#when i’m done with a whole repeat of the chart i’ll just move it up; mark a chart repeat and continue

[fingertipsmp3]

This may not be a surprise to anyone else, but I personally have just realised that I am stupid

[omgreally]

I’ve been reading mandos intergalactic taxi service and UGH✨💕 the pining and fluff with the intimacy smut is just chefs kiss your writing style is amazing🤌🏽✨ I’ve been in such a Din mood lately, could your write like a confession drabble where the reader and din are pining for each other and din is dropping hints but the reader is like really not a hint taker lol pretty please with a cherry on top 😭💕 smut or fluff your choice I know you’d write it so well!!

BLESS YOUR HEART @liltangerineart and thank you! Next chapter of Taxi Service should be up tomorrow I hope!

In the meantime I hope you like this? Not a confession as such and more, uh, top!Mando than I intended, but he is bad at dropping hints. I like to think he would be very...straightforward 😎

Din Djarin/F!Reader - E - 1624 words - Oblivious!Reader, Infatuated!Din, frustrated yearning, angst and, of course, smut.

It's getting ridiculous.

He is a Mandalorian, one of the most fabled, the most feared warriors in the galaxy. Rumour and danger follow him as he charts a path through the galaxy that blazes bright, leaving behind myth and legend - people whispering things like 'I heard he killed a whole troop with his hands tied' and 'I heard he was eight feet tall, made of steel'.

He is a Mandalorian, who has never had to rely on anybody but himself - and yet here he is, sweating beneath his cowl whenever you brush too close, trying too hard to inhale the scent of you through his helmet's filters, memorizing the sound of your laugh.

It's like he's a foundling again - uncertain, insecure, nervous. And they’re not butterflies in the pit of his stomach - they’re bullets from an ancient slugthrower weapon, and he can taste metal at the back of his tongue whenever he tries to talk to you.

“Do you have someone, back home?” A clumsy overture, as obvious as it is stupid; Din winces beneath the helm but you don’t seem to notice - you just shake your head and shrug.

“No. Just me. I wouldn’t have left otherwise.” Loyal, he thinks, and the bullets in his stomach sting just that little bit harder.

He tries asking you more about yourself. How you became a bounty hunter. How many weapons you’ve handled. The different kinds of ships you’ve flown. Places you’ve been. But you never give up anything truly personal about yourself - you’re a cypher.

Maybe that’s why the Mandalorian finds himself strangely drawn to you.

He doesn’t know how to navigate this - not really. He has no experience with this kind of thing. It’s always been about the next quarry, the next job, and then it was about the kid, and now…

And now he’s stuck.

He wants to hit something, break something, feel the impact of his fists against flesh and bone. He settles for balling them up whenever you’re around, biting his tongue, and waiting til later to jerk himself off in pathetic, clench-jawed silence in the refresher.

“You slept late,” you point out the next morning as he emerges, stiff in more than one way, from his bunk.

“Couldn’t sleep last night,” he says, and he’s so tired, so frustrated that he adds, gruffly: “Bed was too empty.”

“Probably need more pillows,” you muse as you wander off to the kitchenette. “Cup of caf?”

“Extra strong,” he grunts as he leans a shoulder to the wall, and you’re oblivious to his glower.

“Coming right up.” A minute later, you press a mug into his hand. “I’ll leave you to it. No need to go hide, I’ll go find a bulkhead to look at while you take your helmet off.”

You grin at him, and he stares at you. You’re just about to turn away when he reaches up, and you go still, your smile slackening in shock as he thumbs the release latch under his chin.

The helm’s pneumatic seal hisses as it lifts, just enough so he can get the rim of his mug up and to his lips. He takes a long, slow pull, and while his vision is eclipsed by the rim of the helmet at the moment, he knows you haven’t left.

As he expects, you’re still there - staring at him as he lowers his helm back into place. Your mouth is even slightly open - lips parted - and he watches the dart of your tongue as you wet them before swallowing hard.

“I’m just...I’m just gonna,” you say, abortingly, and start to back away. You jump as your shoulder hits the hatchway. Din watches as you turn, hesitate, then hurry away, your shoulders squared defensively as if you can feel the force of his gaze on your back.

Alone, the taste of caf hot and bitter on his tongue, Din Djarin grins.

After that, he starts to notice. He starts to notice how tense you are when he’s close.

At first he’s not sure - but then, once, he deliberately brushes your waist as he moves past you in the cockpit to take the pilot’s seat, and you’re still standing there, frozen, when he glances back at you. You brush it off, but it happens again when you bump into him coming out of the fresher. When he reaches over your head in the kitchenette to fetch a ration bar from a compartment. When you lean over his shoulder to point out the coordinates to a refueling station. When he catches you yawning, falling asleep in the passenger’s seat.

“I’m going to hit my bunk,” you say, rising to your feet, your arms stretched above your head. Din turns slowly, and he catches the glimpse of a sliver of flesh as your shirt rides up. The words escape him before he’s even conscious of their existence.

“Want some company?”

Dank farrik, he’s been dropping hints and touches for ages - and he knows you’re affected by his presence, he’s sure of it now. They might be closer to butterflies for you, but his bullets are bouncing around in his gut right now.

“What?” you ask, half-laughing - as if it’s all some grand joke. “You gotta stop with the innuendo, Mando. I might get the wrong idea.”

“And if it’s not innuendo?” He’s flicked the ship to auto-pilot - on his feet - looming towards you. You’re caught in the hatchway, unable to step backwards to fall down the ladder, unwilling to turn your back. "If you've got the right idea?"

“What?” you repeat - licking your lips again. Your eyes are flicking back and forth from his visor to his hands. It’s almost like you're expecting a fight.

“I want to fuck you.”

The words are matter-of-fact but delivered in a low baritone, a gravelly rasp that lifts the hairs on the back of your neck. You stop breathing for a second - he can see it - and your leg twitches, just half a step backward - but then you swing it forward again, swaying towards him. Like he has you in his gravitational pull.

It’s all Din needs. He closes the distance between you, his gloved hands closing around your biceps, the leather worn and warm through your shirt.

He says your name, once, in a digital growl that curls your toes in your boots. And then it’s like an explosion - it all happens so quickly; there are hands and clothes everywhere and then on the deck, and in the aftermath you are in the Mandalorian’s arms, naked, your legs around his waist as he presses you up against the bulkhead.

His chestplate hits the deck - his flak jacket lifted above his head when you let him stop touching you long enough. You barely have time to appreciate the feel of his naked hands on your skin, cupping your breasts in his broad, smooth palms, thumbing your nipples all-too-briefly before he’s sliding down the zipper of his flight suit and baring a V of muscled flesh all the way to his groin.

“Mando,” you gasp as he frees his cock, as he maneuvers the throbbing, purpled head to drag through your slit. He finds you open and wet, lips parted for him, and he groans as he nudges against your fluttering hole. He doesn't hesitate.

He pushes in slow, for he’s a lot to take, thick and hard and the stretch is almost too much. You whine, your voice high and tight in your throat, and he soothes you with soft little noises and praise that makes you feel light-headed.

“Shhh, that’s it,” “You’re so fucking tight-” “Made to take my cock, mesh’la" and other words you don’t recognize. Eventually, he’s all the way inside you, his pelvis flush to yours, the scratch of hair at his pubic bone pressing into your mound.

You pant in his arms, eyes squeezed shut, a thin resin of sweat risen on your brow. “Move,” you order through clenched teeth, and finally you open your eyes to meet his visor and demand, “Fuck me, Mando.”

And he does - withdrawing his hips from the welcoming cradle of yours, his cock dragging back through you, and you can feel every ridge and vein before he’s spearing back in, jarring your back against the bulkhead. It’s a shock right through your system, and you can feel adrenaline flooding your veins, your blood pumping faster like you’re fighting for your life. You might as well be, for he does it again, and again, and soon he’s setting a punishing pace that hits against something soft and devastating deep inside you.

Your orgasm hits you like a blow you fail to dodge - winding you, knocking the air from your lungs - and for a moment all that matters is the blinding flash of pleasure through your nerves, the rolling wave that makes your cunt flutter in rippling spasms around the pulsing rod of his cock. He pins your hips with another vicious rut of his hips and then he’s coming, too, releasing into the impossible grip of your body, groaning with every spurt of spend he fills you with.

“Fuck,” Din summarizes, once you both can catch your breath - once your legs start to loosen, jelly-weak as he pulls out gently, lowering your feet back to the ground. He’s suddenly nervous - worried he’s fucked this up, done the wrong thing, lost patience and paid for it with your scorn.

But your smile is brilliant as you beam up at him - your face radiant - flushed and sweaty. You are beautiful.

“Next time, don't waste time dropping hints,” you tell him, and then you reassure him with a laugh, and the wonderful feeling of your arms around his neck.

For a while, he just holds you close. And for a while, the bullets in his stomach are gone.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 42: Sensitive

“I’m tired of hiding,” Draco whispered into Harry’s skin, the other man still smelled of sweat, and heat, and them.

Harry trailed his fingers along Draco's spine, "Let's not decide tonight," he said reasonably, they'd been through this before. Sometimes, especially after sex, Draco decided that he wanted to tell everyone about the two of them. Harry was always willing, and had told Hermione and Ron, in fact, because Draco had said he was telling his parents. But that was months ago and Draco's parents still didn't know.

And it was fine, truly. Harry didn't care about the rest of the world. He didn't mind pretending they were just friends as long as he got to come home to Draco each night.

"I'm sorry," Draco said, his face crumpling, "Merlin, Harry." He sat up out of Harry's embrace and rubbed his hands over his face. "I've made a mess."

"You haven't," Harry said, sitting up with him. "Sweetheart," he pressed a kiss to his temple, "Don't do this to yourself."

"I've done this too many times," he said, "You don't even believe that I want to come out anymore."

"I don't think that," Harry said, pulling the sheets up higher around his waist and wandlessly summoning his glasses. "There are a lot of reasons to keep this a secret. Your parents-"

"Are bigots," Draco finished.

Harry cupped his face in his palm, "They're still your parents."

"And I am their son," he replied. "I'm telling them tomorrow. At brunch."

Harry shook his head, "I'm not asking you to do that. This is fine," he said, gesturing to the two of them. "So much better than fine, it's good, Draco. I love you."

"I love you, too, Harry," he said, "And that's the point. You are amazing and I am proud to call you mine. I'm telling them," he said decisively.

"Okay," Harry breathed, pressing a kiss to his temple. "But I won't be upset if you change your mind."

"I won't."

(Read more below the cut)

Draco left for brunch at his parents' at 10:30 so Harry assumed he wouldn't be back for at least a couple of hours. He had a routine on the days Draco went to brunch; he made coffee; wrote notes to Molly, Minerva, Luna, and Hagrid; and then curled up in the chair by the fire to read a book.

He was entirely unprepared for the floo to sound in the middle of his letter to Molly, a mere twenty minutes after Draco had left. "Babe?" he called, standing and heading toward their living room, "What did you forge-" he started but broke off when he saw Draco standing in the middle of the living room, looking stunned and lost, with tears sliding down his cheeks.

"Hey," Harry murmured, hastening forward to pull Draco into his arms. "Are you alright?"

Draco's fingers clenched in Harry's shoulders. "They disowned me," he whispered.

"What?" Harry asked, his stomach dropping, this had been exactly what he was afraid of. He could never expect that Draco would choose him when the cost was so high. "It's okay," he murmured, his voice clenching tight around the words. "Fuck," he breathed, it felt like his chest was being torn in two. "I'll go, love," he said.

"What?"

"I'll go," he repeated, pressing a kiss to Draco's forehead, "You can tell them I was a lapse in judgement," he said, he couldn't ask this much of him.

"Harry, stop," Draco said, pulling back to look at him, "I told them they could go to hell."

"What?"

He nodded, "They told me I was being ridiculous, that I was turning twenty-five in a few months and they'd already found a wife for me."

"They found a wife for you?" Harry repeated incredulously.

"Yes. I told them I'd never marry her," he shook his head, "and my father told me that no son of his," he paused and let out a shaky exhale, before visibly steeling himself to continue, "No son of his would be a bloody poof."

Harry stared at him, aghast, what could he even say?

"He told me to stop being so sensitive and to grow up." Draco shook his head, "As though I haven't been grown up since the summer I turned sixteen."

"What did you say?"

"That if no son of his was a poof, then I was no son of his." Draco looked down and Harry watched a tear roll down his cheek, "He burned my picture on the tapestry."

He held the other man tighter, "I don't know what to say, Draco. I'm so sorry."

Draco shook his head and pulled back, wiping the tears from his face, "It's fine. It doesn't matter because we're free," he said, looking up at Harry with hopeful eyes, "We don't have to hide anymore."

"Come to family dinner at the Weasley's with me tonight," Harry entreated. "Let's tell them together, they'll be thrilled and they'll finally stop trying to set me up with Charlie."

"Are you sure?" Draco asked.

Harry nodded, "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

The Weasleys were good at adopting people into their family, Draco was no exception. They'd opened champagne in their honor, had officially added a chair to the Sunday dinner seating chart, and by the time Draco and Harry were getting ready to floo back to their home Molly had a pale blue jumper ready for Draco to take with him.

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

Two months passed, they came out to everyone they knew and people were overwhelmingly supportive. The press had a field day, but that was mostly about who they were, "childhood rivals," "the savior and the death eater," etc, and not so much about the fact that they were both men.

Everything seemed to be turning out fine, better than fine even, but Harry knew that what had happened with his parents still weighed on the other man. There was nothing Harry could do and any time he'd catch Draco thinking about it, Draco would just give him that sad little smile and shake it off.

One afternoon, when Draco was at work, there was a sharp knock at the door. Harry frowned, he hadn't been expecting anyone. He opened the door to see Narcissa Malfoy standing on their front stoop, looking elegant and regal, her chin held high as she looked Harry up and down.

"Draco's at work," Harry blurted because he wasn't sure what to say.

"I'm aware," she replied coolly. "Do you think you might invite me in?"

He took a hasty step back, "Yes, of course. Tea?" he offered.

"Thank you."

"Right," he said, starting off, "The kitchen's this way." He made his way into the kitchen and put on the kettle before taking out a box of biscuits and offering one to Mrs. Malfoy.

"So he lives here with you?" she asked, looking around the room.

"Yeah," Harry replied as he fetched down two mugs. "Yeah, we bought the place about eighteen months ago at this point."

"It's charming," she replied.

Harry fetched the whistling kettle and made their tea. "Why are you here?"

"Is he happy?" she asked in lieu of answering Harry's question.

"As he can be when two of the most important people in his life abandoned him because he had the audacity to love someone," he replied.

Her face hardened, "You have no idea what it's like to live in the world we live in."

"I don't care," he spat. "I don't care about any of that. I know what it's like to live in the world that Draco lives in now. He keeps pictures of you and his father by the bed. He tells me stories about the two of you all the time. He just starts crying sometimes, because he misses you and he's fallen asleep crying more times that I've been able to keep track of. You've broken his heart.

"And," Harry continued, "If you are just here to hurt him again and to tell him that he's not enough as he is, that he was never enough, you can turn around and walk out the door."

"I came to see you, Mr. Potter," she said before taking a long sip of tea. "What could I give you to convince you not to see my son anymore?"

"Nothing," Harry said. "And if that's all you came for, you can see yourself out."

"Do you love him?"

"Immeasurably."

She stared at him for a long moment, "Will it be enough?"

"For?"

She raised the teacup to her lips before answering, "That's the question, isn't it?" Mrs. Malfoy set the cup down once more, "Did you know that Lucius and I were not intended for one another?" she asked. "Our parents made different matches for both of us but we fell in love and fortunately our blood lines were compatible."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"We've often questioned the decision we made," she said, like it wasn't difficult to admit something of this magnitude at all. "I think that Lucius doesn't want Draco to repeat our mistakes."

"This isn't a mistake," he protested. "I love him and I would do anything for him."

"Anything?" she asked. "Would you give him up? Give him a better life?"

"If I believed it was possible for someone to give him a better life than me I would in a heartbeat," he replied evenly. "But we are happy together, we've built a whole life together, one that he was too afraid to even tell you about because he cares so much about it."

The floo sounded and Draco tumbled through, "You'll never guess what flavor ice cream Fortiscues ha-" he broke off, freezing in place, "Mother," he managed and Harry could see the way be ached to touch her.

"Draco," she whispered and she rose and flew across the room, pulling him into her arms, "I've missed you my darling."

"I've missed you, too," Draco replied, voice thick with unshed tears. After a moment he pulled back, "But I haven't changed my mind," he said, reaching for Harry's hand and Harry moved around the table to stand next to him, slotting their fingers together.

"Yes," she said, a smile tugging the corner of her lips and making her look so like Draco. "He's made that much clear," she said, nodding to Harry.

"I don't understand."

She sighed, "I won't make the mistakes my parents made with Andromeda. If you love him, you have my blessing," she said. "I will continue to work on bringing your father round."

"Really?" Draco whispered and Harry squeezed his hand.

"Yes," she said, glancing over at Harry, "I can scarcely imagine someone who could love you more than he seems to." She brushed her thumb over his cheek, "You are my darling boy and I want you to have the world," she said. "And it seems that Mr. Potter will stop at nothing to give it to you."

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

Day 41: Embrace | Day 43: Truth or Dare

Sorry, friends, this one is messy. I'm just too tired to clean it up any more tonight. I'll take a look and fix it up tomorrow. <3

[thebopkabbalah]

NOTES ON TELEVISION P.2

in chicken pox isolation, despite a long distance from t.v. shows in general and a will to read/watch films, i did end up consuming a lot of television. so here we go - this is from the last week or so, dating between 27th november to 4th december 2022. there are spoilers below. 

house of the dragon finale (repeat watch, hotstar) 

i rewatched the entire season and was very satisfied with spending more time in the GRRM universe, though here i’ll talk only about the finale. for an ending, it’s a pretty standard and solid delivery that, on my first watch, really kept the tension building towards the latter half very well -- on my second watch, though i knew what Vhaghar was going to do, just the visual of her overhead was enough to make me tense again. couldn’t quite connect with rhaenyra and daemon as a unit this time, especially when he does what he does. it seems a little out of line - was it just for the sake of unpredictability? or was this a development of his characterization? i don’t know. i think one more extra thing i love about HoTD was the music, the world building and production/costuming...just absolutely excellent. it’s still not quite as lived in a world as game of thrones but it could reach there. i think they need to stop hurrying so much? GODDAMN EMAA D’ARCY IS SO HOT. i’m very happy to see non-binary folks on screen. cannot wait for season 2, i’m a bit obsessed with the GRRM universe. ugh. 

the crown season 5 (netflix)

let’s be honest, this was a pretty shitty/average season. nobody except the actor playing diana was the least bit convincing - the camilla actor looked shockingly like her so really well done there. but the queen, the king, charles etc etc very average. i also found the narrative building/construction incredibly weak, loose and disconnected - what were the episodes moving towards? there was no direction to what i was watching and mostly, i skipped through the season only pausing to see diana. the season also seemed very pro charles-camilla, which was very odd and unsettling. definitely a waste of time, even someone as fucking brilliant as lesley manville seemed wasted in the show!!!! who cares to be honest, we could put this money into more interesting historical / period dramas now, really. awfully done. 

interview with the vampire (downloaded)

well well well, what a sexy little romp this was. there are some incredibly compelling things about it  - um, jacob fkn andersen for a start??? wow. also the beauty of being able to say a queer black man in a historical-supernatural setting, dealing with so many things, it was really fucking wonderful. sam reid is also incredible charismatic, would find myself wondering - ugh, why am i rooting so much for him??? the costuming was off the fucking charts. their child-sister was alright, improved later but not convinced by the actor tbh. i was also unconvinced by the lack of sexual intimacy/queer sex (hello???), it was always only ever suggested types, i thought the whole dubai set-up was too weirdly done, i didn’t find the actor playing Rashid/Armand very convincing or compelling (props for muslim representation but couldn’t we have picked another actor??) and the journalist also felt a little one note, not very COMPELLING.....especially for a show with so much promise!!!!!! music was lovely, the sexy vibes were almost perfect - but we could have seen more lore, more world building? idk. lots of fantastic queer, race and class politics!!! a mixed bag of being horny, happy and confused!!!

dead to me season 3 (netflix) 

this one started out okay, a little too on the nose with the hit and runs and overlaps to be honest but now it’s really dragging itself. it’s also like too much put together without much thought? jen is pregnant, judy has cancer, they’re making all kinds of claims to the fbi and the police? it’s getting harder and harder to take this universe seriously. before all the orchestrated chaos that seems to have little impact on the viewer, i was actually laughing. the dialogues were great first half, despite the hit and run gag etc, and i was living for this amazing female best-friendship on screen (YOU ARE MY FUCKING HEART! is something i want to scream at my best friend one day too!!!! its such a great moment) - but ya halfway through it seems to lose its steam, purpose and earlier energy?? why does jen’s house start looking like an ad shoot??? why is the fbi made up of only one agent who lives in a motel?? it’s like the show wants to create a number of different rules for its universe - campy? dark comedy? telenovela-esque?- idk, something’s off this time round -- or maybe i’m projecting too much realism? let’s see, two episodes left now. 

wednesday (netflix) 

ah! wheuew! after hearing so much from my flatmate, being shown that incredible dance sequence and the praise from my cousin as well as constant tumblr trending, i watched this in the span of a day or so. shouldn’t be so proud of super fast consumption but this was really very good!!! nearly excellent!!!! the music is absolutely exceptional, i will be hearing jenna ortega’s cello solo in my head for a while. she’s also absolutely PHENONEMAL. i love her and enid’s friendship, i was crying at that hug bitches. other characters are also great, though not given a lot of time to develop/gather depth. do agree that the black characters felt very detached from their racial identites even as racial politics is part of the show??? it was a lil weird. gwendolyn christie is a gorgeous one, though she stood often in only one pose. was this deliberate? catherine zeta jones did not fully convince me - but the 1990s casting was too good. that bee friend of hers was ok ok, some of the twists were expected, some were wildcards which i enjoyed. i really enjoyed this so much, surprisingly - i don’t really see the CW ties that many critics have pointed out, the tone is very much its own/certain/great. jenna ortega holds the whole damn thing together so perfectly. i would contest that the CGI/production is sometimes a little off and the narrative is weak in places, even the dialogue falls short at moments...but damn it, i enjoyed it so much. now im going to go back to my typewriter too!!!!!! 

[bts-weverse-trans]

201124 Weverse Magazine ‘BE’ Comeback Interview - J-Hope

j-hope: “Even just one, single love is beautiful, but we’re getting love from all over the world” BTS BE comeback interview 2020.11.24

On April 28, j-hope streamed a Log ( ON ) video of his dance warm-up on BTS’s YouTube channel, BANGTANTV. Over the course of an hour and four minutes, he stretches out his whole body, gradually advances from small motions up to big movements, and demonstrates more of his other techniques. And he didn’t leave out his cooldown exercise, either. This has been j-hope’s life as a BTS member for the past seven years.

A whole lot happened this year. j-hope: Like I said in another interview, it’s been a roller coaster of a year. It started out with our performance at the Grammys, which was really, really, great, and then Map of the Soul: 7 came out, which was great, too, and then it plummeted. With COVID-19 happening, I did a lot of thinking, did some studying, then everyone met “Dynamite” and we had some great results. And the ride repeated. Roller coasters are scary, but you keep thinking about them even after you get off. That’s how I felt about this year: it was scary, but memorable.

One of those memorable things must be how “Dynamite” topped the Billboard Hot 100 but you never had a chance to actually go to the U.S. j-hope: So when we got first place, we couldn’t even check the charts. We were asleep. We checked when we woke up, and there we were, at the top. But then we went straight to work. (laughs) We had to film something here in Korea. It was hard to enjoy ourselves, the whole situation being what it was, but it was all right because we could still enjoy it together.

You must have had a lot on your mind, making BE during this kind of year. j-hope: I tend to think of BTS albums as being a reflection of the whole team, but this time I thought of it as putting in the stories I wanted to tell, making it my music and infusing myself into the new album while still being a BTS album. It turned out to be right at home with BTS’s color, and the whole team’s energy led to an even bigger synergy.

What made you think to go in that direction? j-hope: We started this album off by getting together and asking what kind of story we wanted to tell. The end result of that conversation was, “Well, hey, we still have to live with this situation; we can’t give up.” And from there, “Life Goes On” was born, and then we got to work on the stories we each wanted to tell. I think it sounds more raw, since we tried to capture the emotions we felt living through the pandemic.

I imagine you each had a lot of songs you wanted to include, and that your opinions were probably all a bit different. How did you compromise on the final product? j-hope: None of us made any kind of plan. We’d listen to a track and someone would ask, “Hey, anybody wanna give this a try?” and someone else would say, “Me! I’ll do it.” We just did it that way. There were clashes, too. When each person starts to speak louder, it’s hard to find a common ground. But we’ve always been good at communicating with one another, and we know when to back down or be gracious, so everything went smoothly including planning for the unit songs.

How did each of you choose your songs? You put “Dis-ease” on the album. j-hope: There’s one song where we were working in the studio and someone said, “That track wasn’t very good, was it? Jung Kook’s one before was better” and we’d switch on the spot. The song would be done recording and we talked to the label and ended up switching it out. We listened to it all together and said, “What about this?” And that’s how we decided. So then “Life Goes On” was done, and I wasn’t sure if “Dis-ease” would be on the album. We gave the seven songs from each member to Jimin, who was project manager, and he suggested we listen to them first and then get feedback from people inside the company. I think it was one of the stories each member could feel was his own.”

Where did you get the idea for the theme of “Dis-ease”? j-hope: First, I wanted to get into the mindset that this song is a sickness. When I make a song, I work on the chorus first, and then move onto the first verse. When I had only finished the chorus the song felt upbeat, but I thought the overall theme shouldn’t be too playful. That wouldn’t reflect how I felt. But while the theme of “Dis-ease” itself isn’t very light, when it fuses with the beat, it feels as if the song is trying to get over itself and stay positive. So I threw some scratching into the chorus and put in some “bbyap bbyap bbayp” and then started to think, “Aha! I’d better call this song ‘Dis-ease.’ ”

I didn’t expect you to write a song portraying your love–hate relationship with your work as a disease. A lot of people would expect you to have a positive, hopeful attitude, given your name. j-hope: I was too busy to ever give much thought about the work itself. But, as you know, that suddenly changed, and there was a lot we could no longer do. When I was working, I’d say, “Ugh, I need a break,” but then we took time off and the words, “Ugh, I want to work,” jumped out of my mouth! That’s what made me think more closely: “Why is this bothering me? I have a chance to rest—just take it. Why do I feel like I need to work under these circumstances? Is this an occupational disease?” I felt like this was a part of me that I could express at this point in time.

This is the first time in your lyrics I’ve heard how hard you push yourself to be successful. It made me wonder about the burden you felt about work over the past seven years. j-hope: Out of habit, I would say, “I’m okay; I have hope,” and keep working, but I think I was just avoiding my work-related problems rather than facing them head on. The nice thing about music is that I can say what’s on my mind, even feeling of sadness or depression, in beautiful ways.  I don’t usually express those feelings but this time I wanted to try.

It sounds like you have lots of different thoughts about work. j-hope: With my work? Well, actually, I’m not sure. Work is kind of an ugly duckling. Work gives me good energy but there’s energy you get from resting. But someone like me feels alive when they’re working, so I need to keep moving and keep doing. I feel anxious when I stop and content when I go. Every once in a while I don’t want to work, but I can’t not work.

You’re saying you and work go well together? j-hope: Exactly. It’s easier just to think simple. If you think too hard, that’s when things get difficult. Because I’m me, I can’t just keep it simple all the time, but I’m trying my hardest to do my best.

Thinking simple isn’t always so simple. j-hope: Yeah. Maybe it’s because I don’t have many problems to deal with. I feel uncertainty because of that. Uncertain about how my identity will be affected if I do encounter some great hardship.

BTS has faced a lot of hardship, though, right? j-hope: That is also true. (laughs) But the team wouldn’t have kept going if it’d just been me cheering ourselves on. We’re possible because we all think the same way. I wonder if we would’ve been able to come this far if it was just me saying, “Let’s go, guys!” That’s why I’m even more thankful to the other members.

What do those emotional changes affect your music? j-hope: I didn’t want to make an overly cheery song this time. I thought it would be best to do some softer songs about the way I was feeling this whole time, so I chose “Dis-ease” as well as “Fly to My Room.” The other members also thought, “Yeah, we’ve done a lot of bright songs, so it should be fine if we try it this way, too.” “Blue & Grey” is like that, too. I love that song.

You have a completely different voice when you rap on “Blue & Grey.” Did your rap style also change, along with your emotions? j-hope: I wanted “Blue & Grey” to sound like I was talking, actually. The tone and feel of my voice changes a lot depending on how I vocalize my rap.  I noticed that a lot this time. Namjoon actually helped me a ton. His part was after mine, so I turned to him and said, “Maybe it would sound better if I did it like this,” and tried it out. Then I used his advice and found the right sound.

How does it feel moving away from your normal style? j-hope: It’s really refreshing. I thought it wouldn’t work but I think it did after all. And I always thought this was a feel that I wanted to give it a try. For me, BE is sort of like the first step down an unfamiliar path, so there were parts that were challenging, and also parts that were a welcome change.

I think your rap in “Dis-ease” demonstrates that change well. Instead of trying to keep time in the intro, your flow just follows the story. j-hope: I made sure not to overthink anything this time. It ended up sounding natural because I just matched the rhythm of the words as they left my mouth. And it was refreshing because I haven’t done a long verse like in “Dis-ease” in forever. When we rap, there tend to be four or eight-ish lines; I thought I’d try and pack in a verse with sixteen. It also helped because the lyrics came out before many of the other things for this song.

The music makes “Dis-ease” sound upbeat, but then there’s a surprising message: “To be honest, I have this problem.” It’s like you were holding yourself back from crossing a line. j-hope: It was something like that. Shouldn't we stay on this line? Maybe that’s a disease too (laughs). I thought if j-hope leaned too much to one side people might think that’s strange, too. That’s why I tried to stick to my standards, but since I’m also human I also expressed emotions I couldn’t articulate into music.

You don’t want to try and cross that line? j-hope: I’ve thought about it, obviously. I want to, but in my life itself and in my mind, I always think if there’s a line, it shouldn’t be crossed. But I’m becoming more generous to myself about crossing lines when it comes to music.

So you haven’t crossed yet, but right now you want to say, “I have something else,” and go further. j-hope: Yes. This is maybe a time when I really need to. I’ve been lucky because I met great people, had success and reached where I am now. Now that I’m here, I always want to try new things myself and keep growing. That’s why I’m working hard and thinking about what kind of music I should make.

There’s a part in “Fly to My Room” where you sing, “You can change the way you think.” It’s like you were explaining the past seven years of your life. j-hope: It all depends on how you look at it. Say there’s some kind of food. You might feel lonely while eating it by yourself, but if you forget about your loneliness for a minute and think, “There is no difference in food I would be eating out (with other people) anyway,” then it’s just like eating out. So even though I was stuck feeling lonely at home, I started to think of it as another trip instead. I thought of my room as my world, and delivery food as a three-star hotel meal. As you can tell from the title, I worked on that song by thinking about the way I endured this year so far.

And why did you decide to “change the way you think?” j-hope: Because I get a lot of love. Because I’m in this position and in this place, there’s things I have to deal with, and I should do things and think things I am able to bear. I thought about that a lot and accepted it. So I thought about what I could do during these hard times, and how I could help out my friends, my team. I think I’m still going through that process, too, so everything’s an “-ing”, because I might need to know what to do later about what I can do, even if I don’t quite know it yet.

What effect does being surrounded by so much love have on you? j-hope: It’s amazing to be loved by even one person. Even just one, single love is beautiful, but we’re getting love from all over the world. And I know this isn’t something to take for granted. I’m so incredibly thankful that sometimes I feel overwhelmed just thinking, ‘Wow, how can I ever return this much love?’ I want to express that in any way possible, every moment I can, because I’m so honored to be so loved that I can’t begin to put it into words.

A little while ago, in an interview with Rolling Stone India, you said that, when you were young, you equated debuting with success. What does success mean to you now, now that you’ve had success after success? j-hope: Success … It’s a simple idea, but it can weigh on you. In all aspects of life, I think success means being satisfied with what you’re able to do.When you lose faith in your work and it starts becoming a chore, that’s when it starts to get depressing.

There are inevitably times when you can’t enjoy it. j-hope: It’s just, you know, it’s really simple. If you can’t do it now, you can always do it later. Do that, and you can put your mind at ease. And I think that’s the secret to living a long, happy life. Anything you can’t do in your 20s, you can just do in your 40s. Of course, there’s going to be stuff you should do now while you’re still (laughs) energetic. But if that’s the position you’re in right now, you just have to ride it out. Try again later if you can’t enjoy yourself now. You’ll probably feel different in the future anyway. Yeah, that was pretty much the key to my self-preservation.

Where do you find the strength to hold on like that? j-hope: From the group, it’s very clear what that is. It’s our fans. ARMY. We had to pull through, for the fans. At any time of any day, the fans come first. I keep thinking about how painful it would be for the fans if we just gloss over something or feel like giving up just because we’re having a hard time. I was 20 when we made our debut. I didn’t know much about having a social life, but the messages our fans sent were a big comfort and gave us hope. I learned a lot just by reading fan letters and understanding the kind of thoughts they had. Fans and artists really are one and the same.

That makes me think of a line from “Life Goes On”: “People say the world has changed but thankfully between you and me, nothing has changed.” j-hope: Yes, right. I thought that line expressed the feeling really well as soon as I first heard it. Yoongi wrote that. He is really good. (laughs) I think that describes our relationship with our fans.

Trans © Weverse

[evienyx]

DSMP Citizens POV 7: The Lonesome Vessel

DSMPsona created by anon

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Before the L'Manburg Revolution, Iris had never really bothered with combat. She'd taken her physical education classes at school as a kid, had done a few extra sword-training classes as a teenager when her mother put her into them, but other than that, there wasn't really anything.

When the Revolution happened, though, Iris, who had already joined up with the rebellion when it was just starting out, took up arms at General Wilbur Soot's call and went out to the battle field, her heart pounding and blade sharp.

As she stepped onto the battlefield, entering into her first bout of combat with one of Dream's soldiers, something within her changed. Voices chanted in her head, screaming their desire to be appeased, one that could only be fulfilled by the spilling of blood.

Death, Death, Death!

Blood, Blood, Blood!

Blood for the Blood God!

Iris roared and slashed wildly at whoever she saw. Power thrummed in her veins, blood splashing across her armor and voices screaming in her ears as it did.

A soldier in L'Manburg colors ran past her. The voices screamed even louder, and Iris thrust her sword forward.

A moment later, she was lying in the medical tent that had been set up at the edge of the battlefield. Curtains shielded her from the rest of the tent. Her mind was deafeningly silent.

Iris realized that her limbs were restrained, her armor and weapons gone. Her throat was dry and her head pounded.

After a few minutes, the curtain pulled back, and a man in a medical coat peeked inside.

"You're awake?"

Iris locked gazes with him and nodded.

The doctor glanced outside before giving her a nod of his own and closing the curtain. She was alone again.

About ten more minutes passed before the curtain opened again and General Soot stepped inside.

"Sir," Iris said, trying to sit up before remembering the restraints.

"Iris," Soot replied, sounding even more exhausted than he looked. "How are you feeling?"

She swallowed. Her throat hurt, and when she spoke, it was hoarse, as if she had screamed at a concert all night. "Tired." She scrunched her nose. "My arms hurt."

Soot's lips formed into a thinner line and he nodded. "Yes, well, you were swinging that sword quite a bit."

Iris furrowed her brow. "What're you talking about?"

The general sighed. "I was afraid of that." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before meeting her gaze. "What do you remember about the battle?"

"Uh, nothing, really. I... fought a few people, I think, and then I guess I must've been knocked unconscious."

Soot's eyes were hard, but sad. "You were not. You lasted through the whole battle."

"What happened, then?"

Soot was silent.

Iris narrowed her eyes and pressed on. "What happened?"

"You were like a machine, Iris," Soot explained. "No one... No one could quite describe it. You cut down every person in your path, whether they were enemy or ally." Iris's heart sank and her blood ran cold. "Can you remember anything else? I need to know."

"Uh..." Iris wracked her brain for answers, but her head was still pounding, aching from the screams of the voices in her mind. "I mean... There were... voices. Voices, in my head? They... They wanted me to kill people."

Soot, as if his attention hadn't already been completely on her, leaned in, his eyes widening just a bit. "Voices?" She nodded. He grabbed her by the forearms, turning her toward him a bit more, despite the restraints digging into her flesh as he did so. "What did they say? Do you remember what they said?"

"Uh..." Iris nodded shakily, her heart pounding in her chest. "Yeah. They... They talked about the, er, the Blood God? Like what people always call Technoblade, you know, the famous warrior?"

Soot's eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment before he leaned back and nodded. "Yes, I know." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Iris... I'm not going to sugarcoat this for you. I think that we have every reason to believe that you are a vessel of the Blood God."

A chill ran down her spine. "What... What does that-"

"People often believe that Technoblade is a vessel of the Blood God, as well. He is not. He is the chosen of the Blood God. Those voices you heard while you were fighting? He hears those all the time, screaming for blood, and apparently being rather annoying as well."

Despite the bombshell being dropped on her, Iris managed to focus on his words and ask, "How do you know all this stuff about Technoblade?"

"Lived with him for years," Soot said, waving his hand around. "Not important. What is important is this: Controlling the desires of the Blood God that are within you is going to be difficult. Many go mad trying to fight against them. As you are simply a vessel, those voices will only come out when you are actively in combat, but they will never go away. If you plan to continue to fight, you must learn to live with them. We cannot have a repeat of the last battle, where you kill many of our own troops, as well."

Iris swallowed and nodded. "I'll do better next time, sir."

Soot cracked a smile, the bags more apparent than ever. "I'm sure of it."

During the next battle, Iris held her weapon in her hand, slashed at the first enemy soldier that she encountered, and then found herself restrained in the medical tent once more, President Soot standing over her with eyes even more sunken than the day before.

Iris felt tears spring to her eyes and shoved her head back into the pillow beneath her.

"You'll always have a home here," General President Soot told her after the Revolution ended, L'Manburg gained independence, and Iris had decided to pack up and leave. "Regardless of what happened on the battlefield, you still fought for this country. No one blames you for what happened." He paused and released a sigh. "The Blood God is as ruthless with its Vessels as it is with us mortals."

Iris huffed. "You don't need to tell me twice." Her thoughts fell to the voices, screaming in her mind.

Death, Death, Death!

Blood, Blood, Blood!

Blood for the Blood God!

She shuddered and glanced up at President Soot. "I need to leave. As long as I am here, people are in danger. The voices showed up the moment I picked up a weapon. If something were to happen, there would be nothing I could do, nothing anyone could do." She ran a hand through her hair and shook her head. "It's better this way."

President Soot was silent for a moment before nodding solemnly. "That's what I thought you'd say. Still, should you ever wish to return, the gates of L'Manburg will open wide to those who fought for them to stay standing."

Iris cracked a smile and nodded. President Soot returned the gesture before stepping out of the tent that she had been staying in. Iris tied the sack that held all the things she couldn't fit in her inventory and set off. She made a quick pit stop at the Pet Sanctuary, an underground bunker that had held the pets of all L'Manburg soldiers during the war, keeping them safe and protected from both battle and Sapnap, who was both their enemy and infamous for killing pets.

Iris grabbed her cat, Tabi, and pulled an empty beehive from her inventory to allow her bee, Honeycomb, to travel in safety and comfort. Finally, she set off, her fingers tightly wound in a lead attached to Tabi's collar, Honeycomb's hive tucked into her inventory. Iris gave a final wave to the soldiers standing guard at the L'Manburg walls and began to walk.

After fifteen minutes, she was at the top of a hill, looking down over the independent land of L'Manburg. Already, there were more people than had been during the Revolution, people from the Greater SMP and other servers having begun to move in.

After another half-hour, L'Manburg was barely visible in the distance.

Fifteen more minutes after that, and it was gone completely.

Reaching the edge of the charted land on her map, Iris pulled a boat from her inventory, setting it up while Tabi investigated a small patch of wildflowers growing nearby. Iris picked up her cat and plopped the animal between her legs as she sat down in the boat. Making sure she had everything, Iris used a stick to push off from the shore and set off into the ocean.

She followed the coast, mostly. Eventually, she reached a grassy plain that seemed to stretch on for as far as her eye could see. As the sun began to set, she finally pulled up onto a small beach just outside of a coastal village. She stored her boat, held Tabi's lead in her hand, and set off into the village.

The town was small enough that they didn't have an inn, but a farmer and his wife were nice enough to allow her to bunk in the barn for the night to avoid the monsters, and Iris fell asleep to the sound of an Iron Golem guard pummeling a zombie into dust.

Another day of boating passed before Iris settled on a small clearing a little ways into a spruce forest island to call her new home. Tabi's lead tied around a tree, she quickly set to work making a small tent to stay in while she worked on a more permanent home. A few weeks passed, but she was rather satisfied with her work as she took down the tent and spent her first official night in her new cottage. Tabi curled up on her chest, Honeycomb resting in her hive in the small garden she had made, Iris fell asleep to the sounds of rustling leaves, flickering torches, and distant waves crashing against a rocky shore.

Iris would spend a lot of her time exploring, after that, hopping across nearby islands. She constructed an Iron Golem to guard her clearing after a hoard of mobs appeared during the first night and she had been forced to hide under the floorboards and be as silent as possible until day arrived and they burned in the light of the sun. She refused to pick up a weapon again. The voices still stung in her mind (Blood for the Blood God!), and she didn't know what would happen if they took over again. She didn't want to know what would happen if the only thing for them to hurt were Tabi and Honeycomb.

The islands nearby varied in terms of what they had on them. Some were barren, others sported lush forests. One had a ravine so long and deep it almost cut the island itself in half. At one point, she arrived at a point that she had thought was an island, but was actually large enough to be considered mainland, stretching so far that she had to spend the night at a village after she realized that she didn't have enough time to get home before dark.

Iris mapped out the nearby islands, as well as the mainland, and explored them enough that she eventually didn't even need a map to explore them anymore. She knew them like the back of her hand.

That was why, when a small hut popped up in the stretch of plains on the coast of the mainland, she was confused. It was night, then, and she was making her way to the nearby village to stay in the inn. This was too interesting to pass up investigating, though, and Iris snuck over and leaned against one of the hut walls, straining to hear what was happening inside.

"-and I have no idea why he did it, because wasn't the whole point that there's-"

"Someone's listening."

"...What?"

"Someone's listening."

"What are you talking about?"

"Through the wall. Right here. Someone's listening." There was a beat of silence, and then a rush of cold air that made the hairs on the back of Iris's neck stand up, and then she was face-to-face with eyes void of anything but inky darkness, set into the grayed-out version of a familiar face. Bright blue teartracks seemed stained on the colorless skin.

"Hello," an echoed voice that almost exactly matched President Soot's said. "Who are you?"

Iris yelped and fell back, barely catching herself against the hut before she hit the ground.

"Ghostbur? Who is it?"

TommyInnit (VP Tommy, she remembered people had started to call him) asked, stepping around the corner of the hut to join the two of them.

"VP Tommy?" She blurted out. "What are you doing here?"

VP Tommy furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about? I was exiled. What are you doing here?"

"I...I live around here! And, what do you mean you were exiled? And why does President Soot look like that? And why did you call him Ghostbur?"

"That's who I am!" The spectral form of the leader of L'Manburg said cheerily. He reached out a translucent hand. "Ghostbur, nice to meet you!"

"We've met," Iris said, still reaching out to shake his hand anyway. His skin was freezing cold, and she though that if she pressed a bit more, her hand would simply slide right through his own.

"He has memory loss," VP Tommy said. "Only remembers the happy things from when he was alive. None of the bad stuff."

"What happened to him? When did he die?"

"A while ago," VP Tommy said, looking rather confused at her lack of knowledge but still managing to glare at her throughout. "How is it you know who both of us are but not what happened to..." His throat bobbed and he glanced away, falling silent.

"I fought in the L'Manburg Revolution," Iris explained. "At least, I did for a bit until President Soot-" She gestured at the grinning ghost- "and I realized that I was a Vessel for the Blood God. I can't control myself whenever I pick up a weapon, and so I moved out here to keep from hurting anyone."

VP Tommy leaned back a bit, his eyes widening. "You're a Vessel of the Blood God?" He asked, his voice sounding a bit hoarse. She nodded. His eyes flicked over her. "You're... You don't have any weapons on you, do you?"

Iris ignored the fact that she had already said that she didn't in favor of shaking her head and raising her hands a bit. "Nope. Nothing. I haven't touched a weapon since the Revolution."

"How do you defend from mobs then?" He asked, his brow scrunching as he crossed his arms.

"I'm normally home before night. If not, I make sure I'm close enough to a village to stay there. At home, everything's lit up, and I even have an Iron Golem to make sure that any stray monsters can be taken down without me having to do anything." She offered the gentlest smile she could. "You don't need to worry about me."

VP Tommy was quiet for a moment before releasing a forced laugh. "Ha, I wasn't worried! I'm never worried! I'm Big Man TommyInnit, I don't get worried about anything!"

Iris raised an eyebrow but she nodded. "Of course. I never would've thought otherwise."

VP Tommy wrinkled his nose and looked to the ground. A moment later, she heard him muffling a yawn.

"Well," Iris said loudly, stretching her arms toward the sky, "I think it's about time that I head off to the village and get settled in for the night. I'm exhausted." She saluted lazily. "Good night, VP Tommy."

"Uh, yeah. 'Night." He didn't return the gesture, but he glanced at Ghostbur, who was fiddling with what looked like a handful of blue and clearly not paying attention to the conversation whatsoever. "C'mon, Ghostbur."

The spirit of the president looked up abruptly, turning from VP Tommy to Iris. "Oh, are you leaving already?" She nodded. He gave her a smile. "Good night, then! I hope next time I get to find out your name!"

Before she could say anything, he had slid through the hut's wall and was gone. VP Tommy stood there for a moment more before disappearing inside as well. Iris hitched up the straps of her bag on her shoulders, checked her inventory, and set off for the village at the edge of the plains. She didn't want to be out in the dark for too long.

The next morning, Iris left the village inn an hour before noon, her bag and inventory stuffed full of ore that she had purchased from the blacksmith.

As she walked through the plains, she stumbled across a figure riding by on a horse. The two of them stopped and stared at one another.

"Uh, hello," Iris said, raising a hand in greeting. "Haven't seen you around here before."

"I'm not from around here," the figure, a piglin hybrid, from the look of it, said gruffly. "Was just visiting an... old friend."

Iris nodded. "Cool. Well, if you're ever in the area again, the village back by the forest edge has incredible potato bread."

The hybrid's eyes lit up a bit. "Really?" She nodded. "I'll have to check it out, then." He observed her for a moment before raising an eyebrow. "Who are you?"

She cracked a smile. "Just a lonesome wanderer, trying to live a peaceful life."

He nodded. "I can respect that. As long as you're not with any sort of government."

She shook her head. "I used to be a part of L'Manburg, but I left right after the Revolution. I... didn't want to be a part of that anymore. Now, it's just me and my pets."

The hybrid hummed, his gaze flicking over her and seeming to notice that she had no weapons. "All right, then." He gave her a nod. "Stay safe, fellow wanderer."

She grinned and returned the gesture. "And you as well." He patted the horse on its flank, and a moment later, they were gone.

Continuing across the plains, Iris came back across the hut that VP Tommy was living in. She thought the ore in her bag and wondered if the teenager, who was apparently exiled (though she didn't know why) would want it.

Iris knocked on the door. There was a beat of silence. Then, the door swung open, and she was met with the face of VP Tommy, eyes red and face blotchy. He sniffed, rubbed at his nose, and scowled at her. "What do you want, bitch?"

Ignoring his aggression, Iris offered a smile and said, "I come bearing gifts."

Though he complained, VP Tommy did agree to take the ores from her, shoving them into his furnace along with some coal that he had apparently gotten that morning. Then, with his eyes narrowed and mouth twisted into a frown, he offered her a porkchop.

Iris started to visit him more and more, after that. She brought Tabi to the village's healer when the cat got sick one day, and that evening showed her pet to VP Tommy on the way home.

"This is Tabi," she said, holding out the cat to the teenager. VP Tommy stared at the cat with raised eyebrows. "Go on, take her. She loves being pet behind the ears."

VP Tommy took the cat in his arms, holding it with a surprising amount of caution. He reached forward and scratched slowly behind Tabi's ear. The cat purred and leaned into the touch. VP Tommy's eyes flew up to meet Iris's as his jaw dropped, and she couldn't help but let out a laugh at his reaction.

Over the time that she visited him, Iris watched as VP Tommy (My name is Tommy, shithead, he insisted after she called him by his old title to his face) deteriorated. His laughs were more forced. His face was more sunken, his hair grew limp, and his the light in his eyes dimmed, the bright blue seeming to fade into a cool gray. Still, he would grin every time she showed up, and would bounce on the balls of his feet as he told her about what he had done since her last visit.

"Ranboo came to visit me," he said one day. "He showed up after Schlatt and Wilbur died and L'Manburg was rebuilt. He's cool, even though he's kind of a pussy."

"Does anyone else come to visit?" She asked, poking at the fire that he had made when the sun began to set.

"Well, Dream is here all the time," he said, but she already knew that. About a week after she started visiting regularly, he had all-but-demanded that she only visit at night, because Dream was there in the daylight and didn't really like when he had other visitors there. "Mexican Dream came here one time, too, but..." Tommy sniffed. "He, uh, he died."

"Oh," Iris said. "I'm sorry."

On certain days, she would let Tommy ramble to her about his problems. He would complain about the 16th of November, about the election from months ago, about his exile from weeks prior. Other days, he would tour her around the things he was building.

"This is Logstedshire," he said, spreading his arms wide. "Ghostbur helped me build it, before he..." His smile faltered. "Before he... left."

She said nothing more, simply pointed at a random building and asked about it. Tommy took the change of topic gratefully and began to ramble on about the mining expedition he had gone on to get the materials.

One day, when Iris was on the way to the village past Logshedshire to trade before she visited Tommy that evening, she looked up from storing away her boat to see the Nether portal just outside of Tommy's home glimmering with particles, the distinct look of a portal that someone had just used.

Iris was confused for a moment, because she was sure that Tommy didn't use his portal anymore, not after the failed beach party (which he had requested she didn't attend, since he didn't think that Dream would like knowing that Tommy was talking with someone he didn't know. Iris still felt bad, though, after hearing about the disaster that befell the party that her teenager friend had been so very excited about).

Then, she looked up and her eyes fell on a tower of mismatched materials, stretching toward the sky. Her stomach dropped, and, ignoring her previous plans, she scrambled up the beach and sprinted toward Logstedshire.

The area was completely destroyed, decimated by what had to be TNT. The tower she had seen started near the pit, reaching to brush against low-hanging clouds in the expanse of sky above. Tommy was nowhere to be seen.

Nearby, Iris abruptly noticed, President Tubbo stood looking up at the tower, shaking his head desperately with tears streaking down his face. "Surely not, surely not," he said lowly, his voice hoarse.

Iris's heart skipped a beat. For the first time since the Revolution, her mind was flooded with voices, screaming, roaring in her ears. She didn't care what they were saying, though, instead covering her mouth with her hands, taking in a painful breath, and beginning to sob.

President Tubbo turned to look at her, just now noticing her presence. He reached a hand out and opened his mouth to speak, but she didn't give him a chance to, instead choosing to turn on her heel and run back to the coastline, tears streaming from her eyes and all plans of heading to the village forgotten. She hopped in her boat and set off in the direction of her home island, her salty tears falling from her cheeks and joining the ocean waters below.

Iris stumbled into her cottage, Tabi moving toward her and rubbing against her leg as she collapsed into a chair, shoving her face into her hands. Her cat's fur stopped brushing against her skin, and a few moments later, a buzzing sound met her ears. She opened her eyes to see Tabi hopping from the windowsill as Honeycomb flew inside, the window wide open behind the two pets. The bee settled on her shoulder, snuggling against Iris's neck and buzzing gently, while Tabi leaped to her lap and curled up there.

Iris pet her cat with a shaking hand and tried to ignore the screaming voices growing louder and louder in her mind.

That evening, she grabbed a pack that she knew had two twin blades stored away inside of it and set off for a nearby island, one covered in a forest so dense that inside of it, you couldn't see the sky. Mobs were there even in the day time, and at night, it was more stuffed with monsters than a dungeon was.

On the edge of the island, Iris watched as a zombie lumbered toward her.

Blood! Blood!

Blood for the Blood God!

Kill it! Kill it!

Finally! Blood!

Everyone shut up, she's gonna do it!

She better!

Blood! Blood! Blood for the Blood God!

Ignoring the 'banter' going on between the voices in her head, the Vessel of the Blood God dropped the pack on the ground, pulled the twin blades from within, and let the voices take over, jumping forward and slashing at the monster in front of her. The voices cheered as blood splashed across her skin, and as her gaze fell on a skeleton near the tree line, she leaped toward it and felt her control over her body fall away.

She woke to the daylight, her cheek pressed against the warm sand of the beach. She heard the waves lapping at the shore. The twin blades she had used rested nearby. Her mind was silent, though the elation of the voices as she sliced through monsters was still very apparent. Iris sat up, grabbed the bag she had abandoned the night before, and scooped the blades inside, careful not to touch it. She then slipped into the boat and set off, leaving the island behind as she headed home.

Halfway there, she felt an alert on her communicator. Glancing down at it, she choked on a breath as her eyes landed on 'TommyInnit' in her messages lighting up. Taking in a deep breath, she clicked on the name and was greeted by a new chat message from her friend.

TommyInnit: Hey, bitch. I realized that Dream is an even Bigger Bitch Boy than I thought. He blew up Logstedshire and I ran away after he left. I'm with Technoblade, now.

TommyInnit: you were real poggers. I'll pay you back for that ore eventually.

Iris sniffed and wiped at her eyes, which were beginning to sting. She swallowed, her throat aching, and grabbed the oars resting on the sides of the boat, starting to paddle back home.

(Later that day, she would return to Logstedshire and root through the rubble for three days straight, searching for any remaining things of Tommy's that she could find.

She found a few photos buried under rocks, at one point. After the first one she touched crumbled to dust immediately, she took pictures of any she found before trying to pick them up. She found a few books that Tommy must have bought from the village. Nothing else really seemed like it would be valuable. Then, though, on her last day of searching, she broke apart a collapsed wall and saw a piece of fabric lying underneath.

She reached forward and carefully picked up the beanie lying on the ground, so covered in dust that it looked gray rather than maroon.

"This was his beanie," Tommy had said. "He had two of these. Phil has the one that he was wearing when he died. He gave this one to me right before we went to fight Manburg."

Iris's fingers tightened around the beanie, and she tucked it safely into a spare spot in her inventory before immediately heading off to the village to use their public Ender chest to put the beanie inside of.

The next time she saw TommyInnit, she would give it back to him. Afterall, he deserved to have the beanie. It was his brother's, wasn't it?

The sun was beginning to set, then.

Iris swallowed down a lump in her throat as phantom voices whispered in her mind and moved faster over the plains, focusing on making her way to the inn before nightfall and trying to ignore the murmurs in her ear asking for blood.)

[refuge-au]

>Open the Doctor’s File

Doc: Receive an Invitation

The conference room was small and sparsely decorated, little more than a round table and a handful of chairs in an empty room. The walls were bare, the table empty, and the window that looked out into the hallways covered by blinds.

The window that looked out onto the street, to the east, may as well have been covered too. The only thing visible when you looked out was the greyish hue of smog.

Doc sat in the chair closest to the door on the east side of the table. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his feet were up on the table. He knew his attempt at nonchalance wasn’t fooling anybody, but it didn’t hurt to try.

Etho sat to his right, leaned over the table and absently spinning a rubix cube in his hands. Every so often he’d scramble it and then solve it quickly afterward, seeming slightly disappointed. His left eye was covered in a plain black eyepatch that wasn’t quite big enough to cover the extent of the scarring.

Bdubs sat on Etho’s other side, the drumming of his fingers on the table and the way his eyes flickered from one side of the room to the other every couple of seconds the only things betraying the amount of nervous energy contained inside him.

Beef sat in the last chair on their side of the table, staring at the covered interior window as if he could see through the blinds and into the hallways behind it. His face was expressionless, apparently lost in thought.

No one spoke.

It was the kind of silence they had sat in many times before- part comfort, of being around people who know you better than almost anyone else in the world, and part anxious anticipation. None of them knew exactly what was going to come next.

They had been contacted individually a week or two ago, letters that had no return address slipped under doors or through mail slots. What usually would have been some sort of threat or insult turned out to be a job interview opportunity.

Come to a certain building two weeks from now, the letters read. Tell the receptionist that you’re looking for refuge. Someone will be in to see you shortly.

The most paranoid of the group (Beef) had found out that it was sent by some sort of government official or organization before he contacted the rest of the group to see if they had received the same summons. After a brief discussion, a decision was reached. They would hear out whoever wanted to talk to them.

If things went down badly… as long as they were together they would be able to fight their way out.

Most of the invitation had been true. They found the correct address, and were taken to a room when they asked for refuge… but the person that they were waiting for had not come shortly. It felt like they had been waiting for an eternity- even though his internal clock told him it had only been about twenty minutes.

Ten more minutes, he decided, and then he would leave. If whoever the hell wanted to talk to them was going to be late, they should have told the receptionist to tell them or something. It was basic human decency- although admittedly that did seem to be in short supply these days.

The door handle turned with a click, and four pairs of eyes locked onto it immediately. There was a moment of nothing, and then the door swung open, letting a relatively tall brunette man into the room.

His hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, all brown except for a single streak of white from a large x-shaped scar that stretched across most of his face. It was an old scar, very faded, the chunks of white in his hair and his beard some of the only things left to prove that it was there.

He looked slightly winded as he smiled, shutting the door behind him. “Hello, gentlemen. Sorry about the wait. There was a bit of a… conflict. Downstairs, and I ended up having to sort it out.”

He walked over to the table pulling off his gloves and unwrapping his respirator from around his neck before sitting down across from Etho and folding his hands together. “So. You all actually came.”

“Did you expect us not to?” Beef asked, eyeing him warily, apparently not recognizing him.

“Of course not! A government official contacting you out of nowhere, asking you to come and meet them? The fact that you have enough faith in humanity to come here, despite everything, without knowing anything about why you’re being asked here… it’s amazing.” He grinned.

“Amazing is one word for it, sure.” Bdubs said, leaning forward in his chair. “But uh, who are you, and why exactly are we here?”

“If you’re going to try to kill us, we’ll give you a thirty second head start.” Doc added dryly. “But no more than that.”

The man chuckled. “We’re not trying to kill you, we’re trying to offer you a job.”

A job?

Before Doc could express his hesitation, the man continued, putting a hand to his chest:

“My name is Xisuma Void, Captain Void to most people, but you can call me X. I’m putting together a crew.”

“Like a boat crew?” Bdubs asked, brow furrowing slightly.

“A spaceship crew. I’ve been given a mission- go to uncharted territory, chart it, and start a colony on a planet outside the solar system.” He extended his hands in front of him, gesturing to the team. “I’d like you to come with me.”

For a moment, there was silence.

“…What’s the catch?” Etho asked slowly.

“Catch?” Xisuma asked.

“We’re not from here.” Etho said, and Beef chuckled. “There’s always a catch.”

Xisuma shook his head slowly. “I don’t think… well… how about I just tell you what the job would entail before we decide if there’s a catch or not?”

Doc looked across the table to the others. Bdubs nodded, Beef shrugged, and Etho set down the rubix cube for the first time since he had gotten into the room. X took that as permission to continue.

“Do you remember all those stories in the news about the government funneling money into a secret project?” X asked.

“And everybody was worried that it was gonna be another war.” Bdubs said. “We remember.”

“They were building a ship for this mission. It’s been in progress for years now, but they’ve ramped up construction in the past several months. The ship will be fully built in three months, and the mission will begin no sooner than six months from now.” Xisuma stood, either ignoring or not noticing the way that the rest of the group tensed when he moved, and began to pace up and down the length of the table. “The ship- the Refuge- will exit the solar system in about one and a half years, and then it’ll be four and a half to eight and a half years til we reach Haven.”

“Haven?” Doc interjected. “That’s the planet?”

X nodded.

���Bit on the nose, don’t you think?” Bdubs asked.

X shrugged, not pausing in his pacing. “I wasn’t the one that named it.”

“So what do you want us to do?” Beef asked. “None of us have ever been to space before. Sure, Etho may have been… built for it, but…”

“You don’t have to worry about the space stuff.” X said, stopping and leaning on the back of the chair he had been sitting in. “Just the landing part of the mission. The way that this is set up, there are two smaller groups within the crew as a whole- the ship crew and the colony crew. While the ship crew will transition into being a part of the colony crew once we land, the colony crew doesn’t have to be a part ship crew. It’s unnecessary, and most of the crew mates don’t have essential skills for the trip.”

“So what does the colony crew do during the flight?” Beef asked, his brow furrowed.

“Sleep.” X responded. “We have two cryogeneticists on the crew that will be maintaining and caring for frozen personnel and assets.”

“Which one would we be?” Doc asked.

X looked uncomfortable, as if he didn’t know whether the question was a joke or not. “Personnel… in total, if you decide to take me up on the offer, we’ll have nine people frozen out of a crew of thirty six. Most of the ship can be run mechanically, but we still need the ship crew to oversee everything.”

“And what would we be doing when we get planet-side? What’s our actual job going to be?” Bdubs asked.

“Building, scouting surrounding areas, neutralizing any potential threats, whatever needs to be done, really.” X sighed. “Unfortunately, since a mission like this has never been attempted before, I can’t tell you exactly what we’re going to need you to do. If you accept, I can give you the paperwork that runs through several potential scenarios, but… there’s a lot that we just don’t know.”

“I’m not going to ask you to sign on immediately, but I’d like your responses as soon as possible.” X concluded. “There’s a packet with the receptionist downstairs that has more information-“

“I’ll do it.” Bdubs said, cutting him off.

X blinked. “What?”

“I’ll do it.” He repeated, leaning back in his chair. “It sounds exciting, it’s a chance to travel somewhere without risking being carsick, it’s getting away from everything that’s going on here… and we’re probably not gonna get another chance at this for at least six years, right?”

X nodded.

“I can’t speak for the guys, obviously, but you’ve got one.”

“I’m in too.” Doc decided, taking his feet off the table and sitting up straight. “There’s not a whole hell of a lot for me to do here, not many people that want me here, and somebody’s gotta make sure you don’t get yourself killed.” He said, pointing a vaguel accusatory finger at Bdubs, who rolled his eyes. “I still want the packet, but I’m in.”

X grinned. “Wonderful! And… I suppose, do you want to make your decision now too?” He turned his attention to Beef and Etho.

“I’ll agree… but I reserve the right to change my mind if we start getting ready and things seem off.” Etho said, picking his rubix cube back up and spinning it on its corner. “I may have been made for space travel, but they kept me grounded for a reason.”

“I agree with Etho, minus the spaceman bit.” Beef said. “Also, can we have your phone number, or some way to contact you?”

Xisuma’s grin turned into a softer, warmer smile. “Everything that you’ll need is going to be in the packets. Welcome to the team, gentlemen.”

Computer: Input Command: Show Available Files:

> Open the Pilot’s File

> Open the Doctor’s File (New)

> Continue

[sapphicsandscience]

Whumptober Day 4 (yes i’m still doing these)

Trust Fall (“Do you trust me?”)

Kerry finds herself in need of help.

“No, she isn’t on today. Do you want me to see if anyone else is around?”

Susan tuned in and out of the conversation occurring next to her right ear. Checking the clock she sighed, it was only quarter past ten and she was already exhausted. The building group of people that were encasing the admit desk, exit and all, weren’t doing much to help her stressed mind. Neither was the apparent lack of staff this morning shift. She wondered if she had missed the memo that had said that they could all just clock off when they felt like it.

Though she was enjoying the absence of one individual. She and Kerry started at the same time this morning, yet only one of them had turned up. And Susan was looking forward to hearing her excuses for once and not the other way round.

An older man can up to the desk and demanded Susan’s attention.

“Excuse me, my wife had surgery to remove her gallstones yesterday afternoon can you tell me where I might find her?” He asked.

“Sir, this is the emergency department. Not a hospital reception. So unless you have an emergency please move along.” Susan replied as she started cherry-picking through the chart rack for something that interested her.

If she was going to be the only one actually doing her job, she was going to take the best cases.

“But my wife-”

Susan let out an exasperated sigh. “Sir, I assure you, your wife’s gallstones are not an emergency,” Susan said and sent Randi a glare. “Randi?”

“Hang on a sec,” Randi returned to her phone conversation. “When are you going to be in, Dr. Lewis is all agitated.” She said.

“I am not -” Susan began to argue before changing her direction. “Randi, can you round up that conversation in the next decade. All these people want things and I would like to actually be able to get out and see patients.”

Randi rolled her eyes back before standing up and passing the handset to Susan. “It’s Dr. Weaver.” She explained. “I don’t know what her problem is, sounds like she is in pain or something.”

Susan’s brows furrowed and she put the phone to her ear. “Kerry?”

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

The sudden knocking disturbed Kerry from her meditative ‘happy place’ she had been trying to reach and straight back to the world of searing pain. Opening an eye, she looked towards her apartment door and realized the sound was coming from there.

This is all I need.

Praying that it was just a delivery person (despite the fact that there was nothing to be delivered) and specifically not someone from work, Kerry rolled her head back against the kitchen counter and closed her eye. Her wishful thinking was crushed when she heard a family husky voice on the other side of the door.

“Kerry it’s Susan. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” She yelled back with gritted teeth.

“Well, you didn’t sound okay on the phone.”

“Well, I told you not to come.”

“Let me in.”

“I can’t,” Kerry replied.

It wasn’t a lie. She physically could not come and let Susan in even if she wanted to. Which was the whole reason she had even entertained calling County this morning with the hope that Jeanie would be around. It was just her luck, she thought, that Jeanie wasn’t available and she sure as hell wasn’t going to ask for help from anyone else there.

There was no one else at work that she was remotely close with. Even worse, she had no one outside of work to call either.

So she decided to remain on the kitchen floor for the time being. At least until she felt like she could trust her leg enough to move. She’d made some, albeit very painful, progress and managed to crawl her way to the kitchen cabinet and sit up awkwardly against it. A little while later, she found the strength to reach up for the phone that sat on the counter. But both activities had left her withering in pain and seriously starting to worry that she had done more damage than originally thought.

The sound of a key clicking followed by a door handle being turned sent Kerry’s eyes flying open. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since Susan had last yelled out anything, but it didn’t seem long enough for her to work out a way to break into her apartment.

“Oh my god, what happened?”

Kerry immediately tried to pull herself up as Susan came into view. Though all she achieved was making herself feel more embarrassed after she cried out in agony and sunk back down flustered.

“What did you do?” She crouched down concerned.

“Nothing. I just slipped.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing.” Susan moved in closer, ready to examine her neck but Kerry flinched away. “Did you hit your head, let me call an ambulance.” She went to pick up the phone that was discarded on the kitchen tiles.

Kerry shot her arm out. “No, don’t! I said I’m fine.”

“Kerry, don’t be stupid, you need to be checked out.”

“It’s just my hip. I know how to deal with it.”

“Your hip,” Susan repeated slowly, obviously putting together the pieces. “Ummm, do you think it’s dislocated or something?” She steered around the topic.

“No, no...like I said I am used to it, I just need to rest her for a bit and I’ll be fine.”

“Rest? On your kitchen floor?” Susan said unconvinced and shook her head. “Look I am going to call someone you can’t stay down here all day.”

“Susan please,” Kerry said, sounding more pleading than she wanted to. After a few seconds, she let out a sigh of defeat and continued. “Just...just help me get up and maybe into my bedroom. I’ll be fine then. And there is some Percocet in my draw.”

She was going to have to accept some type of help. This would be a good compromise, no matter how vulnerable and exposed it made her feel. And in front of Susan of all people.

“Are you sure?” Susan relaxed her shoulders, dropping her defiant stance.

“Yes.”

Susan nodded as she came up with a game plan.

“Okay, if we are going to do this you’ve got to trust me. Don’t try and do it all yourself or you’ll do more damage. Let me do all the work.” She moved closer towards Kerry’s side, ready to support her up and off the floor.

Kerry felt her skin tingle as Susan’s hand came to support her waist on a bare patch on the skin where her shirt had ridden up slightly. The combination of pain and the butterflies that had started in her stomach and were currently working their way downwards was unusually intoxicating and she could barely focus on what Susan was saying. Heat rose into her cheeks and Kerry was internally grateful that it could be passed off as her physical discomfort and not what she was experiencing right now.

Could this day get any more awkward?

She moved her head side and side, trying to shake out these feelings that had accosted her without permission. Though when she opened her eyes again, she found herself staring straight into Susan’s light eyes. Her face was so close she could feel the air that left her lips against her skin as she spoke.

“Kerry? Do you trust me?”

"Yes.”

[prettywordsyouleft]

MonX Hospital | Minhyuk

Pairing: Lee Minhyuk x reader

Genre: orderly – hospital au / strangers to lovers / angst-fluff

Warnings: medical terms and illness

Word count: 3778

Index: Shownu | Wonho | Minhyuk | Kihyun | Hyungwon | Jooheon | Changkyun

“Who ordered a ride?”

The pale child lying within his bed turned, perking up and smiled at Minhyuk’s arrival. “It’s you!”

“Why, who else would be able to make the best hospital bed turns than me?” Leaning down to pat the child’s head affectionately, Minhyuk then smiled at the nurse waiting for his arrival. “I hear we’re off for a scan!”

“Will it be scary?” the child asked whilst Minhyuk took the brakes off the bed. Stopping for a moment, he shook his head. “Ever wanted to fly up into space?”

“Like in a rocket?”

“Yeah, just like that. Close your eyes and imagine you’re flying right up and past Jupiter! That’s a long way to go, isn’t it?!”

“Will I get to see Pluto?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Minhyuk answered, pretending to ponder his thoughts. “Will you tell me if you do?”

“I will!”

“Then let’s get going!” Minhyuk exclaimed, shooting a wink at the grateful nurse who fare-welled him and the patient off.

Minhyuk enjoyed his job as an orderly at MonX Hospital. A lot of people aimed to become a doctor or nurse to help the sick but there were a whole lot of roles that a hospital needed people for. Cooking and cleaning employed just as many staff as doctors and nurses, and lab technicians supported findings that doctors weren’t trained to process themselves. There were countless maintenance teams, receptionists and administrators who filled in all the paperwork and kept the place running efficiently.

No one seemed to think of the orderlies though. The role had challenges with being time-dependent and efficient with knowing where to transport a patient to. They were a fundamental part of a well-planned surgery timetable, getting patients there in time for the doctors to heal the sick, and taking them to appointments so the nurses could continue to look after the other patients in the ward. It was important to Minhyuk to not only do all the above but make the experience of being in a hospital a little brighter.

It was far easier with children and older women, admittedly.

“You remind me of my first love,” a frail elderly lady exclaimed as Minhyuk wheeled her towards her scheduled hip replacement surgery.

Shooting the woman a surprised look, Minhyuk then chuckled. “Really? Someone as handsome as me existed before now?”

“Oooh, you’re trouble!” she giggled, swatting him away gently. “You’re definitely just like him.”

“Did you marry him?”

“Oh no, he chose the prettiest girl on the block over me.”

“He was blind then because you, Nancy, are too fetching to have not married!”

“Are you married, young man?”

“No ma’am. I’m looking for my Nancy.”

“Honestly!” she breathed out accompanying another giggle and Minhyuk grinned. She then grew serious. “I think you’ll meet her soon.”

“You think so? Oh good, I don’t want to be single for much longer,” he mused and the older woman nodded. His humour eased. “What makes you think I will?”

“I don’t know, it’s just a feeling I’ll get.”

“Well, I thank you for feeling something about me, Mrs Rhodes. Afraid we’ve arrived at our destination, however.”

“That was quick, I didn’t even have time to worry on the way here.”

“It’s my job to make sure you don’t get a chance to! Now you go in there and knock their socks off! You’ll be back to walking again in no time after they’re done with you.”

“This hospital needs more people like you,” she called as he waved her off, clapping the shoulder of one of the surgeons he passed in the process.

Sewoon stopped him. “Oh Minhyuk, we’re missing a patient that’s surgery was scheduled for this morning. I’ve dispatched for another orderly to get her but-”

“I can go get her. Ward and name?”

“Y/N?” he called when he entered the room a few minutes later, catching his breath from rushing here from the surgery department. You looked up at him anxiously and Minhyuk’s growing smile halted.

Wow, you were beautiful.

Gathering himself together enough to walk over to your bed, Minhyuk managed a smile. “I’m your chauffeur for the morning. Shall we get going?”

“Chauffeur?” you repeated and let out a small laugh. “That’s cute.”

“Well someone as special as you should be transported in style.”

“I bet you use that line with all the girls.”

“Would you hate me if I did?” he confessed and you grinned at him as he unlatched the brakes on your bed. “Ready, my Lady?”

“Oh yes, going to have surgery sounds thrilling.”

“It’s a necessary part of your journey here, I’m sure.”

“Have you ever been in my place before?”

Minhyuk nodded. “When I was ten, I broke my leg and needed surgery. I remember being petrified that I wouldn’t wake up and get to play on my bike again.”

“You broke your leg on your bike?”

Minhyuk nodded. “My orderly told me not to be scared, that he would be there for me when I woke up.”

“Was he?” you asked quietly, your eyes widening at the prospect.

Minhyuk watched your expression morph into hope and he nodded again. “He was. I mean, I had thought he just stood there the whole time whilst the doctors fixed my leg, granted. But he was definitely there when I woke up again. And he even had a toy bike for me.”

“I’m not broken like that though,” you murmured and Minhyuk glanced down at your chart briefly before nodding.

“You’re here to be healed. So you’re not not broken either.”

“I guess when you put it like that,” you started, sending Minhyuk a genuine smile soon after. “Is it silly of me as an adult to want you-”

“I’ll be there when you wake up,” he assured and your smile grew, tears welling in your eyes. “Do you want a toy bike as well?”

You laughed. “What’s your name? Minhyuk?”

“That’s me!” he replied, letting you read his name tag more closely. “I’ll make sure I’m here as soon as your eyes open, alright?”

Nodding softly, you didn’t take your gaze off of his as he wheeled you into the surgery ward, watching him as he got your bed situated into your cubicle and handed your notes to the waiting nurse. Before leaving, Minhyuk felt compelled to go up to your side and you suddenly clutched at his hand, taking a deep breath.

“You promise?”

“Just you wait, when you open your eyes next, you’ll be disappointed that the first thing you see is me.”

When you did eventually come around in the recovery room, Minhyuk perked from the seat he was in. He had swapped his lunch break with another employee so he could make it when your surgery was over, grateful that he could keep his promise as expected.

You, however, were more than surprised to find he had followed through.

“Min…Min…”

“Don’t stress yourself to talk,” he urged with a gentle smile, alerting the nearest nurse that you had woken up.

As he checked your vital stats, he then smiled at you. “Miss L/N, you’re a lucky one huh? It’s not every day I see Minhyuk sitting here waiting for a patient to wake up.”

“I made a promise, I wasn’t going to break it,” he told the nurse and you smiled, reaching out for his hand.

Minhyuk held it towards you and then moved his other, shaking a little teddy bear in his grip. Your smile grew.

“I know it’s no bike, they didn’t have any in the gift shop,” he humoured and you tried to laugh, accepting the water the nurse offered you before swallowing with some effort. Blinking against the exhaustion wave that he could tell was washing over you, Minhyuk handed you the teddy and then squeezed your hand that was still holding his. “Rest well, my Lady. When it’s time, I’ll take you back to your room.”

Twenty minutes later, he wheeled you in to your room quietly, smiling as you continued to sleep peacefully. He didn’t know what it was about you, but he watched you a moment more before going back out into the ward’s hallway and slid the door closed.

Another nurse he was familiar with from crossing paths regularly stopped him in his departure. “Oh Miss L/N is back from surgery?”

“Yeah, she’s resting right now. The team up in recovery said she’s going to be really tired for the next forty-eight hours.”

“It was a big operation for her,” Lucy mentioned and Minhyuk nodded. “It’s a shame she’s here all alone.”

“Alone? No family?”

“Not that I’m aware of. She has no one down as her next of kin either.”

Glancing back at the door, now it made sense to him why you wanted his company when you woke up. No one should have to go through this alone.

“I’ll be back later to check on her, Luce.”

“You and that sweet heart of yours.”

“What can I say? I’m in the right place to have my heartstrings pulled, right?” he called over his shoulder with a smile before turning for the exit, letting his smile drop with the slump of his shoulders.

You were definitely pulling something within him.

Minhyuk was anxious to arrive for his next shift. He had twenty minutes before he was rostered to start, and knowing Wednesdays always seemed to be the busiest of days, he headed straight for your ward, greeting people along the way before knocking on your door.

You were sitting up in your bed this morning, attempting to eat the breakfast you had just been served. Upon seeing Minhyuk, you put down your spoon and smiled. “It wasn’t a dream.”

“I don’t think I’m that talented to step into the dream realm but you never know,” he answered with a chuckle and grinned when he saw the plush toy he had given you was sitting up in bed next to you as well. “How are we doing?”

“I feel as if a truck ran over me, reversed, and did it one more time.”

“Specific,” he commented and then stepped closer. “Did you get the licence plate? I’ll go report them for troubling you this much.”

“Are all the orderlies like you?”

“I would like to paint our service as one of the best in the hospital, but I can’t speak for all of us. Old Gary doesn’t talk and Pamela doesn’t know when to shut up.”

You laughed a little and then winced with the pain from doing so. Stepping forward and offering you a drink of water, you thanked Minhyuk silently and then sighed when you recovered.

“Part of me like this, you know?”

“The hands-free drink service?” You rolled your eyes playfully. “I didn’t need to come to hospital to get this type of attention though, admittedly.”

“Well, we can’t change that now. But I can continue to stop by if you like it.”

“Why? Is it part of the service?”

“I don’t do it for everyone,” he admitted and your growing smile got stuck. “But if you’d like it-”

“Why are you so considerate towards me?”

“I’m not exactly sure. I just feel this need to be around you.”

“Do you pity me? My prognosis isn’t great, even with surgery.”

“It’s not hopeless either. And no, I don’t pity you at all.”

“Then?”

“Maybe I met my Nancy after all,” he murmured and you frowned at the statement. Minhyuk smiled brightly and pointed to your breakfast. “Nothing worse than super soggy cornflakes. You best get on with your breakfast and I need to go bring smiles to the patients I cross paths with.”

“You’re magical, you know that, Minhyuk.”

“I don’t know about that, but I’m glad you think highly of me. Rest well, okay?”

“Will you visit me again?”

Minhyuk hesitated at the door he was departing through and turned back to you with a smile. “Of course, I can’t let you go without a bit of my magic, as you said.”

Minhyuk kept his word, ending his long shift by spending an extra hour with you.

And the following day, he greeted you before his shift and even joined you for lunch. By the end of the week, you were expectant of his arrival and seemed to brighten whenever he stepped through the door.

So was he. Even though he knew you were unwell, he found comfort in your company. Despite spending all his time around people day in and out, Minhyuk hadn’t realised how lonely he felt under it all.

You seemed to bring a lot of emotions to the surface within him.

“If you could be anything but an orderly, what would you do?”

“No,” he responded, handing you another hot chip from the food he had snuck in so he could share dinner with you. “This is it for me.”

“Really?”

“Do you look down on my profession choice, Y/N?”

You shook your head and hands at the same time. “No, I find it admirable that you’re so certain. Before being in here I was at a crossroads. I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. My degree had led to a career I didn’t enjoy and I didn’t want to go back to school for another four years to find I wasn’t happy with the next choice either.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Be around people,” you answered immediately, cheeks flushed. You then laughed. “But that could be anything!”

“What kind of people do you want to be around?”

“Grateful people. Those who smile and are happy for my assistance.”

“Well, retail is out,” he teased and you laughed in agreement. “Jokes aside, I think no matter where we go, there will always be people who take our service but don’t want to interact. I mean, even today, I tried to brighten up a middle-aged man and he told me to shut up and just wheel him to Orthopaedics in silence.”

“Well, that’s rude.”

“I guess I wasn’t his type,” Minhyuk said, pretending to curl his hair behind his ear.

“Oh my goodness, stop trying to flirt with all the patients!”

“If a bit of friendly banter brings a smile to their faces and eases their concerns, is it so bad? This place can easily turn dreary, even for the workers. I just want to help people feel a snippet of happiness within these walls.”

You didn’t respond, gaze intensely connected to his. You began to sink deeper into his eyes now entranced by you, struggling to remain coherent against the waves of what you were experiencing. Minhyuk was equally fighting against the current, his mouth falling ajar a little when he felt his heart begin to beat differently.

“Lee Minhyuk, I ought to have known!”

Jumping out of the trance with the new voice within the room, he glanced back at your nurse, Lucy’s hands on her hips as she looked over the takeout he had brought into the room with him.

“It’s my dinner, not Y/N’s.”

“You’re going to eat both those burgers and drink both those sodas?” Lucy questioned and Minhyuk grinned shamelessly.

“When a guy’s hungry he’s gotta eat.”

“I begged him to, Lucy. Please, just this once.” The nurse sighed at your hopeful stare and nodded. You grinned. “I’m blessed to have you both, you know.”

“You’re lucky we’re fools,” Lucy replied, shaking her head in Minhyuk’s direction. “This one is the biggest fool I know.”

“I take that title with pride.”

“Don’t let Nurse Joy find you both in here like this. She won’t be as lenient.”

“Nurse Joy is a contradiction. She’s not joyful at all,” you pointed out and both the professionals attempted to hold their tongues in response.

When Lucy shut the door after stealing a couple of fries for herself, you opened up the wrapper to your burger before looking back at Minhyuk.

“What?”

“Do you think I could become an orderly?”

“When you’re stronger, I don’t see why not.”

“You didn’t dismiss the idea,” you mumbled with surprised and Minhyuk narrowed his gaze on your face. You smiled weakly. “Just, in the past, that’s all they did.”

“Who?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Taking a bite of your burger, you then grinned. “This is so good!”

Minhyuk realised you had faced a whole lot more adversity than the condition that had brought you in front of him in the first place.

Over the next couple of weeks, you went up and down in health. There were moments where you had no energy to even smile at him, and others where all you did was hold his hand and laugh. You had exchanged numbers and in between patients he would continue conversation with you, making you laugh and then discussing the deepest concepts of the world in the next text. You enlightened him and made the exhaustion of each shift wash away when he visited you until visiting hours were up. He hadn’t even realised how involved he had become with you in his everyday life until he arrived at your room before work to find it completely void of all sign of you.

“Where is Y/N?” he asked and the nurse on the counter gave him a sad smile.

“She got moved to ICU overnight. She’s-”

He didn’t wait to hear the rest of it, rushing through the hospital maze until he reached the department he needed, sucking in a deep breath before entering it. The nurse here shook her head. “I’m sorry, she can’t have visitors.”

“I know, I know,” he repeated, all too aware of the rules and regulations of this department. However, he held up his index finger desperately. “Just a minute. Please, just let me see her before I go start my shift.”

Glancing at the fellow nurse beside her, she sighed and nodded quickly. Minhyuk thanked her before rushing around the counter to the cubicle she pointed at. There you laid, looking as pallid as the sheets beneath you. It didn’t suit you to be this deathly white and yet even then you were beautiful to him. Stepping closer to your sleeping form, he felt tears rise behind his eyes when he saw the teddy he got you held tightly within your hand. Shakily reaching out for you, he gave your wrist a gentle squeeze.

“You can fight through this, Y/N. I know you can.”

Minhyuk’s mood throughout his shift was subdued. He couldn’t quite bring himself to ease the concerns of a little girl going for an MRI as well as he usually did and he was late to pick up his next two patients, his feet dragging unintentionally.

He just felt completely drained.

“There’s my handsome first love,” the elderly woman within the wheelchair waiting for him exclaimed and Minhyuk looked at Nancy and smiled gently.

“Nancy, you’re looking better than ever.”

“Of course, it’s my discharge day.”

“Does this mean I get the honour of wheeling you out the front doors?” he asked and the woman nodded. “Wow, lucky me.”

“Dear, you look anything but lucky right now, what’s wrong?”

Minhyuk didn’t know why he told her about you. As he wheeled the woman slowly to the exit, he spoke as quickly as he could about his time with you thus far. And now with you in ICU, he couldn’t hold back the tears of realisation.

Nancy smiled and cupped his hands within hers when he stopped her outside the doors. “You’re in love.”

“I don’t want to lose it so soon.”

“You won’t, she’s going to come through,” she reassured him and Minhyuk blinked through his tears to look questioningly at the woman. Nancy nodded gently. “She has to. You’re waiting for her. Just as you promised to be there when she woke up, you will be there again. She won’t leave you, Minhyuk.”

He held onto Nancy’s hope for another week, finding it harder each day that went by without much improvement. After thirteen days of what seemed like a perpetual slumber, Minhyuk felt your hand twitch within his grasp. Glancing up, he was met with your eyes staring at him.

“You came back to me,” he murmured, tears running down his cheeks.

“You promised me you would teach me how to ride a bike,” you whispered hoarsely and he laughed, nodding repeatedly.

He would do anything to keep you at his side now.

“Minhyuk!”

Turning to follow the voice that called him out, he grinned when he found you standing there, wearing the same uniform as he did. Circling you to inspect your appearance, Minhyuk then folded his arms over his chest. “Not bad, Miss Orderly.”

“Miss Orderly in training,” you corrected, though you were brimming with anticipation.

“Well, I’m sure some lucky guy will get to teach you all he knows.”

You shrugged. “I don’t know if I want to learn from him.”

“What? Why not?”

“He flirts with the patients and not with his girlfriend nearly as much.”

Minhyuk looked around you both before leaning in and stealing a chaste kiss. “The good news is he doesn’t go around kissing anyone but his girlfriend though.”

“Maybe I’ll learn to flirt with the male patients. It might make them smile.”

“Don’t even dream of it!” he refuted and you laughed heartily. Slinging an arm over your shoulders, Minhyuk walked you towards the staff room. “How did you get here?”

“I rode my bike.”

“I told you I would take you by car.”

“I wanted to start my first day off on the right foot. I mean, I didn’t heal and get to this point in my life just to be chauffeured around by you like I once was.”

“Touché.”

“Though, maybe we could go home together?”

“We should since we live together,” he agreed, pressing his lips to the side of your head again.

“Don’t! Word travels too easily and I don’t want my first day to be plagued with rumours.”

“Everyone in this hospital will know by the end of the day that you’re my miracle.”

“Lucy was right, you are the biggest fool.”

Minhyuk laughed and nodded again. “That I might be, but it was this fool who got you out of this hospital, remember.”

“Only to bring me back into it,” you feigned disappointment and then grinned all too easily after. “You don’t think working and living together will be too much for us?”

“Even if it is, are you up for the challenge?” he proposed, stopping in front of the Orderly Services department.

You glanced up at it and then walked through the door, dragging him in behind you. “You better teach me to be the best.”

_________________

Next: Kihyun

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[ellewritesathing]

Faking It - Epilogue

Summary: You’d done plenty of dumb things in your life, but the dumbest had to be picking Greendale’s latest bad-boy to pretend to be your boyfriend.

Masterlist Part 6 | Epilogue

Word-count: 2.3k+

A/N: okay so about a million years ago @corishirogane3​ sent me the cutest headcanon for this series and i had to make it canon. i’ve rewritten the ending so much that i’m not sure how i feel about it anymore but!! i wanted to post this sugary sweet ending after my finals so 💕💕 i hope you guys like it

Caliban hated birthdays. His mother would always try her hardest to make each year better than the last, with more outrageous parties in the hopes that he would forget he was a bastard whose father cared more about his reputation than his son. It never worked. 

Kinkle: Happy Bday man! You’re still an asshole but I’m glad we’re friends again

As if his childhood confusion wasn’t hard enough, Caliban’s teenage angst almost burned everything to the ground. He was angry at his family for abandoning him and his mother, at the people around him for being conceited and boring, and at California for being too goddamn sunny. 

Theo: happy birthday to my gay awakening 💕

Birthdays made Caliban infinitely aware of his precarious loneliness in the world. He’d stopped telling people when his birthday was long ago, but somehow they’d find out and ruin his plans to spend the day alone and screaming at the sky. Year after year, it was just the same hollow wishes from people who didn’t really care about him.

Rosalind ��: happy birthday old man. i got you a haunted portrait so you don’t wrinkle 

But this year was different. Caliban still wasn’t sold on the perfect greeting card birthday, but he’d been less angry since moving back to Greendale. Dating you - real or not - meant he got a group of friends as part of the deal, and the lot of you had extorted his birthday to draw up his astral chart. Apparently, he was an Aries sun, Capricorn moon - whatever the fuck that meant.

Sabrina: Happy Birthday Cal 💞

Still, Caliban could move across the country and collect as many friends as he liked, but he wasn’t sure if he’d ever enjoy his birthday. 

With a sigh, Caliban threw off his covers and padded across to his closet. He pulled out his usual dark clothes and scrounged around for his leather jacket before realizing he’d loaned it to you. He smiled to himself and set to make himself presentable. 

This first hour of his birthday was always spent alone. It was one of the many birthday traditions he and Isobel shared, along with birthday pancakes, ditching the last half of school, and triple chocolate cake with Sour Patch Kids stuck to the icing. He was thankful for all the things his mother did for him, but that first dose of silence and solitude was crucial if he was going to deal with all the birthday bullshit that lay ahead.

Caliban’s phone dinged with yet another notification and he stopped in the middle of the hallway to dig his phone out of his pants pocket. Sure, Caliban talked a big game about hating birthdays but he still checked every text he got, hoping for ... something. 

Fitch: Happy non-birthday to the best not fake boyfriend I’ve ever had ❤️ I love you and I’ll see you soon

He always read the texts, but he almost never responded. He leaned against one of the door frames and started typing something in the way of a reply. The only problem was that Caliban was only gifted in the way of words when he was lying, and he never wanted to lie to you. Caliban sighed and locked his phone without sending anything. He’d figure out what to say once his stomach was full of pancakes.

Expecting to come downstairs to the low hum of Isobel singing along to music, the smells of cinnamon, sugar, and melted chocolate, and one very messy kitchen, Caliban was surprised when he reached the bottom stair and heard your voice. Everything else was as expected, but you stood out among all the chaos.

“Is this okay?” you asked quietly. 

Isobel stopped her humming for a second. “Oh, yeah! That’s perfect, sweetheart.”

The pancake batter sizzled in the pan and Caliban decided to brave the kitchen. It was still as messy as always, but there you stood, clad in a borrowed, sunflowered apron and brandishing a spatula. 

Since you and Isobel were whispering and watching the pancakes rise with your back turned to the entrance, Caliban walked over as quietly as he could and got a better look at the assortment of toppings on the counter. He'd just bitten into one of the strawberries when you turned to grab something off the counter. 

You jumped sky-high and Caliban laughed. “Jesus. How long have you been there?” you asked.

“Long enough.” Caliban tried to sound nonchalant, which was difficult to do with all his curiosity. His cool facade was also ruined by Isobel rushing around the island to hug him and kiss his cheeks. 

Isobel settled slightly after sitting Caliban down on one of the stools and promising to be right back with his present. 

With your new-found solitude, Caliban turned to with an amused smile. “When you said you’d see me soon, I didn’t think you meant quite so soon,” he said. He reached for another strawberry. 

You were happy to have caught him off-guard. “That’s kind of the point of a surprise.” You turned back to the stove to keep the pancake from burning but looked over your shoulder to add, “I mean, I can leave if it’s a problem?”

“You would deprive me of your company on my birthday?” 

You set a plate in front of Caliban that had a single, oddly shaped chocolate-chip pancake. “I'd never dream of it, Abercrombie.” You took a step back, pulled out a knife and fork, and set it in front of him. “Tell me how it tastes?” 

Caliban cut a piece and held his fork out to you. 

“No way. That’s your birthday pancake.” 

“You would really make me beg on my birthday?” 

“You can’t play that card the whole day-” 

“Yes, I can. Because it’s my-” 

“Don’t say it-”

The word was on the tip of his tongue, but Caliban didn’t get the chance to play his birthday card another time because Isobel rushed back into the room holding a wrapped present and grinning wildly. 

Isobel set the present down on the stool next to Caliban and tapped the top. “I know you don’t like opening them in front of anyone, but I couldn’t wait.” She tapped the gift again before reaching out and squeezing his hand. “Happy birthday, my love.” 

“Thanks, Mom,” Caliban said in a low voice. Isobel gave him the sad smile she always did on his birthday and he gave her the matching smile he always did. 

Your voice broke both of them out of their birthday stupor. “Well, I’ve got to get going or I’ll be late.” You untied the knot behind your back as you spoke before lifting the apron over your head. “I just wanted to stop by to steal a few legendary birthday pancakes and drop off the scavenger hunt stuff.” 

“I’m sorry, would you repeat that?” Caliban asked, sounding as saintly as he could. 

Isobel laughed. “Your brilliant girlfriend figured out how to give you a special birthday while letting you spend the whole day by yourself.” She wrapped an arm around Caliban’s shoulders and looked over at you. “There are clues and activities all over town and you can only come back once you’ve finished them all.” 

As intriguing as a day spent on his own seemed, Caliban couldn’t help but feel like there was a catch coming. “And what about my daily need for education?” 

“I thought you were a fan of more alternate education,” you teased. You leaned over and ate another bite of pancake. “Don’t tell me you’re going soft in your old age.” 

Caliban gave a short laugh. “I said no such thing.” 

You smiled. “Your mom promised to give you the first clue after your first pancake stack. I’ll see you later, okay?” 

Caliban nodded, suddenly unsure of how to respond. He was bad at receiving gifts at the best of times, and this gift was personal and bestowed upon him in front of his mother. It was an awkward set of circumstances. “Thank you,” he said softly as he hugged you goodbye. 

“Of course.” You kissed his cheek and disappeared out of the kitchen after waving goodbye to Isobel. 

Once you were gone and Caliban was left with the familiar sounds and smells of the morning of his birthday, he began to think that maybe his opinion on birthdays needed a bit of changing. 

--- 

Though he’d only participated in a few scavenger hunts, Caliban was competitive and he was relentless. He tore through clue after clue in the same ravenous fashion that a pack of wolves would their next meal, though he tried to savor it as best his hunger would allow. Every handwritten clue was kept, every souvenir pocketed, and every moment memorized. He didn’t want to waste the most thoughtful gift he’d ever been given just because he was an impatient bastard. 

But, as he stared at his suspiciously dark house, he wondered if he should have taken it a bit slower. The last clue had hinted at something waiting for him at the house, and his desire to finish the scavenger hunt waged war on his hatred of birthday parties. He was just about to put the car in reverse and dart into the street when your head popped around a curtain. You ducked inside at such a speed when your eyes met his that Caliban laughed at the mental image of you crashing into a lamp and trying to play it off. 

In the end, neither his desire nor hatred lured him into the depths of his birthday party. His bizarre inclination to do anything and everything you wanted drew him in.

So, Caliban showed up at his party. He wore a party hat, played nice with the other kids, and blew out the candles on his cake. All in all, it should have been the perfect end to his perfect day. But even with all your careful planning, there was no accounting for the bullshit hole in Caliban’s chest that always left him feeling empty. 

When the hole in his chest got too big, Caliban sneaked up the stairs, ducked into his room, and slipped out the window. He wasn’t running away - though the thought did cross his mind - but he just needed some fresh air. Harvey’s laughter mingled with that of his other friends and the laugh tracks of bad movies, drifting through the open window to the warmth of the April night. Still, there wasn’t enough fresh air in the world to fix him. 

“Hey!” 

Caliban twisted around to see you popping your head out of his bedroom window. You had a silly grin on your face and your hair was falling all over your face. The hole in Caliban’s chest got a little smaller. Your smile softened as you tilted your head to mirror his. 

“Hey, you wanna get out of here?” 

“Aren’t you worried about missing the party?” Caliban asked. 

You shrugged. “Roz and Theo ate all the good snacks so it’s pretty lame anyway.” Caliban laughed and you flashed him another smile. “Come on, Abercrombie, you really gonna make me climb on the roof to come get you?”

Caliban let out a long whistle and adjusted to get a better look at you. “I’d like to see you try, but careful - it’s slippery out here.” 

“Stop being an asshole and let’s get out of here before someone notices we’re gone.” 

Grinning, Caliban rolled over and held a hand out to you. There was no need to be so secretive, really, but sneaking down his mother’s carefully cultivated trellis was half the fun. Caliban squashed some hydrangeas on the way down, you tumbled into him after getting your foot stuck, and the two of you were left breathless for a moment before rushing to the car so no one would discover your attempted prison break.

Giddy as you turned onto the freeway, the two of you laughed with the windows down and music blaring. Caliban didn’t think his birthday could get any better than it already was, but that moment with you was his favorite part. Or at least, it was until you started complaining about wasting away and you pulled into a diner for something to eat - then he found a new favorite moment. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Like what?” 

“You know what.” You tilted your head. “Is this because of the fry thing? I’m telling you, if you just try it then you’ll like it.”

Caliban laughed and shook his head at ‘the fry thing,’ also known as your insistence to dip your fries in whatever milkshake you had on the day. “I’m not trying it.”

“You’re a coward.”

“You can’t say that to me. It’s my birthday.” 

“You hate birthdays.” 

“Still.” 

Rolling your eyes, you pushed the plate of fries over to him. “Try it once, okay? And you’ll see it’s the perfect combination of salty and sweet, hot and cold, yummy and delicious.” 

Caliban couldn’t help it. He’d been putting it off for almost a year now, and it just didn’t feel right to say no to you after everything you’d done for him today. Plus, you were cute when you got your way. So, he reached out and dipped a fry in the milkshake. 

Annoyingly, it was everything you’d said and more. Despite the sugary, fried high he was bound to be on in a few minutes, Caliban knew the best part of this whole endeavor would be to see your sickeningly smug face when he admitted defeat. 

You’d turned him into a cheesy cliche. He was disgustingly romantic, he carried your books between classes, and had your coffee order memorized. Because you were the sweet to his salty, the brave to his reckless, the Fitch to his Abercrombie. 

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

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[hale-13]

Ulcerated

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 8 - Force Feeding

It’s only been a week since Tony last saw the kid but the weight he’s lost is clear in the way his shirt is just a little baggier than normal, the paleness of his face, the gauntness of his cheeks and Tony has to hold in his sympathetic wince. May Parker was never one to exaggerate but Tony had kind of been hoping that she was this time.

Words: 2720, Chapters: 1/1 (Completed), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & May Parker

Characters: Peter Parker, May Parker, Tony Stark, Helen Cho

TW: Vomiting, Medical Procedures

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

It’s only been a week since Tony last saw the kid but the weight he’s lost is clear in the way his shirt is just a little baggier than normal, the paleness of his face, the gauntness of his cheeks and Tony has to hold in his sympathetic wince. May Parker was never one to exaggerate but Tony had kind of been hoping that she was this time.

“Hey Pete,” he says, trying to keep his tone light and his voice gentle, Peter looks like he’s one stiff breeze from passing out or crying – it’s a toss up – and Tony doesn’t want to find out which is more likely. Peter raises one hand just above waist level in a half-assed wave and Tony bites the inside of his cheek sharply. “May said you’d been feeling pretty crummy kiddo.”

Peter shrugs and hums noncommittally, eyes a little unfocused from, what Tony guesses is, low blood sugar. He purses his lips and weighs his options before crossing the room to pull Peter into a careful hug. Peter goes nearly boneless in his arms but doesn’t raise his own to return the embrace which worries Tony even more; Peter is more tactile than just about anyone Tony’s ever met and is always eager for any physical affection. His stomach turns and he looks up to make eye contact with May where she’s wringing her hands in stress and looking guilty in her navy scrubs.

“Thanks for this Tony,” she says, approaching them and running her fingers through the rat’s nest of Peter’s curls. He’s still leaning up against Tony either for emotional or physical support, he’s not sure which. “I was worried about leaving him alone.”

“It’s no problem at all,” he assured and it wasn’t. When May had first called him about Peter’s supposed stomach flu earlier in the week he had sent all of the kid’s medical information to Cho who had told them, based on his symptoms and history, that they just needed to fill him up with as many fluids as possible and start a bland diet. They couldn’t afford not to with Peter’s wicked fast metabolism. May had taken most of the week off work to cram electrolytes and soup down Peter’s throat but her PTO had run out and she was on shift for the next three days. When she had called Tony for their daily update he had insisted that Peter come stay with him in the Tower – the penthouse a convenient few floors above the MedBay if they needed it.

“Okay Petey,” May said, pulling Peter into her own arms to fold him into a soft hug that Peter at least attempted to return. “You get some rest and try to eat something for Tony okay? I’ll call you in the morning when I get home but I’ll have my phone on if you need me and the hospital can always page me if I’m not able to answer okay?”

“Sure,” Peter rasped and Tony winced at how rough his voice sounded but, he supposed, non-stop vomiting for the majority of the week would do that to you.

“Alright,” May said, looking torn and a little devastated and Tony empathized. Peter was the closest thing he had to a son and he couldn’t imagine leaving him like this now that they were together. She made eye contact with him and Tony could read the clear ‘you’re going to have to take him from me or I won’t let go’ expression on her face and pulled Peter gently back to him.

“I’ve got him May,” Tony promised. “The chefs at the Tower have prepared a ton of bland foods for us to try and Cho’s on call if we need her. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“I know,” she said, eyes a little damp. She cleared her throat and pressed her lips to Peter’s forehead. “I love you Pete.”

“Love you too,” Peter mumbled back and Tony slipped his arm a little lower down the kid’s back to support him when he swayed a little unsteadily, dazed. He needed to get Peter off his feet fast before he passed out. They rode down the janky elevator together but went their separate ways at the curb – May toward the subway and Tony maneuvering Peter to lay half in his lap in the back seat of the town car Happy had been idling in the fire lane in front of the apartment.

“Step on it Hap,” Tony said once he had Peter settled, ignoring the concerned look his friend was giving them both in the rear view mirror. “Make it a smooth ride yeah?”

“No problem Boss,” Happy promised, pulling away from the curb with the utmost care and merging them into the Queens traffic.

——————————————

“I know you don’t want to,” Tony began, apologetic as he nearly shoved a bite of unsalted, unbuttered white rice into Peter’s unwilling mouth, trying not to feel overly guilty about the look of pure betrayal on Peter’s face. “But you’ve already lost over eight pounds and its hard enough to keep up with your metabolism as it is. I know you don’t want to end up in the MedBay.”

Peter sighed around the mouthful of rice but chewed it and swallowed it, begrudgingly accepting the next bite Tony forced into his mouth. They got through about half the bowl before Peter abruptly turned pale and then green, barely managing to grab the empty bucket Tony had placed next to him, vomiting up a mixture of bile and undigested rice. Tony squeezed his eyes shut a second in commiseration before rubbing the kid’s back to help him through it. “It was a good attempt buddy,” he said quietly as Peter retched painfully into the bucket until he was dry heaving only.

The episode only lasted for a couple minutes but Peter looked completely exhausted when he collapsed back to rest against the headboard of his bed, letting Tony pull the bucket from his limp grasp. “No thanks,” he said, voice sounding even worse now, throatier and deeper than normal with the wear and tear on his vocal cords, and pushing away the bottle of Pedialyte Tony had tried to force into his hand.

“Not optional kiddo,” Tony told him sympathetically, pressing the straw between Peter’s unwilling lips and staring until he finally gave in and took a few swallows, his Adam’s apple spasming.

“Can I just sleep?” He asked pathetically, eyes red rimmed and skin both pale and flushed, skin drooping with how tired he clearly was.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Tony offered. “You eat another five bites and drink a quarter of the Pedialyte and I’ll let you have a four hour nap before we repeat. Do we have an accord?”

Peter looked at him with sad eyes, the bags under them dark and deep. “I don’t really get a choice huh?”

“Not if you want to avoid the MedBay,” Tony agreed. “The only reason I haven’t taken you already is because you asked me not to but, if this gets any worse, you’ll have to go.”

“Give me the rice,” Peter said, defeated and Tony passed it to his shaking grip, steadying the bowl while Peter forced down five bites of the rice, washing it down with the drink before lying back and cuddling up to Tony’s side, eyes already half-lidded with sleep.

“Put on some Brooklyn 99 would you FRI? Volume at twenty percent.”

“On it Boss,” FRIDAY’s voice responded quietly, pulling the show up on the flat screen in Peter’s room as Tony started massaging Peter’s scalp.

At some point he must have fallen asleep as well because, the next thing he knew, he was waking up to Peter gagging out his name and lurching for the trash can next to the bed. Tony hastened to grab it and thrust it under Peter’s chin – just in time for the poor kid to retch weakly into it. “Let it all out Webs,” Tony said, rubbing Peter’s sweaty back and brushing his lank bangs out of his face. It wasn’t until Peter was done and panting against Tony’s chest that Tony noticed that the bucket contained a concerning amount of blood and material that looked like coffee grounds. “FRI tell Cho to meet me in the MedBay.”

“No,” Peter whined, curling closer to Tony and tucking his legs into his stomach – balling himself up tight.

“Sorry buddy,” Tony told him, crawling out of the bed as carefully as possible to not jostle Peter too much. “You’re vomiting blood so we have to.”

“What?” Peter asked, confused, craning his neck to look into the trash can and then paling further. “Oh.”

“Yep,” Tony agreed, dragging him up to stand before finally just scooping Peter up into a bridal carry when it became obvious that Peter’s knees weren’t going to support him the whole way downstairs. Tellingly, Peter didn’t protest; he just curled into Tony’s shoulder, one hand tangling into his sweatshirt.

Helen wasn’t present when Tony burst into the MedBay a few minutes later but her nursing staff were quick to get Peter settled into a bed and get his vitals and an updated history from Tony. By the time Helen had swept into the room, looking put together and not at all like Tony had woken her up in the middle on the night, the nurses had already drawn blood and placed an IV catheter to start fluids.

“I was hoping I wouldn’t be seeing you in here Peter,” she said, taking his chart and flicking through it.

“Same,” the kid agreed with a weak smile, not letting go of Tony’s hand or the basin he had been given shortly after they got him in a bed.

“So you still have the nausea but it says here that you been having some issues with acid reflux and that you had a fair bit of blood mixed with the bile you just threw up?” She asked, using her stethoscope to listen to Peter’s heart and lungs before moving on to feeling his lymph nodes. “How much blood?” She directed to Tony.

“All of it was blood,” Tony answered, trying to stay calm. He needed to text May ASAP but he was hesitant to do so until he knew what was wrong. “Maybe half a cup? Some of it looked like coffee grounds.”

Helen hummed as she moved on to palpating Peter’s abdomen, apologizing when he flinched. “Have you been on any medications recently Peter? Aspirin, Advil, Aleve? Any stress?”

“Midterms were last week,” Peter answered slowly. “I had a pretty bad headache the whole week and I did take some Advil a few times a day.”

“How much and how often?”

“Uh…,” Peter said, face scrunching as he tried to think. “Maybe like eight to ten pills three or four times a day? I’ve done that before though, Dr. Banner told me I would need that many because of my metabolism.”

“Very true,” Helen agreed. “But not that often. Based on your symptoms and history I’m tentatively diagnosing you with a stomach ulcer that has likely perforated based on the blood in your vomit.”

“An ulcer?” Peter asked, looking like he was having a hard time tracking, Tony gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“So what do we do next?” He asked, running his hand through Peter’s hair quickly in solidarity. An ulcer. Of course his kid would end up with a bleeding ulcer.

“Well we’ve already drawn blood to check for infection or anemia,” Cho answered. “Depending on the results I’ll start him on fluids and maybe a blood transfusion. Since this has been affecting him for a while and because we need to get some calories in his as soon as we can, I’ll stop the bleed and remove the ulcer via an endoscopy. You won’t even have to be fully under for it, just sedated.”

“Okay,” Peter agreed blandly – a sure tell that the kid felt like shit. Cho made steady eye contact with Tony for just a second before reaching out to squeeze Peter’s bicep.

“Tony can I speak to you in the hall? I need to get you to sign some releases while the nurses get Peter prepped,” she asked.

“Sure,” Tony nodded, giving Peter a careful side hug before following the doctor out of the room, shutting the door behind him – all the rooms were soundproofed due to all the enhanced humans in the Tower and their sensitive hearing. “You were clearly holding something back,” he accused. “You’re lucky Pete’s so out of it or he would have picked up on it too.”

Helen sighed deeply, finally looking tired. “He’s lost too much weight.”

“I know,” Tony agreed sadly, reaching up to massage his temples with one hand. “What are we going to do about it?”

Helen clicked her tongue and tapped a finger against the tablet in her hands. “He’ll probably be able to eat once her wakes up but I really just want to place an NG tube while he’s under so he can have a continuous stream of nutrients going in. We could even continue feeding him while he’s sleeping, really get the weight back on. I wanted to talk to you first before I brought it up. He’s on the cusp right now so he could get away without having it but I don’t really want to give him the option to decline it. It would help him recover a lot faster.”

Tony hummed, torn. He didn’t really want to take away Peter’s agency here but he agreed with Helen that he doubted the kid would go for it. “Let me talk to him about it,” Tony finally conceded. “I might be able to get further with him.”

“Sure,” Helen said with a nod. “You should be good to go back in and sit with him, it’ll take another thirty minutes to an hour to get everything ready but we’ll let you know when it’s time.”

“Thanks,” Tony said sincerely, re-entering the room. Peter was still sitting propped up in bed in his comfortable sweatpants and hoodie, not having to change since the procedure was so simple, but with the addition of another IV catheter in his other arm connected to a bag of his own blood – donated earlier in the year for occasions such as this.

“So what did Dr. Cho want,” he asked, eyes still tired but shining with his usual intelligence and a bit of curiosity.

“Figured we wouldn’t be able to get that past you,” Tony said sardonically, taking a seat on the edge of Peter’s bed, facing him. “Helen wants to place an NG tube while you’re under. Wait,” he said, holding up a hand preemptively when Peter opened his mouth. “You’ve lost too much weight as it is and it’s going to be hard to put it back on with the bland diet she’s going to have you on while you heal. Doing this will make your recovery go so much faster.”

“I don’t want to be stuck in here,” Peter grumbled, gesturing the the room and Tony let one side of his mouth tick up in a smile.

“Hate to break it to you kiddo,” he said, “but that’s already a forgone conclusion.” The kid groaned and Tony let a full smile pull across his face, many of his previous worries eased with the diagnosis and treatment plan. “Let Cho do this and I’ll pull as many strings as I have to to spring you early. Deal?”

Peter made a face, his nose crinkled in disgust but he nodded in defeat anyway. “Two days. At most.”

“Three,” Tony haggled, holding out a hand which Peter eventually took with a sigh. “Great! FRI, relay that to Helen please.”

“Done Boss. She said she’ll be ready for Peter in about ten minutes.”

“Thanks honey,” he said, still smiling. “I’ll call May while you’re out and have Happy pick her up after her shift. She can stay here for the next few days.”

“Thanks Mr. Stark,” Peter said, his voice still sounding more destroyed than Tony had ever heard it but lighter somehow – probably because he could see the light at the end of the tunnel and knew he would be feeling much better soon.

“Anytime kiddo. Anytime.”

[forever-rogue]

whiskey coming to check on you at the hospital after you’ve been injured in a statesman’s mission?

Soft, protective Whiskey? Sign me up 🥺

»»————-　♡　————-««

Nothing but a steady beep met your ears as you cracked your eyes open. They felt crusted and gross, and it took a few tries to blink away the bleariness that had built up. Exactly how long as you been sleeping? Trying to sit up and figure out your surroundings proved to be a bad idea as a groan of pain pushed past your dry, cracked lips. What the hell?

So you moved slowly, taking care not to irritate whatever injuries you had acquired as you made it into an upright position. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you took everything in, and slowly came to the conclusion that you were in a hospital. A sense of panic set in as you threw the thin, itchy blanket back and realized there was a cast on your right leg and bandages all around your middle. Bruises and scratches littered your skin, and you took everything in slowly.

You hated hospitals, loathed them entirely because most of the time they signified nothing good. You tried to wrack your brain to figure out how you’d gotten there, but nothing came to find. All you knew was that something on your mission must have gone awry. Studying the IVs going into your arm, you momentarily considered ripping them out and making a hasty getaway, but any plans you came up with were quickly stopped when a nurse walked in.

“Oh Miss L/N!” she beamed at you as though you had known your whole. She was kind looking, with a warm smile that somehow put you at ease. She was holding a colorful bouquet of daisies, displaying them to you proudly, “you’re finally awake! Now you can finally enjoy all of these beautiful flowers your husband has been sending!”

You looked around the small, sterile place and looked at the small menagerie of flowers and plants that littered the room. They were a collection of your favorites, lovely, and surely must have cost a small fortune. But that’s when it hit you-

“I-I don’t have a husband,” you raised your eyes at her as she set the newest addition next to you, tutting softly, “these must be for someone else…there has to have been some sort of mix up.”

“Oh no, there’s no mistake,” she insisted, and you were slightly taken aback. Who was she to be insisting that you were married?

“I-”

“Your husband has been here every day, sitting by your side for hours,” she explained and your jaw dropped. Something fishy had to be going on. You didn’t even have a boyfriend, let alone a husband, “he should be back soon. He said he had an urgent meeting to go to. Nearly tore him apart to leave your side.”

“Oh,” you sighed, trying to piece it all together, “umm…exactly how long was I out for? How long have I been here?”

“About a week, sweetheart,” she explained, glossing over your vitals and making a few notes on her chart, “you were brought after you took a tumble. Rocking climbing I think they said?”

“Rock climbing,” you repeated. You’d never once been rock climbing; clearly she was some sort of cover and you had been injured on the job, ”and this…husband of mine, what’s his name? What does he look like?”

“Poor thing,” she reached for your face and turned it back and forth, examining you closely. You made a small sound of surprise at the sound outburst, “are you having trouble remembering things? What all do you remember-”

“Can it be?” the voice interrupted her and cut through the room in a warm, drawn out tone. You knew that voice, you knew it all too well, “my wife, love of my live, you’re finally awake.”

“Jack!?” you almost shouted at him as the nurse looked nervously between the two of you, “what the hell is going on here?”

“Sweetheart, that’s your husband,” she insisted and you gave her a shocked look, “do you not remember? Are you having any difficulty-”

“No, no,” you recovered quickly, giving Jack a pointed look, “that’s him, that’s my…husband.”

“Well, I’ll just leave you two alone,” she gave you a beaming smile as she looked between the two of you. You gave her a strained smile as she turned her back to you and walked out, “if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Jack tipped his hat at her, his voice warm and enough to make anyone melt, “and thank you for taking such good care of my baby.”

You laid back in the bed and crossed your arms over your chest, as best as you could, given your current injuries, and waited for Jack to explain what the hell was going on.

He turned to you with a sheepish grin on his face as he came back over to you, taking a seat in the chair by your bedside, “oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad you’re awake-”

“Husband?” you asked as you threw up your hands in exasperation, immediately wincing in pain. He reached over and tried to help you, his hands gentle on yours, “what on earth is going on, Jack?”

“They wouldn’t let anyone come in and see you unless they were family,” he explained as you nodded, realizing that made sense. You had laid back down, but the fact that he hadn’t let go of your hand yet, wasn’t lost on you. His touch was gentle and soft, and you didn’t quite mind it, “so it was the first thing I came up with. You have to understand, it was just under the circumstances, the first thing on my mind and I couldn’t not see you, baby. It’s my fault you’re in this situation in the first place.”

“What…what even happened?”

“Well…I don’t want to make you feel silly or anything,” he cleared his throat as a small smile worked its way on his face, “but you took quite a tumble off a small cliff. We were out scouting a location and you took a step back and lost your footing…”

“You’re telling me that I’m in the hospital because I was a klutz?” you groaned as you hid your face in your hands. Of course. It had to be something silly and pathetic like that. You looked at Jack as he nodded before the two of you started to laugh, which was quickly ended when your ribs started to hurt, “but Jack, why did you say it was your fault? It was clearly mine.”

“I can’t help but blame myself,” he insisted, reaching over and brushing a few locks of stray hair out of your face, “I should have caught you, made sure you were safe.”

“Jack,” you couldn’t help but laugh at the exasperated look on his face, “that’s not your job, this has nothing to do with you-”

“I’m your partner,” he seemed annoyed at myself as he shook his head, “it’s my job to take care of you.”

“Jack,” you repeated firmly, reaching over and putting your hand on his cheek, trying to get his attention, “stop blaming yourself for this. It’s not your fault and I am not mad at all. Okay?”

“Are you-”

“Positive,” you cut him off with a small smile, “I am.”

“Okay,” he agreed and let out a small sigh of relief. He grabbed your hand absentmindedly, placing a small kiss to your palm, “I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to you…”

“Then don’t think about it, husband,” you teased, “can I just ask…what’s with all the flowers?”

“They’re your favorites,” he said as if it was so obvious, “I just wanted you to have something pretty to wake up to.”

“You did all of this for me?” your voice caught in your throat as he nodded, “they’re beautiful, really. But you know, even without them, I would have had something pretty to wake up to.”

“Oh?”

“You,” you teased and a hint of color crept into his cheeks, “the nurse told me you were here all the time. I think that would have been a nice sight to wake up to you. Silly cowboy hat and all.”

“Really?” he gave you a sweet smile and you nodded, “you don’t have to flatter me, sweetheart. You’re still the prettiest thing I have ever seen, and it’s me that has the honor of getting to see you.”

“I look like garbage,” you insisted, knowing you were in desperate need of a long, hot shower, “but thank you.”

“Nonsense,” he insisted firmly, “you are still the prettiest thing.”

You just looked at him, feeling your whole body flush as the constant beeping of your heart monitor picked up and seemed to go haywire. It was only a few moments before the door to your room open and the nurse poked her head to make sure everything was okay, “is anything wrong?”

“No,” your eyes widened as you looked between her and Jack. Who knew he had this type of effect on you? You took his hand and laced your fingers though his, “everything’s fine. Perfect, even.”

[hazza-bear-care]

Stay Safe (3/3)

A/N: LAST PART BABES!!! Thank you so much for all the love this series has gotten, but the time has come for it to end. Let me know what else you guys want to see and I’ll keep posting from every fandom!!! Also, I know the Washington Football Team is no longer affiliated with the name ‘Washington Redskins’ but their old logo is pretty recognizable, so shut up. #HTTR for all my D.C peeps out there ;P

Summary: After MONTHS of teasing, Spencer and Nova finally seal the deal. 

Warnings: SMUT, oral (female receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (Kinda? Nova’s on the pill, but wrap it before you tap it), daddy kink

~~~~~

The weekend had come sooner than Nova had expected, the tiring cases making the week fell shorter than 7 days. Much to the chagrin of her roommate, Nova spent the better part of an hour in the shower shaving everything but her head in an effort to look perfect. Earlier in the week she had managed to sneak away to a boutique, desperate for a new lingerie set. As she stared at the plethora of colors, Spencer’s voice echoed in her head, describing that males were more attracted to their mates in red which prompted her to purchase a maroon set. She thought about being ridiculous and cheesy by embroidering her own Redskins logo onto the hip, but decided against it seeing as neither she nor Spencer were big football fans. 

After blow drying her hair, she decided on straightening her locks as to prevent frizzing as much as she could throughout the evening. Her makeup came next, opting for a slightly more natural look for the night, noticing that Spencer seemed to like the bare faced version of Nova. 

Already wearing her new lingerie, Nova chose to wear a navy blue polka dotted dress, the extremely low cut neck flashing a decent amount of cleavage without giving away the surprise of her lingerie. The dress fell to the middle of her thighs and she paired the dress with a pair of black pumps and silver accessories, a black cardigan draped over her shoulders. Now she was all ready for a date she didn’t know if she wanted to go on. Her mind kept reeling for days about her stunt in the elevator. Although it was enjoyable for both parties, she still didn’t know if it was smart to pursue a relationship with a coworker, especially with how soon everything had happened. 

Wrapping her cardigan around her thumbs, Nova paced in her room, first date jitters causing her to gnaw at her crimson lips. Her worries were soon interrupted by a knock on the door, indicating that the man of the hour was just outside her apartment. With one final deep breath to settle her nerves, Nova grabbed her purse and opened the door, a very handsome Spencer waiting on the other side. She greeted him with a tight smile as she stepped into the hallway of her apartment building, locking the door behind her. 

“You look.... wow! Nova, you look great! Are you ready to go?” Nova nodded, untucking her thumbs from the cardigan. Spencer led her out of her apartment building and to his car and opening the passenger side door for her. Nova knew this date was important to Spencer due to his hatred of driving, especially through DC rush hour. She, however, still couldn’t shake the feeling that this was wrong. 

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Spencer asked, tapping Nova on her thigh. 

“Um, nothing important, Spencer. I guess I’m just excited,” Nova finalized her thoughts, the unsettled feeling in her stomach still making her nauseous. 

~~~~

Halfway through dinner, Nova and Spencer decided to sit in silence after having many a conversation fall short. Nova’s nerves had made her lose her appetite, so the burger, fries, and side salad sat relatively untouched. With a clatter of his fork against his plate, Spencer cleared his throat and attempted to make eye contact with the girl across from him. 

“Nova, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just not very hungry tonight, I guess.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it, Nova! Now tell me what’s wrong,” Spencer whisper-yelled, the irritation very prominent in his voice and eyes. 

“I just don’t think what we’ve been doing lately is... smart. I just started working with you guys and our first case, you fingered me on the jet!”

“I didn’t hear you complaining!”

“Excuse me, Spencer, I’m still talking! My mom always told me to never get involved with people I worked with, and after many failed attempts of aforementioned romance, I finally took her advice and swore to stay away from my coworkers. So this sudden attraction between the two of us threw me off. My anxiety levels have been off the charts thinking about what’s going to happen when and if we break up. I’ll have to quit my job and move to a different part of the country, Spencer.” Nova stopped talking before she choked, the tears in her eyes very prominent when she tried to meet Spencer’s gaze. 

Everything that she said suddenly made sense to Spencer: she was scared. 

“Nova, you have nothing to be afraid of, I promise. I’ll make you a deal: we go out for an undisclosed amount of time. If we break up, I give you full permission to find a taser and use it on me as many times as you want. Deal?” Nova chuckled and sniffed, nodding in agreement to Spencer’s deal. The pair continued to eat, Nova completely ravenous now that the nerves had settled. 

Spencer paid the bill like a gentleman once dinner was over, Nova’s leftover’s tucked safely under her arm as she was escorted back to the car. 

“So, do you want to go back home?” Spencer asked, fully prepared to let the night end right then and there. 

“No. My roommate has midterms to study for so I told her I’d stay out of her way as much as possible.” Nova admitted, not wanting the night to end just yet. 

“Then we’ll go back to my place. Is your roommate going for her Master’s too?”

“Doctorate in Philosophy. Poor girl won’t have a job after she graduates.” Spencer chuckled loudly before defending that philosophy was an acceptable major. The ride to Spencer’s place was fast due to a surprising lack of traffic for 9:30 at night. His apartment was on the third floor, which he explained had more to do with availability rather than the inevitability of hearing his neighbors stomp around above him. Spencer took Nova’s food out of her hands and left to his kitchen giving Nova the opportunity to snoop at his belongings. 

The whole room smelled like books, the multiple shelves almost overflowing with books covering every subject. 

“See anything interesting?” Spencer asked, wrapping his arms around Nova’s waist. 

“You’ve read all of these?” Nova asked, amazed at the impressive selection. 

“Yes, ma’am I have. But you didn’t answer my question: do you see anything you like?” Nova turned her attention back to the bookshelf, a very nice leather bound book catching her eye. 

“This one,” Nova replied, pulling the book off the shelf.

“Proust? Good choice, sweets.” Spencer kissed the top of Nova’s head as he snatched the book from her hands and led her to the couch, allowing her to to get comfortable before he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and opened the book. Spencer began reading one of the most complicated books in the world with such ease as if he’d read it a million times. The words flew out of his mouth with a soothing rhythm that it almost made Nova drowsy. As happy as she was, Nova still couldn’t shake the one question on her mind. 

“Spencer? What are we doing?” Nova asked, interrupting the 20 page sentence her date was reading. 

“We’re on a date, Nova.” Spencer finalized, closing the book on his thumb to remember his place. He glanced over at the girl in his arm and noticed her gnawing at her bottom lip. 

“You know that’s not what I mean. I’ve been on the team for three weeks now, Spencer, and we’ve done more in those three weeks than I’ve done in a three month relationship.... I’m just scared it’s going all too quickly and neither of us are going to be able to enjoy it.” 

“Come on.” Spencer stood from his place on the couch and helped Nova stand herself. He knew she was nervous, granted he knew this wasn’t her first time.

“What? Spencer I....” 

“I know, Nova. But you don’t have to be afraid, okay? I’ve got you.” He brought his lips to hers, the kiss a minor attempt to calm her down. Nova sunk into the kiss, her knees weak and head spinning. Spencer broke off the kiss and lead her to his room, Nova’s nerves twisted her stomach as she followed. Spencer kissed her once more as the door to his bedroom was pushed open and Nova was wrenched inside. Spencer was careful, gentle, as if his actions would cause Nova to shatter completely, He could feel her heart beating faster as he gently pushed her against the wall, his hands coming up to cup her face. 

“Spencer..” Nova whined as his lips moved to her neck, wet kisses making her weak in the knees. He started unbuttoning the top of her dress, the sides of it opening to reveal the maroon lace underneath. Spencer stifled a groan at the sight of what Nova had managed to hide during the entire date, blood rushing to his erection.

“For someone who was nervous three hours ago, you sure did come prepared.” Attempting to lighten the mood, Spencer joked as he lead Nova to the bed, pushing her to lay down on the pillows behind her. 

“Spencer-”

“Shh. Let me take care of you, Nova. I’ve got you.” After repeating himself, Spencer made his way down to Nova’s core, flipping the dress of her skirt up and growling at the sight of her matching panties. Kissing her knees, Spencer spread her legs open and settled between them. Nova tensed as Spencer peppered kisses on her thighs, making his way to her core. She choked on her breath as he placed a warm kiss to her panties, the warmth of his face making her want him more. 

Spencer pushed Nova’s underwear to the side and buried his face in her heat, the gasp she released sounding delicious to him. His tongue danced around her clit as his fingers itched to get inside her heat once again, the memory of her walls clenching around them hazy. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he admired how sweet she tasted, the sounds falling from her lips making her sound like an angel. Deciding she was ready enough, Spencer tested the waters by inserting one finger into her tight pussy, walls already clenching from the intrusion. 

“Fuck you’re so eager, aren’t you baby girl?” Nova whined and nodded, bucking her hips in a futile attempt to get more friction from Spencer. The man in question chuckled at how needy Nova was before coming up from his place and kissing her lips, taking the opportunity to slip another finger inside her. He slid his tongue into her mouth as she gasped, the feeling of Spencer’s fingers and mouth making her head spin. Spencer sped up his movements, his mouth muffling the noises Nova spilled into his mouth. 

“Spencer, please!” Nova whined. Spencer pecked her lips once again before he returned to his previous place, his lips immediately wrapping around her clit yet again. Nova moaned loudly, jumping at the feeling of pleasure. Her hands found a place in Spencer’s hair and tugged rather harshly which evoked a moan from Spencer, the vibrations against her clit causing her to buck her hips yet again. She was close and Spencer could feel it. He curved his fingers, easily accessing the spongy spot that caused Nova to practically scream. Her thighs shook and her toes curled, the grip on Spencer’s locks tightening. When her orgasm finally washed over her body, she froze, eyes rolling back into her head and jaw dropping into the perfect ‘O’ shape. Spencer didn’t ease up until she started pushing him away, her breath stuttering as she tried to catch it. 

Once she had calmed down enough, Spencer sat her up and removed her clothes, dress, shoes, and underwear scattered around the room haphazardly. As Spencer left the bed to get undressed himself, Nova attempted to follow him, determined to return the favor. 

“No. You get back up there, baby girl, this night is about you.” Spencer towered over her, his shirtless physique not comparing to the beauty of Nova’s naked form still on the bed. 

“But-”

“I said no, Nova. Now get back up there.” 

“How about you make me, Daddy?” Spencer growled and practically jumped out of his pants, a hand immediately wrapping around Nova’s throat. He pushed her back into the pillows, lips smashing against hers. The once romantic evening had turned into a night of intense passion, the pair not caring about the shift in emotions. Nova’s hand somehow wrapped around Spencer’s dick, the man above her hissing into her mouth. His grip on her neck tightened as he pulled away and kissed down her body. 

This was the first time he had seen Nova fully nude and he couldn’t get enough of the view: her naked body complimenting his bed perfectly, as if she was what his adult apartment was missing. Spencer didn’t realize that he was staring until Nova wrapped her arms around her breasts and stomach, the insecurities settling in her bones. 

“You’re beautiful, Nova. Please don’t hide from me, okay?” Spencer adjusted his stance, moving Nova’s hands from her body. Still feeling a little insecure, Nova reached up and kissed Spencer softly, the atmosphere once again shifting back to the romantic ease that it had started with. Spencer returned the kiss passionately, his hands trailing up her sides and settling on her breasts. She whined again, Spencer’s warm hands comforting her. 

“Are you ready?” Spencer asked as they both got situated. Nova’s legs spread by her own volition as she tried very hard to look anywhere than between Spencer’s legs. 

“Yeah, Spence. Please do something before I change my mind.” Spencer laughed at her eagerness. He swiped his hand through her folds, gathering some of her slick on his fingers, which caused her to moan, and pumped himself a couple times before lining himself up at her entrance. Watching her expressions, he slowly thrust himself forward, pausing a little when he heard Nova gasp. She met his line of sight and nodded, telling him to move. Spencer thrust again, sheathing himself inside her heat fully, the two of them moaning at the feeling. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight.” Spencer groaned, moving his hips slightly. Nova moaned at the feeling of Spencer’s dick slipping in and out of her. 

“Spencer, please go faster.” Spencer obliged and picked up his pace, the fast movements eliciting loud moans to fall from Nova’s mouth. Spencer gazed affectionately at the girl below him, the view of his dick splitting her open turning him on even more than he already was. 

“You like that, baby? You like the feeling of Daddy’s cock deep inside you?” Spencer asked, wrapping his hand around her neck yet again. Nova’s eyes rolled into the back of her head in pleasure, a very loud moan spilling from her. He wrapped his lips around one of her nipples, biting lightly at the nub. 

“Yes, Daddy, please, more.” The hand that was on her hip traveled to her clit, his thumb rubbing as fast as his hips were going. The rest of his hand was spread across her stomach, the appendage moving slightly as he thrusted in and out of Nova’s glistening pussy. Her head was thrown back in pleasure, the sounds flowing freely making him go crazy. He left her nipples and pressed his lips to Nova’s, tongues dancing frantically. The pair separated but kept their foreheads together, the passion very obvious in both pairs of eyes. 

“Fuck, Nova, I’m close.” Spencer grunted, speeding up his ministrations yet again. 

“Me- fuck, yes! Right there, right there, right there! Fuck, Spencer!” Nova didn’t need to confirm that she was close as well, but Spencer took the note and kept hitting the right spot, going impossibly fast. He rubbed her clit, holding back as much as he could before he came. 

With a shout, Nova came, her powerful orgasm making her numb. She clenched her eyes shut, the fireworks exploding repeatedly as her body shook. She barely heard Spencer’s groan as he spilled his seed in her, hissing at how much her walls were clenching around him. He fell forward, resting his full weight on top of Nova’s body as they both came down from their most intense orgasms ever. 

“Holy...” Nova started, once again running her hands through his hair. Spencer chuckled and nuzzled further into Nova’s chest, never wanting to move. 

“Will you answer my question now, Spencer?” With a sigh, he shifted and held himself up with his forearms. His brown eyes, bore into hers as he tried to find the right words. 

“Nova, I don’t want this to be a one time thing. You don’t deserve to be used like that. You’ve held my attention since your first day at the BAU, so I figured I’d make a move before someone else did. I know everything we’ve done has been... unorthodox, but it’s just because I liked you so much. I promise from now on we will do the dating thing correctly; no sex until you say so. Nova, I know you’re scared, but I promise you’ll have nothing to fear while we’re together, okay?” Spencer’s eyes were wide as he pleaded for a second chance, a better chance. 

“Okay. I swear to God you make me regret this, I’ll do more than just use a taser on you.” Spencer and Nova chuckled, smiling into yet another kiss before settling into a more comfortable position, both of them hissing when Spencer pulled himself out of her heat. He stood from the bed in all his naked glory and left the bedroom, which of course confused Nova. When he returned, he had a glass of water and the abandoned Proust. He handed the glass to Nova, who gulped down a majority of it before settling back into Spencer’s arms as he picked up from where he left off. Soon, Nova fell asleep feeling safer than she’d ever had before and she wasn’t complaining about who held her close. 

Spencer kept reading long after Nova had fallen asleep, but he promised to catch her up the next morning. For now, she’d sleep in his arms, in his bed, in his apartment. And he wasn’t complaining at all. 

[blarrghe]

Hi! I'm going to go for a dramatic one for the cliché prompts: "You’re in a coma and I confess all my feelings only for you to wake up" for Fenders (or whoever you prefer) if that works for you <3

I’m on a bit of a Dorianders kick and can’t seem to stop, so thank you very much for the prompt but I went a bit off book with it... hope that’s alright w you.

I altered this a little to “Dorian’s father is asleep on his deathbed and he confesses all his pent up feelings only for Anders to walk in”

So that’s um, how modern au Resident!Anders and Politician!Dorian met. It got a bit long and is very very angsty.

Summary: Anders is a resident working rough hours at a hospital (in Tevinter?? look this is just going to be a series of ficlets I have not worked out the details yet), struggling with his medical debts and work-related sleep deprivation. Dorian is an idealistic politician working his way out of his recently deceased father's shadow. They meet when Anders is attending to his father on his death bed, and things go from there, I guess.

--

Anders took a deep breath. With it, the something hissing over his heart settled down to a whisper. The hospital always beset him with inner whispers; not a good feeling, but one that compelled him on, nevertheless. Pediatrics hit the hardest, the injustice of it all, but being there also kept his mind steady. Doing something. Critical Care was different. There wasn't usually a lot he could do, in the Critical Care wing. And his rounds today had him facing that patient, the one for whom there was nothing to be done, and who set his obsessively helpful spirit into split ends, because he was also an absolute asshole. When Anders was in a room with him, under steely eyes and the cracking whip of his tongue, the disease in him felt deserved, and some part of Anders burned like blue fire, so hot it took biting his cheek bloody to restrain his bedside manner from bad attitudes. The disease is never deserved, he reminded himself and the licks of flame that still remembered the patient's rude barkings from last time. Even in rich men who in life had been given much more than they ever did deserve, a death like this one was still a hard death, and people who are dying are allowed to die angry. So he took another deep breath, because dealing with some patients just needed that much more breathing, but he could still do his job. And that was the job; to be there, at the end, for anyone.

He was getting worse, sleeping more. It wouldn't be long now, and Anders tried not to be relieved. He checked his charts, his monitors, the IVs still barely holding him up. Increased the morphine, for his pain, and finished without saying a word. For a moment, he almost missed it; at least when the man was swearing at him and ranting in indecipherably bigoted tirades, he was lively. He sighed, staying the extra moment to offer the man's sallow cheeks a sympathetic glance. Death was a natural part of life, and he was old, and an asshole, and maybe he didn't deserve it but... soon the bed would be free again, and that would be alright.

When he turned to leave, there was a dark figure sitting on the bench in the hall outside. He was reading a magazine but not flipping the pages, one leg crossed over the other in the stiff posture of someone who is uncomfortably waiting for uncomfortable news. One of the family. Anders took another deep breath. He hadn't had dealings with the wife, but he'd overheard them well enough. An unpleasant woman for an unpleasant man, trying to buy off death and then trying to kick the whole hospital down with her complaining when she couldn't. If the man waiting outside now took after either of them, his shift was about to get a whole lot worse.

He stepped out into the hall, and the man looked up from his magazine. His features were striking, sculpted. Skin the deep, radiant bronze that Anders was sure his father's would have been, back in his youth before misery and disease stole its colour. And he was, unmistakably now, his asshole patient's son; same steely grey eyes, right down to the faint creases beside them, and just as unfeeling.

"Are you his doctor?"

Usually, that question, asked at this point in the process of losing someone, was croaked out. But the son didn't croak, he asked his question with a continued lack of feeling, and a bit of impatience.

"Not his attending, only a resident. I can page the doctor, if you'd like,"

"No, that's fine. Can you just tell me how long?" The man stood up, tall. Much taller than the way people usually stood in hospital corridors; poised and proud in his posture — not actually taller than Anders, but he felt it. Still a little stiff maybe, but anything uncomfortable was covered up by how well he fit into his suit; smooth and black and clinging to his body like it was made to hold him. Anders blinked, "how long he has," the son clarified unnecessarily, still coolly impatient, "I have places to be, you see."

His eyes wandered past Anders, hesitating over the window to the room where his father lay dying, then snapping back again. Not entirely unfeeling after all, but the sadness in them was troubled by something else, still indecipherable. Anders wondered what kind of relationship a son could have with a father — a father like that — for so many secrets to be buried in that glance.

Anders swallowed. No he didn't, he decided, but the thing that whispered care into his heart was wondering, catching onto the well-hidden glimpse of feeling in the man, craving already to comfort the rest.

"A few days, maybe." He answered, gentle with the news. The son nodded once. "You should say your goodbyes."

The son was looking past him again, back through the window at the sleeping form of his father, more unhappy secrets set into his jaw. Anders watched the jaw tense, and stay there.

"In a few days, maybe." Replied the man, though he barely moved his tense jaw to say it. "He's awake."

Anders turned to follow the man's eyes, landing his own gaze on a twitching hand and barely moving bedsheets. He didnt look back again before darting into the room to offer his patient care.

"Dorian?" Croaked the patient, steely grey eyes opening to scan his face, and then closing in apparent disappointment.

"Your son? He's right outside, I'll —" but he wasn't. The tall, statuesque man was gone, the magazine left lying open on the bench outside in an empty white hallway. "I'm sure he'll be back soon." Anders amended, attempting to offer a bright spot of hope. His patient grunted.

Anders took a step away from the bedside, but as he did a thin, wrinkled hand shot out, and grabbed him by the wrist. The cold, unfeeling eyes opened, except now they were sad. "A word of advice, if you don’t want to be disappointed in life, don't have children." Even breathy and hoarse, he managed to give his voice bite. Then his asshole patient's gaze fell on the little gold earring hanging from Anders’ ear, and he coughed. Anders took a deep breath in preparation for another insult, and to help him recover from the bit of unfriendly advice. "You're lucky they don't let you people have them."

Anders tried not to sigh. The dying are allowed to die angry. "I'm sure he'll be back." He said again.

----

Dorian. The name stuck to him almost as well as his tight black trousers, and Anders couldn't help but turn it over a few times in his mouth after he left the room. He made the rest of his rounds, and checked back in on father-of-the-year Pavus a few more times, lying to himself about what he was hoping to find. Dorian. He never did come back though, not during visiting hours of that day, nor the day after. On the third day things weren't looking well, and Bride of Asshole Pavus had alerted everyone on staff to the fact that it was their fault, even the poor janitors. The bed would probably be free again by the end of his shift.

He made his rounds, thinking as little about that particular patient and his particularly unpleasant wife as he could, trying to tell his inner whisperings that it wasn't worth being sad over, even if the son never said goodbye. Maybe he didn't deserve one, how could Anders judge? (Everyone deserves one). Under his breath, Anders told himself to shush. (If not for the father's sake, then for his own). Again, shush. Then, through the too-thin walls and slightly ajar door as he made his way down the glaringly white hallway, Anders heard muttering. Sad, broken, angry muttering. He stopped.

" —I don't want it." the phrase was repeated a few times, some utterings angry, others sad, all of them broken. "I don't want your life. I don't want to be you. I don't —" Dorian. Dorian choking on a sob. Anders took a step back, careful about the squeak of his shoes. "I don't even know why I —" he tried not to listen in (no you didn't), but the door was ajar. "Everything. I could become everything you ever asked of me and it would still never be enough, so I don't know why I— I —" there was another heartwrenching choke to a stop, then a gutteral sound of frustration that Anders could feel in his own gut. "Just once. You couldn't say it just once?" It sounded like the kind of question he wouldn't be getting an answer to even if the man were conscious. "I'm sorry." Anders felt that in his gut too, and the thing he was trying to keep quiet inside him wondered if the words were from Dorian to his father, or the ones Dorian was begging his unconscious body for, or both.

In hospital rooms, the sound of beeping monitors disappeared into the fray. Wheels on stretchers trundling down the halls, squeaking shoes on linoleum, ventilators whirring and monitors beeping. They only sounded like anything when they stopped, and let out that one long note to signify the end. Dorian choked out his apology several more times, once sad, once angry, always desperate, and then the monitor stopped beeping, drowning out his gasps for air with its ending, and Anders had to do his job. He walked in.

Dorian shot up. Hands swiping at his red eyes and posture somehow rising without even a hint of hunch, and Anders pretended poorly not to see any of it. The attending came, procedures were followed, and Dorian disappeared into the waiting room like he was supposed to, without a look back.

The wife was gone by the time Anders poked his head into the waiting room. It wasn't his job to tell the family, and the news had long been shared, but something told him to peek in anyway. He took another deep breath when he saw him — this family really seemed bent on messing with his breathing — sitting, one long leg crossed over the other, staring down a terrible cup of coffee, not drinking it. He sat straight, his skin shone, his suit fit him like a glove and not a hair on his head was out of place, but he looked tired. Dorian. Anders approached cautiously. It would be a while before the family could take the body, and he should go home, rest. He told him as much, to a response of slow nods. Then Dorian looked up from his coffee, eyes emotionless except for the fact that they were lined in watery red.

"I'm just waiting for my mother to finish hounding her lawyers," he said, and despite himself Anders looked about nervously, "she's not here, don't worry. She left for home an hour ago. If I wait another, she'll have tired herself out and passed out under a bottle of wine." He sighed heavily, "could use one myself, but to be honest with you I don't quite feel like going home." His eyes flicked up into Anders' with a dim light of mischief, and Anders wondered what his looks could do for him on a good day. Things Anders could never hope to achieve, no doubt.

Anders offered him the carefully crafted soft smile he reserved for these kinds of things, and said “sorry for your loss” with just a touch more feeling than most patients’ families received, since the man looked like he needed it. 

“Can’t say the same to you I suppose,” Dorian replied, shaking his head, “though I am sorry.”

Anders opened his mouth, struggled to find anything to do with it, and then closed it again. 

“For my mother,” Dorian explained as he put the coffee cup he was still holding down on the low table in front of the chair he was decorating, apparently giving up any semblance of drinking it, “I’m sure his care was better than he deserved, but she doesn’t do well in situations she can’t control. It won’t come to anything.” 

Anders nodded slowly. Better than he deserved? A phrase Anders might have thought himself, over the past few weeks of dealing with the irate patient as he approached death’s door, but now that he’d gone through it, something about the sentiment irked him.

“Everyone deserves compassionate care,” he corrected with another careful smile, “the best chance we can give, and comfort when that’s spent. No less.” 

The response did something odd to Dorian’s face; first a sigh, then it transmuted itself into a strangled sort of laugh, while he shook his head and regarded Anders with still-dull eyes. “Well, it can’t have been easy,” he muttered, eyes landing on Anders’ soft smile, which he hoped was still there. “Thank you.” 

Anders left him then, offering one more nod and smile before turning away to finish the rest of his shift. Two hours later, changed out of his scrubs and into his tattered old jacket over his tattered old t-shirt and jeans, he walked by the waiting room again, on his way out. Dorian was still there, still staring down that same cup of undrunk coffee. 

“Mr. Pavus, ser?” 

Dorian started at the sound, and looked up from the coffee with an almost angry light in his icy eyes. “Please, Maker, call me anything but that.” 

Anders swallowed. “It’s — it’s Dorian, isn’t it?” Dorian nodded, “Dorian,” saying his name to his face felt wrong, somehow, “it’s getting rather late, is there someone I should call for you?” 

Dorian shook his head. “No,” he sighed. “Are there any bars nearby? A really terrible one, preferably.” 

Anders frowned, but there was a pretty terrible bar just across the street, stuck into a hole in the wall of an alley, with grimy old barstools and floors littered in peanut shells, so he told him so. Dorian stood, always so tall. 

“Thank you, Doctor…” 

“Anders,” he attempted a smile, but there was a good deal too much worry in it, he was sure, “just Anders; I’m off duty.” 

Dorian turned from him, then suddenly turned back. “Would you care for a drink, Anders?” 

Anders blinked. “I uh —” 

“You’ve seen the last of what was undoubtedly your worst patient today, haven’t you? Don’t tell me you didn’t plan to celebrate.” 

His brows creased unhappily, all on their own, and something inside him whispered back the memory of that broken bedside apology. “I wouldn’t —” 

“You should. I aim to. On me?” There was that light of mischief again, a little brighter, coupled with what could almost be a smirk. Maker, was he flirting? 

“I don’t drink.” 

Dorian frowned, and Anders almost wished he did. “A bowl of peanuts on me, then.” Dorian amended his offer with a shrug. And for some unknown reason, Anders nodded. 

“Alright.” 

[fyeah-bangtan7]

j-hope: “Even just one, single love is beautiful, but we’re getting love from all over the world”

On April 28, j-hope streamed a Log ( ON ) video of his dance warm-up on BTS’s YouTube channel, BANGTANTV. Over the course of an hour and four minutes, he stretches out his whole body, gradually advances from small motions up to big movements, and demonstrates more of his other techniques. And he didn’t leave out his cooldown exercise, either. This has been j-hope’s life as a BTS member for the past seven years.

A whole lot happened this year. j-hope: Like I said in another interview, it’s been a roller coaster of a year. It started out with our performance at the Grammys, which was really, really, great, and then Map of the Soul: 7 came out, which was great, too, and then it plummeted. With COVID-19 happening, I did a lot of thinking, did some studying, then everyone met “Dynamite” and we had some great results. And the ride repeated. Roller coasters are scary, but you keep thinking about them even after you get off. That’s how I felt about this year: it was scary, but memorable.

One of those memorable things must be how “Dynamite” topped the Billboard Hot 100 but you never had a chance to actually go to the U.S. j-hope: So when we got first place, we couldn’t even check the charts. We were asleep. We checked when we woke up, and there we were, at the top. But then we went straight to work. (laughs) We had to film something here in Korea. It was hard to enjoy ourselves, the whole situation being what it was, but it was all right because we could still enjoy it together.

You must have had a lot on your mind, making BE during this kind of year. j-hope: I tend to think of BTS albums as being a reflection of the whole team, but this time I thought of it as putting in the stories I wanted to tell, making it my music and infusing myself into the new album while still being a BTS album. It turned out to be right at home with BTS’s color, and the whole team’s energy led to an even bigger synergy.

What made you think to go in that direction? j-hope: We started this album off by getting together and asking what kind of story we wanted to tell. The end result of that conversation was, “Well, hey, we still have to live with this situation; we can’t give up.” And from there, “Life Goes On” was born, and then we got to work on the stories we each wanted to tell. I think it sounds more raw, since we tried to capture the emotions we felt living through the pandemic.

I imagine you each had a lot of songs you wanted to include, and that your opinions were probably all a bit different. How did you compromise on the final product? j-hope: None of us made any kind of plan. We’d listen to a track and someone would ask, “Hey, anybody wanna give this a try?” and someone else would say, “Me! I’ll do it.” We just did it that way. There were clashes, too. When each person starts to speak louder, it’s hard to find a common ground. But we’ve always been good at communicating with one another, and we know when to back down or be gracious, so everything went smoothly including planning for the unit songs.

How did each of you choose your songs? You put “Dis-ease” on the album. j-hope: There’s one song where we were working in the studio and someone said, “That track wasn’t very good, was it? Jung Kook’s one before was better” and we’d switch on the spot. The song would be done recording and we talked to the label and ended up switching it out. We listened to it all together and said, “What about this?” And that’s how we decided. So then “Life Goes On” was done, and I wasn’t sure if “Dis-ease” would be on the album. We gave the seven songs from each member to Jimin, who was project manager, and he suggested we listen to them first and then get feedback from people inside the company. I think it was one of the stories each member could feel was his own.”

Where did you get the idea for the theme of “Dis-ease”? j-hope: First, I wanted to get into the mindset that this song is a sickness. When I make a song, I work on the chorus first, and then move onto the first verse. When I had only finished the chorus the song felt upbeat, but I thought the overall theme shouldn’t be too playful. That wouldn’t reflect how I felt. But while the theme of “Dis-ease” itself isn’t very light, when it fuses with the beat, it feels as if the song is trying to get over itself and stay positive. So I threw some scratching into the chorus and put in some “bbyap bbyap bbayp” and then started to think, “Aha! I’d better call this song ‘Dis-ease.’ ”

I didn’t expect you to write a song portraying your love–hate relationship with your work as a disease. A lot of people would expect you to have a positive, hopeful attitude, given your name. j-hope: I was too busy to ever give much thought about the work itself. But, as you know, that suddenly changed, and there was a lot we could no longer do. When I was working, I’d say, “Ugh, I need a break,” but then we took time off and the words, “Ugh, I want to work,” jumped out of my mouth! That’s what made me think more closely: “Why is this bothering me? I have a chance to rest—just take it. Why do I feel like I need to work under these circumstances? Is this an occupational disease?” I felt like this was a part of me that I could express at this point in time.

This is the first time in your lyrics I’ve heard how hard you push yourself to be successful. It made me wonder about the burden you felt about work over the past seven years. j-hope: Out of habit, I would say, “I’m okay; I have hope,” and keep working, but I think I was just avoiding my work-related problems rather than facing them head on. The nice thing about music is that I can say what’s on my mind, even feeling of sadness or depression, in beautiful ways. I don’t usually express those feelings but this time I wanted to try.

It sounds like you have lots of different thoughts about work. j-hope: With my work? Well, actually, I’m not sure. Work is kind of an ugly duckling. Work gives me good energy but there’s energy you get from resting. But someone like me feels alive when they’re working, so I need to keep moving and keep doing. I feel anxious when I stop and content when I go. Every once in a while I don’t want to work, but I can’t not work.

You’re saying you and work go well together? j-hope: Exactly. It’s easier just to think simple. If you think too hard, that’s when things get difficult. Because I’m me, I can’t just keep it simple all the time, but I’m trying my hardest to do my best.

Thinking simple isn’t always so simple. j-hope: Yeah. Maybe it’s because I don’t have many problems to deal with. I feel uncertainty because of that. Uncertain about how my identity will be affected if I do encounter some great hardship.

BTS has faced a lot of hardship, though, right? j-hope: That is also true. (laughs) But the team wouldn’t have kept going if it’d just been me cheering ourselves on. We’re possible because we all think the same way. I wonder if we would’ve been able to come this far if it was just me saying, “Let’s go, guys!” That’s why I’m even more thankful to the other members.

What do those emotional changes affect your music? j-hope: I didn’t want to make an overly cheery song this time. I thought it would be best to do some softer songs about the way I was feeling this whole time, so I chose “Dis-ease” as well as “Fly to My Room.” The other members also thought, “Yeah, we’ve done a lot of bright songs, so it should be fine if we try it this way, too.” “Blue & Grey” is like that, too. I love that song.

You have a completely different voice when you rap on “Blue & Grey.” Did your rap style also change, along with your emotions? j-hope: I wanted “Blue & Grey” to sound like I was talking, actually. The tone and feel of my voice changes a lot depending on how I vocalize my rap. I noticed that a lot this time. Namjoon actually helped me a ton. His part was after mine, so I turned to him and said, “Maybe it would sound better if I did it like this,” and tried it out. Then I used his advice and found the right sound.

How does it feel moving away from your normal style? j-hope: It’s really refreshing. I thought it wouldn’t work but I think it did after all. And I always thought this was a feel that I wanted to give it a try. For me, BE is sort of like the first step down an unfamiliar path, so there were parts that were challenging, and also parts that were a welcome change.

I think your rap in “Dis-ease” demonstrates that change well. Instead of trying to keep time in the intro, your flow just follows the story. j-hope: I made sure not to overthink anything this time. It ended up sounding natural because I just matched the rhythm of the words as they left my mouth. And it was refreshing because I haven’t done a long verse like in “Dis-ease” in forever. When we rap, there tend to be four or eight-ish lines; I thought I’d try and pack in a verse with sixteen. It also helped because the lyrics came out before many of the other things for this song.

The music makes “Dis-ease” sound upbeat, but then there’s a surprising message: “To be honest, I have this problem.” It’s like you were holding yourself back from crossing a line. j-hope: It was something like that. Shouldn't we stay on this line? Maybe that’s a disease too (laughs). I thought if j-hope leaned too much to one side people might think that’s strange, too. That’s why I tried to stick to my standards, but since I’m also human I also expressed emotions I couldn’t articulate into music.

You don’t want to try and cross that line? j-hope: I’ve thought about it, obviously. I want to, but in my life itself and in my mind, I always think if there’s a line, it shouldn’t be crossed. But I’m becoming more generous to myself about crossing lines when it comes to music.

So you haven’t crossed yet, but right now you want to say, “I have something else,” and go further. j-hope: Yes. This is maybe a time when I really need to. I’ve been lucky because I met great people, had success and reached where I am now. Now that I’m here, I always want to try new things myself and keep growing. That’s why I’m working hard and thinking about what kind of music I should make.

There’s a part in “Fly to My Room” where you sing, “You can change the way you think.” It’s like you were explaining the past seven years of your life. j-hope: It all depends on how you look at it. Say there’s some kind of food. You might feel lonely while eating it by yourself, but if you forget about your loneliness for a minute and think, “There is no difference in food I would be eating out (with other people) anyway,” then it’s just like eating out. So even though I was stuck feeling lonely at home, I started to think of it as another trip instead. I thought of my room as my world, and delivery food as a three-star hotel meal. As you can tell from the title, I worked on that song by thinking about the way I endured this year so far.

And why did you decide to “change the way you think?” j-hope: Because I get a lot of love. Because I’m in this position and in this place, there’s things I have to deal with, and I should do things and think things I am able to bear. I thought about that a lot and accepted it. So I thought about what I could do during these hard times, and how I could help out my friends, my team. I think I’m still going through that process, too, so everything’s an “-ing”, because I might need to know what to do later about what I can do, even if I don’t quite know it yet.

What effect does being surrounded by so much love have on you? j-hope: It’s amazing to be loved by even one person. Even just one, single love is beautiful, but we’re getting love from all over the world. And I know this isn’t something to take for granted. I’m so incredibly thankful that sometimes I feel overwhelmed just thinking, ‘Wow, how can I ever return this much love?’ I want to express that in any way possible, every moment I can, because I’m so honored to be so loved that I can’t begin to put it into words.

A little while ago, in an interview with Rolling Stone India, you said that, when you were young, you equated debuting with success. What does success mean to you now, now that you’ve had success after success? j-hope: Success … It’s a simple idea, but it can weigh on you. In all aspects of life, I think success means being satisfied with what you’re able to do.When you lose faith in your work and it starts becoming a chore, that’s when it starts to get depressing.

There are inevitably times when you can’t enjoy it. j-hope: It’s just, you know, it’s really simple. If you can’t do it now, you can always do it later. Do that, and you can put your mind at ease. And I think that’s the secret to living a long, happy life. Anything you can’t do in your 20s, you can just do in your 40s. Of course, there’s going to be stuff you should do now while you’re still (laughs) energetic. But if that’s the position you’re in right now, you just have to ride it out. Try again later if you can’t enjoy yourself now. You’ll probably feel different in the future anyway. Yeah, that was pretty much the key to my self-preservation.

Where do you find the strength to hold on like that? j-hope: From the group, it’s very clear what that is. It’s our fans. ARMY. We had to pull through, for the fans. At any time of any day, the fans come first. I keep thinking about how painful it would be for the fans if we just gloss over something or feel like giving up just because we’re having a hard time. I was 20 when we made our debut. I didn’t know much about having a social life, but the messages our fans sent were a big comfort and gave us hope. I learned a lot just by reading fan letters and understanding the kind of thoughts they had. Fans and artists really are one and the same.

That makes me think of a line from “Life Goes On”: “People say the world has changed but thankfully between you and me, nothing has changed.” j-hope: Yes, right. I thought that line expressed the feeling really well as soon as I first heard it. Yoongi wrote that. He is really good. (laughs) I think that describes our relationship with our fans.

© source

[perriewinklenerdie]

History repeats itself  (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

A/N: Hi guys! I'm on a roll (it's that high that patients that are about to die experience right before they crash. Kinda fitting, giving the fact that I'm going to die tomorrow bc of OH, isn't it? :D), like back in the old, good days. This was a request made by a wonderfull Nonnie. Thank you so much for suggesting it! I hope you enjoy it and that I didn’t disappoint :D

This fic is part of the ESIMY series (Claire and Ethan met and got married before they started working together and that’s basically all you need to know, as the fic can be read as a separate work)

Tag list: @paleweasels, @kittykatchoices, @valiantlychaoticbarbarian, @radlovedreamer , @usuallyamazinglyaverage, @awhmilkywey @palestazure, @cordoniaqueensworld, @universallypizzataco, @princess-geek, @faithhasnowords, @mightyfangirlofthefandoms, @drakewalkerfantasy, @timmagicktoad, @laceandlula, @greywitchyshots, @llamasgrl, @gingerjane15, @bucket-harrington , @marywrites-things , @ethanplaysfavorites , @mfackenthal , @betelgeusebee , @simsvetements, @buzz-bee-buzz, @owleyes374, @cora-nova, @aworldoffandoms, @l822, @cream-ray, @ughhhxjazzy, @silverlitskies, @justendlesssummerfeels, @togetherwearerapture, @desmaranj, @edgiestwinter, @friedherringclodthing, @daisy-ashton, @waytooattuned, @choicesgremlin , @lapisreviewsstuff, @the-soot-sprite, @writerapprentice, @chasingrobbie, @choicesobsessedd, @x-kyne-x, @thisperfectmemory, @drakewalker04, @rookie-ramsey, @jlynn12273, @thepinknymph @dr-brianna-casey-valentine, @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @justanotherrookie @mvalentine @starrystarrytrouble 

  Enjoy! <3

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Paging Dr. Ramsey to Dr. Banerji’s office.

He looked up from the article he was reading, expecting a message from his wife. They were supposed to go home soon, finishing her last day of work before she would go on maternal leave. The page didn’t read as urgent, and yet somehow, a shiver ran down his spine. He couldn’t explain it. Call it a hunch that made him abandon his work and rush through the halls of the hospital.

Naveen was waiting for him by the door, his expression gravely. The air in the room was so thick that Ethan, who was running, stopped abruptly in his tracks, feeling weight being slammed against his chest. He didn’t know what was happening yet, but it couldn’t have been anything good.

“Naveen?” he asked, walking closer, treading slowly and carefully, as though it would save him from the approaching heartbreak he could already feel. His friend sighed heavily, stepping towards to him and laying his hand on Ethan’s shoulder.

“You might want to sit down.”

“Tell me. I need to go pick Claire up from the locker room in five minutes.” He didn’t miss how his mentor’s face fell at the mention of her name, making his stomach drop in worry. “What happened?”

“Claire is being transferred to the OR as we speak.” He said, the next words being an almost exact echo of his own words years back. “She had a seizure, full eclampsia. We’re delivering the baby.”

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That day, from the very beginning, was a bust. Her head was pounding, slowly but surely rising and breaking through the threshold of her pain tolerance, causing her to reach out to her OB-GYN in search of any advice, along with some painkillers. Her vision was getting blurred around the sides from time to time, making it incredibly difficult to read charts or look her patients in the eye. Esme asked her about it, figuring out something was wrong when she misread the patient’s name while they were walking towards their room, but she dismissed her with a kind smile.

“That’s pregnancy for you.” she joked, seeing in her resident’s eyes that she didn’t believe her. Sighing heavily, she nodded. “Okay, it’s not typical. I- I would appreciate if you kept your eye on me today. I feel like something is about to go south and I’d like to avoid that.”

“Of course, I’ll watch you like a hawk.”

Light sensitivity came next. Supply closets were her biggest friends that day, providing with as much darkness as she wanted, blocking out any traces of light. She couldn’t barricade herself in there, no matter how much she’d want that, so she braced herself and pushed through.

She knew all those symptoms too well. She was, after all, treating her pre-eclampsia since it reared its ugly head three weeks ago. The moment she heard her diagnosis, she felt as though she has been struck by a lightning. It was the same diagnosis she gave Dolores not even three years ago.

Ethan wouldn’t survive it if this case ended the same way.

Claire was battling with herself. Should she tell him about it and let him worry about her every second of every day until she gave birth and the postpartum eclampsia was ruled out, or should she shoulder that weight on her own, treating it behind his back and praying that he’d never have to find out that the very same complication that took away his dear friend not that long ago, now threatened to take away his wife too.

She opted for something in between. There were symptoms that she couldn’t hide from him, about which they talked and she let him ask about them on their appointments. Dr. Weland, her OB-GYN, was aware of the whole situation, carefully formulating her answers for the first-time father.

It kept her up at night. She knew he would be scared, disappointed that she didn’t tell him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. He’d lock them both up at home for the remainder of her pregnancy, with a private doctor at hand, and treat her with extra caution. But most of all, she didn’t want to see the panic in his eyes, which she knew she’d find there. He would stop sleeping, watching over her at every moment.

Dr. Weland expressed her concerns when she saw Claire that day, hence her asking Esme to keep an eye on her. It wouldn’t be wise to send her home; she would need help in case something went horribly wrong.

Three hours later, as though on cue, she felt pain in her stomach, right below her belly button. All the symptoms she’s been experiencing that day cumulated, striking her at once with double their force, bending her in half. Esme, who was just down the hall, called out her name, rushing towards her, just in time to catch her as she crashed towards the ground, her body shaking.

“She’s seizing! Page Dr. Banerji!” the resident shouted, taking care of the fallen doctor.

“What about Ramsey?” someone asked, pager in their hand.

“Do as I say!”

What happened next could only be described as a chain reaction, its magnitude that of an avalanche. Naveen was called, OR was ordered, Claire was moved onto the bed and wheeled away. The hardest was still ahead of them.

Ethan fell against the wall heavily, struggling to catch his breath. “What do you mean eclampsia? Did she have any symptoms before that? Did she know? Who found her?”

“Dr. Ortega. She probably has more answers for you than I do. Come on, we’ll talk to her and Dr. Weland.”

His every move felt as though there were two impossibly heavy bricks attached to his feet, and another three on his shoulders and his chest. Panic began rising in his chest, fighting the overwhelming urge to let the tears fall. Esme was waiting for them by the entrance to the OR, worry spelled on her face.

“Can someone tell me why my wife and my daughter are fighting for their lives in there?” he barked the question, shaking in emotional distress. Naveen placed his hand on his shoulder, asking him silently to let the doctors speak.

“She’s been not feeling well for the whole day. Asked me to keep an eye on her; she told me she felt like something was about to happen.” the youngest doctor explained, stepping away to make space for Dr. Weland.

“Claire was treating her pre-eclampsia for the past three and a half weeks. The symptoms you noticed and were asking about were all a part of it. She asked me to not tell you, hoping that she would be able to avoid developing eclampsia.”

Never before in his life had he looked up at someone so fast. “She knew? And she didn’t tell me?”

“Ethan, I know you’re angry but-“

“I’m not angry. Right now, I’m terrified, because my family is fighting for their lives and I’m here, instead of being by their side. Step aside, I’m scrubbing in.”

“No.” Naveen shook his head, pulling him aside firmly. “And you know why.”

“Move out of the way, Naveen, I’m going in there.”

“I’m going to lock you in my office if you don’t calm down. You won’t help anyone by being emotional and reckless. Breathe, son, they’re going to be alright.” Ethan’s breathing was treading on the line of hyperventilating, panic rising in his chest even more. At last, tears fell, two trails running down his cheeks. He fell into his friend’s embrace, sobbing like he hasn’t done in a very long time. Helplessness, anger at fate and at himself for not noticing it sooner. “Claire is a fighter, so are you, and so is your daughter. They’ll pull through.”

“The last time I had to give this diagnosis to a person I cared about was Dolores, and she was dead within ours. Don’t tell me to calm down.” He stumbled over his words, holding onto Naveen’s arms for dear life.

“This time will be different.”

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

Not even an hour passed before the surgery ended. It gave Ethan enough time to go over the last weeks, all the pieces falling together into one tragic picture. It was all there, right before his eyes. Edema on her hands and feet, which could be written off as a pregnancy symptom. Headaches plagued her quite often even before she was married, so he didn’t even bat an eye on it, maybe except for the intensity of them. Her nausea returned long after her morning sickness phase passed, but again, pregnancy manifested itself with a variety of things.

He blamed himself. After Dolores died, he thought he’d be able to see the symptoms and prevent it from getting worse, but when it mattered the most, with his own beloved wife, he failed to add two and two.

“Ethan, you can see them now. The baby is safe and healthy, Claire’s condition is under control, she’s stable and conscious.” Naveen called out for him, a small smile on his face spelled out relief.

Jumping to his feet, he ran towards them, catching the room number from a shouting Naveen, not waiting for anyone. Nurses and doctors moved out of his way, some of them knowing what happened, others having no idea but knowing better than to stand in Dr. Ramsey’s way.

The lights in the room were dimmed, curtains closed, providing privacy and peace. Ethan opened the door as quietly and gently as he could, his stare falling onto Claire immediately. She smiled at him lazily, watching his every move in anticipation. He strode towards her, sitting at the edge of the bed and taking her hand in his, rising it to his lips and kissing it, over and over again, saying silent prayers of gratitude. Tears started running down his cheeks again, wetting her skin, his shoulders shaking as he let out all the emotions.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, choking on her words, her face wet with tears too. He looked up at her, shaking his head.

“No. It’s my fault. I- I somehow attract tragedy. My Mother, Naveen, Dolores… and now you.” She looked at him confused, not understanding his reasoning at first, only seconds later did she remember his thought process, her eyes filling with horror.

“Ethan, that’s none of your fault. I won’t be sitting here, letting you blame yourself for something completely out of your control.” She grabbed him by the sides of his face, hauling him onto her, pressing their lips together and lingering there, connecting them, again and again. “Your Mother wasn’t your fault.” Kiss on the nose. “Naveen wasn’t your fault.” Kiss on the forehead. “Dolores wasn’t your fault.” She kissed both his cheeks, catching his tears.  “I wasn’t your fault, and neither was she.” She cried, her voice getting thick from tears. Her head crooked towards his left, pointing towards their daughter.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” his words stabbed her like a knife that she herself was holding against her heart. She knew he’d ask, but she wasn’t prepared for it, no matter how many times she rehearsed it in her head.

“I didn’t want you to worry.” She explained after a moment, biting her lip in shame. “I thought if I can get through this and not have any complications, you’d never have to find out. Especially with how it ended for Dolores…”

“There isn’t a single thing in this world more important to me than you two. Whatever it is, however hard it gets, I want to be there for you. For both of you.”

Both of them cried silently, embracing each other as closely as they dared, refusing to let the other get away even for a mere inch. Silent comfort, not needing any words, only each other, alive and well.

The soft sound of wailing pulled them out of their little bubble, pulling their attention towards the crib by the bed. Ethan stood up, walking over to look inside, Claire peaking from her position on her bed.

A little girl was staring up at him, her eyes blue and curious. She couldn’t smile yet, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t see how at peace she was. Perfectly fine.

His whole family was perfectly fine.

“Katherine…” he muttered, running the outer edge of his index finger along his daughter’s cheek softly.

“She looks like a Katherine to you?” Claire asked, humor in her voice. He nodded, turning to his wife. “I was thinking of Isabelle.”

“We can compromise.” He embraced her, kissing her head tenderly.

“Katherine Isabelle Ramsey. Perfect.”