#hope this helps? and also makes sense ive just woke up and pushed out worlds least grounded alter out of front lol

[evilneo]

Abt your info post, what do you mean "body is white"? Are u talking about race? Why don't you just say you're white then? Im genuinly curious like are you trying to seperate yourself from your race or something? From your lived priveledge?? Do you think you're any less white or any less capable of racism because your queer and disabled or whatever? Like what.

I get it might be a system thing like when you said ur body is 19, but if that's the case why didn't you just say your body needs a cane to function instead of just "cane user"? Is it because you actually want to identify with that because it makes you feel special?

I'd appreciate if this got answered. Maybe it's just something I don't understand about white people yet. Guess I'm open to be educated or whatever

"body is white" = "all alters in this system benefit from white privilege and have only the lived experience of a white person, because however they present in headspace, the body, which is how we are all perceived as, no matter our connection to it, is white"

its not that we think were less white, thatd be. really stupid. its meant to be acknowledging our collective lived privilege of being white no matter how we look in headspace. weve never said or implied being queer or disabled makes us less white? weve always been solid on the stance that while yes we are at a disadvantage from our queerness and disability, we still benefit from white privilege.

other alters do actually phrase it as "the body is a cane user/disabled"*, but i also use a cane in headspace and this is my personal blog, hence the more personal language of "cane user"

*one of our cis alters phrases it like this too↓

TLDR: what im trying to say is that its not a phrase trying to induce separation, its a phrase that binds to every single alter in the system

[losingitinjersey]

Happy due date, Aug! 

As you can see from the pictures, Erp and Aug met each other for the first time at the hospital!  My mom brought Erp over with her (you can tell she was dressed by her with the huge bow and fancy shoes) and it was SO GREAT to see my girl again!!  I’ve never had this much time away from her and I couldn’t get enough of her hugs and cuddles.  She was curious but cautious of her sister but continued to share her toys and books with her!  Although, every time Aug cried, Erp would shrink into herself and start crying as well, crawling into my arms for comfort.  My heart!  

On Friday at noon, 53 hours of being in the hospital and sitting in that increasingly uncomfortable bed, we were all packed up, dressed and ready to be discharged only to learn that Aug didn’t pass her hearing test on her left ear.  We were told we had to stay for four more hours for her to retake the test.  Defeated, disappointed and worried, we tucked in, napped and waited out those hours only to have her not pass a third time.  The hospital pediatrician wasn’t worried and said we’d just need to follow up with an audiologist in 4 to 6 weeks to see what’s going on.  By 6 p.m. that night, 59 hours in total at the hospital, we were finally on our way back home.  

We’ve now had over 24 hours at home with all five of us (my mom, Kevin, Erp, Aug and myself) and, I gotta say, I’m SO happy to be out of the hospital and adjusting to life at home.  

The first night at home (Friday the 13th) was rough.  I was emotionally and physically exhausted, desperate to create and cling to a routine that made sense.  But since Aug needs to feed every three hours (from the start of the feeding, and each feeding takes at least 30 minutes), there’s not much time in-between each session.  Kevin asked me if we could supplement with formula to give myself time to rest and not being responsible for each feeding but I refused.  Sure, my milk hasn’t come in yet but I wanted to do it all myself and work hard at feeding and getting my supply going through all the feedings.  I got maybe two hours sleep the first night.  

On Saturday morning, Kevin, Aug and I drove the hour and a half to our pediatrician in Norfolk to have her check out the babe.  She was very concerned about her weight loss and told us we need to immediately start supplementing with formula.  Like, had to do a bottle right there in the office in front of her and to give her 2oz of formula every three hours on top of breastfeeding. We have a follow-up appointment on Monday and Wednesday for weight-checks.  While I was disappointed to hear my girl, who was already a better at breastfeeding than Erp, wasn’t getting enough food.  Since this information was told to me by the pediatrician and not by my husband, I had no qualms about it and just want to make my girl healthy.  

The rest of the day went well.  I was able to nap AND shower!  First time in four days!  I was a new woman!  My mom asked me what she could buy me as a small gift of celebration - if I wanted a cake or ice cream or something.  Hands down, totally asked for a big dinner from Jersey Mike’s sub sandwiches.  Best decision ever.  That night my hormones got the best of me when my mom and Kevin decided to prioritize my sleep over everything else and basically sent me to bed at 9:30 p.m. telling me not to get back up until my shift at 6 a.m.  Oh, and also, that Kevin wanted Aug to try to sleep in her crib in the nursery with Erp (in her own crib) that night.  That decision was something I wasn’t ready to process and I tail-spinned from there.  I knew my hormones and lack of sleep were getting the best of me as I desperately tried to explain my feelings and try to help out more. Eventually, I just went to bed and hoped for the best, trusting my husband and mom were capable and just trying to do the best thing for me (even though *I* thought the best thing for me was to help out more, not sleep). (Also, the room sharing only lasted maybe five minutes before Aug started crying and needed to be removed from the room).  

Day three at home, Sunday/today, has been amazing so far.  Even though I was awake for two hours during the night, I did get a total of six hours and had a really great morning solo with Aug.  This was probably the most time she and I have spent one-on-one with each other and it was so needed.  I woke up at 6, by 6:30 I was breastfeeding her, by 7 I was feeding her a bottle.  By 7:30 she was down for a nap and I was pumping.  By 8 I got Erp up and loved having a solo morning with her, it was so good for us both!  By 8:30 I was finally able to make myself a delicious breakfast of avocado toast, fried eggs and french pressed coffee.  My mom was up at the same time so she was entertaining Erp while I got to eat in peace.  It was just the morning I needed.  Having that time with both girls one-on-one, but also at times together and having everything go well was so healing. 

Oh, and on top of everything else mentioned above, my feet have become horribly swollen thanks to the 3L of IV fluid pushed through my body and my face is incredibly puffy.  The breastfeeding cramps are brutal this time around and my nipples hate me. Desperately looking forward to a few weeks from now when, hopefully, my body has recovered more.  

Looking forward to continuing to find peace in structure and creating a routine that works well for us all.  While my free time is few and far between (especially when you throw in a very needy/grouchy cat into the mix who’s horribly being neglected despite my best efforts), I continue to find bright moments of joy in this new world of parenthood.  

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Oooooohhh

For bad things happen bingo, could I request 'dragging themself along the ground' for an injured and sick male Supervillain, and him being found by a female hero who saves him despite being an enemy?

Yes I can!

Muddy Rain

@badthingshappenbingo

Warnings: intense descriptions of injuries, broken bones (ribs, legs, collarbone), implied concussion, fever, intense descriptions of vomit, left in a ditch, drugged with painkillers (morphine), headaches, delirium, loss of consciousness, mentions of death, mentions of starvation and dehydration, past torture, IVs, needles

~

Supervillain pulled himself forward once again, dragging his back legs with him, through the thick, black mud. He cried silently, tears mixing with the dirt and blood on his face.

He knew, without anything, not even a mere puddle that he was in bad shape. He could feel the lathering vomit and spit draining from his mouth and onto the front of his ripped up shirt. Mucus and blood from his nose seeped into that same mouth and irritated his cut up lips. He also had a sickening sensation of something sticky running down the side of his face. With his pounding headache, he confirmed that sometime during his torture- most likely one of the recent sessions- his head was smacked.

He wondered briefly if he blacked out at all. Was he ever given that luxury? He didn't know nor remembered.

The rest of his body felt like he was ran over by a semi. He vividly remembered both his legs being broken, that was one of the first pains he received. He also knew that a sledgehammer shattered mutiple ribs and his collarbone.

But the individuality of each injury didn't matter; no, it was the following pain that did.

Supervillain cried as he pulled himself along. He left arm was too weak from exertion, starvation, dehydration, and all that gunk, but his right arm had the broken clavicle.

He couldn't take it anymore. He collapsed on the ground, blackness swarming his vision as he lost consciousness.

He came to, or thought he did. The raging fever was making everything hazy and disoriented. He slowly and shakily brought himself to his arm, pulling himself a couple more feet before he keeled over again.

On the ground, he watched the headlights push through the pouring rain. Weakly, he raised a hand for help, but logic told that no one could see him.

Defeated, he laid his hand down. His head lolled in the mud. Vaguely, he realized he was in a ditch- right where his captors discarded him earlier, right when the rain had started.

He let a couple more tears slip from his eyes before once again trying to move. But the sudden movement sent a dizzying rush through his head and he nearly tumbled over again. But he dug his fingers into the cold ground and held fast, though the cars on the highway sent a nauseating feeling of vertigo through his being.

He didn't possess the strength to lurch forward and vomit, so he endured the painful stomach convulsions and allowed the puke to stream out of his mouth. He sucked in his stomach in an attempt to atleast keep it away from his shirt, but the effort was too momental and used too much precious energy. The majority of the vomit fell on his chest.

He sighed and tried to step foward. He prevailed, broken and bent legs painfully going over a rock. He cried out hoarsely, looking at the headlights once again. How he wanted just one of them to pull over and gather him in warm arms so he could sleep peacefully without a care in the world.

He shivered, feeling a chill run down his spine. He would get hyperthermia soon, pass out, then die. Atleast it would be painless.

His arms supporting him gave out and he crumbled to the ground. How many times has he fallen over? How many times has his body pleaded with his will to give up? Countless.

"Help," he murmured weakly, though it was in vain. If the cars couldn't see him, then how could someone hear him in the pounding rain.

But, a delirious mindset made him to it- a faux hope that someone, anyone, would save him before he died. Blackness coated his already dimmed and blurred vision, threatening to take hold again. Smiling, barely lifting his lips, he closed his eyes, only for them to shoot open with a loud, blasting noise.

He slowly, blinked his eyes open, dizzy with a headache, and looked at the scene above him. A car, a car, was pullled over, headlights shining directly on his soaked body. He lifted his head, but it swayed mid-air, so he dropped it into the mud again.

A humanoid shape sauntered over to him, holding a light. It pierced his eyes, sending an aching throb to his head, but he kept them open, desperate to see his savior.

"Sir? Are you okay?" The person was a girl, nervous voice elevated in pitch. Supervillain didn't reply. Unconsciousness was already trying to pull him under again.

"Do I need to call an ambulance? Oh gosh, you have a bone popping out of your leg. Yes, ambulance. Where's my phone..."

"No!" Supervillain exclaimed, lurching forward, hand extented weakly. "Please, don't," he begged, voice quivering.

"Oh my gosh. Supervillain?" The person asked, she crouched down to get a better look at his face. Supervillain let his head flop downwards, hoping it counted as a nod.

His eyes fluttered shut, blackness encassing him. The last thing he heard before he fully lost consciousness was, "Supervillain, hey bud. Stay with me. Oh my gosh stay with me, please."

Supervillain woke up screaming in pain. Everything hurt from his head to his legs and everything in between. He thrashed his head around, completely unaware of the new surroundings.

"Stop!" He cried, shrieking. To him, his world was a mass fury of agony and memories of torture. He rolled to his side during this outburst, wailing even louder when he jostled his collarbone.

"Help!" He screamed, pounding his fists into the ground. No this was soft- mattress.

He was being tortured in bed, he realized trying to pull away from his fantasy.

"Hey, hey."

Words.

Supervillain screamed again as he tried to shrink away from them. His captors always spoke to him.

Hands grabbed at his biceps, thrusting him flush against the bed. He whimpered, ducking his chin into his chest to dodge the inevitable backhanded slap.

"You need to stay still, buddy, okay? The morphine isn't working," the words spoke again. Supervillain sniffled, feeling an uncomfortable rattle in his chest. He wheezed, throat suddenly itchy.

One hand trailed down to his elbow. Suddenly, he was very aware of the small discomfort in it. A needle and bandages.

Soon, he heard a click and a cool sensation flooded his veins. He groaned, blinking open his eyes, and looked down at his elbow. Through his blurry vision, he could just make out a white wrap around his elbow and a line leading to a bag hanging from a metal stand.

He stiffened as another wave of pain hit.

"I know," the voice said. "Painkillers aren't working."

But they are, Supervillain thought as his eyelids drooped. They didn't take away his pain, but gave him this almost overwhelming sense of euphoria as he slowly drifted off.

"Yeah, bud, you rest," the voice said. A hand ruffled through his hair, then everything faded into nothingness.

But, before he truly passed out, a single thought infiltrated his drugged mind,

The voice sounded like Hero's.

[yolkyeomie]

Ice Fairies | Hwang Hyunjin

summary — figure skaters are like ice fairies to you, and hyunjin is the prettiest fairy you’ve ever seen

word count — 2.7k words

pairing — hyunjin x gender neutral!reader

genre — figure skater!hyunjin, fluff, mc kinda pines after hyunjin but doesn’t rlly realize it

disclaimer — I actually know nothing about ice skating and ive been writing this since the moment I woke up so if it’s bad + inaccurate I’m so sorry

You had always enjoyed watching figure skaters be in their natural element, it was something about the way they skid across the ice that made you think that there was just something a little… inhuman about them.

If you were to describe what you believe they were, you say they were like fairies. The way figure skaters glittered in the reflection of the ice and the way they glided as if they had wings sprouting it from their back to fly was enough for you to think they were. But that was only from what you had seen on television. You had never seen a figure skater in person because it was wildly out of your own element to do so. And then a few months ago happened.

One day a stranger strolled into your town. It wasn’t an unlikely sight, your town was a frequent resting place for travelers. But the thing about the stranger is that when they strolled into town they didn’t feel like a stranger. In fact, they felt like they belonged. That’s something I’ve been missing in your town and the stranger had suddenly filled up the gaping hole you didn’t know needed to be filled. You thought you were just being delusional, there is no way such a strange person could make you feel this way? A person you’ve never seen in your life?

But then on a very chilly, very quiet winter day you decided to take a walk to your job. You don’t know what inclined you to do so, the weather was close to being unbearable and the ice and snow were thick on the ground from the snow storm before. But you did anyways as if you were challenging mother nature to try and stop you.

When you walk to your unbearable nine to five, there is a big lake that’s usually within your sights then. Because of the conditions beforehand it had turned into this icy winter wonderland, where the water was frozen solid and hard enough for people to walk across. It wasn’t unusual to see parents taking their bundle of children to go skating across it for fun family bonding, or see teenagers push each other towards the slick frozen over waters, so you paid no mind to it at first. But on your walk you saw something... different.

There was the stranger rhythmically moving his feet left and right, his jet black ice skates kicking up little chips and the frozen lake. He wasn’t wearing much to protect himself from the cold: just a throw on jacket and what looked to be sort of loose fitting pants. And don’t forget the low ponytail he wore his blonde hair in, the most recognizable of his lazy attire.

Why you thought he was going to freeze to death out on the lake at first.

Your brain had started functioning on its own, making decisions you weren’t fully comprehending when they happened. Before you know it, instead of being on your path to your boring nine to five, you were sliding down the side of the hill, careful not to let the snow trip you up, and calling out to him to make sure he was okay. When you had finally made it to the edge of the lake, your feet threatening to tip over and slide across its slick surface, he took notice of you. And then he jumped.

Looking back on it now, it was such a simple thing to do. But it left you in complete awe nonetheless.

Your eyes widened in pure disbelief as you watched him go from gliding with careful foot steps backwards to kicking one foot off the ground and forcefully raising the rest of his body into the air. For a moment you thought he was hovering in time, as if that one movement had stopped the flow of gravity just for him to levitate off the ice for a moment. And then in a slow motion-esqe manner you watched as he spun once in the air and then came back down landing perfectly on the same foot he started with.

A single axel, you recognized. One of the first things a figure skater learns when indulging in the sport. It looks so simple when you look at it from an outside eye but somehow it was enough to plunge you down into a world of wonder that you don’t even know you wanted to be in.

From that interaction, that's how you came to know wild and eccentric, Hwang Hyunjin. The new rising star and fan favorite within the figure skating world, and the owner of several gold medals that newbies don’t usually own. You knew that because he wouldn’t stop telling you once he got the chance. As clueless yet endearing his personality and perfectionist tendencies were, you two hit it off almost immediately. You don’t know whether it was because you like the fact that he was a figure skater, something you used to have a huge interest, or you liked him as a person but either way you two had gotten close enough for him to invite you to things outside of your little town.

One of those things, however, you did not expect to be attending one of the biggest figure skating competitions of his life.

Come with me, he said, it’ll be fun! I can show you how professional I get and how easy it is for me to win.

How it convinced you to join him on a cross-country trip is completely out of your mind. However it’s too late to go back on your words as now you were here at his competition standing on the sidelines with full moon like wide eyes looking back-and-forth between everyone who is currently in the room.

There were several other figure skaters here all warming up on the sidelines and getting ready for their performances to impress the judges. Every single one of them within the room were hoping to attend the Grand Prix of figure skating, and this competition was the last thing standing in their way to being able to compete. Despite this important detail though all of the competitors were looking around anxiously, the skin on the back of their neck standing up as they stayed on edge. There was this sense of stress within all of the skaters as the presumed to be new figure skating champion was in the building.

They were scared that no matter how well they went throughout their performance, they would be no match for the long-haired blonde you knew.

“Y/N!” A chirpy voice called out to you, like sunrays wrapped within their tone. You whirled your head around towards them, finally clicking back into the reality that you were here to support and not to gawk.

A boy not that much older than you came skipping up to you, his freckles stretching across his face like strained stars in a telescope’s eye. Lee Felix was a friend of Hyunjin, working and training under the same coach for their competitions. You had only recently met with him just a few days ago when you and Hyunjin had arrived in the city for his competition, but he already proved himself to be such a friendly and honest person that it felt like you had known him for years.

“Felix,” you grin, pushing yourself away from the railing of the ice rink to meet him halfway. Unlike many of the other figure skaters within the room, dressed in sparkly and eye-catching outfits for their performances, he was just as bundled up with warm clothing as you are. It seemed as though he was going to be watching the skaters instead of joining them on the ice for the day. “What are you doing here? Weren’t you supposed to be with your coach and Hyunjin?”

“Usually,” the boy shrugged, moving his hands within the pockets of his puffy jacket. “But I’m not the one competing today, am I? Why would I sit and listen to a lecture about doing my best and aiming for the top when it’s not even aimed at me? Plus it gets boring after awhile.”

You snort at the boy’s excuse, rolling your eyes and turning back towards the ice. “I don’t know, maybe it’s because moral support can take someone a long way?”

“Is it not enough moral support to be standing up and watching from the side lines instead of laying down in my nice, warm, cozy bed? I could be sitting right next to a heated fireplace right now but here I am standing in the cold with no blanket to wrap myself in.” Felix jeered, his eyes looking far off into a world you couldn’t see. But by the expressions on his face you could assume he was fantasizing about the warm bed he had mentioned.

“How can you be an ice skater if the only thing on your mind is a bed and warmth?” You teased.

“Hey! I can’t help the fact that being warm is the best feeling in the universe! Why do you think I like hugs so much? It’s basically just sharing body heat so you won’t be cold,” He argued, wrapping his arms around himself to mimic the gesture. “Let’s not forget the fact that some people also give out the best hugs I’ve ever felt as well.”

You had to conceal the obnoxious laugh that wanted to escape your mouth. Felix was such an endearing person, the way he acts and the way he talks were two completely different things from when he was on the ice. Or at least that’s what Hyunjin told you, but he was known for… overdramatizing things.

“Speak of the devil!” Felix exclaimed untangling his arms from around himself and pointing to the other end of the ice rink. “There’s the star of the day!”

The chitter chatter of the competitors and watchers suddenly began to lower, turning into a low mumble as everyone’s eyes were fixated on the ice skater who had just stepped on the ice to warm up with the feat of the skaters.

Figure skaters are like fairies, you remind yourself. They move across the ice as if they’re flying and they sparkle in the light with a certain ethereal and shimmer to them. You knew this, you’ve always known this about figure skaters. But there was a certain flare about Hyunjin that was simply unmatched by every other competitor in the room.

Maybe it didn’t help with the fact that Hyunjin was already conventionally attractive in your eyes, but seeing him skate across the ice in his costume for his performance was mesmerizing. The way the light bounced across the glittery blue fabric of his ruffled Victorian shirt, or the way the colors of white and blue hues would blend into a beautiful ombré when in combination with his pitch black pants and ice skates. Don’t even get started on how the way the azure blue ribbon tied up in his blond hair gave him just the right amount of purity to make him seem as though he were an angel in the flesh.

Mesmerizing, just mesmerizing.

“Hyunjin!” Felix called, waving his hands to catch the skater’s attention. The boy immediately turned the both of you, a soft smile appearing on his lips as he changed courses and began to glide towards the two of you. The bright lights of the ice rink made him shimmer like stars as he approached and the unorthodox beating of your heart was making it extremely hard to focus on one thing at a time right now. You had never seen him all dolled up and captivating while he was skating before. The best you had ever seen from him was a black skinny jeans and an overpriced on-brand hoodie.

“Felix,” He greeted, his soft smile still unchanging as he dressed his fellow skater. Hyunjin leaned up against the railing for support as his eyes then drifted towards you, adoration swirling within his irises. “Y/N. How do I look? Usually I’m not dressed too flashy but the coach thought this would be a nice change for this particular song.”

“You look nice,” you manage to choke out, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible with the burning hot reds of your ears and your clear flustered face. The figure skater pouted in response to your lackluster compliment, probably expecting a much grander praise from you seeing as this was your first time seeing him dressed in such a way. “What? I told the truth, you look nice.”

“Nothing else? Just nice?” He urged, trying to push another, higher quality compliment out of you. “What about… gorgeous? Ethereal? Bewitching? Exquisite—“

“Nice,” you repeat, absentmindedly running your hands through each strand of blond hair you could reach and gazing at the blue ribbon in his hair. “You look nice.”

“Oh,” Hyunjin nodded, melting into you as you rhythmically brushed your hands through his hair. “Alright, I’ll take that.”

“I did not come here to see you be gross with each other,” Felix chimed in, reminding the two of them that they weren’t alone at the lake in your little town, but in an ice rink filled with people whose eyes were always watching Hyunjin’s every move. The figure skater pushed himself off of the railing, putting a small distance between the two of you as a sheepish laugh escaped his mouth.

You attempted to laugh it off as well, punching Felix in the shoulder with a little too much strength to try and hide the embarrassment. How could you have forgotten that was literally right next to you? What if you slipped up and said something without realizing he was there? What if you acted without realizing everyone’s eyes were constantly on Hyunjin, and because he approached you, you as well?

Stupid Y/N. You’re so stupid, stupid, stupid—

“That’s my que,” Hyunjin gasped as a man spoke over the speakers, his words blasting into everyone’s ears to remind them that the competition would soon begin. You weren’t really paying attention to what was being said, though. Your eyes were too focused on the way the fabric of Hyunjin’s ombré blue and white shirt fit his physique perfectly and the way his hair was fell into perfect shape on his shoulders. “Wish me luck!”

“Get that first place bro,” Felix encouraged him, giving him a hard and strong high five. “Take us to the Grand Prix, I really wanna go to Tokyo this year.”

“That depends,” the figure skater said, turning towards with a shining grin plastered onto his face. “Y/N, do you wanna go to Tokyo?”

“You’re gonna put your whole rookie career on Y/N?” Felix gasped, his eyes widened in disbelief as he looked between the two of you. You don’t blame him for being so caught off guard by Hyunjin’s question, you were just as confused as Felix was.

Your bewildered expression and utter silence wasn’t being taken for an answer as Hyunjin intently looked at you, patiently waiting for you to respond despite the speakers overhead telling all skaters to clear off the ice. After taking a moment to compose yourself, you finally open your mouth to speak. “Hyunjin, you’ve been working towards the Grand Prix final for how long now? You shouldn’t be placing your entire career on—“

“Answer the question,” he interrupted. “Do you want to go to Tokyo with me?”

“Yes,” You finally answer him. “I would like to go to Tokyo with you.”

It was like your answer gave Hyunjin a sudden boost of motivation, his smile going from ear to ear and his eyes turning into little crescent moons as he began to shift to and fro on the ice. “Alright then,” He nodded, kicking himself backwards to go and join the rest of the skaters who were simply waiting for the boy to step off the ice. As he skated backwards, hands behind his back and his ice skates kicking up little chunks of ice, he kept eye contact with you and called out. “I’ll make sure I’ll take you to Tokyo, Y/N! And I’ll win the gold medal just for you!”

“Of course, you will!” You tell after him as he turned around. “You’re obligated to win me the gold medal because you brought me all the way here without telling me! Your gold medal is my gold medal!”

[curly-bangtan]

A Drop of Heaven IV: Unravelling

[Series Masterlist]

Pairing: ot7 x reader // this chapter: Yoongi x reader, Seokjin x reader

Series summary: Seven vampires have secretly been roaming the darks of your world for millennia. Each brother selects a Feed who becomes supernaturally bound to him, whose blood will be fed on until their inevitable mortal death. They have spent their eternity hunting for the exorbitant rarity that is angel blood - the most heavenly of food for vampires that fuel them with desire, lust and satiety. So what happens when they all find you, the first angel-blooded being they’ve encountered in two centuries?

Genre: vampire au, poly au, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (e2l)

Warnings in this chapter: mentions of blood drinking, depression and suicidal thoughts, slightly gruesome, probably a lot of confusion, plot heavy chapter

Word count: 11.1k

A/N: I’m not sure if it’s just me but I feel like my writing style for this series has kind of shifted, so apologies if you don’t like the change. Thank you for being so patient with this update, I know it took forever, but I hope it was worth the wait! ❤︎

[prelude, i, ii, iii, iv, v, vi, vii, epilogue]

❦

They say that humans are immensely adaptable creatures. In the face of a drastic change, when thrust into a foreign environment, we possess a biological plasticity that allows us to mould into our novelle surroundings, no matter how alien. All for the purpose of survival. Humans are resilient. Humans survive.

You have survived, and you keep on surviving.

A week has passed. Almost in a flash, yet also agonisingly slowly. But in your memory, all the feeding has merged into a blur. Every time a pair of fangs sink into you, you’ve come to switch off your mind completely. You don’t recall where your consciousness has travelled to, you just remember floating in a cold darkness. Stagnant. Void.

On Thursday, broken and hanging on by a thread, you were tossed to Hoseok. The flash of craze in his eyes, despite your gaping wounds that took longer to heal than it should have, even after drinking Yoongi’s blood, managed to instill a droplet of fear in you. But only just.

Because after Yoongi, you no longer know fear.

Still, Hoseok’s insanity is something you’ve never seen before, a wildness exacerbated by the centuries he has lived.

Hoseok looks at you like a brand new toy. When he touches you, you can feel the tremble of excitement beneath his skin. Sometimes, you wonder if he is the worst one of them all, even worse than Yoongi. Because you at least know what the others are thinking. With Hoseok, he speaks to you as if you’ve been acquainted for years, asks how you fare as if he doesn’t know of your suffering. He smiles at you like he means it, and you know he is genuinely happy to see you, but not for the reason you hope for.

“You seem sad…” He had said, staring at you intently as he brushes the sweat-dampened hair out of your face. “Yoongi hurt you?”

Your eyes were transfixed on one spot of the colourful wallpaper of his Feed Room. Your head barely nodded.

You didn’t see his mouth quirk up in amusement, but you could sense it. Hoseok was prodding you, like a zoo animal. Testing your temperament, seeing how broken you are. And you were too tired, too drained to put on a show like the circus monkey he wanted.

“No worries, Y/N, it won’t hurt with me, I promise.” The ghost of his lips traced your shoulder. “We will have so much fun together.” His long fingers prickle your thighs as he pulls you onto his lap. “Just relax and smile for me.”

It had hurt, at least very briefly before you could shut it out. Out of everyone, Hoseok has the least control. He never knows when to stop. Though he wasn’t bleeding you dry just yet, it visibly took him his entire mental strength to cease his drinking. And once he stopped, he began laughing maniacally.

“Sweet Satan, we’re in for a ride.” He kissed around the puncture wound at your collarbone where blood was weeping out of you. You didn’t move or make a sound.

The sire bond hadn’t surfaced at all. But it didn’t need to in order for you to ignore the pain; you’ve grown so accustomed to it by now that you hardly even blink, sire bond or no. You’re afraid of yourself, the lifeless husk you’re becoming.

The scariest aspect of Hoseok is perhaps how quickly he changes his mood after feeding. His ability to act as if he hadn’t just ripped into you, taking your around the house and telling you stories of his adventurous life while you eat, is uncanny. And when you fail to put on a smile for him, because how could you, his eyes would darken, jaw tighten.

“Isn’t that just hilarious? Can you believe I did that back then?” He would ask, and you’re not sure why your entertainment brings him validation.

But for self-preservation, you have learnt to giggle like you’re enjoying yourself and say cheerily, “I know right! That sounds wild!”

And Hoseok would nod madly, giddy from your approval, acting blind to your ingenuity as if he hadn’t forced the response he wanted out of you.

That was your Thursday.

.

Jimin was a salve, a soothing balm over your hidden wounds.

You no longer care whether his affection towards you is genuine. Beggars can’t be choosers, you’ll take any kindness where it is doled. It’s funny because, amidst suffering, amidst torture, you are able to resist the floods of tears that should be completely justified in your predicament. Yet as soon as someone shows the remotest care towards you, you feel the ocean pushing against your brick walls, threatening to rupture the dam.

It wretched your heart how tender Jimin was with you. You had almost broken down in his arms when he brushed over the skin where Yoongi and Hoseok had torn into. Your wounds are invisible. Vampire blood hides your cuts under fresh new skin, but doesn’t truly heal them. Yet Jimin had managed to sense your scars nonetheless.

He kissed them softly. You knew he wanted to kiss your mouth too, yet he didn’t. Is this what respect feels like?

Thus, you were completely willing when he fed on you. His preferred feeding spot is the inside of your thighs. When his cold breath arrived there, you could have sworn you felt something flutter in your core.

You had wanted him. You’re embarrassed to admit but you want him. Completely on your own accord, as the sire bond had also failed to lock in place with him too. You wondered if it was the damage Yoongi had done…

But then Saturday came, and the moment Taehyung’s fangs touched your flesh, you were swept away.

At first, it felt like drowning, as you struggled against the formidable waves that would not let you resurface. But then you calmed, a serenity took hold of you, and you began floating in the most soothing, clear blue water. The water healed you, almost, as you just drifted there on your back, watching the star-splatted night sky.

Taehyung swam up beside you, those sharp fangs of his never withdrawn, a wolfish yet reassuring smile, telling you it’s okay, everything will be okay, I can make you feel good.

And he did make you feel good.

The one thing you crave the most in this world is affection, you’ve come to learn. With Yoongi, you had wanted to feel something so badly, something other the numb wreckage of your mind you had trapped yourself in. Except he had made you feel worse, worthless, self-loathing just like him. With Hoseok, you were a broken doll, smile when expected to, laughing when required. You weren’t a person. With Jimin, you had been too grateful for his tenderness to function, unable to comprehend how, for once in the longest time, someone is treating you as if they care about you.

With Taehyung, you grew desperate to cling onto this intimacy.

It was like a drug, flooding your mind with peace and euphoria, drinking him in as much as he is drinking you. His kisses felt unhealthily good, and they tricked you into thinking that you’re worthy of someone like Taehyung, someone so beautiful, so intoxicating. He fucked you like he was making love to you, but also not. It came as waves - his sweetness, then his ferality.

You couldn’t get enough of it. You know it’s no good to feel so attached, when he probably sees you as no more than an object, his meal, but you couldn’t help it. You were just so desperate for that feeling of being desired.

He promised to make you feel good, make you forget, and that he did.

You hadn’t known what to expect from Jungkook. As you sat, waiting, on the bed of his Feed Room on Sunday, you pondered Jin’s words of his past.

He was a bright star once, before this curse. And even after, he had fed on humans once. The curiosity gnawed at your brain, pleading to find out what had happened.

Jungkook never showed up.

And so you slept the day and night away, replenishing your health with soup that Seokjin delivered, until you woke up and the cycle continued once more.

.

You watch the round dewdrop roll off the viridescent green leaf, and splatter onto the cold white tile. The greenhouse has soon become one of your favourite places to pass time. The walls of that manor are suffocating.

The faint sound of a piano whispers into your ears. You shut your eyes, appreciating the beauty of the pieces as it plays flawlessly. You wonder who is pouring out their emotions to the ebony and ivory sisters.

The glass of the greenhouse is fogged by the dawn dew, shielding you from the world outside and those who wish to take from you. Almost smiling, you pace around the kingdom of plants, enjoying the tranquility. Today is Thursday; Hoseok allows you to do as you please after he feeds on you; though it could be of his genuine good intent, you suspect it’s to instill you with a false sense of freedom. Let the dog out of its cage, let her roam their land, so the bitch never seeks to leave the house.

The thought of escaping had crossed your mind a profusion of occurrences the past week. Though, at this very moment, you don’t think there is much purpose in leaving anymore. Here, you at least are provided food and shelter, and maybe one or two friends whose friendship comes with a price. It’s not living in here, you’re merely surviving. But you’re surviving nonetheless. Compared to out there, where you’d be left to fend for yourself, constantly fleeing from seven vampires who you’re eternally bonded to.

You’ve thought about killing yourself too. A coward’s way out, but hey, you’d rather be a coward than a blood bag for the rest of your life. But when you had snuck into the kitchen last night after Yoongi’s heartless torment and raised a knife to your chest, an invisible force had pushed against your arms, freezing them in place and preventing them from taking action.

The sireship is so cruel. It humanises the vampires who captured you, makes you empathise with them, and forbids you from harming yourself.

On deeper thought, you wouldn’t have been able to kill yourself that way anyway. The moment your blood is spilled, in a house full of vampires, at least one of them is bound to smell it right away. They would have healed you before the pain could kick in - their way of sweeping everything under the rug nowadays - and you would’ve been back to the start. Except worse, as they would then know of your intention.

You crouch down beside a rose bush, petting its velvet white petals between your fingers. Flowers are beautiful yet fickles things, but roses have thorns. They lure people in with their beauty, but if anyone tries to pluck them off and keep one for themselves, they get cut. Your fingers travel down its stem to where a thorn is staring enticingly back at you.

You push the pad of your finger into its prick, hard. You don’t feel a thing. Not even as a bead of crimson oozes from the cut. It’s chilling.

Then you sense a presence behind you. When you turn, your eyes meet with those of Namjoon. Watering pot in one hand, he watches you, brows furrowed at your previous act.

“What are you doing?” There’s a hesitancy in his voice, almost as if he doesn’t recognise you.

“Admiring the roses.”

You no longer speak to Namjoon in that defying tone of yours. He was right, there’s no use in challenging him, trying to topple his superiority complex. It only took a week to tame you into a docile creature. You’re ashamed.

“No, I mean why did you purposely touch the thorns like that?” Still frowning, he stomps over, water in his gardening can sloshing about. As he sinks down beside you, his air of intimidation infiltrates your peaceful bubble.

“I… I don’t know, I just wanted to know what it feels like.” You mumble. Setting the pot aside, Namjoon snatches your finger and brings it close to his face for examination.

“Well, it was obviously going to cut you.” He hisses. When his nostrils flare, you know the scent of your blood is vastly tempting him.

“I know.” You pull your finger away, not that you don’t trust his self control, but because his touch was beginning to scald. The bond was trying to take hold of you despite it not being the day where you belong to him, and you hate how drawn you are to him because of it.

Spinning away, you stand and begin pacing towards the door. Your moment of peace has been disturbed, there’s no point in staying here anymore. But then you hear him call after you, “W-Wait.” The vulnerable expression that greets you when you look back takes you by surprise. “Um… You spend an awful lot of time in here nowadays… How come?”

You hadn’t been aware that Namjoon notices your growing presence in the greenhouse, not since you have never come across him here before. “I like it in here, I feel safe. Why, am I not allowed?” Your question lacks the challenging impudence it should have, more like a young girl asking her father for permission. You’re disappointed in yourself at how quickly you’ve deflated, even at the obnoxious Namjoon. Yet, you’ve lost your drive at standing your ground, you’ve got no fight left.

“N-No!” He is quick to dispute, standing up from his crouch as well. “I just meant… Nevermind.” His voice trails weakly to a tense silence. You watch his eyes flicker up at yours rather nervously, trying to decipher his intention. Then he speaks again, “I’ve just seen you here quite a few times… I enjoy being here myself; I find tending to my plants right before the sun rises fully a therapeutic pastime.”

His admission strikes you. You would never imagine a man as demanding, efficient and severe as Namjoon to enjoy a hobby as mundane as gardening. You’re not sure what to make of it to be honest, nor can you understand why he’s speaking to you so… conversationally. Is this his attempt at making peace with you?

“Well, you’ve tended to them very well, they’re beautiful. I enjoy being here too.” You guess you should accept his decency. He had been rather distant on Monday, leaving you to your own devices, only feeding on you once and hardly speaking a word. His contrasting moods are confusing.

Namjoon’s lips purse, brows raise ever so slightly, as if surprised by your kind response. His eyes flicker to your finger again. The tiny cut has yet to dry, fresh blood still leaking from the open wound despite its miniscule size. You should probably have some food; your body is frail, especially after Yoongi yesterday.

“I’m going to leave you to it, sir.” You nod courteously, but freeze as the name you address him as slips out of you. No, it was drawn out of you from the bond. It doesn’t take a second for heat to rush to your face in embarrassment. Namjoon noticeably stiffens. Gulps.

The coil within you is starting to wind. It tightens around your chest like thorned vines, piercing into your heart the more you try to wriggle free.

You know he feels it too.

But before he can take a step towards you, as you sense he intends to, you’re turning around and speeding out of the greenhouse. And it’s not until you’re within the confines of Hoseok’s Feed Room that you feel the liberty to breathe again, Namjoon’s sire bond reluctantly waning into the background.

.

You could tell something was off about Hoseok straight away when he entered the room. There were multiple telltale signs.

One: He was stumbling over his feet, tripping over to the bed in a drunken manner as he navigated the room. His words were slurred, hardly coherent sentences at all. His wine red hair in disarray.

Two: He smelled noticeably different. Though you’ve not spent more than two days as his feed, Hoseok has a clear distinct smell, most notable from the other vampires. He smells clean, sweet even; it’s the one thing you can’t help but indulge in about him. Yet even to your human nose, he had a weird, doggish musk to him as he approached you.

Three: From his rogue smile dribbled drying blood. And no, it wasn’t a mere droplet of crimson, he was drenched in blood, chin to toes. Despite the gore you’ve witnessed, it was still a chilling sight.

And four: Though his eyes were half shut, you briefly saw the way they flashed beneath his lids. Only half conscious, the other half gone and crazed, though full of purpose - purpose to get to you.

You catch him in open arms as he falls onto you, the mattress dipping at the sudden crash of his weight. “Hoseok, what happened?” Your voice harbours more concern than you would like to show, and you don’t know why you care at all.

His face presses against the crook of your neck, his lips stretching into a smile at your presence, right over your pulse. His hands wander to your waist, pulling you into his embrace. You recoil from his forwardness, but with nowhere to back away to except further into the bed. You try to ignore how pleasant the tip of his nose feels as it rubs against your skin.

“Missed you…” Hoseok mumbles, still grinning widely, mouth travelling to your jaw where his warm breath tickles. His breath should be cold; the heat tells you that the feeding of whoever’s blood this was recent.

You can’t help but feel flustered at his sudden touchiness. Of all vampires here, save for Jungkook, you would say you’ve been the least… intimate with Hoseok. It has never been your dynamic. It was always him flinging you around like a puppy shredding its new stuffed toy then chewing on the spilled cotton. So this is… new.

“Why are you acting like this?” You ask again, trying to pry his arms off your torso but to no avail.

“Sweetness…” He mutters unintelligibly, and you shudder as his teeth grazes your ear, an involuntarily sensual tingle following.

“H-Hoseok…” Your breath hitches, his proximity growing more and more unignorable. So you grab his face, cheeks cupped in one hand, and shake him for good measure. His closing lids flash open like gradually awakening from slumber, yet still not recovered from his daze. “What happened to you?”

“Werewolves.”

An icy cold settles in your bones. Werewolves. There are such things as werewolves as well. Vampires, witches and werewolves. What other creatures of horror are plaguing your world that you don’t know of? That explains that muttish stench he carries. The blood he’s soaked in… Is it his or theirs? You think you feel slightly sick.

Brushing his hair out of his face, you point his drooping head at you again. “Tell me what happened.”

“Those stupid mutts… picking a fight… Taehyung, Jungkook and I had to put them in their place.” Hoseok begins peeling himself off you, and finally your body is no longer crushed under his. Your hands around him fall to your side idly as you watch him stumble off the bed and head towards the door, though he doesn’t make it two steps before tumbling onto his knees. You hurry after him to catch his upper body before he falls completely onto the ground.

His shoulders in your grip, you try to examine him for any wounds, and though there are some tears in his clothes, the skin underneath has been healed clean. So why? “Hoseok, look at me.” Your voice is urgent, authoritative, it almost has the life it once had to it. His eyes lock onto yours, this time permanently without closing. They’re blank, the amber green murky with an unreadable shroud. “What’s wrong with you? You need to tell me.”

So with obvious effort, he grunts out, “Werewolf blood makes us… It’s like… wine to us. Too much and our mind is” hiccup “inebriated.”

Oh. You let out a sigh of relief.

Hoseok is drunk on werewolf blood.

Though, you’re not sure why you’re relieved that he’s alright. Surely you should be wishing for the opposite.

With tremendous endeavour, you drag him up onto his feet and walk him to the ensuite bathroom, huffing as you sit him down on the edge of the lavish bathtub that every Feed bathroom contains but you have yet to use. Hoseok is uncooperative, trying for detours on the bed, attempting to hop onto the sink. With the knowledge of his intoxicated state now, he appears like a little child, an innocently fascinated smile constantly plastered on his face, too easily impressed by even his own reflection in the mirror. For you, it’s a contrasting sight. Though he has always possessed a child-like temperament in his playfulness and love to goof at silly things, his usual underlying insanity is nowhere to be found right now.

It makes his company more soothing knowing that his mind absolves of any ulterior motive.

You don’t know why you’ve taken it upon you to do so, but you rummage around to find a clean towel. Glancing at the mirror as you twist the faucet to dampen the towel, you try not to notice how you scarcely recognise yourself anymore.

Hoseok groans at the wet coldness you press onto his chin, the dried crusted blood once again watering into a river of rusty brown-red. His fingers fly up to catch yours, trying to pry the scrubbing towel off his face. “Mmmm.” He whines in protest, shut eyes frowning. You ignore his brewing tantrum, towel travelling down to absorb the red stains of his neck, though you clean with more gentleness now.

He isn’t so bad like this, you guess.

Still, the more you try to understand him, the more you lose yourself in the maze that is his psyche. The more you think you can predict him, the more he comes out with an unexpected complexity that adds another layer to his mask. Who is Hoseok? The entertainer, the mood maker, always seeking to please his guests? The little boy who wishes not to be tamed? The spoilt brat whose greed grows with the more he has? Who is he really?

You straighten and regard his state. Head drooping sluggishly, fingers fidgeting at anything in his reach, you realise a cold towel isn’t going to help him. You’re all too familiar from the nights your uncle stumbled back, the reek of alcohol finding you before he enters the room, to know that this state of inebriation needs to be conquered before he falls asleep, lest you wish to face an ill-tempered brute the next day.

“Hoseok.” You tap his jaw lightly, rousing him, and he looks at you with surprising focus that makes you cower a little. “You should shower.”

He blinks sleepily, and you think he doesn’t comprehend at first, but then he takes your hand in his and stands up. As he does, his face zooms dangerously close to yours, pointy tip of his nose a hair’s breadth away from brushing your lips. Your heart jumps. There’s a lag in your brain before you know to step back.

“Come with me, then.”

It’s evident that his whole demeanour has shifted. Gone is the childish giddiness he had. In its place: a solemn gravity, seemingly out of nowhere, his lips pressed into a taut line, jaw tense, a pinning glare possessing you unwaveringly. Even his voice has dropped deeper, forgoing its tangy cheer.

It takes more than a second for what he means to sink in. He wants you to join his shower.

“W-What? No!” You yank your hand from his, heat blooming across your cheeks.

At this point, you’re no prude, intimacy has been breached with several if not most of these vampires you share a roof with. Yet your dynamic and circumstance with each of them differs greatly. With Yoongi, it is a release of mutual resentment; Taehyung, it’s a seductive dance to pleasure you both; Namjoon, a reluctant magnetisation that you wish not to dwell on; Seokjin, a confusion of emotions and desperation; Jimin, a soft gentle healing. There has always been a sexual implication hinting at the back of your mind with these five, and with some, you’ve acted upon it. But never with Hoseok.

Because Hoseok has been too much of an enigma. Never once showing that type of attraction towards you, only a fascination that sits on the borderline of lunacy. Always just - ogling at you like you’re a show pony, marveling at the taste of your blood as if it’s a drug. And the confusion he inoculates when he acts as your friend, like he genuinely enjoys your company. Too baffling.

But right now, this very evening, something stirs in your stomach. A new sensation as another layer of him is peeled back to reveal yet another persona. A man desiring affection?

He looks at you for a while, as if he wants to say something. The absence of the smile that usually stalks his lips every moment of the day is throwing you off. You think he’s going to push further but he doesn’t, he simply tilts his head and says, “Suit yourself, sweetheart.”

Legs still rather wobbly, he makes his way, hand on the gold marble of the sink to balance his wavering weight, towards the shower. Standing there, stupefied at his sudden change, you don’t realise that he does not intend on waiting for you to leave before striping until he tears his blood-drenched shirt off crudely. Buttons fly towards the wall, scattering about in little clinks.

Faint scar-like marks dart across his back like a violent painting.

You’re transfixed. The light lines are not ridged, merely running smoothly on the surface of his skin. Some look like claw marks, some bite marks seemingly from an animal. Those werewolves he mentioned? Some look fresh, while others older.

But that doesn’t make sense. Why does he, a vampire with supernatural healing, have scars?

“So do you want to join or not?” He slurs, face half turned towards you, yet eyes trained low. His profile is striking.

“I- No. Um. I’m going to bed. Bye.” Your eyes immediately fall to the ground. Still incredibly flustered, you spin around and head back to your room, mentally trying to shake off the image of his scar-inflicted back.

At the door, you pause, back still facing him, and ask, “Will you be fine alone?”

You hear the whirl of his belt being pulled out, blood continuing to roar in your ears.

“I’ve been alone all these centuries - I think I’ll be fine.”

That’s not what you meant, but when you hear his zipper, you hurry to shut the door behind you, pondering the sourness of his reply.

.

His shower is quick, the water sounds stop not too long after you climb into bed. Though, Hoseok stays in the bathroom for a period of time before coming out. You debated going in to check in on him incase he has fallen unconscious or something of that sort, whatever werewolf blood does to vampires. But you weren’t sure if he would be dressed, so you stay tucked under the covers in a small huddle, quietly trying to dissect his character in your head.

The door eventually opens, though it doesn’t swing open as Hoseok normally does to announce his entry. He’s still in that odd sombre mood.

Lying on your side, curled up into a small lump, your back is facing him. Eyes shut yet wide awake, you hear a drop of water hit the floor every few seconds. You can’t resist the urge to look up, to see whether he has washed away the blood and intoxication.

But at the sight of his naked body, manhood only covered by the towel hanging loosely around his waist, you nearly roll off. Though his skin is mostly dry, there is still a lustre glossed over his unearthly sculpted body. The room is dark, his silhouette cast by the bathroom lights behind him. Despite the poor vision, you are mesmerised by the ridges of his abdomen, chiseled so perfectly that you wonder how they feel like beneath your touch. A defined V is carved on his pelvis, pointing down to a devilish place you’re glad the darkness doesn’t allow you to see.

You catch sight of his hand that is bunching up the towel loosen, just in time for you to swing back down into your foetal position away from him before you hear the cloth drop carelessly.

Is he purposely trying to tizzy you?

Your eyes close firmly as he paces to the dresser, and they stay that firmly closed while you hear him dress, hear the bathroom lights click off.

You jolt when you feel the pressure on the other side of that mattress, your knees curling up tighter, inconspicuously inching further away. To your relief, as he climbs into bed, he keeps his distance, doesn’t reach for you like you were scared he would.

The silence hums loudly, rhythmed by his shallow breaths. Is he finally sober?

No sound. Not a word. For Hoseok, that’s worrying.

Damn yourself, why do you care? “Are you feeling better?” You almost bite your tongue as you ask, cursing your inability to keep to yourself. At least you don’t turn to face him.

Silence, still. Steady breaths.

You begin to wonder if he fell asleep the second his back sunk onto the mattress. It wouldn’t be a surprise.

But then you hear the lightest sigh. “Feeling less drunk, but head still pounding. Dizzy.”

You’re unaccustomed to the deepness of his voice, wondering where its usual loud annoying cheeriness has strayed off to. You don’t want to say you miss it, you certainly don’t. You just… grew so used to it.

This version of Hoseok is too human. It’s uncanny.

Despite laying there in silence, it doesn’t feel silent at all. The tension is blaringly loud in the air, almost a physical pressure pushing up against you, goading you to do something. Turn around and face him. Let him feed on you to replenish. But no, he’s fed a lot today already. Your collar still feels sore. Find another vampire and ask them to cure him. But at this time of day, where the sun is already almost completely uncovered, they should all be asleep. Then at least talk to him, something, before he resumes back to his normal self that you have to cower from.

“What are those scars on your back?”

Your voice startles him. Though you can’t see well, you notice him jolt. Was that too much to ask? Too personal? And honestly, do you actually want to know the truth to your question or would you sleep much sounder without it?

He doesn’t answer.

Instant regret. You count your breaths, shut your eyes and try not to be hyper-aware of short the distance of an arm’s length actually is between your back and his side.

You shouldn’t have asked that. Of course it would be a sensitive topic. What else could explain the literal scars on his back that have failed to heal even with his supernatural abilities?

There is a line drawn between you and Hoseok. There are boundaries, though some particularly vague and hazy, between you and each vampire, but the line is especially distinct with him. You have to remember, you can’t act the same as you do with Seokjin or Taehyung with someone like Hoseok or Yoongi. He’s not your friend. None of them are your friends, really. Hoseok, one of the least of all.

Who knows what psychological trigger you’ve switched on by asking such question? Curiosity did kill the cat afterall.

“They…” It’s your turn to jounce, his response unexpected. “I don’t know, I guess there’s a limit to what my abilities can heal, and to be honest, I like the look of them anyway. I think there’s a word for it, but my mind isn’t working properly… M-something. Ma- You know, the opposite of sadism.”

You know.

“Masochism…?”

“Yeah, that. Masochism.”

The room goes quiet after he mutters the last syllable of a word you would never anticipate to be his answer. Hoseok is a masochist? He enjoys pain inflicted onto him? If it were even possible for your blood to go colder, you feel a chill spear through your veins.

Fuck, these vampires are dark. And you thought you were morbid…

“Why…?” So Hoseok is at the opposite of the spectrum from Yoongi. You vaguely understand Yoongi, how he lashes out due to self hatred. It’s a cycle of pushing people away due to fear of intimacy from his loneliness, and as a result feeling more alone. He likes to inflict pain because that way, he can convince himself that he’s an unlovable monster, and pretend that he is choosing to be alone. But with Hoseok, you cannot fathom how or why he enjoys pain. How could anyone? “If you don’t mind me asking…”

You’re tempted to turn, eye contact is human nature, but you don’t think you can stomach it. There is an inexplicable weight, an intensity bestowed. You feel as though you’re sinking in quicksand, a slow agonising submergence, swallowed up by the burden you’re seeking to know about but can’t resist.

“It’s so boring, living like this.” He mumbles. You hear him rustle around to get comfortable, or maybe to inch closer to you. “We’ve been alive for more than two thousand years. Life begins to get rather insipid, nothing really... stimulates me anymore. Yeah, fight with demons, get wasted on werewolf blood, sure, pretty fun.” Hiccup. “But after so many years, you start to not really feel anything anymore.”

Truthfully, you think you get it. You get his inertia, the lack of anything exciting him about life.

“Like yeah, I know how you see me. I’m this over-the-top, dramatic class clown caricature, so you probably won’t believe me when I tell you about how bored I actually am. But I am.” hiccup

“So pain is your remedy?”

“I guess, yeah, pain is my remedy. You know that feeling when your skin gets cut, that rush of cold that infiltrates you?” Unfortunately, all too well. “It’s pretty exciting. There’s no feeling like it.” hiccup “It’s just so refreshing, to be able to feel somewhat mortal. Get torn apart a little, because I know I’ll stitch back up together anyway. It’s the only thing that brings me thrill nowadays. Before we found you.”

“What if you don’t?” Vampires are immortal, but not invincible afterall.

“Then I guess I don’t.”

Hoseok says it with a finality, as if death is no big ordeal to him. If it happens, it happens. He’s not self-destructive perse, you know he isn’t actively looking to die. He just wants to feel something. Like you.

Yeah, you think you get it…

Despite the difference in the sufferings you’ve been exposed to, monotony breeds insensitivity to most stimulants of life. Food tastes blander, colours duller, sense of self starts to ebb away. Hoseok had been a cheerful man before becoming a vampire, one requiring extravaganza in his life, flamboyance, because his life was a show, the embodiment of entertainment. How long did that take to crumble? For him to grow out of parties and parades because he realised that they could no longer fill that void?

The fall from a life of exhilaration to one where you were only passing time is tragic. He puts on a show to convince himself that he’s having fun, imposes it on everyone around him.

You’re beginning to dissect the animus of Hoseok, what truly underlies his insanity.

It’s disconcerting, how much he’s opening up when he isn’t sober. He has kept this in for a while, you can guess.

“Hey…” He slurs sleepily, though you hear his purpose, a sort of determination to stay away and say one last thing. And finally, you turn.

In this darkness, you hardly see a thing more than the shadows cast around him. You can’t see his facial expression, and you think it’s perhaps a good thing; you don’t wish for it to confuse you more. What throws you off is the heat emitted from his body. Vampires are cold creatures, warmth absent in their touch. You try not to think about the werewolf blood still coursing through his veins to keep him warm, how it makes it feel as though a human lays beside you rather than the monster in actuality.

“Yes?”

Your reply falls flat. As your vision adjusts to the pitch black, you are hyper aware of the stillness of the night that encases you.

“I…”

He.

It’s silent. So silent you can hear the thrumming of your chest.

“Yes?” You repeat, egging him on. His hesitancy has a depressive tone to it, it is somehow so genuine, rather than for dramatic effect like one would expect from him.

“I’m sorry.”

Those two words shoot into you like bullets of chaos and disarray, their shells ricocheting. Your ear rings as if deafened by an explosion. Maybe this is a dream. You can’t tell these days anymore.

“I’m sorry for everything.” He sounds throaty, still dragging his words as he tries to grapple at sobriety but fails. He also sounds like he means what he’s saying, like he feels terribly guilty.

You don’t understand.

“What do you mean… Why…?” Your eyes drop to the distance between you, fixing on the shadow of a crease you can barely make out.

“I’m just-” Hoseok tosses onto his side to look at you. You stare at that shadow harder. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“But wh-”

“Every time I look at you, I just want to, I don’t know, shake you. No, not you. Shake myself, or my brothers. I want to shatter some glass, sprint at a wall, I don’t know. I don’t fucking know what I’m saying. But yeah, every time I look at you, I just feel so fucking bad, man. I’ve- I guess I’ve been pretty good at keeping the guilt at bay all these centuries - we kind of have to, or we wouldn’t have survived two thousand years. But like, when I look at you, I can’t forget how much you’ve suffered. That kind of damage scars you forever. I can fucking see that you’re a shell of a person.”

Your throat constricts. You hate this feeling. Not that people have ever pitied you before, seeing as there was no witness of your uncle’s abuse, there was no one to feel sorry for you. But right now, you get it. That wash of humiliation from the small satisfaction you gain from someone pitying you, someone acknowledging how bad you have it, all the shit you’ve been through. It makes you sick.

Yes, you’re damaged. Good that he knows. Good that it tears apart his conscience. You’re glad that it makes him feel horrible.

Then why? You want to ask him. But you know he’s not finished with his piece.

“I see that you try to hide how fucking empty you are when you’re with me, try to act like you’re enjoying my company and actually find my jokes funny. I guess that’s why I keep trying to make you laugh. I know I’m annoying as fuck. Hell, I would hate me if I were anyone but me. But, I don’t know, I just want to stir some reaction from you, make you feel less hollow. I know it fucking sucks for you here, and I want to make it suck less, you know?”

A shiver fires down your spine. You have never thought about it like that.

Drunk words, sober thoughts. Or so the saying goes.

All this time, you thought that Hoseok views you as some sort of dancing monkey, forcing you to perform tricks for him, smiling, laughing, stroking his ego.

But the truth is, he wants to spark some life back into you. His jokes, his stories, his antics. They have been for you, not him.

Your throat trembles.

“All that shit with your uncle, God, it was brutal, even for me. It was the fact that you couldn’t escape from it. You were living through hell for how many years? All because of us. And now you’re stuck here with us, have to continue to endure. It just doesn’t stop for you, does it? And I know it makes no sense coming from me. Especially from me, I guess. You know, I really wish I could control myself. But that sensation that overtakes our minds, I wish I could describe it to you, it’s fucking insane. Your blood tastes like a drug to me, I don’t know, heroin or something. Except it doesn’t kill me, it kills you.” His voice is drifting, quieter, duller, slower. Like he’s mumbling without knowing he’s speaking out loud. The words just keep tumbling out.

Glancing up, you see that his eyes are shut, chest rising heavily, on the brink of sleep. You want him to fall asleep. You don’t want to keep listening. Because it sickens you knowing that buried under all those masks is an emotionally empathetic person, hardly the maniac you thought him to be. Because it would be so much easier if he was that, so much easier to hate your tormentor and see him as a monster.

But actually, he isn’t. He senses your pain, holds remorse for his actions.

You hate it. You hate it.

Just let me believe that you’re pyschopathic.

“Anyway... what I was saying is that…” His head droops to the other side. Sleep will siege him soon, you’re glad to know. “I know I’m a hypocrite. Namjoon would give me hell if he heard me sympathising with the Feed, but I truly mean no malicious intent towards you... This is just the way things are for us…” His breathing slows, deepens. Words only just more than a slur of syllables. You lay there, clutching your fists, waiting for it to be over, but only for you to lie awake and ponder this revelation for hours. “I wish… I wish it didn’t have to be you... after all that you went through. But I guess you only went through that because of what you are… Hurting you was the only way to protect you...”

You don’t even hear it at first, silently contemplating his words. But then the last bit sinks in.

“Wait, wait, what?” You break your silence. Hoseok has stopped making sense, you shouldn’t expect more from a drunken vampire, but he had been making sense before. “What do you mean?”

“What do I mean what?” He mumbles and rolls away, but you grab his sleeve and prevent him from turning and entering a realm of dreams.

“What you said in the end. About how… I don’t know... I went through that shit because of what I am. What do you mean? And hurting me was the only way to protect me.” Your blood has gone icy. You don’t want to be left with nothing but those words and your endless imagination of what they could possibly mean for the next few hours.

“You know, the spell…”

Spell.

“What spell?” But his eyes are completely closed, hardly a stir at your question to indicate he heard you at all. His sleeve bunches up under your fist, you gently rattle his face. “Hoseok, what spell? What are you talking about?”

He tries to shake you off, frowning in annoyance at your disturbance. “You know. That spell, the one to keep you safe.”

“Keep talking about the spell, Hoseok. Please. Safe from what?” You continue to shake him, stomach tying into knots. What spell?

“Safe from us, whatever Creatures of the Night your blood attracts.” Vexed, he grabs your wrist, eyes half opening, and shoves them away. “The spell the angels put, remember?”

“I don’t remember. Tell me about the spell, what was it?” You hear the urgency, the degrading desperation in your voice, but you need to know. You need to. What fucking spell to keep you safe?

“It’s complicated. Some twisted magic? You know that car accident with your parents? That was some Hell’s magic, when the demons started to find you... Angel blood isn’t just valued by vampires. They would’ve taken you if the angels hadn’t been watching closely and intervened. Then they, the angels I mean, decided to shield your aura, you know, your angel aura. The thing that lets the supernatural know that you have angel blood? It’s a distinctive scent for us, and I’m guessing other creatures too. It attracts demons and whatnots and helps them hunt you. It’s like a beacon of light. So they had to suppress your aura. And the only way to suppress angel aura is to suppress the angel themselves. Make them suffer, endure tremendous pain, dull their virtues, make them lose the will to live, et cetera. That way you don’t ‘shine’ anymore, and we won’t be able to find you. So I guess they did some sort of spell, or whatever heavenly magic, on your uncle so that his mind was warped and unconsciously fixated on hurting you... It’s fucking dark and twisted, especially for angels... To protect you from demons by making you suffer so much that you lose the core of your being. To destroy you in order to save you from hell and the creatures from it. That’s what irks me... Don’t know why but it just makes me feel so fucking bad…”

Something churns violently in your stomach. And you would have thrown up if you had eaten much previously.

None of it makes sense. Or maybe it’s starting to make too much sense.

You can’t believe it. You fucking can’t believe it.

You let Hoseok drift off to sleep, the weight of his body falling limp. You let go of his face.

You just can’t. Fucking. Believe it.

There’s no way this is true. He’s drunk. He has made up some story in his head. There’s no way.

Because there’s simply no way that the past few years of your endless torture has been a gift from the angels, a path paved for you to endure. To shield you. To save you.

In what sick universe…

You scramble off the bed and rush into the bathroom, ignoring the loud pads of your feet against the cold wooden floor. Your fingers tremble as you turn the light switch on and slam the door behind you with your back. For a moment, all you hear is the ocean of your roaring blood.

That’s why that night your parent died had felt so strange, so off, your disagreement with your parents so out of the blue. That’s why there was a storm. That’s why a car drove into you and killed your parents. That’s why your grandmother died so shortly after despite normally having great health. That’s why there was a sudden change in your uncle’s demeanour, as if a switch had been flipped in him. That’s why he had locked you in the basement, broke your legs routinely to stop you from escaping, beat you and your sister without reason.

It was demons and Creatures of the Night and a so-called “protection” ploy from angels.

You want to scream. As your back slides down the door, you want to scream at the top of your lungs. The amalgamation of emotions is tearing you apart, piece by piece.

This is it, the tipping point, the loss of your sanity.

His words play over and over again in your head, a drunken confession that he probably did not realise the meaning of in his state.

To protect you from demons by making you suffer so much that you lose the core of your being. To destroy you in order to save you from hell and the creatures from it. To protect you from demons by making you suffer so much that you lose the core of your being. To destroy you in order to save you from hell and the creatures from it. To protect you from demons by making you suffer so much that you lose the core of your being. To destroy you in order to save you from hell and the creatures from it.

Like a prayer.

Panting hysterically, you feel your mind shattering into a million shards. You can’t comprehend it. You don’t want to. You don’t want to know that the pain you felt, day after day, for what felt like an eternity had been a plot. A fucking spell. You don’t want to know. You don’t want to. You don’t want. You don’t. You.

You. Can’t. Do. This.

01:01. The crash. The beatings. The death of your sister.

It’s possible that you are crying, shaking, but you’re not aware.

And after crumbling on the bathroom floor, for minutes, maybe hours, you make your decision.

You run.

.

The sun is still out.

That means they can’t come out yet. They can’t come after you. They’re probably still asleep, unbeknownst of your escape.

The house had been eerily quiet as you snuck out. And as soon as you stepped foot outside the front door, you had felt it.

The incredible weight holding you down. Like the manor itself was shackled to your ankles. Walking away felt like trudging through mud, dragging this boggling heaviness with you. Every sire bond that has formed was shrieking in your head, wailing, begging for you to stop leaving.

It was purely your willpower and determination that gave you the strength to overcome the supernatural ties that tethered you to those vampires. You had to ignore how much your limbs were aching, how much your heart was straining. You just had to run away. Keep going and don’t look back. It was melting your brain into a puddle, but your mind had been in ruins anyway.

You didn’t know where you were going, the forest faced every side of the house, but you just kept going, as far from them as possible. If you ran down one direction, you were bound to meet an end at some point, find civilisation.

There is no plan. No plan as you fled the walls of those wretched vampires. You just knew you couldn’t stay, couldn’t continue living like that with the knowledge that was spilled onto you. There’s no way you could have pretend not to know and face those vampires, let them drain your blood when they had been part of the reason behind all your suffering.

Fuck the Heavens and the Hells. Fuck the angels, the demons, the vampires, werewolves, witches, all the damnable fucking supernatural.

Angel blood in your veins. A fucking curse.

Every bone in your body is starting to hurt, lungs growing weaker every gasping breath. You keep running, ignoring the overbearing ache and faint voices in your head chanting sorrysorrysorry.

Sorry, child, we’re sorry.

.

The sun has set. It is dark. And you are still running through the forest, no inkling at all of how far you’ve gone and how far is left until you find your rescuer.

The night is eerie, enveloping you in a fog of oblivion, no perception of anything beyond this forest. Howling can be heard from a distance, or what you hope to be a distance. You’re hanging on by a thread, but only just. You don’t know how much longer you will last, you just know that you’ve passed the point of no return now. They would have been searching for you since the daylight began to dwindle. They are on their way.

There had been so many instances where you had just stopped, panting, and stared at your own two feet, wondering what the fuck you’re doing. Because where are you running to? Who is going to believe you when you tell them about the fucking vampires looking for you? Who is going to care about some crazy girl?

What is the point in running? Living, even?

But an instinct within you, the one sparked by this revelation, didn’t allow your legs to stop. The whole world is against you. The whole fucking world. Creatures of the Night are hunting you, the angels have abandoned you to a cruel spell, your family is rotting six feet under. No one is going to fight for you, except yourself.

You are a survivor.

Energy waning from the lack of food and the sparing gulps of water you had salvaged from a brooke, the only thing fuelling you is your adrenaline. At this time of night, your vision is no more than dark silhouettes of trees and rocks. Your limbs are numb. The only thing telling you that you haven’t stopped moving is the constant crunch of leaves beneath your feet, crisply ringing. Keep going. Just keep running.

Where are you?

You hear a voice, his voice. No, you don’t hear it, you sense it. You feel his worry, his fear.

Where did you go? Please.

They can’t possibly be near. Even with vampire speed, there’s no way that can catch up with you so quickly when you’ve been gone for hours.

Please.

The pleading makes your heart lurch. You stop, heaving over your knees.

Guilt. It’s the guilt. Why do you feel guilty for leaving? No, you don’t feel guilty, the bond is making you feel it. It’s trying to manipulate you.

I can’t lose you…

But that’s definitely his voice, his inner thoughts. Seokjin is afraid, panicked, in a frenzy to look for you. Genuine concern.

Maybe you should go back. What are you even doing anyway? Where are you going? There’s no purpose.

It also dawns on you that they will pick up on your scent right away. Even if they don’t find you tonight, everywhere you go, they will find you eventually. They had found you even though your aura had been muffled by your uncle’s abuse. They somehow found you. They are always going to find you.

Maybe you should give up. Just submit to them for the rest of your eternity. Either way, you would be suffering, the angels will see to that. Just give up.

Your fists tighten on your knees. It’s freezing cold; your clothes shredded by sharp grappling branches, the midnight breeze percolates pass the futile material and assails your skin. Thoughts racing at an uninterpretable speed, your lost purpose becomes blaringly apparent.

It’s not so bad in there.

Please be okay. Please come back. Don’t go.

They kind of care about you, in their own warped sense of what caring is. Right? They almost love you, some of them. Right? Right? Right? Right? Right?

I miss you. I’m coming for you. I love you.

Right?

Please be okay.

“SHUT UP!” You sob out loud. In the distance, your outburst scare away a flock of sleeping birds, their wings flapping in synchrony to your heartbeat. “Please just shut up.” As tears erupt like a dam, your slam your hands to your ears to shield you from the sound. But of course, it doesn’t stop. It isn’t a sound. It’s a feeling. It’s the sire bond telling your mind his emotions. “Shut up. Stop making this harder for me. Shut up.”

Falling onto your knees, you simply break. Every fibre of your mind is peeling away, your entity flaking into dust. The cold stings your damp cheeks, trickling down to your neck where you remember so vividly the feeling of their fangs.

They almost love you, some of them.

That’s good enough, right?

That’s better than… nothing.

More birds shriek into the silence of the night, so loud that you hear them clearly despite your covered ears.

Are they here? Already?

You keep crying, soil eating your crumpled frame.

And because of your sobs, your firmly shut eyes, your covered ears, you don’t hear the footsteps approach you until you sense a looming presence behind.

Here.

Which one is it?

Slowly, every inch of you trembling, you turn.

A shocked man stares at you in wide eyes. Some sort of camper or hiker judging by his attire.

Not here.

“Oh my god. Please help me. Please help me.” You crawl over to his feet, ignoring the protest of your exhaustion and your pitiful position. “Sir, please help.” Your luck has turned. Finally. You’re going to be okay. Finally. The tears fall harder.

“W-what happened? Are you hurt? Lost?” Gradually processing the dirt covered girl collapsed and crying at his feet, the man bends down and examines you in concern.

“Yes, please, just take me somewhere safe. Please, they’re going to find me.” The wash of relief almost overwhelms you to unconsciousness.

“You need to tell me what happened, little girl. You’re in shock. Who’s going to find you?”

In the dark, you can’t see well, but something in his eyes makes you trusting of him. It’s the genuine worry and care. What a normal man is supposed to look like. You’re saved. You’re finally saved.

“We have no time, just take me… take me to the police.” Your shaking hand grips at his fleece in desperation. You don’t know what you can tell him or the police, you don’t know anything more powerful than vampires than can protect you from them, but you can think about that later. You just need to go now.

“Okay, okay. Let me carry you.”

No. Child, no.

This time, it isn’t Seokjin’s voice. Someone else, like that faint chanting you occasionally hear.

“Thank you.” You shift into a position that better enables the man to reach under your legs. Behind him, you see a pack of black dogs, creeping warily towards you, sniffing. “Are those your dogs?”

“Yes, don’t worry, they are clever boys.”

When his palm touches the underside of your thigh, ice pierces into your skin.

No. Not him. Not safe.

You know that ice. You know that inhuman lack of body heat.

As he hoists you up, you nudge him away and roll back onto the ground. “Wait.” Moonlight illuminating part of his face, you survey his pale skin, his devilishly good looks. His brows pinch in confusion, but there’s a twinkle in his eye.

Not human.

You glance over at the dogs again. Sleek black coat, long sharp ears, crimson eyes. Where their legs should meet the ground are misty shadows, like ghosts.

Not dogs.

The man’s lips quirk up. His camper’s attire dissipates like dust to reveal a black suit underneath.

You run.

Twigs snap beneath your feet as you sprint as fast as your calves allow, away from whatever they are. Your chest aches from fatigue, ankles screaming for you to stop. As you run, you ignore the branches reaching out to scratch your cheek, your arms. You hardly even feel the cuts against the twisting feeling of dread in your gut.

Angel blood isn’t just valued by vampires.

Looking back, you see the man stood rooted where he is. He isn’t coming after you, but the smirk he wears is enough to tell you not to stop. But not long later, you realise why he isn’t chasing.

Growls, howls of excitement, absolute beastly noises erupt from left and right. The hounds are running at an astounding speed beside you, their pelts pitch black despite the moonlight that they should reflect. Jaws open, they pant at you wildly as they hunt you. Zigzagging between the trees to create a misleading path, you try to create as much distance from them as possible. But they’re quick things. Clever boys.

Soon, they are narrowing in on you, until the pack is an arrowhead surrounding you. The closest hound snaps his jaw at your ankle, barely missing you. The loud crunch from the collision of its canines as he shuts his jaw, you know your foot would have been gone if you had been one second slower. You don’t have time to yelp. You focus on running ahead, slipping between boulders and following your instinct for directions.

Where are you? You hear Seokjin once again.

I’m here! You try to scream down the bond. Save me.

You don’t know why. You don’t know why you are asking for help from the very ones you had been running from in the first place. But you just know that, whatever is hunting you, your fate would be much worse with them.

I’m coming. His utter distraught is gone, replaced by a calm composed determination instilled by the awaited reply from you at last. And you know at this moment that it was a mistake to flee. Seokjin at the very least, regardless of everyone else, would never harm you, would always look after you. Why did you leave? Why had you acted upon your deranged irrationality? We’re looking for you. Don’t worry.

Relief. Because that is a promise. And you trust him.

But now the guilt of fleeing from them kicks in. What the bond had made you feel every step you took, that ripping sensation as if you’re tearing apart something substantial, you can imagine being a mammoth’s weight worse for them with their heightened senses.

Something is chasing me. Please help me. I’m sorry.

His fear returns, this time a formidable wave wiping his away short-lived relief. What is chasing you?

Dogs, big black dogs. There was also this man.

Bloody hellhounds and a Drude demon. Shit.

You have no idea what those creatures are but you can tell by the explosion of terror in Seokjin that it’s some of the worse you could encounter.

Distracted by his disclosure, you misplace your foot on an uneven log and topple down, the bark you crash onto scraping fire against your skin. Pain explodes at the back of your skull where it hits something severe. You don’t see beyond a sea of pulsing black.

Then something rips into your leg. You don’t know if you are screaming.

.

You drift in and out of consciousness.

Tiny stars dance around the deep blue sky. They look pretty.

You think you hear something growling, whimpering maybe.

What is that leaking from you so briskly? Blood? Hmm.

Darkness.

.

You hear voices? Yes, voices. Unintelligibly arguing. But if you shut your eyes again and stop shifting on the ground, they could pass off as background music.

Then the volume grows. Fighting. Grunting. More Growling. More whimpering.

But you feel safe. You don’t know why but you feel safe. That’s how you know you’ve lost your mind for good. There are virtual flames burning around you, warmth licking at your broken body. Nothing can get past the flames. Nothing can hurt you. This phantom fire is shielding you.

You heart is burning too, fighting. Someone’s sireship is fuelling you, feeding you, forcing life back into you.

When you open your eyes, when a vaguely familiar face appears, hovering over you, obstructing your view of the towering treetops and wavering constellations. You can’t quite put of your finger on his name, but you know you’re safe.

His eyes are big, full of concern and trouble, his hair long, black, wavy but tucked behind his ears. A black liquid is splattered across him, some on his beautiful face that is taut in vexation.

You don’t protest when he carries you in strong sturdy arms, lifelessly flopping against his chest.

He is warm. Fire. Safe.

And then he is zooming past the trees, so fast the wind tickles at you violently, your limp body jostling. Though half unconscious, your eyes don’t leave him, studying his angular jaw, the round crook of his nose.

J…

A droplet of black liquid rolls off his chin and splats onto your arm. It tingles like weak acid, faintly sour, an unearthly sensation.

Your heavy lids seal you back into the darkness.

.

The first thing you notice when you wake is the softness around and under you. Arms from beneath you draw away, leaving your weight to sink into the bed. Your eyes stay shut.

Warmth is pressed onto your lips, gently, careful as if one hard prod would shatter you. Your throat knows to swallow the stream flowing into your mouth, its taste unfamiliar, but safe.

Warm. And safe.

Almost immediately, you feel its effects catapult into your system. Skin everywhere begins to sew back together, bones like toppled buildings building brick by brick, the chaos in your mind whispered to sleep. That protective fire around you blazing.

Still, you don’t open your eyes. You don’t want to. You can’t face them.

“Troublesome little shit.” He pushes the hair out of your face, touch possessing a surprising delicacy that contradicts his insult and completely entangles your preconceived conception of him. But his voice… So soothing like honey. Not what you expected.

You train your breath to be steadily slow, eyes to be unmoving under your closed lids, hoping to pass off as asleep. The silence creaks, followed by a rustle of bedding. Then you feel the heat of his breath stroke the tiny hairs on your forehead. You suppress a flinch. But he presses his lips onto your skin, so tenderly you almost open your eyes to see if it’s really Jungkook.

“Please don’t leave again.”

And then he’s gone.

❦

@taexxxiiaa @serendipity-secrets @killcomet @askingtheimportantthingshere@blackpanther4550 @comingjimin @unatempesta-dipensieri @dapppphhhhh  @unatempesta-dipensieri @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @queerloser17 @linyi-lovbts @somewhereinthestarss @xxqueenwxtchxx @whitefeatheredwyvern @embrace-themagic @brokencrownqueen @i-dont-even-know-fck @bangtandimples @kalkeegan @beetaeass @confessionsofascientist @chimycthulhu @hisunshiine @shooklier @livetay84 @runlikeabuffalo @nanna022 @berryjam17 @thelouhvre @bluemooncnblue @enigmaticlove-03 @lanu-la @bangtanfancamp @brbkpop @jiminisnotavirginrecs @samariakeeper @goodnightbug @dont-touch-me-fwit @tastelessfoolsbts  @queensavage1245 @laced-brds @ultraanonymousey @ashchats @godzillagirl-14 @lustremyg @animeshins @it-is-dana @itsavakent @strawberrym0chii @namchimtae @smoljams@brightenn @btsxdoll @d-noona @show-respect-to-your-queen @fyeebangtan@for-hobi @lx-leeta​ @thesoftuglies

❦

19/01/2020

© Copyright 2020

[cafedanslanuit]

pairing: saeyoung x mc

summary: a love story between a man with a mysterious job and a nurse during the second world war. “And all the things that you never ever told me and all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me. Never coming home, never coming home.”

warnings: mentions of war and everything that entails: blood, wounds and death.

notes: this idea came to me after listening to “the ghost of you” by my chemical romance, hence the title. hope you like this~

i. 

In a way, it was good feeling numb.

Being a frontline nurse for the second great war was definitely a time when you would want to feel numb. I could no longer feel the pain in my overworked body, smell the stench of death or cry when we lost yet another soldier. Make no mistake, I still did my best. In fact, I think not being able to feel anything anymore is what granted me the serenity to treat soldiers the best way that I can. My mind goes over my medical knowledge, not really listening when they start to cry about their families or loved ones who are waiting for them to return from the war zone.

Waiting. Waiting is such a terrible thing to do.

The anguish of knowing it’s been hours and he still doesn’t show up, the stressful ticking of the clock and the way your whole brain is screaming something bad has happened, but you have no clue on what it is or what you should do to avoid it. Or if you can even avoid it by the time you’ve recognized the danger.

I heard one of the other nurses calling my name just as I was closing the eyes of the soldier who had just passed away in front of me. She was kneeling over another body, short of hands to stop the bleeding coming from different parts of the soldier’s body. I could only see his closed eyes since most of his face was covered by the fabric the nurse was using to put pressure on his wounds.

“You sure he’s alive?” I asked. She nodded frantically, tending to a large wound on his left thigh. Judging from the extent of the wounds, he wouldn’t be for a long time. Still, I knew she was young and had just joined us a week ago and had the idea of fighting until the end.

I sighed and kneeled beside her, taking a bandage to try and stop the bleeding from his arm. As I did so, I uncovered the soldier’s face.

It was like an explosion.

In an instant, my body became aware of the shootings happening in the distance. The screaming of men against men buzzed in my ears and I realized how badly my head was hurting. I could even listen to the other nurses’ cries.

Seeing him--- no, recognizing him was like coming up the water and breathing for the first time in ages. But it couldn’t be him. There was no way it could be him, I thought before pulling off the soldier’s helmet. The minute I saw the untamed red hair, my whole body started shaking, feeling like my mind was playing cruel tricks to me.

It was him.

But it couldn’t be… not here, not now.

I called for an extra nurse as I tended to his arm, my eyes fixed on the face I thought I would never see again.

ii.

Beer, like me, is mostly an acquired taste. That was why, for weeks, I would only look from afar to the handsome red-haired man that always sat at the same table at the bar and scribbled notes on his small notebook for hours. He wouldn’t drink anything else but soda, making me wonder why he even bothered to come to a bar if he wouldn’t have any alcohol. My plan was to wear my best dresses and have him notice the girl who had been giving him heart-eyes for the past few daysr. Maybe he would invite me to his table, we could start talking and getting to know each other. Sadly, my plan failed, as he never seemed to look my way.  I ended up being the one to sit at his table and introduce myself.

I wish I had approached him earlier. Just imagining I could have had another two weeks with him is enough to make me smile.

Conversation flowed naturally, even if the first thing he did was hide his notebook from me. Well, all writers are reserved, I guessed. He laughed like a kid and his smile was so contagious, even hours later, tucked into bed, I would smile whenever his memory popped in my mind.

The first encounter turned into a daily occurrence for another week. Friday came again and I asked him to go for a small date with me the next day. He pouted and explained he still had to go to work.

“Your work at the radio station is seven days a week?” I asked, raising my eyebrows in suspicion. Saeyoung scratched the back of his head with a sheepish smile.

“Money’s tight, so I take every shift I can,” he explained.

“So you use your only free time to work on your novels?”

“Novels?” he asked, raising his eyebrow.

“Yes, in your notebook?” I pressured, tilting my head to where his notebook was now resting on the table under his elbow. Saeyoung looked down and let out a small laugh.

“Right, the novel. It has a long way before it becomes one,” he shrugged, putting the notebook back in the inside pocket of his jacket. I followed his hand movements and then took a long swig of my beer.

“It sure does when it’s not a novel at all,” I commented, licking my upper teeth. I noticed how his face tensed up, so I waved my hand in front of him, trying to dissipate his fears. “No, no, don’t worry. I won’t ask. But going back to my previous inquiry, I was really looking forward to seeing you outside of this bar. Not that I don’t like you’ve been paying for my drinks this past week, but…” I chuckled. “Maybe dinner, when you’re not working… at the radio station.”

I was hoping he would understand that by mentioning his alleged workplace, he would understand I was not going to pressure him for any more answers. He probably worked a low-end job and didn't want to discuss that with me. It probably had gone south with his previous lovers, I thought. The subject didn’t really matter to me. I had a good job at the hospital as a nurse, so I wasn’t really looking for someone who could support me. At that moment, all I wanted was to spend more time looking into his big, golden eyes that had lured me from the beginning.

The first time Saeyoung kissed me was outside his house. He had taken my offer to get dinner together and had called my home number that very same Sunday to ask me to join him at a nice restaurant. As I put on one of my best dresses, I couldn’t stop thinking about the restaurant he had picked. There was no way someone with a low-end job could afford dinner for two there.

But I had promised not to dig into it. He didn’t seem to be the kind of person that would be involved in dangerous situations, and unless that notebook was actually a chequebook of drug deals he had done, I thought I wouldn’t need to worry. I knew it was naive to be so trusting of a person I had just met, but I guess you’d have to be in the situation I was in for it to make sense.

It wasn’t love, of course it wasn’t love. Not at first, at least. But the sound of his laugh, the way his eyes sparkled and the way he leaned forward whenever I talked just felt like home. Everything made sense when I spent time with him. I had read about soulmates before, and still to this day. I don’t know if that was the case. I just knew my place was by his side and if that meant I wasn’t supposed to ask what he did during the day, then so be it. I could live with that.

The first time Saeyoung kissed me was outside his house. That was also the moment I found the place where I was always supposed to be.

iii.

I made a home out of his house.

Messy was an understatement. I wasn’t able to comprehend how Saeyoung had been living by himself all this time. There was no food in the fridge other than bottles of soda. I had already figured out he had money, so it didn’t make sense why he didn’t hire a maid. He worked on scribbling notes on different notebooks, his eyes never leaving the paper while I tried to organize his house. I wouldn’t have done it for any other man. But there was something about him that compelled me to help him in any way I could.

I wish I was lying when I say I even found a dead mouse Saeyoung insisted was his friend. He picked up the body with a small pout and put it in a shoebox, so he could leave it later at the park. ‘He needs a proper burial. I’ve pulled so many all-nighters and it was nice to hear his squeaking every once in a while to keep me company’. What started as a disgusting discovery ended up making me realize how lonely he really was. I asked him about his family, but he just said he had been on his own for a lot of years and it was better that way. The forced smile that accompanied his words told me otherwise.

“It’s an unnerving big bed for a sole person,” he had commented one day, as he nuzzled his face on the crook of my neck. I listened to him as my fingers played with his red locks, twirling them and the letting go. We had spent the morning lying close together, neither of us wanting to get up.

“Then why did you buy it?” I asked. I felt his nose let out air as he chuckled.

“I didn’t. I didn’t pick anything in this house,” he confessed, pressing a kiss on my neck.

“What? Then who did?”

“I’ve said too much already,” he whispered, pushing himself up on his forearms and hovering on top of my body. He looked down at me and leaned into my hand when I cupped his face.

“You’re really not gonna tell me what you do for a living, huh?” I asked with an amused smile. He shook his head with a mischievous grin before peppering my face with small kisses, making me laugh until my stomach hurt.

Our days were full of laughter. The only thing I had to do was never ask about what he did for a living. And as the days went by, I even forgot it was even a mystery. I longed for the times we were together, the private slow dances we would have at his living room and the way the moonlight made his pale face look heavenly when he slept by my side.

I loved him.

And by the way he woke me up every morning with a kiss, I knew he loved me as well.

iv.

Saeyoung didn’t show up that night.

We were supposed to meet at the bar at nine, but it had been an hour and no one had seen him. I asked for more beer and sighed as the minutes went by. It wouldn’t be the first time he arrived late, I told myself, as the beer seemed to get stuck in my throat. Anxiously, I tapped my fingers on the table, my leg shaking under the table. He definitely hadn't been this late before.

I couldn’t shake the bad feeling something had happened. But even if he had been mugged on the street or had a bad day, I knew he would still come to find me. The taste of alcohol quickly became repulsive as I kept on waiting.

Before I knew it, I was grabbing my purse and walking to his house, taking the fastest route. He probably had fallen asleep after work or plainly forgot about our date. Even if that would ignite a small quarrel between us, there was nothing I wanted more at that moment but to be able to fight with him.

Nevertheless, the moment the door opened on its own when I knocked, I knew something was wrong.

I was welcomed by broken plates scattered over the floor and the coffee table turned upside down. All the drawers were opened and some of them were even lying on the ground. My brain screamed for me to turn around and leave, and I think that was the last time it led me away from danger.

I can’t really remember anything until my scream when I found a Saeyoung’s body covered with blood on the bed, presumably unconscious. I ran to him, and tore his shirt open, trying to find the source of the bleeding. My breath caught up in my throat when I found not one, but several open wounds, continuous flow of blood coming from them. I frantically tried to stop them, using a shirt on the floor to apply pleasure to give him more time until we got to the hospital.

Saeyoung whispered my name, his eyes slowly opening up as I tried to assess his injuries.

“Don’t worry, okay?” I said, trying to muster a small smile. “Once we get to the hospital I can help you”.

“No,” Saeyoung coughed, grabbing my wrists and trying to stop me.

“What do you mean no?” I asked, finding yet another source of bleeding.

“My cover is blown. Doesn’t matter if I die now."

"It matters to me! Let me take you, please, maybe I can--"

"You were the love of my life," Saeyoung interrupted me, a weak smile playing on his lips. My hands stopped my full attention on his words. "You made me happier than I ever thought I could be. I mean this. But… it's part of the job I took. I've accepted this is it," he said. Before he could continue, he started coughing, his whole body shaking as he winced in pain. The shirt I had used to stop his bleeding was already drenched in blood.

"No. No, I can't. I have to do something, please," I begged as tears started rolling down my cheeks.

Saeyoung shook his head. His hands found mine and squeezed them gently.

"Stay with me?" he asked, a hint of doubt in his voice. I bit my bottom lip, failing at trying to wake up from the horrid nightmare I was in. Defeated, I nodded and sat next to him.

Carefully, I held him close as I laid on his bed. His head was resting between my neck and chest and my arms were around his shoulders, holding him tightly against my trembling form.

“What the fuck do you do for a living?” I sniffled. Saeyoung chuckled, nuzzling his face against my neck.

“We have a machine that can decrypt enemies' messages. I am part of a team that uses that machine,” he explained. Immediately after, he squinted and let out a long sigh. “You can never tell anyone this. I shouldn’t have…”

“I won’t say a thing,” I assured him, pressing a kiss on the top of his head.

“Wait until the war is over, okay? Stay… stay alive. With the work we've done, it shouldn't last much longer. Just don't ever say anything about this."

"I won't. I won't," I whispered.

I don't know how long I held him in my arms. My hands went from stroking his hair to rubbing soothing circles on his back, trying to somehow make him feel comfortable as he got closer and closer to his end. My tears had stopped without me realizing it, the feeling of emptiness replacing them. The long goodbye of the love of my life was slowly taking away the last bits of hope of happiness I had left.

“I’m scared,” he suddenly muttered, his voice a little broken.

“Don’t be. It’ll be like falling asleep. You’ll be okay,” I assured him, holding his body against mine. He let out a shaky breath, his fists closing against my blouse.

Softly, I started humming the song he always chose first whenever we danced together. I always thought it was his favourite but I was stupid enough to never ask.

Damn the whole country and every other country involved. Damn the presidents, the world leaders using peace as an excuse to use people as replaceable chess pawns. Damn anyone who made him feel it was okay to die for a bigger cause. Damn the people who were taking him away from me, along with my only chance of happiness and would never face the consequences for it.

"You'll be okay," I repeated as I stroke his hair. "You'll be okay and we'll move to the countryside. We'll get a small house, just for us. You can get a job as a teacher in the church's day school and I'll leave my job as a nurse to take care of our own family. And when you come home, I'll greet you with your favourite soda and a big smile, okay?". I felt him nod against my chest and I continued my humming.

For the longest time, I focused on the sound of his breathing, shallow and weak, until I couldn’t hear it anymore. I cried as I held his body tighter, feeling as if I were to let him go, then he would be really gone. I screamed, not caring if anyone would hear me. I think I secretly hoped someone did, hopefully whoever did that heard me and finished me off once and for all.

When I finally managed to calm down enough, I gently turned his body, still resting on top of me, and laid him on the bed. There was a big bloodstain on my blouse that was already sticking to my skin, but I couldn't bring myself to care about it.

I got the chance to look at his face. His eyes were closed, but there was a hint of a smile and a peaceful expression I had never seen before in people dying from similar causes at the hospital.

He embraced death with the peace he had never lived in.

v.

It was him.

The sole reason why I had left my job at the hospital and enlisted to help out soldiers in the war zone. His death had pushed me to ask to be on the front lines. The feeling of not caring if I lived or died another day was empowering rather than terrifying. If I died, at least I could get to see him again.

We carried him to the nurse's station and a doctor took over the case. No one dared to mention my sudden uneasiness and constant check up on the soldier we had brought back. Maybe they all thought it was an act from the beginning. For me, it felt like an awakening.

Almost at the end of dawn, I noticed him moving his arm, shuffling in his gurney as he tried to take the bandage off. I quickly stood up from the chair I had spent the entire night on and ran to him. His eyes were closed and his face was contorted in a painful expression. I softly moved his hands away from the bandage, securing it after I did so. I explained where he was and what had happened to his arm, trying my best to ease his confusion. I took the chance to fix the bandage around his head, and for the first time, he opened his eyes.

And that was when he looked at me.

With his bright, teal eyes.

"Am I going to lose the arm? You look disappointed," he grunted. I straightened my back and shook my head.

"You will recover fully. I will get the doctor now," I explained, turning my back at him and leaving.

Outside the tent, I felt as if a bucket of cold water drained on top of me, numbing once again any trace of emotion I had dared to revisit in the past twelve hours.

I needed to finally wrap my head around it.

I'd never get to greet him home.

He was never coming back.

[set-phasers-to-whump]

i think i need a doctor

Prompt: emergency room

Whumpee: Nick Burkhardt 

Fandom: Grimm

heyo!! i am gonna be honest here i did kinda just pull this fic outta my ass so there is a chance its not very good but idk. anyway it is set early in season 2 i guess, juliette doesn’t remember nick you know how it is. maybe you will enjoy?

Nick was not really the kind of person that went to the emergency room. Usually, if he was in a situation where one might have gone to the emergency room, he either ignored or dealt with whatever it was as best as he could, or he eventually collapsed and ended up in the hospital. But today, he’d actually done the responsible thing. He’d taken himself to the emergency room.

He had been out having breakfast at his favorite cafe before work. It had been a pleasant morning, until the waiter had brought him a fresh cup of coffee to take with him to work. Nick had taken a sip, noted with some dismay that the coffee was bitter, paid for his meal, and headed out to his car.

He’d had a little more coffee on the way out, deciding he could put up with the bitterness in exchange for caffeine. He slid into his car and started the engine, taking a final sip of his coffee before he pulled out of the parking lot.

Not five minutes into his drive, Nick was considering whether he should pull over or drive himself to the ER. Something was wrong. His heart was beating far too fast, he was sweaty, dizzy, nauseous...he could barely think straight, and it took all of his willpower just to focus on the road. 

I need help, he knew. That was as much thinking as his mind would allow him to do. He swallowed harshly, feeling his pulse pounding in his chest. His hands were starting to shake where they held the wheel in an iron grip. His vision went blurry for a second, and he nearly ran off the road, jerking the car back into its lane at the last second. Sweat dripped into his eyes, but they were already blurring so badly it made no difference. Emergency room, he decided, and then he thought it, over and over, so he wouldn’t forget. Emergency room.

Fortunately, Nick was familiar enough with the location of the emergency room to drive there in his current state without getting lost, though he had definitely broken several traffic laws (not the least of which was, don’t drive if you can’t even think straight). 

By the time he screeched to a stop in the ER parking lot, Nick was almost completely out of it. He could still barely see, his heart was still racing, and the tremors in his hands had begun to spread through the rest of his body. He couldn’t remember what he’d been doing before he’d gotten in the car. He couldn’t even remember driving here. Nothing was making sense, but he knew he was at the emergency room, and he knew he needed to get inside.

Slowly, he climbed out of the car, collapsing against the door the second he’d shut it. His legs, which he hadn’t paid much attention to while driving, were shaking and curiously numb at the same time, and he could barely stand upright. Not to mention the sudden spike in dizziness and nausea that standing up had created. 

Still, under all of this, Nick tried his hardest to focus. He was almost there. One quick walk and somebody would be able to help him. He just had to get inside.

He pushed unsteadily off of the car, nearly falling forwards onto his face but managing to regain his balance. He took a small, unsteady step as the blurry world tilted around him. And then he took another, and another, stumbling along slowly but surely. 

After an eternity of walking, Nick found himself in the lobby of the emergency room, surrounded by a dizzying array of noises and sights which combined unpleasantly with the fogginess of his mind and made him forget entirely where he was and why he was there. 

Then, there was a hand on his shoulder, which felt strangely disconnected from the rest of his body, and then someone was asking him if he was okay, and he experienced a very brief flash of remembrance - he was in the emergency room, and he was there because he felt terrible. “I think I need a doctor,” he mumbled, and then his legs finally gave way beneath him.

For a while after that, everything was a blur. Voices shouted urgently above him, millions of miles away. Things were touching him, and then he thought he might have been moving, and everything felt so very bad but at the same time he was far too out of it to care. Something very cold touched his arm, an easily recognizable sensation compared to the blistering heat that the rest of his body was feeling, and then everything went away.

--

He woke up feeling uniformly bad. His head began to ache the second he opened his eyes. His whole body ached, too, like it’d been through some strenuous activity which he could not, at present, remember. His stomach felt strange. His throat burned. His hair was stuck to his forehead in a way that told him he’d been quite sweaty, but he was cold in a way that told him he wasn’t sweaty anymore. And, of course, he was in the hospital, one of his least favorite places in the world. He took a look around.

There was nothing special in the room, really. Nothing to tell him what had happened. A few machines. An IV in his arm. A pulse monitor on his finger. 

Someone in a white coat passed by his cracked-open door, and Nick called out to them, wincing when the action irritated his aching throat.

“Why am I here? What happened?”

“You were poisoned, Mr. Burkhardt. You collapsed in the emergency room.”

“I was poisoned?” He didn’t remember that. “Who poisoned me?”

“We were hoping you’d be able to tell us that,” said the doctor, looking sympathetic. “I’m afraid we don’t know.”

“Did you call anyone?” Nick asked, half-hoping but at the same time fearing they hadn’t. 

“We called your girlfriend, who was listed as your emergency contact,” the doctor told him, and Nick groaned. He really didn’t need to bother her with this. Not when she was already having to deal with the whole having-no-memories-of-him thing. 

“She said she’d be here as soon as she could,” the doctor went on, and Nick looked up in surprise. “She also said she was going to call a few of your friends, I believe. This was maybe fifteen minutes ago, so they should be here soon.” She gave Nick a smile. 

Nick returned it, mildly stunned. He’d been sure Juliette wouldn’t have wanted to come to the hospital for a man she barely knew, but she was coming, and so, evidently, were his friends. He smiled a little more and thanked the doctor, who said she’d be back shortly to speak with him some more. Then she left, and Nick was left to wait.

Which he didn’t have to do for long. Not five minutes later, Juliette, Monroe, Rosalee, and Hank stood crammed into his small hospital room, clamoring over each other to ask questions.

“Are you okay?” Juliette asked, looking at him with so much concern on her face that Nick nearly wanted to cry.

“Do they know what it was?” Came Rosalee’s question, as she smoothed a hand over his hair.

“Who did this to you?” Monroe asked, his eyes faintly red but still full of worry. “I’ll kill them, I swear.”

“I’ll join you,” Hank added, a similar expression on his face. 

Nick didn’t answer any of their questions, too caught up in just looking at them. At all of them, surrounding him in a way that would’ve made him feel trapped if they were anyone else, but which instead felt safe and comfortable and very right. They’d all come, for him. Stopped whatever it was they’d been doing. Left work. Just to come see him, because he’d been dumb enough to somehow get himself poisoned. 

“Nick? You okay?” Hank asked, and Nick quickly wiped away a tear he hadn’t realized had fallen down his face. “Yeah,” he said, out of instinct, and then he realized he meant it -

He might have been recovering from being poisoned, might have felt like absolute hell, might have been grappling with the question of who had hurt him and why, but he really was okay. He wasn’t alone. His friends were there, and that was all that really mattered. He was okay.

hello i hope this was not too bad!! thanks a bunch for reading! (also do not ask what he was poisoned with i do not know lol just pretend there’s some poison that does all this ok)

[alexanderlightweight]

Home is You

This is for @alexmanesairstream! Thank you for the prompts, I sort of muddled them both together and then it got a little away from me!  Hope you enjoy it!

Michael was fraught with tension and he scowled at his beer bottle, knowing from the mental buzz that sparked like static electrify across his brain that Isobel was fast losing her patience.

“Look, Michael if it’s making you this worked up just go see him.”

“He clearly doesn’t want to see me.  Do you think it’s payback?”  Michael asked and ran his hands through his hair, trying not to think of all the worst case scenarios and failing.

“What I think clearly doesn’t matter,” Isobel said.  “Seeing as I keep on telling you to just go over to his place and talk to him in person.”

“We’ve been talking.  Talking is all we’ve been doing for a couple months now.  This was supposed to be the first step.  Sort of like a date.”  It felt odd to admit, but it was something that had been building for months.  A relationship built on trust and respect and not just desire.  It was supposed to be the beginning of a relationship that Michael had been craving for over a decade.  It was just like life to give him a taste of what he could have, then rip it away.

If this was Alex once again walking away from him, Michael was going to break and it was going to be explosive.  

“Sort of like a date?”  Isobel asked with little sympathy and then she scoffed, “if it’s only sort of a date then what does it even matter?”

If Michael had just a little less control, then the glass in the room would have shattered.  As it was, her wine glass gave a delicate little hum of warning and Isobel winced before setting the glass down.  “Sorry.  Look, Michael you have to figure this out.  Don’t let this be another misunderstanding or accident.  I realize you’re scared,” he shot her a glare that didn’t even phase her.  “But you both being scared is part of what made this take so long to get here.  Granted you both had different reasons for dragging your feet, but at some point you both need to stop making the same mistakes.”  

“If you’re wrong,” Michael warned, unable to finish voicing what he feared the most.

Isobel rolled her eyes and gave him a tiny mental push, “go Michael.  You don’t want to know what I’m planning if you two don’t manage to work this out by Monday.”  

Michael conceded defeat gracefully -with a grumble and the overexaggerated drag of his boots against Isobel’s floor.

-

Michael hadn’t been to Alex’s cabin very often.  The times he had been there, Valenti or someone else had also been present.  It was both exhilarating and neausiating to be approaching what he knew was Alex’s home and sanctuary by himself.  He wanted this to work.  More than anything, he wanted their relationship to be feasible and healthy and something that wouldn’t shatter as easily as bone.  Max may have been able to heal physical wounds and Isobel could root out mental and emotional ones, but not one out of their motley family could heal him if tonight went wrong.

Of course, it went wrong.

The first thing Michael noticed was that the cabin was lit and smoke was coming from the chimney.  It had been cooling down at night, but Alex would never have a fire going if he’d actually planned on meeting Michael for dinner like he’d promised.  Turning to corner to park and seeing Valenti’s car only made caused his mood to darken and agitation to churn in his stomach.  

From an intellectual point of view, Michael understood that what Alex and Valenti were working on was important, he also knew that a part -though not all- of Alex’s dedication to what was a rather thankless task, was because of him.  From an emotional standpoint, Michael wasn’t so understanding.  Especially if Alex’s reason for standing him up was because he was working with Valenti.  That shit wasn’t acceptable.  

It was with wild energy coursing through him that he unlocked Alex’s door with his powers, barely noticing that the door made a solid thunk as it opened.  The inside of the cabin was surprisingly dark, the only light besides the fireplace was a flickering lamp in the kitchen.

What did surprise him was a loud curse and then the sound of something being knocked over and then a quieter curse.  Valenti stumbled out from Alex’s bedroom looking like he hadn’t slept in days and his shirt soaked, an empty glass in one hand.

“Geurin?”  Valenti asked with what was clearly genuine surprise, “shit sorry.  I must have fallen asleep.  What are you doing here?”

“Trying to figure out where my errant date was,” Michael drawled, “just what kind of shit did you two find this time?”

Valenti blinked twice and then held up a hand, “give me a second before the interrogation, Guerin.  Actually, let me ask a couple questions first.  What time is it?”

“Past ten,” Michael said and watched as Valenti made his way with ease to the kitchen, grabbing a pot of what was clearly cold coffee and filling the glass in his hand.  The doctor didn’t even hesitate to down it before he rinsed it out and filled it with water that he slipped much more slowly.  

“Right, so I’ve been here... shit.  I got here yesterday, to go over something with Alex.  You said you had a date tonight?”  

“He didn’t mention it?”

“He’s ah...” Valenti sighed, “look I need you to trust me as a doctor okay?”  Michael crossed his arms in front of his chest and shifted his weight.  “Right.  Don’t even know why I thought that might work.  I got here yesterday and Alex was a little under the weather.  I convinced him to rest a little bit and he felt bad enough to agree, only when he woke up again his fever was pretty bad.  He’s not holding down medicine or fluids and his fever is high enough that he’s not making any sense.  He mentioned sending you a message and I gave him his phone, but it’s possible he forgot to send it.”  Valenti paused and took another sip of water, “or even type it out.  Like I said, he’s pretty out of it.”

“He’s sick?  Do we need to get him to a hospital?”  Michael asked, immediately alert despite the fact that he hated hospitals.  He hadn’t been around a human he cared about long enough to be there when they were sick.  He would have been, if it were for Alex, but they’d never had that opportunity.  

“I’d really rather not move him.  I gave him an IV earlier to get some fluids in him and he’s been doing better since then.  Honestly, he just needs rest and someone to look after him and help him out.”  Valenti said and he fixed Michael with a very serious look, “I have to get back to my apartment to rest at some point though.  If he’s not doing better I’ll probably have to take him with me and then to the hospital anyway, I can’t leave him here alone like this.”

“I can stay with him.”  The words were out of his mouth before Michael’s brain had finished registering Valenti’s words but he meant them.

“Guerin,” there was a pause, “you and Max and Isobel don’t get sick.  Alex is, he’s going to need a lot of looking after and a lot of help.”  

Valenti gave him and look that Michael didn’t even try to discern, he just shook his head stubbornly, “I can take care of him.”  

-

The list of things to track about Alex’s condition was long but not overly complicated.  The most important thing was to monitor his temperature and keep track of his fluid intake.  Valenti had been very clear that if anything got worse that Michael was to call him immediately, for once Michael didn’t argue.

Alex’s body was flush with heat, his face too pallid and hair soaked with sweat.  His eyes were glazed over with fever and when he met Michael’s gaze there was little recognition for a few minutes.  Then he seemed to collect himself enough to offer a small smile before he buried himself back into his pillow.

-

Taking care of Alex seemed to mostly be entertaining himself while Alex slept.  Michael hadn’t been sure what to do with himself at first; heating broth that Alex couldn’t quite hold down and texting both Valenti and Isobel updates on how Alex was doing.  She’d offered to come over but he’d been firm in telling her that wasn’t necessary.  Now he found himself pressed against Alex’s side, using his tablet for research and waking Alex up when he felt the other man needed it.  They hadn’t talked much, Alex being either too exhausted or too sick to have a serious conversation.

It took a week for Alex to get back on some semblance of a meal plan.  His body rejected most solid foods and Michael knew it was driving him crazy.  It should have been driving them both crazy but Michael, Michael found a strange sense of peace in looking after Alex.  In the fact that Alex was letting him instead of fighting to do everything himself.  

Michael had only left the cabin twice and that was to grab some of his things and make sure the bunker was sealed tight.

Taking care of Alex while he was sick was one of the most intimate things Michael had ever experienced.  Alex was stubborn and proud but even he knew when to lean on someone else and the fact that he hadn’t insisted Michael leave, hadn’t asked for someone else to see him like this.  It made something in Michael hum and settle happily in his chest, his entropy evening out as though Alex’s breathing and heartbeat were a song that soothed his mind.

It was like they were in their own little world.  Valenti had been called to a nearby hospital for an emergency and since Michael wasn’t sure exactly how Alex felt about anyone else at the moment, he didn’t bother letting anyone besides Isobel knowing what was going on.  

-

“So all it took for you to get along with Kyle was me getting sick?”  Alex teased him, cheeks finally showing some color that wasn’t from a fever and Michael rolled his eyes while using his powers to tuck the blanket around Alex.  

“I can tolerate Valenti when he’s useful, if I have to.”  Michael admitted sourly, “this isn’t going to become a common thing, Alex.  I wasn’t going to risk you dying or something and he’s the expert on human illnesses.”

“So what you’re saying,” Alex drawled with a glint of mischief in his eyes that made Michael wary, “is that Kyle has a better understanding of my anatomy than you?”  

“Alex,” Michael said warningly and was greeted with a smirk, “sometimes I wonder if you want me to break his face.”

“Sorry.”  He didn’t sound sorry at all, “but you kind of set yourself up for that one.”  When all Michael did was glower at him, Alex chuckled and reached out a hand to him.  “Thank you for trying to work with him.”

-

Taking care of Alex when he was incoherent and mumbling unintelligible things and barely able to hold a cup without spilling on himself was the easy part.  Taking care of a bed-ridden but coherent Alec was a trial in patience and a test in cunning.

“Guerin, no.”  

“What happened to Michael?”

“Michael is reserved for when you’re not holding a very sharp razor.”  Alex replied and gave the blade a very wary look.  “I’m fine waiting to shave.”

“You’ve been complaining about how being sweaty and not being able to shave is making you feel gross.  I can help with that.”  Michael sat down next to Alex and put the razor back on the tray of grooming supplies he’d gathered.

“I haven’t seen you clean shaven since we were kids.”  Alex raised a brow and looked at him challengingly, “you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“You’ll find I’ve only perfected my technique over the years.”  Michael said and grinned smugly before letting his mouth soften into a much gentler smile.  He raised his hand slowly and cupped Alex’s jaw, “I can tell it’s bothering you sweetheart, if you can, trust me with this.  Okay?”  He made sure his voice and his grip were tender, no demands.  If Alex decided he didn’t want this, Michael would respect that.  Alex watched him, brown eyes dark and gorgeous, brow furrowed in a way that made Michael want to soothe away all of his exhaustion.  

“Alright,” Alex said, pressing his cheek into Michael’s palm.  “I’d appreciate it then.  And Michael,” Alex paused, “I do trust you.  

Michael’s breath caught in his chest and he bit back the biting humor that defensively came to mind.  Even after all this time spent with Alex, there was a lingering fear that nipped at his heels and hid in the shadows of his brain.  

“Let’s put it to the test then, Private.”

-

Alex held himself still.  The moment, the act of Michael shaving him felt fragile.  It was his skin that a blade was pressed against, but he felt as though he were a sniper with Michael in his sights.  

Michael’s hands were calloused and warm, gentle but firm on his face, moving Alex where he needed to go.  The blade a steady and soft pressure.  Each slide of it against his face came with a strange pressure before it disappeared.  Soon enough he realized that Michael was using his powers to delicately maneuver the razor so that Alex was completely safe from even the tiniest and most accidental of cuts.  That devoted attention -on top of Michael’s dedication while he was sick- nearly broke Alex’s already cracked heart.

“I’m sorry.  I don’t think I’ve said that yet.”  He finally murmured, trying not to startle Michael.

“Alex, not right now.”  Michael said and gave him a stern look, “let me finish this.  I’m almost done.”  

Alex waited until he’d lifted the razor away to wipe it clean and then reached up, tangled his fingers with the hand Michael still had on his jaw.  Tilting his head he pressed a kiss to the now unscarred skin of Michael’s left hand, “you just keep on taking care of me.  I didn’t get to tell you how much I was looking forward to dinner.  To a real date, with you.”  

Michael gave a slow shuddering breath and clenched his eyes shut for a long moment, fingers tightening on Alex’s.  “Alex, why do you... you.  Fuck, you have the absolute worst timing for everything don’t you?”  Michael opened his eyes and Alex swallowed, already having forgotten what he meant to say in reply.  Michael’s eyes were fierce and burning and Alex felt consumed by the intensity.  

“Every time I try to wait for the right time, I hurt us both.  I don’t want to, I can’t keep doing that.  Eventually, I’ll be too late again.  Waiting for you was , Michael.  I don’t want to push you away again, just because I can’t figure out when or how to tell you what I feel or what I want.���  Alex kept his gaze locked on Michael’s.  “So, because I think I need to make it clear.  I wanted that date with you.  I knew what I was going to wear.  I wanted that night to end with a decision.”  

“And what decision would that be?”  Michael asked, voice hoarse but gaze no less relentless.  

“That no matter what, I’ll be there for you.  You’re my family, Michael.”  Michael’s gaze dimmed a little and Alex quickly continued, “but that’s not all I want you to be.  I wanted to tell you at dinner that I wanted more. That I want a relationship with you.  That I still love you.  I’ve never stopped loving you.”

Michael didn’t let him add anything else, just half lunged forward and Alex was dimly aware of the tray hitting the wall.  Pushed out of the way by Michael’s powers and then he was lost.  Pulled away from reality until his world began and ended with the press of Michael’s lips on his own.  Fingers sliding through his hair and tangling with the messy strands and hushed words of “I want that.  I want you,” pressed between gasps of air against his lips.  

He didn’t know how much time had passed before they parted.  Michael pressing one last kiss against his lips before pressing tiny, softer kisses against his cheeks and neck.

It took a long moment for Alex to come down from that euphoria, he was dizzy from the exertion of their kiss and he could do little more than rest a hand on Michael’s head.  By the time Michael stopped lavishing him with affection, Alex was waning and his eyes fluttering in a desperate attempt to stay awake.  

“If that’s all it took to wear you out, then we’re going to need to work on your stamina darling.”  Michael’s teasing was gentle and Alex gave a tired scoff in response.  Whatever energy he’d gained that day was gone and he just wanted to fall asleep with Michael’s comforting heat and weight against him.  “Alex, Alex stay awake just a little longer.”  Alex struggled to open his eyes and was rewarded with a soft, “there we go.  I meant it when I said you have the worst timing, let me just finish this and you can sleep.”  

Michael’s voice, his hands, the words he was speaking and even the scrape of metal from the razor all seemed twined together in something deeply comforting.  

-

Michael stretched out, tearing off his shirt as he headed to the Airstreams shower.  It had been a long but successful day and he was pleased with the amount of work he’d gotten done.  It had been a few months since Alex had missed their date and somehow, during the two weeks that he’d taken off, everyone had decided to have problems that had to be fixed.  While he couldn’t complain about the steady work, it did bite into his time spent both with Alex and in his bunker.  Of the two, Alex was his priority, but he did miss time spent discovering and learning more about who he was and where he was from.  The piece of his ship that Jim Valenti had left Alex, stayed in the bunker under the cabin, a place that Alex and he had been converting to both a lab and a more functional safehouse.  

Done with his shower, Michael went to grab new clothes and then cursed.  He’d been doing laundry at the cabin and apparently, he’d been forgetting to bring it back with him.  Deciding that if anyone pulled him over they could just deal with it, he put on his dusty and grease smeared jeans and forewent a shirt.  It wasn’t until he went to grab the rest of his dirty laundry that he really looked around the Airstream and he paused, taking in something that should have been obvious.

The Airstream was practically empty.

Oh it still held pieces of him.  It was still very clearly somewhere he had lived, but the longer he looked around the more he realized he didn’t live there anymore.  Somehow, in the days, weeks and now months of being with Alex, he’d only slept at the Airstream when he was too tired to drive home.  Or on the rare occasions when they were in town and he convinced Alex that it was faster to just stop at the Airstream instead of driving to the cabin.  

Michael drove on the side of too fast as he headed back to the cabin.  Alex was in the backyard, his laughter ringing through the air like a siren call when he arrived and Michael followed it.  The beagle pup they’d rescued was darting around, valiantly attempting to chase a soccer ball that outsized her.  Alex turned and smiled at him, looking healthier and happier than ever and Michael understood now what Alex had meant about feeling seventeen again.  Except they weren’t, they were better now.  Stronger, able to take care of each other and he knew that neither of them would ever look away again.  

“Too hot to put a shirt on, Cowboy?”  Alex asked as he met him for a kiss.

“More like I forgot that all my clothes were here,” Michael said evenly and he could feel Alex tensing under his hands, “I’ll have to remember to take some spares over tomorrow.”  

“Just some spares?”  Alex asked, voice tinged with hopefulness that let Michael know they were both on the same page.

“My home’s here,” Michael said and he put his left hand on Alex’s chest, right over his heart.  Alex was the music he needed to survive this planet, to survive the universe.  Whether that was here, in a little cabin in Roswell or on a ship set to explore the universe.  So long as he had Alex, his mind was quiet and life was worth it.  

[your-modern-shakespeare]

Just Like You (24)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23

Summary: You are an experiment, the first of its kind. One day you escape and are living a normal life when you run into a perfect stranger or was he?

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 5365

A/N: Well...it’s my birthday today so I decided to post a birthday chapter. I originally wanted to post this on March 10th but realized right as I was about to post, the first half of the chapter had already been posted so...I’m dumb. But it’s up for today even thought being quarantined has sucked the life out of me and will do the same for me today. I hope someone enjoys this but I don’t know. Enjoy. 

Warnings: angst, non-cannon info (?), kissing, some fluff, google translate, flashback, POV switching, a little bit of a cliff hanger

Tags: @thisisthelilith, @thesalsafic, @fangirl1802, @lust-for-pan, @iamwarrenspeace, @the-red-world-of-jess-chibi, @ssweet-empowerment​

BUCKY’S POV

1 Month Later

I walked into the hospital room and sat down on the bed next to her, like I did every day since we got here. She was still asleep, no surprise there.

So I pulled out the next letter, an identical match to the other ones I had written to her every day since we got here, and sat on the bed beside her. I looked over at the ever growing stack of them, sitting beside her bed, all 207 of them, and opened the newest one. I grabbed her hand, moved real close to her, and began the next letter.

.

Dear Y/N,

It’s been 6 months, 3 weeks, and 6 days since everything was normal. But it’s also been, officially, 1 year since we left Bucharest. Happy 116th Birthday.

Steve wanted to come in and throw some kind of party for my 100th birthday but it feels wrong to celebrate today without you. I thought we would both make it to this day and even though you’re physically here, it’s not the same. I wanted to take you out to dinner and I wanted to bake you cupcakes and everything else I had planned for us last year. I want to do these things because you’re here and you deserve it, I don’t want to do anything without you.

Bruce and Tony have been working really hard to figure this out and everyone else has been looking for new HYDRA information everytime they go out on a mission. They said that they had an idea, they’ve been working on it for a while though so I don’t know if it’ll work. They came to your room a couple of days ago to explain this idea and I want to say that I understood everything they said but I would be lying…

I wanted to wait until I understood everything to write it down but maybe when you’re reading these it’ll make sense to you. They couldn’t stop talking about trying to control the serum, that they thought that there was a harmless way to move the serum from all over your body to just a part of your body. The serum would be concentrated enough for you to control but they couldn’t tell me what the after effects would be to do something like this. Would you be in pain as the serum moved? Would you feel the serum once it was concentrated? What would move it and what would make it stay once it was moved?

Unfortunately I didn’t get those answers and probably because I am being hard on them. I hate to admit it but the things I’ve learned about what HYDRA did to you, about all the things you’ve endured, it’s made it hard for me to accept these experiments. I don’t want you to go through any more pain, I don’t want you to have to deal with this. God if there was a way I could take away your pain, I would in a heartbeat. But it doesn't work that way.

So instead I’m just waiting for some kind of miracle to happen and maybe next year we’ll get to celebrate our birthdays together.

Love,

Me

.

STEVE’S POV

The three of us stood outside of the hospital room, looking in through the glass window, watching as bucky sat there reading another letter to a sleeping Y/N. The last six months have been nothing but a huge search for answers. If we weren’t in Wakanda sleeping or resting from a mission, we were on a mission. It kept us busy but it also didn’t yield many results which was the most frustrating part of it all. That and the fact that we still had you in a coma.

I had wanted so badly to have you awake for Bucky’s birthday...and yours too I guess. Which is why I was hoping to anyone listening that Tony was right in this experiment.

“Tony, how sure are you about this?”

“I’m at like...98%?”

“Well I need you to be at 198%. We didn’t tell Bucky we were doing this so it has to work.”

“Look...I know that everyone wants answers to whatever is happening but I don’t know them, I act like I have them but I don’t. What I do know 100%, is that Y/N will know something that we don’t know. She knows a lot more about everything, HYDRA or otherwise. My goal isn’t to fix her right now, I just need to plug the hole so that I can wake her up. We have to stabilize her and I think that pushing as much of the serum as possible away from her brain and her arm would give her the control that she needs to wake up and give us some of the answers we’re looking for.”

“And what about these robots?”

“Well, when we x-rayed Bucky we noticed a strange reaction happening in the shoulder joint near his arm. Because his arm was amputated and healed before putting the arm on, there’s no real connection between the flesh of his shoulder and the vibranium of the arm, that we can see anyway. And yet the serum is still drawn to the vibranium, it’s why we think the arm was used as an additional way of controlling him. We think that when Bucky is activated the combination of the serum and mind control is what makes him obedient to whoever controls him and the metal would essentially behave in the same manner because not only is it attached to him but it can mimic the same reaction as the serum.” Bruce said.

“Mimic?”

“There’s some kind of connection between the two that we don’t understand. We did tests on the serum and the vibranium and the results were always the exact same. Ther serum was made with basic chemistry, there’s not much in there that we couldn’t find in labs today but vibranium...there’s a reason it’s locked up here in Wakanda. They know how powerful it is, they know the strength behind their technology that uses it. HYDRA found out what it could do and they connected the two together and somehow it works. So we wanted to use the same methods against them, to save her.” Tony said

“The vibranium microbots that we injected into her IV a couple of days ago, will essentially connect with the serum and will slowly push the serum down to her legs. This will give us the time that we need to wake her up and figure out how to fix this for good.” Bruce finished.

“I really hope so.” I said.

.

BUCKY’S POV

I was sitting in the chair, feet propped up on the side of her bed, holding her hand and watching some TV show that I couldn't understand. I was going in and out of consciousness pretty frequently, but it wasn’t sticking and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was because every time I opened my eyes I was waiting for some kind of birthday miracle. I just wanted to see her eyes again maybe even her smile, but I could settle for one.

I must have finally given up because the next time I woke up the sun was starting to set and Steve was now sitting in the room.

“How’s it going?” He asked.

“The same as it has been for the last 200 days.”

“Well I know that you didn’t want to do anything for your birthday but I thought it would be nice to do a little something to hopefully bring up your spirits.” He pulled out a box and opened the lid, pulling out one of two cupcakes. He reached out to hand me one of them and I couldn’t help but think about the moment that we met two years ago.

.

Bucharest, Romania

March 10, 2015

BUCKY’S POV

Keep your eyes on the ground, hat pulled down low, don’t look suspicious. Be aware but don’t look paranoid. Don’t give anyone a reason to believe that you don’t belong there.

I kept these thoughts as a constant reminder, kept them right at the forefront of my mind. I escaped. I escaped and I’m okay.

I just had to keep moving, I had to find somewhere safe to live, somewhere where no one could find me. Was Bucharest far enough away from them? Could they find me here or do I need to keep moving?

I’m so tired of running. I’m tired. And hungry.

Just keep moving.

Just keep moving...right into someone.

I ran right into someone, the only downside to keeping your head down was that sometimes you couldn’t see who was right in front of you, especially if they’re not looking either. She had been holding something in her hands, a cupcake, I think, and it was now smothered between the two of us.

“Imi pare foarte rau.” (I’m really sorry.) She says first.

“Este bine.” (It’s good.) I didn’t want to make too much of a fuss about it but I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel bad about ruining her pastry. I looked up at her to apologize as well, but couldn’t get the words out when I saw her face. She was beautiful, simple as that, easily someone that I would have dated back when I was normal. And yet at the same time she was somehow familiar which was strange and I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. I didn’t want to perceive her as a threat but I could have taken her down if needed. I really didn’t want to though...

“Apartamentul meu e chiar acolo, dacă doriți să curețe.” (My apartment is right there if you want to clean up.) The gesture was nice and under different circumstances I wouldn’t hesitate to take her up on her offer, not only because I was covered in frosting, but because I felt like I wanted to spend more time with her.

When I looked at her, I saw flashes of my past. They weren’t of her, obviously given my age and the fact that she couldn’t be over 25, but she reminded me of that time. How easy it was back then to be attracted to someone, to want to pursue a relationship, to be normal...

“Da te rog.” (Yes please) She shyly smiled back at me and let me follow her back to her apartment. I watched her as we walked and the strange thing I noticed was that she walked exactly the same as I did, eyes to the ground, head down low, trying to make herself as small and as unnoticeable as possible.

I followed her into this building that wasn’t the nicest place in the city but was much nicer than anything I had been staying in since I left them. We walked up flight after flight of stairs, still paying close attention to her and finding it strange that she wasn’t winded at all by the distance we had gone up. Maybe she was used to it? Maybe I’m overthinking everything?

I pushed the thought aside and she unlocked her door letting me into the apartment first. The place was much nicer than the building, she didn't have much but what she did have went together. There were no pictures of anything and no real decorations, just a simple layout, like she hadn’t been there long. I’m overthinking again.

“Do you speak English?” She asked amongst my inspection of her apartment. Her english sounded okay, but the Russian accent was heavy and more alarming than I would have liked.

“Yes.” I replied.

“That’s great. The bathroom is just down the hall, on the right.” She pointed to the hallway to the left of the door where I was standing,

“Thank you.” I quickly disappeared into the restroom, removed my backpack and grabbed a clean shirt to put on. I tried my best to rinse out the dirty shirt and dry it before putting it back in my bag, but it was just going to have to be a little wet. I was about to head out when I looked in the mirror one last time. I took in a deep breath and just reminded myself to remain calm. There was no way that she was HYDRA, they didn’t know where I was. There was no way for them to know.

Eventually I calmed down enough to step outside the restroom and right as I opened the door I saw her coming out of her room, in a new shirt and a bottle of water in her hands, but she seemed a little more nervous now...which made me nervous.

“So, I’m really sorry about the cupcake. The baker down the street had given it to me as a birthday gift.” She said, once again apologizing. She also seemed a lot more shy, having not looked me in the eye since we got into her apartment.

“It’s your birthday?” I asked, surprised.

“Yep.”

“Mine too.” When I said that she finally looked up at me.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“So birthday boy, do you have a name?” She smiled at me but immediately tried to hide it. I just looked at her and I hesitated because I was paranoid and because I wasn’t sure if I wanted her to know my name, but then again HYDRA never called me by my name let alone my nickname.

“Bucky.”

“Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you.” I tried to come off a little less tense but I think she could definitely tell that I was.

“Nice to meet you too. Can I get you anything? Water, food?”

“A water would be nice.” I was starving but I really didn’t want to impose, especially if she was an innocent bystander like I was trying to convince myself she was.

She made her way over to the kitchen and I absentmindedly followed her, just watching her move again. She was so graceful, there was just this sort of ease about the way she moved, almost mesmerizing. She looked back at me briefly to hand me the bottle of water and then grabbed a plum from a bowl on the counter.  

She took a big bite of the fruit, trying her hardest not to look at me as she thought real hard about something, wrinkles forming on her forehead from the effort. I watched her lips move, the act itself being more mesmerizing than her movements; It was such a strange action from me. Keep my eyes on the ground, head down low, easy steps to follow and yet I couldn’t help but look at her.

I had to distract myself so I opened the bottle of water and nearly chugged the whole thing.

“Can I ask you something?” She said, cutting the thick tension in the room as if she had a knife in her hands.

“Sure.”

“Have we met before? I know it’s a weird question and I don’t want to freak you out, but sometimes I have problems with my memory and I just feel like I have seen you before.”

“I don’t think we have but I’m kind of in the same boat as you. My memory is not in the best shape.”

“Then can I ask something else?”

“Okay.” Now she was making me very nervous. She hesitated before asking her next question, obviously just as nervous to ask.

“Do you know what HYDRA is?” I automatically took a few steps back, wanting to get as far away as I could.

“Who are you?” I asked, every single nerve on high alert and telling me to get away as fast as possible.

“So you do?” She seemed...scared. We couldn’t tear our eyes away from each other, watching each other intently.

“Yes.”

“Can I explain myself?”

“If you try anything, you'll be dead before you know it.”

“I’m a soldier, the very first. I was born on March 10, 1901. My father was in charge of the HYDRA Siberian Facility and he willingly gave me over to be experimented on. I don’t remember much after that, the only thing that keeps running through my head, the only thing that I have never forgotten was putting a bullet in his head. It was August 17, 1963.” She looked upset and I couldn’t help but relax a little at her words. She was like me, she was running from them. And for the first time in a long time I began to trust again.

“You’re a soldier?”

“Yes.”

“I am too. James Buchanan Barnes. I was born March 10, 1917. I fought in World War II with my best friend. I fell off a train and lost my arm. HYDRA found me and made me an arm of metal and then they made me their soldier.”

“I guess we really are in the same boat.” She relaxed too. The tension that had spiked as soon as she mentioned them was gone again and the thing that remained was that feeling from before, the attraction.

“It would appear that way.”

“So why are you in Bucharest?”

“About a year ago I had been on a mission. They sent me after the Avengers and I tried to kill my friend. I don’t want to hurt anyone and I don’t want HYDRA to find me. Anywhere I have gone just didn’t feel right and I was too nervous. Romania is what I thought of, something easy, familiar almost. I just got here but I want to start over really.”

“You can stay here if you want. I know it’s not ideal but I have a pull out couch and you wouldn’t have to pay for anything, at least until you get on your feet. And I’m sure we could help each other.”

“You want to be around someone like me?”

“We’re in the same boat remember?” She smiled at me and I couldn’t help but smile back, relief washing over both of us in waves. We would be okay.

.

God...her smile. It had had a way of lighting up a room. 

I just stared at the cupcake...thinking about her smile. 

Steve had left the room to find a lighter for the candle and I just held the pastry in my hand. 

A vanilla cupcake with white frosting and blue sprinkles. 

Her favorite. 

I laughed, how it was her favorite, I didn’t know. It was the only flavor she had ever tried. 

I don’t know what I was expecting the cupcake to do, but I stared and stared at it hoping it would...do nothing I guess. It’s a cupcake. It wasn’t meant to do anything. 

It made her smile though, so that was something. 

But not now. There was no smile now. Just a cupcake. 

I leaned over, elbows propped up on the side of her bed, my left hand holding up my head and the right holding the cupcake. I stared at the little cake decoration, declaring that it was my 100th birthday. Yippee for me. 

“You better not drop that on me.” I heard, whispered to me. It took me a second to realize what just happened. 

Now...some people would call me crazy for assuming first that it was the cupcake that had said that. Then again lets remember that the only other person who had been in the room had just been in a coma for 6 months and would be unstable and possibly kill us all if awoken from said coma. Also I probably could have allowed myself to leave the hospital every now and then so I wouldn’t go insane but that was a whole other issue. 

But no...it was definitely her who had said it. I don’t know how but she was awake. 

I genuinely smiled for the first time since we put her in a coma, placed the cupcake on the table beside the bed and grabbed her hand in mine. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”  

.

STEVE’S POV

I was really hoping that Tony’s plan worked. I told Bucky that I was leaving the room to get a lighter but I was kind of hoping that Y/N would be awake by now.

Tony said that these robots were in the right place and from what he could tell, she would be safe enough to wake up. So that’s what we did. 

We waned her off the coma medication and with the serum burning off most medications quickly, we thought she would be awake already. It took a little longer than we thought though. 

That was this morning, while Bucky was sleeping, and I had bought two cupcakes in the hope that she would be awake already but I guess we just had to give her more time. 

To make Bucky less suspicious of me, I walked back into the room within a reasonable amount of time and looked over at him. He was on the bed with Y/N, arms wrapped around her, his head resting on her chest and she was awake. She was so calm, just running her fingers through his hair. 

“Y/N?” I asked. 

“Hey Steve.”

“You’re awake.”

“Yeah. I’m not really sure about what happened, but he’s not really in the mood to tell me anything. He seems kind of angry.” She pointed at Bucky who had his eyes closed and had a scowl on his face. 

“Come on Bucky...you should be happy right now.” He sat up and glared at me. 

“I should be happy? I was happy and then realized that there was no natural way for her to be awake right now. All three of you perfectly explained that in order to wake her up we had to do some robot thing and something about moving the serum around. I know for a fact that I didn’t approve of that so then she should be asleep right? Not unless all of you lied to me and did it anyway. So I should be happy? I’ll be happy when you tell me that you didn’t do anything stupid, like expirementing on the one person I told you not to!”

“Bucky—” 

“No! I had one request in all of this. I said no experiments! No guessing, no trials and errors! Nothing but answers!”

“We didn’t have the answers! It’s been six months and we couldn’t keep doing this. There’s only so much failure we can handle before it’s time to try something else. I let Tony do this because you needed her to be awake and frankly, so did we.”

“Okay...I’m thoroughly confused now.” We both looked at Y/N, who was just taking in everything we said. 

So we stopped the argument for the meantime and took some time to catch her up on the last six months. She read all of his letters and Bucky seemed to calm down some, which was good. And while we explained everything it gave Tony and Bruce enough time to come to the room and explain the more scientific things, everything about the robots and the serum. 

She seemed to be following okay but I could see that she seemed a little overwhelmed by everything. 

“Why don’t we give the two of you a moment?” I said when the room was quiet. I ushered Tony and Bruce out of the room and we waited to see what Y/N wanted to do next. Everything was up to her at this point. 

. 

BUCKY’S POV

I was now sitting in the chair beside her bed and staring at the wall because I didn’t want Y/N to think I was mad at her. 

“Bucky…”

“Yeah?”

“Look at me.” I took a deep breath and tried to soften my gaze before looking at her. 

Even after being in a coma for six months, she was the most beautiful woman in the whole world. Seeing her smile, even though it wasn’t a full one, made me soften up; I felt my shoulders relax and my face unscrunched from its glare. 

“Hi.” She said. 

“Hey doll.” 

“There he is.” 

“I really missed you.” I felt my eyes start to tear up.

“Come here.” I climbed back on the bed, sitting right beside her as close as possible, and she grabbed my hands, holding them in hers. I just sat there, looking at her hands, feeling her touch again, but not really having anything to say and yet having so much I should say. “Why are you so upset?” 

“I just...I didn’t want them to do anything that could hurt you. And they went ahead and just did this experiment anyway, knowing that I had already said no and was not okay with trying this on you without more research to back it up. God knows, you’ve been experimented on enough and they couldn’t tell me if this was going to work or what the side effects were going to be and I didn’t want you to be in any pain.” I was like a fountain, just spewing everything I was feeling. I needed her to know everything. I needed her to know how badly I had messed up. 

“But I’m not in any pain.” 

“But you were...and everything was so bad and I didn’t know how to help you.” 

“Bucky…” 

“I hurt you. I had to hurt you to stop you. I had to break your arm so the whole building wouldn’t collapse on us. And then they had to put you under and you were gone...you were gone for six months!” I was sobbing by this point. I had pushed everything so far down that I didn’t realize just how hard I was beating myself up over everything that had happened. “They kept talking about the serum and how they didn’t know how it worked, they didn’t know anything other than what HYDRA had written down about the formula. And they said that they thought the best thing would be to activate you. To just straight up activate you and hope that the serum would burn away like it did the first time and yet they couldn’t even confirm that that would happen. So what, then you just do a quick little mission and all is fine? No! They don’t understand what we went through, they don’t understand what those words do to us or what we have to go through afterwards. I couldn’t put you through that, not after everything you’ve been through! All I ever wanted was for everything to be okay. I wanted you to be awake and I wanted us to move here so that everything could be like it was in Bucharest. I wanted you to be happy.” She just stared at me, knowing that I wasn’t done lifting the weight from my shoulders. “There was so much I couldn’t do. I couldn’t save you, I couldn’t stop Antonoff, I couldn’t find the answers to wake you up and I obviously couldn’t keep them from injecting some weird robots into you. I couldn’t do anything to help you.” 

“First of all...all of that is untrue.” She reached out and started to wipe my tears away. “You have helped me more than anyone ever could. You helped bring back all of my memories, you protected me when we left Bucharest, you fought for me when I was activated, but most of all you love me like no one ever has before. There are things that are just out of our control. Antonoff was never going to back down and even though we all knew he outnumbered us you still fought him. With the serum...there’s a lot to still understand and there are reasons that HYDRA never shared or even wrote down the things that were most important to them. And the robots, well I’m not exactly sure about those yet but it sounds like Tony, Bruce and Steve had the right idea. They were thinking of you, thinking about how they were going to get me back to you. So yes we’ve been through a lot, probably more than any one person should ever deserve to go through, but I’m not upset with you or with Steve or Bruce or Tony. What matters to me is that I’m here with you and I’m okay. We can still have that life that we always dreamed of and we’ll figure out a way to permanently fix this serum problem of mine. We just need to take each day a step at a time and we’ll get through this just like we always do.”  

“There’s just—”

“Nope.”

“But I—”

“No.”

“Y/N—”

She pulled me to her and kissed me the way I should have kissed her when I saw that she was awake. 

“This is all I want right now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

“I just—you were gone for so long. And I didn’t know what would be the best thing or the worst thing to do. I didn't want to hurt you and I didn’t want to make it worse. I just got so...scared.”

“You don’t have to shoulder this alone anymore. And you definitely don’t need to be scared, when are you going to learn that I’m always going to come back to you?”

“Maybe you should remind me.”

“You just want me to kiss you again.”

“Can you blame me?”

This time I kissed her, moving on the bed to lay down beside her so that I could feel as much of her as I could.

I pushed everything out of my head and just allowed myself to feel normal again, to love the woman that I loved more than anything in the world. It had been six months since I had kissed her, since I had held her, since I had done anything with her resembling the life we once had. It was this moment where the haze had cleared and for the first time in half a year that everything was okay.

.

Y/N’S POV

We kissed like two people starved. It was a mixture of, for me, not wanting him to feel bad about everything that had happened to me, for him, not having any real connection to me in six months, and genuine need to be close to one another.

We heard the door open and were cut off when Tony, who had his eyes covered, interrupted us.

“Person coming in! I don’t want to see any body parts that are normally hidden!”

“Tony.” Steve said, slapping his arm and making him look at him who wasn’t hiding his eyes.

“We just wanted to make sure everything was okay now.” Bruce said.

“Yeah everything’s good.” Bucky said to me with a smile on his lips.

“Good, we’re very happy that you’re awake Y/N.” Steve said, smiling at me.

“I am too. But I actually would be a lot happier if I could get some coffee.”

“You and your coffee.” Bucky mocked.

“You’re the one who got me hooked on it.”

“I know.”

“Do you mind?”

“I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you.”

He climbed off the bed and put his shoes back on. I grabbed his hand before he was able to get too far and pulled him back to me one more time, giving him a quick kiss.

“Happy Birthday Bucky.”

“Happy Birthday Y/N.”

He gave me one more kiss before leaving me with the other three guys in the room.

“So I just have a couple of questions to ask before Bucky gets back.”

“Yeah?” Tony asked.

“What are the side effects of using these robot things? Or I guess having the serum so concentrated?”

“We actually don’t know, we weren’t able to test this outside of the lab.” Bruce confirmed my worry.

“I was just asking because...I can’t feel my legs.”

They just looked at me with horror in their eyes and fear that maybe they hadn’t been right in doing this experiment so soon.

And yet the most feared question, the one that was most likely in all of our minds: 

What was I going to tell Bucky?

.

Let me know what you think here

PART TWENTY-FIVE

[xxx-cat-xxx]

Peter running away

So, this fic.It wasn´t the prompt, it was just me. I wrote a draft, then changed the storyline and deleted it all. I talked to @awesomesockes, changed the storyline again, and wrote about 2k words more than originally planned. Then amazing @whumphoarder beta´d the hell out of it, for which I´m infinitely grateful. I hope that it´s sort of acceptable now.

Hurt Tony, hurt Peter, Irondad. May and Bruce also play their part. Angst, injury, blood, panic attack, vomiting.

One of These Days

Peter’s spider senses don’t even have time to warn him before the barrel of a gun presses hard into his temple. Tony is still in the middle of an angry lecture while simultaneously blasting a hole into the wall and relaying their status to the rest of the team, so Peter doesn’t blame him when he completely misses the incident.

“ - told you a million times that no means no, but of course Peter Parker has to know better and follow me inside when I explicitly told him not to, because he’s got years of experience fighting evil and -”

“Mr. Stark?”

“Don’t. Interrupt. Me. I have every right to be pissed at you -“

“Mr Stark.” This time it’s a much more feminine voice calling his name, and finally Tony turns his head around. “Step out of the suit.”

In a split second, Tony takes in Peter, the gun against his head, and the woman aiming it. The fingers of his right hand start to move, inconspicuously signalling his armour to do who-knows-what. But it seems their enemy caught the attempt as well.

“Get out of the suit,” she orders. ”Right now.”

“Okay, okay, Ms Trunchbull, no need to get aggressive,” Tony says. He orders the suit to open with a rough gesture before stepping out of it.

Tony is still wearing a Foo Fighters shirt with an oversized print of Dave Grohl’s face, paired with the sweatpants he was working in before the Avengers were called out for the mission, all of which would be funny to Peter if he wasn’t busy decidedly not freaking out about the whole situation. He desperately wishes that the two seconds of warning Tony had were enough for him to do whatever is necessary to get them out of here, because Peter has fucked up big this time.

“Now,” the woman says, a bit of triumph playing into her otherwise calm tone, “make the suit come over to me. Slowly.”

“Not a fan of turning over my property,” Tony says. He’s playing for time, his eyes seeking Peter’s and signalling something urgently. Be ready, Peter reads, and hopes with all he has that he’s right.

“Stark. I won’t wait any longer.”

The woman pushes the gun harder into Peter’s temple. He tries not to flinch, not to show how loud and fast his heart is beating inside his chest. But Tony picks it up, anyway—Peter can see the briefest moment of panic crossing his expression before it is replaced by determination. He gives the suit a signal and it slowly starts moving towards their captor. Peter holds his breath. Any second now, and -

“Down!” Tony shouts in the same moment that the suit blows up and all hell breaks loose.

The shockwave of the explosion hits Peter and throws him off his feet even before he has time to duck. He feels the gun going off more than he hears it, and this is when he is sure that he’s done for. At least I died on a mission, he thinks as he drops, but it’s cold comfort, with nobody saved and nothing gained from dying in a stupid ambush.

But Peter doesn’t die. It’s worse.

There’s a choked inhale on his left, a muttered curse, and then Tony’s body hits the ground, limp and lifeless.

Peter’s brain skips. Suddenly he is kneeling next to the older man, bending over him, pressing his hands into Tony´s stomach where the bullet hit him. There’s blood all over his palms, thick and wet and too much, and he’s never known how bright the colour red can be.

*

The next thing he knows, he’s lying in a SHIELD medical van. May isn’t there. Tony isn’t there. He’s alone, the world is all wrong, and it is completely his fault.

Peter’s suit is pulled down to his waist, revealing a number of ugly bruises covering his torso. There’s a dull ache all over his body, an IV plugged into the back of his hand.

“… ran right into the trap.”

His enhanced hearing picks up someone talking into a phone just outside of the van. The voice is unfamiliar, but given the scenery, he’s pretty sure that it must be a SHIELD agent—a medic, maybe.

“Stark´s in surgery right now, they say there won´t be any lasting damage. Lucky bastard. We told them a million times that it’s silly to take a child on missions. But you know Stark, he’s even more stubborn than he is rich. Hope he learned his lesson.”

The realization that Tony made it through is dwarfed by the enormous wave of guilt that washes over Peter.

He doesn’t think when he stumbles down from the gurney and onto his feet. The IV is pulled out even before the dizziness in his head has settled. The suit follows next. He grabs an oversized SHIELD sweater from a hook where someone has left it and throws it on without caring how the sleeves dangle, empty, over his hands.

And then Peter runs.

*

Several of his ribs must have been broken in the explosion, as each pace is accompanied by a stab of agony around his chest, and there’s a burning kind of pain on his shins and forearms where the skin has been grazed. But it’s good. It gives him structure, distraction, something to mute his thoughts while he makes his way through the city, not caring about which direction he’s going and never looking back.

Peter stops only when the pain gets so bad that he can’t breathe anymore. Then he stumbles into the entryway of a house in a shady neighbourhood, presses himself into a corner and wraps his arms around his knees. It’s cold, and for a moment he longs for the suit’s integrated heater before remembering that these days are over now. That Tony will take the suit, again, and this time there won’t be any second chances. Peter is not even angry. He probably deserves far worse.

It’s hours later, when the cold starts to seep into his bones and he can’t stop trembling, that he starts to realize the gravity of the situation he’s brought on himself. He doesn’t have money, or even his phone. He definitely won’t be knocking on people’s doors at night and ask for help, not in boxers, not with blood still smeared all over his arms and legs.

The pain around his ribs hasn’t let up; they’re not healing as they should between the cold slowing him down and the hunger gnawing in his stomach. The ache and exhaustion are making him lightheaded.

He doesn’t realize when he lies down, but at some point, he finds himself curled up on the floor, biting his lips bloody in order to stop his teeth from chattering. He’s not sure if he could get up even if he wanted to. He’s not sure if he cares either. The last thought that comes before he passes out is whether he´ll at least be allowed to say good-bye to Karen.

*

It’s Bruce who finds him. He must have been trying to rouse him for a while, because there’s fear edged around his mouth and a hint of green on his neck when Peter opens his eyes.

“Finally.” He sighs with relief when Peter blearily glances up at him. “What on earth were you thinking?”

“Nothing,” Peter mutters. He shakes his head awake, then stops dizzily, but the world doesn’t cease spinning around him. The memories come back in a disorienting rush.

He closes his eyes again.

“No, you stay awake with me, Peter,” Bruce says with an urgency that somehow manages to get through the haziness clouding his thoughts. “Here, drink this.”

He presses a bottle of water into Peter’s hands. His fingers are numb, and half of it spills down onto his shirt while he tries to drink. The drops feel warm on his icy skin.

“Are you hurt?” Bruce asks.

“No,” Peter says without caring to check whether that’s true. Then, because he has to know, even if he’s scared of the reply, he asks, “Is Mr. Stark okay?”

“Yes, Peter. They had to do an emergency surgery, but he is stable now. He mistook me for Jarvis the first time he woke up, but once he’s thinking clearer he’ll want to know where you are. I’m glad I found you before he realized what’s going on, or else he’d probably go looking for you with IV bags trailing behind him.” Bruce chuckles a bit before he turns serious again.  “We were all worried, kid, your aunt most of all.”

“May called you?”

Bruce nods. “She thought you’d spent the night at the compound, but when you didn’t message in the morning, she got nervous.”

“What did you tell her?” Peter asks, his voice trembling a bit.

“Well, Jarvis picked up your face on the security footage just before that. Otherwise we wouldn’t have had a choice but tell her the truth. Pepper told her that you were at training and will call her back once you’re done.”  

Pepper lied for me, Peter thinks. He wouldn’t have thought it possible to feel even more guilty, but somehow it happens. It must have shown on his face, because Bruce’s expression softens visibly.

“Look, Peter. I’m not great at people stuff,” he admits. “You need someone else to talk to right now. But I promise that nobody is angry at you. Let’s get back to the compound, and you’ll see everything is alright.”

You can’t know, Peter thinks. You weren’t there when I nearly got Tony killed. You weren’t there the last time he took the suit.

But he gets up all the same, steadying himself on the wall, and whispers back, “Okay.”

*

“Pepper made me promise not to crack any jokes that could potentially aggravate your guilt, but honestly, it’s so hard to resist right now.” Tony grins through half-lidded eyes.

Bruce has forced Peter to call and reassure May, shower, eat, and drink a litre of water before finally letting him see Tony. The engineer is propped up in a hospital bed, tubes and wires sticking out of him at odd places, and, in his own words, he’s high as a kite.

“You look like a sad puppy, kid,” he giggles, and Tony Stark giggling is definitely the weirdest thing Peter has seen this week, Ned’s YouTube history included. “Like those kids they use in aid commercials for orphanages.”

Peter doesn’t know what to say. He’d braced himself for a lot of things, but this is definitely not what he expected.

“But seriously? Leaving your suit and taking off?” Tony continues.

He’d barely been awake when Bruce had explained the situation, so Peter can’t help but admire that he even remembers their talk despite the mashed-up state his brain must be in from the post-surgery meds cocktail. “I understand that SHIELD medics are scary, and you’re definitely not the first one to bolt from a van, but that’s more a move I’d expect from Barton. Or myself.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” Peter starts. “I just - “

“See? Told you he’s doing okay,” Bruce interrupts, opening the door with his shoulder since his hands are full between the two smoothies he’s carrying. He sets one on Tony’s nightstand and presses the other into Peter’s hand.

“So, how are you feeling?” he asks, facing Tony.

“’m good,” the man declares unconvincingly. He rubs his eyes with one hand and his face screws up in pain at the movement. “If I promise not to stand up too fast, can I get back to the workshop?”

“Sure,” Bruce snorts, not bothering to hide the sarcasm. He fiddles with the IV and Tony’s features relax visibly after a few moments. “Tell me, what is it you’re working on?”

“It’s top-secret, Brucie.” Tony frowns as if trying to concentrate, his eyelids drooping ever so slowly. “’m tired. Tell Dum-E…make some coffee…”

The rest of the sentence is lost as Tony’s eyes fall shut and his hand goes slack over his face. Bruce places it back down on the mattress with a gentleness Peter has never noticed about him before.

“You should get some rest, Peter,” Bruce says, turning back to him. “Your aunt is on the way, but knowing the rush hour traffic, she’ll take at least half an hour to get here.”

“Yeah,” Peter mutters. The realization that she left work early for him—because of him—adds another knot of guilt to his stomach. He doesn’t want to go out and face Pepper or the other Avengers. “Can I just sit here for a few minutes?”

“Sure.” Bruce gives him a once-over. “But promise that you’ll finish that smoothie.”

Peter nods. He waits until Bruce shuts the door before looking back at his mentor.

The hospital gown Tony is wearing has slipped out of position, exposing the large network of scars on his chest where the arc reactor had once been. It’s the first time Peter sees it up close. He thinks of the massive hole that must have been there in Tony’s body to create such a scar, and then thinks of the bullet that tore through him because of Peter’s stupidity.

Peter blinks and suddenly feels himself back on his knees, Tony’s blood soaking through his clothes. His stomach clenches. Peter swallows thickly, tasting the sandwich he had earlier at the back of his throat. He sets the smoothie down on the table as far as possible away from him.

There’s still blood under the fingernails of his right hand. He picks at it, but it won’t come off—just sticks to the nail of the other hand instead. Peter can feel his breaths speeding up, his chest going tight, and suddenly tears are streaming down his face.

He stumbles to the adjacent bathroom and lets himself sink onto the tiled floor. He hugs his legs to his chest and cries and cries and cries, over everyone he’d put in danger and everyone he couldn’t save.

There’s blood everywhere and air won’t reach his lungs. He’s sobbing, then choking, then gagging. Bile runs down his chin as his vision starts going black.

“Breathe, Peter, in and out,” a voice says firmly, and Peter tries. The first inhale does nothing to help him feel better. The second as least sends a bit of oxygen back to his brain. The third brings sick with it.

“Over the toilet,” Tony directs, pushing him towards the bowl. Peter bends over it and heaves up the remainders of a sandwich, the broken ribs screaming in pain, tears still running freely down his cheeks.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he chokes between retches.

“It’s alright, kid,” Tony replies, his hand steady on Peter’s back. “You’re okay.”

Peter is sure he isn’t, but at least he can breathe again, and the nausea is slowly letting up. He takes the glass of water Tony hands him and rinses his mouth.

“Now. If you think you’re done, we should consider moving back to the room. I’ve got approximately 18 seconds until I pass out, and I’d really, really, like to avoid doing so on these bathroom tiles.”

Peter looks up at Tony, who is standing, albeit barely, colour draining rapidly from his face.

“I’m sorry,“ he repeats, wiping his mouth roughly and getting up.

“Save it for later,” Tony says, his voice a bit shaky. He closes his eyes when Peter puts an arm around his mentor’s shoulders to support him back to the bed.

“Should I call a doctor?” Peter asks hesitantly.

“Nah, just - need a moment,” Tony says through gritted teeth. It’s evident that he’s hurting, but the last thing Peter is going to do is call for help against his will.

They sit on the edge of the mattress for a bit, Tony breathing deeply in an attempt to get the pain under control, Peter sniffling occasionally.

“Now, will you tell me what that little episode was about?” Tony asks. He takes a deep breath and finally opens his eyes.

“Nothing,” Peter says quickly. But he can still taste the bile at the back of his mouth - still feel the blood slick and warm on his fingers.

“Peter, “ Tony urges, “I’ve got a hole shot through me, I’m half-drugged up, and I’m definitely not a patient person on my best days. So please, let’s just skip to the part where I have consoled you enough that you open up to me and tell me why the hell you were gone the whole night and then had a breakdown in my bathroom.”

“It was all my fault,” he whispers, finally letting out the words that have been echoing in his head for a so long. He doesn’t look up at Tony. “I followed you into that building, and you got hurt because I screwed up.”

“Yeah, I already know that much,” Tony says flippantly. “So what?” He waves his hand in a casual gesture. “We are superheroes, or whatever you call that nowadays. Getting shot is an occupational hazard.”

“But…” Peter is at a loss for words. “I didn’t listen to you,” he says helplessly.

“And you certainly learned your lesson.” With a groan, Tony pulls his legs up on the hospital bed and lets himself sink back against the pillows. His words reverberate in Peter’s head and the memory of the medic saying the same line about Tony comes back to him.

“You’re-You’re still going to let me go on missions? You’re not gonna take the suit?” he asks, his heart beating fast, as if saying the words loud would make Tony change his mind immediately.

“The suit?” Tony gives a short laugh that turns into a hacked cough. “It’s not like you’d stop being Spider-Man if I take the suit away. And I wouldn’t want you to, either. The last thing we need is another vigilante roaming around the streets of New York. I’d rather be the one in control of your activities than watching you go underground.”

He grimaces painfully as he dabs a bit of blood from his lips. “Internal injuries, nothing to worry about,” he adds upon Peter’s alarmed gaze.

“You-You should probably -”

“You are not in any position to tell me what to do, young man,” Tony warns. “Just because I’m not going all Howard Stark on you doesn’t mean I’m not still pissed off. ”

“Yeah,” Peter breathes. “Okay.”

He knows that he should be relieved. And he is, sort of. But the guilt is still sitting hard and tight around his heart.

His thoughts are interrupted when Bruce comes back to tell him that May just arrived.

“You’re better now?” Tony asks when Peter hesitantly gets up from the mattress. The pain in his mentor’s eyes is duller, but he looks infinitely more tired.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Peter says.

“Good.” Tony is slurring a little now, his eyes fighting to stay open. “See you in the lab tomorrow.”

“In your dreams,” Bruce snorts. “You try again to get out of this bed in the next 48 hours and Pepper will lock down the suits for a month.”

“That’s not fair,” Tony protests weakly. Bruce hides a smile.

*

May still smells like hospital disinfectant, but she also smells like home.

“So, what happened?” she asks once they are sitting in the car. “The last time you had this look on your face was when you and Ned used up my perfume for a science experiment. And I’ve seen the news, so don’t tell me that it was just a training weekend.”

“I - Mr. Stark got hurt. Because of me,” Peter confesses. His voice sounds so, so small.

“I see,” May says. Then she doesn’t say anything for a while. And it’s good, because she doesn’t ask how he is feeling, or what he needs, or any other questions he can’t answer. She keeps an arm around him while Happy drops them back at the house, then nudges him into changing back to his own clothes and makes him the largest mug of hot chocolate he’s ever received in his life.

He’s sipping it when a bit of it drops on his pyjamas. It’s not red or even remotely resembling blood, but it’s enough to make the tears start all over again.

“I- I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he mumbles, wiping his eyes futilely.

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” May says. “Sometimes the world can be too big, even for Spider-Man. It’s okay to be overwhelmed.”

She hugs him tightly, holds him close until the tears dry out.

“What, none of your genius superheroes thought of simply giving you a hug?” she teases, and he chuckles through the sobs.

He’s not alright, but then, nobody ever is. Especially not superheroes.

[barnesandrogersfanfics]

Unexpected Arrival - 6

Pairing: Bucky x Reader, possible Steve x Reader

Summary: As if working with the Avengers wasn’t exciting enough…. an unexpected visitor is about to change your life forever.

"There you guys are" Nat stated as me and Bucky walked into the common room together "where you been?"

"Buck was just helping me with something...."

"You’re not gonna end up pregnant again are you?" She smirked.

"Oh my god" i shook my head feeling my cheeks burn "really Nat?"

"What? Im just curious"

"Leave them alone" Steve scolded her as he rocked Evie gently in his arms.

"Fine! Y/N fancy coming shopping with me?" Nat asked looking hopeful.

"Id love to but im not really feeling up to it just yet"

"Okay, how about online shopping? I know you still need to get some things"

"I can do that" i nodded smiling at her.

"Lets go to my room, daddy and uncle Steve can watch miss Evie here"

"Um... ok" i turned to look at Bucky and Steve who both nodded and smiled.

"We'll be fine sweetheart" Bucky said "we know where to find you if we need you"

"Okay, if she gets hungry give her the bottle?"

"Sure, I've got this don't worry".

"Bottle? I thought you were breast feeding?" Nat looked at me "you decide to switch to formula?"

"Don't ask.... lets just go" i blushed and quickly walked out the room before i died of embarrassment.

"It was so humiliating Nat!! He was milking me like a damn cow! But i was in so much pain....." i was saying to her after she made me tell her everything, my face buried in my hands as i thought about what had happened, Nat was laughing so hard i reached over and shoved her.

"Hey!"

"Its not funny!! I really dont stand a chance with him now do i!?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean if he wasn't interested before this....then i stand no chance now he’s had to do that!" I threw myself back on her bed dramatically "i thought the birth was the hardest part of having Evie.... but my god was i wrong! Sure it was the most painful part" i laughed "but all this stuff that comes after..... the hormones... the leaky boobs.... and having to deal with all this with Bucky.... knowing he wont ever feel the way i feel...."

"Okay listen to me, you might not see it but that man out there is crazy about you!"

"Are you mad?" I laughed shaking my head at my best friend.

"Maybe, its not impossible" she shrugged making me chuckle "but I'm telling you, Bucky loves you. I see the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is looking, even before you guys had a kid together"

"If he loved me like you say he does, why did he act like nothing happened in Alaska??"

"Now that i don't know" she shrugged while opening up the online shopping pages on the big screen "you'd have to ask him".

(Buckys POV)

"You okay Buck?" Steve asked making me turn to look at him "you've been unusually quiet"

"Yeah... yeah im fine. Just thinking"

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Its just... never mind" i shook my head feeling like a dumb ass.

"Talk to me, whats on your mind?"

"I thought i could do this, you know? I thought i could be a dad to Evie and just carry on being friends with Y/N.... but its so hard not to feel more"

"Are you saying you have feelings for Y/N?"

"Ive always had feelings for her Steve, how do you think we got here! I have loved that girl from the second i met her" i finally admitted with a huge smile, it felt good to finally get it off my chest.

"This is big Buck! But i dont get it....why did you act like nothing happened after you guys slept together? You ignored her.... dated other women...."

"Wait how do you know.... has she spoken to you about what happened?" My smile dropped as i sat forward looking at Steve.

"No! No of course not!" Steve said quickly clearly lying! He was the worst liar ever!

"What did she say?"

"Nothing...."

"Steve i swear to god if you don't tell me...."

"I cant say okay, i promised her i wouldn't say anything"

"As my best and oldest friend, you better tell me what you know Steve"

Steve exhaled slowly shaking his head as he looked down at my sleeping daughter in his arms.

"Look all im going to say is if you love her, you need to tell her. Because she doesn't believe that you could possibly love her.... that she's not good enough"

"What??" I sat shaking my head "why would she ever think that??"

"You tell me Buck"

Then it suddenly made sense, i understood what Steve meant.

"Shit" i muttered pushing my hair back from my face "its because of how i acted after....."

"Why'd you do it?"

"Because i thought she deserved better, someone better than me. She's so good.... in every way and im..... well we all know how fucked up i am"

"Bucky you are not fucked up! We know that.... she knows that"

"How could she ever love me Steve?"

"I dont know pal but she does"

"What??"

"You never heard this from me you hear me??!" Steve said looking around to make sure no one else was around and i nodded quickly "Y/N loves you.... she's in love with you you idiot! She has been for a while"

"She never said anything....."

"Neither did you! She was hoping that after Alaska things would change"

"But then i ignored her and pushed her away...how could i have been so stupid!!!"

"She's convinced herself that you regretted it, that you could never love her and so she's trying to be your friend..."

"What do i do Steve?"

"Thats your call Buck"

I huffed falling back against the sofa, was Steve telling me the truth?? Was is possible that Y/N loved me??

"Can i ask you something?" I asked turning my head to face Steve, he nodded and waited for me to ask my question "do you have feelings for her?"

"W..what??" Steve stuttered as his cheeks flushed red.

"Its a simple question Steve"

"Its not a simple answer Buck...."

That night i was in bed laying on my side watching Evie sleeping in her basket next to me. The bedroom door opened and closed gently and i already knew it was Bucky, i felt the bed dip as he laid down and then his arm wrapped around my waist as he pulled himself closer.

"Hey doll" he mumbled quietly before pressing a kiss to my neck.

"Hey"

"How was your evening with Nat?"

"It was nice, i ordered some nipple pads so no more embarrassing leaks!" I said chuckling, Bucky was laughing quietly behind me "and i figured out that damn pump.... the weirdest feeling ever!"

"Oh yeah? Even weirder than what we had to do earlier?" He laughed and tightened his hold on me.

"Definitely! your way was more enjoyable" i teased but also felt my cheeks burn at the confession, thank god it was dark so he couldn't see!

"Well I'm always happy to help".

We laid in a comfortable silence both watching our daughter sleep, Bucky was stroking my stomach where his hand rested, i wasnt even sure he knew he was doing it.

"Hey Buck?"

"Yeah doll?"

"I need to ask you something...."

"Okay"

"I dont want you to get mad though, im just curious...."

"Spit it out sweetheart, you can ask me anything"

I took a deep breath gathering my nerves, i had to get this over with!!

"Why did you act like nothing happened that night in Alaska?"

His hand stilled on my stomach for a few seconds and i felt him hold his breath.

"You know what, forget i asked..." i said starting to get up but he pulled me back down to the bed holding me close again.

"Dont go" he said quietly "you just caught me off guard.... you really wanna know why?"

"Yes...."

"I acted like nothing happened because when i woke up i realised you deserved better than me doll. After everything I've done in the past.... i don't deserve someone like you. Id only be a burden on you"

"What....?" I asked not believing what i was hearing, i turned around so i was facing him "how can you say that?"

"Its true" he said giving me a sad smile.

"You’re an idiot James Barnes" i shook my head "you’re not a burden, you are the best man i know" i admitted cupping his face in my hands.

"Well thats not true.... you know Steve"

"You’re still the best man i know" i smiled at him meaning every word.

"But the things ive done...."

"That wasnt you, that was Hydra! If you had been in control of your mind you would never had done any of those things"

"But i still did it" he said sadly.

"It. Wasnt. You" i said again looking him in the eyes "you are a good man Bucky, i know you find that hard to hear but its true. And i will tell you everyday for the rest of my life if i have to" i smiled at him before leaning forward and gently kissing him.

"Doll...." he said pulling away from the kiss, shit! had i really just kissed him??

"Im sorry! I shouldn't have...."

"I love you!" he confessed instantly shutting me up.

"What did you just say....?"

"I said i love you.... im IN Love with you. Ive loved you since the second i met you" he admitted, i could tell by the look in his eyes that admitting this terrified him.

"I love you too" i told him truthfully, if he was being honest it was only fair that i did the same.

"You do?"

"Yes" i whispered before his mouth came crashing down on mine. His hands felt like they were everywhere and it was the best feeling in the world right now. It quickly became heated, i could feel his hardness rubbing against me.

"Buck....as much as i want you inside me right now i cant.... not yet" i pulled away gasping for air.

"I know baby, this is enough for now" he said as he trailed kisses down my neck and continued rubbing up against me.

"You’re gonna be the death of me Barnes!"

Taglist: @booktease21 @founding-fuck-bois @whynot3027 @xpunishedx @siren-queen03

@we-are-all-wild-things

[astarisms]

lacuna

pairing: natan word count: 8154 summary: for better, for worse. in sickness, in health. she had taken those vows, even if he didn’t remember it, and she would not break them. all human amnesia au.  notes: this is a project that’s been three years in the making. it will be in three parts (that will come later), but i thought natan week was the perfect opportunity to finally post it. i finished this part in 2016 and haven’t edited it, so it will also follow how my writing has changed since i started this project. i hope you all enjoy, and happy @natanweek! :)

saudade

(n.) a nostalgic longing to be near 

again to something or someone that 

is distant, or that has been loved and 

then lost; “the love that remains”

origin: portuguese

The steady tone of the heart monitor was what had eventually coaxed her to sleep every night for three days. It was the comfort, the constant reassurance that he was here and he was alive and that the fear that had nearly brought her to her knees when she’d gotten the call was unfounded. 

It was only fitting that it would be the heart monitor that woke her as well — but there was something wrong. Before opening her eyes, she just listened for it, the confirmation of his life, but the timing was off. It was faster than the tone that had been ingrained in her mind, consumed every sleeping and waking moment.

She shot up, immediately alert and prepared for the worst, her eyes darting to the hospital bed that took up the middle of the room where he’d been, unmoving, since he’d come out of surgery. Except now there was a twitch to his fingers, a turn to his head, a murmur on his lips. 

She realized then that the change in the heart monitor wasn’t a bad thing, but a good one. Her eyes burned but she pushed back the urge to cry, making her way out of the room as quickly as she could without tripping over all the machines and yelling for a nurse, her voice breaking tearfully. 

Within moments the small room was filled, nurses rushing in and talking to each other in terms Natalie couldn’t understand. His doctor was next, side by side with another nurse mumbling something about paging the surgeon. 

Unable to breathe with so many people in such a small space, and unable to see him anyways with the crowd that had gathered around him, Natalie stepped out into the hall and leaned against the wall beside the door. 

She sighed shakily, looking down at her hands without really seeing them, her vision blurring. She twisted her wedding band around her finger anxiously, trying to ease the thundering of her heart and the racing of her thoughts. 

Was he okay? How did he feel? Was it too soon? Could they go home and finally put this nightmare behind them?

The questions were endless, circling round and round, taunting her as much as the noise in the room behind her was, reminding her that they were there to see him wake up and she was out in the hall. 

Hearing a low groan beneath several overpowering voices, Natalie squeezed her eyes shut and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, taking several deep breaths to keep the relieved tears at bay. 

Flashes of that night, curled on the couch to wait up for him, watching some cheesy TV movie, cold pizza waiting for him on the counter. Her phone ringing and absentmindedly reaching over to answer it without glancing at the caller ID. Ipos’s voice, usually so chill and smiling, solemn in her ear, straining like it would break. Horror settling in her bones like ice, immobilizing her. Ipos’s voice vague and distant in her ear, something about having sent Zoe to pick her up and take her to the hospital already. 

It had undoubtedly been the worst night of her entire life. They had already taken him in for emergency surgery when Zoe had dropped her off, and the wait had been agonizing. Hours without any updates. Hours of replaying every moment with him. Hours of being stricken with the thought that their goodbyes that morning had been goodbye in the most literal sense. 

The relief when they’d told her he was stable was palpable, but there was a catch — he was unconscious, and they had little to no idea when he would wake up.

Three days had felt like an eternity, but now she was grateful that that was all the time it had taken for him to regain his consciousness. She couldn’t imagine if she had had to wait much longer — three days had made her restless enough.

She lowered her hands from her eyes, turning to peer inside the room when she heard his voice, rough with pain and misuse. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, and she could only catch glimpses of him from where she stood, but it was enough. It was a confirmation she couldn’t get from heart monitors, or the gentle rise and fall of his chest.  

He was awake. He was okay. They would go home soon and he would recover the rest of the way there and everything would go back to normal.

She stared down at the floor, trying to catch bits of the conversation, but the doctor’s voice was too low. She didn’t know what the verdict was yet, she didn’t know how close he was to recovering, but he was awake, and that had to be good news.

After all, waking up had been the last obstacle they’d had to face. His recovery, slow as it may be, they would conquer together at home.

After several minutes, people started to file out of the room one by one. Natalie moved to the side as much as she could while still peering into the room, more and more of him revealed to her as the room cleared.

The doctor remained by his bedside even as the last nurse finished adjusting his IV and left. Natalie, feeling lighter than she had in days and with a bounce in her step, walked back into the room and to the doctor’s side. 

He looked from the doctor to her, all sharp lines and tired brown eyes, and she couldn’t help her watery laugh.

“You scared the crap out of me, dude,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching out to take his hand.

“Uh, Mrs. Dev-”

“Who the hell are you-” 

“Mr. Devante, please, a moment-”

“Did you just say missus?”

Natalie was a bit stunned by the swiftness of everything — Lucifer pulling his hand away from her as if he’d been burned, sending her a suspicious look. The overlapping voices, their exact words taking a second for her to process. She could only stare with wide eyes, unsure what was happening.

“I — What?”

“Mrs. Devante, I had meant to speak with you before you came in, because I felt this might be the case as soon as we spoke.”

Her chest constricted with the implications of his solemn tone. 

“W… What might be the case?” she asked, hesitantly, afraid of the question itself just as much as the answer.

“I’m afraid I think your hus— Mr. Devante has a case of amnesia.” He looked between the two of them, to ensure Lucifer didn’t feel like he was being talked about instead of talked to. 

He kept talking, something about how it was not a surprising turn of events after brain surgery, something about not being able to tell if or when his memories would return, something about hope and therapy but Natalie heard none of it, her world closing in on her.

Suddenly she found it hard to breathe. Her vision swam and her ears rang and she barely heard her own voice cut off the doctor.

“He doesn’t…” She turned to look at her husband of 5 years. Her best friend of even longer. So many years… “You don’t remember me?” 

He shook his head.

... gone. 

It felt like a slap in the face.

“...Are you sure?” It was a stupid question, she knew it even as it slipped past her trembling lips, she knew it even without the look on his face that told her he thought it was a stupid question. And though it was silly, though it was a little breathless and desperate, in that moment it was all she had. 

“I’m sure.”

“...Oh.”

“Mrs. Devante-”

“Why do you keep calling her that?” Lucifer snapped, glowering between the two of them. The doctor looked alarmed for a second, before looking to Natalie inquiringly. 

“I...I’m your wife. Natalie. Your wi-”

“Bullshit.” Natalie flinched, and floundered, unable to think of a reply in the wake of his harsh tone. He looked to the doctor. “Could you stop calling her that?”

“Um-” The greying man glanced at Natalie again, cautiously.

“...My, uh… Natalie is fine,” she said softly, eyes dropping from Lucifer’s irritated expression to the stark white sheets. 

“Ah, well, yes. Perhaps it’s better if we let Mr. Devante get his rest? After all, proper rest is key to a speedy recovery.”

“Haven’t I been resting enough?” Lucifer scoffed, but settled back into the pillows anyways.

“A coma is not the same as resting. We’ll get you some food soon, to see what you’re able to keep down as well.”

Lucifer grunted, but otherwise didn’t reply. 

The doctor touched Natalie’s arm, and she scrambled off the bed. 

“Right. Um, I hope you uh, rest… well,” she said, stumbling over her words and avoiding his eyes, unable to keep the disbelief from her voice but doing her best to mask the hurt regardless.

She turned and ducked out of the room as quickly as she could, the doctor on her heels. He shut the door softly behind them and turned to look at her. 

“Is — is it permanent?” she asked, quietly even though Lucifer was well out of earshot now. She looked up at him with big, hopeful green eyes, and he really wished he could give her a different answer. 

“There’s no way of telling,” he said slowly. “It could be permanent,” Natalie took a shuddering breath, and he hurried to continue, “but there’s also a chance he could regain them, quickly or over time. It’s a matter of circumstance. Every situation is different.”

She nodded slowly, glancing at the door and wrapping her arms around herself. He had been in this field for too long, and was good at recognizing the signs of her resolving herself now to face what laid ahead.

“Yeah. Okay.” 

“I’m sorry there’s nothing more we can do,” he added sincerely. Natalie gave him a bright smile, but he’d seen a lot of those too — it broke his heart to note that hers was one of the most authentic, if a little strained, like she hadn’t had to use her perfected grin in some time.

“You’ve done so much already. Thank you. Him being okay is the most important thing.” 

He nodded, his years of experience betraying him when he was unable to find a way to comfort her. 

“My pleasure, Mrs. Dev—”

“Please,” she said, a shaky exhale. “Just — could you call me Natalie?” 

“Of course.” Her smile this time looked a little more genuine. “I’ll leave you to it, Natalie.”

She nodded, and he left her alone in the hallway. She sighed and pursed her lips, trying to decide what she should do next.

Calling Ipos was the first thing that came to mind — he and Sheila would be happy to hear that Lucifer was awake. She reached down to grab her phone before she remembered it was in his room, charging beside the cot she’d made a home out of during her stay since she’d refused to leave his side since she’d arrived. 

She bit the inside of her cheek, glancing to the door and debating whether or not it was worth it, before deciding she was being silly. She braced herself, and cracked the door open, peering inside. 

He looked like he was asleep. 

Creeping inside, she tried to be as quiet as possible. She made it halfway across the room before he grunted, and she froze, turning slowly to look at him. He was staring at her with none of the warmth of the brown eyes she had fallen in love with a hundred times over, brows drawn.

“I — s-sorry, I was just grabbing my…” she trailed off, gesturing instead. He rolled his head to look at the small pile of her stuff, his gaze narrowing. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

He sighed, and closed his eyes again.

“Just get it.” 

She made herself quick about grabbing it, and turned to walk out, but thought twice and spun back around to grab her jacket off the top of her bag. She tugged it on as she manuevered carefully around the small room and all its machines and wires, and she tried very hard to keep her nose in the screen and not glance back at him, but her body betrayed her.

She chanced a look at him, and seeing him lying there peacefully, she was overcome with emotion. It didn’t matter that he no longer had his lush, dark hair. It didn’t matter that a scar stretched across his scalp. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t the same man she married. It didn’t matter that he didn’t remember her.

She was overwhelmed with emotion, with the relief that he was alive, that he was breathing, that his eyes were closed of his own will and not the result of his head injury and the surgery that followed to save his life. 

Her knees nearly gave out beneath her, and she threw caution to the wind as she rushed the last few steps from the room. She shut the door as softly as she could with trembling fingers, not noticing that he was staring at her.

Once out in the hallway, she was at a loss — bathroom, she needed the bathroom, but she had been using the one in his room and she didn’t know where the public one was. Her vision blurred and her head swam and she stumbled down a random hallway in search for it.

After she’d turned down the third hallway with no results, she leaned against the wall, breath shuddering. She slid down until she touched the floor, buried her face in her pulled-up knees, and let the dam break.

She sobbed, everything she’d been repressing for the past three days bursting forth. She felt everything she hadn’t let herself all at once — the frantic worry, the crippling fear, the indescribable pain, and most prominently the overpowering relief. She felt it all pulse through her with so much force it hurt. 

She hadn’t been able to think as optimistically as she’d pretended. Several what if’s taunted her every waking moment and visions of life without him made her dreams bleed with terror and grief. 

The vision of him, pale and breathing shallowly, blood matting his hair to the back of his head and curling down the sides of his face and staining the pillow crimson and his body limp and broken and vulnerable in a way she had never seen him — was one created entirely of her own imagination. She hadn’t actually seen him after that accident, he’d already been taken back for surgery by the time she’d reached the hospital, but the image her own mind conjured had haunted her every moment since.

But none of that mattered anymore. None of it. Because he was okay, she couldn’t reassure herself enough that he was fine, that besides a few lost memories the doctor had said he would likely make a full recovery. And that — that was enough for her. It had to be.

As her sobs died down, she heaved on the floor of the deserted hallway, shaking and exhausted. She was no stranger to bottling her emotions, but it had been a long time since she’d had to keep some that roiled so violently within her under lock and key.

She jumped when she heard the rustling of someone sitting beside her, and looked up into a pair of warm, familiar eyes. Ipos didn’t say anything, he just offered his silent presence. Feeling better with the company, she sniffled and wiped her face on the sleeve of her jacket. 

They were silent for a minute, the only sounds in the barren hallway Natalie’s shuddered breathing and sniffles as she attempted to compose herself again.

“H-How did you find me?” she finally asked. Ipos shrugged, leaning back against the wall. 

“A few nurses pointed me in the right direction.”

“I — Is Sheila…?”

“She’s in his room. Told her I’d bring you by as soon as I found you.”

“Liar.” Ipos glanced over at her, a smirk turning up his lips. 

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Natalie giggled, sitting up straighter, “We should go back, before I make a dishonest man out of you.”

Ipos laughed quietly, but it faded out when Natalie stood up.

“You sure?” 

He wasn’t a man of many words, but Natalie knew what he meant — was she ready? To face him again? To endure his lost memory? To handle the loss of his love?

“Yeah,” Natalie said, sobering up. 

Ipos only nodded, and stood to walk her back.

***

Natalie would be lying if she claimed the last few days hadn’t taken their toll on her. She was exhausted and trying to stay optimistic just wore her down more.

Attempting to keep smiling when he would barely so much as look at her, trying to laugh when he recounted old stories with Sheila and Ipos that she’d heard a million times over, keeping the tears at bay every waking moment — she was just about ready to collapse. 

Ever since he’d woken up, she’d spent her nights at home. He didn’t like the idea of her being there when he didn’t know her. She understood, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t felt like a slap in the face.

That didn’t mean trying to sleep in their bed alone didn’t feel cold and empty.

She’d taken to sleeping on the couch instead, and she busied herself during the day trying to prepare for his homecoming. Keeping herself distracted from her own thoughts had become a struggle, so she put all her leftover energy into cleaning, blasting music and singing along just as loudly to drown out the negativity that tried to pull her under.

But he was coming home today, and she would be optimistic if it killed her. He was going through enough, and she was going to make his transition back into his life as easy as possible.

She made sure everything was where it belonged and dabbed concealer over the dark circles beneath her eyes before she set off to the hospital to pick him up, equal parts excited and nervous. She was hoping a familiar environment would trigger some of his old memories, but she was also trying not to get her hopes up.

The doctor had warned her there was a chance he would never regain them, anyways. So Natalie was resolutely devoted to keeping this whole ordeal about him — he was the one who was injured, he was the one whose life had been thrown completely off-kilter, he was the one who needed the help.

Her own problems could wait, because him recovering was the big picture and she wouldn’t lose sight of that. She would nudge him in the right direction, but she wouldn’t pressure him to remember. Not when he had bigger things to worry about.

Her stout optimism was tested the moment she stopped outside his door, though. She heard him, inside, arguing.

“Why can’t I crash at your place?” A beat of silence accompanied by the sinking of Natalie’s heart. Of course, she should have known he wouldn’t want to come home with her — after all, to him, she was a complete stranger.

“C’mon, Ipos, this— no, listen, I’ll sleep on that shit-stained couch, I — wait, what? You moved? You big fuck, when did that happen?”

She figured she’d been eavesdropping long enough, and knocked lightly on the door before pushing it open and poking her head inside.

“Hey,” she said, gently, not wanting to risk his temper. He tensed, and Natalie tried not to let her smile waver. “I brought you a change of clothes, for whenever you’re ready…” 

“Yeah, okay,” he said gruffly, and jerked his chin towards the end of the bed. “You can just set them there.” She walked over, setting the bag where he’d indicated and soothing it out.

“Just… whenever you’re ready,” she repeated, sincerely, trying to catch his eyes. He refused to look at her, however. She bit back her disheartened sigh, and stepped back. “Just let me know, okay? I’ll be outside.”

He nodded once, and she clasped her hands in front of her tightly to keep them from shaking as she retreated once more, with the sinking feeling that retreating from him — her best friend, her confidant — was going to be the norm very soon. 

She stopped once the door closed behind her again and after a moment of hesitation, she pressed her ear against it as he resumed his conversation with Ipos.

“I don’t know…” she heard him say, and there was an uncertainty in his voice that she hadn’t expected given the demanding and abrasive tone he’d had before she interrupted. “I don’t know her.”

Her breath shook as she exhaled, and she turned her face to the ceiling to blink back the tears. There was a long silence on his end, and she almost turned away when he spoke again, a bit of the edge from before back.

“I don’t know if I can remember her. I don’t know if I can love her.”

Her hand flew to her mouth to muffle the pained gasp she wasn’t sure he could hear anyways but didn’t want to risk, and she spun around and fled before he could catch her, before she could hear anything else she didn’t want to.

That was her karma for eavesdropping, she supposed, as she felt her already fragile heart shatter into pieces.

This time, her search for the bathroom didn’t result in an abandoned hallway, but instead found her bowed over the sink, the heels of her hands pressed into her eyes, her head throbbing as she resisted the overwhelming desire to cry.

She needed to get it together. She couldn’t react like this every time he said something that stung — it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t remember. She had to remind herself that he wasn’t being malicious, but that he was understandably very confused and disoriented and that she would be put off, too, if she woke up with no memory of a person claiming to be married to her.

She took several steadying breaths to compose herself, then slowly peeled her hands from her face. Her eyes were a little red, so she grabbed a paper towel and dampened it with cool water. She dabbed it gently beneath her eyes in hopes of making the swelling go down a little.

Once she decided she was presentable enough to brave the waiting room again, she slipped from the bathroom and traveled the short distance to the lobby where she could wait on him to get changed and sign the release forms. 

He, thankfully, didn’t keep her waiting as long as she had expected him to. He emerged from his room within half an hour, and though he didn’t seem thrilled at the idea of coming home with her, he didn’t say anything against it, either as he signed his discharge forms, dropping his bag by his feet.

His doctor was giving him some final instructions about bed rest and not over-exerting himself — “that means you’re gonna be out of commission for awhile, Lucifer, and I’ve already talked to your chief about how long you need to stay out,” he’d said, to which Lucifer scowled but nodded.

Natalie was lingering, not close enough to make Lucifer anymore uncomfortable but enough to overhear. The graying man caught her eyes a few times and she nodded subtly in response, because they both knew Lucifer was too reckless and restless to follow the strict orders unless he was watched.

“We’ll have your follow up in about a month, alright? It should be pretty routine, but if you notice anything unusual please come in immediately regardless.” Lucifer nodded absently, it was clear he wasn’t listening anymore, itching to not be cooped up anymore.

Natalie’s apologetic smile was tired and strained but she waited silently while the doctor looked over the forms Lucifer handed him back to confirm his release.

“Looks like you’re good to go,” he said, glancing at the last page. “Though I’d prefer if you used a wheelchair. You just had surgery.” He sighed at the look he was given, and conceded. “Just remember all I told you, alright?”

“Yeah, sure.” The doctor shared a look with Natalie and she lifted her shoulders in a delicate shrug. Even without the amnesia, Lucifer had always been impartial to hospitals, especially for long periods of time.

“All packed up?” she asked after the older man wished them a safe trip home and took his leave, a hesitant tease since all he really had was the clothes on his back and a few of his favorite books she’d brought for him. 

He hummed in acknowledgment and scooped up his bag. Natalie pursed her lips, but didn’t push his lack of a reply. Instead, she folded her arms over her stomach and followed him as he made his way to the elevator. 

The ride down was silent. Natalie had several things she wanted to say, but she didn’t know how to bring them up and she wasn’t prepared for more of his rejection just yet. So she kept quiet and when the elevators opened on the ground floor he strolled out ahead of her, then stopped.

His brows were furrowed, clearly frustrated as he looked down at her. She didn’t know what she could’ve possibly done wrong this time, all she’d done was walk beside him, until —

“Well?”

“Well… what?”

“Where’s the car?” he asked, an exasperated edge to his voice. 

“O-Oh, right, I’ll go pull it around—”

“That’s not necessary. That’ll just take more time.”

“You shouldn’t walk too far, though, the doctor said—”

“I had surgery, I’m not crippled. I can walk to the fucking car,” he snapped, and Natalie flinched. He looked away from her, and his tensed shoulders slumped a little in what she recognized as regret for losing his temper, but he didn’t offer an apology. 

“...Right,” she said after a beat, and hated how her voice wavered. “Sorry, I’ll — it’s this way.”

She took the lead and was glad for it, because if he was behind her he couldn’t see the way her expression crumbled as her smile became too exhausting to fake anymore. The parking garage wasn’t far, but it was a pain to navigate and she tried in earnest to get him to the car as quickly as possible without the short trip being too much for him.

When it came into sight, she fished her keys out and unlocked the doors, moving to get in. She paused briefly when she noticed his uncertain expression and the slight sheen on his forehead, and she wished she’d just made him stay put in the lobby so she could have brought the car to him instead.

She didn’t have time to linger on it, however. He tugged the door open and slid in, careful not to hit his head, and she got in and started the car, eager to get them home.

He crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat and Natalie found herself distracted by the possibilities of what would happen once he was home as she put the car in reverse and took the wheel with both hands.

Would he hate it? Would the familiar environment rattle something within him? Would it fail and only serve as a bitter reminder of his lost memories? 

She couldn’t say. She didn’t know what to expect, and while she was usually fond of surprises, this one worried her. 

She shifted in the driver’s seat uncomfortably, her fingers tapping a nervous beat against the wheel. She hated driving, and preferred taking the bus or walking or leaving it to him, which was ironic considering the first time they’d met he had pulled her over for speeding.

Her accident about a year after they’d been dating had really put things in perspective for her, however, and even though she had walked away from it physically sound, she had been shaken.

The drive home lasted for what felt like forever, but when she finally pulled into the driveway she kept her eyes firmly in front of her until she'd parked. Her fingers tightened around the wheel, before she released it and chanced a look at him.

He was staring up at their house with the same familiarity he had greeted her with — or rather, lack thereof. 

“This is it,” she said, trying for enthusiastic but not wanting to come off overbearingly so, and wiped her hands on her jeans. She tried not to linger too long on his unimpressed expression. 

It wasn’t his fault he didn’t remember them picking this out together because it was in their budget even though it had almost nothing they’d wanted. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t remember many of their days off spent together making this house their home. It wasn’t his fault that the walls he’d so looked forward to coming into at the end of a long day were now unrecognizable to him. It wasn’t his fault and she had to keep reminding herself of that.

He made the first move to get out of the car, finally tearing his eyes away, and she scrambled out after him. She wanted to get his bag for him, but he grabbed it before she could get to it and turned away without a second glance.

She bit her tongue and followed him up the short distance to their front door, fumbling with the keys while he stood off to the side, annoyed and impatient. Once she got it open, a feat with her sweaty, nervous fingers, she gestured for him to go in first. He gave her a look but obliged and she followed after him, shutting the door softly behind them.

He stood just inside, looking around at the odd decoration and the abundance of potted plants, not sure what to make of it all. Natalie decided to give him a moment, not wanting to rush him. 

She noticed his gaze fall to a small table that she’d decorated with photos of them and their friends. She couldn’t help the rush of hope she felt, especially the longer he stared at them — pictures of them when they were dating, one a friend had snapped when they had told everyone they were engaged, one of their wedding. Surely, surely they had to trigger something? 

She didn’t dare breathe, digging her nails into her palms as her chest swelled when he reached for them…

...and she felt herself deflate, the air rushing out of her like a balloon and taking the hope she’d let consume her for that brief moment with it when he grabbed their wedding picture and turned it down, until it rested facedown on the table where he wouldn’t have to look at it.

Natalie’s heart twisted painfully, and her smile became more difficult to uphold. She stepped in front of him, quickly so he wouldn’t see her expression crumble. It was all she could do to keep her voice even.

“Come on, I’ll show you around,” she offered, walking deeper into their home.

“Can you just show me where I’m staying?” he said gruffly. “I don’t really feel like getting the whole grand tour right now.” 

She froze midstep. She swallowed hard, but nodded, and turned for the bedrooms.

“Yeah, of course. It’s… it’s this way.”

The heavy thud of his footsteps behind her matched the painful beat of her heart in her chest as she guided him to the end of the short hallway. 

She opened the door at the end to the master bedroom and moved to the side so he could step in.

“This is our—” she didn’t miss the wrinkle of his nose at her choice of words, and she looked away, “—bedroom. I… You can stay, or, you can have it. I mean, it’s already yours, but I can — I’ll stay in the guest room.”

She felt him staring, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes this time.

“The, uh, the bathroom is just through that door,” she said, gesturing lamely. And I’ll be staying in, um… in the guest bedroom. If you need anything.” She tilted her head back down the hall. “It’s the second on the left.”

He nodded in her peripheral, and she turned to leave, fingers curling around the knob.

“I’ll let you get settled in, then.” 

The door clicked softly on her way out, and she crossed the short distance to her new bedroom. With one last look towards their room, she slipped inside and leaned heavily against the door. Her knees buckled and she allowed herself to slide down, until she hit the ground.

Her breath shuddered and she pulled her legs up, until she could rest her face in her knees. Exhausted, she squeezed her eyes shut and pushed past the pounding in her head, refusing the urge to cry.

They would get past this. They had always gotten past everything, together. This obstacle was inarguably their biggest one yet, but they would figure it out. She had to believe they would. She couldn’t give up so easily. 

Their wedding picture, turned down, flashed in her mind and a tear slipped unbidden down her cheek. That had been the first thing she’d decorated with. That had been a constant since they had moved in. She had put it by the door in case of an argument where one of them would leave angry — when they came back in, that picture served to remind them to leave their anger and work to fix things instead. 

She sucked in a breath and raised her head, swiping angrily at her face and glaring at the moisture that came away on her fingers. 

Things were different now. He was different now. Years of the experiences that had changed and shaped him were gone, but the man she had fallen in love with was still in there. She just had to remind him of the woman he had fallen in love with.

She couldn’t rush him, though. She knew that much. She couldn’t imagine how strange this all must have been for him, and she wanted to make the transition as easy as possible.

It would take time, but they had all the time in the world. 

But first, baby steps.

***

“What are you doing?” 

Natalie jumped, turning away from the stove to face him and laying a hand over her heart. She opened her mouth, ready to crack a joke about how he still managed to sneak up on her after all these years, but she caught herself and thought better of it.

“Making breakfast,” she answered instead. They’d had takeout for lunch and dinner, she thought it would be nice for him to have something homemade instead. “Chocolate chip pancakes, your favorite!” 

She could tell by the look on his face that he was skeptical about them being his ‘favorite’, but they promised chocolate and if there was one thing that would never change about her husband it was his unwavering love of chocolate. 

She turned back to the stove, a smile tugging at her lips. At least she could get something right. 

She slid the last one onto a plate and dropped a small square of butter on top of the stack, then carried it and the syrup over to him. 

He looked down at the plate, less than impressed by the ugly pancakes with jagged edges and the burnt splotches. 

“Bon appetit!” she said cheerfully, and Lucifer looked up at her, then back down to the pathetic pile of vaguely circular and questionably edible pancakes before him. 

“...Thanks,” he muttered, and grabbed the syrup, deciding that if he drowned them in it then they couldn’t possibly be as bad as they looked. 

He cut into the stack and lifted the bite to his mouth. He choked around the taste, and for a moment, he tried to get it down, he really did. He gave up on that effort, though, instead grabbing a napkin and spitting it out, wiping his mouth. 

“That bad, huh?” Natalie asked, and he looked up at her. She didn’t look surprised or upset, just disappointed and a little sheepish. “Sorry. I’m not a great cook. It’s funny, you used to—” she stopped herself by taking his plate once she realized what she had done. 

It was too late, though, and he stood up with an unreadable expression. Natalie frowned, and moved to apologize, but he cut her off. 

“Don’t forget to turn the stove off,” he said, and disappeared back down the hallway towards their — his — room. She stood staring after him, and set his plate back on the table. 

“Way to go,” she murmured to herself, leaning against a chair, her knuckles going white around the back of it. Every time she thought she was making progress she slipped up and ruined it. 

Chewing on her lip, she spun around and flicked the stove off, hating the reminder he’d given her that he’d given her so often before, each time more teasing than the last. 

Turn the stove off, Natalie. 

I have nightmares about you leaving that thing on.

The guys over at the fire station will never let me live it down if they find out my wife set a fire.

She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, laughing to herself. He had hated her cooking and he always told her he refused to eat anything she made, though she knew he would do anything if she asked, he just had to put up the right show of resistance first. He had always gone out to check that the stove was off before coming to bed with her, and she had always rolled her eyes and teased him about it.

I didn’t even use the stove today, Lucifer.

You attract so much bad luck it wouldn’t surprise me if it turned on just because you looked at it.

You’re such a jerk.

She grabbed his plate again and dumped the contents in the trash, along with the extras she’d made for herself. She wasn’t hungry anymore. She rinsed the dishes off and dropped them in the dishwasher and then cleaned up the mess she’d made. 

It didn’t take long, even as she tried to devote more time and attention to it than necessary just to keep her hands busy, to do something because she felt so useless. She had taken the week off for work, to help him get settled again, but she wasn’t so sure if she’d need the whole week if he didn’t even want to talk to her. She dried her hands and cast the towel onto the counter, sighing.

She turned to look around the small space for something to do, and her eyes fell on the photo of them pinned to the fridge. She walked over, slipping her fingers beneath it to get a better look, thumbing the edges tenderly. She’d surprised him that day at work. She’d snuck up on him, kissed his cheek, and snapped a picture to catch his reaction. 

Her teeth worried her lip for a moment while she hesitated, and then she yanked it off. She went in search of a box, and once she found one a decent enough size, she dropped the photo in there. Then, she made her way to the living room, where she swiped all the photos of them into it. She made her way through every room except their bedroom, taking all evidence of their memories together down to shut them away.

She would show him later, she would revisit them with him, she promised herself. But she would take them down for now. She wouldn’t make him look at them every day.

She wouldn’t make him regret coming home.

The box and all their pictures found a new home beneath her bed. All except their wedding picture. She set that one up carefully on the nightstand, so at least she could look at it. She dusted her hands off, but once she stepped out of the room she immediately felt like she wasn’t even in her own home anymore. 

It felt empty, impersonal, cold without their lives playing out over the walls. She looked over her shoulder, at his shut door, then at the clock. It was almost time for him to take his medicine, and she knew he needed to eat in order to do that.

Maybe she could make up for breakfast.

She started for the bedroom, going to tell him she was leaving, but her fingers hovered over the knob. She blinked at it, then looked up when she heard his voice coming from inside.

“—tried to kill me with those fucking pancakes, I swear,” she heard, and she covered her mouth with her hand, torn between the urge to laugh and the urge to cry. “It’s not funny, Ipos, I—”

His voice faded and she decided that was enough eavesdropping, backing away from the door. She’d leave a note instead for him to find, if he even noticed she was gone. She’d be back in less than ten minutes anyways, if traffic wasn’t horrible. 

She found an old bill and scribbled “Be right back” on the back of the envelope, leaving it on the table just inside the door. She snatched the keys up and slipped outside.

Traffic wasn’t bad, just as she’d hoped, and she was at the small bakery in no time. The bell jingled welcomingly when she walked through the door, immediately consumed in the warmth and pleasant smells.

Rosenfeld Bakery. It was his favorite place. The interior was a play on the name, decorated with roses Natalie’s shop supplied now and small, old frames of rose fields. They’d found it years ago and nothing else they tried ever compared to the little shop, tucked into a corner. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Devante!” the owner, Anthea, greeted from behind the counter. 

“Good morning,” she smiled, relieved at the friendly face, and walked over.

“The usual? Where’s Lucifer?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” she said, and dropped her eyes to the display. “He’s, ahh… He’s at home. Could you add one of those eclairs, too?” 

“An eclair? You making up for something?” Anthea teased. It was rare she saw one without the other. Natalie laughed, but it sounded breathless, forced.

“Something like that.” 

Anthea frowned, setting the bag on the counter between them. Natalie fished out a bill and pushed it across, pulling the bag more towards her instead.

“Is everything alright?”

It took Natalie a long moment to answer as Anthea rung her up, waiting for her answer with a concerned crease in her brows. Was everything alright? Not really.

But…

“It will be,” she finally said, raising her eyes to meet Anthea’s. She smiled at her and gathered up the bag of Lucifer’s favorite breakfast, turning to leave. “Keep the change!” she called over her shoulder, and walked out before Anthea could even get a word in.

Her return home was even quicker. She was excited, because her cooking was a longshot, she’d known that from the beginning, but she was sure this was something he could appreciate. 

She hurried inside, the warm bag tucked against her side, and travelled back into the kitchen. She pulled down another plate and arranged the chocolate-cinnamon rolls he ate religiously in one half, and put the double chocolate eclair on the other half. Smiling to herself, she made her way back towards their — his — room.

She knocked lightly on the door, and waited for a few excruciating moments.

“Lucifer?” she finally asked, and there was another beat of silence before she heard shuffling and finally the door opened up.

His eyes dropped down to the plate almost immediately, and then back up to her. She saw the skeptical arch of his brow, even as his eyes kept dropping back to the plate. It looked a lot better than what she’d presented to him earlier, she knew.

“A peace offering,” she offered as an explanation. “I know this is hard for you and I’m probably not making it any easier, but I figured I couldn’t go wrong here. I didn’t make it,” she added quickly when she saw his lip twitch as he undoubtedly remembered the disaster pancakes.

He stared at her for a minute longer, before taking the plate.

“Where did you get it?”

“Rosenfeld’s. It’s a bakery on the corner of 5th.” He was halfway to lifting one of the rolls to his mouth when he paused.

“Never heard of it.”

“We uh… we found it a few years ago,” she said slowly, cautiously, not wanting to upset him. She watched his expression carefully as she added, “It’s a bit of a hole in a wall, but it’s really good.” 

Something in his eyes darkened, and he nodded and set the roll back down. 

“Thanks,” he said, but there was an undefinable edge to his voice and he was unable to meet her eyes now. She felt a piece of her break away, screaming, wondering what she could say if everything about his likes or interests when she knew him was apparently off the table. She was trying to help.

Didn’t he want to remember? 

“...Yeah, of-of course. You, um, you have to take your medicine at 11:30.”

“I know.”

“I just thought I’d remind you, just in case.” She shifted uncomfortably, not sure whether she should try to catch his eyes or avoid them altogether. “I know you need something to eat with it, but if you… if you don’t want that there’s cereal and stuff in the kitchen. You’re more the welcome to help yourself.”

“I don’t need you to fucking babysit me, Natalie,” he said, and even he seemed surprised at how harsh his voice had been, but he didn’t make a move to apologize. Despite herself, it was the first time she’d heard him say her name since he’d woken up, and it sent a shiver down her spine. “I’m a grown man, I know how to take care of myself.” 

The words felt like a slap in the face. She felt her stomach drop. Her fingers curled into white-knuckled fists in an attempt to keep him from seeing her shaking hands. Her heart beat a thunderous beat against her ribcage and the blood rushing through her ears was deafening. 

She looked up at him, and he was looking at her now. There was harsh dip between his brows, his light brown eyes angry, tensed against the doorframe. Her eyes fell on the bandage covering his stitches and her breath shuddered.

“Yeah,” she said, calmer than she felt. She met his eyes again, now that she’d made her point with her gaze. “Sure looks like it.” 

She turned on her heel and marched back to her room. She shut the door with a little more force than necessary, and went to go sit on the bed. She let her fingers uncurl, and pressed them against her thighs in an attempt to quell how violently they shook. 

She stared at the floor for what felt like an eternity, trying to even out her breathing again, trying to get the resonance in her ears to go away, trying to see something other than the angry curl of his lip and the annoyed set of his jaw.

Finally, she raised her head. She was never one to let the day pass without living it to its fullest, but there was nothing more she wanted than to crawl into bed and sleep it away right then. She hesitated, because what if he needed her, but—

He didn’t need her. He’d made that perfectly clear.

She caught the shimmering frame of their wedding picture on the nightstand. She stared at it, her chest tight with the memory and all the implications it held, all the vows it upheld and all the arguments it had resolved.

She reached over, and with every part of her crying out in protest, she pushed it face down.

Then she kicked her shoes off and crawled under the sheets, pulling the covers above her head and trying to ignore how sharply she felt her heart break. 

[artificialqueens]

Overpowered Part 5 (Branjie)- athena2

Really sorry about that cliffhanger! This chapter was SO hard to write, and I actually made myself tear up a few times. I hope it’s not too long! The support and feedback has been absolutely amazing, and I would really appreciate it if you let me know what you think of this one! I really hope you like it! *This does have injury, mentioned blood, mentioned abuse, and mild implied depression*

Vanjie’s “I love you” swirls in Frost’s head as she blasts ice at Quake, Scarlet’s screams ineffective against his earplugs.

“We gotta get those things out of his ears,” Scarlet pants, wiping blood off her mouth. “Then I can finish him.”

Frost nods, her own face sticky with blood. The ground beneath them is torn to shreds, dirt, rocks, and branches scattered among the snow.

“Ow, fuck,” Yvie crackles in her ear comm. “I knocked out Shockwave, but he fucked me up pretty good. Vanjie? Vanj- oh, shit,” Yvie’s last words are hushed, and Frost knows. Something’s wrong.

“Y-Yvie?” Her voice quivers. She ducks behind a tree while Scarlet continues the fight. Her heart is pounding painfully fast, straining her ribs. “Did s–did something happen?”

It’s so quiet she wonders if the comm died. “You need to get over here.”

“Go! I got this!” Scarlet insists, and Frost runs.

The trees fade as she sprints, desperate to reach Vanjie but also not wanting to know what awaits. The clock tower guides her, a crack in the clock face slicing through her vision, and the time…she almost chokes on her heart. Did that mean…no, no, please.

She feels like she’s walking through quicksand as she reaches Yvie, standing next to someone on the ground. A giant hand is squeezing her chest, cutting off air, but Frost isn’t even seeking any.

She can’t look.

No, no, please, no–

“Brooke, I’m so sorry,” Yvie says softly. “I tried CPR, but she…I’m sorry.”

But Yvie doesn’t need to be sorry, because this isn’t happening. Because Vanessa’s not dead. Vanessa’s not dead, and she’s going to open the red silk robe Brooke got her because she loved robes but other fabrics made her too hot. She’s going to open the two presents Brooke’s been nervous about, and her grin will tell Brooke she was jittery for nothing. She’s going to stuff herself with cake and say it was worth it despite her stomachache. Vanessa is going to laugh and smile and look at Brooke with that gleam in her eyes and sneak food to the pets and make a mess while they cook dinner and she’s going to kiss her and curl up with Brooke in bed, because she’s not dead.

Yvie steps back, and she forces herself to look down.

Vanjie–Vanessa–lies on the hard snow, scorch marks on the chest and arm of her red suit, the red like blood against the bright white. Only there isn’t any blood. She isn’t moving, and Vanessa is never still.

Frost drops, and by the time her knees sink into the snow, Frost has shattered and a shell of Brooke is all that remains.

“Vanessa?” Her voice cracks like thin ice.

She doesn’t answer.

“Ness?”

Silence.

“Please,” Brooke whimpers.

Tears stream down her cheeks as a chill ravages her, heart plummeting below zero.

She should have done more. She shouldn’t have left Vanessa, should have wiped the blood off her face as soon as the rock struck her, shouldn’t have let herself believe they could simply avoid this.

Shouldn’t have let herself believe she could have such happiness without it being ripped away from her.

Vanessa’s eyes are closed, and Brooke gently peels away her mask. It reminds her of when Vanessa removed it for the first time, when Brooke looked into those eyes and was ready to tell her everything, to give Vanessa her entire heart, when Vanessa’s arms taught her what safety meant, and now her body convulses with sobs, world blurred by tears, as she selfishly realizes that those arms will never hold her again.

That her very definition of safety is being erased.

She pulls Vanessa into her arms, registering somewhere in her mind that this is the final piece of Yvie’s vision. She looks at Vanessa, usually full of color and sound and life, now dull and silent and–she can’t say it.

I love you. I love you more than anything. I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you. She can’t speak but her tears carry the message as they drip onto Vanessa’s face. She wipes them off her as even more fall. Somehow Vanessa’s cheeks are still warm, their heat beneath Brooke’s fingertips the only sign she can still feel at all.

Warm?

Brooke’s heart speeds up, and she forces down the hope longing to thaw her frozen heart. She’s probably just imagining it. She doesn’t know science but she’s pretty sure Vanessa should not be warm. She’s not breathing, and Brooke can’t feel a pulse. But Vanessa is warm. She lowers her ear to Vanessa’s chest. Is it her imagination, or does she hear electricity humming in her body?

An idea pops into her head. It probably won’t work. It probably shouldn’t work; it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense, but the truth is nothing in her life has made sense since she woke up in that damn bed with a dozen tubes in her arm, and the only person that has ever brought clarity isn’t breathing, and Brooke will try anything.

She eases Vanessa onto the snow and places both hands over her heart. She does the chest compressions A’Keria taught her, but she lets ice flow from her hands, watching as it travels through the hole in Vanessa’s suit and over the shiny burn on her chest, seeping into her body.

She’s never used her powers like this and she can feel herself weakening, her eyelids getting heavy as she lowers her lips to Vanessa’s and pushes air into her body, as she wills the ice to soothe the charred areas of Vanessa’s heart, to let her scorched arteries pulse anew, but she keeps going.

She keeps going until she feels a faint thrum under her hands.

She keeps going until Vanessa’s gasping breath soars through the winter air, and it’s the sweetest sound she’s ever heard.

Vanessa coughs harshly and falls unconscious, but she continues to breathe. Her heart continues to beat.

She’s alive.

Brooke cradles Vanessa just to feel her heartbeat against her own chest. She lets herself be selfish again and soak in the fact that she won’t be left without Vanessa. That she won’t have to sleep in an empty bed, or make pancakes for one instead of two, or get a shot at the doctor’s without her warm hand to hold, or watch a movie without her cackling loudly.

Because of all the things Brooke has come to know, how to live without Vanessa is not one of them. —

She’s not sure how they end up at the base, her eyes seeing nothing but Vanessa’s chest as it rises and falls, her ears hearing nothing but Vanessa’s breaths.

The night passes in snapshots as Brooke’s chest tightens with worries about how frail Vanessa felt: Ra’jah tearing Vanessa out of her arms; Yvie trying to calm her; the snow and ice stuck to Brooke’s suit melting into a puddle at her feet; Brooke’s shivers fading to numbness as she paced the hallway, breath coming in fearful wheezes; Scarlet arriving; and Ra’jah finally bringing her to Vanessa.

Vanessa is pale, almost as pale as the bandages on her arm and chest, but she’s alive. Her breaths are shallow and her heart is slow but she’s alive and Brooke finally unclenches her shoulders.

She looks so tiny in the bed, like a child, and Brooke just wants to hold her. She wishes Vanessa was home in their bed, safe. She forces herself to remember that this isn’t the lab, that the wires and tubes are helping her even if they look scary. She wonders if this is how Vanessa felt when she got shot: completely helpless, unable to do anything but watch as monitors and medicine make sure Vanessa is okay. She wishes she could take Vanessa’s place, let the nest of wires run over her, transfer those burns to her skin so Vanessa didn’t have to feel any pain.

Now that she knows Vanessa’s alright, it’s like every ache and ounce of exhaustion Brooke ignored hits her at once. Her head droops, too heavy to hold up as the room turns in circles. Her heart slows dangerously. Her knees turn to rubber, and Scarlet seats her in a chair by Vanessa’s bed.

“You’re freezing,” Scarlet hisses, shooting a concerned glance at Yvie.

“Always run cold,” she slurs.

Yvie shakes her head. “Your lips are blue. The way you used your powers, and you’re still in that suit…you need a doctor.”

“Look at her hands,” Scarlet whispers.

Brooke sees tiny ice fragments cresting up her skin, her fingertips tinged blue. She realizes that she can’t feel the ice or her fingers–can’t feel anything below her elbows or knees, actually–but she’s too sleepy and her head is too foggy to care.

Even though she’d refused medical attention all night, she doesn’t have the energy to argue when Ra’jah enters, flanked by A’Keria and Silk, and she fights to keep her eyes open as a thermometer is slipped under her tongue.

“Brooke, sweetie, we really need you to stay awake for us,” A’Keria’s voice is miles away.

Ra’jah frowns as she removes the thermometer, and her face morphs into the doctor’s.

A rough wail shreds Brooke’s throat. She wants to scream, tell him not to touch her, but the words are slippery in her mouth and all she manages are shuddering gasps, and she thinks she’s crying again.

Is she going crazy?

A’Keria’s trying to soothe her but her eyes are cold and gray like the General’s and suddenly he’s there, and Brooke doesn’t know where she is anymore, and she wants to push them both away but her arms won’t move, and she gratefully lets sleep take her. —

Faint throbbing in her left hand sinks beneath the surface and tugs her from unconsciousness. She cracks an eye open and glimpses a tube. An IV.

Her breath halts in her throat. She’s in so much trouble; they only gave her an IV when she was really bad. Did she ask for her name again?

The wires stuck to her skin must be telling them her heart rate and temperature and other information she didn’t even know about, all laid bare on display for them to record and review to make sure the drugs worked properly.

How did she get here? Her mind is moving like molasses, she can’t think–they must have given her a lot already. She works her right hand over to the IV. She has to take it out but her fingers are too stiff, too clumsy–

“Hey, Brooke? The IV needs to stay in, it’s okay.” The voice seems worried.

She senses the person getting closer. Did they have a needle? Brooke curls inward on pure instinct, a whimper escaping before she can stop it. No crying or she’ll get punished. She hopes whatever they want from her won’t hurt.

“Um, A’Keria said to tell you you’re safe.” The voice continues.

A’Keria. Brooke’s thoughts lag like an outdated computer. A’Keria wouldn’t be at the lab, would she? But if A’Keria’s here, where’s–

“Vanessa!” Her eyes snap open. She tries to get out of bed but the room tilts and she slumps back against the pillows. Vanessa, find Vanessa. “Wh-where is she?”

“She’s right next to you.”

Brooke’s head whirs around. The rail of her bed brushes another bed containing…Vanessa.

She’s sleeping, face still pale but utterly beautiful, and she looks peaceful, her warmth reaching Brooke through the layers of blankets someone heaped over her, making her almost comfortable in the firm bed. She wonders if it was the same someone that dressed her in the sweatshirt and sweatpants she’s wearing.

Vanessa’s safe. Brooke sighs. It comes rushing back: the church, the fight, her ice on Vanessa’s chest.

Her stomach knots at how quickly her mind followed their rules, how quickly her muscles expected the prick of a needle. The scars might fade but they’ll always be there.

I am more than what they did to me, she reminds herself, something else Nina taught her.

Brooke drags herself closer, slipping her hand through the rail to circle around Vanessa’s, needing to know that she’s really here, trying not to worry about how limp Vanessa’s hand is.

Yvie and Scarlet hover around the bed, both covered in bruises, medical tape, and bandages.

“What happened?” Brooke asks.

Her mind is still a little stuffy and she processes their information in chunks. Yvie knocked out Shockwave and Scarlet took down Quake, Scarlet waiting for backup while Yvie drove Brooke and Vanessa to base. Silk and A’Keria took Quake and Shockwave into custody after dropping Scarlet off, and Silk confirmed they really had them this time.

They were gone. They were really gone. Not one person from the lab can touch her again. Brooke is breathless with relief, struggling to comprehend the sudden safety, sudden freedom, of knowing they wouldn’t hurt her or Vanessa again.

“Then we saw Vanessa and you passed out,” Yvie finishes. “Ra’jah said using your powers that intensely made your temperature drop and gave you hypothermia. She thinks you were delirious, that’s why you got upset.”

That’s why she saw them. She wasn’t going crazy. Brooke relaxes further into the blankets.

“She couldn’t believe you lasted as long as you did with a temperature that low,” Scarlet adds. “She had you in your own room at first even though A’Keria said it was a bad idea. Then your temperature kept falling and your pulse was barely there and Vanessa’s heart rate was slowing, and A’Keria let her have it.”

“A’Keria went off on Ra’jah,” Yvie announces gleefully. “She basically told her if she separated you, she’d regret it more than when she got bangs. Ra’jah had your bed brought in real quick. And A’Keria was right. You warmed up faster next to Vanessa, and her heartbeat got stronger when you were there.”

“That hair was a national tragedy,” A’Keria declares as she slips inside, handing Scarlet and Yvie coffees from a tray and stroking Brooke’s arm.

“You feeling better?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I thought we were gonna lose both of you in one night,” A’Keria says softly, dark circles ringing her eyes.

“Ra’jah said to give you hot drinks when you woke up, so if you’re up for it…” She pulls another cup off the tray, placing it gently in Brooke’s hands.

The scent of rich chocolate hits her nose, loosening her tense muscles.

“Thank you,” Brooke whispers, and she can tell from A’Keria’s eyes that she knows Brooke means it for everything. —

Ra’jah makes her stay in bed for the day, changing the small bandage on the cut on her head, which thankfully didn’t need stitches, and constantly checking her temperature. Even though being stuck here makes her skin itch, it’s bearable with Vanessa.

Her whole body is warm as she watches Vanessa sleep, trying not to think of what could have been, grateful when Yvie, Scarlet, Silk, and A’Keria spend the afternoon with her and take her mind off Vanessa lying lifeless in the snow.

Brooke’s heart leaps when Vanessa’s eyelashes flutter that night. Her brown eyes are dull and confused, but Brooke truly relaxes once she sees them.

Vanessa’s awake.

She’s awake and she’s going to be okay.

“The fuck…B-Brooke?”

“I’m right here. You’re okay.” They’re words Vanessa’s said to her countless times, and it feels good to day them back, to be the one comforting her.

“Brooke, what happened? There was lightning, and then I…I can’t remember. Did I…” Her voice shakes through rushed breathing, eyes wide with fear, and Brooke knows the word she can’t bring herself to say.

Brooke stretches her hand over and Vanessa grips back weakly, breaths calming. Ra’jah and Nina had visited today, and they decided that telling Vanessa the truth was the best thing to do. So Brooke does, explaining that the lightning overpowered her heart but her CPR and ice repaired the damage and restarted it.

Thick tears fall from Vanessa’s eyes as she finishes. Brooke’s not sure if they’re from happiness over being alive, or from thinking about how she almost wasn’t, which Brooke has been pushing out of her own mind.

Brooke longs to do more than rub her thumb over Vanessa’s hand and whisper that it’s okay, but Vanessa is asleep again before she can try to get up and kiss her. —

They get home and collapse into bed.

Vanessa is weak and exhausted, pain meds easing her discomfort, and she lets Brooke tuck her under the covers without a word of protest. Some of her color has returned, making the non-stick bandages covering her burns even more ghostly in comparison.

“Do you need anything?” Brooke asks.

“Just stay with me.”

Brooke slips under the blanket and rubs Vanessa’s back soothingly. She hates seeing Vanessa suffer like this but it’s nice to relieve some of her pain, to take care of her and let her hands caress her lovingly.

“Thank you for saving me.” Vanessa’s voice is thick with sleep.

“You don’t have to thank me. I wanted to. I don’t know what I would do without you. I love you.”

“I love you too. I’m so happy I’m still here to love you.” Vanessa pauses. “I might call Nina,” she says, somewhat randomly, and Brooke wonders if all this is weighing on her more heavily than she thought, if the drowsiness is making her extra vulnerable.

“That’s good. I think she can help you.”

“Yeah.”

Vanessa is asleep seconds later. —

“Do you want to talk about what happened in the church? It’s completely up to you,” Nina offers.

Brooke stares at her lap. She holds the squeeze ball but is too tired to play with it. She hadn’t even wanted to come to therapy today, but Vanessa had asked her to.

Brooke shakes her head. “I just can’t right now. I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright. I think it’ll benefit you to talk about it though, once you feel ready.” Nina pauses, and Brooke glances up to see overwhelmingly kind eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

Brooke nods.

“Have you thought about dancing again?”

She shifts around, clutching the ball tighter, spinning words from her thoughts. “Kind of. I- it’s like I picture myself dancing, but I haven’t thought about actually doing it, if that makes sense?”

Nina nods. “Would you consider it? Because from what you’ve learned and what you remember, it seems like something that was important to you, that was a big part of you.”

“I…I remember feeling happy, and free. I think I loved it. But what if I…never mind, it’s stupid.”

“Your thoughts aren’t stupid, Brooke. What if you what?”

“What if I forgot how? What if I try but I can’t do it?” Sometimes her muscles ache with the longing to twirl and spin and leap, to float like nothing can touch her, like the scars from the lab don’t exist, but part of her is afraid she won’t even be able to balance right, and dancing will be just another piece of her gone forever, another reminder of what she lost.

“That’s not stupid at all. I understand why you’re concerned. But even if you’re not perfect, I think this could help you get more in tune with yourself and your body and relax a little. And it’s possible that your body might remember how to dance once you start moving. But only if you want to. You won’t know unless you try.” —

Vanessa spends days on the couch with Riley nestled into her chest, not even changing her pajamas or showering, refusing any company. Brooke makes chicken soup that Vanessa only eats a few spoonfuls of. And she’s quiet. Almost scarily quiet, and she stares at the TV but Brooke doesn’t think she’s actually watching it.

Brooke tries not to worry. Vanessa has been through a lot. Brooke knows she can get through this, but it might take her a while to feel okay again, to feel like herself again, and Brooke understands. Vanessa is there for all her bad days, and Brooke will be there for Vanessa too, and for every one of her bad days. She makes sure Vanessa drinks enough water and applies her burn cream, but gives her the space she knows she needs.

Vanessa goes to Nina a week later and when she comes back her eyes are a little brighter and her shoulders aren’t so stooped, like a weight was lifted off them. She eats a few more bites than she had all week, and says she made another appointment.

Brooke kisses the top of her head. “I’m proud of you, Ness.” —

Brooke continues to take her medication, and she thinks she feels better. It’s like the buzzing that had always been in her head is fading, and she never knew how loud and distracting it was until it wasn’t there. The colors and noises outside aren’t as sharp, no longer fraying her nerves and assaulting her senses.

They spend the days leading up to Christmas in the kitchen, Vanessa leaving the couch for a bit as Brooke goes through every pot and pan and bowl they own and nudges Vanessa away from doing the dishes because she’s supposed to take it easy, body still sore even though she no longer winces every time she moves.

She looks at the tree twinkling, Vanessa petting the animals. She’s been eating more and is slowly starting to come back to herself. Brooke wipes tears from her eyes.

She can’t believe this life is hers. —

Before they know it, Christmas Eve is here. Vanessa said Christmas Eve was the wild night in her family and Christmas Day was just for relaxing and eating leftovers, and they’re both pulsing with energy.

Brooke finishes the red velvet cake and emerges from the shower to see Vanessa has washed the dishes and made French toast.

“Ness, you didn’t have to do this…” She insists as Vanessa plants her in a chair.

“I wanted to. It’s our first Christmas together and your first one after the lab, and I want it to be special.”

Brooke’s body tingles as Vanessa sits in her lap and kisses her forehead.

She knows it will be special just because Vanessa’s there. —

Yvie brings noisemakers and the crackers that pull apart and get sparkles everywhere because she saw them in a movie once, and Scarlet almost breaks her ankle tripping on one when she tries to dance.

They make enough noise for a hundred people through dinner, and Brooke sees how much they all needed this after the past few weeks. Her lips seem permanently stretched into a smile, a far cry from when her mouth twitching the wrong way could get her slapped.

There were days during her time at the lab when she woke up in her apartment and the loneliness almost crushed her, and she knew deep down that if anything happened to her, no one would even care.

Tonight, she looks around at everyone laughing and smiling, bright eyes shining like Christmas lights, stuffing themselves with food she made, and Brooke feels safe and whole and–loved.

For the first time she can remember, she knows what it’s like to have a family. —

Vanessa loves her robe so much she has to model it up and down the living room, paired with the thigh-high black boots and gold hoop earrings Brooke got her. She howls as she opens a box stuffed with chip bags, Vanessa’s favorites and crazy kinds Brooke found online just to see Vanessa smile over grilled cheese and coffee flavors.

Brooke is warm from head to toe like she’s wrapped in a giant blanket, running her fingers over the soft sweaters Vanessa got her and thinking of all the decorating she can do with her new baking supplies.

The tears start when Vanessa opens the photo album. She told Brooke once that she had given A’Keria her mom’s old family photos for safekeeping. She always wanted to put them in an album but never did, and Brooke enlisted A’Keria’s help to do just that.

Vanessa smoothes her hand over the glossy pictures, breaths short through her wide mouth. She takes Brooke’s hand, and Brooke understands.

Vanessa’s crying only increases as she rips the chili-pepper wrapping paper on the small box Brooke hands her, revealing a tiny snowflake necklace, the first of the two Brooke’s been fidgety over.

Vanessa is quiet as it rests on her palm.

She hates it. What the hell was she thinking, getting her a snowflake necklace?

“Is it okay?” Brooke asks.

“Brooke, I love it. I love it so much. It’s like you’re always with me.” She puts it right on, and it glitters in the light like real snow.

Vanessa passes her a box papered in snowmen, expression hopeful and a little nervous. Everyone stops opening their presents to watch expectantly. She pulls the lid off the box and her heart nearly bursts.

Tucked inside the tissue paper is a pair of soft pink pointe shoes.

Brooke’s mouth falls open as she strokes the silky texture, suddenly hit with the memory of leaping through the air, weightless, with lights on her and music strong in her ears, in shoes just like these. “How-how did you…”

Vanessa grins. “I called Plastique to see if she knew what ones you wore. I had a whole page of notes on sizing and shit, I felt like I was looking at the damn DaVinci code. But I’m 99 percent sure they’re right.”

“They’re perfect.” She kisses Vanessa’s cheek as her legs burn from being on pointe and her ears ring with distant applause, all she can do to thank Vanessa for the freedom and memories she’s given her.

Ribbons and bows and wrapping paper fly around the room like missiles as everyone unwraps the rest of their presents. Yvie screeches over her tarot cards, Scarlet’s excited yell over makeup almost breaks a mirror, A’Keria says she will be taking her spa trip soon to get away from Silk’s nonsense, thank you very much, and Silk fawns over her new tech equipment, a bow that no one’s told her about still stuck in her hair, hushed bets placed over how long before she notices.

“I have one more for you,” Vanessa winks mischievously.

Brooke raises an eyebrow. “So do I.”

“We going in our room for this. Don’t want all you nosy hoes in the way.”

They head down the hall to a chorus of “ooohhhs”, and Brooke tries to ignore the pang in her chest at Vanessa’s weary, restrained movements.

Vanessa closes the door and immediately rambles to herself, a sign of rare nervousness. “Do I have to kneel a certain way? I used to get smacked for going on the wrong leg in church. You know what, screw it.”

Vanessa lowers herself onto both knees. She pulls a tiny box from behind her back and opens it, a ring nestled inside the velvet, glimmering in the light.

Brooke’s jaw drops as her stomach leaps, tears immediately welling up.

“I didn’t rehearse this or anything, but Brooke…what can I even say? You gave me a life I didn’t know I was missing. You make me happier than anything, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you. I love how kind you are and how you always take care of me. I love when you put your head in my lap and let me play with your hair. I love that you love me for me and don’t try to make me change who I am. I love how you always get frosting on your nose when you eat cupcakes. I love falling asleep next to you at night and waking up next to you in the morning, and getting to see you everyday. I love you, Brooke, and…will you marry me?”

Brooke can barely speak, love overflowing from her and filling every inch of the room. “Yes, yes, I’d give you a thousand yeses if I could.”

The love in Vanessa’s eyes is overpowering. Brooke crouches down and lets Vanessa slide the ring on her finger, and it’s a perfect fit, just like their bodies intertwined in bed. She pulls Vanessa in for a kiss, and everything vanishes. Vanessa’s lips are the only oxygen Brooke needs, and the two of them are all that matters.

“You said you had one more?” Vanessa prompts.

“See, the thing is…” And Brooke reaches into her pocket and pulls out a box.

She knows that what’s inside will be more than just a ring to Vanessa, but it’s more to Brooke as well. Even when she was free from the lab, it’s something she never thought she’d have the courage to do. But Vanessa helped her not only escape her chains, but want to shatter them too, and with this ring, she feels she’s destroyed the last link encircling her wrist.

“Brooke,” Vanessa is giggling through her tears as Brooke unveils the ring.

“Um, so I practiced this with Nina, and she’s also an ordained minister and offered to do the wedding, but anyway, here goes.”

She takes a breath, reminding herself that there’s no need for the jumpiness in her stomach. “Vanessa, you…you saved me in more ways than you know. Even when I didn’t know who I was, I knew who you were, and it’s because of you that I am who I am now. I’m not scared to wake up in the middle of the night anymore, because you’re there. You’re so kind, and gentle, and you’re by my side for everything. And I want to be by your side, for the good and the bad and even just the normal stuff. I want to hug and kiss you and make you breakfast and take care of you. I want to be there for you singing in the shower and taking forever to pick a movie and burning your mouth on cookies right out of the oven. I love your laugh and your smile and how strong and funny and brave you are and how you always smell like potato chips. Ness…I look at you, and I know everything’s going to be okay. You’re my best friend. I love you so much. Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” Vanessa squeals between sobs before burying her tear-stained face in Brooke’s chest.

This might be the only Christmas Brooke remembers, but it is undoubtedly the best. —

Everyone acts too natural when they return, Yvie almost falling off the couch in an effort to look casually sprawled across it.

“Well?” Silk demands. “Did you do what we think you did?”

She and Vanessa both display their rings, bursting into laughter.

“Y’all really are useless lesbians,” A’Keria mumbles. “Silk, I want my money, hoe! I told you Brooke was too much of a softie to let Christmas go without a proposal!”

“You two make me want to throw up,” Yvie declares.

“That’s one of the best compliments Yvie has,” Scarlet promises.

Silk leaps off the couch, red bow still hanging tough in her hair. “Enough with the tears, Momma’s got a bingo game to win!” —

They fall into bed later that night, exhausted but lightheaded with bliss, ready for Christmas Day with everyone all over again.

“We’re gonna get married,” Brooke whispers incredulously.

“I know,” Vanessa grins back.

They fall asleep with their ringed hands locked together in a promise of love.

[levi-inthesun]

The Cycle of Life and Death, Chapter 5

Summary: Mia came to Tony Stark with a problem- everything she touches decays and dies, everything. She consents to being put in a cryo-sleep so that Tony can study Mia’s problem and try to find some solution that allows her to exist, well, period.

Now, she’s awake.

A/N: WELP WE’VE MADE IT TO THE END! I would love to know what people think about the series! I might be able to be convinced to write more... but maybe not :)

Pairing- (Eventual) Bucky x Mia (OC)

(gif is not mine)

“Well, it seems you unlocked some of the potency of your powers through your anger last night. While I am excited to see what this means, it is also very dangerous. You need to stay in control. Now,” Tony said walking off to his office, coming back with a potted flower in hand, “This was supposed to be a sort of birthday present, but obviously there wasn’t time for that. Bucky said this grew from the spot of ground you kissed in central park. We decided it would be better if I looked into to make sure it wasn’t dangerous or harmful, that sort of thing. So I did. And it seems that this flower grew from your powers as you began to accept yourself and your past.”

You felt your eyes getting watery as you looked over the flower. “I made that,” you said in awe, taking in the deep blues of the small flower.

Tony nodded, “And now we’ve learned that giving in to your anger only strengthens your powers, who knows if it works for life as well as death.”

Thanks to Loki, Tony was able to upgrade your gloves with a material from Asgard so that you didn’t destroy everything you touched.

“You’ll have to be careful until I can up your clothing as well,” he told you before you left.

“I understand,” you said, closing the door behind him.

As soon as the door was shut, you began running down the stairs to the gym. There had to be a way you could learn to control your powers.

You spent all day in the gym. You pushed yourself running, but that didn’t help. You tried meditating, but that didn’t either. Same with yoga, kickboxing, anything you could think of. Your favorite ABBA album began to play through the speakers you had playing loudly, and you started dancing and singing along. Before you knew it, you began to feel the feelings you were holding onto being released. The anger, the disappointment, the pain, the sadness. All of it was released from your body as you danced around the gym. You found yourself belting the first words of the song, Mamma Mia, when he came in.

“I was cheated by you! I think you know when!”

“I know when too,” his voice carried over the music, straight to your ears. You turned to face him, asking FRIDAY to turn off the music, silence suddenly filling the now empty air. “I was being honest when I said I was being an idiot last night, um, the yelling before that, that was bullshit.”

You crossed your arms, “You really hurt me, James.”

“Yeah, I did that, and I feel completely awful about it. As soon as the words were coming out of my mouth I regretted it. Then you called me Bucky and I just… I don’t know, I don’t want to give you excuses as to why I acted the way I did, I just hope you understand how disappointed in myself and sorry I am.” He took a step towards you, and when you didn’t move, he took another.

“It seemed like you and Loki were really hitting it off, and rather than just asking you about it, I assumed you didn’t care for me the way I was hoping you did. And then I saw you touch him and I couldn’t take it.” He took another few steps until you were only a foot or so apart. “Can you forgive me?”

Your face broke down, “Yes, of course, I can. Will you forgive me for reacting the way I did? I knew it was mean, and that it would alter my powers, but I let my hurt get the best of me.”

James broke out in a smile, “Please, any sane person would have reacted similarly, but yes, I do forgive you.”

“Good,” you said as you took a small step closer to him. You were about to lean in and close the gap between you two when Steve burst through the doors.

“MIA DON’T TOUCH HIM!” He called out, “WAIT!”

You both turned to him, confused, but obliging by stepping apart and showing him your hands. You were both rushed back up to the lab where you had left Tony not even two hours ago.

“Oh good,” Tony said, letting out a breath he seemed to be holding. He sat you down on the table as he began looking you over. “Loki came by again a few minutes ago. When you had touched him, he had gotten a sense of your powers, and then again as it shifted after your fight with Bucky. He said you may be feeling lighter, maybe that you were able to let go of some of your anger, but it was just the darkness ebbing to come back harder and take over. If that happens, we are doomed.”

“Shit. I knew this felt too good to be true,” you rubbed your hands over your face as you absorbed the new information. Then, you took off your gloves, much to everyone’s disapproval, to see your veins turning black. You pulled up your sleeve to see it going up your arms, an without thinking threw off your shirt to see it beginning to reach your heart.

“It’s almost too late,” Tony said before running around, sending demands to Steve and Bucky who did as he said.

“Mia, my darling Mia, you are going to have to go to sleep now. If we don’t slow your heart, you may be taken over completely.” You nodded your head and laid down. He attached an IV to a vein that hadn’t been taken over yet, which was, unfortunately in your neck. “Do you trust me?” he asked quickly.

“Yes. Do it. Bring me back to J-” the cool liquid spread through your veins, taking you over quickly.

You woke up to blackness, at least you thought you were awake. You began walking around, the wet ground sloshed as your bare feet moved forward.

“Hello?” you called, only hearing your echo answer you. “Hello?”, you stopped mid-step when you felt rumbling beneath you. You took a few steps back only to be met by something solid and slick.

“Hello,” it said. You turned around only to be met with yourself, except your eyes were void of all color and what seemed to look like black tattoos covered your hands and circled up your arms.

“Who are you?” you asked.

“You know who I am,” it replied.

You shook your head, a sick feeling taking over.

“SAY IT!” it demanded.

“You are what lives inside me,” you responded.

You were met by a sickening laugh, “You think I am simply what lives inside you? HA! Wrong. I am you. You are a shell of me. We bring destruction in our wake. The worlds bow to us, pleading to be speared. We are Death. We are Decay. We are infecting everyone around us, no matter how immune you may feel they are. Look at your friends now, dying from your touch.”

Suddenly you could see Bucky and Loki, Wanda and Nat, Tony, Steve, everyone gasping for air as the infection spread throughout their bodies.

“No.” you stated. “I don’t believe you. Why should I?” You demanded.

“Getting fire-y on us now, I see? It isn’t going to help. Because soon everyone you thought you loved will be dead and we will reign supreme, together, whether you choose to or not. But trust me when I say, in the end, you will choose to.”

The blackness began to crawl up your legs, around your torso, your arms, only leaving your head and neck free from its grasp. Raising you up from the ground, you began to see the things you never allowed yourself to see.

Children crying out in pain as death and decay overcame them. Leaders bowing at your feet, worshiping you. Decay spreading, taking over every living thing that came into its reach. And then you saw yourself, beautiful and powerful.

“NO!” You screamed, “STOP!”

Bucky was given the task of observing you for any changes in breathing, heart rate, temperature, and pulse. Nothing had changed, until now, 12 hours since you were put to sleep. Your temperature was dropping quickly and you began seizing.

“TONY!” he yelled, “GET OVER HERE!”

Right before they were about to cover your already restrained body in warm blankets, Wanda stopped you.

“No.” she demanded, eyes blank, focused only on you. “She is fighting. No matter what happens, do not alter her state.” Wanda took the seat Bucky had been seated in and began to explain what was happening within you. “It calls itself Death and Decay,” she began, eyes in a trance, unmoving from your frame. “Death and Decay has declared that it is Mia and that Mia is a shell of Death and Decay. It offers her power and control. She is convincing Mia that all of us are gone because of her. That her wrath of our death would be better used to its advantage. It is very close to winning.” Wanda stopped, eyes coming back to her surroundings, gasping for air.

“Wanda! Are you okay?” Steve asked, rushing to her side.

“It… it wanted me to tell you that,” she said, rubbing her temples, “But it lied. The cold is feeding it.”

They covered you in thick, warm blankets, and screams erupted from your body as it thrashed about. Steve had to hold Bucky back as your eyes shot open, blackness replacing your blue, almost lavender irises he loved so much.

Your body continued to thrash about until you had broken the restraints holding you down as Death began speaking. “You will never have her back!” she roared, “She belongs to me now. BOW BEFORE DEATH AND DECAY!”

When no one moved to obey your command, you looked at them, one by one. “Tony Stark. You have avoided me for far too long, it’s about time you are rolling in your grave.” It turned to Steve next, “Steven Rogers, ah, America’s Hero. You were born a sickly child and was meant to die a sickly child, how about I bring you back so you can fully feel the power I inflict? And James Barnes,” you said, twisting your lips into a menacing grin, “The one who was silly enough to love her. I might spare you. You are the asset of hydra. You helped bring death to many. That will be rewarded if you bow to me.”

A chill fell over the room. As it did, everyone toppled to the ground crying out in anguish.

“YES!” You called, “Feed me with your screams!”

“Stop.” Your voice rang out over Death and Decay. “You are not welcome here.” Death turned to face you, anger and confusion fell over its face. “How dare you defy me! You will pay for this!”

“No, I won’t,” you stated, “You will.”

You then plunged a knife you had found through its body, where its heart should be. Its cries echoed loudly, reverberating through your own body as it seemed to disappear.

Then, you woke up.

Your eyes slowly blinked open, the sunlight practically blinding you.

“Well, good morning Amelia, how are you feeling?” A man asked.

“Uh, confused. What is going on?” You looked around you to see a lab that looked incredibly familiar. The man did as well, but you couldn’t place how you knew him.

“That makes sense, you have been in cryostasis for the last few years. Your memories will begin to return to you slowly, so be sure to be patient with yourself. My name is Tony Stark, you came to me five years ago after you had been captured and experimented on by some radical group. This is Shuri, sh-”

“She can speak for herself,” a young woman with a thick African accent approached you. “I am the reason you are still alive, no thanks to the colonizer.” She said rolling her eyes. “Before Tony can interrupt me, let me begin to explain what has been going on for the last five years, both with my discoveries, and what you have missed.”

Shuri suggested you slowly reorient yourself to pop culture and take it easy with making friends. “You’ve been alone with your mind for a long while, don’t need to scare yourself,” she had said chuckling.

You spent a few weeks with Shuri, Tony, Dr. Banner, and a young man named Peter Parker. Peter and Shuri seemed to have some secret language because no one knew what they were talking about.

You were taught different techniques to control your powers. Shuri had been able to tap into your brain and literally rewire it, giving you the upper hand on your abilities. “One of the few reasons you came to me-”

“You mean one of the reasons she came to me,” Tony corrected.

“No, you do not get that credit. You made more problems for me to fix.” She then turned back to you, “one of the reasons was because you had no control over both your powers and your mind. Memories and the ways the group had used to brainwash you would overpower everything, causing you to act erratically. We have successfully erased the coding they used to control you. Now, the real work begins as you learn to stop giving your memories the power to control you.”

You took in a deep breath, “This is going to be painful, isn’t it?”

Shuri only smiled at you.

Your lessons were going well, and you were beginning to stop getting in your own way and you began to see the vast abilities you held within you. Not only could you destroy with just a touch, but you could bring to life something from nothing. You spent most of your days practicing meditation to stay disciplined or tending to a garden on the roof. 

You were wearing a tank top and high waisted cotton pants, your favorite outfit that allowed you to feel the breeze, despite how thick and humid it was. The sun beating down on you as you hummed, clearing out the weeds in the bed of strawberry plants when you heard the door open behind you.

You took off your gardening gloves, and stood up, wiping any dirt from your pants. “Hello,” you said cheerfully.

“Hi, Amelia, right?” the man asked as he approached and you nodded. “I’m Bucky. Shuri has asked that I help you settle in. I have gone through readjusting after cryostasis.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bucky. Glad someone understands,” you said, chuckling softly.

Bucky extended his hand to you, and as you took it, your eyes shot up to his. 

“You sure we haven’t met before?” You asked carefully.

Except, Bucky wasn’t looking at you, he was looking curiously at the little dark blue flower in the middle of the bed of strawberries.

“N-no, I don’t believe we have.”

[rox-the-proxy]

No Words Needed

There isnt much of an excuse for this other then im multishipper trash and i actually had time to type this out today (Considering ive been sick and so busy lately.) so uh.....i hope you enjoy!

"Trust me, your going to look great! There isn't anyone better then old Iggy here when it comes to adjusting stuff like this!"

"Hardly. I only know a few things. Hardly anything worth making such a fanfare about."

Riku couldn't help but chuckle softly as he stood a few steps away, arms crossed over his chest as Vanitas stood awkwardly, nervously while a man with dirty blonde hair and glasses worked on sewing and adjusting the skirt around Vanitas' waist. The skirt was simple, it was one those ones with a solid black layer of smooth cloth under it with a semi-see through layer over it. It was short on the front it ended just above his kneecaps, while the back part of it was long and ended just above his ankles. He had brought Vanitas here to Traverse Town to mainly show him around, a sort of reward for doing as well as he had been during his recovery period. That and he wanted the boy to see the worlds in a different way then how he saw them so long ago.

And it was working! Vanitas was in awe at just how big this world actually was. Especially when they traveled to the more festive parts of the town. It was there did Riku allow himself to be pulled and dragged wherever it was Vanitas' wanted to go and look at. Which is how they ended up in this little thrift shop, Vanitas was going to run past it but came to a dead stop before pressing his face against the glass and stared at something. At first Riku was a little concerned, the raven didn't even flinch when he called his name, but when he reached out to put his hand on his shoulder, he found himself being dragged into store and right over to where the skirt was. He believed that Vanitas was going to ask him what it was but he was shocked when Vanitas pointed at it and looked up at him.

"I want this."

Riku was taken aback by the confident statement, his head was spinning. Typically...boys didn't wear skirts, or at least the annoying kind of boys who believed that boys shouldn't wear skirts thought that. He looked at the raven who seemed to be waiting for some kind of answer. At least Vanitas was a patient person, he could wait for hours for a response if not days. Riku sighed, rubbing the back of his head before smiling at him. "Let's try it on first, see if it fits." Riku swore he was blinded by just how brightly Vanitas had smiled the second he said for him to try it on. Which is how they found themselves in the current situation, the skirt was big on his slim frame and had spent a while looking for another one that might fit. Though Vanitas did an amazing job at not showing it; Riku knew he was a bit sad that it didn't fit him.

That's when a blonde haired employee of the shop had walked over, asking of they needed anything. And suddenly, Vanitas was a mute. He wasn't quite used to talking to other people, not like Riku spoke a whole bunch either but he did now that Vanitas was around and needed time to get used to this new life style. Riku had smiled at Vanitas' sudden shyness and had explained about the skirt, and sadly they didn't have any other ones, however the blonde haired male who went by Prompto said there was a easy fix to the problem. That's when they met Iggy, or ignis as that was his actual name. The man had easily accepted to helping them mend the skirt to the appropriate size. Which is how Vanitas found himself standing so awkwardly and nervously as Ignis worked on fixing the skirt.

"So, yeah that's what happened to our home world. We woke up here and decided to set up a shop. No sense in crying about it, you know?"

Riku nodded at Prompto's words. Yes he could definitely agree with that. After hearing about their home world and what they had gone through Riku admired their ability to keep pushing forward and staying as close as they were despite everything. He looked at Vanitas who seemed to be fixated on whatever Ignis was doing, he was a curious boy by nature, much like Sora. And he soaked up information like a sponge, Vanitas was a fast learner.

"So, what's his story?" The blonde asked, which got Riku to tense up instantly.

It's not that he didn't trust the other male, it's just that... Vanitas' story was complicated and it wasn't Riku's place to tell it either. Considering the other boy was so private about certain aspects and parts of past and himself in general. The silver haired male sighed heavily as he rubbed the back of his neck. "He's just....he's been through a lot. Didn't have any good things in his life. So I brought him to...to relax and enjoy the night. So when he said he wanted that...how could I say no?"

"Especially to him?"

"Especially to him." Riku said without missing a beat, which one eye noticed a crimson blush dusted his cheeks and that got a laugh from the taller male next to him. "I-i just- he deserves a good life now after what he's been though...a normal life."

Prompto nodded at his words as he watched Ignis stand up and walk around the raven, inspecting his work. "Yeah, I get ya. Ignis had one hell of a ride back on our home world. See those scars on his face? Those were from a powerful magic and half of the price he paid to use it to keep Noct safe."

"What was the other half of it?" Riku asked nervously, those burn scars on Ignis' face looked wicked, it had to be painful he was absolutely sure of it. When he looked at the blonde he was met with a bittersweet expression.

"His sight. He was blind before our world was swallowed up by the darkness. It was here that he somehow got it back."

At that Riku was shocked as he turned to look back at him and Vanitas. They seemed just about done and the golden eyed male looked absolutely thrilled, giddy even. When those honey gold eyes locked gazes with him, Riku couldn't fight back the fond smile he sent him, which got him a blush and a shy smile back. Vanitas was going to be the death of him, and Riku oddly enough didn't seem to mind that at all. He only laughed as he walked over with Prompto.

"Looks great! Told ya Iggy was good at this kind of thing."

"Again, hardly worth the fanfare." He responded with as he helped the raven step down from the small circle stage like platform he was on. "Does it feel alright? Not to tight I hope?"

"Nope, it's perfect, thank you."

Riku was shocked by how quickly, confidently and easily Vanitas had responded to the question. The other two seemed completely unfazed by this and only smiled at his words and nodded. It seemed they to had experience in dealing with someone who was a bit shy when it came to social interactions. Riku smiled as he tilted his head with the skirt, Vanitas wore a tight, sleeveless black shirt and he had on a purple and black plaided dress shirt over it. Though while ignis was doing the adjustments Riku was now holding onto the said dress shirt. Though, Riku was sure he didn't need it, the outfit looked really good without it. "It looks good on you, Van," he said, turning to face Prompto and Ignis now. "How much do i-"

"It's on the house, call it a gift for new friends." A new voice interrupted. Riku would never openly admit that he was startled, Prompto and Ignis moved aside so a black haired and blue eyed male could stand between them now. He looked completely relaxed, maybe a little to relaxed. But he pushed that thought for the moment to the back of his mind when a much bigger man walked in and stood behind the three. He felt himself tense up at the sight of him and okay he felt a bit bad for reaching behind him to grab Vanitas' wrist and tug him a bit closer. Though the blue eyed male laughed at this. "Don't worry about Gladio here, he looks big and scary but he's just fat-"

"Aye! Watch it you little-"

"Boys, no rough housing in the shop." Ignis scolded instantly. This got Prompto to laugh, and that's when it clicked to Riku so those were his friends, he and told him about them while they chatted away as Ignis got the skirt squared away. He relaxed, sliding his hand into Vanitas' for a moment, he squeezed his hands as if to make sure that the raven was indeed still there.

"Right, sorry. Natural reaction. I'm Riku, and this is Vanitas. Are you sure? I mean i can easily pay for it." The silver haired male explained, looking a bit worried about getting that skirt free of charge. He watched as Noctis chuckled and gave him a shrug, true to Prompto's word he was young maybe no older then twenty and a bit lazy.

"I'm sure you can, but I want you to take it. My shop after all. Not like giving away one thing is going to shut our business down," he said with a hand on his hip.

"No, but your lazy ass might," Gladio added in, which got him a shove from the prince.

Riku watched the interactions between the four, he couldn't help but think that maybe if he and Sora had never gotten the Keyblades would he, Kairi and Sora be like that? Spending each day together without some kind of worry they would be ripped apart from each other? It was a nice thought, but another part of him wouldn't trade away his past either. It was his actions that had allowed them to travel to other worlds, meet new friends and make bonds with people he never would have been able to make a bond with. He took that moment to look at Vanitas who was also watching the other four individuals info of them. Had things not happened the way they did, he wouldn't have ever met Vanitas. He smiled as he reached over, wrapping his arms around around the raven haired boy's shoulder and pulling him flush against his side.

He couldn't stop himself from pressing his face against the dark colored locks of hair and simply holding him for a moment. No, if anyone asked Riku if he would want to change anything he wouldn't. He was happy with what he had in his life now, yes he missed Sora greatly and wouldn't stop searching for him until he found him. But he was happy, he was a Keyblade Master, one who could harness the light and dark, he had Vanitas at his side and he couldn't be happier. He could feel the confusion radiating off of the smaller male he was holding and the stares from the other four. He felt more then saw Vanitas give a shrug as if he was answering a question. After a few long moments Riku finally pulled away and looked to the four.

"Thank you, for this i mean."

Noctis smiled nodding. "It's what friends do. You guys are welcomed to come back here anytime you like."

Riku smiled, nodding as he moved to walk out of the shop, but stopped when Vanitas pulled his hand away. He turned around and watched as the raven turned to face the group. He seemed nervous, as if he was having a hard time coming up with something to say to them. Riku couldn't help but smile as Vanitas fiddled with the hem of the skirt.

"I uh...I just wanted to say thank you." Vanitas said almost awkwardly, he sighed and looked up at the four. "Thank you for this, I...didn't really have anything of my own before coming here and I guess this is the first thing that I've picked out for myself that's well, for me. So thank you." Riku almost panicked when he saw Noctis lift his hand. But was surprised when all he did was ruffle Vanitas' dark colored locks gently.

The look he was giving the boy was one full of warmth, understanding and sympathy. It's like he knew what it was like having had everything I his life picked for him, which he guessed he did. After all he was a Prince, the King of Kings. Though he didn't have a horrible life like Vanitas did at the hands of Xehanort, but he knew what it was like to have things picked for him without so much as his own input. Riku sighed in relief at how calm Vanitas looked, even if it held undertone confusion at the sign of affection.

"Your welcome, Vanitas. Be safe, go enjoy the town." He said.

And with that, Vanitas smiled brightly, nodding before slipping his hand into Riku's and dragging him away from the store and down the street. They we're a good few blocks away before Vanitas came to a sudden halt. The skirt swaying gracefully with his movements as he turned to face Riku. He paused, before he stepped up to him, sliding his arms under Riku's and hugging him tightly. It wasn't often that Vanitas showed affection so easily, he liked to keep this kind of thing private and only around those they spent most of their time with. So Riku was taken aback by this hug but he easily wrapped his arms around the smaller male, squeezing him tightly.

"Do what do I owe this?" He asked, at first Vanitas didn't answer. He figured that the raven wasn't going to. He didn't need Vanitas to answer to know why he was hugging him, so the blue eyed male only laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "There's nothing to thank me for you know,"

"Bull and you know it." At that Riku laughed loudly, picking the other boy up and spinning them, which got a yelp from the other. "Okay, okay I get it! Put me down!" When his feet touched the ground, Vanitas pulled away, holding his hand out to Riku who this time slipped his hand into his easily. "Hey...do you think that maybe we can-, well more if it's okay if I can-"

He was stopped when Riku placed his hand over his mouth. His eyes narrowed into a glare but when he spotted the fond look on Riku's face he couldn't help but let the glare fade. Slowly Riku removed his hand from over Vanitas' mouth and moved it so it rested on his cheek. A soft purr started coming from the golden eyed boy as he leaned into the touch when Riku started to stroke his thumb just under his eye.

"You can wear whatever you want, and buy whatever you want." He responded with, leaning down and kissing his forehead. "Come on, let's go see what other stuff we can find." He said, lacing their fingers together as they continued to walk down the streets.

By the end of the trip, Riku happily found Vanitas finally being able to bond and interact at least with Naminé as she helped him adjust any skirts he had gotten so they fit. And he didn't need words to know what Vanitas meant when he walked up to him, wearing another skirt and just barely brushing his fingers over his heart.

"I love you."

[antoncutedobin]

a little mistake. part 4!

part 1. part 2. part 3. masterlist. 

requested? kinda????

summary! friends with benefits just got a whole lot more complicated from the result of a pregnancy test.  

warnings! none really i don’t think. 

word count! 1143.

authors note! hi! this part is pretty short, i’m sorry. :( i wanted to get something out but i’m sO TIRED. work is killing me. the next chapter will probably have a time jump!! let me know what u want to see in terms of the pregnancy. :) i don’t wanna skip over something you guys wanna see. so pls leave an ask / message / comment, it would be muCH APPRECIATED!! anyways, pls enjoy!! i’ll try to get another chapter out soon!! i might be off wednesday so hopefully tomorrow night / wednesday i can write :) 

 You woke up, blinking rapidly before immediately shutting your eyes against the harsh light. You could hear a steady beep and you could smell the cleaner in the room. All of the sensations were piling up on you and giving you the world’s biggest headache. 

 You began to feel other things, like the cloth blanket on you and the scratchy fabric of your gown. You flexed your toes and fingers, body jolting suddenly when a hand grabbed yours. 

 “Baby…” The relieved voice broke the silence, your hand being lifted and a scruffy face rubbing against it. You felt the soft kiss against your skin and though it pained you, you tried once more to open your eyes. 

 As soon as you did, the brightness scorched through you and you lifted your free hand to cover your eyes. You felt a tug on that arm and looked down, startled to see an IV. 

 Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned your head to look at Tyler. He was nuzzling your hand in his and you felt drops of wetness stain your skin. You turned your hand to cup his cheek, wiping at his tears. 

 “W-what happened?” Your voice was gruff and you desperately needed a drink of water. 

 Tyler sensed this and reached beside you, picking up the jug of water and pouring some in a glass. He put a bendy straw in it and tilted it to your mouth. “Just sip it, sweetheart…” 

 As soon as you tasted the water, the fuzziness in your head began to clear. You drank a small amount before pulling away, clearing your throat. “Is… Is the baby okay?” You asked, lip wobbling as you studied Tyler’s face. 

 “Yeah, the baby’s fine, beautiful…” he trailed off, a soft smile on his lips, “the baby’s perfect. Completely healthy… It’s you we have to worry about.” He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Do you remember anything?” 

 You bit your lip as you tried to gather the last thing you remembered. “I called you… My head hurt so badly… I felt so dizzy. And I was so confused, Ty…” 

 He sighed softly, his hand falling to caress your cheek. “When I found you, you had fainted. Your skin was so pale and cold… I called an ambulance and when they arrived they said your blood pressure was low… I was so scared. They immediately swarmed you and suddenly we were on our way to the hospital.” He paused to lick his lips, clearly distressed at the memory. “They didn’t let me see you for a long time… God… I was terrified, baby.” 

 You frowned, “it’s okay, babe, I’m here…” 

 He nodded slowly, “they told me you were severely dehydrated… I didn’t realize because you’d been sick so often that you might become dehydrated. I’m an athlete for God’s sakes, I should have realized it… I’m so sorry, baby.” 

 You shook your head, “it’s not your fault, Tyler… I should have been more careful. I just thought it was normal, you know? Everyone talks about how bad morning sickness is… I didn’t realize it was worse than normal.” 

 He shushed you gently, reaching over to kiss you softly. “It’s okay. You and the baby are okay. They replenished your fluids and they’re giving you some anti nausea medicine and some supplements that you can take. We just need to make sure you’re drinking enough water…” He shakes his head. “I should have been with you this whole time, baby girl. I’m so sorry I wasn’t…” 

 You pressed a hand over his mouth to silence him. “Tyler Paul Seguin. It’s not your fault… Please stop blaming yourself, okay? From now on, we’re in this together, right?” You scratched along his jaw with your fingernails.

 “I’m not leaving you, not for anything…” He paused, grabbing your hand and squeezing it tight. “Also… speaking of that, I wanted to talk to you about something.” 

 You tilted your head, “what is it?” 

 “I want you to move in with me… Or at least stay with me for a while. Please…” He looked into your eyes, “I need to know you’re safe all the time.” 

 You bit your lip as you considered it. “I’ll stay with you… For now.” You had to admit, it would be nice being with him all the time. You obviously needed someone to help you with this whole pregnancy ordeal. 

 He smiled, the first big one you’d seen since you woke up. Just then, a nurse came in and gave you instructions and a prescription. 

 Tyler listened to her every word, even stopping her so he could pull out his phone and make notes. You just shook your head, smiling at him. Your hands cradled your stomach, caressing it softly. 

 The nurse came in with your discharge papers and soon enough Tyler was wheeling you out of the hospital. The nurse tried to take over the wheelchair but Tyler refused, pushing you extremely slowly. 

 He picked you up out of the chair and placed you in the car, securing the belt around you. You rolled your eyes, but were secretly happy for his attention. 

 You had your hand on his thigh the whole time he was driving, his hand clutching yours when he didn’t need to use it. He absentmindedly brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. 

 Soon enough you were pulling in the driveway and he was at your door, opening it. You stepped out, stretching slightly. 

 Walking in the door, the dogs tried to bolt at you but Tyler stopped them, not wanting them to overwhelm you. Once you were settled, he let the dogs go and luckily they seemed to understand you weren’t feeling great because they stopped at the edge of the couch, sniffing your legs. You reached down and pet them all, saying hello to each one. 

 “Babe, I’m gonna go fill this prescription and grab a few things. Do you need anything?” He poked his head into the living room and you shook your head. You reached for the remote and the blanket that was folded on the corner of the couch. 

 Tyler smiled approvingly as you cuddled yourself with the blanket and the dogs. 

--

 You had drifted off to sleep when you woke to a warm hand on your forehead. Tyler was standing over you with medicine in his hands and a bottle of water. When you looked closer, you realized the bottle was marked with increments of water. Each line told you how much you had to drink per 30 minutes. You smiled at his thoughtfulness and realized Tyler was going to be very diligent in watching over you. 

  You were happy as he lifted the blanket, settling in beside you and pulling you into his arms. 

 It seems that this storm has passed; you just didn’t hope more were on their way.