#and if they didn’t there’s going to be a bank or a doctors office or a solicitor’s office nearby that 100% definitely has one

[nicnacsnonsense]

It’s so weird to me when I see stuff be like “sending a fax??? How absurd no one sends faxes any more.” Because like, yeah, I do, for work, not infrequently. If you’re going to be sending sensitive information (I work in finance) then sending a fax is generally more secure than sending an email. Plus if you have a physical copy in front of you already, like you have paperwork printed out so someone could sign it, then honestly sending a fax is usually a lot simpler than trying to scan it, upload to your computer, then send as an email attachment.

[alexiela73]

ok so i was wondering if you could do something that evolves around the idea that the reader is pregant and genji or hanzo not knowing yet while the noodles find out and are more protective of her

Hell Yes. Someone even sent another request that feels like a great part 2 to this.

Genji:

Out of nowhere, you started to wake up with Soba standing over your pillow

The little green dragon usually preferred to sleep on her perch at the window, instead of watching with the usually intimate displays of affection in the bed- in fact, she avoided the bed altogether usually

At first you thought maybe you’d made a strange noise in your sleep and she was just worried

But more and more you’d wake to her eyes above you, staring intensely down at you from the headboard

One night Genji got home from a mission, and you woke to the sound of him yelling, and a rippling snarl coming from a growing dragon blocking the door out of the room

Genji was stuck in the hall, and for the life of you, neither of you could get Soba to change or stop her from preventing him from coming in your shared room

That next morning, a wave of nausea hit and you were sent to the bathroom in a great hurry. The nausea remained even as the contents of your stomach were emptied, and you sat beside the toilet, holding your hair back

A soft touch made you open your eyes- Soba was rubbing her little whiskers on your stomach, booping her nose above your belly button and purring

You stared down at her in confusion, before a thought hit you. When was your last period, you thought?

“Genji-,” you called. “I think we need to go to a doctors office!”

Soba sat smugly in your lap the entire way home from the doctors.

Hanzo:

In a way Hanzo described as disgraceful, the noodles always had an incredible soft spot for you

They adored you, and often left their spiritual tattoo to get snuggles in your arms and blem their little tongues out of their mouth

You spoiled them- how could you not? You’d never had a pet before, and you often liked to think that as they were a part of Hanzo, that maybe they were the physical form of his intense love for you

The noodles, as Hanzo begged you to stop calling them, usually weren’t so bad mannered as to not obey Hanzo when called- but for the first time, in the heat of battle no less, the dragons did not appear

Hanzo had no way of knowing that the noodles were following you throughout the day

You didn’t even know till the evening- they had snuck in your car and gone grocery shopping with you, had followed you into the bank and perhaps robbed a woman of their purse dog, and nearly made it through the day without you finding out

Until a loud dog across the street started barking. And when you looked, two dragons the size of cars were starting to walk across the street and snarl

“No! Guys, come here!” you called, a bit frantic.

Its like the two sensed your panic, instantly racing to you and becoming the side of german shepherds. The two wrapped around you, rubbing their cheeks on your sides

At first you thought Hanzo was home, but when you called he let out a loud, angry huff. “That’s where they are? Outrageous. I’m on my way home!” he had said.

You knew though something was up-the intensity in their gaze, the way they couldn’t look away from you...

“What’s up with you, guys?” you’d asked, and rubbed their snouts.

They just snorted, and when you finally went and sat they curled up on your lap.

It wasn’t for another two months almost before you found out you were pregnant- and suddenly, the noodles continuously odd and rather nerve-wracking behavior made sense

“They are protecting our family,” Hanzo had said softly, putting a hand over your stomach in awe. “Thank you....noodles,” he’d said.

[echo-goes-mmm]

Ambrose and Elliot #32

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: implied past non-con

Ambrose was really proud of Ellie.

He’d braved the bank, the trip went off without a hitch (mostly), and they were home safe without issue.

Ambrose watched Elliot wipe down the bar counter, his brow furrowed as he scrubbed at the wood. He worked so hard, and without complaint.

Without complaint…

Hm.

Ambrose finished his tea, and went to clean off his mug.

Elliot didn’t complain about anything. He kept to himself, and Ambrose only knew something was bothering him if Elliot couldn’t hide it anymore.

He’d seen some of Elliot’s scars. Elliot had told him very little about his… experiences, and Ambrose didn’t want to push, but what if he was still in pain?

Ambrose put the mug on the shelf. Elliot walked in, putting the dirty rag in the washing pile.

“Ellie?”

Elliot looked up at him, stilling. So… obedient.

“I think you should see a doctor.”

Elliot straightened, looking away and off to the side. “Did I do something wrong? I- I’m sorry, I’ll fix it.”

“No, no! It’s that we should make sure you’re healthy. I’m not a doctor- I mean, I can make some kinds of medicine and help with other things- but I could have missed something,” he explained.

Elliot bit his lip. “Okay.”

“I’ll go with you,” Ambrose added. “I’ll be there the whole time.”

Elliot took a deep breath. “Yes, sir,” he said, his voice cracking on the ‘sir’.

Ambrose rubbed the back of his neck. “We could.. wait a while, if you want. We don’t have to go today.”

Ellie glanced up at him. “I- I’ll go. Um, I’ll be good.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm.”

___________________

The doctor’s office was in the middle of town, and Elliot dutifully followed Ambrose down the street.

There was still gray slush on the cobblestone, and their boots crunched the wet snow. At least the sun was shining. He looked up from the street.

There weren’t many people out, much to his relief. It had been a busy week, and Elliot wanted all these errands over with. Master Ambrose didn’t seem to mind that he was shy, thank the gods, but he insisted on taking Elliot places now.

Maybe he wanted him to be more outgoing. Elliot wasn’t sure he could manage it.

The office looked more like a house, but the sign did say ‘doctor’ on it. Maybe the doctor was like Ambrose, and lived in the same building as his practice.

Master knocked on the door; using the brass knocker. Fancy.

Ambrose didn’t wait for a reply before opening the door. It made Elliot’s insides squirm.

They went inside, and the room was… normal. A couch, a couple of chairs. But there was a door separating it from the rest of the house, and this had to be a waiting area.

A woman came through the door, smiling, and she looked kind. Her black hair was poofy and pretty, and her dark brown eyes matched her dark brown skin.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice soft, and it reminded him of Ambrose.

“Hi,” he breathed out, and Ambrose smiled at him.

“Hello, Ruby,” he said. “Is Hannah busy?”

“She’s with a patient right now, but I could get Ben if it’s not serious. He’s almost finished with his training.”

“Oh, uh, we’ll wait for Hannah if that’s alright.”

“No worries,” she smiled, “she shouldn’t be long.” Ruby looked at Elliot, and he tried not to shrink under her gaze. “What’s your name? I don’t think we’ve met.”

“I’m Elliot,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you.” Ambrose squeezed his hand in approval, and some of the tension trickled out of him.

“Likewise. I’ll let my wife know you’re here.”

Ruby disappeared behind the door again, and Ambrose sat on the couch, Elliot following his lead.

The doctor was a woman. 

Elliot let out a long breath, shuddering. She was a woman, and wouldn’t hurt him like a man would. Hopefully.

Master Ambrose looked relaxed and unbothered. If Master wasn’t worried, then maybe there was nothing to worry about.

___________________

It wasn’t long before Dr. Hannah was finished. The door opened again, and her patient, a pregnant woman, came out with her. They were laughing at some kind of joke, and Dr. Hannah bit her farewell before her eyes landed on them.

“Hello, Ambrose, and you must be Elliot. Ruby said you needed to see me today?”

“Elliot does,” explained Ambrose. “He needs a check-up.”

Elliot fidgeted as Hannah looked at him. “Alrighty, well come on back.”

He followed Ambrose and Hannah into the hall, and she ushered them into a side room.

The door closed quietly behind them, and Elliot scanned the room.

There were two chairs, and a shelf of equipment that he didn’t know what they did. One wall had measurements on it, and there was a scale nearby.

A cot took up the most space, and Elliot really didn’t want to get on it. But Ambrose would be watching, and he wouldn’t let anything bad happen, right?

Ambrose sat down as Hannah grabbed a clipboard.

“Take your shoes off, please.”

Elliot toed off his boots, and neatly put them aside.

Hannah guided him to stand against the measuring wall. “Stand up straight and even,” she said, “and think tall thoughts.”

Her pen came to rest at the top of his head, pushing down his hair. The doctor wrote down the number. 

“Good. Now if you could step on the scale for me.” Elliot got up on the little platform, and Hannah adjusted the weights until the bar was even.

“A little small, but that’s okay.”

“We’re working on it,” said Ambrose from the chair.

“And is that going well? Balanced diet?” Hannah asked, writing on her clipboard.

Ambrose nodded. 

“Great.”

Hannah gestured for Elliot to sit in the cot, and Elliot obeyed. He rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants.

Hannah put her clipboard aside, and rolled up her sleeves. “Don’t worry, my hands are clean,” she smiled, noticing his stare.

He wasn’t worried about that. He was worried about where her hands were going.

Doctor Hannah picked up a- a thing, and Elliot tried to take deep breaths to calm himself like Ambrose had taught him.

“I’m just going to use this to look in your ears,” she explained, “and then your mouth, nose, and eyes. Like a magnifying glass.”

“Okay,” he said. That didn’t sound too bad.

Hannah put the little cone on the end barely inside his ear, and it was cold but didn’t hurt. She switched to the other side.

“Mhm,” she hummed, “all clear there. Tilt your head up for me?”

She peered into his nose, and again it felt strange. “Good. Open your mouth please, and go ahhh, stick your tongue out- yes just like that. Perfect.”

Elliot closed his mouth, running his tongue over his teeth.

Hannah looked into his eyes, and marked whatever she had been looking for on her paper. 

She pulled out a metal thing from under her coat. It had a metal circle at one end, and two branches at the other.

“This is a stethoscope,” she said. “I’m going to listen to your heart and lungs with it. This might be cold.”

Hannah put the two ends in her ears, and slipped the other end under his shirt. It was cold, and Elliot squeaked.

“Sorry.”

She moved the metal around, and it was uncomfortable. “Breath in deep… hold it… aaaand let it out. Good.”

Doctor Hannah pulled the ends out of her ears, and offered them to him. “Would you like to listen to your heart? It’s always neat to hear your own heartbeat.”

“Um, okay.” Elliot put the ends in his ears.

Thump thump thump.

It felt calming, somehow, and he relaxed. 

“Neat, right?”

Elliot nodded. He listened to the blood flowing through him for a moment longer before handing the stethoscope back.

“Alright, heart and lungs are great. Ears and nose are clear, mouth and throat are nice and pink. How’s your vision?”

“Hm?”

“Do you have any trouble seeing things?” she clarified. “Up close, or far away?”

“Um, I don’t think so.”

“Good.”

Hannah put down her clipboard. “Can I touch your face and neck?” she asked. 

Elliot looked over to Ambrose, who nodded. “I- I guess that’s okay.”

“I’ll be gentle,” Hannah assured him. “This shouldn’t hurt, but if it does, you need to tell me, okay?”

“Okay.”

Her fingers came to just below the back of his jaw, pressing for something, and Elliot could feel something push back.

“I’m checking your lymph nodes,” she explained. “If they’re swollen, that could mean sickness.” She pulled her hands away. “But yours feel fine. Could you please take off your shirt?”

Elliot hesitantly undid the buttons and pulled it off. The cool air made him shiver. 

“Alright,” the doctor said, “I’m going to need you to lie back. I need to feel your organs; make sure everything is okay.”

Elliot took a deep breath and laid down, his fingers gripping the edge of the cot.

“Just relax,” she advised. He nodded stiffly.

Her hands began to press on parts of his stomach, and it was so unlike how other people touched him that Elliot began to calm down.

“You’re doing great,” she said. “Does anything hurt?”

“No,” he breathed out.

“Okay. You can sit up now.” 

Hannah picked up her pen and paper. “I think that’s everything, unless you need me to check your spine. Do you have any concerns?”

Elliot began to shake his head, but Ambrose interrupted.

“I really think you should see his back,” Ambrose warned. “And maybe his… lower half.”

Hannah looked between them. “Are you alright with that?” she asked Elliot.  “Ambrose could step out if it would make you more comfortable.”

Tears pricked at the corners of Elliot’s eyes. “I- could show you, but I- I need him here,” he admitted. 

“That’s perfectly fine,” soothed Hannah. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Elliot wiped his eyes and turned around.

Hannah gasped in shock, and Elliot hung his head, shivering.

“Oh- oh my. Uh-”

Her hand rested on his shoulder. “Do- does your back hurt a lot?”

“No,” he mumbled. “Not anymore.” 

“Okay- um, stand up for me.”

Elliot got off the cot, his vision blurry.

“Try and touch your toes, without bending your knees,” she ordered, and Elliot tried but couldn’t manage it.

Her hand ran over his spine. “Okay, you can stand up. Do you feel any stiffness on your skin? Like- like you have to tug against it?”

“A little.”

Hannah guided him through a few arm movements, concern on her face. They were hard, and he couldn’t do some of them very well.

“Did any of those hurt?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Okay. Go ahead and put your shirt back on.”

Relieved, Elliot pulled it on. 

“I’m going to need you to do some of those exercises every day,” she said. “Scar tissue is less flexible than regular skin, and currently it’s limiting your movement.”

Elliot nodded, an empty feeling in his chest. 

“It might also help if you massaged his shoulders; help loosen those scars up,” Hannah told Ambrose. “It doesn’t have to be every day.”

Ambrose nodded. “Understood.”

Doctor Hannah turned back to Elliot. “Do you want me to check your privates?” she asked, voice low. “We don’t have to.”

Elliot worried his lip. Ambrose wanted her too, and if he didn’t do it now, he would have to later.

“Okay,” he said, numb. “Okay.”

“Is- is that a yes?”

Elliot couldn’t bear to speak, and nodded instead.

He unbuttoned his pants, and pushed them down until they lay on the floor, and his boxers- he couldn’t force himself to take them all the way off. They rested at mid-thigh, and his cheeks burned with shame. He screwed his eyes shut

Hannah’s hands rested on the fabric of his boxers.

“Alright,” she said, her voice soft and gentle. “Does anything hurt right now?”

“No,” he whispered. 

“Good. How about when you use the bathroom?”

“No.”

“Do the scars on your thighs ever bother you?”

“No.”

“Does it hurt when you touch yourself?”

“I- I don’t do that,” he whimpered.

“Okay. I’m going to touch you, very briefly, and tell me if it hurts.”

Hannah moved part of his- he didn’t want to think about it-

“Did that hurt?”

“No.”

“Okay. I’m all done. You can get dressed.”

Elliot fumbled with his underwear, sobbing, and pulled on his clothes as fast as he could.

“Is there anything else you two are worried about?” she asked. Hannah offered him a tissue, and Elliot wiped his eyes.

“I- I think we’re good,” said Ambrose, who looked pale.

“Great. Just let me know if anything changes- anything at all.”

“Thanks, doc.”

___________________

They walked home in silence.

“I’m sorry,” said Ambrose quietly as they left main street. “I shouldn’t have pushed you to do that.”

“I don’t mind.”

“You did, though.” Ambrose shook his head. Elliot’s breath stuttered. Was he in trouble?

“I’m sorry for crying, sir.”

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I- I made you do something you didn’t want to do.” Ambrose cleared his throat. “So I’m sorry. It wasn’t right.”

Elliot didn’t know what to say. A part of him was upset, still small and scared, but the other part was relief. There wasn’t anything wrong with him, except his shoulders, and the Doctor said he could fix it.

“I- I’m glad,” he said. “I was scared but I’m better now. I- I wasn't sure if I was normal, um, there. But I know, now.”

“You think it was worth it?” asked Ambrose, opening the door to the inn for him.

“Yes, sir. That’s what I meant.”

“Well… as long as you feel that way, I suppose. Just… tell me if you really don’t want to do something, okay? There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Elliot fidgeted. “...okay. Um, can I go to my room? Please?” 

“Sure.”

Elliot practically ran, taking the stairs two at a time. 

He picked up the bear Ambrose gave him and huddled under the bedcovers. 

“I’m normal,” he said to no one. “Normal, normal, normal. I’m fine. I did good.”

He was fine. The doctor said he was fine. The doctor said he was good.

He was good. 

Elliot squeezed his bear tight. “I’m fine.”

And he very nearly believed it.

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em

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@whumpzone @snakebites-and-ink @astrokea @magdalena-writes @latenightcupsofcoffee

@tobiaslut @whumpsoda @loserwithsyle @bitchaknso

[boundinparchment]

Blasphemous Rumors - IV

“Marry me.” He said it with such blasé that you weren’t sure you heard him correctly.  Silence surrounded the two of you and he leaned down and tilted his head, watching you like a specimen under a microscope. “Just for a year.  A marriage of convenience.  Consider it nothing more than a harmless experiment for the sake of curiosity.” Il Dottore/Female reader with established personality.  Slow-ish burn.  Semi-enemies to lovers. On AO3 here. Likes, reblog, and comments appreciated.

That sentiment never left in the weeks of planning that followed.  

Every time someone asked about your ring, you told them it was being resized and that neither of you were pleased with the clarity of the gems.  Besides, you would say, you didn’t want to show it off before the wedding.

The wedding date was settled by a Segment (Omega, you were certain, for he was the closest to the actual Doctor in personality) unceremoniously dropping a calendar on your desk.  You closed your eyes, placed your finger somewhere and landed on a weekend towards the later half of the month.

Omega then had the gall to take a paperclip from your tiny dish that held them and twist one into a ring before he left without another word.

You didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.

The timeline was short.  Six weeks.  Even your coworkers who dabbled in event planning for the annual ball and other celebrations balked at the small window of time.  A wedding of this magnitude required at least a year, someone said, and you wished their gaze hadn’t dropped to your lower half so blatantly.

When you weren’t working and trying to keep your eyes and ears about you to pass along information, you were trying to meet and correspond with vendors and come up with a vision of an event that, quite frankly, would suit neither of you if the matter of rank didn’t come into play.  It kept you so busy that you toyed with the idea of a kamera to save you time but even those in Snezhnaya were not slim nor inconspicuous. But they were expensive to maintain.  You couldn’t afford to add another item to your paper-thin personal budget.

You ran through your itinerary in your head again as you made your way down from the Palace and into town, thankful the weather was at least holding out a bit.  Post office, bank, and an appointment with a seamstress that wasn’t on Regrator’s list of preferred vendors.

All of the dresses you saw and tried were simply…too much.  Tried too hard.  Beautiful in their work but felt like another layer of paint rather than an organic addition to the whole affair.

As far as you knew, the Harbinger had a personal tailor in the Palace anyway and going off of the suggested list was bound to produce some results.  You were determined to find vendors who could use the support and might be overlooked otherwise.

Bad enough you had to go to Northland; you didn’t need wedding vendors working against you either.

The post office was packed, as usual, and you eagerly handed over the last remnants of your copied ledgers and notes.  They might as well have been burning holes in your cloak pocket all morning.  Your room and your office was now free of damning evidence.  Privacy was almost non-existent now and it would vanish entirely soon enough.  If you wrote to your parents more frequently, you could still keep up the habit established and not raise suspicion.

A break in a usual routine would be seen as unusual, you reminded yourself.

Amid the other envelopes was a thicker one, your reluctant communication to your parents about the change of circumstance.  They deserved to know and understand that it changed nothing (if they were different people, you would not have told them at all).  Traveling to the city was out of the question for them between the cost and your father’s health, let alone the added layer of your boss being thrown into that mix.

Lord Dottore’s proposal and your agreement already put you in a spotlight you never wanted to be in.  You didn’t need Pantalone knowing exactly how bad of a position your parents’ bankruptcy had put them, and you, in.  

Funny how you feared the Second Harbinger far less despite his gruesome acts, you mused after you thanked the clerk and made your way to Northland’s prominent facade.  At least he wouldn’t care one way or the other so long as nothing interfered with his work.  He never made it personal.

Until now, in a way.

Your cheek strung for a brief moment as your skin remembered the cold metal of your letter opener.  The closest thing to a kiss you two shared.

Northland’s home branch was a source of tourism as much as it was an actual bank.  Vaulted ceilings soared high overhead and marble pillars provided support that, for the briefest moments, made the building feel as much of a chapel as it was a bank.  The guided tours helped.

Compared to the latest branch in Liyue Harbor, it was surprisingly austere in its plainness.  Pantalone’s office suite and several of the other rooms outside of the lobby of tellers were far more opulent; much like its owner, the bank presented one image to the public and another to its closest confidants.  The coffered ceilings casted shadows as intricate as the dealings on the floor below.

You waited in line, as everyone did.  Most of the staff knew you, at least by loose association, and you were under no impression that anything was ever truly hidden.

Your family situation wasn’t the secret you needed to keep, after all.  As far away as you tried to keep it, part of you knew that your boss was likely aware you sent most of your pay home.  That you worked at the Palace as a sacrifice for the poor choices of others.  And that he was likely at fault, although you doubted he would ever claim as such.

The source of the money was a different story, of course.

A bridge to cross another day.

As you filled out the respective slips for deposit and withdrawal, the clerk’s head snapped up out of your peripheral vision with an audible gasp.

“My lady, why didn’t you say you would be accompanied by your fiancé, the Lord Harbinger?” She whispered, a tinge of fear tainting her words.  “We would have prepared a private office for you both to take care of your business.”

“I—”

Out of the corner of your eye to your left, you caught a tall figure with hair the color of a spring morning sky and a shining earring that gave off its own glow.  The white cloak with its black fur collar filled in the gaps.  Around you, it felt as if the very air around you had been sucked out.  Chattering had all but ceased and you heard the shuffle of people changing their posture, dedicating their attention to the notion that a Harbinger was among them.

Would you ever get used to that?  Likely not.  When it was just the two of you, things were different; it was you and him meeting blow for verbal blow.  You did your best to keep your composure and just as you were about to politely smile and tell the clerk that you handled affairs separately, a voice to your left interjected.

“Such accommodations won’t be necessary.  We are not staying long enough to require them,” Lord Dottore remarked, not even turning his head in your direction.

Your face felt hot as you thanked the clerk for their assistance and handed over the account slips.  A presence lingered at your side and you didn’t have to look to see that it was Dottore; he had already finished whatever his errand was but for him to leave would look bizarre, you rationalized.  You tried to ignore the biting thought that he was sticking around to ensure you didn’t bumble your way through the transaction now that the cat was out of the bag.

“Just a deposit then, My Lady?” the clerk asked.

“Yes, as usual.  Will the funds be accessible later today?”

“Immediately, ma’am.  The account holder should have no issue.”

If you timed it right, the morning post would arrive in time for your mother to reach the bank and take care of other affairs before the end of the day.  Bills were already paid.  But groceries and medicine were constant necessities and your parents couldn’t stockpile like they used to.

Next to you, Lord Dottore seemed to prickle with a question that he knew wasn’t appropriate.  Hearing his fiancé was giving money away when she was, supposedly, so good at it herself, was a variable never discussed.

A lot of things weren’t discussed though.  This might as well have been an elopement save for the actual, well, act of running away.

Once everything was finished, Dottore escorted you out of the bank, extending his elbow in silent regard.  Right.  Anything else would be too informal.  You tried your best not to look uncomfortable with his proximity or at the looks and whispers from staff and client alike as you looped your hand underneath to hold the crook of his arm.

“Not an outcome I anticipated but one I will take advantage of nonetheless,” Dottore muttered, only loud enough for you to hear.  “I need to borrow your hand.”

You looked up at him, face contorted in confusion.  The proposal was unusual enough on its own.  Did he mean your actual hand, and if so, attached or detached?  Was your life now going to be filled with bizarre requests?  

“What?” you hissed, baffled.

Several heads turned as you walked through the snowy street.  The tilt of his head told you he was glaring at you for drawing such attention.

“You need a ring, do you not, my dear?  I might be the best scholar in several centuries but even I am aware that ring sizes are best left to proper measurement devices.”

Oh.  Of course.  Your ring.

“I thought you were busy for the next several weeks, sir,” you emphasized your correction more for those who might overhear than the man you were speaking with.  “Unless you are, in fact, not the Doctor?”

“As if I would leave such a personal matter to a segment.”

He spat the words, insulted.  Whether by the insinuation he’d doled out the task or your seeming inability to tell him apart from his counterparts, you couldn’t quite tell.

You could tell them apart.  Lord Dottore knew that.  

But he also knew how important it would be to make this appear right.

Lord Dottore didn’t wait for you to reply and continued.  “It will not take long and then you can be on your way.  Where else are you off to, anyway?”

“I have an appointment with a seamstress.  Plenty of well-known vendors extended their offerings but they were…” you gestured with your free hand, finding yourself at a loss for words other than, “rather unremarkable.”

The chuckle that wrenched from his lips made your blood run cold and your heart jump.

“You’re certainly playing your part, Accountant,” he teased.

Of course you were.  What did he expect, to marry you in your uniform?  You bit your tongue for a second to think on your words.

“As I said when last we spoke, I don’t wish to misrepresent you.  That goes for your rank as well as who you are, or at least the image you project.  But everything I was presented with was just not right.”

You walked in silence for three steps before Lord Dottore said, “Elaborate.”

That was like asking you to explain why you balanced numbers the way you did or why you preferred to sleep on your right rather than your left side.  You just did.  

“They’re beautiful but they feel almost…like I’m competing with the Tsaritsa.  Like I’m just a doll to wear the dress rather than the dress being a reflection of…well, me.”

You cast a glance up at Lord Dottore as he gave a hum and found his head angled towards you in such a way that prevented you from seeing beneath his mask.  A part of you was curious, of course, about what he looked like.  You weren’t alone in that regard but it was never acted upon except by the young, giddy acolytes who had yet to find their place as a Fatuus, enamored with the prospect rather than the work.

Even as a spouse, you doubted you would be privy to his face.  Why would you be?  You were to be an equal on paper, nothing more.

“I trust your judgment, Accountant.  The ceremony is long and the reception is longer; it would be better to have something that you feel comfortable in.  I don’t rightly care, as you well know, but expectations must be met for this to be believable.”

Before you could speak again, you were led into a shop with glass counters and carefully placed lights.  The encased jewelry and the glass itself didn’t so much sparkle as glow and you were careful to tap out your boots so as to not soak the plush carpet.

Lord Dottore didn’t so much as shake out his cloak’s hem as he addressed the shopkeeper.  You tried to keep your expression neutral as you looked around, each case organized by the type of stone.  Everything in here had to be worth at least ten times your salary in total and it churned your stomach to even try to calculate that amount.  You tore your gaze away and returned to Dottore’s side.

Sizing was, in fact, just as quick as he said it would be.  The process was just a matter of using the jeweler's equivalent to a set of keys, each sizing ring marked with the appropriate measurement.  You tried on a few before settling on a number that was snug enough not to slip over your knuckle easily and came off with a bit of a struggle.

“There, matter settled,” Dottore murmured as the jeweler jotted down notes.

And you didn’t even lose a hand, you thought.  Yet.

If you were alone, you might have made the joke aloud.  

He was closer than you expected, his eyes seemingly glued to the case the entire time you went back and forth with the jeweler on the sizing.  He’d only chimed in once in the whole process, to take your hand and try the sizer himself, as if gauging the difficulty of getting the ring over your knuckle.  You tensed instantly before reminding yourself to relax.

You would need to get used to being in his presence and he would have to put your band on your finger publicly, after all.

Something in his face shifted and you got the distinct feeling you’d failed whatever he was trying to benchmark.  You’d been slipping.  First the bank, now this.  His finger traced the faint line across your cheek as he brushed his lips over your forehead.

“You should get going if you don’t want to be late, my dear.”

“Of course,” you replied, tilting your head and daring to lean ever so slightly into the gesture.

Two could play that game.

You thanked the jeweler for their time and left the shop, hoping the cold would stave off the burning sensation on your cheek.

The seamstress appointment was better, but only just.  At the mere mention of the timeline and the passing look between the shopkeeper and the assistant, you knew they connected the dots as to which upcoming wedding this was for.

“We would have come to you, my lady,” the seamstress said.

You could feel any sense of control over the situation slipping away to propriety again.

“Please, I’m not—”

“A Harbinger’s fiancé, and the Second’s at that, shouldn’t have to come down into town.  We would have gladly made the trip up to the Palace.”

Was it a faux part on your part or was it fear?  Her face was so hard to read.  Running any kind of business was difficult enough.  Harder still to contend with public courtesy and unwritten rules.  Fontaine had it worst of all, you recalled, but even here in Snezhnaya, rank and social standing ruled with a golden hand.

It only went so far, though, and that Pantalone didn’t work directly with the shop spoke volumes to you.  You overheard so many conversations when you were in the backroom, balancing the books and triple-checking the tax levies.  Those who respected your father’s time were the ones he was always willing to work with, no matter the situation.

“I want whoever I work with to be in the best environment for them.  You have everything here, after all; it makes far more sense for me to come to you,” you replied evenly.

Hopefully, in the event someone decided to speak and spread whatever they saw, you passed as humble and self-aware.

After all, that was the point.

You eventually found yourself swaddled in lace and tulle, watching as the two craftspeople worked together to find the perfect color and the perfect patterns.  A very soft silvery-blue, rather than a strict white, laid a shimmering foundation upon which the lace and tulle were overlaid; the bodice and sleeves would be lace and the pattern would fade until the hem and the train.  It was difficult to visualize at first until you looked at another dress, already made, and they described the changes in volume and cut with a sketch that made you wish you did have a kamera after all.  

What beauty, wasted on the likes of Il Dottore, you thought as you looked in the mirror and watched as the material reflected light as though it were water.  Such a moment would make any ordinary bride happy but you had never felt more alone in the entire endeavor thus far.

Neither truly balked at the six week time frame when you began discussing deadlines and cost.  Instead, you were reassured that you would have a dress that would keep the rest of the nation talking for years to come.  A grandiose exaggeration, spoken with all the levity one might read a law, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

When you stepped out into the cold again, you were greeted by a familiar mask and cloak; Lord Dottore was standing outside like a large menacing hound, waiting for you.

He said nothing and began to walk away as you pulled your cloak tighter around you to seal away your warmth.  It took you a moment to realize he was walking in the direction of the Palace.

“If you’re finished, my lord, it would be more expedient to take a carriage back,” you advised.  “The snow makes for poor footfalls and the sky might open any minute again.”

Dottore turned his head to gaze over his shoulder at you, his mouth thin.  In turn, you raised your eyebrows, expectant.  It was the same look you gave him when you needed an explanation during an audit.

“I walked down from the Palace,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and the biggest inconvenience to admit.

“So did I.  But the people have seen us together and it would not be fitting for us to be seen trekking back up to the Palace.  We don’t have to be a wholly united front but even you know that the optics of that, in addition to my empty finger, don’t bode well.  Don’t want to be accused of not caring, do you?”

Dottore clicked his tongue as a puff of hot breath streamed from his nose and for a moment, he looked every bit like an angry dragon as he turned and flagged down a nearby coach.  You didn’t miss the smug smirk and sardonic bite when he said, “After you,” and helped you into the closed carriage.  

Silence dominated the ride out of town and back up the hill the Palace sat on.  Your feet ached and now that you were sitting down, you realized how much the day had taken out of you for errands that, normally, wouldn’t have bothered you.  Granted, you hadn’t eaten since breakfast and it was well into the afternoon, which didn’t exactly help.  You went through your mental checklist of things to be done as you gazed out the coach window; your thoughts were interrupted by a tap of your shoe from the man across from you.  He withdrew his leg, as much as he could within the confines of the space and extended his hand, which held a tiny box.

Your eyes flicked from the box to his hidden face just once, finding his expression unreadable as always, before you took it from him.

Perched within were two rings of gold so brilliant it looked almost pink, woven into a vine pattern.  The first ring held a sizeable light blue stone so clear it looked as if it could have been carved from ice, flanked by a smaller stone on either side that appeared more purple than blue, iridescent in the way it refracted light.  The setting was dotted with tiny blue stones of the same color and clarity as the centerpiece, resulting in a diamond-shaped cluster.  Beneath it, the accompanying wedding band mimicked the setting, woven vines housing tiny ice droplets, the shape lining up with the other ring exactly so the two nested together.

The sensation from earlier in the dress shop came flooding back.  Such craftsmanship and time went into making such a beautiful piece.  On their own, the rings were stunning, but there was thought in this choice; it matched many of the motifs the man himself used and was known for and it would act as a reminder whenever she wore it.

Something tugged at your stomach before you reminded yourself that this was all for a show, that it didn’t matter.  You blinked away tears faster than they could form.  No.  He didn’t deserve such a thing from you.

But you couldn’t help but wonder how long he’d been in that shop looking for something capable of such impact.

“It should keep Pantalone quiet.  Not that anything will ever silence that man’s prattling, especially if he knew how many arms I had to twist to find something suitable.”

Briefly, you recalled the rings on Lord Pantalone’s fingers and how often they were swapped out, save the globus cruciger.  It was not uncommon to hear him remark about the clarity of a stone or the difficulty in obtaining it; the bragging point was often the price and you always refrained from retching every time you heard a figure higher than the last.

You removed your gloves and slipped on the first ring.  It fit perfectly; not that you expected anything less.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, handing him back the box with the wedding band.  “I wasn’t expecting anything quite so…”

“As we’ve agreed, Accountant, this needs to be well beyond believable,” Dottore replied, tucking the box away in his cloak.  “It would have been easy to give you any ring and have this be passable on the surface.  No one questions a diamond ring in high social circles, only how big the diamond is, after all.  However, we have the added thread of plausibility and both of us are aware Regrator scrutinizes everything.  Aquamarine and tanzanite, with reinforced rose gold, in the event one should ask.”

When you’d managed to bring yourself to make the trip down to his workshops, you didn’t expect much from that conversation other than at least a piece of jewelry that would stop all of the lingering stares and whispers.  He’d thrown your expectations out the window.

That was quintessentially him, though, wasn’t it?  To take something and run with it, to push an idea well beyond the expectations and thoughts of others.

Lord Dottore knew it, too, for he adjusted his posture ever so slightly.  Just like he did when he knew you had no other recourse but to give in to his budget requests.

“I’ve held up my end as requested, Accountant.  But I find myself curious: what were you doing at Northland?”

A question you knew he’d been dying to ask ever since he overheard the transaction at the bank.  And you were no longer in a position to deny him the answer, not when he’d not only fulfilled your request but did so well beyond the expectations you held.

Bastard.

He didn’t need to know much, you reasoned.  And you were in no position to not answer.  Defensiveness here would raise too many alarm bells.  

“I…send money to my parents back home.  Most of my pay goes to them to cover bills and expenses.  My father no longer works; my mother spreads herself too thin caring for him and trying to earn a pittance when she can,” you replied.

The words almost choked you to admit them outloud.  No one else, not even your coworkers, knew; Lord Pantalone probably did, at least to some extent.  But it seemed like an unspoken responsibility shouldered by those within the administration spheres and on the field.  The way food was shared during lunch after an admission of missing a meal or the crowd-funding of a night out to raise spirits seemed so contrary to what you expected.  You had chipped in all for the sake of appearances only to be given the same respect in kind.  It wasn’t foreign to you, per se, but after the bankruptcy, it was difficult to find those willing to help your family when all they saw was negligence and bad decisions.

It was nothing to be ashamed about.

To clear the air, you continued.

“They’ve asked for nothing more and I fully intend to only use my wages for such things.”

Lord Dottore tilted his head before he looked away, his gaze seemingly set on the landscaping passing by.  The answer bored him, clearly, as you expected it to.

“I care little for what you do beyond your role but be sure not to neglect yourself for the sake of others.”

Icy rain fell in sheets, pelting the ground in soft plinks as you arrived back at the Palace.  You parted ways without another word and you wished the metal on your finger was as cold as the rain and the man who gave it to you.

Her visit to Haeresys was quite unexpected, to say the least.  Not many people ventured down into the bowels of the Palace unless they absolutely had to.  But for her to not would otherwise lend itself poorly, wouldn’t it?

After all, she was never afraid to speak her mind before.  More than once she has left my ego bruised and my pride singed when she laid out points I’d pushed aside in previous considerations.  Said points were not neglected but rather only issues if they were encountered; when she provided context, more often than not, there was little option but to compromise.  When all is said and done, she too considers the bigger picture, just from a different angle.  No two artists paint the same image even when given the same set of references.  It is one of the few areas of the human experience that is, perhaps, at least intriguing.

Sohreh, for all her fawning, was similar.  At least the Accountant did not blush every time she laid eyes on me.

Such things were what drove my desire to create the prostheses, after all.

The pageantry of all of this…utterly ridiculous.  All of this for the sake of a bet, a gamble; a ladder for Pantalone to get off of my back at the cost of time I will never regain.

How do others pursue this for the sake of emotion?  This is truly joyous for some?  Or is it social convention that dictates one must go this route, to celebrate so widely when so few truly know those exchanging nuptials?

Does one even need emotion, that worthless thing of love, to make these arrangements work?

The historical argument would hold that no, emotion doesn’t matter.  Without that, perhaps something stronger still is erected to replace fleeting desire and heart palpitations and whimsical dreams.  This farce can be plausible without such trivial things.

And Regrator will be proved wrong, as all others before him have been.

Even if it means playing by the convention he expects us to follow.

Us.

Strange to use that in reference to…an existence outside of my own.

Other than her late night gallivanting to demand a ring, I have seen little of her.  Omega has dutifully managed what needed my input and that has allowed me to prioritize.  

The Tsaritsa has already insisted on sending me away and offered up a choice of properties to boot.  A lack of a honeymoon would be forgivable given my position and I would rather stay here and focus on what must be done.  Too much progress has already been made.  But I am in no position to deny Her Majesty’s will and I must also consider the Accountant’s position.  She was already questioned about a ring; I would never hear the end of it from Regrator and it would put her in an even worse position, surely, if we didn’t at least leave the Palace.

Annoying.  Worrying about another’s quality of life.  Their actions.  The impact they’ll have.

I had not expected running into her at the bank, of all places, although I cannot place why.  After all, she’s an accountant and financial assistant.  At the very least, she would be running an errand for work, if not for herself.  That was a normal occurrence for most people.

She’d avoided eye contact with me.  Even looked annoyed when the clerk mentioned transaction details, perhaps under the assumption I would be aware of them.

Not helped by her surprise when I provided my reasoning for needing her company.  What did she think, that I would be severing her body?  I am aware of the fear about me that spreads rumors like a plague but she should give me a little more credit than that.  After all, short of the reports given to the Tsaritsa, the Accountant is one of the few who at least can put a value to the work I do.  

Worse still, she looked stiff and uncomfortable during the ring sizing.  The jeweler is one of Regrator’s contacts but to work with anyone else would result in another earful I didn’t want to hear.  Anything detrimental would make its way back to the banker in no time.  But what better way to prove solidarity than throw it right in Regrator’s face?  Acting distant would do us no credit.

I had specifically chosen her for the bite she could give back and in public settings, she was proving to be less reliable than I hypothesized.  

How would she react to public affection, gestures that few would think twice about?  Her skin was still cold from outside when I leaned in.  She hid the dark circles beneath her eyes well enough and by now, the cut on her cheek had healed, leaving behind only a thin line noticeable in the right light.  The scent of parchment and ink clung to her, mingled with whatever floral scent her soap was infused with.

Disgusting.  How could anyone ever find the smell of flowers pleasant?

And then she had the gall to tilt her head and look up at me through her lashes.  A lesser individual might have bought such behavior.

Not me.

She left for her dress appointment and the nagging thought of my own attire came to mind.  Omega was seeing to that.  White with tails, blue and gold accents, all the while bearing the feathery mantle I’ve grown quite fond of.  Why not have a bit of a dramatic flair, after all, if I must go through with all of this?

I should have left the ring to Omega, in hindsight.  He would have come to the same conclusion I did.  All the colors before me were nothing more than structural compounds of specific minerals and a mix of circumstances.  No stone was special when it was broken down into its most basic components.

The deep reds and brilliant rubies were, to the jeweler’s credit, remarkable enough for what they were.  If this were different, perhaps these would have been suitable…

But she has never seen my eyes.  And she likely never will.

Diamonds would be appropriate, if nothing else.  

Rare, resilient.  

Cliche.  

Aquamarine, however…would be a reflection of her homeland, among other things.  Symbolically, it was impossible to go wrong or be misinterpreted.

But the stones nearby, iridescent purple ranging in various shades, were far more unique.  I’d encountered such stones before, in the depths of the desert when taking apart Deshret’s Primal Constructs to reinforce my boots and weaponry during my exile.  Deshret had failed in his attempt to save the people; his legacy meant little to me.

Two colors, then.

The jeweler was quick to accommodate, finding a matching band in no time, but it paled in comparison to the main ring when the stones were properly set.  I had little doubt he would hesitate to inform Pantalone the moment I left.  Paying extra would do little but delay the information anyway.

I found the notion of a band for myself wasteful.  I’d never wear the thing.  It would only get in the way.

But the Accountant was dedicated to portraying the image needed…

Platinum would, at least, survive.

The Accountant finished her appointment not long after I’d tucked both boxes in my pocket and found the shop she’d mentioned.  It was impossible to see the back of the shop from the windows in front, even if I had been curious about her plans and wanted to know.

Which I didn’t.

I just wanted to be done with this entire affair so I could focus on other things.  Usually, I enjoy the process of the experiment; ever since the words left my mouth weeks ago, however…

Perhaps she was feeling something similar.  The look on her face when she stepped out of the shop was not unlike the one from when she first began working in the Palace, when she’d had no choice but to summon me in place of the Segments.  Her smile was strained, her eyes looking at him but clearly elsewhere.

And yet she still managed to dig her heels in about a carriage, of all things.

She’d walked down herself–she wasn’t the type to take an easy route or method anywhere.  The cold was, despite my Delusion, still bitter and dry for me and yet I didn’t think twice about taking the trip on-foot.  Few bothered me and I could go at my own pace.

I should have left her behind.  Why had I gone to the shop to wait for her, anyway?

Other than her protest for a carriage, she was quiet.  Not that I minded.  But her earlier behavior continued to nag, like an irritating fabric in cloying heat.  Was she like the rest after all?

When she took the box and opened it, her pragmatism won out.  It unsettled me that she did not, as most might, gush over the rings, but it sickened me all the more to wish she did.

What use was her praise?

None of this mattered.

The thanks from her lips were genuine enough but something in her face was harder to pin down.  Her eyes were a little watery though and the flush of her cheeks was not just from the brisk wind outside.  I’ll take what reactions I can get out of her…I need to document something, after all.

She kept her main ring and returned the box with the other band inside.  The red leather was still warm when I tucked it away again.

I couldn’t help myself, however, as the moment from the bank came to mind again.  Perhaps she would be pliable, now that I’d played along?  What was the worst that could happen?

Right.  Most still have a family.  Living for centuries desensitizes you to all of those notions.  

Sending money back home is not uncommon, especially among the lower ranks and the administrative branches.  She cared for others.  Not a sentiment I can understand.  

But I do know what it means to rise to every occasion, to come from nothing and fight for every scrap along the way.  As unconventional as it had been, the Akademiya saw to it that I would, in one way or another, find what I wanted out of life.

Her earnestness is unsettling.  Hard work pays off but only when you have something to prove.  At least she knows her boundaries, I suppose.  That should make it all the quicker to find them myself, see how they might break…

That this is nothing more than transactional should make that all the easier.

I left the carriage as soon as the horses pulled to a stop.  She’d managed to shake the doubts instilled in me with nothing more than a few words and a conviction that ran deeper than the icecaps not far from the Palace.  

She was the right choice for this little experiment after all.

[spideyzgirl]

hii! I don't know if you have requests still open, if you don't just ignore this <3 how about a fic where reader is the one with powers and her and Peter are together & he works as a nurse maybe or not, and he always patches her up when she's super hurt? Peter gets a call from reader that she needs help and he goes to her? or she comes to him? just really fluffy and angsty? again if you're not taking requests just ignore this. have a lovely day/night <3

doctor doctor, give me the news

A/N: so sorry this took me so long to write! i also changed it to doctor instead of nurse if that’s okay :)

warnings: mentions of blood, angst, fluff

pairing: doctor!peter x avenger!reader

wc: 1508

note: assume the reader got bit by the spider instead

masterlist | taglist

the fast pace and constant demands of the hospital often left peter with little free time for himself. on the rare occasion that he found himself with some down time at the office, he scrolled through the endless amount of notifications that he missed on his phone.

his eyebrows knit together when he finds the series of missed calls from you. he dialed you back, the concern only growing as he listened to ring after ring. his mind raced with possibilities of what could be wrong. you finally picked up, he let out a sigh of relief. “baby, you okay? i’m sorry i missed your calls, what’s going on?”

there was a brief silence on the other end before you spoke in a weak voice, “it’s nothing major, just wanted to let you know i’m...” you trailed off, muttering curses to yourself when you accidentally pressed the gash on your stomach. “i’m bringing you chinese! can’t imagine how hungry you are right now, hm?”

“that didn’t sound good. what’s going on?” peter bounced his leg anxiously.

“nothing, it’s just been one of those nights. i’m sore from dodging bullets.” you sigh.

“oh yeah, you stopped that bank robbery over in brooklyn, didn’t you?”

“uh huh. and i helped an old lady cross the street! i think that was the highlight of my night.” the more you spoke, the more winded you felt. you gasped when you found that your hand was coated in blood now.

“that’s great honey, but you sound like you’re about to pass out. why don’t you hurry on over? i don’t like the idea of you walking around by yourself, avenger or not.”

once you ended the call with peter, you released a pained moan you’d been holding through your entire conversation.

a stab to the stomach was no joke. you knew if peter were here right now, he’d tell you to keep pressure on it until you could get proper care. but there was almost no use for that anymore, you could still feel the blood seeping out.

every step you took sent a jolt of shooting pain up your side, and it was getting harder to catch your breath. you knew if you didn’t get to peter soon, you’d have bigger problems than a gash.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

“hey,” you breathe out, leaning against the door frame of his office. “before you ask, no i didn’t get you chopsticks. i’m tired of you claiming you know how to use them, and then tell me they’re broken when you have trouble with them.”

“they are broken. why do you think i can’t use them…” he trailed off when he noticed your teeth sinking into your lip. your eyes looked weak as well, and your forehead was damp with sweat. “either you’re severely constipated, or you had a rough night out there.” he smiled sympathetically.

“no, just severely stabbed. check it out.” you stumbled into the room and set the food on his desk before you slowly uncovered the wound, showing off the bloody mess.

“oh my god.” peter gasped. “you never told me you got stabbed!” he bent down to get a better view of the gash. as he examined your wound, his mind raced. he had seen his fair share of injuries in his line of work, but he felt a more extreme amount of concern for you.

“remember when i told you i helped that old lady cross the street? well, she actually thought i was trying to rob her, so she stabbed me and took off across the street and honestly? good for her. you never know who’s out to get you on these streets.”

“you didn’t think to lead off with that? ‘hey babe, i got stabbed and i’m damn near bleeding to death’ just happened to slip your mind?” he fussed. peter quickly got you situated on the patient bed and rolled on some gloves. he cautiously removed the top half of your suit, mindful of the pain you were experiencing.

“i thought if i bought you food it’d lessen the blow. i guess i forgot to mention i got stabbed.” you winced as he began to clean your wound, the pain was almost nauseating. his heart sunk at your desperate fight to keep your eyes open.

“you’re alright, you’re gonna be just fine. i just need to stop the blood. i just know you’ve lost a lot.” he muttered, more to himself than you.

“oh. that can be bad.” you responded anyway.

“can be? it is bad. how are you not taking this seriously? your life might not be a big deal to you, but it’s a pretty big one to me.”

“i still see this as a win. she crossed the street faster than she would’ve if i wasn’t there. really, you should seen those little legs take off-“

“would you shut up? i don’t see this as a win at all. you could’ve died tonight. my girlfriend, the woman i love, nearly escaped death tonight, and you just think it’s a big game.” he scoffed, shaking his head as threw away blood-drenched gauze.

“hey, cut me some slack. when i’m out there, saving lives is my priority. i can’t save people and myself at the same time. it’s either i save them or die trying.” you defended, squeezing his shoulder when he wipes a little harshly.

peters anger falters when you do this, and he turns his head to kiss your fingers as an apology. he sighs but continues to dress your wounds.

“i know, i’m sorry. i don’t mean to tell you how to do your job but… this is happening way too often now. every other day you’re coming in here with something broken or bleeding, and you just don’t care. i know you’ve got abilities, but what happens when someday, someone gets the jump on you and you can’t protect yourself?”

“then i’ll have my sexy doctor patch me up.” you wink at him.

“sure,” peter nods his head. “and what happens when i can’t get to you? what happens then?” his voice was gentle, but firm enough to make your smile fade and tear your gaze away from his intense one. “do you know what it does to me when i see you like this? i mean, i’ve seen a lot of injuries as a doctor, but when it’s you i have to see hurt like this… it’s something entirely different.”

you were quiet as he finished cleaning you up. you didn’t realize how much this affected peter. if he knew the truth, he’d know that every time you’re out there, you fear that every night could be your last.

“sometimes i don’t have time to care, pete. as long as i get the job done, i don’t really care what happens to me. take tonight for example. did that old lady stab the shit out of me? yes, but she also crossed the street successfully. its always a job well done if people walk out safe, even if that doesn’t include me. you can understand that, right? our jobs are almost similar in that way.”

“yeah, i feel you on that,” he gently pushes his way further between your legs, his hands caressing your thighs soothingly. “but still, if you’re dead, you can’t really save them, can you?”

you nod in agreement, fully understanding where he was coming from.

“just please try to be a little more careful? what am i gonna do without my little web-weaver?” he smirks playfully.

“oh, is that what you’re calling me now? what happened to web slinger and web-head? or, my personal favorite, webs?”

he chuckles, lightly pressing his nose against yours. “promise me you’ll be more careful. i’m serious.”

“i promise i will. but i really wasn’t expecting that lady to stab me. it’s not like i was throwing myself in harms way there.” you shrug.

he cups your cheek, caressing it softly before pulling you in for a gentle kiss. you hum into the kiss, and laughed when his free hand found home on your side.

“hm, you must enjoy me being in pain. i didn’t peg you for a sadist, baby.” you teased.

“nah, that kiss was to make up for the fact that i’m gonna have to stitch you up. i know you hate needles.”

“stitches? no, don’t do this to me!” you throw your head back and whine.

“i know, i know. but your wound is really deep. it won’t heal properly without stitches, webs.” he pouted, running his thumb over your cheek. “don’t worry yourself. i’ll numb you up and be done in no time.”

“i can’t believe this.” you shake your head.

“ugh, i know right? i have to save your life. this is such an inconvenience to my night.” peter sassed you, making you roll your eyes at him.

throughout the entire ordeal, peter did everything in his power to ease your pain and make sure you were comfortable. peter was a doctor, but he was your boyfriend first.

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[redneonmoons]

It’s God’s Will [Vash X Reader][3/3]

Word Count: ~4.6k Description: The gang wakes up after a night of celebration. Problem is no one remembers the night and there might have been a wedding? A/N: search history now has ‘wikihow marriage license’ in it cause I don’t exactly know how that works and I’m banking on your guys don’t either lmao. This is written for entertainment value not accuracy anyway. [Part1] [Part 2]

It was another few hours before a doctor came into the room, “Is Y/N here?”

“Yes?” you answered as everyone got up from their seats.

“Can I speak to you privately?” the doctor asked.

“Hey, are you going to tell us if Vash is ok or not?” Meryl interrupted.

“He’s fine, I just need to go over some things with Y/N,” The doctor replied before turning to you, “Follow me.”

You looked back at Meryl and Wolfwood, shrugging as you left the room. You followed the doctor through several hallways. You hoped she was taking you to Vash but was confused on why just you specifically. You doubt Vash would make that request, all of you were friends.

The doctor stopped at a random door and turned to you, “I had to speak with you privately since you’re the spouse—”

“Wait, what?” You interrupted, not believing what you just heard.

“The records say you are married to Mr. Vash,” the doctor said, confused.

“No no no no, there’s got to be some kind of mistake,” you said, waving your hands, “No one even remembers the wedding cause we were all blackout drunk.”

“Well, you seem to remember it and there are official papers stating so. You’ll have to talk to town hall about it if it is indeed untrue,” The doctor continued, “Regardless, let’s get back to Vash. He's stable and resting at the moment, however, we want to keep him here overnight to make sure everything is okay. Are you alright with that?”

“Yes, of course,” you almost couldn’t pay attention as you tried to figure out how your marriage was officiated.

“Do you wish to see him?” the doctor asked.

You nodded as she opened the door for you. The room was bare, just a bed, chair, and nightstand. A radio played music softly and Vash’s coat and glasses were neatly folded and set on the chair. 

You walked over to the bed where Vash slept; the color on his face was still off. You knelt down, holding his prosthetic hand as you watched him slowly inhale and exhale. Your panic from earlier melted away as your brain accepted Vash was okay.

You couldn’t stay forever though, so you got up and kissed Vash’s beauty mark. You immediately felt stupid for doing that and quickly made your leave. Thankfully, you had a good sense of direction as you made it back to the waiting room Meryl and Wolfwood were in.

“They’re going to keep Vash overnight to make sure everything is good,”  you said, “You should be able to visit him. He’s in room 103.”

“What about you?” Meryl asked.

“I need to run an errand, I’ll be right back,” you smiled reassuringly before heading out, “Okay, bye!”

You heard Wolfwood yelling back something but you were already out the door. It wasn’t yet dusk as you hoped town hall was still open. Taking a right, you briskly walked to the center of town.

The town hall was one of the oldest buildings. It was mostly made from stone and bricks with metal additions that were added through the years. You walked up the steps and tried the door. It opened and you entered the lobby. A receptionist looked up from his papers, “How can I help you?”

You walked over to the desk, “Um, I need to check and possibly update my marital records?” you didn’t know how to word the question with such a bizarre situation.

“You’ll need to speak with Ms. Moore. She’s the first office to the left, down that hall,” he pointed and then returned to his paperwork.

“Thanks,” you replied, heading down the hallway.

You found the door with Ms. Moore’s name and knocked.

“Come in!” a cheery voice answered.

You opened the door to find Ms. Moore, a younger woman with her hair tied up in a bun. She was surrounded by file cabinets with pills of files filling up her desk.

“Hello, take a seat, I’m Ms. Moore,” she greeted, moving a stack of files off her desk to the floor next to her, “I’m the familial and martial records archivist. How can I help you today?”

You sat down on the only chair that wasn’t covered in files, “I was at the hospital earlier and they said I’m married.”

“Okay, are you not?” She asked.

You sighed, your head dropping as you realized you were going to have to explain it to her, “A week or so ago my friends and I got blackout drunk and one of them decided to take it upon themself to get me and another friend married. I thought the person who performed the marriage wasn’t an authorized officiant and no one remembered so I didn’t think it was officiated.”

“Interesting,” Moore said, “Can’t say I’ve had this situation before. Let’s check the records for a marriage license. What’s the last then first name?”

“It’s L/N,” you said as the archivist pulled out a drawer and started sifting through the files, “And my first is Y/N.”

“Okay,” Moore drew out as she double checked, “I’m not seeing anything under that, is there another name it could be?”

“I don’t remember the marriage license or signing anything, but,” you paused, hoping Wolfwood didn’t actually do this, “Try Stampede.”

“Stampede, now I remember that,” Moore spun in her chair to another cabinet, “I thought it was an odd last name. Oh, here it is.”

She pulled out a file and put it on her desk, opening it up.

“Okay, here’s your marriage license and it says here your legal name is now Y/N the Stampede,” Moore said.

You facepalmed; you were going to kill Wolfwood when you saw him again. You dragged your hand down your face as you looked at the license Ms. Moore was showing you. There it was, your messy signature along with Vash’s.

“This Nicholas D. Wolfwood, he’s the officiant and the person who decided to get you and Vash married?” the archivist asked.

You sighed, “Yeah, didn’t realize he was authorized.”

“Do you wish to null the marriage?”

You stopped yourself from saying no, “Y-yes. Yes,” Vash doesn’t know, it isn’t fair to him.

“Well, to do that you’ll need to either have your spouse also agree to a divorce or have Mr. Wolfwood nullify it since both of you were intoxicated.”

Great, now you had to pick between a hard place and a rock. You knew your chances with Wolfwood were slim but you definitely didn’t want to tell Vash, especially since he’s still recovering.

“Lovely,” you got up from your seat, “Thanks for the help.”

“You’re welcome, I hope you figure everything out,” Moore replied.

You left town hall feeling drained already. The sun was finally setting as you made your way back to the hospital. You’ve decided to fight Wolfwood tomorrow about the whole marriage thing. You just wanted to be by Vash’s side now.

The hospital was quiet as you walked to Vash’s room. Most of the lights were shut off leaving you with just enough light to see your way through the hallways. You successfully managed your way to room 103 and carefully opened the door so you didn’t wake Vash.

Meryl and Wolfwood turned to you. Vash’s coat and glasses have been moved to the nightstand as Meryl sat in the chair. Wolfwood leaned with his cross on the wall across from Vash.

“Where did you go?” Meryl asked, keeping her voice low.

You didn’t have the energy to reply so you just shook your head and walked over to Vash. He was now lightly snoring which you took as a good sign. 

“Let’s go, Meryl,” Wolfwood said, grabbing his cross and walking to the door, “Give Y/N some alone time with Vash.”

You turned to the undertaker about to retort but he just winked at you and left. Meryl got up from her chair.

“What’s in the box?” Meryl asked.

You slowly looked over at her, “None of your business.”

Meryl looked at you suspiciously but didn’t respond, following Wolfwood. When the door shut, you sighed and pulled the chair up to Vash’s bed. You less than gracefully fell into the chair and set your head on the bed, looking at Vash’s sleeping form. At some point, you fell asleep.

Your back ached as you slowly woke up. You could have sworn you felt someone running their hand through your hair but as soon as you shifted and started stretching out the feeling was gone. You tried to stretch your arms out but were blocked. You opened your eyes to see Vash sitting up in bed looking down at you.

“Morning,” he grinned.

“Mmmm,” you grunted as you sat up, “How are you feeling?”

“Better now,” Vash gave you a thumbs-up, “I hope I didn’t scare you too much.”

“Only the normal amount,” you yawned, covering your mouth as you did so.

A knock sounded on the door and a nurse peaked in, “Oh Mr. Vash, you’re awake. Do you mind if we do a few tests to make sure you’re all set to leave?”

“I don’t mind,” Vash replied as the nurse entered the room.

In the hallway, you saw Wolfwood and you remembered how he changed your last name. Gritting your teeth, you got up and stormed out of the room, wanting to get this over with.

“Oh hey, you look happy to see me,” Wolfwood smirked.

You grabbed his collar and shoved him against the wall, “I’ve about had it with your shit.”

“My shit? I’ve hardly done anything for this amount of aggression,” Wolfwood replied coyly, “Unless there’s something you want to tell me?”

You looked side to side to see some people staring and eavesdropping. You let go of Wolfwood’s shirt and stepped back.

“Let’s go somewhere more private,” you said, walking down the hall.

Wolfwood shrugged and followed after, grabbing his cross.

You found a dead-end alleyway behind the hospital. kicking at the trash on the ground, you turned to the undertaker. He set his cross against a wall and pulled out a cig, lighting it and sticking it into his mouth.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” He said, blowing smoke into your face.

Your nose crinkled as you swatted away the smoke and plucked the cig from his mouth. You dropped it on the ground and stomped on it.

“I don’t believe you when you say you don’t remember what happened that night,” you declared.

“The feeling’s mutual,” Wolfwood replied, “You’ve been acting weird since that night. Now I might not remember what happened but it seems like you do and it has something to do with me.”

You stared at him for a moment, you really, really didn’t want to tell him what happened but you’ve made your bed, now you must lay in it.

“You,” you jabbed your finger on Wolfwood’s chest, hoping aggression would be a better persuader than straight-up begging, “somehow orchestrated a marriage between Vash and I, and now my legal name is Y/N the Stampede.”

Wolfwood stared at you in disbelief before he started laughing hysterically. You crossed your arms as he choked on his spit, still laughing. 

“Laugh it up, asshole,” you deadpanned, if you weren’t so embarrassed by the whole ordeal you would probably find it as funny as the undertaker.

Wolfwood wheezed as he had trouble breathing properly, his hands on his knees. He brushed away the tears forming around his eyes as he straightened.

“You’re telling me, there was a whole ass wedding and no one remembers but you,” he said, coughing as he went into another laughing fit.

“Yes, and the only person who can nullify it is the officiant, which apparently is you,” you replied.

Wolfwood stopped laughing, “Wait, you want me to nullify the marriage?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said, “No one remembers and we were all drunk. That’s not a real wedding.”

“Sorry, it must have been God’s will,” Wolfwood lit another cigarette, blowing out smoke before continuing, “Besides, don’t you like Needle-noggin anyway?”

You felt the blush creep up from your neck to your ears. You opted to stare at an interesting piece of garbage on the ground as Wolfwood waited for an answer.

“Exactly,” he said, your silence confirming everything, “That’s why I won’t nullify it. If you want a divorce you’ll have to tell Vash yourself.”

“You are a fucking asshole, Wolfwood,” you mumbled, your hands curling into fists at your side.

“Tell me something,” Wolfwood ignored your comment, “Do you have those rings in that fancy little box of yours?”

“Are you going to tell Meryl?” you asked in return.

“Nah, even though she totally tried getting into it last night,” Wolfwood replied.

You never could quite believe him but you knew sooner or later it will spill either by your or someone else’s doing, “Yes, the rings are in the box. Along with all the photos.”

Wolfwood chuckled before getting serious again, “You need to tell Needle-noggin. Soon, it’s not very fair to hide this from him, don’t ya think?”

“And it's not very fair to marry two intoxicated people but here we are,” you scoffed.

Wolfwood ignored you and grabbed his cross, walking back into the hospital, leaving you to your thoughts.

You don’t remember how long you stayed out there but eventually, you went back to Vash’s hospital room and helped him check out with Wolfwood. All three of you returned to your temporary house. Meryl had gone shopping for some groceries so the group can make some dinner while Vash recovers. She and Wolfwood were preparing dinner as you sat on the porch staircase, looking out to the endless sands.

You didn’t feel like talking to anyone or doing much of anything since your conversation with Wolfwood. You were embarrassed by how you acted and are still acting. You knew you should have told everyone what happened that night instead of keeping a secret that slowly ate at you from the inside out. But you were always an anxious person and that anxiety makes you do some rash things. Or in this case not do things you really should.

You heard someone walk up behind you. You glanced over as Vash sat next to you on the steps. He gave you an easy smile and looked out at the desert with you. Most of his color was back but you could tell he was still a bit ill, moving more slowly and sleeping often.

“Are you alright?” he finally spoke, breaking the comfortable silence.

“No,” you answered honestly, not elaborating.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Vash asked.

“No,” you sighed, “But I’ll have to eventually.”

Vash leaned into you slightly for a second, giving you a soft smile, “I’ll wait until you’re ready then.”

You don’t know why, but you felt a weight being lifted from your shoulders with Vash’s words. Somehow you kept forgetting that Vash was the nicest person you know and that he’ll understand anything. You just didn’t want to ruin that.

“Thanks,” you smiled back.

“Lunch is ready!” Meryl called from the house.

You and Vash turn to the door before looking at each other. As Vash slowly got up, you rose, your hands hovering around him in case he lost his balance. He didn’t and you both entered the house and walked to the dining room. Meryl and Wolfwood were already seated at one side of the table, so you and Vash sat together. 

Dinner was potatoes, bread, and some type of meat. Vash carefully picked at his food as Wolfwood stole a piece of meat from Meryl’s plate.

“Hey,” she protested, taking a piece of his potatoes as payback, “You got plenty on your plate.”

“Yeah, but you overcooked my steak,” Wolfwood replied.

“You cooked the steak genius,” Meryl retorted, dodging the undertaker’s attempts at more of her steak.

“Guys, c'mon let’s just eat off our own plates,” Vash interrupted, his voice coming out more tired than normal.

The two stopped but not before shoving at each other one last time. You just watched and ate, glancing over at Vash to make sure he was okay. You caught Wolfwood looking over at you and he quickly winked in return. You pressed your mouth into a thin line before going back to your plate, not wanting to give him a response.

“Hopefully that gang will leave us alone now,” Meryl said.

“They better after the hell I gave them,” Wolfwood replied and turned to Vash, “I didn’t kill anyone so be grateful.”

Vash chuckled, “Yeah, thanks,” he paused for a second before speaking again, “I think I’m going to retire. Night, all.”

“Night,” you all chimed as he got up and walked to his room, shutting the door.

You looked back down at your plate and continued eating. When you didn’t hear the others doing the same you looked back up. Meryl and Wolfwood were staring at you, Meryl with a determined look while Wolfwood shrugged at you like he was forced to do something.

“Wha—” you started before Meryl brushed her plate to the side and placed the box on the table. It had been noticeably chipped at.

“What’s in the box?” Meryl asked.

You stilled, glancing over at Wolfwood for any help. He just subtly shook his head.

“None of your business,” you turned back to Meryl. 

“I’m not taking that answer anymore. You’ve been acting weird since that night we all got blackout drunk and as a reporter, it's my job to find out what happened,” Meryl said.

“You’re not reporting that night in the papers so what does it matter?” you asked.

“So you do know what happened?” Meryl pressed, she was standing and leaning over the table now.

“I never said that,” You retorted, crossing your arms and leaning back in your seat as you tried to give an air of confidence.

“You’re hiding something and it's in this box, I know it.”

“Well, it looks like you had trouble getting into it. You know it's rude to take people’s things,” you said.

“Why are you so desperate to keep it a secret?”

“Does it have to do with Vash?” Wolfwood decided to join in.

You scowled at him as he smirked at you. Sure he wasn’t going to tell Meryl but you guess that doesn’t mean he won’t help her. Meryl watched both of you before turning back to you, waiting for an answer.

You sighed, the fight leaving you as your shoulders slumped. You were tired of being embarrassed and made fun of.

“It’s embarrassing,” you started, not looking at the two.

You heard Meryl slowly sit back down, catching your shift from defensive to defeated. Your crossed arms turned to holding yourself for comfort as you prepared to spill.

“First I would like to say this is all Wolfwood’s fault,” you started; if you were going down, you definitely were dragging him with you, “He stole Vash’s arm and sold it for a pair of rings. He, somehow, convinced Vash and I to get married and officiated it, even getting the fucking license and having us sign it.”

“Want to tell Meryl what your new name is,” Wolfwood prompted, apparently very proud of his “creation”.

“Y/N the Stampede,” you mumbled, turning away.

“What was that?” Meryl asked, having not heard you.

“Y/N the Stampede,” you said a little louder, blushing in embarrassment.

Meryl’s cheeks puffed out as she tried to hold in laughter and failed a second later. She slammed her hand on the table, already losing her breath. Wolfwood grinned with her. You just looked miserably at the pair as you waited for them to finish.

After a minute or so, Meryl suddenly looked confused, “Wait, how do you know about this Wolfwood?”

“Y/N told me this morning,” Wolfwood replied, “Trying to get me to nullify the marriage so she didn’t have to tell Vash.”

“What?” Meryl before she turned back to you, “Vash doesn’t know?”

“Of course not, everyone got blackout drunk. I thought it was a dream before I saw the photos.” you replied.

“What photos?” Meryl replied, “You said most weren’t viable.”

You rolled your eyes and took off your boot, grabbing the key and throwing it across the table to Meryl, “I lied.”

She took the key and immediately opened the box, going through all the photos, “Oh my god.”

You put your boot back on as she continued to go through the box. She reached the end of the photos and pulled out the string that held the rings. Wolfwood and Meryl analyzed them for a few moments.

“Why haven’t you told Vash?” Meryl asked, putting everything back into the box.

“Mmmm,” you didn’t answer.

“Y/N,” Meryl pressed.

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” you answered.

“Why would that ruin your friendship?”

You were not liking this interrogation very much, “Cause I like him.”

“Awww,” Meryl cooed, “Well that’s just perfect you’re already married so you can skip over the dating part.”

“Meryl this is serious,” you warned.

“I know, but you have to admit it's kinda funny,” she said.

“Yes, I know,” you replied, “But since it’s still ongoing and I’m a part of it, it is not exactly funny to me at the moment.”

The table fell silent as Meryl processed everything she just learned and you sat uncomfortable, wanting to crawl into your bed and never leave. Wolfwood got up, grabbed his cross, and left to smoke outside for the evening. Meryl started taking the empty plates to wash and you got up to help clean off the table.

“I’m going to bed,” you said, grabbing the box and key.

You twisted the doorknob all the way and silently opened the door. You carefully shut it behind you as well and walked to the far end where your shared dresser was. You set the box and key on it before resting your hands next to it as you felt your energy drain from your body. You were already drained from your conversation with Wolfwood earlier and now that conversation with Meryl sapped you out of everything else. However, you did feel part of your self-imposed burden lift.

“Are Meryl and Wolfwood giving you a hard time?” Vash asked.

You snapped in his direction, “I thought you were asleep.”

You vaguely saw Vash shrug in the shadows, “You guys were a bit loud.”

“Oh,” you paused, “So you heard us…”

“Not enough to hear what was said,” Vash replied, watching you for a moment, “Is it about that thing you weren’t ready to talk about?”

You nodded, “Yeah.”

Vash didn’t say anything after as you leaned over the dresser still. After a few moments, you finally pushed yourself up and sat on your bed so you could take off your boots.

“Um,” you barely heard Vash as he spoke up again, “If you want, you could lay with me if that’ll make you feel better.”

You couldn’t see his face but you could tell he was nervous asking you. You wanted to question it but you wouldn’t pass on such a nice offer since it’d probably be ruined tomorrow when you tell him what happened.

You must haven’t answered soon enough cause Vash started backtracking, “That is, if you want—”

“Sure,” you interrupted before he could talk himself out of it, “That sounds nice actually.”

You heard him shift as you got up and walked over to his bed.

“It’ll probably be best if you climb over to the other side,” Vash said, in reference to his prosthetic arm.

“Okay,” you replied, carefully maneuvering yourself over Vash and dropping on the left side of the bed.

Once you were under the covers, you wrapped your arms around Vash’s waist and pulled yourself into his chest. Vash stiffed at first before relaxing and wrapping his arms around you, his chin resting on the top of your head. Vash’s fast heart rate eventually steadied as you both lay there. You took a deep breath, taking in Vash’s smell before slowly drifting off to sleep.

You were slow to wake as you felt a sense of deja vu sharing Vash’s bed. You both were still holding onto each other. Vash sturred awake as you leaned back to see his face. He smiled at you before yawning.

“Morning,” you whispered.

“Morning,” Vash replied then chuckled, “This feels familiar.”

You raised a brow at him as he smiled, nervously.

“At the hospital, you fell asleep with your head on the bed,” Vash explained..

The corners of your mouth lifted before you remembered the box and pulled away from Vash; his brows furrowed at your actions, “What’s wrong?”

“Remember when I said there’s something I would need to talk to you about?” you asked, holding your hands to your chest as Vash gently held your waist.

“Yes?” Vash answered.

You jerked your head in the direction of the box and key, “What’s in that box will tell you everything.”

Vash turned around and sat up, leaning over to grab the box and key before putting it on his lap. You rolled over, you didn’t want to see his reaction. You heard the box unlock and its hinge squeak as it was opened. Vash shifted through the photos and picked them up. You tensed up as you heard him make a eek noise while looking at the photos. He shuffled through more and lightly laughed at one. You finally heard the clinking noise of the rings as Vash bought them out of the box.

“I thought it was just a dream,” he said, which made you roll back over.

Vash looked down at you and smiled. Blush brushed his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Rem told me a little about marriages,” he paused, “I won’t mind trying it with you.”

You pushed yourself up, your eyes wide, “What? You like me that way?”

You had forced yourself to doubt Vash would like you that way, you felt like you couldn’t comprehend any other outcome. Now Vash was sitting next to you, saying he wouldn’t mind being married.

His face grew more red before he squeaked, “Yes.”

You grabbed Vash’s cheeks, bringing his face to yours, “Can I kiss you?”

He just smiled and connected his lips with yours. You both held the kiss for a few long moments, your hands moving to Vash’s shoulders. When it ended you looked into each other's eyes.

Vash then turned to the rings, “In that case…”

Your hands left his shoulders as he undid the string’s knot and dropped the rings into his hand. Vash gently grabbed your left hand and slipped on your ring. You followed suit and did the same. You both held each other's hands, looking at the rings.

“There’s something else I need to confess,” you said.

“Oh?” Vash replied.

“Remember that the morning after the party, when we woke up in the hotel room?” Vash nodded and you continued, “we were sleeping in the same bed.”

Vash put a hand on the back of his head, “Oh, I kinda figured.”

“Huh?” you exclaimed.

“I woke up before you then fell back asleep,” Vash explained, “I assumed you were embarrassed so I didn’t say anything.”

You shook your head, smiling, “And I thought I was the one trying to save you the embarrassment.”

You both chuckled before you spoke again, “Guess I’m going to have to live with the name Y/N the Stampede now.”

“What?!”

[Part1] [Part 2]

[victimeyez]

The Aftermath

pt 3 of Professional//Victim x Prev x Next x

VOTE for the next chapter here UPDATE: CLOSED

After an intense "historical reenactment", someone needs to patch up Tommy.

TAGLIST: @suspicious-whumping-egg @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi   @whumpyourdamnpears @generic-whumperz @lonesome--hunter

CW: Drugged whump, medical whump, captive whumpee

~

“-dead yet?”

Tommy started to come to, and immediately began to take stock of his body. 

He was laid on his front, sideways in the backseat of the car, drooling on Caius’s lap. His memories of Darwin started to come back to him, and he closed his eyes against them sharply, as if to stop them from coming. 

Caius replied to the other voice. 

“He’s breathing. Looks like he’s waking up, actually.”

Caius’s hand steadied him by his shoulder, which was mercifully numb. Actually, his whole body felt numb, and weak, when he started to stir.

“Don’t move too much. I had to break out the injectables to keep you from fully going into shock.”

“Is he going to bleed all over my car again? Caius, I swear to god-” 

“Rory, shut your damn mouth. This isn’t amateur hour anymore.”

“Is he stable?” Michelle asked. Tommy wanted to know that, too.

Caius drummed his fingers absentmindedly on Tommy’s shoulder. He could feel the pressure of it distantly, but without pain or feeling. It felt weird to be so disconnected from his body.

“Stable enough, until we get him to Sam. I packed all the holes in with bleedstop and he’s practically mummified in quickclot. We went through most of the injectables.”

“Sam’s gunna be pissed,” Rory added helpfully.

“He isn’t paid to get pissy. He’ll deal.”

“If this guy wants another session, he’ll have to come to us.” Rory continued to complain. 

“No, he can’t. He has a whole…set-up.”

They continued to talk while Tommy drifted in and out. 

                                                                            ~

Caius and Tommy were dropped off outside of Dr. Sam Snow’s hidden office. They had an old wheelchair in the trunk to put him in, but the last of the meds were waning. He was in a considerable amount of pain with the bumps of every little bit of gravel or crack in the road as Caius pushed him along. He grit his teeth and tried to keep his groaning to a minimum. 

Caius rapt on an unassuming alley door three times, and waited. Knowing Sam, it would be a few, so he leaned against the bricks and started scrolling through his phone.

They sat in whatever their version of companionable silence was, until there was a familiar grinding sound behind the door. Caius pocketed his phone and stood back behind Tommy’s wheelchair, right as the door opened, thick as a bank vault.

A man leaned out, with dirty blond hair too scruffy to look professional. Sam looked perpetually bedraggled.

“Oh good, my favorites,” He addressed Caius, before turning to eye Tommy in the wheelchair.

“That bad, huh?”

“Even worse,” Caius said with a rueful grin.

Sam stepped out long enough to grab the handles of Tommy’s wheelchair, and popped him onto the back wheels to get him over the entranceway stair. Tommy shrieked in pain, muted somewhat by his instinct to keep his lips closed. He grit his teeth, protective of his wounded mouth. 

“Shut up,” Sam said mildly, and pushed him through the doorway down a dimly lit hallway.

This part of the building certainly didn’t feel like a doctor’s office. To the left and right there were rooms long abandoned, filled with broken glass and furniture, painted in old graffiti. 

Caius followed, pushing the red button beside the door to make it pull closed and lock behind him. 

They took a hard right and came to a metal door that Sam opened with a badge and a code. It always felt so unnecessary, but Tommy could only guess at the value of the contents within. 

The door opened and Sam pushed him through, walking him past his office on the right and straight into a wide, square lab that the networks of hallways flanked. It was coldly lit, but bright inside, with a generous strip of window circling the room for open visibility. Tommy was pulled backwards into the familiar glass door, and it felt like the temperature dropped a good five degrees past the threshold. 

“You’ll want to put him on his front,” Caius offered, stepping in after them and parting off to the right to find the small group of plastic chairs tucked to the far side. 

“Yeah, don’t bother helping me or anything, I’ve got it,” Sam remarked with sarcasm, but he pulled Tommy out of the chair and across his shoulder to lay him awkwardly on the exam table. Tommy didn’t fight, and rolled off of his side onto his stomach and laid face down. The exam table had a little hole in the end that he could comfortably put his face in, like a massage table. 

He closed his eyes. At least Sam was usually pretty heavy-handed with the drugs.

He felt a tugging on his pant leg as Sam’s scissors started to work their way up his leg, snipping his clothes off for easy removal. Sam didn’t comment until he was laid bare, the remnants of his clothing cast aside. 

“What the fuck is this?!” Sam called to Caius. Tommy knew better than to mistake his anger being over his well-being - he was just pissed about the amount of work his injuries took him to fix. 

“Yeah, this guy went medieval on him. Had a whole bunch of like, historical torture implements. He bound him up in some type’a spiky chair, with extra attachments. He hit him with a cattle prod until Tommy pissed himself and blacked out.”

Sam made a sound of revulsion. 

“Did he at least pay well?”

“Ehhh,” Caius thought for a moment. “He paid a lot, but still had a first-time discount.”

“I hope he tipped like a motherfucker, because this-” Tommy could imagine Sam waving a hand over his mutilated body in a lazy sweep.

“-Is gonna cost ya.”

Tommy imagined Caius’s stupid shrug at that, too. 

Sam’s gloved hands felt warm while he probed him, looking over the injuries to gauge the severity.

“I can’t see shit with all the fuckin’ powder. He’s gonna need a saline rinse.”

Tommy knew it was coming, but shuddered anyways. He heard Sam unwind the hose and open the nozzle without finesse, standing back so he wouldn’t get caught in the spray. The saline was luke-warm at best, and Tommy shivered as the solution washed away the last of his body heat. He gritted his teeth to try to keep them from chattering, and watched as pink water poured off the table and lazily swirled around the drain built into the floor. 

It didn’t hurt much at first, but as Sam really started to blast away the dried blood and clotting powder, it became a grueling test of endurance. The pink water beneath the table started to become more clear, and then quickly turned to a red as his wounds started to reopen under the spray. He heard Caius say something from the corner, but he couldn’t make it out over the shower. It seems Sam couldn’t either, because the jet mercifully stopped. 

“What?”

“Can’t you give him a numbing gel or something?”

“Oh!” Sam exclaimed, and Tommy saw his feet retreat away from the table. 

“I plum forgot, he was being so good - Tommy, why’d you let me do that?” Sam mocked, but he returned and began working a thick ointment across his back. It took only moments for the gel to take effect, bringing blessed relief to every wound it touched. Tommy closed his eyes as the pain finally started to subside, and the paste left his skin feeling warm and completely numb. 

“I think you owe Caius a big thank you, don’t you?” Sam pushed, as he saw Tommy start to visibly relax under his hands. 

(Actually, I think I owe Caius a big shot to the face,) Tommy mused to himself, but he said nothing.

“His mouth is messed up, you’re not gonna get anything from him.” Caius commented, unamused by Sam’s playful mood. 

Sam groaned at the mention of more work, but finished rubbing the numbing ointment in without further comment. Tommy closed his eyes, and without the pain caging him in his body, he was finally able to drift. To go somewhere - anywhere -  where he wasn’t ass-up on a table about to be needled over. 

He was a little grateful to Caius, but it was…complicated. He remembered when he was first in, and so scared, and thought he might find some help in the other man. 

“We all have different roles here to make the business work,” Caius explained. Tommy was curled up in a ball on the sleeping roll Caius had brought him. 

“I’m your handler. I’m not your friend - I’m your boss.”

Tommy had sat up, leaning against the wall and hugging his knees. 

“What about the other guys?”

Caius sighed and sat down next to him, ignoring when Tommy scooted as far away as he could into the corner. 

“Well, they’re your bosses too. But it’s like - I’m like the manager, while they’re in corporate.” Caius seemed to struggle for a better explanation.

“Rory has a fuckin’ mouth on him, sure, but he could sell water to fish. He coordinates appointments, knows a bunch of market research and business shit, so that’s kinda his thing.

“Michelle deals with all the tech stuff, he’s a huge nerd. He uploads all the pictures and videos and stuff to the network, but it’s a hidden network, I don’t know, it’s all beyond me.”

“A network for…this?” Tommy asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Yeah, basically,” Caius replied. “We’re franchise owners, technically. All this - and you-”

He turned to face Tommy fully.

“-Are our business.”

Tommy worried his lip.

“And your job… is to manage me?”

Caius smiled, amused, and adjusted his glasses.

“My job is to make sure you don’t break.”

Caius advocated for him, in a way. And he was nice to him, in a way. But he never wasted breath pretending he did it for Tommy’s good. He managed a balance of keeping Tommy at a low level of stabilization, in spite of everything, to protect his business asset. Abducting people was a huge risk, and not one they could constantly repeat if their other victims died or completely broke down.

He’d heard of other teams with assets like him, sometimes multiple at a time. But if they broke down for good, they weren’t interesting to use anymore and became worthless. Caius afforded him small mercies to maintain a tiny spark of morale, so Tommy continued to be valuable. 

Considering he was this far in, Caius seemed to be very good at his job. 

Tommy was snapped back to the present when the tip of a needle dug deeper than he was numbed, and he hissed with pain. 

“Sorry bud. Just checking to make sure you’re still with us.”

Sam continued poking him with needle after needle, circling every single wound with three triangulating punctures. This batch would take forever. 

Tommy suddenly felt a hand on his upper arm, and realized Caius had crossed the room to watch. 

“Which ones are these?”

Sam took a break to straighten his back for a moment. 

“Well, you haven’t given me a lot to work with. Lucky for you, I just got in this stem cell batch that’s just insane. It’s a more potent combo with extra immunomodulators. Moves weeks of recovery into mere days. I’m also putting our usual pre-scar steroids in, which should also help with the swelling and inflammation.”

“How did you lose your medical license again?”

“I was just too much fun. I’ll top it off with this new wound-food serum I got, it’s supposed to help the body keep up with the crazy-fast healing. I’ll spray him down with a second skin and he’ll need to keep that on for a week. He’ll need lots of rest and lots of food - no starvation punishments and no missed meals.”

“Did you check his mouth yet?”

“Oh fuck,” Sam answered. He started to move Tommy onto his side, but then stopped.

“Ah fuck it. Let me get him patched up here and I’ll take a look.”

It was kind of like getting a tattoo session done, if it were a full-body stick and poke. Sam was methodical and finished the injections before anyone else could have. The serum was applied generously (sloppily) and the second skin sprayed on. A second light with a blue tint was thrown on above the table, and the substance began to dry on across his body.

“Do you know how good you got it? This is cutting-edge stuff, the newest technology that won’t hit the hospitals for decades, if ever. Celebrities pay millions for this stuff.”

Tommy did not respond. 

“Luckily for you, everyone likes a blank page, don’t they? Gotta clear the board for the next guy.”

Tommy grimaced at the floor.

 (Think about - something else. The feeling of biting into a coffee bean. What it looks like, how it feels in your hand. The crunch, the bitterness. Focus on imagining the sensation. Nothing else. No feeling.)

“I’ll take a look at his mouth and whatever that thing on his jaw was, and I’m sending him home. Come back in a week for the second round of steroids. If it’s going well, we might be able to do the first laser treatment the same day.”

There was a numbed touch to his back, where apparently the second skin had finished curing on him, and he was rolled onto his back. He shut his eyes hard against the blinding overhead light. 

“Alright, open up.”

Tommy opened his mouth and Sam grabbed a penlight to examine inside. After a moment, he tsked as if chiding Tommy.

“Don’t you know better than to let strangers put things in your mouth?”

He moved down to do some poking and prodding where the fork had dug into him. He grabbed some now nearly-empty syringes and injected small shots along the edges of the wounds.

“These will be fine. Not even worth a stitch. I’m not going to put on a butterfly just because I want to make sure these heal from the inside out, but I don’t think they’re worth packing.”

Sam applied wound patches over each of the spots, working his fingers into the the edges of the patch until the adhesive melted on. 

“Those ones will be fine. As for the mouth, his tongue is punctured in multiple places and pretty swollen. I have steroids that will calm the swelling down and let it start to heal. Mouths actually heal faster than most other parts of the body, and with a little help those will close up fine. However-”

Sam turned, and started sorting through a couple drawers before turning back around holding a bottle. 

“Rinse four times a day with this solution. When you run out, switch to saltwater. But…he’s going to need to use a feeding tube for a week.”

At that, Tommy put his face over his hands and turned on his side, curling up to shield himself as best he could. The feeding tube was the worst, and he’d only had to use it once before.

“Yeah, I know bud.” Sam patted him on the shoulder with faux sympathy. 

“I’m putting him on a couple oral medications he’ll need to take twice daily AFTER feeding, always after. I’ll make up a care package.”

Sam started pulling various bandages and tubes out of cabinets and stowed them into a bag. Caius had luckily brought Tommy a pair of sweats and a hoodie, which he helped him into while Sam rummaged around. 

“What time next week?”

Sam waived a dismissive hand in Caius’s direction without looking at him.

“Whenever - just don’t be late.”

[anteroom-of-death]

Teacher's Pet part 4

(No gif today since I can't find one that fits)

Synopsis: Reader has a small mental breakdown over her developing feelings for the Doctor.

A/n: yall are the realest bitches I ever met for enjoying this. I love you. Also, I'm going to keep some things mysterious for now. But hey, I got a vague plot and I pound out these to keep the scaries away.

Stupid, stupid and foolish! Pig-headed! Dumb! Childish! Total Moron! You chastised yourself as you went into the women’s restroom and locked yourself in a stall.

Where did you get off developing feelings for a professor? Where did you get off by allowing yourself to get yourself to even begin that? Especially this fucking fast? You knew how men were! You knew that even the good ones weren’t ‘good’ in an empirical sense!

They lie, they cheat. They steal. They manipulate. They go on their phones and take hundreds from “Timmy’s uni fund” and transfer it to their private bank account (often that their poor, downtrodden wives didn’t see or have much access to!) to get their dicks fucking wet. They refuse to shower and they bullshit their way into places they really shouldn’t be.

But him? His smile? His poetry? The way he adored his wife even from a few sentences. Like every cell of his body belonged to this dead woman? The deep Scottish brogue? The way he was tender and cared for every single student? Including your dumb ass? The arch of his nose…and his hands?

It got inside you so quickly.

You continue to internally scold yourself, breaking down into tears.

It borderlined on cliché. Hot for teacher. Daddy issues. One man made you feel special so you got giddy and went and got yourself a crush. You truly were exhibiting what people called “Fatherless Behavior”!

You sobbed deeper into your arms, bringing your legs against your chest. Trying to keep balanced on the toilet, you gently banged your head on the wall beside you a few times. You had to meet with the accommodations people in about forty-five minutes. You had to pull yourself together. Even if it would demonstrate a point. You still had to retain some of your dignity.

Plus, you thought quite pathetically, what if he was out roaming and saw you like this?

You banged your head on the wall about it some more.

You let yourself cry for a few more minutes. Just to exorcize whatever was in your system. You weren’t going to allow yourself to cry over a man, even if that was exactly what you were up to!

After that little emotional outburst was over, you scraped yourself off the toilet and back into the general restroom area. You had to put yourself back together.

Splashing your face off with cool water in the wash basin, you noticed that your skin was inflamed and you had some pimples on your forehead.

“Oh, that’s attractive.” You muttered and started on trying to find the willpower to not pick at them. That’d make it worse. And would affect everything. No amount of makeup covers a sucking wound in a visible area.

You didn’t have much on you except for a medicated chap stick and some concealer, so you made do.

You really regretted listening to him and not smoking now…

Deep breaths, you told yourself. Just keep breathing. Healthy stuff. Plenty of people had told you before. 1, 2 3. Hold, longer 1, 2 3 release. Wash, rinse, repeat.

It worked a bit.

You didn’t work tonight, or tomorrow night. You could afford a bit of a drink. Tonight. Tomorrow would be too late and you’d have dry skin for Thursday night.

That’s what you needed. A night of shit TV, skincare and most of a large bottle of coconut rum drowned in a can of Coke Zero.

Would help remove the feelings coiled in your chest a lot.

Reset the system.

Remove ‘it’, whatever ‘it’ truly was…

You steadied yourself and went to the Disabilities Office and sat in the waiting room after signing in for your appointment.

You pulled out your phone and started flipping through a familiar social media site. The memes perked you up and put a smile on your face. Helped you keep composure. You even replied to a few mutual’s messages and congratulated the one on their new job.

Your meeting came and went. Apparently you could go to student-lead tutoring from people who already took the classes. You got signed up and thanked the councilor, taking the emails for the students to message them and get more in-depth about the struggles you were having

You’d do it later, once you got home…

Speaking of which, you stopped at the store and got a can of Coke and a bottle of rum before trudging inside of it.

You started studying and sending out the emails to your new tutors. Truly a task from hell.

You stopped yourself from having thoughts of another type of tutoring.

The drink you mixed was strong. Perhaps too strong. The show you put on in the background was harshing the vibes so you closed the tab it was on. You checked the site for your place of work. You scoffed at your photos and wondered how little you could pay to get a professional update to them.

Back to school work. Back to projects. You couldn’t afford to let yourself have a stray thought.

The liquor highlighted the slight soft pain you had on the side of your head from the pounding you gave it. You touched it gingerly and gave up.

You weighed your options, you could drop the class and take the failing marks. Or you could be brave and normal. And take the class, just skate by. Hardly ever speak. Take the lowest grade and still fail.

It was a matter of what left you with the most amount of dignity, but also didn’t waste your money or time.

Or heart ache.

Could you really spite yourself like that?

Or just cut off contact for good.

What would not break your heart nor your bank nor your ethics? Was there any option that left all intact and unscarred? Let alone your precious, stupid dignity?

You had too much on your plate as is, now this stupid crush?

And disposing of it?

You drained the rest of your glass and did the bare minimum in the shower. Mainly just let the hot water spill over your head while you stared at the wall.

You put even less effort in on your skin care and teeth brushing.

Just climbed in bed and let sleep find your semi-drunk body and fully-fucked up and over brain.

Your alarm shot you out of bed, leaving your heart racing and your chest heaving. You just didn’t go to get up, let alone do anything. You sent in a mass email from your phone saying that you were sick. You’d let yourself go to work tomorrow night. But you didn’t want to set foot on that campus until you had a better, more stable grip on yourself.

You had a hangover and a sore throat anyways, so it wasn’t a total lie.

Responsibilities be dammed. You chose to rot in bed and doomscroll on social media. It was your mental breakdown and you chose to make it worse. It was your right! And entirely your fault!

You kept yourself in that ball of blankets far too long. Going in and out of consciousness, phone in hand.

Before you knew it, it was Thursday. Late afternoon. You sighed and got up.

You were quite dehydrated and famished. Hardly leaving the bed and relying on the cups that littered the side of your table for your main sources of water for well over twenty-four hours had left you weak and you fainted upon leaving the coil of your bedding.

When you came to, you thanked your lucky stars and any God that may have been paying a half-lick of attention to you in that moment.

You kept it simple and reheated some Chinese takeaway you had in your fridge. It was edible. That’s all you could ask for at the moment. Edible and got you through the waking world…

You went into your bathroom and started not only the long ritual you did to prepare yourself for work, but also repair work for the past two days of neglect. It was hard work. Your face was inflamed, your left side had creases in the skin from the corners of your blankets bunched up.

You stretched out and did a bit of a warm up exercise.

After all of that malarkey, you started chugging a bunch of cold water. Then you started to get your work bag together.

This, this, that, that other thing there, you kept mentally chiding yourself. You were out of materials, hopefully one of your coworkers would be able to lend you some. Just enough to get you by until Friday when the shops would be open. You were pulling a double shift anyways, so what was a sneak out and in. Maybe you’d convince the owner/manager to let you work when you’re usually not on during Friday. Whatever little cash you would make would certainly be welcome, and certainly wouldn’t hurt. You could sleep between appointments or walk-ins!

Maybe you would break your promise to Professor Smith and get yourself a pack of cigarettes and to hell with the entire engagement!

You stretched again and got into street clothes.

You repeated to yourself that you had to keep your mind on money and money on your mind. That it came naturally. Whatever all those dorky manifestations you occasionally saw said. Anything. Just to keep your spirits up and get your mind off other subjects.

Money on your mind was a whole lot healthier than a certain silver-haired professor being in there. And his class you were skipping today…

Who knows, maybe something bad would happen to you and you would be sworn off men in any way except the bare minimum to survive this world for good! You thought catastrophically.

You slid on your street shoes and your coat, slung your work bag over your shoulder and made your way out your door.

What was that one song? And how did it go?

‘So for once in my life

Let me get what I want

Lord knows, it would be the first time…”

Yeah, like that.

[deluxewhump]

The Scry

Ch 14: Your High Table

Prev

CW: noncon drugging, captivity, whumpee with powers, forced to use powers, vomiting and illness, fasting, creepy comfort and carewhumping

Then began a time he forgot himself, a time he can remember only in bits and pieces. Because it was done so skillfully, so relentlessly, it took him a long time to realize on any conscious articulate level that he was being drugged.

Hazy late summer mornings, long evenings, sunlight on golden floors and a gilded Louis XVI desk, moving slowly as the eternal hands of the clock. He didn’t have his laptop anymore, or a phone. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t focus. Once, he remembered trying to find a landline in the sprawling brick house, but found only a vintage candlestick phone in an office, not in any type of working condition. He held the old round receiver to his ear, cool and silent, and closed his eyes.

He thought he heard voices on the other end, but it was just the beginning of a dream. He came back to consciousness hearing their echo. Even if the phone worked, who would he call? He couldn’t remember Max’s cell. Emergency services would take him, probably, but they would figure out what he was and give him back to Spartan. Or worse. He might be in trouble with the government now, for all he knew. Running away was certainly a breach of contract.

He looked for his phone, but guessed it was in the safe in Erik’s office the size of a vending machine, like you’d find in an old bank. The front and back doors of the house would not unlock. There was a mechanism of some kind preventing it that he could only guess was controlled by an app on Dr Holstrom’s phone or a device like a key fob. Max would’ve pointed it out as a fire hazard. For some reason that thought made him laugh. The first floor windows didn’t open, either. So curious. He didn’t have the energy to entertain breaking one. That seemed absurd, and violent. He was very tired, and mostly just testing his surroundings like one tongues at a sore spot on the roof of one’s mouth.

These ventures exhausted him to the point of delirium, and he could not scry for two days afterward. Dr Holstrom didn’t interrogate him for the reason behind this, probably because the house was full of surveillance cameras and he already knew, but tended to him until he was well enough to work again. 

The cycle was unending. Erik would bring him to his office to scry. Carlo’s senses were heightened. He could smell the bourbon on the doctor’s breath, the mechanical warm smell coming off the computer on his desk, the late summer foliage outside, ripe going to rot. He closed his eyes and listened to an old voicemail recording of Clara Holstrom, trying to focus on her voice instead of the way the magnolia leaves outside the window clicked together like the green carapaces of beetles. Clara was thirty, wherever she was, a Smith graduate with tightly curly brown hair, brown eyes, and a knowing smile, so subtle in most of her pictures it was like she was asking him what he was doing looking for her. 

Clara was hard to find. For weeks he feared she might be dead, and then what would happen to him? He’d never tried to scry anything about the dead, he didn’t know if it could be done. It was like an intricate network of telephone wires, or a web of mycelium under the earth, and he just had to pick through the threads that lit up when he touched them, a map to what it was he wanted. The dead were no longer a part of the network. Sometimes the information he sought came to him like an image, a clip of a movie, a word, a number, a phrase. Sometimes it was a strong emotion, hitting him with full force. That made him sickest. With Clara he got nothing but anger again and again. It felt almost good. Righteous. He shared it with her. But when he came back to the study with Erik Holstrom, he needed to throw up, and his head was pounding like there was an axe in it. 

Dr Holstom pushed him harder than Max during these sessions. “Once more,” he’d say, maddeningly gentle but firm. He’d place his hand on the back of Carlo’s hot neck once he was done vomiting stomach bile into a plastic bag. “Once more for me, now. I know. It’ll be over soon.” And he’d replay the cursed voicemail. He heard Clara’s voice in his dreams. 

But Dr Holstrom looked after him afterward, which was more than Martin Olsen ever did. He’d lay him on the green chaise in his study, covering him with blankets or angling a fan toward him, depending on if he was shivering or burning up. He’d give him sugary juice through a straw, pain medicine that Carlo was afraid to ask what it was but took it anyway, because it worked, and not like Tylenol.

One night Erik brought out an IV pole with a bag of clear fluid and put a needle in the back of Carlo’s hand. He’d whimpered in weak dread as his vein burned with the influx of fluid but stopped a moment later when a delicious, giddy peace washed over him. He no longer felt the throbbing pain in his head, or his churning stomach, or the anxiety of his situation. Later he would remember thanking Erik with an unbridled rush of disgust for himself, but in the moment Erik was inevitable as a god, all-powerful and luckily—by chance— merciful. Someone who cared about him when he didn’t have to. Like Max. 

“Shh,” Erik had responded to his drugged thanks, brushing his hair gently back from his forehead. “I think we are closer to her than you think. I know we are. I so appreciate you and your gift. You are an angel, do you know that? A divine tool. Providence.” Erik kissed the back of his non-IV hand and Carlo had to close his eyes to ride the next euphoric, drugged wave that flooded his every physical sensation. 

One evening he woke up and it was already dark. He stared at the clock on the bedside table for a long time, trying to understand if it was morning or evening. Finally he realized it was evening, and that’s why he could smell food cooking downstairs. It was dark because the days were getting shorter. It was autumn. How long had he been here?

He sat up, doing an inventory of his body and finding he was only a little achy, but not in pain. He felt clearer than he’d felt in weeks and weeks, and it was then he was sure he’d been being drugged. Of course he had. Well, and consistently. But how? He knew there were drugs in the IV Erik gave him when he was done scrying, but it was more than that. He’d wake up midmornings and be unable to keep his eyes open, fall back asleep til afternoon. He’d sit at the table at night and placidly fork whatever food was put in front of him into his mouth. He’d shower in cool water for twenty minutes at a time, getting lost in the way the rivulets came together and separated again on the frosted glass of the door. 

Tonight he dressed and went downstairs to dinner, but this time did not eat. When the doctor  asked him why he wouldn’t touch his food, he answered, “because I need to figure out how you’re drugging me. And because if I fast, I’ll get better results from scrying.”

Erik looked mildly perturbed rather than surprised. He set down his fork and took a sip of his white wine. “Is that so?”

“If I’m fasted, and clear headed, I can probably find her. You really haven’t been doing yourself any favors keeping me fucked up like that.”

“Mind your tongue at my table, child.”

Carlo took a sip of ice water. He was angry, and the little reprimand didn’t sting as much as it would otherwise. “If you compared notes with Martin Olsen, you’d have known that weeks ago. Or if you’d asked me before doping me up so bad I couldn’t remember where I was.”

“I thought I was doing you a favor.” Erik remained polite and composed, but Carlo could tell by now when there was a stiffness in his shoulders, irritation in his jaw. “I didn’t realize how painful your ability is for you to use. My goal was simply to keep you out of pain.”

Your goal was to incapacitate me. “I’ll be fine. I need to fast for a day or two, and then I’ll look for Clara. I don’t think she wants to be spied on. But I don’t really care at this point. If I find her, will you still hold up your end of the deal?”

Erik resumed eating, not bothered enough by Carlo’s antics to miss enjoying a meal. “Of course. I gave you my word.”

Carlo took another sip of water. His stomach growled. Good, he thought. Yes. 

[munsonsreputation]

Soon You'll Get Better

Chapter One: Doctor's-Office-Lighting

↢ prologue | series masterlist | chapter two ↣

summary: revelations of max's mental and emotional health come to light when you and steve take her to a check-up. determined to do whatever you can to help her, you and steve work on getting her to open up about her life. max comes to realize that the support is genuine and that she isn't alone, whether if it's about her state of mind or relationship.

word count: [12.2k] kinda proof-read

: ̗̀➛ pairings: big-brother!steve x max & big-sister!reader x max

: ̗̀➛ romantic pairing: steve harrington x fem-college-student!reader

: ̗̀➛ warnings: talks about mental and emotional health, billy's death, self isolation, panic attack, crying, talks about attempted sewerslide (max almost says it, but steve stops her), mentions of breakups, overall a lot of fluff despite the angst.

With the sun beaming down at Hawkins and the skin tickling breeze passing by, it would’ve seemed as though nothing bad had ever happened in this small town, but that would be far from the truth.

Max hadn’t felt the warm enveloping blanket of the sun and the gust of wind against her skin in days. Instead, she spent the dwindling hours of summer locked in the trailer, watching the same VHS tape on repeat like background noise while she paced back and forth cleaning up the pile of messes and lost in her own thoughts.

The only time the depths of misery in her mind paused was when the telephone rang. She would stare at, contemplating on answering, but just being too drained to even reach it or utter a single world. Her best friend El, leaving countless of voicemails asking when she would like to hangout next or simply if she was ok.

She didn’t like worrying El. It wasn’t her fault that she was feeling like this. At the end of the day, it was no one’s fault. But shutting people out just seemed to be her default way of dealing with everything, especially something like this.

“Max, honey,” A few more knocks tapped on her door. For once her mother was home, but spent the day figuring out payments with the bank and handling a bunch of adult shit that she was too far to care about.

The young girl sighed, kicking off her blankets, and staring up at the ceiling. One. Two. Three seconds before she mustered the energy to get up and open the door. “What’s up?”

Her mom looked over behind her shoulder, then back at her daughter, “Your friend El is here. She’s worried about you.”

Max brushed past her mom, heading straight down the narrow hallway of the trailer until she saw her best friend along with Steve and you, his girlfriend, on either side of her.

“Hey—” She couldn’t even get the whole greeting out before El had stepped forward and bound her arms securely around her best friend, a sigh of happiness leaving her mouth.

Slowly, Max hugged her back, not knowing that El was this concerned about her and if she had known that her best friend was going to show up unannounced like this, she would have picked up the last seven calls she had missed.

“Why haven’t you picked up my calls?” El wondered, pulling away and observing the features on Max’s face that seemed to have dulled.

The apparent bags under her eyes, a tell-tale sign that Max had not been getting enough sleep and was fatigued.

“Busy doing chores, I’m sorry, El.” Max felt terrible, she didn’t mean to treat her friend like this, let alone make her worry so much, but El just gave her a reassuring smile and shook her head mouthing, “It’s ok.”

“Did you ask them to drive you here?” She looked at you and Steve as you two nodded, him stepping forward first to give her a hug.

Max didn’t share many hugs with Steve, but today she granted him one knowing he took the time out of his day to drive here, “She was worried, which then made us worry, so we wanted to come here to make sure you were alright.”

When he pulled away, he took notice of the way Max forced a laugh just as quickly as it died in her throat when you stepped forward and hugged her strongly.

“Are you doing ok, sweetheart?” You inquired softly against her hair, and she only replied with a “yes,” before you had nodded and pulled away, not wanting to poke and prode.

It wasn’t long before her mother came back into view, resting a hand on Max’s shoulder and smiling at you three. You could tell she was worn out, the same way Max was. But the only difference was that her mother was good at trying to hide it. Meanwhile Max tried to, but the discomfort on her face said it all.

“I actually wanted to ask a favor from you two if that’s ok?”

Max glanced behind at her mom, raising a brow, but she squeezed her shoulder warmly, “Max, why don’t you invite El in for a little bit? I just need a word with these two, ok?”

She wanted to ask why, but not wanting to make the situation sticky, she grabbed onto El’s hand and led her inside of the trailer and towards her room where they could catch up in private.

Her mom stepped outside, closing the door behind her and smiling at you two, “I just hope this isn’t too much to ask, but, Max actually has a check up tomorrow morning, but I can’t take her because I’ll be working.”

You and Steve’s eyes caught the way her fingers fidgeted against one another, a distinct perception of stress and anxiety, just because of her asking for the favor.

“We could totally take her!” You chirped, taking away the embarrassment she had felt for asking such a favor from some teens.

Steve nodded, wrapping his arms over your shoulder and pulling your side into him, “Yeah, the two of us are both off, so it should be no problem.”

Her mom shifted eye contact between you both, “Are you sure it ok? The appointment is at nine, but I could reschedule it if that’s too early.”

You shook your head, looking over at Steve with a smile, “We’re usually up before then, so nine is perfect.”

When you looked back at her, she was more than relieved, placing a hand over her heart gratefully.

“Thank you! I would send Max there herself, but they need someone over eighteen to be with her in case, and I know she really trusts you two the most.”

Max wasn’t always particularly close to you and Steve, but as she had caught more rides from you both, she had warmed up to you two out of all the older teens.

“We’d be happy to take her. Do you have the address by any chance?” Steve sought before Max’s mom nodded, gesturing back inside the trailer.

“I’ll go write it down and I’ll be back out.”

You watched as she hurried back inside, leaving you and Steve there waiting.

“Maybe we could stop by a little cafe and get her some breakfast before we pick her up?” You suggested, leaning your head on his shoulder.

He kissed the top of your head first, “I’ll need a coffee. Do we really look like we’re the type of people to be up by nine in the morning?” Steve half joked with a short laugh.

You snorted, nudging him softly. “I didn’t want to make her feel bad…if this is the least we can do to help them, we can sacrifice a few hours of sleep.”

“I know, I know, you’re right.” He apologized, resting his chin on top of your head while they waited around for a couple of minutes before her mom and the two girls had come emerging from the door.

You reached for the small piece of paper with the scribbling of the address written on it with a faded blue ink that was still readable. Steve took it from you when you passed it to him, placing it in his jean pocket and creating a mental note to not forget it was there.

“Do you think I can stay for dinner?” El requested kindly towards you two, who were just offered to stay a little longer by Max’s mom.

Steve hummed, checking the time on his watch, but sadly shaking his head when he saw the time, “Sorry, El, we promised Hop we’d have you home by five remember?”

She pouted nevertheless, but smiled when Max hugged her and told her that it was ok.

“Maybe tomorrow you can head over to Will and El’s after your appointment?” Her mom suggested, “But you’ll have to ask her and Steve for a ride since they’re taking you tomorrow.”

The redhead grumbled, pulling away from her friend and looking at her mom begrudgingly, “Can’t we reschedule?”

Her mom shook her head, taking a deep breath. “You’ll need to go, Maxine. My insurance plan finally is in effect and it’s covering all our medical expenses, thank god.”

“Fine.” She puffed, crossing her arms over her chest a clear sign that she did in fact not want to step foot into any doctor’s office whatsoever.

“C’mon, hon, let’s get you back home before your dad freaks.” You smiled delicately, reaching a hand out for El who took it, and stood by your side.

Steve pointed at Max, a small smile on his face, “We’ll see you tomorrow morning, alright?”

Max just nodded, forcing a smile as she watched the three of you get into the car with El in the backseat, waving goodbye to her best friend as they drove off into the late afternoon.

“Maxine, I know you’re upset.” Her mother spoke apologetically, resting a hand on the small of her daughter’s back, guiding her back into their home.

She moved away from her mother’s hand, settling onto the couch to bring her knees up to her chest, “I just don’t understand why you can’t take me? Can’t you just go to work late?” she argued.

Her mom sighed heavily, grabbing dishes from the small cabinet and placing them down on the even smaller corner table of the trailer, “Honey, we’ve been through this a million times.”

Max rolled her eyes, the script she had memorized time and time again flowing out of her mouth before her mom had anytime to beat her to it, “Going in late means missing hours which means less money, which means no food, no electricity, no money, no rent, no home.”

Her mother took a deep breath in and out, approaching Max and kneeling at her side. “I’m sorry, Max. You know I have to do this for you.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s whatever.” Max brushed off, resting a heavy head on her kneecaps with an unsatisfied frown.

With the windows rolled down, El relaxed in the soft leather seats of Steve’s BMW. The only sounds were the soft hum of the icy cold air conditioning cooling the hot air and whatever that was on the radio playing faintly.

“You ok back there?” Steve said, looking into the rear-view mirror catching the sight of the young girl who wrenched her shoulders.

You turned back and gave her a one over. The pout was still on her face and now her arms crossed like Max had hers a few minutes ago, “What’s the matter, hon?”

“Max….she is sad.” She told you two obviously.

Steve pursed his lips, glancing quickly behind at her, “Did she tell you that?”

She shook her head, but spoke, “I know she is. When I asked if she was ok, she didn’t answer.”

“I’m sure she just wants some time to herself,” you assured her. “Her and her mom are still trying to adjust to life without Billy and his dad around.”

It had been a little over a year since the battle at Star Court where Billy had sacrificed himself to the mind-flayer in order to save Eleven’s life. You and Steve could still recall the memory vividly. How you two watched from the second story of the mall where you two had been throwing fireworks alongside Lucas and Max in order to deter the monster.

Yet it all happened so quickly, Billy putting himself in between El and the mind-flayer, before getting brutally wounded by the creature and the blood oozing through his white wife-beater and splattering in the air.

Max couldn’t believe her eyes, dashing down the stalled escalator stairs and dropping to her knees beside her slain brother. His eyes blanking out and only a few words escaping his mouth before he had died. She was in shambles, shaking him, screaming at him to wake up, but he had accepted his fate.

You and Steve had rushed down the same steps, nearing the two girls who had been weeping. El had pulled Max into arms, letting her cry there, and shielding her eyes from her brother who was bleeding out in front of them.

“I’ve got Max.” Steve declared, running up to the girls and guiding Max out of Eleven’s hold and into his arms where he led her outside of the mall.

El had immediately sprung to you, crying into your shoulder as you walked the two of you behind Steve and Max as the sirens resounded through the air.

Ambulances, firetrucks, and military vehicles overflowed the mall parking lot as they all hastily assessed the well-beings of the children first.

Hopper had found El in the back of an ambulance, the scar on her forehead being dealt with before he embraced her in a tight hug.

Nancy wrapped a blanket across the shoulders of her brother Mike, rubbing her hands and down his shoulders to create warmth.

Lucas and Erica ran to their parents as soon as they saw them stopped at the bright yellow caution tape, baring them off from seeing their kids.

She watched as everyone reunited with their family while she had no one waiting for her. But you and Steve, stuck by her side in the back of the ambulance, letting her rest her head on Steve’s shoulder while you soothed her.

Steve shook his head at the horrible remembrance, thankful that the worst was over and finally everyone in Hawkins could live in peace away from all that supernatural shit. He had you and his friends, something he was grateful for, but a part of him still felt the heaviness of it all, especially for the young girl Max who never seemed to fully recover from the year ago attack.

“I’ll tell you what,” Steve started, catching El’s eyes in the rearview again, “If she’s up for it, we’ll swing by tomorrow and take you guys to the arcade.”

El erupted at that, smiling broadly with an excited nod which made you laugh, hopeful that Max would feel a little better and would want to have some fun with her best friend that missed her greatly.

The next morning, Max was out of bed earlier than usual not wanting you two to wait around for her if you two were to show up earlier. She had gotten dressed in her usual baggy jeans, a stripped t-shirt and Billy’s oversized jean jacket to go over it.

A note hanging on the refrigerator read, “Have a good day, Max…Mom loves you, always!” She left it hanging there, switching on the TV while she waited.

When a soft knock followed by her name, came against the door, she knew you two had arrived. The clock on the stove read 7:15 just a few minutes early. She promptly grabbed her keys and her walkman, hooking it onto her jeans and opening the door.

“Morning sunshine.” You radiated against the morning sunlight, holding out a small cup of hot cocoa and a breakfast sandwich for her.

She actually smiled a little, locking the door before taking the items from you as you both walked the short distance to the car where Steve had been waiting in the driver’s seat.

“Hey Max, the cocoa good?” Steve turned, watching the young girl open the door as she took a sip of her drink.

She hummed warmly, and you shut her door before getting into the passenger, “I told him you were more of a latte type but he supposes that sixteen-year-olds shouldn’t be drinking coffee.”

Steve rolled his eyes, picking up his now empty cup of black coffee, and shaking it side to side, “Kids shouldn’t be drinking this shit.”

“So you’re calling yourself old?” Max proposed, opening up her bacon, egg, and cheese taking a bite.

“I think he is.” You tormented, jabbing at Steve’s side while he fussed and Max snorted quietly at the scene.

You and Steve looked so happy—not only as a couple, but just as humans.

For the most part, you all had gone through the same things last summer—except you and Steve were locked in the Russian base while Max and the others dealt with the mind-flayer stuff. Nevertheless, the anguish and memories of what had happened all remained the same throughout their group of friends, yet everyone else seemed to get over the hump of what happened.

Everyone except her.

She wanted to be happy again. Happy with herself. With her friends. With her boyfriend. With life. But everything just seemed as though it wouldn’t pass.

The sadness, the guilt, the nightmares would never be something she would be able to escape.

As you drove to the doctor’s office, you tried to make small talk with Max, asking her about what she had been up to lately. She gave short, one-word answers, and you could tell that she was still feeling down just like yesterday. Steve remembered what El had told them about Max being unhappy and decided to try to see if he could get her to open up.

“Max, is everything okay?” Steve finally asked, breaking the silence that passed after a couple of minutes.

Max shrugged, staring out the window of passing buildings and slower cars, “Just tired, I guess.”

You exchanged a worried peek with Steve, but didn’t push her to talk. It would only make her more uncomfortable and irritable, something you both wanted to avoid.

The doctor’s office was a small clinic a little further into town, nevertheless you three were on time, avoiding the morning bustle of traffic on this Friday. Steve greeted the woman at the front desk, checking Max in while she helped you fill out the necessary forms.

“Maxine Mayfield?” A nurse called out as she walked into the waiting room.

You patted Max on the shoulder, giving her an encouraging smile. “Just call out if you need us, ok?”

“I will.” She assured you, following the nurse into the exam room.

The appointment wasn’t anything special, just a yearly exam to make sure everything was going smoothly with Max’s health. They checked her ears, eyes, reflexes, and asked her a few questions.

“One last thing,” the nurse smiled, putting down her stethoscope and grabbing the clipboard and pen resting on the counter, “This is just a short questionnaire I need you to fill out. I’ll leave the room and give you a few minutes ok?”

Max nodded, grabbing the clip board and begun filling out the form. Reading the questions in her head and thinking for a few seconds before appropriately determine where she fell in each of the boxes. After ten minutes, the nurse came back, collecting the form and allowing her to head back into the waiting room while the doctor reviewed the report.

Steve sat up when he saw her emerge from the doors. He recognized the jean jacket to be Billy’s, practically too big and swallowing Max up whole. “How was it?”

Her pointer and middle finger gestured to her eyes then back at him, “I still have 20/20 vision and impeccable hearing.”

“That’s what we like to hear.” You grinned, patting a chair between you and Steve so she could sit awhile until she’d be seen by the doctors and discharged.

The waiting room was quiet. Just the small talk of the receptionists and replay of I Love Lucy playing through the TV filled the comfy space. You conversed with her for a short while, talking about the Kate Bush tape she had in her walkman. She let you have a listen to her favorite track, “Running Up That Hill,” telling you about the meaning of the song before her name was called, prompting you to take off the headphones.

“Guardians of Maxine Mayfield?” The doctor wore the typical white coat with a stethoscope cloaked over her neck and a clipboard in hand with Max’s files.

“Here.” Steve stood up, and the doctor smiled, nodding her head gesturing for you and Max to come along into her office.

“Are you her brother?” She called for, holding the door open to a small room.

Steve looked at Max unsure of how she wanted him to answer that, and the redhead shrugged, “Something like that.”

The doctor chuckled, offering you three a seat in front of her desk. Max sat in the middle with you and Steve on either side of her.

She glanced through the documents once more, and nodded to herself before looking at you two, “Everything seems to be looking good with her physical health. She did great on the vision exam and even better on the hearing test.”

Max smirked, nudging both you and Steve with her elbow. “Told you so.”

The doctor looked over the last page of the clipboard, the questionnaire that Max had filled out moments ago, all indicating worry, “But we do have an area of concern when it comes to her mental and emotional wellbeing.”

Max could feel the space suddenly become thicker, all eyes shifting towards her and the painful quietness lingering as you all expected her to say something, but she didn’t. She didn’t want to admit that there was something obviously going on in her life that she had been hiding, but now was eating her alive.

Steve coughed, tearing his eyes away from a very uncomfortable Max and looking at the professional, “W-what’s the matter?”

She pulled off one of the pages, and slid it towards him, “On a scale of zero to five, five being everyday, have you been feeling down, depressed, irritable or hopeless? She checked off five.”

You gulped, looking at Max who now seemed to be burying her head in her shoulder, looking towards the door closest to Steve.

“Max, do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head, her shoulders sulking deeper, “It’s nothing. Everyone feels like that sometimes. It passes. Normal teenage shit.”

“Hey,” Steve pointed, shaking his head at the explicative, “language.”

The doctor shook her head, understandingly, “No, it’s okay. Max, these feelings your having isn’t normal. I know it may seem like it, but if you’re constantly feeling bad about yourself everyday, then it may be a bigger issue.”

She reached for a pamphlet in her desk drawer, gliding it towards Max who finally peered at it. A girl crying in bed on the front page, with some sort of statistic in bold font above.

“Most teenage girls your age are more likely to develop depression and anxiety, especially if there are contributing factors like bullying, isolation, a rocky home life—”

Max snapped her head, suddently triggered and fed up with the conversation, “Nothing is wrong with me!”

Your eyes enlarged, attempting to soothe her with a touch of your hand on hers, “Max, hey, c’mon—”

She recoiled, retreating from your hand, “No!” she shouted, standing up, directing her anger towards the doctor in front of her who didn’t take the outburst personally, knowing there had to be an underlying issue.

“You don’t know what I’m feeling. You don’t know my life. You don’t know a damn thing about me or my family.”

With that, her feet thudded against the floors, tearing the doctor’s office door open and hurling it shut. She didn’t care about the stares she got from the other patients in the waiting room and the receptionists calling out for her—she wanted one thing and it was to get the hell out of that place.

You and Steve had never witnessed a frenzy like this from Max. It was out of character for her to take help defensively. She obviously had her guard up for a reason, but you two had no clue what it was about.

Steve only glanced at you once, before he was following behind her. “I’ll check on her.” You nodded, remaining in your seat as you shot the doctor an apologetic look that she lifted.

“I want Max to know that I’m here to help, not to judge her. Her answers to the questionnaire is extremely concerning. Do you maybe have any clue as to what might be causing these feelings?” She asked you and your thoughts for a moment, shrugging your shoulders.

“I mean,” you gulped, “s-she lost her brother over a year ago, but she hasn’t really opened up about it too much to know.”

The doctor nodded, reaching for another pamphlet and passing it to you, “That could be it. Especially for girls her age, it can be hard to talk about what they’re feeling. All of these emotions she’s been dealing with could be starting to build up and bubble over.”

You took a deep breath, nodding, trying to process what had just happened and what were the next steps to helping Max. Telling her mom would probably make her more upset, yet you didn’t know if it was right for you and Steve to keep it a secret.

Steve raced out the clinic doors before it could close shut and Max was even faster darting towards his car, tugging on the door to try to hide away in the backseat, as if she wasn’t going home with either of them seeing her breakdown.

“Max! Stop!” Steve pursued, clutching her shoulder tenderly, to try to get her to look back at him.

Through the reflection of the glass window he could see her scrunched face, reddening cheeks with tears pushing past the brink of her eyelids where they tumbled down. Her chest heaved up and down heavily as her fingertips tightened around the door handle, still trying to tug it open.

“O-open the door, Steve.” She choked, pushing her shoulders back to try to get his touch off of her, which he complied with, dropping his hands from her shoulder, but never opening the car doors.

He sighed, moving beside her, stooping down a bit to look at her.

“I’m not opening the door until you talk.”

She shook her head, fingers wiping her cheeks when she finally met his eyes that were full of concern, “T-talk about what! How f-fucked up my life is? Is that what you wanna hear?”

Steve swallowed thickly, shaking his head with immediate regret. That wasn’t what he wanted. For her to think he pitied her or wanted to force her to open up. He just wanted to be let in, to know why she was feeling like this and why she hadn’t asked for help sooner.

Her eyes kept on him, the tears never stopping their journey down her cheeks. Her jaw trembling as she started to speak once more.

“God, Steve, I mean, isn’t it obvious that my life is total s-shit? I don’t need a doctor to tell me that I’m fucking sad! I already know that! She doesn’t think that I already know that I’ve contemplated to—”

He didn’t let her finish her sentence, “Hey, hey, c’mon,” smoothly guiding her head to his chest where she ultimately ceased talking and open mouth sobs left her instead. She let herself fall into Steve’s hold, her finger tips falling from the car door and instead clinging around Steve like an anchor, which would be the only thing to keep her from floating away.

Her sobs grew louder by the second, every single suppressed emotion she had been bottling up inside of her finally overflowing into tears that now drenched Steve’s polo. But Steve didn’t mind at all, holding her tighter as he closed his eyes tightly and begun whispering soft words of reassurance to her.

As you tightly held onto the pamphlets the doctor had given you; you pushed open the doors of the clinic, instantly met with the scene of Max in Steve’s arms. Your heart sank, quickening the pace of your footsteps as you shoved the papers into the back pocket of your jeans.

When Steve had finally opened his eyes, with his arms still engulfed around the young girl he held, he saw you, face full of concern as he mouthed, “she’s not ok.”

You winced, nodding your head, still calmly approaching as you placed a loving hand on her shoulder. “Hey, I’m here.”

She slowly retracted her face from Steve’s chest to look at you. Her features were twisted in heartache—brows furrowed and the tears streaming down her face, leaving a trail of wetness in their wake. Her lips quivered as she tried to catch her breath to speak to you, yet she couldn’t.

Instead, she unwrapped herself from Steve, hurrying into your arms where you immediately wrapped your arms around her securely.

“Shhh, I’m right here, sweetheart. It’s gonna be ok, ok?”

You held her close, clinging to her shaking body with each sob she took, rubbing her back gently and offering her the comfort she desperately needed. Steve watched the scene unfold, his own eyes filled with tears and without hesitation, he moved closer to both of you, wrapping his arms around you and Max.

Together, the three of you stood there in silence, holding onto each other as if your lives depended on it. Max continued to cry, but her sobs grew weaker as the moments passed. The only sounds in the car were the occasional sniffle or hiccup as she worked to regain control of her emotions.

When she finally did begin to pull back, Steve immediately let go, as did you, watching her concerningly as she mopped her tears with the back of her hand as she asked, “can we g-go home?”

“Of course.” Steve nodded firmly, finally opening the back door where he let her get in first.

You quickly got into the passenger seat, rummaging through the glove box where extra napkins were kept, and you passed her a few to dry her tears with and she let out a quiet, “thank you.”

The drive home from the doctor’s office was subdued, the only sounds in the car the soft hum of the engine and Max’s occasional sniffle. You and Steve exchanged worried glances, both of you unsure of how to help Max in her current state, but still determined to, nevertheless.

When you three finally pulled into the trailer park, you’d fully expected for Max to wave her goodbye and let that be the end, but instead she invited you inside.

The trailer was clean and tidy, not a single pile of mess could be found in the space, but it was mostly because Max had spent all her days in here trying to use up her time in any way shape or form that didn’t deal with facing anyone.

“Do you want me to make you some lunch?” You offered politely, shrugging off your jacket and slinging it over one of the kitchen chairs.

Max went over to the small sofa into the middle of the living room, shrugging her shoulders as she pulled Billy’s jean jacket over her body like a blanket.

“There’s some crackers and peanut butter in the pantry. That’ll be ok for me.” She said, and you nodded, grabbing a plate and butter knife from the dish rack and heading for the pantry.

Steve sat on the other side of Max, still placid as he wanted to wait for you before talking to Max about the events that just unfolded. After a few minutes, you returned with a plate of crackers and a small dish of peanut butter on the side. You offered it to Max, and she happily took it, beginning to munch down on the snack.

You looked at Steve, his eyes silently telling you whether it was ok for him to speak about everything and you nodded lightly, just enough for him to see.

“Max, uh, do you wanna maybe talk about how you’ve been feeling?” He proposed, resting his elbows on his knees, watching her chew her last bites before she swallowed and shrugged.

She was hesitant to open up. She had never really told anyone at all about how she was really feeling inside. It wasn’t something that she normally talked about…her feelings that is. She thought it was just better to suppress everything, but today was the breaking point and she knew that it was time.

“Sometimes, I feel so lonely,” Max expressed, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know I have you guys a-and my friends, but sometimes it feels like nobody understands what I’m going through.”

The pain she felt. The loss. The sadness. The guilt. That’s what nobody knew she was going through.

Steve reached over and placed a comforting hand on Max’s shoulder. “We may not know exactly what you’re feeling, Max, but we’re here for you. Always.”

Max nodded, her eyes misting over with tears as she felt comfortable to say a little more. “It’s just that...I’ve been feeling so guilty lately,” she continued, her voice trembling. “About Billy’s death. Like it’s my fault somehow.”

Her eyes finally turned to yours, first, ocean blue orbs looked like a flood of waves crashing with the tears beginning to form.

Then her head turned to Steve, blinking where the salty tears leaked again, “I-I just keep picturing his face. The…the blood. E-everything comes back to me and I can’t escape it.”

The words poured out of her in a rush while you and Steve listened attentively. Distress coating both of your gazes as you watched Max’s tears begin to pour quicker, her voice nearly breaking, and her hands shaking as she went on.

“M-maybe if he was here, then I wouldn’t feel this way, but…but I know that I can’t do anything. And I hate it! I hate that I can’t do a-anything about it!”

Steve could see the panic rising in Max’s eyes, and you both knew what was coming. Sure enough, a moment later, Max let out a strangled sob and clutched at her chest, her breathing ragged.

And so Steve quickly got up, stretching towards the kitchen for a glass of cold water while you scooched closer to Max, holding her hands in your palms and soothing your thumbs over her shaky knuckles.

“Hey, take a deep breath for me, Max,” You guided, breathing along with her as she kept her eyes on you and followed your directions.

In and out. Breathe. In and out. Breathe.

The cold condensation from the glass cup dripped on top of your hands where Steve was holding the glass above. Max instantly reached for the cup, gradually gulping down the ice cold water every so often as she continued the breathing routines.

Steve remained standing in front of you two, ready to spring into action if Max needed to be rushed to the hospital or anything like that, but thankfully she began to calm down, handing the cup back to Steve once she had finished it.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered shaking her head, annoyed at herself for not having any control over her emotions that she had to act out like that, “I didn’t mean to freak out like that.”

You and Steve both shook your heads, him moving to take his place back on the couch beside her, “Don’t apologize, Max…sometimes it happens. Nothing wrong with that.”

You nodded in agreement, slinging one of your arms across her shoulder while the other rested on her knee, “We’re here for you, alright? You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Max didn’t know how to react. She wasn’t used to this level of sympathy, or at least not since she was a younger child. Nowadays, her mother didn’t have much time to comfort her like she used to. Instead, she settled for simple phrases like, “It’s just in your head Maxine,” or “You’re just having one of those days, it’ll get better.”

A part of her, missed the comforting talks and hugs that she and her mom used to share, but she knew that it was a part of growing up and getting older.

She wasn’t expecting to be coddled all her life, but it was nice having you and Steve around to make her feel assured. To know that you both were actually here for her and trying your best to understand where she was coming from and all of her feelings rather than brushing it off.

“Thanks for being here.” Max spoke gratefully, reaching either of her hands out around both of your shoulders and pulling you in for a squeeze.

Steve let out a small puff of relieved air from his mouth along with a, “Yep,” while you leaned in and hugged her closer, kissing her temple before pulling away.

“Why don’t we go to the arcade?” Steve suggested, knowing that it would be a good opportunity to get some of the heavier things off of Max’s mind especially after the eventful morning you all had.

You nodded, nudging the young girl slightly. “I’m sure El would like to hang out, right?”

She sniffled, nodding her head as she sat back against the cushions and your arm, “Yeah, she did tell me she misses me a lot…I miss her too.”

The three of you spent a few more minutes on the couch, just sitting and talking about what games she wanted to play at the arcade after not being there for a couple of days. After Max finally settled completely, she called El and invited her to the arcade, even Will, but he was busy working on a new painting but offered to come next time around.

The car was now filled with music as the four of you drove to the arcade. Steve seemed to sneak more glances at the backseat through the rear-view mirror. A smile on his face as he saw Max loosening up with the presence of her best friend while they softly sung to the radio and talked amongst themselves.

Once you finally arrived at the arcade, Max seemed to feel a lot better already, laughing and screeching excitedly as she and El played their favorite games while you and Steve stood off to the side in order to give them some space.

“Max looks like she’s having fun.” You nudged Steve playfully, watching the way his face lit up, knowing his idea was so far working.

He grinned sneaking his arms around your waist to pull you closer.

“She deserves to have some fun. She’s been through a lot today…and god knows for how long.” he sighed sadly, resting his head on top of yours.

You understood how Steve felt—if only you two had known what was going on with Max sooner, maybe then you’d both would be able to help her earlier. Yet you knew there was no use in regretting the past but just hopeful for what was to come.

“C’mon, I think I want that pink unicorn.” You dragged him towards the claw machine on the other side of the arcade, still in view of the girls to keep an eye on them.

Max and El continued to compete the high score on Pac-Mac while you and Steve took turns at the claw machine trying to win the fluffy bright pink plush you wanted. After a many tries, Steve was successful, happily presenting you with it and you thanked him with a kiss.

“I think we have a winner!” Steve whistled, strolling behind Max and El with two other plushes in his hand that he had won after a few more attempts.

They turned around, smiling as they each reached for one. El picked the baby elephant and Max got the koala bear. Each of them satisfied with their gifts as they laughed and thanked Steve with smiles.

“We gotta get you girls home.” He announced, looking at his watch for the time, followed by some whines that were quickly eased away by you.

“In a few days we can give you two a ride here again, alright? Steve has work tomorrow and y’know how he is about his sleep.” You smirked, squeezing Steve’s cheeks as he groaned but leaned back into you.

“Oh, we know! Remember that time you fell asleep, and we drew a mustache on you?” El piqued enthusiastically, causing you and Max to laugh out loud.

Steve glared, reminiscing of how he volunteered to host movie night at his place for the kids only for them to grab the markers and begin doodling all over his face. He only realized it the next morning when you popped in with breakfast and couldn’t stop laughing when he greeted you at the door.

“Yeah, yeah, c’mon you twerps.”

El was the first one to get dropped off, already wistful about having to leave her best friend, yet excited for the upcoming plans to come. As you and Steve drove back to the trailer park, Max sat quietly in the backseat, fiddling with her stuffed animal and lost in her thoughts.

Today felt like one of the most relaxing days she had in a long time, despite how the morning had started off. It was nice being able to be consoled and not having to feel like her feelings were such a bad thing. She wanted this feeling to last, but she knew today would eventually come to an end.

When Steve finally pulled up in front of her trailer, her mom’s car was already parked in the grassy space, indicating she was home from a long day of work.

He turned around to face her, watching her unbuckle her seatbelt, “We had a great time, Max.”

Max gave him a smile in return, wiggling the plush he had won her today, “Thanks for taking me…it means a lot.” she said quietly.

“Of course, sweetheart,” you said kindly, maneuvering in your chair to face her as well, “We’re always here for you.”

For her. Always there for her. You two.

The words itself were like a warm embrace to Max’s cold soul that filled her with comfort and security. Just like the hug that you three shared earlier in the day in the doctor’s office parking lot. You two had no idea how much that hug meant to her. How nice and safe it was to feel like she was protected, to feel like she was heard and listened to instead of interrogated and shunned.

Max nodded, her eyes filling with tears. “I know,” she said, her voice breaking. “And I appreciate it so much. Especially with everything that’s been going on lately.”

You and Steve exchanged another set of concerned looks that was familiar from this morning, but you two knew you wanted to do everything you could to support Max through what she was going through.

“Max, we’re here for you no matter what,” Steve said firmly. “You can call us anytime if you need to talk or help with anything, alright?”

Max nodded, sniffling as she wiped her tears away, pushing a smile onto her face, “Thank you,” she said softly. “And thank you for taking me to my appointment. It means a lot.”

Steve smiled reassuringly. “Of course, Max. We’re happy to help.”

As she gathered the rest of her belonging, ready to exit the car and call it a day, she turned back to you and Steve, “Can we do this again soon?” she asked hopefully, her voice filled with need. “I had a lot of fun today.”

You and Steve grinned, nodding your heads as Steve reached out to ruffle her hair, making her laugh freely.

“Absolutely, I’ll give you a call tomorrow and let you know when Steve is off next.” You told her, and she beamed with excitement as she got of the car.

“Thanks…I’ll see you guys soon!” she said, closing the door behind her as she got out.

She waited there to watch you both drive off, waving goodbye as you and Steve watched her in the rearview until she was out of sight into the afternoon sunset.

The car ride was quiet, the both of you not wanting to spark up the conversation around Max’s mental health. You two would never truly be able to understand what she was going through, but there seemed to be a silent agreement that the both of you were going to be there for Max every step of the way.

It wasn’t the fact that Steve didn’t like working at Family Video—He got to work with one of his best friends, Robin. He got first dibs on new tapes for date night. He didn’t have to do much beside stock shelves, count inventory, and work the register.

But the pay wasn’t much, and the days were slow…sometimes too slow, like today.

Barely any new customers came in to rent some tapes and the old ones had yet to return their way over due tapes, something Robin would take care of with a phone call. He just needed to stick around for a few more weeks until he’d hopefully get promoted now that Keith was leaving his position as manager and he would get a little more money.

The money, of course, was going to a good cause: getting to move in with you and helping you with rent.

Though you never asked Steve or made him promise to help you with rent once you got your own apartment after graduation, but he just wanted to be considerate. He knew it wasn’t easy being a college student and adding on working a part-time job, so he wanted to do all he could to help you out if he was going to move in with you.

“Harrington!” Steve exhaled thickly, the chime of the front doors ringing followed by the voices of the teenage boys who loved badgering him on the job.

He turned around, being greeted by Dustin, Will, Lucas, and Mike, “Hey shitheads.” He joked, followed by a snort that came from Robin in the aisle over.

Mike and Will ignored the repartee, heading off into the horror section to see what new tapes were available, while the other two boys followed Steve as he headed towards the front desk to check off some of the inventory lists.

“You took Max and El to the arcade yesterday?” Dustin queried, watching Steve nod as he worked the pen.

He glanced up at the boy and shrugged, “They wanted to spend some girl time together…are you jealous you weren’t invited?”

Dustin rolled his eyes, shaking his head, “Never, it’s just that Eddie said he saw you and your girlfriend pick up Max early in the morning.”

Eddie Munson lived right across from Max’s trailer with his uncle Wayne. The two were never particularly close, but after Dustin started hanging around the dude and joined his DnD club, it was kinda inevitable that they’d become somewhat friends through the kid.

“Yeah,” Steve bowed his head, placing down the clipboard and resting his elbow on the desk, “We had to take Max to take care of a few things…have you spoken to her recently?”

He looked towards Lucas, her boyfriend, hoping to hear that Max was doing better, but instead, the young boy seemed to tense up at the question, shuffling from foot to foot.

“W-we actually broke up a few weeks ago and I haven’t heard from or seen her since. I think she’s avoiding me.” Lucas confessed quietly as Steve’s eyes widened at the announcement.

Dustin elbowed Lucas pointedly. “Dude, you didn’t tell him!?”

For a while, everyone knew about Max and Lucas’ split. Everyone except for you and Steve who were too busy to be probing into the lives of the kids they occasionally babysat. But in hindsight, it seemed to all make sense. Steve hadn’t seen the whole group of kids together at once for a while—Max was always missing. And Max seemed to only hang out with two other people El and sometimes Will.

Lucas sighed, shaking his head, “No! It’s embarrassing alright…I don’t even know what I did wrong. She just kinda dropped the bomb on me out of nowhere. I-I tried calling, but she never picks up.”

Steve’s heart sank, the words coming from Lucas reminding him of how El had phoned him the other day to tell him how concerned she was that Max wasn’t returning any of her calls for a while.

He knew that it might have something to do with what was going on with her emotional and mental wellbeing, but the breakup wasn’t the main thing. Max was strong and independent even before she and Lucas began dating. Steve knew that Max didn’t need a boyfriend to survive, but he had a feeling that maybe just maybe her emotions had pushed her to break it off with Lucas so suddenly and that was concerning enough for him to excuse himself into the break room to use the phone in there for more privacy.

The phone rung a few times before you finally picked up, “Hey, baby,” Steve said breathlessly when you answered.

“Stevie! How’s work?” You requested, closing the textbook you were studying and giving your boyfriend your undivided attention for a few minutes.

“Slow as per usual. The boys actually dropped in.” He told you, and you hummed, guessing they were probably causing some trouble that Steve needed to get away from.

“Yeah? Have they been poking fun at your vest?”

He chuckled, looking down at the pin you got made that said, “Best Salesmen” followed by his name, “No, no, actually it’s about Max.”

You furrowed your brows, sitting up in your desk chair as you listened more for the information that Steve was hurling at you.

“I asked Lucas how Max was doing, but he said that she broke it off with him a few weeks ago and he hasn’t been returning any of her calls. Completely out of nowhere.”

“Shit,” you moaned, rubbing your temples as he let out an agreement on the other side of the line.

“Right. And…I don’t know. I know she doesn’t need Lucas, per se. I mean she’s smart, and witty, and cool, but—but, maybe, do you think it has anything to do with what the doctor said?” He proposed, thinking back to the conversation in the doctor’s office.

You thought to yourself, nodding your head and responding, “Possibly, I mean, the doctor did say that isolation is a big thing that she could be doing to avoid talking about her feelings. M-maybe she broke up with Lucas because she felt bad about her feelings and didn’t want him to worry?”

“Yeah, yeah, that could be it,” He rubbed his chin, checking the time on his watch hoping that his lunch break was soon so he could stop by Max’s trailer to see if she was ok and was coping with the breakup alright.

But still, his break wasn’t until another hour, and the worry was eating him up alive, “Do—”

“I can go and pick up some of her favorite things and go check up on her?” You offered before he could ask, and a sigh of comfort left his mouth.

“Please…and let me know how she’s doing?” He asked almost desperately, as he heard you putting your highlighters and pens away.

“Of course, baby, I’ll call you when I get back.” You told him, gathering your keys that were a short distance from the phone before getting ready to hang up.

“Sounds good…OH! And maybe you could get her the Hershey’s bars with the almonds inside? I know she likes those.”

He remembered the movie night a few months ago, the same one where they all drew on his face. Max had gone straight for the candy bar, monopolizing it to herself and only giving pieces of it to El and a few to Steve, since he was the one who bought it.

You laughed, making a mental note and adding it to the list of things you were already planning to get Max in order to cheer her up, “Got it, babe! I’ll head out now. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He replied, hearing you smack your lips giving him a telephone kiss as he chuckled and did the same before hanging up first and getting back to work. He had hope that the more he worked the more time would pass and he would hear back from you with good news.

The grocery store had all you needed for the pick-me-ups that Max would surely like. The chocolate almond bar that Steve told you to get, a few more bags of candy, some tissues, and a small bouquet of flowers for the extra touch.

You stood there in front of the trailer, tapping gingerly and calling out her name a few times before you could hear the footsteps from inside coming closer until the doorknob twisted and there was Max dressed in an oversized t-shirt with her hair in a messy bun. Your smile faltered slightly when you remembered why you were here in the first place.

“Hey,” she greeted, opening the door wider when she saw it was you. Furrowing her brows with the items in your hand, you smiled apologetically, handing her the flowers first.

“Hey Max. I brought some stuff to cheer you up,” you said watching her take the florals and look at you confused, “I’m so sorry if this is awkward, but Lucas told Steve about the breakup and he told me, and we just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Max’s expression softened, stepping aside to let you in, “It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize…this is actually really sweet.”

You smiled weakly, walking into her trailer and feeling relieved that she wasn’t upset. “No, yeah, we just wanted to make sure you’re doing alright since we had no idea about it.”

The two of you sat down on the couch, and you watched as she grinned when you gave her the rest of the treats. The chocolate bar being immediately ripped open as she broke off a piece and offered it to you first, which you accepted before she began indulging in it.

You chewed on the sweet treat, swallowed before you spoke, “So, uh, Steve and I were just wonder…did Lucas do something to hurt you? Or is it just that you’re not interested anymore?”

Max felt the knot in her stomach, sighing as this would be the first time she was explaining it to anyone. Even when Lucas asked why and even El, she simply brushed them off and told them it was normal or nothing.

“It’s not that. I still love and care about Lucas, but I just…just don’t think that a relationship is good for me right now. I’m not in the right mindset, y’know?”

You nodded, understanding where she was coming from and it all washed over you, “Yeah, I totally get it. And I’m sorry again if we were prying or anything. Just want you to know me and Steve are here for you, through anything and everything.”

The young girl smiled, feeling grateful for the kindness and time you took out of your day to come in and check on her when you could’ve simply picked up the phone and called. The effort mattered, and she was appreciative of that.

“Hey…and if Lucas loves you, he’ll understand and be patient,” you added, smiling softly and resting a hand on her knee, “take all the time you need, and when you’re ready, you two can work things out.”

She didn’t bother speaking a word to you. Her smile and arms that she wrapped around you were enough for her to express that she was thankful for everything you and Steve had done in the past three days.

“Do you think I could spend the night at yours? Girls’ night with me and El, if you’re not busy or working tomorrow?” She sought, pulling away from you as you smiled and nodded.

It was a Friday and thankfully you didn’t have much work to get done for school and you didn’t pick up a shift at the general store until next week so you were practically free, “Sure, but just in case can you call your mom and make sure it’s alright with her?”

She nodded, getting up for the phone before she turned to you, “There’s some lemonade in the fridge that I made this morning. Eddie’s uncle gave us a whole bag last night…apparently some guy at his plant has a huge lemon tree.”

You snorted, nodding your head as you got up, heading for the kitchen and pouring yourself a refreshingly sour glass of lemonade while Max called her mom’s working place to get through and ask if it was alright to spend the night at yours.

Once she got the green light from her mom and calling El to invite her, she headed for her room, packing some of her things that she would need while she was at yours, along with some cassettes that she wanted to show to you and El. You washed up your glass, tidying up a bit before you used the phone to call Steve and let him know that everything was ok and that Max and El would be staying with you for the night.

She shut her bedroom door, walking out with her duffle bag slung over her shoulder, “I’m ready,” she announced to you as you smiled, still holding the phone to your ear.

Steve was concerned about Max and asked if he could speak to her over the phone to check up on her, “It’s Steve. He wants to talk to you if that’s ok?” You asked her, and she agreed, dropping her bag down on the sofa and accepting the phone you held out for her.

You could hear Steve talking her ear off the moment he knew that she was now on the phone with him. Max kept humming out “mhm’s” and “yes’s” nodding her head along with whatever Steve was telling her.

“You made a really brave and good decision, Max.” Steve spoke, his voice soothing, “Putting yourself isn’t a bad thing and if anything I’m so proud of you for doing it. If Lucas can’t see what an amazing girl you are it’s his loss at the end of the day. Take some time for yourself and when you’re ready, maybe you both will find your way back together.”

God, he felt like such a dad right now, but he said all the right words, the ones that Max needed to hear.

Her cheeks rose with a smile on her face as she thanked him, grateful for his support.

“Thanks, Steve. It’s just hard, you know? I still care about Lucas so much, but I just don’t feel like I can be in a relationship right now.”

“I get it,” Steve responded. “But I want you to know that you’re smart and don’t need a boyfriend behind you. You’re good enough on your own right now, and when you’re ready, you’ll find someone who deserves you.”

Max felt a sense of comfort wash over her. Sure maybe all the teens, including herself would make fun of Steve of being such a dad with all his lecture and advice, but he had this special knack for knowing how making people feel better, even in the toughest times and today it was no different with her situation.

“T-thanks, Steve. That means a lot,” Max’s voice cracked, feeling her eyes start to well up with tears out of nowhere.

You moved beside her, hoisting an arm around her shoulder, and you pulled her into a side hug, and brushed the tears off her cheeks with your thumbs. You knew she was massively touched by everything you and Steve were doing for her, and it was heartwarming to see her so vulnerable when it came to you two.

“Hey, don’t cry,” you could hear Steve say through the speaker, his voice gentle. “I know this is tough, but we’re here for you. Whatever you need, we’ll be here to support you.”

“Thanks, Steve,” Max spoke, smiling up at you as you continued to brush away her tears. “I really appreciate it. I just hope that one day, Lucas and I can patch things up.”

“I’m sure you will, Max,” Steve said, his voice reassuring. “But for now, just focus on taking care of yourself. That’s the most important thing, alright?”

She assured Steve and thanked him once more before he let her go. Yelling out an “I love you” for you before Max placed the phone back down on the receiver. She locked up the place, petting the stray cats outside the porch before she got into your car and you two drove off to pick up El.

Once the three of you were in the car, the party was already started. Madonna blasting through your radio with the windows down as you all shouted out the lyrics and danced in your seats. You decided to stop at the store to pick up a few more things to make it a bit more special. Wandering the aisles, you picked out face masks, microwavable popcorn, and all the other things that would make a sleepover fun.

When you finally arrived at your apartment, the girls couldn’t wait to make themselves at home, springing up the steps until they got to your floor, already hearing you doggie, Ollie, barking from inside.

You smiled, unlocking the door and letting them in first, watching as they dropped their bags and went straight for your pup. Cuddling him in their arms and giggling at his playful antics while you began unloading the bags from the store on the coffee table in the living room.

“Okay, tonight we’re going to have fun, but there’s just one rule!” You announced, dusting your hands off as you plopped onto the couch, watching the girls tilt their head up towards you and nod.

“No boy talk! None at all! Nothing about current boyfriends, ex-boyfriends…I don’t want to hear about your romantic lives and I’m sure you don’t want to hear about mine—no boy talk! Capiche?”

The girls snickered, nodding their heads, as they got up from the floor and decided to join you on the couch, reaching for a bag of chips and opening it to share with each other.

“So, how is college? Is it harder than high school?” Max sought before stuffing her mouth full of the crunch chips.

You breathed, nodding your head wistfully as their faces dropped.

“It’s definitely more rigorous, but it helps to have a routine. I’m getting used to it.”

El sat up, nodding her head in agreement, “Jonathan says that college is tough…he gets sad when Nancy is busy and doesn’t call because of study or exams.”

Jonathan, her half-brother through Joyce, had decided to stay in Hawkins, pursing his career of photography in town by booking some weddings and birthday parties. Nancy headed off for college the same year you did, but she went out of state at a university while you stayed back and decided to attend a community college to save some money first.

“Yeah, but it’s all worth it in the end,” you assured her, patting her shoulder as she went on, with wide eyes.

“I’m so nervous about college,” she pressed her hands on her cheeks as you and Max giggled, “what if I don’t get in?!”

You knew how she felt and it wasn’t too long ago when you were a senior feeling totally lost in the mix of applying for colleges and hoping for an acceptance letter.

“Don’t worry, you have plenty of time to figure it out,” You criss-crossed your legs together and looked between the two girls, “You two are gonna be sophomores in a few weeks and maybe then you’ll figure out what you wanna pursue and that will be something to check off your list.”

They looked a bit more relived yet nervous, realizing that they were in fact entering sophomore in a matter of days. The summer had flown by quickly and a new school year was about to be in session. Freshman year wasn’t too bad considering the fact that the group stayed together, but as time goes on, they knew that new friends would sprout and growing apart was normal.

“Hey…and when your senior year comes, I’ll be there to help you both with college applications and I’ll even read over your essays and make sure they’re ready to go.” You assured them, making them smile broader, no longer fearful about the future, but more so glad that they’d have you to go to for any college advice.

“We’ve got this,” Max smirked, high-fiving her best friend before Ollie had joined in on the excitement, barking cheerfully and running around in circles, making all three of you giggle at his cuteness.

As the day slowly dwindled into night, the three of you had changed into more comfortable clothing: big t-shirts and sweatpants. The couch was now situated with fluffed up pillows and even softer blankets. Your faces now glazed in the clay face masks with a movie playing on the TV and a big bowl of the popcorn being passed around the three of you.

Only the knock on the door made you three tear your eyes away from the TV. Ollie immediately running towards the front door, sniffing then barking. You got up, and Max paused the movie, as the two sat up, watching you open the wooden door first, revealing Steve on the other side of the outer screen door.

“Did someone order half pepperoni and cheese and half pineapple for a girls’ night?” Steve tries his best to deepen his voice as if his own girlfriend and the girls wouldn’t recognize him.

You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh as you opened the door, to greet him, “You’re such a dork!” you say, giving him a kiss as he chuckles against you making sure his lips don’t touch the mask on your face.

He enters the apartment with the pizza box balanced on his palm, shooting a smile to the girls and Ollie who races in circles around Steve’s feet—the usual Ollie greeting.

The girls get up. El taking the pizza box from him and setting it down on the coffee table while Max picks up the small container of the clay face mask. He looks at them, puzzled, as El begins to speak, “You can stay, but you have to follow the rules!”

You’re highly entertained, listening to their conversation as you locked up the door and headed for the kitchen to grab some plate and napkins.

He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, “Lay it on me.”

“No boy talk!” El declares firmly with a pointed finger, and he nods. Steve can totally do that.

Max steps closer. “Annnnd you have to put on the face mask,” she says with a mischievous grin.

Despite his protests and even begging for you to back him up, he eventually agrees, letting Max dip her fingers into the goopy product and smear it across his face. El grabbed the extra scrunchie on her wrist, tying back Steve’s hair into a wonky ponytail when he complained about it getting in his hair.

You couldn’t help yourself, jogging into your bedroom to snatch your polaroid off your desk in order to snap a picture of the scene in the living room. Steve sat on the couch with his face scrunched up, while Max laughed and swatted his hands away when he tried to stop her from putting more on. And El in the background giving a thumbs up with a massive smile on her face. The photo was definitely going to be one of your most prized possessions now.

Soon enough, Max’s hands were now free of the clay and all four of you had some pizza while you continued on with the movie before talking to each other about life. Steve was about to say something about Eddie entering the dating scene, but before he could finish, the three of you were shouting and groaning, “No talking about boys!”

Steve laughed, shutting his mouth as he apologized and you all laughed, “Sorry! Sorry. I forgot the rule!”

You smiled, shaking your head as you cuddled into his side, rubbing his arm up and down comfortingly, “We just want a night without talking about guys…I mean it’s pretty stereotypical, but sometimes it’s exhausting talking about boy…no offence, baby.”

Steve chuckled, nodding his head in agreement with your statement, “None taken, doll. And you’re right, boys aren’t the end-all, be-all, of life. All three of you can make it on your own without any man,” he looked down at pouting, “but like, totally, don’t break up with me because I just said that.”

Max groaned, garnering the attention of you both as you looked at her, “This is the only time, I’m breaking the rule,” she pointed at you two as you both nodded, “You and Steve do make a pretty good couple—caring, funny, and surprisingly reliable.”

El piped in, “Don’t forget cute!”

“Oh, and cute!” Max added, as she and El high-fived each other and you and Steve snorted at their amusement.

Steve wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, “Thanks, and now I can say that me and my girl are the cutest couple in Hawkins! You heard it here first!” He announced, making you laugh while the other girls sighed, shaking their heads.

“Oh god, we shouldn’t have said that!”

Soon all your faces are now cleansed and refreshed and the night is slowly simmering down with yawns and sleepy eyes filling the living room. You tidy up the kitchen, washing the dirty plates and cups, as Steve helps you out while the girls get homey in the living room, getting ready for bed.

“Thanks for letting them spend the night here.” Steve murmured from behind you, kissing your neck as you hum and close your eyes, letting him stay them for a moment before you turn your head and kiss his lips.

When you pull away, the two of you are still smiling, before you pat his chest, “C’mon lover boy, you need your sleep remember?”

He nods with a grin, taking your hand and kissing it before the two of you are walking back into the living room, standing in front of the couch where the girls are fluffing up their pillows.

“I’m heading out now, I’ve got a shift in the morning,” He told them as they nodded, getting up and each going in for a hug.

You smiled at the scene, heart-warming up as he wrapped his arms around them and pulled them a little closer, savoring this moment that was so simple yet meaningful to him. And especially for Max who held on a little longer, quietly whispering a “thank you,” before she pulled away and got comfy on the couch.

“Goodnight, Steve.” The girls yawned out tiredly, as they pulled their blankets up over their bodies.

Steve grinned, looking at how comfortable they were already, “Night bugs.”

He opened the front door, bending down to pet Ollie goodnight, before he was off running towards the couch and settling between the two girls comfortably. You wrapped your arms around him, inhaling his scent before you rested your chin on his chest, looking up at him as he looked down on you, pressing your lips together again.

“I love you, drive safe ok?” You told him and he nodded, kissing your forehead, then one more time on your lips before you had to unwrap your arms.

“I will, and I love you too…I’ll call in the morning before my shift.”

You nodded, smiling as he parted ways with you, walking down the steps of your apartment building and into the parking lot below where he waved at you before he drove off into the night.

Closing the door and triple checking that you had locked it, you made your way over to the girls, already beginning to doze off slightly as they forced themselves to stay awake to say goodnight to you.

“I’m gonna let you two have the couch with Ollie tonight, but I’ll just be in my bedroom and I’ll keep my door open if anything, alright?” You told them softly, and they nodded their heads, with dopey smiles on their faces.

“Kay, goodnight,” they singsonged as their eyes fell and you quietly giggled, bending down to press a warm kiss to the tops of their heads.

“Goodnight, sweethearts…night Ollie.”

As Max laid there listening to the slight snores already coming from El, she couldn’t help but think about how uncomfortable she felt a few days ago in the doctor’s office. The bright fluorescent lighting and the cold, sterile environment made her feel uneasy and anxious. She was on edge about everything the doctor was saying and how it all erupted before her eyes.

But now, as she lay on the couch in your living room, with the soft glow of the moon seeping through the curtains and her eyelids, she felt safe and at peace. The warmth of the blankets and the gentle hum of the air conditioning made her feel calm and relaxed. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting the tension in her body melt away.

As she drifted off to sleep, she couldn’t help but feel hopeful about the future. She knew that there would be challenges and obstacles to overcome, but she also knew that she had the support of her friends and especially you and Steve. With a smile on her face, she whispered a quiet “thank you,” grateful for this moment of peace and comfort.

a/n: i hope you guys liked chapter one of this series!!! i know it is angsty and there is a lot of talk about mental and emotional health, but i really feel like it's something worth talking about. opening up is never easy and i hope this story depicts the high and lows of what that's like from max's eyes, but also the blossoming relationship that max and steve (and reader) will start to form as time goes on. a big big thank you to @translatemunson for always listening to my ideas and giving me some to incorporate as well!! i love you, effie &lt;3 going to start working on chapter two soon!!! in the meantime, let me know what you think: reblogs, tags, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated!!!

taglist (if you would like to be added just leave a comment!): @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @wanderlustaflame @fruitbutt @thegaysaretired

[writingwhimsey]

Married to The Enemy- Shingen Ch. 31

Chapter 31

I woke up the next morning to the sound of my alarm on my phone. I let out a groan as I turned it off. I don’t think I had gotten much sleep at all. But now that I had a new day, that meant I could see my love soon.

I climbed out of bed and went into the bathroom. I splashed some water on my face to help wake up before heading into the kitchen. I dug through the cabinets, happy to find some coffee. I brewed the coffee and poured myself a cup. Just the smell was already starting to perk me up a bit.

“Oooh, coffee, how I have missed you.” I spoke to my cup before taking a drink, feeling that first sip in my soul. “When we get back to the Sengoku, I’m going to have to talk to Sasuke and see if we can find a way to get the importing process of coffee started earlier.”

I drank my coffee, finishing off the entire pot before finishing getting ready. I didn’t have the choice but to get back into my kimono. I grabbed the purse Sasuke and his professor had prepared for me and pulled out the prepaid bank card. There was a number on the back to call and check the balance.

I called the number and went through the automated prompts. My eyes were practically bulging out of my head when I heard the number. That was WAY too much. There was NO WAY I was spending all of that. I made the plan to just buy a few basic pieces for myself and Shingen. Who knew how long we would be here? Depending on how things went, perhaps I would find a small office job like I once had before. That way I wouldn’t have to rely on this money.

“Alright, time to go shopping.” I told myself once I had finished getting ready. I headed out on the town, hitting a few clothing stores and just buying myself the basics. Simple pieces that could be used to make multiple outfits so long as you mixed and matched. Also with it being summer I did pick up a couple of sundresses. I went ahead and picked up a few things for Shingen as well. Though I didn’t know how long we would have in the modern day…I had to admit I was looking forward to when he got out of the hospital and getting to dress him up in various modern styles.

Once I had finished my shopping I returned to the apartment to put away the clothes and change. I decided to put on one of the sundresses. It was a simple and cute dress with spaghetti straps and came down to just above my knee. White flowers patterned the dress and the skirt was so flowy and breezy.

I couldn’t help but to smile as I thought about Shingen seeing me in modern clothes for the first time. Since we’d arrived he’d only seen the doctors and nurses, so he hadn’t really seen the full array of clothing that was worn now. 

I grabbed my phone and looked up the nearest breakfast places and what they had to offer. “Hmm…donuts should be a good first sweet treat breakfast for Shingen to try.” I muttered to myself.

I left the apartment and headed to the restaurant and ordered the donuts to go. By the time I had finished, it was finally visiting hours at the hospital once again. I couldn’t wait to see Shingen again. I hope he was able to sleep well last night. I thought as I walked the sidewalks to the hospital. I was so happy Sasuke and his professor had been able to set me up in an apartment so close. I’ll have to do something really nice for them.

Once at the hospital, I made my way to the floor Shingen was on and to his room. The door was slightly ajar so I pushed it open further to peak my head in. Shingen was sitting up in his bed looking a bit groggy as a nurse was checking his vitals and making sure his IV was all set.

Shingen’s sleepy eyes turned to me as I came in and a smile spread across his face, making my heart melt. “There’s my angel.” He said.

The nurse looked up. “Ah, you must be Mrs. Takahashi.” She greeted me.

Takahashi…oh right Shingen’s alias here! I thought to myself. I smiled. “Yes, I am the lucky woman.” I replied.

The nurse smiled. “You must be very special. Even in his sleep after I gave him some medicine he wouldn’t stop talking about you.” She said. “I’ll leave you two alone for a bit. You’ll be having more tests done today.”

The nurse then left and I was making my way over to Shingen’s bedside. “How are you feeling?” I asked him.

“Better now that you’re here.” He answered, his arms reaching for me and pulling me into the bed with him before I even had a chance to sit down in the chair.

I giggled. “Careful or you’ll make me squish our breakfast treats.” I said, holding up the box of donuts, though I was happy to be in his arms.

“I thought you were my treat.” Shingen replied, kissing my forehead. “Especially when you’re looking so cute.”

I felt my cheeks heating up, but I couldn’t deny that I was happy right where I was…or how much I enjoyed Shingen’s flirting. “Well this is a bonus then, I guess.” 

“So, what is it?” Shingen asked.

I smiled as I flipped open the box. “They’re called donuts. A deep-fried sweet dough covered in other various and delectable sweets.”

Shingen’s eyes widened as he looked at the donuts…I honestly thought I might see some sparkles in those gray eyes. “They all look so good…”

I had picked up a variety of donuts so that Shingen would have some options to try. “You really can’t go wrong with any of these. However THIS is my personal favorite.” I said, reaching into the box and pulling out a chocolate eclair donut. “This icing on top is chocolate…my absolute favorite sweet and the inside has a delicious sweet filling.”

“I don’t want to take it if it’s your favorite.” Shingen replied.

“That is why I got two of every flavor in this box.” I informed him with a proud smile.

Shingen grinned. “My goddess is brilliant and beautiful.” 

I held the donut to his lips. “Come on now, try it. I know you’re gonna love it.”

Shingen parted his lips and then bit into the donut. His face…he was like a little kid who had just been introduced to sweets for the first time. “That is delicious.” He said after swallowing the bite before going in for another. He was then reaching into the box and grabbing out the other eclair donut for me and holding it to my lips.

I smiled before taking a bite. I must have had stars in my eyes too…it had been SOOO LONG since I’d had a donut. I forgot just how much I loved them. “Mmm…” I hummed as I closed my eyes, smiling in contentment.

“Should I be jealous of this donut?” Shingen asked, a teasing smile on his face.

My eyes popped open and instantly my cheeks reddened. “No…it’s just been so long since I’ve had a donut.”

Shingen smiled and hugged me closer. “It is a rather tasty treat.”

I smiled as I nestled into his embrace. “While we’re here I’ll have to bring you all kinds of sweet treats to try. We have waffles and pancakes…those are also breakfast foods. Then there’s ice cream, slushies, cookies, all kinds of cakes, and a HUGE array of candy.”

“And when we go back we don’t say a word to Yuki.” Shingen replied.

I giggled and nodded. “Agreed. We’d never hear the end of it.”

We continued to enjoy the donuts together. “How did you sleep last night, my love?” Shingen asked me as we continued to cuddle up even after finishing the donuts. 

“Okay…once I got to sleep.” I replied. “I missed you.” There was no point in trying to lie or hide it.

Shingen couldn’t hide his smile. “I’m glad to know the feeling is mutual.”

“I set my alarm early so I could get up in time to get here as soon as visiting hours started.” I confessed.

“You’re so cute.” Shingen told me.

I felt my cheeks redden. “I just wanted to see you as soon as possible.”

“That makes me happy to hear.” He said. “I’m also happy to see this…new kimono you are wearing.” His fingers were trailing over my bare arms and exposed legs.

I felt myself warming under his touch. “It’s called a sundress.” I replied. “And I had hoped you would like it.”

“Very much.” Shingen replied. “Is this…normal attire for this time?”

I nodded. “Very much so. Especially for the hot summers.”

“I like it.” Shingen replied, his hands still roaming over me.

“You know, being like this is going to be when the doctor or a nurse walks in.” I told him. “We should behave ourselves.”

“I am behaving.” Shingen replied. “If I weren’t my hands would have already wandered under this… dress.”

I laughed and shook my head. I reached for his hands, bidding them to stay still. “You are here to get better.” I reminded him. “I don’t want them kicking you out before they cure you.”

Shingen chuckled. “Alright, I’ll behave myself.” He said, settling his hands in more appropriate places. “But once I am cured and out of here, I don’t have to, right?”

“You’re shameless…but it’s one of the many things I love about you.”

“That wasn’t a no.”

I giggled again. “As long as the doctor releases you and says you have made a complete recovery, then no, you won’t have to.”

“Well, now I have even more motivation to listen to what the doctor says.”

It was then as if on cue, there was a knock on the door and the doctor was coming in. “Good morning, Mr. Takahashi….Mrs. Takahashi, I see you arrived as soon as visiting hours started.”

I felt my cheeks flushing. “Yes…”

The doctor gave us a smile. “It’s good to see Mr. Takahashi has such a loving and supportive wife. Patients always do better when they have a strong support.” He said.

“My angel is truly my greatest blessing.” Shingen said, causing me to turn redder.

“Well, today we will be running some more tests on you. I want to get a chest X-ray, a CT scan, and an MRI.” The doctor said. He then rattled off a few more tests that he would be conducting as well. “Mrs. Takahashi, if there are any errands you need to run, you might want to do that while we are conducting these tests.”

“I…I can’t just wait here?” I asked.

“You can, but it is going to be an all day thing.” The doctor said. “We have your contact information should we need to get a hold of you. Though we should be finished by dinner time.”

“I’ll be alright, Ava.” Shingen assured me. 

“I’ll be sending someone in to start the tests in about fifteen minutes.” The doctor said.

Shingen and I nodded as the doctor walked out the door. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” I asked.

Shingen smiled. “Isn’t this the best place for me to be?” He asked.

“Okay, that’s fair.” I replied.

“Is there something you need to do?” Shingen asked.

I nodded. “Yeah. My Oba-san…I need to see her.”

“Then you should go.” Shingen told me. “I will be fine here.”

I nodded. “Alright, but I am staying here till they come get you for the tests.”

Shingen chuckled as he hugged me tighter. “I can accept that.” He said, pecking me lightly on the lips. “You were close with your grandmother?”

I nodded. “For a time after my father left, my mother and I lived with her.” I explained. “She can be a bit…eccentric, but she is a lovely woman.”

“What makes you say eccentric?” He asked.

I pursed my lips in thought. “It can be a bit hard to explain. But…for example when my mom disappeared, she said she knew she was okay and that she’d found some place she was happy.”

“How did she know this?” Shingen asked.

I shrugged. “Not sure. She claimed she could just feel it that my mom was fine.”

“And you didn’t agree?” Shingen asked.

“No.” I answered. “But I’ve come to realize that maybe it was just her way of coping with the loss of her daughter, especially in such an odd way.”

“I can understand that.” Shingen replied.

It was a few minutes later, a couple of orderlies were coming into take Shingen for his tests. We shared another hug and kiss before I was climbing out of the bed and they were wheeling him out the door. Hopefully soon we would find out what was going on with Shingen…and hopefully I would be able to have a good talk with my grandmother.

Taglist: @limonzu @zulablaise @oda-princess @kisara-16 @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @lucyw260 @selenacosmic

[bensonsbobblehead]

Stand Still 

Pairings: Olivia Benson x Daughter!OC

Olivia Bensons daughter dealing with post op alone or so she thinks. 

 Content warnings: ANGST! Abortions , sex, sexual assault, lots of sadness, basically things that would be talked about in an episode. 

wc; 1.2k

[masterlist]

“Ryann Benson?” The nurse called softly from the door. The door Ryann had been staring at for the past two days in a row. This was it, she was doing it, alone.

The young women stood up walking quickly to the door as she turned her phone off. With her head hung low hoping no one in the office would remember her face. 

It’s freezing she thought as the nurse led her to a room and ordered her to take off her clothes. The nurse gave her and gown and left the room. After what felt like forever she returned with a million questions. 

Are you sure this is what you want? Is there anyone you need me to call? We can stop at anytime. Do you have someone to take you home? 

Ryann was on autopilot, she hated she was in this situation. It wasn’t entirely her fault Justin couldn’t take no for an answer so she just gave in. Which she knew her mother wouldn’t be proud of.

Maybe if I would’ve fought harder, he didn’t technically force me, I just gave up on saying no. 

Tears grew in her eyes as she thought about what happened. How he denied it was even his and blocked her number, leaving her completely helpless. She had to be strong, she had no choice. 

Before she knew it was time, Doctors and nurse flooding in with gear and equipment. 

“Just breathe for me” the doctors said as he begun. Ryann cried and breathed and cried again, the pain of it all was unbearable. 

“Is there anything you need sweetie?” The nurse asked holding her hand. 

My mom 

“No” Ryann whispered back wishing time would fly pass so this can all be over. She felt violated all over again. Exposed for everyone to see it was humiliating, all she wanted was her mom. To be there with her through all of this, but she couldn’t.

Olivia always knew how to soothe Ryann whenever she needed to. She’s her baby girl and quite frankly she’ll do anything to see her smile. 

When the procedure was over they gave her a change of clothes, medicine, and sent her on her way. 

She felt like she was hit by a bus but she had to hurry home. Ryann called an Uber and paid her extra to help her up the stairs, it was the least she could do. 

When she got into the apartment it was completely silent. No Olivia, no Noah, just Ryann and her thoughts. She walked to her room and laid down immediately. Stuffing the Planned Parenthood bag almost all the way under her bed. The girl dozed off finally getting some rest. 

—-

“Ry please answer the phone sweetie, I love you”

Olivia left her 4th message to her daughter. Ryann was Olivia’s oldest, she was a responsible girl but sometimes Olivia worried about her. Of course, she was a woman living in this world, how could she not worry. 

Ryann had told her she’s been with her friend since the weekend and she didn’t need to worry. But Olivia felt it in her soul something was up. So, she called Ava, Ryann only friend honestly.

“Hi Ava, I was wondering if Ry was still with you? She hadn’t been returning my calls”

“Hey, and no she actually went home early on Saturday you haven’t seen her?”

My daughters missing

“Thank you Ava” Olivia hung up and quickly called Amanda to her office. 

“Ry is missing, I need .. I need someone to trace her phone and her bank cards and I have to go get Noah” 

“Olivia, relax we are going to find her” Amanda reassured the woman heading toward the team and briefing them. 

Olivia sat in her office wondering how she let her guard down when it came to them she was always on top of it. She wanted Ryann to have more space even if that meant not talking to her everyday. She wondered how she not notice that she was missing.

“Captain” Amanda said from the office door causing Olivia to look up, “You’re going to want to see this” Amanda sat the laptop on her desk showing her daughters latest purchases. The top one being the very pricy one with the words Planned Parenthood next to it. 

“I need to find my daughter now” Olivia stood up grabbing her belongings heading towards the elevator.

The first thing Olivia thought was why would her own daughter want her there for this. It did not matter that her daughter was pregnant but it was about her protection. Making sure there through whatever Ryann had to face. 

When she arrived at the apartment she noticed her daughters shoes and headed toward her door. Knocking softly and getting no response she peaked in. 

Seeing her daughter buried under the blankets holding Little, the stuffed cat her uncle Elliot gave her when she was 9. Olivia walked in trying not to wake her, looking around the room for anything to help her understand what happened. As she moved closer to the bed that when she seen the planned parenthood bag. Filled with papers, pads, aftercare, and an outfit. 

“What happened sweet girl” she whrispered trying not to wake the girl but failing. Ryann turned over to see her mother standing there with the bag in her hand. Tears grew in her eyes fast, “Mama I —“ she said quickly sitting up. Before she could finish Olivia was already taking off her shoes and climbing into bed with her. 

“What’s going on Ry, talk to me” As she held her trying to give her the upmost comfort. Olivia took a look at her daughters face and she looked exhausted, Olivia hated this. 

“Justin and I were making out and it started getting intense and I didn’t want to have sex yet — but he begged even after I said no a thousand times. 

 I gave up and just let him. I didn’t want to do it and now I’m here” she was hysterical, “Please forgive me mama, I shouldn’t have even been doing anything. It’s all my fault.”

Olivia had felt like she was punched in the chest. Her daughter was a … victim. 

“I’m here for you now Ryann, I’m never going anywhere.” Ryann cried even harder, tears falling all over her mother. It 

It took Olivia 30 minutes to calm Ryann down before she spoke up. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I didn’t want you to know I was weak or for you to hate me for even thinking about sex.”

Olivia knew Ryann was a strong, creative girl and he could never hate her. Ryann brought a light into Olivia’s life and it’s been shining bright ever since.

“Look at me, I will never hate you and Ryan you are so strong. he’s the weak on. I wish I was there to hold your hand and be by your side through all of this.” 

Ryann cried harder all she wanted was her mom, she was her role model. Disappointing her was the last thing Ryann wanted to do. 

“It was your choice and I have no right to question that and I absolutely don’t hate you. You’re a part of me Ryann Serena.” 

Ryann snuggled into her mom, tears still falling from her eyes. Ryann had wished she called her mom to come with her to get the abortion

[mj-ackerman]

SxF Light Novel: Family Portrait Translation Mission 2: Yuri's Day Off (Part 2)

<<Part 1 . . . Part 3>>

“Welcome to STEP WORK KIDS.”

“This is a city where you can learn a lot of jobs. Please play and experience a lot, and find what you wanna be in the future.”

“Have fun.”

Greeted by the smiling faces of the staff, Yuri and Anya stepped into a much larger and more authentic children’s town than they had imagined. Although much smaller than the actual thing, the fire station, hospital, courthouse, library, newspaper office, post office, bank, publishing house, and the science and technology research institute were elaborately made but somewhat adorable. The floor is paved with cobblestones, there are even traffic lights and pedestrian crossings, and small buses running on the streets.

Most, if not all, of the visitors were parents and their children, and the parents looked strangely tired everywhere. Some of the mothers were walking like zombies, and some of the fathers were sitting like figurines on the benches in the street.

“Papa! Come on, hurry up! I wanna be a fashion model next!”

“Eh….there… Papa’s a little embarrassed to go in there…. I’m fat after all. My stomach is also sticking out lately. Let’s go to the pastry shop instead.”

“No, no! That place is definitely one we can't miss!!”

Seeing a little girl, maybe a little older than Anya, forcing her reluctant father to come along her, Yuri thought,

Why? What’s there to be ashamed of being fat?

Yuri furrowed his brow, thinking that it wouldn’t matter if the father’s belly was sticking out or not, it’s his daughter who would be experiencing it anyway.

Anya, perhaps overwhelmed, kept her mouth open.

“How many times bigger is this than my house?”

“Hnn? If we divide the area of this facility by the area of your house…about 80 times.”

“E-Eighty times…”

Anya swallowed.

“So? Where do you wanna go first? Judges, scientists, and bank clerks…they are all stable jobs and offer solid careers.”

While Yuri looks through the pamphlet he received at the entrance, he picks out some of the recommended occupations. All of them were things he wanted to be in the past.

“Being a prosecutor or a lawyer sounds good too.”

“I can’t see it, Unkie. Please bend down!”

Anya, who is short, yells as she jumps up and down.

“Didn’t you get one at the entrance too?” Yuri asked.

“Yeah, but it's….”

From her small handbag, Anya took out a crumpled pamphlet.

“What do you think? Journalism is a great profession too, or if you’re strong enough, I think being a soldier is not that bad.”

“I wanna go here.”

Anya pointed to the top of the pamphlet. Yuri’s face involuntarily stiffened as he skims over the top.

“I saw it from the police cartoons I watched yesterday.”

“...........”

“Become a police officer, jump from high places and kill bad guys.”

Anya snorted while she talked excitedly.

“Then, lock them up in a pig cage and feed them with rotten food.”

“.....Don’t you say those words in front of my sister.”

Yuri grumbled, “I’m begging you.” as he began to regret bringing this chihuahua girl here.

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

“Welcome. Here at the police station booth, you can experience the work of a police offer.”

Upon entering the police station booth, a young woman staff smiles at them as she guides them through the building. The entire staff was dressed in costumes that resemble police uniforms.

A father and son, who seem to have finished their experience, walked past Yuri and the others with excited expressions on their faces.

“This is my first time shooting a gun! Hehehe... And of course, every shot hits the target! Awesome right?”

The son proudly boasted to Anya. The young father says, “Come on, let's go. Sorry to bother you.” as he urges his son, bowing becorry towards Yuri. Yuri also reflexively bowed his head back. “It's okay,'' he replied.

“I wanna be a doctor next!”

“Geez...Is daddy gonna wear a white coat during his day off too?”

“It’s fine! Hurry up, hurry up!”

“At least let me do other jobs on my holiday.”

That was the conversation Yuri heard from the father and son as they were walking away.

What? What are they talking about?

While Yuri's head was filled with question marks, “Gun….Bondman.”, he heard Anya, who was standing next to him, mumbling in a dangerous tone. Her eyes were shining suspiciously.

“Remaining bullets, two-eights.”

She looks unnecessarily sharp, and she is saying things that he can’t understand. The strange gleam in her eyes made Yuri’s instinct to tell him,

I can't let her play with guns.

“It’s your time now….”

A woman who was reading something that looks like a progress chart, lifted her face.

“The interrogation room is available. She can experience the work of criminal interrogation with our actors. What do you think?”

“Then, we’ll go with that please.”

Yuri responded immediately without listening carefully. He must stop the shooting at all costs. Anya tugged the hem of Yuri’s jacket and shouted, “I want to shoot a gun! I wanna be like Bondman!”, but he ignored her pleas and pretended he didn���t hear anything.

“Well then, please change into your uniform here.”

“Come on, you go now.”

As he pushed Anya’s back, the woman politely told him,

“No, her big brother has to come with her too.”

“No, I'm not her big brother-”

“He's not my brother, he's my unkie.”

“Oh my, you look so young so I thought you were just her older brother.”

The woman looked at Yuri in surprise, then she politely corrected herself,

“I'm sorry for my rudeness. Well then, please come this way too.”

Ugh… I want to vehemently correct the word “Uncle”. But I feel like if I say I’m not her uncle, it’s going to be extremely troublesome.

Everything is dangerous these days. If you’re not careful enough, you may be reported as a suspicious person. If that happens, the secret police reputation will be ruined.

So there's nothing else I can do.

Although he was not willing to do it, Yuri immediately changed his attitude.

“No”, he replied “She'll go there on her own to experience it.”

Yuri decided to be a good “uncle”. He was originally good at acting after all.

“I will wait here. Listen carefully to the big sisters in there and be a good girl, okay?”

Yuri smiled, it's a smile of a gentle uncle for his adorable niece. And Anya, with wide eyes, was looking at Yuri like he was a strange creature.

“Unkie, you're gross.”

She muttered.

“Your smile is so fake.”

He was annoyed by her stubbornness, and he decided to ignore it. However, the female employee turned around and said,

“Um, I regret to inform you of this, but it's the rule of this facility that the guardians should keep an eye on their children during the work experience….. .”

“What?”

“Our goal is for parents to play with their children to encourage their motivation and find the joy of working, so if you don’t agree with that, then I have to refuse to let you use our services.”

In a polite tone, the female employee strongly emphasized the educational purpose of the facility.

What kind of weird rule is that? ….What’s the point of having the adults to join in too? How does that even motivate children?

It was really confusing for Yuri. However at that point, he suddenly realized why the parents were so exhausted earlier.

“Eh….there… Papa’s a little embarrassed to go in there…. I’m fat after all. My stomach is also sticking out lately. Let’s go to the pastry shop instead.”

“Geez...Is daddy gonna wear a white coat during his day off too? At least let me do other jobs on my holiday.”

Now Yuri understood why the fathers were like that.

Is that the reason why they all look so tired?

He should have realized this sooner, or at least did more research before going there.

My god… it would’ve been easier if I'd woken that fat dog up, and taken them to the park for a walk if I had to do this.

He regrets it to the point of gritting his teeth, but it’s a festival for later.

“What should I do? Should we go back and go somewhere else? But this kid…”

Yuri glanced at Anya who was standing next to him and met her cold gaze.

“If we go back, I will write this in my diary and I will show it to Mama.”

Anya said eloquently. Moreover, she opened her little bag, and Yuri caught a glimpse of the curse book inside it. That was clearly a threat.

“What would you like to do? If you agree with our facility’s rules, please go in and change your clothes in the changing room over there. Or do you perhaps want to leave?”

The young SSS agent felt a great deal of humiliation at hearing the woman’s words with a smile, but he has no other choice but to answer,

“No, I’m going to change clothes.”

[poly-thot-one-piece-edition]

Between the Three of Us

Marco x afab!Reader x Shanks

CW: omegaverse elements (it is such a small part of the story I almost hesitate to mention it), violence, group sex, sex, swearing, it's a noir detective AU I'm sorry I really don't know what else to say.

Chapter 2: Ponderance

You’re in another room with no windows, a level down from the office itself. This room is sterile to the point that even the door leading in has a heavy seal on it to help keep it that way. You’re sat up on an operating table, your shoulder bag in your lap, and your shirt pulled up over your head so it’s in front of your chest.

The straps and accessories of your bank job were already long removed during your run, and your shoes were off in a corner.

“You sure you don’t want to lay down?” Marco asks for the third time. You learned the two men’s names before coming down into this lower level.

Marco D’Edward was a doctor, and the feathery side of Feathered Talon as far as you could tell. He certainly had a softer aura than the one-armed red-head, Shanks MacKenna.

“I’m sure.” You reiterate.

“It’ll be easier on the doc if you do.” Shanks says. He looks relaxed, but you’re not sure he actually knows what it is to relax.

“We’re not going to confiscate what’s in your bag.” Marco assures you.

“It’s what you were hired to steal, isn’t it?” Shanks asks, his eyes shifting down to the bag and back up to you. Your grip on the satchel tightens for a second, as though his gaze was enough to pull the bag from your hands on its own.

“… It is.”

“We’re going to know what it is then anyway,” Shanks asserts. “Since you need to pay for this patch job with a good story.”

You sigh. Honestly, if these two wanted to know what was in your bag you had no way to stop them. You didn’t have any viable defenses for yourself no matter what they might decide to do. A little give and take could go a long way, and you needed the bullet out of your shoulder regardless.

“It’s…” You relax a little and reach into the bag, pulling out the orb. “Supposed to be the map to the One Piece.”

You aren’t sure if Shanks relaxes after seeing it, or not. You could feel Marco flinch behind you, and he lets out a low whistle after a second.

“Stole from the museum.” You can hear the grin in Marco’s voice. “I can’t imagine how long the prep for that took.”

“Long enough.” You put the orb back into the bag, and then lower it to the floor, and adjust so you’re laying down on the table. “Arm up or at my side, doc?”

“Side’s fine.” Marco says. “I’m going to give you a shot, I promise, it’s not anything that’s going to knock you out. It’s just going to numb your shoulder so it won’t hurt as bad.”

“Sure. S’not much I could do even if you did put me under.” You say it a little more defeatedly than you mean to, but after the brief sting of the needle poke, Shanks clears his throat.

“So – you prepped for this job for however long, it goes well enough you have the orb, but poorly enough you get shot in the shoulder. What happened?”

“I was betrayed, in a sense.” You grumble. Talking let you focus on something that wasn’t Marco working on your shoulder, so you leaned into it. “The job went fine. Smooth as silk. Probably one of the best practiced, best executed jobs I’d been on with a team in years.”

“We have an expert thief in our midst.” Shanks teases. It’s a jab, but it doesn’t actually hit like a low blow.

“Treasure hunter, if I could’ve gotten off this damned island.” You grunt, moving your hand just enough to flip him off. “But sure, thief. We can go with that. Even thieves need to eat and pay rent.” You’re quiet for a moment, but no one says anything. Marco pulls the slug from your shoulder and it hurts, feels surreal to have a piece of metal pulled out like that, but it doesn’t hurt so much you can’t take it.

“They decided I was the key to the map, or at least the key to deciphering it, and instead of letting me be on my way, they seemed intent on me going back with them.” You grin despite it all. “They insisted I come with them, I insisted that I wouldn’t. It was a bit of an impasse.”

Shanks snorts, and then just full-on laughs. “Bit of an impasse!” He repeats, and you can hear a soft chuckle escape Marco. “So, how’d it resolve? Sure, you got here, but how?”

“Two broken noses and a dislocated knee.” You say flatly. “I took the orb and ran.”

“You got the drop on mafia?”

“No one expects a little thief to be able to fight, and I don’t – when I can avoid it.” You sigh again. “That secret’s out now though, and I’m not that good of a fighter, I needed that element of surprise.”

“Hmph. So, two broken noses and a dislocated knee bought you enough space to get the orb and run. How long?”

“Not sure. Three hours at least, maybe a little longer. What time was it when I got here?”

“3:42.” Marco says flatly as he cleans the wound. “Twenty minutes later and I would’ve been up on my own.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, you didn’t wake me up.” Marco admits. “You’re impressively quiet, ladrona.”

“It’s (Y/N).” You say. You hadn’t shared your name earlier when the other two had introduced themselves. You had still been trying to think of a way you could leave, and you weren’t giving two gumshoes any free information.

“Don’t apologize, (Y/N),” Marco reiterates. “Shanks sent me a text, and that’s what woke me up.”

“A text?” You look over at Shanks as realization dawns on you. “You saw me!”

He smiles and shrugs, the most genuinely relaxed actions you’d seen from him all evening. “Lucky timing. I was on my way here from the pub and noticed you coming into the courtyard in a mess.”

“A mess? I was exceptionally composed for someone with a bullet in their shoulder.” You nearly growl. His earlier jab didn’t feel low, but for some reason this one did.

He grins and you realize that he’s enjoying riling you up. “Back to the story. It was 3:42 when you got here, how long were you on the move?”

“We started at 11:33.” You admit. “Guard patterns and all that fun stuff. It was a 13 minute and 47 second plan. The conversation went south as soon as we finished, and couldn’t have lasted more than three minutes.” You hiss a little as Marco starts stitching the bullet wound. “We’ll call it 11:50 to 3:40 then? Just shy of 4 hours.”

“That’s quite the merry little chase, to end up barely a dozen blocks away from the museum.” Shanks seems completely amused.

“I shed most of my gear. Stole the bag.” You admit. “And before you give me any kind of lecture, I have every intention of returning it, but I didn’t see anything like a wallet or even money in there.”

“Oh I wouldn’t worry about that.” Shanks is laughing and you can hear Marco laughing too. “We already know who this belongs to. He’ll be home in another hour when his shift ends.”

“Probably hot under the collar.” Marco adds.

“Bah, cranky cause his bus snacks are missing, but he’ll survive.” Shanks grins.

“… Are you telling me out of all the bags in this city, I stole one belonging to an employee here?” The statistical improbability of that was already starting to melt your brain.

“A-yup.” Shanks answers with a wide grin. “It’ll be a good lesson for him. You wouldn’t have nicked it if it wasn’t an easy target, right?”

You make a bit of a face, but he’s not wrong. You couldn’t risk any sort of commotion, so everything you’d taken had been easy pickings.

“All done.” Marco says, and you can feel him pressing a bandage over your shoulder. “We’ll get you set up in a spare room, get some breakfast in you before the hot head gets home, and once you two finish arguing about the bag, you can get some rest.”

You sit up, putting your shirt back on, surprised at how little your shoulder hurts and only vaguely remembering that Marco had numbed it earlier. “Rest? I can’t stay here. You’ve both already-.” You stepped onto the floor and vertigo hit you like a bag of bricks. Shanks was already by your side steadying you.

“You lost a lot of blood.” Marco says evenly as Shanks helps you keep your feet. “Between the wound, all your running around and what you lost while I was patching you up, you need food and rest. Even if I had blood on hand for a transfusion, I don’t know what your type is.”

“I don’t know it either.” You admit, trying not to hurl on Shanks. You were trying not to think about how rock solid this guy was. For someone who moved so fast and quiet he felt like he was made of metal.

He smelled really good too. You expected him to smell like stale booze and sweat honestly, but there was a sweet, cinnamon scent, and something warm and soothing, like bourbon-soaked butter.

“F-food then, thank you.” You manage to get your feet steadied underneath yourself and take a couple steps under your own power. “We’re heading back upstairs then?”

“Grab her stuff.” Marco says, pulling off his gloves and pulling off the mask and apron he’d put on. “I’ll get her upstairs.”

“Sure thing, doc.” Shanks grabs your shoes and the shoulder bag with one hand and heads upstairs.

“Help me up?” You question groggily. Your head feels a little fuzzy, and you’re certain that it’s a mix of the numbing agent, blood loss, and your own exhaustion. Running about town for nearly four hours wasn’t easy under the best of circumstances.

“Aye.” Marco crouches down and scoops you up in his arm in an easy motion. It jostles your shoulder a little, but not much. By the time you have sense enough to tense from the action you’re already well-secured, and Marco’s opening the door to head upstairs with you.

“I – I’m – I can walk!” You nearly cry the words. Relying on others isn’t high up on your general priorities list, and they’ve already hid you, mended you, and are going to feed and shelter you. Being carried is a step one too many.

“Not easily. This is more efficient.” Marco assures you. “If you topple going up the stairs there’s no safe way to catch you without risking your stitches.”

“… I’m accepting under protest.” You grumble, trying to relax and resting your head on his shoulder.

“Noted.”

“You smell nice too.”

Marco pauses halfway up the stairs. “… huh?”

“The smarmy drunk smelled nice – like cinnamon and boozy butter.” You explain matter-of-factly. “You smell like…” You stop for a second, breathing in without thinking. “Pineapple and honey, and something smokey.”

“… I… see.”

“Oi, Marco we’ve got -.” Shanks stops, looking up as Marco walks into the kitchen with you. “Are you-.”

“What do we have for breakfast?” Marco interrupts. He’s knelt down and steadied you on your feet before helping you sit.

“Eggs, bacon, and enough buttermilk to make pancakes if you want.” Shanks answers. There’s a grin on his face that catches your attention and you turn to look at Marco, but whatever has Shanks amused, you miss it.

Marco considering for a second. “Bacon and eggs. Black pudding would be better if we had any.”

“Little bit, enough for our guest, at least.” Shanks admits, pulling items from the fridge. “Can I leave the cooking up to you?”

“Sure.”

Marco and Shanks trade places, and Shanks sits down next to you at the dining table. “So, your story’s not over yet. What made them think you could decipher the orb?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. I’m good at puzzles, and… stuff, but there’s no reason for them to think I can use that orb.” Lying was harder when you were groggy, but you’d worry about dodging the red head after you’d had some sleep. Giving half-answers and being vague was all you had in you right now.

“Should’ve just left it where it belonged.” Shanks says, and you give him a funny look, but you aren’t sure what to say.

“Technically it belongs to the W.G.” Marco says. He’s busy cooking and his back is to both of you. Something about their tone and words is irritating you.

“It belonged to Roger.” You nearly snap the words.

Shanks gives you a look you can’t sort out. “You his kid or something?”

You relax a little, sitting back in your chair. “No.” You answer flatly, eyes on the satchel that has the orb in it. “But he’s dead, and I’m alive, and I’m keeping it.”

[ninapi]

New to this (Osamu version)

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Premise: Osamu fights for his very own chance at happiness when he is reunited with his first love, the mother of his brother's son.

Word Count: 2309

Chapter 6: Happy Ending

Winter was almost over, the chilled air filling your lungs as you sit by the window taking in the beauty of the city nightscape. Your husband bringing you a mug with steaming hot chocolate.

Your morning sickness didn’t last long, as soon as you went into your second trimester all the awful sick-like symptoms disappeared as if they never existed.

Samu got the both of you a set of matching thick silver bands the very next day after finding out he was indeed going to be a father. You woke up from your afternoon nap feeling the chilled pressure of the band around your ring finger, the culprit cradling you in his arms very much asleep. It wasn’t necessary to ask you to marry him, you basically were already, he was just following formalities, you liked those.

When you got up from the bed you saw an envelope full with papers, mostly already pre-filled by Osamu and just waiting for your signature to register your marriage officially. What you weren’t expecting were the papers for Seiji’s adoption. He wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to be his real dad.

Miya Seiji was now official and the child was the happiest of all with the news.

You were currently due in a few weeks and the twins have been confirmed, anyone looking at you would know with a single glance that there was more than one baby inside of you. You got to see your twin boys in the screen at the doctors office many times already. Both healthy and filled with strength. One of them kept on kicking you with all his might and that’s what had you up by the window, unable to lay down. They are quite active and get overly excited when they hear their brother talking to them and would not calm down until instructed by their father.

You haven’t heard much of Atsumu but he sent you a text with a bank account number and a username and password. He opened the account for Seiji and has been sending money to it since then. He knows kids are expensive and even if Seiji is his brother’s son according to the law, he knows he is the real father and wouldn’t let you or him forget about it any time soon. It surprised you since you weren’t expecting his financial help, you knew he was still mopping over the whole situation but it warmed your heart knowing he was finally becoming a rightful adult.

As for mama Miya, she’s been taking knitting classes since she heard the news and has been knitting onesies, baby blankets, plushes, you name it. She honestly wanted the babies to be girls or at least one of them, but she’s an expert in dealing with twin boys and was trying her best to be as helpful as possible sharing tips with you and spending way too much money in her unborn grandsons.

Of course she was also showering Seiji with presents, not wanting the child to feel neglected, he was her first born grandson after all. She found in Atsumu’s apartment a bunch of toys stashed away in a closet, he had been purchasing various items seemingly for his son but didn’t want to deal with everything that came with visiting him, so his mother has been taking them along in her visits and sharing the secret only with her grandson. Seiji loves his daddy and would never change him for anyone, but he’s been sending letters to his real dad and even drawings secretly through his grandma as thanks for the expensive toys and books he’s been giving him. He also silently wishes he was there for him more but doesn’t say it out loud afraid of hurting someone in the process.

Atsumu loves Fridays, that’s when he gets his little boy’s letters and he truly wishes with all his heart that there was a time machine so he could go back in time and get his family back. He still loves you and he adores his son to no avail. If life would give him one more chance he would never let you go.

Samu sits behind you on the window bench, caressing the side of your enlarged belly as he sees a tiny foot pressing out. He knows it must be painful for you but he dies a little each time he sees his sons feet sticking out. As usual, the babies stop kicking you as soon as they feel and hear their dad, giving you a break. ¨I really don’t get how they know it's you when you haven’t even opened your mouth.¨ you chuckle, leaning onto your husband while sipping on the delicious beverage. ¨It's called telepathy, you’re the only one in this family who doesn’t have it. I wish you did though, I wouldn’t have to talk as much.¨ you huffed, insulted. Like it was your fault the lack of psyquic powers, they are the weirdos here, not you.

The shop is doing great, Samu is even thinking of expanding and opening a second shop once the babies are out and the newborn face is over. His shop went viral when Bokuto and Hinata from the MSBY posted a selfie in it. When the fans realized the owner was actually THE Miya Atsumu’s brother the influx of customers became overwhelming.

You were still helping your husband with the customers, even if now you had to sit down to do so. The regulars have become attached to you and even bring you refreshments and souvenirs when they visit the shop. All of them dying to meet the new Miya twins.

──•~❉᯽❉~•──

You were scheduled a C-section, twins are complicated deliveries and the doctor wanted to make sure you and both babies were as safe as possible even if that meant delivering a bit earlier.

So you were currently in a private room at the hospital with more people in it that you could count. Even Sunarin was there, you still don’t know why, but he was there with two big teddy bears and a basket full of fruit. 

It was nice seeing everyone excited to meet the twins but you were a bit nervous, still happy you wouldn’t have to go through labor again, thinking about the pain you felt when Seiji was about to come out gives you nightmares. This time would be a painless delivery but recovery would be much more painful and having two babies to feed and tend was a bit of a worrying thought. Thankfully your mother in law was going to stay with you for a couple of months.

Samu had to remodel the apartment a bit to welcome his sons. You lost half of the living room and the storage closet, but you now had a three-bedroom house. Seiji insisting on choosing the nursery theme for his brothers because of course he knows them better than you, they talk every day. He was going through a dinosaur face now and chose a matching wallpaper, it was basically the same as his just that his had sharks with a pastel blue background, while theirs had a dinosaur print and the background had a soft yellowish tone to it. It was already fully decorated with origami animals and drawings he made as gifts for the twins and all the dinosaur knitted plushies their grandma made.

Once it was time to go in for surgery, your husband never left your side. Seiji stayed with his grandma and the mob of friends while you were being cut in half and was finally time to meet your sons.

One of them was handed over to you while the other was currently in Samu’s arms. You’ve never seen him this happy. His eyes sparkled like a kid in a candy shop, eyeing his beautiful twin boys. You two decided to keep the naming theme you had going on with Seiji, Samu liking the first Kanji you used for his name (星 = star), it was just so fitting, so you went for Seiya and Ryusei. This making your eldest son feel even more important. A bunch of little stars making your life as bright as the night sky.

The funniest thing was that just like him and his brother, both babies had different colored eyes, Ryusei having Samu’s gray eyes while Seiya had yours. Besides that they both looked just like Seiji when he was a baby which meant they would most likely look like their dad.

Once you were cleared to go back to your room, you saw everyone fawning over the pictures in Samu’s phone, the babies were taken by the nurses and you weren´t able to have them in your room just yet. After lots of tears and kisses you weren’t expecting, and having to literally tear your son off of uncle Rin, there was finally peace and quiet.

The birthing experience being so dramatically different from the first one that had you in tears. Happy tears of course.

You felt so loved.

──•~❉᯽❉~•──

Having two babies and a toddler was definitely taking a toll in your and your husband’s body. You’ve barely slept in over a month and your mother in law was returning back to her husband in a week.

You have now fully recovered from the surgery and Seiji was even happier than the two of you combined at the arrival of his new baby brothers. He thought the babies were going to be able to play with him right away but he’s come to terms with the fact that he will have to wait a bit to get there. He is happy nonetheless and a very proud big brother who swore to protect them from harm, constantly asking for permission to sleep in their crib with them and throwing a fit each time you declined his request.

While you would think being this tired and busy all the time would control your unstoppable husband’s appetite, you quickly found out you were wrong, hardly being able to keep his hands to himself. How could he when his lovely wife was so beautiful and he never understood what the postpartum period was. He was even scolded by his mother when he got caught wanting to try out the babies milk off of you after breastfeeding Seiya, he seemed to enjoy it so much that he felt like he was totally missing out.

You swear at this rate you’ll end up having your own volleyball team with all the kids this man will put in you.

Your house was a mess but Samu was an amazing father and he’s been helping you non-stop, cleaning the baby bottles, diaper duties, anything you could think of, he’d do it and never complain. You already knew how great he would be by the way he was with Seiji, but seeing him with the babies was a sight for sore eyes. He would fall asleep on the couch with the twins one in each arm trying his best to let you sleep even for a couple of hours, he insisted he wasn’t tired but he would fall asleep either way, the babies being too warm and cozy to resist.

Ryusei had this thing, he would always pee on Osamu’s face when he was the one to change his diaper, always. And you found him squatting with his eyes closed more than once, even when he denied it. He swears his son has a crush on his own mother and that’s why he only lets you change him. While his brother boycotted his dad, Seiya was constantly calling out for him, loving how comfortable his daddy was, he wouldn’t go to sleep until his tiny hand was fully wrapped around one of his fathers fingers.They are all so silly, it’s amusing and you just loved your family so much.

Once the twins turned six months, Samu finally decided to scout a new location for his second shop. He’s been interviewing staff and training a new chef for the new location, all while being a wonderful dad.

He was currently carrying both of the twins, one on the back and one on the front while chopping onions. You taking care of the counter as usual. It was an unexpectedly busy day and he was getting a lot of unwanted attention from all the infatuated customers. You had to agree, your man was hot and looked adorable with the two babies hanging off of him like if they weight nothing. “Babe, you’re staring.” he wiggled his eyebrows at you, trying to strike a sexy pose while Seiya was chewing on his hair, “How can I not when I have the sexiest dad in the entire universe all to myself. Am I right?” a loud cheer was heard from all your female customers, boosting his ego and spooking your youngest son.

The business was growing at an impressive speed, even the news wanted an interview with Samu to showcase the shop as the raising star of the year in the food industry.

You were so proud of him.

The second shop was a big hit, being in the complete opposite side of Tokyo, quickly having demanding customers asking for one in their area, Tokyo is very big and they just needed their daily onigiri craze without having to hop in a thirty-minute train.

Onigiri Miya was growing out of Samu’s hands, ready to become a chain restaurant, but with your support he knew he could take on any challenge. It has been an amazing couple of years for the Miya family.

──•~❉᯽❉~•──

You loved your house. It was so full of wonderful memories, the last thing you wanted was to leave it behind, but it was getting a bit too small for your very large family. The twins now turning three years old, transformed into little hurricanes. Seiya is more collected, he definitely got his dad’s personality but you wonder how Ryusei can be more like Atsumu than Seiji is. DNA is weird.

Your head was pounding at the loud whines of your eldest twin, clinging to your leg trying to get a second cup of ice cream.

¨NO more ice cream, Ryusei. You won’t eat dinner if I give you more.¨ his wailing increasing at your words, and forcing Osamu to come up the stairs. ¨Ryusei, stop pestering your mother, can’t you see she is tired? Do you think having babies inside is fun? Come with me, let’s go look for your brothers. You can have more ice cream tomorrow.¨

That’s right, daddy did it again.

You were currently as swollen as a balloon. Thankfully this time you know is just one more. This house was really getting small.

Samu has been looking into bigger houses. He wanted to move to the outskirts of Tokyo to have a slower paced life. He secured a small empty shop in a shopping district not far from the very big house you were looking at right now in your phone.

It had six bedrooms, seems like it was an inn in the past. Pretty rustic looking but very appealing.

The kitchen was huge and had a lot of greenery poking through the windows. A large yard for your kids to play around and space to park the car. It seemed like it was made for your family. Though the fact that the house had six bedrooms was making your head spin. You know your husband too well.

Cleaning the house would be a pain, specially handling the shop alongside Samu, but you couldn´t ask for a better life.

Seiji was now an elementary school student, time sure flies when you’re having fun, and babies. He had this special bond with Seiya, assuring he is the one who would always talk to him through your belly button. This made Ryusei throw jealousy fits constantly but he has now claimed the unborn baby as his.

Your household was loud. Really loud. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

──•~❉᯽❉~•──

If someone would have told you when you were five that you would marry your best friend and give him lots of babies, you would have totally believed that person. You still remember that school assignment when you were little where you had to draw what you wanted to be in the future. While everyone drew astronauts and firefighters, you drew the both of you holding hands.

It was your dream to spend the rest of your life with your best friend. Have your very own happily ever after like in the books you would read together.

And it was also his.

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Note: And this, my lovely humans, is the last chapter of Samu’s version of the story. Sorry if this chapter was a bit short, if I didn’t stop myself we would have 12 chapters for this route lol. What do you guys think? Come, sit on my lap and talk to me~ Hope you enjoyed the happy ending route, now the final leg of the story is to come. The true ending. Hope you stick around till the end! –Love, Nina.

Previous Chapter Master List

[prosperdemeter2]

Teaser Tuesday- collision

“You don’t usually call us,” Philip said just an hour later, Buck’s feet scuffing every other step on the paved path he traveled five minutes away from Durand. He had about another hour until Christopher got out of school, and driving home, when the traffic would be all kinds of messy, just didn’t seem to make sense. Plus, Doctor Krikorian had told him that it was a good idea to use his legs, rather than stay seated on them for long periods of time, and Buck had always been a pacer when he was talking on the phone. “Especially not so late in the afternoon.”

Buck frowned as he mind did the quick math - two in the afternoon meant that it was five in Pennsylvania. It wasn’t exactly late. “Sorry.” He mumbled anyway and kicked his toe against a pebble. 

“Is everything okay with Maddie?” His father asked around a hum, his voice dipping into a familiar concern. 

Buck wasn’t shocked. It wasn’t very often that his parents would first ask about how he was doing, even if they had been the ones to reach out to him. They were even less inclined when he was the one to reach out - it was fair, he supposed. Buck didn’t usually call them unless Maddie was in trouble. “Yeah,” Buck cleared his throat. “Yeah, Maddie’s fine. She’s settling in really well at dispatch. Her coworkers love her.” 

He was pretty sure Chim did too, but Buck didn’t know exactly how much their parents knew about Maddie’s romantic life and he wasn’t about to make things awkward by telling them about it. “That’s good,” his father always had a tone that he used whenever he was working. Buck could picture him, surrounded by the mahogany of his office, the plush red carpet and leather chairs. He would be bent over his laptop, or maybe a printed client file, and he wouldn’t look up until Buck was too silent to be normal. Dress shirt and slacks, glasses perched low on his nose. “What’s going on, Evan?” 

A part of him wanted to bristle at the implication that Buck wouldn’t call if nothing was going on but he knew it wasn’t exactly an incorrect assumption. He wouldn’t call if he didn’t feel like he had no other choice. “I was hoping you could help me out.” 

A paper rustled on the other end of the call. His father had shut his file and was, in turn, giving Buck his undivided, weighted attention. “What have you gotten yourself into this time?” 

“I haven’t gotten myself into anything.” Buck defended with a glower down at the pavement. “Listen, I just need some advice -.” 

“How much do you need?” 

“How much advice?” Buck wrinkled his nose in confusion. “I mean, I don’t think it’s a lot -.” 

“Money, Evan. How much money do you need this time.” 

His bank statement flashed behind his eyes. Buck had more than enough to pay for Christopher to go whatever college he dreamed of, regardless of cost and still have some left over. He didn’t need money. “I don’t need any money.” Buck grumbled, his blood pressure spiking with the beating of his heart. “I just… do you have any friends that work in custody law?” 

“Custody law?” Philip echoed. “Evan, you didn’t get some girl pregnant.” 

“I didn’t get anyone pregnant, oh my god.” 

“Don’t take that tone with me,” Philip laughed, as though his assumption had been a perfectly normal one to have (if it had been a few years ago maybe it was, but Buck had always practiced safe sex and he had always made sure his partners had done the same thing. It wasn’t like it was possible, with Eddie at least, for either of them to get pregnant, anyway.). “Why else would you be talking about custody law?” 

And that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? Buck knew his parents didn’t care all that much who he was romantically with, they’d look at Eddie and his divorce with Shannon as messy and would, probably, try and paint Buck as their savior or whatever. But they didn’t know that Buck had been in a committed relationship with a man who had a child, and Buck was screwed if they found out that he had been in a relationship with Eddie while he was still married. They wouldn’t have cared about the logistics behind it - Eddie had had a responsibility and marriage vows and he should have, at least, been in the process of being an honest man before Buck had started sleeping with him (nevermind if Buck pointed out how hypocritical that belief was from the two of them - considering that Philip had dated his secretary when Buck was in high school (he only knew about that because the woman had been four years older than him and her brother had gone to school with him).). “Eddie, my friend -.” 

“Your partner.” Philip corrected, his tone tilting into interest. “Your sister mentioned you were in a committed relationship.”

“Right,” Buck bristled at the idea of Maddie telling their parents anything but, well, Buck had been in and out of the hospital quite a bit during the last year. It only made sense that Eddie had come up in conversation. “Eddie’s ex-wife -.” 

“Your mother and I were a bit shocked,” his father cut him off again with a belly laugh. “We didn’t think you’d ever want to settle down.” 

“I’m just full of surprises.” 

“You know what I mean, Evan.” Philip scolded. “You always made it seem like you wanted to… to travel the world. Be a bachelor forever.” 

“I’ve lived in LA for four years.”

“And before that you barely settled in a town for longer than six months.” Philip laughed again and it stuck to Buck’s skin. “Margaret and I were just shocked. That doesn’t mean anything bad.” 

Didn’t it? 

Buck didn’t know. 

He’d have to break down the entire conversation with Doctor Ocampo during their next session. Figure out why it made him feel like bugs were crawling all over his skin. “Okay,” Buck hated talking to his parents for this exact reason. He wanted to punch himself in the face. Maybe take off like a shot on this path and screw up his leg more than it would eternally be screwed up. “Eddie’s ex-wife is suing him for custody. I don’t think she has a case, but I’m not a lawyer.” 

“Does Eddie have a full name?” 

“I don’t see why that matters.” 

Philip sighed like he was tired of listening to Buck speak already. His seat creaked when he leaned back in it. “How old is their child?” 

“Chris is eight.” 

“Was a custody agreement signed when they got divorced?” 

“Yeah. Eddie has full custody.” Buck wracked his brain for the exacts of it all. “Shannon has visitation, but only as he sees fit. They-they wrote in the paperwork that he could rescind it whenever he saw fit.” 

“I’m assuming he rescinded that visitation.” 

“Yeah.” Buck agreed softly and shifted his shoulders away from a group of passing college students. “She.. she abandoned them a few years ago. Like, full on, no contact. I know that means that in California she has no legal claim to Chris but, but, I don’t know what it means if she’s been in contact with them for the past one? And Eddie already has a lawyer but so does Shannon, and she’s like…” Like mom, he almost said and caught himself at the last second, cheeks burning. “She’ll do whatever she can do to break him down.” 

“Slow down, Evan.” Philip chided. “You know I can’t follow you when you ramble.” 

Right. 

“I have an old law school friend that works out in Ventura. He’s the perfect guy for cases like these.” 

“Eddie already has a lawyer.” 

“A divorce lawyer,” Philip clicked his tongue. “I’m sure she’ll be able to suggest a colleague as well, but I want you to have all of your options.” 

“Oh, uhm… okay.” 

“Of course, Chase is expensive, but if you tell him who you are I’m sure he’ll give you a discount.” Philip continued. “He usually works in employment law, but he has a good history of custody and family law as it’s needed. Does your partner’s ex-wife pay child support?” 

“No. Eddie’s never asked her for a cent.”

“Good,” Philip drummed his fingers on his desk in the background. “I’m taking your mother out for dinner, I’ll start the introduction to Chase when we get back. You’ll have his information in your inbox by tomorrow.”