#x-ray showed no break but the doctor was like no that’s way too swollen for no break

[raeathnos]

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[tojipie]

˚ ✧ content: first-time parent toji, doctor reader, fluff, brief mentions of injury

“oh— hey! found one more for you down the hall.” a dreaded patient chart is thrust into your arms before you can tell the cheery nurse that your shift is already over. 

“great,” you mutter, tiredly scanning the stack of paperwork as you make your way down the hall. it was way too late for this. 

2-year-old male, already triaged and x-rayed. drove in by his dad about 2 hours ago. nothing too extensive, wouldn’t take more than an hour to get him sent home. 

soft cries greet you at the door to the examination room, a hushed voice— his father— attempting to console the child.

“megs, c'mon. you’re gonna be okay! these are good people.” the older man whispers, sighing as the toddler’s sobs only grow louder.

your knock silences them both, the little boy trying to put on a strong face for you despite the little sniffles wracking his chest. 

the kid is a carbon copy of his dad, donning the same shaggy black hair and big green eyes. the toddler looks up at you hesitantly, long lashes slick with tears.

“see? doctor’s here,” his dad coos, feigning fake excitement as you shut the door behind you. you can hear the quiver in his voice as he says it, anxiety eating away at his composure.

first-time parent you think, cute. always more terrified than the child. always.

“how’s our little trooper doing?” you smile, sympathetic to both their states. the younger boy says nothing, wiping the wetness from his face with his good arm. poor baby.

“fell off his trike in the driveway,” the father explains, shaking his head. he was charming, soft-spoken yet commanding respect. gnarled edges of a scar gracing the side of his mouth.

“can i see? just want to have a better look at the injury site,” you say calmly, snapping on a pair of blue gloves.

“show her where it hurts kiddo,” he asks tenderly, wincing as you take the ice pack off to expose the child’s swollen wrist.  

megumi looks up at you curiously as you examine the injury, exhausted from a mix of pain and sleep deprivation.

 “mama?” he mumbles, idly kicking his feet in his father’s lap.

“no bud not mama.” the older man laughs, clearly embarrassed. you feel your heart twinge just a bit at the adorable show of confusion.  

“no broken skin, the joint is still aligned too.” you say confidently, placing the ice pack back. “likely not a break or a dislocation but i’ll look at the x-rays just so we’re positive, sound good?”

the father nods quietly, hugging his son to his chest.

“his mom was never in the picture, s’ hard handling him alone,” the older man doesn’t follow up on his comment, leaving it at that.

you nod. “i’m sorry.”

“toji,” he mumbles.

“i’m sorry, toji.”

it doesn’t take long for you to go over the blue images. an intact bone stands out against the illuminated wall, not a break thankfully. the stranger catches on soon enough, tension leaving his body at the good news. 

“looks like it’s just a sprain,” you say, pointing to the image. 

“see that kiddo?” he whispers, turning the little boy’s head toward you. “s’ nothing.”

“nofing?” megumi mumbles, clearly too tired to pay attention anymore. shy as a bunny.

“you’re gonna want to ice and elevate for at least the next two days, you should see a full recovery by then but if not i want you to come right back, okay?” you explain.

the father nods, propping his little boy down on the floor as you type out your post-visit instructions.

“say thank you to the pretty doctor megs,” he encourages, chuckling as the little boy waddles over to hug your leg with his good arm. so incredibly tiny. 

pretty huh? you could get used to that.

“fank you.” his sweet voice latches onto your tired heart and melts you from the inside. megumi slumps down against your shoe as sleep takes over, caught under the arms and swept into his dad’s arms in an instant. 

[yourmomxx]

Heyyy omg I saw you looking for criminal minds requests. Would it be possible to request something for derek morgan?? Maybe a protective derek where he's freaking out after hearing that reader is hurt (reader can be bau as well or just regular civillian, it's up to you) and ends up smothering her. Thankyouu so much 🥺💞

a/n: I totally could see Derek Morgan do this, honestly, this is so good. Anon, thank you for your request, I really hope you like how it turned out!

"Derek, seriously, I'm fine!"

"Uh-huh, sure. Tell that to the x-ray the doctor made of your double fractured ankle."

You tried really hard, you did, but at the end, couldn't resist the urge of rolling your eyes.

Derek - your dear, caring, passionate boyfriend, who you loved endlessly (most times) - had acted this way for the past few days. Four, to be exact, four and a half if one counted the day he spent in the hospital with you, not leaving your side even to get coffee.

It had been, a few days ago, that you had broken your ankle.

Fractured, twice.

It happened while you were coming down the stairs, you'd slipped on a patch of the sleek wood and tumbled down the remaining three quarters to the bottom.

It was the most stupid and idiotic way to break a bone, honestly, but it had happened to you either way.

You'd known Derek was out on a case, somewhere in Milwaukee, you honestly didn't remember all the town's names all that exactly, which is why you had satisfied yourself with only sending him a quick text after an ambulance had shuttled you to the nearest hospital.

The doctors had told you that you would be fine, just that they were pretty booked this time of year and your treatment could take longer than usual.

It's why you stayed the night.

When you had woken up the next day, mind still a bit foggy and ankle swollen and hurting more than it would any normal day, you had never expected to actually see your boyfriend earlier than that evening.

But you'd been wrong.

Because there he stood, Derek Morgan, in all his tight-henley, muscular glory, talking with one of the doctors who'd briefed you about your condition the day before, an invested look on his face, just a few feet outside your open hospital room door.

The clinical, white sheets rustled as you straigthened yourself up.

"Derek?" The soft call of his name made your boyfriend look up, just as the doctor stepped away.

A smile played around his lips as he made his way over to you. You were still baffled about his showing-up, when he leaned down and pressed a greeting kiss to your mouth.

"Hey, sweet thing," Derek mumbled.

With a grunt, he sat down in the worn-out, yellow cushion chair and regarded you with deep concern in his dark eyes.

"How are you feeling?"

You tilted your head.

"Like I fell down the stairs and double-broke my ankle not even twelve hours ago."

Derek's mouth left a soft chuckle. You grinned.

"What are you even doing here, I thought you had a case?"

He raised his hands in a defensive manner. "Whoah, now don't be too excited." There was no bite behind his words, or the eyeroll you gave him in response.

"I'm serious, baby," You said. "You didn't have to be here, I'm totally fine."

Derek leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. His gaze didn't leave yours.

"We closed the case about two hours after you sent me that text," He explained. "When I read what happened, I pushed everyone to pack their things just a bit faster than normal, we took the jet, and now I'm here." He opened his arms. "End of story."

You cocked an eyebrow. "How much faster?" You asked.

Derek weighed his head. "A lot faster."

You let out a laugh. "God, you are crazy," You breathed out, cheeks pushing your eyes closed with how wide you were smiling.

Derek reached out and took your hand into his, the warm weight laying comfortable in your palm.

"Only for you, mama."

His hand squeezed yours and you smiled.

Turns out that hospitals were the. worst.

At first the willingness with which all staff was tending you with, it felt like a blessing, for once not having to do the most mundane tasks by yourself - because honestly, who wouldn't want that? - but as time passed by, it all seemed to weigh down on you.

You were practically chained to a bed that wasn't yours, and therefore in no possibility as comfortable as the mattress you were used to. The clinical smell of sanitizer started burning in your nostrils, and your eyes felt blinded by the exact same shade of white that covered every wall, surface, and sheet in your sight.

You almost groaned when a white cast was put on your leg to stabilize it. Derek had just grinned at you and promised to bring Penelope over at some point, with a set of acrylics, glue, and rhinestones.

That's when it had started. The Doctor had told you to rest up for a while, don't put too much weight on your left foot where you had broken your ankle, and come in for regular check-ups.

You should've known then, that you were doomed. Because since you had left the hospital that afternoon four - three and a half - days ago, Derek had not once thought about leaving your side.

For anything.

Any. Thing.

He was being so sweet with it, of course, because Derek Morgan didn't know to be anything else, but over time, having this constant worry hung at you for tasks that should have been the simplest of everyday life was draining, and made you grow agitated.

If you needed to compare it, it felt like being sixteen and your parents checking in on you while you were at a friend's birthday party every hour on the clock, all over again.

You were standing in the kitchen right now, spatula in one hand, the other perched warningly at your hip, a pan on the stove ready to be heated up and a disapproving look on your face, staring down Derek Morgan who stood accross from you with his arms crossed and an almost stronger "Don't try me"-attitude than you had.

Almost.

"Baby," You said, slowly dragging out each syllable. "I understand and do appreciate your concern, but I am fully able to cook lunch."

"The doctor said not to put too much pressure on your foot," Derek shot back. He gestured towards the kitchen island. "Scurrying around for at least half an hour without a break is what I call 'too much pressure'."

The only pressure you were feeling right now was the exasperated groan that you fought back of pushing out your chest.

"I feel alright," You reassured him. "And if I really feel like it's too much, then I'll sit down and take a break."

Derek shook his head. "Will you, though?"

You sighed and put the spatula in an empty space on the kitchen island.

As smoothly as you could, you walked over to your boyfriend, supporting the weight on your unmoving leg by leaning your hand on the kitchenette, as you had discarded your crutch on the other side of the room.

Derek raised his eyebrow at that.

Finally reaching your boyfriend, you put your unoccupied hand on his cheek and let your thumb softly stroke over the stubbled skin.

Derek ever so slightly leaned into the touch.

"I'm just worried 'bout you," Derek murmured quietly.

You nodded slowly. "I know."

You did. And you understood. With all the death and hurt he saw, day by day, night after night, how could he not be?

"But baby, you gotta believe me when I tell you that I can take care of myself. That I know my limits." You gestured around vaguely. "That I can cook lunch for myself and my beautiful, kind boyfriend."

A hushed laugh escaped Derek's chest. His dark eyes found yours and the glimmer in them softened, turned a whirl of worry into a smooth tide.

"You just gotta watch out for you," Derek said. "I know you like to push yourself, don't like admitting defeat."

His hand came to rest on your forearm of the hand that was still tenderly lingering on his cheek. The soft tickle of his thumb drawing absentminded circles seeped through the thin layer of your clothing.

"But taking breaks is okay. There's a difference between being weak and just taking care of yourself."

Derek dipped his knees slightly when he noticed your gaze flashing to the floor, to catch your attention again.

"And I have never, not once in the time I've known you, known you to be weak. Alright, sweetheart?"

The warmth was radiating off his strong body, and infiltrating every single one of your concious senses. Unaware you were doing it, you leaned closer to him. The breeze of his cologne wrapped around you in pure comfort.

"Alright," You said. "Alright, I promise I'll take care."

Derek held your gaze. His fingers pushed a loose strand of hair away from your forehead. "That's all I wanted to hear."

The quick peck you pulled him in for by the neck quickly turned into an open-mouthed kiss, Derek's tongue circling yours for the briefest of moments, before finally gaining dominance.

You attempted to press further into him, but your hard time keeping balance wouldn't allow it.

He pressed one last, small kiss to your nose before backing away.

You smiled at him cheekily, still supporting yourself on the cold stone of the kitchenette, and laboriously turning around to finally get to make the food you'd fought so hard to be able to cook.

"At least let me work the stove."

"Derek!"

[wkemeup]

Graveyard

summary: As the unofficial healer for the Avengers, you pride yourself on the ability to mend heroes with the touch of your hand. Only, your gift comes at a heavy price — one you keep secret from your friends —and when Bucky asks you to do the impossible, they’ll discover why your gift is called a sacrifice, too.  pairing: bucky x healer!reader word count: 10k warnings: canon level violence

As a child, you were told it was a gift; placed upon a pedestal above the quaint suffering of a rural town and removed of your innocence for the good of strangers. You’d been made to be revered – honored – for the touch that could mend the broken.  

It began with a cut upon your father’s finger – a slip of a kitchen knife that had left a small bead of blood in its wake. Curious eyes glanced up at your father as he hissed at the sting of it and you’d reach forward to place your infant hand upon the cut, a grip so mall it barely wrapped around his finger. He stilled as a soft glow began to emit from your palm. When you removed your hand and began to cry, your father was stunned to find his skin perfectly intact – no trace of a scar in its place.  

They told you it was a gift, celebrated you as if you were a blessing from Heaven itself. But they were cruel in their rejoice, selfish in their praise. They had not considered your gift was not a gift at all – but a sacrifice.  

Like energy, pain could not be destroyed— but it could be absorbed. It could be transferred. Your father’s cut had not simply disappeared, but instead manifested on the finger of an infant for a few short moments before it faded into your skin; laid to rest amongst a sea of foreign injuries that did not belong to you.  

“Look sharp, kid! We’ve got incoming,” Banner’s voice startled you from your thoughts as he stood at the doorway to your lab. Arms folded over his chest, an amused smirk upon his face, he must have caught sight of the quinjet landing in the hanger from the windows overlooking the loading dock.  

You nodded, setting down the drill beside the stun absorption pad you were engineering for Stark’s newest suit. You didn't have to wonder long who was on the latest mission and currently on their way to your office, because a familiar bickering began to carry down the hall and into the lab, forcing a smile onto your face.  

For a mechanical engineer, you saw more of the Avengers post-mission than the med wing did these days. You’d been hired for your multiple PhDs and borderline genius IQ, but once you’d rushed across the room to spare Stark from a rather unpleasant laceration on his palm from an experiment gone haywire, your lab had quickly become a rotating door of injured Avengers.  

Sure enough, Barnes and Wilson stumbled their way into the lab, Sam draped over Bucky’s shoulder, barely able to put any pressure on his left leg. While Sam tossed you his charismatic grin and those big, round, puppy dog eyes, Bucky favored to dispose of his partner on the lab table with an aggravated grunt.  

“What do we have today?” you smirked, rolling up the sleeves of your coat as Bruce shook his head in amusement.  

“Broken ankle, I think,” Sam replied, gesturing to the mess of bandages and improvised splint.  

You nodded as you stepped closer, examining the injury before you brushed a hand over the swollen joint. Sam whined at the contact, the pain clearly breaking through the lighthearted grin upon his face though he tried to suppress it. His hand curled into a fist.  

“You know I’m not a medical doctor, but I’d have to agree,” you nodded, planting your hands on your hips.  

“You could just get the x-rays and go through PT like a normal person,” Bucky grumbled off in his corner of the room, narrowing his eyes in warning upon his partner. “She’s not here as your personal healer, Wilson.”  

Bucky was always hesitant of your powers. He never said why, but you wondered most days if he was still seeking penance for the evils he’d committed under Hydra, if maybe he felt as though giving you his pain absolved him in a way he was not worthy of.  

Or perhaps it was a degradation of his pride. Men often found strength in their ability to withstand pain. Though, it seemed to bother him when the others would come to you for injuries like this, too, almost as if he worried they were taking advantage of you.  

He was a good man; certainly, more concerned with your consent in healing his friends than your parents and the town who spent your childhood exploiting you ever were.  

“I don’t mind, Bucky,” you told him, smiling encouragingly back at him until he started to relax his shoulders and uncrossed his arms, softening under your gaze. “If it means less time on the bench and more time out there saving lives and having your back, I don’t mind at all.”

“Yeah, Barnes, who’s going to watch your back if I’m held up in a cast?” Sam teased, chuckling under his breath until Bucky stepped forward and not so subtly bumped his hip to the side of the lab table. The sudden disruption of the table moved his ankle just enough to instantly wipe the grin from Sam’s face.  

“Try to relax for me, Sam,” you eased, stepping forward as you started to remove your gloves. You leaned over the edge of the table, slowly removing the splint and the bandage surrounding the swollen muscle. You handed it off to Bucky as you examined the dark purple and blue discoloration on his ankle.  

He hissed as you laid your palms on his leg, clenching down on his jaw.  

You closed your eyes, concentrating as you felt for the break beneath the surface. A crack splintered through the bone, the surrounding tissue swollen and aching.  

A gentle glow began to emit from your palms, a warmth that spread from your hands and directly onto Sam’s skin, through the muscle, and deep into the bone. You could feel the subtle fragments as they began to mend, the swell in his joint as it shrank, the slight movements as he regained feeling.  

Exhaling a tense breath, you shifted your stance onto your right leg as the pressure started to build in your ankle. It wouldn’t last long, just a few minutes in comparison to the weeks of treatment and months of physical therapy Sam would have endured – an easy trade for a man who spend his days so selflessly on the line in the service of strangers.  

You could sense Bucky watching you and you were careful not to let the pain show on your face. There was a privilege in healing the Avengers like this. It gave your life meaning beyond the injuries of your hometown; of careless teenagers falling off skateboards or angry men in bars who took an argument a drink too far. You’d happily take on a few moments of pain in service of heroes.  

Not that you’d let them know.  

“You should be good now.” You held your hands up, the soft glow fading away from your palms as you tucked your hands into your pockets. Careful of the momentary break in your ankle, you took a cautious step away from the table to lean on the chair at your desk. No one noticed the wince in your expression as you put the slightest pressure on the fresh injury.  

“I will never get tired of that.” Sam looked down at the foot in awe, rolling at the ankle and amazed to find the swelling and bruising disappeared completely. He jumped down from the table, bounding on his feet just to test out the freedom in his mobility.  

“Alright, Wilson. Enough,” Bucky rolled his eyes. “You’re going to hurt yourself again and Y/n’s not going to be so generous next time.”

Sam smirked, pausing for a moment as he contemplated. “Nah, my girl will always take care of me. Won’t ya, sugar?”  

It didn’t slip your notice when Bucky tensed up at the pet name. You started to laugh, the teasing smile dropping from his face as his hands curled into fists. Sam really knew how to press his buttons and it seemed, surprisingly enough, you were one of them.  

“Bucky’s got a point, you know. Fancy healing powers are reserved for field injuries these days.” You were only teasing, both of them knowing you’d have healed a papercut if they’d ask. Still, Bucky smirked, taunting Sam over your shoulder as if he’d won.  

You eased yourself off the chair as you started to regain feeling in your ankle, giving more pressure to the heel to find it barely noticeable. You rubbed at the joint with your right shoe to find the swelling had disappeared as well.  

A few moments to spare him weeks of pain. Easy trade.

“What about you, Sergeant?”  

Bucky paused, raising an eyebrow at you.  

You took a step forward, glancing over him in search of injuries. Nothing more than a few cuts that his own advanced healing would take care of overnight. Still, there was one injury you’d been trying to convince him to allow you to heal in the year since you’ve known him.  

“You going to let me work on your shoulder yet or are you still being a masochist?”  

Sam snickered under his breath as he crossed the room to watch what Banner was doing over his shoulder. Bucky gave you that knowing smile of his, the one that pushed up into his eyes and left behind beautiful creases and lines on his face; an exhale of a laugh on his breath.  

“It’s not necessary, doll. I’m fine.”

A frown tugged at your lips. “You always say that, and yet...”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Bucky shrugged. He was watching you with those sweet eyes of his, creating a warmth that spread in your chest entirely independent of the powers in your hands.  

“You shouldn’t have to handle it in the first place,” you pressed, a pain in your voice as he placed a hand on your shoulder, letting it slide down your arm. It was an intimate gesture, more contact that he had with most people, and he offered it willingly. You tried not to let the shivers show in your spine as he pulled away.  

It looked as though he wanted to say more, but Steve suddenly appeared in the doorway, causing Bucky to take an abrupt step away from you. You hadn’t realized how close you’d been standing to one another.  

“Debrief in five,” Steve ordered, eyeing Sam and Bucky, though paused as he saw you, offering a short smile in acknowledgement before disappearing down the hall.  

“I’m not letting this go, just so you’re aware,” you teased, pointing at Bucky’s shoulder as he started to wave Sam towards the door. He smiled, keeping his back to you until Sam was clear of the room and he leaned into the open frame, one quick glance back at you.  

“Wouldn’t expect anything less, doll.”

***

The next month saw another broken leg, a fractured clavicle, two minor lacerations, a sprained wrist, and a number of superficial cuts – all from various members of the team. Though there was always the one exception who wouldn’t accept your offer no matter how badly he was favoring his right arm.  

The clavicle was certainly a challenge to get through, but the world needed Natasha Romanoff in the field, not strung up on a gurney and a brace for a handful of months. It took longer than some of the other injuries to heal, but you’d managed, even if you had to excuse yourself to the restroom as soon as you’d finished, even if you had to shove a towel into your mouth to keep from screaming as it mended itself together under your skin.  

The truth was you liked being useful. You liked the stunned smiles on their faces and the appreciation in their eyes. You liked seeing them run a hand over perfectly smooth skin where an open wound had just been. It gave you a purpose.  

And sure – your work on SHIELD tech was important and perhaps not all of the injuries in your hometown had been a waste of your abilities, but there was something exceptionally gratifying in mending someone who was untouchable, in healing the people who saved the world.

You’d take a dozen broken clavicles for them.  

It was late after your evening shift and you’d taken to running a few laps on the indoor track around the gym. Blow off some steam, use the state-of-the-art equipment Stark spent thousands of dollars on, give your mind something to think about beside how you were going to rewire Sam’s wings to expand in a more fluid motion.  

You’d just started to break into a sweat when you noticed Bucky setting up at the row of punching bags. The gym was otherwise empty as the sky favored the stars over the sun, and you started to smile as you watched Bucky shrug off his jacket and drop the bag at his feet. He rolled back his shoulders, concentrating on the bag as he readied his fists. But as the first punch hit the bag, the smile quickly fell from your face.  

It echoed up into the rafters, startling you enough to still your sprint abruptly. He let out a grunt as he pummeled at the bag; left jab, right hook, kick, until it broke at the seams and split open to spill sand in heaps upon the ground. He moved on to the next one.  

You clasped a hand to your mouth, looking around the gym to confirm you were in fact alone with him. He’d been on a mission as far as you were aware for the last week. You’d missed him hanging around the lab, asking questions as you worked on new advancements on the stun guns for field agents. He must have gotten back a few hours ago and something clearly went wrong.  

“Bucky?” you called, voice far too soft to be heard across the gym and above the thunderous clash of his knuckles to leather. You jogged a few paces closer, wincing as he threw the entirely of his momentum into a hit that would have broken an ordinary man’s hand. “Bucky? Are you alright?”

But he didn’t hear you. You took a cautious look back at the doors, wondering if you should go find Steve, or maybe even Sam – someone who might know what happened, someone who might be able to talk him down. But you were the only one around. You cleared your throat, stepping up just behind him.  

“Bucky?”

You hit the ground before you knew what had happened.  

A blinding pulsing in the back of your head, the wind momentarily knocked from your lungs, you opened your eyes to find Bucky hovering over you. He held a closed fist in the air, the other digging sharply into your shoulder between his grip, pupils blown wide and dark. It took a moment before he seemed to realize who was laying under him.

“Y/n?” He blinked, confused. His stare flickered to the fist held above your head, knuckles dripping red and bloody, and he pulled away instantly, a flash of horror written over his features. “Shit-- I didn’t... What are you doing here?”

You rubbed at the back of your head, brushing over a slight bump that would certainly mend itself within a few minutes. Slowly, you sat up, careful of the sudden darkness that swept over your eyes, though something cool grabbed onto you before you could fall back against the floor.  

“Hey, come lean against the wall, okay?” Bucky urged, carefully guiding you to adjust your position until you could press your back to the chill of the plastered walls. You sighed in contentment, the pain in your pain already dissipating. Bucky swallowed nervously. “Did I hurt you?”

“I don’t stay hurt for long, Buck,” you told him with a teasing smile, though he did not return it. You set a hand on his forearm, squeezing it lightly before returning it to your lap. “I’m alright. I promise. Are you?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes.

“You were beating that punching bag within an inch of its life,” you clarified, chuckling as you gestured to the exploded bag on the floor, and then to the one still hanging with sand streaming down the seams.  

“Rough mission,” was all he said, his eyes downcast.  

You nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, listening to the soft buzz of the air conditioner and the faint chirp of crickets outside the windows. You didn’t expect him to say anything. Bucky was a man of few words, but you hoped the company was enough. He didn’t make an effort to move away, not even when your thigh brushed against his.  

He was trying to close his fist when you heard him hiss in pain. His right hand was coated in dried blood and fresh, open wounds on his knuckles. They’d barely started to crust over and with every attempt to close his fist, they cracked open, drawing a painful sting in their place.  

“Will you let me heal your hand?”

Bucky paused, setting his hand down on his leg. “Y/n, it’s not necessary. I won’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering,” you countered. “Besides, it is necessary, actually. How are you going to punch the bad guys if you can’t close your fist?”

“I’ve got another,” Bucky argued back, though a smile had etched its way onto his face. He raised his left hand, making a show of it as he curled his fingers into a fist one by one. “This one’s pretty indestructible so...”

“Please, Bucky.” You turned towards him, folding your legs as you held out your left hand for him to take. “Just this once. Let me do this.”

A stormy array of ocean blue and thunderous skies stared back at you, unsure. His eyes flickered down to your hand. Always so hesitant to ask for help, always so reluctant to accept the good things when they were offered. But as he watched you, searching for signs to run, to back out, something softened.  

He swallowed and slowly, placed his right hand into yours.  

You smiled, adjusting your grip gently on his hand. You placed it to lay on you knee as you hovered your left hand over his knuckles. The warm glow illuminated from your palm and Bucky’s breath hitched as he must have felt the sudden rush of energy it produced.  

The scars began to mend before his eyes and just as you felt the stinging prick on your own knuckles, you quickly pushed your right hand into the pocket of your jacket to hide the scars as they formed.  

“That’s incredible,” Bucky exhaled, withdrawing his hand as soon as you were finished. He held it out in front of him, examining the dried blood coated around perfectly intact skin. He shook his head in disbelief. “You’re incredible.”  

A rush of heat burned in your cheeks as you looked away, a smile breaking onto your lips. It was enough to distract you from the stinging in your hand tucked away in your pocket.  

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” you asked, biting on your lip nervously. “Think you could do with the company and I’d like to keep you from breaking more of these expensive punching bags.”

Bucky laughed at that, nodding. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

He stood and offered you his hand, thinking out loud about which one of the movies on his list he wanted to try out next. You pulled your hand from your pocket and took his as he offered it to you; the knuckles already clean and healed.  

***

“You should see it, Fitz! It’s a goddamn stroke of genius.” You held up the ventilator no bigger than the pad of your thumb up to the light, admiring your work.  

“I’m sure Stark will be thrilled,” a thick Scottish accent crackled through the speaker on the com beside you. “Send me the schematics, will you?”

You pursed your lips, a smile etching through. “Think you can one-up me?”

“No never,” Fitz laughed. You could hear him tinkering in his own lab on the quinjet, the small clicks of metal and the buzz of a drill humming over the speaker. “Just want to see if I’m still head of our class or not.”

“Pretty sure we both know that title belongs to Simmons.”

There was a slight pause, then, a dreamy, “yeah, you’re right.”

A sudden knocking at the edge of the lab startled you as you spun around in your chair, nearly dropping the ventilator for Stark’s suit. Bucky stood in the doorway, clutching at his left shoulder as fingers dug into the muscle. He wore a sort of guilty look upon his face though he pushed out a smile and waved.  

“Hey, Fitz, I’ll call you tomorrow, alright?” you said over your shoulder to the speaker, waited a moment for his response and ended the call. You turned back to Bucky as a smile grew upon your face. “What can I do for you, Sergeant? I didn’t miss movie night, did I?”

“No, you’re in the clear,” Bucky chuckled, though it was tense. He stepped further into the lab, relaxing a little as he noticed no one else was around. It was pretty late for you to be working, but you were so close to finishing the ventilator, and well, time easily got away from you with Fitz on the other end of the phone.  

“Coming to keep me company then?” you teased. “I’m actually about done anyway, so we could set up the next movie on your—”

“No, I— um...” Bucky started, losing his nerve rather quickly. He exhaled a tense breath, eyes casting down to the floor. “I was, um, wondering if you could work on my shoulder?”

You raised an eyebrow. Even after that night in the gym, Bucky was still hesitant to your offers to heal his various injuries from the field. He’d give you that sweet smile of his, a soft pink in his cheeks, and tell you that he’d be fine on his own. You never doubted that, but it didn’t mean you couldn't spare him just a few hours of that pain.  

“The, um,” Bucky winced, gritting his teeth as he pushed his hand deeper against the tissue, “the nerve endings are acting up. Shuri said it’s to be, uh, expected given how Hydra butchered my arm all those years ago, but...”

“Come here.” You were already removing the files and paperwork from the table, gesturing for him to take a seat.  

His whole left arm was slack at his side as if he could barely tolerate to move it. Shallow breaths hitched in his lungs as he leaned against the table, settling against the hard, metal surface.

“Can you take this off?” you asked, nodding to his shirt. Bucky’s cheeks flushed and you cleared your throat nervously, playing with the ends of your hair. “It’ll be more effective if I can touch the area directly.”

He removed his right hand from the muscle at his shoulder and gripped at the hem of his shirt. Slowly, he started to pull it over his head, though you could tell from the harsh exhale in his breath that it was causing him considerable pain.  

“Here, let me help you.” You stepped forward and helped ease the fabric up his torso and gently guided it off his right arm, over his head, and eased it down his left. He seemed more at ease with the shirt removed, but a chill swept up his spine in the cool air of the lab.  

You kept your eyes on his, determined not to let your gaze fall to the hardened muscles on his chest and stomach.  

“I won’t be able to heal the scars,” you told him as you moved around to stand behind the table. “Just try to relax for me, okay? I’ll do what I can for the pain.”

Bucky nodded, his hands clenched into the lip of the table, enough to warp the surface. He could barely muster out a response.  

“My hands are a little cold, so...” you muttered out nervously, rubbing your palms together in an effort to warm them.  

Then, you set your hands against the mess of scar tissue surrounding his shoulder, starting at his shoulder blades as the glow illuminated bright enough to light up the corner of your lab. Bucky gasped, the first breath in a long time completely filling his lungs as he felt the relief within your touch. You could practically feel the tension melting off his shoulders.  

It didn’t take long before the pain made its way to your body. Starting out slow, in numbing aches, until it was so sharp, it felt like a dozen edges of sharp blades puncturing into your shoulder. You clenched your jaw, held your breath, thankful that Bucky couldn’t see your face when you bit down on the inside of your cheek and tears sprung into your eyes.  

“God, that... shit...” Bucky sighed, his grip releasing on the table. You could hear the smile in his voice, the relief, and it helped to push aside the pain as it manifested in your body.  

You moved your hand up his back, sliding along the scars where his skin met metal, taking as much of his pain as you could. Bucky was exceptionally strong, able to withstand far more than you could without passing out completely. You couldn’t take it all, especially if you wanted to keep him from knowing how your gift truly worked, but you took enough.  

You swallowed back the lump in your throat, preparing yourself as you moved around to face him. There was more on his chest, by his clavicle, you couldn’t reach from behind him. You'd had years of practice, learning how to keep the pain from displaying on your face. You could get through this for him.  

As you stepped in front of him, keeping a steady hold on his shoulder, you could feel his eyes watching you. The glow under your palms was bright enough to illuminate the lab, but it was a gentle light, as soft as the burn of a candle or the golden rays of a sunset. Bucky watched you with a kind of awe that made your stomach twist into knots.  

You guided your hand along the scar tissue on his chest, doing your best to ignore the goosebumps as they rose in your wake. Your heart was stammering, louder than the pain radiating in your shoulder, though it lessened the more you worked. The pain had nearly left him entirely as he started to take in more even breaths, relaxing his muscles as you felt them soften under your touch.  

You exhaled a tense breath through your nose, concentrating on gathering as much of the pain as you could, on mending the broken nerve endings as they misfired and frayed under the torn appendage. You barely noticed as Bucky crossed his right hand over his chest and laid his hand palm against your hands.  

“Thank you,” he whispered, his fingers curling around the undersides of your hands until he gently tugged them away. The glow faded until the lab was only lit by the soft light of the lamp at your desk and the reflection of the moon peering in through the window.  

You met his eye, the pain still prominent in your shoulder though you forcibly softened the clench in your jaw as he looked over you. His eyes flickered down to your lips for only a second, but it was enough. Your heart skipped.  

Bucky slowly released your hands, letting them fall gently against his thighs, as he leaned forward to cup the sides of your face. Fingers tangling into your hair, you stepped closer, pressed against the table between the parting of his legs.  

You wondered if he could feel how fast your heart was racing, or if he could hear it, because you were certain it was going to beat straight out of your chest. The fading pain in your shoulder you’d taken for him was nothing but a forgotten memory as he pressed his forehead to yours, just waiting.  

The moment his lips touched yours, you lost your breath; fireworks and butterflies, twists in your stomach and clamoring in your heart. You could feel his smile as it spread into his cheeks, your hands seeking more of him as you slid them up the sides of his bare chest. He was beautiful and perfect and so incredibly wonderful, you’d take hours of his pain, years even, if you could keep kissing him like this.  

“Hey, Y/n, I thought you were already done for the—oh, sorry!”

You jolted away from Bucky, restless and a little disheveled, Bucky’s cheeks flamed red, as you turned to find Banner standing awkwardly in the doorway. His hand was shielded over his eyes, his back quickly turned to you as papers littered the floor at his feet. You started to laugh, hand clamping over your swollen lips as you looked over at Bucky.  

“It’s no worry, Bruce,” you giggled, quickly skating over to the door to help him pick up the files. Bucky meanwhile shrugged his shirt back on, fixing the flyaways in his hair.  

“So sorry,” he mumbled again, clearly embarrassed by his intrusion as he glanced over at Bucky apologetically. He gathered the papers into his arms. “I’ll be going now and, um, I won’t come back, okay?”

You couldn’t help but laugh as Bucky’s eyes blew wide in Banner’s quick escape.  

“Still want that company?” you offered with a smile, extending your hand to him. The pain was long gone from your shoulder as he shook himself from the flush in his cheeks and nodded. He took your hand and led you down the hall to the living room. There was another movie on the list to get through.  

***

You couldn’t remember the last time you were this happy. Your cheeks began to hurt from how often you were smiling, as if it were a permanent fixture on your features. You’d even caught yourself humming along to the radio as you dusted the surfaces in your lab the morning after Bucky had kissed you goodbye on the landing dock in front of at least a dozen agents.  

He’d been away on a mission for the last few days, but he called when he could. You’d spend whatever spare minutes he could get on the satellite phone with him, distracting him from whatever was going on in his end of the world with talk about your latest project with Stark or old stories from the academy with Fitz or what the next movie on the list was going to be.  

He wasn’t a man of many words, but you liked knowing he was on the other end of the line. You could picture his smile perfectly in your mind, the way he chewed on his lower lip, how his eyes fell downcast to the floor by your shoes, the flush of pink in his cheeks. It was enough.  

“So, things are really heating up with you and Barnes,” Natasha commented as she sipped the top of her steaming coffee before it could spill over the edge. You shrugged, though it was hard to contain your smile. Natasha grinned. “I think it’s good for him. You, too. Don’t know the last time I’ve seen him this happy. He seems more relaxed. Like maybe he’s not carrying the whole world on his shoulders anymore.”

“Helps when he’s not in excruciating pain on a daily basis,” you added, tapping at your left shoulder. He’d let you work on it a few times since that first night. It always took some convincing, but the pain was never as bad as it was that evening. You could take it. You’d do it a thousand times for him without question.  

Natasha nodded, a pleased look upon her face. She parted her lips to say more, but a sudden commotion at the end of the hall stole the words from her tongue. You set your coffee down on the counter, peering out around the tables to find agents jumping out of the way of an oncoming train.  

“Y/n!” Bucky shouted, voice breaking in the effort as he sprinted down the hall and slammed into an unsuspecting agent. Papers flew into the air as he sprinted towards your room. “Y/n!”

“Bucky?” you called stepping out into the hallway where he could see you.  

He skidded to an abrupt stop, his hair flying over his shoulder as he turned in your direction.  

“Y/n! Thank God.”  

It wasn't until Bucky stood in front of you that you realized he was covered in blood; soaking into his hair, caked under his finger nails, drenched into his suit, and stained to his skin. Your eyes widened, breath all but leaving your lungs, as your hands clutched against his jacket. He tried to pull you back towards the stairs, but you couldn’t budge, not with that much blood all over him.  

“What-- What happened? Are you hurt?” You started seeking out exposed skin an effort to draw away any pain you could, even if you couldn’t see any exposed wounds.  

Bucky's hand slid over yours, pulling it away. He softened, though you could still see the frantic rise and fall of his chest.  

“It’s not my blood. It’s Steve’s.”

Your stomach sank; relief mixed into an ugly shade of guilt and grief. Natasha was already sprinting down to the med bay, coffee mug cracked and spilled upon the tile floors. Her footsteps echoed through the hallway, the sudden clanging of the double doors startling you from your daze.  

“Please, I—I need you,” Bucky begged, his voice shaking. Tears were burning in his eyes. You’d never seen him this afraid; this shaken and helpless. “It’s not good, Y/n. He’s-- He’s--”

“Okay.” You pressed a hand to his cheek, brushing your thumb sweetly across his face and smeared the tears as they cleaned the dried blood away. You didn’t need to hear anymore. All you wanted was to take his pain, even if your gift couldn’t touch it as it nestled deep into his heart.  

By the time you reached the med bay, a storm of chaos had already barreled through. Lab equipment was knocked over on its side. Dozens of agents frantically running around, shouting orders at one other. Papers and schematics lined the floor with imprinted of boots damaging the print. But it was the trail of blood that drew your attention.  

Droplets trailing from the loading bay of the jet to down the med wing to the surgical room. Dark red and oozing. Taunting. Far too much for any ordinary man to have lost. You tried to stifle the gasp as it hitched in your breath the moment you saw him.  

Steve was strung up on a gurney, suit cut down the middle and flayed open, exposing his chest and the three bullet holes expelling pints of blood. The hands of several agents were pressing down onto him, trying to keep pressure on the wounds, deep red slipping out from between their fingers. The look on their faces said enough – he wasn’t going to make it.  

“Where’s Helen?” you gaped, staring at Steve.  

“Ten minutes out.” Tony stumbled into the room as he rounded the corner, holding a stat phone in his hand. “She’s in the chopper.”

“He can’t wait ten minutes.” Bucky gripped tight to you hand and you could feel the tension radiating in his muscles. You wanted to take it for him but he pulled his hand before you could, turning to face you. “You’re all we have. Y/n, please. I can’t lose him.”

Bucky had never once asked you to heal someone like this. He could barely muster the will to ask you to heal his own wounds, to ease the constant stream of pain in his shoulder, and the open wounds on his hand. But with Steve’s life in the balance, he didn’t have room to be hesitant anymore. He couldn’t risk his best friend’s life.

But he didn’t know it would risk yours in the process.  

You swallowed, glancing back nervously at Steve. “I’ve never healed anything this bad before, Buck. I don’t know if I can--” survive this.  

Could your body heal fast enough to take on his injuries? Could you do them one by one? Would he live long enough to even try? Would either of you?  

“Y/n, please. He’ll die without you,” Bucky begged, his voice wavering. Tears reflected in his eyes; gentle pale blue obstructed by a swarm of fear and guilt and desperation, a redness straining into the surrounding white until his cheeks were wet. The dried blood cleared in streaks as they traveled down to his jawline.  

You watched him as he bit down onto his lip, shielding his face from the others as he waited. The frantic beeping of the monitor strapped to Steve’s chest was growing frantic, irregular, and you knew there wasn’t much time left.  

The worst you’d ever attempted to heal before had been the stabbing of a stranger. You’d found her clutching stomach in an abandoned alleyway in Queens, contents of her purse spilled to the pavement, jewelry torn from her neck. You'd knelt down beside her and took her pain without so much as a second thought.  

As her wound began to close, your skin split open, blood soaked into your shirt, your vision grew dark and hazy, until it was nothing at all.  

The last thing you remembered of that night was the horror in the woman’s eye as she scrambled away from you and ran back to the safety of the open streets. You woke in a pool of your own blood hours later – longer than it had ever taken to heal before.  

A scar remained on your stomach from that night. The only one on your body. A warning.  

Test the limits of your gift again and learn why it’s called a sacrifice.

But as you looked back at Bucky, at a man who never dared to ask you for anything until it was unbearable, who wore his own scars and healed his own injuries in fear of exploiting your gift, who was impossibly gentle for the evil he was surrounded in for decades – you couldn’t find it in yourself to say no. You didn’t want to.

Bucky must have noticed the change in your expression because his shoulders softened immediately, a heavy sigh sinking through his body. He pushed forward and pressed a quick kiss to your lips; short, chaste, and still—filled with a world of emotion, of gratitude, of relief. It gave you the courage to do what needed to be done.  

Tony began to shout for the room to clear the moment you approached the table. You stared down at Steve, whose skin had grown nearly translucent, the monitor above displaying his heart beat as it evened out to a nearly thin line. He was fading fast. You wouldn’t have much time.  

Everything around you became muted, distorted, as you channeled your focus; the huddled whispers of the agents hovering over Steve with their hands pressed to open wounds sounded as if they were miles away.  

Bucky stood at your side, watching anxiously though he tried his best to remain stoic and unaffected, though you knew he was splintering apart at the seams. Natasha and Sam were huddled in the far corner, talking quietly amongst themselves as they tried to put the pieces together as to what happened out in the field. Tony was shooing away stay agents with the threat of force, while Banner did his best to remotely disengage the power on Tony’s glove.  

None of it registered. Not beyond the flow of blood coating Steve’s chest and dripping onto the floor, your shoes stepping into the pool below. It was a miracle he was still alive at all. The serum was the only thing tying him to this Earth.  

You stretched out your hands, hovering over his chest and the agents quickly dispersed. You didn’t dare steal a glance in Bucky’s direction as the glow began to emit under your palms, afraid he might see the goodbye in your eyes or the apology for what he was about to witness. There wasn’t time.  

The pain was sudden. Sharp. Like you’d felt the bullets rip straight through you as if you stood on the battlefield in Steve’s place. You cried out at the impact of it, nearly thrown from your stance as you clutched into Steve’s body.  

Bucky jolted beside you, startled as you cried out again, desperate to choke down the screams before they passed your lips. He stared at you, wide eyed, as you clenched your jaw.  

“Y/n? Are you—”

Another scream tore through you and Bucky visibly flinched. You didn’t have the energy to hide the pain from him, not with three bullets tearing through you. You had to save Steve; put the full force of your power into healing his wounds before they consumed him whole. Damn the consequences. Damn the sacrifice of your gift.  

Your body was always meant to be the host of broken bones and bullet wounds and bruises. Made to be broken and mended. A host to others. A graveyard of injuries that did not belong to you.  

It was what your parents had told you from the time you were a child; that you were a gift to others, that you were a vessel to better the world. But it came at a price; one, it seemed, you’d soon enough pay.  

Your legs began to shake as a wave of darkness cast over your vision, tunneling, consuming the space around you. You could only vaguely make out Bucky’s voice calling your name, his tone laced confusion and concern, but you blocked it out. Daring to look in his direction now would only hinder your resolve and you needed to save Steve’s life.  

Concentrating your power, a scream ripped through your lungs as the glow illuminated the entire room, enough that Bucky was forced to shield his eyes.  

The wounds were taking hold on your body. One at your stomach. Another along your ribs. The third, just above your chest. Exit wounds opening on your back. You could feel the drip of blood as it slid down your skin; thick and unrelenting.  

You were growing light headed as the pain started to dissipate. But the wounds were still fresh on your body, still open and bleeding; the pain shouldn’t have faded so quickly.  

The steady beep of the monitor indicated that Steve was stabilizing, the flesh had nearly closed, and you barely registered Helen’s voice as she rushed into the room, ordering her team to take over.  

“Hey, hey, you did it, sweetheart. You did good,” Bucky exhaled. He had the most beautiful smile on his face; filled with a sense of pride an awe, stunning and handsome beyond belief, even with traces of concern still evident in his eyes.  

But you were stone. A statue. You couldn’t move without fear of collapsing completely.  

“He’s stable now, Y/n,” Bucky eased, trying to pull you gently away from the table. “Come here, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

Bucky hand set against your stomach when you didn’t follow and he froze; the sticky wet residue of fresh blood on his hand. He stared down at his palm in horror as the blood began to seep through your shirt in three distinct spots, all perfectly aligning with the ones on Steve’s chest.  

Bucky darted forward, pushing up your shirt to find the wounds he’d seen healed on his best friend moments ago littered over your stomach. His mouth went dry, throat lined with sandpaper, rocks shoved down into his lungs. His hand trembled as it reached out and touched the bullet wound on your ribs. His breath hitched as he felt the warmth of blood and the tear of flesh in your skin.  

He couldn’t breathe.  

“Is Steve alive?” Your voice was barely a whisper and you wondered if Bucky could even hear you at all. His eyes were glossed over in fresh tears, lips parted in shock as he stared back at you. You could hardly keep your eyes open.

Before he could respond, your legs gave way and you stumbled back out of Bucky’s hold. Your vision was closing in, a dark cloud of black swarming around you as your foot caught on the edge of toppled lab equipment. You were in Bucky’s arms again before you made it to the floor.  

You didn’t hear him screaming for help, didn’t hear the shattering crack in his voice, or the crash of equipment behind you as Simmons raced into the room. You didn’t feel his hands as they desperately pressed onto the open wounds, or the heat of his breath as he begged you to ‘stay with me, sweetheart’. But you felt the warmth of his embrace.

It was comforting as the darkness pulled you under.  

***

A heaviness draped over you. Soothing. Pressing you into the soft cushion below. A repetitive chime rang above; even in tone, consistent. It drew you back from the kind embrace of shadows, calling you toward a flicker of light.  

Pressure squeezed at your hand. Cold and warm at once. Solid and soft.  

You listened for the chime; allowed it to guide you as the rest of your senses awakened.

The chatter of voices in the distant too muffled to distinguish. The distinct smell sterilizing alcohol that burned in your nose. The heat of a thick blanket tucked around your legs. The chill of a breeze streaming from the humming vent above. Scratchy bed sheets and laundry fresh clothes a few sizes too big for your frame.  

You groaned, trying to adjust to the influx of light as you opened your eyes. It was a room you recognized. White. Clean. Far too bright. You’d been within the walls dozens of times before, but never laid upon the bed. It was a strange view.  

Glancing down, you found yourself dressed in a dark grey t-shirt that didn’t belong to you. The logo was faded on the chest but it was still recognizable. Vintage. An eagle at the center of a circle, it’s wings remarkably similar to the symbol of the Howling Commandos. Around the edge: Strategic Scientific Reserve. You’d seen Bucky wear it until the hem frayed. Sure enough, as you reached for the bottom of the shirt, you found the split seams.  

A slight squeeze on your hand again drew your attention to your right. There, you found Bucky hunched over the side of the bed; both hands encasing yours, his forehead rested on the very edge of the mattress.  

A smile tugged at your lips until it started to ache. Unused muscles, must be. You wondered how long you’d been out this time. Must have been longer than a few hours. Bucky’s back would need your attention after the way he’s been sleeping.  

“Bucky,” you tried to call, but found your voice was nothing more than a breath of air. You winced, testing it again. “Bucky?”  

He only hummed in response. The sweet vibrations nestled against your arm. It took him a minute as he lifted his head, stretched out his upper back, matted hair fallen down into his face, before he caught your eye; glancing around the room, checking the door, the heart monitor above, like it had become routine, until he realized you were watching him.  

He froze, eyes wide. “Y/n?”

You nodded sleepily, pushing out a smile. “What’d I miss?”

Bucky didn’t laugh. His hands were still gripped tight to yours, squeezing at them as if he were checking to make sure you were real.  

Your smile began to fall the longer he stared at you. “How long was I out? Is Steve okay?”

Bucky cleared his throat, nodding, though it seemed strained. “Y-yeah, Steve’s fine. Doc said he’d make a full recovery thanks to you.”

“That’s good,” you replied, but Bucky couldn’t so much as force a smile. He couldn’t seem to look at you, his hands playing with the lines in your palms. It was then you started to notice the dark circles under his eyes, the wrinkles in days old clothing, the hallowed look upon his face. Your stomach sank. “How long was I out?”

Bucky’s paused for a moment, his movements stilling as he traced your lifeline. He sighed, resuming again. “Six days.”

“Oh.”

A silence swept over the room. You’d never been under that long before. Frankly, you were a little surprised you woke up at all given the extent of Steve’s injuries. Your fingers dipped under the hem of Bucky’s old t-shirt and grazed over the bullet wound on your ribs, feeling for the raised edges of a fresh scar. It didn’t heal, as you suspected the others hadn’t; laid to rest next to the knife wound from the woman in the alley. Injuries you were never meant to survive.  

“Were you ever going to tell us?”  

You looked up, startled by Bucky’s voice as it wavered. He brushed at his eyes; red and glossy.  

“Were you ever going to tell me?”  

“No,” you admitted and Bucky’s shoulders slumped. He sank back further into his chair and you could read the disappointment on his face. You gritted your teeth, preparing to deliver the same speech you’d been telling yourself for years. “My body could handle it, Buck. It was only a few minutes of pain to trade for weeks or months of your own. It kept you in the field and off the bench. The world needs you guys. It was worth it for me. I could handle it.”

“Until you couldn’t!” Bucky snapped, startling you as he tugged his hand from your grasp and began to pace around the room. His fingers raked into his hair, gripping at unwashed strands. “You almost died, Y/n! You almost died because I fucking begged you to use your powers to save Steve and I—Jesus, Y/n — if I had known what it does to you, I never would have asked you to do that!”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you,” you replied gently, wanting nothing more than to ease him. Bucky shook his head, unwilling to accept your answer. “Bucky, if you knew that healing a papercut hurt me, you wouldn’t let me do that either.”

He paused; arms folded over his chest though he wouldn’t look at you. “No, I wouldn’t.”

You softened, sitting up in the bed, though a dull pain rushed made it rather difficult, leaving you to clutch at your stomach. It ached as you moved, an unfamiliar feeling, and the tension quickly faded from Bucky’s shoulders when he heard you whine.

You pushed through the pain in your stomach, holding up a hand as Bucky started to step forward to help you. It would fade. It always does. You’d heal and move on, until the next injury came through. It was routine. It was your life.  

So, you told him as much.  

“I’d do it again.”

Bucky frowned. He looked like he wanted to just lay on the bed beside you, curl up against your chest and sleep. He was exhausted. And still—he couldn’t let it go.  

“You almost died—”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

“A sacrifice?” Bucky’s face contorting in horror. “Are you insane? You're not a sacrifice, Y/n!”

You nodded, determined; the words of your parents, the village elders, ringing in your ears. “That what this gift is, Bucky! I can’t actually heal anyone other than myself, but I can transfer the injuries and the pain to my body. That I can heal. It’s what I was born for! It’s my purpose. I was made to be a sacrifice.”

“Not for me!” Bucky held his ground, voice firmer than you’d ever heard it. “Nothing is worth that to me! Do you understand that? I won’t trade your life for anyone’s, not even Steve’s, and I sure as hell don’t care how many bones I break or how bad the nerves in my shoulder misfire. I won’t put that on you again. The team won’t either.”

You clenched your jaw, heart starting race. No one had ever challenged you on this before. No one had ever questioned whether your gift should be used at all. No one ever seemed to care of the effect it had on your body, never thinking to look past the extraordinary abilities to the mutilation under the surface.  

No one until Bucky.  

You curled your hands into the thin sheets at your waist. “Bucky, don’t be ridiculous. I’m saving you all from weeks of unnecessary healing. I can handle the pain. It’s an easy trade for—”

Bucky’s fist met the wall. “You’re worth more than just a vessel for our pain, Y/n!”  

“What the hell is going on in here!?” Helen Cho rushed into the room, eyes darting between Bucky standing by the corner of the room, shaking out his hand, and you as you laid in the bed at the center, the heart monitor above pulsing far too quickly.  

Bucky seemed to notice the frantic beeping of the monitor and the anger quickly drained from his face.  

Helen glared at him as she stepped closer to you, beginning to check your vitals. “You should leave,” she shot over her shoulder. Your stomach twisted to knots as Bucky nodded defeatedly and walked to the door.  

“No, don’t--” you called, voice small, nervous. He paused in the frame, glancing back at you with a raised eyebrow. “Please, Bucky. Stay.”

Helen set a hand on your shoulder as if to ask if you were sure. You nodded.

“You may be able to heal yourself, but you’re still recovering,” Helen advised, tapping on the IV drip. “Take it easy, alright?”

Bucky remained stoic by the door after Helen left. He didn’t say anything for a while, his eyes focused on the tile floors at his feet, waiting until the heart monitor chimed in even, steady counts.  

“Will you sit down? You’re making me nervous,” you chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. It got him to look at you, at least. While he couldn’t muster a smile, it was clear he was drained of the anger that had quickly taken hold of his body; anger that was never once reserved for you, but for the voices in your head that deemed you unworthy of more than a body to be used by others.  

Bucky sank into the chair at your bedside.  

“When’s the last time you slept, Buck?”  

He stayed silent. It was enough of an answer. You didn’t dare ask the last time he left this room, not with the shiny reflection at his roots and the red strained in his eyes. Six days at your bedside, hunched over on a cold, unforgiving chair, clutching your hand. It ached deep into your bones.  

“I mean what I said,” Bucky mumbled, slowly brining himself to meet your eye. He reached out for your hand, letting the comforting chill of solid metal lay below as the warmth of flesh and muscle laid on top. He brought your fingertips to his lips and gently kissed at your knuckles.  

You sighed at the feeling. “Bucky, I...”

“You’re more important to us than your abilities,” he pressed, a sincerity behind his words and laced delicately into sweet shades of blue. “You do a lot of good to keep us safe with the tech you’ve been building and the adjustments to the suits. You’re incredible at what you do, Y/n. Your worth isn’t based on how many injuries you can heal or how much pain you can handle. We care about you. I care about you. Isn't that enough?”

You didn’t know.

You’d never known anyone to prioritize you over your gift. You parents had exploited it from the moment it was discovered your ability; showing you off, treating you as an idol to be worships and adorned. They put their child through broken bones and lacerations and asthma attacks. They sat back and watched as you healed strangers of arthritis and sprained ankles and migraines. Their child cried as they collected their winnings.  

Were you afraid it would happen again? Is that why you kept it from the team? From Bucky? You’d convinced yourself it was noble to silently suffer in their place, but you started to wonder if it amounted to little more than your parent's words whispered into your ear: your ability is a gift to the world, a sacrifice unto yourself.

“Would you ask any of us to suffer in your place?” Bucky questioned, drawing you from the mess inside your head with the gentle vibration in his voice.  

“I just want to help you...” you murmured, tears slipping past your cheeks.  

Bucky reached forward and brushed the tears as they fell, sliding his hand against your cheek and nestling against your hair. You leaned into the touch.

“So, we find a middle ground, okay?” Bucky offered, smiling enough to push into his cheeks, though his eyes were still heavy. “No trivial injuries. No life-threatening injuries. We take the stuff in-between case by case.”  

“Your shoulder,” you added, determined. Buck started to shake his head but you pressed harder. “Five minutes of pain to spare months of yours, Bucky. No lasting damage. Don’t argue with me on this one.”

It brought the smile back to Bucky’s eyes as he eventually nodded. You knew he had no real authority to decide what injuries you could and couldn’t heal, but you’d never had anyone who dared to put you first. You trusted him to do that; you trusted him more than yourself, anyway.

“We decide the rest together,” you told him. “I get the final say but... I need you to tell me if I’m pushing it too much, but I won’t be too cautious, either. No discriminating against Sam.”

“No promises,” Bucky chuckled, playing with the ends of your hair dreamily. “The other stuff I can deal with.”

“Okay,” you exhaled, relief sweeping through your body.  

“Okay.”

“Think I’ll be lucky if anyone on the team even lets me touch them for a few months after this ordeal, though, huh?” You laughed and though it ached in your stomach, it was considerably less than it was moments earlier. You didn’t mind the dull pain. It was familiar, almost a comfort. Steve was alive because of it.  

“Yeah, can’t say anyone was thrilled to find out how your powers actually worked,” Bucky chuckled. “But they’re happy you’re alright. I’m sure Steve will be, too. He was pissed when he woke up and learned what you did.”

You clenched your jaw. “Never good to be on Cap’s bad side...”

“No, it’s not,” Bucky agreed, wide smile pressed to the back of your hand, his lips touching over exposed skin. “He doesn’t like when anyone else pulls a self-sacrificial move. It’s kinda his thing. Diving into the Atlantic and all. We don’t really need two of you running around...”

“Alright, alright,” you laughed, swatting Bucky away. Your cheeks hurt from smiling, the pain in your stomach long forgotten, or maybe it had finally healed. You supposed it didn’t matter.  

They were scars that would never heal. Like the knife wound. Like mesh of hardened tissue around Bucky’s shoulder, stretching out onto his chest and back. Reminders of when you were too both close to the edge, to the brink of darkness. Reasons to push back towards the light.  

read the sequel here!

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

[coldflame96]

Break My Fall

Summary: An unexpected fall and the terror of being a parent sometimes. 

Rating: T (only for Kyo’s tendency to swear)

Also found on AO3 and FF.net

The anime is in the middle of angst and I made the mistake of reading Another and crying about my faves so here’s some family fluff. 

Hajime loved going to the park. Normally, he would go by himself with some kids he met down the street, but today, he was with his dad and little brother. Mom had gotten called in to work and it was a nice day. They were in summer break so there was a lot more people than normal, lots of kids closer to his brother’s age. 

“Daddy, watch me!” he heard Kazuya call from his perch on top of the tube slide. His dad was sitting on the bench, smiling. “Alright, I’m watching!”

Kazuya slid down the (short and boring in his opinion) slide and then immediately hopped over to their dad like an overeager puppy. “Did I do good?”

Dad chuckled and ruffled his hair. “You did good. I’m proud of you.”

Hajime snorted quietly to himself. Four year olds got so excited over the smallest things. Was he like that when he was four…?

“Daddy, look!” He heard his brother call out again. “Nii-san’s so high!” And then Hajime looked down to see his younger brother waving at him. “Hi, Nii-san!”

He didn’t respond but gave a small little salute. 

His dad narrowed his eyes. “Hajime, what are you doing up there? You know you’re supposed to go down the slide, right?”

“Well, yeah, but going down is boring.” He shrugged. “I like it up here.” He’s always liked being in high places. 

“You need to come down.”

He pouted. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to fall and hurt yourself.”

He rolled his eyes. He wasn't a baby. Not like his brother. “I won’t. I come up here all the time with my friends.”

“Stop arguing and come down,” his dad snapped. “You’re setting a bad example.” And then he gestured to Kazuya, who was looking up at him with wide, shining eyes. 

He sighed. “Ugh, fine, geez.” And then he shifted where the first ledge was. “But I'm telling you,” he muttered, “I’m not a baby and I’ve never fallen from here.” Another step. “It’s not even dangerous and-” His foot slipped on the angle and...he was grasping at air. 

And then he hit the ground with a crack, face planting in the grass. 

And just as he was about to try and push himself up, he felt it. The white-hot searing pain through his arm. 

And he started screaming. 

Kyo couldn't even tell you what happened. One second, his eldest was talking back to him while climbing off from the tube slide, the next second, he’s hitting the ground with a sickening thud. And now Hajime is screaming bloody murder and Kyo’s heart is leaping through his chest. 

He practically teleports over to his son, rolling him over gingerly, cupping his cheeks. 

“Hey, hey, hey, look at me” he tries to shush gently. 

“My arm!” Hajime sobs out. “My arm hurts!”

HIs arm was currently covered by his other hand, so Kyo couldn’t get a good look at him. He gently tried to pry the fingers off, but Hajime just screamed louder. “NO IT HURTS!”

“I know but I need to look at it!” Hajime was starting to hyperventilate now, and they were definitely drawing a crowd, much to his annoyance. He grabbed the boy’s cheeks again. “Hey, I need you to calm down, okay? Look at me.”

It took a few seconds, but eventually his son managed to match his breathing with his own, but the tears were still streaming from his brown eyes. 

“Do you trust me?” he asked softly. HIs son nodded. “Okay,” he began slowly. “I need you to move your hand.”

Hajime’s eyes widened in horror. “But it hurts!” 

“I know but I can’t help you until I see what’s wrong.”

Hajime, like a cautious animal, moved his hand from his lower arm, and Kyo winced at the damage. It was already swelling, that wasn’t a good sign. If he had to take a guess from his many accidents as a teenager, it was probably broken. But just to be sure…

“Can you move it?”

“I-” Hajime sniffled, “ I can try.” Kyo watched as he attempted to move it, but then he stiffened in pain, eyes welling up, shaking his head frantically. Not something he could just walk off then..dammit. 

He sighed, “Alright,” he stood up, “let’s get you to the hospital.” And then feeling the eyes boring into his skull, he turned around and glared at the onlookers. “What are you all staring at?!” he growled. “Mind your own business!”

He heard a few women mutter about him being ‘rude’ and rolled his eyes. They were the rude ones, Just watching him and his kid like they were some sort of circus spectacle. 

Hajime was sitting in the grass, still holding his wrist, and Kyo grabbed him from under his armpits. “You can walk, right?” His son nodded. “Alright, then.” He held out his hand to his other son. “C’mon, Kazuya, we gotta take your brother to the hospital.” The younger one grabbed his hand obediently and clung to his shirt as they started walking towards the car. 

“Daddy,” Kazuya asked, looking up at him with those huge puppy dog eyes that he definitely got from Tohru. “Is Nii-san okay?”

He threaded his fingers through the fine, fiery locks. “He’ll be fine. He just hurt his arm, so we have to go to a doctor and make it better.”

The little boy had a dazed look, like he wasn’t quite processing what Kyo was saying, but then like a lightbulb, his eyes lit up and he gave a determined nod. “Good luck, nii-san!”

“Thanks,” Hajime muttered through gritted teeth. 

He helped Hajime in the front seat, careful not to jostle his arm. 

He couldn’t believe he was saying this. But this was one of those times where he wished he still lived with the Sohmas and had Hatori on call. 

They’d been waiting for almost an hour since they got here and he was getting impatient. And hungry. Hajime refused to meet his eyes and Kazuya had attempted to play with both of them, but had seemed to sense the sour mood and was now just sitting quietly next to him, occasionally swinging his feet and humming. For a kid that was basically his clone, he was really nothing like him at all and had a much more carefree attitude like his mother, which Kyo was not so secretly grateful for. With the little stormcloud over Hajime’s head, he was glad for the positivity as a buffer. 

He heard the door open and a friendly, but tired sounding voice call out, “Sohma-san?”

He stood up abruptly, nodding at his two sons. “C’mon, boys.”

She led them down a narrow hallway until she sat them down. “Just have a seat, gentleman, and the doctor will be with you shortly. 

“Great, more waiting,” he heard Hajime mutter irritably and even though he shot him a warning look, he couldn’t help but agree. It was starting to get late and he didn't have lunch. 

He heard a stomach growl that wasn’t his and then a small voice said shyly, “Daddy, I’m hungry.”

Me too, kid. He checked his watch and grimaced. Tohru would be getting off work soon. 

“I have to call your mother,” he mumbled to both boys. 

Hajime got a panicked look. “Is there any way you could not tell her where we are?” He paused. She would probably freak, but he already fucked up enough by letting Hajime get hurt in the first place...

“No, there isn’t,” he said flatly, as the call started to go through.  

“Kyo-kun!” she greeted happily like always and he felt that rush of affection. 

“Hey, Tohru,” he tried to greet casually. 

A pause. “Is something wrong?” He should’ve known he couldn’t get anything past her. Time to bite the bullet. 

“Sweetheart, don’t freak out, but I had to take Hajime to the hospital today and-”

“What?! Hajime-kun’s at the hospital?!”

“He hurt his arm, but he’s fine. I just wanted to tell you so you wouldn’t worry when you got home.”

Another pause. “I’m coming right away.”

He straightened at that. “Wait, Tohru, you don’t have to-” And there was the dial tone. So much for that. 

“Mom’s gonna kill me, isn’t she?” Hajime asked sadly, the first thing he’d really said to him directly since they left the park. 

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, kill you with love and concern, maybe.”

Hajime huffed. “Why’d you have to tell her? She’s gonna show up now and she’s gonna have that disappointed look and she’s probably gonna cry. I can’t handle it when she gets like that.”

He resisted the urge to snort. That makes two of us. 

But before he could tell his son to ‘suck it up and deal like everyone else’, the doctor walked in. 

“Sohma-san?” they asked to confirm. He nodded and they clapped their hands together. “Ahh, good. So which one of you boys is Hajime-kun?”

Kyo jerked his chin towards the older one who stiffened in his seat as the doctor pulled a chair to sit in front of him at eye level. 

“Hi, Hajime-kun, I’m Doctor Tanaka.”

Hajime mumbled shyly, “Hi, Tanaka-sensei.”

“You’re here because you hurt your arm, is that right? Can I have a look?” They reached for Hajime’s arm gently, but he jerked away. 

“Hajime…” he started to scold, but the doctor put a hand up. 

“It’s alright,” they said, voice soothing. “I promise I’ll be gentle. May I?”

The boy slowly and cautiously uncovered his arm and reached it out, wincing as he did. He watched as Tanaka tutted at the arm, which was completely swollen and bruised now. “You had a bit of a nasty fall, didn’t you? Can you move it at all?”

Hajime shook his head. Tanaka grimaced. “I’m going to apologize ahead of time. I’ll try to be gentle.”

Hajime frowned. “What do you-” and then he got cut off by a hiss of pain as Tanaka squeezed his lower forearm area. Kyo’s protective instincts kicked in at seeing his kid in pain, but he had to tamper them back. Tanaka was a doctor. They were trying to do their job. And what right did he have to question them when he let his kid get hurt in the first place? They paused in the wrist area, and frowned, turning to him. “I’ll need to do an X-ray to get a visual of what sort of injury we’re dealing with.”

“Do whatever you have to,” he responded. 

“Alright then” They smiled gently. “Come along, Hajime-kun. I'm going to show you our laboratory.”

Kyo made to follow, Kazuya holding his hand and when they were halfway down the hall, someone who sounded suspiciously like his wife shouted out, “Hajime-kun!”

They all turned around and saw Tohru only 20 feet away, panting and sweating like she just ran a marathon, face stricken and hair blown wild.  Did she run here?!

Hajime looked panicked though. “Mom, I can explain-”

Tohru was kneeling in front of him, stroking his cheeks. “What happened? Are you okay?” Hajime flinched away as she accidentally bumped his arm and she paused, eyes widening in horror. “Your arm…” she started tearing up. “What happened?”

“I fell.”

“Fell…?” Her eyes somehow managed to get even wider and Kyo knew he should step in before she worked herself up. 

“Oi,” he bonked her on the head gently. “Did you really leave work to come all the way here?”

Her eyes flashed fiercely. “Of course I did! My baby boy got hurt!”

“Mom, please,” Hajime pleaded, cheeks heating up. 

Kyo put his hands on her shoulders, which were stiff with tension. “He’s fine.” No thanks to me. “We were just on his way to get his X-ray taken.”

“X-ray?” she said in a small voice. 

Kazuya let go of his hand and went to go tug on her uniform shirt. “Mommy, I’m hungry.”

That seemed to have done the trick. Like a switch, she went from Panic Mode to Mom Mode and Kyo would never not be impressed by how she did that. She knelt in front of their youngest.. “When’s the last time you ate, Kazu-kun?”

“I dunno. A while.” His tummy rumbled again and Kyo looked away in guilt. 

“We got a bit caught up here.”

She nodded in understanding. 

Tanaka cleared their throat. “If you’d like, there’s a cafeteria down the hall.” They smiled at Kazuya. “No point in keeping the little one waiting.”

He watched Tohru worry her lip between her teeth, looking back and forth between him and Hajime. 

“We’ll be fine. Why don’t you take Kazuya to the cafeteria? And get something to eat for yourself too. You haven’t eaten since breakfast, have you?”

She blushed, which was exactly the reaction he wanted from her and he smirked. 

“But you haven’t either..” she tried to argue feebly, but it had no effect when she resembled a tomato. 

He grabbed her shoulders, forcefully turning her. “I’ll be fine. I’m not even hungry, anyway.”

His stomach chose that moment to grumble in protest and he got four skeptical looks in response. He rolled his eyes. “Just go already. We’re holding up the line!”

She still looked unsure but she finally relented. “Come on, Kazu-kun, let’s get some lunch!”

“Yay!” Kazuya cheered and Kyo slumped in relief. And Tanaka, looking more amused by the interruption than annoyed, plowed forward. 

Hajime had a defeated look and he swallowed down the bile. 

The x-ray didn't hurt at all and had even been kind of cool. Tanaka-sensei brought him and Dad back to the original room, leaving them alone to get the results. He saw how his dad was being so much quieter than normal, jaw clenched, and knew he probably was in trouble. He attempted to lighten the mood. 

“So, uhh,” he started, “Thanks for getting Mom off my back.” He loved his mother of course, she was his favorite person if he had to pick, but it was a bit awkward when she got all sad. Made him feel like he kicked a puppy. 

His dad finally looked at him, stern. “What were you thinking?” 

He huffed. “Well, I didn’t fall on purpose.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He turned to look at him clearly now. “What were you thinking going on top of there in the first place?”

“Well, all the other kids were doing it and-”

“So because someone else’s dumb kids were doing it, you had to?”

He bristled in defense. “I’ve never fallen off before.”

“You fell off today. Why do you think we’re here?”

“Well, that’s-” he blustered, “You distracted me! It was the only time!”

“All it takes is one time, Hajime. What if I hadn’t been there? What would you have done?”

He blinked, unsure. “I-”

“And what if your brother had followed you up there and fallen? Then what?” Hajime felt the shame start to roil in his gut,” his dad continued, “And what if you had broken something else? Like your neck? Then what?!” 

“I-” he breathed and then burst out, “Well, I wasn’t thinking about that!”

“You weren’t thinking at all,” his dad finished off. “You’re 10 years old, you have a little brother who looks up to you, and I can’t watch you 24/7 anymore. You have to think about these things.” And then his voice softened, “If something happened to you, I don’t think I would ever forgive myself.”

The shame was in full force now and for the first time, he noticed his dad’s hands were trembling. 

“Were you…” he hesitated to finish the question, “scared?”

He expected the man to deny it because Hajime didn’t think he’d ever seen him scared of anything before, but he just mumbled softly, “Of course I was.”

Hajime felt his heart leap through his throat. His dad was the strongest guy he knew, and he managed to scare him…

“Dad,” he called out softly. “I-”

Just then the door opened and Tanaka-sensei came in holding some papers. “Alright, gentlemen, I have good news and bad news.” Dad sat up in attention. “The bad news is that Hajime-kun’s wrist is fractured.”

“What’s the good news?” Dad asked cautiously. 

Tanaka-sensei grinned. “Well, it’s a nice clean break, so it should heal up with no trouble at all so long as Hajime-kun behaves himself.”

They set the pictures down on the desk and sat in front of him again, looking very serious. “I have to set your wrist before I can put your cast on. I’m sorry but it’s not going to feel very good.”

Dad reached out his hand. “Squeeze me as hard as you need to. It’ll be over soon.”

After a painful process which consisted of a lot of gritted teeth and squeezing his dad’s hand until it was white, his wrist was sitting comfortably in a sling. 

“So how long do I have to wear this thing?” he asked curiously, already put out. 

“So long as you don’t attempt to do anything strenuous, your wrist should be healed enough in about 6 to 8 weeks. Until then, you should keep it in the cast and sling as much as possible.”

He frowned. He was only gonna have one arm? “How am I supposed to like get dressed and stuff?”

They gave him a sympathetic look. “It will be a challenge, but I’m sure your parents would be willing to help you.” They looked at Dad who nodded. 

He felt his cheeks heat up. They would have to dress him? “I can’t do that!” he argued, “That’s so embarrassing!”

“Too bad,” his dad said flatly. “You should’ve thought about that before being an idiot.”

He looked away in embarrassment. 

His mother chose that moment to come back, Kazuya in tow, and she squeaked a bit when she saw his sling. 

“Oh, your poor arm,” she put her hand on her chest. 

Dad grabbed her wrist gently. “Did you eat?”

“A little,” she said, “I wasn’t that hungry.” And then she perked up. “Kazu-kun ate a bunch though!” Her eyes twinkled. “He really takes after you.”

Dad rolled his eyes, bringing her closer to him. 

Kazuya, bored by their parents' antics, came running to him. “Nii-san, what is this thing?” And then he poked the cast. 

“Oi, don’t touch,” he scolded. Kazuya cocked his head. 

Tanaka-sensei clapped their hands. “Great, you’re both here! That makes this easier. I just need to go over a few things with you if you don’t mind.”

Hajime thudded his head lightly against the chair. He just wanted to get out of here. He was so hungry!

Tohru put the pot on a low simmer. She ended up starting dinner later than usual because of Hajime-kun’s accident so she settled for making a curry instead. 

Today has been a bit of a rollercoaster. She was glad Hajime-kun was okay, of course, that was her pride and joy, but Kyo-kun had seemed...tense. She’d noticed it the minute she’d found them in the hospital. He’d made himself a bit scarce since they got home, maybe she should check on him. 

Satisfied that her pot wouldn’t boil over, she popped the lid on and made her way to their shared room. 

She half expected her husband to be taking a nap (old habits died hard), but he was just sitting on their shared bed staring off into space, which was never a good sign. 

“Kyo-kun?” she called, making sure not to spook him. She watched as his sharp eyes flitted to her, and she deemed it safe to sit next to him, immediately getting a strong arm slung around her waist to pull her in against his side. 

“Everything alright?” she tried to gently coax him, which sometimes was all it took. 

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I’m just thinking..” he said absently. This time it wasn’t. She had a hunch she knew what he was thinking about though. 

“Hajime-kun told me what happened,” she said innocently. “He said he’s really glad you were there.”

Something flashed on Kyo’s face and he slumped and she knew she said the right thing. “He only fell because I distracted him.”

She knew that tone. That was the tone he used when he was blaming himself. “It was an accident, Kyo-kun. No one could’ve predicted what would’ve happened. Maybe he still would’ve fallen even if he wasn’t talking to you or maybe he would’ve.”

“It’s just-” he sighed, “Maybe if I’d noticed sooner he was up there, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“And maybe it would’ve anyway.” She played with his fingers around her waist. “You shouldn’t blame yourself for something you don’t have control over.” And she rested her head on his arm.  “You were there and that’s what matters, right?” 

She felt a kiss to the top of her head and he grumbled, “Would’ve been cool if I could’ve caught him before he landed.”

She giggled. “You’d be like a superhero.” He stiffened and she looked up to see him lost in thought. “Kyo-kun?”

He blinked. “Oh, sorry.” He chuckled. “I was just reminded of something someone said to me a long time ago.” And then he got a flat look. “I’d be a pretty lame superhero.”

“Well, you’re already the perfect one to me,” she said sweetly. 

To her delight, he got a light dusting of pink on his cheeks. He was still so shy sometimes and it was adorable. 

She felt a light rap to her temple. “Don’t you get tired of saying sappy crap like that?”

She grinned. “Nope! Never! I mean every word.”

“Of course you do,” he mumbled. 

She snuggled in to him. “You’re my hero and Hajime-kun’s and Kazu-kun’s and we’re all so lucky to have you.”

He looked genuinely touched at that and she knew it was the right thing to say. He leaned down to kiss her, just like they’d done millions of times before and it never got old. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he sighed out, his gaze making her melt and he kissed her forehead sweetly. She noticed something out of the corner of her eye and she smiled. 

“I think someone wants to talk to you,” she pointed towards the door, where an embarrassed, blushing Hajime-kun stood.

“Um, Dad?”

Kyo-kun cocked his head in interest and Hajime-kun blushed deeper, avoiding their eyes. 

“I’m sorry. I ruined everyone’s day and caused problems because of my own clumsiness. I was being an idiot and it won’t happen again.” Tohru frowned. She wanted to protest to that because of course her son wasn’t an idiot, but it was probably for the best if she didn’t. Hajime-kun clenched his uninjured fist and his face got pinched like he was trying not to cry. “When I fell, I-” he said in a tight tone, “I was really scared. I’m really glad you were there.” He finally looked up, eyes watery. “You have every right to be mad at me.”

Kyo-kun’s face, which had been neutral but open before, softened into unabashed fondness. 

“C’mere,” he patted the spot on the bed next to his other side and Hajime-kun wasted no time sitting next to him and burying his head in his dad’s shoulder. 

Kyo-kun squeezed him tighter and kissed the top of his hair. “You know I love you, right?” Hajime-kun nodded mutely, giving a small sniffle to imply that he was more emotional than he wanted her to know about. She smiled gently, wrapping her arms around both of her boys, careful not to jostle her son's sling. 

“Mommy?” she heard a small curious voice chirp from the doorway. Not wanting her youngest to feel left out of the cuddlefest, she reached out a hand and he gasped, practically jumping on top of both her and Kyo-kun in his excitement. 

“Oi,” Kyo-kun grunted, “You’re heavy.”

Kazu-kun looked sheepish. “I’m sorry, Daddy. Did I hurt you?

A flash of something playful crossed Kyo-kun’s features. And then he grabbed his chest dramatically, falling back on the bed with a thump. “Ahh, I’m hurt! Can’t believe this..my own flesh and blood!”

Kazu-kun’s eyes were so wide and innocent, which he did not get from her and she had the baby pictures of her husband to prove it, courtesy of Shishou.

“Hang in there, Daddy!” Kazu-kun said with complete sincerity. “I didn’t realize I was so strong. Can I help?”

Kyo-kun peeked from under his arm. “You wanna help?”

Kazu-kun nodded earnestly, and Tohru bit her cheek in amusement. She knew what was coming….

“Come closer,” her husband whispered.

Kazu-kun, the sweet, innocent boy that he was, listened and Kyo-kun pounced, tickling his sides and tackling him down, both of their laughter ringing like beautiful bells in her head. 

Hajime-kun rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide how his lips twitched as he scooted closer to her. 

“When was dinner supposed to be ready? I never got to eat lunch.”

She put an arm around her boy. “Oh, don’t worry! Dinner should be ready in-” and then she jolted as she remembered. 

She jumped up, shouting in alarm, “Oh no, the pot!”

And then she ran out, almost tripping on her way to the kitchen as she turned off the stove, giving a huge sigh of relief that her curry didn’t boil over (it was really close though). Hajime-kun had followed her cautiously. 

“Can I help with anything?”

She felt a rush of affection. Like herself and Kyo-kun, Hajime-kun seemed to enjoy cooking, and he already was so good at it at such a young age. 

“That’s okay!” She rejected him gently. “You’re hurt and I don’t want you to strain yourself.”

He frowned in displeasure and she felt just a little guilty. She certainly didn’t want him to feel bad for getting injured, but there really wasn’t much he could do with only one arm. 

“Why don’t you go check on your brother? Make sure your father didn’t wear him out too much?” He didn’t look completely satisfied with that, but he was a good boy, so he nodded and left. 

No sooner than he was around the corner, Kazu-kun came running, a flash of orange and then went between her and the counter. 

“Kazu-kun? What’s going on?”

“Don’t think hiding behind her will protect you,” Kyo-kun stomped in, eyes blazing, and Kazu-kun squeaked in fear. 

Briefly she wondered if Kazu-kun got into trouble, but she saw the way Kyo-kun seemed to be holding back a laugh and relaxed. 

“Kazu-kun~” she said sweetly to the boy hiding in her legs. “Dinner’s ready. Why don’t you go sit at the table?”

That did the trick as Kyo-kun turned his attention to her instead while their son scurried off. “Do you need help carrying anything?”

Curry was a really easy meal and didn’t really require much. She wanted to dismiss him gently like she did with Hajime-kun, but...he was just standing there, always so handsome and looking at her like she was the only person to exist. They’d been married for over a decade but she still sometimes marveled at how this was her life. She wrapped her arms around his waist and relished in how he immediately wrapped his strong arms around her in response. 

She pressed her head to his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat and not for the first time, was so incredibly grateful that she was able to hold him like this. For her first two years of knowing him, it wasn’t possible. 

Kyo-kun stroked her hair. “Something wrong?” Like always, he seemed to know when she was getting lost in her thoughts. 

She shook her head. “I just love you.” He hummed in response, and she forced herself to let go. “Help me with the plates?”

A quick peck to her hair. “Sure.”

And she watched with increasing love as Hajime-kun tried to fight off Kazu-kun

“Nii-san’s hurt!” He tried to grab Hajime-kun’s spoon, “Let me help!”

Hajime-kun put a hand on the younger boy’s forehead to hold him in place. “I don’t need help. I can eat on my own.”

Kyo-kun smirked and grabbed a spoonful, holding it up. “Here, open wide.”

Hajime-kun bristled. “I’m not a baby!”

She giggled at their antics. They were a rowdy bunch, but she really loved them. With all her heart. 

She put a hand on top of her stomach. She had been planning on telling them today...

“Mommy?” Kazu-kun asked. “Are you coming?”

She saw three pairs of eyes looking at her with concern. 

“Of course!” And took her spot next to her husband, who gave her a soft smile. 

She loved them all so much. 

Maybe she could tell them tomorrow...

[ransomedrogue]

Tales of Woe - Scenes from S1

oops, meant to get this out before Monday but minor delay due to editing! 

this week - a scene to start the episode and one to end it...

1.3

Weller's emotional rollercoaster of a day started before the previous one had even ended - with a phone call just before midnight.

He hadn't been home all that long after wrapping up the Gibson case when his cell began to ring and he saw that it was an agent from Jane's detail. That alone flicked at his anxiety, making him flash back to the fear he'd experienced seeing her crashed car. Then, when the agent started describing what had happened at the safe house, Weller's blood pressure instantly shot through the roof and he almost walked out the door in just his PJs before he realized he needed to bring his badge and gun.

Rushing to the scene, Weller only managed to resist breaking numerous driving laws by constantly reminding himself that Jane hadn't sustained any serious injuries and was currently chaperoned by multiple FBI agents and cops. Yet he was still much too aware that those same agents had just let a guy sneak into her safe house and it was entirely possible that she would already be dead if that had been the man's goal.

Ice cold dread ran through Kurt at that thought. He could have lost her again, so soon after finding her. Even if they hadn't tested her DNA yet, he was sure that she was Taylor, somehow brought back to him after twenty-five years away.

Pulling up to the scene at an unreasonable pace, Weller saw that it was already getting busy with more agents arriving and the coroner showing up to deal with the body. He flashed his badge to get past the yellow tape and immediately started scanning until he saw Jane sitting on the couch, scowling at the paramedic trying to look into her eyes with a penlight.

"Ma'am, you've been hit hard enough to lose a tooth and your pupils are still dilated. I really recommend that you come to the hospital and get examined by a doctor."

Instead of arguing with the EMT, Jane saw that Weller was approaching and gave him an exasperated look. And suddenly he was transported back to a moment forgotten for so long that he hadn't known that it was still there.

In his memory Kurt was nine and crouching in front of an annoyed four-year-old, doing his best to put antiseptic on her scraped knees as she rolled her eyes at him and complained.

"It's not even bleeding, Kurt," she'd groaned, desperate to get back to the game they'd been playing. "You're such a worrywart."

Weller remembered the internal pressure he'd felt, babysitting his wild little neighbour. It had been a responsibility he took pride in and he'd hated having to tell Emma that Taylor had hurt herself again, attempting some stunt. Or, even worse, explaining that he'd stepped on Taylor's hand, causing her to fall from the tree. Not that Emma had ever blamed him for any of the bruises and cuts; instead, she'd always reassured him that it was all part of an active childhood. Still, he'd been the older one, the one in charge. So he'd always felt like it was his fault if Taylor hurt herself, no matter what anyone else said.

Looking at Jane now, he felt exactly the same way. He obviously couldn't protect her, not even with the power of the FBI behind him. And failing in his duty made him angry and anxious; overprotective to the extreme.

Kurt flashed his badge and told the paramedic that he could go, explaining that he would deal with Jane and make her see a doctor. The EMT exhaled in relief as he walked away from his stubborn patient and Weller took the man's place, standing in front of Jane, who was still seated on the couch.

She looked tired yet agitated, sitting there holding her swollen cheek. He could see that it was already bruising and Weller internally flinched as he imagined her getting hit hard enough to knock out a tooth.

"I knew him," she said immediately. "He's the man from my target training memory. The one that was outside the building before we almost got blown up. He knows me and he was following me. We have to find out who he is."

"Whoa, Jane," Weller replied, crouching down to look at her more closely. "Slow down. We will do everything we can to find out who that guy was and how he's connected to you. And I do want to know exactly what happened here. But first, tell me are you okay?"

Jane looked a little startled by his question, as if she'd completely forgotten about everything else while fixating on the dead man in her safe house. Then she glanced down at her hand on her cheek and wrinkled her nose.

"My face hurts. But otherwise I'm fine," she muttered.

"You still have to get checked out by a doctor," Weller said. "He must have hit you really hard."

Jane brought her hand down from off her jaw and gave him an irritated look.

"It's been a long day, Weller," she groaned. "I really don't want to go to the hospital."

Weller flashed back to earlier that day, having the same argument with her after she'd crashed the SUV. He'd pretty much guilted her into it then. But right now Jane sounded so tired and on edge that he didn't want to battle with her.

Yet it was clear she needed to see a doctor and at least get some x-rays of her jaw. So Kurt thought the issue through until he arrived at a solution that could placate both of them, even taking the time to figure out how best to present it to his recalcitrant patient.

"Well, you can't stay here," Weller finally said. "It's a crime scene now. We'll find you a safer place."

"And you need to be cleared by a doctor before you can come back out in the field with us," he added. "That's standard protocol."

Jane's frown deepened and she exhaled wearily. Weller could hear that he'd chosen the right selling point - she was desperate to stay involved with the case and be out on missions with the team.

"So either I take you to the hospital right now or you pack up some stuff and we go to the NYO. You can sleep in the medical bay until the doctor gets there in the morning to check you out."

Jane gave him a long look that indicated she knew exactly what he was doing. Yet, for once, she didn't argue, just giving him a tired shake of her head instead.

"Okay, I'll see the doctor at the NYO," she sighed.

Weller held back a grin at her begrudging response and offered her his hand. Jane gave it a long suspicious look before grasping it and letting him pull her up to her feet.

The drive to the NYO was silent, even though Kurt was full of questions. He desperately wanted to know everything that had happened that night but knew that it wasn't the right time to ask. Jane was quiet and obviously still shaken from what had happened; so Weller decided to leave his questions for the morning, after she'd been seen by a doctor.

As they neared the office, Kurt glanced over at Jane once more. He had thought her silence was due to her own head being full of questions too, or continued stubbornness about getting medically checked out. But it turned out that she'd just fallen asleep now that all the adrenaline had fled her system, her head lolled back against the headrest so the bird tattoo was perfectly exposed.

He had never before met such a vibrant, tenacious woman. And even though he had no proof yet, Weller knew in his bones that she was Taylor. He'd gotten her back; been given a second chance. And this time, he wasn't going to let anyone hurt her.

Again he glanced over at his sleeping charge, feeling a warm tickle spread through him as he realized how relaxed she now looked. All the tenseness she'd been wearing at the crime scene was gone as she murmured inaudibly and leaned in his direction.

Weller resisted the urge to reach over and brush a wayward strand of hair out of her face, forcing himself to focus on the road. Yet he still found himself looking to his right far too often, as if his eyes were magnetically drawn to her.

It was impossible but he believed it with every cell in his body.

She was Jane and she was Taylor.

And most of all, she was his to protect.

###

Jane's emotional rollercoaster of a day ended with two solid answers; yet her head was still full of questions as she stood there, clinging onto Weller's arm.

After all that arguing with Weller and Agent Reade's open questioning of her role in the investigation, it had been a major relief to be told by Mayfair that they had all supported her being armed and part of the team. Jane was sure that Weller had pulled rank with his agents to get that kind of unanimity but she hadn't even had time to really thank him for backing her before Patterson showed up and gave them the other, unbelievable, news.

She was Taylor Shaw. Weller's neighbour, who had disappeared without a trace twenty-five years ago.

Jane stared at him and he stared right back. She watched a wave of joy pass through Weller's expressive blue eyes and felt his elation ripple down her spine as well. Not only had they finally found out something concrete about her, it tied her intricately with Kurt and explained his name being tattooed on her back.

For a moment Jane wondered if it was normal, how much Weller could make her feel. She'd spent most of the day being furious with him for keeping secrets and refusing to let her participate fully out in the field. But then he'd insisted on going with her to the hospital, despite Agent Reade's vocal objections. Which had paradoxically made her feel both protected and nervous, because it was clear that Reade had touched on the truth.

Then, as soon as they were in danger, he had given her a gun without hesitation, fully trusting her to watch his back. Which had been a good thing, considering how close he'd gotten to having a full round of ammunition pumped into him, point blank. Even as it was, Jane had almost been too late - she'd seen the gunman's trigger finger moving just as she shot him dead.

The relief she'd felt seeing Weller alive was as fierce as any emotion she'd experienced yet. And then there had been a whole new set of feelings after he told her he thought she was his childhood friend, the little girl who went missing when he was ten. That revelation had finally put the entire day into perspective, completely flipping her understanding of his behaviour.

The argument with Mayfair. His sudden overprotectiveness. His blow up when she disobeyed his order and put herself in danger.

Weller had been under such immense personal pressure. She wondered how long he'd been thinking of her as Taylor. Clearly it had been influencing his actions all day.

Jane flushed a bit remembering how furious she'd been with him during his tirade about protecting her. At least she wasn't angry with him anymore. That hadn't felt good at all.

So much was running through her mind that Jane suddenly realized they'd been standing there for ages, just holding on to each other and staring silently. Patterson had left somewhere along the way and it now was just the two of them, with the mind-blowing piece of information hanging between them.

Weller's eyes were still teeming with an emotion she couldn't quite identify. She could see that he was fighting to contain himself now that his suspicion had been confirmed.

Jane flashed back to him telling her that she could trust him, that he'd been looking for her all his life. It made her feel warm and a bit tingly, to be to closely tied to Weller. But there was also pressure to being the girl he'd sought for so long - to mean so much to a man she barely knew, a man who already made her feel everything so strongly.

"Are you okay?" he asked, finally finding his voice.

"Yeah," she replied slowly. "It's just… how is this even possible?"

Weller shook his head, a look of wonder still in his eyes.

"I don't know," he said.

"But we will figure it out. We're going to find out what happened to you."

He sounded so sure but Jane was realizing that getting answers had only opened up an onslaught of new questions. If anything, being Weller's childhood neighbour made the whole situation even more confusing and implausible. Also, what had Casey meant by Orion? Was that a clue to where she'd been taken after being kidnapped at age five?

The wave of questions was about to engulf her when Jane felt a squeeze on her elbow and remembered that Weller's hand was still on her arm. Looking up at him, she suddenly felt drained from everything that had occurred in the past day. She'd barely gotten any sleep after the attack at her safe house and then had an extremely emotionally and physically taxing day.

"Hey," he said, studying her closely. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Jane shook her head. She needed some time to think before she asked him any more questions.

"Okay then, how about some food?"

She furrowed her brow at him, confused by the abrupt change in topic. But Weller was just giving her his usual warm concerned look, like he hadn't said anything out of the ordinary.

"I bet you haven't eaten all day," he added. "It's been over twelve hours."

Food was the last thought on her mind, especially after such an intense day. But, thinking about it, she realized that he was right on both counts. And then, precisely at that moment, as if her body was in collusion with Weller, Jane's stomach growled.

Weller grinned at her and Jane swore she even saw a twinkle in his eye as he slipped his hand down her arm until his fingers were entwined with hers.

"Well, that settles that," he said. "Let's go get something to eat."

"Weller," Jane muttered, unsure about his proposition. Going to a restaurant with Weller sounded both enticing and nerve-wracking. Especially with everything that had happened between them that day.

"It's fine, I'll order in later."

"No," he replied sternly. "We're going together and I'll take you to your new safe house after. We won't talk about any of this until tomorrow. But I want to make sure you eat some real food."

Jane's instinct was to argue and push off his concern. But then she remembered the sadness in his eyes as he'd told her about his little neighbour, how he'd been there the night she was taken.

Weller wanted to protect her. And as much as it was sometimes irritating, it also made her feel safer knowing that he was looking out for her so fervently. So maybe it was okay to let him care a bit too much, especially when it felt so good to have his fingers laced between hers.

"Okay," she sighed, giving his hand a squeeze.

She didn't yet know what to say, or how she felt about being his missing girl. But Jane did want him to understand how she was grateful for everything he'd done for her already and for how much he cared.

"Thank you," she finally said, offering him a timid smile. "For everything."

"I'm so glad you found me."

[billiejs]

Request Julie and the phantoms are on tour and juke dating , one stop on tour Luke gets sick  (woke up with fever, swollen glands, sore throat etc) and doctor diagnoses him with strep and ear infections and Julie takes care his stubborn butt back at the hotel because he doesn't like to let down the fans since they have to cancel few shows.

Here you go anon, thanks for the promp! Julie and the Phantom Drabble, 1.1k, Julie/Luke, very vague angst and very vague mentions of death

“I’m fine, I swear!” Luke sniffs noisily, trying to force himself up from the tour bus bunkbed Reggie is all but restraining him onto. 

“Yeah, a ray of sunshine.” He grunts, keeping him down so that the doctor has access to his throat. 

Julie bites her lip, standing behind the doctor. Luke looks feverish, his cheeks are pale and his nose is red and snotty. The dark bags under his eyes could carry all of their instruments to the next venue they’re supposed to play at. She hates seeing him like this, and her chest tightens the same way it does whenever she’s confronted with sickness. Even after all these years, she can’t help but feel as powerless and scared as when she was standing beside her mom in her hospital bed. 

“Strep throat, ear infection.” Doctor Jameson declares with a sigh, tugging on her stethoscope. “A minimum of two days of complete rest is mandatory.” 

Luke’s face is the exact reproduction of Munch’s Scream, if Munch had wanted to portray a twenty years old rockstar faced with existential dread. 

“What?” He shrieks, his voice breaking painfully and making him explode in a cough attack that sends Reggie zooming to the end of the bed. Alex, ever the anxious germaphobe, is peeking from behind the closed curtains of his top bunk bed. “Guys, we can’t! We have two shows in a row here!” 

“We’ll reschedule.” Julie bends down so she’s at eye level with him. “You can’t perform like this, Luke.” 

Luke isn’t just upset, he’s heartbroken. 

“No way,” he shakes his head resolutely. “Doctor, can’t you just give me a Vitamin B shot or an IV or something? We have to… to…” 

He starts coughing again, so hard that he gets teary. Julie feels the back of her own eyes begin to prickle as her stomach constricts painfully. She’s not good with sickness and she knows it, but seeing Luke in this condition is something she wasn’t prepared for.  

“You have to rest.” Doctor Jameson’s tone is final. “If, and I repeat, if you feel better tomorrow afternoon, I may give the green lights for tomorrow night’s show. But only if you rest completely and then keep resting for the two days after that.” 

“Sounds good,” Alex chirps from behind his curtains. “I’ll tell Flynn to prepare a post for the fans.”

“No!” Luke tries to protest, looking at Julie with pleading eyes she wouldn’t normally be able to resist. “Jules…” 

“We’re staying in a hotel tonight.” She replies. “You need to rest.” 

“Book one with a pool!” Reggie pleads, stretching his arms out. Luke has betrayal painted all over his face. 

“I really don’t get how you can be so chill about this.” 

Luke stutters five hours later, buried under two soft five-star hotel duvets and still fighting against shudders that run up and down his body. 

Julie sits cross-legged by his side, Luke’s prescriptions in one hand and the sheet with the doctor’s instructions in the other. She pops three different pills in her hand and hands them to Luke, who makes a show of looking offended as he swallows them down without the help of water. Then he makes a pained face because his throat still hurts. 

Julie loves him, she does, but when he acts so childish she would happily smack him in the head with Alex’s drumsticks. 

“None of us is casual about this.” She replies. “We don’t like canceling a show either. But your wellbeing is more important than any show ever, Luke.” 

All she can see of her boyfriend is his eyes peeking from the duvet, and his hair sticking to his forehead. He still manages to look defiant. 

“Some might say that my wellbeing is directly proportional to the time I spend on stage.” 

“Some might say that you’re an idiot,” Julie levels him down with a stare. “Oh, wait. That’s just me.” 

Luke would normally laugh at something like this, but all he does now is sigh heavily and avoid her eyes. 

“I just really, really hate to think that there are forty thousand people that we’re letting down tonight.” He says in a small voice, “That I’m letting down.” 

“Stop it,” Julie climbs under the duvet so she can wrap her arms around his torso and let him rest his head against her chest. “This is just one show. It sucks that we can’t play, but it’s neither your fault nor will it matter in the grand scheme of things.” She pauses to kiss the top of his head and Luke turns his head up to look at her with hopeful, sad eyes. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We’ll be playing shows until our fingers get too wrinkly and stiff from arthritis or something like that. People will get sick of seeing our concert playbills around towns.” 

Luke’s eyes close, a satisfied smile on his lips as he undoubtedly gets lost in the mental picture Julie has painted for him. She tightens her arms around his body, solid and feverish, and he gently intertwines a hand with hers. 

“Are you okay?” He whispers, his eyes still closed. Julie knows that he knows and she shudders a little, doing her best to keep certain bad memories out of her brain. 

“I’m… dealing with it.” She answers truthfully.

“I don’t want you to be here if it makes you feel bad,” Luke squeezes her hand. “I’m sure one of the boys can… I know you don’t like being around sick people.” 

“You’re not people.” Julie is happy with how firm her voice sounds. “I’m not leaving you. And besides, Alex wouldn’t come within five feet from you without a nuclear proof suit, and Reggie would let you sneak out to the tour bus to play. I only trust myself.” 

Luke snorts a laugh, and it has the miraculous effect of making Julie feel better too. 

“I can still try to corrupt you too,” he wiggles his eyebrows allusively at her, but it’s all ruined by a  powerful sneeze that makes the bed rock back and forth for a second. 

“I’m definitely charmed,” Julie rolls to her side of the bed to retrieve the tv remote from her bedside table. “Come on, I’ll let you choose the movie we’re watching.” 

Luke sniffles again. 

“School of Rock.” He declares.

“You know it by heart.” 

“You said I could choose.”

“I did,” Julie nestles against Luke under the duvet. “And I know what your real disease is.” 

“Stickittotheman-eosis.” Luke quotes happily, hugging Julie like she’s his personal teddybear, yawning as the opening credits start to play. “Gosh, I love you so much.”

“I don’t know if you’re saying this to me or to Jack Black.” Julie giggles.

“Babe.” Luke looks at her. “You’re special, but you’re no Jack Black.” 

“Yeah, I figured.” Julie sighs. When she meets Luke’s eyes, they are alight with something she’s not sure she can put into words. It makes her feel huge and small at the same time. 

“I love you too.”  ___________________________________________________ Thanks for reading! Feel free to drop a prompt in my askbox for more stuff like this if you’d like.  JATP minifics (x)

[singeramg]

Congratulations on your 500 followers! I would like to make a request for 9 .“Just don’t break anything…again!” with Henry. Thank you!

Hey world! Sorry I’ve been a bit MIA when it comes to writing, or at least posting! Don’t worry continuations of my WIP’s are coming but I also wanted to challenge myself to break my mold of writing and try to have a little fun. Also I wanted to show my appreciation of all of you and your support of what I do!

So to anon this is something from my Fluff! Henry collection! I hope you enjoy it as much as I had fun with it!

Title: Lava and Kids Don’t Mix

Characters: Dad!Henry Cavill x Female Reader

Prompt: “Just Don’t Break Anything...Again!”

Rating: G!

Warning: None, just fluff, mention of injury, and a slightly broody Cavill man.

MasterList for more fun!

Henry Cavill was in a panic. 

You only had one rule before you left to spend the day with his mother. Leaving him in charge of your two 5 year old  twin boys Mitchell and Michael for the day. He was supposed to keep it simple, take the boys to the park with Kal and your 2 year old Jack Terrier Russell Sandy. You knew the boys would run off all access energy at the park and after they ate the soup and sandwiches you made for all of them before you left, they would down for their nap, and you would be home and starting dinner just after they woke up.

Simple plan right?

Right?

Wrong.

Needless to say things didn’t anyways go to plan in the Cavill household when dealing with two rambunctious twins that looked and acted like their father and two dogs, and also an unexpected rainstorm that shortened the park trip that saw the Cavill men playing the floor is lava, while Henry warmed up the soup in the kitchen. Ignoring the roughhousing like he tended to do when you weren’t around because he grew up with four brothers and “boys will be boys.” Of course Mitchell managed to miss the couch cushions he was supposed to land on, and landed on his left arm and on top of his brother. The subsequent scream of pain sent Henry flying from the kitchen, and to his horror found two crying kids on the floor. One holding his arm hollering and the other reeling from his brother landing halfway on him, therefore he was crying too. Henry runs back to the stove switching it off and then running back over to his children which now had a dog sniffing at their faces. Henry picks up Michael first sitting him on the couch and his whimpers are already settling down but Mitchell was still hollering and holding his arm.

“Oh no.”

Henry picks up Michell off the floor who curls into his father's side.

“Mitchell can I see your arm?”

Slowly; the still whimpering child lifts his arm, and the second Henry delicately touches the arm, it sends Mitchell into a scream of pain and fresh tears.

Oh dear.

He notes the boy’s arm has begun to swell and is awfully red. He carries him into the kitchen and puts a ice pack on it and knows he is going to have to take him to the hospital.

In the biggest rush known to man he gathers the twins and puts an SOS to you. Tossing things around the house until he located his wallet, and keys, just avoiding a vase on the table, that you loved. His son hollers louder held in his arms.

You were going to kill him.

You literally left the house with a  “ Just don’t break anything again” as a joke but now it looked like it was coming true...

*Hospital*

The small group was ushered back fairly quickly into a room and for once Henry was slightly glad of his celebrity when it came to his family. He often was irritated when he found intrusive photographs of his family plastered all over the web but this time one look at his license had gotten them into a private room and waiting for Mitch to come back from X-rays. He had called you on the way to the hospital, but you didn’t answer so he left a message and tried his mother with the same result. He had tried a few times but he knew coverage could be spotty and he wasn’t exactly sure of what his mother planned for you. He knew you would feel terrible about not answering not to mention he hated putting you through undo stress because you were carrying the third child of the Cavill brood. That had been the only reason you even went today was to get a breather without a five year old pulling at your skirts, especially since he had just gotten back from filming just over a week ago.

Yep. You just might kill him…

At least he thought. He always worried as a father about his children and where you were concerned he wanted to be everything he couldn’t be when he was away filming. You were such a wonderful mother and he just wanted to match what you did for the family. This was not it.

 Mike is sleepily resting on Henry’s arm as his brief stint with crying had left him knackered. Henry happens to look down at the arm that Mitchell landed on and noticed he is starting to bruise over his arm. Henry is just beginning to look over his sons arm for the extent of the damage when simultaneously while he was touching Mike’s forearm ; there is a similar spot to his brother’s just on the opposite arm that is red and swollen and soon as he touches it gently, Mike cries out; waking up from his sleep, and also you walk in the door.

Alarmed to find one of her sons crying. Mike notices you almost instantly, crying and running over to you.

“Oh my little man what’s the matter?”

“Daddy hurt my arm!” The young boy calls out and wants the comfort of your arms but of course you couldn’t lift him. Normally you would get onto him about that, but that could be saved for later. Besides he was child so his thoughts would be more literal meaning that Henry must have touched his arm or something. 

You lean down as best you could with your 6 month stomach which was reaching the point of cumbersome, but not making you totally immobile as it did with the twins at this point, squatting so you are eye level with him and he wraps himself around you, letting you gently lift his arm. He starts hollering at your slight touch coming further into the room with his mother and father close behind.

You only had one rule really when you left the house this morning and that was for Henry not to break anything...again! However considering you had known whatever happened in your way here, this was a mistake.

The last time you left them alone for an extended amount of time the TV had been broken during a game of catch that you had already told them not to play in the house the night before you went out for the Bridal Shower.

Needless to say you hadn’t been happy with the situation at the time and it was a material thing that could be replaced. Now here you were coming to a hospital cradling one child while the other...wait...where was Mitchell?

“Daddy hurt your arm? I think that may not be the whole truth but it’s okay we can deal with it later. Okay well let’s see if we can get a really nice doctor to take a look at it and I’ll talk to Daddy.”

You say comforting him and pretending to be mad at Henry who honestly already looks wrecked about whatever had happened between the time that you left and now. You press the call button and someone comes in almost immediately which notoriously did not happen; but you weren’t complaining. You asked for them to take a look at Mike as well. They agreed without much problem and after creating a little band for his wrist they agreed to X-ray him and gave him something for his pain.

You waddle over to the chair next to Henry who actually picks up Mike and lets him sit on his lap. He says his hellos to his parents who know the look of exhaustion and being resigned to fate way too well. They take seats as well.

“So where’s the other half of our set?”

You mildly joke.

“He should be back any moment; they’ve taken him to get an X-Ray.”

At that moment a wheel chair appears with a sleepy child in it, his blue eyes drifting in and out of lucidness.

“Moooommmmmmy!!!!”

He says but his voice is dragging indicating they had given him something to ease the pain. You let the nurse help him into bed and go over to him while Henry’s parents take over for comforting Mike.

“Hi baby. How’s your arm?”

“It was hurt-ed momma but it’s not anymore. I feels weird. I sleepy.”

You push back his riotous, dark curls with a soft hand.

“Okay baby go to sleep; Daddy and mommy will be here when you wake up.”

He drifts off and the nurse comes to take Mike for his X-Ray and with the alert child gone; a worried grandfather in tow to watch over him and the other sleeping, you sit back down with a sore back and a smile.

“So what really happened in the couple of hours I was gone.”

Henry looks sheepish; and rubs the back of his neck., his natural curls smushing under his fingers.

“Well we went to the park, but the rain washed us out earlier than intended. So we went back to the house and I cut on a movie, but the boys were playing and the floor was lava and the next thing I heard was a scream...”

“Wait...’the floor is lava’?”

“Yes. Our floors are made of lava and seeing as you can’t touch lava it meant jumping around while I warmed up lunch.”

You sigh but one look at the giant puppy that was your husband, you knew he honestly couldn’t feel any worse than what was happening right now. You were just glad no one had head injuries or irreversible damage. You absently rub your stomach and place a hand on a broad shoulder.

“I feel terrible Y/N. I didn’t think a little rough housing would come to this. My brothers and I had injuries but it was usually from tossing each other around and Rugby. Somehow we managed to avoid the hospital due to our roughhousing.”

You sit up and kiss your husband on the cheek. Henry was an internalizer, so you knew if he looked this upset right now then he felt 100 times worse inside.

“Things happen baby it will be okay. If it makes you feel any better they would have created an even more perilous game. They like to invent new ways to make me tear out my hair.”

The room laughs;

“They don’t normally end up in the emergency room when they are with you...or do they?”

He asks and you laugh shaking your head.

“No, but I’ve had a few close calls that made me question whose bright idea was it to have multiple children at the same time. They can be a handful individually. Babe, don’t beat yourself up about it.”

You rub at his shoulder as a comfort. Henry accepts it and caresses the top with his own. Soon Mike is in a similar state as his brother and they got him in a bed next to him. With both of them unconscious the doctor comes back in with X-ray reports that says both of them have a broken arm.

You sigh and Henry looks devastated and you only shake your head knowing the twins never did anything by the half’s nor did they ever do anything alone.

“I guess the Cavill men don’t do anything by the half huh. I asked all of them not to break anything and they managed it times two.”

A/N: This was meant to be fluff about a peak in the life of Henry Cavill with Children. 

More celebration prompt fics will be posted when I wake up in the am because after work today I just do not have it in me to edit anything else tonight, but I hope you enjoyed this for what it is.

TAGLIST: (OPEN)

Henry tag list

@msblkfire84 @magdelen69 @peeyewpeeyew @agniavateira @fcgrizi @diehadess @mary-ann84 @snowbellexx @tearsontape13 @tvdplusriverdale @p3nny4urth0ught5 @laxgirl1799 @crazymexicanfangirl @iloveyouyen @oddduckthatgirl @pinkcollectorparadiseblr @sweetybuzz25 @normatural

[frozenprocedural]

TDOE... something. I’m way off

It’s “Scales” today, but I’m so far behind, I’m just posting even if it’s not related to the prompt. I actually was going to use this for Elsarik week 2020, but that clearly NEVER happened. So I get to post it now.

I mean, Alarik under anesthesia. What’s not to love? As always, he, and Neta belong to @patricia-von-arundel. I just air him out now and again.

@bepoets, can you find TWW reference? ;)

Rating: G

Flirt

Anna found Elsa, still wearing a paint-splattered shirt- it must have been craft day in the classroom- sitting in a folding chair, staring at the empty space where the room's hospital bed should have been. Anna pulled up another chair and sat down next to her.

"I'm going to kill him." Elsa gritted out.

"Please don't. It took long enough for the two of you to get together. Plus, I refuse to explain to Neta why her uncle isn't visiting her anymore."

That was enough to pull Elsa's gaze away from the wall. She gave Anna a weak smile, and accepted the embrace her sister offered. 

"You okay?" Anna asked when they pulled apart.

"That really depends on your definition of 'okay'."

"Elsa." 

"What do you want me to say, Anna? My idiot husband decides he's going to climb up a rock wall to collect a specimen without the proper climbing equipment, falls, and breaks his leg. But does he call 9-1-1? No! He gets one of his assistants to drive him an hour to the hospital. An hour. And do you know how I find out? He calls me, while in the car, and tells me he 'hurt himself' and is going to get his leg 'checked out'. Nevermind that it's swollen to twice it's normal size or that there's a bulge in the middle of his leg. But, it's fine, he doesn't need immediate medical attention for that!"

She slumped forward with a groan. "And this happens in the middle of the day, with my students elbow-deep in paint, and I have to leave them to come here. It's just…" 

Elsa made a frustrated noise, and Anna placed an arm around her shoulder. Before anything could be said, they were interrupted by the sound of a bed being wheeled in.

"Mrs. Geatland?" 

Elsa stood up so quickly the chair she'd been in nearly toppled over. On the bed, Alarik was almost lost in a cocoon of blankets, with only his head sticking out. His skin was extremely pale- even for him, and his face tense with pain. Nevertheless, he managed a weak smile and a soft "Hello, Darling". 

Elsa shot him a glare before turning to the nurse and doctor flanking his bed. "What did he manage to do to himself?"

The doctor, a sturdy-looking woman with dark, curly hair, smiled sympathetically. "I'm Doctor Barlett," she extended her hand and Elsa took it briefly, "and unfortunately, based on the x-rays, Alarik has sustained fractures on his tibia and fibula- the long bones of the lower leg- that are going to require surgery to repair." 

Dr. Barlett went over to the lightbox and flipped it on, placing an x-ray image on its surface. The X-ray showed a clear break in both bones, with part of the tibia pressing against the outside of the skin. "We are going to drill into the tibia to insert a rod for stabilization, and place a plate on the fibula. With that and physical therapy, Alarik's outlook for recovery is very good. I do need you to go over some forms with Leisel, Mrs. Geatland," she indicated to the nurse at her side, "and then we'll prep him for surgery. You can walk with him to the theater and we'll set you up in the waiting area." 

Elsa looked almost as pale as Alarik did, but she nodded, leaned down to press her forehead against his before following Leseil to the computer. As soon as she was out of sight, Alarik motioned frantically towards Anna. She raised an eyebrow and came over to his side, leaning in close. 

“Anna, I’m scared.”

She took his hand. "Hey, that's normal. Surgery is-"

"No, not the surgery. Okay, maybe a little bit, but I'm really scared of what happens afterwards."

"Do you mean not waking up? Alarik, you're perfectly healthy, and-"

"No, what if I wake up and the anesthesia messes with my brain? And I start…" he looked around fearfully before lowering his voice "flirting with a nurse or doctor?"

Anna squinted. "Wait, what? You're going into surgery after a major break, and you're worried about flirting with the hospital staff?"

"Not so loud! Yes! Elsa doesn't deserve that! I've already put her through so much- I can't have my mind thinking it's okay to sweet-talk with someone else! She's my wife! The woman I love!" Alarik threw his head back into the pillow.

"Right now, I'm going to guess whatever pain meds they have you on are already messing with you. But look, if that actually becomes a problem, I'll take care of it then. Not sure how, but I'll figure it out."

Alarik lifted his hand, extending his pinkie. "Promise?"

Anna gripped it with her own, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. "I promise, you dork."

………….

Several long hours later, Elsa and Anna were ushered back to a recovery room after being told Alarik's surgery was successful. 

"He's still coming off of the anesthesia, so he may not make the most sense at the moment." Leisel explained as she led them back. "Here we go." 

She pushed open the room door, revealing Alarik, sporting a bulky new cast, resting on the bed, his eyes closed. "I'll be back in a bit to check up on him." Leisel closed the door behind her, and they went over to the bed. Elsa picked up Alarik's hand.

"Hello, Alarik."

His face scrunched up, relaxed, and he slowly opened his eyes. He blinked, his gaze bleary, before looking over at Elsa and grinning widely.

"Hi."

"How are you feeling?"

"Gooooood." Alarik’s gaze flitted around the room, before landing back on Elsa. He squinted. "Hey, are you here to take care of me?" 

She chuckled, brushing a stray curl away from his forehead. "Yes, of course."

She wasn't sure how he could grin any more, but he did. "Niiiiice. I like that. I like that a lot. You're really beautiful. I mean, I bet you already know that, but you're gorgeous. If you were my wife, I'd be telling you that every day. Why are you laughing? I like that laugh."

Elsa put her hand to her mouth, struggling to contain her growing mirth. "You goose, I am your wife." She brought their hands together so that he could see the rings. "See?"

His eyes went wide and he shot upright with his mouth hanging open. "Wait, we're married!? How!?"

Now there was no chance of holding back her laughter. "The usual way, of course. You proposed, I said yes, and we had a wedding." Behind her, Anna cackled.

"You forgot the part where he broke his wrist trying to propose to you." Anna added. 

"I did?" Alarik lifted his hands, turning them over before dropping them and blinking at Anna. "Are you here to take care of me too?"

Anna grinned, making no attempt to hide the phone she was holding up to record him. "Sort of. I'm Anna. Elsa's sister. Your sister-in-law."

Alarik grinned. "You seem fun."

Anna bent double, her sides heaving as she howled with laughter. Alarik giggled along- a surprisingly high-pitched giggle, which only made Anna laugh all the harder. 

"You two." Elsa sighed, but she couldn't suppress her own smile. Eventually Anna calmed down, and Alarik snapped his head back to Elsa, as if remembering something.

“Wait, do we have kids?”

Elsa's gaze took on a faraway look, and her hands twined together. Eventually, she answered him in a voice so soft it was barely audible.

"Not… not yet. But… soon."

"Soon?"

Elsa stood, turning sideways, and pulled her blouse tight, displaying the small swell in her middle. "About four months from now."

Alarik's face was euphoric. “We’re… we’re going to have a baby!? Oh, that’s… that’s just… Oh my God…” His eyes were wet. “Did you hear that, Anna? I get to have a baby with this incredible, amazing, darling woman, and…” He broke down, tears streaming down his face.

“Yup.” Anna responded over his growing sobs. “You did pretty much the same exact thing the first time Elsa told you.”

“Alright,” Elsa said, pressing Alarik back into the bed. Her own eyes were suspiciously wet as well. “I think this is your way of telling me you need some rest now. We can talk when you’re more lucid. Get some rest.”

Alarik’s eyes were already at half-mast, and he was clearly drained from crying. “Okay. Will you stay with me?”

She smiled, pushing away the curls from his forehead. “Of course. Now, get some rest. I’ll be right here.”

Alarik grinned, his eyelids slipping shut. “‘Niiiight.” 

“Goodnight” Elsa and Anna chorused. Within moments, he was fast asleep, snoring gently. 

Elsa looked over at her sister. “Please, for the love of all things good and holy, tell me you got that all on video.”

Anna grinned and flashed her a thumbs-up. 

[pink-peony-princess]

I'm your brother it's what I do!

"Willow, dinner!" Mum called up the stairs. I sighed slowly sitting up on my bed, trying to ignore the dull ache coming from my side and left wrist.

This was the part of the day that I was dreading the most- having to face my brother Shawn. I knew he'd freak out.

The bullying had been going on for months now, and I had been beaten up a few times, but nothing too serious, until today. I'd told Mum and she'd spoken to the school, but they were more concerned with protecting their reputation than their students, and while that made my parents furious they didn't exactly have the funds to just switch schools.

"How was your day?" I asked my brother as I sat down at the table across from him. This was a rare luxury, getting to see him for dinner at home. Shawn was a doctor at a 24hour clinic 30 minutes from here, having gone through an advanced med program in junior and senior year and then onto residency. Now he was moved out into his own place. He loved his place and his work more than anything and he could probably write a book with the stuff he saw on a daily basis. But I missed him, more than anything. We were 5 years apart, but we'd always been close and even now at 17, I relied heavily on him for support- he was my person the only one in the world that I felt like truly understood me.

"It was good. Had a kid with a bead up his nose," he shrugged, before shovelling food into his mouth clearly unfazed.

The rest of dinner was quiet, Mum and Dad discussing their plans for the weekend, Shawn continuing to shovel food down- he was always hungry, and me, pushing my own food around my plate, trying to ignore the throbbing pain of my side that was only getting worse.

"Are you okay Willow?" my mum asked, eyeing me carefully when she realised I still hadn't really taken a bite 20 minutes later.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just tired, I brushed her off, going she'd believe me. "Will you excuse me, I just need to go to the bathroom."

She nodded and I got up making my way to the bathroom. I pulled my shirt up and inspected my aching side. It was black in some places now, worse than this afternoon.

"What is that?" I jumped at the sound of Shawn's voice behind me, I dropped my shirt, spinning around to face him.

"Shawn what are you doing in here?" I spun, tugging my shirt down, panicked.

"I was coming to wash my hands," he answered. "Now stop obfuscating." He stepped forward, his hand coming to pull my shirt up again.

"I fell," I answered, hoping he would buy it, but knowing he wouldn't.

"You and i both know that's bullshit," he scoffed, his harsh tone taking me by surprise.

"You know what Shawn just leave me I can deal with it in my own!" I spat, "It's not like you can change it anyway." I turned away from the mirror, trying to hide my face.

"Wills, what happened?" he asked again, his tone, softer this time, as he reached to bring me into a soft hug.

"Girls at school," I chocked, trying to hold back tears. "It hurts so bad Shawnie," I whispered, the tears escaping.

"Oh princess," he sighed, pulling me into his side again.

"Owwww."

"Sorry hon, let me see," he spoke. As much as I didn't want to I knew I didn't have a choice.

"Holy shit," he let out a low whistle. "When did this happen?" he asked, taking in the swollen, red and bruised skin over my rib cage.

"Lunch," I sniffled.

"I'm taking you into the clinic." he turned from the room, pulling his phone out and dialling a number in a rush.

"Shawn," I whined.

"No Willow, this bruising is bad, and I can hear that you're breathing is laboured, it hurts to breathe doesn't it."

I whimpered, giving the answer away.

"F*ck!" he cursed out, rubbing his face.

"Please don't be mad," I cried.

"On no baby, I'm not mad at you, I promise," he soothed, guiding me from the room quickly, but carefully. "Mum did you know about this?" he asked, pulling my shirt up again to show my mum.

Her face dropped.

"Again Willow?" My shoulders shook as I cried only making the pain worse.

"I'm taking her to the clinic. She needs x-rays and pain relief, she could have punched a lung." It was clear from his tone that he was telling her out of courtesy, not out of nessesity.

"Mum?" I begged, pleading with her to step in, she knew how I hated going to the doctor's. Ironic considering my own brother was one.

"Go with your brother, baby, let him take care of you."

Half an hour and one silent car ride later we were pulling into Shawn's work.

"Easy Princess," he spoke, helping me out of the car, as I struggled to the ground.

"Are you mad?" I asked, not daring to look at him as we made our way slowly inside.

"Yes," he sighed, "But not at you," he squeezed my hand, leading me through the double doors.

"Dr. Mendes,". It still felt weird to hear people refer to my brother as that.

"I need a room now," he spoke urgently. "This is my sister." he added for emphasis.

"Oh my," the receptionist spoke rushing around the counter.

"Room three is free, " she told Shawn, he wasted no time hurrying me down the hallway.

"Hop up on the bed for me Willow?" he asked, as he went to wash his hands and pull on a pair of gloves.

"I'm scared Shawn," I mumbled as he came to stand in from of me.

"There's no need to be," he smiled reassuringly. "I'll tell you everything I'm doing, how about that."

I nodded greatful.

"I'm going to pull up your shirt and have a feel of your ribs okay, can you lie down for me?" he spoke, keeping his word.

"Does this hurt?" he asked, poking around. It was okay, until he hit a section in the middle of the bruise, a sharp ache, eminating from that spot immediately.

"Sorry, Willow, I'm sorry," he apologized as I instinctively recoiled from his touch, tears starting to form.

"S'okay," I mumbled, trying to relax again.

"So I'd like to get an x-ray, to check for breaks," he explained, helping me to sit up again. "But in the meantime how about we deal with your other injuries."

"I looked at him inquisitively, I hadn't mentioned anything about other injuries.

"Come on Willow, I'm a doctor, this isn't my first rodeo, besides, your hoodie sleeve fell down at dinner and a caught a glimpse of what looked like gravel rash. Plus, I highly doubt that if they hurt you enough to potentially crack your ribs, that that would be the only injury you'd sustain." he looked at me knowingly, waiting for me to response.

He had me pinned, I knew it and he knew it.

I sighed giving in and pushing back my left hoodie sleeve exposing the nasty gavel rash that stung when the air hit it.

"This has to be some of the worst I've seen," he admitted, turning my arm carefully to inspect it.

"You're not making me feel any better," I grumbled trying to pull my arm away, but he continued to inspect it, not releasing it.

"Willow, this still has pieces of dirt and gravel in it," he spoke shaking his head. He let me go finally heading over to one of the many cupboards the room had and pulling out several things including a kidney dish, a syringe, two small bottles of what looked like iodised water and antiseptic and some bandages.

"I'm going to have to get the gravel out and flush it, it'll get infected otherwise," he explained, bringing all the stuff over to sit it on the bed next to me.

"Will it hurt?" I asked worried as he sat down on a rolling stool on front of me and positioned my arm where he needed it.

"It might sting a bit," he allowed, "but if I don't do this you WILL end up with an inflection and trust me that will hurt more."

I bit my lip nervously. "Okay," I agreed finally, but my voice wavered giving me away.

"You don't have to be brave Willow," he murmured looking up at me from where he was working to pull the tiny bits of gravel from my arm, me hissing and jumping occasionally. "It's okay to cry." I knew he wasn't just talking about my fear, But everything that had happened to land me here.

"Would you like me to get Cami to come in and hold your hand?" he asked referring to his nurses assistant that I'd gotten to know really well over the last two years.

"Please," I sobbed finally cracking.

"Stay here," he told me, handing me a tissue and patting me on my good arm before leaving the room pulling the door to.

Moments later the door opened again and Shawn was back, Cami in tow.

"Oh Willow, honey," she rushed over to me, giving me a very gentle hug.

She sat with me as Shawn finished pulling bits out and irrigated the wound before wrapping it and pacing an ice-pack on it to help with the pain.

We only had to wait another 10 minutes before x-ray was free, a process that didn't take long.

"You're not going back to that school," he grumbled, returning to the room a short while later and sticking the films on the light board. "See here," he pointed to a barely visible line on two of my ribs. They're cracks. Those girls literally broke your ribs. So I don't care what mum says you're coming to stay with me and you'll finish up school at the local college. It's only a 5 minute walk from my place."

Once he'd finished everything he needed to do and we'd stopped by the pharmacy to get me some painkillers we got back into his jeep. I was so tired now, I just wanted to curl up in a ball and go to sleep, unfortunately my ribs wouldn't let me.

"I've sent mum a text to let her now you're staying with me," Shawn murmured looking over at me as he drove.

"And my stuff?" I stiffled a yawn."

"We'll go back for it in a few days when you're more mobile. If you hit that leaver there the seat will recline so you can nap till we get home," he added as we stopped at a traffic light.

I did what he said and was instantly more comfortable.

"Thanks Shawn," I mumbled softly as I shut my eyes.

"I'm your brother, it's what I do," he smiled, holding his hand out for me to take. "I love you Willow."

"Love you too," I slurred already halfway to dreamland.

[secondhand-trash]

Crystal Clear

A/N: All these gloomy looking boys with aesthetically pleasing character design is making me THRIVE. (Also, I was gonna post this on Saturday because yay algorithm but then I wanted to get it out by Halloween aka the last day of @villainmonth even though au is for day 27​ so here ya go)

(au masterlist)

Pairing: seer!Dabi x reader

Description: The person you worked for happen to be able to see into the future and he was convinced that you would be in love with him. You weren’t buying it though.

Warning: non-consensul touching from a third character under alcoholic influence (nothing too major but putting a heads up just in case)

Word count: 3945

Playlist:

Somebody Else//The 1975

Norman fucking Rockwell//Lana Del Ray

Drunk Text Romance//Cyberbully Mom Club

-

“You are going to fall in love with me.”

You looked up from your desk to meet the piercing blue eyes of the man you were working for, “Is that a question, a statement, a challenge, or a threat? Because no matter which one it is, that’s pretty much not gonna happen.”

Dabi placed his palms on your desk and leaned forward, towering you slightly with a smirk on his face. “We’ll see about that,” he said, sounding as cocky as always, “I see it very clearly in my vision and you’ve worked with me for long enough to know that my predictions are never wrong.”

You didn’t say a word as you couldn’t quite argue with that. Dabi made a name for himself for being a brilliant seer at such a young age. He was young and good-looking, mysterious with a snarky personality, the full package for media adoration. The internet’s opinion on him was polarized, a lot of people practically worship him but not without an equal amount of people who hated his guts, not that he cared at all. But no matter how people felt about him, there was no denying that he was frighteningly good at what he did, giving off extremely accurate readings to each and every single person who came to ask for a glimpse into their future.

The media had been digging into the origin of his great talent but they never found anything. Dabi hid a lot more from the light than most would expect but you distinctively remember the time he had you closed up the shop early and pulled out a bottle of vodka, pushing the glass that you didn’t even know he store in the shop in front of you despite your protest before taking a swing from the bottle directly himself. You did not know what gone over him that day but he looked almost distressed so you stayed. Half of the bottle was gone when he told you in a slurred voice how he got the ability to see into the future. He stared at you with those eyes of his that was so clear you almost mistaken them as glass and told you that the sight was given to him in a bet with a demon on the same day many, many years ago.

He did not tell you if he won the bet or not.

You, on the other hand, was just a poor college student who needed a job to afford rent. You came across the flyer that had “assistant for hire” written on it in a barely comprehensible handwriting with dark purple ink that gave off an odd glow when you looked at it under the sun. You were skeptical of it, it did not look legit at all and a chain of patterns that looked like runes were scribbled on the back of the thin paper in the same purple ink. Not to mention the salary it was offering seemed to be a bit too high for it to be real. It could very likely be a scam or some trap but you were really desperate and people do stupid things in desperate times.

Which led to the current moment, two years after you pushed all survival instincts to the back of your head walked into the shop that was hidden in a quiet corner at the back alley of a busy market, being mildly annoyed by the man you were the assistant to.

Dabi’s smirk only widened when you rolled your eyes. You were just about to make a remark about how your feelings was a matter for you to decide when the crisp chime of the small bell hanging on the door frame of the shop caught your attention. You looked towards the door to see a young man timidly entering the shop. Getting up, you greeted the customer with a small smile and started going through the details of his booking. Seeing that you had no intention to give him any attention and getting slightly bored by the business talk, Dabi uninterestedly turned around and lifted the heavy curtain to the back room where the scrying sessions usually take place.

With a hand lifting the fabric and his back facing the reception, Dabi took last quick glance at the man before disappearing into the room. He could not pin point what exactly gave him the feeling but something about that seemingly kind face gave off the aura of a bad omen, and he was never wrong about an omen.

“Can I leave work a bit earlier today?”

“What? Why?” Dabi tried to hide the shock on his face as he peaked out from the curtains to look at you. In the two years you had been working for him, you had never asked to leave early or to get an extra day off. There was this one time when he had to dragged you to the doctors himself because you were coughing like crazy but still insisted on showing up to work. It’s not like he couldn’t get any work done if you left just a few hours earlier than usual but knowing that he could hear your laugh as he passed by to make fun of unbearable customers in your ear made those few painful hours just a bit less miserable.

“I have a date,” you didn’t see the way his face dropped as you started organizing the waiting area of the shop, “remember Yamamoto, the guy who had an appointment a few days ago? He gave me his number before he left and he’s taking me to a pier tonight.”

You did not get any response. The silence was stuffing you and you looked up at your boss in concern, “You won’t mind, will you?”

“Yeah, of course,” he tried to sound as unbothered as he could, “it’s just, that man gave off the wrong vibes.”

“Everyone gives off the wrong vibes to you,” you laughed and shook your head, “if it has anything to do with your vision that I’ll fall in love with you, do I have to remind you that it’s my choice to make, not yours?”

Dabi wanted to tell you it wasn’t that, that he could feel something off about that Yamamoto. But he couldn’t say it, not when you looked so excited and giddy and it had nothing to do with him. He brought up his vision of you being in love with him to tease you, that was true but he ended up liking that idea a lot more than he thought he would and now it was all he could think of when he looked at you. Dabi trusted very little people and if it had been someone else, he would have do everything to prevent it from coming true. But you, you he could work with. Somehow he didn’t quite mind if his fun-loving assistant who always pick up after him despite complaining ended up falling in love with him. His mind was screaming at you to just open your eyes and see that it could have work. But as much as he knew how scarily accurate his visions could be, he also had the equally accurate knowledge that you did not believe in that at all. So he ignored the screaming of his heart and hummed a word of approval before turning his back to you, disappearing behind the curtains.

You did not talk to him again until you left the shop that day.

You didn’t pay much mind to Dabi’s scrawl whenever Yamamoto showed up at the shop to pick you up for a date. He had been nothing but a kind and loving person to you since your first date a couple months back, you wouldn’t say you were crazy for him but being with Yamamoto was enjoyable no less. He was an average man, nothing that special about him that could make him compare to a powerful seer but it gave you more sense of security than the idea of dating your boss. You couldn’t lie and say that you weren’t just a bit attracted to Dabi or that his smirk didn’t make your knees weak at all, but being in a relationship with him would be a whole other deal. You never know what to expect with him and as charming as it might sound, the idea of being with someone who could easily break your heart in that unpredictable way of his scared you.

Dabi was starting to think that he might have made a mistake. Things between you and that guy was going sickeningly well. So well, that it had him doubting his ability as a seer for the first time since the very devil who gave him all those scars and the power to see into the future in the first place laughed at his face many years ago. He had never seen anything clearer than the sight of you linking your arm in his, looking at him with so much adoration in your eyes but right now those eyes were twinkling at the sight of someone else. It made him feel pathetic at how he wanted him to be the one those eyes linger on instead.

Dabi knew the look of someone who cried themselves to sleep way too well for him to not pick up on your swollen eyes and the blood vessels that’s covering every part of them when you came into work that day. He was going to find and end the person who did whatever they did to make you cry right then and there if you wasn’t there to stop him.

“It’s fine, I’m the one who broke up with him.”

He couldn’t deny that he had been secretly hoping for this to happen for the past few months but seeing your blank expression made his heart ached no less. He was confused, you still looked so smitten with your so-called boyfriend the day before when he waited for you outside the shop, what has happened that night for you to break things off with him?

Your ego was already severely bruised and telling him what happened wouldn’t make it hurt any less. Admitting that Dabi was right and you were wrong would not help your pride at all.

You knew something was off the moment Yamamoto’s voice got just a bit louder than usual after the third cup of wine hit his throat. You let it slide when he got a bit too handsy for your comfort, convincing yourself that it was the alcohol acting up. But you couldn’t pretend that you didn’t hear him vile words left his mouth as he had a hand still resting on your thigh like it was nothing.

“I have no idea how you put up working with that thing. Just seeing that monster’s face make me sick.”

“That person you called a ‘thing’ is my friend.” you tried to keep your composure but nothing could mask that churning in your stomach as the man sitting next to you laughed.

“Oh please, we both know that you only pretend to be his friend because that job pays well.”

He insulted your honor and values, but nothing could compare to the fury you felt at the way he talked about your friend like he was some dirt on the ground that he could step over. You didn’t look back as he yelled after you, storming out of the restaurant right after slapping that asshole across the face.

Dabi’s voice brought you back to reality from your reminiscence of that fail of a break up, “Call the people who are coming over today and tell them that I’m not feeling well.”

“What?” you whispered in disbelief, “We can’t just do that!”

Dabi snorted and forced the phone into your hand, “Of course we can. They’re the ones who needed me, not the other way round.”

“But-”

“Just do as I say,” he said impatiently but there was nothing but concern behind those glass-like eyes that were staring right through you, “what kind of boss would I be if I let you work when you look like this? People are gonna think that I mistreated you for fuck’s sake, we’re going for a drink.”

He sighed in relieve when he saw the faint smile on your face as you obliged his command.

Throughout the rest of the day, Dabi made it his mission that he would get your mind off that prick and he was having a hard time holding back a grin as your laughs echoed in the empty street. You hadn’t have so much fun in a very long time and it was definitely not something you expected to happen right after an ugly break up. It was only the two of you in the empty neighbourhood, you rolled your eyes when Dabi insisted that he would walk you back to your flat, completely oblivious to the fact that it was nothing but an excuse for him to spend more time with you. Only the moon watched on as the seer who knew everything realized he did the one thing he never foresee to ever happen. He fell head first in love with you before you even noticed that he was no longer joking when he brought up the possibility of you feeling the same. The self-doubt did not help when you brushed off each of his attempts at convincing you that what he saw would eventually come true with a laugh, that beautiful sound made his heart flutter and wrench all at the same time.

You stopped in front of a building and turned to face him with a bright smile that contrasted so drastically to the disheveled expression you had this morning. Dabi thought that perhaps, he was allowed to be proud of himself for once and took credit for the change.

“Thanks for today.” you said with your hand on his forearm and the contact was driving him insane. He had to use all of his self-control just to stop the urge to pull you towards him by the arm and close that painful distance between your bodies.

And that’s when he heard that voice screaming at that back of his head again. Those three words echoing through his brain as he greedily basked in the moment when your smile was his alone to see.

I love you.

I love you I love you-

“I love you.”

His heart stayed still as the screaming in his head escaped through his lips and it sank to the bottom of his stomach as your hand that was previously on his arm slowly retreated back. Your eyes were wide and your mouth parted slightly in shock, each part of his mind begging for you to say something.

Your voice broke as you tried to force out a laugh, “No you don’t-”

“Why is it so hard to believe?” Dabi could not control his frustration anymore and his heart cracked at the way you almost flinched at the raise of his voice, “what is so wrong about it that you try so hard to deny that I could be in love with you?”

You wanted to. You wanted to just believe in it and run into his arms, but it was all too much to take in right as you were hurt by someone else. You could hear voices at the back of your head too, and each of them was whispering things that made you fear things you shouldn’t.

You could feel your lips tremble as you used all of your might to pull yourself together, even when the man in front of you looked like he was so close to breaking down. “You know everything and I know nothing about you,” your throat tightened as you forced each word out of your shaking lips, “I’m just afraid of being thrown away, is that all too wrong?”

You could not bring yourself to look into his eyes, those hypnotizing orbs made of crystal that were filled to the brim with pain because of you. You could hear the glass crack. “You think I’ll do that to you?”

“I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry.

That one line burnt through his chest and made his ears sting, the dull ache all too much to handle.

You called in sick to work the next day.

And the day after that.

And the day after that.

It was a cowardly move and it made you feel miserable, but you would much rather shut yourself in than go and face Dabi like nothing happened when everything was different. You could not bear to imagine the way he would look at you, the way those eyes had looked at you when you were too occupied with someone else to notice. If escaping from reality meant that you could pretend like you did not caused his pain, you would defer every minute until you had no choice but to return to the real world.

But the world did not work that way.

You turned off the alarm, and you stilled got up at the exact time you normally did when you would go to work. You picked out the shirt that was in the same dark shade of purple as the ink he used in the shop you wore to work because he always said that it made you blend into the shop more, that you two matched. You brew two portions of coffee when you were living on your own because you brought coffee to work that one time and Dabi did not stop nagging you about it until you started bringing an extra flask for him every day since.

He was so printed into your life that you didn’t even realize how he left his shadow in every part of it until you had the need to stop thinking about him and failed.

Dear god, you missed that bastard so much.

Now you felt stupid, and you felt terrible for pushing him away all for nothing. Because it was Dabi we were talking about. Dabi, who was never wrong about anything. Dabi, who you gladly worked for the past 2 years and made it the happiest time of your life. Dabi, who annoyed you and made you laugh all at the same time. Dabi, who was more concerned about your health than you did most of the time. Dabi, who was the reason why you did not mind going to work every day at all. Dabi, who tried to warn you about someone who eventually hurt you before you even noticed the signs. Dabi, who noticed that you had been crying and forced you to take a day off. Dabi, who made you forget that you just had a breakup the day before because he was just that good. Dabi, who told you that he was in love with you and looked wrecked when you didn’t believe him.

Dabi, who maybe, just maybe you were in love with as well.

Dabi felt miserable. It was nothing new, but he felt even more miserable than he normally did so he was really wallowing in an inhumane amount of misery. You hadn’t shown up in days and he never knew how dysfunctional he was without you until now.

He missed you so god damn much.

He kept trying to tell himself that it was his shop and he would be fine, but everywhere he turned there was something that reminded him that you were here just a few days before. That plant you put beside the door because you said the shop looked like it was lifeless when you just started working here, the small Jack Skeleton poster on the wall that you got him as a gag gift last Christmas because “he reminded me of you”, that half-emptied cereal box in the cupboard that you forced him to keep because you were convinced that skipping breakfast was bad for his health. Everything in the shop was your as much as it was his, and they were all mocking him in the face at how lost he was without you around.

Dabi hated his powers, it was nothing more than a slap in the face that he had no control over his own life. If he had the choice, he would never use it again if it meant that he could finally enjoy life without that voice in his head telling him exactly what would happen before he even get to savor it just a little longer. But now, for the first time in a long while, he closed his eyes and wished for the picture in his head to be the same as the one he saw before. The all-knowing seer who snickered at those who believed in fate now begged for the vision in his head to be unchanged.

The vision was so real that he almost thought that you were actually standing there in front of him instead of some fake image in his head.

Please be real. Please, please, please be real.

“Hey.”

You had so many things you wanted to say to him. You kept practicing the speech inside of your head as you sprinted on the route you knew at the back of your head again and again but when you saw him, standing there with his eyes closed, even the voices in your mind went silent as it gone blank and the only thing you could barely utter was that one word.

“Hey.”

Dabi could feel the lump in his throat as he finally registered that it was all real and he did not made it all up because he went mad. There were so many things he wanted to say to you but he didn’t dare to say anything more than that, too afraid that if he said something wrong, you would disappear again.

“I’m sorry.”

The same words that pained him now brought him the smallest sense of relieve and you almost let out an indecent sob when you heard his reply.

“I missed you.”

And that was all it took for you to crash into him, wrapping him in a tight embrace. Dabi quickly wrapped one arm around your waist, the other brought his hand up to your head and threaded his fingers into your hair. He clutched you tightly in his arms like you would back away at any time if he didn’t hold onto you.

When you finally pulled back, you lost your breath at how close you were to him. You could stare right into his eyes. And those eyes, those eyes you would never grow tired of looking into.

You felt his hot breath fanning your lips as his face was only so little distance away from yours yet he didn’t lean in any further as if he was waiting for a sign. So you gave him one, and locked you lips on his as your hand reached for his chin, your thumb gently caressing the metal studs on the side of his face as he tugged on your bottom lip.

You were breathless when you pulled away, lips numb from the intimacy it just experienced mere seconds ago. As Dabi closed the distance once again, you could hear the smirk in his voice that made you want to punch him and kiss him all at the same time.

“Told you my predictions are never wrong.”

[crescentmoon223]

I know you’re busy with other stories so I can wait patiently, but may I request a Stella x Scully ficlet from you? Maybe where Stella sprains her ankle at work or something and Scully takes care of her at home, smut ensues...

I hope you don’t mind that I flipped this, since I’ve written back to back fics where I had Scully caring for others, and also because I put Stella through the wringer in Never Tear Us Apart. So I wanted to see Scully being taken care of this time ❤️

-----

Playing Doctor

Read it on AO3

Stella dropped her gym bag beside the bed with a sigh, muscles delightfully spent after an hour at the pool. She stripped out of her clothes and tossed them in the hamper, then walked into the bathroom to start the shower. After checking that the water was hot, she stepped inside, letting the steaming spray pound against her skin. Scully had used a shower bomb last night, the kind that melted during her shower for aromatherapy, and consequently the shower still smelled vaguely like gardenias.

Stella had teased her about the shower bomb, but as she closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath, she couldn’t deny that it was a pleasing scent. Combined with the tranquility that always filled her after a long swim, she was feeling pretty damn peaceful. She washed the chlorine from her body and rinsed her hair before shutting off the water.

She dried off and put on her copper-colored robe to dry her hair, mentally running through the rest of her day, errands to be run and a dinner date with her wife, their Sunday routine. She had just walked into the bedroom to get dressed when her cell phone rang. Scully’s name flashed on the screen, and Stella frowned. That was odd. Scully was on her daily run with Dobby.

“Dana,” she said as she connected the call. “Is everything all right?”

On the other end of the line, Scully sighed. “Don’t laugh.”

Stella’s frown deepened. “When have I ever? Has something happened?”

“Well…” Scully hesitated just long enough for Stella to really start to worry, a tightness forming in the pit of her stomach. “I sort of tripped over Dobby and sprained my ankle. You know how he likes to dart between my feet when he’s chasing a squirrel?”

“I do.” Stella pressed a hand against her chest, relieved it was nothing serious. A smile tugged at her lips at the mental image of Scully tripping over their dog. “How badly are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Scully said quickly. “But I wouldn’t mind a ride home in the car if you’re back from the pool.”

“I am.” And Scully was obviously not fine if she’d asked to be picked up. They were equally stubborn in this way, and Scully would have limped home if she could. “Where are you?”

“In the park, near the exit on Clarendon,” Scully told her.

“I’ll be right there.” Stella ended the call and dressed quickly before jogging down the stairs to grab her purse. She left through the back door and got in the car.

Several minutes later, she pulled to the curb by the entrance to the park that Scully had indicated. She left the car and started down the main path, spotting Scully almost immediately. She stood with one hand braced against a lamppost, the other gripping Dobby’s leash. Her left foot was lifted so that only the toe of her trainer touched the pavement, bearing no weight.

Stella winced as she noticed Scully’s red-scraped knees. She’d obviously gone down hard. Dobby bounced excitedly against the end of his leash as he caught sight of Stella, and Scully wobbled on her good foot.

“Sit,” Stella told him firmly, not wanting the dog to cause Scully to fall a second time. His furry butt hit the pavement, tail still going at lightning speed. Stella reached them and took his leash, giving Scully a sympathetic look. “Looks like it hurts.”

Scully grimaced. “Yeah.”

“Hang on. Let me put him in the car first.” She turned and walked back to the street. As soon as she opened the rear door, Dobby hopped in obediently. She shut it behind him and went back for her wife.

Scully was just as she’d left her, standing by the lamppost. Stella stopped in front of her, giving her an assessing look. Scully’s ankle was visibly swollen, and her lips were pressed into a firm line, evidence of her pain.

“We should go to the hospital for an x-ray,” Stella said, earning her an exasperated look from Scully.

“It’s not broken, just sprained. Come on, Stella. I’m a doctor, for Christ’s sake.”

“So you have x-ray vision, then?” Stella challenged. “Because I’m not sure how that diploma hanging in your office enables you to determine whether or not your bones are broken.”

“I can tell,” Scully said, grimacing again as she attempted to put weight on the foot.

“It could be a small fracture,” Stella countered. “Impossible to know for sure.”

“Can we argue about this at home? Please?”

“Fine,” Stella acquiesced. She’d keep an eye on Scully, and if she thought her ankle needed an x-ray, she’d insist on it later. Right now, she needed to get Scully home and off her feet. “Can you walk to the car?”

“I don’t see that I have a choice,” Scully said, taking a hobbling step forward, which ended up more like a hop. She—like Stella herself—was as stoic as they came, so if she was having this much trouble walking, her ankle must be pretty severely damaged.

Stella could offer her a shoulder to lean on, or she could just get her off that ankle all together. She turned her back to Scully, gesturing with her hands. “Hop on.”

“What?”

When Stella glanced over her shoulder, she saw Scully staring at her, one eyebrow slightly raised in disbelief. “I’m not going to break, Dana. Take advantage of those muscles you’re always admiring, and let me carry you to the car.”

“Um…”

“Go on, then,” Stella said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

“Fine,” Scully muttered, hopping forward so that her hands landed on Stella’s shoulders. “Tell me if I’m too heavy.”

“You’re not.”

“You say that now…” Scully jumped, arms coming around Stella’s shoulders as her thighs clamped around Stella’s hips.

Stella suppressed a grunt, sliding her arms beneath Scully’s knees to anchor her as she leaned forward to better balance their combined weight. As it turned out, Scully was a bit heavier than she’d anticipated, but the car wasn’t far. She had this.

“Okay?” Scully asked breathlessly.

“Yes.” Stella began to walk as briskly as possible toward the street, thankful she’d put on her trainers instead of heels in her dash out the door. Her back ached beneath Scully’s weight, and her already fatigued hamstrings burned, but there was the warm press of Scully’s breasts against her shoulder blades to make up for it, not to mention the sense of power that came with carrying her.

“Gives new meaning to riding you,” Scully mumbled, forearms clamped tight over Stella’s chest.

Stella huffed a laugh. “Don’t get any ideas back there.”

“Me? Never.”

* * *

Scully scooted backward in bed to lean against the headboard, seething with irritation. During her time with the X Files, she’d spent entirely too much time sidelined by various injuries and illnesses, and perhaps as a result, she had absolutely no patience left for any of it. Right now, her whole body ached from her fall, and she wanted to scream in frustration.

Stella entered the room with a bag of ice in one hand. She grabbed a cloth from the bathroom before sitting on the bed. “Tell me if I’m doing this wrong, Dr. Scully,” she said lightly.

“I’ve got it,” Scully said, reaching for the ice.

Stella sat back, holding it out of reach. “You nursed me through broken ribs and an appendectomy. I’m certain I can properly care for your sprained ankle.”

“Come on, Stella,” she protested, impatient for the numbing cold of the ice on her throbbing ankle. She hated being fussed over, and Stella knew it, so why was she turning this into such a production?

“Hold still,” Stella said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

So Scully held in her sigh and let Stella drape the cloth over her swollen ankle before settling the bag of ice on top of it. Almost immediately, the cooling sensation reached her skin, soothing the worst of the pain, and when Scully released her sigh, it wasn’t one of impatience as much as relief. “Thank you.”

With a brisk nod, Stella stood and left the room, returning a minute later with a glass of water and two ibuprofen tablets on her palm, which she passed to Scully. She swallowed them without protest. “What else can I do?” Stella asked as she adjusted the bag of ice on Scully’s ankle.

And Scully had a new appreciation for how Stella had felt when she was injured, forced to accept Scully’s care. It didn’t come naturally for either of them, but she knew the satisfaction of helping to ease Stella’s pain, and as she met Stella’s eyes, she saw that same satisfaction in their indigo depths. Stella wanted to care for her, and maybe Scully owed it to her to let her.

“I suppose I should put some antiseptic cream on my knees,” Scully gave.

“Yes,” Stella agreed. She went into the bathroom and returned with a little white tube in her hand, looking absurdly pleased as she climbed onto the bed. She uncapped the cream and squeezed a glob onto her fingertips, which she began to smooth gently over Scully’s raw knees.

She winced at the contact, although it didn’t hurt as much as she’d expected, perhaps thanks to Stella’s whisper soft touch. Scully had already cleaned the scrapes in the shower, having insisted on rinsing herself off when they first got home, because she was sweaty from her run and dirty from her fall. Now that she was in bed, sore but clean, she was grateful she wouldn’t have to get back up. And okay, maybe it wasn’t the worst thing, letting Stella care for her.

Having finished with the cream, Stella leaned forward and blew on Scully’s glistening knees. Scully gasped at the unexpected sensation. The cool gust of air felt heavenly against her abrasions, causing goose bumps to rise on her skin.

“My palms,” Scully whispered, holding them out to show Stella the scrapes there.

Stella took Scully’s left hand in hers, palm up, as she smoothed cream over it. She moved with the graceful quiet that she embodied better than anyone else, again blowing on Scully’s damaged skin once she’d finished. And again, Scully felt a shiver of pleasure at the sensation. When Stella had finished with both palms, she set the cream on the table beside the bed and turned the full force of her gaze on Scully.

“Anything else I can do?” Stella asked, her voice light and breathy, the tone she reserved for sex.

“I’m sure you can think of something,” Scully responded, chest heaving beneath the heat of Stella’s gaze.

“Mm,” Stella agreed, sliding forward to press an open-mouthed kiss against Scully’s exposed collarbone. “I do know a few ways to boost your endorphins, and that’s supposed to help with pain relief, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Scully gasped as Stella kissed a hot trail down her chest, her breath gusting against Scully’s wet skin, producing an even more pleasurable version of the sensation she’d first demonstrated on Scully’s scraped knees.

“Scoot down for me,” Stella said. She sat back, placing one hand on the bag of ice on Scully’s ankle to hold it steady as Scully slid down flat on the mattress. Stella adjusted the pillow beneath Scully’s head before reaching for the sash on her robe, and Scully couldn’t remember a single reason why she’d protested against Stella’s care in the first place.

Stella’s tongue swirled over Scully’s nipple before she sucked it into her mouth, and Scully gasped with pleasure as the heat of Stella’s mouth lit her on fire, burning away the discomfort of her scrapes and sprained ankle, replacing it with the needy thrum of her pulse between her thighs, an entirely different kind of ache, one that Stella would soothe spectacularly.

She transferred the attention of her mouth from Scully’s left breast to her right as her fingers trailed down Scully’s stomach to settle right where she ached for her.

“Mm,” Scully moaned, arching her hips.

Stella flicked Scully’s nipple with her tongue and then blew on it, causing it to contract into a hardened bud. The contrast of hot and cold played out across her skin in a surprisingly erotic dance. There was the cool slip of her silk robe against her shoulders, the cold bag of ice on her ankle, and the occasional chilly gust of air as Stella teased her wet skin, offset by the hot pleasure of Stella’s mouth, the warm slide of her tongue and her body where it touched Scully’s. Together, they combined to confuse and arouse her senses in a wholly unexpected way.

Stella licked a glistening trail down Scully’s stomach, eyes holding Scully’s as she moved, and as many times as she’d watched Stella do this, it was never any less electrifying. Each time was different. Would Stella go straight to her clit or would she take her time teasing the tender skin of Scully’s inner thighs first? Not knowing was half the thrill, and Scully could hear herself panting, breathless with anticipation.

Her gasping breaths were the only sound in the room, and the silence only seemed to heighten her other senses as Stella ghosted her tongue over Scully’s clit before sliding down to plunge it deep inside her. Her inner walls tightened, warmth coiling low in her belly, before Stella returned the heat of her mouth to Scully’s clit, swirling her tongue in the way that always had Scully spiraling toward release as she pushed two fingers inside her.

Scully groaned, moving her hips against Stella’s mouth. Her hands fisted in the sheets, scraped palms forgotten as Stella flooded her with all the endorphins she’d promised. In fact, she was taking a surprisingly gentle approach, no teeth, no nails, just her lips, her tongue, her fingers and oh fuck…she blew against Scully’s clit.

A sharp cry escaped Scully’s lips, shattering the silence in their bedroom. Stella closed her mouth over her and sucked, hard, sending Scully right over the edge. She moaned as she came, eyes tightly shut as her body lit with pleasure, obliterating the pain. And then she lay there, limp and gasping on the bed, feeling like a whole new woman.

Stella sat up, closing Scully’s robe before she slid down to prop a pillow beneath her ankle, elevating it. She steadied the bag of ice before bending to press a tender kiss against Scully’s swollen skin.

“You’re really good at that,” Scully murmured.

“At what?”

“Playing doctor.”

[generaldisdainn]

Four of a Kind

AO3 link

Rating: MA

Summary: After accepting a job as the head of marketing for a local animal shelter, Anna finds herself in a new city in need of a place to live. Luckily, 3 guys know just the place.

Previous chapter

Chapter 8

I’m sorry I kind of went off on you. It made me feel really bad and I bet it made you feel bad too so I wanted to apologize. There’s history that I don’t know and I shouldn’t judge you when I don’t know all the facts. If you don’t want to talk to me that’s fine, but I’m not going to pretend like everything’s okay between us. Against my better judgment, I care about you, and I want you to be happy. So if you want to talk, I’m all ears.

Kristoff clutched the letter that had slid through the space beneath his bedroom door. He didn’t expect Anna to be willing to talk to him so soon. For that matter, he didn’t expect to want to talk to her so soon. Sven’s pep talk as well as an hour alone in his room gave him a genuine desire to shed his cold demeanor. He found he didn’t care much for the person he became since his relationship with Samantha had ended.

Before he had a chance to stop himself, Kristoff was up on his feet, walking across the apartment and knocking on Anna’s door. He heard a loud sniff from the other side and then footsteps leading up to the door. He heard the lock disengage and then he saw her, eyes red and swollen, clutching a snowman plushie.

God, I fucked up, he thought.

“I thought you didn’t like being in here,” Anna said, motioning to her room.

“Well, I decided, fuck that,” Kristoff responded. “Can I come in? I need to tell you something.”

* * *

Kristoff pulled into a parking spot in the lot just outside his apartment complex. He pulled his phone out from his pocket and tapped the “Messages” icon. Right at the very top of the list of conversations was one called “Sammy Sammy Bo-bammy,” a title his girlfriend, Samantha, came up with and one he thought was too adorable not to use. He tapped on the conversation and typed “guess who’s home early <3 come over?”

He noticed she had become more distant and distracted whenever they were together recently. Kristoff guessed that it was because of how often he was working; he wanted to work as many hours as he could so he could afford to take her to the Cayman Islands, a vacation the two of them had talked about taking since they started dating. After noticing her shift in behavior, he decided that it was more important to spend quality time with her.

As he strolled leisurely across the parking lot, he spotted something familiar out of the corner of his eye. It was a car, just like the dozens of others in the lot, but it was the same color as Samantha’s. And the same make, Kristoff noticed. And model. And that license plate number was strangely similar, too. No, it was the exact same number.

What’s she doing here in the middle of the afternoon? Kristoff thought. He knew she didn’t like his roommates, so she couldn’t be checking in with them. Although he remembered, she had been talking to Brant a lot more often whenever she was over. Brant was his least favorite of his three other roommates, but even so, he was happy she had another reason to be at his place.

He stepped into the elevator, pushed the button for the 4th floor, and leaned back against the wall. A smile spread across his face. This was the first step toward improving his relationship. Tonight, he and Samantha would finally finish that show he could never remember the name of (all he could think of was “Parks and Offices”), then they’d just chill out together, maybe go up to the roof and watch the stars, and if he really played his cards right, possibly even make love.

Kristoff stepped out through the open doors of the elevator with a confident stride. He had faith in himself and his ability to rescue his relationship. As he walked down the hall, he pulled out his phone again to check for any replies from Samantha. Nothing.

No big deal, he thought. Her phone’s probably dead.

But she usually had a charger with her, and Kristoff’s phone was the same as hers, so he knew there was a charger handy in his apartment.

No. Kristoff shook the idea from his mind. She wouldn’t ignore me. Not on purpose, anyway.

He turned the door handle and opened the door slowly, eager to see the surprise and delight on Samantha’s face when she found out he was home hours before he said he would be. But he didn’t see her. He didn’t see anyone, for that matter; the entire common area of the apartment was empty. Maybe he misremembered her license plate number? Maybe she wasn’t here at all?

Brant was definitely here, though. He heard a commotion and some faint music from inside his room on the other end of the apartment. Kristoff couldn’t care less what he was doing, just as long as he took out the trash at some point.

Kristoff knocked on the door to his room. “Sammy? You in here?” No response. He opened the door to a dark, empty room. Now he was getting confused. Was there someone else in this apartment complex she was here to see? He made his way over to Brant’s room to ask him if he’d seen her. A twinge of worry forced his hand through his hair. He knocked on the door to announce his entry, then turned the doorknob.

“Hey Brant, do you know if-”

There was no need to ask him anymore.

There she was, stark naked, her mouth agape and her face drained of color. And there was Brant, just as naked, haphazardly covering himself with the sheets on his bed.

For a fraction of a second, Kristoff wanted to be dead. His heart plummeted. His hands went clammy. He felt numb.

Samantha grabbed a towel on the floor and wrapped herself in it. The silence was unbearable, but no one had anything to say. In an instant, all Kristoff’s hopes, his plans, his life...it was all gone. Ripped from his mind, an empty void where they once were.

Samantha’s mouth shuddered like she was going to speak. “Kristoff...it’s..it’s not-”

“Well, I was right about one thing,” Kristoff said. “You were surprised that I’m home early.”

Samantha let out a heavy breath as a look of pity darkened her face. “You have to understand-”

“You’re cheating…” Kristoff said, “...with him? With him? ” He turned to look at Brant, who seemed to be trying to obscure himself with his sheets. “With you?! ”

“No, Kristoff, don’t get mad at him,” Samantha pleaded.

“I’ll get mad at whoever the fuck I want.”

“Uh, I think I’m gonna go,” Brant muttered.

“No, no, no. You’re staying here and packing your shit. You’re gonna be gone by tomorrow.”

“Kristoff, no,” Samantha said. “He doesn’t deserve to pay for my-”

“Shut up,” Kristoff barked. “Brant. Your shit. Now.”

“Wait, hold on, Kristoff,” Brant said. He stood up, wrapping himself in the towel. “I’m...I can be better, I’ll...when she’s over I’ll stay in my room, okay? Just don’t…” He took tentative steps toward him. He was looking Kristoff in the face, a politeness there that Kristoff felt unable to reciprocate.

“Get the fuck away from me.”

“Come on, man. Kristoff, I’m your friend.”

Before he could stop himself, Kristoff’s right fist collided with Brant’s face hard enough to shatter a car window. There was a substantial thud of the hand making contact, an unsettling crack of Brant’s nose breaking, and a wet spatter of blood on the wall and floor. Samantha shrieked, terrified, as Brant crumpled on the floor, clutching his face and groaning in pain. Samantha began to cry.

“Kristoff, why?! Why did you do that?! Why did you...you…” Her words were frantic and shaky.

“The next time I leave my room, you both are going to be gone.” Without another word, Kristoff turned around and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

“That was the last time you ever saw them?” Anna asked.

“Yeah, thank God. I don’t know what I’d do if I saw either of them again, in any setting.”

“Wow. That’s good, I guess.” Anna nervously eyed the off-white marks on the wall of her room. “So...underneath that paint is…”

“Is Brant’s blood, yes,” Kristoff finished her sentence.

“Is Brant’s--yeah,” Anna said. Her stomach turned a little. “Did you...mean to punch him that hard?”

“I don’t know, I’d never punched anyone before,” Kristoff said. “I’d never...y’know...felt the need to.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Anna extended her legs and laid her plushie on the bed beside her. She turned to look at Kristoff who was sitting in her desk chair which was turned around to face her bed. “And, I mean, I can’t really blame you. If I could hit my ex that hard, I would.”

“What happened with your ex?”

“Well, it wasn’t as dramatic, but he was a Brant-level asshole, too. I just didn’t realize it until after he dumped me.”

“Wait... he dumped you ?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“No, it’s just…” Kristoff had had enough of being standoffish with Anna. “...why would anyone want to leave you?”

Anna could fight the smile she wanted to show, but she could do nothing to hide the blood rushing to her cheeks. “Well…”

“C’mon, it must be a good story,” Kristoff said, leaning forward to rest his head in his hands. “You don’t have to go into it, but--”

“No it’s fine, I’ll, uh...I’ll try to keep it short.” Anna sucked in air and held the breath. She hesitated to speak, not sure how Kristoff would react, but she knew it was important for her to be as candid as he was.

“About a year ago, I went to get an X-ray done because I had chronic pain in my abdomen. Turns out, it, uh...it was a tumor.” Anna looked up at Kristoff when she said this. His eyebrows were knitted and his eyes darkened.

“Are you okay now?” Kristoff asked.

“Yes, I’m fine. Now hush, I barely started my story,” Anna said with a smile. “Yeah, it was a tumor in my pancreas, a benign one, but still painful and dangerous. Anyway, I go to the surgery—his name’s Hans, my ex I mean, by the way—and the doctor’s like ‘Hey, you might die but you probably won’t,’ and I was like ‘wow, okay, thanks for the panic attack right before this life-saving surgery.’”

“Yeah, that guy really needs to work on his bedside manner.”

“Right? Anyway, the surgery happened and they were able to get the tumor completely removed. And when I woke up, a bunch of friends and family were there to greet me. My sister Elsa and her fianceé Honey were there, my friend Pansy and her boyfriend Gene were there too, a few of my coworkers from my old job also, and they brought me flowers and cards and stuff. It was really sweet, but guess who the one person who wasn’t there was.”

“Oh man, really?”

“Yup- it was Hans. The jerk wouldn’t even make sure I was alive.”

“Wow.”

“Me being a naïve moron, I just assumed he was busy or something.”

“Someone else in that room was probably busy too!”

“Yeah, Elsa actually had to catch a flight. A flight! And Hans couldn’t even see me!”

“I can punch him if you want.”

“Okay, but that’s not even the worst part! The next day, after I’d been recovering for a while, I got a text from him basically saying ‘I can’t be with you if you might die. Also, I’ve been seeing someone, so it’s over.’”

“Oh my god, what an asshole!”

“Yeah, I already don’t have my own parents’ love, why did his have to be so fragile too?”

“Wait, you—what?”

“Oh my god, did I never tell you? When my sister Elsa came out to them, they were furious. I sided with Elsa, so they disowned us both.”

Kristoff was stunned. His mouth fell open. “...Jesus...I’m so sorry, I—”

“No need to apologize,” Anna said. “It sucks, but we’re both better off without them. Just like the two of us…” She alternated pointing to herself and Kristoff. “...are better off without our exes.”

“Yeah, I just…” Kristoff rubbed his face. “...I don’t know, sometimes I think I could’ve been better earlier, when—”

“Okay, I’m gonna stop you right there,” Anna interrupted. “I’m not letting you blame yourself for the end of that relationship. She and Brant were the problem, not you. You weren’t doing anything wrong. She thought she could get away with having your love and Brant’s sex at the same time, and you showed her she couldn’t.”

“I mean...yeah, I guess,” Kristoff conceded. “I just...I feel bad for having hit him so hard, that’s another thing. It’s why I never wanted to come in here, because that paint’s a reminder of...well, everything that happened here, but specifically the punch, the blood, the…” Kristoff took a deep breath before sighing out the last word, “...scream.”

Anna couldn’t deny that it unsettled her, too. She thought the punch was justified, but she was not a violent person; even violence in movies made her uncomfortable.

But she could see in Kristoff’s eyes that he didn’t want to do something like that ever again. She knew he didn’t regret the action; he regretted the pain.

“Kristoff…” Anna began to say.

“Anna, I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole. I’m really, truly sorry. I was just—”

“You were protecting yourself, I get it,” Anna interrupted. “Believe me, I do. I just…” She sighed deeply. “...I just wish you hadn’t pushed me away in the process.”

“Yeah, I just hope you can forgive me for that. And I shouldn't have said all those things to you out there. I'm so sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I accept your apology and I forgive you,” Anna said with a matter-of-fact cadence. “And, y’know, if you want to...pretend that last night never happened, then it never happened. If you want to be just friends, then—”

“Yeah, that’s the tricky thing,” Kristoff butted in. “I, uh...I lied, earlier.”

Anna’s brow furrowed. “...About what?”

“Well…” Kristoff paused, as though he was holding back the words he knew he wanted to say. “...I think sex means a lot.” When Anna’s facial expression didn’t change, he continued. “...Because I like you. Like, a lot.”

Anna’s heart and mind entered a brutal tug-of-war at Kristoff’s admittance. She thought and felt so many different thoughts and feelings all at the same time, all of which manifested in stunned silence.

Anna blinked. “You...really?”

“Um…” Kristoff wasn’t sure what reaction he was expecting from Anna, but it certainly wasn’t what he was faced with at this moment. “...yeah. And, well, that’s why I didn’t want to get close to you, because the last time I let that happen it ended up fucking me over.”

“Yeah…” Anna was still trying to reconcile her own feelings; there was a small part of her that felt hesitant, but there was a much larger part that kept saying he likes me over and over.

“But, I mean, we slept together last night, which was great by the way, so either I didn’t learn anything from last time or I just like you too much.”

“Well, I don’t see anything wrong with that second option.” Her thoughts were settling somewhat, landing on the idea that his confession made her happy more than anything else. She flashed him an easy smile that he returned for a moment.

“Yes, definitely, but...I don’t know, I just...I don’t want to have to punch anyone again, y’know?”

“Yeah, I get it.” Anna ran her fingers through her hair. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I know what it’s like to be cheated on too.”

Kristoff smiled. He felt for her, but there was something comforting about knowing Anna had had similar experiences. “Listen, Anna...as much as I like you, and I think you’re beautiful and funny and sexy and...well, you get the idea. I just can’t get into another relationship right now.”

“Okay,” Anna responded. “And thank you, that’s very flattering. Like I said, if you can’t be anything more than friends with me right now, that’s totally fine. I won’t be upset. I’m just glad you finally came clean to me.”

“Yeah, I am too, actually,” Kristoff agreed. “I feel like, well...I feel like I don’t need to pretend I don’t like you anymore.”

“Yeah, please don’t do that,” Anna said, only half-joking. “So, we’re friends?”

Kristoff smiled. “That sounds good to me.”

“Alright.” Anna returned the smile. She loved seeing Kristoff happy. She hoped she would see his smile a lot more often in the near future, now that he was ditching his aloof attitude.

“Hey, can I...can I give you a hug? A friend hug?” Anna asked, gingerly extending her arms.

Kristoff took a breath. Start being nice right now, he said to himself. “Sure,” he mumbled. They both stood and wrapped their arms around each other. It was a comforting, safe embrace, one that felt like a resolution to each of their struggles, before and after they met each other. They understood each other better than they knew. They pulled apart and sighed simultaneously. There was no tension or awkwardness, and, Anna noticed, Kristoff seemed to be more at ease in her room.

“So,” Anna said, “I actually have to do some stuff for work that I’ve been putting off.”

“Oh, okay, that’s—yeah, I’ll leave,” Kristoff responded.

“Oh no no, I didn’t mean I want you to leave.”

“Yeah, I—”

“Like I don’t want you to leave, I mean, I like having you around and everything.”

“No, really, it’s—”

“I just have stuff to do and—”

“Anna, it’s fine ,” Kristoff said with a chuckle. “I’m not offended.”

“Okay,” Anna said, taking a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll see you.”

“See ya,” Kristoff said, stepping toward the door.

Anna suddenly realized she still felt guilty for some reason. She couldn’t tell exactly why, but her conscience still poked at her back. Was she forgetting something?

“Kristoff?” Anna called out, hoping she would remember in the time it took for him to turn around.

“Hmm?” he responded, half-turning back to look at her. His bright eyes and soft smile instantly reminded her.

I’m never yelling at that adorable face ever again.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. I know I said it in my note but I wanted to apologize to you in person too.”

Kristoff laughed. “It’s fine. I would've yelled at me too. And I really should be thanking you—you and Sven both—for pulling my head out of my ass.”

Anna snorted. “Hah! Yeah,” she conceded. Kristoff stepped past the door and shut it behind him.

Anna took a deep breath and recounted all the revelations from that conversation. Kristoff had been cheated on. Another person’s blood was on the wall in her room. Kristoff had feelings for her. He had tried to push her away because of how strong his feelings towards her were. She smiled at that thought. He really was the big softie Sven and Ryder kept saying he is. She already liked Kristoff a lot, but she expected that with all of that out in the open now, he’d become significantly more likable in the near future.

[the-delta-42]

Taken to be Returned

Inspired by This by @lenoreofraven

This one-shot will have mentions of torture, death and assault, read at your own risk.

Taken to be returned

“M’Lady, I know that this may be a bad time, given we’re in the middle of dealing with an Akuma and,” Chat dodged a rock thrown at him, “My Girlfriend and I were talking and we were thinking of expanding our relationship.”

“That nice.” Muttered Ladybug, ducking a rock, “Why are you bringing it up?”

“Well, she and I were talking and there’s this other girl that we both like and we don’t know how to tell her.” Said Chat, jumping from roof to roof.

“Have a normal conversation with her, ask her if she wants to join you two.” Said Ladybug, ignoring the sharp pang in her chest.

“Do you think Marinette will really want to?” Asked Chat, making Ladybug stumble and nearly fall off the roof.

Before Ladybug could recover, an arm wrapped around her neck. Her blood ran cold as the mocking laughter of Hawkmoth rang out.

“Oh, this was too easy.” Sneered Hawkmoth, as he started to drag Ladybug away.

Ladybug thrashed and screamed and bit Hawkmoth, who only tightened his hold around her neck, squeezing until she passed out.

TtbR

Ladybug woke to a cage inside a big plastic cube, inside another cage. Her hands immediately went to her ears, finding them bare. A lump started to form in Marinette’s throat, Hawkmoth now had Tikki. Marinette’s heart then froze when she realised that Hawkmoth now knew who she was, he could target her friends and family at any time.

“I hope you find your accommodations suitable,” Said Hawkmoth, as he walked into the room, “Having this built wasn’t easy.”

“Where’s Tikki?” Demanded Marinette, jumping to her feet, “What have you done to her?”

“It is where it belongs, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng.” Said Hawkmoth, as the door unlocked, allowing him to stalk towards her, “If I were you, I’d be more concerned about myself.”

Marinette smirked at him, “I guess that was sets us apart, you only care about yourself and how it’ll benefit you, I much prefer to have others experiencing things with me.”

Hawkmoth Glared, before drawing his hand back and hitting Marinette, knocking her on her to the ground.

“Where’s the Miracle box?” Demanded Hawkmoth, as he stood over her, “I know the Guardian left it with you and I know it’s not in your room, because I would’ve found it.”

Marinette suddenly felt violated, having Hawkmoth tell her that he’d been in her room. It also told her that he didn’t look very hard.

“You really think I’d tell you?” Asked Marinette, her face set in complete defiance.

“You will.” Said Hawkmoth, as he drew his leg back.

The beating Hawkmoth gave her lasted at least three hours, Marinette was satisfied that she had managed to get a few hits back on him.

A couple of hours later Mayura walked into the room, presumably to continue Hawkmoth’s work.

The next day the beatings continued, then the next week they started to electrocute her, burn her, cut into her, stripped her, jam two very hot needles into her back and near drown her. Marinette coughed up water, as Mayura stared down at her. Hawkmoth had to leave because Marinette bit down on him.

“You know that if you just tell us, all this will stop.” Said Mayura, running her hand along Marinette’s back, “Just tell us where the box is, and we’ll let you go.”

“Fuck off.” Marinette grumbled, trying not to shiver.

“Well, you can’t say you weren’t offered an alternative.” Said Mayura, drawing her hand back.

TtbR

Marinette lied on her side as Mayura entered the cell, she had been stuck here for over a month and yesterday they made the mistake of giving her a metal knife and fork. If she recalled correctly, Mayura was bringing her food today. Marinette heard a tray be set down.

“You’re lucky.” Growled Mayura, “Hawkmoth is on a business trip, so you won’t be getting your usual treatment this week.”

Marinette heard Mayura walk closer, before she quickly rolled over and jammed the fork into Mayura’s ankle. Mayura screamed as her leg buckled, allowing Marinette to repeatedly punch her in the face, before she grabbed the Peacock Miraculous and tore it off her. Marinette then slammed her head against the wall, until she was certain Mayura wasn’t going to get up again any time soon.

Marinette looked down at herself, before she decided to take Mayura’s clothes. Marinette rolled Mayrua over and recoiled at the sight of Nathalie Sancouer, Gabriel Agreste’s Assistant. Marinette quickly put the pieces together in her head and started removing Nathalie of her clothes and putting them on herself.

Marinette though she looked ridiculous, since the clothes were slightly too big for her, before holding the Peacock Miraculous tightly in her hand and limping out of the cell. Marinette wandered through the labyrinth of corridors, before she came across the door. She struggled to get it open, carefully ramming her shoulder against it, until it suddenly swung open before she could make contact with it again.

TtbR

“Okay,” Said Alya, as most of the class and Kagami sat in Gabriel Agreste’s office, “so, Ladybug has been missing for what, six weeks?”

“Six weeks, three days, 12 hours, nine minutes and seventeen seconds.” Said Max, looking up from his laptop.

“And Marinette’s been ‘on a trip’ for roughly the same amount of time.” Said Alya, “We can’t look for Marinette because,”

“The Police don’t know she’s missing and will try and fine us if we walk around with her picture.” Said Sabrina, her arms folded, ever since Chloe had been placed under house arrest, Marinette had been her main friend.

“And someone will eventually realise that maybe there’s a correlation between two missing girls and say ‘Hey, I found Ladybug’s identity!’.” Said Alya, as Adrien looked up from his father’s safe.

“Alya, I had to tell you and even then, you didn’t believe me.” Deadpanned Adrien, as he started looking back into his father’s safe.

“Along with the official story of Marinette being on a trip to her aunt being a reasonable cover, seeing how we met her Aunt Maeve a couple months back.” Said Mylene, before Alix shushed her.

“I hear something.” Said Alix, as a soft thump came from the other side of the painting of Adrien’s mother.

“Okay, that one leads to a safe, where does that on lead to?” Demanded Alix, pointing at another portrait of Emilie Agreste.

“No idea.” Said Adrien, as he slowly approached the painting. A few more thumps sounded, before he grabbed the corner and tugged at it, before he quickly grabbed the other side and tugged, making it swing wide open, allowing a certain French-Asian girl to topple through.

“MARINETTE!” Yelled a multitude of voices.

“Wow, she looks like hell.” Said Alix, as Marinette struggled to get up.

“Earrings.” Marinette rasped, as she tried to look around.

“Hey, hey,” Said Adrien, fishing the studs from his pocket, “I have them here, see?” He held his hand out, presenting the earrings to Marinette, which flickered as she touched them, allowing Tikki to take form.

“I already told you, I’m not going to serve someone who- MARINETTE!” Tikki shrieked as she caught sight of her chosen.

Marinette’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and her world went dark.

TtbR

The heart monitor that was linked up to Marinette held a steady beat, as orderly’s and other medical practitioners walked around the room.

“Multiple burn wounds, possible nerve damage,” One orderly listed for the doctor, “There seems to be some tearing around her genitals, but we haven’t checked any further. The x-rays show that she’s had some broken bones, along with some severe fractures along her arms and legs, some minor internal bleeding. The police are going to want a full report on this, since it’s doubtful that she was alone.”

The doctor frowned, casting an eye over the girl, “Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, 18 years old, currently studying at College Francis Dupont, at least that’s what I’ve managed to find out about her. Is she a frequent patient?”

“No, the last time anyone remembers seeing her here was ten years ago when she broke her arm falling out of a tree.” Replied an orderly, “She’s had quite a few visitors, mind you, Classmates, friends, extended family, I hear that even her brothers and sister have come back.”

“You’re familiar with the family?” Questioned the Doctor.

“Yeah, Toby and I go way back, long before he caught the travelling bug from his grandmother and took off to see the world.” Responded the orderly, before they cast a quick look around and leaning towards the doctor, “Although, mind you, there have been rumours that this girl isn’t, um, how do you say it? Not all there.”

Before the doctor could respond, a nurse stuck her head in the door, “The police and Dupain-Cheng’s are here to get the diagnosis for the patient.”

The doctor sighed, he hated being the barer of bad news for families.

TtbR

Everyone was packed into the lounge when Tom and Sabine returned, the door closing with a slam, making everyone jump.

Tom stormed past them and towards a cupboard, while Sabine shuffled into the room. Her eyes were red and swollen.

“What’s the damage?” Asked Alix, her tone sombre.

“Marinette might not be able to see or hear out of her right side anymore,” Snarled Tom, “She’s going to have some trouble standing once her leg’s fixed and that’s not counting any of the psychological issues she’ll have to deal with.”

“T-they also believe that she m-may have been r-r-” Sabine was cut off by Ivan.

“They think she was raped.” His tone was level, but his face showed a storm that was brewing underneath his wall.

Sabine let out a choked sob, as the air in the room grew thick.

“Where did you all find her?” Asked Tom, looking at the class.

Everyone was silent, unsure how to break the news to the pair.

Adrien broke the silence, “My father made alterations to the mansion.”

Tom stilled, before he slowly turned and looked at Adrien.

“Your father,” Said Tom, slowly, “had her?”

“Nathalie knew, although I haven’t seen or heard from her all day, which is weird,” Said Adrien, his mind deviating slightly, “but she was being kept in a room hidden by a painting of my mum, we wouldn’t’ve found her if Alix wasn’t there.”

Tom looked at Alix, before looking back at Adrien, his expression darkening.

“If I find out that you knew, I’ll-” Tom was interrupted.

“Adrien didn’t know about the doorway,” Alya interrupted, making Tom switch from Adrien to Alya, “he was the one that actually started the search, especially considering the little fact that he told us.”

“Fact?” Demanded Tom, his gaze back on Adrien.

“In my defence, I only found out by accident, I saw Marinette de-transforming and-”

“De-what?” Asked Tom completely lost.

“Wait, you don’t know?” Came Adrien’s response.

“Know what?” Asked Sabine, looking at the boy.

There was a continuous silence, which was broken by a cackle.

Everyone jumped at the sudden noise, before a small black cat floated out of Adrien’s chest. The noise was almost nasally, cackling away as they floated to the centre of the room.

“I have to say, kid,” Laughed the creature, “telling the Ladyblogger pigtails is Ladybug is one thing but outing her identity to her parents takes the camembert.”

“I thought they knew, Marinette has a great bond with her parents, she would’ve told them!” Adrien protested, his face going red in shame and embarrassment.

The creature only continued to laugh, while Adrien tried to hide in his own shirt.

TtbR

Marinette took a sharp intake of breath, she cast her eyes around the room she was in. It looked like a standard hospital room, completely filled with flowers, chocolates and other gifts. What drew Marinette’s attention was the sight of Kagami sleeping in the chair next to the bed.

Marinette tried to sit up, only to get a sharp sting racing through her nerves, making her let out a grunt of pain. Kagami jump and looked straight at Marinette.

“You’re awake!” Cried Kagami, throwing her arms around Marinette, who let out another grunt, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

“What happened?” Rasped Marinette, making Kagami disappear and reappear with a cup of water.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Asked Kagami, leaning forwards.

Marinette thought back, “Tikki.”

Marinette froze, before she started looking around the room frantically, moving to get out of the bed.

“The earrings are safe, they’re with Adrien.” Kagami exclaimed, trying to get Marinette to lie back down, “Adrien is with your parents and they’ll be here later.”

There was a cough from the doorway, making the two girls look over. Adrien stood awkwardly in the door, looking as if he had a gun placed against his back.

“H-hi, Marinette.” Stuttered Adrien, making Marinette cock her head.

“Adrien,” Stated Marinette, “is everything alright?”

“Y-yeah, everything’s fine.” Adrien stammered, “W-why do you ask?”

“Because you look like you’ve had a vibrator set to its highest setting shoved up your butt and you’re trying to hold a conversation.” Came the deadpan reply.

There was a little giggle behind Adrien, which then turned into a snorting laughter. Marinette looked behind Adrien, spotting the majority of the class standing behind him. Alix was snorting away, while Adrien tried to keep his face from going red.

TtbR

“Okay, so,” Said Marinette, looking around her, “you guys couldn’t look for me, because I wasn’t listed as missing, Adrien found out my identity and blurted it out to Alya, who in turn told everyone else and then they found out Agreste was Hawkmoth.”

“More or less.” Said Nino, who shifted uneasily, “Luka wanted to be here, but his job wouldn’t let him.”

Marinette absently nodded, before her eyes widened, “Shit, Adrien, you need to get home, Nathalie has a concussion from when I smashed her head against a wall.”

Adrien was silent, Nathalie had been removed when the Police had searched the house and it’s many hidden areas, he didn’t have the heart to tell her that Nathalie was dead, Marinette’s mental state was fragile enough as it is.

Marinette picked up on the shift in tone, “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

Everyone remained silent, not sure how to respond.

“W-well, the police are classing it a self-defence a-and aren’t going to charge you with anything.” Said Sabrina, trying to sound optimistic.

“Are you alright?” Asked Rose, staring at Marinette with concern.

“Y-yeah, I, um,” Marinette whispered, “I think I’d like to be alone for a while please.”

No one wanted to leave but allow themselves to be herded out when Marinette had repeated her request. Marinette was staring down at her hands while everyone left the room. She’d killed someone, sure it was one of her captors who had violated her on a personal level, but she didn’t want to kill her. Her hands had turned red, Marinette first thought that it was her suit, only to notice the lack of spots, then she saw how it smeared. Marinette then knew what it was, blood. Marinette started rubbing her hands together, slowly picking up the pace, until she was frantically scrubbing away at her hands, everything was becoming blurry, then the world went dark.

TtbR

Marinette woke up to her parents next to her, how could they look so calm? Why weren’t they repulsed that their own child was a murderer?

Marinette started to curl up into a ball, as her frame started trembling, her mouth speaking without her thinking, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry,” repeating continuously, until they could get a doctor in to sedate her.

Tom and Sabine shared a look, this was going to a long and painful process.

Adrien had heard Marinette from outside the room, he had agreed to helping the police try and get his father back into the country. They hoped that he’d fall for it.

TtbR

Kagami and Adrien were sat on the bed next to Marinette, with Marinette in between them, they found that Marinette slept better when someone was with her. Adrien didn’t know how he was going to bring the relationship idea up to her again, since he didn’t know how she was going to react. Marinette stirred slightly, Kagami scooting down to place and arm around Marinette, who started to settle back down.

“Have you told her yet?” Asked Kagami, looking up at Adrien.

“I told her who I was, and I think she connected the dots on her own.” Adrien replied, “I don’t know what her answer is, though.”

“Did you tell her that I knew?” Kagami questioned, making Marinette sit bolt upright.

“WAIT, WHAT?!”

Adrien and Kagami winced and covered their ears, while Marinette gaped at them.

“Marinette,” Squeaked Adrien, his face pale, “I thought you were asleep.”

“You revealed your identity to a civilian.” Said Marinette, her jaw agape.

“Actually, she figured it out on her own.” Adrien lied, getting a thump from Marinette, “OW!”

“Don’t. Lie.” Marinette seethed, rolling over, facing away from Adrien.

“Are we going to get an answer?” Asked Kagami, looking down at Marinette’s head.

“Yes.” Came the muffled reply, before Marinette tugged them down.

TtbR

Marinette nervously shifted as the car pulled up at the Bakery, she had just been discharged from hospital. The doctors had said that most of the issues now were psychological and had arranged for a counsellor to be placed at the school for her. There was the odd stare from a random passer-by, apparently someone had leaked that she had been missing. Which of course blew up with theories and speculation, with no one willing to give any answers.

Marinette let out a little whimper, as the paparazzi photographed the car.

“Well, this is going well.” Kagami commented, idly, “Let’s wait for the crowd to clear up.”

There was a sound reminiscent of a gunshot, making everyone duck.

“That’s our que.” Said Adrien, he and Kagami grabbing hold of Marinette and running into the Bakery, where Marinette saw Michael holding a rifle.

The door closed rather noisily on a reporter’s face, with Michael giving a smug grin and wave to them.

“Idiots.” Muttered Michael, as Marinette was guided up the stairs.

Adrien pushed the door open, Kagami gently ushered Marinette in, everyone getting to their feet. Alya rushed towards Marinette, wrapping her arms around the French-Asian girl, it wasn’t long before Marinette broke down.

Adrien’s phone buzzed with a text message, glancing down, his father was demanding where he was and where Nathalie was. Cold hatred coiled in Adrien’s gut. Gabriel had kidnapped Marinette, beaten her, assaulted her, tortured her within an inch of her life and performed unspeakable acts on her, just because he felt he had the right over everyone else.

Adrien ignored his father’s text, quietly sending a message to Officer Raincomprix, telling the Police Officer that his father was at the Mansion.

Kagami held onto Marinette, gently caressing her hair.

“Can someone turn the tv on?” Asked Adrien, “I want to watch the news.”

“Why?” Demanded Alix, “Marinette’s just come home and the news is going to be in the paper tomorrow.”

“I think this is something Marinette is going to want to see.” Said Adrien, as the tv turned on.

“Don’t be bemused, it’s just news,” Said Nadja, as she appeared on screen, “Earlier this evening, Police received an anonymous tip that the location of Hawkmoth has been found. Hawkmoth has terrorised Paris for the past five years and has managed to evade both the Police and our resident Super-heroes, Ladybug and Chat Noir, he has also killed thirteen people in the past two months, since he abducted Ladybug during one of his Akuma attacks.”

The room was tense.

“It is unknown if Ladybug is still alive, but Police are converging on the docks of Paris, in the hopes of cornering Hawkmoth, with the intention to bring him to justice. Chat Noir has refused to give a statement on the matter, as have the three new heroes who arrived to assist him since Ladybug’s abduction.” Nadja looked directly into the camera, “I say this now as a citizen of Paris, not as a News caster, Hawkmoth, if Ladybug isn’t alive, then there will be blood.”

“The fun fact is, the Police aren’t going to the docks,” Said Adrien, leaning back in his chair, “Gabriel isn’t going to know what hit him when he gets home.”

“Unfortunately, more of Hawkmoth’s minions are being routed out, as well as the number of dead growing.” Said Nadja, “The list of Hawkmoth’s minions now includes Andre Glacier, Lila Rossi, Samuel Marcus, Richard Allen, Felix de Graham-Villani, Hector Damocles, Simon Jonas, Jalil Kubdel and, the now deceased, Nathalie Sancoeur.”

Marinette flinched, making Kagami and Adrien wrap an arm around her.

“Nathalie Sancoeur was killed when a previous captive managed to break free, that captive has not been named, nor will they be prosecuted, as they were acting in self-defence, they were found in an alley not far from College Francis Dupont. They are currently still in hospital with both Police and Medical professionals monitoring them, as of yet, they have not woken or shown any sign of waking up. Sancoeur’s body was found not far from where the captive was found, with a Miraculous in her possession, Chat Noir has been reported to believe that Ms. Sancoeur was Mayura and aided Hawkmoth in his abductions.” Nadja continued to report, “The List of the dead now include Otis Césaire, Rolland Dupain, Andre Bourgeois, Amelie de Graham-Villani, Christopher Lahiffe, Fredrick Haprele, Wang Fu, Marianne Lenoire, Wang Cheng, Man-Manon Chamack,” Nadja’s voice cracked, “and Xavier Ramier. Marlena, Nora, Etta and Ella Césaire are still in hospital in critical condition, and Tomoe Tsurugi, Gina Dupain, Caline Bustier, Audrey and Chloe Bourgeois and Anarka Couffaine have all be stabilized and are recovering.”

“Hawkmoth’s started planting bombs.” Said Kim, “Every time a minion of his is found, another one goes off. The most recent one was at School, during the PTC.”

“And that’s not counting those attacks in the streets, that’s how they got Ramier.” Said Alya, bitterly, “How they got my family.”

“Apparently, Lila had been feeding Hawkmoth information, when she was caught, the number of attacks reduced, but not enough to save more people.” Murmured Nino, “They say the full list is a good fifty-one-hundred and fifty people, they actually brought the army in.”

“Lila’s parents have practically disowned her, given her connections with Hawkmoth.” Said Rose, her voice quiet, “This is possibly the best news we’ve had since all this started.”

“What is?” Asked Marinette, looking at them.

“You came back.” Said Mylene, “We all thought that you were one of the first victims, but Adrien said, ‘no body, not dead’, every time it was brought up.”

“They’re talking about setting up support groups to help the traumatized,” Said Michael, leaning into the room, “And anyone else who’s been fortunate enough to survive, although they may not see it that way.”

“Do we know who else is missing?” Asked Marinette, looking at the class.

“Madame Mendeleiev, Marc, Mirelle, Aurore, a couple of people from Adrien’s fencing group and some others from the higher and lower years.” Responded Alix, “We think they were taken because they either tried to intervene or because they’re close to you.”

“He was demanding to know where the Miracle Box was.” Marinette murmured, “He didn’t look very well, since he said he couldn’t find it in my room.”

“Because it’s not there.” Said Adrien, “After you were taken, Kagami and I snuck in and hid it somewhere.”

Marinette stared at the two, “Where did you hide it?”

Kagami looked over at a basket next to the sofa. Marinette shuffle-limped over and lifted the lid, spotting the Miracle Box, unopened.

“Your room was trashed, by the way.” Said Kagami, moving to stand next to Marinette.

“I think I’m just glad it’s still here.” Said Marinette, looking down at the box.

“News just in,” Came Nadja’s voice, making everyone look at the screen, “Gabriel Agreste has been arrested in the charges of being Hawkmoth. Police observed Mr. Agreste entering a hidden room in his home, before he became Hawkmoth, Police were alerted to Mr. Agreste being Hawkmoth by his son, Adrien, after he stumbled across the room whilst exploring the house. Adrien alerted Police and Emergency Medical services after he discovered one of the missing people, as well as the body of Ms. Nathalie Sancoeur. Mr. Agreste has been loudly protesting his arrest, claiming that he needed the Miraculous to being back his wife. Mrs. Emilie Agreste has been missing, and presumed dead, for six years, more information will be given as the situation unfolds.”

“Game, set and match.” Said Adrien, folding his arms, “What do you think will happen to him?”

“Life in prison.”

“Give everything up.”

“Get a light slap on the wrist and placed under police protection.”

Everyone looked at Alix.

“Alix wins?”

There were mutterings of agreement.

“Now what do we do?” Asked Marinette, making Adrien and Kagami appear either side of her.

“You go up to bed and get some rest.” Said Adrien, as he and Kagami linked arms with Marinette and led her up the stairs.

TtbR

Marinette looked around the school.

“They’ve redecorated.” Said Marinette, looking at a poster, “I don’t like it.”

“I’m amazed that they pulled everything together so quickly.” Said Alya, making Marinette blush, “You had something to do with that, didn’t you?”

“Well, I couldn’t bring the dead back, so I figured that I could at least help with the repairs.” Mumbled Marinette, twisting her fingers together.

“I suppose Adrien and Kagami couldn’t stop you.” Stated Alya, “How long have you been helping out?”

“…three and a half months?” Came the sheepish reply.

“Girl, you are going to be the death of us all.”

“I hope not, I like you being alive.”

“Hey.” Marinette and Alya turned around and spotted Chloe as she wheeled towards them.

Chloe had been rendered paraplegic from the explosion that killed her father, ironically it had been the same explosion that pushed Chloe and her mother closer together.

“Did you see what happened yesterday?” Asked Chloe, as Sabrina hurried up to her.

“If you’re referring to Adrien almost killing Gabriel, I was there in person.” Said Marinette, “Luka still has the black eye.”

“Adrien punched Luka?” Asked Sabrina, cocking her head.

“No, security punched Luka, he was helping Adrien.” Said Marinette, folding her arms, “Kagami wasn’t sure whether she should punch them or if she should kiss them.”

Chloe nodded, “And, how are you?”

Marinette nervously shifted from one foot to the other, “I’m getting better, I’m still relegated to behind the scenes work, since the last impression I left on that guy.”

“I heard his brains were leaking out.” Said Alix, as she appeared next to them.

“No, they weren’t.” Said Marinette, folding her arms.

Everyone was silent.

“Do you think anything will happen?”

“To what? The school? The city?”

“To us.”

Marinette was silent as she pondered on Sabrina’s question.

“I think that past few months have shown what would happen, and besides, we still have a few more things to clear up.” Said Marinette, “I hear that we’re merging with another school.”

“Makes sense, since our Principle preferred to bend over backwards for the rich and the Head of IT was a paedophile,” Said Alix, “I heard that they were going through with this because they were broke.”

“building wise or money wise?” Asked Alya, looking at the pink haired girl.

“Dunno.” Shrugged Alix, folding her arms, “I just know that all the teachers are doing a refresher course to bring them up to date with the common practices.”

They were silent.

“So, what happens now?” Asked Alya, as the rest of the class started to file in.

“We move on, rebuild,” Said Marinette, leaning against Adrien as he sat down, “We heal.”

Okay, I just spotted an error in this, I listed Marinette's age as 16 but then said Hawkmoth had been active for five years, which would have then made her 18, so I changed Marinette's from 16 to 18 to keep the continuity, because otherwise it would mean she became Ladybug when she was 11

[kasprzaks]

eddie kasprzak, reactionary extraordinaire

both   balloons   tethered   to   the   microfilm   recorder   now   read   ASTHMA   MEDICINE   GIVES   YOU  CANCER!   below   the   slogan   are   grinning   skulls. 

eddie’s characterisation flooding its way into the third person narrator in the book ESPECIALLY in eddie’s bad break is amazing and i’d die for it. his voice elsewhere in the book is very poetic and looks at things more conceptually than solidly, but the more of a grounding in this chapter while his head runs wild continues and tries to comprehend such a horrible conversation (specifically looking at his convo with mr keene in eddie’s bad break p2) succeeds so much to solidify him as a character outside of just what he says and does. i love it so here’s an entire collection that shows his reactions and the intensity he reaches as he buries himself in his brain in such a difficult situation and how it’s integrated into the prose in such a way we really feel like we’re living in his head despite the third person gap we have to cross to get there.

                 ‘Mr Keene,' he says, and his voice sounds distant to his own ears, without power. 'It was Mr Keene.'

                 'Not exactly the nicest man in Derry,' Mike says, but Eddie, lost in his thoughts, barely hears him.

... eddie always always has a whole thing of trying to be brave (and in this chapter he’s always saying something along the lines of what would big bill do?) but, in the process, manages to get so worked up he’s at a disconnect to what’s actually going on. as he starts to recall the memory with the rest of the losers 27 years later, he starts retreating into his own head because that’s simply how he is. he’s such a thinker that even the second he says it, he’s fading out. he barely hears him. this follows on as he recalls the memory and it’s contrary to the rest of the book where, normally, since we see eddie through someone else’s eyes (third person limited omniscient since the book is made up of multiple third person narrations), we only really see him being quiet as opposed to the actual physical disconnect we see when it is an eddie third person limited in complicated moments.

                 Mr Keene sat down in the swivel chair behind his desk and took one. Then he opened his drawer and took something out. He put it down next to the tall bottle of licorice whips and Eddie felt real alarm course through him. It was an aspirator. Mr Keene tilted back in his swivel chair until his head was almost touching the calendar on the wall behind him. The picture on the calendar showed more pills. It said SQUIBB. And —

                — and for one nightmare moment, when Mr Keene opened his mouth to speak, Eddie remembered what had happened in the shoe store when he was just a little kid, when his mother had screamed at him for putting his foot in the X-ray machine. For that one nightmare moment Eddie thought Mr Keene would say: 'Eddie, nine out of ten doctors agree that asthma medicine gives you cancer, just like the X-ray machines they used to have in the shoe stores. You've probably got it already. Just thought you ought to know.'

... he struggles to stay in the moment and this is just how he is his whole life. i’m gonna reference it chapter two for a second but the fact that his job in that version was a risk analyst? god send, they really hit the nail on the head for what they were trying to do in that interpretation there and i totally see how they got to it because risk analysing is just what he does. in this part where he sits down with mr keene, the convo hasn’t even begun. no one’s said a word and yet the second mr keene shows promise of saying anything, mr active imagination risk analyst eddie kasprzak has already thought up everything and dreamt himself into oblivion. scenarios exist without ever fully existing and in any given moment he’s already left reality and hopped onto another universe where the worst has just or will just happen.

                 Mr Keene wrapped a bunched, bony, liverspotted hand around the balloon and squeezed. The balloon bulged over and under his fist and Eddie winced, trying to get ready for the pop. Simultaneously he felt his breathing stop altogether. He leaned over the desk and grabbed for the aspirator on the blotter. His shoulder struck the heavy ice-cream-soda glass. It toppled off the desk and shattered on the floor like a bomb.

                 Eddie heard that only dimly. He was clawing the top off the aspirator, slamming the nozzle into his mouth, triggering it off. He took a tearing heaving breath, his thoughts a ratrun of panic as they always were at moments like this: Please Mommy I'm suffocating I can't BREATHE oh my dear God oh dear Jesus meekandmild I can't BREATHE phase I don't want to die don't want to die oh please —

                Then the fog from the aspirator condensed on the swollen walls of his throat and he could breathe again.

                'I'm sorry,' he said, nearly crying. 'I'm sorry about the glass . . . I'll clean it up and pay for it . . . just please don't tell my mother, okay? I'm sorry, Mr Keene, but I couldn't breathe —

... gets very caught up on one thing. he does this whole whole chapter. it goes on in the next quote here ...

                'Good,' Mr Keene said. 'We have an understanding. And you feel much better now, don't you?'

                Eddie nodded.

                'Why?'

                'Why? Well . . . because I had my medicine.' He looked at Mr Keene the way he looked at Mrs Casey in school when he had given an answer he wasn't quite sure of.

                'But you didn't have any medicine,' Mr Keene said. 'You had a placebo.A placebo, Eddie, is something that looks like medicine and tastes like medicine but isn't medicine. A placebo isn't medicine because it has no active ingredients. Or, if it is medicine, it's medicine of a very special sort. Head-medicine.' Mr Keene smiled. 'Do you understand that, Eddie? Head-medicine.'

                Eddie understood, all right; Mr Keene was telling him he was crazy. But through numb lips he said, 'No, I don't get you.'

... it’s hard to understand that this is the truth, let alone why he’s being told this. obviously eddie’s determined on the fact that he’s not crazy, but the main part up until this point i got caught up on was his continued disconnect and mostly passive not wanting to change at all attitude so he can get out of there. the numb lips and the references before to having his voice being distant, him constantly disappearing off into the tangents his head brings him on. there’s few and far between moments where he actually responds in between mr keene telling him what he’s telling him, and the prose between that is him thinking (panickingly thinking), filled with him trying to dream up other things and trying to ground himself in thinks he can compare the unfamiliar to. i especially love the cut in, in the first quote that sk puts through the whole book of another narration coming straight from eddie’s head. the stream of panic to really push it through.

                Eddie said: 'My medicine does so work.'

                'I know it does,' Mr Keene replied, and smiled a maddening complacent grownup's smile. 'It works on your chest because it works on your head. HydrOx, Eddie, is water with a dash of camphor thrown in to give it a medicine taste.'

                'No,' Eddie said. His breath had begun to whistle again.

                Mr Keene drank some of his soda, spooned some of the melting ice cream, and fastidiously wiped his chin with his handkerchief while Eddie used his aspirator again.

                'I want to go now,' Eddie said.

                'Let me finish, please.'

                'No! I want to go, you've got your money and I want to go!'                 ...                'I'm not crazy,' Eddie whispered, the words coming out in a bare husk.Mr Keene's chair creaked like a monstrous cricket. 'What?''I said I'm not crazy!' Eddie shouted. Then, immediately, a miserable blush rose into his face.

... the moment the panic finally takes over and becomes enough. strangely (thought it makes total sense when thinking about how internal eddie is versus when he’s finally had enough and gets pushed over the edge) he really does lash out. he’s immediately embarrassed that he’s done it, but he does do it. he switches from the passive life line carrying on in his brain he’s hoping will carry him out of the situation, and tries to get out of it before the emotional gets too much and really tries to put a stop to it. all in good time, too, because when eddie finally does leave ...

               Eddie's brain thudded and whirled. Oh, he felt sick, he felt very sick.                 ...                 He slipped it into his pocket and watched the traffic pass back and forth, headed up Main Street and down Up-Mile Hill. He tried not to think. The sun beat down on his head, blaringly hot. Each passing car threw bright darts of reflection into his eyes, and a headache was starting in his temples.

... emphasis on the sensory and the physical manifestations of his emotions. he feels so strongly and the physical ramifications comes as a result of his anxiety. his head aches, his ‘asthma’ is acting up. of course he takes his inhaler but a few moments later and ... 

              He looked fixedly at the aspirator, unaware of the old lady who glanced curiously at him as she passed on down the hill toward Main Street with her shopping basket over her arm. He felt betrayed. And for one moment he almost cast the plastic squeeze bottle into the gutter — better yet, he thought, throw it down that sewer– grating. Sure! Why not? Let It have it down there in Its tunnels and dripping sewer-pipes. Have a pla–cee-bo, you hundred-faced creep! He uttered a wild laugh and came within an ace of doing it. But in the end, habit was simply too strong. He replaced the aspirator in his right front pants pocket and walked on, hardly hearing the occasional blare of a horn or the diesel drone of the Bassey Park bus as it passed him. He was likewise unaware of how close he was to discovering what being hurt — really hurt — was all about.

... this is straying away from the actual point of the post slightly, but, as it says, habit remains too strong. he’s a character that almost always returns to the ‘comfortable’, though familiar is actually a much better word for it. to return to the point of the post in regards to this, though this time the technique isn’t exclusive to eddie centric chapters, all of the losers get cut in moments of it, i especially love eddie’s thought process tied into this moment straight up verbatim. though it’s tragic that he doesn’t follow through and chuck the aspirator down the drain (though completely understandable too), this moment ties into everything else we see of the intricacies of eddie’s inner world and how it’s obviously a full one. he really does live up there. humouring any and all possibilities no matter how out there or terrible they may seem is something that he constantly does, it’s who he is. eddie lives in the hypothetical. i think this chapter really demonstrates that and lets eddie’s discomfort become so overwhelming that it’s so difficult to even pay attention to what’s going on which totally brings us into eddie’s psyche. concentrating is difficult when you could run upstairs and live there. it’s comfortable, it’s familiar, and it doesn’t really hurt as much as the real.

[planeis]

Athletic Truth Group / Knees Over Toes Guy program Review: Week 1

A week by week, hopefully, review of this mobility program and updates on how its affecting me. Hopefully for the better.

TL/DR: Basically I was clued into who Ben Patrick (Knees Over Toes Guy) by the above video that was in my TikTok feed last week. Did a little digging and decided to take the plunge and pay for a membership to his online training program and coaching at Athletic Truth Group. Week 1 went fine. App works fine. Can’t really say I feel any difference so far, but its only the start.

 https://www.atgonlinecoaching.com/  

Knees Over Toes: A week by week review of Athletic Truth Group rehab training

My history of knee pain or discomfort has been going on for a long time. The first time I can remember really experiencing something that I knew was out of the ordinary was early in high school. I was not a very athletic kid, in the sense that I wasn’t one of these kids that was on a bunch of school teams or community teams, or whatever. But, I did engage in sports. I played sports in gym and would play games before and after school when available. 

I can’t remember the exact circumstances, but to the best of my recollection when I was in 8th or 9th grade there was a period when several of us were playing basketball before school started because our homeroom was in the gym for some reason, and we were playing quite a bit of basketball during gym class, and I was playing a little after school. I was not good, but most people weren’t. But at some point, my knees started hurting. Like, it hurt to run, hurt to jump, I believe mostly centered in my left knee.

I remember it feeling pretty severe, like I felt like my left knee was just going to give out, a feeling I’ve since felt numerous times. But at the time, this pain was brand new to me and confusing. It was bad enough that I asked my mother to take me to a doctor, something I never did and still don’t like to do. I remember getting some X Rays and being examined and the doctor basically saying there was nothing wrong with me and recommended I use a knee brace. This was my first introduction to not only knee pain, but also knee braces.

This thing was monstrous. This was not a simple sleeve or even a thicker brace. This thing went from my mid thigh all the way down to my calf, had to giant straps and metal hinges. It looked like something someone would wear if broke their leg. I needed to wear this? I was a kid playing sports maybe a few hours a week, I wasn’t doing anything extreme, not in my opinion. Why did my knee hurt this way and why on earth did I need this ridiculous knee brace?

But, I started wearing it. It was weird to be asked why I needed this monstrosity, but it went find. It did help. I was able to keep playing, but once it was off I didn’t really feel better. My knee still hurt. And then my right knee started hurting. No doctors visit this time, but we did purchase another brace, this time one that was more like a stiff sleeve. No straps, no metal parts. So then I was wearing two at school, which caused a few more questions. Like, what is wrong with you? Nothing wrong with needed braces, if you need them, but why did I, as a seemingly healthy teenager need them? I don’t know. But I wore them for a while and eventually, I felt better and just stopped. Not sure if that’s because whatever the issue was went away, or because my overall activity level dropped some, or something in between. But I stopped wearing them and I felt fine. For a while….

Its been long enough that I can’t remember how I felt on a day to day or even a month to month basis. But I definitely started to feel like my knees were not as healthy or as good as most peoples. I felt slow, slightly immobile, couldn’t jump. 

The next severe incident that I can remember was the summer before my junior or senior year, I think. I think it was before senior year. I met some friends and a teacher for a run. At the time, I felt fine. But, it was the summer. I was probably playing some, working some, but I was not playing any kind of organized sport or anything like that. Definitely was not running distances at all. So, it wasn’t smart in general to just get off the couch and go for a run. But I was 17, I wasn’t worried. What’s there to worry about a little run at 17?

So I met this small group and we went for a run. Nothing too fast. I’m slow and I had no trouble keeping up. No one was keeping track of the miles, but being familiar with the route, I know it was about 3 miles. It was strenuous, but didn’t really think much about it after it was over. Until the next day. I felt like a total wreck, which I know now was probably due mostly to running a pretty good distance and not having really been running at all. My feet hurt, my ankles hurt, my knees hurt. I felt awful, it hurt to walk. And then it didn’t go away. Weeks later this same group asked me to go for another run and I had to decline. My knees still hurt. Hurt right under my kneecap. It hurt to walk upstairs, and I wasn’t even doing anything. Finally, after what had to be two months later I started to feel somewhat normal. This was my first major lesson in being careful. From then on I knew if I ever wanted to run a long distance, I needed to spend sometime, weeks in fact, to get my ankles, knees, and joints of all sorts to get accustomed to it. 

For years after this, there would be periods where I would start a routine of running, getting up to being comfortable with several miles comfortably, but if I ever had a break I knew I needed to spend some time, walking, jogging, running short distances to give myself time to get comfortable. Even then, I experienced numerous instances where my knees hurt and I would be forced to try various forms of knee sleeves, braces, wraps, straps, shoe insoles. I tried so many things to try and feel more comfortable running. I always wondered why this was necessary for me. I knew I wasn’t doing anything extreme. The most I would ever get up to was slowly, over periods of weeks and months, building up to running 10 miles at a time. Not that 10 miles is insignificant, but I always felt like considering how careful I was being, the knee pain I was experiencing sometimes was a little ridiculous. 

And then there were times when I wasn’t really running at all. Months or years long stretches where I was just lifting weights or maybe spending some time on ellipticals or bikes, not really putting any kind of pounding on my knees at all, and I would still feel like there was something not right. Felt like I couldn’t bend my knees easily, just casually kneeling to look at something or to work on something.  Occasionally I would see a doctor when it got severe and X-Rays or an MRI would always be negative. Sometimes they’d barely acknowledge that my knee was even swollen, which it often felt like it was. 

Anyway, I struggled with this on and off. Knee pain, feeling like my knee was wing, occasionaly feeling like it would just give out, and always feeling like my knees are not nearly as mobile as others. Even when I would be feeling good there were times where, when it came to athletic things like jumping, playing basketball, doing a box jumps, where I would think to myself, “I’m healthy, these people are healthy, why are my knees clearly so much weaker than theirs?”

But, fast forward to my most recent issue and what has got me somewhat desperate for relief and hoping, praying, that the ATG program and the ideas recommended by Ben Patrick “the knees over toes guy” will work for me.  In February 2020 I was doing normal stuff for me. Squatting, deadlifting, running a little (a mile every now and then). I was feeling healthy. Maybe I pushed it a little hard in the gym one day, I don’t know. But I woke up feeling like my knees hurt. Hurt to run, hurt to walk on stairs, hurt to sit down. Mostly my left knee. At first, I didn’t think much of it. I’ve felt this many many many times before. But then a week or two later not only was it not gone, but it was in both knees and had gotten worse. 

I toned it down some. It still kept lingering. I started wearing knee braces again, which felt better when I was working out but didn’t really fix anything. Went to the doctor, got X Rays which were negative, which I expected, and got some anti-imflammatories and a recommendation to go to PT. I could have gone, but I just didn’t have any faith that would work. Then the Pandemic shut everything down and I really didn’t feel comfortable going to a PT office if I could even find one that was open. 

I’m not completely insensible, so I started toning down what I was doing. Didn’t work. The COVID pandemic shut gyms down, so I toned down my exercise even more. I was still working, but I wasn’t running, wasn’t lifting heavy, nothing really close or so I thought. This knee pain kept lingering and lingering and lingering.

Finally, over the summer after having significantly toned down to almost nothing what I was asking of my knee other than just living my life, I started to feel better.  So I tested them a little bit. That was three months ago, and ever since my little tests, they’ve been bothering me every day. It hurts to walk around, hurts to sit down, hurts to go on the stairs. People I work with keep asking me what a doctor thinks. Now, truth be told I haven’t gone since the late winter. I could go, but I don’t have any confidence they’ll be able to say anything. My knees generally feel exactly like they’ve felt before when I’ve had this issue. It’s just lingering far longer than ever before. Nothing has ever showed up on an X Ray or an MRI and I don’t feel like it would now. I never felt anything that felt like a tear and my range of motion is not limited physically, except by pain or discomfort. Maybe I’m wrong, but I feel like if I tore something there would be other signs than just pain. Like I wouldn’t be able to run or squat with weight or something, all of which I can do, its just painful. Like I said, maybe I’m crazy, but I have felt like this off an on for decades. Just never quite to this extent.  Plus, I don’t want surgery, so I’m not sure what I’d do even if a doctor found something.

Enter ATG and Ben Patrick “Knees Over Toes Guy.” Throughout this whole time, every now and then I will Google  things about how my knee is feeling, trying to find any kind of answer. Which is, again, something I’ve done many many times in the past and sometimes I have found answers. Like, foam rolling, or a new kind of knee sleeve, etc. And sometimes that did work and I was able to find some relief. But so far, for this, nothing had really worked. I was starting to feel broken, like this is just how I’m going to have to live from now on. And maybe it is

Then Friday of last week, December 11, I was browsing Tik Tok and a post by Ben Patrick “@kneesovertoesguy” found its way to my feed. Why? I don’t know. I had never heard of him before, never searched for him before. Must be because his page is “fitness” related and I’ve liked some fitness things before on there, who knows how their algorithm works. But in this short video at the very top it say “How I Saved My Knees” and shows Ben doing some things with his knees, that appear to be EXTREME, like things that I would never even consider doing or have ever considering doing. Seemingly effortlessly putting his knees into positions that I know I’ve never ever been able to do, while at the same time talking about how he struggled with pain for years and had multiple surgeries. 

Something about this post, spoke to me. It wasn’t that long, but it clicked with me. I started googling him, looking him up on youtube, trying to find out if he was legit or what.  What I found were some genuine people on YouTube who seemed to be trying his program for similar issues as me, long term knee pain that wasn’t responding to usual methods, and were having some success. Not miracle success, afterall they hadn’t been doing it that long, but success enough that they felt much much better to than before. One video the guy spoke of having several days where he didn’t even THINK about his knees and I thought, “Man, if I could get to even that point I’d be so much happier.”

OK, so it definitely didn’t seem like bullshit, so I kept looking. Inevitable I found ATG’s and Ben’s YouTube channel where they show some of their thinking and some of the exercises they recommend and why and show more of his story and more of their customers’ success. These spoke to me even more. I almost felt like they were speaking directly to me. And these weren’t some kind of super slick marketing campaign. The stories from real people seemed genuinely self filmed and their real story told their way. Now granted, that could itself be produced, but it didn’t seem that way. One guy spoke of being athletic for years and then having to get knee surgery and the doctor basically telling him, “Oh, you’re never gonna feel good playing basketball again.” And he was still a relatively young man, and he spoke about starting with the beginner program “Knee Ability Zero” and how it completely changed his knee, after a long time and a lot of work, and that he feels basically completely normal and that he’s thriving now. That really spoke to me. 

Alright, so it seemed legit. I watched more of this videos, checked out the site and found out its $50 a month for online coaching with the program. Whew! $50 a month. Not for a gym membership. Not for physical therapy.  Just for access to his programs and online coaching.

This was kind of a big decision. A lot of the exercises he talks about doing, he talks about publicly and demonstrates on his YouTube channel, his Instagram, ATG’s channels, all of that. Not all of it, but especially the beginner stuff, which is what I’ll be doing, can be found for free. But, from everything I saw, ATG is promising answers to all questions online, video review of your form everyday, advice and critiquing on a daily basis.  In addition to that, they have a promotion for $30 for the first month. But still, $500 basically for one year for online physical therapy basically.

But, I figured a couple things. Number one, because of COVID, I’ve had to suspend a gym membership and also a jiu jitsu membership. So my overall fees for physical training are still going to be much lower now and in the next few months than they were at this time last year, even including paying ATG $50 a month. In addition to that, I kept watching videos and saw a few people who say they basically completed recovered their mobility, if not surpassed anything they did before. And these people apparently have had much worse knee issues than me, including multiple surgeries. I figured, if it doesn’t work, yea I’ll have wasted some dough. But if it does, and I feel even moderately better, it will have been completely worth it. 

So, I signed up, paid the first bill and started using their app. Did the first days of exercises. Now, I’m not going to reveal what they tell you to do for now. But, basically the beginnger program for people with knee pain, has 10 things to do Monday Wednesday and Friday. BUT, several of them you’re only supposed to progress to when you can only do the others pain free. So starting, I’m only doing three little exercises and some stretches. But these three little exercises are surprisingly strenuous and they’re designed, I think, to build up the muscles directly around your knee. We shall see I suppose.

So the first day I did it, the application was easy to use where you can log your work outs and post videos they request so they can check your form. Both were very good. I asked a few clarifying questions and got a response very quickly, either that night or the next morning.  Saturday and Sunday are rest days, but they do have some stretches they suggest on off days which I did on Satruday. Monday was more of the same three exercises with some stretches. I received some feedback from the trainers on Monday and Wednesday and was told to go ahead and try an additional exercise (I think you can describe this as a reverse step up).

So far, so good. I can’t really say I feel any better or different, but its only been a week. Other reviews from normal folks like me talk about feeling better after a few months or longer and Ben Patrick himself talks about a multi-year journey he’s been on, but I’m  not sure at what point he would say he started feeling healthy but I have gotten the impression from listening to a couple podcasts with him that it took him years to figure out what he wanted to do and then another year or so before he started feeling healthy. Not sure about that though. 

I’m hopeful. Which is more than I can say about how I’ve been feeling since February.