grass moving in tune, sometimes brushing up against the small areas their clothes don’t cover. They hear Mirabelle in the distance and when they open their eyes, she’s right above them, apologetic for waking them. Siffrin blinks. It’s been a while since Mira’s been the one to wake them up. 

“Good morning! Well, more like good afternoon, I gue- wow. Are you okay?”

That’s new. Why would her lines-

“You’re crying.. Is something wrong, Siffrin?”

He blinks and brings a hand to his face. Sure enough, his cheek is stained with tears. He doesn’t remember crying, he just woke up too. From..

“Must’ve happened in my sleep” He says absently.

Mira frowns, “Oh no! What did you dream about…?”

Siffrin shrugs and repeats lines he remembers that will reassure her the quickest. She sighs and returns back to town. They’ll be waiting for him.

He takes a moment to think about what happened in the last loop. He.. doesn’t remember dying. Must have been when he went to sleep. That. That probably should worry him, that falling asleep could end a loop, but he doesn’t feel any regret about it. Actually, it’d be nice if all his loops ended like that. Just, dying with his loved ones around. It would take too long though, even if it could happen again. This loop needs to be faster. Last loop they didn’t even reach the king, and they have questions. 

He grumbles as he sits up, a part of him yearning to go back to that warmth. Oh if only the universe could have let it be permanent. A permanent death that didn’t even hurt. That’s wishful thinking though, the universe isn’t so kind. And they have work to do, his family- actors. They need what he knows. He can’t rest forever yet.

The show must go on.

[queenimmadolla]

𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃

(dad!eddie x mom/pregnant!reader)

*NOT Mature, SFW — incorrectly flagged

𝐏𝐀𝐑���� 𝟏 ─ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 ─ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟑 • more of the pennyverse here.

Summary: . . . After almost losing you in a scare related to your preterm labor, Eddie is reluctant to meet his newborn son, whose life still remains on the line, until some convincing from you. warnings: angst, a whole lot of angst, near death experience, difficult pregnancy, early labor, preterm birth, talk of loss of infants, birth defects, happy ending.

a/n: congrats on making it to part two! we still have quite a bit of angst to get through but we're almost through the storm! this part (even though i wrote Wayne's World as a whole) was my favorite to write, and i'm sure you'll be able to guess why. word count is 6k. good luck and happy reading! and for the people mad about the long post, sorry, had the 'keep reading' tab on but it kept fucking with the format and eating chunks of it. you're gonna have to scroll. let me know what you think? ◡̈

Hours passed by, Penny had fallen asleep in his lap again and so had most of his friends with the exceptions of Jonathan who looked like he could really use the sleep, Eden and Wayne. Steve would snap awake every once and a while, careful not to jostle his sleeping girlfriend. Nancy was asleep on Jonathan’s shoulder while Argyle used Eden’s lap for a pillow. Barb and Robin were hanging off chairs in the most uncomfortable looking positions, Robin’s snores almost painful sounding. The ‘kids’ (teenagers) had been picked up by their parents, only agreeing to go home if they could come back to wait with him first thing in the morning. 

  Eddie didn’t rest for a single second, mind torturing him with horrible, horrible thoughts. One played in his mind on loop; he was holding Penny as he walked out of the hospital. They were on their own.

  It held him captive, he hadn’t even noticed your doctor approaching him until she gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Mr. Munson?”

  Wayne and Eddie traded quick glances and he handed Penny over, trying not to disturb her too much in his rush but she just curled up to Wayne.

  Eddie stood up, already feeling lightheaded. That voice in his head that had been torturing him whispered something cruel to him, enough to make him want to cease existing: maybe you, somewhere in this hospital, already gone and he didn’t know it. Was she about to confirm his worst fears?

  “I apologize for the fright we gave you. Your wife started hemorrhaging and she lost a lot of blood.”

  Yeah. Eddie’s world was ending. It was over.

  “But we were able to stop the bleeding and get her a transfusion. She’s stable and she’s going to be just fine.”

  The relief was almost crippling, the heaviest weight he’d ever felt on him was lifted. Eddie wanted to cry, he squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to compose himself before he broke down in front of another doctor.

  “We have her in a room, probably hold her for a couple of nights, depending on her recovery. Would you like to go see her?”

  “Yeah, yes, please.” He nodded rapidly, wiping furiously at his eyes. 

  Dr. Eisenberg nodded and began walking down the hall, “If you’ll follow me.”

  Eddie turned, ready to ask Wayne to look after Penny when Wayne cut him off, “Go. I'll let ‘em all know she’s okay and send ‘em home. They probably won’t be able to see her tonight or in the mornin’, but I’ll stick around. Let me know when I can come on up.”

  Eddie wanted to hug him, but he really needed to see you. 

  “Thank you, Wayne. For everything.” Then he was scrambling after Dr. Eisenberg, who had stopped to wait for him.

  The walk to your hospital room had Eddie ready to tear his hair out, he’d wanted to just ask your doctor for your room number so he could sprint the rest of the way because her pace was much too slow. He was desperate to get to you, to make sure you were really still alive.

  “Here we are,” she stated, pushing your room door open. “Hello, again, Mrs. Munson. I brought someone who’s been waiting for you.”

  Eddie’s breath hitched as Dr. Eisenberg stepped to the side and he finally saw you, eyelids heavy from whatever sedation you were still trying to pull yourself from, and a smile on your face that only widened when you locked eyes. 

  “Hi, baby,” you slurred, sleepy little smile not going anywhere. And neither were you. 

  The rush of emotions he was experiencing was too much, he burst into tears where he stood as Dr. Eisenberg closed the door behind her on her way out. 

  “Eddie…” you mumbled out, reaching the hand lacking an IV out to him. 

  Of course you were trying to comfort him, you were the one confined to a hospital bed, having just barely survived a traumatic birth and you were still trying to comfort him because you were perfect. 

  He slowly approached your bed, hot tears—he was surprised his body could even still produce more tears given how much he’d cried in the last few hours alone—streaming down his cheek. Eddie really did collapse when he reached you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

  You wrapped your arms around him, holding him to your chest as best as you could, though you had no idea why he was crying, brain too hazy.

  Eddie didn’t sob, just silently shook as he wet your neck, inhaled your scent, felt your warm skin and pulse beating beneath his lips. He hadn’t lost you, you were still here.

  Ideally, he’d be holding you and squeezing you hard enough to ensure you’d never leave his arms again, but even in his emotional hysteria, he was mindful of your condition.

  Eddie pulled away, large hands framing your face as he pressed desperate kisses all over your face, making sure every inch was caressed with his love before he focused on your lips, mouth meshing messily against yours.

  You could taste the salt of his tears, feel a couple of stray ones catching where your lips met. While he may have been feeling a mixture of emotions, all you could feel right then was content and still a bit sleepy from the anesthesia.

  When Eddie felt he’d conveyed his love for you sufficiently, he pulled away, a wet and hoarse chuckle escaping him when he realized you could barely keep your eyes open.

  “You sleepy, baby?”

  “Mhmm.”

  “Get some rest, sweetheart,” Eddie’s thumb stroked over your bottom lip before resting over the center of it, “just, please wake up.”

  “Okay,” you mumbled, eyes already shut. Still, you managed to press a kiss to his thumb before you slipped into a blissful slumber.

  While you slept, Eddie had one of the nurses phone up the waiting room and sent Wayne. The poor man looked exhausted, but the relief on his face was evident when he saw you sleeping peacefully. 

   He looked like he wanted to cry, too. Instead, he just cleared his throat, blinked to keep the tears away and spoke low so as to not disturb you or the sleeping toddler in his arms.

  “Everythin’ alright?”

  “With her?” Eddie’s red rimmed gaze drifted back to you, focused on the rise and fall of your chest. Still breathing, “Yeah.”

  Wayne nodded once and they both stood there in silence for a few minutes as the world began to turn again. Something still wasn’t right, felt wrong. He could tell by the tension his boy still had, arms crossed as he crouched in the seat next to your bed. 

  “And the baby?”

  Eddie flinched as if Wayne had shot a gun off in the air rather than mention his son.

  “I don’t know.”

  Wayne watched him with a careful eye, Eddie looked almost like he was vibrating from the force at which his leg was shaking, even your hospital bed appeared to be affected by it, though not nearly enough to disturb you.

  As much as he wanted to comfort him, for once, Wayne didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what to say and he had an inkling that anything that came out of his mouth wouldn’t be heard by Eddie. He was lost in the dark crevices of his own mind. 

  The most he could do was offer to give him some alone time, he was sure his boy wasn’t keen on others sticking around right now, even him. 

  “I’ll take Penny home, me and Maude’ll watch her.” 

  Eddie shook his head, a look of panic flashing over his face, “No, that’s alright. She can stay with me.”

  Wayne was reluctant, mouth set in a frown. Penny was a good girl, usually, but he didn’t know if Eddie could really handle her along with processing everything going on around him.

  “Really, we wouldn’t mind─”

  “I need her.” 

  That shut Wayne right up, he and Eddie shuffled to exchange Penny from his arms to her dad’s without waking her. She stirred momentarily then shoved her face into Eddie’s neck, her little body falling slack once more.

  Wayne gave his shoulder a good squeeze, ran his hand gently over Penny’s back before he leaned down—and in a rare show of affection—pressed a brief kiss to your forehead.

  As he was walking out of the room, Eddie felt the panic crawling down his throat again. He croaked out a broken, “Wayne─”

  Wayne paused in the doorway, turning to acknowledge Eddie but his nephew didn’t continue, just looked scared. For a moment, Wayne was caught off guard, sucking in a breath as his boy looked young for the first time in a couple of years. 

  Now, he knew you and Eddie were young. He’d been aware of it when you got together, aware of it when you told him you were pregnant with Penny but sometime after that, he stopped seeing your age, stopped seeing Eddie’s as the two of you grew up for her. Now, right then, he remembered with startling clarity that Eddie wasn’t even twenty-five. He looked so young because he was.

  Eddie didn’t have to say anything else because Wayne knew exactly what he wanted him to say.

  Wayne nodded slowly, mouth pressing into a firm line of determination, “Everything’s gonna be alright, kid.”

  Eddie choked up, held Penny a little tighter and Wayne went on his way.

  He found himself settling back into the seat he’d dragged near your bed, cradling Penny as she remained blissfully unaware and drooling on his scrub top.

  Wayne wasn’t wrong, she’d probably be a little too much for him but she was his kid, it wasn't like he could just hand her off to people when life came at him like this and he really did need her right now. Again.

  You were here and whole, but somewhere else in this hospital, a member of his little family was still slipping through his fingers. He couldn’t let the other one out of his sight, couldn’t lose her, too.

  Once more, Eddie remained restless as the hours passed. He sat in mostly silence. He’d turned on the tv near your bed, the volume high enough to drown out the sounds of the hospital outside of the room but much too low to wake you. Rain trilled against the windows, much more gentle than it had been earlier. The storm had also passed, and if there was even an ounce of humor in him, he would have been amused with how this storm seemed to fester like a black cloud looming over him. 

  It’d been a normal day up until he’d gone to Lucas’ birthday party, but he’d been skeptical about leaving you, worried something would happen. The metaphorical little black cloud formed over him, as a result, and so did the actual black clouds, quickly calling for wind and rain at high speeds. 

  And when Eddie had found out you were okay, you were alive, his black cloud disappeared, though it left behind damage and a cold atmosphere. The real storm had also run its course, leaving behind weather that reflected exactly how Eddie felt.

  Penny squirmed in his grasp, and he realized he’d tensed up so he quickly relaxed, shifting her into a more comfortable position in his hold. 

  “Why don’t you give her to me?”

  Eddie’s head snapped over to you, surprised to find you awake, somewhat lucid and watching him with a small smile on your face.

  “Because you just had your insides removed and put back in,” He smirked, another wave of relief washing over him. You’d woken up, you really were okay. You weren’t going to leave him.

  You rolled your eyes, making a vague hand gesture to brush the subject off, clearly the surgeons hadn’t removed your sass.

  “She’s tiny and there’s more than enough room on here for both of us.” You hissed as you slowly shimmied your way to the side of the bed and Eddie frowned.

  “Okay, how about you don’t move so we can limit the amount of heart attacks you give me today, yeah?” You knew Eddie must have been worried so you didn’t take the lack of humor behind his words and the tension on his face personally. 

  A quick glance at the clock confirmed your suspicions, “It’s three in the morning, Eddie. New day, but I’ll keep my antics to a minimum.”

  Insistently, you patted the spot next to you, perfectly Penny sized and high enough to guarantee she wouldn’t accidentally move against your incision.

  With a sigh, Eddie complied, gathering his daughter up. Tensing up disturbed her but full on moving her didn’t, most likely used to being carried into your home after she’d fallen asleep in her car seat or on the couch.

  She didn’t stir when he laid her down, either. You both had to rearrange her limbs into a more comfortable position, one that didn’t make it look like she was possessed. Once Eddie tucked her in, he let out another sigh and cast you an apologetic look, big brown eyes wide, glassy and full of sorrow.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.” It was the last thing you deserved after what you’d gone through.

  The sincerity in his voice almost hurt you, it was heavy, as though it carried more weight than just a simple apology for his tone. 

  You held out your hand and Eddie immediately slipped his over it, locking his fingers with yours, squeezing as his breath hitched. 

  Your hand was so warm and soft. At one point in the last twenty-four hours, he’d thought he’d never get to feel it again, never get to hold your hand or see your pretty face. Never get to say…

  “I love you,” he blurted out, the panic he’d felt earlier when he couldn’t remember the last time he’d said those three words to you climbed right out of his belly, trying to claw its way out of his chest. Eddie took in a shuddering breath, head shaking as a hot tear escaped its confinement, trailing down his cheek. He moved to the other side of the hospital bed, so he wouldn’t crush Penny, and took your face in his hands, pressing a passionate kiss to your lips, hoping he was able to convey just how much he loved you.

  He needed you to know.

  “Eddie,” you mumbled as he pulled away, only to hide himself in the crook of your neck again. You could feel his tears against your skin and it alarmed you. “I love you, too, baby. What’s wrong?”

  “I thought I was going to lose you,” he confessed and you felt your heart seize up, “I thought I was gonna lose you twice in the same damn day. I was so fucking scared, sweetheart.” 

  When he’d been driving to the hospital, there had been a moment when he wondered if you’d still be breathing when he got there. It made him want to throw up so he quickly squashed it and forced it to the back of his head. It hadn’t been ideal when he’d entered the operation room, he didn’t like seeing you get cut open but it was comforting to see he’d overreacted. You were getting a c-section, you weren’t on your deathbed.

  Until you had been. 

  And for the second time that day, he thought you were going to die, thought he’d somehow cruelly manifested this for you and himself.

  “I’m alright, Eddie.” You freed your hand, grabbing his to cradle your cheek with. 

  “See? I’m okay. You didn’t lose me, you’re not going to.” Eddie pulls away from his hiding spot to stare down at you, the wounded puppy look still firmly in place so you add a little humor, hoping to get a smile out of him, “There’s no way I’m checking out this early, I can’t risk you moving on when you look this good.”

  Eddie’s hand was so big his fingers were tucked into your hair, his palm alone took up most of your cheek. His fingertips lightly massaged the area of your scalp available to him as the hurt on his face morphed into an earnest look, somehow more vulnerable.

  “There’s no moving on from you, you’re taking my soul, my heart, all of it with you when you go. You’re the love of my life, my everything. And that—fuck, it terrifies me because I’d still have Penny to take care of and I wouldn’t know what to do. I wouldn’t know how to pull myself out of it, if it’d even be possible and quite frankly, I don’t ever want to fucking find out.”

  Eddie was more than happy to have those types of questions remain unanswered for the rest of his life.

  “You’d be able to do it, I know you would. You would be able to take care of Penny and the baby.” You knew he would, your husband would pull himself out of his depression to make sure your children were okay because of how much he loved them, despite his grief.

  Eddie flinched, something you were quick to clock. You didn’t need to ask, he could see the question reflecting in those beautiful eyes of yours. 

  He had to break the news. You were already in a frail condition and he had to tell you the baby you’d almost died to have, your son, might still die.

  “Honey, the baby—he—fuck, he’s uh…there’s something wrong with his heart.”

  The way your face plummeted shattered something inside of him. 

  “What?”

  “He’s got a hole in his heart, the doctor said it was pretty common amongst heart defects but since he was born so early, it’d be difficult to medicate him or perform an operation. All they can do is keep him under observation, he still might not make it because of how young he is.”

  You squeezed your eyes shut, head dropping back to meet your pillow as you tried, and failed, not to cry. Why was this happening? You blamed yourself, why hadn’t you been able to keep him in your belly? Why had your own body betrayed you? Why had you failed your baby?

  “This is all my fault,” you declared, eyes and cheeks growing wet with your tears.

  “No, no, sweetheart.” Eddie was not about to let you take the blame for something out of your control or even allow you to believe any of this was your fault. “You can’t possibly believe this is on you. These things happen, it obviously isn’t ideal, but it’s just circumstance. It’s not your fault and it’s not the baby’s fault. You did everything you could and more. Okay?”

  He leaned in, finger stroking gently across your cheekbone as he caught a tear. You sniffled, nodding once as he pulled you back together.

  “What does he look like?” You asked, snuggling back into the pillow as Eddie coddled you.

  He hesitated for a moment before he answered, “I—I don’t know.”

  That elicited a small frown from you, “You haven’t seen him yet?”

  Eddie swallowed hard, gaze moving away from you, “No.”

  You waited, watching a series of emotions pass over his features. Eddie often tried to keep his internal struggles to himself, a habit you noticed once you became friends with him (ironically, through some trauma bonding) and even into your relationship. You hadn’t expected him to confide everything in you right away, though you had let him know should he ever need someone to talk to, you’d be there.

  Now, it wasn’t a matter of if he would, it was when. It didn’t take him long. 

  “I don’t know—I guess,” he pursed his lips, eyes squeezing shut as he felt the all too familiar burn of fresh tears. How many times had he cried in the last twenty-four hours? He felt ridiculous to be so emotional, then again, he’d never thought he’d find himself in this tragic situation, so he was due for a couple of breakdowns, “I know if I go down there and I—I look at him, I’m gonna fall in love with him and then what? He dies. I can’t do that, not if I’m gonna lose him forever. I can’t.”

  Eddie was leaking tears, not yet sobbing but well on his way as he made his confession. He couldn’t stomach seeing his baby boy if he was going to be taken away from him, if the two of you would have to put a tiny little coffin—a size that should never have to exist—six feet into the ground. He’d been put through the fucking ringer but Eddie couldn’t do that. It would break him.

  Eddie’s confession had you crying as well, you shared his pain. You didn’t want to lose your baby, either. You couldn’t remember what he looked like through the haze of your fatigue when you’d given birth to him, but if you tried to think hard enough, you could remember how it felt to have him in your arms in the passenger seat of Wayne’s truck. The first time you’d held him and you hoped it wouldn’t be the last. 

  Even if it was, you were grateful you’d had the chance to and you knew Eddie would never forgive himself if he didn’t get to see him, didn’t get to meet him.

  “I know you’re terrified, Eds. It scares me, too.” You grabbed his hand just as it slipped away from your face, encouraging him to look at you. “I don’t want to lose him, either. I want to take him home. I want to cuddle with him, nurse him, take tons of pictures of him with Penny and with you, but most of all, I want to make sure he knows I love him.”

  It killed you to imagine your baby in an incubator, small, helpless and with no one but the nurses, who could make the time to check on him in between all their other patients, offering him comfort. Human contact. And if he did end up passing, he could do so alone in there, not knowing how loved he was. 

  “I know you love him, Eddie, and you don’t want to lose him. But you can’t lose him if you don’t have him, baby. I hate that this is even a possibility for us, but I’d rather have held him and lost him than to never have picked him up at all. I’ll be okay with whatever you decide, but do you really want him to die without having gotten to meet his dad?”

  Eddie let out a choked sob as he shook his head. He didn’t want his baby to die at all but you were right, if he did lose his kid, he’d spend the rest of his life agonizing over the same thing Eddie had been upset with himself for when he thought he’d lose you. He’d been unable to recall the last time he told you he loved you. Only, he’d know he never told his son. 

  “I’ll be right back,” he swore and you nodded just as he leaned down to give you a kiss. He wiped away his tears, inhaled a particularly violent sniffle and you watched as he left your room to finally meet his baby.

  Eddie felt almost disorientated as he navigated his way to the NICU. He’d been there once, briefly, to check on Penny when she’d been there for a few hours, but that was a couple of years ago and he’d needed the assistance of several nurses and staff to direct him, but he finally made it.

  The entrance room, where the viewing window was located, was nearly empty. There was a woman further down, gazing through the large window.

  Eddie approached it with caution and his heart racing a mile a minute. It wasn’t too difficult to find his baby. His son was in an incubator, close to the window and labeled ‘MUNSON’. For the first time, Eddie got to take his son in. He had been right, he fell in love with him at first sight.

  He was smaller than some of the other babies, bigger than others as well and surprisingly well developed. Kind of calmed Eddie’s nerves, just a little. He had a couple of monitor pads attached to his tummy with an additional one wrapped around his tiny foot. Other than the nasal cannula, baby Munson didn’t have a whole lot of tubes attached to him like Eddie had imagined and he could see a smattering of hair on his head, somewhat light in shade but he had a feeling it would darken soon to resemble his own. 

  It was hard to tell if Wayne and Penny were right in their description of him, Eddie couldn’t tell if he was still pale since the baby was cloaked in blue light, but he assumed his son had gained some color by then. Eddie also couldn’t make out his eyes, those were covered by some sort of eye cloth, most likely for protection. He looked a little odd, obviously resembled a baby and while his features were almost indistinguishable, appearing a little generic, as his face still needed to develop a little more, Eddie could see hints of familiar features. 

  He looked like newborn Penny, well, so far. Her features had obviously changed since then, and still were, but he was promising to look almost exactly like she had when she was born. And Eddie thought Penny looked a lot like you, so it got a smile out of him, regardless of the fact his son was bound to resemble his family.

  Eddie watched the rapid rise and fall of his chest with concern. Was he supposed to be breathing that fast? Was he okay? 

  “Which one is yours?”

  Eddie turned to peer over at the woman who’d asked him the question, “Munson.”

  Eddie watched as her gaze moved over all the incubators until they found the correct one.

  “Oh, he’s a cute one. And his breathing looks incredible.”

  “Really? It’s not too fast?” He asked, the worry in his voice obvious.

  “Considering it’s his first time pumping those lungs, I don’t think so, no. Looks like he’s breathing real good to me. Mine needs a little help.” She pointed through the glass to an incubator that housed a baby with a tube in its mouth as well as individual ones in each nostril unlike his son’s nasal cannula. Eddie felt horrible.

  “I’m sorry,” he tried to apologize but she waved him off, a smile still on her face. 

  “Don’t be, that’s all mine is here for. As soon as she figures out how to keep doing it on her own, she’ll be back with me and my wife.”

  Right on, Eddie thought. Before he could continue their conversation, a nurse knocked on the window.

  She gestured down to the baby, “Is he yours?”

  Wow, this glass must have been thin, he could hear her pretty good.

  For some reason, Eddie still assumed she couldn’t hear him and only nodded. She disappeared for a minute and emerged into the room through a large pair of doors. 

  “Would you like to hold him?”

  Eddie glanced at the other occupant and she gave him a nod of encouragement. 

  “Yeah,” he rasped out, turning to look at his son through the window once more, “Yeah, I would.”

  Eddie was nervous the entire time as she prepped him with instructions. While they were concerned about the hole in his son’s heart, he was well developed, had strong vitals, good reactions, even for thirty weeks. He was so good that had it not been for his heart, he probably would have been sent home at the same time as you, given your longer than average stay due to your c-section and preeclampsia.

  And when she placed him in his arms, the love he had for his son almost overwhelmed him. He couldn’t believe he almost denied himself this. 

  “Can I touch him?” He asked, after he’d stopped marveling at the small face—eyes still hidden—in his arms. 

  “Mhm, we’d encourage it. Babies, even born preterm, are still very much so human. He craves the contact, it might even encourage him.” 

  Eddie didn’t hesitate, fingers gently stroking over the soft fluff of hair on his son’s head. This close, he could see it all pushed towards the middle of his head, like a mohawk. His baby was already metal straight out of your womb, it made him chuckle. 

  The nurse stepped away to tend to another baby, giving him a little privacy. Eddie maneuvered his son so he was resting on his chest, little head pressed against the spot just over his heart.

  “Hi,” he whispered down to the baby in his arms, “I’m your dad.”

  Much to Eddie’s awe, the baby nuzzled his head against his chest, making him still. He didn’t know why, but he’d believed his son wouldn’t be able to move for some reason. It was nice to know he was wrong.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you, too,” he laughed, the sound soft, “I’ve been looking forward to it, you must have, too. You sure know how to make an entrance, huh? Couldn’t wait in your mom any longer?”

  Eddie ducked down to kiss his little head, lips remaining there as he moved to sit in one of the few chairs of the NICU. 

  “It’s okay, though. I’ve got you, daddy’s got you.” Even if the outcome wasn’t okay, right at that moment with his son in his arms, everything felt like it would be. And if his son needed encouragement, Eddie would give it to him. 

  “I’m sorry it took me so long to come find you, your mom had to talk some sense into me. She loves you a lot, you know? Probably jealous I’m down here and she isn’t, but only because she physically can’t just yet.”

  Eddie’s hand went to support the back of his head as he moved the baby down to hold in his hands, staring down at his little face. 

  “I’ll bring her down to see you again as soon as I can, though. So you gotta keep fighting, okay? I know things are hard for you right now, not as easy as the other babies in the hospital, but I know you can do it. I love you so much, your mom and I just want to take you home, so you gotta beat this, okay?”

  Eddie rocked his baby, gentle swaying motions as he pressed kiss after kiss to his head. 

  “I see you’ve made it down for a visit,”

  Eddie glanced up at the face of Dr. Houseman, she didn’t look as intimidating as she had when she’d first approached him in the waiting room.

  “Sorry to disturb you, but I’m very glad I caught you. I heard your wife is doing well.”

  “She is,” he confirmed, with a relieved grin. 

  “Good, I’m glad. Have you been given an update on your little guy?”

  Eddie recounted what the nurse had told him and Dr. Houseman looked pleased.

  “Well, I have more news for you. He’s proving to be much stronger than we’d initially anticipated, and while his vitals were already good on intake, they’ve improved tremendously in the last few hours and so have his responses. I think he’s figuring out what he’s capable of doing; how to breathe, how to move, how to eat—we introduced him to a rubber nipple to check his latch response and it’s good, not quite there yet, we’ll have to get creative with his feedings but I think he’ll be able to latch onto his mom soon.”

  She must have caught the way Eddie perked up at her use of the word soon. That meant his baby had a fighting chance.

  “These first few hours after a birth such as his and with his condition are crucial. While he’s still significantly weaker than an average full term newborn, your baby seems to be a fighter.  Should he survive this next night, I believe he’ll make it. He’d just need some time in here while the hole closes up, but it just might not be too much for him.”

  She left him with that news and a parting smile.

  Eddie held his son for a few more minutes before a nurse returned to put him back in his incubator. He hadn’t wanted to leave him, but he’d promised him he’d be back.

  When Eddie got back to the room, his heart was a little lighter and he was able to smile when he saw you giving Penny, who was now wide awake, kisses. He pressed his back up against the door and watched for a few moments as you leaned in and gave her a loud kiss. She’d go into a fit of giggles before demanding another with an again!

  “Daddy!” Penny beamed the moment she saw him and Eddie grinned as he made his way over, lifting her into his arms when she held hers up to him.

  “Hi, pretty one. You sleep good?” 

  “Uh-huh,” it was clear she was distracted and didn’t care about his questions, no, she had some of her own. “You see my baby?”

  Eddie raised an eyebrow, trading an amused look with you.

  “Oh, he’s your baby now?”

  “Ya, he’s—he’s my baby.” She nodded with a grin as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he leaned down to press his forehead to hers.

  “Well, then yes. I saw your baby,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to her nose.

  “Wha’helooklike?” Penny blurted out, eyes wide as she waited for his reply. 

  “He looked a lot like you.” 

  “Nooooooo,” Penny laughed, shaking her head against her dad’s, “He is my potatoes, not anoda Penny.”

  “It’s true!” Eddie laughed with her as he put her back down by your side and leaned in to give you yet another—he’d never stop giving them to you—kiss.

  “He looks like her?” You asked, after you’d returned his kiss.

  “Mhm,” Eddie fell back into the seat he’d occupied hours earlier. “Looks like she did when she was a newborn. He’s not pale—like a potato,” he directed that part to Penny who just laughed into her little hands, “anymore, at least. I don’t know whose eyes he has, they were covered.”

  Eddie was right about you being jealous, you were practically green with it. 

  “I wish I could see him,” you stated sadly, frown on your lips. You knew, realistically, if he started to decline, they’d most likely let you out of bed to see him or bring him up to you, but still. You’d rather it not come to that.

  “Ran into his doctor while I was there, she said he’s got a better chance.”

  Your eyes lit up, “Really?”

  “I was just about ready to kiss her.” He nodded and you made a face, nose doing that adorable scrunch he loved so much.

  “Okay, well, don’t do that.”

  Eddie snickered, “It was a figure of speech, baby.”

  “I know, I’m just saying it on her behalf,”

  “On her behalf?” Eddie pouted, eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

  “Yeah, I want to kiss her, too, but—uhm, Eds, you might need some sleep ‘cause—you’re hot, you really are, but you also look insane right now.”

  Eddie got up to make his way to the bathroom so he could see himself in the mirror, nearly jumping once he’d turned on the lights.

  His eyes were beyond bloodshot, his eye bags were dark and very apparent, his skin had an interesting almost gray like tinge to it and his hair was a wreck. Eddie looked like he belonged in a psych ward.

  “Jesus,” he shouted loud enough to be heard by you.

  “It’s okay, Eds. You’re still beautiful to me!”

  Eddie did end up sleeping. Turns out the chair he’d been sitting on was also a pull out bed. You insisted that he get some rest, and while he did, you changed Penny’s diaper and got some hospital room service for the two of you, you’d even picked something out on the menu for Eddie to eat once he woke up. 

[artsninspo]

"FIRST LOVE💗 " - RIO X READER

Summary: For the girls who wanted a younger rio x reader. Here it is; Rio’s fallen for the daughter of his boxing coach. Based around this ask.

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Reader

Warnings: none this is fluffy 🐻 🐻 🐻

Word Count: 1K

Full Masterlist

RIO MASTERLIST

“Tell me you love me” Rio laughs, pulling you to him. His thumbs looped into the belt loops of your jeans as his hands rest on your butt. Looking up you laugh at the sight of him wearing your puppies of choice.

“No” you respond and he pulls you in closer.

“Don’t play with me” he laughs sitting on the trunk of his car.

“Tell me you love me” he repeats and you look up at him about to respond when your phone buzzes in your back pocket. Taking your hands from his knees you reach into it to see your dad in the caller ID.

“Dad?” You question picking up.

“Maria says we also need vegetables, I texted you the list. Don’t come back without it” he says talking about your stepmom. 

“Okay, it’ll take a little longer” you respond.

“Hurry we’re all hungry” your father says and Rio hips down from his car swinging an arm around you as you hand up.

“Lucky for you I know where all this shit is” he smiles, taking the phone from you. The two of you walk like that from the very back of the parking lot into the store. You grab a cart and Rio leads the way. His abuelita has taught him well or he’s excellent at bullshitting.

“Hey, Y/N it’s nice to see you” one of your friends' moms says, eyeing Rio.

“Nice to see you too Ma’am” you smile.

“One of your brother's friends?” She pries, ready to sell your secrets for a chance to be with your father.

“Yeah, he works at the gym” you don’t hesitate.

“Christopher” Rio smiles.

“Mhm, be good sweetie and stay away from boys who look at you the way he does. They’re all trouble” she advises before walking away. Everyone’s already made plans for the kind of man they want you to be with.

“So you don’t love me?” Rio whispers in your ear to taunt you.

“I told you not to get that neck tatt” you laugh evading the question and he smiles laughing. 

“I’ll get one for you, when you tell me you love me” Rio whispers in your ear again, in good humour.

“We should tell my dad.” You sigh.

“Why?”

“Because he’s your boxing coach and it could get messy if he thinks you’re a fox in the hen house” you explain.

“You won’t even tell me you love me, he doesn’t have to worry about us having sex” Rio scoffs, placing the final ingredients in your cart. You smile happy he knows and he smiles back winking at you.

“You’re okay with that?” You ask and he shrugs walking at your side.

“I’m seeing you when your dad can fuck me up, my heads already gone. Probably best for my well being you don’t sleep with me yet so I can stop spinning” Rio says making you blush.

“My dad likes you” you share candidly.

“For now” Rio says knowing how things work.

“I don’t think us dating changes that. Just makes you the enemy first, his pupil second.” You explain and Rio gets his money out to pay ahead of you. 

“Keep it” he smiles, allowing you to pocket the money your father gave you for the errand.

“Rio-“ you object.

“Shh” he says before helping you bring the groceries to his car. You both second guess parking so far out for some privacy. Rio gets your door and you sit passenger side waiting for him to get in. He pulls off and you look at each other smiling before the blushing happens and you’re both filled with butterflies. Rio’s hand interlocks fingers with yours and he kisses thrm. “I’ll tell him” he relents.

“Thank you” , you sigh with relief.

“Then we can go places together and go on dates” you say with excitement.

“Where do you want to go first?” Rio asks and you relax against the headrest pondering the thought. Rio watches your eyes sparkle. He watches the thoughts roll through your head as he waits for the red light to turn green.

“Let’s go to the roller skating rink”

“No way I’m not busting my ass in front of you on our first date” Rio smiles.

“Where then?” You ask.

“Take you somewhere nice to eat so you can get all dressed up and I can show you off” Rio says with his priorities all over the place. You laugh.

“After you show me off?”

“A drive in, we can watch something scary so you have an excuse to be all over me” Rio proposes and you love it.

“No imagination” you sigh, acting like it’s a bad suggestion.

“I don’t care as long as you’re happy and I’m not busting my ass,” Rio concludes.

“What about an art class? I could look for something. A workshop activity we could do?” You ask obliterating Rio’s idea of romance which was everything he’d ever seen on television.

“If it makes you happy” Rio shrugs.

“Okay, I’ll find something” you smile, getting ahead of yourself.

The rest of the ride is short and you find your father waiting out front. He scrunches his face at the sight of Rio taking the bags of food from you.

“It’s all here” you tell your father.

“Christopher” your dad nods in acknowledgement.

“Sir” Rio nods.

“You staying for dinner? The boys aren’t back yet” Your dad says.

“I’d like to speak to you about something” Rio’s voice cracks a little.

“Sure” your dad says heading in to set down the groceries. You sigh watching from the kitchen as they talk outside. Maria, your father’s current fixation watches you like a hawk.

“Told you he likes you” she smiles. “Don’t work, I’ll convince your dad you should be allowed to date, if you try and get him to take me on a trip for my birthday. Three days away can go a long way” she comments, chopping up the produce.

“Why don’t we just make dinner like we said we would?” You ask peeling your eyes away from the outside window. She smiles hearing your dad’s voice raise.

“Kid has some balls” she scoffs as your heart races. He gets louder and she stops putting the knife down to head outside. You stay out of it wanting to speak to Rio but not wanting things to get worse. “Babe she’s a good kid, you should reward honesty. She’s not having sex and she wanted him to tell you. Be her hero not her warden. You can’t protect her from everything. If he messes up guess what, you’re still her dad, you can go off” Maria says reasoning with him.

“I like the kid. I don’t want to have to kill him. But that’s my baby girl” your father snaps.

________-

Authors Note: Testing, I wanted this to be longer but I haven't written teenage puppy love in so long I hope I did okay. This was supposed to be one long update but I had to break it up so you all could have something in relatively timely matter.

Let me know if you enjoyed it.

LIKE COMMENT & REBLOG

[moremaybank]

BACK FOR YOU — r.c

day four second chance with rafe cameron

pairing rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary months after your failed long distance relationship, rafe begins to send you love letters in an attempt to win you back.

warnings one allusion to sex closer to the end, but nothing else. just a lil angst and hella fluff. oh, and some language.

author’s note hi my loves, i’d really appreciate if you read this because i haven’t written a piece like this in a very long time and i’m actually really proud of it ♡︎ thank you ily

obx week ‘23 masterlist ;; rafe masterlist

Dear Y/N,

Hey. I know it’s been awhile, and I know that it’s weird — writing you like this. But something happened the other day, and I wanted to tell you about it. 

I was in the grocery store with Wheeze, picking up some cupcakes for her class bake sale because none of us actually know how to bake (which you know). When we got to the bakery section, I saw chocolate-covered strawberries, and I immediately thought of you. Remember how we used to go star-gazing? We’d pile the back of my pickup with pillows and those thick-ass, furry blankets from Costco, get all cozy, and you’d bring those chocolate-covered strawberries that you’d spent the day making just for me. You’d feed ‘em to me, grinning when I’d instantly chase your hand for another bite. And then afterward, you’d cuddle into me, and we’d just lay there, looking at the stars. You’d get this wondrous look in your eyes, like you’d never seen anything so beautiful. I had though. I got to look at you every day, and you beat the stars by a long shot.

Anyway, I ran into your mom at the club earlier. She told me that you were travelling, visiting every place you possibly could in Europe. Sounds like you. I bet you went to Greece first, you’ve had an obsession with it since you were fifteen. I know I always talked about taking you there. Who knows, maybe I still can. 

I miss you. Did I mention that? ‘Cause I do. I miss you all the time. 

Yours, 

Rafe

Dear Y/N, 

You didn’t answer that last letter, and that’s fine. I understand why. I never said how sorry I was for everything that happened last year, never really explained. But I will now.

I’m so sorry for how I ended things. Every day, I woke up at school, far away from you. It ached me to not wake up to you. To not see you every second of the day. To not hold your hand or see you smile as soon as you saw me. 

I missed everything. The smell of your lavender shampoo. Your hands running through my hair when I was stressed. You’d always kiss the frown off my face and fix everything just by telling me you loved me. The nights you’d call me when you couldn’t sleep because you needed to hear my voice. That cute little giggle you’d do after you’d been laughing for awhile. The way you’d look at me when you told me you loved me. There wasn’t a single reminder of you that didn’t constantly play on a loop in my head, that didn’t buzz deep in my veins. But I felt such a large void in my heart without you around, and I thought that if I broke things off with you that it would go away. But in the months since then, it’s only grown. Only gotten worse. I don’t think I’ll ever survive losing you. 

I hope this letter finds you well. I hope you open it, and maybe decide to write me back. No pressure, though. 

Yours always,

Rafe

Dear Y/N, 

I don’t know if you’re getting sick of these. I really hope you aren’t. I gotta admit, writing to you makes me feel like we’re still connected. I still think we are. At least, on my end, we are. 

Life’s been really crazy, lately. Ward’s getting ready to hand Cameron Development over to me. Every day he tells me that he hopes I won’t run the damn thing into the ground while he’s gone, travelling with Rose. I honestly don’t know why he would let me run things when he obviously doesn’t have an ounce of faith in me. You always told me that his love didn’t have to be earned, and I’ve always known that you were right, but it really feels like I’ll never have it. I wish you were here. You always make things better. 

Anyway, I’m on the road to Raleigh, and I can’t help but think about our crazy road trip last summer. We had no freakin’ clue where we were going, but honestly, I didn’t care. I just wanted to be with you. Your infectious laughter and your terrible singing along to All Too Well (the ten minute version, obviously) is what kept me going that entire drive. That, and when you’d shower me with kisses all over my cheek when you got bored. I loved that shit. 

I’ve been missing you like hell. I’ve already said this, but I really wish you were here. You’d make all this work worth it. ‘Cause, as of right now, I don’t really know why I’m doing all this. You aren’t here, and we don’t have the family we’d always dreamed about. Hopefully that changes in the near future. 

Yours (until my heart stops beating), 

Rafe

Dear Y/N, 

A little birdie by the name of Sarah let it slip that you’ve been keeping my letters. Truth is, I sent her to spy on you.

Okay, I didn’t. But I had you for a sec, didn’t I? 

I only know you have them because I begged her for hours to tell me how you were doing, and if you talked about me. Even then, I had to bribe her by saying I’d babysit the kids for an entire weekend so her and John B could go on a couples getaway. Totally worth it. 

Oh, and they threw me a party at work. Apparently I beat out Ward for some record. I don’t even remember what it’s called now. I had so much cake that I went into a sugar coma. It was red velvet, cream cheese icing. Your favourite. That’s probably why I ate so much. You’d go back for it so many times that by the time you were full, I’d be finishing all the rest. 

You still haven’t written me back, but that’s alright. Do it when you’re ready. If you’re ready. Again, no pressure. 

Anyway, I’m sitting here on my couch watching Gilmore Girls. Yes, I finally got around to watching it. I know you begged me to for ages and we never actually got the chance to do it, but it popped up on my ‘recommended’ the other day and I decided to give it a try. You were right. This show’s freakin’ hilarious. I swear Lorelai Gilmore is the reason you were always so witty with me. She’s so quick on her feet, it blows my mind. Also, please tell me that Rory becomes enjoyable again. I miss her Chilton days. I miss her and Jess. Does he ever come back? And please tell me that Luke and Lorelai are endgame. I mean, the horoscope!!! The man waited eight years for her. People probably thought he was crazy for doing so, but I get it. I’d wait centuries if it meant I got to end up with you. 

Yours (until the end of time),

Rafe

Dear Y/N, 

I’ve written you so many letters, I hope I’m not taking up too much space at your place. Hey, that rhymed. I should be a rapper. All right, I could never be a rapper. This is why I need you. You keep my delusional mind in check. 

The other day, I was on the ferry, riding over to the mainland, and when we reached, I swear I almost started driving to your house. Obviously, I didn’t. I chickened out. I thought about walking up to your doorstep, watching you open the door, and even dream-you was way too beautiful for me to handle. I almost gave myself a heart attack. One day, though, I’ll work up the courage. I wanna see you so badly, it’s killing me. 

Can I tell you something? I have this dream sometimes, more often than not. It takes place back when we were still in college. Instead of ending things between us, I drop everything and run to you. The journey takes all day long, but I don’t care. I make my way to you, and once I find you, I pull you into my arms and kiss the life out of you. You ask me what’s gotten into me, and I respond by saying that I never want to live without you. That being away from you is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to deal with, and that life isn’t worth living if I’m not by your side. I get down on one knee, pull out a big ass rock from my pocket, and ask you to marry me. And you say yes. Every. Damn. Time. 

The reason I’m saying all this is because I want to give you a fair warning. I’m going to make that happen someday. Sure, we aren’t in school anymore, and we aren’t even together right now, but I don’t care. We’re going to end up together. I know it, and you know it. I promise you, Y/N, I’m going to come back for you. And when I do, I’ll never leave you again. The only place I ever want to be is right by your side, in our huge house that I’m going to build for us, with our kids running around and chasing our dog. The house will smell like a bakery all the time because of your huge sweet tooth, and it’ll most likely be a mess because we won’t be able to keep up with our crazy ass kids. But we’ll be together. And we’ll stay that way until we’re all old and grey. And I might be pushing it by saying this, but I’ll still be taking you to bed every night, ‘cause I know in my heart that you’ll still be getting me all bricked up even in our nineties. Please don’t hate me for saying that. 

Yours forever,

Rafe

You placed the last letter back into its envelope and added it to your large collection. Your heart warmed at Rafe’s declaration. You’d been rereading that one letter for a month now. You missed him terribly. You’d tried to write to him so many times, but each time you’d started, you just couldn’t go through with it. Your fear consumed you. You were petrified of the thought that once you opened yourself up again, Rafe would find another reason to leave you. You’d always known that it was hard for him to walk away from you, but it hurt you just the same. If not, more. 

Still, this was a side of him that you’d never seen before. He’d changed in the near year since you’d broken up. You could tell from the way he wrote to you. He’d never been as vulnerable and raw as he had been in those letters. He was bearing his soul to you, something he was always unable to truly do. There was always a small part of him that was closed off, even to you. But that part seemed to have vanished. 

Just as you placed the crate of letters back on your shelf, your doorbell rang. Your heart raced as you approached the door. You opened it, and there, finally, he stood.

Rafe slapped his hand to his heart. “God, I was right. Way too beautiful. Take it easy on me, would you?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you threw your arms around his neck and practically jumped into his arms. He returned your embrace quickly, squeezing you tightly and keeping you pressed to him as one hand cradled the back of your head. 

After a moment, you hesitantly pulled away, your tears clouding your vision. You opened your mouth to speak, but Rafe beat you to it.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I love you. I love you so much. I—”

You cut him off. “—Shut up and kiss me, fiancé.”

“Fiancé? Yeah? You wanna marry me?”

“Of course I do. You’re still mine, right?”

“Yours,” he confirmed, punctuating it with a kiss. “Always.” Kiss. “Until my heart stops beating.” Kiss. “Until the end of time.” Kiss.

He leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as he let out a content sigh. “Forever.” 

RAFE TAG LIST (JOIN HERE!): @surftrips @oncasette @taintedxkisses @maybankslover @goldenroutledge @penny4yourthoughts @bmo-bri @hemogloban @princessbetsy123-blog @slytherhoes @whoisdrewstarkey @dreamingwithrafe @vigilanteshitposting @twelfthmortalofcrimsonpalace @wildflwrdarlin @adoreyouusugar @f4ll-for-you @tell-me-when-ur-ready @bbycowboi @jjmaybankisbae @jjsbank444 @enhypens-hoe @loverofdrewstarkey @countryclubkook @earth2starkey @angelofcigs @koalalafications @aerangi @cantstoptheimagines @bloody-mf-bsc @maybanksbabe @slut4drudy @dancinglikeaballerina @somerandos-world @shahanaazsoumah @darleneslane @sya-skies @ellabellabus07 @emmalandry @madelynie @urbestieboo @cruzgrecia @l1lactheflower @rafegirly @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @gillybear17 @obaex @abbybarnesstuff @mattyskies

[starly-amazing]

"I want to love you the way you need to be loved"

Summary:

Post-canon: Siffrin and Isabeau are finally alone together after the time loops ended. They start to cuddle, and kiss, and explore each other, but when things get more heated, Siffrin must face the fact that their intimacy needs are much different than Isabeau's.

archiveofourown org/works/58958008

Get ready ISAT fans for the first of my 50,000 ISAT fic ideas that are plaguing my mind.

----------------------------------------------

"Hey, Sif, you awake?"

Siffrin feels something gently nudge his shoulder. He grunts and pries his eye open to see a blurred Isabeau standing over him.

"Oh, sorry." He backs away. "Didn't realize you were that tired, I'll let you rest."

"No, it's okay Isa." Siffrin sits up in his bed in the clock tower and quickly wipes the sleep from his eye. Out of habit he wipes at the scarred mess that was once his other eye, too. The sensation makes him wince. "What's up?" he yawns.

"You sure? I can wait, it's fine."

"Tell meeee," Siffrin pouts.

"Sorry." He grabs his shoulder and briefly looks away. "It’s just that the others left for a while and I wanted to—to spend some time with you. Like, just the two of us.” His cheeks darken. “B-but if you want to keep sleeping that’s okay too I know you’ve been through a lot and you probably need to sleep for a year to catch up from—”

“Isa.”

Isabeau jumps. “Y-yeah?”

He smiles. “I’d love that.”

"Really?" He stands up taller. "Yippee!"

Cute.

"But really, if you're too tired we can wait. I don't want to p—"

Siffrin throws his pillow directly into Isabeau's face. He stumbles back with a loud oof.

"Hey!"

"We are hanging out now," they command. "What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, uh. I’m not sure," Isabeau snorts. "The others just left so I didn’t have much time to think about it.”

“Hmm...” Siffrin pinches their lip and wracks their brain.

“It was kinda weird though,” Isabeau continues as he stares out the window. “Odile left a sock on the door handle. I don’t really know what that means, maybe it’s a Ka Bue thing?” He scratches at his stubble. “But! She said they won’t come back until we take it off. So we can do whatever; play some games, talk about something, c-c-cud—I mean you don’t have to talk about anything too heavy if you don’t want to. I know it’s all still pretty raw for you so we can just talk about the stars or wood crafting or something."

Cud...dle?

"Cuddling sounds nice," Siffrin says, softer than a whisper.

"Huh?" Isabeau leans closer.

“I think,” he speaks up just a bit. “I’d like a...a hug.”

Isabeau beams and nods. “Yeah. Yeah! I can do that!”

Siffrin shifts closer to the wall to give Isabeau space to get in.

He climbs in and comes to rest close to Siffrin. Not touching, but closer than he’s ever been while sleeping beside him.

Siffrin feels their heart pounding against their ribs. His cheeks grow warm.

Isabeau doesn’t move.

He just stares and worries his lip with his teeth.

“Isa?”

“Ah—sorry, just a bit overwhelmed about sharing a bed with you.”

Siffrin tilts their head. “We’ve shared beds loads of times.”

“Y-yeah I know, but it feels different now, since, y’know—I confessed my feelings and we’re not going to sleep for the night or anything.”

Siffrin couldn’t hold back a breathy chuckle. He throws the blanket over Isabeau and brushes against his arm as they pull back. Isabeau shudders.

Siffrin pokes him in the ribs.

“H-hey!” he squeaks. “I’m sensitive there!”

“Hurry up and hug me,” Siffrin whines.

“Okay okay fine. If you insiiiiiist.”

They stick their tongues out at each other.

Isabeau reaches out.

He lightly touches Siffrin’s shoulder, then cups his face.

Siffrin shifts forward and allows themself to be wrapped up in Isabeau’s embrace. He pulls them close. They can barely move but manage to wrap their arms around him and squeeze even tighter.

“Wow, Sif, you sure have an iron grip.”

“That’s a bit…ironic since you’re the one with the muscles.”

"Ha! That's a good one."

"Really? I'd say it's pretty...metal-ocre."

"Metal-ocre!? Your puns steel my breath away."

"They do? Well..." Siffrin scrunches their face. "Something something copper I'm all out now."

"Really?" Isabeau tilts his head, then scrunches his face in the same way Siffrin did. "Yeah I've got nothing too."

They both break out into a bout of childish chuckling.

Siffrin sighs and rests his head on Isabeau’s chest.

It feels nice.

Warm.

Safe.

Like home.

Home.

Siffrin realizes now that they’re embracing he can finally try something he’s been wondering about for many many loops.

He shifts himself around and clambers on top of Isabeau.

“Whoawawawawao—” He sputters. “Sif!?”

Siffrin hums and lays down. “You make a nice bed.” He closes his eye. Isabeau's heart is thundering in his chest.

“Haahhsldfla;kdfa;skasf;ffff!!!” Isabeau makes a noise Siffrin didn’t know one was capable of.

Slowly.

He realizes…

The kind of power he wields.

A mischievous smirk grows on his face and he sits up over him. Isabeau’s cheeks grow darker than Siffrin has ever seen. He straddles his hips and pins his arms to the bed.

“Sif?” His voice cracks. He’s wearing a lopsided smile on his face.

“Yes, Mr. Amazing-Wonderful-Funny-Buff Isabeau?”

Isabeau’s mouth falls open and he lets out another inhuman squeal. His brow begins to glisten with sweat.

“Are you okay?”

Isabeau coughs and nods. “Yep! More than okay! I haven’t been this okay in...I don’t know!”

Siffrin leans back and tilts his head. His smile wavers. “That wasn’t sarcasm, was it?”

“No!” Isabeau jolts up. “No! Nonono I truly mean it I’m just...wow this is really happening I don’t know if my heart can take it we’re moving so fast and wow—I mean I’m one hundred percent on board with this!”

Siffrin sticks out his tongue and leans closer.

He looks at the faint glimmer of balm on Isabeau’s lips. He wonders what it tastes like. Is it flavored? Or plain—just for keeping his lips from chapping? For looks? For making Siffrin’s mind race with useless questions?

He leans forward just a bit more.

He looks into Isabeau’s eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” He learned his lesson before. He knows what the answer will be, but he can’t fully push the memory to the wayside.

Isabeau nods furiously. Siffrin almost worries he’s going to hurt himself.

He waits a moment for the fighter to calm himself and leans in.

Their lips almost touch; he can feel Isabeau’s heat radiating out. But he pauses.

Isabeau hums and lifts his arm—still being gripped tightly by Siffrin’s sweaty hands—and slides his fingers into their tangled—and also sweaty—hair.

He pulls them closer. Their noses bump and his lips find their resting place on Isabeau’s.

Siffrin lets out a soft squeak. He pulls back for a moment.

Isabeau looks at him, smiling awkwardly. His gaze is so soft, so welcoming.

Siffrin leans down into another kiss.

He’s not quite sure what to do next. They try to think of what the characters did in the plays they watched. He thinks about Mirabelle’s romance novels.

He sits back up.

“Sif?”

“I don’t know what to do now.”

Isabeau snorts and grins.

“Well we can uh…” His smile fades a bit as a look of mild panic crosses his face. “Uhh…I don’t know either. I didn’t think we’d get this far.”

Siffrin snorts too. He coughs out a chuckle, and then another. Soon, he’s doubled over laughing with Isabeau joining in shortly after. They press their forehead to his chest and let their tears soak into his soft shirt.

They sigh. "Ohhh stars."

"Ohhh stars," Isabeau repeats. He rubs his hand down Siffrin's back.

Siffrin sits up and wipes their face. “You really haven’t done this before?”

“Not really,” Isabeau coughs and looks at the wall with his lip between his teeth, “the furthest I’ve gotten before were always quick hello and goodbye kisses.”

Siffrin chuckles. “Further than I’ve ever gotten.”

“Well,” Isabeau pulls Siffrin close to his face. “Let’s change that.”

“But how though?” He purses his lips.

Isabeau snorts. “O-oh, right. Uhh...” He looks around the room, lost in thought. “Well some people use...tongues.”

“Tongues?”

“Yeah, like, sticking their tongues in each other’s mouths.”

Siffrin grimaces. “That sounds disgusting.”

“Does it? Y-yeah it does. Doesn’t it? It’s nasty, let's not do that.” He tugs at the end of the blanket bunched up under him.

“Well, do you remember what your parents did?”

“What?!”

“You know, like whenever they kissed, what did they do?”

“My parents are the last people I’d like to think about right now Sif!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He was not kidding.

Isabeau rubs his legs together and makes a few soft groaning sounds. The bed creaks under their combined weight.

“Egh, enough thinking let’s just kiss each other all over and see what feels good.” He let out a sharp breath as if he had been struggling to get those words out.

"Sounds like a plan," Siffrin smirks.

They stare at each other.

Siffrin swallows the knot in their throat.

Isabeau tentatively places his hand on Siffrin's cheek.

A switch goes off in their mind and before they know it they're on top of Isabeau, kissing everything they can reach. Isabeau flails for a moment before grabbing him behind the neck and back and pinning them against him. He falls back in bed and they both sprawl out as they ravenously go at each other's faces.

Isabeau’s grip on Siffrin’s neck holds him against his lips and they can barely come up for air. He’s not about to complain though. They shift themself a bit under His strong grip, just enough to lift themself up and wedge their leg between his thighs. That elicits a loud grunt from their partner and he freezes for a moment. Encouraged, they press forward a bit and tease another strangled squeal from him.

Cuuute.

Siffrin tries to push themself up but Isabeau tightens his grip and keeps him pinned. They almost want to complain, but the iron grip he has on their lower back causes it to pop audibly and release some hidden tension.

Isabeau gasps. "You okay?" He leans back to look but Siffrin pulls forward and nips at the corner of his jaw.

"Stars, yeah, I needed that." Siffrin works their arms up his neck and through his hair. They tug at it; each yank pulls a muffled moan from his throat. Siffrin sits up a bit to catch their breath and dives back in.

They wrap his hair in their fingers and hold him against the bed. He plants a kiss on the side of his lips and then another, and another—each a little further down his jaw. Isabeau tries to reciprocate but Siffrin holds him in place with a palm on his chest. They don’t use much force, just enough to keep him still so they can go about their business uninterrupted. Though, they know even if they used all their strength there was no way they could keep the fighter down even for a second.

Oh, wait.

They can now.

If there was one good thing about the loops, it's that now Siffrin has the power to protect all their friends from harm.

...And finally win an arm wrestling match against Isabeau.

...or at least Bonnie.

Siffrin pushes the urge to call for a rematch and continues his journey towards Isabeau’s ear. Their lips come to a stop right at the edge.

They take his chin between two fingers and turn his head to the side.

He's shaking. trembling.

Siffrin kisses his ear and takes the edge gently in their mouth.

Isabeau squeals breathlessly as his grip tightens around Siffrin like a massive ravenous snake.

They bite down just a little bit and very lightly scrape their teeth against his skin.

Isabeau makes another inhuman squeal.

Siffrin's lips curl up in a catlike smirk.

"Isaaaa," they mewl right into his ear.

"MmmMmmhHhmmM?"

Siffrin thinks about all the sounds and expressions he can pry out of him. All with a few words and touches.

It will be so easy.

"I'm glad you're 'ear with me now."

Isabeau groans and curls in on himself, nearly throwing Siffrin off the bed. If he wasn’t already clinging to him he would have ended up on the floor.

Cute. Cute. Cuuute.

“Siffriiiiinnnnnnnn.”

Very cute.

“Yes, Mr. Amazing-Wonderful-Funny-Buff Isabeau?”

Isabeau squeals and covers his face. “Noooo! You can’t do that twice in one day! My poor old heart!”

“If you’re old, then what does that make me?” Siffrin fakes offense. “What does that make Odile!?”

"Ancient and decrepit."

"Wow."

"What are you going to do about it? Are you going to punish me?" He looks at Siffrin coyly with a trembling lip.

Siffrin tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. "Huh? Do you want me to spank you or something?"

Isabeau's eyes go wide. "...Maybe."

"What."

"What. Never mind, let's just keep making out."

Siffrin blinks a few times and they resume sloppily kissing and nibbling at each other's faces. It's a hit and miss on what works. Siffrin bites down too hard on Isabeau's ear; Isabeau moves too fast and collides with Siffrin's nose. They don't give up though, and eventually they start to find things that work more often than not.

Isabeau grows a bit bolder; bit by bit moving his hands lower and lower on Siffrin's body. They sigh as his fingers dig into another spot on his back that's been bothering him for a while. Isabeau works on that spot for a while and Siffrin, in turn, starts working on his shoulders.

Isabeau's hands may be large but they're so delicate with Siffrin. They almost want to curl up and fall asleep right on top of him and let him work out every little kink in their muscles.

Not yet though. They have so much to learn. So much to explore.

They blink away the exhaustion and dig their fingers in a tight spot at the base of his head. Isabeau lets out a soft sigh, almost a moan. The sound rouses Siffrin and they keep trying to pull more noises like that from him.

Isabeau slides one hand up Siffrin's body and back into his hair. He tugs and they let out a high whine then slap a hand over their mouth. Isabeau looks at them with a shocked, crooked smile. He laughs.

"We really need—" Isabeau pauses to inhale sharply as Siffrin takes his earring in their teeth. "—to fix your hair up—" Siffrin tugs at it a little, "—when we're done."

Siffrin mumbles an agreement. Isabeau tugs at his hair again and they lose their grip on his earring.

He props them up and pulls Siffrin's head back, exposing his neck.

Isabeau presses a kiss under their jaw.

Siffrin grunts and grabs Isabeau's shoulders for stability.

"You like that?" he breathes.

"Mhm." Siffrin tries to nod but is held fast. His eyes roll back in his head as Isabeau takes the reins.

"Aah." They squeeze tighter as Isabeau begins to kiss and suck at their neck. The hand not tangled in their hair starts to travel around; it slides over his chest and down his stomach. He presses his fingers into a fold in their shirt and begins to tug it upward.

The sudden cool air makes them shudder.

They feel the tips of Isabeau's fingers brush against an old scar.

His hands are impossibly warm.

They’re even warmer against his bare skin.

He didn't realize he could get more relaxed.

But then…

Isabeau starts to slide his hands down.

Down to the hem of Siffrin’s pants.

Wait.

Isabeau pulls back to look at them. He tilts his head in a questioning manner. Siffrin puts on a smile for him. He nods with half-lidded eyes.

He makes himself relax again.

Isa’s not like you.

Isabeau makes an adorably excited noise that eases Siffrin’s nerves a bit. But then he slides his hand along their thigh and around their ass.

He’s going to want more.

Isabeau’s ministrations get closer and closer to the space between their legs. He’s being slow, cautious, gentle.

But still...

Are you going to give it to him?

“Hey, Sif? You okay?” Isabeau's voice jerks them out of their thoughts.

No.

“Yeah.”

Isabeau studies their features for a moment. He looks thoroughly unconvinced.

“Am I moving too fast? I’m sorry I was just so excited to finally be with you like this I just kinda got ahead of myself hahahahhh…”

“It’s fine,” Siffrin smiles.

Just tell him.

“Are you sure? Really, I’m okay with slowing down or waiting.”

Don’t string him along.

“Really, I’m fine with whatever you want to do.”

But he’s been waiting so long to do this, it’s the least you can do for him.

“Promise?”

Just let him do this. You’ll get used to it.

“I…”

Do it. Just do it. You'll blinding get used to it. Don't disappoint him. He wants this, you want this. You WANT this.

“Sif?”

They clutch their chest.

“No!” they finally gasp. “I can’t promise because I don’t want this! I never wanted this!”

Isabeau bolts upright. “Wh-what?" He pulls his hands back from them. "Sif what do you mean?” His voice cracks.

Siffrin hisses under his breath. “I mean I do want this! I want you! I want to be with you and hold you and kiss you and love and touch you but not—" They cross their legs and shift away. "I don't want—” They bite down on their lip hard enough to break skin. Tears begin to stream down their face. "It’s too much."

“You mean like...” His voice quiets. "Not actual s-sex?"

Siffrin nods. They clench their jaw and take a shuddering breath. "But it's not you. I promise it's not you. I just—thinking about it always makes me feel gross." They grip their shoulders and shudder. "And anxious and...eugh."

“Wait,” Isabeau says. He narrows his eyes and loses himself in thought for a brief moment. "You mean like how Mirabelle is?”

Siffrin nods, and repeatedly wipes the tears away. "Sort of, yeah."

Isabeau closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh and a winded chuckle.

He breathes in.

And out.

“Oh, thank the Change God.” He covers his eyes with the back of his forearm.

Siffrin looks up. Isabeau peers over and jolts back a bit.

“Oh—er—I was worried you were...well not...lying but like," he chews on his lip, "I dunno—or that maybe I did something wrong in one of your loops or now maybe it was me just moving too fast when you’re still so—" he grinds his teeth. "or maybe something else happened...to make you...”

A disgusting pathetic mess?

Siffrin shakes their head and wipes their face again. “No, nothing happened.” He pauses and squeezes his eye shut. A sharp pain shoots through the scar over their missing eye. They ignore it. “At least, not that I remember…”

Isabeau reaches out to him but stops a few inches from him. After a moment of hesitation, Siffrin takes his hand in both of theirs. He squeezes it gently but makes no other move.

"Do you want to talk about it?" His voice is gentle, without judgment or expectation, but Siffrin feels obligated nonetheless.

He squeezes Isabeau's hand. Isa puts his free hand on top of theirs.

Siffrin takes a breath. “I think it’s always been like this." He exhales slowly and takes another breath. "I love you, Isa. I love your touch and how gentle you just were and how you held me and kissed me but when I think about actual...sex...with anyone...I just—” They shudder again.

“Oh, Sif.” Isabeau tenderly cups their cheek and wipes the tears from their eye. Siffrin tries to hide their face away  but Isabeau holds him just tight enough to make him pause. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything that makes you feel like that. Okay?”

Siffrin nods and sniffs. “Okay.” He squeezes his eye shut and shakes his head. “I mean—No, no! You want this! You’ve been wanting this! After all I’ve done to you I should at least try this and get used to it!”

“Not if it’s causing you this much pain!”

Siffrin flinched and turned away, breaking Isabeau's grip.

“Sif, I’m sorry,” Isabeau gasps. He places his palm back on Siffrin's hands. “I just don’t want you to punish yourself like this over the way you feel. Over anything."

Siffrin digs their heels into the mattress. "Not punishment. I just need to get used to it."

"Forcing yourself to do this is only going to hurt you." He squeezes Siffrin's hands.

Siffrin shrinks in on themself.

"It's not good for either of us, Sif."

They bite their lip. They can't bring themself to speak—to argue.

"I'm sorry." They hang their head low and rest their forehead against Isabeau's shoulder.

“It kind of hurts, Sif—that you think I’d be so desperate for sex I would put my wants over your needs like this.” Isabeau looks at Siffrin with a tired frown. "And you're willing to use me to hurt yourself, too."

Stupid. Stupid. Now you’ve upset him, you blinding idiot.

"I'm sorry," they murmur.

A feeling of disgust claws at their chest and they pull back again. They grab at their hair and dig their nails into their scalp.

"I'm sorry!"

They pull at their hair and begin to tear a fistful out.

Tears threaten to fall again. He closes his eye and tries to hold them back.

Isabeau reaches out and gently pulls Siffrin’s hands away from their head.

“Sif, no. I didn't mean to snap at you,” Isabeau sighs. "I'm sorry. I know this isn't about me; I know you're struggling." He untangles their fingers. His hands are still so warm. So gentle. “I’m not mad. I just want you to have more faith in me.”

“Sorry,” they mumble. Is that really all they can say anymore?

“It’s okay. It’ll be okay.” He squeezes their hands. "You know I care about you so so much and I want you to be happy."

Siffrin doesn't reply. He can't.

"It's trueee. And I'll say it as much as I need to. "I care about you Siffrin. I love you. I want you to be happy."

Siffrin presses his forehead against Isabeau's hands. "I want you to be happy, too." Their voice is weak but Isabeau hears it all the same. "I love you and care about you, too."

Isabeau cracks a smile. “Can I hug you?”

Siffrin wipes their eye and nods. Isabeau untangles his hands from Siffrin's and wraps his arms around them.

Warm.

Isabeau runs his fingers through their messy hair.

It’s nice.

Siffrin grimaces as more tears well up in his eye.

Safe.

His chest is heavy, his throat is tight.

They press their face to Isabeau’s chest and break down.

Isabeau holds him close as he cries. He rubs small circles on their back and speaks softly to him. They're wailing too loud to hear what he’s saying but it's comforting all the same.

“Ugh, ugh, ugh!” They yell. His voice is muffled by Isabeau’s shirt. “I keep ruining everything! I said I’d be more honest with you, with all of you and I’m already failing that!”

Isabeau presses his lips to the top of their head. “But you’re trying. That’s what’s important.” He pauses as Siffrin lets out a small whine. “There’s no way any of us would expect you to be perfect at it right off the bat.”

Siffrin whines again.

“It’s true, though.” Isabeau kisses Siffrin’s forehead lightly. "And I promise I'll stay by your side even when you mess up. Because you're more than your mistakes." He presses his face in the crook of Siffrin's neck. "You're so much more," he whispers.

Siffrin is quiet for a long time. Isabeau doesn't push him for a response; he simply keeps stroking their hair.

“I guess...you’re right.”

Isabeau shakes his head. “You know I’m right.”

Siffrin groans then snorts out a single, weak chuckle.

“I want you to say it, Sif. ‘You’re right about that Mr. Amazing-Wonderful-Funny-Buff Isabeau.’”

Siffrin sniffs and lets out another, tired chuckle. “I thought you said you can’t handle that name more than once a day?” He pouts in an exaggerated manner.

“Well I’m prepared now, so hit me!”

“Hit you? Okay.” Siffrin makes a fist and punches forward. He taps it to Isabeau’s chest. "Pow!"

Isabeau grips the impact point and collapses on the bed.

“My ribs!” he coughs. “You broke every rib in my body, Sif!” He goes limp and lets his tongue fall out.

“Eww, you’re going to get the pillow all nasty!” Siffrin grabs Isabeau's cheeks and turns his head up toward them.

"Siiiiffffrinn..." He wheezes. His hand weakly grasps at Siffrin's shirt and pulls them closer. "Say iiittt. My final request to youuuu."

Siffrin rolls their eye. "Shh, don't speak, my love. I—" Their eye widens. Their face grows unbearably hot.

"I want youuu to say that aaagaiiin tooooo," Isabeau cries with his fake wheeze. "Please, Sif before it's too laaaate."

Siffrin covers his face and lets out a long whine. "You're right about that Mr Amazing-Wonderful-Funny-Buff Isabeau. My love. The light of my life. Mi amor in shining armor. The wonderful man who may—possibly perhaps maybe one day be my h-h-husband."

Isabeau freezes. He stares at Siffrin, slack jawed. "I think my heart just stopped." He cycles through many expressions as his whole face is taken over by a blush. Siffrin can almost feel the heat radiating off it. They swallow a giggle and put on a face of pure despair.

"Noooooooooooo!" Siffrin cradles Isabeau in their arms and pulls him closer. "I was too late!" They take his hand and press it to their forehead. He swoons and curses the heavens.

Isabeau cracks one eye open and snorts, then is quickly taken over by a bout of laughter. Siffrin joins in, and soon the two of them are cackling like schoolchildren. His sides begin to ache but they can't stop.

They don't want to stop.

Finally Isabeau lets out a sigh, a cough, and a few more weak chuckles. They lie back on the bed with Siffrin sprawled on top of him and catch their breaths.

He pats Siffrin on the back. “You’re feeling better right?”

Siffrin nods and smiles while wiping his face. His eyes still feel puffy and his nose itches but at least he stopped crying. He doesn't want to let the high of their little bout of nonsense wear off.

“You’re not just switching to joker mode to distract me?”

They shake their head, still smiling. “Hey, that was a genuine side-splitting laugh.” He pokes his ribs and winces with a small oof.

"Good," he hums. "I'm glad. But, Sif?" He looks directly into their eye. "I'm gonna be serious for a second."

"Hmm?" Siffrin can already feel their heart rate increase but Isabeau quells his fears with a soft touch and reassuring smile.

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. Not now. Not ever.”

Siffrin looks away. "Okay." He pulls at a loose thread in the blanket. "I want to make you happy though."

“You do make me happy! I've been happy all this time knowing you and we've barely even touched before. It's not gonna change now."

Siffrin blushes. Barely was an understatement.

Isabeau kisses Siffrin right below his eye patch. "Look, we can work together to find out what you’re okay with, yeah? It doesn’t have to be today, or tomorrow, or next week. I want to know how to love you the way you need to be loved.”

Siffrin blinks away tears, but one escapes and falls onto Isabeau's shirt. He cups Siffrin's cheek and wipes the trail away.

"What about you though?" Siffrin leans into his touch.

Isabeau cups their other cheek and squeezes. “Hey, I have my nice hands I lovingly Crafted myself. I’ve survived this long without, you know, putting my dick—which I also lovingly crafted myself, by the way—in someone else, or, you know, the other way around. Y’kno?”

“I’kno,” Siffrin smirks. His chest feels a bit lighter.

Isabeau covers his face with his hands. “Aagh, you know what I mean. I mean—” He lets out a groan that slowly turns into a laugh. Siffrin can’t help but join in again.

Siffrin lies back down on Isabeau and wraps their small arms around him. Isabeau throws the blanket over them and pulls them close.

They just lie like that for a while.

Just...

Together.

Comfortably.

With no expectations.

With a soft touch and gentle words here and there.

“Don’t let go.”

“I won’t, I promise.” Isabeau takes Siffrin's hands and squeezes them gently and rhythmically.

“Or I might not be able to handle it.”

“I might have to break that promise.”

“Nooooo.”

[steddieas-shegoes]

I'll be full of the love you want

rated t cw: self-doubt, relationship doubt, light angst tags: happy ending, hurt/comfort-ish, super fluffy romantic words being said

a/n: firstly I am writing this absolute fluff because i've been listening to sleep token and decided i could handle listening to blood sport (i couldn't) and so now we get this fluff. second of all, i feel like before anyone comes for my throat, i LOVE nancy. i hate what the duffer brothers have reduced her character to canonically. she has so much potential, just sitting there, and what are they doing with it? making her worse. i do think that she is just very bad at reading what's appropriate to say to people, and that's what happens here. assume that it gets fixed and she apologizes later, this entire thing is to focus on the boys.

Sometimes, Nancy’s subtle comments remained in Steve’s chest, an unbearable weight that felt crushing.

“Eddie has plans, and they may not involve you.”

That’s what she’d said to him when he told her they were dating.

No congratulations, no friendly smile or hug, not even the expected game of 20 questions.

The words played on loop in his head as he found an excuse to leave movie night early, as he drove home, as he took a shower. 

He barely slept that night.

Nancy was right in a way; Eddie did have plans.

—-

“She what?” Eddie yelled.

“Eds-”

“No, that’s. Stevie, you know how ridiculous that is, don’t you?”

He did. 

But he also…didn’t.

It really wasn’t that ridiculous to think that maybe his boyfriend of barely a month would have plans that didn’t involve Steve.

Steve may be head over heels in love with him, but he hadn’t said that. 

“Is it?” Steve asked, not looking up at Eddie pacing in front of him.

Eddie stopped in front of him, dropping to his knees on the floor between Steve’s parted legs.

His hands gripped Steve’s knees, squeezing in silent comfort.

“Sweetheart, I know it’s hard for you to believe, but I’m all in with us. I’m not going anywhere that you can’t or don’t want to follow. If someone sends me to the moon, you better start packing your bags,” Eddie left a kiss on his thigh, looking up at Steve’s wide, glassy eyes. “I don’t think she meant to hurt you, Stevie. I’d just talked to her about the band possibly going to Chicago for a show soon and how excited we were about producers being there.”

“And if they like you guys, you’ll leave. And you should! I don’t wanna hold you back. I just was so wrapped up in the now, ya know?” 

Eddie looked up at him, eyes squinting at him for a moment before he stood up.

He sat down on the bed and pulled Steve onto him so he was straddling his thighs.

“You are more than just my now, Steve Harrington.”

Steve’s heart fluttered in his chest.

Eddie cupped his face in his hands, leaning his head down so their foreheads rested against each other.

“We’ve seen the end of the world together, we’ve seen each other at our worst, at our bruised, at our most vulnerable. You’re my entire world now, and in the future.” Eddie let out a shaky breath, something foreign for him, usually so confident in his words. “I love you. It might scare you off, but I do. I haven’t stopped picturing my future with you in it. Nothing could drag me away from you, not the band, not the kids, not myself. I’m yours, for the long haul, wherever that takes both of us.”

Steve sniffled, the tears pooling in his eyes fighting so hard to fall.

“You can’t say stuff like that,” he squeaked out.

“Why can’t I?”

“I might believe it.”

Eddie tugged him closer, one hand on the back of his head holding him against his shoulder, one arm wrapped around his waist.

“I need you to believe it, love. There is nothing that will keep me from loving you. If Vecna himself couldn’t, then Nancy’s words sure as shit won’t.”

And it could be simple.

It could.

Steve could believe it, he could say the words back, he could plan a real future with Eddie, something he’d never been able to do with anyone else.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Eddie interrupted his thoughts, his hand squeezing Steve’s hip.

Steve pulled back, looking at Eddie’s earnest face.

“I’m scared to love you the way that I do,” Steve admitted, voice barely more than a whisper.

Eddie heard him, though.

He beamed up at Steve.

“You can be scared, but you can love me anyway,” Eddie shrugged, as if it could actually be that simple.

Love was a silly thing. 

Steve felt it easily, for Robin, for the kids, for the Byers’, even Nancy still. He’d known what he felt for Eddie was love way before this conversation, but he hadn’t realized how much that love could grow when it was reciprocated.

Eddie looked at him now like he already knew, like Steve holding back wasn’t changing the fact that Steve had loved him for months now, maybe even longer.

“You can love me, Stevie. I want you to love me. Love me the way you feel,” Eddie continued.

His words cut through his heart, but in a different way than Nancy’s had.

Steve never got to love people the way he felt, always too much, always overwhelming.

His parents taught him not to be needy, let people show their love from a distance and don’t force your attention and care on them.

Nancy taught him that he couldn’t be someone else just because he wanted to love someone, that he had to accept that love wasn’t always enough for a relationship.

Eddie, though.

Eddie had taught him that there was nothing shameful about being loud with your passion, with your love. He taught him that he can’t hold back his feelings, not for anyone, especially not for himself.

He was showing him, more every day, that loving someone can and should be fulfilling.

He couldn’t be scared of loving Eddie, not when Eddie had always shown him how to be brave.

“I love you so much,” Steve gasped out.

It wasn’t the declaration he’d planned, or even wanted, but that somehow made it better for them.

Eddie’s beaming smile proved that even further.

“I’m so in love with you, I don’t know what to do with it all. I just keep thinking that one day I’ll wake up and feel less, but I just keep feeling more. I’m not good with words like you are, but I love you,” Steve added, finally gaining his voice.

“Feels good, right?”

“To love you?”

Eddie leaned up, kissed his chin, then the corner of his mouth.

“To show it to someone who wants it.”

Steve bit his lip, realizing that yeah, it did feel good. Really good.

“You’re gonna get so tired of me loving you.”

It was said as a joke, but it was his last genuine fear. The one thing that he knew always happened.

“I will never get tired of you loving me. Not for a single second. Not even when we’re old dudes sitting on our porch yelling at the kids with the loud music,” Eddie poked his side as he spoke.

“You won’t ever yell at anyone for loud music.”

“You never know. I could become a grumpy old man. Will you still love me?” Eddie pouted up at him.

“I think I’d love any version of you. Actually, I know I would.” “And you say I’m the sappy one.”

[sixhours]

One Day at a Time - Chapter 3 - Embryo

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel Miller x f!OFC, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, SMUT, gratuitous smut, dubious consent (drunk sex), unplanned pregnancy, fluff, references to past miscarriages, angst, hurt/comfort, romance, age gap (~21 years), childbirth, fluffy baby stuff, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Days become weeks without word from Charlie. Every time he sees her, she gives him a little nod. Nothing overt, just enough to send a message.

We’re still here.

After two weeks, he’d found an old pocket calendar from 2001 and put it by his bed, and he marks off each day that passes with a big X. He’s done the math, and there’s a date in mid-December circled in red pen.

He can’t sleep for shit under the best of circumstances, but lately it’s impossible. He’s given up trying, choosing instead to crash on the couch with a movie playing on a loop in the background until a fitful sleep takes him.

He’s parked like this on the couch one night when the knock surprises him out of a half-doze. He fumbles for the remote and pauses the movie before answering the door.

It’s Charlie.

“I’m bleeding,” she says in lieu of a greeting.

His stomach sinks.

He reaches out without thinking, hands on her shoulders; she’s shivering. He pulls her forward into the warmth of the little house, closing the door behind her.

“Midwife says it could be normal or it could be a miscarriage,” she says flatly. “No way to tell yet.”

He seethes. He remembers Maria and Tommy telling him about the Jackson midwife; she was competent, but her bedside manner was shit.

“Does it…feel like…” He doesn’t know how to finish the sentence.

“I don’t know, I’ve never made it this far. I’m not cramping. It’s not a lot of blood. I just…you wanted me to tell you, so I’m telling you.”

He nods, feeling stupid and helpless and hating it.

“Uh…sit,” he says, gesturing to the couch. “Want tea? It’s herbal. No caffeine.”

She nods warily. “Sure…I guess.”

He sets the water to boil, gets out two mugs, pulls the little canister of tea from the shelf, and fills the infuser with dried peppermint leaves. He can’t stand the stuff, but Ellie won’t drink coffee like a normal person, so they always have some in the house.

He glances at Charlie from over his shoulder as he waits for the water to boil. She’s on the couch, arms wrapped around herself as if she could hold back the thing she fears by force of will.

“You take milk or anythin’?”

“Just sugar, if you have it.”

He does. The kettle whistles and he pours the steaming water over the leaves.

She takes the tea with a small, hollow smile and sips at it. He takes a seat in the armchair next to her.

“Is there anything we can do?”

She shakes her head. “Midwife said to check in tomorrow morning. If it gets worse before then, I’ll go to the clinic.”

“Okay,” he says. “I can…wait with you.”

She nods, takes another sip, and sinks back into the couch. Waiting.

The silence presses in around them. It’s like torture, and Joel wracks his tired brain for something, anything to say. She saves him the trouble, blinking with interest at the television screen.

“Is this Gunz Blazin’ 2 ?”

“Uh…yeah…”

“I haven’t seen it since I was a kid,” she says, smiling a little. “My dad and I used to watch these movies all the time. They’re awful.”

He swallows hard, thinking of Sarah.

She looks at him and picks up the remote. “Mind if I…?”

“Yeah, yeah…sure.”

She hits Play and sits back, curling her legs under her and clutching the tea in her hands.

The credits roll a couple of hours later. Charlie has nestled into the couch with a blanket over her lap, empty mug resting on the coffee table.

“S’it as bad as you remember?” Joel rasps.

“Yes. Maybe worse. But in a good way,” she smiles a little. “Nostalgic, I guess.”

He nods. “How’re you, uh, feelin’?”

“Fine,” she says automatically, then laughs. “Not fine, actually. I’m exhausted and I’m sick all the time and my boobs are so fucking sore I could—“

She stops. “Shit, I’m sorry. That’s more than you needed to know. My husband used to say I was born without a filter.”

“S’alright,” he murmurs, his face burning. “You’re, uh, married?”

“Was…or what passed for marriage in the QZ, I guess. We were cordyceps orphans…grew up together after the outbreak, protected each other…kept each other out of trouble. We had 17 years together before…before our luck ran out.”

“So he, uh…you and he…wanted kids?”

“Yeah,” she snorts. “Sounds pretty stupid, right? Bringing a baby into a quarantine zone?”

He bites his lip and doesn’t say anything. He knew people still brought children into this broken world, but he’d never considered it. His interest in that life had stopped when Sarah’s heart stopped beating.

“I miscarried three times,” she murmurs. “We might have kept trying if we’d made it to Jackson together…I don’t know.”

“What happened to him?”

She shrugs. “We ran into trouble on the way here. He was bit. I…took care of it. We always said that was the deal, that we wouldn’t let each other turn. He…he didn’t even flinch when I pulled the trigger.”

She’s looking down at her stomach now, tracing her fingers over the ridges in her shirt, lost in thought.

“I wasn’t looking for this any more than you were,” she says softly. “But I want it anyway…I–I can’t help it. Is that foolish?”

Her eyes bore into his then, not sad now, almost…angry. Challenging him to deny her this.

Joel doesn’t know how to answer, but he huffs a soft, “No.”

She rubs her palm slowly across her lower belly. “This is the longest I’ve ever made it. I didn’t have morning sickness or the…other symptoms before, so I thought…maybe…maybe this time…”

“It’s not over ‘til it’s over,” he says softly.

He wants to take her hand. Instead, he gathers their mugs and takes them to the sink.

“Oh…it’s late,” she says faintly. “I should go.”

He frowns. “You shouldn’t be alone. You can stay here tonight.”

“Oh, no—”

He shakes his head, cutting off her protest. “If somethin’ goes wrong or if you get…sick…someone should be with you. I could come to your place if that’s–or call a friend if you don’t want, uh, me–”

“It’s not that, Joel, but I’ve been through this before–”

“By yourself?”

She swallows hard and ducks her head. “No.”

“Then stay,” he says. “Just for the night. I can put you up in–”

He falters, thinking of Ellie’s old room, still decorated in ugly pink stripes. Meant for a teenager but too close to a nursery.

“You can stay in my room,” he says quickly. “I’ll take the couch. Usually end up down here anyway.”

“I couldn’t–”

“It’s fine,” he waves her off. “Can’t sleep for shit no matter where I land. C’mon.”

He makes for the stairs before she can argue, and breathes a sigh of relief when she follows. He pauses outside the door to his bedroom.

“Just, uh…wait here. Gimme a minute.”

He ducks into the room, picking up clothes and tossing them into the hamper. He strips the bed and digs wrinkled but clean sheets out of the linen closet. After a pause, he picks up the calendar and the red pen from the nightstand and stuffs them into his pocket.

“Should be all good. The bathroom’s, uh, right through there,” he gestures. “All yours. There’s, uh, pain medicine if you need it.”

“Thanks…”

“I’ll be downstairs,” he says. “If you need anything, if anything, uh, happens…just come get me. Or yell.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it,” he says.

“I will, Joel,” she murmurs. “Thanks.”

“G’night then.”

He goes back to his usual spot on the couch and lies down, staring at the little cracks in the living room ceiling. He won’t be able to sleep now. He thinks about the raw need in her voice as her fingers traced her stomach, the hitch in her breath, maybe this time …

He throws an arm across his eyes, trying to block out the thoughts. A small, grief-blackened part of him hates that he cares. Before Ellie, he could numb the pain with booze and pills and a lucrative career in smuggling. But he’s not that man anymore. It would be so much easier if he were, if he couldn’t feel the little flicker of hope in his chest.

The calendar and pen dig into his hip, and he pulls them out of his pocket. It’s well after midnight, so without thinking, he uncaps the pen and crosses off another day.

He must have fallen asleep. When he opens his eyes, the room is lighter, and Charlie is nudging his shoulder.

He’s upright before he’s fully awake. “What is it? Y’okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says quietly. “I’m going to go. The midwife said she’d see me at 7:00. I need to go home and change.”

“Right, okay. Do you, uh…do you want me to come with–”

“No,” she says quickly. “I haven’t told her…or anyone…about you.”

“Right,” he blinks. “Um. Let me know…okay?”

She nods, holding her arms around her middle like she could protect herself from the worst. Without thinking, he reaches out and touches the back of her hand. She doesn’t pull away.

“Sorry,” he mutters, withdrawing. “I…I hope it works out,” he says lamely.

“Do you?” she asks, with an edge of bitterness in her voice. She’s immediately contrite. “I’m sorry. You’ve been kind, and that was…cruel. Missing my filter again.”

“It’s…fine.”

He wants to tell her he does have hope, despite himself, but she’s already out the door.

Charlie hasn’t been gone for five minutes when there’s a knock.

Shit.

He’s on the schedule for a construction job and he’d promised to meet Tommy early. Now he’s late.

“I’m comin’,” he mutters, wincing at the stiffness in his back. “Hold your goddamned horses.”

“Long night?” Tommy smirks on the other side of the door. “Thought I saw Charlie doin’ the walk of shame–”

“Shut it,” Joel growls, surprising himself at the bite in his voice. “Don’t say another fuckin’ word.”

Tommy’s hands coming up in mock defense. “Whoa, easy. Didn’t know it was like that.”

“It’s not,” Joel snaps.

“Alright,” he says, peering at his older brother curiously. “So…you ready to go?”

“Yeah. Lemme get my stuff.”

He’s distracted all day. The work is simple enough–framing a new barn for the sheep, to replace one that’s been infested by termites beyond repair. It should be easy, but he’s overtired and he can’t seem to make his hands behave. Tommy keeps having to repeat himself, giving Joel curious looks. 

“You’re losin’ it, big brother,” he says amiably when Joel brings him a jar of the wrong-size screws for the second time in a row.

It’s mid-afternoon when he brings the hammer down on his middle finger. He watches the whole thing as though in slow motion, knowing exactly what’s going to happen well before he feels the pain, but he’s powerless to stop it.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” he hisses, shaking out his injured hand. Purplish red blood is already blooming under the wide, flat nail. He resists the urge to stick the finger in his mouth to soothe the throbbing ache like a child.

“You break it?” Tommy’s looking over his shoulder.

“No,” he growls. “Just a bruise.”

“Yeah, right. Well, you’re done for today,” Tommy says. “Go home. Made good progress, anyway, we’re almost done.”

Joel shoots him a look, but it doesn’t affect his younger brother in the slightest. It never does. So he relents, packing his tools and trudging away, finger throbbing.

He sees her on the walk home.

Charlie is standing with someone just outside the caf. She looks about as tired as he feels, but then she sees him and brightens, the subtlest glimmer as she catches his eye. The look stops him in mid-stride, frozen in the middle of the street.

She gives him a little nod.

Warmth spreads through his chest, a flood of relief, and that blasted hope again.

We’re still here.

[viric-dreams]

It’s been weeks since the constable’s death, since Jones’ nightmare had ended. And yet he can’t sleep at night. 

He’s dead. Then why does he see him around every corner? 

Made to look like an accident. The papers could be lying. 

You have an alibi on the other side of London. The blood was hosed from the dock before he’d ever had the chance to see it. 

It’s over. How can it be? When he’d done nothing. Known nothing. Had the problem taken from his hands, supplicated with the assurance that it’s all over with now. Taken care of. Does he Believe?

He all but lives in the church now. He’s certainly not going to work. He can’t look any of them in the eyes. Especially not him. He knows what will happen if he does, and Shaw does not deserve his misdirected anger. The vicar doesn’t deserve it either, and yet he’s become the unintended target of his ire, of barely bitten back words and his acrid mood, seeping into every surface. And even a man of God has his limits. 

“I think you need to leave, Robin. Come back when you’ve cooled down.”

And if he can’t? If he can’t get his head on straight, can’t be the calm and inoffensive Mr Jones he’s supposed to go on stage and play, can’t look at a pastry without feeling his stomach turn…?

He doesn’t return to the church. He can find salvation at home. 

He can do many things at home. He can

he can

he

He needs to get out of here. 

The letter from the surface arrives at his door not a moment too soon. His “Koloman” companion, the one from Cornwall, wants to meet. In person. She was always sympathetic to their cause. He was so close to turning her before. Before the letters became harder and harder to write, the right words missing from his mind, replaced with exhausted looping thoughts, and that vile, unpleasant blistering feeling beneath his skin. 

He writes her back. He’ll meet her. Perhaps not the UK (she has no need to know what will happen should he be caught on British soil), but somewhere closer. How about France?

It’s not a request hes submits to the Game, it’s a statement. He’s going to the surface to try to recruit her. Shaw is going to pull the strings to make it happen. He won’t deny him this. He can't. Not now.

And so he packs his bag, closes his house, and leaves on a steamer bound for the Cumaean Canal. Let him leave the ghosts and his black mood behind in the darkness. He needs the change and the light.

Neither the Game nor his contact need to know about the second letter, Cardiff-bound, the one he’d mailed alongside his response.

My Dearest Lottie,

It’s been far too long since you’ve last heard from me, and I apologise. Perhaps what I have to say next can make up for it: Are you able to come to Brittany posthaste? Bring the kids, or leave them with mother if you cannot. Whatever the case, tell no one. I don’t know for how long I’m able to stay, but it’s been far too long since I’ve seen your smiling face. I’ve missed you, Lottie, more than words can possibly express. This may be our best chance to see each other again. I’ll be departing soon, but I’ve forwarded you the address of where to find me. God willing, we’ll finally meet again face-to-face. The thought is a ray of sunlight in the dark. Be well, and, I pray, until soon.

Your loving brother,  -Robin

[b0amagination]

Tastes of Whumptober: Day 31

My beloveds are here to send off Whumptober <3 It's been a truly incredible experience to not only stay on track with, but to actually complete. I still can't believe I did that. I'll be continuing some of what I started here, just give me a minute to rest my typing fingers <3

Content warnings for: mental health evaluation, mentions of suicide, and suicidal ideation.

Therapy

“Seriously?”

“Come on, Dec. Lay down, relax.”

Declan frowned and reluctantly reclined back on the couch, resting his head against the arm.

“On your back…”

“I could not give less of a shit, Hasan.”

“You can’t calm down when you look at me.” Hasan crossed their knees, settling a clipboard in their lap. “This is supposed to be a therapeutic environment.”

“Therapeutic my ass.”

“Yes, darling? Shall I give it a massage?”

“Shut up.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes.

“A spanking then, love?”

“Fuck off, Hasan!” He shot up and bared his teeth, but they ignored his discomfort.

“How often would you say you experience little or no pleasure in doing things?”

“Every single second I have to deal with your sorry self.”

Their clothes rustled and something clinked on the coffee table next to him. His eyes flicked over to see Hasan setting down their belt, the heavy buckle meeting glass.

“Tell the truth and I won’t use it today. Or anything else for that matter.” Well, his attention was piqued but he still leveled his gaze, glowering. “Now tell me again. How often do you experience little or no pleasure in doing things?”

“What kind of things?”

“Let’s say hobbies. Watching television, playing games, and so on.” They were clicking their pen in the silence.

“Probably half the time,” he mumbled.

“Would you say several days this past week, or more than half the days?”

“Picky much? The latter.”

“How often have you felt down, depressed, or hopeless?”

“It’s a little hard to separate my mental health from your influence.”

“Estimate, my dear. You’re stalling.”

He was, but his question didn’t come without merit either.

“Every day then.”

“Do you experience trouble falling asleep, staying asleep, or sleeping too much?”

“Sometimes. Depends how much you torture me.”

“Touché. Have you been experiencing tiredness or low energy?”

“Constantly.” The pen circled another number. “You know I’ve done this a million times before, right? I know I’m depressed.”

“You told me before that you were in remission.”

“Something like that, at some point. I’m not perfect.”

“I didn’t say you should be. I want to understand your state of mind, sweetheart. Have you had a poor appetite or been overeating?”

“Not really. Probably no.”

“Alright. And do you feel bad about yourself? That you’re a failure, or have let people down?” 

“No, Jesus, you just want me to talk about being miserable.”

“Declan.” They raised a brow, flicking the belt buckle. “Truth. Now.”

“...sometimes.”

“Interesting.”

“Don’t interesting me-!”

“Have you had trouble concentrating on activities?”

“Yeah, on weekdays. Always checking the goddamn time for some reason.”

“And how about speed? Are you moving so slowly or so erratically that others would have noticed?”

“That’s a question for you, isn’t it?”

“What answer would you expect?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“I would agree. And in the past week, have you had any thoughts of hurting yourself, or thoughts that you would be better off dead?”

“I think you hurt me enough for the both of us, Hasan.” Declan crossed his arms and turned away, staring into the cushions. “Circle the one and leave me alone.”

“Do you have a plan?”

“Excuse you?”

“You know precisely what I’m asking.”

“No, asshole. No I don’t. But if you wanna pink slip me, then be my guest.”

“Just covering my bases.” Hasan stood, picking up their belt.

“Woah! You said you wouldn’t!” He shoved himself back into the couch, watching with wide eyes as they threaded it back through their belt loops.

“I did indeed.” They fastened it and picked up the clipboard, tucking it under their arm and tapping it again with the pen. “We’re going to keep that in check, whether you like it or not.”

[sophsiaaa]

going home

CHAPTER 1

bnha masterlist

pairing: tomura shigaraki x fem reader

summary: Stranded in another world that eerily follows the plot of your favourite manga, you find yourself sucked into the story, trapped on the side of the villains. You're just a girl who knows too much and wants to go home, but with Tomura Shigaraki watching you, escape won't be easy.

notes: I know this is a kinda cringey premise but I've had this idea trapped in my head for months and I love shigaraki so here.

chapter contains: attempted sexual assault (not shigaraki), canon typical violence

——————————————————————————————————

Shigaraki

Tomura was in a bad mood. 

This whole business with the Hero Killer had really pissed him off. Made worse by the fact that the media was still looping his arrest footage, his oh so tragic backstory. Every convenience store and outlet on the way back from the mall was running it.  

But what about his Nomu? They’d terrorized Hosu. They should be on the front page. He’d attacked the USJ. His master had promised that the world would learn to fear him. This was bullshit. Fucking Stain .  

Tomura ducked his head low beneath the dark shadow of his hood, keeping to the alleys and deserted side streets on his way back to the bar. The sun was dipping below the horizon, night rising, but it was still best to be careful. After all, he’d just held that Midoriya kid hostage at the mall and there were bound to be heroes looking for him by now. They could look all they liked, with Father in his pocket instead of on his face, he’d be unrecognizable. Unlike Stain, his face wasn’t being blasted on TVs across Japan.  

At least that little mall trip had helped. Tomura was still pissed, but now he had some clarity, something to work for. Killing All Might and forcing this rotten society to question just how secure its sense of peace and justice was. Yeah , he liked the sound of that.  

He grinned and kicked a can down the street. It clanked against the pavement in a hollow roll, but its tin-rattle was quickly drowned out by the voices Tomura heard in the next lane over.  

He slipped around the corner and raised a brow at the scene before him.  

There was a woman on the ground in a pile of rubbish and a blanket, looking wide-eyed up at two guys standing above her. She looked like shit, but that didn’t seem to phase the men. They were practically licking their lips as they leered down at her ragged figure. Gross .  

Tomura thought he might have seen them around before, they were pretty generic looking; just two NPCs playing at being villains. Clearly low level. The taller one had no obvious quirk, and his hair stuck up in pineapple spikes, sleeve tattoos plastered to his skin. The shorter one, who was now grabbing the woman roughly by her shirt and yanking her up, had massive radio-dish ears – a hearing quirk of some sort. Potentially useful.  

“Pretty stupid of you to be sleeping out here where anyone could grab ya!” said Radio-Head.  

The woman leaned as far back as she could. “Let me go!” she said, in English.  

Tomura raised his other brow. He could understand English well enough, though he was better at reading than speaking. His master had wanted him prepared to make allies with whomever it took, Japanese or foreigner. Still, it was jarring to hear her English against the familiar Japanese of the two men who had her.  

“Foreigner?” said Pineapple-Head. “No way. This is great!” 

“Yeah, means she won’t go to the heroes. They’d never believe her!” Radio-Head yanked her close and she yelped, kicking out at his knees only to be pressed against the rough brick of the alley wall. “Isn’t that right lovely?”  

“Fuck off! Let me go!” she said, again in English. She bit Radio-Head's fingers when he tried to press a palm over her mouth.  

He jumped back and Pineapple-Head pinned her arms instead. “You good?” he asked.  

“Fucking bitch bit me!”  

Tomura had had enough of watching this cutscene like some creepy vouyer. He shoved his hands in his pockets, pinkies tucked into his palms, and slipped out of the shadows, heading down the alley toward the bar. The two men startled, caught like misbehaving kids. Pineapple-Head almost jumped out of his tattoos. Radio-Head pulled out a knife and stood in the way. He hid his throbbing fingers. Tomura smirked. Heh . The woman was clearly pretty stupid if she let herself be caught sleeping out here, but at least she wasn’t just rolling over for these losers. Even now, she was trying to wriggle free as the men glared Tomura down like he was a threat, a bigger dog who might wrench away their bone. 

“Fuck are you doing here?” Radio-Head said. “Can’t you see this alley’s taken? 

“Yeah, piss off man!” said Pineapple-Head in the lamest gangster voice ever. 

Tomura scowled. Who the hell were these bastards to tell him to leave? Did they have any idea who they were dealing with?  

The woman called out this time. “Help!” she said and strained towards him.  

Tomura’s scowl only deepened. What, did she think he was her hero or something? This was her own mess. He needed to get back to the bar before Kurogiri bugged him. Plus, he had those new recruits to deal with – the crazy girl and the ugly guy with patchwork scars.  

“Get going before I make you!” said Radio-Head, brandishing his knife. It gleamed white in the rising moonlight. The bastard was all confidence as he barrelled closer.  

Tomura didn’t like that. Didn’t appreciate being threatened .  

He huffed. “You really think you could make me leave?” And he took a step forward, fingers itching in his hoodie, the weight of Father suddenly heavier. He was just going to leave; this woman wasn’t his problem. But these cocky assholes were just begging to be destroyed.  

And besides, he was still in a bad mood .  

Pineapple-Head was starting to move his palms toward the woman’s chest when Radio-Head lurched forward. The knife swiped in an ungraceful arch, missing Tomura almost comically. Off balance, Radio-Head fell forward, caught only by four fingers.  

“You know, you really should be more careful with that thing.” The knife clattered against the ground as Tomura pressed a fifth finger down. “Somebody might get hurt .” 

Radio-Head couldn’t even scream as his body turned to ash.  

“What the fuck?!” Pineapple-Head, finally catching on, forgot the woman and dashed for Tomura. He had no weapons, but he extended a palm and blinding light spewed out in an arrow. An emitter quirk, then.  

Tomura ducked it but had to squint as he reached out and held Pineapple-Head's face in his palm. The creep struggled and gasped, a fish on the chopping block, as veins of decay spread over his skin. He didn’t turn straight to dust, but rather, fell to the floor in chunks. His blood ran in lines through the grooves of the pavement.  

Tomura grinned. The thrill of destruction coursed through him, had his heart pounding. He’d killed them. The incessant itch that had bothered him since the Stain incident dissipated just a bit and he breathed deeply. Damn that felt good.  

“You killed them.”  

Oh, right. He forgot about her. 

The woman had cowered back in her nest of squalor, palms pressed flat to the ground, back against the wall, eyes rimmed with the glass of coming tears. She cast her gaze between her villainous saviour and the two dead piles of men.  

“Yeah, I did,” Tomura said in English. He grinned wider and stepped toward her. One more kill couldn’t hurt. Besides, this woman had seen his face. Seen him kill. It’s not like he could let her live.  

But as he approached, fingers poised to kill, she suddenly stood up. “Thank you!” she said. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She whispered it to herself, over and over, lowering her head in relief.  

Tomura hesitated. His movements stuttered. Was she seriously thanking him right now?  

She looked up at him, and there was something sickly about her that made Tomura almost feel sorry for her. A pallidness, a darkness. An otherness. She looked like she'd been sleeping in this alley for a while. She looked pathetic.  

Tomura pursed his lips and shook his hood back on. “Whatever,” he said in Japanese. He walked away, reaching for Father, for the sick comfort of the hand over his face. He really should kill her. He headed back toward the bar. 

“Wait!” Footsteps.  

Tomura ignored her, feeling an itch creep up his neck. The woman jogged up beside him, following.  

“Hey, please!”  

He could feel her looking at him as she struggled to keep pace. Would she just piss off already before he changed his mind? He didn’t have time for this side quest. “Go away.”  

“I need help.” 

The itch grew worse. “Do I look like a hero to you?” Tomura hissed.  

She stepped in front of him. "Please. Can you-" she paused, looked up at the hand on his face. Recognition lighted her eyes. She backed away. "Oh, you're..."

Her back was against the alley wall in a second, Tomura’s four fingered grip around her throat. He squeezed hard. He itched harder. This was more like it, the fear in her eyes, not that sappy gratefulness. Finally, someone who knew who he was.

He bared his teeth, scarred skin pulling tight. "Oh, you recognise me? That's nice."

The woman couldn't even speak.

“I did tell you to piss off,” he mumbled in Japanese, a little lightness entering his voice, a little laughter. He reached up and scratched, nails dragging coarse red lines over his neck. So itchy. “I'm glad to be noticed," he switched back to English, "but can't have you running to tell the heroes where I am, so...”

He pressed his fifth finger down.  

And nothing happened.  

No relief, no thrill, no death. The woman stared down at him, her pulse rapid in her throat. She didn’t decay. Tomura pressed in harder, as though he could tear into her flesh and turn her to dust. But she just wheezed. His quirk had no effect on her.  

His bloodshot eyes went wide. Why the hell wasn’t she dying ?  

“ Please ,” she said. "Don't."

Tomura sucked in a harsh breath; his eyes slitted into vicious papercuts. It must be her quirk. Some sort of immunity, like Eraserhead. He was touching her, skin to skin, hand on neck, and she wasn’t dead.

“What’s your quirk?” he demanded.  

The woman grimaced, tugging at his hand. “Quirk?”  

“Yeah. Tell me.” Tomura leaned closer, breath on her face. He needed to know. He needed...

But no amount of closeness could have prepared him for her response.  

She took a weak breath and shook her head. “I don't have a quirk...”  

Before Tomura could even understand what she meant, her eyes slipped closed and her head lulled into strangled unconsciousness.  

[shuxiii]

Everyday pt.17

Hanni Pham x reader pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4, pt5, pt6, pt7, pt8, pt9, pt10, pt11, pt12, pt13, pt14, pt15, pt16, pt18

A/n credits "everyday" by david levithan. Theres a slight mention of fatphobia, im not sure of its considered so i apologize if im wrong.

Day 6024

No alarm wakes me the next day. Instead, I awake to find a mother—someone’s mother, my mother—sitting at the edge of my bed, watching me. She is sorry to wake me, I can see, but that sorrow is a minor part of a much larger sadness. She touches my leg lightly.

“It’s time to wake up,” she says quietly, as if she wants the transition from sleep to waking to be the easiest it can be. “I’ve hung your clothes on the door of the closet. We’ll be leaving in about forty-five minutes. Your father is … very upset. We all are. But he’s taking this particularly hard, so just … give him room, okay?”

While she’s talking to me, I don’t really have the focus to figure out who I am or what’s going on. But after she leaves and I see the dark suit hanging on the closet door, I piece it all together.

My grandfather has died, and I’m about to go to my first funeral.

I tell my mother I forgot to tell friends to cover me for homework, and get on the computer to let Hanni know that it’s not likely I’ll be able to see her today. From what I can tell, the service is at least two hours away. At least we won’t be spending the night.

My father has stayed in my parents’ bedroom for most of the morning, but as I’m hitting send on my message to Hanni, he emerges. He doesn’t just look upset—he looks newly blind. There is such loss in his eyes, and it permeates every other part of his body. A tie hangs feebly from his neck, barely knotted.

“Marc,” he says to me. “Marc.” This is my name, and coming from his lips right now it sounds like both an incantation and a cry of disbelief. I have no idea how to react.

Marc’s mother sweeps in.

“Oh, honey,” she says, wrapping her arms around her husband for a second, then pulling back to straighten his tie. She turns to me and asks me if I’m ready to go.

I clear the history, turn off the computer, and tell her I just need to put on my shoes.

The car ride to the funeral is largely silent. The news plays on the radio, but after the third loop, I don’t think any of us are listening. Instead, I imagine that Marc’s mother and father are doing the same thing that I’m doing—accessing memories of Marc’s grandfather.

Most of the memories I find are wordless. Silent, strong stretches of sitting together in fishing boats, waiting for a pull on the line. The sight of him sitting at the head of the Thanksgiving table, carving the turkey like it was his birthright to do so. When I was younger, he took me to the zoo—all I can remember is the authority in his voice as he told me about the lions and the bears. I don’t remember the lions or the bears themselves, just the sense of them that he created.

There’s my grandmother’s death, before I really knew what death meant. She is the ghost in the background of all of these memories, but I am sure she is much more prominent in my parents’ thoughts. My own thoughts now turn to the last few months, the sight of my grandfather’s diminishment, the awkwardness between us as I grew taller than him and he seemed to shrink into himself, into age. His death was still a surprise—we knew it was coming, but not that particular day. My mother was the one to answer the phone. I didn’t have to hear her words to know something was wrong. She drove to my father’s office to tell him. I wasn’t there. I didn’t see it.

It is my father who looks diminished now. As if when someone close to us dies, we momentarily trade places with them, in the moment right before. And as we get over it, we’re really living their life in reverse, from death to life, from sickness to health.

The fish in all the nearby lakes and rivers will be safe today, because it seems like every fisherman in the state of Maryland is here at the funeral. There are few suits to be seen, and fewer ties. My extended family is here, too—crying cousins, tearful aunts, stoic uncles. My father seems to be taking it the hardest, and he is the magnet for everyone else’s condolences. My mother and I stand at his side, and get nods and pats on the shoulder.

I feel like a complete imposter. I am observing, trying to record as much as I can for Marc’s memories, because I know he is going to want to have been here, is going to want to remember this.

I am not prepared for the open casket, to have Marc’s grandfather right there in front of me when we walk into the chapel. We are in the front row, and I can’t take my eyes off of it. This is what a body looks like with nothing inside. If I could step out of Marc for a moment—if he did not come back in—this is what he would look like. It’s very different from sleeping, no matter how much the undertaker has tried to make it look like sleeping.

Marc’s grandfather grew up in this town, and has been a member of this congregation for his whole life. There’s a lot to be said, and a lot of emotion in the saying of it. Even the preacher seems moved—so used to saying the words, but not for someone who he’s cared about. Marc’s father gets up to speak, and his body seems at war with his sentences—every time he tries to release one, his breath stops, his shoulders seize. Marc’s mother goes up and stands next to him. It looks like he’s going to ask her to read his words for him, but then he decides against it. Instead, he puts away the speech. He talks. He unspools the memories, and sometimes they have knots in them, and sometimes they are frayed, but they are the things he thinks of when he thinks about his father. Around him, the congregation laughs and cries and nods in recognition.

Tears are welling up in my eyes, streaming down my face. At first I don’t understand it, because I don’t really know the man they’re talking about—I don’t know any of the people in this room. I am not a part of this … and that is why I’m crying. Because I am not a part of this, and will never be a part of something like this. I’ve known this for a while, but you can know something for years without it really hitting you. Now it’s hitting me. I will never have a family to grieve for me. I will never have people feel about me the way they feel about Marc’s grandfather. I will not leave the trail of memories that he’s left. No one will ever have known me or what I’ve done. If I die, there will be no body to mark me, no funeral to attend, no burial. If I die, there will be nobody but Hanni who will ever know I’ve been here.

I cry because I am so jealous of Marc’s grandfather, because I am jealous of anyone who can make other people care so much.

Even after my father’s done speaking, I am sobbing. When my parents return to the pew, they sit on either side of me, comforting me.

I cry for a little while longer, knowing full well that Marc will remember these as tears for his grandfather, that he will never remember I’ve been here at all.

Such a strange ritual, to send the body into the ground. I am there as they lower him. I am there as we say our prayers. I take my place in the line as the dirt is shoveled onto the coffin.

He will never again have this many people thinking of him at a single time. Even though I never knew him, I wish he were here to see it.

We go back to his house afterward. Soon enough there will be sorting and dispersing, but now it’s the museum backdrop for the exhibition of grief. Stories are told—sometimes the same exact story in different rooms. I don’t know many of the people here, but that’s not a failure of accessing. There were simply more people in Marc’s grandfather’s life than his grandson could comprehend.

After the food and the stories and the consolation, there’s the drinking, and after the drinking, there’s the ride home. Marc’s mother has stayed sober the whole time, so she’s behind the wheel as we make our way back in the darkness. I can’t tell if Marc’s father is asleep or lost in thought.

“It’s been a long day,” Marc’s mother murmurs. Then we listen to the news wrap around itself, repeat at half-hour intervals until we are finally home.

I try to pretend this is my life. I try to pretend these are my parents. But it all feels hollow, because I know better.

Day 6025

The next morning it’s hard to raise my head from the pillow, hard to raise my arms from my sides, hard to raise my body from the bed.

This is because I must weigh at least three hundred pounds.

I have been heavy before, but I don’t think I’ve ever been this heavy. It’s as if sacks of meat have been tied to my limbs, to my torso. It takes so much more effort to do anything. Because this is not muscular heaviness. I am not a linebacker. No, I’m fat. Flabby, unwieldy fat.

When I finally take a look around and take a look inside, I’m not very excited about what I see. Finn Taylor has retreated from most of the world; his size comes from negligence and laziness, a carelessness that would be pathological if it had any meticulousness to it. While I’m sure if I access deep enough I will find some well of humanity, all I can see on the surface is the emotional equivalent of a burp.

I trudge to the shower, pick a ball of lint the size of a cat’s paw out of Finn’s belly button. I have to push hard to get anything done. There must have come a time when it became too exhausting to do anything, and Finn just gave in to it.

Within five minutes of getting out of the shower, I’m sweating.

I don’t want Hanni to see me like this. But I have to see Hanni—I can’t cancel on her for a second day in a row, not when things feel so precarious between us.

I warn her. I say in my email that I am huge today. But I still want to see her after school. I’m close to the Clover Bookstore today, so I propose that as a meeting place.

I pray that she’ll come.

There’s nothing in Finn’s memory that leads me to believe that he’d be upset about missing school, but I go anyway. I’ll let him save his absences for when he’s actually conscious of them.

Because of the size of this body, I must concentrate much harder than I usually do. Even the small things—my foot on the gas pedal, the amount of space I have to leave around me in the halls—require major adjustment.

And there are the looks I get—such undisguised disgust. Not just from other students. From teachers. From strangers. The judgment flows freely. It’s possible that they’re reacting to the thing that Finn has allowed himself to become. But there’s also something more primal, something more defensive in their disgust. I am what they fear becoming.

I’ve worn black today, because I’ve heard so often that it’s supposed to be slimming. But instead I am this sphere of darkness submarining through the halls.

The only respite is lunch, where Finn has his two best friends, Ralph and Dylan. They’ve been best friends since third grade. They make fun of Finn’s size, but it’s clear they don’t really care. If he were thin, they’d make fun of him for that, too.

I feel I can relax around them.

I go home after school to take another shower and change. As I’m drying myself off, I wonder if I could plant a traumatic memory in Finn’s brain, something so shocking that he’d stop eating so much. Then I’m horrified at myself for even thinking such a thing. I remind myself that it’s not my business to tell Finn what to do.

I’ve put on Finn’s best clothes—an XXXL button-down and some size 46 jeans—to meet up with Hanni. I even try a tie, but it looks ridiculous, ski-sloping off my stomach.

The chairs are wobbly underneath me at the bookstore’s café. I decide to walk the aisles instead, but they’re too narrow, and I keep knocking things off the shelves. In the end, I wait for her out front.

She spots me right away; it’s not like she can miss me. The recognition’s in her eyes, but it’s not a particularly happy one.

“Hey,” I say.

“Yeah, hey.”

We just stand there.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“Just taking you all in, I guess.”

“Don’t look at the package. Look at what’s inside.”

“That’s easy for you to say. I never change, do I?”

Yes and no, I think. Her body’s the same. But a lot of the time, I feel like I’m meeting a slightly different Hanni. As if each mood presents a variation.

“Let’s go,” I say.

“Where to?”

“Well, we’ve been to the ocean and to the mountain and to the woods. So I thought this time we’d try … dinner and a movie.”

This gets a smile.

“That sounds suspiciously like a date,” she says.

“I’ll even buy you flowers if you’d like.”

“Go ahead,” she dares. “Buy me flowers.”

Hanni is the only girl in the movie theater with a dozen roses on the seat next to her. She is also the only girl whose companion is spilling over his chair and into hers. I try to make it less awkward by draping my arm around her. But then I’m conscious of my sweat, of how my fleshy arm must feel against the back of her neck. I’m also conscious of my breathing, which wheezes a little if I exhale too much. After the previews are over, I move over a seat. But then I move my hand to the seat in between us, and she takes it. We last like that for at least ten minutes, until she pretends she has an itch, and doesn’t return her hand to mine.

I’ve chosen a nice place for dinner, but that doesn’t guarantee that it will be a nice dinner.

She keeps staring at me—staring at Finn.

“What is it?” I finally ask.

“It’s just that … I can’t see you inside. Usually I can. Some glimmer of you in the eyes. But not tonight.”

In some way, this is flattering. But the way she says it, it’s also disheartening.

“I promise I’m in here.”

“I know. But I can’t help it. I just don’t feel anything. When I see you like this, I don’t. I can’t.”

“That’s okay. The reason you’re not seeing it is because he’s so unlike me. You’re not feeling it because I’m not like this. So in a way, it’s consistent.”

“I guess,” she says, spearing some asparagus.

She doesn’t sound convinced. And I feel I’ve already lost if we’ve gotten to the convincing stage.

It doesn’t feel like a date. It doesn’t feel like friendship. It feels like something that fell off the tightrope but hasn’t yet hit the net.

Our cars are still at the bookstore, so we head back there. Instead of cradling her roses, she dangles them at her side, as if at any moment she might need to use them as a bat.

“What’s going on?” I ask her.

“Just an off night, I guess.” She holds the roses up to her nose, smells them. “We’re allowed to have off nights, right? Especially considering …”

“Yeah. Especially considering.”

If I were in a different body, this would be the time I would lean down and kiss her. If I were in a different body, that kiss could transform the night from off to on. If I were in a different body, she would see me inside. She would see what she wanted to see.

But now it’s awkward.

She holds the roses to my nose. I breathe in the perfume.

“Thanks for the flowers,” she says.

That is our goodbye.

[queenimmadolla]

𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃

(dad!eddie x mom/pregnant!reader)

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏 ─ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 ─ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟑 • more of the pennyverse here.

Summary: . . . After almost losing you in a scare related to your preterm labor, Eddie is reluctant to meet his newborn son, whose life still remains on the line, until some convincing from you. warnings: angst, a whole lot of angst, near death experience, difficult pregnancy, early labor, preterm birth, talk of loss of infants, birth defects, happy ending.

a/n: no, you're not seeing things, again. my anti went ahead and took it upon themselves to flag something that is SFW as m*ture so tumblr has forcibly labeled and hidden it. i've already put in the appeal, but tumblr has yet to remove the community labels from the appeals i've won; therefore, i have no faith in them. reposting so hopefully it find the people who loved it. the original can be found on my masterlist, not likely to pop up in the tag. reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated. let me know what you think? ◡̈

Hours passed by, Penny had fallen asleep in his lap again and so had most of his friends with the exceptions of Jonathan who looked like he could really use the sleep, Eden and Wayne. Steve would snap awake every once and a while, careful not to jostle his sleeping girlfriend. Nancy was asleep on Jonathan’s shoulder while Argyle used Eden’s lap for a pillow. Barb and Robin were hanging off chairs in the most uncomfortable looking positions, Robin’s snores almost painful sounding. The ‘kids’ (teenagers) had been picked up by their parents, only agreeing to go home if they could come back to wait with him first thing in the morning. 

  Eddie didn’t rest for a single second, mind torturing him with horrible, horrible thoughts. One played in his mind on loop; he was holding Penny as he walked out of the hospital. They were on their own.

  It held him captive, he hadn’t even noticed your doctor approaching him until she gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Mr. Munson?”

  Wayne and Eddie traded quick glances and he handed Penny over, trying not to disturb her too much in his rush but she just curled up to Wayne.

  Eddie stood up, already feeling lightheaded. That voice in his head that had been torturing him whispered something cruel to him, enough to make him want to cease existing: maybe you, somewhere in this hospital, already gone and he didn’t know it. Was she about to confirm his worst fears?

  “I apologize for the fright we gave you. Your wife started hemorrhaging and she lost a lot of blood.”

  Yeah. Eddie’s world was ending. It was over.

  “But we were able to stop the bleeding and get her a transfusion. She’s stable and she’s going to be just fine.”

  The relief was almost crippling, the heaviest weight he’d ever felt on him was lifted. Eddie wanted to cry, he squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to compose himself before he broke down in front of another doctor.

  “We have her in a room, probably hold her for a couple of nights, depending on her recovery. Would you like to go see her?”

  “Yeah, yes, please.” He nodded rapidly, wiping furiously at his eyes. 

  Dr. Eisenberg nodded and began walking down the hall, “If you’ll follow me.”

  Eddie turned, ready to ask Wayne to look after Penny when Wayne cut him off, “Go. I'll let ‘em all know she’s okay and send ‘em home. They probably won’t be able to see her tonight or in the mornin’, but I’ll stick around. Let me know when I can come on up.”

  Eddie wanted to hug him, but he really needed to see you. 

  “Thank you, Wayne. For everything.” Then he was scrambling after Dr. Eisenberg, who had stopped to wait for him.

  The walk to your hospital room had Eddie ready to tear his hair out, he’d wanted to just ask your doctor for your room number so he could sprint the rest of the way because her pace was much too slow. He was desperate to get to you, to make sure you were really still alive.

  “Here we are,” she stated, pushing your room door open. “Hello, again, Mrs. Munson. I brought someone who’s been waiting for you.”

  Eddie’s breath hitched as Dr. Eisenberg stepped to the side and he finally saw you, eyelids heavy from whatever sedation you were still trying to pull yourself from, and a smile on your face that only widened when you locked eyes. 

  “Hi, baby,” you slurred, sleepy little smile not going anywhere. And neither were you. 

  The rush of emotions he was experiencing was too much, he burst into tears where he stood as Dr. Eisenberg closed the door behind her on her way out. 

  “Eddie…” you mumbled out, reaching the hand lacking an IV out to him. 

  Of course you were trying to comfort him, you were the one confined to a hospital bed, having just barely survived a traumatic birth and you were still trying to comfort him because you were perfect. 

  He slowly approached your bed, hot tears—he was surprised his body could even still produce more tears given how much he’d cried in the last few hours alone—streaming down his cheek. Eddie really did collapse when he reached you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

  You wrapped your arms around him, holding him to your chest as best as you could, though you had no idea why he was crying, brain too hazy.

  Eddie didn’t sob, just silently shook as he wet your neck, inhaled your scent, felt your warm skin and pulse beating beneath his lips. He hadn’t lost you, you were still here.

  Ideally, he’d be holding you and squeezing you hard enough to ensure you’d never leave his arms again, but even in his emotional hysteria, he was mindful of your condition.

  Eddie pulled away, large hands framing your face as he pressed desperate kisses all over your face, making sure every inch was caressed with his love before he focused on your lips, mouth meshing messily against yours.

  You could taste the salt of his tears, feel a couple of stray ones catching where your lips met. While he may have been feeling a mixture of emotions, all you could feel right then was content and still a bit sleepy from the anesthesia.

  When Eddie felt he’d conveyed his love for you sufficiently, he pulled away, a wet and hoarse chuckle escaping him when he realized you could barely keep your eyes open.

  “You sleepy, baby?”

  “Mhmm.”

  “Get some rest, sweetheart,” Eddie’s thumb stroked over your bottom lip before resting over the center of it, “just, please wake up.”

  “Okay,” you mumbled, eyes already shut. Still, you managed to press a kiss to his thumb before you slipped into a blissful slumber.

  While you slept, Eddie had one of the nurses phone up the waiting room and sent Wayne. The poor man looked exhausted, but the relief on his face was evident when he saw you sleeping peacefully. 

   He looked like he wanted to cry, too. Instead, he just cleared his throat, blinked to keep the tears away and spoke low so as to not disturb you or the sleeping toddler in his arms.

  “Everythin’ alright?”

  “With her?” Eddie’s red rimmed gaze drifted back to you, focused on the rise and fall of your chest. Still breathing, “Yeah.”

  Wayne nodded once and they both stood there in silence for a few minutes as the world began to turn again. Something still wasn’t right, felt wrong. He could tell by the tension his boy still had, arms crossed as he crouched in the seat next to your bed. 

  “And the baby?”

  Eddie flinched as if Wayne had shot a gun off in the air rather than mention his son.

  “I don’t know.”

  Wayne watched him with a careful eye, Eddie looked almost like he was vibrating from the force at which his leg was shaking, even your hospital bed appeared to be affected by it, though not nearly enough to disturb you.

  As much as he wanted to comfort him, for once, Wayne didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what to say and he had an inkling that anything that came out of his mouth wouldn’t be heard by Eddie. He was lost in the dark crevices of his own mind. 

  The most he could do was offer to give him some alone time, he was sure his boy wasn’t keen on others sticking around right now, even him. 

  “I’ll take Penny home, me and Maude’ll watch her.” 

  Eddie shook his head, a look of panic flashing over his face, “No, that’s alright. She can stay with me.”

  Wayne was reluctant, mouth set in a frown. Penny was a good girl, usually, but he didn’t know if Eddie could really handle her along with processing everything going on around him.

  “Really, we wouldn’t mind─”

  “I need her.” 

  That shut Wayne right up, he and Eddie shuffled to exchange Penny from his arms to her dad’s without waking her. She stirred momentarily then shoved her face into Eddie’s neck, her little body falling slack once more.

  Wayne gave his shoulder a good squeeze, ran his hand gently over Penny’s back before he leaned down—and in a rare show of affection—pressed a brief kiss to your forehead.

  As he was walking out of the room, Eddie felt the panic crawling down his throat again. He croaked out a broken, “Wayne─”

  Wayne paused in the doorway, turning to acknowledge Eddie but his nephew didn’t continue, just looked scared. For a moment, Wayne was caught off guard, sucking in a breath as his boy looked young for the first time in a couple of years. 

  Now, he knew you and Eddie were young. He’d been aware of it when you got together, aware of it when you told him you were pregnant with Penny but sometime after that, he stopped seeing your age, stopped seeing Eddie’s as the two of you grew up for her. Now, right then, he remembered with startling clarity that Eddie wasn’t even twenty-five. He looked so young because he was.

  Eddie didn’t have to say anything else because Wayne knew exactly what he wanted him to say.

  Wayne nodded slowly, mouth pressing into a firm line of determination, “Everything’s gonna be alright, kid.”

  Eddie choked up, held Penny a little tighter and Wayne went on his way.

  He found himself settling back into the seat he’d dragged near your bed, cradling Penny as she remained blissfully unaware and drooling on his scrub top.

  Wayne wasn’t wrong, she’d probably be a little too much for him but she was his kid, it wasn't like he could just hand her off to people when life came at him like this and he really did need her right now. Again.

  You were here and whole, but somewhere else in this hospital, a member of his little family was still slipping through his fingers. He couldn’t let the other one out of his sight, couldn’t lose her, too.

  Once more, Eddie remained restless as the hours passed. He sat in mostly silence. He’d turned on the tv near your bed, the volume high enough to drown out the sounds of the hospital outside of the room but much too low to wake you. Rain trilled against the windows, much more gentle than it had been earlier. The storm had also passed, and if there was even an ounce of humor in him, he would have been amused with how this storm seemed to fester like a black cloud looming over him. 

  It’d been a normal day up until he’d gone to Lucas’ birthday party, but he’d been skeptical about leaving you, worried something would happen. The metaphorical little black cloud formed over him, as a result, and so did the actual black clouds, quickly calling for wind and rain at high speeds. 

  And when Eddie had found out you were okay, you were alive, his black cloud disappeared, though it left behind damage and a cold atmosphere. The real storm had also run its course, leaving behind weather that reflected exactly how Eddie felt.

  Penny squirmed in his grasp, and he realized he’d tensed up so he quickly relaxed, shifting her into a more comfortable position in his hold. 

  “Why don’t you give her to me?”

  Eddie’s head snapped over to you, surprised to find you awake, somewhat lucid and watching him with a small smile on your face.

  “Because you just had your insides removed and put back in,” He smirked, another wave of relief washing over him. You’d woken up, you really were okay. You weren’t going to leave him.

  You rolled your eyes, making a vague hand gesture to brush the subject off, clearly the surgeons hadn’t removed your sass.

  “She’s tiny and there’s more than enough room on here for both of us.” You hissed as you slowly shimmied your way to the side of the bed and Eddie frowned.

  “Okay, how about you don’t move so we can limit the amount of heart attacks you give me today, yeah?” You knew Eddie must have been worried so you didn’t take the lack of humor behind his words and the tension on his face personally. 

  A quick glance at the clock confirmed your suspicions, “It’s three in the morning, Eddie. New day, but I’ll keep my antics to a minimum.”

  Insistently, you patted the spot next to you, perfectly Penny sized and high enough to guarantee she wouldn’t accidentally move against your incision.

  With a sigh, Eddie complied, gathering his daughter up. Tensing up disturbed her but full on moving her didn’t, most likely used to being carried into your home after she’d fallen asleep in her car seat or on the couch.

  She didn’t stir when he laid her down, either. You both had to rearrange her limbs into a more comfortable position, one that didn’t make it look like she was possessed. Once Eddie tucked her in, he let out another sigh and cast you an apologetic look, big brown eyes wide, glassy and full of sorrow.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.” It was the last thing you deserved after what you’d gone through.

  The sincerity in his voice almost hurt you, it was heavy, as though it carried more weight than just a simple apology for his tone. 

  You held out your hand and Eddie immediately slipped his over it, locking his fingers with yours, squeezing as his breath hitched. 

  Your hand was so warm and soft. At one point in the last twenty-four hours, he’d thought he’d never get to feel it again, never get to hold your hand or see your pretty face. Never get to say…

  “I love you,” he blurted out, the panic he’d felt earlier when he couldn’t remember the last time he’d said those three words to you climbed right out of his belly, trying to claw its way out of his chest. Eddie took in a shuddering breath, head shaking as a hot tear escaped its confinement, trailing down his cheek. He moved to the other side of the hospital bed, so he wouldn’t crush Penny, and took your face in his hands, pressing a passionate kiss to your lips, hoping he was able to convey just how much he loved you.

  He needed you to know.

  “Eddie,” you mumbled as he pulled away, only to hide himself in the crook of your neck again. You could feel his tears against your skin and it alarmed you. “I love you, too, baby. What’s wrong?”

  “I thought I was going to lose you,” he confessed and you felt your heart seize up, “I thought I was gonna lose you twice in the same damn day. I was so fucking scared, sweetheart.” 

  When he’d been driving to the hospital, there had been a moment when he wondered if you’d still be breathing when he got there. It made him want to throw up so he quickly squashed it and forced it to the back of his head. It hadn’t been ideal when he’d entered the operation room, he didn’t like seeing you get cut open but it was comforting to see he’d overreacted. You were getting a c-section, you weren’t on your deathbed.

  Until you had been. 

  And for the second time that day, he thought you were going to die, thought he’d somehow cruelly manifested this for you and himself.

  “I’m alright, Eddie.” You freed your hand, grabbing his to cradle your cheek with. 

  “See? I’m okay. You didn’t lose me, you’re not going to.” Eddie pulls away from his hiding spot to stare down at you, the wounded puppy look still firmly in place so you add a little humor, hoping to get a smile out of him, “There’s no way I’m checking out this early, I can’t risk you moving on when you look this good.”

  Eddie’s hand was so big his fingers were tucked into your hair, his palm alone took up most of your cheek. His fingertips lightly massaged the area of your scalp available to him as the hurt on his face morphed into an earnest look, somehow more vulnerable.

  “There’s no moving on from you, you’re taking my soul, my heart, all of it with you when you go. You’re the love of my life, my everything. And that—fuck, it terrifies me because I’d still have Penny to take care of and I wouldn’t know what to do. I wouldn’t know how to pull myself out of it, if it’d even be possible and quite frankly, I don’t ever want to fucking find out.”

  Eddie was more than happy to have those types of questions remain unanswered for the rest of his life.

  “You’d be able to do it, I know you would. You would be able to take care of Penny and the baby.” You knew he would, your husband would pull himself out of his depression to make sure your children were okay because of how much he loved them, despite his grief.

  Eddie flinched, something you were quick to clock. You didn’t need to ask, he could see the question reflecting in those beautiful eyes of yours. 

  He had to break the news. You were already in a frail condition and he had to tell you the baby you’d almost died to have, your son, might still die.

  “Honey, the baby—he—fuck, he’s uh…there’s something wrong with his heart.”

  The way your face plummeted shattered something inside of him. 

  “What?”

  “He’s got a hole in his heart, the doctor said it was pretty common amongst heart defects but since he was born so early, it’d be difficult to medicate him or perform an operation. All they can do is keep him under observation, he still might not make it because of how young he is.”

  You squeezed your eyes shut, head dropping back to meet your pillow as you tried, and failed, not to cry. Why was this happening? You blamed yourself, why hadn’t you been able to keep him in your belly? Why had your own body betrayed you? Why had you failed your baby?

  “This is all my fault,” you declared, eyes and cheeks growing wet with your tears.

  “No, no, sweetheart.” Eddie was not about to let you take the blame for something out of your control or even allow you to believe any of this was your fault. “You can’t possibly believe this is on you. These things happen, it obviously isn’t ideal, but it’s just circumstance. It’s not your fault and it’s not the baby’s fault. You did everything you could and more. Okay?”

  He leaned in, finger stroking gently across your cheekbone as he caught a tear. You sniffled, nodding once as he pulled you back together.

  “What does he look like?” You asked, snuggling back into the pillow as Eddie coddled you.

  He hesitated for a moment before he answered, “I—I don’t know.”

  That elicited a small frown from you, “You haven’t seen him yet?”

  Eddie swallowed hard, gaze moving away from you, “No.”

  You waited, watching a series of emotions pass over his features. Eddie often tried to keep his internal struggles to himself, a habit you noticed once you became friends with him (ironically, through some trauma bonding) and even into your relationship. You hadn’t expected him to confide everything in you right away, though you had let him know should he ever need someone to talk to, you’d be there.

  Now, it wasn’t a matter of if he would, it was when. It didn’t take him long. 

  “I don’t know—I guess,” he pursed his lips, eyes squeezing shut as he felt the all too familiar burn of fresh tears. How many times had he cried in the last twenty-four hours? He felt ridiculous to be so emotional, then again, he’d never thought he’d find himself in this tragic situation, so he was due for a couple of breakdowns, “I know if I go down there and I—I look at him, I’m gonna fall in love with him and then what? He dies. I can’t do that, not if I’m gonna lose him forever. I can’t.”

  Eddie was leaking tears, not yet sobbing but well on his way as he made his confession. He couldn’t stomach seeing his baby boy if he was going to be taken away from him, if the two of you would have to put a tiny little coffin—a size that should never have to exist—six feet into the ground. He’d been put through the fucking ringer but Eddie couldn’t do that. It would break him.

  Eddie’s confession had you crying as well, you shared his pain. You didn’t want to lose your baby, either. You couldn’t remember what he looked like through the haze of your fatigue when you’d given birth to him, but if you tried to think hard enough, you could remember how it felt to have him in your arms in the passenger seat of Wayne’s truck. The first time you’d held him and you hoped it wouldn’t be the last. 

  Even if it was, you were grateful you’d had the chance to and you knew Eddie would never forgive himself if he didn’t get to see him, didn’t get to meet him.

  “I know you’re terrified, Eds. It scares me, too.” You grabbed his hand just as it slipped away from your face, encouraging him to look at you. “I don’t want to lose him, either. I want to take him home. I want to cuddle with him, nurse him, take tons of pictures of him with Penny and with you, but most of all, I want to make sure he knows I love him.”

  It killed you to imagine your baby in an incubator, small, helpless and with no one but the nurses, who could make the time to check on him in between all their other patients, offering him comfort. Human contact. And if he did end up passing, he could do so alone in there, not knowing how loved he was. 

  “I know you love him, Eddie, and you don’t want to lose him. But you can’t lose him if you don’t have him, baby. I hate that this is even a possibility for us, but I’d rather have held him and lost him than to never have picked him up at all. I’ll be okay with whatever you decide, but do you really want him to die without having gotten to meet his dad?”

  Eddie let out a choked sob as he shook his head. He didn’t want his baby to die at all but you were right, if he did lose his kid, he’d spend the rest of his life agonizing over the same thing Eddie had been upset with himself for when he thought he’d lose you. He’d been unable to recall the last time he told you he loved you. Only, he’d know he never told his son. 

  “I’ll be right back,” he swore and you nodded just as he leaned down to give you a kiss. He wiped away his tears, inhaled a particularly violent sniffle and you watched as he left your room to finally meet his baby.

  Eddie felt almost disorientated as he navigated his way to the NICU. He’d been there once, briefly, to check on Penny when she’d been there for a few hours, but that was a couple of years ago and he’d needed the assistance of several nurses and staff to direct him, but he finally made it.

  The entrance room, where the viewing window was located, was nearly empty. There was a woman further down, gazing through the large window.

  Eddie approached it with caution and his heart racing a mile a minute. It wasn’t too difficult to find his baby. His son was in an incubator, close to the window and labeled ‘MUNSON’. For the first time, Eddie got to take his son in. He had been right, he fell in love with him at first sight.

  He was smaller than some of the other babies, bigger than others as well and surprisingly well developed. Kind of calmed Eddie’s nerves, just a little. He had a couple of monitor pads attached to his tummy with an additional one wrapped around his tiny foot. Other than the nasal cannula, baby Munson didn’t have a whole lot of tubes attached to him like Eddie had imagined and he could see a smattering of hair on his head, somewhat light in shade but he had a feeling it would darken soon to resemble his own. 

  It was hard to tell if Wayne and Penny were right in their description of him, Eddie couldn’t tell if he was still pale since the baby was cloaked in blue light, but he assumed his son had gained some color by then. Eddie also couldn’t make out his eyes, those were covered by some sort of eye cloth, most likely for protection. He looked a little odd, obviously resembled a baby and while his features were almost indistinguishable, appearing a little generic, as his face still needed to develop a little more, Eddie could see hints of familiar features. 

  He looked like newborn Penny, well, so far. Her features had obviously changed since then, and still were, but he was promising to look almost exactly like she had when she was born. And Eddie thought Penny looked a lot like you, so it got a smile out of him, regardless of the fact his son was bound to resemble his family.

  Eddie watched the rapid rise and fall of his chest with concern. Was he supposed to be breathing that fast? Was he okay? 

  “Which one is yours?”

  Eddie turned to peer over at the woman who’d asked him the question, “Munson.”

  Eddie watched as her gaze moved over all the incubators until they found the correct one.

  “Oh, he’s a cute one. And his breathing looks incredible.”

  “Really? It’s not too fast?” He asked, the worry in his voice obvious.

  “Considering it’s his first time pumping those lungs, I don’t think so, no. Looks like he’s breathing real good to me. Mine needs a little help.” She pointed through the glass to an incubator that housed a baby with a tube in its mouth as well as individual ones in each nostril unlike his son’s nasal cannula. Eddie felt horrible.

  “I’m sorry,” he tried to apologize but she waved him off, a smile still on her face. 

  “Don’t be, that’s all mine is here for. As soon as she figures out how to keep doing it on her own, she’ll be back with me and my wife.”

  Right on, Eddie thought. Before he could continue their conversation, a nurse knocked on the window.

  She gestured down to the baby, “Is he yours?”

  Wow, this glass must have been thin, he could hear her pretty good.

  For some reason, Eddie still assumed she couldn’t hear him and only nodded. She disappeared for a minute and emerged into the room through a large pair of doors. 

  “Would you like to hold him?”

  Eddie glanced at the other occupant and she gave him a nod of encouragement. 

  “Yeah,” he rasped out, turning to look at his son through the window once more, “Yeah, I would.”

  Eddie was nervous the entire time as she prepped him with instructions. While they were concerned about the hole in his son’s heart, he was well developed, had strong vitals, good reactions, even for thirty weeks. He was so good that had it not been for his heart, he probably would have been sent home at the same time as you, given your longer than average stay due to your c-section and preeclampsia.

  And when she placed him in his arms, the love he had for his son almost overwhelmed him. He couldn’t believe he almost denied himself this. 

  “Can I touch him?” He asked, after he’d stopped marveling at the small face—eyes still hidden—in his arms. 

  “Mhm, we’d encourage it. Babies, even born preterm, are still very much so human. He craves the contact, it might even encourage him.” 

  Eddie didn’t hesitate, fingers gently stroking over the soft fluff of hair on his son’s head. This close, he could see it all pushed towards the middle of his head, like a mohawk. His baby was already metal straight out of your womb, it made him chuckle. 

  The nurse stepped away to tend to another baby, giving him a little privacy. Eddie maneuvered his son so he was resting on his chest, little head pressed against the spot just over his heart.

  “Hi,” he whispered down to the baby in his arms, “I’m your dad.”

  Much to Eddie’s awe, the baby nuzzled his head against his chest, making him still. He didn’t know why, but he’d believed his son wouldn’t be able to move for some reason. It was nice to know he was wrong.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you, too,” he laughed, the sound soft, “I’ve been looking forward to it, you must have, too. You sure know how to make an entrance, huh? Couldn’t wait in your mom any longer?”

  Eddie ducked down to kiss his little head, lips remaining there as he moved to sit in one of the few chairs of the NICU. 

  “It’s okay, though. I’ve got you, daddy’s got you.” Even if the outcome wasn’t okay, right at that moment with his son in his arms, everything felt like it would be. And if his son needed encouragement, Eddie would give it to him. 

  “I’m sorry it took me so long to come find you, your mom had to talk some sense into me. She loves you a lot, you know? Probably jealous I’m down here and she isn’t, but only because she physically can’t just yet.”

  Eddie’s hand went to support the back of his head as he moved the baby down to hold in his hands, staring down at his little face. 

  “I’ll bring her down to see you again as soon as I can, though. So you gotta keep fighting, okay? I know things are hard for you right now, not as easy as the other babies in the hospital, but I know you can do it. I love you so much, your mom and I just want to take you home, so you gotta beat this, okay?”

  Eddie rocked his baby, gentle swaying motions as he pressed kiss after kiss to his head. 

  “I see you’ve made it down for a visit,”

  Eddie glanced up at the face of Dr. Houseman, she didn’t look as intimidating as she had when she’d first approached him in the waiting room.

  “Sorry to disturb you, but I’m very glad I caught you. I heard your wife is doing well.”

  “She is,” he confirmed, with a relieved grin. 

  “Good, I’m glad. Have you been given an update on your little guy?”

  Eddie recounted what the nurse had told him and Dr. Houseman looked pleased.

  “Well, I have more news for you. He’s proving to be much stronger than we’d initially anticipated, and while his vitals were already good on intake, they’ve improved tremendously in the last few hours and so have his responses. I think he’s figuring out what he’s capable of doing; how to breathe, how to move, how to eat—we introduced him to a rubber nipple to check his latch response and it’s good, not quite there yet, we’ll have to get creative with his feedings but I think he’ll be able to latch onto his mom soon.”

  She must have caught the way Eddie perked up at her use of the word soon. That meant his baby had a fighting chance.

  “These first few hours after a birth such as his and with his condition are crucial. While he’s still significantly weaker than an average full term newborn, your baby seems to be a fighter.  Should he survive this next night, I believe he’ll make it. He’d just need some time in here while the hole closes up, but it just might not be too much for him.”

  She left him with that news and a parting smile.

  Eddie held his son for a few more minutes before a nurse returned to put him back in his incubator. He hadn’t wanted to leave him, but he’d promised him he’d be back.

  When Eddie got back to the room, his heart was a little lighter and he was able to smile when he saw you giving Penny, who was now wide awake, kisses. He pressed his back up against the door and watched for a few moments as you leaned in and gave her a loud kiss. She’d go into a fit of giggles before demanding another with an again!

  “Daddy!” Penny beamed the moment she saw him and Eddie grinned as he made his way over, lifting her into his arms when she held hers up to him.

  “Hi, pretty one. You sleep good?” 

  “Uh-huh,” it was clear she was distracted and didn’t care about his questions, no, she had some of her own. “You see my baby?”

  Eddie raised an eyebrow, trading an amused look with you.

  “Oh, he’s your baby now?”

  “Ya, he’s—he’s my baby.” She nodded with a grin as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he leaned down to press his forehead to hers.

  “Well, then yes. I saw your baby,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to her nose.

  “Wha’helooklike?” Penny blurted out, eyes wide as she waited for his reply. 

  “He looked a lot like you.” 

  “Nooooooo,” Penny laughed, shaking her head against her dad’s, “He is my potatoes, not anoda Penny.”

  “It’s true!” Eddie laughed with her as he put her back down by your side and leaned in to give you yet another—he’d never stop giving them to you—kiss.

  “He looks like her?” You asked, after you’d returned his kiss.

  “Mhm,” Eddie fell back into the seat he’d occupied hours earlier. “Looks like she did when she was a newborn. He’s not pale—like a potato,” he directed that part to Penny who just laughed into her little hands, “anymore, at least. I don’t know whose eyes he has, they were covered.”

  Eddie was right about you being jealous, you were practically green with it. 

  “I wish I could see him,” you stated sadly, frown on your lips. You knew, realistically, if he started to decline, they’d most likely let you out of bed to see him or bring him up to you, but still. You’d rather it not come to that.

  “Ran into his doctor while I was there, she said he’s got a better chance.”

  Your eyes lit up, “Really?”

  “I was just about ready to kiss her.” He nodded and you made a face, nose doing that adorable scrunch he loved so much.

  “Okay, well, don’t do that.”

  Eddie snickered, “It was a figure of speech, baby.”

  “I know, I’m just saying it on her behalf,”

  “On her behalf?” Eddie pouted, eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

  “Yeah, I want to kiss her, too, but—uhm, Eds, you might need some sleep ‘cause—you’re hot, you really are, but you also look insane right now.”

  Eddie got up to make his way to the bathroom so he could see himself in the mirror, nearly jumping once he’d turned on the lights.

  His eyes were beyond bloodshot, his eye bags were dark and very apparent, his skin had an interesting almost gray like tinge to it and his hair was a wreck. Eddie looked like he belonged in a psych ward.

  “Jesus,” he shouted loud enough to be heard by you.

  “It’s okay, Eds. You’re still beautiful to me!”

  Eddie did end up sleeping. Turns out the chair he’d been sitting on was also a pull out bed. You insisted that he get some rest, and while he did, you changed Penny’s diaper and got some hospital room service for the two of you, you’d even picked something out on the menu for Eddie to eat once he woke up. 

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 41: Miles to Go Before I Sleep. Katsu and Yukimura set off to look for Toshiie, and try to convince themselves they’ve done the right thing. Also... Katsu gives Yukimura advice on women.

Shingen x OC; Kenshin x MC (Mai)

Previous Chapter: Here

Logline - Disguised as a boy, Katsuko finds herself working for Shingen, but her dangerous masquerade becomes difficult to sustain when she falls for the man with a fatal secret.

“What the hell did you guys just do?”

Maybe it was my imagination, but Mai’s question felt like it echoed in the quiet temple. What the hell did we just do? Saved his life, saved his life, saved his life. Was that the answer? Or a mantra? Please, let them be able to save his life. What if all we had done was send him to a new world where he would die alone?

“It was necessary. Sasuke will take him to a healer in your time, and they will cure him.” Kenshin spoke firmly, as if no modern doctor would dare fail in that task, or Kenshin would hop into the next wormhole and stab them in retaliation.

“Cure… of what?” Mai turned to me. She’d not only been kept out of our plans – she hadn’t even known they were necessary.

“I don’t know. He was dying. He told me he didn’t believe he would s-s-survive…” I took a deep breath. “Survive past this winter.” Honestly, I couldn’t talk, or even think about it any longer, so I gave Mai an apologetic smile, made an excuse about wanting to check on my horse, and went outside. Kenshin or Yuki could explain it to her.

Once outside, I ignored the muzzling rain and buried my face in Moonlight’s neck. Up until that last moment, I had hoped that one or all of us would call it off, or that Shingen would change his mind and volunteer to go to the future. But the look of shocked betrayal on his face, and Mai’s horrified What the hell did you guys just do, was playing like a skipping record in my mind. I had no way of turning it off. It would likely loop all the way to Ikuno.

“Katsu?” I lifted my head to see Yuki standing there, looking about as uncomfortable as I had ever seen him. “Aw geez, you aren’t crying, are you?”

Was I? I brushed my hand across my face. “It’s the rain.” Who was he to sound so horrified over a few tears when his own eyes were wet? “What?”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Nothing. I wanted to make sure you hadn’t up and left for Ikuno.”

Oh. Actually, I’d probably been about ten minutes away from reaching the conclusion that I could just leave. I gave him as much of a smile as I could manage. “Well, to quote Sasuke, there was a nonzero chance of that happening, but I won’t leave without saying goodbye.”

He scrubbed his hands through his hair so that it stood on end. “Kenshin and Mai will be out in a moment. We can say goodbye to them then.”

“Alrigh- what?” We? Them? Did I hear that right?

“He’s going to be mad enough at me enough already. There’s no way I will let Shingen’s woman travel alone to Ikuno.” It was said in a casual tone of voice, but the set of his shoulders told me I shouldn’t argue.

Even so, I put up a token protest. “I can take care of myself.” I could. However, to be honest, I felt torn between wanting to stew in private misery and wanting company to keep me from doing just that.

“I know. You don’t have to. Besides -.” He looked over his shoulder to where Mai and Kenshin were emerging from the temple, looking like they were a single unit unto themselves. “The last thing I want is to be the odd man out on their trip home.”

Hm, ok, yeah. Yukimura trapped for four days with Kenshin and Mai without the mitigating presence of Sasuke was a stabbing incident in the making.         

Mai hurried over to me and I braced myself for a lecture. “I’m not sure I agree with what you did.”

Fair point, given I wasn’t convinced it had been right either.

“But I can’t say that I wouldn’t have done the same thing, if I were in your shoes, so I understand.” She hugged me, and I imagined that she was also offering a shoulder to cry on, if I wanted.

I didn’t want that though. If I allowed myself to cry, to really cry, I might not be able to stop. So, I stepped out of her embrace and simply thanked her.

Kenshin convinced us (translation, at sword point) to get a few hours of sleep before setting off, pointing out that we’d be safer travelling in daylight. Yukimura and I reluctantly agreed. After a few hours of fitful sleep at a posting inn on the outskirts of Kyoto, and one last morning ‘kill,’ I was more than ready to get on the road.

As shattered as I still felt at saying goodbye to Shingen in such a manner, there was, behind that sadness, anticipation of the reunion with my brother. For the first three quarters of my life, he had been my other half, the person who could always be counted on to balance me out, the one person I didn’t need to tell anything to, because he’d been there through all of it. Now that we’d missed six and a half years of each other’s lives, would we still have that connection?

“Safe journeys, Katsuko,” Kenshin said. “I hope you find your brother in good health. He is as welcome in Kasugayama as you are.”

Well. That was an interesting idea. I imagined that Toshiie would be in sheer bliss, surrounded by all that beefcake in the castle. “Thank you. But you can’t kill him. Toshiie is a healer, not a fighter.” At least the Toshiie of my memory had been. But I wasn’t the same person I had been seven years ago – I wasn’t even the same person I had been that day seven weeks ago, when I shot the sniper out of the tree. Therefore, I shouldn’t freeze my brother in time either.

Kenshin scowled. “He must train to fight. It is a necessary skill.” He looked ready rhapsodize on the issue, but Yuki stepped in and reminded him that we needed to get going if we were going to reach Ikuno in another three days.

Without any additional fanfare, Yuki and I set off. Behind us, I heard Mai suggesting that since they were so close to Azuchi, they should drop in on Nobunaga so she could say hello to her friends. We encouraged our horses into a trot, neither of us wanting to be anywhere near Azuchi if Mai succeeded in convincing him that was a good idea.

Yukimura proved to be a good traveling companion. Though I at first had resented the thought of company, Yuki was the type to stay quiet unless he had something worth saying. He would occasionally point out something or someone interesting along the route and he had a knack for befriending other travelers to the point where they would tell him their entire life history. It was a useful talent to have – I imagined that Aki would have enjoyed having him as one of his scouts.

“What’s so funny?” Yuki asked me, on the third evening of our journey, when we had stopped to camp for the night.

I handed him a bowl of rice, then found a log near the fire to sit on while I waited for the tea water to boil.

“I was just thinking that my previous employer would have appreciated your um, people skills.” Then, because he looked a little confused at that, I added. “Basically, I was admiring your ability to talk to anyone, no matter what their station in life.”

“Any man,” Yuki corrected, with his mouth full. Ok, yeah, his table manners might be a little rough (and Aki... would likely have called him feral). “I can’t talk to women, remember?”

Would it be worth pointing out the obvious? Reminding Yuki of my gender when I was dressed as Katsu might actually prove his point, so I approached the issue from another angle. “So, when you talk to a woman, pretend you’re talking to man.”

Once again, he roughed up his hair with his hands. I could always tell where Yuki’s emotions stood, just by looking at the top of his head. “Yeah, yeah sure. If I wanted to have a conversation. I’m terrible at flirting – and I hate it anyway, so why bother?”

“Conversation is really important Yuki.” The tea water was finally boiling, so I got up to prepare a couple cups. “If you prefer to just talk, I guarantee lots of women would be happy with that.”

That comment was rewarded with a patented Yukimura Eyeroll (TM). “Yeah. Right. Hard to take your word for that. You’re with one of the biggest flirts in the country.”

Was this some kind of Sengoku era Godwin’s Law where all conversation inevitably returned to Shingen? “Well, that’s a bug, not a feature.”

 “Katsu, please don’t think you have to take Sasuke’s place by making weird comments… Thanks,” he added when I handed him a cup of tea.

“Aw. So I shouldn’t call you bestie?” I plopped back down opposite him.

 “Please don’t.” He sipped at the tea, and when he didn’t wince, I figured I had remembered how he liked it. “What did you mean about the bugs?”

I thought back. “Oh. The flirting thing. I fell for Shingen because of how he treated me when he thought I was boy.” His kindness… the way he took me seriously… the way he helped me after I had killed the sniper… the way we could just… talk.

“Huh.” I could tell that Yuki didn’t believe me, but I didn’t plan to go into any more detail, so that was that. “And, not that I was around for any of it,” a fact that I was really grateful for, “but I cannot imagine that Kenshin flirted with Mai.”

“No. He threw her in the dungeon.” He rolled his eyes again (a sentiment I agreed with one hundred percent).

Ugh. Right. She’d mentioned that. “See. No flirting. Although I wouldn’t recommend imprisonment as an effective romantic tool. Everyone is different.”

Yuki kicked his feet in the dirt in front of him. “Where do the bugs come into it?”

I sighed. “Well, probably you’re going to need to find the girl who understands that when you put a bug down the back of her kimono, you’re actually telling her that you think she’s cute.”

He threw a twig at me. “I wouldn’t do anything like that.”

“If you say so.” Anyway, I imagined that if Yuki ever found a woman he wanted to pursue, he would figure it out, or… er….. huh. “When you meet the girl of your dreams, come and ask me, or Mai for help, ok?” Between the two of us, we’d make sure he didn’t torpedo the relationship before it set sail.

“Yeah. Alright.” Sounded like he didn’t think such a girl existed anyway.

“We’ll sort you out.” Or. Mai would, if I wasn’t around any longer.

He was quiet a long time, and we sat there listening to the cicadas buzzing and the wind rattling the trees. “First or second watch?” he eventually asked.

“Second, unless you are really tired.” On our first night after leaving Kasugayama, Yuki had had the watch immediately after mine, and I nearly had to dump a bucket of water over his head to wake him up.

What the hell did you guys just do?

What the hell did you guys just do?

Kaya, it was too late – you just cursed him to die alone… as will you. You’re a tool that has outlived its usefulness. No use yelling. This time there’s no one around to hear you.

My hands pounded on the side of the crate, fingers scrabbling at the splintering wood. Without seeing it, I knew the sides of my coffin would be smeared with blood.

I kicked and pounded at the sides of the crate, yelling for someone to hear me.

“Katsu! Katsu! Wake up, damn it!”

Clearing the border between sleep and awake in seconds, I sat up. “What? Are we under attack?” I reached to grab my dagger from where it was sitting next to my bedroll and discovered a fistful of twigs and leaves was already in my hand.

 “No. Shit. You were making so much noise I thought you were the one being attacked.” His face shadowed by lantern light, Yuki rocked back on his heels and raked his hand through his hair. It was at critical mass. I must have scared the crap out of him.

 “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I have bad dreams sometimes.”

Yuki awkwardly patted my shoulder. “Unless you, um, need a hug.” His tone of voice pleaded for me to not need a hug.

 “I’m ok. Thanks. It’s probably time to switch out anyway.” I scrubbed the sand out of my eyes.

 “Yeah.” He looked away while I got out of the bedroll, a polite, but unnecessary gesture, as I was fully dressed.

“Yuki?” Maybe it wasn’t worth asking his opinion, but the dream had left me rattled. Iekane always left me rattled, even if the dream Iekane was only a product of my subconscious. “Did we do the right thing?”

Again, the hands went through the hair. He was likely to be bald by the time we got to Ikuno if he kept that up. “Shit. Yes. We had a good reason. That counts, right?”

Yeah, but that thought wasn’t keeping the nightmares away.

But he wasn’t finished speaking. “We did it. There’s no use thinking about it now.” He sighed. “As long as we’re both awake, why don’t we just get an early start?”

Maybe I should have objected – he hadn’t had a chance to sleep… but I wanted to see my brother, so without another word, I nodded and packed up my stuff.

Thanks to decent weather and no sudden obstacles, we made it to Ikuno late that afternoon. Ikuno was a small mining town – small enough that I only needed to ask one person where to find the Healer, in order to be pointed to a small house on the outskirts of town.

In my head, I was chanting, please be the right person, please be the right person as we approached. A woman was gardening out front. When she saw us, she dropped her spade and put her hand to her chest. She jumped to her feet and rushed inside.

This can’t be good. Moments later, a man rushed out of the house, musket in hand. He stared into the road, and raised the gun, pointing it right at us.

@bestbryn

[astrobei]

🎶✨when u get this, list 5 songs u like to listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (positivity is cool)🎶✨

omg hi parker !! i listen to so many songs of so many genres so i’ll just do a few that have been on repeat lately :^) my new year’s resolution is to be less awful at answering asks so i’m starting strong w this one LOL

i’ve been listening to this on loop ever since the midnight countdown bc 1. i’m writing a mini fic that has to do w this. kind of. u will See. and also because this song is just pure serotonin in soundwave form to me and i could listen to it for hours without getting bored !! a classic for good reason if i had to make a playlist of songs to exclusively listen to forever then this would be on it

also have been listening to this a lot the past few days (+ throughout 2022) and i’m currently playing out a byler edit in my head that i’ll never make but. whatever. idk! i don’t listen to this album or harry styles as an artist very much but i love this song in an actually indescribable way there’s just something about it that clicks in my head !! maybe the beat maybe the lyrics maybe the melody maybe the Everything of it all. just a song i can put on loop for hours and never get tired of!!

this is a song that makes me want to like. drive through the city at nighttime w my roof down and my best friend in the passenger seat. literally love the strokes so so much and the guitar and the drums in this one are just chefs kiss to me! i’m a sucker for a good guitar + drums pairing. reveling in my male manipulator moment whenever the strokes come on (+ the way he says “moscow 1972” just tickles my brain so good)

GOD. i have so many feelings about billie marten and idk how to articulate them all but this song is literally like extra strength advil in auditory form. it’s so soothing and the acoustic guitar in this makes me wish i could sing so bad !! i listen to this + the whole album when i’m feeling tired or exhausted or stressed and i swear it flushes any pain right out of my body. would recommend to anyone no matter what genres you’re into !!

ok listen. the lyricism in this song. every single line is like a punch straight to the gut oh my god. god rest my soul! i miss who i used to be! the tomb won’t close! stained glass windows in my mind! i regret you all the time! I CANT LET THIS GO I FIGHT WITH YOU IN MY SLEEP THE WOUND WONT CLOSE I KEEP ON— [gunshots] anyways. yeah. favorite song off of midnights so psychoanalyze me as u please but this is going to stay on repeat through 2023 for Sure

[marilostfieldblog]

[Video transcript begin.]

[The transcript begins with someone holding their phone, they are seemingly sitting on a bench. They take a deep sigh as loud music identified as "All I want for Christmas is you" is heard over a speaker.]

?: I am going to kill someone I swear.

[Voice identified: Mari.]

M: Will this music ever SHUT UP!

[Metallic clanks are heard just barely over the music, as well as laughter, it sounds non-human.]

M: Ugh… Has it really been three hours? Listen you and I both know you won't ki-

[The source of the noise moves into frame, shrouded in shadow. Their eyes shine like a wild animals would in the low light.]

?: Are you sure you know me well enough to make assumptions like that?

[Voice identified: Cassius.]

M: You are the one who told me you wouldn't kill me cuz I was taking care of a kid, and when I gave you the chance you said no.

C: THAT WAS BEFORE THIS FUCKING SONG GOT STUCK PLAYING ON LOOP OVER THE DAMN SPEAKERS. GET OVER HERE.

[He lunges towards the bench.]

M: Nope!

[Mari hops off the bench as Cassius flies into it, the song still playing as they begin running.]

[Cassius shouts in frustration, before giving chase, his footsteps heavy on the tile floor of the mall.]

M: Gonna have to catch me jackass!

C: You motherfucker! Get back here so I can gut you!

M: I have a kid to get out of this mall so not happening you bitch!

[Mari takes a sharp left turn, throwing a trash can at Cassius as they do.]

C: If you let me kill you, you won’t have to hear this infernal music anymore!

M: My point remains!

[The footsteps behind Mari turn to a sort of… scuttling, as Cassius switches to using the spider legs. Before switching back.]

M: If you want to kill me you have to get sparrow out!

C: I don’t have to do shit!

M: Then I ain't letting you catch me!

[Another corner is turned, a loud yell, then a crash can be heard behind Mari. Almost as if several cardboard boxes had fallen down.]

C: FUCKING HELL–

[Mari laughs, their laugh seemingly being one of joy and malice.]

M: GET FUCKED!

C: That tends to happen, yeah!

M: I doubt you get that much play.

C: You’d be surprised, Mari! Not like you’d know what works out there, you’ve only had like, one girlfriend! Where even is she?

[Mari points at someone barely out of frame.]

M: Right there apparently.

[Mari turns the phone, in view is someone with black hair wearing a showfall mask. They run off after about 5 seconds.]

M: Nevermind. Anyway you don't even HAVE a girlfriend.

C: Never wanted one! I don’t do that shit, jackass!

M: That why you fucked one of your bosses?

C: THERE’S A DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A ONE NIGHT THING AND A LONG TERM RELATIONSHIP.

M: FAIR ENOUGH! BUT YOU CAN'T TALK ABOUT ME NOT KNOWING WHAT WORKS. I HAVEN'T HAD THE CHANCE I TURNED 18 INSIDE THIS HELLHOLE!

C: HOW THE FUCK DID WE GET ON THIS TOPIC!?

M: BECAUSE YOU TOOK 'Get fucked' A BIT TOO LITERAL!

[A short pause.]

C: STOP RUNNING SO I CAN MURDER YOU.

M: NO YOU FUCKER! No pun intended.

[Mari laughs as they continue running.]

[This continues for another few minutes, before the music in the background suddenly comes to a halt.]

M: What.

[Mari stops, the phone jolting as they do.]

C: Huh.

M: Did. The music just. Stop?

C: Guess they fixed it.

M: So uh… What now?

C: I don’t know. My main motivation is gone. So I guess I just… head back to the offices.

M: What the fuck.

C: What, do you want me to keep trying to murder you?

M: You wouldn't kill me anyway. You already proved that.

C: If you weren’t as fast as you are, I would’ve.

M: Bullshit. A. You've been given multiple opportunities. B. The deal with will.

[Cassius takes a few steps towards Mari.]

C: Please don’t mention the deal, not out in the open.

M: Fine. Whateve-

[Mari yawns, quite loudly.]

C: Jesus Christ. Do you not sleep at all? Why are you so fuckin’ tired?

M: Did you HEAR the music?

C: Of course I heard the fucking music! I’m talking about in general, asshole!

M: NO! I've been taking care of the kid, and if you were experimented on trapped in a dark room for god knows how long and your mom was a wire monster. YOU WOULD HAVE NIGHTMARES TOO.

C: … Get them a journal.

M: What?

C: You heard me. Get them a journal.

M: Wha- Why?

C: Are you dense? For the damn nightmares. Writing down things like that helps sometimes.

M: Oh… Um… Where am I gonna find one… Here?

C: … I’ll grab you one tomorrow. Just. Go back to your stupid area. I’m leaving.

M: Uh… Sure. Cool… Just uh… Ask Will for our location.

[Cassius nods, then, a few seconds later, his eyes widen slightly, realizing what he’s just done.]

C: [Whispered.] Fuck.

M: Hold on. If you ever… And I mean EVER. need help, big or small… Y'know where to find me Cass.

[Mari puts their head down, seemingly whispering.]

M: [Whispered.] Sparrow wants you and Ophelia to be ok… for will.

[Cassius stares at Mari, his expression hardens, yet his eyes are full of fear.]

C: I don’t need your fuckin’ help, Editor. And don’t call me ‘Cass’. We aren’t friends.

M: Ha… Haha… Hahahahaha…

[Mari breaks into a fit of laughter, this time the tone is more somber and caring.]

[He takes a few steps back, before turning around fully and walking away, his steps quicken as he gets farther away. He vanishes around a corner a few seconds later.]

M: Can't lie to me… God damnit why do I…

[Mari falls to the ground, seemingly confused.]

M: Why do I care… That idiot is nothing but an asshole to me but… Ugh. If he doesn't want…

[Mari stops, they continue laughing for 30 seconds before yawning again.]

M: If you see this, Will cares about you… And strike system or not I think you do too… So until you take things one step too far… I'm gonna try and help you. Because William is my friend too you dick.

[Mari yawns again, before passing out in a dark corner. The phone stays on for roughly 30 minutes before shutting off.]

[End transcript.]